#I like to drink my little drinks :( but no drink today :(

[callsigns-haze]

-ˋˏ The week it all went south ˎˊ-

Part 1

Pairing: Azriel x Rhysand's sister!reader

Azriel has the perfect life. You as his wife. Kaia as his daughter. But him and the boys are stupid enough to challenge you for a week and then his perfect life might simply...disappear

Warning: FUTURE ANGST, mentions of past lovers, mentions of sex, cursing, kissing.

Word count: 13937

Rhysand's office was dimly lit, the soft glow of faelight casting long shadows over the dark mahogany furniture. The air smelled faintly of leather, ink, and the rich tang of spiced wine. Cassian leaned back in one of the armchairs, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, while Azriel sat with his customary stillness, though his eyes betrayed the warmth of someone entirely at ease. Rhysand, perched on the edge of his desk, held his own drink with the casual elegance he always seemed to exude.

“Remind me again,” Cassian said, breaking the comfortable silence. “Why do we still have to deal with these Illyrian males who think they’re gods’ gift to training camps? I’ve been dealing with one this week who couldn’t even hold his sword properly, and he still had the audacity to call himself a warrior.”

Rhysand snorted, taking a sip of his drink. “Because if we don’t, they’ll tear themselves apart—or worse, decide to revolt again. You’re good at handling them, Cass.”

“Good at handling them?” Cassian scoffed. “I’ve got three sons at home who listen better than most of those arrogant bastards.”

Rhysand smirked. “That says more about Nesta than it does you.”

Azriel chuckled softly, the sound rare but genuine. “How are your boys doing, anyway?”

Cassian’s face softened instantly, a smile tugging at his lips. “Torran’s growing too fast. He’s already outpacing me in drills. Emrys is still too young to care about swords, which drives Torran insane. And little Calen—” He shook his head, laughing. “That one’s going to be the death of me. He’s climbing everything he sees. Nesta caught him on the roof last week.”

Azriel raised a brow. “The roof?”

Cassian nodded grimly. “Nesta nearly burned the house down when she found him. I don’t know whether to be proud or terrified. Probably both.”

Rhysand laughed, tipping his glass toward Cassian. “Sounds like you’ve got your hands full.”

“And you don’t?” Cassian shot back. “How’s Nyx? Still giving you and Feyre a run for your money?”

Rhysand sighed dramatically. “Thirteen is...a challenge. He’s inherited Feyre’s stubbornness and my sharp tongue, which is a dangerous combination.”

Cassian snorted. “Sounds like poetic justice to me.”

Rhysand ignored him. “He’s growing into his powers faster than we expected. Sometimes I don’t know whether to be proud or worried. Feyre’s convinced he’s going to be stronger than both of us one day.”

“He probably will be,” Azriel said simply, his voice laced with quiet confidence.

Rhysand tilted his head, considering. “Maybe. But I still have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

Azriel shook his head slightly, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Nyx will outpace you before you know it.”

Cassian grinned. “And then you’ll know what it feels like when your kids don’t need you to teach them anymore.”

Rhysand rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. He turned to Azriel. “Speaking of kids, how’s Kaia?”

Azriel’s expression softened instantly, the shadows around him retreating. “She’s...perfect. Curious about everything. She spent half an hour today chasing after her own shadow, trying to figure out why it wouldn’t go away.” His voice was tinged with amusement and an unmistakable love.

Cassian leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “And YN? Is she keeping up with her?”

Azriel gave a quiet laugh. “Barely. Kaia’s too quick for her own good. YN says she’s going to start making me run after her when she gets tired.”

Rhysand smirked. “You always were the fastest, Az. Seems fitting.”

Azriel shot him a look, though it lacked any real venom. “I’ll remind you of that when you’re chasing Nyx through Velaris at two in the morning.”

Cassian laughed, raising his glass in a mock toast. “To fatherhood. The most exhausting battle we’ve ever fought.”

The other two raised their glasses, the clink of crystal filling the room.

Rhysand’s gaze flicked between them, his expression uncharacteristically soft. “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”

Cassian nodded, his tone uncharacteristically serious. “Yeah, we have.”

The door to Rhysand's office creaked open just enough for a small, tousled head to peek inside. Azriel’s sharp gaze flicked to the doorway, his eyes softening as Kaia’s little feet padded across the stone floor. Without hesitation, she ran straight to him, her tiny wings fluttering in a haphazard attempt to take off.

“Dada!” she squealed, her voice high-pitched and filled with excitement. She launched herself into his arms with a giggle, and Azriel caught her effortlessly, pulling her close.

“Kaia,” Azriel murmured, pressing a kiss to her messy hair. “What are you doing up, sweetheart?”

She tilted her head, big amber eyes that mirrored his looking up at him with feigned innocence. “I no want bath,” she said, wrinkling her little nose in distaste. Her chubby arms wrapped around him tighter. “Mama say I need bath... but I hide!”

Azriel’s lips twitched at the sight of her determination. “You hid from your mama to come find me?”

Kaia nodded vigorously, her curls bouncing with every movement. “Ye! I run real fast! Hide so no bath! No bath, Dada!” Her words were still jumbled with her toddler speech, but the meaning was clear enough.

Cassian leaned forward in his chair, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “What about me, huh? I don’t get a hug?”

Kaia squinted at him, brows furrowing as if trying to understand. After a moment, she shook her head and pointed a finger at him accusingly. “You too loud!” she declared with absolute certainty, her little lips pouting. “You talk all da time. I no like.”

Cassian laughed, throwing his head back. “Too loud? I’m the fun one, Kaia. You can’t just pick favourites like that.”

But Kaia was already halfway out of his reach, shifting in Azriel’s lap as she snuggled in closer to him. Her tiny hands reached up and tugged at Rhysand’s dark hair, as if the pull of his long strands was just too tempting.

“Rhysie,” she said with a giggle, her toddler voice softening the name into something both endearing and mischievous. Rhysand chuckled, allowing her to yank on his hair without complaint.

“You’re a little troublemaker, Kaia,” Rhysand said, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as she pulled harder, then instantly snuggled back into Azriel’s side.

“Don’t pull on Rhysie’s hair, sweetling,” Azriel said gently, though there was a fond smile on his face. He wrapped an arm tighter around her as she cuddled against his chest, clearly not bothered by his warning.

“No bath!” Kaia protested again, her speech barely coherent as she pouted. “Mama no get me! I run! I hide!” She giggled again, clearly proud of herself. “Mama say I need clean. I say no! I say no bath, no bath, no bath!”

Azriel shook his head, chuckling softly as he ran his fingers through her dark hair. “You’re very clever, little one.” He looked at the others, sharing a silent understanding that there was no way Kaia was going back to the bath tonight.

Cassian grinned. “Alright, no bath. But only if you tell me a secret first, Kaia.”

She leaned back in Azriel’s lap, her tiny face scrunched up in thought. “A secret?” she asked, sounding very serious for a two-year-old.

“Yes, a secret,” Cassian insisted. “Tell me something nobody else knows.”

Kaia looked around the room, her eyes narrowing as she thought harder. Then, after a long pause, she smiled brightly. “I cookies,” she whispered loudly, leaning in to make sure Cassian heard. “I no share cookie.”

Everyone laughed, even Rhysand shaking his head with a smile. “That’s a secret?” he teased.

Kaia nodded vigorously. “Big swecret!” she insisted, then looked up at Azriel with all the sweetness in the world. “Dada... no bath?”

Azriel kissed the top of her head. “No bath tonight, sweetheart. But you’ve gotta let me have a drink with the guys now, okay?”

Kaia looked at him seriously, her little brows furrowing. “I no want drink. I want you,” she said, her tone pleading.

Azriel’s heart softened. “I’m here,” he whispered. “Always.”

Kaia settled back into his arms, clearly satisfied. “Okay, Dada. You stay.”

Kaia, content and warm in Azriel’s arms, relaxed into him, her little body soft and pliable as she burrowed closer. Azriel’s wings adjusted slightly, folding around her like a protective cocoon as she curled up against his chest, her tiny hands clasping at the fabric of his tunic. Her hair—so dark and wild—spilled across his arm, and her breath came slow and steady as she began to doze off, her toddler body relaxing against the weight of his warmth.

The low murmur of conversation from the men around them filled the air, but Kaia wasn’t paying attention. Instead, her tiny fingers traced the markings on his arm absentmindedly, her face nuzzled into the crook of his neck. She was already half asleep, the soft and steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling her further.

Cassian was leaning back in his chair, hands folded behind his head, giving Azriel a teasing look. "You know, I thought Azriel was the quiet one," he said, glancing toward Rhysand with a raised brow. "But now we’ve got the next generation in here, and she’s already taking after her dad. Quiet as a shadow."

Azriel chuckled softly, a quiet sound that only made Kaia snuggle deeper into him. “She doesn’t stay quiet when she wants something,” he murmured, though his voice held the tenderness that came with his love for her.

Rhysand, ever the calm presence, took a slow sip of his drink. “She has a strong will,” he said thoughtfully. “Wonder where she got that from? You or my sister?” He shot a playful glance toward Azriel.

Azriel only gave him a quiet look of warning, his fingers running through Kaia’s soft hair as her breath deepened, little snores just beginning to escape her. He spoke in a low, affectionate tone. “She’s more than just willful. She’s clever. She knows how to get what she wants.”

Cassian grinned. “She’s got you wrapped around her finger already, doesn’t she?”

Azriel’s gaze softened as he looked down at her, his wings fluttering lightly in the quiet, the weight of her trust settling over him. “She knows exactly how to work her way around me.”

“She’s two,” Cassian teased. “Wait until she’s ten, and she’ll have you wrapped up in knots.”

“I’ll be ready,” Azriel said with a soft smile, though the idea of her growing up so quickly left a bittersweet taste in his mouth. He kissed her forehead gently, almost imperceptibly, as she murmured something unintelligible in her sleep.

The conversation drifted away from him as he allowed himself to enjoy this brief, peaceful moment with his daughter, the calm of the room enveloping them. But as the men continued to talk, there was a soft shuffle of footsteps, and Kaia’s small head jerked up from Azriel’s chest, her sleepy eyes blinking rapidly.

“Dada,” she whispered, her little voice thick with sleep. “Mama?”

Azriel stroked her hair gently, reassuring her. “It’s alright, sweetheart. Go back to sleep.”

But Kaia’s curiosity had already taken over. She sat up suddenly, rubbing her eyes as she looked around the room. "Mama? I hide!” she said with a gleam of mischief in her voice, suddenly more awake and alert. Her eyes darted across the room as if calculating the best place to hide from YN. Without warning, she hopped off Azriel’s lap, her tiny wings fluttering in excitement. She scampered to the couch and dove under the blanket with an exaggerated puff of air, pulling it over her head, only her little feet sticking out.

Azriel watched her with a fond, amused expression, shaking his head slightly. “Kaia, you can’t keep hiding from Mama,” he warned softly, though there was no real reprimand in his tone.

Kaia’s voice came from under the blanket, muffled but still clear. “Mama no find me,” she said with utter confidence. Her tiny legs wiggled, her feet kicking the blanket in her excitement. “I hide, Dada! I good at hide!”

Cassian and Rhysand both chuckled at the sight. Rhysand’s eyes twinkled as he looked over at Azriel. “Looks like she’s more like you than we thought. You used to hide from your problems too.”

Azriel gave him a pointed look. “I don’t hide.”

“Of course not,” Rhysand said smoothly, though there was an unmistakable smirk on his face. “Kaia certainly doesn’t.”

Kaia, apparently content with her decision to hide, made little giggling noises from beneath the blanket. Azriel’s wings unfolded slightly in amusement, and he reached for her, gently pulling back the blanket to find her face all scrunched up in concentration as she tried to remain hidden.

“I see you, little one,” Azriel said softly, and Kaia’s giggles broke free as she peeked out, eyes wide with a mix of delight and mischief.

“I’m good hide, Dada!” she announced, her tiny hands still clutching at the blanket.

Azriel smiled, brushing a lock of hair from her face as she crawled back onto his lap, snuggling against him once more. “You are, sweetheart. But no more hiding from Mama. She’s coming.”

Kaia frowned for a moment, but the promise of staying with her daddy seemed to cheer her up. “No Mama. No bath,” she muttered, her speech still jumbled but full of intent. “Hide more!”

Azriel chuckled, knowing full well that this little one would give her mama a run for her money.

The soft sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway before the door to Rhysand’s office creaked open, and you stepped inside. Immediately, your eyes flicked to the sight before you—Azriel, seated comfortably in one of the chairs, his dark wings enveloping his daughter, who was curled up in his lap, asleep but still warm from the lingering glow of her playful energy.

You smirked as you took in the scene. Cassian and Rhysand were deep in conversation, but both looked up at you the moment you entered, the tension of their talks easing into an unspoken amusement. They’d seen that look before—the one where you were hunting for something (or someone) you didn’t want to admit was far too skilled at evading capture.

“I’m searching for a runaway,” you said with a teasing lilt to your voice, crossing your arms. Your gaze fell onto the small figure tucked against Azriel’s chest, her hair a wild halo of dark curls, her little body completely at ease despite her escape attempt.

Azriel’s head tilted slightly as he met your eyes, and a soft smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He knew exactly what you were talking about.

“You mean Kaia, don’t you?” Rhysand’s voice was dry, but the glint in his eyes betrayed his amusement. “I’m sure she’s hiding from you because she knows exactly what’s coming.”

“I’m sure she’s just lost in thought,” Azriel replied, though the way he shifted Kaia gently in his arms suggested he was trying to keep her in her comfortable cocoon. “She was really adamant about not needing a bath.”

“Oh, she’s very good at that,” you said, walking further into the room. “I thought I’d check in with you guys, but it looks like you’ve got her well in hand.” You looked pointedly at Azriel, whose face had softened as he ran his fingers through Kaia’s hair.

Kaia shifted in Azriel’s lap, her eyes half-lidded, but she was still awake, and the moment she heard your voice, her little face scrunched up in exaggerated suspicion. She slowly lifted her head, her tiny wings fluttering behind her as she tried to blink the sleep from her eyes.

“No Mama!” Kaia protested, throwing her arms over her face as if it would somehow shield her from the inevitable. “Hide! I hide, no bath!”

You sighed dramatically, taking a step closer, feigning exasperation. “Kaia, sweetheart, don’t you want to be all nice and clean for the night? I was just coming to check on my two favourite people, but I see that one of them is being a little troublemaker.” You crouched down in front of her, smiling at her defiant little pout.

She peeked from beneath her arms, and her lip trembled, her voice barely a whisper. “No Mama. No bath. I hide. I hide from Mama, Dada.”

Azriel chuckled softly, his voice low and soothing. “She’s good at hiding, love. I’ve tried to tell her it’s not going to work.”

“Oh, I know it won’t work,” you said, reaching out to pull the blanket off her tiny form. “But it’s adorable to watch her try.”

Kaia giggled as the blanket was pulled away, exposing her to you. Her small hands shot up to her face again in an attempt to shield herself. “No, no, no bath! I hide. I good hide!”

“You are a very good hider, sweetheart.” You reached down to scoop her up gently, ignoring her protest. She squirmed a little but melted against you when she realized there was no escape. “But no more running. It’s time for a bath.”

Kaia, however, wasn’t about to give up so easily. “I no need bath,” she declared with a loud puff of air. “I already clean! I clean!”

Rhysand’s laugh echoed through the room. “I believe that’s a no, then.”

You shot him a quick, amused glance. “A very determined no, at that. I think she might be more stubborn than any of us.”

Azriel’s eyes softened as he gazed at Kaia, still nestled against you. “She gets that from her mother.”

“She might also get it from her father,” you teased, raising an eyebrow as you shifted Kaia onto your hip.

“Not that much,” Azriel protested, though the warmth in his voice made it clear he didn’t mind at all.

“I’ll let you both deal with her when she’s three,” you said, already walking toward the door with Kaia clinging to you like a tiny koala. “For now, she’s still in the stage where she’s cute enough to get away with anything.”

Cassian laughed. “Good luck with that, YN. I’ve had a lot of practice with troublemakers, but I’m pretty sure Kaia’s going to be next-level.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “I’m well aware, Cassian.”

Azriel’s eyes followed you as you walked out the door, Kaia’s arms wrapped tightly around you. “You sure you want to take her?”

You glanced back at him and smiled, a playful glint in your eyes. “She’s your daughter, Azriel. I think you’ve had your turn.”

Kaia let out a loud whine, her small hand tugging at your collar. “No bath!” she repeated, her toddler words still as adorably clear as ever. “I no bath, Mama!”

“I know, sweetheart. I know,” you said, kissing her forehead.

As you carried Kaia toward the door, her little protests still filling the air, you paused and turned back to the three men lounging in the office. Cassian was leaning so far back in his chair it looked like he might tip over, Rhysand was swirling his drink with all the leisure of a man who had nothing but time, and Azriel—well, Azriel was looking at you with that calm, unruffled expression, even though you knew he was just as guilty as the other two.

You narrowed your eyes playfully. “You know, I have a theory,” you said, bouncing Kaia slightly as she rested her head against your shoulder.

“A theory, hmm?” Rhysand drawled, one brow arching as he took another slow sip of his drink. “Do enlighten us.”

You smirked. “It’s funny how every time Feyre, Nesta, and I are up to our necks with the kids—” you glanced at Azriel meaningfully, “—all of you somehow end up here. Drinking. Relaxing. Laughing like life is oh-so-easy.”

Cassian snorted, his grin widening as he set his drink down. “We’re strategizing,” he said, far too defensively to be believable. “Important things. Illyrian training. You know, for the next generation.”

“Right,” you said, shifting Kaia to your other hip. “Strategizing. Because obviously, the best way to deal with a horde of screaming children is to sit in Rhysand’s office with a glass of whiskey.”

“I think it’s working,” Rhysand chimed in smoothly, giving you a wink. “Look how relaxed we are.”

Kaia, as if on cue, perked up just enough to lift her head and point a chubby finger at Rhysand. “Rhysie no help!” she declared, her toddler voice loud and certain.

You grinned. “Exactly, Kaia. Rhysie no help.” You turned toward the door, raising your voice just enough to carry down the hallway. “Nesta! You’ve got to come see this. The boys are in here strategizing while we’re busy running after all the kids.”

A moment later, you heard footsteps approaching, quick and purposeful, and then Nesta appeared in the doorway, her sharp gaze sweeping over the room. “Let me guess,” she said, crossing her arms and tilting her head. “Drinking and lounging while we’re doing all the work?”

Cassian, who had the audacity to look pleased to see her, leaned back even further in his chair. “We’re taking a much-needed break, sweetheart. You know how exhausting strategizing can be.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “Strategizing, huh? And what exactly have you been strategizing, Cassian?”

“Training,” Cassian replied smoothly. “The future. Our sons.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Of course. You’re strategizing, and we’re dealing with three boys who’ve decided that walls are optional for flying practice.”

Cassian sat up straighter, a smirk playing at his lips. “That sounds like good training to me.”

Nesta shot him a look that could have frozen the Sidra. “It’s destruction, Cassian.”

Kaia, catching onto the tension, buried her face against your shoulder, peeking out just enough to whisper, “Cassy in trouble?”

“Yes, Kaia,” you said, grinning. “Cassy’s in big trouble.”

Azriel, who had been quietly observing the exchange with an amused smile, finally spoke up. “To be fair,” he said softly, “the boys did ask for a break.”

“Of course they did,” you said, shaking your head. “Meanwhile, Feyre and I had to chase Nyx off the roof again, and Nesta’s youngest is trying to figure out how to set a trap for the twins.”

Rhysand chuckled, raising his glass toward Nesta. “To the mothers of the Inner Circle. The true warriors among us.”

Nesta raised a brow but didn’t take the bait. “You’re lucky we haven’t strung all of you up yet.”

Cassian leaned forward, grinning as he motioned toward the empty chair next to him. “Why don’t you join us, sweetheart? You deserve a break, too.”

Nesta sighed but finally walked over, claiming the chair with a regal grace. She glanced at you as you shifted Kaia again, who had started to drift off once more. “I’m not doing this alone, YN,” she said. “Feyre deserves to see this, too.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” you replied, smirking as you moved toward the door. “I’m going to send her in next. Let’s see how long your little strategy session lasts once the rest of us are here.”

Azriel’s quiet laugh followed you out, and you heard Cassian groan, “She’s bluffing, right?”

Rhysand’s amused voice was the last thing you heard before you turned the corner. “You know better than that, Cassian.”

You didn’t make it far before you paused, a smirk creeping across your face. “You know what? Feyre does need to see this now.” Adjusting Kaia on your hip, you turned back toward the hallway and called out, “Feyre! You might want to come take a look at this.”

The sound of footsteps echoed moments later, and Feyre appeared, her hair slightly mussed, her expression one of mild exasperation. “What is it now? Did Nyx try to jump off something again?”

“Not this time,” you said, gesturing toward the office. “But you’ll want to see what our fearless mates and brothers are up to while we’re busy chasing after their children.”

Feyre raised a brow and stepped into the room, her gaze sweeping over the scene—the three men lounging in comfort, glasses of whiskey in hand, all looking far too pleased with themselves.

“Well, well,” Feyre said, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe. “What do we have here? A secret meeting?”

Rhysand’s lips curved into a slow smile as he gestured to the empty seat next to him. “Join us, darling. We were just discussing the intricacies of basic Illyrian training.”

Feyre scoffed, striding further into the room. “Basic Illyrian training, hmm? Is that what you call this little boys’ club?”

“I think it’s cute,” you chimed in, bouncing Kaia slightly as she started to squirm. “They’re pretending they’re doing something important while we’re out there making sure their children don’t destroy Velaris.”

Nesta, still seated beside Cassian, smirked and gestured toward Feyre. “Take a seat. I’m sure they’ll explain how their ‘strategizing’ is critical to the survival of the Night Court.”

Feyre shook her head, but there was amusement in her eyes as she looked at Rhysand. “You know, Rhys, I’m starting to think we deserve a break.”

“A break?” Rhysand echoed, tilting his head. “From what, darling? Surely you’re not suggesting life with our children is anything less than a joy.”

You snorted. “Oh, it’s a joy, alright. Especially when Nyx decides to start a game of tag on the roof, or Cassian’s boys decide to see if they can break through a wall with their wings.”

“They’re learning structural integrity,” Cassian said defensively, though his grin betrayed him.

“And how exactly is that helping us?” Nesta asked, her tone sharp as she fixed him with a glare. “Do you know how many walls we’ve had to repair this month?”

Azriel stayed quiet, his hand lightly rubbing Kaia’s back as she snuggled against him, but his lips twitched in amusement.

Feyre stepped closer to Rhysand, placing her hands on the back of his chair. “You know, I think we deserve a week off. No kids. Just us. Let’s see how well you three manage without us.”

Rhysand arched a brow, his voice smooth as silk. “A week off? Are you implying we can’t handle our own children?”

“I don’t know,” you said, shifting Kaia again as she started to doze off. “Can you handle Kaia’s nightly escape attempts? Or Nyx’s tendency to challenge gravity at every opportunity?”

Nesta smirked. “What about when the twins decide they’re inventing a new game that requires smashing furniture?”

Cassian leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “Please. We’ve handled far worse.”

“Oh, really?” Feyre asked, her tone dripping with challenge. “Then let’s make it official. One week. No help. No Feyre, no YN, no Nesta. Just the three of you and all the kids.”

Rhysand leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he gave her a slow, considering smile. “And what would the three of you be doing during this week of freedom?”

“Anything we want,” you replied immediately, grinning. “No schedules. No messes to clean. No nightly tantrums.”

Nesta’s voice was firm. “And no repairing walls.”

Azriel glanced down at Kaia, his gaze softening. “You’d really leave us alone for a week?”

“Yes,” you said, though your heart warmed at the way he was glancing at your daughter. “And you’d survive. Maybe.”

Cassian grinned, leaning toward Azriel and Rhysand. “Come on, boys. How hard could it be?”

Rhysand’s gaze flicked toward Feyre, full of mischief. “Challenge accepted.”

Feyre smirked. “You’ll regret that by the end of the first day.”

You laughed, Kaia stirring slightly as you kissed the top of her head. “We’ll pack our bags tonight. Good luck, gentlemen. You’re going to need it.”

You grinned, shifting Kaia onto your hip as you leaned against the doorframe. “You know, Feyre, Nesta, and I could always go to the Day Court for the week. Helion would love to take us in. No kids, plenty of sunshine, and a lot less chaos.”

Cassian sat up straight, feigning offense. “The Day Court? You’d betray us like that?”

“Oh, it’s not betrayal,” Nesta said with a smirk, tapping her fingers on the armrest of her chair. “It’s survival. And besides, Helion has excellent taste. He knows how to treat his guests.”

Rhysand arched a brow at Feyre, his expression amused. “You’d run off to Helion? Really, darling? Aren’t I enough?”

Feyre tilted her head, pretending to consider. “Well, Helion does throw very good parties. And he doesn’t make me chase a child off the roof.”

Before Rhysand could respond, a loud, familiar voice interrupted.

“NO!”

Nyx came barreling into the room, his curls bouncing as he skidded to a stop in front of you. His eyes were wide with panic, and his wings flared slightly behind him as he planted himself firmly in your path.

“You can’t leave them in charge!” Nyx declared, pointing dramatically at his father, Cassian, and Azriel. “Not again! They’ll ruin everything!”

Rhysand leaned back in his chair, his expression equal parts amused and offended. “Excuse me, young man. What exactly are you accusing us of?”

Nyx turned on him, his hands on his hips. “The last time you were in charge, Uncle Cassian said I could ‘fly like an Illyrian,’ and then—” He flapped his arms wildly for emphasis. “And then I broke my arm!”

Cassian burst out laughing, clapping a hand on his chest. “That was a learning experience, Nyx. Every Illyrian has to learn how to fall at some point.”

“I didn’t fall!” Nyx shouted, glaring at him. “You threw me!”

“I did not throw you!” Cassian protested, though his grin was far too wide to be convincing.

Nyx crossed his arms, clearly unimpressed. “You threw me, and then you told Mama it was an accident. I’m still not allowed to go anywhere with you by myself!”

Feyre pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering under her breath about reckless behavior and bad influences. “He’s not wrong, Cassian. You did throw him.”

“I helped him fly,” Cassian corrected, raising his hands defensively.

Nyx turned to you, his expression pleading. “You can’t leave us with them! Uncle Azriel doesn’t even let me hold his knives, and Dad just makes me sit and listen to boring stories about being High Lord.”

Azriel chuckled quietly from his seat, his hand still resting protectively on Kaia’s back as she began to doze. “I’m not letting you hold my knives, Nyx. You’re thirteen, not thirty.”

Nyx huffed, his wings twitching in frustration. “I can fight! I’m strong!”

“You’re also grounded,” Feyre said firmly, cutting off whatever argument he was about to make. “And if you’re trying to talk us out of going to the Day Court, it’s not working.”

Nyx’s eyes widened as he looked between you, Feyre, and Nesta. “You’re really going to leave me with them? Mama, you can’t!”

Rhysand smirked, leaning forward to ruffle Nyx’s hair. “Don’t worry, son. We’ll take excellent care of you.”

“That’s what you said last time,” Nyx muttered darkly, stepping away and turning toward the door. “I’m telling Aunt Amren. She’ll stop you.”

Nesta snorted, shaking her head. “Amren’s the one who suggested this in the first place. She said we’ve ‘earned’ it.”

You grinned, watching as Nyx stormed off, muttering under his breath about unfair treatment and irresponsible adults. Turning back to the three men, you tilted your head. “Well, there you have it. Even your own son doesn’t trust you to handle this.”

Rhysand sighed dramatically, lifting his drink. “Clearly, I’ve raised a traitor.”

Cassian laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “It’ll be fine, Rhys. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Azriel didn’t say a word, but the slight twitch of his wings and the quiet laugh that escaped him said everything.

You smiled sweetly, adjusting Kaia on your hip. “Let me know how that attitude works out for you when we’re gone. We’ll be sure to send Helion your love.”

Feyre and Nesta smirked in unison as you all turned to leave, already planning the week of freedom ahead.

-----

The house was quiet, the kind of stillness that only came after all the children had finally settled into sleep. Kaia had been tucked into her bed hours ago, her tiny wings carefully draped over her blanket as she drifted off without a care in the world. The boys had stayed up later than usual, their laughter echoing through the halls until Azriel finally sent them off to their rooms with firm but gentle reminders about the chaos they’d already caused today.

Now, it was just you.

You stood in the bedroom, a soft glow from the bedside lamp illuminating the suitcase open on the bed. You were methodically folding clothes—light dresses, comfortable shoes, and a few things Feyre and Nesta had sworn were “perfect for the Day Court.” A small smile tugged at your lips as you thought about the week ahead. The idea of a break, of sunshine and relaxation with no children demanding your attention, felt like a dream.

The door creaked open behind you, and you didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

“Still packing?” Azriel’s voice was soft, laced with that calm, steady warmth you adored.

You glanced over your shoulder, catching sight of him leaning against the doorframe. His hair was slightly tousled, his shoulders relaxed now that the day’s chaos had come to an end. His gaze swept over the room, lingering on the suitcase before meeting your eyes.

“You know,” he said, pushing off the doorframe and walking toward you, “I could still talk you out of this.”

You smirked, turning back to the suitcase as you folded another dress. “Oh, you could, could you?”

He came to stand beside you, his wings rustling slightly as he leaned against the bedpost. “Absolutely,” he said, his tone low and teasing. “Just say the word, and I’ll convince Feyre and Nesta that this trip isn’t necessary.”

You raised a brow, glancing up at him with a playful smile. “And how exactly would you do that? Bribery? Threats? Or are you planning to charm us into staying?”

Azriel’s lips twitched, his hazel eyes shining with amusement. “I was thinking charm, actually. It usually works on you.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you placed another item in the suitcase. “Not this time, Shadowsinger. I’m going, and there’s nothing you can say to change my mind.”

He watched you for a moment, his expression softening. “You deserve it,” he said quietly. “All of you do. But… Kaia’s going to miss you.”

You paused, your hands stilling on the edge of the suitcase. “Kaia’s going to miss me?” You looked at him, raising a skeptical brow. “She spent the entire day glued to your side, Az. If anything, she’s going to forget I exist.”

Azriel chuckled, his wings shifting as he straightened. “She loves her mama. Even if she’s too stubborn to admit it sometimes.”

You smiled, your heart warming at the thought of your daughter. “She gets that from you, you know.”

He stepped closer, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. His fingers lingered, his touch gentle as he studied you. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” you said, your voice softer now. “She’s lucky to have you.”

Azriel’s gaze held yours, his hand dropping to rest on your waist. “We’re both lucky to have you.”

For a moment, the two of you stood there in silence, the weight of the day melting away. His hand was warm against your side, grounding you in a way only he could.

“You’re really okay with this?” you asked quietly, your fingers brushing against the fabric of his shirt. “Me leaving for a whole week?”

He smiled, a rare, genuine thing that made your heart flutter. “I’ll miss you,” he admitted, his thumb tracing small circles against your hip. “But I’ll survive. And so will Kaia. Somehow.”

You laughed softly, leaning into him as his wings folded slightly around you. “I don’t know who I should be more worried about—her or you.”

“Definitely me,” he teased, pressing a kiss to your temple. “But I’ll try to manage without you.”

You tilted your head up, meeting his gaze. “You’ll do more than manage. You’ll be amazing. You always are.”

Azriel leaned down, his lips brushing softly against yours in a kiss that was both comforting and full of promise. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice a low murmur.

“Don’t worry about us. Just enjoy yourself, YN.”

“I will,” you promised, your heart swelling with love for the man before you.

As the silence stretched between you, Azriel’s gaze flickered to your lips, a familiar glint of mischief lighting his hazel eyes. His hand on your waist tightened slightly, pulling you just a fraction closer.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice dropping to that low, velvety tone that always sent a shiver down your spine, “we still have some time before you leave.”

Your lips curved into a teasing smile as you tilted your head. “And what exactly are you suggesting, Shadowsinger?”

Azriel’s wings flared slightly, brushing against the edges of the room as he leaned in. His lips ghosted over yours, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath, but he didn’t close the distance. Not yet.

“I’m suggesting,” he said, his voice a soft rumble, “that maybe you should stay here and let me remind you of all the reasons you shouldn’t go.”

Your breath hitched as his free hand came up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheekbone. He dipped his head, his lips barely grazing your jaw as he whispered, “Starting with how much I’ve missed having you to myself.”

“Az,” you said softly, trying to keep your tone steady even as heat pooled in your chest. “You’re not playing fair.”

He chuckled, the sound deep and warm as his lips trailed along the curve of your neck. “I never said I would.”

Your hands found their way to his chest, the fabric of his shirt bunching under your fingers as you tried to catch your breath. “You’re not going to win, you know. I’m still going.”

His lips paused against your skin, and you felt the smirk that formed there. “Oh, I don’t need to win. I just need to make sure you remember me while you’re gone.”

Your laugh was breathless, and you tipped your head back, giving him better access as his kisses turned more insistent. “As if I could forget you.”

Azriel hummed, his wings curling slightly around you as his hands slid to your hips, holding you firmly in place. “Good,” he murmured, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, full of the kind of intensity that made your knees weak.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “One more thing,” he said, his voice rough with affection.

“What’s that?” you asked, your voice just as soft.

His lips curved into a smirk as his thumb brushed against your lower lip. “Make sure Helion knows you’re mine.”

You laughed, the sound light and full of warmth as you leaned into him. “I think he already knows, Az.”

“Good,” he said again, his tone playful yet possessive as he kissed you once more, this time with no intention of letting you go anytime soon.

Azriel didn’t let you pull away—not that you wanted to. His lips moved against yours with that perfect blend of softness and urgency, his hands anchoring you firmly in place as though daring you to remember anything but him.

The suitcase on the bed was all but forgotten as he coaxed a sigh from you, his mouth tilting into a knowing smirk at your reaction.

“Az,” you murmured against his lips, your voice half-scolding, half-breathless.

“Hm?” he hummed, his tone utterly unrepentant as he kissed the corner of your mouth, then trailed down your jaw.

“You’re distracting me,” you managed, though your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt betrayed just how little you minded.

“Good,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and rough in a way that made your pulse flutter. “You’ve been so focused on everyone else, shadow,”—his favorite term of endearment for you, spoken so softly it made your heart ache—“it’s time someone focused on you.”

Your heart squeezed at the tenderness in his words, even as his teasing lips found the sensitive spot just below your ear.

“You know,” you said, your breath hitching when his teeth grazed your skin, “if you keep this up, Feyre and Nesta are going to show up in the morning, and I’m not going to be ready.”

Azriel chuckled, the sound low and sinful as he lifted his head to meet your gaze. “You don’t need to pack for the Day Court. You could stay here. I’ll make it worth your while.”

You arched a brow, pretending to consider it even as you traced slow circles on his chest. “And what exactly would you do to make it worth my while?”

His hazel eyes darkened, and the corners of his mouth twitched as though he were holding back a full grin. “I’d start,” he said, his voice a silken promise, “by reminding you how much I love you. And then…” His wings flared slightly, his fingers tightening on your hips as he leaned in again.

“And then?” you pressed, your voice soft, unable to stop yourself from smiling at the way his gaze lingered on your lips.

“And then,” he murmured, his forehead brushing against yours, “I’d spend the whole week making sure you never want to leave my side again.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, though it was breathless and tinged with heat. “Azriel,” you said, shaking your head even as your hands slid up to wrap around his neck, “you are completely incorrigible.”

“I’m your incorrigible husband,” he said, his lips curving as he kissed you again, slow and deep, until all thoughts of the Day Court faded into nothingness.

When you finally pulled away, your breathing uneven and your cheeks flushed, Azriel’s hands stayed firm on your waist, holding you close. His hazel eyes sparkled with satisfaction, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, shaking your head as you tried to regain your composure.

“And you love me for it,” he teased, leaning down to brush another soft kiss to your temple.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips. “Unfortunately for me.”

Azriel chuckled, his wings shifting as he stepped back just enough to give you space. “I’ll leave you to finish packing—if you insist on going, that is.”

“If I insist?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

His smirk deepened, and he lifted his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. Go to the Day Court. But don’t be surprised if I show up halfway through the week to bring you home.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you turned back to the suitcase on the bed. “Kaia would never forgive you if you left her for that long.”

“She might forgive me if I brought her to you,” he countered, his voice softening at the thought of your daughter.

“She’d love it,” you admitted, glancing over your shoulder at him. “But I think you can handle a week without me. Besides, Helion’s already promised Feyre, Nesta, and me the royal treatment.”

Azriel’s wings twitched, a subtle flicker of something possessive crossing his face before he hid it behind a playful smile. “You’ll be back before you know it.”

“Miss me already?” you teased, folding the last of your clothes and placing them in the suitcase.

“Always,” he said simply, and the sincerity in his voice made your heart stutter.

You paused, turning fully to face him. For a moment, you just looked at him—the man who had been your partner in everything, who had stood by your side through chaos and calm, who adored you and your daughter more than anything in the world.

Stepping closer, you reached up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing over the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw. “I love you,” you said softly, the words carrying all the weight of your feelings.

Azriel leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly. “And I love you.”

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, the quiet of the night wrapping around you like a cocoon. Then, with a final lingering kiss, Azriel stepped back, his hands falling to his sides.

“I’ll check on Kaia before I head to bed,” he said, his voice low.

You nodded, your heart swelling as you watched him leave the room, his shadows trailing after him.

And as you turned back to the suitcase, you couldn’t help but smile, already counting down the days until you’d be back in his arms again.

-----

The morning light filtered gently through the curtains, bathing the room in soft, golden hues. You stirred slowly, the warmth of Azriel’s arms wrapped securely around you, his chest rising and falling with the steady rhythm of his breathing. For a moment, you just lay there, savoring the feeling of being tucked against him, his wings sprawled protectively around your form.

His face was relaxed in sleep, the lines of tension from the previous days gone, and you couldn’t help but smile softly at the way he looked—vulnerable and at peace. You pressed your face against his chest, breathing in the scent of him, a mix of sandalwood and something distinctly Azriel—earthy, comforting, and home.

But as much as you wanted to stay there forever, the thought of the day ahead pulled you from the warmth of his embrace. You sighed quietly, trying not to disturb him as you shifted slightly, careful not to wake him. The soft rustle of the blankets seemed to stir Azriel’s senses, and you felt him shift behind you, pulling you closer as though trying to keep you there.

“Five more minutes,” he murmured against the back of your neck, his voice thick with sleep.

You chuckled softly, turning your head to plant a kiss on his jaw. “You know I have to go, right?”

Azriel groaned, his arms tightening around you. “I know,” he mumbled, but there was a hint of reluctance in his tone. “But I can’t let you leave yet.”

You laughed, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I’ll be back soon. Besides, Feyre and Nesta will never let us hear the end of it if we’re late.”

“Mm, they’re already too excited to get away,” he muttered, nuzzling against your neck with a final sigh of contentment. But after a moment, he released you, the warmth of his body leaving a cold spot on the bed.

Reluctantly, you slid out of bed, the cool air of the room instantly making you miss the heat of his touch. You moved to the closet, pulling out your outfit for the day, but as you dressed, you could feel Azriel’s eyes on you, his presence heavy and comforting.

Once you were dressed, you turned back to the bed. Azriel had propped himself up on his elbow, his gaze fixed on you with that dark, intense look he always wore when he was lost in thought.

“You’re really going to leave me?” he asked, his voice soft but with an undercurrent of affection.

You smiled, walking over to him and pressing a kiss to his lips. “I have to. I’ll miss you, too, though.”

He nodded, and for a moment, you stood there together, soaking in the last few moments before the day began in full force.

After a final kiss, you left the bedroom, stepping out into the hall. The house was already stirring, and as you walked toward the stairs, you heard the sound of voices below. When you reached the kitchen, you found the familiar sight of Cassian, Rhysand, and your little Kaia sitting at the table.

Kaia’s tiny feet dangled from the chair as she babbled happily, her wide, bright eyes sparkling up at Rhysand, who was teasing her with a piece of fruit. Cassian sat beside her, his boisterous laugh filling the room as he ruffled her hair. His sons were still nowhere to be seen, probably still asleep, which seemed to be a rare luxury in the chaos of their usual routine.

“Well, well,” you said, leaning against the doorframe with a smile. “Look who’s in charge of the kids this morning.”

Cassian looked up, grinning ear to ear. “Someone has to keep an eye on them while you take your luxurious break.”

Rhysand glanced up from where he was sitting next to Kaia, a teasing glint in his eye. “You’re welcome. Though, I don’t know why you’re so eager to leave us. Kaia seems pretty happy here.”

Kaia giggled, reaching up to grab at Rhysand’s hair, tugging on it with all the strength her tiny hands could muster. “Rhysie!” she said, her voice lisping around the word as she giggled.

You shook your head with a small laugh. “She really is a handful, isn’t she?”

“She’s a delight,” Rhysand said, his tone dry as he pulled his hair out of her grasp. “I’m just glad I’m not the one who has to deal with her tantrums.”

Cassian threw his head back with a laugh. “I can’t wait to hear what happens when it’s Azriel's turn to watch her this week.”

Before you could respond, you heard the sound of footsteps approaching from behind, and you turned to find Feyre and Nesta walking into the kitchen, both already fully prepared for the trip.

“We’re ready to go,” Feyre announced with a grin, her bags slung over her shoulder.

“You two really can’t wait, can you?” you teased.

Nesta crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. “We deserve this, YN. Don’t try to ruin our excitement.”

Feyre grinned. “I’ll second that. I think it’s about time we leave the chaos behind for a bit.”

You laughed, crossing the room to grab a cup of tea before setting your gaze on Rhysand and Cassian, who were now clearly in full babysitting mode.

“If any of them come back with bruises or broken limbs, I’m blaming you three,” you said, teasing.

Cassian held up his hands in mock defence. “We’ll be just fine. I promise, Kaia’s in good hands.”

“Besides,” Rhysand added, “you’ll be back before you know it.”

As the four of you gathered your things, laughter and light-hearted banter filled the air. But in the back of your mind, you knew Azriel would be there to handle everything while you were away. You just hoped the boys wouldn’t get too out of hand.

-----

The moment the last of the girls left, a tense silence descended over the room, hanging thick in the air. Cassian, Rhysand, and Azriel stood there for a moment, exchanging glances as they mentally prepared themselves for what was about to unfold. They’d been through this before, but that didn’t make it any less challenging.

Azriel shifted on his feet, his wings barely brushing against the table. “Are we sure we can handle all of them?” he asked, though it wasn’t a question of doubt—more like a quiet observation.

Cassian grinned, clearly relishing the chaos. “Of course, we can. How hard can it be? It’s just kids, after all,” he said, his voice laced with sarcasm. He shot a glance at Rhysand. “And don’t you dare try to say it’s ‘too much,’ Rhys. You’ve survived worse.”

Rhysand sighed but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “True. But we’ve never had this many all at once.”

The sound of little feet padding into the room interrupted the conversation, and soon the three boys—Torran, Emrus, and Calen—came stumbling in, their messy hair and sleep-rumpled faces betraying that they had just woken up. Their eyes were still half-lidded as they slowly blinked at the scene before them: three fully-grown men standing in a kitchen, attempting to look responsible.

“Dad?” Torran rubbed his eyes sleepily, looking at Cassian. “What’s for breakfast?”

Emrus yawned loudly, his hand rubbing his face. “I’m hungry,” he mumbled, barely opening his eyes as he looked at Rhysand, trying to look as cute as possible to get out of a scolding.

Calen, who was the youngest of the three, immediately latched onto his father’s leg, hiding behind it and peering up at the three men. “Daddy,” he said quietly, a bit unsure of the situation. “Where’s Mom?”

Cassian ruffled his hair affectionately. “She’s off on a much-needed vacation, remember? It’s just us today. And don’t worry, we’ll take care of you.”

Azriel gave a small, half-amused smile, glancing toward Rhysand and Cassian. “This is going to be fun,” he muttered under his breath.

The sound of more footsteps followed soon after, as Nyx walked in, still looking half-asleep but clearly already aware of the shift in the atmosphere. His eyes immediately flickered from Azriel to the boys, and then he gave a soft sigh, knowing exactly what his father was about to ask him to do.

“Dad, I’m not babysitting them,” Nyx grumbled, clearly tired of the routine.

Azriel raised an eyebrow, glancing over at Rhysand. “You’re not. You’re the oldest; it’s your job to make sure they don’t set the house on fire.”

Rhysand snorted, shooting Azriel a knowing look. “He’s right, Nyx. Just keep an eye on them for now. You’re the only one who can make sure Cassian doesn’t let them eat their weight in pastries before noon.”

Cassian threw his hands up in mock offense. “I don’t always spoil them,” he said dramatically. “But I do know what the kids like.”

Nyx rolled his eyes but nodded, knowing he was essentially outnumbered. He moved to sit at the table and begin slouching in the chair, obviously dreading the next few hours.

Just then, Kaia—Azriel’s little two-year-old—wobbled around room, her hair a wild mess of dark curls, her wide, curious eyes scanning the scene before her. She let out a cheerful giggle when she saw her dad and immediately ran toward him.

“Dada!” Kaia called, her baby voice high-pitched and full of excitement as she tried to climb onto his lap.

Azriel’s face softened as he scooped her up, settling her on his knee. “Hey, little one,” he said, his voice tender as he brushed a stray curl from her face. “What are you up to?”

“I want pannycake!” she declared loudly, bouncing on his lap as if that would make her demand more convincing.

“Of course you do,” Azriel said, half-amused and half-resigned. “We’ll see what we can do.”

Rhysand, with a resigned sigh, stepped over to the counter and grabbed the breakfast supplies. “Looks like it’s up to us to feed the masses today,” he muttered. “Anyone want to help?”

Cassian clapped his hands together, standing up with a grin. “You bet. Let’s make this an event.”

Torran, Emrus, and Calen started to gather around the counter, already too excited by the idea of food to care about their previous grumpy moods. Kaia, now securely in Azriel’s arms, pointed enthusiastically at the pancakes and asked, “Can I have bwuebewwies?”

“You can have whatever you want,” Azriel replied with a smile, brushing a kiss to the top of her head. He could already see that he was going to be wrapped around her little finger for the foreseeable future.

As the group settled into their roles, Rhysand began heating up the pan, Cassian retrieved various ingredients with unnecessary enthusiasm, and Nyx slouched in his seat, trying to act like he wasn’t already mentally preparing himself for the chaos ahead.

“Should we make this a competition?” Cassian asked, his tone light as he bounced between tasks. “See who can get the kids fed and settled fastest?”

Azriel rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at his lips. “You’re insane. But I’m in.”

Nyx groaned. “I’m too old for this.”

Cassian barely had time to react before Torran, Emrus, and Calen launched themselves at him, a unified flurry of arms, legs, and battle cries.

“Attack!” Torran shouted, his voice ringing with the authority of the eldest as he tackled Cassian around the middle.

Emrus scrambled to climb onto his father’s back, giggling uncontrollably. “We’ve got you now, Dad!”

Calen, not wanting to be left out, latched onto Cassian’s leg, his little hands gripping tightly as he added his own gleeful shout to the chaos.

Cassian staggered under the weight of all three boys, laughing as he tried to fend them off. “You think you can take me down?” he bellowed dramatically, his voice booming through the kitchen. “I’m a General! You’ll never defeat me!”

“You’re outnumbered, Dad!” Torran crowed, attempting to wrestle Cassian to the ground.

Azriel leaned casually against the counter, Kaia still perched on his hip, her little hands gripping his tunic as she watched the spectacle unfold with wide eyes. “Should we help him, sweetheart?” Azriel asked, his tone amused.

Kaia tilted her head, considering it for a moment before shaking her head firmly. “Nope. Cassy too loud,” she declared, her baby voice cutting through the noise.

Rhysand snorted from his spot near the stove, where he was flipping pancakes. “Looks like you’re on your own, Cassian.”

Cassian shot Rhysand an exaggerated glare. “Some High Lord you are, Rhys. Aren’t you supposed to lead by example?”

“I am,” Rhysand said smoothly, gesturing to the pancakes with a flourish. “I’m feeding your troops. It’s called strategy.”

As Cassian’s boys continued their assault, Nyx, who had been watching with a mixture of amusement and exasperation, got up from his chair and walked over to Kaia. He crouched down so he was at her eye level, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“Hey, Kaia,” he said gently, reaching out to brush a stray curl from her face. “You wanna get out of here before things get even crazier?”

Kaia blinked at him, her tiny hand clutching Azriel’s sleeve as she considered his offer. “We go?” she asked, her voice curious.

“Somewhere quiet,” Nyx replied, standing up and holding out his hand to her. “Trust me, this week is going to be a mess. We’ve got to stick together, okay?”

Kaia looked up at Azriel, her big dark eyes questioning. Azriel chuckled softly, setting her down on the floor. “Go on, sweetheart,” he said. “Nyx will take care of you.”

Kaia slipped her tiny hand into Nyx’s, her trust in him absolute. Nyx gave her a reassuring smile before glancing back at the adults. “Good luck,” he said dryly, his tone making it clear he didn’t envy them one bit.

With that, Nyx led Kaia out of the kitchen, leaving the three grown men to handle the chaos that was quickly escalating behind them. Rhysand sighed, flipping another pancake onto the growing stack. “You know,” he said, addressing no one in particular, “this might actually kill us.”

Azriel smirked, his calm exterior never faltering. “Speak for yourself.”

Cassian, now pinned to the floor by his three sons, looked up with a mock glare. “You two are terrible friends.”

“Friends who are making breakfast,” Rhysand corrected, raising his spatula in a mock toast.

Cassian groaned, though his grin never wavered, and the sound of laughter filled the kitchen once more.

Cassian finally managed to wrestle himself free from his sons, standing up and dusting off his tunic with a grin. “You know,” he said, leaning casually against the counter, “maybe we should take this whole circus to the cabin.”

Rhysand raised an eyebrow, flipping the last pancake onto the growing stack. “The cabin? With all the kids?”

“Why not?” Cassian shrugged, his grin widening. “The boys have their Illyrian training this week anyway. They’ll burn off all their energy in the mountains, and we’ll have some breathing room to relax.”

Azriel, who had been silently wiping syrup off his hands after Kaia’s sticky breakfast adventure, froze. His sharp gaze snapped to Cassian, his wings shifting slightly as tension settled over him.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Azriel said quietly, his voice calm but firm.

Cassian frowned. “Why not? It’ll be good for the kids, and you know the mountains are perfect for—”

“For the boys, maybe,” Azriel interrupted, his tone measured but with an edge of protectiveness. “But Kaia’s too little. She can barely lift off the ground, and the air pressure in the mountains is different. It’s hard even for fully grown Illyrians.”

Rhysand leaned back in his chair, his violet eyes thoughtful. “It’s not just the air pressure, is it?”

Azriel glanced at him, his expression unreadable, but they all knew him too well.

“The Illyrians…” Azriel finally admitted, his voice quieter now. “They don’t take kindly to females with wings. Kaia’s just a baby. I won’t let her be exposed to that kind of... prejudice.”

Cassian straightened, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced with seriousness. “Az, no one’s going to say a damn thing to Kaia. And if they do, they’ll answer to me. Or Rhys. Or, hell, even the boys. You know we won’t let anything happen to her.”

Rhysand nodded in agreement. “And as for the air pressure, we’ll adjust. We won’t push her to fly or do anything strenuous. She’s your daughter, Azriel. She has all of us to protect her.”

Azriel’s wings shifted again, the tension in his shoulders still visible. “It’s not just about protection,” he murmured, looking down at his hands. “I don’t want her to feel... less. Or different.”

Cassian clapped a hand on Azriel’s shoulder, his grip firm. “She’s not less, and she’s not different. She’s Kaia, and she’s incredible. Those winged bastards at the camps don’t get a say in that. You’re her father. She’s got you—and us. That’s all she needs.”

Rhysand smiled softly, leaning forward. “She’s going to grow up knowing she’s loved and cherished. And when the time comes, if she has to face the world, she’ll do it with her head held high because she’ll know she has us behind her. Always.”

Azriel exhaled slowly, the tension in his body easing slightly at their reassurances. He glanced toward the doorway where Kaia had toddled off with Nyx. “She means everything to me,” he said softly.

“We know,” Rhysand said. “And that’s why we’ll all make sure she’s safe. You’re not doing this alone, Az.”

Before Azriel could respond, the sound of loud footsteps filled the air, followed by a cacophony of laughter. Torran, Emrus, and Calen came barreling through the room, yelling as they bolted toward the doorway.

“Nyx! Wait for us!” Torran called, his voice filled with excitement.

“We want to play too!” Emrus added, his little feet pounding against the floor.

Calen, the smallest, brought up the rear, his face lit up with pure joy. “Kaia! Come back!” he yelled, his high-pitched voice echoing as they all disappeared around the corner.

Cassian shook his head, a mixture of amusement and exasperation on his face. “There they go,” he muttered.

Rhysand smirked, pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee. “They’re your sons, Cassian. You only have your lack of self-control to blame.”

Azriel chuckled softly, his eyes lingering on the doorway where his daughter had disappeared. Despite his concerns, a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “They’re going to wear Nyx out,” he said, the hint of amusement clear in his tone.

Cassian grinned. “Good. That’ll make things easier for all of us.”

Rhysand leaned back in his chair, his gaze settling on Azriel. “So, what do you say, brother? The cabin for a few days? We’ll make it work—for everyone.”

Azriel hesitated for only a moment longer before nodding slowly. “Fine. But if anything happens to Kaia—”

“Nothing will,” Cassian interrupted, clapping him on the back. “You have my word.”

Azriel’s lips quirked upward in a small smile. “You better keep it.”

Cassian’s grin stretched ear to ear, his hazel eyes lighting up like a child who had just been handed his favorite toy. He slapped his hands together, the sound echoing through the kitchen.

“Yes!” he exclaimed, his voice booming with excitement. “The cabin! This is going to be amazing!”

Azriel raised an eyebrow at him, his expression unimpressed. “Amazing? You do realize this isn’t a vacation, right? We’re bringing five kids under thirteen with us, including my toddler.”

Cassian waved a dismissive hand, already pacing the kitchen like he was planning a military campaign. “Details, Az. Minor details. This is going to be an adventure! Fresh air, wide-open skies, and the boys can run wild while we sit back, relax, and maybe get some peace and quiet—”

“Cass,” Rhysand interrupted dryly, leaning back in his chair. “You’re describing a fantasy. Peace and quiet? With your sons in the mix? I’d say the odds are slim to none.”

Cassian pointed at him, undeterred. “First of all, my boys are angels—”

“Absolute terrors,” Azriel interjected, his tone flat.

Cassian ignored him. “—and second, they’ll be too busy with training to cause chaos. I’ll get them out there running drills first thing every morning. They’ll be so exhausted they won’t have the energy to do anything but sleep.”

“Drills?” Rhysand repeated with a smirk. “You’re taking them to the cabin, not a war camp.”

“It’s a lifestyle, Rhys,” Cassian said, puffing out his chest like he was imparting sage wisdom. “Besides, you’ll thank me when they’re passed out by sundown and we’re sitting by the fire with a drink in hand.”

Azriel crossed his arms, leaning back against the counter. “And what about Kaia? She’s not exactly going to be running drills, Cassian.”

Cassian���s grin softened, a rare moment of genuine warmth flashing across his face. “Kaia’s going to love it. I’ll make sure she’s safe, Az. I promise. We’ll take her flying close to the cabin where the air’s gentler, show her the river, and teach her how to throw rocks into the water. Trust me, she’s going to have the time of her life.”

Azriel’s expression softened at the mention of Kaia, though he still looked sceptical. “She’s two, Cassian. Her idea of ‘time of her life’ is eating blueberries and hiding under blankets.”

“Exactly!” Cassian said, throwing his arms wide. “And the cabin is perfect for that! We’ll build her a blanket fort by the fire. She’ll never want to leave!”

Rhysand chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re really leaning into this, aren’t you?”

Cassian crossed his arms, his grin turning cocky. “Of course I am. I’m going to make this the best trip ever. Just wait—you’ll be thanking me by the end of it.”

Azriel sighed, though a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “You’re mad, you know that?”

Cassian clapped him on the back, his grin unwavering. “And yet, you love me for it.”

Rhysand shook his head, lifting his coffee mug in a mock toast. “Here’s to surviving whatever Cassian’s version of ‘the best trip ever’ turns out to be.”

Cassian laughed, already mentally packing for the adventure. “Oh, you’ll survive,” he said confidently. “You might even enjoy yourselves. Trust me, boys—this is going to be legendary.”

Azriel sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he straightened up. Cassian’s enthusiasm for the cabin trip was infectious, but the thought of Kaia being away from home in unfamiliar terrain still had him a little on edge.

“I’ll go find Kaia,” Azriel said, pushing off the counter. His shadows stirred, curling lazily around his shoulders as if they were ready to help in the search. “Nyx probably dragged her off somewhere to keep her entertained.”

Cassian smirked. “That kid’s already got more sense than you give him credit for. Kaia’s in good hands.”

Azriel shot him a look that said, That doesn’t mean I’m not checking. Without another word, he strode out of the kitchen, his sharp hearing picking up faint giggles echoing down the hall.

As he walked through the house, he let his shadows fan out, whispering to him about movement and noise. They swirled back, leading him toward the sitting room. When he stepped inside, the sight before him made him pause.

Kaia was sitting on the floor, her little wings fluttering as she balanced a small pile of stuffed animals on top of Nyx’s head. Nyx, sitting cross-legged and perfectly still, looked utterly resigned, though there was a small, amused smile on his face.

“Kaia,” Azriel said, his voice soft but firm as he crossed the room.

Kaia’s head whipped around, her big dark eyes lighting up when she saw him. “Dada!” she squealed, scrambling to her feet. She stumbled slightly before running toward him, her tiny wings flapping in excitement.

Azriel caught her easily, scooping her up into his arms. “What are you doing, sweetheart?” he asked, his tone tinged with amusement as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Kaia leaned back, her little face glowing with mischief. “Pwaying wif Nyxie’s hair,” she declared proudly, pointing at Nyx.

Nyx raised an eyebrow, reaching up to pluck a stuffed animal from his head. “I don’t think this is what my dad had in mind when he said to keep her busy.”

Azriel chuckled, pressing a kiss to Kaia’s temple. “Thank you for watching her, Nyx.”

“Anytime,” Nyx said, standing up and brushing off his pants. He handed Kaia one of the stuffed animals she had dropped. “But fair warning—she’s a little too good at bossing people around.”

Azriel smiled softly, adjusting Kaia on his hip as she giggled and buried her face in his neck. “She gets that from her mother,” he said with a hint of warmth in his voice.

Kaia peeked up at him, her curls bouncing as she grinned. “Dada, we go?”

“Yes, love,” Azriel said, turning toward the doorway. “We’re going to the cabin, but first, we need to pack your things. Come on, let’s get you ready.”

Nyx followed them out, shaking his head. “This is going to be a long week,” he muttered, though there was a glimmer of affection in his voice.

Azriel glanced back at him with a rare, small smile. “It always is.”

As Azriel walked toward the staircase with Kaia securely in his arms, he glanced back at Nyx, who was trailing behind with a casual slouch.

“Nyx,” Azriel said, his tone calm but carrying the unmistakable authority of someone used to giving orders.

The 13-year-old straightened slightly, his sharp eyes meeting Azriel’s. “Yeah?”

“Go pack your things,” Azriel instructed. “Clothes, whatever books or games you want to bring. Make sure you’ve got enough for the week.”

Nyx sighed, dragging a hand through his dark hair. “Do I have to? I just got her to sit still. That was hard work, you know.”

Azriel gave him a pointed look, one that made Nyx quickly rethink any further protests. “Yes, you have to. Unless you’d like to be stuck in the same outfit for the next seven days.”

Nyx groaned but didn’t argue further. “Fine. But if I have to pack, I’m bringing all my stuff. Don’t complain when I take up half the space in the cabin.”

Azriel’s lips quirked upward in a faint smile. “Just pack what you need, Nyx. No more, no less.”

Nyx huffed, turning on his heel and heading toward his room. “You’re lucky I like Kaia and my aunt,” he muttered under his breath, though there was no real bite in his tone.

Azriel turned his attention back to Kaia, who was fiddling with the collar of his shirt. “Alright, little one,” he murmured, his voice softening as he kissed the top of her head. “Let’s get you packed up.”

Kaia wriggled slightly, her tiny hands gripping his shoulders. “I pack toys?” she asked, her words slightly garbled in her toddler speech.

Azriel nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Of course. Let’s make sure we grab your favourite ones, okay?”

“‘Kay,” she said happily, her wings fluttering as she cuddled closer.

Azriel carried Kaia into her small but cozy room, decorated in soft shades of cream and pale green. Tiny wooden shelves lined the walls, overflowing with stuffed animals, picture books, and small trinkets she’d accumulated in her two short years. Her favourite blanket, a deep blue that matched his siphons, was draped over the side of her crib-turned-toddler bed.

“Alright, sweetheart,” Azriel said, setting her down on the soft rug in the centre of the room. She plopped onto her bottom with a giggle, her tiny wings fluttering as she looked up at him with wide, expectant eyes.

Azriel crouched down and opened the small wooden chest at the foot of her bed, pulling out a soft travel bag embroidered with her name. “We’ll start with your clothes,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.

“Cwothes!” Kaia echoed, clapping her hands.

Azriel stood and moved to her little dresser, pulling open the top drawer where her neatly folded tunics and leggings were stored. He carefully selected a week’s worth of outfits—soft, comfortable pieces that would keep her warm in the cooler mountain air.

“Do you want to help, Kaia?” he asked as he folded a tiny tunic and placed it in the bag.

Kaia jumped to her feet, wobbling slightly before toddling over to him. “I hewp!” she declared proudly, grabbing one of the leggings he’d laid out. Her little hands struggled to fold it, but she managed to mash it into a ball and shoved it into the bag.

Azriel chuckled, his shadows curling around him like an extension of his amusement. “Good job, love,” he said, smoothing out the bunched-up fabric before zipping the main compartment.

Kaia beamed, clearly pleased with herself. “I so good,” she said with a self-satisfied nod.

“The best,” Azriel agreed, lifting her back onto the rug. He moved next to the shelf where her favorite toys were kept. “Alright, what toys do you want to bring?”

Kaia’s eyes lit up, and she immediately ran to the shelf, pointing at a stuffed bat nearly as big as her. “Batty!”

Azriel reached for the stuffed animal, handing it to her. “Batty, of course. Anything else?”

Kaia clutched Batty to her chest, her little face scrunched in concentration as she scanned the shelf. “An’...an’ Bunny!” she declared, pointing to a small gray rabbit.

Azriel grabbed the rabbit and added it to the bag. “Batty and Bunny. Anyone else?”

Kaia hesitated, then nodded. “Puppy!”

Azriel reached for the well-loved plush dog and handed it to her. “Alright, that’s three. I think that’s plenty, don’t you?”

Kaia pouted slightly but nodded, hugging Batty tightly.

Next, Azriel grabbed her favorite blanket from her bed. “We’ll need this,” he said softly, folding it neatly before tucking it into the bag. He also added a couple of her picture books, knowing how much she loved to have bedtime stories read to her.

Finally, he packed a small pouch with some snacks—dried fruit and crackers, her favourites—and slid it into the side pocket of the bag.

“There,” he said, zipping the bag shut. “All ready for the cabin.”

Kaia looked up at him, her big dark eyes shining. “We go now, Dada?”

Azriel smiled, scooping her up into his arms. “Not yet, love. Soon.”

Kaia rested her head against his shoulder, her tiny hand clutching the fabric of his shirt. “’Kay,” she murmured, her voice soft and content.

Azriel pressed a kiss to her curls, his heart swelling with a warmth he could never quite put into words. “Let’s go find the others,” he said, carrying her and the bag out of the room.

-----

You, Nesta, and Feyre stood in the grand room of the Day Court's estate, taking in the sweeping view of the sun-kissed landscape outside. The pale golden walls and sunlit windows were the perfect setting for a relaxing getaway, especially after weeks of chaos back at the Night Court.

As you set down your bag, you sighed with relief. “It feels so good to finally be here,” you said, dropping onto one of the plush couches and looking at the half-empty wine bottle beside you.

Feyre raised an eyebrow, a smirk curling on her lips. “Already drinking at 1 PM? I guess we really are living our best lives without any kids around.”

Nesta snorted as she opened a second bottle. “I’m not complaining. I’ve earned this.”

You laughed and took a sip, leaning back against the cushions. “I swear, every moment I get without Kaia trying to climb up my legs is a treasure.”

Feyre rolled her eyes but was clearly amused. “I thought we were all in agreement. A week off. I can’t believe we actually made it.”

Nesta chuckled. “We should’ve left sooner. It’s been a mess with the kids, but at least we finally get some peace and quiet.”

As if on cue, the door to the living room swung open, and Helion strode in, his hair shining like the sun itself. He wore his usual carefree grin, his amber eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Well, well, well,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest as he took in the three of you lounging on the couch. “The beauties have come without their beasts. Should I be worried about what you’re all getting up to without them?”

You smirked at him, feeling the familiar warmth of his teasing presence. “Helion, you’re just jealous you didn’t come with us. You know you can’t resist our charm.”

Nesta and Feyre both glanced between you and Helion, their curiosity piqued.

Feyre tilted her head. “Wait, you two know each other that well?”

Helion raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by their interest. “Know each other? We go way back. You could say I’m the loss of her life,” he said, a playful gleam in his eyes. “She’s the one that got away.”

You rolled your eyes, not at all surprised by his dramatic flair. “Not true,” you replied with a grin. “We slept twice, centuries ago. That’s all. And one of those times was when you were trying to win a bet on whether or not you could make me laugh.”

Nesta and Feyre exchanged looks, clearly intrigued.

“Twice?” Feyre asked, raising an eyebrow. “And you’re telling me there was nothing more between the two of you?”

Helion leaned against the doorframe with a knowing look, crossing one ankle over the other. “Ah, nothing more. The truth is, we slept, we laughed, and then we moved on. I’m the truth-teller, after all,” he added, smirking as if to say, don’t challenge me on this.

Nesta looked at you in disbelief. “So, you two really didn’t get together after all that?”

You shook your head, laughing softly. “Nope. I’m not sure even Helion can hold a candle to the other men I’ve encountered. Besides, we’re still good friends.”

Helion’s grin widened as he walked over and placed a hand on your shoulder. “The best kind of friend, of course. The kind who knows all your secrets and still manages to make you laugh.”

Feyre laughed softly, clearly entertained by the banter. “Well, I’m glad you two had your fun. But, seriously, is there any chance you two would ever—”

“Stop right there,” you interrupted, holding up a hand to halt her curiosity. “Let’s just say we’ve both moved on. No need for more stories. My husband is way more than perfect for me.”

Helion chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, I won’t embarrass you any further. But I still stand by my ‘loss of my life’ claim.”

You smirked, giving him a playful shove. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Just the way you like me,” he replied with a wink, turning to face Nesta and Feyre. “Anyway, welcome to the Day Court. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. And don’t let them fool you; they can’t resist a little sunshine every now and then.”

With that, Helion made his exit, leaving you, Feyre, and Nesta to settle into the quiet luxury of the Day Court, your laughter still echoing in the room.

Feyre and Nesta exchanged a surprised look as Helion left, their curiosity piqued by the snippets of your past that had come up in conversation. They were both clearly itching to ask more, and Feyre, ever the straightforward one, was the first to break the silence.

“You never told us about that,” she said, her voice half teasing, half incredulous. “How did we not know about you and Helion?”

You took another sip from your glass, leaning back and pretending to be nonchalant, though inwardly you were amused at their questions. You had definitely seen more than your fair share of shocked expressions over the centuries.

“You’re only in your thirties,” you said with a smirk, setting your glass down on the table beside you. “I’ve had more time to experience things than you can imagine. I’m in my five-hundreds, remember?”

Nesta raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical but intrigued. “Still… How have we never heard any of these stories?”

“Well, the thing is,” you began, glancing between them with a knowing smile, “I’ve had more than just one adventure, if you will. Not just with Helion.”

Feyre blinked. “What do you mean? Like…”

You didn’t let her finish, taking an exaggerated breath. “I slept with Eris too. He’s a charming one, if you can get past his ego. Lucien wasn’t bad either. Good lover, actually.” You shrugged casually, enjoying the shocked expressions on their faces. “And let’s not forget Tarquin. I’ve seen my fair share of High Lords. being Rhysand's sister allows a lot of interactions with higher profiles.”

Feyre’s mouth dropped open, eyes wide in disbelief. “Tarquin? I would never have guessed!”

“Yeah, well, don’t get too excited. We never got very far,” you added with a teasing grin. “Just a few stolen moments here and there, but you know… Tarquin’s good company when you need it.”

Nesta was almost choking on her wine, unable to keep her laughter in. “Wait, so you really weren’t lying when you said you’ve slept with half the court?”

You raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, smirking. “Wouldn’t call it half, but yes, I’ve been around. But those are just the more notable names. There are more.”

Feyre shook her head in utter disbelief. “How have we been friends for so long, and you’ve never once mentioned any of this?”

“Because, darling,” you said, swirling your wine in the glass with a playful grin, “you two have been busy with your own drama. There’s only so much time in a conversation, and quite frankly, I enjoy watching you both unravel the mystery of my past.”

Nesta narrowed her eyes at you, clearly intrigued but also a little annoyed by the way you were making a game out of this. “Okay, fine. But I want to know everything. Tell me about Eris.”

You leaned back, folding your arms and smirking at them both. “Well, that’s a long story. Maybe after another glass of wine?”

Feyre and Nesta exchanged a look, both of them clearly hooked on your tales now, and you could tell they weren’t going to let this go. They were going to need all the details, and you were more than happy to indulge them in their curiosity.

For the first time in a while, you felt truly free. No responsibilities. No expectations. Just three old friends relaxing and laughing in the comfort of the Day Court—and the promise of a few more stories to tell.

A/N: Comments and reblogs would be appreciated, let me know if you'd like to be tagged

[lanf1an]

DREAMS lando norris pt.4 When your childhood bestfriend Flo had convinced you to get the fashion design job at her brother's company Quadrant, it finally paid off when Louis Vuitton was announced as the new sponsor for F1.

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.5

The café was one of those cozy little places tucked away on a quiet street in Monaco, far from the usual chaos of the race weekend. You, Max and Keegan had agreed to meet up for coffee today before the whole sleepover fiasco, the three of you now quietly nursing your coffee, the late morning sun streaming through the windows. It was a slow, easy moment—the kind that had become rare with how busy things had been lately, reminding you of old times in London.

Keegan was scrolling through his phone, probably looking at memes, while Max stretched lazily, his sunglasses slipping down his nose. “I’m glad you and Lando get along well now,” he said casually before taking a sip of his drink, not letting his suspicions of the last night when you were at the apartment for your keycard go.

You blinked. “Do we?” You replied casually. 

Max shot you a look, amused. “Well, yeah. I mean, you used to talk about him like he was your worst nightmare during Quadrant.”

“That’s dramatic. He just always wanted to review my designs that we had already agreed on.”

“Is it?” Keegan cut in, grinning. “You hated the guy.”

You scoffed, leaning back in your chair. “Okay, maybe I wasn’t his biggest fan. But I still wouldn’t say we ‘get along well’ now.”

There had been a shift. He had been texting. Not just about work, but little things. A funny picture from a shoot, a comment about a jacket he knew you hated, a random ‘What’s your coffee order?’ text that had caught you off guard. You had chalked it up to him being Lando—charming, friendly, probably like this with everyone. 

“He’s just—” You searched for the right words. “I don’t know, being normal?”

Keegan snorted. “For Lando, that’s basically flirting.”

You rolled your eyes, but your stomach twisted a little. Because you’d felt it too—that slight shift, the underlying current of something unspoken. And you weren’t sure what to do about it.

Then, a small smile tugged at your lips. “I do have something fun planned for him at the event tonight, though.”

That got their attention. Keegan finally looked up, intrigued. “Oh?”

Max narrowed his eyes. “What kind of fun?”

You just grinned, leaning back in your chair. “You guys will see.”

-

The event was big. Formal. Typical McLaren. It was their Monaco opening. A sea of sharp black suits, starched white shirts, and carefully curated ties. It was the kind of night where image mattered—where every driver, team principal, and executive looked like they had stepped straight out of a luxury menswear campaign.

Except Lando.

He looked good, of course. He always looked good. But instead of a suit like every other man in the room, he was dressed in a perfectly tailored business-casual look: an expensive white knit, sleek navy trousers, and—just to really drive the point home—pristine white sneakers.

Not a blazer in sight.

You watched from your seat in the audience, biting back a smirk as he stepped onto the stage beside Zak, Oscar, and Andrea—all of whom were dressed to the nines in proper suits. Lando barely had time to shake hands before he turned his head, scanning the crowd like he already knew exactly who was responsible. You were easy to find because Max and Keegan next to you had burst out laughing as soon as they saw him.

When he spotted you, sitting comfortably with Max and Keegan, his brows lifted in a silent really? Gesturing to the outfit.

You just smiled sweetly, lifting your hands to applaud like nothing was out of the ordinary. Keegan was the first to crack, letting out a low whistle. “You actually did it. You made him look like he’s here for a tech startup pitch instead of an F1 event.”

Max, already grinning, leaned in. “Wow, you’re an evil genius. How’d you get away with it?”

You shrugged, feigning innocence. “I have enough pull at Louis Vuitton now. They trust my vision.”

On stage, Lando shook his head slightly, fighting off a smirk. Then, ever so subtly, he lifted a hand and gestured at you—one of those small, exasperated motions that said this is your fault.

You just gave him a little wave in return.

He exhaled a laugh, running a hand over his face before focusing back on the event, because, well—he had to. But you knew this wasn’t over.

The event wrapped up smoothly, filled with speeches, applause, and a little too much formal pleasantry. You didn’t see Lando immediately after, but you knew it was only a matter of time.

And sure enough, just as you were slipping past the backstage area—maybe heading toward the afterparty, maybe just trying to make a quiet exit—he found you.

“Undress me. Now.”

His voice was low, but his words were very clear.

You turned, arching a brow as Lando stepped into your space, still looking unfairly good in the outfit you had put him in. “Excuse me?”

He gave you a pointed look. “You picked it. You put me in this. Fix it.”

A slow smirk tugged at your lips. “Didn’t realize you had a problem with it.”

“Oh, I don’t,” he said easily, tilting his head. “It’s the part where everyone else was in suits and I looked like I was about to give a TED Talk, that’s the problem.”

You hummed, feigning deep thought. “Well, maybe I just wanted you to stand out.”

Lando exhaled a laugh, shaking his head. “You knew what you were doing.”

You shrugged, gaze sweeping over him. “And yet… you still looked good.”

For a second, he just watched you—like he was weighing his next move. Then, he leaned in slightly, voice dropping lower. “I’m serious, though. Fix it.”

You swallowed, pulse kicking up.

Because suddenly, this didn’t just feel like him joking around anymore.

“Fine,” you said, steadying yourself. “But I’m not undressing you here.”

Lando’s smirk widened. “Dressing room backstage”

You exhaled sharply, giving him a look. “I’ll get the suit”

He chuckled, stepping back just enough to let you breathe. “I’ll be waiting, stylist.”

And with that, he walked off—leaving you standing there, heart racing, already knowing this wasn’t going to be just about a wardrobe change.

-

The door clicked shut behind you, the distant thump of the party muffled by thick walls.

Lando turned to face you, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“Well?” He tilted his head, voice a quiet challenge. “You started this.”

You looked at him questionably.

‘’Was this your plan all along? Finding a reason to undress me?’’

You rolled your eyes, but your fingers itched to touch him. “You are such a—”

He took a step forward, crowding you against the wall. “Go on,” he murmured, voice dropping. “Undress me.”

He grabbed your wrist, leading it to his waist.

Your breath caught.

You reached for the hem of his knit sweater, fingers skimming the warm skin underneath. Lando inhaled sharply, his hands finding your hips as you tugged the fabric over his head, revealing toned muscle, golden skin.

He watched you, gaze dark, waiting.

And then he was kissing you—deep, insistent, no hesitation.

No pulling away this time.

No one disturbing this time.

You felt yourself melt into him, hands sliding over his bare chest, his fingers slipping beneath the straps of your dress, pushing it down slowly, deliberately. He didn’t wait for you to undress his pants.

His lips moved down your neck, across your collarbone, down your stomach, lower, leaving a trail of heat. He paused just long enough to meet your eyes, teasing. Worshipping.

“I love your clothes,” he murmured against your skin, voice rough. “But without is even better.”

-

You smoothed your hair in the mirror before stepping back into the party, the energy buzzing around you. Lando, as always, looked effortlessly unbothered, like he hadn’t just had his hands all over you.

You were less successful at hiding it.

Max and Keegan noticed immediately.

“Oh, finally,” Keegan muttered, nursing his drink. “Took you long enough.”

Max smirked, raising a brow at Lando. “Have a nice wardrobe change?”

Lando rolled his eyes, but his smirk betrayed him. “Much needed”

Keegan snorted. “Right.”

Max leaned toward you, still grinning. “You really got him with the dress code thing. Brilliant.”

Keegan nodded. “Never seen him look so much like a finance bro.”

Lando groaned. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” Then he turned to you, gaze lingering. “You’re lucky I still look good in anything.”

‘’Glad you two are working well together now.’’

You felt your face heat up, but Lando, the smug bastard, just smirked.  “Oh, yeah, great team effort.”

Max and Keegan burst out laughing again, but you barely heard them—because Lando was still looking at you, that same glint in his eye.

WN: Hope you guys like it! Let me know! All suggestions are welcome. I hope to be updating more regularly, already have many fun chapters for this story.

tl: @freyathehuntress @linnygirl09 @sarx164 @joannaln4 @widow-cevans @444-leqz @laneyspaulding19 @mayax2o07 @n3versatisfied @anayaverse @tvdtw4ever

[lmvari]

Petty Compensation

prompt. you accidentally take the wrong drink order, and the actual owner demands a sip as compensation

characters. scaramouche / wanderer x gn!reader

tags. modern au, attempt at humor

warnings. none

You don’t notice your mistake at first.

The cafe is busy, and you're distracted. Probably by the group of students arguing over a project in the corner or the fact that you only got four hours of sleep last night. Either way, you hear your name being called, or at least, you think it was yours.

Without giving it much thought, you grab the cup from the counter, take a sip, and wince at the unexpected bitterness. Still, you don’t question it and head back to your seat like nothing’s wrong. The cafe is packed and the staff seem overwhelmed that the barista doesn’t even notice who took the drink.

It’s not until someone clears their throat in front of you that you realize something might be off.

“That’s mine.”

You glance up, only to be met with sharp indigo eyes staring you down. The guy in front of you has striking deep blue hair, sharp jawline, and an expression that somehow manages to be both bored and vaguely irritated at the same time. He gestures toward the cup in your hand. “You took my drink.”

You blink at him, then at the cup. Then at him again.

Oh.

In your defense, it looks like your order. You squint at the scribbled name on the side, and sure enough, it’s not yours.

Kunikusushi, it says.

Either his parents had a grudge against him, or the barista completely butchered the spelling.

Still, regardless of how his name is written on the cup, one thing is clear. You already drank from it, which means—

“Oops?” you offer sheepishly.

His brow twitches. “Oops?”

“order for [name]!” the barista calls out.

You glance toward the counter, where another identical cup sits unattended. Your actual order.

You stand up to take it from the counter and offer it to the stranger. His intense stare burns into you the entire time. Shifting under the weight of it, you clear your throat. “Um, sorry. You can take mine instead?”

He looks unimpressed, eyeing the cup with clear disapproval. “My drink is made exactly how I like it. And you’ve contaminated it. I’d take it back but what if you have some kind of disease?”

“I don’t,” you deadpan.

He shrugs. “Can’t be sure.”

“Are you serious?”

He exhales through his nose, gaze flicking to the cup in your hands. “Fine,” he says, holding out a hand. “Give it here.”

You blink. “Wait, what—”

“If I can’t have mine untouched, I want compensation,” he says. “You took a sip of my drink. I’m taking one of yours.”

You gape at him. “That’s literally the same thing you were just complaining about.”

“Yeah, but this time it’s my choice.” He scoffs. “Give it.”

You hesitate but ultimately sigh, handing the cup over. He takes it, and without breaking eye contact, he lifts it to his lips and takes a slow sip.

Your brain short-circuits for a second.

As he swallows, immediately, his nose scrunches in utter disgust. “Ugh. How do you drink this?” He sets the cup on your free hand and glares at it like it personally offended him. “It’s sickeningly sweet.”

You raise a brow. “No one forced you to drink it, asshole.”

“Tch.” He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, still grimacing. “Consider yourself lucky. I’m feeling merciful today.”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “Merciful?”

“You should be grateful I didn’t make you buy me a new one.” He smirks, sharp and infuriating.

You roll your eyes, but before you can throw a retort, he steps back, grabbing his actual drink from your hand.

“I’m taking this back. Try not to steal from me next time, thief.”

You sputter out incoherent words in disbelief. He could’ve just taken it from the start. “Petty!” You say back but he ignores you.

And just like that, he walks away, leaving you flustered, annoyed, and (frustratingly) just a little bit intrigued.

Wait. Next time?

You glance down at your drink and feel a small scrap of paper, torn from what looks like a receipt, clinging to the cup’s condensation. Scribbled across it in messy handwriting and bleeding ink is a string of numbers. His number.

Your cheeks flush and your mouth gapes.

Instinctively, your gaze flicks to the exit, searching for him. He’s already by the door, his own drink in hand, but just before stepping out, he glances over his shoulder.

The moment your eyes meet, he smirks. He knows you’ve found it. Then, without a word, he turns and disappears into the crowd outside.

You stare after him. Your heart knocking once against your ribs, skipping a beat.

Did he plan that from the start?

note. just a little something haha you can tell kuni is my favorite character to write. thank you for reading ^^ feel free to send asks! likes and reblogs are appreciated <3

© lmvari do not repost, translate, or plagiarize any of my works on any platform.

[mcflymemes]

AS SAID BY ASTARION ANCUNÍN *  assorted dialogue from baldur's gate 3

you are mine. no one can change that.

i wish... to drink. and be drunk.

you haven't earned the right to stare at me like that.

you could scream bloody murder out here and no one would ever know.

we should find a tavern and celebrate.

do my eyes deceive me? the gang really is all here.

i'd rather be the only dark power inside your body, if it's all the same to you.

you're cute, you know. in another life we might have been friends.

i don't hate you. because this is not you.

we just have to be vigilant. keep our wits about us.

you can try, but i will stop you.

do what you like. it's none of my concern.

i simply do not care.

we could do it, you know. we could rule the world.

i... i don't know what to say. thank you.

well that's just disgusting.

listen to me, damn it! i'm trying to save you, even if you're too stupid to see it.

believe what you want. i'm done with you.

you have no idea what i can do.

sounds like a delightful dinner plan. perhaps i'll join you.

forgiveness? you've never forgiven anything.

i don't need anyone to speak for me.

i don't owe you a damn thing.

don't worry. i'll keep watch tonight.

just don't ask me again.

is there anything else? any new and interesting ways you can waste my time?

i'll come to you tonight, when you're snugly wrapped in your bedroll and we can have a little privacy.

this time i'll make sure i'm quiet.

you're lucky i'm such an open-minded person.

why send anyone after me? i'm hardly a threat out here.

what are you waiting for? help me!

"you can do whatever you want" sounds terrifying, and it is, but there's opportunity in it, too.

i am so much more than what you made me.

hold very, very still.

i'm sorry, but could you excuse us a moment?

get out of my way. i'm in no mood to talk.

you didn't think i could do it? i'm hurt.

i appreciate your loyalty, darling, but i don't think you understand.

fair? nothing about this is fair.

i don't know who they are, but i have plenty of questions.

i'm glad to hear it.

i do believe you. i know you only did what you thought was best for me.

i just need some time to let it sink in.

you're so good to me.

safe? how can i ever be safe now?

well, hello. looking for a cuddle?

now that you're back with us, we need to have a talk.

how flattering. and disturbing.

please tell me this is important.

there's also gold, sex, revenge... quite the list, really. but failing any of those, i will always settle for shallow praise.

now just tell me i'm beautiful and we can call it a day.

i want to thank you.

you're a vision. and you're so much more than that.

this is all a game to you, isn't it?

for as long as i can remember, i've been used by others.

of course i was attracted to you. look at you, for goodness' sake!

i will forever remember what you did for me today.

that's what you've been waiting to hear, isn't it? that's what you want?

i have been waiting so long for you.

come, give yourself to me.

i'll take care of everything.

it's time to try living again.

i feel safe with you. seen.

we don't have to rush into anything tonight.

would it kill you to dispense a compliment?

looking for something?

honestly, you have no sense of fun.

i do appreciate your enthusiasm, but let's try to restrain ourselves a little.

would you like a tour? we can start with my tent, if you like.

everything was taken from me, too.

well, that could have gone better.

i don't know what you mean.

were you actually worried i was angry?

so what was it like? tell me everything.

i hope i'm not interrupting.

some day that soft heart of yours is going to be torn out of your chest.

what a party. we should do this again.

there you are. i've been waiting. waiting since the moment i set eyes on you. waiting to have you.

you've seen enough already.

i didn't want to lose control.

oh, don't be like that. not every problem has to be beaten to death, my dear.

wait! don't interrupt them!

let's not make trouble for some stranger.

my, this place is fun.

my past isn't exactly a happy story.

that was amazing.

it won't happen again. you have my word.

so many people need killing.

remember who saved you.

don't worry. i'm here.

[krakereir]

Part 2 - My Best Friend's Girl (you're something else) Trafalgar Law x reader

18+ Rating: E - Sexual content. 10k. fem!reader

PART 1 HERE

They find their seats, but as Law pulls up his phone to switch it off, yes, he switches his phone off at the movies, it’s not that weird, he sees that she’s sent him a new message. A new picture. No no no no, not now. Bad idea. Unfortunately, there’s no way he can refrain from looking at it now that he knows it exists. That would be asking his imagination to fire up all his dirty fantasies right before the movie starts. He’ll just have a short peek. Who knows, maybe it isn’t even- Fuck. Law is fucked.

“So Penguin is dating Shachi,” Law says the moment Bepo picks up his call.

“Hey Law!” Bepo answers and though he sounds like his usual cheerful self, there’s a subtle, yet unmistakable nervousness to his tone of voice.

“And you knew,” Law continues.

“Well, I-” Bepo begins.

“So when I called you last week complaining about Penguin’s girlfriend-”

“Law,” Bepo pleads.

“-it didn’t occur to you to mention that he can’t have one?”

Only silence meets him at the other line.

“Why? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“It wasn’t my place,” Bepo explains. Law waits for him to continue and after another pause Bepo does so, albeit reluctantly. “If for any reason Penguin lied to you and said that he got a girlfriend, it wouldn’t be right to tell on him, not even to you.”

“You couldn’t even have told me that he by chance also has a sister with the same name? That it all could be a big misunderstanding?”

“Law, you’re being unreasonable. Two people can be named the same thing.”

“I know that! But-” Law sputters. “Well, it’s just- Argh!”

“I know,” Bepo says and Law could have sworn it sounds like he’s holding in laughter.

Oh, so this is funny to him?

“So when are you arriving today?” Bepo asks and Law decides to let it all go for now.

“I got off the train just now, but there’s a lot happening today, opening of the conference, dinner and probably drinks afterwards,” Law says with open disgust. Just the thought of the kind of people he’ll be forced to be congenial with is making him sick to his stomach.

“Are you still free tomorrow evening?”

“As planned I have bought our tickets for the movie at 8.30pm tomorrow.”

“You’ve booked them already?” Bepo says, now openly laughing. “Law, this is a small town, you don’t have to book cinema tickets in advance on a tuesday.”

“I know that,” Law protests, “but now we have good seats. You know I hate sitting up front.”

Bepo laughs again and all the nagging in Law’s brain has been silenced, he smiles too as he wonders how a town as unassuming and unpleasant as this one could feel so much like home.

----

In the days that have passed since Sunday, and the dramatic reveal of Penguin’s true relation to Y/N, Law has been feeling off.

Of course it was a nice surprise. He was happy to learn that she was single and very likely interested and first and foremost, NOT dating one of his best friends. Yes, it made him happy.

It just left him feeling, well, off.

Just the tiniest bit unbalanced. Ever so slightly unwell. High-strung, jumpy and a little sweaty. Totally normal bodily fluctuations that don't necessarily mean anything.

The problem was just that the situation was so… anticlimactic. In the true sense of the word.

They didn’t even kiss.

No wonder he was feeling high-strung. It’s only natural.

He didn’t manage to get even one measly little peck and the most frustrating part is that it was absolutely his fault. She threw herself at him all week and when it was revealed that he could act upon all his indecent desires, that she wanted him to, he didn’t do anything. They formally exchanged numbers and a mutual interest in seeing each other again as if they were at the end of a fucking job interview. But really, what else could he have done with the threat of Penguin constantly looming over them like a hawk?

Still, he can’t shake the feeling of having lost his chance. Why couldn’t he have made a bolder move when he had her right there? She had basically confessed to seducing him.

Law would be lying if he said that it didn’t still drive him crazy just to think about that part.

Especially now when it’s early in the morning and he finds himself hundreds of miles away in a tiny hotel room with the blinds down and his hand down his pyjama pants, lazily jerking himself off, wishing he had her at the other side of the wall again.

Looking back on last week, Y/N’s actions are even more arousing now that she has confirmed that it was all for him. It was all to seduce him.

He’s jerked off to the memory of her sounds so many times that his fantasies have practically overwritten his memories by now. He finds it difficult to differentiate between what really happened and what he later has made up in a daydream, attempting to fill in the blanks. It’s still effective material, but when he knows that the real thing might be within his reach it ends up lacking.

He slows down the pace even further to make himself last longer. He knows the climax will be nice, but again, lacking, and as long as he keeps it at bay, his pent-up mind half-way believes that it’s not his own hand making him come.

In his head, he can see how pretty she would be underneath him. He would take it slow and she would complain. She would be so fucking needy. Maybe she would try pushing his buttons to provoke him. Shove and hit and pull and bite. She would bite him hard and he still wouldn’t budge. Then when the time was right, he would-

Beep beep, be-be-beep beep, beep beep

Fuck.

He forgot to turn the alarm off when he woke.

The annoying melody drags him down from his high, unfortunately skipping the release, and he regrets dragging out the climax, but finds himself depressingly indifferent to whether he reaches it or not.

With a groan he grabs his phone to turn it off, but as he does he sees something that brings back all the excitement and more to spare.

Two new messages. One text and one… picture.

Y/N When are you coming back?

It’s so simple, so casual and really could mean nothing at all, but then the picture beneath loads.

It shows her face and naked shoulders lit up by an early beam of sunlight. She’s lying on a bed with two fingers stuck in her mouth as if she’s licking something off of them. It’s a beautifully filthy picture. So subtle in its suggestiveness that it in turn becomes pornographic, offering everything up to imagination, but with a subtext clear as day.

Law can’t deny the grin spreading on his face at the sight, he wouldn’t want to. He collapses back on the bed, phone in his hand, and finishes what he started, swiftly and passionately.

----

One day earlier

When Y/N wakes up in her own apartment for the first time in a week, it’s a disappointment. It feels like waking up from a very pleasant dream to see that your everyday is bleak and lonely in comparison. What she priorly thought of as a quite pleasant apartment now seems boring. And empty.

She feels defeated. She had the chance of a lifetime, a week living in the same apartment as the boy of her dreams with her neurotic brother way out of the picture. She had 6 whole days and still she couldn’t bag him.

She shakes the disappointment away and gets up, getting in the mindset of a new day. A new, normal day. It’s not so bad.

She works part time in the small, independent camera shop where the pay is as bad as the people are nice. In the beginning she was hired to help them move the bookkeeping to a digital system and keep up the website, but as the years went by business declined horribly and now there’s only a handful of employees who haven't left for where the grass is greener, so the manager needs her help with a lot more. She likes that it’s varied, but it’s not as flexible as it used to be when she mostly did digital work.

Once upon a time her friends and family were shocked when she told them she would become something as mundane as an accountant, but to her it was never a hard decision. At least you can do bookkeeping from Bali. And it’s a pleasure to keep an independent shop afloat, albeit barely.

Today she’s been more restless than usual and the last couple of hours before they close she’s left alone to tend the shop, which means that instead of being cooped up in the dark room, which she is partial to, she has to stand up front at the cashier, which she finds horribly boring.

No one has come by in almost an hour now and she’s starting to consider leaving a note and going out back again when the doorbell tells her that someone’s entered the shop. She looks up to see-

“Shachi! What are you doing here?”

“Pen mentioned that you were working today, so I thought I’d stop by,” he grins. “He recommended that I come see it before it goes out of business and you lose your job.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” she teases back. “I’m closing up in 40 min, do you want to wait and then grab a bite?”

“Nah, I don’t have much time. Just wanted to say hi.”

“Well, it’s not much,” she says, gesturing to the one room shop they’re in, “but it’s a lot more fun than other jobs I’ve had.”

“I didn’t know you were into photography.”

“I guess I have developed an interest as a result of working here,” she explains. “It surprised me, but I actually like the service work too. I mostly do digital bookkeeping, so I have been able to keep the job even when abroad.”

“You are a very fascinating person,” he says.

“Not any more than you,” she counters. “How are things? Has the school-year begun yet?”

“Last week,” he confirms. “I’m setting up a volleyball tournament to get the kids excited. It’s fun to see them flail around.”

“And how’s my brother doing?” she asks with a comical wiggle of her eyebrow.

“He’s fine,” Shachi shrugs, but a slight, pinkish tint appears over his cheeks. “It’s nice to have the apartment to ourselves, with Law gone this week.”

The silence that follows is filled with the awkwardness of indirectly bringing up both her brother’s and her own sex life in the same sentence, and none of them manages to find anything to say. A customer comes into the shop and hands her a film roll, pays and leaves.

“Are any of these yours?” Shachi asks when they’re alone again, gesturing to the photos on the wall behind her.

“No no no,” she protests. “I could never. Besides, the photos I like to take aren’t the kind you hang on the wall.”

“I see,” he says, smirking. “Have you sent any to Law yet?”

She shakes her head. “Do you think I should?”

“Yes,” he says in all seriousness.

She stops abruptly.

“Really? I- uhm, are you sure? I don’t want to presume-”

“If you want to make him lose his mind, you absolutely should.”

“You’re not messing with me, right? I don’t want to scare him away. He seems so… respectable?”

“I see your concern,” Shachi says, “and if you want to take things slow, you should.”

“But?”

“If you want to seduce him, you should send him the most desperately horny pictures, but show minimal nudity. Trust me, he’s depraved, but prudish at the same time. He loves that convoluted shit.”

“Hmm,” she contemplates it. “You gave me great advice last time. If it weren’t for the fact that he did his best to keep away from me, I’m pretty sure it would have worked.”

“It did work! He’s hooked, you just need to reel him in.”

“You’re horrible, you know that? You enjoy this way too much,”

“Maybe,” he snickers. “Well, I have to go now. Have a good one!”

“Thanks for stopping by!”

----

At the end of the second day of the conference, Law is already sick of it. He can’t stand the thought of even one more quarter of an hour in the presence of his colleagues. He even had to forgo his usual, most-needed 3 o’clock coffee, simply to avoid the flock of assholes surrounding the machine and the conversation they most-likely would trap him in.

But now the day is over and he can finally get to the whole reason for this extraneous trip in the first place. The beam of light in the darkness. The only reason Law even said yes to this horrid idea of a 5 day conference: it happens to take place in the same town where Bepo is doing his residency.

Despite only being 3 hours by train, he hasn’t gotten to see him much at all lately and getting one or two nights with his best friend is worth all the stuck up academics he needs to refrain himself from smacking.

They meet downtown after Bepo is done with his shift, have chinese and then a glass of wine before wandering through the small centre of town, waiting for the movie.

“You seem very happy,” Bepo says, his brows furrowed, as if happiness is a rare disease Law has contracted.

“I’m not,” Law argues, “this conference is at my personal 4th circle of hell.” He keeps his voice level, but the corners of his lips lift up on their own and he can’t make himself mad at it.

“I’m so happy for you!” Bepo exclaims and Law wonders if Bepo ever really listens to what he says.

“It’s nothing big, it’s just-” Law begins before he knows how much he actually wants to reveal. “It’s just that I might have met someone.”

Bepo’s eyes get huge with shock and his smile widens even more. "Does this have something to do with Y/N?"

Even though Law already had called Bepo to berate him for not telling him that Penguin has a sister, he had refrained from mentioning anything concerning his indecent desires about said sister, but it seems that Bepo had already put two and two together.

“It might,” Law answers with a sigh.

“I knew you two would hit it off!” Bepo exclaims. “Hadn’t it been for Penguin, I would have insisted you two meet a lot sooner.”

“I’ve been wondering about that. Shachi hadn’t even met her, so when did you meet her?”

“Oh, she moved apartments last year. Shachi was away and Penguin didn’t want to invite you, so he asked if I could help out. She’s so sweet!”

“I didn’t think Penguin would be the type to be overprotective of his sister.”

“He’s not.”

“Oh yes, he is,” Law insists.

“He’s overprotective of you,” Bepo says and Law’s mind screeches to a halt.

“… what?”

“He doesn’t want her to steal you away from him,” he explains. “Apparently, she’s kind of a flirt.”

Law chooses not to comment on that.

They find their seats, but as he pulls up his phone to switch it off, yes, he switches his phone off at the movies, it’s not that weird, he sees that she’s sent him a new message.

A new picture.

No no no no, not now. Bad idea.

Unfortunately, there’s no way he can refrain from looking at it now that he knows it exists. That would be asking his imagination to fire up all his dirty fantasies right before the movie starts. He’ll just have a short peek. Who knows, maybe it isn’t even-

Fuck. Law is fucked.

The picture is arousing alright.

She’s splayed out on a couch, dressed in only a loose robe that has slipped off her leg, showing off skin all the way up to her hip bone and large parts of her outer thigh. The picture’s taken from above her head so her face isn’t in the frame, but her one naked shoulder is. The fabric hanging loosely off it barely covers the left part of her chest and he’s sure he can see the darker skin of her areolae just beyond the hem of the robe and the hand that isn’t holding the phone is casually resting on her thigh, fingers reaching ever so slightly into the robe on their way to do god knows what and Law is turned on like a light switch.

His cheeks flame up with heat and he grips his phone harder as he struggles to turn it off before someone else sees what’s on it. Then there’s the humiliating task of positioning himself so that there’s as little friction as possible between the coarse material of his tight jeans and his very unwelcome erection.

At his side Bepo looks at him worriedly and seems like he’s about to say something, but then the commercials come to an end and the light goes down in the theatre. Law takes deep breaths, forcing himself to push all indecent thoughts away and when the familiar theme music of Sora, warrior of the sea: Encounter of Kings blast out of the speakers, he feels confident that he will succeed.

That’s when Pink Poison takes the screen. Dressed in a sheer nightgown she kills 5 soldiers. With her mouth.

Law is so fucked.

----

Bepo lives on the outskirts of town in student housing and has to get up early the next day. When the movie ends, Law walks him to the station and they say goodbye. Maybe they’ll manage to see each other once more before Law leaves, maybe not. Right now though there’s only one thing on his mind and the moment Bepo’s bus drives off, Law calls up Y/N.

“You ruined Sora,” he accuses her when she picks up, but despite his stern tone, he’s sort of smiling.

“Law?”

“Your actions have consequences you know.”

“I’m sorry, I just don’t understand at all,” Y/N says. “What are you talking about?”

“The pictures,” he explains painstakingly.

“Ohhh.” There's a pause before she continues, “so you did get the pictures.”

He swears that he can hear her smirk.

“Yes, I got the pictures,” he says.

“Well, you didn’t answer, so I wasn’t sure,” she explains. “I thought maybe the first one didn’t go through, so I sent one more.”

It hits him that he didn’t even think about answering her pictures, despite having masturbated to them, twice. That’s not only embarrassing, but blatantly disrespectful. Not to mention frightfully uncool.

“Well… did you like them?” she asks and her amusement is obvious.

“That’s besides the point!” he sputters.

“So what you’re saying is that you’re mad you had to sit through a movie with a boner?”

“I’m mad that I missed 10 minutes of it when I was forced to do something as downgrading as relieving myself in a cinema toilet.”

It just spills out of him and the moment he admits to this out loud he’s struck by regret.

“What?” she exclaims in shock, then a laugh follows, so loud he has to pull the phone away from his ear. “Why didn’t you wait it out?” she asks.

“I couldn’t,” he mutters, cursing himself for continuing on this degrading and embarrassing subject.

“What do you mean you couldn’t?”

“The movie was sexy, okay?” he whispers reluctantly into the microphone.

“‘Sora, warrior of the sea’ was too sexy?” she asks, now cackling even louder.

“It wasn’t a problem the last time I saw it, so obviously it’s-”

“Law, hold on.”

He freezes at the change in her tone.

“You’ve seen it before?”

“Well, yes. Once, but-”

“You’re blaming me for making you miss 10 out of 200 minutes you’ve seen before?”

“... yes.”

“Law, do you want me to stop with the pictures?” she asks and it’s a straightforward question, free from teasing and flirting.

“Of course not,” he says, without even thinking.

“Then I won’t,” she says simply. With a short chuckle she adds, “Sorry about Sora.”

“I forgive you,” he says genuinely before realising that she wasn’t actually that sorry. She laughs loudly again.

“You are really something, Trafalgar Law.”

Law doesn’t know what to say.

“Call me again soon,” she says and with that, she hangs up.

He’s left dumbstruck.

Then his hands move on their own and before he knows it, he’s pulled up the message log with the pictures. Looking at them now, they’re quite tame. Not that they’re bad, the very opposite actually, they’re good pictures. The composition and lighting enhances its subject in a very… flattering way. It’s just that they’re not as risque now at a second glance. It’s embarrassing to think that this was all it took to rile him up so thoroughly.

He still saves them to his phone.

Then he sends off a text.

LAW I’m coming back on the 10th.

After a second of contemplating he sends off another one.

LAW I really like the robe.

Compared to how much he enjoyed the pictures, it’s a weak compliment, but he can’t get himself to be more explicit. Being sexy in person is hard enough, the pressure of being sexy over text is terrifying.

And he does like the robe. He really, really likes the robe.

Y/N Come see me on the 10th? LAW Okay.

He cringes at how indifferent he sounds, but doesn’t dare to write anything more, afraid to make an even bigger fool of himself.

----

Y/N I think the pictures worked! I kept it very subtle, but he even called me to complain about them. That’s a good sign, right? Shachi complain how? Y/N That he got too horny I think? I didn’t really understand, but he was sort of annoyed that he was out in public when he saw it. Shachi amazing!! your on the right track next step is leave him wanting more! if you want to send more pictures, make sure they’re not as desperate as the ones you started with Y/N I can’t say I understand, but I trust you wholeheartedly. Shachi update me l8er Y/N Say hi to Pen for me Shachi he says hi back! Y/N Really? Shachi actually he says “stop texting my bf, homewrecker” Y/N That’s more like it.

----

By the time Friday rolls around, Law has been to 4 boring dinners, 1 slightly fascinating lecture, 3 frightfully bad ones and 1 disgustingly opulent fundraiser. He’s gotten 5 new pictures from Y/N and masturbated a lot more times than he wants to count.

He’s spent.

Really, he can’t remember the last time he was this exhausted and he regularly does 12 hour shifts.

He got sick of the group of academics he’s travelling with already at the first lunch, they’re all terrible conversationalists. He’s used to zoning out the long monologues and self-praising around these guys, but it doesn’t make it any less annoying.

Tonight is the goodbye dinner and he would pay good money to get out of it, but alas, his boss is one of the worst of the bunch and Law can’t afford pissing him off more than he already has. One can say Law has toned down his punk attitude since his manifesto-creating-days and is now what you can call a typical 30-year-old sell out on the cusp of his big break, who very well knows the importance of pampering important men with big egos.

She would laugh at him if she were here.

He hasn’t called her since that day. She did tell him too, but he figured it would be too much. What would he even tell her, how many more times he’s masturbated to the thought of her since last they spoke? No, thank you.

The pictures were a blessing at first, a welcome escape from his personal hell, but lately every new message he receives is like an additional ball and chain around his foot, reminding him of exactly what it is he doesn’t have. They’re still very modest, but paired with the knowledge of how she sounds when she chases her climax, it’s awfully effective even so.

The more she sends him, the more starved he feels.

----

Y/N I think I fucked up Shachi shit what did you do? Y/N Just what you told me to! But he hasn’t called me again and he’s not responding to the pictures, it’s been like 2 days since he replied maybe he’s disappointed by the new ones? They are a lot less horny than the first Ahhh, now I just feel stupid I’ve spent hours taking these photos, Shachi… HOURS Shachi nooo but honestly it sounds like hes only being his regular loser self and doesn’t know how to text but if you really feel like your losing him you could try to amp up the heat a little gtg now but good luck!!!!! update me l8er

Amp up the heat, huh?

----

“Trafalgar! Are you married?”

Just when Law believed he could go through the whole week without answering questions about himself, one of his colleagues had to learn just a smidge of common decency in the nick of time and ask him a question.

“No, I am not,” he answers simply.

“Thought so,” the other man grunts. “None of you youngins are able to keep a job and a girl at the same time. In my time…”

Bla bla bla.

At least Law won’t be forced to answer more questions for a while now that the “When I was young”- monologue has begun.

He subtly glances down at his phone and sees that he’s received 1 new message and 3 new photos from Y/N in only the last 30 minutes. He knows he should wait until he’s back at his room to have a look, but he can’t help himself. Something nice for his inner eye to look at is exactly what he needs to survive this dinner and none of the latest pictures have even come close to being as explicit as the first two, so he figures he’ll be fine.

He opens the app and the first thing he sees is that she’s sent him her address and an invitation to come to her when he gets back. Then he slowly scrolls up to see the new pictures and-

… Law flatlines.

“Trafalgar! Are you alright?”

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, boy.”

He locks his phone and looks up to see everyone around the table looking at him in a mix of confusion and curiosity.

“I have gotten some disturbing news,” he says slowly and doesn’t even have to pretend to act shocked. “If you will excuse me.”

On the way out of the restaurant he grabs their waiter, pays his share and gives her a weighty tip, while asking her to communicate to his dinner companions that he was forced to leave in the case of an emergency.

30 minutes later he’s checked out and on his way to the train station. He gets to his platform just in time to see the last train roll into the station and he thanks the lord above, who he doesn’t believe in.

4 hours later he’s at Y/N’s address.

----

“Hi.”

“Law,” she greets him, a slight indication of a smile on her lips, as if she’s considering whether to laugh or not.

“Hi,” he says again, softer.

“Why are you here?” she asks.

“It’s the tenth,” he says and holds up his arm to show her his watch. It shows 00.42.

“So it is,” she chuckles softly in surprise.

“And you asked me to come,” he says, slightly short of breath, “on the tenth.”

“I did do that,” she says, almost in a whisper.

The silence is loaded with everything unspoken. He catches her glancing down at his mouth. She catches him trailing her figure with his eyes.

“So, did you want to come in?” she asks, as if he was just a normal guest ringing her doorbell on a normal day, not the man she’s been thinking about constantly the last two weeks ringing her doorbell in the middle of the night.

“Please,” Law says. He too almost succeeded in sounding completely normal.

When she lets him in, it dawns on her what this means, having him here, now, in her apartment. The embarrassment seeps into her as the overwhelming shock of seeing him again settles.

“I didn’t expect-” she says, with a slight stutter.

She was going to shower, she was going to shave, she was going to take out the trash blocking the doorway and she was going to clean up the multiple bowls of old, soggy cereal on the kitchen counter. He was not supposed to come before-

“Y/N,” he says in a quiet, breathy voice. He speaks so close to her ear that she feels a tingling down her spine. “I’m sorry to barge in on you like this, I just-”

He stops himself mid-sentence and she looks up to see why. In the dim light of the corridor, his eyes almost look black. They’re still golden, but now they’re dark, like petroleum, like oil, and she could simply drown in those eyes. What a terrifyingly sweet death. She would let him drag her down into the sticky black goo of delicious tar in a heartbeat.

“Y/N?” he repeats, for the first time tonight with a smile.

“Ye- Yes,” she says, a small chuckle escaping her at how utterly stupid she must look and the fact that she simply does not care. She doesn’t even care about the two bags of trash at their feet. She doesn’t care about her greasy hair, about being sweaty and dirty. This is the best thing that could have possibly happened tonight.

“Am I interrupting?” he asks.

She nods before she can register what he was saying and a prominent line draws down over his brow in worry.

“I am?” he asks. “Sorry, I didn’t-”

“Law,” she coos and without even thinking, she lays a reassuring hand on his cheek, her fingertips gracing the soft strands of his hair. “It’s good to see you.”

He eases up under her touch, ever so slightly even leaning into it.

“Likewise,” he murmurs.

“Would you like to stay the night?” she asks, not really sure why, it’s really way too late for him to go anywhere else, but it does feel right to ask. It lets her reveal that she really wants him to.

“I would,” he admits, a shimmer of amusement in his eyes. “And would you like it if I kissed you now?” he asks her in a low murmur.

She gives him his answer by running her hand further into his hair, grabbing the back of his head and pulling him towards her slowly.

Firstly, their noses meet for a second. It’s only a small colliding of noses, but it breaks the ice and makes what comes after seem easier.

Secondly, their foreheads touch. A touch that is not innocent, but rather heavy and solid. A meeting of two minds, aching for connection.

When their lips finally meet it’s slow, but more than that, it’s deep. It’s as if they just skip past the first stages of a first kiss and instead swiftly fall into the hungrily unabashed type of kiss, slowly and meticulously tasting each other. They fit together like they were always meant to be doing this.

The sizzling chemistry between them does not crystallise itself in a fit of passion, but rather as an all-consuming void. A black hole swallowing their whole world and opening up the pathway to something completely new. Something scary, but exciting.

But with him, there’s no need to worry. It feels like she’s been kissing him for years and she knows exactly what to do. Even though it's scary to feel as if she’s being swallowed down into a hole of nothingness, it feels as if they’re going down together. She doesn’t doubt for even an instant that he will follow her.

“Thank you,” Law manages to say in between kisses.

“For what?”

“For- Fuck, the pictures. Thank you for the pictures.”

“You’re very welcome,” she grins into the kiss.

“But also for being so…”

“So?”

“So… Ehm, it’s just, I’m not a brave person, Y/N,” he begins while she places a trail of kisses down his neck and behind his ear. “Ahh- I- Well, I find these things difficult. And it might have been a lot harder if it weren’t for the fact that you’re so…”

“So…?” she repeats, absolutely teasing him for his ramblings.

“So fearless.”

“What-?” she protests, smiling wide from the flattery, but too embarrassed to do anything else than pull away from him and hide her face.

“So easy to want,” he further explains, cupping her face with both his hands and chasing her back to steal just one more kiss before he adds, “So kind.”

Y/N simply looks back at him for the longest couple of seconds before she can’t contain herself anymore. She needs him. She firmly grips a hold of his jacket and starts dragging him up the short flight of stairs.

Law makes an undignified yelp at being hauled away and he momentarily halts them both in an attempt to take off his outerwear. She tries to drag him with her despite it and he almost loses his balance.

“My shoes-?” he asks, in a way of explaining why he can’t just let himself be dragged inside.

“Leave them on, throw them away,” Y/N suggests hastily, letting go of the grip and disappearing into the bedroom. “I don’t care about the shoes! Just come here.”

“Yes,” he adheres blindly and follows her shortly after.

She waits for him by the edge of the bed and has begun slowly pulling off her sweater. He rushes to reach out and wrap his arms around her when her arms are lifted and the skin of her torso is exposed. As her face appears again from under the fabric, he kisses her lips softly, lazily.

“Y/N,” he moans.

“I need you so badly,” she murmurs back into his lips.

“Tell me more, please,” he begs her.

“About how much I need you?” she asks with an insolent grin.

He nods, his eyes are droopy and fluttering closed as he touches her, kisses her.

“So much,” she breathes out. “I need you so much, Law, I can hardly-”

She interrupts herself when she drops down on the bed and unexpectedly lands on something cold and mysterious. From under her ass, she pulls out sheets of paper- Oh fuck. The fucking comics. She doesn’t even know why, but that’s so embarrassing.

“Oh, these,” she says, not having a clue what she’s going to say, “I borrowed these from the library, just-”

“It was so fucking hot,” he groans and follows after her down on the bed. He takes the comics out of her hands and carefully slips them down on the floor. Then he pulls her over in his lap and grinds up against her, burying his face in the crook of her neck. “All the pictures were, but- those last ones with the comics and the- Oh, fuck, it was so sexy.”

“Really?” she almost whines, shocked by both his enthusiasm and at the sparks of pleasure shooting up in her at the way he ruts against her.

“I couldn’t help myself, I just had to jump on the first train,” he pants. “Only for you. Because I need you too. So much.”

“Fuck, Law, we need to,” she sighs, “we need to hurry. Off with these. Now.”

“Yeah?” he asks, not speeding up the touches, but actually slowing down and not making any move to remove any of his clothes either. “Are you impatient?”

There’s been a change in him. She couldn’t say when, but at one point he grew confident and now, he’s teasing her.

“Come on,” she orders, “this is not the time.”

He smirks, it’s small and subdued, but so free. It makes her want to smile along and join whatever he’s got planned, but Y/N has an agenda and Law getting fired up with teasing her is not a part of her plan.

“It’s not funny,” she says, trying to sound stern and failing.

“It is actually funny, Y/N,” he argues, “because I knew you’d be like this. All week, while you’ve been teasing me with your pictures, I have spent every waking minute thinking of ways I wanted to tease you back, when I finally got my hands on you.”

“Oh fuck, really?” she asks, getting warm at the thought.

“I knew you’d be so easy to rile up,” he murmurs as he embraces her to unclasp the bra at her back. When he finally gets it to work and pulls the fabric off of her, he lets out a satisfied groan. He starts kissing her chest, gently cupping her breasts with his large, warm hands.

“Oh, these are-” he moans and then his words get muffled as the kisses turn into small, tender nibbles and then an insistent sucking, “mmmh…”

Y/N can’t help the self-consciousness seeping through her pleasure and making her tense.

“They’re not that- I mean, I know that they’re-”

“No, they’re so perfect,” Law interrupts, pulling back to look up at her. “I love them.” He looks so wasted, so far gone. It puts her at ease.

“You think?”

“You are made for me,” he whispers, before once again putting his hot mouth on her nipple, giving it a light tug and releasing it.

“So are you going to give me more?”

“What are you talking about?” he chuckles, cupping her breasts and now even massaging them gently, taking a lot of pleasure in every squeeze. “I’m giving you so much already.”

“You know what I want,” she challenges him, her voice weak and breathless, but he ignores her.

“You smell so good,” he murmurs to himself, burying his face into the crook of her neck again, taking a long whiff of her scent.

Her head falls against his shoulder. She’s giving in to his teasing, revelling in the pleasure she gets, the way his touch feels so feverish and tingling against her skin. She does her best to just enjoy that and to put off all thoughts of what more she wants. She tries her best to just stay in the moment with him, not get impatient and definitely NOT start to beg or anything of the sort. But alas, she can’t help it.

“Please fuck me,” she whimpers before she can stop herself. “I just want you to fuck me hard, Law.”

“Aw, sweetheart,” he coos, but there’s no warmth in his reassurement, only vicious satisfaction at her weak state. “Begging already? You couldn’t wait any longer? I must say I’m almost disappointed. So impatient, but still so docile.”

She groans in frustration and gently tugs at his sweater to get him to take it off.

”Uh-uh,” he says. “You first.”

He undresses the rest of her and when all that’s left is her underwear, he lets her pull the sweater off over his head along with the t-shirt underneath. When Y/N lays her eyes on his naked chest and shoulders, it’s like she’s equipped with new energy. She takes charge and pounces, pushing him down on the mattress and keeping him there with force as she straddles his hips.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about these,” she says, letting a nail scrape against a line of his chest tattoo. Law inhales sharply, clearly affected by her newfound initiative.

She keeps tracing his tattoos with a faint touch and he responds instinctively, arching his back and lifting up to meet her touch, to get her to do more.

“Fuck, I just love your tattoos, Law,” she whispers, currently following the markings on his left arm, then all the way out to his fingers. She continues exploring the tattoos, but now with her mouth. Greedily, she takes three at a time, letting her tongue circle around each finger.

“Y/N,” he warns, sounding utterly weak.

She hums and buckles her hips down against his’, making him curse. At once she lets go of his hand and she leans over to meet him, face to face.

“Miss being in control?” she asks, teasingly. “Is that it?”

“No,” Law scoffs.

“I don’t believe you,” she sing-songs.

“So now you want to tease? I thought you were getting impatient?” he asks, obviously trying to get back in the driver’s seat. She isn’t going to let him.

“I think you’re very uncomfortable with giving away control,” she says, tenderly placing a kiss at the corner of his mouth, “but I also think it makes you even more turned on when someone takes it from you.”

Law manages to laugh, but it’s a hollow laugh, only made to conceal that what she’s saying is right. That the way she’s holding him down and taking the reins, is simply making him go insane.

“I am not going to deprive you of that depraved lust, baby,” she whispers, grinding down on him once more. “I’m going to shower you in it. I’m going to take care of you.”

“Y/N,” he moans.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Just give it to me,” he sighs. “I’ll take it all.”

She laughs. “Oh, how the tables have turned,” she teases, “but now it’s your turn to wait.”

“Please,” he begs, “I think I’m dying.”

“You’re not dying, Law,” she says, fondly caressing his forehead. “You’re living.”

“Ah,” he sighs. “It’s exhausting.”

While she strips him naked, he’s mostly quiet. A soft gasp here and there as her nails scrape against his skin or as she leaves an unexpected kiss along his thighs.

The last item of clothing she removes is the black boxers, keeping his very hard dick encaged in the tight fabric. She’s already noticed that it’s big, that it would be more than satisfying. She’s caught herself biting her lip in suspense just looking at the outline of it, more times than one. He’s probably caught her a few times too.

But when she actually strips the boxers off him and it bounces against his stomach in its natural state, she can’t help but widen her eyes at the sight.

“Shit, you are big,” she murmurs in surprise.

“Yeah, uhm, well,” he begins, shifting uncomfortably up to lean against his elbows, “it can be a bit much.”

She swallows hard, feeling excitement bubbles inside her at the thought and wondering just what “a bit much” would entail.

“Do you have any lube?” he asks. Suddenly he’s back to being uncomfortable and anxious, avoiding her gaze.

“Sure,” she says, moving closer to him and picking up his hand, “but I don’t think we’re going to need any.”

Then she leads his hand to push past the edge of her underwear and into the pooling wetness that lies beyond.

He inhales sharply when the tips of his fingers easily slide deeper into her, lubricated by one simple touch.

“Fuck me,” he gasps, “that’s incredible. You are fucking incredible.”

She recognises that if there’s one time where it’s appropriate for her to take control, it would be now. Even though Law’s eyes are clouded with lust from feeling her wetness with his own fingers, he still looks unsure of how to proceed. She would guess that he’s had multiple bad experiences with feeling guilty from hurting people during sex with his big, fat dick. Y/N would laugh if he didn’t look so distraught.

“Are you clean?” she asks, pulling off his panties.

He nods slowly.

“Me too,” she tells him, “and I’m on contraception.”

“What are you saying?” he asks.

“I guess I’m asking you if you would mind fucking me without a condom?”

Law’s jaw goes slack, then he nods.

“So you would mind?”

“What? No, I mean, no, I wouldn’t mind,” he corrects himself, his cheeks flaring up.

“Ok?” she asks as she takes a hold around his dick

“But shouldn’t we-” he begins.

“Just let me give it to you,” she reassures him, finding her place on top and lining herself with him.

“Are you sure?” he asks through gritted teeth as the head hooks into her entrance and the tip enters her.

“Yes,” she gasps at the delicious stretch, “I’ll take care of it. Just give me a minute before you do anything.”

“Fuck,” he curses, “yeah, ok.” He does his best to control his breathing as she begins sinking down.

He’s warm. And of course big. Girthy. She’s overwhelmed just from taking a little part of him.

“It’s not that bad,” she gasps, “just a little more time and I’ll be opened up and-”

That’s when the stretch becomes almost too much. She shifts her knees in order to lift herself up again ever so slightly, but then her knee lands on something slippery under the covers that makes her thigh glide further away.

In an attempt to keep herself upright, she tries leaning forward with her hands planted on his chest, but at the same time, Law lunges forward too, trying to grab her hips to keep her from falling and-

She slams down on his hips and he bottoms out into her, going deeper than she’s ever felt anything before.

“AHh, fuck.”

He groans at the long-awaited friction while she whimpers at the overwhelming stretch, painful and pleasurable at the same time.

“I’m so, so, sorry,” he begins. He takes a hold of her hips and tries to help her off him, but she won’t budge. She’s frozen, clinging to his torso with all she’s got.

“Y/N, get off,” Law orders, but it’s clear that it takes him a lot of restraint to utter those words, “I’m hurting you.”

“No,” she groans, “no, we have to stay like this for now.”

“Y/N-”

“It’s just so good, I can’t-” she gasps for air. Then she moves her hips in the slightest buckle and lets out a moan.

“Oh fuck,” Law groans, automatically gripping her hips in an attempt to get more movement out of her.

“Don’t move,” Y/N orders.

“Of course not,” Law croaks. “Wouldn’t fucking dream of it.”

“I just need this for a little bit,” she murmurs, once again grinding down very gently and very controlled, drawing out a frustrated whine from Law.

Oh. That’s nice.

She wants to hear it again, so she does it once more. It’s really too much for her, but it gives her just what she wanted. His groans are so deliciously arousing and she begins rocking in a constant movement to keep them coming.

“No, this is no good. You’re hurting,” he says and stops her movement with a firm grip around her waist. “Let me.”

There’s something in his voice that makes her turn compliant again and she lets him lead her off him and down to lie on the mattress. He pulls out another comic from under the sheets, presumably the cause of her little slip up. She whines in disappointment, already aching at the loss of him inside her, but then she feels a touch at her entrance again and quickly after a finger plunges deep into her.

Even though the pressure from one single finger is lacklustre compared to what she just experienced, the swift motion makes sparks fly all the way up to her ears.

“Again,” she begs.

He complies, but he must have added another finger already because the pressure increases, giving her a new type of shock.

“I’m done teasing you now,” he murmurs softly, “this is purely practical. Now that I’ve felt you all the way, I can’t help myself. I need to open you up as quickly as possible, so that I can fuck you hard, just like you asked me to.”

His words send a jolt through her stomach in time with his fingers sliding back in. This time, though, he keeps them there and slowly begins pulling her open from the inside, stretching her good. Then he pulls them out to an indignant groan from her.

“Y/N. Lube,” he orders.

“In the drawer,” she pants, “the nightstand.”

When his fingers return, they’re colder.

“You can take one more, right baby?” he asks softly. “You can take three of my fingers?”

“Yes,” she insists.

She can. Three whole fingers are stuffed into her and when he somewhat curls them, deep inside of her, her hips involuntarily buckle up into the air. She lets out a breathy whine.

“Yes! Do that again,” she pleads.

“Of course,” he grins.

And he does.

“Oh, I- it’s… ah,” she whines incoherently.

“You’re getting so loose,” he praises her. “Can you do one more?”

“I’ll take anything you give me,” she says, so high on the endorphins, feeling like nothing more than a pliant blob in his grip. He adds one more and now the stretch returns, but now it’s only good, no longer painful.

“You’re ready for another go?” he asks. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes!” she moans. “Fuck, I want to.”

His fingers pull out and she waits for him with her eyes fluttering closed. He finds his place and lines himself up, but he doesn’t push in. He rubs his tip against her folds, dipping in and out of the pool of heat.

She loves it so much, she doesn’t even think to complain about the teasing of it. She is even disappointed for a second when he stops, but then he begins sinking into her again and she can’t focus on anything else. She breathes deeply, ordering herself to relax into it, to be good. She wants him to think that she’s good.

He sinks in completely and stays there,

“Breathe,” he orders her. She releases the breath she’s holding. “Good. How does it feel?”

“Good,” is all she can think to say. “So good.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No, not like last time.” It’s hard to put together the words in whole sentences. It does hurt, but it’s not a scary hurt. It’s good. It’s so, so, so, so good. She feels like her brain is submerged in goo, making everything happen slowly.

“Just keep breathing. Until you’re completely relaxed,” he inhales deeply, “I won’t move at all.”

Y/N focuses all she’s got on her breathing. With each inhale she feels him stretch her more and with each outhale she relaxes around him. She’s sure he could have begun moving a long time ago without bringing any real hurt to her, but the slow pace brings a kind of excitement with it.

“60,” Law whispers, “59, 58.”

Slowly, he begins counting down. Without actually knowing what will happen when he reaches 0, Y/N can feel her arousal blossoming up even more. She begins yearning for movement, for friction.

“43, 42, 41.”

His mouth is almost at her ear and each whisper causes tingles down her spine.

“36, 35.”

She moans in response, showing him what he’s doing to her and how eager she is for him to reach the end of his countdown. He chuckles, but he doesn’t lose track of the counting.

“19, 18, 17.”

“Yes, Law,” she whispers. “Please, I want it.”

“11, 10, 9.”

She clenches hard around him, eager for the stimulation and he skips a number in response.

“6, 4,” he gasps. “3, 2, 1.”

Law pulls out halfway before he slowly pushes back in.

“Yes!”

It’s bliss. It’s only pure bliss.

He begins pumping into her, still not fast, but hard. Long, deep strokes. He takes her legs and lifts them up to get even deeper and she gasps at the sensation.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he pants, “is this okay?”

“Yes! Fuck, yes, it’s perfect.”

He replies with a filthy groan, picking up the pace considerably.

She can’t stop making sounds, it’s like he’s fucking them out of her. It’s like he’s unlocked a blockage in her chest and now all her airflow has to be made into sound. She’s chanting his name with each thrust.

“You’re so good for me,” he praises.

“Law.”

“Y/N,” he gasps, sounding close to his climax, “how can you come?”

“On top,” she manages to croak in between breaths.

In the next moment he pulls out of her and she’s being tossed around to land on top of his chest.

“Come on, please, just use me however you want,” he begs. “I’m yours.”

And she does.

It takes a while to build up, but when it arrives, she rides him through her climax with a grip around his shoulders so firm that she probably bruises him.

“Yes, yes, yes,” he chants, “fuck, you’re sexy. So perfect.”

“Law,” she groans, tensing up and collapsing on top of him.

“Let me fuck you, please, let me fuck you til I come,” Law begs.

“Yes. Just use me back,” she complies, feeling so completely relaxed and submissive, as if no real tension exists in her body. “Whatever you need, Law, take it.”

He fucks her fast, up close and intimate, forehead touching forehead, untill he comes deep inside her with a long-drawn groan and a sigh of her name.

----

When she comes back from the bathroom she finds an extremely relaxed Law, spread out across the bed. He lifts his arms, just barely, to show that he wants her to lay down next to him.

“Next time, I’m going to tease you-” he yawns in the middle of the sentence, “-a lot more. So just prepare yourself.”

“Yeah,” she grins, “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“You don’t think I could drive you insane?”

“Sure, but you would drive yourself insane first.”

A sheepish grin draws on his lips. It’s the most precious thing she’s ever seen and she pulls herself closer into him.

“Law,” she sighs.

“Yes?”

She hasn’t got anymore to say, but she lets out another satisfied sigh. He chuckles in response.

“I agree,” he murmurs.

“Remind me to thank Shachi,” she mutters to herself.

“Ok. Why?”

“He was the one who told me to send you the pictures,” she explains, almost half-asleep already. “He was the one who gave me all the advice during last week too. Told me to wear those skimpy shorts and to get you to drive me everywhere. To show up in the middle of the night with a bottle of wine.”

Law wakes from his postcoital stupor with a jolt.

“Wait a minute.” His face is drawn down in a frown of confusion. “You’re taking advice on flirting from Shachi?”

Y/N now too recovers to a more conscious state. Regret flashes over her face as she says, “Yeah, I uhm- Is that bad?”

Law falls back on the bed and buries his face in his hands. For a second it looks like he’s crying and Y/N begins to really freak out, but as he moves his hands to reveal his face, she sees that he’s laughing. Like a proper laugh. Big mouth, showing teeth. She even gets a glimpse of his tongue. It’s so different from all the smirking, chuckling and sinister laughter he usually does, it catches her completely off guard.

“I really overestimated you,” he sighs, coming down from his laughter high.

“What do you mean?” Y/N asks.

“Here I thought you were some magical siren creature, created from my deepest desires. Instead, it appears that I have a mole in my midst, leaking private information and you, it turns out,” he smiles, “are just as neurotic as me. Fuck, that is such a relief actually.”

As he says it, he reaches out after her and pulls her into his embrace. She ends up resting against his chest with her head against his shoulder. Suddenly him calling her neurotic is the highest compliment in the world.

“I might be neurotic, yes, though I could never compete with your nerves,” she argues, but all real concern is washed away and she is now in a blissful state of complaisance.

“Are you sure?” he counters. “Seemed like you could very well compete with my need for control. Maybe there’s more we have in common.”

“Let’s find out,” she chuckles.

“I can’t wait,” he responds fondly.

Y/N turns around and lies down on the top of his chest to look at him face to face. After studying him for a few seconds, gathering courage, she asks, “Be my boyfriend, Law.”

His eyes go big and his jaw goes slack. She holds her breath waiting for his response.

“Oh, okay,” he finally says. “Yeah, I would love to.”

“Really?”

“Fuck yeah, I’ll be your boyfriend,” he confirms, “and you’ll be my girlfriend.”

“Yeah,” she says.

“Shit,” he chuckles. “Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“But good.”

“Good.”

They both sigh deeply, almost in unison, both knocked out by the heat and passion of what they just experienced. And by the fear of finding something this good. Something they would want to keep forever, if they could.

Part 1

On AO3

[sound-of-scoups]

How Did We End Up Here? | LC | Oneshot

Pairing: Lee Chan x Female!Reader  Genre|tags: Oneshot, non idol!au, comedy, fluff, pinning, down bad Chan, acquaintances to lovers, smut.  Word count: 18.9k+ Rating: Explicit adult content (MINORS DNI). Warnings: Explicit language, alcohol consumption, allusion to use of weed, mentions of cheating, Chan is down bad to the point he is doubting himself, there's a Gilmore Girls reference and several 5sos song lyrics referenced as well (if you know, you know), reader has an unspoken noona kink, switch!chan, switch!reader, dry humping, oral (f. receiving), fingering, face sitting, pussy eating, cum eating, teasing, unprotected sex (you know it’s bad), creampie. If there’s more please let me know. A/N: Happy birthday to my baby (even though he's older than me lol)! I wrote this story in a complete state of mania—the idea hit me, and in less than four days, it was finished. I thought posting it today, for his birthday, would be a good idea. I accidentally posted it earlier while scheduling, but I'm ignoring that little mishap hehe. Please read my final notes!! Enjoy reading, and let me know what you think! <3 🎧 Now listening to: end up here – 5 seconds of summer; i would – one direction; obviously – mcfly; loverboy – a-wall; best friend – rex orange county; espresso – sabrina carpenter; out of my limit – 5 seconds of summer; shup and dance – walk the moon; heart out – the 1975; intoxicated – the cab; wait – dino. Read on AO3

Summary: Lee Chan has had a massive crush on you since the day he first saw you. He never thought he'd have a chance with you, since you were so obviously out of his league, but it turns out life has a way of writing the right things with crooked lines.

He knew the exact moment you walked into the house. At this point, it was as if he had a sixth sense for your presence—like a Y/N sense, if he had to name it.

Not that it was hard to tell when you did, since every face in the room turned the moment you walked in. Most people already knew who you were, and those who didn’t? Their expressions made it clear: they were dying to find out.

There was this energy about you that demanded attention, even when you weren’t trying. It wasn’t just the way you carried yourself, though that certainly played a part. It was the way people gravitated toward you, their eyes lingering, their conversations subtly shifting as if they were waiting for you to say something, to do something. 

And he—well, he had always been attuned to it. To you. Even before he truly understood why.

Tonight, when you walked through the doors of the frat house he was part of, wearing a tight black corset-style top, a short skirt that did little to cover your legs, and black thigh-high boots that made your legs appear even longer than they already were, looking absolutely breathtaking, Chan felt his head spin.

It could have been the ten shots of tequila he’d been forced to drink after losing some random game against Yeonjun a couple of minutes ago, but he knew it wasn’t. That was simply the effect you’d had on him since the day he first laid eyes on you—orientation day, two years ago. You had been in charge of welcoming the freshmen to their dorm building, and when you smiled at him like he was the most important guy there, he was a goner.

Of course he knew you were probably just doing your job as a sophomore, but still, your smile had been stuck in his mind ever since.

“Pathetic,” he heard Seungkwan's voice, followed by a slap on the back of his head.

Chan barely flinched, too busy pressed against the wall watching you every move as you wave through the crowded room like you owned the place. For him, in a way, you did. You weren’t loud about it, didn’t strut around making a scene, but there was an undeniable pull to you, one that made people shift to make space, one that had them leaning in, hoping for even a sliver of your attention.

And him? He was no better than the rest of them.

He tore his gaze away just long enough to shoot Seungkwan, who was looking at him like he was the saddest excuse for a man to ever exist, a glare. Vernon was right beside him, looking high enough to be in another dimension, and yet, was still wearing the same expression as the eldest of the three. 

“What?”

Seungkwan sighed dramatically, crossing his arms. “You look like a lovesick puppy. Again.”

It was no secret to anyone that Lee Chan had a huge, enormous and gigantic crush on you. If he was being honest, by this point, it was a surprise you didn’t know—which he had some doubts—, since he wasn’t exactly very skilled at hiding it. 

Not that he was openly hitting on you when he had the chance, because that was far from his reality. Very far, really. He had never done so and whenever he had a chance to be near you or participate in the same conversation as you, he would turn just as red as the lipstick you were wearing tonight, not to mention the stuttering he didn't even know he had. 

It was a mess. He was a mess. 

Not that he would admit that to Seungkwan, anyway. 

Chan scoffed, forcing himself to straighten up. “I do not look like a lovesick puppy.”

Seungkwan snorted. “Yeah, and I’m a background vocalist for Beyoncé.”

“You do,” Vernon said, deadpanned. “Minho just asked me if you were okay because, and I quote, ‘Chan looks like he just got hit by a truck.’”

Seungkwan tilted his head to the side, nudging him with his elbow. “Chan-ah, are you seriously gonna spend the rest of your college years pining after this girl?” 

His face flushed, a mixture of embarrassment and frustration tugging at him. Chan opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out. Because what was he supposed to say? That he wasn’t pining? That he wasn’t completely, utterly, hopelessly gone for you? Even he wasn’t delusional enough to deny it.

Seungkwan, apparently sensing his internal struggle, let out a long-suffering sigh. “That’s what I thought.”

Chan scowled, lifting his drink to his lips if only to hide his face and Vernon chuckled, clearly enjoying the way his younger friend was unraveling under the pressure of their teasing.

“Just go talk to her,” he said, voice slow and lazy. “She doesn’t bite, dude.”

“Easy for you to say,” Chan muttered, his eyes flickering back to you, who were now chatting with your friends in the corner. “She’s your friend.”

Oh yeah, there was also this little detail: you were Vernon’s classmate. 

Not only were you both seniors, you were also majoring in the same program—linguistics—meaning you shared the vast majority of your classes. Chan knew you were in the same study group and that you were paired up for most of the projects, which had led to a friendship that he very much envied.

You might think that having a mutual friend would make things easier for him, but you’d be completely wrong. Soon he discovered that Vernon wasn’t willing to help. Not because he didn’t believe Chan had a chance with you, but because he insisted that Chan should grow a pair and talk to you himself.

Which of course, he had already shown incapability of doing so thousands of times. 

Seungkwan clicked his tongue. “You really are pathetic.”

“Hyung—” Chan groaned. 

“I mean, come on,” Seungkwan interrupted, trying to finish his point. “You can deadlift three plates but you can’t say one sentence to a girl you like?”

Chan glared at him. “That is not the same thing.”

“Yeah, one requires actual effort,” Vernon added, smirking.

By now, he was used to all the teasing from his friends. It didn’t keep him from wanting to strangle them any less though. 

Either way, there wasn’t much he could do. It wasn’t just about the amount of courage he had or how much effort he put into it; crushing on you for the last two years had felt like playing a game he was destined to lose. Even though in the deepest desires of his mind he was your boyfriend, that role was already filled by someone much older than him. 

A Marine dude, apparently. His name? Chan didn’t care. 

Not only was he the most lucky dude on the planet by having you as his girl, he was also tall, strong and a walking definition of everything Chan wasn’t: confident, assertive, the complete opposite of the shy mess he’d been around you since day one. He would probably kill Chan without warning if he could peek into his mind and see all the dreams he had about you. 

And the guy irritated the fuck out of him. Something about his attitude, his hundred tattoos, the fact that he was probably three times his height, and the way he marked his territory by walking you to every class, every day. Like, damn, dude, we get it, she’s yours. At least let the rest of us appreciate the divine gift the universe sent us by looking at her.

Every time Chan saw him, he felt like he was suffocating under the weight of the competition. The worst part? You didn’t seem happy with him and everyone knew it. And even though it was clear from every word and every look that you were completely unaware of Chan’s feelings, the thought of you with someone else—someone like him—made his insides twist in ways he didn’t know he could feel.

“She has a boyfriend,” Chan said out loud, feeling a bitter taste on the tip of his tongue as he did. 

“So?” Seungkwan arched an eyebrow. “I don’t see him here. Do you?”

He directed his last question to Vernon, who just shrugged and shook his head. “Nope.”

Chan swallowed hard, eyes darting toward you again. Sure enough, there was no sign of your boyfriend. Not that he was about to get his hopes up. He had enough self-awareness to know he was probably just grasping at straws, because even if he never existed at all, Chan still wasn’t sure he’d have the guts to walk up to you.

“Look, man,” Seungkwan said, breaking through his dark thoughts. “You’ve gotta stop comparing yourself to him. You’re Lee Chan. You have a million things going for you, and besides…” He paused for effect. “You’re way better looking.”

“Thanks for the support,” Chan replied dryly, rolling his eyes.

Vernon chimed in, “Seriously, dude. You’re smart, funny, and way more likable than that guy. You just need to show her that.”

Chan sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “It's not that simple, guys.”

“It is that simple,” Seungkwan shot back. “You’re making it complicated.”

Before Chan could argue, the music shifted, the bass thrumming through the floorboards, and a new wave of partygoers stumbled in, laughing and chattering loudly. His attention snapped back to you, just in time to see you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, your lips curling into a soft smile at something one of your friends said. The sight alone made his pulse quicken.

Then, as if you could feel his eyes on you, your gaze flickered up and locked onto his.

Chan froze.

It wasn’t an accident. It wasn’t just a glance that skimmed over the room, landing on him by chance. No, this was intentional. You looked at him like you had known he was there all along, like you’d expected to find him in that exact spot, leaning against the wall with a drink in hand and his friends at his side.

And then, as if to send him straight into cardiac arrest, your lips, marked by the most beautiful shade of red he had ever seen, curved into a smile. 

For a split second, it felt like the entire world blurred around the edges, muffled voices fading into static. Your eyes lingered, holding his in a way that sent a rush of heat down his spine. Then, just as quickly as it happened, you turned back to your friend, your fingers wrapping around the red cup in your hand as if nothing had transpired.

He was sure he had just checked off a box on the list of clichés where the lovestruck fool forgets how to breathe. His fingers tightened around the red cup in his hand, his heartbeat hammering so loudly he was certain Seungkwan and Vernon could hear it.

Chan looked away just a second before he heard, “She’s coming over,” Vernon said, and for once, his voice didn’t sound amused. It sounded almost surprised.

He blinked, breaking free from whatever trance he had fallen into. “What?”

Seungkwan’s hand landed on his shoulder, shaking him once. “She. Is. Coming. Over.”

He barely had a second to react before you started making your way through the crowd, weaving between bodies with practiced ease, heading straight toward them. The air in the room seemed to thicken with every step you took in his direction, and though he told himself to stay cool, to not let it show, he knew the battle was already lost. His grip on his cup tightened, his pulse a frantic rhythm beneath his skin.

Seungkwan shifted beside him. “Oh, this is gonna be good,” he muttered, half under his breath.

“Act normal,” Chan whispered to himself. Or at least he thought so. 

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Vernon mumbled. 

Chan shot him a sharp look, but before he could tell him to shut up, you were there—standing right in front of him, close enough that he caught the faint scent of your perfume, something so sweet and heady that made his head spin.

“Hello, boys,” you greeted them, your voice light but with a touch of something that made his breath catch. 

Trying to play it cool, Chan swallowed hard, his grip tightening on the red cup in his hand as he forced himself to meet your gaze. Up close, you were even more mesmerizing, your eyes alight with something he couldn’t quite place, the corners of your lips curving into the kind of smile that made his stomach flip.

“Hey,” he managed to say collectively with the other two, his voice steadier than he felt.

Beside him, Seungkwan looked like he was barely restraining himself from narrating the entire interaction like he was watching some kind of reality TV show on Netflix—Lee Chan’s Inferno, the live show. 

Your eyes flickered between the three of them briefly before settling back on Chan. 

“Nice party,” you said, flashing them a smile as you nodded towards the crowd of people scattered around their house. “Full house, I’ve been told.”

It was the first party the three of them had organized since the older members graduated, making them the hosts tonight. They hadn’t expected it to be a great success, but judging by the number of people in the house, it seemed they had been wrong.

“Thanks,” The three of them said in unison again and you let out a small laugh, raising your eyebrows in curiosity. 

“Are you guys okay? What are you drinking? I know for a fact Hansol is just as high as the Namsan Tower.” 

He knew you weren't just talking to him, but Chan was pretty sure his soul was leaving his body.

It wasn’t just that you were standing in front of him, looking every bit like you walked straight out of his dream, it was the way you were looking at him. Like you were actually interested in what he had to say, like he wasn’t just another person in this house; and like you weren’t effortlessly stealing the air from his lungs.  

Meanwhile, his brain? Completely fried.

Your laugh—soft, amused, and way too pretty—sent something dangerously warm through his chest. You tilted your head to the side, as if you were analyzing his face. “What’s your name?”

His world seemed to stop for a second. 

Even though the two of you weren’t close—or even friends—he was sure you knew his name. I mean, Vernon was his best friend. You were Vernon’s friend. You knew his name… right?

This was the worst possible scenario. The girl he had a crush on bigger than the entire Asian continent didn't know his name?

Yeah. The ground could open up and swallow him whole right now, and he wouldn’t even fight it.

This couldn’t be happening.

“You don’t know my name?” He didn’t even know he could finish a whole sentence around you, let alone a question, his voice somehow steady despite the absolute horror pooling in his chest. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Seungkwan and Vernon exchanging looks—surprised, amused, and definitely holding back laughter.

“Oh, I know your name, Channie,” Your lips twitched, like you were trying not to laugh. “Just making sure you're still sober enough to remember it.”

Chan felt his face heat up instantly, a mix of relief and embarrassment washing over him all at once, brain barely registering the sweet way you said his name. Seungkwan outright cackled, slapping his knee, while Vernon just shook his head with a knowing smirk.

“Oh,” was all Chan managed to say at first, his brain short-circuiting at the way you looked at him, teasing, confident, completely in control of the situation. “Chan. Lee Chan.”

You tilted your head, clearly enjoying his reaction. “Good.” 

Suddenly, Chan was painfully aware of how close you were. Close enough that he could count the faint shimmer of highlight on your cheekbone, see the way your lashes fluttered when your gaze briefly flickered down to his mouth? No. He had to be imagining that. Maybe he had had a little too much tequila. Maybe it was time to put his cup down, go upstairs and sleep.

He blinked. Then, realized he had been silent for far too long. 

“I—uh—” he started, then immediately hated himself for it. He could already feel the tips of his ears getting hot from how red they possibly were.

“He's fine,” Seungkwan said for him. “We're all fine.”

You just smiled again, that knowing, unreadable smile that sent Chan’s pulse into overdrive. “If you say so.”

Vernon cleared his throat. “So, uh,” he started, clearly trying to fill the silence. “Are you having fun?”

“I just got here, actually,” you said, taking a slow sip from your cup. They already knew that, yet they nodded anyway, as if just finding out. “But everyone else seems to be having a lot of fun.”

The four of you glanced around the packed house, noting also the constant flow of guests coming and going through the front door. Some faces were familiar to Chan, ones he had seen somewhere on campus, while others were completely new. The living room was almost unrecognizable—dismantled, with couches pushed aside to make room for a dance floor. A mini bar had been set up in the corner, where a barman served specialty drinks, and even more booze filled the kitchen for those who wanted specific things. 

Everywhere he looked, people were jumping, grinding, kissing, chatting animatedly, smoking and drinking, while plastic cups littered the floor alongside crushed cigarette butts, joints, and scattered snacks trampled underfoot. Chan was so absorbed in your presence that he didn’t even think about the mess he’d eventually have to clean up after the party was over. 

The air was thick with the scent of alcohol, sweat, and perfume, and honestly, Chan was surprised none of the neighbors had called the police yet. Sure, Sigma Vita Tau’s annual homecoming parties were always packed, but this one was on another level, and he felt very proud of it.

The music thumped steadily, neon lights casting shifting colors over the crowd. Then Seungkwan threw out another question for you, so casually that Chan almost missed his intention. “Did you came alone?”

“Well, I came with Nayoung and Dahyun,” you replied, shrugging. “But I lost them somewhere by coming here to talk to you guys.”

Seungkwan shot Chan a look—one that screamed Don’t mess this up—before turning back to you with a knowing smile. “Ah, so you chose to be here with us instead of running off to find them?”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “I guess I did.”

Chan, who had been determinedly sipping his drink to avoid making a fool of himself, nearly choked. His mind latched onto your words like they meant something far deeper than casual conversation.

Seungkwan smirked. “Makes sense. We're great company.”

You grinned. “Exactly.”

���So your boyfriend’s…” Vernon trailed off.

“Not here.”

The words slipped out of your mouth like a subtle declaration, and just like that, Chan felt the weight of it. Your boyfriend wasn’t here. For some reason, the confirmation made him feel a little lighter, though he knew that was dangerous territory. 

He had no right to feel relieved. You weren’t his, after all.

Seungkwan raised his eyebrows, clearly intrigued. “Really?” He smirked. “No boyfriend? That’s new.”

You shrugged nonchalantly, unfazed by their teasing. “He’s busy with something, I guess.” 

You glanced down briefly, scratching behind your ear before your eyes flicked over to Chan, catching his gaze for a fraction of a second before he quickly looked away, embarrassed by the sudden spike in his heartbeat. 

“Ohhh,” Seungkwan dragged out, exchanging another look with Vernon. “So you’re free to enjoy the night however you want.”

You let out a soft hum, tilting your head slightly as if considering his words. “I suppose so.”

Chan took another sip of his drink, trying to play it cool once again, but his grip was a little too tight around the cup. His mind was running a mile a minute, filled with thoughts he probably shouldn’t be having.

“You seem awfully interested in that drink,” you suddenly pointed to his cup, raising a curious eyebrow and shifting your weight to one leg, one hand resting on your hip. “What are you drinking?”

Chan glanced down at the red cup in his hand like he’d never seen it before. In truth, he had no idea what was in it—he’d grabbed it off the counter earlier when someone shoved it at him, too distracted by your presence to care.

“Uh…” He swirled the liquid inside, as if that would magically tell him what it was. “Something… alcoholic?”

Seungkwan groaned beside him. “Wow. Smooth.”

You chuckled, the corner of your lips quirking up. “That’s very specific, Channie.”

Chan nearly choked. The way you said his name—so casually, so effortlessly—made his brain short-circuit again. 

Everything he wished for—right after you, of course—was that he had scientific explanations for the way his body and brain reacted to your actions and words. And even then, maybe it wouldn’t be enough for him. 

I mean, Chan was a popular guy. A lot of people knew him around the campus, hell, he was a member of one of the most exclusive fraternities at university, was the current best dancer on the program since Minghao had graduated, packing the school theater every time he performed, and he also wasn’t exactly unknown among girls; he wasn’t particularly proud of it, but he had a reputation.

So why was it that, whenever he was around you, he acted like a complete loser?

It was a case to be studied closely and for days, perhaps years.

Seungkwan, probably sensing that Chan was never going to get a full sentence out at this rate, answered for him. “Tequila. Too much tequila. Yeonjun was bullying him a little.”

At the mention of Yeonjun, you hummed in amusement, your lips pressing together like you were holding back a laugh. Then, without warning, you reached forward and plucked the cup from his hands, bringing it to your lips for a sip. You pulled a slight face at the taste, but to Chan’s absolute horror (and delight), you took another small sip before handing the cup back to him.

“Sounds about right,” you mused, wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb. “And how’s that going for you?”

Chan blinked. 

“Oh, you know,” he forced out, voice slightly rougher than intended, “just trying to stay upright.”

It was a miracle. He had managed to form a coherent sentence.

You laughed softly, and Chan felt like he had just been hit with a wave of relief. The sound was like music to his ears. “Well, that’s an important skill to have.”

Seungkwan muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like pathetic, but Chan was too busy trying to figure out if you were just being nice or if there was something more behind your words. 

“So…” you said, drawing out the word as if weighing it in your mind. “You having fun?”

Fun. Right. That was why he was here. “Uh. Yeah. It’s a party, so… yeah.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That convincing, huh?”

Chan cleared his throat, trying to wrest away the heat creeping up his neck. “I mean, yeah. It’s fun.” He nodded a little too enthusiastically, as if trying to convince both of you.

You hummed, unconvinced, tilting your head just slightly. The way your eyes scanned his face sent his brain into overdrive. Was he being obvious? Did you know?

But before he could embarrass himself further, the speakers erupted with the unmistakable intro of Livin’ On A Prayer by Bon Jovi, and the entire room burst into excited screams—just like you, who threw your head back and let out a moan of happiness.

Chan was certain he felt his entire body shiver at the sound, his mind drifting to places it shouldn’t. He was pretty sure he was already halfway to living on a prayer. 

“I love this song,” you said, eyes lighting up as you turned your head to them with a grin so radiant it nearly knocked him off his feet. 

Two seconds later, Dahyun called your name from across the room. “Come dance with us.”

You turned your head slightly, offering her a small nod of acknowledgment before looking back at them.

 “I have to go,” you said, pointing with your thumb over your shoulder at your friend. “See you guys around.”

Chan's heart sank a little at the sudden shift, the moment slipping away faster than he could grasp it. He opened his mouth, almost as if to protest, but the words never made it past his lips. He was still fumbling, unsure of what to say or do in this kind of situation.

But then you gave him one last smile—quick, but enough to leave him breathless—and started to turn away. You took a few steps forward, then stopped, turning around and staring directly at him; not at him, Vernon and Seungkwan—just him. 

“I love your shirt, by the way.”

And just like that, you were gone, moving through the crowd again, leaving him standing there with his heart pounding and his mind reeling, staring in astonishment at the Kurt Cobain shirt he was wearing.

Seungkwan snorted beside him, pulling him out of his daze. “You’re hopeless.”

Chan, still staring after you, muttered, “I know.”

You had disappeared from the party half an hour ago, using the excuse of heading to the bathroom, only to end up on the balcony of one of the few rooms upstairs with an unlocked door.

To be honest, you weren’t really in the mood for a party, but after Nayoung and Dahyun insisted so much on getting you out of your room, despite your repeated insistence that you weren’t affected by the recent events in your life, you eventually agreed to join them at Sigma Vita Tau’s annual homecoming party.

So far, it had been a lot of fun; you’d danced with your friends, played beer pong and pool with people you didn’t even know and a couple of people you did know. But when everyone decided it was time to start a game of seven minutes in heaven, you knew it was time to get away, especially since the only person you wanted to kiss wasn’t in the circle and was clearly avoiding you, as he always did.

That person was currently downstairs, probably laughing at something his friends said, or even kissing someone under the staircase, completely unaware of how much space he took up in your thoughts.

With a sigh, you sat down at the railing, the cool night air a relief against your flushed skin. The music from the party thumped through the walls, muffled but still loud enough to remind you of the chaos inside. You were fine with missing the game, better than sitting there, pretending you wouldn’t feel a pang of jealousy if someone else pulled his name. 

That last one, of course, was a scenario you created in your own head where he decided to show up and play just because the universe hated you that much. 

You weren’t even sure when it had started, this thing. The way your eyes always searched for him in a crowd, the way your heart did that stupid little skip whenever he smiled at you, especially at times when he didn't seem to realize he was smiling. Maybe it had always been there, waiting for the right moment to make itself known and now was the perfect opportunity for it, considering all circumstances. 

Lost in your thoughts, you barely noticed the door creak open behind you until the warmth of another presence filled the space.

“I was wondering where you disappeared to.”

It was almost two in the morning when Chan decided he’d had enough of the party. You had already disappeared minutes ago to God knows where, and even though your friends were still downstairs playing seven minutes in heaven, he was pretty sure you’d gone home. Your boyfriend had probably come by to pick you up at some point, like he always did, and Chan miraculously hadn't noticed.

All night long, he had watched you from afar, dancing and playing games with his friends. You were laughing with Vernon, teasing Seungkwan, and even giving Yeonjun a hard time. You looked completely at ease, like you belonged there somehow. But every time his gaze lingered on you, he felt that familiar twist in his stomach. It wasn’t jealousy, exactly, but the kind of longing that made his chest tighten. You were surrounded by his friends, sure, but in his mind, you were still just very much... out of reach.

Now, he was exhausted, tired of feeling like a failure for not having the courage to approach you, even just to start a conversation. He hadn’t taken Vernon’s advice, hadn’t shown you how much better he could be than your boyfriend. So, instead of dwelling on it any longer, he simply said goodbye to everyone and headed up to his room.

After cursing himself for forgetting to lock the door, Chan headed inside, silently thanking the universe that no one was there. Everything was in place, neat and undisturbed, clearly showing it hadn’t been used as a place for a couple to make out, or worse. After finally locking the door behind him, he sat on the edge of the bed, calmly taking off his shoes as he recapped the night in his head. 

He sighed, lying back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Seungkwan was right; this was getting pathetic, really. He had talked to people all night, joked around, even had a decent time despite the chaos. But when it came to you, his heart always raced in a way that made him second-guess every move. 

He was such a big fool. 

A fool for you, apparently. 

For a brief moment, Chan watched as the long curtains that divided the room from the balcony swayed in the wind, revealing a figure sitting on the railing.

His heart skipped a beat as his eyes landed on the figure. The silhouette was unmistakable, even in the dim light—your figure, perched on the balcony railing, legs dangling, one hand resting on your knee. He wasn’t sure how long you’d been there, but the sight of you, calm and seemingly lost in thought, made him hesitate. Again. 

The cool night air swept in, ruffling the curtains and causing them to dance with the wind again, almost as if they were beckoning him. For a brief moment, Chan considered staying put, convincing himself that you probably just needed some space, some quiet time away from the party. But then the thought of you sitting out there alone made his chest tighten, as if the universe was giving him a second chance to do things right, and before he could talk himself out of it, he was standing up and crossing the room.

He reached the balcony door quietly, not wanting to startle you. The cool breeze hit his face as he stepped outside, the sound of music and laughter from the party downstairs still faintly echoing in the distance. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves, but it was hard when you were so close.

You looked like an angel sitting there, and his brain nearly short-circuited when he noticed you were wearing the hoodie he had left on the chair earlier that day.

Chan never liked people invading his space, especially his room, and even less so when they were uninvited. If it had been anyone else, he probably would have kicked them out on the spot. But it was you. Not only did it not bother him, but he found himself loving the sight of you in his clothes, as if the hoodie had been made for you to wear too.

“I was wondering where you disappeared to.”

You turned your head at the sound of his voice, blinking in surprise at his appearance.

“Chan?” You said his name like you couldn’t quite believe it, like maybe you were the one dreaming and not him. He smiled.

“Hey,” he managed to say, his voice gentle, words just loud enough to be heard over the distant music. “You okay there?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, offering a small smile, grateful for the concern in his eyes. “Just needed a break. Parties aren’t really my thing.”

Chan hesitated for a moment before leaning against the railing next to you, his posture a little stiff but his presence somehow calming. “I get it,” he said quietly, his gaze shifting down to the street below. “I kind of feel the same way sometimes. All the noise, all the people, it’s a lot.”

You chuckled softly, turning slightly toward him. “You? A dancer major?”

He really wanted to use this opportunity with you to make a good impression and follow his friends' advice. But when he looked at you again, his brain went into a tailspin trying to process the way his hoodie looked on you, like it belonged to you just as much as it did to him. 

Still, he forced himself to get the words out.

“Yeah, well… dancing is different,” he admitted, glancing at you with a small, almost sheepish smile. “It’s loud, sure, but it makes sense. It’s the kind of noise I can control.”

You hummed in understanding, swinging your legs slightly. “And parties?”

“Not so much.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, the distant music from the party below blending with the rustling of the trees. The longer Chan stood beside you, the more his nerves settled, though that didn’t stop his heart from hammering in his chest. He had spent so long watching you from a distance, convinced that any moment spent too close would give him away. And yet, here you were, in his hoodie, in his bedroom’s balcony. 

Chan opened his mouth, but nothing came out, as usual. He was already surprised that he had managed to form other sentences before, since his brain was still trying to catch up with everything that's happening. 

You were standing in his bedroom—his bedroom—at two in the morning.

He couldn’t help but wonder if you had any idea what you did to him with just a small action.

You shifted a bit, looking at him out of the corner of your eye, the cool breeze tugging at your hair while you analyzed his well-defined profile.

You’d known the SVT boys for a while now, and they always carried this… chaotic energy, like one was constantly balancing and matching out the other’s freaks without the slightest trace of embarrassment or shame. That, in fact, was the reason why you liked being around them so much; they were different from the guys in the other fraternities at this university. Not to mention their parties were the best on campus and probably the most female-friendly and safe.

Every now and then, you found yourself in the company of one of them. Whether it was Vernon, who was already your friend and classmate, or Joshua, who once served as the english literature tutor for your study group back in freshman year, or even Seungkwan, in the one ancient studies class you share this semester.

Sometimes, it seemed like they were everywhere on campus, as if, whenever you needed one, they would magically appear—like when Abby blew out a candle in that Disney Channel movie 16 Wishes, except in this case, there were only 13. 

Lee Chan, however, was the member you hardly ever heard the voice of. You just couldn’t tell if he was always like that or if the problem was you, specifically. 

“You don’t talk much, do you?” you asked, your tone light, trying to keep the mood casual, though there was an underlying curiosity in your voice.

Chan chuckled at your question, running a hand through his hair, a little embarrassed but still amused by it. He forced himself to say something, anything, before he made even more of a fool of himself. “I—uh. No, I mean, I do. Sometimes. I talk.”

Brilliant. Just brilliant. 

For someone who was usually a yapper, he had become an expert at being at a loss for words around you. Before this moment, he hoped you wouldn't notice, but your question showed him that was clearly not the case.

Your lips twitched, like you were trying not to laugh. But it wasn’t in a cruel way, not like you were laughing at him. “That’s good to know,” you replied, nodding like you were filing the information away for later.

He couldn’t help but smile, feeling a bit more at ease despite the awkwardness that lingered. You weren’t making him feel self-conscious about his words, just... making him feel seen by you in a way that made his chest tighten, because that never happened before. 

“I promise I can carry a conversation most of the time,” he added, his voice lighter this time, trying to steer the awkwardness away. “Just... not always the best at small talk.” 

He gave a shrug, hoping you would take it as more of a self-aware joke than anything else.

You raised an eyebrow at him, teasing. “Small talk is overrated anyway. It’s the big stuff that matters.”

Chan tilted his head slightly, studying your expression. 

“What kind of big stuff are we talking about here?” He was trying to sound nonchalant, but inside, he was celebrating wildly; not just because he was managing to talk to you, but because you were talking to him too.

Perched on the railing, you shifted slightly to face him fully, your hands gripping the edge as you met his gaze. 

“Like... real conversations. The kind where you actually get to know someone,” you said, your voice softer now, almost a little serious. 

Suddenly, Chan felt like the air between you two shifted, and he couldn’t decide whether it was the wind or something else making him feel more aware of every movement you made and every word you said. 

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice steady despite the rush of thoughts flooding his mind. “I guess... I guess you're right.”

You smiled, pleased with his answer, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. From where you stood, the cheers of the crowd downstairs faded into the background with each new pair being chosen, distant enough to feel like you’re both in another world entirely. 

Up here, it was just you and him, standing at the edge of something that Chan didn’t even know what. 

He shifted slightly, his fingers grazing the concrete railing as he debated whether he should say more, whether he should push this moment just a little further or not, since you seemed to be enjoying your own company until a few minutes ago, even if it was in his room.

The only thing he didn’t want to do was let it slip away.

Instead, he asked the question that had been circling in his mind since the moment he spotted you through the curtains. “So, uh… how did you find my room?”

Chan watched as you froze, your eyes slowly widening while your brain processed his question. Your gaze followed his, and the moment you registered what you were wearing, a soft laugh escaped your lips—one that sent his pulse into overdrive. 

“Oh, shit,” you said, blinking, voice showing your very obvious surprise. 

You seemed to realize the absurdity of the situation at the exact same moment the words slipped past your lips, your gaze flickering between him and the hoodie. 

“Wait, no—” you started, clearly flustered. “I wasn’t snooping or anything, I swear.” Your hands gripped the hem of the hoodie as if it might disappear if you didn’t hold onto it. “I—I didn’t know this was your room. I promise I wasn’t—I mean, I just—”

“You just… what?” he managed to ask, still amazed that you were standing in front of him, in his hoodie—did he stress this enough?—after a night of him avoiding you because he was convinced he had lost every chance he had after your interaction earlier. 

You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck. There was no way this could be less embarrassing. “I was looking for a quiet place to hide from the whole seven minutes in heaven thing. Found an unlocked door, thought it was an empty guest room, and, uh… turns out, it wasn’t.”

Chan stared at you, his heartbeat loud in his ears. “And the hoodie?”

A sheepish smile tugged at your lips. “It was on the chair. It was cold. Thought it looked comfy.”

It was comfy. But that wasn’t the point.

He swallowed, trying not to let the warmth spreading through his chest take over. This—you—was the last thing he expected tonight. And yet, here you were, standing in his room at two in the morning, looking impossibly good in his clothes. Maybe the universe was on his side after all.

You were still seated there, looking at him like you weren’t sure if you should stay or go. And maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe it was the way you were looking at him, but for the first time all night, Chan didn’t feel like running away.

Instead, he exhaled, leaning back as he met your gaze. “Well,” he said, forcing a small smirk. “Guess it looks better on you anyway.”

He had no idea where this sudden courage was coming from. Maybe it was the alcohol still lingering in his system, even though hours had passed since his last drink. Whatever it was, he was just glad he had found the nerve to flirt with you. Even if just a little bit.

Your lips twitched, and for a second, he thought you might say something. But then you just shook your head, voice quieter now. “I’m sorry for invading your space. Do you want me to leave?”

Chan swallowed hard. He knew what the right answer was. Knew what Vernon and Seungkwan would tell him to do. Knew that you still had a boyfriend. But with you standing there, wearing his hoodie, looking at him like that…

Yeah. He was completely screwed.

“No, stay,” he said, a little too eagerly. Then, realizing how desperate he must’ve sounded, he cleared his throat, trying to play it cool. “I mean… if you want to.”

You tilted your head, watching him in that way that made his stomach flip. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” Chan let out a breathless laugh, running a hand through his hair. Still, he wanted to make sure. “Unless you want to go back?”

You glanced toward the door, as if weighing your options, before exhaling a small laugh. “Not really.”

Chan tried not to read too much into it. He tried not to let the fact that you were still standing there, apparently in no rush to leave, get to his head. “Then stay,” he said again, softer this time.

“Okay,” you said after a beat. Then, with a teasing smile, you added, “But only if I get to keep the hoodie.”

Chan huffed a laugh, shaking his head as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Fine. You can keep it.”

You grinned. “Thanks.”

“I mean… I might have to fight you for it later.”

“Oh, I’d win,” you shot back without hesitation, a smug little smirk playing at your lips.

And god, Chan believed you. Because you would only need to say the words and that hoodie would be yours forever.

There was a comfortable silence between you after that, the weight of the night settling in. The distant cheers from downstairs had died down a little, and the music had shifted to something slower, more subdued. It felt like the whole world had softened around the edges. 

You tilted your head slightly, as if studying him, and Chan felt his pulse quicken again. He didn’t know what it was about you that made him so nervous. Maybe it was the way you carried yourself or the way your eyes were holding an amused curiosity whenever you looked at him. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the way he wanted you to look at him the way you looked at your boyfriend.

At the thought of him, Chan’s expression faltered slightly, and he turned away, gripping the railing a little tighter than necessary. He had no right to feel the way he did, no right to want things he couldn’t have. But he was here now, alone with you in the quiet of the night, and for just a moment, he allowed himself to imagine that things were different.

Chan turned to you again, watching as you stared out at the horizon now. He didn’t know what he was expecting when he spoke next, but the words left his mouth before he could stop them.

“So where's your boyfriend?”

If you were surprised by the question, you didn’t let it show. He saw you lowering your head and letting out a not very happy laugh through your nose. 

The truth was, you were surprised by his question, but at the same time, you weren’t. Jongin wasn’t exactly known for being non-territorial; he was always where you were, and when he couldn’t be, he made sure to show up at some point. But the way Chan’s question slipped out so easily, so curious, paralyzed all your instincts—the ones that told you to take it slow, to breathe between the end of your relationship with Jongin and the leap you were considering to take when you agreed to come here tonight.

And then, the confession slipped out of your lips before your brain could stop it. “He's...not my boyfriend anymore.”

Chan’s eyes widened slightly at your words. His stomach churned with an uncomfortable mix of relief and confusion, and he blinked a few times, processing your words. 

Would he go to hell for feeling immensely happy with that confession you had just made? Probably. And he would slow dance with the devil, grinning from ear to ear nonetheless.

“Not your boyfriend anymore?” He repeated after you. “Why not?”

You shrugged, a casual motion that didn’t match the weight of your words, finally looking up to meet his gaze again. “Didn't want to be.”

That was only half true, and you knew it. It wasn’t like you wanted to be his girlfriend either. But still, you weren’t the one who ended things by cheating on him with your step sister. You’d probably still be with him if he hadn’t decided to put an end to it in the worst way possible, even if your heart was beating for someone completely different already. 

Was it weird that you felt relieved to be cheated on, because it finally gave you a reason to leave?

“He’s an idiot then.” Chan spoke, bringing you out of your thoughts. When you looked at him, his eyes were filled with genuine empathy. You smiled gratefully, appreciating his compassion.

Not wanting to weigh the moment, you let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, well, that makes two of us.”

Chan frowned slightly. “I doubt it,” he said, before adding, “But why?”

You shrugged again. “It wasn’t like I was dying to stay in that relationship, you know.”

The way you said it, almost too calmly, threw him off. I mean, he knew you weren’t very happy in your relationship; it was evident in your body language around Jongin. But he didn’t expect it to go as far as you wishing you weren’t actually in it. 

He wanted to ask more, to understand what had happened, but a part of him feared that prying would make him sound even more pathetic. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from pressing on, his voice low and a little uncertain. “Wait, so you didn’t want to be with him either?”

You didn’t hesitate, your expression not betraying any emotion, but your voice was sharp when you replied. “Not really. I didn’t even like him in the end. I guess I just stayed longer than I should have because it was… comfortable.” 

“That doesn’t sound like a great reason to stay.”

Chan bit his lip, trying to digest your words. Part of him wanted to reach out, to comfort you somehow, but he didn’t know where to start. The realization that you were no longer with him, the guy who seemed to have always been in the picture, stirred something in him—a sense of hope he wasn’t prepared to feel. But he kept it buried, not wanting to come off too eager, too quick to assume.

“It wasn’t,” you admitted. “But it’s hard to walk away from something when you don’t have a reason big enough to leave.”

“And what finally made you leave? I mean, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“You’re funny.” You smiled, head tilted to the side as you locked gazes with him. “I’ve never really got to actually talk to you before. Yet, here we are,” you gestured to the space between you with your hands. “I like this side of you. Curious and talkative Channie”

“Yeah?”

Chan swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry, even if he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. He was happy that being alone with you had finally awakened that side of him: more talkative and more responsive. 

You nodded, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, I do.” Then you sighed, before saying, “To answer your question: he cheated on me with my step sister.”

His eyes widened and suddenly he was back to not knowing what to say, so he stayed quiet for a moment. Chan’s brain raced, his heart pounding. Was it bad that the idea of you being available—of there being a chance for something, whatever it might be—be the only thing that appeared in flashing neon signs in his head? 

Either way, he was glad you had gotten out of a relationship that clearly wasn’t good for you. He was happy that you had gotten rid of the asshole who was known for only dating girls ten years younger than him—the asshole who never let you breathe.

“Why did you date him anyway? Guy’s a jerk,” The words escaped his mouth before he could even control them. 

“He gave me just the right amount of attention, at the right time,” you answered without hesitation, shrugging again. “Have you ever heard ‘We accept the love we think we deserve’?” 

Chan frowned, processing your words. Well, that was sad. 

“I’ve heard of it,” he said quietly, the weight of your response settling in the space between you. The way you spoke about it, almost like you were talking about a lesson learned the hard way, made him feel a pang of sympathy for you.

“Yeah,” you continued, voice soft but steady, eyes searching his face. “I didn't realize I deserved more until the moment I woke up from the trance I’d been stuck in for two years.”

Listening to you confess to him all of this without thinking twice and sounding so sincere, made his stomach twisted with something like a mixture of frustration and admiration. He could see how hard it must’ve been for you, but at the same time, something in him wanted to protect you, to offer the kind of attention and care that wasn’t half-hearted, something real and full of understanding.

Something you truly deserved.

“You do deserve more,” he finally said, voice quiet but firm. “Everyone does. And if you want it, you can have it. No one should make you feel like you don’t.”

He hoped you understood the undertone of his words. Though he was genuine in what he said, he wanted to be everything you deserved—the more you could and should have. God knew how much he wanted it, and how far he would go to show you that. But in that moment, he also wanted to offer words of comfort, to be the shoulder you might need.

You didn’t say anything for a while, just standing there, letting the noise of the party hum around you both. Finally, you exhaled. 

“It’s hard to let go of what you’ve known, even when it’s not good for you,” you admitted, almost like you were talking to yourself more than him. “But sometimes, I guess you need to make space for something better, even if it’s scary.”

Chan’s heart beats faster at your words. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but he knew one thing: this conversation, this moment between you, felt different than anything he had experienced with you before. It felt real.

“Do you think…” he started, and then stopped, unsure of what to ask. He was afraid that anything he said might ruin the moment. But your expression softened in a way that made his heart skip another beat.

“Maybe,” you said, voice low but deliberate, eyes never leaving his. “Maybe I need to stop accepting what I think I deserve and start going after what I actually deserve.”

Chan swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. The air between you felt charged now, heavier than it should have been. He felt like he was standing on the edge of something, something he was not afraid to jump into and also couldn’t stop himself from wanting, hoping you wished the same, even if he was too crazy or delusional to consider that possibility. 

Just as he was about to say something, he suddenly felt light raindrops hitting the spot where the two of you were standing and sitting on the balcony. The first few drops were light, barely noticeable against his skin, but within seconds, the drizzle grew heavier, the scent of rain taking over the air. 

Chan watched you look up, your eyes tracing the sky as it darkened, the city below shimmering through the mist. When you turned back to him, he was staring at you—not at the rain, not at the sky, but at you. You met his gaze, and for a split second, everything else faded; the sound of the rain, the distant hum of the city below, even the pounding of his own heart. 

He blinked, breaking the spell, his gaze flickering toward the rain before it returned to you. “Maybe we should go inside,” he suggested, his voice low, almost hesitant, like he was giving you an escape from the moment, if you needed it.

You nodded slowly, and without saying a word, you jumped off the balcony railing, following him inside. You looked around the dark room for a second, before saying, “Maybe I should go. I don't want to hold the party host down with me.”

Chan turned to face you, his expression softening as he took in your words. There was something about the way you spoke, the hesitation that lingered in your voice, that made him want to step closer, to reassure you that you weren’t an inconvenience, that he wanted you there more than anything. 

“You’re not holding anyone down,” he said, a small, almost shy smile tugging at his lips. “If anything, it’s me who should be worried about keeping you from having fun.” 

“Never,” you said, your voice light, but there was something else in it, something he couldn’t quite put a finger on. Especially when you said, “Besides, the person I wanted to kiss isn't even downstairs.”

Chan froze, his heart giving a sharp, involuntary lurch at your words. He blinked, not quite sure if he had heard you correctly, but the way your gaze held his, steady and unflinching, told him that he hadn’t misheard.

He cleared his throat, his voice coming out a little too thick for his liking. “Oh? And, uh… who exactly were you hoping to kiss, if not...?” He trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence, not sure if he even wanted to know the answer.

As the curtain moved in the wind, bringing the streetlight into the room, he saw a mischievous smile grow on your lips. 

What the hell was happening? Was his brain betraying him? Was he imagining this moment? Had he passed out on the bed when he went upstairs and was now in a dream, after spending ninety percent of his energy thinking about you at the party he should have been enjoying with his friends? 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you said simply, and turned your back to him, eyes immediately darting to the shelf of his trophies from dance competitions and photographs. 

Yes, I do! I want to know! Chan wanted to shout.

Instead, he stood there for a moment, unsure whether to follow up with another question, or to let the silence stretch on. The way you spoke, so casually and yet with that playful glint in your eye, made everything feel… electric. 

So he simply watched you there, in his room, moving without hesitation, slowly walking over to his shelf, running your finger along the wood and observing each one of his trophies, medals and pictures with meticulous care. 

He couldn't help but think—and wish too—that he could get used to this scene.

The golden plaques gleamed under the dim light, each one marking a victory of his. Some were polished to perfection, while others bore the faintest scratches, proof of the years Chan had spent chasing dreams in the dance field. Your gaze drifted to the framed photographs beside them, each snapshot telling a different story of his life. 

There were several photos of him as a little kid, beaming as ever, dressed in performance clothes, on stage, with a medal around his neck. In another, he stood beside his previous performance unit with the frat’s past members, whom you recognized as Kwon Soonyoung, Wen Junhui, and Xu Minghao, their grins wide and carefree. There were also photos with his parents and grandmother, and some with what looked like his younger brother.

Chan was probably the cutest kid you had ever seen, and that realization made you smile genuinely. 

“Lee Jung Chan?” you asked, curious as you read the name on one of the trophies from a children's dance competition. Your fingers brushed over the small golden plaque, the engraving slightly worn from time. 

Behind you, he let out a soft chuckle. “It's my name on my family tree. The government name is just Lee Chan.”

“You went by your full name back then?”

He shrugged, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Only because my mom insisted. She said it sounded more professional, like I was already a star or something.”

“It's cute,” you said, looking at him over your shoulder. “You were so cute.”

“Yes, well, the kids used to call me Jimmy Neutron.”

You laughed, turning fully to face him. Neither of you had noticed how close you were until you did. If you reached out your arms, you'd only be able to touch each other slightly. But even though both of you thought about it, neither of you made any move to change your positions, continuing your conversation. 

“What? Jimmy Neutron?”

He groaned, running a hand through his hair as if reliving the embarrassment. “Yeah. They said my head was too big for my body. And, you know, the spiky hair didn't help.”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress another laugh. Chan holded his breath at your movement, forcing himself to look elsewhere, forcing himself not to think about your lips. 

“I can totally see it now,” you teased, releasing your lip from your teeth and looking between him and the photo on the shelf.

He narrowed his eyes at you playfully. “Wow, okay. I thought you were supposed to be on my side.”

“I am!” You held up your hands in defense. “I just think it's adorable. And look at you now. You certainly grew into it perfectly.”

Chan smirked, tilting his head and crossing his arms. “So you're saying I look perfect now?”

You rolled your eyes, turning back to the trophies. “Don't get ahead of yourself, Jimmy Neutron.”

He laughed, stepping up beside you as his eyes skimmed over the shelf briefly, before turning back to you. “Yeah, but I kinda see it. My head was huge.”

You tilted your head, studying one of the photos of him mid-dance, his tiny frame caught in motion. He’s wearing dark sunglasses and black fingerless gloves, hair is slightly messy and spiky, adding to the fun and carefree to his edgy look. His bright smile revealed a gap between his teeth, and you thought to yourself that you've probably never seen anything so lovely before.

“Well, I think you were adorable,” you murmured, your finger tracing the edge of the frame. “And talented, obviously. All these trophies…”

He shrugged, a little bashful. “My grandmother was really proud of them. She used to polish them every weekend.”

Your smile softened. “She sounds sweet.”

“She is,” he said, voice tinged with fondness. “She used to call me ‘our little star.’”

Something about the way he said it made warmth bloom in your chest. You turned toward him, and he was looking at you again, his expression unreadable but intense. The soft glow of the streetlights made his features sharper, casting shadows along his well-defined jawline.

If there was one thing you knew about Lee Chan, it was that he was a star. Every performance he was part of filled the university theater, without failure. Not to mention the countless admirers he had on campus, and with good reason.

Watching him do what he loved was a pleasure—he was that good. Confident and unwavering, he dominated the stage effortlessly, as if wrapped in a bubble no one could pierce. It was mesmerizing to witness.

“You still are, you know,” you said, voice quieter now. “A star.”

His lips parted slightly, but for a moment, he didn't say anything. Just studied you like he was trying to figure something out.

And then, with a small, almost shy smile, he said, “I like it better when you call me cute.”

You laughed, the sudden tension between you easing just a little. “Noted.”

He exhaled a soft chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck as he leaned against the desk beside the shelf. “You know, I don’t usually let people snoop around my room like this.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder again, your fingers still lightly tracing over the edge of a picture framed. “Oh? Am I special, Channie?”

You didn't have to say his name like that, or move your lips like that. His eyes traveled to your mouth for a moment, and for a second, something flickered in his expression, something unspoken, but not entirely hidden. 

His eyes met yours as he said, “Yeah,” he murmured. “You are.”

To mask the fact that your breath hitched slightly, you offered him a playful smirk. “Good to know.”

As Chan moved to sit on the edge of his bed, you continued your exploration of his shelf, eyes stopping at a picture frame in the middle where he standed between what seemed to be his parents, both of them kissing his cheek sweetly. 

“Is your father a dancer too?” you asked, running your fingers over his face on the picture. 

“Yeah. My dad and my mom,” he explained. “They kind of stopped after I was born.”

“Wow. It’s in your blood, then.”

Chan nodded, a smile playing on his lips. “Yeah. My dad always says I got his footwork, but my mom says I got her rhythm.”

You leaned against the table by the shelf, watching him as he spoke. “So they gave it up for you?” 

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. My dad started teaching instead, and my mom focused on raising me. They never made me feel like I took anything away from them, though.”

“That’s love.”

He looked at you then, his gaze steady. “Yeah, it is.”

Another comfortable silence settled between you as you turned back to the photos, your fingers absently tracing the edges of the other frames. One photo in particular caught your eye. It was from the exact same day you first noticed him, during the university’s annual arts week in your sophomore year.

He was dressed in a white button-down shirt with the top two buttons undone, black dress pants, and his hair dyed a faded dark blue. You knew he had worn a tie too because he had taken it off during the performance.

Out of the four members in the unit, he immediately stood out to you. You couldn’t quite put your finger on why, but it was as if no one else existed on that stage besides him. Your eyes were locked on him and no one else, watching in awe as he moved across the stage, completely captivated.

“I was there that day, you know?” you said, showing him over the shoulder the photo you were referring to. 

Chan’s eyes widened as he stared at it. It was one of the images from his first big performance at the university’s annual arts week back in his freshman year, a moment that had felt like a turning point for him, when everything had clicked. He hadn’t realized anyone had been paying attention back then, least of all you.

“You were?” His voice held a note of surprise. There was something so disarming about the way you were looking at the photo—and then at him.

You turned your head slightly, meeting his gaze before turning back. “Yeah. I was in the back, by the side stage,” you admitted, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You were… mesmerizing.” 

He felt a warmth spread through him at your words, the kind of warmth that made his chest tighten. Chan hadn’t expected to hear something like that, especially not from you. 

“Really?” He couldn’t hide the shock in his voice. His brows lifted slightly, as if he was trying to picture it. “How come I didn't see you?”

“I don’t think you noticed anyone that night,” you teased. “You were in your own world up there.”

He hummed, eyes flickering back to the photo. “Maybe,” he mused, then glanced at you again, a slow smile crept onto his lips. “So, you’ve been watching me all this time, noona?”

There was a teasing edge to his voice and you exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “I wouldn’t put it like that.”

“No?” He titled his head. “Then how would you put it?”

He saw you hesitate for a second, fingers still resting on the shelf. Then, meeting his eyes, you admitted, “I noticed you. That night, and every time after that.”

Chan felt his breath catch in his throat.

There was something about the way you said it—so simple, so honest—that made his heart stutter. You noticed him. Not just that night, but every time after. 

He had spent years analyzing every interaction you two had ever had—every glance, every small word, every time you did so much as acknowledged his existence. And now? Now you were standing here, saying things that made his heart race like it was the easiest thing to do. 

How did you end up here?

Chan felt lightheaded.

He wasn’t sure what to say. It wasn’t rare for him to be speechless around you, so there he was again, standing in front of you, feeling like the floor beneath him wasn’t quite solid anymore.

“You noticed me,” he echoed, more to himself than to you.

You nodded, your fingers lightly tracing the edge of the photo before you finally pulled your hand away. “Yeah,” you murmured, laughing softly. “I did, Channie.”

Chan swallowed. He wanted to ask why. What was it about him that had caught your attention? Was it his performance? His presence? Something else entirely different? 

But instead, he found himself saying, “I wish I’d noticed you in the crowd.”

Your lips parted slightly, but instead of speaking, you simply smiled, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

His fingers twitched at his sides. God, he wished he could go back in time to that night—to scan every face in the crowd, to find you standing by the side stage, watching him with that same look you had now. You weren’t even dating Jongin at the time, and if your words were any indication of what he was imagining, maybe he had missed an opportunity by acting as though you were unattainable. Maybe he had lost precious time. 

Chan watched as moved away from the shelf, turning to him entirely. His breath hitched slightly as you stepped closer, each movement deliberate, unhurried. You didn’t hesitate as you sank down beside him on the bed, the space between you shrinking just enough to make his pulse quicken. 

The room suddenly felt smaller, quieter, like the world outside had dulled, leaving only the two of you in this charged silence.

He forced himself to breathe, to act natural, even as every fiber of his being buzzed with awareness of your presence beside him. You were close enough that he could catch the faintest trace of the sweetness of your perfume again, something that made his head spin in the best way.

“Can I ask you something?” You sank your hands on the mattress and stared at the wall in front of you, like you were avoiding his gaze for some reason. 

“Mhmm.”

You wet your lips, hesitating for a moment before finally voicing the thought that had lingered in your mind all night. “Were you avoiding me tonight?”

Chan felt his heart slam against his ribs. “I wasn’t—” he started, then stopped himself because, well… yeah, he had been avoiding you. But only because every time he looked at you, he felt like his brain melted, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to not make a fool of himself.

You smirked, clearly amused by his silence. “That’s what I thought.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “I wasn’t avoiding you, I just—” He hesitated, his eyes flickering over to you. Halfway through, Chan decided that it was no longer the time to second guess things, so he simply admitted, “You make me very nervous, noona.”

You wished you had an explanation for the way you shivered slightly when he called you noona. But instead, you chose to ignore the feeling, letting the sensation fade into something softer, something more curious. “I make you nervous?” you echoed, tilting your head slightly. “That’s a first.”

Chan huffed a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “You say that like it’s impossible. I bet–I know I’m not the only one.”

You shrugged. “I don’t know… you’ve always seemed so confident. Especially on stage.”

“That is just an act,” he admitted. “On stage, I could pretend to be someone else for a little while. But you?” He turned to you then, meeting your gaze fully. “You’re real. You’re right here.”

And he still couldn’t believe it, the words leaving his lips as if he were pinching himself to prove that this was really happening and not just a fever dream.

Hearing him, you wondered what Chan would think if he knew the way your stomach flipped at the way he was looking at you, like you were something impossible and undeniable all at once. You hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected him to say something so… vulnerable. Something that made your heart race so fast with all the implications of his words. 

“I didn’t mean to make you nervous, Channie” you said, your voice softer now, more careful.

“I don’t think you can help it,” Chan murmured, letting out a breathless chuckle. “You know, you probably didn’t know this, but I had a, um… a crush on you.”

Okay, he knew he was straying from the truth. But there was a limit to his courage, and even though he had sensed a bit of flirting between you, he wasn’t about to risk rejection after the nice conversation you’d had tonight, because maybe he was just imagining things. 

And he wanted you to walk away from here at least as friends rather than leave an awkward situation for the two of you. He’d rather have you like this than not have you at all. That was why he decided to test the waters with that small lie.

Your lips parted slightly at his confession, your mind racing to process what he had just admitted. “You… had a crush on me?” you repeated, almost like you were trying to make sure you'd heard him right.

Chan nodded, his expression somewhere between amused and nervous. “Yeah. A major one,” he said, his voice lighter, trying to sound nonchalant.

Something inside you fluttered at the thought. You hadn't expected this at all—not from him, not tonight. And definitely not in this way.

“You’re bullshiting me, aren’t you?” you accused, narrowing your eyes playfully.

He let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. “Nope. Dead serious.”

“But you never said anything,” you pointed out.

“Didn’t think you’d be interested,” He shrugged. Then he nudged you with his elbow, playfully. “Plus you had a boyfriend.” 

You blinked at him, momentarily stunned into silence. 

Didn’t think you’d be interested?

It was absurd to hear those words coming from him, the same person who had commanded every room he walked into without even trying, the same person who had owned the stage so effortlessly that you couldn’t take your eyes off him. 

What would he say if you opened your mouth to confess that you’d realized you weren’t happy in your old relationship the moment you started noticing him everywhere? Noticing his smile, the way he blushed when you talked to him, the way he seemed so unreachable, like he wasn’t the least bit interested in getting to know you, always running away when you were around. 

Maybe that should’ve been your first clue that he had a crush on you too. But perhaps you were too caught up in your own melancholia to notice.

So, instead of spilling out, you decided to test something. It was now or never.

“Is it just in the past?” 

Chan’s brows lifted slightly, caught off guard by your question. “What?”

“Your crush.”

“Uhh..”

“Because it would be so sad if it was,” you said before you could stop yourself, eyes searching for his. 

His voice was softer when he spoke again. “Really?”

You let out a quiet breath, shaking your head with a small smile. “Mhmm.”

He swallowed hard, his brain short-circuiting again at your response. Of all the ways this conversation could have gone, this was not what he had expected. Maybe he was in a dream. A very lived one, but still, a dream.

“You—” He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling like he had forgotten how to speak. “You think it would be sad?”

You hummed, tilting your head slightly. “Yeah. I think it would be a shame if something like that just… faded away.”

Chan's heart was doing something ridiculous in his chest, and he wasn't sure if it was panic or hope or a chaotic mix of both. He should say something. He should joke about it, keep it light, make sure this moment didn’t carry more weight than it should. But he couldn’t—because the way you were looking at him right now felt dangerous in the best way.

“Would it?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

Your smile again, nodding. 

He let out a breathless laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “You really know how to mess with a guy’s head, huh?”

“Maybe,” You grinned, leaning in just a little. “But only when it’s fun. Besides who says you’re not messing with mine too?”

“I am?”

“Yes.”

You didn't say anything else and Chan stared at you for a long moment, his mind racing with a million things he wanted to say, a million things he wanted to do. But instead, he smiled, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you were real. That this moment was real. 

He was messing with your head? Well, that’s a first. 

“Noted,” he simply murmured.

“What about now?” You looked at him expectantly, not letting silence settle between you.

Chan inhaled sharply, his fingers twitching slightly at his sides. “Now?” he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper. You nodded once more. Chan’s smirk faltered for just a fraction of a second before he recovered. “Are you asking if I still have a crush on you, noona?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to mask the way your heart had started hammering. “Forget it,” you muttered, getting up from the bed. 

He reached out, closing his hand around your wrist, and gently pulled you back to sit on the bed again. For a second, it felt like the world had stopped moving. It all faded into nothing. It was just you and him, standing there in this charged, uncertain space that he used to call his bedroom.

Chan swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. His instinct was to deflect, to joke, to brush it off like it was nothing. To play nonchalant. But the way you were looking at him—with quiet anticipation, with something that felt dangerously like hope—made it impossible to lie.

And before you could escape the moment, Chan leaned in ever so slightly, just enough that you felt the warmth of him beside you. “For the record,” he started, voice lower now, just for you. “Some things don’t change that easily.”

You turned to look at him, and for the first time that night, you weren’t sure who was more nervous: you or him. You held his gaze for a long moment, your expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a small smile curled at the corners of your lips.

“Good.” 

Chan blinked. You were going to give him a whiplash. “Good?”

You nodded, shifting just a little closer, the space between you growing impossibly small. “Like I said: it would be really sad if it had faded away.”

A few seconds passed, he just stared at you, his heart pounding, his pulse roaring in his ears. He could barely think, could barely breathe.

“Are you messing with me?” he asked, a nervous chuckle slipping out.

You tilted your head, eyes glinting with something warm, something teasing. “What do you think?”

“I think,” he said slowly, “you’re trouble.”

You grinned. “Only when it's fun, remember?”

“Noted,” he replied again, huffing a quiet laugh and shaking his head. But this time, there was something different in his voice, something lighter, something hopeful. 

You bit your lip for a second, analyzing him carefully. For the first time, Chan didn’t feel intimidated by your gaze. He didn’t feel exposed. Quite the opposite, his skin felt like it was on fire, but for a very good reason.

Your eyes flickered down to his lips for a fraction of a second. If he hadn’t been watching you so closely, he would’ve missed it.

His heart slammed against his ribs.

You were too close. Or maybe not close enough.

“Chan.”

“Yes, noona?”

“Do you wanna kiss me?”

He felt every neuron in his brain misfire at once, completely abandoning him at the worst possible moment.

Did he hear you right?

Did you—did you really just ask him that?

But the way you were looking at him—head bent to the side, eyes locked onto his with quiet amusement—made it clear that he hadn’t.

His fingers twitched against his knee, his pulse hammering in his ears so hard he was sure you could hear it. He opened his mouth, then shut it again, because suddenly, every single response he could think of felt either too much or not enough.

He could feel the warmth radiating off of you, the way your gaze never left his, searching, waiting.

“Uh…” He cleared his throat, forcing himself to meet your gaze. “I—um—”

“Because you keep looking at me like you do,” you continued, your voice softer now. “And if you don’t want to, that’s fine. But I just thought I’d ask.”

Chan let out a shaky breath. He was absolutely, utterly doomed.

He groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. “Noona, you can’t just ask me that.”

“Why not?” You leaned in slightly, your voice dropping just enough to make his pulse go haywire. 

Chan let out another nervous laugh, shaking his head. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

You grinned. “Is that a yes or a no?”

You were still watching him, waiting, and damn it if he didn’t want to kiss you more than anything. He always had. But now? With you looking at him like that, teasing, testing, daring him? It was like he was malfunctioning. 

Yeah, he was probably overthinking this—scratch that, he was definitely overthinking this—but the truth was, this wasn’t just some random moment to him, with a random person. It was you. And you weren’t just anybody to him. 

He didn’t want to screw this up.

But at the same time…

God, he wanted to kiss you. More than he would like to see the sun rise again. 

So, he took a breath, gathering every ounce of courage he had left, and finally, finally, he answered.

“Yes,” he admitted, voice quiet but steady. “I really, really want to kiss you.”

Your smile turned softer, less teasing now. “Then what are you waiting for?”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

His heart pounded as he closed the space between you, his hesitation melting away the second his lips brushed against yours. The moment was slow, tentative at first, like he was memorizing the feel of you, engraving it to his memory in case he never got the chance to do it again. But when you responded to him, when your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him in just a little closer, something inside him snapped. 

Chan exhaled sharply against your lips before deepening the kiss, his hand moving to the back of your neck as he tilted his head, molding himself to you like he’d been waiting for this moment his whole life, and not just two years of it. 

If the party outside still carried on, now it felt distant, muted. The only thing that existed in this moment was your lips and the way they mold together, the way your fingers slid up into his hair, the soft sound you made when he nipped at your bottom lip.

Chan was dizzy. Overwhelmed. 

And completely, absolutely ruined for anyone else. 

Your fingers dung into his tight, searching for support, and you felt him groan against your lips. The sound sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a reaction deep within you. His hand slipped from the back of your neck into your hair, fingers threading through the strands as he tilted your head to the side—and that was it. You were lost too.

When a soft gasp left your lips at the feeling of him pulling your hair slightly, Chan saw the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue past your parted lips, teasingly, deliberately, claiming the space with an intoxicating slowness. They way kissed you left you breathless, lightheaded, as if he’d stolen the very air from your lungs. 

Your knees bumped against his as you tried to move closer, and instead of pulling away, Chan only tightened his grip on you, his arm slipping from your hair to your waist. In one smooth motion, he guided you into his lap, pulling you over his legs until you were straddling him. A surprised giggle bubbled from your lips at the sudden shift, but he didn’t falter—if anything, the sound only seemed to spur him on. His hands settled firmly on your hips, fingers pressing into your skin as if committing your shape to his memory.

One kiss bled into the next, and then another, and another, until the only force pulling you apart was the desperate need for air. Your forehead rested against his for a fleeting moment, both of you panting, neither willing to let go.

Then, with a boldness that sent heat surging through you, you leaned in, taking his bottom lip between yours, sucking gently as your hips rolled forward in an instinctive motion. A groan tore from both of you at the same time at the feeling of you core meeting his half hardened cock for the first time. 

Chan’s head tipped back, his throat exposed to you, a silent invitation too tempting to ignore. You pressed an open-mouthed kiss just below his perfect jaw, feeling the way his pulse leapt beneath your lips. His hands traveled slowly and torturously from your hops to your thighs, hovering just above the hem of your skirt, while you traced your tongue over the skin of his neck, giving it a playful nip with your teeth.

His breath hitched at the feeling, gripping on your tights for dear life as his heart raced like crazy. The fire in his veins was undeniable, every inch of him consumed by the heat of the moment, consumed by you. Your touch, the way your lips moved, was driving him to the edge of something he wasn’t sure he could come back from. 

As Chan looked at you, his eyes begging to close in pleasure, he was sure his pupils were dilated at the scene before him: you looked like a goddess on top of him.  

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he said, voice was low, a rasp of desire that sent a thrill racing through you. 

Your response to his words was to rock your hips against his, feeling the full hardness now pressing your folds through his pants and listening to him whine, breathy and desperate. At the sound of it, you couldn’t help but sink your teeth into his neck, sucking to ensure you left a mark, to ensure everyone saw what you had done to him. 

Chan’s breath came in sharp, uneven, his body shuddering beneath you as your lips lingered over the mark you’d left on his skin. His hands tightened around your tights, fingers twitching like he was resisting the urge to take things further, to let his restraint unravel completely.

“Fuck,” he rasped, his head tilting forward until his forehead rested against yours, his eyes squeezed shut. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

His voice was raw, thick with desire, and it sent a pulse of heat through you.

You hummed against him, dragging your lips up toward his ear, reveling in the way he shivered beneath you. “What do you want, Channie?” you teased, nipping at his earlobe.

Your hands slid beneath his shirt, fingertips tracing along the defined ridges of his stomach. His muscles tensed under your touch, his hands now gripping your thighs like they were the only things keeping him grounded, like he was afraid you’d slip away. 

His eyes fluttered open, dark and desperate as they locked onto yours. 

“You,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I just want you.”

The raw honesty in his words sent another shiver down your spine. Your fingers splayed over his abdomen, feeling the way his stomach tensed beneath your touch, the way his breathing hitched with every slow, deliberate movement of your hands.

“Then take me, baby” you murmured, your lips brushing against his jaw, the ghost of a challenge in your voice.

Chan groaned, his hands sliding up from your thighs, gripping your waist with a reverence that made your pulse stutter. His thumbs traced slow, teasing circles against your skin, his restraint evident in the way his fingers flexed but didn’t pull you closer.

“You’re really trying to kill me, aren’t you?” he whispered, his breath warm against your lips.

You smirked, tilting your head just slightly, an exhalation away from his mouth. “What gave it away?”

He exhaled sharply, his patience snapping like a thread. One moment, you were teasing him, savoring the slow burn, and the next, he was kissing you like he’d been starving for you his entire life. His lips crashed against yours, desperate, all-consuming, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you flush against him.

The heat between you flared, intoxicating and undeniable. Your fingers slid up his chest, tangling in his hair, tugging just enough to draw a low, breathy moan from his lips. The sound sent a thrill through you, your body pressing closer, chasing the feeling of him, the warmth of him, the way he made you feel like you were the only thing that existed.

His hands roamed your body, slipping beneath your shirt, his touch searing against the bare skin of your inner thighs. He wasn’t rushing—no, he was savoring, mapping out every inch of you like he had all the time in the world. Like he wanted to remember this, just in case he never got the chance to do it again.

Your hips rolled instinctively, pressing down against him, and Chan groaned into your mouth, his fingers digging into your skin. “Fuck,” he breathed, his head falling back as he sucked in a sharp breath.

You leaned in, pressing another set of kisses to the column of his throat. “Too much?” you teased, your voice sultry, full of mischief.

Chan’s jaw clenched as he let out a breathless chuckle. “Not even close.”

His hands roamed higher up your thighs, and the moment his index finger traced a slow line over the fabric of your already-soaked panties, a moan slipped from your lips into his. He grunted something unintelligible as he tugged your panties to the side, his fingers finally feeling how wet you were beneath them. Then, he dragged his touch torturously up to your stomach before slipping inside the lace, and you instinctively lifted your hips, giving him better access to where you needed him most.

“Are you this wet for me, noona?” he asked, pulling back to meet your gaze. Two of his fingers pushed inside you, while his thumb circled your most sensitive spot and you cried out. “Is this all because of me?”

You nodded desperately, almost missing the disbelief in his eyes that only fueled the intensity between you. It heighted every touch, made you move in sync with him, your teeth sinking into your lip as he worked you over with deliberate precision, taking his time to drive you absolutely crazy with his fingers moving into and out of you. 

“I want you to sit on my face,” he says with certainty, eyes darkened with something you’ve never seen before, but you love it. The sheer existence of it sends a whimper tumbling from your lips. 

Still, you can't help but think about his safety.

“Are you sure” you asked, your breath coming in short, uneven bursts.

Both of his hands returned to your thighs, slowly trailing up to your ass beneath your skirt. 

“Never been more sure in my entire life. Please” 

“Fuck. Okay.”

You get off him for a moment, quickly slipping off your boots as you step out of the bed. You pull off your skirt and panties, while Chan gets up to remove his shirt, tossing it somewhere in the room. Then he returns to the bed, sitting comfortably and leaning back on his elbows, his gaze never leaving you. His eyes burn with desire as he watches you slowly take off his hoodie before taking your sweet time freeing your breasts from the tight black corset—on purpose.

When your breasts finally spill free, his mouth parts slightly, eyes locked onto your hardened nipples as if it were one of the seven wonders of the world. 

“Come here, baby.”

You slowly crawl across the bed toward where he’s lying close to the headboard, and Chan helps you position yourself on top of him. Each of your thighs settles on either side of his head as you both adjust, ensuring the position is comfortable for both of you.

“You have the prettiest pussy,” he whispered against your pussy, followed by a groan, and you feel his breath hit your entrance, making you tremble slightly.

You knew that you’re so fucking wet that even in the dim light of the room, you’re sure he could see your folds glistening. But instead of feeling embarrassed, a thrill runned through your body when you glanced down and saw Chan licking his lips, his eyes locked onto your core just inches from his face. He stared at you like you’re the last and most delicious meal he's ever going to have in his life. 

“You smell delicious, noona,” The way he speaks makes you moan softly, your hands instinctively moving to squeeze your breasts. “Bet you taste even better.”

Chan gripped the back of your thighs, pulling you closer until your heat is right in front of his face, his eyes drinking in the sight. His lips find your inner thigh first, sucking a mark into your soft skin, slow and deliberate. 

When he finally placed his lips exactly where you needed him, your hands flew straight to grip his hair, holding tightly between your fingers as your legs trembled from the indescribable sensation of his mouth on you. Still, Chan sensed that you were trying to hold back, worried about hurting him, so as soon as you shifted just an inch away from his face, he pushed you back down, holding you tight against him. 

The gasp that left your lips is a sound you’ve never done before, completely immersed in the pleasure he is giving you. His nose nudges against your clit, his tongue gathering your arousal before his mouth moves over you with deliberate hunger, like a man who has been starving for far too long.

“So good, Channie,” you cried out, body almost falling forward. “Holy fuck!”

The way Chan’s mouth moves on you is pure, unrestrained hunger, and it feels so good that, only for a moment, you entertain your brain with the idea that his mouth was made to exactly what he was doing: eating your pussy. His lips cup your clit, his tongue circling the sensitive bud with slow strokes, alternating with long, deep sucks that make you shiver around him. 

His tongue circles your entrance, sliding in as more of you slick spills into his mouth, all for him to savor. The taste of you—god, he never wants this to end. All day, every day, Chan is sure he could do this for the rest of his fucking life. All he wants is to drown himself in this, inside the wet dream that is you with your pussy right in his face.

Your hands pulled his hair tightly after one particularly harsh suck on your clit, back arching deliciously. Your moans was the only sound filling the room and Chan was pretty fucking sure this is the soundtrack of paradise and he can’t wait to get there. 

When his hands moved to your ass, squeezing tightly, it was as if the last shred of self-control in his body had evaporated. You started to rock your hips instinctively, grinding against his face desperately to chase your release while his nose offered you the most earth-shattering sessions. 

“Oh my god, Chan,” you choke out, closing your eyes shut. 

“Hmm.” His hum sended vibrations through your core and suddenly you had to use his shoulders for balance or you would fall forward on the bed. 

Chan was certain he had died and gone to heaven the moment you started grinding against his face. He could feel your legs tense around his head, and when he opened his eyes to take in the scene above him—hands traveling up your body until they reached your breasts, squeezing them tightly—the way your face crumpled and the sounds escaping your parted lips, Chan knew he was in love.

He was done. Gone. 

There was no one else for him in this world. 

Only you.

You.

You.

You. 

You bucked your hips against his face with more urgency as his thumbs rolled over your nipples in the most delicious way. His other hand found your neck, wrapping around it and squeezing lightly, and your head fell back, granting him free access to do whatever he wanted with you. At that moment, the familiar, intoxicating tingling built in the pit of your stomach, moans and sighs spilling from your lips more desperately and loud as you tightened your legs around his head.

“Hmm, suffocate me, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick and low. 

That was all it took for your orgasm to crash over you in the most intense way, your mind bubbling with euphoria, completely lost in a haze of pleasure.

Chan licked and sucked up every last drop, swallowing your release in loud gulps as if it were the only thing capable of keeping him hydrated. As you let go of his shoulders and collapsed onto the bed beside him, your legs, weak as jelly, trembled uncontrollably, matching the shivers that ran through the rest of your body.

When you looked at him, you saw the dazed, blissed-out expression on his face mirroring your fucked out one, like he were the one who had just come. His red lips were parted, his chin glistening, and you couldn't resist the dopey smile on his face. Leaning in, you pressed your lips to his, tasting yourself on him. With a strength you didn’t even know you had, especially right now, you pulled him on top of you, parting your legs so he could fit there.

Chan barely had time to register the movement before letting out a small chuckle. He broke the kiss for a second, brushing your hair from your face to meet your eyes, your pupils blown wide with a desire that was reflecting his own.

He could only be dreaming.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your lips.

Normally, words like that spoken so close would make you shy. But right now, you could feel his hard length pressing against your inner thigh through the fabric of his pants—aching, neglected, and probably leaking.

Your hands traveled from his chest to his pants and you fumbled with his belt, struggling for a moment until your fingers remembered how to work. You unfastened his zipper, hands moving with growing urgency each passing seconds. As you pushed his pants down, your fingers traced the firm and defined lines of his abdomen, the sharp cut of his hips, and the soft hair on the back of his thighs.

The moment you managed to free him from his underwear, Chan’s cock rested on your hip, hard and thick. He groaned at the feeling of your skin against him and and you arched into him, desperate to feel more—to press him even more against you, to take him in.

“Wanna ride you, Channie,” you told him, leaning forward to kiss him again. You reached between you, wrapping your fingers around his cock, feeling him thick and burning hot against your palm. 

Chan let out a shaky breath at your words, his grip on your waist tightening instinctively. His forehead pressed against yours, eyes flickering between yours and your parted lips, as if trying to ground himself, trying to believe that this was actually his reality and not just another figment of his imagination.

“You don’t have to feel obligated, baby.”

“I want it,” You batted your pretty eyelashes at him, and he was lost. “Please.” 

“Okay, noona.”

Your fingers brushed over his jaw, tilting his face up to meet your lips in another deep, searing kiss. Every part of you was incredibly drawn to him, turned on by him, the heat between you almost unbearable now. Slowly, deliberately, you rocked your hips forward, savoring the way his breath stuttered against your lips. 

“You're driving me insane,” he groaned, his hands tightening their hold on you. 

You smiled, feeling the way his pulse raced beneath your lips. “Good. Now lay back for me, baby.”

Chan didn't argue. He shifted slightly, scooting back and patting his tights in invitation for you to hover over his cock. The dim light cast long shadows across the room, highlighting the curve of your back and the way your hair fell around your shoulders. He watched you, his breath catching in his throat as you met his gaze. He lay back and propped himself up on his elbows again, anticipation thrumming through his veins.

You moved with a slow, deliberate grace, straddling him once again, your bare pussy covering his length. The feeling of his cock against your lips sent a shiver down your spine, and you also felt him trembling a little beneath you. 

You paused, savoring his gaze locked on you. His eyes were filled with a mixture of desire and adoration. Smiling down at him, you slid your pussy against his cock, feeling his head rub on your clit. A simultaneous moan escaped from both of you. The next second, his lips were on your breasts, sucking and squeezing the flesh with both hands, clearly impressed by how responsive and sensitive you were to his touch.

After a particularly harsh suck, he released your nipple with an audible pop, the sound echoing in the still-charged air. A smile spread across his face as he watched the flush recede from your skin, leaving a rosy imprint in its wake. 

“Beautiful.” He licked your nipple one more time, gaze locked on yours, as he said,“There's a condom on the nightstand.”

He didn't move, didn't break eye contact, the intensity in his gaze holding you captive. 

“Don't you wanna take me raw, Channie?” you pouted, sliding forward again. “I'm on birth control, and I'm clean.”

He swallowed hard, the muscles in his throat working as he fought for control. Your words, so casually spoken, were a potent aphrodisiac, fueling the fire that already burned within him. The feel of you against him, the heat radiating from your core, was intoxicating, clouding his judgment, making it hard to think straight.

The thought of skin on skin, of being completely, utterly connected to you, was a temptation he wasn't sure he could resist. His gaze drifted up to your lips, then lower, tracing the curve of your neck, the swell of your breasts, the way your hips moved against his. He could feel himself hardening even more, his body betraying his attempts at restraint. 

“Fuck, noona,” He breathed. “Don’t say shit like that.”

“So?” you purred, meeting his gaze. 

“I’m clean too. Put it in. Please.” The words were a raw plea, a confession of his surrender. 

Then, with another soft moan, you took his cock in your hand, lining him up with your entrance, before lowering yourself onto him, the fit perfect, as if you were made for each other.

Chan groaned as you took his full length in, his hands instinctively reaching for your waist, holding you tight against him. He looked up at you, his eyes darkening with passion, while you pushed him just a little to lay down so you could use his chest for support. 

“Fuck,” he cursed out, griping your sides. “You feel so good.”

You began to move, slowly at first, teasing him with each gentle sway of your hips. The rhythm between you built, a slow, sensual dance that sent waves of pleasure crashing through your bodies. Chan's hands tightened on your waist, guiding you, encouraging you, as he moaned softly, his head falling back against the pillows.

“Yeah, baby,” he groaned, voice rough. “Fuck, yes. Just like that.” He arched his back, pushing himself further into you. His hands moved from your waist to your thighs, his fingers digging into your flesh as he urged you on. “Don't stop. Please, don't stop.”

Another slow smile spread across your face. The power you held over him was intoxicating to you, maybe even a little dangerous to your ego. You leaned down, brushing your lips against his. “I wasn't planning on it.”

You increased the tempo, your hips moving with a newfound urgency of driving him to the edge. The rhythm between you intensified, a primal dance of pleasure and need.  

You knew you were already close, that the precipice of orgasm was just within reach. The feeling was overwhelming, a tidal wave of sensation that threatened to consume you entirely. Chan's eyes fluttered closed, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He could feel the tension building within him, the pressure mounting with each thrust.  

You continued to move, faster now, your bodies locked together in a frenzy of desire. The world seemed to fade away, the only thing that mattered was the feeling of him inside you, the heat, the overwhelming pleasure. You were lost in the moment, consumed by the fire that burned between you.

A low moan escaped your lips as he pressed against you, his fingers tracing tight circles around your most sensitive spot. 

“Fuck, Chan,” you screamed, your head falling back, eyes closing as the pressure began to feel exquisite.

He peppered kisses across your chest and neck, his touch alternating between quick pinches and slow, tantalizing rolls of his thumb against your clit. Without warning, his hips surged upwards, driving him deeper inside you. You cried out his name again, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“That's it, baby,” he commanded, “scream my name.”

One arm snaked around your waist, bringing you against him, while the other braced him against the mattress. He began to thrust into you, a relentless rhythm that belied the fact that you were supposed to be the one in control. But neither of you cared. His cock felt so incredibly good inside you, your pussy clenching around him in a tight embrace.

“Chan!” you cried, your voice filled with a mixture of pleasure and desperation.  

The head of his cock found that sweet spot deep within you, and he immediately noticed your reaction, repeating the movement, again and again, until stars began to burst behind your closed eyelids.

The more Chan rhythmically rubbed your clit, the more you felt yourself tightening around him, your release imminent. His breath hitched as you reached your peak, your body shuddering with release. He cried out your name, his own release following close behind as spilled himself inside you. You collapsed against him, your bodies still trembling, your hearts pounding in unison. 

The world dissolved around you, the only thing that existed was the two of you, connected in the most intimate way possible, lost in a sea of pure, unadulterated pleasure. His arms wrapped around you comfortingly, as if he were afraid you'd run away, and you buried your face in his neck, trying to regulate your breathing and savoring the aftershocks, the incredible feeling of your skin melded together. 

Still inside you, Chan almost couldn't believe it at this moment. The reality of you, of this, was almost too much to comprehend. He felt the warmth of you surrounding him, the gentle pulse of your muscles contracting around him, a constant reminder of the incredible intimacy you shared. He looked down at you, your face flushed and relaxed, your eyes closed in contentment. 

He traced the curve of your cheek with his thumb, marveling at the softness of your skin. It was real. You were real. And you were here, with him, wrapped in the aftermath of a moment that had left both of you breathless.

Chan wanted to stay like this forever, locked in this perfect intimacy, lost in the wonder of you. And he knew, with a certainty that settled deep in his bones, that he would do anything to keep it. 

He brushed a stray strand of hair from your forehead, before confessing, “I wanted this for so long.”

Your eyelids fluttered open, and you met his eyes, a soft smile gracing your lips. "Mmm," you hummed, snuggling closer to him. “Me too.” 

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, and Chan blinked. “Really?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.

Certainly, he hadn't expected that. He thought he was the only one clinging to this moment, the only one so deeply affected by it, that he was certain he was thoroughly gone for anyone else. The fact that you felt the same way, that you’d wanted this just as much as he had, sent a fresh wave of warmth through him. 

You nodded, your smile widening. “Really, really,” you confirmed, fingers tracing the line of his beautiful jaw. “I've been wanting this...for longer than I care to admit.” 

He felt a blush creeping up his neck, a mixture of pleasure and disbelief swirling within him. 

“Wow,” he breathed, his voice barely a whisper.  “I...I didn't think…”

“Didn't think what?” you teased, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

He hesitated, suddenly feeling shy again. “Didn't think you felt the same way. I thought...I thought I thought you were just a little bit out of my limit, I guess.”

Looking away for a moment, Chan suddenly felt fascinated by a stray thread on the sheet. Saying that out loud sounded ridiculous, he knew. Seungkwan and Vernon would probably laugh at him if they could hear him now. He was a grown ass man; a successful dancer, yet he felt like a nervous teenager confessing his feelings for the first time to the girl he had a silly little crush on. 

Except it was no longer silly for him anymore, and he was sure the feeling burning in his chest was much bigger than a crush. Love? He preferred to think about it after the effects of the afterglow had worn off.

His mind was filled with something else. For instance, the fact that, once, he'd been so sure you were out of his reach, so convinced that he was lucky just to be in your orbit. To know that you felt the same way, that you saw him as an equal, was both exhilarating and terrifying.

You gently cupped his face in your hands, turning his gaze back to yours. “Out of your limit?” you echoed. “Channie, I’m so in your limit that is actually embarrassing. I’ve always been in your limit.”

He raised an eyebrow, another flicker of disbelief in his eyes. “Always?”

“From the moment I saw you on that stage, two years ago,” you confessed. “I saw something in you, something special. Something...that made me want to get to know you better.”

Chan chuckled, a self-deprecating sound. “And you weren't scared off by my…awkwardness around you?”

You laughed, a warm, genuine sound that filled the room. “Your awkwardness is part of your charm,” you teased. “Besides,” you added, leaning in to whisper against his lips, “I can be pretty awkward myself sometimes.”

He grinned, his earlier shyness melting away. “Is that so?”

You nodded, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “Absolutely. But you'll have to stick around to find out just how awkward I can be.”

He chuckled, his arms tightening around you. “I think,” he said, his voice laced with affection. “I'm willing to take that risk.” Then he paused, a shadow crossing his face briefly. “Can I ask you something, tough?”

“Mhmm.”

“Jongin. Why… why did you date him?”

You sighed a hint of weariness in your eyes. You should have seen it coming.

“Honestly, Channie?” you began, “Because at the time, I didn't think you were interested too.” You met his gaze, your eyes filled with honesty. “Like I said earlier, he showed me the kind of attention I thought I needed. He was…persistent. And you,” you paused, choosing your words carefully, “you seemed…distant. You ran away whenever I tried to talk to you. At least now I know why.”

He winced slightly, recognizing the truth in your words. He'd been so afraid of rejection that he'd inadvertently pushed you away. “I…I was an idiot.” 

You smiled sadly. “We both were,” you shrugged. “But,” you added, a brighter note entering your voice, “we're not idiots anymore.” You leaned in, kissing him softly. “And now,” you gave him another peck, “I have exactly what I want.”

Chan cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks. “Me too.” He pulled you closer, burying his face in your hair. “Thank you.”

“For what?” you asked, your voice muffled against his chest.

“For giving me a second chance.”

You pulled back slightly, searching for his eyes. “You don’t have to thank me, baby,” you said softly, with a teasing smile playing on your lips. “You just came inside me, I think you earned it.”

A slow grin spread across his face, a mixture of amusement and pure adoration. His eyebrows raised suggestively.

“Oh, is that how it works?” he teased, his eyes sparkling. “So, every time I…you know…” 

You laughed, playfully shoving him in the chest. 

“Don't get any ideas, Mr. Lee” you said, though the heat rising in your cheeks betrayed your words. “I'm a tough negotiator. You'll have to work a lot harder than that to earn my gratitude.”

“Oh, I'm not worried about that. I'm a very hard worker. And, I'm more than happy to put in the overtime.”

“We'll see about that,” you whispered against his lips, though the smile playing on your face suggested you were more than willing to let him try. “You're incredible, Lee Chan. Don't ever forget that.”

He smiled, his heart overflowing with love. “I won't,” he promised. “Not anymore.” 

©sound-of-scoups

If you liked this feel free to let me know with a like, reblog, comment, whatever you prefer! ❤️

A/N: The next morning + Vernon and Seungkwan's reactions to finding out about them were in my plans for the story, but in the end, I thought this ending was perfect and decided not to include. If you'd like to read about it, please let me know here.

[m4iya]

I like your accent, where're you from? Suna Rintaro

@moochiwoochi - from my 50 followers event

When a new student transfers to your school, his lack of an accent - rather, its difference to yours - takes you by surprise.

"When are they going-ta just leave him alone? He's not a spectacle." Your friend groaned from beside you before taking a bite of her food.

At the front of the classroom sat a student who had transferred into your high school not long ago. Since he'd arrived, a bunch of your classmates had been hanging around him like he was some celebrity.

Though today, their excessive chatter and laughter made you feel increasingly irritated as your head had started throbbing from all the noise. You began to wonder if your classmates even brought lunch with them, seeing as their entire break seemed to be occupied in effort of gaining his attention.

Though he didn't seem too intrigued by the crowd, often trying to escape them. You'd also recently noticed that he'd developed a habit of randomly disappearing during breaks.

"Whatever, It'll probably die down in a few weeks". You replied, standing up from your table.

"Where're ya going?"

"Just-ta get some fresh air."

Your school was relatively large, with various places for students to spend their breaks. A courtyard, open rooftop and many outdoor seating areas. Though even with all the extra space, many students still preferred to stay indoors, eating their lunch in the cafeteria or spending their breaks in their classroom.

You too spent most of your break time inside class with your friends, but in moments such as these, you needed to take a breather and rest your brain for some time.

In the courtyard was a large patch of grass, shaded by a few trees. It was behind one of the buildings, so it wasn't completely quiet, but it sure was a break from all the noise inside the classroom.

Purchasing something to drink from the cafeteria, you made your way over to the place you usually sit at. Though as you inched closer, you noticed a figure lying atop the grass. You initially had no idea who it was, but a few steps later, you noticed it was the new student who - when you last saw him - was being swarmed by classmates. You wondered if talking to him was an option, finding it a little awkward to strike up a conversation even though you hadn't said a single word to him since he'd transferred.

Though, as you made the decision to leave, a dry leaf crunched under your foot, causing him to sit up; eyes immediately landing on you. You shot him an awkward smile before proceeding to turn around, only to hear his voice pop up from behind.

"Wait."

Turning back around, you see him sitting cross legged, patting the patch next to him. You proceeded to sit down, wondering what on earth he wanted.

"Did ya need something?" You asked, poking the straw into your drink, attempting to maintain a semblance of nonchalance.

"We haven't met yet. You're in my class, aren't you?"

You'd heard him speak before, although only once during class introductions. Though hearing it up close caught you off guard. It wasn't something you heard everyday.

"Um.. Yeah, I am." You replied.

"Well, at least you aren't swarming me." He muttered, bringing his knees up to his chin. "Like, I've never heard a western accent in person either, so what makes me so different?"

You listened to him frustratingly complain to you - who was also someone he had just met - about the swarms of people clinging to him. The two of you ended up getting carried away in conversation, finding things in common with each other. Though, the ringing of the bell eventually sounded throughout the school, putting a lid on your conversation.

However, as you both made your way through back to class together, he still had one more thing to say.

"You'll have to teach me the slang one day."

"You'll probably pick it up on yer own." You laughed.

Taking each other’s contact details, you’d begin messaging over text, meeting up after school and continuing to hang out during breaks as well. Eventually, the crowds around him fizzled out as they got used to him.

He’d joke around with you, saying: “Aw shucks, I’m not popular anymore.” and you’d laugh about it, responding with: “Yer five minutes of fame are finally over.”

other works

[littleindulgences]

If he were in the business of being honest with himself, Simon would admit that he was actually kind of nervous. He turns the blank white envelope over and over in his hands, watching you from across the mess hall. You’re sitting with a squad of recruits today, getting to know them for reasons he can’t fathom. Your smile warms him all the way from here.

“Ye just got to do it, LT,” Soap remarks with his mouth full. “‘S the only way to put it to rest.” Simon just grunts. He’s still a little loath to admit that he has a crush on you—it’s childish, and embarrassing, and compromising…

But he can’t help it.

He watches you exit the mess, the recruits trailing after you like ducklings. The envelope twists in his hands.

“She’s got range duty for the next two hours,” John says with raised eyebrows as he takes a sip of his drink. Simon purses his lips under the mask. His team stares at him pointedly.

“Ah, fuck off,” he grumbles, rising from the bench and walking off. “Arseholes.”

“Good luck, LT!” Soap calls after him. Simon flips him the bird. The Scot’s cackle follows him out.

Ghost wanders into the barracks, taking a winding, looping route that doesn’t do anything but make his apprehension worse. He finally forces himself to take Johnny’s advice and just fucking do it, and he marches right up to your locked door and slips the envelope underneath.

There. Nothing more to do but wait.

What the fuck. What the fuck. The note lays flat on your cot, rather unassuming, except for the newspaper-cutout letters and the thick black marker scrawling out a time, a place, and “You’ll Be Mine” with a little heart underneath.

“Well that’s…terrifying,” says Alicia, your bunkmate.

“Mhm,” you say. You’ve been staring at it for five minutes.

You found the envelope on the floor when you came back from training. It was blank except for the puppy dog sticker on the back, clearly intended to mimic your callsign: Watchdog. You’d opened it without a thought and found this, a threat/ransom note of what you think was meant to be a valentine.

“You’re not gonna go, are you?” Alicia asks.

You suck in a breath through your teeth and make a noncommittal noise. Alicia throws her hands up.

“Babe. You will get snatched if you go.”

“Not necessarily! Besides, if I go, then I know who sent this to me and can like…confront them or something,” you defend.

“Or you could take this to Price and report it,” Alicia deadpans, ever the voice of reason. You wave her off. She rolls her eyes and stands, bumping your shoulder. “Whatever. I’m heading out, my girlfriend’s waiting for me. Please try not to get kidnapped?”

“I’ll do my best,” you reply and give her a peck on the cheek.

But there are no guarantees in your line of work, and this is no exception. You narrow your eyes at the note. Bring it on.

You came. Holy shit this is farther than Simon thought he’d get. His palms feel sweaty. Did it get hot out all of a sudden?

“Ghost, you gotta calm down, mate,” Gaz whispers, motioning at him to breathe.

“I’m fine,” Simon snaps. You’re right there, turning every so often, peering into the dark with that look of concentration he loves on you. He can imagine the way your nose wrinkles and the way your tongue pokes between your teeth.

Simon shakes himself. Get it together, soldier.

“Alright, it’s go time!” Johnny whispers, and nudges Simon out of the shadows. “Go get ‘er LT!”

Simon takes one last deep breath and starts across the field to you.

Whoever invited you here is fuckin’ late. You’ve always been of the mind that early is on time and on time is late, which is most people’s opinion here anyway. And the note said 2100 hours! It’s coming up on 2105 now.

The note didn’t even name a meeting place, either, just coordinates that led to the massive oak tree behind the shooting range. Which isn’t suspicious at all. You turn in a slow circle every so often—head on a swivel and all that. While you were all bravado with Alicia earlier, you were a little tiny bit worried that maybe something would happen. You made sure to bring your bear mace with you, in the end. Just in case.

You’re about to call it quits and head back when a huge meaty hand falls on your shoulder.

Before you can blink you’ve whipped around, depressing what has to be half the canister on your attacker. They crumple, and you take the chance to plant your hands on their shoulders and your knee in their balls, sending them into the dirt. You take off running. Your heart climbs into your throat. Holy shit, Alicia was right!

You’re so caught up in your escape that you don’t notice where you’re going until you run smack into a barrel chest. Strong hands catch your arms and hold you upright.

“Woah, woah, lass! What was that?” It’s Soap, and he’s staring at you with a mix of horror and confusion. You see Gaz sprint off in the corner of your eye.

You’re out of breath. “I-I got this weird-ass note earlier,” you try to explain, “and it said to come out here? But it didn’t say who it was from and ‘Licia was worried I’d get kidnapped, and then that creep showed up—”

“That’s not a creep, that’s fuckin’ Ghost!”

“Huh?” You twist, and sure enough, Gaz is helping Ghost’s hulking form off the ground, supporting him as he struggles against the effects of the mace. Fuck.

Gaz and Simon stagger over. “We need to get him to medical,” Gaz says. You bury your face in your hands.

You sit awkwardly on a stool next to Ghost’s cot as the nurses irrigate his face. Price, Gaz, and Soap hover in the corner, talking quietly amongst themselves and occasionally looking over at you. You’d shown them the note Ghost had apparently given you.

Eventually the nurses leave Ghost be for a minute, and that’s when Price jumps in.

“Okay,” he starts, then turns to you. “Watch, you aren’t being stalked. Ghost wanted to give you a valentine rather than actually talk to you, against our advice.” Then he turns to Ghost. “Simon. Why.”

Ghost shrugs and frowns down at his lap. “You all said that valentines are ‘sposed to be secret. I knew she’d recognize my handwriting, so I improvised.”

“And you didn’t think that maybe you could just type something up?” Gaz asks. Simon shrugs again, but you can tell he’s blushing under the mask.

“Soap said handmade ones are better,” he admits quietly. The group turns to Soap. He gapes.

“Oh, like this is my fault,” he grumbles.

“I’m sorry for startling you,” Simon says, addressing you directly for the first time. “I just wanted…” He trails off, glares down at his lap.

“I’m sorry for macing you,” you tell him. “And for kneeing you in the balls.” Price facepalms beside you and you scramble to think of something else. “I—I liked the dog sticker, though!”

“Yeah?” Simon glances up at you. You can tell he’s grinning, and you smile back.

“Yeah,” you say. “Put him in my notebook.” The both of you sit there, smiling at each other like idiots.

“All right, ye two, tone it down,” Johnny chimes in, and Gaz elbows him. Price rolls his eyes and herds them out. You watch them leave, then turn back to Ghost. He’s picking at his cuticles, a rare show of vulnerability.

“Simon?” you say before you can overthink it.

“Mm?” He looks up at you. A stray sunbeam touches his face, turning his puffy, red-rimmed eyes into melted chocolate. You feel yourself flush.

“Would you…maybe want to go to dinner sometime?” you ask. Simon straightens on the tiny cot, and yeah, he’s really smiling now. Your heart kicks up a few notches.

“I’d love to,” he says. “Please don’t bring the mace.”

[sunsbaby]

༝༚༝༚

ּ ֶָ֢ 𓍯𓂃 dean winchester x cupid!reader | valentines day special 18+ |

You'd met Dean when he was at his lowest, in which you pulled him up with soft gentle hands. Filling his heart with the love you normally struck within others. He was in debt to you, even if you told him it didn't matter.

"Let me take care of you, baby." He said pleading you with those eyes, his hands were glued to your hips. It was Valentine's day, and Dean wanted to show you all the love you deserved.

He already started the day showering you with chocolates and flowers, everything he found with hearts on it—you had. Now, as the sun set and the moon's light slipped past the blinds, all he wanted to do was take care of you. Just how you took care of him.

"Dean, you've done enough today, it's all perfect." You said, your hands moving to toy with his short locks. Gentle eyes looking up towards his.

His lips found yours in a passionate kiss, shushing you as his body pressed against yours. Slowly walked you towards the bed until the two of you dropped down on top of it. His hands find their way onto your thighs, pulling the flesh apart.

"Please, baby." He practically whined—Dean whining, you couldn't say no. Especially when he gave you those puppy eyes, all love-sick and sweet. So, you gave him a nod, watching as he moved between your thighs.

You hadn't been wearing shorts nor pants, seeing as the two of you stayed home all day. You didn't mind of course, wine and movies with your love was all you wanted. Dean's breath fawned on your clothed pussy, cooling the damp spot that had formed.

He nipped at the inside of your thighs, leaving little teeth marks in his wake. He sucked and gripped them tight as he got closer, hickeys littered the flesh. His fingers teased the fabric of your panties, slowly pulling them away and off of you.

As soon as they were tossed somewhere on the floor to be forgotten about, he dived in. Eating your pussy like a man starved. He lapped at your juices—pulling moans and mewls from you like nothing. He didn't falter, his grip on your thighs keeping you from closing them.

Your hands grasped onto his hair, hips bucking against his face as his nose hit your clit perfectly. Noises fell from your lips and struck his heart like one of your arrows, they fueled him on. His hips bucked against the mattress as his own groans slipped past his arousal coated lips.

A knot formed in your lower belly as your head fell back, the grip on his hair tightened drastically, now chasing your own release with no mind to how he feels. But, Dean was having the best night of his life. Tongue deep in his little cupids pretty pussy, drinking in your juices like a glass of whiskey.

"Dean!" You shouted as you came, which he obviously lapped up like a dog. He continued his attack on your clit, even as your high crashed down on you.

"There's my pretty baby." He murmured against your thigh as you came, he pulled away from your now swollen cunt. Planting a soft kiss to your soaked slit he moved back up to face you. "Y'still think I had 'done enough?'" He asked, a stupid smile etched onto his features.

He stared at your fucked out expression with such love and admiration he'd never shown to anyone else. Yet, as he lay next to you, tangled up as you slept on his chest all he could think about was how much he really did care for you and love you. Dean didn't think he could love, all he did was hurt.

You changed something inside him, in that moment Dean Winchester realized, you were just what he needed in life.

sunny yaps! HAPPY VALENTINES DAY EVERYONE!! heres a Dean smut for you all! AS I'VE SAID MANY TIMES I AM NOT THE BEST AND THIS ISN'T PROOF READ PLEASE DONT BEAT ME UP!! I LOVE YOU ALL 💋 KISSES!!

special tags! @figthoughts @bluemerakis @dulcescorderitas

[wandaslullaby]

Power Run || Wanda Maximoff x Reader

summary: the turn of events ignites something inside you.

part 2 of test track

warnings: lactation kink

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

There was no doubt that you were a vivid dreamer but, the events that happened last night surely wasn't real. It couldn't be, there was no way you would infantilize yourself for Wanda. You weren't exactly attracted to women, but something came undone when Wanda outed you for essentially being a creep. It wasn't intentional, you were a sucker for tits and prying on Wanda isn't something that's illegal, it just felt like the universe wanted you there to see them.

For a long time you weren't a heavy sleep but how fortunate is it that after Wanda used her nurturing skills, something you always wanted from your own mother, you were breathing heavily and woke up freely without no disturbances.

"Y/N? You still asleep?" Tommy crept in, cup of hot chocolate with fresh cream and marshmallows in his hands.

You turned towards the voice, shaking your head as you watched Tommy come towards you. "Hot coco? I haven't had this since I was a kid."

Tommy frowned, he knew about your shitty homelife but never wanted to bring it up without you talking about it first.

"Mum usually makes this for us when we finally understand what we did was wrong. Bit strange since you haven't done anything." Tommy took a breath, "You didn't do anything wrong, right Y/N?"

The instant regret found you. You quickly shaked your head, taking the hot chocolate from him. "I haven't, has Wanda said anything?"

"Nope. She's been extra weird today though. Something must of lifted her spirts because before you came over, she was ranting to her best friend, Agatha about my dad."

You took a sip, moaning at the taste of the drink. "This is so good, how have I never had one?"

"Like I said, it only comes when you learn a lesson."

You stayed silent, taking small sips as Tommy started to tell you all the details of the party. As Tommy kept going on about Flash and how they made out in the garden, you couldn't stop thinking about last night. It felt like every time you fidgeted, you felt your panties getting wetter at the sight of how Wanda was with you. You weren't quite sure why you kept replaying the moments when you knew that it wasn't right.

"So now, I'm getting ready for a date with Flash. He is going to pick me up soon and going to head to the arcade."

"Is this my queue to leave then?"

"Definitely not." Tommy said. "Actually, I was thinking if you could help my mum out today? She really needs some help with house stuff and I kinda told her that you were good at that stuff..."

You signed, "I have to get back home, Tommo. Mum's probably going to go ma-"

"I just got off the phone with her, sweets. She is more than happy for you to be here helping a fellow neighbour out. Apparently, I've heard that you haven't done any chores for your neighbours in a while which is very disappointing." Wanda said, walking into the spare bedroom.

Tommy looked over at you, "Maybe that's why you got hot chocolate today?"

Wanda gazed at you, grinning at the sight of how dumbfounded you became. "I think Y/N knows exactly what she has done, baby. Isn't that right?"

You coughed, nodding trying to not look at Tommy's confused face. "I would be happy to help you. May i have a shower first?"

And that was Tommy queue to get ready. You both watched Tommy walk away, vanishing into the hallway. Now it was just you and Wanda, and for some reason you weren't exactly sure how to behave around her.

"I think you ought to have a bath, baby. We don't want to have another sticky situation, do we?"

"No, we don't" You breathed, and watched as Wanda held her hand out for you to hold.

"Hold my hand tight. Those little bambi legs can go so far." Wanda giggled, as you obediently held her hand and followed her. You thought Wanda would leave you for some peace but here she was, lifting you up to sit on the sink as she started to peel your clothes off.

Something about this felt invasive, but somehow you felt your head slump into her chest. Wanda didn't even bat an eyelid and carefully aided you until you were naked. She slowly unzips her t-shirt, something that nursing mother's would wear and pushed it to the side. "How rude of me, you haven't had any breakfast have you? You were waiting for Mommy weren't you?"

You didn't even respond and didn't fight when Wanda slowly lifted your head towards the direction of her tit. Wanda was about to explain her action but she hissed as you latched tightly onto her nipple, sucking aggressively. She tried to get you off but you only whined and carried on sucking.

"Slowly, baby. You are going to get a tummy ache." Wanda cooed as she watched from the mirror how well you were arched. She knew that you weren't stopping anytime soon, so she carefully took her phone out, and started to record you. The soft moans and whimpers coming from you was a sign that you were almost finished. She stopped the recording, placing her phone back into her pocket and stroked your crimson cheeks.

"You are going to drink me dry, baby." Wanda whispered into your ear but you didn't care, you were so drunk on her milk that you didn't want to stop. Wanda laughed not expecting you to be so open to this but as much as she wanted to watch the sight of you latching onto her tits, you needed a bath.

Your movements came to an end and Wanda slowly lifted your head, admiring the drunken state of you. She grinned, wiping the excess of her milk with her finger before giving you a kiss on your forehead.

"Did you like that?" Wanda whispered, stroking your hair.

"Mhm" you responded and detached yourself from her. Wanda waited until you were ready to get into the bath for the confusing to enter.

"W-What just happened?" You said, "Why does my tummy hurt and feel so full?"

Wanda breathed, she was totally excepting you to lash out. "You had too much milk, baby. You almost drank me dry."

You furrowed your eyebrows, "Drank you? How could I-" That's when you realised what you had done. You were levelled to her tits, looking directly at the swollen nipple on her right tit. Tears swam in your eyes as you huddled yourself, "I did that? I'm so sorry Wanda, I don't know why I did that?" You cried, "What's happening to me?"

Wanda heart sank, she knew that you were troubled but watching you fuss burned something inside her. "Nothing is happening to you, sweetheart, you just got a little carried away."

"Carried away? I sucked your tit, Wanda. That's what babies do!" You said, "I don't know why I'm turning into a needy little girl. I've always been independent and now i feel like I need your touch, 24/7."

Wanda wrapped you into her frame, gently calming you down. "It's okay to have these feelings, sweetie. I think you just feel a little neglected from home and watching how i take care of my boys, i can't imagine how jealous you would be."

"They don't behave like that, like me. I've never seen them be nurturing towards you. Why am I?"

"You're a girl. A sweet, naivee and stupid girl that just needed some female attention." Wanda laughed, almost turning it around to make you feel more embarrassed than you were.

You signed, not really understanding. "It won't happen again, I promise."

Wanda only agreed, but she knew that her remedies were taking effect quicker than she excepted. She knew once she poured a special something in your hot chocolate that something inside you that you tried to hide would come to the surface, and now that it has, Wanda needed a chat with Agatha, the town's secret witch.

[harmless-variety-of-garden-snake]

I almost posted an alternate for today, because I don't know if I love this one. But I'm home sick, so I don't want to think too hard. ANYWAY. Here's my day thirteen fill for BuckTommy Fluffebruary: Love Declarations, and here's how I got these crazy kids back together in the vague universe these fills are set in. Tagging @bucktommyfluffebruary

There’s a helicopter over the building, and Buck has already heard Tommy’s voice over the radio. He knows who’s flying, who he’s going to see as soon as he’s lifted out, but he’s got a scared kid on his hip and can’t really be too tied up in what happened between them.

“Coming down,” Lucy says over the radio, and Buck acknowledges her.

“You ready?” he asks the kid, Susie, and she looks at him with wide, terrified eyes. She’d been the only one in her apartment when the fire broke out, and Buck had been cut off from the ladder and Eddie when he got her. She’d been smart, though, and stayed low and kept her face covered like she’d been taught in school. After scooping her up, Buck radioed for help, and Tommy’s voice had come in loud and clear telling him to go up to the south corner of the roof to avoid potential structure collapse on the north side. “I know the pilot in that chopper, he’s the best pilot in the whole world. I promise, he’ll get us out of here and we’ll get you back to your mom, okay?”

“Okay,” she says, barely audible over the rotors. “You promise?”

Buck lifts his gloved hand, pinky stuck out, and he holds her gaze as she locks her small finger around his. A five-year-old understands how sacred the pinky promise is, and she gives him a tiny nod.

“Wanna know something cool?” he asks as Lucy descends on the ladder. “He flew into a hurricane the night we met, and we’re still here. No one is better at this.”

Susie looks up at the helicopter with something like awe, and Buck hugs her close until Lucy can reach for her, clipping her onto a harness and yelling instructions that he can’t hear. He waits until they’re climbing up before he hooks his arms and feet into the rungs. The helicopter is steady as he climbs, and he even feels it tip a little when he’s climbing in to make it an easier angle to climb in.

“Show-off,” he mutters to absolutely no one. Lucy has Susie in her lap, Tommy is in the pilot’s seat, the seat next to him is empty. Buck unhooks his gear and secures it as best he can before he sits next to Tommy and puts a headset on. “Thanks for the lift.”

“You okay?” Tommy asks, his voice like a balm after two months apart.

“Could be worse,” Buck says, watching as the north corner of the building collapses. “That was my original exit.”

“I have a parking lot nearby cleared for landing,” Tommy says, nodding to something in the distance. Buck is too busy looking at him, drinking in the sight of his side profile.

Tommy looks alert, but there’s circles under his eyes. His hair is a little longer than he usually keeps it, so is his stubble. He looks like he had when he’d gotten food poisoning after Sal’s Labor Day barbecue. But he still flies with total confidence, checking and double-checking that no one is in their immediate airspace and that they have enough clearance for landing.

“Alright, we’re going to land now,” he says, and Buck twists around to see Lucy relaying this to Susie. The girl nods and asks something.

“Any word on her mom?” Lucy asks through the headset.

“She was in the laundry room downstairs,” Buck says. “She’s got a couple minor burns from trying to get the stairwell door open, but she’s on-site. Cap said she’ll be waiting.”

When they land, Lucy has to hold Susie tight until they’re ready to exit, and then Buck jumps up to help the girl out. He’s got her on his hip again and hears a woman scream her name as she runs toward them. Susie squirms in his grip, and Buck carefully sets her on her feet, watching as she runs toward her mom and gets swept up in a tearful hug.

He turns back to the chopper and climbs in to retrieve his gear. The rotors are winding down, because there’s people running around them and Lucy is outside talking to Bobby, and it’s quiet.

“You look like shit,” he says, and Tommy snorts from his seat. “Kind of.”

“You look good,” Tommy says, looking over his shoulder at him.

“I feel like shit,” Buck says, tucking his helmet under his arm. “Thanks for the ride.”

A hand reaches back before he can jump out, and Buck stops, looking down at the thick fingers curled around his elbow. It’s like a sad version of that day after the cruise ship rescue, when Buck had felt the need to reach out and touch Tommy and Tommy had reached back and smiled and made something flutter in his stomach. Now he feels like there’s a big stone there instead.

“Hey,” Tommy says softly, and Buck looks at him. “When are you off?”

“Now,” Buck says. “You?”

“Forty minutes ago.” His fingers rub the material of Buck’s jacket. “I gotta fly back, but can we talk after?”

Buck swallows around the lump in his throat. “Why?”

“Because I think I made the biggest mistake of my life,” Tommy says, looking at him with pleading eyes. “And I want to know if it’s too late to fix it.”

His heart seizes in his chest, feeling hope for the first time in two months.

“It’s not,” Buck says, his voice coming out in a rush, dropping his helmet so he can reach for Tommy’s cheek, ripping off his glove so he can feel the skin against his. “It’s not.”

Tommy leans into his touch and closes his eyes, the crease between his brows smoothing and the tension around his eyes easing. “I’m not brave.”

“I’m not either,” Buck says before he takes off his other glove with his teeth and reaches for Tommy’s other cheek. “I’m not a lot of things.”

“You’re perfect,” Tommy says, opening his eyes and smiling just the smallest amount. “God, Evan, you’re perfect.”

“I’m not,” Buck insists, moving to kneel next to Tommy’s seat. “I said everything all wrong. I didn’t mean for any of it to seem like I was just wanting to live with you because I admired you. I had a plan, and I-I panicked? I don’t know.”

“I think I would’ve run off anyway,” Tommy admits, his gaze dropping from Buck’s. “There’s this thing I do where I think I can see into the future, and it’s never good. And so I leave before it can get bad.”

Buck smiles, his heart breaking for Tommy all over again, and strokes his thumb over his stubble. “But what if it’s good? What if it’s good this time? Didn’t it feel like it was? Like it’d maybe always be like that?”

“Yeah,” Tommy says, his hand coming up to hook over Buck’s wrist, his thumb rubbing against his bare skin. “You didn’t say anything wrong, just none of it was…correct. I’m not—I’m not what you think I am.”

“I think you’re everything I’ve ever been looking for.” Buck’s smile widens when Tommy’s gaze shifts back to his and softens. “And I think you’re the only person I’ll ever find who makes me feel the way you do, who puts up with everything that isn’t perfect about me. So I also think we should give this another shot.”

“Really?” Tommy says, his voice soft and disbelieving.

“You gave me a second chance after I really fucked up. What kind of guy would I be if I didn’t give you one?”

Tommy shrugs. “A reasonable one?”

Buck huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. “Nah, I’ve never been that. Never been reasonable, never been great at thinking before I talk, I’m pretty bad at self-control, and I’ve got abandonment issues like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Yeah, but I love you anyway.”

It sounds so simple when Tommy says it, but Buck feels his breath stutter in his chest. Tommy knows about Daniel, about the lying, but he doesn’t know about that day. He doesn’t know what Buck had wanted more than anything from his parents, from anybody.

Tommy’s eyes dart between his. “Sorry, was that—”

Buck cuts him off with a kiss, Tommy's face still cradled in his hands. When a hand curls around the back of his neck, he feels safe.

“I love you,” Buck whispers in the scant space between their lips when they break apart to breathe. “We still need to talk, but I can’t let you fly off without saying that.”

Tommy kisses him again, and it’s messy and a little frantic and so, so familiar. It’s the way he’d kiss Buck when he seemed desperate for him, the way he’d kiss when they hadn’t seen each other in days because of shift schedules keeping them apart, the way Buck had kissed him in a hospital when he’d finally had someone show up for him.

“Hey, everything ok—oh, shit,” Lucy says from behind them, and Buck breaks the kiss quickly. It’s really not okay that they’re doing this on a call. “I mean, don’t let me interrupt.”

“No, sorry, I should—” Buck points his thumb over his shoulder and looks back at Tommy, who’s flushed and smiling and the prettiest thing Buck’s ever seen. “Cap’s probably waiting.”

“Yeah, I’d like to get home,” Bobby says from behind Lucy. “You okay, Buck?”

“Yeah,” Buck says with a shaky smile as he keeps staring into Tommy’s eyes. “Yeah, I’m great.”

He leans in and kisses Tommy again before slipping out of the chopper. When he looks back, Tommy is out of his seat and following him.

“Luce, can you fly us back?” he asks, and she nods, slipping into the seat he’s just vacated. Tommy turns his attention back to Buck and reaches for his hands. “I’ll make you dinner. Unless you want to go out or go to your place.”

Buck shakes his head. “No, that sounds nice. Also, all I have at my place is bread and two kinds of cake right now. Unless you want a bowl of ganache for dinner.”

Tommy’s brows knit together. “I—ganache?”

“Don’t ask,” Bobby says dryly.

“I’ll explain it later,” Buck says, flushing. “But, yeah, I can come over.”

“Okay,” Tommy says, smiling when Buck does. “God, I’m never letting you go again.”

“Good,” Buck says, leaning in until their foreheads are touching. “I’m not letting you go, either. I mean, other than literally, because I kinda have to go back to the station.”

Tommy laughs, and Buck pulls back so he can see the way Tommy’s nose scrunches. “God, I love you so much,” Tommy says.

“I love you, too,” Buck says, feeling every bone in his body melt away. He’s addicted to saying it now, he can feel it. His heart feels like it's made of air and sparks and butterflies, everything feels brighter. “I’ll see you soon.”

Tommy leans in and gives him a quick, too-fast kiss, because now they’re in public and really shouldn’t be kissing on a call. When they separate, Buck turns to see that Bobby, Eddie, Hen, and Chimney are watching with giant grins on their faces.

“Shut up,” he says, his face growing hot as he walks toward them, glancing back as Tommy climbs into the chopper. He waves, and Buck smiles and waves back.

“We didn’t say anything,” Chimney protests.

“Yeah, we’re just happy for you,” Hen says, throwing an arm across his back as they walk toward where the engine’s parked.

“Yeah, and I’m also happy because I just won like fifty bucks from Josh,” Eddie adds. “I said you’d get back together before Valentine’s Day, he had money on the day.”

“And we just cleaned out half of Harbor,” Chimney says, fist-bumping with Hen behind Buck’s back. “Because half of them said before New Year’s, half of them had Valentine’s Day or my wedding anniversary. We doubled down on January. I even got a bonus for it being under eight weeks.”

“I didn’t bet on your relationship,” Bobby says, patting Buck’s shoulder as he passes them.

“Thanks, Cap,” he says dryly.

“Because I knew you’d figure it out in your own time, and also Athena called it a ‘sucker’s bet,” he adds, grinning over his shoulder.

“I hate all of you,” Buck mutters.

“You love us,” Hen says, squeezing him tight.

“Not as much as Tommy, but we’re high on the list,” Chimney agrees.

“And we love you,” Eddie says. “Even though you were busy making up with your boyfriend while we finished putting out that fire.”

Buck throws up his hands in exasperation. “I had to get airlifted from the site!”

“By your bo-oyfriend,” Eddie teases.

“Guys,” Bobby says, opening the engine. “C’mon—”

Buck sighs. “Thank you.”

“—let’s not pressure them into any labels yet.”

Buck hauls himself inside. “Traitor.”

“My A1C is up half a point from last year, I don’t want to hear it. Let’s go, kids, some of us have dinners to get to and paperwork to fill out.”

They pile into the engine, and Buck slouches in his seat with a smile on his face. He texts Tommy that he’s bringing dessert, and he watches intently as a bubble appears until the text comes through.

Tommy

Sounds good :)

You can head over whenever you want. I’m leaving as soon as we land.

Got a hot date tonight. I hope. Lucy said she’s going to drop us out of the sky because she’s out $100??

I’ll see you soon, I’m getting reamed for not being a romantic and waiting until Valentine’s Day?

[elven-child]

I swear to god discussions about sexual assault bring out the most brain dead and lazy takes from people who don't want to believe the victims, because anyone who's ever been raped, assaulted, told a sexually charged and inappropriate comment, catcalled, you name it, knows how hard it is to prove it happened and if people just LISTENED for one goddamn minute they would understand.

sexual assault is most often committed by people the victim knows so unless we all start wearing full body armour made of cameras 24/7, it's going to be near impossible to prove cases like that. and even when it's a random occurrence... attackers know how to hide. they're not stupid.

far from a drastic example but when I was working as a waitress (two/three months after turning 18 (and I just wanna say for the sake of the story, I NEVER looked older than I am. always younger. today I'm 25, 7 years over drinking age, and people still ask me to show my ID when I'm buying non-alcoholic beer. anyway)) I messed up an order and had to go to a table and explain to those two ~50yo men that I'm sorry and we don't have what they ordered anymore so can we substitute it with something else. one of them looks me in the eye and without missing a beat says it's no problem and as a compensation a little bit of strip-tease from me will do. I laugh uncomfortably (something for which I'm angry at myself to this day and I want to believe that today I would have snapped back and told him to fuck right off) and leave.

can I prove it happened? fuck no, the only people who heard it were me, the guy who said it and his goddamn buddy so. yeah. and like I said it's far from being drastic assault, thank god I was never physically assaulted, but it is assault. and I can't prove it for shit.

if something like this happened to you, you understand very easily how you can have absolutely no proof, and I wish people whose only contribution to discussions about sexual assault is "let's see what happens in court" would just shut up and listen for once

READING COMPREHENSION CHECK because I read one too many ignorant comments on youtube regarding the Daniel Greene case today: did I say we should sentence people without proof against them? (no) did I say you shouldn't take sexual assault cases to court (no) did I say people are not allowed to express doubt? (no, but they should take a moment to think why expressing doubt in cases like this may be fucking stupid)

[itshonestlynotme]

Uncle Moony and Siri 🌟

╰┈➤ 𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, Uncle Moony and Uncle Siri visit

[Regulus Black x Fem Potter! reader]

warnings: Fluff

It was a quiet morning at the Potter-Black household, the kind that Y/N had learned to cherish. The storm from the night before had passed, leaving behind a crisp autumn breeze that drifted through the open windows. Harry sat cross-legged on the living room floor, carefully stacking his wooden blocks, his tongue peeking out in concentration.

Regulus was sitting in the armchair, a book in one hand, a cup of tea in the other, looking as composed as ever. Y/N was beside Harry on the rug, sorting through his toys when suddenly—

BANG. BANG. BANG.

The front door shook under the weight of impatient knocking.

Regulus barely looked up from his book. “I am not answering that,” he muttered, sipping tea.

Y/N sighed, already knowing who it was. “If we ignore him, he’ll just keep knocking louder.”

Sure enough—BANG. BANG. BA—

“Alright, alright!” Y/N called as she stood up and approached the door, throwing it open to reveal a very smug-looking Sirius Black, leaning casually against the frame.

“Why, hello there, darling sister-in-law,” Sirius greeted dramatically. “Your favorite Black has arrived.”

Behind him, Remus stood with a patient smile, holding a small box wrapped in brown paper. “I told him to knock like a normal person,” he said apologetically.

“I did knock like a normal person,” Sirius said, grinning as he stepped inside. “With enthusiasm.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but stepped aside to let them in.

At the sound of new voices, Harry perked up. His little face lit up, and he scrambled to his feet. “Uncle Siri! Uncle Moony!”

Sirius let out a bark of laughter as he scooped Harry up, spinning him in the air. “There’s my favorite kiddo! Getting bigger every time I see you, huh?”

Harry giggled wildly, his tiny hands gripping onto Sirius’s robes. “Faster, Uncle Siri!”

“Not in the house,” Regulus said flatly from his armchair.

Sirius ignored him and did one more spin before setting Harry down.

Remus crouched beside Harry, handing him the small package. “I brought you a little something, Harry,” he said warmly.

Harry gasped, taking the package with wide eyes. “A present?”

“Just a little one,” Remus said with a soft smile. “Go on, open it.”

Harry eagerly tore into the paper, revealing a small enchanted book filled with moving pictures of magical creatures. His face lit up. “Wow!” He carefully flipped through the pages, watching a tiny Hippogriff flap its wings before running to Y/N. “Mama, look!”

“That’s amazing, love,” Y/N said, ruffling his hair. “What do you say to Uncle Moony?”

“Thank you, Uncle Moony!” Harry beamed.

“Anytime, little one,” Remus replied, ruffling his hair in return.

Sirius, meanwhile, flopped dramatically onto the couch, stretching his arms across the back. “So, where’s the good tea? Or—better yet—firewhisky?”

Regulus finally looked up from his book, narrowing his eyes. “It’s eleven in the morning.”

“And?” Sirius smirked. “I was up late doing very important things.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Sirius, was that very important thing a drinking contest with Mad-Eye Moody?”

“… No?”

Remus sighed. “Yes.”

Harry, still absorbed in his book, sat himself right next to Regulus in the armchair, leaning against him. Regulus instinctively wrapped an arm around the boy, holding his book in one hand while absentmindedly carding his fingers through Harry’s messy hair.

Sirius watched them with a smirk. “Never thought I’d see the day. My little brother—a proper parent.”

Regulus shot him a glare. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Sirius grinned. “It means I’m still processing the fact that you—the grumpy, brooding Black—ended up raising my godson instead of me.” He leaned forward, winking at Harry. “But don’t worry kid, I’m the fun uncle. When you get older, I’ll teach you all the best pranks.”

Harry giggled. “Really?”

Regulus scowled. “No.”

“Yes,” Sirius countered, nodding at Harry.

Y/N snorted. “No pranks today, at least. I’d rather not clean up whatever chaos you unleash.”

Sirius sighed dramatically. “Fine, fine. I’ll behave.” He paused, then grinned at Harry. “For now.”

Regulus groaned, rubbing his temple. “Why did I let you into my house?”

Remus chuckled, sipping his tea. “Because you secretly love us.”

Regulus scoffed but didn’t argue.

Y/N just smiled, watching as Harry curled up happily between them all, his laughter filling the house. Whatever storm had been outside last night, whatever nightmares had tried to creep in, Harry was safe here—with his family. Even if Sirius was a bad influence.

[layla4567]

The two of us

Johnny storm x fem!reader

Warnings: suggestive but not smut (making out), getting caught(?, english isn't my first language

Summary: After a lavish celebration party at the Baxter Building, Johnny will seek you out in your room to enjoy some alone time.

A/n: I never wrote for this character, I don't even know if he will have the same personality as Chris Evans' Johnny, but the trailer was very good and I have faith in this movie.

Words: 1k (I wanted to make it shorter but I realized I can't create short stories 💀)

Another successful mission for the Fantastic Four! Special party today starting at 8:00pm at the Baxter Building

That was the headline in every newspaper in the city. The city's most famous superheroes had defeated another villain and rescued many people without injuries or collateral damage.

And as was always the custom, a party was held for anyone who wanted to attend, and they were invited without a doubt. And you were one of those people.

As the partner of the Human Torch, the most tenuous member of the Fantastic Four, you were practically a member of the family, of course you had to go. The relationship with Johnny was not easy. He wanted to show you off to the world, God knew how much he wanted to shout from the rooftops that he was yours and you were his. But the others advised him to be more cautious since that information could fall into the wrong hands.

The only thing the world knew, or suspected, was that Johnny was often seen with a woman. At least that's what the paparazzi had captured in photos to be published in newspapers and magazines. "The Human Torch holding hands with a pretty girl!" "Playboy Johnny Storm seen walking today with a new woman" "The youngest member of the Fantastic Four in love?"

Every time you saw your face on a cover with that headline you couldn't help but roll your eyes and suppress a smile. You kept telling your boyfriend that they would find out at any moment. He would just respond with a playful smile, "let them talk." That's why you sometimes had to put up with it when you saw several girls approach Johnny for an autograph while blinking provocatively, pretending to have an innocent face. But your boyfriend didn't let you get jealous for even a second because when you got home he let you know that you were the only one in his life.

Whatever it was now, what mattered was that you were getting ready in front of the mirror for the big gala. You adjusted your fitted black dress and combed your hair into a high, messy bun that Johnny liked so much. You looked perfect. You heard a soft knock on the door, it was Sue.

"Are you ready?" she asked, opening the door slightly.

Seeing that you were already dressed, Sue opened the door a little more and smiled sweetly at you. You approached her and she motherly adjusted a strap of your dress.

"It's time to go, my brother almost bit his nails to see you"

Laughing, they left the room and started up the stairs to the terrace. All the guests were milling around, drinking and chatting. Johnny was standing next to Reed on the balcony looking up at the sky. The blond boy was drumming his fingers on the railing, impatient.

His brother-in-law put a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. "They'll be here soon, don't despair. Sue went to look for her."

Johnny nodded eagerly, staring absentmindedly at the stars. Suddenly Reed patted him on the arm to get his attention.

"Speak of the devil, here they come" he pointed towards the stairs

The younger boy turned around with his gaze fixed on you. You and Sue slowly walked up the stairs, taking your time so as not to trip over the hem of your dresses. You laughed and smiled, whispering about who knows what. Johnny could swear that when you smiled at him, his heart grew warmer. Suddenly, a small smoke began to come out of the blond's ears as he sighed in love.

You walked up to him and laughed as you blew on the side of his head "careful with that, flame"

He took you by the waist smiling, Flame was the nickname you tenderly gave him. "You turn me on, baby. You look beautiful tonight."

"So do you"

Before your boyfriend could give you a kiss on the cheek, Susana came to your side taking you by the arm. "I'm sorry little brother, I'll steal your girlfriend tonight" she laughed.

Johnny groaned in annoyance but you told him you'd be back as soon as possible as you caressed his cheek that was now burning under your sweet touch. Yes, Johnny swore that at any moment he would turn into lava if you kept going like that.

But unfortunately for him, you spent the whole party with Susan. You couldn't help it. You wanted to be with your boyfriend, but she insisted that she wanted to introduce you to her close friends and people who worked in the building. It was a custom for the fantastic family to make you aware of their social circle and businessmen. Johnny looked at you from afar with sad puppy eyes while he was surrounded by beautiful women. But in his mind, the only woman more beautiful than all of them was you.

He tried to distract himself but every now and then he would glance at you quickly to see where you were, eager to get closer to you. At the end of the meeting and after saying goodbye to all the guests, your boyfriend finally arrived at your side like an arrow, with a smile that was somewhere between silly and mischievous on his face.

"I think it's my turn to be with my beloved" he said to Sue as he pulled you closer to him and looked at you intensely.

Sue rolled her eyes in amusement, "all yours, champ."

The young blond grabbed you by the hand and dragged you running towards your room while you laughed and exclaimed that he didn't have to hurry so much. When he got to your room he closed the door behind him and cornered you against the wood of it.

"Uh uh, you don't know how long I waited for this"

Immediately afterward, without letting you speak, he crashed his lips against yours in a passionate kiss. The desire and urgency to have you was evident in the way his lips exploded on your face. Even so, he took the time to taste your mouth, which was like molasses to him. His pink lips went down to your neck as he took off his white jacket and threw it to the floor.

He quickly grabbed your thighs and lifted them so you could wrap your legs around his waist. Your hands hooked into his hair as he devoured you with his mouth like a hungry, wild animal. Little by little he approached the bed and sat down without letting go of you for a second. His face was already stained with lipstick, the same one that had run from your lips, but you didn't care, the pleasure you both felt at that moment was worth it. He began to kiss your collarbones making you sigh and twist your hips. Your hands went to his shirt trying to unbutton it while he didn't separate from your lips just to catch his breath.

When you had already unbuttoned the first three buttons, suddenly the door to your room opened and Reed Richards' face appeared, staring at you in shock. The scene was a work of art, his brother-in-law's face covered in lipstick stains in the shape of a kiss, his hair tangled and his suit shirt half open. As for you, you sat astride him, your lipstick was smeared, your bun was about to fall off and a strap of your dress had fallen but did not reveal anything.

Johnny swallowed, pretending to be calm and that nothing was happening. "Did you need something?"

Reed made a superhuman effort to articulate the word "Uhm, I was actually looking for you, it's still early and I need you to help me with some files."

The boy snorted "Fine, I'll be there in five minutes" he said to look at you again.

His brother-in-law nodded a little awkwardly and closed the door again. When you looked at your boyfriend, you were red as a tomato

He laughed softly. "That color suits you."

He kissed you again this time more sweetly, he wasn't willing to let you go. He wanted to finish what he had started. He would have time to do what Richards asked, he could even put up with Ben's mockery when he saw him with lipstick stains on his face and neck. But for now and for that night, it was just the two of you.

[hips-dont-lieculosis]

I’ve decided to try compile my top ten, post hiatus videos, don’t hate me these are just my options, some of them even I don’t understand, this will not include ongoing series so no Tik Tok vids or Phan twitter or poppys playtime because those would take up too much space, so without further ado, for your viewing pleasure, my top ten post hiatus Dan and Phil videos as of today:

#10, the power washing video, not only is it so calming and satisfying to watch but I love how real they are and the fact that Phil leaves to have a bath, he’s so me, I do love when they play a slower game and just have chats in-between game play.

#9 the don’t scream video, this one is so weirdly soothing for me, I think because I’ve seen it so many times that I know when the jump scares are so I just get to enjoy 17 minutes of dan and Phil whispering and holding each others hands, very nice very good

#8 need I say more, it’s fantastic, love seeing that in the absolutely wildest fantasy medieval scenarios they can think of they both include them being happy together and basically dying in each others arms, very cute, it would be higher if it wasn’t sponsored by that weird game but hey, the boys have to pay that phortgage

#7 DATE NIGHT??? Honestly the fact that they call each other their “partner” the entire time and dan calling out Phil for being like “no homo” it feels like they’re edging us with the hard launch, like we KNOW NOW KISS ALREADY, also the murder on the dance floor little jam sesh, yeah… love it

#6 I love them making observations about each other, the roasting is so clever and playful that it’s not super like “are they actually mad at each other? They’re so cute and it’s really feels like a married couple being like “love you but also I’m going to roast your ass”

#5 this one is a bit similar to #7 but I think it’s slightly higher because I think they both look absolutely GORGEOUS, the silk is doing something, and the content is just banging, it’s the origin of “lamp gate” plus dan just getting crunk on amaretto, good for him, I may have slight recency bias though because I just watched this video again

#4 again probs recency bias but this video is so good, lore bombs AND competition AND it’s a dan vs phil, plus they are so funny in this, dans… outburst, hardest I’ve laughed at a dan and phil video in a little bit

#3 the camera angle, hi dads, Dan helping Phil sort out his drink, chivalry, the background is gorg, they are gorg, honestly any of the dragon city sponsored videos are so good, they seem like they’re having fun, very very good video

#2 I LOVE this video, they compliment each other throughout, they’re reminiscing, they’re cringing, dan looks like a grippy sock, and even more lore bombs it’s probably my most watched video from after the hiatus

#1 the light of my life, she is so beautiful, so horny, so funny, the bits in this like the oven being kinky, love they’re so playful and the baking is successful??????? Honestly probably my all time favourite baking video

And that’s that, I know I’ve definitely forgotten a banger video and I’m going to want to change this instantly but for now, here she is, lmk if you agree, what are your top 10?

[corviiids]

akeshu girlies where they get bubble tea and akechi yaps the entire fucking time

--

“Hey, is that Akechi-chan?”

“What’s she doing hanging around the transfer student? Do you think she’s investigating her?”

“Oh my god. Do you think if I commit a crime, she’d investigate me too?”

“Perhaps I should have worn a hat,” Akechi says jauntily.

She loops her arm through Ren’s to lead her to the train station. The chatter around the school increases in volume. No hat could save them now, not that it could have before. Ren tries to sink further into her collar. If Akechi had actually wanted to fly under the radar, she wouldn’t have brought her monogrammed messenger bag.

Apparently tuning out the gossip, and transparently faking it, Akechi clicks on her phone. “Do you like milk tea?” she asks. “I feel I at least owe you a drink for drawing so much attention to you outside your school. There’s a place nearby which does an Earl Grey topped with creme brulee pudding. I quite like Western tea, to be honest. It’s fragrant. Shall we go?”

Ren hasn’t gotten in a single fucking word yet.

They get on the train. Akechi sits before Ren can even think about it.

“Oh, sorry,” she says pleasantly. “I’ve been on my feet all day. You’re lucky you can wear flat shoes, you know. I know the kitten heels don’t look too daunting, but spend a day in them… It’s murder, Amamiya-chan. But you can sit on my lap, if you like. You don’t look heavy.”

Ren shakes her head. Her knuckles are white around the loop handle.

Akechi glances up at her hand and smiles. Ren wishes she had Joker’s gloves.

“Your leggings are too big,” Akechi points out sweetly. “They tend to sag a bit at the knees. Did you know?”

Ren pulls them up again. She misses Joker’s trousers.

The milk tea shop is a hole-in-the-wall type in a quiet suburb about fifteen minutes from Shibuya station. Akechi leads Ren through the twisting streets, past a small convenience store and a stall that only seems to sell succulents. Ren nearly misses the little awning when they find it, stumbling before she can run into Akechi’s back.

“What luck,” Akechi says, “we still have an hour before they close. Have a look at the menu, Amamiya-chan, unless you’d like me to choose for you?”

Ren shakes her head again, but Akechi is gazing into the kitchen. Someone inside seems to spot her and calls, “Good afternoon, Akechi-chan! Thank you for coming back again. You’ve brought a friend?”

“I have,” Akechi says merrily. “Do you have any recommendations for me today, Shimada-san?”

“You order something new every time, Akechi-chan. I don’t know your tastes. You’d be better off throwing a dart!”

Akechi laughs. “Then I’ll get the Earl Grey,” she says. “I’d hit it subconsciously, because I like it so much.” She looks back at Ren. “My treat, of course,” she says smoothly. “Have you decided?”

“I don’t really like milk tea,” says Ren.

The cream top Oolong isn’t as sweet as the look of surprise and mild embarrassment that crosses Akechi’s face, but Ren likes it fine anyway.