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keeryhours · 13 days ago

Text

please be gentle (when you’re tearing me apart)

Eddie Munson x female! reader, Steve Harrington x reader

Main Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Steve Harrington Masterlist

Summary:

You’re in love with Eddie, Eddie’s in love with someone else. Somehow, he accidentally ends up in a relationship with you anyway.

Warnings:

(18+), SERIOUS angst, there is only pain here, hurt/no comfort or hurt/a little comfort, cheating, pregnancy, pregnancy complications, birth/c section, Eddie is really out of character and is a total dick, Chrissy is out of character and she also sucks (sorry guys), smut, fingering, protected p in v, virgin!eddie, virgin!reader, really awkward first time!

Word Count: 14.6k

A/N:

WOW okay this was totally unexpected to write. The length especially. This is just something depressing for the anti-Valentine’s Day mood. I’ve been nervous to post so I hope you enjoy! Big giant thanks to @punkrockmlchael (who made my beautiful banner again and also beta read), @the-witty-pen-name , @fizzing-imagines, @losingmygrasponreality, @writhingg , and @lesservillain for bouncing ideas and beta reading! I couldn’t have written this without you. Also ignore that there’s only dividers for half the fic, apparently you can only add 10 images to a post 🙃

dividers by @/strangergraphics

Best friends.

That’s what you and Eddie were, and always had been. Growing up as neighbors in Forest Hills, you met when you were 8 and Eddie was 10, after he moved in with his uncle.

To be honest with yourself, you had had a crush on Eddie Munson since the first time you laid eyes on him. A silly childhood crush at first, he was so cute with his curls, short at the time, and it made your heart beat fast whenever you walked to the store together for snacks and he held your hand.

He would play you all kinds of music you’d never heard before, heavy stuff that was totally new to you. You weren’t sure about it at first, but you grew to love it. When he got into D&D, he would talk your ear off about his campaign plans for hours. You didn’t mind. You liked listening to him talk. When he started Hellfire, you were the first member to join. You didn’t know how to play an instrument, but you were Corroded Coffin’s biggest fan.

Eddie was everything to you. He was the first person you went to with any news, the only one you were excited to tell anything and everything to. He took you to see every new slasher movie, bought you your first dice set. He was the first thing you thought about in the morning and the last you thought of at night. At some point, it turned into more than a crush.

At some point, you fell in love.

Eddie was oblivious. He never dated in high school, but that didn’t seem to bother him. You didn’t, either, but it was mostly because you were so preoccupied with loving Eddie. You tried dropping hints, but he never seemed to figure it out. You were too scared to just get it over with and tell him outright.

So, you remained best friends. Just friends.

—

“Are you going to prom this year?” Wayne asked, sipping his beer as he sat relaxed in his recliner. Eddie nursed his own beer, feet up on the coffee table.

“Nah,” Eddie said. “You know that’s…not my thing.”

“You should go at least once,” Wayne said. “Might regret it.”

“I doubt it.”

“I had a great time at my senior prom,” Wayne reminisced, smiling at the memory. “You should give it a shot, Ed. Why don’t you take your little friend from next door?”

Eddie shook his head. “I don’t feel that way about her.”

“You can go as friends,” he pointed out. “I’m sure she’d like that. Girl adores you.”

“I’m pretty sure she has a crush on me,” Eddie winced, sipping his beer. “I don’t want to give her the wrong idea.”

“You don’t have to marry her, Ed. Just show her a good time. You two have been so close for so long, I’m sure she would understand.”

Eddie thought about it. He didn’t want to go to prom, like at all, but he wanted to make his uncle happy. And if he had to go with someone, it might as well be you, his only female friend, right?

So, he approached you at your locker the next day at school. “Hey.”

You turned to him, your face immediately lighting up with a huge smile. “Hey, Eds.”

“I, uh,” Eddie looked around awkwardly. “I just wanted to ask if you’d want to go to…prom with me?”

Your eyes went wide, but inside your heart was thundering out of your chest. Had Eddie really just asked you out? “Prom? Really? I thought you hated prom?”

“Yeah, well,” Eddie rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s my last senior year. Hopefully, at least. I figured I might as well give it a shot. We can pre game and sneak in some alcohol. And if it’s lame, we can ditch.”

You couldn’t wipe the huge smile off your face. You were almost a little concerned at how hard your heart was beating in that moment, like it would give out. “I’d love to go with you.”

Eddie gave you a soft smile. “Cool. I’ll pick you up at 6 that night.”

You watched as Eddie left, heading in the direction of his next class of the day. You waited until he was out of sight before you went sprinting in the direction of Robin’s locker.

You found her there, taking her books out. She startled when you ran up on her, placing her hand over her chest. “Jesus. What’s up with you?”

“Eddie just asked me to prom,” you blurted out. Robin’s jaw dropped open.

“No way!” She exclaimed, her look of shock turning to one of pure excitement. “This is huge. I always knew he was into you.”

You blushed. “I don’t know. I had given up hope of him liking me back. This was so out of the blue. I didn’t even think he wanted to go to prom at all.”

“Maybe he’s just better at hiding his feelings,” Robin offered. “Either way, we’re going dress shopping. Prom is only two weeks away!”

That weekend, Robin convinced her mom to drive the two of you to Indianapolis to go shopping in the big city. You were both giddy with excitement - Robin wasn’t much of a dress girl, and she didn’t have a date. The only person she wanted to take, she couldn’t ask. You were pretty sure Vickie was into girls and Robin in particular, but Robin was still too scared to make the move. You didn’t blame her. It wasn’t like typical rejection if things went wrong. So, instead, Robin was going with a group of girls from the marching band as friends.

Her mom took you to the huge mall, which was much more impressive than Starcourt. It was huge, with a ton of different stores. You made a stop at Camelot Music first, where Robin got a new Blondie tape and you grabbed the new The Smiths record and a Metallica Master of Puppets tape for Eddie, since his had recently broken.

Next was the formal wear store. You were both immediately overwhelmed when you walked in, the racks and racks of fancy dresses as far as the eye could see. All different colors, lengths, and styles. It was…a lot.

“Well…I guess let’s get started,” Robin said, her voice unsure.

You probably tried on 50 dresses each. You and Robin giggled as you tried on the dresses her mom picked for you, big floofy pink and blue monstrosities.

“You look like a marshmallow. Like a big pink marshmallow,” Robin had commented.

“Yeah?” You laughed, gesturing towards her powder blue gown. “Well, you look like a wedding cake.”

An hour and a half into dress shopping, you were both getting tired and totally over it. You had the last gown you’d picked out in your hand, and you told yourself if you hated this one, too, you’d just say fuck it and go to prom in your ripped jeans.

You pulled the dress over your head, smoothing it down your body. When you turned and looked into the mirror, you gasped. You actually looked…beautiful.

The dark purple dress hugged your curves, pushing your breasts up and making them look much sexier (and perkier) than they really were. The skirt fell above your knees, showing off your legs. You did a little twirl, the skirt swishing around your thighs. You loved it, it was by far the best one you’d tried on.

“Are you alive in there?” Robin called from outside the dressing room, and you smiled to yourself.

“I think we have a winner,” you called back.

“Ooh!” Robin said just as you moved the curtain and walked out. You saw Robin standing in a dark blue dress that looked beautiful on her, the skirt long but flattering.

“Oh my god,” she said. “You look stunning! Eddie is going to lose his mind.”

You blushed at the mention of Eddie. “You do too!” And she did. Finally, you had both found something.

After you left the dress shop with your bags in hand, you were both feeling much happier. You made a stop at Afterthoughts, where you found some earrings and a necklace to match your dress.

You couldn’t believe you were going to prom, and with Eddie. It was a dream come true.

You couldn’t wait.

—

Prom night, you were shaking as you got ready. The dress was just as beautiful as you remembered. The jewelry you had picked out matched your dress even better than you’d hoped.

Eddie picked you up right on time. He smiled at you awkwardly when he picked you up, holding a corsage in his hand. “Hey.”

You beamed at him. “Hi. Is…that for me?”

“Oh, yeah.” He looked at it like he had forgotten he had it. “You look pretty,” he told you as he slipped the corsage onto your wrist. You blushed as you pinned the boutonnière to his black suit jacket.

“You look handsome yourself,” you told him shyly.

Eddie drove the two of you to the school. The parking lot was packed with students’ cars and even a few rented limousines. Just as you were about to get out of the van, Eddie stopped you. He reached into his glove compartment and pulled out two black flasks, handing one to you.

“This should make this night a lot more fun, yeah?” He smirked. You smiled back, before making a face as you took a sip of the burning liquid. Eddie laughed, which made you start giggling, too.

You took a photo together at the booth near the gym doors, which Eddie wasn’t super excited about. The next thing he did was head for the food, piling a tiny plate full of appetizers. You followed him, grabbing a cup of punch to help wash down the liquor in your purse.

Eddie wouldn’t dance with you until after he’d finished his flask, claiming it was stupid and he wouldn’t be caught dead dancing at prom. But by the time he finished it, he had enough of a buzz that he didn’t care. You were tipsy, too, and absolutely elated when he stood and took your hand, leading you to the floor just as a slow song came on.

Eddie playfully groaned, rolling his eyes, but he pulled you close to his body anyway. Butterflies took flight in your stomach as he placed his hands on your hips and you wrapped yours around his neck. The two of you swayed together in time to the music. You could not stop smiling. You laid your head on Eddie’s chest, tuning out the music as you listened to his heartbeat.

After prom, you headed back to the van. You’d had the best night of your life, one you would never forget. Yeah, you were both a little bit intoxicated, but you were floating on the clouds for a whole different reason.

“D’you want to come back to my place?” Eddie asked as he started the engine. “We could drink a little more, smoke a joint. Wayne’s working.”

You wanted nothing more. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

At the trailer, Eddie rolled up a thick joint as you gathered the bottles of liquor and shot glasses from the cabinet. Eddie was back in normal clothes, and you’d changed into one of Eddie’s shirts and a pair of his sweatpants that were too big on you.

Eddie sparked up the joint as you poured each of you two shots of tequila. You clinked your glasses together before downing them both. Eddie took the first drag on the joint, his eyes falling closed as he inhaled the thick smoke. He looked gorgeous like this, curls still tamed and framing his face. The smoke escaped through his perfect lips, trailing up and throughout the bedroom. He handed the joint to you, and you gratefully took it, bringing it to your painted lips. Some of your lipstick had rubbed off on the shot glasses, leaving a stain.

As the night went on, the two of you got progressively more drunk and high. By the time it was 2am, the two of you were giggling messes, listening to music over the stereo and talking about the latest campaign. Suddenly, in your drunkenly stoned haze, you remembered the gift stashed in your purse.

“Oh!” You exclaimed, jumping up to grab your small bag. “I forgot. I got you something.”

“You got me something?” Eddie asked, confused, his words slightly slurring together.

You reached into the purse and pulled out the bag from Camelot. You hoped he loved it, because now that it was in your hands, you were suddenly nervous. You turned, smiling softly as you handed Eddie the bag. “I just saw it while I was at the mall with Robin and I thought of you.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows at you as he took the bag. He reached inside and pulled out the Metallica tape, a huge grin spreading across his face immediately. “Shit! You didn’t have to do this. But it’s fuckin’ awesome you did.”

You giggled, flopping back onto the bed next to him. You laid with your head on his pillow, smiling up at Eddie from where he sat next to you. “I’m glad you like it. I know yours broke. Probably because you play it all the time.”

Eddie poked you in the side, making you laugh harder. “Shut up, Freak. You love Master of Puppets just as much as I do.”

“That’s true,” you conceded. You looked up at him, his chocolate brown eyes gazing down at you. They sparkled, like his personality was shining its way through. He had a strong nose, kissable lips. God, you wanted to kiss those lips.

Eddie had never realized how pretty you were. He always just saw you as his long time best friend, the girl who definitely crushed on him but he never saw that way. He still didn’t think he had feelings for you, but…you were pretty.

“Have you ever kissed a guy before?” He asked, pushing a section of hair off your shoulder.

You blushed at the question. You didn’t have much experience, your love life was nonexistent. But you had kissed someone, at least. “Yeah. Tommy Hagan in 7th grade.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide. “Tommy Hagan? That dickhead? You never told me that.”

You shrugged, your cheeks red and hot. “It didn’t mean anything. I got invited to Heather Holloway’s birthday party and he was there. We all played spin the bottle. It only lasted two seconds and we never really talked again.” Eddie hummed. “What about you?”

It was Eddie’s turn to look sheepish. “Uh, yeah. A girl at school, Chrissy, in 8th grade. We didn’t date or anything.”

Now it was your turn to be shocked. “Chrissy Cunningham? You didn’t tell me that, either!” He had never mentioned her. You knew it was stupid, but you were struck with jealousy at his words.

“It was nothing,” he said, brushing it off.

“Look at us,” you laughed. “18 and almost 20, and we’re still a couple of virgins.”

Eddie looked down at you, something unfamiliar swimming behind his eyes. He had never wanted to kiss you before this moment, but now... “I mean, we can change that.”

Your heart stopped in your chest. “What do you mean?”

Eddie thought about it for a moment. This could be a point of no return, a step in a direction he didn’t want to take. But in his drunk and high mind…he wanted it. He wanted you.

He leaned forward slowly, so slowly. Your breath hitched in your throat right before his lips pressed against yours. They were just as soft as you always dreamed they were, and your mind went even more hazy from his kisses.

Neither of you were experienced at all and you were both pretty intoxicated, so the kiss was a little awkward and desperate. All tongues and teeth clashing together, hungry for one another. Eddie’s hand slid beneath your t-shirt - his Hellfire shirt - trailing up your smooth skin until he reached your breasts. You hadn’t worn a bra with your dress, so you were bare chested beneath the thin shirt. His calloused fingers delicately grazed your nipples, making you shiver. You’d never been touched there before, never felt anything like this. Being touched by Eddie was so much different than being touched by your own hand.

“I love your tits,” Eddie mumbled against your lips between kisses. You hummed, arching your back into his touch.

“Feels good, Ed,” you moaned quietly, body turning into pure electricity under his wandering touch. Your own hand tangled in the curls at the back of his neck, loving the way your bodies molded together, the feeling of his body finally pressed up against your own.

“Yeah?” He squeezed your breast one more time before his hand moved to your back, sliding down your body until he grabbed your ass, pulling you into him. You gasped, feeling how hard he was through his own sweatpants. “You feel how hard I am?”

“Yeah,” you whispered back. You moved your hand to his chest, sliding it down his body until you reached the tent in his pants. He groaned as you felt him, squeezing his cock through the material.

Eddie sat up, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it somewhere on the floor. You eyed his bare chest, the tattoos adorning his pale skin. You traced a finger over the design on the left side of his chest. God, he was so hot.

His hands slid up your shirt, pulling it up and off. His gaze dropped straight to your tits, he was practically drooling. He reached for the waistband of your sweatpants next, pulling them down your body slowly, leaving you in nothing but your panties. You were grateful you picked something pretty, red and lace.

“So sexy,” Eddie moaned. He leaned forward and kissed your stomach, which startled you a little. He trailed kisses up your body until he reached your breasts, where he ran his tongue over one of your nipples before wrapping his lips around it. You moaned as you arched into his touch, his mouth, whatever he would give you.

His hand slid down your body slowly, slowly, until it reached your panties. He slipped beneath them, fingers dipping between your folds. He could feel how insanely wet you were, and it only made his cock harder.

“So wet for me,” he said. “Bet you can’t wait for my cock.”

You whimpered as he pressed a finger against your entrance. Slowly, carefully he pushed it inside, stretching you for the first time. You gasped at the intrusion, but the pain faded quickly. Eddie slowly pumped his long finger in and out of your pussy, pressing against something deep inside that felt incredible as he curled his finger against it. He added a second finger shortly after, and the stretch was more intense, but from the feeling of the size of his cock in your hand, you knew it wouldn’t even be comparable.

Eddie fingered you a little longer, getting you nice and wet and ready for him, before he removed his hand and slipped your panties off. Now bare before him, he drank you in with his hungry eyes. His cock twitched in his pants.

You helped him push them down his hips, and he kicked them off onto the floor. He didn’t have boxers on underneath, and his dick was so much more impressive once fully revealed. It was big enough that it made you feel scared even through your mind haze.

“You can take it,” he assured you, his words still slightly slurred. “I know you can.”

He reached over you into the bedside table and pulled out an unopened box of condoms. “Finally get to use these,” he laughed, taking one out of the box and ripping it open. You watched as he slid the rubber over his hard cock, tip red and glistening. You wished you could have had a taste.

Eddie got in between your legs, kissing all over your neck before meeting your lips again. His tongue pressed into your mouth immediately, attempting to distract you from the pain where he was lining himself up and slowly beginning to push inside.

You whined as he began to fill you, inch by thick inch. When he was fully seated inside he pulled back and snapped his hips back into you, making you gasp. He set a quick pace, desperately rutting into you as he chased his pleasure, his drunken rhythm sloppy and uneven.

You held onto him tightly as he fucked into you, and he groaned into your neck where he had his face buried. “Feels so good,” he moaned, not exactly caring how you felt, only worried about his own quickly impending orgasm. It was his first time and he was not going to last.

“Eddie,” you whined, “you’re so big.”

He groaned at that. “Yeah, baby? You like it?”

“Mmhmm,” you moaned, and it did feel good, but he was also splitting you in half.

“Fuck,” he hissed, “I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna fucking cum.”

He pumped into you just a couple more times before he was stilling, buried to the hilt inside you as he filled the condom. He moaned loudly, body trembling on top of you as he rode out his orgasm. You didn’t get to cum, but you were too drunk to care.

Eddie pulled out, removing the condom and tying it off before tossing it into the trash can. He collapsed onto the bed next to you, his naked body sweaty, chest heaving.

“That was…good,” you said, not knowing if it was or not. You were happy to have lost your virginity to Eddie, and the whole night had been a dream. But he hadn’t exactly cared about your pleasure. You waited for Eddie to reply, to say anything, but nothing came.

He was already snoring.

—

The unbearably bright light shining through the window around his curtains is the first thing Eddie experienced the next morning. It woke him up, but he only squeezed his eyes shut tighter, groaning as the light made his pounding headache infinitely worse. Fuck, he drank way too much last night.

He barely even remembered it. He remembered the prom, he remembered drinking a lot, doing shots, and smoking a joint. He remembered you, but his memory was hazy. How did you get home anyway? He didn’t remember driving you home after prom.

Eddie stretched, his muscles stiff. He was naked beneath his blanket, which wasn’t entirely unusual. He probably just didn’t feel like changing once he got his suit off.

Eventually he figured he should get out of bed. He rolled over and stood with another old man groan. Fuck, he had to cut back on the drinking, because he definitely felt a lot older than 19 right now.

He pulled on some boxers and a pair of sweatpants he found on the floor, remaining shirtless. Wayne would be passed out in his own bedroom after a long night of work at the plant. But Eddie was starving, and he needed something for that headache.

When he stepped out of the room, the first thing he noticed was the smell. Something delicious was wafting from the kitchen, the smell of bacon overpowering some other food scents. That was weird. Wayne didn’t cook breakfast, not the morning after a work night. He walked down the hall cautiously, brows furrowed as he neared the end of the hallway. He turned the corner, and froze.

You were there in the kitchen, expertly flipping a pancake in a pan. A plate sat on the counter next to you filled with bacon, and another pan on the next burner was cooking scrambled eggs. Oh, and you were dressed in nothing but Eddie’s oversized t-shirt and your underwear.

Oh shit, Eddie thought. What the fuck did I do?

The floor creaked as he stepped into the kitchen, and you turned around, a smile spreading across your lips at the sight of him. “Hey, sleepyhead. I made us some breakfast. Thought you could use something on your stomach.”

Eddie didn’t know what to say or do. Did he sleep with you? Oh god. He was going to be sick. “Uh, good morning. You, uh, didn’t have to do all this.”

He watched as you plated the finished pancakes and eggs. “I thought we could both use a big breakfast after last night,” you said, giving him a smirk. Oh, shit. He did sleep with you last night. He drunkenly lost his virginity after prom, to you.

Fuck. He was a fucking idiot.

You started making plates for the both of you. “I set out a water bottle and some Tylenol for you over there,” you said, nodding to the corner of the counter. Eddie took the medicine immediately, desperate for some relief from his unbearable headache. Now he wasn’t sure what was making it worse, the hangover or the knowledge of what he’d done.

He sat down across from you at the small table. He didn’t know what to say. Your friendship would never be the same after this. He knew you liked him, he didn’t like you, then he slept with you. Now he had to crush your heart. He really felt like he was going to be sick.

“Did you sleep okay?” You finally asked as the two of you ate, breaking the silence.

“Huh?” Eddie snapped back to reality. “Oh. Yeah.”

You smiled softly at him. You figured he was just still cloudy from the weed. “I had a good time last night.”

“Yeah…” Eddie said. “Me too.”

Your face lit up at that, and he could have slapped himself. He didn’t mean that. He didn’t even remember the sex. He was not doing a good job of not leading you on. “Listen,” he said, “about that-“

“It was really good,” you said. Eddie’s watched as your cheeks turned red and you looked down at your plate. “Sorry. I just meant…I enjoyed it. Being with you.”

Eddie had suspected, known even, that you had a crush on him, but this was the first time you’d ever admitted it out loud. Eddie was really going to have to stomp on your heart to put an end to those thoughts, and it was all his fault. He never should have brought you home after prom. “Look, I-“

“I didn’t think you liked me back,” you continued, rambling nervously, excitedly. “I…to be honest with you I’ve had a crush on you for years, but I was always too scared to tell you. But you never seemed like you were into me…until last night.” You giggled, covering your mouth. “I can’t believe we’re together now.”

Together?

Oh, fuck. He couldn’t do this. He could not do this. He couldn’t crush your spirit, wipe that elated smile off your face. He’d never seen you look so happy. He felt like the biggest asshole.

“Oh, yeah,” he said instead. “Um, me either.”

“I can’t wait to tell Robin,” you continued. “She’s going to freak.”

—

Eddie couldn’t believe he had gotten himself into this situation.

Sure, you were his best friend so he liked your personality, and it’s not like you weren’t cute, but he just didn’t have feelings for you in the way you did for him. But now he had slept with you and you thought he liked you back. He had somehow, some way, become your actual boyfriend.

“I thought you didn’t like her like that?” Gareth asked the next school day after prom at lunch. You were sitting with Robin today. You often bounced between the marching band table and the Hellfire table.

“I don’t,” Eddie said simply.

Gareth, Jeff, and Grant looked at him like he was crazy. “Then how…why…?”

Eddie slammed his hand on the table. “Stop grilling me, okay?”

“Someone’s cranky,” Jeff muttered, turning back to his lunch tray in front of him.

“Yeah, you’re in a pretty shitty mood to be the only one of us to lose his virginity and get a girlfriend,” Grant commented. Gareth and Jeff agreed, nodding along.

“Yeah, well,” Eddie muttered. “Would be nice if it was with someone I’m actually into.”

“Harsh,” Gareth tsked. “You should be honest with her. You’re just leading her on.”

“I can’t.” Eddie buried his face in his hands, exasperated and stressed. “It’s gone too far. She thinks I’m her boyfriend. She thinks I like her back. I can’t crush her like that.”

The other three boys exchanged a look. “So…you’re just gonna marry her?” Grant asked.

Eddie froze. That is where this would eventually lead if he didn’t turn it around. But he was scared. He couldn’t bring himself to burst your bubble. “I’ll figure something out.”

As lunch was ending, Eddie jolted when you came up behind him, wrapping your arms around his neck and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Hey, babe,” you giggled. “How was lunch?”

“Good,” Eddie said, giving each Hellfire boy a look that said don’t say or do a damn thing.

“You guys are so cute,” Robin said, holding her hands over her chest as she tilted her head to the side with a smile. “I’m so happy you’re finally together.”

Eddie felt sick. Just like he had all weekend, since the morning after prom. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m a lucky guy.”

Your whole face lit up with a smile. “I was thinking maybe we could hang out after school. Do our homework and work on the Curse of Vecna.”

Eddie groaned internally. This was such a disaster. “Sure.”

That day after school Eddie drove you back to his place. He reluctantly did his homework with you, mostly copying your answers rather than actually learning anything. Then the two of you laid on his bed and made out.

Hey, if he was going to be stuck in this relationship with someone he didn’t actually care for, the least he could do was take advantage of the benefits.

—

You spent four years with Eddie before you started noticing something was off.

It was the scent you started noticing on his clothes at first, like flowers and vanilla. You lifted his shirt from the laundry, the unexpected smell hitting you. You didn’t own anything that smelled like this, and Eddie certainly didn’t. You knew the smell of his cheap cologne better than anything, the amount of times you’d laid your head on his chest and smelled that distinctly Eddie scent. Something was wrong.

When you confronted him about it, he brushed it off. “It’s this new girl at work. Her perfume is so strong, everyone smells like it.”

You accepted the answer for the time being. But then there were other things you began to notice. A scrunchie that definitely didn’t belong to you on the floor of the passenger side of his van. A condom wrapper in the bathroom trash after you’d been out of town for the weekend. And finally, a pair of pink panties stuffed into the back pocket of his jeans that were so clearly not yours it was nearly comical if it hadn’t made you want to die.

When you confronted him about it the next time, it was with tears in your eyes and a lump in your throat. “Eddie,” you said, your voice cracking as you tossed the panties onto the floor in front of where he sat on the couch. “What are these?”

Eddie knew he had been caught. There was no getting out of it this time. You didn’t own any underwear like that, and it was the wrong size. How could he have been so stupid to have kept the panties? “I…”

“Really?” You sobbed. “You have nothing to say?”

“I’m not sure what you want me to say.” Eddie looked down at his hands. “Yeah, I’ve been sleeping with someone else.”

Even though you already knew his words were true, they still hit you right in the heart. You could feel it cracking, could feel the fault lines forming, the blood and life seeping out of it. “With who?” You asked, barely audible. You weren’t sure if you wanted the answer, but you needed it.

“That’s not important-“

“It is important,” you said. “It’s important to me.”

Eddie didn’t respond at first. He didn’t want to respond. “Chrissy Cunningham,” he answered reluctantly at last. “But don’t pull her into this, she doesn’t deserve to be-“

“Chrissy Cunningham?” You scoffed. “Eddie, we’ve been together for four years. Chrissy knows we’re together. So she was just fine sleeping with a guy she knew was taken?” You laughed humorlessly through the tears. “Wow. You guys are perfect for each other, then.”

Eddie shook his head. “Don’t do that, man, she-“

“‘Man’?” You couldn’t believe the conversation you were having. “Wow, I sure got demoted from baby fast, huh?”

He rubbed his hands over his face. “Please. I don’t wanna do this. I don’t feel like doing this.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have cheated!” You yelled back. “Why would you do this? How could you do this to me? I thought you loved me.”

Eddie mumbled something under his breath, something you couldn’t catch.

“What?” You asked. “I can’t hear you. Just fucking tell me. Why would you do this to me?”

When Eddie looked up at you, his eyes were full of anger, flames flickering behind his normally sweet doe eyes. The ones you had gazed into, taken comfort in so many times. When he opened his mouth, nothing but poison seeped out.

“Because I never loved you!” Eddie yelled, hands running through his hair to the point he was practically pulling it out. You had never seen him so upset. “Fuck! I went out with you because we were friends and I felt bad, and by the time we’d been together for months it was too late. I never liked you back like that. That’s the truth, finally.”

His words hit you like a shot to the chest. You stared at him with your lips parted, staggering gasps being dragged into your lungs. You shook uncontrollably as if it were suddenly freezing. But the tears didn’t yet fall. You felt like you might be in shock. “How…”

“How did I pretend to be in love with you?” He scoffed. “I didn’t do a very good job of it, but it doesn’t seem like you ever noticed. You were so blinded by who you wanted me to be, you couldn’t see what was right in front of you. Hey, as long as I came home and fucked you before passing out next to you, you just took it.” He laughed, a cruel, sinister laugh. “You just let me treat you like shit. Like you have no respect for yourself, or were just that obsessed with me.”

You didn’t even know who this was in front of you right now. This person who looked like Eddie, sounded like Eddie, but was spewing such horrible, hurtful words that Eddie never would. You didn’t recognize him at all. You wanted to blame his words on his heightened emotions, but you could tell everything he said was true. Especially with the cheating to back it up.

That’s not how you treated someone you cared about.

“So you just led me on for four years instead of telling me?” You asked. There was no fight behind your voice like there was in his. Only hurt and defeat. “Eddie…even before all this, you were my best friend. How could you do this to me?”

He didn’t have an answer for that. Because he was a selfish idiot coward? That was the truth. “Look, me and Chrissy- it just happened. It wasn’t supposed to, but it did. She came in to the Hideout, we got to talking-“

“And you fucked her?” You finished for him.

He just looked at you. “Yeah.”

The truth was, Eddie felt bad. He knew he had fucked up astronomically bad. He had led you on, used your body, betrayed you. Wasted four years of your life. He knew you thought he was the one, he knew you were waiting for a proposal that was never going to come. It was his fault things had gotten this far.

Maybe he thought he could fake it ‘til he made it. Maybe he thought if he pretended to be into you, eventually he would be. But that never happened.

And now you were crying, hard. His chest ached for some reason, even though he had no right to hurt for what he had done to you. He deserved to feel like shit.

He wasn’t prepared for the next words that came out of your mouth.

“I’m pregnant, Eddie,” you said, eyes squeezed shut as if that would stop the torrent of tears currently streaming down your face. There was no response. You had to force yourself to open your eyes and look, wondering if he was even still there.

He was. He stared at you, brown eyes wide, mouth hanging slightly open. “You’re- no.”

“I am,” you said, voice hoarse from crying. “I…”

Eddie shook his head. “No. No, no, no. This is not happening. It’s not fucking happening.”

You only cried harder. The pregnancy hormones had nothing to do with this; this was pure devastation, pure heartbreak. Your heart felt like it had crumbled in your chest and there was nothing left to repair even if you could.

“Let me see the test,” he said, holding a hand out.

“Why would I lie?” You asked, voice weak. You were so emotionally worn out, you felt like you could sleep for weeks. Months. Years. You wanted to.

“Because you want me to stay with you?” He scoffed. “Look, I’m not saying you’re lying, but I want to see to be sure.”

You just stared at him. Finally, you said “Fine,” going into your shared bedroom and coming out with a piece of paper with your office visit report. “I went to the doctor. Here.”

Eddie took the paper from your hands, examining it carefully. Sure enough, under “Reason for Visit/Diagnosis”, it said “Pregnancy - 8 weeks”.

“Christ,” Eddie said. He rubbed his hands over his face, like he was trying to erase the information from his brain. He was panicked. He couldn’t be a dad. Not right now, maybe not ever. He didn’t even know if he wanted kids. And with you? His soon to be ex girlfriend who he had treated like shit and didn’t love? “I mean fuck, man. What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know,” you said. Your voice was small, like all the fight had left you.

Eddie felt like he had ruined his life. For one thing, you were both still so young. That was without even mentioning the mess of a ‘relationship’ he had gotten himself involved in, the fact that it would never work out even if he wanted it to because he didn’t have feelings for you, and now he was standing here crushing his pregnant girlfriend’s heart. Like an asshole.

He was an asshole, and he knew it.

“Look,” he said finally. “If there’s really a kid-“

“There is.”

Eddie continued. “I’m not gonna abandon it. I’ll…be here. I’ll pay child support, I want to share custody, I want to be involved.”

You nodded. At least there was that, you supposed. As heart broken as you were, as much as you felt like going to sleep and never waking up again, you couldn’t bear the thought of Eddie leaving both of you. This baby deserved better.

“Look, I…I need some time. I’m gonna go stay with Wayne for a little while. Until I can get my own place.” Eddie looked at you with pity now, the news of the pregnancy dousing the fire of his earlier cruelty. “You can keep the apartment. We’ve got the guest room for the baby, unless you decide to move out.”

You just nodded again. “Okay, Eddie.”

The two of you looked at each other. This wasn’t just the end of your apparent farce of a relationship, but also of your nearly lifelong friendship. Things between you and Eddie would never be the same again. He had taken your heart you gave to him and stomped on it, spit on it.

That was the thing you couldn’t get past. He hadn’t just rejected you, he had destroyed you. The cheating, the lying. Playing you like a fucking game. Like you meant nothing not just to him, but at all. You didn’t know how you’d ever learn to trust again, or if you even wanted to. Eddie slept on the couch that night, too late at night to drive to Wayne’s.

When you woke up the next morning, he was gone.

—

Your pregnancy was difficult. You had severe morning sickness in the beginning - hyperemesis gravidarum, your doctor called it. You struggled to keep any food down, and ended up hospitalized for fluids multiple times. Your doctor was concerned and considered you a high risk pregnancy. You went from monthly doctor visits to weekly. You felt pretty sure your emotional devastation wasn’t helping your physical health whatsoever.

Eddie was helpful, at least. He called you every couple of days to see how you were doing and if you needed anything. He remembered your appointment days and called to ask what the doctor said. He shopped for your groceries for you and dropped them off at the house. It would have felt nice, if you didn’t know he was only doing it for the baby and not you, and if you didn’t know he was still sleeping with Chrissy.

You went through most of the pregnancy alone. At 16 weeks, you noticed a bump for the first time, standing in front of your full length mirror as you got ready for work. It took you by surprise, this little baby bump that seemed to have popped up overnight. You ran your hand over the skin there, surprised by how firm it felt. There was really a little baby in there.

You had an ultrasound that afternoon. You were thrilled to see the baby, one of the only things you looked forward to anymore. The technician showed you your baby, thriving and wiggling around in there. It made your heart swell. She measured the heartbeat and played it out loud, the little whoosh whoosh whoosh comforting.

Eddie came to the apartment that evening to bring you the baby swing he had bought. You were in the kitchen cooking yourself chicken alfredo for dinner, wearing a thin tank top and your short sleep shorts. Eddie let himself in, since he still had a key in case of emergencies. You weren’t surprised to hear him coming in since he’d told you he’d be over.

You heard his footsteps heading into the kitchen, then - “Woah.”

You turned from where you’d been stirring the sauce, raising an eyebrow at him. “What?”

He gestured towards your stomach. “You, uh…your…”

You laughed lightly. “The bump? Yeah, that’s new.”

Eddie walked over towards you, leaning against the counter next to the stove. He didn’t know how to feel about it. It was strange to see, and it made him feel weird in his chest. Something he’d never felt before. “It’s…it’s cute. You look cute.”

You laughed again. “I’m about to get a lot bigger.”

The two of you stood in silence for a minute. Then, finally, Eddie worked up the courage to ask - “Can I…can I feel?”

You were surprised by the question. Sure, Eddie had been pretty devoted to this baby during the pregnancy, but it still caught you off guard. “Oh. Sure.”

You turned and he walked up to you cautiously. He raised his hands, slowly moving them towards you as he looked up at you for confirmation it was still okay. Finally he placed his hands on your belly, feeling the firm bump beneath his hands. It was real. He knew it was real, but now it was real.

“Wow,” he said after a minute. “That’s…wow.” He gently rubbed the bump, in shock that that was his child beneath his hand.

“I got an ultrasound today,” you said. “Want to see?”

“Of course,” he answered immediately. He watched as you headed into the living room, already developing the slightest little waddle. He couldn’t help but smile.

You pulled the printed photos from your purse, bringing them over. Eddie gently took them from your hands. “Holy shit!” He said, laughing as he closely examined the photos. “It really looks like a little baby now instead of a blob.”

“Yeah,” you agreed with a smile. “They said we’d find out if it’s a boy or a girl at the next one. At 20 weeks.”

Eddie’s eyes darted up to you. “Really? Can I…go?”

You raised your eyebrows. “Really? You want to come with me to the appointment?”

“Yeah, of course. I want to know what we’re having. I want to be there myself.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, thinking about it. “How will Chrissy feel about that?”

Eddie’s expression hardened for the first time since he’d come over. “I can do whatever I want. And we’re not talking about her right now.”

You rolled your eyes, heading back into the kitchen to tend to your dinner. “I guess you can come, Eddie. It’s your baby too. But don’t bring her.”

“I’m not,” he assured you. You thought he’d have to be a fucking idiot to bring her, anyway. “I just want to be there.”

You felt like you couldn’t take that from him. If he wanted to be an involved father, he could. You encouraged that, in fact. This baby didn’t deserve to be born into the mess that was your relationship, or what used to be your relationship. Your issues with Eddie needed to be put aside for the sake of your child.

So, four weeks later, you waddled your 20 week pregnant self down the stairs of your apartment complex and into Eddie’s van where he sat idling, waiting to pick you up. He helped you climb in, and you waved him off when he tried to buckle you up. “I’ve got it, Eddie. I’m not totally helpless.”

“I know,” he said, “I just want to help.”

You rode to the doctor’s office without speaking, the only sounds being the heavy music playing over the stereo. You couldn’t stand it. Since the break up, you couldn’t listen to Eddie’s music anymore. Too many memories, too many associations.

When he pulled up at the office, he hopped out quickly to run around and offer you a hand as you carefully climbed down. The bump was significantly bigger already, it was in the way and threw off your center of balance. And Eddie was not about to let you fall and hurt yourself and the baby.

You had grown to know the staff at the office since you were there so often. They greeted you by name the second you walked in, looking pleased to see you. In the exam room, Eddie sat in the visitor’s chair, looking as awkward as he felt.

When the tech walked in, she barely managed to contain the surprise on her face to see Eddie with you. You had been to every appointment alone, and they knew you weren’t together with the father. But she quickly plastered a smile to her face, walking over to you.

“Are you excited?” She asked you. “It’s a big day!”

“So excited,” you giggled. “I’m ready to know.”

You laid back and lifted your shirt up and she squirted the cold gel onto your belly, your least favorite part. She placed the wand on your stomach and began moving it around. There was a screen only she could see, and a bigger screen facing you and Eddie that showed the baby.

The little wiggling baby popped up on the screen, moving all around. You smiled, relieved to see the little guy or girl was doing well. You always worried between ultrasounds that something would happen.

The two of you watched as the tech examined and measured the various body parts, making notes in your chart as she performed the exam. Then, finally, it was time.

“Okay,” she said. “Everything looks great! Do you want to know what you’re having?”

“Yes,” you and Eddie answered immediately at the same exact time. You glanced at each other, laughing lightly.

You were nervous. You weren’t sure why. You really didn’t have a preference for the baby’s sex, but this was a huge deal. This made it real, really real. The baby was about to go from “the baby” to your son or daughter. They would have a name, you would be able to shop more. This was a huge moment, and your heart thumped hard in your chest.

She moved the wand a little, looking where she needed to look. She smiled - “It’s a healthy baby girl.”

You choked out a light sob, hands moving up to cover your mouth. You couldn’t believe it. A baby girl, a daughter. Your daughter. Thoughts flashed through your mind of pink little dresses, playing dolls, dance recitals and late night dance parties. Or maybe she would be more of a tomboy, playing sports and getting dirty. You would love her no matter who she turned out to be.

Eddie stared at the screen in awe. A daughter. He was having a daughter. He couldn’t believe it. He didn’t have a preference for the gender either, but hearing it was a girl, it just felt right. Like this was the child he was meant to have, this was the perfect outcome. His body overflowed with the love he felt for this tiny person already. He nearly reached over and grabbed your hand, but thought better of it. It wasn’t his hand to hold anymore.

You left the appointment in high spirits with a stack of ultrasound photos in your hand. You kept looking them over, amazed at how much the baby looked like a baby. Just as you were about to get back in the van, you felt something move that made you gasp and nearly drop your bag.

“What??” Eddie asked, immediately by your side. “Are you okay? Is it the baby?”

You looked up at him wide eyed. “I…” You were about to say something else when you felt the movement again. You quickly grabbed Eddie’s hand and placed it on your stomach, right where you felt it.

He looked at you strangely, but kept his hand there. Then, a second later - another kick, right where Eddie’s hand lay.

“Holy shit!” He exclaimed, jerking his hand back out of instinct before putting it back. “Did she just kick?”

“I think so,” you said, an incredulous giggle in your voice.

“She’s strong,” Eddie commented with a smile. He gently rubbed his hand over the bump. “My girl. Gonna be a soccer player or something. Or just kick some serious ass.”

You laughed, your hand resting next to Eddie’s. “This has been the best day I’ve had in months.”

Eddie felt a pang of guilt at that. He knew he was the reason for your sadness, for your pain. And now here you were, giving him the greatest gift he could dream of, even if it’s one he didn’t expect. He couldn’t wait for this baby to be here.

Robin threw you a baby shower when you were 33 weeks pregnant. You were huge and uncomfortable, and still mentally a disaster. But Robin had put in so much work you were at least going to make an attempt to enjoy yourself.

She had taken you shopping for a dress, and you’d landed on a long, light pink one with a hem right beneath your breasts, the rest of the dress draped over your belly. It made you feel pretty, even if gigantic.

When you and Robin walked in, the party was already underway, your friends, family, and acquaintances mingling around, eating from the buffet table. There was a table surrounded and piled high with gifts, a rocking chair with a bow on it sitting next to it.

“Oh my god, Robs,” you said, tears springing to your eyes. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Of course I did,” she said, nudging your arm. “You deserve it, babes. You and her both.” She placed a hand over your belly, making you smile. “You’ve been put through hell this pregnancy, the least I can do is give you a good party.”

Robin led you over to the buffet table, where Steve Harrington was standing. You furrowed your brows at your best friend as you walked, and she gave you a sheepish smile and shrug.

“He’s different now,” she said. You couldn’t believe your ears. “He’s not King Steve anymore. And he helped me out a ton with this party. He’s kind of a dingus, but he’s cool.”

Steve gave you a kind smile as you approached. “Hey,” he said once you’d both reached him, standing up straight. “Congratulations. You look beautiful.”

You blushed, because you certainly didn’t expect him to say that. “I’m huge,” you said.

Steve chuckled. “Well, you’re growing a whole human. Don’t be too hard on yourself. It’s hard work.”

You were completely shocked that Steve was being so nice to you. He had never been mean to you, but he definitely saw you and Eddie as Freaks in high school, and never gave you or Robin the time of day. He really did seem different.

“Come on,” Robin said, pulling gently on your arm. “Let’s get you and that baby something to eat. It’s gonna be a great party.”

And it was a good party. You were having a good time talking with your guests, everyone wanting to feel the baby and asking you questions. The food was good, too, you thought as you filled your third plate in 30 minutes. You were having a good time.

That is, until the door opened and two guests walked in late.

Eddie walked in, looking awkward, a gift bag in hand. He knew a good number of the people in attendance hated him, and for good reason. The fact that Eddie showed up to your party wasn’t the bad part. You were on okay terms. It was the fact that he walked in, hand in hand with Chrissy Cunningham.

Your heart stopped in your chest. You hated that you still weren’t over Eddie, but it was the truth. You felt like you would throw up at the sight.

“Oh, fuck no,” Robin muttered under her breath from next to you, before she stood tall and started walking over to them with purpose.

“Robs, wait!” You called, following after her, but Robin’s long strides were much faster than your 8 month pregnant waddle. Robin was already there when you reached the three, her finger pointed in Eddie’s face.

“And what do you think gives you the right to come marching into her party with your little girlfriend?” She was yelling, fury in her eyes like you’d never seen. “What the fuck is wrong with you??”

“Robin-“ you started, but she wasn’t even hearing you.

“You are the scum of the fucking earth,” she said to Eddie. “You don’t belong here. You don’t belong outside enjoying the day. You belong in a cave.”

Eddie was looking at her with an irritated expression on his face. Chrissy stood next to him, her big eyes wide as she held onto his arm. It made you feel so much worse.

“This is my daughter’s baby shower,” he said. “I have a right to be here.”

“No, this is her shower.” Robin gestured towards where you stood slightly behind her without even turning around. “This is for her. She has been through hell, and it’s entirely your fault. The only thing you did besides ruin her life is put the damn baby in her. Good job, Eddie!”

Eddie scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Down, guard dog, this has nothing to do with you. Get out of my face. I’m here to celebrate my daughter. Not yours.”

“And you had to bring your skank with you?”

Both you and Chrissy gasped. You had never heard her speak that way before. Eddie’s eyes darkened. “Don’t talk about her like that. She has nothing to do with this.”

“She slept with you multiple times while knowing you were in a relationship. So yeah, she’s a skank, and you’re a slut too. I guess you guys are made for each other.”

“Babe, why don’t we just go-“ Chrissy said softly.

“Babe,” Robin mocked. “How cute.”

“I’m not leaving,” Eddie said, looking from Chrissy to Robin, and finally to you. “I deserve to be here. So get over yourself.”

“I think you should leave, Eddie.”

You turned as you all looked behind you, where Steve had walked up. His expression was serious, and Eddie narrowed his eyes at him.

“This doesn’t concern you, Harrington.”

“Well, it kind of does,” he said, tilting his head to the side. “These are my friends. I helped organize the party. No one would have cared if you wanted to be here, but you had to go and bring your girlfriend to rub in her face?”

Eddie was taken aback. He couldn’t believe Steve Harrington was here and had the nerve to talk to him and his girlfriend this way. He was about to say something rude back when you spoke up.

“It’s okay,” you said, your voice timid. “They can stay.”

Steve and Robin looked at you with concern etched on both of their faces. “Are you sure?” Steve asked quietly. “Robin told me your pregnancy has been complicated. You don’t need any extra stress.”

“It’s okay,” you repeated. You weren’t entirely sure if you were really okay with it, but you didn’t want drama at your baby shower. At least, not any more drama than what had already been caused.

Steve looked at you, giving you any chance to change your mind, but you didn’t say anything else. Steve looked at Eddie and Chrissy. “She says you can stay, you can stay.”

The rest of the party was admittedly very awkward. Eddie kind of felt like shit - he knew he shouldn’t have brought Chrissy here. It was the wrong move. He thought maybe it would be alright, but the second he walked in the door he knew what a mistake it had been.

When it was time for gifts, you felt a little uncomfortable. Even as a child you had never enjoyed the whole “opening gifts in front of the whole guest list” part of parties, but you knew your older relatives would find it rude if you didn’t.

You got a lot of lovely gifts - lots of girly clothes and tiny dresses, bottles, burp cloths, a baby monitor, baby soap and towels, health stuff, toys, all kinds of things. You even got some bigger items, like a high chair, a car seat, and a stroller. You were so grateful you teared up multiple times. As a single mom, you had been worried sick about how you’d afford a lot of this stuff.

When you opened Eddie’s gift, it was just a piece of paper inside the bag. You were confused, until you took the paper out and saw the photo of the crib you had been eyeing on it, and a note that he had ordered it for you. Cue the waterworks.

Chrissy’s gift was probably the ugliest baby clothes you’d ever seen in size 24m and a toy she wouldn’t be able to play with for years. You wanted to throw the gift back in her face. She did that shit on purpose.

The rest of the party went well. You managed to avoid Chrissy, or maybe she was avoiding you. You gave each of your friends and family hugs as they left when the party was over, thanking them for coming and for their gifts.

Eddie gave you a nod as he and Chrissy left. He was always so much more pleasant when he wasn’t with her. You could always tell when she was in his ear, too, because he would start stupid arguments and stress you out. You were tired of Chrissy in your business. You never wanted to see her for the rest of your life.

But that was Eddie’s girlfriend, the girl he actually liked, and Eddie was this baby’s father. So you supposed you’d have to live with her.

At 33 weeks, days after the shower, you noticed horrible swelling in your hands and feet. More than the normal pregnancy swelling. You brought it up at your doctor’s appointment, and she was immediately concerned.

Your blood pressure was through the roof. You were diagnosed with pre eclampsia and told to head straight to the hospital to be admitted.

You cried on the way to the car. This whole pregnancy had been hell, and as excited as you were to meet the baby, you were miserable. And it wasn’t time for her to come yet. You were terrified.

You drove around the corner to the hospital’s main entrance, walking inside and giving the receptionist the paper from your doctor. They had you upstairs and set up in bed in no time, hooked up to monitors and put on strict bed rest.

The first thing you did once you were settled was grab the bedside phone. You dialed Robin’s number first, filling her in through tears. She promised to be over right after work with movies to watch, wanting to make you as comfortable as possible while you had to be in the hospital.

Next, you called Eddie.

“Hello?” He answered, a laugh in his voice, and you could hear Chrissy giggling in the background. It made you feel infinitely worse.

“Eddie. It’s me.” It was obvious in your voice that you’d been crying.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, suddenly serious. “Is it the baby? Is she coming? It’s too early!”

You sniffled. “Not yet. But I have pre eclampsia. They hospitalized me and put me on bed rest until the baby is born.”

“Shit,” Eddie hissed. “Do you, uh…do you need me?”

“Can you run by the apartment and grab my bag I packed?” You asked. “Maybe throw some extra stuff in there since I’m going to be here for a while?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

The next week in the hospital was a long one. You were bored to death, even with Robin and Steve coming by every day after work and on their days off. They would bring different movies from Family Video every day, and they had bought you a collection of board games to play together.

At 34 weeks, things took a turn for the worse.

Your water broke and labor began far too early. You were in a panic. Robin had been visiting at the time, and next thing you knew, doctors and nurses were rushing in, checking your vitals and fussing over you. The contractions started immediately, coming strong and fast.

“Call Eddie!” You called to a shocked Robin, who froze for only a few seconds before dashing for the phone.

By the time Eddie sprinted through the door, breathless and mercilessly alone, things were well underway. Labor had set in fast, and the baby’s vitals were dropping. They had to get her out as soon as possible.

“We’re going to be taking you back for a C section, okay?” The doctor told you kindly, but you could hear the seriousness of the situation in his tone. “We need to get this baby out right now.”

You had never been more terrified in your life. You could not lose this baby. You didn’t care much about your own well-being, but losing this baby would kill you.

“Can I come?” Eddie asked, his voice shaking. He was equally terrified. This baby, his daughter, meant the world to him already and she wasn’t even here yet. He needed both of you to be okay.

“Yes, you’ll just have to change into a pair of scrubs,” the doctor said. “One of the nurses will bring you some then bring you to the OR. We just need to get her in there and prepped immediately.”

Eddie watched as they wheeled you from the room quickly, disappearing down the hall with an urgency that made him sick to his stomach. Just as he’d been told, a nurse walked up with a pair of surgical scrubs and a hair cap, snapping him out of his internal panic.

He went into the bathroom and changed into the scrubs, pulling his hair up into a bun and putting the cap on. He slipped the shoe covers on last. He felt like he looked ridiculous, but he really didn’t have time to think about that right now.

Inside the operating room, you laid on a table with your arms strapped down out to the side. You also wore a cap over your hair, and a large drape curtained off everything below your chest.

“Hey,” you said, sounding nice and calm and a little out of it. “You came.”

“Of course I came,” Eddie said. He stood next to you as the doctor got to work. He did not want to think about what was going on behind that curtain.

It wasn’t long before the doctor said “Here she is!” and the next thing Eddie knew, he heard a shrill cry. It made his heart stutter in his chest, he lost his breath. Moments later one of the nurses came around with the tiniest baby Eddie had ever seen, wrapped in a hospital blanket. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His child.

You gazed at the tiny bundle in the nurse’s arms. You were so drugged up you couldn’t really comprehend the moment, but you knew that tiny bundle was your daughter. Here at last. And alive, healthy. Pink skin and a head full of brown hair.

“Would you like to hold her?” The nurse asked as the doctor went to work on stitching you up. “We have to get her to the NICU, so only for a moment. I’m sorry.”

The NICU. Eddie didn’t want to think too hard about that. “Yes, I want to hold her.” Eddie held out his arms and the nurse gently placed the tiny baby in them.

She was so small. She felt like glass, like the most fragile thing in the world. He took in every aspect of her appearance, from her hair that matched his, to her tiny button nose, her little pink lips. Her eyes were closed, so he didn’t get to see her eye color.

He moved over to you and held the baby down for you to see. “Here she is,” he whispered to you. “Our baby girl.”

You smiled a loopy smile, but you could feel the love practically bursting out of your chest. “Hi, Lottie,” you said, tears welling in your eyes. “Charlotte Mae.”

Charlotte did great, and had none of the problems common in premature babies. It was a miracle, and you were so grateful.

There was a knock at your door before it opened. Robin walked in, Steve trailing behind her. They both had smiles on their faces and held gift bags. Steve held a bouquet of beautiful flowers. He wore a yellow sweater and jeans, his long hair styled. You couldn’t help but notice how cute he was.

“Hey, mama, how are you feeling?” Robin greeted, coming over and giving you a kiss on the cheek. She looked down at the sleeping baby in your arms. “Hi, Lottie!”

“We’re doing good,” you said, a tired smile on your face. Eddie had been over earlier, but had to leave when Chrissy called the hospital phone, demanding he come home. It had made your chest ache, especially when he obeyed.

“Hey,” Steve said, moving to your other side. He held up the flowers. “I, uh, brought these for you.”

“Had the idea, picked them out, and bought them himself,” Robin said, wiggling her eyebrows.

The way Steve was looking at you did something to you, something felt deep in your chest. “Thank you,” you smiled at him. “They’re beautiful.”

“We also brought you these,” Robin said, placing both gift bags on your lap. One was purple with pink tissue paper, and the other was blue with yellow paper. “Can Auntie Robs hold her now?”

“Of course,” you replied, gently passing the tiny bundle into Robin’s waiting arms. She held the baby like a natural, gently rocking her.

You reached for the purple bag first. You pulled the paper out and found a comfy pair of pajamas for yourself, and a matching set for Charlotte. There was a card inside that read, I’m so proud of you. You’re going to be the best mom ever! Love, Auntie Robs.

You almost teared up, looking at Robin. “Thank you,” you said. “This means so much.”

“Of course,” she smiled. “Now open Steve’s!”

You laughed as you grabbed the blue bag and removed the paper. Inside you found an assortment of candy, and a small teddy bear. A card inside read Motherhood looks beautiful on you. You’re going to rock it. I’m glad we’ve become friends. Love, Steve.

“How did you know I have a sweet tooth?” You asked Steve with a laugh. You couldn’t focus on his note right now unless you really wanted to cry.

“Robin,” he laughed. “She filled me in.”

Robin and Steve visited for as long as they could, taking turns holding Charlotte and helping to take care of both her and you. You were so grateful to have such support, such amazing friends.

Custody was a whole other ordeal. You and Eddie had agreed that he would get Charlotte every other weekend, starting when she was 5 months old and could take a bottle when she was with Eddie since you were breastfeeding.

It worked out, Eddie didn’t argue with you much unless Chrissy started convincing him to, as she sometimes did. He started missing his scheduled weekends, claiming plans with Chrissy. The thing is that Chrissy knew what weekends Eddie had Charlotte, and she would do this on purpose. And he just let her.

It made you so mad. Lottie deserved better than this. She deserved a father who was excited to see her any chance he got. You began to resent Eddie more and more.

It was Saturday night, and Eddie had bailed for the weekend again. He was taking Chrissy to Indianapolis to spend the weekend and go shopping. Honestly, you were in the mood for a good cry.

Not only was Eddie bailing on his visitation, but he was also pushing for more. You didn’t understand it, but you knew who was behind it. Chrissy just liked stirring up shit between you and Eddie. You were convinced she got a kick out of it.

You figured the best way to get a good cry was to go rent a sappy movie. You were sure a good romance would have you sobbing within the hour. You packed Lottie’s diaper bag, strapped her in her car seat, and drove to Family Video.

You smiled when you saw Steve behind the counter through the glass doors. He was on the phone as you walked in, but he gave you a big smile and held up a finger to tell you to hold on a second. You started browsing the movies, seeing what was available.

Steve got off the phone as quickly as possible, rushing over to your side. “Hey, Lottie,” he greeted the baby on your hip, making her giggle and reach for him. You handed her off as Steve happily took her. “So, what brings you in today? Not that I’m not excited to see you.”

You couldn’t help but smile at Steve. “Rough weekend. I need a good cry.”

He frowned. “Why?”

You sighed. “Just Eddie and Chrissy stuff. The usual.”

Steve nodded in understanding, but it pissed him off. He hated the hell Eddie and his girlfriend put you through on a constant basis. He wished he could make it better. “So you need a sad movie?”

“Yeah. Any recommendations?”

He thought for a minute. He browsed the shelves as Lottie played with his name tag. “Hmm…oh!” He reached forward and plucked a VHS off the shelf. “This one will get you for sure.”

You took it from his hands. “Steel Magnolias. I haven’t seen it.”

“Oh, it’ll definitely make you cry,” Steve laughed as you examined the tape, reading the back synopsis.

“Do you know that because it made you cry?” You teased, a playful smile on your lips as you looked at him again.

Steve blushed bright red. “Maybe.”

You laughed, poking him in the side. “Who knew you were such a sap, Steve Harrington.”

“Hey,” he said, holding up his free hand in surrender. “Chicks dig a guy who’s in tune with his emotions.”

“Is that so?”

“It is so,” Steve confirmed with a grin. You could never wipe the smile off your face when Steve was around. He was just so fun, and kind, and funny. He was a great friend, and cute, too, if you let yourself admit it.

You exchanged the tape for Lottie then followed Steve back to the counter where he checked you out. “Just one movie tonight?”

“Yeah. I pass out too early now to watch more than one.”

Steve chuckled as he scanned the tape and pulled up your account. He clicked on his computer for a few seconds before a receipt began to print. “Alright, you’re all set.”

“Thanks,” you smiled as you took the tape and receipt from him. “I’ll see you around, Steve!” You turned and began walking to the front door, ready to get home, get Lottie comfy in bed, then watch your movie.

“Hey,” Steve said, stopping you. You turned around, confused.

“What’s up?”

“Um…” Steve cleared his throat. “Would you…want to go out sometime?” His voice was nervous, like you’d never heard it before.

His words caught you off guard. You raised your eyebrows, switching the baby to the other arm. “What?”

“Go out? Like, on a date?”

You blinked at him. “You want to go on a date…with me?”

“Yeah,” he smiled nervously at you. “I’ve…been wanting to ask you out for a while. But you just had so much going on, I didn’t want to add more stress to your plate…”

“Steve, you could never do anything but make my life better. I love spending time with you.”

He beamed at that. “Yeah? Well…would you want to go on a date with me?”

“Sure,” you smiled. “I would love that.”

You finished packing up Charlotte’s bag, making sure it was stocked with plenty of clothes and her favorite toys, including the teddy bear Steve had given her, which was her absolute favorite. Eddie had plenty of diapers and wipes at his house so you didn’t have to worry about that.

You had your date with Steve tonight. He was going to be picking you up shortly after Lottie left, so you had already gotten ready. You wore a short little dress that you’d been waiting for an excuse to wear forever, your hair hung perfectly, and you had done some light makeup. You hadn’t dressed up like this and gone on a date in…ever.

There was a knock at the door right on time. “There’s daddy!” You told Charlotte, who smiled big and clapped her little hands together. You scooped her up and headed for the front door, opening it to reveal Eddie.

Eddie smiled at Charlotte, but immediately took notice of your look. “Where are you going all dolled up? Got a hot date?” He asked, a sneer in his voice.

Your smile dropped. So he was going to be like this today. “Yeah. I do, actually.”

Eddie didn’t like that. The thought of it struck an unusual and unwelcome jealousy into his chest. “With who?”

“That’s none of your business,” you said. You handed over Charlotte’s bag. “I can do whatever I want. You cheated on me, remember?”

He didn’t acknowledge your second comment. “It is my business if you’re bringing my daughter around some guy.”

You stared him down. “Well, you bring your mistress around our daughter, so I don’t think you have the right to say anything.”

Eddie’s eyes darkened. “Chrissy is my girlfriend.”

“Sure.” You turned to Charlotte, smiling at her. “I’ll see you Sunday, baby girl. I love you so much.” You gave her a lingering kiss on the cheek before handing her off to Eddie. “I’ll see you Sunday.”

Eddie left, and you sighed. You took some deep breaths, trying to calm yourself. You would not let Eddie ruin this night. This was your first time being asked on a date, and you were going to have a good time.

It was about 15 minutes later that Steve picked you up. He looked handsome, wearing a button up shirt and jeans. He held a beautiful bouquet of flowers that he handed you as you opened the door.

“You look gorgeous,” he said, and you could tell from his voice that he truly meant it. You blushed deeply as you took the flowers.

“Thank you,” you smiled. Steve followed you into the apartment, stepping over toys as you walked into the kitchen. You grabbed a vase and filled it with water, placing the flowers inside.

“Where are we going?” You asked as you walked with Steve to his car. He held the passenger side door open for you, and you smiled at him as you slid in. He was such a gentleman.

“I was thinking, dinner and a movie is too lame, too cliche. We watch movies all the time. So,” he gestured into the backseat, “I packed us a picnic, and got us tickets to see David Bowie in the city tonight.”

You stared at him, blinking. “I…no you didn’t.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, I did. I know you’re a big fan, and he was performing nearby, so…”

“Oh my god!” Your heart was beating out of your chest, you felt like it would explode. “Steve. Oh my god.”

Steve was very proud of himself for this one. He knew you’d freak out, but your reaction was even better than he hoped. “That’s why I asked you out tonight specifically. I, uh…already had the tickets.”

You quickly swiped a falling tear off your cheek before it could mess up your makeup. “Steve Harrington, I think I’m in love with you.”

That made Steve’s heart swell. Because he felt the same way about you.

Steve drove the two of you to the park, where you found a spot next to a large tree. He laid out the blanket and sat down the picnic basket he’d packed full of all kinds of foods. You ate together, laughing and joking and having the best time. But you couldn’t shake the buzzing excitement in your belly from the news of the concert.

It was a couple hour’s drive to the city, but it was worth it. The show was incredible, everything you dreamed seeing David Bowie would be. Steve held your hand, which sent electricity through both of your bodies.

When Steve brought you home, he walked you to your apartment door. Butterflies were flying in your stomach, still ecstatic from the most incredible date you ever could have imagined.

“I had a great time,” Steve said.

“Me too,” you agreed. “Truly. Do you…want to come in? The night doesn’t have to be over yet.”

A smile spread across Steve’s lips. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Steve followed you in. As you turned to him, you saw something behind his eyes. Like he was thinking, considering something. He lifted a hand and caressed the side of your face with the back of his hand, thinking he had never seen someone as beautiful in his life. “Can I kiss you?”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “I…yes.”

Steve smiled lightly. Then he was leaning in, closer and closer, until his lips pressed to yours.

Sparks flew. You kissed him back eagerly, and he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your body flush to his own. The kiss turned heated, Steve pressing your back up against the wall as he kissed you passionately. His hands began sliding up the skirt of your dress.

“Steve,” you said, breathless against his lips. “Take me to my room.”

The next morning, you woke up next to Steve. He had his arm around your waist, cuddling you close. You were both naked. As you awoke, Steve did, too, pulling you closer to him and nuzzling his face into your neck. “Don’t go,” he mumbled.

“I’m not,” you giggled. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Steve asked you to be his girlfriend that morning. It may have been a little soon, but you happily said yes. You knew Steve well, he was one of your best friends. You knew you wanted to be with him.

Robin was ecstatic when you told her the news. “About time!” She exclaimed, throwing her arms up. “Took you long enough, dingus.”

You knew you had to tell Eddie. As much as you dreaded it, he deserved to know as the father of your daughter. You waited a couple of weeks into the relationship, wanting to be sure things were going to work out before you brought it up. But your relationship with Steve was incredible, a kind of joy you never thought you could experience in a relationship.

Eddie came to the door to drop off Charlotte one Sunday evening. He was a little early, and Steve was over.

“Shit,” you hissed as he knocked at the door. “I guess it’s now or never.”

You answered the door, loving how Lottie’s face lit up at the sight of you. “Hi baby!”

“Mama!” She called, reaching for you. You took her from Eddie’s arms, sitting her on your hip. “Dada!” She exclaimed next, only she wasn’t looking at Eddie.

Steve had come up behind you, and Lottie was pointing at him. Your mouth dropped as Eddie’s face turned to one of pure anger. “What the fuck?” He said.

“I swear, I don’t know what that’s about. She’s never called him that before,” you explained quickly. Honestly Eddie deserved to have his feelings hurt, but you knew how destroyed you would be if Lottie called Chrissy Mama.

“What is he doing here anyway?” Eddie asked, gesturing towards Steve. “I don’t see Robin here. Do you have a life of your own, Harrington?”

You looked between Steve and Eddie. “Ed…me and Steve are…together.”

The words hit Eddie like a punch to the gut. He figured you would date eventually, but maybe he just got spoiled by you being single. He didn’t expect the pain of finding out you had moved on. And with Harrington? “What?”

You pursed your lips, knowing this had the potential to go badly. “We’re together. Steve is my boyfriend.”

Eddie just stared between the two of you. Then, he laughed, a sinister sounding chuckle. He knew he had no right to be pissed, but he was pissed. “Well, isn’t that just great.”

“Eddie-“

“No,” he said, holding a hand up. “You don’t owe me an explanation. You do whatever you want. Enjoy your life with Steve.”

And with that, he left. He didn’t even tell Charlotte goodbye.

Things with Steve were incredible. He was the best boyfriend you could ask for, and he was amazing with Lottie. She loved playing with him, and he could sit on the floor and play with her for hours without getting bored.

You had been together for a year and a half when he surprised you with a trip to the beach. You spent the weekend laying out in the sun, playing in the ocean, making love until the early morning in your suite.

On the last day there, you were walking down the beach hand in hand. As you were looking down at the sand for seashells, you noticed some writing in the sand. You let go of Steve’s hand to walk over and read it.

Will you marry me?

“Steve!” You exclaimed. “Look, someone proposed! How cute-“

You froze when you turned around to see Steve on one knee, holding a beautiful ring in a black velvet box. You gasped, tears immediately falling. You always were emotional.

“Will you make me the luckiest guy in the world and marry me?”

Eddie came home a little early from work one evening, and immediately knew something was wrong. He could feel it in the atmosphere before he even heard the noises. Those unmistakable noises.

He crept down the hallway, careful not to make any noise. Not that he thought he’d be noticed, anyway. Not with what he deeply suspected was going on.

He made it to the bedroom he shared with Chrissy. The door was slightly ajar, and he took a deep breath before pushing it open all the way.

Chrissy and her ex, Jason Carver, were in his bed, absolutely going at it. Eddie knew this was what was going on from the moment he walked into the apartment, but seeing it, he still felt like he’d be sick. Chrissy turned at the sound of the door opening and screamed, covering herself and Jason, who didn’t really seem to give a fuck at all.

After Jason left and Eddie was left alone with his girlfriend, he demanded the truth. She admitted she had been sleeping with Jason again for months.

Naturally, Eddie kicked her out. Then, he was alone.

Alone with only his thoughts, he had too much quiet time to think. And what he found himself thinking about was you. Far too often. He thought about your relationship, how he fucked everything up, including your lifelong friendship. Sure, he got his beautiful daughter out of it, but he could have treated you better. He should have treated you better.

He also thought about the way you’d treated him. The way you had loved him. How you were the only woman who had ever loved him, besides his mom all those years ago. How he had taken you for granted. He thought about how he would feel if some asshole treated Lottie the way he treated you. The thought itself made him furious.

Because now that Chrissy was gone and he was no longer blinded by his lifelong crush, he was realizing something:

Eddie loved you.

Not just as the mother of his child, or as a platonic friend, but love love. The kind he had been too blind to see back in high school, back during the days of your relationship.

He hated himself now. He had fucked up more than was even fathomable. He had thrown you away, for Chrissy. You were so much better than Chrissy in every way. Prettier, smarter, funnier, kinder. And you had treated him well.

Eddie dwelled on it for months. He grabbed his mail from the mailbox as he headed into his trailer one day, flipping through the various bills and junk mail - until he stopped at one with your name on it.

He dropped the other pieces of mail in his rush to open that one. He nearly ripped it in half getting it open, and as he pulled out the card inside, his blood ran cold.

You are cordially invited to the wedding of Mr. and Mrs Harrington.

It was too late.

tags

@ali-r3n @crispystarfishhottub

466 notes · View notes

haologram · 2 months ago

Text

between you and me ❄️ l.c [m]

↳ part of the winter with you collab! synopsis: everything you've ever done, chan has been by your side - either egging you on or talking you off the ledge. after a rough year of studying, failed relationships and having chan be the insistent angel on your shoulder, the holidays roll around - and let's just say you're not too happy about it. genre: holiday au. bffs to exes to lovers (what a doozy); angst, fluff, smut. pairing: lee chan x fem!reader word count: 40.4k (DON'T LOOK AT ME!) rating: 18+. minors do not interact. warnings: swearing, references to smoking weed, alcohol, food, use of sex as a general coping mechanism, jealousy. general exes who are still friends type of dynamics. mentions of misogynistic views, mentions of having kids, mentions of seasonal depression. chan is a bit of an asshole but redeems himself (and is overall just a good person but yk...) reader has a strained relationship with her mother. reader deflects a lot, chan cannot stop running his mouth. mingyu and sooyoung make several appearances. mutual pining. smut warnings: (let's take a deep breath for this one!) multiple scenes because they're fucking freaks (3 total!) alluded virginity loss (not depicted, backstory). teasing, frottage, heavy petting, bitiing, chan cums in his pants once. oral (m&f. rec.), face sitting, ab riding, subtle body worship (m&f. rec.), fingering (f.rec), pussy slapping (i know i know). nipple play (m&f. rec.), hair pulling, spitting, cumplay (just...okay?), switch!chan x switch!reader, chan likes it when she's mean, whiny!chan (can i get a hell yeah!?). slight strength kink, breeding kink, d*ddy kink (save me), love (?) kink (?). dirty talk (HELP. ME.), pet names (baby, princess, babe, etc.,) unprotected sex (don't do this), missionary (wouldn't be a haologram fic without missionary and body worship but i digress.) i think that's it! what to listen to: meddle about - chase atlantic ; habit - seventeen ; to die for - sam smith ; wait - dino ; heart - dawn ; scared to live - the weeknd ; fantasy - bazzi ; don't leave me - intro ; kiss it better - rihanna ; all mine - plaza ; the party and the after party - the weeknd ; always - daniel caesar ; fade into you - mazzy star. author's note: i fear i cannot shut the fuck up! yet another behemoth for caratblr, loverboy!chan save me please. special thanks to my dearest @diamonddaze01 for betaing this big ass fic an encouraging me to not give it up when i was truly losing my mind. thank you to @camandemstudios for allowing me to be in yet another collab of theirs. as always, dedicated to the most devoted dinonara i know, @bitchlessdino. snowflake dividers are by @/strangergraphics here on tumblr! enjoy the wild ride and happy holidays, everyone!

DECEMBER 22, 4:32PM.

Your car horn cannot take another beating, and you're not sure Chan's ears can take another annoyed, muttered string of expletives from your mouth – confirmed the moment he yells at you to pull over. You argue back that you're in the middle of the expressway and everyone around you is going over sixty miles an hour, but he doesn't care. You mumble profanities as you merge several lanes, pulling over only for him to tell you to stay inside and he'll get out.

"You've been driving me up the fucking wall since we left the apartment. What stick do you have up your ass that you're upset about everything!?" He practically slammed your car door as he got into the driver's seat, swatting your bare thigh as you climbed over the console to the passenger side. You scoff, batting his hand away from your legs as you plop into the seat.

"Nothing, Channie. I'm fine." You grit, yanking the seatbelt a little too hard for him to think you're fine. He sighs, resting his forehead against the steering wheel before he turns to look at you.

"Y/N, I've known you since we were in diapers. I know when something is bothering you, you're not weaseling your way out of this." What was wrong with you? You're sitting in your old beater car with your life-long best friend, wearing his old cheer shorts and his t-shirt and probably his socks as well. You're on your way home during an unusually warm winter, hence the shorts, and you're nursing a cup of his infamous hot cocoa. The one with actual mini marshmallows, none of that Swiss Miss bullshit.

You'd had a great cheer practice before the break ended, with your coach telling you and Chan to please rest during the holidays – it wasn't exactly either of your fortes. She knew the two of you went home for the break together, and you'd likely be practicing stunts in your parents' basement – but you knew exactly why you were upset and it had nothing to do with cheer and everything to do with the fact that your best friend has had the best years of his entire life while you're being a sulky baby.

You cross your arms, the drawstrings of your hoodie yanked by the seat belt as Chan turns in his seat. "Everyone has bad days, Y/N." "You don't." You mutter, crossing your legs at the knee before you feel Chan's fingers pinch your cheek. "Yes, I do. I don't know where you got this idea that I'm perfect. I'm flattered, but I'm just as human and clumsy as you are." "Yeah, well…shut up." You huff, feeling Chan press his lips to your temple. "Don't be so sour. We're on vacation, let's enjoy it. It's our last one before we graduate, isn't that exciting?" It's not. It makes existential dread weigh on your shoulders, and it's so stupid. It's stupid dread, rooted in misogyny and lies and comparison that is the thief of joy. It makes you hate him, knowing that Chan doesn't have to worry about any of this but you do simply because you have some stupid biological clock that works AGAINST you.

You know once university is over, your parents will start to ask about marriage and kids. You know that they'll bring up Chan, over and over until you tell them for the third year in a row that you and Chan tried it and it just didn't work.

Freshman year of college between you and Chan has to have been one of the strangest years yet. He had rushed a frat and you helped him move from his dorm into the house – and the brothers made eyes at you until Chan lied and said you were his girlfriend. None of them bought it, so much so that Chan had confessed about it and you were so wide eyed he was scared your eyes would fall out. Once the initial shock wore off, you shrugged and agreed you'd be his pretend girlfriend – that it would definitely get you out of some bullshit.

Simultaneously, it got you into some bullshit.

It was a few weeks before winter break, and you were both drunk at your first frat party. The two of you had been locked away in his room getting high earlier that day, and neither of you were in the condition to interact with anyone else or even go downstairs for more drinks – so you just laid in his bed and giggled about nonsense. He was propped up on his elbow, telling you about how the older brothers had made him pants the president of Alpha Phi and you were just staring off into space while you nodded along.

Until you looked at Chan a little too closely, your head on his pillow as he pushed your hair out of your eyes. He smiled down at you, his fingers tracing the shell of your ear as he continued talking when you sat up and anxiously pressed your fingers to your pulse point, having felt your heart rate spike at just the slope of his nose. Everything felt way too hot and intimate for two best friends.

He'd asked if you were okay, if you needed water – assuming you were too crossfaded to prevent the panic attack that seemed to creep on. You shook your head, screwing your eyes shut as you flopped back down and tucking yourself into his chest. He'd assumed you wanted to be held, so he threw your leg over his waist and ran his fingers through your hair, murmuring subtle praises as you tried to regulate your breathing – but the smell of the weed and your best friend's cologne was just too much and you wound up pushing him away.

"Channie, get away from me!" You'd whined, shoving him back and attempting to pull your sweater over your head. You failed, and he laughed, yanking it over your head the rest of the way. "Are you hot? Should I open the window?"

"You should kiss me, you fucking idiot. How can you tell your entire fraternity I'm your girlfriend and you won't even kiss me?" You'd poked your finger into his chest, your t-shirt rumpled from the sheer force of your sweater coming off. He blinked at you, lip jutted out in a pout. "Well, how am I supposed to know you want me to kiss you when you literally just told me to get away from you?"

"I'm your fake girlfriend! I'm getting zero play from anyone else because they think we're a thing!"

"Aren't you a virgin?" He asked, sitting up as you smoothed your shirt over your belly, lying back down on your side, propped up by your elbow. "Aren't you? You're my best friend, it's not like we'd hump and dump each other. If we're bad, we can just learn."

Chan had been truly appalled at your words. The two of you had never crossed into this territory, despite knowing everything about each other. You'd been each other's first kiss back in high school, but that was fully a dare from your other friends and neither of you spoke about it again. He dated around with other girls and you had one boyfriend that was shitty, but it was always just the two of you at the end of the day.

"You want me to…" "Only if you want to."

"Are you joking?"

You hadn't been, and you proved that by tugging Chan down by his collar and pressing your lips to his. He immediately reciprocated, pushing you onto your back and shoving your thighs apart to settle between them. He wasn't a bad kisser at all – a little too skilled for your shy touches, but you quickly caught on to his movements as you felt him grow hard.

"We don't have to do this at all. You know that, right?"

"Chan, I want you to."

He'd blushed slightly as you flipped the two of you over, letting him sit up with you in his lap and quickly pulled your top off. His hands were warm and nervous, but you kissed him again and it felt like everything fell into place.

The first round was slow and gentle – you were on top, and he kissed all over your chest and face as the two of you got into it. By the third time, you were covered in nips from his teeth and his saliva as he folded you in every position imaginable. He was a young guy with a Costco box of condoms and the girl of his dreams in his bed – he had to commit this to memory. The two of you went at it like starved, depraved lovers – it was nearing seven in the morning by the time he reached into his nightstand and the box of condoms was empty. You were both sober by then…and the reality of your decisions began to sink in as you let him sink into you, raw.

"Y/N…" He whimpered into your neck, entirely too sensitive for this to be happening but you only mewled in response. "Feels so good, Channie, please…"

You only spurred him on, clawing at his back and whining his name as your walls overstimulated him. Every single part of his body felt like it was on fire under your touch, and he relished in the way your teeth sunk into his shoulders and neck as he brought you over the edge repeatedly.

"Shit, b-baby…I'm gonna.."

You only wrapped your legs around him, pulling him into you deeper as you kissed the words off his tongue. He tried to kiss you back, he really did – but failed miserably as he came inside you, hips involuntarily working the two of you through your shared orgasm. You kissed him messily as he came down, feeling his hands on your cheeks as he slowed you down, before pulling away fully.

"We need to clean up." He muttered, resting his forehead against yours, your eyes closed as you nodded tiredly. "I don't think I can get up."

You hadn't been able to – Chan wound up carrying you into his bathroom and holding you between himself and the wall in order to help you shower. You were so tired your eyes remained closed for the majority of it all – something Chan was grateful for because he just couldn't stop roaming his eyes all over you.

Thankfully, it'd been a Saturday the day before – so there was no reason for you to leave his bedroom. He gave you the cheer shorts he usually wore, and tugged an old sweatshirt over your head while also stripping his bed of the sheets. He threw your clothes in with it in the wash – and returned to see you asleep. He had so many questions, just watching as you snuggled into his pillow as he sank onto his bed, reaching for his phone to order delivery – only for you to tug him back.

"We can eat later."

"When can we talk?"

You peeled your eyes open for that one, looking at him tiredly.

"You're my boyfriend, Chan. Couples have sex."

"But–"

"I love you. Now, hold me."

And he did. He laid down, and you draped yourself over his chest. His hand went under your sweatshirt, rubbing small circles into your back as the two of you fell asleep. But his mind never strayed from how confidently you said those three little words.

That was one of many nights between you and Chan. You were referring to each other as significant others, subconsciously going on dates, and fucking like there was no tomorrow. He'd get you flowers, tell you how pretty you looked. You'd fluster him with comments of how handsome he was, and you'd spend hours slow-dancing together in his bedroom if you weren't just basking in each other's presence.

Neither of you spoke about feelings, but rough whispers of I love you slipped out often during sex, softer ones when he dropped you off at your dorm (that you were hardly at because you spent all your time with him), teasing ones when he just felt like it. You found it harder to say after the first time – kissing him in response, feeling your cheeks grow hot as he looked at you with said love in his eyes. Sometimes you'd mumble it, only loud enough for him to hear.

You loved him too. You didn't know when it became romantic, you'd never been in love before. But, perhaps if you'd looked deeper – you would understand that feeling like you can hardly breathe from pure excitement when he's around is a tell-tale sign of being absolutely enamored.

Perhaps, you said I love you first – because you were scared that if you let it fester inside you, it'd become too overwhelming.

It did, anyway.

The two of you went home that holiday break and tried everything possible not to tell your parents anything. Chan's family owned the house next door and only used it when he was home – but you knew you wouldn't be able to sleep separately after weeks of constant skinship. You tried for the first three days – only for Chan to sneak into your bedroom and stuff your panties in your mouth to keep you quiet.

Everything had been going smoothly until your parents found out – spotting a hickey on your collarbone that hadn't been there when you arrived. Your mother was the first to question you – her interrogation light over dinner with Chan and his parents.

"So…find any cute boys?" She asked as she poured you a glass of water, one you immediately reached for as you choked on your bread. Chan's eyes widened as they fell on you, spotting the bruised mark on your skin under your t-shirt from across the table. "Mom, what gives? That's so embarrassing." "I sort of asked Chan the same question." Mrs. Lee shrugged, before her hand reached to tug on her son's sweater. "Then I saw this and got my answer."

Two hickies on his chest, and Chan's cheeks burned beet red as he wiggled away from his mother. "Can we not do this?" He asked through gritted teeth, and you only covered your face with your hands as your father snorted.

"We always figured the two of you would end up together. It's just the way it goes sometimes. Friends before lovers is a good way to start a beautiful relationship." He nods, patting your back gently to ease your discomfort. You gave Chan a glare through our fingers, only for him to gawk at you as if you were blaming him for the entire thing.

"We're glad it's you, Y/N, really. I was always worried my Chan would get his heart broken by someone ruthless." Mrs. Lee pinches her son's cheek, making him groan as he moves away. "This is so embarrassing, stop it!"

"We've only been together for a few weeks, so can we drop it?" You mumbled, stabbing your fork into a meatball as your mother glanced your way. "...Sure, honey."

Your parents didn't bring it up again for the rest of your vacation, but things felt a lot more breathable after. You and Chan went out on your own several times – dinner, stargazing, a few hikes. You kissed eagerly behind closed doors, but kept your touching to a minimum in front of siblings and parents. He held your hand as the New Year's ball dropped, and kissed you moments after when his parents looked away. You felt your stomach fill with butterflies at the tender touches, but started feeling antsy as days continued and you couldn't have sex.

He offered to take you on a drive after your parents went to bed, and you wound up fucking in the backseat of his car that night to the sound of Meddle About by Chase Atlantic. It was by far the most desperate you'd ever seen him, and the night you accidentally discovered a small kink of his – one the two of you swore not to speak of again after. Or rather, he asked you not to – but what kind of girlfriend and best friend are you if you don't tease him about his little ticks? You both returned to campus a few days later, and Chan managed to get you naked in his bed before you even unpacked your things. You'd decided to forego buying condoms on the way home to avoid the temptation, but just looking at you was enough to get Chan going and he had no idea how to make you understand that.

Until the spring semester started and the two of you got slammed with essay after essay, lab after lab, pop quiz after pop quiz. It was February by the time the two of you got to spend more than an hour alone – and you had nothing to talk about. You just kissed quietly, feeling each other up for hours until your underwear was soaked through with your arousal and Chan was painfully hard.

"We should break up." You murmured against his lips, and he nodded. "We should. After this, though." "After." You agreed, not knowing that Chan's chest had tightened at your words. Not knowing that he hoped just feeling you around him would mend that pain he felt, and not knowing he hoped he could get you to stay through the night – and break up in the morning. Not the night of his birthday, not the first night he gets to have you again after missing you for ages. Not the day that seems to have completely slipped your mind.

And, it worked. Yet another large box of assorted condoms and half a bottle of unnecessary lube later, you were tucked in his bed again. In his cheer shorts, in his shirt, and with dozens of love bites littered around your body. You kissed him as he slid into bed next to you, your arm draped over his chest as you began to talk.

"I'm sorry if it's sudden. You're my best friend and I don't want to lose you, but we just…don't have time." You had muttered, and Chan fought back tears as he nodded, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. "I don't want to lose you, either. But if we break up…we have to stay friends, Y/N. We have to." He meant it. Even if it meant he had to break his own heart by spending time with you and not being able to kiss you, caress you, love you, he meant it. You were all he knew – his first kiss, his first crush, his first fake-girlfriend. His first real girlfriend, despite having dated around. His first time having sex, making love, and everything in between. The first woman he'd learned inside and out, and the only woman he wanted to know that way.

If time was the issue, he'd wait.

But you didn't know that.

Shortly after your relationship ended, Chan found himself restless. His hand wasn't enough anymore, but neither was anything else he tried. He lost interest in porn easily and even wound up sneaking peeks at your Instagram for some sort of relief. He resorted to asking one of his frat brothers what he should do – and Wonwoo calmly looked up at him and said, "You fuck someone else."

Chan hadn't been sure what to do with that information. He wound up going to cheer practice early that day, only to find you doing stunts with Minghao, a fellow spotter and one of his frat brothers – his hands tightly gripping your waist as he threw you up in the air. He catches you swiftly, and Chan only feels his cheeks heat in embarrassment as you eagerly compliment Minghao on his skills, your hands gingerly wrapped around his biceps – your nails still the soft pink he chose not even a month before.

It was too much touching for Chan's taste, and he wound up turning right back around and skipping practice, sneaking out of the gym before either of you could see him. When Minghao arrived at the frat after practice and saw Chan in the kitchen, he asked him where he'd been – that you'd asked for him and wanted him to help Minghao with your stunts. Chan simply clicked his tongue and shrugged, "Was busy. She can figure it out." Minghao had been a bit taken aback by his comment, but said nothing as Chan practically pushed past him. There was a party a few days after that, with both you and a bunch of random girls in attendance – mostly girls from the fraternity's sister sorority. Chan had one up in his bedroom within the hour, and another two hours later.

You went home after seeing him take the first one upstairs.

After that happened, and Minghao spoke to you about Chan's behavior about the entire stunt situation, you felt a shift in your friendship. Chan became a serial monogamist for a long time – none of his flings lasted longer than two weeks, and he kept them at arms' length. He never mixed business and pleasure – the cheer girls were strictly off limits, much to their dismay.

But you were the person he drunk texted. Saying he misses you and wants to hang out – and you'd hang out. You'd go pick him up and take him back to your dorm (later, your apartment) and watch movies, get drunk and fall asleep on your couch. He never made a move on you, and you never made a move on him because you were just friends.

So you shoved it all down. You watched him bag girl after girl, you watched him win trophy after trophy. You watched him make the Dean's list every semester, you watched him build unbreakable friendships, you watched everything he touched turn to gold and it made frustration fester inside you.

You struggled a lot after the breakup – from branching out and meeting new guys to your grades tanking just a bit – and it made you feel pathetic. You slept with one other guy, a guy from a different cheer team. You met him at a competition, and it was in the next city over, so you and your team had to get a hotel. You and Chan naturally roomed together…only for Chan to hit it off with a girl from another team, and it led to a heated argument between you and him to see who got the room for the night. He wound up storming out and staying with her, only to come back in the early morning to a locked door and the sound of you and the guy going at it.

Neither of you spoke about it. You didn't speak on the ride home, either – and you ignored him for a week until he texted you and asked if you wanted to get drinks. You agreed, and he apologized for his behavior. You only nursed your cosmopolitan, and accepted his apology with the condition that he buy you an appetizer.

An order of mozzarella sticks and a thing of marinara later, you forgave him. The two of you danced around conversations for a bit, before he offered you a lift home. You gracefully accepted, and he dropped you off at your apartment with a hug goodbye. A hug that lasted longer than any had since the breakup, and you felt…slightly put back together.

Things seemingly settled after that.

Fast forward to senior year – you and Chan are still inseparable. You're co-captains of your cheer team, he's the vice president of his fraternity and you find yourself there every weekend to help with events if the two of you aren't at a cheer competition. He holds your hair when you throw up and he helps you glue on your false lashes for competition nights. He drives you to places when you're too tired but still want to go out, he tutors you for Organic Chemistry and gives you gummy bears as rewards for getting questions right.

Chan is your best friend, and he makes sure everyone knows – including the girls he gets in his bed every few nights.

Your eyes still lingered on him at parties – the way he'd grind against girls, the way he'd never done with you because you weren't a stranger to him. He'd seduce them with his confidence and kiss them, but never in the way he kissed you. You could see it, how shallow it was to him, before he'd begin moving them towards his bedroom.

But, even now – you miss him. Lonely nights in your bedroom turned into lonely nights in your shared apartment with him, having been convinced to move into a two-bedroom with him as a reward for making it to senior year of university without any major fuck-ups. However, you felt like a major fuck-up – because now this meant he'd bring girls to the shared home.

He hasn't, yet. But, he will. You're sure of it.

It makes your stomach turn to think about it.

"See how much calmer things are when you're not the one driving?" Chan's voice breaks you out of your thoughts, and you scowl. "Shut up." He only rolls his eyes, but you feel your thighs clench at the way he looks when he drives. You'd gotten used to this sight in many lights – Chan driving you home from an arcade night, Chan driving you home from getting drinks. Chan driving you home from the movies, Chan driving you home from cheer practice.

Chan driving you home after that night he fucked you senseless three years ago in his backseat, whispering how good you felt around him and how he couldn't imagine a life without you in it.

You sigh inwardly at the thought of it, opting to recline your seat and cover your face with your arms. You cross your legs before feeling Chan's hand squeeze your knee, making you jolt as you swat at him. "Stop touching me, I'm sensitive!"

"Your knee is sensitive?" He teases, fingers pinching it again as you groan. "You're pissing me off, Chan."

He only snickers, his fingers brushing up your thigh before you shove it away. "Quit." "Alright, alright. At least put on some music, I need to hear something other than your whining." He holds up the aux cable, and you take it and plug it into your phone. You press shuffle on your Spotify, ignoring the way your cheeks heat the moment Meddle About by Chase Atlantic starts.

He only turns the volume up.

"You guys are home!" Mrs. Lee greets you by throwing her arms over you, and you nearly stiffen before Chan gives you a pointed look. You hug her back warmly, thanking her for being so excited to see the two of you. "How is school? Still doing well, I hope!" "Doing great, Mrs. Lee. Chan's helping me quite a bit these days." You nod in the direction of her son, who is unloading everything as you shove a stick of gum into your mouth. His arms look great in that long sleeve…he should wear it more often…

"...And your mom made that brown sugar ham you love! Isn't that exciting!?" Mrs. Lee's voice brings you back as you nod quickly, shoving your hands in your jacket pockets as the wind picks up a bit. "Yes! I'm starving, you have no idea. We survived on jerky." Your pout makes Mrs. Lee coo, her knuckles pinching your cheek as she beckons you to follow her into your house. Chan gives you a glare as he grabs your duffel, and you only blow a kiss at him as you follow his mother inside. "Y/N!" Your little sister can be heard screaming from the top of the stairs, and you smile as you turn – seeing her practically fly down them, her arm in a pink cast as she wraps it around you. "Hey, babycakes! What happened to your arm?" "Rosie took a tumble down the stairs last week, I keep telling her to slow down." Your mother appears out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel as she presses a kiss to your cheek. "Welcome home, darling."

Your sister begins to ramble about everything going on at school with her friends – that Katie has a crush on Hyunjin but Hyunjin likes Minseo and Minseo thinks Katie is too mean to join their coloring circle. All too much for you to process in one go, and definitely too much for her to get out in one breath because she stops the moment you hear Chan grunt, kicking the door open slightly to make his way inside.

"Chan!" She abandons you, and Chan lights up as she runs into him, spinning her around. "Hey, Rosie! It's been so long, oh! What happened to your arm?"

He kneels down to her height, and it makes your heart warm. Your parents definitely did not plan to have another child so late in life, but Rosie was the easiest kid ever. You remember when they brought her home – you were a junior in high school and you were ecstatic. You'd been staying with the Lees, and they all came over to meet her.

Chan was the only one who pulled you aside and asked how you were doing. You admitted you were a bit overwhelmed, and he wound up offering to stay the night and just talk. His parents allowed it and the two of you ordered takeout and spent the entire night just talking.

Rosie kept your parents young and on their toes – enough that they made friends with other couples in their neighborhood. Rosie was popular, she had lots of friends at school and around the neighborhood – loads of people came to her birthday parties and your home was the designated playdate house.

You zone back in to see Rosie offering Chan a marker, and you gasp. "No way you're letting him sign before me! I'm your sister!" "But Channie's my best friend." She retorts as you walk over, squatting next to Chan, who sticks his tongue out at you. "That's what you get for not helping me unload the car." "Oh, but you're so big and strong! You're supposed to do it!" You argue back childishly, only for your little sister to stomp her foot. "Sign it! I have things to do!" Chan bites back his laughter as he signs it, before handing the marker over to you. "Do tell, Rosie. What things do you have to do?" "Well, I have a tea party in ten minutes and I do not like to be late. The tea will get cold." She sniffs, and Chan pats her shoulder. "Have fun, pipsqueak." She runs off, obviously over the excitement of her sister and her 'best friend's' arrival. Chan gives you a glance, "Feeling better after having to do nothing?" You shrug, smiling at him. "I appreciate you, you know that." "You have a funny way of showing it." He says pointedly, before tilting his head towards his duffel. "Mom said I have to stay with you this time, my cousins are in town for a few days and they're in my room. Is that cool?" "Promise you'll wear socks to bed?" You hold your pinky out and he sighs, shaking his head as he links your pinky with his. "Fine, but that means you have to wear pants." You smirk, winking at him. "It's my bed, Chan." You stand up straight, shaking your legs out before walking away from him. He shakes his head again, tonguing his cheek as he follows suit. You wander into the kitchen, and your mother greets Chan with a hug. They start catching up about little things as you open the fridge, grabbing a wine cooler for yourself and a beer for Chan, shoving it into his chest and leaving. You hear your mother jokingly ask if Chan wanted the air mattress, and he only laughs before denying it, saying he should help you unpack and get comfortable. She agrees.

"Need help?" He moves to leave the beer on the table, your wine cooler tucked under your arm as you hoist your duffel over your shoulder.

"Nope." You smile, making your way to your bedroom. Yours is the only one downstairs, and it's in the furthest corner in the house as well. You practically begged your parents for it, insisting it was the warmest room in the house when the winters came about – and once Rosie came along, they let you move downstairs, saying the baby needed to be near them. You'd eagerly agreed and moved out happily.

Chan followed behind you quietly, his own bag over his shoulder as he took a sip of the beer you gave him. He wouldn't finish it, and the two of you would likely swap drinks before either of you had too much of it. As he reached your room, he saw you backflip onto your bed, a groan from your lips as you sank into the memory foam mattress.

"Fuck, this is gonna do wonders for my back." You moaned, eyes closed as you kicked your shoes off. He snorted, putting his beer next to your wine cooler on your dresser before doing the same. "Jesus, when did they get this for you? Your mattress has always sucked." You know he's not referring to the time three years ago that he snuck in, but your cheeks heat anyway as you look at him. His eyes widen, and he clears his throat. "I didn't mean–" "They got it for me last summer." You interrupt, and he nods quickly. "Sorry." "For?" You try to act nonchalant, but you clear your throat one too many times for him to think it's fine. So…he makes it worse. "We never talk about those days, you know. It's not like…it's weird. Right?" Not weird at all. I don't miss the way you felt inside me, nope. Not at all.

"Do you…want to?" You don't mean to sound so bitter, but Chan clicks his tongue. "I mean…it wasn't the worst thing ever. I…liked you a lot." You grimace at the awkwardness, but try and shrug. "I mean…I hope so. We did say we loved each other. A lot, might I add." "I said it a lot, you deflected." He corrects you, and you turn your head to look at him. "Are you doubting that I loved you?" "You wanted to break up on my birthday, Y/N, not even a week before Valentine's Day. Forgive me for assuming." He rolls his eyes, and you sit up. "No, I didn't. Your birthday is on the 11th." "Yeah. You came over on the 11th after we didn't see each other for weeks. We were kissing and you said that we should break up." He props himself up on his elbow, and your brow furrows as you think.

The two of you managed to sneak a glance or two in during cheer practices, but the days before blurred together because you pulled several all-nighters studying for your anatomy midterm. You remember checking the time before you left your dorm to go spend the night with him, it'd been five-thirty.

On February 11th.

"Shit, I'm sorry." You breathe, and he shakes his head. "What good is it now?" He shrugs, picking at a loose thread in your comforter.

"Chan, I'm sorry." Your hand finds his shoulder, and he gives you a soft smile. "It's fine. You finished the day with me anyway, that was all I'd wanted that year."

I'm sorry for breaking up with you, I wish I hadn't done that.

"I did love you. I still do, you're literally my best friend." You say gently, and Chan's eyes meet yours. They hold something you can't quite grasp, "It's different. Of course I love you, you're my best friend." You feel like your stomach is about to fall out of your ass when Chan shrugs again, his shoulders constricted by the tightness of his top. Your eyes follow the curve of his waist, his sweatpants tied around his hips loosely. "It's just different between you and me now, you know? It's not the same friendship it was before." He rolls onto his back, arms behind his head as he keeps talking. "Sometimes, I think it shouldn't have happened at all. I mean, let's be honest. Between you and me…things have always just been simple. We overcomplicated it by doing whatever it is that we thought would enhance our relationship." You can feel your chest aching with every word, but you can't seem to stop listening. Your eyes burn with tears as you let him keep talking. We?

"I guess it was something of a dumpster fire. Everyone always assumed we'd be something, maybe it's good we got it out of our systems." He nods, before looking at you. His eyes widened, sitting up quickly as you covered your face with your hand. "Y/N–" "You can be really, really coarse sometimes." You mumble, sliding off your bed and grabbing your wine cooler off the dresser. "I'm going to go find my dad, make yourself at home." You tighten your sweater around yourself, flinging the door open and slipping into the bathroom. You refuse to let the tears fall, taking a deep breath before drinking half of your can. You press the cool metal to your cheeks before stepping out, walking out towards the garage to see your father tuning one of his many guitars.

"Oh, you're home! I've missed you!" He puts the bass guitar down, before he frowns. "What's wrong, honey? Are you okay?" "M'fine. Hey." You shake your head, giving him a one-armed hug. He's not convinced, holding you closely. "You can talk to me, you know that." "It's stupid. What are you doing here?" You set your drink down on his workbench, only to see your father's stern look staring down at you. You sigh, running your fingers over the strings of the guitar. "Chan and I broke up." Confusion crosses his features as you take a seat on one of his cushioned bar stools. "I thought you broke up ages ago, sweetie." "We did. That's the problem." You mumble, feeling a tear slip out of your eye and you brush it away quickly, but your father sighs carefully, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. You bury your face into his ribcage, feeling sobs rack your body as he hums quietly. Your father had always been the person you went to when it came to Chan, because your mom was convinced you'd be the brute of the relationship – and insisted you were too harsh with your words at times.

"What'd he say this time?" He asks softly, and you wipe at your nose with your sweater sleeve, trying to form it in a way that doesn't expose your entire relationship. "He just mentioned that he felt like our friendship was different now that we'd involved feelings in the past, and that he thinks it's better that we 'got it out of our systems.' He said that he wishes it'd never happened sometimes, who says that?" Your father nods, a frown on his lips as he sighs. "I'm sorry he said those things, honey. I assume he didn't know you still felt some type of way about him?" "I don't." You lie through gritted teeth, but your father knows you far better than that. He pats your shoulder, glancing down at you. "Now, you and I both know that's not true. You called me crying about him a few weeks ago, didn't you?"

You had. You don't exactly remember what you'd said, but you remember it being three in the morning and your mother taking the phone and telling you to get a grip. It only made you cry harder, enough that your father stayed up for the next two hours soothing you over the phone. Chan walked into your bedroom a few hours later and asked if you were okay. You kicked him out of your room out of embarrassment. "Why can't you be one of those dads that kicks the guy's ass for me?" You pout, swatting his arm as he lets out a full bellied laugh. "Because I have two wonderful daughters and a loving wife I need to provide for. If I beat up every guy that crosses you, I'd be sent away. I'd miss graduations, birthdays, anniversaries. Weddings, at some point. I'd hate to miss those beautiful moments." You roll your eyes, and your father smiles lightly. "I also happen to know how to distinguish when my daughter is doing these things to herself. Chan might be saying things you don't exactly want to hear, but that's exactly what you're not doing. You're not talking to him about anything. He can't know how you feel if you're not telling him." You huff, but you know he's right. "Well, it doesn't matter anyway. There's nothing to tell him, and if he wants to act like we're better off being as distant as we are then I'm no one to beg for his presence." "That pride of yours will get you in trouble. Knock it off." He says pointedly, before sitting on the stool next to you. "Now, listen to this. I think my tune is still off."

Dinner was always a nice, intimate affair between your family and Chan's. You gather around the large mahogany table your father made years ago, and talk about everything and anything under the Sun. They ask you and Chan about school, cheer, and dating. Rosie talks about her friends and her toys, your mother talks about her restaurant and your father about his music store. The Lees tell you about their dance company, and give you updates on Chan's younger brother, who would be spending the holidays stuck at work.

Dating spins the table once more, and your father gives you a look that says he'll change the topic if you say the word. Mrs. Lee starts by teasing her son, who flushes beet red and insists he's not looking for anything right now.

"I still never found out why you and Y/N broke up." Mr. Lee chimes in, and you feel your cheeks grow hot as you grip your fork. Rosie looks between the two of you, her nose crinkled. "Ew! You were boyfriend and girlfriend?!" "No." You answer quickly, and your voice is far too nonchalant for Chan's taste, it seems. He gives you a confused look, and you shrug. "We just didn't work out. It wasn't good for us." "Easy for you to say." He mutters, shoving a piece of bread into his mouth. You grimace, and Mr. Lee shifts uncomfortably before you feel the words tumble from your mouth. "Yeah, well when you tell your girlfriend she doesn't love you, it's kind of hard to want to be together." Mrs. Lee's eyes are wide, spluttering over her glass of water as Chan groans, pulling his cap over his eyes. "That's not what I said, Y/N, you're twisting my words." "Am I?" You scoff, letting your fork clatter on the table as you push your chair back. "I mean, seriously, who fucking cares anymore? It's been three years." "Language, Y/N." Your mother's voice is stern, gesturing to your little sister who looks increasingly bewildered. You sigh, closing your eyes as you scoot your chair back into the table. "We just broke up. It's fine. I'm sorry for swearing, Rosie. Bad girl Y/N." You apologize to your sister, who nods slowly.

Chan mumbles an apology to Rosie as well, and the tension is thick as Mr. Lee clears his throat. "I'm sorry for bringing it up."

"Not your fault, Mr. Lee. Sore subject." You shake your head, patting the left side of your chest, as if saying it pains you. He gives you a sorry smile, before Mrs. Lee speaks up. "Will you be fine to room together? I don't want you guys to fight this entire trip, we haven't seen you in so long." "It's fine." You and Chan say in unison, eyes meeting in a glare over the table. "I know how to keep my mouth shut, it's no problem." You add, and Chan scoffs, mumbling something like ridiculous under his breath.

"Alright, that's enough. We haven't seen you guys in four months. We're going to sit here and enjoy this dinner, damnit!" Your mother speaks loudly next to you, making you jolt. Chan apologizes as he sits up in his chair, your little sister wide eyed as your mother shoves a spoonful of mashed potatoes in her mouth. You elbow her lightly, and she coughs.

"Sorry, Rosie." Your father makes the rest of the dinner go smoothly. He mentions his store, and tells a story about a guy who came in wanting to learn a few songs for his wife who was in the hospital. Everyone listens intently, and dinner is wrapped up within the hour. You offer to pick up, your mother's tired eyes thankful as she carefully hauls your now sleeping sister up the stairs to bed.

You tongue your cheek as you bid goodnight to the Lees, offering to wrap the cake your mom made in case they want to have a sweet midnight treat. They accept it and you watch them as they make the walk down the lawn to their house. You shut and lock the door, seeing Chan lingering at the bottom of the stairs speaking to your father. They both look apologetic, but Chan's cheeks are tinged pink as he rubs his neck, a habit he developed when feeling sheepish or admitting something.

You frown to yourself, turning back to the table. You gather all the plates, stacking them as you walk around the table. You'd pack the leftovers first, but you had to move everything out of the way properly.

"I'll wash." You hear Chan say, before he takes the plates from your hold. You don't reply, simply moving to gather all the cups and silverware. You dump any remaining drinks down the sink, ignoring the way he scrapes the plates over the garbage can. You move around in silence, quickly wrapping leftovers and moving them into containers, before sliding everything into the fridge and standing next to him as he washes the cups, moving onto the silverware quickly.

"I didn't think it would bother you." He begins, and your hand tightens around the glass in your hand, before you wipe it down with the rag in your other hand. He scrubs the silverware harshly as you mutter, "You assumed." "Yeah, well, I thought we were best friends. I thought I could assume shit and be right." He huffs, and you carefully take the knives from him, swiping the rag over the blades with ease. "You are right." "What?" He looks up from the soup bowl in his hand, and you shrug. "You are right. I guess I just didn't want to admit it earlier, but things are different between us now. It's whatever." You're lying. You're absolutely lying and Chan's face tells you he knows.

"You've always been a bad liar, Y/N. Don't start trying now." He scoffs, and you don't say anything as you dry the forks and spoons, opening the drawer to put them away. He washes the rest of the bowls in silence, but sucks his teeth the moment he grabs a plate.

"Why?" He asks reluctantly, and you raise a brow at him. "Why, what?" "Why are things different?"

You hum in response, drying a bowl as you think.

"For one, you've been inside me." You start, making him cough. "Be serious." "I am serious! Did you not fuck me three ways to Sunday every time I slept over? Did I imagine that?" You snort, and you watch his cheeks flush as he tongues his left one. "Whatever. What else?" "You stopped hanging out with me as much. I would call or text and you'd leave me on delivered for hours, and then get back to me once I was already ready for bed. Or you'd drunk dial me and come over. You used to properly spend time with me, but after that whole dumpster fire, you kind of just hung out with me when you wanted to." You don't intend to sound so hurt as you say this, but Chan's hands slow under the running water. He nods, a soft look in his eyes as he glances at you. "I'm sorry." "What good is it now?" You repeat his words to him, and he looks up at you. "Don't be like that." "You also blatantly made moves on other girls in front of me. If the relationship meant nothing to you, you could've said that. It would've made moving on a lot easier." You say pointedly, before forcing out a humorless laugh. "God, your body count must be in the double digits now. Is it?" He doesn't reply, but you nudge him with your elbow. "Is it?" "Yes."

You shake your head, tonguing your cheek as you open the cabinet and slide the bowls in carefully.

"What's yours?" "Two." You respond shortly, his eyes wide as he looks up at you again. "Two?"

"Problem?" Your brow is quirked as you reach for the first plate, and he shakes his head. "No. I just…" "Assumed it would be higher? Yeah, you're doing a lot of that lately." You roll your eyes, and he scowls. "Can you stop? You had some fault there too, you have to admit that." "I don't see how I'm to blame at all for you just assuming I didn't love you. I spent every waking moment by your side if I wasn't studying or showering, and even then it was like we were glued at the hip. I hardly had my own space, you literally snuck into my room after three days because you couldn't sleep without sticking your dick in me." "Why do you keep talking like the sex was only good for me? Like you didn't enjoy yourself? Because I remember something very fucking different." He scrubs the plate in his hand with vigor, and you let out a soft, mocking laugh. "Maybe I don't remember it that way. Maybe it was only good because I loved you. The other guy was very different." Chan tenses at your words, his hands still under the running water. "Was he?" "Yeah." You nod, but the truth is, you didn't like it nearly as much. He made you cum, sure, but it was missing that…flair. That eagerness Chan always had, the passion he had, the stamina to keep up with you. It was missing the love you had for Chan, and you remember struggling not to ask this random hookup to hold your hand, or kiss you when you came, or to tell you he loved you.

All things Chan did without realizing.

"Mmh." He doesn't speak again, handing you the dishes almost angrily before muttering something about a shower and leaving the kitchen. You wipe down the counter silently, your eyes welling with tears when you hear Chan rustle about. You assume he's moving into the bathroom when you feel a hand on the back of your head, carefully tangling in your hair as you feel his lips brush the shell of your ear.

"You do a really good job of pissing me off, but I won't ever deny that you're the best I've ever fucking had. No one feels like you and no one has made me feel like you have. No one." He pushes you back lightly, storming back out of the kitchen with his shirt in his hand. You get a glimpse of his bare back, the muscles tense as he walks away. You feel your heart racing in your chest, your fingers coming to check your pulse as you take a deep breath.

Some vacation this is going to be.

DECEMBER 23, 7:22AM.

You thank God for the fact that everyone in your house is a deep sleeper, and can't hear how loud your heart is beating in your ears at this present moment.

Chan had taken the edge of the bed closest to the door, something he always did when the two of you shared a mattress. Or rather, the edge of the fucking mattress — he was practically hanging off. You curled into the corner closest to the wall, and stayed there the majority of the night. Chan left your TV on, knowing the white noise of whatever show he put on would lull you to sleep.

However, throughout the night, Chan migrated closer and closer to you – eventually opting to pull you into his chest. Your leg was draped over his hip and your face was nuzzled into his neck, breathing in his soft body wash and the baby powder deodorant he stole from you.

"Chan, get off me." You groaned, pushing the heel of your palm into his shoulder. He scrunched his nose, shoving your hand away before pulling you back in. "Just fucking hold me, will you?" He rested his chin on your head, arms wrapped around you like a boa constrictor attempting to asphyxiate its prey. "Chan, I can't breathe." You're muffled against his ample chest, and he only slightly loosens his arms. You wiggle about, attempting to get comfortable at the very least, when his hand moves to grip your hip.

"Stop." His voice is hoarse as he pushes your hips away from him, which ends with you on your back and his arm over your waist. You sigh, reaching for your phone to check the time.

Seven-thirty-four. Your mother is likely either about to get up or making breakfast right now.

"I'm gonna get up." You mumble, wiping at your eyes when Chan is muttering under his breath. You lean closer to hear him, but he stops. "Speak up, I can't hear what you're saying." "Nothing, go. Eat something." He turns his head away from you, buried into the pit of his arm and the pillow. You raise a brow, turning back on your side. "Why can't you just tell me? Have you always been this difficult?" "Y/N, I'm hard as a rock right now. You can get out or you can watch me take care of it, I frankly don't give a flying fuck." He spits, and you feel your cheeks heat as you clear your throat. You move his arm from your waist, carefully peeling the blanket back to climb off the bed. He lets you slide over him, before his hand shoots out to grab your wrist, yanking you back onto the mattress. You yelp, your back hitting the comforter as he quickly moves to hover over you, his lips crashing onto yours. Your hands fist his shirt, your eyes fluttering shut as he carefully licks into your mouth.

You let him cup your face gently, his thumb softly caressing your cheek in tandem with the movement of his lips. He pulls away, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips quickly before your eyes open and he's looking down at you intently.

Neither of you speak, but you both know what he wants. His eyes dart all over your face, and you feel your cheeks heat as your hand shakily moves to palm him through his sweats. His jaw clenches at the friction, his hips involuntarily rolling into your hand when he shudders.

"Only if you want to." He murmurs, and you nod slowly. "I want to. Take your pants off." He pushes off you, sitting on the edge of the bed and you take the opportunity to kneel on your rug. It's nicely padded, but he scoffs as he grabs one of the pillows and makes you move onto it. He undoes the drawstring, but your impatient hands move to his hips and you pull the sweatpants down to his knees carefully. He hisses at the feeling against his cock, but says nothing as your hand wraps around it.

Your heart is racing as you stroke him a few times, his lip tucked between his teeth as he tries not to buck into your hand. "Don't tease me, please." He breathes, and you feel your lips twitch as you lean forward, spitting on the leaking head and spreading it carefully. You lick a stripe up the underside, following the thick vein with the tip of your tongue, working your hand at the base.

He groans, leaning back on his hands as you flatten your tongue against the head. You swirl it slowly, remembering how much he liked it the few times he let you go down on him. Chan, ever the giver.

"Fuck, baby, please." His hand moves to your head, gathering your hair in a makeshift ponytail as you take him into your mouth carefully, hollowing your cheeks as you let his tip hit the back of your throat. He sighs as you start to bob your head up and down, your tongue never stopping its laving as your throat constricts around his tip slightly. You push yourself to take him deeper, your nose slightly brushing his pelvis as he lets out a guttural groan.

“Can you shut up? My parents will hear you.” You pull off entirely, a frown on your spit-slick lips as he nods quickly, mumbling a breathy sorry. He sucks in a sharp breath as you sink back down on him, his hips involuntarily jerking into your mouth, making you gag slightly. "Shit, sorry–" "Just keep doing that." Your voice is slightly raspy, his eyes wide as he swipes your hair away from your face. "A-Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you–" "Do you want to finish or not? I can get up right now." You roll your eyes as you adjust yourself on the pillow, his hand still in your hair as he stands, tonguing his cheek. "Open your mouth." You do as you're told, instinctively sticking your tongue out as he holds his shaft, a soft moan from his throat before he leans slightly. The hand in your hair moves to your jaw, before a wad of spit lands on your tongue. You feel your cheeks warm, eyes fluttering shut when you feel his tip drag across your bottom lip. His fingers gather your hair again, his voice gentle as it hits your ears. "Let me know if I'm too rough." That's all he says before you feel the weight of his cock on your tongue, hearing him let out a quiet hiss as his tip hits the back of your throat. He's slow with his movements, methodical thrusts into your mouth as your hands rest on his toned thighs, digging your nails into the sides. "Eyes open, baby. Wanna see you." His voice is hoarse as it hits your ears, your eyes slightly watery as you peer up at him through thick lashes. His lips are bitten raw as he looks into your eyes – it proves to be too much for him as you whimper around his cock in your throat. "Fuck, you look so pretty like this." You ignore the way your stomach flutters as he rolls his hips messily, thumb coming to wipe the corners of your mouth from the bubbles of spit. Your hands move up his thighs, shoving his shirt out of the way to watch the way his chiseled torso flexes as he fucks into your mouth. He whines at your touch, his grip on your hair tightening as you notice a faint tattoo on his hip. You file it to the back of your mind as you feel his cock twitch in your mouth, his release spilling onto your tongue with a whimper.

You move back slightly, his fingers carding through your hair as he softly massages your scalp. "You okay?" His breath hitches in his throat as he feels your tongue on his tip. He pushes you away slightly, before his hands wrap around your wrists, pulling you off your knees. "You're fucking insatiable, you know that?" You shrug, "If you say so." He stares into your eyes for a moment, his own glazed over with a mix of lust and something you can't decipher. He leans forward a bit, brushing his lips to yours. You let out a shaky breath as he nips at them, watching your lower lip bruise slightly. "Pretty. I've always loved your lips." You roll your eyes, going to move away when he presses his lips to yours chastely. Once, twice, three times before his lips travel to your cheeks. He peppers kisses all over your face, making your nose scrunch as he pecks the tip of it.

"I'm sorry about everything yesterday." He murmurs, his hands moving to hold your cheeks. Your hands rest on either side of his hips, and you sigh. "It's whatever. Pull your pants up, what if someone comes in here?" "It's not whatever, Y/N. I hurt your feelings, and it was shitty of me to say those things. Especially when I didn't mean any of it, I was just…" "Angry?" You suggest, and he sighs as he moves to tug his sweatpants over his thighs. He ties the drawstring as he sits back down, your knees now settled on the pillow beneath you once more. "I don't know if I was angry. It's stupid, really. I shouldn't have spoken about it that way, is all. And I'm sorry." "You made me feel like I was just the first notch on your bedpost. You could've told me that was all I was to you, but it wasn't necessary. Not with the way you just started sleeping with other girls so soon after our break-up." The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them, and he gapes at you as you shift uncomfortably, opting to stand up. You pick the pillow up, fluffing it before tossing it onto the bed and drifting to your mirror. Your lips were a swollen mess, and you wiped at them with your hand before hearing a soft knock at the door.

You glance at Chan, who has a stoic look on his face before he stands up and answers the door. It's Rosie.

"Hey, babycakes." You call over Chan's shoulder, and he moves to the side as she waves. "Mommy told me to tell you it's time for breakfast!" "We'll be right there, pipsqueak. Ten minutes, tops." Chan smiles, and she nods excitedly, before bolting back down the hallway, screaming your estimated time of arrival. You smile to yourself as you yank open your dresser drawer, fishing out a t-shirt.

Chan's hands are on your waist as you root around, and you peer over your shoulder to see a soft glaze of tears over his eyes. Your brows raise in concern, and you twist to face him, your hands cradling his cheeks. "What's wrong? Are you okay?" "Do you ever consider how you made me feel? Or how you make me feel when you say things like that?" His voice is thick, and you feel your eyes begin to sting as your lips part. You shake your head slowly, his arms wrapping around you tightly.

"Did you think about what I said last night?" He asks softly, and you avoid his eyes as you sigh, nodding your head. "You know that's not just about sex, right? That's about everything, ever. You're the only person who has ever made me feel that way." "What way? Like you need to fill a void? I get it, I'm shitty for breaking up with you on your birthday." You mutter, and he tilts your chin up to look at him. His eyes are still glossed over but hold a stern look.

"In a way that I feel like I can't fucking breathe without you. Nothing means anything to me since we broke up, but just a crumb of your attention makes me feel fucking insane. I don't think you understand how much you and your moods and the way you talk affects me. Everything about you drives me up the wall with want and need and I need you to understand that."

Your voice is lost on you, your throat constricting as he tucks your hair behind your ear, thumbing at the small hoops he's never seen you without. "I look for you in every girl I've been with since. Every single one, and none of them compare. None of them are as stubborn as you are, none of them give me shit when I do something stupid. If you want to talk about sex, fine. I've never finished, not once. None of them feel the way you do, none of them kiss the way you do. Not a single one of them can I close my eyes and have their body burned in my mind, not the way I have yours. Not a single one has filled the spot you left, and I'd rather die an honest death and tell you that no one ever will if it's not you." Your lip is quivering as you look away from him, and he rests his forehead on your shoulder as your arms drop to your sides. "Please, please tell me you feel the same." You can't. You want to, you feel the ache to fill his cup until it overflows deep, deep in your stomach. But you're scared this is just for the moment, the fact that the two of you are away from any available hook-ups within a ten-mile radius. You're afraid that this is something temporary, just like the first time – but this time, with the intent of ending.

You hadn't wanted to call it quits then. You hadn't but it was the right thing to do – no matter who chastises you for it. You'd known, in your heart, that Chan was the person you are destined to love forever – whether you knew it then, drunk and high that first night in his bedroom, or in the backseat of his car, or even that time under the bleachers at a national cheer competition…it doesn't matter. Whether you knew it'd be in this pathetic way, doesn't matter. You know now.

He's looking for a good time, you tell yourself. And you may be a good time, a great time, even – but you won't do that to yourself. "It took me two years to move on." You don't recognize your own voice, thick with tears and a bitter taste in your mouth. "Two years, and you fucked Chaeyoung in your bed because you saw Minghao and I doing stunts together and got jealous for no reason. You fucked Chaeyoung and Seonmi, within an hour of each other. You didn't even wait a month."

He doesn't speak, nodding his head in silence against your shoulder as he pulls you impossibly closer. His chest is flush to yours, and you can feel his tears soak into your collar.

"All because you didn't want your fraternity brothers to flirt with me. All of this, years of pining after you, yearning for your touch, missing you in my fucking bed, because you're a jealous asshole who can't stand the idea of not being the only guy in my life. All of this, Chan, because you wanted to say that I didn't love you when I don't think I've ever been able to think of a future with a man that isn't you."

His hands grip your sides tightly, your own pushing against his shoulders as you let a choked sob fall from your lips. His eyes are just as red as yours, his cheeks just as tear-stained as yours. Heart, just as broken and empty of you as yours is of him.

"It's not fair to me. Not when I'm still hurt, not when I can still taste you in the back of my throat. Not when you ignored me for girls and drinks, not when I called my dad in the middle of the night because you weren't home and I'm worried that you're not answering my calls. Not when my mom thinks I'm the brute here, when it's you." He nods, eyes closed as he squeezes you in his arms. He rests his forehead on yours, "They're waiting for us. Wash up quickly." Your stomach sinks, but you feel your heart pick up a bit as he places a soft kiss on the corner of your lips. "I love you." You don't say it back.

Breakfast had been awkward, to say the least. You went to the kitchen after an hour, the two of you lying through your teeth to your parents about your red-rimmed eyes. Your father gave you a hard look, and you were set to clean the table after breakfast when Mrs. Lee offered to take you Christmas shopping.

"We can make a day of it, I miss my girl." She smiled sadly, and you'd only felt your cheeks warm as Rosie insisted she come along. Mrs. Lee agreed, and even roped Chan into coming, as well – his hesitance making your eyes gloss over with unshed tears.

He'd sat on your bed as you got ready, watching you tug on a nice sweater and a form fitting pair of winter pants. It'd begun snowing lightly during breakfast, and your father had suggested you layer up – though he was sure the snow wouldn't stick. You and Chan hardly spoke as he watched you get dressed, his eyes trailing your naked body shamelessly. He helped you put on your winter coat, and carefully helped you put on your watch – a gift from his mother one year. He picked your rings, mumbling about which ones fit the aesthetic of your sweater the best. The casual intimacy of it all was eating away at you, only for Chan to run his hand through your hair and kiss your cheek.

A silent vow that he'd earn you back, you both understood.

Mrs. Lee was a chatterbox – she made Chan sit in the back with Rosie, playing with the Barbies she insisted on bringing as she updated you on everything going on at the dance company. You and Chan had been enrolled as kids, Chan becoming a far better dancer than you were – but the two of you excelled the same amount when it came to gymnastics. Chan begrudgingly abandoned dance to cheer with you in high school, but he quickly became enamored with the sport.

Rosie stomped her feet as you asked her to leave the Barbies in the car, only agreeing when Chan said it'd be a shame if she lost them. You rolled your eyes as she asked him to pick her up, but he did so anyway, her pink cast scratchy against his neck. "Rosie, you know Channie's my best friend, right?" You teased her, earning a huff from the pouty six-year-old. She stuck her tongue out at you, earning a surprised laugh from Chan as he saw her in the reflection of a car window. The wind was biting, and you found yourself hovering behind Chan. As the four of you entered the mall, Rosie asked to be put down – only for Mrs. Lee to pull her close, holding her small hand within her ringed fingers as they wandered into a toy store.

"Cold?" He asked, snaking his arm around your waist. You shrugged, but your teeth chattered as you tried to speak. The two of you laughed in unison, Chan carefully swiping your hair out of your eyes as the two of you walked forward. You try not to let your face react as he interlaces your fingers.

"Did you get your mom's gift yet? I know your dad's is in the car, and Rosie's are all in my duffel." "Shit, I knew I was forgetting one. I got your parents tickets to a cruise, I need to print those, too." You tap your temple, and Chan gasps. "I'm their son, you can't get them a better gift than me!" "What did you get them? A picture of you in a frame from the thrift like you did in grade nine?" You roll your eyes, and he huffs, squeezing your hand. "No, I got my mom a few pieces of jewelry and my dad just wants a lawnmower." He rolls his eyes, and you snicker. "What'd you get me?" "My presence is your present." "Pretty shitty present, Chan." "Hey!" The two of you continue to bicker as you make your way to a few different stores – you swipe your card far too many times for you to count. Chan carries all your bags as you skip ahead of him, holding a cup of hot chocolate for your little sister as you find Mrs. Lee filed away with her in the back of a jewelry store. "What've we got here?" You squat down to Rosie's level, and she pulls her short hair back to show you her ears. "Mrs. Lee got me earrings like yours!" A pair of thin gold hoops sit in your sister's ears, and you glance up at Mrs. Lee with a pout on your lips. "You didn't have to do that, Mrs. Lee. I would've bought them for her." "Nonsense, it's the holiday season. I have her studs in my purse, don't let me forget to give them to your mother when we get back." She gives you a stern look, before glancing behind you, a smile on her lips. "Y/N's got you busy, huh?" Chan feigns annoyance as he huffs, "You could say that. What's going on here?" You turn to tell him when you see Rosie peeking into one of the bags before you cover her eyes. "No peeking! You'll see it on Christmas, babycakes." "Just one! Please, please, please!" She holds your hand in her sticky one, likely from any snack Mrs. Lee would've bought her at one of the stands. You grimace, before sighing. "Okay, one. When we get home, okay?"

"But I'm sleepy." She pouts, and you ruffle her hair. "Then you take a little nap in the car. You can use my coat as a blanket, okay?"

The six-year-old reluctantly agrees, before reaching for the cup in your hand. Chan and Mrs. Lee prowl the store together, their eyes lingering amongst all the glittering jewelry and whispers between them as you get offered a chair by a saleswoman. You tug Rosie onto your lap and ask her about what she did – she sleepily tells you Mrs. Lee took her on the carousel ride at the children's court, then bought her a piece of honey cake at a pastry shop. She yawns as she talks about a few pairs of shoes Mrs. Lee bought her – high top Twinkle Toes and a pair of winter boots to wear as the weather changes. She doesn't manage to finish the hot chocolate as she rests her head on your shoulder, and you finish it off before managing to throw the cup into a trash bin a few feet away.

Chan and Mrs. Lee are speaking to a saleswoman at the register, her eyes a little too heart-shaped as Chan fends his mother off to swipe his card. You hold Rosie close, your eyes watching the exchange as Mrs. Lee huffs, a triumphant smile on Chan's lips as they approach you again.

"Any more places you wanna hit before we go? My fingers are about to fall off." He shows the lines from the bags across his fingers, and you shrug. "You offered, now deal with it." He scoffs, but doesn't get a chance to retort as Mrs. Lee interrupts him.

"We should get going, actually. They did say it was going to storm pretty bad tonight." Mrs. Lee winces as the saleswoman walks up to Chan with a receipt, your eyes narrowing as he quickly tucks it in his pocket. Mrs. Lee speaks up again, "Kind of an odd thing to say, though, because it's been unusually warm." "First snow always sneaks up on us on years like this." You sigh, shaking your head as the four of you walk out of the store. You pick Rosie up, holding her on your hip as Chan shifts all the bags to one hand to push your hair out of your eyes.

"You guys are so cute!" An older woman compliments you both, just as Mrs. Lee appears next to you, her eyes slightly wide as Chan tucks your hair behind your ear. His cheeks tinge pink as his mother gapes lightly, but she says nothing as you walk towards the exit. You pull Rosie's hood over her head as you reach the doors, and tug her scarf up to her eyes before bracing the cold air. "Fuck, it's cold." You hear Chan mutter as Mrs. Lee shudders, her gloved fingers fumbling with the key fob as the car comes into view. You shiver as she pops the trunk, watching Chan carefully put everything in it as Mrs. Lee slides into the driver's seat, turning the heat on blast as she turns the engine on. You carefully slide Rosie into her carseat, trying not to wake her as you click her seatbelt in place. You slide your coat off, shivering immediately in the biting wind as you cover her lap with it before shutting the door quickly.

Chan's eyes are wide as he sees you crossing your arms over your chest, your scarf the only layer protecting your neck as he nearly rips his coat off and wraps it around you. "Are you insane? Do you want to get sick?" He doesn't let you reply as he ushers you to the passenger side, nearly shoving you into the seat and all but slamming the door. He closes the trunk before getting into the backseat, his nose red from the cold. You glance at him through the rearview, watching him blow into his hands as he meets your eyes. He looks at you pointedly as Mrs. Lee pulls out of the parking spot.

You look away.

"So." Because your mother is at her restaurant editing the holiday menus and Chan has taken the rest of the day to spend time with his cousins, you've asked Mrs. Lee to help you pick out your Christmas Eve dinner dress. She is sitting at your desk as you model options for her, the current cranberry red dress a bit too short for her taste. You frown as you change in the closet, "So, what? What's up?" "When are you and Channie going to figure this out? I mean, it's been years." She sighs, and you hear her rustle through one of the shopping bags. You step out to see her holding the dress you bought for New Years' dinner, the black glitter mocking you as you sigh. "I don't know what you mean, Mrs. Lee." You smooth your hands over a forest green sweater dress with gold accents, before turning to her. "This one?" "You know what I mean, honey. There is still something between the two of you, don't think I didn't see the way he practically tore his coat off earlier." She shakes her head at you, and you scoff. "That doesn't mean anything, he's just a gentleman." "Yeah? Then what was last night's outburst about?"

You freeze, your hands fisting the dress as you go to pull it over your head. She peers at you through the full-body mirror, her eyes so reminiscent of Chan's. You purse your lips, looking away and at your socked feet as you slowly make your way over to her. You perch on the edge of your bed, "I don't want you to think less of me." Her hands hold your cheeks gently as you feel a tear roll down your face, her eyes wide and worried as she shakes her head. "Honey, I could never. You're such a smart and wonderful young woman, and you've always treated my Chan so well. You've been his biggest hypewoman, I could never think anything but the best of you." "I was the one who broke up with him, on his birthday." You say shakily, "I didn't remember it was his birthday, but that's on me. I just…I thought I was doing the right thing. I broke things off because I wanted us to focus on school. We were so busy after we went back from break that we didn't see each other unless we were at practice, and it was eating away at me." You wipe your eyes, Mrs. Lee's hands now folded in her lap as she listens. "No one can be upset with you for doing what you felt was best, honey." "Chan was." You scoff out a laugh, rolling your eyes as you sniffle. "He still is, I guess. We got home and we sat down in here for a bit, and we talked. He said that maybe it was better this way, that things had always been 'easy' between him and I, that involving feelings wasn't the best move. That our relationship was a dumpster fire, and that he's glad we got it out of our systems because he wishes it never happened sometimes. That he…felt like I didn't love him." You trail off, feeling a surge of tears roll down your face as you wipe at your nose with your sweater sleeve. You glance at her, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears as she tilts her head. "And he moved on. I didn't. So…I don't know if it's fixable. I'm sorry to disappoint you, if you thought Chan and I would be something of a forever as anything more than just friends." You give her a sad smile, and she quietly sighs.

"He called me a few days after his birthday that year, you know." She nods, looking at her nails before she flicks her hair out of her face. Your eyes widen as you sit up slightly, "He did?" "He was a mess." She laughed softly, running her hands down her jeans. "He cried and cried, I remember asking him if he wanted me to go up to the campus. I was so worried about him, until he told me that you two weren't seeing each other anymore. Just a boy needing his mother because the girl of his dreams broke his heart." Her voice is slightly teasing, but your heart sinks. "What?" "Oh yeah, honey. Channie's not very good at hiding his feelings, we knew he liked you since you were kids. We figured it would take him a bit to realize it, but once you two came home for the holidays that year, it was like he was a different person. He walked in with so much confidence, not that he needed anymore." She snorts, and you laugh softly. "He just seemed happier, a lot brighter. Like he does when he dances." You feel your chest ache as you look away, her hands finding yours. "I know that in there, somewhere…there is a love waiting to be let loose again. I know maybe then, it was the right thing to do. I know you wouldn't have done it if you didn't think you had to, I've known your heart since you were a little girl. I know it's kind and strong and you're a good person, Y/N. Don't think about it too much, I know you've both felt that pain but trust me when I say, there is no life without pain. All I can tell you is to live without regrets." She squeezes your hands, and you sigh shakily, your eyes still letting tears flow. "What if we break up again?" "Then you can always say you tried." She shrugs, "You're Y/N, he's Chan. If I know anything, it's that you're both hard headed and you never give up on anything. Why make your relationship the first thing?" She gives you a warm smile as you nod, and she glances at the sweater you have on. "Maybe not this one, either." She wrinkles her nose, and you scoff in mock offense. "I've tried everything on in my closet! Why don't you pick something for me, then?" She grins as she gets up, skipping to your closet and rustling about. You check your phone, seeing a few missed messages from Chan.

Msg From: Chan 💗 [5:33PM] dude these guys SUCK [5:34PM] come hang out with me :( [5:34PM] i'm sick of this shit, soonyoung keeps making spitballs?? are we fucking thirteen??

You snort, watching as Mrs. Lee drapes a few options over her arm. Msg To: Chan 💗 [5:55PM] can't, hanging out with ur mom [5:56PM] do you want to take a drive later? i think the temp went back up a bit and it's not as windy

Msg From: Chan 💗 [5:57PM] oh so you hate me??? you get her tickets to a cruise AND you're hanging out with her? do you just wanna paint me as a bad son??? [5:57PM] i'd say yes but i don't think i'll be back until right before dinner :( but tomorrow after dinner at your mom's restaurant? maybe we can catch a late movie or something.

You don't get a chance to reply as Mrs. Lee whispers a small aha! She rustles around a bit more before coming out with only one dress, one you hadn't worn since you bought it because you never had an occasion. It was a long, champagne colored dress with a sarong skirt and long sleeves. The skirt was carefully ruched at the hip, before flaring out in an open slit. It had a sweetheart neckline littered with rhinestones, and you winced as you ran your fingers down the fabric.

"It's not too showy for dinner? We're just going to the restaurant." You sigh, thumbing the stitching. Mrs. Lee scoffed, "Your mother has worn far more extravagant things than this, do you remember when she wore a ball gown to New Year's last year?" You snort, thinking back to the way you hide your face as you walked into the Lee home last year. Chan made a comment under his breath about how insane the baby blue dress was, but everyone was more or less a fan.

You also remember the way his hand slid a little too low on your back that year as rang in the new year with a hug.

Looking up at Mrs. Lee, she gives you a mischievous smile. "Go on, try it on! And we can do some hair and makeup stuff before we have to have dinner!"

Needless to say, your mother did a double take when she arrived home and saw that you were fully dolled up at the hands of Mrs. Lee. Her jaw dropped as she took in the wine red lipstick you stole from her bedroom and glittery eyeshadow, before a huge smile overtook her face and she rushed into your room to talk. It holed you away in the bedroom for another hour and a half before you graciously kicked both women out for just thirty minutes alone before dinner.

You stood in front of your vanity, dress hung back up your closet and a sigh filled the room as you reached for a makeup wipe. You peered at yourself, Mrs. Lee's words filled your mind as you ran your hands through your hair. Pursing your lips, you tie your hair back before hearing a knock at the door, and Chan opens it slightly.

"Hey. I'm home." He's not looking at you as he tugs his coat off, a sigh from his lips as you quirked an eyebrow at him. "You don't sound very happy." "I'm just tired, I don't remember what it was like to shoot the shit with those guys." He scoffs, throwing his jacket over the back of your desk chair before sitting in it. His eyes widen as he finally looks at you, "You look pretty." "Thanks. Mothers." You shrug, before reaching for the makeup wipe you abandoned in order to tie your hair back. "Wait, wait, let me see." He reaches for your hand, pulling you towards him. You roll your eyes as you sit on the edge of the bed, your other hand on your knee as he looks at your face.

"Why haven't you ever worn this lipstick before? It looks really nice." His thumb pulls at your lower lip, before you swat his hand away. "Stop that, someone could walk in." "Then lock the door? I'm just looking at you." He rolls his eyes as he stretches, "Did you figure out what you're wearing tomorrow?" "Barely. I'm still overthinking it, but the Moms said to go for it so…we're going for it." You shrug, and he raises a brow. "Do you want to show me? Maybe a third opinion could help settle it." "Nope." You grin, before standing up to move back in front of the vanity. His hold on your hand pulls you back, his other hand snaking around your waist as he pulls you into his lap. You huff as he kisses your shoulder, "Chan. Seriously."

"I missed you." He pouts, leaning his cheek on your shoulder as you roll your eyes. "Yeah, well…" You trail off, your cheeks heating as he smiles up at you. He's about to say something when you hear a knock at the door, making you jump in his hold. You rip yourself away from him, nearly stumbling as you rip the door open. It's Rosie.

"Ooh, you look pretty! Can I try?" She hops into your room, puckering her lips as she looks into your vanity. You snort, "Hello to you, too. Do you come with a message or just demands?" "Dinner in ten minutes. Can I try now?" She jumps in front of the mirror, and you roll your eyes as you motion for Chan to hand you your makeup bag off the edge of the desk. He does, and you root around in it for the lipstick, pulling out a lip brush as well. You squat in front of her, "This is Mom's lipstick, okay? We can only use a little bit." She nods, letting you carefully trace the brush around her lips. You turn her around in the mirror when you're done, lifting her up slightly. "You like?" "I like!" She smacks her lips loudly, and you smile inwardly as you set her down. "Can I wear this tomorrow, too?" "If you ask Mom and she says yes, we can talk about it." You shrug, and she nods quickly, before grinning at herself in the mirror one last time. "Okay, bye! Thank you!" "Bye, babycakes." You laugh, closing the door as she runs out. You give Chan a glance, rolling your eyes as you reach for the makeup wipe. "Gotta love that kid." "Don't take it off." He pouts, standing up to slide next to you in the mirror. You scoff, "Why? You're just gonna stare at me over dinner and everyone's gonna think something that isn't." He huffs, resting his chin on your shoulder as you carefully wipe at your eyes. You peel one open, seeing him pouting in the mirror. You struggle not to roll your eyes as you turn your face to look at him, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. "Stop pouting, it's not a good look on you." His eyes are wide as you continue to wipe the makeup off, his hand coming to ghost over your jaw as he makes you face him. "I missed you." He repeats, before nuzzling his nose against yours. Your breath hitches in your throat as his lips brush yours, before he whispers against them.

"I love you."

And just like this morning, you let him. You let him slot your lips together in a tentative kiss, your heart beating wildly in your chest as he turns you around, pressing your back into the vanity. His hands move to hold your hips gently, his fingertips barely breaching the hem of your shirt as he pulls away. He doesn't move back much, brushing his lips against yours as he squeezes his fingers against you softly.

"Will you at least let me try to win you back?" You feel your skin grow hot as you look away, and your heart flutters in your chest as he cradles your face softly in his warm hands. He presses a kiss to your forehead, "Please?" You want to tell him there is nothing to win back, you'd always be there. If time was the issue, you'd wait – no problem. But there is that part of you that's hurt that wants him to fight for you. The part of you that wants him to beg for you back, the part of you that wants him to hold you tight and cry with you about how stupid he's been when you've been equally as stupid. Maybe in a different way, but you're both idiots in your mind.

You look into his eyes through thick lashes, the heat of his gaze making you want to melt into the ground. Chan, despite the history between you two and his bad habits, had always been both the angel and the devil on your shoulders. He could lead you down any path and you'd blindly follow, but you knew you were the same for him. The truth of it all was that your trust in Chan has never wavered, even when the pain of his actions settled into your bones.

"Okay." "Promise?" His eyes are wide as he holds his pinky out, and you sigh, closing your eyes as you nod and link your fingers. "Promise." You both kiss your thumbs and touch them to each other, before you wipe the stamped lipstick off his cheek. "Don't tell your parents anything or I'll get Soonyoung and Mingyu to put snow down your pants tomorrow." He rolls his eyes, "You still haven't let me introduce you to them, so good luck. I wasn't going to tell them in the first place, anyway, because they'd make me go to my room after Dumb and Dumber go back into town tomorrow afternoon. I still can't believe they didn't ask for the holidays off."

You roll your eyes, moving the makeup wipe to your lips as he traces circles into the skin of your hip under your shirt. "Double pay, probably. My mom is shelling out double pay at the restaurant these next few weeks." He hums in response, "Did my mom say anything I should know about?" You snort, "Wouldn't you like to know." "I would, thank you. Tell me." "I have to wash my face, Chan." You give him a pointed look as you push past him, moving to your bathroom as he sighs, trailing after you. "Okay, you can wash your face and speak." "Chan, get out of my bathroom. They're probably waiting for you at the dinner table." "If they're waiting for me, they're waiting for you." He reminds you, leaning against the doorframe. You huff, reaching for your face wash as you turn the faucet on. "Go. I'll be out in a minute." He sighs, before pushing off the doorframe and leaving without a word. You feel your chest heavy with worry as you lather your face wash into your skin, but you force yourself to push all your rushing thoughts to the back of your mind. If Chan is making the moves to make things right, you have to at least give him his flowers for that. He wouldn't pull a fast one on you, he's not that kind of guy.

Right?

DECEMBER 24, 6:05AM.

Dinner between the two families had been rather entertaining. Your mother was enamored with the earrings Mrs. Lee got for Rosie, and the parents discussed carpooling groups for the Christmas Eve dinner at your mother's restaurant. You and Chan would be the only ones not lumped into your father's SUV, and you couldn't help the way you glanced at Chan with a wince. He had a slight grimace on his face as he agreed quietly, the two of you holding up the façade of your fight so as to not make anything obvious. He snuck a few kisses to your lips as the two of you did the dishes, before the two of you turned in for the night. You showered and brushed your teeth, only to have to wait for Chan because you kicked him out of the bathroom before he could offer to save water by showering together. He'd pouted, but it didn't matter. There was a line you couldn't cross…and that's it, right?

Either way – Chan had pulled your back into his chest at some point throughout the night, not that you were complaining. Yesterday morning's shenanigans seemed to have continued – but this time, his hand was up your shirt as he grinded himself against your clothed cunt, nipping his teeth against the skin of your neck. You were about to turn over to kiss him when you heard the heavy knock of your father's hand on the door. You nearly shoved Chan off the bed with how quickly you sat up and jumped over him, answering the door with a flushed look.

"Dad, don't do that! I nearly shit myself." You hold your hand to your chest, and your father holds out two cups of coffee. "You have a shower, you'd survive." "Don't be gross." You grimace, carefully taking the cups and setting them down on the dresser. Chan sits up, eyes squinted as he stretches his arms over his head. "Good morning, Chan." "Good morning, sir." He mumbles, before running his hands over his face. Your father gives you a quizzical glance, seeing your eyes a bit low as he snorts. "You guys might want to wake up, the snow outside is insane and Rosie will want you guys to help her build a snowman." "You can't help her? It's barely six." You rub at your eyes with the heels of your palms as your father smooths your hair down. "I'll give you an hour." "Two hours." Chan groans from the bed, flopping back down and tugging the duvet over his shoulder. You snort, taking a quick sip from the steaming white mug. You crinkle your nose at the bitter taste, only to hear your father laugh softly. "Hour and a half. Deal?" "Deal." You nod tiredly, and he nods as he moves to shut your door. "Set an alarm, or I'm coming in here with pots and pans."

You only nod again, holding the coffee cup to your lips as he shuts it tightly. Looking over your shoulder, you see Chan sitting up on his elbows, a scowl on his lips. "Seriously?" "It's the holiday season and they haven't seen us all year, it's only normal that they want to spend time with us." You roll your eyes as you set down your cup, sliding back under the covers as he grunts. "They can't wait until the sun comes up for that? I love our families, but I don't wanna be outside in subzero temps." "It's not even subzero, dumbass. It's like, seventeen degrees out." You rest your head on your pillow, looking up at him with tired eyes. "Subzero or seventeen, it's still the asscrack of dawn." "Never too early to have your hand up my shirt though, is it?" You say pointedly, and he scoffs as you shift uncomfortably in your sticky shorts. "So if I pull your shorts down, you won't be wet? You weren't complaining." "I never said that, but you're complaining about it being the asscrack of dawn yet you're feeling me up in your pretend sleep." You shake your finger in his face, making him sigh as he lays on his side. "Sometimes I just like touching you, okay? It doesn't always have to end in something, baby." "You mean you like riling me up so I'll be the one to pounce. You're not slick, I know your tricks." You drape his arm over your waist as you face away from him, feeling his lips brush the shell of your ear. "So should I continue or are you going to play hard to get?" "You know, you just reminded me to shove snow down your pants. Maybe then you'll calm down."

He scoffs, pressing a kiss just under your ear before pulling you closer to him. You nestle into his warmth, feeling his hand slip under your shirt. He doesn't move it, his thumb caressing just above your navel as his breathing slows. You close your eyes, but not feeling the thick veil of sleep creeping up on you. Huffing, you turn on your back, making Chan stir slightly but he says nothing. You stare at the ceiling, the early morning sun barely peeking in through your blinds.

"You're thinking too loud."

Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you snort. "Sorry, did my thinking disturb you?" "Go back to sleep, we're not going to get a chance to rest until after dinner." He sighs, before you roll onto your side to face him. "I can't."

He hums, opening his eyes with a sigh. "Better start trying, baby. It's been like twenty minutes since your dad left."

Rolling your eyes, you shift lower to press your face into his stomach. His hand cards through your hair gently, his fingertips grazing the skin of your neck as they dip below the collar of your shirt. "Comfortable?" "It's alright." You retort, making him laugh quietly. "Just alright?" "You don't need your head to grow any bigger, Lee." "Humor me, will you?"

"Never." You huff, fisting the material of his sweatshirt. His breathing slows once more, but yours still can't match his. Frustration festers in your stomach, and you find yourself tracing circles into his sweatshirt before pushing it up slightly, bunching it around his ribcage. Your fingers make contact with his warm skin, drawing shapes into it with your dull fingernails when you feel him softly tug at your hair.

"Don't start something you can't finish, baby."

You scoff, your breath warm against his skin. "Shut up." He only hums, your fingers continuing their tracing when you find yourself pressing your lips to his skin softly. Once, twice, three times as you move around his slim waist. He shifts slightly, a shaky sigh falling from his lips as you nip at the skin around his navel. Your palm pushes his hip down until he gets the hint, moving to lie on his back as you push his sweatshirt higher. Your thighs rest on his as you straddle him, and you feel the outline of his cock against the soaked fabric of your shorts.

You can feel his eyes on you as your tongue pokes out from between your lips, licking a stripe up his sternum before pressing a kiss between his pecs. You pepper kisses across his chest, feeling his breathing ragged beneath your wandering hands. Your thumb lightly ghosts over his right nipple, and you feel him jolt beneath you.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" He groans, making you smirk against his skin as you flick the tip of your tongue against his nipple, his hands flying to your hips to hold you steady. "Baby." "Stare at the ceiling or something, stop interrupting me." You shrug, before pulling his sweatshirt higher. "Take this off." He obliges, nearly ripping the piece of clothing over his head before sitting up slightly, grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you into a searing kiss. You let out a squeak of surprise, his tongue snaking into your mouth at the opportunity. Your hand snakes up his torso, your fingers pinching lightly at one of his nipples. His hips jerk roughly against you, a moan spilling into your mouth as you pull away quickly, clamping your hand over his lips with a scowl.

"Shut the fuck up! Do you want them to hear you?"

He licks your palm, making you grimace as you wipe it on his shoulder, his hand on your neck pulling you back down to his lips. "I don't give a fuck who hears me as long as you're the one making me sound like this."

"Yeah, well I have shame. Shut your mouth before I put something in it." You snip, but his other hand snaps the waistband of your shorts against your hip. "Yeah? You'll shut me up?" "You're a sick freak." You scoff, shoving yourself off him. "Go lock the door."

His eyes widened as you began to undo the drawstring of your shorts, your thumbs sliding under the waistband with a pointed look. "Hello? Lock the fucking door, Chan." He nearly falls off the bed getting out of the sheets, making you snicker to yourself as you shove your shorts down your legs. You ignore the few strings of arousal connecting you to the ruined cotton and the way the cool air of your bedroom makes you wince, reaching for your phone as Chan slides back into the bed.

7:15am.

"We only have fifteen minutes." You flick your shorts to the side as you move back over Chan, his eyes wide as he glances at them. "Baby." He breathes, holding them up by the waistband.

"Shut up, I'm ovulating or something." You roll your eyes as a blush coats your cheeks, making him snort. "Or something? Just admit you like it when I feel you up in my 'pretend' sleep." He makes air quotes with his fingers, making you scowl as you take the shorts from his hand.

"Open your mouth, since you can't stop running it." He sticks his tongue out at you, before happily opening his mouth. You stuff the crotch of the shorts into his mouth, ignoring the way his eyes flutter at the taste makes your core clench around nothing. You try not to look at him as you settle yourself onto his chiseled torso, the same faint tattoo mocking you as you try to figure it out. Biting your lip, you gently roll your hips against him, the feeling of the hard muscle against your clit enough to make your legs tremble slightly. He groans around the shorts, his hands moving up your thighs as you grind down against his stomach.

With every rut of your cunt against his lower stomach, you can feel his painfully hard cock poking the meat of your ass. You ignore the way he winces every time, moaning softly around the soaked shorts as his hands move higher on your thighs, his grip only making you whine. It's not long before his stomach is covered in your arousal, your whimpers filling his ears as he covers your mouth with his hand before taking the shorts out of his mouth.

"I can make you cum faster than this." He whines as your thumbs circle around his nipples, but you roll your eyes, "I like it this way." "I know b-baby, but I'm two seconds from blowing in my pants." He sighs shakily as you move his hand from your mouth, pinning it above his head. Your lips brush against his as you lean forward, looking into his glossy eyes. "I'm not fucking you, you have to earn that." "Sit on my face." He breathes against your lips, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of them as you shake your head. "We won't have enough time–" "Two minutes, you know me." He begs, weaseling his arm out of your grip to push you up his torso as you huff. "Chan, it's risky–" "Everything about our entire relationship has been risky, why stop now?" He whispers, and you look at him to see a slightly dejected look in his eyes. He wants to please you, you know he does – and you want him to make it up to you. All those lonely nights missing his face between your thighs like a starved man, all the useless vibrators that got you nowhere near the orgasms he pulled out of you. "Make it fast." You mutter, moving to kneel over his face. He nods silently, his arms wrapping around your thighs as he pulls you down, his nose bumping your clit and making you jerk. "Chan!"

"Shh, baby." He murmurs, nosing at your pussy like a dog after a bone. "You smell so fucking good, missed this."

You squirm as he places a kiss on your clit, your fingers holding onto the metal headboard for stability as he flicks his tongue against it teasingly. He moans into your wet heat, his pouty lips wrapping around your sensitive bud as you force yourself to swallow your whines, rocking your hips against his face, feeling your end coming embarrassingly fast.

"Chan." You breathe out, reaching down to pull at his hair as he furrows his brows, his tongue messily collecting your arousal with soft grunts. "Mmh?" You don't say anything, hoping he just knows what you mean as you let a whine slip, your thighs tightening around his head. He forces them apart, using his strength to grind you against his tongue. You're a whimpering mess above him, your thighs trembling as you fall forward against the headboard. You're gripping the metal with your hands as you come undone with a whisper of his name, feeling your stomach cave in as he keeps licking at you.

A knock at the door makes him stop (and you jerk), his arms holding you firmly against him as he clears his throat. "Yes?" "Are you guys up? Why is this door locked?" It's your mother, and she jiggles the doorknob as Chan laughs, lying on the spot. "I'm sorry, I'm changing! Y/N is about to get in the shower, she'll be out in twenty minutes, I promise." "Tell Y/N to wear leggings under her pants, it's freezing out there." She's not suspicious, and Chan gives you a look of relief as he answers. "Will do! Thank you!" "You're welcome!" The two of you sit in silence as you wait a few moments, before you feel Chan's tongue snake through your folds. You try to push off his face, but your legs feel like jelly as he fucks the tip of his tongue into you. "S-Stop, we have to go." "I bought us twenty minutes, gorgeous. Let me do what I gotta do." He mutters, practically making out with your clit as you squirm away. "Chan, we have to get up." He sighs, his hands massaging your thighs. "Can never relax, hm?" "Be so fucking serious." You scoff, mustering all your energy to get off his face. He watches as you lay on your stomach with a groan, "I can't even get up. Fuck you, man." "Please do. I never want to cum in my pants again, this shit feels so gross." He grimaces, sitting up and running his hands over your thighs, digging his thumbs into the sore muscles. You peek at his pants, your fingers coming to lift the waistband when he swats your fingers.

"Come on, we have to shower or they won't buy it."

"Any time I've showered with you, you've tried to slide your dick between my asscheeks. I don't trust you." You snort, and he only lands a soft smack to your outer thigh. "It's a wonderful ass, can you blame me? But, for the sake of time and your so-called shame, I'll skip out on it." "Ugh, fine."

Chan stays true to his word, the ten-minute shower consisting of nothing but soft kissing under the showerhead and soapy hands sliding around naked bodies. Him finishing in his pants isn't a lie, either – and you apologize by letting him tongue at your nipples for two minutes. Every touch landing where it's not supposed to, pulling soft whines from each other as tongues slipped from mouths to collarbones before he reminded you that you couldn't mark each other above the neck if you wanted to remain undiscovered.

Chan toweled his hair dry and got changed quickly to appease your awaiting parents, but didn't leave the bathroom without a kiss…or three, to your lips. He lingered a bit as you dried your hair, a warm smile on his face as he watched your scrunched face in the mirror – when you caught his eye. "What?" "I love you."

He doesn't wait for you to respond, only tucking his coat under his arm as he exits your bedroom. You pretend it doesn't make your knees weak as you pull two pairs of leggings on, and your snow pants. You pretend it doesn't fill your stomach with butterflies as you tug on two pairs of socks and your heavy boots. You pretend it doesn't make your cheeks warm as you pull on one of his t-shirts under your sweater, and you pretend it doesn't make you tingle with excitement as you shove on your coat and tuck your scarf under your chin. You slip out of your bedroom with your lip balm in your hand, only to see Mrs. Lee and your mother scolding Chan as he sits in one of the dining room chairs, your mother's hair dryer blowing hot air in his face. He's wincing as they let him have it, a pout on his lips as he sees you. "Tell them you hogged the hairdryer!" He begs, making you smirk. "I'd be lying, wouldn't I?" You reach out to ruffle his hair, sticking your tongue out at him as you make your way to the kitchen. You see Rosie and your father holding hot packs to their faces, your little sister's nose red from the cold. "Have fun out there, babycakes?" You ask, leaning on the island with a smile as she nods quickly. "Mingyu and Soonyoung helped me make a snowman! You and Channie have to help me, too. It has to be bigger!" "You met Mingyu and Soonyoung already? I haven't even met them!" You feign offense as she nods, your father rolling his eyes. "If you had been up earlier, Chan could've given you a proper introduction." "I was not going to be up at six in the morning to make a snowman, I'm sorry." You shrug, before checking your watch. "It's only eight, how are you guys so chipper?" "We don't have to wash all the dishes after supper. So I guess you're off the hook for not being up earlier." Your mother snorts from the kitchen entrance, a red-cheeked Chan following behind her. He sticks his tongue out at you, making you snort. "Nice hair, man." "Shut up." He rolls his eyes, and your mother sighs as she slides two plates of breakfast food in front of you. "Eat up, we've got a busy morning." You and Chan glance at each other, knowing she means that the entire family has to work to tire Rosie out enough that she takes a nap sooner rather than later. If she goes down later, everyone will be late for Christmas Eve dinner.

Which will make your mother very upset, and God forbid you make your mother upset during the holiday season!

You and Chan practically scarf your breakfast down as Rosie excitedly recounts how Mingyu and Soonyoung kept fighting over what carrot would make the best nose for her snowman. She smiles cutely as she holds up a carrot your father was holding, "But I saved the best one for our snowman, guys!" Your heart melts as she says that, your lip jutting out in a pout as you shovel the last of your waffles into your mouth. You take your plate and Chan's to the sink as she continues speaking, careful not to get your sleeves wet as you wash them quickly. Chan dries them as she gets to the part where Mingyu spit a raisin at Soonyoung, making you choke on your water. Rosie stops mid-story, tugging your father out of the kitchen – insisting she was all warmed up and ready to go back outside. "Save me!" Your father mouths as he allows your little sister to drag him out, making you snicker to yourself. Chan slides the plate into the cupboard, running the rag around the sink basin as the kitchen grows quiet. You swallow the last of your water, only to feel Chan's fingers on your jaw.

"Just a quick one." He utters quietly, his eyes darting to the entryway as you roll your eyes, pecking a chaste kiss onto his lips. He can't help but hold you in place, kissing you again slowly when you hear the door open. You push him away, sliding your empty glass onto the island as Mr. Lee yells into the house. "Get out here!" You both nearly trip over each other trying to exit the kitchen, Mr. Lee shoving two pairs of gloves in your hands as he shoves the two of you out. Chan shivers next to you, looping his arm with yours as you carefully make your way off your porch. You tug the gloves on, giving him the other pair as you brave the winter air.

"It's colder than a witch's tits." You hear someone say, and your head whips around to see two guys sitting in two folding chairs next to an abomination of a snowman, holding cups of coffee between ungloved fingers. Chan rolls his eyes as he tugs you towards them, their eyes averting to you and the one with blond hair nearly spits his coffee out.

"Don't be fucking weird, okay?" Chan says, and the blond one scoffs. "You didn't say she was a fucking bombshell, Chan!" "Maybe because it's none of your business if she is or isn't! She'd never date you, anyway." Chan pulls you close suddenly, and you smile sheepishly at the two men.

"Hi, Y/N." The brunet smiles at you, his eyes trailing you a bit too long for Chan's liking. "Don't look at his teeth, that's how he gets you." Chan covers your eyes with his hand, making you scoff as you pull it down.

"Don't be a baby, Chan." You roll your eyes, before extending your gaze to the men. "It's nice to meet you guys. Who is who?" "Mingyu." The blond one points at the brunet, who points back at him. "Soonyoung, resident idiot.' "Hey!" Soonyoung shoves him, making Mingyu snort. "It's the truth, Rosie made him eat a disk of snow with raisins on it."

You laugh as Chan sulks, making you pinch his cheek and coo. "Don't be jealous, Channie. As long as neither of them is taller than you–" "Suddenly, I need to stretch." Soonyoung says with a grin, and Mingyu rolls his eyes as Soonyoung tugs him up. Soonyoung is only two inches taller, but you find yourself whistling lowly at Mingyu's height.

"You're huge, dude." You look up at him, earning a huff from Chan. Mingyu smiles around the rim of his cup, shrugging as he takes a sip. "You're not the first to say that, but I can fit you in my schedule if you'd like to see what else is big." "Dude, no fair. He doesn't wash his socks, you know." Soonyoung scowls, making you snort. "Yeah? What about you, Soonie?" "Enough! We're out here to build a snowman that's better than your absolute monstrosity, not for you two to hit on my best friend until I vomit!" Chan stomps his foot like a toddler, and you laugh, patting his chest. "Chan, buddy, reign it in! Go get Rosie." He looks hesitant as his cousins make eyes at you. There's a pout on his lips as you pinch his cheek again, whispering in his ear. "Be a good boy and fetch, yeah?"

He should be embarrassed at how quickly his cheeks tinge pink at your words, ignoring his cousins' teasing as he turns on his heel to find Rosie. He watches from his peripheral as they joke with you, how easily they make you laugh and how you fit right in with the duo. His heart warms a bit at the idea of his extended family liking you so quickly, but the idea quickly gets shoved aside as he remembers how flirtatious and greasy his cousins can be. The next two hours are spent with Mingyu and Soonyoung calling you pretty and cute to bother Chan, and you instigating the compliments to get under his skin. Rosie got tired halfway through building the snowman, and made you promise you wouldn't finish it without her. She gave you the carrot for safekeeping, making you tuck it into your jacket pocket as your father hauled her into the house. Your mother and Mrs. Lee made a quick trip down to the restaurant, and your father and Mr. Lee opted to salt the driveways and sidewalks for the dinner trip later that day.

Chan? He's tonguing his cheek as he packs snow in his hand, hearing Mingyu call you gorgeous as you take a sip from his cup of coffee. He chucks it in his direction, hitting Mingyu square in the shoulder. Mingyu stops talking as he feels the impact, his jaw dropping as he sees the snow sliding off the leather of his thick jacket. He wipes the snow off his jacket with a boyish grin, and your eyes widen as Soonyoung quickly throws a snowball at Chan – who dodges it and lands one of his own on Soonyoung's chest.

You snort to yourself as the trio begin to throw snowballs of various sizes between each other, opting to settle in Mingyu's folding chair with your legs crossed. You hold his cup of coffee, before calling out to the men. "Whoever wins gets to help me pin Chan down and shove snow down his pants!" Mingyu smirks, running his tongue over his teeth as he zeros in on Chan – who is gaping at you. "Oh, come on! That's not fucking fair!" "Good luck!" You hold up Mingyu's cup, tilting it towards them as the two men begin to chase after Chan, who has a hefty head start as he hides behind your father's SUV before hopping the fence to your backyard. Your dad snorts as he salts the sidewalk you're sitting on, "You're awful to that boy, you know." "A little snow down the pants never killed anyone." You retort, making him shake his head. "How're Mingyu and Soonyoung? Nice fellas, eh?" "If you count them flirting with me to piss Chan off nice, I'd say so." You grin, and he rolls his eyes. "You're something else, honey. Just talk to the kid." "I do talk to him, Dad. Trust me, I talk. He just doesn't listen." Rolling your eyes, you hear something reminiscent of a battle cry when you see Chan pelting Mingyu and Soonyoung with snowballs as he whizzes past you and your father, making you both double over in laughter as they round the corner into the next neighborhood. It fades to quiet for a moment, before you hear yet another shriek, followed by a fuck yeah!

You and your father look up to see Mingyu holding Chan over his shoulder, thrashing in order to free himself. Soonyoung throws his scarf around Mingyu's waist, effectively tying Chan's legs to the bigger man. Chan slumps against Mingyu, and you almost feel bad as your father shakes his head at you, "Not too much snow, Y/N. Be considerate." "You got it, boss!" You call after him as he shuffles into the house, and Mingyu grins as he presents Chan to you, turning around to show you the defeated pout on his face. "You hate me, Y/N. You hate me and you're going to freeze my dick off with a chunk of snow." "I could never hate you, Channie. But, I do want you to suffer just a bit." You smirk, and he sighs. "Put me down!" "Will you run?" You take a sip of the cup, and Chan's eyes flash with jealousy. "No. But you can't use more than a snowball's worth of snow. Promise me." He holds his pinky out, and you wait until Soonyoung turns around to grab his coffee to peck his cheek. He flushes, but you can just barely tell under his wind-bitten skin. "No promises, Channie." Mingyu manages to wrestle his arms behind his back, Soonyoung just teasing Chan as they all watch you gather snow in your gloved hands. Chan whines pitifully in Mingyu's hold as you approach with a decent amount of snow in your hands and an evil smile on your face.

"Y/N, please. I'll beg, I will! Don't do this–" Your best friend squirms in Mingyu's arms, and you make kissy faces at him as your hand pulls at his waistband. The flannel lining is stark red against the white snow, and Chan braces himself as you press a shameless kiss to his forehead.

"Y/N, don't! I'll buy your breakfast for a month! I won't ever drop you during practice again, baby please–fuck!" Chan thrashes against Mingyu as the snow slides down his legs, having foolishly only worn the snow pants over his boxers. "Oh you fucking hate me, oh my God! Let me go!" He frees himself from Mingyu, who can barely hold himself up from laughing as Chan shakes the snow out of his pants, jumping around like a frog to warm himself up. "Go get in the shower before you get frostbite on your balls!" Soonyoung calls after him as he races into your house, making you snort as you finish off the last of Mingyu's coffee.

"Love that guy, he's so easy to torture." You roll your eyes as you take Mingyu's chair once more, earning a warm look from Mingyu. "How long did you guys date back then? He only told us so much." You shrug, "Couple months. A really good two months, but…just the two."

You toy with the cup, before Soonyoung sighs. "He's a good kid. Please don't break his heart again, I don't think he can take it." He rubs his neck, and Mingyu nods, kicking snow off his boot. "It's funny that we've never met you until now, Chan has talked about you as long as he's been able to." The statement makes you snort. "Yeah, well. Chan's a jealous guy, that's how we even started dating in the first place. He didn't like that his frat brothers were making eyes at me when I helped him move in, but I guess he just never understood that…" You trail off, clearing your throat when Soonyoung finishes your sentence. "Understood that he's the only one for you?" He tries, and you sigh, nodding. "Yeah." "That's cute. Like, so cute. Adorable, even." Mingyu teases, and you lightly punch his shoulder. "Shut up." "I always thought Chan would end up with you. The amount of times we'd have to kick him off the Playstation because he'd talk about you instead of playing his turn was insane." Soonyoung scoffs, taking a sip from his cup. "I think I've heard your favorite color at least eighty times in my lifetime, tell me it's still green." "It is still green, ha." You smile shyly, and Mingyu lies down in the snow, staring at the sky. "Well, it's nice to know Chan has someone who clearly cares. I know you guys broke up because of school, right? Too busy and all that." "I felt so overwhelmed. We broke up and he made the fucking Dean's list, I was crushed when I didn't. Then again, Chan's always been better at masking how he feels when it comes to…things between us." Shrugging, you feel the heat of Soonyoung's gaze.

"Finding out about all those girls must've gotten to you, huh? He was an idiot, I told him he was when he talked to me about it. He cried, too. Dumbass." Soonyoung rolls his eyes, and your own widen. "He cried? Why?" "He told me two years ago, I think it was summer. I came up here, but you'd gone to a cheer camp for a few days and you came back the day that I left. We got drunk in the backyard and he cried his eyes out about you, and how none of the girls compared to you." He shrugs, and Mingyu pipes up.

"I was there, too. My best friend was apparently the one who told him to fuck other girls, I cannot tell you how big of a fight we got into when I confronted him about it. It was so ugly, and I was pissed for so long."

"Wonwoo is also one to fucking talk, he's been stuck on one of my friends for ages. Last time he visited, I swear he lost his mind seeing her in her bikini." Soonyoung scoffs, and you nod quietly, "Chan is a dumbass, you're right."

"How long did it take you to move on? Did you?" Mingyu asks, propping himself up on his elbows. You frown, shaking your head. "I slept with one other guy, a year ago. It was okay, but you know." "It wasn't Chan." Soonyoung says softly, and you only slump in your chair. "I felt so pathetic. I still do, sometimes. It's hard not to think about those other girls when he's constantly just…there. He's both the angel and devil on my shoulder, he's consistently encouraging me but then he comes home for the holidays with me and he hurts my feelings." Mingyu sits up fully, a furrow on his brow as he looks at you.

"What do you mean?" "Ugh, it doesn't matter. It was stupid, and he apologized but now…now he's acting like he's in love with me, still. And I…don't know how to take it, or if I should believe him." You murmur, covering your face with your hands as Soonyoung hums. "Well, what did he say to make you think he's still in love with you?" "He said it, verbatim. He says he loves me, he said he wanted to try to win me back. He said that nothing meant anything to him after we broke up, and that he's looked for me in every girl he's been with since." Your voice is slightly muffled by your gloves, and you miss the endeared glances Soonyoung and Mingyu share.

"Then there you have it, Y/N. Not much to question when he's so outright, is there?" Soonyoung speaks around his cup, and you sigh, pushing yourself off the chair. "I guess…I don't know. We're taking a drive after dinner tonight, we might talk then. When do you guys leave?" "In about two hours. But, give us your contact information, you're funny." Mingyu holds his phone out, and you roll your eyes but quickly type in your information. Soonyoung hands you his as well, and they both send you a text to confirm their numbers. You give them each a hug goodbye, with Mingyu pinching your cheek and telling you to just go with the flow. Soonyoung ruffles your hair and tells you that at the end of the day, Chan is just a man and no matter how much you love him, you've got to put yourself first.

And you agree.

You don't get a chance to check in with Chan after saying goodbye to his cousins, because your father ropes you into waking Rosie up and helping her get dressed for dinner. You're holed away in her room, carefully curling her hair when she asks you about Chan.

"Do you hold hands with him?" She asks you suddenly, and you look at her in the mirror, the bathroom light making her dress glitter brighter. Hers was a soft ivory color, likely one to match your mother's. Your father had told you he'd get a champagne tie and pocket square so you'd all look cohesive, and you'd agreed as he left you to babysit Rosie – only for your mother to bang around in the kitchen moments after he left.

"With who, babycakes?" "With Channie, Y/N!" She whines as you spray her hair, and you snort. "Sometimes. When we cross the street, or sometimes just because. He's my best friend, we can do stuff like that." "Have you ever had a crush on him, Y/N?" She wiggles her eyebrows in the mirror, and you laugh, pressing a kiss to her hairline. "Yeah, I have. You can have crushes on your friends, it's very common. It's not always the best idea, though. It can be really hurtful if they don't like you back." "So were you boyfriend and girlfriend or not? Because you say no but Mommy said yes." She got you, hook, line and sinker. You gape at her, and her eyes are pointed as you scoff. "Okay, fine. We were boyfriend and girlfriend for a little bit." "A little bit!? Why not forever? Ugh!" She gripes, and you can only hold back your shock as you smear a little bit of sunscreen on her face. "Well, sometimes things just don't work out, babycakes. Plus, Channie and I will always be best friends." "Daddy told me that he and Mommy were best friends and now they're married. Maybe you and Channie can get married, too!"

You feel your chest grow warm at the idea of marrying Chan, and the fact that Rosie liked him so much that she wanted that for you. You recall your father also telling you the story of how he and your mother met, and why he was so adamant that you and Chan would figure it out. He told you that story so many times over the years, you had it practically memorized.

"Maybe, Rosie." You grin, kissing her nose. "No promises." "It's okay, Channie promised me." She shrugs, climbing out of her chair as you freeze. "What? What'd you say?" "I said, Channie promised me. I asked him yesterday when we were playing Barbies in the car. But it's a secret, so don't tell him I told you." She says sternly, making you gape as she abandons you to find your mother downstairs. You take a deep breath, ignoring the way your stomach fills with fluttering as you make your way downstairs. You see Chan sitting at the dinner table, hair mussed from the wind outside as your mother serves him a cup of coffee. His eyes catch yours, and you quickly look away as you jump the rest of the stairs and dart into your bedroom.

You barely make it to your bedroom without the tears spilling down your face, and you lock the door behind you. You slide down the door, pulling your knees to your chest as you think back to all the moments between you and Chan. All the times he said he loved you, all the times he said he couldn't imagine a life without you.

The time in the backseat of his car, almost three years to the date – where he said both over and over again. Where he dragged his lips anywhere you'd let him, whispers of how perfect you were for him and how insane you made him feel. Where he made you cry as he touched you just right, biting at your shoulders and digging his dull nails into your hips.

Where he told you that you'd tattooed your name across his heart and it was yours forever.

Your body shook with ragged sobs, and you forced yourself to get up off the floor as regret only sank further in. You broke up with him. It was the right thing to do, for the sake of your friendship and the idea of any future together. It was the right thing to do.

"Fuck." You hold yourself over the sink of your bathroom, splashing cold water on your face and letting it drip into the basin. Your tears mixed with the water, and you hear a soft knock at your bedroom door, before the doorknob wiggles. "Y/N? Are you alright in there?" It's your father. You quickly dry your face with a towel, tossing it into the sink before ripping the door open. "Hey, Dad. D'ya get your stuff?" "Honey, are you alright?" His face is worried as his hand comes up to your cheek, and you quickly nod. "I'm good, I promise. I just had one of those moments, you know. Seasonal depresh and what not." He quirks a brow at you, "Seasonal depresh?"

"Dad!" You whine, and he shrugs. "Yes, I got my pocket square. Can you check if it matches your dress? Oh, tell me you're gonna go for curls this year, because your mom is and she's mad that Rosie's are 'too tight.'" He rolls his eyes at the same time you do, making you snort. "Yeah, I'll check. I'm gonna start getting ready now, can you let Chan know so he doesn't come barging in here?" "He's at his house, he just left. He'll be driving you both, though, so you can be comfortable in your shoes." He nods, and you take the pocket square. "I'll get this to you when I'm done, okay?" "For sure, honey. I'll be back later, don't rush." He nods, closing the door as he leaves. You toss the pocket square onto the vanity, before looking into it with a slightly defeated look. You grimace, before grabbing a towel out of one of your drawers.

It didn't take you too long to get ready – you got in and out of the shower, and did your hair within two hours. Your makeup was done an hour later, with Rosie barging into your room and demanding you put lipstick on her, too. You rolled your eyes at her, telling her to say please, telling her to say thank you – both of which she did after you swiped the wine red on her lips. She scampered out of your room as you slipped into your closet, your mother appearing in your doorway to offer her help with zipping you up.

"You look just like me sometimes." She murmurs as she zips the dress, her fingers nimbly hooking the clasp at the top. She runs her fingers through the large curls you'd given yourself, smiling at you in the mirror. You give her a weak one in return, when she sighs, her hands on your shoulders.

"I wanted to apologize, baby." Her eyes are worried as you glance at them through the mirror, your fingers fumbling with the jewelry box in front of you. "Apologize? For what?" "A few years ago, I told you that I thought you were a little too harsh with your words around Chan. I think I went as far as calling you the brute of the relationship, didn't I?" She asks softly, and you look away as you tongue at your lower lip. "Yeah." "I'm sorry. I spoke to Chan earlier after his cousins left, he came in for a cup of coffee before he went to go get ready for dinner. I asked him a few questions about you, and he told me what he said to you a few days ago." She tucks a stray curl behind your ear, thumbing at the hoops she'd given you so many years ago. "It was really shitty of him to speak to you that way, and I told him so. I also told him that if he thinks he has even a remote chance of fixing things with you, that he better get on it soon. You're too kind for your own good sometimes, darling." "You think so?" You mumble, your eyes falling on a necklace Chan gave you for your birthday the year Rosie was born. You hadn't had a party that year, insisting Rosie was more important than anything else. He'd given it to you anyway, on the bus the morning of your birthday. You cried like a baby into his shoulder.

"I know so, honey. I know that somewhere in that heart of yours, you're waiting for him to make things right. Sometimes, I don't agree with it, but I also know you. I know you don't give anyone who doesn't deserve a second chance even a moment to speak to you. You're strong like that, just like your father."

You smile inwardly, her fingers lightly pinching your cheek. "I know you're good at taking care of yourself, but I also know Chan can take good care of you, too. I want you to be happy, and I know Chan makes you happier. You should've seen how you came into the house that year you were dating. You were smiling from ear to ear, like the Cheshire cat." She leaves with a kiss to your cheek, careful not to smudge her own lipstick onto it. She closes the door quietly, but not before you hear the Lees greet your father warmly as they filed into your home. You thumb at the necklace, the simple heart-shaped locket opening to a picture of you and Chan as teenagers. You often wore it open, liking when people asked you questions about the picture. No bigger than a coin, the gold locket has always been something you carried with you even if you didn't wear it.

"Y/N, I'm here for my pocket square!" Your father knocks on the door, and you open the door, holding it out. "Here you go." "Oh, honey! You look so pretty!" Your father covers his face as you spin, before he takes his pocket square. "Wow, you look so much like your mother sometimes." "Funny, she said the same thing." You snort, and he uses the vanity in your bedroom to fix his pocket square carefully. "We discussed seating charts, you're sitting between Chan and Rosie. Is that okay, or should I switch one of them out?" "That's fine. Can you actually send Chan in here? I need to talk to him." You nod, and your father glances at you in the mirror. "Are you sure?" "Positive. Won't take long."

Your father leaves with a kiss to your hairline, and you fumble with the necklace until you hear footsteps outside your door. You lean carefully, hearing a deep breath before a knock. "Come in." Chan slides through the door with closed eyes, almost like he's bracing himself for something. You snort, "What the hell is wrong with you? Open your eyes." "Your dad said you need to talk to me, and if you're going to dump me again, I don't need you to look beautiful doing it." He rushes out, making you gape. "Chan." "I'm serious. I haven't seen you yet but I know you look great. I mean, you always look amazing but I don't think I can handle you dumping me on Christmas Eve when you're in one of those pretty dresses you always wear." He can hardly breathe, and you can't help but laugh. "Nobody's getting dumped, please relax. I just need your help putting my necklace on." "I don't believe you, you could've asked your dad." He shakes his head, eyes screwed shut so tightly you're worried they might never open again. You walk over to him, running your fingers through his hair carefully, before thumbing at the small silver hoop in his ear. "You know we're not exactly together, right?" "In my mind, we've been married since we were in second grade and Hyewon officiated it." He scoffs, and you quirk an eyebrow. "Is that why you promised my sister we'd get married?" His eyes open wide, his lips parting slightly. "She told you?" "Oh good, your eyes are open. Help me put this on." You turn around, grabbing the necklace off your vanity. You pinch the chain carefully, holding it out to him when you look up to see his hand covering his mouth. His eyes rake over you slowly, and you feel your cheeks grow hot as he walks around you. You shift uneasily as he makes it back in front of you, "Do I look okay?" "Okay?" He whispers, making you look in the mirror. You run your hands down the bodice of the dress, "Is it too much?" "Too much?" He's still whispering, his eyes still running up and down your frame as you grow nervous. "Chan! You're freaking me out!" "Oh, baby." He murmurs, taking a few steps closer to you, taking your hand gently and making you spin for him. You feel nerves settle in your stomach, when he finally speaks. "You look so beautiful. I truly don't think words can express how absolutely angelic you look, are you real? Please tell me you're real, this would be a cruel dream." His eyes are wide and slightly glossy as he turns around, and you hear a soft sniffle. You watch his hands move around his face from behind him, your eyes growing wide as he turns back around, teary-eyed as he presses a kiss to your forehead. "No, it's not too much. You're never too much. You look great. Are you ready?" You gawk at him, "Chan, why are you crying?" "Nevermind that." He shakes his head, tucking a stray curl behind your ear. Your brows are furrowed, and you hold out the necklace. "Help me put this on." He glances at the necklace, his cheeks and ears burning a soft pink hue as you spin around, moving your hair to the front. He sighs shakily, carefully looping the locket around your neck and clipping it. You adjust the locket, your lips pursed as you open it. "Wear it like that." He speaks behind you, his hand appearing on your hip in the reflection. You raise a brow, closing the locket only to hear a whine as he rests his chin on your shoulder. Rolling your eyes, you open it, adjusting it to show the small photo of the two of you. "How was saying goodbye to your cousins? They had a lot to say about you." "It was fine. We sent them off with your mom's leftover cake, and Soonyoung finished it in the car before they even drove off. Mingyu was pissed." He snorts, and you hum quietly, reaching for the jewelry box once more. You sifted through your rings, Chan pressing a soft kiss to your jaw.

"I missed you." He pouts, and you give him a half-smirk as you peer down at him. "Did you, now?" "Stop talking to me like that, I'll get hard. You did it earlier too, but I was ashamed then, there were people around." He buries his face into your neck, and you snort out a laugh. "What are you talking about? I'm not talking to you in any sort of way." "Oh, so telling me to fetch like a dog isn't talking down to me?" He scoffs, cheeks aflame as he meets your eyes in the mirror. You suck your teeth, sliding on one of your rings with a shake of your head. "You liked that? You're something else, Chan." "I've literally always been like this, you just didn't notice before." Rolling his eyes, he wraps his arms around your waist. This is when you notice his suit jacket cuffed with silver cufflinks, a gift from your father years ago for graduation. You twist slightly, the top two buttons of his black shirt undone to show off a few layered chains. Some were gifts from you.

Your hand pushes him back slightly, his eyes never leaving your face as he lets you run yours all over him. Your fingers tug at his belt buckle, "You look really nice." "You can do better than that." He chides, and you swallow a scoff but roll your eyes as you pull him to you by his belt loop. You press your lips to his lightly, "You take what you're given, or nothing at all." He breathes out heavily against your lips, and you move your hand to rest on his stomach. "Are you ready? They're going to want to take pictures before we leave."

He can't reply, the two of you springing apart when you hear a knock at the door. You cough as Chan blinks, before opening it to reveal Rosie. "Hi, pipsqueak." "Mommy said that if you're not in the living room, she's going to leave you both here." She relays with a roll of her eyes, and you hold back a snort. "Can't have that, can we?" Rosie asks Chan to pick her up as you slide on one last ring, your fingers fumbling with the lights. Rosie's pink cast is around Chan's neck as he holds her on his hip, and you instinctively slot your fingers with his before remembering your parents will see you. He squeezes your fingers lightly, a sheepish smile on his lips as you let go.

"Wow!" Mrs. Lee is the first person you hear as you step into the living room, your cheeks burning as she clambers over. "Look at you, honey! Oh, you're so grown up." Her hands are tucking your hair behind your ears, the both of you missing the way Chan's eyes fill with adoration as he delivers Rosie to your father. He clears his throat inwardly, watching the way your parents move in front of your fireplace for photos. He can't keep his eyes off you the entire time, even as his parents shove the two of you together for a photo.

"Chan, don't act like you did on prom night. Act like you wanna be here." Your mother scolds him playfully, and you feel your heart flutter as you tug his arm around your waist. His fingers easily settle low on your hip, your own finding his shoulder and you rest your cheek on top. "Smile!" Chan's fingers squeeze your hip as everyone turns away, sneakily pressing his lips to your temple as you begin to move away. Your eyes are wide as he walks away, grabbing your coat off your father's hands and helping you slide it on from behind. Everyone is trying to help Rosie, and he takes the opportunity to whisper in your ear.

"I'm so in love with you. I wish things were different right now." He sighs, carefully tucking your hair into the hood of your coat. You feel your cheeks heat as you turn so he can zip it up, wrapping your scarf loosely around your neck as he connects the zipper at the bottom.

"I know. Eventually, okay? Just give me some time." You mumble back, tucking the end of your scarf into the coat as he nods defeatedly. You resist the urge to caress his cheek, run your fingers through his hair, kiss him. A weak smile is all you can muster as he straightens fully, adjusting your scarf so the zipper won't snag.

Your parents are looking your way, your mother watching the way Chan carefully zips your coat up. Your father smiles as he makes your mother turn away, "Your keys are in Chan's coat. Lock the door, come on." The two of you scramble behind your parents, Chan hastily shoving his coat on as you wrap his scarf around him as he walks forward. You tuck it into the coat as he zips himself up, his hand holding you steady in your heels as you step onto the porch. He locks the door quickly, trying the doorknob twice as your father helps your mother down the steps, and he offers his hand when he looks at your feet. "Y/N, why are your shoes open-toed? Are you out of your mind?" "I didn't have any heels that matched! It'll be fine!" You huff, and he gestures at the snowy pathway leading to your car. "Your toes are going to freeze and then you're going to get sick and die. Do you want to get sick and die, Y/N?" He scoffs, and you feel your scream caught in your throat as he picks you up princess-style. "Chan! Put me down!" He ignores you as he steps off the porch, carefully maneuvering his way to your car as you huff. Your lip is jutted out in a pout as he unlocks your car, bending at the knee to open your door and carefully set you down on the seat. He buckles your seatbelt in for you as your father pulls out of the driveway, giving you a honk as he turns out of your neighborhood. Chan shuts your door, rounding the front of the car to the driver's side. "You didn't have to do that." You mutter as he slides in, sticking the keys into the ignition as he shivers. "Yes, I did. Don't be brat, just let me take care of you." You don't reply, picking at your nails as he plugs his phone into the aux, handing it to you. Shuffling one of his playlists, the two of you freeze as you hear the opening notes of Meddle About by Chase Atlantic flow through the speakers. Chan purses his lips, single handedly unplugging his phone and tossing it into the backseat. "Nope. No music tonight, it seems."

"I thought you liked that song." You reach for his phone, grabbing it off the edge of the backseat and sliding it into the cupholder as he pulls out of the neighborhood. He has a tick in his jaw as he flicks on the turn signal, "I like it when we're in the backseat and you're on top of me, not when I'm driving you to dinner and not when you're in my clothes on the drive to your house." Your jaw could very well be on the floor the way you're gaping at him, his fingers reaching over to close your mouth. "Chan." "What? I think about that night all the time." He scoffs, turning onto the main street that makes the drive to your mother's restaurant five minutes longer. His hand floats down to your thigh, settling high on it through the slit of your dress. Tonguing your cheek, you stare out the window as your hand settles atop his. "You mean the night that–" "Shut up." You snicker to yourself, sliding your fingers between his. "You know it's not the worst thing in the world, right? Tons of people have breeding kinks." He winces as you say it, making a strangled noise of discomfort from his seat before glancing at you. "Y/N, I want you to take a really good look at me right now and tell me that it wasn't weird." He scoffs, and you shrug, facing him.

"It wasn't weird. I liked it." You admit, "I think the slightly weirder part was calling you daddy, but some things you do out of…you know." You trail off, feeling your cheeks hot as you look out the window. Chan makes a noise of approval, his hand flipping beneath yours to interlace your fingers. He brings your knuckles to his lips, a chaste kiss pressed on top of your rings. "I know, babe." The rest of the ride is silent, some shy glances shared before you pull into the parking lot where your father is waiting with Rosie. You smile, squeezing his hand in the shadow of the center console before letting go. Chan pulls around the building, looking for a parking spot. "We're still taking that drive later, right?" "If you're not too tired, or drunk." He snorts, and you gasp, landing a soft smack to his arm. "I got drunk one time!" "You called me daddy one time, I think that goes to show that you're game for anything at least once." He teases, and you sigh inwardly. "I guess that's true." "I know it is, I know you like the back of my hand. I love you." He says, mostly to himself as he pulls into a spot just a few feet from the door. Killing the engine, he looks over the steering wheel at your father. "Can your dad see us from here?" "I don't think so, he's entertaining Rosie. Why?" You unbuckle your seatbelt as he gets out, and you feel the door close as he rounds the car to open your door. You wait, before feeling the cold gust of winter air rush into the car. You shiver, grabbing Chan's phone out of the cupholder and taking his hand to step out. He pulls you close, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ears as you look into his eyes. "Something wrong?" "No." He shakes his head, a soft smile on his lips as he thumbs at your earlobes. You tilt your head at him, eyes narrowed. "Are you sure?" "Don't drink tonight." He presses a kiss to your forehead, and you nod slowly. "Any special reason?"

He shrugs, before looping his arm with yours and pulling you towards the front of the restaurant. You can't help but look up at him with a shy smile as he guides you around piles of snow, before seeing the flash of a camera. You blink rapidly, before looking up to see your father holding Rosie on his hip, her hands holding a camera. Chan greets your father warmly, and Rosie shows him the photo. "Can I see, too?" You ask, peering over Chan's shoulder when Rosie tilts it away. "No." Your pout does nothing to sway your baby sister, making Chan snicker at you. The four of you walk into the restaurant, the warm air of the establishment like a blanket fresh out of the dryer. "I still can't believe your parents named both their businesses after you." Chan murmurs as you walk to the reserved room your mother arranges every year, and you snort.

"What can I say, they love me." You shrug, resting your head on his shoulder. Rosie looks over your father's shoulder, a crinkle in her nose as she sees the closeness between the two of you. "Are you sure you're not boyfriend and girlfriend?" "We're sure, babycakes." You laugh softly, moving to pull yourself away from Chan but feeling his fingers interlace with yours before you can. You glance at him, only to see him sticking his tongue out at Rosie, who blows a raspberry at him. A pit of anxiety opens in your stomach as your father opens the door for you both, letting you slip by when you feel Chan's fingers let go of yours, and a murmur of Can I talk to you, sir?

Rosie enters with you, Chan and your father lingering at the door before they take a turn back outside. Your eyes widen as Rosie leads you to the table, your mother sharing the same quizzical look. "Y/N, where's Chan? Did you guys fight?" "No, no. He's…he's with Dad." You reply absently, pulling your coat off as your mother helps Rosie out of hers. The table is set and covered entirely with food, the roast pig being the main attraction in the center of the table. You find your seat, pulling Rosie closer to you to fill the strange pit you feel. Chan and your father don't appear for another ten minutes, but they're both rather stoic as they enter – but you see a soft smile on his face as Chan takes his seat opposite your father.

"Everything okay?" Mrs. Lee asks gently, and Chan nods. "Don't worry, all good." If anyone notices how quiet you are during dinner, they don't say anything. You feel the heat of Chan's gaze more than once, but everyone is too wrapped up in the food and the conversation – to even notice the fact that Rosie fell asleep into her mashed potatoes. You're the one who realizes she's fallen asleep, cooing as you carefully wipe her face and wrap her coat around her as her head lolls onto your arm. You scoot closer, lifting her onto your lap and resting her head on your chest.

"Did she fall asleep?" Your mother asks incredulously, making you snort. "Right into her mashed potatoes. Don't worry, I got it." You wrap your arms around her, leaning back in your chair. "Your dinner, though?" Your mother points at your picked plate, and you shrug. "I'll take it home. No big deal, I'm not exactly hungry. I could fall asleep right now, too." You shake your head, running your fingers through your sister's hair. Your mother nods, beckoning one of her waitstaff to wrap the plate up for you. His name is Hansol, and he carefully takes your plate and disappears with it.

Dinner continues for a few more hours, and you reach over to Chan and tug on his sleeve. He gives you a glance, concern in his eyes before you tap your wrist. He checks his watch, flashing it to you. Midnight. You wince, looking over to your father to see him glancing at his own watch. "Oh, man. It's really late, we should get going." He hisses, and your mother's eyes widen as she sees the time. "Shit, I told them we'd be out by eleven. Alright, up. Let's get going." Your father takes Rosie from your lap, and your mother carefully pulls her coat over the pink cast. You watch tentatively, ready to step in at any moment when you feel Chan's hand on your shoulder. Jumping slightly, you feel the soft fabric of your coat. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. Arms, please." You don't look at him as he works around you, until Rosie is on your father's hip and Chan is wrapping your scarf around you. "You're distracted tonight. Everything okay?" Chan's voice is soft as he zips your coat up, his own already settled on his frame. "What did you and my dad talk about?" You blurt, and he raises a brow as he follows the four parents out of the room, who are still chattering about everything and anything. He scans your face, concern weighing heavy on his brows before he smiles. "I didn't ask him to marry you, if that's what you're worried about. That's further down the line." Seeing the way your shoulders settle, Chan loops his arm with yours. "Did you want me to ask him?" You don't respond, letting him lead you out of the restaurant. Your parents are all still talking as your father buckles Rosie into her carseat, her eyes opening slightly as you pass by. You wave at her, only for her eyes to close again. Smiling to yourself, you wait for your parents to acknowledge you and Chan waiting by the front of your father's SUV.

"Going for a drive?" Your mother asks gently, and you nod. "Home soon, don't worry." You hold your pinky out, only for your father to clasp it with his own. "Take your time. Drive safe."

Your eyes search your father for answers, and he only smiles. "See you at home, honey."

Nodding slowly, you and Chan bid your parents goodnight, your mother's eyes lingering as Chan walks you back to the car. You can feel your chest a bit tight as he opens your door, but give him a strained smile as he gets into the driver's seat.

"Alright, what's eating you? Besides me." He jokes lightly, pulling out of the parking lot. You see your parents' car already at the stoplight in the street, the light turning green just as Chan pulls into the street. "Nothing." "You're lying." He plugs his phone into the aux as the light turns red, a click of his tongue as he presses shuffle on yet another random playlist. The soft melody of Scared To Live by The Weekend pours out of your speakers as he takes the oh-so-familiar turn down the same road you've taken this drive on every year. It's scenic, it's always decked with Christmas lights and it leads you right to a random cliff that overlooks the entire city. You sigh as he holds his hand out for yours, interlacing your fingers and leaning back on the headrest. You recline your seat a bit, crossing your legs at the knee. He lets go of your hand and you cover your face with your arms, his fingers sliding up and down your exposed thigh.

"You can always talk to me, you know." He murmurs over the music, this time it's Fantasy by Bazzi. You nod silently, hearing a hum from him as he traces circles into your skin with his thumb. The drive is silent aside from the music, Chan's comfort seeping into your body via his hand and your shoulders losing their tension as he pulls into the deserted cliff. You'd found it years before you went to college, and enjoyed retreating there to get high together behind your parents' backs. You also exchanged one Christmas gift here every year, basking in the privacy and security of each other's warmth on the hood of whoever's car you took that time.

"So? What's going on?" He parks the car, lowering the music as he turns to look at you. You peek at him from beneath your arms, a pout on your lips. "Nothing, really. I'm good."

Chan moves your arms from your face, his fingers coming to poke at your cheeks with every word. 'You are such a bad liar, baby."

You groan, "It's stupid. It's so stupid because you're probably not going to have to deal with until you're in your fucking thirties but I've been dealing with it since I was in high school." Your pout makes Chan thumb at your lip, an understanding look in his eyes. "You mean that same conversation your parents keep having with you about having kids and getting married?" "Yes! Ugh, that's why I was so quiet at dinner. And why I was so pissy on the way here from campus. I do not want to have this fucking conversation again this year, especially when I don't even know what's going to happen when we leave." You fall back into your seat, feeling Chan's hand cup your knee. "I'm so sick of being asked the same shit, I'll get married when I get married and I'll have kids when I have kids. What about my career? No one but you and my dad ask about what I want to do after college. What if I want a master's degree? What if I want a doctorate?" Chan listens intently, his eyes flowing between worried and understanding. "Well, what if? Do you want to do that? What do you want to do after we graduate? Do you want to move back here, do you want to move somewhere else, do you want to pursue something more? Do you want to work full-time?" "What does it matter what I want? You want to get married, Chan." You sigh, and he shakes his head. "It matters because you're your own person, not an extension of me. I don't want to get married if you don't want to, and definitely not if we're not well established. Stable present makes for a stable future, and I want things to be just as easy as they always have been between you and me. You call my name, I come. If time is the issue, I'll wait. I waited my entire life before freshman year, and I've waited three years since then."

You peer up at him, "So you're serious about marrying me? You weren't kidding?" "Respectfully, I don't think you've ever sounded more insane than you do right now." He scoffs, sitting up and pulling you with him. Your lip is jutted out in a slight pout as you thumb the seam of your dress, Chan's fingers grazing your jaw as he makes you look at him.

"I love you, Y/N. I'd wait an eternity for you, as long as you're happy. I want you to feel fulfilled, and I know that you're not going to if I try to tie you down with bullshit. Yes, I want to get married. Yes, I want to marry you. You've seen me through every stage of my life and as painful as it may have been for you because I've been an absolute douche, you stuck by me. I don't know how else to make you understand that you're important to me, and that includes embracing who you are as an individual. Even if you say no to anything I offer, the house, the ring, the kids, the fucking pursuit of happiness by my side…none of it matters as long as I know that you're happy with yourself." You don't realize you're crying until his thumbs wipe at your cheeks, his fingers tucking your hair behind your ears. "I love you, endlessly. I'll always be here, and I know maybe that's not what you need to hear to be comforted but I need you to know that." You sniffle slightly, "What if my mother pressures me enough that I make a rash decision? What if she manages to get to me just like she always has?" "She won't. Even if she did, I know you in ways she doesn't. I know every side of your heart, I know how kind and forgiving it can be and I know how cold and cruel it can be. I know you're strong and independent and you don't need me to ever speak up on your behalf, but if ever your voice is lost on you, I can. I have, and I will continue to do so. Your honor is mine, even if mine isn't yours."

You rest your forehead on his shoulder, wanting the conversation to end. "I forgot your gift at the house. I'm sorry."

"That's alright. I still have yours, if you want to go sit while I get the blanket." He presses a kiss to the shell of your ear, allowing you to change the subject. "I feel bad, though." "Go sit for me." He nips at your ear, making you jolt as you shove him. He smirks as you scoff, wiping at your face carefully as you open the door and step out. You shudder as the cold hits your feet, but you hoist yourself onto the hood of your car as Chan pulls the thick blanket you brought from your apartment out of your trunk. The metal is still warm before you feel him kill the engine, the motor dying under you as he shuts the door, shoving your keys into his pocket. He drapes the blanket over your face as you feel him grab your ankle. Jolting, you push the blanket off, seeing a pair of socks clenched between his teeth as he undoes the strap of your shoe.

"Where the fuck did you find those?" You let him slide the black sock over your foot, and he shrugs. "Your cheer bag is still in the trunk. I know these are new, though, because I put them in there before we left for practice last week." He shrugs, slipping off the other shoe and putting the sock on, covering you with the blanket once more as he rounds the car to throw the shoes into the backseat. You stare at the clear sky as he slides onto the hood next to you, a soft sigh from his lips as you drape the blanket over his leg.

"I didn't ask your dad to marry you, I promise. I just talked to him about how I felt and what he thinks I should do." You hear him say softly, and you turn to see him looking at you already. Your brow raises, and he holds up a white box. It's from the jewelry store you found Rosie and Mrs. Lee in when you went to the mall, the silver logo stamped on the top. "He said I should be honest and tell you what I want, and listen to what you have to say. So, uhm…this is more for you and I than anyone else, but I…I understand if you don't want it." He pops it open, a slim gold band slotted into the cushion with a thicker one, presumably for him. The rings are studded with stones, emeralds and sapphires with smaller white diamonds scattered about. You look at him, a certain softness to your gaze that has only ever been present for him.

"A promise ring?" He shifts under your gaze, cheeks tinging pink as he sits up, sliding off the hood of the car. He paces slightly, "I know it's so…ugh, it's so high school. And we're not even together, and I'm willing to wait–" "I'm not." You interrupt, "I'm tired of waiting, Chan."

His eyes are wide as you shrug, holding your hand out for the box. "Can I see?" He hands it to you, your fingers pinching the delicate band and holding it up to your eyes. "Is this what you bought when you were fighting your mom at the register?" "It's also why your class ring went missing last month, but that's neither here nor there." He admits sheepishly, making you gape. "You took it! You little rat, I knew you had something to do with it."

"I needed it for the sizing! And I got it back! Do you…do you like it?" He asks shyly, resting his hands on either side of your legs as he leans closer to you. You nod, "I love it, it's beautiful. Good eye, I guess." "Can't you just give me a compliment without making it sound so forced?" He rolls his eyes as you replace the ring, holding the box in your hand. You shake your head, "I'll have a lifetime to do that. Do I get to put yours on for you?" "You're taking it? You're saying yes, I mean?" His eyes are wide as he scans your face, and you scoff. "Obviously? We still have a lot of growing to do, but I don't take the steps to make a decision unless I know it's the right thing to do. You know that." "Including breaking up with me on my birthday?" "Including saying yes when you ask me to be your girlfriend in about two minutes. I should make you wait, but I'm impatient." He rolls his eyes, leaning slightly closer. You smile as you nuzzle your nose against his, feeling your cheeks heat as he brushes his lips to yours. "I love you." "You're right, I do deflect a lot." He laughs, peppering kisses around your face as you scrunch your nose. "Be my girlfriend, please. I'd be nothing of a man without you." "I mean, I guess if you want me that bad–" "Respond properly or I'm taking your socks off." "Yes, I'll be your girlfriend." You roll your eyes, pressing a kiss to his lips. He kisses you back softly, his hands moving to hold your face carefully. "You know the ring means you'll also say yes to being my fiancée and then my wife, right?" He speaks against your lips, kissing you between words. "Mhm." You hum in response, before taking the thicker ring out of the box in your hand. "Let me put this on you. You can't take it off, like, ever."

"Wait, you first." He pulls away, taking the ring out of the box and sliding it into his coat pocket. He takes your hand in his carefully, "I think I'm gonna cry." "That's okay. I've seen you cry before. I've seen you throw up and I still think you're a pretty okay guy." You joke to ease him, noting the way his fingers tremble slightly as they slide the ring down your finger. It fits snugly, and he runs his thumb over it a few times before looking up at you. "Are you sure?" "Are you?" You hold up his ring, and he nods slowly. "If I'm not sure of anything else in this life, I have the comfort of knowing I'll always be sure of you." "When did you become so profound?" You tease, slipping the ring down his finger. He scoffs, "What part of you deflect and I don't did you forget? I've always been this way! You've just gotten good at ignoring me because you don't like to admit my compliments make you feel some type of way." "You just make me nervous." You confess quietly, tugging on the lapel of his coat. "You think you don't make me nervous? I can't talk to you sometimes without getting my tongue twisted."

"Your tongue does better things than talk, Chan." "I thought we were having a wholesome moment here." He flicks your forehead, your hand moving up to swat his hand away. He grabs it midair, pressing a kiss to your fingertips. "Are we still keeping this under wraps?" Your eyes widen, "Shit, are we?" "I mean…my mom knows I got these." He winces, and you click your tongue. "Your mom also told me you're a crybaby who called her and said I broke your heart."

"I may be a crybaby but at least I can tell someone when I love them." He scoffs, making you furrow your brows. "You wanna play that game? Because I have so much shit from Soonyoung and Mingyu, too." "Tell me you love me!" He whines, and you roll your eyes. "I'm your girlfriend, not your puppet. I'll tell you when I'm good and damn ready." "Great, I'm ending the year with a girlfriend that hates me." He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before sucking his teeth. "I did this to myself." "If you get me out of the cold within the next twenty seconds, I'll let you go down on me when we get home." You offer, before a shriek rips through you as he throws you over his shoulder.

"As you wish, girlfriend."

DECEMBER 31, 9:42PM.

Chan in fact, did go down on you when you got home. Twice on your bed without even taking your dress off, and once in the shower. Your legs could barely hold you up, but that doesn't really matter when your boyfriend forgets his own strength while pinning you against the bath tile.

Christmas Day was rather uneventful aside from unwrapping gifts, with Rosie screaming excitedly about the extensive sets of Legos and Barbie dolls you and Chan got for her. Your parents gifted you and Chan a vacation to Bali, set for after your graduation, as well as a new pair of earrings. The Lees gave you a rush of nostalgia as they gave you yet another locket, this one with a picture of you and Chan as babies.

Chan watched the exchanges quietly, and the night concluded with you and him falling asleep watching a movie in your bed. His parents never did make him move to his bedroom after Mingyu and Soonyoung left, and your parents didn't mind him staying so long as you were fine with it. You still didn't fuck him, but he was perfectly content with waiting – so long as you didn't mind his tongue between your thighs in the middle of the night or at the crack of dawn. You spent the next few days simply existing within your families. You got your nails done with Mrs. Lee, and took Rosie along with you. Rosie got her cast off and cried when the physician cut through your signature, tears only stopped by a scoop of chocolate almond ice cream on a waffle cone. You spent a bit of time with your mother at the restaurant, tasting a few of her new recipes and coming home to sleep in Chan's arms with a stomach ache from all the food. Per usual, Chan continued his whispered sweet nothings and you shied away from him often, only for him to pull you back into his embrace and kiss you until you couldn't breathe, followed by murmurs of I love you.

The days were quiet, and your families were slowly growing used to having you and Chan around – something that always backfired on them, because the two of you usually left a day or two after ringing in the New Year together. It helped you beat the traffic back, and it helped you decompress from spending so much time with Chan.

Not that you'd need to do that this time…because, well. You know.

"Do I look okay?" You ask your mother for the billionth time, smoothing your hands over the front of your dress. She rolls her eyes as she sprays a bit of perfume in the middle of your back, making you flinch at the sensation. "You look lovely, darling. Please, get a grip! This is just the same people we've rung the New Year in with every year. Nothing new, nothing to be nervous about."

Your mother sprays perfume on her wrists, before dabbing them on her neck. "Go downstairs, check on Rosie. I'm going to be so upset if your father let her have anything that could stain that dress, it was too expensive to ruin." You sigh shakily, looking at yourself in the full-length mirror your mother had in her bedroom. Your dress was black and glittery, ending at your mid-thigh with an open back that left little to the imagination as it stopped just at the dip of your spine. It had straps that sat off your shoulders with a low-cut neckline, and you only wore a necklace that Chan had bought to play off the rings he'd gotten you. It sat nicely at the base of your throat, the only gift he gave you in front of your parents.

"Y/N!" Rosie called from the bottom of the stairs as you reached the first one, and you smiled down at her as you made your way down. "Babycakes! You look so pretty in your dress!"

"Thank you!" She beams up at you, holding a pink lollipop in her hand. Your father is sitting on the couch, eyes closed as you walk up behind him. "Catching up on sleep, old man?" "You know it. I love having you kids here, but I'm exhausted from all the socializing. I only have so many things to say." He sighs, and you snort. "Don't worry, just a few more days. Chan and I are leaving on the third, I think."

It's not long before your mother comes downstairs, her dress a sparkly burgundy this year. Her lipstick matches it, and your father presses a kiss to her temple as he helps her tug her coat on. Rosie is settled on your hip, her head resting on your shoulder as the four of you walk over to the Lees, and you already regret the thin coat you chose to layer over your dress. You shiver as you walk up the steps to the porch, Rosie fighting sleep as you bounce her around.

"Don't sleep, Rosie! It's just a little party!" You wiggle her around, her giggle tired as your mother knocks on the front door. Chan appears as he throws it open, ushering everyone inside. His eyes meet yours, widening at the necklace sitting on your skin. You feel your cheeks heat as you walk past him, setting Rosie down and tugging her coat off as he closes the door. You lower to her height, "Don't fall asleep, okay? You feel sleepy, come find me." You tap her cheeks, and she nods as she trails off to find your mother, who is greeting Mrs. Lee with the bottle of wine you brought over. Chan helps you stand upright, a soft smile on his face as he pulls you into a hug. "I haven't seen you since this morning. I missed you, gorgeous." He mumbles into your ear, and you roll your eyes as you weasel out of his embrace. "You always miss me. I'm literally across the lawn." You tug your scarf off, and he takes it, his hand awaiting for your coat. "What did your dad make this year?" You nod in the direction of the kitchen, the rich smell of lemongrass and garlic filling the house. He opens his mouth to respond, only for his words to get caught in his throat as you slide your coat off, his eyes landing on the expanse of your back. It's speckled with glitter, courtesy of your mother, and you swing your hair behind you as you hand him your coat.

"What? Are you okay?" Your voice is concerned as you glance at him, your hands moving to smooth the front of your dress. He blinks, before his mother's voice cuts through the air. "Y/N! Oh my, let me see your dress! Give me a spin!" She sets her wine glass down on the table, and you give her a warm hug before she spins you around. "You look stunning! Come, we have to take your picture." You give Chan a glance over your shoulder, his ears red as he snaps out of his daze, hanging your coat on the door as Mrs. Lee pulls you into the living room with your parents. She poses you all in front of her Christmas tree, before it's just you and Rosie. Rosie yawns as Mrs. Lee takes the photo, and you tell her it's best to just let the kid take a nap. "You can put her down in the guest bedroom, but can I get a picture with you and Channie first?" She nods, and you open your mouth to protest but she calls him over before you can say anything. He looks a bit bewildered as he walks over, clearing his throat as he stands next to you. You feel an awkward air floating off of him as he makes no move to touch you, and Mrs. Lee huffs. You quickly wrap his arm around your waist like you did on Christmas Eve, expecting his hand to fall in the same low spot on your hip – but you feel it ghosting over your back as you resume the same position. You don't say anything, just smiling as Mrs. Lee snaps your photo. She thanks you, turning away with the permission to drop Rosie in the guest bedroom.

"Wanna tell me what your problem is?" You mutter to Chan, who sucks his teeth. "Wanna tell me why you wore this dress?" "Oh, so I'm the problem? Good to know." You grit, before you pick Rosie up off the couch, hoisting her over your shoulder as you make your way to the guest bedroom. Chan follows closely behind you without you realizing, and is leaning in the door frame as you tuck Rosie into the bed, carefully covering her with the blanket so as to not be blamed for creases in her dress. You kiss her forehead, walking out of the bedroom only to bump into Chan, who grabs your arm and pulls you into his bedroom with a quick tug. "Bro." You're frustrated, pinching the bridge of your nose as you pull your arm out of his grasp, only for him to pull you into him by your waist. "Don't call me bro, I literally made you cum on my tongue this morning." He scoffs, his grip is bruising against your skin. "Who's the insatiable one now? Over a dress? Really?" You roll your eyes, but it seems your boyfriend has no time for your goading as he pushes you against his door, lips pressed against yours in a searing kiss. You melt into him, your arms wrapping around his neck as he slides his hands down your back. He pulls away with a nip to your lip, leaving you to pout as you chase after him. "Not just a dress, you in this fucking dress. What were you thinking?" "Wanted you to see me in it." You confess quietly, your eyes glued to his lips, now slightly stained with your red lipstick. He sighs, "Don't act cute. I can't be mad when you do that." "Don't be mad at me. Don't you think I look pretty?" Your eyes feign innocence, blinking up at him as he groans in lust-fueled frustration. "Not mad at you, baby. Never mad at you." He rests his forehead against yours, "I want you so fucking bad, it's pathetic." "Have me." You murmur, nosing at him as he shakes his head. "I can't, not right now. Certainly not in my parents' house." "Oh, but when it's my parents' house, it's fine??" You snort, making him laugh softly, brushing a kiss against your lips. "For old time's sake, I'll say yes. Keeping up with traditions and whatnot."

"They're gonna wonder where we are." You sigh, before feeling his hands travel further south. You swat them away, "If you're not gonna fuck me, you can't feel me up and leave me all needy. It's not fair." "I like it when you're needy." He kisses your jaw, and you scowl, pinching his nipple through his shirt. Of course, the rat bastard only leans into your touch, eliciting soft whine from his throat. "You're such a fucking freak!"

"You're literally the reason I'm this way. You're the blueprint." He rolls his eyes, before he turns you over, pushing your chest against the door as he presses his hips into you. Your eyes flutter shut, a soft sigh falling from your lips as he grinds against you. His fingers toy with the hem of your dress, shoving it up slightly when you hear a gasp from his lips.

"Oh, you've gotta be fucking kidding me."

He moves away entirely, and you feel him sink to his knees behind you. He pushes your dress up, the fabric bunching around your hips to expose your bare ass. You'd forgone underwear in hopes of things going this direction tonight, but certainly not this early in the night. But by all means, you're willing to let bygones be bygones as long as Chan keeps touching you.

You can almost hear his internal battle as he pushes you forward a bit, spreading your thighs with his hands. "You're gonna kill me one day, aren't you? In cold blood. I'll be dead because you can't behave." He's fighting himself as you glance over your shoulder, a look feigning disinterest on your face as you shrug. "Take it or leave it."

He chooses to leave it, but not before sinking his teeth into your thigh, pinning your arm to your back when you reach to swat at him. "Chan!" "Shut up, they'll hear you." He rolls his eyes as he stands, using his free hand to massage the bitten area. "You can wait, right? It's only two hours." "I don't want to." You pout, pushing back against him. He lands a quick slap to the meat of your ass, your cheeks flushed as he whispers in your ear. "You're gonna have to, baby. Be a good girl for me, yeah?"

You huff, squirming against him when you feel his hand slip between your thighs. His fingertips drag slowly through your wet folds, just barely breaching your entrance when he pulls them away. "Open your mouth."

You turn to see him licking his fingers clean, your heart beating wildly in your chest as he repeats himself. "Open. Don't make me do it for you."

"Kiss me first." He does as you ask, tugging the fabric of your dress back down as he snakes his tongue into your mouth. Your hands fist at the lapels of his suit jacket, whining into his mouth before he pulls away. Your lips jut out in a pout, a soft chuckle from Chan before he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "Open up." You do as you're told, sticking your tongue out for him to spit onto. Your eyes flutter shut the moment you feel it, his hand on your jaw pulling you forward to kiss him. Your legs feel like jelly at his touch, feeling him mumble those three little words against your lips.

"I love you. Don't act up and I won't, either." He holds his pinky out, and you reluctantly link yours with it. He wipes the corners of your lips, "Go. I have to…calm down."

"Tell me you love me again." You look up at him, making him roll his eyes as he bites back a smile. "If I tell you again, will you get out?" "Maybe." You smile back, making him physically turn you, his hands on your shoulders as you turn the doorknob to his room. "I love you, baby. Now, go." You slink out of his bedroom, shutting the door behind you as you slip into the bathroom. Your skin feels hot as you look in the mirror, your lipstick only slightly smudged – a blessing, truly. You pat your fingers over your swollen lips, before checking the hem of your dress. You tug it lower, making sure it covers everything before ruffling your hair and taking a deep breath.

Two hours. Easy.

Not easy.

It's been an hour and forty-five minutes, and you can feel your patience wearing thin as Chan acts like nothing happened.

He's standing across the room, talking to your mother with a soft smile on his face – just like he has been for the last thirty minutes. His wine is the same color as her dress, listening to her drone on and on about the benefits of turmeric in cooking as well as body products. Your cheek is resting on the heel of your palm, your other hand holding your second flute of champagne as you stare at your boyfriend without a care in the world – when you see a little head start floating your way, a frumpled blue dress catching your eye.

"Y/N?" She calls tiredly, rubbing her eyes as she looks around for you. "Babycakes! I'm over here, come sit with me!" You pat your lap, setting your champagne on the table as she makes her way over to you. She climbs into your lap and you smooth her hair down as she rests her head on your shoulder.

"How was your nap? Any good dreams?" You ask, twirling a piece of her hair in your fingers. She shakes her head, "No dreams. Just sleep." She shrugs, yawning as she buries her face into your neck. You wrap your arms around her, rocking back and forth and humming quietly.

It's not even five minutes when she falls limp with sleep in your arms, and you rest your cheek atop her head as Mrs. Lee makes way to you, her silver dress stunning as she extends her hands. "Do me a favor, honey. Go steal Chan from your mother, we're going to start the countdown soon and I'm sure you want to spend a few moments with him.” Her eyes twinkle like she knows something, taking Rosie from your lap. You nod sheepishly, standing up and tugging your dress down slightly. You grab your flute of champagne, smiling inwardly as you make your way across the living room to Chan's side. You squeeze your mother's shoulder lightly to get her attention, her voice stopping in the middle of a rosemary and thyme soap recipe she's reciting. "Yes, darling?" "Rosie's up. Might wanna check on her, I can't gauge if she'll sleep tonight." You wince, and your mother nods, putting her wine glass down on the coffee table. She walks away, your father joining her in the kitchen when you feel Chan's hand on your lower back. "Hey." He pulls you into his side, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin. You try not to lean into the touch, a soft smile on your lips. "Hey. Tired?" "Exhausted, actually. I do not want to be here right now." He sighs, and you open your mouth to reply when you see Mr. Lee turn the television on to the New Year's Eve countdown from the Lotte World Tower. You smile to yourself as Chan shuffles you both behind the couch, his hand keeping skin-on-skin contact the entire time. You miss the glance your father gives you as you lean your head on Chan's shoulder, the way Chan's fingers run up and down your side.

You miss the way your mother joins him in looking at the two of you, the way Chan's looks at you adoringly. The way your arm wraps around his waist, and your fingers trace circles into his side, the glint of the ring he gave you mocking her in the light. Your mother gives your father a look, one that screams is that what I think it is? Your father only shrugs, draping his own arm around her shoulders and making her face the television. The reporter is excitedly moving around the prepared stage, talking a mile a minute about all the musical achievements by artists in a rapid fire attempt to fill the last two minutes to the countdown. Mrs. Lee slots her fingers with her husband, and you find yourself finding Rosie's sleepy eyes on your father's shoulder. She smiles, giving you a thumbs up and you scrunch your nose at her, giving one back. She points at Chan, and you tap him to get his attention for her. He looks up, meeting her eyes and receiving the same reaction. He gives her one back, and she closes her eyes, turning the other way.

"She's adorable." He murmurs as you look up at him, "She is." The reporter smiles widely as the large number 10 splays on the television. Your parents break into chatter, Chan's parents drifting over to yours slowly. You tug at Chan's sleeve, earning a hum as he looks at you once more.

"Do you ever think about what our kids will look like?" You whisper, and he nods. "Sometimes." 9…

"Do you have names?" "A few."

8…

"Do you think about our wedding?" "All the time. I'm going to cry like a fucking baby." 7…

"How do you feel about a summer wedding?" "Whatever you want, baby. I'd get married in the woods if you wanted." 6…

"Like in Breaking Dawn?" "That wedding was beautiful. I cried, remember?" 5…

"I do. You cry a lot, you know?" "Emotional vulnerability is sexy, is it not?"

4…

"You think so?" "I know so." 3…

"Hey, Chan?" "Yes, Y/N?" 2…

"Are you gonna kiss me?" "Yeah, babe. I'm gonna kiss you." 1…

"I love you." You mumble, pressing your lips to his as the reporter boasts a Happy New Year from Lotte World Tower!

His hand is low on your back as he kisses you deeply, your own holding his cheek as your parents cheer and congratulate each other. You hear a soft voice above it all, "Channie and Y/N are kissing."

You pull back from Chan to see your parents gaping at you, and Rosie smiling before she lays her cheek back on your father's shoulder. "I told you they were boyfriend and girlfriend. You owe me fifty bucks, Mommy."

You gawk at her, Chan coughing awkwardly as your mother covers her face. "You bet on us?" "I assume the two of you managed to talk things out." Your father's voice is level, a warm smile on his face as Chan clears his throat. "Yes, sir." "And everything is okay…now?" Mr. Lee chimes in, your face growing warm as you nod, "Yes, sir." "And you're…together? Officially?" Mrs. Lee asks calmly, a grin fighting its way onto her lips as you and Chan flush embarrassedly. "Yes." You say in unison, and Mrs. Lee smiles from ear to ear, holding her hand out to your mother.

"You owe me a hundred bucks." "Wanna take a drive? I don't want to see money exchange hands." Chan scoffs, and the parents start arguing within themselves – mostly your mother defending herself and your father rolling his eyes as he fishes his wallet out, eager to pay your mother's debts.

"We're outta here." You announce, grabbing your coat off the rack. Your father gives you a nod, "We'll be here a while, it seems. Be safe, honey."

You nod, placing a kiss on Rosie's head before you leave. "Thanks, babycakes." "You're welcome, sissy." She smiles tiredly, closing her eyes as you ruffle her hair. You slip out, Chan closing the door behind you as you tug your coat on. "We're not actually going on a drive, you know that, right?" His gaze is pointed, and you roll your eyes as you pull him off his porch, the cold winter air nothing in comparison to the heat on your skin as you fumble for your keys. He keeps his hands off you as you both make your way to your house, your fingers trembling in excitement as you stick the key in the lock and turn it. You push the door open carefully, and he slides in behind you, shutting it with his foot and locking it behind him.

You peel your coat off, handing it to him to hang on the rack by the door. He's oddly quiet as he does the same, before silently taking your hand and leading you to your bedroom. He lets you walk in first, locking the door behind him as you step out of your heels.

You feel his hands on your bare waist, pulling your back to him as he presses a soft kiss to your shoulder. You close your eyes, feeling his lips trail up your shoulder, before his teeth tug on the necklace he gave you. "Can we keep this on?" "Yeah."

He hums softly, pressing a kiss behind your ear. His hands move to your arms, "Can we take this off? Is that okay?" You nod silently, letting him slip the straps of your dress down your arms, the fabric pooling around your hips as he sighs, keeping his hands on your sides as he trails open-mouthed kisses down your spine, breathing you in like you're the only oxygen he knows. His teeth tug at the hem of your dress, pulling it over the swell of your ass with ease. The flimsy fabric falls to your feet, his teeth nipping at your hip before you feel him stand, his hands on your waist turning you around.

"I love you." He presses his forehead to yours, eyes closed as yours open. You look at him in the moonlight, every eyelash, every tired line, everything that is the Lee Chan you love illuminated before you. Your hands move to his shirt, "Is this where I say it, too?" Your comment makes him smile inwardly, "If you'd like. I heard you, when you kissed me. You don't have to, I know you do." You feel so vulnerable under him like this, but you know him. You know he's just as vulnerable as you are, your fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt and untucking it from his belt. Your voice feels lost, but you clear your throat as you push his shirt down over his shoulders, revealing toned arms and the same muscular chest you loved to lay your head upon on sleepless nights.

"I love you, endlessly." You say softly, your eyes flickering up to meet his gaze. He nods silently, pressing a kiss to your forehead as your hands move to his belt, carefully tugging the leather strap from the silver buckle. You pull it through the loops, letting it fall to the ground as Chan's hands come to your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks gently as your hands unbutton his slacks, carefully tugging the zipper down as you brush a kiss to his jaw.

He stops you from pushing his pants down, his lips finding yours with a gentle insanity one can only describe as love. He swipes your hair back over your shoulders as he lets your hands rest on his waist, his lips pouring every single word into your mouth with a passion you'd only ever felt with him. This is the kiss you missed for three years, the soft grip of his hand in your hair as he guides his tongue against yours fluidly. This is the man you longed for unknowingly for your entire life, so loving and soft and sensual as he sucks on your tongue with a quiet moan.

This is the love you'd patiently waited to return to you, the way you felt the cool metal of his matching ring against the warm skin of your thigh as he picked you up effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as your arms draped over his shoulders. This is the love you'd wantonly waited for, the way he eased you onto your bed, not letting you untangle yourself from him as he continued to kiss you so agonizingly slow, you could feel your arousal slightly soak into the waistband of his slacks.

This is the love you'd yearned for, where he remembers every single one of your buttons. How he doesn't stop kissing you because he knows you love the feeling of his lips against yours, the way his hand only slides from your thigh to your dripping core because he knows you hate when he's not touching you constantly. How he steadies himself above you by pinning one hand above your head, interlacing your fingers as his other hand spreads your thighs for him.

"I love you." He whispers against your lips, not giving you a chance to respond as he carefully glides two of his fingers through your slick folds, earning a shiver as he traces your clit slowly. You mewl in his ear, his skin prickling with goosebumps at how wet you are for him. He presses a kiss to your jaw, "My gorgeous girl. So perfect for me." You bite back a whimper as his hand lands a rather wet slap to your clit, your body jolting into his as he chuckles. "Still like that?" He does it again, your thighs flinching around his hips as a broken moan leaves you.

He kisses your lips, swallowing any sounds you could've let out as he stops teasing you, his fingers carefully curling into your entrance. You shudder against him, a high-pitched whine from you making him laugh against your mouth. "Feel good, baby?" His thumb circles your clit as his fingers scissor you open, the pads of his digits brushing that spongy spot inside you that makes your breathing shaky. Your walls are impossibly tight around his fingers and it makes him dizzy, feeling you clench around his hand every time he reaches that spot he knows can make you cum within minutes. "Faster, please…" You run your hand through his hair, pulling him back down to your lips. He kisses you messily, bullying his fingers into you faster and feeling you pant yes, just like that softly against his lips. "Just like that? Like it fast, baby?" He mocks you, loving the way you nod dumbly. "Love it, love you, Channie.." Your eyes are teary as he brings you to the edge, his stomach fluttering at your soft whines. You made him feel like he was on fire, overstimulating his every sense with your whimpered begging for more as he nipped at your chest, his tongue swirling around your nipple as he mimics you, "Yeah, love me? How much, princess?"

"So m-much, think about you all day. Want you all the time, f-fuck…" Your thighs tighten around his hips, "Want me all the time? You're so cute. So needy for me, huh?"

You can only nod, tears collecting at the corners of your eyes as your nails dig into his shoulder, a tell-tale sign you're going to cum if he keeps going. He pulls a guttural moan from you, his favorite of them all as you coat his hand and wrist with your orgasm. "That's it, baby. Let go for me." He works you through it, your thighs trembling just like the first night the two of you slept together, your moans becoming nothing but soft whines against his lips.

"S'too much, too much.." You push his hand away with a whimper, your eyes barely open as you watch him lick his fingers clean like he did earlier. You shift under him, blinking your eyes as wide as you can, watching the way his tongue slid between his fingers. "See something you like?" He purrs against your lips, his wet fingers flicking your lower lip as you nod your head.

"You." Your voice is soft, and you see his eyes soften slightly as he smiles shyly. You wrap your legs around him, running a hand through his hair again, tugging slightly. "Want you." "You have me, baby." He kisses you chastely, relishing in the way you chase after his lips, huffing. "Kiss me like you mean it." You pull him closer, nipping at his lower lip with your teeth as he connects your mouths. The kiss is wet and messy, and you can feel him rolling his hips into you, the tip of his clothed cock rutting against your clit deliciously. But, you want it off.

"Take your pants off. Wanna feel you." You bite at his lips, and he moans, rutting against you like he can't stop. You whimper, your hips moving in tandem with his as you reach down and snap his waistband against his skin. "Fuck." Chan breathes against your jaw, shoving his pants and underwear down with one hand before he lets go of your hand, pulling them off fully with a hiss. He moves back up to kiss you, your nails digging into his back as you hold him close, your legs tight around his hips as he grinds his heavy cock against your wet heat. You're messy but that's how he likes it – your thighs twitch with overstimulation as he ruts his cock against you, leaning up to watch the way he leaks beads of precum onto your skin. "So fucking pretty." His thumb finds your clit, smirking at the way your thighs close slightly.

"So wet, too. Messy, messy girl." He grunts in your ear, "Can I put it in? Can you take it?"

"Please." You breathe out, making him meet your eyes. "Please what, baby?"

You scoff at his teasing smile, but you don't miss the adoration in his eyes as he plants a kiss to your lips. "Use your words."

You don't respond as you pout slightly, his lips brushing against yours. Your eyes are shy as he tries to find your gaze, a hiss from behind his teeth as your fingers reach between you to wrap around his shaft, his hands fisting the sheets around your head as you align him with your entrance.

"Please? Want you." Your eyes are wide and watery, too much for him to handle.

He caves, moving your hand out of the way to sink into you – his tip barely breaching your walls when you hear a whimper from Chan, his eyes glued to your glistening folds. Your head falls back with a groan as he slides in deeper, a whispered chant of fuck, fuck, fuck from his lips as you clench around him. You whine, digging your nails into his bicep as you push his hips down the rest of the way with your legs, hearing him groan at the way you swallow him perfectly.

"D-Don't, don't move. Just…wait." Your eyes are screwed shut, Chan's running all over your body. A singular bead of sweat runs down your neck, his fingers instinctively reaching to wipe it. You lean into his touch, your eyes still closed as you take his hand in yours, kissing his fingertips. "I love you." "I love you too, baby." He murmurs, and you shake your head as you lean your forehead to his, holding his hand to your chest. Your heart is beating a mile a minute, "This is how I feel every time I see you. There has never been a minute of my life that I haven't been so pathetically in love with you." He doesn't respond, his eyes glazed with unshed tears as yours open. You blink at him silently, your arms moving to wrap around his neck as you press a kiss to his nose, then his cheeks. "Obsessed with you." You mumble against his skin, feeling his hands wrap around your thighs with a shaky breath. "Missed you, my baby." Your admission is followed by a kiss to his lips, Chan's eyes fluttering shut as you drag your lips down his jaw. "I missed you, my love." He whispers in your ear, the pet name one he only used during your relationship. His teeth graze on your earlobe, before he plants a kiss on your neck as you run your fingers through his hair, pulling him to your lips. You slot your lips with his carefully, swallowing a whimper as you feel his hands push your thighs apart more.

"Ready? Want me to go slow?" His voice is shaky, making you run a hand through his hair. "Whatever you want, baby."

He nods, giving an experimental roll of his hips – his chest swelling with pride as your eyes roll back with a soft groan. You let him set the pace, the delicious drag of his cock making your hands fist the sheets as your head falls back against the mattress. His fingers are bruising around your thighs, his eyes glued to your face, biting back his moans as you whine pathetically.

"Feel good?" He murmurs as he thrusts into you a little harder, before letting go of your thighs and pinning your hand above your head, interlacing your fingers. Your eyes are closed and you can barely feel your head nodding as your limbs buzz with lust, a moan meeting his neck as you mouth at it. "Need words, baby." He leans to nip at your lips, feeling your other hand tug at his hair. "Feels s'good, daddy, fuck.." Your voice is no higher than a whisper, and Chan swears his brain short-circuits as he buries his face in your neck. He feels dizzy as he breathes in your perfume, hearing you whimper as he bullies his cock into you faster.

“So. Fucking. Wet.” He groans, his teeth biting at any surface of your skin as he grips your hips bruisingly. "Missed you so much, baby. W-Wanna fill you up, shit. Make you mine f-forever." His ramblings are only slightly incoherent, your cheeks warming as if you're not both naked right now, the only thing remaining is your jewelry – all of which he's given you.

"Y-Yeah? Want it, want you to fill me up..." You rasp, tightening your legs around his waist as he whimpers loudly. Your fingers rake through his hair, pulling his head away from your neck and meeting his eyes. They're full of a certain craze you've only ever seen during your relationship, a dark look of lust that swirls from the depths of the brown in his irises that makes you shiver as you press your lips to his. It's messy and rough, his hand circling the base of your neck to steady himself. Your own wrap around his wrist, sliding your tongue into his mouth with practised ease.

He sucks on your tongue messily, whining as you clamp down around him. You feel his hand loosen around your neck, sliding up to cup your face softly, your own moving to his back. Your nails dig into his shoulder as he thrusts into you, the tip of his cock brushing you just right that you moan into his mouth.

"Right there? There?" He pulls back, pistoning his hips into you as you nod frantically, your eyes filling with tears as your nails drag down his back. He tries not to close his eyes at the sensation, loving the way you bite down on your lip when his thumb pulls it out from under your teeth. "Wanna hear you, baby. Wanna know who's making you feel good."

You can hardly speak through your whines, his vision going blurry as your nails dig into his hips. His lips find the shell of your ear, "Come on, baby. Tell daddy who's making you this wet." Your cheeks heat as you whimper into his skin, your lower lip dragging against his sweatslick cheek. You tug at the small silver hoop in his ear, "Y-You are. Always m-make me feel s'good, daddy. W-Wanna cum for you..." You trail off as his teeth nip at your neck, your voice reduced to breathy whines as he bites down on your chest. His tongue quickly licks over the indents of his teeth, as his hands move to your thighs, pushing them apart as he towers over you. Your eyes open only enough to see the wad of spit drip from his lips, your hips jolting as it slides down your clit.

"Don't need it. Just like seeing you squirm, baby." He murmurs, pushing your knees to your chest as he continues to fuck into you. Your eyes fall on the ruddy blush on his cheeks, his own glued to the way your cunt swallows him perfectly. His fingers tighten around your legs, his lip tucked under his teeth as he screws his eyes shut, but you can't stop looking at him. The slope of his neck, littered with nips from your teeth that'll disappear by morning. His broad shoulders, slick with sweat and covered in deep, red marks from your nails. His chest, littered with faded love bites from the past few mornings waking up by his side. His forearms, flexing with every push of his hips, similar to the way they do when he holds you up against the shower wall. The sheen of your arousal on his fingers, the gold ring on his left hand that matches yours covered in a mix of spit and your cum. It's overwhelming, the way your insides feel fuzzy and the way your vision zeroes in on his ring, the glint in the moonlight mocking you.

"I can't wait to marry you." You mumble, covering your face with your arms as Chan jerks to a stop. You can still see him through a crevice in your arms, and you watch the way he swallows carefully. "W-What?" "I said, I can't wait to marry you." You repeat slightly louder, your eyes widening as you feel him twitch inside you. He scoffs quietly, "Babe, you can't say that." His eyes close, and you hear him take a deep breath as you sit up on your elbows.

"Why? I want to marry you." You huff, your mouth opening to say more when a sudden thrust from Chan's hips knocks the wind out of you. His whimper fills the room as he spreads your thighs out of habit, "I w-won't last if you say t-that."

You can barely speak with the way he's drilling his cock into you, his thumb working tight circles into your clit as your head falls back against the sheets with pleasure. You manage to string your words together, your stomach filling with that familiar heat as you speak, "W-We have the rest of o-our lives, b-baby…" He whines loudly as his hips are flush to yours, shuddering slightly as he fills you with his release. He has a pout on his lips as he overstimulates himself through his orgasm, leaning into your soft whines, brushing his lips against yours. "I love you." He whispers as you clench around him, the band in your lower belly snapping as you whine pitifully as his hand slides in yours.

The air around you settles, Chan reaching to brush your hair out of your eyes and pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I love you, baby." You nod loosely, a mumble of I love you tumbling against his clavicle. You feel him pull out slowly, a hiss from the both of you filling the silence. Wincing lightly, you go to sit up but his hand on your chest stops you. "Lie down." You don't question him as he slides one of your pillows under your head – but your brows are furrowed as he kisses down your body, sinking to his knees as he reaches the edge of your bed. You sit up slightly, "Chan, are you–" He doesn't reply, looking you in the eyes as he flattens his tongue against your sloppy cunt. Your eyes widen as he looks away, his arms wrapping around your thighs carefully. You're far too sensitive for this, but you can't seem to look away as he sucks your clit between his pouty lips. "You're fucking f-filthy, Lee Chan." "Open your mouth." He shrugs as he speaks into your skin, and you scoff out a laugh. He raises a brow as he looks up at you, making your cheeks flush. You sit up on your elbows, his arms pulling you closer to his face before fucking the wet muscle of his tongue into your spent hole. Your gasp is almost unnoticeable, your eyes starry as you watch him collect the mix of your releases in his mouth.

Your thighs tremble in his hands, your mind fuzzy with overstimulation as you whine softly. He pulls away, rising off his knees and sliding his thigh between yours as his hand finds your cheek. You instinctively open your mouth as he looks into your eyes, his thumb pulling at your lower lip as he spits his release onto your tongue. Your eyes flutter shut at the taste, feeling him snake his tongue into your mouth in a wet kiss. He pushes you back against the pillow slowly, his hand moving from your cheek to interlace your fingers as his lips trail down your jaw.

"I think your parents are home." He murmurs, and you try your best to zero in on any sounds that could allude to such. He nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck, "Do you want to stop?"

You don't respond, hearing the jingle of the doorknob as Chan tugs on your earlobe with his teeth. You cover your mouth as a breathy moan slips out, feeling Chan smile against your skin. "We can stop, baby." You shake your head frantically as you hear your mother sigh and the creak of the stairs under their footsteps. Your father's footsteps are heavy behind your mother's light ones, and you hear the door to their bedroom open, the hinges desperately in need of an oiling. It closes, and you breathe out carefully.

"I have so many questions but I can ask them later. Can you go again?" You mutter, feeling him scoff against your skin. "Is that how you're going to ask me?" "I can always just ride you until you cry like I did in the back of your car three years ago." You huff, feeling Chan pinch your hip. "Can you even hold yourself up?" He smirks down at you, making you furrow your brows.

"Watch me." "I intend to."

JANUARY 1, 5:44AM.

The only reason you and Chan stop is because he's made you soak through your sheets twice, the edge of your bed sopping wet as he carefully carries you into the bathroom. How he's even able to stand up is beyond you, your legs loosely wrapped around his bare waist as he leans to turn the water on in your shower.

You wince as he sets you down on the edge of the tub, his fingers expertly releasing the clasp on your necklace and draping it on your bathroom counter. "Don't want it to snag in your hair." He murmurs as he helps you back up, your legs hardly functioning as he makes you step into the tub. The hot water feels great against your hips, your lips parting against Chan's chest in a soft groan as he holds you to him. He laughs softly, and you feel the pads of his fingers digging into the sore muscles. "I'm sorry, baby. Maybe that last position was too much, hm?" "Fuck all the way off." You mutter, resting your cheek on his chest as he coos at you. "How's that for three ways to Sunday?" "Great. It was great, wonderful. If fucking someone three ways to Sunday was an Olympic sport, you'd win gold every time." You confess quietly, your eyes barely open as you hear him pop the cap of your shampoo. "You know, you talk a lot when we have sex." "Mmh, do I? What did I say?" You feel his fingers card through your hair, making him snicker. "For one, I think you're the one with the daddy thing. You said it more than once and I'm honestly a little impressed with your commitment to the bit…if it is a bit." "Shut up. Wash my hair like a good boyfriend." Your cheeks grow hot as he laughs, leaning down to press a kiss to your hairline. "You also asked me when I'd marry you, and that you'd marry me tonight if you could." "When?" Your head snaps up to look at him, and he shrugs, a teasing smile on his lips. "If I recall correctly, you were face down–" "Enough." You turn away, pressing your forehead to his chest once more. "You're not supposed to make fun of me, I was vulnerable." "M'not making fun of you, baby. I'm absolutely enamored with you, I'd also marry you tonight if you'd allow it." He shrugs as he tilts your head back to rinse your hair, and you pout up at him. "I have a question." "Shoot." He feels your hands trace his torso, before you flick his hip. "What is this?" He looks down, the faded tattoo you'd been wondering about peeking through your fingers. He sighs, "It's a tattoo, babe. What else would it be?"

"Well for one, it's shitty. Second of all, of what?" You run your thumb over his skin, making him snort. "It is shitty, because I was drunk and I got it done with Soonyoung and Mingyu at their friend Seungcheol's apartment. It's also shitty because Seungcheol wanted someone to practice his fine line technique on and I was so wasted that I volunteered." "You've never been that reckless unless you're with me. Where was I? And what is it!?" You insist, and he snorts as he pours your body wash on your loofah. "It's your name. I kept saying it because I always think of you when I'm drunk and Seungcheol assumed it was what I wanted. It was actually very pretty when it was new, it's just faded now. There's a little red splotch somewhere, it was a heart."

He nods as you gape at him, "My name?" "It was two years ago. I was actually going to call you before Soonyoung threw my phone in the pool and told me I didn't deserve to call you if I wasn't going to beg for you back. I was always willing, I was just scared you'd reject me because of how much of a douche I'd been." "How'd you explain this to your hookups?" You blurt, and he smiles. "I didn't. They always knew. I don't know if you want me to talk about that, though. Your feelings are important to me and I was so shitty to you then." "You're a dumbass, both for not just talking to me and for getting this done at someone's apartment. You should get it redone at an actual parlor, I heard Hansol does tattoos now." You trace the faded ink, and he snorts. "I'd bet you'd like that, wouldn't you? Just branding me like that."

You don't say anything as he runs the sponge over your body, your eyes pointed as he scoffs. "But I'm the freak." "I counted thirty six positions, you are the freak. God forbid I want a little something to kiss before I go down on you." You roll your eyes, and you hear him choke as he pushes you back slightly under the water. "Careful, you'll sound like me if you keep that up." "Oh my God, I fucking asked you if I was too rough! You insisted I keep going!" He whines, landing a soft smack to your thigh as he washes your legs. You snicker, holding onto his shoulders, looking down at the red lines you'd inflicted. "Oh, your back is gonna hurt, babe." "Well worth it, in my opinion. I honestly thought I was going to lose my mind yesterday." He sighs as he stands upright, your arms wrapping around his waist as he presses a kiss to your hairline. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get my shit together, my love." "You know you've never called me that outside of those two months we were together?" You murmur, and he nods. "Mmh. Can't call you something you aren't, can I? I mean, you'll always be the love of my life but you weren't exactly mine and I didn't deserve you then, anyway." "And you do now?" You ask softly, and he shakes his head as he switches you out to stand under the showerhead, wincing as the hot water hits his back. "No. I'm always going to be undeserving of you, especially after the shit I pulled. But I have no problem spending my lifetime proving that I love you."

You don't reply, holding onto him silently as he cleanses himself. Your eyes linger on the flexing of his muscles, the way his face twitches as your body wash stings the aftermath of your nails digging into his back. "I'll be nicer next time." You assure him as he rolls his eyes, a mumble of no you won't from his lips as he presses a kiss to your hairline.

The sun is beginning to peek into your bedroom by the time you and Chan exit, and you sit in your bathrobe as Chan strips your sheets. He makes your bed in silence, hiding his yawns with shakes of his head and fishing through your drawers for his old clothes. He finds a pair of sweatpants and an old cheer shirt of his, tugging them on before easing your tired form into your own pajamas. You nearly trip as he slides your shorts up your legs, his fingers cheekily pinching the swell of your ass as you swat at him.

"Unlock the door." You remind him as he slides you under the fresh blankets, and he nods, his breath minty from your toothpaste as he presses a kiss to your nose. He unlocks it quietly, checking the time on his phone before sliding in next to you. "What time is it?" "Almost seven. Rosie's gonna barge in here." He mumbles as you settle on top of him, your head on his chest as his hand slips under your shirt with a sigh. "I love you." "I love you, Channie." You murmur into his shirt, your eyes heavy as he pulls you impossibly closer, planting a kiss on your cheek without a word.

3:41PM.

You're the first to wake up, feeling like a train hit you as your muscles take in the absolute marathon you put yourself through with Chan the night before. You grimace as your back pops, stretching carefully so as to not wake up your boyfriend – who is curled into your chest, his arm hanging off your hip. Biting back your smile, you carefully run your fingers through his hair before sighing inwardly.

Sitting up slowly, you see something on your dresser. It's a framed photo, and a Polaroid tucked into the corner of the frame. You squint at it, unable to make out the shapes without rubbing at your eyes. Chan stirs next to you, a pout on his lips as he peels his eyes open. "Lay down, I'm cold."

"Hang on." You slide out of bed, wincing as you stand up. Your eyes land on the photo once more as you stand in front of your dresser, and it's you and Chan in a gold frame. It's the night of the Christmas Eve dinner, and it's slightly blurry but you can see the way you're smiling up at Chan shyly, and the way his eyes are starry as he looks down at you. It's the photo Rosie took, the one she didn't let you look at.

The Polaroid is also of you and Chan, in your bed with the same clothes you have on now. They must've walked in in the morning when neither of you responded, because you're both sound asleep in the photo. He's holding you close, and your arms are wrapped around his shoulders, your promise ring glinting against his neck in the flash of the camera. Your foreheads are pressed together, cheeks flushed in the soft morning light.

The note sits under the frame, and you look closer at the frame. Between You and Me, it reads, and you feel your cheeks heat as you slip the note out.

We've been trying to teach Rosie how to be careful with her money, because your mother started giving her an allowance a few weeks ago. She wanted to get you a Christmas gift but didn't know what you liked, and instead of asking…she took your camera from when you were a little girl and snapped a photo of you and Chan at Christmas Eve dinner. She told me when we were getting the photos developed that she thought Chan was really important to you, and that she knew she was, too – so it was like a win-win situation, to give you a gift of the things you cherish the most.

She's pretty good at making something out of nothing, and she begged me to take her to that old thrift store you loved in high school. She found this frame near the old book section that you walked through a lot, too. So profound for a child, but I digress. The Polaroid is from me, consider it an apology for allowing your mother to make such insane bets when we all knew that the two of you were bound to fall in love. P.S. Rosie's pretty good at capturing beautiful moments. Do you think she'd make a good wedding photographer? ♡

– Dad.

Your vision is blurry as you feel the heat of Chan's body behind you, his fingers carefully picking the frame up and looking at it. "You're so in love with me." He murmurs, and you half expect to look up and see him smiling – but his face is serious, his thumb ghosting over your face in the photo. You swallow nervously as he stares at the photo, clearing your throat.

"I am. Is that…okay?" You whisper, and he nods silently, closing his eyes as he sets the photo down. "We're taking that home, right? We can't leave it here. I want to see it everyday." He's not looking at you, holding the Polaroid gingerly in his hand. You watch as he sets it back down, his fingers plucking the note from your hand, leaning against the dresser as he reads it. He's blinking back tears and you feel your chest warm as he sighs, running his hand over his face. "We need to get Rosie that Lego set your dad said no to. The really big one, what was it?" "Rosie has never even seen Titanic. She just wants it because she thinks the boat is cool, and my dad said no because it's seven hundred dollars." You snort, and he shakes his head. "Don't care. She needs it. I need to buy it, where are your keys?"

"We'll take my dad's, I don't feel like moving her booster seat."

You smile to yourself as your boyfriend hands you a pair of jeans to slide on as he roots around for his socks, and you quietly slip out of your bedroom after tugging them on. You see your parents sitting around your dining room table, a few drinks and a deck of cards spread out between the four of them. Rosie sits quietly in Mrs. Lee's lap as Mrs. Lee explains the game, and you clear your throat. "Good afternoon." You say softly, and the parents turn their heads to look at you. They're smiling, and Rosie lights up, wiggling out of Mrs. Lee's lap and running towards you. "Did you like my present!? I made it for you!" "I know, babycakes. I loved your present." You pick her up, holding her on your hip as she moves your hair out of your face. You turn to your father, who has a knowing look on his face. "You mind if I take her for a bit? Chan wants to buy her something." "No sugar. She got a filling this morning." Your mother murmurs over her cards, taking a sip of her drink as she nods. Rosie huffs in your grasp, about to protest when Chan appears behind you. "Hey. Ready?"

His cheeks are ruddy as he greets your parents, and none of them say a word as you tug on your boots as he makes Rosie fetch her coat. She's nearly bouncing off the stairs as she runs back down, and Chan helps her put it on as she eagerly asks what she's getting and why she's getting it.

"Titanic." Chan shrugs, and your father nearly spits out his drink as you shove the two of them out of the door, grabbing his car keys off the hook. "Y/N! Don't buy her that, it's too expensive!" "Can't hear you, Pop! See ya!" You grin cheekily, slipping out the front door and seeing Chan and Rosie giggling as he buckles her into her seat. Your heart warms at the sight, and you make eye contact with Chan as he shuts the door. He smiles, tilting his head towards the passenger side door as he opens it for you. You climb in silently, his eyes watching your every move. "You okay?" "I love you."

EPILOGUE – JANUARY 7, 5:30AM.

"Do you have to go?" You'd already stayed four more days than you'd originally planned, and you were really cutting it close by driving back on a Sunday. Rosie's eyes are tired and pleading as you hold her on your hip, Chan struggling to shove the last bag into your trunk as you snicker. "We do, babycakes. But don't worry! I'll come home with Channie in April for your birthday! Isn't that fun?" "I guess." She pouts, resting her head on your shoulder. "Will you call me everyday?" "Yes, I'll call you everyday." You nuzzle your nose to hers as Chan huffs, slamming your trunk shut. "Babe, someday you're going to have to pack this car and you'll understand why I sleep on the way back to campus." He's red in the face as your mother ventures outside to retrieve your little sister, Mrs. Lee in tow with a bag full of goodies for the trip back to campus. You smile softly at your mother as she takes your now crying sister, your heart aching as you wipe her tears.

"Don't cry, Rosie. We'll be back soon, I promise." Chan nods, holding his pinky out for your little sister to take. She sobs into your mother's parka as she does so, and your mother gives you a warm smile. "You guys take care of each other, okay? No more breaking up!" "No more breaking up." You both repeat, your cheeks flushing as Mrs. Lee gives you both a hug goodbye. Your father appears, holding up two tumblers full of hot chocolate and Mr. Lee hands Chan an envelope. "Pocket money. Don't let Y/N starve on the way home, she told us you only fed her beef jerky." "I did not!" He begins to protest, but you clap your hand over his mouth with a wide smile. "Thank you, Mr. Lee. I appreciate you worrying about my appetite." The goodbyes are not nearly as sappy as they usually are, but you know it's because they're looking forward to graduation. It will approach fast, you know you'll lose yourself in the excitement of it all and best of all, Chan will be right there with you. You're in the car waving to Rosie until you turn the corner, before your shoulders sag against your seat. You pout, making Chan smile as he reaches to pinch your cheek.

"Rosie will be okay, baby." "I know, I know. I just wish I was around more to see her grow up. She won't think I'm as cool by the time I'm finally around to hang out and stuff." "Babe, she's seven this year. She's gonna think you're cool." He rolls his eyes as he stops at a red light, connecting his phone to the aux and handing it to you. You sigh, unlocking his phone to see a photo of you and Rosie at the Lego store on New Year's Day as his home screen, paired with the same sentimental baby picture that rested in your locket as his lock screen – that one never changed. You say nothing as your cheeks warm, opening his Spotify and pressing shuffle as he turns left to take the exit to get onto the expressway.

You both tense as you hear the beginning notes of Meddle About by Chase Atlantic. He gives you a sideways glance as the lyrics start pouring through, and you clear your throat quietly.

"There's an exit…up ahead. It leads–" "Into the woods, yeah. I'm just gonna–" "Yeah. Should I-" "Start taking your coat off, mhm." "Got it. Are you gonna–" "Yup. Didn't bring any condoms with me." Your cheeks flush as you queue the same stupid sex playlist you made three years ago as he silently takes the exit before the one for the expressway, tonguing his cheek as he drives into the still-dark solace of the woods. You have your shirt off by the time he finds the same spot you found three years ago, and by the time he kills the engine, you're in the backseat.

"Hey, Chan?" The opening notes of Kiss It Better by Rihanna fill the car as he all but rips his coat off.

"Yes, Y/N?" "I love you." He smiles, kissing you tenderly as he lays you down in your backseat.

"I love you, baby."

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peachiejeongin · 2 months ago

Text

Back to Blue | Han Jisung

Synopsis: Jisung messages you out of the blue one day, and before you know it, you are at the Stray Kids dorm dying his hair back to blue.

Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader

Genre: established relationship, fluff, crack

Warnings: None! (Unless shirtless Jisung counts)

WC: 1.6k

Notice: My loves, this was an entirely unprompted fanfiction. I have a couple requests scheduled and I'm working on a longer fiction, so I was not going to write anything at all today. But after reading a few stories about Hyunjin's buzzcut and Felix's dark hair, I realized I had not seen many stories about the return of Bluesung on my feed; therefore, I decided to write my own!...and I may or may not have sped-wrote it in about an hour or two. Whoops! Nevertheless, enjoy the story, my darlings! (I am also attempting a new format style, so enjoy that as well!).

Divider By: @strangergraphics-archive

It started with a random text on a Saturday afternoon.

Hannie<3: Hello, my beautiful, gorgeous, amazing specimen of a partner who I love more than anything else ever! You: What do you want, Ji? Hannie<3: Sooooo, our hairstylist may or not be out sick with the flu, and your amazing boyfriend who is ALWAYS so nice to you may or may not be wanting to bring back an old hair color so....wanna come help me dye my hair blue? :D

You blinked at your phone, rereading the message over and over again as if you were trying to find a joke in the wording that you had missed; he could not be serious, could he?

You: Why not just go to an ACTUAL salon? Hannie<3: And have them mess it up? Absolutely not! You're the only one I trust with this so can you pleeeeease come do it for me?? You: Hannie, I'm going to hold your hand when I say this. You: I have never dyed anyone's hair before. Hannie<3: Boxes have instructions for a reason!

You narrowed your eyes at your phone briefly, quirking your lips into a line; you pondered the text for a moment before sighing and typing out a reply.

You: I'll be there in fifteen.

Minutes later, you were at Jisung's dorm, standing in the doorway to his bedroom with a skeptical expression etched onto your face; your boyfriend just grinned at you like an eager puppy.

"I knew you wouldn't be able to resist the urge to play mad scientist with my hair."

"You're acting like I'm about to give you an entirely new identity," you retorted, stepping inside and tossing your keys onto his bed. "Remind me why you want blue specifically? I thought you wanted to stay natural for a while."

Han shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I did, but blue is like my color, y'know? Fans loved it, and, let's be real, I looked amazing!" You rolled your eyes at the final comment but could not help the smile that eased past your lips.

"Fine," you told him, "but if this goes wrong, I am taking zero responsibility."

"Noted," he replied, leading you down the hallway to the bathroom; a box of blue hair dye already sat waiting on the counter.

"Wow," you teased, picking up the box and analyzing the instructions. "You really went all out with the cheap stuff. Y'sure it won't turn your hair green?"

Han laughed at first, but his eyes widened slightly, his playful expression morphing into one of slight fear.

"Wait...it's not going to do that, right?"

"I guess we'll find out."

Han let out a dreadful groan as you opened the box, pulling out the black rubber gloves that came with it; you pulled them on with a moderate snap as Han took off his shirt, throwing it somewhere on the messy bathroom floor. He perched on the edge of the bathtub, wrapping a small towel around his neck as you read the instructions in order to figure out just what you were doing.

After scanning over the steps and figuring out the process of unprofessionally coloring hair, you took out the color and the developer and poured both into the applicator bottle, shaking it harshly in order to quickly mix up the dye. Once the agents were fully combined, you stepped closer to Han, sitting yourself beside him on the rim of the tub.

"Okay, tilt your head back," you instructed, squeezing a tiny amount of hair dye onto your finger tips.

"Wait," Han suddenly said, looking up at you with large, doe-eyes. "What happens if it actually turns my hair green?"

"Hannie, it's just hair," you replied, running your clean hand through his hair lightly. "You'll be fine."

"But my appearance is my livelihood!" He clutched a dramatic hand over his heart, pretending to tear up at the thought. "If my hair is ruined, I'm ruined!"

"Well, you could always shave your head and wait for it to grow back!" you playfully remarked. "Hopefully by then, your stylist will feel better!"

"A shaved head?!" Han gasped dramatically, his words loud and bewildered. "Do I look like my name is Hyunjin? We can't have two kiwis in the group!" You chuckled at his melodramatics before halting suddenly, furrowing your eyebrows slightly.

"Wait, Hyunjin shaved his head?"

"Oh, nevermind that!" Han playfully shook his head as he spoke. "Can you just get started before I go crazy?"

"You're already crazy, Hannie, but okay."

You slowly raked the blue dye through Han's hair, being as gentle as possible just in case you caught any missed tangles or knots. You went by sections, going by the layers of Han's hair. As you worked, Han squirmed as if he were a child.

"Ow!" he yelped unseriously. "That was a tangle!"

"Han, my fingers literally ran through a couple of strands," you retaliated, trying not to laugh. "How could I have hit a tangle?"

"I don't know, but that's what it felt like," he muttered, pouting and wincing for effect.

"You're such a baby," you teased, brushing through his hair more softly. "I know you don't act like this with the stylists, so just behave for me, would you?"

"Fine, fine," he conceded with a sigh. "In my defense, though, it absolutely kills me to sit still for an hour with them, too."

"Keep yourself distracted then," you suggested as you began to work on the second section of hair. "Like, just talk to me about whatever will make time pass by for you."

Upon your statement, you and Han began to discuss everything and nothing, from his plans for the week, to a new song he was working on, and finally the latest group chat antics with the other members. You had to pause your efforts multiple times during conversation, scolding Han for turning his head away from you while he was speaking. By the time you had finished applying the dye, you were both laughing so hard that your sides were aching.

"Okay," you sighed out victoriously, peeling off your gloves and throwing them away along with the applicator bottle. "Now we wait."

"For how long?"

"Thirty minutes," you answered after re-checking the box's directions. As you pulled out your phone to set a timer, Han let out a frustrated groan, slumping dramatically off of the bathtub's edge and onto the bathroom floor.

"I am going to die of boredom."

"You could always help me clean up," you suggested, glancing pointedly at the blue streaks adorning the whie porcelain of the bathtub, as well as some spots that had made their way onto the floor.

"Absolutely not." Han sat up quickly, shaking his head. "That's your mess."

"Excuse me?" you shot back while chuckling. "Are you not the one who squirmed, flinced, and turned your head so aggressively that you got hair dye everywhere?" Before Han could answer, you pulled out a washrag from one of the bathroom drawers, turning on the faucet to wet it slightly and tossing it to Han.

"Now, get it before it dries up!" you commanded, getting out a second rag for yourself. "I don't want to explain to your managers why the dorm's bathroom looks like a Smurk emporium."

To your gratitude, and more so Han's, cleaning up the smeared hair dye made the time pass by swiftly; within what felt like moments, the alarm on your phone had gone off.

"Thank goodness!" Han yelled, standing up from where he had been kneeled on the floor, working on a particularly tough stain. "Moment of truth!" Han made his way to the shower, sliding open the door before glancing back at you.

"Privacy, please!" he cheekily commanded, waiving you away sassily.

"Yeah, whatever. Just don't forget to use this, ya goof." You handed him the small packet of hair color conditioner before striding out of the bathroom.

"Text me when you're done."

You were sitting on Han's bed, scrolling through social media for what felt like an eternity; you were never able to understand how one person could take such a lengthy shower. You got the urge to go knock on the bathroom door and ask what was taking so long, but before you could, your phone buzzed.

Hannie<3: All done! Come look! :D

You smiled at the text, sluggishly standing up and making your way to the bathroom. You opened the door to find a beaming Han, his squirrely smile lighting up the entire bathroom as he ran his hands through his hair whilst looking in the mirror; it was blow-dried, which was probably why he took longer than expected, but most importantly, it was vibrant, shiny, and blue.

"Ladies and...well, just lady!" Han exclaimed as he turned to you, a prominent, joyous sparkle present in his eyes. "I present to you: the return of Bluesung!"

"No kidding!" you responded, ruffling his hair lightly and fluffing it up slightly. "I think I nailed it!"

"You did!" he agreed, grinning from ear to ear. "I am dangerously attractive now. Well, I've always been attractive, but even more so now, baby!"

"Alright, alright." You rolled your eyes, lightly pushing at his shoulder. "Calm down, Blueberry."

"Careful," he warned, the gleeful glint in his gaze turning into a mischevious one. "Call me that again, and I'm dying your hair."

"Fine by me," you retorted while smirking. "I've been wanting to go purple for a while, Blueberry."

"Oh, you little!" Han picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder and playfully bickering with you as he spun you around the bathroom; however, even through the teasing and the unserious arguing, one thought crossed your mind:

Blue really did suit him.

Taglist: @velvetmoonlght, @amararosesblog (If you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know!)

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taintandviolent · 7 months ago

Text

Master ; Eddie Munson x Reader

summary: [PART ONE HERE!] It's been a few days since Eddie Munson and reader had their little hookup in the back of his van, and she's jonesing for more. After a D&D campaign, Eddie invites her back to his trailer.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 4.8K | female reader, smut, use of pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby, etc.), light bondage, no use of y/n, fucking to music (because he would), eating out, p in v, slight cockwarming at the end.

a/n: i am so overwhelmed by the response to my first eddie fic!!! you guys are CRAZY! thank you though, from the bottom of my heart. i hope this part lives up to the last part! ps: i've never played d&d, so just ignore how bland that section is. thanks. ps #2: the album that eddie puts on is Ride the Lightning, so if you wanna' listen to that while you read.... please do. not beta-read, yada yada yada yada. divider by @/strangergraphics!!

full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

For the most part, everything had returned to normal with the very welcomed exceptions of a few heated glances, some knowing smiles, and the occasional touch when he passed by you. All of which had you reeling, viciously fanning the embers of your desire for him. Many times throughout the week, you’d considered approaching him for one reason or another, but you were holding out for reasons unbeknownst to you.

In other news, Jason had requested a new lab partner - or tried - but Mrs. Cowan didn’t bother entertaining his request, much to your dismay. So the last period was spent with him, trying to remain cordial, but silently cursing everything he did.

That morning, you’d woken up with a fiery craving for Eddie. It couldn’t be sated by merely thinking of him, or watching him from afar. You need to feel him again. Out front of Hawkins High, you bend down to retrieve your backpack, nestling your patterned Trapper Keeper in the crook of your arm.

And as if on cue…

“I’m your turbo lover! Better run for cover!”

You freeze and straighten up, a chill shuddering up your spine. There’s no way someone is just playing that song. Your thighs press together tightly, as if doing so is inhibiting anything. You spin around, searching for the source of the music. And boy, do you find it. Eddie’s van screeches around the corner, just in front of you.

You watch as Eddie then pulls into a parking spot, his arm hanging out the window of the van. He lifts it, giving you a casual wave, even though that gesture is anything but casual. For a moment, you’re almost mad. He’s all but ruined that song for you, because now all you can think about is him fingerbanging you in the back of his van. You let out a frustrated huff as the music dies off and the door creaks open.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He says as he passes, his voice dripping with nonchalance. Your mouth gapes open, appalled that he didn’t tackle you in kisses right then and there. You watch, wordlessly, as he takes the steps two at a time and march after him, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. He wasn’t getting away from you that quickly. Thankfully, this semester, you had two classes with him; English in the morning and History after lunch. The little game he was playing was vicious and mean, and you hated it.

“Eddie, wait!” You call, trotting down the hallways. He slows his pace and gradually turns, a sly expression on his face.

“Yeees?”

“What are you doing?”

“Uh.. y’know… just going to class.” He answers coolly, nodding his head towards Miss Tipton’s door. You steal a glance at his body; he’s wearing a Metallica shirt with his go-to black jeans, and he’s got a black backpack slung over his right shoulder. His hand is clamped around the handle of that lunchbox he always carries, his rings clanking together as he adjusts his grip. You remember what those rings felt like, entangled in your own fingers. At the lewd thought, you have to withhold a sigh. He’s so… you dig your nails into the plastic of your binder, growling slightly.

“You can’t just…” You stutter, looking at him with big, pleading eyes. “I’m going crazy over here.”

“Yeah? So what do you want me to do about it?” Suddenly walking you backwards, he urges you against someone’s locker, his belt buckle pressing hard into your stomach. Your breath comes out in a rush. “You want me to do it right here?”

He brushes the backs of his fingers along your jawline, teasingly. Your eyes drift behind him, watching people’s eyes flit to you and widen as they pass. A few people snigger and make some comments, likely disparaging in nature. Of course, they must be thinking, who would want to be that close to the Freak of Hawkins? You groan inwardly and lean your head back against the slotted metal.

“No… we can’t.”

“Then you’re gonna’ have to be patient, aren’t you, sweetheart?” His voice is husky and low, his breaths washing over your face. You frown slightly, but nod. You’d gotten something… the warmed, lingering sensation of his hips pressed against yours was enough to get you through the rest of the day, at least. He backs off, smirking, and reaches for the door, pulling it open. With eyebrows raised, he holds the door for you, letting you duck underneath his arm.

Once in the classroom, you pick a seat and settle in. After a few moments, Miss Tipton turns to the chalkboard to write something and in doing so, turns her back away from the class. A few seconds later, something hits your shoulder, bouncing off of it. You look down at your feet and spot a folded up piece of notebook paper. Making sure that the teacher is still occupied, you bend down and scrape your fingers against the floor, scooping it into your grasp. You quickly unfold it, your eyes scanning over the scrawled letters.

Today after last period. Meet me in the theatre.

EDDIE

PS: I miss the way you taste.

Your stomach tightens. Tucking your face into your shoulder, you sneakily peer back behind you. To your right, a few seats down, Eddie meets your gaze and feigns innocence, widening his eyes at you before casually scratching the side of his face with a capped pen. You withhold a smile and turn back around, tucking the note into your binder. Class continues without a hitch. In fact, it goes by surprisingly quickly.

After class, you hurry to the payphone outside, dial home and bring the receiver to your ear. It rings twice before you hear your mother’s voice.

“Hello?”

“Mom, it’s me.”

“Honey, is everything okay?” You can hear the worry in her voice.

You smile, leaning against the nearby brick wall. “Yes, I’m fine. I just wanted to call you and let you know that I’m going to be home later today. I’m uh… thinking about joining a club.”

“A club? At school? Honey, that’s great. Just be careful, okay?”

You straighten up, hunching over the payphone again. “I will, I promise. Love you.”

“Love you too. Bye-bye.”

Every class speeds by, having been spent fantasizing. You’re in deep, too deep maybe. Short of drawing hearts around his name, you’ve allowed yourself to become completely wound around his guitar-calloused fingers, you’ve imagined every scenario possible and succeeded in riling yourself up throughout the day. Prepwork, you’d call it.

So, later that afternoon, when you make it to the theatre, quietly opening one of the double doors, you’re almost disappointed that it’s a room full of boys. Sure, Eddie’s there, sitting at the head of the table, but it’s a room full of boys all the same. Foolishly, Hellfire Club wasn’t a frontrunner in your thoughts, you hadn’t even considered it or the fact that he had invited you to one of the sessions, and you’d agreed. You grimace and take a few steps forward, bringing yourself out of the shadows.

“Ah, she arrives.” Eddie’s voice booms, echoing in the acoustics of the theatre. He’s oozing confidence, and you bite your lip, silently talking your own arousal down.

“Hey guys,” you say, trying to mask your nerves with a casual wave. “Eddie invited me.”

“Indeed I did.” He’s perched on an ornately carved chair, his elbows resting on his knees, fingers laced together. Eddie then jumps over the arm of the chair and bends down, retrieving something from his backpack. Casually, but almost theatrically, he strolls over. Once he’s in front of you, he reaches for your hand, pulling it up and carefully lays the item in your hands, his fingertips grazing the edge of your palm. It’s a Hellfire Club shirt, just like the one he wears. A smirk crawls across your lips; you were now technically in possession of two of his shirts.

After changing behind the heavy velvet curtains, you get situated in one of the empty seats, and Eddie explains the campaign, setting the scene with all of his elaborate, fantastic descriptions. This guy was a natural born storyteller, and you could tell he had a passion for this silly little game. Too quickly, it came to be your turn. You had no idea what you were doing, and you realize that you haven’t been paying attention at all. Your attention was… elsewhere the entire time. Panic grips your throat as everyone’s eyes are on you, waiting for your roll.

“Uhhh,” You look apprehensively at the dice in your palm. Unlike regular dice, they have way too many sides and you don’t know what you need to achieve. Eddie assured you that you’d get the hang of it, but so far… you haven’t. “I have no idea but roll a one-hundred to charm the DM?”

“One-hundre— WHAT! That doesn’t even make sense. She’s not even playing!” The kid with the curly hair – Dusty? Dustin? – sounded frustrated. He took this very seriously. They’d all briefly introduced themselves as you’d sat down, but your attention had been on and still was on Eddie the entire time, so you hardly retained any of their names. You are enchanted with his energy tonight; the way he masterfully navigates the campaign, engaging with each of the rolls and weaving an intricate story that none of the other players can predict, but adore all the same.

You two make eye contact. Eddie withholds a smile. You can see it — the middle of his plush lips start to spread across his teeth but he reels it back in. It takes an immense amount of self control, but you don’t make finger guns at him. Instead, you toss the dice back onto the table, not bothering to watch what you’d rolled. With a groan, you lean back in the chair, which creaks in protest. “Fine,” you lamented, lacing your fingers behind your head. “I’ll just watch. I don’t understand this anyway.”

“Lady Terowyn,” he starts, saying the name that he’d given you at the start. He holds your gaze strongly, leaning forward in his chair and gripping the sides of the table, his rings clanking against the wood. “You seem to have acquired a ferocious malady. You can roll again in hopes that Blossom Tealeaf will assist you with a cure…”

“Who was Blossom Tealeaf again?” You ask, almost exasperated and look around at the other players. Dustin rolls his eyes, slumping down in his chair. “Alright, alright. Sheesh. I’ll accept this… illness and just watch this time.”

“Alright, then. Lady Terowyn succumbs to the vicious curse and perishes. What shall you do?”

The boys fall into a heated discussion and Eddie’s eyes find yours again. Without saying anything, he’s saying a lot. He’s smiling like he did before he kissed you, and the thought drives you insane. You have half a mind to climb across the table and go sit in his lap, sweeping your hips back and forth until his cock hardens underneath you, but you wouldn’t dare interrupt his campaign; it means too much to him and the others.

So, you sat. You sat, commenting, cheering the boys on when they figured something out, and gasped when their fearless dungeon master bested them yet again. Eventually, they warmed up to you, the coldness gone from their responses, even going so far as to involve you in some of the discussions. This went on for a few hours, until finally, they lost against the merciless beast that they’d been fighting. After the group dispersed outside, Eddie towed you to his van, promising he’d take you home.

He pulls you into a kiss, his tongue dancing along your lower lip and slipping inside to wrestle with yours. You moan into his mouth, and slide your hands into the warmth inside his leather jacket. Never breaking the kiss, he gently pushes you against the side of his van, the metal cool behind your back. One of his hands moves to your leg, hitching it up around his waist to bring you even closer to him. He bucks his hips into you once, and your breath hitches.

“It really is fun,” he starts, brushing his lips against your neck, trailing delicate kisses down the length of it. “Y’know… if you’d actually try playing it.”

You whine, tilting your head to the side and allowing more space for him to kiss. “Listen, I was distracted, okay?”

“Oh, by what?”

“Like you don’t know.”

Eddie chuckles, a breathy sound just underneath your earlobe. His lips ghost down your neck, stopping at a place between it and your shoulder, and he sucks the skin into his mouth. You wince at the sudden pressure, but don’t protest. It’ll inevitably leave a mark, and it seems he knows it. Smiling at the reddened skin, he leans back to look at you, to gaze into your half-lidded eyes.

“You wanna’ go back to my place? Wayne’s outta’ town…”

You aren’t sure who Wayne is… but the implications of that hang heavy between you two. For a moment, you say nothing, letting your gaze drift back and forth between his eyes and his lips, but finally, you nod. Eddie grins and is dragging you around to the passenger side before you have a chance to change your mind. He throws open the door and circles his hand in front of it, beckoning you inside. “Your chariot awaits, m’lady.”

You can’t help but smile – the theatrics of his campaign are clearly still lingering. Once you’re in, Eddie shuts the door and hurries back around to the other side, retrieving his keys from his pocket. Tossing a confident smile your way, he stabs them into the ignition, turns them and the engine of the van roars to life.

The drive from the high school to the trailer park takes about ten minutes, but feels like twenty. Every time he pulls up on a stop sign, his hand drifts over to your thigh. He kneads it, his rings bumping together. Just when it starts to get good, just when his hand starts to drift up your skirt, he pulls it away, and accelerates.

Once you’re inside, Eddie flips on the lights and turns to you, expectantly. He knows what’s coming. He’s been riling you up the entire ride. The second the door is shut, your lips are on him, smearing hot, wet kisses all over his neck and jawline. Eddie’s laughing breathily, his hands roaming around your waist and ass. “So needy,” he says.

“I’ve been thinking about this since we….” Your voice trailed off, meeting his mouth in a sloppy kiss. Eddie keeps you there, holding your face tightly. He walks you backwards past the kitchen towards his bedroom until the back of your calves hit the mattress, and you wrap your arms around his neck. His hands trail up your waist, winding around the front of your body. It’s warm to the touch, and Eddie smiles as his large hands cup your breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze.

“Fuck, Eddie, oh my god…”

You claw at his leather jacket, trying to push it off his shoulders. You can’t get enough of him, and want him naked on top of you immediately. Enough teasing, enough foreplay. You’re desperate for him.

“Someone’s grabby. We’ll fix that.” He pushes you lightly backwards onto the bed, your ass bouncing against the mattress, the springs squeaking in protest.

He reaches around, pulling the black bandana from his back pocket, and shakes it out from its folded state. The heat that blossoms between your thighs is only worsening, becoming unbearable. One knee pressed into the bed, his body tilted slightly forward towards you. “Hands together, m’lady.”

At first, you stare, dumbfounded, up at him. He was… so cute. The dim, yellow lighting of the table lamp behind him creates a halo around his fluffy hair, akin to a renaissance painting. Some artist had to have painted an angel from this point of view… but there was nothing angelic about what was taking place. Nothing, because you were about to —

“Hello?” You blink once, twice. Had he been speaking the entire time? He quirks a brow, very obviously waiting for your response. His warm, chocolatey eyes hold yours in a death grip as he wraps the bandana around your wrists, tying it tightly in a knot. He hadn’t told you to look at him, at least not verbally. Deep down, you knew that you couldn’t look away if you tried. He knew that too. “Hands to yourself until I say so.”

“Yes, master.” He freezes, with his fingers still on the buckle of his belt and raises his head back up to look at you.

You try to speak, to undo what you’ve said, but only squeaks and a nervous string of ‘Uhhh’s come out. You drop your bound wrists into your lap with a dramatic huff, and roll your head back, staring embarrassed at the ceiling of his trailer. Truthfully, you hadn’t even known where that came from; you’d never called anyone ‘master’ in your entire life, and even mocked the concept. Master and Servant was a Depeche Mode song, not something you practiced in the bedroom.

“I don’t knoow — dungeon master? I don’t know where that came from, I’m — Eddie, please — PLEASE!” Your head snapped back up.

“Hey,” He cooed, brushing your bangs from your eyes. “It’s okay. I liked that. I just couldn’t tell if you were being serious or not.”

Eddie brings his face close to yours, nuzzling his nose against your cheeks. “Lay back for me, sweetheart.”

You do, bound hands resting on your stomach. Eddie shrugs out of his jacket, and pulls his shirt up from behind his back, tossing it onto the floor to join the rest of the clothes. You haven’t seen him shirtless before; the visual has your cunt clenching as your eyes dance over his tattoos, memorizing them.

You watch him with hearts in your eyes as he strolls half-naked over to his stereo, pops in a tape, shuts the door and hits play; the heavy sound of Metallica fills the small room. You smirk. He would. As the song builds, Eddie returns to the edge of the bed, creeping closer, walking his hands on the mattress until he’s close enough to press a kiss to each of your kneecaps. Just like before, he unzips your skirt and peels down your tights, taking his time with the action. Your breath catches in your chest when you feel his calloused fingers ghosting along the outside of your thighs, sweeping along the flesh as it prickles with goosebumps. It’s not cold by any means, but the sensation of his fingers has your skin reacting.

“Now that’s a sight for sore eyes…” he says, admiring the way you look, pantsless but still wearing the Hellfire Club shirt. “God damn… you should be on the cover of an album or something.” He tilts his head, staring for a moment longer before he’s pulling the shirt over your head, and yanking your panties over the wide curve of your hips.

The rest of your clothes join his on the floor of his bedroom, and you’re naked, lying on his stained sheets, writhing in anticipation. Eddie pulls your thighs apart carefully but forcefully, like he’s opening the jaws of a lion. He slots himself underneath your legs, hoisting your thighs onto the curve of his shoulders. As soon as you realize what’s about to transpire, he feels the sudden tension in your body and slides his hands up your waist tenderly.

“Just relax. I know what I’m doing.” His voice is commanding and heavy with desire.

Your eyes roll back in your head, teeth clamping down on your bottom lip; you feel your cunt clench at his lusty tone. You can feel your face flush with heat. Something about him makes you trust him, turn to putty in his grip – in fact, you’ve never trusted a man more in your life. You nod, inhaling a deep breath as he presses a kiss to your cunt. Some of your pathetic, shuddering whines are lost in the heavy guitar and drums of Metallica, which you’re grateful for. The feeling of his lips against her makes your whole body jerk violently, and Eddie’s hands are suddenly pressing down on your hips, holding them tight to the mattress.

“Easy, baby…”

You clench your jaws and shut your eyes, trying to slow your breathing, but that does little to pacify the feelings and how deeply he’s turning you on. His lips hover, his breath washing over her in small, warm gusts before he kisses her again, nuzzling his nose against the soft mound before his tongue slips in between the folds, flicking upwards. Still tied together, all you can do is lift your hands and wad them into tight fists. You could reach forward and push his head further into you, but he’d specifically ordered no touching. You whimper and writhe against the mattress, to which Eddie softly shakes his head against your cunt, muttering a ‘Mm-mm’, and again grips your hips tightly again, holding them in place.

“You like that?”

He swallows hard, before his tongue juts out again, toying with your clit, mercilessly flicking it back and forth and up and down. He encircles the swollen bundle of nerves and hums into your cunt, pleased at the visceral reaction from your body. Even over the music, you can hear the slick, suckling and slurping sounds he’s making, and above all, how wet you are, which is slightly mortifying, considering he’s only just started. Your juices leak onto his mattress, leaving yet another stain on his sheets.

“Words, sweetheart…” He pauses to say. One hand drifts between his legs, where he palms himself over his dark jeans. Eating you out has his cock achingly hard, and he wants nothing more than to sink it into you.

Words? You don’t even know what those are. You can barely form a single word, let alone an entire sentence as his tongue laps at you again, flattening out against your sensitive flesh. It takes you a few tries, but you finally manage to squeak out: “Huhhh- mmm-yeah. Gonna’... gonna’...”

Eddie pulls back slightly, pressing a single slick kiss against your inner thigh. “Yeah? So soon?”

You whimper, nodding. “Mmmh…. So…. so good…”

Bringing his hands underneath your ass, Eddie hoists your hips up, giving him a better angle to suck on your puffy clit. That does it – you’re unable to stop the floodgates. You cry out, bringing your bound hands to your face and pressing the balls of your palms against your mouth, pinching your bottom lip between them. Eddie swallows down your orgasm, bringing the tip of his tongue to your entrance as it squeezes.

As Eddie stands up and wipes the slick from his chin, the song changes, a single reverberating bell rings throughout the room. It brings a smirk to his lips. “For whom the bell tolls…” He says, running a single finger along the length of your quivering thigh. “The bell tolls for you, sweetheart.”

Completely spent, you lift your head weakly, brows peaked together in question. “Wh…what…”

Eddie palms himself again, stroking the swollen shaft through the fabric. His gaze is heavy, sweeping over your naked body as your chest heaves with laboured breaths. His long fingers move quickly, working to unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans. The jeans fall loose at his hips, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of a lewd outline and a spot where the blue plaid fabric has darkened with pre-cum. He kicks them off and steps out of the circle, smiling at you.

“Nothin’, baby. C’mere.”

Eddie gets onto the bed with one knee first, and walks his way over to you. You turn your head to look at him and heave a shaky sigh as he reaches underneath your torso, twisting you so you’re laying rightways on the bed, your head on a pillow.

“You ready?”

“R-ready for what?” You breathe.

“To have your world rocked, sweetheart.”

“Again?” You coo, looking up at him with big, dreamy eyes.

Eddie hooks his finger around the bandana and twists it around his index finger, tightening the fabric around your wrists. He yanks your hands up over your head, pressing them against the wall above. With his other hand still free, he pulls the waistband of his boxers down over the curve of his ass, allowing his heavy cock free. It slaps against his tummy, bobbing dangerously in front of your core. It occurs to you then how turned on he is over eating your pussy… his cock is leaking and twitching in front of you, begging for release.

Fuck.

At first, Eddie leans down, pressing his cock against your tummy as he kisses you. The kisses are sweet, tender, but passionate with a lingering hint of animalistic demand. He’s being gentle now, but you can feel the unbridled want behind his actions.

“Do it,” you say. “Fuck me.”

Eddie runs his tongue along his bottom lip and grins, taking hold of his cock with his free hand and giving it a few long strokes. A bead of precum oozes from the tip, stringing down to your stomach. He lines the tip up, and a warning pressure builds at your waiting entrance. You clench around the velvet soft head, and Eddie lets out a deep groan.

“Holy shit…” he says.

He tries to be gentle, but as soon as the tip breaches your slick hole and he feels how wet, how warm you are, he can’t help but sink every inch deep into you. He bucks his hips once, forcing his cock deep inside, and halts, allowing you a moment to adjust to the feeling of fullness. You gasp and tighten around him again, pulling a throaty sound from him.

He begins rocking his hips back and forth, his shaft sliding wetly out of you. It doesn’t take him more than a few seconds to find a mind-shattering rhythm that has you gasping and clawing the wall above you. He holds onto your bound wrists still, pinning them tightly against the wall. The power in his thrusts come from his core, bucking relentlessly up into you.

You lift your legs slightly, scooting up and pressing the roundness of your ass against his torso. As he thrusts, his palm presses low into your stomach, rings denting the flesh.

Over the drums and guitar, the slick, hollow slop slop of his cock hammering into you fills the room, and your vision goes blurry as your lids drift shut.

“F-fuck, Eddie… fuck!”

His wanton, concentrating gaze drifts between your legs, watching as he impales you over and over again. You moan loud, much louder than James Hetfield was singing. Eddie shudders and groans, making a deep, almost pained sound.

“You’re gonna kill me, you know that? Those moans are gonna’... Jesus Christ.”

You smile devilishly and meet his thrusts, rutting your hips against his. You see him clench his jaw, the muscles fluttering on the side of his face. The feelings are tantalizing him, and each jerk of his hips brings him closer to an orgasm.

“Jesus Christ,” he repeats, looking down at your sweat-glistened body, watching as your breasts rock back and forth with each movement of his hips. You strain against his grip, wanting so desperately to touch him.

“Master,” you whimper. “Let me touch your body… please….”

The singular word makes his cock twitch inside you. His other hand joins the right, and quickly undoes the knot of his bandana, tossing it behind him. Your greedy fingers immediately snap to his torso, clawing their way up his toned abdomen. Your digits trail over his tattoos, tracing them absentmindedly as Eddie keeps fucking into you, his jaw hanging slack, expression completely blissed out.

“Harder, Eddie,” you moan, pressing your head back into the pillow.

He obeys. Happily. He takes hold of your thighs, pressing them back against your body, exposing more of your cunt to him. His cock leaves you for a moment before he’s slamming back into you, heated and heavily.

It doesn’t take him long to reach a climax at this angle, or for you to reach your second one. You scream out, clawing at his abs as you clench around his dick, squeezing it in a vice-tight grip.

“Shit-shit-shit—” Eddie curses, looking down at your pussy. You feel the swelling throb of Eddie’s cock inside you as he paints you insides white. Your own orgasm has you shuddering against him, crying out his name.

Eddie collapses atop of you, his cock still inside, and nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck.

“That was…”

“Yeah,” you echo. “Yeah. It was.”

After a few minutes, you turn your head, and press a single kiss against his plump lips. “Soooo, can I sit at your table now? I’m tired of sitting at Jason’s preppy table.”

“Absolutely.”

#praying that this lives up to the first part lmao #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things smut #myfics

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kurishiri · 3 months ago

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ELBERT’S PROMISED EVENT ⋆⁺₊❅. to our greed this christmas: a wicked love on this holy night. ˗ˏˋ masterlist ´ˎ˗

The white snow falls and scatters about, blanketing the world in the wake of silence.

——But even so, the desire blossoming from the depths of our heart would not freeze over.

“ I want you more…until I can reach the deepest part within… ”

As Christmas approaches, I can feel your greed on my fingertips.

this is a collection event that doubles as the 2024 christmas event and elbert's promised event from the previous elections, as he was one of the top 5 suitors.

NOTE: i'm not sure if i will translate everything here. but whatever is translated by others, i will try to link here if i find them and credit!

as always, ♡ / ↻ / 💬 are heavily appreciated!

ᨒ↟𖠰⋆ EARLY CLEAR BONUS.

୨ ♡ ୧ ﹑elbert greetia﹒⟢

ᨒ↟𖠰⋆ COLLECTION STORIES.

﹙❄️﹚⟡﹒darius vogel﹕ꜝ

⌒﹒！liam evans﹒ꪆ୧ ₊

ʬʬ﹐⬚﹒victor﹒☃️ [@.reccyls]

꒰🌨️꒱ ，william rex﹒！﹒zᶻ

♡﹒꒰꒰🧣﹒﹒ellis twilight

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cosmowgyral · 2 months ago

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A Beast's Drink~ Christmas Special Story

𝑺𝒊𝒍𝒗𝒊𝒐 & 𝑨𝒛𝒆𝒍

This is a fan translation so please don't expect it to be 100% accurate. Creative liberties have been taken. All content belongs to Cybird.

One winter day, as Christmas was nearing in Benitoite….

Azel: I knew about the Christmas celebrations, but this is so gorgeous and wonderful. It smells like money.

Silvio: Is this okay? A God is celebrating the birth of a God.

Azel: Is that a problem? I always have had faith in you, Prince Silvio.

Silvio: That was not what I was talking ‘bout.

Silvio: Even so…ya still ain’t drinking alcohol.

Azel: I don’t drink alcohol, but I am having juice in a wine glass to show my respect to the God of Wealth.

Azel: Please allow these fine alcohols to be offered to the God of Wealth.

Silvio: We’ve prepared the offerings and everything else.

Silvio: Also, if ya wanna show respect, stop calling me that. That’s downright disrespectful.

Silvio: So, what do ya want?

Azel: What do you mean?

Silvio: Ya came all the way here at this time of the year. There’s gotta some reason behind it.

Azel: Christmas

Silvio: Huh?

Azel: I came to see the Christmas celebrations.

Azel: It is something that does not happen in my country.

Silvio: Hah, a God himself is inspecting the religious festivities of some other country? It ain’t easy being a living God.

Azel: Oh I am serious.

Azel: In Tanzanite, my birthday celebrations are somewhat similar to the Christmas celebrations here.

Azel: But unfortunately, we do not expect the same amount of commercial benefits as Christmas.

Azel: In that aspect, Benitoite’s Christmas is truly splendid.

Azel: It encourages consumption of cakes, alcohol and other lavish meals, and also stimulates the desire of purchasing things under the pretext of ‘gifts’.

Azel: Especially when it comes to seasonal foods and items. They are the ones of most value as customers always rush to buy them.

Azel: There’s no reason to not have this.

Silvio: You’re the same old greedy bastard.

Azel: And that’s not all.

Silvio: Huh?

Azel: On the surface you’re a billionaire, but on the inside, you’re a kind-hearted man like Santa Clause..

Azel: Seems like this God, who has a philanthropic spirit and abundant wealth, distributes presents to the poor every year.

Silvio: ….....

Azel: You understand what I mean, right?

Silvio: Is this it? A new threat?

Azel: Not at all. It's just a simple request.

Silvio: Sorry, but Santa Claus only gives presents to ‘good kids’.

Silvio: In other words, you aren’t eligible for the distribution.

Silvio: In a lot of ways..

Azel: ………

Azel: That really hurt me. I am a very good and merciful God.

Azel: I don’t think I’ll be able to recover from this unless I receive compensation.

Silvio: Huh? A good person? You?

Silvio: Ya sure know how to use your words. You should quit being a God and become a con-man instead.

Azel: When Prince Silvio says that he wants me to become his personal con-man, it makes my heart waver.

Silvio: Don’t let it waver. The hell’s a personal con-man anyway?

Azel: He’s like a supreme blessing, always by Prince Silvio’s side, granting him protection, money, and gifts.

Silvio: He seems like a curse.

Azel: Saying God is a curse….is it okay if I demand double the compensation?

Silvio: Sure, by all means.

Azel: I would appreciate a Christmas gift then.

Azel: Good things come from showing your devotion to God. For instance…

Azel: The true identity of Benitoite’s Santa Claus will remain shrouded in mystery forever…

Silvio: Hah, you’re asking for hush money?

Azel: You are actually having trouble, aren’t you? Some of the kids seem to have noticed.

Azel: I can protect their innocence by wrapping them in dreams. It’s not a bad deal.

Silvio: Ya really are perceptive.

Azel: I have a principle of never missing out on big-money opportunities.

Silvio: Fine. I’ll give ya the gift ya want, so work hard to make up for it, my personal con-man.

Azel: As Prince Silvio wishes.

This is my first translation of a full story so there might be mistakes here and there.

I hope you guys enjoyed reading and re-blogs are appreciated! ♡

Video credits: @otomehoneyybearr

#ikemen prince silvio #ikemen prince azel #azel radwan #silvio ricci #ikepri silvio #ikepri azel #ikepri #ikepri jp #ikepri translations #ikemen prince #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #otome games #d: strangergraphics #d: enchanthings

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almostempty · 5 months ago

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self esteem part 4 - the more you suffer (joel x f!reader)

wc: 12.1k | masterlist | rating: 18+ | read on ao3 |

part 1 ⎯ part 2 ⎯ part 3 ⎯

hey y’all, it’s me back with more farm-to-table Joel smut. Took a while to figure this one out, but I hope you’re hungry horny bc it’s lengthy and full o’ fuckin’.

summary: Date Night Dave is back by popular demand, and fuckboy Joel finally experiences a consequence???

warnings/tags: fuckboy!Joel, gratuitous smut, pwp, alcohol use, unprotected piv sex (that has no physical consequences bc it’s fiction and I like it that way), oral sex, public blow job, cock warming in a car, reoccuring guest appearance by dom!dave, date night dave inspo from the cartier campaign bc that's rich dave right??? au/ooc dave york is single/rich/mysterious and down to clown, jealous!joel, soft!joel, cuck!joel, jorkin’!joel, some angsty bits, no use of y/n, voyeur/exhibitionistish, light d/s dynamics, light (?) degradation/humiliation, praise kink, AU modern/no outbreak, overall just a lot of sex with some feelings in between, no beta blame all mistakes on me/adhd/insomnia

a/n: please leave feedback! Tell me all ur thots!

thanks: to everyone who has read parts 1-3, that means the world to me

Dedicated to @gothcsz for the punishment inspo and @auteurdelabre for encouraging my delusions , and @strangergraphics for dividers

All I can fuckin’ think about.

It’s like it was a curse, not a confession. Joel’s voice plays on a loop in your mind. For days. You hear it when you wake up, against your will. It’s a reflex at this point. You hear it when your mind drifts at work, when Katie blathers on about who knows what on your brunch date, and it gets loudest at night when you can’t sleep. It repeats and repeats and repeats. Taunting you, describing you, mocking you. Leading you on.

Occasionally, you play the tape all the way through. Finishing the rest of the scene. Starting with 'All I can fuckin’ think about' all the way up to when that coward skipped out the door at the first glimpse of that thread connecting you. The first sign of something laced with vulnerability.

Every minute that passes since you’ve been cursed with Joel Miller’s enigmatic mid-coitus confession is torture. Slow, painful, agony. Time drags so excruciatingly slowly that you feel like months have passed, but it’s only been three days since you were cursed with this affliction when you get a text. Well, it’s practically a fucking email. A business memo.

Dave: Hey, I wanted to follow up. I enjoyed our date and would love to see you again. I’m out of town for the next 72 hours, but I’d like to take you out for drinks again when I return. I can pick you up again Thursday night, same time? Or, if you’d rather, I’ll be available earlier in the evening on Friday. If you’d like to do dinner.

Dave: I’ll be honest, though; I’d prefer to see you sooner than later.

Holy shit.

You reread the message at least three times as you sink onto your sofa. Your stomach flips at his second message, before you start trying to pick it apart, anyway.

It’s almost too…formal? Cordial? Maybe you’re just used to only getting cryptic sentence fragments from Joel, who texts like he’s rocking a Nokia 3310. Because it’s also so direct. Dave is not afraid to communicate clearly and express his interest in you. It’s not overtly sexual, but not nonchalant, Goldilocks approves.

You grin at the phone in your hand, and your gaze veers off until you’re staring at the wall, projecting the replay of your date with Dave like a movie at the drive-in. His mouth grazing your ear as he murmured filthy thoughts to you at the table, his fingers skating up your thigh, the taste of his cock sliding along your tongue, and the sounds that started from deep in his chest before he came down your throat.

It’s not like Dave wasn’t memorable, but damn, you had been wallowing in your feelings over Joel like it was your full-time job. Fuck that. Dave is a welcome distraction. You agree to drinks and let him know you’re looking forward to seeing him, before swapping to your text thread with Katie.

You: is it just because the bar is in hell for men, or is it appropriate for my pussy to flood over a man with a plan???

Katie: Can it be both?

Katie: Oh my god

Katie: PLEASE tell me it’s the bathroom blowjob guy

Katie: Is he planning a second date?

Katie: I told you! Green flags!

You: maybe 🙃

……..

Knowing you have a date to look forward to eases the sting. The memory of Joel walking out the door. You can still hear his fucking bedroom voice in your ear, but the chokehold loosens slightly. You fill the next couple of days with anything and everything to make the time pass faster. Too busy to have the time to check your phone or, worse, text Joel.

Dave continues to be everything Joel isn’t. Communicative, confirming your plans the morning of, punctual, pulling up precisely on time, and a gentleman greeting you with a compliment and opening the car door for you. You know you've let the demented demons within you get a little too comfortable when the green flags almost give you the ick. Katie’s voice echoes in your ears, and you suck it up.

It turns out Distraction Dave is just as hot as you remember–even without a jealous Joel-shaped ogre stirring your loins from across the room. He exudes a debonair charm with his tailored, quiet luxury brand look. You feel a wave of insecurity lurch in your chest before you realize he’s got you on his arm like you’re a designer accessory. He’s pleased to be seen with you as he guides you to your table in the dimly lit jazz-style lounge. It puts you at ease when he takes the lead in making decisions.

The cocktails are strong, but you’ve only had a few sips before. It’s Dave who has you feeling warm in the face. He’s flirty but doesn’t push. He doesn’t assume you will get handsy under the table again. In your twisted brain, that only emboldens you to make a move. He’s still talking, but you aren’t really listening, distracted by his neck and lips and how close you are to each other.

Close enough that it’s no stretch to slide your hand from your lap to his. You drag your hand slowly, up up up. When the corner of his mouth curls into a smirk, you feel your pulse jump. The atmosphere fades, and the noise blurs as your senses lock onto him. Dave’s brow twitches just before his hand covers yours.

“There she is,” his smile is devilishly handsome with a dark glint in his eyes, “my dirty girl.” His voice, his words, and the heat of his hand sprinkle horny fairy dust over you. “Thought about you all week,” he confesses.

All I can fuckin’ think about.

You swallow your intrusive Joel-voiced thought. Flush it away into the sewer.

“Me?” you ask coyly, batting your lashes. He hums, affirming. His hand squeezes yours, and heat starts to pool between your legs. “What about me?” your eyes have a sparkle in them as you sip your drink. He leans closer to you, nose grazing the soft skin behind your ear, and your eyes flutter shut.

“Thought about your pretty face,” he tips your chin towards him with his free hand, so close he’s all you can see. “Thought about these lips,” he gently kisses you, retreating before you can escalate the intensity. You pout at the distance when he draws back and smirks at your needy expression. “Thought I might not hear back from you with how distracted you were by your not-ex not-stalking you last time.”

An ache flares in your heart before you drown it with irritation. Garbled words stick in your throat. Something sharp and defensive tries to slash through, but Dave continues, unbothered before you can get anything out of your mouth.

“Mostly,” his crisp, rich scent washes over you as he dips into dot kisses up your neck, dissolving your defenses. His warm breath tickles your ear as he husks in a low tone, “I thought about how this greedy throat felt trying to swallow my cock,” his fingers wrap around your neck for emphasis, and he feels your quiet whimper of a response.

Your cheeks burn. He claims your lips with a hungry kiss that has your moans vibrating in your throat beneath his hand. It’s urgent and needy how your tongues, teeth, and lips collide. When his other hand finally releases yours, and he possessively cups either side of your jaw in his large palms, you’re lost momentarily. Consumed by the sensation of Dave’s tongue sliding against yours and the desire to crawl into his lap and straddle him here in the booth.

You shove away the thought of Joel that flashes through your mind and double down on your desire for Dave. You bite sharply at his bottom lip, roughly knocking your faces together as you press your body into his, demanding more intensity as you make out.

When you break apart, you feel the crazed expression on your face as you smirk at the man in front of you. “I’ll give you more to think about,” you say more breathlessly than you intended, but the message is still clear.

You dive back in, licking a hot stripe up his neck and biting at his earlobe. Your hand is back on task, groping for Dave’s thick erection when he stops you again. He tugs your hand away, and you huff.

Dave laughs, enjoying the frustration on your features as he tucks your hair back behind your ear. He’s rudely composed while you’re on fire.

“Finish your drink,” he tilts his head towards the antique glass in front of you. You down the rest in an impolite gulp, wiping at the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand. Dave shakes his head softly, a mix of mild disbelief and something headier. “That’s a good girl,” he acquiesces you for following his direction with gusto.

His praise drips over you like warm honey, easing the confusion you felt at his rejection of your touch. He answers your unspoken question, “We can stay here, dirty girl, but I’d prefer to take you home so I can get my mouth on you this time.” The close quarters in the booth have you nearly nose to nose. A smirk spreads across his face when your lips part at his proposal.

“Let’s go,” you respond quickly, it’s an easy decision.

He takes you to his condo nearby. It’s modern, masculine, and decorated but not very revealing of anything more personal about him. He wastes no time leading you to the bedroom, and you’re just as eager to get him into bed.

But when your impatient hands start tugging at his clothes, he grips you harshly, fingertips digging into the flesh of your upper arms, pinning them to your sides, essentially immobilizing you as he holds you back. He has this look to him like he knows something that you don’t, and that’s enough to make you pause.

“She’s hungry, hm?” it’s phrased like a question, but you don’t think he’s expecting a real answer. His eyes rove over you before he relaxes his grip.

“Sit.”

You obey without a thought, perching on the edge of the perfectly made bed before him. “That’s a good girl,” his voice has a raw edge to it, and the phrase shoots straight to your core. You fight to keep still, overwhelmed with the sudden need to please him and convinced he wants to see how closely you’ll follow his orders.

Dave’s eyes are full of lust and something darker as he studies you, his presence looming, commanding, and teasing. “Look at you, ready for more.” His tone is mocking but coated with approval that tingles along your spine. He grabs your chin, lifting your face to meet his gaze again, “You liked the risk last time. Coming on my fingers under the table.”

You nod, and he grants you a flash of a smile. It’s gorgeous but restrained and tampered back down.

"And you liked being on your knees for me. You liked taking my cock down your throat, didn’t you?”

You nod again, but his fingers dig into your cheeks slightly, a silent reprimand. His voice drops to a low growl, “Use your words.” Your eyes widen before you blink away the mixture of shock and thrill.

"Yes,” you get the word out in a quietly, “I liked it," you manage to add a hint of confidence.

The corner of his mouth twitches. Satisfaction flickers in his eyes. “Of course you did,” he strokes your cheek gently, “you did such a good job taking care of me last time.” His adoration flutters across your skin, spreading heat. “But it’s my turn now, isn’t it?”

The wicked smirk on his face makes you feel lightheaded as he lowers himself in front of you. Your knees part reflexively to let him move closer. “That’s a good girl. Spread these legs for me,” he continues as he runs his hands along your smooth legs until he’s bunching up the bottom of your dress.

Without wasting a second, his mouth is on you, kissing the soft crease of your thighs and sucking an open mouth kiss over the damp fabric covering your core. His hands anchor your thighs, thumbs caressing your flesh in a mockery of tenderness as his mouth delivers a sinful symphony sucking at your skin, nipping at you in a way that makes your thighs tense beneath his grip and spewing dirty thoughts.

“So wet for me,” he mutters as he raises in front of you, pulling you to stand so he can strip you bare. Your arms hang submissively by your sides as his hand moves slowly, down your jaw, wrapped around your throat, down your chest, pausing to marvel at the sight of your tits in his palms and how your mouth parts when he kneads them in his hands.

You wonder if you should feel vulnerable as he proceeds with his inspection, but the precision of his movements keeps you lulled. Dave’s hand slips between your legs and his fingers trace the slick seam of your cunt. You can’t help the whiny groan you respond with as you strain to remain still for him.

He snickers at your struggle, then makes it worse. “You’re dripping, you know that?” the mocking tone in his voice does something just right to you, “such a needy slut.” Oh. That has your thighs flexing, tightening around his hand as he continues to torture you, parting the lips of your pussy with his fingers, drawing circles too slowly.

“Have to stop myself from bending you over now and fucking you hard and fast.” Your body floods with need at the idea, dripping around his fingers and causing your hips to jerk.

“Please,” you whisper. You figure it’s polite enough.

"Ah, ah," he warns, pulling back. "I know you’d like that, dirty girl.”

Yes! You consider spinning around and giving him your best tempting display, hoping he’ll give in, but he seems to be a step ahead. “Lay down. You’ll get what you want.”

Dave has a wicked gleam in his eyes as you spread out across the bed for him. He’s deliberate when he gets between your legs, spreading them wide and skipping the teasing kisses this time. He drags his tongue from your entrance to your throbbing clit before his plush lips wrap around you. The suction and pressure are dizzying, and you fill the room with panting and moaning.

Your hips chase his mouth as he uses his tongue expertly, alternating between lazy circles and sharp flicks. The pleasure builds as he works at you. His technique gradually becomes indelicate, using everything he’s got in a way that makes you feel wild. His nose nudges at your clit as he dips further down. He allows you to keep rolling your hips gently as you rock against his chin before he pulls back.

"Look at you, already unraveling for me," he says, voice drenched in amusement. "So desperate. She wants it all, hm?"

“Yes,” you whine, and your moans keep flowing as the pressure coils tighter within you.

“Good,” he asserts, “come for me.” It’s a demand that has you gasping when he punctuates it with his fingers plunging inside of you. If you weren’t so enraptured by the growing pleasure and his voice, you might nitpick the logistics of coming on command–but he gives you no room for debate.

Persuasively compelling your orgasm to hit as his fingers fuck into you and he sucks your clit into his furnace of a mouth. He doesn’t relent. The intensity of his mouth and fingers overwhelms you through the violent flash of pleasure and remains consistent as you writhe and contract, coming back down to earth.

He's working you back up before you can fully recover or process his praise. Coaxing you toward another peak, capitalizing on his command of your mind and body. Every flick of his tongue pushes you higher until you’re gripping at the bed to stay in place.

The ache for release teeters on unbearable as Dave’s groan buzzes through you. You tremble, sticking to the sheets with the sweat of desperation. You’re not cognizant of how you’re pleading with Dave, “Yes, yes, yes!”

But just as you’re about to tip over the edge, he stops, sitting up.

“Hey!” you’re on edge and disoriented.

"On your hands and knees," he orders, rougher now. "I’ve had my fill."

Oh shit.

You scramble to obey, face hot with frustration and need as you arch in presentation for him. His hands spread your cheeks so he can get a good, long look at the sight of your glossy, swollen cunt.

"That’s good, dirty girl, so eager," he chuckles, lining himself up against your entrance, teasing you deliciously with the slightest stretch. "You want me to fuck you hard, don’t you?"

"Yes," you breathe, the word spilling out before you form a thought.

"That’s what I thought." He pushes inside you in one smooth, hard thrust, and you gasp as he fills you completely, stretching you wide. He pauses only long enough to feel your walls rippling with contractions around the length of him, confirming his prediction. “Yeah, knew this tight little cunt would take me so well.”

You can only hum mindlessly in response before he sets a rough pace. Gripping firmly at your hips, he keeps you in place as he drives into you, grunting with the force as his hips smack against your ass, adding more lewd noise to the moans and single-syllable words you cry out.

You’re slipping away in the feeling of him pounding into you from behind. So mindless as your body bounces off of him that, for a split second, your tortured mind drifts to Joel. Joel’s voice and his filthy mouth, how he always gets you to beg for more. You tense up, eyes wide, hoping you haven’t said his name in your stupor.

Mercifully, Dave doesn’t seem to react. He continues at the same pace until his hand slides up your spine, gripping the back of your neck as he knocks your legs wider with his, angling you lower and thrusting even deeper inside of you. It’s a sharp, blinding need to come that possesses you.

“Don’t stop,” you plead between gasping breaths.

He gives you a slap for that. The sting has your eyes nearly rolling back like a caricature. Dave is launched closer to his own release because of your desperation, your ass jiggling, and his view of his cock disappearing inside of you over and over in time with your moans.

He gives you exactly what you need as you shift, letting your weight fall into your shoulders so you can snake your hand back to swirl your fingers over your clit with precision, quickly bringing yourself to the peak. You fall apart around him as he grips your hips forcefully, using you as he needs while waves of pleasure debilitate you.

He doesn’t slow down, pounding into you until his own release verges on crashing into him, and with a low, strained sound, he pulls out. The wet sounds of his fist are drowned out by the groan you both make as you collapse without his support, and he comes across your ass and lower back.

For a moment, neither of you moves, both panting as you come down from the high. Then, with a satisfied hum, he leans down and presses a soft, almost tender kiss to your shoulder. "Good girl," he murmurs, a soothing balm after the intensity. And, when he returns with a warm washcloth to clean you up, you feel glowy and drunk in his bed.

Dave drives you home, at your request, and walks you to your door like a gentleman. He repeats that he would be happy to see you again.

And he does.

You both get what you want out of the arrangement. Neither of you wants a relationship and has an interest in an emotional connection. Dave isn’t always available, but he’s communicative and arranges to pick you up once or twice a week when he’s free.

He always offers to take you for drinks or dinner at his favorite spots. Some nights, you just ask him to take you straight to his perfectly made bed. The nights you desperately need him to fuck Joel’s voice out of your head.

It works, for the most part, as the weeks pass. Katie rolls her eyes at you when you claim you prefer your weekly dick appointments to a real relationship, but her judgment fades when you give her a juicy detail or two about the things Dave says to you in bed. You’re grateful to have an easy out to redirect her because you don’t feel strong enough to let her see the festering wound in your chest, still refusing to let go of Joel.

Most days, it’s dull enough to manage. It’s more of a cruel joke when you hear Joel’s voice in your head first thing upon waking. When your phone buzzes and your heart stutters, you laugh bitterly at yourself for thinking it could be that stubborn asshole. It’s never him. You don’t hear from him. You don’t reach out. You consider blocking him altogether but can’t bring yourself to do it. You don’t see him on any nights out with Katie.

You bite your tongue when you see Tommy at another karaoke night. You can’t ask about Joel, nobody knew you had been seeing each other, if that’s what you could even call it. You strategically keep yourself on the opposite end of the table from Tommy, hoping to stay out of earshot if he mentions the man haunting your thoughts.

But as you drink your feelings one after another, they evolve. Anger swirls as you think of texting Joel and calling him out for being a gutless wonder. You pull out your phone and open your messages, rereading the last text from him.

Joel: Miss me?

Out of context, the two words trip you up momentarily. Even though you’ve reread them more times than you’d like to admit. And replayed that night more than you can stand. You don’t type anything to him. Your anger still burns in your gut.

You attempt to engage with your friends, but it’s all for show. You can’t stop glancing towards Tommy, the door, or your phone. Your anger converts into something you can’t escape.

After one more drink, your vision keeps getting blurry, not exactly from the booze.

You try to blink back the tears in your waterline, excusing yourself from the group and dashing for the bathroom. Something messy and hurt and possesses you. Destabilizing you entirely as you feel yourself breaking down.

Weaving between bodies until you’re slamming into a stall and collapsing into a wobbly-limbed mess. Ugly sobs rip through your diaphragm, stirring up the most vulnerable fears and a cruel internal voice. Why are you hung up on someone that treated you like shit? You think it’s what you deserve? You can’t even move on? You still can’t stand up for yourself?

Someone else enters the bathroom, and you try to hold yourself together, but they catch your sobs and ask if you’re alright. You do your best to assure the stranger that you’re okay.

“If he makes you feel like that, he ain’t worth it, hon’,” she offers before leaving you with your thoughts in the bathroom.

You know she meant it to be helpful, but it knocks you deeper into your feelings. You’re upset, and for what? Does he even care? Has he actually thought of you even once? He isn’t worth it. He isn’t worth it, and you still can’t stop the tears pathetically streaming down your face. It hurts even worse to know you shouldn’t care.

You stand up, and your head spins, not just from the emotional agony but from the alcohol. When you not-so-gracefully emerge and see yourself in the mirror, you nearly lock yourself back in the stall and vow to live here now. You can’t return to the table with your eyes that swollen and red and your mascara rubbed away.

You don’t want to be seen at all. You want to be left in bed to wrestle with your self-esteem and crippling grief over something that never existed.

You pull out your phone, only dropping it once before sending off your hail Mary, hoping Dave can pick you up.

Where?

The response is almost instant. You send off the name of the bar and do your best to make yourself look presentable before marching back towards your friends. You give Katie a quick hug from the side, yell-whispering into her ear that Dave is picking you up and you’ll text her tomorrow, before you slip away as quickly as you can manage. Bouncing off the back of a chair on your mission to get outside.

You lean against the cool brick wall, eyes closed, taking deep breaths of the crisp fall air as you wait for your ride. You can hear the bass from another club across the street and the laughs and shouts from the gaggle of smokers gathered further up the block. You feel syrupy and wrung out, but you aren’t going to be sick. You just need to get home.

“You alright?” A smooth voice cuts into your thoughts. You jerk your head more dramatically than you intended, taking in Tommy’s concerned brown eyes with a sigh. Of course.

“Just waiting for my ride,” you do your best to act sober and emotionally stable. Whatever that looks like.

“I’ll wait with you,” he decides.

Your shoulders drop. You must not be very convincing. “Really, I’m fine,” you add, leaning your head against the wall.

“Right,” he steps back but doesn’t leave. He lights a cigarette and allows you the silence as he smokes alongside you. It’s kind, you suppose, not wanting to leave you alone on the street. But he’s the last person you want to be next to right now. Or maybe second to last, you realize when he laughs and steps forward with a wave, drawing your attention to a scene that stops your heart.

A familiar truck pulls up to the curb in front of you, and you take back your earlier assessment. You feel like you are gonna be sick. Your stomach lurches, and you feel the panic rising in your throat.

“What are you doing here?” Tommy shouts, “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, like maybe if you keep them closed, you’ll blend in with the wall.

“Just giving a friend a ride,” Joel responds gruffly from inside his truck. Your plan immediately fails. His voice compels you to look at him.

Some unspoken fucking sibling communication happens between the two of them, and then Joel is staring at you. Unreadable. “You getting in?” he hollers at you.

“No,” you mumble barely audible. You clear your throat, feeling hoarse, and try again. “I’m waiting for my ride.”

“I think it’s here, darlin’,” Tommy says as he steps towards you to usher you towards Joel’s truck. You shrug him off, pulling out your phone to check your messages. To see how long it’s been since you told Dave your location.

You didn’t.

You texted Joel.

You’re mortified. No, no, no. This cannot be real. You didn’t text this hot nightmare. There’s no way he would’ve responded.

He did.

Joel: Where?

You’re still shaking your head and trying to wrap your head around the situation. You’re the architect of your own worst nightmare now. A disaster asking to be rescued by the guy who knows exactly how to twist the knife in your gut. You’re spiraling inwards.

Completely unaware of the exchange between Joel and Tommy. Or how gone, you look to them.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel mutters at Tommy as he comes round to help you into the truck. “What’d she have?”

“Hey,” Tommy defends, “I just came outside, and she said she was waitin’ on her ride. I don’t know shit.”

“Figures,” he’s still grumbling as he shuts the door. You’re in shock as you sit in the cab of Joel’s truck. The only other time you were inside was the night you met.

“Shit,” you curse at yourself as Joel gets in and pulls away from the curb.

He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t say anything. Just drives in silence. Through every light, all the way across town.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, “I didn’t mean to text you.” It hangs in the thick silence. You focus so hard on keeping your breathing steady, tamping down the sobs fighting to break through, that you barely register the tears that stream down your face.

You hear him sigh before his hand rests on your thigh, “What happened?” he croaks like it hurts to speak.

You’re reeling at that. Hearing him sigh like you’re a hindrance, like your emotions are a burden like it pains him to ask. You don’t have the clarity of mind to filter yourself.

“Nothing,” you snap, glaring at his hand. “Don’t pretend like you care,” you dig, refusing to look at him, hot tears still rolling down your cheek. He doesn’t ask again. But he doesn’t pull his hand back, and you don’t move it until he’s shifting into park.

Against your better judgment, you turn to face him. Your gut twists at the sight of him so close to you. After you’ve been left alone with your thoughts for so long. You can’t read his stoic face or his beautiful dark eyes.

“Thank you,” you murmur, trying not to linger on how insane you must seem. Asking for a ride, snapping at him, and then thanking him. You cringe at yourself, trying to swipe the tears under your eyes away like that’ll make you seem more put together.

You hop out of the cab and take a second to steady yourself. Joel’s door slams as he rounds the front of the truck to steady you.

“Don’t,” you mutter. He puts an arm around you as if it’s natural, and you still.

“Baby,” he says, low and soothing, “let me help.”

Baby. It stirs the stupid butterflies in your stomach until your brain catches up.

“No,” you shove him away. It’s weak, but he steps back.

“C’mon,” he urges you, “let’s just get you inside.”

“No,” you still don’t move. Afraid you’ll fall apart if you try. You need him to leave before you come apart. If he touches you, you know you’ll beg him to fuck your pain away.

“I can’t do it again.” You muster your courage, but when you look at his face, a soft sob finally breaks through, and your body shudders, gasping for a breath, “Please.”

His face darkens. His arms hang limply at his sides before his fists tighten. The street is quiet in the dark. “You think I’m here to fuck you?”

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?” it’s a genuine question, but it rings harsh in the night with your uneven breathing. You fumble, dropping your keys when you finally dig them out of your bag, swearing under your breath. He grabs them before you and offers them to you, dropping them into your hand, avoiding your touch.

You mumble thanks and stalk towards your door. He stays put, watching until you’re inside before he turns to leave.

……

You get a text from Katie the following morning.

Katie: Girl, are you alive?

Katie: You wanna tell me why Dave looked an awful lot like Joel?

You: not really. did Tommy say something?

Katie: No?? I was trying to get a glimpse of your man when I saw you getting into Joel’s truck??

You: I texted the wrong number

Katie: ….

Katie: Uh, unless you’ve got him in your phone as Daddy Joel (real) I don’t think those letters are that close together babe

Katie: WAIT

Katie: When did you get Joel’s number? He barely talks to anyone!

Kate: Don’t answer that, I’m coming over and bribing you with a hangover cure bacon egg n’ cheese and you’re telling me everything

You: and a cold brew?

Katie: Duh

…………..

“Fuck,” Joel grumbles when he hears a knock at his door. He knows exactly what this is. He lets Tommy in without a word and tromps back to his kitchen to get another coffee before his interrogation starts. He sits at the table, and levels the darkest “don’t start with me” glare he can, but his idiot brother has always been immune.

…………….

“What do you mean?” you whine at Katie from your side of the couch. “There’s no use trying to talk to him; he’s emotionally constipated, and he only wants one thing from me.”

“Maybe there’s more to him,” she suggests vaguely.

“You were the one telling me to drop him and move on anyway!” you argue like a child.

“I didn’t know it was him!”

“How does that change anything?” you glare at her. Katie chews at her lip while you devour the last of your breakfast sandwich. It’s cold. You had been so wrapped up in your recollection of the ups and downs of your non-relatioinship with Joel you forgot to finish eating while it was fresh. It feels like a stupid metaphor about how he forgot to take care of yourself when you were drawn into his toxic cycle.

You thought confessing would reduce the weight on your chest. You weren’t prepared for Katie to add to your delusion.

“I don’t think it’s really my place to share his… baggage,” she muses.

“Since when?” you cut her a nasty look.

“I just think,” she pauses, and you ball up the foil from your sandwich and throw it at her, earning you a glare, “It’s complicated.”

“Okay, Avril Lavigne,” you mock. “You’re the worst, and this is not helpful! You’ve gotta give me something. Is he married? Am I the mistress? Is he a felon? A drug dealer?”

“You think I wouldn’t warn you about any of those?”

“I don’t know. I never thought you’d be taking his side,” you say in a serious tone.

“I’m not defending him!” She holds up her hands in surrender. “You deserve better than fuckboy behavior from a grown man.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s just,” he considers her words as your eyes narrow, “it seemed like it meant more than that. You were practically glowing half the summer.”

“And a lifeless zombie the rest of the time?”

“A cute zombie?” she shrugs. “I’m serious, though. Do you think he’d show up to rescue anyone else–no questions asked? That fast?” her words get softer.

“I don’t know,” you mutter, draping yourself miserably along the end of the couch, trying not to think about the times Joel bent you over the armrest. “I don’t know him at all, really.”

“Do you want to?”

Yes! A naive part of you shouts, hopeful and bright, blind to the reality of your situation. Oh, no. Definitely not. You dropkick that idea right to the back of your mind. Ignoring the way it screams until it’s muffled by the dejected, logical thoughts. “I can’t risk it,” you respond weakly.

Katie hears it. The ever-resilient part of you that tries to stay one step ahead cracks and lets the vulnerability out. You refuse to worsen the abandonment wound, but it’s entangled in your heart.

Katie doesn’t bring it up again. She spends the rest of the day with you, ordering takeout and putting on your favorite movies, like you’re going through a breakup. It helps.

…………

Life lulls back into the same routine. Except now, when you wake up, it’s Joel’s face–not his voice–that haunts you. The

Instead of Joel’s voice haunting you when you wake up–it’s his face. The way he looked hurt. The way he dropped your keys into your hand

when you begged him not to come inside. It sinks like a stone in your stomach that you carry all day as you go through the motions. It feels hollow, but you persist. Your friends lighten the dark fog. Dave’s praise soothes the ache, and he fucks you so hard you can forget almost forget.

But Joel lurks in your walls, in your skin, and you swear you see his headlights sweep over your living room, but it’s never his truck. At least not in the two weeks since karaoke night. You’ll never understand the trickery that makes misery slow time, but every day has felt bloated and stretched.

Sick of feeling sick, the following week, when Joel’s face pops up, the second you open your eyes, you curse him. Spite simmers in your bones. If he had something to say, he had all the time in the world to show up and say it. Channeling the malaise into something darker, you let your anger renew your energy.

All I can fuckin’ think about MY ASS.

You’re itching for the distraction by the time you’re getting ready for your date with Dave this evening. You know you’re going to be a menace, and it’ll turn him on, which already has you smirking to yourself. You’re almost ready when you hear a knock at your door. You frown, checking the time. Dave’s usually precisely on time, not early. Close enough, you figure, slinging your bag over your shoulder and heading for the door.

You swing it open, ready to see Dave, but your jaw drops when you see Joel. He’s caught off guard by your date night look and hesitates as his eyes sweep over your little black dress. Without a thought you slam the door in his face.

What the fuck?

He knocks again, loudly, as if you weren’t standing on the other side with your mouth gaping like a fish. But the pounding brings you back to reality.

You open the door and start before he even has a chance.

“It’s been three weeks since I last saw you, Miller, and that was an accident! I don’t know how long it was before that, but now you’re gonna show up and ruin another date? I don’t fucking think so. You’ve got five minutes. Spit it out. What are you doing here?”

He blinks dumbly for a moment. Taken aback by your words and still breathless at seeing you all dolled up for your date. You cross your arms, unimpressed so far. That’s somehow worse. The irritated look on your face makes him want to fuck the attitude out of you. He takes a deep breath, trying to refocus before he starts.

“You’re right,” his voice is gentler than you remember–It’s criminal really, “I shouldn’t have waited.” He pauses and swallows thickly. Is he nervous? That’s new. “I’m not great with words, and I haven’t given you any reason to give me the time of day. I’m here to apologize.”

“Go on then.”

“It wasn’t right of me to run from you–”

“Which time?” you won’t let him get through this easily. Not now. He lets that sink in. The vulnerability makes his eyes shine. You can sense the charge in the air like he might just run right now.

“Every time,” he admits. “Didn’t think you’d let me back in every time, but I couldn’t stop myself from trying. Knew you wanted me too.” You scoff at that. Amused at his approach. You see his shoulders tense before he lets your disapproval roll off of him. “Convinced myself, it was fine, or you’d stop answerin’ the door. Thought it’d be easier–”

“If I did your dirty work for you?” you accuse sharply. “If it was my responsibility to hold you accountable?”

“Thought it’d be easier if you hated me, I guess,” he runs his hand over the back of his neck. You stop seeing red and take him in. He smells fresh, like some over-fragranced body wash, his nearly dry hair brushed back. You hate how you feel the urge to soften just at the sight of him. “Figured you’d move on,” he rumbles.

“Didn’t seem like you wanted me to move on when you crashed my date.”

“It wasn’t my plan,” he mutters. Right. You raise your eyebrows. “You–you just drive me fuckin’ crazy. I don’t know why. But I can’t get you outta my fuckin’ head.”

That makes you smile. His confession willfully given on your front doorstep. In the daylight, without your body seducing his. You drive him crazy.

Dave’s car pulls up behind Joel’s truck. “Time’s up,” you say, “as much as I really enjoy this 90s romcom-style confession, and I really do, I’ve got a date, and I don’t like to keep my dates waiting.”

“Right,” Joel takes you in like he might never see you again, “he something serious?” he nods towards Dave’s car.

“Why, you planning to ask me out?” you’re not afraid to be direct anymore. Nothing to lose.

“Thought I’d just start with the apology.”

“Good.”

“You accept?”

You laugh loudly, full-chested. It’s a release, but it ends mockingly. “You’re gonna have to try harder than this to show you really mean it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nods, turning to leave. A wicked idea flashes through your mind as you watch him turn and look past him towards Dave, who is watching you intently.

“Wait,” you call out, and Joel spins immediately. “I’ll consider your apology tonight on one condition.” He waits to hear more, and your grin sends a shiver down his spine. He’s in for something, and if it’s anything close to what he deserves, it’s gonna hurt.

…………

You slide into your favorite corner booth, in between Dave and Joel. You admire them both in the dim light. You haven’t been able to keep the nefarious smirk off your face since you proposed your idea. Dave was an easy sell, just as you knew he would be, with minimal questions and clear on the role you wanted him to play. You weren’t surprised that Joel agreed, but you’re skeptical that he’ll be able to keep his cool.

“You’re coming with us,” you told him like it was a command, “you’re gonna watch, and you’re gonna prove to me that you can behave.”

He seems to keep it together through your date. He’s quiet, only accepting a drink when you tell him not to be weird. You know the jealousy is screaming beneath the surface. He does his best to rein it in, but when Dave taunts him with sly comments or touches you so freely, you catch his jaw tensing and his hands balling into tight fists, but he doesn’t say anything.

Dave exudes confidence and control. He relishes in the power dynamic and more so, in how you’re so turned on by having an audience. Dave’s eyes are sharp, catching all of Joel’s discomfort when you giggle when you share a story when he touches you, but worst of all, when you touch Dave. “Dirty girl,” Dave murmurs close to your ear, “you want to give your guest a show before we take him home?”

Your eyes are bright and shining when you smile at him. You give Joel a once over. He doesn’t look like he will flip the table or smash his fist through it. He glowers at Dave but softens for you, swallowing down the humiliation and washing it down with another drink.

“Yeah,” you turn back to Dave, “he can take it. What do you have in mind?”

“I think I dropped something under the table,” Dave’s low voice drips down your spine, and excitement buzzes in your core, “You think you can help me out?” You smile wide as the Cheshire cat before sinking beneath the table. It’s cramped and dark, but you’ve never been more grateful to Dave for reserving his favorite secluded corner spot.

You wiggle a bit brushing against Joel as you situate yourself between Dave’s legs. The table muffles more of the sound, blending their voices into the sound of the music. You can tell Dave is trying to continue a casual conversation with Joel, and you can tell Joel doesn’t respond with many words. You find it easy enough to tune them out altogether as you focus on your mission, opening Dave’s belt and working quickly to tug at his pants until you can free his thick cock.

Before you can get your mouth on it, Dave cups your jaw and grabs your attention, “Good girl,” he husks, matching your hungry gaze. “This what you want?” he asks as he grips the base of his cock and angles it towards you. You nod, wetting your lips in anticipation. “Do you want him to watch?” he asks, tilting his head towards Joel.

You smile again, “Yes.”

“Come closer,” he directs Joel, “she wants you to watch.” Joel shuffles over, scooting down the curved bench until he can see your face looking up at him.

“Shit, baby,” Joel hisses, shifting to adjust himself. You see the mix of emotions flickering across his face. You can’t help yourself from holding eye contact with Joel as you slide your tongue down Dave’s length. You keep your eyes on him as you begin to bob your head, taking his cock deeper into your mouth.

Having their eyes on you, has you squirming. The attention and the dynamics between the three of you has your heart in your cunt. The blazing jealousy in Joel’s eyes eggs you on, working sloppily to please Dave. You moan below them.

“Look at her,” Dave speaks calmly to Joel, only a hint of strain in his voice as he maintains his composure. “You think another woman could enjoy your cock this much? You think you could find a mouth better than this?”

“No,” Joel grits through clenched teeth.

“You think you deserve her?” Dave asks like it’s as meaningless as asking about the weather.

“No,” he grits again, his eyes shut tightly, waiting for something to pass, before he can continue watching you. You see the torment taking hold, lighting a fire within you that spurs you on. You break the eye contact to take Dave’s cock even deeper. He groans approvingly above you.

“That’s it,” Dave encourages you with his hand gently wrapping around the back of your head, “just like that, fuck.” He keeps watching you, but his next words are for Joel. “Tell her,” he says, drunk with pride and lust, “tell her what a good girl she is. Think she more than deserves to hear it.” You know your cunt is dripping between your legs at the intensity of your lewd behavior and the control Dave wields over the both of you so effortlessly.

You shift to watch Joel. He tempers the storm of his frustration and arousal to make sure it sounds honest. So you know he means it.

“That’s good, baby,” his voice is hoarse, and he clears his throat before continuing, “Such a good girl.” Your eyes nearly roll back. You didn’t think it could hit any harder than when Dave praises you, but hearing the words from Joel sends you to another plane. You melt before your determination is renewed, and you’re on a mission to make Dave come. He knows what you want, and his hips tilt, rocking into you as you swallow around him eagerly until he’s groaning again and pulsing against your tongue as he comes.

The men shift, and the three of you adjust and fix yourselves, respectively, as you return to your seat between them. You’re pleased with yourself but overtaken with the need throbbing in your cunt. You don’t miss Joel’s attempts to adjust himself and squash his own aching desire. It makes your lips curl with a hungry smile.

Dave pulls you towards him. You’re buzzing so tensely with anticipation that just his grip around your waist brings a whiny moan out of you. He chuckles darkly at your wrecked response. “So worked up just from that, aren’t you?” Dave teases. You hum in agreement, letting your senses be overwhelmed by the scent of both men and their warm bodies on either side of you. “Already soaked and ready to be filled with a cock, hm?”

“Yes,” you agree, closing your eyes and smiling dreamily.

“Tell me,” Dave murmurs with a dangerous edge.

“So wet,” you purr in agreement, but he laughs again. You open your eyes, confused.

“Was asking him,” Dave tilts your chin towards Joel. You thought your idea of having Joel watch would be punishment enough, but you weren’t prepared for how Dave’s filthy mind works a step ahead of yours. You pull Joel’s hand between your legs. “Check for me,” he orders.

Joel obeys. His fingers are quick to find your soaked underwear, and he easily dips them beneath the fabric into the pool of slick at your fluttering entrance. “Fuck,” you both curse at the sensation. It’s overwhelming, and you jerk at the intensity of being touched where your body wants contact the most.

“Fuckin’ soaked,” Joel confirms like it’s painful to say it, “needs it bad.” You think the latter might apply to both of you.

“You think you can make it all the way home, dirty girl?” Dave teases. You nod, but the whiny sound that comes from your throat as Joel removes his hand says otherwise. Dave considers your needs. “He’s only here to watch, hm?” he confirms. You nod mindlessly. “You think he’d make a nice seat for your ride home? Keep that empty hole full for you?”

“Oh, shit,” you feel your face heat at the idea, “yes.”

Joel’s more conflicted than he’s ever felt in his life. He was prepared to fight off his jealousy and tame his anger. He wasn’t prepared to watch you give Dave head in public or for how fucking hard he would get watching. But the most difficult thing to reckon with is the humiliation. More specifically, how every comment from either one of you that further salted his wound made his skin boil but also sent jolts of excitement through his nerves.

“You think you can keep it together?” Dave challenges Joel.

“Yes.”

………………

Joel regrets agreeing before you leave the parking lot, but you couldn’t pay him to go back in time and change his answer. He thought the worst of it was over once you finally settled on top of him, sinking painfully slowly down his cock until your ass was flush with his hips, but you can’t stay still. You tense and contract around him, nearly blinding Joel with the heat of your velvety soft walls choking his shaft. You lean forward, trying to get comfortable, and when the car bounces over a speed bump on the way out of the parking lot, you both groan with pleasure and frustration.

“You feel better?” Dave asks you as he navigates swiftly back to yours.

“So full,” you state, desperately fighting the urge to beg Joel to grab your hips and fuck you. You weren’t exactly exaggerating the last time you had sex with Joel when you said you missed his “big fat cock.” Every bump on the road has you biting back moans, and you squirm, trying to find a comfortable position.

“Please,” Joel’s low voice is strained and ragged, “quit moving.”

You should’ve had the foresight to realize this wasn’t a punishment for Joel. This was just going to weaken your resolve. You know the second he gets his hands on you, it’s useless. You’re his through and through. You thought you were still pissed off enough that he couldn’t get to you, that Dave’s presence would keep you on track.

Well, you didn’t really think about it at all. You just felt your knees go weak when, and your cunt do a flip when Dave made the suggestion. You need to make a mental note to show him just how much you appreciate his dirty mind when you get back home.

You can feel Joel’s growl rumbling through his chest and his thighs tensing beneath you. It’s a vicious cycle. Every sound he makes is like a call and response with your body. Your cunt denounces your orders to stay still and pulses rhythmically, trying to take Joel’s cock deeper on it’s own accord. His breath hitches, and you adjust.

“Baby,” he rasps, sounding wrecked, “I can’t–fuck–can’t do this if you’re gonna be a fuckin’ tease. His hands wrap around your hips, fingers digging harshly into your flesh in an attempt to keep you still, but the pressure makes you cry out softly.

“Is your chair complaining?” Dave mocks, and Joel’s cock tenses inside of you.

“I’m about to complain,” you try to snark, but it comes out needy instead.

“What do you need, dirty girl?” He asks sincerely. You know it’s not long to get home, but you can’t think straight with Joel’s cock so deep inside of you.

“Fuck, I…” you wiggle again, causing Joel to grunt behind you, and the noise makes your pussy flex, “I can’t,” you trail off, digging your nails into your palms, trying to steady yourself. You feel pathetic right now, unable to put together a sentence and barely able to keep yourself still.

“Hey,” Dave coos gently, seeing the pained expression on your face. “You decide what you want. Your rules. You want him to touch you?”

“Mmm,” you groan loudly with want, “please, please, please.”

Joel doesn’t hesitate, hands searching immediately and yanking you closer as he gropes at your body. The freedom to move gives him power over his urges, more control than either of you expected. His breath is hot against your neck before his voice, gravelly and dark, vibrates just behind your ear, “Missed hearing you beg for me.”

Your head lolls back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut and mouth hanging open. You moan in sync as his hands wrap around your body, slipping under the top and bottom of your dress at the same time. You’re pinned, back against his firm chest, as one hand pinches at your hard nipple and the other taps at your clit. Your body struggles in his strong arms, unable to bow at the overstimulation of his touch. All you can manage is to rut your hips into him.

“You desperate to come on my cock again, baby?” he goads you. Feeling confident now that he’s free to run his filthy mouth again. Feeling drunk on your needy noises and the way you writhe for him. He carries on teasing you in his Joel-specific way with his words and his fingers. It’s maddening, and you feel lit up, skin tingling as you’re at his mercy. You can only see blinding light, like you’re inside of a star, as you get closer and closer.

You’re too incapacitated to realize you’ve made it home, that the car has stopped moving, that Dave has turned to watch you. Joel continues to rasp filth into your ear, but your body spasms in response when Dave begins to encourage you. “That’s right,” Dave coaxes you, “take what you need.”

You do. Falling headfirst into the rush, broken, gasping, moans ringing through the car. The scent of sex swirling in the air. Your tension snaps, flooding with endorphins, and riding through the waves as you’re fully supported by Joel’s arms and body.

“Fuck,” Joel chokes out, biting down into the curve of your neck to stifle himself. Your cunt still weakly tries to milk his cock as your hips twitch and jerk while you ease back down from your orgasm. You can feel the mess you’ve made. Hot and sopping wet, dripping down Joel’s cock and making you slip against his thighs. You’ve never made such a mess before.

Joel shudders and tenses beneath you. Lifting you off of him with a familiar grunt. It’s his come leaking out of you. Your head swivels, “that wasn’t for you.” His cocky attitude from minutes earlier is gone; shame washes over him. His curls are no longer tamed like they were when he showed up at your door; one sticks to the sweat on his forehead. He breathes deeply, chest rising and falling, as he mouths a barely audible apology.

It’s twisted that it stirs your need to comfort him. Fuck it. You figure the whole evening has been wild enough so far. Plus, he can take some of the emotional whiplash this time. You’re tired of being the one with that look on your face. You can see the taunt dancing on Dave’s tongue; you know he’s ready to cut Joel with vicious words, but he holds them, waiting for your lead.

It’s an unbelievable position to be in. You aren’t used to feeling like you’ve got the upper hand in the power dynamic like this. Not with Joel. Not with two men that radiate dominance like it’s in their DNA. You’d like to savor the moment, but now that you’re not burning a horny fever, you realize how incredibly impractical it is to sit on top of such a large man inside of the car. You’re all gonna end up with neck cramps if you’re in here another minute.

Despite dying to know what Dave’s holding back, you have more mercy than him or Joel. Joel, who currently can’t look you in the eye as he stays uncomfortably rigid beneath you, well, except for his spent cock. The thought makes you snort weakly, amused at your own sense of humor.

You contort in Joel’s lap to kiss him softly on the cheek. “Chin up, Joel,” you lilt. “You can make it up to me. We’re not done yet,” you nod towards Dave who smirks darkly, “Unless you’ve changed your mind.” You open the door and hop out, leaving both men to watch you walk to the door. For the first time since you opened your door tonight, you’re alone long enough to let some nerves start to get to you.

Your dates don’t follow immediately. They take long enough that you start to spin out in your head. Are you insane for this whole idea? Did you really just crawl under a table to Dave in front of Joel? In public? What the fuck are they talking about without you? You’re impatient now, arms crossed, leaning against the door frame, letting the cool night air stream into your living room.

Then they’re striding towards you. Hungry eyes glinting. Both are intimidatingly gorgeous in their own ways. Dave exudes a slightly detached, effortless, authoritative swagger. It makes you feel special when he gives you his undivided attention. Joel is raw, slightly untethered like he’s always weary from warring with his own demons, but he still wields lethal power. They stalk towards you swiftly, catching your concern as they usher you towards your bedroom with more coordination than you expected.

The door closes behind you with a soft click, but the tension in the air is heavy, as if someone had slammed it shut. Your room feels smaller with the weight of the situation about to unfold. Dave’s presence behind you makes your pulse quicken; the head of his body and his signature scent surround you. Joel watches, leaning against the door, arms crossed, jaw set, determined restraint weighing on his features. Despite the distance between you, Joel’s presence feels all-consuming. You’re mesmerized by his figure. His arms look even bigger, crossed in front of him, his broad shoulders, his pouty bottom lip, his strong jaw. You feel possessed with the need to …bite him? But, you don’t move.

Dave’s fingers trace lightly down your spine as you continue to unabashedly ogle Joel, who stiffens at the sight of Dave’s hands slipping the straps of your dress over your shoulders. He’s unreadable, but the something simmering beneath the forced calm is contextually obvious. Joel’s trying to keep his cool; he doesn’t flinch, but he shifts, unable to remain still while he can only watch.

Katie always referred to the chair in your room you designated as laundry purgatory as the cuck chair. It was only a joke, but if it isn’t perfect now. You glide across the room, tossing the worn-once sweatshirts and denim into the laundry hamper for future you to sort, offering the seat to Joel. It’s comical how his presence seems so out of place on the thrifted antique parlor chair.

You giggle softly as you spin back toward Dave, eager to find out what his depraved mind is plotting for the rest of the night. Dave’s voice is a low hum as he welcomes you into his arms, “Let’s make sure Joel gets a good look at what he’s missing out on, hm?” You nod, letting Dave arrange you as he pleases. “Pay attention,” he orders Joel, “I’m doing you a favor.” You can hear the devious glee lurking beneath Dave’s controlled tone. Joel’s dark eyes spark with something fierce as they flick to Dave before landing back on you.

You can feel your pulse beating in your neck—and your cunt—as your chest heaves dramatically as Dave’s hands move over you. His touch is both tender and possessive as he makes a show of removing all of your clothes. It’s exaggerated to eat at Joel, but it works you up just the same. Dave pauses, letting his fingers hover over your nipples, brushing them just enough to make you shiver before kneading your soft tits, making you gasp.

“You see that?” Dave asks over your shoulder, addressing Joel. “She’s so needy already. All worked up again. How are you going to satisfy her if she needs my cock right after you make her come?”

You see Joel stiffen, gripping the arms of your chair like he might crush them. He’s still holding on to some semblance of composure, but it’s unraveling. You didn’t expect the dynamic between them to hit you straight in the pussy, but you’re dizzy, humming with anticipation.

“On the bed, greedy girl,” Dave instructs. You follow without question, crawling onto the mattress, your pulse pounding in your ears. Joel’s eyes are glued to you, devouring every inch of your bare skin. It’s impossible for you to look away from him. His struggle as he works so fucking hard not to show how much he wants you, even though it’s written all over his face, is driving you wild. His fingers twitch as if he’s resisting the urge to touch you, to take.

With your head still turned, locked onto the sight of Joel, your mouth parts in a soft gasp as Dave’s broad hands spread your legs wide, exposing your heated skin to the cool air in the room. You break away from your staring contest to catch the searing heat in Dave’s eyes before he lowers, pausing just before his lips brush against your swollen clit. He doesn’t ease the ache yet, lifting his head and turning to Joel with a smirk. “Come closer. You might learn something,” he challenges smugly.

You’d roll your eyes at his arrogance, but then he dives in, tongue sliding against your slick cunt with devastating precision. You can only dig your fingers into your sheets as you arch and moan in response to his expert rhythm. With your eyes squeezed shut and your breath coming in uneven, shallow pants, you relax into the sensation coursing through you.

“Tell him,” Dave hums into your skin, “Tell Joel how good it feels.”

Your eyes flutter open, meeting Joel’s gaze. The sight of him has you at a loss for words. His face is expressionless, but as always, his eyes betray him. Sharp, hungry, and barely containing the storm inside of him. “So… feels, fuck, feels so good.”

Joel’s chest rises and falls heavily. Dave’s taunts don’t hurt Joel’s pride, but watching you fall apart for another man twists his gut harshly. You’re so close he could count the beads of sweat forming on your chest. He can taste you and smell you, and it drives him wild. Like a beast, only held back by his hope to have a chance for more.

Dave chuckles against you, his breath teasing your clit before he wraps his lips around it, sucking hard. The pleasure slams through you, and you cry out, your hips jerking against his mouth. Every nerve ending alight with sensation. You can’t think, only feel.

“She’s so responsive,” Dave gloats.

Joel doesn’t acknowledge the comment. His composure is cracking, the frustration bubbling to the surface. You can see it in the way his jaw clenches, the way his eyes stay glued to the place where Dave’s mouth moves over you with expert ease.

But Dave isn’t done with either of you yet. He pulls back from between your legs, his fingers trailing over your slick skin as he moves to stand. His eyes are alight with that dangerous gleam that makes your heart race. “Let’s show Joel what a dirty girl you are for me.”

You’re eager to obey. “How do you want me?” Your voice is breathy and ragged already. It only crosses your mind now that you’re completely naked while they’re still fully dressed. You sit up, reaching for Dave’s belt before he’s answered you. He takes off his shirt while you work diligently to release his cock. “Look at her, Joel,” Dave taunts, his voice thick with pride and adoration for you. “She just wants to be fucked right.”

Joel swallows hard. The effort it takes to keep himself in check is wavering. He’s burning with the urge to claim you, to show you the meaning of being fucked right, to make you come so hard you forget Dave’s name. His ears ring, tuning Dave out completely, watching you adjust, lying back on your pillows, welcoming Dave between your legs.

Joel is transfixed. Watching as Dave positions himself between your legs and slides into you with an agonizingly slow thrust. Distantly, he can hear you moaning loudly; he can hear Dave continuing to goad him about how tight you are and how he gives you what you need or whatever else he thinks matters. All Joel can process is the sight of Dave’s cock disappearing inside of you. Over and over and over again.

A deep, nauseating wave of embarrassment sinks heavily into Joel’s stomach. You wanted to punish him? Like this? It’s too absurd to be a joke, to be a sick prank. It can’t be some kind of trap. You aren’t cruel like that. Worse. He’s trapped between his anger and arousal. Forced to watch as Dave takes you apart, piece by piece. Tortured by his own cock throbbing painfully in response to everything about you. He looks at your face and feels dismantled by your gaze. Hazy and sweet, you’re staring at him, wet lips parted as you gasp shallowly while Dave keeps up his pace.

Joel’s composure is slipping, his hands flexing before he gives in, trying to readjust. Hoping to find the slightest relief as he palms himself over his jeans. Your brows wrinkle with pleasure, and a breathy “oh, fuck,” slips out of you. Seeing Joel so turned on just from watching you sends you rolling into a warm, vision-blurring climax.

“I know,” Dave coos in your ear as you catch your breath, “I know.” He’s still murmuring against your neck, but it’s the silent exchange with Joel that makes you smile lazily. You think he figured it out, the power he has over you with just his expressions. That he’s the one that has you breathless. “Tell her,” Dave growls over you.

“Good girl,” Joel utters hoarsely, mouth dry. He sees the glow wash over you at his words, and it clicks. Finally. Whatever it is between you affects you just as much. His punishment isn’t watching someone else please you, wondering if they really can make you feel better than he can. Wondering if they’ll treat you better. If you’re better off without Joel at all. No.

It’s knowing they can’t. Knowing you’ve been just as empty without him as he’s been without you. That it’s been his fault. He’s made it worse. You’re all he can fuckin’ think about, and he’s in your head just the same.

And right now his punishment is to wait this night out. To be vulnerable and reveal the truth. The desperate desire he has for you. He’s pathetic with it, honestly. He’ll sit here all night, show you how hard you make him, tell you how badly he wants you, describe how perfect you are, anything. It starts to pour out of him as his jealousy and anger recede. “So good, baby, you look beautiful, like a dream,” Joel’s voice is filled with earnest wonder. You beam, your eyelids heavy with lust as Joel continues. “I want you so bad it hurts. You’ve got me losing my fuckin’ mind.”

“That’s a start,” Dave commends Joel before he shifts, pulling out and flipping you onto your hands and knees. You can hear Joel cursing under his breath as Dave kneads the plush curves of your ass, spreading you wide and showing off your glossy cunt. “You see that? Perfect, right?” He doesn’t wait for Joel to respond, focused on lining himself up and sliding back inside of you as deep as he can.

Dave groans along with you as he lights up every nerve within you, and your pussy contracts coaxing him deeper. He pauses when his hips meet your ass, filling you to the hilt before he wraps an arm around you to pull your back flush against his chest. “Look at him,” Dave tilts your head to be sure you can take in Joel’s wrecked expression. “You think he deserves to touch himself while I’m fucking you?” Dave asks, shifting his attention back to you, mischief twinkling in his eyes.

“No,” you reply, resolute. “He doesn’t deserve it. But I want to watch, so he will.” Dave’s grin widens, reveling in your direct nature. He lowers you, and you adjust, resting your cheek on your pillow so you can watch. “Please, Joel, let me see.” Your begging has the exact effect you wanted on Joel when you hear the throaty groan he makes.

You squirm involuntarily when you finally get a clear view of Joel’s cock, clenching tightly around Dave’s cock. He hums behind you, muttering about how you’re unreal, and he hopes Joel can handle a woman like you as he slowly drags himself almost completely out of you before snapping his hips brutally, slamming back into you.

You’re bewitched. The head of Joel’s cock glistens, weeping with precome, enticing, and menacing as his fist strokes slowly along his shaft. You’re salivating at the debauched scene and drenching Dave’s cock as he continues to slowly work you back up. The sounds of skin slapping against skin fill the room, mingling with your gasps and moans.

“You see that?” Dave asks you, “Look how desperate he is. You think he wants to come?”

“Yes,” you reply, “fuck, yes.”

“Ladies first, though, hm?” Dave muses as he picks up his pace, pushing you closer, finding the perfect angle that makes your mind go blank. The pressure builds inside you, and the louder you get, the more Joel starts to fall apart. Your flip between Joel’s eyes and his fist pumping his cock ravenously. For you. All for you.

That sends you over the edge, wringing all the pleasure out of you, taking Dave with you as he stills against you, cock pulsing hotly inside of you, as your limbs feel weak and you sink into the mattress. You watch as Joel spills over his knuckles, cursing and grunting as he comes, and it makes you giddy.

Dave kisses your shoulder tenderly, praising you quietly, just for you, before he gets up and, like clockwork, heads to the bathroom to clean up and get you a warm washcloth. You continue to grin loosely, giggling softly, still amused by how out of place Joel looks. You see the fear flit across his face, and a cold, nasty feeling rips through you as you brace for the worst. Cruel words spring up, ready to protect you, but you hold your tongue. You won’t guilt him into staying. You can’t choose for him.

It’s a painfully long minute. He doesn’t look at you. You try not to shut down. And then Dave is back, ever the gentleman, with warm washcloths for both of you. He checks in with you softly, “What do you need?”

The words stick in your throat. You sit up and force yourself to get them out. It’s barely above a whisper. “I need to talk to Joel.” He looks at you finally, as if you whispering his name snapped him out of a trance. Dave nods.

“You want me to stay?” Dave asks. You blink at him curiously. Neither of you do sleepovers. You don’t need a bodyguard. You must have it stamped across your forehead like a holiday package: fragile.

“No.”

He takes your word for it, redressing and heading out swiftly. Leaving you alone with Joel.

Unreadable Joel. With no clues in his eyes or his body language. His head follows you, watching as you cross the room to grab a shirt. You honestly wonder if he could disappear in the half a second your vision is obscured while you pull it over your head, but he’s still there. So, you gather your courage and face him head-on.

“Can we talk?”