#now THIS was all i wanted out of the epilogue

[luveline]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝

You try to break up with your boyfriend. Aaron just wants to know why. (And what he can do to fix it.) [4k]

c: fem, stripper!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff epilogue, suggestive themes mdni. requested here 

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

I don’t want to see you anymore. 

The text doesn’t compute at first. He reads it twice. Reads the sender’s name, his heart stopped clean in his chest. 

He puts down his pen.

The idea that the text wasn’t meant for him crosses his mind, but that might further break his heart. He knows you have clients, but you don’t contact them outside of the club. 

His second thought is that he’d been a client unknowingly, but he made it clear to you those few months ago that he liked you as you, not as a service provider, and not as something to be bought. You thought he was trying to acquire you as a private escort. He explained it as what it was truthfully, if vulnerably.

He’s being broken up with, he surmises. Over text. By a woman he adores, who he’d thought was happy. Aaron opens his phone to call you, clicking your contact, bringing it to his ear. You don’t answer. He calls again and he’s clearly declined three rings in. 

He puts his phone down and has a few minutes of unbreathable heartbreak. Just a few minutes, his hand to his stomach, trying to think of things as reasonably as he can. 

Aaron doesn’t care that you’re a stripper. He might’ve at first. Denied his attraction to you, because of course he had feelings for you when you were standing against the side of the club in your dancing lingerie, who wouldn’t fall in love with you? Every fool lucky enough to see you undressed must assume the same thing. He thought it wouldn’t work, and that you’d never be interested in a man like him. 

Interviews for information lended themselves to rare moments of conversation. He liked how you talked, how your eyes moved to his, the way you watched his mouth. Your unusual friendship with Spencer drew you closer, and activated a rare seed of jealousy within him that helped him place you in his life. He had real, tangible feelings for you. 

And now it’s over. 

He scrunches his eyes closed and gets up from his desk. Puts his coat on, but leaves his things where they are on his desk. 

“Hotch?” Morgan asks as he descends the steps down from his office into the bullpen. 

“I’m not sure when I’ll be back.” 

“What happened?” 

Aaron turns to Morgan, hiding his panic as well as he’s able to. “I have a small emergency. It’s fine. Can you make sure things are okay here?” 

“Hotch?” Morgan asks again. 

Aaron keeps on going. He tries your number again on the way down. Three times, a fourth by the time he’s at the parking garage. 

The fifth time, you answer. 

He almost breaks the phone, its plastic body creaking in his hand. “Honey?” he asks. 

“I don’t want to see you anymore, Aaron. Is it hard to understand?” 

He’s taken aback. Some part of him had held onto the hope that it was a mistake. “Yes,” he says slowly, struggling to pull his keys out as his car comes into view, “it is.” 

“I don’t want to be with you.” 

“Have I upset you?” 

“Would that make it easier?” 

“No. I don’t think anything would make it any easier. Honey, this feels so sudden. Can’t we talk about it?” 

“I don’t want to see you.” 

“Please.” He can’t imagine never seeing you again. Just a few days ago he was sitting at the dinner table with you laughing opposite, your socked toes brushing his ankle. “Please, give me the chance to fix this.” 

“Aaron, it’s not really fixable. Please don’t call me again.”

“Y/N,” he says, firmer now. Anger leaks into his tone —what’s going on? “Let me come over. We need to talk about this.” 

“No–”

“It’s not fair to me for you to do it over the phone.” 

“…Okay. Fine. I’m at home, but I have work at six.” 

“I’m on my way.” 

He hangs up. Your terse allowance is all he needs to get in the car and drive, checking his watch. There’s plenty of time between now and six. He can figure out what’s wrong and hopefully change your mind.

He thinks about it more seriously as he’s parking outside of your place. Perhaps he doesn’t want to change your mind. You aren’t acting like you, none of your kindness can be found in such a swift dismissal, but he thinks of your foot under the table, your sock rubbing along his ankle without comment. 

He takes the stairs to your apartment. It’s not the nicest place to stay, but it’s far from a slum, either. He doesn’t worry about you when you’re home beyond the usual everyday fears: Is she eating? Sleeping? Having a good day? 

Now he’s thinking, What did I do? 

He gets to your apartment and pauses at the threshold. After a moment's deliberation, he knocks. 

“Come in, Aaron.” 

He pulls down the handle and lets himself in. You’ve mail piled on the sideboard and your shoes tucked under it, a coat rack further in bragging scarves and coats and jackets of all different colours. He’s always liked the interior of your apartment. It doesn’t feel as cold as his own, parts of your personality peeking in through everything, from the flowered tiles in the bathroom to the glass lampshade in the bedroom. 

You’re sitting in the kitchen with the light off. “Hey,” he says, voice already laden with relief he doesn’t mean to share. 

“Hi.” 

“Can I sit down?” 

You gesture for him to do as he likes. 

Aaron sits down at your table. It’s a small square just big enough to share dinner, plain wood edged in a darker slate grey outline. Sometimes when you’re feeling especially pretty, you’ll lean heavily on an elbow and grin at him, enticing him in for a kiss.

“What’s this all about?” he asks quietly. 

“I just think we’re… at the end of our relationship.” 

You don’t sound truthful. He knew there was something strange in your voice over the phone. 

“What’s making you feel that way?” 

“Does it matter?” 

Again, avoiding and evasive. 

He meets your gaze unflinchingly. “I care about you. I love you,” he says. “I know I can’t be who you pictured for yourself, and if you really can’t see a future for us, then… I’ll have seen it alone. I just wish I could understand this sudden change. Did I do something wrong?” 

“You’re not who I picture for myself,” you agree. 

“No?” he asks. 

“No. You didn’t do anything wrong, but I can’t see us together. We’re not the right fit.” 

You twist a ring around your middle finger. He thinks he’s starting to understand. “Do you think we’re not the right fit?” 

“Please don’t use your psychoanalysis on me.” 

“It’s not psychoanalysis, sweetheart, it’s– I know you.” He grimaces. “I’d like to think I do. And I’m allowing myself the audacity to believe you were happy with me just a few days ago. What happened between then and now to change your mind?” 

You stare at your two-toned table. Your mouth opens to talk, little but air making it out. Your shoulders begin tightening like you’ve been keyed between them, twisting and twisting. 

“What do you want me to say?” you ask. 

Dramatic, he’d hope you could say you don’t love him, or don’t care about him enough to let him convince you the rest of the way. “Is this really what you want?” he asks instead. 

Your staring turns to squinting. With a start, he watches a small tear drip from the corner of your eye to your nostril, to your cupid's bow. 

“No,” you say carefully, “it’s not what I want. I don’t like you being against me.” 

“Then what’s making you feel this way?” 

You cover your eyes with one hand. “I wanted to do this over the phone,” you say in a squeeze. 

He reaches for you but doesn’t touch. “I couldn’t let you.” 

“I just want you to be happy,” you say, so high he can barely understand you. “I’ll never be like you, Aaron. You’re so smart, and you’ve done so much. You’re a hero, and you must look so stupid with me. What do you think people say when they realise what I am?” 

“It doesn’t matter to me what they say. I know you, and they don’t.”

“What about what I think?” 

“What do you think?” 

You wipe your face roughly, eyes lit with an anger he’s unprepared for. “I told you, don’t psychoanalyse me. I don’t want to have to explain it, I just want to say what I have to say. I don’t want to be with you because you won’t be happy, and neither will I.” 

Aaron isn’t too prideful to recognise when he needs to fight for what he wants. He reaches over the table and takes your arm into his hand, picking it up, feeling down The length of it until he’s curled his hand over your smaller fingers. “We are happy,” he says softly, giving your hand a small shake. “I understand where you’re coming from. When we first met, I couldn’t have predicted that I’d be here with you now. I do wonder what people think when they ask me what you do and I tell them you’re a performer. I know we agreed to it, but there are moments where I feel like I’m being cruel to you. But just because there’s a stigma surrounding what you do, it doesn’t mean that you’re any lesser than me. You’re not less intelligent, or less accomplished. We chose different paths and I’m glad we did. If you weren’t a dancer I never would’ve met you.” 

“Do you know how it feels for me to come home to you sometimes?” you ask weakly. 

“I’d hope it feels as it does for me. Every time I see you, I’m relieved.” 

“Aaron, I get this rush of safety, like you’re– I’m finally safe. I can take care of myself, you know that, but now I have you it’s that I don’t even want to. And that’s stupid. I know that that’s stupid.” 

“What I’m thinking,” he says, soft, not as worried about being without you now as he is of the horrible way you’re feeling, “is that you’ve thought about all of this a lot. I’m glad you’ve taken time to reflect on us and your life, but I wish you’d thought more about what we both want.” 

“I want you to be happy,” you argue, as you had a few moments ago. 

“And I’m never happier than when we’re together.” He shrugs. “Love isn’t about work. Your job shapes you as mine shapes me, but you have to know that who you are is what’s important.” 

“I don’t know who I am…” 

“I know exactly who you are,” he says, rubbing a loving thumb over your knuckles. 

“I’m… I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you, on the phone. I knew if I talked to you like this I’d be too much of a coward to really see it through.” 

“I see. You’ve planned my heartbreak weeks in advance.” 

You shake your head sadly. “Aaron, we’re not good for each other. You make me this awful, weak version of me, and I’m no good.” 

“We have been nothing but happy since we met.” Aaron pulls your hand up and kisses the side of your wrist. He isn’t ashamed of you. He doesn’t make you weak, you aren’t. “I don’t know how to explain it. Sometimes it feels like we’re from different worlds, but it’s not that melodramatic. You’re my partner. I love you. It’s hard not to think about what others think of us, but I know exactly what I think of you, and I know what you think of me, too.” 

You share a look. 

“I’ve never heard you talk so much,” you say, your frown fading. “I’m sorry.” 

“You haven’t done anything wrong.” 

“When I thought I couldn’t get any more embarrassing,” you mumble. 

“You aren’t embarrassing. Please, put the thought out of your head.” 

“Thought out of my head,” you repeat, still mumbling as you flex your fingers, pushing them between his and intertwining your hands. You bring them linked to your forehead and take a heavy breath. 

“Do you really want to break up?” he asks softly. 

Your breath warms his arm. “No.” 

“You can have the things you want, you know? I imagine that there are people who laugh when I tell them about you, but you have to know that their opinions would never matter to me.” He pulls his hand from your head to encourage you to meet his eyes. “No one else matters but me and you. We don’t have to factor in other people. We can just be together.” 

“I’m not worth all the fuss,” you say under your breath. 

“What, this fuss? Honey, a few weeks ago you cried in my lap because I got you that cake from the bakery. And you know what? I didn’t want you to cry, but getting to rub your back?” He chances a smile. “That made my night.” 

“You like making girls cry.” 

“Yes,” he says, trying not to grin like a fool as you stand from your chair and put yourself in front of him. He is no saint. He pulls you onto his thighs and wraps an arm around the small of your back, your legs either side of him. “That’s my goal in life, sweetheart.” His voice falls to a whisper as you hang your head against him, tip of your nose to a rough cheek. “Making you cry…” 

Your arms creep to his neck. Resting on him, rather than hugging. He doesn’t mind, he’ll do the hard work. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmur. 

“It’s okay.” He turns your face with his to press his lips to your cheek. “It’s alright, honey, bumps in the road happen with everyone.” 

“All my fault.” 

“Maybe next time, if you feel so strongly about something, you can just extend me that little bit of faith and… know that I’m here for you. Even if it did mean we wouldn’t be together, it doesn’t have to be that you’re alone, making such a big decision. Valiant,” he adds, enjoying the warmth of you seeping into his shirt, his face, his neck where your wrist is laid against it. “You’re not a coward. But I wish you wouldn’t be this brave about breaking my heart.” 

“Stop making me feel guilty.” 

His laugh is a breath against your cheek. “No, it’s fine, isn’t it? Use me and abuse me.” 

“Shut up. Stop, what is this weird guilt tripping you’re doing?” You laugh at his absurdity. “I’d never abuse you.” 

“I know. Just step on me a bit.” 

“Stop, stop,” you mumble, your voice turning slowly from self-pitying to honey, all that love for him he knew you still had like threads of gold shooting through it, “I don’t wanna step on you, I never would…” 

“Just rough me up a little.” 

“Never.” You press your face to his neck. “Thank you for not letting me do it.” 

“I won’t let you go so easily.” His hand trails up your back, feeling the softness of you beneath your t-shirt. Fat, muscle, all of it familiar, and treasured by his touching. 

He squeezes you rather tightly, then, but you don’t complain, you just sigh. 

“It’s not that you’re not who I picture for myself, like I said before,” you confess, leaning all your weight against him, barely held up by your legs either side of him. “You weren’t, but I didn’t realise that I could have you. I didn’t really know men like you existed. I should’ve known I was looking in the wrong age bracket.” 

“That’s not very nice. In my line of work they call that a feedback sandwich, honey. Something cruel between nice things to distract me.” 

“Sorry. Just had to get it in.” 

He considers your teasing a return to normalcy, guiding your head away from his with a hand to the back of your neck. “If this was a ploy to make me leave work early, consider it successful.” 

“I know your attention usually falls to other places, Mr. Hotchner–” You burst into giggles as he pinches the back of your neck, but it’s only to pull you in for a kiss, smiling against your parted lips as your laughter fades away.

You scrunch his shirt in your hand and kiss him nicely. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

“Forgiven.” Even if he did almost go into cardiac arrest at his desk. “I like begging to stay. It builds character.” 

“How long will you be like this?” you ask, shaking your head slowly, your smile poorly hidden. 

You’d needed a reminder, is all. Aaron isn’t solely business and sternness, he’s an idiot, your idiot, who likes to tease you, and doesn’t care who knows that. When he’s working he’s one person, and when he’s with you, he’s another. Both have their qualities and faults, but only one version is the one he needs to be with you. 

“At my age it’s perfectly normal to have a young and beautiful wife,” he says. “You’ve seen some of the other Section’s worker’s wives.” 

“I’m not that young,” you say. 

“So you admit it?” 

You reward him with a tired sigh, cuddling into his collar. 

—

…I'll never be your beast of burden. So let's go home and draw the curtains…

Aaron’s humming from the bedroom. He knows every classic rock song to exist, every word to every Beatles song. When the chorus comes, he sings under his breath, but you can hear him regardless. “Am I rough enough, am I rich enough? I’m not too blind…” he fades off. 

The music hums under your feet. Record player open on the floor, his Some Girls vinyl on the plate. 

You press a hand down your side. 

To inspire less worry on your part, you and Aaron are trying to be more open about the other sides of your lives. His work feels alien to you, and you worry that yours is dirty to him, despite reassurance that a job is a job. You know that already, but you can’t make yourself believe that he’s as happy as he could be if you were, say, a checkout girl. 

You’d make a cute checkout girl, he’d said. 

This is cute, too. Babydoll lingerie with feather edgings, starkly white against your skin. You fluff out the ends and neaten the crotch of your panties. Nothing is on show that shouldn’t be, but it’s still lingerie. It’s meant to excite. 

“Honey,” he says, dulcet tone carrying to the bathroom, “are you stuck again?” 

You laugh. “I bet you hope so.” 

“That’s accusatory in nature.” 

“I’m coming.” You give it a last glance in the mirror and head into the bedroom. 

Aaron’s sat against your headboard, flowery pillowcases behind his head and back. He discards the little figurine he’d been playing with out of boredom and looks you up and down, corners of his lips curling. 

“Home only,” he says. 

“I knew you’d say that.” 

“You look stunning.” His eyes seem darker. All pupil. 

“I have to wear some of these at the club, Aaron, that’s why I bought them.” 

Something in your voice makes him smile. “You said I could veto the ones that are too beautiful.” 

“I said too slutty.” 

“Honey, they’re all revealing in their ways. And I don’t have a problem with it…” He takes a breath. “Much. But some of these are meant for…” 

“The man who loves me?”

“Exactly.” 

He’d said something similar about the light blue set with darker flowers, the black set that showed the curves of your chest, and especially about the pink one-piece with white ribbons. That one gave him pause. 

“Spin?” he asks. 

One day it might bother Aaron that you dance, but for now he’s gently approving. Just wants you to be happy. So you do a little spin without any attempt to be sexy and beam when he whistles. 

“Beautiful. Really, honey, that’s the nicest so far.” 

“I have a confession.” 

“Yeah?” 

“This one was for you.” 

He’d know if you were lying. “For me?” he says, in that tone bordering stern, as much of his professionalism as you’re used to hearing these days. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Don’t,” he says, seductions gone as he tips his head back into a pillow patterned with lavender and peony. “Unless you’re done trying those on, I don’t want to hear it.” 

“This is the last one.” 

“In that case.” He covers his face with a cushion. 

You look down. Your stomach is a little bloated from lunch, and you have a shaving rash on your left knee, but Aaron won’t mind. He never does. Without worry, you tread to the side of the bed and climb onto it, one leg over his lap. The last time you’d been sitting in his lap, you’d been teary-eyed and regretful. Fuck, what was I thinking? you ask yourself, slipping a hand under his rising shirt to feel his abdomen. It’ll never not be weird, the FBI man and his stripper girlfriend, but it doesn’t have to make sense to anyone but him and you. 

You ease the pillow down his face. 

“Are you blushing, Aaron?” you ask. 

“Not purposefully.” 

“You look a little… hot.” 

“That makes two of us.” 

It starts slowly. The heat of you atop him, the pillows moved out of the way. You didn’t expect him to stay unbothered as you paraded your new spoils, but his willpower is remarkable, and he only breaks when you let yourself settle on his lap. His big hand cups your face. 

“That’s funny.” You lift up enough to be in kissing range, but don’t kiss. You just wait for him to react, holding your weight off of his chest. 

He finds the small of your back and drags. Your gasp isn’t your own, a breathy, excited thing as he brings your face to his for a kiss. Your lips almost immediately part in anticipation of his eagerness, of his hand on the back of your neck, and the unflinching heat of his mouth as he turns his head. Your noses brush. He wades in deeper, his own breath already failing him as the bridges of your nose press hard. 

They aren’t rough kisses, but there’s something desperate there. He holds you to him until he can’t, ushering you onto your back, his weight bearing down sudden and steady. 

“I can’t believe I nearly lost you,” he utters, stroking your cheek, edging back in to kiss you before you can reply. 

You wrap an arm behind his back and hike your leg, soft thigh naked and waiting for his touch. You didn’t nearly lose me, you think. To be lost, you’d have to be something worth losing, and you’re not sure you are, but Aaron? 

“I don’t think you could,” you mumble, forcing him to kiss your cheek, your jaw, the line of your throat. He nips at your neck, a shudder racing through you. 

“I have no intent of letting it come that close again, sweetheart.” 

His hand dances up your side to the soft hill of your chest. 

You hold the hair from his face and let him kiss you. He’s here to stay, no matter how odd a pairing you might make. You love him. That’s all he cares about. 

“Want me to do that thing you like?” you offer softly, mildly playful. 

He laughs into your neck. “No,” he says, “I think tonight is about you, hm? You’re all dressed up. I think that deserves a reward.” 

You knew he’d like the white babydoll. 

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

[hyuckmov]

haechan — settle down (rockstar hyuck) | part 3 of 3

wc: 11k (lol) genre: angst, smut (18+ minors dni), fluff warnings: unprotected sex, making out, creampies, fingering, oral (f recieving), lowkey don't have that dog in me anymore so this is kind of vanilla, dirty talk, aftercare...? needs to be read after part 1 and 2 a/n: fucking finally. so so so sorry for the wait and also this is lowkey probably so BAD because its been a hot minute since i've written for tumblr. because this could be written/ended in so many ways, AN EPILOGUE IS COMING with a 'happy' ending, just not putting it here in this part because i think i should post this out first on it's own. i love you guys so much, thank you to every single person who's read, commented, let me know how much you liked it, and waited so patiently. i cannot express how much it means to me.

—

"whose party is this again?" 

"jaemin's friend chenle," mark says, placing his drink down on one of the tables. "think they should be around here somewhere." 

through the smoke, he can see your eyes shine. you've come even closer now, and it's as if every movement of yours is liquified, rendered in slow-motion – you flick a strand of hair out of your face and it's like he can feel the damp air on your cheeks, a slow smile spreading across your face like sunrise spilling over the horizon, that lovely curl of your lip that he's memorized. he feels his chest cave in when he hears you laugh, feel you take another step closer to him even though your eyes never meet his, even though you never look his way – every memory he has of you threatening to burst through his seams. 

your skin glows under the dizzying lights, and all he can think about is the fact that you’re so close, he could reach out his hand and touch you. but he can’t. you weren't his – and he was the one who had thrown you away.

jisung comes up to you, and haechan can see his friend's shy smile met with your beaming grin as you turn to face him. jisung is saying something to you – a hand gently placed on your shoulder as he speaks into your ear, the other gesturing vaguely towards the upstairs rooms. and then you're nodding, and haechan watches wide-eyed as he takes your hand in his and begins guiding you up the stairs. 

he can't help it – he only waits a beat, enough for you to disappear up the stairs, before he's rushing through the crowd, climbing the stairs two at a time. he rounds the corner just as he sees the flick of your skirt as you disappear into the nearest room, the door clicking shut softly. taking a moment to calm himself down – chest heaving, wringing his hands – he pads softly towards the room, placing both hands on the door, straining to hear anything that might be going on. 

low voices. the rustling of fabric. haechan's imagination spun out of control – jisung's large hands on your skin, his plush lips exploring your neck, your soft sounds, the way you might look under him. he heard a light laugh, and he pressed even closer to try to catch what was being said – what if he had you on his lap? what if you laughed because he'd kissed you behind the ear like haechan did once? it had caught you by surprise, and you'd giggled – burying your face in the crook of his neck. you were sorry. you were just sensitive. haechan had wanted to pull you into his chest and never let you go. 

he knew he was breaking his own heart – over-analyzing each muffled sound that came through, all his thoughts drifting back to memories of you. but he couldn't seem to peel himself away as the party raged on and on downstairs, didn't want to be anywhere else but near you even if you didn't know he was there. he had never felt this way with anyone else before – never needed anyone else like this, never afraid like this – and the realisation roared loud in his ears along with the feverish ghost of your fingerprints all over his skin. 

–

jisung knows haechan's going to talk to him. 

can see it in the way he hangs back after practice, fiddling with his guitar and placing it back on its stand, before picking it back up again for no real reason. there was something off, slightly, about haechan these days. not enough for jeno or mark to comment about it, to hold an intervention, but things had definitely changed – haechan never brought around girls, or showed any interest when jeno and mark would discuss them. he was quiet, and subdued during practice, absorbed in his own guitar, or else discussing new songs with mark in low voices. and strangest of all – jisung mused, slinging his own bass over his shoulder as he ambled to the door – haechan started to seem afraid of jisung. 

jisung – who had for the longest time been the most timid and shy of the group, the least experienced by far. he remembered how haechan would tease him if a girl paid him any slightest bit of attention: half-joking, but half trying to build up his friend's confidence. he remembered how he used to be wary of haechan's attention at after-show parties, because haechan would watch him like a hawk and push him into any girls he showed the vaguest interest in. he remembered his shock at haechan, who had never been mean or vindictive – a pain sometimes yes, but never truly cruel to him –, standing there obstinately in his place on stage, staring down at you in the crowd. 

to the version of haechan now, who could barely look him in the eye. 

"jisung?" 

haechan clears his throat. jisung stops in his tracks, turning back to look at haechan. 

"yeah?" 

haechan's gaze is directed at his shoes. swallowing, he takes a moment before he asks. "uh…how was…um…how've you been?" 

jisung has to stop himself from laughing out loud. "i've been good," he says, amiably. he's not going to let haechan have it easy. 

"nice…nice," haechan mumbles. "uh…seeing anybody?" 

"haechan," he keeps his tone light. "come on." he moves towards where haechan is standing awkwardly, taking a seat down on one of the stools. after a beat, haechan sits down too. 

"how did it go with y/n?" haechan sounds almost timid – like a child asking a question, but scared of knowing the answer. 

"can't you ask her yourself?" he knows he's making things difficult, but he needs haechan to work for it. needs haechan to articulate, because he knows that's the least you deserve. 

"i…i could," haechan says. "but i…i don't want to seem possessive. i already fucked up by wishing her luck on the date and i just…" he buries his face in his hands. jisung doesn't say a thing, waiting for him to finish his sentence. "i don't want to hurt her anymore…but i need to know. i need to know what to expect.…" haechan's voice is so small, like he's disappearing into himself. 

"haechan…" he starts, slowly, but haechan cuts in, hurriedly. 

"if you really love her, jisung, if you're happy together, i'll back off. i won't see her again. it'll be…it'll be too hard to see her with you but that's for me to figure out. you…you should both be happy. she deserves you, ji. you'll be good for each other." 

"what are you even saying…" jisung lets out a nervous laugh. he knows haechan tends to get dramatic – loves blowing moments out of proportion, lingering on stories that were fun to tell and relive. loves to exaggerate – always taking the smallest details too seriously and making light of things that had real consequences. but as he watches haechan – curled in on himself, he sees that this is something else entirely. this haechan was anxious and overthinking, unsure of himself, fractured into a thousand different wants and needs. 

"i'm serious, jisung." haechan, the vocalist he is, keeps his voice as steady as possible. "i'll back off if you tell me to. if i'm making it hard for you in any way…" 

"haechan, it's…it's going to be fine. it's not what you think." 

"you…you're not together now?" a hint of hopefulness. 

jisung chooses to be kind. "we're not," he says, gently. when haechan's lips part, he continues on, interrupting him. "it had nothing to do with you. we're just…not." 

"i'm sorry," haechan murmurs, finally lifting his head. "i know you wanted it to work out." he truly means it.

"i'm happy with the way things are now," jisung says it, and he means it too. "but…but you know she's going to start seeing other people, right?" 

a beat. "yeah…yeah of course." 

"you can't go after all of them and ask them if it's working out or not, you know?" jisung says, wryly. "at some point…you need to just talk to her." 

"i…" haechan break off, a pained expression flitting over his face. "i don't have anything to say. but i really want her to be happy. i just want her to be happy. but it sounds…" he catches the look on jisung's face. "i know it sounds like a guilt-trip. i know what it sounds like." 

"give her space," jisung suggests, quietly. "figure out what you're willing to give. who you can be for her."

"hyuck or haechan." he says it almost spitefully. he had never hated the difference more. 

-

you were in the crowd today. 

it had been a little over a month – 6 days more, to be exact, – since haechan had last seen you in the crowd, each time spotting your face easily, everyone else fading to nothing. each time noting every which way your eyes shimmered under the lights, the ways your pretty lips curved into a smile or a shout, or even each time you looked away, distracted. 

he'd practically rushed into the dressing room after the show ended, anxious hands tugging at his clothes, trying to fix himself up just in case you decided to come find him. questions had spun around in his mind so much during the show, he was afraid he would start singing them in place of mark's carefully written lyrics. he's thought of a thousand ways to bring it up, but he wishes he could just ask — how've you been? have you forgotten me? 

he's still lost in thought when the dressing room door opens softly, the lock turning gently in the door barely louder than a whisper. 

"haechan?" 

he turns, and you're there. you're wearing a new dress, probably the shortest one he's ever seen on you, black glittery fabric barely brushing the tops of your thighs. but he doesn't linger on your body, his eyes seeking out your own, the flush of anticipation and adrenaline in your cheeks, the way your hair falls slightly loose, framing your face. the question is on the tip of his tongue, his lips are parting, his breath catches in his throat –  

" – don't worry," you say, breathlessly, as you catch the look on his face. "no one saw me." 

oh. 

walking towards him, you pull him into a hug, arms wrapping around his neck, so you can brush your lips against his cheek. pulling away, you peer at him, wondering why he's looking at you so lost. like he was wondering something since he laid eyes on you tonight.

you frown. "were you going to ask me something else?" 

his lips part, soundlessly. you've never seen him so speechless. his arms tentatively circle around your waist, fingers brushing the fabric of your dress, and understanding dawns on you. 

"yes, it's a new dress," you smile. 

he swallows, the cloudy look clearing from his eyes as he finally runs his heavy touch down your back, a feeling you've grown used to. 

his tone is slightly darker when he plays along, masking the traces of disappointment. "for me?" 

you nod, letting his hands wander to the zipper, eyes traveling to the mirror to catch the way he fiddles with it, slowly starting to drag it down your spine. 

what you don't catch, is the way he's looking at you – lip caught between his teeth, eyes focused on the side of your face, regret and sadness and a desire he still couldn't shake coursing through his body. you had come back – and maybe that was all that he should care about. 

"come home with me," he blurts out, suddenly. "i have to show you something." 

confused, you look back at him, frowning. "now?" 

he swallows. "yes. we'll still…it's just…" he stammers, confidence draining as he watches you zip your dress back up. "i mean…i just…thought you'd like my bedroom more than this dressing room. you said- you said it was uncomfortable, that last time…" he trails off. his head droops, fingers picking at his nails. 

you place your hands on his chest. his head lifts just slightly, glancing at you through his lashes. "haechan," the ache in your chest making your voice soft – barely above a whisper. "why are you so nervous today?" 

"i'm sorry," he starts, but you shake your head. "it's been awhile."

"that's fine, i'll go home with you," you say, smiling, hoping to reassure him. the words instantly relax him, and he lets out a breath. you can feel his chest move under your palms. 

"i'm sorry," he repeats, softly, but you don't know what he's saying it for. 

–

you don't know how you ended up here. 

one moment, haechan was unlocking his door, one hand fumbling with the keys as he held yours tightly in his other palm. the next, you were pushing him against the door – his plush lips, soft and tasting slightly like honeyed lip balm, finally kissing you deeply in a way you'd craved. and then he was sweeping you up into his arms, your legs locked in around his waist, his bag slumping to the floor as he focused all his attention on you. placing you on the countertop, he takes his time with your lips – his hand first cupping your face, then working its way down your neck, as if he was making sure you were wholly real through touch since his eyes were closed for the kiss. 

"hyuck?" you murmur. 

guilt pricks at your conscience when you feel him falter. you would never admit that you realized the name did something to him – made him more desperate and more tender all at once. you used it sparingly, only in certain moments, and tonight seemed just right for it, what with the way his touch was already so infused with longing. 

he hums in acknowledgement, pausing. a gentle palm tilts your face towards his, and his eyes are wide and patient. 

"what's wrong?" he asks. 

"i want to suck you off," you mumble, your words coming out rushed and careless. you almost think he might not catch it, but haechan goes still. his hands, caressing your face, stop moving.  

"what?"

your mind explodes with a million thoughts. did he not want you to? how many girls had sucked him off before you – did he think you wouldn't be good enough? was he not attracted to you enough? 

he was still just looking at you – something unreadable in his eyes. 

"do you not want me to?" you ask, doubt making your tone come off a little more insecure than you'd have liked. "is it…is it because i've never done it before?" 

he blinks. "what?" he repeats, again. 

you shift, uneasy. "you can teach me," you insist, holding onto his arms, wanting to be closer to him. "i'll practice…" 

"oh god," he whispers. "oh… oh y/n…" his hands barely skim your skin, nervously tucking your hair behind your ear. "don't," he says, quietly. 

"why?"

i don't want to hurt you," he says, voice so tender it wavers under the weight of his feelings for you. "being able to touch you is already everything to me-" he trails off, biting his lip, and then he's weak in the knees, and you melt into his embrace as he holds your body against his. "i don't want you to do anything you're uncomfortable with." 

"i want to please you like the girls before," you protest, weakly. "i want to…i want you to tell me your fantasies." 

"all that matters to me," he says, slowly, eyes suddenly grave and solemn. "is that i'm here with you. just you." he holds your hands up to his lips and kisses the tips of your fingers. 

you don't know what to say. the charged atmosphere from before has dissolved into the night, leaving a balmy and sweet taste on your tongue. the only thing that feels right is to hold him in your arms and hold him as close as you can. 

he's looking at you, before suddenly pulling you into him as if he could read your mind – arms wrapped protectively around your back, one hand coming up to stroke your hair as you lean into his chest. 

the memory of that first night comes back to you – the first time he rejected you. he hadn't wanted to hurt you then, either. and then he proceeded to in all ways possible – playing with your heart in a terrible back and forth. and then he disappeared from your life, and then he came back and something was different – in the way he touched you, looked for you, looked at you, was careful with you. 

but you moved on – told jaemin, told yourself you weren't waiting. you'd gone on a date with jisung, and then to some more with a few other guys on campus. you didn't hang around the band all the time now – didn't show up for every concert. and even when you did, you rarely stopped by to see haechan – spending more and more time with jisung, who was steadily becoming one of your closest friends. 

you tried to keep things light when you did visit haechan. always easy, relishing in how well he knew how to please you, how he always knew what to say. and for the most part, he was able to play along – a smile always tugging at the corner of his lips, or his tongue poking into his cheek as his eyes turned dark. 

but it was on nights like these – when the moon was a bit too bright and the air between your lips and his dense like honey, your skin heated and his face flushed – when you used the wrong name, or he said things too vulnerable and too intimate. it was on nights like these when you are faced with the reality that he made you feel the way no one else could – even as he was ever-changing, ever showing you a different side of himself. on these nights you plunge your hands deep into the kaleidoscope of him, and its like diving into shattered glass. 

–

"i wanted to show you this," he murmurs, shyly. 

he places a pair of headphones clumsily on your head, his long fingers scrambling to adjust it on your head, trying not to pull at your hair. your hands come up to help, and you shoot him a reassuring smile. 

it was even later in the night. you were both showered and dressed for bed – you in a long-sleeved shirt of his that you liked. when you came into the bedroom, he was fiddling with his laptop – and you could hear snippets of his honey-sweet voice starting and stopping as he tapped at his keyboard. it was natural, to head over to the bed and lean your head on his shoulder, as he started to explain to you what he was doing, eventually grabbing his headphones from the bedside table. his skin smells faintly of baby powder, and his bare face under the dim light is so soft – mellowed curves, the constellation of moles on his cheek ever visible, eyes tired but warm. 

he clicks play, and his voice fills your ears – clean, without any backing vocals or instruments. you try to catch the lyrics, but he mumbles through his words, voice meandering effortlessly around the melodies, drawing beautiful loops. his voice is delicate and gentle, flowing water with a current of electricity running through it, humming and buzzing with dangerous life. 

it ends all too quickly, and haechan – who was watching your face carefully the entire time, clicks on a few more tracks. you can hear his voice, muffled from under the headphones, start to explain. 

"that's…that's my draft for the melody. i made it for this, uh, it's one of mark's demos–" 

a sultry, low beat now plays, low strings filling in the gaps. when his voice leaks in, you feel your cheeks start to heat up. the same melody from before – so innocuous and sweet, maybe something even vulnerable – sounds sinful all of a sudden. you can practically hear the scream of the crowd punctuating each line, and now even the way he mumbles is hazed with a sort of suggestive glow. 

you look at him, wide-eyed. he's still watching your face, this time his lip caught between his teeth, looking up at you through his lashes. when the song ends, you tug the headphones down from your ears, and he takes them from you absentmindedly.

"mark told me to try writing for that. he said it suited my voice —" 

"it does," you respond. your hands reach out to play with his, tracing the way his fingers curved, running your touch along his calloused finger-tips. 

"but i…i don't know. i want to write something…something that feels…" he stumbles over his words, eyes lingering on the way your hands play with his, the gentleness of your touch. "that feels like this," he finishes, softly. 

"like what?" you hum, tracing loops on the back of his hand. 

but he doesn't respond. 

"do you like it?" he asks, quietly. 

you give his hand a squeeze. "sing it for me?" 

his hand trails off to the keyboard again, but you hold it steady in your palm. "no, sing it for me now. here." 

he's still. you almost think he won't do it, but then he's pushing the screen of his laptop shut, and he turns to face you. 

this time, when he sings, he gets all the words out. 

in person, his voice is hushed and soft, like every word is a secret. his eyes flutter shut, and he ducks his head shyly as he continues. when he ends, his voice trails off, and he doesn't turn to look at you, staring at his hands. you stay silent, until it's like he can't bear it, and his head turns to face you, eyes seeking reassurance. 

"i like it just like this," you tell him, softly. 

his smile blooms. 

—

"keep haechan on his toes," jaemin says, leaning back in his chair. the steam from the coffee he made – a 2am jaemin specialty — curled gently in the air, your hands nursing the mug in front of you, sipping just to have something to do. "don't see him for awhile. keep him guessing." 

"that's cruel," you mumble. 

"he's done crueler," he points out. "you know you don't owe him anything, right?"

"i know i don't," you say, slowly. "i just think that it would kill me not to know how he's doing. if he was going on dates with other people…" 

"and would he tell you?" 

no, is your automatic answer, one you can't run from in your head, but jisung cuts in. 

"he wouldn't go on a date with someone else," he shakes his head, leaning back in his chair so he could stretch out his long limbs. blinking sleep from his eyes, he shook his head again to clear his bangs away from his eyes. it had been late already when he showed up, after a show, bringing food, a tired but giddy smile on his face. "you really fucked him up, that's all i'm going to say."

"he may not go on a date, but he'd fuck someone else, probably." jaemin rolls his eyes. 

"we actually haven't fucked in awhile." the realization feels like butterflies in your chest – an uneasy, fluttery feeling. 

"what?" jisung looks at you in disbelief. "sorry," he adds, suddenly sheepish when both you and jaemin stare at him. "i just thought that was the big part of your relationship." 

"it was…" you say, slowly. ignoring how jisung said 'relationship' when it was really never that. "but…but i don't know. recently we always get distracted…or… or he's… i don't know." 

you think of his unmade bed. the careful, tender loop of his arm around your waist. you think of the way his lashes flutter when you lean in to kiss him – 

and yet, there was something bigger bothering you about this, something that tugged at your gut, the words forcing themselves out of you. 

"i hate that it feels like there's nothing more to me than this." 

"y/n, what are you talking about?" jaemin asks, his voice quiet. when you pause, he presses on, urgency in every word. "what did he say to you?" 

"nothing," you shake your head. "he didn't say that to me, it's something i feel. no matter who i'm with…even when i'm alone….i can't run from it." you take a breath. you hated admitting this, but jaemin's eyes were kind as they looked into yours. "even when we weren't talking, i was thinking about him…and tonight…jaemin i don't think anyone should be able to make me feel like this." 

“there's nothing wrong with being in love," he says, carefully. when you don't say a word, he continues on, as gentle as possible. "you know that no amount of attention he gives you will change the way you feel, right?" 

he was right. if you really dared to dream – to use up every last shooting star, count on all of the angel numbers — and haechan, donghyuck, gave himself to you fully like you wanted, you would still be afraid of losing him. a sick flutter beats in your chest at the passing thought of him slipping away again – that all this fight would have been for nothing. 

it was as if jaemin could read your mind. "there was a life before him," he reassures you. "there is so much more without him. you just need to start living like it, to really see it."

you had nodded, but you couldn't shake the feeling that no matter how many shows you skipped, no matter how many times you drove by his apartment or ignored his messages, it wouldn't change a thing: that even though there was a life before him, maybe it wasn't one that you wanted anymore.

—

you're cutting through the park on your way home from class, when you hear a shout of your name. you barely have time to turn before a small girl is launching herself at your legs, standing high on her tip-toes to throw her arms around your waist. 

"slow down!" 

you'd know that voice anywhere. 

haechan looks different. he's dressed in a striped sweater, glasses askew on his small nose. your heart skips a beat – he looks warm, and cozy, and comfortable. behind the frames, his eyes glow when he looks at you, an involuntary smile tugging at his lips. 

the two of you just stand there, looking into each other's eyes. every sense of yours is heightened –  the autumn air cold on your skin. the light catching everything around you. and your heart beating in your chest, speeding up with every moment you continue looking at him. you can't help it: even now you smile looking at his face. 

he raises his eyebrows. 

"what?" you blurt out, caught off-guard. 

he laughs lightly. "what are you doing here?" he asks, like he's explaining a question. 

"just…passing through," you say, slowly. "you?" 

"the…uh…kindergarten's right near here." haechan point vaguely at a point in the distance, you only look at it for a second before you focus back on him. you can't help it. he smiles again. "you're just passing through? can't you stay for awhile? we were going to get ice cream." 

his sister tugs at your sweater, excited at the sound of ice cream. you look down at her face – she has the same nose as her brother, the same bright smile. 

"just for a bit," you concede. haechan pumps his fist, playing up his excitement to make his sister laugh. it makes your heart go still and race all at the same time. 

—

"we need to talk." 

there was something wrong with haechan. 

the smell of rain and cigarettes hung in the alley behind the dingy venue. haechan sits on the steps with his head in his hands, jeno leaning on the wall opposite, jisung against the doorway behind. it's mark who stands directly in front of him, as he rubs his face with his hands, trying to calm down. mark who crouches down, mark's prying hands which make haechan lift his head to look at them. 

"what happened?" he asks, his eyes blazing. 

haechan swallows. "it's been a bad day," he tries, weakly. 

"it's been a bad month," jeno corrects. at haechan's glare, he raises his eyebrows in a silent challenge, and it's jisung who pipes up.

"i think people are starting to notice something's off," he says, softly. "that you play differently, sometimes."

"you mean that he messes up when she's not in the crowd," jeno says, bitterly. 

"i only messed up today," haechan mumbles. "it won't happen again." 

"what about yesterday? it's like you weren't onstage at all." jeno protests. 

haechan opens his mouth, but closes it. he knew this conversation had to happen, that things would lead to this – his fingers faltering, his mind going blank as his solo began. jeno's drums continuing relentlessly, mark's eyes on him, as he shook his head fiercely, trying to clear his mind and focus all at once. unsure of what to keep — the image of you, or the chords he'd worked so hard to get right. 

"hyuck, do you need a break?" mark asked, his words slow and gentle. "we can stop performing for awhile, cancel some of our gigs…"

"no," he breathes.  "don't." he doesn't want to lose all of it – and because he knew that if he stopped performing, he didn't know if he would ever see you again. 

and it's like jeno reads his mind. "she's not going to like you like this," jeno says, his voice impersonal. "she likes the version of you onstage, remember? it's how she first met you, it's what kept her coming back for more." 

"jeno." mark's voice is stern, but haechan looks up right past him, hurt pooling in his eyes. 

"i know," he breathes. "i know that. but i don't know if i can be that around her anymore." 

"not just around her," jisung notes. "you're not haechan anymore. it doesn't make you happy." 

"i know," he repeats, quieter this time. 

"hyuck, listen," mark sighs. "you're not doing yourself any good going onstage like this. i'm canceling the next few shows –" as haechan protests, he cuts him off with a hand on his shoulder. "no. we could all use a break." 

"mark," haechan croaks. "i can't." 

"we'll still have practice," mark says, firmly. "you still have to show up for all of it. and those songs i told you to work on —" 

"you should go home," jisung adds. "take care of your sister." 

there's a pause, as they wait for jeno to chime in. 

"none of it matters if you don't figure it out with her," he says, a tone of finality ringing in his words. he straightens, broad shoulders squared, suddenly much bigger under the lights. "if you need to get over it, you have to. staying like this is hurting everyone." 

haechan's lips part, soundlessly. there's a sharp creak, as jeno stalks back into the venue, followed by mark – who pats haechan gently on the shoulder. vaguely, haechan waits for the sound of jisung's soft steps to fade, but they only shuffle closer, until the lanky boy drops down next to him. his legs stretch out into the dingy alley, as haechan hugs his knees closer to his chest, for the first time perhaps truly afraid of what he was about to hear from his friend.

"sometimes, we meet the right person at the wrong time-" jisung's voice is quiet, almost a murmur, but the words still scrape against haechan's skin, rough like sand. 

"don't say that." he bites his lip harshly, a sudden rush of anger at the pity in jisung's responding sigh. "don't fucking say that." 

"haechan, it's okay. she liked you, but then she moved on after you realised you —" 

"she didn't –" his fist clenches, restless in his lap. "she didn't move on." 

"really? not at all?" jisung's eyes are fixed on haechan's, holding his gaze. "after weeks of telling her you couldn't give her what she wanted…you think she's still waiting for you?" 

"ji-"

"why should she wait for you?" 

haechan swallows. "she shouldn't," he mumbles. "i…i need to really let her go. jeno's right." he truly means it.

jisung hesitates. he's been spending more time with you, as friends – joining on your movie nights with jaemin, or else baking together, or letting you style him for shows and concerts. and the more time he spends with you, really gets to know you, the more he can see why you and haechan seem to need each other. your patience and gentleness matched the soft way he's seen haechan take care of his sister and at times, mark. he watched the way you sometimes falter – worry overtaking your features for a split second when you stop at a red light, or your teeth tugging at your bottom lip as you stand in front of the stove – and instinctively he can imagine haechan's confidence, his natural propensity to make everything seem easy, fitting in with you and taking care of you. 

but he knew that haechan could only give you his attention – not his heart, not until he was brave enough to admit how much you meant to him. 

your resolve to stay friends with him was as flimsy as haechan's promise to let you go. jisung almost wanted to laugh at the insistence both of you had, upon lying to yourselves. 

"be honest," he says, gently. "what do you want?" when haechan doesn't answer, jisung's low voice continues on, coaxingly. "what's your best-case scenario? what do you want to happen?" 

haechan takes a deep breath. "i don't know." 

jisung tries to hide his disappointment. "do you not know, or are you not ready to say it?" 

"i don't know," haechan mumbles again, burying his face in his hands. i don't know if i deserve it. 

the two of them sit there for a long, long, time. 

–

there was something wrong with haechan.

something's different. that's what jeno had said earlier, after the show. exhausted from sleepless nights, screaming fans making him feel nauseous, haechan barely paid attention to anything during his performances except for his own guitar. he hardly looked at the crowd, didn't acknowledge their pleas of his name, as if it wasn't one he recognised at all. 

he'd started missing parties, and was barely there even if he showed — ignoring the way girls swarmed around him, wondering if he was playing a new game, one where they had to work harder to earn his attention. it was a game they never won, his eyes trained on his cup, or else on the door. 

but out of all of haechan's bad habits, this might be the worst of them – sitting in the living room past midnight, sipping down to the last dregs of his alcohol, waiting for the knock on his door. 

it was late now — so late that the hours had bled into the next day. he hadn't seen you at the concert, not at the party, and despite telling himself not to dream, not to hope, he still carried enough desperation in him to stay up again. 

he's relieved he did. 

his hands shake as he opens the door. his hands falling to his sides as he drinks in the sight of you, letting you in. 

"hi," you breathe, and you don't ask before you lean into him, soft lips brushing his plush ones. 

he's at a loss for words, his tongue numb in his mouth, limbs still heavy from how tired he'd been all day. he lets you guide him to the couch, into the cushions. lets you straddle his hips, holding your body close to his with careful arms, as he meets your kisses gently.

something's different, but haechan's not the only one who's changed. on nights like these, all you do is take and take and take. 

"i haven't seen you in a while," he murmurs. quietly, softly, the words almost getting lost between kisses. immediately after he says the words, he slots his lips with yours firmly, as if afraid of what you would say if he let the space between you and him grow. 

"i've been busy." at the crestfallen look on his face, a small smile tugs at your lips, and you lean in to brush your lips with his. "why? did you miss me?" 

"i did," he says, almost timid. "i missed you."

at this, you raise your eyebrows. "you could have had anyone else." 

but he shakes his head. "i missed you," he repeats, hands mapping your skin, as if checking if you were really here, seeking the familiar way you fit into his palms, your slopes and your edges. 

"i missed you too," you say, meaningfully, letting him pull you in for another kiss. but when you push against him, body rocking into his and mouth open and wanting, the glow in your eyes tells him you're talking about something else entirely. 

his mind races. the feeling of you against him wakes him up like nothing else, the way you touch him, your smell and your taste setting fire to all his senses. there's something sweet about your lips tonight, something he wants to savor on his tongue and drown in all at once. 

he doesn't want to waste any of this, because this was the only thing you ever wanted to see him for — and that's what he tells himself as he pulls you into his body, because finally, finally, your attention is all on him, an electric heat simmering over each fibre of his being, the feeling of your body too sweet to be true.

but it's been one too many nights he's waited, a weight on his chest and a drowsiness he can't shake overcoming him like a cloyingly sweet poison. 

"i–" he's cut off by a shuddering inhale as your lips travel down to his neck, your hips grinding against him just right. "baby, i'm sorry," he tries again, his hands now gripping onto your waist, trying to steady you, even as he gives up. "i don't think i can take care of you tonight." 

you still. 

"don't go, please," he begs. "i'm sorry, it's been…it's been a long day and i…" he breaks off. the performance. the fight with the band. the fact that he'd been drinking for hours, the starless sky inky black outside his window, his fingers still stinging from plucking at guitar strings all night. "just give me a second," he stammers, burying his face in his hands, tugging at his features, before looking up at you with tired eyes. "i'll be fine in a minute, then we'll go to the bedroom, i just —" 

your hands slide down the slope of his shoulders. 

"don't go," he repeats, hands fumbling for yours as he brings them up to his lips, like a prayer. "i can take care of you, i promise. just…" 

"donghyuck," you say, softly. again you smile, cupping his face in your palms. his round cheeks, plush lips, the slight flare of his nose. he almost goes cross-eyed staring at you, as you lean in close and kiss him again – this one different from the rest, close-lipped and chaste. 

"hyuck, let me take care of you tonight, okay?" 

caught in a riptide of his own longing, he lets go. 

"you don't have to do anything," he mumbles. his hands tentatively touch your waist, the barest brush of his fingertips, before he's encircling you in his arms, easing you into his chest. slowly, tentatively, he holds you close by the weight of his arms, a large hand reassuringly patting the space right beneath your heart – clumsy, rhythmic thumps that trailed off into a lingering warmth. "i just want to hold you here, like this." 

he can feel the tension that spreads down your spine, your breath caught in your throat. your lips are parted, your eyes looking at his in an unreadable expression. 

"do you not like it?" he asks, his voice small. his hands fall from your waist, nervously tugging his sleeves down over his palms. "i…i'm just…" 

"i do," you say, slowly. and because your faces are so close, the thought is barely crossing your mind before you press your lips against his. it's supposed to be quick, reassuring, but the look on haechan's face when you pull back makes you lean in again right away. 

it was a look that was open and hurt, his hands still tangled in his lap. his eyes stayed open as you kissed him, as if he couldn't dare believe it was real — finally blinking shut when you kissed him again, his slight relief melting on your tongue. his teeth sunk into his bottom lip as you clumsily got up off the couch, and as you straightened, he ducked away from your gaze, staring at his hands. 

"hyuck," you start, but he shakes his head. 

"it's fine." he still wouldn't look at you - fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "you don't have to stay, it's late." 

"hyuck, listen to me." 

"i know," he says, quickly. the slightest trace of fear in his voice. "you don't….you don't have to remind me, i know. it's too…you said we couldn't…"

" — hyuck, i wasn't going to say that." 

his fingers falter, but he stays silent. 

"i can't fall asleep properly in your lap," you explain, slowly. "let's go to bed, okay?" 

he looks up then. "really?" 

"i said i want to take care of you," you repeat, his wide eyes making you feel shy all of a sudden. "i mean it." 

he lets you take his hands, body following pliantly as he stands from the couch, as you lead him to his bedroom, his eyes focused on your intertwined hands. it's both a familiar and unfamiliar feeling — crawling into his bed with his clothes on your body, sinking into the soft sheets and letting the senses of him wash over you. the usual buzz of pleasure isn't there, and its a different tiredness that seeps through your veins, one that comes with feeling safe. 

since when did you start feeling safe with him? 

you feel his weight sink in behind you, the duvet rustling against skin as he turns. an arm curls around your waist. his head lowers into the crook of your neck – you can feel his soft hair, his pouty lips brushing your shoulders in a light kiss. 

"the band is taking a break," he mumbles. "because of me."

"hyuck?" you try to turn in his arms, but his grip only tightens on your waist. he shakes his head. "hyuck, what happened? are you okay?" 

"m'yeah, i'm okay now." he shifts. "just…i just don't know if i like playing in the band anymore." 

there's a pause. 

"are you…are you disappointed?" the thumb drawing circles on your hip stills. "say something," he whispers. "please." 

"why would i be disappointed?" you ask, quietly. placing your hand on his, you turn, facing him as he encircles you in his arms. his eyes are half-lidded, tousled hair falling over his brows, his cheek squished against the pillow into a half-pout. it's almost instinct – the way your hand goes up to his face to brush his hair out of his face, fingers absentmindedly tracing his moles. 

you can feel his lips move against your fingers. "would you still come to see me?" he wonders, softly. "if you didn't have a reason to?" 

you bite your lip. "i would want to…" you say, slowly. "but i don't know if i should. haechan, what's going on? does music not make you happy anymore?" 

his heart aches. your care for him fills his lungs, making his eyes begin to prickle with tears. 

"i don't think the haechan…donghyuck thing is good for me." 

"oh." your thumb brushes over the bridge of his nose. "hyuck…" you start. "i don't…i don't want to overstep." 

his face falls. "sorry," he says, his voice small. "i won't bother you with it…you don't have to…"

"no, i don't mean…hey, listen to me." you wait until he looks up at you through his lashes, nervously. "i think i've gotten to know haechan and donghyuck, you know? i mean…" your heart skips a beat, suddenly shy at your own honesty. but you've already let your guard down – it's no use. "of course i like haechan. haechan's the one who invited me backstage, haechan's the one who made me go on that rooftop…but…" you take a breath. 

the sleep had worn off from haechan's eyes – he was alert as he watched you now,  hanging onto your every word. 

"i've gotten to know donghyuck too, i think. i hope. donghyuck makes the best sandwiches for his baby sister, donghyuck has a bear tattoo because he looks as cute as one, donghyuck is always gentle with me even when i ask him not to be." your thumb traces the constellation of moles he has again, tracing down to his neck. you draw him closer – the way he's looking at you: like you're his entire world, like your words were the only thing keeping him breathing, filling your chest with a tender kind of ache that didn't go away. 

"donghyuck and haechan aren't that different, not really. they're still you. i like them both. i like all of you. if you woke up tomorrow and told me you were someone else, if you were suddenly becoming someone new, i think i'd still want to fall asleep next to you anyway at the end of the day. because i know you –" you breathe in, sharply. "i…i think i do. i…hope i do." 

he doesn't say anything. just leans in, and brushes his lips with yours lightly – once, twice, and finally sealing them in a kiss. he kisses you deeply, intensely – it wakes you up, that familiar feeling stirring in your belly as your hips move of their own accord. a liquid euphoria fills your veins as he pulls you into him – him on his back, you laying on his firm chest, the toned muscles on his chest grounding you, a feeling so familiar, one that you craved for a long time. you've never felt safer, in his arms. he kisses you like with every moment apart, he wonders if you're still there, and each time he sighs into your mouth it's with relief that you're still here, with him. 

"do you want to…?" he asks softly. he's breathing heavily, but he tries to calm himself down. his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and it's that act – so innocent, so nervous even though you've both done it a dozen times with each other, that makes your heart beat harder in your chest. 

"it's been awhile," you murmur. 

"i know." he nods, swallowing. "it just…it hasn't felt right. don't…don't get me wrong, i want you all the time-" he practically groans with frustration. "it's just recently i just…i've been really confused. it's so stupid, but i didn't know which version of me you wanted –" 

"just you," you assure him, softly.

"let me make it up to you then." his tone is just as soft. 

you take his hands, and slide them under your shirt. gently, he tugs it off of you, sitting up slightly to take his shirt off as well before focusing back on you. you're giddy with the feeling of his touch again, nostalgia heightening every single sensation. it's not just hyuck tracing his hands over your chest – his lips finding your nipples, tongue darting out to tease them lightly. it's every single time he's touched you before – in the backseat of his car, hands moving urgently. in your bed that first time – so careful because you were extra sensitive. you have to focus to get back to the present moment, where he's watching you carefully again – noticing that you're lost in your thoughts. 

"everything okay?" he murmurs. 

you nod. "i just missed you so much," you whisper, and you can feel his desperation in the kiss that follows. "i need you now." 

"need to prep you, baby." gently, he eases you onto the bed, crawling down your body as you tug off your shorts and panties. your legs spread, needily, as you can feel him inch closer to your core, his hands coming to hold your hips. "stay still for me?" he mumbles, his eyes dazed as he watches you nod, his own head bobbing along absentmindedly, guiding you through it as he encourages you to bend your knees, baring yourself to him. 

the first flick of his tongue on your clit makes you mewl, hands coming down to grip onto his hair. 

"i know, baby," he comforts you, drawing small circles on your thigh as he leans into suckle your clit, making your hips buck up. he holds you still, patiently continuing to circle your entrance and lap at your clit. "fuck…you're getting so wet, angel." he slides in a finger, and the intrusion makes you clench around him in sensitivity, especially as he kitten-licks your clit shyly while easing in another finger. 

"need you now," you whine, voice reaching that pitch only he seems to bring out in you. his fingers pump more urgently, now curling towards the front of your walls, as he applies more force to your clit with his tongue, massaging the sensitive bud. 

"need you-" you choke out. "need you inside." 

"just give me one right now," he says, a slight plea to his voice. "please, angel. cum for me please, –"

"wanna cum with you inside," you sniffle. that gets his attention. he crawls right up your body until you're face to face, kissing you deeply, palms coming up to hold your face, careful to keep his fingers away. it's heated – your hips rolling into his as he finally loses control, hips bucking into yours until he's practically humping you as he kisses down your neck. your hands go to his waist, and he whimpers into your skin, finally tugging down his sweatpants, and you feel a familiar weight against your core. 

"condom-" he gasps, breaking away. the muscles on his body flex as he reaches for his bedside table, you can feel them move against your hands. 

"have you been fucking anyone else?" 

he blinks. "no, not since…" he breaks off. "no. and i'm clean. mark made me check." the sound of your giggle makes him smile momentarily – a goofy, lopsided grin that makes your heart squeeze painfully in your chest. 

"i want to feel you-" you say, slowly. "please." 

he sucks in a breath. "this…this isn't one of those things you're trying to do to please me, right?" he looks at you, skeptically. "it doesn't make a difference to me, you know that right? i just want you to feel comfortable. and safe…" 

"i am comfortable," you assure him. "i'm on the pill. i really just want to do this with you." 

"because-" he suddenly sits back, running a nervous hand through his hair. "i'm fine with using protection, you know that. i…i love how you feel either way. i never want you to do anything you don't feel absolutely right about…"

"is this about the blowjob?" you raise your eyebrows at him, smiling when you see his eyes widen. "because i'm going to do that too, with you. i want to make you feel good." 

now it's his turn to laugh, tilting his head back. his adam's apple bobs in his throat. "you have no idea-" he murmurs, voice suddenly low and serious. "you have no idea how good you make me feel just by the way you look at me. by the way you say my name." 

"hyuck," you say, patiently. "i need you. don't make me beg." 

"i should be the one begging," he murmurs, and this time when you reach your arms out, he lowers himself right into your arms, letting you wrap your arms around him. he strokes himself a few times, eyelashes fluttering, before slowly easing into you – a soft sound escaping his lips as his eyes went unfocused. it really had been awhile – his length filling you up, stretching you out in a way that was almost painful, but that pain was quickly dulled by pleasure as his body pressed against yours. 

"fuck-" he curses, eyes screwed shut in concentration. "can i…can i please…" 

you rock your hips against him, letting him in even deeper as he bottoms out. "move-" you whimper, "please-" you barely finish your words before he's already drawing back, barely pulling out before fucking himself back in, short intense thursts feeling dizzying. his slender fingers find your clit again, applying a light pressure as the blunt tip of cock perfectly hits the spongy part of your walls, the sound obscene in the quiet room. you were so aroused, you felt that you were making a mess of his thighs – wetness making the scene seem ever more lewd, creaming around his length as he increased his speed, groaning lowly to himself. 

"cum for me, princess," he pleads, lips dipping down to mark the sensitive part of your neck. you were already close from all the teasing – and once again the familiarity of every touch and movement sends your senses into overdrive. your entire body tenses as you climax, and you can hear him hiss out another string of curses, mixed with your name and every term of endearment under the sun. 

"where do you want it?" he all but whimpers, hips still fucking into you like a reflex. 

"inside-" you mumble, ankles loosely hooking behind his back, trying to stop him from moving away. "hyuck, please come inside, fill me up please-" with a soft cry, he pushes in deep – and you can feel him cum inside you, making a mess between your thighs, the feeling so arousing that it awakens something inside you, and your hips begin to move – begging for more. 

"wait-" he pants. "give me a minute, angel-" his eyes are closed again, head lowered, as he pushes through the overstimulation, feeling his soft cock slowly begin to harden again. the sounds falling from his throat now are scratchy, hoarse whines – a sound so dirty it makes your heart beat even faster, a sense of defiled innocence you've only ever heard in his music. the angle in which he's rutting into you stimulating your clit, pushing you closer to your edge as you fuck up onto him. 

"hyuck?" you push his bangs out of his eyes, tracing your hands over his shoulders, his chest. your fingers brush past his nipples and his mouth falls open with need, an achy sound releasing from the back of his throat, his puffy lips parted obscenely. you pinch his nipples again, gently, experimentative, and you feel his body shudder as he cums again, this time going still. it's so fucking arousing, an different side to him that you've never seen, that you feel yourself climax as well, the stimulation overwhelming. 

the both of you lay there for awhile, before he seems to come to his senses — a shaky hand moving the hair out of your face. 

he looks at you, and you look at him. 

and as if he can't help himself, he kisses you again – this time so soft and gentle, almost as if it were the first time all over again. 

"you alright?" he mumbles. 

you nod. 

"let's clean up in a second," he breathes. "just…let's stay like this for awhile." 

you nod again. you don't trust your own voice. something is happening – something tastes different in the air, something in the way you're looking at each other, something in the way he's touching you now – as if you might break or bruise if he even let his fingerprints get onto your skin. in the way he's looking at you now – something urgent in his gaze. 

"are you…are you free tomorrow night?" 

"i am." you sound stronger than you feel. 

"can i take you somewhere?" 

pause. "yeah." you give him a small smile. "i'd like that."

the smile that breaks out across his face is one that you know like the back of your hand. 

–

sitting across from you now, with your plates already cleared away and all that's left is your last few sips of wine, it hits you how that this is the most normal setting you've been in with him, possibly ever. his long legs stretched out under the table over by your chair, gently placing down his wine glass as he looks at you, his expression soft. his face is lit up by candlelight, hair falling over his brows in a hopelessly endearing way. 

"you good?" he murmurs. 

you nod. things feel cozy, and comfortable – it's a feeling so foreign but at the same time so familiar, you have to keep reminding yourself that this is real. 

he bites his lip. "pretend i'm jisung," he says, impulsively. "and…and you're describing how this went to him. how…how did you find it?" 

you give him a look, but he looks so shy, so nervous to be asking you this question, that you decide to play along. 

"well, jisung-" you take a deep breath, smiling when you see him smile too. "haechan picked me up today, that was really nice-" 

"-sounds like the bare minimum," he mumbles back, head bent.

"well, yeah it kind of is. but he doesn't have the best track record." you see him wince, so you let that comment linger for awhile before continuing on. "he's been a gentleman today. he…he took me to a restaurant that he found out i've been meaning to go to for awhile now, because he asked jaemin beforehand." 

"and that's…creepy? doing too much?" 

"it was thoughtful," you mused. "even though he made the reservation for the wrong date…"

"fucker," he shakes his head. 

"...it was nice because we got to go to walk around, and there was this moment, um…" his head darts up. now you can see him break character – something piercingly vulnerable in the way his bambi-brown eyes shine. 

you swallow. "we were crossing the street…and he put his hand on my lower back, just to guide me forward, and when we got to the other side he took my hand in his and just…held it-" 

he's looking at you, slightly confused and a little nervous. 

"yeah?" 

"he…he usually only acts like that when we're alone…when there's no one around." he still looks lost, so you reach forward across the table, taking his hand in yours. as if on instinct, his hand squeezes yours. "it's sweet," you reassure him. "it was really sweet." 

he bites his lip, but nods to show that he understands.

there's silence, for a bit. you think of breaking the silence, of saying anything, when suddenly he clears his throat slightly, sitting up a little straighter.

"hey, mark-" now he's doing the same bit, and it catches you by surprise a little - making you smile. "yeah, i'm still with y/n. i...uh...i fucked up the reservation, you were right, i should've checked again..."

"i really like spending time with her," he says, slowly. "i...i can't stop staring at her - she looks so beautiful tonight. and...and i can't believe she's finally here with me, that i somehow didn't fuck this up. and um...we were in this record store just now...and i was listening to her talk about an album she liked -" a smile plays on his lips as he recalls the memory. you suddenly become aware that your heart is beating hard again, pounding in your ribs. "and she was so excited, and she kept laughing as she talked, and...and i just realised i would do anything to make her that happy, all the time. and that i want it to be me, i want to be the reason she smiles like that."

you swallow.

"haechan..."

"you don't have to say anything-" he rushes to say. "i just...i just wanted you - i mean, uh, mark - to know."

"okay." you take a deep breath. "and um, i want jisung to know that-"

"yeah?"

"i like spending time with him too," you say, faintly.

he nods, but he doesn't smile.

-

as the car pulls up to your driveway, the quiet hum of the engine is silenced – headlights turned off, only the soft glow of streetlights casting their pools of gold over haechan's face. it's so quiet, you hear the shaky breath he takes as he steadies himself. 

"i have something for you," he murmurs. you can feel the warmth radiating off his body as he leans to pick something up from the backseat, the comforting smell of his perfume making your heart warm. but then you hear the crinkle of paper, his hair falling over his face as he sits back into the driver's seat, and your heart falls in a completely different way – your insides rushing with inertia, dizzy and heady – because he's holding a bouquet of dark red roses. they're wrapped sweetly, tied off with a piece of red ribbon to match the blooms, and your eyes linger on the way his fingers tremble as he holds them out to you with both hands. 

his starts to speak, but whatever he falters as he watches you stare at the soft petals, stems completely stripped of their thorns – and he bites his lower lip, breath caught in his throat. 

"too much?" he asks, softly. "i just thought…i just…mark and jisung said it would be a good idea," he stammers, lowering the bouquet as one of his hands falls to his thighs, nervously clenching his fists. "i was supposed to give them to you when i picked you up, but i got scared…you don't have to take them, i just thought…i wasn't thinking-" 

your hand closes around his hand holding the flowers. your other goes to his face, your thumb brushing his cheek as he falls silent, his eyes fixed on yours, caught in the haze of your touch. slowly, so as not to startle him, you lean in and kiss him gently. it's a beat before he kisses you back, as if he couldn't believe it, and when you pull away just slightly with a soft sound, you can see the nervousness in his eyes. and so you lean in to kiss him again – you kiss him until his lashes flutter shut, until you can feel him settle in his seat, sighing into your mouth as he kisses you deeply. you pull the flowers into your lap, his hand giving up control easily, coming up to your face to hold you in his palms. 

"hyuck." 

he pauses, leaning back – but his hands only leave your face when you hold them in your own, guiding them down to rest against the center console, your fingers intertwined. 

"i never want you to feel like i'm ashamed of being seen with you," he blurts out suddenly. 

"what?" 

"i never meant to let it get that far," he continues on, looking at his hands. "when i first met you…i wanted you to be like everyone else. i tried to do what i always do, but i just couldn't. you kept getting in my head, and i kept hurting you, and i didn't know how to stop and i just-" he exhales. "i never want to make you feel like that again." 

"hyuck, was this a date?" 

he swallows. "if you want it to be," he starts, but then he shakes his head. "the truth is, i was afraid you would say no if it was. but i really want it to be. i really really do." 

"hyuck," you take a deep breath. "whatever you're going through, you're not going to find the answer in me." 

"y/n, i love you," he says, quietly, tenderly. he says it like it's the easiest thing in the world. "i want to be a person who deserves to be with you, and love you, and i know you think you can't change me, and it isn't your responsibility to try at all…but you already have, and you can't take it back. when i'm with you i feel like i can see this version of donghyuck that i want to be all the time for the rest of my life." 

"no two people should change to be with each other –" you start, but he shakes his head. 

"we aren't a scenario," he insists. "this isn't a hypothetical. there's no should and shouldn't, because you know me –" he's pleading. "i'm not the same boy you saw onstage that first time you came to our show, and you're not that same girl on the roof," he pleads, voice breaking, tears welling up in the pretty cut of his eyes. "why is it so hard for you to believe that this version of us is meant to be together?" 

there's silence. 

"i can believe it," you start, quietly. "that's what terrifies me." 

you can see him start to lose hope. he can't force you to stay with him when you're not ready, and he doesn't want to be that person either. 

"i…" he hesitates. he wants to say so much more to you – that no one else makes him feel the way you make him feel. that he feels like he'll never love anyone again, not the way he loves you. the fact that you're it for him in a million different ways, a love he never thought he'd find. that he'll never be able to give anyone else a fair chance. 

but he can tell his love makes your shoulders heavy, makes your eyes go foggy with tears. already, you look shattered sitting in the passenger seat of his car, his love a weight on your chest that you don't know what to do with. already he's losing whatever bravery he had before – the bravery his love for you had given him. 

"sometimes-" you start, breaking off, your voice quivering. "when we're together, i feel like i could do it for the rest of my life. that you're the only one i've met to make me feel this way, that i'm the only one who knows you so deep." 

"you are," he breathes. 

"but-" your voice rises, agitated. "you hurt me. again and again. i came back when i wasn't ready, i should've given it more time, i just couldn't stay away. and then you came back into my life, and i forgave you to be with you again, and i tried to give other people a chance but i just…i just couldn't. what if this is too soon again?" 

i'll wait. the words are on the tip of his tongue, but he knows its the wrong thing to say, wrong thing to want. there's nothing romantic about waiting for someone – it's a cruel promise, one that rots each day going by in the wait for the future. 

"do you…" he takes a deep breath. "do you want to let me go?"

you nod, slowly. haechan can feel his heartbeat in his ears. 

"i'm not sorry," you whisper. "it's not right. you…i know you think you know what you want, but i need you to be sure of who you are, and who you want. i can't give you the answers." 

haechan remembers how – and it seems so far away, almost like a dream now – the night you went out with jisung, he dreamed of you. dreamed up the final version of you and him – everything good and always good, coming backstage to you, coming home to you. and some part of him had dared to hope, that despite everything, despite himself, the two of you would make it to that final version. 

but maybe the final version of you and him was this – the sound of the car door shutting as you walk up the steps to your apartment, and him crying all the way home, roses left in the front seat of the car, the ghost of your hands burning on his face.

(EPILOGUE RELEASE SOON)

@neochan, @ahncosette, @18shy @kittydollzz @jenoslutie @pussymode @yyfka @cheolctrl @jaeminsballs @mysummerhyuck @strawberrytyong @rosiejunnie @nctzen4eva @haechskies @wickedrei @sundamariis @liliansun @lanadreamie @nodisdino @angelwonie @foxydumps @manooffline @moonsmias @skzct7 @iscocohere @ficrecnctskz @makiswrld @itskkung @simpforarmihn @aryraaaa @rbf-aceu @laubyrinthine @yujuvly @nctevia @hyuckenjoyer @guhhfgbbj @girlwholoveslpreppyattire @kasperneo @eneiyri @toroufriteh @cauliephays @jisoung @niinjo @wonaoi @yuskitty @strawbabyz @readingisgodly @daegalfangirl @minkyuncutie @feat-sun @chaoticstrawberryland @shawnyle @sofix-hc7 @scftharu @spageddy @adorejaehyn @manooffline @02mrk @tyongspice1 @runahways @neosdaisy @hotmessexpress35 @kim-seungmins-gf @delllllllsstuff @nohunlee @kingsoowolves @enhasrii @fnafgirl87 @imzerozen @toroufriteh @torothecatt

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER FIFTEEN ━━ Future In Our Hands

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 6.3K

☆ ━ warnings: sexual content (fingering—p giving, morning sex)

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: well… that’s it. my first baby all grown up. i actually cannot believe it’s over yall, genuinely. i love all of you so much, i love dani so much, i love dani and paige so much—like how’re we supposed to say goodbye…. anyways thank you all for your support on this fic, take me to church will always, always have a special place in my heart. ALSO! i’m planing to write an epilogue, so i want you guys to send in some ideas of what you might wanna see in that!! i love you all so much, onto the next 🫡

JUST LIKE DANI thought they’d be, things are different now—but also so much better. After leaving her father’s house, she stayed with the Bueckers for a few weeks. They were kind, welcoming, and unwaveringly supportive, but Dani knew it couldn’t last forever. Paige’s family has their own lives, and—no matter how much they told her she wasn’t—Dani didn’t want to intrude. So when her Aunt Julia offered her a place, Dani accepted, moving into her aunt’s modest apartment just outside the city.

It’s been over a month now, and things are good—really good. Julia and Dani have grown close, almost like they’re making up for lost time. Dani feels lighter in this space, unburdened by judgment or fear. And then there’s Grey, Julia’s son. The baby has taken to Dani in a way that’s mutual and immediate; his face lights up every time she walks into the room, and Dani finds herself softening in his presence in ways she never thought possible. For the first time in years, she feels like she belongs somewhere.

The alarm on Dani’s phone blares, slicing through the comfortable silence of her new bedroom. She groans, reaching blindly to shut it off, and Paige groans along with her. Dani’s hand finds the phone, and she presses the button with more force than necessary, silencing the obnoxious buzz. The room goes quiet again, but it doesn’t last long.

Behind her, Paige stirs, nuzzling closer until her face is buried against Dani’s neck. Her arms tighten around Dani’s waist, one hand slipping beneath the hem of Dani’s sweatshirt to rest warm and solid against her bare stomach.

Dani lets out a breath, feeling Paige’s slow, steady breathing against her skin. “We gotta get up,” she murmurs, though the words lack any real urgency.

Paige responds by shaking her head, her voice muffled. “Noooo. Just a few more minutes.”

Dani huffs out a quiet laugh, the corners of her mouth lifting despite herself. “P…”

But before she can say more, Paige groans dramatically and shifts her weight, rolling fully on top of Dani. She’s warm, all long limbs and lazy strength, her hands sliding up Dani’s sides as she tucks her face against Dani’s neck again. Her lips brush against the sensitive skin there, leaving soft, barely-there kisses that make Dani’s heart stumble in her chest.

Dani sighs, her hands coming up to rest on Paige’s hips. “Paige, we’re graduating in a couple hours.”

Paige makes a noise somewhere between a groan and a sigh, finally lifting her head to look down at Dani. Her hair is a mess, her eyes half-lidded with sleep, but she’s smiling in that lopsided way that always makes Dani’s stomach flip.

“What time is it?” Paige asks, her voice scratchy and low.

“9:30,” Dani says, trying to keep her tone firm.

Paige scoffs. “We ain’t gotta be there ‘til 11:30. We got time.”

Before Dani can respond, Paige leans down, her lips brushing against Dani’s in a kiss that’s soft and lingering at first. Dani melts into it instinctively, her hands sliding up Paige’s back, but it doesn’t stay soft for long.

The kiss deepens, shedding its softness in favor of something needier, hungrier. Dani feels Paige’s weight pressing down on her, grounding her in the moment, the exhaustion they’d both been clinging to dissipating like mist under the heat building between them. Paige tilts her head to angle the kiss just right, her lips sliding against Dani’s with purpose. There’s nothing rushed about it, but there’s an urgency to the way Paige grips Dani’s waist, her fingers splaying against bare skin like she’s memorizing the shape of her.

And then Paige shifts her hips just so, grinding down in a way that steals the breath from Dani’s lungs. Dani gasps against Paige’s lips, her fingers digging into Paige’s shoulders, and she feels rather than hears the soft hum of satisfaction Paige makes in response.

It’s just enough to spark something deep inside her, enough for her body to react instinctively. Dani’s hips buck up to meet Paige’s, the friction making her head spin, and before she knows it, her arms are around Paige’s neck, pulling her impossibly closer. Paige adjusts, settling fully between Dani’s legs, her weight a warm and steady pressure that has Dani’s pulse thrumming wildly.

The hand Paige had been using to grip Dani’s waist slides up, her palm skimming the curve of Dani’s side and brushing just under the swell of her chest. It’s light, barely there, but it sends a shiver coursing through Dani all the same. Paige feels it—of course she does—and her lips curl into a smirk against Dani’s mouth before she dips her head to trail kisses along Dani’s jaw, her breath hot against sensitive skin.

“P…” Dani breathes, her voice shaky.

Paige doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down. Her lips press against the spot just below Dani’s ear, lingering long enough to make Dani squirm beneath her. “Hmm?” Paige hums, her tone teasing, almost lazy, like she knows exactly what she’s doing to Dani.

“Paige,” Dani tries again, her hands sliding up to bury themselves in Paige’s messy blonde hair. She tugs lightly, just enough to make Paige lift her head and meet her gaze. Paige’s eyes are heavy-lidded, her pupils blown wide, and the sight sends another jolt of heat through Dani.

“We’re—” Dani swallows hard, trying to focus, but it’s almost impossible with Paige looking at her like that, with Paige’s hand still skimming her side, her hips still pressed so perfectly against Dani’s. “We’re gonna be late,” she manages, though it comes out far weaker than she intended.

Paige grins, the kind of grin that’s all mischief and affection rolled into one. “We got time,” she says, her voice low and certain. And then she’s insistently reconnecting their mouths, lips sliding together perfectly, teeth clashing just slightly. Dani’s eyes flutter shut as she continues kissing the blonde, feeling Paige’s hands begin to trail downward. They slide along Dani’s stomach, tracing slow circles on her skin, almost teasing. It makes Dani squirm a little until Paige’s fingers brush along the waistband of the pair of Paige’s basketball shorts Dani wore to bed.

Without Paige even asking anything, Dani’s nodding against her, hips shifting. They’re on a time crunch, so if they’re gonna do this, they gotta do it fast. Paige grins against Dani’s lips—probably at her eagerness—before sliding her fingers under the shorts and Dani’s panties in one go.

Dani gasps just slightly as Paige’s fingers reach for her clit, the blonde humming against her lips as she begins to circle the bud. Paige’s mouth disconnects from Dani’s, her lips skimming over her jawline and along her neck. “Mmm,” she hums against Dani’s ear. “So wet, Dan.”

Dani feels her cheeks heat at the words, heat flushing through her face down to her core. She whimpers a little at Paige’s slow circling of her clit, bucking her hips enough to let her know she needs more. Paige understands immediately, and then two of her fingers are sliding inside Dani, the slickness of her making the motion almost effortless. The sound that follows is, indeed, sinful—the obscene wet noises filling the otherwise quiet room, making Dani’s stomach tighten with a renewed wave of arousal.

Paige groans a little, pulling back from Dani’s neck. She grabs at the brunette’s shorts with her free hand, pushing them down so she can see her fingers working, eyes locking onto her digits moving in and out of Dani’s cunt and the way Dani’s body arches up into her. Dani watches Paige watch, catching the blonde bite her lip, eyes almost glazing over as her fingers slide inside Dani.

It makes Dani whimper, her hips instinctively pushing back against Paige’s fingers. “Mmph… please…” she mumbles, not really sure what she’s begging for, but the need in her tone seems to spur Paige on.

Paige responds immediately, thrusting her fingers deeper, curling them just enough to hit that spongy spot inside Dani that makes her gasp loudly. Dani feels Paige’s free hand move back up her body, under her sweatshirt to squeeze at her breast, thumb brushing over her nipple. Paige’s lips find Dani’s neck again, too, biting down lightly before sucking a mark into her skin.

Dani cries out a little at the sensation, her body trembling as the pleasure begins to overwhelm her. “God, P,” she moans, voice ragged.

She feels Paige grin against her neck once more, her fingers moving faster now, her thumb rubbing slow, deliberate circles back on her clit. “Like that?” Paige whispers, breath hot against Dani’s skin.

Dani just nods, her breath hitching as she struggles to respond. “Yeah,” she finally manages to gasp out, her hips moving in time with Paige’s fingers. “Just like that.”

Dani bites down onto her lip hard, probably enough to draw blood, keeping herself in check because she has absolutely no interest in her aunt hearing her moan Paige’s name. Paige’s fingers are just relentless as they thrust in and out, the wet sounds between them growing louder and more obscene with every second. Dani feels Paige moan against her neck and that, along with the curling of Paige’s fingers, has Dani’s brows furrowing together, eyes scrunching closed, her whole body tightening.

“’M close,” Dani whimpers breathlessly, her voice barely above a whisper as her nails dig into Paige’s back.

Dani feels Paige’s fingers press even harder at her words, scissoring inside her, angling them just right. “Come on, Dan,” Paige encourages. “Wanna feel it.”

That‘a all it seems to take. With a muffled moan, Dani’s body goes taut, her muscles contracting around Paige’s fingers as she cums hard, her hips bucking as waves of pleasure crash over her. Paige holds her tightly, her fingers slowing just enough to guide Dani through her orgasm, her lips still pressing gentle kisses to her neck.

“Fuck,” Dani gasps, her body finally going limp as she collapses back against the mattress, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tries to catch her breath.

Paige smirks down at her, slipping her fingers out. Paige presses a gentle kiss to Dani’s jaw, then her lips, then her nose, then the spot between her eyebrows before pulling back so she’s eye-to-eye with the girl. “Now it’s time to get up,” she says, cheesing.

Dani rolls her eyes, slapping at Paige’s arm lightly. “Shut up.”

THE FINAL APPLAUSE feels like it echoes forever, reverberating around the crowded football field. Dani sits there in the plastic chair, the edges of the graduation gown stiff against her arms, her cap threatening to slip off her head. She doesn’t move. Around her, classmates are already standing, hugging, and tossing their caps into the air, but Dani feels rooted in place.

It’s over.

Her childhood—whatever was left of it—has officially ended.

That’s the only thought looping in her head. The years she spent on cramped bleachers, in loud cafeterias, on basketball courts that smelled like old wood and sweat—all of it is behind her now. Her chest feels heavy with something she can’t quite name. Relief? Sadness? Fear? She shakes it off and stands, taking a deep breath that doesn’t fill her lungs the way she wants it to.

When the crowd begins to disperse, she finally spots Paige a few rows over, standing tall and blonde and unmistakable in her blue gown. Thaliah is next to her, smirking as she bats Paige’s hands away from the crooked cap on her head. Dani weaves through the sea of gowns, her own steps feeling distant and mechanical. But when she reaches them, her grin comes naturally.

“Look at us,” Thaliah says, throwing her arms around both Dani and Paige, drawing them into a three-person hug. Her grin is wide. “All grown up!”

Dani chuckles, pulling back just enough to breathe. “Finally free,” she agrees, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

Thaliah rolls her eyes. “Yeah, free to do what? Work? Be an adult? Ugh.”

Dani doesn’t answer because her eyes are drawn to Paige, who’s blinking quickly, her lashes wet. Dani’s smile softens as she takes in the way Paige’s lower lip wobbles just slightly before she sucks it between her teeth.

“Aww, babe,” Dani says, her voice teasing but fond. She steps closer, brushing her thumb under Paige’s eye to catch a tear before it can fall.

“I’m not crying,” Paige says immediately, sniffing and straightening her shoulders like she can will the emotion away.

“You’re totally crying,” Thaliah chimes in, her grin wicked. “Somebody get a camera!”

Paige narrows her eyes. “I ain’t crying!”

“You are,” Dani teases, her hand lingering against Paige’s cheek before letting it fall back to her side.

“Shut up,” Paige mutters, but the corner of her mouth betrays her with a twitch of a smile.

The three of them laugh then, the kind of laughter that feels bigger than the moment. It’s a release, a shared acknowledgment of everything they’ve been through together and everything that’s ahead of them. Dani lets it wash over her, lets herself feel the warmth of it as they shuffle out into the packed hallway.

The noise is overwhelming, a cacophony of voices and camera flashes and the occasional squeal from someone who’s just spotted their family. Dani’s chest tightens briefly, but she shakes it off. This is supposed to be a happy day. She forces herself to focus on the here and now.

“Alright, I’m off,” Thaliah announces, clapping them both on the shoulder. “If I don’t get to my mom soon, she’s gonna start yelling my full name in front of everyone, and we can’t have that.” She gives the pair one last grin before disappearing through the crowd.

Paige stays close as they navigate through the throng of people, her hand brushing Dani’s back as they walk. Dani can feel the slight tremor in Paige’s energy, the kind that only comes when Paige is overwhelmed, but she doesn’t comment on it. Instead, she nudges Paige gently with her elbow, and Paige gives her a grateful smile.

They find Paige’s family first. Her mom is the first person Dani notices, standing near the bleachers with a wide smile and arms open. Lauren, Ryan, and Drew are bouncing on their toes, waving furiously when they spot Paige. Bob is chatting animatedly with Paige’s grandparents, and her aunt is juggling a camera and a gift bag with tissue paper spilling out the top.

“Paige!” Lauren squeals, launching herself at her older sister the second she’s within reach. Paige laughs, catching her and spinning her around before setting her down. Ryan and Drew both aren’t far behind, wrapping their arms around Paige’s waist and clinging like a little koalas.

Dani watches it all unfold, a small smile tugging at her lips. It’s a lot, seeing all of them there, so many people who love Paige and want to celebrate her. A small pang settles in her chest, but she pushes it aside quickly.

She doesn’t have to look far for her own family. Julia is standing just a few feet away, holding baby Grey on her hip, her smile soft and full of pride. Dani’s grandparents are beside her, their expressions warm and welcoming. It’s quieter, simpler, but no less meaningful.

Julia’s arms are open before Dani even realizes she’s moving, and she steps into the hug, letting herself sink into the familiarity of it. “I’m so proud of you, Dani,” Julia whispers into her ear, her voice thick with emotion.

The words hit harder than Dani expects, her throat tightening as she blinks rapidly, willing herself not to cry. She pulls back after a moment, forcing a smile as she meets Julia’s gaze. “Thanks,” she says, her voice a little hoarse.

Grey babbles something unintelligible, reaching for Dani with chubby hands, and she can’t help but laugh as she takes him into her arms. “Hey, buddy,” she murmurs, bouncing him slightly. He giggles, his tiny hands grabbing at the tassel on her cap.

Her grandparents step forward next, wrapping her in hugs that smell like lavender and old books, murmuring their congratulations with quiet pride. Dani’s smile feels a little steadier now, a little more natural.

It’s not perfect. It’s not what she used to imagine this day would look like. There’s an emptiness where her parents should be, a hollow ache she tries not to focus on. But looking at Julia’s warm smile, Grey’s wide eyes, and her grandparents’ unwavering support, she decides it’s enough.

“Hey, kiddo.”

Dani turns to find Bob, Paige’s dad, leaning in for a hug. His grin is kind and effortless, the kind that makes Dani feel seen, like she belongs. She melts into the embrace, letting him clap her on the back as she smiles against his shoulder.

“Look at you!” he exclaims as they pull back. “High school graduate. You’ve done good, Dan.”

Her grin widens. Bob’s probably the closest thing she has to a dad these days, and she’s grateful for how steady he’s always been, how he’s never made her feel out of place. “Thanks, Bob.”

Before she can say more, Amy swoops in, wrapping Dani in a tight hug that smells like fresh laundry and perfume. “Aw, Dani, all grown up!” Amy squeals, pulling back to hold Dani by the shoulders and give her a good once-over. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

Dani laughs, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Please don’t cry, Amy. Paige’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

Amy laughs, her hands squeezing Dani’s shoulders briefly before she lets go. “No promises.”

Dani makes her way down the line, crouching slightly to hug Paige’s little siblings. Lauren and Ryan and Drew all beam at her, their arms wrapping around her tightly. Drew leans into her side, his small voice eager as he says, “You’re coming to the cookout after, right?”

“Of course,” Dani says, ruffling his hair before pulling Lauren in for a quick squeeze. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

When she stands, she feels a hand slide into hers, warm and familiar. Paige is there, her blue eyes soft as she looks at Dani, squeezing her hand gently. “Okay,” Amy says suddenly, clapping her hands together like she’s directing a photoshoot. “I need pictures!”

Paige groans, loud and exaggerated, her head tilting back like this is the most torturous request in the world. “Mom, come on—”

“No complaints!” Amy cuts her off, already holding up her phone. “This is a big day! Paige, Dani, come on.”

Paige rolls her eyes but grins as she tugs Dani closer by the hand. Dani follows easily, letting Paige guide her until they’re standing shoulder to shoulder. Paige’s arm wraps around her waist, her hand resting lightly on Dani’s hip, and Dani lets her own hand settle comfortably against Paige’s back. They tilt their heads together instinctively, their smiles wide and natural as the first flash goes off.

One photo turns into three, then four, and Dani quickly loses track of how many cameras are aimed at them. Both of Paige’s parents are taking pictures, as are their grandparents, Julia, and Paige’s aunt. It feels like every angle is covered, and Dani doesn’t even know where to look at this point.

“Oh, wait, wait!” Julia exclaims suddenly, waving her free hand while balancing Grey on her hip. “Take one showing the caps!”

Dani and Paige both blink at her, confused for a moment before they realize what she means. “Oh!” Paige says, reaching up to tug her cap off. “Yeah, yeah.”

Dani does the same, pulling her cap off and holding it in her hands. When she glances over at Paige, she can’t help but laugh. “Ooh, cap head,” she teases, nodding toward Paige’s hair, which is flattened awkwardly where the cap had been.

Paige narrows her eyes at her, a mock glare that doesn’t last long. “Fix it.”

“Please,” Dani corrects, smirking as she leans in to do just that—fix the mess. Her fingers comb through the strands of blonde until Paige’s hair looks normal again. Paige huffs but doesn’t pull away, her lips twitching upward in the smallest smile.

When Dani’s satisfied, she steps back, only to feel Paige’s hand brushing against her own hair. “Hang on,” Paige mutters, her fingers quick and sure as they smooth out Dani’s own cap-induced disaster.

Once they’ve both deemed each other photo-ready, they angle their caps toward the cameras, holding them up so the bedazzled designs are clearly visible. UConn logos sparkle under the sun, the rhinestones they painstakingly glued on last night catching every flash.

“Go Huskies!” Amy cheers from behind the phone, her voice bright with pride as the camera clicks again.

Dani feels her grin stretch impossibly wider. In that moment, she forgets about the ache in her chest, the absence of her parents, the uncertainty of the future. All she feels is this—Paige’s arm warm around her waist, their friends and family laughing and cheering, and the glimmer of the UConn logos they’ll carry with them into the next chapter of their lives.

THE NIGHT feels heavy in the best way—cool air brushing against Paige’s skin, her hoodie soft against her arms, and the low hum of cicadas filling the spaces between quiet laughter. It’s dark now, the kind of dark that stretches across the park like a blanket, broken only by the dim glow of the streetlamp by the parking lot and the stars above. The four of them—Paige, Dani, Thaliah, and Jalen—are settled into their usual spots at the park they’ve claimed since what feels like forever. The basketball court has cracks they know like the backs of their hands, the picnic table has their initials carved into the wood, and everything about it feels like home.

Paige leans against the basketball hoop, dribbling lazily as Jalen sets up for a halfhearted shot. He misses—terribly—and Paige laughs, grabbing the rebound and tossing the ball back to him. “Bro,” she teases, “you might need to rethink that NBA dream.”

Jalen points at her, mock offended. “You laugh now, but when I’m in the league, you’re not getting courtside tickets.”

“Good,” Paige fires back with a grin. “I’ll be too busy winning nattys at UConn anyway.”

The words feel easy, automatic, but they carry a weight she’s only just starting to realize. UConn. Storrs. It’s been this abstract, glittering thing for so long, but now it’s real—a fresh start, a new chapter. Summer sessions start in just a couple weeks. Basketball in the basketball capital of the world. And Dani. Dani will be there too.

She glances toward the picnic table, where Dani’s sitting shoulder to shoulder with Thaliah, both of them half-focused on Thaliah’s phone. Milkshakes sit abandoned on the table, sweating in the humid air, and Dani’s curled hair falls into her face as she leans closer to the screen. Paige watches her for a moment, her grin softening into something quieter.

“Aye,” Jalen says, nudging Paige with his elbow and smirking a little. “You good?”

“Hm?” Paige blinks, startled out of her thoughts. “Yeah, I’m good.” She spins the basketball once, catching it easily. “Just thinking about how much better I am than you.”

Jalen groans. “Aight, thin ice, Bueckers.”

Paige laughs, tossing the ball his way before walking toward the table, her curiosity piqued by whatever has Dani and Thaliah so engrossed. She hops up onto the bench beside Dani, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table. “What’s so fascinating?”

Thaliah glances up briefly, holding her phone out so Paige can see. “My roommate at UCLA,” she says, scrolling through an Instagram profile of a girl with tanned skin and lots of beach photos. “She’s already from Cali, so.”

“Hmm,” Paige hums, tilting her head as she studies the photos. “She seems chill.”

“I think so too,” Dani agrees.

Thaliah nods. “Yeah, she’s nice. We’ve been texting. She’s into film, which gives us somethin’ in common, and she’s already invited me to a festival this fall. I think we’re gonna get along.”

Paige nods at the words before watching Dani groan dramatically, leaning her head against Thaliah’s shoulder. “I still can’t believe you’re gonna be in sunny LA while I’m stuck in Storrs with this creature.” She gestures lazily in Paige’s direction without looking up.

“Aye!” Paige exclaims, feigning offense. She ruffles Dani’s curls lightly, earning an indignant squawk. “Watch that mouth.”

Dani swats at Paige’s hand but grins, leaning back in her seat, humming, “Mhm.”

Paige smirks. “It’ll be fun, you know it.”

“Debatable,” Dani shoots back, but there’s a warmth in her tone that makes Paige’s chest feel strangely tight.

Jalen finally joins them, the basketball tucked under one arm. He stands behind them, leaning over to try and get a glimpse. “What’re we looking at?”

“My future roomie,” Thaliah says, holding up her phone again.

Jalen squints at the screen, then nods approvingly. “Damn. She fine.”

Dani bursts out laughing, nearly spilling her milkshake as Thaliah groans and mutters something about boys being predictable. Paige just shakes her head, leaning back on the bench and letting the easy rhythm of their banter wash over her. It’s moments like this, she thinks, that she’s going to miss most.

But then Dani’s hand brushes against hers, her fingers curling briefly around Paige’s, and she thinks maybe she doesn’t have to miss it. Not really. Not when Dani’s right here, and when tomorrow, and every day after, will start with both of them heading toward the same place. Together.

Jalen’s phone buzzes on the bench, the screen lighting up with a notification. Paige notices it before he does and glances over, catching the slight furrow in his brow as he picks it up and reads the message. “Ah, man,” he says, standing and shoving the phone into his pocket. “My mom’s tellin’ me to get home. Graduation tomorrow and all.”

Thaliah stretches, groaning a little as she stands. “Guess I’m out too, then. He’s my ride.”

Paige frowns, tilting her head at them. “Wow, ditching us already?”

Thaliah smirks as she grabs her jacket. “Hey, not all of us can be completely irresponsible. Some of us have families that enforce things like curfews and sleep schedules.”

“Lame,” Paige teases, but she stands to hug Jalen, patting him on the back. “Congrats ahead of time, though. Have fun tomorrow.”

Jalen grins, hugging her back.

Thaliah waves as they head toward the parking lot, leaving Paige and Dani alone on the weathered wooden bench. The night feels quieter now, though not uncomfortable—just different. The cicadas hum in the trees, and the faint smell of grass and pavement lingers in the air. Paige lets herself enjoy the moment for a second, her gaze drifting over to Dani.

Dani sits quietly, staring out at the court, her expression unreadable. It’s the kind of stillness Dani falls into sometimes, where Paige knows she’s in her head about something but won’t say what.

Paige stands, grabbing the basketball from beside her and turning it over in her hands. The weight of it feels familiar and grounding. “Play with me?”

Dani turns to look at her, eyebrows raised. “What?”

“Play with me,” Paige repeats, her tone lighter, teasing. She bounces the ball once against the ground for emphasis.

Dani snorts. “You can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious.” Paige grins, holding the ball against her hip.

“Uh-uh,” Dani protests, shaking her head. “We both know how that’ll end.”

“And?” Paige arches a brow.

Dani doesn’t move, her expression skeptical. Paige rolls her eyes, stepping closer and grabbing Dani’s hand, tugging her to her feet. Dani resists for about half a second before giving in with an exasperated sigh.

“You’re annoying, you know that?” Dani mutters.

“Yep.” Paige leads her toward the court, the basketball bouncing lightly in her other hand.

Once they’re on the court, Paige dribbles a couple of times before passing the ball to Dani. “1v1,” she says, her voice challenging.

Dani catches the ball awkwardly, holding it for a moment as she stares at Paige. “This is stupid,” she says, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth now. “We both know who’s gonna win.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Paige replies, dropping into a defensive stance. “C’mon. Play.”

With a small shake of her head, Dani starts to dribble—slowly, clumsily. The ball bounces unevenly against the pavement, and Paige bites back a laugh. She gives Dani a few seconds before darting in to steal the ball.

Dani yelps and pulls the ball to her chest, her arms wrapping protectively around it like it’s a lifeline.

“That is illegal!” Paige exclaims, standing in front of her with her hands on her hips.

“Then quit tryna take it from me!” Dani fires back, her voice half-laughing, half-exasperated as she shifts away from Paige.

Paige grins, circling around Dani like a shark. “Aight, fine. If you wanna be like that, we can be like that.”

Before Dani can respond, Paige lunges, trying to pry the ball free. When that doesn’t work, her fingers find their way to Dani’s ribs, tickling mercilessly.

Dani shrieks, laughter spilling out of her uncontrollably. “Paige! Stop!” she yells, twisting and turning to escape, but Paige keeps going, grinning against her ear.

“This… is… definitely… a… foul!” Dani manages between gasps, her laughter growing louder as her grip on the ball falters.

“Don’t care,” Paige replies, her voice smug as she tickles harder. Dani’s back presses into Paige’s chest as she struggles, her legs wobbling beneath her.

Paige spins the brunette around, her fingers relentless against Dani’s ribs, tickling so hard that Dani’s squealing, “Paige!” nearly collapsing under the weight of her laughter.

Finally, Paige relents, stepping back as the basketball slips from Dani’s grasp and rolls across the court. Dani leans against Paige, panting and giggling, her forehead pressing lightly into Paige’s chest.

“I hate you,” Dani mutters breathlessly, swatting weakly at Paige’s hoodie.

Paige just grins, her hands settling on Dani’s hips. “Nah, you don’t.”

Dani pulls back slightly, glaring up at her with an exaggerated pout. “Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t,” Paige replies, her voice softer now, teasing but with an edge of sincerity. Paige’s grin widens, her hand sliding upward to cup Dani’s jaw. Her thumb brushes lightly against Dani’s cheek as she leans in, her voice barely above a whisper. “C’mon, Dan, you don’t hate me.”

Dani rolls her eyes, relenting. Paige thinks she hears her breath catch. “No, I don’t.”

And then Paige tilts her head, her lips brushing against Dani’s, soft at first, as if feeling the rhythm of the moment. But then, the hesitation fades. Paige presses forward, coaxing Dani’s lips to part, and with a quiet, deep inhale, her tongue slips into Dani’s mouth.

Paige feels Dani’s mouth opening slightly more, a sigh escaping her lips. She shifts closer, hands sliding down from Paige’s chest to her sides, pulling them tighter together, the warmth of her body mingling with Paige’s. Their tongues tangle, teeth clashing slightly.

Paige’s hand on Dani’s hip trails downward, fingers slipping, finding purchase on the curve of her ass. She squeezes lightly, feeling the taut muscle beneath her fingertips, and that small movement has Dani grinning against her lips, the playful smirk against Paige’s mouth making Paige’s stomach flip.

Paige lets out a soft laugh through the kiss, a breathless sound, but she doesn’t pull away. She deepens the kiss instead, her fingers pressing a little harder, pulling Dani closer still. It’s like a slow burn, the way their bodies are melting together, hot and heavy but not frantic.

Paige takes her time. She lets her lips linger, firm but careful, savoring the way Dani responds. There’s a heat between them, an energy that buzzes under Paige’s skin, but she reins it in, keeps it simmering just beneath the surface. This moment isn’t about rushing forward—it’s about Dani, about the way she fits so perfectly in Paige’s hands, the way her lips feel impossibly soft and warm, the way she melts into the kiss.

Dani shifts slightly, her hands sliding up from Paige’s chest to loop around her neck. It pulls Paige down further, and she lets it happen, leaning into the touch, into Dani. The kiss slows for a beat, their lips brushing more gently now, like the initial spark has given way to something softer, something steadier.

Paige pulls back just an inch, her forehead resting against Dani’s. She opens her eyes slowly, and the sight of Dani—her cheeks flushed, her lips slightly swollen, her eyes half-lidded and searching—nearly takes her breath away.

“Dan,” Paige murmurs, her voice low and a little unsteady.

Dani blinks up at her, her fingers still playing lightly with the hair at the nape of Paige’s neck. She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t have to. The way she looks at Paige—like she’s seeing her for the first time and yet has always known her—says everything.

Paige feels her phone buzz against her skin, the vibration pulling her reluctantly out of the moment, out of Dani’s warmth. She lets out a soft breath of frustration, but she’s still not ready to fully pull away. Her hand stays on Dani’s ass, fingers tracing the curve of her hip in a way that keeps their bodies pressed together.

She pulls the phone from her pocket with a sigh, glancing at the screen, but the feeling of Dani still so close, so tangible, is enough to make her hold on just a moment longer. It’s a message from her dad asking if she and Dani want to come back and watch a movie with Drew, Ryan, and Lauren.

She shifts the phone to face Dani, letting her read it for herself. The light from the screen illuminates their faces, casting soft shadows across Dani’s features. For a second, Paige just looks at her, at the way Dani’s brow furrows slightly in thought as she processes the message, and then the way her lips curve into that familiar smile that always does something to Paige’s chest.

“You wanna?” Paige asks quietly, her voice soft but steady, letting Dani know she’s willing to go along with whatever she decides.

Dani looks at the message and then up at Paige, smiling just a little—like the smallest of secrets are being shared. She nods, and that small gesture makes Paige’s heart skip just a little.

“Yeah,” Dani says, her voice barely above a whisper, but there’s something in her tone that makes Paige’s chest tighten with affection. “Let’s go.”

Paige smiles back, the warmth spreading in her chest, and presses one last kiss to the corner of Dani’s mouth. It’s soft, lingering for a second longer than it probably should, but Paige can’t help it. She can’t help but savor the taste of Dani, the way her lips feel like home. It’s like everything before this—before the arguing, before the space between them, before all the pain—has led to this.

This moment. This kiss. And everything that comes after it.

When she pulls back just a fraction, still feeling the heat of Dani’s skin under her hands, Paige wraps her arm around Dani’s waist and guides them back toward the picnic table. Her fingers graze the soft curve of Dani’s waist, a quiet gesture of possession, of love, of a future they haven’t yet fully realized but are starting to piece together.

They collect their milkshakes, Paige grabbing both cups, offering Dani her Oreo one, who takes it with a grateful, quiet smile, and they walk side by side, their shoulders brushing with every step. They don’t say much, the silence between them comfortable, an unspoken understanding that fills the space where words aren’t needed. There’s no pressure, no rush, just the steady rhythm of their footsteps as they head back.

Side by side, they walk back to Paige’s house, their bodies pressed close enough that the warmth between them is constant, never faltering. Neither of them speaks much, but the air between them feels thick with the weight of it all—the unspoken words, the shared memories, the connection that neither of them can deny anymore. They walk in sync, like they’ve always been meant to, and Paige finds that she doesn’t need words to fill the space.

The familiar sights of their neighborhood pass by, the houses and the trees, the sound of their feet on the pavement, the occasional rustle of wind through the leaves. They pass Dani’s dad’s house, and neither of them looks at it. Paige’s mind briefly flickers to that house, to the past, to the pain that had lingered there for so long, but it’s all behind them now. That part of their lives is a closed door, and neither of them needs to open it again.

They reach the front door of Paige’s house, and Paige can’t help but glance at Dani as she opens it. The door opens with a soft creak, and for a brief moment, Paige holds the door open with one hand while she rests her forehead against Dani’s. It’s a simple thing, but there’s something about it, something about the way Dani’s body fits against hers, something about the softness of her skin under Paige’s touch that makes it all feel like it’s meant to be.

And in that moment, Paige knows, without a doubt, that everything before this was just the beginning. Because this—this is their forever.

Then, Lauren calls for them both from inside, telling their names. Dani grins up at Paige, murmuring, “C’mon,” pulling her inside.

And as they step inside the house, with their hands still intertwined, the door closes softly behind them, sealing shut their childhoods, their high school days, and all the ups and downs that surrounded them. The future’s wide open, and Paige and Dani are ready to take that step into it.

[dobadoo]

˗ˏˋ ꒰ DON'T HUG ME. I'M SCARED꒱ ˎˊ˗ your gentle madness

• pt I - pt II - pt III

characters — yandere!scaramouche/fem!singer!reader

sum — scaramouche takes you from this vicious, dirty world into his arms, twisting, tying, shackling you and not letting go.

warnings — unhealthy attitude, angst,

a/n — two more chapters + epilogue are planned. The next one will be a terrible mess, I don’t advise those who are particularly impressionable to read it! So that later they don’t complain about me

5.136 words

He takes you away from the dirty world without a twinge of conscience, and has no plans to give you back.

You follow him like an obedient dog, barely breathing and not raising your eyes from the ground. Scaramouche's fingers squeeze your wrist loosely, carefully, but it still seems to you that your hand is numb and trembling from his grip. He notices your shaking hand out of the corner of his eye and sighs, forcing a smile.

You have time to examine the small Inazuma house you entered and the gloomy hallway, and he pulls you further. He walks you to the very door of the bathroom and only then lets you go and leaves you alone.

And only then does all the horror wash over you like a wave.

You are heartbrokenly silent, feeling that you cannot force yourself to utter a sound. Convulsively open the tap and wash the blood from your wrist and palm. The sound of rushing water makes you feel sick, your eyes water, and you close them, forcing yourself not to cry. You peer into the reflection, wash the burgundy stains off your cheeks, and close your eyelids again. You calm

yourself down with difficulty and even out your breathing.

You gather your thoughts and with titanic calm on your face, you enter a small living room in the Inazuma style, where you find Balladeer.

"What next..?"

You try, however, to make your voice sound confident, but it turns out to be hoarse to the point of disgrace, which makes the harbinger laugh.

"It's obvious, sunshine, you will live with me."

He grins. You are covered in frost, and your whole face acquires hard features. How unbroken, stubborn, strong you want to seem in the eyes of the harbinger brings him to tenderness. You hide all your fear behind sarcasm and irony.

"Pha, the last thing I wanted in my thrice-wanked life was to be held captive by some megalomaniac."

You respond sharply, to which he smirks, surprised by your ability to be sarcastic, he does not even respond to your remark and insult. Scaramouche closes his eyes and folds his arms over his chest, shaking his head like a disappointed parent.

It seemed like you wanted to add something, but you turn around and leave. This amuses Balladeer even more. It is hard for him to imagine how gray and atrophied his century-long existence was before you appeared. Now, after each Fatui task, after a trip to Snezhnaya for the sake of a meeting, after completing another stage in becoming a God, when he returns to you, Scaramouche is met by the cold gleam of your eyes, and the strands of your hair braided by his own hands.

The first few days you look like a ghost. You hide, barely move, and keep your mouth shut. Fear crawls under your skin and tickles your ribs - fear of pain, fear of loneliness, fear of the unknown. You keep waiting for something merciless, restrictive, perverted, but Scaramouche does nothing and only occasionally catches your silhouette with his gaze.

Scaramouche is not one to wait patiently when he has every opportunity to take his own immediately. But he gives you time, like a merciful deity.

"You're late. I was hoping you wouldn't come back,"  You can't help but let out a rude retort. The harbinger walks into the kitchen, taking off his hat, leaning against the door frame, and says sarcastically, drawing out the words: "Oh, look,voice has already emerged huh?"   

You grimace, burning your hands with a cup of hot tea. "What's new, other than you were worried about me?"   

"Me? Worried about you? Don't flatter yourself"

You grin, the puppet knows exactly which weak points to press so that you react, transform, become softer.

"What's new about being cooped up inside?" You raise an eyebrow skeptically and chuckle, leaning back in your chair. "I created a new salad recipe from what I found, meditated, and developed a speech, coming up with fifty epithets for your name. I'll make a song out of it." 

"It's so sweet that you thought of me, I would have listened," he squints slyly and goes to the countertop to make strong, bitter tea. Bitterness with the taste of bitterness. He himself hides his usual cynicism, as if pushing needles back under the skin. He is irreconcilably drawn to this barely familiar feeling.

Your mutual mockery is diluted with calm conversations about something personal and everyday, sometimes you talk about the past while he braids your hair into a light braid (and you, initially, did not agree). You relax a little, almost get used to it and begin to notice how non-committal and calm Balladeer can be. It seems that he does not need anything at all, except your presence and involvement.

The false sense of security becomes too clear and all-encompassing. You convince yourself of the falsity of this feeling, beg yourself to be stronger and more stable, but inevitably you open up and respond to the most obvious manipulation of the harbinger.

You can't do otherwise. Otherwise, you'll just go crazy from loneliness in a cage. And is it possible not to think about how truly good Scaramouche can be when signs of a peculiar silent care are embedded in your consciousness: You'll find a blanket in your room: the harbinger knows for sure that you're freezing at home in particularly windy weather and therefore love everything warm, you bury yourself in the blanket and do something. Or in the morning you'll see a still-hot mug of tea with your favorite flavor on the kitchen table: the harbinger has accurately calculated the time of your rise and food preferences.

It throws you off balance. You have to pull yourself away and replay the images of what happened in your head over and over again. You remember he's a murderer, right? You remember his hands covered in someone else's blood and that guy's sclera? (The sclera is like the eye, dude.)

Now will you drink tea brewed by these hands? Or wrap yourself in a blanket bought after another murder?   Yes...

You should have felt disgusted, but no matter how hard you tried, you didn't feel anything close to that. But you felt how his cruel, dark image, invented by you, was breaking into pieces and becoming better in some ways, more ideal in many ways. To a pleasant surprise. You once again take a mug and sit down in an armchair in the living room, covering your legs with a blanket. On a nearby table, you find a book in a red hard cover with ornate silver patterns.

 "All sorts of synonyms to enrich speech." And, to your horror, you smile sincerely and laugh infectiously at his mockery. (laughter through tears)

--

"I need to go to the market square," you casually drop, combing your hair in front of the mirror. Late evening has crept up unnoticed and settled on the window panes with the night darkness and howling wind, too similar to someone's helpless crying. Scaramouche is distracted from some inazuma book and looks at you, or rather at your reflection in the mirror.

"For what?"

You sigh in irritation and, without turning around, answer sarcastically: - "Let me remember what a retail space might be needed for. If my memory serves me right, to buy something."

"Oh, and have you forgotten how to open doors?" - You wind your eyes in surprise, stop combing your hair, putting the comb aside. In the reflection of the mirror you see his casual look. - "Go and buy some."

Scaramouche is not one of those who willingly respond to all requests. And yet Balladeer allows you too much. Generously provides independence, does not constrain movement, loosens the invisible noose. - "But for this liberty you will sing to me," he smiles playfully, baring his incisors, and squints. You suppress a dismissive laugh and, without trying to hide the lie in your words, echo:

"of course..but later"

Scaramouche catches that this means never, and laughs. How sharp you are. You see in the reflection how his features soften, take on shades of innocence, and so he freezes between two extremes. You exhale through your open mouth and hold your gaze on him longer than necessary.

Threads - into knots, knots - into nets, and in them only to get entangled and to sink to the bottom. No balance and equilibrium.

You scrape your tongue against your teeth and force yourself to come to your senses while Scaramouche "unties your hands."

And, as it turns out, in vain.

be ready..

@anantaru @hitomisuzuya @lavandulawrites @himasgod @neuvigroove @quimichi @rsventhesecondd @anemoswirlsmyheart @nil4everheartz @kujiba @genshingorlsrevengeance

[epickiya722]

Honestly, once more I feel some of the fandom really only cared about the shipping and not the actual characters.

Like, seeing people go "Katsuki is going to be pining and alone forever" actually makes me feel insulted on his behalf.

Was Katsuki only an appealing character to some of you because of "pining"? Who said that he was going to be alone forever?

I see people saying so much I'm starting to think it's being secretly manifested because it's what some of you want. I know some folks like that Katsuki angst. Don't you want him happy?

Sooo.... his development wasn't important? Was he only important to you if he and Izuku were together? Am I the only one who is happy that they at least are on talking terms?

Seeing Izuku talking to Ochako isn't enough for me to go "Katsuki is heartbroken forever", I'm sorry. The duo (Izuku and Ochako) are not standing in wedding clothes and exchanging vows.

Was it forgotten that MHA is a popular Shonen? The target audience is geared towards a young male audience, so yeah, we weren't going to get canon BakuDeku and instead Izuku talking with Uraraka.

Which was it is. Talking. Just talking.

Was they not allowed to do that???

Shoot, I needed everyone to talk because they haven't been able to do it!

Who know what's crazy? If Katsuki was the one to advise Izuku to talk to Ochako, that makes me realize that at some point, Izuku and Katsuki did have the talk they needed to get to the point that they're comfortable enough to give the other advice and be close again.

Like "hey, we talked it out, so now it's time you talk it out with her... man, we all need to get it together".

I thought making amends is a present idea in the story. Some of these characters need(ed) to do that. Katsuki and Izuku wasn't the only pair now.

Personally, given the target audience, it would be so funny if Horikoshi was sitting there sketching like "I'm gonna give these two the most 'dap me up' handhold ever". This feels like him going "Fine, I'll give what is wanted but not everything".

Something tells me he didn't even want to have an epilogue.

[seenoversundown]

For Death Or Glory : Epilogue

Jake Kiszka x Charlotte (Fem OC)

Warnings: 18+ Smut (you know the drill) Fluff, Romantic Themes, Drinking / Alcohol (once more- it’s a bar) Pining, Harmless Bullying, Swearing, Wholesome Family Fun (which is crazy to say considering what’s coming next)

Smut Warnings: Kissing, Oral Sex, Hands going places, Penetrative Sex | they’re both switches - do with that what you will

Word Count: 10.6k

Summary: It’s the bar’s second anniversary and a certain couple’s first.

Author's Note: I bet you thought we were done here 😉 You already know that I couldn’t let this end that easily! I knew from the start that I would have an epilogue for you, but as I was working on it, I had a thought— luckily for you.. I wrote it in. If you notice the word count, this is astronomically long compared to the rest of the story; I decided to add basically a second chapter once I had the idea. (If you need to pause, there’s a definitive break that you could absolutely stop at! I’ll add a couple ***’s so you know when)

Consider the second half like a bonus chapter if you will 🥰

Anyway this is getting long, I love this story, these two, and you guys for loving them with me. I hope you giggle and kick your feet over this monster of a chapter 🖤 this is definitely not the last you’ll be seeing of these two, but for now, let’s just enjoy this together 🥹

Forever - Noah Kahan "I won’t be alone for the rest of my life, I’ll build a boat for when the river gets high."

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One year later.. 

“That’s okay; just drive safe, honey.” 

I tucked my phone back into my pocket, grabbed a few stray glasses, and rounded the corner behind the bar. Thankful that the bar isn’t busy at the moment, even though I know we’re mere seconds away from the chaos that’ll ensue. 

Deciding to keep the tradition, the bar is only open until eleven tonight because of the holiday. All of our regulars will still make it a point to stop by tonight since it’s the floating anniversary of the official opening. I know there’s an actual date that we opened, but letting it change with the holiday every year is more fun to me. 

It’s nice getting to spend a few hours just working with Josh while everyone else is wrapping up work or getting ready for tomorrow. It is funnier that they’ll all show up tonight, even though we’re about to spend the next two days together. 

“What happened?” Josh asks, leaning against the bar. 

I look over at him as I’m setting all the glasses into the dirty bin, telling him, “Oh, she’s fine,” and letting out a small laugh. “She hit traffic, but she’s almost here– just feels bad she’s ‘late.’ You know how Char is.” 

He chuckles to himself, “Oh, that silly girl must have forgotten that everybody and their cousin is driving today.” 

“I told her that I didn’t care when she got here anyway,” I tell him, giggling at the thought of her stressing over the time. “We have the whole weekend together; I’m not going to complain that she’s twenty minutes behind.” 

Josh just smiles back at me for a second before breathing out, “It’s sweet that she still wants to soak up all the time she can with you, though.” 

“I hit the jackpot with her for sure,” I let out quietly, checking the fridges to make sure everything was good. “Are you good for a minute? I just need to answer a few emails real quick.” 

He shoos me away to my office, where I’ve sat to do a few admin things before it gets busy or Charlotte shows up. I mindlessly read through a few emails that can wait until after the holiday weekend but then start writing back to the more important ones. I know that I could realistically do these after she’s here but the last thing I ever want to do is be this level of distracted from her. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the past year, it’s that I love my job, but I love her more. 

I fell in love with Charlotte within three weeks, and she’s only proven to me that it was the greatest thing I could have let myself do. Despite the fact that we don’t live very close to each other, the days we aren’t physically together fly by. It still lets her have some independence, even though I would have asked her to move in the day we started dating. I’m so used to the chaos that I don’t think she could ever bother me. 

Not that I have the most experience with relationships, but I would say that she is probably the most incredible girlfriend that exists. I still feel like I’m dreaming most days; the only downside is when she’s upset, and I can’t get to her fast enough. Not exactly proud of the few times that I’ve almost left the bar because she sounded a little too sad saying she missed me on the phone. 

“Hi baby,” Char’s voice rings through my office. 

“There she is,” slips out as I whip my head over to her. Quickly standing up, reaching for her hands as I got closer, I said, “I missed you.” 

“I swear nobody knows how to drive today,” she tells me in between kisses. “Literally, everybody just kept slowing down even though nothing was happening!” 

Chuckling at her, it’s precious when she’s worked up like this. Kissing her forehead gently before telling her, “Breathe honey, it’s over. You made it.”  

 “I know– you’re right,” She breathes out before quietly asking, “You’re sure your parents don’t mind me being here for Thanksgiving?”

“I think my mom would explode if you didn’t,” I told her. “Plus, I wouldn’t want you to spend the weekend alone.”

“I still don’t know what possessed my parents to plan a vacation during the holidays, but” she rolls her eyes with a laugh but squeezes my hands when she tells me, “I’m much happier to spend them with you.”

Kissing her a few more times before saying, “I’m just excited to have you here all weekend.” 

Pulling her out into the bar, sitting in the booth that the rest of the family will stake claim over later. She sat across from me, telling me about her day since we were both fairly busy and hadn’t gotten to talk much throughout the day. 

“Oh!” She pipes up. “I found this, and I thought you might enjoy it.” She hands me a folder with random paperwork, and I just look at her with my eyebrow raised. She giggles quietly, “Look at the corners, babe.” 

I start reading all her little notes. This is what she was doing the whole time. Every page with the margins filled with little intrusive thoughts she must have been having; ‘hands, hands, hands,’ ‘pretty mouth,’ ‘he’s so cute I could cry.’ Random hearts surrounded some of them, with my name written out in cursive every few pages, like a girl in elementary school.  

Thinking of all the times I would glance over at her, she would just be scribbling things down with a little smirk on her face. Or the way she would tuck pages away when she saw me coming over. 

My heart swelled, seeing that she had been secretly feeling the same way. It always felt like there was something more than ‘friends with benefits,’ but I was so afraid to get my hopes up. I chuckle to myself,  breathing out, “I love you so much.” 

Met with silence– we haven’t actually said that to each other yet. Not that I didn’t want to, but we both just nervously danced around it. My eyes darted up to her, realizing what I said. 

Her eyes are wide, “.. Jake.” I close the folder and set it in front of us. Shit. You’ve made it a whole year without letting it slip; that’s impressive enough, right? 

“Char,” I start; it probably is about time I finally told her. “It sounds insane, but I’ve basically loved you since the day you walked in.” 

She slowly blinked at me, “What do you mean? How?” 

It truly feels like I have to just come clean with it at this point, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you after you left that day; something about you just stuck with me.” 

“I felt like I ruined your whole day. You definitely seemed like you were panicking?” 

“Oh, I was,” I laugh. “But I thought about you every day until you came back.” 

“But—” she hesitates, looking down at the table for a second. “I cried in front of you, literally the second time we actually saw each other.” 

I nod at her, “Oh, I know.” 

“And I lied to you..” 

“Hun,” I start, grabbing her hand. “I would do it all over again a million times if it meant I got you at the end of it.”

She just stares at me, and I watch her eyes as tears creep in. She looks up, trying to fight the inevitable.

I reach up, knocking the little tears off her cheeks like always, before telling her, “You don’t have to say it back. Don’t feel like you have to. I’ll gladly wait until–” 

She cuts me off with a quiet, “I love you.” 

The sound of it practically knocks the wind out of me; I knew from the beginning that she would probably take a while to say it in general or even just say it back because she was so hesitant about her feelings. I never wanted to pressure her into it, even though a year ago, with us standing out in the snow, I knew I was in love with her. 

I slide out of my seat, take two steps to be next to her, squat down, and grab both of her hands. 

“Can I say something to you? I don’t expect anything from you after,” I ask, looking up at her.  

“Of course.” 

I look at her for a split second before I finally let it out, “I’m so, so in love with you, Charlotte. I’ve been waiting for you to feel comfortable saying it because I never want to overwhelm you or push you away. I can’t imagine life without you at this point; you mean everything to me, honey.”

Her eyes are so soft, and her lip quivers a little as she looks back at me. She whispers, “You’re gonna make me cry.” She leans down to me, leaving a few gentle kisses on my lips. 

“And you are far more than I could have ever dreamt of,” She says with a little sniff as she fights back the tears. “I’ve never known a love like yours. Some days I still don’t believe you’re real and that I’m lucky enough that you keep me around even when I’m such a pain in your ass.” 

“You’re my favorite pain in the ass, though,” I tell her, kissing her knuckles gently. My heart is pounding as she’s telling me the sweetest things; it feels unbelievable that she feels the same way. 

Her little giggle blesses my ears before she keeps going, her voice still breaking as she tells me, “I hate that you had to be let down so many times, but I’m so glad that every girl fumbled you, so now, I get you to myself.”

“I’ll be yours for as long as you’ll keep me,” I whisper to her, watching as her chin quivers. She let out a small ‘oh’ as her hand flew up to cover her mouth. Rubbing her legs for a second until she pulls me into a hug. 

I kiss the side of her head before mumbling, “Happy anniversary, hun.”  Leaning back and carefully wiping the tears from under her eyes, trying not to mess up her makeup. Quietly cooing, “Oh, my beautiful girl.”

“Baby, shhhh,” she laughs, looking up to try and avoid more tears. 

I chuckle to myself, letting out, “Oh, I’m sorry. I meant, my absolute knockout—“

Her laugh cuts me off, which I would let happen any day—anything to see her smile. 

I feel a tap on my back, bringing me back to real life. I turned, and honestly, I should have known. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” my mom’s voice rings through the bar. Josh got it from somewhere. Her arms wrapped me in a hug, rocking me back and forth. 

“I’m excited to see you too,” I laugh. She pulls back, brushing the hair out of my face like she always does, just staring at me for a second. 

Her eyes soften as we look at each other; she looks like she wants to say something but holds it back. That’s weird. Gently moving me to the side, her excited voice is back, “Don’t think I didn’t see you!” Charlotte quickly stands up, also getting pulled into a hug. 

“Mmmm, my other sweetheart,” she says, Char’s giggling as she gets the same treatment from my mom. “I missed you two.” 

My parents immediately loved her when they met. Whether it was because they were so excited that I finally found someone or because Char is an incredible girl, who knows? Mom was especially over the moon about her when she discovered that they both enjoy baking and reading. 

I was nervous at the idea of them meeting her, especially when we had barely even figured out what we were doing. But, the moment we walked into the house where they were staying, it went away. We took turns grabbing each other's hands for comfort because it was all still so fresh. It probably seems wild to introduce someone to your parents two days into the relationship, but I’ve never been so sure about someone. 

My dad’s arm slides around my shoulders, pulling me into him for a second. 

“Hey bud,” his voice is way calmer. “I see you’ve lost them.” He chuckles. I glance over as the two of them are fully in conversation, to the point that my mom has stolen my seat. 

“Looks that way, huh?” I laugh, hugging him back. Nodding towards the bar, I ask, “Want a drink?”

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My dad kept us entertained for a bit as he sipped his drink, telling us about the trip to get here. They seem to have the worst luck with flying. I take the chance to slip out from behind the bar, and I sneak off into my office, pulling out my phone, but I quickly get distracted when I hear my mom’s voice. 

“How are you doing sweets?”

I look over at her; she’s leaning against the door frame, her eyebrows raised. I tell her, “Curious about what you didn’t say to me earlier if we’re being honest.”

“You saw that, huh?” She scrunches her nose at me. I move closer to her so she won’t have to be loud. Her hand taps my chest a couple of times, letting out, “I forget how observant you are.” 

“Mhm,” I hum back. “So, spill. What is it?”

She lets out a little sigh, “I’m not gonna be able to get through this.” Her eyes welled up almost instantly, “Being in love looks good on you, Sweetheart.”

“Oh?”

She grabs one of my hands and tells me, “I can just see how happy you are when you’re with her.” A tear sneaks out as she looks at me. “I’m just so glad you found someone who loves you the way you deserve.”

Squeezing my hand a few times, “You’ve always been the sweetest of the three of you.” She pauses to look up, trying to stop the tears. “I knew how badly you just wanted to find someone.” 

“Mom,” I whisper, wiping her face off gently. 

“I'm sorry—I'm just so proud of you. Between the bar and taking care of her, I just feel so lucky to watch the young man that you’ve become.”

My arms wrap around her, rubbing her back a little before mumbling, “Love you.” 

“Love you, too.” She whispers before asking, “Why are you hiding in here?”

I lean back, smiling as I tell her, “Wanted to see if something got delivered.” 

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As I’m helping run some drinks to people for Josh, I hear Against The Wind by Bob Seger playing throughout the bar. Dropping the fresh drinks off to the table, I turn around to see one of Chuck’s friends about to sit at the bar with an empty seat next to him. He must be waiting for him. 

He’s an older gentleman; he definitely looks like he would have been a sailor of sorts. The idea hits me— where is my girlfriend? I think to myself, chuckling at what’s going to happen. 

“Char- honey,” I yell to her as I walk over to the table; she’s sitting with Quinn, Willa, and Sam- the usual, but Mom is with them tonight. 

Her eyes light up as I get closer, looking up at me, oh god,  I’m such an ass. She lets out a quiet “Hi.” 

Sliding into the booth next to her, my arm pulling her close to me. I point to the man, whispering to her, “Remember how I told you about the Old Port Pirate?” 

“Shut up,” her hand flew up to cover her mouth. “Babe, you actually weren’t lying?” 

I just shake my head, “Do you hear what’s playing right now?”

Looking at me with wide eyes, her jaw drops when she realizes, “Oh my god, it’s Bob.” 

She’s so cute, wow. I quietly laugh before letting out, “And you didn’t believe me.” Shaking my head subtly, she will probably kill me if she finds out that he isn’t actually the pirate. 

She leans close, kissing my cheek; the feeling of her lips on me still makes my heart skip. Her face lingers close to mine for a second, and she quietly says, “I’m sorry, baby. I won’t doubt you anymore.” 

She can never find out. 

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Glancing around the table, my mom has Sam and Willa entirely focused on whatever she’s telling them about, and Quinn has disappeared to the bar to talk to Josh. I steal a sip of Char’s drink, realizing it’s practically just water at this point, but before I get up, I have to tease her a little bit. If she thought I didn’t catch some of the little things she wrote down, she is sorely mistaken. 

“So, I did see in your little notes that you think my ass is,” I pause to clear my throat dramatically, “Cute enough to take a bite out of?”

“The heart wants what it wants,” she breathes out, a soft smile forming. Her hand reached up to fix a piece of my hair that was flopped to the wrong side. 

I lean in closer to her, whispering, “If you wanted to eat my ass, honey— all you had to do was ask.”

She barks out a laugh, whisper-yelling, “JACOB, WE’RE IN PUBLIC.” Her eyes darted over towards my mom and back to me. 

“All I'm saying is communication is important in a relationship, and you already know I won’t say no to you,” I tell her, shooting her a wink as I stand up from the booth. “I’ll get you a fresh drink.” 

“Wait—“ Her hand catches mine before I can grab her glass, tugging me to her. She gently kisses me, holding my jaw and wiping my lip off after. If she only knew, I literally couldn’t be bothered if she left any sort of lipstick, gloss, whatever on me—but it’s adorable that she does it, so I’ll never tell her. She quietly lets out, “I love you, baby.” 

“Mmm, I don’t think I'll ever get tired of hearing that,” I mumble against her lips, kissing her once more before telling her, “I love you.”

I wander behind the bar to grab her some water; she’s been alternating all night, so she “doesn’t feel like dying” tomorrow. Before I can bring it back to her, Mel grabs it from me. 

“I’m basically done for the night; I can deliver it for you,” she laughs out. 

Glancing over at the time, it is nearly closing time already. I look back over at her, “You can be free. I’ll let Danny go too if you guys want to get home.” 

“You’re the best,” she shoots me a little smile, dropping off Char’s water and immediately sliding into the booth with everyone. 

I start picking up a little after Josh, which is fine because he has been hustling around for a bit now. But I feel his presence behind me as I’m wiping down some glasses to put back. 

“Meant to tell you– I grabbed our mail earlier..” Josh mumbles to me. Quietly, he asks, “Did you buy a ring?”

“Mhm,” I hum back, turning to him. 

He glances over at Char before asking, “Is it..?”

I just nod, watching his eyes light up. 

Immediately, he tears up, letting out a quiet, “Oh my god—“ 

“Don’t cry,” I giggle. “I don’t know when it’ll happen; I just wanted to be ready. “

His hands landed on my arms, whispering, “I’m so happy for you.” 

“Thank you,” I whisper back. 

He just stares at me for a second, “She really is a good one.” 

I look over at her as she hugs our Mom for probably the hundredth time today. Sitting with all our closest friends and family like she’s been here forever. They really took her in so quickly, which, given the situation when we met, was the most incredible thing they could have done. My eyes shift back to Josh, smiling as I tell him, “I think I’ll keep her around.” 

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After saying our goodnights to the entire family practically, Char sat in her typical spot at the bar. Even after a year, nothing has changed with how we function. Whenever she comes down here for the weekends, she’ll just sit at the end of the bar if I have to close and pester me the entire time. And I would never ask for anything else. 

“Will you make my drink?” She asks, batting her eyelashes at me. Like, I would say no. 

“Well,” I glanced over at her, cocking an eyebrow. “You’re in luck; I’m the only option.”

Quickly mixing everything together for her, I bring it over. Carefully setting it in front of her, but not without leaning over the bar to give her a quick kiss. 

“The service here is exceptional,” she tells me, laced with a slight laugh. 

My eyebrows raise as I tell her, “You’re the only one getting that level of customer service.” 

“I’ve seen the way you talk to Eleanor,” she taunts. 

My eyes roll at her comment; I point at her as I whisper-yell, “DON'T START WITH ME.” Unable to keep the smirk hidden away. 

“I’m not jealous! She was here first,” she says, holding her hands up while giggling away. 

“You shouldn’t be jealous.” 

“Oh, I’m not at all,” she tells me matter-of-factly. Casually sipping her drink as she looked me up and down.  

“Good,” I laugh out, folding my arms across my chest as I watch her. “What’s with that look?”

She waves her hand, making me move closer to her. She so casually whispers, “Just— I love that I’m watching you mix drinks and be silly, but you'll also make it hard to walk tomorrow.” 

My head drops, taking a deep breath. This girl's favorite hobby is making me sweat, I swear. “Jesus Christ,” I laugh out. Pulling my wrist up to check my watch, “What time do we close?” 

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“Wait right here,” I tell her, quickly walking into my room to grab the gift I got her. Pulling the little bag from my closet and the flowers that I had sitting in water on my nightstand, I make my way back to her, mumbling, “These are for you.”

She pouts her lip, looking at me, “Jacob, you’re so sweet.” 

Kissing me before she looks in the bag, a little smile lacing her lips as she realizes. Pulling out the book she’s been eyeing every time we go to the store, with a few little things that I found at her favorite thrift store down here. 

“You’re too much,” she lets out quietly, setting everything back in the bag. “Thank you.”

I lean against the counter, and I look at her, quietly letting out, “Josh went to Quinn’s for the night so we could have the apartment to ourselves.” 

“Well,” She says, her hands sliding up my chest as she leans into me. “Isn’t that just sweet of him?” 

I hum back, letting my arms drape around her hips, “Mhmm.” 

“Get to show my baby how much I love him,” she breathes out. Her lips pressed into my throat quickly. 

I looked up for a second before asking her, “What has gotten into you?” 

“Hopefully, you in a minute,” the sultry tone of her voice made my knees weak. 

“Holy shit, hun,” I breathe out. “A bit needy, are we?” 

She nods, quickly kissing my jaw before letting out,  “I’m sorry, you’re just sooo—” She leans back, the look in her eyes making my heart race. 

“Is that right?” I pop my eyebrow at her, watching the goosebumps flood her skin. 

“Mhm,” she hums back. Pulling her lip in with her teeth gently before telling me, “Hot enough that I’d eat your ass or whatever.” 

My head falls back as I laugh, not expecting her to bring that up. Managing to tell her, “I love you so much.” 

“Mmmm, we really should have started saying that sooner,” she pauses to laugh for a second. “Hearing you say that makes you even hotter.” 

My hands slide to the backs of her thighs, picking her up and setting her on the counter. Moving in between her legs, but her skirt made it difficult to get close.  

“What about when I do this?” I ask quietly, pushing her skirt up so it sits around her hips. Her jaw drops slightly as she looks at me. I can see the way her breathing is already a little heavy. I lean down, kissing her legs, covered with her tights. Gently, I work my way up her thigh until I notice that I can see right through them as I get closer to her hips. I push her legs a little further apart– did she not..? 

I can’t stop myself from smiling against her. My hands slide up her legs, lightly letting my fingers rub over her clit through her tights as I look up at her.  

“You tryin’ to kill me?” I breathe out. “No panties?”

I watch the pink come up in her cheeks as she bites her lip.  

“Lay back for me,” I whisper between kisses against her hip. 

As she leans back on the counter, I hold her hips, pulling her to the edge, grabbing at the waistband of her tights, pulling them down her legs quickly. I kiss the inside of her ankle slowly, leaving wet kisses up her thighs until I get too close. Resting my lips against her pubic bone, I slowly smile against her skin, knowing it’ll drive her crazy. 

“Jake, please,” she whines. Didn’t take long at all. 

I ask quietly, “What do you want?” 

Pressing my lips against her clit gently and then just hovering, letting my breath hit her. 

“Mmm,” she hums out.  

“Oh, you want this?” I taunt her, flattening my tongue against her clit. Lapping at it a few times, pulling a loud moan out of her. My hands still hold her hips as my tongue is practically spelling her name, listening to the sweet sounds that pour out of her. I wrap my lips around her clit for a second, lightly sucking in. 

“Baby, oh my god,” she moans out. 

I hum into her, sliding my hand up to her chin, glancing up at her, tapping her lip a few times until she opens her mouth. I slide my middle and ring finger in, and she wraps her lips around them. Swirling her tongue around them as she moans from the way my mouth is moving.

One of her hands knitted themselves into my hair, and the other held my arm. I carefully pull my hand back from her when she lets out a louder moan, slipping them right into her. ‘Yes’ and ‘Fuck’ litter the air as I push them into her a few times.   

She props herself up, and I stand, leaning in to kiss her and start to pump my fingers faster inside her. She’s holding the back of my neck like it’s her lifeline. Adjusting my arm so my palm is flat against her clit, I curl my fingers up into that spot. 

“Jake, oh my god,” She moans into my mouth

I look at her for a second before whispering, “Soak my fingers, honey.” 

Immediately feel her hands grip my shirt, and the moans start falling out of her mouth. I can hear how wet she is and the way she’s starting to tense up on me. Leaning down, dragging my tongue along her, feeling her heartbeat. Looking back up at her as she breathes heavily, god, she is beautiful. 

“Jake.. baby.. oh.. oh my god, baby..” she mumbles under her breath as she gets closer. Her voice rises as she lets out a loud “Jacob.” That’s my favorite sound. 

Standing back up, her eyes flutter shut as she relaxes against me.  Her face is lying on my shoulder. 

“Come back to me, honey,” I whisper in her ear before kissing her cheek. 

She sits back as I pull my hand from her, “I wanna see something,” she whispers, grabbing my hand that was just inside her. Tugging it up, muttering a quiet  “Open.” 

Sliding my fingers into my own mouth, swirling my tongue around them, tasting her on me. I can feel my cock twitch. I don’t know what she’s doing to me, but it’s working. Her jaw dropped at the sight, and I let out a little groan just to really rile her up. 

“God, you’re so sexy, babe.” 

I can feel my face warm, giggling at her compliment. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the way she treats me.

“Come on,” I tell her, holding my hands out to help her down. As soon as her feet hit the floor, she swung me around. 

“Not so quick, handsome,” She giggles, pushing me gently against the counter. She unbuttons my pants quickly and tugs them down just enough. Her hand pulled my cock from my boxers and slid it into her mouth in one smooth motion.   

My hands gently held her head as she moved further down the length of it. Fighting every urge to let my hips thrust into her. The moment her nose barely grazed my stomach, my head fell back. How is she mine? When it starts to feel a little too good, I lightly tap her shoulders. Holding my hands out to help her up, I make her trade spots with me again, her back against my chest as I tuck my face into her. 

 “Can you bend over for me?” I whisper into her ear.  “Need to feel you.” 

She eagerly leans onto the counter; I drop down, licking a wide stripe up the center of her one more time, with my hands hooking around her hips so I can grab her ass. Leaving a little kiss against her before standing back up.  

I slip into her, letting out a little groan as I do. Even after a year, it still blows my mind how good she feels. Slowly rocking my hips into her, my grip on her hips tightening with every thrust. My hand slipped down, grabbing at her and pulling her back to me quickly. 

She moans quietly, “Baby, you feel so good.” 

My heart pounds at the sound. I start moving faster, fucking her harder. Listening to all her little sounds as I do. Without thought, my hand moves from her hip, coming down against her asscheek with a loud crack. The moan that came out of her practically made my mouth water but also made my face heat up, and grinned as I leaned down, kissing between her shoulder blades.

“You like that?” I mumble against her. 

Letting out a small “Yes.” 

“Mmm,” I hum out. “My sweet girl.” Slowing my hips down, tapping her sides gently. 

I mutter, “Come with me,” as I’m pulling her into the bedroom. 

I unzipped her skirt so it fell to the floor as she unbuttoned my shirt, pushing it off my shoulders. Her hands moved to push my pants down as I grabbed the bottom of her sweater, pulling it over her head. She pushes me back towards the end of my bed, gently pushing me to sit down. 

She unclasps her bra, letting it slide down her arms until her tits are on full display. “Fuck me, you’re so hot,” I let out as I watch her toss the bra onto the floor. 

She crawls into my lap and slips my cock back into her. Her lips pressed into me as she sat down. Rolling her hips against mine as we made out. My hands just run all over her, taking her in as she makes herself feel good.   

When I feel her start to move up, my hands move to hold just under her ass. Helping lift her up, watching her tits bounce as she rides me. 

Her hands hold onto my shoulders for support; as she leans in close to my ear, she mumbles, “Baby, your cock is sooo-” My hips jerk up as she tells me, making her moan at the feeling.  

My hands still holding tight onto her ass as she rides me. I just take her in as she writhes against me, my grip on her tightening a little. Her eyes meet mine quickly, the way her pupils dilate as she stares at me. 

Her sweet voice whispered, “Do it again.” 

My eyebrows pull together until her hand reaches down, tapping my wrist a few times, with a devious little smirk on her lips. OH. 

She rolls her hips against me a few times when I pull my hand back, bringing it back down against her quickly. The sound mixed with the moan she let out— I could get used to that. 

She moans out, “Fuck me, Jake.” 

One of my arms wraps around her waist, holding her close to me as I stand up. I lay her down against my pillows, still sitting between her legs; I lean over, grabbing a condom quietly. I know I won’t last long at this point, so I lean down and start dancing my tongue around her clit. Listening to her moans get higher pitched, her hands grabbing at my hair as she gets close. I plunge my fingers back into her, looking up at her when I say, “Tell me how good it is, honey.” 

Her jaw drops, and the grip on my hair is strong as I work her through her orgasm; the sound of her voice as she comes makes me weak.  

Sitting up on my knees, keeping one hand lightly rubbing her thigh, stroking myself a few times. I slide the condom on as she comes down, just watching her for a minute until she looks back at me. 

I slip back into her, leaning down and kissing her slowly. Feeling the way her breathing is still heavy, she lets out a happy little “mmm” against me. 

Starting to move my hips, I just look down at her. That’s my girl, my gorgeous girl. My heart starts to race as I take her in when I let out a quiet “I love you.” 

Her hands grab my face, pulling me into her. She kisses my top lip gently, the tip of my nose, and lingers her lips against my forehead when she whispers back, “I love you, baby.” 

We stay in this slow pace, littering kisses all over. Her hands basically touch any part of me that she can reach, as if she just wants to feel closer. Cradling her head in my hands, I just stare at her as my hips gently rock into her. 

God— she’s mine, I think to myself. She’s genuinely the most beautiful person I’ve ever known, and I get to have all of her for myself. My hips start to move faster at the thought. 

Leaning down close to her, I tuck my face into her neck, breathing her in. My pace picks up again; she’s mine. The thought makes me smile against her skin. 

“Fuck—mmm…” I groan; I can feel my orgasm starting to build. Snapping my hips into her a little harder,  “mine” slips out, and my eyes go wide. 

Until she whispers back, “Yes baby, I’m all yours.” My heart pounds at the fact she’s encouraging it. 

“Say it again,” I tell her, my voice a little louder. 

“I’m yours,” she breathes out in a moan. 

My eyes roll back a little at the sound, fuck.  

“Come on, Jake, show me how much you love me,” she tells me. My breathing starts to pick up, letting out little whimpers when I exhale. 

She keeps going; her voice is making everything so much more intense. Whispering, “I know you’re close; let me have it.” 

Feeling her legs wrap around me, Fuck— she’s so hot. She holds my face gently, moving me so her lips are just hardly hovering over my ear when she lets out, “Come, baby,” in the sexiest tone I’ve ever heard. 

My orgasm hits me like a freight train, moaning out, “Char—“ 

A minute goes by; she’s just running her hand through my hair, letting me cuddle into her. One of her hands slid down to just gently scratch my back; this is heaven. 

“Feel good, babe?” She asks quietly. 

I just hum back, “Mmmm.. mhm.” 

I can feel her kiss the side of my head a few times, so I lazily kiss her neck. Slowly but surely, I prop myself up to look at her. 

“Come with me?” 

She giggles, moving the hair out of my face. “Where are we going?” 

“I just want to shower real quick,” I tell her, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. My voice gets quiet when I let out, “But.. I want you to be there.” 

She leans up, kissing my cheek, “Okay.” 

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We both stand there in the shower, letting the warm water hit us. I’m just trying to prevent her from getting her hair wet so she can worry about it in the morning. But being able just to hold her for a few extra minutes was perfect. 

She leaned back and looked at me. Her voice was quiet, “Do you want to know when I realized I loved you?” 

“Of course,” I say with a small laugh. 

She smiles at me, her arms sliding around my neck, “Well, you know the one night that we went out together?” 

I laugh before saying, “Hun, we’ve done that a lot in the past year.”

“Oh, true,” she starts, giggling. “When we went on the unspoken date— we were still pretending we didn’t like each other that much.” 

“Yes, absolutely,” I laugh with her this time. “I was incredibly obsessed with you at that point, but yes, continue.”

Her face got a little red at my comment, but she finally told me, “When you were singing to me and making me dance with you— all I could think was how I could spend forever watching you just be happy like that.” 

“Forever’s a long time,” I whisper, my eyebrows raised at her with a little smile. 

She leans in close, whispering back, “Not long enough with you.” 

She is my wife; I’ll make sure of it. 

After spending a couple of minutes struggling to breathe while we made out, we were finally crawling back into bed. We lay there talking for a bit before she started to fall asleep. 

I can’t help but kiss the top of her head as she drifts off, mumbling into her, “I love you so much.” 

She looks up at me, her eyelids heavy, mumbling back, “I love you.” 

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Thanksgiving Day

Listening to the shower run and the random splashes from her washing her hair, I sneak into Josh’s room. Grabbing the package and quickly opening it. The small velvet box creaks as I open it. An oval cut diamond sparkles back at me, little clusters of diamonds sit on either side, and a dainty gold band. I hope she likes it. 

I’ve spent the last year watching her when we’re at stores where there’s jewelry or the occasional glance when I see her scrolling on her phone. She’s never been pushy about anything happening; granted, we just told each other, ‘I love you.’ But she is my little romantic lady, and I’ve watched her zoom in on ring posts, figuring out the things she likes.  I can’t wait to call her my wife one day. 

I wander back into my room, tucking it behind a few things on the shelf in my closet. Knowing she’s too small to get to it and chuckling to myself at the thought of her trying. 

The water shuts off, so I make my way to the bathroom to be a menace. Slowly opening the door, peeking in as she’s wrapping herself up with the towel. 

“Shit— I missed it.”

“Sorry, babes,” she sighs. “Gotta move quicker next time.” 

“I’ll wait,” I giggle. Watching her rub various products into her face. She keeps peeking over at me as I just lean against the counter. She’s so fucking beautiful. 

“Are you really just going to watch me get ready?” She asks through a laugh. 

I just nod at her, “What else could I be doing?” 

She steps over to me, giving me a kiss with a little grin on her face. 

“I’ll make you a deal.” 

My eyebrow pops up instantly, “I’m listening.”

“If you bring me a fresh cup of coffee, I’ll drop the towel,” she tells me with a little wink. 

My eyes widen at the proposition, and no words come out as I scramble to the kitchen to make her more coffee. I’ve never set up the coffee pot faster. 

Practically prancing back to the bathroom with coffee for both of us, holding hers out to her. I’m sure I look like a kid on Christmas, but when your girlfriend is as gorgeous as mine, it’s hard not to be excited. 

She takes it from me, sipping on it quickly, “Mmm.. thank you.” She tilts her head back with her lips already in a cute little pout, waiting for a kiss. I set my mug on the counter, cupping her jaw before kissing her. I feel the towel hit my feet, and the smile that creeps onto my face makes it hard to keep kissing her. 

“Have I told you that you’re the best?” I giggle against her lips. Backing up a little to take her in, I still get butterflies whenever I look at her. She looks at me through the mirror, my smirk selling me out before I can even ask her, “What if we just ditched my family and you stay like this instead?” 

“I think you’d like that a little too much,” she laughs as I wiggle my eyebrows at her. “Plus, your mom would never let you hear the end of it.”

“She already loves you. You don’t have to be on her side, you know?” 

“I’m just trying to save you from another sex lecture from her, baby,” she tells me, a shitty little smirk on her lips. I never should have told her about what my mom said; she’s teased me ever since because almost nothing is worse than to have your mom, of all people, talk to you about your sex life, especially as an adult.  

“Speaking of,” I start, knowing she’s going to yell at me for what I’m about to say. But it’s a little too fun to get her going. Fighting a smirk as I tell her, “If we sleep there, you’re gonna need to control yourself. I know it might be hard for you—“ 

“Excuse me?” She cuts me off. “You’re going to look at me right now and tell me that I have no self-control?” 

I let out a loud laugh as she stared at me. 

“Jake, be so serious,” trying to hold in her laugh, she rolls her eyes at me as she clips her hair up out of her way. 

“You’re right,” I tell her. “But, honey,” I move closer to her, sliding my hands around her waist, “How am I supposed to have self-control when you look like this?” Pressing a kiss into her shoulder. Letting my hands wander up, cupping her breasts and letting my thumbs run over her nipples lightly. 

Her head leans back against me, “Babe, you’re proving my point,” she whispers. She turns her face, kissing my cheek before looking back into the mirror to finish putting her makeup on. “Let me finish getting ready, and I’ll take care of you later, promise.” 

My eyes shoot up, and my hands drop to her hips. I hold them as I meet her stare in the mirror. I can see the red creep into my cheeks as she winks at me. 

“Char—“

“You’ll just have to stay quiet for me,” she says, immediately followed by her little giggle. 

My head drops back because I know I’m blushing hard at this point, “Oh, shut up.” I slap her ass as I move back to my spot, grabbing my coffee and sipping on it as she laughs at me. 

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After watching her eyes light up when she picks out what she wants me to wear. She insisted that we coordinate at least since it’s really the first holiday we’re spending together, and my mom is notorious for taking pictures of everyone throughout the day. 

She always looks good, but I can’t stop staring at her as we walk down to the car. In an oversized cream sweater with her tights and boots, she looks precious, especially so when she’s got her hand wrapped around my arm as we walk—opening her door for her and letting her get comfortable. I toss our bag into the back seat as I make my rounds to the driver’s side. 

Instinctually, I just hand my phone to her so she can pick music. It’s adorable how she tries to find songs that we both like, even though I don’t think I would question anything she puts on. 

Reaching over, she quickly slips her hand into mine. Spending the rest of the drive listening to whatever she picks and the little giggles that come out of her as she scrolls through things on her phone.

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“You ready for the chaos?” I whisper as I throw the car in park. 

She’s gotten more used to spending time with everyone, but adding my parents in is a different beast entirely. They all mean well; it’s just a lot of people with loud personalities.

She leans over to kiss me, whispering, “It’ll be fun.” 

I grab our stuff from the backseat, and as she comes around, I hold my hand out for her. Carefully walking up the dirt driveway, my parents are always choosing different Airbnbs to stay in, and this one is just in the woods this time. As we get up to the door, I turn around to look at her. 

“One more,” I mumble, leaning in to kiss her again. Her little smile against me made everything better. Knocking on the door behind me as I left a few small pecks on her lips. Hearing someone walking towards us, I pull away from her. The last thing I’m going to do is mildly embarrass her right away. 

“LOTTIE,” Quinn’s voice made me jump. 

They squeal and hug as if they don’t see each other almost every day, if not at least talking. They’ve become incredibly close over the past year, which probably doesn’t help that we’re all in the apartment often enough. 

“Which of my babies is that?” My mom’s voice carries from a different room. Waiting for her to come in, knowing exactly what’s going to happen. “Oh my goodness! Don’t you look so cute!” She pulls Char into a hug, and here we go. 

“Thank you,” Char’s sweet giggle laced it. “It already smells amazing in here.” 

“Oh, you’ll have to come see what I’m baking– actually, I may have you help me if you want,” Mom tells her, her eyebrows raised, knowing that Char isn’t going to say no to baking. 

“Ooooo! Yes, please!” 

We’ve been here for two minutes, and I’ve already lost her to my mom. This may be record timing. 

“Hi, Sweetheart, I didn’t forget about you,” Mom coos as she comes over to me, glancing at my outfit. “She dressed you, didn’t she?” 

I just nod, hugging her. Mumbling to her, “Where should I put our bag?” 

“Whichever room you want,” she tells me, “I’m just so happy you’re gonna stay the night.” Her hand patted my chest a few times.

I smile at her, “Of course.” She just looks at me, tucking my hair behind my ear before turning back to steal Char away. 

Wandering down the hall and choosing one of the rooms to throw our stuff in. Feeling a little insane as I just smile to myself, but every time we do something for the first time like this, it’s like I’m falling in love with her all over again.  

“Well, well, well,” Josh’s voice rings from behind me. 

I whip my head around, “Surprised you’re not out there with everyone?” 

“I was kicked out of the kitchen,” he tells me. “Apparently, they don’t agree with my ‘creative decisions’ or something.” Rolling his eyes as he folds his arms over his chest. “So, I’m going to force you to hang out with me instead.” 

“Ahh,” I let out, laughing quietly. “Just like when we were kids.” 

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We found ourselves sitting in the living room with our dad as the parade was starting on TV. Just catching up with him until we hear the front door open, knowing that it must be Sam. Listening to our mom holler through the house, “Is that my baby boy?” 

Josh and I look at each other from across the couch. He rolls his eyes, and I can’t fight the laugh that comes out. 

“I saw that,” our dad mumbles, a small smirk creeping onto his face. 

Josh, being who he is, shrugs dramatically and, with a sarcastic tone, lets out, “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Both of us giggled like children again. 

“You two aren’t as slick as you think,” he laughs. Groaning as he stands up from the couch, he gives my shoulder a squeeze as he walks past. 

It only takes a couple of minutes before he comes back to join us again, with Sam in tow this time. Sam plopping down near me, which is probably for the best at the rate this morning is going. Josh would probably be pestering him instantly. Our dad fell back into the spot he already had claimed. 

Spending the holiday all together was always nice, mostly because none of us were working, and we obviously didn’t get to see our parents all that often. Typically, Josh would get roped into helping our mom, but I think she’s really living her best life with Quinn, Willa, and Char in there instead. She’s always been outnumbered by us, so now we’ve all been told to keep out. 

Getting to spend time with our dad as an adult has been way more fun. He was usually the one in charge of telling us to ‘knock it off’ as kids and having to separate us when we were fighting. But now, we just get to enjoy hanging out with him and seeing him laugh at the stories we tell rather than have to lecture us. 

In the midst of a story from him, Quinn walks in, setting a tray of little snacks for us on the coffee table, pointing out one of them to Josh, but I couldn’t hear what they said because Char slid her hand over my chest from behind the couch. 

“Thought you might want this,” she says, handing me a hot cup of coffee. My head tilted back against the couch to see her as I carefully stole the mug from her. 

I just stare at her for a second, taking in how adorable she looks today, before mumbling back, “Thank you, hun.” She leans down, kissing my forehead before padding back off into the kitchen. My self-control really is low because I absolutely watched her walk away until she was completely out of sight. 

“You good over there, bud?” My dad taps my arm, bringing me back to reality as he chuckles to himself. 

My face heats up a little, but I just sip my coffee to try to hide it. 

“They’re always like that,” Sam chimes in, making a disgusted face at me. I flip him off as I take another sip of my coffee. 

“Samantha, I know you’re not talking,” Quinn says, making the rest of us laugh. “Don’t forget, I can hear you and Wills talking when you’re at our apartment.” 

His jaw drops slightly, just staring back at them. 

“Should I give examples?”

“Nope! I’d rather you didn’t!” 

Josh chimes in, “I personally think it’s cute how she has Jake wrapped around her finger.”

Our dad laughs as soon as it comes out, which makes me laugh. He isn’t wrong. Quinn kissed Josh’s cheek before prancing back off to the kitchen. 

“Hard not to be,” I mumble into my coffee mug. All I can think of is how she’s just the type of love I need in my life. She’s this incredibly independent woman, so confident in her career, and wildly intelligent— she blows my mind every day. But then she’ll come home to me on the weekends and melt into me, just wanting to be loved and so sweet. Or if I go to her and the bar has been overwhelming, she’s so gentle and takes care of me. 

The sound of Sam and Josh cackling brings me back while my dads mutters, “Oh, give him a break.” Probably good that I didn’t hear it. 

We all sat around as Dad updated us on how life outside of New England was. Telling us about all the little places they’ve found, their favorite restaurants, and the few friends they’ve finally made. 

“That’s great, Dad,” Sam chimes in. It feels like we’re all kids again, just hanging out with him; the thought alone makes my heart swell a little.

“You guys should come visit during the winter,” he tells us. “Get out of the cold for a few days.” 

I look over to him, “I’m sure we can plan something.” 

Hearing a fit of laughter coming from the other room, we all look at each other in silence. 

“That’s a scary sound,” Dad groans quietly, and we all giggle. “Everyone knows a secret about one of us now.” 

“Don’t say that.”

“Oh god.”

“No, no, no.”

He throws his head back in laughter, “Figured you boys would have learned at this point. Your mother loves to share secrets with anybody who will listen.” 

“Shit,” I let out under my breath. This isn’t the first time she’s been around Charlotte, but I’m usually right next to her, so the secrets have been kept to a minimum. I’m definitely fucked. 

Quickly distracted by the sound of little feet walking through the room, Iris runs straight over to Josh when she rounds the corner of the couch. He scoops her up in a hug, her little laugh making all of us smile. 

“I should have known that’s where she was going,” Danny’s voice cuts through the laughter, joining Josh and Iris on the other side of the couch. 

My dad has always loved him, well— both of my parents do. But he has an open invitation to every holiday that my parents decide to host. I think they like that he has Mel and Iris now, especially since none of their actual children are going to be giving them grandkids anytime soon. 

They’re mid-conversation when Sam abruptly jumps up, walks to the hall, and yells, “Mom! Santa is almost here!” Coming back to the couch, our dad shot him a wink.  

“Thank you, Sammy,” Mom lets out loudly as she scurries into the room, leaning on the back of the couch behind Dad. Everyone follows her in; Willa is plopping down next to Sam, and Quinn is sitting on the floor below Josh. There she is.

“Hey you,” I whisper as Char sneaks over to me, tucking herself close to me as we watch Mel tell Iris to look for Santa. My arm tugged her as close as I could because I knew I was only getting her for a couple of minutes. 

“Is this a thing?” She whispers in my ear. 

I nod, turning my face to whisper back. “My mom always makes sure that she comes in to watch Santa show up because we would get so excited when we were little. So now, we always make sure to get her before, and she always cries when he shows up.” 

Her little smile when she lets out a little “aw” before looking over to my parents. My mom’s arms are slung around my dad’s neck, and he has one hand covering hers. Her eyes already teared up at just the glimpse of Santa and Mrs Claus, but the tears finally fell when Iris jumped out of Josh’s arms, pointing to the TV. 

“Oh, what a sweet little thing,” Mom lets out quietly. 

I pull Char’s legs over mine, keeping my hand on her thigh. I want to just keep her to myself now. The urge to keep her trapped only got worse when she leaned her head against me. 

Before I knew it, chaos ensued yet again. My mom stole my girlfriend from me, not before I snuck about eighteen “one more” kisses on her— despite being told to get a room. 

Somehow, we all got roped into a game, or a handful of rounds, of hide and seek with Iris, proving that we are still just children. 

All of us laugh as we run around this house, trying to find places to hide that aren’t too hard for her to figure out. The only downside was dependent on who she found first. Unfortunately, Sam only plays to win, so if she found him first, we were all screwed; he would be holding her on his hip as he did all the leg work for her, making a scene when he’d find us, which made her belly laugh every time.  

We spent a few hours entertaining her when my mom finally announced that the food was basically ready. I wander into the kitchen to grab a drink, but I am sidetracked when I sneak behind Charlotte, sliding my arms around her. 

“Hi, baby,” she giggles quietly. 

I snuggle my face into her neck for a second, whispering, “I’ve missed you all day.” 

“I’ll be all yours soon enough.” 

I press a kiss to her cheek before letting go, asking, “What do you want to drink? I’ll bring it in there for you.” 

A collective ‘aw’ rings through the room, and I can feel my face heat up a little. At least they think it’s cute; I’ve just been bullied all day. I poured some of the wine from the fridge into her and grabbed a glass for myself. Going out of my way to give her a kiss, feeling her grab my ass as I turn to join the rest of the boys. I whipped my head to look at her, and she just smirked at me. She subtly blew me a kiss. She’s lucky she’s cute. 

Everyone slowly joins the table, taking turns grabbing food. There are at least fourteen conversations happening at once, but somehow, it’s not overwhelming. Char is sitting to my left, my hand finding comfort on her leg every so often. The conversations varied throughout the meal from everybody focused on Mom telling a story, likely about us as kids or just tapering off into a million different ones. Feeling her hand grab mine once she was done eating, she just mindlessly played with the rings I had on as we sat there. 

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After dinner was done, Mom insisted that none of the kids help with dishes but get into comfy clothes so we could watch Christmas movies together. We all say our goodbyes to Danny, Mel, and Iris since they have more families to visit. 

 I lay on our bed, watching her change into my sweatshirt and some leggings. She looks up at me, giggling as she pulls on some fuzzy socks, “they’re extra comfy,” she told me when she packed them this morning. 

“You ready, honey?” I ask as she sits on the bed with me. 

She lays back, throws her leg over my hips, and plants a kiss on me. Letting out a quiet “Almost.” She snuggles herself into me for a minute, which I won’t complain about. My hand squeezed her thigh a few times. 

“Comfortable?” 

She nods her head against me, “I’ve barely seen you today. Feels weird.” 

“I’m glad you had fun with my mom, at least.” 

She lets out a little laugh, propping herself up on her elbow before telling me, “She told me a little secret about you.” 

“Did she?” 

Her smile is wide as she stares at me, “Mhmm,” she hums. 

“Why do I feel like I know what it is..?” I mumble, squinting my eyes at her. 

Her sweet little laugh sneaks out, “Well.. something about you always crying over having to wash your pirate jammies?” Of course.

“Come on, if we don’t get up now, I’m never gonna go,” I tell her, patting her butt a couple of times. Why does she have to tell everybody that? 

“Oh, don’t be embarrassed!” She hangs on me as I sit up. “It's cute, baby!” 

“Yeah, yeah,” I roll my eyes at her, fighting a smile. “I’m sure she’s ready to spill all my secrets to you.” 

Her lips land on my cheek as she giggles at me, her hand holding the other side of my face. She whispers, “I’ll tell you my secrets later if you want.” 

Jesus Christ. I can feel my heart rate pick up, quickly spitting out, “Alright, you. Let’s go.” 

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We make our way out to the living room, claiming the corner of the couch that I’d been in all morning. I give her the actual corner of the couch and just pull the coffee table closer so I can prop my feet up on there. 

It’s not long before everybody else is coming in and getting comfortable. Sam and Willa steal the other corner since his legs are too long to be banished to the end of the couch. My parents sat between us, mom closer to me. 

Josh and Quinn curl up together at Char’s feet, just propping cushions up so they don’t squish her. Dad shuts off the big lights, just letting the little lamps try to light up this room. 

My mom changed it to The Grinch, and the tradition continued as we all curled up with our own blankets.

I feel Char adjust so she’s cuddled up on my chest, my arm wrapped around her to keep her close. Pressing a kiss to the top of her head without thought. My mom’s hand grazes mine, making me look over at her. She holds my hand for a second as we just stare at each other, giving my hand a few squeezes before she leans into Dad. 

And there we all sat, laughing at the movie like we do every year. Finally, feeling complete as the love of my life giggles against me while I’m surrounded by my family. It feels like nothing could get better at the moment until she tilts her head up, kisses my cheek, and whispers, “I love you.” 

I glance down at her, giving her a quiet kiss, hoping to not out us to the rest of the room. She just stares up at me, the green of her eyes hardly visible in the dim glow of the TV. But the butterflies still erupt inside me when she looks at me like that. I can’t believe I get to spend forever with her. Slowly blinking at her, I just take her in.

Finally, whispering back, “I love you, honey.” 

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Chapter Twenty-Five

FDOG Master Post | Masterlist | Playlist

Sam & Willa : Sparrow Of The Dawn

Josh & Quinn : Amongst The Stars

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Taglist:

@gvfsstardust @myleftsock @dont-go-home-without-me @literal-dead-leaf

@lizzys-sunflower @mackalah @klarxtr @edgingthedarkness @writingcold

@takenbythemadness @earthgrlsreasy @peaceloveunitygvf

@josh-iamyour-mama @anythingforjtk

@broken0mens @whereiskeara @gvf-luna @katuschka @threadofstars @i-love-gvf

@jazzyfigz @smoking-jakelane @gretavanfan @scoreofinfantryvines

@demonrat444 @hollyco @ourlovesdesire

@musicspeaks @wrldabomination @chloeshell1219

@becinabubblegvf @sanguinebats @lallisonl

@nicoleghost18 @lightmy-love @myownparadise96 @cheersdannyx2

@musicislove3389

[kissmypoets-hp]

@oknowkiss asked me fantastic question — what drarry fics would you recommend to your boss? 

and i took that SERIOUSLY... literally thought about this the entire day and i have some Answers

first of all, i feel like i need to clarify that my boss is not much older than i am, haha!! sorry if any of you thought i suddenly found myself in the presence of a legendary fandom elder who participated in paving the way for today’s fandom — though she is a legend in her own right, of course: her vibe is very much 🎀✨put-together corporate tech girlie 🎀✨(the kind with impeccable taste in fashion, kitchen knives, and interior design) .... at this point in time, everybody’s got fannish hobbies, and i already knew we both grew up on the internet and liked YA during its prime, but not everybody writes fanfic and actually posts it online, which is why i was literally so floored at this REVELATION i immediately logged into tumblr and had to Post about it…. 

that being said, she is STILL my boss and i’m pretty sure she hasn’t thought about the hp fandom in a long time, so. if i were to HYPOTHETICALLY give my boss a drarry fic rec list, i would start off with something relatively family-friendly 🤣 (also i apologize in advance for inconsistent link formatting)

first off: Hermione Granger's Hogwarts Crammer for Delinquents on the Run by waspabi.... this is actually the first drarry fic i read, ever, so i’m being Nostalgic and biased because this is the fic that convinced me back then. but i think this as a first rec works, too, because she was a dramione shipper, and hermione and draco are here, too (only, what if hermione was lowkey a fujoshi instead....)

since i’d HYPOTHETICALLY be trying to Win Over somebody already familiar with the hp books + the fandom — i feel like i’d have to start with fics that confront canon first, whether it means addressing plot holes or flaws in jkr’s writing and then subverting the shitty parts (the epilogue… lol) OR fics that are deeply rooted in the source material, so reading them would be like a refresher course on the hp world while also proving how compatible drarry are together in Situations, lol

i would also recommend Heal Thyself by astolat … in no particular order, some more classics: Dwelling by aideomai…. Away Childish Things / By the Grace by lettered… What We Pretend We Can’t See by gyzym… Running on Air, of course (the drarry fandom classics)… as visual people i truly think she would be charmed by dustmouth’s comics — i’d start with Going Postal and Harry Potter Gets a Job … 

so okay let’s say she’s getting convinced and i can now branch out to fics that are more TARGETED towards her specifically… i’ve never actually talked to her about fandom/trope preferences or fanfic prior to this day so i am definitely playing it safe ahahaha BUT we have bonded over rom-coms, coming-of-age stories, and lorde’s discography and email newsletters…. here are fics that give off That specific feeling to me:

Harry Potter and the Future He Doesn't Really Want, Thanks. (this was actually the first fic i thought of recommending tbh... something about loneliness in the city, hanging out with friends, it's time to play Ribs... HYPOTHETICALLY i wouldn't lead with a rated E fic though 🤣 also, as mentioned, i have a Strategy)

Faint Indiscretions by ignatiustrout

before a fall by eleadore

fics with rom-com references!!

you’ve got mail: Pages of You by wolfpants

mamma mia: if you’ve changed your mind by warmfoothills (orphan_account)

jane austen-esque references: amid this warm and steady sweetness by warmfoothills (orphan_account)

no specific rom-com as it's technically disney, but in here THE KIDS PUT ON A PLAY and it’s hercules…. we both enjoy musicals so this goes on the drarry syllabus: Falling for a Golden Boy by OTPShipper98

clueless au: Tis a Far Better Thing by The_Sinking_Ship

other recommendations i would give if i were able to successfully sell drarry to her:

Can I Tell You Something…? by Gallaplacidia (as drag race fans…)

we’re both designers who loved art first, so i NEED to recommend Truth to Materials by toomuchplor and lately. it's my duty

kylie minogue shade… the premise reminds me of an inside joke so INSTANT RECOMMENDATION: moonflower_rose’s Nothing But You On My Mind

fanfiction that would be appreciated by somebody who stanned one d*rect*on during their peak in the 2010s + the height of 1/D, 5sos fics on wattpad: Star Quality by who_la_hoop / Rich Friend by iota

fun fact, though: i roped another friend with very little prior knowledge of hp (apart from a few movies) into becoming a drarry shipper 🤣 so the moral of the story is there is a drarry fic for EVERYBODY even the non-believers… and drarry writers are so TALENTED they can convince just about anyone to come to their side...

this is so fucking wordy and self-indulgent!!! i took this WAY too seriously but i feel like tumblr is THE platform for long text posts anyway, lol. now if you've made it this far, i need to know: what drarry fics would you recommend to your boss?

just finished my 1:1 chat with my manager at work and i just found out she used to write DRAMIONE FANFICTION omg…. i wonder if i can get her to read drarry fanfiction in the year of our lord 2024…

[a2zillustration]

Does croissant and gale get married in your story?

It's certainly something they plan to do!

But not just yet.

🥐 Croissant Adventures Masterpost 🥐

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Izutsumi character study

[hydralune]

Midnight Epilogue is still haunting my brain. Anyway, here is Alkaid getting attacked by a woodpecker:

[misericorsalvator]

An Epitaph

Henry didn't know where he was. It was cold, freezing, but that was all he could tell, from the sharp chill that tore through his damp clothes, to the frigid air that felt like icicles in his lungs when he breathed. Even if he was someplace familiar, it would have been impossible to tell through the veil of rime in the air, the thick hoar that coated the ground. But wherever he was, he had to find shelter. soon, before his limbs grew any number that they already were and he lost the three fingers he had left on his right hand to frostbite. It took a good deal of walking, trudging through the snow, before he found something resembling sanctuary. A rocky hovel dug deep into a mountainside he hadn't even noticed was there. The crooked mountaintop loomed far overhead like a wind-swept pine tree, towering over the barren expanse and shielding the small patch of land near the cave's entrance from the worst of the snowfall. It was a narrow fit, the opening more narrow than a coffin, but it opened up into a wide chamber beyond, dark, lit only by the little light reflecting on the snow outside.

Panic stabbed at him suddenly. That chamber felt familiar, though he couldn't recall from where. The rockface of the walls was smooth, man-made, and the stalactites hanging from the domed ceiling above were unnatural, all the same length, jagged and sharpened to fine points. But he had no time to waste on the unnerving interior. The weather outside was getting worse, the wind howling like wolves on a hunt, and soon his shelter would be just as cold and dangerous as the outside. He had to think, find a way to keep the warmth in. Henry returned to the entrance. He twisted around in the narrow space as best he could and began piling up snow with his numb hands, stacking it, pressing it into shape, mouthing breathless curses to himself, until he had built a solid wall halfway up to his neck. It should last. He didn't know for how long, but at least for now, until he could catch his breath. It had to last.

Henry slumped against the wall of the cave. The barrier he had built offered some protection, but he could still feel the cold creeping in, seeping through the gaps and cracks in the snow. A damp chill gnawed at his bones, freezing the air in his lungs. He knew he had to keep moving, to do something, anything, to stay warm and awake. He couldn’t afford to fall asleep. Not here. Not now. But his limbs were leaden and his body creaked in protest with every movement. His teeth chattered as he tried to think, tried to remember where he was and how he had gotten there. The harder he tried, however, the more his thoughts seemed to slip away, like sand through his fingers. Panic clawed at his chest once more as he looked around the cavern. The walls seemed to close in, the smooth stone shimmering with a thin layer of rime frost. The ceiling above with the unnaturally sharp stalactites, loomed over him like a mouth full of fangs. He had to get out.

Henry pushed himself off the wall, his legs shaking beneath him. The snow was piling up faster now, further in through the entrance than the wall he had built, and he frantically began to shovel it away with his hands, trying to clear a path through the narrow gap. He shovelled harder, floundered, grappled til his fingers were too numb to move, but for every tiny hopeful opening he made, more snow took its place, as if the storm outside was determined to bury him alive. The cold was unbearable now, seeping into his very soul. Outside, the wind roared, a feral sound that echoed through the cavern and made the air thick with cold. Each breath now was a knife to the chest, each inhale burning his lungs. The snow crawled closer, blocking the entrance fully, and began to cover the cave floor inch by painful inch, forcing the hunter back step by painful step.

Henry's mind was reeling. He stumbled further into the cave, away from the encroaching cold, the bones of his legs creaking in protest. The deeper he went, the more the walls seemed to close in on him, the smooth rock pressing down, suffocating. The quiet there was unnerving, an oppressive stillness that made him painfully aware of his own laboured breathing and the pounding of his heart. The silence of the grave. For what felt like an hour, he pushed himself forward against the stone walls, cowering under the stalactites which were now low enough to graze the top of his head. No matter how far he went, the snow followed close behind, blocking the way back. Henry's movements grew slower, more sluggish, until he could no longer outrun it, and that white frost began piling up around his boots. He felt the fight leave him, his breathing weakened, his heartbeat slowed.

Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw it—a single snowflake, delicate and perfect, drifting down from the ceiling above. His breath caught in his throat as he watched it fall, impossibly slow, through solid rock. It glowed faintly in the dim light and Henry’s eyes followed its descent, almost hypnotized, until it landed softly on the ground. On something dark, something that wasn’t stone. He crouched down, his stiff knees cracking in protest, and wiped away the snow, his fingers brushing against a cold, unyielding surface.

A hand.

His hand.

His breath caught in his throat. He was looking at himself, at his own lifeless body, crumpled and broken, half-buried in the snow. The wounds were horrific—deep gashes and punctures that were draining the life out of him-- and the realization hit him like a sledgehammer.

This wasn't real.

The snow, the cold, it was all in his head, growing blurry as his brain ran out of oxygen. And the cavern wasn’t just familiar—it was the place he was dying, right now, in the real world. The place where his body was lying, bleeding out into the cold ground, his blood darkening the stone ground.

For a third time, panic surged through him, but it was laced with a deep, bone-weary exhaustion. The wind howled louder, and now Henry could make out voices, battle cries, screeching and yowling in twisted satisfaction. The snow now poured into the cave through the solid ceiling above, burying everything in its path. He wanted to claw his way out, to escape this nightmare, but his limbs wouldn’t respond. The snow was too thick, too heavy, pressing down on him from all sides. As his vision began to blur, the walls of the cave pulsed, breathing with a life of their own, in tandem with his own slowed breaths. The snow continued to fall, endlessly, burying him, until all he could see was white. And then, from the heart of the storm, he saw a figure—a tall, imposing silhouette that moved with unnatural grace, cutting through the blizzard as if it were nothing. Henry tried to focus, but his mind was slipping, the edges of his consciousness fraying like old cloth.

His final thoughts drifted to Bran. A deep guilt welled up inside him. He wouldn’t make it home for Christmas this year. He wouldn’t see his boy’s face light up when he opened his presents, wouldn’t hear his laughter echoing through the house. Regret gnawed at him, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. In his last moments, as the darkness closed in, Henry barely registered the sharp pain in his chest—a bite, cold and searing, as if winter itself had latched onto his heart, and his eyes froze over with unshed tears until the world faded and he breathed his last.

In a long-forgotten catacomb in Wales, as the last drop of Henry's blood soaked into the humid ground, something ancient stirred. Beneath the layers of earth and stone, within the crypt that had long been forgotten, a pair of eyes snapped open. After centuries of entombment, something awoke. The blood of the dying hunter seeped into its consciousness, filling it with the remnants of Henry's life, his memories, his regrets. And once the blood had ran dry, the ancient knight rose from his tomb, his eyes burning with a cold, unholy fire.

He tore through the killers, the blood-thirsty beasts who had chased their prey to the ancient tomb, splattering the walls with their undead blood that burnt to ash, until none were left. Then, he looked down at the broken body of the hunter who had unwittingly become his saviour. With a grim sense of purpose, the knight knelt beside Henry’s lifeless form. He whispered words in a dialect long dead, a prayer, perhaps, or a vow. Then, with a reverence reserved for fallen comrades, the knight lifted the hunter’s body and carried him deeper into the crypt, where heroes were once laid to rest, where the knight's own tomb stood, broken apart from within. The hunter was gone, his spirit entwined with the ancient knight’s own, but his legacy would live on, honoured by one of the very creatures he had once sought to destroy.

The knight sealed the tomb with a final, solemn gesture, then left the catacombs behind and stepped out into the warm summer night, into a world which had long outlived him.

[invinciblerodent]

Y'know, I think ultimately this very line exemplifies a pretty big part of why I decided that this game would be the one I consider my "canon" one. It's not just because I'm terminally attached to my girl, or simply that I enjoy the story the game tells with her specifically, but also... this.

I'm happy to see how he thrives (and gesticulates, and acts silly) on a friendship path too, but I just can't help but be endlessly endeared by this goofy line that shows just how far he has come so nicely.

It was a long ride getting here, but to get this glimpse of what they are like without any mortal danger hanging over their heads, it genuinely feels worth it. ❤️

[just1gnome]

"that sounds tediously boring"

gnome beat the game

here they are on the boat

[couldbebetterforsure]

I see a million and one warnings telling me to prepare my heart for whenever I read Meteor Impact but NO ONE wanted to put out warnings telling me that Climax would make me sob from sheer adoration for my precious boys and their growth and love for each other?!?!?!?!!???!????!!!

[todayisafridaynight]

any hopes for kiwami 3? like things u wanna see added or changed stuff like that

if they dont keep kiryu's goofy walk stance and the hoof-like walk sounds i dont wanna play it

[deoidesign]

Will we ever see the camp and the campers again? Even if it's just in the background?

I don't think so, at least I have no plans to. The comic is much about exploring the concept of loss and learning to appreciate the time we have with people despite them not being a permanent part of our lives. Friends come and go, we break up with people, and loved ones die. But to fear this so much that we never make a connection with others is no way to live, we have to learn to meter that risk for the rewards of being loved.

Adam has to learn he can love again, and to do so he must fully let go of the man he lost. Adam sees solutions everywhere, but his partner is gone. No amount of research, time travel, magic, or rebirth can bring his partner back.

Steve has to accept that his condition inherently will limit his time with others, and he needs to learn how to not let this stop him from connecting with people regardless. He also needs to learn he is capable of positively influencing others, and that's worth making himself vulnerable for.

Because of what the characters represent, need to confront within themselves, and ultimately need to overcome there's a few things that I don't want to write.

1: Steve will never regain his memories

2: he will never be able to fully control his time travel

3: he will never get to see most of the people he has loved again.

This includes the campers, the pirates, everyone so far besides the vampires we've met. While of course I love these characters all deeply, I think they've fully served their narrative purpose, and offering them a return will undercut my themes.