#like friendly reminder he's the love of my life!!

[bumlets-appreciation-blog]

Newsie Names (As Determined By Me)

Jack "Cowboy" Kelly: Francis Malcolm Sullivan (canon)

Racetrack: Ed Higgins (historically accurate, I put him as having an Italian mother and Irish father, both Catholic because Race crosses himself during the nun scene)

Crutchy: Elijah Morris (surname is historically accurate, friendly reminder that Crutch Morris was Jewish and so is Crutchy)

Boots: Benjamin Arbus (surname looks like it's widely accepted fanon, not sure about the first name)

Kid Blink: Louis Baletti (historically accurate, definitely has an Italian father at the least)

Mush: Nicholas Meyers (surname is historically accurate and I'm pretty sure the real Mush was named Nick)

Bumlets: Damian Vasquez/Damián Vásquez (Puerto Rican name, name anglicized after immigration)

Skittery: Roman Kučera (Czech name, @jackcowboyhero came up with this and I just love it so much)

Snoddy: Calvin Angier (also from @jackcowboyhero)

Specs: Leopold Bauer (German name)

Dutchy: Cas Hendriksen (Dutch name, Dutchy was commonly used for Dutch and German immigrants)

Snitch: John Whitfield

Itey: Elio Olivieri (Italian name, Itey was commonly used for Italian immigrants)

Swifty the Rake: Wesley Liu (half white and half Chinese like his actor Kevin Stea)

Pie-Eater: Michael Reeves

Jake the Oyster: Jacob Heaton

Snipeshooter: Gabriel Evans

Flipper: Charles "Charlie" Daley (I've officially chosen Flipper as his newsie nickname because it's more popular and less ridiculous than Crazy Legs, Bumlets still calls him Charlie though)

Tumbler: Andy (another @jackcowboyhero name that I've adopted, he uses Kučera when necessary but doesn't remember his actual last name)

Ten-Pin: Simon Butler

I prefer to be as historically accurate as possible and since most newsies in real life were immigrants or the children of immigrants, I took that into account when naming a lot of the boys. Anglicizing names was common practice for immigrants to better assimilate and since Bumlets's family had to deal with racism on top of regular immigrant prejudice, his father dropped the accents to make things easier for them. Bumlets will probably add them back when he starts working as something other than a newsie (assistant superintendent at Duane Street is my headcanon). I sort of imprinted on @jackcowboyhero when I first joined the fandom so the names they picked for some of the boys (Skittery, Snoddy, and Tumbler) are very near and dear to my heart. I also tried to take into account the actor's race/ethnicity as best as I could (Dominic Lucero was Latino, Kevin Stea is biracial, and I think Marty Belafsky is Jewish but the real-life Crutch Morris definitely was) and used information about real-life newsie nicknames to name others like Dutchy and Itey. If anyone has their own headcanons, I'd love to hear them!

[glorifiedstreetmagician]

To My Dearest

Three letters from Haku Kusanagi to Zenji Kotodama that he did not send and one that he did. Thank you @danieyells for the inspiration. This is dedicated to @zenji-kotodama-official, for hopefully obvious reasons.

[unsent]

Zenji,

This is the sort of thing you would do. But now I find myself sitting at my desk, the weight of the time spent apart hanging over me like an axe about to drop, and I'm writing a letter you'll probably never see. I'm pretending to write to you anyway. Rui said it might help me figure my feelings out if I wrote them down like this, but after ten of these already I'm starting to think I'm doing this just because it feels like the only way I can speak my mind to you while you're not here.

It reminds me of the time I found a poem left on your desk when you weren't there. You wrote of a ghost of a poet and an heir to a shrine. I didn't read it all—I won't pretend to have had the patience or the nerve to try at the time—but I still think about it. You were trying to tell me something and I wish I knew what.

I shouldn't have told you what I did, that I wished I had kissed you when I had the chance. I should have said that I'd still try. You still reach for the people around you with such reckless love, like that time you moved for my hand and fell through your own bed. Your embarrassment was priceless. Oddly beautiful, too. And if you'd let me try to embarrass myself, just once, I'd try to kiss you, ghostly air and all.

It's shameful. Sometimes I lay awake at night, curled up on my side and staring at my door, asking myself what I did wrong. But I know I've done plenty wrong. Even so, I wish you'd just talk to me. I miss you. I hate that I miss you.

You're so annoying, but why did I have to get used to your annoyingness? Why do I miss it? Why do I yearn for just one more obnoxiously loud song, one more melancholic poem, one more masterpiece played on your biwa with your imperious voice demanding I record?

I hate you. I hate you for making me cry. I hate you for being gone. I hate you for not talking to me. I hate you for your silence more than your noise ever annoyed me. Please come back. Please be silent somewhere I can see you again. Just please come back. Come back and be your annoying self and I won't complain again. I won't roll my eyes. I won't tease. Just come back to me, Zenji.

Why do you avoid me? Is it so terrible if I want you, alive or dead? Is there really no other way for us to have our happily ever after? Is there a reason you won't try with me?

Haku

[unsent]

Dear Taro,

Do you remember the day we first met? It was the start of second year for us both, though I didn't really know you until I first stepped foot into Hotarubi, my new dorm at the time. To be honest, I don't really know why I chose it when I'd hardly spent any time there before I left Frostheim. I guess it just reminded me of home.

That first day though, it didn't feel exactly like home. It felt a bit like betrayal when I walked in, knowing who I'd left behind. I was quiet, and then there you were. An explosion of colour and fabric, pale skin glowing even in the dim mists of Hotarubi, and I could swear your eyes sparkled. You were all smiles and friendly chatter, welcoming me like I was just some childhood buddy you hadn't seen for a long time. You didn't even know me.

And you wouldn't leave my side. You said "hi" to at least a dozen people on the way to showing me my room, but stuck by me. At mealtimes, you were there. In the evening, you walked me back to my room even when I said I remembered the way. You did the same the day after that and the day after that and, seemingly, almost every single day forward. I'm not sure you knew it, but you made those first months bearable for me. I'm not sure I ever thanked you for that.

I've always been ungrateful when it comes to you. For your life, your company, and your smile.

What I'd give to see your smile again.

Sorrowfully, Haku

[unsent]

Dearest Taro,

I see the way she looks at you. I see the way you look at her. I've never been a jealous man. At least, not until now. She brings so much more life to you, and for someone always on my case for flirting, you certainly charm the hell out of her.

We talk now, but it doesn't feel the same as before the ball. I wish we'd never gone. I wish I hadn't asked you to dance. I'd undo it all if it meant you wouldn't keep averting your gaze from me when I'm in the room.

What does an honor student have that I don't? Why will you entertain her and not me?

How much longer will this go on?

Yours, Haku

[the downturned card]

Haku didn't show up to the wedding. How could he go on pretending to be perfectly serene and happy, seeing two of his friends get what they always deserved and he selfishly wished against?

The closest he made it was a short distance from the reception, under the shade of a tree grown into the form of a bench. It was wrapped in white and soft indigo ribbons, purple roses tucked among them. That was where he left his folded-up letter.

He glimpses Zenji in the distance, dressed down for this part after the ceremony, considering it was only for close friends. Who would have thought that all the ghouls would not only help lift not just a curse, but a spirit from the dead to allow this newlywed couple to stand here today? Zenji moved and interacted with the world with so much grace and enthusiasm. Every step, every wave of his hand, every turn of his head filled Haku with a love so deep and aching that it hurt.

Love. He had fallen in love with his old friend. It was a terrifying, tragic feeling.

If not for the pain, Haku wouldn't have had the means to walk away, leaving the letter in the tree for Zenji to find if he went looking.

To My Dearest,

There's a poem I've been thinking about. A few lines specifically:

Trees outside the window and a big band sound that makes you feel like / everything's okay, / a feeling that lasts for one song maybe, / the parentheses all clicking shut behind you... I sleep. I dream. I make up things / that I would never say. I say them very quietly.

Sometimes it's easier to use a poet's words when I'm lost for ways to articulate just how I'm feeling. The full poem is more hopeful, but I keep coming back to these lines. It's like he knew, somehow. Precisely how to describe the way grief feels, where you stand in one place but time moves on anyway. Contentment is fleeting, the situation is final, and I betray my own healing by whispering all the words I wish I had said long ago and clinging to them like they might impossibly change the present.

I fear I have become the ghost in bringing you back. I'm stuck somewhere between that night and all the nights after where something got lost in translation.

You deserve this happy life. I'm writing this letter to say goodbye. I have always been a selfish, selfish man. I can't watch you love someone else anymore and live the life with her that I wanted with you.

I'm sorry, Taro. I'm so sorry I never did anything right by you.

Yours, still, Haku

[the upright card]

Haku went through the motions of the day in a kind of stupor. A few years ago, if you told him that he was going to get married one day, he'd laugh self-deprecatingly and ask if you were planning to propose to say such a thing. If you told him he was going to marry Zenji Kotodama—to him, Taro Kirisaki—he would blankly demand what gave you that ridiculous idea, arms crossed and unimpressed.

Currently, his arms are draped over Zenji's shoulders as they slow dance in an empty garden party. All the guests had left. Soon, Haku was going to clean up before he and Zenji collected their bags to board the late train. But right now, he's content just dancing to a song Zenji hummed sweetly in the quiet.

The moment feels so surreal. Zenji's buzzing solidness after years of growing stronger, the rise and fall of his chest so close to true breathing, the fact that they could still hold each other even while one remained a ghost. But the sound of his voice remains the same as always.

"You seem lost in thought, my dear." Zenji's ruby eyes glitter with gentle affection as he observes Haku. "Will you tell me about it?"

"It's nothing," Haku says, only for the rest of his excuses to melt away at a kiss to his forehead. It feels as real as anything.

"Tell me anyway," Zenji replies once he pulls away, smiling encouragingly.

Sighing, Haku glances off to the side at the curved tree. "It's... not something I can say aloud right now."

"But we are alone!" Zenji says, incredulous.

And Haku finds himself chuckling. "Yes. I know. But it's because it's for you that I'm struggling to say it." They stop dancing and, with a tremoring hand, Haku draws a folded piece of paper from a pocket in his coat. "Here. Read this, please. I should start cleaning, or we'll never make it to that train."

"But these are not your vows from earlier?"

"No," Haku says, wandering off to start collecting glasses to take inside. "Just read it and you'll see!" he calls back before leaving.

To My Dearest,

While I like poetry, I've never been all that good at it. I've written this letter probably a dozen times already, trying to quote every Romantic poet you could name. And many of them, I find, are so sad in their works. It just wouldn't do because I find myself so incredibly happy.

I'm writing this version the night before our wedding. You're asleep in the next room over (I know this because I can hear you snoring) and the moon is bright. I have the window open and the breeze is so nice, even if it's also messing with the paper right now.

You know by now that I'm stalling. You've always known me better than anyone else, particularly my own family. And while you've felt like family for a long time now, I can't believe I'm—and yet I look forward to—officially making you mine tomorrow.

You don't know it, but I've been writing letters to you for years. It started in our third year at Darkwick Academy, when I thought I had ruined our friendship for good. Ruined any kind of relationship we might have had. I wrote to you almost every day for a month, and then I continued to write after, but I never sent anything. You know me, after all. I couldn't be openly honest if my life depended on it.

Keats wrote once about the harmony in silence—or something close to that. After years of writing to you what I cannot say, I think I've finally reached that harmony. In my silent missives, I've found a new appreciation for your endless songs. I want you to sing until I go deaf. I want to love you until the end of my life, and then even after.

I used to scorn fairy tales. They weren't real. I had experienced the real world with all its unfit couples, doomed lovers, and sex addicts. I thought that was all there is. You may remember that there was a time I never thought I'd marry, simply because I didn't think a happy marriage was possible. But I want to make a promise to you, Taro. The vows I read out tomorrow are for everyone else. But this promise is for you only, in the beautiful simplicity of silence as you read.

While it is within my power, I am making this our happily ever after, my dearest. I owe it to the both of us to believe in fairy tales again. And I promise you that in this one, the moon and the fisherman can devote themselves to one another, the heir to the shrine can know of the ghost's love, and the beast can marry the princess.

We will have bad days. Someday I might find I grow tired of noise again. You might detest my criticisms. But I promise to never forget the love that's bound us through life and death. If you ever fear that I will, come to me with this letter and we will read it again together until we both remember our happily ever after.

I'm going to marry you tomorrow. You'll see.

With love, forever yours, Haku

[anachronistic-falsehood]

"richas and pac are dead" WRONG!!!!! richas hatched as he and pac e mike jumped off the christ redeemer and immediately spread his wings and caught his dads in his talons and set mike safely back on the ground and was going to set pac down too but pac asked to go with him and so pac gave mike one last hug and then he and richas took off into the sky <3 pactw told me this himself trust me guys

[falderaletcetera]

listen. I don't just love father brown because I first saw it while ill with the flu or because it's consistently kind to the outcast in a way that has reviewers calling it Too Woke, obviously a vote in its favour. or because the recurring thief character is very pretty to watch. though those are significant parts of it.

I love it because after eight seasons father brown sits down with the village drunk (a munitions expert in the war, has a soft spot for the parish secretary, name of harold or blind harry) to find out why he gave a murder suspect a false alibi and harry explains to him, calm as you like, that seeing the life leave someone's eyes changes a person, that it's what he reckons brought father brown to his faith, that it's what drove him to drink, and he didn't see that shadow in the guy the police are chasing this time. and father brown, rather than justifying or correcting or dodging or doubting him, says he knows how unjust the situation is. that he got something good out of the horrors of the war. that harry really didn't.

it is not a perfect show and yes I have problems with it but gosh, this is a character who's largely used for comedic beats, albeit kindly, and a scene like this isn't out of place at all but it still takes my breath away. we could've been left with this as subtext, y'know? I hadn't even put together that his alcoholism must have been trauma. but instead harry tells us this directly, tells us it's about guilt, that that's something he shares with father brown, who is competent and so often cheerful and I can't even imagine when he was younger, and it's a moment of such unexpected humanity and respect. and it's such a strange thing to see these characters side by side like that.

the scene ends with father brown calling harry a good man, and harry denying it ("they was only young lads" "so were we, harold. so were we.") and the two them sharing a drink as father brown gets a bit watery-eyed and I'm crying too over my nice cosy 'this is a concerning number of murders for a sleepy english village' show and just. hi. what. ow.

I also haven't recovered from the episode that turned into a heist halfway through but frankly I'm only mentioning that because I don't know how to wrap up a post like this. (it was good though. there were two separate honeypots, three if you count the impromptu replacement, one character terrible at grifting and one unexpectedly great at it, and, somehow, a con within a con. it was really very fun. get a show that can do both, I guess?)

[yueebby]

Dying thinking about gojo literally pinning and hardcore simping for reader, literally showering reader in praise, flattery and gifts because he no longer gives a damn about hiding his feelings, almost proposing to reader whenever he can and reader's just... completely clueless about it💀 and she thinks it's just gojo being friendly. Poor man would be absolutely devastated when he goes one day "[name] i'm in love with you" and she just goes "me too, i love all my friends!" 💀

she loves me, she loves me not! — gojo satoru x fem!reader

contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo (what’s new), highschool!gojo, he’s pathetic but in love your honor, oblivious!reader, ooc gojo i got carried away soz

notes. anon, when i first read your ask i literally started giggling and kicking my feet. that. is. so. gojo coded.

“please reject gojo and put him out of his misery,” utahime implored, taking hold of both of your hands. you think she’s asking, no, begging you to. beside her, shoko nods vigorously. 

“but why?” you furrow your eyebrows, perplexed by their sudden request. “i can’t reject someone who doesn’t like me.”

shoko giggles at your comment. her laughter only wanes when she notices the dead serious look on your face. “... you seriously have no idea what we’re talking about?”

“not really,” you shrug, criss-crossing your legs to find some comfort on the hard wooden floor in shoko’s small dorm. it was late, past midnight, and the three of you had a shared mission tomorrow, but for some reason your two friends managed to rope you into their drinking circle.

utahime and shoko exchanged a significant glance, their unspoken communication raising your curiosity. utahime takes a long sip of her beer. 

“hopeless. they’re both hopeless,” your short haired brunette friend lamented, pinching her nose bridge. it leaves a faint pink mark.

intrigued, you lean in closer towards the two, “care to elaborate?”

“you’ve never once questioned satoru’s borderline inappropriate behavior?” shoko asks you earnestly. you ponder for a moment, trying to recall any moments in the two years you’ve known the snow-haired boy.

“satoru is satoru…” you mumble, shaking your head in denial. 

utahime’s eyes bug comically. she slams her can of beer harshly on the ground. you wince at the loud noise of the metallic can hitting the floor.

“you’re kidding. even i can see through that jerk!” utahime’s black pigtails sway wildly. 

“[name], how about what happened in shinjuku last week on our day off?” shoko quietly reminds you of last weekend when the two of you along with satoru and suguru decided to empty your pockets in one of tokyo’s largest entertainment wards. 

utahime’s head whips back and forth from her best friend to you, “eh? what happened?!”

from behind the dressing room curtain, you voiced your concerns, “shoko, i don't think we can afford designer clothes on our student budget.” the cream-colored silk dress you wore clung to your body, its price tag undoubtedly surpassing a year's worth of your student earnings.

“don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” shoko’s voice carried a knowing smile. “just come out and show me the dress!” you think satoru’s carefree attitude is rubbing off on her.

with a nervous sigh, you emerged from the dressing room. the dress fit like a glove, accentuating your body in just the right places.

bright flashes from shoko's phone startled you, and she chuckled deviously while rapidly typing. she tossed her phone onto a luxurious cushion, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of exposure.

“you look so sexy. even better than the model.” she gives you two thumbs up, eyes roaming your figure. you feel flushed at her praise.

“as flattered as i am, there’s no way i can afford this,” you look down at the dress, lips downturned. “i’d be in debt for life.”

“no need to worry,” shoko winked, leaving you confused. given that her income was similar to yours, it didn't make sense for her to be able to even dream of shopping designer.

a soft thud interrupted your conversation. you turn around to see a blue lollipop rolling on the expensive carpeting of the store.

“suguru, are my eyes deceiving me or is that an angel?”  satoru's mouth is wide open as he shamelessly checks you out. he takes one of his hands and places it over his heart, gripping the fabric of his white shirt. the windbreaker he is wearing rustles at his dramatic movement.

“i think… i’m experiencing a heart attack! shoko help!” he kneels in the middle of the store dramatically. shoko shares an unamused look with suguru. the pair nod before simultaneously kicking satoru.

during all of the commotion, you stand awkwardly in the million yen dress. 

“satoru, are you okay?” you watch him take the two blows from your friends, concern evident in your voice. he grunts softly before gently taking ahold of your hand.

“no,” he croaks with a playful glint in his eye. “i’m wounded and there’s only one way to fix it.”

you look at him, your gaze heavy with concern.

“i’m afraid you’ll have to kiss me for the pain to go away.” he added, blinking at you expectantly with his blue eyes.

 you lightly shove him away from you. “you’re an idiot.” satoru laughs loudly.

“that’s what love does to a man.”

“yeah, yeah. i’m going to change out of this dress, don’t get into any more trouble while i’m gone.” 

 satoru’s grip on your hand strengthens, halting your actions.

“how much?”

“excuse me?”

“the dress. how much for it?” he stands up to his full height, reminding you of the obvious height difference between the two of you. 

you're at loss for words. gojo was crazy, but definitely not crazy enough to spend a million yen on a silly dress.

shoko happily chimes into the conversation. “one million yen. it’ll be two million yen with the rest of my purchases though!” 

suguru’s calm demeanor is replaced with shock. the black haired male’s jaw drops, “two million– satoru, you’re seriously not thinking about–”

“hah? who said i’m paying for your stuff?” gojo makes an ugly face at shoko.

she raises her hands innocently, “it’s not my fault the dresses come in a set. if you want to see your beloved [name] in that dress you’ll have to pay for mine as well.”

you watch shoko and satoru engage into a silent argument. the tension in the fitting room section is so thick, you think it’ll take a special grade weapon to slice through it.

trying to alleviate the mood you tell gojo, “satoru, you really don’t have to–”

“i’m buying you that dress.” 

“o-okay.” 

half an hour later, satoru happily strolls out of the store with an arm around your shoulder like he’d just won the lottery.

perhaps gojo is just naturally flirty, you had tried to reason to shoko and utahime.

it’s been a week since the eye-opening conversation with the two and you’ve found yourself on cleaning duty with said snow-haired boy. it was a miracle that satoru even showed up. he had a tendency to skip his turns, often resulting in a long lecture from yaga.

as the two of you worked silently in the empty classroom, you couldn't help but admire the setting sun. its golden rays painted the sky with hues of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over everything. unknowingly, while you gazed at the sky, gojo's gaze was firmly fixed on you.

breaking the silence, he asked, "have you ever thought about getting married?"

his question caught you off guard, causing you to momentarily pause from wiping the windows.

“not really,” you replied, biting your lip gently. “unless my family decides to arrange a marriage. you know how unforgiving the world of jujutsu sorcery is.”

gojo's grip on the broom tightened, his eyes locking onto yours with a newfound intensity.

"we should get married y'know," he blurted out.

the piece of cloth you were using slipped from your hand in shock. surely, he couldn't mean what he was saying. after all, the two of you were only second years.

“what?”

“i’m saying i think i’m in love with you.”

“oh.” 

silence engulfs the room once more before a soft giggle escapes your lips.

satoru can only watch, entranced.

“that’s good to hear! i love you too– and suguru and shoko! perhaps the four of us should all just get married.” you chuckle into your hand.

satoru can't help but stare at your hand in envy. perhaps if he were the palm of your hand, he’d be able to feel the touch of your lips.

but he couldn’t. he was cursed as a man with an overpowered innate technique, and despite it all he couldn’t even gain the one thing he desired. gojo satoru watched you, eyes filled with a mixture of longing and defeat.

his devastation does not go unnoticed by you.

you were under the impression that he was grumpy because yaga had forced him into cleaning with you.

"cheer up, satoru! if we finish early enough," you continue, your tone highspirited, "we can go to the new crepe shop that opened last week. my treat!" you winked, and that immediately caught his attention.

“like a date?” his eyes sparkled with hope.

you shrug, a smile on your face. “i suppose if you look at it from a certain perspective…”

“great, it’s a date!” 

good things come to those who wait, satoru thinks, humming happily as he starts to sweep the room at an inhumane pace.

maybe in ten years time the two of you will be happily married with eight kids, he smiles to himself.

[geneviveleocardius]

viktor, and his way of loving you

yes babys, arcane

viktor has a way with words, and his flirting style is sharp and witty. he’ll tease you with playful sarcasm, often catching you off guard. for example, if you ask him if he likes your outfit, he might quip, “well, it’s not terrible. you’ve exceeded my very low expectations.”

despite his often aloof demeanor, viktor absolutely melts when you lay on him. whether it’s resting your head on his chest or curling up next to him while he works, he’ll grumble about being “distracted,” but his hand will instinctively settle on your back or stroke your hair. je secretly craves the comfort and connection.

viktor loves to rile you up with gentle teasing. if you’re trying to impress him or show off, he’ll smirk and say something like, “adorable. is this your best attempt?” he doesn’t mean it harshly—it’s his way of engaging with you and keeping things lighthearted.

viktor isn’t shy about casual touches. he’ll rest a hand on your shoulder as he leans over to show you something, trace patterns on your palm while deep in thought, or brush your hair out of your face with a surprising tenderness.

viktor is reckless in his own way when it comes to showing love. if you mention wanting something or needing help, he’ll dive headfirst into solving the problem, often overextending himself. you’ll have to remind him to slow down and take care of himself, but he’ll just shrug and say, “i’ve survived worse.”

if you try to challenge him intellectually or make a point, he’ll raise an eyebrow and give a smug response like, “oh, is that what you think? fascinating. completely wrong, but fascinating.” he loves engaging with you in debates, even if it’s just to watch you get riled up.

viktor might tease and joke, but when you’re upset or vulnerable, his sarcastic edge softens. he’ll hold you close, quietly reassuring you with words like, “it’s okay. I’m here. Even when you’re being insufferable.” his way of comforting is uniquely viktor—pragmatic but undeniably warm.

viktor doesn’t get overtly jealous, but he’ll throw in pointed remarks if someone gets too friendly with you. “oh, how charming he is. do you need me to take notes, or are you already smitten?” it’s mostly to amuse himself, but there’s a spark of possessiveness behind it.

viktor’s love is as sharp and nuanced as his personality—equal parts teasing, intellectual connection, and quiet, tender affection.

viktor’s kisses aren’t rushed. he takes his time, savoring the moment like it’s the last one he’ll get for a while. a soft press of his lips to your forehead, the corner of your mouth, or your temple says more than words ever could.

when he’s feeling cheeky, viktor will give you the faintest ghost of a kiss just to hear you complain. “oh, you wanted more? perhaps if you asked nicely,” he’ll smirk before pulling you in again.

if the two of you have time alone, his kisses are deep and filled with unspoken emotions. his hands might grip your neck or your waist as if he’s afraid to let go, his lips moving with a raw intensity.

viktor loves how your eyes reveal your emotions, even when you try to hide them. he’ll hold your gaze longer than most, often smirking as if he’s read something you didn’t want him to see. “your eyes always give you away,” he’ll murmur.

viktor expresses love through action. he’ll quietly fix things, design little inventions for you, or work late into the night to make your life easier. to him, love is about making sure you’re cared for, even in practical ways.

while he’s often buried in his work, viktor treasures the moments he spends with you. whether you’re reading, talking, or simply sitting together, those quiet moments mean the world to him.

viktor loves subtle physical contact—resting a hand on your knee, brushing his fingers against yours, or tucking your hair behind your ear. he doesn’t need grand gestures; these little moments are enough for him.

viktor values your opinion more than he admits, and he loves pulling you into his world. he’ll explain his latest project with a mix of excitement and sarcasm, often teasing your lack of technical knowledge: “hmm, not bad—for an amateur.”

viktor is deeply aware of his flaws, but your understanding of him—and your ability to look past his gruffness—means everything to him.

he adores how you can match his sarcasm or challenge him in conversations. if you manage to catch him off guard, he’ll smirk and say, “impressive. i’ll allow it—just this once.”

viktor’s greatest fear is losing you, whether to time, danger, or his own mistakes. he hides this fear behind sarcasm, but it’s why he can be fiercely protective. “i don’t have time to worry about you,” he might say, but his lingering gaze betrays his concern.

viktor’s love is quiet, witty, and deeply intentional. he doesn’t always say the words aloud, but every touch, every action, and every teasing comment is his way of showing how much he adores you.

[we all know he’s in love with jayce, though]

[rottenfyre]

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ PERFECT LIFE 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

☆ ── 𝘗𝘈𝘐𝘙𝘐𝘕𝘎 : Yandere Damian Wayne x Fem Reader

☆ ── HEADCANON : 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥?

☆ ── NOTE : 𝘌𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦. 𝘏𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺!

Marriage with Damian Wayne is not a fairytale—it’s an obsession disguised as devotion.

From the moment Damian slipped that ring onto your finger, he silently swore to himself that no force in the world—be it man, god, or monster—would ever take you away from him. You are his, and he is yours. Completely.

Damian is the kind of husband who worships you in his own intense, borderline overbearing way. He refers to you as "beloved" in private and "my wife" with a possessive pride when speaking to others. The word "you" leaves his lips like a prayer, filled with reverence and authority all at once.

He memorizes every single one of your habits and preferences. He knows how you take your coffee, the exact temperature you prefer for your showers, the kinds of books you gravitate toward, and even the way your breathing changes when you're upset. It’s all cataloged in his mind so he can anticipate your every need before you even voice it.

Damian rarely lets you out of his sight. Even when he's at Wayne Enterprises or patrolling Gotham as Batman, his mind is constantly on you. He has cameras in the house to check in on you, and you can bet he’s hacked your phone to keep tabs on your location. He tells himself it’s for your safety, but the truth is he can’t bear the thought of not knowing where you are.

You’ve noticed how Damian often hovers. At first, it felt sweet—your husband leaning against the kitchen counter, silently watching as you cook dinner. But after a while, you realize it’s less about affection and more about possessiveness. He watches you like a hawk, as if ensuring you’ll never slip away from him.

Damian is fiercely protective, to the point of paranoia. You’ve never had to lift a finger in defense because he handles every perceived threat with ruthless efficiency. Some guy at work who got a little too friendly? Fired and blacklisted within the week. A stranger who made you uncomfortable in public? Let’s just say they’ll think twice before crossing anyone again.

He insists on walking you everywhere, hand firmly clasped around yours. When you protest, he coolly reminds you, "The streets of Gotham are not safe, beloved. Allow me this privilege."

Damian is terrifyingly romantic in the most intense, Damian Wayne way possible. He fills your home with rare flowers imported from across the globe, but you’ll find out later he had the entire shipment rerouted because he didn’t want anyone else to have them. He writes poetry about you in Arabic, his handwriting bold and precise, and hides the pages in places he knows you’ll find them.

Arguments with Damian can be draining because he does not let go. He won’t shout or lose his temper, but he will dissect the situation until you either agree with him or admit defeat. And if you try to storm off mid-fight? Good luck. He’s faster, stronger, and determined not to let you leave unresolved.

His softer moments are almost disarming. You’ll catch him staring at you when you’re reading or brushing your hair, and he looks so boyish and in love that it takes your breath away.

Damian is obsessed with physical contact. Whether it’s his hand resting on the small of your back, his arm draped over your shoulders, or his fingers intertwined with yours, he’s always touching you. It’s both grounding for him and a subtle way to remind himself—and everyone else—that you’re his.

Your wardrobe slowly changes under Damian’s influence. He loves seeing you in luxurious silks and soft cashmere, claiming you deserve only the finest. He buys you dresses and jewelry that scream wealth and power, though he always insists that nothing could ever truly compare to your beauty.

He doesn’t tolerate secrets between you two—at all. If you’re upset, he’ll press and press until you spill your feelings, his voice gentle but firm. And if you ever lie to him? He’ll know instantly. He won’t get angry, but his silent disappointment will cut deeper than any words ever could.

Damian spoils you to the extreme, but there’s an undertone of control in it. He doesn’t say it outright, but you know he expects a certain level of reciprocation: your attention, your love, your time.

When he sleeps (if he sleeps), his arm is always around your waist. If you ever wake up in the middle of the night and try to leave the bed, he’ll instinctively pull you back, murmuring, “Stay with me, habibti.”

Despite his obsession, Damian loves you deeply and wholeheartedly. In his own way, he truly believes he’s doing what’s best for you—protecting you, cherishing you, making you feel adored. And in those quiet, tender moments when he presses a kiss to your forehead and whispers how much you mean to him, you can’t help but believe it too.

But deep down, you know: Damian doesn’t just love you. He owns you. And he will never let you go.

ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ: ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ.

[mrsfancyferrari]

Need Saving

Summary: You are the first woman to be racing in Formula 1 and you and Max are already best friends. To Jos' dismay.

Song: Me and Your Mama by Childish Gambino

Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 Author’s note: CW: sexist comments, domestic violence (not from Max). I'm still salty about Daniel Ricciardo's exit to Formula 1 so I decided to add him a little here. THIS WILL BE A SERIES AND THANK YOU FOR THE 500 FOLLOWERS! Please like, reblog and share this! <3 ALSO IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!

Word count: 10.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

You are making history as the first woman to compete in Formula 1 with the Red Bull team, stepping in for Sergio Perez.

This groundbreaking achievement not only highlights your talent but also paves the way for future generations of female racers in a sport traditionally dominated by men.

Your personality shines through with a warm and friendly demeanor that makes you incredibly approachable. Colleagues and fans alike find you likable, creating an inviting atmosphere wherever you go.

This charm not only endears you to those around you but also helps foster a supportive environment within the competitive world of racing

Some have affectionately dubbed you the "Mini Honey Badger," a nod to the legendary Daniel Ricciardo. This playful comparison reflects your fierce determination and tenacity on the track, qualities that resonate with fans and fellow racers.

Your unique blend of charisma and competitive spirit is sure to leave a lasting impression in the world of Formula 1.

Luckily, you found yourself paired with one of the most talented drivers in the sport, Max Verstappen.

From the very beginning, you and Max clicked effortlessly, perhaps due to your shared sense of humor or the lighthearted way you both approached life outside of racing.

Max, known for his fierce competitiveness on the track, also had a playful side that drew you in. Whether it was sharing funny anecdotes from your childhood or engaging in friendly banter about each other's driving styles, the connection felt natural and invigorating.

You both understood the pressures of the sport, yet you managed to find joy in the little moments, whether it was a shared laugh over a silly meme or a light-hearted debate about the best racing video games.

This bond not only made your time together enjoyable but also fostered a sense of trust and teamwork that would prove invaluable as the season progressed.

During your initial week in Formula 1, the team was treated to a mix of corny jokes and uproarious laughter, creating an atmosphere that was both fun and relaxed.

It was clear that the camaraderie between you two was something special, and it didn’t take long for everyone to notice. The garage, usually filled with the tension of competition, transformed into a space of joy and lightheartedness.

You and Max would often engage in playful challenges, like who could come up with the worst dad joke or who could impersonate the team’s engineers the best.

These moments not only broke the ice but also helped to build a strong team spirit.

The mechanics and engineers, who often worked long hours under pressure, found themselves smiling more often, and the overall morale of the team improved.

It was as if your infectious energy had a ripple effect, reminding everyone that while racing was serious business, it was also about passion, fun, and the love of the sport.

Christian Horner, the team principal, seemed to recognize this chemistry right away.

He confidently remarked to the media about the dynamic of having a girl and a boy on the same team, suggesting that he had a good feeling about the partnership.

His words resonated with the fans and the media alike, sparking conversations about the evolving landscape of motorsport and the importance of diversity within the sport. It was evident that the two of you were destined to make waves together on and off the track.

Christian’s faith in your partnership only fueled your determination to succeed.

You both knew that the expectations were high, but instead of feeling overwhelmed, you embraced the challenge.

"Joseph, can you give me an update on the gap behind?" you inquired, your voice steady as it crackled through the radio to your race engineer.

The sound of your own heartbeat echoed in your ears, a reminder of the high stakes at play.

"You're looking at a 5-second lead over Norris, Y/N," Joseph Duke responded, his tone calm and focused.

As you navigated the track, the adrenaline surged through your veins, heightening your senses.

The smell of burning rubber and the roar of engines filled the air, but your focus remained solely on the asphalt ahead.

Max was currently leading the race, and you were right on his tail, just a heartbeat away from making a decisive move.

With the world championship points on the line, every second counted, and the team’s strategy was crucial.

"Copy that, Joseph. I’m feeling good about this pace. Should I push to overtake Max?" you asked, weighing your options.

The tension in the air was palpable, and you could almost hear the roar of the crowd in your mind, their cheers and gasps fueling your determination.

You could picture the fans waving flags, the excitement building as the race unfolded.

"Remember, he’s leading the championship, so those points are vital for him," Joseph reminded you, his voice steady and measured.

You took a deep breath, considering the risks and rewards of your next move. The thought of overtaking Max was tantalizing, but the consequences of a miscalculation loomed large.

"Understood. But if I don’t make a move soon, he might pull away," you replied, your mind racing through the possibilities.

You could see the track ahead, the curves and straightaways that could either make or break your race.

"Just keep your head in the game, Y/N. Focus on your lines and stay patient. The opportunity will come," Joseph advised, his experience guiding you through the chaos.

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, reminding yourself that patience was key.

As you approached the next turn, you felt the car respond to your every command, the tires gripping the asphalt with precision.

You could see Max’s car just ahead, a flash of blue and white, and the urge to push harder surged within you.

"Alright, I’ll hold back for now, but I’m ready when the moment strikes," you said, determination lacing your words.

The opportunity to seize the grand prix had slipped through your fingers, leaving you with a bittersweet taste of second place as Max celebrated his victory.

It wasn’t that you felt anger towards him; after all, the stakes were high, and the competition was fierce.

You had performed admirably, even outshining Checo this season, and Red Bull was finally back to their P1-P2 glory.

As you stepped out of your car, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins, you spotted Max waiting for you, his helmet off and a look of concern etched on his face.

He rushed over, his expression serious as he enveloped you in a quick hug. “You don’t hate me, do you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the unexpected question. Removing your helmet, you met his gaze with a warm smile. “Of course not! But don’t think I’ll go easy on you next week,” you replied playfully, your competitive spirit igniting once more.

Max’s face lit up with a genuine smile, the tension dissipating. “Mate, I won’t go down that easy!” he shot back, his eyes sparkling with the thrill of rivalry.

As you made your way to celebrate with the team, you noticed the difference in how they treated you compared to Max. While he was hoisted into the air, receiving enthusiastic cheers and bone-crushing hugs, you felt a more cautious approach directed your way.

It was a subtle reminder of the gender dynamics at play in the sport. You brushed it off, focusing instead on the camaraderie and the shared passion that brought you all together.

The post-race atmosphere was electric, filled with the sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and the occasional shout of joy.

You joined in the celebrations, clapping your hands and cheering for your teammates, but a part of you remained introspective.

You replayed the race in your mind, analyzing every corner, every overtaking maneuver, and every missed opportunity.

The thrill of competition was intoxicating, but so was the desire to prove yourself, not just to the team but to the world.

As the evening unfolded, you found yourself lingering at the periphery of the lively celebration, your gaze fixed on Max as he reveled in the spotlight of his victory.

He was the star of the night, the one everyone clamored to congratulate, while you stood in the shadows, merely the second driver.

Christian approached, giving your shoulder a friendly pat, a gesture of appreciation for your support. Yet, it felt insufficient.

You masked your feelings with a bright smile as you watched Max raise his glass, laughter spilling from his lips as the clock inched toward midnight.

“Goodnight, Max,” you called out, aware that your boyfriend, Jake would be less than pleased if you lingered too long.

“Goodnight, best friend! Did I mention you look lovely tonight?” Max replied, his words slightly slurred as he pulled you into a warm embrace.

You felt your cheeks heat up. “No, you didn’t! Thank you, Max. You look great too!” you managed to say, your heart fluttering at the compliment.

As the night wore on, you exchanged goodbyes with the others, the atmosphere buzzing with joy and celebration.

You decided it was time to head home, opting for a taxi since you had indulged in a few drinks earlier.

Once inside the cab, you leaned back against the seat, reflecting on the evening. The laughter, the cheers, and the way Max had shone like a beacon of success.

It was hard not to feel a twinge of envy, but you pushed it aside, reminding yourself of the bond you shared.

The driver navigated through the city streets, and you pulled out your phone, scrolling through the photos from the night.

There was Max, grinning ear to ear, surrounded by friends, and there you were, a supportive figure in the background.

Just as the car turned, your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you glanced down to see a message from Jake.

“Where are you?” he texted, the words appearing on your screen like a gentle reminder of the warmth waiting for you at home.

You smiled, feeling a rush of affection as you typed back, “Just left the party! On my way home now. Can’t wait to see you!”

The taxi weaved through the city streets, and you could almost picture him waiting for you, perhaps pacing a little, his brow furrowed in that adorable way he did when he was worried.

You could hear his voice in your head, teasing you about how you always took too long to say goodbye, but you knew he loved it just as much as you did.

As the taxi pulled up to your building, you felt a flutter of excitement. You paid the driver and hurried inside, your heart racing with anticipation.

As you stepped into the apartment, a heavy scent of alcohol hit you like a wave, and your heart sank.

The cheerful anticipation you had felt moments before evaporated, replaced by a knot of anxiety in your stomach. You knew Jake had been struggling lately, and the telltale signs of his mood were all around you.

Empty bottles cluttered the coffee table, their labels peeling and faded, remnants of nights spent drowning sorrows that seemed to multiply with each passing day.

Taking a deep breath, you cautiously made your way further inside, hoping to find a glimmer of the warmth you once cherished, a flicker of the love that had once filled this space.

“Hey, babe, I’m home!” you called out, trying to inject some cheer into the atmosphere, but your voice felt small and fragile against the oppressive silence that enveloped the room.

The silence that followed was deafening, and you could feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating.

Just then, he emerged from the shadows of the living room, his eyes glassy and unfocused, as if he were peering through a fog that had settled deep within him.

“Oh, look who decided to show up,” he sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm, each word laced with bitterness. “Did you have fun pretending to be normal out there?”

You felt a chill run down your spine as he continued, hurling insults that cut deeper than you wanted to admit.

It was as if he was trying to push you away, to create a chasm between you that felt insurmountable.

And yet, amidst the hurt, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for the man you loved, the one who was lost beneath layers of pain and anger.

“Why do you always have to do this?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly, the vulnerability in your tone betraying the strength you wished to project. “I just want to help you.”

He scoffed, dismissing your concern with a wave of his hand, the gesture almost theatrical in its disdain. “Help? You mean control. You think you can just waltz in here and fix everything? You’re just like everyone else, trying to tell me what to do.”

The words stung, and you felt the weight of his accusations pressing down on you, each syllable a reminder of the distance that had grown between you.

“I’m not trying to control you,” you replied softly, “I just want to be there for you. Can’t we talk about this?”

But as you looked into his eyes, you realized that the man you once knew was slipping further away, lost in a haze of his own making.

His gaze, once so full of life and passion, now seemed clouded, distant. It was as if he was peering through a murky window, unable or unwilling to see the vibrant world outside.

You could see the shadows of his struggles etched on his face, the lines of worry and anger deepening with each passing day. It pained you to witness this transformation, to see the light in him dimmed by his own fears and insecurities.

“Why can’t you see that I’m trying to help?” you pressed, your heart racing as desperation crept into your voice. “I’m not your enemy. I want to understand what you’re going through.”

You took a tentative step closer, hoping to bridge the gap that felt insurmountable.

But he recoiled slightly, as if your words were a physical blow, and the distance between you felt more pronounced than ever.

“Understand?” he scoffed, his tone laced with bitterness. “You think you can just waltz in and understand? You have no idea what it’s like to feel trapped, to have every choice taken from you. You don’t know the weight of this burden.”

His voice cracked, revealing a flicker of vulnerability beneath the bravado.

As soon as you opened your mouth to speak, Jake brushed by you, grabbing his coat and shoes in one swift motion.

"I'm heading out for a walk. Don't even think about following me," he snapped, his words laced with the sting of alcohol.

You simply nodded, feeling a mix of concern and frustration, but you stayed rooted in place until you heard the door slam shut behind him.

With the sound echoing in the silence, you finally exhaled, the tension in your chest easing just a bit. You glanced around the room, the remnants of the night scattered everywhere—empty bottles and crumpled napkins littered the floor.

"Guess it's cleanup time," you muttered to yourself, bending down to gather the bottles. As you worked, your mind raced with thoughts of him.

Just then, your phone buzzed on the table. It was a message from your best friend, Sarah.

"Hey! How's everything? You okay?"

You sighed, typing back quickly. "Not great. He just stormed out after a fight. I’m cleaning up the mess now."

A moment later, your phone chimed again. "Want me to come over? I can help."

You hesitated, glancing at the door. "No, it’s fine. I just need to sort things out."

"Are you sure? You shouldn’t be alone right now."

You paused, considering her words. "I’ll be okay. I just need to think."

As you continued to tidy up, you replayed the argument in your mind. It had started over something trivial, but the alcohol had turned it into a full-blown fight.

You could hear his voice in your head, the way he had raised his tone, the way he had dismissed your feelings.

"Why does he always do this?" you whispered to yourself, frustration bubbling up again.

You were well aware that he wouldn’t be returning anytime soon.

After tidying up the house, you decided to treat yourself to a long, relaxing bath.

The warm water enveloped you, washing away the day’s worries. Once you felt refreshed, you slipped into your favorite pajamas and crawled into bed, the soft sheets providing a comforting embrace.

He hadn’t always been this way—filled with anger and lost in the depths of alcoholism.

You both had shared a beautiful love story, starting as high school sweethearts. You could still remember the way he used to look at you, his eyes sparkling with affection, mirroring the love you felt for him.

As you lay there, memories flooded your mind. You recalled the laughter, the late-night talks, and the dreams you had built together. But now, those dreams felt like distant echoes, overshadowed by the weight of his struggles.

Maybe it was the pressure of work that was taking a toll on him. You thought back to the last time you had a heart-to-heart.

“Do you remember when we used to talk about our future?” you had asked him one evening, the two of you sitting on the porch, the sun setting in a blaze of colors.

He had sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I remember. It feels like a lifetime ago.”

“Things can get better, you know. We can work through this together,” you had urged, your heart aching for the man you once knew.

He had looked away, his expression clouded. “I don’t know if I can. Sometimes it feels like I’m drowning, and I don’t know how to swim anymore.”

You had reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “You’re not alone in this. I’m here for you, always.”

But as the days turned into weeks, the distance between you grew. The man you loved was slipping away, replaced by someone you barely recognized.

Now, lying in bed, you couldn’t help but wonder if he would ever find his way back to you. Would he remember the love you once shared? Would he fight against the demons that haunted him?

With a heavy heart, you closed your eyes, hoping that tomorrow would bring a glimmer of hope, a sign that the man you loved was still inside, waiting to break free.

As you settled into bed, the glow of your phone screen illuminated the dark room, revealing a flurry of notifications that had accumulated while you were winding down.

Most of them were filled with excitement, congratulating you on your impressive second-place finish in the race. However, amidst the sea of cheerful messages, one stood out—a private note from Max.

While some comments stung with negativity, suggesting you didn’t belong in the world of Formula 1, Max’s message was a beacon of warmth.

“Thanks for coming to celebrate with me 👍,” it read, and a smile crept across your face, momentarily pushing away the weight of the harsh words.

You felt a mix of emotions swirling within you, and for a moment, tears threatened to spill over. But instead of succumbing to the sadness, you decided to respond to Max.

Your fingers danced over the screen as you typed, “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, you deserved it! 😁” The moment you hit send, a sense of relief washed over you.

It was a reminder that amidst the criticism, there were still those who appreciated your presence and celebrated your achievements.

You could almost hear Max’s laughter echoing in your mind, a sound that always seemed to lift your spirits.

Just as you were about to put your phone down, a new message popped up from Max. “You really made the night special! I’m glad you were there. Let’s catch up soon?”

His words filled you with warmth, and you could picture him grinning with alcohol still in his system, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

“Absolutely! I’d love to,” you replied, feeling a renewed sense of purpose.

After setting your phone aside for the night, you drifted off to sleep, the soft hum of the world outside fading into a distant memory.

When you awoke, you were enveloped in a warm embrace, the kind that felt like home. Instantly, you recognized the familiar presence of Jake, his body radiating warmth against yours.

The scent of alcohol lingered in the air, a reminder of his previous night out with friends, a detail that both amused and concerned you.

A smile crept across your face as you turned to see him, his features relaxed and serene, a stark contrast to the tension that had marked his demeanor the night before.

Curiosity sparked within you, igniting a flurry of questions as you pondered where he had spent his time, what stories he might have to share, and whether the night had been as wild as you imagined.

You felt a rush of affection for him, a desire to know every detail of his adventures, to understand the man who had captured your heart so completely.

Despite the warnings from your friends urging you to reconsider your relationship, your feelings for him remained steadfast, unwavering like a lighthouse in a storm.

They claimed he was a source of trouble, a tempest that could jeopardize your career and stir up scandals that would ripple through your life.

Yet, deep down, you understood him better than they did, seeing the layers of his character that they overlooked. You believed in his integrity, in the goodness that lay beneath the surface, and you knew he wouldn’t intentionally cause chaos in your life.

Their concerns echoed in your mind, but they felt distant, like the sound of waves crashing against a far-off shore.

You were determined to forge your own path, to trust your instincts, and to embrace the love that had blossomed between you, even if it meant standing alone against the tide of skepticism.

Although your relationship was already in the public eye, with whispers and speculation swirling around you like autumn leaves caught in a gust of wind, he had yet to join you in the paddock due to his work commitments.

You felt a mix of anticipation and longing, a bittersweet ache in your chest as you navigated the bustling environment without him by your side.

As you glanced at your phone, the screen illuminated the early morning hour, signaling it was time for your daily jog.

You carefully extricated yourself from Jake's embrace, trying not to disturb his peaceful slumber.

Just as you were about to tiptoe out of the room, you caught a faint mumble escaping his lips, a mix of sleep and concern. “Where are you going?” he murmured, his voice thick with drowsiness.

You paused for a moment, torn between the urge to reassure him and the need to stick to your routine.

“I’m just going for a quick run, love. I’ll be back before you know it,” you replied softly, hoping to ease any lingering worries. His brow furrowed slightly, even in his sleep, as if he sensed your departure was more than just a morning ritual.

“You always run too early… what if someone sees you?” he muttered, a hint of jealousy creeping into his voice, even in his dreams.

With a gentle smile, you leaned down to plant a quick kiss on his forehead. “I’ll be fine, I promise. It’s just me and the open road. You know I love my morning jogs.”

You could feel the tension in the air, a familiar weight that often accompanied your outings. “Okay,” he finally said, though the uncertainty lingered in his tone.

You quickly changed into your jogging attire before stepping out of the house. With a sense of urgency, you slipped into your comfortable workout gear, ready to embrace the fresh air outside.

The fabric of your favorite moisture-wicking shirt clung to your skin, and the soft elastic of your running shorts felt familiar and reassuring.

You laced up your well-worn sneakers, the soles still resilient from countless miles, and took a moment to stretch your legs, feeling the anticipation build within you.

Once dressed, you felt the excitement of the run ahead, eager to hit the pavement and enjoy the rhythm of your feet against the ground.

The world outside beckoned, vibrant and alive, as you opened the door and stepped into the crisp morning air. The scent of dew-kissed grass and blooming flowers filled your lungs, invigorating your spirit.

You took a deep breath, letting the coolness wash over you, and with a quick glance at the sky, you noted the sun just beginning to rise, casting a golden hue across the horizon.

As you began to jog, the familiar cadence of your heartbeat matched the steady thump of your feet on the pavement. Each stride felt liberating, a release from the confines of the day-to-day.

You could feel the tension of the week melting away with every step, replaced by a sense of freedom and clarity.

The rhythmic sound of your breath mingled with the rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of birds, creating a symphony of nature that accompanied you on your journey.

As you were enjoying your morning jog through the park, the rhythmic sound of your feet hitting the pavement was suddenly interrupted by a group of enthusiastic voices.

A cluster of women and girls approached you, their faces lighting up with excitement. "Excuse me! Miss Y/N! Can we get your autograph?" one of them exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with admiration.

You paused, a bit surprised but also flattered, and smiled at the eager crowd. "Of course! I’d be happy to," you replied, pulling out a small notepad from your pocket.

Amid the chatter, a young girl stepped forward, her cheeks flushed with excitement. "I want to start go-karting because I want to be just like you!" she declared, her voice filled with determination.

You could see the passion in her eyes, and it warmed your heart. "That’s amazing! Go-karting is such a fun sport," you encouraged her. "What do you love most about it?"

The girl beamed, her confidence growing as she shared her dreams of racing and the thrill of speed. "I love the idea of being in control and going fast! It looks so cool!"

You nodded, feeling a sense of responsibility to inspire her. "You know, every champion starts somewhere. If you really want to do it, just keep practicing and never give up. Surround yourself with people who support you, and you’ll go far," you advised, hoping to instill a sense of belief in her.

The girl’s eyes widened, and she nodded vigorously. "I will! Thank you so much!"

As the group dispersed, you felt a renewed sense of purpose, realizing that your journey could inspire others to chase their dreams, just as you had. . . .

As the days rolled on, the team decided to spice things up a bit before race week by organizing a fun game called "How Well Do You Know Each Other."

The idea was to not only entertain the fans but also to give everyone a glimpse into the camaraderie between you and Max.

You found yourself standing in front of the camera, a mix of excitement and nerves bubbling inside you, while Max lounged comfortably on the sofa behind you, his headphones snugly in place, unable to listen in.

The staff kicked off the game with a playful tone, "Alright, let’s start with you! The first question about Max is… what is Max's favorite food?" You grinned, confident in your knowledge of your teammate.

"Oh, I know this one! Max is a huge fan of both Italian and Dutch cuisine, while I personally lean more towards Spanish dishes," you replied, your voice filled with enthusiasm.

The crew chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter, and you could see Max nodding in agreement, a smirk on his face even though he didn't know what you said.

After a few more questions, it was time for the roles to reverse. You took a seat on the sofa, and Max stood in front of the camera, a playful glint in his eyes.

The staff asked him the same question, and he leaned forward, a teasing smile forming. "Well, I know my teammate pretty well! She loves her Spanish food, but I think she secretly wishes she could cook like an Italian chef," he joked.

"You better be getting this right, I wanna beat Charles and Carlos' record," you said, feeling the competitive in you to beat Ferrari's record of 18 out of 20 right.

Max only turned around and gave an okay sign since you couldn't hear him, adding a little small wink for the tease but it was caught on camera.

In the end, both you and Max aced all the questions, and the excitement bubbled over as you jumped up and down, your energy infectious. Max stood nearby, a wide grin spreading across his face as he watched your enthusiasm.

"See, everyone! Red Bull is clearly the superior team compared to Ferrari, so make sure to support us this week!" you exclaimed, wrapping up the video with a flourish.

As you turned to Max, you noticed he was still gazing at you, lost in thought. It took you by surprise.

"Max, do you want to add anything to what I just said?" you asked, a playful grin on your face as you nudged his shoulder gently.

Snapping back to reality, Max turned to the camera, a hint of sheepishness in his expression.

"Oh, umm, yeah… Red Bull domination, I guess?" he replied, his voice a mix of uncertainty and enthusiasm.

You couldn't help but burst into laughter at his response, and Max's smile widened, clearly pleased that he could make you laugh.

"Alright, everyone, that's a wrap! We'll catch you all soon. Fingers crossed for another P1-P2 finish, but maybe next time we can switch things up a bit," you said, waving enthusiastically at the camera.

As the camera clicked off, you turned to the crew with a warm smile, expressing your gratitude for their support. You shifted your focus to Max, who was standing nearby, a mix of anticipation and amusement on his face.

"Hey, Max," you began, a playful glint in your eye. "How does it feel to be the most compatible drivers on the grid?"

Max's eyes widened slightly at the phrase "most compatible," and you could see a hint of color rising to his cheeks. But as soon as he processed the word "driver," his expression shifted to one of mild disappointment.

"It feels nice, I guess," he replied, a smirk creeping onto his lips. "Just another thing to brag about to Lando, right?"

You chuckled, knowing how much Max loved to tease his fellow drivers. "Oh, absolutely! I can already picture it—Lando rolling his eyes while you go on about how you and I are the ultimate duo."

Max laughed, shaking his head. "He'll probably come up with some ridiculous comeback, like how he’s the best driver in the world or something."

"Well, he does have a knack for that," you said, leaning against the wall, enjoying the banter. "But let’s be honest, you two are like an old married couple. Always bickering but secretly caring for each other."

Max rolled his eyes dramatically. "Please, I’m not ready for that kind of commitment. I can barely handle my own sleeping schedule!"

Max shrugged, a hint of humility creeping into his demeanor. "But honestly, having you around makes it easier. You bring a different energy to the team."

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words. "Thanks, Max. That means a lot coming from you. I think we balance each other out pretty well."

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Yeah, it’s like we have this unspoken understanding. You know when to push me and when to let me breathe. It’s refreshing."

"Exactly! And it’s not just about racing; it’s about the camaraderie we build off the track too. Those late-night strategy sessions and the random moments of laughter—they all add up."

Max chuckled, recalling a particularly ridiculous moment from a previous race weekend. "Remember that time we got lost trying to find the catering tent? We ended up in that random fan zone instead!"

You burst out laughing, the memory flooding back. "Oh my god, yes! And those fans were so excited to see us, they thought we were there for a meet-and-greet! We ended up taking selfies with them for an hour."

"Right? And then we finally found the catering tent, only to discover they were out of your favorite pasta!" Max added, shaking his head in disbelief.

"That was a tragedy," you said, feigning a dramatic sigh. "But it turned into one of the best days. I wouldn’t trade those moments for anything."

Max’s gaze softened as he looked at you, a genuine smile breaking through. "Me neither. It’s those little things that make all the hard work worth it."

You both stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the camaraderie between you palpable. The atmosphere around the paddock buzzed with activity, but in that moment, it felt like you were in your own little world.

"Alright, enough of the mushy stuff," Max said, breaking the moment with a playful nudge. "Let’s get back to business. We’ve got a race to prepare for, and I can’t let you steal all my glory."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Oh, please! You know I’m just here to make you look good. Besides, I wouldn’t dream of overshadowing the reigning champion."

What you two didn't know was that the cameras didn't stop but recorded your little moment, which went viral in the few minutes that it was posted. . . . .

★・・・・・・★ ★・・・・・・★ ★・・・・・・★

★・・・・・・★ ★・・・・・・★ ★・・・・・・★

You knew that the public would start shipping you and Max together sooner or later but you weren't bothered with it.

You had a boyfriend who you cared for deeply, someone who had been your rock through the ups and downs of your racing career. Yet, his reaction to the swirling rumors about you and Max took you by surprise.

You never imagined he would be so affected by the gossip that seemed to spread like wildfire through the paddock and beyond.

Here you were, caught in a web of emotions, torn between the thrill of a new chapter and the loyalty you felt towards your current relationship.

As you stepped through the door of your home, the familiar scent of your shared space enveloped you, but it did little to ease the tension that hung in the air.

You found Jake lounging on the couch, his eyes glued to his phone, the glow of the screen illuminating his furrowed brow. The atmosphere was thick with unspoken words, and you could sense that something was off.

“Hey, babe,” you greeted him, trying to sound cheerful despite the weight on your shoulders. He barely looked up, his fingers scrolling furiously, as if searching for answers in the digital chaos.

“Did you hear about you and Max?” he finally snapped, his voice laced with irritation, cutting through the silence like a knife. “It’s all over social media. Are you really going to let this get to you?”

You felt your heart sink; you had hoped for a different reaction, one that would reassure you that your relationship was strong enough to withstand the storm of rumors.

“Come on, it’s just rumors,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, though the tremor in it betrayed your inner turmoil. “You know I’m committed to only you.”

You watched as he shot you a skeptical glance, his jealousy bubbling to the surface like a volcano ready to erupt. “Yeah, but how can I trust you when you’re out there with him all the time? It’s not just a coincidence that everyone is talking about it.”

The words stung, and you took a deep breath. "Babe I love only you-"

"Please, don’t even think about it! You know I’m stuck here because if I walked away, your fans would make my life a living nightmare," Jake exclaimed, his voice laced with frustration.

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you reeling from the harsh reality of your situation.

It was as if he had taken a knife and twisted it, exposing the raw vulnerability you had tried so hard to hide.

You could feel the sting of tears welling up in your eyes, but you fought to keep them at bay. "I didn’t ask for any of this," you replied, your voice trembling slightly.

The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, and you could sense the tension between you growing thicker by the second. It was a battle of emotions, and you were losing ground.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I know it’s not fair, but you have to understand the pressure I’m under. It’s not just about us; it’s about my career, my fans. I can’t let them down."

His eyes softened for a moment, revealing a glimpse of the man you fell in love with.

"But I don’t want to lose you. Can’t we find a way to make this work?" You pleaded.

"I don't know," he muttered, not lifting his eyes from his phone before standing up and walking past you to get his coat and shoes. "i'm gonna take a walk,"

This has been a pattern for weeks now. You would come home, he would start an argument then make up an excuse to leave the house, leaving you to either pick up his mess or go to sleep without your partner. To only wake up with him cuddling you in the morning and apologise for his action last night.

You were getting sick of it but you still love him too much to break up with him. . . .

The days that followed were a blur of introspection and emotional turmoil. Each time you caught a glimpse of Jake’s name on your phone, a knot formed in your stomach.

You had always been the type to see the good in people, to believe that love could conquer all, but the reality of your situation was becoming harder to ignore.

The moments of tenderness were overshadowed by the growing unease that settled in your chest like a heavy stone.

You spent more time with Sarah, who seemed to sense your internal struggle. She filled your days with laughter and distraction, taking you out for coffee, long walks in the park, and movie marathons that kept your mind off the impending decision.

Yet, no matter how much you tried to push it aside, the thought of Jake lingered like a shadow, reminding you of the grip he had on your heart—and not in a way that felt safe or loving.

One evening, as you and Sarah sat on the balcony watching the sunset, the sky painted in hues of orange and pink, she turned to you again.

"Y/N, I know it’s hard, but you have to prioritize your happiness. You can’t keep living in this limbo," she said, her voice steady and unwavering.

You looked out at the horizon, the beauty of the moment contrasting sharply with the turmoil inside you.

"I know," you replied, your voice thick with emotion. "But what if I’m wrong? What if he really can change?"

The fear of making the wrong choice loomed large, a specter that haunted your thoughts.

"Change is possible, but it has to come from him, not from you hoping for it," Sarah said gently. "You can’t be the one to fix him. You’re not responsible for his happiness or his growth. You deserve to be with someone who respects you and makes you feel safe."

Her words struck a chord deep within you. You thought back to the last time he had gripped your arm, the way his eyes had darkened, and how you had brushed it off as a moment of frustration.

But now, in the light of day, you could see it for what it was—a warning sign that you had been too afraid to acknowledge.

That night, as you lay in bed, the silence of your room felt deafening. You replayed every moment of your relationship, the good and the bad, and slowly, the scales began to tip.

The holiday seemed to fly by in the blink of an eye, and soon you found yourself stepping into the paddock alongside Sarah and Jake.

As you walked, you could feel the tension in the air; Jake wore a strained smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, gripping your hand a little too tightly.

“Hey, look at all the fans!” you exclaimed, trying to lighten the mood as you waved enthusiastically at the crowd, signing autographs for those who called out your name.

Sarah, taking a break from her hectic job, had decided to join you, her laughter ringing out like music amidst the bustling atmosphere.

“Isn’t this amazing?” you said, glancing at Sarah, who was snapping pictures with her phone. “I can’t believe how many people came out today!”

She nodded, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “It’s like a mini-celebration! But where’s your boyfriend? He seems a bit off today.”

You shrugged, trying to brush off the concern. “I don’t know, maybe he’s just tired. We haven’t really talked much since we got back.”

You stole a glance at him, who was still smiling, but it felt forced, like he was putting on a show for everyone around.

You made the decision to invite Jake into your driver’s room for a heart-to-heart conversation. As you settled into the familiar space, you turned to him with a gentle concern.

“Hey, are you doing okay?” you asked, your voice soft and inviting.

Jake looked at you, his expression a mix of regret and longing, as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. “I’m alright, really. I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting lately,” he replied, his tone sincere.

In that moment, you felt a rush of warmth; you had missed the comfort of his touch more than you realized.

“Jake, I need to let you know that I have to leave soon,” you murmured, trying to keep the conversation grounded. But he seemed lost in his own thoughts, his gaze intense and filled with desire.

“Why don’t you just quit your job already? I can take care of you, I promise,” he suggested, his voice dripping with temptation.

The idea hung in the air between you, and for a fleeting moment, you felt the pull of his offer.

It was tempting, but the passion you had for Formula 1 was a flame that burned too brightly to extinguish for anyone, even someone as captivating as Jake.

You took a deep breath, weighing your options. “Jake, you know how much this means to me. Formula 1 isn’t just a job; it’s my dream,” you replied, your heart heavy with the conflict.

He stepped back slightly, his expression shifting from desire to disappointment. “I get it, but can’t you see how much I care about you? I want us to be together, and I thought you felt the same way,” he said, frustration creeping into his voice.

You could see the struggle in his eyes, and it pained you to know that your passion for racing was creating a rift between you.

“I do care about you, but I can’t just walk away from everything I’ve worked for,” you insisted, hoping he would understand.

As you stand there, the tension weighs heavily in the air, palpable and thick, as Jake's frustration spills over, his voice tinged with a mix of hurt and desperation.

"But what about me?" he asks, his eyes searching yours for an answer that you know is difficult to provide. "Since you started this job, we haven’t done anything together. All you've been doing is hanging out with that Max boy. Don’t you see it?"

His words cut through the silence, piercing the surface of your mind and forcing you to confront the tangled web of your life that feels all too overwhelming at this moment.

As you gather your thoughts, aware that the job has transformed your priorities and the once-familiar relationship with Jake has shifted, you attempt to articulate your feelings, to bridge the widening chasm of misunderstanding.

"Jake—" you start, your voice tremulous, hoping to weave a delicate thread of connection that can pull you both back to a place of understanding, but he interjects, the intensity of his emotions propelling him forward before you can offer your perspective.

"I’ll show you—don't worry," he mutters, the frustration lacing his tone beginning to dissipate as he suddenly wraps his arms around you, pulling you close in a gesture that is both protective and possessive.

The warmth of his body against yours sends a shiver down your spine, a reminder of the bond you once cherished.

Feeling the urgency of the moment, his lips find yours, a kiss that ignites a flicker of hope amid the turmoil of doubt and fear swirling around you. . . .

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After the holiday break, you had started to act differently, almost as if a shadow had fallen over their usual camaraderie.

Whenever he approached to nudge her shoulder playfully, she would flinch, a look of surprise crossing her face as if she were bracing for something unpleasant.

It was a stark contrast to the easygoing banter they once shared, and he couldn't help but notice how she had become more withdrawn, often lost in her thoughts, her laughter replaced by a distant gaze.

He believed you were feeling down because the team was struggling to achieve the results they had hoped for.

Typically, his father would reach out to him after a disappointing race, sometimes even resorting to physical punishment if the outcome was particularly disheartening.

It was a routine he had come to accept, thinking it was a common experience shared by many.

However, everything changed when his therapist pointed out that not everyone endured such treatment, which sparked a rebellion within him against his father's harsh ways.

"Why do you always have to be so hard on me?" he had shouted one evening, frustration boiling over.

His father, taken aback, responded with a stern look, "Because I want you to be the best, Max. You need to learn that life isn’t always fair."

But Max felt differently; he wanted to be supported, not punished.

As he pondered your situation, he couldn't help but wonder if you had faced similar challenges.

"Do you have someone in your life who treats you badly?" he asked cautiously, trying to gauge your response.

Your eyes widened at the sudden question before you shook your head, a small smile breaking through the clouds of doubt.

"No, not like that. Everyone is really supportive of me these days."

Max felt a wave of relief wash over him, grateful that you had not been in that cycle of abuse he had been so familiar with.

In many of the recent races, both you and Max found yourselves finishing in the P2 to P4 range, or sometimes not making it to the podium at all, which left the team feeling quite disheartened.

The once-promising season had turned into a series of missed opportunities, and the weight of expectations began to take its toll on everyone involved.

The atmosphere in the garage was thick with tension, and the engineers were working overtime to analyze data and strategize for the next race, but the results were still falling short of what the team had hoped for.

This situation also prompted Max's father, Jos, to plan a visit during the race weekend. He intended to check in on his son and perhaps give him a much-needed reality check, quite literally.

As the race day approached, Jos observed his son engaging in cheerful conversation with you, rather than focusing on the engineers to gather crucial insights, a routine Max typically adhered to before a race.

This deviation from his usual pre-race preparation did not sit well with Jos.

He had always believed that the hours leading up to a race were critical for mental conditioning and strategy formulation. To see Max laughing and joking instead of poring over telemetry data or discussing race strategies with the engineers was concerning for him.

Jos's frustration grew as he watched the interaction unfold. He believed that your presence was a distraction, pulling Max away from the intense focus required for peak performance.

In his eyes, the bond you shared with his son was undermining Max's potential to excel on the track.

He felt that friendships weren't important and they should not come at the expense of Max's dedication to his craft.

Jos was determined to address this issue head-on, convinced that a serious conversation was necessary to realign Max's priorities. . . . .

In the midst of a lively discussion filled with laughter and camaraderie, Jos abruptly interjected, "Max, I need to talk to you right now."

His tone cut through the jovial atmosphere, drawing the attention of both you and his son. The laughter faded, replaced by a sudden stillness as everyone turned to witness the unfolding scene.

Max's expression shifted from joy to disappointment as he glanced at you, yet he managed to offer a reassuring smile before reluctantly following his father away from the group.

"Yes, Father?" Max responded in Dutch, his voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of apprehension. The way he spoke suggested a mix of respect and wariness, as if he were bracing himself for a conversation he knew would be anything but easy.

Jos wasted no time in launching into his concerns, his words spilling out with a sense of urgency.

"You must distance yourself from that girl; she is a distraction that will hinder your performance in the race," he asserted, his tone firm and authoritative, as if he were delivering a decree rather than a request.

The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, a stark contrast to the lightheartedness that had just moments ago enveloped the gathering.

Max, however, was quick to defend you, his loyalty evident in the way he stood a little taller, his brow furrowing in determination. "No, she doesn't distract me, Father. She's my teammate," he stated, his voice steady and resolute.

The conviction in his tone reflected a bond that transcended mere friendship; it was a partnership built on shared goals and mutual respect.

Yet, as he spoke, the tension between father and son thickened, a palpable clash of wills that seemed to reverberate through the quiet space around them.

Jos, sensing the resistance in Max's voice, shifted his approach, employing subtle manipulation to sway his son’s perspective.

"Think about your future, Max. You have so much potential, and I only want what is best for you," he continued, his voice softening slightly, as if trying to appeal to Max's aspirations.

The words were carefully chosen, designed to instill doubt about your influence, to paint you as an obstacle rather than an ally.

Max hesitated, caught between his father's expectations and his own feelings.

The internal struggle was evident on his face, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features as he grappled with the conflicting loyalties that tugged at his heart.

"It is evident in your results over the weeks, you've been falling off the high scores recently, hardly been able to reach third place because of that girl!" Jos stressed out and Max became quiet, letting those words sink in.

"Max, think about it," Jos continued, his tone shifting to one of persuasion. "You need to focus on your game and not let distractions get in the way. She's not worth it."

Max felt a mix of emotions swirling inside him. He had always admired his father's wisdom, but now he sensed a subtle manipulation at play. Jos was trying to steer him away from his feelings, and deep down, Max knew it.

Yet, the idea of disappointing his father loomed larger than his own desires.

"Okay, Father," Max finally replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

He felt a pang of regret as he agreed, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was losing a part of himself in the process. As he walked away, he contemplated the choices ahead of him.

Was it worth sacrificing his happiness for the sake of competition?

As he walked away, the sound of his father's footsteps fading behind him, he contemplated the choices ahead of him.

The internal struggle was just beginning, and Max knew he had to find a way to balance his passion for the game with the complexities of his heart.

He thought of you—the woman who had sparked something within him, a light that had ignited a warmth he hadn't been able to feel like Daniel left.

After he began to distance himself from you, he noticed a change in your demeanor.

You seemed more withdrawn, putting on a facade of happiness with a constant smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. You were hiding behind long-sleeved coats, even in the warm weather, creating a barrier between yourself and the world around you.

The vibrant laughter that once filled the air when you were together had been replaced by a silence that hung heavily between you, punctuated only by the occasional forced chuckle or polite nod.

Max could see the way your shoulders slumped slightly, as if the weight of unspoken words and unshared feelings was pressing down on you.

Your eyes, once bright with enthusiasm and mischief, now seemed clouded, reflecting a deep-seated sadness that you tried so hard to conceal.

He remembered the long pointless conversations, the dreams you both had shared, and the plans that now felt like distant memories. It pained him to witness your struggle, yet he felt powerless to bridge the growing chasm between you.

Despite the guilt that gnawed at him, Max couldn’t help but recognize a shift in his own performance on the racetrack.

He found himself consistently finishing on the podium, a stark contrast to your struggles as you remained trapped within the top ten.

Each trophy he lifted felt heavier than the last, a reminder of the friendship that had once fueled his passion for racing.

He could hear the cheers of the crowd, feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, but all he could think about was how you used to be there, celebrating alongside him, your face alight with pride and joy.

While he celebrated his achievements, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something important was missing.

The camaraderie they once shared seemed to slip further away with each passing race, leaving him to wonder if the price of success was worth the cost of their connection.

He often found himself glancing over at the empty spot in the pit where you used to stand, your eyes sparkling with encouragement, your voice ringing out with advice that had always kept him grounded.

As the races continued, Max felt a growing urgency to reach out, to break through the walls you had built around yourself.

But his father kept him grounded and not letting that thought come to life anytime soon. . . .

As you maneuver through the winding turns of the racetrack, adrenaline surges through your veins, a heady blend of focus and exhilaration.

"Joseph, what's the gap to Max?" you inquire, your voice steady despite the chaos enveloping you as you glance at the rearview mirror, noticing Charles's fierce pursuit as he falls into your peripheral vision, momentarily eclipsed by your recent strategic overtaking maneuver.

"2.3 seconds in front of you, Y/N," Joseph replies, his tone equally crisp yet slightly strained, hinting at the intensity of the moment.

The hum of the engine, the vibrations of the car, and the distant roar of the crowd blend into a symphony of speed, and as you negotiate the track, your mind sharpens with determination.

You consider your next move with meticulous care, knowing that a split-second decision could alter the course of the race.

Holding tightly to the steering wheel, you then ask, “Do I have permission to take over?”

Pause hangs in the air like a fragile breath, and you can almost anticipate Joseph's reply, especially given the longstanding tradition wherein hesitance often blankets these life-altering decisions.

Sure enough, after a fleeting silence, you prepare for the inevitable response that would echo in your ears like an unwelcome refrain, one you were all too familiar with.

But just as you brace yourself for a “no,” the radio crackles to life again—this time with a tidal wave of unexpected urgency.

"Yes! Y/N? Can you hear me? The team has approved the overtake of Max! Go for it!" Joseph’s voice bursts through with a burst of energy, jolting you from your reverie.

Instinctively, your foot plunges onto the accelerator as you channel every ounce of skill, focus, and ambition into propelling yourself forward.

You swiftly navigate the corner, your car gliding through the air like a bird released from captivity, and in that moment of pure adrenaline, you find yourself eclipsing Max, reclaiming the lead with undeniable ferocity.

As you settle into your newfound position at first place, the tension morphs into an exhilarating electrification coursing through your body.

Max, having momentarily lost his grip on the lead, now battles to fend off Charles and Lando from making any hazardous moves that might threaten your dominion at the front.

In the heat of the moment, the radio blaring with strategic updates fades into the background as your vision narrows solely on the track ahead—you are a race car driver, a gladiator in this battle of speed, and nothing else matters.

The world dissolves into monochrome, your focus unwavering as you grip the wheel like it’s a lifeline.

Distant cheers from the crowd seep through your concentration, yet you silence those voices, drowning out distractions as you become acutely aware of the weight of the race, the dreams that hang delicately in the balance—everything is at stake.

You feel sweat trickling down your temple and a syrupy mix of anticipation and fear soaring through your chest, but as you approach the final laps, triumph struggles to emerge from the depths of your hardwork.

Amidst the exhilarating distractions, your attention sharpens when you catch a faint echo of Joseph’s voice cutting through the chatter. "Y/N! You did it! You won!"

The joyous eruption on the other end floods your senses with disbelief, a tidal wave of emotions crashing over you.

In that electrifying moment, as you maintain your grip on the wheel for the last few seconds, reality begins to wash over you like an exhilarating wave, and the tears you could feel brewing now threaten to spill, your triumph intertwining with your vulnerability.

With the checkered flag waving triumphantly in the air, you ease down on the accelerator, the sensation of victory swelling inside you as you let a muffled cry of delight escape your lips.

You slow your car and finally breathe, releasing all the pent-up energy, as the realization of your success resonates in every fiber of your being.

"You did it, Y/N! You won the grand prix!" Joseph's voice dances through the radio, resonating with an infectious glee.

A burst of laughter escapes your lips, and for the first time, the roar of the crowd—a melodic blend of cheers—warms your heart.

As you roll to a stop, the world around you crescendos into a celebration of your harrowing journey—each twist, each turn, each heartbeat racing in sync with the rhythm of victory.

The moment is surreal, and as you step out of the car, you are not just a racer anymore; you are a triumphant force that turned dreams into reality, and no title could encapsulate the pride swelling within you.

You parked the car in front of the first-place stand, your heart racing as the adrenaline coursed through your veins. Stepping out of the vehicle, you took a moment to absorb the victory that had just unfolded; it was surreal, almost like a scene plucked from your wildest dreams.

You stood on the hood of your car, exhilaration bubbling up inside you as you raised your fists in triumph, thrusting them into the air with a euphoric fist bump that echoed your unrestrained joy.

The cheers of the crowd swirled around you, a chorus of celebration, and for a heartbeat, the entire world felt like it paused in honour of your hard-fought achievement.

The weight of every early morning, every late night, every moment spent honing your driving in the shadows now seemed beautifully light, overshadowed by the sheer thrill of the moment.

As you jumped off the car with a renewed sense of vitality, you sprinted toward your team, their faces lit up with genuine happiness.

It marked a pivotal moment, one where they no longer treated you as fragile or merely a woman in a male-dominated sport; instead, they embraced you like a teammate, a winner.

You felt the warmth of their hugs wrapping around you, their joy infectious in a way that washed away any lingering doubts you had ever held about your place in this fierce and demanding environment.

“I can’t believe we did it!” you exclaimed, looking around at their beaming faces, heart swelling.

Some laughing tears glistening in their eyes, as they crowded around you, lifting you momentarily off your feet, celebrating not only your victory but the growth of a team bound together by perseverance and shared dreams.

Max eventually pulled up in front of the second-place station, his car’s engine rumbling to a soft stop just a few feet away from you. He stepped out, the sunlight catching the edges of his helmet as he removed it, revealing a look of pure delight plastered across his face.

It was a sight that brightened your heart; his genuine smile mirrored your own, a silent acknowledgment of the fierce competition that had just transpired on the track.

You could hardly control the emotions that swelled within you. With an impulsive rush, you charged toward him, unable to contain the joy of your victory.

In a flurry of excitement, you leaped into his arms, a spontaneous act born from the adrenaline still dancing through your body. He caught you effortlessly, his hands cradling your back protectively, and in that moment, the world shrank down to just the two of you.

“I won!" you declared, breathless, your voice a mixture of disbelief and sheer happiness, as if saying it out loud might make the victory feel more real.

A grin split Max's face wider, and you could see the pride sparkling in his eyes. “Yeah, you won! Congratulations!" he echoed, his voice turning melodic with the thrill of your accomplishment.

His embrace tightened around you, and you melted into the moment, filled with a sense of camaraderie and respect that had blossomed between you two over the course of your racing journeys.

As he set you back on your feet, laughter bubbled up once again, infectious and wildly free.

"I hope I didn't catch you off guard with that leap," you admitted, a hint of embarrassment creeping into your voice as you took a sip from your drink.

"Not at all! I’m just thrilled for you," Max replied, his cheeks flushed with excitement as he gave you a friendly pat on the back.

After the interview with the top three winners, you, Max, and Charles settled into the conference room, the atmosphere buzzing with excitement as the race replay flickered on the screen. The tension was palpable as the footage captured the thrilling moments of the competition.

"Wow! That was such a turn!" Charles exclaimed, wiping the sweat from his brow, clearly still feeling the adrenaline from the race.

He was referring to the intense maneuver where he nearly overtook Lando, a moment that had everyone on the edge of their seats.

As the race continued to unfold on the screen, you found yourself lost in thought, your mind racing with the events that had just transpired.

You focused on your breathing, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. You had actually won.

Max, sitting beside you, noticed your silence and turned his attention toward you, his eyes filled with concern.

"Hey, are you alright?" he asked softly, breaking the tension in the room. His voice was steady, a comforting presence amidst the chaos of the race replay.

You nodded slowly, appreciating Max's concern but still feeling the weight of the moment. "Yeah, just processing everything," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

After the conference wrapped up, the divers were given the freedom to either retreat to their driver’s rooms or celebrate with their teams and families.

However, the atmosphere was tinged with concern. The race winner was notably absent, and everyone had been eagerly anticipating a celebration for your first victory.

But after you dashed out of the conference room in a flurry, you seemed to vanish without a trace.

Everyone, especially Max, who had reached out to congratulate you repeatedly, was waiting, eager for you to join them in the festivities.

Max had noticed your absence almost immediately after the conference ended. The smile that had danced on his lips dimmed when you didn't join the team to celebrate; he frequently glanced toward the driver’s room, a sense of unease gnawing at his gut.

The more he thought about it, the more his concern deepened; it wasn't like you to shy away from such moments of triumph.

As teammates and family began to cheer and revel in the evening's wins, Max made the decision to search for you.

His quest took him to the paddock and then to your garage, but each passing minute only heightened his worries. "Where could you be, Y/N?" he murmured to himself, frustration lacing his voice as he traversed the familiar paths of the circuit, searching desperately for a glimpse of you.

His heart raced with anxiety; he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Finally, his gaze landed on the door of your driver's room, slightly ajar, like a whisper beckoning him to enter. Without a second thought, he approached and knocked gently, "Y/N, are you in there?"

Listening intently, he leaned closer to the door and was met with faint whimpers that sent a chill down his spine.

Panic surged through him.

This wasn’t just a moment of celebration for you; it felt like a cry for help, echoing through the cold corridor.

Without waiting for a response, he pushed the door open wider, bracing himself for whatever he might find—though nothing could have prepared him for the sight that met his eyes when the door creaked open.

The scene unfolded before him like a nightmare; your so-called boyfriend stood menacingly above you, his hand raised as if poised to strike, while your frail form displayed clear signs of distress—your face bruised, tears streaming down your cheeks, eyes wide with a mixture of fear and disbelief.

Time seemed to freeze for a moment as he took stock of the situation, the cruel contrast of celebration outside and the terrifying reality inside your room.

"What the hell is going on here?" Max's voice cut through the air, laced with fury as he stepped into the room, instinctively placing himself between you and the looming threat.

In that instant, your boyfriend's grip on your collar slackened, surprise washing over his features as he turned to face Max.

“Stay out of this, Max! This has nothing to do with you,” your boyfriend snarled, his bravado faltering under the sudden scrutiny.

But Max remained steadfast, stepping closer, his presence commanding as he glared at the man who had dared to raise a hand against you.

“You’re wrong. It has everything to do with me. Y/N is my friend, and I won’t let you hurt her,” he replied, his voice steady yet filled with palpable tension.

Your eyes met Max's, a flicker of hope igniting amidst despair, and despite everything, the warmth of that friendship washed over you.

Max's voice echoed through the room, a mix of frustration and urgency. "You need to leave now!" he shouted, his eyes locked onto your boyfriend, who stood there with clenched fists and a scowl that could cut glass.

The tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to slice through. Your boyfriend hesitated, his anger simmering just beneath the surface, but something in Max's tone made him reconsider.

"Fine," he finally muttered, his voice low and filled with resentment. "I’ll go, but this isn’t over."

With that, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him, leaving you and Max in a heavy silence.

“Max, please…” you managed to choke out, your voice hoarse as the fear and pain slowly ebbed. “I just…I just wanted to celebrate, but I didn’t know who I could trust. I thought…”

Your voice faltered as the tears resumed their steady flow. Max's gaze softened as he turned back to you, the protective barrier he had formed in front of you embodying more than just physical defense.

“You can trust me, Y/N,” he said firmly, his expression shifting to one of concern.

With Max's unwavering support behind you, the resolve within you began to build.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice trembling, but a hint of strength colored your tone.

[incognit0slut]

Crawling back to you

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Simmons!Reader Summary: You never planned on having a casual fling with your brother's friend five years ago, nor did you expect him to fall in love with you, which forced you to end things abruptly. But now he's unexpectedly back in your life—older, wiser, and fully intent on winning your heart. Content: (18+) >12k words, reader has commitment issues, he’s the softest softdom i’ve ever written, female oral, fingering, unprotected p in v, a little squirting? teeth rotting fluff and a chaotic ending because who am i without my crack humor A/n: This is for @imagining-in-the-margins FWB writing challenge and somewhat a celebration post for 7k milestone. Idk how that happened but tysm :( I hope you like this as much as I did writing it because matt simmons is so underrated??? I’m also freaking nervous with this i haven’t posted a new fic in a while so please please please be nice i feel like throwing up

Surprise has a way of stopping time. Although you're not sure you can call it that. What you’re experiencing is more than just surprise, it’s the kind of feeling that makes you freeze in place. It’s not just a jolt to the system—it’s a full-body takeover. Your breath catches, your heart skips, and your thoughts scatter like leaves caught in the wind. How could they not, when the last person you expected to see is standing right in front of you, clad in the most questionable clothes?

You almost laugh at how absurd he looks. He’s wearing an oversized hoodie with a tacky “Washington D.C.” print sprawled across the front. It’s baffling why he’s draped in that shapeless thing over his freakishly tall frame, but it’s too hard to focus on something so trivial when you’re still grasping with the reality of seeing him again. You really can’t believe it. Spencer Reid is here. The Spencer Reid.

The guy whose heart you broke five years ago.

You should have seen this coming. In fact, you kind of did, when your brother’s friends came rushing into the hospital room, their voices a chorus of “oohs” and “aahs” as they crowded around the newborn cradled in Kristy’s arms. You exchanged polite greetings when they noticed you—Penelope even pulled you into a tight hug, gushing about how amazing you looked—and thankfully, there was no sign of him.

But you’d almost allowed yourself to believe he wouldn’t show up. When the small space became overly crowded, you stepped out into the waiting room to catch your breath… only to find him standing a few feet away with JJ.

And just like that, all the air seems to vanish from your lungs.

You had a plan, of course. In the back of your mind, you always knew a chance meeting was inevitable, whether you liked it or not. And that plan was simple. You’d offer him a polite smile. Exchange a few words, nothing too personal. You’d be friendly but distant, always make sure to keep the kind of composure that says you’ve moved on, and that the past is just that: the past.

But those well-laid plans seem fragile now, almost naive as you suddenly caught his smile. Now how do you stick to a script when your heart is starting to rewrite all the lines? Or blur the lines specifically, when the past and present merge so seamlessly that you’re reminded of the first time that same smile had charmed you.

You’re suddenly thrown back to that day five years ago, when your brother had thrown a barbecue cookout to celebrate some joint investigation his team had wrapped up. You didn’t know the details—didn’t really care to, if you were honest—but Matt had called you and insisted that you join him.

You hadn't thought much of it at the time. It sounded like another family gathering with a few new faces. But that was the day you met Spencer, and what began as a simple introduction quickly spiraled into something much more complicated. Really complicated. Because as charmed as you were by his smile, he had wanted something more from you when all you could offer him was your body.

So you ran away.

Although not very far, because apparently, he’s standing a few steps away from you, five years later. And the worst part? He’s now very much aware that you’re here. You watch as his jaw slacks open as he takes a double-take. You’re rooted in place. JJ, on the other hand, tugs his sleeve as she notices his demeanor slowly shutting down. She turns around to see what’s caught his attention, and when she spots you, a huge smile spreads across her face.

"Hey! You're here!” You force yourself to look away from him as she moves forward. You reciprocate the hug she throws at you. "How are you?”

You’re not entirely sure how to answer. How do you even explain that your heart just did a triple backflip and landed somewhere near your stomach? Or that you’re seconds away from having an internal existential crisis because, of course, the universe would choose this moment to throw Spencer Reid back into your life?

There's really no good way to sum that up. So instead, you plaster on a smile that probably looks more like a grimace and reply, "Good. I’m good.”

JJ doesn’t seem to notice the strained edges in your voice. “It’s so nice to see you again! How long has it been?”

There’s a moment of silence as you try to gather your thoughts. But before you can respond, Spencer’s voice suddenly cuts through the quiet. It’s soft, almost hesitant, as if he’s been holding onto this detail for far too long, but every syllable rings in your ears.

"Five years," he says. "Five years, three months, and seventeen days."

Your stomach does another flip. JJ raises her brows, her eyes darting between you and him. You carefully meet her gaze. "Actually, you and I met up last year.”

“Oh, right!” She exclaims, her face lighting up as the memory clicks into place. “You were in town for a conference, right? I totally forgot about that.”

“You were in town last year and you didn’t tell me?”

God, he’s making it terribly hard for you to keep your composure. You throw him a sidelong glance. “I didn’t know you wanted to see me.”

His expression shifts slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. He looks at you as if your words sounds ludicrous to him.

“I always want to see you.”

You can't decide what surprises you more, the fact that he still wants to see you after all these years, or how easily he says it. The words roll off his tongue so casually, so effortlessly, as if the weight of your shared past doesn’t cling to them. And to make matters worse, he's saying this right in front of JJ, who is now staring at him, clearly scrutinizing the significance behind his words.

You quickly shift your attention to her, forcing another smile. "So, are you going to head inside?"

JJ blinks at you. “Oh, yeah, I probably should.” She turns to Spencer and gives him a quick but knowing glance. "See you on Monday, Spence."

You glance at him. “You're not going to see the baby?"

"Spencer’s got something he needs to take care of,” JJ chimes in. There’s a slight edge to her voice, like she knows exactly what that ‘something’ is, but she doesn’t elaborate. She gives him one last look before heading inside.

You catch yourself looking up at him again. “You’re leaving?”

Spencer pauses, studying you carefully, his brow furrowing just slightly like he’s trying to read between the lines of your question.

“I was,” he says softly.

There’s a sudden tightness in your chest. “Right.”

“But now I don’t want to.”

There it goes again, the butterflies in your stomach. This is exactly why you didn’t want to see him. You knew that once you looked into his eyes, heard his voice, it would stir up everything you’ve spent five years trying to bury. You’d told yourself it was better to pretend that whatever happened between you was nothing more than a stupid choice. But now, standing here with him so close, you can feel all those walls you built crumbling down with just a few words.

You finally look at him, like really look at him. It’s impossible not to notice how he’s changed over the past five years. There are faint lines around his eyes now, signs of age that wasn't there before. His hair is longer, a little messier. It curls around his ears in a way that makes him look almost boyish, yet undeniably charming which suits him more than you'd like to admit.

But even with all the changes, his smile—gentle and just a little shy—remains the same. That smile reminds you of a time when things were simpler, where it was enough to convince you that you didn't have to keep your guard up all the time. But then you remember the reason you walked away, and his smile becomes a little harder to look at.

Because while he's changed, grown, matured, so have you, and you're not sure if there's room for the person you are now in the space that once belonged to both of you.

His eyes scan you in the same way you’re assessing him. “You look good.”

Your mouth twitches at his words. You didn’t expect him to be so straightforward. “Thank you.”

“You’re even prettier than I remember.”

The sigh you let out is long and weary. He really knows how to push your buttons.

“Spencer. Don’t.”

“What?”

“You can’t just say things like that after—” You hesitate, crossing your arms. "After everything. What happened to 'Hi, how are you?’. Or maybe something simple like ‘What have you been up to? Anything new?’”

He blinks, clearly taken aback by your abruptness. “Okay. Hi, how are you?”

You cast him a wary glance. “Good.”

"What have you been up to?"

"Work."

"Anything new?"

"No."

He pauses again, his eyes searching yours before he asks, "No new boyfriend?"

You frown. “Huh?”

“Girlfriend?”

"Spencer."

"Are you seeing anyone?"

"Spencer."

He smiles sheepishly, his shoulders sagging slightly. "You're right, that was inappropriate. I didn't think I would see you again, it’s throwing me off a bit."

“You didn’t think I would be here for my newborn niece?”

His smile turns into a grimace. "I guess I wasn't thinking clearly." He shifts on his feet, fidgeting with his fingers—a small, familiar tic that you hadn’t seen in years. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things weird.”

“It’s fine,” you reply, though there’s no real bite to your words. His nervous energy is making it hard to stay annoyed. Your eyes narrow on his oversized hoodie again, the casual, almost careless choice that seems slightly out of character for the Spencer you remember.

He seems to notice you staring so blatantly. “What?”

“You look funny.”

A hint of surprise flashes across his face. “You think I’m funny?”

“Different,” you correct. “Did you raid someone’s closet on your way here or something?”

"Oh… I had to change my clothes. I got wet at the park earlier.”

You glance towards the window with a frown. "It's not even raining."

"I ran through the sprinklers."

The cease on your forehead deepens. Even that sounds so unlike him. Spencer Reid doing something that carefree in public?

“You ran through the sprinklers? Alone?"

You notice his expression shift as the question leaves your lips, something very subtle, but you’ve known him long enough to catch it. The way his eyes flicker, the slight hesitation before he answers, makes it obvious. There’s a hint of something unspoken in the way he looks at you, and suddenly, it all clicks into place.

He wasn’t alone.

You look away. It's ridiculous, you think. To feel this somewhat… jealous when it should be the last thing on your mind because, really, what right do you have? What you had with him wasn’t even a relationship to begin with. But despite all the logic in the world, you can’t help the pang in your chest, the twist of something bitter and familiar curling in your gut.

"It's not what you think," he slowly says.

You force a small, awkward laugh, trying to brush it off. "I wasn’t assuming anything. It’s none of my business, anyway."

"No, really, it's nothing like that." he insists, scrunching his nose in the way he does when he's trying to think. "I mean, I did meet someone at the park, but it’s not like… what you might be thinking. We were just talking, and… and then there were these sprinklers and it wasn’t really planned or anything, then she—well, technically, we weren’t even alone the whole time because there were other people around, and it’s not like we—”

“Spencer, you don’t have to explain—” you begin, but then something dawns on you. “Wait, is this what JJ was referring to? Did you… Did you have plans?”

You notice his Adam’s apple dip as he swallows. "Kind of," he admits. “But it wasn't anything serious. It was just, you know, a casual thing.”

You can't help the way your stomach knots. Casual could mean anything. Maybe a simple coffee between two friends, or even a lighthearted conversation over lunch. But in your experience, at least in the book you and Spencer had written together in the past, casual had always meant sex. And now, hearing him say it about someone else feels like a punch to the gut you hadn't expected.

You suddenly feel foolish for letting your mind go there, for assuming that whatever he meant by casual was the same thing it had meant for the two of you back then. It's been five years, and so much has changed. Maybe casual means something entirely different for him now, and you're the one stuck in the past, reading into things that no longer hold the same weight.

He must have noticed the slight falter in your expression, the way your eyes momentarily cloud over with something you can’t quite hide. He takes a step forward. "It’s really nothing.”

You take a step back. “Even if it is, it’s really not my business.”

“But it’s not,” he urges. He’s suddenly so persistent, and you can’t help but feel the embarrassment gnawing you at how easily he can read your mind. It's one thing to wrestle with these feelings privately, but having them so clearly acknowledged makes it all the more humiliating. You can’t believe you let yourself get so worked up over something that shouldn’t matter this much.

You eye the exit door. “I need to go.”

"Right now?” His brows knit together in confusion. “But your family’s here."

You’ve only spent a few minutes with him and you’re already running away.

"I just remembered I have to take care of… something."

The excuse sounds weak even to your own ears, but you don’t wait for his response. You quickly turn on your heel, and when he calls out your name with concern, you force yourself to keep moving, scurrying off down the hallway.

Me: I'm heading back first Big bro: You okay? Me: Bad headache Big Bro: You didn't eat anything, did you?

You scoff. What is it about your brother always zeroing in on eating whenever you complain about feeling off?

Me: You know I did. Just not much Big Bro: That’s what I thought. There’s some leftover dinner in the fridge. And check the second drawer in the kitchen, there should be some ibuprofen Me: Yes, Dad Big Bro: Don’t get smart with me Me: 🫡 Big Bro: Drink lots of water Me: Yes, sir. Anything else on your mind while you’re giving out parental advice? Big Bro: I’m just trying to keep myself from dragging you out of my house if you collapse Me: 🙄 Big Bro: The kids are staying with Kristy’s parents, I’ll drop by tomorrow morning Me: Okay Big Bro: Call me if you need anything

You toss your phone down on the bed, then let out the most exasperated sigh. Spending your Saturday night in your brother’s guest room is the last thing you expect to be doing, let alone faking a headache just to avoid confronting a situationship from the past. You honestly thought you’d outgrown this kind of avoidance, but here you are, slipping back into old habits as if no time has passed at all.

Ironically, your mind stumbles into the past, and you remember a conversation you once had with Spencer. It was during one of those nights when you both were tangled in each other’s arms. You could faintly remember the conversation started with him talking about his work.

He never actually told you the details of his cases, but he liked to share his thoughts on the different complexities of the human mind. And on that particular night, he was rambling about the psychological concept of avoidance, which he claimed to have detected the first time he spotted the bad guy. He went on at how people often retreat into familiar behaviors to protect themselves from discomfort.

At the time, you had brushed it off with a joke, teasing him about overanalyzing everything when the situation had already played out. But now the irony isn’t lost on you. You’re doing exactly what he once explained. It’s almost laughable if it didn’t sting so much to realize how right he was.

A sharp ding from your phone pulls you out of your thoughts, and one glance at it tells you exactly who’s messaging. The name on the screen makes your chest tighten, but you don’t even give yourself a moment to consider responding. You quickly turn the phone to silent, push yourself off the bed, and head straight for the kitchen. True to your brother’s words, there’s leftover pizza in the fridge, but the idea of reheating it doesn’t seem appealing to you.

You reach for the bottle of wine instead.

The red liquor tastes like butter, or something close to it. It’s similar in the way the liquid melts over your tongue, spreading warmth through your chest and settling comfortably in your belly. By the time you're sipping the second glass, you feel more relaxed, but then the sharp sound of the doorbell ringing cuts through the calm.

You glance at the door from the position of the couch. You have a strong feeling about who it is. But as much as you're sure of the who, what really gnaws at you is the why.

You hesitantly make your way toward the door, and sure enough, when you pull it open, Spencer is standing at your brother’s doorstep. The corner of his lips turns upward in an awkward, almost apologetic half-smile as if he’s unsure of how to begin or whether he should even be there in the first place.

You lean against the doorframe. “Did Matt tell you I was here?”

He gives you a pointed look, his eyebrows raising slightly. “No, but it wasn’t hard to figure out.” You throw him the same questioning look, and he explains, “This is the only place you’d stay in town because not only do you hate staying alone at a hotel, but Matt wouldn’t let you even if you tried.”

You can’t believe he still remembers your offhand comment about sterile hotel rooms. It’s one of the reasons you used to prefer staying at his apartment whenever you were in town.

“Why are you here anyway?” You ask. “I thought you had plans.”

He pauses for moment as if deciding how much to say. Finally, he clears his throat. “Can I come in? I’d rather explain it inside.”

"I don't think you owe me any explanations about what you do with your time," you reply, crossing your arms.

"Maybe I don't owe it, but I want to give it.”

“Which isn’t necessary.”

“But appreciated, I hope.”

You find yourself caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. You tell yourself not to read too much into it, but there's a part of you that can't help but soften at his words. Maybe it's the way his eyes reminds you of melted chocolate as he stares at you that makes you want to let him in, despite your better judgment.

You pull the door open. “Fine, but take your shoes off. Kristy’s very serious about hygiene.”

He does as he’s told and tucks away his shoes on the rack by the door.

“Do you want anything to drink?”

He shakes his head slightly, offering a small smile. "I'm good, thanks."

You nod and gesture toward the living room. He follows you, and as you both approach the couch, he instinctively moves to the far end, settling down cautiously as if not wanting to invade your space. You take a seat on the opposite end.

“So, what do you want to talk about?”

He leans back slightly, resting his hands on his knees. You can tell he's trying to gauge your mood, figure out how much to push and when to hold back. "Do you remember when we went on that date at the street fair?"

You frown, remembering how you had missed your bus home in one of your trips here and ended up wandering at the fair with him. “That wasn’t a date.”

"Fine. Do you remember when we went to the street fair together not on a date?"

“I remember."

His shoulders relax a bit at your response. “You spent ages deciding what to eat and you ended up choosing that little Korean stall in the corner. We had to walk a bit further to get there even when your shoes were hurting you.”

You think back, internally scolding yourself for wearing those damn boots that day. “You thought I was being ridiculous.”

"I didn't think it was ridiculous. I just didn't get it at first. Your feet were practically covered in blisters."

"I really wanted kimchi."

"I could tell, and it took me a while to understand why you went through all that trouble. Now I do.”

You glance at him, sensing there's more behind his words. “Why are you bringing this up?"

He meets your gaze. His brown eyes looking a little more golden underneath the dim light. "I guess this is me choosing.”

“That you’re craving for Korean?”

He gives a soft, genuine laugh, the kind that starts in his chest and reaches his eyes, making them crinkle at the corners. “Not exactly,” he says and leans a little closer. “What I’m trying to say is, that’s how I feel right now. I'm here because I want to be, not because it's convenient, but because it’s you.”

There’s a subtle flutter in your chest, and your skin prickles with a familiar warmth as he speaks. Your heart beats a little faster, not enough to be alarming, but just enough to remind you that you’re not as unaffected as you pretend to be. You can feel your palms start to sweat, and there’s that almost imperceptible hitch in your breathing that you hope he doesn’t notice.

“Spencer…” You don’t even know how to start. “It’s been five years."

He nods slowly. “I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do. A lot of has changed since the last time we saw each another, and you’re here acting like we both separated on good terms? Don't you hate me?”

His brow furrows slightly. “Why would I hate you?”

“Because I broke your heart. I—" Your voice falters as you struggle to find the right words. "The moment you told me you were falling in love with me, I... I ran. I couldn’t handle it. I pushed you away like a coward.”

“You weren't a coward, you were scared. And maybe I didn’t understand that back then, but I do now.”

You shake your head. “But I hurt you.”

The sigh he lets out is heavy, yet there's something deceptively calm about it, almost as if he’s already made peace with the past. “You did what you thought you had to do, and sure, it hurt. But I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and I realized that I don’t blame you for needing space. It wasn’t about me not being enough, it was about you needing to protect yourself.”

His words start to chip away at the wall you’ve built around your heart. “I thought you’d hate me,” you admit quietly.

“I could never hate you."

You lower your gaze, your fingers fiddling nervously with the edge of the cushion. “Alright, let’s say you choose me. Now what? What is it that you want?”

He pauses for a moment, his fingers curled into his palms. He looks away briefly, taking a deep breath as if gathering his thoughts, then returns his gaze to you. “I want another chance.”

If you were surprised to see him at the hospital earlier, this is something entirely different. There’s something akin to panic fluttering in your chest. It’s amusing, really, how the human body reacts before the mind fully comprehends as if your heart knows what’s coming before you do. You can feel it in the way your breath catches, in the way your stomach knots with a nervous energy you can’t quite shake. Because how do you even react to that?

You finally turn to face him, leaning your head against the back of the couch. This moment feels like some sort of déjà vu, and just like the last time, your mind is already bracing itself, preparing to give him the same answer you did back then.

“You know it’s never going to work.”

He mirrors you, but instead of the frustration or sadness you half-expected, there’s a gentle smile on his lips. “You sound so sure.”

“That’s because I am,” you reply. “I know what you’re asking for right now, and we don’t function like that. Not in the past, at least.”

“How did we function?”

“Based on sex.”

“And what do you think I’m asking for now?”

“More than sex, which isn’t going to work."

“Why not?”

“Because—” you start, but the words catch in your throat. You’re not even sure how to explain. The fears, the doubts, the past... all of it feels too big, too overwhelming to articulate in a way that makes sense.

“Because the idea still terrifies you?”

You frown, caught off guard by the directness of his question. “No.”

The smile stretches even more across his face. “Then give me one good reason why you think so.”

"Oh I can name a few."

He studies you, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he’s trying to read every thought racing through your mind. “Let’s make a deal then. You give me those reasons why we can’t work, and I’ll give you reasons why we can.”

You’re quiet for a moment, considering his offer. It’s bold, almost reckless, and yet... there’s something in his eyes that makes you want to accept the challenge.

"And if your reasons aren’t good enough?"

“Then we’ll deal with that when we come to it,” he replies softly. “But I’m willing to bet we won’t have to.”

"You really think you can convince me?"

"I can try." He leans a little closer, just enough for you to feel the warmth radiating from his body. "So, what’s your first reason?"

That’s too easy, too obvious. “You’re one of my brother’s closest friends,” you point out. “What happens if this doesn’t work out? I don’t want to put him, or us, in that position.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “That didn’t stop us in the past.”

You scoff. “Spencer, we were sneaking around behind his back. It’s not exactly the same thing. This… whatever this is, it would be out in the open, and that’s a whole different level of complicated.”

“It would be different, yes. But that doesn’t mean it has to be a problem. If anything, it shows how serious we were then, and how serious we could be now.” You scrunch your nose at his response. “Now what’s next on your list?”

"Uhh.. the distance! You’re in D.C., and I’m not. It’s not like I can just drop everything and move closer.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re a three-hour drive away, maybe two if I take the expressway. And honestly, with how much we both travel for work, I don’t see how that’s an issue.”

His reasoning is so undeniably logical you feel a flicker of annoyance, not at him, but at how easily he’s dismantling your arguments.

“You didn’t even want to visit me back then.”

"You were the one who didn't want me to. You kept saying it was easier for you to come here.”

His words hit harder than you expect. You remember all the times you insisted on making the trips yourself. You'd convinced yourself it was about convenience, but with him calling you out on it, you realize it wasn't about convenience at all. It was about keeping things on your terms, maintaining a safe distance even when that distance wasn't physical.

"Well, I had more flexible hours," you claim. The excuse is flimsy, and the way Spencer looks at you—patient, but not fooled—makes it clear that he sees right through it.

You try to think of your next reason, although the words seem to get stuck before they even form. You know you can easily rattle off more excuses, but something about the way he’s looking at you makes it harder than it should be.

“That’s it? You’ve only thought of two? I was expecting a bit more of a challenge.”

You scowl at him. "I didn’t say I was done."

"Take your time," he comments, leaning back slightly, still wearing that infuriatingly patient smile.

You huff softly, trying to regain your footing. "Okay, how about this? Sex."

There's a beat of silence. "What about sex?"

You feel the words forming, but they sound ridiculous even in your own mind. Still, you force them out of your mouth. Your subconscious is urging you to come up with more excuses to keep him at arm’s length. "That was all that we had. What if… what if we just fall back into the same patterns?"

“Don't you think that's a reason why we can work? If we were only ever about sex and we're still here, doesn't that show there's something more between us?"

“Or it just means we had a strong physical connection. That doesn’t necessarily mean there’s something more.”

“You really believe that? That all we had was just physical?”

“Yes,” you retort, though the confidence in your voice wavers slightly. Your eyes flicker away for a split second before you meet his gaze again. “That’s all it ever was and I don’t know if it can turn into something you’re trying to imply.”

He lets out a low, amused sound, as the corners of his mouth twitches upward. “You’re deflecting.”

“I’m being realistic,” you shoot back. “What if we try, and it doesn’t work? What if everything falls apart because we weren’t good at anything but the sex?”

His eyes light up, and suddenly he’s wearing the most boyish grin you’ve ever seen on him. “So you're admitting the sex was good?"

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“You know what I mean. What we had was...” Wild? Passionate? Crazy-hot-mind-blowing sex? “…intense. But intensity isn't enough for a relationship. What if the rest of it doesn't hold up?"

He leans in closer, his hand hovering near yours on the couch.

“But what if it does?”

All you can do is stare at him.

“You’re giving me all these reasons to push me away again,” he continues. “But I’m here because I’m not afraid of those doubts. I’ve always wanted to give you more than what we had because you deserve something real. I want us to be real this time, and I think you do too, even if you’re scared to admit it.”

His words are affecting you more than you like to admit. You can slowly feel it in the tension building between you, it’s surprisingly not the uncomfortable kind, but the sort that pulls you in, that makes you want to move closer even though every instinct tells you to stay put.

And then it happens. You feel a slight tremor in your leg, an involuntary movement that causes it to brush against his. The contact is so light it's almost like it didn't happen at all, but it did. He notices—Of course he does—and now there’s a certain gentleness in his gaze like he knows exactly what's going on inside your head. He doesn't push, doesn't rush, just watches you with those impossibly kind eyes.

And in the softest, most careful voice, he asks, “Can I move closer?"

Your heart is pounding now, the rhythm echoing in your ears, in your chest, in the pulse at your throat. The sensation travels downward, a slow, steady beat that moves through your body, inching its way down your spine, tightening in your stomach before it settles low in your abdomen. It’s a heat that spreads outward until it reaches your core, leaving you acutely aware of every inch of space between you and him—and how much you want to close that distance.

You find yourself nodding. He shifts closer. “Can I touch you?”

You really want to say something witty, something that might deflect from the weight of the situation, but the words won’t come out. You can only manage another nod. He moves slowly, carefully, giving you every opportunity to pull back. But you don’t. You can’t. You’re rooted in place as his hand reaches for you.

His palm gently rests on your jaw. Your eyes flutter closed against your consciousness, and the tension that’s been coiling in your chest slowly unwinds, replaced by a sense of calm. When his thumb slides across your cheek, he speaks again. His voice is so close it's as if the words themselves are brushing over your lips.

"Can I kiss you?"

You inhale sharply. The word "Yes" hovers on the tip of your tongue, but you don't need to say it out loud. He can already see the answer in the way you’re leaning into him, and his mouth is on yours in an instant.

The reality is, you’ve kissed Spencer before. Plenty of times, actually. You know the feel of his lips, the way they can be both gentle and demanding, the way he tastes faintly of coffee or something sweet when he’s had a treat. You also think back to those hurried kisses in the past when time was short and the world was pressing down on you. Or the playful pecks that came with laughter. Even the desperate, heated moments when the need to feel something, anything, was too overwhelming to resist.

This kiss, however, isn’t like any of those. This one is slow, and achingly tender. His movements are unhurried. The way his lips glide over yours carries a deep sense of care, like he’s trying to memorize every soft curve. Just as you begin to melt in his arms, he pulls away slightly, not very far, but enough to hover close that you can still feel the heat of his breath on your lips.

There’s a tense silence as the tip of his nose brushes gently against your cheek. You can tell he’s giving you the space to decide what happens next, and there are a lot of scenarios running in your head. You could push him away, repeating history all over again. You could be in denial and pretend all of this never even happened. But something inside you snaps.

Maybe it’s the way he’s holding back, so gentle, so careful, too afraid of pushing too far. Or maybe it’s the realization that you don’t want him to hold back, that you need more, that you’re tired of resisting what you’ve both been dancing around for so long. Before you can second guess yourself, you’re clutching onto the fabric of his hoodie, tugging him closer.

He tenses for a moment, but the hesitation is gone almost as soon as it appears. His mouth finds yours again, and he lets out a deep, relieved sigh. You feel the soft, insistent push of his tongue against the seam of your lips. You hold onto him, parting your mouth eagerly before he slips his tongue with a desperation that catches you off guard.

Then his hands seem to be everywhere all at once, tracing the curve of your spine, sliding down to the small of your back, and brushing along the edge of your jaw. His fingers then tangle in your hair, tugging gently while his other hand skims over your waist. But when his hand slips inside your shirt, calloused fingers brushing your soft skin, you slowly pull away. “W-Wait.”

His eyes widen slightly, and you can feel the shift in his body. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no,” you say quickly, tugging him closer again. “I just… I think we should continue this conversation somewhere more… private?”

He pauses for a moment. “Really?”

“If you want to.”

A subtle smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Are you trying to seduce me for sex?”

You’re oscillating between being incredibly turned on and equally mortified. In a sense, yes, that’s what you’re asking. But you didn’t expect him to be so blunt about it. You don’t think he’s ever been this direct in the past, and now you’re wondering if you missed something before, or if he’s just tapped into a level of confidence you’re struggling to keep up with.

“Would it be inappropriate if I said that I am?” you ask hesitantly, and you can’t help but wince a little as the words leave your mouth.

“Since when have you been worried about being inappropriate with me?”

“Well, Spencer, if you haven’t noticed, there’s a five-year gap since the last time we slept together.”

His hand on your waist tightens slightly. “Five years too long, if you ask me.” Then he pulls you closer until there’s barely any space left between you. “You do realize this is you giving me a second chance, right?"

In a way, you do. You've spent so much time convincing yourself that you were better off keeping your distance. Walking away in the past was easy, but now… now it feels different. The years have stretched on, and the excuses you’ve made have started to wear thin. Especially when just being near him is starting to stir memories you thought you’d buried—some good, some less so—but all intense, all Spencer.

Maybe he's right. Maybe five years is too long to pretend that whatever was between you didn't matter.

You slowly meet his gaze. “I realize.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

You hesitate, not out of doubt, but because of the sheer gravity of what you're about to say.

"Maybe."

His sigh is audible when he hears your answer, and without missing a beat, he brushes the barest, lightest, most gentle of kisses on your lips. “Maybe is good.” Kiss. “I can take—” Kiss. Kiss. “—maybe.”

You think you should say something more, but all coherent thoughts scatter the instant his lips meet yours again. You return his kisses, hesitant at first, but quickly falling into a rhythm that feels achingly familiar. It doesn’t take long until his lips move into something more urgent. There’s a hunger there, a pent-up longing that he can no longer hold back. His tongue flicks against yours, teasing, coaxing, and you know you need to stop him before he starts to undress you right there on the couch.

You reluctantly pull back. “Bedroom. Now.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He pulls you to your feet, and you’re practically dragging him to the guest bedroom. When the door closes behind you, he’s quick to guide you toward the bed, his hands firm on your hips as he steers you backward. The moment your legs hit the edge of the bed, he pauses, his hands lingering on your waist, and for a moment, he just looks at you.

“Having second thoughts?” You tease. The sarcasm drips sweetly in your voice, knowing full well he’s been trying to win your heart the entire evening.

“No,” he mutters. “I’m trying to see if you are.”

You draw back from his arms just enough to climb onto the bed and lay down in the middle. “Does it look like I am?”

He shakes his head with that cute, bashful smile. Although there’s nothing bashful about the way he pulls off his hoodie and tosses it carelessly onto the floor. The shirt underneath is crumpled, and his hair is even messier, sticking up in ways that make you want to run your hands through it.

“Come here,” you motion for him. Without hesitation, he crawls between your legs and leans in for another kiss. His hair feels like the smoothest silk when you finally reach for it. There’s a slight dampness from the faint sheen of sweat on his skin, the way it curls just slightly at the ends, brushing against your forehead as he dips his head to capture your mouth.

You don’t think you can ever get tired of kissing him. There’s a familiarity in the way he moves. His lips mold perfectly to yours, soft yet demanding, as if he knows exactly how to draw out the deepest parts of your desire. And you feel it everywhere. In your pulse, in your veins, all the way down to the spot between your legs.

It intensifies even more when his lips begin to trail down your neck. You feel the first warm rush of arousal pooling in your panties when he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your throat, the fluttering veins below your jaw with so much intensity as if he's taking every one of your heartbeats for himself. Your grip tightens in his hair as he marks another spot near your collarbone.

“I’ve missed this so much,” he murmurs as he slowly nips down your neck. “I’ve missed you.”

You can only hum a reply, your voice catching in your throat as your head starts to spin from the way his hands are now trailing down your side. He reaches the hem of your shirt and pauses, fingers lightly tugging at the fabric.

“Can I take this off?” He asks, pulling back slightly just enough to look down at you. With his messy hair falling into his glossy brown eyes and swollen wet lips, how can you possibly say no to him?

Without a second thought, you nod, your fingers already moving to help him with the fabric. His eyes never leave yours as he slowly lifts your shirt. It slides up over your skin, and you raise your arms to let him pull it off completely, tossing it aside without a care. Your bra comes off next, and when that follows to the floor, his eyes sweep over your body.

There’s a certain look in his gaze. Devotion would be too strong of a word, but it’s something close—something softer, yet just as intense. You’ve seen desire before, felt it in fleeting touches and heated glances, but this is different. This feels different. It’s as if his gaze is reaching into the spaces between your thoughts, gently pulling at the threads that hold you together to unravel you in the most tender of ways.

He kisses the spot between your breasts.

“You’re always so pretty.”

He gives a soft peck just above your heart.

“So incredibly beautiful.”

Then his tongue flicks along the delicate curve of your chest, making a slow, teasing trail upward until he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. He sucks gently, rolling it around with his tongue, and you’re mesmerized by the lewd scene of him drawing your flesh between his lips. Your fingers instinctively find their way back into his hair, tugging on the soft strands as he continues to lap at your sensitive skin.

He then shifts slightly, his mouth releasing your nipple with a soft, wet sound before moving to give the same attention to the other. While he suckles and nibbles on one hardened peak, he rolls the other between his thumb and forefinger, sending a rush of pleasure straight to your core. If you thought you were wet before, you’re certain you’re drenched by now. Your panties cling uncomfortably and the growing desire makes you ache to peel them off.

He must sense your growing need because his kisses trail lower, down to your stomach, while his fingers toy with the waistband of your leggings. His touch is teasing, slipping just under the elastic, and you instinctively lift your hips, silently begging for more. He takes his time as he slides the fabric down your legs, his knuckles brushing against your skin before discarding them somewhere in the room.

Your attention is on him as his palm dances along your inner thigh, and the closer he gets to where you ache him the most, the more your breath hitches in your throat. When his thumb brushes over the wet patch on your panties, your hips buck against him. “Spencer…”

He glances over at you and lets out the most appreciative sigh. You really are beautiful. Eyes full of lust, skin flushed with his marks. You’re a vision of longing, and every part of him is consumed by the sight of you. “Yes?”

You squirm under his gaze. “Aren’t you… going to take them off?”

A slow, teasing smile spreads across his face. “What, these?” He gives a playful tug at the edge of your panties, his fingers just barely slipping beneath the fabric before pulling away. “Are you sure you want them off?”

You try to hold back your groan when his thumb finds your clit. “Yes. I-I’m sure.”

He grins, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you, but instead of giving in immediately, he begins to circle your clit slowly with his thumb, watching your reaction closely. “On a scale from one to ten, how sure are you?”

Now he’s starting to get on your nerves. You can’t hold back the small huff falling from your lips. He simply laughs then slowly takes off the last piece of your clothing. The cool air instantly hits your skin as he grabs your knees, spreading your legs apart. He skims along your naked body and when you notice where his gaze settles, you swallow hard, suddenly feeling very shy.

It's kind of ironic, you think, how you've gotten this far, and now, of all times, you're suddenly blushing like a damn teenager. It's as if your brain is catching up to everything your body already knows—that this is real, and it's happening. You can't help but laugh at yourself a little. Here you are, all tangled up in each other, practically begging him to get you naked and yet you're acting shy now?

He seems to notice the shift in your mood, his hands pausing on your thighs as he looks up at you with concern. He tilts his head slightly, his brow furrowing. “Did I do something wrong?”

You quickly shake your head. “I’m suddenly feeling very self-conscious.”

He studies your face for a moment. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” you blurt out, more forcefully than you intended, your hand instinctively reaching out to grab his wrist. “I… I guess I’m not used to feeling this exposed in front of you.”

He shifts slightly, moving closer so he’s eye-level with you, his hands still resting gently on your thighs. “We’ve done this countless times before.”

“I know, but that was years ago. Things feel different now… like there’s more at stake, maybe?” You let out a sigh. “It’s silly.”

“It’s not silly,” he reassures you. He soothes the skin behind your thighs. “But you don’t need to feel self-conscious with me. You’re beautiful, and I just want you to feel as good as you make me feel.”

If he keeps talking to you like that, there’s no doubt you’ll end up giving him your heart on a silver platter by the end of this. He shifts lower down your body. “We can go as slow as you want,” he continues, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh, then another. “Just tell me what you need.”

You take a deep breath as his soft stubble grazes your skin. “I need you.”

“Then you’ll have me.”

You watch with heavy lids as he drags his lips along your skin until he presses the most tender kiss on your cunt. He really wasn’t lying when he said he could go as slow as you want because every kiss is achingly gentle, barely more than a feather-light touch. It’s the kind of softness that makes you writhe beneath him, and before you know it, your fingers are tangling in his curls while your hips buck against his face.

There’s a slight vibration on your skin—it could be his laughter, or maybe just a hum of contentment—but you don’t bother deciphering it. You’re too lost in the sensation as his tongue breaches your folds. You peer down and watch as he trails the tip of his tongue through your wetness, slowly tracing up and down your slit until he flicks it against your clit.

You’re honestly gone after that. You’re not surprised, though. If there’s one thing Spencer Reid is good at, it’s knowing exactly how to use his mouth. Sure, he’s a bona fide genius who spouts off random facts and quotes obscure literature, but his mouth? His mouth is a whole different level of expertise. It’s almost unfair how good he is. It’s like he’s studied you, memorized every little thing that makes you go crazy, and now he’s putting all that knowledge to devastatingly good use.

And it’s not like he’s doing it just for your pleasure. It brings him the same deep satisfaction. His eyes are closed, and he seems to lose himself in the act, savoring every taste, every reaction, every subtle shift of your body beneath him. It’s as though he’s completely immersed in finding an almost insatiable need to drink in everything about you. His tongue delves deeper, swirling around your entrance before sucking gently on your folds, pulling the soft skin into his mouth.

You find yourself pressing his head closer to your heat. His eyes flickers up to you. “You’re back.” Your response is simply another push of his head. “Oh. Needy, are we now?”

"Mhm," you manage to squeak out, feeling a rush of wetness seeping out of you. He leans in, his tongue catching a bead of moisture before it drips further, dragging it between your slick folds.

Your grip in his hair tightens.

“Spencer…”

“I know, I know,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a smile before his mouth descends again, this time focusing on your clit. His tongue flicks over the sensitive nub before he gently sucks, pulling it into his mouth with a slow rhythm that has you gasping. Each motion is perfectly timed and you feel yourself growing even wetter under his attention. His tongue swirls, then flattens before he sucks a little harder.

It doesn’t take long for you to feel that familiar coil in your stomach. The pleasure builds steadily, the tension winding tighter and tighter until it slowly overwhelms you. Spencer seems to sense it too, his hands gripping the back of your thighs a little tighter, pushing them further apart as he continues with unwavering focus. He’s not rushing, though, he’s savoring it, but his slow motion is enough to make you snap.

Your hips jerk against his mouth, and he doesn’t miss a beat, holding you steady as he continues his ministrations. He’s relentless in his gentleness, coaxing every ounce of pleasure from you, even as you’re left gasping for air. When you finally come down from the high, Spencer finally lifts his head and places a final, soft kiss on your inner thigh.

“Do you still feel self-conscious now?”

It takes you a moment before you can answer. You smile lazily at him. “Not after that.”

He grins and pulls you up into a sitting position. “Do you think you can give me another one?”

“Spencer,” you breathe out. “Even if you gave me thousands of orgasms, I’d probably ask for more.”

The laugh he lets out is warm and infectious, the sound vibrating through you in a way that makes you smile even wider. “Well,” he starts, slipping his hand down your thigh. “The human body is capable of experiencing multiple orgasms in a relatively short period of time, especially for women. So technically, you could keep asking for more, and I could keep giving them.”

“Even up to a thousand?”

“Maybe not to that extent.” He pulls you close, and you lean your weight against him. “Hold on to me.”

You do as you’re told and somehow you find yourself in a new position. When he spreads your legs apart, your senses go on high alert again. “Spence?”

He kisses your cheek, your jaw, then the corner of your mouth. “Try to relax.”

A gasp escapes your lips as his fingers dive between your thighs. Try to relax? Try to relax? Men and their audacity to tell you what to do, especially when they're the reason you're so wound up in the first place. Because how are you supposed to relax when his fingertips are brushing ever so gently over your clit? How are you supposed to calm your breathing when he’s spreading your arousal up and down your folds?

And how are you supposed to keep your composure when he suddenly fills you with, not one, but two of his fingers?

You feel yourself slipping and he tightens his other arm around your waist. “Told you to hold on.”

He’s starting to annoy you, but you listen to him and bury your face in the crook of his neck. You take a deep breath as he starts to move his fingers. Soap, you decide. It must be his soap, because he smells clean and crisp, almost like fresh linen and a hint of something peppery. It’s almost distracting if it weren’t for the way his fingers are curling inside of you.

Then you feel that sensation again, the kind that ripples through every nerve of your body. At first, it’s manageable, an intensity you think you can handle. But when he suddenly changes his technique, everything shifts. His entire hand moves in a fast, up-and-down motion that catches you completely off guard, and before you know it, you’re whining, your grip tightening on him as your head falls on his shoulder.

The rapid pace makes your head spin. It feels like he’s pulling the control right out of your hands, leaving you questioning your own limits. You’ve seen yourself getting wet, you’ve felt yourself become drenched before, but you’ve never experienced anything like this. You never realized your body could produce this much liquid. It’s not an overwhelming amount, but more than you’ve ever seen from yourself, and it splatters against his hand, dripping down your thighs.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even flinch when your nails claw into his shirt. He keeps going, and going, and going, until the only thing you hear is your rapid breathing against his neck and the slick, wet sounds he’s coaxing out of you. You’re overwhelmed (in the best way, of course) but you can’t stop yourself from cursing as the sensation intensifies, multiplies even.

It's not until your body starts to go limp that he finally takes pity on you. He slows down, his fingers pumping lazily inside you. “Good?”

“How did you—when did you—” you exhale a long breath. “I can’t feel my legs.”

He slowly withdraws his fingers out, only to rub your essence over your puffy clit, and your hips jerk once more before he finally stops. You're a trembling mess once you sink into the mattress.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you do that before.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever done that in my life.” Your eyes suddenly feel incredibly heavy that you can't resist letting them flutter close.

He kisses the tip of your nose. “Still up for another one?”

You peer through one eye, and when you catch him starting to undress himself, your other eye shoots open. The nod you give him is eager. His smile widens as he shrugs off his shirt, and you can’t help but let your gaze drop to the line of hair trailing down his stomach. You wonder what it would feel like under your tongue.

"Wait."

Your eyes snap back up to meet his. "What?"

His face twists into a grimace. “I don’t have a condom.”

Shit. Neither did you.

You roll onto your side, propping yourself up on one elbow and resting your head in your hand. “And you’re realizing this just now?”

“I was too focused with you."

And by that, he means giving you the most intense orgasm of your life. You watch as his fingers hover over his belt. “You really didn’t think of bringing one when you decided to come over?”

“My intention coming here wasn’t exactly for this.”

“Well, it would be great if you at least considered the possibility." You study his face and blurt out the first thing on your mind, “I don’t want to stop.”

He shifts his weight on the bed. “Me neither.”

“I mean… we could have sex without using one. We’ve done it before. Once.”

He recalls what you're referring to and lets out an amused laugh. “Are you sure? Didn’t you freak out when you realized your period was late?”

“That was a coincidence! I was stressed out at that time, but I’m safe now—I think.” You pause, brows furrowing as you start calculating your cycle in your head. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m not ovulating.”

“Pretty sure?”

You give him a look. “No, I’m actually sure. I know my body, and I’ve done the math. See?” You gesture vaguely, as if the numbers and facts are floating in front of you. “No ovulation in sight.”

The corners of his mouth twitches into a smile. “Alright then,” he murmurs, and leans down to plant a soft kiss on your lips. “No ovulation in sight.”

“None,” you confirm before tugging his belt. “Can you please take off your pants now?”

He complies—with incredible speed—and when he’s finally as naked as you, your mouth waters at the sight of him. His cock is painfully hard, thick, with a bead of arousal glistening at the tip. You try to reach for him, but he has other plans. He crawls over your body and slips between your legs. He then grips the back of your thigh with one hand, pulling it up slightly to open you to him, while the other holds himself from the base.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The moan you let out is lewd. “Fuck, Spencer.”

An airy laugh slips out from him as he rubs the head of his cock around your clit. “So needy.”

You wiggle your hips. “Hurry up.”

He only hums in response, before easing his hips back just enough to drag his swollen tip through your slick outer lips. The underside of his cock splits your folds open with each stroke, and your head is spinning. It’s almost sweet how he’s taking this slow, but at this point, you’re so close to just shoving him inside you. You let out a frustrated whine when he pulls back, only to thrust forward just enough for the head of his cock to nudge at your entrance.

Your walls squeeze around him.

“O-Oh…” His mouth falls open slightly as he stares down at where your bodies meet. “I… I don’t remember you being this tight.”

You follow his gaze, watching the way your outer lips swallow him inch by inch. “I-It’s been a while.”

He pushes further, and your nails dig into his shoulders as he stretches you in a way that feels almost too much, and you can't help but tense when he thrusts further. He wraps your leg around his waist before leaning down, propping his weight on his elbows.

“Need you to relax,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over the pulse fluttering wildly in your neck. You do as he says. Breathe in, breathe out. Clench, unclench. And then you feel him easing inside you, oh-so-deliciously slow, until you squeak out a gasp when he finally fills you completely.

Because fuck, he stretches you—wrenches you open, and you’re consumed by his heat, the pressure, the sheer size of him. It overwhelms your senses, and all you can do is sing out a filthy moan. He follows your tune with a melody of his own, though his voice trembles, sounding more like he’s in pain as if he’s trying to hold himself back.

“You’re so warm,” he groans, his breath hot against your skin. “You okay?”

You nod and wrap an arm around his shoulders. “More than okay.”

“Do you think I can move?”

“Please.”

There’s no hesitation in the way he pulls back, only to sink into you again. His hips roll against yours in a way that feels both achingly slow and unhurried, like he’s savoring every second to memorize the way you feel around him. It’s like he can’t quite believe this is happening, that you’re giving him the chance to be tangled up with you in this position again.

And truthfully, neither can you.

But here you are, two bodies moving in perfect harmony, intertwined in the most primal, human way. Flesh against flesh, breath against breath. Even your heartbeats sync in the same rhythm. The world beyond seems to dissolve, leaving nothing but the pull of desire that draws you deeper into the moment, into him, until the boundaries of where you end and he begins blur into something undefinable.

It’s nonexistent. You’re glued to him, fused in a way that feels as if this is exactly where you belong.

No more running away, you decide.

“Kiss me.”

He’s in no position to decline, and within a heartbeat, he captures your lips in the sweetest kiss—well, as sweet as it can go. Because even though he tastes like honeyed warmth, his hips continue to pound into you, hitting that deep, tender spot inside. You whine against his lips. A needy, breathless sound that has him faltering for just a second, his hips stuttering against yours.

“You feel so—” he chokes on his words. “God, you’re so perfect.”

You’re perfect, you want to say, but you stop yourself, biting down on the words before they escape. It’s not that you don’t believe it. You just can’t bring yourself to admit it out loud. Not yet. Instead, your need wins out, pushing past everything else.

“More,” you gasp between shallow breaths.

He rests his forehead against yours. “Yeah? You want me to go faster?”

You whine in approval.

The instant he pulls back, his tip barely teasing your entrance before slamming into you again, a sharp gasp escapes your lips. He repeats the motion. Once. Twice. By the third time, he doesn’t hold back, driving his hips hard and fast, the wet sound of your bodies slapping together echoing off the walls.

You turn into a putty mess. You can barely think, let alone form words, your mind clouded with nothing but the feeling of him—inside you, around you. Your whole world narrows down to this moment, to the way he fills you so perfectly. His forehead stays pressed against yours the whole time, his lips hovering above yours he murmurs, “Tell me if it’s too much.”

But it’s not. It’s everything. Maybe even not enough. “I…” you gasp when a certain angle from him hits a deep spot inside you. “Oh, Spencer… harder, p-please.”

He’s more than happy to oblige.

He shifts slightly, then snaps his hips forward with a sudden, forceful thrust. He repeats the motion. Over and over again. His pace is relentless now, and he starts to pant, his breath coming in sharp, ragged bursts, every exhale brushing against your lips. There’s a tension in his body, a taut strain in muscles, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. And you can’t help but moan softly into his mouth, swallowing each of his gasps as his control starts to slip away.

“Where do you want—” His voice falters. “Can I—inside—”

You nod frantically. “Yes. Yes.”

It’s enough to push you both over the edge.

The sensation starts as a gentle warmth in your fingertips, slowly winding its way through your body. It weaves through your limbs, spirals up your spine, before gathering intensely at your core. You’re shaking, trembling, and you instinctively reach out for something to ground yourself. One hand threads into his curls, the other clutches his jaw.

Then it happens. His cock moves in a frantic rhythm, sending you spiraling deeper into intense pleasure for the third time tonight. Your inner walls tighten around him as your orgasm crashes through you, gripping him so tightly that it pulls a raw, breathless groan from his lips. He slams into you with uneven thrusts as he presses your body flat onto the bed, until he stops and shudders, spilling hot, white liquid deep inside you.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt something this intense before—not even with him in the past. Every inch of your body is buzzing as his warmth spreads through you, reaching places you didn’t even know existed. You cling to him, your nails softly grazing his back as he finally lets out a satisfied hum, his lips moving to pepper kisses along your face.

He starts with your left cheek. Two gentle kisses. He moves to your right, giving a light peck that lingers just a moment longer, almost as if he’s blowing a warm breath against your skin. You giggle as the air tickles you. Then finally, he settles on your lips with a sigh that merges into a kiss. It’s soft, sweet, and tenderly slow.

You let out another laugh when he finally pulls away.

“What?”

His curls fall messily on his forehead and you reach up, brushing it back. “You’re starting to grow on me.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “I grow on you?” You simply nod. “Like fungus?”

Your fingers pause in his hair. “Like what?”

"You know, fungus. It grows on things. Like mold or mushrooms,” he explains and gives you a smile. "Am I growing on you like that?"

You’ve been apart for so long that you almost forgot how his brain works. His unexpected comparison sparks your amusement, so you decide to humor him. “Depends on what kind of mushroom you are.”

He looks thoughtful for a while. “There's this mushroom called mycorrhiza. It forms a symbiotic relationship with trees and helps them grow by improving water and nutrient absorption."

“And that makes you what, exactly?”

“Essentially indispensable.”

“So you’re claiming you’re good for me?”

A slow, confident grin spreads across his lips. “I’m saying I’m exactly what you need.”

You burst out laughing. Your cheeks might actually ache from smiling this much. “That was pretty smooth.”

He looks incredibly pleased with himself. Then after a quiet moment, he buries his face in the curve of your neck. You close your eyes, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against yours, and a sigh escapes your lips. It’s like all the time you spent apart melts away in that single breath, and something inside you relaxes, as if he’s managed to sneak back into the parts of you you’d forgotten existed.

Maybe he is right. Maybe, after all this time, he’s exactly what you need.

You wake up to the sound of clatter. It’s loud, jarring, and it echoes around the house. You stir in bed, stretching your limbs before tensing when you feel something poking your back. Your hazy mind immediately snaps into alert, and you open your eyes fully, glancing toward the window. Sunlight is already pouring into the room, far too bright for how early you thought it was.

You quickly turn over to the other side.

“Spencer. Spencer!” you hiss, shaking his shoulders urgently. “Wake up! We overslept!”

He groans softly but doesn’t move. Another loud clatter bounces off the walls, and your heart pounds wildly in your chest.

“Spencer,” you whisper sharply, eyes widening. “I think Matt is home.”

That finally gets his attention. He blinks his eyes open. “Wha—?”

You’re already halfway out of bed, rushing to the window to peek through the curtains. Sure enough, you spot your brother’s car parked in the driveway. “Yep, he’s here,” you mutter under your breath, the panic rising as you turn back to Spencer. “And now he’s going to kill us.”

“He’s not going to kill us,” he mumbles, but even by his voice, you can tell he’s not entirely convinced. You watch as he finally slips out of bed, scrambling to pick up his clothes scattered across the floor. “We talked about this last night. It’s not going to be as bad as you think.”

You shoot him a look before quickly pulling on your own clothes.

“There’s a big difference between telling him, and him finding out that his sister is sleeping with his friend while he was away taking care of his wife and baby.” You yank your shirt over your head. “In his freaking house.”

When you put it that way, Spencer’s heart sinks a little. Although Matt isn’t a violent person, he has twice the muscle he does, and it’s not hard to imagine him being a lot less forgiving in a situation like this. He can’t help but picture the worst-case scenario even though Matt’s always been the reasonable type.

Until now, maybe.

“Do you think I should climb out the window?”

You stare at him in disbelief. "Spencer, you’re not sixteen.”

“Actually, I’ve never been in a situation like this,” he admits, pulling up his pants. “My biggest concern when I was sixteen was getting my first PhD.”

You forgot how ridiculously smart he is. Smarter than most people, definitely smarter than you. “Well now you’re getting firsthand experience.” You start pacing around the room. “Let’s just try to stay calm.”

“That’s kind of hard to do when your brother could walk in while I’m half-naked.”

You look at him in horror. “Then put your damn shirt on!"

Before he can reply, there's a noise from outside the room—a quick shuffle of steps, light and rapid, as if someone’s rushing down the hall. You barely have time to react before the door is wrenched open.

But it's not your brother.

It's far worse.

You feel your stomach drop when your eyes lands on the small figure of your nephew, standing there with wide eyes. His gaze shifts back and forth—from you, disheveled and clearly flustered, to Spencer, whose bare back is facing the door, still fumbling with his pants. From little Jake's point of view, it must look like the most confusing sight, because he quickly retreats, bolting down the hallway.

“Dad! Help! There’s a strange man in Auntie’s room!”

You don’t know whether to laugh or panic. The fact that Jake didn’t recognize Spencer without his usual suit is almost comical. You glance at him, noticing how his body has tensed, his back straightening in alarm.

“Who was that?” he whispers, turning to you with wide eyes.

"Jake.” You blow a strand of hair that falls across your face. “Who apparently thinks you're an intruder."

The blood seems to drain from his face. “He didn’t recognize me?”

Your eyes flick over his appearance—his wild, tangled hair sticking out in all directions, bare chest still slightly flushed from sleep, and pants barely zipped. “Not when you look like this, no.”

But before he can respond, you hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway, heavier this time.

Your heart leaps into your throat.

“Shit.”

“I should have climbed out the window.”

The idea of him dangling from the window is even more absurd. You glance toward the door. "Okay, wait here. Let me talk to Matt first." Your eyes flicker to his bare chest again, and you let out the most exasperated sigh. "And please, for the love of God, put on your shirt."

You don’t have time to wait for his response as you rush out of the room, quickly closing the door behind you. You take a second to catch your breath, trying to compose yourself, when a noise down the hallway draws your attention. Only then do you notice Matt cautiously advancing towards your way, his back against the wall.

That’s when you spot the gun in his hand.

“Seriously?” you hiss, staring at him in disbelief. “What the hell, Matthew!”

He looks at you, equally surprised. “Jake said there was a strange man in your room!” he replies defensively, tightening his grip on the weapon. “What was I supposed to think?“​

Your eyes shift toward your nephew, who’s peeking around the corner, his little head barely visible as he watches the scene unfold. This is definitely not how you expected your morning to go. A simple, awkward conversation was one thing, but having to disarm your brother while explaining this mess was an entirely different level.

“There’s no intruder, Matt. Put the gun down.”

He looks past you, his eyes zeroing in on the closed bedroom door. “Then who’s in there?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. There’s no easy way to explain this. How do you even start? That Spencer is standing half-naked in the guest room, trying to gather his dignity after being mistaken for an intruder by a six-year-old? You never thought you'd have to introduce Spencer to your brother this way, in his own house, under these chaotic circumstances.

You can feel Matt's eyes boring into you, waiting for an answer. All you can think is how ridiculous this all must look, and how there's no good way to smooth over the fact that, yes, Spencer Reid, his friend slash teammate, is behind the door. And the most absurd part? A part of you is more worried about the look on Matt's face than the fact that he's holding a gun.

“Please don’t be mad.”

You hold your breath as you slowly reach for the doorknob. You push the door open and let out a small, relieved sound when you see Spencer fully dressed, looking almost presentable, except for the wild hair that refuses to settle. He gives you a small nod before stepping out of the room.

“Uncle Spencer?” Jake’s small voice cuts through the tension. Matt’s gaze darts between you two, his jaw tightening as he puts the pieces together. You can see the moment realization hits him full force.

“Reid?” Matt’s voice is incredulous, bordering on betrayed. “What the hell is going on?”

“I can explain,” you say cautiously. “It’s not exactly how it looks.”

“Not exactly how it looks?” Matt echoes, his eyes narrowing at you, then shifting back to Spencer. “You’re in my guest room looking like you just rolled out of bed—”

“Fully clothed now,” Spencer cuts in quickly, which only earns him a frown from Matt.

“Not helping,” you mutter under your breath, shooting Spencer a look before turning back to your brother. “Fine, it’s exactly how it looks like. So… uh, surprise?”

You watch so many emotions flashing in his eyes. Matt’s always been a good brother. Sometimes annoying, but always reliable. He doesn’t usually get angry at you—quite the opposite, actually. He’s calm, level-headed, and more prone to offering advice than raising his voice. But now? The frustration is clear in his eyes.

He’s not mad exactly, but he’s definitely not happy either.

“Surprise?” Matt repeats, his voice flat. His gaze flick back to Spencer, who’s now shifting his weight awkwardly beside you. “This is how you decided to tell me?”

“Okay, it’s not how we planned it, obviously.”

“Clearly,” he deadpans.

You put on the best, innocent-looking face you can muster.

“Maaatttt,” you try again, deciding to use a different approach by being cute this time. “Don’t be so harsh.”

To your relief, it actually works on him, like it usually does whenever you try to charm your way out of trouble. His tough exterior falters because, no matter what, you’re still his baby sister. His face softens for a moment, shoulders dropping as he lets out a sigh.

“I’m not mad, okay? But I am your brother. And you,” he adds, pointing at Spencer. “You’re supposed to be my friend. I feel like I should’ve known about this before… well, before finding you like this.” Your shoulders slumps at his words. “How long has this been going?”

Now that is a tricky question. Explaining that you and Spencer occasionally had sex five years ago definitely isn’t something your brother needs to hear right now—or ever, really. You can almost feel Spencer tense beside you, probably having the same thought.

You clear your throat. “Last night.”

"Last night?" Matt looks at you as if you’re crazy. It might be the most disapproving look he’s ever given to you. "You're telling me this just started last night?"

"But—" you quickly add, holding up a hand to stop his train of thought. "We’ve been talking for a while, it’s not like it happened out of nowhere. Last night was just the first time we decided to actually do something about it."

“Right under my roof?” Matt’s brows pinches upward. “You lied about having a headache, didn’t you?”

“Wait, you had a headache? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You’re not sure you can handle two men pestering you at the same time. You focus on your brother instead.

“Look, we didn’t plan anything yesterday. Things just… happened,” you say, trying to explain without making it sound worse than it already does. “But it’s not only about last night. For what it’s worth, we were planning to tell to you. Just not like this.”

Your brother cocks an eyebrow. “So this isn’t a one-time thing?”

Spencer doesn’t hesitate. “God, no,” he says. You feel an arm snake around your waist. “I care about her. A lot.”

Matt stares at Spencer for a long moment, his face a mixture of frustration, concern, and something else. Acceptance, maybe. He looks back at you. “Is this what you want?”

You feel Spencer’s grip tighten on your waist. He’s also waiting for your answer.

“It’s what I want.”

Spencer’s thumb brushes over you as Matt lets out a long breath, his grip on the gun finally relaxing. “This feels weird.”

“In a good way?”

“In a bizarre kind of way.” Matt’s falls falls on Spencer again. “I’m still trying to process this, but if you hurt her—”

“I won’t,” Spencer promises. “I swear.”

“Good, because you know I can put you back to prison if you do.”

Oh, he knows. Spencer understands exactly what he means, after all, Matt was one of the few people who helped clear his name during one of the most horrific moments of his life. Even if there’s a slight jab in his words, Spencer can tell he’s being dead serious. Especially with that gun still attached to his grip.

You, on the other hand, are hearing this for the first time. “Wait, what?” you blurt out. “Prison? You went to prison?”

Spencer merely shrug. Matt finally lowers his weapon, shaking his head as if he can’t quite believe this is happening. “I need coffee,” he mutters, turning toward the kitchen.

“Wait…” Jake finally peeks out from behind the wall. You blink your eyes, forgetting he’s even there. “Does this mean Uncle Spencer is your boyfriend now?”

You feel three pair of eyes on you. Matt’s gaze is sharp. Spencer’s expression is cautious. And then there’s Jake, looking up at you with the straightforward curiosity only a child can have. To him, things are simple. Either you are, or you aren’t, and in hindsight, it really is a straightforward question. But nothing about this situation has been straightforward.

You look at Spencer for a fraction of a second. You can see the nervous hope reflected in his eyes. Maybe Jake’s question isn’t just his… maybe it’s Spencer’s too.

And sure, maybe it doesn’t have to be so complicated. Maybe it really is as simple as saying—

“Yes.” You can feel your heartbeat in your ears. “I suppose he is.”

If you’ve ever seen Spencer being happy, it pales in comparison to this. His eyes light up, and he looks at you like you’re the only person in the world. A genuine, almost boyish smile spreads across his face as you feel his warmth seep into your skin. There’s so much affection in his gaze it makes your chest tighten. He’s not just happy. He’s beaming.

Matt clears his throat awkwardly. “Come on, kiddo, let’s grab what your mom needs and get back to the hospital.” He glances back at you. “You guys coming?”

You nod absentmindedly. “Sure.”

He throws you both a look. Not hateful, but definitely not warm either. You see him grip his gun from the corner of your eye, more out of habit than necessity, before steering his son away with a firm hand on his shoulders.

“That went better than expected,” Spencer mutters the moment your brother is out of earshot.

“‘It’s not going to be as bad as you think’,” you mock, reciting the words he said to you half an hour ago.

“It wasn’t.”

“Spencer, he held a gun.”

“He thought I was an intruder. I would’ve done the same thing,” he points out, his tone surprisingly calm as he holds you by your waist. “Relax, okay? He’ll come around us. Eventually.”

“You’re awfully optimistic about this.”

“He likes me.”

He does have a point. Matt has always had a soft spot for Spencer, but you’re not sure how far that can go after what just happened. “I think you might have lost a few brownie points today.”

He considers the truth in your words. “Maybe,” he admits with a shrug. “But at least I earned a few with you.”

“Because of the boyfriend thing?” He’s grinning so wide that his eyes practically disappear into crescent moons. You poke the slightest dimple on his cheek. “Don’t act so smug. I’m still trying to process the fact that I’m dating an ex-felon.”

“I was framed,” he explains, and the way he says it so nonchalantly only deepens your confusion. He tries to smooth your frown with a kiss. “I’ll tell you everything on our first date.”

“Who said I’ll go on a date with you?”

“You will,” he simply says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“And what makes you so sure?”

Because he’s always been sure. The man who doubts everything, who overanalyzes every situation, looks at you with a certainty that makes your heart swell. You’ve seen that look before—the one that says he’s considered every possible outcome and decided this is the one that matters most. There’s something magnetic about it, the way he seems to know exactly what he wants, and right now, it’s you.

“Because I’m your mushroom.”

He’s so silly, yet there’s something so perfectly Spencer about it that makes the idea of not going on a date with him feel impossible. You shake your head, unable to suppress your smile.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mutter, but the warmth in your chest tells you he’s already won your heart.

And you don’t mind him keeping it.

[grimdarling69]

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

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

Crack

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

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

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

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

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

Dear Daniel,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Only Vlad.

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

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

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

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

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

Thank ancients.

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

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

Shit.

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

He froze. Mistake number three.

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

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

He runs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[mwagneto]

hungarian/nomadic magyar tumblr circa 998AD dashboard simulator

🏞️ vándor-ló-979 Follow

not yall still spreading emese's foundation myth??? she literally claims she fucked a bird????? like either she's lying or she cheated and she's trying to cover it up or well. i dont even want to consider the third option

🪺 magánügyek Follow

tengri forbid women do anything???

735 notes

🦅 szél-könnyű-szárnyán-szállj Follow

okay im sick of the discourse let's do this.

8,572 notes

🐎 istván-rovására Follow

that took so long lmao -> !!!!!!!∧◇ᛏ⋈∧

481 notes

🐴 csillagösvény Follow

i'm so serious rn if you support """istván""" in any way just unfollow and block me. we do NOT need him or his dumbass god and what he's been doing to our people to spread his religion is shameful.

🐴 csillagösvény Follow

btw we all know your real name is vajk stop larping as a christian it's EMBARRASSINGGGG

✝️ esztergom-örökké Follow

love seeing my mutuals reblogging this /s anyway op has multiple posts on their blog supporting quartering and human sacrifice. in case you were wondering. anyway stand with István

🐴 csillagösvény Follow

1) we dont even do human sacrifices, are you fucking stupid??? show me ONE post where i talk about that. 2) are you seriously forgetting that your bestie istván LITERALLY QUARTERED HIS UNCLE?????

#sorry to put this dumbass on the dash😭 dont even engage just block them #ur not making it up the tree of life lmao #discourse

3,264 notes

🌅 bolygó-kárpáti Follow

friendly reminder that just because you're white passing doesn't mean you're not a real magyar!! people with mixed parents are just as valid <3

🏇 attila-népe Follow

cranky coz ur ancestors decided to mix with the europeans arent you

🧺 lemezelő Follow

isnt your girlfriend literally frankish????

🏇 attila-népe Follow

you had to have done some serious stalking to find that💀 and first of all i didn't have a choice, my parents picked the tribe, and second of all she's not my "girlfriend" i got her via ritual kidnapping (WITH consent. before anyone gets weird)

🌐 a-kiber-kovács Follow

Couldn't you have kidnapped another magyar woman? Or someone from another mongoloid tribe?

🔅 hadúrsimp Follow

ohh sure so now human pet guy is gonna chime in to advocate for the kidnapping of our women while being lowkey racist. what are you even doing on nomadblr????

🌅 bolygó-kárpáti Follow

what the fuck happened to my post

19,276 notes

🪔 rakabonciás Follow

for the nth time, you're only a true shaman if you were born with teeth OR with extra fingers OR in the sac. the rest of you are faking & we can tell.

🦅szél-könnyű-szárnyán-szállj Follow

okay people keep spreading this but this is literally just wrong?? like congrats on the 6 fingers op im glad u and Little Golden Father have a special connection (genuinely) but like. táltos and sámán and mágus and garabonciás and javas etc are all different things with completely different requirements and life paths which you should definitely know if you're claiming to be one?? especially since your post says shaman but you're listing the criteria for a táltos, and your username looks like a play on garabonciás so. which is it🤔 maybe get your facts in order before trying to gatekeep

anyway don't listen to op!! your connection to the Upper World is yours alone and you're the best judge of what the Fathers and Mothers want your path in life to be!!

646 notes

🛐 mea-culpa Follow

It breaks my heart that the majority of my people still refuse to see the One True God and insist on sticking to their pagan spirits. I fear that when judgement day comes, we will all be wiped out thanks to their foul godless ways.

🐴 csillagösvény Follow

how tf am i godless when i literally have dozens of gods? little mothers and little fathers are in everything all around us & it must suck ass to live in a world where you're not surrounded by the small gods that inhabit everything. manifesting that the fene and the guta tag team beat your ass tonight

🔅 hadúrsimp Follow

hadúr will literally strike op down personally. he told me himself. whispered it to me sweetly even

🐴 csillagösvény Follow

while i agree with you, i feel like you might also have ulterior motives, nomadblr user hadúrsimp

#but live your truth! doubly so on the posts of these freak repressed bible lovers. meanwhile on the #COOL side of magyarhood we walk around butt ass naked!!! op have fun never experiencing joy ever again tho #discourse

198 notes

👑 sanctus-stephanus Follow

posting from an alt so i don't get cancelled but lowkey i'm starting to think koppány was right.... maybe this christianity thing isn't gonna work out after all

👑 sanctus-stephanus Follow

WRONG BLOG

👑 sanctus-stephanus Follow

THIS WAS A JOKE. IGNORE THIS

🪺 magánügyek Follow

ISTVÁN????????????? 💀

[dreaming-medium]

Stray Kids Kinktober Day 8

Stray Kids Kinktober Masterlist

Breeding - Bang Chan

Word Count: 8.4k

Summary: Your family’s yearly vacation is here and once again, you’re single. To avoid having your dating life be poked and prodded by your relatives, you decide to turn your best friend for a little help. Everyone already knows him! What’s the worst that could happen if he pretends to be your boyfriend for the week?

—————————————————————————

“It’s going to be a disaster,” you lament, leaning your head back over your couch. Your coffee mug gripped tightly in your hand.

A random movie is playing on your TV, but neither you nor your best friend are paying attention.

“It will not,” Chan chides and nudges your arm with his elbow.

He sips his own drink slowly, watching you throw your arm over your eyes.

“Yes it will! Every year my family goes on this vacation to the mountains, and every year I’m reminded that I’m the only single adult in the family.”

You sigh.

“You’re not the only single one, what about your cousin?”

“He started dating someone about a month after last year’s vacation. They’re still together, so she’s coming on the trip.” Your tone switches to something less dramatic. “She’s lovely, by the way, you’d like her. Very friendly.”

Chan laughs. “So, you’re single and alone there, what’s the worst that could happen? It’s your family. ”

“They make fun of me the whole time! And if I do anything my mom doesn’t like, she’ll go ‘this is why you don’t have a boyfriend, Y/N.’ Ugh!”

“Aren’t there only four ‘older’ cousins?”

“Yes, and I’m the only single one above the age of seventeen. I’m twenty four and I am going to die alone.”

Your arm drops from your eyes and you stare up at the ceiling.

The air in your apartment is warm and comfortable. Candles burn on the table beside you, filling the house with a pleasant warm cinnamon scent.

It was always one of Chan’s favorites.

“How long until the trip?” he asks.

“Next weekend.”

“Not enough time for a dating app, huh?”

You force a laugh. “No. Can you imagine? ‘Coffee was great! You wanna come on a week-long vacation with me and my giant, loud family?’ They would run for the hills.”

“Your family is great and you know it.”

“I know, they’re just… obnoxiously close, that’s all. I love them, don’t get me wrong.” You motion your arms up to the ceiling wildly in an exasperated movement. “But if I need to listen to my aunt nitpick my appearance in passive aggressive ways to ‘help’, I might kill myself.”

Chan takes a long sip of his drink. “They’re not that bad.”

You roll your eyes. “They love you so much, what would you know? Every time I bring you around them I always get tons of questions afterwards about you. I think my cousin is in love with you.”

“Which one?”

“Lily.”

“She’s twelve.”

“Twelve and in love with you.”

Both of you sit in silence for a moment. Chan’s attention slides back to the TV. He’s looking at it, but he’s not absorbing what’s really playing.

Same with you, you’re too busy wrapped up in your thoughts when an idea hits you all of a sudden.

“That’s it!” you yell, sitting up straight. Your voice startles Chan and he almost spills his drink all over your couch.

“What? What’s it?” he asks quickly, checking his pants to make sure nothing spilled.

“You can come with me!”

“You want me to go on your family’s yearly vacation in place of a boyfriend?”

“I want you to come on my family’s yearly vacation as my boyfriend.”

Chan’s head snaps over to you, his eyes wide and his jaw dropped. You’re already looking at him with pleading eyes.

“Please, Chan!” you beg before he has a chance to say no. “Please, please, please!” you repeat over and over again.

Placing your coffee on the table, you crawl closer to him on the couch, begging over and over again.

“They already love you so much! It would be so easy ! Plus, it’s all expenses paid! It’s a free vacation to a lake house in the mountains with your best friend!”

“Felix isn’t going.” Chan teases.

You whine and grab his free hand. “No, me! Your best friend! Pretty please Chan! I’ll owe you big time!”

He stares at you for a long moment, thinking it through in his head. You’re staring at him with big, pleading, sparkly eyes. He’s never been able to say no to that look.

He sucks his teeth, head cocking to the side for a second. The hand in yours twitches and he holds it, like a faux-shake.

“Fine,” he says. “But, you owe me dinner.”

Squealing, you throw your arms around his shoulders.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He wraps his beverage-free hand around you and hugs you back. “You’re seriously the best, thank you!”

“I know, I know. Now can we please finish the movie?”

——————————————

The trunk to your car slams shut, Chan dusts his hands off and then rests them on his hips.

“You look like a dad,” you tell him while coming up to the car with your backpack slung over your shoulder.

“A dad who packed the trunk of your car perfectly.” He eyes the backpack on your shoulder. “That goes in the backseat. I’m not opening the trunk again.”

Giggling, you open the backdoor and toss it in.

“Can you drive?” you ask, batting your eyelashes. “You know how much I hate driving.”

Chan sighs and holds his hand out for the keys.

“You’re the best!” you cheer and toss them to him.

“Yeah, you keep saying that.” Chan rolls his eyes and ducks into the driver’s side of the car. “Do you have the address?”

You duck inside the car and start typing on your phone. “I should have it in my texts, one sec.”

Scrolling through your phone, you try to find the text that your aunt sent you with the address. Your family has rented the same AirBnb every year since you were fourteen and yet you could never remember the address of the place.

As you’re searching for it, a phone call from your mom comes in.

“Oh, hold on.” You say to Chan and hit the answer button.

“Hey, ma!” you greet into the phone.

“Hey, sweetie! Are you on your way yet?”

“We just got into the car, actually. We’re about to leave.”

“I thought you would’ve left an hour ago.”

“Chan got held up at work, actually. Not his fault.”

At the mention of his name, Chan perks up and looks over at you, listening to the phone call intently.

“Ah, gotcha. I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me you two finally started dating.”

“Yeah, well, it’s still kinda new,” you lie through your teeth. You look up and make eye contact with Chan. “We only became official about…”

His eyes widen and he looks around panicked. Quickly, he holds up three fingers.

“About three week-”

He moves about wildly.

“Months! Three months ago! Sorry, I’m a little distracted putting all the bags in the car.”

Chan reacts to your lie comically, his chin jutting forward, head cocking to the side. You wave him off silently. Your mother doesn’t seem to clock your panic about the situation.

“I always saw how the two of you looked at each other, it was only a matter of time, really.”

A blush crawls up your neck and turns your ears and cheeks red. Chan looks down at his lap and coughs nervously, a blush of his own making its way onto his skin.

“Anyway, we better get going, mom! You know how talking on the phone while driving is illegal and all.”

“Make Chan drive! He’s the boyfriend.”

“You’re so right… And he should do so without putting up a fuss.”

Chan motions down to himself, as if to say ‘I’m already the one in the driver’s seat’. You wave him off again, trying to focus on your mother’s voice.

“Okay, okay, I’ll see you soon, but I expect some questions to be answered when I see you, Y/N!” Her voice is teasing, but it makes your blood run cold.

“Of course, mom. I’ll talk to you later, okay? Bye, love you!”

You don’t give her a chance to answer you before you hang up.

The silence in the car is so loud, the air is so still.

“So,” you say slowly. “We need to come up with a backstory, huh?”

“It seems so.”

Another bout of silence.

Neither of you are looking at each other, you’re both facing forward, staring out the windshield.

“I’ll uh… find the address.”

“Yeah.”

You clear your throat awkwardly and scroll through your phone. Chan waits a second before starting the car.

——————————————

Chan turned one of the final corners of the trip onto the street.

“Our first date?” he asks.

“Coffee at the cafe by my apartment.”

“Second date?”

“Movies, we saw Barbie. We went out to eat afterwards. A diner.”

“When did we become official?”

“Three months ago. May 6th. You asked me after our third date.”

“And?”

“You kissed me at my door.”

“Good.”

You both pause for a moment.

“How come I can’t be the one that kissed you?” you tease him.

Chan laughs out loud and turns the car into the driveway. “As if you would ever make the first move.”

You look at him incredulously. “I so would! You’re the one who gets too nervous to do anything. I say I kissed you, not the other way around.”

“No way, I kissed you.”

Chan puts the car into park.

“Absolutely not. I kissed you first.” you reply.

“Keep dreaming. I walked you to your door, we stood there and talked for a minute. You went to walk inside, but I stopped you and kissed you.”

You unbuckle your seatbelt.

“No, after we talked, there was an awkward silence and I could see how nervous you were and how you kept looking at my lips. So, I took the first step and kissed you.”

Grabbing the door handle, you wrench it open before Chan could issue a rebuttal again.

He calls your name from inside the car and lets out a loud groan afterwards.

“You can’t have all the firsts, now can you?” you call back, walking around to the trunk.

The front door to the house rips open and two of your little cousins come tearing out of the house with happy smiles.

“Y/N! Y/N!” they both call out, sprinting up to you.

Leaning down, you scoop both of them up into a hug with both arms, giving them an equally excited hello. Both of them hug you tightly.

They’re five and nine years old, girl and boy– the youngest of the cousins.

“Look who else I brought with me,” you giggle and look over at Chan, who was watching you from the side of the car. The door still opened, his arm leaning on the top.

Both of their tiny gazes turn towards him and just like that, you’re forgotten about.

“Chan!” They both cheer and run at him full tilt.

He wraps both of them up in his strong arms and picks them off the ground.

“Hello, you two!” he coos and gives them both kisses on their heads.

Something twinges within your heart seeing him interact with the two of them that way, it goes through you like an arrow. His brown eyes are so warm and sparkly holding your two little cousins close to him.

A genuine, bright smile pulled across his beautiful face.

Chan steps away from the car and puts them on the ground, they both complain. “Come on, I need to help Y/N with the bags. I wouldn’t be a good boyfriend if I made her carry them all by herself.”

Your heart thuds again. Boyfriend.

The two kids groan and give in, running back into the house, telling everyone of your arrival.

Chan watches them for a moment before turning to look at you with a sheepish smile. You smile back and knock twice on the hood of your car.

“Come on then, boyfriend. These bags won't carry themselves.”

He laughs and grabs the bags from the trunk, arguing with you when you try to lift some of the heavier bags. Well, you weren’t going to argue about carrying something if you didn’t need to.

The cold air conditioned house was a familiar sight when you walked through the front door. One of your aunts was near the entrance when you first came in.

“Y/N, Chan, you’re here! We have you both in the room down here, I hope that’s okay.” she says, pointing to the room down the hall. It’s one of only three bedrooms on the first floor.

“Yeah! That’s totally fine, thank you.”

You smile and walk to the room, dropping your bags down on the bed.

The singular bed in the room.

Chan follows you inside the room with your bags, plopping them down on the floor by the door. You turn to look at him, he’s staring at the bed, most likely thinking the same thing that you are.

He closes the door behind you both.

“I didn’t think about this part.” you say quietly just in case someone was outside the door.

He shrugs. “Just don’t hog the blankets,” he jokes. Chan brushes it off so easily.

What you don’t know is his heart is racing just as much as yours is. His mouth has gone completely dry and he had to gulp down some nerves before jesting with you.

It’s just a bed, right? Both of you can share a bed, no problem. Not at all.

The two of you have fallen asleep on the couch together before. But, it’s not quite the same as sharing a bedroom for the next week.

“I didn’t think you would need any blankets since you’re a human space heater.” You open your one bag and pull out a few smaller things.

“You’re just jealous because you’re cold all the time.” Chan stands on the other side of the bed, plugging his phone charger into the wall.

“I’m not cold all the time.”

“You’re in a sweatshirt and it’s eighty five degrees outside.”

“We had the air conditioning on in the car.”

There’s a few knocks on the bedroom door. “Dinner!”

——————————————

Contrary to what you both originally thought, your family did not grill the two of you interrogation style about your relationship. Instead, you were met with a lot of “It was only a matter of time”.

Each time one of your family members said something along those lines, both you and Chan would grow extremely shy, faces flushing and hearts racing.

Dinner was held in the back room attached to the large kitchen, a long dining table sat in the room, benches full of your family members lined it.

There were so many of you: eight cousins, three aunts, two uncles, two parents, one sister, one brother in law, one grandmother.

This was not the first time Chan had been around your extremely large family, not at all. He’s around you all the time, especially when he can’t go home to Australia for holidays. You always invite him to your family celebrations, and each time he’s more than thrilled to be there.

Everyone was so happy that he was there; part of you thinks they’re happier to see him than you.

Dinner came and went, it was filled with laughter and stories, like it usually is. Your dad and his brothers all teased one another, bringing up stories of being young in the 70’s and 80’s.

“Let’s do a movie night!” One of your younger cousins turns to her older brother. “You’ve been promising me that we would watch Star Wars.”

“You want to watch Star Wars tonight?” he replies.

“Yes, please! Cousins movie night!" She cheers and grabs her plate. “We can set the couches up like last year!”

Chan leaned over and whispered in your ear, “Movie night?”

“There’s a den upstairs with a couple couches, we push them together to make a giant bed and all watch movies at night. Very common L/N Family Activity on vacation.” you answer, leaning closer to him. “The adults usually go to bed and all the cousins watch movies.”

“Sounds exciting.”

Both of you chuckle and smile at one another. His dimples showing. You two seem to be in your own little bubble.

Chan’s leaning so close his body heat is radiating through your clothes. The fabric of his shirt is brushing against your bare arm.

“You’ll find that there’s a certain schedule to each day, breakfast, play down at the lake, lunch, back to the lake, get ready for dinner, eat dinner, movie time.”

“I think I can get used to that.”

“You better.”

A throat clears by you. Your aunt is looking at the two of you with a playful smile. “Are you both going to help clean up or what?”

——————————————

“Dibs on sitting next to Y/N!” One of your little cousins calls out after you all finished pushing the couches together.

“No, I want to sit next to her!” Another yells out.

The youngest runs up and throws his arms around your hips, hugging you close to him. Both arms don’t make it around you all the way.

“No, me!”

You laugh and ruffle his hair. He holds you tighter and it knocks you off balance slightly.

“Come on, hon, you got to sit next to me at dinner, let someone else have a turn.” you coo down to him.

“No!” he pouts and hugs you tighter. You grimace and try to pry his arms off you.

Chan comes out of nowhere and picks your cousin off the ground in one fell swoop. “How about me, huh?” he teases and tickles your cousin with his one free hand.

Your cousin starts giggling like crazy.

“Don’t I get to sit next to my girlfriend?” he jokes and tickles him even more.

The biggest smile stretches over your face, heart warming once more.

Chan drops your cousin onto the couches, he bounces a bit, still laughing.

The tickle torture continues now that both of Chan’s hands are free. Giggles turn into cackles.

No matter how hard you try, you can’t fight the smile on your face and the feeling that stirs in your stomach. Are you ovulating? You have to be. There’s no other explanation for the flutter within your chest.

He just looks so natural like that. The teasing looked adorable.

It wasn’t until one of your older cousins came into the room before your gaze was taken away from Chan.

“Lovesick, eh?” he says in your ear.

“Oh, shut up.” You hit him in the arm.

“I know that look anywhere, Y/N. You can’t fool me.” He laughs and then walks to take his spot on the big couch huddle with his girlfriend.

Chan picks your little cousin up by the ankle and starts dragging him around. Both of their laughter was music to your ears.

“Okay, okay! Move time!” You call out to the two of them. Chan looks over at you immediately with the goofiest grin on his face.

Your little cousin groans.

“Give me my boyfriend back,” you tease and climb onto the couch.

After several minutes of figuring out seating and finding the movie on the TV, everyone was finally settled.

Chan sat directly next to you, his arm on the back of the couch behind you. Both of your legs stretched out in front of you and a shared blanket draped over you both.

The opening title sequence of Star Wars starts playing and silence falls over your cousins for the first time since you got there.

Absent-mindedly, Chan’s fingers lightly brush over the skin of your exposed shoulder from behind you. They trace small shapes lightly.

You can’t even focus on the movie in front of you, Chan’s touch is too distracting.

Your sister and her fiance sat on the other side of you. She leaned over and whispered in your ear about twenty minutes into the movie.

“You can cuddle with your boyfriend, you know.”

A flush crawls up your neck. “Yeah, of course I know that. I just didn’t want to–”

Chan must’ve heard her, his hand closes over your shoulder and brings you closer to him. Your body turns into his, head tucked underneath his chin. His body warmth seeps into you as soon as you press into him.

The cherry on top is when he presses a kiss to the crown of your hair before resting his chin on top of your head. A shockwave of goosebumps ripples through your body.

Thinking you were chilly, Chan wraps his other arm around you and holds you even closer.

Well, if he’s playing the part.

You intertwine your legs with his underneath the blanket. His heart jumps in his chest and he has to fight the urge to press another kiss into your hair.

Chan knew he was pushing his luck with the first one, but it just felt so natural, he couldn’t help himself. Every single time the two of you touch, he instinctually takes it further into a romantic zone.

Previously, he would restrain himself from advancing these moments with you, but now? He doesn’t need to hold himself back. He can let his body react naturally.

The movie continues on, whenever a younger cousin would ask any questions about the movie, one of the older kids would answer.

Whenever Chan was the one to answer, his voice would rumble deep within his chest. The later it got, the raspier it sounded.

Throughout the movie, you both just got more and more tangled up underneath the blanket. You slid an arm around to rest your hand on Chan’s chest; fingers mindlessly playing with the fabric of his t-shirt.

Chan melted into your touch so easily.

In all the years you’ve been close friends, you’ve never been this level of a human pretzel while hanging out. He’s relishing every moment of it. Your shared body heat mingling is intoxicating to him.

He’s such a tactile person, physical touch is definitely his love language.

Chan can’t remember a time he was ever this cozy while watching a movie.

One of his hands moves from your shoulder and into your hair, running his fingers through the strands gently.

Every muscle in your body relaxes when he starts scratching at your scalp lightly. His soft exhales puff out on your head. Normally, this would bother you, but instead you find it soothing.

Both of you were fighting against your eyelids towards the end of the movie. The little kids fell asleep about ten minutes before the credits rolled.

Chan squeezes you tighter for a moment before whispering into your hair, “Time for bed.”

Your heart squeezes. “I gotta help get the little ones to bed.”

“I got it,” he answers. “Go wash up and get to bed. I’ll be downstairs in a few.”

Words can’t even describe how much your heart melts at his words.

Pull it together, Y/N. He’s your fake boyfriend for the week, remember? Not your real one.

It’s Chan – Bang Chan. The same guy who held your hair each time you drank yourself sick in college. The guy who camps out at your dining room table to work because he claims the Wi-Fi is better at your apartment.

Nevertheless, you peel yourself off of him, untangling your limbs and sitting up.

“You’re the best,” you say to him with a sleepy smile.

“I know.”

——————————————

Sunlight streams in through the bedroom window and the air conditioning unit continuously hums in the room.

A strong arm squeezing tighter around your body is what drags you out of dreamland.

A searingly hot body is pressed flush against the back of yours; legs tangled up, back to chest, soft exhales blowing into your hair lightly.

The haze of sleep still has your mind in its grip. All you know in that moment is that it’s so cozy, so warm, so nice that you can’t help but press your body backwards into that serene clasp.

The arm tightens again and brings you even closer.

A nose nuzzles further into the back of your head.

Chan, it’s Chan behind you.

You should care. You should be prying his arm off your waist and scooting over away from him.

But you don’t want to. It’s too nice.

It’s so peaceful, you’re about to drift back to sleep when the sound of two separate footsteps run towards your bedroom door.

They’re so loud, it rips you from sleep and you tense up, preparing for impact.

Your bedroom door is practically flung open.

Chan jolts against your body at the noise, his eyes snap open, arm tightening around you even more in a protective manner.

He has about two seconds to get his bearings before both cousins leap onto the bed, yelling at you both to wake up.

Chan releases you and turns over onto his back with a deep groan.

You groan and squint your eyes closed, bringing the covers up over your head.

“Noooo…” you moan out.

Chan laughs and grabs one little cousin closely, hugging her close to his chest. “Are you in here to sleep in bed with us? I sure hope so since it’s still soooo early.”

She giggles and tries to fight against his strong arms. “No!” she cackles. “You have to eat breakfast so we can go swimming down at the lake!”

Your other, more calm, cousin squirms underneath the covers and cuddles up to you. Slinging an arm around him, you keep your eyes closed and try to let your mind drift off again.

This is not the first time he’s done this, and it most likely will not be the last. It breaks your heart thinking about the year he feels like he’s too old to do this.

Chan is practically wrestling with your cousin next to you. She squeals when he turns on his side with her encased in his arms.

“Chaaan!” she giggles.

After a few moments, he lets her go and she clambers off the bed.

“Come on, Chan! Come sit next to me at breakfast!” She pulls on his hand closest to the edge of the bed.

He laughs and turns his head to look at you. You’re fast asleep again with your younger cousin asleep in your arms.

Chan’s heart slams against his ribcage and his stomach does a cartwheel.

Your sleeping face is so peaceful, and the way your little cousin has the same hair color as you had the cogs in his mind turning.

What if that was your kid in your arms, not just a cousin?

What if it was his?

His eyes flicker all over your face.

Something stirs in his mind, shooting down his spine. If it wasn’t for your other little cousin yanking on his arm over and over again, probably would’ve watched you for a few more moments, allowing his mind to roam into dangerous territory.

——————————————

“You’re staring.” Your aunt sits next to Chan with a plate full of food.

He’s camped out on the back porch of the cabin. It overlooks the wooden stairs that lead down to the dock hanging over the lake.

You’re lounging out on a floaty, pina colada in your hand– courtesy of him. He had walked it down to you only a few moments ago.

When it was announced that it was lunch time, you told Chan you wanted to work on your tan without worrying about your cousins splashing you every five seconds.

Maybe making you a frozen drink was just an excuse to see your face light up when he brought it to you. Maybe it was an excuse to watch the water droplets slide over your body up close.

Chan clears his throat and tears his eyes off your lazing form. Clearly, he’d been caught staring at your bikini clad form.

She nudges his arm playfully. “Don’t be embarrassed, it would be weirder if you didn’t stare, you know.”

Your family can be so crass sometimes.

Chan laughs and takes a bite of the sandwich on his plate. “It’s just nice to see her relaxing for once.”

“Has she been working herself into the ground again?”

“She never stops.”

Your aunt nods and looks back down at you before taking a bite of her own food. “Also helps that she looks good in that bathing suit.” She pauses. “Damn, your kids will be good looking.”

Chan chokes on his bite of food, his body jerks forward and he slams his fist into his chest to try and get it down.

Your aunt pats him on the back a few times, laughing at his expense.

“What?” She questions with an evil chuckle. “Don’t act like you haven’t thought about it.”

“We’ve only been together for three months,” he wheezes out, still hitting his chest. The clump of food is sitting in his throat.

“And?”

“It’s too early to think about stuff like that,” he lies through his teeth.

You’re not even his. You’re not. This week will end and you’ll have to go back to just being best friends.

He’ll have to pretend that he wasn’t fake sleeping for the last hour before you woke up just to have his arms around you for a little while longer.

“Please.” Your aunt rolls her eyes and goes back to her food when another family member joins the table.

Chan takes a long swig of water before letting his eyes flicker to you once more. Your free hand hangs down in the water, head tilted back to dip into the cool lake, exposing your long, beautiful neck.

In his swim trunks, his cock twitches and he takes an even bigger drink of water.

——————————————

The torture continues endlessly for the two of you.

It’s the fourth night when it’s just you and Chan left awake.

Rain is pouring against the windows outside, the fireplace is lit, TV playing something in the background.

“I’m never going to get to bed.”

“I told you that you shouldn’t have had coffee with dessert,” you tease Chan, nudging his arm.

“Your uncle offered me a cup and I panicked.”

“You don’t even like coffee.”

“I know!” He whined.

You laugh at his expense. “Come on,” you tug on his arm. “You promised you would play pool with me.”

“When did I say that?”

“Literally this morning!”

“Fine, fine.”

He allows you to pull him off the couch with a dorky smile on his face. He loves giving you a hard time for no reason at all.

The pool table sat in the front room, just a few steps away from your bedroom.

Every time the two of you had gone to play pool, other family members would get in the way and pull one of you two in another direction.

Tonight was really the first night you both had to yourselves.

“You break,” you tell him once everything is set up. He nods and lines up his shot. After a second, he hits the cue ball perfectly into the cluster and all the balls scatter along the table, but nothing sinks into the pocket.

“Pity,” you tease him.

“Pity,” he repeats, mocking your tone.

Laughing, you bend over and line up your own shot. From across the table, Chan watches your form bend over, his lip pulling between his teeth mindlessly.

You hit the ball and sink one in.

With a cheer on the quieter side, you look at him with a smirk. He rolls his eyes playfully as you line up another shot.

The game continues just like this for a bit. Both of you going back and forth, missing most shots, but also nailing some good ones.

You’re tied at the end, racing to try and sink the 8-ball before the other person.

Leaning over the table right in front of him, you try and set up your aim.

“Wait,” Chan says quietly before you can pull the pool stick back to take your shot.

He leans down over you, pressing his back into yours, arms coming around you. He guides your aim to hit the cue ball differently.

The entire time, your heart rate is increasing exponentially.

“Just a bit more to the left,” he whispers in your ear. Chills rip down your body and you gulp. His voice sounds so low and sensual.

His hand over yours adjusts with tiny, miniscule movements. He keeps changing the aim a bit to the left, then a bit to the right, like he’s prolonging the contact.

Behind you, his hips are pressed into yours. It’s taking every ounce of willpower and control for him not to get hard in his sweats.

Especially, since in this position, he potentially could–

“Pull back,” he rasps. You follow his instructions immediately. He helps guide the pool stick back, hesitating for a moment. His chest inflates with a deep breath.

He breathes in the smell of your shampoo.

“Shoot,” he exhales.

With his guidance, you both shoot the ball, standing up quickly to watch it bounce off the 8-ball and then sinking into the corner pocket.

You cheer and jump up, turning around to face him directly.

“Take that!”

When you turned to face him, he hadn’t backed away yet. You’re practically nose to nose with Chan. A gasp catches in your throat from his proximity.

And yet, he still doesn’t back away. He continues to stare at you, his eyes dart from yours, down to your lips, then back up to your eyes again.

“Y/N,” he breathes out.

You swallow nervously and hold his eye contact.

Chan’s jaw clenches once, his hands ball into fists at his sides. Every single ounce of constraint is being tested within his body right now.

Cracks are going up the dam of his self control.

You’re not moving away; why aren’t you moving away from him?

He watches your eyes flicker down to his lips once and that’s all it takes for his mind to snap.

Chan lunges forward, grabbing your face with both of his hands and smashing your lips together. You let out a surprised noise against his mouth, your pool stick clattering to the ground.

Every bit of pent up aggression from the last few days is poured into the first kiss.

His hands aren’t on your face for long. He can’t keep still, sliding them all over your body; into your hair, down your sides, grabbing your hips, he’s everywhere.

“Fuck,” he growls against your lips. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Y/N. Shit.”

Even though he’s apologizing, he can’t stop himself. He can’t stop slotting his lips over yours, devouring your very being.

Chan’s eyebrows are pinched together painfully. He’s pinning your body against the pool table with his hips.

You grab at his shirt and pull him closer.

“Shut up,” you say in between heated kisses.

“But I–”

“Shut up.” Your tongue runs over his bottom lip and his mind whites out. Every rebuttal fell from his mind, through the floor and into the Earth.

You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing his face even closer to yours as he licks into your mouth. With each turn of your heads, your noses brush against one another.

Chan runs his hands down your body and grabs underneath your thighs, picking you up and placing you on the pool table.

Your legs part and he stands in between them, never leaving your lips once.

As he runs his hands up your legs, he squeezes your bare thighs every few inches. It makes your core clench and body tingle.

Your fingers run up through his hair, grabbing tightly and pulling. Chan moans into your mouth and moves his hands to grab at your waist, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt.

“Chan,” you whisper on his lips. He responds with a grunt. “Need you.”

God.

His hands fly to your legs again, grabbing you by the knees, he yanks your hips forward. Your clothed core comes into direct contact with his erection.

“I can give you exactly what you need, baby.” he nips your lip with his teeth. “I can take good care of you, yeah?”

Trailing his fingers up, he toys with the waistband of your shorts. At the same time, he moves his kisses down your neck. You tilt your head back to give him more access.

“Wanna take these off, babygirl?” he moans when you roll your hips into his.

“Yes, please.” you hiss in response.

Lifting your hips, he grabs the fabric and slides it down your legs, tossing them onto the floor with the forgotten pool stick.

Kisses trail lower and lower down your neck as he lowers to the ground.

Chan pulls away to kneel onto the ground.

His eyes are heated and strong when they meet yours. A dark scarlet color covers his cheeks and down his neck, disappearing into his sleeveless shirt.

Both of his hands grab at your thighs when he looks down at your glistening cunt. You’re absolutely soaking wet by now.

Since the moment he helped you line up your shot, you felt your panties dampening.

Wasting no time, Chan leans forward and runs his tongue from the bottom of your slit all the way up to the top, swirling around your clit and sucking gently.

Your hand flies up to cover your mouth, the other rests on the table behind you to keep your balance.

He repeats the action again, this time with more fervor and you squint your eyes shut, head tossing back from the pleasure that rips down your spine like a zipper.

Chan’s hands tighten around your thighs, eyes staring up at you and studying each reaction closely.

You taste so fucking good. He can’t get enough of you. His tongue greedily scoops up your juices, licking around your clit to feel you grind into his face.

His cock throbs with each moan, each whine that makes it through your fingers held tightly over your mouth.

After one long suck on your clit, Chan dips his tongue inside you, licking at your walls. Your eyes roll back into your head, the hand over your mouth flies down to grip at his hair.

He can’t help but smirk into your folds.

Every single moan is music to his ears.

Slowly, he inches his fingers over and when he moves his tongue up to your clit, he slides a finger into you, immediately curling it up to hit that spongy spot inside you.

“Jesus fuck–!” you cry out as quiet as you can manage.

It doesn’t slip your mind that you’re quite literally in a house full of relatives who could wake up and come into the front room at any moment and see the two of you.

But the fear just adds an extra layer of arousal to you.

“Does that feel good, babygirl?” Chan mutters into your cunt. “Does it feel good to have my fingers inside you?”

He thrusts his finger in and out slowly, those brown eyes studying you like a predator studies prey.

You bite your lip, eyes closed, and nod your head.

Chan adds a second finger and your head tosses back again. He can feel you clench down hard on his fingers when he licks your clit in long, even strokes.

A thin sheen of sweat covers your body.

“Chan,” you whine.

“Yeah, baby?” he teases, licking up slowly, the pace of his fingers is equally as slow. But, regardless of the pace, he’s still coaxing you towards the edge of an orgasm. It’s building slowly, you can feel it in the pit of your stomach.

“Shit,” you buck your hips into his face when he does one particularly hard thrust.

“Use your words, little girl.” He bites your thigh and then goes back to your folds. You clench around him hard at the name.

How are you supposed to use your words when your voice keeps getting caught in your throat? When every time you think you can open your mouth, a sultry moan tumbles out.

“N-Need you,” you manage to strain out.

A devilish smile pulls at his lips. He begins to thrust faster with his fingers, licking your clit quicker.

“Need me?” He asks in between licks. “You need me?”

Veins are popping in your neck from straining to keep your voice down.

“Yes, fuck!” You hiss out. “ I need you.”

In between his legs, Chan can feel his cock weeping with precum. His mind is so clouded with lust he can barely think straight.

Desperately, he wishes that you didn’t have to keep your voice down. He wants to make you scream.

Faster and faster he thrusts and licks at your soaking cunt, greedily tasting your juices.

Your thighs twitch on either side of his head the closer you get to your orgasm.

“Chan,” you grab his attention by yanking on his hair. He grunts and looks up at you through his lashes, lips still devouring you. “Inside, inside. I need your cock inside me.”

Your words go straight to his dick, he licks at your cunt a few more times before standing to his feet quickly to lock your lips together, fingers still buried inside you.

When you taste your own slick on his tongue, your eyes roll back in your head and you clench around him. Chan smirks into the kiss, curling his fingers up.

He’s relentless. Tongue sliding over yours, moans being eaten up by a greedy mouth while his fingers fuck into you.

With more strength than you thought you had, you pry Chan’s lips off yours by pulling his hair back.

“If you don’t fuck me in the next thirty seconds, I’ll pin you down and ride you until your cock can’t cum anymore.”

An exhale is punched from his chest. His mind whites out. Chan’s mouth drops open and his fingers stutter within you.

Did you really just say that? That sounds like a fucking dream.

“Babygirl,” he growls darkly. “You have no idea what you’re asking for.”

Your eyes darken and you pull his hair again. ���Fuck me until I can’t walk, Chris.”

Chan rips his fingers out of your cunt, grabs both of your hips and roughly pulls you off the pool table.

He fists a hand in the back of your hair and spins you around, shoving your head down, bending you over completely.

You’re lucky you had half a mind to put your arms out to rest your weight on your elbows.

Using his one foot, he knocks the inside of yours outwards to spread your legs even more.

“Fucking look at that,” he marvels, running his free hand up your ass and kneading a handful. After a second he reels back and brings his hand down with a painful smack.

Your one hand flies to your mouth to cover the squeak that you make.

“Bent over, soaking wet cunt just fucking waiting to take my cock.” His hand tightens in your hair. The other hand rips his sweatpants down to take his cock out. “What a good girl you are.”

Chan can’t remember a time he’s ever been this hard.

Casting a look over your shoulder, you look back at Chan. His eyes are blown out, lip pulled in a sneer as he fists his cock, staring directly at your fluttering walls clench around nothing.

“You wanna fill me up, Channie?”

His eyes snap up to yours with a predator-like stare. His hand stops pumping his own cock, hell, he even stops breathing.

Chan’s jaw clenches, every ounce of self control is being drained. How much more of this can he fucking take before he passes out?

“What?” His voice is so strained and hoarse.

Your eyes narrow and you wiggle your hips tauntingly. “Come on, Chan.”

Chan’s eyes darken. He fists your hair and shoves your face down on the table and slams his cock inside you.

Your mouth stretches open in a silent scream, but you don’t let the noise make it out of your body.

Chan’s eyes roll to the back. You feel so fucking good.

“Holy shit.” He moans out. “Jesus fuck you’re so fighting tight.”

He wastes no time, pulling his cock out to slam back inside you. Your back arches and hips press into his to meet his thrust.

Each sharp wave of pleasure shoots down your legs and into your toes.

Small gasps and whines make their way through your lips.

Chan leans down, yanking your hair back to pick your head up slightly. His face comes down next to yours.

“You like this, yeah?” He whispers harshly. Thrust after thrust slams against your cervix. “You like when it’s rough?”

Closing your eyes tightly, you keep your mouth shut, trying to nod with his hand so tightly wound in the crown of your hair.

“Better be quiet, then. Don’t want someone coming out and seeing you look like a cum hungry, whore.”

Over and over again he fucks into you.

After one harsh thrust, your mouth drops open and before you can moan loudly, Chan’s free hand covers your mouth tightly.

“Feels that good to have my cock inside you, huh? Can’t control that pretty mouth, you’re so fucked out.”

You whine and nod again. Nails digging into the felt of the pool table underneath you.

Hot, white pleasure is coursing through your veins. You’ve never been fucked like this in your life.

Chan leans down more and bites at the side of your neck, lapping at the skin and leaving small marks that will fade by the morning.

“You’re fucking lucky you have to be in a bathing suit in front of your family tomorrow. Otherwise I would leave my fucking mark all over you.” He bites, but doesn’t suck. “Make sure everyone knows you’re mine.”

Another whine is stopped by his hand.

“I have a better idea, babygirl.” He bites your earlobe, pace slowing down within you. Instead, he thrusts deeper, you can practically feel him within your gut. “I’m going to do exactly what you said, yeah? Fill you up? Make that pussy sloppy with my fucking load.”

Your hips jerk back into his to try and encourage him to pick up the pace. Chan only tightens his hold in your hair.

“You’re going to take whatever I give you, every last fucking drop. Even after I pull out, I’ll stuff you with my fucking fingers so nothing gets wasted.”

Arching your back, you press into him more.

“You want that, huh?” He growls, biting your ear. His pace picks up gradually, each thrust rougher and faster than the last. “You want my seed inside you?”

You nod pathetically.

“You want me to fuck a baby into you?”

His thrusts start growing erratic.

You never expected him to be this talkative during sex. But he hasn’t shut up once.

Another nod accompanied with a whine comes from you. You’re absolutely drowning in pleasure.

“Gunna carry my kids, got the fucking perfect hips for it, yeah? You’ll look so fucking hot all pregnant with our kids. Fuck.”

He’s so lost and fucked out, he can’t stop his mouth from running, spewing all his fantasies.

Moving his hand from your mouth, he trails it down to grab at your throat.

“Chan!” You moan out, licking your dry lips.

“Can feel you clenching, babygirl. You gonna cum for me? Gunna cream on my cock? Suck up my cum and hold onto it with this tight fucking pussy?”

“Yes yes yes yes.” You pant over and over again. “Kiss me, kiss me, please”

When you turn your head, your lips smash together.

The coil in your gut is seconds from snapping.

You bite Chan’s lip and pull back.

“Fuck me full, daddy.”

Every muscle in his body tensed and his thrusts turn into something animalistic. The hand in your hair is so tight your scalp is screaming.

“Say it again.”

“Fu-huck,” is all you’re able to manage.

“Say it again.” He barks in your ear. You’re not going to be able sit down tomorrow.

“Daddy.”

A bite to your neck.

“Again.”

“Daddy! Fuck me, daddy!”

“Holy shit.” He whines in your ear. Hearing you say that makes him feel fucking insane. His body is acting on its own.

With a few more thrusts both of you are thrown over the edge at the same time. Your cunt clenching around him so tight, Chan can barely breathe.

His cock spurts and sprays within you, painting your walls white.

Every single sensation feels so good you think you leave for body for a few minutes. Your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks.

His entire body is wrapped around yours. Grunts in your ear keep you grounded.

You feel so full.

Chan came inside you so much that it’s leaking out and dripping down the inside of your legs.

He pants heavily into your ear.

Releasing your neck, he lovingly runs his hand down your side, caressing your hip, massaging circles into the bone.

His hand slides around and cups your lower stomach tenderly.

Slowly, he unwinds his hand from your hair, kissing at the roots he’s been relentlessly pulling on. He scratches and rubs at your scalp to ease the ache.

But still, he hasn’t pulled out.

Chan kisses the top of your head and down to your face, kissing the cheek he’s able to reach.

You can’t catch your breath.

“Y/N,” he whispers into your hair.

You hum back to him, eyes still closed in bliss.

“I love you.”

Your heart jumps in your chest, Chan feels you clench around him.

“I love you too.” It falls from your lips so easily, like it’s been sitting there for so long, just waiting to be heard.

Both of your heads turn to kiss one another.

It’s so ungodly sweet for the events that just took place minutes ago.

His lips are so soft and plush, especially from being swollen from your steamy kisses.

Inside you, you can feel his cock twitch. Is he…?

Breathlessly, you pull away from his sweet kiss.

“Are you still hard?” you pant.

Sheepishly, he smiles and ruts into you. A moan catches in your throat.

“Babygirl, I’ve been waiting for so long to fuck you. It’s going to take a few times before I’m ready to call it a night.”

[tourturestarradio]

𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐀

“𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞! 𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Prompt: Deadpool x kind reader x Wolverine 

Warnings: sexual jokes, jealous Logan, jealous Wade, suggestive

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮

You woke up to a knock at your door slowly getting up you peeked out your peep hole seeing Wade also looking through your peep hole. 

Opening the door Wade greeted you hugging you tightly “honey bun! My favorite sweetheart! My amazing baker! Love of my-“ you blinked in confusion “um Wade” you called out, he looked down at you “yes?” “Could you not shout please” Wade nodded “right I forgot it is pretty early” 

You walked over to your couch plopping down as Wade went to your kitchen “hey Honey bun!” He called out, “yes?” You hummed clicking on your tv “do you think you could help me with something!” He walked back into the living room “yeah…yeah sure” you yawned, Wade sat down beside you wrapping his arms around your torso pulling you into his lap.

“So…you’re a baker right?” You glanced at him a chuckle leaving your mouth “yes I am” he nodded playing with one of your hands as your other one flicked through different channels. 

“So I was scrolling on the internet trying to blow one off when I saw this great absolutely beautiful cake idea….and I was wondering if you could make it for me?” You nodded “sure what is it?” You asked looking at him “cinnamon roll cookies.” You stared at him trying to make sure you heard him correctly “what?” He shook your shoulders “please Honey bun! It’s would be great!” You grabbed his wrists “alright…” 

Getting up you looked down at him “when do you need it?” He grew excited “yay! Okay, um by tomorrow ” “Wade!” You whined, he grabbed your shoulders “first, don’t whine my name like that it’ll turn me on, second pleaseeeee! It’ll be great!” He rested his chin on the top of your head poking where your nipples would be “I miss your eating your desert….that could mean two things” You grew flustered swatting away his hand. 

“F…Fine but I’ll need to go to the store first” you hummed, Wade gave you a cheesy smile “thanks honey bun bye now!” He hurried out of your apartment as You sighed.

Waving bye to him you yawned “Alright bye Wade, if you want you can help out and tell Logan I said hi!” He shut the door leaving you alone, you started to get dressed for the day. 

Leaving your apartment you went off to the store. 

Your eyes scanned the shelves trying to find the right ingredients you only need two more things why were they so hard to find?! You felt a light tap on your shoulder turning around you spotted a taller male with black hair he was kinda handsome “am I in your way? I’m sorry” the male shook his head “no but were you muttering about brown sugar?” He asked. 

You gulped embarrassed that you were muttering to yourself in public “oh um yeah I can’t find that or cinnamon for some reason?” You frowned, the male looked in his basket “if you want you can take mines” he offered a friendly smile on his face. 

You shook your head “no, no it’s alright” he handed the brown sugar to you “no it’s fine you can take it” he stated you grabbed the bag “you sure?” He chuckled and nodded “yeah I’m sure you probably need it more than me” he reassured, a smile graced your face “thanks you’re a real life saver” He waved you off “oh stop just trying to help, I’m Jackie by the way” you placed the sugar in the cart “I’m Y/n” you replied.

You both made friendly conversation a few laughs being shared between you too “so what are you making these for?” He asked, you placed the cinnamon in your cart “making cinnamon roll cookies for a friend he has a sweet tooth” the male seemed to make a face at the word ‘he’ leaving your mouth.

But he ignored that and nodded “sounds delicious, reminds me of the cinnamon rolls I had at this cafe a while ago” he stated, you glanced at him “oh what cafe” he thought for a moment “(cafe name) they have really good desserts” you perked up at the mention of your cafe “that’s my Cafe!” He laughed “you’re lying” you shook your head “nope just opened it a month ago glad you like my stuff” you smiled nudging him with your elbow. 

He blushed lightly, you bought your things “hey um you need help carrying that?” He asked you nodded “yes that would be nice thanks” he carried your bags luckily the apartment wasn’t far from the store. 

He helped you bring your things up to your apartment “alright thanks Jackie hope to meet you again” you stated placing your things inside “wait um Y/n…” you looked back at him “would you wanna grab a drink later maybe around 9 maybe 9:30?” He asked.

You blinked “oh I don’t know I gotta start working on these-“ “please it’ll be great I promise” he hummed, you thought for a moment “alright that’s if I can get these finished before then” he nodded a smile growing on his face “wanna trade numbers?” You nodded pulled out your phone.

“Okay bye Jackie” you gave him a side hug shutting your door, he walked away a grin plastered on his face. You sighed “okay let’s get started.” 

You wiped the sweat from your forehead as you carefully wrapped the cookies checking the time you saw it was close to 9 o’clock. “Oh no” quickly you pulled off your clothes to go freshen up. 

You slid on your party dress it was a dark red and backless, you hadn’t worn it in a while so it was a little smaller the end of the dress just making right below your ass.

You put on some jewelry and styled your hair, sliding on your kitten heels you grabbed the tray of cookies and your purse. Going over to Wades apartment you knocked lightly on the door, it opened revealing an annoyed looking Logan.

His eyes went wide seeing you “Y/n uh what…what are you-“ “hi Logan! can you give these to Wade I gotta go” you hummed texting Jackie Logan stared at you.

You were already hot enough seeing you in that outfit really made him feel a little hot “where are you headed?” He asked, what did you need to be this dressed up for you were already sexy as is?

You glanced up from your phone “hm? Oh I’m going on a date” Logan felt a harsh jab in his chest “…a…date?” He questioned, you nodded “yes so can you give these to Wade please-“ “peanut who are you talking with- oh my ragging boner, Honey bun?!” Wade shoved Logan aside “you got all dressed up just for me” he placed his hand on his heart “that’s so cute but that’s gonna be off in a matter of seconds” he said taking the tray of cookies.

You shook your head “oh no um I’m going on a date” you explained, Wade froze “I’m sorry what?” He looked confused “I’m going on a date but tell me how the cookies taste bye see you in a bit.”

Wade stopped you “wait, wait, wait, you’re going on a date?” You nodded your head slowly “yep so I have to go-“ Wade frowned “but we were supposed to hang out…” he sounded so heartbroken, felt that way to. 

You sighed “I’ll be back in a bit we’re just getting drinks” you explained, Wade waved you off “no, no go be with your Prince Charming that’s more important than me, than us!” He pouts grabbing Logan’s arms who quickly swatted away his hand. 

You frowned “it’s not like that Wade” You looked at Logan for help but he also looked hurt, Wade flopped down on the couch like a deflated balloon Huffing you walked in “fine. I’ll stay.” 

Wade shot up hugging you “great! I knew you wouldn’t leave us for that incel loser!” You rolled your eyes “I feel bad for just bailing on him, he was pretty sweet” Logan rested his hands on your hips coming up behind you “trust me sweetheart I can treat you much better than him” Wade corrected “we can” You gulped feeling the heated tension rise.

You tilted your head “really?” Wade’s eyes were trained on your lips “really.” Logan’s hands traveled up and down your sides “then show me?” You hummed Wade smirked “challenge excepted.” He hummed.

Jackie called your number again but still it went straight to voicemail “fucking bitch…pick up the phone.” Just as he requested you answered only it was you it was a males voice “sorry Y/n can’t come to the phone right now she’s a little occupied at the moment but leave a message!” Jackie opened his mouth to speak when he heard moans in the background of the call.

“Ha…Harder Logan! Please, pl…please! Fill me up” Right before he hung up he heard the other voice speak “hey save some for me! Sorry Jackie’s but she’s taken already- Beep!” The phone shut off leaving Jackie stunned.

He threw his phone “fucking two timing whore!” 

Logan glanced over “was that him?” Wade laughed “yep” Logan petted your hair “could have let her answer” he joked, Wade shook his head “hey you know it’s rude to talk with your mouth full!” 

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮

A/n: IM OBSESSED WITH X MEN AND DEADPOOL RN RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHGHHHH 

[xo100]

Unwrapped feelings - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary: At their birthday celebration, you feel upset when none of the gifts are for you. Lando reassures her of his love, making her feel cherished despite the oversight.

*:･ﾟ Word count: 1494

୨ৎ

Lando Norris was the sun in her life, a constant, warm presence that filled her days with joy. She loved him deeply, and after three years of dating, her heart still fluttered when he looked at her the way he did. They were each other's best friends, sharing everything from their quiet nights at home to the busy life he led as a Formula 1 driver. Lando loved her, too. There was no question about that. He made sure to remind her with every touch, every soft kiss, and every whispered word when they were alone. But no matter how much love existed between them, there was a silent, looming cloud that she tried so hard not to notice. His friends.

They never liked her, and she couldn’t quite understand why. She wasn’t arrogant or boastful. In fact, she was quite the opposite—introverted, sweet, and often quiet, especially around large groups. She wasn't overly outgoing or dramatic, and she certainly wasn’t trying to steal Lando away from his friends. But still, whenever they were together with his friends or the rest of the team, she could feel their subtle distance. The sideways glances when she spoke, the quick change of conversation when she joined a group—it all added up.

It wasn’t as though she had never tried to bridge the gap, either. Early in their relationship, she had gone out of her way to be friendly, to make conversation, and to show interest in their lives. But the more she tried, the more it felt like she was only getting further away from them. Over time, she stopped trying so hard, and she retreated back into the quiet comfort of just being by Lando’s side. After all, he was the one she loved. As long as they were okay, nothing else should matter, right?

But it did. Even if she wouldn’t admit it out loud, it hurt that the people closest to Lando—the ones he spent so much of his life with—didn’t seem to care for her. And that quiet hurt always seemed to linger at the back of her mind.

This weekend, however, was supposed to be special. A day for both of them, a moment to celebrate not only Lando’s birthday but hers as well. The idea to celebrate their birthdays together was something Lando had insisted on. They were only a few days apart, and since Lando had such a busy schedule, he suggested one big party where they could celebrate together. He even offered to host it at the McLaren Technology Centre, a place he called home and wanted to share with her.

“Everyone will be there,” he had said, his excitement bubbling over. “My friends, the team, some of the drivers. It'll be great!”

She had nodded with a smile, her heart hopeful that maybe this would be a chance to connect with everyone on a different level, in a more relaxed and festive atmosphere. Her own friends, though invited, couldn’t make the trip to England, and while she understood, she couldn’t help but feel a little bit lonely knowing she wouldn’t have her usual support system there. Still, this was about Lando too, and she wanted to focus on making sure he had the best time.

The night of the party had been a whirlwind. Lando was glowing, his energy infectious as he mingled with everyone, laughing and sharing stories. She stayed by his side for most of the night, smiling softly at his friends and the team members who came over to greet him, though she noticed the conversations were always directed toward him and never her. It stung, but she pushed the feelings aside. Tonight was supposed to be fun.

After hours of laughter, music, and food, the party wound down, and as the guests began to leave, Lando took her hand, guiding her toward a large table piled high with presents.

“Look at all this,” he grinned, his eyes twinkling as he took in the sight. “I think we’re going to need all day tomorrow to open them.”

She chuckled softly, nodding in agreement. There were a lot of gifts, far more than she had expected. She didn’t think either of them would need much, but it was still heartwarming to see how much effort people had put into celebrating them.

Or so she thought.

The next day, after a lazy morning spent in bed, they finally sat down to open the gifts. Lando was practically buzzing with excitement, while she was content to sit beside him, happy to enjoy the moment with him.

The first few presents were exactly what she had expected—personalized items for Lando. Some McLaren-themed memorabilia, a few playful gag gifts from his friends, and even a sleek, custom helmet from one of the drivers. She watched with a soft smile as he unwrapped each one, his grin widening with every thoughtful present.

But as more and more gifts were opened, a realization slowly started to creep in. Every single present was for Lando.

She tried not to let it bother her at first. After all, Lando was the one who had more friends here, the one with the larger circle. It made sense that most of the gifts would be for him. But as the pile grew smaller and not a single gift was addressed to her, the hurt became harder to ignore.

There wasn’t a single present for her.

Not one.

By the time they reached the last box, she felt her heart sink. She had tried to stay positive, tried to convince herself that maybe someone had forgotten to label a gift, or maybe they’d gotten mixed up in the rush of the party. But no. Every gift had been intentionally for Lando, and her name hadn’t even been a second thought.

“Wow,” Lando breathed as he looked at the collection of gifts surrounding them. “That was… that was a lot.”

She nodded quietly, trying to keep her smile in place. Her hands fiddled with the ribbon from one of the opened boxes, trying to distract herself from the growing ache in her chest.

“Hey,” Lando said softly, noticing her quietness. “You okay?”

She glanced up at him, his blue eyes filled with concern. She could see how much he cared, how much he genuinely wanted to make sure she was happy. It wasn’t his fault that his friends had overlooked her. It wasn’t his fault that she felt so out of place among them.

“Yeah,” she whispered, forcing a smile. “I’m fine. I’m just… happy for you. You got so many cool things.”

He frowned, clearly not convinced by her answer. “But you didn’t get anything.”

Her stomach twisted, and she hated that she was the one bringing down the mood. “It’s okay, Lando. Really. Today was for both of us, but I know how important you are to them. It’s fine.”

But it wasn’t fine, and he could tell. His brows furrowed as he scooted closer to her, taking her hand in his.

“Hey,” he murmured softly, lifting her chin so she would look at him. “It’s not fine if you’re upset. You’re important too. To me.”

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away. She didn’t want to cry, not over something as silly as gifts. But the hurt wasn’t just about the presents. It was about everything—the way his friends never really accepted her, the way she always felt like an outsider in his world.

“I just…” She swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. “I just feel like they don’t see me. Like I don’t belong here. I know I’m not outgoing or loud or… like them. But I try, and it never seems like it’s enough.”

Lando’s expression softened, and he pulled her into his arms, holding her close.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered against her hair. “I didn’t realize how much this was affecting you. But I promise, you do belong. You belong with me.”

His words were warm and comforting, but they didn’t erase the ache entirely. Still, being in his arms made her feel a little better. She rested her head against his chest, taking in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“You’re the most important person to me,” he continued, his voice gentle but firm. “And if my friends can’t see how amazing you are, then that’s their loss. I love you, and that’s what matters.”

She smiled softly, her heart swelling with love for him. Lando always knew how to make her feel better, even when the world around them felt like it was crumbling.

“I love you too,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other’s warmth. The gifts, the party, the friends—they all faded into the background as Lando held her close, reminding her that she was loved. And in that moment, that was enough.

୨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, love’s! Hope you all enjoyed it. If there is something wrong or need to be edited, let me know!

[seospicybin]

THE BABYSITTER.

FINAL PART.

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

Chapters: Part I / Part II

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The knot in Felix’s chest tightens. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up, Hyunjin.” 

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Movie!” Aster cheers, clapping his hands. 

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

“Mmhmm,” Aster promises with an eager nod. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

“Come on, Bubba. Let's play!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aster’s got a good arm.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eggie!” Aster says proudly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And don’t forget to—” Felix prompts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You kiss him back.

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

“Enjoying that, bub?” Hyunjin asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thirsty?” Felix asks, tilting his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just relax...” he suggests.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

“Thanks,” you say with a nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No worries,” you reply lightly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

You chuckle. “I’ll manage.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But life moves forward, and so must you. 

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

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

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

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

-

EPILOGUE

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

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

“Who is it?” you ask. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t hesitate. “Of course!” 

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

“How’s Hyunjin?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You lean forward, listening intently. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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[onlymexsarah]

Burning Flames IV | Eris Vanserra

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Archeron!reader Summary: Since you became High Fae there were only two things that scared you: your deadly power and your attraction toward the male you should hate most after Tamlin, Eris Vanserra. Warnings: mention of smut, Eris Vanserra being Eris Vanserra, my english and probably spelling mistakes since I'm also sick A/n: I apologize for my lateness, but uni is kinda taking all my time away. I was dying with the need to write about this scene, and I hope you'll like it🫶🏻 if you want to be add at the taglist just ask! Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5

"Eris is coming to the Winter Solstice celebration at the Hewn City." Rhys informed the Inner Circle while you were discussing alliances for the probable war against Briallyn. "He's shaken by Tamlin catching you two meeting with him," he nodded toward your twin and Cassian. "and wondering if we'll balk from the alliance now that there's the slim chance Tamlin might reveal it. Or decide to sell him out first. We need to remind Eris of our continued commitment, and that he is...important to us. That we have his back."

You heard Cassian snarling with disgust while your sister Feyre echoed the expression.

"So buy him a present," Feyre said, waving a hand. "and tell him we all send our love."

You snorted amused at that. "Don't you have some old, dusty jewels? Give him one of those." You said obvious while you rested your arm on the chair's back..

"He'll want more than that." Rhys said, mouth twiching, and his eyes fell upon Nesta.

Nesta. Rhys wanted to use Nesta to win Eris over. The thought alone made you sick. Why her? Why Rhys thought that Nesta alone could make Eris swung at her feet? He had saved your life, not hers. Actually, he would have let Nesta die if it hadn't been for you and Elain.

But of course, Rhysand couldn't know that. No one knew Eris had saved your life during the war, and strangely enough Eris had never bragged himself nor made any comment.

From what Cassian had said it had seemed that Eris had been interest in flirting with your twin, and you had to admit, he had never tried to flirt with you in any occasion. Actually, he had tried to break your patience. So it did make sense, you supposed. Nesta was the most logical choice.

"You want me to dance with Eris?" asked Nesta caution.

"I want you to seduce him." Rhys' words made your stomach twisting with an unease sensation. You didn't know why you were reacting like that, and you told yourself that it was because you didn't want Nesta close to someone like him. It wasn't because the thought of Eris giving his full attention to someone who wasn't you made you sick. No, you could never want something like that. Someone like him.

"You really think that Nesta's dancing with Eris will solidify his loyalty?" you hadn't meant to make the question sound so...disgusted, but thankfully no one seemed to notice. Actually, most of them echoed your tone.

"I think Eris is our ally, and will expect to dance with a lady of this court at the ball no matter what." Explained Rhys to you, probably mistaking your disgust for worryness. "I won't let Feyre within five feet of him, Mor might kill him, and Amren is more likely to scare him off than win him over, so you, Nesta and Elain are the only options, but from Cassian's report Eris hadn't seem too friendly with you."

Cassian should learn when to shut up, you thought annoyed. Of course Cassian would say that, because Eris had made sure to annoy you at the meeting with Lucien, Vassa and Jurian.

"Was Cassian wrong?" asked Rhys carefully, reading something in your eyes that you quickly hide.

"No." You said with a lazy smile. There was no point in telling them what had happened during the war, probably Eris had already forgotten it too. "He was completely right."

Rhys watched you for few more seconds with his violet eyes that sometime seemed like they could look right inside your soul and read it. You checked your mental shield and found it intact, the fire that you pushed down burned brightly around your mind, protecting it.

***

The black dress you had chosen for the night fell comfortably over your body as you walked down the hall of Hewn City's palace. You had opted for something elegant yet less reveling than Mor's and Feyre's. The straps fell lightly down your shoulders, the bodice had a sweetheart neckline with what looked like black flames over your collarbone. You still had to decide if it was a hint that Rhys knew about your power still lingering in your body, or it was for pure imagine. The flames seemed to fell down your body in a lovely silky gown that captured the lights with each step.

Unfortunately, you now had to wear gloves, because the burned scars had expanded all over your hands, and the gloves was the only way to hide them. Thankfully, since it was winter no one ever questioned them, and tonight you had put some long, black, silky gloves that matched your skirt.

You were currently behind Rhysand and Feyre, between Elain and Nesta as the two of them still were on no speaking term. Tonight was a show of power, with your sister's pregnancy annouce and your twin's beauty offered on a silver plate for the Heir of Autumn.

You had appreaciated how Elain had wanted to come, and it didn't go unnoticed to you that she had opted to wear a plain dress with just two pearls in her hair to not outshine Nesta. Elain had always been the prettiest of the four of you, but tonight it was Nesta's time to shine, and she had gladly disguided herself as plain and boring.

As you entered the throne room every eyes fell on you. Not on you, actually. On your sister's swollen belly. You heard gaspes and whispers all around you. Keir's looked torn between anger and shock, and you had to hide an amused grin.

As your eyes scanned the room with a bored expression, you took you ropportunity to look at the redhead beside Keir, knowing he would be too focus on your sister to notice your staring, but as your eyes fell on the him you found two green pounds already staring at you.

Eris was looking at you. Not at Feyre. Not at Nesta, the one supposed to catch his attention. He was looking only at you, and you hated how your heart skipped a beat.

He looked at you like he could admire you for the first time, and somehow it was true. You both knew that no one would notice your staring at each other, because everyone's attention was on Feyre.

You used every second to drank the sigth of him. Eris was dressed in Night Court black, and you could be damned for how handsomely he was. He looked like the darkest of the dark dreams that someone shouldn't have. That someone be you.

That game was dangerous, you realized. Those stolen glances, stolen moments would lead you only in a dangerous territory. But danger looked so appealing when he let his eyes slowly roam all over your body.

For a moment you felt more naked than Mor and Feyre.

Eris must have noticed the black flames on your dress because he slowly grinned. It wasn's a mocking grin, it wasn't even amused. It was one of Eris' grin that you still had to classify.

His eyes met yours again, and he did the last thing you had expected. He winked at you. He fucking winked.

You felt your cheeks getting warmer and you quickly looked in front of you again, dismissing him as if nothing had happened, and for a moment you wished it hadn't.

As Feyre and Rhysand sat on their thrones, you and your sisters went to stand at the foot of the dais, between Cassian and Azriel who looked like they could kill anyone watching at any of you in a wrong way.

Keir and Eris scuttled forward, and while the former bowed, you pointly avoided to look at the latter. "Allow me to exted my congratulations." said Keir and you knew that he didn't mean a word of it.

"And allow me to extened mine as well," said Eris with a voice that could warm even the coldest spot of the Winter Court. "on behalf of my father and the entire Autumn Court. He shall be thrilled by this news."

Rhysand mouth curled in a cruel half smile, the stars winking iut in his eyes. "I'm sure he will."

Sometime you forgot how powerful and cruel Rhysand could be. He was always gentle and kind with you, with all his family. But the moment that something threated Feyre's life? He become feral, and you were glad for it. You were glad Feyre had found Rhysand.

They gave the crowd some command to make it loose, and when Eris did to follow Keir Rhysand stopped him. "Before you join the merriment, Eris, I'd like to present you with your Solstice gift."

A long black box appeared in his hands, and you tried your best to hide your confusion. Rhysand had never spoken of other gifts beside Nesta, so what was all of this about?

As the box flew to Eris and he opened it you could see the dagger that Nesta had made. You hold your breath as Eris's face went pale. "There's flame in it." He said. "Why give this to me?"

"You're our ally, " Feyre said, a hand resting on her belly. "You face enemies that exist outside of the usual rules of magic. It seemed only fair to give you a weapon that operates outside those rules, too."

You cursed in your mind as Eris understood that the dagger was Made and started to question Rhysand. Eris culd be the monster of everyone's story, but he was no idiot. Actually, you had the suspicious that he might be smarter than he let the other see.

“Ordinarily I would ask you to dance," said Feyre kindly. "but my condition has left me unwell enough that I worry about what so much spinning would do to my stomach.” It was the truth. Feyre had bolted from dinner three nights ago to find the nearest toilet. Now she looked at you and your sisters, as if deciding who would dance with him.

You looked away, not really wanting to see Eris admiring your sister Nesta. You focused your attention on the couples dancing, and you couldn't wait to be among them. You didn't have the same passion as Nesta, but you had always enjoyed it if you had a good partner.

You had asked Morrigan to give you lessons too, just to be able to dance freely with whoever might ask you. It had been fun when you had found Cassian too at Mor's lessons, silently agreeing that you would say nothing about the other.

"One of my oldest sisters shall take my place." you barely heard Feyre's words, knowing she would be gesturing to Nesta, so there would be no point to look away from the musicians.

It was when you heard Nesta stiffining beside you and Elain elbowing you that you looked away and gave the latter a confused look. Elain only inclined her head, pointing to something in front of you.

You furrowed your eyebrow, still confused, and looked where Elain was pointing. Your breath caught in your throat as you found Eris standing in front of you with his hand strechted out.

"If I require right, you are the oldest." He said with that lover's voice that tricked your mind.

You gulped and tried to not let your eyes widining too much as you gave him a nod. "Only by few days."

Why was he not looking at your sister? It was quiet obvious that she was the one planned to be offered to him, the one who looked like a queen. Hadn't Cassian said that Eris had been flirtatious with Nesta? Hadn't Cassian said that Eris seemed to loath you? Then why was he looking like that?

You slowly brought your hand on his, as you had done the day he had saved you, and something about his wicked, sparkling eyes told you he remembered it too.

He brought your hand around his arm, and accompanied you at the center of the dancing floor with a royaly grace. Even throught your gloves you could feel the warmness that his body radiated. A warmness that somehow made your body relax. Hadn't you had asked this to the cauldron? Warm, nice fire? Not the destructive flames that burned inside you.

Eris stopped at the very center of the floor, and you could already feel everyone's gaze on the two of you. What a gossip this would be; one of the High Lady's sisters with the heir of the Autumn Court, dancong at the Winter Solstice.

"Saying that you look gorgeous would be minimalizing." Said Eris as he gently put his free arm around your waist bringing your bodies much closer than they had ever been. "But flames are supposed to be red, not black."

You would have smashed his grin if the violin's hadn't started playing. You put your free hand on his shoulder and rose your chin to meet his eyes, with the fakest, sweetest smile you could master.

You had indeed wanted the dress to be red, because it had always been your favourite colour, but the Night Court's colour was black, and you needed to appear as a unit front.

"I wouldn't want to be mistaken for a member of your beautiful, appealing court." Your tone was soft, not wanting to gain any more stares than what you already had on you, but the sarcasm was there. "I find black perfect for this dress."

You were soo the wrong person to complete the job. Nesta was supposed to seduce him, because Eris didn't rail her up like he did with you. It was impossibile in your mind to even think of being nice with him, let alone flirt.

"What is not perfect is this dance, I'm afraid." he said still with his smirk on his lips. You looked at him confused, and he leaned close to your ear making you hold your breath. "Your High Lord and High Lady look like I have just spilled icy water on them. Aren't you supposed to be the oldest? They seem to think I might eat you in any moment."

His hot breath on your neck made it ashamedly hard to concentrate on what he was saying, and you would never admit to yourself that it was only when he leaned away that you found the capacity to speak again.

"We were all convinced you enjoyed my sister's company more than mine." You managed to say, offering him that truth.

The sound of his dark chuckle was like silk on your skin. His grip on your hadn and waist tightned a little, and you would have ripped his hands away if it would have been any other moment, or any other male.

"And why would I lose time playing with her when I have my perfect match right here?"

Cauldron boils you.

It was a bad, bad, bad, bad thing that you knees almost went weak at his words. It was even worst that your stomach seemed to be dancing its own waltz inside you. It had been so long since someone had touched you like that and hell, no one had ever looked at you like that. Ever.

You told yourself that that was the reason why he was having that effect in you. You had been used to the human's beauty, then you had been too busy to save the world to even notice High Fae's beauty. Eris had just happened to be in the right place at the right time and boom, you were weak on your knees for him.

"Someone might stirr if they heard you calling me your perfect match." You said finding a surprising calm, steady voice. "The future High Lord of the Autumn Court should have no equals."

Something flickered in his eyes as he looked at you with the typical gaze full of secrets. "I have no worries of any equal since you seem so determinated to conceal yourself as a rabbit rather than the dragon that you are."

His words managed to make you shut down every...confusing feeling you had inside and rose your chin a bit higher, watching him with a bored expression. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Is that so?" he slightly tilted his head with the same eyes that a predator used to study its opponent. "Then I take the gloves as the newest fashion in the Night Court? Curious, I don't see many other females wearing them."

He made you do a double spin on your feet before bringing you back against his chest. "I would have thought that a princeling had more important things to think about than the fashion in other Courts." You said coldly.

You hadn't realized that the music had ended until a new dance began and Eris easily led you throught that. It was slower, lighter, but you didn't need to think about the steps; Eris was annoyingly good at leading you.

His eyes darkened a little, as if you had just insulted him. The grip on your hand tightened and you hissed in pain as his fingers pushed into the burned flesh of your palm. "Tell me, it's still about fashion?" He tightened his fingers again and you stepped on his foot angrily.

"Do it again and your father will have to name another heir." you hissed still blinded with pain. Fuck off the whole court him thing; you would have never been good at it nevertless. If Eris wanted to play with you, you would play back.

***

Cauldron boils him.

He was so down bad for you. Never in five hundred years he had met someone who could turn him on just with a glare. And the glare you were giving him was of pure challenge and threat.

He laughed at you. He laughed because it was the only thing he could do. He laughed because the alternative was to see if you would still talk to him like that if he pushed you against a dark corner of the palace, knelt and buried his face under the gown of your dress.

That fucking dress.

You looked like a night Goddess of fire, and the Mother knew how happily he would worship you if given the chance.

But he couldn't. Not until his father was alive. Not until he would be free to let you know the true Eris and let you decide what to do about the bond. Not until you desired him as much as he desired you.

"I would like to see you try without any training." he lightly mocked you, needing to see how far he could push you until you finally gave in and unleashed what you had inside. "But I could make your odds better if you just admit what we both know, Little Flame."

He grinned as he sensed the effect that the name had on you. You face stayed neutral, it was your heartbeat that betrayed you. Eris had to admit it, even if you had just entered the game of scheming, courts and alliances you were doing a great job at it.

"I'm afraid I'm not following you." You said giving the room around you a bored look. He knew you were actually seeing if any of your court was listening to the two of you.

Eris had a vague idea of what would happen if you find out about the bond in the near future. You would be caution about it at first, then after few words with Mor and the Inner Circle you would decide to break it, and why wouldn't you? He was the villain in everyone's story, and he was fine with that. He didn't really plan to change that narrative in your head, yet. But he refused to sit still while you burned yourself in your own power and the Inner Circle did nothing to stop it.

"I could train you." He said suddenly serious. "If you are too ashamed to show your precious family what monstrous power you have, you should have no problem showing it to someone who is already considered a monster."

You arched an eyebrow. "Considered?" you asked ironically. "I recall hearing quiet thrutful stories about you for just considerating what you are."

He didn't pretend to be hurt by your words. He knew exactly what you had heard, what he had done, but obviously you couldn't know the whole true. No one did execpt for one. "Careful to let your new ears believe everything they say about me."

"Because you seem so much more trustfully." You said with a ironic smile that he immediately matched.

"Train with me a day every week, and I'll answer honestly to one question of your choice." He proposed before spunning you on your feet. "Maybe you'll make your own idea of me."

Those beautiful, careful eyes studied him, and he almost knelt right there. "Why would I accept? What do you gain from this?"

His grin widened. "I'm pleased to see that those brutes taught you something useful." He mused. "Let just say I think your power will play a key part to my...succesion on the throne, and I rather have you as my ally than my enemy."

You narrowed your eyes, surely pondering every single word he had said. "I won't do the dirty job for you."

Eris knew you meant killing his father, but of course you couldn't say it out loud since Keir was still around. He admired your quick thinking, and he was extremely glad that you were smart enought to guard yourself around people like himself.

He chuckled lowly. "That is a matter I'll deal with alone." He stated firmly and the fingers on your back lightly caressed you, assuringly. "I just ask for your help when my court will need it."

Eris would never admit out loud that he already know what kind of favour he would need from you. The idea had come up as the two of your were talking, but he knew that if he had proposed it right away you would have left him on the dancing floor without a second thought.

"One day of training everyweek with one question of my choice in exchange of my help, once, when you'll need it with your court?" You carefully stated looking cautionsly in his eyes.

He gave you a grin as he leaned his face closer to yours. "Do we have a bargain, Little Flame?"

He had to call all his hundreds years of training to not close his eyes as your scent hit his nose. It was sweet, like cinnamon and caramel. It was everything he recalled to like, to bring him joy.

He smelled the shift in your scent as your faces were dangerously close, and for the first time he was glad that you were new to this world because otherwise your would have smelled the shift in his scent too. And that, would have bring the two of you in a dangerous situation.

"Yes." you said after a while. He could see that you had thought of every outcome of that bargain, you probably had thought about how to tell the others, what reactions they would have and in how many ways it could end badly. "But you have to stop calling me that."

He laughed. "You should have put it into the conditions of the bargain before you accepted it."

As he said those words he felt something stung on his back. It felt like someone was writing something on his skin with fire. It didn't hurt, it was more like a tickle, and when he saw your hand flying from his shoulder to your back, scracthing the same part on your body that tickled on his, he knew that the bargain had been sealed.

The music ended and he gave you a bow, bringing your gloved hand to his lips. He could smell the burned flash, and a part of him wanted to kill Rhysand to have let you do it to yourself. But he only placed a gently kiss on it, sensing how you, elegantly, shivered and gave you a charming smile.

He studied you for a monent. Your eyes were looking at him with what was not surely kindness, but at the same time was not hatred too. You were trying to find your place in this new, cahotic world, he understood. His eyes traveled on your dress, and his jaw clenched. You would have been a beautiful living flame if it hadn't been concealed with black, somehow a represantion of how you wanted to conceal yourself to fit in that Court.

"Let me begin the training now with a little advise." Eris said still with your hand in his. Your eyes flashed with curious. "Do not follow blindly those who walk in front of you. You might find out that black is not the colout that suits you best."

He didn't wait for you to process his words as he gave you a last, parting smile and turned on his heels, already putting his mask back on. "See you next week, Little Flame." he mocked over his shoulder as he walked away.

He heard you curse him under your breath, and it only made him grin amused. He found it surprisingly fun to rile you up, it was a kind of amusement that he didn't feel with anyone else. He needed it as a reminder that his equal was indeed like him: fierce, smart, witty and always ready to fight when needed.

He walked toward Rhysand and Feyre, still seated on their thrones, already watching him with their calculated eyes. He was sure that they were probably having a mental conversation about what they had seen, and Eris fought the urge to smirk.

"Did you enjoy the company of my sister?" asked Feyre politely with a lazy smile. He had to admit that both her and Rhysand did a great job at acting like the rulers of the Court of Nightmares.

"Your sister's company had been delightful." He said matching her smile. Before asking them what he wanted he was curious to test the waters. "But I'm curious; you showed me what I can have, Rhysand. I'm intrigued enough to ask what you'd want in return."

He saw Feyre's jaw clenching. She would never sold her sister, and surely not to someone like him, but it was still fun to imply just that.

"What do you mean by that?" asked Rhysand not betraying a single thought that was in his mind.

"I mean that whatever you want, I'll give it to you if you promise to keep her safe and away from my father." Eris said suddenly serious.

He saw the confusion flashing on both rulers' face as they surely spoke to each other mind to mind. Eris knew he was letting them see too much, but it was the only way he could be sure that you would be safe as long as his father was alive. They needed to know in what danger you were if his father ever find out what you and Eris were.

"Explain yourself better." Feyre commanded with a cold voice.

He gave her a mocking grin. "You keep your oldest sister away from my father, and train her. and I'll give you whatever you want. You wanted to reassure our alliance? This is the prize."

"I cannot force her in doing anything she doesn't want to, but I can come up with the right arrangment for that." Rhysand said calmly. "But it seems foolish for you to offer me anything I want in exchange for...her safety. Why would you care so much about that?"

He could see that both Rhysand and Feyre were trying to understand what kind of game he was playing, what kind of tricks he had in mind, so he let his mind shield opening a little, inviting them in his head to speak the words that he could not say out loud.

"Because it seems that the Cauldron gave two Archeron sisters to the Night Court, and two to the Autumn Court." Eris said in his mind, knowing that they both were listening.

Feyre's face drained of colours as Rhysand's eyes hardned and his deep, dangerous voice sounded in his mind. "Why should we believe you?"

Eris smirked and let the memory of the day he had saved you fill his mind, letting them see it. He replied the moment the bond stirred inside him, urging him to run toward you. He made them see the exact moment your eyes met and his whole existence screamed the word Mate all over again. He made them see how he had foolishly followed you to the King of Hybern, keeping you safe until you had run to Nesta. He let them see how hard it had been to return to his father and hide eveything, how scared he had been when after the war he had been sat beside his father while you were right in front of him, terrified that any gaze might give him away. The last memory was of when he had found you outside the Autumn Court's camp, and he had been so close to grab you and winnow on the other side of Prythian, not wanting you close to his father in any way.

He stopped the memories just as the one of when you had cured him started to pop in his mind, and watched careful the reaction of the two rulers in front of him. "I cannot risk for the bond to snap for her when my father or any of his allies are close. He would hurt her to hurt me, and despide what you think of me, I won't let it happen."

Rhysand studied him with a heavy, dangerous attention. "I could keep her away from you and have you do anything I want just for the chance to see her, do you realize that?"

A test. Eris knew it was a test, because Rhysand would never do something like that, but still Eris couldn't help but laugh ironically. "It would be the first time you'd do something smart, Rhysand." he tilted his head in a mocking grin.

"You should speak of this matter with Feyre then." Rhysand stated, making a good job at sounding bored. "It's her sister you are mated with."

"I could have your head in any moment if I suspect you to be a danger for her." said Feyre in his head viciously.

"I would like to think that the bond would make your sister miss me a little if you do that." he answered ironically placing a hand on his heart. "But I'll give you everything else you need. After all you are my sister-in-the-cauldron, you might find out you'll have more advantages from this situation than your boring mate."

"Go away before I test that bond theory." threatened him Feyre making his grin grew wider.

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