#note: this was made BEFORE the first chapter SO | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seospicybin · 2 days ago

Text

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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millersfinest · 3 days ago

Text

untethered | e.w

00s!ellie williams & 00s!miller!reader

wc: 7.4k

series: chapter one (you’re here!)

blurb: it’s been awhile since you’ve been back home; in upstate new york where you’ve spent most of your life waking up early and tending to the animals that moo’d and meh’d. after graduation high school, and then college, the city life has stolen most of your attention. enabling you to visit only a handful of times through the years. when your lovely adoptive parents (tommy and maria miller) invite you back for a thanksgiving dinner—a troubled old flame from your childhood manages to get your attention, despite its explosive ending.

cw: lmao flip phones, some vulgar language, ellie cheating on her gf (kind of), the millers, r is a writer, elements of longing, ellie is #1 lesbian yearner in the world, some early 2000s references, thanksgiving, some physical violence, adopted kid trauma (shoutout to all the adopted kids!!), hella angst, repressed emotions, a little bit of mature content, eventual smut.

note: i have too much confidence writing for ellie. but here’s another series im starting because i realized the plot is too much for a single work on here, hence the 7 thousand words ijbol. hope you guys enjoyyy.

It was quieter upstate. Breathable and airy—you missed it more than anything. As much as you loved living in Manhattan, there was nothing like the countryside. Waking up to the sound of birds chirping and roosters crowing. Hearing the excited neighing from the horses you birthed and took care of. It was refreshing to be home again.

And, of course, you missed your parents.

They adopted you as a troubled child, and you’ve considered yourself lucky ever since. Babies and younger children were often the ones to be pulled from inconsistent foster homes, but they chose you. A pierced, attitude-ridden, thirteen-year-old who liked smoking cigarettes because they made you look cooler than you felt. And it helped you cope with the lasting effects of neglectful parents.

That trauma didn’t just disappear once Tommy and Maria entered your life. It was something that grew from nothing, and they were adamant in making your transition as comfortable as possible. You never experienced anything like it before them. Their strictness and structure did the opposite of what most would think. You went from sneaking out and smoking cigarettes to staying up late studying and finishing your favorite novels—still smoking cigarettes, though, but out your window. It was hard habit to break.

Once you realized that they could be trusted and had your best interest at heart, you gave them the right to parent you. Sure, it wasn’t easy. The three of you argued many, many times—but you respected them more than you have anyone else. Really, just for tolerating you.

The Miller’s were always very family oriented and social. Sunday nights always managed to be a grand event—Tommy grilling in the acred backyard, Maria handling the food items that could be cooked inside, and you diligently decorating and setting the table. Football Sundays were always the worst, but they were great memories to think about. That was the first time you met, basically, the love of your life at the time. Ellie Williams.

It was 1995 when you had completely fallen in love with her—only knowing her for around three years. Joel Miller wasn’t really her father, or adoptive father, he was just somebody who took care of her. He owned a guitar shop that sold, obviously, guitars and other instruments alike; as well as holding lessons for those wanted to learn how to play.

The story goes: Joel was working the register on a very slow day when Ellie showed up. There was a shiner on her eye, but she insisted that she was fine—asking for lessons with crumbled cash and dirty coins. She couldn’t afford the lessons on her own, so he gave her a job and proceeded with teaching her how to play.

She grew up similar to you; hidden under the confines of foster care. The only difference was, she was never adopted. At least not until the age of seventeen, when she’d spent so much time with Joel that she had a decorated bedroom in his house. They both had commitment issues, but after Tommy convinced him to do the paperwork… He did. Surprising her on her seventeenth birthday. However, the outcome didn’t really go to plan. Not how anyone would have expected it.

It was 1997 when she completely broke your heart… Not to be cheesy or anything.

Her seventeenth birthday was hosted at your house, on the farm. You knew her the most out of everyone, so you made it your mission to make this the best birthday ever. Decorating had become a hobby of yours after so many Sunday dinners—you spent all day stringing up lights and colorful streamers. Maria helping you out with a homemade cake that said: Happy Birthday Els! You were too anxious to write the words yourself, so you let her do it instead. You were even sure to invite the friends you shared; demanding they each brought presents to show how much they cared about her.

Joel had showed up before she did; just in time so they could all hide and jump out with big smiles on your faces when Ellie arrived. You would always remember the feeling of hearing the rumbling of her truck coming to a stop. And the shy smile on her face when everyone jumped out from behind furniture—blowing birthday kazoo’s. It was picturesque!

Dina had trotted over to her, snapping a blue paper cone birthday hat over her head. While you walked over with her birthday cake in your hands, brightened with seventeen candles. “Happy seventeenth, Ellie.” You had spoken, warmly. A bashful grin spreading onto your lips. She looked at you with such awe in that moment. Blowing out her candles and kissing your cheek, muttering a blushing ‘I fuckin’ love you’.

You knew about her surprise adoption papers before the party had started, excitement running through your veins when Joel meandered toward her—handing her an envelope of hope. Ellie took it, eyeing him, skeptically. “Open it!” You urged—that was your mistake.

Chortling, she broke open the envelope, not caring if it tore. When she pulled out the certificate, reading the words on the page, her entire face dropped. “Adoption papers?” Her eyes squinted in disgust, glaring at Joel. The smile fell from your face, lips parting in slight shock. Her olive eyes glanced around the room, seeing the fallen expressions clouding everyone’s features. Landing on your fallen face, briefly—a look exclaiming, ‘how could you’. Freckled cheeks heating up in embarrassment and… Anger. “Joel, what the fuck?” She blinked at him, shoving the papers into his chest, then storming out of the house. Hands ripping the hat from the top of head, throwing it to the ground. The screen door creaking obnoxiously as she exited. It all happened so fast.

He quickly followed her out, calling for her, desperately.

Awkwardly, you turned to the frozen people around you. “Anybody want cake? It’s german c— chocolate.” You stammered, trying to keep your composure. Looking to Maria and Tommy for some sort of consolation, you frowned, placing the cake on the counter before fleeing to the bathroom.

You clenched at the roots of your hair, pacing around the bathroom. You could hear remnants of a solo screaming match from outside the bathroom window, causing you to grit your teeth. The papers were supposed to be a good thing! Ellie had always been a hothead—easily agitated like a stray kitten is distress. There were even moments where the two of you went at it. Until one of you caved, begging for affection as an apology. Your nerves burned at the idea of her not liking the surprise—was that selfish?

Instead of remaining in the bathroom, you swung open the door with your eyes fixed on the front door. Hands clenched at your sides, you walked through the kitchen, where Tommy tried to liven up the mood by handing out pieces of cake.

He tried calling your name, but you brushed him off, pushing open the screen door with an attitude that could be felt with every step you took. The brisk autumn air hit your exposed skin, the long-sleeve striped shirt not doing much to keep you warm.

Striding around the side of the house, you seen Joel and Ellie having a stern conversation. But by the time your eyes landed on them, they were in a beat of silence. Joel shaking his head with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Ellie had her arms stubbornly crossed, frowning. When her eyes found yours, he turned around to leave. “She’s all yours…” He solemnly sighed, walking back into the house. The adoption papers crumbled up in his hands.

Biting your bottom lip, you approached her with your arms crossed for warmth. “What happened, Ellie?” Your voice dragged, tiredly. There was something always wrong with her. “We just wanted to do something nice for you… Why’d you have to go and ruin it—?”

“Oh, I’m the one who ruined it?” She scoffed, a sneer resting on her lips. “I’m not the one who brought the fucking adoption papers!” Ellie exclaimed, gesturing broadly with her hands. When she was up in arms, she always gesticulated more. “Did you have anything to do with this? Because if you did—“

You interrupted her with scrutinizing glare. “So, what if I did? I thought this would make you happy, Ellie… Don’t you understand?”

“You had me open that in front of everyone knowing what was inside— and you thought that’d make me happy?” Her lips arched in disgust. “Clearly, you don’t know me at all.” Her words were venomous, lips twitching in anger.

There was nobody who understood you more than Ellie, and vice versa. You just got each other because you came from similar backgrounds—that was your glue. You don’t know me at all. That was new.

With your eyes growing warm with tears, your tongue rolled in your mouth. “I spent all day setting this up… For you. Because I love you, Ellie. I don’t know you— that’s bullshit if I ever heard it.” Your voice cracked, but you refused to let a tear run down your cheek. This was no time for tears—if she could get angry, so could you.

“I’ve known you long enough to have some semblance of understanding on why you’re upset, right now— that’s for damn sure.” You paused, averting your eyes to concentrate on keeping your rising emotions at bay. She watched you, cheeks still red with anger. “I’m gonna give you ten minutes— ten, Ellie! If you don’t get your ass back in there in next ten fucking minutes…” You lick your lips, shaking your head. “We’re over. Done!”

Giving a final glare, you turned to head back inside. “I can’t keep dealing with this shit.” You mutter, under your breath.

“So that’s what it is… Dealing with me?” Ellie voiced, a sliver of disappointment slipping in her moment of anger.

Wiping your cheeks, you peered over your shoulder. “What?”

“You got this perfect little life… Huh?” She began, approaching you intimidatingly. “The loving parents, the farmhouse— you became the perfect daughter for them… Gets the grades, does everything she can to appease them. This fuckin’ fantasy world that you chose to live in all because you wanted someone to love you… Fuckin’ pathetic.”

“Ellie…” You warned.

“Well, newsflash, little-miss-perfect— not everybody wants that! Not everybody wants to play pretend for the rest of their fucking life just to be—“

It happened before you could stop it, fists clenching at your sides as she bad mouthed you till oblivion. Your soft spot—and she knew all about that. Both of you grew up as kids who got into fights and disputes more times than anyone could count; you just decided to clean up your act. However, that troubled twelve to thirteen-year-old still resided inside of you. And, in that moment, she wasn’t your doting girlfriend—she was someone punching down on you.

Your knuckles collided with the side of her face, knocking into her cheek bone. Features scowling as if she were a stranger. Ellie stumbled, holding onto her face with surprised eyes. For a second the version of her you loved came through, but she quickly recovered. Her lips curling at the ends, taunting you. “I knew you still had it in you… You’re no better than me.”

There it was.

Not only was it the straw that broke the camels back—it was the truth. The ultimate truth. Behind all of your petty little arguments. Behind all her wild bursts of anger. She was jealous of you. Grunting behind your teeth, you charged at her. Taking the collar of her jacket as her back hit the gravelly ground. Straddling her, you didn’t hear the rushing feet hitting the porch. You could feel her hands settling loosely on your calves, only angering you more. “I did the fucking work— nobody else but me!” Tears poured down your cheeks. “I am better than you. Because I fucking try—“

Arms pulled you off her body, wrapping around your abdomen. It was Tommy, questioning you in your ear, but you weren’t listening. “Everything went to shit because of you! Remember that!” Dina and Jesse rushed to her side, but she only sat up watching you get pulled back inside. They glared at your forced retreat—they were always more friends with her than they were with you.

Tommy released you, with a disappointed sigh. Maria walking inside, shutting the door behind her, frowning. You heaved, looking at all the decorations that mocked you. Sparkling and shining against the dim lights in the room. The barely eaten cake sat on the counter in the kitchen making fun of you—it was all too much.

“What the hell has gotten into you, y/n?!” Maria pointedly, asked. Not really wanting a response.

“What’s gotten into me?! What’s gotten into her—!” You pointed to the door as if she replaced it.

The blond man leaned his elbows on the kitchen counter, bending at his hips. “Well, I don’t think it matters what’s gotten into her if you put your hands on her, Bug.” Tommy spoke, evenly. He was always the calmer of the two. “Did you… Did you put your hands on her?”

Maria stood with her hands on her hips. “What did we say about fighting—? And you don’t hit your girlfriend— you don’t hit the people that you care about!” She scolded, pointing her finger. “We raised you better than that…”

Your lips quivered, guilt setting in. “I didn’t mean to hit her! She wanted— she wanted me to… I swear!”

He glanced at his wife. “She wanted you to hit her?” Tommy deadpanned, pressing his lips into a line.

They both looked at you with separate expressions. Maria clearly overwhelmed with disappointment and utter disbelief. The same look she gave you when she caught you smoking cigarettes at the barn when you were fourteen—when you told her you quit. Tommy had an expression of pity, like he often did. That same look he gave when you had a meltdown at school when you first moved in with them.

More tears began to roll down your cheeks. “Maria… Tommy… She pushed me. Why would she do that? Why would she—“ You began to ramble, knees growing weak. Your strict mother-figure rushed to your side, catching you before you fell. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want to— she was just being so mean.”

Sinking to the floor with you, her hands caressed your hair. Maria looked to Tommy, mouthing for him to go check on Ellie.

Outside, Ellie was dismissing the weary questions from her friends. She’d never seen you act in such an unruly way. Every time she came over, there wasn’t a hair that was out of place on your head. She was always the one acting out, swearing like a sailor. Sure, she knew about your smoking habit, but that was nothing.

Your girlfriend was envious of how everything was panning out for you—college was around the corner. You had an acceptance letter from your dream school, and without a doubt, you were leaving for the city. Leaving her behind to rot in the country. It wasn’t fair!

That adoption letter felt like pity. She wasn’t a fan of that feeling either.

As a bruise formed on her cheek, guilt settled into the pit of her stomach. Ellie had every intention on seeing the side of you that everyone talked about with a past tense that indicated warning. She needed to prove to herself that you weren’t the perfect person she saw you to be—but all that was left behind was remorse and a sore cheek.

She watched as Joel and Tommy stepped aside to talk. Their eyes glancing back and forth between the door and Ellie, as she leaned against her rusted red truck.

“I can’t believe she would do something like that… On your birthday?” Dina shook her head, with her arms crossed.

“It’s not like her…” Jesse narrowed his eyes at the auburn-haired girl. “What’d you do?”

Dina smacked his chest. “Jessie! She’s literally the victim here— domestic abuse!”

He sucked his teeth, rolling his eyes. “I’m not saying what she did was right.” Jessie began. “I’m saying that I know Ellie Williams, and I know how she is— she’s a pusher.”

The bruised seventeen-year-old scoffed.

“Yeah, I said it.” He stood tall, a small smirk playing on his lips. “You’re a pusher. Hell, you’re a professional pusher— you push people for a fucking living.” Dina glared at him, threatening to hit him again. “I mean, there was that one time… When we went into the city for that comic convention, and you completely obliterated Joel for worrying about you—“

The dark-haired, freckled teenager pushed her boyfriend out of the way taking his place. “We don’t have to relive that…”

Ellie rolled her tongue in her mouth. “Look, I know this is my fault…”

“Ellie… You’re the one with the bruise forming on your face.” She reached up, rubbing her cheek. Her wincing under her touch.

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, squeezing her red eyes. “Yeah, and if it weren’t for me— for what I said… I wouldn’t have this fuckin’ bruise.” Ellie peered at where Joel and Tommy were speaking. They were wrapping up, giving brotherly hugs. “I am a pusher… And now my girlfriend hates me.” She pouted, tears welling up in her eyes. The blond Miller waved a hand at her, giving a tight-lipped smile that screamed I’m sorry. “I gotta go…” She pulled her keys from her pocket, getting into her truck.

That was the last full conversation the two of you had. Horrible, but the last. Everything in between then and the present was short and empty. Light conversations that only strangers and acquaintances shared. Letters here and there. It was a dispute that was so nuanced, for the first year after that, Joel barely said a word to you. Which bled into his relationship with Tommy. Maria tried to play middleman, but it didn’t work.

Perhaps, that was the reason you kept your distance. You didn’t want to continue to be the wedge that formed between two brothers. While you loved your parents, they were only a phone-call away. And, in the meantime, you could focus on growing in your career. Focusing on your book writing, instead.

You just wanted to forget about what happened when you were an emotionally undeveloped seventeen-year-old, but every time you seen her face—you remembered. So, avoiding Ellie Williams was a mission within itself.

A mission you were hoping you weren’t going to have to endure this year.

“You know,” Tommy began, sipping his fresh coffee. “Joel’s coming down from Jersey for the week.”

As you looked through the fridge, you snapped your head in his direction. “Is he now…?” You slowly question. Letting the fridge door shut on its own. The blonde woman to his right, sitting at the island counter, chuckled. Flipping through the interior design magazine you brought for her.

“And he’s picking up Ellie from the city.”

“What!” You exclaim, rushing to the opposite side of the counter. Pulling the mug from his lips, a surprised squeak left your throat. “Uh, dad… You forgot to mention on the several phone calls that we had in that last month that Ellie moved to the city.”

Maria perked up, pushing a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, she’s been there for about a year now… Brooklyn, is it?” She looked to her husband for clarification. He nodded, peering up at you with a plain expression.

“A year?! And none of you told me?”

“Bug, you did say that you didn’t want us to bring her up anymore unless you asked.” Maria stood to her feet, meandering to the stove and oven. “But that does remind me… They should be here in a few hours. Wanna help with the brownies?” She preheated the oven, walking around you casually.

Your mouth fell open, glancing between the two of them. “Okay, so they get brownies, and I get the worst news of my life…” An apron with your nickname embroidered on the front, Bug, hung in your mother's hand as an offering. “Yes, I’ll help with the brownies— this is very cruel to your very successful daughter.”

Tommy waved his hand, dismissively. “C’mon, that incident happened years ago now. You’re twenty-five, I’m sure she’s gotten over it.”

Tying the string around your neck and back, you pressed your lips into a line. It wasn’t really about her—you weren’t over it. You still harbored the same guilt you felt when you settled in your room that night. A crazy mixture of resentment and remorse all rolled up into one feeling; as you settled in your reading nook, with your hand out the window holding a burning cigarette with your index and middle finger. “I’m sure she has…”

Eventually, you switched the conversation around while baking. Falling into fits of laughter from mentioning past stories of your teenagehood. Teaming up with Maria to make fun of Tommy and his aging—all of a sudden, he was beginning to have a knack for playing a checkers. Only old people enjoyed playing checkers. Then, the waiting began.

To busy yourself, you pulled out your computer and brought it to the porch. Even though, you were taking some time off at your publishing job; when it came to your book writing, you had an agent to keep flooding your inbox with emails. Telling you to do this and do that—it was obnoxious. But you did as she asked anyway.

Typing away, a puff of nicotine fled from your lips. Murmuring under your breath, the words that were populating on the screen. On your hip, your phone rang, causing you to throw your head back in slight agony. Something always interrupted you when you were flowing. Flipping open your phone, the decorative chain swinging around as you placed it against your ear. “Hello,” You spoke, stubbing out your cigarette.

It was your roommate and closest friend, Sierra, complaining about the neighbors. Her strong long island accent echoing through the phone. “Oh, my God— they’re so loud! You’d think gettin’ an apartment in a nicer building would thicken the walls.” She groaned on the other end. “Please, come back. At least to tell them to shut up, and then you could go back upstate.”

“Why don’t you… I don’t know…” You shut your laptop, replacing your butt with the boxy electronic. Strolling to the far end of the porch, leaning your arms against the bannister. “Tell them yourself?” An amused smile spread on your lips.

Sierra paused. “Because that’s your job. I’m the nice one, remember?”

“Okay, well I can’t leave. I just got here, and I’m not spending another grand on taxi fare.”

“I’ll spot you.” You could hear her smile on the end.

“Sierra, I’m not coming back until Saturday. So, your only options are to either bang on their door— telling them to shut the hell up— or you suffer listening to their relentless daytime sex.” As you spoke, a truck began rolling up the driveway. Identities unclear due to the intense window tint, but you knew exactly who it was. However, there were three heads in that truck.

She groaned on the other end of the line. “Ugh! I hate you—“

“You love me!” You grinned, but it dropped right off your face when the people exited the vehicle. From the driver's seat, it was Ellie; then, it was Joel who exited, seemingly in conversation. And, finally, a girl stepped out of the vehicle. Joel noticed you leaning against the bannister on the porch, waving his hand with a smile.

Your muscles reacted, waving a fleeting hand. “Maria, Tommy! They’re here!” You yell loud enough to be heard through the screen door. You were always insecure about calling them by their parental titles in front of people—let alone new people.

“You’re yelling in my ear, hon. If you gotta go just tell me.” Sierra complained.

“I gotta go.”

Before she could say her goodbyes, you shut your phone, sliding it into your back pocket. Your parents came out of the house in high spirits; Maria clapping her hands, excitedly, embracing Ellie. Tommy giving a firm bear hug to Joel, laughing heartily—at what? You were unsure.

Awkwardly, you stood there. Smiling with your hands held in front of your body as if you were presenting a project.

Joel looked to you, approaching you with open arms. “Look at you,” He began, wrapping his arms around you, warmly. “All grown up.” He pulled back to get a better look at you, nodding proudly.

“Yeah…” You tapped his shoulder. “You, too.” A chuckle fell from your lips.

Then, you looked to your right at the freckled girl with her arm around a feminine stranger. However, you couldn’t indentify her before you did Ellie. Her auburn hair was pulled into a low bun, with pieces framing her gentle features. Her round evergreen, tinted with slivers of brown, eyes. Freckles decorating her cheeks, bridge of her nose; the beauty mark under left eye—

“Hey,” Ellie drawled out the greeting, awkwardly. Leaning in for a hug that teetered back and forth until you reciprocated.

You kept that same plastered smile on your lips, wrapping your arm under hers. “Hey, Ellie.” Pulling back, you finally looked at the girl beside her. She had tattoos and piercings and looked so much cooler than you. “Who’s this?”

Her earthy eyes widened. “Oh, this is, uhm, my girlfriend, Cat.”

The only response you could give was a nod and a half-hearted wave. It was like a dramatic record scratch in your head. But your parents took over with the rest. Guiding everyone inside to the warmth. Tommy remained outside, giving you skeptical eyes. “Help me with the bags…”

“Honey, don’t be weird about this.” He spoke, as you followed him to the truck.

“I’m not being weird.” You whined, gravel crunching under your feet. “Seriously, what’s to be weird about?” Reaching into the open trunk, you pulled out luggage’s and duffle bags. This was a lot of stuff for a week stay—they brought more than you did.

He gruffly breathed, pulling up the handle of one of the suitcases. “You’re my daughter, I know you— just sayin’…”

“Oh, my God— please!” You complained, hooking the duffle over your shoulder, pulling one of the luggage’s. Leaving him to follow you toward the porch.

Dinner had come quicker than you had hoped. If anything, if you could magically skip over the thing, and still eat, that would’ve been perfect.

All six of you sat at the dining table, forks and knives scratching at ceramic plates. Tommy and Joel had gathered in the back, last minute to cook up some steaks. And, to busy yourself, you helped Maria with the sides while Ellie and Cat got situated in the guest house.

“So, y/n, how’s the book comin’ along?” Joel wondered, putting a cut piece of steak into his mouth.

You made a surprised sound as you chewed your food, rushing to swallow. “Shit, you’re writing a book?” Ellie questioned, leaning her elbows on the table.

Taking a sip of water, you decided to respond. “Yeah, I’ve been working on it for a while.” Your eyes glanced at her, then moved on, quickly, to Joel’s. “It’s… Coming along.” A bashful laugh fell from your lips, as your hand reached for the glass of wine. It was barely touched, red hue swishing in the bulb of the glass as you took a sip. It’s fruity bitterness relishing over your tongue.

“What is it— like fiction or…?” Ellie pressed, genuinely.

“Non-fiction. A book of essay’s, really— written in different forms.” You nodded. “It sounds boring…”

Ellie shrugged, forking a piece of meat into her mouth. “Doesn’t sound boring to me.” She responded, with her mouth full.

“It’s the farthest from boring, honey.” Maria massaged your shoulder, sharing a small smile. You mirrored her in return, forking at the vegetables on your plate—perfectly steamed broccoli.

“How’s Brooklyn treating you?” You spoke up, raising your eyebrows.

Ellie lightly glared at Joel before answering, placing her utensils down. “It’s certainly treating me…” She muttered, rubbing her hands together, glancing at her girlfriend.

“It’s a great place for art, but just not Ellie’s art.” Cat chuckled, sipping from her wine glass.

“Oh, that’s what you’re doing.” You nod.

“I recall her using the words: too crowded.” Joel used air quotes to briefly describe the past conversation.

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “It makes me feel crowded— the city. When you say it like that, it makes me sound fucking stupid, Joel.”

“You did say crowded.”

“Well, I meant overwhelmed.”

You snickered at their bickering, leaning back in your chair. “Back to your art, I guess you’re experiencing the artistic equivalent to writers block?” Tommy inquired, still chewing on his steak, raising an eyebrow. The auburn-haired young woman nodded, chuckling to herself. “That’s why you’re stayin’ with us for a little while, huh?”

Another record scratch.

You blinked at you father, deepening your eyebrows. “Wait, what?”

Joel had set his beer on the table, leaning forward. “Yeah, Ellie’s stayin’ with your parents for a little while to get her juices flowing, again.” He explained, pressing his lips into a soft smile. Ellie cringed at his use of the words juices, taking a sip of her beer.

Tommy and Maria told you nothing unless you asked for it for almost everything now—you at least deserved to know that Ellie was staying on the farm indefinitely. After all, when they’re dead and gone, it’ll be yours; so, they could’ve at least told you without you having to ask—that’s big!

“And, I’ll help out so I won’t be sleeping the day away— because I know that I will without a proper schedule.”

“I thought you guys didn’t need a farmhand.” You glanced at your parents, with your eyebrows still deepened with confusion.

Maria chuckled, standing to her feet. “We don’t need anything, but who could say no to a helping hand?” She grabs the empty basket of biscuits from the center of the table. “Anybody want more biscuits?”

“I would love some!” Cat spoke up, holding up a tattooed finger.

“Me too, honey.” Tommy also spoke.

A dry chortle left your lips, leaning against the back of the chair. “Are you staying on the farm, too?” You peered over at the stranger—the girlfriend, with a slight accusatory tone.

Her lips parted a few times before she responded. “Oh, no, I’m going back to Brooklyn. Not much of a country girl.”

Pursing your lips, you nodded, downing the rest of your wine. This week was going to be a doozy. When Maria came back to the table, you snatched a biscuit from the basket, biting into it. There was a perfect crispy layer on the outside, mixed with the perfect gooey, soft innards of the biscuit. “These are so good.” You muttered with your mouth full with its buttery goodness.

On your hip, your phone buzzed. Cursing under your breath, you plucked the cellphone from your belt, flicking it open. It was your agent calling you at eight o’clock at night. “Excuse me, I gotta take this.” You scooted the chair back, pressing the green button. “It’s late, Isa.” You started the call, stalking out of the room like the corporate woman you are. Taking the route up the stairs to your old bedroom.

“I need that new chapter by tomorrow morning— as in, 8am.” She scolded on the other line. “I’m personally reminding you. Since you couldn’t respond to my emails.”

You sighed, shutting your bedroom door behind you. “Isa, I’ve been traveling all day on public transport, and I’ve been trying to have family time— is that not what Thanksgiving is about?”

“You’re writer, hon. You have little bit of family time, then you hermit to finish your work— now, stop giving me grief. Time is of the essence.” Her smooth voice told, chuckling after her words. “I’ll be anticipating you’re new chapter tomorrow at eight! Have a great night.”

“Have a great night…”

Slapping your phone shut, you sighed, running your other hand over your face. Being a writer was relentless—just as relentless as you and your roommate’s neighbors. But, instead of lingering in frustration, you grabbed your heavy laptop and propped yourself on the cushion beside your window—your reading nook. Not forgetting to put a Sade tape inside of your stereo for some background music, before you began to diligently work.

You typed at your computer, rapid clicking sounds filling your ears. Although, it was no surprise that you worked your hardest after the sun set—it was like you had one too many espresso shots.

Every word was coming from the heart, and coincidentally enough, the guests at your home made it easier. This chapter was definitely reflecting the feelings you felt the day of Ellie’s seventeenth birthday. You used imagery and metaphors to describe that feeling of attack—being backed into a corner, having the worst part of yourself brought into the light. And, like most of your pieces, it was dredging it all back up again; the emotions.

That feeling of losing the only person that truly understood you.

Of course, you had a few relationships since then—a few, trying to chase that same feeling you felt when your hands touched. But there wasn’t anyone who could compare to her. How pathetic was it to still be harping on a highschool sweetheart?

Hours passed under the radar. Your parents being the mile marker in your work, knocking on the door to let you know everyone was heading to bed. Too busy with outlining new ideas, you barely spared them a glance, muttering a smooth goodnight.

It was about one in the morning by the time you finished the chapter. Still, it needed some tweaking, but it was good enough to send to your agent for the editor to look at.

Shutting your laptop, you finally took in your old bedroom. Various music artists slapped against your soft pink walls, attached with tape—some corners hanging off. Catwoman figurines lining the back of your large, white, wooden dresser; with comics stacked alongside them. Stacks of old books in the corner of your room, stacked from the floor to the middle of her wall. If you were to stumble into them, they’d experience one hell of a fall.

Suddenly, curiosity struck.

Hopping from the cushioned seat under your paneled window, you looked under your bed. Reaching for an old shoebox that was filled with many, many interesting things. You slid it from under the dusty bed frame, taking it back to that plushy seat you appreciated so dearly. Plucking the top off, you released a sigh. Immediately being hit with polaroids of yourself as a teenager—mostly standing beside, laughing with, and cuddling Ellie.

They were the photos you snatched from your wall after that fight. Oh, she looked the same. Still had that uncertainty in her earthy, olive eyes. You didn’t understand it then, and you most definitely didn’t understand it now. Ellie didn’t have to feel the uncertainty she was used to in foster care. She had people who believed in her—who will always believe in her.

Sifting through, your hands hovered over a letter she wrote. It was an apology letter sent around the time of her eighteenth birthday—almost a full year since the situation. The envelope was ripped open from the day you received it; stained with salty, heartbroken tears.

If only that day never happened…

A startling knock sounded at your window. It was no more than a pebble, which was confirmed when another launched within your sights. Scrunching up your eyebrows, you unlocked it, pulling it upwards. Once you peaked your head outside into the brisk, cool weather, a small smile spread onto your lips.

“Workin’ hard or hardly workin’ up there?” Ellie called from below. “I brought a little somethin’… Thought you could use a break from writing.” She waved a tightly rolled joint in her hands—which could only be seen if you squinted.

The corners of your lips spread wider, feeling horribly nostalgic. “You’re actually a little too late on that front. I finished a few minutes ago,” You pressed your lips into a line, continuing. “But I could never turn down smoke break. I’ll be down in a second.”

Dropping the letter, you scooted off the seat to grab your jacket. Stuffing your feet into the semi-stained Uggs you wore into the ground, before fleeing your bedroom. You didn’t feel the need to sneak down the stairs, but a part of you wanted to—to relieve that feeling of adrenaline you felt in your youth.

Ellie met you at the back door, holding open the creaking screen door as you exited. “I honestly wasn’t sure you still did this.” She chuckled, looking at the ground as you both began to walk away from the house. Putting some distance so the smell wouldn’t upset the elders in the home.

“What? Smoke weed?” You perked an eyebrow. “You think because I went all corporate, I stopped being down?”

“Actually… Yeah.” She responded, nervously snickering.

The two ofyou settled in front of this white-lined shed that was illuminated by the two warm, orange-toned lights on either side of the door. “Well, you’re kind of right…” You admitted, squinting your eyes, embarrassed. It’s hard being known for your adaptability. “I try to keep the pot smoking to a minimum. In the corporate world they test you for it.”

Ellie pulled the joint from behind her ear, placing it between her lips. She shook her head in response to your words. “Says the cigarette smoker…” She joked, eyeing you, teasingly. While she flicked her lighter to burn the tip.

“Hey, they don’t give a rats ass about nicotine— I need to make up for that loss somehow. I’m a writer for christ’s sake.”

When she finally gets it to catch the fire, she took two puffs before passing it to you between her index and thumb. “Where’s Cat?” You innocently questioned, taking a hit of the joint, then looking at it, before taking another hit.

Ellie became rigid, releasing an exasperated sigh from her lips. “The guesthouse, watchin’ some movie.”

You handed her the joint. “What, is she not down?” Mocking your previous words, with amused eyes. However, her demeanor had quickly shifted.

“She gets easily frustrated after traveling all day…” She shook her head in a dismissive way, like she didn’t want any further questions to asked.

“Hm… That’s relatable.”

Silence engulfed the both of you as you passed the blunt back and forth until it was nothing more than a roach. Hearing nothing but the distant wind chimes sounding off on the porch.

Before speaking, Ellie took a deep breath, glancing over at you as if she were nervous to make eye contact. “I hope me stayin’ here for a little bit doesn’t bother you too much.”

Her words were double-take worthy, you looked over at her with expressive eyes—widening, in surprise. “Bother me? Why would it bother me?” You leaned your shoulder on the shed, kicking one leg over the other.

“You didn’t seem like the biggest fan—“

“Ellie, I was surprised. That’s all.” You waved your hand, shaking your head. “I feel like they don’t tell me shit anymore…” Shoulders shrugging, you glance toward the house standing tall in all its glory. “They didn’t tell me about you moving to Brooklyn, either. What does it look like when someone you’ve known your whole life moves to a city you’re actually familiar with and they’re not, and you don’t reach out to help them? I’m only a forty minute train ride away.” You rambled, deepening your eyebrows. “They basically made me look like an asshole.”

You weren’t entirely sure how you’d react if you knew about Ellie’s moving to the big city. Knowing your habits, you’d probably sit by the phone for hours before making the move to give her a call. But, it’s not like you were given the opportunity to figure it out for yourself. Now, it just appeared that you forgot about her—or could care less about her endeavors; which is farthest from the truth.

Her full lips cracked into a smile, chuckling. The auburn-haired woman, mirrored your position, leaning her shoulder against the wooden shed. “Always worried about what you look like…” She muttered, sucking her teeth. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think you’re an asshole— you just didn’t know.” Ellie shrugged. “It’s not like we talk as much as we used to…”

As much as we used to. That kind of stung.

Your eyes averted to the gravel under your boots. “Yeah…” There was an awkward beat that took its place between you. Swallowing, you shooed it away with speaking up. “What about your art? You’re living in one of the most creative cities in the world, and you can’t create?”

She puffed air from her lips, glancing in the direction of the guesthouse, priming her lips. “Okay… Confession— but only if what’s said here stays here.”

“What’s said at the shed, stays at the shed.” You affirm, holding a hand and crossing to fingers. The high from what you smoked clouding your mind, squinting your eyes and loosening your inhibitions.

“Cat and I moved in together pretty early— too early… I needed a roommate and she was the perfect option.” Ellie began, carefully. Olive eyes shifting under the dim light in thought. “I swear ever since I moved in with her… The inspiration to make anything new is fucking gone.” She ran her hand over her hair, which was actually loose without a hair tie. Dusting over her shoulders, pieces pushed behind her ears. “She, you know, hovers a lot— in a sweet way, it’s just irritating because not even her pushing me can be inspiring.”

Your heart skipped a beat; it was hopeful—you really are an asshole! “Damn… So, it’s not the city that makes you feel crowded. It’s Cat.” You hum, nodding your head, taking in your assumption. “And… You think staying here will help? Doing boring farm work?” A chuckle falls from your lips, borderline nervous, borderline humored.

She pursed her lips, raising her eyebrows. “I mean, I spent a lot of time here growin’ up…” Ellie looked at you, knowingly. “It was never boring when we did it together.”

“That’s because we were doing it together. I’m not gonna be here while you’re shoveling horse shit.” You chortled, peering at her through hazy eyes. She giggled and it sounded like music to your ears. It’s been awhile since you heard her laugh from something you said. Weed always did have a way of bringing people together.

“Well, maybe before you go, you could help me out. Jog my memory.” Ellie offered, raising her eyebrows. “It’s either you or suffering through Tommy’s jokes for hours—“

“I don’t mind, but we might have to jog each others memory.”

“Hey, you can take the girl out the country, but not the country out the girl.” She shrugged. “I have faith in you.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, a smile spread on your lips. “You’re still so corny.” Shaking your head, a laugh slips. Wrapping your arms around your body, you acknowledge the cool weather. It pricked at your exposed skin, and even through your jacket. “It’s getting late…”

She scratched the back of her neck. “Yeah, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I appreciate the joint— I needed it.” You pushed off the shed wall, licking your lips. In preparation to meander back toward the house, you rocked on your feet. “There’s some left over biscuits on the counter…” You drawled, but it was all right because Ellie had filled in for you.

“I’m fucking starving.”

Then, the two of you walked shoulder to shoulder back inside. Giggling at stupid jokes, surfing over any of the past debacles you had. Turns out reconvening with your childhood lover wasn’t so bad after all. For now, anyway.

#🪅#millersfinest #ellie williams #lesbian #ellie tlou #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams series

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rafesangelita · 22 hours ago

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₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 WHEN YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW | FOUR

a pogue!sweetheart!reader series by rafesangelita ©

SUMMARY: making the hardest decision you’ve ever had to make in your life, rafe is heartbroken, driving himself to damn near insanity before he decides to do something he should’ve done months ago..

WARNINGS: heavy angst, rafe and ward argue (what else is new?), ward being a raging narcissist

LINKS: series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

WORD COUNT: 1.9k

one week. rafe hasn’t seen you, spoke to you, or heard your sweet voice for one whole week. seven, full length, twenty-four hour days.. and yes he’s keeping count. he got back to your place that evening, fully expecting you to be ready to grab dinner, but as soon as he drove up the gravel path, he felt the pit of his stomach drop. something was off. besides the fact that the light was off outside when you turned it on almost religiously at seven o’clock every single day, he also felt this weird sense of emptiness hit him in the chest. the air was too quiet, too still.

he was already calling your name before he went inside, his knees threatening to give out from under him when he rushed into your room and saw that most of your clothes were gone from the chest drawer by your bed. rafe continued to call for you while he nearly ransacked your camper, even going as far as checking the surrounding brush outside to make sure he wasn’t going crazy. after searching helplessly, he went back inside, his worst nightmare coming true when he saw a folded up paper on the kitchen table, along with a check that was torn in half, and the cell phone he bought you.

the first thing he did was pick up the check, his teeth gritting with anger when he saw ‘CAMERON DEVELOPMENT’ stamped in the corner. of course ward wouldn’t just give up on making him miserable. rafe felt his stomach turn when he saw the amount ward was willing to give away just to have you leave him alone. one hundred thousand dollars.. rafe couldn’t understand it. you didn’t take the money, but you still left? looking over at the other paper, he unfolded it with shaky hands, tears brimming his eyes when he saw your handwriting. this couldn’t be.

please know that i’m doing this because i love you, and i want you to have everything you’ve worked so hard for. i know you’ve dreamed about becoming the man of the house one day, and running and taking over the family business, and i just couldn’t live with myself if you didn’t get to have that because of me. your father has made it clear that i will never be part of your family, and for you, i know family means everything. writing this out right now is killing me. i’m sorry that i’m letting ward get what he wants, but i can’t be the reason why you’ll lose everything if i stay. i’ll be gone by the time you read this, so please don’t look for me.. i won’t be able to walk away from you again.

rafe sat there, rereading your letter as if to make sure it was real. he had so many questions but not enough headspace to think of the answers. despite what your letter said, rafe was back in his truck, flooring it to tanneyhill to cut himself off from cameron development. ward had another thing coming if he thought he could just dangle rafe’s livelihood over his head whenever he pleased. rafe felt like he wasn’t going to be able to relax until you were back in his arms again, his mind racing a million miles per minute just thinking about where you could be right now.

he wasn’t going to look for you until he had all of his shit sorted out, this whole thing with ward being at the top of his list. rafe was seething when he walked into ward’s study, his dad going over paperwork with his glasses low on his nose as if he didn’t just make the love of his life pack up and leave from her own camper. ward barely looked up when rafe slammed your note down on the hardwood of his desk. “read this, look what you did!” he shouted, feeling sick to his stomach as ward all but laughed at the piece of paper.

“this should be the least of your worries, rafe. she’s the one who showed her true colors today by leaving so easily. if i knew all it would take was some pocket change to get her to realize you two never stood a chance, i would’ve thrown that money at her a long time ago.” rafe couldn’t believe how mistaken ward was. the man who swore he knew everything, really knew nothing at all. “yeah? ‘you talking about this?” rafe pulled the torn check from his pocket, “she didn’t take the money, asshole. she left because you threatened to take everything away from me,” he was pacing back and forth now, his skin hot as he continued to yell, “you’re wrong about her and you know it!”

ward stared at the check in disbelief. why the fuck didn’t you take it?

there was a long pause of silence between the two of them, a knowing feeling falling over them both. “this doesn’t mean anything—” rafe was quick to cut him off; “no, you don’t think so?” he laughed, “she wasn’t looking for a handout then, and she isn’t looking for a handout now. this whole ‘all pogues are the same’ bullshit needs to stop. i’m gonna go look for her, and when i find her, there isn’t anything you can do about us being together, i guarantee that. cut me off, take me out of my co-ownership, i don’t want nothing to do with you.” ward shot up from his chair, rounding the side of his desk before fisting rafe’s shirt between his knuckles.

“what did you say?” rafe glared down at his father, seeing him for the man he truly was for the first time in his life. he stared in the eyes that were supposed to reflect his own, nothing but greed and hatred evident in those cerulean orbs. he’ll be damned if he let his father run his life and his own son see’s him with the same look one day. rafe decided right then and there that the vicious cycle of ego and pride would be ending with him. no more miserable generations, no more painful relationships. “i said cut me off. i don’t need your money, nor do i want it. everything you’ve ever threatened to take from me was never truly mine. everything except for y/n.”

pushing ward away with a shove to his chest, rafe was halfway out of ward’s study before his father shouted. “if you walk out that door, you could forget about ever coming back!” just then, wheezie walked in, her eyebrows knitted with worry. “this is all my fault, isn’t it?” her chin was wobbling as she stepped between the two of them. rafe was quick to pull her into a hug, shushing her as she cried. “no, this was bound to happen. look, keep my number, okay? just because me and this sick son of a bitch aren’t talking anymore, doesn’t mean me and you aren’t. i’ll call you everyday, alright?”

wheezie shook her head, clinging tighter to her older brother as ward went to pull her away. rafe made his way out of the room with tears rolling down his cheeks at the sound of wheezie yelling for him not to leave, his nostrils flaring with anger when he realized that ward was willing to let all of this happen, let others hurt all because he was too selfish to see a vision that wasn’t his own. walking away from him was ensuring that rafe would never be anything like him. rafe got in his truck and drove back to your camper where he would be staying at until he got you back.

not knowing where to start, or who to ask about your whereabouts, he spent the next seven days driving all over kildare island. he went to the icecream parlor where you worked and asked your boss if he had heard anything from you, or seen you at all, but he was just as concerned when rafe told him he was looking for you. he went to the country club and asked the bartender if he had seen you go in there recently trying to sell cookies or something, but to no avail, no one had any idea. it was like you disappeared into thin air. just as he was going to break down on the last day, he found himself in the port where the ferry ran their twenty-four hour service.

then.. it clicked.

you had to have left kildare altogether, the island simply wasn’t large enough to keep you two from seeing each other again. it’s the only thing that made sense. without a second thought, rafe parked on the ferry and waited until it finally started moving, quickly googling the cheapest and nearest motel on the mainland. sure enough, a bed and breakfast that was only two minutes away from the drop off station popped up. he needed you to be there, he needed to take you home already. the next fifteen minutes felt like it dragged on forever, his heart racing at the thought of finally seeing your face again, and getting confirmation that you were at least okay and safe.

once the ferry reached the check point, he sped off in the direction of the motel, his fingertips itching as he rushed over. when he got there, the parking lot was almost empty, only a few cars parked sparsely around the front. “please be here..” he whispered to himself, jumping out of the driver’s seat and making his way inside. the guy behind the counter sat there unbothered, his dull expression seemingly dragging the mood of the entire place down. it smelled like coffee, cigarettes and old paper. “can i help you?” without pulling his attention away from the outdated television in the corner, rafe nodded.

“uhm, yeah— look, i need to find out if someone i know is checked in here right now.” the guy shook his head, finally sparing rafe a glance. “i can’t tell you that information, my bad, man.” rafe’s fists clenched at his sides. “you don’t understand,” he leaned forward, “i’m this girl’s boyfriend, and i’m concerned about her whereabouts.” he explained. shrugging, the guy eyed the check-in sheet just within his arm’s reach. “again, that’s not my concern.” rafe felt his eye twitch, muttering a ‘fuck it.’ before grabbing the check-in book and going back to the last page.

the guy was about to get up and take the clipboard but rafe shot him a glare before he could make another move. skimming the pages until he landed on an entry date from exactly one week ago, his heart stopped for a second when he saw your name next to ‘ROOM # 22’. tossing the clipboard back on the desk, rafe ran out and looked for your room number on the outside of the countless rows of doors.

“nineteen, twenty, twenty-one.. twenty-two..”

he skipped multiple steps as he booked it up the stairs, eyes zeroing in on the room door that sat at the end of the walkway. rafe was breathless by the time he stood outside, his chest rising and falling as he knocked.

“y/n?!”

your eyes shot open. “y/n, are you in there?” rafe’s voice was loud and clear, your eyebrows knitting in confusion when you peeked out of the blinds. you couldn’t help the tears from forming in your eyes, your fingers scrambling to get the locks open. as if you couldn’t already believe that rafe was standing in front of you, you felt the world come to a standstill when he looked at you with an indescribable look on his face.

“rafe?”

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cherryswisherz · 2 days ago

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KARMIC BALANCE ✷ CHAPTER III

✷WARNINGS cursing, pining??? idk. mention of the nd game and h*annah h*dalgo

✷NIYAH SPEAKS aye we back! this one is just paiges pob

✦✦✦✦

SENIOR YEAR

We lose to Notre Dame every year.

Every. Fucking. Year.

And now that I’m home in Storrs, looking at everyone as they try to mask their disappointment, I feel the loss even more.

Which is why I’m walking around in the middle of night, the December air biting into my skin. I can’t stop thinking about everything that went wrong. Why everything went wrong.

I honestly have no fucking clue why, but I know what went wrong. Everyone does. Our defense was lousy, our shots were horrible, we got too tired. I could go on, but that won’t fix anything.

I find myself at Xavi and Janes house before I realize it. I tell myself that it’s because Yanna’s there, and not because of the wisdom that Xavia seems to have about every aspect of life.

When Xavia opens the door wearing a smile and a moo moo, I ignore that bubly feeling in my chest and ask to come in.

Once inside, I see her apartment is almost completely dark. The big lights are off, the living room being lit only by a candle and two lamps in opposite corners.

“So, what’s up P?” Xavi asks, running her hands down the silk of her moo moo. “It’s almost midnight and you’re usually dead to the world by 9.”

Knowing that Xavia knows my bedtime makes me smile for reasons I don’t want to admit.

When I first met her, Xavia was like a mystery. She was funny and smart and absolutely fucking beautiful. She’d apologized for making a false assumption about me. It was the first and only time anyone had ever done that and I never forgot it.

When she and Jane started coming around more, I forced myself to swallow the want I had to learn more about her, to learn from her because I knew that if I’d gotten to the root of who she was, I’d be even more enthralled than I already was at that point.

Eventually my heart stopped beating so fast around her. I’d stopped avoiding being within 3 feet of her and trained myself to treat her like I’d treated all my other friends.

Because that’s what she is. My friend.

It didn’t matter that her not worshipping ground I walked on excited me. It didn’t matter that almost every conversation we had alone rested in the back of my mind at all times.

Xavia is my friend and that’s all she’d ever be.

“Yeah I know. I just can’t get the ND game outta my head and I thought Yanna would be here to talk to.”

I’m lying and I know it. Whether Yanna was here or not, I would have found a way to talk to Xavi. I always did. Not because I wanted to be around her, but because she always had the answer to whatever problem that I have. Anyone would do the same if they’d stopped to pay attention when she was trying to get a word in.

“Oh, yeah, she’s not here.” Xavi pointed a thumb to the back of her house, where Her and Jane’d bedroom’s were. Her locs swayed with the turn of her head. “Her and Jane went to Urgent Care cause she hit her shoulder on the wall and-” She waves her hands anxiously, as if she doesn’t feel like explaining a complex situation. “It was a whole thing. I’m sure you’ll hear about it tomorrow.”

I know I should be worried about my teammate who can’t seem to stay healthy. And I am. I make a mental note to check in on Yanna at some point, but right now, I’m thinking of a way I can stay and talk to Xavi without making it a thing.

“Oh…” is what I came up with.

“You can talk to me?” Thank. God. “ If you want.”

Of course I fucking want. It’s all I’ve done for the past three years.

I want to be a better person.

I want to be 19 again and do everything differently.

I want to win the championship this year.

But all those wants are null and void for the biggest want of all.

I want to get drafted to the WNBA.

And I’ve made too many shitty decisions to get there to just throw it all away. So what if I’m miserable?

“Uh, yeah. That’s cool.” I play off my desperation and take a seat on her orange bean bag.

Xavi plops down on the couch in front of me, crossing her legs and folding her hands. All her attention is on me and a part of me feels like I don’t deserve the attention of this amazing woman. But a bigger part is screaming that this is how it should be.

Me, admiring every part of her, and her, willing and ready for anything I give her.

Of course, in this situation all she wants is to know what’s on my mind, but I would give her whatever else she could think up.

“So whatcha thinkin ‘bout?” She asks sweetly.

Her voice isn’t obnoxiously high. It’s kinda deep and mellow, just like she is.

“Um… I just can’t get over everything.” I shake my head and look at my hands. Hands that are supposed to get me everywhere I want in life. “Like, I get why we lost. What we did wrong on the basketball front. But we were off the other day. We’d run those plays over and over again in practice. Studied film. We should have been prepared, but we were just off. Like no matter how hard we tried, we just couldn’t get there.”

Xavia nods her head like she understands everything I’m saying.

“Like everything was against you guys?” she questions.

“No. I don’t think that anything was unfair. I think that our all just wasn’t enough.”

“Well, I know you can’t speak for anyone else, and I’d never ask you to. But why do you think you were off that night?”

She sounds like a therapist. The kind that isn’t just trying to fix you, but trying to understand you. The kind that hangs on to every word, but not to hold it against you.

“I don’t know. I just kept getting madder and madder and it threw me off. I did everything I was supposed to do.”

She looks confused now. “What do you mean ‘supposed to do’?”

“Like everything I thought was right. Everything I've always done.”

“Maybe that’s the issue.”

Now I’m confused.

“What?”

Following my routine has taken me and my team to the Final Four, and for Xavi to tell me it’s wrong stings a little.

“Maybe doing everything you’ve always done isn’t the answer. Paige, you’re a somewhat mature adult. Do you honestly think you’re right all the time?”

What does she mean ‘somewhat’ mature?

“...No?”

“Right.” Xavi sounds so sure of herself, leaning in and starting to talk with her hands like she does when she’s talking about her coursework or something equally as interesting to her. “It’s impossible to be right in every situation because every situation is different. When you throughout your daily life, do you treat every person the same? Do you go into every conversation with the same mindset, expecting the same outcome?”

I mean most people are the same, so what else am I supposed to do?

“Kinda, yeah.”

“Well that’s no bueno, babe.” She huffs out, pointing at me. Then, she entrances me again with her hands as she speaks. “ Every human is different. They have different pasts, and different views. Even if the difference between one person and another is miniscule, it’s there. And that difference is why it’s so important that we don’t generalize people.”

I know she’s stopped talking but I’m so caught up in her voice, and her hands and her face, and her to contribute to the conversation.

“Are you understanding?” She asks, seemingly genuinely concern with whether I’m comprehending what she’s telling me.

And the answer is no, I’m not understanding. Whether there’s a differenc eor not, each person want the same thing and should be dealt with the same, based on what they want.

This is the code fucking live by,a nd she’s sitting her debunking it in the most intellectual, attractive way possible.

“Not really.”

“Okay so like…” She sighs, pauses to think and then continues. “Do you remember when we first met? When I assumed you were a whore like alot of college athletes are?”

The reminder of our first interaction brings a calmness to me. I remember everything abou that night in her dorm. She wore sweats with no bra, and I’m pretty sure she was stoned.

“Yeah of course. You apologized to me that night and it kinda weirded me out.”

“Right.” Xavia snapped her fingers, bringing me out of my memory. “I apologized to you, because I generalized you and made an assumption based on one aspect of your identity. And I think it weirded you out because you’d generalized every person who’d made an assumption about you. I guess it’s rare that people apologize after being an asshole to you.”

It was rare. So rare that she’s the only person who’d ever done it.

“Okay…”

“So. Incourpurating that into basketball. Every team is different.”

I nod my head to let her know I was following. “Of course.”

“Okay and so every player on every team is different too.”

She lost me.

“No.” Now I’m the one leaning forward, talking with my hands. “They all move as a team. Yes, they have differences, but they’re all working together.”

“I see it differently.” She shrugs like she’s the master of basketball and done copious amounts of research on the psyche of an athlet. “I feel like every player on that court moves individually. Do they play for the same team, and have the same goal? Of course. But they’re all different. They all have different thoughts and concerns and ideas. You said that girl Hannah was the head of the snake, but I think you should see it differently.”

“How so?”

“Instead of thinking of a team as one snake, think of it like… Like cheetahs!”

“Cheetahs?”

“Cheetahs.” She finalizes. “Once the mama cheetah gives birth, she trains her cubs to survive in any situation. To adapt to any surroundings. She teaches her cubs how to kill different animals, to hide, all that. Eventually, the cubs form a sibling group and go out together to execute everything their mother has taught them. Are you getting the analogy?”

When she’s explaining it in laymans terms, of course I get it. She could probably explain thermodynamics to me and I’d understand it fully. Xavia just has a way of making everything in life seem so simple. It’s wonderful, really.

“Yeah. Like the coach is the mother, the players are the cubs.”

“Right. But each cub is different. There’s a more dominant one, there’s submissives and then theirs the runts. Each one has to edit their mothers lessons to make it useful to them individually. Does that make sense?”

I’ve decided that she’s blown my mind enough for tonight, once again by being right about everything. So I just chuckle and dismiss the topic.

“How do you come up with this shit, Xavi?”

She laughs like a seductress and leans back on the couch, “I dunno. I read alot.”

You read alot? Reading alot has given you the ability to break down a sport like you’ve played it your whole life?

“Well thank you for sharing your knowledge with my dumbass, oh wise one.”

I stand up from the beanbag and make my way to the door, ready to take my exit.

“I’m not wise, I just see from a different point of view than you. Sometimes you gotta get outta your head.”

“I guess.” I sigh, then open my arms. “Thanks, Xavi.”

She steps into me, her head just below my chest and wraps her arms around me. Her body is warm, but the silk she’s wearing cold. She doesn’t hug me tight or aggressively. Just stands there with her arms around my waist.

It feels terrifyingly comfortable.

“Anytime P.” she mutters, pulling away and ushering me out of her home.

The whole walk back, my mind is on her and everything she said.

How is it that this girl that is the exact opposite of everything I’m looking for, seems to be everything I need?

✷TAGLIST @patscorner @riyahtheballer @mattslolita @thaatdigitaldiary @janaelalfysblunt @mrsengstler @kmoneymartini @sageworld

@darkskinchristiandiorpostergirl @justliketoreadsowhat @pb524830 @pb524830 @dnftpn @sierrale8ne @numberonepartyanth3m

@pppaaiiiggggeeeeee @uwupaige @paigeluvvr @colorthecosmos444 @authentic-girl03 @makethemhoesmad @lovegalor333 @mrsarnold

@sellasstories @heart4caitlin @avvwritesstufff @st4rrzynight @bueckersp @paxaz535 @thelightknight21 @paxaz535

#uconn wbb #paige bueckers #uconn #wcbb #aubrey griffin #azzi fudd #kk arnold #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x oc #paige buckets #paige bueckers uconn

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grandline-fics · 2 days ago

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Immune To Your Charms

DESCRIPTION: Soulmates are incapable of harming the other in any way. Normally that would be a good thing but not when you're meant to be enemies.

WARNINGS: It's Doflamingo so that's it's own warning if you don't like reading fics featuring him. Soulmate! AU, Enemies to Lovers. Some descriptions of illness and death

CHARACTERS: Doflamingo

WORDS: 3,907

A/N: The next part is here and we've got some soft Doffy and in denial Doffy because lets face it the man isn't going to admit his feelings so easily. I hope you all like how this chapter turned out. I think this might be the longest chapter yet. Hopefully the next one won't have as long a wait

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

——————

Once again being soulmates had yielded unforeseen benefits- for a lack of a better term- with the way Doflamingo’s touch meant your body was incapable of feeling pain from your sickness. Doflamingo watched silently as one of the doctors approached to conduct their morning observations of your condition. The doctor, highly aware of his ruler’s intense stare, flinched when they lifted your hand into their’s, already braced and expecting your expression to contort into one of pain. He only relaxed when you continued to sleep, unbothered by the touch that would have caused you to audibly cry out in pain just hours prior.

With a shaky breath, the doctor became a little braver and pressed their fingers against your wrist to measure your pulse. The night before, when they were first summoned to your chambers after being alerted to your illness this was something they couldn’t properly measure because of the extreme pain you were in. Now he and his colleagues could breathe a little easier, selfishly relieved their lives weren’t entirely endangered when it came to treating you now.

“Any change?” The doctor jumped suddenly at Doflamingo’s deep voice breaking through the unbearable, tense silence.

“Uh their heart rate is still increased as we’re expecting to be the case for now. But it’s a good sign it hasn’t worsened.” They explained, swallowing the lump in their throat. Even though he was confident in his and the abilities of his colleagues, there was just no predicting how Doflamingo would take any of their statements. He could lash out quite easily and without any remorse or hesitation simply because he wanted to or because their phrasing didn’t fit with what he wanted to hear. “This long period of uninterrupted sleep has made a clear difference. When they wake we'll attempt them with something to eat-something light like broth- and if they can stomach that we’ll begin the first round of medication.”

The seconds ticked by heavily as the doctor waited for Doflamingo to make a comment on the proposed next course of action. He knew better than to prod or say anything that could be seen as forcing a response. So the doctor could only wait and continue to check over you, gently settling your hand against your body before doing another read of your temperature, knowing to monitor your fluctuating fever and chills. Still you didn’t even so much as twitch, the doctor didn't think he’d ever get used to seeing how the power of a soulmate could defy what he knew as a medical professional. “When you’ve finished, discuss an appropriate menu with the cooks and have them begin to prepare it.”

Taking no further encouragement at his King’s finally uttered words, the doctor completed his checks and updated his notes before bowing and leaving quickly. Silently they were happy their next shift to check on your wouldn’t be until the next morning. Alone again, Doflamingo looked down at your sleeping form. With Doflamingo sitting up against the headrest, you were propped up too but sleeping soundly and unmoved since the second he pulled you into his hold. He clicked his tongue in annoyance. Annoyance that he’d acted in the moment without thinking. The image of your twisted in extreme distress flashed in his head and he turned his head away to scowl, refusing to consider the implications of his actions anymore than he’d already begun to.

Thankfully you broke his attention by shifting in your sleep, a long lazy groan breaking from your lips as you stirred and forced your eyes to open. Doflamingo noted how exhausted you still looked but the sleep you’d managed to get without feeling pain had helped in some capacity. As you stared blankly in front of you the haze of sleep fell, confusion began to take over. Then panic. Sluggishly you tried to push the covers away and sit up fully. “Late…I’m late.” You croaked out, voice thick with tiredness and trembling with the infection still coursing through you. “Captain’s going…to kill me.”

Doflamingo tilted his head to the side curiously, you didn’t seem to realise he was there and from your sickly rambling it seemed you didn’t even know where you were. With how warm your skin felt he saw the spike in your fever was leaving you confused. He watched your feeble attempt to fight against the covers and listened to you mumble about morning drills for another few seconds before he acted. With ease he pulled the cover back to its original place and lean in so his chest was against your back a little more so he could tell you softly. “You’re on shore leave remember?”

At his voice you stopped and numbly nodded with a small hum of acknowledgement. Slowly you rolled over and slumped to lie down again, your back against his side and head resting on his bicep. While you weren’t conscious enough to know being in his hold prevented your body to feel pain, it seemed like your body now knew out of instinct that this was the only surefire solution for relief. Already your breathing had evened out to signal you were asleep but still Doflamingo could hear the tightened wheeze preventing you from taking calmer, deeper breaths like you normally would. Doflamingo glanced at the clock on the wall, already aware of the doctors’ routine with checking on you. The next would be arriving in twenty minutes, and if the previous doctor had obeyed his order then a servant would be bringing something for you to eat as well.

In the meantime Doflamingo used his strings to pull the morning’s paper from the table into his waiting hand. Bored and in need of something to occupy his time, he slowly leafed through the pages, taking in the reports from around the world. Some stories about skirmishes made him grin, knowing he was behind the reason both sides had so much weaponry at their disposal and the bloodshed was increasing as he’d expected it to. Other stories of other pirates causing trouble and increasing their bounties made him roll his eyes at the numbers. No doubt the weaklings thought this made them big-shots in the New World but it would only be a matter of time before they ran into someone of real power to knock them down to the harsh reality of these seas. Doflamingo turned the page and paused to see a full story dedicated to the illness you were afflicted with, claiming more lives on the island you’d caught it at. His grin lessened and the vein in his head throbbed as he read through the claims that the island’s best doctors and with the aid of neighbouring islands were administering the treatments needed but for so many it was too late.

‘The cruelty of the illness is so severe to the afflicted that they physically cannot bear to be touched long enough to be treated. Meaning that so many of those that could be saved are unable to endure help from their saviours. These poor souls are meant to spend the last days of life in constant pain while also being too weakened with internal ailments to take matters into their own hands. The only saving grace in this poor report is that thankfully the illness’ source has been dealt with and the island will not suffer more of its populace to fall victim to this calamity. The island’s ruler-thankfully one of those not infected- was quoted to say “We mourn the tragic loss of life but our island will recover.”’ Doflamingo clicked his tongue harshly and discarded the paper.

————

“Just try some please.” You screwed up your face in exhausted distaste at the bowl on the tray. Your eyes stung, even with them being half-opened felt so heavy. Even blinking felt like a massive effort and you had no energy. You just wanted to sleep but the servant and doctor in front of you kept insisting on coaxing you to eat so they could give you medicine. Your gaze dropped to the vial of dark green liquid on the tray and you felt yourself gag, already anticipating the foul taste. “Just a spoonful?”

“No thank you.” You croaked out, turning your head away slightly in case they tried to force it into your mouth. You spotted the fear in their eyes at your refusal to even take a drop of the broth made specifically for you. Even with your mind clouded with the illness you knew they were doing everything they could to avoid the stare of the man you were leaning against. You knew that the reason Doflamingo was in your bed and had your body propped against him, his arm around your waist had been explained but honestly you were too weakened and drained to have really processed what the doctor had told you. All you could really retain was because he was your soulmate and that it was somehow helping. Which only left you more confused about everything. You could feel how tense Doflamingo was, impatient and silently angry. You weren’t in the mood to deal with his tantrums and taking any frustration out on a servant and doctor so you sighed.“Just leave it to the side. I’ll try later.”

While that seemed to relieve the two in front of you, your words only brought an extra note of silent displeasure from the Warlord. If you had the power to roll your eyes you would have. Instead you blankly watched the tray get moved to your bedside table. The servant retreated to the wall closest to the door, silently waiting for permission to leave while the doctor began to check over your condition. Already you were sick of being poked, prodded, and pestered like this and fussed over so intently. “Everything is about the same from the last recordings taken. I don't think we’ll see any real change until the treatment properly begins.”

“Subtle.” You remarked dryly, feeling like a child being lectured for not eating their vegetables.

“Please try to take some before the next check.” You gave no further response to the doctor, watching him and the servant finally leave. The second the door clicked closed you felt movement behind you and glared weakly as the tray as pulled back onto the bed beside you.

“I said I’d-”

“I know what you said.” Doflamingo noted far too evenly for your liking. “I also know that you lied when you said you’d try later. You’d really hurt their feelings by lying?”

“Rather their feelings get hurt than you hurt them physically.” You uttered before breaking out into a cough. Thankfully this time you felt no pain or brought up any blood but the tightness in your chest and constant action left your wheezing and breathless. When you’d recovered you glowered at Doflamingo as he adjusted you to recline back and hold a spoon of broth out to you. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you’re too weak and stubborn to feed yourself.”

“No. This.” You barely managed to tap his arm around your waist. “Why insist I get better? Why help? This could kill me if we do nothing.” Doflamingo felt his jaw tighten as he fought to keep his expression unreadable to you. Thankfully your usual perception was dulled considerably and you failed to notice how your words got under his skin him and made him bristle. Instead he brought the spoon a little closer to divert your attention away from the question. Unfortunately your stubbornness and deep—seated need to defy him was still very much in tact. “Tell me.”

“Well I didn’t infect you did I?” Doflamingo asked smoothly, deciding to opt for an easier explanation for his actions, more for his own benefit than yours. “It’d be the same as having someone else kill you and that’s not going to happen. Happy?”

“Ecstatic.” You grumbled as you eyed the spoon hesitantly. If you gave in and tried the broth then it meant you were doing what Doflamingo wanted. Not wanting to lose to him in the strange sense of point scoring you both had you slowly looked at him, already seeing his grin appear when he could tell you were contemplating giving in and eating. Spurned on you pursed your lips slightly. “Say please first.”

“You’ve got to be joking.” Doflamingo ground out. Why did he expect that being sick would make you more agreeable. “Isn’t me holding you so you can sleep and spoon-feeding you enough?”

“You did that on your own.” You remarked with a pout, refusing to comment on how truthfully comfortable and reassured you felt against him. “You want me to eat? Say please.”

Doflamingo stared you down for what felt like an eternity. He was once a Celestial Dragon. Anything he wanted he took. Even now as Dressrosa’s king that was still the case. His every whim and wish was granted when he opened his mouth. Not once had he ever said please, or had to genuinely ask for something. Harshly he bit the inside of his mouth at the sheer absurdity of it all. Suddenly you began to cough again, this time more persistent that the previous bout that racked through your body. He glared at the sound of your worsened wheeze, no doubt because of the amount of talking and effort it was having on your body. Unwillingly he recalled the doctors telling him that your readings hadn’t changed and that your body needed the balance of rest and nutrients to even be able to fight off the infection. Just because being in his hold meant you didn’t feel pain, it didn’t free you from the infection itself still coursing through your body and getting stronger. As you caught your breath, Doflamingo gnashed his teeth together and forced out a simple but audible. “Please.”

Surprise managed to bring a small amount of light to your eyes. Quite honestly you had expected Doflamingo to force your mouth open before even letting that one little word break from his own. Still you weren’t one to go back on your word and now having the knowledge that you made the Doflamingo Donquixote say please, made the fact you had to be spoon-fed like a baby less humiliating. Taking a breath you nodded and parted your lips, accepting the food reluctantly.

For the entire process you were surprised to find Doflamingo didn’t rush you, simply waiting in silence for you to attempt the next spoonful offered. Even more surprising was that he seemed to know you’d reached your limit before you had to say so. The bowl was set aside and you let out a tired sigh of relief. Your relief was short-lived because immediately Doflamingo lifted the small vial of medicine and removed the topper and brought it closer. “You already used your ‘please’ so no absurd requests for this one.”

“It’s fine…” You mumbled, more for yourself than anything else. “I’ve had awful shots in worse bars in the past…I can do this.” Doflamingo chuckled and helped tip the contents of the vial into your mouth, watching you force it down and tense as the full taste hit you. You winced and let out a shuddering breath. It wasn’t the worst thing you’d tasted in your life but even with the doctors making a clear attempt to make the experience more tolerable for you, it was clear it was medicine and nothing to be entirely enjoyed. You gratefully took a sip of water when it was offered to you and already felt the strange numbing warmth begin to spread through you from the medicine. You shifted to get comfortable and curled up, a yawn building in your chest that didn’t feel as tight as it had just a few moments ago. “You don’ have to stay…”

“Oh? You got someone else lined up to sneak in here if I go?” Doflamingo asked with a chuckle. You’d unknowingly moved your arm over his chest at the same time you told him he could go.

“Mhm…” You nodded, mind already hazy and eyes closed. “Don’ be jealous…’kay?”

“Oh I already told you I don’t get jealous, remember?” Doflamingo smirked as you sleepily laughed and forced your eyes open to briefly look at him.

“You also never said please before. First time…for everything hm?” Your sleepy triumphant smile was so endearing that Doflamingo couldn’t even get annoyed at your reminder of your getting the upper hand over him. Even if he did, you wouldn’t have heard anything because you were promptly asleep.

———

You were completely knocked out and in the deepest sleep when the doctors came by for their next check on you. They informed Doflamingo that your response to the first dose of medication was a promising sign. They explained that they’d ensured there was a good balance to assist your immune system to fight the infection, relax your airways, regulate your temperature, manage pain relief, and protect the vital organs. Doflamingo nodded in satisfaction at the report. “My King, there is something we’d like to test while they’re sleeping.” The doctor requested glancing briefly to your sleeping form still against Doflamingo’s chest. “Can you move them out of your touch? I’d like to ensure the pain relief is correct for them? We don’t want to risk them being under or over medicated in that respect.”

Doflamingo hesitated for the briefest second but relented, settling his arms around you and shifting to pass you down to lie against the pillows and climbed out of the bed. He watched silently and hands tensed, to use his strings and stop the doctor if need be. It seemed the doctor was nervous, already remembering what almost happened to her colleague the first night they tended to you. Experimentally her hand settled against yours, sighing in relief to see your fingers twitch at the contact but you gave no other reaction. your expression was kept at its calm, relaxed state as it had been while you slept in Doflamingo’s arms. “That’s promising. My King, you can leave them while they’re sleeping now should you wish? Stretch your legs or even attend to other business. They shouldn’t wake for another few hours if our assumptions are correct.”

He nodded and offered you another glance. Immediately he felt reluctant to leave you and for that reason he forced himself to leave your quarters, needing desperately to clear his head and get away from your presence. He needed something recognisable, routine. Doflamingo headed straight for his own room and into his personal bathroom. The strong heat and stream of water from the shower helped to loosen the knots in his body and unravel some of the tension that had built in him over the course of the last few days. Between rushing home to Dressrosa from the Marine base until this moment he hadn’t let you out of his sight and had practically ignored everything else. When he was dried and changed, he made his way to the dining room, deciding to actually spend time with his family and eat while making sure to not give you a second thought, out of sheer determination to prove to himself he wasn’t in anyway concerned about you.

“Doffy what do you think?” Doflamingo blinked in the middle of the meal, only now realising that he’d been absently looking at the time on the clock. Had he been unconsciously checking how long was left until you woke? No. He couldn’t have. He was just tired, he didn’t sleep at the best of times and the shower he had and wine he was drinking was just making him sleepy.

“About what Diamanté?”

“We were just saying how funny the whole thing with that island is.” His elite officer said. “It’s further proof that you two are soulmates.”

“How so?” Doflamingo asked, not understanding how you getting sick was proof. Then again he’d not been listening to the first part of the conversation, a point no one at the table would point out. Doflamingo couldn’t help but think you would though. The second he slipped on anything, you would promptly call him out on it. Sharply he shoved that thought out of his head and focused on Diamanté who spoke, unfazed at having to no doubt repeat himself.

“Well it was just a nothing little island, with nothing little criminals storing weapons for us. None of us were meant to even go there for the hand over.” He explained with an amused smile. “If I recall right we were going to send one of the middle tier pirate crews under your command to go. You decided last minute to go. If you hadn’t then you never would have encountered them and brought them here to then be treated by the doctors for that deadly infection. It’s interesting how it all played out isn’t it?”

Interesting certainly was one way of putting it and it was something Doflamingo couldn’t help but continue to consider it after dinner. He remembered now. It was just how Diamanté reminded him. A crew similar to Bellamy’s was instructed to collect the weapons and ammunition being stored at the warehouse. Then a tip came through from one of his other Marine informants that a unit was stationed at the island, waiting to strike and interfere with the operation without knowing it was his business they were sticking their noses into. He hadn’t gotten any names or further information about you or the unit. It was the vaguest report but still, Doflamingo had immediately made the decision to go there and deal with the unit himself. At the time had it been interpreted as something to entertain him. Had he been simply bored or had fate made him go? To inadvertently save your life from the sickness that was already in your system and incubating without anyone knowing?

Harshly he rubbed his head as he walked down the halls, feeling a migraine coming on. Doflamingo reached for the doorhandles and pushed them open, stopping abruptly when he saw he’d made his way to your room instead of his own. Muttering a curse under his breath he closed the doors and stepped further inside. Silently he told himself he was only doing this until you were a little better and didn’t need the medicine. Pulling back the covers he got back into the bed and lay down beside you but knowing you were still sound asleep with the medicine in your system mean he didn’t need to touch you. Letting out a long groan, he closed his eyes and lifted his hand to press his thumb and finger against his temples.

The slight sound of shifting fabric caught his attention, signalling him that you were shifting in your sleep. Doflamingo was caught by surprise when your body pressed against him, your head tucking into the crook of his neck. He could tell you were still fast asleep, your deep breathing the clearest sign. Everything in your movements was purely instinct, including when one of your hands lifted you lay over his head, your fingers settling over the point of his headache that immediately began to subside. As he felt himself drift asleep he began to consider that it was only fair you both benefited from the affects that being soulmates brought.

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa@kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa , @dreamcastgirl99 , @my-name-is-heartache , @iamn1ya , @yunho-leeknow , @hinata7346 , @h0oouwlss , @missrandomdreamer , @sleepykittycx , @ddawn111 , @jaygrl22 , @sylum , @acehyacinth , @resident-cryptid , @treelogirl , @maellem , @its-a-dam-blue-brick , @thulhu

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jhyoos · 14 hours ago

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REBEL GIRL

Chapter 1: Player

rockstar! sevika x influencer! reader

summary: (y/n) is invited by her close friend, caitlyn to come to her band’s concert, giving her a backstage pass.

warning: modern au!, fame au!, and swearing

notes: y’all let me know what their band name should be! 🫶

The ring light cast a soft glow across your face as you adjusted the camera’s angle. The glow of the ring light softened the sharp angles of your decor—black walls adorned with band posters. Your desk was cluttered with makeup palettes, brushes, and a freshly arrived PR package.

“I’ve been waiting forever to get my hands on this,” you continued, holding up the box. “So let’s see what the hype is or if they’re playing us again.”

You flicked open the lid, showing off the dramatic reveal to the camera, giving a detailed breakdown of the products inside. As you swatched a deep crimson lipstick on your wrist, your phone buzzed on your desk.

“Oh…,” you muttered, leaning off camera to check.

Caitlyn 💙: Hey Y/N, I’ve decided to bless you with a backstage pass for tonight’s show. You in?

The message Caitlyn made you pause. You’d known her for a while now—first through a friend of a friend, then through a collaboration where you helped her band gain traction on your socials. That collab had been a turning point for them.

You : You better be blessed I cleared my schedule tonight!

Hours later, you found yourself standing at the back entrance of a packed venue. Fans swarmed the streets, their excitement practically vibrating in the air. You adjusted your leather jacket, feeling more like yourself among the edgy crowd.

Inside, a staff member escorted you through a maze of hallways until you reached the backstage area. The hum of guitars being tuned, the steady rhythm of drum checks, and the occasional burst of laughter created a vibrant, chaotic energy.

“Y/N!” Caitlyn’s voice called from a corner. You spotted her, dressed in her usual new variant of baggy ripped jeans and baby tee. Her face lit up when she saw you.

“There she is,” Caitlyn said, pulling you into a quick hug. “I’m glad you came.”

“You made it hard to say no,” you replied, looking around. “So this is where the magic happens, huh?”

Caitlyn laughed. “Yeah, it’s a mess, but it works. The band’s scattered right now—Vi’s finishing her guitar setup, Jinx is probably somewhere causing trouble, and Sevika...” She trailed off, smirking. “Well, Sevika’s being Sevika.”

“Which means?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Probably charming her way into trouble,” Caitlyn said, rolling her eyes. “You’ll see.”

As if on cue, a smooth, deep voice cut through the noise. “Speaking of trouble…”

You turned to find Sevika leaning against the doorway, her electric guitar slung across her shoulder. Her presence was magnetic—broad shoulders, tattoos winding down her arms, and a smirk that was as cocky as it was alluring.

“And who’s this?” Sevika asked, her eyes locking on you.

“Y/N,” Caitlyn said with a hint of warning in her voice. “A friend. So behave, Sev.”

Sevika ignored Caitlyn’s tone and stepped closer, extending a hand. “Sevika. Lead guitarist and part-time troublemaker.”

You shook her hand, her grip firm and deliberate. “Y/N. Influencer and part-time skeptic.”

That made her laugh—a deep, rich sound that you felt in your chest. “A skeptic, huh? We’ll see about that.”

You pulled your hand away, crossing your arms. “Don’t get any ideas.”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty,” Sevika said, her smirk widening.

Before you could respond, Vi appeared, slinging her own guitar over her shoulder. “Sev, don’t scare off Caitlyn’s friends before we even hit the stage,” she said, her tone light but commanding.

“I’m just being friendly,” Sevika said innocently, though the glint in her eye said otherwise.

You rolled your eyes and turned back to Caitlyn. “Let me guess—this happens a lot?”

Caitlyn sighed, giving you an apologetic smile. “Welcome to my life.”

As you followed Caitlyn toward her drum kit, you couldn’t help but feel Sevika’s gaze lingering on you. She was trouble, that much was obvious, but you weren’t about to let her get under your skin.

Not yet, anyway.

The smell of sweat, spilled beer, and raw anticipation filled the air as you stood near the edge of the VIP section. You adjusted your leather jacket, letting the buzz of the crowd settle into your skin. The venue felt alive—hundreds of fans pressed together, shouting and cheering, as the lights dimmed and the noise swelled into a roar.

A single spotlight pierced through the darkness, illuminating Vi as she strutted confidently toward the microphone, her guitar slung across her back. She grinned out at the audience, her energy magnetic, and the room fell silent in reverence.

“You ready for this?” Vi’s voice boomed, equal parts challenge and promise.

The crowd erupted, their screams shaking the walls as the first notes ripped through the air.

The band launched into their opening song with precision and fire. Vi commanded the stage effortlessly, her voice raw and powerful, blending perfectly with her sharp guitar riffs. Caitlyn, ever composed, added a melodic touch from the keyboard, her fingers dancing across the keys with a grace that seemed almost out of place in the chaos of the stage. Jinx, on the other hand, was a blur of wild energy behind the drum set, her movements erratic yet precise, her laughter audible even over the pounding rhythm she created.

And then there was Sevika.

She moved into the spotlight for her solo, her fingers flying across the strings of her guitar with a skill that left the crowd in awe. Her smirk was practically a permanent fixture, the glint in her eye daring anyone not to look at her. She had an ease about her, a confidence that screamed rockstar, and the fans ate it up.

Your eyes lingered on her longer than you meant to. There was no denying she was captivating—the tattoos curling around her arms, the way she poured everything into the music, the cocky tilt of her head when she glanced out at the screaming crowd.

But then your gaze drifted to the edge of the stage, where she seemed to lock eyes with someone in the front row. A girl—blonde, wide-eyed, clearly smitten. Sevika winked at her mid-solo, earning a squeal of delight.

The blonde wasn’t alone. Throughout the set, Sevika’s gaze darted to other fans, offering winks, smirks, and sly nods that made them swoon. You rolled your eyes. If there was one thing you could spot from a mile away, it was a player.

Still, it was hard to ignore how ridiculously good she was. The music, the stage presence, the way her guitar seemed like an extension of her body—it all left you equal parts impressed and annoyed.

When the final chord rang out and Vi shouted, “Thank you, everyone! We love you!” the venue exploded into applause. The band left the stage to thunderous cheers, and you followed a staff member toward the backstage area.

The energy there was different—no less chaotic, but tinged with satisfaction. Roadies darted around, packing up equipment, while the band members moved in different directions. Vi disappeared into a side room, and Caitlyn sat on a small couch, sipping water and scrolling through her phone.

“Y/N!” Caitlyn called, smiling as she saw you approach. She set her water aside and stood, still slightly out of breath.

“Well?” she asked, brushing her hair out of her face. “What’d you think?”

“They’re loud,” you teased, but your grin betrayed your real feelings. “Seriously, though, you were amazing. The keys? Perfect.”

Caitlyn beamed, her posture relaxing. “Thanks, but it’s not just me. We all pulled it off tonight. Thanks for coming—it means a lot.”

Before you could reply, you caught movement out of the corner of your eye. Sevika, leaning against the doorway, her guitar slung casually over her back, chatting with two fans who had somehow found their way backstage.

She was all charm—grinning, nodding, brushing her hand along her jaw in a way that screamed calculated. The fans giggled, hanging onto her every word.

“Does she ever stop?” you muttered, mostly to yourself.

Caitlyn followed your gaze and groaned. “That’s Sev for you. She doesn’t know the meaning of ‘off the clock.’”

“Clearly,” you said, rolling your eyes.

As if on cue, Sevika turned her attention from the fans and strolled toward you. Her smirk was as infuriating up close as it was on stage.

“And what about me?” Sevika asked, her voice low and smooth. “Did I kill it tonight?”

You crossed your arms, refusing to give her the reaction you knew she was fishing for. “You were fine.”

“Fine?” she echoed, placing a hand over her heart as if you’d wounded her. “That’s all I get?”

“I’m not one of your groupies,” you shot back, your tone flat.

Sevika chuckled, stepping closer. “No, you’re not. You’re… different.”

Her gaze lingered, intense and unrelenting, and for a moment, you felt your cheeks flush. Annoyed at your own reaction, you rolled your eyes.

“Keep working on it,” you said sharply, before pulling out your phone and seeing the time. It was pass midnight. Shit. You had a promotional event early in the morning.

“I’m sorry, Cait. But I’ve gotta go,” You say with a playful pout before giving her a goodbye hug.

“It’s okay. I’ll text you and most importantly text me when you get home,” Caitlyn says as she hugged you back.

You both pulled away “Yes mam. I will,” you say.

As you turn towards the door, Sevika steps into your way with a teasing smirk. “Leaving so soon?” she asked, her voice low.

“Some of us have responsibilities,” you replied coolly, slipping your phone into your pocket.

She leaned against a nearby wall, her eyes trailing over you in a way that felt deliberate. “What, no time for a drink? A little post-show celebration?”

You crossed your arms, tilting your head. “Do all your ‘post-show celebrations’ involve swooning fans and scribbled phone numbers, or do I get a special offer?”

Her grin widened, her gaze steady. “Depends. Are you interested in being special?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re persistent. I’ll give you that.”

“Just calling it like I see it,” Sevika replied, stepping closer. “And I see someone who might enjoy a little fun if she let herself.”

You met her gaze, and for a moment, you let a sly smile tug at your lips. “You’re confident, I’ll give you that. But I’m not as easy to impress as your fan club.”

Sevika chuckled, the sound low and rich. “That’s what makes it interesting.”

You stepped closer, brushing past her shoulder as you made your way toward the exit. “Interesting’s a good start, but you’ll have to try harder than that.”

She turned, her smirk faltering for the first time, as if she hadn’t expected you to turn the tables.

Pausing at the doorway, you glanced back, your eyes meeting hers. “Good luck with the next one, rockstar. I’ve got places to be.”

And with that, you disappeared down the hallway, leaving her standing there, her smirk replaced by something more thoughtful.

As you made your way toward the exit, you allowed yourself a small smile. Flirting with Sevika was like playing with fire, but there was something undeniably satisfying about leaving her wondering.

Tomorrow would be busy, but tonight, you couldn’t help but savor the small victory.

mini taglist: @gracie-gloom @swordfemm4 @m00npjm 🎸❤️

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simplygojo · 2 days ago

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The Devil He Made Me - Ch. 14

author's note ⸺ Chapter 14 finally done!! The holidays are superrr busy for em so I've been a bit slower than usual...I hope you enjoy! tysm for reading <3 pairing ⸺ Satoru Gojo x reader chapter summary ⸺ After your heated moment with Gojo, you head back to your room and experience a new kind of vision upon falling asleep. word count ⸺ 4.5k content ⸺ light angst, memory loss, gojo overusing emojis, suggestive violence, reader uses female pronouns taglist ⸺ @mawhoreagaa; @peqch-pie; @blue-serendipity; @simplyyyuji; @starrnai; @sorcerersseestars; @n1vi; @angryglitterperfection; @krak-jj; @coweringbear; @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni; @cococola-cocaine; @sdv98o; @theendx888; @dvmb4ssbiatch; @sugxryratz; @kinny-away; @crankyarchives; @enfppuff; @reactwithjan; @blubearxy; @mystic-megumi; @nanamisrighthand; If you’d like to be added to the series tag list, leave a comment below:)

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That night, the suffocating darkness that usually swallowed your dreams softened tonight, replaced by the gentle glow of golden sunlight.

Warmth spread across your skin, not harsh or blinding, but tender, like the first rays of dawn after a long, stormy night.

You were seated on a wooden bench beneath the sprawling branches of an old oak tree. Its leaves danced with the breeze, casting dappled shadows across the garden surrounding you.

The air was alive with the hum of bees flitting between blooming flowers and the sweet melody of birdsong. Every detail felt so real, so achingly familiar.

Ahead of you, a woman knelt in the flowerbed, her hands dirt-streaked as she coaxed new blooms from the earth.

Her laughter rang out, clear and joyful, as if the very act of nurturing life brought her immeasurable happiness. She glanced over her shoulder, her warm, radiant smile catching you off guard.

“There you are, sleepyhead,” she teased, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. Her eyes, soft and brimming with love, crinkled as she laughed again.

You didn’t respond—words felt unnecessary. Instead, your chest filled with an overwhelming warmth that made your throat tighten.

From the shade of the tree, a man approached, carrying a tray with four steaming cups of tea. He set them down between you and the woman, the sturdy frame of his shoulders bending with practiced ease.

His presence was steady and familiar, like the roots of the oak tree overhead, grounding and strong.

“She takes after you,” he said, his deep voice filled with quiet affection. He glanced at you with a playful twinkle in his eye before leaning down to kiss the woman’s temple.

“Oh, stop it,” she said, swatting him lightly but grinning all the same. She turned to you, her expression softening. “Did you sleep well? You always look so peaceful when you’re dreaming.”

The man chuckled, shaking his head. “Not always. Last week, you had her running circles trying to catch fireflies.”

You blinked at the image, and faint memories of laughter under a starry sky flickered like firelight in your mind.

Before you could reply, a young girl bounded into the garden, her steps uneven with the boundless energy of childhood. A child, no older than eight, clutched something tightly in her hands. Her face lit up as she reached you, cheeks flushed from running.

“I made this for you!” The young girl exclaimed, thrusting a daisy chain into your lap. The flowers were mismatched and clumsily woven, but the effort behind it made it precious, and you felt a pang in your heart as your eyes locked with yours.

You took the chain gently, your fingers brushing against theirs. The child beamed up at you, their joy so pure it made your heart swell.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” The woman said, her voice brimming with pride.

“Perfect,” you murmured, your voice catching in your throat.

The man crouched beside the child, ruffling her hair with a large, calloused hand. “Told you she’d love it.”

The young girl giggled, pulling the daisy chain from your lap and carefully placing it on your head. “Now you’re the queen of the garden!”

Laughter surrounded you, warm and full, wrapping around your heart like a blanket.

You felt it in every fibre of your being—the unconditional love, the safety of belonging, the absolute certainty that this was your family.

The woman leaned over, brushing a hand against your cheek. Her touch was soft, her gaze full of something eternal. “Don’t forget this feeling, alright?” she said gently.

Before you could answer, the edges of the garden began to blur, the colours bleeding together as if painted on water. The laughter echoed, growing fainter, even as you reached for them, desperate to hold onto the moment.

“No,” you whispered softly, “No!” The single word breaking under the weight of the ache swelling in your chest.

The woman’s hand lingered for just a moment longer, cupping your cheek, her thumb brushing against your skin. “You’ll remember,” she said, her voice fading into the warm breeze.

—

The sunlight grew brighter, pulling you into its embrace, until the garden was gone, replaced by the soft light of morning spilling across your room.

Your eyes fluttered open, your chest tight but not with pain—something else, something almost bittersweet.

For the first time in weeks, your dreams had brought not torment but solace, a reminder of love so profound it warmed you to your core.

As you got up, noticing the light shining through the large window in your room, you told yourself you’d keep this to yourself for now.

You stood slowly, the soft fabric of your pyjama shirt brushing against your arms, the morning air cool but not unkind. As your feet padded across the floor, the quiet ache in your chest mingled with something else—a flicker of hope, faint but persistent.

You weren’t sure what this dream meant, or why it had come now after weeks of nightmares that tore at your spirit.

Maybe it was your mind’s way of reminding you what love felt like, or maybe it was something deeper—a sign, a gift, or a memory clawing its way back to you.

The sound of soft laughter carried down the hallway as you padded toward the living room, your slippers barely making a noise against the polished floor.

The warmth of Nobara’s unmistakable laugh blended with Yuji’s bright chatter and the occasional dry remark from Megumi, creating a lively hum that tugged at the corners of your lips.

You adjusted the loose sleeves of your long-sleeved shirt, the fabric brushing against your arms as you walked. The soft cotton of your pyjama shorts swayed with each step, a gentle contrast to the slight chill of the morning air.

Turning a corner, with your focus on the cheerful sounds ahead, you didn’t notice the shadow stretching across the hall until you bumped into something firm but warm.

Stumbling slightly, you glanced up and froze. Gojo stood in front of you, his towering frame seeming larger in the close proximity of the hallway. He wasn’t wearing his usual uniform or even his blindfold.

Instead, a snug black t-shirt stretched across his chest, its short sleeves revealing the lean muscle of his arms, and a pair of grey sweatpants sat low on his hips. His white hair fell in casual disarray, a stark contrast to its usual sleekness, and a faint trace of a morning shadow dusted his jaw.

“Ah, sorry!” You blurted, stepping back quickly, the heat rising to your cheeks betraying the casualness you tried to convey.

He tilted his head, a lazy grin pulling at the corners of his mouth as his glacial eyes searched your face. “Careful there. I’d hate for you to get hurt before breakfast.”

You crossed your arms, shifting your weight as you tried to ignore how your face burned under his gaze.

“Are you going to coldly reject me again, or was that a one-time thing?” Your words carried a teasing edge, but your voice softened at the end, unsure if the memory of his earlier dismissal still lingered between you both.

Gojo chuckled, the sound low and rich, and took a step closer, his hand lifting as though he might ruffle your hair but stopping short.

“Oh, I’m way past that point.” His tone was quieter now, the playful air slipping into something softer.

Before you could reply, he leaned down and pressed a light kiss to your lips, the warmth of it spreading across your skin like sunlight breaking through a cloudy sky. His raised hand found the back of your head and ever-so-gently pulled you toward him.

His presence enveloped you, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the clean smell of his shirt.

When he pulled back, his grin had returned, but his expression held a certain weight, his usual teasing tempered with something more sincere.

“Don’t get used to it,” he said, his tone teasing once again, though the faint flush at the tips of his ears betrayed him as much as your pink cheeks betrayed you.

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered, trying and failing to hold back your own smile as you brushed past him, your steps carrying you toward the voices ahead, though the steady beat of your heart and the warmth lingering on your lips refused to be ignored.

The playful smirk lingered on Gojo's lips as he watched you turn toward the living room, the sound of cheerful chatter pulling you forward. The curve of your waist, accentuated by the comfortable fit of your shorts, swayed with an effortless rhythm that seemed to draw his attention without hesitation.

Your hair cascaded down your back, strands catching the soft morning light filtering through the hallway.

A stray piece slipped forward, brushing against your cheek, and you absentmindedly tucked it behind your ear as you walked. Gojo’s gaze followed the gesture, tracing the movement of your fingers as if captivated by the simple grace of it.

The faint rise and fall of your shoulders, the casual way you let one arm swing freely at your side, all painted a picture of ease and warmth in his eyes.

Even the way your bare legs caught the light—soft, unassuming, but undeniably alluring—made it impossible for him to look away.

Gojo’s fingers flexed briefly at his sides, the material of his sweats soft against his palms as if grounding him. The hum of conversation ahead mingled with the quiet rustle of your movements, but for a moment, everything else seemed muted, secondary to the way you filled the space in front of him.

As you disappeared around the corner, leaving behind the faintest hint of your scent and the lingering warmth of your presence, Gojo straightened slightly before following.

His lips twitched into a softer smile, one that carried no teasing edge, only the silent admiration of someone witnessing something rare and extraordinary.

The soft hum of conversation fills the living room as you step in, the warmth of the space enveloping you. Nobara, Yuji, and Megumi are comfortably settled, each of them chatting as they sip their drinks or lounge. Nanami stands by the kitchen counter, looking sharp as ever in his polished attire, casually enjoying a cup of coffee. He nods in greeting, his expression calm and professional as always.

"Good morning, everyone," you say with a bright smile, taking a moment to enjoy the normalcy of the moment. The others return the greeting, their voices cheerful and light.

Before you can settle into the space, Gojo enters the room behind you, his presence immediately drawing attention.

He carries himself with that familiar casual confidence, and Nobara’s eyes narrow with a playful gleam. She stands up, a teasing grin spreading across her face as she looks between you and Gojo.

“Hold on,” she says, her tone dripping with mischief, “you two are walking in here at the same time. Did you sleep together last night?”

The words hang in the air for a split second, the room falling into an almost surreal silence. You freeze, a slight shock spreading across your face.

"Wha—?" You sputter, your cheeks immediately turning bright red as the question catches you completely off guard.

"N-No, of course not!" You quickly add, your voice stumbling over the words as you try to recover from the sudden embarrassment.

The moment feels like it stretches on forever, your heart racing, and you desperately try to look anywhere but at Gojo, but his presence behind you is undeniable.

Just as you’re about to say something to clarify, you feel Gojo’s arm slip around your shoulders, pulling you a little closer to him.

The touch is casual, like he’s done it a thousand times, but you can feel the warmth of his body, the way his proximity heightens the tension.

With a smirk that’s so typical of him, Gojo leans down just a little, his breath warm against your ear as he speaks.

“Maybe we did," he says, his voice teasing, almost a whisper. "But you’re too young to hear all the juicy details, Kugasaki."

The words hit you like a wave, and your face immediately floods with heat, your embarrassment reaching new heights.

You felt your entire body tense, the warmth spreading from your cheeks to the tips of your ears, and your heart seemed to be beating in your throat.

You glance up at Gojo, who’s now looking down at you with that infuriatingly playful grin of his, completely unfazed by the effect his words are having.

You blink rapidly, trying to process what just happened.

“Uh-Satoru!” You stammer, shoving him away, caught in the whirlwind of emotions. You’re completely flustered now, unable to look him—let's be honest—everyone in the eye, your hands instinctively coming up to hide your face. “I— I wasn’t— I didn’t—”

Gojo’s grin only widens, clearly enjoying every second of your reaction. The others in the room have gone silent, some of them snickering quietly, while Megumi, who’s trying not to laugh, looks away, his face flushed as he silently prays for the situation to end.

Yuji, with his usual lack of tact, blurts out, “Whoa, Gojo-sensei, you're really gonna tease her like that?!”

Nobara laughed loudly, clearly not letting the moment go. “God y/n, you’re easy to embarrass.” She teases, winking at you both.

But you’re too embarrassed to deal with them right now, your heart racing, your mind scrambling for anything to say to salvage the situation.

You can’t help but wish the ground would swallow you whole. Your hands drop to your sides, and you try to steady your breath, but it’s clear you’re flustered beyond reason.

Gojo, still with his arm around you, leans in a little closer, his tone light but with a hint of something deeper beneath it.

"Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone think we're that scandalous... yet," he adds with a wink, his presence making it impossible to escape the lingering rose-coloured flush that’s spread across your face and chest.

For the next few moments, you remain quiet, the world around you feeling almost too loud with their teasing and laughter.

Finally, you manage to muster a response, though your voice is still tinged with the remnants of your flustered state. “You all suck,” you say, throwing your hands up in mock defeat.

The words come out sharper than you intended, but the playful exasperation in your tone softens the delivery.

Nobara cackles, clearly revelling in your reaction. “Aww, don’t be mad, y/n! We’re just looking out for you… in our own special way,” she teases, her grin widening as Yuji snickers beside her.

Megumi, as usual, stays quieter than the rest but raises an eyebrow in mild amusement, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Even Nanami, who had been attempting to enjoy his coffee in peace, lets out a quiet sigh, the tiniest flicker of amusement breaking through his composed demeanor.

Gojo chuckled softly beside you, before nudging you slightly. “They’re just jealous,” he says, his voice rich with amusement.

“After all, who wouldn’t want to spend a night with me?” He flashed his signature grin, but his gaze lingered on you a moment too long, making your stomach flip.

“Ughhh,” you groan, throwing a glance toward the kitchen. “You’re all impossible. I’m going to take a shower before I lose any more brain cells trying to keep up with you people.”

Turning on your heel, you stride toward the hallway with as much dignity as you can manage, though you can still hear Nobara’s laughter trailing behind you.

“Oh, come on, y/n! Don’t be shy!” She calls, her teasing voice echoing through the room.

You roll your eyes, determined to ignore the heat still blooming across your cheeks. As you disappear down the hall, you faintly hear Gojo’s voice, low and mischievous as ever.

“She’s so cute when she’s embarrassed,” he says, and though you’re out of sight, you can feel the grin in his words.

Your only response is to quicken your pace, silently cursing everyone in that living room while trying—and failing—to push the image of Gojo’s teasing smirk out of your mind.

—

The early-afternoon sun hung high overhead as you made your way to the courtyard, phone in hand, rereading the message Gojo had sent in a groupchat:

"Courtyard in 10. It’s time to get serious for once, don’t be late or else…🤞🤌🫴🟣”

When you arrived, Gojo was already there, lounging casually on one of the benches, legs spread wide open and a lollipop sticking out of his mouth.

Around him, Megumi sat with his usual unamused expression, Nobara adjusted her jacket as if preparing for a battle, and Yuji looked like he was ready for anything except a lecture.

Nanami was also there, standing behind the bench that Gojo was sprawled out on, looking as serious as ever.

You hesitated before stepping into the circle of their chatter, and Gojo immediately perked up. “Finally! You kept me waiting—are you trying to play hard to get or something?” He teased, gesturing grandly for you to join.

You didn’t need to look to see the amused smirks on Yuji and Nobara’s faces as you tried to ignore the feeling of your cheeks turning pink. “You’re impossible…” you groaned before taking a seat on the bench beside Megumi.

Gojo stood up from his spot on the parallel bench and clapped his hands together, instantly commanding everyone’s attention. “Alright, team! It’s time to get down to business and come up with a plan.”

Gojo gave an exaggerated sigh, placing one hand on his hip and pointing the lollipop toward Nanami like it was some sort of divine truth.

“As much as I enjoy Nanami’s thrilling company—his stories about balancing work and existential despair are truly a delight—I didn’t invite him to join us just for that.”

Nanami’s gaze hardened, a subtle twitch of irritation pulling at his brow, but he said nothing. Gojo smirked at the lack of response before twirling the lollipop between his fingers and popping it back into his mouth.

“No, the real reason I gathered this little dream team,” he continued, his tone shifting just slightly to something more serious, “is because it’s time to stop dancing around the obvious. We’ve got confirmation now—Geto is somehow involved.”

The name dropped like a stone into the group, the air suddenly taut with tension. Megumi’s brows furrowed deeply, his hands clasping together in thought.

Nobara folded her arms, her sharp gaze darting to Yuji, who leaned forward, his expression grave. Even Nanami’s usual stoicism darkened, his hand reflexively moving to adjust his tie.

You stiffened at the name, remembering the way Gojo had tensed when he first brought up Geto to you in passing. There was history there, Geto was once a very important person to Gojo—this much you knew.

Megumi’s voice broke the silence, his tone laced with confusion and something just short of disbelief. “Wait, I thought last December you…” He trailed off, but the implication in his words hung in the air like a storm cloud.

Gojo’s grin faltered, just for a fraction of a second. It was barely perceptible, but to those who knew him well, it was enough to betray a crack in his usual unshakable demeanour. He slipped the lollipop from his mouth and twirled it in his fingers, staring at it as if it held all the answers.

“Ah, Megumi,” Gojo said finally, his voice light but carrying an undertone of weariness, “always asking the tough questions.”

Megumi’s frown deepened, and his fingers tightened around each other. “You told me you handled it—handled him. So how is he suddenly involved again?”

Nobara glanced between the two, clearly out of the loop but unwilling to interrupt. Yuji looked equally confused, his gaze darting from Megumi to Gojo, while Nanami’s expression turned sharper, his jaw tightening as if he’d already pieced together what was being implied.

Gojo sighed and finally met Megumi’s eyes. For once, there was no teasing lilt in his voice, no hint of the untroubled mask he usually wore. “I did handle it. Geto…Suguru died that night, Megumi. I was there. I made sure of it.”

The weight in Gojo’s words made your stomach twist uncomfortably. You could tell this wasn’t a subject he revisited lightly.

“Then how—” Megumi started, but Gojo cut him off with a raised hand.

“I don’t know how,” he admitted, his tone sharper now, the lollipop stick snapping in two between his fingers. He dropped the broken stick into his pocket and exhaled slowly, trying to regain his composure. “But it’s him. Or something that looks like him. Feels like him.”

Nanami finally spoke, his voice steady but laced with concern. “Are you suggesting a curse technique—possibly involving possession? Or something even more dangerous?��

“Could be,” Gojo said with a shrug that didn’t quite mask the tension in his shoulders. “Could be something else entirely. But one thing’s for sure: Geto—or whatever he is now—wants to stir the pot. And he’s starting with y/n.”

Your breath hitched at the mention of your name, and everyone’s eyes instinctively flicked to you.

“This is why we need a plan,” Gojo continued, his voice taking on an edge of finality.

“Because if there’s one thing I know about Suguru, it’s that he doesn’t do anything halfway. And if he’s alive—or whatever this version of him is—he’s playing for keeps.”

Silence fell over the group again, the gravity of the situation sinking in. Even Yuji, usually first to break the tension with a joke or a question, looked uncharacteristically serious.

“What’s the plan, then?” Megumi asked, his voice steady despite the uncertainty in his eyes.

Gojo’s grin returned, though it lacked its usual mischievous flair. “That’s what we’re here to figure out. So, ideas, anyone? C’mon, don’t be shy!”

He spread his arms wide, trying to inject a sense of levity into the moment, but the look in his eyes told you he wasn’t taking this lightly—not one bit.

The silence that followed was thick, broken only by the distant sound of a bird chirping somewhere beyond the courtyard. Everyone exchanged hesitant glances, as if waiting for someone else to speak first.

Nobara finally crossed her arms, her expression determined. “Well, if this Geto guy is targeting y/n, then maybe we should use that to our advantage. Draw him out somehow.”

Yuji nodded slowly, though he didn’t look entirely convinced. “Yeah, but wouldn’t that put y/n in even more danger?”

“That’s kind of the point, isn’t it?” Nobara shot back, her sharp words landing with a weight that hung in the air. But then her eyes softened when they flicked toward you, her rigid demeanour easing. “Not that I’m saying we should just throw you into the fire or anything. But if he’s already after you, then…”

The shift in the group’s focus pressed down on you, heavy and inescapable. Your shoulders tightened under the collective gaze, heat prickling at the back of your neck. The words Nobara said felt like an exposed wire, sparking against something raw inside.

Your hands settled in your lap, fingers twitching slightly as they pressed against the fabric of your pants. The instinct to shrink back warred with the need to show strength.

You straightened a little, enough to steady your breathing, before forcing the words past a lump in your throat. “I don’t want to be a liability,” you said, the softness in your voice at odds with the way your chest tightened further. “If we need to use me as bait, then—”

Your mouth felt dry, the air too still as the sentence hung there, unfinished. The word “bait” left a taste like rust on your tongue, the implications pulling taut like a cord around your chest. Every muscle seemed to brace, waiting, anticipating.

“No,” Gojo interrupted sharply, his usual carefree tone replaced by something far colder. He stepped forward, his sunglasses catching the sunlight in a way that obscured his expression.

Gojo’s interruption landed with a force that silenced the courtyard, the single word resonating like the crack of a whip.

The shift in his conduct was immediate, palpable—a storm sweeping over the sunlit space. Gone was his usual carefree aura, replaced by something colder, sharper, and unyielding.

The sunlight hit his sunglasses at just the right angle, turning the lenses into impenetrable mirrors that reflected everything but revealed nothing. His jaw tightened, the subtle clench of muscle betraying a restraint that seemed almost unnatural for him.

“No, that is not an option.” He repeated, his words sharper than usual as he spoke.

The silence that followed Gojo’s words was heavy, almost suffocating, as if the courtyard itself held its breath.

Your gaze flickered to his, searching for any trace of levity, but the mirrored lenses of his sunglasses revealed nothing. His stance, rigid and purposeful, made it clear that the line he’d drawn wasn’t up for debate.

“But if Geto is after me—” You began, your voice unsteady.

Gojo raised a hand, halting your words mid-sentence. “He might be after you, but I’m not letting you become his pawn.” The words were resolute, carrying an undercurrent of something more—something protective, fierce, and unyielding.

Nobara shifted awkwardly, glancing between you and Gojo. “I mean, nobody wants y/n to be in danger,” she said, softer now, “but we have to figure out how to deal with him. If he’s already targeting her, then—”

“He’s targeting her because it’s what he wants us to focus on,” Nanami interjected, his voice cutting cleanly through the growing debate.

He stepped forward, his measured tone and composed presence grounding the group’s spiralling emotions. “Geto is calculated. If we make a move without fully understanding his intentions, we’ll be playing right into his hands.”

The group turned to Nanami, the shift in attention like a collective exhale. His steady demeanour was a balm against the growing unease.

“So what do we do, then?” Yuji asked, his brows drawn together in confusion.

Nanami adjusted his tie, his gaze sweeping over each of you before landing on Gojo.

“We outthink him. We anticipate his next move and ensure that we’re not reacting to him—we’re controlling the situation. That starts with understanding exactly why he’s fixated on y/n and what he’s hoping to gain from her involvement.”

Gojo tilted his head, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips, though his tone remained serious. “That’s why you’re here, Nanami. Always the practical one.”

Nanami gave a curt nod. “And someone has to be. Now, let’s start pooling what we know—no guesswork, just facts.”

The group shifted, the earlier tension easing slightly as they began discussing potential leads and piecing together Geto’s motives. Even Gojo seemed to relax, his posture softening as he leaned against a nearby tree, though his gaze never fully left you.

As the brainstorming began in earnest, you found yourself exhaling a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

The heaviness in your chest didn’t vanish entirely, but the weight was shared now, distributed among the people who, despite their differences, had one unifying goal: to protect each other—and you.

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frostara · 3 days ago

Text

Challenges

Cregan Stark x Karstark!Female

Synopsis: It takes some time to get to know each other, and lots of words to understand.

Wordcount: 2k

Tags: characters miscommunicate at first, but overall fluff, Cregan is 17, Astrid is 15

Notes: Hi! This could be read as chapter 2 for this work, but does pretty well on its own. All thanks to one person who asked for a second part - I hope you'll like it </3 I wanted to describe Cregan and Astrid the way they are - youthful people, with their own beliefs that are sometimes wrong (Astrid is so silly I love her) and quick to change temper. I worked on this drabble a little harder and hopefully, it was worth it!

Winterfell was like a living being—always alert and ready, yet calm and composed. It thrived with the quiet bustle of its people, the rustle of dry bushes, and cold of its stone walls. A guarded place, where the only thing Astrid had to worry about was herself. At least for now.

One moon have passed since she was wed to the Lord of the Winterfell, and yet, she felt rather wary of him. Cregan, whom she called so yet in her mind, was always surrounded by either maister-at-arms or castellan, which left her seeking his attention that he could not give.

Though, Astrid would be forever ungrateful if said that she was entirely alone. She had grown quite fond of maester Alvin, an old grey-haired man, but skilled and cunning like no one. He often inquired after her well-being with genuine courtesy and shared his wise thoughts, for which she was forever grateful.

Yet the companionship of one old master could not fill the void of loneliness. Her handmaidens, taught to serve their lady quietly, rarely spoke unless adressed directly. To make them speak freely was a challenge, but one she welcomed.

"My Lady, Lord Cregan sent me to let it be known that he awaits you in Godswood, and I am to accompany You on Your way," said Ethel as she entered chambers after a gentle knock. She was a pretty girl, not much older than Astrid, and probably the one she was fond of.

"Right. Well then, let us not keep the Lord waiting," - Astrid replied, standing perhaps more quickly than intended, letting Ethel drape a warm cloak over her frame to shield her from wind in this chilly weather.

As they made their way, her nervousness spilled in questions she bothered Ethel with: "Was Lord in a good mood? Did he seem upset with anything? Was he alone?" She could swear on all Old Gods that Ethel was laughing at her, but skillfully maintained her composure. Though, Astrid was too nervous to pay attention to that, pressing on. Luckily, the walk was short, and soon they were able to see the red leaves that framed the massive tree. Ethel bowed and turned her back, leaving Astrid to herself.

She took a moment to steady herself before stepping closer to where Cregan stood. She felt cold seep through her body, making her shiver. Heart tree was there, proudly emracing everything with its branches as if hiding from the sky. He looked like a real Stark, in a place he was always supposed to be. And Astrid was just a huble guest, even if being his wife. Light wind was playing with his dark hair, moving leaves casting shadows on his stern face.

"My Lord wished to see me?"

He turned to face her, his black eyes softening slightly as a polite smile tugged at his lips. "I did. I wish to know how my Lady fares."

Cregan walked towards her, and it was only then that she noticed a crimson leaf he was holding in his hand. She returned his smile, though uncertain of what to say. He seemed to be unbothered by silence that layed between them, as he studied her appearance. During their wedding he barely payed attention to her. Perhaps, that was why he was observing her so carefully now.

"I am very happy to be here," - Astrid nodded to her words, as if to make sure he believed her. "Winterfell does not cease to amaze me."

Cregan hummed to himself, not really putting his mind to her words. He seemed lost in thoughts, and these thoughts were far away from here. Far from her. She felt subtle sting in her when she thought of it. Why did he call her, if he still did not care about her being?

He was still holding the leaf in his callused hands, twirling it with his fingers when he brought it to her, putting it in her braided hair.

"Red suits you well. Has anyone told you that before?"

He murmured, seeming to be pleased with his work, running his fingers along her braid, his lingering touch leaving Astrid speechless. Her eyes widened as she tried to hide her confusion. He was gentle, almost reverent, and it warmed her heart in a way she never felt before. Was this the first time he truly saw her as a wife?

"No, my Lord. I believe you are the first to notice."

Cregan took his hand away from her hair, offering his elbow for her to grab. "Very well. Let us walk, I would not wish for you to get cold while standing here," - as he put his hand on his sword.

Astrid hesitated a moment before wrapping her fingers around his clothed arm, feeling the soft fur and fabric of his cloack, contrasting with his cold and rough to touch sword, accepting the offer. It pleased her more than she cared to admit to spend time with him in the godswood, a sacred place. Though it was still a mystery to her, what made him be so attentive to her today?

It was very quiet there, only rare birds chirping and leaves rustle could be heard. Astrid took a deep breath, enjoying frosty and fresh air that smelled of wood and earth. She found this moment very peaceful, this walk was a sweet gesture and it was not nice of her to doubt her husbands kindness.

"I have been thinking about our marriage," Cregan began after a while. "It seems to me that I have not fulfilled my duties to you. For this, I ask your understanding, and, perhaps, your forgiveness."

Cregan turned his gaze to her, awaiting what she has to say. She was now taken aback by his words. A suspicious thought was starting to form in her head - his previous behaviour could not be judged, it fitted his position. But these gentle words now were not sounding like the ones he would actually say. An odd feeling took place in her, yet, she could only listen to him right now.

"It is no secret to me how tiring your position may be," she started carefully. "And I could never hold it against you."

She studied his face, searching for any sign of anger or discomfort. Yet a gnawing curiosity urged her to push further. Astrid evased any other words from him, now being curious to get an answer for her thoughts:

"My Lord, if I may ask, did someone suggest that you speak to me like that?" - she stopped, making her husband follow her action, now facing each other. He was confused, and he could not hide that, making it obvious he was not prepared for such confrontation. Astrid believed there was also a hint of irritation in his expression.

"In what way are you implying this?" he asked, his tone guarded but lacking the harshness she feared.

Cregan even forgot to adress her properly. It made Astrid smile ever so slightly, now making her scared that she could offend him with her words.

"Do not misunderstand me, my Lord, but your actions are...rather opposing your character, which makes me suggest that you might have sought an advice about our relationship from someone."

She tried her best to sound friendly and not too arrogant, but confused look on his face eased her worries - he probably could not be angry with her now, that he looked so amusing. Astrid awaited patiently, when he finally spoke up.

"First of all, do not jest with me in such a way," he replied, his voice firm but lacking true anger. "I may be your husband, but my behavior is none of yours to question."

He glanced away, looking in direction of a bird that landed on a low-hanging branch nearby. The pause gave Astrid a moment to collect herself, and she only smiled at her thoughts, now being more confident to continue.

"Forgive me," her tone sincere. "I only wanted to make sure I understood the situation well." She reached out, lightly tugging on his sleeve to draw his attention back to her. The gesture startled him, and instinctively, he caught her hand in his. For a moment, they stood frozen, her smaller hand caught in his. He did not let go, and his grip, though firm, was not harsh.

Wind sent another gust as couple of bright red leaves fell from tree, falling at their legs. Laying onthe ground, they could be mistaken for small pools of blood. It sent a shiver down Astrid's spine, the movement was visible for Cregan. It made him snap from frozen state as he let her hand hung in the air, bringing his own to his sword, slight embarrasment from an intimate moment made him cough, as if to shift their attention away.

But Astrid still was confused. Was she right then? Perhaps, her behaviour made it impossible for her Lord to seek her company? She felt nervousness fill her heart once again, making her clasp her hands together on stomach, as if trying to calm herself down.

"Maester Alvin is someone you could consider guilty," Cregan's voice cut through silence, breaking the formed pause.

"Though, I believe, his intentions were kind."

"Should I be grateful for it then?" she bit on her inner cheeck, fidgeting with cold fingers. Astrid felt emarrased: she probably looked so stupid right now; her concern made her act very rude, or atleast, that is what she believed.

"You could at least try to not to be mad at me."

He rubbed the back of his neck, as if looking for the right words. The situation they currently trapped themselves in was quite awkward. Astrid hummed softly at his words in an attemp to answer, but words would get stuck in her throat.

"I am not mad, my Lord" - it was all she could mutter, before quickly facing him away. She was definetly not acting like a modest lady right now. But who was to blame for that?

"Cregan."

Astrid blinked, turning her head back at her husband.

"Call me by my name. You are my wife, you have such right." He shrugged, an unsure smile tugging at his lips.

This time, he held out his hand to her.

"I believe we will have many days to continue this argument, if you wish that," she took his hand, now holding it gently, but with a firm grip, returning his favour as she unconsciously smiled herself.

"But we had spent more than we should have time here. Let us head back to castle, before anyone starts looking for us."

Their way back was more pleasant, as the silence that followed them was now a welcomed one, sometimes interrupted with quiet laughter.

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livefromthedas · 1 day ago

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That Time Flirting Accidentally Worked

(Also up on AAO3, here)

Summary:

Rook Ingellvar, famously a dumpster fire amongst Mourn Watchers, manages to fall face-first into dating one Emmrich Volkarin.

Nice.

Notes:

I swear to God I intended to start DATV fanfic writing for my Lucanis/Rook playthrough... but this came out instead. Strike while the hyper-focus iron is hot, I guess.

I tried to write this Rook (F, Mourn Watcher) as vaguely as possible while still making sure she was reflection of the character in my head, so hopefully that works for readers.

Please note that while I'm utilizing quite a bit of canon knowledge about Navarra and Navarran culture, here, there is also a ton about the place that we just do no know, so a lot of information here is extrapolated (aka, pulled directly out of my butt.) I had fun though, at least, exploring more of the place, and creating my own little pocket of extra romance content for Emmrich and Rook as well.

And yeah, this will probably get spicy. Just a heads up.

———————————

Chapter 1: Hot Date for a Hot Mess

The needling fire of over-exertion kept a purposeful momentum in Rook’s stride the entire journey home from their latest magic-riddled battle with the Venatori in Arlathan.

That fight, deep in the autumn hewn forest - an apparent ambush - had been jarring and brutal. Had Davrin not been with them, with Assan to serve as their own surprise attack from the sky, Rook was quite certain that, for all of their combined competency, she and Emmrich Volkarin may very well have met a swift, very bloody end that day.

There had just been so many of them - Scarlet scythe’s crackling with arcane energy, and corrupted magic churning in the air like a turbulent storm. Then again, when it came to Venatori, there always seemed to be a limitless supply.

Rook breathed in deep as she strode through the Vi’revas - the eluvian unique to the Dreadwolf’s hideaway in the Fade - close on Emmrich’s heels. One moment they were in the Crossroads, wild and untethered to reality as it was. The next, they were striding into the cool, dark nethers of the Lighthouse.

“Ugh,” Davrin grumbled, reaching to pull something that looked suspiciously like viscera from his hair as he strode through the eluvian’s surface in the pair of necromancers' wakes, “I’m going to go wash up. See you two at dinner?”

Rook smirked bemusedly - of all of the blood the Gray Warden was soaked through with, Maker forbid a bit of viscera get in the handsome elf’s hair. She nearly went to nod, when Emmrich spun on his heels to face the pair of them.

“Actually,” the Professor poised, hands clasping before him as his bangles glimmered in the unnatural light of the corridor, “Would you be so kind as to let Lucanis know to be expecting two less settings at the table this evening? Rook and I will be dining in Navarra.”

Rook’s eyebrows rose curiously - this was news to her.

“Yeah, no problem,” Davrin grinned. He gestured a hand over one shoulder as he made for the door, “You kids have fun.”

Kids . The word lingered humorously in the air - Emmrich barely stifled a chuckle at it, even in the gray warden’s absence.

“A trip home is a nice surprise,” Rook mused, mischief and curiosity a glint in her eyes.

The senior necromancer, dashing as ever, offered her an arm, and she was quick to place a hand at his elbow as he guided them from the room, and up the stairs.

“Forgive me, darling, I had hoped to ask you properly once we were settled in,” Emmrich said, gloved hand resting warmly upon the slender hand she’d offered him, “Reservations at the Pnemoix are scarce at best this time of year, and I received word of an opening just prior to our departure to Arlathan.”

“Yeah, that got chaotic rather quickly,” Rook admitted, ever as tired, but relieved they were alive to tell the tale at all. For all of her raised hackles that needled up her spine over the ambush in the woods, a tickle of excitement wiggled its way into her belly, “And I’ve heard of the Pnemoix!” Her sudden excitement was palpable. Word amongst her peers back at the Necropolis had it that the Pnemoix was one of the most exclusive- and enchanting - dining experiences in all of Navarra City. It was not far from the city’s main entrance to the Grand Necropolis itself, in fact. Emmrich could scarcely stifle the humorous glimmer in his eyes as the bounce in her step hastened as they strode. He finally slipped a chuckle when her expression then screwed with uncertainty, “Aren’t they ridiculously expensive, though?”

“Hardly any concern of yours, my darling,” Emmrich laughed.

Cresting the top of the stairs that overlooked the Lighthouse’s eerie library, the Professor stopped before the long hall that led to his study. Rook watched curiously as something shifted in his demeanor - warm laughter settling into something warmer still, slender hands and their menagerie of golden rings gracing her arms with an almost reverential care.

“I had hoped, should the temptation arise,” Rook felt a wildfire blush ignite to the tips of her ears at his sudden unusually intimate word choice, before he’d so much as finished his sentence, “We may enjoy the privacy an overnight at home might afford us.”

Emmrich’s grin broadened at the blatant blush that flooded the young woman’s typically cocksure expression, a softness in his gaze despite the hint of mischief that lingered there, “You so scarcely find a moment alone in the Lighthouse, my love. You’ll forgive an old man his selfish desire for attention undivided.”

“I-I… of course,” Rook managed, despite her blush, a dizzying flutter in her chest and her tongue-tie of nerves.

“And the decision is entirely yours,” her breath caught in her throat as he pressed a kiss upon her forehead, one hand affectionately upon the back of her head, “But do consider it, darling, hmm?” He seemed absolutely tickled at Rook’s uncharacteristic shyness as she nodded, green eyes alight with racing thoughts. This was hardly a woman prone to speechlessness, after all. “I’m going to change, and request Neve look after Manfred until we return. Meet me at the Vi’Revas when you’re ready.”

Rook managed a nod before Emmrich swept off airily, stride as confident as ever.

——————-

“Okay… Oookay,” Rook finally managed to breathe again once the ancient chamber doors of her quarters sealed shut behind her. Gaze darting around the dancing light of the aquarium that dominated the far wall, she huffed a ragged sigh, palm to her forehead.

Embarrassment immediately flooded her veins.

“He finally brings it up and you… freeze? Seriously?” She groaned morosely.

At best, Rook was disappointed. It was hardly how she’d imagined reacting to such an opportunity, after all. The Rook of her imagination was unflappable in her confidence - *she* surely would have managed an air of alluring …. *Something* in response to such a proposition. A wicked flirt. A lingering kiss. A clever quip of any make or model at all.

But no. Only overwhelm. Rook had been flooded with a timidness utterly foreign to her usually fearless brogue.

Scythe-wielding Venatori, raging demons, blighted gods… Such larger than life dangers too surreal and too vast to seem anything shy of absurd? That she could handle with a finesse and fearlessness that defied logic. It was precisely why Varric had brought her into the fold in the fight against Fen’Harel to begin with.

“But actually have the fellow you’ve been pining over for the last decade make a pass at you, and your brain breaks ? Maferath’s balls.”

The sordid swear she’d picked up from Varric early in their journeys together at least managed a smile from the woman. She shoved off from the door, kicking off muddied boots and unbuckling the patina’d gloves of her Mourn Watcher gauntlets as she went.

Rook had had little choice but to be honest with the Professor once her shoot-for-the-moon flirtations had, to her own genuine surprise, actually succeeded in swaying his interest so many weeks prior.

This was all… very new to the junior Mourn Watcher. So much of her time growing up had been spent clawing desperately for a sense of self. For the sort of identity that a complete lack of kith, kin or clan denied her for the whole of recent memory. Certainly until one Varric Tethras had swaggered his way into her life and corralled her under his wing.

Something as complicated as dating just never found its foothold with her focus, amid so many years of simply trying to find herself.

She was an elf in a largely human community, a non magic user - despite her endless fascination with the craft - in a society that prized its mages above all. Both facts of which pushed many of her superiors throughout her collegiate studies to blow off and even mock her ambitions towards more magic-focused areas of study.

Rook was an academic at heart - A voracious learner and reader. But for all of her passion, she was still very much an outsider. She was the foundling discovered abandoned deep within the Necropolis - lucky to have been found alive at all - Taken in by a kind and doting pair of elderly Mortalitasi, Gunter and Eloise Ingellvar, who had even gone as far as bequeathing their inheritance to her upon the last of their dual deaths some years later.

But they had gone too soon - Rook had barely been 12 when the old woman had died - and she was once again left as a ward of the Necropolis and its Watchers, who seemed to see less value in an orphaned elf with no magical talents to speak of. Frequently outright denied access to her preferred areas of study due to their prized and limited availability (such courses should be reserved for mages who might make the most use of them after all, and the university’s donors were rife with promising young mages as heirs) she was relegated, instead, to training as a fighter. A protector. A watcher of the Watchers themselves.

Just one extra corpse between demons and the ones whose work actually matters, more like, she thought. She swung open her ornate wardrobe, eyes scanning her limited choice in clothing critically as her thoughts poured from one memory to the next.

Those days were rife with turmoil. Rook had volleyed equally between hours of grueling fight and defense training, classes in basic sciences, necromancy, anatomy, funerary preparations and the Fade, and time dedicated purely to stirring up shit in the streets of Navarra City.

Fights. Petty theft. Stirring up chaos in the market square with a prank or three - one of which had, to her own amusement and pride to that very day, saw a surprisingly large number of bees in a leading role.

Throughout her years of collegiate learning, Rook carried the rage of a clever mind stifled and of dreams dashed, and it had landed her under the threadbare patience and steely gaze of the headmaster more times than she could count. That the Mourn Watch had been tasked with her care as much as her training was likely the only reason she hadn’t been thrown out for good.

It also hadn’t hurt that Rook had proven incredibly adept at combat despite her general lack of interest in the task (outside of a good tavern fistfight, at least.) There was also the curiosity that was her study habits. Her grades in basic courses were passable at best from sheer lack of interest, yet when time and little pockets of determination allowed, she could be found holed up in the Necropolis’s expansive library for hours, even days on end, pouring over every tomb her low-level clearance would allow, creating many tombs further of dense, meticulously detailed notes.

She was at least trying, in her own way, her superiors knew. And where their interest in her full potential failed her, her own thirst for learning minded the gap. Even if she was denied the chance to pursue her major of choice… lectures in the Grand Necropolis’s halls of learning were as free and frequent as the availability and seating of its various expansive lecture halls would allow.

Those educational sermons were hardly for the faint of heart or feeble of mind. They required many dedicated hours, copious notes, and a level of existing understanding of necromancy, the occult and Navarran history as a whole that *should* have been enough to bar a student of Rook’s study tract access by sheer lack of access to advanced classes alone.

But Rook had done the work. Had soaked up every scrap and parcel of knowledge she could, entirely on her own. And in each and every lecture, perched dutifully in the shadows at the back of the room, she soared.

Which was precisely where the good Professor had graced her peripherals, time and time again.

Even nearly a decade prior, Professor Emmrich Volkarin was something of a legend on campus. Prodigiously intelligent and equally skilled in both oration and genuine fondness for the eager young minds he fostered, Rook was hardly immune from the childish swooning over the otherwise utterly unattainable genius that captivated his students with every speech and demonstration.

“Volkarin’s hangers-on.”

Johanna Hezenkoss’s recent jeer at Rook’s expense still made her cheeks run hot. Rook had never been that - certainly not as the insult Hezenkoss intended.

But Rook and Emmrich were both well aware of whom the half-Litch referred to.

Hair a little darker and warm eyes a little bit brighter then, The Professor was too clever and adept at reading people around him to have remained oblivious to the fact that not only were the large majority of doe-eyed students trailing him from office to lectern and back largely of the female variety, but they were also almost always a bit more coy than was comfortable to be sharing a room with for too long. It was always impressive, then, to Rook, just how coolly and kindly said attentions were quite unanimously blown off by Emmrich himself.

He was never once cruel or condescending, but ever the consummate professional. He paid his students’ motivations no mind outside of whatever question he was fielding, or what knowledge he wished to impart, either.

Rook later overheard whispers among a gaggle of gossiping young mages in the privy that, apparently, “half of the fun” of flirting with the man to begin with was trying to “find a crack” in their charming yet unflappably stoic Professor’s perfectly tailored facade.

Of which there was nary a one, as far as Rook knew at the time. The man simply did not budge.

Which was why, despite never having had the stones to so much as approach Professor Volkarin with a question before meeting with him in the catacombs with Bellara months prior, and with nearly ten years of confidence that only incredibly hard work and some life experience could provide, Rook was genuinely floored when her own good-humored and (mostly) unserious swings at flirting with the man *actually worked.*

Rook had only dared shoot her shot with the man with the full confidence that in all likelihood (and at absolute worst) he would simply glance past the attention with his usual jovial kindness. She took a swing at it for younger-Rook, who would have thought it the coolest thing ever, future-Rook finding the sort of confidence her younger self found so foreign.

And the man actually expressed interest. Just fully (warmly as ever but with a degree of coyness Rook had no idea actually existed prior) stated that if, in fact, her projected interest went beyond mere flattery… he was down.

“Hell of a bullseye on the first draw, there, Ingellvar,” she had mused to herself and inevitably shared with Emmrich multiple times since, much to the Professor’s amusement.

Rook pulled the only pretty, non-Mourn Watch related article of clothing she owned - a deep purple gown and its immaculately tailored overcoat - from the wardrobe, before clipping the doors shut with her heel.

Naive shock aside, it wasn’t as though Rook hadn’t been equally delighted by Emmrich’s unexpected response. She had become even more enamored with the fellow in the past many months, as he spoke with her not as a student but as a colleague. An equal.

He adored her thoughts and her intellectual curiosity, and had said as much - often. He was ever the academic, as enthusiastic about answering any question she had as she was to learn the answer. But he was also genuinely interested in all of the knowledge she had gathered in the past ten years - Her interests in Navarran archeology within the ever-ancient Necropolis halls. His in Necromancy and the Fade. It had become a frequent, deeply adored line of conversation between the two of them, in fact - just how often their individual fields of study crossed in application.

Emmrich Volkarin was every bit as charming as his passionate yet professional demeanor would imply. But what Rook came to learn very quickly upon reconnecting with the man was that, on a personal level, he was one of the most compassionate individuals Rook had ever met. He cared deeply, about everything - particularly, it seemed, about the ragtag troop of adventurers she and Neve had since managed to assemble. At 52 years of age, he also, as it turned out, had zero qualms about dating someone - regardless of gender persuasion - over 20 years his junior. He’d simply taken his work as an educator far too seriously when he was young enough to find any interest in university students, let alone misuse the power dynamic between teacher and pupil - and they had, decades later, well since lost their appeal.

So, now, here she was. Two months into the most absurdly romantic courtship she could imagine, given the sheer chaos that surrounded them otherwise.

Fancy dinners. Time spent exploring the Necropolis to feel more grounded - that little bit of home going a long way to keeping them both fixed on the battles that just kept on coming. A recent night stroll through the streets of Navarra City during the ancestral pageants, their darkly artful city glistening with lanterns and wisps.

Emmrich Volkarin was ever a man of his word, too. Early on, when a bashful Rook mentioned her lack of experience in any such relationship, he had promised they’d take things slow, and they absolutely had. Endeared and warm as they were, his kisses were chaste, and his presence around her respectful of her space and autonomy. It had only been since she had started pushing boundaries that he had reciprocated in kind.

Longer, deeper kisses. Tousled hair. Hands wandering with far more bravery - and far more urgency - from both parties, amidst long nights full of even longer conversations.

The cracks in Emmrich Volkarin’s perfectly tailored facade were showing. And, Rook grinned to herself despite the blush reaching her ears, they were admittedly * delicious.*

Rook fastened the copper skull-shaped buttons upon her overcoat before fishing for Varric’s shaving mirror and checking her hair.

She wasn’t entirely sure how she’d expected the acceleration of their relationship to go. Perhaps more spontaneously, and likely in the Lighthouse, despite neither of them having particularly comfortable quarters - his with little more than a cot to sleep on that was otherwise hidden away, and her own space often as chilly as being overlooked by an enormous deep water aquarium would imply.

She certainly didn’t expect it to turn into a Pnemoix-worthy event.

It was, frankly, the first time Emmrich had taken the lead on the direction of relations between them. He had planned every romantic gesture their messy schedules and frequent travels would allow, sure, but every acceleration where intimacy had been concerned had been entirely on Rook.

But, it felt right, the timing.

She wondered if this was his way of saying he felt the same.

Rook slipped on a pair of gold-rimmed glasses (her vision never had been the best, but she’d only just taken to wearing them more faithfully at Emmrich’s encouragement, and insistence that he thought them, “Positively charming.”)

With a flutter of excitement in her chest Rook spared a careless hope that she might make it all the way downstairs to the Vi’Revas without any of their friends asking enough questions to rattle her nerves anymore than they already squirmed.

——————-

The journey was quick and blessedly uninterrupted. Punctual as ever, Emmrich had already arrived. He turned to greet her as she strode his way, having been surveying the towering Eluvian with an air of curiosity just moments before.

Lean and immaculately dapper as ever, golden rings and bangles over luxurious shades of black and jade, a smile swept his features so genuine that it stole a smile from her own.

“Rook,” he mused warmly, “You look exquisite.”

“Could very well say the same to you, Professor,” Rook teased, hand once again gracing the elbow he lent her.

“Shall we?”

#dragon age #datv #dragon age the veilguard #emmrich volkarin #dragon age veilguard #emmrook #emmrich x rook #dragon age fan fiction

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reccyls · 4 hours ago

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Azel chapter 19 premium story

My translation of Azel's chapter 19 premium story. This is where he speaks about his past to Emma, so please do note the content warnings for child abuse & violence

---

Every beginning comes with a matching end. Everything that comes to pass eventually fades from memory, disappears, and becomes something that remains only in dreams. That day may arrive sooner than we think. Soon enough that there is no time to prepare.

...

Azel: I recommend that you leave Tanzanite before the next full moon, Young Akatsuki.

(Huh...?)

Prince Azel spoke calmly after he took a sip of his Zel-Tea. Akatsuki's gaze steadily met that of the all-knowing, all-seeing God.

Akatsuki: ...Things will take a turn for the worse?

Azel: Yes, and quickly.

(...If even Tanzanite's God says so...)

The moon was about half-full tonight. There was little time left until the full moon.

(The riot from before was still only a small one...) (If the situation really will get worse, then the military could be called in.) (Once the royal family starts cracking down on the protests, that's only going to escalate things.) (I hope things don't come to that.)

Thoughts of the doomsday prophecy, the topic on everyone's lips, ran through my mind. I could barely taste my own cup of Zel-Tea.

Akatsuki: I appreciate the warning.

Azel: I've said this before, no? Emma has served me well. Azel: This advice is thanks for her service. However... Azel: If word got out that God had made such a declaration of misfortune, it would lead to even more unrest among the people. Azel: So let's keep this discussion between just us, shall we?

(...If things really descend into civil war...) (Will Prince Azel be okay?)

...

(...) (......) (I can't sleep at all...)

I gave up on trying to fall asleep and opened my eyes, still curled up on the bed. But the sight that greeted me wasn't the star-dotted ceiling, but Prince Azel's eyes.

(......!?)

Azel: Wha-

He seemed just as surprised as I was, and all but leaped backwards.

Azel: If you were awake, don't just lie there quietly, say something! You nearly gave me a heart attack!

Emma: W-what were you doing?

Azel: You have it all wrong, I wasn't doing anything.

(...Well it really looked like he was staring at me while he thought I was asleep...)

I continued to stare at him. After a few more silent seconds, Prince Azel raised both of his hands as if to say "look, I'm innocent!" and turned away.

Azel: I didn't do anything bad. Azel: I was just... you were disturbing me, so I was moving you closer to the edge of the bed.

(Oh, right. I do always end up near the middle of the bed when I wake up all the time.)

I always tried to sleep on the edge of the bed so I didn't take up too much space. But I usually woke up the next morning in the middle.

Emma: I'm sorr-

(Wait, no. That's weird.) (There's no way that I'd end up shuffling to the middle every night, right? Especially not if Prince Azel keeps moving me back.)

Azel was very deliberately not looking at me.

Emma: ...It's the opposite, isn't it?

Azel: No it's not, why would it be the opposite, that's absurd, why would I move you to the middle, you're mistaken.

Emma: So it is the opposite.

Azel: ......

(This isn't the first time I've felt all warm and ticklish inside.)

Emma: Thank you. For tonight, and all the other times too.

Perhaps giving up on trying to deny it any longer, Prince Azel moved back closer to the bed with a sulky look on his face.

Azel: Don't get the wrong idea-

Emma: You're going to charge me a "Move to the Center of the Bed" fee?

Azel: ...Yes. I'll add it to your debt.

He picked up one of the nearby books and lay on his stomach as he began to read. It was probably his way of trying to end the conversation. I shuffled more to the side to give him more space, but I couldn't stop looking at him. His profile as he read was as handsome as the magnificent statue that stood in the main market square. At a first glance, he was every bit the distant, cold god the statue depicted. But Prince Azel always showed kindness in the times it was needed. He was a money-grubbing scumbag of a god who worked me like a slave... But his awkward compassion still put a smile on my face. --And I could feel my heart start to race.

(I still can't sleep. But now it's for a different reason.)

As I continued to stare, the frown on his face deepened, a wrinkle forming between his brow. He reached out to pinch my cheek.

Azel: Go to sleep already. I can't concentrate because you're staring too loudly.

Emma: Can you talk to me until I fall asleep?

Azel: No.

Emma: I have something I want to ask you. I'm really curious.

Azel: I just said no.

But despite his words, hs fingers stopped turning pages. It showed that he was listening to me.

(See? I know he's a kind person.) (So then why...)

Emma: ...Why don't you love your people?

Azel: What?

Emma: You were the one who told me that before.

(flashback) Azel: To be loved is a nuisance. And God does not love the people either.

Emma: You don't hate people. Emma: You care. You never turn away anyone who comes to see you at your temple, and you always treat people gently with a smile. Emma: To me, it looks like you do love the people of Tanzanite.

Azel: ...I had thought that Rhodolite's Belle was supposed to have good judgment. Azel: You've so grossly misunderstood me that I might actually be sick.

He closed his book and then pinched my cheek again.

Azel: I have always been Tanzanite's God Incarnate ever since I was born. Azel: People looked to me for hope and to hear my prophecies. Azel: They were looking to an infant for guidance.

Emma: Since you were that young?

Azel: Yes. My mother knelt before my crib, and my father was a fanatical believer. Azel: Of course, I have no memories of this time. I wasn't even a year old. Azel: But according to my brothers, I was forced to use talismans to tell people's fortunes. Azel: It wasn't prophecy. It was pure blind luck. A baby was telling fortunes by randomly picking out cards from a set.

Emma: That's absurd.

Azel: The people of Tanzanite don't have your common sense. Azel: They entrusted their lives, their country... everything. They left everything up to an infant.

Prince Azel let go and rested his chin on his hand.

Azel: The older I became, the more was asked of me. Azel: People worship god because they believe that their futures are already determined by those fortunes. Azel: And more importantly, it was so easy for them. They didn't even have to think for themselves, didn't have to make a single decision on their own.

(...I had known that things were sort of like this. But giving up all choices and entrusting everything to god... that's unthinkable to me.) (Making choices comes with responsibility.)

As Belle, my choices had helped to determine Rhodolite's future. If the king I chose brought the country to ruin, then that would be my responsiblity.

(How many more decisions like this has Prince Azel had to make for others?) (And how much blame will fall on his shoulders if any of those go wrong?)

Emma: ...Did you ever hate it?

Azel: Every day. That's why I acted out once. Azel: Well, I say that. But it was both of my brothers' decision. Azel: Enis and my eldest brother must have felt sorry for me, the same way you do now.

Azel: So one day, the three of us ran away from the palace and hid in these ruins. Azel: There were no adults around. No one aside from the three of us. It was the first time they could treat me like their brother. Azel: I never knew that being treated as just another "person" could feel so good. Azel: ...So much so that I made a mistake in judgment. I should have pushed for us to return to the palace before we were discovered. Azel: Our father sent soldiers out to find us when we were discovered to be missing. It didn't take them very long. Azel: And then...

Azel's hands clenched the sheets.

Azel: My father had my brothers' nails ripped out. He whipped them until they bled, and hanged them from the ceiling of a freezing cold cell for three days and three nights.

Emma: ...!

(That's... that's just...) (That wasn't discipline. That's torture.)

Azel: I was just a child. I couldn't do anything but scream and cry, begging my father to stop. But he didn't. Azel: "Everything I do is for your sake," he told me. He was smiling as he hurt my brothers. Azel: ...I haven't been able to stand the sight of blood from that day.

Hearing the pain hidden behind Azel's matter-of-fact tone, I placed my hand over his. I was barely thinking. I just wanted to try to soothe his pain no matter what.

Emma: ...That's horrible.

Azel: Nobody stopped my father. Azel: Because he believed in god, because he loved god, everything he did for god's sake was justified.

Azel uncurled his fists, without moving my hand away.

Azel: Since then, Enis has never been able to speak out against our father. He no longer sees me as his younger brother. Azel: Our eldest brother was the mastermind behind our escape plan. So he was exiled from Tanzanite. Azel: I still call myself the Second Prince out of stubbornness. Azel: My eldest brother still holds the title of First Prince to this day so that the old man will always remember how much I hate him.

(...So that was it.)

(flashback) Azel: It's fine. The old man is in his sanctuary today. Azel: No one is here to punish you for breaking from decorum for a while. Enis: ...All right.

Emma: When you say your father... Emma: You mean the Apostle?

As if in confirmation, Azel gripped my hand tightly.

Azel: You have always felt there was something off about him, haven't you? Azel: It impressed me. Not many can look behind his mask to see the madman beneath.

(The more I hear, the more it sounds like...)

Azel: People worship me as a god, but that is just a convenient illusion for their sakes.

Azel: The true identity of Tanzanite's God Incarnate... Azel: ...is just a pathetic, helpless slave.

All I could do was to hold his hand tightly in return.

Azel: You asked why god does not love his people. Here is your answer. Azel: They all claim to love god... Azel: They believe that just because they hold that feeling called love, they can do whatever they want, that their every action is justified. Azel: He who succumbs to "love" is driven to incurable insanity. Azel: Love is a curse.

(I feel like... I've heard this somewhere before...)

The vaguest memory of a dream washed over me.

Azel: That is why I will never love anyone. Azel: Never insinuate such a thing ever again.

Emma: But... Emma: That "love", isn't truly love.

(Not the kind of love that I know.) (I think this is where that sense of discomfort is coming from.)

Emma: Something that causes you such pain can't be love. Emma: The love that you speak of is just violence masquerading as love.

At my declaration, Azel's eyes seemed to glimmer challengingly in the moonlight.

Azel: So, what is it supposed to be?

(What is love supposed to be...)

It's a question that I've been struggling to answer myself. But if compassion and kindness are just a few of love's faces, then I knew of many examples.

Emma: It's like when you stay up late to talk wth me because I can't sleep.

Azel: ...What?

Emma: And like when you made dinner for me because I was tired. Emma: And when you got a cloth for me to dry my tears because I was crying. Emma: And moving me back to the middle of the bed every night so I don't fall off in my sleep... Emma: I think those are examples of love.

Azel: ...... Azel: So you're trying to insult me?

Emma: How'd you get that idea!?

Azel: What do you mean, how!? What else could it be? Azel: It's like you're saying that I love you.

Emma: -ah.

(Okay those might have been kind of presumptuous examples...) (But those were the first things that came to mind!)

Azel: I'm adding three zeroes to the end of your debt.

Emma: Those were just examples! Examples!

Azel's face was bright red, unmistakeable even in the dim light.

(...Is he that embarrassed...?)

The examples I had thrown out without much thought now seemed to take on a deeper meaning. My thoughts began to turn towards expectation. After an awkward silence, Azel reached out to grab my head and pulled it towards his chest.

Azel: Go to sleep, go to sleep, go to sleep now.

Emma: I can't breathe! I'm not going to sleep, I'm going to pass out!

At my flailing, Azel's grip loosened. But he didn't let go of me entirely, and his arms settled around my waist. He was probably just trying to stop me from looking at his face, but this was causing my own face to heat up.

(This is exactly the kind of thing that's making everyone misunderstand our situation!)

Azel: I'm going to make one thing clear. Azel: Everything I do is for the sake of making money. I have never done a single thing because of you. Azel: The next time you start talking about love or anything of the sort, I'll curse you into your next life.

(.......This is bad.)

Azel's words said one thing. His heartbeat said another. Maybe a god's heart just naturally beat faster than a human's. But regardless... The racing pulse I could feel from his chest was contagious.

(I probably shouldn't point that out, or else he's going to make me pass out for real.)

So although I didn't feel like sleeping, I closed my eyes. I don't know whether he realized it or not, but I could feel his hands gently stroking my back. Perhaps all of this was just god having pity on me because I told him he couldn't sleep.

(...But I feel like I'll be able to find the answer I've been searching for, if I'm with Prince Azel.) (What is true love?)

...

After some time had passed, Azel heard Emma's breaths even out in slumber and he shifted away. Unlike before, there was no indication she was awake. Her breaths dissipated into the desert air.

Azel: ...Good. You're finally asleep. Azel: And now I'm the one who can't sleep.

His complaining was met with only silence. Sighing, he pulled the blanket further up around them. Now wrapped snugly in a warm blanket to guard against the cold night air, Emma shifted in her sleep to curl around the blanket, clutching it tight and moving away from Azel. He frowned at the sight.

Azel: ...I'm definitely warmer than a blanket.

He reached out to her, hesitated, pulled back, and repeated this cycle over and over again for some time. But at last, he finally pulled her back close to him.

Azel: ...Being around you turns me into such a fool. Azel: ... Azel: But no sweet dream lasts forever.

Azel: What happens here will fade away to memory and into dreams, for both you and me. Azel: ...I've suffered so much at the hands of this thing called love. Azel: But at least you will be able to live without such pain. Azel: To be loved is to take the first step into hell.

And then, he pressed a gentle kiss to Emma's forehead, as if in prayer.

#ikemen prince #azel (ikepri)#my translation

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thefandomsfervent · 23 hours ago

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Viktor x Reader Personal Pigments(Part 18) - Naples Yellow

This is a jayvik x reader fic now but it'll still be labeled as a Vik Fic until it's fully implemented. Ft. JayVik fluff from here on out. I'm not a fan of angst and miscomunnication but we may see some of VERY SPARINGLY in the next sets of chapters. maybe not.

Find my imagine that inspired it here. Previous and next chapter will be linked at the bottom.

As much as daily chapters were fun to do, not feasible with my current work schedule. It may move to a couple days between releases now. stay tuned and Thank you for reading <3

╔═*✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧-✦-✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧*═╗

It was no surprise to you that you were the first person in the studio that following morning. You made a note to yourself to ask them what their new development was, if it warranted 4 glasses of wine each. Looking at the bottle you realize that 8 glasses barely made a dent in it. An auspicious gift from the councilor. The wine sat re-corked on a table. The two gilded glasses sat next to each other by the bottle. A thin film of dried wine coating the bottom of both glasses. It caught the morning light and casted a plum colored haze on the notes and papers scattered more haphazardly than normal.

There wasn't much that you had planned for today, just getting the official underpainting done now that a final composition had been selected. So that meant you would have time to get the two men breakfast, or a lunch if they took their time getting here today. Some teas that would be easy to reheat and simple food. Maybe fruit and bread? You're thinking back to that first time you brought them pastries and how much has changed. And what hasn't. They talk and joke with you now including you in their routine. They care for each other so immensely, looking out for one another. You catch yourself thinking about how Jayce offered that napkin to Viktor when the Chantilly cream had tipped his nose. And how since then you’ve seen them just wipe it straight off each other sharing weighted stares after.

Last night, when you had gone to your own room you grappled with emotions you couldn't quite grasp. Feelings that are making themselves present now, even if you couldn't identify them. Something feels heavy in your chest, and sinking feeling in your gut. A buzzing in your face. What they had, whatever it was, was a beautiful type on intimacy. It wasn't jealousy but something that had long since passed the point of curiosity. When Jayce had drunkenly tried to fumble with Viktors tie, toothy grin and red-faced. When Viktor slapped his hands away and undid Jayce’s own tie with ease. When you could see Jayce’s room and imagine Viktor’s. It just left you feeling empty. Lonely. It wasn't bitter. It just was. A humble burning you couldn't sate. It felt wrong to try and label your feelings at this point. You were certain that whatever you did ascribe to your emotions would just bring up new ones you didn't have time for. At least not to process when you see them everyday. Wanted to see them everyday

You'd been mindlessly wandering around the lab deep in your own thoughts. Had picked up an empty glass and turned it in your hand, watching how the light played with the gold and purple stain. There are fingerprints, swirls and whorls of proof that someone was here. You line your hand up with the marks, feeling the weight of the glass as it settles in your hand. It's cold on your gradually heating skin "Shameless behavior" rattles through your thoughts as you set the glass back down. There's a small sheet of paper nearby with nothing on it. Quickly, you scrawl and a note on it congratulating their development and that if they were back before you there would be food and drink coming with you. Your footsteps toward the door echo into the space. Your heartbeat is loud in your own ears. Fruit, bread, tea, and then work. Fruit, bread, tea, and then work.

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Viktor's eyes are dry when he blinks into the world. Throat hoarse. His limbs feel heavy, like they were weighted down and blended with his sheets. The fabric that he usually slept without didn't feel scratchy, didn't feel too heavy. When was the last time he had slept so peacefully? For so long? He was clean, warm, content, well rested. There was the soreness in his right leg, one that throbbed and reverberated up his hip, his spine. But it didn't echo through his whole being like it usually did. Peaceful. It tempts him to sleep longer, to let the pillowcase kissing his cheek lull him back to the dreamless void. It almost does before his bleary vision focuses on the clock by the door. Then that tugging in his chest makes him move like it does noon. "There is work to be done!" It's some childlike wonderment still in his core. Still wanting to do good and be praised for it. And if he got up now he'd be able to get so much done.

It balms the headache forming, nothing that some water couldn't handle. The covers pool at his waist and he swings his legs over the side of the bed. An area rug catching his feet before the cold floor does, a gift from Jayce after he had mentioned the floor always sent a shock up his right leg. As sleep falls off his shoulders Viktor thinks about where he'd start today in the lab. He walks to the bathroom, combing through his hair. Him and Jayce had agreed that travel could work and when they had proposed it to the council they got support for the idea. Not enough to do nearly anything they really needed, but enough to prove they deserved it. Jayce had... Jayce. Him and Jayce. And You. The shower oh... oh no. Last night flashes through his mind. And it's more than just guilt that stirs when he's brushing his teeth. He coughs on the foamy paste and his face is turning red. Out of frustration? Lack of air? Embarrassment?

Him and Jayce had kissed. A lot. He had undressed the man that was like starlight personified and put him to bed and did not follow. Had to be the person to make sure hands stayed where they were supposed to. Like he didn't come back to his shower, hadn't spent himself at the thought of both of you saying his name. He's spitting out toothpaste into the running sink water. Washing his face. Ignoring that burning shame at the back of his neck. He was an adult. Jayce and you were adults. There was no need for frivolous embarrassment.

He would surely be able to face the both of you with no issues today. Jayce was probably in his own panic spiral if he was up yet. Viktor spends the next few minutes getting dressed, straightening himself out and making his way down the hall to check on his... his?

"I suppose he still is my partner" the thought leaves a ghost of a smile in his lips as he approaches Jayce's door. “Realistically nothing has changed. Just the physicality of our relationship. We are able to pursue others as we have been. Now we can just pursue each other more actively.” He gently raps his knuckles on the door. A muffled curse and some thumping sound follows, silence, and then a cleared throat before a few steps. The door opens and there is Jayce.

His hair tousled, he was in his Academy uniform. “Viktor! Good morning. It… it is morning right?” That same bright smile pulling those uneven lips up to golden cheeks. A nervous twinge in his voice. Viktor could see why you enjoyed art, being able to pull these visuals up at a moment’s notice.

“Good morning. Jayce.” It’s hard to hide his own smile, his own nervousness. He watches as Jayce’s shoulders slowly drop with a deep breath, that grin evening out. “How are you feeling?” He makes room for Jayce to step into the hallway, watching carefully as his partner double checks his wrists and pockets.

“Been better, been worse. Last night…” That twinge is back. His hazel eyes looked over Viktor’s face for any sign of annoyance or regret. He doesn’t find any. A warm hand graces Viktor’s lower back as they walk towards the lab. “Last night. I should have had less, to really enjoy the moment. I’m sorry.” When Viktor looks at Jayce, he feels that hand twitch when their eyes connect. The fingers move when Viktor places his own hand around Jayce’s waist.

“We were celebrating our development.” The blush dusting Jayce’s ears are impossible to miss. “I had the wine as well. Although I had hoped to continue our celebration.” Impossible to ignore as it intensifies. “What all do you remember?” Impossible to not tease him. Jayce’s eyes widen and his hand falters.

“Did we?” They’ve reached the door to the lab. The two of them separate at their arrival, Jayce pulling the door open. You weren’t there and he continues to speak as they enter. “Did we??” He’s racking his brain. No way he and Viktor had sex right? His memory is spacey. That damned wine. You had helped him get to his room, he can remember the smell of safflower oil and your shampoo. He can remember Viktor’s cold lithe hands undoing his tie, pushing him back onto the bed, a knee between his legs… oh gods what if they did? And he didn’t remember. “Vik, I-”

“No, we did not. And we were not going to last night either. I’d much prefer both of us with our full sensibilities.” Viktor would have loved to keep watching Jayce’s face contort with remembrance, those pretty lips pursing in thought. The anxiety radiating off him at the idea of missing out was cute but not enough to let him suffer. He’s setting his cane down by their tables and looking over the papers. “We’re going to have to get these in order again.” Your handwriting catches his eye and picks up the paper, before he can read it he feels Jayce step behind him. Nuzzling into his neck, it is warm. It is nice. And not appropriate for a lab. Yet those large hands on his waist make it hard to pull away.

“So we’re right back to work?” Jayce’s voice tickles his neck, reverberating through his skin.

“In the lab? Yes.” He can feel himself wanting to give in already, but he doesn’t. Pulling away from that comforting hold to make Jayce look at the note you left. “Seems that we have a development to share. Any ideas?”

Jayce pulls the paper from Viktor’s hand, a whisper of friction as it slides through his fingers. He reads it and quirks a brow with a smile.

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--.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙-Part 17-.-Next Part will be linked here.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .--

------------‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙· Master Fic List *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊--------------

#Jayce is clingy and I love it and no one can tell me otherwise #And i think that jayvik is so touchstarved there is no way they aren't #and i feel like i'll write reader as the same and y'all will hopefully eat it up when the time comes #arcane #fanfic #fanfiction #viktor arcane #viktor league of legends #x reader #viktor lol #jayvik #jayvikmel #jayce talis #jayvikmel x reader #jayvik x reader

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lady-pug · 3 days ago

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The Ballad of Green Snakes and Honey Badgers

Chapter I - Wherever We Go, A Hundred Eyes Follow

Summary: Aemond seeks you out so you can go on your first study "date" together, but you have yet to speak to Oscar about what happened the previous night and the agreement you made. But as things go better than expected, you might just end up attracting more attention than you'd prefer

Pairing: Slytherin!Aemond Targaryen x Hufflepuff!Tully!Reader

Word count: 3,4k

Warnings: none

Notes: Oof, okay here we are, finally! I wanted to get this done sooner but got caught up in a lot of stuff and ended up writing quite slowly, BUT I did manage to get it out before the year ended so that is that.

I’m quite excited for this story, and have quite a bunch of ideas for where I’m going with this. The only thing I think is worth adding in terms of additional context for this chapter is that I decided to keep the fact that the Targaryens are dragonlords and can ride dragons. But because of that I cannot add any dragons to the Tournament Tasks, as it would be seen as unfair and possibly count as an advantage to Aemond.

Anyway, as always, if you spot any mistakes, please feel free to warn me and I’ll correct it right away, and feedback is always welcome and appreciated. Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it, happy holidays, and I’ll see you all next year! Enjoy!

Next chapter | Previous chapter | Masterlist | Read on AO3

You were fucked. There was no sugarcoating it. You were absolutely fucked.

After Aemond had left the library, leaving you behind to pick your jaw off the floor, you headed straight to the Hufflepuff common room. You were determined to tell Oscar everything that had happened down to a T, but you took one look at him, staring at you with that sweet and hopeful gaze and immediately chickened out, opting to quickly retreat to the girls dorm where he couldn’t reach you.

And now as you headed for breakfast you knew you should have told him. You had agreed to breakfast with Aemond, which meant he would come find you and Oscar would find out you had agreed to Aemond’s stupid plan when you had promised him you wouldn’t. Perhaps it would be easier to search for Aemond directly at the Slytherin table, that way you could stave off the inevitable conversation you would need to have with your brother.

But he was nowhere to be found. Not at the Slytherin table, nor those of the other houses. Not even near the professor’s table where he would sometimes walk up to in order to strike up conversation with one professor or another (what they talked about was beyond you, no matter how curious it made you). He was absolutely nowhere to be seen, throwing a wrench in your plans to intercept him before he could find you.

Resigned, you walked slowly to the Gryffindor table where Davos and your brothers were already seated. Considering that both Cregan and Alysanne were also seated at their house’s table, quite a few seats down from the three boys, you suspected Kermit and Davos had chosen to seat there for your sake, to simultaneously keep the couple out of your sight and avoid a situation like the night before but also not to force you to stay within close proximity of them. You were thankful really, while Cregan was not the first thing on your mind at the moment it still stung to see them being happy together.

“Hey!” Kermit greeted you, his mouth full of sausage “How are you on this fine morning?”

You knew he was trying to divert your attention from some people, and while it wasn’t entirely working, you were grateful for his attempt, for him. For all of them.

“Eh,” you shrugged trying to appear nonchalant while taking a seat across from him and Kermit “could be better.”

Oscar waited until you were comfortable next to him and had already filled up your plate before leaning ever closer to you.

“So, how was it?” he spoke, his voice low.

“How was what?”

Oscar scoffed, a deadpan stare thrown your way.

“You know, the whole thing with Targaryen?”

Your heart stuttered in your chest, fear gripping at it as you pondered your answer. Oscar was going to be so disappointed when he found out. God, you didn’t want to lose the respect of one of the few people who you had left. You sighed, deciding it was better to tell him now than let him figure it out on his own later.

“Uhm, actually-” you started, but it seemed the universe had other plans.

“Lads,” Aemond’s voice cut you off, your name rolling smoothly off his tongue before pointing to the spot on the bench next to you “is this seat taken?”

He didn’t even wait for an answer, already sliding in next to you way closer than necessary as the boys stared at him flabbergasted, their jaws dropping. Oscar was the only one who got over his surprise quickly, his eyes narrowing in your direction in a way you could practically see the cogs turning in his mind.

“Targaryen.” Kermit greeted coldly “You seem a bit lost, the snakes’ table is over there.”

“Tully,” Aemond answered in kind, although his tone carried less venom in comparison “I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

“And what could you possibly want here?” Davos chimed in.

Through their whole exchange you couldn’t properly focus, the feeling of Aemond sitting way too close to you pulling your attention away from the conversation at hand. His leg was flush with yours on the bench, the entire length of his thigh pressed against yours and his shoulder bumping into your own pulling your whole focus towards him.

“We are heading to Professor Orwyle’s class then we are going to study together.” your attention was pulled back into focus as Aemond said your name.

“You two? Study together?” Oscar was still more skeptical than Kermit and Davos.

“Yes,” the Slytheirn boy shrugged, nonchalantly, and for a moment you feared he was going to reveal your whole ruse but he surprised you even further “I promised to help her with her History of Magic studies and, in turn, she’ll help me brainstorm ideas for the first task of the Tournament.”

Oscar seemed unconvinced but let it slide in favor of eating his breakfast in peace, but one glare from him in your direction let you know that you had a lot of explaining to do later on. Your twin and your cousin seemed to get distracted by the mention of the Triwizard Tournament, starting to animatedly argue about past editions (or, in Kermit’s case, sulk, as he had applied for the Tournament and eventually lost the role of Hogwarts’ champion to Aemond, something he was still somewhat resentful about).

You tried going back to your breakfast, hell bent on not attracting any more attention back to yourself and your current incredibly awkward situation, but that quickly went out the window when Aemond leaned even closer to you, his breath fanning your ear.

“It seems Stark and his new girl are staring.” he whispered, and you could tell from his voice alone that his lips were turned up in a smirk.

And true to his word, both Cregan and Alysanne were staring at your little group, more specifically you and Aemond. Alysanne seemed a little weirded out by the whole exchange, but ultimately shrugged, going back to her cuppa. Cregan on the other hand looked positively bothered by the sight, his eyes narrowing even further as Aemond cheekily bumped his shoulder against yours, as if he had simply whispered a funny joke to you.

As much as you loathed to admit, and even though it went completely against what you had told Aemond last night, a bittersweet satisfaction started growing in your chest at the reaction you elicited from your ex-boyfriend. While you didn’t wish to make him jealous, you truly wanted nothing to do with the guy anymore, you didn’t mind shoving in his face that you had already moved on from him, that his actions didn’t bother you at all (even though in reality they did).

“I would say our little… plan is already working, don’t you agree?” Aemond continued whispering, his warm breath tickling your ear.

You hummed in agreement, finishing the rest of your breakfast in silence. You’d occasionally see Oscar glancing at you quizzically from the corner of your eye but he didn’t say anything else. You felt awful hiding things from him, but what could you do? Come clean to your brothers and cousin and just hope the rest of the Gryffindor table simply didn’t hear a thing? No, the less people knew your little stunt with Aemond was a ruse the better. You’d tell him later that night.

After you were both done eating, Aemond pulled you up and out of the Great Hall, regardless if your brother Kermit, who was usually your partner for Potions class, wasn’t finished yet.

“I’m sure he can partner up with Bracken for today’s class, can’t you Tully?” he asked, knowing full well your brother truly disliked Aeron on behalf of Davos.

You felt eyes on you all the way down to the dungeons; people from every house were staring at the two of you, the way Aemond’s palm rested on you just shy of the small of your back, pushing, no, guiding you forward. If this was an indicative of a pattern that would remain present the rest of your time together, you just knew it was going to be a long day.

It was, indeed, a long day.

During Professor Orwyle’s class the hairs on the back of your neck refused to go back to their usual position, a prickling sensation on the back of your mind telling you everyone was staring at you. And it wasn’t just your self-consciousness making things up in your head: more than once you caught another student glancing your way, quickly averting their gaze once they realized they’d been caught. The only one who was brave enough to keep on staring even after being noticed was Maris Baratheon, and by the glint in her eye you simply knew it couldn’t mean anything good.

You couldn’t shake the uneasiness that being in the spotlight brought you. And Aemond? He didn’t seem to give a flying fuck.

“Stop fidgeting,” he said, completely unbothered as he led you through the hallways towards the library. The walk had been made even longer than usual for he had to take a detour to grab something from the Slytherin common room, giving other students ample opportunity to continue their scrutiny.

“Everyone is looking at us.” you spoke, voice lowered to try not to attract more attention to yourself.

“No, they aren’t.” he said, walking between rows of bookshelves and collecting an assortment of different books.

“Yes, they are!” you said in an exasperated whisper, trying to keep your voice down in order to not attract any attention from Professor Strong, the librarian (though rumor has it his true ambition was taking over the Defense Against the Dark Arts class over his brother).

“Then just don’t mind them.” he shrugged, turning around towards you and placing the ever growing pile of books on your arms with a sigh “Look, let them stare. The more people see us together, the more believable it becomes. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

No, that’s what you wanted! you thought, but given your feelings towards Cregan’s reaction this morning you knew he was right.

“Now stop worrying and go find us a table, I’ll be there in a second.” he was off before you could question him further, leaving you to carry the books to the nearest table.

Aemond returned quickly enough, carrying yet another book with him. This one though was unlike any you had ever seen before, its hardcover weathered, either from old age or from excessive use you couldn’t tell.

“What is that?” you nodded towards his hands.

He placed the tome on the table as he sat down in front of you, staring at you quizzically.

“A book?”

“I’m not stupid, dragonbrain, I know it’s a book!” you snapped at him, offended “I just meant which book.”

He hummed, amused at your snippiness, and pushed the book towards you.

‘Secrets Of The Dark Arts And How To Spot Them, by Archmaester Gyldayn.’ the cover read, and something dawned on you.

“This is from the Restricted Section.” you stated, to which he hummed in agreement, not bothering with a verbal response “How did you even get this?”

Aemond stared at you then, really stared at you, his one good eye settling on your face with such an intensity you had to look away. Something in the way he looked at you intimidated you now, whereas in the past, before, you felt safe under his gaze. Seen.

“I asked Mister Strong to open the Restricted Section for me.” he said casually, breaking his intense stare to flip over the pages of one of the other books he had selected.

“And he did? Just like that?”

His lips curled in the tiniest of smirks, but something about it felt… wrong. Bitter almost.

“The perks of dating his much younger step-sister I guess.”

Ah.

That made sense. You always suspected Alys Rivers was related to Professors Harwin and Larys Strong, but could never make the connection.

“Okay,” he stopped flipping the book, seemingly having found the page he was looking for. You weren’t going to probe any further, but if you had any intentions to, this was his way of signaling the previous conversation was over “We’ll start from the beginning.”

Glancing at the open book he turned towards you, you caught a glimpse of a familiar painting, three white-haired siblings atop their dragons with their wands raised.

“The Conquest?” you questioned, pulling the book from his hands “That’s First Year material.”

“I know, but it’ll be easier to catch up on the more recent content if you have a stronger base.” he explained, and although all he was saying made sense, it still vexed you somewhat.

“But I already know all of this!” you whined, immediately regretting it, for it made you feel childish. Once upon a time you had been sure he wouldn’t judge you for such a thing, but now? You barely knew him anymore.

“I know for a fact you doze off in almost all of Professor Mello’s classes.” he replied, smugly.

Something weird, a feeling you couldn’t quite place, stirred in your chest at the thought of him noticing you in class, but you quickly brushed it off.

“I didn’t pick this up from Mello’s class.” you countered, and his face fell for a moment.

Your summers leading up to your First Year were more often than not spent in the Targaryen’s household. At the time you were quite close with two of the white-haired siblings, Aegon considering himself too old for your childish antics and Daeron too young to join in yet. At the time you’d even go as far as to call Aemond your best friend, before Helaena inevitably took the title after… everything. Back then, he’d spend his days showing you paintings and illustrations of his ancestors, of Aegon I and his sister-wifes arriving from Old Valyria and founding Westeros as it was known today. Although the Targaryen family lost a lot of their former glory (even though they remained quite influential still), it was clear Aemond was proud of his roots, a glint in his eye whenever he mentioned most people from his bloodline.

He grew silent, as he couldn’t deny what you were saying. You wondered if you were wrong to bring this up, for you felt incredibly unprepared to open this specific can of worms right now, but it seemed the feeling was mutual, as he grabbed the book from your hands and propped it up on the table, the pages facing him so you wouldn’t peek.

“Alright then. If you say you already know all of this,” he smirked once more, and you started rethinking your choices leading up to this moment “how about a pop quiz?”

It wasn’t as bad as you were expecting. You managed to get through the whole of The Conquest without fumbling, all the way to when Aegon defeated the dark wizard Harren the Black in his castle, Harrenhal (which some believe was demolished, and Hogwarts was built on top of its ruins). After that point, though, the details started getting a little confusing, your mind jumbling dates and locations into an incomprehensible mess inside your head. Aemond then promised to help you study from then on out, little by little, three times a week.

“We have till the end of the year to turn you into a History of Magic expert,” he had said.

“Till Christmas, you mean.” you pointed out, remembering your previous agreement, to which he shrugged, humming a ‘whatever you say’ under his breath.

You started collecting your things, but paused when he didn’t follow suit, only picking up another book from the pile. Herbology.

“That’s certainly… an interesting selection.” you commented, only now noticing the different subjects all the books covered.

“I have some research to do.” he said, not taking his eyes off the page.

Something he had said earlier came to the front of your mind.

“She’ll help me brainstorm ideas for the first task of the tournament.”

“Is it about the first task?” you questioned, genuinely curious.

He hummed in agreement.

“Do you have any idea what it will be about?”

He shook his head with a sigh, finally looking up at you.

“I do have a hunch, but it’s fickle. A hypothesis really.”

“Do you need any help ‘brainstorming ideas’?” you quoted him.

He chuckled, amused.

“Next time perhaps. You did well today, you deserve your rest.” your cheeks felt warm under the praise, and you had to look away from him for a moment “But I will be taking you up on that offer. If I remember correctly, you used to be quite good at solving puzzles.”

It was strange, really, how much he still knew about you even after so long without speaking to one another. You’d have to get used to it again.

After saying your goodbyes you headed back to the Hufflepuff common room, a light feeling in your chest. The ‘study date’ had gone well, not at all as bad as you had predicted it would be, unashamed stares from other students aside. But then a cold, bitter guilt replaced that nice feeling, damping your mood slightly.

You had to tell Oscar. He deserved to know.

Feeling determined, then, you entered the common room, resolute in looking for your brother. But, (un)fortunately, you didn’t have to look very far, for you found him sitting in one of the couches facing the entrance of the common room, arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face.

“How was your study date with Aemond Targareyn?” he questioned, his voice hard.

Panicking, you gripped his upper arm, not minding his yelps of pain as you pulled him to a distant corner, away from the other students.

“It wasn’t a date.” you hissed.

“No?” his voice held a hint of sarcasm “Because Kermit said you two were awfully close in class-”

“It wasn’t a real study date.” you interrupted him, keeping your voice down and mentioning for him to do the same.

“How so?” he still seemed mad, but at least now he was whispering as well “You just pretended to study?”

“No, the studying part was real.” you averted your eyes from him, scratching the back of your neck in embarrassment “It was the date part that was fake.”

“Again, how so?”

Time to come clean.

“Yesterday Aemond asked me to…” it sounded stupid now that you said it outloud “pretend we’re going out together. And it will culminate in me being his date to the Yule Ball.”

“What?!” he squeaked, and you shushed him, worried about people overhearing your conversation “So he wants you to be his pretend girlfriend?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“And you agreed?!”

“I panicked, alright?!” you already felt stupid enough about your decisions without him scolding you like a child.

“What does he even get out of this?” he asked, exasperated “And what about Alys Rivers?”

“His admirers backing off, I think. And apparently they broke up over summer.” his jaw dropped “I know, surprised me too.”

His face softened a fraction, finally getting over the shock.

“And what’s in it for you?” his tone dripped concern, and you felt your heart clenching with love for your younger brother.

“I-I’m not sure, exactly. To show Cregan I’m no longer hung up on him? To prove to people I’m not pathetic?”

“You are not pathetic.”

“Sometimes feels like I am.” you shrinked into yourself a bit “You know how much it hurt.”

Oh, he knew. He was the one who found you after you had read Cregan’s letter, curled into a ball on your bed, clutching the roll of parchment to your chest as tears steadily ran down your cheeks.

“I know.” he placed a gentle hand on your arm “But do you think this is a good idea? This is Aemond Targaryen we’re talking about.”

You smiled at his worried face, ruffling his hair.

“I can look after myself, you know.” you grinned at the grimace that covered his face as he tried to fix the mess that you had made of his locks “It wasn’t all that bad today. And besides, it’s only until Christmas.”

He still seemed hesitant, but slowly nodded.

“Just promise me you’ll be careful with him.”

Your grin softened, pulling him in for a comforting hug.

“I promise.”

He squeezed you back and you knew everything would turn out okay in the end. You just had to endure it until Christmas.

Right?

Tag List:

@bitchassgoose

@voguiing

@dibutw

@fruityvampslayer

@bey0nd-1he-stars

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x f!reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen fic #slytherin!aemond targaryen x hufflepuff!reader #aemond targaryen x tully!reader #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #hogwarts au

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starzoutlet · 1 day ago

Text

Beyond the game

.1 Winner takes it all..or maybe not ??

Series master

The monitor light shines on your face, your heart beating in your chest. The roaring crowd and the timer that ticks down.

3... 2... 1!

“Teams, the round has ended. Make your way to the back as the game’s winner is decided.”

You walk offstage and sit down, letting out the breath that you didn’t realize you were holding. Lumine sits next to you, putting her arm around you. You sigh and look to your right, catching sight of Scaramouche.

You stare in admiration at his calm demeanor. He stares back, his brows furrowing.

“Stop looking at me, you nobody,” Scaramouche whisper-yells at you.

“No one’s looking at you, dingbat,” you snap back, turning away from him.

“ALL PLAYERS RETURN TO THE STAGE.”

You jump and quickly walk back toward the loud crowd. The announcer hands you a microphone to give a speech before the results are released.

“Thank you all for supporting me throughout this journey, and thank you to my team for getting me to the finals.” You swallow and smile at the crowd.

Ei walks onto the stage beside her assistant, Yae Miko.

“All of our players worked their hardest to get here and all equally played their part. This is why we’ve decided this year’s Tournament finale... ends in a tie. Further announcements will be coming.”

Ei walks offstage. You stare, dumbfounded, at your teammates.

Masterlist

Notes - First chapter posted woooo. Follow me for updates and don’t for get to send in ask about btg questions, head cannons, songs for the playlist etc ! I need motivation 😭😭. Thank you so much 🫶🏽🫶🏽 ( got it done at 3 am 😰😴)

Ei owns both of the companies you and scaramouche work for. So we just made the companies merge together.

This was you first time ever competing at a tournament.

Scaramouche only sees you as a competitor as of right now

Taglist 📩

#genshin impact #scara smau #scaramouche smau #genshin scara #scara x reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #BTG stuff #x reader #starz space ~ writes

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everlastingdreams · 2 days ago

Text

The Weeping Monk x Fem!Reader : Forged Of Fire Chapter 31

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Story Summary: Raised under the tiranny of your own family, and forced to steal to earn your keep, you struggle to survive. Born from a Fey mother, and a Manblood father who wanted only sons, you are forced to hide your Fey side. When you are ordered to steal from Father Carden by your half-brother, Cassian, your life spirals out of control and you find yourself at the mercy of the Weeping Monk. The life you knew changes drastically when Cassian betrays you in the cruelest of ways. A trade is made, a promise is broken, and a debt must be paid.

Chapter Title: The Feyguard

Notes:

Warnings: Angst. Hurt. Trauma bonding. Intrafamily violence. Depression. Self-harm. Suicidal thoughts. Violence. Torture. Gore. Pining. Trauma. Self-Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc. Lima/Stockholm syndrom-ish. Childhood trauma.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forced Marriage. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn. Found Familly-ish. Comfort. Fluff. !SMUT and SPICE!

Word count of this fic: +250K

Chapter: 31/47

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

When morning came you had barely slept. Percival had kept questioning you on what he had seen between you and Lancelot, and the worst part was that you barely had any answers. What was it? It was a kiss. Why? You couldn’t provide an answer other than telling him that you and Lancelot had wanted to do that. When the boy finally got bored of the dull answers, he fell asleep. Whilst you were left awake and having to deal with your worries and thoughts in silence. ‘Why?’ It was indeed a good question the boy had sought an answer for, you did so too. Why had he kissed you? You had sensed the desire in him back when he was with the paladins, but he had always held back from crossing that line. One thing was for certain, the attraction was mutual and you had no regrets about kissing him back. There had not been a chance to speak to him alone since dawn, Gawain insisted to visit the village’s healer just at dawn before the village would become more crowded later in the day.

The healer indeed recognized Gawain and welcomed him as if they were old friends. Of course the knight had to quietly explain the presence of the former Weeping Monk, it was perhaps fortunate that the healer was Manblood. The four of you were let into the healer’s house. Gawain was the first who let the healer inspect the injuries he had obtained by the paladins, and by the sellswords at Morrowstead. After only a few minutes Gawain walked out of the other room and quietly mentioned how Nimue’s healing had healed him so well that only scars were left, and the bruises he had obtained from the sellswords were not bad enough to use salve on them.

“Who is next?” The healer looked between you, Lancelot and Percival.

“Percival?” you looked at the boy, he shook his head.

Lancelot put a hand on Percival’s shoulder and steered him into the room to be inspected, aware that the boy sometimes lost that brave side of him in moments such as these.

Gawain took the moment of privacy to ask you a burning question, “You and the Ash Man?”

Right away you knew what he was trying to learn about. “It hasn’t happened before.”

“Will it again?” he was forward about it.

Even to you, that was a mystery. “I would not be against it.”

Gawain sounded somewhat worried, “You are aware that he lived as a monk? Such matters are not what they usually allow.”

Did he think you started this? “He kissed me, Gawain. I did not initiate.”

“Not surprising.” he stated.

“How so?” you asked.

Again the knight was not shy to voice his opinion. “I have seen how he observes you much like a meal after a weeks long fast. He lets his eyes linger on you like a shadow.”

That was not the sort of thing you expected to hear, he was far more open and forward about a lot of things. The door opened again and Lancelot held it open for Percival to walk out, it looked like the boy had been given a small sweet to eat and he was very happy with that.

“All is well.” Lancelot informed you and Gawain. “He is of good health and strong.” He gave a nod your way, “Your turn?”

A bit nervous, you walked past him and into the room with the healer. The man was friendly enough and seemed to sense your uncertainty.

“Take a seat.” The healer patted his hand on a wooden bench that was covered with brown leather. “I don’t bite.”

It was obvious that the healer was used to people being somewhat nervous to see him, he couldn’t have been much older than Gawain, younger even perhaps. The last thing you expected was Lancelot closing the door and staying in the room as well.

You looked back at Lancelot. “What is it?”

His answer was vague on purpose, “I shall remain here, to ensure all is well.”

The true answer was already clear to you, he feared that the healer would behave improper towards you. “It is alright. He’s a healer. You have visited healers too haven’t you? You must have bared your torso for them to help.”

He shook his head a bit, refusing to trust a healer that he had only just met. “It is not the same.”

You stayed calm, knowing that this was just him being concerned over your safety. “How is it different?”

While awaiting his answer, you took off your jacket and draped it over a chair. Then began taking off the bodice. For you a visit to a healer was nothing new, the healer of Ravenwick had seen you so many times behind Aldith and Cassian’s back. And if the Green Knight trusted this healer, you saw no reason not to.

He fell over his words, “You’re… you have…”

“Yes?” You knew what he wanted to say, and you were all too curious to see if he could bring himself to say it out loud. It would mean a step forward in breaking out of his timid shell. When you didn’t stop undoing the bodice he approached and half-circled you, his signal for the healer to step back without even having to say a word to the poor man.

“Lancelot.” your arms fell at your sides, a hint of frustration in your tone.

He was not comfortable to let you be in a room alone, vulnerable, with the healer. “It is not the same.”

You brought your voice down to a whisper. “You’re right, it is not. But I know that if I need you, you will be right outside that door for me. I wish for the healer to see to my health and he won’t be able to do that properly if he feels afraid to even look at me with you present. Please, Lancelot, wait outside for me.”

He rolled his jaw, then bowed his head in surrender. “I will.”

It still took two long seconds before he went to move past you and to the door, you quickly captured his arm halting him. “Thank you.”

He tilted his head respectfully and left the room.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

The healer had been kind and careful, he did question where you obtained all those small scars littered across your back. Some were caused by steel, some by wood, but all were the result of Aldith’s and Cassian’s rage. The healer had cleaned the wound on your arm, applied a soothing salve that cooled the burning sensation down and then put fresh bandages on it. The largest bruises on your back had finally healed, there were some fresh smaller ones from Morrowstead. Most of the damage was done to your soul and no healer could reach such injuries. You were given more of the same kind of salve, that you had gotten and used in the inn, to take along in your satchel and thanked the healer for it.

The last one to see the healer was Lancelot… and he was in that room for quite some time. You shared looks with Gawain, he was getting as impatient as you were.

After almost an hour seemed to have passed, you went to the door and knocked. “Is everything alright in there?”

The healer opened the door just a little, “I am almost done.”

‘Almost’? When he tried to close the door again, you blocked it with your hand. “What is taking so long?”

Gawain called out to you, mistaking your concern for Lancelot’s health for impatience. You ignored the knight.

Lancelot’s voice came from behind the healer. “Let her in.”

The healer sighed and opened the door just enough for you to pass through, he closed the door right away again. Your heart sank at the sight of Lancelot sitting on that bench. So many bruises, so many small fresh cuts on his torso and arms. The healer returned to his side to finish suturing a larger cut on his arm shut again. Lancelot did not even wince, as if he had gotten used to the pain they brought and that thought was heart wrenching.

“When did you…” you swallowed the lump in your throat.

He knew what you were trying to ask. “Some from when I made my way through the castle, some from Aldith.”

You pressed your eyes shut, disappointed that you hadn’t noticed that he had been wounded. You had not noticed any scent of blood the night he came to save you, the plant’s sap had sedated your abilities. And perhaps he had used the salve and that had camouflaged the scent. “I could have helped you… Why didn’t you say? … I don’t understand.”

“These-” he looked down at a cut just on his collarbone, “Are nothing compared to what I have already endured.”

How could he make it sound like it was normal? Had he so little concern over his own health?

You wouldn’t stand for it. “It is not fair of you to hide your suffering while you demand I share mine with you.”

He heard the change in your tone. “Y/n-”

You took a step closer, stopping right in front of him. “You may not care about your health, but I do. So do not try and make it sound like it isn’t important, it is to me. I am here for you, just as you are here for me! I will not have you ignore your injuries and let you risk dying from infections! If you do not wish to care about your health, I will! Do you understand?!”

Lancelot stared up into your eyes, like the sea facing the fury of the sun. His eyes had widened, and for a moment he did not look like the fearsome warrior that he was.

“Listen to the lady.” The healer picked your side in this. “I had to open this wound after you haphazardly sutured it. I believe you can do better than this.”

By the way Lancelot was still looking at you, you wondered if he even heard the healer speak.

Your determined gaze never faltered. “Do you understand, Lancelot?”

His mouth opened a few seconds before he finally spoke, “Yes.”

“Good.” you said. “Then I will wait outside for you.”

As you turned to walk away, he caught your wrist and stopped you. When looking back at him, you could spot a difference in his eyes, even the way he held your wrist was unexpectedly firm. It was as if it had been a reaction not even he had expected of himself, slowly he let go of your wrist. The healer was looking on curiously.

“He’s not as frightening as he wants people to believe.” You smiled at the healer.

Lancelot rolled his eyes a little, scoffing quietly, still the corner if his mouth had curved into a smile. You headed out the door so the healer could continue his necessary work. For those taught to serve and protect others it was often easy to forget their own needs, and you would make certain to remind him to listen to those basic needs more often.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

It was near noon when together you rode out of the village, from what you had heard from the short conversation between Lancelot and Gawain they both knew the way to Gramaire from there. Percival rode with Gawain now, allowing Goliath some relief from carrying two people. Gramaire was not far anymore, and the closer you got to the destination the more nervous Lancelot got.

Gawain took note of the Ash Man’s quiet state now. “You are being very quiet. Did you leave your tongue where it should not be again?”

The jest was meant to pull Lancelot back out of his darkening thoughts. You understood the ambiguous jest immediately and felt your face start to burn. Lancelot needed a few seconds to understand and than his eyes widened. Percival did not seem to understand the jest, and didn’t seem to care either.

This Fey knight… he could see how Gawain held back a grin. He could not look your way now.

Even Percival had noticed how quiet Lancelot had gotten and offered some encouragement. “Don’t worry. When we get there, I’ll tell them what you did. How you fought the Trinity Guard and killed that ugly paladin that wanted to cut out my tongue.”

Lancelot looked straight ahead and breathed out deeply.

Gawain looked over at him, sending a sympathetic look his way. “You’re not alone in this, Brother.”

“It feels as if I am riding to the gates of hell.” Lancelot said quietly.

“Maybe. But not alone.” you chimed in.

He said it to all, “When we arrive and they threaten to kill me, do not risk your life for me.”

Gawain shook his head. “You do not get to make that decision. I believe none of us will stand aside and watch you be murdered.”

“He’s right.” Percival said to Lancelot.

The Ash Man was stubborn. “I have caused enough suffering-”

For you, the answer to that potential problem was already clear. “If you are not welcome there, then we’ll go somewhere else.”

Percival agreed to that, “Yes.”

“They are loyal to you.” Gawain spoke to Lancelot. “You’ve earned their trust. And I believe you can earn the trust of my friends as well.”

Lancelot nodded a bit and fidgeted with the reins. He had never been afraid to die, but now that he had found people who he considered ‘home’ it was suddenly a frightening thought that this chance to be appreciated and perhaps even loved, could be lost again.

You reached over and placed a hand over his restless one, giving it an encouraging squeeze. “You can do this. I have faith in you. Whatever comes, we face it together.”

He was resisting the urge to turn his hand and take hold of yours, aware that the knight and Percival were undoubtedly looking his way now. You withdrew your hand, not wanting to have Gawain or Percival begin to speak of your familiarity towards him.

As the journey continued, Gawain spoke of the ones you’d might be meeting in Gramaire. Kaze, Pym, Arthur, all friends of the knight and most were Fey. Lancelot was listening calmly until Gawain mentioned how Arthur was the man that Lancelot had been fighting on the day that he burned the mill until Gawain had pushed him to the ground hard.

Lancelot pressed his eyes shut, recalling the moment with some agitation, he feigned to be disinterested. “The Manblood.”

“Yes. The Manblood.” Gawain tried not to smirk at him.

He was not amused. “And you believe he will be forgiving after I tried to send an arrow into him and my sword? After I humiliated him by making him fall to the ground like a fish washed up on land?”

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose at his inconvenient former meeting with this person. Unbelievable…

Gawain informed him. “If you must know what you are about to ride into, you tried to kill Kaze as well. And you are the first who almost succeeded and made her chose to flee from a battle. Pym is from the same village as Percival, the one you burned.”

Lancelot looked close to halting Goliath. “Should I not better sink a dagger into my chest right here and now and spare us the trouble of journeying further?”

“Do not be so dramatic.” Gawain rolled his eyes at him. “And stop behaving like a coward, you are better than this, I have seen it. Now let us just try to reach Gramaire alive and we will handle what comes from there. You have come this far, do not make me drag you the rest of the way.”

There was a certain stern demeanor that the knight had that seemed to work well with Lancelot’s character, as if he needed that harsh interference from time to time. Lancelot send you a discreet look and you tried not to let a small laugh slip out. The knight’s words had their effect, Lancelot scraped his courage back together. Gawain continued to try and tell as much as he could about Gramaire and what had transpired on the side of the Fey to prepare the two of you. And you hoped it would make matters just a little more easier upon arriving there.

The evening sun was bidding it’s farewell again to the lands when you arrived at Gramaire’s walls. Those guarding upon the walls had seen the group coming and were calling out to those below that the Green Knight was approaching the gate. By the time you were at the gate with the horses, it had been opened by those within Gramaire’s city walls. Most were quick to recognize the former Weeping Monk and held a distance, whispering amongst each other, it was Gawain riding beside him that made them remain almost calm but very wary. Gawain leaded the way to quite a big castle.

“Lord Ector, Arthur’s uncle, lives here.” Gawain dismounted, as did the rest of you. “He was not pleased when the Fey came here, but he was not against us sending the paladins away and freeing the city of their hold.”

A few stable boys were quick to run up to take over the reins to lead the horses into the stables. They looked very happy to see the knight, but looked upon Lancelot with confusion. Many eyes were staring, mostly Fey eyes.

“You seized this city with the witch-” Lancelot quickly corrected himself, feeling the glare of Percival reach him, “With Nimue. Father was furious when he heard of it.”

Gawain placed a hand on Lancelot’s shoulder blade, a signal to those watching that there was no threat, and a warning not to cross him by attacking the Ash Man. “Yes. We were able to send some of the Fey, that I had gathered, to safety with ships that Nimue had requested in return for the sword. Some of them stayed however, afraid to leave behind the land they call their home. Whatever happens, do not draw your sword, keep your hands away from it. There are Faun archers still up on the city’s walls and their skill with the bow is unmatched.”

Lancelot looked behind him as he walked and when he made eye-contact with you he tilted his head, silently telling you to walk ahead of them instead of behind him where he could not keep a proper eye on you or Percival. Gawain noticed it and beckoned for you to do so. You placed a hand to Percival’s shoulder and steered him to walk alongside you ahead of the men. Once you reached a set of large doors, the entrance of the castle, Gawain simply opened one and ushered the three of you inside. You instantly felt the change in temperature, it was comfortably warm inside.

Gawain brought his voice down to a whisper, “If Lord Ector lets you hear his dismay to your presence, pay him no mind. He has been less oppossed to our presence here since Arthur has spoken to him. And the Red Spear has provided what her ships can miss of their supplies.”

Lancelot voiced his concern and what he believed would be the result if the Fey continued to find shelter in this city, “Gramaire cannot be safe from the Church for long. This city will suffer under the pressure of famine when the roads leading here will be blocked by the paladins. The Fey here will have to find a safer sanctuary one of these days or risk the Manbloods here turning against them.”

“Indeed.” Gawain sighed deeply. “It is only a matter of time before they come and root us out of this city as well.”

“But where will we go then?” Percival was worried.

“We will find a place, young knight. We always do.” Gawain reassured the boy, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “I am certain Pym and Arthur will be glad to see that I have found you, let us go and see where they are.”

The boy smiled up at the knight and began to follow him when he started walking again. Suddenly Lancelot came to an abrupt halt and you accidentally bumped into him, confusion washed over his features as he looked around, moving a hand under your elbow but too distracted to look at you. In a corner draped with shadows, a figure stood and watched the three of you. You saw Lancelot wrap his hand around the pommel of his sword, it made Gawain turn around to see what on earth was happening.

~“Hello, my dear.”~

The voice came from the shadows before the man did. Gareth stepped into sight, eyes on you a little longer before they turned to Gawain. “Brother, good to see you.”

Gawain was baffled to see the man, but then he quickly walked up to him and embraced him amicably. “Gareth!” He took a step back again, holding him by the shoulders. “Brother. When did you arrive here?”

“Just last night.” Gareth’s gaze glided to you briefly again. “Right on time it appears.”

Gawain stepped towards the three of you. “I want you to meet my-”

“We’ve met. Except for the boy.” Gareth looked at Percival, “You must be Percival. They told me my brother was out to search for you.”

Percival stayed at a distance, having noticed the shocked look on your face and the death stare Lancelot was aiming at the man. Gareth noticed it and set his eyes on those murderous ones, a hint of a smirk at the corner of his lips.

“You.” Lancelot tightened his grip on the sword, trying to keep himself from drawing it out and using it.

“Have you gone mad?” Gareth asked his brother incredulously. “You’ve brought the Weeping Monk within these walls. This sack of dirt send an arrow into my shoulder!”

“It was meant for your neck.” Lancelot deadpanned.

You smacked his arm to scold him for his big mouth, Lancelot ignored it and pushed you a step back with his arm to create more distance between you and Gareth.

“Percival. Go back to the door and wait there.” Lancelot told the boy.

The boy scrunched his nose, looking up at him. “Wha-… Why?”

“Go.” Lancelot’s tone was heavier.

Percival grumbled something under his breath but did as told, crossing his arms in front of his chest once he reached the door again. You knew this meant trouble, he wanted the boy not just out of harm’s way, but also out of ears reach.

“Lancelot.” Gawain gave a warning look. “He is my brother. My kin.”

He did not appreciate it in the slightest. “I am not the one who is a threat here.”

Gareth got closer to Lancelot, appearing to love how close he was to losing his temper. “What have you done to your poor wife to make her stay at your side?”

Your eyes widened, Gawain looked at you and Lancelot and he pieced the puzzle together right away.

Gawain gave Lancelot a look. “‘Wife’?”

“They did not tell you?” Gareth smiled in amusement. “She is his wife. Father Carden wed them to prevent her father from claiming her back. This bastard kept her locked in a filthy room all alone.”

Lancelot could not ignore the disappointed look in Gawain’s eyes. “I was following orders. I could not let my sympathy for her be known, Father would have seen it as a threat.”

Gareth was deliberately asking hard questions to see him falter, “If you felt such sympathy for her, why not let her free?”

Lancelot failed to answer, shame and remorse set into his eyes as he averted them. You stepped between them, shielding Lancelot before it could spiral out of control.

Gareth looked past you at him. “Hiding behind a woman? You’re too much of a coward to face the repercussions of what you’ve done.”

You felt Lancelot touch your arm and warned him. “Don’t even think about moving me out of the way!” When Gareth chuckled, you lost your patience at him. “I don’t care if you are a knight, continue to try and escalate this to a fight and Lancelot won’t be the one you’ll have to face!”

Gareth let his gaze roll freely over you. “You are absurdly attractive when you’re angry, do you know that? If you are still lonely at night, I will gladly offer you company. I have a warm room here.”

Your face ran hot at the proposition. Lancelot clearly understood what Gareth had meant by that, you had sensed him move but followed the movement and by blocking him he bumped into your back.

Gawain looked at his brother appalled. “Gareth.”

“What?” Gareth looked at him.

“She is a married woman!” Gawain pointed out.

“I doubt he cares.” Gareth said as he looked at Lancelot. “He treated her like a prisoner.”

The comment was drawing a bad response from the Ash Man, you could tell. You stopped it from getting out of control.

“Enough.” You spoke to Gareth, dropping your voice low so Percival would not hear, “Bold of you to keep trying to get into my bed, after you’ve threatened to kill me, held me captive and were paid by my father to do so.”

Gareth suddenly grinned, “What would higher my chances?”

You were not given the chance for a clever reply, the sudden absence of Lancelot behind you raised alarm in you. Not even Gawain was fast enough to block Lancelot from moving around you and punching Gareth in the jaw. One hit was all it took to send the Fey knight to the floor, Lancelot stepped back right away when Gawain told him to stop. Gawain proceeded to help his brother up from the floor, it had dented Gareth’s pride.

Lancelot returned to your side. “Leave her be.” Fury still reigned in his eyes. “She has expressed her indifference towards you.”

Gareth wiped the drops of blood from his nostril. “How can anybody be certain of her free will when you are around her?”

You decided to approach Gareth directly, breaking free from Lancelot’s grip when he tried to prevent it. Gareth seemed rather surprised that you would get so close to him after all.

After calming yourself down, you tried to reason with Gareth. “How can you call yourself a knight and be so eager to seek out this strife?”

Gareth’s expression changed, his tense body relaxed. “Forgive me, Lady of Ravenwick. But I do not understand how someone such as him can be trusted.”

Hearing him speak more calmly helped to have a honest conversation. “The Church started a war against the ones they do not understand. Is this what you wish for too?”

“No.” He looked at the wall.

Very briefly you touched his arm to draw his attention again. “I do not want to feel as if there is a constant risk of someone I care for getting hurt. Can I ask that a knight of the Fey will refrain from seeking war with someone who seeks peace?”

Gareth chewed his cheek for a moment, trying to ignore the encouraging and expecting look Gawain was sending him. “I’ll grant him a chance.”

It was a relief to hear, when Gareth looked down at the small distance between you he smirked and it made you step back.

“Just one more thing. To settle our grievances.” you said.

He hummed curiously. You slapped him. Not hard but just strong enough that the sound echoed in the hallway. Gareth seemed far more shocked than he had been after being struck by Lancelot, he held a hand against his stinging cheek. No one had seen it coming.

Your voice was strong and clear, “For your behavior towards me. For putting a sword to my throat and daring to proposition me while I was in that house with you. Be better!”

The shock left his face very slowly, but it lingered in his eyes. The apology poured right out of him, “I’m sorry.”

“You heard the lady.” Gawain sounded proud. “Leave them be, Gareth. They are my guests here.”

“You are no help.” Gareth muttered to him. “The Feyguard is supposed to help each other.”

Gawain crossed his arms over his chest. “You were a knight, before you sold your loyalty for coin.”

“I’ve stopped.” It stung at Gareth’s pride. “And I never stopped fighting for the Fey. If you give the Weeping Monk a chance, you should do the same for your own blood.”

“Lancelot, " Gawain corrected him, “has shown that he deserves it. I expect the same of you.”

Gareth gave a sharp nod, yielding to his brother, then he offered Lancelot his hand as a gesture of goodwill. You could see how the Ash Man was contemplating on breaking it instead of shaking it, then he looked at you to see your opinion on it, you gave a nod. Lancelot shook Gareth’s hand, the firm and strong hold a silent message between them.

“I’d love to stay and see Arthur’s reaction, but I have matters to attend to. Good luck.” Gareth said and walked away.

Percival approached again, “What’s his problem?”

Gawain walked next to Percival. “That was my brother, Gareth. Once, he was part of the Feyguard, but his tendency to seek out trouble has driven him away from the values we promise to uphold as knights. Do not worry about him, he barks louder than he bites.” Then the knight send you and Lancelot a look. “Should the two of you not tell him the truth before he learns it from someone else?”

Percival snapped his eyes to you. “What truth?”

What use was it to keep it a secret now? Gareth had already told Gawain, he’d surely tell everyone else too. From the looks of it, Lancelot was leaving the decision to you.

You halted and told the boy the truth, “Lancelot and I are wed.”

“Wed?!?” The boy was stunned. “But… he’s a monk.”

“It’s complicated.” your palms were starting to feel clammy.

Percival tried to make sense of it all. “Is that why you were kissing?”

You couldn’t muster up the courage to speak, and when you locked eyes on Lancelot he simply acted oblivious to your silent request for help with this. That rotten…

“I…” You simply didn’t know what to say to that.

“What kind of monk are you actually?” Percival asked Lancelot, whilst scrunching his nose.

Lancelot was speechless at the boy’s reaction.

“I can’t believe it!” A loud voice thundered from up ahead, a man approached fast and drew his sword. Three women were following suit fast.

You quickly grabbed hold of Percival and moved him a few steps away as a precaution. Gawain quickly took place in front of Lancelot, quietly telling him to take some steps back too. The women stopped before they got too close, but the man seemingly hoped that Gawain would step aside.

Instead the knight held out an arm to stop him, other hand moving to the pommel of his sword should it be needed. “Arthur, stop! Listen to what I have to say first!”

“Percival!” The freckled girl noticed the boy.

Percival clearly knew her. “Pym!”

“Out of the way, Gawain!” Arthur growled in anger and pointed the sword at him.

Another woman, Fey, moved skillfully fast and held a curved sword under Arthur’s throat. “Do not threaten the Green Knight!”

Arthur lowered his sword and pointed past the knight at Lancelot. “That vile scum over there brought terror upon us all, Kaze! He hunted Nimue, he tortured Bergerum and set fire to a mill filled with Fey just to get to us!”

“What is he doing here, Green Knight?” Kaze demanded to know.

Gawain kept a sharp watch on Arthur. “His name is Lancelot, and he is not the monster we have believed him to be. I found Percival alive, because he saved the boy from Brother Salt. He fought the Trinity Guard when they tried to stop him from letting the boy go free. He helped me save Feys on our way here. He’s one of us. Ash Folk.”

“Impossible.” Kaze was shocked.

“It is the truth.” Gawain assured her. “He bears their marks and holds the power of Fey Fire.”

You locked eyes on the women who stood at a distance to see the display. A dark-haired woman stood beside the girl called ‘Pym’, a spear in her hand and a intimidating look in her eyes. She was watching with intrigue and a strong bit of vigilance.

“Ash Folk?” Pym blurted out. “I thought they were all dead.”

That was painful to hear… it was as if you were merely a remainder of a clan long gone.

Arthur cared little for how rare the Ash Folk were, because he was simply not aware of it. “Fey or not, this is my uncle’s city, and he is not welcome here! Get him out!”

Gawain did not yield. “This is not just your decision to make, Arthur. Sending him away is foolish. We do not have enough people on our side who can fight!”

Kaze was looking Lancelot up and down, measuring him up no doubt. “How can you be sure that he is on our side?”

The knight was calmer when speaking to her. “He is Fey and he betrayed the Church, he did it all to save one of our own. They will be looking for him and wish to see him punished for his betrayal against them.”

Lancelot stepped forward, tired of seeing others step into danger for him. “I have turned away from the Church-”

Arthur shook his head in anger and disbelief. “There is no place here for a butcher like you. I saw what you did by the mill!”

The title was an insult to him. “I had my orders. I obeyed them. That does not mean that I approved of them.”

The Manblood rose his voice, “You try to say that you feel remorse for torturing Bergerum to lure the Green Knight out of that mill?!? I’m supposed to believe that? What was it that you said? Let me recall.” Arthur stepped dangerously close. “You said you were willing to wait for us, but that you would need to ‘occupy your time’, then you sank your sword into him and threatened to untwist his stomach. I still hear his screams even now!”

Lancelot’s gaze fell to the floor for a moment. And you struggled to listen to what he had done, feeling how the new knowledge set it’s claws into you. Unfortunately, Lancelot had noticed the change in your eyes, and so had Arthur.

The Manblood spoke to you, “Did they tell you that, Miss? You’re in the presence of a monster.”

Lancelot did not appreciate it. “Don’t.”

It was the spark Arthur had been waiting for to set fire to the oil. “Don’t you dare tell me what I can or cannot do! We should kill you where you stand!”

Gawain was visibly getting angry. “Killing him would be a mistake! We have Father Carden’s second in command at our side! The one who knows all the secrets of the Red Paladins and how they work. Their plans, their secrets, their strategy, he has it all! Do you not think that Father Carden would entrust him with matters that could change the course of this war?!”

“And you believe we can trust him with matters of the Fey? With matters that can change the course of the war and lead the paladins to victory?!” Arthur snapped back.

“He will not return to the Church!” Gawain said with conviction.

“How can you be sure?” Arthur scoffed.

Gawain pointed right at you but looked the Manblood dead in the eye. “See her? Half-Fey. Ash Folk like him. His wife. If he returns he loses not just her, but the boy he saved and risked his life for as well. Now, my trust is not given easily, but when I saw what he did for them I knew there was good in him. He belongs with the Fey!”

Arthur sneered, “Who says that she is not a mad Fey murderer as well?”

“Arthur.” Gawain disliked the hostile attitude.

It hit a nerve in Lancelot. “What I have done has nothing to do with her! She did not choose to be wed to me, it was decided for us!”

Arthur was appalled by it. “The Church forced this poor Fey woman to marry you? That is even worse!”

You hated how close Arthur was with the sword and Lancelot seemed to follow the advice of the knight to not draw out his own. You tried to step between them but Lancelot blocked you with his arm.

It was Percival who came and pushed Arthur back. “Stop it!”

“He’s dangerous, Percival! Nimue would have judged him to die!” Arthur tried to make the boy see reason.

The boy took on a defence stance. “No, she wouldn’t have! Nimue would have listened! She would have listened to what I’d tell her! Before she had the sword everyone always treated her like a monster, just like they do with Lancelot! She’d give him a chance to prove he is not one!” He snarled in warning, “If he has to leave, I won’t stay either!”

Gawain spoke to Arthur’s conscience, “Nimue would never forgive you for this, Arthur. She loved Percival.”

The Manblood was torn. “This is madness!”

Gawain stepped right in front of him. “We need him! And you know it! I gave you a chance, I ask that you do the same.”

“Please.” you begged Arthur. “I swear to you, and on my life, that we are here to help. Please, don’t send us away.”

“You can stay.” Arthur decided.

That did not mean Lancelot could and you decided to touch his arm to show another side of him to Arthur. Even Lancelot did not know how to react to the gesture that brought a message across.

“One chance. I beg you, Arthur.” You did not let go, even if the Ash Man felt self-conscious that they saw. “We will repay you for it.”

“Fine.” Arthur yielded sharp, barely able to belief he was doing this. “One chance. But if your husband causes trouble…” He held back the threat only because Percival was there to hear and glaring at him. Arthur straightened his back and looked at the dark-haired woman with the spear for a moment. He turned to Lancelot again. “We lost a lot of good people on that beach when the raiders attacked us before they could board the Pendragon ships. You will make yourself useful, or find a place somewhere far away from us.”

Lancelot presented himself as obedient. “I will aid wherever I can.”

The Manblood gave a sharp nod, gravely bothered by the situation that the Green Knight had brought to Gramaire.

“We will lock them into a room for the night. That is not negotiable.” Arthur told Gawain, then looked at Lancelot. “Tomorrow you will tell us everything you know. And I mean everything. I suggest you think well about that. It is time you do the right thing.”

Every word was filled with venom. You could tell that he loathed Lancelot.

“A fair request.” Gawain looked at you and Lancelot hopeful.

But Lancelot gave some resistance. “She should not have to undergo this treatment, Gawain.”

“It’s fine.” you told them. “They don’t know us and they need to see that we can be trusted.”

What appeared on the Ash Man’s face could only be described as a pout. He finally gave a nod, agreeing to the terms.

Arthur looked at Kaze. “Kaze?”

She gave a nod, began to walk and beckoned for Gawain to walk with her. When Percival did not follow, you halted.

“Percival?” You saw him at Pym’s side.

Arthur clarified why that was, “He has his own room here, and we know him. It’s you who we need to keep an eye on.”

You gave no resistance to that, it was a relief that the boy would not have to be locked into a room. “I will see you later.” you assured the boy.

Percival gave a small but sympathetic smile. “It’s going to be fine.”

Lancelot had halted too and was far more reluctant to leave the boy with people he had just met. “Percival.”

“It’s alright.” The boy comforted. “I know them.”

He still did not move and Gawain got worried that the Ash Man would do something foolish.

It was Percival walking up to him and quietly embracing his waist that broke the tension that had build in the air. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Lancelot had a hand on the back of the boy’s head. “Yes.”

Percival let go and stepped back. “Now please do what Arthur asks. He’ll see that you’re not the Weeping Monk anymore.”

It was a child that was able to calm the storm within him. Lancelot reluctantly began to follow Gawain and you followed a little behind. What Arthur had said kept going through your mind, how Lancelot had once tortured their friend Bergerum… It had been so upsetting to hear and you couldn’t deny that you wished you hadn’t. It left you conflicted, you wanted to talk to him about it but feared the answers that would come. You fought of the nausea that the distress caused in your stomach, he was trying so hard to atone for his past and you felt terrible for reacting like this to hearing of it.

“Everything alright?” Gawain happened to look back at you as they walked.

You quickly answered, “Yes.”

That slight tilt of Lancelot’s head let you know that he doubted that answer, he was looking at you from the corner of his eyes and you simple shook your head a little to let him know it wasn’t worth speaking of.

Especially not where others could hear.

Taglist:

@ourlazydetectivekitten @the-great-adventures-of-me @linkpk88 @fxrchxldws @elenaoftheturks @slytherlight @beananacake @crystallizedtime @moonlightaura03 @angrygardendeer @have-aheart @5am-cigarette @arcanenature @thewinterskywalker @notyourwildestdream

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Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist of this story. Using this old list from the previous fic.

#lancelot x reader #cursed #the weeping monk #weeping monk x reader #cursed netflix #cursed lancelot #weeping monk #weeping monk x you #the weeping monk x reader #lancelot #daniel sharman fanfic #daniel sharman character #daniel sharman

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potatoplace · 1 day ago

Text

Get Cozy Since We're Both Lonely

Welcome To The Family: Chapter 1 | series masterlist

chapter 2 | ACOTAR x reader masterlist

Nesta x Reader

Story Summary: You lost your family in the attack on Velaris by Hybern. Nesta lost her humanity and gained a tremendous amount of trauma. Together you find a grand romance between yourselves, and an unwavering commitment to help each other.

Warnings: smut-ish, smut-lite maybe? Nothing too graphic, but a looot of kissing, very horny lol

Words: ~7k

Author's Note: oh my goooood I love this SO MUUUCH SAPPHIC NESTA YES PLEASE THANK YOU BRAIN. I would very much like to have Nesta as my wifey, thank you very much. I hope you all like this! A very different vibe than what I've been writing recently lol. But yesss enjoy my sweet Nesta being treated like the lovely person that she is! (Also this ended up sooo much longer than I expected) - oh and series name is a Watsky song, and the chapter title name is lyrics from it 🫶

18+ only pls

🤍🩶🤍🩶🤍

She was beautiful.

Gorgeous.

Ethereal.

A goddess brought before you, rendered into flesh, perusing the stacks of your bookstore nearly every day.

The eldest sister of your High Lady had utterly captivated you from the moment you had met her, her presence never failing to draw your eyes.

She was breathtaking, yes, but it was everything about her that kept your attention. Her tastes in literature, her coffee order - two shots of espresso poured over ice - the way she dressed, how she always had her hair pulled up, her laugh, her voice.

Each new thing you learned about her, saw in her stunning blue gray eyes made you more interested in Nesta, filling your thoughts with her.

Never before had you felt infatuated with another female, though you had felt an attraction towards some.

But Nesta?

Your thoughts revolved around her visits to your bookstore, each day spent hoping that she would walk in.

It had only been a few months since you had first met Nesta, and only a few months before that since you had lost your family.

The attack on Velaris had stolen your family from you, leaving you in charge of the bookstore and coffee shop that your family had so happily run for generations.

And now it was just you.

Meeting Nesta had been the first good thing to happen to you since that fateful day, her husky voice asking if you carried any romance novels.

From those words alone, you were a goner.

An instant blush had covered your face as you led her over to said section, reluctantly leaving her to browse the titles you carried.

You wanted to know what titles interested her.

Romance had been your own favorite genre since you had been a teenager, only a decade ago. Not what your family had teased you about them being - primarily sex with no plot. No, you preferred soft writing, filled with the gentle building of feelings and, yes, occasionally ending with a few scenes of smut. But the buildup was what you preferred, and the faithful love that the characters had built between them.

And to your absolute delight, Nesta was the same. She even binge read your favorite series, Enchanted, within a week, returning every day to pick up the next book.

Each day, you felt as though her fingers brushed against yours for slightly longer, lingering as she took her receipt.

But you weren't brave enough to ask her if she felt the same overwhelming attraction and interest that you held for her. You knew that there were some fae who enjoyed the company of the same sex, but Nesta had once been a human, and you weren't sure of how accepting they were.

So you stayed quiet, drinking in every second of her presence, giving her free refills of coffee when she chose to stay and read in one of the cozy armchairs you had in front of the fireplace.

Every day you saw her kept your mind off the gaping void in your chest, filling you with warmth. The only other thing that came close to the same effect as Nesta had was the novels that had become your life. Every new book that passed into your store caught your attention, giving you something to fill your mind with.

Today has been hard. Eight months since your family had been slaughtered, and the sky was weeping with you. Hardly any customers had entered your building, for which you were thankful. Your eyes were blurry more often than they weren't, tears slipping down your face, so similarly to the rain sliding down the windows.

Rarely did you drink, but you found yourself at Rita's that night, looking for something to soothe your pain in a way that written words could not. Two vodka cranberries later, and the noise of the bar had become a pleasant thing, your head bobbing to the music.

Someone slid onto the stool next to you. "I'll have a gin and tonic, please," the familiar, rich voice said from your left.

A turn of your head confirmed that it was Nesta who had sat next to you, dressed in a high necked, long sleeved dark purple dress. Your could just see her black heeled boots, hooked on the bar of the stool.

As usual, she looked fantastic. Her hair was braided and pinned into a crown around her head, her eyes sparkling with a bit of pale lavender eyeshadow.

"Hello, Y/N. I've never seen you in here before," Nesta said once she had noticed your eyes on her.

"Ah, I uhm... I don't go out too often, anymore," you replied, your voice a bit shaky. "Do you come here often?"

"Every now and then, when I don't feel like spending my evenings in solitude," Nesta explained, the hints of a smile starting to show. "And I should feel lucky, then, that I happened to be here the same night you decided to come out."

"Oh?" You asked, a bit of heat rising to your cheeks. "Have you been hoping to see me here?"

The hints had turned to a full blown grin, a stunning sight on her.

You would do anything to see it again.

"As a matter of fact, I have. I wanted to ask you about something," Nesta said, a hint of... heat? In her voice.

You bit your lip. "And?"

Nesta's eyes flicked away from yours briefly, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. "Do you believe in love at first sight?"

Your heartbeat quickened, more blood coming to your cheeks. Before her? You had hoped. After her? You knew. "I do."

Nesta's eyes crinkled, warmth flooding them. "That's funny, I do too." The bartender set Nesta's drink in front of her, and she took a long sip. "I wasn't sure about it for a while, but I think I'm convinced now."

"Really? What changed?" You asked, slightly breathless, both from anticipation and having drank more than you had in couple of months.

Nesta's soft laugh had you melting, your body leaning in her direction, breathing in a bit of her snow and fire scent - quite possibly more intoxicating than the drinks you'd had.

"You. I can't- I have never wanted to be around someone, or wanted someone as much as I want you," Nesta breathed, blush coloring her cheeks as she stared into your eyes, her confession hanging between the two of you.

A smile spread across your lips. "That's good, perfect, actually. I feel the same, Nesta," you admitted, drinking in the way her eyes lit up at your words.

"I'm glad to hear that we're in agreement," Nesta said, finishing the rest of her drink before standing. "Dance with me?" She asked, holding out one of her elegant hands for you to take.

You did in a heartbeat, savoring the warmth of her hand in yours.

You were an awful dancer, but with Nesta next to you, those soft laughs and shining eyes directed at you, you didn't mind embarrassing yourself a bit. Not when she kept pulling you in close, your chests pressed together, lips hovering an inch apart as you gazed up at her, your eyes locked together.

The night passed in a blur of dancing and stumbling back to your apartment, arms locked tightly together in the cool May night. Into your bookstore, past the coffee bar, bookshelves, up the stairs and into your apartment.

Somehow you ended up on the couch, both of you barefooted, hands hovering over each other - afraid to make first contact.

"I... I've never... Done this," Nesta gestured between you. "Before."

You could hear the nerves in her voice now that you were alone together, in the quiet of your living room.

"I haven't either," you admitted with a shy smile. "But it... Are you okay?"

Nesta's lips tilted up. "I'm okay. Just... a tad nervous," she whispered.

Your nose scrunched when your smile widened. "I am too. We can be nervous together," you giggled, happy to see Nesta's expression matching your own. You let your hands touch her, one resting on her right shoulder, the other falling to her left arm, a thumb rubbing over the soft fabric of her dress. Nesta's eyes flicked down before returning to your face, a light blush crawling over her cheeks.

She let her own arms fall over your shoulders, hands toying with the curls of your hair, nails brushing gently against your scalp. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, the sensation sending a pleasurable shiver down your spine.

When they opened again, Nesta's face was closer, her eyes darting down to your lips.

You took the plunge, bringing your lips to hers. Soft, plush, exactly how you'd imagined they would feel. It was a kiss just like those you had read about, gentle and tender, full of hope and longing. You let your arms encircle Nesta as she pulled your closer, one of her hands gently fisted in your hair and the other pressing against your back.

When you parted, it was just barely, your lips hovering next to each other as you breathed in the same air, cheeks flushed as your eyes met.

"I think... Being nervous together is a good idea," Nesta breathed, a giggle leaving your lips.

"I agree." You kissed her again, this one just as sweet but firmer, more sure. Your mouths fit perfectly together, moving in tandem without a thought, only pulling away to reposition. Nesta gently pulled you over her lap, your legs straddling hers, lips returning to yours as soon as you were settled, chests pressed together. Her hands returned to your hair, keeping you close as your own cradled the back of her head.

You couldn't get enough of her, get close enough to her. And it seemed as though she was in the same state, keeping you pulled into her even when you parted for breath.

It was when one of her hands snaked underneath your shirt, running up the line of your spine that you let out a soft gasp, hand clutching at her shoulder. Your cheeks somehow colored further, but Nesta seemed delighted by the noise. Her fingers feathered over your spine again, eyes drinking in the way yours fluttered from her touch.

"Sensitive?" She asked, her voice deep, needy.

"Mhm." A scrape of her fingernails had your spine arching, pressing you further against her. "Not fair," you mumbled.

"Mm, you'll just have to find my sweet spots, love," Nesta whispered lowly in your ear. She pressed a gentle kiss to it, then a slow trail down your neck, hand continuing its slow path along your spine.

"Is that a challenge?" You asked breathily, tilting your neck to give her better access.

"More like an invitation."

Your heart stuttered. "I'll definitely be taking you up on that," you whispered, a soft moan leaving your lips when Nesta's lips sucked on your neck gently.

Your head dropped to her shoulder, arms tightening around her. You felt like jelly already, and you hadn't even taken your clothes off.

"Which way to the bedroom, Y/N?" Nesta asked once she relinquished your neck, peppering small kisses along it.

"Mm... Behind the couch," you said, distracted by how intoxicating Nesta was proving herself to be.

Nesta chuckled softly into your ear. "Care to show me?"

You pulled away from her slightly, meeting her eyes. Absolutely stunning, and full of lust. You nodded, and managed to pull yourself off of her, albeit reluctantly. In the few seconds it took to lead her into your bedroom, you missed her warmth and gentle touch.

The faelights in your room came to life as you entered, softly illuminating your room.

You were glad you had made your bed this morning.

Nesta's hands on your waist turned you around, pulling you back into her and into a kiss, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt.

The alcohol still running through your veins made it easy to pull it off of you, leaving your breasts covered in just a bralette, Nesta's fingers quickly running over the fabric.

"You are absolutely stunning," Nesta said softly. "And you'll have to let me know where you got this," she demanded as she tugged on one of the straps with one hand.

"I think you'll like the matching panties then, too," you giggled, pulling her lips to yours.

"Oh really? How about we find out?" Nesta asked, gently pushing you to the bed, a playful fire in her eyes.

"Sounds like a plan to me," you said, letting her push you onto the bed, her body following soon after.

🤍🩶🤍🩶🤍

Waking was a slow process, your bed warmer and cozier than you ever remembered it being.

It was only when you registered soft breathing coming from in front of you that you remembered the previous night, a smile coming to your lips.

Nesta.

Your eyes fluttered open, met with the sight of her sleeping in front of you. You felt her arm draped over your side, hand against your back.

You had never felt more comfortable or at peace.

Still, the light filtering in through the curtains told you it was past the time you normally woke to open the bookstore, and you had to slowly pull yourself from Nesta's grasp, much to your dismay.

You would much rather stay here, wrapped up with her forever.

You had just finished washing up and dressing in the bathroom when you heard Nesta moving about. Opening the door, you saw that she had sat up in your bed, sheets pulled to her chest.

"Morning," you said quietly as you left the bathroom, standing between it and the bed, unsure of how to proceed.

"Morning, Y/N," Nesta said, her voice still thick with sleep.

You bit your lip, wishing in that moment that you could read minds. "So... Do..." you paused. "Do you want to do this again?"

Nesta blinked at you a few times, before a small smile slid across her face. "I'd like that," she answered quietly. She almost seemed... Shy.

"How about... tonight?" You asked, delighted when she immediately shook her head yes.

"I'd love that, Y/N. When should I come by?"

"Mm, I normally close the store around six, so you could come by then. Would... Would you like to go to dinner?"

"That sounds lovely, Y/N. Six it is," Nesta confirmed, and your heart fluttered in your chest.

"Perfect, Nesta. I've got to go open the shop, but feel free to bathe if you'd like. I'll see you downstairs," you said, a smile glued to your face as you took in your last look at her before you left the room.

Her hair was still in its style from last night, but strands of it were poking out in some places.

She took your breath away, even when ruffled by sleep.

Opening the store went smoothly, luckily with no customers already waiting outside.

Less than half an hour later, Nesta came downstairs, clothed again in her dress from last night, looking just as beautiful.

"Coffee?" You asked, already making her usual drink for her.

"Yes, please," she sighed, rubbing at her forehead. "I don't think I drank enough water last night," she said with a soft laugh, warmth rushing straight to your heart.

"I'll make sure you do in the future," you said lightly.

Nesta smiled at you, her eyes crinkling. "I'd like that."

You bit your lip as you grinned at her, passing her coffee over, your hand lingering on hers. "I'll see you tonight?"

Nesta nodded. "I'll see you tonight, Y/N."

She left your store, taking one last glance over her shoulder before shutting the door behind her.

You were grinning like an idiot, absolutely thrilled with how well last night had went, no matter how unexpected it had been.

Your date that night went perfectly, ending with the two of you snuggled up in bed after a vigorous make out session, both of you too tired to do much more.

The two of you ended up going to dinner the next night.

And the next.

Soon enough, you had spent an entire month together, wrapped in each other's presences. You could safely say you were falling for her, or had fallen for her, or that you were madly in love with her already. All of them were true, as your love continued to grow each and every day, with every passing second you spent with her.

One of your favorite memories so far was yesterday, when the two of you had a picnic by the Sidra, a soft blanket spread out beneath you and a basket loaded full of your favorite pastries, cheeses, fruit, and smoked meats, and a bottle of sparkling wine that the two of you shared.

Together you had read the newest romance novel to arrive at your shop, spending the entire day together with the babbling of the river as your chosen music.

Eventually the two of you had packed up and gone back to her apartment, her large bathtub the most recent place you had made love.

Over your perfect first month together, you had noticed... Nesta seemed to be struggling. There were days that she couldn't keep a train of thought, wrapped up in the memories that you assumed were not pleasant ones. Sometimes she snapped at you over the smallest things, normally something to do with noise.

You never blamed her, knowing that she had gained an entirely new set of senses in the past year... But you wanted to love her. To help her. In any way that you could.

So today, after much prodding and gentle suggestion, you were taking Nesta to the office your own therapist worked at.

Not to your therapist, of course, but to one of the many other trusted trauma mind healers that Velaris had.

"You said I can leave if I want, right?" Nesta asked, her voice a bit shaky.

"Of course. The first session is normally pretty light, mainly getting your back story and what you'd like to work on. And their rooms have silencing wards on them so no one else will hear anything. And the files they keep are spelled so only your therapist can read them unless you give permission. Not even the High Lord."

You knew you were overexplaining, but it had been the only way so far to talk Nesta into getting some kind of help, along with your offered bribe of massages after every session she did. And she had been nervous about her brother in law possibly accessing the files... You weren't entirely certain on their relationship, but on the few nights you hadn't had dinner together, she had gone to her family dinners. And those nights, she tended to come to your apartment in an off mood, like the confidence had been squished out of her.

So you made certain she knew any information she gave her healer would be safe, unable to be accessed unless she allowed it.

Nesta sighed, but let you lead her into the office anyways. "I want lots of cuddling, too," she whispered as the pair of you approached the receptionist's counter.

"Whatever you want, cutie," you agreed, giving her a peck on the cheek. "We're here for an appointment, for Nesta," you said to the receptionist, squeezing Nesta's hand back when she gripped yours tighter.

"Alright, I'll let your healer know," the female behind the counter said, and gestured towards the sitting area. "Go ahead and take a seat, she'll be out for you soon."

"Thank you," you said, leading Nesta over to a couch and wrapping an arm around her. "I'm so proud of you, Nes. Really, it's hard to start this stuff... It took me a long time to get myself in."

A light blush dusted Nesta's cheeks at your words, but she didn't fight them. "Thank you, love. I'm... I'm glad you convinced me..." she whispered, her voice still filled with nerves.

A door swung open, revealing a middle aged high fae female. "Nesta?"

You gave her a big smile before urging her to get up, blowing her a kiss before she disappeared behind the door.

The hour passed by slowly, each minute lightening the worry in your heart. You had been a bit worried about Nesta leaving the appointment five minutes in, but after a half an hour, you were certain that she would make it through the entire session.

To your relief, she did. When she walked out, her eyes were a bit red, but she waved goodbye to the female and promised to meet her next week. Pride swelled in your chest at that, so happy that your love was ready to commit to help.

She walked over to you, arms extended, and without hesitating you gave her a big hug, squeezing her tight.

"How'd it go, love?"

"Good... Hard, but it was... It was nice to talk."

You smiled gently at her, eyes holding her gaze. "I'm glad, Nes. I think you'll enjoy it. *And I'm excited to give you a massage," you giggled, pulling her out of the office and back into the streets.

Nesta laughed, and even if it was still a bit sad, you took it as a win. "I'm excited for that too, honey."

You flushed at the pet name- she had rarely called you that outside of the privacy of your bedroom. It brought up... heated memories.

Nesta knew that, and pinched your ass as she practically chased you back home. As soon as you were shut in your apartment, she threw her dress off, leaving her in just her undergarments, and laid down on the couch. "Massage please," Nesta said, her slight whine so cute that you couldn't help but laugh.

"Yes, my love," you giggled, crawling on top of her so you could start easing the tension from her back and shoulders.

Over the next two weeks, both you and Nesta continued seeing each other whenever you were able, and Nesta started going to see her healer twice a week, already making some strides in learning to manage her trauma.

It was a Wednesday night when you said it. You had both clumsily cooked chicken alfredo, both of you mediocre at cooking at best, so it was a surprise it came out decent at all. The process had probably taken longer than it needed to, with how often the two of you stopped to kiss and touch each other.

It was over dinner that it slipped out, so casually that it shocked even you.

Nesta had just told you a joke about - you couldn't even remember what it was about - but you had laughed so hard, a laugh that was pure joy.

"Mother, I love you," you said, clearly, boldly.

Nesta's eyes widened slightly, and in the few seconds she didn't respond your heart sank into the floor, in the earth.

"I- I love you too," Nesta said softly, a gentle expression on her face.

You grinned and grabbed one of her hands, pressing a firm kiss to the top of it. "You do?"

Nesta narrowed her eyes at you playfully before smiling at you. "I do, Y/N."

"Good. That makes me just as happy as loving you makes me," you cooed, standing from your chair and going over to her. "I hope you know how lucky I consider myself to have you in my life."

Nesta flushed bright red at your admission, her heart thumping loudly in her chest. "I- I don't understand how I got you," Nesta whispered, tears filling her eyes. "I'm such a-" she sniffled. "A bad person."

You sank to your knees in front of her, hands cupping her face. "Hey- that is not true at all Nesta. You are so wonderful, and caring, and kind. You are an amazing person, Nesta. And you have me because you are an amazing person. I love you for who you are, Nessie." You hoped your eyes conveyed just how much your cherished her, cared for her, loved her.

Nesta was quiet for a minute, a few tears rolling down her cheeks. "Really?"

You smiled at her lovingly. "Really. Now, if anyone said those words to you, I will go beat the crap out of them for you. You do not deserve to hear those words. And if it was you that said them to yourself, well, I'll make sure you know every day just how amazing you are," you offered.

Nesta laughed weakly. "I appreciate the offer, but I think I'll be able to handle it. Though you praising me... I think I can handle that," she said, her lips just barely tilting up.

"Well, let me start right now. You are so sweet, and you know how to cook just as well as I do, aaand you know exactly how to cheer me up when I'm having a tough day," you said, rising up a bit to pepper kisses over Nesta's wet cheeks. Her eyes closed and nose wrinkled as you did so, allowing you to press a light kiss over each eye, causing her to laugh.

"Okay, okay. You can stop," Nesta giggled, wrapping her arms around your shoulders. She pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, soft and sweet. "Thank you, Y/N. For everything."

"You're welcome, my love. Now... How about dessert?" You asked, quirking a brow at her. "Snuggles? Kisses? Actually dessert?"

Nesta rolled her eyes, but stood from her chair and pulled you towards the bedroom. "How about all three? And maybe a bit more?" She asked in a sultry tone.

"A bit more would be lovely."

🤍🩶🤍🩶🤍

Another month passed in almost complete bliss, your life with Nesta falling perfectly into place. Therapy was going well for both of you, and you felt more alive than you had ever since you lost your family.

Nesta was the sun in your life, even when it was raining. Her presence never failed to make you happy, and you loved that you seemed to do the same for her. She was still struggling some days, but she seemed to be better at pulling herself out of it and processing what was wrong.

That alone made you beam with pride, how far she had come in trying to heal.

Every morning now, Nesta helped you open the bookstore, and you had even taught her how to make the drinks you serve in the small café. For most of the day, she read in an armchair next to the fire, and helped you restocked books.

You had mentioned something about needing to pay her for her work, but Nes had adamantly refused, claiming that her time with you was more than enough payment.

So instead, you gave her any books she wanted for free. Most of the time, the books stayed in the building, simply making their way up to your apartment, normally to your bedside tables.

Today, Nesta was out at the High Lord and Lady's house, attending one of the weekly family dinners she was seemingly required to attend.

You didn't mind, of course, you thought that Nesta being close with her sisters was extremely important. It's just...

Every week, she tended to have a bad day after their dinners, and you were... Well, you were concerned that something nefarious was happening there, something that was hurting Nesta. Whatever it was, she had refused to talk to you about it as of now.

So tonight, you'd made yourself a simple salad with a bit of grilled chicken on it, and had a quiet bubble bath while you waited for Nesta to come home.

You'd nearly fallen asleep while reading in bed by the time she came into the bedroom.

"Marry me."

That woke you up, book forgotten as you sat up.

"What?" You asked, heart thudding in your chest.

"Marry me, Y/N," Nesta said again, striding across the room to your bedside. "I don't-" she took a deep, steadying breath. "I don't ever want to spend another day without you, and I don't want to spent another day not married to you."

You were breathing faster now, heart racing in your chest as she spoke. "Really?"

Nesta grinned at you. "Really."

You bolted out of bed and into her arms, letting her spin you in a circle. "Yes! Yes, yes yes, Nessie!" You exclaimed, planting a kiss on her lips once you stilled.

Both of you had rosy cheeks from your excitement, and matching toothy smiles as you stared at each other.

"So... Want to go track down a priestess with me?" Nesta asked, intertwining her fingers with yours.

"Sounds like a plan to me," you said, already moving to the closet to get changed.

"Oh, no, I think you should go just like this," Nesta whispered in your ear as she wrapped her arms around you, one hand resting on your stomach and the other in between your breasts.

You giggled at the suggestion. "Nessie I'm in a nightgown, and a skimpy one at that."

"All the better, just wear a long coat over it," Nesta said between the soft kisses she was placing on your neck.

"As much as you would enjoy the view, I'd much rather be in a pretty and slightly more appropriate dress, love." You started flicking through your options, though you were very distracted by the female behind you, still loving on the skin of your neck.

"I suppose I could change as well, put on something a bit more elegant," Nesta said, pulling away from your neck.

"Mm, we could dress and undress each other for our wedding."

"That's just what I was thinking, honey." Nesta began flipping through her own wardrobe that she'd begun to leave here, quickly settling on a long sleeved dress that would reach her ankles, made of a beautiful silk. It was one of the dresses that you absolutely adored her in, but almost never made it out of the house, or even the bedroom.

"Oh, Nes, you know that after this that dress will absolutely never see the light of day again because I will keep you in here with me for hours, right?"

Nesta chuckled from beside you as she began undressing. "I was counting on that, baby."

You rolled your eyes playfully at her before picking out the dress you would wear. You didn't have near as many fancy dresses as Nesta did, but the silk wrap dress that reached your knees would be nice enough for the occasion. It was in a light lavender, with a ribbon to tie around your waist.

"Love, I could say the exact same thing about your choice. You look fantastic in that dress, I think maybe we'll have to have a little reenactment once a month or so," Nesta said once she eyed the dress you had picked.

You kissed her firmly, pouring all of your love into it. "We just might. Now, let's get dressed quickly so that we can find a priestess before they're all asleep," you said, lightly pulling her dress off its hanger.

It may not have been quick, but you and Nesta both got changed into your chosen outfits, with many kisses and gentle touches exchanged in the process.

"Oh- do we have rings?" You asked just as you left the bookstore, locking it behind you.

Nesta froze for a moment. "No. Shit, how could I have forgotten the rings...?" She muttered.

"That's fine, I'm sure someone will be open in the Palace of Thread and Jewels, and it's on the way to the Temple," you told her, grasping her hand and pulling her in that direction.

Sure enough, there were a few vendors that were just about to pack up, and one of them happened to have a display filled with gorgeous rings, some even shown as a matching set.

Together you picked out a matching set of rings, designed with a thin silver band and a small, pale pink diamond in the center. Simple but elegant, with silver for Nesta and pink for you.

The next task in your list to get married was easily accomplished, with the Temple of Night still buzzing with priestesses. One of them, Rosanna, who you had spoken with at your store before, and was more than willing to help you and Nesta on short notice.

With excitement buzzing in your veins, you and Nesta walked hand in hand into the ceremony room, the vaulted ceiling made entirely of glass and pouring moonlight into the room.

Rosanna stood behind the altar in the center of the room, and gestured for the two of you to stand on either side of it.

Once you were in your places, Rosanna lit the three candles on the altar, letting them burn for a minute before speaking.

"Hold your hands together over the flames, please," she requested, and the two of you complied, sharing happy smiles as your eyes met. "The Mother has brought the two of you together with the strings of fate, and with those very strings you choose to bind yourselves for eternity. Tonight you have decided to share your souls, binding them under the moonlight for better or for worse, never to be parted. The flames beneath your hands represent the trials you might face in your shared lives, but with each other, you will persevere. Do you have vows prepared?"

Nesta spoke first, tears shining in her eyes. "In the time that I have known you, Y/N, you have always helped me, cared for me, and shared your love with me. I hope to always return your affections, to keep you safe, and make you happy. I love you, Y/N, and I will always love you."

By the time Nesta finished her vows, tears were streaming down your face, and you were barely able to pull yourself together to say your own.

"Nesta, you have always been a bright light in my life, bringing me joy even if just with a passing smile or a brush of your hand. You have helped me feel alive again, and have made my life so much happier and lively since we have been together. I love you forever, no matter what."

Now both of you were crying, hands squeezed tightly together over the warmth of the candles.

"The Mother sees your devotion, and blesses this union. You may now kiss the bride," Rosanna said cheerily, watching as you and Nesta raised your clasped hands so that your faces could meet over the flames, a gentle joining of your lips the first kiss of your married life. Together, you blew out the flames, only then releasing your hands. You slid Nesta's onto her ring finger, appreciating how perfect it looked on her. Nesta did the same for you, rubbing her thumb over it once it was securely on your finger.

"Now, who will be taking the other's last name?"

"I'll take Nesta's," you answered quickly, grinning at your now wife. "It would be strange for you to not be Nesta Archeron," you said softly. "And... I'd like to take your last name."

Nesta's light blush was enough of an answer for you, but she confirmed it for Rosanna anyways. "Y/N will be taking my last name."

"That's wonderful. I hope the two of you have a wonderful marriage, Mrs and Mrs Nesta Archeron," Rosanna said formally. "And Y/N, I'll be expecting a coffee as my payment for this," Rosanna teased with a wink before leading the two of you out of the temple. "Now go, enjoy your first night as a married couple!"

You and Nesta giggled softly together, but did as she said, stopping in at Rita's for one drink each. After that, you headed straight home, more than ready to have a long night together. Nesta's wandering hands made themselves known on the walk, pinching your ass every now and then.

By the time you made it into your apartment, Nesta's hands were already untying the ribbon of your dress, her lips on your throat.

Oh yes, it would be a long night.

🤍🩶🤍🩶🤍

The next morning, you decided to keep the store closed, staying in with your new wife instead.

Somehow, that title had made Nesta even more attractive to you, which you had previously thought impossible. You woke before her, and just laid staring at her beautiful face as she slept.

Of course, she had gently swatted at you when she realized you had been watching her sleep, but you only laughed and nuzzled into her, relishing in the soft whimpers she let out when you licked at her neck.

"Good morning, my sweet wife," you whispered in her ear. "How did you sleep?"

"Like a goddess," Nesta said softly, turning so she was facing you. "I think that's due to my pretty little wife sleeping next to me."

You blushed at her words, loving this new title you had for one another. "Mm, I think so too. Having you next to me always makes my sleep better."

Nesta let out a pleased huff, her eyes drifting closed. "That's good, love." She yawned wide, her body going taught before relaxing even more in your arms.

You loved when Nesta was sleepy, she was always so adorable.

"Don't go back to bed, Nessie, I wanted to make breakfast together," you whined quietly, without any real force behind it. If you tried, you could likely fall back asleep in Nesta's embrace.

"Mm, only if you find a way to make me wake up," Nesta replied, yawning halfway through.

An idea sparked in your head.

You gently pushed Nesta back onto her back, ignoring her huffy breaths of protest in favor of crawling beneath the blankets, settling yourself between her legs.

She would be better than breakfast.

🤍🩶🤍🩶🤍

Your first five days of marriage, you hardly left your apartment. If you did, it was for you and Nesta to run the bookstore, only managing it for a couple of hours at a time before you slipped back upstairs after turning over the open sign in the window.

It was absolute bliss, getting to know Nesta even better, hearing more about what she wanted from a marriage. Someone who is not only her partner, but also her best friend, and someone that she can trust.

You were happy to say that you fit the bill.

It was on your sixth day that Nesta paced around your apartment before you had even woken.

"What's up, Nessie?" You asked her, peeling yourself out of bed to stop her in her tracks.

"Somehow-" Nesta paused, taking a calming breath. "Somehow my family found out about our wedding, and they... They want to meet you," she explained, a distraught look on her face.

"I... Is that a bad thing...?" You asked hesitantly.

Nesta nodded, but panicked when she saw your face fall at her answer. "Not because of you! It's because of them. I don't... I don't know how they'll react. I don't care, but I don't want you to be hurt," Nesta clarified.

"Oh, Nes. I'm sure I'll be fine, and if they say anything rude, we can just leave. Right?"

Nesta's face scrunched up in the way she did when she wasn't happy with the outcome, but had to accept it anyway. "I suppose..."

"And if they don't say anything rude, then it will have been a nice gesture of them to care enough to meet me," you said, swiping a thumb soothingly across her cheek.

Nesta sighed. "I guess you're right... So... tomorrow at seven?"

You smiled. "I'll be ready, Nes. Now - I thought that today we could move the rest of your things in here, if you'd like?" You said, attempting to not only distract her from tomorrow, but get her to fully live with you.

It worked, warmth flooding Nesta's lovely blue-gray eyes. "I'd love to, honey."

Once you managed to keep yourselves clothed long enough, moving Nesta's things into your apartment went smoothly. A few extra bookshelves, filled with Nesta's own collection, made its way into your shared apartment, along with all of Nesta's clothes. Beyond that, she didn't have many things, as most of the furniture had come with her apartment.

The rest of the day was spent in privacy, a clumsily made stew your dinner for the day, with more time spent kissing and giggling than actually cooking.

The next morning, Nesta had woken you up with her tongue between your legs, an orgasm rolling through you before you were fully aware of what was happening. You spent the day paying her back, feasting on her as she read some of the more graphic scenes in your favorite series, loving how her hand in your hair guided you.

By the time dinner rolled around you had bathed twice, the second time only being needed after Nesta had pinned you against a wall and sucked marks onto your neck and shoulders, which had faded into pale yellow marks by the time you arrived in front of the High Lord and Lady's newest residence.

The River House.

From what you could see from the outside, the interior was cozy and slightly informal, and you could already hear roaring laughter from within as you stood hand in hand with Nesta in front of the large front doors.

"Are you ready?" Nesta asked quietly. "Because if you aren't, we can-"

"Nessie, it's going to be fine. Now, let's get inside, the sooner we do the sooner we can go home," you said, pressing a gentle kiss to her mouth. "Now, do you want to knock, or should I?"

Nesta shook her head at you and smiled. "I love you," she said as she knocked on the thick wood.

"I love you too."

🤍🩶🤍🩶🤍

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff @lilah-asteria @meritxellao

#get cozy since we're both lonely #welcome to the family #Nesta x reader #nesta x reader fluff #Nesta x reader smut #acotar x reader #acotar x you #fluff #smut #acotar #acotar fic #acotar fanfic #Nesta #Nesta archeron #nesta archeron x reader #tato writes

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