#it's been several years and you've done just fine without one.

[bleu-oscar]

Stuff post!!! About me!

This is so late HOWEVER I will be putting things here anyways for clarification and also because you are my friend

My name is Oscar!!

My pronouns are He / They

I'm obsessed with: TMNT Invader Zim Moomins Hylics Scavengers Reign They're on rotation but my main gig is the turtles

This is mainly an art blog, but also a whatever blog because we stay silly.

I love asks and questions!! Pleaseee send fandom asks abt headcanons, random stuff, things that are cool, or my TMNT AU which has basically nothing going for it! If you send an ask about it you'll force me to make lore which is good for my health

love yuooo bye <3

[madamtrashbat]

When I was ten, we lived on a rice farm with a lot of big buildings in the middle of nowhere. One of the shitty employees of the rice farm decided that, because we had barn cats on the premises, it was perfectly fine to dump a litter of very small kittens into one of the barns.

(I hate her I hate her I hate her)

The kittens were not old enough to be on their own, and despite one of the barn cats looking after them, the majority of them did not make it. All except for one, a little tuxedo that let my dad pick it up.

He brought it into the house, and I decided I was going to nurse it back to health. He was mostly black with a white chin, little white toes, and a white belly. He was so small. I fell in love with him.

I named him Pookie.

He would curl up in the crook of my neck and sleep on my shoulder, where it was warm. He was eating the cat food I mushed up with water, and for three days I thought he might make it.

Then, inexplicably, our dog Fancy, a heeler/shepherd mix, attacked him in the laundry room. She had never done anything like that before and never did anything like that afterwards. I never knew why she did what she did.

I begged my parents to take him to the vet. Please, see if there's anything we can do. I want to save him so badly.

But we had very little money at the time, and my mom couldn't justify an enormous vet bill for a cat we'd had for less than a week that there was surely nothing to do for.

I put him in his basket that night with food and water and many blankets. He had no external injuries besides a nosebleed, so I hoped it wasn't as bad as it seemed.

He didn't see the morning. My dad buried him in the flowerbed without much ado.

I cried for two days into the arms of an unsympathetic mother who didn't understand why I felt so strongly over a cat we'd had for three days, bombarded with criticism from a judgmental sister who severely disliked cats. My dad did his best to try and comfort me, but he's not the best with emotions and didn't know what to say.

It has stuck with me for 20 years. I wonder, from time to time, if I did enough. If I'd kept him in my room instead of the laundry room, if I'd looked up how to care for him, if I'd kept closer watch on him and kept the dog away from him, would he have lived. Would he still have been my cat. Would he have known a life of love and warm fireplaces and full bellies and cuddling into my shoulders until he was too big to fit.

I'll never know.

I told Sawyer about this recently, in a moment of emotional upheaval where I was just spewing out a list of things that had happened in my past that I'd never really gotten over. The conviction of my sadness apparently struck a deep chord with Sawyer, who decided to make me a memorial for Pookie to keep his memory close.

No one else had taken my emotions regarding Pookie seriously. Not until now. And not only did Sawyer take it seriously, the emotional vomit of an adult woman still crying over a cat she had for three days in fifth grade, but Sawyer thought it important enough that it should never be forgotten.

It's nice, sometimes, to know the person you've chosen to go through life with is the best person in the world for you.

[fictionalsweethearts]

THE COMMISSION PT. 3 | SEVIKA X READER | ARCANE

'The Commission' series: pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt.4, epilogue.

Synopsis: You've been her personal mechanic for two years, but your growing reputation in the field has earned you dozens of clients and commissions. Sevika was looking for something fresh, durable and of good quality, and when it came to her sexual appetite, she only accepted the best. So she turned to you for a special commission.

Contains: arcane!sevika, feminine reader, lesbians, lots of dialogues, arcane universe, cannon sevika, mechanic!reader, wlw, slow burn baby 💋, several parts btw

Word count: 4,345

Note: English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistake in my writing. Enjoy!

After that episode, Sevika stopped your supply of Shimmer and threatened any dealers that she would rip out their tongues and eyes if they dared to sell you, so the following week you found yourself in enforced sobriety.

You were adding the finishing touches to the strap, Sevika wanted it to be comfortable and aesthetically pleasing, so that was what you did. The straps were made of fine leather, secured with adjustable snaps. However, it was the long, veiny phallus that was the star of the piece, provided with texture and a purple color, quite similar to Shimmer. On the back, there was a small compartment with the dose of Shimmer, interconnected with the rest of the piece and the wearer, making the strap a dynamic, vibrant piece and certainly better than any other made of plastic or silicone. This one was “alive” so to speak, and designed so that the thrusts would release small bursts of Shimmer into the wearer’s bloodstream, causing as much pleasure as the one receiving it. One of your best pieces, you put a lot of pride into it and it cost you two sleepless nights and delaying other orders to give this one your full attention.

You made your way through the crowd. For a couple of weeks now, The Last Drop has been more crowded, the good sales of shimmer and the economic bonanza it brought made people look for a place to dance, drink more and bet their money in games that Sevika usually won.

Sevika.

You saw her at the back of the club, just like a few weeks ago when you went to her to check her arm and receive the commission you now had ready and kept in a box. She was focused on her cards, a cigarette between her lips and a couple of opponents with pursed lips sitting before her.

"Am I bothering?" you asked once you approached.

"Silco isn't taking guests." she muttered, without taking her eyes off the cards.

"I'm not here to see Silco." you said with a smirk before Sevika realized it was you.

She looked you up and down, taking in your appearance. You looked… good. Rested, healthy, and more beautiful than ever. It was a striking difference from the last time she had seen you, and it made her feel more confident than ever about her decision to take away your Shimmer supply.

"Well, hello yourself." she said, raising a brow. "What do I owe the pleasure?"

"Merry early Christmas." you teased, placing the box on the table. "Commission done."

She smiled, taking one last glance at her cards before folding and placing them face down. Her opponents grumbled as they laid down their own and counted up their chips, which Sevika quickly started sliding towards her. She picked up the box, feeling the weight of it in her hands. "Finally. Took you long enough."

"Quality takes time." you smirked, leaning to take a sip of Sevika's glass. The woman lifted the lid to peek inside, knowing she had to take a better look of the product in private.

"Continue without me, boys." Sevika said, quitting the game in order to stand up and head to her office with you.

The other players grumbled in annoyance as Sevika stood up, but their protests died out as Sevika glowered at them.

"If I come back and see you've touched my chips, I'll make sure you lose a few fingers." Sevika warned, her voice dripping with malice.

They entered a dimly lit office, the smell of wood and tobacco welcoming you as soon as you set foot inside. There was a coffee table in the center, on it a bottle of whiskey and a couple of glasses, in front of it a vermilion sofa darkened by age and the ashes of hundreds of cigarettes. The office was undeniably Sevika's, she was a sober woman and the room showed it, however you always liked the small jar painted in gold and blue paint, which used to keep mint candies for the breath. The truth is that you tended to eat them yourself and force Sevika to buy more.

"How is Silas?" you asked as you entered, following Sevika. "Did his dick fall off?"

"No, but it's probably the only thing still functional about him." She replied, shutting the door behind her.

She walked over to the coffee table, dropping the box on it before turning her attention to the bottle of whiskey. She poured two glasses before passing one to you.

"Here." She said. "You look like you could use a drink."

"Indeed." you agreed, taking the glass between your fingers. "Booze seems an alternative, since someone put me on forced sobriety."

“Yeah, I’m not sorry about that.” She muttered, taking a sip of her drink. “You were out of control.”

She walked over to the sofa, taking a seat and gesturing for you to do the same. “Now, though,” she said, her voice a hint softer, “you do look better, I have to admit.”

"I look tired." you grumbled. "You know how hard is to work sober? I can't barely make the half of orders I used to finish in a day."

"You look gorgeous when you're tired." She observed, her voice low and full of innuendo. She took another sip from her drink, leaning back into the sofa. "And as for your orders, I don't care if you have to hire a damn army to finish them. You're not touching Shimmer again until I say so."

Sevika changed the subject so quickly that you couldn't comment on her casual compliment. Her eyes didn't betray the way she looked at you, nor the thoughts that had been running through her mind since she asked you for such a commission. She was sweet on you but her demeanor masked it well. "The workshop's rent is getting higher by the month." you said then. "I cannot afford working any less."

"I'll cover the rent," she offered, her voice gruff. "You just focus on your work."

The speed with which she resolved the issue struck you as comical, Sevika seemed convinced enough of the quality of your work to become your financier. You huffed. "Are you into charity now?"

"Charity? Hardly." She replied, her voice dry. "I prefer to think of it as an investment. You're an investment."

She paused to look at you, the way you traced the rim of the glass with your finger, your exposed shoulders, the softness of your neck, your cheekbones visibly more flushed with sobriety. She let out a sigh. "Besides, you owe me."

"Owe you?" you asked.

She couldn't contain a smirk. "For one," she started. "You're sitting in my office, drinking my booze, and you've still yet to even show me the commission I asked for. That's one reason."

She leaned forward, her gaze steady on you. "Two, you've been sleeping and eating in my club for weeks now. You think those things come free?"

Funny. Nothing's free when it comes to Sevika. She believed in the power of trades, of taking advantage of people’s qualities in an honest and effective way. You couldn’t deny that you’d turned to Sevika more times than you’d care to admit, whether it was to get another dose of Shimmer, sleep somewhere other than the workshop, and even sneak into her office and eat her snacks while she was minding her business at the brothel. Not to mention that she was now offering to pay your rent. You owed Sevika, whether you liked it or not. Your silence was your answer.

She leaned back into the sofa again, her expression smug. "That's what I thought." She muttered, taking another sip from her drink. "You're in my debt, dollface. And sooner or later, I'm going to collect."

She put the glass down, her eyes flickering to the box. "Now, are you gonna show me my commission?"

You sat up on the couch and nodded, Sevika's words not to be ignored. "Sure." you said, leaning over to carefully open the cherry-colored box you had brought for her. You lifted the lid and carefully placed the product on the table, unwrapping it.

Sevika couldn't help the way her eyebrow rose, her eyes studying the piece intently before a grin played on her dark lips. What a piece. "Damn." She muttered, her voice low with appreciation. Her hand hovered over the item, the tips of her fingers carefully tracing the leather straps, the velvety texture of the phallus.

"Is the color alright?"

Sevika took the strap, running her fingers over the texture and feel of its components, her eyes taking in the small Shimmer compartment in the back, the neatness of the finishes, even the light, comfortable weight. "Yeah. This is... better than I imagined." She admitted, her eyes flickering to you.

"Just make sure to not overdo it." you warned her, watching the woman testing the weight, the lightness of the piece and the exceptional quality of the materials. She seemed pleased, even though her face was inaccessible when it came to expressions. "It releases small doses of Shimmer, make sure to not wear it for too long."

"Oh, I'll definitely be testing the limits of this thing." She replied, her voice thick with innuendo. "I know when to stop."

"Just don't overdose." you mumbled, leaning back on the couch as Sevika stored the strap back into the box.

"I'm a big girl. I know how to handle myself." she insisted, taking a sip of the glass as her mind began going to places. The potential was massive.

You let out a sigh, you were sober and tired, the smell of the workshop clinging to your overalls and your hands still stained with oil and ink, which seemed to acquire the status of tattoos since they didn't seem to come off with any washing. You finished the glass, Sevika got up to search through her desk for the second half of your pay. She came back, holding out the the pouch. "Here." She said. "All yours."

You accepted the money willingly, thinking you would spend it on something stupid right away. You weren't good with finances, it's an understatement to say that if Sevika didn't manage your expenses regarding materials, machinery and labor, your business would go to hell overnight. She was always behind, watching over you and your lack of common sense when you had a bag full of coins. "I'll make sure to use them wisely."

"Oh, that's what you always say." She teased in return, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "And then what do you do instead? Gamble it all away at the fight pits, I suppose?" She knew better than to trust you with money. You'd always been as reliable as a leaky ship, especially when you were hopped up on Shimmer.

"I make good bets." you replied. "But the fighters are getting lame lately."

She crossed her arms across her chest, her expression mocking. "You always pick the ones who look good but have no chance of winning. You always bet on the long shots, and you always lose."

You laughed, because you did tend to bet on the best looking boxer rather than the most skilled. You were a simple girl, you liked to drink in the sweaty bodies of the fighters in the Pit, men or women, releasing adrenaline charges with every punch, spitting and gasping. You found pleasure in premeditated violence, in the cheers and the boos, in the heat of a crowd committed to the spectacle. And perhaps it was because of that bad habit of yours that you bet on Vi last week, and Sevika didn’t take it well.

She huffed, her voice terse. "You picked Vi because she was hot, didn't you?"

"I picked her cause you despise her."

"Damn right, I do." She muttered through gritted teeth. "And you should too. Do you have any idea how many of my thugs she's beat up? Or the crap she caused Silco when she was in Piltover? That woman's always been a pain in my ass."

"You have a thing for problematic women." you shrugged, leaning to pour yourself more whiskey. "The difference is that some you hate, others you keep close."

Sevika rolled her eyes, craving a cigarette to deal with your tongue and insolent smile. "Causes involve problems." she said.

"And you seem to love both." you said.

"Oh, great." She muttered. "Another smartass back talker in my life... Just what I needed."

"Who's the other?"

"Jinx."

Her sigh said it all, Sevika was tired and her patience threatened to falter. Silco was her leader, she championed the cause, Zaun, yet Jinx figured as the constant component ruining her formula. You can't be a good soldier with a leader who is unable to see the flaws of his daughter, or at least, how he sees Jinx. "Sounds like you need to get something off your chest." you said.

She huffed. "I could write an encyclopaedia about everything wrong with that girl." She paused for a moment, her expression hardening once again. "She's Silco's blind spot. He can't see her for what she really is because he's too damn soft on her. And it's getting to the point where we can't cover for her anymore."

"He loves her." you said. "We all act like fools when it comes to love."

"What a joke. He's blinded by his affection for her. He's been babying her for years, giving her everything she wants and then some. And look where it's gotten us? The entire damn city is on the brink of a war because of her, because Silco can't bring himself to step away from his goddamn daughter and see her for what she really is."

Hell, she was mad. You put the glass on the coffee table, watching Sevika retrieve a cigarette from the pack in her pocket. Before she noticed, you were before her, lighting up with your zippo. "Jinx is a part of the game, want it or not. And it's up to you if you wanna keep up with Silco's whims or give up."

Her grey eyes locked on yours, releasing the smoke to the side.

"I'm loyal to Silco. I always have been, and I always will be. I believe in his cause, in his vision for Zaun." She stated. There was not a single hint of doubt on her words; when Sevika commits with a cause, she carries it to the end, no matter what.

That's what you admired of her.

"Then..." you said, grinning. "You need to let off some steam." your eyes flickering to the box on the coffee table.

Sevika thought you were joking. "You suggest I should take a stroll to the brothel while you stay here alone, a room away from the Shimmer reserves Silco keeps here?"

"I'll behave." you insisted.

"You better." She warned. "I don't know how Silco would feel if he came back to his supplies all gone because you had a goddamn party in his absence."

You smiled. "If I wanted to get high, I'd do it with my own money and merit, trust me." you stepped back, walking over to the couch. "It's up to you, Sev. But if I were you, I would go and try my new toy right away."

Sevika rolled her eyes.

"Dammit," she growled. "I can't believe I'm seriously considering this..."

Seeing you settle down on the couch, half drunk from the whiskey, Sevika actually considered taking a stroll around the brothel. She needed to release a pressure that only increased every time you were in front of her, with your stupid jokes and your arms and chest exposed, with your playful eyes and your insolent smile. You were a limit she forced herself to not cross. The woman grunted, picking up the red cape from the coat rack and putting it on.

"Take a bath while I'm gone, you smell like a workshop." she muttered, taking the box from the table

"Excuse me?" you protested, your expression one of mock-offence. "I smell just fine."

Sevika huffed a laugh at your protest, her eyes flickering over your figure. She had to admit she kind of enjoyed the way you smelt. A subtle yet intense medley of oil, grease and sweat - it was almost seductive.

"Don't pretend like I don't know the last time you took a bath was three days ago." She shot back, her voice full of sarcasm. "You smell like you live at a damn workshop."

Now you were offended. "I do live in a damn workshop."

"Don't make it obvious, then." she said, walking over the door. "I ain't paying your rent for you to smell like that. Bath." she added, leaving the room as she didn't just called you dirty.

At the slam of the door, you couldn't help but bury your nose in your armpit, letting out a groan. "Bath, yeah right," you muttered, getting up to grab one of Sevika's treats. "Next time I'll put less oil on that arm of hers…"

Sevika left the office with heavy steps, riled up by your entire presence. She was playing a dangerous game but she didn't intend to lose, not when you had become her most precious jewel but also the hardest to obtain. She wanted to possess you, in more ways than one, but she knew your limits and your whims, getting involved with you would not only be risky but directly novice to her plans. Letting you slip into her her will would only destroy the mettle she took years to build. She had to control herself.

Several glances fell upon Sevika as she entered The House of Pleasure, she hadn't been seen around these parts for weeks, and more than one of the ladies-in-waiting approached her doors hoping to be chosen by her. She was a client who paid well and made love well, there were no cons on her visits. "With Robin." the woman murmured to the owner, before being led to the largest room in the brothel.

Robin was waiting for her on the couch, wrapped in an olive-colored robe, playing with her black locks and looking as willing as ever. Sevika liked her, she had freckles and fleshy curves, she knew how to combat her bad mood.

"Sevika," the woman purred, standing up. "Long time no see. I missed you around here"

"Missing my attention or my money?" she huffed.

"Money lost importance a long time ago." she smiled, standing on her tiptoes to place a kiss on her client’s cheek before carefully removing her cape, revealing her mechanic arm. Sevika liked to be welcomed with a cigarette and Robin’s sweet perfume, to sit on the couch, manspreading, inhaling the smoke with her on her lap, giving her kisses on her neck and jaw.

However, Sevika saw you standing by the curtain, like an insistent ghost, reminding her that the woman on top her was not you. "What's in the box?" asked Robin then, leaving a kiss on the corner of Sevika's lips, her eyes flckering to the box sitting on the coffee table.

"A new toy." She muttered, her voice gruff.

Robin smiled. "You'd like us to try it?" she asked.

Sevika stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray that rested to her right, cupping the back of Robin's neck to begin a kiss that she hoped would erase you from her mind for a while. "Yeah." she said, against her lips, her hand gripping firmly the hooker's butt.

Sevika knew she was being foolish, that she was using Robin as a replacement for you, but she couldn't bring herself to care. The woman's moans, the feel of her body in her lap, it was all so familiar yet so different. She broke the kiss, her breathing ragged as she looked up at Robin with darkened eyes. "Get the toy.

Robin was helpful and elegant, she knew how to deliver an erotic show on each visit and please Sevika. She had already become accustomed to the rhythm and endurance of her client, her firm hands, her obscene kisses and subtle and not so subtle bites. The hooker opened the box, her smile was not faked when she saw the quality of the piece.

"Robe off, doll." said Sevika, her legs spreading with a latent confidence. Robin approached, an arm around her waist as Sevika pulled her closer. "You'll keep up with me, don't you?"

"Always..." whispered Robin, as Sevika watched the woman undress before her, trying to ignore the picture of your smile on the back of her mind.

Third round, Sevika seemed to hate you more and more as she discovered that the piece you had made for her was sensational.

Each thrust released a small charge of Shimmer, taking Sevika on a roller coaster of sensations, a constant upward slope that did nothing but shake her nerve fibers from head to toe. She had Robin on her stomach on the bed, hips and ass up, one hand firmly in her hair, another on her hip, as she thrusted into her relentlesslty, growling against the back of her neck in an obscene and not at all concealable symphony; the entire brothel knew that Sevika was back.

She had you to thank for this, you and your damn ingenuity. She would never admit it aloud, but gods how she hated you for this. For making her feel something, for making her lose control.

She knew she wouldn't survive another round as she leaned down, her breath ragged and hot in Robin's ear. "I might have... to take you home sometime."

"I'll go anywhere, as long as you fuck me this good." Robin purred, her body melting as Sevika leaned down to place kisses and bites on her shoulder. Sevika refused to open her eyes, she wanted to imagine you beneath her, your smell, your moans, your legs shaking with pleasure and begging for more. She held the woman's neck between her fingers, pressing her hips hard as a tickling sensation settled in her lower belly. Fuck, this was so good.

She felt herself melting, her veins burning, her heart pounding. Robin could see the purple glow in her client's eyes, they had grown deeper throughout rounds, and certainly her strength too. "I want you... so bad." She breathed, her voice gruff and breathless as she began speaking out her thoughts. "But I can't... fucking have."

"Shit... I-'m... cumming." whined Robin, which Sevika straightened up and pulled Robin's back against her chest, choking her harder with every deep, nerve-shaking thrust.

"Shut up," Sevika snapped, her voice guttural and her eyes still tightly shut. She didn't want to hear anyone's name but yours, any voice but yours. She wanted you beneath her, begging and pleading for more.

Sevika growled, her forehead suddenly resting against Robin's back, a firm hand between her legs, rubbing her clit as her brain corrected her moans and made them yours.

Gosh, she almost could smell the goddamn oil and ink.

The Shimmer was beginning to take over her wits, her veins heating up, her breath coming out in loud gasps as a second orgasm began to take over her. And Robin wouldn't shut her mouth, goddamn it!

"Shut. The fuck. Up." Sevika growled, covering Robin's mouth with her flesh hand. The woman whined against her palm, panting at the same time Sevika moaned into her neck, enjoying an unprecedented orgasm. "Fuck...! Take it well and nicely." she whispered against Robin's ear.

Robin fell back onto the mattress, her body marked by dozens of bites, a hand on her buttock, a hickey on her neck. Sevika was the only client who could afford to mark her girls, and Robin accepted it willingly. But today she had gone too far.

Sevika let out a pant, sitting up in bed, dizzy and shaky, as if she had run across all of Zaun. Her flesh hand trembled, she was a round away from overdose, she knew it. She took the strap off and tossed it somewhere in the room before searching for a cigarette on the nightstand. Just the bitter taste of the smoke managed to calm her down and return her from that portal she refused to cross.

"Something's up with you." mumbled Robin, barely catching her breath as she reached out to wet her throat with a glass of water.

Sevika sat on the couch, her cinnamon skin lightly beaded with sweat. Her entire body was still alert, sensitive and active, from her erect nipples to the thickened veins on her arm. The Shimmer was not quick to digest. "Nothing's up." she mumbled.

Robin propped on her elbow, reading Sevika's expression. She knew that one, has seen it on other clients, but it was the first time she saw it on Sevika's face; the expression of frustrated passion. "There is someone, isn't there?"

Sevika dragged on the cigarette, her eyes darting around the room before landing on the strap. Damn you. "Yeah, there's someone."

Robin's eyes softened. "Who...?" she asked softly.

"It doesn't matter," she muttered quietly, avoiding eye contact. "She's...off-limits."

As Robin was about to ask for details, there was a knock at the door. The hooker put on her robe, taking heavy steps towards the door after having dealt with Sevika's stamina for two hours. Sevika let out a cloud of smoke, pulling her head back as she thought about you, and a bitter sensation pooled on her stomach.

I'm wasting my damn time.

When Sevika had already put on her boxers, Robin turned to look at her, her expression suggesting urgency. She frowned. "What is it?"

"It's a message from the Last Drop," Robin said. "A girl overdosed in your office."

Suddenly the Shimmer effect seemed to be heightened, but it was actually raw, pure adrenaline.

No.

Sevika jumped off the couch, looking for her clothes as Robin stood there. "Sev?" she asked worried.

"Get me my damn cape," she said. "I gotta go."

To be continued...

taglist: @lez-zuha @amoraeu @nikaachuuuu @furrytaesss @elliecoochieeater @n-noctiss @emmanetalias @sevikashairbrush @lipglosskxsses @chaosfieldflower @kairuvhen @moodient @izzy120 @bonemarrowstew @abbysunderwear @batman-2 @karmalovessimonriley @fandomsinthegalaxies @fudosl @femme-historian @poprostuhybryda-blog @kifuqe @xblinkx2 @tamikahoshiko @lia-winther @https-mika

[haologram]

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."

haologram © 2024 || no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

[literaila]

jealousy

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: satoru doesn't like the way the barista is looking at you

a/n: figured i'd give you all a little fluff (save me from this void)

last part | next part

*

year five.

“megumi, go get your mom.” 

satoru and megumi are sitting in a crowded cafe, saving your spot, waiting for you to come back. 

while the sun coming in through the window satoru is sitting across from is partially blinding him, he can still see you. 

you, trying to order, being ogled by the barista who's been granted the pleasure of speaking to you. your smile is normal--to satoru's obvious disdain--and you don't even seem to mind the man's obvious flirting. 

(not that it really means much. when satoru leans in like that, you just push him away. when he swoons at the way you've done your hair on any specific day, you just roll your eyes. 

so maybe you're not the best judge of flirting. or attraction. or how to reject a tiny schoolboy, like the one you're talking to.)

satoru's only been watching this interaction for thirty seconds, but he's had enough. 

“why?” megumi turns, looking back at you. “she’s getting us hot chocolate.” 

satoru sighs, no care in the world. can't the kid ever listen to him? “go hold her hand then.” 

“why?” 

“because.” 

“but why?” 

satoru gives megumi a (pathetic) glare. “listen to me, young man," he tries to say it like you would--if megumi ever denied any of your requests--but it doesn't work. satoru has to try not to laugh directly after the words are out of his mouth. 

so what if he doesn't want you talking to that kid? he's just looking out for you. 

megumi's brows raise. he looks... almost amused. “what’s wrong with you? you go hold her hand.” 

satoru hangs his head. you told him to sit here and keep the table for all of you, told him to watch megumi and not do anything stupid--which, to be fair, is difficult for him. so he can't go get you (save you).

and plus, he doesn't want you to know that he cares. if you like that kid--with his stupid dark hair and eyes and soft smile and obvious heart eyes--then he doesn't want to know. 

and if he goes up to you, he'll know. 

“i can’t," he tells megumi, instead of saying any of that. the boy would just cackle in his face. 

“are you scared?” megumi asks, very seriously, as if satoru is afraid of anything. 

(besides you falling for someone else, of course. but that doesn't count). 

he looks over to the kid again, who you're chatting idly with as you search through your purse. he wonders if you're telling the barista that you spend every night in his bed, making out with him until your lips are puffy. 

if he keeps smiling at you like that satoru is going to get up and tell him himself. 

satoru scoffs, looking away finally, back to megumi who looks thoroughly entertained by his father's pain. he crosses his arms. “no.” 

megumi shrugs, looking back again. seriously, satoru should've kicked him out when he had the chance. he probably would've been fine with the zenin clan. probably. 

“well, i’m not doing it," the boy says, with obvious satisfaction. 

if only tsumiki was here. satoru never should've let megumi ditch school, or let him come with you both to get coffee. tsumiki would help him. she probably would've asked you to get yakitori instead and satoru could listen to you try to make small talk with a waitress instead of that guy. 

“megumi fushiguro,” satoru begins, voice rough. “do you want your mother to live in a rat-infested apartment with a random, cesspit man, and several tiny babies running around all of the time? tiny wimpy babies? normal, human babies. you’ll have to stay over there and share a bed with multiple infants who will spit up on you.”

megumi blinks. “what are you even talking about?” 

“go stand next to her," satoru hisses, because he swears he can hear your laugh from across the cafe, and honestly he's never wanted to destroy an establishment more. 

and that's saying something. 

at least the man would be without a job and satoru would never have to see him push his hair back and tilt his head at you again. 

megumi looks back again like it's going to explain anything satoru does, and he smirks. “that guy doesn’t look too bad.” 

satoru's jaw clenches. “i will mismatch all of your socks.” 

megumi scowls at him. "all of my socks are the same, after last time." 

satoru huffs and leans back against his chair, pouting. "what did i do to deserve this?"

“do you think mom likes him?” megumi asks, voice so innocent it makes satoru want to shave his hair off. 

“go.” 

megumi blinks at him, tilting his head. yeah, he's really putting on an act now. “but she said to wait here," he reminds satoru like it matters. 

“tell her you missed her, or something," satoru goes to wave a hand, but his hand only clenches when he physically sees you laugh at the man. you're not even ordering now, you're just standing there (waiting for their drinks) talking to the guy. 

“you tell her you missed her," megumi retorts, enjoying satoru's one and only weakness. 

"no." 

"she's laughing," megumi points out, resting his chin on a hand. "and it's rude to interrupt grown-ups when they talk."  

“megumi,” satoru begs, hating the weird, annoying feeling in his chest. he wants to dig his own heart out and yell at it. “please.” 

megumi is basically smirking at him now, waiting for a beat longer for satoru to really break--and seriously kill every person within a ten-mile radius--but eventually, right before it happens, the boy sighs. his eyes are evil, evil things. 

"fine," he tells satoru, rolling his eyes. he stands up from his hair and pats satoru on the shoulder like it will make up for anything. the boy has the worst smile satoru's ever seen in his life. 

and then he makes his way through the line of people--seriously, this guy is a terrible barista--and taps you on your waist, going to stand right up against the counter. megumi says something to you--you will all of your charm, and your irresistible smiles--and you hold a hand out to him, which he grabs immediately. 

your smile, satoru notices with immense relief, shifts on instinct. it goes from something formal and polite to something genuine. you look down at your son and the barista you've been talking to for the last minute is completely irrelevant. 

and satoru takes great satisfaction in the way the kid's eyes widen, and the instinctual step back he takes--like he knows that satoru is going to hurt him if he continues to lean over the counter towards you. 

satoru relaxes, watching you ask megumi something, but only slightly. 

and after a second you turn your head, raising a brow at him. 

the little brat. 

satoru just smiles--offering you more than some shotty barista ever could--and leans back in his chair. 

* 

“why are you being so weird today?” 

satoru’s chin is on your head, and even though you can’t see his smile, it falters, just a little bit. "don't know what you're talking about." 

"you're sticky." 

"i just showered." 

"okay," you say, turning and rolling your eyes at satoru's pout. instantly his hands go to your waist, keeping you right there with him. "first of all, no you didn't. and i didn't mean literally. you're... clingy. more clingy than usual." 

"i can't want to be around you?"

you give him a blank stare. "not when you're being weird about it." 

"how am i being weird?" 

"how aren't you?" 

satoru grins, leaning his head down to push his nose into your cheek. you smell like something sweet--something he'd devour in an instant--but he's not sure what. he doesn't even care. he doesn't answer that question, only hums into your skin. 

"see what i mean?" 

"it's not my fault that you're comfy." 

"oh, im so sorry," you say, fake pity in your voice. "let me just turn myself into stone real quick." 

satoru rolls his eyes, pulling back just so he can see the amused look on your face--yeah, he knows that you don't actually care. but the more he hangs onto you, the more affection he shows, the warier you get. 

and that's perfectly fine with him, actually. as long as you don't push him away.  

"please do," he says, so genuinely. "it would make this a lot easier." 

"make what a lot easier?" you ask, voice a bit softer. maybe it's because he's looking at you now, actually looking. 

and satoru knows, really knows, that there's not a single other person in the world who you look at like this. there's not another man that you'd let sniff you, no other man that would dare to irritate you the way that he loves to. 

satoru's worked several years to get you to be this comfortable, this easy around him. and even if there was someone else--he wouldn't give you up without a fight. 

you're his in a way that transcends labels or reality.

still, he doesn't answer that question (because you already know). he only smiles a bit more, leans in, and basks in the way your lips mold to his immediately. 

*

next part | series masterlist

[prael]

Day 9: Subservience

TripleS Jiwoo x male reader smut

words: 3,980 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

"I've known the owner for years. She's really kind and she always gives me extra," Jiwoo explains as she guides you, hand-in-hand, down the street to the ice-cream shop that she swears is the best in the country. You don't question her, she knows what's good and she knows your tastes. You do struggle to keep up with the strides of her long legs. She's still fuelled by annoyance.

The game against the Eagles was a rough one. There were several fights, some more physical than others, but all were fueled by the rivalry. Jiwoo's game ended when she slammed one of the Eagles' players into the boards. It was a rough hit, enough for the ref to throw her out of the game, and you can't blame her. It was a dirty hit. But Jiwoo had been riled up by a series of fouls that the ref hadn't seen. So she reacted, and the player took advantage.

As soon as you step into the shop, Jiwoo visibly relaxes. A warm smile takes over her features that widens once the owner steps out from the back. "Jiwoo! How have you been, sweetie?" the woman gushes as she rounds the counter.

"I'm well," Jiwoo smiles. "And yourself?"

"Always busy!" the woman chuckles. "The business is doing very well." You see Jiwoo's hand tense as it holds your hand tighter. "What are you having today?"

"The usual, we'll share." Jiwoo orders without asking you.

"And who is this fine young man?"

You open your mouth to speak but Jiwoo is already talking before any sound can leave you. She introduces you—first by name and then as her boyfriend, her best friend. It makes your heart swell to hear her speak so highly about you.

You wait for the ice cream to be done, listening in as Jiwoo makes small talk with the shop owner. She seems happy to hear about the great games Jiwoo is playing and asks if next time she can bring some pictures for the bulletin board above one of the booths. It's cute to see her talk so excitedly about her games and everything she does on the team.

Finally, she asks the two of you to take a seat before promising to be over in just a minute. Jiwoo leads the way and slides into a booth in the corner. You sit down opposite her just as the ice cream and a couple of spoons slide into your view.

"Alright you two, enjoy!" the shop-owner exclaims before leaving you alone again. You both mutter your thanks, taking your spoons.

"Thanks," you say after Jiwoo takes a mouthful. "For bringing me out here." She looks up from her spoon and laughs.

"You haven't even tried it yet, here." She takes a spoonful and reaches out to you, pushing the spoon between your lips.

She is right, of course, the ice cream is good. "Really, really good." She smiles in contentment at the compliment of her choice, reaching over to scoop up a spoonful of another flavour.

"The best," she corrects. "So what do you want to do when we get home?"

"A movie maybe?"

Jiwoo raises a questioning brow at your choice as she spoons up more. She pouts for a second. "I was going to say I could fuck you senseless, but sure, a movie." Her laugh makes you realize she is teasing you and you feel the red creeping into your cheeks. The ice cream shop isn't busy at all, just a couple of regulars, but that doesn't stop you from glancing around in case somebody heard. Jiwoo laughs even harder as the worry shows in your expression.

"We could watch a movie first. Before you... you know."

"Oh, I definitely know." Jiwoo chuckles again, this time softer but the fire is in her eyes now, you've seen this before, felt the touch of her fire.

-

The walk home is peaceful. The sun has just fallen over the sunset leaving a soft glow, the breeze is cool and gentle, and the cars pass slowly. You're the one who is holding her hand now, feeling her body pressed into your arm, leaning onto you as you guide her along the path home, and even without a word spoken, it feels perfect.

Then there's a ring. Jiwoo's phone. She fumbles around for her pocket before pulling it out and sliding the lock screen to the side.

"Yes, this is Jiwoo." You wait in silence, watching her brows furrow. "What the hell? Why?" The look in her eye makes you nervous, you can almost see the steam rising from her ears. She lets go of your hand and stops. You halt with her and listen in. You can hear a voice on the other end of the line but not enough to discern words. Whatever it was, though, it made her mood flip. She ends the call abruptly with a stern 'yeah,' before slipping the phone back into her jacket pocket. Her face has turned to stone.

"What is it?" you ask and place a hand on her shoulder. She turns away from the gesture.

"It was one of the assistant coaches," Jiwoo begins, looking ahead. Her gaze seems lost in the distance, unfocused on whatever was before her but focused on something, something unpleasant. "She's been in touch with the officials, they're suspending me for three games." It's short, sharp, abrupt.

"What?"

"Let's just go home." Jiwoo shrugs off your hand and walks away. You rush after her.

"But that hit was barely—"

"It doesn't matter. Let's just go home."

You leave it at that, following a few paces behind. She doesn't turn to you, doesn't offer her hand, just keeps walking.

As you enter the building lobby you make a point of taking hold of her hand again, as if trying to anchor her in this moment rather than her lost gaze. The elevator doors open and you both step in, her thumb rolls across the back of your hand in a soothing manner.

"I'm fine," she finally says with a deep breath. "I'll be okay."

She throws herself onto the bed as soon as the door closes. Face down, head in a pillow. Her legs dangle over the bed, kicking back and forth. She groans, it's muffled, and she stretches out with a huff.

"Jiwoo?"

Her head tilts to the side to acknowledge you.

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

You don't expect much of an answer but you receive one nonetheless, a firm one that makes you gulp. "Yes." She pushes herself upright and stares at you.

"Get naked," her voice is cold and low. Not what you had in mind.

"What?"

"Naked, I need you naked," Jiwoo states again. Her face is stony and her gaze intense. "And on your knees."

Your heart skips a beat. The tone in her voice doesn't suggest this is up for negotiation, not that it matters. She is angry, that much is clear.

"Jiwoo, is this—"

"Did I ask for an opinion?" Her expression stays cold and distant, though there is an unmistakable spark in her eye. She climbs to sit on the edge of the bed and stares through you with that same intensity that is still growing hotter and more dangerous with every second. She crosses one leg over the other, and in those shorts, it is nothing less than a treat.

"Yes, Jiwoo," you nod and start removing your shirt.

"Don't call me Jiwoo right now." You are half-naked and pulling your jeans down to the floor as Jiwoo continues. "From now on it's 'yes miss' and 'right away miss' and 'please let me cum miss.' Do you understand?"

You love it when she gets like this. She's in charge and will not be challenged. You stand in awe for a second as you take in her presence before nodding in response. You drop down onto your knees, naked and exposed.

"Yes miss," you repeat just before shuffling a few steps closer.

She looks down at you, watching intently, then uncrosses her legs to let one foot press to your bare torso. "Good boy," she says. The heel of her foot presses against your chest, and then she kicks out. You're pushed back but regain your composure and return to how you were kneeling before.

"I was so fucking happy earlier!" Her voice is strained as she stands up in front of you. "Now? Now, now, now," she trails off, "Now I just need something to take the fucking edge off."

Her hand snakes around the back of your head to grip your hair. She pulls and it hurts. You look up and are instantly met by her dark expression.

"Do you know how to do something like that?"

You nod in response. She grips at your hair again. There's that pain again.

"I asked if you knew how to do that."

"Yes miss." That earns a smile. It's faint but there. You'll earn more from her before this night is done.

She releases your hair and steps back to sit down again, feet planted firmly on the floor, and her hands on the waist of those short shorts.

"Help me undress." The cold tone is still there and you shuffle forwards again on your knees to obey. Your hands find her thighs first, resting there gently as you lean in, and your lips brush hers with the softest of caress. Your kiss is delicate and gentle, caring even as if you're asking permission to proceed.

"Don't tease me." She huffs and pulls back to glare down at you, and you see the fire there again.

"Sorry, Miss," you offer.

"I told you to help me undress, not play around."

You nod. She is right. This isn't play. Not for you. You reach up for her shorts and unfasten the top button. The zipper goes down quickly and easily. Such long legs and tiny little shorts. Your hands pull at the denim, sliding them down her soft skin and letting your fingertips graze them delicately. You see her underwear next. Pink, cute and such a contrast to the power of its wearer. You throw away the shorts and stare in awe, your mind filling with the thoughts of what comes next.

She sees your expression and wastes no time in calling you out. "You're staring."

"Sorry miss." Your voice is low and quiet.

"It's not yours to gawk at."

"I know, miss."

"So stop staring and undress me, I'm not doing it for you," she snaps. She gestures down and you know exactly what she wants from you now. You know her body well. You know exactly where you should be, where she wants you, and how to please her. And you're not going to leave her disappointed.

With a nod and a 'Yes Miss' you get back to undressing her. The underwear is soft against your fingertips as you hook a few digits around the top of them. She raises an eyebrow, impatiently. Her expression tells you that she is waiting—to have you ravage her. With the fabric held lightly, you pull. Her hips lift a fraction of an inch to help you, allowing you to reveal the pink folds between her thighs.

The pants are discarded somewhere, forgotten as you move in closer, feeling the warmth of her pussy. Jiwoo smirks as you look back up, finding her watching your face and every movement.

"Eat." Her hand pushes your face closer to the apex of her thighs. Her legs rest on your shoulders. Soft thighs hug the sides of your face and the strong muscles tense as she feels you push your lips against her soft cunt. You let your tongue run up the length, taking in her scent, her flavour and her heat. It has you weak in seconds.

Your eyes are half closed as you lap at her juices, and she keeps one hand on your head, her nails raking through your hair. "I needed this so bad." Her words come with a breathy sigh as you suck on her lips. Her head tilts back and she relaxes. Jiwoo moans, softly, sensually, with your head in her grip and your tongue buried inside her pussy.

Her thighs squeeze tighter around your head and her heels dig into your back. "Such a good boy." Her voice is surprisingly tender compared to her actions. "Use your fingers." You immediately oblige. Two fingers sink into her slick wet cunt.

You suck on her clit, rolling your tongue around it as your fingers curl and stretch inside of her. Her sighs and quiet moans start low and light, little hints, little teases. Then the sounds build louder. As your fingers quicken their pace and your tongue beats on her clit, you meet her unspoken demand. Subservience is all she needs.

Jiwoo grips your hair as her moans turn to desperate mewling. "Fuck..." She whines and drags out the word until her hips buck and her thighs tense. In a shivering climax, her voice goes silent and her thighs clench hard. But you're still caught between them. You don't move away, pressing on with kisses and more long sucks until her gasps subside.

"Enough." It's the softest you've heard her this evening, but still, that command is clear and uncompromising. You pull away.

Jiwoo sighs and, while she takes the time to recompose herself, you remain kneeling between her legs in perfect patience.

"Good boy," she comments while her hand is roaming back through your hair. Then she sighs again, leans forward and beckons you to move closer with a simple 'come here.' Jiwoo places a soft peck on your cheek before moving her mouth to your ear. "Stand up and get on the bed."

You do exactly as you're told. Naked and standing, she tugs her shirt over her head. The bra comes next. The toned athletic figure of this woman is enough to make your mouth water, and your throbbing erection twitch, desperate for her to touch. Yet you refrain, knowing, and understanding what this is about. She'll decide when that happens, not you.

As soon as you climb up to sit on the bed Jiwoo moves, too, climbing onto your lap and, once straddling you, making it impossible to not feel the heat of her already wet cunt against your cock. Her lips meet your neck in several rough, hungry kisses and it makes you groan softly, you want more, you need more but you can't have it yet. Not unless she allows it.

"Are you going to behave for me?" she coos, kissing your jaw as she speaks.

"Yes miss."

"Good." The first gentle movement of her hips is torture, the way she ruts against your cock. You're aching for a relief. All you want to do is bury yourself in her right now, feel the tightness as she pulsates around you. "You have to earn that."

Your hands rise of their own accord but you catch them mid-air, waiting for permission to touch, to hold her, to bring her closer. "Please, miss?"

She smiles against your neck, and kisses you again, while the warm wetness of her slick folds pushes down the length of you with slow, tantalizing movements. You moan, louder than you intended and your hips rock up against her, you can't help it. They beg to drive up further, to bury yourself inside her, but you have to wait, wait until she is satisfied.

"What is it? Can't control yourself? Is my pussy making you excited?"

The voice is honey-laced and the heat between her legs, pressed down onto you is torture. This game she plays is nothing less than absolute arousal.

"Yes miss."

"If you can't control yourself..." Her voice trails off as she pulls herself away from you. "Close your eyes."

You nod in obedience, close your eyes as commanded and listen.

A low rumbling meets your ears. A familiar click follows, then a rustle. There are her footsteps next, soft and careful, coming closer to the side of the bed. Jiwoo's breathing is heavy, and so is your own, you still smell the lingering muskiness that lingers in the air. The clink of metal and then the cool sensation of the steel on your wrists causes your eyes to open and stare at the cuffs, binding each of your hands to the bed posts.

"Just in case you don't obey the rules." She smiles and her demeanour is playful, taunting, and seductive. It's her game now and you're just the toy.

"Now, where was I?" Her naked body slides over you. She takes your face in her hands and holds it in place for her mouth to meet yours again.

All you know is the dance of her tongue against yours and the movements of her hands as they run over you. Those long fingers travel from your face, to your jaw, neck and over your collarbone, descending to your chest. Once her hands make it there, she scratches them down along your torso to your stomach. Pain lingers where her nails mark you.

Then the rest of her body begins its motions. Hips roll. Her pussy grinds against you, slick and ready, again and again. Her motions are slow, precise, and calculated. Each kiss and each bite, each scratch of her nails over your body. In turn, your arms pull against the restraints and your cock aches with desire.

This is going to be a long night for you. You're bound, helpless, struggling, desperate. Watching the woman's body undulate above you is maddening. Feeling her on you, feeling her pussy grinding on you is heavenly. Her sharp groans and low moans in your ear make you even more desperate.

Jiwoo shivers, her skin prickles with goosebumps and the muscles in her core tense and relaxes again and again. All you can focus on is the intense and overwhelming feeling of her sex rubbing so eagerly against you. She bites her lip, furrows her brows and leans into her pleasure. Her breaths increase and her movements become erratic.

"I'm going to fuck you until I've had enough," she pants.

This woman can take whatever she wants, whenever she wants. You are no exception.

"Jiwoo..." You can't help it. Her name escapes.

"What did you call me?"

You still. Waiting. Heartbeat in your ears. Worry in your eyes.

Jiwoo shakes her head. She stops rocking her hips and grabs hold of your face, staring at you, almost searching for something as her gaze probes yours. There is a fire in those eyes, like the roaring blaze of a furnace, the blazing sun of a summer day. Fire is a destructive, uncompromising, beautiful, passionate force. The flame of passion burns, you have seen it. The flame consumes as Jiwoo does.

"Now I'm really going to need to punish you. Gonna ride you until it hurts."

"Please," you moan.

She reaches between her thighs to aim your cock towards her pussy and slowly presses down, guiding it through her soft, soaked folds before enveloping you in the absolute hotness and wetness of her cunt. Your eyes roll as she pulls her hips upwards a fraction and then down again, impaling herself, feeling her tighten with her motions.

Slow.

Hard.

She drives her hips down against yours. Your eyes lock again and the flames begin to spill forth. Your legs tremble. Your toes curl. Your back arches, your arms tense and tug against the bonds. The cuffs bite and the bed frame creaks. Each thrust and slam and wet pulse around your rock-hard cock elicits a sound, deep and involuntary, as you try to endure her punishment. Jiwoo knows this, she enjoys it, fucking you over and over, taking her pleasure, she needs this.

Her hips shift suddenly, changing the angle. Everything is better like this, she feels so good, moving, riding, panting. You growl in tortured ecstasy and she seems even more eager. Her grip is so hard on the sides of your body, her nails burying into your skin.

"Ah, right there, yes!"

Jiwoo slams her ass down against your hips and grinds, moving quickly, desperately. And you want her. Fuck, how you want her. But you can't, you're chained to this bed and she owns you now.

"Jiwoo, please!" You have no idea what you're begging for.

A hand reaches up and grasps the bars of the bed frame. Her face comes close. Mouth near your ear. Heavy breaths. Teeth on your jaw.

She releases the bar. The hand meets your face, smacking it. Hard. Pain explodes and your mind spins in agony and lust. Your hips drive up. You cum. Unprepared and powerful. An orgasm hits you so hard that you barely remember the words slipping past your lips—words of release, words of lust. Cum erupts from your dick, throbbing wildly into her. You're saying her name over and over. You're thankful.

You'd be a fool to think she would stop.

No.

In no way is Jiwoo finished with you, not yet. She keeps going, knowing what you can take. The whimpers of your sore cock within the walls of her hot, tight, wet cunt go ignored.

It doesn't matter if your cock is starting to go limp or your nerves are singing in pain, she keeps using you. Her hips bounce on yours, her breath and moans heavy and rough. Her body undulates in lust. Fuck, you're amazed by her beauty, her fire, her passion and her strength, even when you can no longer provide.

Then Jiwoo tosses her head back. Her back arches and tenses. Her skin prickles and her abs tighten. Through the stinging pain, you take pleasure in watching, watching her lose herself. Her sounds are guttural and grow louder as her fingers stroke her engorged clit in hurried, rough circles. Then it happens. She clenches and then nothing, there's no longer the need to move, to breathe or to live, only her orgasm courses through her, wave after wave as her screams and moans mix, you can't distinguish one from the other.

And when finally, the blissful agony has passed, her body collapses. Overheated skin rests against yours, slick with perspiration. For what feels like several minutes there are no words spoken. Nothing but rapid breaths and beating hearts. She doesn't let you slip out of her, not yet, she just lays upon you. Bodies and minds melt together.

Then there comes a whisper. A single word. While your cum begins to leak from her exhausted cunt. "Again."

You choke on your words, holding back your protest. She slowly rocks her hips, spurring your spent cock forcefully back to life and it's all you can do to obey. Hands bound and no choice left, you're forced to let her ride you to her heart's content. After all, everything she does is on her terms.

She keeps her movements slow, languid, barely moving above you. They're not as desperate. Jiwoo can see the way you grimace and takes twisted pleasure in watching the range of pained expressions as she teases. Maybe she will draw it out for another hour, maybe two, until finally she's finished with you, but you can never be certain, not until it ends.

She feels the way your body reacts. Through the oversensitivity of your soft cock re-awakening and regains stiffness as her wet cunt kneads up and down on it. Then Jiwoo sighs, low and heavy and her movements quicken. You know where this leads—more relentless fucking from her, more building up to another screaming orgasm, you tense in anticipation of the same torturous cycle all over again, ready for her to leave you sore and exhausted, only able to simply quiver and convulse under the continuing onslaught of her pleasure.

"Good boy."

[auroras-zenith]

what doesn't kill you // part 1

you had your whole life planned out for you; start an agency with your best friend, scale the charts and make japan your bitch. but when a tragic accident leaves you incapacitated and out of a job, you find you just need to start fresh. you cut ties–and for two years, you've all but disappeared. until they need you again and come knocking at your door.

bakugo x retiredpro!reader

previous ✧ next

The winds howled with a fury matched only by that lit within Katsuki Bakugo as he propelled himself forward at reckless speeds. The explosions emanating from his hands only aggravated the sky in its tantrum further. Fluorescent red and blue lights lit the night sky into day–a warning written into each flashing color.

It was a hard night to be a hero.

The villain had disappeared without a trace at some point during the fight–a cowardly move–but it was already far too late. The damage was done–spanning far across the expanse of several city blocks. Every hero in Japan was out, managing collapsing apartment buildings in the hundreds. The world waited with bated breath to see how things would pan out.

“South stairwell has fallen!”  The words were panicked and rushed, each staticky syllable striking a new bout of fear into the hero’s already erratic heart.  

“Deku! Civilians on the seventeenth floor! I can’t get them down without breaking the building!”

"We need backup!"

“Creati is down! We need to fall back!”

The blonde man felt his heart sinking. The heroes were spread too thin. They were losing ground. He had to call it at some point–had to cut his losses and count the bodies.

But how could they just leave? Even if the casualty count rose no higher, 182 loved ones would not return home to their families tonight–from this sector alone. He hovered midair for a moment, torn.

"Dynamight, we've got to go! The buildings structurally unsound!"

"You all get out! I'm not done yet. I'll leave when the building is clear!" You shouted, refusing to back down as you sprinted through the maze of debris.

“Tch! Cordelia! Rendezvous point! Now!” He made up his mind, shouting above the sound of the gales that threatened to knock him right out of the air. He changed course, guiding himself back toward where the rest were undoubtedly gathering.

"I've already told you! I'm not done till that whole building is empty, end of story. You go!"

"Cordelia, I'm not fucking with you, you hear me?!" He seethed. "Cordelia, do you copy! Don't start some self-sacrificing bullshit! Get your ass out, we're going!"

The silence that stretched through the night was fine at first–but then it was a second too long. And then several seconds too long. The eerie absence of sound chilled him to the bone, freezing him in his tracks. “Cordelia! Where the fuck are you at?”

He felt the blood in his veins turn to ice as he was met with the only sound worse than silence.

A blood curdling scream ripped through the comms, the crackly sound carrying evident agony.

“Crap!” He hissed, making an immediate 180. His annoyance was nothing more than a disguise–a clever mask that he could hide behind to feign confidence. In reality, he could feel his world shaking and crumbling to pieces around him. “I NEED EYES ON CORDELIA NOW! RED! SHE WAS WITH YOU LAST!” 

“She left with Chargebolt to the east quadrant!” 

“Chargebolt was taken out of the field for injuries!” 

“FUCK!” He shot through the sky, a comet of fear as unspoken worries and doubts flashed through his mind faster than he could shoot them down. He wasn’t supposed to fear–he was supposed to be feared. But you always had been his greatest strength–or perhaps you were his only weakness.

“I’VE GOT EYES ON HER, DYNAMIGHT! SHE’S BEEN HIT! EVERYONE GET TO THE RENDEZVOUS POINT, I’LL GET HER!”

"FUCK THAT, DEKU! I'M COMING!" The terror in his voice was practically contagious.

Midoriya felt the walls of the building crumbling apart around him–or maybe that was his world. The hit wasn’t looking good–clean through your spine. He slid to the floor, narrowly dodging a falling chunk of concrete.

“Cordelia! Cordelia, I need you to stay with me!” He demanded wildly as he willed his legs faster.

He had seen terrors of all shapes and sizes. Natural disasters that left everything in shambles, monsters that shook the earth with each step, but this…

He worked as he spoke, adrenaline working overtime as he rushed to lift you, sprinting as he navigated them both through the collapsing rubble as if you weighed nothing.

“Cordelia!” He felt his heart leap out of his chest as he saw your eyes threatening to close. “Cordelia! CORDELIA! Y/n! Y/n, please! He can’t lose you. I can’t lose you, Y/n!” He begged.

Your silence save for your labored and erratic breathing spurred his steps faster. A large piece of rubble fell from the roof, blocking the only exit.

“Shoto! I need a way out! Northeast stairwell’s compromised!” He shouted into his earpiece, heart beating louder than the sound of the building coming apart.

“DON’T MOVE, DEKU!” The world shook harder.

How could this be happening? Cordelia? His partner? The cofounder of the Dynadelia agency?

The wall in front of Deku and you shook, splintering into thousands of tiny rocks. The green haired hero moved to shield you with his body, his larger frame absorbing all the impact. He handed you off to the explosion hero without another word.

The blonde jumped without another word, using his explosions to slow his descent as he cradled you safely in one arm. Deku followed suit, using his quirk to slow his fall as well.

"MEDIC! WE NEED A MEDIC!"

It didn't take a genius to see he was losing them. He was losing two of his closest friends. One to the giant metal rod sticking through her abdomen, and the other to the deathly fear pounding through his head.

The world was silent tonight as the men plummeted to the floor, praying for Japan's fourth hero.

The hero world, praying for Y/n L/n.

a/n: goal is to not randomly ghost this cus i HATE when that happens to me

taglist: @floverisland @biancatomlinson @rosaryia

permanent tags: @phtmmsqrde

[leviraaaaaa]

It'd been years after the war.

You no longer had to fight anymore.

The ODM bruises had started to fade as you don't have to tighten the straps anymore, so hard that they dug into your skin. You don't miss the familiar weight of the gas tanks and thunder spears around your waist.

No more recovering only the remains of your dead friend. No more running for your life. No more corpses, no more blood.

You don't miss that life.

You've found your peace, a life with Levi.

You would have never thought it was possible. Not just you and him, but the whole concept of it.

That finally, you can sleep peacefully, without being scared of an urgent call that a wall was broken through. Though you'd still have nightmares but still. And even then it was fine because you had Levi now, to help you get through it. You no longer hard to curl up to yourself and try to calm yourself down, hug a pillow and sob silently so none of your dormmates wake up. You had Levi now.

Or the mornings, you think. The odd sense of peace, the feeling of safety. You can wake up beside him and stay in bed for as long as you want. You don't have to get up and search for your uniform. There's no training to be late to. You just curl yourself around him and watch him sleep, peaceful. And you get to watch when he'd woke up, sleepy sleepy eyes peering through and then arms wrapping around you tighter. He looks so vulnerable then. But you're glad, you think. That he can sleep like that now. That he feels safe enough to, safe with you. His dark circles aren't so visible anymore and he doesn't look as tired as he used to. He still can't get a full rest, but the insomnia isn't that bad.

Life had changed. And for the best. Peace for him and peace for you.

But try as you may, and oh dear God did you try, you can't actually forget. Can't actually leave the life you had spent so many years living behind just like that.

No, the scars never faded.

Souvenirs, you think. Reminders etched into your skin, reminders of who you were and what you've done and all that you pray to forget.

Yours stopped bothering you at one point. It used to. Once. Severely.

You'd stare at the bruises on your thighs for hours or the livid pale slashes along your arms or your stomach. Rough knuckles and calloused fingertips, the constant usage of ODM had left marks there too.

It's more the memories than anything that comes with it.

You used to think, how could anyone possibly look at this marred mess you were and still love you?

Oh but Levi.

He never told you but you knew.

He thinks it's not enough. That he's not enough. That surely you deserve someone with all their fingers, and both their eyes.

And you think it's ridiculous.

But even now, after so many years, you'd sometimes catch a glimpse of him staring at himself into the mirror, fingers grazing his face.

The world had been so cruel to him. And he didn't know how to be kinder to himself.

Unlike you, who cried it out, he never learnt how to actually handle his emotions. So when it's one of those days, he merely shuts himself out. In his own dark little mind. And those days, you leave him alone, because he only curls into himself deeper if you try to get him out. And you learnt to give him space, for him to come out on his own. Though every inch of you wants to help him, but you don't know how.

And it was one of those days, you realized when you walked into the bathroom.

He was staring at the bathroom mirror, arms braced on the counter. So focused he didn't even hear you coming.

"Levi?" You called out gently.

He didn't answer, but his head tilts towards you, eyes shifting to meet yours. He only gives a slight nod.

"You... okay?"

"...yeah." He takes a moment but nods. "Fine."

And it was then you noticed how hard his fingers gripped onto the counter. And you noticed his expression, the look of guilt there. How he wouldn't even look at you properly.

Your heart hurt.

If only he understood.

You didn't say anything but walked towards him. And without a word, you slide on top of the counter, shifting so he was standing between your legs. You locked your legs behind him, pulling him closer. He was startled but he didn't say anything, his eyes downcast.

There was so much pain inside those gray eyes.

"Levi." Your voice gentle, soft. "Look at me."

At that, he only tilted his head, looking further away from you, eyes darting sideways.

"No, look at me." You held his chin, turning his head towards you. He flinched at your touch, but you could see the resistance breaking under your gaze. The walls coming down.

With that, you held up your hair, tilting your head to show him a slash that went up to your neck.

"See this?"

He looked at you, confused. And without a word, you tugged on your t-shirt, taking off the clothing in one pull.

"What are you... doing?" He asked, warily. Eyes on your face. Even after so many years, he still got shy.

"No, eyes here lev." You said firmly. "See this?" You pointed at a scar along your elbow, then towards the bruises that ODM had left on your chest. " And this?"

He only stared at you, expression hard. His jaw tightened.

"Tell me Lev." You sighed.

"Does these repulse you? Creeps you out? Do you think they're ugly? Do they make you love me less? Or not at all?"

Levi looked horrified. He was immediately shaking your head, desperate to deny the words. How could you even think that?

"No." He said hastily, eyes wide. "No, what are you saying? Of course not—"

"So why on earth," You gently cupped his cheek, shushing him down. "Do you believe that yours makes me love you any less?"

Your thumb pressed along the scars on his cheek. They were white now, no longer blood red and livid on his skin as it was back when Hange stiched them up. You swallowed, pressing your forehead to his.

"What made you think," You whispered. "That these makes you worth any less levi? "

He didn't pull away, but he stiffened. His face hardened but there was a look of despair beneath his eyes. "That's not the same—''

"How is it any different?" You cut him out, your voice firm. "You tell me, I'm waiting."

He hesitated, staring at you. And then he looked down.

"...I'm crippled."

"Your point?"

"You deserve someone younger. Someone whole. Someone who's more than me."

"There's no one that's more than you levi."

"I'm damaged. "

"We'll fix it. I'll fix you. So, help me fix myself."

"I'll hurt you. I've already hurt you. I don't know how to be better than this. I don't know how to love someone. "

"You're the only person who have never hurt me. You make me feel more worthy than anyone else in this world ever could. And holy shit, if you can't," You whispered. "If you can't, let me. God, I'd love the shit out of you if you'd just let me. So fucking let me in Levi, don't push me away. Don't shut me out. You've done that enough in your lifetime."

And Levi was still. He was made out of stone. So hard, so rough, the edges so sharp. He tries to soften himself for you, but it goes against everything he ever taught himself his whole life and he doesn't know how to do that. He tries, but somehow it never feels enough. Not enough for you. And he wish he could believe that you didn't love him because you do and he could feel it. He can always feel it . Like the way you were looking at him and he felt so, so exposed.

It makes him feel guilty. Someone like you doesn't belong with someone like him. And he wishes, for once in your life, you'd stop looking at him like that so he could convice himself that you don't want him and he could walk away.

And he knows he makes you feel like you're not good enough, because he sees your sad expression when he locks himself out. But it's not you, he wants to tell you. God, you're fucking perfect and it's never you. It's him. He's the fucking problem. The space inside his head was so dark he was scared that just might be enough for you to leave.

But you. The tempt of it.

The warmth of you. You were all softness and gentless and goodness, so so kind to him and it makes him want to hold you tight and never let go again.

But somedays it gets so hard.

He isn't used to this. To show his feelings. To feel so bare in front of someone. Instinct doesn't let him.

He isn't used to feel so loved.

But he thinks he'd try. For you.

Because now that it's you, he doesn't know how to go back to a time there wasn't you.

"Levi?" Your voice pulls him out of his mind. Like you always did. His saving grace, his angel. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling you closer and he can hardly breathe.

"Don't give up on me, Levi." You whispered to his ears. "On you. On us."

@sad-darksoul @anxious-chick @raginginferno267

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 53 (Detective Gordon's New Precinct)

While work kept Heather busy, Conrad spent his days learning the ropes at his new precinct in Brindleton Bay, where crime was less organized and the cells full of mostly petty criminals. Smuggling could be a problem at the docks from time to time, but they never stayed in port long to avoid getting caught, and never added much intrigue or danger to the town.

Gord couldn't join him when he spent his days on patrol, but this only motivated ambitious Conrad to prove himself even more.

He liked the sleepier lifestyle, the less dangerous crime scenes, and the supply of NesbeetsLT faux meat sandwiches in the break room vending machine. But he didn’t love leaving his beloved partner at home with the cats. None of his human partners could sniff out a suspect the way Gord could!

Conrad had better instincts than most of the detectives at his new precinct, and they invited him along to learn the ropes after a local barfight ended in a robbery. But rather than learn the ropes, Conrad solved the case. As a reward they let him process the booking - and all the paperwork, too!

He didn't mind. He was happy to show them how good he was. The guilty sim asked how he knew it was her while he took her fingerprints, and Conrad smiled.

"I followed the clues. You just left more behind than you thought."

He quickly proved himself worthy of several promotions until he was back to being a detective again, just like he’d been in San Myshuno. He was thrilled to have proven himself in less than six months. And now he could bring Gord on the job with him again.

And Gord was thrilled to be back inside a police station, ready to sniff out the next bad guy just like he used to do in the city.

"Okay, Gord, like we talked about, just be cool," Conrad pressed. "Stay calm."

Gord turned up his chin and gave an affirmative ruff.

Inside, the other detectives were happy to meet their new "deputy" Gord. Brindleton Bay was a pet-loving town, and it seemed silly there'd been no canines on the local force until now!

Gord leapt into the arms of Josephine, Conrad's human partner.

"I'm so sorry. He does this a lot more than he should." Gord barked as Conrad shot him a sideways glance.

"It's fine!" said Josephine with a laugh. "I think I'll like having him around."

After Conrad grabbed some lunch and put in a workout in the gym upstairs, he came back down to find Gord at Josephine's feet in the chief's office. "Gordon, you've got a great dog. If I'd have been in charge then, I'd have let you take him out with you when you first got here," said the chief.

Josephine smiled. "I'm supposed to retire in a year, but I could stick around for Gord alone. Where did you find this one?"

"We busted the puppy mill where was born back in the city. But honestly, Gord found me. My first partner named him when he followed me back to the cruiser. He passed K-9 training with flying colours, and he's been my partner against crime ever since."

Gord barked happily, rubbing his head against Conrad's pressed pant leg. Josephine pulled out her phone. "Can I take a picture to send my grandson? He just loves dogs!"

One evening, Conrad and Gord returned from work to find the cats playfully stalking the chickens in the yard. Heather hadn't asked him to pick up Ash on his way home, but for that he'd expected to see them both when he walked in.

"Heather?"

He set down his keys, but only the cats came running.

The house was eerily quiet. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

I hadn't figured out how to get Gord to the precinct and @deardiaryts4 just casually said "I guess you'll have to pose him there without a mod" and it melted my brain. Like I had never heard of or done this before in my life, but it opened up a whole new world of sim storytelling and poses for me and I'm so excited!! Thank you so much for the advice so I could at least pose Gord at work!

[gretavanfleetposts]

Nothing Breaks Like A Heart - Part Three of Make Her Happy

Author's Note: The long-awaited part three! I'm a dually incredibly embarrassed that this took almost an entire year to finish. The time really got away from me LOL So I'm very sorry for that but I hope you all enjoy (and fingers crossed it was worth at least some of that wait)

Content Warnings: lots of swearing, bit of drinking

Word Count: 6k

Part One - Make Her Happy

Part Two - Give Me Shelter

One of the last things Jake had said to you before he'd left was that you should talk to Josh. And that was exactly what you hadn't done.

In fact, you’d let two weeks slip by like sand through your fingers without poking or prodding the topic even once. You’d clung to your avoidance like battle armor and if you were honest with yourself, you feared losing Jake just as much as you feared losing Josh.

So you and Josh hadn’t spoken and nothing had changed, nothing other than the fact that it felt Jake had been keeping his distance. Or maybe you were just more sensitive to his absence now that it felt necessary.

Damn him for being a good brother. For being better than me.

He was better than you, it seemed. Because he had put you to bed two weeks ago and left under the impression you were going to do the right thing and instead, you'd avoided your problems and had once again come running to Jake to have him make you feel better.

No, not to make me feel better. Just to play a stupid game. That's all.

He must have heard the honk of your car locking because you had barely made it to the front door before he was suddenly standing there in your way, a look on his face that somehow tangled caution and amusement into one jumbled mess expressed as a half-quirked smile and eyebrows that dipped low in the middle of his forehead. It was an expression that quite matched how you felt, butterflies and guilt and all.

“I take it you two didn't talk.”

Is it that obvious?

“What a way to greet a lady,” you said with a sudden scowl as you pushed past him through the doorway and led yourself to his kitchen.

To say you weren’t quite ready to broach that topic would have been an understatement.

“Why do you seem so chipper?” he asked from behind you as he followed your path through his home.

“I can't be happy to see you?” you threw back at him as you dropped your tote bag off your shoulder and onto the pristine marble of his kitchen island with a familiar muffled clang of a glass bottle shrouded by thin canvas to dull the promise it rang out into the air as it was set down. A little something for the soul.

“I guess I’ve admittedly grown a little bit more used to being greeted with tears. But this is a nice change.”

He gave you a sweet smile but paired with the way his eyes seem to wilt at the outer corners, you could see the sadness it held. It reminded you of the guilt you carried around with you constantly lately, only with a new object of affection. How selfish of you to think that this hadn’t taken any toll on him at all.

Your eyes turned soft. “I'm sorry. I am. You've been my sunshine these past several months. I hope you know that.”

Even as you said it, you knew it couldn’t begin to articulate what it was you really felt for him. But it was enough just to see the rose of a deep blush tinge his cheeks red and turn his smile suddenly bashful.

“Happy to provide,” was all he said in that typical, raspy, almost sleepy voice of his.

It was hard not to chuckle at the things he found too intimate to take in stride. It was fine for him to call you what he had in bed but heaven forbid you call him your sunshine…

“Don't think I didn't notice you dodging my original question though,” he added, breaking your concentration.

Oh yeah. My problems. How lovely of him to remind me.

You quirked up an accusing eyebrow. “Like how you dodged my compliment just now?”

“Ever so expertly,” he answered, this time with an unabashed smile that spread his lips wide across his face.

You felt your gaze dart away before you could even stop it, a heavy sigh pillowing in your chest before expelling into the air like a pot on the stove blowing off steam to keep from boiling over.

“I need one night of just…not talking about it.” You’d had plenty of nights of that, actually. What was one more? “Or thinking about it, preferably.” And then to really catch his attention and maybe even further drive home your point, you reached into your bag to uncloak the wine.

There was a specific smile he always donned when alcohol was present and when it took hold, you knew you could take it as an agreement to drop it, at least while there was a full bottle to contend with.

He took it from your grasp with only a dutiful nod, turning the dark glass over in his hands to inspect the label despite the fact that he likely knew nothing printed there would catch his eye. You had one sense of taste that trumped all others when it came to using fermented drinks to bandage your wounds: cheap.

“What am I if not a seasoned distraction?” he asked, already digging into a cupboard to procure two large, round glasses.

“That's why I seek you out,” you answered with a smile as you watched his hands work and tried your hardest not to think back to that first time he had served as your distraction.

“Well, hopefully that’s not the only reason.”

It was that comment that caught you and sent your stomach into a twist unbecoming of someone who was very much not single, especially given the way it suddenly brought the memory of your second time to the forefront of your mind, a time when it was hardly a distraction so much as it was a necessity in that moment. 

No, distraction wasn’t the only reason you were there. Comfort either. You’d grown to long for his company in a much deeper way. It wasn’t company in general he was providing you with, it was his and his alone.

And the game, of course. Mostly that.

“What's on the agenda for the night?” Jake asked as if he hadn’t just sent you into a deep spiral of thought that you’d been hoping to avoid that evening.

At least he’d been kind enough to pour you a glass of wine without you asking.

“I brought candyland since you owe me a rematch for what you did last time.”

The memory of your pieces scattered on the floor along with every card in the deck like a colorful patchwork quilt that you'd made him clean up both times he'd done it brought an earnest smile to his face.

“I'll flip the board again if you don't let me get tipsy first.”

You certainly didn't have to wonder if he was serious so with the preservation of your game in mind, you agreed with a nod and a, “Seems fair to me,” as you reached out for your wine. But he was already retreating by the time your fingers reached the air that the temptation in a glass once occupied.

“Come here,” he said with a mischievous look overtaking his face. “Something I want to show you.”

This time it was you left following him through his home, both glass stems tucked snugly between talented fingers like he was beckoning you to chase him if you wanted yours. And you did want yours. That was why, despite the sudden flurry of nerves that his look seemed to conjure in your chest, you did as you were told and followed him.

I swear to God, if he's talking about his dick…

You actually weren't sure what you'd do. Probably not the decent thing.

But to your surprise, he led you to a usually barren room save for the red Persian rug warming the middle and the walls outlined in vintage instruments ready to be plucked off the wall and played. Except today, the center of the room wasn't barren as it had been for months.

The room opened up to greet you with a warm mahogany welcome in the shape of a baby grand piano that instantly made your fingers itch. It wasn't so different from the piano you'd been toying with at the party where you and Josh had met. Of course, you weren't as good a player as he was but you certainly knew your way around.

“Figured we rehearse here enough it was worth the investment,” you heard Jake say from behind you where he now stood watching as you carefully perched yourself onto the little matching mahogany bench.

“My God, she is beautiful,” you breathed as you opened the fallboard to uncover a full set of vintage ebony and ivory that seemed to practically yearn for your touch.

Your fingers danced out a quick melody that warmed your joints as much as it did your demeanor. You hadn't played much lately. Actually, you hadn't really played at all. But there were some things that stuck with you, worked their way into your bones, maybe into your very DNA. And this was one of them.

“Does this mean you're going to learn?” you asked, turning your focus back to him as you swiveled to find his face.

“I'd need a teacher for that and I refuse to let Sam fill that role.”

He gave you a cheeky smile that you read instantly. It was an open invitation for you to take on the role of said teacher, so you stood and, taking your wine glass from his hand finally, made a grand sweeping gesture toward the now unoccupied piano bench.

He took his seat, pretending to throw his imagined coat tails over the bench, earning a giggle that swished the wine in your glass. You hovered not too far behind him as he cracked his knuckles and cleared his throat, making a quite thorough display of his preparation only to put fingers to keys and press out one of the more off-key renditions of twinkle twinkle little star you'd ever heard. And he was met with another giggle that seemed to only encourage his actions.

“Oh that's amazing. You must teach me your ways,” you joked with a smile as you set your glass down on the floor just out of the way.

“Save me, please,” he answered with a hoarse laugh, finally slowing his fingers to a halt but keeping them positioned on the keys.

You approached him slowly, coming up close behind his back to stretch your arms over his shoulders and let your fingers find rest overtop his just as delicately as your chest grazed the wide plane of his back. You could smell his cologne strong on his neck as you guided his fingers to better position them amongst the keys, your breath dusting his cheek with each exhale. And you swore you could almost tell that he was holding in a breath if you paid close enough attention to the movement in his shoulders that seemed to have suddenly stilled.

Somewhere among your skin resting against his and your hair tickling his neck, the world around you seemed to grow still and quiet, fading into a background of white noise and blurred lines. And then you pressed your fingers more firmly into his and a striking chord sliced through the air alongside whatever breath Jake had been holding.

“There, just like that,” you said in a voice far shakier than you had hoped it would turn out to be.

But he was silent, letting you guide his fingers slowly up to a new chord, or outstretching a pinky to hit a further key as yours nudged it, never saying a word. He let you play that way, through him, feeling the notes through the strength and dexterity of his talented fingers that fit so snugly beneath yours and obeyed your every command.

“I knew I was good at something,” he joked in a whisper that barely traveled up above the note lingering beneath your hold until he turned his face dangerously to the side to face yours.

It brought his nose only an inch from yours but what felt even more dangerous were his eyes and the quick flicker they made to your lips, resting parted and practically panting. You didn’t even realize your own breathing had picked up until you suddenly became aware of the heat reaching your palms, heat he could likely feel radiating through his skin still resting beneath yours. And just as quickly as the moment had been conjured, he turned his face back to his hands and yours retreated entirely just before you darted over to your glass of wine to down the contents while he continued to fiddle with keys.

“You're a good student,” you commented as evenly as you could as you took a seat on the bench next to him. A much safer spot than where you had been.

“You’re a good teacher,” he answered with a quick flash of a smile in your direction, fingers still tripping over keys and filling the air around you with a disjointed music that you admittedly didn’t mind.

“Well, maybe not as good as you.” It came out rather absently as you had taken to fiddling with a random key yourself, turning your attention to that instead of the familiar pounding of your heart in your chest, a rhythmic reminder of the effect Jake had on you.

When he turned to face you again, you could feel his eyes hot on your cheek. You wanted to be brave and face him but there was something about his knowing gaze that made you feel that much more defeated. You felt like a terrible person, in all actuality. How could you have fallen for your boyfriend’s brother? Was that actually what you had done or were you just using him like a bandaid? Did you even know anymore?

Maybe it’s just the sex I like.

“Is that why you're here?” he asked, his gaze somehow even hotter than before. “You need another lesson?”

God, can he read my mind?

For a brief moment, you found yourself debating it. It didn’t feel like that was what you had come for but you certainly weren’t ignorant to the need that radiated through your body every time he so much as glanced in your direction. But you also weren’t ignorant to just how wrong it really felt. However it had felt that first time, hesitant as you had been, the glances you stole now didn’t feel that way. They didn’t feel harmless. They didn’t feel like something Josh had signed off his approval on.

And for now, the guilt rang strong enough through your body to stop you from doing something worse.

“I'm here to beat you at candyland,” you answered, eyes finally braving his face only to be greeted by a smile that seemed to be growing by the second.

“Well that's just not going to happen.”

—

“That is cheating!” you yelled over the board as you angrily moved Jake's piece back several spaces behind yours.

“It is not, my piece was planning on being there this whole time,” he argued back, grabbing it from your hand to return it to the space he had just placed it on with his hand that wasn't gripping his wine glass like his life depended on it.

You weren't sure if it was the booze or the antics of the game, but his British accent was starting to slip out the more uncivilized he got and you were trying your best to be stern despite the smile it was holding permanently to your lips.

“It doesn't matter what he was planning on, you didn't roll high enough to go that far!”

He gave you a displeased shake of his head as he finally took his piece back, “accidentally” knocking yours over in the process.

“I don't think you're playing this right,” he mumbled before chugging the remaining contents of his third glass of wine.

“I'm sorry you don’t get to just do whatever you want,” you laughed as you wrestled another card out of his hand seeing as it most certainly was not his turn.

“Well that is too bad, isn't it,” he said gruffly although even he was struggling to keep the smile off his face and commit to the bit.

The day had grown so late that darkness had finally come to greet you and this was your third attempt at a civilized game, which you were beginning to think was simply impossible with Jake. He just couldn’t seem to stop cheating.

Let’s not read too much into that.

By the time you had maneuvered all of the cards away from him thanks to that all-too familiar gleam in his eye, he sat back in his seat to let a comfortable silence grow between you both, silent glances exchanged as a buzz settled over you both. But in the silence and the calm grew that familiar heat, a buzz brought on by more than just the alcohol consumed that night. There was something about it, those quiet, gentle moments, that turned the volume of tension about the room up several levels, like you couldn't trust yourselves to be around one another in such a still moment without busying your hands and your bodies with one another. Like you were always just waiting for the next opportunity for it.

That was how it felt: like you were waiting. And suddenly in the haven of golden light in your little secluded pocket of the night, in the quietness of his gaze trying to stay fixed to anything but you, you felt you shouldn't be there.

Why had you come?

Jake cleared his throat and nudged your empty wine glass. “You want more?”

You gave him a light shake of your head and an answer just as soft. “I'm driving.”

He nodded in return and cast his eyes to his hands. He almost looked nervous. Why would he be nervous?

When he met your eyes again, you could tell he was searching your face for something. But what it was he was looking for, you had no idea. And if he found it, you had no idea of that either. But as you gazed back, you found yourself unable to look away, unable to hide your face or your eyes or your feelings from him. Whatever it was you were feeling, you let him see it there on your features like a book written just for him.

It's him I want. That's why I came.

It seemed to hit you all at once and suddenly the need for action seemed just as real.

“I guess I should go.”

Before I do something I shouldn't.

He nodded again, adding an almost silent “okay” that somehow made the task of getting up all the more hard. But somehow, your feet shuffled and your legs moved and your body, which seemed to be of much more sound mind than your actual mind, moved its way to the kitchen sink, wine glass in hand.

“You don't have to do that,” you heard Jake say from behind you.

Close behind you.

“I don't mind,” you answered quietly as you continued to turn the faucet on and rinse the glass.

That was when you felt him at your back, arms emerging from either side and his hands, practically shaking, entwining themselves with yours to steal the glass away from your grip.

“Here,” he whispered, “let me.”

Fuck.

You weren't exactly sure what it was that suddenly surged through you but the moment the glass was set safely on the counter, you turned into his arms to face him, lacing your fingers into his shirt buttoned ever so lazily. And the move brought your mouth mere inches from his, your bodies practically pressed tight to one another.

There was greed on your lips, greed you wanted him to taste.

“Jake, I want you,” you whispered without even an ounce of shame, finally giving in to what you had been fighting all evening.

It was met with his eyes winding tightly shut as a blow of frustrated air pushed from his lungs. “Don't do that to me,” he shook his head. “That's not fair.”

“You're right, it's not fair-”

Your lips were practically on his when he suddenly pulled back several steps, out of your grasp.

“This can't happen,” he said sternly, although whether that was for you or for him you weren't entirely sure.

What you were sure of though was the embarrassment seeping into your very being. And then the guilt. They seemed to freeze you in your place.

God, what am I doing?

What was worse was that you had thought he wanted you too. Had you read it all wrong? Had you read everything wrong? Was he only entertaining you because he could see your desperation so plainly in everything you did? Was it only pity he felt for you?

Josh had no time for you and now Jake didn’t want you either.

You took a few steps away from the sink, aimless, wandering, before your face fell into your hands, to hide it, to soothe yourself, to try and disappear.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated frantically, practically in a panic. “I don't know what I'm doing. It's just…it's not working.”

“You need to tell him that.”

God, the sympathy you now heard in his voice might have made you feel even worse.

“He knows that.”

“Babe-”

“I plan to,” you burst suddenly, hands falling away from your face to make way for the much louder sentiment, as unsure as it sounded. “I'm going to,” you repeated, “I just thought…”

You trailed off into nothing, totally defeated. You weren’t sure what you had thought but god, you were tired of this. Why was this so difficult? Why was this so complicated? Why hadn’t Josh just shown up like he was supposed to?

You looked to Jake somehow hoping he could give you the answers you were searching for but he looked just as confused, just as lost. And the longer you looked the more he looked…something else entirely.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked almost desperately.

You stuttered. “I mean…I think it's obvious. Or…maybe it isn't, I don't know, I just-”

“We can't be together,” he suddenly blurted out.

If his previous rejection hadn’t hurt, this certainly did. And it brought back to you the words he had said two weeks ago on the couch over pizza and comfort, only this time they seemed to form a coherence they hadn’t quite had when he’d spoken them then.

‘He knows I'm not the answer’.

And then the words that cut a little deeper. A little sharper.

‘Maybe that's why he sends me. He isn't worried about it’.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, all-too aware of what your body language was giving away. You had read it all wrong.

“I…I know that,” you answered quietly, pathetically, even though it wasn’t the truth. Not even close. “I know that.”

His eyes found your face again, this time more frantic, like he knew what he had just done but didn't have any choice in the matter. He raised his hand to your elbow, leaning in as he gripped you. He might have shaken you to try and get you to understand what he was saying if he thought that would go over better than his fingers alone.

“Listen to me, I'm telling you you need to do the right thing. He's my brother. But I can't…I can't be your answer.”

Those damn pesky tears were back, and with a vengeance. If you didn't dart out of there sooner rather than later, you'd be nothing but a puddle of salty water on his kitchen floor and you suddenly had no desire to let him see you that way.

There was anger there too, as misplaced as you knew it was, forming just as quickly and swelling into something so hot it practically blurred your vision. You felt almost lied to. Talk about fucking mixed signals. But you let out a long, terse, “okayyy” without even meeting his eyes, already mentally planning your escape.

“I love you, I do. I love you too much to-”

Bullshit.

“No, I get it,” you interjected before he could drive the knife any deeper. “It's good to know where you stand. Thank you.”

He called out for you more than once but it fell on deaf ears. You were already out of the house.

—

“Where were you?”

Good God, can’t the universe give me a break?

Josh's voice coming out of the near darkness startled you. You knew he was there. You'd seen his car in the driveway when you pulled in. But something about it felt like he was catching you in the middle of sneaking out. Or rather, sneaking in.

“I was out,” was all you said as you sat your things down and kicked off your shoes. You prayed your eyes weren’t still red and puffy from the crying you did on the car ride home.

“Just out?”

There was concern in his voice. You could hear it without even fully seeing his face where it was, shrouded in shadow that seemed all too fitting for the conversation you knew very well was about to be had. He could have easily been hiding from you. Fuck, you wanted to hide from him too.

You wanted to spare him the sigh that was brewing in your chest but it barreled out of you before you could stop it. “I needed to get my thoughts together,” you explained as you stepped further into the house and into the hall where you could better see him.

That was a mistake.

There was already pain in his eyes. Already a redness that you suspected was from his own tears. He knew where this was headed as well as you did.

Fuck, this might actually kill me.

“Why doesn't that sound good?” He gave you a nervous chuckle and the only smile he could manage, both of which fell flat.

“Josh, I…” There was actually nothing coming to your mind, try as hard as you did to think of the right thing to say. To think of anything to say for that matter. But he took pity on you instead and cut right to it. Something you might have been thankful for under any other circumstances. Well, maybe you still were thankful for it given these circumstances.

“I know,” he said without prompting. “I've been spread so thin lately-”

“For a while,” you corrected, only a tinge of the bitterness you felt biting into your tone. “And it's not really feeling like ‘spread thin’ so much as it is not making the time for…certain things. Things that should be a priority.”

Well that certainly sounded bitter.

“I know, baby. I've been wrapped up in a million little things. We're working on a new sound but it has required more of me than the others.”

You felt yourself wince at the pet name, a lump in your throat forming almost out of nowhere and suddenly threatening to strangle you.

You fought against it to push the words out. “Josh, I hear you, I really do, but this just isn't sustainable for me.”

He nodded at this but you could tell he was deep in thought. And his silence seemed to drag on for an eternity. Agonizingly. But when he finally broke it, you found yourself missing that silence.

“Does this have something to do with Jake?” he asked, raising his eyes to yours to undoubtedly impress upon you the importance of the question.

Suddenly you felt cold despite the sweat practically pooling in your palms and the heat flaring in your ears. You couldn't face him and tell him that you had fallen for Jake after all of the late nights you'd spent with him. You couldn’t admit to him the embarrassing truth that you had gone to seek him out, lying to yourself about why the whole time. And you certainly couldn’t admit to him how often you had thought of his brother when you found yourself alone over the past few months. But Josh seemed to glean every last one of those secrets from your silence alone.

“Where were you?” He finally asked the question you'd skirted around when you'd arrived home.

You didn't rarely hear Josh with anything you could call stern in his voice but you heard it now in his question. And his eyes begged the answer from you just as desperately as his tone did.

That was when you began to feel the tears well up for the second time that night. Your undereyes wouldn’t recover until the next week.

“Josh-” you croaked out, although he didn't seem to need you to finish whatever thought you were weakly stringing together into words.

“I shouldn't have let him do it. I shouldn't have let him near you that way.”

“It wouldn't have mattered,” you tried.

“Yes it would have. We wouldn't be here right now if I hadn't pushed you into his arms.”

“If it hadn't been him, I would have just been alone. All alone, Josh.” Even with the tears streaming silently down your face, you said his name pointedly enough that his shoulders seemed to slump and whatever anger was brewing for his brother was waning. “All alone for months and months thinking my boyfriend couldn't care less. Hoping I would at least get a text from you that time rather than Jake acting like some sort of carrier pigeon, as if that was any replacement.”

You'd never seen him so hurt. You'd never seen his face droop and fall that way, his lips melting downward at the corners and the liquid warmth of his eyes almost freezing over. Even his curls seemed to lose their bounce. He was wilting right in front of you and it only made it harder to breathe. It only made it harder to stand there and face him and say whatever the fuck it was you’d been putting off for that very reason.

If you don't do it now, you never will.

You wiped at your tears as best you could, trying to pull yourself together. “It hurts me,” you started. “Having you so close and yet so far constantly, it hurts me and I just can't do it anymore. And I don't want to wait until I resent you. I can't sit around waiting for that to happen. It'll kill me if I ever feel that way for you.”

Tears were now pouring down his face as he shook his head. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

If he said anything else, you could barely hear it above the racing of your heart in your chest and the dam breaking somewhere behind your eyes. It was like a tsunami when it came, folding you over until you slumped around yourself on the ground to let it wrack through your body. And he was there just as quickly, holding you despite the fact that he most certainly didn't have to. Clinging to you and his sorry's.

You weren't sure how much time passed as you sat there. You could hardly feel it ticking through your tears and a feeling that felt awfully close to regret. You couldn't feel the passage of the wind and the world beyond the strength of Josh's arms holding fast to your form, knowing that when he let go, he wouldn't have this opportunity again. It almost felt cruel, like a moment you should have had among many others but was stolen away from you all at once. So you basked in it. You bathed in it. You memorized his touch and his smell and the way it felt to be supported, even if you hadn't felt it in a while.

You had your reasons, you knew that. Had to remind yourself of it, even. But at the moment, you had nothing but him.

The tears always dried though. They always racked your body and stripped you of your strength and energy and when they vacated, just like they always did, you were left sitting, leaning against the wall of the hallway, in an almost daze-like state. Stuck in a limbo between sorrow and anger and humor. Every emotion you had seemed to sit at the edge of your being waiting for a moment to pounce in a state like this, and you were always left wondering what would take hold next.

Josh mimicked your movements, sitting opposite you like a mirror into what you probably looked like. And for a while, you sat in silence.

“I just want you to be happy,” he said after several moments. “That's all I've ever wanted.”

You nodded and sniffled, wiping your eyes and your nose with the back of your hand like a toddler.

“I know.”

“I mean it.”

I know.

You nodded again but this time when you spoke, your voice was even.

“I know.”

You tapped your fingers against your knee, butt going numb against the hardwood floor and eyes feeling stiff at the corners thanks to the dried tears accumulated there. And it was funny in a way that really wasn’t funny at all that as you sat there and stared at Josh silently, you couldn't help but think to yourself how beautiful he was.

Fucking twins.

“Does Jake make you happy?” Josh asked suddenly, studying your face.

The short answer was yes but the long answer?

‘He knows I'm not the answer’.

“I don't know,” you admitted. And you hoped he believed you when you said it because you really didn't.

You liked how he made you feel. You liked that he was there when no one else was. But was he the answer? You had no idea, actually. Maybe you wanted him to be more than he actually was. Or maybe, just maybe, you just liked having sex with him.

Ha. Well, that's at least some of it. Not that it matters anymore.

You were shamelessly giggling to yourself at the entirely humorless situation you found yourself in even before Josh joined in, bringing his hand to hide his mouth like he was in on the secret joke and attempting to keep it just that, a secret.

“You should probably decide before I have a chance to kill him.” And then after a moment, he added, “Well to be honest with you, I might just kill him anyway.”

You couldn't even explain why but that did you in, spurred a full on fit of laughter. And somehow, Josh found himself laughing right beside you.

Typical Josh. Always a bright spot. Even if it hurt him to be.

—

You hadn't left your house in days. Hadn't washed your sweatpants in as long either. The takeout boxes were certainly piling up too. And had you already finished off the last of your wine stockpile?

Gonna need to hit the grocery store soon. Or Instacart, at the very least.

And when your couch hadn't been occupied by friends spoon-feeding you whatever therapy you needed, be that advice or ice cream, you found yourself alone with more thoughts than you cared to deal with.

And one name in your mind that you avoided at all costs.

You hadn't even texted him that it was over. Hadn't called. Hadn't seen his face or heard his voice or even uttered his name. But God, you felt it, that ache. The longing. The familiar itch that he had scratched for you one too many times that now begged for nails to rake across it.

Relief. You wanted him. You maybe even needed him. That was what the emptiness had shown you. Whatever it was that he even was to you, you missed it. You craved it. But in your hour of need, he was the last thing available to you. And you were certainly stubborn enough not to chase.

Until you eventually weren’t stubborn enough.

You had no idea what had possessed you to rise from the couch that day, throw on a sweatshirt to shield you from the rain, grab your car keys, and drive to his place. You had no idea what possessed you to jump from your car and brave the violent sheets of rain that threatened to topple you as your fist made contact with his door a bit more angrily than maybe it should have. And you had no idea what had possessed you to do all of this just to say what it was you said.

Maybe I enjoy getting hurt.

You weren't invited in. In fact, you weren't even greeted with any words. He seemed breathless the moment he opened the door and his brain caught up with his eyes, whether that was thanks to your unruly appearance made all that much worse by the rain or simply the fact that you were the last person he expected to see standing on his porch after what he had said. After what you had done.

Probably should have run a brush through my hair before coming here.

And then you blurted it out.

“I ended it.”

The rain raged on in an angry war against you but you stood defiantly, like there was some ground there to hold. And maybe there was. It certainly felt like there was. If it wasn't the rain, it was his eyes, staring dangerously into yours and then, even without a single utterance from him still, you saw it. It was undeniable and unmissable.

Jake's eyes flickered down to your lips where they lingered for what felt like an eternity but in actuality was about two seconds. Two of the longest seconds you'd ever felt, waiting for someone to do something about it.

“I just thought you should know,” you added.

And then you left.

[skywarpie]

little devils - Dad Aether fic

Pairing: Papa Emeritus IV/Aether Ghoul

Rating: gen

tags: domestic fluff, house husband Aether/dad Aether finally getting attention from me bc I'm always ignoring him, half ghoul child OCs

Summary: The Impera tour has recently kicked off, only Aether isn't on this tour cycle. Instead, he's at the ministry working on their taxes and babysitting his kids.

Translations:

I mieli bambini! - My babies!

Babbo - Daddy

Poco sole - little sunshine.

words: 1,631

AO3 link

Aether lays stretched out on the floor with one arm folded under his chin. The other holding his phone. Originally there for the purpose of the game the girls had wanted to play but quickly lost interest in. Something that seemed to he happening recently these days.

“Are you calling babbo ?” Poppy asks as she wiggles herself under his arm holding the phone. Several red curls fall into her face and she pushes them away with the back of her tiny hand. Her tail wags lazily behind her as she looks up at him expectedly with eyes matching Copia's. 

“Hmm. What makes you ask that?” Aether takes the opportunity to tuck the curls she's still fighting with behind her small horns. 

“Because you aren't paying attention to us anymore.” Salem flops herself down on his back. Her tiny form is comical compared to Aether’s. Unlike her sister, her light blonde hair is tied loosely at the nap of her neck. A tiny paw reaching out for his phone, which he quickly moves from her grasp. “Hey!” She pouts and butts the back of his dead with her own horns. 

He chuckles, glad the both of them are now more comfortable presenting themselves without their glamors. Being part human had its perks, apparently. At barely a year old, the both of them had been able to glamorize themselves, something that sometimes even took a full blooded ghoul decades to perfect. While Aether was proud, Copia had been filled with panic, one moment holding a normal baby and the next holding a ghoul kit that wasn't aware they possessed very sharp horns. 

“Is this normal!? Should this be happening?!” 

Even four years later, Aether can still hear the panic in his mate and it’s just as amusing as day one. And although he'd never admit it, Aether knows he was much the same when they were in their human forms.

“And if I am?” He hums nonchalantly. 

“We want to talk to him!” They spout in unison, something that was very common for twins. At least according to Copia. Aether was still unsure about that though. 

He mocks offense. “What about me!?”

Poppy's brow furrows. “We're talking to you right now!”

“And because of that you can't keep doing it?”

Salem let's own a tiny growl over his shoulder that has him laughing. 

“Fine. Fine. You've twisted my arm. We'll call him.”

Both kits perk up, their ears jumping to attention as their tails wags furiously. It's incredibly enduring and Aether vaguely wonders when he became so domestic.

The three of them watch the tiny screen as it mirrors them while ringing. Copia's currently on the other side of the world, performing at various festivals and venues. But Aether has the timing down to a T. He should be done or just about done. If they're lucky, he's already back in his hotel room.

On the fifth ring, he picks up and his thick nasally mixture of Italian and American accents fills the room.

“I mieli bambini !“

“ Babbo !” 

The girls crowd around the screen, tails wagging even faster as they try to squeeze in as close as possible. 

Copia responds with exaggerated mwah's as he pretends to kiss the screen the same way he would their foreheads if he were there. “How have you been? Good girls for your daddy, I hope.” He arches a sculpted brow before looking playfully at his mate.

“They've been absolutely terrible. ” 

Aether watches as a look of alarm replaces Copia's excited one. 

“One minute they want to play one thing, the next minute I'm nothing but a jungle gym!” 

His expression softens and he laughs, glad it's nothing too serious. “Si. They seem to be good at that. Eh?” He flashes the twins a smile. It earns him a fit of giggles.

“How is touring?” 

Copia's demeanor changes once more. Only now it's one of exhaustion. “Tiring. I don't remember the last tour cycles being this..intense.”

“To be fair, the last tour cycle was nearly seven years and one pandemic ago. I think that checks out.” 

“I was also probably about thirty pounds lighter then too.” Copia's laugh is dry, a poor attempt at making it sound like a joke.

Aether remembers the last tour vividly. It's when he was christened as Papa Emeritus IV and was no longer Cardinal Copia. It'd been shortly after the end of that tour that they'd learned they were going to be parents. He remembers Copia frantically flitting about his office, trying to occupy himself with anything to create a distraction. Because the thought of two newborns and having to write a new album were definitely taking a toll on him mentally. Shortly after that the world had shut down and it almost seemed to work in his favor. The album was no longer a priority. 

It had taken several years for things to smooth back into place and it wasn't until this tour cycle, the Impera Tour, that they'd both realized it was either leaving the kits at the ministry or bringing them on tour with them. Copia had liked the second idea better. He'd barely been away from them longer than a day before, let alone months. There’d been a numerous amount of discussion until finally it was settled. Aether would remain at the ministry, keeping up with the paperwork Copia was undoubtedly still receiving while also taking care of Poppy and Salem. In return, Copia and the rest of the band (plus two new members) would go on tour.

“Babbo,” Poppy chimes in, “how many more tours till you come home?” 

“Ah,” now Copia sighs, “about a dozen more.” He frowns as their faces fall. “But it will be over in no time! They are scheduled back to back, remember?” He wags his finger in the air.

“How many days is that?” Salem is apparently having none of it.

“Eh, I'm  – I'm not sure, poco sole. ” 

It's not what she wants to hear. Her tail stops swaying. “That's not fair.” Her lip pouts out as her eyebrows scrunch together.

“Hey, hey, what did we say about pouting?” Aether takes the opportunity to roll her off his back.

“I don't care!”

“Crying isn't going to bring babbo home any sooner.”

She looks on the verge of tears and Copia takes the opportunity to interject. “Poco sole, babbo will be home in three weeks. Does that sound better?”

“We want you to come home now.” Poppy's sad features obscure the camera from her sister and father. 

“Ah, I know. I know. Babbo wishes he could be there now too. But I have to finish the tour. It's what helps our ministry grow!” 

Still unsatisfied with the answer, the twins seem to grow more agitated. Aether glances at the clock. “Hey, didn't Sunshine say she had a new flavor of ice cream for y'all to try?”

They gasp in unison, giggling and grabbing each other's hands as they race toward the door. Small shouts of bye echoing. 

“Aether!”

The ghoul turns back to the screen.

“They can't have ice cream without having eaten dinner first. See, this is why I didn't want to leave. It's chaos!”

Aether knows where this is going. Another spiraling incident. His mate seems to be having those a lot more recently. 

“I doubt one time will hurt. Besides, how I parent when you aren't here isn't a concern.” Copia gapes, mouth sputtering. “Now tell me, for real. How is the tour?”

That tired look crosses his face again. A hand runs through his hair while the Papa sighs. “I don't know, Aether. One minute I think it's going well and then the next I don't. Maybe I'm getting too old for this stuff.”

“Hip injury acting up?” The old ballet wound had forced him to walk with a cane for several years. Occasionally rearing its head.

“A bit. I think I just really miss home. Well, not home home but you guys. Eh, if that makes sense.”

“It does and we miss you too.” 

They settle into comfortable silence for a small time before Aether asks the burning question. “The new kids doing good?”

“Oh, fantastic! Aurora is a gem and Phantom plays beautifully only…”

“He's not me.”

“Si. He's not you.”

“You'll get used to it. Don't worry. Besides, in no time you'll be home and then you'll have me all to yourself.” A mischievous glint shines in his eyes. One that has a red dusting coating Copia's painted cheeks. 

An announcers voice cuts through the background as they mention the next band playing. Copia looks defeated as he sighs. 

“That's us. I'll talk to you tomorrow?”

“Or later tonight. You know those two little devils don't let anyone sleep longer than an hour or two.”

Copia laughs a genuine laugh, the first one of the call. 

They spend another minute or two telling the other bye until finally a crew member essentially yanks Copia from the phone and onto the stage. Aether chuckles as he tosses his phone to the side and stretches. A part of him is glad he isn't on tour. It's always nice but he truly has become a domesticated creature, now preferring the ministry over the stage.

He drags himself off the floor and stands, stretching again.

“ Daddy! ” The twins run in, shouting in unison. Each one latches onto a hand as they jump up and down. It's then that Aether sees the sticky ice cream drying all over their tiny mouths. Thank Lucifer Copia isn't here. He'd kill me.

“You have to try the ice cream!”

“It's the best!”

“Hm, is that right?”

“Uh-huh!”

He lets them lead him out and into the ghoul den’s small kitchenette. 

There's definitely no way any of them will be sleeping tonight.

[sirwadewilsonfromimgur]

Deadpool & Wolverine: Amber Crimson and Noir

Authors note: this chapter contains story elements from "When two murderous Canadian mercenaries love each other very much..." aka the James chapter as well as the plot point from Amber Crimson and Noir so far. Enjoy the thrilling conclusion of the Noir ark. I hope you've read them

Content warning... Violence/Tourtre

[Pess play on opening music below]

Ark finale

Vanessa

Kansas city Missouri Earth-10005 2031

Vanessa had moved into one of the spare bedrooms of Logan and Wade's condos about two months ago, Dermot had set up a desk in the corner of the generously sized room that had a sweeping view of crown center. He was happily working from home but definitely out of his element. Even in a large home, Logan, Wade, and Althea were strange, loud, and .... unique room mates.

Vanessa had lived with Wade in the past, so she was used to Wade's quarks. However he'd developed some new ones. For instance,

The floor to ceiling windows present in almost every room had blackout curtains that had to be closed before the sun went down... Wade would run from room to room, closing the curtains. If he wasn't home and he walked in and someone else hadn't done this task he'd freak out, yelling " it's 6 o'clock and winter why are the fucking curtains still open! He'd then proceeded to sprint around the house, closing them.

It was compulsive but not without justification, due to an incident. During the day, everything is fine. All the windows had been coated with a reflective film. You couldn't see inside unless your face was pressed up against a window. But at night, the lights inside illuminate and defeat this privacy.

A sniper had put several holes through the window... and Wade... honeymoon phase of moving to a new city was over.

And now they needed new windows.

Years later, Logan had grown tierd this nightly curtain nonsense and had mechanical curtains installed that automatically shut at sundown... this didn't stop Wade's patrol, making sure the mechanism hadn't broken and looking in all the rooms to check the curtainshad indeed closed. It was just quicker now. Years later, this did lead to one embarrassing moment for James in his teen years

Sorry, kitten! By the way, that's perfectly normal. No need to feel shame about it.

FUCKING KNOCK NEXT TIME DAD!

The process of replacing the windows was the last straw of Wade playing nice with the HOA of the tower. Maranda (fucking bigoted bitch) had pulled her typical stall tactics and nonsense as a board member during the first remodel of the house.

Wade, to expedite the process had broken into the board president's unit and sat in his bedroom. Waiting for him to get home.

When he turned up and walked in his room, there was Wade on his bed, pointing a gun at him.

Hay Ed! Is this a memory foam mattress because it is comfortable as fuck... I usually avoid them because so often Logan gets too excited and stabs be when he's stabbing me if you know what I mean. *wink* and its just sucks all the blood up and never comes out. We've gone through 4 mattresses this year alone.

Mr. Wilson... please don't shoot.

Oh, Ed... I'm not here to shoot you. Im here to make a deal....

Wade hands him a shoe box labeled fuck me pumps.

Sorry about the box had to improvise. Logan got me those for our anniversary... it's all he wanted me to wear that night. Such a romantic... anyway, inside that box is three hundred thousand dollars in non sequential one hundred dollar bills. All for you, on the condition that whatever I want to do, I fucking get to do it without push back from You fuck's. If I want to put a giant inflatable godzilla on the roof with anatomically accurate genitalia for Halloween the only thing I want to hear is "what day is good for you to get that started"

He was installing level 10 bullet proof glass on the entire 19th floor, and whatever other security measures he saw fit in the common hallway, and they weren't gonna say shit about it. To add motivation to the bribe. A nine millimeter bullet with their name neatly written on it was given to them.

Here. Take this, hide it. Throw it away. Hell, put it on your mantel... I don't give a shit. Because if I really need to, I'll find that exact bullet again... and I'll give it to you again only the next time it will be moving really, really fucking fast. So don't make me give it to you again.

He did this with a majority of members of the HOA board and hadn't had any problems since...

Logan had been a less openly dramatic roommate. He had been consumed by his work. how Wade sweet talked his way into convenienceing him that now was a great time to have a baby, Vanessa would never know. Though she did know that mouth of his was more than just talented at yapping and quiping.

I wonder if Logan ever got the plastic vampire teeth on Halloween.

She was trying to avoid him when he was working. She didn't want to bother him while he was holed up in the office. Besides, he was smoking like a chimney on a poorly insulated house during a January blizzard. The smell of his cigars currently nauseated her, not to mention the second-hand smoke wasn't good for the baby evenin a well vintalated room like the office.

Logan had recently taken on a lot of investigative work. Detective shit. Murders, kidnappings, missing persons. He'd told vanessa that he really wanted to branch out from just being just killer. Not that she'd ever held that against him.

Some of her best friends were mercenaries, vigilantes, and contract killers. Hell, even the nerds at the Xmen put quite a few people in the ground, and she liked the one's she'd met.

From her understanding Logan had actually been doing well, he wasn't just a bloodhound, which he literally was. He told her that the egg had taken and she was pregnant before any tests were done. Lucky, first try. It was something they had all worried about.

Sometimes surrogacy takes a couple tries before one sticks... there was a 25% chance of failure and that's normal at least thats what the blue fuzzy doctor told them after the procedure.

I wonder what else he can smell on me and is too polite to mention.

Logan was also a decent investigator in his own right, followed clues, and noticed things the cops missed. He'd found quite a few missing persons, runaways mostly. He did his due diligence and made sure without question they weren't being abused, and that's why they ran away before returning them to their families. He'd even helped break up a sex trafficking ring.

Vanessa knew the trouble didn't really start until Logan took the case of his friend Maxine. She was murdered and dumped like so much garbage and not treated much better by the police handling the case. Vanessa had actually met her once at one of the boys' parties.

She remembered her and her partner Dal being warm and jovial with her. Though she'd heard that they were just as fiery as Logan and Wade at times, the only difference being their fights resulted in significantly fewer stabings as persons without a healing factor. Apparently, her case had been a brick wall Logan just couldn't claw through.

Vanessa herself had been fairing the last 2 months decently... the morning sickness was an annoyance. She'd felt like she'd been moving past that stage though.

It was a relief mostly because Wade had gone full mother hen

Vanessa, sweetheart, you ok in there?

I can hear you yacking and heaving like when Wolvy gets one of his hairballs.

I'm fine, Wade.

Ok... I just... Fuck! OW!

Ouch! Stop stabbing me, Lo! We'll take you to the vet and get some Laxatone. Fucking ow bad kitty!

One thing was certain tonight, Vanessa was board. She hadn't left the condo in about a week to do anything, Wade was out shopping, and Logan hadn't left the office since 9 am. it was now 9 pm... Dermot had an upset stomach. He made the mistake of trying the Satan sauce Wade kept for chimichanga nights, or lunch's in this case. He was warned by her and Wade. But he wanted to be one of the boys...

She texted all 3 of them and let them know she was going to Missy Bs, the drag bar that was just down the street. Dirty Dorothy was hosting shows their again, so Vanessa was double encouraged to go out and alleviate her bordum, she'd get a soda and watch the show. Perhaps be back in time to warm up her dinner and watch whatever Korean drama or old show on streaming that Wade was currently fixated on before going to bed. She did specifically tell Wade not to wait up for her since she knew he'd start cooking the second he got home.

She had stopped by an ATM and got about two hundred dollars in 5 dollar bills, it was customary to tip the drag queens, and being a former exotic dancer herself, Vanessa knew how important it was to be generous with the entertainment. Nothing worse than literally shaking your ass off only to find a G-string full of bills that added up to about 35 buck... and there was always at least one asshole who you had to call the bouncers on because he tried to slip a quarter in there.

Vanessa was actually well off, officially retired. She was serious when she said she'd offer her services as a surrogate as a friend, but not for free. In the midwest, the number of dollars currently in her NBKC account would last her the rest of her natural life and then some... she told Dermot he could retire too. But he liked work. Definitely the kind of guy that if he didn't have a 9 to 5 to go to, he'd disappear into an easy chair and an early grave... Vanessa also suspected he had a little of that toxic masculine pride, cant ask your sugar mama for money. It'd gotten him into trouble, you can't out marksman Wade at the range, You can't out drink Logan and live... and as he recently learned. You can't out hot sauce either of them.

Silly boys *she chuckles to herself*

The ride share had dropped her off at the door. She was a little early for the show. She walked in, got a ginger ale, and quietly thanked god that they didn't allow public smoking indoors in Kansas city.

The show, as expected, was a loud and flamboyant good time. A lot of the queens were aslo funny as fuck on top of being on point with thier costumes. Vanessa didn't leave the show with a single five dollar bill, and to her, it was money well spent.

She headed to the bar to get one last Ginger ale for the road when she was approached by a woman...

Hey pretty lady, can I buy you a cocktail...

Oh, sorry, I'm not drinking tonight. Just getting a Ginger ale...

Oh, cheap date then. She winked as she ordered the soda and a Martini for herself.

I appreciate the drink, but I don't want to lead you on. I'm in a pretty committed relationship...

That's ok. Vanessa... felt disarmed as she said this... it was odd, like for no reason, her defenses were down... and it was ok, sure she'll have the drink.

I'm just out trying to make friends, you know. It can be kinda lonely...

Again, she didn't quit understand, but Vanessa suddenly felt a little lonely and wanted the company.

Vanessa chatted with the lady for a while. She was about to tell her she needed to go home.

If you're hungry, there's this place called Town Topic. Fantastic burgers, been there since the depression or some shit. Open 24 hours... we should go.

Vanessa wanting to tell her that perhaps another time, that she really need to go... but instead she found herself hungry, and agreeing to go with this lady. It was weird... she felt compelled. Next thing she knew she found herself getting in to this lady's car.

Ya know, it's been a long night... why don't you take a little nap... I'll wake you up when we get there

No sooner than it was said.... Vanessa was out like a light, snoring lightly in the passenger seat.

Logan had stepped out of the office. It was getting close to 11pm, long day of brooding, and he worked up an appetite. Wade and Al had eaten already... when he opened the fridge, he noticed two tinfoil covered plates.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end...

Has Vanessa not come home yet.

No penut, she's at the drag show...

Logan looks at the clock... the show ended a while ago, darl'n, I'm gonna text her.

she hadn't been gone that long.... she's a big girl papa, she can stay out past curfew if she wants.

No, it's not like that Wade.... Ive got a bad feeling... something is off.

Logan put his plate back in the fridge and walked to the bedroom. He quickly changed into his black and yellow combat suit. He walked back into the living room.

Peanut, what are you all dressed up for.

I'm going out to find Vanessa... she hasn't responded, I don't like this.

And you couldn't do that in your normal clothes?

I told you. I got a bad feeling, besides blood and Versace don't exactly pair well.

Oh, wrong again, Penut. Blood and Versace is the best paring.

Stay here, call me if she comes back...

Wolverine started at the obvious place, Missy B's. He thanked providence or whatever for trusting his instincts. He'd not been too late this time, Vanessas scent was still fresh and heavy. He was able to lach on to it and follow it out to the parking lot... he'd made his way to an empty spot when the trail lightened slightly... they had obviously taken her in a car...

Unfortunately Logan could not be afforded such luxury. In order to stay on the trail he'd have to be on foot.

thankfully, the fates again had shown favor. It was a still night, not even a lightbreeze. The scent was still fresh if a little less intense. Following his nose without regard for his safety, Wolverine walked out into the middle of southwest traffic way. Was certain that she'd been taken due east, and he bolted down West 39th Street running on all fours, looking like a yellow and black werewolf.

Eventually he found himself in the hyde park neighborhood of Kansas city.

When vanessa came too, her head was throbing, and the fluorescent lighting was not helping. She tried to move but she was shackled to a wall. Standing up right arms open... Wade would call it a T pose.

What Vanessa didn't know is that Cynthia Bragg had been escalating the degree of suffering she caused in her kills, she'd been killing less because she knew Logan was creeping around every corner. So now she economized her victims. Less opportunity meant not letting the one you had go to waste.

Vanessa was gagged... she could breathe, she could scream, but the sound would be so deadened that no one could possibly hear her in this basement... she wasn't scared so much as she was sad at her predicament. She new what would happen when the boys figured out she wasn't coming home... This wasn't Wade fault... but Vanessa knew he'd blame himself... and be devastated... double loss, her and the life that could be that she had inside her.... this was the worst possible end for her short life.

Her captor turned around, almost sensing Vanessa's waking.

Hello again... she smiled like a demon. You and I are going to have some fun... pretty lady...

I'd tell you to not be afraid, but you should... you should be terrified...

This statement didn't net Cynthia the response she'd hoped Vanessa just stared at her defiantly. Vanessa clearly had her wits about her now... not an unexpected circumstance... her powers of suggestion worked better when she could charm someone first. Disarm them.

Cynthia wordlessly presented a box... in it were needles of various gages, conditions, and sharpness... she slowly jammed and jabbed Vanessa up and down her arm, leaving some in, pulling some out. Rivulets of blood formed dripped and flowed. The pain was exquisite, Vanessa groaned but did not scream as she endured the pain of the dull one's ripping through her skin, looking very much the sick caricature of a cartoon Voodoo doll.

Unsatisfied with the results, Cynthia left Vanessa for a second and came back with a ball pein hammer and a gruesome looking masonry cut tempered hardened steel nail. The point of which is not that pointy... the was absolutely going to hurt.

Slowly, methodically, Cynthia slammed the nail into Vanessa's palm, all the while humming Ave Maria. the crucifixion Imagery clearly not lost on her.

Vanessa did not! Would not scream. She wouldn't give this Depraved hearted bitch the satisfaction as her hand was pinned to the wall, crushing nerves, tearing flesh.

Oh, a tough gal i see... we'll just have to up the anti.

She holds up the hammer an Vanessa's eye level and drops hammer on her foot.

Oops... well, since this doesn't seem to be working, we will try something else

Vanessa figured this was the end. Sure that cunt was gonna come back with a Bowie knife and slowly disembowel her.

On the journey of her life, she had a lot of regrets. Also, at the moment, she was in incredible pain. She mourned for herself almost as much as she mourned the fetus inside her.

Wade would be devastated, he'd lose his best friend and his future baby all in one horrid act... these thoughts, the pain... the frustration of being unable to defend herself. She was so sick of being the fucking damsel in distress. She thought... only this time she was going to fucking die. She wasn't going to be saved. She didn't see how. The pain and despair began to consume her.

All of it came to a head, she was in the darkest spot, of the worst day of her life, and that was saying something...

Then suddenly... Her skin flashes blue for a second... she feels... different. Unknown to her until just now... Vanessa had been a mutant in her own right. The stress, worry, and pain of this moment brought it out of dormancy. She didn't know how she knew, but she knew she could transform, shape shift. And not just skin deep like Mystique, she could copy bilogy and abilities.

Well shit, this could have been handy with fucking Francis... she thought to herself... think quick Vanessa how do we use this to get out of here. She wasn't sure how to harness her abilities, but she had to be a quick study if she wanted to live.

What could she be that'd get her out of these shackles and get the nail out of her hand... that's it! That one guy Logan and Wade, always banged when they were in New York. Kevin... (Wade tells her fucking everything) but more importantly she met him once, what was is Xmen name.... fuck it was hard to think clearly with several inches of galvanized steel in your hand.... Morph, she said a small prayer to a god she doubted existed. Keep the baby safe while I do this. She struggles through the pain she concentrates and transforms into a grey skinned being sliding her hand up and off the nail and warping her arms through the shackles quietly.

Cynthia was looking at her toolbox of tourtre devices totally engrossed in her maniacal thoughts, looking for the perfect toy to satisfy her vile lust. She hadn't noticed Vanessa slip free.

Vanessa stealthy as she could carefully picked up the ball-pein hammer that was dropped.

What did Wade always tell her

When you have the opportunity, always go for the headshot.

Cynthia had settled on the end of a frog gig fork and was about to get back to her dark hobby when she felt a sharp pain in the back of her head... and then nothing

Vanessa was spatterd in gore by the time she heard the loud bang from upstairs...

Wolverine had kicked in the door of the house, he'd made his way to the basement to a scene that shocked and immediately relieved him covered in blood holding a hammer dripping in a visceral liquid of brains, blood with a tangle of hair... Vanessa had not stopped when Cynthia hit the ground. The back of her head looked like a grenade went off in it. She turned to Wolverine. Dropped the hammer on the corpse and walked towards Logan...

Ooops *she Sneered*

Vanessa, I'm so sorry... I was late, I... I...

Vanessa grabbed the man dressed in yellow and black and hugged him tightly

It's ok, you're here, Im alive... also, you and Wade never have to worry about being late or saving me again... Vanessa Carlysle can save herself.

She took a step back and held up her arm... it transformed into a familiar looking muscular arm, and *Snikt* three bone claws popped out.

FUCK THAT HURTS! HOW THE FUCK DO YOU DO THAT ALL THE TIME!

Logan chuckles, tell me about it, sister. Looks like you've discovered your gifts...

Why aren't mine metal?

That's a long story I'll tell you later... I'm gonna call Wade.

Not the police....

No.

Logan looked around the room, the blood and gore of the scene was bad... first, the defense for justifiable homicide in self-defense in Missouri requires that you stop after the assailant is stopped/disarmed/disabled. You can't shoot someone in the chest and then go for the headshot after they're already on the ground... you can't pummel a hole in the back of someones head after you've knocked them out. It ceases to be self-defense.

There's a chance Vanessa could be charged with manslaughter at a minimum if the prosecutor was feeling frisky... and Logan, who's had bad feelings all night, had a bad feeling about calling the cops.

Logan was able to pin the address address in his phone and send Wade the address. Craftsman style home in Hyde park much like the ones around it.

He'll be her as soon as a ride share pics him up...

Vanessa trying to not think about her trauma...

Why the fuck do you guys not have a car yet... you're gonna need one when the baby gets here, what if they get a fever and you gotta run to the ER, you gonna wait for a car?

Logan choked back a little emotion as he realized how close he came to losing his best friend, his baby, and probably Wade, who would have never recovered.

We need to... but that's Wade... Missouri counties treat cars as real estate. You have to pay taxes on them annually based on assessed value. He's weirdly libertarian about that one thing. Lord knows he jumps through hoops to keep the IRS paid and off our back.

That is fucking weird...

That's fucking Wade... and we both know what thats like

(Meanwhile, just beyond the vail)

Are they really discussing local tax policy over my corpse...

I've seen weirder scenes.

Who the fuck are you?

Some folks call me Azrael, Yama, Shinigam, La Calavera Catrina, Vanth, Ankou, Anubis, and Osiris... though I have one friend who calls me Lady Death. I'm partial to THE Green Witch lately... she says this as she produces a flower and hands it to Cynthia

Oh... ok, she looks at her closer. I liked your work in Parks and rec by the way

Aubrey Plaza looked like her. Not the other way around, Lady Death had this face for centuries, and it was one of her preferred aspects. She thought this as her charge spoke again.

So... am I going to Hell.

The afterlife is kinda what you make it... or so I've been told. I'm just here to keep you from haunting the place. I've only seen the door and shown people in... speaking of. It's Time Cynthia Bragg.

So God doesn't care?

Oh... I've never met the Architect, the being closest to what you'd call God... and I don't really know what they think about morality or other complex questions that I'm certain you want to ask. but unfortunately, i don't have a lot of the answers and even less time.

Ok, one more question... whay are you being so nice... I was a monster [she said this with suddenly gained post-life clarity]

It's not my job to punish, also as they say. You catch more flies with honey.

Or corpses... files are attracted to corpses.

Indeed, come now. It's really time to go now.

(We return to the full material plane)

Vanessa and Logan had taken the opportunity to go through the house, what they had discovered was shocking and created more problems.... Cynthia was a cop... Logan actually knew her. He hadn't recognized her for obvious reasons when he first walked in... Secondly, in her office, he'd discovered her second pet project beside murder. Him, and Wade... and MFM. She'd been doing her own legs work tying all of them to organized crime, contracts they had agreed to. Interpol reports and illicit weapons purchases...

It killed his soul... but Logan could not report any of this for sure now... this crime scene, this evidence. For their safety, it had to disappear. Wade had walked into the office when he came to this conclusion.

What's up in here, Penut?

We got big problems, Princess. Call Peter... we need the cleaner.

The cleaner was actually an employee of MFM at this point, an anti-forensic expert he could wipe a crime scene...

He was there within the hour, was briefed on the situation, and came up with a game plan... all four of them suited up in hazmat suits he'd brought and proceeded to clean.

Free advice to any would be assassins...

Clean all visible evidence of blood with high concentration peroxide, not bleach. This will destroy all genetic material and clean the area. Secondly, treat the area with sodium percarbonate... this chemical defeats luminol/BlueStar Forensic, the room may be suspicious to the well experienced investor... but investigators have to convenience jurys made up of common folks who expect "CSI" evidence to be presented, and when it's not, the argument fails. Investigators know this. it's how many cases get relegated to the cold case archives.

The body was wrapped and put in Cynthias' car. Both would disappear without a trace. The house was cleaned and wiped of any evidence of anyone ever being there. Logan had found all the evidence against him and Wade and loded it in the cleaner's car. He and Wade would take it to the safe house in Liberty while the cleaner delt with Cynthias car... He also found evidence of Cynthias' own crimes... her trophys... he packed these too.

By the time Cynthia was reported missing, they were all long gone... the house looked spotless, as if nothing was ever out of place yet lived in. Reports from neighbors stated that they had seen her the day prior. They didn't see her drive off that night to go to the bar, and perhaps Cynthia herself had something to do with that, not wantingher neighborsto see when she had "guests"...

To them, it looked like she'd got in her car that night some time after dark drove off and just never came home.

5 days later

Logan called Dal, he'd ask her to come to the house. She arrived an hour later... he met her at the door; escorted her to the office poured her a glass of the best scotch he had on hand, a Sherry Oak 25 Year old Macallan.

He set the glass in front of her...

If you don't like your scotch neat, I can go to the kitchen and get you some ice... though some would call that an insult to the alcohol. I won't judge.

This is fine Logan... she sips the scotch.

Why'd you have me over. You were very insistent...

I solved Maxine's murder... That's the good news..........

That pause is 8 months pregnant buddy. What's the bad news.

You're the only person that can know. The suspect met an end that would implicate someone that's important to me, and frankly, covering it up was the better option... professionally. Dal... Maxines killer was a Cop. She's dead... and will probably be assumed missing. My team will have made it look like she skipped town for unknown reasons...

Your... team... implications... cover ups.

Logan I thought you were a fucking detective.

Fuck... I'll level with you, Dal... I wasn't 100% honest with you when I told you what Wade and I did for a living... I am a licensed private investigator, and on paper, that's what I do... poorly... apparently, I'm a mercenary... a contract killer. That's our bread and butter. The P.I. shit is just a cover. But just once I wanted to do something, I wanted to help...

Dal reach over and opened the Humidor on Logans desk.

May I?

Sure.

She pulled out an Opus X, carefully cut the end off the same way she'd seen Logan do a hundred times, grabbed the small blowtorch like lighter and lit her cigar. Logan went over to the wall and flipped on the rooms air filter system.

Logan... sware on your unborn child's life! the person that killed Maxine is dead, and you're 100 percent sure that was her killer...

Logan walked over to a banker box against the wall and grabbed it.

I went through the house, I found the sick fuckers trophy collection. I found these... Logan pulled out a pair of underwear... genetic evidence suggests they belonged to Maxine (this was bullshit, no lab analysis was done on them, the truth is Logan could still smell Maxine's scent strongly on them. They'd been kept in a plastic zipper bag... but Logan didn't want Dal to think he had the impropriety of a "panty sniffer" today was weird enough she didn't need that.) Maxine's killer is dead and what's left of them is probably at the bottom of the Missouri river.

She took a big swig from he scotch and puffed her cigar.

If we're being honest Logan, for me... it was a job well done. Did maxines killer suffer?

I'm not sure. I couldn't have been pleasant.

Good! Fuck'um! Logan i'll be honest had you brought them in I would have smuggled a gun in to court and shot them myself... I don't know if I was ever interested in justice. Revenge; That I can handle... detective or hitman, though... I hope that pro bono offer still holds up...

Logan chuckles lightly You couldn't afford it if it weren't.

She kissed him on the cheek. Thank you Logan... I'll see you and Wade later... I've got things to do.

Bitter sweet for Logan... he was glad that the results worked for Dal...

But for him, this was one of his biggest failures. Having to cover up Cynthia's death meant a significant number of families would go without the closure that Dal now had.

Had he'd been a moment sooner, he could have saved Vanessa and taken Cynthia Bragg in. Damn the evidence she had on us.

We could have picked up and started somewhere else. Fuck we came here on a whim, why not.

Too late now. He packed all the cold case files, the evidence recovered, took them, and buried them in the deepest part of the storage room.

He was stacking boxing and holding in his emotions, trying not to feel the devastation and failure in his chest... Wade was standing in the door...

After all these years, Peanut... I think i can sense whenever you're not doing good. You want to talk to me about it?

I spent the better part of a year running in to a wall trying to solve this case. To do it the right way! To bring that fucker to justice.

But you did get her...

Vanessa "got" her Wade! I was late!

She's dead, though. She can't hurt anyone else. The city is freed from a killer who terrorizing the community. Not just the community, our friends.

At what cost...

We're soldiers, Wade. You know damn well that Pyrrhic victories don't count for shit!

Logan grabbed Wade, held him close... and did something that shocked Wade... he cried, guilt and failure for once didn't manifest as rage...

Oh... Penut. Im so sorry, I didn't realize it was like that.

I think I'm done solve'n crimes... I should stick to what I'm good at. Killing.

No, babe... don't say that. You've solved murders, found kidnapped children... you've done great things... this... this is just a setback.

It's a big one, Wade. I haven't felt quite like this... well, since I got to this world.

Wade knew what Logan was alluding to.

Tonight, it'd be Wade holding Logan together. Riding the storm of emotion out. He'd do it gladly, anything for the man whom held him together these last 7 years. His rock, his anchor being.

All the cold case files tied to Cynthia Bragg, knowing he couldn't bring peace to those families. He put them in a box and placed them as far back in the storage room as he could.

Epilogue:

Late July, Friday night, 18th and Vine... the jazz district of Kansas City... Logan and Wade dressed in suits of a color more muted than Wade normally would have worn black with pinstripe and slate grey, respectively. They walked into the Blue Room Jazz club, and following behind them was Dermot in a Tuxido, the only suit he had brought with him from New York and Vanessa who was in a black sequined dress tight but classy it had a plunging neck line accented with a necklace.

The platnum chain was set with white diamond, rubys, and citrine. The pendant was a large Tanzanite in brilliant cut about the size of a half dollar. It flashed blue or purple depending on how you looked at it. It was a gift from the boys to express gratitude for the greatest gift Vanessa had given them... a son. James was born on July first, a happy health baby boy.

They'd all been obsessed with the child and his care. Wade was a dutiful father unafraid of soiled diapers or the spit up that occasionally happened when he fed the boy... however, that morning at breakfast, Althea had enough.

Listen fuckers! It's time for a family meeting. You dumb bastards are going out tonight, and I don't wanna hear any guff. I'm a blind woman but I can cook and care for myself so I can handle a fucking baby for a few hours. None of yall have left this house in almost a month and I'm fucking sick of hearing you! So figure out where the fuck your going because come 8 o clock better not be a fucking one of you in this house!

Althea was salty but they agreed she was right. They settled in to there table ordered cocktails and waited for the show.

So Ness, since you've had an opportunity to flex your powers a little more, are you gonna go back to New York and join the X-men [cough] dorks [cough]

Logan elbowed Wade in the ribs. Are you calling me a dork bub?

Of course not sweetheart sides you ain't an Xman anymore.

Vanessa laughing. No, I don't think I'll be joining that club... besides, can you imagine me on a mission and Scott calling me by some goofy code name... like what Copycat? Because I can copy people?

I suppose all the good names are taken

Right!? No, I don't think I'll be doing that. Besides, we got a little announcement... Dermot and I aren't going back to New York. We've decided to stay here.

Oh, that's fantastic! Lo you here that? We're going to save so much money on jet fuel!

I'm happy to hear it.

We've actually already done some house hunting online. We're gonna go to some open houses in Liberty and Blue Springs next week. If we like what we see, we'll make an offer.

Well, I will say it's been great having you and Dermot as roommates. I'm thrilled you won't be far.

Let us know if you need help with anything.

And the night wore on. The friends discussed future plans, he drinks came. They tosted to new beginnings and the company of good friends.

The show started, and the music played, and the credits roll.

The End

[ihatemakingusernames]

She had been gaining slowly... steadily... For awhile now. She seemed to want to hide her new belly, larger chest, pillowy arms, and soft hips but what she couldn't hide is how much she loved to eat. Her face would light up at the thought of food, you could see how it's inviting scent caused her pleasure, and the taste... Oh the taste... She would sway to it almost as if the flavors were a symphony on her tongue.

She and I had been friends for years. I knew she had an appetite before, but the pounds had been kept at bay by her vigorous zeal for the gym. Unfortunately though, she had just gone through a rough breakup and as any good friend would, I strongly encouraged her to take care of her broken heart by staying home and binging movies and snacks.

What I didn't expect was for her to still be binging without exercise 6 months later. All her clothes had gotten tight, almost embarrassingly so. You could hear the seams of her jeans screaming as she sat down, and at every meal she desperately tried to prevent her snug shirts from rolling up to her tits as her gut expanded.

She was very shy and clearly embarrassed of her new size but she was also not planning to stop gorging herself... And packing on the pounds... Any time soon. I couldn't lie, I always thought she was gorgeous but her softening frame just made her even more beautiful. She would catch me looking at her as she ate and blush deeply trying to hide that she had noticed.

I was fine with our relationship continuing as it had, just friends. I had no intention of telling her how sexy she had become since gaining all that weight... Or how night after sleepless night I dreamed of stuffing her until she was temporarily immobile; her beautiful, fat, greedy face panting at just how full I had made her.

Until one day, she had gotten a little too gluttonous at lunch. She had nearly gotten stuck in the booth before we even ordered and after, her pants button finally gave in and launched across the restaurant into some poor man's soup.

She hurried outside as fast as the lard coated logs she called legs could carry her. She was sweating, panting, and completely red faced by the time we got in the car. She was stunning. I couldn't help myself, I couldn't hold in my lust any longer. I leaned over, grabbed that fat, distended gut, and kissed her icing glazed lips passionately.

I could tell she was surprised but, I could feel her melt into my kiss and let out tiny muffled moans at my touch. Her hands began to trace my body, reserved at first but then with reckless abandon.

I pulled back and looked into her eyes:

"My my, greedy little piggy is just as horny as she is hungry, isn't she?"

Her hips bucked as a loud moan escaped her pouting lips.

"Dirty, slutty, gluttonous girl loves her new fat body, doesn't she? Is that why your gym membership has been gathering dust, fatass? You want to get bigger, don't you"

She nodded, eagerly, double chin jiggling furiously at the movement.

"Oh my pretty little pet, you've done such a good job growing this huge lardy body, but now that I know you love it as much as I do, you're going to get really really fat. You may have just eaten the whole menu at this restaurant but, there's several drive thrus on the way back to my place, and you're going to show me just how much of a fucking hog you can really be. Now oink for me lardass, and get ready to be fucking stuffed within an inch of your life."

[vodika-vibes]

A Different Kind of Happily Ever After

Summary: Seven years after you're exiled from your home world due to the actions of other people, you've made a good life for yourself. You have a new name, a new family, and you don't think about the world you were forced to leave behind. Until, suddenly, you no longer have a choice.

Pairing: Pre-Commander Wolffe x F!Reader (Named Winter)

Word Count: 3069

Warnings: Reader is/was Snow White. Reader now goes by the name Winter.

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: This will probably have several other parts, since I like the idea behind it.

Your hands shake as you clutch your fine leather book to your chest. This is your book. The book you were assigned when you were an infant. The book that determined what your name was and what path you were destined to walk in life. 

Your grip tightens around the book, and you absently trace the apple etched onto the front of the book as you try to settle your nerves.

You don’t understand.

It makes no sense.

You followed your book to the letter. 

You suffered. You were hunted. You allowed your step-mother to poison you. You met your Prince Charming and he saved you from your eternal slumber-

And yet-

And yet.

The door to the room you’ve been locked in for hours finally opens, and you shudder as the Lorekeeper walks in. He gazes at you through darkened eyes, and you duck your head to try and avoid his judgemental gaze.

You haven’t done anything wrong!

“My apologies for keeping you waiting, while I looked into this fiasco.” The Lorekeeper seems to glide across the room and settles in the chair across from where you are sitting. “I’m sure you must be confused and frightened.”

“Yes sir,” You whisper, but you can’t help but notice that he hasn’t used your name once since he entered the room.

The man nods, “Then let me begin with what I know.” He folds his hands on his desk, “You took a bite of a poisoned apple, as your story dictates, and fell into an enchanted slumber. Prince Charming came and woke you up, as his story goes. Is this correct?”

You nod mutely.

“Very good. The problem comes in after that. You were meant to go with Prince Charming to his kingdom, where you and he would marry and have your happily ever after. However, Prince Charming broke his story, and instead elected to abandon you in the forest.”

Your knuckles are white, with how tightly you’re holding onto your book. “That’s also correct.” You say finally, after the silence in the room becomes deafening.

“Prince Charming has since married another woman and has claimed that he is her Prince Charming,” The Lorekeeper leans back in his chair, “And after some digging, it appears that he is correct. Which begs the question, what happens to you?”

You lift your gaze, and can feel any color in your face drain at the look on the Lorekeepers face, “Sir?”

“You are no longer Snow White. You don’t have a story,” He almost sounds apologetic, though his eyes are colder than ice, “Which means that you cannot stay here.”

Panic seizes you, “What! But this is my home!”

“Enough.” He doesn’t raise his voice, but you flinch back as though he just brandished a blade at you, “This is not a negotiation. You cannot remain here without a book.”

“But…what will happen to me? Where will I go?” You ask.

“I have made arrangements for a shuttle to bring you to the station above the planet, and I have also made arrangements for you to get a one way flight to Coruscant.”

“I-”

“We live a blessed life here,” The Lorekeeper interrupts, “Untroubled by the horrors of the galaxy, and I freely admit that our education is lacking. So you will spend a month on a space station catching up on everything you need to know about the larger galaxy-”

You surge to your feet, “I’m 14!” You shout, “I’m still legally a minor everywhere! You can’t-”

The Lorekeeper turns to look at you, and your words die on your tongue, “I have been generous up until this point, Nameless one.” He says quietly, “Raise your voice to me again, and you won’t be leaving my office.”

You fall back into your seat, and the Lorekeeper nods. He circles his desk and rips your book from your hands, before he tosses it into the fireplace. The thin pages of the book cut your fingers open, and you stare at the blood welling up on the tips of your fingers.

“You will need a new name, you are no longer Snow White.” The Lorekeeper continues as if he hadn’t just threatened you, “My attendants will be with you shortly to deal with the appearance problem-”

“...appearance problem?”

“Snow White has skin as white as snow, hair the color of ebony, and lips the color of an apple.” The Lorekeeper says emotionlessly, “You are no longer Snow White, so you can’t look like that anymore. You needn’t worry. It’s a painless procedure.”

“How am I supposed to survive on my own?” You ask.

The Lorekeeper stares at you as his office door opens and three figures glide in. “That is no longer my concern.” He turns to the figures, which you suddenly realize truly are formless. They look like walking dolls, with no hair or discernible features at all. “Take her. Give her some control over her appearance, but ensure that she no longer looks like Snow White.”

The figures bow, and you’re ushered out of the room before you really know what’s happening.

They sweep you into a clean room, and silently strap you to a hospital bed. And no matter how hard you try, you’re unable to pull yourself free. The figures inject you with something, and the last thing you remember before you slip into merciful, blissful darkness, and the faceless figures looming over you.

“There you are!”

You look up from where you’re crouching in a flower bed, and glance at one of your many coworkers. This specific coworker, a Nautolan who is in charge of ensuring that the water is safe to use on the plants, is a friend. His name is Zakon, and you and he were raised in the same Foster home until you both aged out of the system.

“Hey, Zak.” You reply, “Something wrong?”

“Yes! That absolute hag of a woman, Karien, brought in apple turnovers for her Name day, even though she knows that you’re allergic.” Zak rages.

You roll your eyes, “You know as well as I do that I don’t eat things that other people bring in for that very reason. It’s nothing to be upset about.”

“I’m still upset.” Zak replies.

“You’re so sensitive, brother mine.” You say with a laugh, as you straighten and brush the dirt off of your hands, “Anyway, have you heard from mom recently?”

“Yeah. She wanted to know if I was going to come to little Jay’s birthday party. I told her it depends on if I have to work or not.” Zak replies, “I’m guessing she asked you too?”

“Yeah. I told her I wouldn’t be going. I was slated to be a tour guide for a local elementary school on that day.” You flash a wry smile, “Needless to say, mom was not thrilled about that.”

“I’m not sure why she wants you there at all. No offense, Winter, but you’re not exactly her favorite child.” Zak grins, “Probably because you named yourself a season and didn’t let mom name you.”

“Okay, look-” You say as you set your hands on your hips, “Summer and Autumn are proper names, who says Winter can’t be a name too?” And then you fold your arms, “Besides, I wasn’t about to let anyone else name me, what if they decide to take my name back?”

“Girl, you have issues. Names aren’t like name day presents, they can’t be taken back.” Zak says dryly. It’s a conversation the pair of you have had many times, and it’s something that you’ve never been able to agree on.

“You do realize that Name Day presents aren’t supposed to be taken back, right? Like, that’s only something our foster parents do.” You point out, “Also, that plant you’re about to lean against will give you a rash if you touch it.”

Zak swears and jumps off the stone wall, “Why didn’t you warn me?!”

“I just did.” You roll your eyes, “Relax, you didn’t touch it.”

“But I might have!”

You roll your eyes again.

It’s been seven years since the day you were exiled from your home. And you like to think that you’ve adjusted nicely to life in the wider galaxy. You have a family and you have friends, and you even managed to go to college and get a degree.

You have a nice job, working at the Botanical garden on Coruscant, and you get paid very well for your time and effort. 

Of course, not everything is perfect.

You found out, only after you left home, that you developed a severe allergy to apples. Severe enough, in fact, that the first time your foster mother made an apple pie, you ended up in the ICU for three days while the doctors tried to save your life.

And, of course, there’s the fact that even after seven years, you still get surprised when you look at yourself in the mirror. The Lorekeeper’s attendants hadn’t changed as much as you feared they might have. Well, your face is the same shape, at least.

Really, all they did was darken your skin several shades away from the alabaster that you were born with, and lighten your hair from black to dark brown.

It could have been so much worse.

Maybe if you keep repeating that to yourself, you’ll someday believe it.

“-llooo? Coruscant to Winter!”

You smack Zak’s hand away from your face as he pokes your cheek, “Why are you touching me?”

“You zoned out to Lala Land, I was just trying to return you to the real world.” Zak replies with a grin.

“You mean the real world where we have a Chancellor who’s been leading for a lot longer than his term limit and the fact that we’re at war? That real world?”

“Wow, you’re such a downer sometimes.”

“Mm. Love democracy. Especially when it’s fake democracy-” You say lazily.

“Wait, aren’t you from a Monarchy?”

“We’re not talking about me. But yes, I am.” You glare at him, “But that’s a stupid way to govern too.”

“Aww,” Zak squishes your cheeks with his hands, “You’re such an adorable little anarchist.”

You swat his hands away, “Don’t you have work to do?”

“Yep. I need to go and check the water levels near the water plants,” Zak says cheerfully, “Do you?”

You scowl at him, “There’s some kind of parasite eating some of the Nubian plants, so I need to go to the lab and talk to the scientists.”

“Mm, your job is so fun,” Zak says as he makes a face. “Parasites.”

You bump him with your shoulder, “Go away, Zak.”

He laughs and turns towards the water exhibits, “Oh! I almost forgot!” He says a moment later, “Kam wants to know if you’re coming to dinner this weekend? He’s making some sort of fish dinner.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” You call back.

“Awesome! Kam will be thrilled! I swear, he likes you more than me.”

You scoff, “Please, he married you. I’m just the only sibling you have who isn’t homophobic.”

Zak grins, “I’ll get them to chill out eventually.”

You shake your head with a sigh, “So you say, Zak. So you say.” You wave and take the narrow path that leads to the lab. You push the door open, and walk the familiar halls until you reach one of the scientists.

“What’s wrong?” The woman asks without looking up from her microscope.

“There’s some kind of parasite attacking Nubian plants.” You reply as you set a sample container on the table, “Just the Nubian plants, though. It’s not touching any of the other plants in the same area.”

“Hm…” The scientist takes the bottle and looks at it, “Strange. I’ll take a look, reach out to our counterparts on Naboo, they might have an answer. Thanks.”

“Yeah, just let me know what needs to be done.” But the woman isn’t paying attention to you anymore. You shake your head and leave the lab as quickly as you arrived.

With that done, and with nothing else on your schedule for another few hours, you decide to leave the botanical gardens to grab your lunch. There’s a nice little deli not far from the gardens that has the best sandwiches, and they’re not super expensive either. 

So you clock out, and leave out the side entrance to make the short walk to the deli. And, since it’s a nice day, you also consider eating your lunch outside at the deli, rather than bringing it back to work.

As you approach the deli, you make a face when you see how busy it is, but since you have time, you decide to just stand in line behind a Kel Dor Jedi and one of the clones from the GAR.

You feel for the clones. All of them.

Having your whole life planned out from the moment you’re born is twisted and wrong.

It took you a long time to come to terms with that.

You wish you could do something to help them, but…well, it’s not like you’re a soldier or a politician. You’re a botanist. And no botanist has ever saved anyone.

Hell, you weren’t even able to save yourself.

And while you’ve come to accept that there’s nothing shameful about needing to be saved, it doesn’t do anything to help the clones.

So, while you burn with the injustice and unfairness of the lives of the clones, you say nothing. 

You’re vaguely aware of the Jedi and his Commander chatting quietly, but you aren’t really listening to them until you hear a familiar name.

“I’ve never heard of the planet Castus,” The clone says, a frown on his face, “What do you know about it, General?”

“Not much, I’m afraid.” The Jedi replies, “Castus isn’t a Republic world, but it’s not a Separatist world either. As I understand it, they are vehemently insular.”

“And yet someone from Castus reached out to the Order?”

“Just so. They want a member of the order to visit the planet to help with something-”

“You’ll never be allowed to land,” You interrupt without meaning to, and your face heats when two pairs of eyes turn towards you, but you continue anyway, “On Castus. You’ll never be allowed to land.”

“They requested aid-” The Jedi says in a very soothing voice.

“The Lorekeeper would never.” You say bluntly, “And only the Lorekeeper is allowed to communicate with the outside.”

“General?”

“The person who contacted the Jedi did not claim to be this Lorekeeper.”

“Then whoever they are is trying to set you up.” You absently twist some hair between your fingers, “Outsiders are forbidden from entering Castus. You’ll ruin too many stories.” You didn’t mean to sound bitter about that, but really, you can’t help it.

“And how would you know anything about Castus if outsiders aren’t allowed?” The Clone asks as he turns to face you fully. His armor is white and gray, and he has a cybernetic eye. He’s handsome in spite of the scar on his face.

“Because I was exiled from Castus when I was 14.”

The Jedi turned to you fully this time, “Forgive me, but what crime could a child of 14 have committed to deserve exile?”

You shrug, uncomfortable, “My story ended up broken because of someone else involved in my story. And because of that I lost my name, my title, my home, and my appearance.” You pause, “The Lorekeeper made arrangements for me to get a very quick education on the station around the planet, and he paid for a one way ticket here, but after that I was on my own.”

“You were a kid.” The Jedi says with a frown.

“Yeah. It took less than an hour for the authorities to realize that I was an abandoned kid, and I was shoved into Foster care immediately.” You shrug again, “Anyway. Someone’s trying to set you up. The Lorekeeper definitely didn’t call you.”

The two men share a look, and then the Jedi turns back to you, “My name is Plo Koon, and this is my Commander, Wolffe. What’s your name, my dear?”

“Oh, ah…I’m Winter.”

“Winter? Like the season?” Wolffe asks.

You scowl at him, “Wolf, like the animal?”

He blinks at you, surprised, and then a smirk lifts the corner of his lips, “I thought nat borns had normal names.”

“If people can be named Summer and Autumn then I can definitely be called Winter!”

Plo clears his throat, “Children, please behave.” 

“Sorry, General.” Wolffe says sheepishly as he rubs the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I wasn’t trying to pick a fight.” You say.

“It’s quite alright,” He smiles at the pair of you, and you get the feeling that something about the situation is amusing him, “Miss Winter, would you be willing to come to the Jedi Temple and tell us about Castus?”

“Er…If you want?” You push your hand through your hair, “I mean, I have to go back to work in a couple of hours-”

“I’m sure I can make arrangements with your boss to steal you for the rest of the day,” Master Koon says peacefully, “With your permission?”

“Oh, uh…well if you think it’s important.” You say slowly, “But I’m not sure how much help I’m going to be.”

“Well, right now we know nothing about Castus, so any information is better than walking in blind.” Wolffe points out.

“Just so, Commander.” Master Koon says warmly, “I need to make a few calls to get this started. Commander, feel free to order as much as you like-”

“I can’t ask you to pay for me, General-”

“Then I’ll pay for you.” You interject smoothly, “I’m starving and I make enough to pay for us both.”

Wolffe stares at you, and then he sighs, “Fine. If you really want to pay for me, then I suppose I can’t argue.”

“No, you can’t.” You lightly push him back into line, and you’re vaguely aware of Master Koon chuckling behind you as he steps out of the deli, already pulling his comm out of his pocket.

And as anxious as you are, you never wanted to think about Castus again, or to tell anyone about the life you lived while on Castus, you know that you’ll do it because it’s important. 

After all, you said that you wanted to help the clones, right?

[staticymaticyyourlifeisatravesty]

The Severed

(Lilith tries to deal with all that's happened since her return)

Tags: Limb loss, discussion of death, angst, avoidance of family, mention of death, Violence

Cary and Zadkiel belong to @sorormaior and @jaghatai-khock respectively

Cary took a deep breath and closed the door behind them. It'd been difficult to see Zadkiel like that, without his wings...and the way he was talking...it was like he'd given up. At least he was asleep now...

A warm presence approaching alerted them to the approach of Lilith who looked more then a little concerned. She was different then how Cary remembered her, older yet with the same youthful face she'd had ten thousand years ago. She smiled less, they'd noticed. It made sense as to why, but it still made them sad because they remembered how she used to smile, especially around Mircalla. They were sweet together those two, even if Cary was convinced that it would cause some sort of scandal. Well, unless you counted the fact Mircalla straight up left the eighth legion in order to be with her girlfriend after Curze decided to go rogue. Cary for their part sighs and says "You should really go in and see him when he wakes. He's probably not going to for a few hours, the apothecary gave him some sedatives. But when he does, you should."

Lilith nods at their words, "I will. I've been visiting when he's asleep mostly. He doesn't want to see me. Has he been drinking my tea?"

"Not sure if he is, but he's been having problems eating in general it seems like. Bring some when he wakes. He should know you're still visiting him" Cary tells her "You two used to be close, I understand that he probably doesn't want to see you, but you should while he's awake. It'll do him some good"

"...I suppose, I guess making sure he drinks the tea is probably my priority. He would do better away from here, that is my belief. Fig has a right to dislike our father, and I will admit I have gained complicated feelings myself over him. I know he did his best, but I still can't help but think of the Mask he wore. How much of it was him and how much of it was the mask?" Lilith asks, seemingly to herself, her feathers fluffed "I see the same mask on my brother, the imperium has been nothing but a blight upon my family. Twisting and changing those who were fine before, but now are not. Are they not perfect as they are?"

Cary quietly listens to Lilith's rant, it sounded like something she'd had bottled up for the past ten thousand years. A thing she'd largely been unable to voice. When Lilith finally seems to be done with besmirching her grandfather's name and all but denouncing the imperium, Cary still doesn't speak, they just pull Lilith into a hug. Yes they might be shorter, but the way Lilith leans down and wraps her wings around them in return says more then enough of what Lilith needed. A quiet sob leaves Lilith and soon enough, Cary can smell the scent of blood as tears began to fall from Lilith's eyes.

"Why? Why did this have to happen? Was my father not enough payment for His crimes? Must my brother suffer and be forced to play a role? What about Fig? Dira? I hate it, I hate it all. I want to be strong for them, I do, it's just-"

"You don't need to be. You can just be there for them. If you need some time to yourself, just say so" Cary says gently "I get it. You've lost a lot to the imperium and you're angry. I get it. You're allowed to feel that."

"I feel useless, Cary, I can't do anything for those I love and I fear that they'll all just slip out of my fingers one day. I should've gone after Zad when he left. I could've stopped it, I could-"

"Hey, hey, kid, listen. There's nothing you could've done. You didn't know. What you can do is be there for him now. You're different these days and I can't quite put my finger on it as to why, but you still need to take time for yourself" Cary interrupts "Come on, Zad's not gonna wake for a few more hours, and I recall you used to love bone carving. I'm sure we can hunt down a bone or two for you"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next Zadkiel awoke, it was not to Cary but to his sister. At first he didn't entirely comprehend where he was or what he was looking at, just basking in the warmth he felt before he woke up properly. He stiffens as he catches sight of Lilith, a large kettle and two large ivory cups stood on his bedside table. He can smell a familiar floral scent and knows that it's her personal brew. He blinks as he sees strange flowers growing on vines around his room, they look like lilies, yet not, like a lotus on blackened vines of wild roses, the petals a bloody red with a faint golden glow casting a soft light around the room. "Lilith...? What are you doing here? I thought..." Zadkiel looks around in confusion as he sees that the flowers seem to be growing out of the metal itself, not a pot with soil to be found.

Lilith merely smiles "Visiting you. Why else would I be here? I brought some of my tea, I know it soothes your pain better then anything else"

"I...thanks... for the tea, I mean" he shifts uncomfortably and tries to look for any sign of pity or disgust in his gaze upon finding none he huffs "I don't know how you can look at me the same as you did before. I lost my wings, some son of dad I am"

"You're still the same, you're still my little brother. A lack of wings isn't going to change that" Lilith reassures him "Ayah wouldn't judge you for it and nor will I. You have less pain now, yes? That is what matters most, is you getting healthy again. Here, have some tea"

"I mean...yes? No? Maybe? I honestly can't tell, it's weird not having them" Zadkiel admits as he takes the steaming cup of tea from his sister. He takes a sip and he can't help the sigh of relief as the warm liquid seems to so quickly take away his pain, even for a little while. It's not permanent, but even a moment of no pain is a blessing.

"I can understand that. I once lost a wing myself. I can't imagine how it would feel to have neither." Lilith sympathizes, "Though having it surgically removed is likely a lot more pleasant then having it ripped off, I imagine", She adds wearily

He blinks in confusion, and looks at the two perfectly healthy and large wings upon his sister's back "Ripped off...? But you have.."

Lilith chuckles lightly "This isn't my first body, Zad, not even my second. I'm not even sure what body this is any more, just that I've died many times. A quirk of being a perpetual. Forever bound to the mortal coils, and never able to leave it for long. It's how I've managed to survive for this long"

That made sense, he supposed, but Zadkiel couldn't but look at his sister in a new light. He knew she was a perpetual, but it had never really him what that entailed exactly, "Does it hurt to die?" Zadkiel asked before he could stop himself. At the slight hitch of breath from her, he quickly adds "Wait no, that was rude, you don't have to answer that if you don't want to"

There is silence until Lilith speaks up quietly "Usually yes, it does. Our family is not known for it's peaceful deaths. It was only painless once, and that was when Grandfather took my life. I asked him, for I was useless in the depths, but to his credit, I did not suffer pain"

There's an uncomfortable silence as Zadkiel digests that, he has no idea why Lilith would ask the Emperor to kill her, nor does he want to know the circumstances. He decides not to question further and instead sips on his tea. After awhile he asks "What is...Lion up to these days? I heard that he's across the rift"

"Doing well, all things considered. Has yet to control his ability to teleport along with learning to show emotions. Just trying to rebuild his legion honestly, and looking to protect what worlds he can" Lilith responds honestly

"Does he know that legions aren't really a thing anymore...?"

"He does, and he thinks it stupid, a sentiment I share in. We are weaker as individual chapters then we were as legions. I understand why Guilliman made such a decisions, but it puts us at a disadvantage." Lilith remarks "I suppose I can't say much I was given the Mourning suns, and they were never a large legion, but we do our job and we do it well, even if it is from within a well of exile. I say exile might actually suit them"

Zadkiel nods at that. He can understand why Lilith might prefer being in exile. He still can't believe she was exiled in the first place, but then again, she had never liked the Imperium anyway, having had a mindset similar to the Khan on it. Though he's glad she never turned traitor. He wasn't sure if he could handle losing his big sister to the ruinous powers, even at this age. From what he could tell, her chapter was mutated, but no more warp touched then any other loyalist chapter stuck in the warp. If anything, the mutations just seemed to be a quirk from her geneseed and the ingestion of her blood.

He wondered if perhaps exile would him as good as it did her...

[maggiedelusional]

Let Me Go (Epilogue)

Pairing: Hangman x f!reader, Rooster x f!reader

Warnings: none, teenagers being teenagers, ANGST (but you knew that), bittersweet ending

Word Count: 5.8k

Summary: Reader is married and shares a child with Hangman, Life and circumstance drives reader into Rooster’s arms, but Hangman isn’t giving up that easily

A/N: Here it is the epilogue of Let Me Go. I can't believe this story that I thought of during my commute to work last summer, a story that I didn't anyone but me would care about is now at its official end. Even if it did take almost a year, and several hiatuses to get here. I will admit this past year has been some of the hardest of my life, with so many changes and obstacles I've gone through. But this story, this community has always been a safe space for me to run to. I'm sure that not everyone will be happy with how I chose to end this story, but this past year has taught me to trust my instincts as a writer and I will not please everyone, but I hope you understand why I went with what I did. I don't know if you all know this but Let Me Go is actually the first full-length multi-part series I've ever created, and I just wanted to thank all of you from the bottom of my heart for taking this journey with me. Whether you've been here from the beginning, if you're a casual reader, someone who has waited months for me to update, to the people who have left me kind and supportive comments, and even to those who weren't necessarily the kindest. Thank you. Enough with all of that, without further ado, Let Me Go the final FINAL part.

Declan Belmont had Astrid pressed against the brick wall at the back of their high school. They definitely should not have been skipping 4th period, but the feeling of how soft her lips against his and the sounds of her whimpers as he grabbed the skin of her hips, definitely made him forget about the important test review they were currently missing. 

“Dec, slow down.” She pulled herself away from him, trying to even her breath. 

“We are not hooking up next to the soccer field.” She told him with a raised eyebrow. 

He let out an exaggerated groan before turning them both around until Declan’s back was the one against the wall. 

“Fine, fair enough” He chuckled as he gave his girlfriend a small peck on the lips. 

“I can’t help it, you look so good today.” He sighed pressing his face into her collarbone breathing in her scent. 

“I can’t keep my hands off of you.” He mumbled into her chest. 

Astrid let out a giggle, pulling his face away from her.

“You say that everyday.” 

“And it’s true!” He exclaimed

“Every. Single. Day” He pecked her lips in between every word. 

“You’re such a dork.” 

“YOUR dork.” 

“Ew you sound just like my dad.” She said, feigning a disgusted face. 

“Speaking of your dad, when are you going to introduce me to your family?” Declan asks her, his once joking demeanor fading to nervousness. 

Astrid backed away from his touch, putting distance between them. 

“Dec..” 

“Come on Atty! We’ve been official for almost 6 months! You’ve met my mom, my brother, even my stupid cousin.”

“Your cousin doesn’t count, we have trig together.” You pointed out.

“Okay fine, but besides the point, you’ve met them!” 

“Are you ashamed of me?” He asked solemnly

“No! That’s not it Dec! My family is just…” Astrid stops to piece together her thoughts.

“They’re absolutely insane!” 

“My aunts and uncles are so loud ALL THE TIME. It’s basically impossible to get ANY work done whenever they’re around.” 

“Don’t get me started on how nosey my Uncle Mickey gets. Like I think that man forgets that he’s nearing 50 and does not need to know why Beca from fourth grade and I aren’t friends anymore.” 

“Or how my Aunt Nat and Uncle Bob, LOVE to torture my dad and the sweet little imbecile he is always takes the bait.”

Astrid didn’t notice how intense her tirade was until she felt her face heating up and Declan staring at her in amusement.

“Sorry..” she told him embarrassed at her outburst. 

“You should really breathe in between monologues, you were turning blue babe.” 

“See what I mean? They make me CRAZY, and I didn’t want you to see that side of me quite yet.” Astrid admitted.

Declan chuckled before approaching Astrid, wrapping his arms around her waist, and using a finger to have her look up at him. 

“In case you haven’t noticed, I happen to like your crazy.” Declan kisses the pout off of Astrid’s face. 

“And I really like you, and I don’t see anything short of you committing murder, changing that.” 

“Can I get that in writing?” 

“I’ll even get it notarized.” 

“Lucky for you, my family’s monthly barbeque is happening tomorrow, and I can maybeee get you an invitation.”

“Aw you’d do that for me babe?” 

“I guess, and I do happen to know the host of the party.” 

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

Declan felt a knot form in his stomach as he stood outside Astrid's house, trying to muster the courage to knock on the door. He knew he shouldn't be nervous, but he couldn't help the feeling of apprehension that was creeping up on him. What if her family didn't like him? What if he did something embarrassing? What if he accidentally insulted someone?

He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down. Technically this was his idea, and Astrid had continually warned him about her family’s many quirks but assured him that they did have good hearts. But she didn’t elaborate further. Declan now mentally kicked himself for not asking more questions about them, now he was going into this meeting blind with no preparation or any talking points. 

“Fucking Amateur Hour Declan!” He muttered to himself, there’s no going back and changing the past now. He couldn’t stand on the front porch forever. 

Finally, he raised his hand and knocked on the door. He could hear the sounds of laughter and conversation coming from inside the house, and his nerves intensified. After what felt like an eternity, the door swung open and he was greeted by an older man, a silver fox with a broad chest wearing a leather military flight jacket. He wasn’t very tall but it didn’t make him any less terrifying. 

“So you’re the boy our little Astrid has been seeing.”  He greeted Declan with a grin 

The man had a warm smile and Declan felt himself release the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. 

Declan held out a hand towards the older man to shake. 

“No need for all of that son, welcome to the party!” 

The older man pulled Declan into a hug, clapping him on the back and dragging him into the house. 

“Don’t scare him off Pete, he just got here!” A beautiful older woman with brown shoulder length hair and kind eyes laughed at the man. 

“Sorry about him Declan, he’s just excited.”

“I’m Penny, and this is Pete.”

“Call me Mav, son.” He smiled at Declan. 

They led him to the back of the house towards the glass doors with a deck where he had a a clear view into the backyard. 

He saw a handful of men and women standing around the large yard. They held themselves in a way that made it obvious that they were military despite being out of uniform. 

Declan felt his previous nervousness return, feeling his throat get dry. He placed his hand on the door to open it, when he realized that he never properly greeted Astrid’s parents. 

“I am so sorry, I was so nervous that I forgot my manners. It’s so nice to finally meet you Mr. and Mrs Seresin.” Declan beamed at the older couple. 

“Astrid is an amazing girl and its an honor to meet the people that raised her.”

Penny and Mav stared at Declan in confusion before bursting into laughter. 

Declan stood confused at the sudden outburst. 

After they settled down, Mav clapped a hand on Declan’s shoulder. 

“You flatter us son. But we’re not Astrid’s parents.”

“I am Atty’s godmother, and Mav here is her grandpa.” 

“Hey! You say that like I’m old!” Mav pouted.

“If I’m her grandpa that makes you her grandma.” He pointed out.

“No way old man, I am perfectly happy being Auntie Penny.” 

“Yeah Yeah.” Mav wrapped an arm around Penny’s waist giving her a kiss on the temple. 

Declan felt slightly awkward watching this interaction, he wasn’t exactly used to PDA from adult couples, mostly due to his own family history of divorce. But most of it stemmed from the embarassment of wrongly assuming his girfriend’s parentage. 

“You can relax son, we definitely helped her parents with babysitting and carpool, but we can’t take credit for the woman she’s become.” Mav explained. 

“And don’t worry about us, if Atty likes you, then we like you.” 

“And that goes for all those other meatheads out in the backyard.” Penny reassured him. 

Declan nodded as the couple led him to the outside. 

“Look whos here!” Mav announced to the other attendants of the barbeque. 

The group waved and roared with excitement, greeting Declan from his vantage point on the deck. 

“Hey Dec!” His girlfriend greeted him. 

Declan momentarily forgot his troubles as he took in his girlfriend’s appearance. She looked like sunshine in her frilly yellow sundress, her head adorned with a puffy white headband, her smile beaming as she walked towards Declan’s position on the deck. 

“You’ll be okay son, we all got your back. The only person here you need to impress is that guy.” Mav pointed at a younger man, taller and somehow more menacing looking, manning the grill. 

Declan took a hard gulp as Astrid finally approached him, grabbing his hand and dragging him down the stairs of the deck towards a gathering of 3. 

“Dec, This is my Auntie Nat, Uncle Bob, and Uncle Mickey.” 

“Guys, this is Declan Belmont, my boyfriend.” 

“Nice to meet you Declan.” The woman greeted him. 

The shorter man with wire framed glasses simply smiled and nodded at Declan in greeting. 

The final man, seemed to be of hispanic descent with short buzzed hair. 

He surprised Declan by pulling him into a hug. 

“Its nice to finally put a face to a name!” Uncle Mickey beamed at Declan. 

“We all know how picky our Atty can get, so you must be something special.” 

Uncle Mickey pulled back on hug before throwing an arm around Declan’s shoulders and pulled him aside from the group and whispering. 

“ I want to know everything, do you know what you want to do after graduation? Anything you’re thinking of studying? How did you and Astrid meet? Do you love her?”

“Uncle Mickey!”

“Fanboy!” 

The other members of the group obviously heard everything from the forced huddle despite Mickey’s attempt at whispering. 

“We’ll reconvene later.” He gave a final whisper before turning back around to the rest of the group. 

Declan found purchase by Astrid’s side one again wrapping an arm around her wasit. 

“Oh no you won’t Uncle Mickey.” Astrid glared at Fanboy. 

“Yeah leave the damn boy alone.” Phoenix added. 

Bob stood silently in the middle amusement clear on his face, holding in his laughter. 

“But mija, How am I supposed to find out?”

“Fanboy, the boy has been here less than 5 minutes and you’re already giving him the third degree.” Phoenix rolled her eyes at her frend. 

“I just wanna get to know him better, see why Atty likes him so much.” 

“And don’t act like I’m the only one who’s curious” Fanboy pointed at his friends. 

“You know what, you’re right!” Bob finally spoke out. 

“I do wanna know.” 

Natasha stared at her friends in disbelief, before her face released its scowl in a look of agreement with the two men. Crossing the middle and standing by the two male daggers. 

“Traitor!” Astrid frowned at her aunt. 

“Sorry kiddo, Fanboy’s got a point”

Astrid’s face turned red in embarrassment. 

“Y’all promised to be cool.” Astrid pouted. 

The three aviators shot her an apologetic look with a shrug. 

Declan felt so much warmth and joy from watching his girlfriend interact with her family, despite their antics they all clearly deeply for one another. Almost made him forget about the menacing man across the yard watching his every move. Especially at his hand placement.

He quickly took his hand off of Astrid’s waist. Which took her by surprise, and made her think that he was horrified at her crazy family. 

“I am so sorry about them Dec. I asked them to be normal ” Astrid turned to him with pleading eyes.

Declan was confused at her uneasiness

“Don’t be! I think they’re sweet.” He replied joyfully. 

“And I will be happy to answer any and all questions you all ask me.” Declan announced to the three before distractedly looking off to the distance back to the man by the grill. 

“Then why did you..?” Astrid began to ask but trailed off as she followed her boyfriend’s line of sight, her aunt and uncles doing the same. 

“Ahh, the big man.” Mickey deduced. 

“Him? A Big Man?” 

“Are we looking at the same person right now?” Phoenix raised an eyebrow at her friend.

“I mean yeah he’s not a big man to us, but imagine how Declan feels right now.”

“Guys, you’re not making it any better.” Astrid sighed. 

“Don’t worry about him, he only looks like a grizzly bear, in actuality he is a big soft teddy bear.” Phoenix reassured the boy. 

Declan was still frozen in his place, feeling smaller he’s ever felt in his life. 

“He’s gotta meet him at some point kid, go rip the bandaid off.” Phoenix reminded her niece. 

“You’re probably right Aunt Nat.” Astrid sighed. 

“Come on Dec, lets go.” Astrid grabbed Declan’s hand and dragged him towards the grill. 

“Dad!” Astrid exclaimed as walked towards the aviator, with Declan in tow. 

“This is my boyfriend Declan.”

Declan felt frozen in place, never feeling quite as intimidated as he had in this exact moment. He outstretched a hand, a gulp trapped in his throat. The older man gave his hand a firm shake, his grip tightening and holding Declan’s in a steel grip, staring him down. 

“Dad, stop it.” Astrid chastised the man after several agonizing seconds that felt like hours to Declan.  

“But its so funny.” 

The man released his grip and his entire demeanor changed in that exact moment, like a light switch being flipped. The stoic look on his face changed to a dopey grin. 

“You should’ve seen your face! You look like you’re gonna pee your pants!” The older man chuckled. 

Declan laughed awkwardly alongside the aviator. 

“I’m sorry Dec, my dad thinks he’s funny.” 

“You used to think I was funny.” Astrid’s dad pouted.

“Yeah when I was 4”

“When I also used to think mac and cheese and mashed potatoes mixed together was the greatest food to exist.” 

“But Atty…you still think that.” Declan muttered. 

The two men maintained eye contact with one another, their grins slowly getting larger before bursting into laughter. 

Astrid stood still in her spot, a frown planted on her face. 

“Come on babe, just joking around with your dad.” 

“I think I liked you better when you were afraid of everyone.” She glared at her boyfriend. 

“Sir, has she always been this intense?” 

“Yup, even when she was a little girl, terrifying minimum wage teenage face painters who merely suggested to paint her as a butterfly, insisting yoshi was cooler.” 

“Please tell me you have a picture sir.” 

“Come on.. You know I do.” Both men laughing with one another once again. 

“I can’t believe you two are ganging up on me!” Astrid exclaimed.

“And I still stand with that previous claim, Yoshi is cooler than a butterfly.”

“You’re just further proving our point babe.” Declan smiled, reaching for Astrid’s hand once again, now feeling more comfortable. 

She dropped his hand in a huff, folding her arms across her chest. 

“I’m not a big fan of whatever.” 

“This.” waving a finger between the two men 

 “Is”

“Come on Little Chick! I thought you wanted me to get along with your boyfriend.” The mustached man pointed out. 

“Well the two of you can get along all you want in this corner, I’m going to talk to Uncle Javy and Uncle Reuben. At least they’re nice to me.” Astrid pouted as she walked away from Rooster and Declan.

Declan had the biggest smile plastered on his face watching his girlfriend walk away. 

“She’s something isn’t she?” Rooster referred to Astrid’s retreating figure. 

“That she is.”

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

Declan was honestly having a really nice time. He couldn’t remember the last time that he was at an event with extended family. It was just him, his mom, and his brother (sometimes his aunt and cousin) for as long as he could remember. Large in part due to the divorce and his dad constantly traveling for work. So it meant a lot to him that Astrid’s family welcomed him with open arms.

He had spent the better part of the hour asking Astrid’s family members funny embarrassing stories from her childhood, and he also got to meet Astrid’ Uncle Javy and Uncle Reuben, with a few more attendees joining. 

Declan was currently helping Astrid’s dad with the grill, with Mav often coming around to nitpick  the younger men’s work. And Rooster telling him to “fuck off, old man”, with Astrid and Penny laughing at their antics. 

What confused Declan was the lack of appearance from Astrid’s mom. Astrid had never mentioned having a single father so Declan knew that she probably had a mom. 

He was about to open his mouth to ask when he was interrupted by the sound of the backyard fence opening and his girlfriend’s booming voice. 

“Daddy!” 

Daddy? Wasn’t Declan already standing next to her dad?

An older blonde man dressed in service khakis had arms wide open for Astrid as she ran towards him nearly knocking him over. 

“Bagman!” Astrid’s (other?) dad exclaimed. 

The other attendees of the party approached the man. 

“Look what the cat dragged in.” Phoenix smirked

“We thought you’d be out in the Pacific for a few more weeks.” Payback commented. 

“Well y’all know me, I get shit done.”

“Plus, I missed little Pixie over here.” He answered hugging his daughter once more. 

How did Declan not know that his girlfriend had two dads? How heteronormative for him to assume that his girlfriend had a typical nuclear family? Then again she’s never mentioned too much of her family. 

The aviators threw greetings and questions at Hangman, with the man in question trying his best to answer them all. 

Declan stood at the edge of the crowd, bewildered at the new addition. Jake noticed the unfamiliar boy amongst the group.

He parted the group stopping all conversation and made eye contact with Declan. 

“Now, whos this?” Jake asked walking towards the boy. 

“Oh, daddy this is Declan. My boyfriend.” Astrid smiled introducing him. 

“Boyfriend already?” Jake turned to Bradley. 

“I thought we had more time.”

“Thats exactly what I was thinking, I was not ready.” Bradley clapped jake on the shoulder. 

“I am 16. I am more than ready. You should be too” Astrid rolled her eyes at the two men. 

“As long as you’re not ready for other things.” Bradley raised an eyebrow at the girl while Jake gave Declan a death glare. 

Astrid’s cheeks turned bright red. 

“Dad, Daddy, you’re embarassing me!” She was mortified at their behavior. 

“We just wanna make sure this boy is not gonna pressure you into something you’re not comfortable with.” Jake explained. 

“I would never sirs!” Declan interjected. 

“I can vouch for him Hangman, hes a good kid.” Bradley responded. 

“I’m going inside, this is mortifying.” Astrid ran into the house. 

“Do you need me to-?” Decaln started to follow behind her before being stopped by Jake. 

“She’ll be fine son, you stay right here.”

“ Rooster might’ve vouched for you but I’m still gonna take a peek under your hood. Make my own conclusion.” Jake led Declan to the outdoor seating beside the deck stairs. 

“So Declan right? You got a last name?” Jake asked as they both sat down.

“Belmont sir.” 

“Belmont? As in Vice Admiral Richard Belmont?” He inquired. 

“Yes sir, he’s my father.” 

“I know your dad, he works right under me, good man, dedicated to the work, dedicated to his country.”

“He works under you?” 

The pieces finally connected in Declan’s brain. Astrid Seresin. Seresin. Commander of the Pacific Fleet, Admiral Jacob Seresin. 

How did not put that together before? 

Declan stood up abruptly, assuming a salute stance. 

“I’m sorry to be disrespectful sir, I did not know you were THE Admiral Seresin.” 

“My father taught me better than that.”

“At ease son, no need for all of that.” Admiral Seresin chuckled

Declan dropped the salute but still remained standing in stance. 

“Did Astrid not tell you?”

“No sir, we did not speak too much about our families.” 

“Well if you’re really afraid of being disrespectful, kid, you gotta know that all of these people are decorated officers.” 

“Them right there are Captains Avalone, Lennox, Lee, and Bassett.” He said pointing to the men and woman that Astrid introduced as Uncles Billy, Brig, Logan, and Auntie Callie.

“Maverick was also captain before he retired.”

“Over there are Rear Admirals Floyd, Garcia, Finch, and Machado.” 

Uncle Bob, Uncle Mickey, Uncle Reuben and Uncle Javy. 

“Finally, Old Rooster and Phoenix over there. Vice Admiral Trace, and Admiral Bradshaw.”

“Holy Shit.” Declan gulped. 

“So you better treat our Astrid right, if you’re smart you can forsee how people with our experience can ruin your life, in more ways than one.” Admiral Seresin warned. 

“Understood sir.”

Declan shifted in his spot, desperate to change the subject from the possible harm that would befall him if he ever made the mistake of hurting his girlfriend. 

“So my father works under you, sir? Last I spoke to him he was stationed to the Pacific.”

“Yes, that’s where I just returned from. Your dad is still out there though.” 

“Yeah I figured, I reckon he would’ve called by now.” Declan tried to hide his disappointment. 

Jake read him easily however. He quickly remembered his absence from his daughter’s life earlier in her childhood. Immediately feeling sorry for the boy, he motioned for him to sit once again

“I get it, it's hard, I wasn’t around much for Astrid’s childhood, I was too focused on getting to.. Well here.” 

“Was it worth it sir?” 

“Not sure I can answer that, I missed a lot, but I was lucky enough to have someone who understood my ambitions.” 

“I don’t know how y’all did it sir, especially since you being the Commander of the Pacific fleet and Atty’s other dad also being an Admiral.” 

“And especially with the stigma you two had to face with the Navy.” 

“It was a little weird and difficult at first. But Astrid made it worth it. And Bradshaw has been a big help.”

“Well you two raised an amazing daughter. How long have you been together?” Declan inquired, knowing about the rampant homophobia that still unfortunately plagued the military branch. 

But seeing how well respected and high in rank the two men were he knew that couldn’t have been easy, but now they’re both in positions where no one would dare to criticize them.

“How long have we..? Wait. Do you think me and Bradshaw are..” Admiral Seresin broke out into boisterous laughter.

“Hey Rooster! Get over here!” Declan looked at the older man in confusion as the second Admiral made his way to the duo. 

“What’s up Bagman?” Rooster responded as he halted his jog. 

“Come and give me some sugar.” Jake chuckled as he brought Bradley into a tight embrace planting a wet kiss on his cheek.

Declan felt his face heat up at the PDA presented in front of him by his girlfriend’s fathers.

Bradley stumbled back after Jake released his hold, a look of amusement on his face. 

Hangman threw an arm around the other aviator. 

“Not that I’m complaining, but not sure how my wife is gonna feel about you planting one on me Bagman,” 

Rooster laughed.

Wife? Now Declan was even more confused than before. Astrid’s dad has a wife and is also with her other dad? Is the wife okay with this? Is the wife also with Commander Seresin?

Declan felt a migraine coming on from the heavy wheels spinning in his mind trying to piece together his girlfriend’s interesting family dynamic. 

“Nicholas Bradshaw! If you don’t stop running right now, you’re not getting any Ice cream!” 

Declan’s thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a woman that looked like a more mature, not necessarily older version of his girlfriend making her way down the deck, running after a little boy that looked like a miniature version of Admiral Bradshaw.

Is this the wife? She was very beautiful.  Admiral Bradshaw is a lucky man. 

Declan had so many questions. The boy he gathered was Astrid’s little brother. And then the woman , possibly her mom??? Declan just became more confused with every passing minute.

Both Admirals stared at the woman in adoration as she chased after the boy.

“But Momma, Uncle Jakey is here!” The boy ran into Admiral Seresin’s arms who picked him up with a chuckle. 

“No love for your dad buddy?” Rooster feigned hurt. 

“Uncle Jakey. Toy please.” 

“Ouch! Little man, and here I thought you were just happy to see me.” Jake answered also feigning hurt.

“Sweets! Come and meet Pixie’s boyfriend.”

“Sorry for messing with you Dec, you just made it too easy.” 

“Now who’s this?” The woman approached their chattering.

She had kind eyes and a beautiful smile. She was dressed in a sundress that almost mimicked the one his girlfriend was wearing except in an emerald color. 

“Declan, Ma’am nice to meet you.” Declan nervously held out hand to the woman who shook it gently.

“I’m Astrid’s mom, y/n. And you must be the boyfriend we’ve hardly heard anything about.”

That one annoying song that his sister used to sing non-stop, Stacy’s Mom he thinks it’s called, never made more sense to him than at that moment.

Don’t get him wrong, Declan loved Astrid, more than anything. But in some kind of alternate universe where they weren’t together and he didn’t know her and her entire family. He would proudly declare her a MILF, but at risk of pissing off his girlfriend, her grandpa, godmother, her large array of uncles and aunts, and her dads who also happened to be top ranking navy officers, he would never admit it to another soul.

“So where have you been hiding?” Astrid’s mom asked jokingly.

“Mom! Dad! Daddy!” Astrid shouted as she exited the house and jogged down to the outdoor furniture.

Astrid slid into the gap between Declan’s arm and torso, laying a hand on his chest.

“Stop giving him the third degree.” She glared at her parents. 

“Hey! I was just introducing myself to Declan here since you refused to give your poor mother anything.” Her mom pouted while poking Astrid on the tip of her nose. 

Astrid stuck a tongue out at the older woman.

“Yeah okay mom, stop acting like you didn’t grill me about Dec last night.” Pointing a finger at y/n.

“It’s not cute, mother.” 

“Your mother happens to be very cute.” Bradley wrapped an arm around the older woman planting a kiss on her forehead. 

Jake nodded in quiet agreement, but Declan noticed a glimpse of sadness behind his eyes. He wonders what’s that about.

“Ewww Mom and Dad, can you please not do that in front me and Dec.” Astrid exclaimed, further burying her face into the crook of Declan’s neck. 

“How come you two can have PDA and me and your dad can’t?” Her mom responded. 

“Because you’re old.” 

“Don’t listen to her Sweets, you’re as beautiful as the day I met you.” Jake chuckled. 

“Atty!” A small voice originating from lower ground whined. 

“Oh her buddy!” Astrid kneeled down to her little brother’s height. 

“Did you have a good practice?” She asked grabbing Nick’s little body into her lap tickling his neck and making him laugh hysterically. 

“I want kiss!.” He shouted through his giggles.

“Anything for you Goosey!” Astrid covered her little brother’s face in kisses. 

“Momma too!” 

“Oh of course my little goose.” Y/n laughed as she kneeled down to the same level as her children. 

“What a lucky little dude.” Bradley smiled. 

The two other men chuckled watching the love fest before them. 

“Not to interrupt your little family time but since you were distracted Bradley, I took it upon myself to cook the steaks PROPERLY.” Maverick shouted across the backyard. 

“Come and get your steaks!” 

“Oh sweet, steak grandpa mav style is my favorite.” Astrid exclaimed picking up her little brother and making her way to the grill, Declan close in tow. 

“Yay steak!” Nick cheered

“Is it ‘Hurt Dad’s feelings day’, Little Chick?” Bradley groaned as he followed the rest of the group to the food. 

Jake hung back watching the sight before him. His daughter, so grown up, so beautiful, smart, and headstrong. Just like her mother. 

Jake thought back to Declan’s earlier question. Was it all worth it? Those 4 years where y/n and Astrid away was some of the loneliest of his life. He honestly took that time to take every deployment, work every detachment, and because Y/n needed time to think, he for that time being never felt guilty for his ambition.

.Y/n could never be malicious enough to keep him away from his daughter. She gave him every opportunity to be involved.  Of course, he visited his daughter as often as he could. But it definitely was not often enough. His work was all he had, he thought, so he threw himself into it completely. Up to the point where he finally surpassed Rooster. 

When those four years were up it was clear where his priorities lied, and in a way he understood what Y/N said before. He was selfish for making her take a back seat to it for so long, when she and their daughter deserved so much more than that. 

It honestly didn’t surprise him when Y/N chose Bradshaw in the end, he was there for Y/N and for Astrid when he couldn’t. It didn’t make it hurt any less though. He definitely had some dark years after that. Years where he would go months into his work, not bothering to keep in touch with his ex-wife and daughter. 

No one heard from his for an entire year after he caught wind of their wedding and Bradshaw legally adopting his daughter. 

All he had was his career, his ambitions, it was the only thing keeping him going. He thought that’s all he needed. It should have been enough. His lifelong longing should it been quenched when he was promoted to Admiral, a full 4 years before Bradshaw. He finally won. 

But did he really? 

He threw himself into a drunken stupor at the Hard Deck, ‘happily’ celebrating his promotion. Alone. Completely Alone. 

But Y/N, sweet and strong Y/N, walked into the bar. And dragged him to his feet pulling him to his senses. 

“I gave you space all these years Jake because I thought it was what you needed. I know the news about me and Bradley was not going to bve easy for you so I stayed away, I didn’t want you to think we were rubbing it in your face. I didn’t say anything when you went years making Astrid feel like she didn’t have a father, Bradley stepped in because that is the type of man he is and he loves her. But that deosn’t change the fact that you’re her father, she still looks for you every birthday, checks the news to make sure nothing bad has happened to you, still tears up whenever she sees or hears Pixie Sticks. We may have not worked out Jake, but that doesn’t mean you abandon her.” Jake hadn’t seen so much pain in your eyes since that final night before you left. 

“She doesn’t want to see me. You left me.”

“Exactly. I left you Jake. Your daughter didn’t.” 

“ And all she wants now is you to show up and apologize for the years you missed and eat the cake she baked for you for your promotion, instead of sitting here wasting away alone”

“She baked me a cake?” Jake asked his eyes filled with tears and hope for the first time in over 7 years. 

“Yeah she did. Even wrote “Congrats Daddy” on it with light green frosting to match your eyes.”

You nodded. 

“Okay, take me to see Pixie.” He smiled. 

That was 5 odd or so years ago. It took a lot of work but through endless groveling, apologies, and carefully curated gifts. Rooster finally forgave him. 

Just kidding, Astrid forgave him. Of course she says that there was no forgiving needed to be done in the first place, the young girl knew that her dad had things to work out on his own before he was ready to come home to her. But Hangman knew better and he made sure to make up for the 7 years of missed birthdays, holidays, and just regular Daddy-Daughter time, and as an admiral he had more leeway to pick his schedule and deployments. 

Things with Rooster also got better, despite his years of resentment towards the man, he definitely appreciated the care that he gave you and your daughter in his absence (even if he didn’t appreciate the way it begun). After a couple years of awkwardness where the two men couldn’t be left alone in a room together, they found a mutual respect and admiration for both of their work and dedication to the Navy. 

The two were definitely more alike than they realized, it just took an intense rivalry, a couple of punches thrown, a few black eyes, a pair of bruised jaws, a divorce, a wedding and adoption, and a couple of years of close proximity to unlock.

From there bloomed a friendship that can’t be described by anything other than a total “bromance”.

As he stood in the yard contemplating his journey to that moment, he was pulled out of his thoughts by your hand caressing his cheek. 

“How you doing Zuko?” You smiled at him with bright eyes. 

“I’m doing good Sweets.” 

“Just thinking about how fast time has passed.” He explained.

“It has been a wild ride hasn’t it?” You responded, dropping your hand, placing it back to your side. 

Jake felt cold from the removal of your hand, his body still searching for your warth even after all these years. He tried to hide his disappointment from his face but you knew him better than that. 

“You know I will always love you, right Jake?” You smiled at him sympathetically. 

“We’ve been through so much together, and even though it wasn’t all rainbows and sunshine, I will be eternally grateful to you.” 

“You gave me her.” Your eyes twinkled looking at Astrid. 

“And you know I will never get over you right?” Jake responded, his voice thick with melancholy. 

“Maybe…” You began.

“But I hope someday you will. Our love, our connection was so filled with fight and fire, and I loved it… I loved you. But after all of that, we were just left with ashes.” You looked at him, your smile bittersweet. 

“You taught me how to love Jake, and loving you, prepared me to love him.” You gestured to Bradshaw. 

“To love them.” 

You looked lovingly at your family, your friends, your husband, your children. 

“Promise me Jake, that when the time comes. You will take that love, the love you had for me, the love we shared, and you will use it to love someone who deserves it.”

“Because you deserve someone amazing, someone who will love better than I ever did.” 

You walked backwards towards the others, flashing him that same smile that started all of this, before turning around and walking away. 

“Okay.” He smiled to himself, joining the rest of the party. 

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