Apple Of My Eye

Apple of My Eye

Pairings: Dream of the Endless x Reader Word Count: 12.2k Warnings: Angst, torture, injuries… A/N: I really love this idea and this character, she’s just so fcking sarcastic and dramatic while literally being tortured, and I think that’s beautiful. Enjoy!

“I give you the sweetest apple blessed with Asmodeus’ curse.”

Roderick Burgess stood before a summoning circle as his cult of worshippers surrounded him in dark cloaks and darker magic. The room was silent, other than the silent chants of his followers underneath his demanding voice.

“I give you the rare black lily of the calla.”

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White Love

iceprince!hongjoong x fireprincess!reader

genre: fantasy, fluff, angst, hongjoong being an absolute flirt-

word count: ~24k

synopsis: there seems to be an eternal winter set in wonderland caused by the ice prince hongjoong, and you- the fire princess who has been laying low for a while- set out to end it. what you don't expect is to find him freezing to death trapped in a tower, and as you save him, you find out that the mages in wonderland are uprising to end the original bloodline- titled prince and princesses. creating a small team with your childhood friend seonghwa and a water mage yunho, you and hongjoong fight against the threat to your life while uncovering secrets and finding unexpected friends and love.

You've had enough of the cold.

You didn't hate winter- it used to be your favourite time of the year, especially the part where you'd brew yourself some coffee and burn your tongue while you sat out in the snow, gloved hands both warm from the cup of coffee in your hand but freezing because of the chilly air.

You loved snow, you loved the white blanket of cloud on earth, and you loved sitting in front of the fire- something you really couldn't do the rest of the year. You loved the cloudy skies and the cool palette of colours that came only in winter. You also loved cuddling to your friends or cats or dogs in winter, putting a hand in someone's pocket and warm both your hands, playing with someone and shoving ice down their back, earning satisfied screams as you giggled and ran away, making snowman and snow animals and having a snowball fight.

But this time, the winter wasn't ending- it had been well past the time for spring to arrive. The trees were still bare, lakes still frozen and it felt like the temperature was dropping every passing day. It should have been summer by now, but nobody dared complain.

It was because of him.

People were careful when they called his name or talked about him- they didn't want the wind to carry their complains to his ears in case he got angry- which couldn't end well. It was already cold enough.

Hongjoong, his name was. The Ice Prince.

Wonderland lived up to its name- a place full of wonders. Anyone with an affinity for magic who couldn't adjust to the lands of the humans settled in Wonderland. It was a free place for all humans whether they possessed magic or not, given they lived peacefully. Of course, the majority was of the Wonderers- the name given to those who possessed any sort of magic.

And you- well, you tried to pass away unnoticed. Your magic was, if not more, as dangerous as Hongjoong's- where his was the gift of ice, yours was the gift of fire.

Polar opposites, that's what you both were, in every aspect. He was a Prince. Every child grew up hearing stories about the Prince of Ice- and he'd built quite a reputation for himself. There were just so many rumours about him that you didn't know what to believe.

The Prince froze his enemies and then shattered their bodies.

The Prince burned him with his cold.

The Prince is just a young kid.

The Prince healed my freezing skin.

The Prince played in snow with my child.

You had no idea what to believe, and whenever you pictured him, you pictured a middle-aged man, even though most of the people had told you he was around your age. You just couldn't help but form this picture of a sulking old man sitting on his ice throne all dressed in white when you thought of him.

But you were no one to judge- you weren't quite in the place to complain when you were living two different lives. Most of the people knew you as a person with a little affinity for fire- enough to light stoves and burn the fire even in the winter, enough to burn metal if you tried long enough.

However, you were called the Fire Princess too- though no one had made the connection yet. It was just that you were too good at your disguise- and you weren't as dramatic as this Hongjoong person. You didn't involve yourself in any sort of politics or drama. The reason you were called the Fire Princess was because you had once saved Wonderland from flooding by a hurricane when you had steamed off all the water threatening to drown your homeland.

That was 5 years ago, and you had since kept a very low profile, getting well adjusted to your mundane life- an owner of a bookstore café. It was cozy and fit well with the vibe of winters, but-

The winter needed to stop.

You were wondering what the reason was- what had the Ice Prince all... disturbed? Was he okay? Was he doing this on purpose? Did he like to see the people suffer because of this endless winter?

Your friend Seonghwa- who basically lived in the café though he was a part-timer- was the only one alive who knew of your true identity. He was your childhood friend and the closest thing you had to a family. You looked at him as he sat in front of the fireplace- he really wasn't handling the cold well anymore. His fingers and toes would often swell due to the cold and you made him stay near you for the time-being. You could keep the café warm enough for him all day long, everyday as long as he needed.

You picked a candy and made your way next to Seonghwa, handing him the candy with a smile as you sat down. "Are your fingers better now?"

"They are, but as soon as I go out and stay too long, they start to freeze again," he sighed, shaking his head.

"I wonder what's got this Hongjoong's panties in a twist," you mumbled, and Seonghwa slapped your arm, but you only shrugged, "What? It's not like he's gonna hear me."

You had a point- but Seonghwa was too involved in the gossip that ran around, and he only shushed you, saying you never knew when the cold could get worse than it already was because he heard one of us complaining.

"Do you think I should get out of my hole and go talk to the Prince of Ice?" You asked after a moment, genuinely wondering if it was time that you confronted this man.

Seonghwa shook his head no rather strongly, making you laugh a bit, "You've kept a low-profile. If you go now and end this winter, it's gonna be too obvious that you're the one they've been searching for."

You supposed he was right- anyone would make the connection this time. One is an incidence, twice is a coincidence, and thrice would be a pattern- your cover would blow.

"But Seonghwa," you leaned forward, "I'm so tired of this cold, I'm beginning to hate it. I really think I should make things normal, see what's up and what's going on. Maybe I can't do anything about it, but at least I can try, for everyone's sake."

"You're gonna miss winter when it's gone," Seonghwa laughed, and you bit your lip to keep from smiling- one of the major reason that you loved winter was that you could burn from within without attracting attention. You could release fire here and there without making it strange. In summers... you really didn't handle the hot weather well, which was ironic.

"Maybe this time, I won't," you said your weak retort, ignoring his snickers and thinking. Should you, or should you not?

You did.

Early morning the very next day, you packed a bag with some simple belongings- some clothes, food, weapons, books for when you got bored and a map. Seonghwa came to see you off as you instructed him on how to take care of the bookstore while you were gone.

"I know," Seonghwa laughed, "Anyone who's curious gets to stay as long as they want and read books, in which case coffee is on the house."

You smiled, "Don't scare the poor souls away, will you?"

Seonghwa smirked- he knew you were talking about his shadow magic. He had a tendency to prank people when he got bored, and you had hence prohibited him from using magic inside the bookstore and the café. "I won't. Promise."

Pleased, you gave him a hug, telling him to look after himself and make sure he didn't stay out long, and he told you to be careful and come back if it got too dangerous. "I can turn him to ashes if he tries anything, you know," you told him, referring to Hongjoong.

"He can turn you to ice just as easily, so don't do anything stupid," Seonghwa pinched his nose bridge, already regretting ever agreeing and not stopping you- but he couldn't.

You left while the sun was rising, going north- you could feel the heat in the air and could feel where it was the coldest- north it was. You didn't need to wear much clothes to protect from the cold since you could warm yourself, but to prevent unwanted attention you had donned a long coat and boots- the latter being a necessity since the ice was getting thicker the further you travelled north.

It wasn't going to be a long journey- it would take two days at most, travelling on horses for the most part until you'd reach the mountains, which was when you'd had to resort to walking.

The mountains stretched some hundred miles, and you were worried just how you were going to find someone who you'd never seen- especially because you knew that when you'd get close, it'd confuse your senses and maybe you'd end up getting lost (not a big deal, you could find your way back somehow) or never finding him (big deal).

Or maybe he'd find you first- which was a big possibility. You'd have to mask your magic as soon as you were closer- but that would result in you feeling the actual cold. So you were weighing your options- risk getting detected by Hongjoong who you're going to find anyway, or risk freezing in the cold and maybe miss the chance to find him?

You shrugged- you'd go with the risk of getting detected. It could work as a shortcut.

The two days to the mountains were as uneventful as they could be. You had tagged along with two older women going in the same direction, exchanging food and gossip, from which you learnt more about what was going on in Wonderland.

You used to be the center of gossip, either as a subject or as a contributor. But ever since the incident 5 years ago, your life had changed. It wasn't the incident itself that changed your life but how people started treating you differently, which made you move and start fresh, Seonghwa soon following after you simply because he wanted a change too- and you were glad he had.

You learnt from the ladies that it was getting restless in the south- the water magicians were causing problems again just like 5 years ago, maybe to provoke the others or call out the fire princess for revenge for their brother. You listened with mundane curiosity, only nodding or reacting with a gasp sometimes, the ladies unknown to the fact that you were the fire princess they were talking about.

Once you reached the mountains and started travelling alone, you really started to feel the gravity of the situation. You really had no idea how the Ice Prince was going to be like. He could be ruthless. He really could kill you if you weren't fast enough. He could do anything to you.

For a while that you hiked, you mused about the other possibilities. Maybe he was just a kid, trying to get his powers in control- much like you had struggled in your early teens. Or maybe he was an old man who looked like cotton candy, all white hair and white beard- like the Santa Claus humans believe in.

Or he could be an angry old man too.

While you were snickering at the thought of the Ice Prince being a wrinkly old man, you reached the foothill of the mountain range, sighing when you looked up to the endless height all covered in a thick blanket of ice.

You sighed, clutching your necklace- a gift from your late mother which acted as a siphon, willing more heat into your body to keep yourself from freezing- it really was cold here. You noticed a group of men a few feet away, all bundled up, probably going their way up to hike too. Thinking it would be better to travel with a group rather than alone yet again, you decided to join them, stopping when a tall boy with dark hair and red streaks noticed you.

"You wanna go up the mountain?" He asked, scanning you once, and you could immediately feel his magic- something to do with water.

"Yep," you nodded, looking back at the group of men, "Are they all going?"

"We collect ice to sell, from the frozen lake. Blocks of ice," he told you, nudging you to follow him, "What's taking you up the mountains in such cold?"

"Just going to... visit a friend who lives in the north," you said casually, but he didn't miss your unintentional pause, and he didn't probe further either.

He introduced you to the old men, who laughed when you denied extra coats and mufflers from them, saying you had a 'little' affinity for fire magic and that would keep you warm.

"I hope it does, we don't want to bring your freezing corpse back," one of the men laughed.

"Uncle!" The boy- you had noticed the only young company they had- shook his head, "Don't mind him- he loves joking about death. It's how he rolls."

"I don't," you smiled, "So, what's your name?"

"Yunho," he smiled this time, and you thought he was incredibly cute for such a tall giant, "And you are?"

You told him your name, taking the stick he gave you as you started walking up, "What do you think about this never-ending winter?"

"To be honest, I'm kinda sick of it, even when business has been good lately," he smiled guiltily, eyes darting to the men as if afraid they'd hear him, "I miss summer."

"Me too," you sighed wistfully, "Even though winter was my favourite season, I'm beginning to hate it."

"I wish the Fire Princess could set his ass on fire," he snorted, making you laugh out loud, "He needs a taste of fire, this Ice Prince."

"Have you ever seen him? The Ice Prince, his name is Hongjoong, right?"

"So we've heard," Yunho said, offering you his hand as you stepped on a rock too high for you, "I haven't seen him, but he has-" he pointed to one of the men- the one with a rather aged face, he probably looked older than he actually was, "he's only seen him from afar, but he says you'd recognize him instantly."

"Because of his overwhelming magic?" You wondered.

"He lives up to his name," Yunho said, "Hair and skin as pale as snow. His eyes are... icy too."

"Oooo," you grinned, "Is he young?"

"What are you thinking?" Yunho wriggled his brows as he laughed and you shook your head, stifling your laugh, "He is probably in his 20s."

"Ah, I thought he was a... I don't know. Old man? Grumpy old ice man with a cold heart."

"That's what people usually tend to think," Yunho chuckled, "Much like the Fire Princess. People used to think she'd be a woman who'd be 'as hot as fire'. They were rather disappointed to find her only a scrawny teenager."

"And what's wrong with that? Everybody is a kid before they turn 'hot as hell'," you pouted, your voice giving away your disappointment and Yunho raised a brow.

"I suppose you have a point- I wonder where she is now. Have you ever had the chance to see or meet her?"

"Not really," you shrugged, "Have you?"

"Sadly, no," Yunho sighed wistfully, "I'd like to see her though."

"You wanna see if she is hot as hell?" You poked his arm, making him grin.

"No, I just... I have water magic, you know. Most of us have a grudge against her, you know the history," he told you, and you realized too late that you were treading on dangerous waters, literally.

"Do you think what she did was wrong?" You asked, genuinely curious.

"I don't, actually," he sighed deeply, "Our own people- the water mages were wrong. They have no right to control the flow of nature. I'm glad Wonderland was saved from the flood and destruction, but at the same time... I think it was unnecessary to make a spectacle of his death."

"Spectacle?" You gaped at him- what was he talking about?

"I heard she burned that water mage alive in front of hundreds of people," Yunho looked at you.

"Well, do you think she could have gotten away alive if she had?" You frowned, "Don't you think she would have been detained at the spot?"

"I don't know- I've heard a lot of versions of the event," Yunho admitted, "I don't know what to believe anymore."

You nodded- people had made various versions of the actual incident. And you were the last person who was going to tell them what really had happened.

After two hours of hiking, you all sat down in a circle to eat, and you lit them a fire, preventing it from burning off thanks to the strong wind at this height. They roasted chicken and vegetables on the fire, exchanging stories of their times in the mountain and you listened eagerly.

The men were a friendly bunch, you found out as you talked to them. They were pretty used to the snow since they worked in the mountains, and you learned that Yunho was one of the men's nephew, learning to adjust the temperature of his water magic- but none of them had water magic so Yunho was on his own.

"I could teach you," you offered, his eyes lighting up, "I have to control the temperature of my fire magic too- it should be the same thing."

"As much as I like the offer, is this really gonna come in handy to me?" Yunho wondered.

"Of course," you told him, "Think of the possibilities. You can extend your magic to ice and fire- you can freeze water and make vapours too- you can be the Ice Prince and Fire Princess, Yunho."

He giggled at that, making you join, "I like the sound of Fire Princess."

"I'm serious!" You laughed a bit, "Think about it- water so hot you could burn someone from the inside out- you know our bodies are one-third water."

"Why would I need to do that!" Yunho groaned, "I don't want to burn people alive!"

"You should always be prepared," your tone was grim, "You never know when someone is gonna come after you."

Yunho looked at you as you said that, a curious glint in his eyes. Just who were you? "Do you have people coming after you?"

"Fire magic is rare as it is, and in the winters it gets worse," you admitted, "Just like water magic- not rare but people take it for granted."

You travelled north along with the group until it was dark and they were tired, leading you to the cabin- you learned that there were such cabins for travellers and hikers situated every few miles, open to everyone. After a few fruits you decided to rest, tired from all the hiking you had done, your legs aching because you had never hiked such a long distance in one day.

The next morning, drinking some warm tea and eating fruits, Yunho told you that the rest of them were going to the lake only a few miles west from here.

"Are you still going north?" He asked, standing beside you as you peeked down from the height, wowing at the scene in front of you- it was winter wonderland, literally. The trees had icicles hanging from them, and everything in sight was just a beautiful shade of white.

"Yes, I don't know how long I have to go, but I have a map so I should be fine," you shrugged, and Yunho failed to stifle his smile, shaking his head as he put his hands in his pocket, and you narrowed your eyes at him, "What?"

"You do know there's nothing up north anymore, don't you?" He was grinning shamelessly now.

"Ah, is that so?" You shrugged, "I'll just explore a bit. I have to meet my friend a bit further up north."

"Hey, there's literally nothing up there. No cabins- no one is able to go further because of the blizzard. Are you sure you have a friend up there?"

You bit your lip, wishing Seonghwa was here- he would have saved your ass. You were not a good liar, opting to shut your mouth when you couldn't say the truth.

"You're going to the Ice Prince, aren't you?" Yunho was smiling.

"And why would I go to him? I haven't even seen the dude," you pouted.

"I have high suspicions of who you are, and don't try to deny it- you're a bad liar."

You pursed your lips, looking at him, "Whatever you're thinking, you're probably wrong."

"Maybe I am," he sighed, rather happy with how the situation turned out, "But you're not really denying anything either."

You looked at Yunho who was grinning in victory and you rolled your eyes, "Whatever. Yeah, I am going to see the Ice Prince and maybe I'll set his ass on fire too. Someone has to."

Yunho laughed, "Can I tag along? I'd love to see the sight."

You scanned him- he really was all positive vibes, chill and happy. You sensed no danger from him, and his presence was relaxing- something quite rare. "If you want to learn about your magic, you can tag along."

"Alright," he jumped happily, "I'm going to tell my uncle then- don't run away!"

You waved at him, sighing as you looked at the sun peeking from behind the clouds. Yunho really was different, considering he was a water mage too. He wasn't like the rest of them who were bitter towards all fire mages since the incident, and the fact that he didn't believe anything he heard about the incident said a lot about his personality.

Yunho came back with his bag and yours, taking out a muffler and wrapping it around his head and burying his nose inside too, "There's gonna be a strong blizzard up there. We'll freeze to death- unless you have a way to keep me warm. I'll probably be the only one dying- you won't let me freeze to death, will you?"

"I won't," you laughed at how his eyes searched your face, "Come on, I'll even teach you how to keep yourself warm with your own magic."

"Alright, I'll trust you on that- if you ditch me out in the cold, my uncle remembers your face- he told me to tell you that."

You saluted, grinning, "Alright, sir. Shall we?"

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

"The storm's crazy," you shook your head, Yunho close by as you hiked up the snow- it was very thick and your boots were sinking in the snow much more than before, "What the hell is up with this Hongjoong?"

"I know right," Yunho shivered a bit- even when you had created a circle of warmth around the two of you, it still didn't stop the chill from entering your body. You weren't using all your magic though, keeping as much reserved as you could manage without getting sick in the cold, "Do you think he might be... I don't know- in some sort of trouble?"

"Let's hope not," you muttered. It was unlikely. He was probably being a little bitch and testing his powers here, unaware of the magnitude of it. Or maybe he was aware and doing this on purpose-

You paused- you didn't want the incidents from 5 years ago to repeat again.

"Is something wrong?" Yunho frowned, and you opened your mouth to speak but then shut up.

"Nothing," you managed to say, motioning him to carry on walking, "Just had a thought."

"Are you... worried about what's gonna happen when you do meet him?"

"Yeah," you nodded, "This could turn out really bad, actually. Now is the time to back out, Yunho."

"I tagged along to learn about my magic, so I think I'll stick," he said and you smiled at that.

Finding a little cave, the two of you went inside, eating the lunch box the uncles had packed you two, deciding to eat less to save the food for when you'll actually need it. You warmed water for both of you, sitting in front of a fire that burned without wood- suspended in the air.

"So, how much can you do with your magic currently?"

"I can handle the water part well," Yunho told you, crossing his legs, "Bending, controlling the flow- not the best with a large amount but I can handle it okay."

You nodded- it was good enough for a normal mage, "You're not from the original bloodline, are you?"

You were referring to the greater mages, as people called them. You and Hongjoong both were from the original bloodline, hence dubbed Prince and Princess of your elements. "Do you think I'd tell you if I was?"

You made an impressed face as Yunho grinned, shaking his head, "I'm not. I'm... normal."

"Way to phrase it," you muttered, "Okay, so considering you're 'normal', that's good enough. Can you manifest water right now and burn out this fire?"

Yunho nodded, raising his hand and concentrating for a few seconds, water forming in his hand drop by drop until it swirled around his hand and he sent it to the fire which burned out with a sizzle.

"Good," you said, and the fire burned again without you moving an inch, and Yunho gaped at you, "Can you manifest your magic without movement, with a thought?"

"I thought only the greater mages could do that," he raised a brow, but you shook your head.

"Anyone who's well trained can do that. It just requires a lot of focused concentration. You can learn that too. You'll need to use your imagination- picture creating a body of water in front of you. Your hand isn't the outlet actually- it just helps you with the focusing part."

"You're making it sound easier than it is," Yunho laughed nervously, "Should I try?"

"You can, but it's gonna take some time. Just try picturing it daily until you can feel it- it's gonna require a lot of glaring in the space- which is exactly what you're doing right now."

Yunho groaned- he had been glaring daggers at the fire. You shook your head as you smiled, "You don't need to be angry to manifest it either. It'll come naturally- don't forget to practice like 8 hours a day."

"8 hours!" Yunho wailed, and you glared at him.

"Do you want me to kick you down from where we came from?"

"No ma'am," he saluted, straightening, "So what about the temperature part?"

"That's harder than manifesting your magic with a thought, so I say you get to that first."

"Can you control your fire's magic?" He asked. You put your hand in front of Yunho, a flame drawing from your index finger, "Go ahead and touch it."

Yunho frowned at you, but you shook your head, "It's not gonna burn, I promise. Go ahead."

Skeptical, he put his fingers right above the flame as if feeling for heat, but you raised your finger and let the flame make contact with his skin, Yunho drawing his hand back reflexively, but then testing it himself, touching your flame, and then you lit your hand in cold fire.

"That's... amazing- it's only a little warm- how is it possible?"

"It can be hot too- hot enough to burn my own skin," you told him, "Your magic can hurt you too- never forget that."

Yunho stared at you- his suspicions about you were turning into belief and your show of magic abilities wasn't really helping your case. "You know what? I'm gonna assume you are the Fire Princess."

"But I'm not," you smiled.

"I'm gonna assume until I actually see the Fire Princess in front of me," he smiled, "Until then, you are her."

"Do I look like a Fire Princess though?" You wondered out loud, "People assume she has fiery red hair and eyes that glow like fire-"

"You're definitely looking like the scrawny kid they talk about," Yunho snickered, making you slap his arm.

"I'm not scrawny and definitely not a kid anymore!"

"You tell yourself that," he grinned, "But I'll say... your eyes. You do know they kind of glow whenever you use your magic more?"

You gaped at Yunho- "You're not serious."

Yunho gaped back at you, "Has no one told you that?"

You shook your head no, "I just don't really use my magic much, so I guess people didn't notice. The cold fire requires more strength so that's why you must have noticed."

"Well," Yunho shifted, "My case rests. No set of eyes glow even when you use all of your magic. I guess that rumour was true after all."

You raised a brow, "What rumour?"

"The water mages remember your eyes," Yunho said, "From when you steamed all the water."

"Oh," you nodded absently, looking at Yunho and realizing a second later that you had fallen in his trap when you saw him smirking, "But I'm not the Fire Princess."

"Whatever you say," he laughed, shaking his head and you laughed a bit too. You were going to keep denying it shamelessly.

As the two of you walked further up, you couldn't believe just how easily you had shown Yunho your magic and how relaxed you were with him. You wondered if it was because he reminded you of a younger you- back when you were still learning the strengths and weaknesses of your magic, so curious about how you could control it better. The two of you engaged in small talk as you walked, helping each other whenever a tough spot came, and you found the blizzard getting stronger than before, Yunho shivering now despite your circle of warmth.

"He must be close," you wondered, looking at Yunho and finding his teeth chattering- you couldn't increase the temperature of your warmth anymore- it would require too much magic, "You should have told me you were feeling cold, Yunho. Why didn't you?"

"Didn't want to bother you," he simply said, passing a weak smile.

"I would have been bothered more if I had to deal with your frozen corpse," you muttered, "Take off your gloves."

"Are you crazy?" Yunho frowned at you, hugging himself and you rolled your eyes.

"Take it off- just this one," you pointed to his hand beside you, and as he took off his glove, you took off your own, folding your fingers in his, raising your hands as you looked at your joined hands, "You're hands are... very big."

Yunho laughed out loud, "Yours are small," he squeezed your hands, muttering 'tiny', noticing that he had stopped shivering. "Is this easier than creating that circle around us?"

"This is nothing to me," you told him, "The circle required magic- this is just my subconscious, you could say."

Yunho nodded, thanking you for not letting him freeze, and you continued following the source of the blizzard which grew so strong that you had to melt any snow that made way to your face, asking Yunho if he could lend you some power.

"Don't drain me too much," he warned, "Otherwise you'll have to deal with my corpse."

"I know how much you hold, Yunho, don't worry," you told him and he nodded, lending you as much as you wanted, until you found another cave- it was getting dark so you decided to rest.

Once again, you built a fire on which Yunho cooked some raw chicken, you wowing because he had way too may food supplies in his bag- he was probably wearing all the clothes he owned at this point. As you two ate, Yunho asked you just what you planned to do once you were face to face with the Ice Prince.

"Ask him politely to put an end to this winter and keep it to the mountains," you sipped on your tea, "I haven't thought about what to do if he denies."

"You really came without a plan, didn't you?" Yunho shook his head, "How did that friend of yours even let you go?"

"He believed I'd set the Ice Prince on fire if he denied, so maybe I should do that?" You wondered, making him laugh.

"Okay, Princess," Yunho shook his head, and you once again denied you weren't the Fire Princess. "Come on, no one else other than the Fire Princess would dare confront the Ice Prince without a plan."

"Some people are just dumb and think they can rule the world, you know," you shrugged, "maybe I'm one of them."

"Maybe you're both," Yunho pointed, and you had to acknowledge that.

When you were done eating, you took out your sleeping bags, and you stood wondering what to do with your magic- you couldn't control the fire when you were asleep. Yunho looked at you from where he sat on his bag, yours next to him.

"Sorry to inconvenience you," you finally said, "But I can't hold the fire when I'm asleep. So... the only option you have is to stay in contact with my skin to keep you warm while we sleep."

Yunho shook his head at the way you worded that, smirking a little, "How do you suggest we do that?"

"Well," you took off your sweater, leaving you in a half-sleeved T-shirt, "just hold my hand or arm as we sleep- and if I turn... I don't know, man, do whatever it takes to stay alive at this point. I don't want to deal with your frozen corpse in the morning."

Yunho laughed at that, a little nervous, "Sorry for inconveniencing you, princess, but you brought this upon yourself when you offered to teach me magic," he said as you lay down beside him, sleeping bags side by side, burning the fire out, the moonlight slowly filling the cave and giving you a little vision as your eyes adjusted to the darkness, your hands joined as you lay side by side, "You're basically a walking furnace, aren't you?"

"I am, and don't you go calling me princess," you laughed a bit, "that sounds so weird."

"That's all I'm calling you from now," he grinned, and you told him to shut up and sleep, smiling as he squeezed your hand unconsciously.

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

You, of course, woke up with Yunho hugging you as the big spoon.

And oh, he was a big ass spoon. He was basically engulfing your figure, one arm draped over your waist and over your own arm, hand on your hand, and you lazily played with his hands as you took your time to wake yourself up fully.

You couldn't help but smile at your joined hands, feeling a little giddy inside- the events really had turned out so unpredictable. You hadn't expected to make a friend out of your journey, let alone feel like a stupid giddy teenager with hormones because a guy was sleeping with you like that.

You mentally slapped yourself- this wasn't your first time sleeping with a guy, technically. You and Seonghwa had a habit of lying down on bed and gossiping until you passed out- but Seonghwa really didn't count. You decided to blame your fluttering heart to the lack of love in your life- you had a habit of driving away anyone who tried getting closer. You really didn't want anyone to know you were the Fire Princess. It would have only caused complications. Plus, the town you now lived in was small, and all the guys around your age knew you liked being alone. You hadn't gotten much action the past few years, if you were being honest.

And here you were with the man who was calling you princess, having found out your deepest secret two days in staying with you. You thanked the force above that Yunho had no filter and was honest and rational, not doubting you even when he was a water mage. He was just... different. Nice.

Yunho unconsciously tugged at you, bringing you closer and you decided it was time to wake the hell up. You tried putting his arm up and sliding away, but it was heavy- you later realized he was awake.

"Good morning to you too," Yunho scoffed.

"You're so heavy, let me go!" You groaned, making him snicker as he finally put his arm up and you lit a fire, no longer in contact with Yunho, "someone slept really well."

"I did, actually," Yunho rubbed his eyes. His cheeks were flushed- morning face, you had seen it yesterday too. It was kinda cute.

"I'm hoping to find that little brat today," you referred to the Ice Prince, "so eat up to your fill. He better prepare a feast for us when we arrive."

Yunho laughed, "What's got you in a bad mood, princess?"

"Even I'm beginning to feel cold," you sighed, "And we're running out of food. If we don't find him today we'll have to go back."

"Alright," Yunho finally got up, "Let's do that."

Eating only an apple each for breakfast and running on coffee, you turned a notch down on your siphon, allowing you to access a bit more power as you and Yunho ascended the mountain, the blizzard now in full force and you had to hold Yunho's hand not only to keep him from freezing but also for his physical strength as he led you into the eye of the storm.

"There's no way he's doing this on purpose, unless he's an evil maniac," you shouted- you really couldn't hear each other well anymore due to the strong wind, "He must be in some sort of trouble."

"I think so too!" Yunho basically dragged you up, "Is this like when you lose control of your magic? Would you set the world on fire if you did?"

"Exactly like that," you confirmed, "I once nearly burned my own self and the whole house."

Yunho grimaced, and you kept moving forward- maps were useless. You both were utterly lost and maybe doomed too. You needed to get to the Ice Prince today and see what all this fuss was about.

It had been a few more minutes of walking to the apparent source when you sensed magic- and not of a single person, but-

There were at least 10 people with ice magic and other magic here.

You tugged at Yunho's hand and when he looked at you, you motioned him to stay quiet and went behind a big rock to take cover.

"There are at least 10 mages here," you began, "can you veil your magic so they won't sense you?"

"I've never needed to do that," Yunho looked sorry, but you shook your head and told him it was okay.

"We have to deal with them anyway- I'm sure you know basic offence and defence, right?"

Which was how you ended up using Yunho as a bait.

As a water mage, he could easily pass by as someone who came for the ice and isn't affected by the blizzard because most of the water mages can control ice to some extent too.

You were in front of a building- you didn't know what else to call it, it was all steel and rocks from the outside, and it was quite huge as well, like a mini-palace of sorts, probably built this way to keep the cold away. Three men were stationed at the entrance, two a few feet ahead and Yunho strolled in, saying hi all well-mannered, saying he was passing by for ice and talking about how the storm was so bad.

You didn't have much time- Yunho was barely keeping himself together, since he was no longer in contact with you and your magic that kept you warm. You couldn't risk his life. So as soon as the men relaxed from their tense position, playing along with pretending that they knew nothing about the storm, you came in range and sent some smoke their way, making them choke hard and pass out, Yunho running to you and holding your already extended hand hastily, teeth chattering.

"This was easier than I thought," Yunho commented.

"Only because they didn't feel me, and because you're an incredible actor," you grinned at him and he grinned back. "Now let's deal with the guards at the entrance- stick with me, okay? They won't sense me."

"Okay," Yunho said and you two walked right ahead, hoping the two men wouldn't notice the absent guards towards their left, and as soon as they noticed you, they came for you, but they were out when you choked them on the very air they breathed, and Yunho stood with his mouth hanging open, shaking his head at you.

“What?” You shrugged, unaware of the source of his surprise.

“There’s absolutely no way you’re not her,” he said, narrowing his eyes at you, “No fire mage could have as much control as you- suffocating the men without burning their lungs from the inside out? Who the hell trained you if you’re not her?”

“Let’s pretend you didn’t see that,” you pursed your lips in amusement, beckoning him forward, standing in front of the steel doors where you paused before you opened them, and turning towards him. “Now is the time to back out, Yunho. I don’t know how dangerous it can get from here, and I cannot guarantee your safety though I’ll try my absolute best, but… now is the time to reconsider this.”

Yunho huffed, jumping up and down enthusiastically, shivering once because he had let go of your hand, “I’m going in there with you, whether you like it or not, simply because you’re a tiny girl and I want to protect you.”

“This tiny girl could set your ass on fire,” you muttered, smiling as you opened the door, telling him to put up a defence because you were going full offence from here.

The lobby was huge, all ice and blue and white, a chandelier hanging in the middle. You had no time to admire the beauty of the interior- men after men came, hurtling their magic at you, sending sharp icicles that could slice your skin open but they melted before they came in your focus- you had a ring of fire around the two of you, and Yunho was glad for that. He wasn’t sure if his water magic was going to be any use in front of these very skilled ice mages.

“Who the hell are you?” One of the mages muttered, and you turned to him- a rather tall man with dark hair and even darker eyes, if that was possible.

“Who do you think?” You sent a shot of fire at him, but he put up an ice shield, making you stop, “Where is the Ice Prince? Take me to him.”

“As if,” he scoffed, “You’re not taking him anywhere- who sent you? Are you here to save him or kill him?”

Save him? Were you right about this?

You heard Yunho groan and you noticed he had just deflected a sharp icicle aimed for you, and you set the man on fire, leaving him gasping for air as he burned the fire out from within, which proved your theory that these men were not under-skilled.

You raised your hands- you really had no time for this chit-chat. In a matter of seconds, all the men in your vision were gasping for air and passing out, and you put the ring of fire out from around you.

“We need to lock them and tie them good,” you muttered, and Yunho immediately started dragging the men in a corner piling them in front of you- there were 6 of them.

This was not good.

As you bit your lips, thinking, Yunho looked at you, also waiting for an explanation. You finally sighed, “We don’t have much time- we should check to see where the Ice Prince is at before we think about what to do with this lot. They’ll stay out for a while. Let’s go.”

You and Yunho made your way around, checking room after room, until Yunho found a narrow passageway that led upstairs to a tower-like structure you had managed to see a glimpse of from the outside. You took the lead, Yunho right behind you, and you noticed it was getting colder and colder- frost covered the walls in decorative patterns. You squeezed Yunho’s hand- he would freeze without you.

There was a single door, and you could instantly feel the strong presence inside, as could Yunho as he looked at you. “It’s too dangerous,” you told him, taking off your necklace- the siphon and putting it around his neck, “This should keep you warm- go downstairs while I deal with this.”

“But it’s too dangerous for you alone-“

“No buts,” you shushed him, “Trust me, I got this. Now go. I don’t want to drag your corpse out now, do I?”

Yunho smiled, trusting you and before he started to go down, you stopped him, “Do not touch the necklace’s notch. You’ll find this building on fire if you do, so be careful.”

“Oh- is this a siphon?” Yunho asked and you nodded, and he raised his brow as if to say ‘you keep proving my point’, grinning as he ran downstairs.

You breathed, turning around and touching the doorknob, melting the locks and opening the door after a moment-

You did not expect to see the Ice Prince chained to the walls, head on his knees, making himself appear smaller than he was, his silver hair- almost white- falling messily, icicles hanging from his hair-

Gosh, he was freezing himself.

You walked to him cautiously- it looked like he was unconscious. Slightly poking him, you realized that either he was, or he was out for a moment, but the sudden irrational fear crawled inside you that there was a possibility that he was only a step away from death.

“…Hongjoong?” You tried calling him but he didn’t respond, and you gently pushed his figure to the back, revealing his face-

Gosh, he was… beautiful- even when frost was covering his eyelashes and his lips were blue and frosted. You touched his face- he was freezing from the inside out, and the gauntlets on his hands didn’t help, especially since they looked like they were made to block his magic, the iron covering his hands completely, his arms falling limply to his side.

Biting your lips, you pulled at the chains- you’d had to melt them without burning them, but it was too risky. You didn’t want to burn his hands, so you only melted the chain from near the wrists and his gauntlets, freeing him from the wall, and then you lay him down, putting a hand on his forehead and sending a little spark of fire inside him- enough to start the process of waking him up from his frozen state. You took out a kerchief, wiping his eyes as the frost on his eyelashes melted, then wiping his face as colour seeped through his skin, and you realized he wasn’t as pale as you thought he’d be.

The room was still ice-cold, making your breath materialise in the air, so you decided to start with putting the temperature of the room down, getting up and walking to the window as you started to melt the ice-

You didn’t even hear him wake up from his sleep and you only turned when it was too late-

He was upon you and pushed you, making you instinctively hold on to him as the window shattered and you two were then hurtling out to your death- your screams ringing in the air as he tried to choke you, realizing his hands were still blocked.

You only had time to scream, “I’m here to save you, you fucker!” before Hongjoong’s eyes changed, and he put his blocked hand out, making an icy slide to save you from breaking your head open on the rock (or save himself, probably, because he had plans to kill you) and then you two were rolling down on the soft snow, halting slowly and you coughed, spitting ice out from your mouth, finding Hongjoong on top of you, pinning your hands down.

“Who sent you?” He practically growled, his icy blue eyes burning you.

“I came to save you, you idiot,” you groaned, kicking him on the stomach and pushing him off, sending him moaning in pain loudly as he clutched at his stomach- he was probably weak right now, “I came to end this never-ending winter and see what got your icy ass in trouble, and you- you decide to push me out of that freaking tower?”

“Then why are my hands still inside this?” He put them in the air as if proving a point, and you rolled your eyes.

“I’m a fire mage, for fuck’s sake. I could burn the flesh off your hands if I tried breaking that. You’d like that, I’m sure.”

He stared at you for a moment, the icy wind circling around you two as you realized you were in the eye of the storm, and you raised your brows impatiently. He sighed, “How do I get this thing out?”

“I don’t know, man, try breaking it,” you groaned, getting up and squealing in pain as you saw the shards buried in your arms, “I’m gonna kill you later.”

He said nothing, and you shook your head because the only shard of broken glass he had gotten was on his cheek, sending blood trickling down, already frozen to his skin.

Yunho came outside, calling your name and Hongjoong instinctively sent a bolt of ice in his direction, which you melted before it could cut him, glaring daggers at him. “That’s my friend, you idiot. We mean no harm. Stop acting like a brat while we figure this out."

Hongjoong only sighed, bringing his knees to his chest again as Yunho rushed to you, examining your hurt state, glaring at Hongjoong. “I have healing magic- let me try healing your arms."

You nodded- most water mages had an affinity for healing. Yunho pulled the pointy shards out of your skin, healing them with a swipe of his finger over the open wound. By the time he was done you were seething in pain and anger, dimming it down a notch when you saw the guilty look in Hongjoong’s eyes.

“You gonna tell me why you were locked in that tower?” You asked, and Hongjoong sighed.

“Where are the ice mages?”

“Out cold, but not for too long,” you said.

“They planned to kill me, but I am too powerful, so they were trying to weaken me before getting rid of me.”

“You in your weakened state have put the entire land in eternal winter,” you muttered.

“I’m sure you like the cold,” Hongjoong raised his brow, “Fire Princess.”

Yunho met your eyes, and you pursed your lips- no point denying it now, really. “I may like the cold but it got too much for everyone, Hongjoong. And you…. You were freezing from the inside. You do know that you were only a step away from death, don’t you?”

Hongjoong’s eyes flashed, and you realized that he had no idea, “You really mean me no harm?”

“Unless you try to kill me or my friend here, no, I mean no harm.”

Hongjoong sighed, getting up, “We should lock the men first. Do not underestimate their skills. We can get to this…” he looked at his shackled hands, “later.”

With that, the three of you went inside, Yunho dragging them to the nearest room and you helping while Hongjoong watched, and when they all were in the same room, Hongjoong looked at the ceiling, drawing sharp icicles down and trapping them such that they couldn’t move without hurting themselves or killing themselves, and you whistled- he wasn’t joking around.

“Now,” Hongjoong said as the three of you went to the lobby, “How do you suggest I get rid of these?”

You thought for a minute, “Try freezing them and breaking them?”

“You could try melting them,” Yunho suggested.

“It’s too risky, I’d burn him,” you bit your lips, but Yunho was shaking his head.

“If you can suffocate the men without burning their lungs, you can surely try breaking this without melting him too.”

Hongjoong raised a brow at that, but you shook your head. It was too risky.

“What if,” Hongjoong began, “You melt from the outside and I freeze from the inside? It’s gonna break it, right?”

“Technically, it should, but don’t blame me if I burn you,” you put your hands in the air and Hongjoong only shrugged to give you an okay.

Taking his imprisoned hands, you looked at him, finding his eyes glowing as he focused on controlling the amount of magic he sent, and you realized your eyes must be glowing too- did they glow like fire? You shut your eyes, focusing on feeling your magic, stopping when you felt the ice of Hongjoong’s and working backwards from there, until the iron started crumbling in your hands.

Hongjoong flexed his hands, making an impressed face at you, “Thank you, I guess.”

“You guess?” You sighed, but smiled. He must have been through a lot for him to be like this- so distrustful of everyone.

“Make yourself at home,” Hongjoong offered.

“Don’t tell me this is your home,” you frowned.

“It has to be,” Yunho smiled, “I mean, look at that,” he pointed at the chandelier, and you noticed that it was made of ice- blue flame glowing in the middle that could only be the flame of ice rather than of fire.

“You live alone, and these- people, they came for you, why?” You looked at him, “Also if this is your home I’m expecting there is food here because I am famished.”

Hongjoong scoffed, leading you to the kitchen, groaning at the mess the men had made of his home, “Has no one come for you yet? I mean, you are the Fire Princess. You don’t pretend to be someone else, do you?”

You looked guiltily as Yunho who grinned, “And what if I do? Should I have built myself a fire palace and set the whole land on fire?”

Hongjoong winced, “I did not sent the blizzard on this land on purpose, Princess. You must know. And you still haven’t answered my question.”

Hongjoong put some fruits on the table and you and Yunho took the frozen fruits, you touching them lightly to make them normal before you started eating the strawberries and the grapes, “No one except the water mages come after me- you know because of what happened 5 years ago. But I’ve been living in peace for quite a while now.”

Hongjoong looked suspiciously at Yunho- after all, he was a water mage too. “You won’t be in peace for longer. There’s been a… movement going on, you could say. They’re planning to get rid of the original bloodlines. They’ve already killed my uncle, who was the only remaining member of the original family apart from me here in Wonderland. Do you have someone in your family?”

“Well, they all died 4 years ago- just how long has the movement been going on?” You frowned- your parents had died a rather suspicious death. You had tried finding out more but you had no idea and found no clue.

“Long enough,” Hongjoong said, as if to tell you that your family’s death might have to do something with that, “The other originals have all left this land for the fear of their life. It’s only you and me now, Princess.”

You rolled your eyes at how he called you princess- as if he was being sarcastic, nothing like the endearing way Yunho called you. “What do you suggest then, Prince? If they got you, they could get me too.”

“Well, lucky for you, there are only a few fire mages around here. Their plan was to fight ice with ice, fire with fire, you know the deal. But they’ll come after me- these were only a few men. The rest are coming soon, so we should get the hell away from here as soon as possible.”

“And go where? With you looking like… this,” you scanned him, and he raised his arms.

“Me looking like what?”

“Like the Ice Prince,” you looked at Yunho, “Tell me someone will look at him and not make the connection right away.”

“She’s right,” Yunho said, “You look like the Ice Prince. Your hair and eyes kind of give you away.”

“So?” Hongjoong pointed at you, “Her eyes turn amber and glow when she uses her magic!”

“But she could pass as a normal fire mage, you, on the other hand… it’s gonna be hard.”

Hongjoong groaned and you looked at Yunho in amusement, “I’m so glad I look normal enough.”

“Well,” Hongjoong put a cherry in his mouth, “Is there somewhere we can go and lay low for a while?”

You noticed how Hongjoong had casually joined your gang and was going to follow you wherever you go. You looked at Yunho, “Why am I so tempted to ditch him here?”

“Hey!” Hongjoong looked offended, “Fine, I can go my way. Don’t come crawling to me when they come after you!”

“Crawling?” You scoffed, “You don’t come crawling to me when they get you again! Oh wait- you won’t be able to. You’d just set the whole world on ice and hibernate.”

Yunho snorted, failing to hold his laugh as the two of you bickered back and forth, finally getting up and stopping you two from jabbing fingers at each other’s faces. “Okay, okay, stop. We go together from here- it’s better to stick together.”

“You’re not the Water Prince, are you?” Hongjoong eyed Yunho suspiciously.

“I’m not,” Yunho raised his hands, and Hongjoong eyed the necklace he was wearing, making Yunho look at you and take the necklace off.

“I almost forgot,” you breathed, putting the necklace around yourself, you had been warming the room subconsciously anyway, “Anyways, we should definitely leave this place. As much as I hate it, the only place I got is where I live right now, so… let’s go there and plan from there. And Hongjoong? Please try putting this blizzard out if you can help it. But take it down bit by bit- I don’t want anyone to be suspicious of you.”

Hongjoong nodded- he could do that.

Packing food for the journey and asking Hongjoong to cover himself like a normal man who gets cold, the three of you left the house, Hongjoong icing the door shut and sending a mini blizzard around the house for precautionary measures.

You and Yunho naturally took the lead, Hongjoong following close by as you discussed which route to take.

"Should we drop by the site?" Yunho asked, mentioning the cabins where the men who had accompanied you up would be, "We could get a hot meal definitely."

"Let's do that, I'm starting to abhor the idea of more fruits," you muttered.

"Won't it be too suspicious if I drop by?" Hongjoong almost mumbled as if he didn't really want you to hear that, but you did, and you pursed your lips.

"Just blend in, can you? If anyone asks, your name is... Jongho. Can you do that?"

"I don't know about the 'blending in' part," Hongjoong shrugged and you glared at him.

"That is the least you can do for all of us."

"Now don't you go giving me shit about my appearance. You should have been born with hair the colour of fire. You'd know how it'd feel to stick out like a sore thumb then."

You glared at him, "I'm not giving you shit about your appearance, Prince. All I'm asking of you is to act friendly when you meet anyone and try to keep a low profile. Not so hard, is it?"

"It is, Princess, because everyone seems to recognize me no matter how hard I try to stay low. I'm sure you of all people know how that feels."

"Now, now," Yunho stepped in between you two, patting your back to calm you down, "Those men won't say a word if I ask them to."

"They better not," Hongjoong only kept glaring at you and you made a face when you had enough, making him snort, "So very charming."

"I wonder what's keeping me from setting your smartass on fire," you sighed.

"I'd like to see you try, Princess. Let's see whose fire burns more," Hongjoong's eyes glowed, and Yunho waved his hands awkwardly between you two.

"I'm changing the topic. So where are we going?" Yunho asked you.

"I live south, near the sea," you smiled a bit when you thought of home, "I own a bookstore café. Try not to ruin the warm atmosphere of that place when I take you there, will you, Prince?"

He only snorted, ignoring you, and you continued, "I have a friend who practically lives there. I think you and him will get along well."

"Me and him?" Hongjoong frowned, "and why do you think so?"

"You'll see when we get there," you smirked, and Hongjoong straightened as if to say no force on this Earth could do so.

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

You could barely keep your laughter in when you saw Hongjoong obeying Seonghwa- it wasn't that Seonghwa was ordering him around, but when he'd give him a simple task like 'hand me that', or 'get me that from outside', Hongjoong would find himself doing the task without complaining.

You supposed the poor boy had been alone long enough and found something comforting about Seonghwa- everybody seemed to. There was just something about Seonghwa's nature that was so caring and motherly that everyone found themselves comforted by his presence.

You recalled when Hongjoong had challenged you when you'd said he'd get along well with Seonghwa. He'd been so persistent on not getting along with you, at least. Even Yunho and him would share a giggle over jokes every now and then, but you?

You wondered if Hongjoong hated you. Sometimes he'd listen to what you said, but sometimes he'd act like a... brat and spoil your mood. You wonder if he annoyed you on purpose.

He had definitely annoyed you all the way down from that damned mountains of the north. He had failed to keep a low profile in the cabin and Yunho had to ask the uncles to keep their secret because of the threat on your heads, which had led them to make the connection about you too. Though they were impressed and maybe a little intimidated by the presence of two of the originals, they had treated you two well, giving you warm meals and a place to sleep as a thanks for keeping them all warm during your trip up.

You had made it back without much happening, and when you entered your home with the two boys, Seonghwa's jaw had dropped.

"So which one of them is your boyfriend?" Was the first thing that Seonghwa had asked and the two had immediately burst into laughter and groans while you had scolded Seonghwa and told him all about what happened as he made you all coffee and gave you something to eat.

"So he's the Ice Prince," Seonghwa smiled, "Nice to meet you. You look younger than I thought."

"And how old did you think I'd be?" Hongjoong out one leg over the other.

"I don't know- I used to think my age- I guess you are. But she-" he pointed at you, "used to imagine a wrinkly old man, so my ideas mixed a bit..."

"Wow," Hongjoong shook his head at you, "I don't remember thinking of the Fire Princess as a wrinkly old hag."

"I don't remember thinking of the Fire Princess as a scrawny kid, but here we are," Yunho sighed and you yelled at the two, tempted to throw your dessert at them but Seonghwa calmed you down with a touch, and you only huffed.

Seonghwa had told stories about your pasts, especially embarrassing stories about how you'd set everything you touched on fire when you were recovering from the incident 5 years ago, having a laugh over it as he showed off his burns that he got from you proudly.

"These are friendship marks," Seonghwa showed them off as if it was a badge. You rolled your eyes as the others shook their head at you, disappointed.

"I should have friendship marks too," you muttered, feeling sorry for Seonghwa. He had refused to let go of the scars even though he could have gotten them healed, saying it was a reminder that you got through the hard times with him, and your own burns, which Seonghwa didn't mention because they were too personal, were a reminder of that. Seonghwa looked at you pointedly as if to remind you of your own burns, and Hongjoong didn't miss that look.

You had two rooms in your house at the back of the bookstore, so the guys decided to share the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts in your room, the smaller of the two with a queen sized bed and a table at one end, not much to the room.

The next day was busy for you- you had to go out in the town for supplies and to catch up on the gossip which would reveal if Hongjoong was right about this uprising- if you could call it that- and see if people were suspicious about your guests.

When you came back, Seonghwa had already prepared a meal for the four of you, and you instantly slumped in the chair, telling Seonghwa about how your day was, and Hongjoong watched you two interact with curiosity- the way you and Seonghwa rolled was too smooth and natural. Even Yunho fit right in and he sometimes felt like an outsider.

After eating, Seonghwa was instructing Hongjoong to pick up the dishes and telling him where to put what, which was why you were holding back your amusement. They really got along well, and you were glad, though you could feel Hongjoong still felt awkward.

You and Hongjoong were still arguing with each other every moment you had a chance, calling each other prince and princess like it was a curse word, and though Yunho and Seonghwa would try to calm you down, they decided to team up and enjoy watching you bicker back and forth instead as they sipped on their drinks.

"You set your own hair on fire!" Hongjoong laughed as he recalled a story Seonghwa had told him, "Is this why your hair is so dark but looks like rust in the sunlight?"

"Says the person who put on frost mascara," you raised a brow, "I should have plucked your unbelievably pretty lashes when I had the chance."

"At least you acknowledge they're pretty, Princess," Hongjoong smirked.

"Crazy how the only thing remotely pretty about you are your lashes, but your ugly personality is just so overpowering that I only noticed your lashes when you were almost dead. Now what does that say about you?"

Yunho hooted, Seonghwa giving him a clap saying 'that's my girl', and Hongjoong clenched his jaw.

"I don't know if you're trying to flirt with me or fight with me," Hongjoong muttered, and you pretended to throw up.

"Flirt with you? I'd rather set my own self on fire, Prince."

"Would you now?" Hongjoong leaned in a bit, "Interesting."

"What is your problem?" You leaned in as if trying to figure him out, "Do you want me to hate you? Because you're doing a damn good job."

"You're really the Princess of Fire, aren't you?" Hongjoong smirked, "It's just so easy to get you all hot and angry, it's tempting, really."

"And you really are the Prince of Ice, aren't you?" You leaned back, "Should I melt that frozen heart of yours?"

"You're really bad at this," Seonghwa ended up laughing painfully, making all of you laugh with him, "I really can't tell if you're fighting or flirting anymore."

"I can't either," Yunho wiped his eyes from laughing too hard, "She really sucks at this."

Hongjoong danced in his seat in victory, but Seonghwa shook his head at him, "Your retorts are too weak, Hongjoong. You both are unbelievable."

"Hey!" Hongjoong yelled at him, "At least I'm not the one subtly flirting!"

"I'm not flirting!" You glared at him, the fire in the fireplace catching intensity, "You know perfectly well what I meant!"

"Yeah, go ahead, melt my frozen heart, Princess," Hongjoong grinned, pausing when your eyes glowed, and Seonghwa realized what was happening, instantly rushing to you and putting his hand on your shoulder but shrieking in pain because you were burning.

You hadn't meant to lose control, but something about Hongjoong... and the way he worded that- it reminded you of a particular incident from 5 years ago when you had that fight with the Water Prince, and you were triggered- you were feeling so hot. You were burning from the inside.

"Yunho- can you bring cold water, quick!" Seonghwa's eyes were wide with worry, and Hongjoong looked at Seonghwa in confusion and worry, then looked at you with your eyes glowing and hair rising as smoke seeped out from your skin, making you get up and fall on your knees on the floor.

Seonghwa noticed the guilt behind Hongjoong's eyes, "It's not you, Hongjoong. She went through something in the past- sometimes she gets triggered and this happens."

"Is there something I can do? She's burning from the inside, isn't she?"

Yunho came inside with a bucket of cold water and Seonghwa placed it in front of you, using his shadow-phantom hands to place your hands inside the water but it instantly evaporated, and before one of them could get up and get more, Hongjoong leaned in front of you, motioning to Seonghwa that it was okay.

"Hey," Hongjoong said softly, calling your name- you could hear him call your name but it felt as light as a whisper because of the roaring in your ear and the pain in your chest- you couldn't breathe. Hongjoong tried taking your hand but you shook your face absently as you flinched away, trying to tell him to be careful, but he took your searing hot hands anyway, and you reveled in how cold they were.

"It's okay, you can't burn me," Hongjoong whispered, taking your other hand as well and sending the cold inside your skin bit by bit, until you started to shiver and then fell unconscious on his lap.

"Well," Seonghwa wowed, "This definitely saved me from dragging her out and burying her in the snow and worrying my ass off for hours until she got okay."

Yunho winced as he heard that, "That bad?"

Seonghwa nodded, taking your limp figure in his arms, "Let's get her upstairs."

Hongjoong and Yunho followed, opening the door to your room and he lay you on the bed, spreading your blanket over you, checking to see if your necklace was okay. The other two looked around your room, finding it strangely empty as if no one lived here, only a few of your belongings in sight.

"She doesn't like getting attached to a place," Seonghwa explained, "she won't admit it but she's gotten very attached to her café."

"I can see why," Yunho nodded, "she practically lives there. This is only for sleeping, isn't it?"

"Pretty much," he smiled, "Let's go to sleep- it's late. She'll be out cold for a while too."

Hongjoong couldn't really sleep that night- he kept recalling how your eyes changed and you went in that trance, and something about it reminded him of when he was first caught and had given up, hence setting this never ending winter in motion.

Feeling a bit stuffy, Hongjoong decided to go out and get some air, wearing snow boots if he changed his mind for a walk, almost screaming when he shut the door, took a turn and saw you sitting in the snow with your knees drawn to your chest and bare feet and legs buried in the snow.

"Gosh, you scared me," Hongjoong muttered and scared you, making you flush because you hadn't expected to get caught sitting here like this. He sat beside you, "Are you... okay?"

"I am... I don't know," you looked away from him, "I still feel like I am on fire."

Hongjoong touched your hand to check- you weren't completely normal, you were still hot as if you were running a fever. "Do you always come and sit in the snow like this?"

"Seonghwa buries me in the snow or puts me in the tub and piles ice on me," you muttered, finding yourself laughing a bit at that and Hongjoong joined, "Usually does the trick, as stupid as it sounds."

"How long have you been out here?"

"An hour or more," you admitted, and Hongjoong shook his head.

"Let me..." he looked at you for permission and you nodded. He took your hand, interlacing his fingers with you, staring at your joined hands. "Does the siphon not work properly?"

"It does, it's just... the fire magic is too much for me. I feel like I wasn't build to handle it."

"You're built for the fire magic," Hongjoong assured you, "You have to embrace it. I don't wear a siphon- they did no good at keeping my own magic in control."

"Well," you scoffed, "You almost froze yourself too."

"I was trapped, of course I did. I felt helpless. But you... I won't ask what happened unless you want to tell me, but whatever happened... don't hate your magic because of that."

You stared at him, his eyes almost dark blue as tendrils of his hair fell over them. "Have you ever hated yours?"

"More times than I'll admit," he sighed, "with people like us... our relationship with magic really is a love-hate one, isn't it?"

You smiled as you nodded, already feeling better as you felt your body getting cooler, "It is. I think this winter was the first time I felt my magic was a blessing."

Hongjoong nodded- Seonghwa had mentioned something about how you were secretly making the fire in all the fireplaces in the town warmer, "I guess something good did come out of all this. But can I ask you something?"

You looked at him and he hesitated a bit before asking, "You could have left me to die. There was no reason for you to save me."

You heard the question behind that statement good and clear. You squeezed his hand, "You reminded me of myself. Nobody should have to die like that, all alone engulfed by their own magic. I knew the risk- I knew you could be a madman who was having fun with this winter, but even if you were, I couldn't leave anyone like that."

Hongjoong nodded, but it still didn't make sense to him. Were you just being kind? What was your reason? You laughed as you saw his confused state, "I didn't need a reason to save you, Hongjoong, it's as simple as that."

Hongjoong smiled not at your answer but because it was perhaps the first time you had called him by his name and not a sarcastic spat of his nickname 'prince'. As if you had heard his thoughts, you surprised him by saying, "Don't let it get to you, Prince."

Hongjoong laughed out loud for the first time in a while, and you smiled at how endearing and lively his laugh was.

"You know you sound better when you're laughing and not being an ass," you commented.

"Don't get used to it, Princess," he raised a brow at you and you rolled your eyes.

You didn't take your hand away from each other even when the both of you knew that there was no need to keep holding them anymore.

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

If you had thought that last night's interaction was going to shift your hot-and-cold relation with Hongjoong, you were very wrong because the two of you were back to nonsensical bickering as if last night hadn't happened at all.

"Why would you waste your energy on boiling water again and again when all you could do was touch it!" Hongjoong threw his hands in the air, "Tell me, Yunho, how does this make sense?"

Yunho looked at you as if to ask you for your explanation, and you began, "Not everyone flaunts their magic at every opportunity, you cold piece of shit who sends blizzards out just for the heck of it."

Yunho snorted, "But he didn't do that on purpose?"

"I'm not talking about this time, I've seen enough random blizzards to know which were natural and which weren't," you glared at Hongjoong as if to prove your point, who didn't say anything because you were right, and then you turned to Yunho, "And you! Whose side are you on!"

"No one's," Yunho laughed, clearly enjoying this, "Was just asking, calm down."

"You're telling her to calm down? That's like asking fire not to burn you," Hongjoong muttered.

"Shut up and come for lunch," Seonghwa called and the three of you immediately got up, joining Seonghwa at the table, and Yunho commented on how Seonghwa was basically the mother of this house.

"I am, and what about it?" Seonghwa grinned proudly, making even Hongjoong smile.

"He loves doing this," you dig into the bowl of rice, "you should see him clean this place, he cleans as if-"

"I'm gonna have to stop you there," Seonghwa warned you and you immediately shut up, "Anyways, Hongjoong, can you tell me more about the people who are rebelling against the original bloodline? Because I think I have something to tell you guys."

"What is it?" You asked, but Hongjoong began.

"There are a very few originals and most of them have left this land to blend in with the humans, which I believe is because they got wind of the uprising, if you can call it that," Hongjoong glanced at you, "She and I are currently the only ones remaining, and since she... killed the Prince of Water-"

"But she did not kill the Prince of Water," Seonghwa said as if he was stating the obvious, and both Hongjoong and Yunho looked at you, Yunho more in surprise and Hongjoong more in amusement.

"Is that what she told you?" Hongjoong raised a brow, and Seonghwa put his chopstick down a bit too furiously, glaring at Hongjoong.

"I am an eye-witness, and if you do not believe this, you can get out of this house right now."

"Seonghwa, there's no need-"

Seonghwa only raised his hand, looking at Yunho and Hongjoong as if daring them to challenge his statement, and Hongjoong stared between you and Seonghwa back and forth as you said, "I told you, Seonghwa, that there is no need to keep defending me. I may not have killed the Prince but he died because of me-"

"He did not," Seonghwa glared at you this time, shutting you up- you two had argued enough about this already, "So?"

"I believe you," Yunho said and you looked at him in surprise, "If you had really killed him and made a 'spectacle' out of it, you would have killed me or Hongjoong too. You're far too kind and nice to have done that."

You felt the sudden urge to hug Yunho but instead found yourself waiting for Hongjoong's answer, and his icy blue eyes scanned you, "I mean... if you say so. Just saying what I heard."

"Well, I hope you get your facts straight," Seonghwa smiled as if nothing had happened and urged Hongjoong to continue, which he did hesitantly, "So the Prince of Water is dead... right?" You nodded, "That leaves only the two of us, as far as I know. I don't know how they haven't found you yet, but they got to me first- they have been after me for quite a while now. I just thought it was petty revenge or something at first but I heard the gossips, I heard them talk, so I know that it's a thing now."

"But what are they going to get from getting rid of us?" You frowned, "I mean, it's not like we're ruling this land or taking over their properties or something. We're just... kids, trying to live a normal life."

"That's what you and I know, and that's what people who know us know," Hongjoong looked at Yunho and Seonghwa, "But if I have to blame someone, I have to blame the Prince of Water. He strengthened the belief that the original bloodline thinks of themselves as superior and wants to change the flow of nature and whatnot. You know all that he did, don't you?"

Yunho nodded, "Most of the water mages weren't on his side, but when he started threatening his own kind... there was nothing we could do. And only the people close to the Prince know of how things got bad to the extent that the Princess of Fire had to intervene and put a stop to this, but that only enraged them, mostly because they thought that as water mages, they should have been the one to stop him, and because they suspected her intentions, that she was going to follow in his footsteps."

"That makes sense..." you nodded as you tried to digest all the information.

"What I don't understand is," Yunho began, shifting so he was facing you, "Why you weren't denying the rumours. What really happened that day, princess?"

Hongjoong raised a brow at how he'd called you princess- Yunho hadn't called you that much since you'd arrive here- hadn't been too long so you didn't feel awkward about it, but even Seonghwa smiled at the contrast between Yunho's and Hongjoong's way of calling you princess.

You pursed your lips, looking at Seonghwa- would they believe you? Seonghwa nodded- you knew he was urging you to try, and whether they believed you or not would say a lot about them and where you all stood.

But that's what you were afraid of. Yunho was your friend, and you knew it would hurt if he didn't believe you. Even Hongjoong, who was a little shit if you could sum it up, was something like a friend now and you cared about what they thought of you.

"It was my father- he told me to put an end to all this. He was sick- he had a leg problem so he couldn't go out and solve this feud with the Prince of Water. Apparently our fathers went way back. Anyways, I didn't expect things to spiral out of control- it started with a normal conversation with the water mages, some of my friends including Seonghwa with me. But then... it was like he was possessed. He started fighting with his own friends and it got physical, and then he took off his siphon and lost control. His mother had air magic so she tried to change the direction of the incoming flood but it was no use- she asked me to step in."

You sighed as you recalled the events, a shiver running down your spine, "I made the hurricane evaporate before it could touch the land, but somehow... it burned the Prince too."

"What do you mean?" Yunho frowned.

"Make a water ball," you asked Yunho, and he raised his hand in the air, making a water ball swirl in the air, and you sent fire for it, making it evaporate.

"It didn't hurt you, right?" You asked, and Yunho nodded, "But somehow, it burned the Prince. I didn't even realize- I turned and he was burning as if I'd set him on fire."

"But that's... impossible," Hongjoong frowned, "There's no way that could have happened."

"I saw it," Seonghwa looked grim, "I know she was only focusing on the flood- I could feel her magic better than anyone else since I'm familiar with it. But the Water Prince... I have suspicions that she was framed. That this was all a grand scheme to frame the Fire Princess but I was always confused because why would they need to do that?"

"Until you heard about the uprising," Yunho finished.

Seonghwa nodded, "I heard gossips too- even though I didn't tell you," he looked at you, "but it seemed too far fetched of an idea. But what Hongjoong went through, trapped for months... while you were gone, a few men came in this town asking if there was a fire mage here. I asked them what made them think so, and they said the fire is warmer than normal fire."

"And only a fire mage could have felt that," you narrowed your eyes as you leaned forward and tried to connect everything, "do you think even fire mages are in league with the uprising?"

"Mages of all kinds," Hongjoong assured you, "In fact, the ice mages were going to fetch a fire mage to end me, which was why I attacked you when I gained consciousness."

"I still don't hear you apologizing about it, you ass."

"Why should I? It was defence."

"It's called defence when someone attacks you in the first place!" You looked at him with disbelief in your eyes as he grinned shamelessly, throwing a little spark of fire for him which he caught between his fingers and turned to a snowflake, sticking his tongue out at you.

"You kids," Seonghwa shook his head, "Maybe the men came to fetch you to be the fire mage that ends Hongjoong, since they wouldn't have known that you were also the other original they needed to end."

"Plausible," Yunho commented, "Which means they'll be back."

Silence fell as you all thought about it, "Should we be prepared?"

You looked at Yunho, "I don't know. Should we?"

"It would be wise to prepare- you don't want to go through what I went through," Hongjoong looked at you, "it's not like you can hibernate yourself. Or would you turn yourself toast?"

You turned to him haughtily, "Do not test me, Prince."

"Hongjoong," Seonghwa warned, shaking his head, and Hongjoong was about to protest but he realized why Seonghwa was shaking his head- something about him taunting your magic would trigger you again, which led him to think just what had you gone through again.

"Anyways," Yunho got up, feeling the thick tension in the air, "We have two originals here, so we're better and stronger than anyone who comes. We just have to be careful and watch our backs for now, don't we?"

Seonghwa nodded and you got up as well, "I need to go to the market. Does anyone wanna come?"

Both Yunho and Hongjoong raised their hands and you folded your arms as you looked at Hongjoong, "Give me one solid reason why I should let you accompany me."

"And why aren't you asking Yunho?" Hongjoong narrowed his eyes at you.

"Because he won't be a pain in my ass during the short trip, Prince," you told him and Yunho did a silly dance to further spice it up between you two.

"I'll be on my best behaviour," Hongjoong promised.

You should have known he meant it sarcastically.

"You eat mint-choco?" Hongjoong made the most disgusted face he could muster as you were picking out ice-cream flavours.

"You're literally eating a rainbow ice-cream, you kid," you snorted.

"At least I'm not eating toothpaste flavoured ice-cream."

Yunho almost choked on his own ice-cream as he heard that, "You both should have settled on cookies and cream. Can you two let each other live?"

You both smiled as if you were enjoying this, and Yunho rolled his eyes, muttering 'get a room'. You picked another rainbow ice-cream.

"Ha, are you finally trying it?"

"It's for Seonghwa," you told him, and he gaped at you.

"Seonghwa's not a kid for eating rainbow ice-cream but I am?"

"He gets to be a kid sometimes because he's not being one 24/7," you looked at him pointedly, and Yunho laughed out loud.

"You guys are getting better at this!" Yunho clapped, "Definitely better than 'should I melt your frozen heart'- ow!"

You made Yunho shut up as you pinched his arm, noticing Hongjoong's attention elsewhere, following his eyes to see he was staring at the kids playing in the snow outside.

"I'll wait outside while you get the rest done," Hongjoong told you both and you nodded, taking Yunho with you as you walked down the aisles and Yunho read the grocery list Seonghwa had made.

You were utterly surprised, to put it simply, to find Hongjoong playing with the little kids and having a snowball fight when you went outside after the two of you finished shopping.

"I did not expect him to get along with kids," Yunho muttered, sharing your disbelief of the situation.

"He's literally cheating in the snowball fight," you laughed as you noticed how he was only pretending to make snowballs when in reality he had them ready in a matter of seconds.

You watched him laugh out loud as he ran from the attacks, throwing snow at the kids and running around, saving a little girl who must be on his team, stopping when he noticed you and getting hit with a snowball in the process, making the kids yell in victory.

"Are you done?" Hongjoong asked.

You nodded, waving the bags in the air, "Should we all have a snowball fight?"

Hongjoong smirked, and you made 3 teams, the kids joining you- but really...

This was war.

You were melting any attack that came for you, as was Yunho. Hongjoong's snowballs were turning into ice-balls now, hard ice balls and you yelled at him.

"You'll hurt us!" You glared at him, making a snowball and wrapping it in cold flame, "Have a taste of this!"

"You can't win against me, Princess," Hongjoong only waved a hand to deflect it, "I'd be surprised if you win against Yunho-"

Which was when Yunho sent a snowball for Hongjoong's face and it hit home, making you howl in victory.

"You!" Hongjoong laughed, sending a giant snowball for Yunho, "Have a taste of this!"

Yunho laughed, falling on his butt on the soft snow as he let the snow ball fall on him, popping out of it like a snowman, making the kids watching laugh and run to him as they shaped the snow.

"Kids!" You clapped your hand, grabbing their attention, "This guy here can make really good snowmen!"

The kids immediately ran for Hongjoong who rolled his eyes, Yunho thanking you as he got out of the snow, shivering. The two of you sat on a bench recovering from the cold while Hongjoong really did make the best snowmen of every sizes and shapes, teaching the kids how to.

You watched Hongjoong with mundane curiosity- it was like a veil had shed from his personality, revealing a simple person who enjoyed playing with the kids in the snow and laughed without a worry in this world. It made you wonder just who Hongjoong was- not the ice prince but simply Hongjoong.

Though you had only met a while ago, there was something comforting about the way you all clicked and though you'd never say it out loud, there was also something comforting about the nonstop bickering between Hongjoong and you. It was a nice change in your home- the café, because Seonghwa and you were the type to mostly stay silent and busy yourself with your own work. Having new friends certainly lifted up the mood.

Even the customers in your café liked Yunho- you supposed he was the type to make place in everyone's heart. Yunho had been helping around more in the mornings, mostly serving. Hongjoong was always hiding somewhere in the bookstore, and sometimes you'd catch him have a little conversation about books with someone who came to stop by.

Hongjoong noticed you hadn't commented on his behaviour since you guys had left the store, and he wondered whether it was because you were surprised (he hoped in a good way) or because you simply weren't interested and had nothing to say.

But his lips curled in a smile when you later sat with him late at night drinking coffee in front of the fireplace while Yunho and Seonghwa went out for a walk, and finally commented on it.

"You look like you had fun earlier," you said, keeping your voice neutral.

"I had," Hongjoong smiled, gazing at the fire, "it's been long since I had that kind of fun."

"What?" You laughed a bit, "You're telling me that you have ice magic but you didn't go around playing with the snow and making someone slip in the snow?"

Hongjoong looked at you, amused, "What do you think my life was like before everything happened? Do you think I owned an ice-cream truck and went around town?"

"You're seriously telling me you never made someone slip in the snow when they annoyed you?" You looked at him in disbelief.

Hongjoong held your stare but then gave in, "Okay, maybe once, maybe twice. I stayed low mostly. It's not like you used to go around setting people on fire, did you?"

"Not much fun you can have playing with fire," you nodded grimly, "But ice, man! If I had your magic I'd have a little snowman accompany me everywhere I go."

"Which would speak for how lonely you are," Hongjoong retorted, "Speaking about that, is Seonghwa the only friend you have?"

"And what about it?" You frowned, "You like him, don't you?"

"I do, it's just... how did you get here?" Hongjoong looked around, "I mean... how come you, of all people, run a bookstore café with their childhood friend?"

"That sounds like a backhanded insult, but I'll ignore that," you said and Hongjoong smirked, "We used to live in the same town, until that incident happened. Things got too much for me, every water mage was after me, and then some. I had to leave town, my family came with me. It was only mom and dad anyway. We settled in a nearby town, but then they passed away in an accident. I went back to Seonghwa, since he was the only family I had. We decided to move here then."

Hongjoong nodded, "Can I ask what kind of an accident it was?"

"I'm actually not sure," you replied, "some sort of a ship accident when they were going to Mist Island-"

You paused. The incidents couldn't be related, could they?

"I know what you're thinking," Hongjoong's voice was low, "there's a chance that it's connected to the uprising. But we can't be sure. Don't let it get to you- it might have been just an accident-"

"But..." you looked at him, "They drowned. If there were water mages on board, they would have lived, wouldn't they? Maybe they couldn't save everyone and that's understandable, but... maybe I should find the survivors and interrogate them."

Hongjoong noticed your choice of words, "Hey, we can't be sure. Don't attract unnecessary attention, your life's already in danger as we speak-"

"If there's a chance that it wasn't an accident," you breathed, the fire in the fireplace turning red, "and they died because of me, I won't forgive the water mages- and I mean all of them."

"Hey," Hongjoong got up, noticing your glowing eyes, bending in front of you as he put a hand on yours, cooling you down, "it's gonna be okay. We'll find out, okay? And remember- you don't have to blame all the water mages if that was the case. Yunho is your friend, and he's one of the kindest people we know, isn't he? He is a water mage, and he is your friend. Be wise about this, will you?"

You took a deep breath, nodding, the fire dimming back to normal, "Sorry, I- I nearly lost control, I'm sorry-" you noticed his hand on yours, taking it and examining it to check if it was okay, "I could have burned you, Hongjoong."

"You couldn't," he only smiled, "you can't burn me, you should know."

"I can definitely set your ass on fire," you raised a brow.

"I'd rather you melt my frozen heart, Princess."

You rolled your eyes, but your heart fluttered unexplainably at that as you scanned Hongjoong's face, taking in his features, realizing you two were closer than ever with him bending down in front of you.

"I might burn and hurt you in the process," you managed to say, your voice barely coming out more than a whisper.

"Well, good for you," Hongjoong leaned in to whisper in your ear, "I like playing with fire."

You laughed a bit as he drew back and took his seat, smirking at you. "I'm not even sure if you were flirting or just being yourself."

"I can do both at the same time," he winked at you.

"Gosh, I should have left you in that tower," you finished your coffee, getting up, "You look prettier when you're hibernated and all frosty."

"At least you're admitting that I'm pretty, Princess," Hongjoong got up too, bringing his cup with him.

"Don't let it get to your head, Prince," you scoffed, mentally cursing yourself because Seonghwa was right- you sucked at this.

"You're prettier too," Hongjoong said, and you turned to look at him, finding him grinning devilishly, "When you're all angry and hot-"

You sent a bolt of fire his way and he snubbed it with merely a wave, making you send another for his butt which he dodged expertly.

"Come on, what did I say?!" Hongjoong cried out, laughing in disbelief when you started grinning.

"You like me angry and hot, I'm going to give you angry and hot."

You both kept sending fire and ice for each other, running around and laughing out loudly, cursing at each other and giggling like kids, not even noticing when Yunho and Seonghwa entered and stood in the doorway frozen while they watched you play like kids in your own little world.

"Should we maybe go for another round?" Yunho muttered, "I feel like I'm interrupting somewhere."

Seonghwa scoffed, "Fire and Ice? Who would've thought."

Yunho looked at Seonghwa and laughed, "You think they...?"

"I know that they are going to become a thing," Seonghwa nodded at him, smiling, "can't say I dislike the idea. Come on, let's give them five more minutes, then I'm ending this-"

You gasped as you realized the snowball Hongjoong had sent for you hit Seonghwa square in the face.

"I- I didn't mean to-" Hongjoong attempted to say but ended up laughing as he saw Seonghwa sigh in disappointment.

"Come out!" Seonghwa glared at Hongjoong, "Let's have a man-to-man snowball fight!"

Yunho stood grabbing Seonghwa's arm trying to hold him back but ending up in tears because he was laughing so hard as Seonghwa sent phantom hands and started dragging Hongjoong out, Hongjoong screaming in help, and you pinched the bridge of your nose, smiling.

"Let's not be kids about this," you told Seonghwa, who let go of Hongjoong.

"Rich coming from you," Seonghwa raised a brow at you and you blew a kiss at him, sticking your tongue out.

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

You and Yunho were trying to practice your magic, you teaching him about the basic principles and how he should be able to control his magic better, and you discovered that Yunho was a quick learner, apart from being very patient and cooperative. It was probably why he learned and listened to you well, and he would do even better if-

If Hongjoong wasn't practically breathing down your necks as you taught him.

"Shouldn't he be learning from me?" Hongjoong questioned, "water and ice are related. Fire and water are enemies in all sense."

"It's actually better when you learn from your enemy- not that Yunho is mine," you said, "it's better when you know how to defend yourself against the magic that is the most threatening to you, don't you think so Yunho?"

"Definitely," Yunho nodded, grinning at Hongjoong, "you should learn a bit from her too."

"You're enjoying this way too much, aren't you?" Hongjoong scoffed, "ice and fire are equals, I'd say. No one lived to tell which one's better if they battled it out."

"Should we check and decide once and for all?" You offered, and Hongjoong raised his hands in the air in surrender, making you shake your head. You noticed Seonghwa coming out and propping himself in the chair next to Hongjoong with a knitting set in his hands.

"You should learn with me," Hongjoong told Seonghwa, "After all, what goes better than cold and dark?"

"Now don't you go corrupting my friend," you glared at him, ignoring when Hongjoong asked you just how he was 'corrupting' Seonghwa, turning back to focus on Yunho.

"Sorry for being distracted, Hongjoong doesn't let me breathe," you muttered, and Yunho told you it was okay, "so, where were we?"

"Water has memories," Yunho told you, "doesn't every magic have memories?"

"Water is always there, in one form or another," you told him, sitting down and touching the snow, "this snow was water at some point. But water bodies, like lakes and oceans, they have memories. So if it's been in contact with anything, you can access the memory."

"I've heard about it," Yunho nodded, running his hands over the snow- you stared shamelessly because at this point, you had a thing for his hands, "But isn't it like something specific to the Water Prince maybe?"

"No magic is specific only to the original bloodline," you corrected him, "We just have more strength of everything in our magic. If you train long and hard, you can open every chamber of your magic. You do know that even the originals can't access every chamber of their magic, don't you?"

"I heard you have to keep one or two closed so it doesn't consume you," Yunho looked at you and you nodded in confirmation.

"Since you're not an original, you don't have to worry about it consuming you- you can open every chamber because you'll only be accessing some of it- you can't delve in completely."

"That theory sucks, by the way," Hongjoong commented, "What if he ends up unintentionally focusing all his energy in one chamber? What if it consumes him?"

"It won't consume him if it's only one chamber- rather he'd become a master of it," you corrected.

"That's only your theory. No one has done it before."

"I know it works, Prince," you huffed, and Hongjoong was about to speak up but Seonghwa put a hand on his arm.

"Don't ask how, ever," he warned, "she went through literal hell herself to find this out."

Hongjoong opened his mouth to speak but shut up instantly- literal hell? For you, literal hell could only be your own magic-

Hongjoong's eyes went wide in realization as Seonghwa nodded- it must have had to do something with the incident 5 years ago, he realized. He watched you put your hand through the snow and turn it into water- such control, such power... you must really have gone through literal hell to know all of this. It made him wonder just how it had happened. Had you lost control of your magic?

It was the next day when he got his answer as you rushed through the bookstore, row after row, to find Seonghwa but finding Hongjoong instead, and he took in your state.

"Everything okay?"

"Where's Seonghwa?" You asked, trying to catch your breath.

"He went out for grocery- what's wrong?"

"I have no time to explain, he's in danger," your eyes glowed for a second before you came back, "Help me find him."

Hongjoong immediately got up, not questioning how you knew, calling Yunho over and Hongjoong used his tracking magic, the three of you running to the site.

You had almost reached the store when you spotted Seonghwa's magic- phantom hands in the air as a signal, and you tugged Yunho's arm-

"Water mages," you looked at him, "You shouldn't go if you don't want to be in their blacklist."

"Seonghwa's my friend too," Yunho simply said as he took your hand and ran to where Seonghwa was.

Hongjoong stopped you, raising his hands and marking the men- there were 4 of them, and Seonghwa was barely holding, his face etched into a pained expression.

"Stay back," you said, "I'll handle this."

With that, your eyes glowed as you raised your hand and swiped it, knocking all of them unconscious in seconds and Hongjoong made an impressed face.

"That's certainly handy," he commented, and you shrugged, rushing to Seonghwa who was out of breath.

"I felt it- are you okay? Was I late?" You asked as you grabbed Seonghwa by the shoulders, examining him. He laughed a bit, patting your cheek.

"I'm fine, but you definitely could have arrived earlier- I was losing hope. But I guess the fire you put in my necklace definitely works."

"Sorry," you muttered but Seonghwa told you he was joking and that it was fine.

"Are all of them water mages?" Yunho frowned as he looked at the fallen bodies, "I don't think I recognize any of them."

"Seems like it," Hongjoong sighed, "We should do something about this before people notice."

Which was how you ended up with the 4 men tied to the chairs in your basement, waiting for them to wake up so you could start questioning them. When one of them stirred, you all met eyes and Seonghwa wrapped his dark magic around the man's hand, rendering him unable to use his magic. The man blinked a few times, adjusting himself to the surroundings, looking around and then ended up laughing like a maniac, which had you nervously bite your lip as you looked at Hongjoong.

"I didn't expect such a weird group of friends, Princess," he looked at each of them, "keeping friends close and enemies closer, aren't you?"

"And why would I need to keep my enemies closer? I'm sure you must have an answer to that?"

"I must say, I didn't expect the Ice Prince in your company," he scanned Hongjoong, his lips curling in a devilish smile, "Had a good time with my friends in the mountains?"

Hongjoong got up, circling around the man, "Who's behind this uprising?"

"Wouldn't you love to know," the man practically spat, his dark hair falling on his face, and when Hongjoong's eyes glowed in anger, you stepped in.

"If you value your life, you'll answer my questions," your eyes glowed and your voice was steel, "You do know I was framed for your Prince's death, don't you?"

His eyes flashed, "Is that an excuse for burning him to death? Is this how you're going to save your hide now?"

"Were you present 5 years ago when all of that happened?" Yunho asked, "Did you see the Princess burn him to death?"

"Who else could have?" The man scoffed, "What's your point, girl?"

"I don't care whether you believe me or not," you leaned in front of him, "Do you have any knowledge of the incident that drowned the rest of the original fire bloodline?"

Hongjoong called your name in warning while Seonghwa and Yunho gasped in realization, the man staring at you, thinking, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Please," you scoffed, "All of Wonderland knows exactly how the last of the fire bloodline died, and you don't know what I'm talking about? Tell me, do you know the water mages that were on board? Or..." your hand was on fire now as you threatened to burn him, "Were you on board?"

"I wasn't!" He cringed away from the burning sensation that neared his hand, "I don't know the water mages who were!"

"I can smell the lies on you," you whispered, bringing your hand closer to his, "Would you like to burn to death like your Prince?"

Hongjoong called your name in warning again but Seonghwa stopped him and Yunho too, who looked like he would get up any second now. You waited until the man sighed, giving in.

"I may know one of the water mages who were on board- not personally. I'm not sure, but I think I have an idea- he goes by the name of Kwangsoo."

You nodded, taking a step away from him and he sighed in relief, Hongjoong making you back away further as he took over.

"Who sent you and who is behind this stupid idea to end the original bloodline?" Hongjoong's voice was as icy as his magic, making you shiver a bit as you joined Seonghwa and Yunho, Seonghwa rubbing your back.

"Does it matter?" The man asked, "It's been going around for decades now, longer before you were born, the both of you. It's only rising in magnitude now, that's why you noticed."

That was news to all of you- it seemed like the ones who were a part of the uprising were taught about how it began and all that too. Hongjoong made the man talk, learning some history and their plans with him and you, finally stopping and standing back with you.

"Shall we kill them or let them go?"

"I don't kill people," you raised your hands in surrender, "be my guest, do whatever you'd like."

So Hongjoong let them go with a message to convey to their little gang- do not mess with the Ice Prince and the Fire Princess, who're living in peace and will continue to do so unless provoked.

Later that night, Hongjoong joined you when he found you sitting bare-feet in the ice again, shivering a bit. He shook his head at you, "You know, you don't have to do this every time you feel as if you're burning- I'm here. I'm here for you."

Something about the way he said that made you look up and stare at him for a good minute, "I didn't want to bother you- plus, it's awkward to ask you to do that."

"So you're considerate and shy?" Hongjoong grinned, making you roll your eyes and throw a fistful of snow at him, "But really, it's not gonna be awkward if we don't make it."

"I'm not quite sure if I understand," you muttered, watching Hongjoong sigh and offer you his hand.

"Walk with me?"

The two of you walked with hands joined as he sent his magic to cool your insides down, and you suddenly felt wary of how it would look like to anyone else who noticed. Hongjoong looked like he was comfortable with this- you, however, were both comfortable and nervous.

"Earlier today... would you really have burned the man for answers?" Hongjoong finally asked you.

You pursed your lips, "I would say no but now that I think about it... I'm not quite sure."

"That's okay, you know?" Hongjoong squeezed your hand, "I think it's a bit suspicious- your parents' death. We should make sure, just in case, but... are you sure you can handle the truth?"

"That's exactly why I was out there in the snow thinking," you smiled sheepishly, "It would be ugly if I lose control again."

"Again?" Hongjoong asked, "When did that happen last time?"

"I suppose you should know," you looked at him, "When the Prince of Water was burned to death, I was the obvious suspect. I was... imprisoned, like you, for a while. That's how it happened- I ended up burning my own shackles and the very ground I sat on. They had to let me go- if it weren't for my father, I would have set Wonderland on fire."

"Ah," Hongjoong realized there really was a reason you were so considerate when you first saw him- he must have reminded you of yourself, "How do you think that happened, the Prince?"

"A simple trick of fire and an air mage is the most probable answer," you said, "We fire mages tend to burn a man from the inside out- not the outside, like setting a person on fire. Fire mages have a bit of a... dramatic flair, you could say."

Despite the seriousness of the topic, Hongjoong was grinning, "I heard ice mages make it dramatic too- slowly freeze a man."

"What a spectacle," you muttered bitterly, sharing a laugh with Hongjoong, noticing your still joined hands realizing you were okay now, "You can let go of my hand- I'm normal now."

"And if I want to keep holding on?" Hongjoong looked at you, his long lashes casting a shadow on his eyes in the strong moonlight.

"I really don't get you," you laughed, flushing despite yourself, "Do you have a thing for holding hands?"

"I like how warm your hands are, actually," Hongjoong raised your joined hands as if looking at them, "I may be the Ice Prince but I like the warmth, just like you like the cold."

"We're polar opposites," you stopped walking, "crazy how we fit with each other, isn't it?"

Hongjoong smiled warmly at you, tucking your hair behind your ear, patting your cheek, and you stood with lips parted, watching him scan your face until his smile grew into a smirk. "Flirting back, are we?"

"I really should have left you in that damned tower," you muttered, beginning to go away but Hongjoong pulled you back to him, wrapping his arms around you, never letting go of your hand. You tried wriggling out of his embrace as you groaned, but he only held you tighter, laughing a bit, and you couldn't tell if he was being playful or what.

"I'm gonna set your ass on fire if you don't let me go, Hongjoong," you warned, though you were smiling.

Hongjoong shifted so he could whisper in your ear, "It's been a while since I've hugged a human and not a snowman, Princess, let me be."

You weren't sure if he was joking or not, so you only stood awkwardly, finally melting into the hug after a few seconds. "You feel like a snowman."

"And you feel like home- warm and safe."

You finally wrapped your arms around him after that, letting him get his share of hug that he had craved so much, stealing warmth and cold from each other.

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

"Either you go with me or you don't go," Seonghwa gave his verdict, turning back to cleaning the library while you stood with the broom in your hand and jaw clenched.

"It's dangerous, why don't you understand that if something happened to you, I won't be able to take it?"

"As happy as I am to hear that," Seonghwa let out a short laugh, "I'd rather we go together. I may not be an original but you know I can look after myself better than the others. And you're taking Hongjoong with you, someone you only met a few weeks ago. That hurts my pride."

That was a fact you could not deny, "But... Seonghwa, I wouldn't be too sad if something happened to Hongjoong now, would I?"

"I hear you loud and clear, Princess!" Hongjoong shouted from the other row where he and Yunho were arranging books, and you heard Yunho's breathy giggles, "Back at you!"

You pointed a thumb backwards, looking at Seonghwa smugly as if your point was proven, "See? We won't be sad if something happened to one of us."

"But Yunho's going too!" Seonghwa started cleaning furiously.

"We're using him as a guide and we're going to drop him off afterwards- maybe even earlier if the situation calls."

"I can look after myself too!" Yunho shouted.

"I'd be sad if something happened to you!" You shouted back.

"Hey, what's with the discrimination!" You heard a furious shuffle as Hongjoong came to you, laughing in disbelief, "You wanna go, Seonghwa? Let's go, all of us."

"Hongjoong," you warned, but you were cut off by him.

"They're adults, good with their magic and can take care of themselves," Hongjoong's voice was not sarcastic anymore, and you knew you were being unfair about this. You sighed, shaking your head as you went back to cleaning, and Seonghwa stifled his laugh when he saw steam rise from your head, deciding to not comment on it in case you really did burn his ass like you always threatened to.

The four of you shut the café and Seonghwa met with the grandma next door to tell her they'd be gone for a few days. Hongjoong didn't need to be told to wear a hoodie and cover his head- silver hair like his could be seen and recognized from quite a distance, and with the threat hanging on his head and yours, you guys were better off safe than sorry.

It was quite a week that you travelled- constant bickering between you and Hongjoong in the day but in the nights when both of you had trouble sleeping, you'd sit watch and get to know each other. You didn't realize how it became a routine- something you were beginning to look forward to, when the two of you weren't Prince and Princess but Hongjoong and... you.

Yunho and Seonghwa had been the most cooperative, as if they were afraid you'd both ditch them because it was dangerous and go on your own. Yunho learned his magic with you and Hongjoong while Seonghwa practiced his deadly magic as well- there really was a lot you could do with shadows and phantoms. But you realized with every passing day that the four of you got along really well, and that you were going to miss them when you would part ways. You secretly wanted to keep them all to yourselves, and you were going to offer them the mundane life of running the bookstore café with you before you'd part ways.

You were on your way to the coast where most of the water mages dwelled, having passed as a group of friends travelling. You all had ditched the idea of carriages after people started to notice Hongjoong and you- you supposed it was just the aura you both gave that caught people's attention. You and Seonghwa were just bickering over something stupid when Hongjoong heard an arrow whoosh your way and pushed you both to the ground, an ice shield automatically forming around the four of you.

You heard the distant yells of 'ice prince' along with the loud buzzing in your ears as Hongjoong shook you from your initial shock, and you pushed Seonghwa and Yunho behind you as you stood beside Hongjoong.

"There are 6," Hongjoong muttered, "They must have been following us for a while now. What do we do?"

"I'll handle this," Seonghwa stood up, and you watched a black smoke seep out of him as he sent phantom hands, knocking the men off their feet, but one of them sent a strong light your way which negated Seonghwa's magic and he shook his head.

"Drop the shield, Hongjoong," you said, "take cover, you two."

With that, you sent arrow after arrow of fire while Hongjoong both defended and attacked, Yunho yelling half in surprise and victory when he managed to create an ice shield of his own, Hongjoong sharing a grin with him. Seonghwa sat with his knees on the ground, sending an imperceptible thread of shadow and blinding the men.

"Should we run or should we do something about them?" Yunho asked.

"I say knock them unconscious and run," you muttered, "I'm not killing if you're not."

So you did that, tying the men together and leaving them in the middle of the forest to their fate while you continued travelling.

"This is exactly why I did not want you along with me," you glared at Seonghwa, "You could have been hurt and I could have done nothing about it."

"You could have been hurt too, if it weren't for Hongjoong," Seonghwa glared back, "What I'm saying is that we're in this together, whether you like it or not."

"I don't," you said, "and you both are staying with Yunho's family until we come back with information."

You and Seonghwa argued for a bit until Hongjoong intervened, telling you both to shut up. You huffed in anger and started walking a bit behind, Yunho joining you while Hongjoong gave you a knowing look- he'd made Seonghwa understand.

"You know she loves you a lot," Hongjoong said, "She wants you safe, and she doesn't want to worry about you."

"She thinks of me as a burden," Seonghwa sighed.

"No, she doesn't. She thinks of you as someone precious enough that she would lose herself if she lost you," Hongjoong smiled as he said that, "I think that's better than taking me as a scapegoat."

Seonghwa laughed, shaking his head, "She cares for you too, more than she'd like and would ever admit. I understand why she's comfortable with you- she thinks of you as an equal, someone who'll have her back without worrying the hell out of her- but she worries about you too- not the same reasons as me."

"Good to hear," Hongjoong was grinning and Seonghwa scanned his face, a knowing smile creeping on his face.

"You like her, don't you?"

"Me? Her?" Hongjoong barfed, "ew, no."

"You keep telling yourself that," Seonghwa laughed knowingly while Hongjoong brought his icy hands to cool his now warm cheeks.

Meanwhile, Yunho was patting your back. "I understand why you want us to stay, but... the way you talk to Seonghwa, I'm not sure he understands your intentions. Or if he does... he just doesn't like the way you voice them."

"And how do I talk?" You asked.

"Aggressively-caringly," Yunho laughed, "It's like watching siblings fight- they'll never admit they love each other but they'll also give their life for the other."

You finally smiled at that, "We'll be fine too, Seonghwa needs to understand. I know he understands, it just.... you said it," you laughed in defeat.

You reached the village where Yunho's uncle lived, recognizing the group of men you'd met that day during the mountain hike, and they welcomed all of you, including Hongjoong. They shut the windows, telling you all that you could be comfortable.

"Is there a reason why they aren't a part of the uprising like most of the mages?" You asked Yunho out of genuine curiosity as you examined the group of men who were playing board games, Hongjoong joining them in a game of chess and Seonghwa watching them excitedly.

"They really don't agree with the ideology," Yunho told you, "What's the point in killing the originals? There's always gonna be someone who's more powerful than the rest of us- it all comes down to whether they wield their power with the wrong intent or not."

"Exactly," Yunho's uncle propped down on your table, "The Prince of Water was my friend- he always thought of himself as superior. He had this planned for a while, and what happened to him... he had it coming."

"You do know who I am, don't you?" You asked, "you don't think I killed him?"

"You were just a little girl," he sighed, "I wasn't there, but my friends over there-" he pointed to Hongjoong's table, "they saw it, saw the whole thing. There was no way even an original could stop a flood and burn a man at the same time- plus I know how dramatic fire mages are. They don't set fire like that."

You smiled knowingly at Yunho, who smiled back, "Thank you for having us. It must be risky even for you- we won't be long here, just take care of my friend Seonghwa till we come back."

"Are you going to inquire about the ship accident that drowned your parents?" He asked, and you nodded- he was quick. "There's no use inquiring around. I know it was done on purpose- there were water mages on the ship, but they aren't to blame- it was one of the Illusioners."

"Illusioner? As in people who can make you think your magic isn't working and stuff like that? Aren't they extinct or something?"

"They live in a close community, the few remaining ones. I heard one of them was aboard. That's the only explanation that makes sense as well."

He was right, and this changed everything. After a quiet meal where you sorted your thoughts out, you hugged Seonghwa and Yunho, telling them to stay safe and wait patiently.

"I don't know how long it's gonna take, but if I'm dead, you'll know it. So don't go back before that."

"Don't say things like that," Seonghwa scolded, hugging you tighter, "You better come back."

With a kiss to your forehead, he let you go, and Yunho ruffled your hair, the two of you waving at and thanking everyone for their hospitality, donning your cloaks and setting out, the salty tinge of seawater in the air hitting your nostrils now that you had been inside for a while. Upon the instructions, you both took the ship that lead to Mist Island, where the Illusioners should be.

You told Hongjoong all about what you'd learned, and he agreed with that theory- it was the strongest lead you had so far. You had to find the person responsible for the accident, but...

"I don't know what I'm going to do once I find the Illusioner," you told Hongjoong when night time fell and you sat at the edge, watching land fade away.

"If you want me to... I could kill him for you."

You looked at Hongjoong in surprise, but his eyes were steel. He really meant it. You shook your head, "Would that solve anything? It would only fuel the uprising if people learn we killed one of the rarest mages."

"What are we going to do about the uprising anyway?" Hongjoong asked, "They're gonna keep coming after us. I don't want to leave Wonderland, even if it feels unsafe."

"You have a home with me, Hongjoong," you looked at him, "You don't have to go anywhere."

"I thought you couldn't stand me, Princess," Hongjoong scoffed, "Are you really offering that?"

"As long as you stop being a pain," you told him, making him laugh, "but really. Isn't it cool, us 4 running the café and just living life? We could expand the business. You could open an ice-cream truck right outside, maybe go around town, grow a beard like Santa."

Hongjoong shook his head at you, "You really enjoy my suffering, don't you?"

"Can't say I don't," you grinned.

"Thanks for the offer," Hongjoong sighed as he looked at the sky, "I'll think about it."

"Look at you pretending to think about it- you even left your stuff back there!" You slapped his arm, and he gasped in realization, "Should we make a detour and go to the tower, get the rest of your stuff too?" You teased, "I'd like to bring home the ice chandelier-"

Hongjoong flicked your forehead, making you howl in pain and try to flick his forehead but he leaned back, making you lean further in until you were almost on top of him and he had to hold your waist to keep you from falling. "If you wanted to be on top of me, you could have asked nicely."

You rolled your eyes, going back to sitting and Hongjoong only laughed at your embarrassed state, putting an arm around your shoulder and bringing you closer, cuddling into your side. "You're very clingy, Prince."

"You love it, Princess."

You made a face but you were too tired to argue further, so you put a head on his shoulder as the two of you watched the calm waves of the sea pull you further away from Wonderland.

The next evening, you reached Mist Island, the mountains large enough to make you shiver a bit- it had an eerie feel to it, just like its name. "Funny that it's called Mist Island," you said, "I really can't see much."

Hongjoong nodded- there was a strange fog spread over the surface of the ground, making the place seem haunted, the only reason you weren't scared being that it was day and it felt okay. "You think someone make this fog on purpose?"

"Definitely," you grinned, "If I had an island to myself, I'd have an eternal fire burning somewhere too- for the people to recognize it from far away."

Hongjoong laughed at that, "How dramatic."

You narrowed your eyes at him, "Have you forgotten how you built a freaking ice palace? With the ice chandelier? You're seriously gonna call me dramatic when you look like that? Have you dyed your hair, Prince?"

"I have not!" Hongjoong pouted, "Stop giving me shit about my appearance!" You grinned- you actually were pretty sure that you had a thing for Hongjoong's hair now- it was just such a beautiful shade of white and silver and the faintest hint of blonde, and it went so well with his icy blue eyes. "You can stop staring at me now, Princess. I'm not even sure what you're thinking, and I'm not sure I wanna know."

"Come on," you poked his arm before putting yours around his, "you know I like your hair."

"Do you now?" Hongjoong smirked.

"Nah, I just said that to make you feel better," you rolled your eyes, "Can we move now?"

Hongjoong pouted and was muttering some curses while you dragged him further into the island, trying to formulate a plan but getting distracted whenever Hongjoong pointed at something or teased you over something, and you wished you had Seonghwa with you- he was the only one who could shut Hongjoong up.

You were just walking through the forest following the sound of the city when a woman stepped in front of you all of a sudden, seemingly appearing from the fog, making you bite your tongue to keep from screaming.

"The original fire and ice mages," the woman scanned you both and you instinctively held on to Hongjoong tighter, "to what do we owe the pleasure?"

You couldn't feel any magic from her, and she looked normal enough- dark hair and darker eyes- but something about her was making the magic in your blood scream. "We come in search of the Illusioners. Just some questions to ask- all in peace," Hongjoong assured, and you nodded.

The woman let out a short laugh, "In peace? Questions? I don't think those two go well together," she suddenly put her hands up and you reacted instinctively, creating a shield, but-

You failed.

Your magic wasn't working.

"You're an Illusioner," you muttered, and she grinned, making you both drop to your knees, and you had no time to look how Hongjoong was holding up, seeing more people join the woman before everything went black.

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

You woke up in chains again.

You weren't sure if this was a dream or reality, but when you saw Hongjoong chained in front of you, his skin going paler and frost spreading on his lips and eyelids, you realized this was real. You really were chained, yet again.

Just like 5 years ago.

"No, no, no," you mumbled, staring at your gauntlets, preventing you from using your magic, and you panicked. You had no time to think, no time to plan, you just panicked as memories crept up your mind-

You were burning, and you would die.

There was nothing left in this world anymore. Just burning, hot fire. You were going to set Wonderland on fire before burning from the inside out.

You shook your head- there was no time to dwell on the past memories that always triggered you, now was not the time to be triggered and start burning from the inside out, but-

You couldn't help it. You could feel your magic roiling restlessly inside you.

You were going to burn from the inside out, and there was no Seonghwa to help you-

"Hongjoong," you almost whispered, looking around- you were in a basement, of all the places, just like that time, "Hongjoong!"

He didn't stir. He was out cold, and he was probably freezing from the inside too, just like you were burning. His head was hanging painfully to his side, chains around his waist holding him half-up like yours were.

You couldn't burn- not without getting Hongjoong out. You had to save Hongjoong, just like he had saved you so many times without even knowing. Just like you had saved him when you first met him.

You shut your eyes, trying to stop your restless magic from clouding your brain as you tried to think- these gauntlets were somehow presenting you from using magic altogether. Five years ago, you didn't have the ability to use magic without your hands, but this time it seemed it didn't matter.

You were so scared- for Hongjoong, more than yourself. For the innocent people on this island. For the destruction you'd cause if you lost control. Just what was the Illusioner thinking when she tied you both like this? Did she not know the amount of destruction you were capable of if you lost control?

Illusioner. Makes you think you are unable to use your magic.

Was this an illusion? Or were your gauntlets an illusion?

You looked down at your gauntlets, wondering if they were real. It certainly felt real- especially since it weighed your hands down, but... were they just for show? Could you somehow use your magic itself to break through the illusion?

You concentrated the magic to your hands- to hell with it if the metal would burn and melt the flesh on your hands. This was your only chance at making it out alive and saving Hongjoong and the rest of the island.

I am the Princess of Fire.

You brought your hands to the siphon, struggling to turn the notches down so you could have access to your full powers.

I am the Princess of Fire, and I will not be afraid of my own magic.

You shut your eyes in pain, willing your magic to travel to your hands, melting the gauntlet.

I will not be afraid of my magic, because it cannot burn me.

These were the last words your father, the original fire mage, had told you to keep close to your heart, because as soon as you were scared of your magic, it would start hurting you. You never understood why and how you could not be scared of the magnitude and hazard of your magic, but now it was starting to make sense.

Your mother had always told you that there needed to be something you wanted to protect- if not your own self (which should be the case), something so precious to you that you would risk your life to protect that. As you opened your eyes and looked at Hongjoong, you understood what she meant.

It was crazy how you had such a soft spot for the Prince of Ice you'd met only a few weeks ago. You'd never expected him to care about you either, but he clearly did. You'd learn how his family had left Wonderland in the fear of their life, but Hongjoong felt at home here- despite the threat to his own life. Despite going through something similar than what you had- what had broken you down completely. You were in awe of how strong he was- he embraced his magic, even when it hurt him like it was hurting him now. He only needed someone who believed in him to be okay.

You recalled your conversation from one of the nights when you were on your way to the coast and couldn't sleep, Hongjoong with you for 'night watch' as you both stared at the full moon. You finally asked him how long had he been imprisoned, since the winter season had come naturally enough but it only had gotten prolonged.

"5 months," Hongjoong sighed, "give or take."

"5 months?" You gaped at him, and he only smiled, "That's crazy, Hongjoong. How did you not, I don't know, freeze from the inside out, become an ice statue and shatter while engulfing Wonderland in some crazy blizzard that would freeze everyone too?"

Hongjoong laughed at your panicked state, "I think it's because I came to terms with my magic or something like that. I used to hate my magic too- people always said I felt too cold, even to the touch. My hair wasn't always white as well, believe it or not-"

You let out a scandalous gasp and Hongjoong slapped your arm before continuing, "People started to hate me, and I first thought I was the problem, but then I realized that I really wasn't. Those who actually care stick with you, whether you look like and feel like a snowman or not."

"Well," you grinned, "you make a pretty snowman. But, Hongjoong, you know I was imprisoned too. I barely made it three weeks before I started to melt everything around me. It's impressive that a prolonged winter was the only thing you really caused."

"You really should love yourself more, Princess," Hongjoong caressed your hair with a sad smile, and you noted how this time he didn't have that sarcastic tone every time he called you princess, "You should know that you matter, if not to anyone else, than to yourself. If no one's gonna love you, you have to love yourself."

"I have Seonghwa," you said, "And I had my parents- I know they loved me... but- then why was I so weak?"

"You weren't weak," Hongjoong shook his head, "Don't ever think of yourself as weak. The fact that you didn't set Wonderland on fire but only started burning from your own self before anything else, that means you didn't believe in yourself. Sometimes it happens- no matter the amount of people who love you and believe you, you end up doubting yourself."

"And I suppose in your case, since no one believed in you... you believed in yourself?"

Hongjoong nodded, "Well, you have one more person who believes in you now. Give yourself some credit, Princess. You're stronger than you think you are. Know why? Because despite the fire in your body, that fire doesn't drive people away- it attracts them. The people in your town know that you are the Princess, they just don't show it- because they believe in you. You keep them warm. I have heard them talking about you and how their homes are always warm. You heal the people's hearts without even realizing."

You gaped at Hongjoong- you had never realized the people knew. But... they had always been good to you. You had sometimes suspected that they knew, but now that Hongjoong confirmed it...

You stared at the gauntlets, watching it melt away and fall apart with a crack- it didn't hurt you. You stared at the broken gauntlets in confusion, your mouth opening in surprise when the gauntlets faded into smoke-

The gauntlets were an illusion.

You looked at Hongjoong- he probably didn't realize this was an illusion and was fighting with something inside his head- he was frowning. Perhaps he was battling with his magic. You melted the chains- those were real, and rushed to Hongjoong, touching his face and flinching away at first, because he was beyond ice cold.

You cupped his face, holding it up as you drew his hair back, "Hongjoong, listen to me. Everything is an illusion. You can break free. Hongjoong?"

Hongjoong groaned in response- he didn't seem well. You joined your foreheads, spreading warmth on his body through the skin contact, whispering his name again and again, drawing back when his groan went louder, your hands never leaving his face.

He finally opened his eyes, the frost on his lashes melting away as he looked at you in confusion. "Those gauntlets aren't real," you told him, "it's an illusion, Hongjoong. You can break free. Come on, you can do it."

"Help me," he looked down at his gauntlets and you understood, sending your magic through them, just like that time, while Hongjoong sent his ice magic, making the gauntlets crack and fade away, and he flexed his now free hands, looking at you in surprise as his vision became clearer, as if the mist on his eyes was now gone.

"That was quick," you muttered, laughing, and Hongjoong- still in his chains- bent forward to cup your face, his hands now warm, joining your foreheads again.

"You melted my frozen heart, Princess," he breathed, "exactly how I wanted you to."

You don't know who did it first, but you were kissing each other, quick and good before drawing apart, "We have to get away first, Prince."

With that, you broke apart his chains and melted the door knob, "As long as you realize that the only thing stopping your magic is you, you can break free of any illusions, understand?"

Hongjoong nodded, and the two of you went up the stairs, knocking out two mages before ascending, finding yourself in a dark lobby, instinctively holding on to each other. You heard some movement at your back and lit a fire around the source, trapping the same woman that you'd met. She panicked for a second, and then the fire went out-

"It's still there, the fire," Hongjoong whispered, "she's just making it seem like it isn't."

"Well, well," the woman scoffed, "Didn't expect you two to be so... chummy."

"I need answers, or you burn to death," you left Hongjoong's hand to bring the fire closer to the woman, inch by inch, "Which one of you Illusioner bitches was on board on the ship that killed my parents?"

"You can't kill me- you won't. Just like you couldn't kill the Prince of Water. Just like you couldn't kill the people who imprisoned you. Because your heart is soft, Princess."

"Her heart may be soft," Hongjoong was seething, "But mine isn't."

Your circle of fire burned blue- the hottest of flames, and the woman let out a scream as the fire spread barely inches away from her, "Tell me, Illusioner. Who is responsible for her parent's death?"

"Would you let me go if I told you I was?"

You narrowed your eyes, "Is this your way of saving your friend- or whoever it is you're taking the blame for? Because I don't think you should be doing that when you could burn to death."

"It was me," she glared at you both, "It's true that it was a natural accident- there was only one water mage aboard and he minimized the damage, but some people were bound to die. I just made sure your parents were one of them- I wouldn't have noticed there were fire mages aboard if they hadn't used their magic to try and save people."

You expected your knees to go weak and fall, maybe cry, but you only nodded absently, Hongjoong putting a hand on your shoulder, whispering your name.

"Leave her here, like this," you said to Hongjoong.

"NO!" The woman screamed, putting her arms around herself, her forehead glistening from the sweat, but you smirked.

"You're an Illusioner huh? Maybe make yourself believe there's no fire surrounding you and try stepping through it?"

With that, you turned and grabbed Hongjoong's hand, going outside, noticing a circle of blue fire around every Illusioner and you gaped at Hongjoong. He grinned, "Didn't want anything interrupting you, Princess."

"I didn't even notice," you sighed, "Let's get the hell out of here."

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

"I win," Yunho announced, raising his arms in victory as he slumped back on his chair, making the three of you gape.

"Not fair!" Hongjoong looked at him in disbelief, and so did you.

"He's one lucky guy," you scoffed, sharing a laugh with Seonghwa.

"Play games with Yunho, 10 out of 10 times you lose," Seonghwa laughed, all of your attention drawing to the door when the bell sounded and customers entered. Seonghwa got up, gathering the dices and cleaning the table, Yunho going to the counter to take their order.

"Walk with me?" Hongjoong asked, and you smiled, telling Seonghwa you'd be back in a while.

"I could get used to this," Hongjoong smiled as you two walked the empty path to the river, no one out so early in the morning.

"This?" You raised your joined hands, wriggling your eyebrows.

"I was talking about us running your bookstore café and living such a mundane life, but-" Hongjoong brought you closer with a smirk, "I could also get used to this."

It had been a couple of weeks since the encounter with the Illusioners on Mist Island- the fire circles that had trapped the mages were actually hot enough to make them sweat but cool enough to not burn them, leaving them confused and panicked until one of them would take the risk and realize it was only a trick- an illusion. You had both left with a simple message- do not bother us. Don't try to interfere in our lives, and we won't interfere in yours. It was relatively peaceful now- the uprising had died down a little since the mages you'd encounter so far had all made it out alive, which sent a clear message- you meant no harm.

You'd gone back to Wonderland and Seonghwa had almost cried when he saw you unscratched, and Yunho had decided to join you after all- but he joined you a week later, after wrapping up everything back home. The bookstore café was your home now- you'd clear up the store room so the boys could have an extra room, but you guys tended to fall asleep wherever you liked- you loved that it was so comfortable.

It was also really, really comfortable with Hongjoong- ever since that day, you guys were back to your routine of teasing each other until one of you screamed in frustration, but then finding comfort in each other's arms too, sharing light kisses every once in a while as you tried to figure out the change in your relationship and what exactly it meant.

You shook your head at Hongjoong who was muttering sinful things in your ears- something to rile you up and make you blush furiously, but you knew he'd never even touch you without your permission.

"I really, really want to kiss you right now," Hongjoong whispered in your ear, "And cover you in frost."

"You could do that," you said, "And I could cover you in ashes. I'm sure the black soot would look great on you."

"So romantic," Hongjoong laughed, the two of you sitting down by the river, and you looked at Hongjoong- his skin looked warmer now that winter was gone, his white shirt making his hair shine even brighter. Hongjoong turned to look at you, "What are you looking at?"

"You," you bit your lip as your hands travelled to his neck, bringing him in for a kiss.

This time it wasn't the light kisses and pecks you'd been sharing for weeks now- you wanted to dive further. You did as you leaned into him, a groan of surprise leaving him as his hands snaked to your waist, shifting you on top of him so he could meet the fervour of your kiss better, smiling into it.

"You're burning hot right now, you know that?" Hongjoong laughed a bit, your pink cheeks looking lovely to him.

"Good thing I have you to cool me down, isn't it?" You almost whispered.

"Gosh, I think I love you, Princess," he smiled widely as he caressed your face.

"You think?" You laughed, pushing him back on the soft grass as you kissed him, "I think I can tolerate you now, Prince."

"See? This is why I like you," Hongjoong muttered, and you slapped his cheek lightly.

"Shut up and let me kiss you."

"Make me."

You did. And as you pinned his hands on the ground, frost in the shape of flames sketched itself on the grass, leaving a trace of all things good.

You were the Fire Princess, and he was the Ice Prince. And you couldn't have been more perfect for each other.

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that-jax

9 months ago

Talk Your Sh*t - Jenson Button

Summary: After a new commentator joins the Sky Sports team, Jenson and her bond over a dislike of Danica when they come to Miami.

Age gap - Mid-20s/black cat!reader

Warning: Mild themes of misogyny within F1/media

No part 2 requests please

Jenson wasn't sure if y/n was brought in to purposely get under Danica's skin the way Danica gets under his skin. But it's safe to say the public has deemed Jenson and y/n the sex appeal of watching Sky Sports.

Y/n is actually very knowledgable on the sport and with the exception of Danica, gets along very well with the team.

"Sorry, I think I'm going to have to disagree with you, Danica." Y/n states as what has become now a famous line of the weekend and it's still only Friday.

Jenson has already begun to find himself smiling every time y/n speaks while not being able hide his grimace whenever Danica speaks.

They cut the segment and before the group can divide, Danica seems to have hit a boiling point with y/n.

"I'm surprised you're getting away with wearing the outfits you do. They're quite skimpy. What are you trying to attract some of the drivers?" Danica comments seeming to try and make it a joke but y/n frowns not hiding her offended reaction while Jenson goes to speak in the young woman's defence. But y/n beats him to it.

"What about my outfit is skimpy exactly?-Actually, don't answer that. Consider this strike 1, 2 more strikes and I'll take you straight to HR, your hand in mine and I'll have you repeat every out of line comment you've opened your mouth to make." Y/n states then scoffing. "And for the record, if I was trying to attract the drivers. You'd know about it."

That's true. If y/n set her eyes on a driver, Jenson is pretty sure she could have her pick. Maybe of even a couple of the drivers who are in a relationship.

Really her outfit isn't skimpy, she's wearing almost an outfit that's mourning-worthy. Black heels, tight and sort of a short skirt with a slightly oversized blazer with a white blouse under the blazer. Truth be told, the appeal of her is more than she's a gorgeous woman who dresses well, is young and looks good on tv. She's styled well, she's confident, and not afraid to share her opinions which do tend to disagree with Danica but they're well founded opinions.

Y/n is minimal and classy with an undertone of sexiness that might be easy to be distract by.

Today she's wearing full black tights but yesterday something that had every mans attention was stockings with ever so slightly visibly suspenders that were clipped on to keep her stockings up.

Carlos, Lando, Pierre and Logan were all caught in HD slow-mo staring and doing double takes of the young woman.

Danica seems to get the hint that her presence isn't wanted so she takes off and y/n scoffs rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

"Remind me to never cross you." Jenson comments making y/n turn and smile.

"I don't think you'd have the audacity to make a comment like that unprovoked." Y/n sighs before she smiles at him. "I don't think I've earned a spot in your bad books yet, have I?"

"No. No. I think you might be my favourite person to work with already." Jenson smiles watching her seem to get a little flustered at his words. "Wait, was that a crack in the confidence that I seen?"

"I-As if." Y/n scoffs in a quick recovery, shaking it off quickly.

"You hungry? We should grab some food before we're pulled into more recording." Jenson states making y/n smile and nod.

Sitting down together, y/n does gain some attention from other commentators from other broadcasters. But eventually the two are left on their own and y/n sighs deciding to speak of the elephant in the room.

"You know, you should try masking your expression when Danica speaks. Especially if you're going to look so happy whenever someone else is speaking." Y/n comments leaning back in her seat as she cross on leg over the other making her skirt slide up a little. Something he shouldn't notice but he does and he has to force his gaze away. This woman is nearly 20 years younger than him. He can't be the old perv who has wondering eyes.

And for some reason there's something in Jenson wishing she was wearing the stocking and suspender duo for the outfit today.

"I am happier whenever someone else is speaking." Jenson states honestly then shrugging. "I don't even know why they've still got her here when they've brought you in. You add much more to the conversation and you look good doing it."

Y/n doesn't say much back, just looking down with a small smirk before she shrugs a little.

"So humble." Jenson laughs while she finally looks up then clears her throat as her phone goes off.

"Oh...Fun. Apparently I'm being paired with Danica for more stuff-oh haha! You are too." Y/n grins watching the man look at her with a grin.

"I'll just stand and watch the two of you bicker."

"I'm not that bad."

"You've said the sentence sorry, I think I'm going to have to disagree with you, Danica at least 5 times since yesterday and we've not been on air that much." Jenson laughs while she grins at the man before placing her phone back down and picking up a chip from her plate.

"I'm not that bad...I just think it's important we all voice our opinion if it's not on the same understanding." Y/n smiles earning a look form Jenson while she just flashes her a teeth in a smile.

Y/n and Jenson eating meals together in the paddock and just sort of gluing themselves to one another was beginning to be a habit for the two and it was a habit others were beginning to notice.

"Wait, wait. Don't leave me." Y/n gasps when the cameras cut and Jenson seems to take off since she'd said something that disagreed with him only slightly. "Jenson..."

Now she's just doing it on purpose. Whining his name has an unnecessary effect.

"I'm sorry." Y/n pouts making him slow his fast pace away. He wasn't really mad but he did maybe just want to tear him. "You left me with Danica."

"Consider it payback." Jenson states as he turns finding her looking up at him as they stand face to face.

"I'm sorry." Y/n pouts again and it takes every fibre of Jenson's being to maintain the self control not to close the space between them.

He feels like a teenager with a crush. He's a grown man for fuck sake and this woman is making him melt.

"You're forgiven." Jenson declares making her perk up and damn her because the brightness in her eyes actually makes his heart skip a beat.

"Are we intruding?" A sly smiling Lando questions as he passes by making y/n flush stepping away.

Truth be told, y/n is more successfully hiding an unshaken childhood crush on Jenson. She's be fighting the urge to climb on the man any time he sits down.

No doubt he sees her as a child, probably a mentor and mentee situation. Not that that's what she's going for.

Lando has already disappeared since he really was passing by and making a comment which he thinks needed to be made to point out that everyone is beginning to notice the tension between them.

Suddenly it dawns on y/n and she decides it's time to stop being shy about it.

"So what are you doing tonight?" Y/n asks making Jenson literally do a double take looking very shocked. "Just...usually I do nothing but go back to my hotel room and do nothing."

"Are you...asking me on a date, y/n y/l/n?" Jenson smirks looking like the playboy that he's quite famous for in his only slightly younger years.

"Would you...say yes if it was a date?" Y/n mumbles feeling the drop in her confidence because she wasn't exactly expecting him to call her out so obviously, or loudly.

"Yes."

Oh thank fuck.

"Then yes."

Y/n likes to think that she's got quite a dark feminine energy, she's not the doe eyed golden retriever type of girl. She's the siren eyes black cat.

But on a date with Jenson he's described her as cute and funny and even made a comment about her adding light to the otherwise dim room. He's charming and certainly knows how to converse on a date.

"So I have to know, when did I become so irresistible that you had to ask me on a date?" Jenson asks, the teasing mischief behind his eyes making her flush. This man just brings out a side she wishes she could hide but it's no use with him.

"Just living the dream. Meeting you was the whole goal when I decided to pursue sports journalism." Y/n shrugs making Jenson smirk. "Don't get cocky. I could still team up against you with Danica."

"That's a lie." Jenson laughs shaking his head while y/n grin at him.

"Ok, maybe that is a lie. I don't think I could ever try to befriend her. The amount of fans who call me out online and say they would do what I do." Y/n shrugs then picking up her glass of pink gin and lemonade.

"I love it. I think you are the best commentator we've had added to the team in years." Jenson shrugs making her beam at him. "I'll be pushing for them to keep you. Even if they drop me."

"As if they'd choose to drop Jenson Button, F1 world champion 2009 from the team." Y/n jokes before sighing and smiling as she sits back in her seat. "I think I dreamt about having a date like this for years."

"Here I am, making dreams come true." Jenson hums earning a laugh. "I would return the gesture but you're not an F1 champion."

"Wow...That's a violation. My feelings are hurt now."

"Oh sounds like I've got some grovelling to do."

There was no hints throughout the weekend, Jenson and y/n silently agreed to sort of take things slowly. Which is exactly what they did. They took things slowly and after a couple months of dating and building the perfect dynamic, which was really built after the first date.

Y/n decided it was time for a soft launch ahead of COTA.

She chose a mirror selfie what hide his face but there was definitely enough on show that it wasn't exactly a hard to tell it was Jenson.

Her comments were a blaze with his name and even a couple drivers along with many within F1 sent her messages some asking flat out and some just question marks searching for answers.

But she didn't reply and only decided to let their entrance in the paddock speak for itself.

Jenson quite enjoys the fact he is openly able to somewhat lay his claim. Y/n is a woman who could have her pick of people, and while people can say he's a man who can have his pick too. His pick was y/n and there was a chance she might not have reciprocated it.

Y/n definitely isn't expecting the very public kiss with one hand up cupping her face but Jenson feels her smiling against his lips and her face is definitely heating up under his hand.

"Well if I didn't send a message, you just hard launched a confirmation." Y/n whispers breaking the kiss while Jenson grins down at her.

"Can't I kiss you when you look so good?"

"Oh so usually I don't look good?" Y/n teases earning a groan a little.

"Trust you to twist my words." Jenson laughs then pecking her lips again. "You look good everyday. That's why I've been kissing your everyday."

"Mmm...good recovery."

"I try." Jenson smirks making her laugh before she steals a kiss this time then spins, linking their hands and beginning to walk very confidently through the paddock. Though they come across Martin, Danica and Crofty, all of whom look surprised to say the least.

After a small conversation, of which none of them address the obvious till Danica does pipe up. Unable to keep a petty comment to herself.

"You weren't wrong, we really do know when you're trying to attract someone."

"Well...I'm doing a bit more than attract Jenson." Y/n shoots back smoothly while Jenson looks at her fairly proudly and smug. "But I'm glad you can pick up on it. I know sometimes you struggle with seeing the obvious when it's right in front of you."

Martin and Crofty both pull expressions that are a combination of shock and maybe mildly impressed.

"Anyway, we're going to grab lunch. See you guys later for the broadcast."

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that-jax

1 year ago

Nick Robles’ Hades fan art!

2K notes View Post

that-jax

2 years ago

Hello luv 💞 so I was listening to Lover's Oath and I had a thought,,, what if Huxian/Fox God! Reader has been with Zhongli even before the war, they fought by his side and after the War they got together but reader hasn't shaken off from their mind Zhongli's look of anguish and loss when Guizhong died in his arms. Reader decides that it might be better if Guizhong was there instead of them, so reader finds someone who could bring her back,,, imagine theres a scene where Zhongli and Guizhong looks at each other through the crowd, not noticing that reader smiles bitterly within the crowd and heads home to pack and leave Liyue, reader still feels happy for both of them. BUTTTTT Zhongli really loves reader, not Guizhong, she really was just his close friend. Imagine how shocked he'd be when he comes home earlier to tell reader the news and he catches them in her big fox form with luggage in mouth, about to leave. I'm feeling an angst to fluff kind of story if you don't mind d request,,,

Who you pretend I am

(Zhongli x fellow god! gn! reader)

ANON U ARE SO BIG BRAINED <3 Your ideas... CHEFS KISS <3 I had to do a LOT of research on Chinese mythology and genshin lore cus...that hole is deep, but I hope I did your idea justice!! Im ngl i was tearing up writing this--- title was inspired by "Wahing machine heart" by Mitski because I started thinking about the lyrics a lot as I wrote this

Length: 6. 8 k

Genre: Angst with a happy ending

cw: mentions of violence and blood, character death (not reader) and self-deprecating feelings

It is said that long before the archon wars raged across the land - long before the god Morax became the revered Rex Lapis, even preceding the connection of the Lord of Geo and Ruler of Clouds, another soul resided beside the Geo archon.

A young adeptus was all Morax had been, a spirit guided by lust for glory and violence - brute force with no wit to match. That was what he had been when you first met him, teasing him playfully as you tricked the young god.

A dragon born of rock and a fox descending from the goddess who presides over life and death - an unlikely pair to say the least. You had laughed and teased the young Morax, whose anger created rifts in the newborn and smooth-faced earth as he chased your flickering form, morphing from shape to shape to confuse him further.

"Quit pestering me!" he'd snapped, his sharp talons digging into the ground as he glowered up at your form - stretched out on the branches above the tree he'd been resting under. You simply laughed - an enchanting sound magical enough to put anyone under its spell, you'd been told, and allowed your tail to flick his nose, a fond smirk upon your features.

"I'll stop once you prove you're no longer a child, Morax. It's simply so much fun to watch your childish tantrums," you teased, quickly moving your tail out of the way as he attempted to slash at it with his clawed hands.

And he did prove it - centuries passed, you teasing, but on many an occasion also aiding him - and he was to become known as the Lord of Geo. Your teasing slowly relented, becoming an occasional friendly jab that he had learned to deflect easily. The day had come, when you bowed to him, acknowledging his growth as a god.

That day, both sat under the forest that had bloomed around the lone tree you oh so long ago played under, he had asked you to become his right hand.

You stretched in the sun, your tails spread around you as you soaked in the warmth. With a teasing flick of a tail, you smirked. "I've always been that, Morax."

Battles were fought, lands created - all with you by his side. Serving as the brains to his brawn for the longest time. While his powers could shatter boulders and bones, yours could wreck minds and hearts - it was a successful conjoined effort of two spirits in separate forms that intertwined.

You had met Guizhong with Morax - the two of you wandering the fields when you came across the beautiful goddess. She introduced herself as Guizhong, the Ruler of Clouds, the Lord of Dust - and on the spot - amidst the beautiful wild glaze lilies, she gifted Morax a stone dumbbell she called Memory of Dust.

"I propose we form an allience, Morax, Lord of Geo," she spoke delicately, a smile upon her gentle features. "You are strong and powerful - and I am neither of those, but what I do excel in, is strategy." "You have a deal, Guizhong, Ruler of Clouds," Morax spoke with a smile of his own and you watched from the sidelines, eager and hopeful for a prosperous future for all three of you.

Later, that night, twirling a glaze lily in his hands - hands that destroyed so easily - he turned to you. "You approve of joining forces with Guizhong, don't you?"

You laughed, ruffling his hair with a clawed hand.

"You could use some brains to back up that empty head of yours - of course I approve!" You teased him playfully, and the gentle smile he sent your way warmed your old heart.

Soon enough, Morax and Guizhong enlisted the help of Marchosius, Patron God of the Soil and Stove - and Guili Assembly was forged from empty fields over the course of centuries, a flourishing nation in pursuit of knowledge. The four of you grew close - your love for the kind and gentle Guizhong becoming that of a sibling - she was the wise and balanced member of your group, always managing to bring about a calmness when turmoil threatened to arrive.

You watched happily, as Morax, a childish firecracker of a dragon once, matured more as a ruler - co-operating beside Guizhong in perfect harmony. The adepti that Morax had taken rule over answered to her every beck and call, and soon, your close friends became closer still without your presence.

It was bittersweet, watching Cloud Retainer, another old friend of yours, set up dinners for Guizhong, herself and Morax - it started off as a simple gesture of goodwill, but became a longstanding tradition you wished not to impede on. You were happy, of course, that the ones closest to you could find joy in each other's company - but still, a heart's a heavy burden that only grows heavier over time.

You laid upon a large bolder, your many tails keeping your figure warm in the cool night as you watched the skies above with Moon Carver for company. He was a gentle, nurturing presence on nights you felt most alone. Strumming your sharpened nails upon the bolder, your gaze slipped to the peaks of Mt. Aocang, upon which you could see the faintest glow of light. You sighed.

"You are unusually quiet upon this dark night. One is concerned over your wellbeing," he spoke, his bellowing voice steering your longing gaze from the peaks of the mountain. You smiled bitterly.

"I'm perfectly alright, Moon Carver, but I do appreciate the concern," you replied distantly, your thoughts drifting away with the gentle wind once more. With the softest of thuds and grace gifted to nimble foxes, you hopped off the boulder and stretched.

"I'm going to go get some rest, good night, old friend," you bid the adeptus farewell and he bowed his head in response, a knowing glint in his wise eyes.

Your wandering feet led you amidst the lands of Guili plains, taking in the sights before you shrouded in a veil of darkness. You sighed quietly as you took note of the large Ballista perched atop Mt. Tianheng. The most marvelous creation of your close companions Cloud Retainer and Guizhong. You climbed closer to it in silence and slid your fingers gently across the smooth wood it was constructed of.

You were happy to have such clever friends - truly. Friends whose wisdom did not rely upon trickery and metamorphosis as your did - friends who were of much use when it came to more strategic matters of battle. You placed your forehead against the wooden weaponry, having no fear it would attack you - it was constructed to protect the people, gods and adepti of the Guili Assembly after all. The cool wooden surface soothed a lingering ache within you.

Morax deserved companions such as the two masterminds behind the invention. He had grown much as a god, and you were certain, that with the help of Guizhong, he could grow more still.

The archon war was a cruel and unjust massacre - leaving gods of all status to fight tooth and nail for the seven seats reserved for those that Celestia deemed worthy. The soil of Teyvat was watered with blood of divine and mortal origin alike and no one was safe from the battlefields of the hunger for power.

Of course, you and the adepti, the Lord of Dust and God of Stove backed Morax in his conquest to secure one of those seats. Morax was an ancient being already compared to many of the gods that fought. Guizhong provided your troops with valuable strategies and you were quick to clutch the hilt of your blade in your clawed hands, baring your sharp teeth at your enemies as you charged into battle alongside your oldest living companion - Morax.

Yes. Blood flowed in rivers and no one could be safe from the paralyzing pain of loss, when it came to the gruesome battles you fought it, desperate to live - desperate to win.

"When I secure a seat amongst the seven - our people will thrive," Morax said with a stern expression set upon his stony face, facing you and Guizhong as he gripped his Vortex Vanquisher tightly, his tail moving swiftly from side to side.

Quizhong nodded slowly.

"We have no choice but to fight anyway - every being of higher status is out for blood," she agreed. You could not help but agree, despite knowing the needless blood that must be shed in your future endeavors.

Oh how you wished this cursed war had not taken place at all.

That you and your companions could have been spared of the pains of it.

"(Name), watch out!" you heard Morax' voice call out for you as you removed your blade from the slain body of a fellow god. You turned towards him swiftly, your ears pinned to your head. It all happened in a blur - a heavy claymore swung at you in the blink of an eye - ready to slash you open and drain you of life.

In that frightening moment, time itself seemed to slow down as your eyes locked onto the amber hue glowing in Morax's gaze, his face twisted in a desperate scream.

And then, you hit the ground.

But no pain penetrated your body other than the slight sting of your side making contact with the ground.

When your eyes darted to your right - that was when the pain arrived.

Excruciating, deep and unbearable pain, as you saw Guizhong bleeding out on the ground beside you, having taken the hit for you.

You could only watch in paralyzed sorrow as the enemy raised his weapon once more to descend it upon your fragile state - only to crumble to the ground as a spear shot through his heart with angry precision, dimming the life from his war-hungry gaze in a single moment.

You watched Morax's polearm clatter onto the earth, stained with blood as he surged forward, falling to his knees beside a bleeding Guizhong and swooping her weak, limp figure into his arms.

You felt wetness upon your cheeks, soon followed by your vision blurring as tears freely flowed from your eyes, crumbling any semblance of the façade of a strong warrior you had donned.

"Guizhong?" you heard Morax mutter in desperation as his attempted to stop the blood from oozing out of the wound in her torso, his hands glistening with a mix of hers and the enemy's blood. Weakly, you crawled towards them, your body shaking as you watched the two - grief wrapping you within its clutches as you saw Guizhong send Morax a weakened smile, her eyes slowly glazing over.

The skies wept in darkness along with you, glaze lilies stained in blood surrounding the three of you as a gentle breeze danced amongst them.

"It seems our journey together has come to an end, my friend," Guizhong whispered to Morax, her breathing getting slower as she gently patted his hand, the hand pressing down on her wound in an attempt to stop the flow of life oozing out of her.

She glanced at you with a sad smile - a smile of a loving friend, something so gentle and sweet.

"Morax," she turned to him again, and with trembling lips and shaking hands, his eyes met hers.

"Forget about the dumbbell," she told him. "No contract needs to mark our friendship," were her final words as her soul was swept away by the gentle breeze, carrying it to distant, hopefully kinder lands.

You could never forget the look upon Morax's face as his hand clutched the limp, gentle hand of Guizhong's body, a single tear rolling down his face as he shook with grief - a look of utter anguish and suffering that you had never seen him wear - not once in the long years you had known him for. A look of a grieving lover - pain of a love lost.

In anger, fuelled by grief, the war kept on - Morax mercilessly vanquished his enemies with a fury behind his actions - his pillars crushing and piercing all those that stood in his way. You fought by his side, quietly grieving alongside him - your only comfort being each other after battles were won and night had fallen.

"(Name)?" he approached your room in your temporary abode quietly, his expression exhausted and crestfallen as he stood in your doorway, all the anger from the battle fought gone, leaving behind only a desperate, grieving husk threatening to crumble before you like a pile of rocks. You surged forward, extending your hand to him quickly, your eyes wide. You'd never seen him like this before the death of your beloved friend, never seen him so out of it as he slowly took steps towards you and pulled you close, wrapping his strong arms, arms that had shed so much blood, around your figure, resting his face in the crook of your neck.

You shook as you returned the embrace, holding him tight in painful silence as the two of you mourned, the air heavy with an itching pain that refused to fade.

That had been the first time of many that Morax came to you in such a state, seeking out your comfort and allowing you to see him in such a vulnerable and broken state. You took him in each time, running your hands through his hair and gently stroking his horns as tears flowed down your face, shedding enough of them for the both of you.

You wept each night as you watched the wilting glaze lilies in your vase, recalling the tender gaze the two had been locked in before Guizhong's life drained away.

You wished it had been you, who had died. You - who the blow had been intended for, who had died.

The Guili Assembly crumbled - all the hard work you had strained to achieve - gone in the throes of cruel war. You watched Morax, his face set in a heavy expression, as he gathered up all that was left of the people of Guili, and began to guide them towards new land - new lands where they could prosper. You followed him, doing all you could to aid him.

The forest that once bloomed, the tree you had made your first pact under - it was all left in ashes and still-glowing embers of fire. Destroyed like all else the two of you had loved.

It had been many years since the death of Guizhong, and the war was nearing its bitter end. Morax claimed his throne as the Archon of Geo, rightfully so - but the pain never eased through all of it.

"(Name)," he whispered, his smouldering eyes staring into yours as you stood within the ashes of where he once asked you to become his right hand.

"(Name)...I must admit, my feelings for you go beyond friendship," he told you calmly, a tired look upon his beautiful face.

"We are entering a new era - an era of Archons, and I would be honored, if you'd grace me with the opportunity to enter it with you by my side. By my side as my companion, my right hand, my lover."

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you ran into his arms, burying your face in his neck as you nodded, unable to speak in the moment. You should have felt happy - overjoyed, even, that the millennia of pining was not unrequited, yet you could not help but feel like a traitor.

You felt it was Guizhong, who deserved to hold Morax in her loving embrace, whose lips sealed the contract of her love to the Archon - who stood beside him as his lover and advisor as he built up the nation of Liyue with calloused, tired hands. Hands so tired of the blood they had shed - eyes filled with grief and regret as he built upon the ruins of the war, watching people prosper and forget the suffering he had endured for them.

And yet - you loved him. Perhaps you were selfish, but you accepted his declaration of love for you and bound yourself to him even stronger than before, willing to be the pillar of support he needed when grief threatened to tear him down. Willing to replace Guizhong, to be what she had been destined for - your only hope being that you did not let Morax down.

Centuries and millennia passed, the war long ended and the seven seats claimed by the strongest survivors of its cruelty. Liyue - the nation Morax raised lovingly from the bloodied soils beneath it, had become the capital of trade and contracts.

Morax had become Rex Lapis. The God of War had grown to become that of contracts, and the world had healed itself, its wounds were still there, but scarred over - pain subduing over time.

"Look at you now," you let out a bittersweet laugh as you watched Morax sat at his desk, delved deep into his analysis of the commerce system, already preparing for the next year's Rite of Descension as the people of Liyue had come to call it. His yearly gift of knowledge for aiding them in conquering the world with the iron fist of trade.

He peeked up at you through his dark lashes, a tender warmth to his ochre-colored eyes.

"What do you mean?" he asked, a soft smile resting upon his lips as he stood from his seat.

"All sophisticated and wise now - I bet no one would believe me if I told them what a petulant child you once were," you teased, reaching out your hand gently, using your long nails to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear.

"Mm.." he grumbled, placing a gentle hand upon your waist and drawing you closer gently.

"And I bet no one would believe me either, were I to announce that the Qíngrén Rex Lapis holds so dear was an unrelenting bully in their youth," he replied, brushing his nose against yours in a gentle display of affection.

"I wouldn't be so sure," with a smirk, you tugged at his tie gently, loosening it from round his neck and snatching it away. You quickly twirled out of his grasp, holding the silky item up proudly.

"I'd say I'm still quite the unrelenting bully, my dear Morax."

He allowed a rare laugh to emerge from his chest, rumbling warmly as he watched you fondly, crossing his arms.

"Perhaps you're right, (Name)."

Sometimes, late into the night, you wandered the halls of your luxurious shared abode, recalling the events of times long gone. Your walls were decorated with many luxuries - far too many of them trophies of a war bathed in blood and grief. Still, there was always one item you would stand before in silent grief - tears long shed, but the pain still as piercing as the sharp edge of the Jade weapon.

You remembered when Morax sat up late into the night, carving away at it with a rare serene expression, shreds of jade coating his lap and the ground around him as he worked relentlessly on the creation.

"What are you working on?" you asked one such night, taking a seat beside him as you watched him with glowing eyes, watched the blade he was carving away at carefully and tenderly.

"A gift."

You raised your brows, a smirk upon your lips.

"Oh?"

"For Quizhong. The Primordial Jade Cutter - is what I'll name it."

You could not help but feel your ears droop at his words.

"I'm sure she'll love it once she receives it," you said with a longing smile, sliding your fingers against it's blade gently before rising to your feet and sauntering away, your tails flickering behind you in a forced display of pleased satisfaction.

You watched the gift left ungiven, encased in glass on display. You recalled when Morax, dripping with the anger of grief, picked up the newly finished sword and rushed into battle clutching it - cutting down countless enemies.

Despite that, the green glow it emitted was still that of a brand-new blade - truly a pure and beautiful blade carved with the utmost care and affection.

Some nights you were a bit more bitter over it - not once in the centuries you'd known Morax, not even the ones where you shared tender kisses and embraces, had he gifted anything like that to you - nothing carved with his own hands - once wrathful and brutal, forced to be gentle as they poured over a gift from the heart.

On those nights, you would slip out of your abode and wander the streets of Liyue, feeling weighed down with guilt for your selfish feelings. Every time, you managed to end up on Yuijing terrace, watching the glaze lilies growing within the carefully planned flowerbeds. They were no longer the wild lilies of Guizhong - the last of those had withered away long ago - but they were the closest to it. On those nights, you'd caress the petals with a somber expression, letting unvoiced apologies linger in your mind before returning back home, Morax seemingly none the wiser to your comings and goings, immersed in his work.

"Are you sure about this?" you asked somberly as you finished listening to Morax's plan of stepping down as an Archon. Giving up the seat that you had shed so much blood to attain. The seat that signified loss of a life too precious and gentle - whisked away by the wind in the form of the dust she presided over.

Morax nodded, squeezing your hands gently in his. His horns and tail long hidden as he assumed a more human form. Something you had followed him in doing, faithful to follow him wherever he led you.

"Then I will do my best to aid you, my dear."

And so you did. Your powers were those of shapeshifting, of morphing items into something anew and tricking others with the ease and grace of a leaping feline.

The Exuvia was more than convincing enough for the crowds below, and even you, despite being the one to conjure it up, could not help the tinge of fear within you as you watched this copy of your beloved plummet into the ground with an ungraceful thud. You hoped sincerely you would never have to see such a vision come to life in reality - you had long since set aside your weapons, but you would not hesitate to grab them again to protect the few loved ones you still had left.

Zhongli was now the name Morax donned - assuming the position of a consultant in the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, providing graceful and wise advice to all that required it. It was a fitting position, you bemused - a work surrounded by grief that the both of you still wore heavily upon your hearts.

Sometimes, you visited him to bring him lunch or anything else you thought he might require - like the dutiful spouse everyone assumed you to be. You supposed the word was not quite far from the truth, but your union was far more than that. Still, mortals could not comprehend the strength of such bonds, so you settled for a smile and a nod when asked if you were there to visit your husband.

On occasion, you could hear him tell customers the tales of the war, an expert storyteller as he was. Not once did he fail to mention the gentle and kind Guizhong, a far-off look in his eyes as he recalled her memory fondly.

It was moments like those that you felt the pain hit deepest. Moments when you wished that it had been you who had been struck down as fate had intended it to. Guizhong had meddled with fate, had brought eons of unhappiness and sorrow upon you and Zhongli.

You wondered, sometimes, when Zhongli brushed his lips against yours tenderly, his eyes closed and his hands gently cupping your face, if he thought so too. If he wished, on nights alone as he allowed the bitter memories to wash over him, that your lifeline had been severed that fateful day.

Of course, you knew he would never admit to such thoughts, he wouldn't even admit them to himself, you were sure - but a mind could still wonder. Especially when he stood before the Jade blade encased in glass, a distant look upon his features.

It hurt.

And you felt selfish for hurting, when it had been your own carelessness that had brought this pain upon you and Zhongli both.

You could no longer stand it. No longer stand the wistful gaze in Zhongli's eyes as he spoke of Guizhong to the Traveler, as he recalled the times he dined with her and Cloud Retainer and as he praised the memory of her wits and the gentleness of her pure soul.

You decided you would do anything to right the wrong you had been living within for far too long.

You turned to research, to prayers dedicated to Celestia - to anything that might help you achieve your goal of bringing back the dear friend you had allowed to wither away and flow away as nothing more than particles of dust.

Countless days, weeks, months passed - and if Zhongli noticed the distance you put between the two of you, he failed to mention it. Perhaps he even enjoyed the space you finally gave him. After all, it had been you who had refused to leave him be since the beginning of time.

Perhaps if you had not stuck to his side like an incessant thorn, Guizhong would be by his side, holding his hand and bathing in his kisses.

Your efforts did not go to waste. You stood upon the empty Guili plains, the moon above lighting the ruins of what once was a great civilization. Your hands were clasped together in prayer as you sank to your knees, allowing the coolness of the ground to seep into your bones as you pleaded quietly for reprieve.

Celestia finally answered your call, sending down an envoy cloaked in shimmering stardust - radiating with energy far more divine than that of your own.

"Little fox," the envoy spoke, their voice light but holding the weight of knowledge and power within it.

"Your pleas have not gone unheard and what you ask is not impossible to achieve," they spoke and you stared up at them in awe, feeling a flicker of hope within your chest.

"Quizhong has rested long enough in the embrace of Celestia - and we are sure she would not mind returning home."

You felt as though you could float, a happiness coated in pain washing over you.

"But tell me, little fox - do you believe truly that you are undeserving of your lot in life?"

You blinked away tears and nodded.

"You are foolish, little fox - but your wish will be granted. Celestia simply hopes you will overcome your blindness and learn to see the truth of your worth."

You cared not for the meaning behind those words - all that mattered was that Guizhong would make her return. You swallowed bitter, selfish tears as you already pictured your beloved in the arms of another - the one he deserved to have. The one you had forced him to say goodbye to.

The sun beamed down upon the harbor with a happiness and warmth that you had not felt in far too long. You browsed the marketplace in silence, maneuvering the crowds as you gathered ingredients for the dinner you had planned that very evening. It had been a while since your talk with the envoy of Celestia - but you knew better than to doubt the promises of those above you, so you were patiently biding your time until the return of your beloved friend.

You hummed a gentle tune to yourself, idly wondering what Zhongli was doing - was he still busy with work, or was he ready to take a lunch break? You thought it best to buy him a little meal and began to wade through the busy streets to approach the funeral parlor, only to be stopped in your tracks as you saw a familiar face within the sea of people.

A beautiful face, with eyes wise beyond the years of its apparent youth, flowing long hair set into a beautifully simple updo and an an air of elegance that could only belong to one. You stared in awe at her beauty - the glaze lilies set into her hair and crowning her in angelic glory as she almost seemed to float through the crowds - they're all but the clouds she ruled over wisely as she studied her surroundings with a curious joy.

You felt tears of joy well up in your eyes as you saw her.

Celestia had granted your wish.

You wished to dash through the crowds, to run into her arms and shower her in endless apologies and affection - but when you searched the ever flowing sea of people, your eyes froze on another familiar figure.

Dark hair set in a low ponytail - perfectly ironed coat and an air of impeccable neatness and perfection coating him. You saw him - saw as his eyes locked with those of the beautiful goddess. You saw the way a warm recognition washed over his stony face - his lips forming a wide smile upon his face as he surged forward.

You tried to suppress the selfish sadness brimming in your heart and eyes, the tears gently rolling down your cheeks as you saw two friends united at last - arms wrapping around each other in a tender embrace.

You knew very well when you were not needed - so you turned quietly and headed back towards your abode, a firm yet difficult decision made in your mind.

You had pretended to be someone you were not for far too long - it was time you made yourself scarce. You ignored the concerned glances of the citizens you passed as you walked - more like staggered - towards the place you had called home for a long time. Of course people would talk, would gossip about the spouse of the beloved Zhongli's spouse walking home in tears before shortly disappearing from Liyue, leaving behind a smitten consultant and a new companion of his.

You simply hoped they'd be kind to Guizhong. Humans were far too simple at times.

Zhongli rushed towards the abode he shared with his beloved carelessly, an uncharacteristic joy to his movements as he waded through people, eager to share the wonderful news with them.

He had ran into Guizhong's arms, her soothing aura washing over him as he simply asked her how. She had known no more than him - only that Celestia had deemed her worthy of returning to the lands of the living.

He cared not for the specifics - one of the closest friends he had had was back - and he could not wait to share the news. He had made her wait for him - him and (Name) at Third-Round Knockout, promising her that they could all once again share a meal together as friends and companions.

"Have you finally made your move, Morax?" Guizhong asked, a sly smile upon her innocent features.

He chuckled.

"I suppose I have."

"Good. I feared you'd be too much of a coward too, Lord of Geo."

When he arrived to his abode it was quiet - eerily so. No aroma of simmering food lingered in the air, and there was a strange emptiness in the rooms as he wandered in, a few objects missing here and there.

A quiet dread arose in his chest.

"(Name)?" he called out, his brows furrowed as he felt a surge of panic within him - a panic he had only felt once before, when his beloved was to be slashed by a long gone god aiming to end their life.

There was no answer.

He rushed through the rooms of his luxurious abode, cold sweat forming upon his body as he reached their shared bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, and he could hear a faint muffled sniffle coming from within.

Slowly, he pushed the door open, stepping into the room.

You had taken on your animal form, tails curled around yourself protectively and your ears pinned back in a display of sadness - the air heavy with emotions he had not seen or felt you experience in eons - your home usually filled with gentle harmony.

He swallowed heavily as he saw the bag before you, filled with the few items you cared for - to take with you as a shard of memories to remind you of the years you had spent with Zhongli - with Morax. A last act of selfishness you allowed yourself.

"(Name)?" he quietly addressed you, his voice strained as he watched what was you undoubtedly preparing to leave - without a word to him, no less.

You whipped around, your eyes wide as you met his.

"Zhongli," you whispered shakily, ashamed to be caught in the act.

"Where are you going..?" he questioned, his eyes glued to your belongings and eyes filled with an unfamiliar desperation.

"I don't know, yet," you answered, lowering your gaze to the wooden floor below your paws.

He approached gently, crouching before you as he reached out his hand to stroke your face.

"Why?" his voice was small, desparate.

He had only just regained a companion - only to lose his lover the very next moment? Was the world truly that unjust?

"I didn't want to be in the way of you and Guizhong," you replied, looking away with a bitter tinge of sadness to your voice.

"You know she's back?"

"I was the one who demanded Celestia return her to you."

He stared at you in both shock and awe.

"What do you mean you didn't want to be in the way?" he asked slowly, feeling dread rise within his chest once more as his voice cracked.

Without fanfare, you assumed your more human form once more, your eyes watering and clumping together your wet lashes, blurring your vision as you tried to find the words to explain your feelings - feelings buried under centuries, wars and carefully constructed facades - all crumbling before the man you had always loved.

"I...saw how you looked at her - back then I mean." More tears rolled across your face as the dam finally broke.

Stupid, treacherous, selfish tears.

He was eerily quiet as he watched you crumble before him, you who had always kept his spirits high when he was in pain, always knew what to say or do to soothe him. However, he realized in a horrifying moment - he had no idea what to say to you.

"You loved her. And it was my fault she died," you hiccupped, letting go of any pride you may have held.

Your teary eyes met his - scared and filled with emotion you could not quite decipher.

"(Name)-"

You shook your head, forcing yourself to smile bitterly - it was a pathetic sight and you were well aware of it, but you could do little else to reign in the pain.

"I was supposed to die that day - and I would have gladly done so. I always wished I did - and I know you would never admit it, but you did too."

His hands clutched your shoulders suddenly, shaking as he gripped them tight.

"(Name) - that's not true," he spoke sternly, choosing to ignore the way his own voice wavered.

You let out a sound - a mix between a sob and a laugh as you stared into his eyes.

"Don't lie to me, Morax. I've known you longer than anyone - you should not attempt to deceive the god of trickery." You inhaled and exhaled shakily.

"I never deserved your affection - I was selfish in accepting it. I knew you wanted me to be her - you've never looked at anyone else like you looked at her. But I was selfish, and I was hurting too. I'm sorry for using you like that."

His brows furrowed as the weight of your words hit him - crashing into him like the boulders he had used to destroy his enemies with a fierce anger.

"It's you who has tricked yourself, (Name)." His gloved hand stroked your face gently, wiping at the streams of tears flowing across it aimlessly as he stared into your eyes.

"I've never loved Guizhong," he muttered, placing his forehead against yours as his mind frantically searched for the right words to say - the words that could soothe the pain of the burden you had been carrying in your heart for far too long.

"Not more than a close friend."

You stared into his eyes, sniffling.

"But..."

"Have you really been blind to the way my heart beats only for you - after the thousands of years we have known you?" He pulled you close, burying your face in his clothed chest, ignoring the way your tears soaked through the pristine cloth of his suit and shirt.

"I..."

"Guizhong was the one who had to listen to my incessant ramblings about how beautiful and wonderful you were, the one who kept trying to make me tell you. But I was foolish and stubborn. It took her death to make me realize that within a bling of an eye - I could lose you too. I almost did - that day," his words conveyed more emotion than you had heard him do in all the time you had known him. He had buried it deep down, hoping he could show them, instead - but he had failed in that, as well.

He buried his face in your hair, taking in a shaky breath and inhaling your scent - you, who smelled like home. Like comfort, like love.

You were in stunned silence.

Had you really been blind to the truth all this time? You who had prided yourself in seeing past facades and being able to deceive anyone at will. Had you willingly deceived yourself, hiding the truth?

"But she's a far better match for you than I could ever hope to be," you whispered, your voice muffled by his chest. You felt him tense.

He pulled away, cupping your face with a desperation you had only seen once before.

"You are a fool, (Name), if you think anyone would be a better match for me than you," he sighed, wishing he could simply bare his heart and show you all that he felt in his old, guarded heart.

"I strived to become stronger for you. I learned to reign in my temper, for you. Everything I did - I hoped it would impress you - from the very moment we met."

In that moment, with those words pouring from his lips, he was a young adeptus once more, chasing the fleeting and teasing attention of a fox god who called him immature.

You stretched out your hand towards his face hesitantly, resting your warm palm upon his cheek. He pressed it against your hand, an earnest youthful glow in his old, wise eyes.

"I love you, and only you, (Name). And I always have, you silly fox."

You released another choked laugh infused with a whimper, sniffling as you attempted to control the stupid tears flowing from your eyes.

"Morax... I feel so foolish, now," you whispered, a sniffle caught in your throat as you lowered your head, hand slipping from his face into your lap.

"I'm the fool for not realizing how you felt sooner. All this time, you'd been thinking lowly of yourself - and I never even took note." He sighed and pressed your figure closer to himself.

"I suppose we're both a couple of old, bitter fools, then."

He huffed in amusement, tickling the strands of your hair in doing so.

"I suppose we are," he sighed, pressing a gentle kiss upon your forehead when your face emerged from his face to look up at him, eyes still red and puffy.

You closed your eyes, allowing them reprieve from the crying. You felt a wave of exhaustion wash over you as Zhongli leaned down to capture your lips with his own, his touch ever so gentle as he stroked your face, wiping away the last remains of tears still lingering upon your face.

"I love you," you whispered as you opened your eyes.

He smiled at you - a smile he had never before allowed another but you to witness - sweet, vulnerable and full of thousands of years of adoration.

"I love you too, my dear."

This one was really fun to write! I read SO much genshin lore for this and I feel like I def missed some things, but I tried my best. Relationships are complicated, man. And writing this made me Feel Things. I hope you guys enjoy this one, though!!

1K notes View Post

that-jax

6 months ago

Thicker Than Blood

Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc’s Ex!Reader

Summary: you didn’t think things could get worse after your long-time (ex) boyfriend chose his team over you … until you see those two pink lines, but little do you know that his rival will soon prove that a found family can be thicker than blood

Warnings: includes depictions of labor complications and Jos Verstappen

Based on this request

“Charles, this isn’t funny.”

You’re half-smiling, half-laughing, like you’re expecting him to crack any second and say something ridiculous, something that would make you roll your eyes and shake your head at his poor attempt at a joke.

But he doesn’t. He just stands there, his eyes fixed on you with a seriousness that makes your stomach twist.

“Charles,” you repeat, the laugh in your voice now entirely gone. “What are you talking about?”

He runs a hand through his hair, the way he does when he’s trying to find the right words, but they’re all jumbled up in his head. You know this Charles. This is the Charles who struggles when things aren’t easy, when he has to explain something he doesn’t want to. But this … this is different.

“We need to break up.” The words come out so softly, so carefully, like he’s afraid of them. But they hit you hard, a punch in the gut that leaves you breathless.

You blink, trying to process what he’s just said, but it doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t fit. You and Charles are solid. You’ve been through everything together — the highs, the lows, the uncertain days before he was anything more than just another young driver trying to make it in the big leagues. And now, after all this time, after everything, he’s telling you this?

You shake your head. “No. No, we don’t.”

“Yes, we do,” he says, his voice firmer now, like he’s trying to convince himself as much as you.

“Charles, no,” you say, your voice rising, a mixture of panic and disbelief. “What the hell are you talking about? Where is this coming from?”

He sighs, a long, weary sound, and looks away from you, his gaze falling to the floor as if he can’t bear to meet your eyes. “It’s not what I want,” he says quietly.

“Then why?” You demand, stepping closer to him, trying to catch his eye, to pull him back to you. “Why are you saying this? We’re fine, Charles. We’re good. What’s going on?”

He finally looks at you, and the pain in his eyes makes your heart skip a beat. “It’s not about us,” he says, his voice almost breaking. “It’s … it’s the team. Ferrari.”

“What?” You say, blinking in confusion. “What does Ferrari have to do with us?”

“They … they think it’s better if I’m single,” he says, each word forced out like it’s costing him something. “For my image. For the brand.”

You stare at him, your mouth open, but no words come out. You’re frozen, your mind struggling to catch up to the words he’s just said, to the reality he’s trying to force on you. “You’re breaking up with me … because of Ferrari?”

He nods slowly, miserably, like he hates himself for it. “It’s complicated,” he says, trying to make it sound like it’s not the most absurd thing you’ve ever heard.

“No, it’s not,” you shoot back, the anger finally starting to break through the shock. “This isn’t complicated, Charles. This is insane. You can’t seriously be telling me that you’re ending things because some PR team thinks it’ll be better for your career.”

“They’re not just some PR team,” he says, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his voice. “They know what they’re doing. They’ve seen the numbers and the trends. They know what’s best for the brand … for me.”

“And what about us?” You ask, your voice cracking despite your best efforts to keep it steady. “What about everything we’ve been through? Everything we’ve built together? You’re just going to throw that away because someone told you to?”

He winces, like your words are physically hurting him, but he doesn’t back down. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like? Because from where I’m standing, it looks a hell of a lot like you’re choosing your career over me.”

His silence is deafening. You can see the conflict in his eyes, the way he’s struggling with what he’s saying, but he’s not fighting it. He’s not fighting for you, and that realization hits you harder than anything else.

“Why now?” You ask, your voice softer now, the fight starting to drain out of you. “Why are you doing this now?”

“It’s just … it’s the timing,” he says, fumbling for an explanation that makes sense. “The season’s starting, there’s so much pressure. They think it’ll be easier if I’m not-”

“If you’re not what? Tied down?” You snap, the words laced with bitterness. “Is that what they told you? That you’ll be better off without me weighing you down?”

“That’s not how they put it,” he says, but there’s no conviction in his voice.

You feel tears pricking at your eyes, but you blink them away, refusing to let them fall. You won’t cry. Not now. Not here. “Charles, we’ve been together for years,” you say, your voice trembling. “We’ve been through everything together. And now you’re telling me that none of that matters? That all of that gets erased because it doesn’t fit with Ferrari’s brand?”

“I don’t want to do this,” he says, his voice breaking, his eyes pleading with you to understand.

“Then don’t,” you plead back, stepping closer to him, reaching out to take his hand, but he pulls away, and the rejection stings.

“I have to,” he says, his voice barely a whisper.

You shake your head, trying to make sense of the senseless. “How can you say that? How can you just … give up on us like this?”

“I’m not giving up,” he insists, but it sounds hollow, even to him. “It’s just … it’s not forever. It’s just for now, just to get through the season. Then we can figure things out, we can-”

“You can’t be serious,” you interrupt, the tears finally spilling over despite your best efforts. “You think I’m just going to wait around for you to decide when it’s convenient for you to be with me again? You think that’s how this works?”

He doesn’t respond, just looks at you with that same pained expression, and it’s enough to break your heart all over again.

“Charles, please,” you whisper, one last attempt to reach him, to get him to see reason, to see you. “Don’t do this. We can figure something out. We always do.”

But he’s already shaking his head, and you know, deep down, that he’s already made up his mind. “I’m sorry,” he says, and you can hear the finality in his voice, the way he’s closing the door on this, on you.

You stare at him, the boy you’ve known for so long, the man you’ve loved for years, and it feels like he’s slipping away from you, like he’s already gone. “You really think this is what’s best for you?” You ask, your voice hollow, defeated.

“It’s not about what’s best for me,” he says, and you almost laugh at the irony of it.

“Then what is it about, Charles?” you ask, but you’re not sure you even want to know the answer.

“It’s about … what’s best for everyone,” he says, but even he doesn’t sound convinced.

You take a step back, the distance between you growing, and it feels like a chasm opening up, one you can’t cross. “I never thought you’d be someone who’d let other people decide what’s best for you,” you say quietly.

He flinches at that, and for a moment, you think you’ve gotten through to him, that he’ll take it back, that he’ll realize how ridiculous this all is. But he doesn’t. He just stands there, looking at you with those sad eyes, and you know it’s over.

“Goodbye, Charles,” you say, your voice breaking on the last syllable.

“Goodbye,” he whispers back, but it’s lost in the sound of your footsteps as you turn and walk away, leaving him — and everything you’ve built together — behind.

***

The morning sun filters through the curtains, casting a soft, golden light over the room, but it does nothing to warm the cold knot in your stomach. You’ve been feeling off for days now — nauseous, tired, the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that sleep doesn’t seem to touch.

And the vomiting. It started a few days ago, just once or twice, but now it’s every morning, like clockwork.

You sit up slowly, careful not to move too fast, but it’s too late. The wave of nausea hits, and you barely make it to the bathroom before you’re hunched over the toilet, retching until there’s nothing left. You stay there for a moment, gripping the edge of the sink, trying to steady your breathing, trying to make sense of what’s happening to you.

It’s just stress, you tell yourself. The breakup, the uncertainty of everything, it’s all finally catching up to you. But even as you think it, you know it’s not true. This is different. This is something else.

You rinse your mouth, the taste of bile lingering, and catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You look pale, drawn, like you haven’t slept in days. Your eyes are dull, shadows lurking beneath them, and there’s a tightness around your mouth that wasn’t there before. You almost don’t recognize the person staring back at you.

As you leave the bathroom, your mind races through the possibilities, trying to find some logical explanation. Maybe it’s a bug, something you ate. Maybe it’s …

You stop in your tracks, the thought slamming into you with all the subtlety of a freight train. No. It can’t be. It’s impossible. But as you think back, counting the days in your head, you realize it’s not impossible. In fact, it’s very possible.

You sink onto the edge of the bed, your heart pounding in your chest. It’s been weeks since … since Charles broke up with you. Since you last … Oh God.

The realization leaves you cold, your skin prickling with fear. There’s only one way to know for sure, but the very thought of it makes your throat tighten, your heart race even faster.

You can’t. You can’t be.

But there’s a part of you — a small, terrified part — that knows you need to find out. You can’t just ignore this, hope it goes away. You need to know. Now.

The walk to the pharmacy is a blur. You barely register the people around you, the sun beating down on your back as you make your way through the streets. It feels like everyone is looking at you, like they know what you’re about to do, but you push the thought aside, focusing on the task at hand.

Inside, the air is cool, the fluorescent lights harsh as you make your way to the back, where the pregnancy tests are lined up in neat rows. You stand there for what feels like forever, your eyes scanning the shelves, your hand hovering over the different options, but you can’t bring yourself to reach out and grab one.

“Can I help you with something?”

The voice startles you, and you turn to see a woman in a white pharmacy coat standing beside you, her expression polite but curious.

You force a smile, shaking your head. “No, I’m fine. Just … looking.”

She nods, but doesn’t move away, and you feel a flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck. You need to do this, and you need to do it now.

Taking a deep breath, you grab the first box you see, then another, then a third, just to be sure. You avoid the woman’s gaze as you make your way to the register, your heart hammering in your chest as you hand over the boxes, praying she doesn’t say anything.

She doesn’t. She just rings you up, sliding the tests into a small paper bag before handing it to you with a neutral smile. “Good luck,” she says, and you can’t tell if she means it or if it’s just something she says to everyone.

“Thanks,” you mumble, grabbing the bag and hurrying out of the store, the door chiming as you leave.

Back in your apartment, the silence is deafening. The tests sit on the counter, staring up at you, and you can’t bring yourself to move, to do what needs to be done. But you know you have to. You can’t put this off any longer.

Finally, you reach for the bag, pulling out one of the boxes, your hands trembling as you tear it open. The instructions are simple enough — pee on the stick, wait three minutes, then check the result. But as you hold the test in your hand, you realize those three minutes are going to be the longest of your life.

You follow the instructions, then set the test on the counter, stepping back like it’s something dangerous, something that could hurt you if you get too close. You glance at the clock, the seconds ticking by at an excruciatingly slow pace, and you force yourself to breathe, to stay calm.

But calm is impossible. Your mind is racing, a thousand thoughts and fears tumbling over each other in a chaotic mess. What if it’s positive? What if it’s not? What will you do? How will you handle this? You’re alone now — Charles is gone, and he’s not coming back. You’re on your own.

The minutes crawl by, and finally, you can’t wait any longer. You step forward, your heart in your throat, and pick up the test, your eyes locking onto the small window where the result will appear.

Two lines.

Positive.

You stare at it, uncomprehending, your mind struggling to process what you’re seeing. You pick up the second test, the third, repeating the process with shaking hands, hoping against hope that the first was a mistake, a fluke. But the results are the same. Two lines. Positive.

You’re pregnant.

The realization crashes over you like a wave, and you sink to the floor, the tests clattering out of your hands as you press your palms to your stomach, feeling the beginnings of a life growing inside you. A baby. Charles’ baby.

Tears blur your vision, and you don’t know if they’re from fear, from shock, or from something else entirely. You never thought you’d be here — sitting on your bathroom floor, alone, pregnant, and terrified of what comes next.

This isn’t how it was supposed to be. You were supposed to have Charles by your side, holding your hand, telling you everything would be okay.

But he’s not here. And now, you have to figure out what to do next. You have to figure out how to take care of yourself, how to take care of this baby.

You drag yourself to your feet, your legs weak, and stumble into the living room, collapsing onto the couch as the weight of it all presses down on you. How did this happen? How did you end up here, in this mess, with no one to turn to?

Your mind drifts back to the day Charles convinced you to quit your job. He’d said it was for the best, that you didn’t need to work, that he’d take care of you. He wanted you with him at the races, wanted you by his side, supporting him, and you’d agreed, because of course you did. You loved him. You trusted him.

And now … now you have nothing. No job, no income, no safety net. Just a positive pregnancy test and a future that feels terrifyingly uncertain.

You wipe at your eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath. You can’t afford to fall apart. Not now. You have to be strong, for yourself, for the baby. You need to figure out what to do next.

You reach for your phone, your fingers trembling as you pull up a job search website. There has to be something — anything — that can get you back on your feet. But as you scroll through the listings, your heart sinks. You’re overqualified for some, underqualified for others. You haven’t worked in years, and the gaps in your resume feel like gaping wounds that no employer would overlook.

Finally, something catches your eye—an ad for a cleaning agency. It’s not glamorous, it’s not what you imagined for yourself, but it’s work. It’s a start. And right now, that’s all you need.

You tap the number on the screen, your heart racing as you bring the phone to your ear. It rings once, twice, three times, and you start to think no one will pick up. But then, a voice crackles through the line.

“Hello, CleanSweep Agency. How can I help you?”

You swallow hard, your voice trembling as you reply. “Hi, I … I’m calling about the job listing. The cleaning position.”

There’s a pause on the other end, and you hold your breath, waiting.

“Yes, of course. Are you available for an interview tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” you repeat, your mind racing. “Yes. Yes, I can do that.”

“Great. We’ll see you at 10 AM. Our office is on Rue de la Paix. Just bring your resume and any references you might have.”

“Thank you,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper as the call ends.

You stare at the phone in your hand, the reality of what you’ve just done settling over you. You’ve taken the first step. It’s not much, but it’s something. It’s a start.

But as you sit there, the weight of everything presses down on you again. You’re pregnant. You’re alone. And the path ahead feels impossibly daunting.

You place your phone on the coffee table, staring at it like it might offer you some kind of solution, some way out of this mess. But it’s just a phone, and the reality of your situation doesn’t change.

The room is too quiet, the kind of quiet that seeps into your bones and amplifies every fear, every doubt. You wish you could call someone, talk to someone, but who? Your friends? They’d be supportive, sure, but they wouldn’t really understand. Your parents? The thought of telling them is too overwhelming to even consider right now.

Charles? The name echoes in your mind, but you shake your head. He’s the last person you should be calling. He made his choice, and you need to respect that. Besides, what would you even say? That you’re pregnant? That his decision to break up with you for the sake of his image has left you in a situation neither of you ever expected?

No. You can’t go there. Not now.

You push yourself off the couch, pacing the small living room, trying to clear your mind. You have a job interview tomorrow. It’s not much, but it’s something. You can’t afford to think beyond that right now. You need to focus on getting through the next day, the next hour.

The baby. The thought is like a knife in your chest, sharp and painful. You press a hand to your stomach, trying to imagine what comes next, how you’ll navigate this new, terrifying reality. But the truth is, you have no idea. You’re scared, more scared than you’ve ever been, and the future feels like a black hole, pulling you in with no clear way out.

But you have to keep going. For yourself. For the baby.

You head to the bedroom, opening the closet to find something suitable for the interview. Your clothes feel foreign, relics from a past life that doesn’t quite fit anymore. You settle on something simple, professional, trying to ignore the gnawing fear that none of this will be enough.

You sit on the edge of the bed, the clothes laid out beside you, and take a deep breath. Tomorrow is a new day. A new start. You don’t know what’s coming, but you do know one thing: you’re not going to give up. Not now, not ever.

And as the night settles in around you, you cling to that thought like a lifeline, hoping it will be enough to carry you through whatever comes next.

***

Max pushes open the door to his Monaco apartment, dropping his keys on the console table with a tired sigh. The morning training session has left his muscles aching, and all he can think about is a long, hot shower and maybe a quick nap before the next round of meetings and commitments.

As he steps inside, he’s greeted by the familiar scent of cleaning supplies — a smell that’s become synonymous with Tuesdays, the day his cleaner comes to tidy up.

He doesn’t usually pay much attention to her, exchanging only a few polite words if their paths cross. She’s efficient, quiet, never in the way. But today, something feels different the moment he steps into the living room. The sound of soft scrubbing reaches his ears, and he glances toward the source — his gaze falling on a figure kneeling by the coffee table, wiping down the glass surface.

It takes him a second to register what he’s seeing, but when he does, he freezes, his breath catching in his throat. It’s not just any cleaner — it’s you. And you’re pregnant. Very pregnant.

“Holy shit,” he mutters under his breath, the shock rolling over him in waves. For a moment, he wonders if he’s seeing things, if the exhaustion has finally caught up with him and he’s imagining things. But no — there’s no mistaking it. It’s you, and you’re here, in his apartment, on your hands and knees, cleaning.

You look up at the sound of his voice, your eyes widening in surprise. For a moment, neither of you says anything, both too stunned to speak. Then, slowly, you rise to your feet, one hand resting protectively on your rounded belly as you try to compose yourself.

“Max,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, like you can’t quite believe he’s standing there.

“What … what the hell are you doing here?” He asks, his voice rough with confusion and something else — something darker, angrier, that he can’t quite put into words yet.

You blink, looking down at the rag in your hand as if seeing it for the first time. “I … I work here,” you say quietly, your tone laced with embarrassment.

“Work here?” Max repeats, his mind racing to catch up. “What do you mean, work here? You’re … you’re pregnant! Why the hell are you cleaning my apartment?”

You flinch at his words, and he immediately regrets the sharpness in his tone, but the sight of you — pregnant, exhausted, and clearly struggling — ignites a fury in him that he hasn’t felt in a long time. “What the fuck is Charles doing, making you work like this?”

At the mention of Charles, something in you seems to break. Your face crumples, and before Max can process what’s happening, you’re crying — really crying, your shoulders shaking with the force of your sobs.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Max says quickly, closing the distance between you and reaching out to steady you. “I didn’t mean to — look, just sit down, okay? You shouldn’t be on your feet like this.”

You let him guide you to the couch, your tears falling freely now, and Max feels a pang of guilt deep in his chest. He’s never been good with tears, but seeing you like this, so vulnerable and hurt, stirs something protective in him.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out between sobs, your hands covering your face as if trying to hide your pain. “I didn’t want you to see me like this. I didn’t want anyone to see me like this.”

Max sits beside you, his mind spinning as he tries to make sense of what’s happening. This is all wrong. You shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be working some labor-intensive job, not in your condition. And where the hell is Charles in all of this? How could he let you get to this point?

“What’s going on?” Max asks gently, reaching for a box of tissues and handing it to you. “Why are you working here? What happened with Charles?”

You take a tissue, dabbing at your eyes, but the tears keep coming, and Max’s concern deepens. He’s never seen you like this before — so defeated, so broken.

“It’s … it’s over,” you manage to say, your voice trembling. “Charles and I… we broke up. Seven months ago.”

Max’s heart drops at your words, and a sick feeling churns in his stomach. He’d heard rumors, of course — whispers in the paddock, speculation in the media — but he’d never imagined it was true. He’d seen how much Charles loved you, how much you meant to him. But now, seeing you like this, the reality of it hits him like a punch to the gut.

“Why?” He asks, though he’s not sure he wants to know the answer.

You take a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. “He said … he said it was for the best. That the team thought he’d be more marketable if he was single. That it would be better for his image.”

Max feels a surge of anger flare up inside him, hot and fierce. “He broke up with you because of PR? Are you kidding me?”

You nod, and Max can see the pain in your eyes, the betrayal that still lingers there. “I didn’t know what to do. I … I didn’t have a job. I quit when we started traveling together, and now … now I’m on my own. I have to take care of myself, and …” You glance down at your belly, your voice breaking again. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Max runs a hand through his hair, trying to process everything you’ve just told him. Charles left you — pregnant and alone — all because of some bullshit advice from his team? The thought makes his blood boil. He’s known Charles for years, seen him under pressure, seen him at his best and his worst, but this … this is something else entirely.

“Does he even know?” Max asks, his voice low, trying to keep his temper in check. “Does he know you’re pregnant?”

You shake your head, fresh tears spilling over. “I haven’t told him. I couldn’t … I couldn’t face him. And I don’t want to force him into something he doesn’t want. He made his choice.”

Max sits back, stunned. He can’t believe what he’s hearing. You’ve been going through this all on your own, with no support, no help. And now you’re cleaning apartments just to make ends meet? It’s too much. He can’t let this go on.

“Listen,” Max says, his voice firm, though he softens it when he sees the way you’re looking at him, like you’re about to fall apart. “You’re not doing this alone, okay? You shouldn’t have to.”

You look at him, eyes wide, searching his face as if trying to figure out if he means it. “Max, I don’t want to be a burden-”

“You’re not,” he interrupts, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re not a burden. You’re my friend. And you’re … you’re carrying a child. That’s not something you should be dealing with on your own.”

“But what about Charles?” You ask, your voice small, uncertain.

“Fuck Charles,” Max snaps, then immediately regrets it when he sees the look on your face. “I mean … look, I know this is complicated. But right now, you need to take care of yourself and the baby. That’s the priority. And if Charles isn’t going to step up, then I will. Whatever you need, I’m here, okay?”

You’re silent for a moment, and Max can see the conflict in your eyes — the fear, the doubt, the overwhelming sense of helplessness. He wishes he could do more, that he could take away the pain, the uncertainty, but all he can do is be there for you, in whatever way you’ll let him.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “I … I didn’t know who else to turn to.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Max says gently. “Just … promise me you won’t try to do this on your own anymore. You’re not alone, okay? Not as long as I’m around.”

You nod, but Max can see the hesitation still lingering in your eyes. He knows this isn’t going to be easy for you — to accept help, to let someone else in — but he’s determined to be there for you, to make sure you don’t have to face this alone.

“Come on,” he says, standing up and holding out a hand to you. “Let’s get you something to eat. You need to take care of yourself, and that means no more scrubbing floors, okay?”

You take his hand, allowing him to help you to your feet, and for the first time since he walked through the door, Max sees a faint glimmer of hope in your eyes. It’s not much, but it’s a start.

As he leads you to the kitchen, Max’s mind races with everything he needs to do, everything he needs to figure out. But one thing is clear — he’s not going to let you go through this alone.

***

Max sets a plate in front of you — a simple sandwich, some fruit on the side. He’s not exactly a chef, but it’s something, and he watches as you take a bite, the tension in your shoulders easing just a little. You look exhausted, and Max wonders how long you’ve been running on empty like this.

He pulls out the chair across from you and sits down, his eyes never leaving your face. “So,” he begins, trying to keep his tone light, “tell me everything. What’s been going on since … since Charles, you know …”

You pause, swallowing the bite of sandwich, and Max can see the flicker of pain in your eyes at the mention of Charles. It’s like you’re bracing yourself to tell the story, and Max hates that it’s something you even have to relive.

“It’s been … hard,” you admit, setting the sandwich down. “After we broke up, I didn’t know what to do. I had some savings, but it wasn’t enough to keep living in Monaco. So I had to move.”

“Move?” Max echoes, his brows furrowing. He hadn’t heard anything about this, hadn’t realized things had gotten so bad for you. “Where did you go?”

You hesitate, as if ashamed to tell him, but then you sigh, the words spilling out in a rush. “I found a small place in France. It’s about an hour away. A tiny village. I couldn’t afford to stay here, not without a steady income.”

Max feels a pang of guilt, like he should have known, should have done something sooner. “You’re commuting to Monaco every day for work? That’s crazy.”

You shrug, a faint, humorless smile tugging at your lips. “It’s not ideal, but it’s what I had to do. I tried looking for jobs closer to home, but nothing paid enough. And I didn’t have many options, not with the baby coming.”

Max leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. The thought of you struggling like this, traveling back and forth every day, working a physically demanding job while pregnant — it’s almost too much to bear.

He wishes he could just write you a check, cover all your expenses, but he knows you too well. You’d never accept it, not without a fight. You’re proud, stubborn, and fiercely independent — qualities Max admires but wishes you’d set aside just this once.

“You shouldn’t have to do this alone,” Max says softly, his voice filled with concern. “I know you’re strong, but you don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Especially not now.”

You meet his gaze, your eyes reflecting a mix of gratitude and exhaustion. “I know, but … I need to be able to take care of myself, Max. I need to know I can do this, for me and the baby.”

Max nods, understanding even though it frustrates him. You’ve always been this way — determined to stand on your own two feet, no matter what. But that doesn’t mean he’s just going to stand by and watch you struggle. There has to be a way to help you without making you feel like a charity case.

Then, an idea starts to form in his mind, something he remembers from the past, from the days when you were always by Charles’ side, supporting him in ways most people never even saw. “You know,” Max starts, leaning forward, “I remember how you used to help Charles with his social media. His accounts were always engaging, relatable … fans loved it. That was you, wasn’t it?”

A small smile flickers across your face, the first genuine one he’s seen since he got home. “Yeah, that was me. Charles never really cared about social media, so I took it over. It was fun, in a way, creating content that connected with people.”

Max’s heart lifts at your smile, at the spark of something familiar in your eyes. This could work. This could be exactly what you need.

“Well, I’ve got an idea,” Max says, trying to sound casual even though his heart is pounding in his chest. “Right now, Red Bull’s PR team handles all of my social media. I’ve never really been into it, you know? But honestly, they’re pretty … corporate. The posts are fine, but they don’t really have that personal touch. Not like what you did for Charles.”

You’re watching him now, curiosity piqued, and Max takes that as a good sign.

“What if,” Max continues, “you took over my social media? I mean, I’ve seen what you can do. The fans love that kind of content. You could work from home, set your own hours … it wouldn’t be physically demanding, and I’d pay you well. I mean, really well.”

Your eyes widen at his offer, and for a moment, you just stare at him, like you’re trying to figure out if he’s serious. “I don’t know … I’ve never done that professionally. It was just something I did to help Charles.”

“And you did it better than most professionals,” Max insists. “Look, I’m not asking you to do anything crazy. Just … think about it. You’d be helping me out too, you know? I could really use someone who gets what the fans want, who can make my social media feel more … real.”

You bite your lip, clearly torn. “I don’t know, Max. It’s a lot to take in.”

“I get that,” Max says quickly, not wanting to push too hard but also not wanting to let this go. “Just … think about it, okay? You’d be great at it. And it would mean you don’t have to keep doing jobs that are hard on your body. You could focus on the baby, on yourself. It’s just an idea, but I think it could work.”

You’re silent for a long moment, your gaze dropping to the plate in front of you as you consider his offer. Max waits, his heart pounding in his chest, hoping he hasn’t overstepped, hoping you’ll see this for what it is — a chance, an opportunity to take some of the weight off your shoulders.

Finally, you look up, and Max can see the conflict in your eyes. “I appreciate it, Max. Really, I do. It’s just … it’s a big change, and I’m not sure if I’m ready for it.”

“I get that,” Max says, his voice gentle. “But you don’t have to decide right now. Take some time, think it over. I just want you to know that the offer’s there. No pressure, no strings attached. Just … a way to make things a little easier for you.”

You nod slowly, your fingers toying with the edge of the napkin on the table. “I’ll think about it,” you finally say, your voice soft but sincere. “I really will.”

Max feels a rush of relief at your words, and he can’t help the small smile that tugs at his lips. “That’s all I ask. And, in the meantime, you can stay here tonight. No more commuting back and forth, okay?”

You start to protest, but Max cuts you off before you can even get the words out. “No arguments. You’re staying here. I’ve got plenty of room, and you shouldn’t be traveling so much. Just … stay, and we’ll figure things out together.”

You open your mouth to argue, but something in Max’s expression must convince you otherwise, because you close it again and nod. “Okay,” you agree, though you still look a little uncertain.

Max stands up, picking up the empty plates from the table. “Good. Now, you get some rest, and we’ll talk more in the morning.”

As he carries the plates to the sink, he feels a strange mix of emotions swirling in his chest. Anger at Charles for putting you in this situation, frustration that you’re too proud to accept help, and something else — something deeper, a fierce determination to make sure you and the baby are taken care of, no matter what.

He doesn’t know what the future holds, doesn’t know how things will play out between you and Charles, but one thing is certain: he’s not going to let you go through this alone. You’ve been there for him in the past, supporting Charles, cheering Max on from the sidelines, and now it’s his turn to be there for you.

As he turns off the kitchen light and heads to his room, he makes a silent vow to himself. Whatever it takes, he’s going to make sure you’re okay. He’s going to be the friend you need, the support you deserve, and he’s not going to let you down. Not now, not ever.

***

Max enters his apartment, the familiar sounds of his footsteps echoing softly against the hardwood floor. He’s looking forward to a quiet evening, maybe some time with his cats before bed. But when he steps into the living room, he stops in his tracks.

There you are, stretched out on his couch, resting. Jimmy and Sassy have claimed spots on either side of you. Jimmy’s large frame is draped over your legs, purring softly, while Sassy is curled up protectively near your stomach, her eyes half-closed but alert. The sight is so domestic, so peaceful, that it makes something tighten in Max’s chest. It’s a scene he’s never imagined but now, seeing it, it feels … right.

He’s struck by how well you fit here, in his home, in his life. The way you’ve naturally fallen into this space, as if you’ve always belonged. There’s something about the way you’re lying there, with Jimmy and Sassy close by, that tugs at his heart. He wonders if they sense the life growing inside you, if they somehow understand the significance of the new presence in the apartment.

Max approaches quietly, not wanting to disturb the serene moment. He can see now that you’ve fallen asleep, your breathing slow and steady, a slight smile playing on your lips. You look peaceful, more so than you have since you arrived. It’s a relief to see you like this, to know you’re finally resting.

He stands there for a moment, just watching. He’s not sure how long he’s been standing there, time seems to stretch as he takes in the scene. There’s something intimate about it, something that makes him feel protective, like he’s responsible for making sure you and the baby are safe, comfortable. He’s not sure when that shift happened, when he started to care so deeply, but it’s undeniable now.

Carefully, Max leans down and gently scoops you into his arms, trying not to wake you. You stir slightly, mumbling something in your sleep, but then settle back down, your head resting against his chest. Max holds his breath, half-expecting you to wake up and question what he’s doing, but you remain blissfully unaware, lost in whatever dream you’re having.

He’s careful as he carries you down the hallway to the guest room, taking slow, measured steps so he doesn’t jostle you too much. It’s strange, carrying you like this. Not that you’re heavy — far from it — but the weight of responsibility he feels is almost overwhelming. You’re so vulnerable right now, so trusting, and it makes Max even more determined to make sure you’re okay.

When he reaches the guest room, Max pushes the door open with his foot, grateful that it’s already ajar. He steps inside, the soft light from the hallway spilling into the room. The bed is already made, and Max lowers you onto it gently, careful not to disturb your sleep.

He takes a moment to tuck the blanket around you, making sure you’re comfortable. You murmur something again, shifting slightly, and Max freezes, worried he might have woken you. But you just settle deeper into the bed, sighing contentedly, still fast asleep.

Max lingers for a moment, his hand hovering near your face. He’s not sure what compels him to do it, but he finds himself leaning down, pressing a soft, hesitant kiss to your forehead. It’s a simple gesture, one filled with a mix of affection, protectiveness, and something else he can’t quite put into words. He pulls back quickly, almost embarrassed by the tenderness of it, but you don’t wake.

He steps back, watching you for a moment longer. You look so peaceful, and Max feels a strange sense of contentment, like he’s done something right for once. The day’s exhaustion is starting to catch up with him, but he can’t quite bring himself to leave the room just yet.

There’s something about the way you’re sleeping, surrounded by warmth and comfort, that makes him feel … happy. It’s a feeling he’s not used to, but one he finds himself embracing more and more as time goes on.

Finally, Max turns and quietly leaves the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. He heads back to the living room, where Jimmy and Sassy are still curled up on the couch, seemingly unbothered by the absence of their human pillow. Max sinks into the armchair across from them, running a hand through his hair as he tries to process everything that’s happened today.

He thinks back to the offer he made you earlier, wondering if you’ll actually take him up on it. Part of him worries that you’ll say no, that you’ll insist on doing everything yourself, but he hopes that maybe, just maybe, you’ll realize that accepting help doesn’t make you weak.

Max has never been good with words, but he meant everything he said. He wants to help you, to make things easier for you, and not just because he feels responsible. There’s something deeper at play here, something he can’t quite put his finger on, but it’s there all the same.

He’s never been in a situation like this before, never had someone depend on him in this way, and it’s both terrifying and exhilarating. Max isn’t sure what the future holds, but for the first time in a long time, he feels like he’s on the right path, like he’s doing something that actually matters.

As he sits there, the sounds of the city outside muted by the thick walls of the apartment, Max lets himself imagine what it would be like if this became a regular thing — if you stayed, if you became a part of his life, more than just a guest in his home. The thought sends a wave of warmth through him, a sense of belonging that he’s not sure he’s ever felt before.

But he pushes the thought aside, not wanting to get ahead of himself. One step at a time. First, he needs to make sure you’re okay, make sure you’re taken care of. Everything else can come later.

Max finally gets up from the armchair, heading to his own bedroom. The day’s events have left him drained, both physically and emotionally, and he knows he needs rest if he’s going to be any good to you tomorrow.

As he climbs into bed, pulling the covers over himself, Max’s thoughts drift back to you, sleeping soundly in the guest room just down the hall. He hopes you’re dreaming of something peaceful, something that takes your mind off all the worries you’ve been carrying.

And as he closes his eyes, the last image that flits through his mind is of you, smiling softly in your sleep, with Jimmy and Sassy curled up protectively around you. It’s a good image, one that brings a small, contented smile to his own lips as he finally drifts off to sleep.

Tonight, for the first time in a long time, Max feels like he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.

***

The smell of coffee fills the kitchen, mingling with the soft morning light that streams through the windows. Max is already at the table, scrolling through his phone, but he looks up as you enter, offering a small, warm smile. He’s still not quite used to this — having someone else here in his space, sharing these quiet moments — but it feels right in a way he hadn’t expected.

“Morning,” he says, his voice a little rough from sleep. “How’d you sleep?”

“Better,” you admit, reaching for the kettle to make your own cup of tea. “Thanks for … everything yesterday.”

Max waves it off, trying to seem nonchalant, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes — concern, maybe, or something deeper. “You needed it,” he says simply. “And it’s not over yet. We still need to talk about that job offer.”

You nod, pouring hot water over the tea bag and watching as the steam rises. “I’ve been thinking about it,” you start, your voice hesitant. “And … I think I want to accept it.”

Max feels a surge of relief, though he tries not to show it. “You sure? No pressure, if you’ve changed your mind.”

“No, I’m sure.” You take a seat across from him, your hands wrapped around the warm mug. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said. I need something … something to focus on that doesn’t involve cleaning floors or worrying about everything all the time. Plus, it’s something I know I can do. And I’ll be able to take care of myself, of the baby, without pushing myself too hard.”

Max nods, his relief turning into something warmer, almost like pride. “Good,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “I’m glad you’re taking it. I think you’ll be great at it.”

There’s a pause, the two of you just sipping your drinks in comfortable silence. But Max can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to this, that there’s something else you need but aren’t asking for.

“So,” he begins carefully, “where are you planning on staying? I mean, if you’re going to be working for me … you’re going to need somewhere closer than … wherever you’ve been staying.”

You look up, caught off guard. “I … I hadn’t thought about that yet. I was planning on going back to France and just-”

“Stay here,” Max interrupts, surprising even himself with how quickly the words come out. “I mean, it makes sense, right? You wouldn’t have to travel so far every day. Plus, it’s safer for you and the baby. You’ll have everything you need, and I’ll be around to help if you need anything.”

You hesitate, clearly torn. “I don’t want to be a burden, Max. You’ve already done so much-”

“You’re not a burden,” Max says firmly. “You’re my friend, and you need help. It’s that simple.”

There’s a long pause as you consider his words, weighing your options. Finally, you sigh, nodding slowly. “Okay. I’ll stay. But only until I figure things out.”

Max grins, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. “Deal.”

There’s a moment of shared relief before Max’s mind drifts to a more practical matter. “Right, so … there’s one more thing,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “I don’t really have much in the fridge besides, like, trainer-approved meals and protein shakes. We’re gonna need to do some shopping.”

You laugh softly, the first genuine laugh he’s heard from you in what feels like forever. “Okay, I guess we should take care of that then.”

Max stands, grabbing his keys from the counter. “Let’s go before it gets too busy.”

***

The grocery store is bustling with the mid-morning crowd, but there’s something oddly comforting about the normalcy of it all. Max pushes the cart as you walk beside him, selecting fruits and vegetables, adding them to the growing pile.

Max watches you closely, noting the way your shoulders relax a little as you focus on the mundane task of picking out produce. He’s glad to see you like this — calm, in control. You seem to know exactly what you need, even as you pause occasionally to consider an item before adding it to the cart.

“Max,” you ask after a moment, turning to him with a slight frown, “do you even like any of this stuff, or am I just buying what I want?”

Max chuckles, shaking his head. “I’ll eat whatever, really. Just make sure there’s enough for you and the baby.” He hesitates for a moment, then adds, “You know more about this stuff than I do, anyway.”

You give him a small smile, but it’s clear that the reality of your situation is still weighing heavily on you. Max wants to say something reassuring, but before he can find the right words, someone else does it for him.

“Y/N?”

The voice comes from behind you, and you both turn to see Pascale Leclerc standing a few feet away, her eyes wide with shock. She looks between you and Max, her gaze lingering on your rounded belly before returning to your face. “I …I didn’t expect to see you here.”

You freeze, your heart pounding in your chest. “Pascale,” you manage to say, trying to keep your voice steady. “Hi.”

Pascale takes a step closer, her expression shifting from surprise to concern. “You’re … pregnant?” she asks, her voice tinged with disbelief. “What happened? Charles said you broke up with him-”

You shake your head, your throat tightening. “No, Pascale. I didn’t break up with him. He … he broke up with me. Said it was because of the PR team at Ferrari. They thought he’d be more marketable if he was single.”

Pascale’s eyes widen in horror. “What? He told me … he told me it was mutual, that you both agreed it was for the best.”

Tears prick at your eyes as you shake your head again. “No, it wasn’t mutual. It wasn’t my choice.”

Max, who’s been standing silently beside you, finally speaks up, his voice filled with anger on your behalf. “Charles lied to you, Pascale. He left her, and he doesn’t even know she’s pregnant.”

Pascale’s hand flies to her mouth, her eyes welling with tears. “Oh, mon Dieu,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “I had no idea. Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

You swallow hard, trying to keep your emotions in check. “Please, Pascale,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, “please don’t tell Charles about the baby. I … I don’t want him to know.”

Pascale looks at you, torn, but eventually nods. “Okay. I won’t tell him,” she promises, her voice gentle but firm. “But …Y/N, I want to be a part of my grandchild’s life. I want to be there for you, for both of you.”

The sincerity in her voice breaks down the last of your defenses, and you find yourself nodding, unable to hold back the tears any longer. “Okay,” you manage to say, your voice choked with emotion. “I … I’d like that.”

Pascale steps forward, wrapping you in a gentle hug. “You’re not alone, ma chérie,” she whispers, her voice soothing. “I’m here for you. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

You cling to her for a moment, taking comfort in her words, before finally pulling back. “Thank you,” you say, wiping at your eyes. “Thank you so much.”

Max, who’s been watching the interaction with a mixture of relief and concern, gently places a hand on your back. “We should finish up,” he says softly, giving Pascale a nod. “Take care, Pascale.”

Pascale smiles through her own tears, giving Max a grateful look. “You too, Max. And Y/N … call me if you need anything. Anytime.”

You nod, giving her a small, shaky smile before turning back to the cart. As you and Max continue shopping, the weight of the encounter settles over you, leaving you emotionally drained. Max notices, his usual silence becoming a source of comfort as he quietly takes over, finishing up the shopping and paying for everything without another word.

***

The drive back to Max’s apartment is quiet, the earlier lightness of the morning replaced by a heavy, lingering tension. You stare out the window, lost in thought, replaying the encounter with Pascale over and over in your mind.

By the time you reach the apartment, you’re exhausted — physically and emotionally. Max parks the car and helps you carry the groceries inside, his movements careful and deliberate as if he’s trying to shield you from any further stress.

Once everything is put away, Max leads you to the living room, where you sink onto the couch, your body sagging with relief. He sits beside you, watching as you struggle to hold back tears, and finally, the dam breaks.

You bury your face in his shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably, all the fear and uncertainty and pain you’ve been holding in finally spilling out. Max wraps his arms around you, holding you close, his hand gently rubbing your back as he whispers soothing words into your ear.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice steady and calm. “Let it out. I’m here.”

You cry until there are no tears left, until you’re too exhausted to do anything but lean against Max, your body trembling with the aftershocks of your sobs. Max doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, just keeps holding you as if his presence alone can shield you from everything that’s gone wrong.

When you finally pull back, your eyes are red and puffy, your face wet with tears. “Sorry,” you mumble, wiping at your cheeks with the back of your hand. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Don’t apologize,” Max interrupts gently, his voice soft but firm. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You’re going through a lot, and you don’t have to hold it all in.”

You nod, still feeling raw and exposed, but there’s something comforting in the way Max is looking at you — like he’s not judging you, like he genuinely cares.

“Thanks,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “For everything. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Max offers you a small smile, his hand still resting on your back. “You don’t have to do it alone,” he says. “I’m here, okay? And I’m not going anywhere.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks, the weight of his words hanging in the air. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, and Max watches as you slowly regain some of your composure.

“Do you want to rest?” He asks after a moment, his voice filled with concern. “You’ve had a long day.”

You shake your head, wiping the last of the tears from your face. “No, I’m okay. I think I just need to … distract myself.”

Max nods, understanding. “Okay,” he says, standing up and offering you his hand. “How about we make dinner? Something simple, but better than those pre-prepared meals.”

You take his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. “Yeah,” you say, your voice steadier now. “That sounds good.”

***

Cooking with Max is surprisingly easy. He’s not much of a chef, but he’s attentive and eager to help, following your lead as you guide him through the steps of preparing a simple pasta dish. The kitchen fills with the comforting aroma of garlic and herbs, and for a while, you lose yourself in the routine of chopping vegetables and stirring sauces, the earlier tension easing with every moment.

Max watches you closely, noticing the way your movements become more relaxed as you focus on the task at hand. He’s relieved to see you like this — more at ease, more like yourself.

“I didn’t know you could cook,” Max comments as he carefully stirs the pasta in the pot, a hint of admiration in his voice.

You shrug, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I used to cook a lot,” you say, your tone a little wistful. “Before everything got … complicated.”

Max doesn’t push for more, sensing that you’re not ready to delve into the past just yet. Instead, he focuses on the present, on the simple pleasure of cooking together, the warmth of the kitchen, the shared sense of purpose.

By the time dinner is ready, the earlier tension has all but disappeared, replaced by a quiet, comforting camaraderie. You and Max sit at the table, eating in companionable silence, the simple meal a balm for your frayed nerves.

After dinner, you help Max clean up, the two of you working together in easy harmony. There’s something oddly soothing about the domesticity of it all — like a glimpse of a life you hadn’t dared to hope for, a life where things could be simple, where you didn’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders.

When everything is finally cleaned up, Max suggests watching a movie, and you agree, grateful for the chance to keep your mind occupied. You settle onto the couch with him, his cats Jimmy and Sassy immediately curling up beside you, their soft purring a comforting background noise.

Max flips through the options on his streaming service, eventually landing on an action movie. “This okay?” He asks, glancing at you.

“Yeah,” you say, nodding. “Something mindless sounds perfect right now.”

The movie starts, and for the next couple of hours, you lose yourself in the fast-paced action, the explosions and car chases providing a welcome distraction from the turmoil of your own life. Max is a solid, comforting presence beside you, and for a while, you let yourself believe that everything might actually be okay.

When the movie ends, you realize how exhausted you are, the emotional rollercoaster of the day finally catching up with you. Max notices too, and he turns to you with a concerned look.

“You should get some sleep,” he says, his voice gentle. “It’s been a long day.”

You nod, not having the energy to argue. “Yeah. I think I will.”

Max helps you to your feet, and you can feel his eyes on you as you make your way to the guest room. Before you can close the door behind you, he stops you with a soft, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You pause, looking back at him. “Goodnight, Max. And … thank you. For everything.”

Max smiles, a warmth in his eyes that you hadn’t noticed before. “You don’t have to thank me,” he says. “Just get some rest.”

You nod, giving him a small smile before closing the door behind you.

Once inside the guest room, you sink onto the bed, finally letting out a long breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. The room is quiet, the only sound the distant hum of the city outside.

You lie down, pulling the blankets over you, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you allow yourself to relax, to let go of the constant worry and fear, if only for a little while.

As you drift off to sleep, the events of the day swirl in your mind — Pascale’s unexpected appearance, Max’s unwavering support, the strange comfort of being here, in this place that’s starting to feel like home.

And somewhere, deep in your heart, a tiny seed of hope begins to take root.

***

The apartment smells of freshly baked cake and anticipation. Max is in the kitchen, moving about with a nervous energy, double-checking everything — again. The cake is already on the counter, perfectly frosted, with a single pink and blue question mark piped on top. The knife lies beside it, waiting for the moment that feels almost too monumental to be happening in the cozy confines of his living room.

You’re sitting on the couch, absentmindedly stroking Jimmy and Sassy, who have taken up their usual positions on either side of you. Your hand rests protectively over your rounded belly, feeling the slight flutters of movement from the baby. Despite the warmth of the room, your fingers are cold, a mix of nerves and excitement pulsing through you.

“Everything’s ready,” Max says, breaking the silence. He’s trying to sound casual, but you can hear the edge in his voice.

You offer him a small smile, trying to steady yourself. “Thanks, Max. For everything.”

He just nods, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before turning back to the cake. There’s something in his eyes that you can’t quite read — something beyond just friendship and support. But before you can dwell on it, there’s a knock at the door.

Max visibly relaxes, glad for the distraction. “I’ll get it,” he says, moving to the door and pulling it open.

Pascale is the first to step inside, her smile warm as she takes in the sight of you. “Ma chérie,” she greets, leaning down to kiss both of your cheeks. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” you reply, feeling a genuine warmth at seeing her. Pascale has been a rock for you since she found out about the pregnancy, offering support and reassurance in a way that makes you feel less alone.

Lorenzo and Arthur follow her in, both of them grinning widely as they approach you. “Hey,” Lorenzo says, giving you a quick hug. “Excited?”

“Nervous,” you admit, glancing over at the cake. “But excited too.”

Arthur chuckles, nudging his brother. “She’s having a girl, I can feel it. I’m gonna win the bet.”

Lorenzo rolls his eyes. “You always say that, but I’ve got a good feeling this time. I’m thinking boy.”

Max laughs, shaking his head as he closes the door behind them. “You two and your bets,” he says. “Let’s just focus on what’s important, yeah?”

Pascale gives him a knowing look, but doesn’t say anything, instead turning to you with a soft smile. “You look lovely, dear,” she says, reaching out to gently touch your arm. “And glowing.”

You feel a flush of warmth at her words, though part of you still feels a bit of that anxiety knotting in your stomach. This is Charles’ family, after all, and the weight of what’s unsaid lingers in the air between you.

Max clears his throat, drawing everyone’s attention back to the cake. “Shall we?” He asks, looking at you with an encouraging smile.

You take a deep breath and nod, standing up and moving over to the counter. Max stands close beside you, his presence steady and reassuring. The others gather around, their faces expectant, and you feel the weight of the moment settle over you.

“Here we go,” you say softly, picking up the knife. Your hands tremble slightly, and Max’s hand comes to rest on yours, steadying it. You glance up at him, and he gives you a small nod.

You press the knife into the cake, cutting through the soft layers until you reach the center. The room holds its breath as you pull the slice away, revealing the color inside.

It’s pink.

For a moment, there’s silence. Then Pascale lets out a delighted gasp, her hands flying to her mouth. “A girl!” She exclaims, her eyes shining with joy. “You’re having a little girl!”

Lorenzo and Arthur start laughing, both of them shaking their heads in mock disbelief. “I told you,” Arthur says, clapping his brother on the back. “Looks like you owe me fifty euros.”

But you barely register their words. Your eyes are fixed on the cake, on the pink filling that seems to glow with its own light. You’re having a daughter. The realization hits you like a wave, overwhelming and beautiful, and before you can stop yourself, you’re crying.

Max sees the tears and reacts instinctively. He turns toward you, his hands coming up to cradle your face. “Hey, hey,” he murmurs, his thumbs brushing away the tears. “It’s okay. It’s good news, right?”

You nod, laughing through the tears. “Yeah,” you say, your voice trembling. “It’s just …a lot.”

And then, before either of you can think, Max leans in and presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is soft, hesitant, as if he’s not sure if he should be doing this. But then you kiss him back, and something shifts, deepening the moment. It feels like the world falls away, like it’s just the two of you, and everything else fades into the background.

When Max pulls back, his eyes wide with the realization of what he’s just done, he starts to apologize. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

You shake your head, cutting him off. “Don’t,” you whisper, your voice soft but firm. “I liked it.”

Max searches your eyes, looking for any hint of doubt or regret, but all he sees is the truth in your words. He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I liked it too,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

The moment between you is tender and full of unspoken feelings, but it’s broken by the sound of Pascale clearing her throat. You both turn to see her watching you, a knowing smile on her face.

“Ah,” she says, her tone gentle but teasing. “I see.”

You feel your cheeks heat up, but Pascale just smiles wider, moving closer to you. “Ma chérie,” she says, taking your hands in hers. “I want you and my granddaughter to be happy. That’s all I care about.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you squeeze her hands in return. “Thank you,” you manage to say, your voice thick with emotion.

Pascale nods, glancing over at Max. “And I can see that Max will stop at nothing to make sure that happens.”

Max looks a little embarrassed, but he meets Pascale’s gaze with a quiet determination. “I promise,” he says, his voice steady. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Lorenzo and Arthur exchange glances, both of them grinning like idiots. “Well, this just got interesting,” Lorenzo quips, earning a light smack on the arm from Pascale.

“Behave,” she admonishes, though there’s a twinkle in her eye. “This is a celebration.”

You can’t help but laugh, the tension that had been building in your chest finally breaking. It’s a strange, wonderful feeling, being surrounded by people who genuinely care, who want what’s best for you and your baby. And as you look around the room — at Max, at Pascale, at Lorenzo and Arthur — you realize that maybe, just maybe, everything is going to be okay.

The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of laughter and conversation. Pascale insists on taking a thousand pictures of you with the cake, with Max, with everyone, and by the time she’s done, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Lorenzo and Arthur argue good-naturedly over baby names, each of them convinced they have the best suggestion, while Max listens with a bemused smile.

Eventually, the party winds down, and Lorenzo and Arthur say their goodbyes, promising to visit again soon. Pascale lingers a little longer, giving you one last hug before she leaves.

“Remember,” she says as she pulls back, her eyes warm and full of affection. “I’m always here for you, no matter what.”

You nod, feeling a swell of gratitude. “I know. Thank you.”

Pascale smiles and gives Max a quick hug as well before finally making her exit, leaving the two of you alone in the apartment.

For a moment, there’s silence. Then Max turns to you, his expression softening. “How are you feeling?” He asks, his voice gentle.

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the day settle over you. “Tired,” you admit, but there’s a warmth in your chest that wasn’t there before. “But … happy.”

Max smiles, and it’s the kind of smile that makes your heart skip a beat. “Good,” he says simply.

You look at him, at the man who has done so much for you in such a short amount of time, and you feel something shift inside you — something that scares you a little, but that also feels like hope.

“Max,” you begin, your voice uncertain. “About earlier-”

He cuts you off with a shake of his head. “You don’t have to say anything,” he says. “I just want you to be comfortable, to do what feels right for you.”

You nod, appreciating his understanding. “I just … I don’t know what I’m doing,” you admit, your voice small. “But I know I don’t want to push you away.”

Max’s eyes soften, and he takes a step closer to you. “You won’t,” he says, his voice gentle but certain. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? We’ll figure this out together.”

You take comfort in his words, the sincerity in his voice wrapping around you like a warm blanket. You’ve been so used to handling everything on your own, and the thought of having someone beside you, someone who genuinely cares, feels like a lifeline you didn’t know you needed.

“Okay,” you whisper, meeting his gaze. The air between you is charged, filled with the weight of unspoken possibilities.

Max reaches out, hesitating for a brief moment before gently cupping your cheek. His thumb brushes against your skin, and you lean into his touch, feeling a warmth spread through you. It’s as if time slows down, the world outside of Max’s apartment fading away until there’s only the two of you, standing close enough to share the same breath.

“I meant what I said earlier,” Max murmurs, his voice low and earnest. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you and the baby are safe, happy, and loved.”

You search his eyes, finding only honesty there, a depth of emotion that takes you by surprise. It’s been so long since you’ve felt this kind of connection, this certainty that you’re not alone.

“Thank you,” you say, your voice thick with emotion. “For everything.”

Max shakes his head slightly, as if to say there’s no need to thank him, but you know better. You know how much he’s done, how much he’s given, and you feel a rush of gratitude so powerful it almost overwhelms you.

Without thinking, you close the distance between you, wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace. Max holds you just as tightly, his chin resting on top of your head, and for a moment, everything feels right. The world outside, the uncertainty of the future — it all fades away, leaving just the comfort of his arms around you.

After a few moments, you pull back slightly, looking up at him. There’s something in his eyes that makes your heart skip a beat, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you press a soft, tentative kiss to his lips.

This time, there’s no hesitation. Max kisses you back with a gentle intensity that sends a shiver down your spine, his hands cradling your face as if you’re something precious, something he’s afraid to break.

When you finally pull away, you’re both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other. Max’s eyes are dark with emotion, and he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters in the world.

“Stay,” he whispers, his voice rough with need. “Stay with me. Let me take care of you.”

You nod, your heart pounding in your chest. “Okay,” you say, your voice trembling slightly. “I will.”

Max’s expression softens into a smile, one that lights up his entire face. He leans down and presses another kiss to your forehead, a promise in the simple gesture.

“Good,” he says, his voice full of quiet joy. “That’s good.”

You smile back at him, feeling a warmth in your chest that you haven’t felt in a long time. With Max by your side, it feels like maybe, just maybe, everything is going to be okay. As you both stand there, the quiet of the apartment wrapping around you like a cocoon, you realize that this — right here, right now — is the start of something new, something beautiful.

***

It’s early morning, the kind where the light hasn’t yet broken through the curtains, and the apartment is still wrapped in the quiet hush of dawn. You’re half-awake, swimming in that space between sleep and consciousness when you hear it — Max’s voice, low and soothing.

You keep your eyes closed, letting the sound wash over you, not wanting to break the spell. His words are soft, like he’s speaking to the most delicate thing in the world, and you realize he’s talking to your belly.

“Morning, little one,” Max whispers, his voice full of warmth. You feel the slight movement of his hand on your stomach, gentle and comforting. “Did you sleep well? I hope you’re taking it easy on your mama.”

You can’t help the small smile that curves your lips, but you stay still, wanting to hear more. There’s something so tender, so intimate about this moment, and you don’t want to interrupt it.

Max continues, his tone playful now. “You know, I’ve been thinking … you’re going to need a name for me, right? Something special. How about Maxie? Does that sound good to you?” He pauses, as if waiting for an answer. “Or maybe, one day, you’ll call me Papa. I’d really like that.”

Your heart swells, and you feel a warmth spread through you that has nothing to do with the blanket you’re curled under. Max’s words are like a promise, one that wraps around both you and the baby, binding you together in a way that feels unshakable.

He continues to talk, his voice filled with love and a hint of wonder, as if he still can’t quite believe this is real. “I can’t wait to meet you, you know. To see your little face, your tiny hands … I’m going to be right here, every step of the way. I promise. You and your mama … you’re my world now.”

You feel the gentle pressure of his lips as he presses a kiss to your stomach, and it sends a shiver through you, a mix of emotion that you can’t quite put into words. It’s the kind of feeling that settles deep in your chest, making you want to cry and smile at the same time.

Max shifts slightly, and you feel him lay his head next to your stomach, his breath warm against your skin. “I’ll be here to teach you all the important things, like how to kick a football or how to drive really fast — though, your mama might not like that last one,” he chuckles softly, and you have to bite your lip to keep from giggling.

“And I’ll be here for the hard stuff too,” Max continues, his tone growing serious. “I’ll make sure you’re safe, and that you always know how loved you are. Because you’re already so loved, little one. So much.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your eyes sting with unshed tears. You can feel the depth of his commitment, the way he’s already made space in his heart for this child, and it’s overwhelming in the best possible way.

Max falls quiet for a moment, his hand still resting on your belly. You can feel his thumb tracing small circles over your skin, like he’s trying to memorize the feeling. “I know I’m not your real dad,” he says quietly, almost as if he’s talking to himself. “But I’m going to love you like you’re mine. And I’m going to love your mama with everything I have, because she deserves that. She deserves everything.”

Your heart clenches at his words, a rush of emotion so strong it nearly takes your breath away. You’ve never felt so cared for, so deeply cherished, and it’s all because of him — this man who has stepped into your life and turned it upside down in the most unexpected, wonderful way.

Max leans in closer, his voice barely above a whisper now. “I promise, I’ll always be here for you. For both of you. And I hope, one day, you’ll call me Papa. But even if you don’t, I’ll still be the luckiest man in the world, just to be here with you.”

You can’t keep your eyes closed any longer. They flutter open, and you glance down at him, your heart full to bursting. Max looks up, catching your gaze, and there’s a moment of quiet understanding between you — a recognition of the enormity of what he’s just said.

“Did I wake you?” He asks softly, his hand still resting on your belly.

You shake your head, your voice thick with emotion. “No … I was awake.”

Max studies your face, and you can see the concern in his eyes, the way he’s always so attuned to your feelings. “You okay?”

You nod, reaching out to brush a hand through his messy hair. “I’m more than okay.”

His lips curl into a soft smile, one that makes your chest ache with how much you care for him. Max shifts, pressing another kiss to your belly before moving to lay beside you, gathering you into his arms. You rest your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, letting it soothe you back into that half-asleep state.

“You’re going to be an amazing dad,” you murmur, your words slurred with sleep.

Max’s arms tighten around you, his lips brushing against the top of your head. “Only because I have you.”

His words wrap around you like a blanket, warm and secure. As you drift back into sleep, the last thing you hear is Max’s voice, soft and full of promise, whispering to your belly again. “I’ll always be here,” he says. “For both of you. Always.”

And with that, you let the sound of his voice carry you back into sleep, your heart filled with a deep, unshakable sense of peace.

***

The contractions start in the early hours of the morning, sharp and unyielding, ripping you out of a restless sleep. At first, you think it’s just another false alarm — your body playing tricks on you like it has for the past week. But this time, something feels different, more urgent. Max is beside you in an instant, his instincts kicking in the moment you clutch at the sheets, your breath hitching in pain.

“Are you okay?” His voice is full of concern, his hand already on your back, trying to soothe you through the discomfort.

You shake your head, biting your lip as another wave crashes over you. “It’s time,” you manage to gasp, your hand instinctively reaching for his. “Max, it’s time.”

Max’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t hesitate. He’s up, grabbing the hospital bag that’s been packed for weeks now, guiding you carefully out of bed. The ride to the hospital is a blur of pain and tension, Max’s knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel, driving with a focus that betrays his worry.

When you arrive, everything moves too quickly and too slowly all at once. Nurses and doctors swarm around you, getting you into a gown, checking your vitals, assessing the baby’s position. Max stays by your side through it all, his hand never leaving yours, his voice a steady presence in your ear as he tries to keep you calm.

Hours pass, the pain intensifying until it feels like your body is being split in two. But you’re not scared — not until the doctor’s expression changes, his calm professionalism slipping as he exchanges a glance with the nurse. It’s a look that sends a spike of fear through your heart, and suddenly, the room feels too small, the walls closing in.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, your voice shaking, trying to keep the panic at bay. Max’s hand tightens around yours, his eyes fixed on the doctor, demanding answers without saying a word.

The doctor clears his throat, his tone gentle but serious. “The baby is in distress. Her heart rate is dropping, and we’re concerned about a potential placental abruption.”

“What does that mean?” Max’s voice is hoarse, his face pale.

“It means,” the doctor says carefully, “we may have to make some difficult decisions. We’ll do everything we can, but in situations like this, there’s a chance we may have to prioritize-”

“No,” you interrupt, your voice rising in panic. The room starts to spin, your vision blurring as the reality of what he’s saying crashes over you. “No, no, no … you can’t do that. Save the baby. If it comes down to it, you have to save the baby.”

Max’s grip on your hand tightens to the point of pain, but it’s nothing compared to the anguish in his eyes. “Don’t say that,” he chokes out, his voice cracking. “Don’t you dare say that.”

The doctor nods, his expression somber. “We’re not there yet. We still have time to try and turn things around, but we need to act fast.”

You nod numbly, tears streaming down your face as the pain intensifies, the fear now mingling with the physical agony. Max leans in close, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot and ragged as he struggles to hold it together.

“You’re going to be okay,” he whispers, though his voice shakes with the weight of his own fear. “You hear me? Both of you. You’re both coming out of this. I need you to believe that.”

Your heart aches at the desperation in his voice, and you want to believe him, want to cling to the hope he’s trying so hard to give you. But the terror is overwhelming, and all you can do is nod, too afraid to speak, afraid that if you do, it will make everything too real.

Max pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, his expression fierce despite the tears shining in his own. “Listen to me,” he says, his voice stronger now, a command wrapped in a plea. “You’re strong, okay? The strongest person I know. And she’s strong too. You’re both going to make it through this. You have to. I can’t-” His voice breaks, and he swallows hard, his thumb brushing a tear from your cheek. “I can’t lose you. I can’t lose either of you.”

His words break something inside you, and you sob, clutching at him like he’s your lifeline, because right now, he is. The pain, the fear, the uncertainty — it’s all too much, and you bury your face in his chest, trying to draw strength from him.

The doctors and nurses are moving around you, the room filled with a flurry of activity, but all you can focus on is Max. He’s your anchor, the only thing keeping you tethered to reality as the world spins out of control. His hand never leaves yours, even as the contractions grow stronger, more intense, your screams echoing off the walls.

“I’m here,” Max keeps repeating, his voice a constant in the chaos. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

But then, the situation worsens. You hear the doctor call for an emergency C-section, and your heart plummets. The pain is unbearable, and you can’t breathe, can’t think. They’re wheeling you away, Max’s hand slipping from yours as they take you to the operating room. The last thing you see is his face, pale and stricken, his eyes wide with fear.

“I love you,” he calls out, his voice cracking with the weight of everything he can’t control. “I love you so much. Please — please be okay.”

The operating room is cold, the lights too bright, and all you can think about is the life inside you, the baby you’ve grown to love before she’s even taken her first breath. You can’t lose her. You can’t. But the fear is suffocating, and as they prepare you for surgery, you feel a wave of despair crash over you.

Max’s words echo in your mind, a desperate mantra that you cling to with everything you have. Both of you are making it out of this. You have to.

The anesthesia takes hold, and you feel yourself slipping away, the world fading around you. But before the darkness consumes you, you send up a silent prayer, a plea to whatever force might be listening.

Please. Please let us both make it out of this.

And then, there’s nothing but darkness.

***

Max paces the waiting room, his heart pounding so hard it feels like it might break through his chest. Every second that ticks by is torture, every minute without news a knife twisting in his gut. He’s never been this scared in his life, not even in the most dangerous moments on the track.

His hands are shaking, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios. He keeps replaying the last look you gave him, the fear in your eyes, the way you clung to him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded. The thought of losing you, of losing the baby — it’s unbearable.

He can’t breathe, can’t think straight. All he can do is wait, and it’s driving him insane. He feels so helpless, like there’s nothing he can do to fix this, to protect you, and it’s killing him.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the doctor emerges from the operating room. Max rushes to him, his heart in his throat, fear choking him.

“Doctor, please — tell me, are they okay?” Max’s voice is raw, barely above a whisper, his eyes pleading.

The doctor looks tired, his face drawn, but there’s a small, reassuring smile on his lips. “The surgery was successful. It was touch and go for a while, but both your partner and the baby are stable.”

Max’s knees nearly buckle with relief, a sob escaping his throat as he covers his face with his hands. “Thank God … thank you,” he chokes out, his whole body trembling with the release of tension.

“You can see them soon,” the doctor adds gently, placing a hand on Max’s shoulder. “She’s going to need a lot of rest, and we’ll be monitoring them both closely, but they’re out of danger for now.”

Max nods, unable to speak, his emotions too overwhelming to put into words. He’s ushered into a recovery room, where you’re lying on the bed, pale and exhausted, but alive. The sight of you sends a fresh wave of tears to his eyes.

“Hey,” you whisper weakly, your voice barely audible, but the sound of it is the most beautiful thing Max has ever heard.

“Hey,” he breathes, moving to your side and taking your hand in his. His other hand brushes the hair from your face, his touch reverent, as if he’s afraid you might break. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, tears welling up in your eyes. “I didn’t mean to … I just … I had to make sure she was okay.”

Max shakes his head, leaning down to press his forehead against yours, his tears mingling with yours. “Don’t apologize. You did it. You both made it. You’re both okay.”

You squeeze his hand, drawing strength from his presence. “I couldn’t have done it without you. I heard you, Max … I heard you telling me to hold on.”

Max pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours. “I meant every word. I’ll always be here, for both of you. I promise.”

A nurse enters. “Would you like to meet your daughter?” She asks.

The nurse wheels in the bassinet, and you can’t take your eyes off the tiny bundle wrapped in a pink blanket. Max looks at you, his heart in his throat, as the nurse gently lifts your daughter and places her in your arms. She’s so small, her eyes closed, her tiny fists curled up against her chest. The world narrows to this moment, the overwhelming surge of love crashing over you both as you stare down at her.

Max sits beside you, his arm around your shoulders as he looks at his daughter, his breath catching in his throat. “She’s perfect,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “So beautiful.”

You smile through your tears, nodding as you trace a gentle finger over the baby’s soft cheek. “She is. I … I’ve been thinking about what to name her.”

Max looks at you, his heart pounding, waiting for you to speak.

“I want to name her Emilia,” you say softly, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. “After you. I want her to have a part of you with her always. You’ve done so much for us, Max. You’re a part of her, a part of us. It feels right.”

Max’s breath catches, and for a moment, he can’t speak. His middle name is something he’s never thought much about, but hearing you say it now, giving it to your daughter — it takes on a whole new meaning.

“Emilia,” he repeats softly, as if testing it out. A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, his eyes bright with unshed tears. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

You lean your head against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body as he wraps you both in his embrace. Emilia stirs in your arms, making a soft noise as she opens her eyes for the first time, looking up at you and Max with wide, curious eyes. It feels like time stands still, the three of you cocooned in this perfect moment.

“She’s going to be so loved,” Max whispers, his voice full of awe and determination. “I’ll make sure of it.”

You nod, knowing he means it with every fiber of his being. Max has already proven that he’ll do anything to protect you and Emilia. It’s in the way he looks at you, in the way he holds you both as if you’re the most precious things in the world.

As you sit there together, your new family, you know that no matter what challenges lie ahead, you won’t be facing them alone. Max is here, by your side, and with him, you have all the strength you need.

“Welcome to the world, Emilia,” you whisper, kissing her tiny forehead. “We love you so much.”

Max kisses the top of your head, his lips lingering there as he closes his eyes, letting himself feel the full weight of the love he has for you both. This is what he’s been waiting for, what he didn’t even realize he needed until now.

“I’ll always be here,” he murmurs, his voice a promise. “For both of you.”

And as you hold your daughter close, you know that those words are true. Max will always be here, and together, you’ll face whatever comes next as a family.

***

Max carefully pulls the car up to the curb outside his Monaco apartment, his hands gripping the steering wheel just a little too tightly. He’s driven this route countless times, but today feels different — monumental. He glances over at you in the passenger seat, Emilia cradled in your arms, bundled up in a soft pink blanket. She’s asleep, her tiny mouth forming an ‘O’ as she breathes peacefully.

Max’s heart feels like it might burst from his chest as he watches you both. The love he feels is overwhelming, so much that it almost scares him. He’s not sure how to carry it all, but he knows he wants to try — no, he needs to.

“Ready?” He asks, his voice soft, not wanting to disturb Emilia.

You nod, smiling down at your daughter before looking up at him. “Ready.”

Max steps out of the car and hurries around to your side, opening the door for you and helping you out, his hand warm and steady on your arm. You both move carefully, as if the world might shatter if you’re too rough. Emilia stirs slightly as you adjust her in your arms, but she stays asleep, oblivious to the world outside.

The front door of the apartment clicks open, and you step inside, the familiar scent of home wrapping around you. Max closes the door behind you, and suddenly, the apartment feels different — more complete, more alive. He watches as you walk into the living room, a sense of awe filling him as he realizes that this is your home now, Emilia’s home.

Jimmy and Sassy are lounging on the couch when you enter. They lift their heads lazily, eyes narrowing with curiosity as they spot the new addition to the household. Max watches them closely, his heart racing slightly. He knows how territorial they can be, and the last thing he wants is for them to feel threatened by Emilia.

You lower yourself carefully onto the couch, cradling Emilia in your arms, and Max sits beside you, his arm around your shoulders. “Guys,” you whisper to the cats, your voice gentle, soothing. “Come say hi.”

Jimmy is the first to move, hopping down from the couch and approaching slowly, his eyes wide as he takes in the sight of the tiny human in your arms. He sniffs the air cautiously, his ears twitching, and then, to Max’s surprise, he rubs his head gently against Emilia’s leg, purring softly. Sassy follows suit, jumping up onto the armrest to get a better look, her green eyes curious and bright.

Max lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, a smile spreading across his face. “Looks like they approve,” he says, his voice full of warmth.

You laugh softly, the sound like music to his ears. “I guess so. They’re so gentle with her.”

“Yeah,” Max agrees, his eyes never leaving Emilia’s face. “They know she’s important.”

For a while, the three of you just sit there, basking in the quiet joy of the moment. Emilia shifts in your arms, her tiny fingers flexing as she begins to wake up. Her eyes flutter open, and she lets out a small, contented sigh. Jimmy and Sassy watch intently, as if fascinated by this little creature that’s suddenly become the center of their world.

Max reaches out, his fingers brushing lightly against Emilia’s cheek. She turns her head slightly, her eyes trying to focus on him, and Max feels a lump form in his throat. “Hi, meisje,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “Welcome home.”

You lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder, and for a moment, everything feels perfect. But then, as if the weight of the world suddenly returns, Max feels a pang of dread deep in his chest. He tries to push it away, but it lingers, gnawing at him.

You notice the change in him immediately, lifting your head to look at him, concern in your eyes. “Max? What’s wrong?”

He hesitates, not wanting to ruin the moment, but he knows he has to tell you. “I just … I’ve been thinking about the races,” he admits quietly. “I’m going to have to leave soon, and … I hate the thought of being away from you and Emilia. Especially now.”

Your expression softens, and you reach out to take his hand, your thumb brushing over his knuckles. “Max, it’s okay. I know how much racing means to you. We’ll be fine.”

He shakes his head, his eyes searching yours. “I know you will. It’s just … I don’t want to miss anything. I don’t want to miss her first smile, her first laugh, her first steps …”

“You won’t,” you assure him, squeezing his hand. “We’ll make it work. And when she’s old enough, we’ll come with you to as many races as we can.”

Max’s heart swells at the thought, but then another worry creeps in. He hesitates, glancing away for a moment before looking back at you. “But… what about Charles? I don’t want you to feel like you have to be in the same paddock as him. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

You’re quiet for a moment, considering his words, and then you shake your head, a determined look in your eyes. “Max, I’ve thought about it a lot, and I want to be there with you. Emilia and I will cheer you on, and Charles … well, he’s in the past. You’re our future. I want to support you, and I want Emilia to see how amazing her papa is.”

The relief that washes over Max is palpable. He hadn’t realized how much he needed to hear that until now. “Are you sure?” He asks, his voice almost trembling. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re not ready for.”

“I’m sure,” you say firmly. “Besides, I want Emilia to grow up surrounded by people who love her. And that includes you, Max. You’re her papa.”

Max’s breath catches at the word, his chest tightening with a mix of love and fear. He’s been called many things in his life — champion, prodigy, competitor — but ‘papa’ is new. It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

“Papa,” he echoes softly, the word feeling both foreign and right on his tongue. “I like the sound of that.”

You smile, your eyes shining with warmth. “Me too.”

The rest of the day passes in a blur of small, beautiful moments. You and Max take turns holding Emilia, watching as she discovers the world around her with wide, curious eyes. Max can’t stop marveling at how tiny she is, how perfect. Every little coo, every small movement feels like a miracle to him.

When evening falls, you feed Emilia while Max busies himself in the kitchen, preparing something simple for dinner. He’s not much of a cook, but he’s determined to take care of you both in any way he can. As you sit at the table together, Emilia cradled in your arms, Max watches you with a sense of contentment he’s never felt before.

But as the night grows darker, that lingering dread creeps back in. Max knows he has to leave for the next race soon, and the thought of being away from you and Emilia feels unbearable. After dinner, he finds himself pacing the living room, his thoughts swirling.

You notice his restlessness and approach him, Emilia sleeping soundly in your arms. “Max,” you say gently, drawing his attention. “Talk to me.”

He stops, running a hand through his hair as he looks at you, his eyes filled with uncertainty. “I just … I don’t know how I’m going to leave you both. I hate it.”

You step closer, reaching out to touch his arm. “Max, I know it’s hard. But we’ll be okay. And you can call us anytime, video chat, whatever you need. We’ll make it work.”

Max nods, but the worry in his eyes doesn’t fade. “I just don’t want to miss anything,” he repeats, his voice strained. “I want to be here for everything.”

“And you will be,” you promise, your voice firm. “We’ll figure it out together. We’re a team now, remember?”

Max lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Yeah,” he says softly, his voice filled with gratitude. “We are.”

You lean up to kiss him softly on the lips, a kiss that’s full of reassurance and love. When you pull back, Max looks at you with a mixture of awe and affection.

“Thank you,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

“For what?” You ask, tilting your head slightly.

“For being here. For being you,” he says simply, his eyes locking onto yours. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You smile, your heart swelling with love for the man in front of you. “You’ll never have to find out.”

Max pulls you into a gentle embrace, careful not to disturb Emilia as he holds you both close. In that moment, he knows that no matter how many races he has to go to, no matter how far he has to travel, this is where his heart will always be — with you and Emilia.

And as you both stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms, Max makes a silent promise to himself: to always be there for you, no matter what. Because this — this little family you’ve created together — is the most important thing in the world.

***

The doorbell rings just as Max is finishing up with Emilia’s bottle. He glances at the clock — 10:30 a.m. Whoever it is, they’re too early for lunch, too late for breakfast, and entirely unexpected.

You’re in the kitchen, humming softly while packing away the groceries Max picked up this morning. Max smiles to himself as he looks down at Emilia, her tiny fingers wrapped around his thumb. It feels like everything in his life is finally in place.

But that sense of contentment shatters the moment he opens the door.

Jos stands there, his presence immediately filling the entryway with tension. The older man’s eyes flick to you in the kitchen, then back to Max, his mouth curling into a sneer.

“Max,” Jos says, stepping forward before Max can say a word. His voice is cold, sharp. The man doesn’t even bother with a greeting.

“Dad,” Max replies, swallowing hard as he shuts the door behind him. Jos is already walking into the apartment, his eyes scanning the place like he’s looking for something to criticize.

You turn around, startled by the sound of footsteps you weren’t expecting. The soft smile on your face fades when you see Jos. Max can see the recognition in your eyes, followed by a flash of concern. You know about Jos, the kind of man he is. Max’s jaw tightens.

“What are you doing here?” Max tries to keep his voice steady, but there’s an edge to it, a warning.

Jos ignores him. His gaze is fixed on you now, his expression unreadable but undeniably harsh. “So this is her, huh?” He waves a hand in your direction. “The one Charles tossed aside.”

You freeze, hands trembling as you instinctively clutch the counter behind you. Max’s blood runs cold.

“Don’t,” Max warns, stepping between you and his father. “Don’t talk to her like that.”

Jos scoffs. “Relax, Max. I’m just stating the obvious. She’s nothing more than your rival’s sloppy seconds. And you … you’re playing house with another man’s child.”

The air leaves the room. Max’s vision narrows, and all he can see is Jos — the man who made his childhood a battleground. The man who pushed him so hard he could barely breathe under the weight of his expectations. Now he’s here, trying to break apart the life Max has built for himself.

“That’s enough,” Max snaps, his voice rising in a way that’s unfamiliar, even to him. Emilia starts fussing in his arms, sensing the tension, and it only makes him angrier. “You don’t get to walk in here and insult my family.”

Jos raises an eyebrow. “Family? Don’t kid yourself, Max. This isn’t your family. This is Charles Leclerc’s leftovers. You’re raising another man’s child, and you think that makes you a father?”

Max feels like he’s been punched in the gut, but he doesn’t flinch. He’s not that scared little boy anymore, the one who craved his father’s approval more than anything in the world. He’s a man now — a father — and he won’t let Jos tear him down again.

“You don’t know anything about this,” Max says, his voice shaking with fury. “I love her. I love Emilia. She’s my daughter, and I’m her father, no matter what you think. And if you can’t respect that, then you don’t belong here.”

Jos’s eyes flash with something dark, something that Max recognizes all too well. But before he can say anything, you step forward, your voice trembling but determined. “Please, just go.”

Jos glances at you, then back at Max. For a moment, it looks like he might push further, but then he shakes his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. “You’ve gone soft, Max. You’re making a mistake, and one day you’ll see it.”

Max tightens his grip on Emilia, who’s starting to cry now, her small voice cutting through the tension. He turns his back on Jos, cradling his daughter close to his chest, and says, “Get out.”

For a moment, there’s only silence. Then, with a huff of disdain, Jos turns on his heel and leaves, the door slamming shut behind him. The sound echoes through the apartment like a gunshot.

You rush to Max’s side, reaching out to touch his arm. “Max, I-”

“Don’t,” Max says, his voice cracking. He closes his eyes, leaning into your touch as he struggles to keep his composure. “Just … don’t.”

He doesn’t mean to snap at you, but the anger, the hurt, it’s all too much. You say nothing, just move closer, wrapping your arms around him and Emilia, holding them both as tightly as you can. Max can feel the tension melting away, replaced by a deep, bone-deep exhaustion.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, resting your head on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Max replies, shaking his head. “It’s … it’s just him. He’ll never change.”

You pull back slightly, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. “He’s wrong, Max. You are her father. You’re already everything she needs.”

Max looks down at Emilia, who’s slowly calming down in his arms. Her tiny hand grips his finger, and the simple, innocent gesture makes something in him break. He swallows hard, blinking back tears.

“I don’t care what he says,” Max whispers, more to himself than to you. “I’m not him. I’m never going to be him.”

You reach up, gently brushing a tear away from his cheek. “You’re not. You’re a good man and you’re already a great father.”

Max can’t find the words to respond, so he just leans down and kisses you, a slow, desperate kiss that says everything he can’t put into words. You kiss him back, your hands gently cradling his face, grounding him in the moment.

When you finally pull away, you smile at him, and it’s like the sun breaking through a stormy sky. “We’re going to be okay,” you say softly. “All three of us.”

Max nods, pressing his forehead against yours. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “We are.”

You both stand there in the quiet of the apartment, holding onto each other and to Emilia, who has finally fallen back asleep. The storm has passed, but Max knows there will be more to come. But as long as he has you and Emilia by his side, he knows he can face anything.

And for the first time in a long time, Max feels like he’s finally home.

***

The room is silent except for the soft hum of the baby monitor, its rhythmic buzz a constant backdrop to the night. The apartment is dark, save for a thin sliver of moonlight seeping in through the curtains, casting a pale glow over the room.

You stir, groggily reaching for the warmth of Max beside you, but find only cold sheets. Instantly, you’re more awake, your heart quickening as you sit up and squint into the darkness. It’s late, or maybe it’s early — time has blurred into an endless loop of feeding, changing, and trying to snatch sleep in between.

Max isn’t in bed, but you can see his silhouette across the room, standing over Emilia’s crib. His back is to you, his posture tense yet somehow fragile, as if he’s holding something inside that’s threatening to spill over. You watch him for a moment, the quiet of the night wrapping around you both like a blanket, before you gently call out his name.

“Max?”

He doesn’t turn immediately, and for a second, you think maybe he didn’t hear you. But then he shifts slightly, his shoulders dropping as if he’s finally exhaling a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Sorry,” he says, his voice low and rough with emotion. “Did I wake you?”

You shake your head, though he’s not looking at you. “No. I just noticed you weren’t in bed.”

He glances back at you then, just briefly, his eyes shadowed and unreadable in the dim light. “I couldn’t sleep,” he admits, turning his gaze back to Emilia. “I kept thinking about … everything.”

There’s a heaviness in his tone that makes you push back the covers and swing your legs over the edge of the bed. You stand up, crossing the room to where he’s standing. When you reach him, you place a hand on his arm, feeling the tension thrumming through his muscles.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” You ask softly, trying to meet his eyes.

For a moment, he’s quiet, staring down at Emilia with a look that’s a mix of awe and fear. Then he speaks, his voice barely above a whisper. “I keep saying she’s mine. I’ve said it so many times, but … I don’t think it really hit me until just now. I’m her dad.”

He finally looks at you, his blue eyes shining with something raw and unguarded. “I’m her dad, and that means … everything. It means I’m the one who’s supposed to protect her, to make sure she’s safe and happy. I’m the one who’s supposed to teach her, to love her, to be there for every moment of her life.”

His voice cracks on the last word, and you feel your heart break for him, for the weight he’s been carrying. You squeeze his arm gently, encouraging him to continue.

“I’ve spent so much of my life trying to be what my dad wanted me to be,” Max continues, his eyes dropping back down to Emilia. “I pushed myself so hard because I thought that’s what I had to do, that I had to prove something to him, to everyone. But this … being her dad, it’s different. It’s not about proving anything. It’s just about being there for her, for you.”

You can hear the fear in his voice, the uncertainty, but also the determination. Max has always been a fighter, always pushing himself to the limit, but this is different. This is about love, about responsibility, about a future that’s no longer just his.

“I promise,” he says, his voice stronger now, more certain. “I promise I’ll always do the best for her, and for you. I’ll make mistakes, I know I will, but I’ll always try to do what’s right. I’ll always be here.”

His words hang in the air between you, heavy with meaning. You step closer, sliding your arms around his waist and resting your head against his chest. You can hear the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, a comforting rhythm that grounds you in the moment.

“You’re already doing it,” you whisper against his chest. “You’re already an amazing dad, Max. She’s so lucky to have you, and so am I.”

Max wraps his arms around you, pulling you even closer. You feel the warmth of his body against yours, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. It’s a simple, quiet moment, but it’s everything.

“I’m the lucky one,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I didn’t think … I never imagined this. Having a family. But now that I do, I can’t imagine life without it. Without you. Without her.”

You pull back slightly, just enough to look up at him. His eyes are soft, full of love and something else — something deeper, more profound. It’s the look of a man who’s found something he didn’t even know he was searching for.

“I love you,” you say, the words slipping out before you can even think about them. But they’re true, and you realize with a start that you’ve been feeling them for a while now.

Max’s breath catches, and for a moment, he just stares at you, like he’s trying to memorize your face, your words, everything about this moment. Then he smiles — a real, genuine smile that lights up his entire face.

“I love you too,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “So much.”

You lean in, pressing your lips to his in a slow, tender kiss. It’s not the first kiss you’ve shared, but it feels like the most important. It’s a promise, a commitment, a beginning.

When you finally pull away, Max rests his forehead against yours, his hands still holding you close. “Thank you,” he whispers. “For everything. For trusting me, for being here, for giving me this family.”

You smile, reaching up to cup his cheek. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

He kisses you again, softer this time, a lingering brush of lips that sends warmth spiraling through you. Then he turns his attention back to Emilia, who’s still sound asleep in her crib, blissfully unaware of the world around her.

“She’s so perfect,” Max murmurs, his voice full of wonder. “I still can’t believe she’s ours.”

“She is,” you agree, leaning against him as you both watch your daughter sleep. “She’s everything.”

Max nods, his eyes never leaving Emilia. “I’m going to do everything I can to make sure she has the best life possible. I don’t care what it takes. She’s my little girl.”

There’s a fierceness in his voice now, a protective instinct that you know will only grow stronger with time. It’s the kind of love that can’t be measured, the kind that changes everything.

“And you,” Max adds, looking down at you with a softness that makes your heart swell. “I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you’re happy too. That you never have to worry about anything.”

“I know you will,” you say, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. “But you don’t have to do it all on your own, Max. We’re in this together, okay? We’re a team.”

He nods, his expression serious. “Yeah. We are.”

You stand there in the quiet of the night, wrapped up in each other and in the future you’re building together. It’s a future that’s still uncertain, full of challenges and unknowns, but it’s yours. It’s yours, and it’s beautiful.

After a while, Max guides you back to bed, and you both climb under the covers, your bodies fitting together perfectly. He holds you close, his arms wrapped around you as you settle against his chest. You can hear the steady beat of his heart, feel the warmth of his skin against yours, and it lulls you into a peaceful sleep.

As you drift off, you hear Max’s voice one last time, a soft whisper in the darkness. “I’m never letting go of this. Of you. Of her. I promise.”

And with that, you fall into a deep, dreamless sleep, feeling more loved and more secure than you ever have before.

***

Max is darting around the private jet, a man on a mission. He’s checking every corner, every surface, making sure it’s all baby-proofed, while you sit on the plush leather seat, watching him with a mix of amusement and affection. Emilia, cradled in your arms, is blissfully unaware of her father’s nerves as she gurgles happily, her tiny hands waving in the air.

“Max, it’s fine,” you call out, but he’s too busy testing the security of a cabinet door to hear you.

“What if the turbulence knocks something over?” He mutters, more to himself than to you, as he gives the cabinet another pull to ensure it’s locked tight. He moves on to the safety straps on the seats, tugging at them to make sure they’re secure.

You can’t help but smile at how seriously he’s taking this. Max Verstappen reduced to a bundle of nerves over the safety of a half-year-old baby on a private jet. It’s endearing, seeing him so out of his element, so completely focused on making sure everything is perfect for Emilia.

“Max, she’s going to be fine,” you say gently, but with a hint of laughter in your voice.

Max finally turns to you, his expression a mix of determination and mild panic. “I know, I just-” he pauses, running a hand through his hair, “I don’t want to take any chances. What if something happens? What if-”

“Max,” you cut him off, “everything’s going to be okay. You’ve checked everything three times already.”

He lets out a breath, his shoulders finally relaxing a little. “Yeah, you’re right. I just ... I want her to be safe.”

“She will be. And besides,” you add with a teasing smile, “you’ve already won the overprotective dad award.”

That gets a small smile out of him, and he walks over to where you’re sitting, leaning down to press a kiss to Emilia’s forehead. “You’re right,” he says again, though this time it sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself.

You reach up to touch his cheek, your thumb brushing over the stubble there. “You’re an amazing dad, Max.”

He covers your hand with his, his blue eyes softening as he looks at you. “I just ... I never thought I’d be this worried, you know? Driving at 300 kilometers an hour doesn’t scare me, but this ...”

“Because this is different,” you finish for him, understanding completely. “She’s your whole world now.”

“You both are,” he corrects, and you can see the emotion in his eyes, the depth of his feelings for both you and Emilia.

The flight attendant comes by to offer refreshments, and Max asks for a bottle of water before turning his attention back to you and Emilia. He takes a seat beside you, carefully cradling the baby as you hand her over. The moment Emilia is in his arms, the tension in his shoulders eases, and he looks down at her with the kind of adoration that makes your heart swell.

“Look at her,” he murmurs, as if he still can’t believe this little person is real, is his.

“She’s beautiful,” you agree softly.

Max leans back in his seat, holding Emilia close. She’s starting to doze off, her tiny mouth making little sucking motions even in her sleep. “I can’t wait for her to see her first race,” he says quietly, his voice full of anticipation and pride.

You smile, watching the way he looks at Emilia, as if she’s the most precious thing in the world. And to him, she is.

“Do you think she’ll like it?” You ask, leaning your head on his shoulder.

He chuckles softly. “I don’t know. But I hope so. Maybe she’ll be my little lucky charm.”

“She already is,” you say, closing your eyes for a moment, just soaking in the warmth of the moment.

The plane starts to taxi down the runway, and Max holds Emilia a little tighter, his other hand reaching out to take yours. The takeoff is smooth, but Max’s grip on your hand doesn’t loosen until you’re well into the air.

“She didn’t even stir,” you note, nodding towards Emilia, who’s still peacefully asleep in Max’s arms.

“She’s tougher than we give her credit for,” Max replies, smiling down at his daughter.

As the flight progresses, Max eventually relaxes enough to stop checking every detail of the cabin. He spends most of the time just watching Emilia sleep, occasionally glancing out the window at the clouds passing by. You can see the wheels turning in his head, and you know he’s already imagining what it will be like to have her at the track, to share that part of his life with her.

After a while, you start to feel the effects of the early morning and the flight. The gentle hum of the plane and the steady warmth of Max beside you lull you into a state of drowsiness. You lean against him, resting your head on his shoulder, your hand still holding his.

Max looks down at you, his heart swelling with a fierce protectiveness. This is his family, his girls, and he would do anything to keep you both safe, to make sure you’re happy. He kisses the top of your head, the gesture so natural, so filled with love, that it almost surprises him how right it feels.

As the plane flies steadily towards its destination, you drift off to sleep, the last thing you hear being Max whispering softly to Emilia, telling her about the first time he’ll take her to the paddock, how he’ll introduce her to everyone, how he’ll teach her everything he knows. His voice is filled with so much love and promise that it makes your heart ache in the best way possible.

And then, you’re asleep, resting peacefully against Max’s shoulder, while Emilia snoozes in his arms. Max stays like that for the rest of the flight, holding both of you close, his heart full and content.

***

The paddock buzzes with the usual pre-race excitement, but today, there's an extra layer of curiosity. People are craning their necks, whispering to each other, their eyes widening as Max Verstappen strolls through, an unusual sight to behold. Emilia is strapped to his chest in a baby carrier, her tiny hands grabbing at the fabric of Max’s shirt, while you walk beside him, pushing a stroller that’s more a mobile storage unit for all the baby essentials.

It’s your first time back at a race since everything changed, and the significance of the moment isn’t lost on you. Every step feels heavy with the weight of anticipation, not just for the race itself, but for the reactions you both know are coming. Max, usually so composed in these environments, seems a little tense. His hand rests protectively over Emilia, his thumb gently stroking her back as he navigates through the crowd.

As you walk together, you catch the eyes of team members, fans, and media alike, all of them stunned by the sight of Max — stoic, single-minded Max — suddenly a father. The whispers grow louder, cameras discreetly capturing the moment, and you feel the eyes of the entire paddock on you. But Max, despite the tension in his shoulders, keeps his focus on you and Emilia, blocking out the stares as best he can.

You try to smile, to project confidence, but you can’t shake the feeling of being exposed, vulnerable. It’s not just that this is your first time back in the paddock — it’s that this is the first time the world is seeing you, Max, and Emilia together. You brace yourself for the reactions, knowing they’ll come.

Max senses your unease and squeezes your hand, a silent reassurance that he’s with you every step of the way. “Ignore them,” he says quietly, his voice firm. “This is about us, not them.”

You nod, taking a deep breath as you push the stroller forward. Emilia, blissfully unaware of the attention, coos happily against Max’s chest, her tiny head resting against him. It’s that sound, that innocence, that gives you the strength to keep going.

As you walk further into the paddock, the sea of familiar faces starts to part for you, some people smiling warmly, others too shocked to do much more than gape. Max acknowledges a few of the team members with a nod, his usual stern expression softened by the presence of his daughter.

Then, as you turn a corner near the Red Bull garage, you see him. Charles, dressed in his Ferrari red, stands talking to a few engineers. His back is to you, and for a moment, you think you might pass by unnoticed. But then, as if sensing your presence, Charles turns.

The world seems to slow as his eyes lock onto Emilia. He freezes, his expression shifting from confusion to disbelief in a matter of seconds. His gaze flickers between you, Max, and the baby, and you can see the moment it all clicks for him. The green eyes, so like his own, staring back at him from the face of the baby strapped to Max’s chest.

“Max,” Charles says, his voice low, tight. His face flushes with a mix of emotions — shock, anger, betrayal. “What the hell is this?”

Max’s jaw tightens, but he stays calm. “Let’s not do this here.”

But Charles doesn’t seem to hear him. He takes a step closer, his eyes locked on Emilia, and you instinctively move closer to Max, as if you can shield your daughter from whatever’s about to happen.

“You had a baby?” Charles spits out, his voice rising with each word. “My baby?” He points at you, disbelief and fury written all over his face. “You stole my girlfriend and now you’re raising my child?”

The words hit like a slap, and you feel the blood drain from your face. You knew this confrontation was coming, but nothing could have prepared you for the intensity of it, for the venom in Charles’ voice.

Max steps forward, placing himself between you and Charles. “Watch what you’re saying,” he warns, his voice dangerously low. “Emilia is not your daughter. You gave up that right when you left her mother.”

Charles scoffs, his eyes narrowing as he looks at Max. “You think you can just replace me? That she’ll ever be yours?”

“She already is,” Max replies, his voice steady, unyielding. “She’s mine because I’m here for her, every day. Because I love her. And because you walked away.”

Charles looks like he’s about to explode. His fists clench at his sides, and for a moment, you think he might actually take a swing at Max. But instead, he turns his anger on you.

“And you,” he snaps, his voice dripping with contempt. “How could you do this? How could you let him take my place?”

The accusation stings, but before you can respond, Emilia starts to cry, the tension and raised voices too much for her to handle. The sound cuts through the air like a knife, and suddenly, all eyes are on the three of you, the scene unfolding like a car crash that no one can look away from.

Charles looks stricken at the sound of Emilia’s cries, but his anger doesn’t dissipate. If anything, it seems to fuel him further. “You think you can just replace me? That she won’t know who her real father is?”

Max’s composure finally breaks. He steps forward, his face inches from Charles, his voice deadly calm. “You lost the right to call yourself her father when you walked away from her mother without a second thought. Don’t you dare try to claim her now.”

“Max, please,” you whisper, your voice trembling as you reach out to him. But before you can pull him back, Charles lashes out.

“You think this is over? You think I’ll just let you play happy family with my daughter?”

“Stop it, Charles,” you plead, but your words fall on deaf ears.

Charles opens his mouth to respond, but Emilia’s cries grow louder, her tiny fists clenching in distress. Max’s expression hardens as he looks at Charles, then at his daughter, who’s clearly terrified by the escalating confrontation.

“That’s enough,” Max says, his voice firm. “You’re scaring her.”

But Charles doesn’t back down. He takes another step forward, his voice rising. “She’s mine, Max. And I’ll make sure she knows it.”

Emilia’s wails reach a fever pitch, and Max’s patience snaps. He takes a deep breath, his jaw clenching as he turns to you. “Take her,” he says softly, carefully unstrapping Emilia from the carrier and handing her to you. You can feel his hands shaking slightly as he passes her over, his control fraying at the edges.

You cradle Emilia close, trying to soothe her as you watch the standoff between Max and Charles with mounting dread.

Max squares his shoulders, turning back to Charles with a look that could freeze over hell. “If you ever come near her again,” he says, his voice cold as ice, “I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Charles’s eyes flash with anger, but he’s out of words, out of retorts. He glares at Max, then at you, before turning on his heel and storming away, his footsteps echoing down the paddock.

For a moment, everything is silent except for Emilia’s soft cries. The crowd that had gathered disperses, but not without a few lingering looks of shock and curiosity. You can feel the weight of their stares, the buzz of gossip that’s sure to follow, but all that matters is calming Emilia and holding it together for her.

Max stands there, his chest heaving, the adrenaline from the confrontation still coursing through his veins. He watches as Charles disappears from sight, then turns back to you, his expression softening as he sees the tears in your eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. “I didn’t want it to happen like this.”

You shake your head, unable to find the words to respond. Instead, you focus on Emilia, her cries quieting as she nuzzles against your chest, seeking comfort.

Max steps closer, his hand reaching out to touch your arm, grounding both of you. “Are you okay?” He asks gently, his eyes searching yours.

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I’m okay,” you manage to say, though your voice is shaky. “It’s just ... it’s a lot.”

“I know,” Max says, his voice filled with regret. “I wish I could make it all go away.”

You take a deep breath, feeling the tension start to ease as Max’s presence grounds you. “We’ll get through this,” you say softly, more for yourself than anyone else.

Max wraps an arm around you, pulling you close, his other hand resting on Emilia’s back. “We will,” he promises, his voice steady and sure. “We’re a family, and nothing’s going to change that.”

As you stand there, the chaos of the paddock fading into the background, you realize that no matter what happens, no matter what anyone says, you’re not alone in this. You have Max, and together, you’ll face whatever comes your way.

***

Max paces the length of his driver’s room, phone pressed to his ear, his voice low but urgent. Outside, the hum of the paddock continues, but inside, the tension is palpable. He runs a hand through his hair, the stress of the day catching up with him. His mind is a storm of thoughts, all centered on you and Emilia.

You stand at the doorway, hesitating as you hear his voice, too focused on the conversation to notice your presence. You can’t make out every word, but the ones you do catch make your heart pound in your chest.

“No, I don’t care what it takes,” Max says, his voice firm. “I want to make sure he has no rights. None. He can’t just walk back into her life and take her away.”

Your breath hitches, and you step closer, just out of his line of sight. Max pauses, listening to whoever’s on the other end of the call, his jaw clenched tight. The room feels smaller, the walls closing in, the gravity of what he’s discussing weighing heavily on your heart.

“Yes,” he says after a moment. “I’ve thought about that. Adoption. I want it to be official, as soon as possible. I want to be her dad in every way that matters.”

You feel like the air’s been knocked out of you. Your hand flies to your mouth, trying to contain the emotion that surges through you. You’ve always known that Max loves Emilia as his own, but hearing him talk about adoption, about making it official, is overwhelming. It’s everything you didn’t know you needed to hear.

Max’s back is to you, his shoulders tense, his free hand on his hip. “No, I don’t care about the PR fallout. She’s my daughter, and I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her.”

You can’t stay quiet any longer. “Max …”

He turns so quickly that he nearly drops his phone. His blue eyes widen in surprise, then soften when he sees you. He quickly wraps up the call, telling his lawyer he’ll be in touch soon, and hangs up, his attention solely on you now.

“How much did you hear?” He asks, a touch of worry in his voice as he approaches you.

“Enough,” you admit, your voice trembling with emotion. “You’re serious about this? About adopting her?”

Max stops in front of you, his hands gently taking yours. “Of course, I am,” he says softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “She’s mine, in every way that matters. I don’t want there to be any question about that. I want to make it official.”

Tears well up in your eyes, and you blink rapidly, trying to keep them from falling. “Max … I don’t even know what to say. You’re amazing, you know that?”

He smiles, but there’s a vulnerability in his eyes that tugs at your heart. “I just want to do what’s right for you and Emilia. You both mean everything to me.”

Your heart swells with so much love that it feels like it might burst. “I love you,” you whisper, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

Max’s eyes light up, and he pulls you into his arms, holding you close. “I love you too,” he murmurs against your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “So much.”

You bury your face in his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding you as you let the tears fall, tears of happiness, relief, and love. Max’s hand runs soothingly up and down your back, his touch reassuring, solid, and everything you need.

“I didn’t know if you’d want that,” you admit after a moment, your voice muffled against his shirt. “The adoption, I mean. I didn’t want to pressure you into anything.”

Max pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands cradling your face. “This isn’t about pressure,” he says earnestly. “This is about what I want. I want to be her dad, officially. I want us to be a family.”

His words hit you like a wave, and you can’t hold back the smile that breaks across your face. “We already are, Max. But … making it official … it would mean the world to me.”

He kisses you then, softly, sweetly, as if sealing the promise with his lips. When he pulls away, there’s a determination in his eyes that makes your heart race.

“We’ll get this sorted,” he says, his voice steady and sure. “Charles won’t be able to touch her. I’ll make sure of it.”

You nod, trusting him completely, knowing that whatever happens, Max will be there, by your side, protecting you and Emilia. He’s already proven that in so many ways.

“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning into his embrace. “For everything.”

Max presses another kiss to your forehead, lingering there as if he never wants to let go. “I’ll always be here for you,” he promises, his voice a gentle vow. “For both of you.”

You stay like that for a long moment, wrapped up in each other, the weight of the world outside the room forgotten. It’s just you, Max, and the love that’s grown between you, a love that’s only getting stronger with each passing day.

Eventually, Max steps back, his hand slipping into yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles again. “Come on,” he says softly, a small smile playing on his lips. “Let’s go check on Emilia.”

You smile back, feeling lighter than you have in days. “Yeah,” you agree, squeezing his hand. “Let’s.”

***

The FIA Prize Giving Ceremony is a glittering affair, with the most celebrated drivers in the world gathered under one roof, all eager to see who will take home the evening’s highest honors. The room is abuzz with energy, cameras flashing, and the air thick with anticipation. It’s a night of recognition, where the best of the best are acknowledged for their achievements on the track. But for you and Max, tonight is about something much more personal.

You sit beside Max at one of the front tables, your hands clasped together under the tablecloth. Max looks sharp in his tailored suit, but his usual air of calm confidence is tinged with a nervous excitement that he can’t quite hide. His eyes are fixed on the stage, where the host is just beginning to announce the next category: Rookie of the Year.

“... and the Rookie of the Year award goes to ... Emilia Verstappen!”

The applause is instantaneous, loud and enthusiastic, as the cameras pan across the audience. You squeeze Max’s hand, and he turns to you, his eyes shining with pride. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to — you can see everything he’s feeling written all over his face.

You both watch as Emilia makes her way to the stage, her long, dark hair cascading over her shoulders, the bright lights catching the sparkles in her gown. She moves with the grace and confidence of someone who’s been in the spotlight her entire life, but there’s still that youthful energy in her step, the excitement of someone just beginning to make her mark on the world.

When Emilia reaches the podium, she takes the award in her hands, the applause still roaring around her. She takes a moment to look out at the audience, her eyes searching until they find yours and Max’s. She smiles — a smile that’s a little bit of yours, a little bit of her biological father’s, and completely her own. The room gradually quiets down, and when she speaks, her voice is clear and steady, carrying through the hall.

“Wow, this is ... incredible. Thank you so much to the FIA, to my team, and to everyone who’s supported me this year. It’s been a wild ride, and I’m so grateful for every moment.”

She pauses, glancing down at the award in her hands, turning it over thoughtfully. “But there are two people I need to thank more than anyone else, because without them, I wouldn’t be standing here tonight.”

You feel Max’s grip on your hand tighten just slightly, as if bracing himself for what’s coming. He’s always been proud of Emilia, but tonight, the emotion is running deeper than ever.

“My parents,” Emilia continues, her voice growing softer, more heartfelt. “Mama, Papa ... I owe everything to you.”

The crowd is silent now, all eyes on the young woman at the podium, the daughter of one of the greatest drivers in Formula 1 history, but tonight, it’s clear that this is Emilia’s moment.

“Mama,” Emilia says, her gaze finding you again, “you’ve been my rock, my biggest supporter, and the person who’s always believed in me, even when I doubted myself. You taught me what it means to be strong, to never give up, and to follow my heart. I wouldn’t be who I am today without you.”

A lump forms in your throat, and you feel tears welling up in your eyes. You’ve watched Emilia grow from a baby into the remarkable young woman she is today, and hearing her speak these words is almost too much to bear. You squeeze Max’s hand again, finding comfort in his presence beside you.

“And Papa ...” Emilia’s voice catches slightly, and she takes a moment to steady herself. “I know I might not look like you, but no one can deny that I drive like you. You’ve taught me everything I know about racing, but more importantly, you’ve shown me what it means to be passionate, dedicated, and fearless. I’ve always wanted to make you proud, and I hope I’ve done that.”

Max can’t hold back the tears any longer. He blinks rapidly, trying to keep his emotions in check, but it’s no use. His eyes are wet, his chest tight with pride and love for his daughter. He nods, his lips pressed together in a tight line, as if trying to keep himself from breaking down completely.

You lean into him, resting your head against his shoulder, and he wraps his arm around you, pulling you close. In this moment, it’s just the three of you — everything else fades away.

Emilia takes a deep breath, her gaze sweeping across the audience one last time. “I’m so lucky to have parents like you. Thank you for everything. This award is as much yours as it is mine.”

The applause that follows is deafening, the crowd rising to their feet in a standing ovation. Emilia smiles, a little shy now that the speech is over, and nods her thanks before stepping back from the podium.

As the applause continues, Max turns to you, his eyes still glistening. “She’s incredible, isn’t she?”

You nod, too emotional to speak, your heart full to bursting with love for both of them. Max leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead, a silent acknowledgment of everything you’ve been through together to reach this moment.

The ceremony continues, but you’re not really paying attention anymore. You’re too lost in your thoughts, in the warmth of Max’s arm around you, in the overwhelming pride you feel for your daughter.

When Emilia returns to the table, the award in her hands, Max immediately pulls her into a tight hug. “I’m so proud of you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “So, so proud.”

Emilia hugs him back just as tightly, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “Thanks, Papa,” she whispers, her voice full of love. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

They hold each other for a long moment, and you can’t help but smile through your own tears. This is your family — your beautiful, wonderful, extraordinary family.

As the evening draws to a close and the final awards are handed out, you find yourself reflecting on the journey that brought you all here. It wasn’t always easy, and there were times when you weren’t sure how things would turn out. But standing here now, with Max and Emilia by your side, you know that every challenge, every hardship, was worth it.

As you all make your way out of the ceremony and into the cool night air, Emilia holds her award close, her eyes still shining with happiness. Max keeps his arm around you, his other hand resting on Emilia’s shoulder, as if he can’t bear to let either of you out of his reach.

When you reach the car, Max opens the door for you and Emilia, and you both slide inside. As Max takes his seat behind the wheel, he glances over at you, his expression soft and full of love.

“Ready to go home?” He asks, his voice gentle.

You nod, smiling at him, your heart full. “Yeah,” you reply, reaching over to take his hand. “Let’s go home.”

As Max drives through the quiet streets, Emilia leans her head against your shoulder, her award still clutched in her hands. You glance at her, at the peaceful expression on her face, and feel a surge of contentment wash over you.

This is what it’s all about, you realize. This is the life you’ve built together, the family you’ve created. And as you sit there, surrounded by the people you love most in the world, you know that no matter what the future holds, you’ll face it together — just as you always have.

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that-jax

4 months ago

Hot for Teacher (Professor! Tom Hiddleston x fem! Reader Oneshot)

Summary: After being private about your relationship, your professor boyfriend, Tom Hiddleston, introduces you to his students.

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: Some thirsty comments and cursing, but no smut. Established relationship and lots of fluffy moments. Grammar and spelling mistakes that slipped past me. Reader not being a student and being an Adult Adult (tm). A big fancy ball because I decided not some hum drum party was gonna do. (I'm the writer, I can do what I want). I rip off YouTube comments and Ana Huang and stuff I see on Tiktok and Instagram.

A/N: For @holdmytesseract's request! I am sorry this took a while due to stuff happening, but here it is!!!

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr

You always visited the campus coffee shop on Mondays at 10 am to overhear students being thirsty for your boyfriend. You couldn’t help but stifle a giggle at their comments. They were leaving their English Literature Survey class. Only they weren’t discussing books.

“Sooo nice of him to lower the word count for the essay, he knows it’s a lot.”

“Holy crap, did you see how tight his shirt was today? I could practically see his titties.”

“He needs to quote Shakespeare again. I think I’m developing a kink.”

“If I caught my girl in bed with Professor Hiddleston, I’d tuck him in.”

“If I was at the club and Professor Hiddleston was hitting on my girl, I’d start to cry…because he didn’t choose me.”

“I’m a hardcore lesbian, but Professor Hiddleston is on my cheat card.”

“I’m a hardcore asexual, but Professor Hiddleston is so hot that if I had to get pregnant I’d want him to do the honors.”

You sipped up your drink, sitting in a far corner. Smiling bright as you heard them. Stifling a laugh so hard you could feel your drink always threatened to snort out of your nose. You would cup your face, ensuring they didn’t take note of you. Even get out the notes app on your phone to type them down. Not that you’d ever show him.

He was their hot Professor. But to you, he was just Tom.

Just Tom. A boyfriend who cared for you respected you, and listened to you. Who did the bare minimum and so much more. They didn’t know his flaws, living with each other's smells and body odors and functions and insecurities. And the little, beautiful moments that made you all the more in love with him. How you would both go to bookstores and geek out after certain works, make a mess in the kitchen trying a new recipe, or stay in your pajamas until 1 pm watching something on the TV. Did they know how loud he snored at night? Or how sensitive his neck was? Or that he was fidgety if he sat too long?

Then one of them said “His girlfriend is one lucky ass bitch. I wonder what she’s like?”

“Oh…he hasn’t said anything about a girlfriend, do you think…he’s single?!” one asked.

They all shot up like meerkats with big smiles.

You froze, only staring quietly at your drink.

Tom didn’t talk about you in class. Nothing. Nada. Goose eggs. They didn't know you existed.

So far you were sure they were not little homewreckers- not successfully, at least. You trusted Tom and he trusted you and his students respected his boundaries. But he blocked them on social media so they wouldn’t dig anything about him. Tom was a private person and he wanted that to be respected by his students.

When you both met to hang out and make dinner later that evening- his special Spaghetti bolognese recipe, he gave you a hug and kiss on your head.

“Oh, you missed a spot!” you teased.

His eyes crinkled beneath his glasses.

“Oh- uh,” he voiced out.

You dived in to kiss him on the lips, his beard scratching your chin.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Oh, just fine. Your students were…wondering about me today. I saw them at the shop.”

“They didn’t recognize you?”

“No- they don’t know what I look like. Or about me, period…we’ve kept it that way…”

Both of you got into the kitchen, rolling up your sleeves and preparing the pasta and sauce. It smelled of garlic, onion, and olive oil, making your stomach rumble. How easily smelling that in a kitchen could solve all of your problems!

He smiled at you. Then, as the pasta was set to boil in the pot, he turned to you. His sleeves rolled up (making you giddy inside) and his face was a little flushed from the heat of the steam from cooking.

“My angel, I don’t want to keep you in hiding- and you shouldn’t.”

“Tom, what do you mean?” you asked. You stirred the sauce, then tapped the spoon and set it on a jar for attempted cleanliness.

I love you. And this is a part of my life…would you like to meet them? I promise you, they won’t hurt you. I won’t let them!”

He went up to hug you from behind and you watched the simmering food.

You paused, taking in a breath. What were you afraid of? Were you ashamed of Tom or being with him? No, not a bit.

You turned around to face him.

“They’re college kids. They’re basically puppies…I think I’d like to meet them.” you agreed

--:::------::------------------->◇<--------------------::------:::---

You both decided what event it should be that you would meet them. There were events called Bookish Balls that were all the rage now. It was a prom for adults. Proms where everyone dressed like fantasy characters and showed off costumes and even cosplays. It was everything from complex armor to a dress with some elf ears on.

You knew he had a Shakespearean-era outfit from a play he did that he kept you just had to find the right look. It would be more exciting and less creepy then if you jumped on them at the mall like a pair of stalkers.

And the ball looked like fun.

You and Tom both arrived. He was in his Shakespearean garb and crown. You had your own outfit- you adored it. You couldn’t help but look at each large mirror you walked by as you walked down the dim hallways with carpeted floors.

All the students were talking about it- tickets were 60 percent off for students. Since they were all raving about these hot new fantasy books between their required reading of Dickens. They all rattled their iced coffees like maracas and gossiped and shared pics of their outfits on their phones every day before class according to Tom. Most of them would all be there.

Little did they know their Professor was going to be there, as well as his girlfriend.

You both arrived at the fine, fancy hotel. Tom was dressed in his leather doublet and pants with a large cape and a grand crown. Ever the king. You had splurged on the fancy outfit you wanted badly- and you felt as if you were a heroine in a story as you walked through.

“You look stunning- they’re going to adore you,” Tom assured you.

You hoped so. If they met you and humiliated you in some way tonight or after, you would move to Antarctica and learn to speak penguin.

Taking his arm and feeling like royalty, you both went down the fine large building. You saw people gathered. There were some stage lights and the large gala room had trees with flowers everywhere as well as thrones, little game booths photo booths, and a banquet. And, of course, a packed dance floor. A live band played. Many people wore crowns and wings and elf ears and were dancing away with zeal. Women twirled their ballgown skirts with smiles so big it lit them up. Many flicked their capes dramatically or wrapped around them like blankets. There were fairy lights and glitter everywhere and there were photo ops and even a costume contest. It was in full sway.

Including a crowd that included Tom’s students. They jumped up in time to the song, breathlessly singing along to every word.

Tom held out your hand, both of you feeling like the king and queen looking over their jubilant subjects. You both walked down. Hoping your outfit looked as nice on you as you hoped it would.

The song was entering its last chorus. The student's backs were turned and their capes and wings were bouncing as they danced. They hadn’t noticed you yet.

He went to his group of students and cleared his throat. At once they turned their heads.

They looked at him and then you and their jaws dropped.

Tom said.“hello, here is Y/N, my beautiful, amazing girlfriend.” He then leaned you in and gave you a kiss on the cheek.

All of their eyes bugged out of their skulls and jaws dropped like broken nutcrackers among them.

You were worried the girls in the group would glare at you like they were going to rip out your stomach intestines.

But instead, all of them collapsed into a collective “AAaaaaawwwwwww, hello!” and “What?! WHAT?!” Their eyes flitted toward Tom in tight leather (who wouldn’t?) and you in your presence.

You went up like in any social situation. You gave them a smile- warm, genuine, polite, and friendly.

“Hi there, it’s nice to meet you- I heard all about you guys!”

You shook their hands. You got to meet them and learn names- Kelly, Hailey, Jessie, Emily, Daniel, Isaiah, Chase, Cameron, Kat, Miranda, Edgar, and so many more your head spun. But you eventually got it with practice.

But they let you dance with them. Be relaxed and have fun. It moved from a band to a playlist of all the classic dance songs. The band blasted Single Ladies and the girls invited you, dragging you in. You tried to copy the moves from the music video, but couldn’t quite and they all burst into laughter anyway.

It then slowed down- it was a ballad, the Cody Fry song about falling in love being like a symphony.

“Well…could I have a dance with my lady?” Tom asked, holding out his hand.

They gasped and looked at you.

“Oh, what a gentleman! I’d be delighted!” you said, accepting his hand.

They let you and Tom have a slow dance- how handsome he looked in the light, beaming at you. They smiled as if they were watching a rom-com at the end. There were no angry glares- at most, some looked a little reflective and sad. But none dared interrupt the moment with you and Tom.

Would they hate you after seeing the affection?

If so, they shut their mouths and minded their beeswax about it.

There were loads of pictures- you were willing to take some (they were seeing you as the surrogate Adult Adult more than their adults) and they included you in some, including some selfies.

Tom excused himself and returned with even brought you a little plate of food. a plate full of little sandwiches, cheeses, and fruits. You both rested your feet and shared some, feeling their eyes on you. For dessert, there were some gooey brownies that melted in your mouth. Tom eagerly grabbed some, his large hands packing as many brownies as he could.

But you realized his beard had streaks of chocolate brownies on it, you burst into laughter and you heard some giggling from the students too.

“Oh, let me take care of that!” you offered.

You got out a handkerchief and wiped it off of him. You definitely heard “awwwws” in the distance. Looking at it, his beard was now clean.

“There you go! But dashing as always!” you said.

He held your hand and kissed it. The “AWWWWWS” got louder in the back and you both had to suppress your laughter.

Rejoining the students, you saw them less as little judges or would-be homewreckers. You got to talk to them. Maybe you judged them harshly- you remembered being in college when you were that young too. Of course, they grumbled about the coursework sometimes and you gave your own insight.

“Oh- you’re seriously reading Persuasion? Oh, just wait! Austen takes some time to get used to when you read her stuff- read them slowly and you will catch onto what’s happening! The yearning in that one is beautiful” you encouraged a distraught Hailey.

You even discussed what fantasy books they were into and got some more recommendations for your ever-growing TBR. And at the end, every last person in the crowd gathered and danced. You and Tom joined the students with big grins and aching feet, but you wouldn’t stop until that last song ended its phrase. No drama. No pettiness. And no hiding. No fear. Just people at a party. Young and happy and alive.

--:::------::------------------->◇<--------------------::------:::---

The other morning, you were back at the coffee shop. Waiting on them. Soon enough, they arrived in their band, though you remained in the corner.

“I couldn’t believe he had a girlfriend!” Daniel gasped.

“Really?! I’m not! A man that fine can have his pick,” Kelly commented.

They began to all get iced coffees and gather around.

“She is gorgeous- didn’t you see her at that ball!? And she’s super nice!”

“Yeah…I want them to be happy and he seems so happy-”

“Oh, he is cheesing after her- you saw how he smiled?! And how he got the plate for her? Like, he’s a walking green flag!”

‘She’s so lucky!

“Listen, I am glad they’re happy…I just wish it were me…”

They all sighed and agreed,. You waited for that whole vibe of that phrase to blow away.

Then, quietly you walked over.

“Hello everyone,” you said.

They gasped and turned heads.

“YN! YN, hi!” one boy, what was his name- oh yes, Cameron!-said.

“Oh, I just wanted to pop by,” you added.

Then, Emily stood up. She got out a chair from one table and moved it over to where everyone sat .

“Do you have anywhere to be? You can…you can join us! You’re welcome to!”

You smiled at them and took a seat.

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that-jax

5 years ago

↳ (mutated Red Panda Hybrid) Bakugou Katsuki x (male, human, artist) Reader ► This is a world where Hybrids are held as mere pets, having no rights and many of them homeless. Where scientists experiment daily to make the most perfect combination of human and animal, making them grow up in a span of a few months, superior to their ancestors, more intelligent and more obedient. Katsuki was born into this world, or better, he was created – a failed experiment, abandoned by the lab and tossed onto the streets to die. So, was it going to be his ticket to happiness, or was it his death sentence?

Words: 1,654 Google Doc AN: I… am so excited~ I hope you’ll enjoy the beginning of this lil multiple part project 💕- Celine 🦈 Part 2 //

⋇⋆💥⋆⋇⋇⋆💥⋆⋇⋇⋆💥⋆⋇⋇⋆💥⋆⋇⋇⋆💥⋆⋇⋇⋆💥⋆⋇

Pulling the sunglasses from your head, you wiped away the sweat on your face with the back of your hand before putting them on again, protecting your eyes from the harsh summer sun as you were walking away from the shop, one small bag in your hand because you were clumsy and spilled your last bottle of ink, making you suffer and actually go out while the heat was literally baking you.

Keep reading

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that-jax

4 years ago

My Body Is Failing

Hi everyone, I'm a disabled intersex jewish lesbian. My mucous membranes are literally sloughing off layers of skin and im in agony. please help me cover my cost of living while i struggle to figure out what the hell is happening to me. I have not been working consistently due to this. Thank you for taking the time to read this and stay safe

im trying this again, i hope the gofundme helps with visibility. please reblog, i dont have a large social circle to help signal boost. thank you so much everyone!

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