#one second i love it the next i want to change everything about it

[bunny-jpeg]

mrs. colapinto

franco colapinto

tags: smut/pwp, established relationship, loving!franco, curvy!reader, marriage, honeymoon, cowgirl position, clit teasing

no one knew who franco's sweetheart was. the argentinian driver had captured the world's heart, but who captured his heart? and oh, did you capture it. you were the air he breathed, the sun in the sky, a bright light in his soul. but, franco was protective of you. he didn't want to the world to poke and prod at you and your life. your education, your personality, your body.

france know that each inch was beautiful, every centimeter had been explored by his lips over the years. you were perfect, beyond perfect. he probably had your curves memorized like lines on a track. he could trace them with ease. so, he didn't need the input of fans or the press to determine if you were worth loving. franco knew that you were worth loving.

it was better that you could attend university in peace, that didn't mean that franco ignored you. he was texting you the second he could get his hands on his phone, you two were doing virtual dates when you were apart, and at the very least he could get you on facetime while you were snuggled in bed, on campus, or preparing (a late) dinner. it felt like the only time he could relax, while he was happy to have a shot at formula one. he missed the comfort of your small apartment, the home-cooked meals, how you'd ramble to him about your recent essay topic. to hear your voice. it was his personal heaven. every chance he could, he'd take photos of the cities he was in. he sent flowers every so often, and even got his hands on small souvenirs to send back home to you. you were on his mind during this sudden propelling into racing success.

if you couldn't go with him. then he'd simply bring the locations to you. as he once said to you, "anything for you, mrs. colapinto." then winked at you when your face went hot. he the laughed when you smacked him in the arms. it only made you face hot when franco mentioned marriage so casually. off handed comments to make you his bride. you knew you wanted to marry him, but everything felt too busy at the moment to take that next step. you didn't need him to feel the pressure of marriage on top of f1.

so it was a total shock when he proposed over a home-made dinner during a small break in the season. while you were about to enjoy the meal you made together, you caught sight of the small diamond in the ring. the way it caught the yellowing light of the dining area. you choked on your meal when he asked, "my love, will you marry me?" he put the velvet box down to hand you his water glass to help you swallow down the food, "i'm so sorry! i should've waited till after you ate!!" then when you stopped choking, you smiled between heavy breaths and he smiled too.

"franco." you said, you did get a little misty eyed when he rounded the table to put the ring on you. you kissed him deeply.

you two had your wedding during the off-season. it was a spur of a moment with few witnesses with dinner after. but word of the marriage wasn't kept quiet for long. people caught sight of you leaving the courthouse in white with franco in a suit. so you were franco's sweetheart, now his wife. everyone wanted to know who franco's little secret was. just a regular university student with no much of a social media presence. except for maybe a semi-active tubmlr, where many found out that you were a lewis hamilton fan. but other than that there was no personal information. but while you were on your honeymoon for the rest of the break, the press couldn't wait to get more information about you, and franco was more comfortable to formally introduce you. they juat had to be nice about it. you spent the break overseas and he happily kissed you in front of the cameras.

when you asked him what changed, he said, "you're my wife now! i want to show you off because if they are cruel, i can better stand up for you. protect you!" and then gave you what felt like a dozen kisses.

much of the honeymoon was spend in bed however, curled up in the rented apartment. the bed was soft and of course franco wanted to make you feel loved. to make love to his wife. hours spent against you. he loved when you rode him, the jolt of your body as you rolled your hips against him.

the heat got caught in your throat as you oved against him. you felt amazing as you made love- in all fairness, you sexual activity went from tender to rough fairly quickly.

"that's it, my love, my wife. you feel amazing, i am addicted to you." nothing else mattered in the bedroom except for your hips pressed against him and your hands on his chest. the feeling of you moving up and down on his cock with a needy want. his praise for you was heavy as you clenched around his cock, "beyond beautiful, my love. stunning. i knew i wanted to be with you the moment i met you. i love you, i love you."

"fuck, franco." you painted nails dug into his shoulders as you moved with all the force in your body.

his cock twitched inside of you, his words got filthier as the heat coursed through him quicker, "all mind, but you knew that. i'm so in love with you, there are zero words for it. never want or need anyone else. no, no, not when i have you. you're all mine just as i am yours." and met your pace. a sweet moan left his lips. you shifted against him and he only held onto you tighter. the headboard rocked against the wall a little. he wanted you all, and now as your husband, he could have it.

you didn't last much longer. you came first, then he did. and then, like a little devil, he teased your clit until you came once more. which made you tense up and kiss him deeply on the lips. you hissed, "fuck, honey."

"i know my love, you feel beautiful under my touch. as you should be." his voice laced with want and love, you were his and his only. you soon laid out with him in bed as the afternoon light shined through. he held you in his arms and you laid a hand on his chest. the diamond glimmered in the light as you laid curled up with your franco, your husband.

you stayed close to him, feeling his love as the two of you continued to enjoy your honeymoon together, some years in the making.

franco made a post the day after your honeymoon ended. with various photos throughout your relationship. you did however blush when you saw one of the photos, when you two were still teenagers, when right before when he moved to italy. there was you in his old racing helmet, you at his birthday party doing drunk karaoke together, and a finally a photo when you went to an art gallery together. an additional photo was posted of you on the bus with him to the williams headquarters. the caption read, "you have brought life into my world, let's always grow and love alongside each other. my beautiful, mrs. colapinto." <3

[svetamillss]

As someone who has asthma when sick, can I please have hyun-ju and sae-byeok take care of asthmatic reader while they’re sick? 🥺👉👈 thanks!

Headcanons: you have an asthma attack🤍

Featuring: Cho Hyun Ju x Reader(f), Kang Sae Byeok x Reader(f)

Summary: two different situations with these beautiful girls!

A/N: Thank you for such an order! It was interesting to work on it! Take care of your health!!

🤍🤍🤍

Cho Hyun Ju

It was a hot summer. You would like to stay at home and eat ice cream, sitting under the fan, but your girlfriend had to go to the hospital for sex change procedures, so you volunteered to go with her. After all, your Hyunnie needs support.

You decided to get home by bus, because it will take less time. But you'd better walk. Because as luck would have it, everyone decided to act like you, to go by bus.

It was so cramped that it seemed that it was about to explode from the number of people. You moved to the window, Hyun Ju closed you from everyone, she didn't want other people to touch you.

Time seemed to last forever, there were more and more people. It was getting stuffy for you, very stuffy.

It was started to strangle you, there was no room in your chest. You wanted to leave, get off this damn bus, but you couldn't say anything. You didn't have enough air to say something. You got it, you've got an asthma attack.

You immediately started touching your girlfriend's hand, who had been dreamily looking out the window before. When she looked at you, she saw you breathing heavily and very red.

- God, baby, what is it? - she was scared, but instead of answering, you pointed to her bag and she understood what had happened.

- Be patient, now, baby. - she took the inhaler out of the bag with shaking hands (you always had two inhalers. One in your bag, the second in your girl's bag).

She helped you breathe in from the iglator, gently stroking your back with the other hand. You feel better, gradually. You could breathe, you began to feel much freer.

- Is everything okay??? - the girl was still very worried about you that you could notice tears that were about to come out of her eyes.

- Yes, my love.. - you answered quietly, then buried your face in her chest.

Hyun Ju was still worried about you, so she decided to get off the bus and walk the rest of the way. She didn't want to risk your life.

The girl bought ice cream for each and you walked most of the road in the shade, next time you won't get on such a stuffy bus.

Kang Sae Byeok

You started dating a girl, so now she called you for a walk much more often to show you her love. It could have been different places: a cafe, a cinema, an embankment and many others. You could go around the whole city with her, the main thing is to spend more time with her.

So today she invited you to the park, as the weather was just wonderful. You gladly agreed.

Everything was going well, you walked, talked about different topics, Sae Byeok began to smile more often next to you. You were happy. But then you felt that you started to suffocate, stopping, you started coughing, the girl didn't like it. You coughed as if you were about to die. She was scared.

- What happened? Did you choke?? - she knelt in front of you, frantically touching your hands.

- Inhaler..in..in the bag. - through coughing and suffocation you tried to convey what you needed and she immediately took your purse, looking for what you needed, as soon as the inhaler was in her hands, she gave it to you, and she ran to the nearest stall.

You finally inhaled freely, then looked around the park and saw a lot of flowering trees, to which you were strongly allergic.

- That's it.. - you said, at that moment your girlfriend ran up to you with a bottle of water.

- Hold on, drink it, it should get easier.

- Thank you.. - you did as she asked and you really felt even better.

- I'm allergic to these trees, that's why I got an asthma attack.

- God..it's my fault. There are so many trees in this park, I didn't want to..

- Honey, it's not your fault, I'm fine right now. You didn't spoil anything, we'd better go somewhere else, like a cafe? - you kept her sad face in your palms, when you saw that she agreed, you gently kissed her on the lips.

No disease can stop you.

🤍🤍🤍

[jd-loves-fiction]

𝐊𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐯𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐚

❏ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Aventurine x GN!Reader

❏ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff + ANGST!!!

❏ 𝐰𝐜: 1.6k

❏ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Aventurine has been distant since returning from Penacony. He finally decides it's time to tell you all you deserve to know... or as must as he can bring himself to, for now. His real name seems like a good place to start.

❏ 𝗮/𝗻: Full disclosure, this was meant to be smutty but I got lost in the sauce (angst and Aven's incredible character writing) so all aboard the sad but fluffy train instead :)

The heavy oak door slides open smoothly, the sound of expensive leather shoes tapping against wooden floors as Aventurine sighs far too heavily. When you look around the corner at him, he’s taking off his hat before tugging off his shoes. 

“Hello,” you breathe softly, hand upon his chest while pecking his chapped lips. He offers a low grunt in response as you draw back to look him over, “Riney?”

He seems to flinch, an anguished expression there in a second and gone the next, covered by that deceitful veil of a smile, far too cheerful to be genuine, “Darling–”

Your finger meets his lips before he has a chance to pretend like nothing is wrong, along with a stern but fond look. You take his coat and begin leading him further into the apartment, urging him to sit on the couch.

Ever since Penacony he’d been… distant. Not that your relationship had ever been especially intimate before, at least not emotionally, but something had changed on that planet. You’d catch him watching you more than usual, looking away when caught unlike usual; see him reach for you out of the corner of your eye only for his hand to drop before it touched you; he’d begin to form a sentence with a strangely serious look on his face before slamming his mouth shut in obvious frustration.

The night he’d returned… you could tell there was something itching to make its way out past his trembling lips… but knowing he’d be meeting with the rest of the Stonehearts early the next morning you told him to rest instead; to tell you another time.

It’s been weeks. And with his increased workload, the subject just hasn't come up – that's what you told yourself anyway. Clearly there was something he wanted, needed to say, but your relationship had never been one where you’d be allowed to push him for an answer and vice versa… you learned that very early on.

So you dont push him for an answer, kneeling between his legs and caressing his cheeks, “Tired?”

He nods wordlessly, eyes barely open, subtly leaning into your affection. He must be truly exhausted, “Come on.”

“Hm?” The look on his face when you pull away so suddenly to stand breaks your heart – like he’d been broken out of a trance, “I’ll run you a bath.”

Your feet itch to shuffle nervously, afraid you’ve pushed too far. He seemed receptive, but what if he’s done letting you in?

“Okay…” Aventurine whispers, taking your hand and letting you pull him along towards the bathroom. You don't comment on the dazed look on his face.

The man sits by as you warm the water, softly rambling about bath salts and scents you think he’ll enjoy, and other topics he cannot bring himself to focus on as the storm that has been building since Penacony starts boiling over.

You deserve to know. He must tell you– but what if– no. You deserve to know. No matter how much he would rather keep your relationship as is instead of risking ruining everything by telling you the truth, he cannot keep it to himself any longer.

If you call him that name again, in that sweet, lovely voice of yours, he might snap.

“Water’s warm.” He snaps out of his haze, managing a small smile in acknowledgment, before standing up to take his clothes off.

The urge to turn away and busy yourself in order to keep yourself from staring is ludicrous – you’ve seen him naked more times than you can count. That's how this all started after all. And yet you give in, fiddling with shampoo bottles in order to give him space.

“What? Don't tell me I've gotten so hideous you can't even look at me?” He calls out cheekily, hoping to lift the weight that had settled in the air between you.

“No!” You answer, turning to Aventurine just as he pulls his shirt over his head, not even bothering with the buttons. Eyes yearn to linger on the hills and valleys of his alabaster skin, but they instead settle on the brand at the side of his neck; ‘slave’ it reads. That was the topic of your first argument. Or what could have become an argument if you’d pushed any further. “Not at al.”

Your eyes over him with such open fondness, knelt by the bath you prepared simply because you know he’s tired – Aventurine has to look away, lest he blurt out something he’ll regret.

The temperature of the water is just right and yet it seems to burn him, unknowingly cold as he’d become from the anxiety running through his veins, as if chastising him for taking so long to just say it; to bear it all to the person who’s cared for him the most in years; who’s seen through his lies and never pushed, gazed upon his scars and never questioned…

“...Riney?” He’s sitting in the water, straight as a rod, head down, hair over his eyes and you worry if the water’s too cold, or too hot, or if he has any injuries he forgot to tell you about. Your hand reaches to sweep his hair from his eyes, before it’s caught in his grasp, “Aventurine?”

He shakes his head slowly, his grip soft and yet trembling, “Please… don't call me that…”

“What… should I call you then?”

Silence.

A long silent moment of a million thoughts running through both your heads.

And then, like a stab through the heart, “Kakavasha.”

It’s not a word you recognize. The synesthesia beacon didn't translate it. It must be Avgin. His birth name.

“Kakavasha.” You repeat quietly, testing the pronunciation – hoping you’ve got it right.

His head snaps in your direction so quickly it makes you jump, seizing you by the shoulders, hands dripping warm water. Beauty eyes wide, pupils dilated, lovely lips agape, “Did I… say it wrong?”

“No it’s– it’s perfect. You’re just… the first person to say it in so long.” His hold on you eases.

“Talk to me.”

Kakavasha looks at you now and truly sees you, clearer than he ever has and wonders for a moment if you’re real at all. If he’s still a boy in a cage with a collar around his neck. He quickly decides that, no, you have to be real. His mind isn't so kind as to imagine something as lovely as you.

“I’m sure you know most of the story but,” his hands move through the water, scooping some onto his shoulders just to have something to do, “I’m from Sigonia-IV. I’m the last Avgin and my name is Kakavasha. There’s so much more I want to tell you. So much more you deserve to know. About my sister, my mother, how the IPC found me. But I don't know if I–” he looks down at his hands.

“You don't have to say it all right now. Just let it come out.” You get to rubbing his shoulders, processing the information and aligning it with what you’d inferred over your months together, “But… what exactly made you decide to tell me?”

He heaves a deep, tortured sigh – this is the hard part. As if admitting he’s the last of his species and giving you his real name wasn't hard enough.

“Penacony… turned into much more of a mess than I expected.” He considers his next words very carefully, unsure if it'd be more cruel to tell you or not to do so, “I was… expecting to die there.”

A sharp intake of breath passes through your lips, hands flinching away from his figure – it’s a lot to process but, somehow, someway, it’s not entirely surprising.

“Well, I’m very glad you were unsuccessful.” Your attempt at humor is transparently tinged with both love and fear, lips trembling at the thought… that he’d be gone. Without ever telling you any of this.

Without saying goodbye.

“What happened there… it’s all very confusing but it made me realize that I wanted someone to know who I am. On the inside.”

“I wanted you to know.”

“Me?” You question meekly, suddenly unsure. He’d always been a guarded man, beneath the surface that is.

His hands rise out of the water again to cradle your face in warm, wet palms, beautiful singular irises boring into yours with a sincerity you’d thought him incapable of until an hour ago.

“There’s no one who deserves to know more than you.” 

Waterline burning with tears you move to kiss his forehead amongst wet strands of gold, lips linger to ensure that he is real, he is here with you, opening up in a way so seemingly impossible it makes you a little dizzy.

“I guess we have to start somewhere… Tell me about your sister.”

The air between you is forever changed, both lighter and heavier somehow. But also brighter, warmer, like the gentle sun rising over the deserts of Sigonia-IV. 

Everytime he speaks of his family, he gets a dazzling glimmer in his eyes, like he’s a boy again, playing with his sister, carefree and gentle.

And when he speaks of what came later, it’s lost, his expression turns sour and grim, like he’s in that cage again, doing everything to get out. He’s no less handsome with that expression as any other. In fact, the more you learn, the more you realize that losing him would’ve broken you. The depth of his clever mind, the fondness of his gaze, the shining sincerity of real laugh. It would be a shame to lose it all.

He blushes red as a rose when you tell him, suddenly upon a random morning, unprepared and for the first time in a long time, unwilling to raise his walls at your assault on his fragile, vulnerable heart.

One day he’ll tell you how his heart thunders in his chest like it might burst right out and leap into your own chest to meet yours, when you say his name so softly.

Kakavasha.

[pinkmoontaco]

Crossroads of Fate || Bangchan

Pairing: Idol Bangchan X Songwriter Y/n Genre: Romance/Angst Plot: BangChan reunites with his first love, now an award-winning songwriter, when Stray Kids is assigned one of her songs for their comeback. As they collaborate, old feelings resurface, but both struggle with the changes fame and time have brought to their lives. With conflicting schedules, unresolved past conflicts, and the pressures of being in the public eye, they must decide if their love story deserves a second chance. Author's Note: Please give it lots of love and support! Don’t forget to leave your thoughts and comments—they mean so much to me and help me improve. Your feedback and encouragement keep me motivated to keep writing. Thank you for being patient and sticking with me. Love you guys. And also feel free to make any request for any other members or other groups

The studio was quiet, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning and the soft glow of the soundboard. Bang Chan leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming against the desk as he studied the empty monitor. Deadlines loomed like storm clouds, but his mind was elsewhere. The announcement of their next comeback track had sent waves of excitement through the team, but for Chan, it carried an unexpected weight.

It wasn’t just any song.

The songwriter’s name had been highlighted in bold letters on the file his manager handed him a week ago. Y/N. A name he hadn’t spoken aloud in years, but one that lingered in his memory like a melody he couldn’t forget.

“Hyung?” Han’s voice broke through Chan’s thoughts as he peeked into the room. “We’re heading out for dinner. You coming?”

Chan shook his head. “Not tonight. I have to prep for tomorrow.”

Han shrugged but didn’t push further. “Don’t overwork yourself,” he said before disappearing down the hallway.

Chan sighed, glancing at the clock. Tomorrow’s meeting wasn’t just about the song—it was a reunion with the person who had written it. A person he hadn’t seen since she’d walked out of his life all those years ago.

The next day, the conference room buzzed with energy. The entire Stray Kids lineup sat around the long table, chatting excitedly about the new track. Chan, however, remained quieter than usual, fiddling with a pen in his hand.

The door opened, and all eyes turned toward the figure stepping inside.

Y/N.

She looked different, yet the same. Her posture was confident, her expression calm, but Chan caught the faint flicker of hesitation in her gaze. She scanned the room, pausing briefly when her eyes met his. It was just a second—long enough to stir the ache in his chest that he thought he’d buried.

“Thank you all for having me,” she said, her voice steady but tinged with nervous energy. “I’ve been a fan of your work, and I’m excited to collaborate on this project.”

The members greeted her warmly, breaking the ice with their usual lighthearted banter. Chan stayed silent, his mind racing with everything he wanted to say but couldn’t.

As the meeting progressed, Y/N explained the inspiration behind the song. Her words were professional, but to Chan, every lyric she described felt like a reflection of their shared past. He wondered if the others noticed or if he was the only one reading between the lines.

When the meeting ended, the members filed out, leaving Chan and Y/N alone in the room.

“You’ve come a long way,” she said, breaking the silence.

“So have you,” he replied, his voice softer than he intended.

For a moment, they stood there, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them.

“About the song—” Chan started, but she cut him off.

“Let’s keep it professional,” Y/N said quickly, her tone firm but not unkind. “It’s better that way.”

Chan nodded, though her words stung. “Right. Professional.”

As she walked out, leaving him alone with his thoughts, Chan couldn’t help but wonder if working together would be their chance to reconcile or if it would only deepen the distance between them.

Chan lingered in the now-empty conference room, staring at the notes Y/N had left on the whiteboard. The melody she'd described echoed in his mind. It was haunting yet beautiful—so distinctly her. His fingers itched to bring it to life, but a heavier thought weighed him down.

“Let’s keep it professional.”

Her words replayed in his mind like a broken record. After all these years, was that really all they could be?

The door creaked open, breaking his spiral of thoughts. Seungmin poked his head in, his usual deadpan expression in place.

“Hyung, we’re all in the practice room. Y/N noona said she’d stop by after she checks something with the staff,” he said casually.

“Noona, huh?” Chan muttered, half-smiling.

“Isn’t she older than you? Isn’t that what we’re supposed to call her?” Seungmin said with a shrug. “She’s cool, though. Don’t be weird about it.”

Chan chuckled despite himself. “I’m not being weird.”

“You’re always weird.”

“Get out of here before I make you practice alone,” Chan shot back, though his tone was playful. Seungmin left with a smirk, and Chan finally pushed himself out of his chair, grabbing his notebook and heading for the practice room.

Y/N stood just outside the room, scrolling through her phone as Chan approached. She looked up when she sensed his presence.

“Heading to practice?” she asked, keeping her tone light.

“Yeah. You’re coming in, right?” he replied, holding the door open for her.

She hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. “Just to observe. I don’t want to interrupt.”

Inside, the members were in their usual chaotic state. Minho was leaning against the mirrors, chatting with Jeongin, while Han and Hyunjin playfully fought over whose choreography idea was better. The moment Y/N stepped in, the room seemed to shift.

“Noona!” Han called out cheerfully, waving her over. “You’re here! Come judge our moves.”

Hyunjin grinned, brushing his hair back dramatically. “I already know noona’s going to pick me. I’m the main dancer after all.”

“Don’t embarrass yourselves,” Minho teased, smirking as he leaned against the mirror. “Noona just got here.”

Y/N blinked, slightly taken aback by their easy familiarity, but a small smile tugged at her lips. “You guys are a lively bunch.”

“Always,” Jeongin said with a bright smile. “Noona, don’t listen to Hyunjin. He’s all talk.”

Chan leaned against the doorway, watching the interaction unfold. It was strange seeing Y/N in this setting, surrounded by his members and fitting in so seamlessly. He’d always imagined how she might’ve interacted with them if things had been different.

“Alright, let’s get to it,” Chan finally said, clapping his hands to gather their attention. “We’ve got a lot to do.”

As practice began, Y/N took a seat in the corner, observing with quiet focus. She occasionally scribbled notes into her notebook, but her gaze often drifted toward Chan.

He was in his element, leading the group with his usual mix of authority and warmth. His movements were sharp, his voice steady as he gave instructions. It reminded her of the boy she’d known back then—the one who dreamed of standing on stages but always made time to support her dreams, too.

“Noona, what do you think?” Hyunjin called out after a particularly intricate run-through of the choreography.

Y/N glanced up, realizing all eyes were on her. She cleared her throat. “It’s good. Clean, but…”

“But?” Han pressed, grinning.

“I think you can hit the beats a bit sharper here,” she said, gesturing to a specific section. “It’ll match the vibe of the song better.”

The group murmured their agreement, nodding thoughtfully.

“See, I told you she’s good,” Jeongin whispered to Hyunjin, who rolled his eyes.

Chan approached her during a break, holding out a water bottle. “They’re taking to you well,” he said.

She accepted the bottle with a small smile. “They’re a good group. Talented, too. You’ve done well with them.”

“They’re the ones who make it easy,” he replied, his gaze lingering on her. “You… You’ve done well for yourself, too. Your name’s everywhere these days.”

She laughed softly, a sound that tugged at his heart. “It’s different from what I thought I’d be doing, but I’ve made my peace with it.”

“Is that what you call it? Peace?”

Y/N’s smile faltered. She glanced away, pretending to focus on the members as they joked with one another. “It’s what I’ve chosen.”

Before Chan could respond, Han called out, “Hyung! Stop hogging noona and get back here. We need your opinion.”

Chan sighed but gave her a small nod. “We’re not done talking,” he said quietly before walking away.

Y/N watched him go, her chest tightening. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to have that conversation—if she could face the memories she’d locked away for so long.

But one thing was clear: being around Bang Chan again was stirring feelings she thought she’d buried for good.

The room was alive with laughter as the members continued to practice, but Bang Chan’s focus was elsewhere. He watched Y/N from across the room, noting the way her gaze lingered on the group with a mix of pride and nostalgia. It was a look he recognized—one she’d often worn back when their lives were simpler, before the weight of their choices had pulled them apart.

Her voice was still ringing in his ears: “It’s what I’ve chosen.”

The words triggered something in him, unlocking a door he hadn’t dared open in years.

Flashback: The Trainee Days

“Chan, you’re gonna blow the speakers if you keep cranking it up like that!” Y/N’s voice broke through the pounding bass, laughter lacing her words. She leaned against the doorway of the small practice room, her arms crossed, her expression caught somewhere between exasperation and amusement.

“Sorry, noona,” Chan said sheepishly, reaching for the volume knob. “I was just trying to get the bass to match the melody.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, stepping inside with the casual ease of someone who practically lived there. Her hoodie was too big, her hair tied in a messy bun, but to Chan, she looked perfect.

“You’re such a perfectionist,” she teased, plopping down beside him on the floor. “Not everything has to be perfect, you know. Sometimes it’s the flaws that make it special.”

“Easy for you to say,” he replied, grinning. “Your vocals are always flawless. Meanwhile, I’m over here trying to make sure my beats don’t sound like garbage.”

She laughed, nudging him playfully. “You’re too hard on yourself, Chan. You’re better than you think.”

Her words always had a way of grounding him, of making him believe in himself even when self-doubt threatened to take over. It was one of the many reasons he’d fallen for her.

They sat in silence for a moment, the only sound coming from the faint hum of the equipment. Then, she broke it.

“Do you ever think about what it’ll be like? When we debut?”

“All the time,” Chan admitted. “But it’s scary, too. What if it doesn’t work out? What if we don’t make it?”

“You will,” she said firmly. “I know you will. You’re too talented, too driven not to.”

He turned to look at her, the sincerity in her eyes almost overwhelming. “What about you?” he asked quietly.

She hesitated, her gaze dropping to the floor. “I don’t know,” she said after a long pause. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m cut out for this. The competition, the pressure… it’s a lot.”

“You’re cut out for it,” he said, his voice steady. “You’ve got everything it takes, noona. Don’t let anyone make you doubt that.”

The corner of her mouth lifted in a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Chan.”

They didn’t need to say more. The silence that followed was comfortable, the kind that only came with understanding and trust.

But looking back, Chan would always remember that moment—the moment he realized how much she meant to him, and how terrified he was of losing her.

Back to the Present

“Hyung, you good?” Felix’s voice jolted Chan back to the present.

“Huh?” He blinked, realizing he’d been staring into space.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Felix said with a concerned smile. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Chan said quickly, shaking his head as if to clear it. “Just… thinking.”

“About noona?” Han teased, leaning on Felix’s shoulder with a mischievous grin. “You’ve been stealing glances at her all day.”

Chan shot him a warning look, but it was too late. The rest of the members had caught on, and the teasing began in earnest.

“Hyung’s got history with noona, doesn’t he?” Hyunjin smirked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Tell us, tell us!” Jeongin chimed in, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Chan groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Can we focus on practice, please?”

The members laughed but let it go, and Chan stole another glance at Y/N. She was focused on her notebook, oblivious to the chaos around her.

He wondered if she remembered that night in the practice room as vividly as he did. Or if, for her, it was just another forgotten chapter in a story she’d already moved on from.

The members were busy working on a choreography run-through, giving Bang Chan a moment to slip out of the practice room unnoticed. His chest felt tight, his emotions tangled as his thoughts drifted further into the past. He leaned against the hallway wall, staring at the ceiling as memories flooded his mind.

Flashback: The Night She Left

It was late—past midnight, though neither of them seemed to care. The JYP building was silent except for the faint creak of the floors and the hum of fluorescent lights. Chan had texted Y/N to meet him in the practice room, and now he stood there, pacing, waiting for her to arrive.

When the door finally opened, she stepped in, her usual bright expression subdued. The oversized hoodie she wore dwarfed her frame, and her hair was tucked under a cap as if she were trying to disappear.

“Hey,” she said softly, closing the door behind her.

“Hey,” Chan replied, though his voice was tinged with unease. He stopped pacing, turning to face her. “What’s going on? You sounded… weird in your text.”

Y/N hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her hoodie. “I need to talk to you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Chan’s stomach churned. He had known her long enough to recognize the look in her eyes—the way her walls were slowly going up, shutting him out.

“Okay,” he said cautiously. “Talk to me.”

She took a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling as if bracing herself for impact. “I’m leaving, Chan.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. “Leaving? What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m quitting the trainee program,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “I’m not debuting. I can’t do this anymore.”

Chan stared at her, disbelief written all over his face. “What are you talking about? You’re one of the best trainees here! Everyone knows that. Why would you—”

“It doesn’t matter how good I am,” she interrupted, her tone sharp but pained. “This life… it’s not for me, Chan. The endless hours, the pressure, the constant comparisons… I can’t keep up. I thought I could, but I was wrong.”

“But you’ve worked so hard,” he argued, his voice rising in desperation. “You’ve been here longer than almost anyone! You’ve sacrificed so much—why give up now?”

Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away, refusing to let them fall. “Because I’m tired, Chan. Tired of feeling like I’m never enough. Tired of pretending I’m okay when I’m not.”

Chan took a step closer, his heart racing. “You are enough, Y/N. You’ve always been enough. If you’re struggling, we can figure it out together. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Her gaze softened at his words, but she shook her head. “You don’t get it. You’re different, Chan. You thrive here. This is where you’re meant to be. But me? I feel like I’m suffocating.”

He clenched his fists, his frustration bubbling over. “So that’s it? You’re just… walking away? From everything? From me?”

Her breath hitched, and for the first time, her composure cracked. “Don’t make this harder than it already is,” she pleaded. “This isn’t about you. It’s about me. I need to find a life where I can breathe again.”

Chan felt a lump rise in his throat, but he swallowed it down. “When?” he asked quietly.

“Tomorrow,” she admitted, her voice barely audible.

“Tomorrow?” His voice broke. “You weren’t even going to tell me until now?”

“I didn’t know how,” she said, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I knew you’d try to stop me, and I couldn’t face that. I couldn’t face you.”

Chan closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing. When he opened them again, they were filled with pain. “Do you know how much I care about you?” he asked, his voice raw. “Do you even realize what you’re walking away from?”

Her lip quivered, but she stood her ground. “I care about you too, Chan. More than you know. But that’s why I have to leave. If I stay, I’ll only drag you down with me.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

“Goodbye, Chan,” she said finally, her voice breaking.

And just like that, she walked out of the room, leaving him standing there, his heart shattered into pieces.

Back to the Present

Chan let out a shaky breath, rubbing his hands over his face. Even after all these years, the memory of that night still stung like an open wound. He had tried to move on, to bury the pain and focus on his dreams. But seeing Y/N again had brought everything rushing back.

He pushed off the wall, forcing himself to return to the practice room. When he walked in, the members were laughing about something Y/N had said. She looked up as he entered, her smile fading slightly when their eyes met.

Chan forced a small smile, but inside, he felt like he was standing at a crossroads again.

This time, he wasn’t sure if he’d survive losing her twice.

Y/N sat in the corner of the practice room, her notebook balanced on her lap. The sounds of Stray Kids rehearsing filled the space around her—an intricate mix of synchronized movements and playful banter that reminded her why she had loved this world once.

Her pen hovered above the page, but her thoughts were far from the notes she was supposed to be taking. Every time her gaze flickered to Bang Chan, her chest tightened with a mix of emotions she couldn’t name.

How does he do it? she wondered. How does he still look so steady, so sure of himself, after all these years?

She didn’t regret leaving—not exactly. But being here, in the same room as him, made her question everything she’d told herself since that night.

Flashback: After She Left

The day she walked away from the trainee program, Y/N felt like a ghost. She had packed her things in silence, avoiding the eyes of the friends she’d made and the staff who had believed in her. She couldn’t bear their questions, their pity, or the disappointment that would surely follow.

When she stepped outside the JYP building for what she knew would be the last time, the air felt colder, sharper. Her phone buzzed in her pocket—Chan’s name lighting up the screen.

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

Instead, she turned off her phone and slipped it into her bag, hoping the silence would numb the ache in her chest.

For weeks, she avoided looking at anything related to JYP, idol groups, or the industry altogether. She threw herself into other pursuits, trying to fill the void that music had left behind. But no matter how hard she tried, the memories lingered.

She missed the late-night practices, the camaraderie, the way her heart would race when she stepped into a recording booth. And more than anything, she missed him.

I did the right thing, she told herself every time the doubts crept in. I wasn’t strong enough for that life.

But even as the years passed and her career as a songwriter began to flourish, the guilt never fully disappeared.

Back to the Present

“Y/N noona, what do you think?” Han’s cheerful voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

She blinked, realizing that the group had finished their run-through and were now looking at her expectantly.

“It’s good,” she said quickly, sitting up straighter. “Really good. But I think you could emphasize the transitions more—make them feel smoother so they match the flow of the song.”

The members nodded thoughtfully, murmuring to each other about adjustments they could make.

“Good catch, noona,” Hyunjin said with a grin. “You’ve got a sharp eye.”

Y/N smiled faintly, her heart warming at their easy acceptance of her. It felt strange, being called “noona” by a group of idols who had risen to international stardom. She admired their talent, their passion, and the bond they clearly shared.

But her gaze kept drifting back to Chan.

He was quieter than she remembered, his playful energy tempered by a calm maturity that suited him. Yet beneath his composure, she could sense the tension—like he was holding back words he didn’t know how to say.

During a break, she slipped out of the practice room, needing a moment to herself. The hallway was empty, and she leaned against the wall, closing her eyes as she took a deep breath.

Her mind wandered back to their conversation earlier:

“You’ve come a long way.”

“So have you.”

The way he’d looked at her—like he was trying to piece together who she was now—made her chest ache. She had wanted to tell him everything: how much she had missed him, how often she’d thought about him, and how hard it had been to walk away.

But she couldn’t. Not now.

The sound of footsteps brought her back to the present. She opened her eyes to find Chan standing a few feet away, his expression unreadable.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice soft.

“I’m fine,” she replied quickly, though the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her.

He hesitated, then took a step closer. “You don’t have to do that, you know.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend everything’s fine when it’s not,” he said, his gaze locking onto hers. “I know you, Y/N. Better than you think.”

Her breath caught, and for a moment, all the walls she’d built around herself felt like they might crumble.

“Chan…” she started, her voice faltering.

He waited, his patience unwavering. But before she could say more, the sound of someone calling his name echoed down the hallway.

“Hyung, we need you!”

Chan sighed, glancing over his shoulder. “I’ll be right there!” he called back.

When he turned back to her, his expression softened. “This isn’t over,” he said quietly.

And then he was gone, leaving Y/N alone with the weight of everything she couldn’t bring herself to say.

Y/N stood frozen in the hallway long after Chan had gone. His words echoed in her mind: “This isn’t over.”

She wanted to believe him. Part of her even wanted to let herself hope that they could go back to the way things were before she’d walked away. But the years had changed them both, and she wasn’t sure if they were still the same people who had sat in that small practice room late at night, sharing their dreams and fears.

She sighed, shaking her head as if to clear it. Focus on work, Y/N. That’s why you’re here.

Squaring her shoulders, she headed back to the practice room. When she entered, the members were scattered across the floor, catching their breath after another run-through.

“Noona, you’re back!” Jeongin called out, grinning.

“Of course,” she replied, forcing a smile. “You didn’t think I’d leave without finishing, did you?”

“Never,” Han teased. “But you did miss Chan hyung trying to demonstrate a move and almost falling flat on his face.”

The room erupted in laughter, and Y/N’s gaze instinctively found Chan. He was sitting on the floor, a water bottle in hand, his cheeks slightly flushed.

“Don’t listen to them,” he said, looking at her with a lopsided smile. “I was fine.”

Y/N arched a brow, her playful side slipping through despite herself. “You sure? Should I call a medic?”

The members laughed even harder, and Chan shook his head, a small chuckle escaping him. “No need, noona. I’ll survive.”

For a moment, the tension between them seemed to ease, replaced by a warmth that felt almost familiar.

Practice wrapped up just as the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Y/N gathered her things, preparing to leave, when a voice stopped her.

“Y/N.”

She turned to see Chan standing by the doorway, his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie. The others had already left, leaving them alone in the room.

“Walk with me?” he asked, his tone careful, almost hesitant.

Y/N hesitated, her instinct to say no warring with the part of her that longed to talk to him. Finally, she nodded. “Okay.”

They walked in silence at first, the sound of their footsteps echoing softly in the empty hallway. The building was quiet now, a stark contrast to the lively energy of earlier.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” Chan began, breaking the silence.

Y/N glanced at him, her brow furrowing. “What I said?”

“About how you’ve changed,” he clarified. “How this isn’t your world anymore.”

She swallowed hard, her gaze dropping to the floor. “It’s true. I’ve been out of it for so long… I don’t think I’d even know how to fit back in.”

“You don’t have to fit back in,” he said gently. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t belong here.”

Y/N stopped walking, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. “Chan, I left because I couldn’t handle it. I wasn’t strong enough. You don’t understand—”

“I do understand,” he interrupted, his voice firm but not unkind. “Do you think I haven’t felt that way? That I haven’t questioned if I’m good enough or strong enough to keep going?”

She looked at him, startled by the raw vulnerability in his expression.

“We all have those moments,” he continued. “But you didn’t leave because you were weak, Y/N. You left because you were brave enough to choose what you needed, even if it hurt.”

His words hit her harder than she expected, and she had to blink back the tears threatening to spill over.

“I missed you,” she admitted softly, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Chan’s eyes softened, and he took a step closer. “I missed you too.”

The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken emotions. Y/N wanted to say so much—to explain, to apologize, to tell him how often she’d thought about him. But the words wouldn’t come.

“Do you regret it?” Chan asked suddenly.

She looked at him, her breath catching. “Regret what?”

“Leaving,” he said quietly.

She hesitated, the answer swirling in her mind. “Sometimes,” she admitted. “But if I hadn’t left, I wouldn’t be who I am now. And I wouldn’t be standing here, talking to you.”

Chan nodded slowly, his gaze searching hers. “Maybe it was meant to happen this way,” he said. “Maybe we needed time to grow on our own before we could find each other again.”

Y/N’s heart ached at his words, but this time, it wasn’t a painful ache—it was something softer, something that felt like hope.

“Maybe,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

They stood there for a moment longer, the space between them charged with possibilities. And for the first time in years, Y/N allowed herself to believe that second chances might be worth taking.

The walk back to the dorms was quieter, yet the silence felt different now—less like avoidance and more like understanding. Bang Chan walked beside Y/N, their steps falling into an unspoken rhythm. Neither of them said much, but the air between them felt heavier with emotions they weren’t ready to voice.

As they reached the building’s entrance, Chan hesitated, his hand hovering near the door handle. “Do you want to come in? The others are still up, probably goofing around.”

Y/N gave a soft laugh. “I don’t know if I have the energy to deal with their endless teasing tonight.”

“They’ve already started calling you ‘noona’ like it’s a badge of honor,” Chan said, smiling. “You’ll never escape it now.”

Her lips curved into a small smile. “It’s kind of nice, though,” she admitted. “They remind me of... well, of us back then.”

Chan’s smile faltered slightly, the mention of the past tugging at something deep within him. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “They’ve got that same fire we used to have. But don’t sell yourself short—you still have it too.”

Y/N shook her head, looking away. “I don’t know about that.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but the sound of laughter from inside the dorm interrupted him. The door swung open, revealing Han and Seungmin, who froze when they saw them standing there.

“Hyung! Noona!” Han exclaimed, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “What’s this? A secret meeting?”

“Late-night date, maybe?” Seungmin chimed in, his deadpan delivery making it even funnier.

“Knock it off,” Chan said, rolling his eyes but unable to hide the faint blush creeping up his neck.

Y/N laughed, the warmth in her chest pushing away the heaviness that had been sitting there all day. “If this is how you treat all your guests, I’m surprised anyone visits.”

“Only the special ones, noona,” Han quipped, winking at her.

“Go inside,” Chan ordered, shooing them back into the dorm.

As they retreated, still chuckling, Chan turned back to Y/N. “You sure you don’t want to come in? They’d love having you around.”

Y/N hesitated. A part of her wanted to join them, to let herself be swept up in their youthful energy and forget about everything else. But another part of her—the part that still carried the weight of the past—wasn’t sure if she was ready.

“Not tonight,” she said finally, her tone soft. “But... maybe another time.”

Chan nodded, his expression understanding. “Take your time,” he said. “We’ll be here.”

Later That Night

Y/N sat in her small apartment, staring at the blank notebook in front of her. The melody she’d been working on earlier was still stuck in her head, but the words wouldn’t come.

Her mind kept drifting back to Chan—his voice, his smile, the way he’d looked at her like he was still trying to understand why she’d left.

She sighed, setting the notebook aside. The memories were too loud tonight, refusing to be ignored.

Flashback: The First Goodbye

The airport was crowded, the hum of activity a stark contrast to the stillness Y/N felt inside. Her suitcase sat at her feet, and her plane ticket was clutched tightly in her hand.

She’d made the decision to leave Korea and start fresh abroad, hoping that distance would help her figure out who she was without the weight of the trainee life she’d abandoned.

Chan had shown up unannounced, his face flushed from running through the terminal.

“You weren’t going to tell me you were leaving the country?” he’d asked, his voice trembling with disbelief.

“I thought it would be easier this way,” she’d said, unable to meet his eyes.

“Easier for who?” he’d demanded, his hurt bleeding into anger. “For you? Because it sure as hell isn’t easier for me!”

Y/N had felt the tears welling up, but she’d forced herself to stay calm. “Chan, I can’t stay here. Every corner of this city feels like a reminder of everything I failed at.”

“You didn’t fail,” he’d said, his voice softening. “You just… chose a different path.”

She’d shaken her head, unwilling to let him comfort her. “I need this, Chan. I need to figure out who I am without this life. Without…”

She couldn’t finish the sentence, but he understood.

“Without me,” he’d said quietly, the pain in his voice cutting through her like a knife.

She’d wanted to tell him he was wrong, that he was the only part of her life she’d ever been sure of. But she didn’t. Instead, she’d stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him in a hug that felt more like a goodbye than she’d intended.

“I’m sorry,” she’d whispered.

When she’d pulled back, his eyes were red, but he didn’t say anything else. He’d just watched as she picked up her suitcase and walked away.

Back to the Present

Y/N wiped at her eyes, surprised to find tears there. The memory of that day still haunted her, and being around Chan again had only brought it all back.

But as painful as it was, it also made her realize something: she wasn’t as far away from that world as she thought.

And maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t too late to find her place in it again.

The next day, Y/N found herself sitting in the studio, the same studio where Chan had told her Stray Kids often worked on their music. She had arrived early, telling herself it was to focus on finishing the lyrics for their comeback song.

But as she stared at the screen of her laptop, the blinking cursor mocking her inability to write, she realized the real reason she was here: she wanted to see him again.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, the melody Chan had worked on playing softly in the background. She knew the song needed something—something raw and honest—but the words still wouldn’t come.

“You’re early.”

The familiar voice startled her, and she turned to see Chan leaning in the doorway, a cup of coffee in his hand.

“Could say the same about you,” she replied, offering a small smile.

He stepped inside, setting the cup on the table next to her. “This is for you. Thought you might need it.”

“Thanks,” she said, wrapping her hands around the warm cup.

He pulled out a chair and sat across from her, his gaze flickering to the screen. “Stuck?”

“Something like that,” she admitted, sighing. “I have the melody in my head, but the lyrics… they just don’t feel right.”

Chan nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Sometimes the words come when you stop trying so hard. What are you writing about?”

Y/N hesitated, her fingers brushing against the keyboard. “The feeling of losing something you can’t get back,” she said softly.

He didn’t respond right away, but when she looked up, his eyes were locked on hers. “Is that how you feel?”

The question hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning.

“Sometimes,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Chan leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped in front of him. “You know, I used to think that too. That once something was gone, it was gone for good.”

“And now?”

“Now I think… maybe some things can come back,” he said, his gaze never wavering. “If both people are willing to try.”

Y/N’s breath caught, the vulnerability in his voice making her heart ache. “Chan, I—”

Before she could finish, the door opened, and Han poked his head inside.

“Hyung! Noona!” he said, his grin wide. “Are we interrupting something?”

Y/N’s face flushed, and she quickly shook her head. “No, just working.”

“Sure you are,” Han teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Anyway, we’re starting rehearsal in ten minutes. Don’t be late!”

With that, he disappeared, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Chan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Han has the worst timing.”

Y/N chuckled softly, the tension easing slightly. “He’s just being Han.”

As Chan stood, he glanced at her again. “Think about what I said,” he murmured. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. When you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

Y/N sat on her bed that night, her notebook open in her lap. Chan’s words played over and over in her mind, his quiet determination resonating with something deep inside her.

She picked up her pen, letting the melody guide her, and began to write. The words flowed more easily now, like they’d been waiting for her to let go of her fear.

Y/N arrived at the studio early again, her notebook clutched tightly in her hands. She found Chan already there, headphones on as he worked on the track.

When he noticed her, he smiled and pulled the headphones off. “Morning.”

“Morning,” she replied, her heart pounding in her chest.

“I have something to show you,” she said, holding out the notebook.

Chan took it, his brows furrowing as he scanned the lyrics. As he read, his expression softened, and when he looked up at her, there was a glimmer of something she couldn’t quite name in his eyes.

“This…” he began, his voice thick with emotion. “This is perfect.”

Y/N felt a weight lift off her chest, her lips curving into a tentative smile. “You think so?”

“I know so,” he said firmly. “It’s honest, Y/N. It’s real. Just like you.”

The warmth in his voice sent a shiver down her spine, and for the first time in a long time, she felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be.

As they worked together on the song, their laughter filled the room, blending seamlessly with the music. And in that moment, Y/N realized something: maybe second chances weren’t about starting over. Maybe they were about picking up where you left off and finding the courage to keep going.

As the days passed, Y/N and Chan found themselves spending more time together, not just in the studio but outside of it too. Their shared moments stretched from late-night brainstorming sessions to quiet coffee breaks, each encounter chipping away at the wall that had built up between them over the years.

The song they were working on was slowly coming together, its lyrics raw and emotional. Every note and word seemed to carry a piece of their unspoken feelings, weaving a story of loss and rediscovery.

One Late Night at the Studio

The clock read 2:14 AM, but neither of them seemed to notice. Chan sat at the keyboard, his fingers lightly pressing the keys, playing the melody on loop as Y/N leaned over a notepad, scribbling and crossing out lines.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Chan said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Y/N glanced up, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“You rewrite every line five times before you even give it a chance to breathe,” he said, turning to face her. “Sometimes, the first thought is the most honest.”

She leaned back in her chair, tapping her pen against the notepad. “I guess I’m scared it won’t be good enough.”

“For who?”

Y/N hesitated. “For you. For the members. For everyone who listens to it.”

Chan’s expression softened, and he reached out, his hand resting lightly on hers. “Y/N, it’s already good enough. You’re good enough.”

The sincerity in his voice made her chest tighten, and she looked down at their hands, her heart pounding. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

He smiled faintly. “Not always. But when it comes to you, I try.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, the room felt smaller, the air between them charged. She wanted to say something—anything—but the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, she gave his hand a gentle squeeze before pulling away. “We should get back to work,” she said softly, breaking the moment.

Chan nodded, but the way he looked at her told her he’d felt it too.

The Next Day

After practice, Chan approached her with a sly smile. “Do you have plans tonight?”

“Not really. Why?”

“Come with me,” he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I have something to show you.”

Curious, Y/N agreed, and a few hours later, they found themselves walking along a quiet path near the Han River. The city lights reflected on the water, casting a soft glow over everything.

“This used to be my escape,” Chan said, gesturing to the river. “Whenever things got too overwhelming, I’d come here to clear my head.”

Y/N smiled, her arms wrapped around herself against the cool breeze. “It’s beautiful.”

They sat on a bench overlooking the water, the sounds of the city distant and muted. For a while, neither of them spoke, content to simply be in each other’s presence.

“Do you ever think about the past?” Y/N asked suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“All the time,” Chan admitted, his gaze fixed on the water. “Especially the parts with you.”

Her heart ached at his honesty. “I never stopped thinking about you, Chan. Even when I was halfway across the world, you were always in the back of my mind.”

He turned to her, his eyes searching hers. “Then why did you stay away?”

“I was scared,” she said, her voice trembling. “Scared that coming back would make everything worse. Scared that I wouldn’t know how to face you.”

“You didn’t have to face it alone,” he said gently. “You still don’t.”

Y/N looked at him, her resolve crumbling under the weight of his words. “Chan, I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You won’t,” he said, his hand finding hers once more. “Not if we’re both willing to fight for this.”

Tears filled her eyes, but she nodded, a small smile breaking through. “Okay.”

“Okay?” he echoed, a hopeful smile spreading across his face.

“Okay,” she repeated, her voice stronger this time.

They sat there for hours, talking about everything and nothing, their laughter mixing with the sound of the river. And for the first time in years, Y/N felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be—beside him.

The following days were filled with rehearsals, studio sessions, and fan events, but the unspoken connection between Y/N and Chan remained a quiet, constant presence. Their bond deepened with every passing moment, but they kept it to themselves, not ready to make their feelings public—at least, not yet.

The members of Stray Kids, however, weren’t blind. They could see the way Chan’s eyes softened whenever Y/N entered the room, the way she would glance at him from across the studio with that quiet warmth. It didn’t take long for them to start noticing the subtle changes.

A Few Days Later, During Rehearsal

The practice room was buzzing with energy as the Stray Kids members ran through choreography for their upcoming comeback. Y/N was there as usual, helping with the songwriting and offering her input where needed. She sat off to the side, her legs crossed, her notebook in her lap.

But it didn’t take long before Chan noticed her gaze shifting toward him every few seconds. He caught her eyes once, offering a smile. It was simple but full of understanding, and for a split second, it felt like the world faded away around them.

"Chan, focus!" Hyunjin’s voice broke through the moment, pulling him back to the present.

"Yeah, no zoning out now," Felix added, grinning mischievously.

Chan cleared his throat, his face turning slightly pink as he forced himself to focus on the choreography. But his thoughts kept drifting back to Y/N, and despite his best efforts to keep it cool, the members were starting to catch on.

After a long rehearsal, the members of Stray Kids were gathered in the living room of their dorm, winding down from the intense practice. Y/N had joined them, laughing along with their teasing and sharing stories about her experiences with music.

Chan, as usual, found himself seated beside her. Their shoulders brushed now and then, and each time it sent a small shock through him, but he didn’t pull away. It felt comfortable, natural even.

“Alright, we’re getting to the good part!” Changbin said, holding up his phone. “Let’s see how long it takes for you two to admit it already.”

Y/N and Chan both blinked, surprised by the sudden change in topic. “What?” Y/N asked, her voice tinged with confusion.

“You know,” Hyunjin smirked, “the whole ‘will-they-won’t-they’ thing. We can tell there’s something going on between you two. The vibe is very obvious.”

Chan’s face flushed bright red. “Hyunjin—no.”

“No, no, don’t hide it!” Han laughed, pointing between Y/N and Chan. “It’s so clear! You two are practically glued to each other. Everyone’s been noticing it, even the fans.”

Y/N’s heart raced. “There’s nothing going on,” she tried to say, but the words felt weak even to her own ears.

“Sure, noona,” Felix teased, grinning. “You’re just here for the music, right?”

The rest of the members burst into laughter, clearly enjoying the teasing. Y/N looked at Chan, her heart pounding in her chest. He met her gaze, a sheepish smile on his lips.

“I—uh—guess we’re not as subtle as we thought,” Chan muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Look, we’re not saying anything’s happening right now,” Seungmin chimed in, his tone playful. “But it’s obvious something’s there. We’re not blind.”

Y/N could feel her face burning, and she shifted uncomfortably. “We’re just… working together on the song,” she said quickly, hoping the explanation would stick.

But instead of pushing further, the members nodded, their teasing settling down. “If you two are happy, we’re happy,” Changbin added with a grin. “Just don’t leave us in the dark, okay?”

Y/N and Chan exchanged a glance. There was no denying that something was shifting between them, but neither of them was ready to put a label on it yet. It wasn’t about making an announcement; it was about feeling the moment together, quietly, without the pressure of others’ expectations.

Later That Evening

After the playful teasing from the members, Y/N and Chan found themselves alone in the kitchen, making tea. It was quiet now, just the two of them and the soft hum of the kitchen lights.

“You okay?” Chan asked, glancing at her as he poured water into the kettle.

“Yeah, just… a little embarrassed,” she admitted with a laugh. “I wasn’t expecting them to be so direct about it.”

Chan chuckled. “They’re always like that. But they mean well.”

“I know,” she said, stirring her tea absentmindedly. “It’s just… I’m not used to this. Not used to being the center of attention like that.”

Chan leaned against the counter, his eyes softening as he watched her. “I get it. It’s a lot, but we don’t have to rush anything. We can take our time.”

“Yeah,” Y/N agreed, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. “We’re okay.”

They stood in the silence for a few moments before Chan spoke again, his voice quieter now. “I mean it, though. Whenever you’re ready, we’ll figure it out.”

Y/N met his eyes, her heart swelling at his words. “I’m glad we’re doing this. Together.”

Chan smiled, his gaze full of sincerity. “Me too.”

The days passed in a blur, and every moment Y/N spent with Chan only made her more aware of how deeply she had fallen for him. It wasn’t just the way he looked at her with such kindness, nor was it the gentle way he treated her as if she were the most precious thing in the room. It was everything—the way he understood her without words, the way he could make her laugh even on her worst days, and the way their silences were never uncomfortable.

But despite the deep connection they shared, there was still a part of her that hesitated. The fear of crossing a line. The fear of disrupting the delicate balance they had found.

It was late one evening after practice, and Stray Kids had finished a grueling rehearsal. The members were scattered throughout the dorm, unwinding and preparing for the next day’s schedule. Y/N had stayed behind to finish a few last notes on the song they were collaborating on, the melody and lyrics now blending seamlessly into a perfect mix of their shared creativity.

Chan, however, had lingered. He stood outside the door of the practice room for a moment, watching her from the hallway. His heart pounded in his chest. He had been battling with his feelings for weeks now, unsure if Y/N felt the same way. Every time they shared a quiet moment, it felt like there was something more beneath the surface, but the uncertainty lingered.

He couldn’t stand it anymore.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open, stepping inside.

Y/N didn’t look up at first, her focus on the notebook in front of her, but the sound of the door closing gently made her glance up.

“Chan?”

He walked toward her, his gaze soft, yet determined. “Y/N,” he said, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “There’s something I need to say to you.”

Her heart skipped a beat, and she set the pen down, suddenly feeling nervous. “What’s wrong?”

Chan shook his head, his smile faint but real. “Nothing’s wrong. But I’ve been holding something in for too long, and I can’t keep doing that.”

Y/N’s chest tightened as he took a step closer, his presence so comforting yet electrifying. “What is it?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I—” Chan paused, his throat tight with nerves. He had never been one to shy away from his feelings, but this felt different. He knew the stakes were higher now. He could feel the tension between them, the unspoken understanding that they both felt something, but hadn’t yet acknowledged it.

“I think I’ve loved you for a long time,” Chan admitted, his eyes locked onto hers, his words raw and vulnerable.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. The words, so simple yet so powerful, sent her heart into overdrive. “Chan… I—”

But before she could say anything else, he reached out, cupping her face gently with both hands. His thumb brushed across her cheek, and in that moment, everything else in the world seemed to fade away. There was only the two of them, standing in the quiet of the room, the air thick with emotions they had both been too afraid to voice until now.

“I can’t hold back anymore, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice hushed but full of intent. “I want you. And I want to be with you, if you feel the same way.”

Her heart soared as she nodded, a soft smile curling at the corners of her lips. “I feel the same, Chan. I’ve always felt the same.”

Before she could say anything more, Chan leaned in slowly, his eyes flickering between hers and her lips. He paused, giving her a chance to pull away if she wanted to, but the moment stretched on, and she didn’t move. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, closing the distance between them.

Their lips met in a gentle, tentative kiss. It was soft at first, as if both of them were testing the waters, but the moment their lips touched, a spark ignited between them. The kiss deepened, and Y/N’s hands found their way to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under her fingertips. Chan’s arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss grew more urgent, more passionate.

Time seemed to stand still, the only sound the soft rush of their breaths and the quiet hum of the room around them. It was as though the entire world had paused, and for once, there was nothing but the two of them in that moment, finally free to be what they had both secretly wanted for so long.

When they finally broke apart, breathless and wide-eyed, Chan rested his forehead against hers, his hands still gently cradling her face.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’ve wanted that for so long.”

“I know,” she whispered back, her hands tracing the lines of his shirt, still feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips.

They stood there for a few moments, wrapped in the aftermath of the kiss, letting the reality of it settle. It was like the weight of the years they had spent apart had lifted, and in its place was the promise of something new, something they could both build together.

Finally, Chan pulled back slightly, his eyes sparkling with a mix of joy and disbelief. “I think we should make this official,” he said, his voice full of warmth. “I’m not letting you go this time, Y/N.”

She smiled up at him, her heart full. “I’m not going anywhere.”

After that night, everything changed between Y/N and Chan. What had once been subtle glances and fleeting touches now became an undeniable force that neither of them could ignore. It was as if the world had slowed down, leaving just the two of them caught in the newfound intensity of their connection.

The evening had settled in with a quiet calm, and Stray Kids had finished another long day of practice. Y/N had stayed behind for a while, working through some lyrics, but as the night deepened, she found herself looking out of the window, her thoughts wandering to the moment she and Chan had shared.

Without thinking, she made her way to the roof, craving some fresh air and solitude.

As she stepped onto the rooftop, the cool breeze brushed against her skin, and she took a deep breath, feeling the tension of the day slip away.

But her solitude didn’t last long. Moments later, the sound of footsteps approached, and Chan stepped into view, a smile playing on his lips.

“You were looking for me?” he asked, his voice soft yet teasing.

Y/N turned to him, her heart fluttering. “I just wanted some space to think.”

Chan walked toward her, the distance between them closing quickly. “I understand. Mind if I join you?”

Y/N smiled and stepped aside, allowing him to stand next to her. They stood in silence for a few moments, looking at the stars above them, the city lights twinkling below.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” Chan remarked, his voice almost a whisper as he turned to face her.

She nodded, her gaze meeting his. “Just thinking about everything that’s changed.”

“You don’t have to be so guarded with me, you know,” he said softly, stepping closer to her. “You can share anything.”

Without saying another word, he reached out, gently cupping her face, and before she could even react, he kissed her—slowly, softly, as if savoring the moment. The kiss was tender, almost like a question, a reassurance that they were both on the same page.

Y/N melted into him, her hands instinctively going to his chest, feeling the warmth of his body as she kissed him back, deepening the kiss. Their lips moved together in a rhythm they had somehow already known, their hearts racing in unison.

When they finally pulled away, Y/N was breathless, her heart pounding in her chest.

“That… that was...” she trailed off, unable to find the words.

“Perfect,” Chan finished for her, his smile wide and sincere. “I don’t want to let you go, Y/N.”

“I don’t want you to,” she whispered, her fingers lightly tracing the outline of his jaw.

Chan’s eyes softened, and he kissed her again, this time more urgently, as if the very act of being close to her was what he had been craving all this time. His hands slid down her back, pulling her closer, pressing her body against his. Y/N responded by wrapping her arms around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair.

The kiss deepened, each touch feeling more like a confession of everything they had been holding back. Y/N could feel the heat rising between them, the undeniable chemistry that had always been there, now unleashed.

When they pulled apart this time, their breathing was uneven, but their smiles never wavered.

“I want more of that,” Y/N whispered, her lips still tingling from the kiss.

“Then you’ll have it,” Chan promised, his voice low and filled with emotion.

As the night continued, Stray Kids and Y/N had moved back into the studio to work on the final touches for the track. The members were bustling around, preparing for the next stage of the project.

Chan and Y/N shared more than a few stolen moments during the session. Every so often, their hands brushed as they worked, the brief contact sending sparks through both of them. And each time, neither of them could resist the pull toward each other.

At one point, while the others were busy, Chan took Y/N’s hand and pulled her aside, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Hey, let’s take a break,” he suggested, his voice low.

Before she could say anything, he led her to a quiet corner of the studio, hidden away from the rest of the group.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he confessed, his breath warm against her ear as he leaned in.

Y/N shivered at his closeness, her heart racing once more. “I can’t stop thinking about you either.”

With those words, he kissed her again, this time with more intensity, his hands sliding down her sides as he pressed her against the wall. Her hands went to his chest, pushing him slightly away just enough to look at him.

“Chan… we’re—”

“We’re fine,” he interrupted gently, his lips brushing against her ear. “Just let it happen. Let me kiss you like I’ve wanted to for so long.”

Y/N could only nod before pulling him back toward her, their lips colliding in a passionate kiss. The kiss was messy and urgent, fueled by all the emotions they had kept bottled up for too long. Chan’s hands explored her back, pulling her closer as if he couldn’t get enough of her, and Y/N responded in kind, her hands threading through his hair as she tugged him even closer.

The kiss deepened, and she could feel her body reacting to his touch. Their shared heat, the taste of each other, was intoxicating, and she never wanted it to end.

Finally, when they broke apart, both were breathless, their faces flushed with the intensity of the kiss.

“I never want to stop,” Y/N whispered, her lips still tingling from his touch.

“Then don’t,” Chan whispered back, his voice full of quiet determination. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The days that followed were filled with moments of subtle tenderness. For Y/N and Chan, their quiet connection had blossomed into something undeniable. But the more they navigated their feelings for each other, the more the rest of Stray Kids began to notice.

The members had been teasing them here and there, but they were starting to notice the small, almost imperceptible shifts in their interactions. How Y/N and Chan would share private smiles, how they’d brush their hands together while working, and how they couldn’t seem to keep their eyes off each other. It wasn’t just obvious anymore—it was undeniable.

A Few Days Later

The members were lounging around in the dorm’s living room, casually chatting and watching TV. Y/N was sitting on the couch, her legs tucked underneath her as she scrolled through her phone. Chan was standing by the window, his back turned to everyone, but he kept sneaking glances at her—his gaze soft and full of affection.

Felix, ever the observant one, caught on first. He shot a glance at Hyunjin, who was sitting beside him, his curiosity piqued.

“Hyunjin, do you notice anything… different about Chan and Y/N?” Felix asked, his voice a little quieter than usual, so as not to attract attention.

Hyunjin turned to look at them, his eyes narrowing with interest. “What do you mean?”

Felix motioned subtly to the two of them. “They’ve been acting... weird lately. More than usual.”

Hyunjin leaned back, crossing his arms. “I’ve noticed. They keep exchanging these looks... and they’ve been so close. They’re not even hiding it anymore.”

“You think?” Felix whispered, eyes widening.

Changbin, who was sitting across from them, suddenly joined the conversation. “You guys are so slow.”

“What?” Hyunjin and Felix both asked, clearly puzzled.

“Their chemistry is so obvious that it’s painful to watch,” Changbin said, looking at them like they were oblivious. “They’re definitely together. It’s been clear for days.”

Felix’s eyes widened. “Wait, what? Are we talking about Y/N and Chan?”

Changbin nodded. “Are you guys blind? It’s been happening right in front of us.”

Meanwhile, Chan had been standing by the window, feeling the weight of his emotions pressing down on him. He knew the members were starting to figure it out, but he hadn’t yet decided how he was going to approach it. He wasn’t sure whether he was ready for the conversations that would follow—especially with Y/N being part of their world now.

Y/N glanced up at him from her phone, catching his thoughtful expression. She smiled gently, then stood up and walked over to him, her steps light. Without a word, she reached out and gently grabbed his hand, squeezing it.

“Everything okay?” she asked softly.

Chan turned to look at her, a small, tender smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About?”

He paused, his gaze flickering between her and the members. “About... how much longer we can hide this from everyone.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. “I don’t think we need to hide it anymore.”

She leaned in slightly, her lips brushing his in a brief but sweet kiss. When she pulled away, her smile was soft but confident.

But before Chan could respond, the others noticed them. The members had been watching the exchange and couldn't ignore it any longer.

“Okay, this is getting ridiculous,” Seungmin called out from the couch, grinning. “You two are so obvious. Stop pretending you’re not together already!”

Y/N froze for a moment, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. She pulled her hand from Chan’s and glanced at the members, who were all now looking at them with knowing smiles and raised eyebrows.

“Wait, what?” Y/N said, trying to sound nonchalant, though her voice cracked slightly. “What are you talking about?”

“We’ve all seen it,” Hyunjin said with a teasing grin. “The secret looks. The little touches. The way you two act when no one’s looking.”

Felix smirked. “Noona, you’ve been keeping it lowkey, huh? But come on, we’re not that dumb.”

Chan sighed, his shoulders slumping as he ran a hand through his hair. “I guess it’s pretty obvious.”

“I’m glad you finally admitted it,” Changbin said with a knowing wink. “We’ve been waiting for the two of you to figure it out.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, her embarrassment fading into amusement. “I guess it wasn’t as secret as I thought.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Han said, rolling his eyes playfully. “You two are the worst at keeping things under wraps.”

“Wait, so you’re really together?” Seungmin asked, his eyes wide with mock surprise. “No one told me!”

“We’ve been waiting for the right moment,” Chan said, his voice calm but still with a hint of nervousness. He glanced at Y/N, his hand finding hers once again, their fingers intertwining naturally. “But I guess this is the moment.”

Y/N smiled softly, giving his hand a squeeze. “Yeah. We’re together.”

The members all erupted into cheers and claps, teasing them relentlessly but with warmth and excitement.

“Finally!” Felix shouted. “We’ve been waiting for this day!”

“Congratulations, Chan hyung!” Hyunjin added with a wink. “You didn’t let us down.”

Chan rolled his eyes, but his smile was wide. “You guys are impossible.”

Y/N laughed along with them, the tension lifting from the room. It felt right to finally say it out loud, to not hide it anymore. She and Chan were not only in a relationship—they were part of each other’s worlds now, and there was no turning back.

The group fell into easy chatter, teasing and congratulating the couple, but there was a warmth in the air now, a sense of unity that made everything feel just a little bit more perfect.

After the teasing had died down, and the members had retreated to their own corners, Chan and Y/N found themselves alone in the living room. The weight of their confessions still hung in the air, and they shared a quiet, intimate moment together.

Chan pulled Y/N into a gentle hug, his arms wrapped securely around her waist as they stood in the middle of the room, the night outside peaceful.

“I’m glad we did this,” Y/N said, her voice soft as she rested her head on his chest. “It feels like a weight has been lifted.”

“I’m glad too,” Chan murmured, his lips pressing against the top of her head.

The days after the members discovered Y/N and Chan’s relationship were both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. While the members of Stray Kids were supportive, teasing, and genuinely happy for them, it also meant that their relationship was no longer a secret. It was out in the open, and the dynamic had shifted slightly.

But for Y/N and Chan, it felt like a new beginning. They could now be open with their feelings, share stolen moments without hiding in the shadows, and no longer had to hide the tender affection that had been building for so long.

A Week Later

Stray Kids had been hard at work preparing for their next performance, and the practice room buzzed with the usual energy and enthusiasm. However, there was a noticeable shift in the air. Y/N and Chan were no longer exchanging secret glances but instead spoke to each other with a familiarity and warmth that the other members had grown accustomed to seeing.

The energy was light, but there was an undeniable tension between the two of them—a good tension that seemed to draw them closer every time they exchanged looks or brushed past each other during rehearsal.

As they took a short break, Chan walked over to Y/N, who was sitting on the floor stretching.

“Need some help with that stretch?” he asked, his voice low but teasing.

Y/N smiled, looking up at him. “You always say that when I’m on the floor, don’t you?”

“Only because it’s cute when you stretch,” Chan replied, kneeling down next to her with a grin. He placed his hand gently on her shoulder, the touch sending warmth through her.

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. “You really need to stop with the compliments. You’re going to make me blush.”

“Good,” Chan said, leaning in closer. “I like it when you blush.”

She playfully pushed him away. “Stop! You’re too much sometimes.”

Before they could continue the playful banter, Bang Chan’s voice echoed from the other side of the room.

“Focus, you two!” Lee Know called, eyes narrowing teasingly. “We’re supposed to be stretching, not flirting!”

The entire room broke into laughter, but there was no denying the warmth between Chan and Y/N. The other members watched in amusement, clearly enjoying the comfort and chemistry between the two.

The Following Week

The group was now preparing for their upcoming comeback, and the studio had become a second home for Stray Kids. The energy was always high, and everyone was hard at work, but it also meant that Y/N and Chan had to navigate the complexities of being in a relationship while working in the same professional space.

As they worked side by side, Y/N noticed how effortlessly they fit into the dynamic of the group. Chan would check in with her about lyrics, sometimes brushing his hand against hers as he passed her papers or leaned over to suggest changes. The members were fully supportive, often teasing the two of them but always with good-natured humor.

But it wasn’t just the members of Stray Kids who noticed. The staff, the choreographers, and even some of the other artists who came in for recordings could feel the shift in the atmosphere whenever Y/N and Chan were together. The bond between them was undeniable.

And then, one afternoon, while the group was taking a short break, Y/N and Chan were caught in a moment of pure affection. As the group was chatting casually, Chan reached out to fix a stray lock of hair that had fallen over Y/N’s forehead. His fingers brushed against her skin, and their eyes locked for a split second. There was a quiet intimacy in the way they shared the look, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

Jisung, who had been quietly observing, raised an eyebrow with a smirk. “Okay, you two. We get it. You’re cute. But we’re trying to work here!”

Y/N and Chan both blushed, stepping apart quickly. “Sorry!” Y/N said, looking sheepish but also unable to hide the smile tugging at her lips.

“I swear, if you guys get any more obvious, we’ll need to separate you two,” Hyunjin teased, his grin mischievous.

The teasing didn’t stop there, but Y/N and Chan couldn’t help but laugh, the tension between them now replaced with a shared sense of comfort.

The peaceful moments Y/N and Chan shared were soon overshadowed by the weight of an inevitable decision: the time had come to announce their relationship to the public. Their growing affection had long been impossible to hide from the people closest to them, but now it was a matter of whether they would control the narrative or let the media take charge of their story.

For the past few weeks, both had been grappling with the idea of how to approach it. They were aware of the scrutiny that came with being public figures, but they had also realized that their feelings for each other were too strong to keep hidden any longer. They needed to be honest—not only with the public, but with themselves.

Chan and Y/N sat on the couch late one evening, a blanket draped over their laps as they spoke in low voices, the weight of their conversation hanging in the air.

“So, it’s really time,” Y/N said, her fingers nervously tracing the edge of the blanket. Her heart raced, knowing that once they made the decision, there would be no turning back.

“Yeah,” Chan said softly, his hand finding hers, gently squeezing it. “I don’t want to hide anymore. Not from them. Not from us.” He met her eyes, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “We’re strong enough to handle whatever comes. We’ve been through too much together.”

Y/N nodded, taking a deep breath. “I know. It just feels... scary. The media, the fans... What if they don’t accept us?”

“I’ll be with you through it all,” Chan reassured her. “No matter what happens, I’ve got your back. We’ve got this.”

She leaned against him, her heart swelling with affection. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

The day they decided to announce their relationship to the public arrived with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. Y/N and Chan sat down with their managers, who had prepared a statement that would be shared with the fans and media. It was carefully crafted to be both respectful and clear, allowing them to express their feelings while maintaining some level of privacy.

Y/N’s hands shook slightly as she held the piece of paper with the statement, but Chan’s reassuring presence next to her calmed her nerves. They knew they had to be careful, but they also knew they couldn’t hide anymore.

As the time for the announcement drew near, the tension in the air was palpable. The members of Stray Kids had gathered in the living room, anxiously awaiting their friends' decision. The room was filled with murmurs of excitement, nervousness, and support. Everyone knew the significance of this moment.

“Are you two ready?” Bang Chan asked, his voice steady as he glanced at Y/N.

Y/N smiled weakly, her nerves evident. “I think so.”

“Don’t worry,” Seungmin said with a teasing grin. “We’ve got your back. Besides, we know you guys are perfect for each other.”

The others nodded in agreement, giving them words of encouragement.

With a deep breath, Y/N and Chan stood together, ready to face the world.

The official Stray Kids Twitter account shared the announcement:

“Hello, Stays! We wanted to take a moment to share something important with you all. Over the past few months,Bangchan and Y/N have developed a close and special relationship, one that we are very proud of. As their friends, we wanted to support them in their decision to go public. We ask for your understanding and respect as they embark on this new chapter. As always, we are grateful for your continued love and support. Thank you.”

The post went live, and the reactions were immediate. Within minutes, thousands of comments flooded in from fans. Some were ecstatic, expressing their joy and excitement for the couple. Others were surprised but supportive, appreciating the honesty. However, there were a few critics who voiced their concerns, questioning their relationship and what it meant for the group’s image.

On the Twitter Feed

“Oh my god, Bangchan and Y/N?! 😭💖 So happy for them! They’re so perfect together!”

“I can’t believe this is real! I’ve been shipping them for so long!!”

“Wishing them all the best! Love is real, and so is this ship 😍💑”

“What?? I never saw this coming, but I support them! #StayTrue”

“Wow, this is so sudden. Is this the best decision for them, though?”

“I don’t know if I can handle this. I just hope they’re ready for what comes next. It’s a lot of pressure for them...”

The mixed reactions didn’t surprise either of them. They had both prepared for the scrutiny that came with the territory of being idols, but they also knew that the love they shared was worth it. The most important thing was that they had each other—and the unwavering support of their friends.

As the evening wore on, Stray Kids sat together in the living room, following up on their announcement. They had been checking social media reactions all day, and while there was a lot of love and support, it was clear that the announcement had stirred up a lot of attention.

“Are you guys, okay?” Han asked, his eyes soft as he turned to Y/N and Chan.

Y/N nodded, but there was a hint of concern in her eyes. “It’s a lot to process, but I think... we can handle it. I’m just glad we did it together.”

Chan smiled, his arm around Y/N’s shoulders. “We’ve got each other’s backs, no matter what happens.”

The members of Stray Kids rallied around them, offering their words of encouragement and support.

“You two are amazing,” Han said, a big smile on his face. “You’ve got all of us behind you, and we’ve got you covered.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about a thing,” Hyunjin added. “We’re a team, and we’ll take on whatever comes together.”

The love and support from the group was overwhelming, and it made the weight of the situation feel a little lighter.

That night, as the group finally settled in to relax, Chan and Y/N found themselves alone in the living room once again. They sat together on the couch, the glow of the soft lamps casting a warm light across the room.

Y/N rested her head on Chan’s shoulder, her hand still tightly clasped in his.

“Do you think we did the right thing?” she asked quietly, her voice filled with a mix of uncertainty and hope.

Chan kissed the top of her head gently. “I do. We’re finally being honest. And that’s all that matters.”

Y/N smiled, her heart full of gratitude. “I love you, Chan.”

“I love you too, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. “And nothing is going to change that.”

And for the first time in a long while, Y/N felt a sense of peace. No matter what the world threw their way, she knew that as long as they had each other, they could face anything.

[shockercoco]

Shambles

Feyd Rautha x reader

Warnings - 18+, smut, knife kink, blood kink, fingering, oral (f! receiving, squirting, penetration

Word count - 2783

a/n - request: "Hi! Your fic Bloodlust (feyd) has me in SHAMBLES. 🥵😂 I’m so in love with it!!!!" - read the rest of the request here @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascalI . I got this request about 4 months ago, but I've just been so distracted with college that, as you can see, I've taken forever to get to it. I do want to be more active on tumblr, but I'm also writing a feature length screenplay on the side. As always, tysm for the love while I've been gone and your patience, and I hope you guys enjoy :)

“Which one do you suggest, my darling?” Feyd asks you, his bare back to you.

You look over at Feyd from your place on the bed, who stands in front of his walls of weapons. His fingers ghost over a few before glancing back at you, waiting for an answer. His injury from his fight is no longer leaking on his arm, but your red handprints are still very much visible on his body.

You know he means to use one of the weapons on you, but hearing him say those words out loud made your throat dry and heat drip from your opening. You feel your walls clench around nothing at what’s to come. “For what?” you innocently ask.

Feyd doesn’t take his eyes off of the wall when he answers, “You know exactly what I mean.”

You hate the fact that this situation is turning you on, when it should be doing the exact opposite. Turning on your side, you point towards a weapon. “How about that one right there?”

Feyd turns his head to look at you, and then follows to where your finger is pointing – the smallest knife on the wall. It honestly looks kind of pathetic next to the others. He smirks to himself already knowing you would choose something like that. “Are you sure? That one’s kind of tiny, don’t you think something more commanding would be more fitting for a woman such as yourself?”

“Big things come in small packages,” you tell him, giving him a small shrug.

You know Feyd’s extremely skilled with almost any weapon in existence, and you trust him enough to know that he wouldn’t hurt you on purpose, but that still doesn’t stop the fact that he’ll be putting an actual blade to your skin.

Feyd’s eyes linger on you for a second, before breathing out a small laugh and removing the tiny knife from its place on the wall. The knife is barely longer than the distance from his wrist to the tips of his fingers, but it’s still sharp and intimidating. He rotates it in his hand, watching in excitement the light catch it, before turning away from the wall.

You feel your heartbeat speed up as Feyd walks towards the bed, his strides slow on purpose as he continues to rotate the knife in his hand. Your gown is gone, but your body still feels hot. He stops right in front of the bed and looks down at you, his smirk never faltering.

Feyd lets out a small hum as his eyes travel up and down your bare body, your soaked panties being the only thing giving you some sort of coverage as they cling to your opening. You would be lying if everything pooling in your panties was from your previous orgasm. 

You shift a little as he stares at you, starting to feel uncomfortable. His smirk widens as he notices your movement. He knows how much you hate his intense gaze – that is when it’s on you. You enjoy watching Feyd stare down his opponent in the arena.

“Should I clean myself up for the lady before we get started?” Feyd questions, referring to the blood stains on his bare torso.

“No,” you don’t hesitate, but watching Feyd’s expression makes you regret how eager you just sounded.

Feyd’s eyebrows raise in amusement. “Well, look at you. You’re changing, my love, and I’m enjoying every second.”

“You’re a bad influence,” you tell him, to which he nods in agreement.

He only admires you for a moment longer before sinking to his knees in front of the bed. You let out a small squeal as he grabs you by the ankles and pulls you towards his face, your legs now dangling off of the edge of the bed. You push yourself up onto your elbows to keep him in view.

Feyd’s smirk seems to turn sinister as he’s now face to face with your covered cunt, his eyes mimic the shade they turn when he’s in the arena. You begin to feel like his prey. Feyd’s mouth waters at the fact that your wetness has made your panties almost transparent, allowing him to see the outline of you and your sweetness pooling at your entrance.

A gasp leaves your lips as Feyd lays the flat side of the blade on the skin of your leg, gently tracing up to your thigh and then to the edge of your panties. Goosebumps form on your skin at the feeling of the cold metal floating across you.

You watch as Feyd carefully places the blade over you through your panties, making your body slightly jump as you feel everything through the thin fabric. Your body feels as if it’s buzzing, and Feyd’s just getting started.

Feyd tears his eyes away from between your legs to look you in the eyes, giving you a questioning look as he looks for any sign of you wanting him to stop. When Feyd doesn’t see anything, he continues his movements.

Given the extreme sharpness of the tiny weapon, it only takes a small press for your panties to begin tearing. Once the fabric has been rendered useless, Feyd tosses it aside and moves his face closer to your cunt, enjoying the way your hole winks at him.

His eyes close as he breathes in your scent, a pleased sound leaving him as he smirks. Your hips jerk as he places a thumb on your clit and begins to rub tiny circles into you, before running his thumb up and down your slit. Your eyes close and your head tips back at the feeling.

“Looks like I already prepped you well,” Feyd says, mainly to himself as he watches his thumb move along your folds with satisfaction. A clicking sound forms from your wetness being spread around.

He quickly dips the tip of his thumb into your opening before pulling it back out and going back up to give attention to your clit. A small whimper leaves your lips as your back hits the bed, no longer having the strength to hold yourself up. Your limbs already feel weak.

You suddenly feel something stiffer and harder touch your clit. You glance down to see Feyd rubbing the tip of the knife’s handle into you. Your mouth falls open as your hips subconsciously begin to move. 

Feyd then slides the handle of the knife through your folds, spreading your lubricant around the handle. He clenches his jaw as he feels himself grow hard from the sight before him and the sounds of your pants growing louder in his ears.

Once the handle seems to be coated enough, he dips it further down for it to prod at your entrance. Your hands grip the bed sheets in anticipation at what’s to come, nerves flooding your stomach as your heart continues its fast pace.

“Just do it al-,” you begin to say, but cut yourself as you feel Feyd apply more pressure and push the handle into your welcoming opening. A gasp leaves your lips at the off yet enjoyable feeling of the ridges along the handle rubbing along your inner walls. Your head falls back against the bed as Feyd pushes and pulls. 

The grasp Feyd has on the actual blade is not too tight, but the blade’s edges are still digging into his palm. Feyd lips part as he watches the handle repeatedly disappear inside of you, the corners of his mouth twitching. He quickly swallows when he feels his mouth start to water in hopes to keep himself under control.

“You’re such a pleasant sight, my love,” Feyd muses. “I could look at you all day.”

But when he says this, he never takes his eyes away from you dripping opening. The grip you have on the sheets tightens as you moan at his words

“Oh my god,” you mewl, your eyes rolling towards the back of your skull.

The sound of your slick grows louder the longer Feyd continues his motions – this just turns you on more. You can feel yourself dripping onto the fabric underneath your body. Your back arches as your hips move with Feyd’s hand. Everything is so lewd and unlike anything you’ve ever done.

“Feyd-,” you breathe out, accidentally cutting yourself off with a whimper. Your body is trembling and you can already feel yourself approaching the end.

“I know, I know,” Feyd coos, finally looking up at your blissed out expression. He smirks at the way the back of your head digs into the sheets, your eyes squeezed closed with pretty noise repeatedly leaving your lips. Feyd notices your squirming becoming more evident and does everything he knows to bring you to the edge.

He suddenly pulls the handle out of your cunt and tosses it aside on the bed, your walls desperately clamping around nothing at the sudden loss. Your eyes open in confusion as you tilt your head down at him. He doesn’t give you a chance to question him before he’s shoving two long fingers inside of you.

“Oh, yes. Yes, yes, yes!” you cry as Feyd curls his fingers along your sweet spot.

Feyd places his unoccupied hand on your stomach to pin your body to your bed and to give himself more leverage to roughly finger you.

“Come on,” Feyd grunts to himself.

It doesn’t take much longer for your climax to arrive, causing every inch of your body to feel tight and loose at the same time. Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out as your eyes widen and roll back.

“Fuck!” you pathetically sob out. The wet squelches of your cunt grow louder as Feyd’s fingers contine.

Your arousal comes out in spurts around his fingers – some landing along his palm and forearm while the rest pools onto the soaked sheets. Feyd tries to prolong your squirting as long as possible, his smirk never faltering as he uses more force to hold your body down. The crazed look on his face doesn’t go unnoticed by you, and you hate the warm feeling beginning to form again in your stomach.

You squeal as you blindly bring a hand between your legs, your thighs closing around his hand. This has no effect on Feyd at all. You choke and pant as you use your shaky hands to try and crawl away from the tortuous pleasure. A deep chuckle leaves Feyd’s chest as he allows you to pull away and watches as you push yourself back to the headboard.

Your chest heaves as you stare at the ceiling to help you collect yourself. This, though, causes you to miss the wonderful view of Feyd removing your juices from his fingers with his mouth. He groans as his lips surround his fingers and his tongue savors your flavor. Your sweet taste doesn’t help the thick bulge growing in his underwear, but Feyd finds the pain pleasurable.

“What a mess you’ve made,” Feyd muses.

The thin layer of sweat covering your body contributes nothing to how deliciously filthy you feel. A constant buzz is running through your limbs and your head feels light. Your eyes catch the sight of the abandoned knife a couple inches from your body – the wetness coating the handle can be easily seen.

You’re brought out of your little daze with the feeling of large hands wrapping around your ankles. 

“Don’t tell me you’re tapping out already? You would think I’ve trained you better than that with the many nights we’ve shared,” Feyd’s tone is condescending as he talks, his expression smug.

Nothing comes to your mind that seems worth it to say, so you just stay silent and continue to try and catch your breath.

“Come on, my sweet, I know you have more in you,” Feyd purrs as he pulls you back down to the end of the bed.

Just as your heart rate was about to return back to normal, you feel it pick back up again at the meaning behind his words. Your legs feel limp, so it’s easy for Feyd to spread them apart and place his face between them, his eyes never leaving yours.

His warm breath tickles your sensitive opening, causing goosebumps to appear across your skin as you tremble in his hold. Feyd moves his attention to your messy folds, which take up his field of view in such a perfect way. He blows a puff of air onto your cunt and watches as your body jumps and your walls clench around nothing as your arousal continues to seep out.

You can help but let out a soft moan at the feeling.

Feyd sticks his tongue out to give you a small kitten lick before slipping his tongue back into his mouth. Your thighs go to close again, but Feyd keeps them apart with his hands. He tosses your legs over his shoulders to make sure your precious cunt is as close as possible to his face.

“Feyd, baby,” you softly whimper out as you look down at him.

“Will you let me have a taste? A powerful woman such as yourself deserves to be cleaned up,” Feyd teases as his eyes meet yours again, “Don’t you think?”

You let out a small whimper as Feyd begins to place light kisses on your trembling inner thighs. He doesn’t break eye contact as he waits for your answer.

“What do you say?” he questions, hovering his mouth over your drooling cunt.

“Yes, just do it,” you weakly breathe out.

Feyd barely lets you finish your sentence as he dives into your opening, swiping and licking up every bit of your arousal he can find. He begins to thrust his tongue in and out of your opening, making you whine. Despite your sensitivity, you buck your hips into his face, giving Feyd deeper access to you as he holds you tight against him.

Feyd groans against your folds, sending the vibrations through every nerve ending in your body. You choke on a moan as a gasp leaves your lips and your back begins to arch again. Feyd slips his tongue out to place it on your clit, wrapping his lips around your swollen bud and gently sucking before sliding back into you.

It doesn’t take long for you to be brought to the edge of your next orgasm with the way he’s messily lapping at your folds. He feels your thighs begin to shake even more and doesn’t get deterred when he feels you tighten them around his head.

Your body begins to thrash in his hold, but Feyd only tightens his hold on your body as he continues to shove his tongue in and out of you. When you feel Feyd move a hand and place his thumb on your clit, you immediately fall apart – repeatedly bucking your hips into his face as your hands scramble along the sheets to try and find something to grab ahold of.

Only when Feyd finally pulls his lips away from you is when your body relaxes in his grip. Feyd hums as he licks your juices from his lips, closing his eyes to savor the taste. You don’t get much time to calm down before Feyd is removing the rest of his clothing, situating his hips between your thighs, and letting his aching cock rest against your abdomen. 

You feel yourself throb as you look down at his length on your abdomen, watching it twitch and the precum slowly leak from the tip.

“I hope you’re ready for another, darling. After all, I still haven’t had my release,” Feyd sends a fake pout your way. You want to roll your eyes at him, but you barely have energy left. 

“Baby…I can’t,” you whine, and Feyd just shakes his head.

Feyd places a gentle hand against your cheek as places his forearms on either side of your head, trapping you with his arms. He moves his lips towards your ear to whisper, “You can, and you will. I believe in you.”

Your inner walls clench around nothing at his tone and the feeling of his warm breath tickling your neck. Feyd doesn’t give you a chance to say another word before lining himself up with your entrance, meeting no resistance from your soaked and welcoming opening.

The both of you share a moan as he pushes all the way in. Feyd leans his head onto your shoulder, needing a second to get control himself as he feels your tight, warm walls sucking him in. You can’t see the way his eyes roll to the back of his skull and his jaw clenches, before his hips begin to move against yours.

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[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 26: Do You Love Me

Summary: As Lucy continues to pull further away, Tommy tries to bridge the growing schism between them.

Word Count: 6,398

Warnings: Angst, insecurity, suicidal thoughts, chronic pain, sexual harassment, and references to infidelity and sexual content.

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Chapter 11: Kiss Me Where I Break

Tommy was beginning to worry that he might have broken her.

She said next to nothing the entire train ride from Birmingham to London, all his attempts at initiating conversation met with one word answers or just quiet hums in acknowledgement while she stared out the window. Eventually, he just gave up and decided to leave her alone.  

The past few days had been utterly hellish. He kept forgetting that Lucy wasn’t at the house anymore. He’d be in the throes of work, and call out for her, only to realize a second later that no one was coming. She wasn’t a simple holler away anymore.

He missed her almost more than he could bear. He had gotten so used to her always being there. Right by his side. To help him, to talk to him. To just…be there when he needed her. It was like someone had amputated one of his limbs.

But being around her during the workday did little to soothe the ache of her absence. Both because of the guilt that chewed away at him at every glance into her sad eyes, but also because something had undeniably changed between them. There was a schism between them now, ever since he had told her about Lizzie’s deal. Lucy was more distant, more subdued. Like the bright spark that she always carried with her had been suddenly snuffed out. He missed her, even when she was standing right in front of him. 

He wanted his Lucy back. 

For a while, he had thought that perhaps she was immune to him and the darkness that he carried. And yet in the end he had sapped out her light; broken her like he did everyone else close to him. 

He rolled his unlit cigarette between his fingers as he strode down the hallways of Westminster. Frustration crackled beneath his skin. His meeting earlier that day with Aberama had gone well. Aberama had agreed to postpone his planned killing of McCavern. And he was planning to propose to Polly. But despite the recent string of accomplishments, Tommy felt no joy or relief. If anything, he felt even worse.    

He couldn’t help the prickle of jealousy he felt towards Polly and Aberama. How fucking lucky they were, to actually be marrying someone that they truly loved. 

He eyed the golden band on his left hand disdainfully. It felt more like a shackle than a wedding ring.

Pushing open the door to his office, he chanced a glance at where Lucy was sitting, bent over a few documents with her fists pressed to her temples, elbows on the desk in front of her. Her lips were tilted downwards. Next to her, the fresh bouquet of sunflowers he’d sent was perched on the edge of her desk. He opened his mouth, considering asking her if she wanted to go out to dinner, then closed it. Why bother? He already knew that she was going to say no. 

Still, worry festered at the edges of his already frayed mind, longing to fix what he had so stupidly broken. He needed her. Everything was ten times harder without her there to lighten the load. He hadn’t even fully realized just how much he’d come to rely on her emotional support until it had been ripped away.  

He didn’t know what to do to make any of this better. They had never had problems before. Sure, they’d had their squabbles and arguments from time to time, but they never lasted long. When it came to Lucy, this was entirely new territory for him.     

Wandering into his own office, he tossed the folder of papers he was holding down, reaching for the decanter usually filled with whiskey only to find it empty. Scowling, suddenly deeply irritable, he opened a drawer and snatched the large bottle inside, taking a slow swig. A soft sigh left his lips, eyes briefly slipping closed as the cool liquid slid down his throat.

With the meetings with McCavern, Chang, and Aberama, he had barely had time to stop to catch his breath.

Without even so much as a knock, the door to his office opened, and, of all people, Mosley came slithering in. Tommy quickly stashed the bottle back into the drawer and wiped at his mouth, turning to face him. Those dark eyes of Mosley’s narrowed, voice doing little more than to set Tommy’s teeth on edge as he discussed the invitation Tommy had extended to him to the ballet performance at Arrow House for Lizzie’s birthday. As the conversation continued, Tommy moved to sit in his chair behind his desk, suddenly eager to have some sort of barrier between them. 

Mosley eyed him up like an animal waiting to pounce when he started speaking of his past acquaintance with Lizzie. No doubt hoping for some sort of reaction from his words. Tommy kept his hands laced tightly in his lap, hoping that the other man didn’t see the way his fingers tightened against each other.  

“Well, if you recognize her, maybe you can talk about old times, eh?”

“Maybe, if we have met before, your wife and I could even renew our acquaintance. I am invited to stay the night, yes?”

It was becoming increasingly hard for him to remember why he continued to tolerate Mosley’s presence. With each passing moment the temptation was growing stronger to grab the gun in his drawer or use the blades in his cap to slice the man to pieces. Or to perhaps call Lucy in and have her deal with the fascist piece of shit. That could be fun.

Speaking of Lucy, perhaps now would be a good time to let Mosley know about the research he’d asked her to do on the MP.

“I too have done some research, Sir Oswald,” he allowed his eyes to narrow a fraction. “Yeah. I researched your wife. And your wife’s younger sister. And your wife’s stepmother, Lady Curzon. All of whom you are fucking. If such things were to take place on a narrowboat, the church would get involved.”

“But…” Mosley’s voice was but a whisper, “it’s not happening on a narrowboat.”

“No. It’s taking place in your apartment, in your country house, sometimes even in your office here in the House of Commons.” He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “So no secrets. And yes. Yes, you are invited to stay the night with whichever member of your family finds favor. Now, if you don’t mind, I was about to leave. I need to lock up my office.”

Mosley looked at him for a long moment, smoking casually. “Funny,” he said finally, “how disapprovingly you speak of my liaisons. Considering that lovely redhead that you always keep so close to you. Pretty thing. A bit plain, for my taste, to tell you the truth, but still. Lovely.” Tommy’s stomach churned. “Tragic past too, poor thing. She’s been working for you for many years now, hasn’t she?” Mosley cocked his head. “And I hear that she has quite the array of talents. Tell me, was it her that you had do your research on me?” He didn't wait for a response. “Wonderous job, if it was. Very few people know about my particular relationship with the Lady Curzon. Perhaps I should borrow her, at some point. I’m sure that she could be of the utmost use to me.” 

Tommy felt like he was going to throw up. Mosley took another long, slow drag from his cigarette, eyes not once leaving Tommy’s.

“Actually, I will come alone,” he said, finally, in response to Tommy’s invitation. “In society, you are judged by your hospitality. I will expect adventure.” He leaned across Tommy’s desk to put his cigarette out in the ashtray. Tommy was certain that if he had to hear that man lecture him one more time about the ‘rules of society,’ he was going to scream. Mosley straightened. “Such rogues we are, aren’t we? Sing like songbirds in the House. And then afterwards, relieve ourselves in the bodies of whomever we choose. Two men for whom forbidding is forbidden,” he raised the little paper that was his invitation, “should be quite the party.”

Tommy managed a smile that was more of a grimace, and Mosley finally, finally slunk his way out of the office. He pressed a hand to his face once the door closed, mind whirling. The idea of letting Mosley near Lucy or Lizzie made his skin crawl and stomach heave. And yet he was going to do it. To let the man waltz right into his home on an invitation. His hand trembled. Neither of them deserved him. Lucy’s sad eyes and Lizzie’s resentful gaze danced in his mind. He should have left them both alone. They would be better off now, if he had. Rather than latching onto them and dragging them down with him into the depths of hell. He’d only wanted to help them, and yet all he had accomplished was ruining their lives. And that wasn’t even counting this current mess he had made. A mess that he had no idea how to fix without hurting at least one of them.              

His eyes flickered down to the topmost right drawer of his desk, hand pulling it open almost of its own accord. The gun sat atop the papers stacked inside. Tommy let his hand fall from the handle, eyes still fixed on the gun. He leaned forward with an exhale against his desk, head bowed and eyes squeezed shut. There was a breath echoing in his mind. Slow and steady with its inhales and exhales. He rested both hands on the back of his head, rubbing at the skin in an attempt to quell the swirl of self hatred that he was drowning in. The room was suddenly very dark and cold.

“You have to listen to the voices that you hear.”

His head snapped upwards, eyes wide open. No.

“Do what they tell you to do.”

The breaths were continuing. Her breaths. Her last breath as she died in his arms. Yet another one of the women in his life that he failed despite the amount in which he cared for her.

“You don’t even have to rub the lamp anymore to summon the genie,” Grace continued to speak from where she was standing in the corner. A shiver ran down Tommy’s spine. Grace raised a hand, and dangling from her fingers on a chain was the massive blue sapphire, the one he had locked around her throat. His greed having sealed her fate. “It wasn’t the blue stone, Tommy. It was you,” she pressed the necklace to her chest. He could hear her heartbeats now, a rapid thumping in his head. The drip of blood running from her chest to the floor. Tommy’s hand tightened into a fist. He couldn’t look at her. At those accusatory eyes. “It was you.”

There was a soft knock on the door. “Tommy?” Lucy’s voice called.

The breaths and heartbeats faded away. Grace vanished from sight. Tommy leaned backwards, squeezing his eyes shut tight and exhaling. “Just a minute, Luce,” he choked out. He forced deep breaths to pass through his lips, pushing the panic attack down with each one. Eyes finally opening, he pushed the open drawer with the gun in it closed, sitting up and straightening himself out. “Yeah?”

The door cracked open and Lucy poked her head in, a folder tucked under her arm. She stepped into the room, walking to his desk and holding the folder out to him. “I need you to sign these.”

He took the folder from her, scribbling his signature on the dotted line of the documents inside. Lucy passed a hand over her hair. 

“I sent Adam home. What did Mosley want?”

“To talk about ballet.”

She snorted. “He’s really coming then?”

“Yep,” he handed her back the folder.

“Goody for us,” her voice dripped with sarcasm. Tommy grunted in response. Lucy tucked the folder back under her arm. Her brown eyes swept over him, carefully. “Are you alright?”

Tommy rubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah. Just been a long day.”

She didn’t look like she believed him, but nodded, heading back towards the door. “I’ll go get these filed.”

He watched her disappear out the door. “Thank you.” 

He remained reclined back in his chair for a few more minutes, until his breathing had fully evened out and he felt a little less like if someone touched him he might collapse. He glanced back towards the door that led to Lucy and Adam’s office area. When this business was done and the mess between them straightened out, he needed to do something nice for her. He tried to think back to the last time they had done something, just the two of them, that didn’t have anything to do with work in the past several weeks. His brow furrowed at the conclusion that he couldn’t think of anything outside of stolen kisses and touches in dark corners or in her room at Arrow House. Tommy frowned, lips pursing together, another wave of guilt slicing through his being at the way he had been unintentionally neglecting his lover. He realized, with a shuddering of utter horror, that he could not remember the last time he had even simply held her.     

Shaking his head, Tommy reached into his pocket to check the time on his watch. It was getting late. He stood from his chair, locking up the drawers in his desk that housed sensitive documents, stuffing a few files into his briefcase, and heading out the door, locking that too behind him. Lucy was sitting at her desk, riffling through some papers. He gently touched her shoulder.           

“It’s getting late,” he said softly. “We should lock up.”

She looked up at him, nodding wordlessly and beginning to stack the papers she had been working on, slipping them into a folder and locking them away in the filing cabinet kept in the corner. Tommy watched her cautiously. He reached out a hand to wrap around her wrist, brow furrowing at how cold her skin felt. 

“We could go to the apartment tonight,” he offered. He knew it wasn’t much. Certainly not enough considering what he was putting her through. But it was the best he could think to offer at the moment. 

Lucy looked down at the floor for a moment, and when she looked up at him those dark brown eyes were shiny. 

“Lizzie’s bringing Charlie and Ruby up to visit the office tomorrow,” she reminded him gently. Tommy blinked. He had forgotten. He’d promised to show them around Westminster and then take them all out to lunch.

“So?” he asked, fingers remaining wrapped around her wrist. Lucy gave him a look.

“I’m assuming that you’d like to be able to hold your daughter’s hand while you show her around?” 

Alright, he definitely deserved that one. 

“And you have an appointment this evening with Dr. Brooke.”

“I remember,” he sighed, letting go of her wrist and shoving his hands deep into his pockets, eyes glancing out the window while he frowned. “It’ll be too late after I'm done to go back to Birmingham.”

“I was thinking that while you’re at your appointment I’d follow up on some research on Mosley’s associates,” Lucy added. “And I need to pick up Lizzie’s birthday presents.”  

“And what did I get her this year?”

“A diamond necklace she’s been eyeing in the magazines. Part of the same collection as those earrings you got her in Paris that she likes so much.” 

He touched her face lightly. “Whatever would I do without you?”  

Her lips twitched upwards into a small smile, though her eyes still looked sad. Tommy let his thumb stroke over her bottom lip. He just wanted to see her smile again. A real smile. The kind that she would often shoot at him from across the room at family meetings or during the workday. Mischievous and bright and warm enough to thaw even his ice cold heart.

“Alright, I’ll go to my appointment and run some errands in town. You go pick up the gifts, do your work. We’ll meet back at the apartment.” At her raised eyebrow he held up his hands. “We just won’t fuck. I promise that I won’t try to maul you.”

That earned him a small, amused snort. “You think Lizzie will believe that?”

He sighed deeply. “Let me worry about Lizzie.”

Lucy nodded. “Okay,” she went to grab her coat from its hook. Tommy wetted his lips as he watched her, reaching out again to touch her arm lightly.

“Maybe…maybe after Lizzie and the kids have gone back home…”

“A day on either side, remember?”

“Yes, but we could still plan on the day after…”

“Why does it matter so much?” she asked, voice suddenly sharpening. “It’s not like you’re not still getting any.”

Tommy had to suppress a flinch. “It’s not the same…” he tried to argue softly. Lucy sighed and looked away, fiddling with her rings. He cocked his head, taking a cautious step towards her. “And what about you, eh?”

Her breath came out in a shaky exhale. “I’m fine.”

“You’re clearly not…”

“Can we talk about this later, please?” she looked around the office, shifting uncomfortably. “Not here.”

Tommy wanted to argue, because not speaking of it was driving him mad. But he held his tongue. He was worried that if he pushed her too hard on it, she’d just retreat even further away inside herself. Besides, it would give him the opportunity to keep working on Lizzie and coming up with his own solutions to the problem. Any conversation that they had about it was surely to go better if he came to her with a potential fix already in hand. 

“Okay.”

She gave him a grateful look, shoulders relaxing at the reprieve. Tucking his hands into his pockets, he cocked his head. 

“What time do you think you’ll be back?” 

“Late. Probably around midnight. Maybe one.” That wasn’t uncommon when she was doing her spy work for him. 

“Be careful.”

She smiled another smile that still did not quite meet her eyes. “Always.”

He watched her leave with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, worried frown set like stone onto his face.

∗ ∗ ∗

Lizzie sighed, flopping down onto the couch in one of the large sitting rooms in Arrow House, the children playing in front of her on the rug near the fireplace. She smiled softly as she watched them, appreciating the way Charlie played so gently with his half-sister. Such a sweet kid. She wondered, sometimes, if that was what Tommy was like. Before the war.

Long fingers adjusting on her cigarette, Lizzie’s eyes caught on the chessboard sitting on the table, the little pieces all arranged into their starting positions. A memory of Lucy sitting down unceremoniously in front of her one evening, chessboard clutched in her hands, played within her mind.

“Play with me, Lizzie?” she had asked, widening those big brown eyes at her. Lizzie had shifted uncomfortably, suddenly embarrassed.

“I don’t know how to play,” she admitted. Lucy shrugged.

“That’s alright. I’ll teach you,” she spoke without missing a beat. At Lizzie’s apprehensive look she groaned dramatically. “C’mon Lizzie, please? I’m bored. Tommy’s busy. No one else will play with me,” she had flashed her that teasing, mischievous smile. “I’ll be your best friend.” 

It had been hard not to relent, when Lucy was looking at her so hopefully, eyes dancing and playful. One game turned into several, and soon it had become a sort of tradition between the two of them.

Lizzie frowned at the sharp ache of missing the little redhead that throbbed in her chest. 

Her absence felt like a gaping hole had been ripped open in the middle of the house. Everyone’s moods–even the staffs’--had taken a turn towards melancholy. The children weren’t as joyful when they played. Cyril was depressed and barely eating. Trouble paced the halls while crying, but hissed and scratched at anyone who so much as tried to come near her. The horses in the stables were gloomy.

A chill seemed to have swept over the entire house. Even the fires lit in the hearths at night didn’t seem as warm. Tommy spent most of his time holed up in his office, his mood somehow even darker than it had been before. He yelled at everyone more often. And one evening, when she couldn’t sleep and had wandered down to the library for a book, she was pretty sure that she heard him weeping. 

What the fuck have I done?

Head falling back against the couch, Lizzie breathed out an exhale of smoke tiredly. Her glazed over eyes watched Ruby play with one of her dolls, raising her cigarette to her lips for another drag. 

Ever since Lucy had moved out, she had been considering what she wanted to do. 

When she had put the phone down after calling the solicitor in London, she had made the decision to stay. But not for Tommy. Not really. It had been for the children. For the house. For the luxury and money and status that Tommy had gifted her when he signed their marriage license. All he’d asked for in exchange was that she care for his home and children, and allow him to be with his lover. 

She had made a promise, when she married Tommy. She had swore to him that his relationship with Lucy would be allowed to stand. That she wouldn’t interfere, or make things difficult for them to be together. She had promised the same thing to Lucy.

Poor Lucy, who had only ever tried to be her friend.

Christ, she hadn’t even realized how big of a presence Lucy had in the house, in all their lives–in her life–until she was gone. 

She fucking missed her. Missed the way she always seemed to sense when Lizzie needed a break from the kids and was happy to take them off her hands for a few hours. Missed the way she’d always make her an extra cup of tea whenever she fixed one for herself. And how she would help her during her horse riding lessons when she was able. Or when she would fold over the pages in the catalogs that they got of the things that she thought Lizzie might like. 

She missed how she’d cover her over with a blanket every time that she fell asleep on the couch because she worried about her getting cold. And the way that she urged for Tommy to do things with her on their own every once in a while, be it just them or with the kids, even though Lizzie knew that it hurt her to see them all together like that. 

Yes, they had clashed a lot. Even more so than usual, as of late. But they did have some good times mixed in there. 

She passed a hand over her eyes, swallowing down tears. Tommy had said that he probably wouldn’t be home tonight. She hadn’t been able to muster any disappointment at the news. Only deep relief. He had become unbearable to be around. But in a different way than he had been before. Prior, they had always been fighting. But now, he just seemed so…sad. With Lucy around he was still Tommy, with his closed off expressions and gruff words, but his eyes were a bit softer. And he smiled more, even if they were just subtle little quirking upwards of his lips. 

“Mommy?” Ruby asked, glancing up at Lizzie from where she was seated on the floor. Lizzie looked down at her.

“Yes, my darling?”

“Where’s Lucy?”

Her throat went dry. The children had asked her several times where Lucy was, and she had never been able to give them a straight answer, unable to bring herself to tell them that she likely was never coming back.

“She’s away at work, sweetheart, remember?”

“Is she coming back?”

Lizzie hesitated. “I don’t know, honey.”

Ruby returned her gaze to her doll. “I hope she comes back.”

Lizzie cocked her head. “Why’s that?”

When Ruby looked up at her, her wide dark eyes were filled with wisdom far beyond her age.

“Because Daddy’s happy when she’s here.”

∗ ∗ ∗

“Hey, do me a favor?” he asked Ada. “When that kid of yours arrives, keep it away from me,” he turned before he could really see Ada’s reaction from her place seated on the steps, heading for the door.

“Tommy,” Ada called out. He turned back. She was worrying at her bottom lip nervously, eyes darting about a moment before focusing back up at him. “I heard that Lucy left you.”

“She didn’t…leave me,” Tommy said, hoping that he was successfully able to hide his wince at the word. “She’s just not living at Arrow House anymore.” He narrowed his eyes. “Who told you?”

“Arthur mentioned it.”

He shook his head. Looked down at his feet. Arthur and his big fucking mouth. “You can say it.”

“Say what?”

“Say that you’re surprised that it took me this long to fuck things up with her.”

“That wasn't what I was thinking.”

“Yeah, well, then you’d be the only one,” it came out bitter, the taste unpleasant on his tongue.

“Tommy…” his sister started and then just sighed, shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry.”

“Mm. Good-night, Ada.” 

He walked back to the apartment miserably, opening the door to be greeted with a dark entryway and an equally dimmed sitting room. He pulled off his cap and stuffed it into his pocket, taking off his coat and hanging it up on the hook next to Lucy’s. 

He found her curled up on her side in bed, already asleep. He changed out of his clothes in a daze, sliding into the open space beside her. For a moment he just stared at her. Taking in the soft material of her silk maroon negligee, red hair spread out on the white pillow. 

He wanted very badly to wrap his arms around her. To hold her against his chest like he had almost every other night they had shared a bed. But he didn’t know if she wanted that. Any attempt he had made over the last few days to bridge the growing gap between them had only seemed to succeed in her pushing him even further away. He didn’t know what to do.

He wasn’t sure what it was Lucy really wanted anymore. It had been her idea to leave. Perhaps she had finally realized what he was: a monster that corrupted and ruined everything he’d ever touched. 

∗ ∗ ∗ 

When he woke up, it was to find that Lucy was no longer beside him. 

He reached out, half asleep, only to find her side of the bed cool to the touch. Frowning, he raised his head, blinking open his heavy eyelids and squinting in the dark of the room. No light was sneaking in through the curtains. It was still night outside.  

“Luce?” he mumbled. The ensuite washroom door was open, the light off. No Lucy there. 

Pushing himself up, he felt a frown twist his lips downwards. Did she so badly want to get away from him that she’d gone and slept in the other room?

His eyes finally landed on the sliver of golden light sneaking in through the crack under the door. Head cocking, he climbed out of bed, snatching up one of his white henley’s and pulling it on over his naked torso. The fuck was she doing out in the sitting room in the middle of the night?

He found her sitting on the couch, the lamp on the end table flicked on. For a moment, he didn’t entirely understand what she was doing. Her back was curved forward, both arms bent so that her hands were reaching backwards towards her shoulder blades. As he watched, her hands flexed, scratching and pressing at her skin, as if trying to massage it. A little whimper emitted from her throat. 

Then he understood. 

He should have guessed that this would happen. It had been raining pretty hard when he visited Ada’s, and the cold and wet always seemed to make Lucy’s shoulders act up. Plus he had to figure that the mattress she was sleeping on at Charlie’s wasn’t all that good for her back, either.

He wished she would let him at least get her a suite at the Midland to stay at. Even if just for herself. 

Hurrying around the couch, he sat down beside her, hands reaching for her shoulders to try to help. 

But at the first brush of his palms across her back, she jumped and jerked away. 

“N-no…” Her face whipped around to stare at him, and he was met with distraught, teary dark eyes. The very sight was enough to hurt him to his core. 

“I can help,” he said, half begging. 

She sniffled and wiped at her nose with the back of her hand. “I can handle it–”

“I know you can,” he told her gently. “But you don’t have to.” He saw something waver across her face, his hands reaching tentatively out for her again. “Please, let me help you.” Don’t make me sit by and watch you suffer through this on your own too.

Her bottom lip trembled a little, eyes searching his, and then her shoulders slumped, face angling towards the ground while she nodded in consent. Moving slowly, half afraid she would spook again, Tommy rested both hands on her back. He started up rubbing at her skin slowly, searching out the spots that he knew always gave her the most trouble. 

Lucy let out a deep breath, and he felt her relax a little under his hands. 

At least I can do this for her.

“There you go,” he said quietly. “It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

She let out another little hiccupping sob. He wasn’t sure if it was in relief over the pain being lessened, or from his words. Either way, he shifted a little closer to her. 

“Did you take your pain killers?” The doctor had given her a prescription to use in the event that the pains ever got especially bad. 

She nodded. “Haven’t kicked in yet.”

He sat there rubbing her shoulders for a good thirty minutes, until her spasmed muscles had relaxed and the pain medications started to do their job.

“Let’s go back to bed, eh?”

Lucy wiped at her eyes. “Okay.” 

She let him shepherd her back into the bedroom, curling up on top of the mattress, watching him flick off the lights and get in next to her, pulling the blanket up to tuck around her. 

“Sorry,” she whispered, after they’d both been still for a moment. Tommy stared at the outline of her next to him in the dark. Tentatively, he reached out, stroking his hand through her hair.

“It’s alright.”

∗ ∗ ∗ 

“Lucy!” 

She turned, smiling and scrunching her nose at the two little figures running towards her. She stooped, bending down to press a kiss to Charlie and Ruby’s foreheads.

“Hey kiddos,” she squatted down to their level. “How’ve you been? Have you been good?”

Ruby nodded her head as her voice chirped out a sweet little, “yes.” 

At the same time, Charlie cast her a mischievous look. “No.”

“No!? What do you mean, no!?” Lucy cried playfully, reaching around to tickle the boy's sides while he squealed. He looked so much like Tommy when he laughed, it was almost frightening. She pulled the two children in for a hug. “I gotta get back to work, okay? But you two have fun with your mum and dad, alright?”

The children whined but relented, Ruby shuffling back to grab onto Tommy’s hand while he smiled softly down at her. Lizzie ruffled Charlie’s hair affectionately, expression loving as she looked at her step-son. Lucy smiled at her awkwardly.

“Good to see you.”

Lizzie nodded, eyes not quite meeting hers. “You too.”

“Right,” she looked at Tommy. “I gotta go help Adam with paperwork.”

He nodded, expression difficult to read, though she thought that she could see a regretful glimmer enter his eyes when he looked at her. “Alright.”

She nodded in return, waving and flashing a smile at Charlie and Ruby before ducking away. Watching from her desk, she looked on as Tommy ushered his children and Lizzie out of the office. He and Lizzie were both sporting wide smiles. Lucy huffed out a breath, nodding to herself. Good. That was good. They were happier now. Finally at peace with their little family.

Now if only her heart would stop hurting. 

∗ ∗ ∗   

They met with McCavern that evening along with Uncle Charlie to confirm the plan for distribution of the opium.

“Now who’s this fine lady?” McCavern asked when he spotted her, eyes shining in the lights of the lanterns as he looked her over. 

Lucy smiled thinly, taking his hand and shaking it when Tommy introduced them. What the fuck was it with these fascists and their constant leering?

She took a seat next to Charlie, listening to Tommy deal with McCavern. He was bad, that much was obvious to her, even without taking into account what he’d done to Bonnie. But he didn’t make her skin crawl as much as Mosley did. So that was something. Unlike Mosley he was just loud and obnoxious.

Tommy and McCavern shook on their deal, and Tommy poured them all a drink.

“In the firelight, your hair looks like the color of blood, love,” McCavern whispered in her ear, breath tickling her neck as he leaned down to pick up his cup. Lucy tensed, fingers tightening around her own mug. McCavern chuckled and pulled away. From across the table, Tommy’s jaw tightened, clearly having taken notice of the encounter.

But he said nothing. 

She understood why. McCavern was volatile; their peace pact fragile. He couldn’t be risking upending that all just over a half flirtatious remark.  

But still, it stung. 

Maybe he didn’t really see her as someone worth expending the effort to protect anymore. 

“You’ll use the cheque guarantee from Mosley to officially connect him to McCavern,” she guessed after McCavern and his men had left. 

“Yeah.”

She nodded, raising her drink to her lips.

“I’m going inside,” Charlie announced, standing. He gave Lucy a pat on the shoulder as he passed her and they said their goodnights. And then it was just her and Tommy again. 

Tommy cleared his throat. “Are you still coming to the ballet tomorrow evening?”

She swiped a hand across her face. It was Lizzie’s birthday tomorrow, and in celebration, he was having a private ballet company come to his house to put on a production of Swan Lake. A ballet about love, apparently.

A particularly paranoid part of her brain wondered if they’d chosen a romantic ballet specifically to rub her nose in it. 

Jealousy pulsed through her. Lizzie always got the big, grand public displays of love and affection. She got to go to fancy theater productions with him, and expensive restaurants. When he won awards and made speeches, she often got mentioned by name in his thanks towards those who had helped him get where he had in life. And at every lavish function, she got to be on his arm.

Even before she’d moved out, Lucy had always been relegated to the shadows. Their relationship could never be known publicly. Their dinner dates were at home, where no one could see them. Or maybe the rare picnic out in the wilderness. Assuming they had the time for dates at all. He’d never be able to throw an extravagant party in her honor.

Looking down at her hands, she frowned. “Wasn’t sure if I was still invited.”

Tommy looked at her sharply. “Of course you're invited.”

“I’d hate to ruin Lizzie’s birthday with my presence.”

“You won’t. She knows you’re invited.” His brows pinched. “She made sure that an invitation got sent to you herself.”

The furrow in Lucy’s brow only deepened. Why the fuck would she do that? Maybe she was trying to remind her of her place. To make sure that she saw the massive effort that Tommy had gone to for her.  

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to come if you really don’t want to, but…” Tommy wetted his lips, looking uncomfortable. 

“Mosley’s coming,” she finished for him. 

“Yes.”

“And you want me to come babysit him.”

“Not…babysit. But I might need you for any business we may conduct while he’s there.”

Of course. He didn’t want her there to enjoy herself. He wanted her there to work. Silly her. 

God, when did you get so bitter? she asked herself, cringing at her thoughts.

“I’ll be there. Don’t worry.”

Tommy exhaled. “Thank you.”

“Mhm.”

“I might not be able to come pick you up with all the preparations that need to happen, but I’ll send a driver.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll ask Polly if she can drive me.”

His brows shot up nearly to his hairline. “You want to ride to Warwickshire with Polly?”

“Want is a strong word. But it’ll free up one of your drivers to go pick up some of the other guests. Besides, she’s been a little nicer to me lately. I think Aberama’s been putting in a good word for me.”

He examined her for a long time. “If that’s what you're comfortable with.”

She nodded. 

They stayed there for a while, both looking out towards the darkness of the canal. 

“I need to be getting back,” Tommy sighed. His hands had slipped into his pockets at some point. 

“Okay.” 

He made a move as if to approach her, then stopped. The soft glow of the lanterns cast sharp shadows across his face. She could just barely make out the reflection in his eyes. 

“Good night, then.”

Before she could reply, he started to walk away, the darkness that surrounded them seeming to swallow him up once he passed the touch of the lanterns. 

She stared out into the dark. 

No kiss. No I love you. No touch.

“Good night,” she whispered. Even though he was already gone.

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[marauders-bs]

part 2! part one part pre

TW THIS CONTAINS WALBURGA, deadnaming, internalized transphobia, suicide joke (it's dorcas and barty)

@r0seprincess it's late but we love the meadowes family :3

Now, Dorcas was in the Ravenclaw common room. The straw-haired boy, Barty, was draped across a couch while the twins were lying on the ground. Regulus was there too, only just entering the scene as the memory began.

"Barty," Regulus said, unwrapping a scarf from his neck. "Please tell me why the riddles to get in to this tower are so easy."

"They're not supposed to be," Barty replied. "Also, your hair's getting long, Cas. You want me to cut it?"

"And have to make a hair growth potion because you can't even cut your own hair? I think not, Junior," Dorcas responded, grabbing a Potions book out of her bag. Regulus walked over to lean behind her chair. In a voice Hermione could only hear because it was Dorcas's memory, he began to list off everything that needed to be changed about the potion.

A look out the window told Hermione that it was now winter.

Harry drifted over to her, nudging her arm. "Did you hear what Dorcas called him?" he asked. "Junior. His name is Barty. D'you think that's Barty Crouch Junior?"

"Probably," Hermione answered. "What about it?"

"He seems normal," Harry responded. "I wasn't expecting that."

-

"I'm gonna study," Regulus announced before the scene really came into focus.

"Reg, with love and respect, it's not even six in the morning yet," Dorcas said. Looking around, Hermione saw that they appeared to be in some kind of common room, but not one Hermione had ever seen.

"Yeah, and?" Regulus asked. "Bat left an hour ago."

"Bat does that," Dorcas said. "You don't. If you want to visit your brother, you can just say that."

"I don't want to see him," Regulus said. "I'm going to study."

"I'm sure you are," Dorcas replied. "Are you going home for Christmas?"

"I don't want to," Regulus said, eyes downcast.

Hermione could actually see the moment when every instinct that raising her siblings had given Dorcas kicked in. "Hey, Reg. Write your parents, see if they'll let you stay at my place for Christmas and maybe the summer."

Regulus's face brightened immediately. "Yeah, I'll do that."

-

The next scene showed Dorcas, hair up in a bun with Jasper riding piggyback, walking towards the door. Someone had very clearly just knocked.

"Good morning, Dorcas," a smooth, rich voice said. Hermione recognized the woman as Walburga Black. "My Ascella informed me that it was alright for her to stay with you?"

Hermione exchanged a mystified glance with the other two before the kid behind Walburga was revealed.

Regulus Black was standing there, in a dress, with long hair, looking distinctly panicked.

Dorcas, however, responded smoothly, addressing Walburga, then Regulus. "Of course. You're always welcome here, no matter what."

"Fantastic," Walburga said, satisfied smile on her face. "Go on, Ascella. You can stay here the summer, as well."

The second she was gone, Dorcas set Jasper down and wrapped her arms around Regulus. "It's alright, Regulus," Dorcas murmured. She put her hands to his shoulders, holding him at arms' length. "Sweet Salazar, boy, you're like a twig. We'll have that fixed in no time. Come on, you can meet my family."

Hermione knew that Dorcas was providing a distraction as she handed June to Regulus and directed Ari to grab the spice rack out of the cupboard. She waved a hand, and Regulus's hair and outfit changed. Suddenly, his hair was the length it had been in the previous memory and he was wearing a black jumper and Muggle jeans.

"Do you know how to bake?" she asked, but Regulus stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"Do you not care?" he whispered. "Do you not care that I'm sick and wrong and- and-"

"Shh, Reg," Dorcas said, wrapping him in a hug. "You're not any of those things. If you want, we can go find my mother's old book of Greek mythology and see which Greek god decided to screw over people like you- I think it was Apollo, but I could be wrong."

Regulus looked up at her. "Yeah."

But instead of moving, he just buried his face in Dorcas's shoulder. June latched on to their legs, then Astra and Jasper, and then Ari followed.

That was where the scene whirled on.

-

"Alright, Dorcas, we're leaving you in charge!" Dorcas's grandmother called. "Pandora, Evan, and Barty should be arriving soon- send us an owl when they get here."

"Yep," Dorcas replied, not looking up from the magical mixer. Hermione knew that magical cooking things really couldn't be trusted in the seventies, and it wasn't like Dorcas to trust anything other than herself and maybe her friends.

Sure enough, not thirty seconds after Ari, June, Astra, Jasper, and their grandparents left out the front door, Barty showed up in the fire, whirling in the green.

"Hey," Dorcas said, still not looking up.

"Damn," Barty said. "This place actually looks like someone lives in it."

"That was my thought, too," Regulus said. "Whatever. The twins are staying until Yule Break is over and so am I."

"Me too," Barty said, answering the unspoken question. "Well, Cassie looks very invested, so would you show me around her house?"

"Kill yourself, Crouch," Dorcas said without looking up.

"Rather not," Barty called as Regulus led him away. Dorcas shook her head and laughed a little. Hermione had to wonder if she or Regulus had noticed the fresh bruise on Barty's face and just not mentioned it out of respect, or if they knew and were waiting to grill him on it. She wondered how he had gotten it.

The twins came through next, Evan spinning onto the kitchen floor, immediately followed by Pandora. Dorcas pointed them down the hallway.

"What's down the hallway, your torture dungeon?" Pandora asked.

"Regulus and Barty are already here and getting their rooms. We've only got two to spare, so you boys will be sharing and Dora and I can share," Dorcas replied, turning off the mixer with a wave of her hand and sending it into a piping bag.

Evan nodded and the two of them left. A fast few minutes of Dorcas organizing what looked to be cookies and frosting by color and size. Hermione drifted over, and what she saw made her heart swell. Dorcas had baked cookies in traditional Christmas and Yuletide shapes, snowflakes and ornaments and even little gingerbread men.

It was the sweetest thing Hermione had seen Dorcas do. For the most part, she seemed to keep to herself, but this showed how much she valued her friends even in the few months they'd known each other.

It also showed her how sad Dorcas must have been. Ari was young enough that Dorcas would have raised him and the others for most of her life, and a year without anyone relying on her had to be a shock to the system. It was clear she'd immediately adopted Pandora, Evan, Barty and Regulus.

Soon enough, the four came into the kitchen. Pandora was talking animatedly in Barty's direction, and Regulus and Evan were speaking quietly just behind them.

"Dorcas, what's this?" Barty asked, coming up behind her where she was adding tips to piping bags by hand.

"Cookies for decorating," Dorcas answered. "The kids love eating them and I hate decorating, so I thought we could struggle together."

Evan smiled, grabbing a bag of white icing and a snowflake-shaped cookie. He began to pipe icing designs, and Regulus followed his lead with red icing and a Santa hat. Barty and Pandora shrugged at each other, and Barty picked up a star. Pandora picked up a gingerbread man.

Hermione smiled at the scene. Dorcas finished putting the tip on the final bag and began to decorate a cookie in between Regulus and Barty, all of them smiling and joking with Muggle Christmas carols playing softly in the backround.

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

here to stay | rhett abbott x oc

Summary: Tessa comes across the high school rodeo team sweatshirt that Rhett donated to the Boys' Home - and decides to keep it for herself. (wc: 3401)

Warnings: background ocs, no actual rhett in this chapter, a flashback

✎……PREVIOUS CHAPTER || MASTERLIST || NEXT CHAPTER

Rhett hooked his forefinger beneath her chin and her breath hitched in her throat. Got caught on something like yearning as he wiped at her chin with his thumb. The edge of those rough calluses brushing against her bottom lip. 

It was everything she wanted when she was fifteen. He wanted her. Looked down at her now with blue eyes so soft and wondering, mouth ticked up in some smirk only slightly cocky. He swiped his thumb over her chin a second time, pulled in closer to her, made it feel like he was the only other person there. The sounds of chattering children and cars as they drove by were drowned out by the rushing sound in her ears. The pit in her stomach burst into flames, roaring and all-consuming as she felt the heat coming off of Rhett’s body. So close. So wanting. 

He wanted her. She wanted him back. Even after what happened at the bonfire. With his laugh so soft and smell of freshly ground feed and open sincerity. And wasn’t that everything she desired? To want and be wanted in return?

But just like that, the moment was over. He retracted his hand and pulled away from her. Tessa looked up from the bucking bronco on his shirt to his face. Some fear there she recognized from the general store.

“M’sorry ‘bout las’night. I think y’re one helluva girl and I just…M’sorry I’made ya uncomfortable, s’all. Wasn’t my intention.” 

His mouth opened and closed, those crystalline blue eyes widening as he stared at her. He thought he messed up again. Made her uncomfortable. That she would bolt from him again at any second. But there was no room for fear. No frigid wind to put out the flame. She didn’t know what had changed. Maybe it was seeing a side of Rhett that was entirely unexpected to her. That he would apologize for coming on too strong. That he would take his niece out for ice cream and watch Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles with her. That he would reveal to a girl he couldn’t remember the name of a week ago that he used to pretend he was a cowboy in his front yard. Whatever it was, this didn’t feel fleeting, in the moment. 

With Rhett, right now, it felt complete. 

And sorrow may have still been inevitable, in her experience it surely was, but it was a risk she was willing to take. 

So she opened her mouth and spoke quietly, “D’you get it?”

“Uh-huh,” he muttered back, a relieved smirk on his face as he licked his thumb clean. “Tastes good.”

But then he was leaving. Gathering his niece under his arm and giving Tessa a reluctant goodbye with a sad kind of smile. And she let him go.

Unconsciously, she reached up and touched her chin, her bottom lip. She could still feel his touch against her skin. Warm and rough and so gentle all at once. Something she hadn’t felt since high school fluttered around in her stomach as she grinned beyond her control. Bit her lip to try and hide it as she felt her cheeks heat. Just from the memory of being touched by him — of being the center of his attention.

It was everything her fifteen year old self dreamed of. Wrote about in her diary she still had tucked away on a shelf back home. Somewhere deep inside, she could even feel that teenage girl squealing and giggling and kicking her feet. 

But was it what her twenty-three year old self wanted? Dreamed of? Wanting to be wanted was not the same as wanting. As desiring to be around someone all the time and longing for them to know the innermost parts of her like the back of their hand. To know the innermost parts of them in return, no matter how messy. To see it and love it and want to build with it. With them. With Rhett? She didn’t know.

Her life was complicated and busy. Haunted by a living ghost of who she would become. Determined to change her fate. And yet terrified to do it. Her efforts so far had led to nothing but understandable heartbreak and defeat. Too many schedule changes and cancellations. Not enough time spent with the person she thought she could maybe desire if given long enough. But she was never given long enough.

She was never enough to try for. To stick it out and wait and hope. Would Rhett be willing to wait? To try? Just to be with her? His whispered reputation around bar tables and over the back of salon chairs wasn’t promising. According to Laney, he’s slept with more women than she can count. Warm bodies to scratch an itch and satisfy a carnal desire and then left with empty promises of a phone call. To Tessa, it sounded like a lonely existence. One she wasn’t sure she entirely believed either. He seemed too kind and too sincere for it to be the whole truth. 

“M’sorry ‘bout las’night. I think y’re one helluva girl and I just…M’sorry I’made ya uncomfortable, s’all. Wasn’t my intention.” 

Someone whose sole intention was to sleep with her wouldn’t say that. Wouldn’t go so far to apologize in person and then keep talking to her after. Reveal secret pieces of himself to her.

Rhett Abbott was turning out to be far more confusing than she thought he ever could be. The boy she crushed so hard on in high school she cried over it. The bull rider who forgot her name. The man who invited her to bonfires and came on too strong and listened. A puzzle with pieces so jagged and random they surely didn’t fit together. But some part of her was determined to figure it out.

Even if it meant breaking her own heart in the process.

“That y’r boyfriend’r somethin’?” a cracking voice asked suddenly. 

Tessa jumped as she looked over to see Wyatt sitting down beside her on the bench. Shaggy black hair falling in his eyes  — she needed to get him in for a haircut soon. If he even let her. He was shorter for his age, scrawny with bones sticking out even though he ate enough to feed three people most days. He looked pleased that he had been able to scare her as he settled into his seat. 

“No,” she replied, hand over her heart as if that would stop its rapid beating. “Rhett’s a friend. His niece Amy n‘ Jace’re in the same class.”

Wyatt didn’t respond. Suddenly disinterested as he poked his thin fingers into the holes in the metal table. Jace sat on the bench seat beside them, possibly pretending his spoon was an airplane and his empty ice cream bowl was either a target or a boat to land on. 

Tessa looked over her shoulder to see Colton still across the street with all his friends. Laughing and attempting tricks on his skateboard. She turned back to Wyatt. “Why aren’t ya with Colton n’them?”

“They…They didn’really talk t’me, so…” 

She had to stop herself from tsking, from reaching over and pushing his hair out of his eyes and laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. She knew this was going to happen. They were all older than Wyatt by several years. All high schoolers while he was still in middle school. At least they hadn’t made fun of him or teased him. At least he didn’t say they did, anyway. 

It was hard to make friends while living in the Boys’ Home. Regimented schedules and fairly strict policies about any of the boys being out of the house on their own. Tessa knew it was for their own good. Living in the Home made for a safe space for them to live and learn and grow. A place where their needs could be met and problems could be solved. A place where she hoped each of them felt cared for and loved. Despite the hindrances to their social lives.

“Wanna play finger football?” she asked, eyebrows raised as she took the ice cream cone wrapper she was going to throw away and began folding it into a triangle. 

Wyatt shrugged. “Sure.”  

“Can I play?” Jace quickly jumped in to ask, dropping his spoon with a clatter. 

“You can keep score f’r now,” she replied as she finished folding the wrapper. “Play the winner when we’re done.” 

They played for a few minutes. Wyatt beat her soundly at the game that was really all hand-eye coordination (of which Tessa severely lacked), and then he beat Jace too. Who grumbled at his loss, lip sticking out as he set his chin down on his arms crossed on top of the table. And Tessa smiled when Wyatt offered to give him a few pointers when they got home. 

It amazed her sometimes how tight-knight the boys were. They were nearly like brothers. Supported one another and fought with one another like them too. Older ones helping the younger and always looking out for one another at school. They stuck together, and for it Tessa was grateful. It was hard going through life when you lived in a place like that. At so young. A constant reminder and marker for the rest of the world to see that you were…Unwanted. That there was something wrong with you.

There was nothing wrong with any of them. Puzzles that needed to be figured out, pieces that needed to be found. And she hoped they knew they were wanted. They were cared for. They were loved. Maybe not by the people who should have been doing those things. But by someone. By her. 

When they came back to the Boys’ Home, the smell of pot roast permeated the air. Tessa took in a great lungful of the scent and breathed out a sigh. Something like nostalgia and longing hit her in the chest. It was her mother’s recipe, a smell that reminded her of home. Not even just the place, but the feeling. 

“Alright, if y’re homework’s not done hop to it — n’if it is, I need ya t’show it t’me so we can go over it together, alright?” Tessa told the three boys as they ran past her in the entry hall, making a beeline for their shared room with the other two who didn’t get to go out for ice cream. 

All three of them gave some vague noise of agreement before they disappeared from her sight. She laughed with a shake of her head as she walked further into the house.

The Amelia County Boys’ Home was built in 1886 as just a residential home. A grand Victorian settled in the newly established Wabang, Wyoming — then a booming oil town. The house one Walter Granger had built when he and his wife first got married. They were together only five years before he died. Left widowed, with more money than she knew what to do with, and no children of her own, Abigail Granger decided to convert her home into a place for troubled and orphaned children.

By the time the Home was nearing its 100th anniversary, it was bought by the state. Out of private funds and Abigail Granger dead for nearly twenty years. But its legacy was one that permeated the town, the county, the whole state even. Boys were sent from all over for well over 100 years to live and learn there. Boys whose parents couldn’t take care of them for a while, boys with behavior issues, boys who had nowhere else to go.

June Abernathy volunteered there when Tessa was young — before Tessa was born. And maybe that’s what made her youngest daughter fall in love with the place. Or maybe it was some innate sense of caring. Generosity. Charity. That made her want to work there since she was twelve years old. Most kids wanted to be astronauts or work at zoos or be doctors — but not Tessa. The only thing she ever wanted to be was a social worker, before she even knew what the title was. It was her calling. Her destiny. 

Even if that destiny forged some weight on her shoulders that never seemed to go away. Some weariness that had sunk into her bones. One that, most days, she forgot about. But others…But others it became impossible to ignore. Brought tears to her eyes and a pathetic whine to rise in her throat like she was a toddler throwing a tantrum. Because there was never enough time. Never enough of her to go around. To carry around her own and the baggage of five boys whose lives had been harder than most was a burden no one person should have to bear. 

But Tessa did it gladly. Because it was what she always wanted.

Right?

After checking the pot roast, Tessa went to the living room where more clothing donations waited for her to sort and fold. Grabbing the box on top of the pile, she sat down on one of the couches to begin. The background noise of the boys talking, the old house creaking, and birds chirping outside permeated the air. She hoped and prayed, as she grabbed the hoodie from the top of the box, the rest of the weekend would go as smoothly as the morning had. Linda was leaving soon for her days off — it would just be Tessa in a house full of pubescent and pre-pubescent boys. Always a herculean task, one that left her feeling more ragged than usual, but one that gave her time to grow closer to the boys under her care.

Before she could truly inspect the sweatshirt for stains or holes, Levi walked into the room with his hands shoved in his own hoodie pockets. The seventeen year old wore clothes like they were meant to cover something. Meant to hide in. Big hoodies and t-shirts. He was shorter than Colton, pale and all sharp angles. Inside and out.

The cut above his eyebrow was healing well. Just a dark red line now, scabbed over and healing itself, instead of the bright crimson it had been. But the bruise around his eye still looked gnarly. Purple and angry, swelling his lids shut slightly.

Another fight at school that left Linda furious.

But Tessa just felt some heavy weight in her chest.

“Feelin’ okay?” she asked as he flopped down into the armchair across from her.

“M’face hurts,” he grumbled back, revealing a red knuckled hand to card it through his jet black hair. Then he sighed. “N’so does m’head.”

“Wan’some ibuprofen?”

“Yeah.” He paused, finally looking up at her with those spring-grain green eyes. “Please.”

Tessa smiled, small and soft, before she put back the sweatshirt and went to the kitchen. A minute later, she handed Levi a glass of water and two little red pills. He swallowed them without drinking anything.

Sitting back down on the couch she asked, “Wanna talk’bout it?”

“No’really,” he said, clenching his jaw.

Tessa bit her lip. Busied her hands with the donated hoodie again, looking it over for longer than she should but not really paying attention as she chose her next words carefully.

“Principle called ya know. Told me wha’happened,” she spoke gently, calmly, making sure he sensed no anger or disappointment. “That some other kid was gettin’ beat up n’you stepped in.”

Levi wouldn’t look at her. Worked his jaw back and forth as his leg bounced anxiously. He always had been an angry kid. It was why he was at the Home in the first place. Too many fights in his hometown. His single mother didn’t know what to do — didn’t know how to handle him. And maybe didn’t want to handle him. A kid with so much anger, made only angier that no one seemed to care. No one seemed to want to try. To stick around.

Tessa hoped he knew that she wanted to try. Wanted to stick around.

“I wan’you t’know…” she started slowly, “Fightin’ isn’t always th’answer. N’t’be honest, if ya keep it up, y’ll end up someplace worse than a Boy’s Home. N’there won’be anythin’ I c’n do t’stop it.”

He finally looked at her. A hint of fear in that green eye that Tessa hoped sunk to the heart.

“But uh — I am proud’a ya…For standin’ up f’r that kid.”

The corner of his mouth ticked up as he looked back to his lap. Tessa smiled too. 

“Ll’try, Tess,” he mumbled. “I don’...I don’ wanna leave.” 

Some of that weight lifted from her chest as he walked out of the room, back to the boys room. Tessa smiled again, proud of herself for getting through to him, when she finally acknowledge the donation hoodie she had been messing with for the past few minutes.

It was an Amelia County High School Rodeo team sweatshirt. Sage green and faded with time and good use. The sleeves were frayed and dotted with small holes. It had seen a good few years. She grinned as she took in the bucking bronco logo with a cowboy clinging to the saddle. One hand raised in the air with a lasso twirling above his head. 

She thought back to Rhett Abbott, her cheeks warming. 

A group of them snuck down to the hotel pool past their curfew. They were supposed to be in bed, sleeping and preparing for the round of rides and ropings set for tomorrow morning. But that didn’t seem to matter to any of them just then. When it was ten o’clock and they were hours away from home. Their chaperones none the wiser as they snuck out of their rooms in their swimsuits. Giggling and whispering and quietly squealing to one another.

Tessa sat at the edge of the pool, feet ankle deep in the cool water with Taylor Goyer at her side. A fellow barrel racer, two older than her, and one of the team captains. If she was down here with the rest of the delinquents surely it was okay.

Taylor was telling her something about a movie she watched recently. Something about magicians and card tricks and stealing money. But Tessa wasn’t really paying attention. Instead, she was focused on the group of bull riders huddled together at the other end of the pool.

Rhett Abbot was one of them. He was thin and baby faced and his hair was slicked back from the water but he was still handsome. Even in that horrible hotel pool light. He shone with the water still clinging to him, laughing at something one of the other guys said. She had never seen him shirtless before. And it made something stick in her throat that she couldn’t quite get rid of. 

“Who’re you lookin’ at? Dalton?” Taylor broke her out of her revere. 

“Um — “ Tessa shook her head as she looked back at her friend. “No one. Jus’got lost’n space I’guess.”  

Taylor took the excuse with narrowed eyes, jumping right back in and telling Tessa that she should watch the movie she was talking about. And Tessa looked back at Rhett one last time as he grabbed Alyssa Harrod around the calves and pulled her into the pool.

She wondered if he would pull her into the pool now. If he would wrap his arms around her waist and try to pull her under to ruin her hair. She shook her head and scoffed quietly. 

What a ridiculous thought. She was an adult now. Grown out of wanting to be teased that way. But still, some part of her that was still fifteen, wanted it desperately.

With a sigh, she turned the sweatshirt around, and her eyes widened.

Abbott was iron pressed onto the back in block white letters. Most of them were peeled up and fading, but that last name was still clear as day. She remembered seeing that sweatshirt on Alyssa Harrod. On Olivia Barlow. It was a stamp. A seal. A claiming back in high school. They were seeing Rhett Abbott, and all that that meant.

The hoodie couldn’t be a donation. It had a name on it, the boys couldn’t wear it. So, indulging her fifteen year old self just this once, Tessa got up from the couch with the article of clothing clutched in her hands.

And stuffed it into her closet.

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[queenjunothegreat]

Did someone ask for their January Sunday to include some silly fluffy Christmas fic? No? That's fine, I brought it anyway. You're welcome. <3 We're actually getting to the Christmas events this chapter, so get excited about that! ヽ(*⌒▽⌒*)ﾉ 

Anywho, I am happy to finally have for you chapter two of Where the Love Light Gleams: The Prettiest Sight to See

“Just in time!” Piper called from the stove, flipping her last pancake onto the big serving plate she had in the other hand. She turned to Jason and gestured at the table where Reyna was already waiting. “Go on and take a seat.” “Before I do, there was something I wanted to ask you guys,” Jason said. “There was a surprise change of plans, and I won’t be going to California. I know we only talked about me staying for a few days last night, but I have the whole month off from work, and I was wondering if you would be open to me extending my stay for that length of time.” There was a beat of silence before a loud CRASH filled the room, Piper having dropped her plate of pancakes to clap her hands to her cheeks, looking beyond delighted. “Really?”

First

 When Jason woke up, he had about two seconds to breathe before a wave of bone-deep panic washed over him because he didn't know where he was. He certainly wasn’t at home. The bedroom he knew was gunmetal gray with floor to ceiling blackout curtains over the one measly window, and there were two pillows and a plain black comforter from IKEA on the bed. It certainly didn’t have hand-made quilts with kitschy patterns or stuffed rabbits with wobbly crochet stitches or enough throw pillows that he was almost surprised he hadn’t suffocated. He didn’t know where he was, which meant he’d fallen asleep in a stranger’s home, and if there was one thing Jason Grace didn’t do, it was fall asleep in stranger’s homes. 

Only, that’s exactly what he’d done, wasn’t it? Well, not quite, but still.

He groaned as he sat up, the night before washing over him, one awful memory at a time. Driving for twenty hours, losing control of his car when the transmission suddenly gave out, standing there helplessly while a couple of strangers towed him out of the snowbank, then snapping at the poor mechanic who’d done nothing but offer him some undeserved sympathy. Leo. That was his name. He’d driven Jason across town to his sister’s bed and breakfast. She’d met them at the door in her pajamas and a Hello Kitty robe. Her eyes shone with concern, but she’d just given him a wide, eager smile like he was an expected guest instead of someone who’d woken her up and invaded her home in the middle of the night. He was pretty sure she’d given him her name at some point during her midnight tour, but with everything else that had happened, it had slipped his mind, which he felt more than a little guilty about. 

Jason got to his feet and pulled on the thick house robe that hung next to his bed. His host had warned him that it could get very cold, so he was better off being prepared with layers and a good pair of slippers. The slippers he had, but when he’d pulled a thin cotton bathrobe out of his suitcase for inspection, she’d wrinkled her nose and shoved an armful of plush fleece at him, insisting he’d thank her before too long. He stretched, then made his way out into the hall, trying his best to remember the path to the kitchen he’d been shown the night before. 

After more than a few wrong turns, he found his host, stirring a pot on the stove while batter sizzled in the skillet next to her. Just like she had the night before, she was in her flannel pajama pants and her luridly pink robe, and when she heard Jason approach, she grinned at him over her shoulder. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

Jason chuckled awkwardly. “Uh, yeah. Good morning. What time is it?”

“Almost ten.” 

Jason choked on air. “Ten?” he spluttered. “Like, the hour that comes after nine? I slept in that late?”

His host laughed casually and shrugged. “That’s how all the clocks I’ve ever used worked. And don’t stress about oversleeping; I totally get it. Leo said you were more than a little sleep deprived last night. I probably would have stayed in bed til dinner if I was in your shoes.”

Jason just hummed and nodded. He figured there was no need to be weighing down a stranger’s morning by telling her about how he’d been physically unable to sleep past 7:30 since he was in high school, especially after she’d already shown him such kindness. Speaking of. “I’m sorry, I think you told me your name last night, but I didn’t catch it.”

Fortunately, she didn’t seem offended in the slightest, and just turned around to properly face Jason, her smile still solidly in place as she offered him a handshake. “My name’s Piper. Piper McLean. Welcome to Cabin Ten.”

“So, that’s the name of this place?” Jason asked, shaking her hand. “Any reason why?”

“It’s kinda silly, actually,” Piper admitted. “When we were designing this place, I came up with probably fifty different plans. This was idea number ten, so my wife suggested we just call it Cabin Ten and the name stuck. I don’t think she was serious, though. I’m pretty sure she was just trying to make sure I didn’t get caught up in my own head again.”

Jason huffed out a little laugh and smiled at her. “Will I get a chance to meet your wife?”

Piper nodded, her smile turning soft at the mere thought of this mystery woman. “Yeah, she should be in soon. She runs the local animal shelter, so she goes in to check on things every morning, but she should be home soon.” As if on cue, Jason heard the front door open and click shut, and Piper’s whole face lit up. “In fact, here she is now! Rey–”

“Jason Grace? Is it really you?”

Jason stiffened, then whirled around on his heel, and he felt the air get knocked right out of his lungs. He hadn’t seen that face in years. Had assumed he never would again. “Reyna?”

Reyna tossed her head back in a loud, very undignified laugh before she stepped forward and wrapped Jason up in a hug. Jason didn’t hug her back. Even if he wanted to, she’d pinned his arms to his sides, and even if she hadn’t he was frozen completely still. “Jason! It’s good to see you.”

“Reyna? What’s going on?”

Jason and Reyna both turned to see Piper watching them with obvious interest. Reyna smiled at her and held out her hand, which Piper immediately filled with her own so Reyna could press a kiss to her knuckles in a practiced motion before she explained. “This is Jason Grace.”

“I’m aware,” Piper teased, amusement clear in her tone. “I still haven’t figured out why you know that, though.”

“We, uh, knew each other in high school,” Jason stammered, still trying to reboot his brain.

“We were best friends, in fact,” Reyna corrected. “When Hylla and I left California, I assumed I would never get to see him again. I’m glad to be wrong.”

Piper’s eyes got bright and eager and she turned on Jason. “So, you knew Reyna back in high school? What was she like? She refuses to tell me any of the stuff she got up to back then.”

That’s because she didn’t do anything, Jason thought to himself. Back then, Reyna went to school, attended the extracurriculars her father signed her up for, then went home, same as Jason. The only reason they were friends at all was because nobody else was willing to talk to the weirdly quiet kids who took everything too seriously. “She was…” Jason trailed off and looked Reyna over, starting from her messy braid and the smile lines already starting to crease around her eyes down to her worn thin t-shirt and finally to the mismatched socks sticking out of the muddy work boots she was wearing inside. “She was definitely different.”

“I am that,” Reyna confirmed easily. Her eyes flicked over Jason’s face, and her smile tilted ever so slightly downwards into a frown. “And what about you? How have you changed?”

Jason suddenly wanted to throw up, though he couldn’t truly say why. He swallowed the bile burning at the back of his throat and forced a smile. “Me? Change? Of course not. I’m still the same old Jason Grace I’ve always been.”

The concerned tilt to Reyna’s lips deepened. She opened her mouth to say something, but her nose twitched like a rabbit’s, and her brow furrowed. “Is something burning?”

Piper’s eyes went wide and her face paled. “My pancakes!” she squealed, whirling around on her heel to desperately try and save the breakfast she’d made. When failure was more than obvious, she puffed out her cheeks at Reyna. “You distracted me!”

 Reyna stepped up to her side and grimaced down at what was probably closer to charcoal than breakfast at this point. She gave Piper a somewhat sheepish smile. “My apologies.”

Piper very dramatically huffed and rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Go put on non-dog-clothes. You shouldn’t smell bad in front of guests.”

“Yes, dear,” Reyna hummed, pressing a kiss to Piper’s temple. On her way out of the kitchen, she stopped and gave Jason an incredibly warm smile. “It’s good to see you again, Jason.”

“You, too,” Jason said automatically, unsure if he meant it. Reyna seemed to pick up on that because her smile turned a little sad, but she simply left the room instead of saying anything. 

“Oh, before I forget! Leo came by this morning, while you were still asleep. He couldn’t stay long, but he wanted me to tell you something,” Piper said suddenly, playing a very dangerous game by leaving her pan unattended for the second time. “He said that it would take about a week to get your car fixed.”

Jason winced and rubbed a hand over his face. “A week? Really? There’s no way he can get it done any sooner than that?”

Piper shook her head sympathetically. “Afraid not. I asked that, too. Apparently, he’s already calling in a couple favors, but it’s still gonna take at least four days to get the part in. He’s hoping to get the actual work done in just a day or two, but apparently Audis are really tricky to work on.”

Jason sighed heavily. That wasn’t the first time he’d heard that claim, and he knew how hard it was to get the parts, unless you were a licensed dealer, which Jason highly doubted Leo was. “Okay. Well, I’ve got a phone call to make, in that case.” He cut a glance down at the pancakes, then back up at Piper’s face. “Should I make an effort to come back down for breakfast or…?”

Piper’s cheeks went pink, and she blew a raspberry at him. “My pancakes are very good, and you should count yourself lucky to have them, Jason Grace. Breakfast will be ready in ten minutes.” She glanced down at the charcoal hockey pucks she’d made, and grimaced. “Okay, make that fifteen.”

Jason huffed out a quiet laugh. “Okay, okay. I’ll be back for your pancakes; which will be wonderful, I’m sure.” 

Before Piper could protest the injury to her breakfast-making pride, Jason ducked out of the kitchen and into the hall. He got turned around a few times, but soon he was back in his assigned room, and he took a seat at the big, solid oak desk tucked away into a little alcove in the room. There was a window right above it, and Jason could see softly-falling snowflakes drifting through the air outside. He could also see the rest of town properly, now that he wasn’t driving through it after all the lights had been turned out. It looked like a Christmas card, or a set prop from a Hallmark movie. Christmas lights were strung up between all of the lamps, and there wasn’t a flat surface that didn’t bear a wreath or an obnoxiously large bow. Jason couldn’t help but curl his lip slightly at the sight.

Instead of dwelling, he took out his phone and called Thalia, who picked up on the third ring. “Jason? What’s going on?”

“Hey, Thalia. It’s about the trip,” Jason started, heaving a heavy sigh.

Surprisingly, Thalia sighed as well, though she sounded almost relieved. “Funny, I was actually about to call you about that, too.”

“Oh. Go ahead then.”

“No, you.”

“Okay.” Jason cleared his throat. “So, I’m gonna be late getting there. Like, a week late. I managed to mess up my car just outside of this little town in Oklahoma, and it won’t be fixed for at least five days. I could just rent a car or something, but I’d really rather avoid that, if I can. Outside of that, though, I’m stuck here. I did already call the cleaners, and the house should be ready for you whenever you get there. I did also set up a meeting with Dakota and Gwen on the eighth, but I can reschedule, if you’d rather wait until I’m there as well. I know you said you don’t want lawyers, and they’re not lawyers. They actually run a funeral home, but they have some experience with stuff like this, and they agreed to give us an overview of what to expect. That sound good?”

Thalia didn’t say anything. In fact, she was so silent, that Jason thought that maybe his call had dropped. He pulled the phone away from his ear, but saw that it was still live, so he pressed it back to his face with a frown. “Lia? You there?”

Thalia swallowed so heavily Jason could hear it from across the two states that separated them. “You drove?”

Jason frowned, brow furrowed. “Yeah, why?”

“I– I had just assumed you’d fly is all.”

“Okay. But I didn’t. Why does that matter?”

Thalia went silent for a moment before she let out a quiet, wounded sound. “Jason, I’m so sorry.”

Jason immediately felt his heart plummet past his feet and even down past Piper cooking away in the kitchen. “You’re not coming. At all.” It wasn’t a question, it didn’t need to be.

“I’m sorry,” Thalia repeated. “But– But last night, Zoë was approached by Lady Artemis. She’s on tour this month, and she said she needed an opener because her other act fell through. I– We couldn’t just say no, Jason.”

“I get it,” Jason said, tone flat. 

“Jason–”

“No, I really get it, Thalia. It’s fine,” Jason insisted. “You– You and the rest of the band have fun, okay? I’ll take care of the estate, and keep you updated on any significant progress.”

“Jason, I–”

“Sorry, Thalia, but I’ve got to go,” Jason lied. “I wound up at this bed and breakfast and the host is really pushy. I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”

Before Thalia could offer another protest, he hung up on her. He tossed his phone on his desk and buried his face in his hands. Great. He was going to have to deal with all this himself. 

No, you don’t! a little voice in his head reminded him. Thalia was the one who didn’t want lawyers involved, and she’s not here. You can make this someone else’s problem.

Well, that was a relief, at least. With one phone call, he could just let Octavian deal with this, like he’d wanted to from the start. Octavian could be a rat bastard when he wanted to be, and he’d probably cheat them out of one thing or another, but Jason didn’t care. Octavian could take the lot, if he wanted it, and Jason would still pay him to handle it. So, that just left him with a month of vacation and nothing to do with it. The smart thing to do would be to go back to New York City, inform his department head about the change in plans, and go back to work like nothing had ever happened. For some reason, though, the thought made his skin crawl. He glanced around the cluttered, brightly colored room, then thought back to his sad, monochrome apartment, and his throat tightened in something close to panic, which he forcibly swallowed down.

You could just stay here, that same little voice from before suggested. You’re already going to be here for a week, might as well make the most of your time off. Who knows when you’ll actually do it again.

Jason looked up out the window again and bit his lip. Outside, a group of children were having a snowball fight while honest to god carolers sang on the street corner behind them. It was certainly a far cry from home, which seemed to be the only thing his brain was interested in at the moment. Besides, if he hated it, he could just leave as soon as his car was fixed. It wasn’t like he was exactly wanted or needed here. For once, he was free to come and go as he wished. Mind made up, he got back to his feet and went down to the kitchen, and he didn’t even get lost. 

“Just in time!” Piper called from the stove, flipping her last pancake onto the big serving plate she had in the other hand. She turned to Jason and gestured at the table where Reyna was already waiting. “Go on and take a seat.”

“Before I do, there was something I wanted to ask you guys,” Jason said. “There was a surprise change of plans, and I won’t be going to California. I know we only talked about me staying for a few days last night, but I have the whole month off from work, and I was wondering if you would be open to me extending my stay for that length of time.”

There was a beat of silence before a loud CRASH filled the room, Piper having dropped her plate of pancakes to clap her hands to her cheeks, looking beyond delighted. “Really?”

Jason took a half step back, startled at the outburst. “Um, yes. If that’s alright.”

“It’s more than alright!” Piper squealed. “It’s a Christmas miracle! Ohmigosh, I have got to go get the stuff ready! You two wait here!”

With that, she practically vanished, leaving nothing but a pile of ceramic and pancakes in her place. 

Reyna heaved a sigh and got to her feet, though she made no effort to mask the incredibly fond smile curling over her mouth. “I suppose I should order breakfast, then.”

“Um, what just happened?” Jason asked as Reyna started picking up the mess Piper had left.

“My wife cares very deeply about the Christmas season,” Reyna said seriously. “Every year since we’ve opened, we’ve had at least one guest during December, and Piper takes great pride and pleasure in showing them everything the town has to offer for the holidays. She was very disappointed when there weren’t any scheduled guests this year.”

Jason’s face paled. “Oh. I, um, I don’t really do Christmas,” he stammered. “I mean, I’m fine with other people doing it, but it’s not really for me, you know?”

Reyna considered that for a moment before she rested her hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eye. For one moment, she looked exactly like the stern, severe girl he’d known in high school. “You have never met anyone quite like Piper McLean, have you?”

“Um, no.”

“In that case, I’d like to offer you some advice.” She looked somehow more serious than before. “I suggest that you surrender now, in order to maintain your dignity.”

Jason sighed and he mentally glowered at the little voice in his head, suddenly absent from the conversation. This is all your fault.

*-*-*

Leo stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth from his heels to his toes, watching the way his breath puffed up in steamy little clouds in the air before him. He loved and respected Piper, and was perfectly willing to indulge her in things that made her happy, but did she really have to decide to be obsessed with the cold-time holiday? Why couldn’t she have been obsessed with Halloween or something? Leo liked Halloween. It was fun and he got candy and it wasn’t so damn cold. But no. Piper liked Christmas, which meant that Leo spent more than his fair share of time outside in the cold during December because he loved his sister or whatever.

The tree-lighting ceremony was probably Leo’s least-favorite Christmas activity, because it was boring on top of being cold. The whole event was just a bunch of people milling around and waiting for the mayor to give her little Christmas speech about how much she loved the people of this town before she flipped a switch and all the lights on the tree and the street lamps turned on in sequence. It was pretty, sure, but it wasn’t exactly any prettier than it was literally any other night of December, so Leo didn’t really see the point. Unfortunately, Piper didn’t feel that way. In fact, she felt the opposite. She saw the lighting ceremony as the official start of the Christmas Season (and yes, both words were capitalized), which made it one of her favorite events. For that reason, and that reason alone, Leo went to the tree-lighting ceremony every year, and he only ever complained about it a little bit.

“Leo! There he is! I see him! Leo!”

Leo turned around just in time to see Piper before she all but tackled him in a hug. He laughed brightly, but hugged her back. “Geeze, Pipes, you act like you haven’t seen me in years. I was literally at your house this morning.”

“It’s a bit of a shame you didn’t stay longer,” Reyna commented, materializing at Piper’s side like she always did. “We could have used some good breakfast.”

“I made a great breakfast!”

“And then proceeded to drop it on the floor.”

Leo arched an eyebrow at Piper. “Why the hell did you drop breakfast on the floor?”

“I was distracted.”

“What were you–” Jason walked up then, and Leo cut himself off from how hard he was biting the inside of his lips to keep from doubling over in wheezing hysterics. “Ah. Nevermind.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jason huffed. “Laugh it up.”

“No, no! It looks, um.” Leo looked Jason up and down and bit his tongue to keep from laughing again. “It, uh, suits you.”

Jason scowled at him, very easily picking up on Leo’s very obvious lie. Jason was still wearing his charcoal peacoat from the night before, as well as the thin gold wire glasses, but he was more than a little disheveled. His thick blond hair was all fluffed up and scruffy on one side, his glasses sat slightly crooked on his face, and there was a red mark high on his cheekbone that Leo got the feeling was going to bruise. But more importantly than that, he was wearing a sweater, over his coat, that was bright red with silver tinsel striped sleeves and a pair of ice skating reindeer, complete with pom-pom noses, splashed front and center across his chest. 

Jason looked him up and down and furrowed his brow. “Where’s your sweater? Piper was very insistent that they were not optional.”

Leo hiked up a brow and pulled the front of his coat open just enough to show off the sparkly dark green sweater he was wearing, even if all of the tree decoration detailing stayed hidden. “I am wearing one. But I was smart enough to put mine on before Piper had to wrestle it on me.”

“She’s only, like, five five. I figured I would win that fight,” Jason admitted. “I wasn’t expecting her to call in Reyna as reinforcements. I certainly wasn’t expecting Reyna to actually do it.”

Leo nodded sagely. “You gotta remember that Reyna’s favorite side hustle is playing wife knight.”

“I have no clue what you’re saying to me.”

Leo laughed brightly and squeezed Jason’s bicep. “Just know that it’s always in your best interest to let Piper do what she wants in December.”

“That’s what Reyna said, too,” Jason sighed.

“Well, Reyna is the only person on the planet who might know Pipes even better than me, so you should probably listen to her.”

Suddenly, Piper whirled around on them, eyes narrowed. “Would you two be quiet?” she hissed. “Annabeth is about to speak.”

“We literally weren’t even bothering you,” Leo hissed back. “Mind your business.”

“Well, you’re bothering me now, so hush.”

Leo blew a raspberry at her, but she just rolled her eyes and faced the front again, so Leo let the subject drop. Then, he felt Jason come up right behind him and lean in so that his low, quiet voice was very close to Leo’s face. “What, exactly, is going on here? Piper was going to tell me, but she kept getting distracted.”

Leo fought back the urge to shiver, and gestured up at the stage with his mittened hand, where Annabeth was speaking into the microphone. “It’s the tree-lighting ceremony. Up there is Annabeth Chase. She’s mayor, and has been for almost a decade. Every year she makes this big speech about how glad she is that she gets to be mayor and how much she appreciates everyone and that she hopes to be able to continue to serve the community in any way we’ll have her, then she turns on the Christmas lights.”

Jason wrinkled his nose in distaste. “So, what? Is it some kind of campaign thing then? I’m a little surprised Piper’s interested in that.”

Leo shrugged, doing his best to not bump the bottom of Jason’s chin with his shoulder, seeing as the other man was still hovering right next to his cheek. “Eh, that’s not really what it is, though. Annabeth is just, like, really passionate about local government. She actually dropped out of college to run for mayor, she cares so much. I don’t think anyone even ran against her last time. Everyone just likes her and she does a good job. She’s really just doing this to welcome in the Christmas season, or whatever.”

“Huh. I wouldn’t have figured that.” Jason stood up straight, finally returning Leo’s personal space, which he definitely wasn’t even a little disappointed in. 

“And with that,” Annabeth announced, her magnified voice carrying over the small crowd that had gathered around the big central Christmas tree, “I would like to wish everyone in town a very merry Christmas!”

She flipped the cartoonishly large switch in her hand, and the tree lit up, one section at a time, starting from the bottom and ending with a glowing star at the top. When that finished, the lights seemed to grow out from the tree, following the path out like an electric snowflake, the twinkling lights chasing one another off down the little side streets attached to the central plaza. Everyone in the crowd cheered, and Piper grabbed the front of Reyna’s jacket to pull her down into a kiss, cliché foot pop and everything included.

Leo turned to maybe make a joke about the whole thing to Jason, only to see that the other man was staring up at the tree in something akin to wonder. He blinked slowly, his eyes wide and so very blue behind his glasses, and the bright lights and flashing colors made their home dancing across his cheeks instead of on the tree and Leo had to take a moment to catch his breath. He suddenly caught himself thinking that maybe Piper was right. Maybe the lights were prettier tonight than they were any other night. 

[hinamie]

been in a yuuji mood

[sysig]

Coding woes (Patreon)

[kyouka-supremacy]

Well.

[good-beanswrites]

I wanted to bring up a silly ship idea. Just for fun.

03, 06, 09, 10

Was this before Kotoko attacked them? After? I dunno.

Thoughts?

YES the cringefail 20yo polycule 👏👏👏 Thank you for the request! I've seen a lot about the individual pairs, so it was really fun to think about all their dynamics together! I have a set of hcs that could work in the current canon Milgram, and then a normal au set because it's so fun thinking about them :3

Milgram-focused

The I’m-a-loner-who’s-doing-it-for-justice-don’t-TOUCH-me pair finally meet their match when confronted with the I-loved-someone-so-much-and-don’t-plan-on-stopping pair. They all go into the relationship with grand ideas of love: they think it’s all heroic acts of saving, massive gestures or love, and dramatic confessions. Over time, they realize the real heroism/romance is in the little things. 

Mahiru has her hands full with three people who neglect themselves for the sake of their work/interests, but she always loves feeding them and helping give them what they need. In turn, they can give her more affection and attention than she could ever ask for. They make sure someone is always around to spend time with her.

Each of the three is a perfect match for dealing with John’s reveal. Mahiru is calming and helps tone down Mikoto’s initial stress. Fuuta is honest and will help Mikoto finally confront his own situation and move forward. And since Kotoko can match his strength, Mikoto doesn’t need to be afraid of accidentally hurting anyone. Mikoto becomes less stressed with the overall situation as well as more accepting of himself/John.

I always love the idea that Fuuta is secretly starstruck by Kotoko and John’s strength. He’ll never admit how much he admires their ability to stand up and fight. He feels really safe around them. He’s glad to have the opportunity to fight for someone else, too – he likes to be Mahiru’s self-proclaimed protector and hero. (Even though most of the time she can stand up for herself, she still likes letting him take care of her.)

Kotoko’s experiences let her hold solid conversations with everyone. She’s similar enough to Fuuta where they share some interests (social issues, schooling, etc.) She understands hard work and burnout to earn Mikoto’s respect. She understands physical strength to earn John’s. She has a lot of people-knowledge, so she can gossip and talk about Tokyo life to Mahiru (Mappi’s doing most of the ‘gossiping,’ but Kotoko has solid additions). She's a good listener and has a good memory, so everyone feels heard by her.

They start to rub off on each other. Mahiru and Mikoto learn to be a bit tougher in standing up for herself. Fuuta, John, and Kotoko learn to take a breath before jumping right to violence. They stay very much who they are, but pick up on just a few habits that make their lives easier.

Their styles also influence one another: Fuuta gets pointers from all three about piercing his ears (though it takes him a long time to get up the nerve to do it). Mahiru helps the others dress more trendy and boost their confidence, and they teach her to worry less about her appearance and relax more. 

If they get together T1, Kotoko is shocked by the T1 verdicts. She might pull away from everyone in initial horror, but after developing a relationship ahead of time, she doesn’t follow through with her attacks. If not, then maybe in T3 when Kotoko is suffering from her guilty verdict, Mahiru and Mikoto are able to bridge the gap and develop a friendship, leading to more. Fuuta would take longer to come around, but I think seeing Kotoko got through the same pain as him, his hero instincts would kick in and he’d gradually help. 

Normal-au

Mahiru once again tries out her lovers’ interests, and gets a bunch of new hobbies. Fuuta teaches her to game, she works out with Kotoko, and she tries out photography with Mikoto. She becomes close with Fuuta’s beautician sister, and enjoys bonding over fashion and hair. She helps redye Mikoto’s hair, and give the other two pointers on style now and then. When going to nicer events, she and Mikoto have to step in and stop the others from their sneaker/hoodie combos. As the only one with a license, she’s the designated driver at all events, but doesn’t mind. 

Fuuta uses his tech skills to set up social media accounts for the others. He helps Mahiru network her flower shop, fighting anyone who leaves a bad comment/review. He helps set up a complex online portfolio for Mikoto. He and Kotoko still have a passion for justice, and he becomes the tech brains behind her vigilante operations (very Ron Stoppable - Kim Possible) It’s not necessarily healthy growth, but they’re happy with it lmao

Mikoto is the only full-time worker, the others are all still in university, and he makes sure to keep them all on track. He knows the most efficient tricks and cheats about getting papers done, pulling all-nighters, and cramming before an exam. The others have learned to spot when he’s burning himself out for others, and will stop him when he tries to take on too much. They’ll take care of him and force him to rest. While he can still get into a bit of trouble, John learns to call them first and get some help. 

Kotoko has trained herself to find people and information easily to catch criminals, but she finds use for it in much more mundane ways – she tracks down clients for Mahiru, snoops around Mikoto’s company to make sure he’s being treated right, and keeps an eye out for the people Fuuta is calling out and/or hanging out with. She goes on runs with Mahiru, and bike rides with Mikoto. Fuuta tags along sometimes to strengthen his legs for soccer. 

There’s definitely potential for them all to have their murders pre- or mid- relationship, and they help one another improve themselves and heal. I’m also a sucker for the relationship itself to cause them to change their ways and narrowly avoid the murder in the first place. (For the latter, Mahiru would ironically be the last to join the relationship, since she’d still be with her bf until the other three inspire her to break it off with him gently.)

[honey-tongued-devil]

↞[arcane preference] founding out you were injured in crossfire↠

Since I've created a Bluesky profile and wrote my thesis on Arcane, I'll be posting both old and new drawings there as soon as the time comes. I'm taking advantage of this little space to promote my other social account. honey-tongued.bsky.social Also, I've received both comments and requests, but Tumblr decided I couldn’t post for a week (my internet connection is terrible). I want to let you know that I appreciate them, and I'll get to everything as soon as I can. So, feel free to leave comments, feedback, or requests!

Jayce: 

- This is the worst news he could receive: he's a scholar, he has no idea how to handle these situations, and, most of all, he's forced to confront his pride.  

- Not only was he unable to protect you now, but what if it happens again? Even if he's there, he wouldn't know what to do.  

- What if there's a next time? What if it doesn't turn out as well next time?  

- His self-sabotage leads him to distance himself from you for a few days, not because he doesn't want to be near you while you're hurting, but because he's ashamed of not being able to protect the person he loves.  

- On the bright side, for even just a second, he remembers the original purpose of his research: making the city safe, helping people.  

- But on the negative side, with no one to blame, more than ever, the people of Zaun appear to him as beasts, second-class humans who can't be redeemed in any way.  

- When he finally gathers the courage to see you again, he tries to make amends for everything: for not protecting you, for not being able to, for allowing someone to hurt you, and for not being there during your recovery.  

- He'll literally do anything to be forgiven: every morning you'll find breakfast in bed, if it's cold at night he'll prepare a warmer for your feet, and despite his squeamishness, he'll personally tend to your wounds, even if it makes him feel queasy.

Viktor:

- He tries to help you in every way possible, even ignoring his own pain.  

- He feels sadness, regrets that you went out alone and ended up in such a situation. He can't help but imagine the fear you must have felt, the confusion, and the loneliness when the guards intervened, and you woke up alone in the hospital.  

- He may be a scholar, but first and foremost he's a man with a moral code, and secondly, he's from Zaun: if he has any work, appointments, or lectures, he'll skip them all, maybe muttering a few insults in his thick accent at the most insistent people, and make up for it at night.  

- Plans, ideas, codes, anything – but he won't leave you alone unless you ask him to.  

- He takes care of you meticulously, respecting schedules, bringing you meals in bed, changing your bandages until your skin heals, and you're able to stand on your own again.  

- He doesn't mind helping you – as a chronically ill person who refuses others' help, he's learned to do everything on his own, and he's almost happy that his skills can be useful to someone else.

Ekko:

- Is it something totally normal in the lanes? Yes.  

- Does this stop Ekko from panicking? No.  

- He's the one who finds you and brings you to the others, but he doesn't want, nor can he afford, to be seen panicking. So, he swallows his despair and tries to act as normal as possible while ten other people rush to help you.  

- His face remains expressionless as the most skilled remove debris, clean the wound, stitch your torn flesh, and bandage you, but his foot keeps tapping the floor with force and speed, revealing his anxiety.  

- When the others insist that it's best you stay in the makeshift infirmary, he tries not to protest, but suddenly every moment of the day becomes an excuse to pass by: to bring you stolen sweets from Piltover, to tell you about some expedition, maybe even steal a kiss or fall asleep leaning against your mattress.  

- It's an overwhelming fear, but the fear of losing you makes him unable to think rationally, and all he feels is how much he misses you, even while you're right there with him.

Vander:

- A crossfire from the other side of the river was already a big enough provocation to alert him and prepare to defend the city or, if absolutely necessary, to strike back.  

- But you, as an accidental victim, are a huge problem.  

- He doesn’t have the heart to pull away from you, and when he does, he can’t help but feel frustrated, angry at himself, knowing he hasn’t been able to keep his city under control like he promised—to you, to Piltover, to everyone.  

- He’ll ask for your forgiveness by kissing the scarred skin every day, even if you insist it’s not his fault, and if you remember even one of the faces, he’ll go and handle the problem.  

- Not with violence, unless necessary, but it’s not about personal justice; rather, it’s about protecting the other citizens of the alleys too.  

- Even after you’ve healed, he’ll insist it’s absolutely necessary to carry you everywhere you need to go, claiming a very good doctor told him so.  

- And the memory of the scar will be tiny compared to all the marks Vander has left on you.  

Silco:

- Private justice is absolutely the first option, even though you were an accidental victim.  

- He’ll call all his goons and associates for a meeting while you’re still bedridden, to see if they’ve heard, seen, or been involved in any armed conflict, and if he doesn’t get a face or a name from them, he’ll turn to the brothel, the house of all information,  

- Until he finds who hurt you and makes sure they can’t do it again.  

- Silco isn’t fazed by blood or open wounds, but despite having enough experience to handle it himself, at least on the first day, he’ll take you to Singed to make sure you’re in the best condition.  

- In the following days, he’ll take care of you himself, but he has pride, a façade, and little emotional communication skills, so he won’t openly show how worried he is, relying entirely on the fact that you don’t know about the murder of your assailant and remember nothing of the visit to Singed.  

- But the only reason you heal so well and so quickly is that, even if he doesn’t know how to express it, all the love he feels is poured into the care he gives you.  

Jinx:

- Flashbacks. So many. Too many.  

- At some point, she’ll even convince herself that she’s the one who shot you, leading to a complete breakdown.  

- She punches her head, scratches herself without realizing it, her nose bleeds, and her eyes are bloodshot.  

- It takes her a while to convince herself that she wasn’t the one who shot you, even though the hallucinations overlap images of you with memories of her armed, creating waking nightmares that feel increasingly real.  

- As much as she’d like to ask her father for help, even just to give you a cleaner room, she feels responsible and is too scared that if she stays away from you, you’ll forget her. That’s why she sets up a little space for you and takes care of you herself, though not always painlessly.  

- She’s pulled bullets out of her own body more times than not after missions; what might seem like dangerous, delicate work to someone else is almost routine for her by now.  

- Once she has a suspicion of who might have done it, she’ll make sure they learn their lesson. 

 

Vi:

- Anger.  

- Why were you out alone? Why didn’t you leave as soon as you saw the crowd getting too big? Why were you in that area?  

- But her anger is just panic pouring out like a flood, the fear of not being able to protect the one she loves twists her stomach, making her feel like she might throw up, like she’s dying inside.  

- None of those questions mean she blames you, but she doesn’t know how to feel, what to think, or even what to do.  

- She’ll do everything to help you—bandaging you, cleaning your wounds, staying silent and giving her full attention to make up for not being there when you needed her, even though that’s not true.  

- And when the scar forms, she’ll kiss it every single day, every single night, like a little ritual between the two of you.  

Caitlyn:

- Safety first.  

- She’ll be the one to assess how bad the injury is, and if there are any foreign objects in your body, there’s a good chance she’ll try to handle it herself, even though at first it might seem a bit barbaric.  

- She’ll give you the guest room and call the family doctor to make sure you’re okay, that you don’t need anything else, and she’ll take care of what’s necessary, even teasing you a bit to hide her worry.  

- "A bullet in the leg from being caught in crossfire? Very vintage, I must say."  

- What you won’t know is that she’ll quietly increase security, not in an oppressive way, but just enough to make both you and the other citizens feel safer.  

- Her family won’t get involved directly, but they won’t stop her either. Sometimes Cassandra herself will make sure her daughter finds the tray to bring up to you, though she’ll never be too open about it.  

- The perfect rehabilitation? Long walks in the villa’s garden, so you can stop for some cookies or tea when you get tired.  

Mel:

- Flashbacks, but less personal than Jinx’s.  

- Her mother would call her weak if she knew how it kills her to see someone barely scratched by crossfire, and that realization soon turns into frustration, which then becomes anger.  

- She tries to stay calm, but her voice sounds like she’s scolding you, and then like she’s scolding the servants, or anyone else who crosses her path.  

- Two hours of lecture if you’re lucky—why you shouldn’t go out without a guard, why you shouldn’t put yourself in dangerous situations, why the enforcers are utterly useless and can’t find anyone responsible, even though the fight was so intense.  

- She’ll focus entirely on the bureaucratic side because little Mel was never taught how to deal with strong emotions, and she’s definitely feeling them now but can’t afford that vulnerability, even though she knows you’re safe.  

- She won’t take care of you herself, but she’ll always stay in the room. Not because she doesn’t want to, to be clear, but because she wants you to have the best care possible and prefers to leave it to a top professional rather than her inexperienced hands.  

- In return, she’ll triple the amount of affection and caresses—more to calm herself than you, but you won’t be the one to complain.  

Sevika:

- She needs a moment.  

- She knows she has to report to Silco that there was a firefight, that someone is threatening the people, but part of her just wants to grab those responsible and crush their heads with her bare hands, doing both you and her boss a favor. Yet, another part of her doesn’t want to leave you alone or take you with her.  

- She knows how to handle these things; she’s lost an arm, and Silco’s goons often come back in worse shape, which is why she’ll take care of you herself, in complete silence.  

- She’ll wait until you’re asleep to place a water bottle, a glass, some painkillers, and some bread on the nightstand next to your bed. And when she’s sure you’re fully asleep, she’ll leave a soft kiss on your forehead before putting on her cloak and heading out to the Last Drop.  

- There, she’ll release her anger in a brawl or two, talk to her boss, and search for the reason why she feels so awful at the bottom of her third glass of whiskey.  

[buckyalpine]

40s Sergeant Barnes with a nurse and a Sergeant kink (and breeding and house wife kink, virginity loss). This was supposed to be a pure smutty drabble but then I got in my feelings and added some fluff and angst but I promise Bucky is still a dirty, nasty little fuck in this. Just with a sweeter ending. The one he deserves.

Listen just imagine what a cute, sexy menace Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes would be just waking up from an injury when his eyes flutter open to the pretty nurse he’s been eyeing from the day he started. You’re not a shy, dainty little thing, nope. Not at all.

You bark out orders like a drill Sergeant and one glare from you is all it takes to get everyone in line and on task without a second thought. Even his superiors are scared of you, biting their tongue when you stitch them up and send them on their way before running off to your next patient.

Bucky was in love.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes” he rasps, throwing you a charming smirk while you roll your eyes in response, shaking your head. "How'd I get so lucky, got a my little angel tendin' to me"

“I see your injury hasn’t stopped hurt that mouth of yours Sergeant" You quirk an eyebrow while he playfully huffs as you change the dressing covering a gash on his abdomen. You swab the area clean and he doesn't flinch even though you know it must burn like hell, his muscles tensed while he continues to watch you with heart eyes. "Now you know I'm not your little angel, I got 20 other men to fix up, you better be out of this bed as soon as you're all healed up"

“C’mon sugar, you're breakin' my heart" Bucky gives you a little pout with those perfect lips and you catch the twinkle in his eye as he looks over your form with complete admiration. He loved your sassy, take no shit attitude and it's taking everything in him to calm himself down so he doesn't get a hard on right there in front of you.

"You'd tell that to a cat with three legs if it was in a nurses outfit" You try your best to not give into his flirty comments and puppy eyes, knowing damn well he's a heart breaker but he makes it so difficult when he continues to woo you with his boyish charm.

He can't help but chase after you; catching the way your eyes always dart around with anxiety when his group returns from an operation, relief flooding them when you finally spot him. He loves your indifferent attitude, patting him down to make sure he's uninjured but your furrowed brows and the tiny pout on your lips give away that you're worried.

How can he just let you go. Every time you check over him, he needs you closer.

So much closer.

-

"Ms. y/l/n, Sergeant Barnes is requesting you in his tent, he says it's urgent"

You shake your head looking over at the time, quietly making your way over to the tent he's stationed at, thankful that a number of troops were sleeping so you wouldn't be seen as you quickly slip inside.

“And what hurts now” you sass with your hands on your hips seeing the soldier in perfect health, doing your best to assess him without letting him know.

"Always checkin' over me" Bucky chuckles, seeing what you're doing; his words making your cheeks heat up, "Knew you cared about me sugar"

"Well what am I doin' here" You give him an unconvincing huff, struggling to keep your voice steady, refusing to meet his eyes, keeping your gaze on his silver dog tags instead. It doesn't help that he's handsome as hell with a light dusting of scruff covering his cheeks. Bucky's never seen you flustered before and it evokes something in him, all the blood in his body rushing south seeing your fingers twitch.

All he wanted to do was kiss you but now-

“Help your Sergeant out doll” He whispers, taking another step forward till his chest brushes against yours, his hand coming to tilt your chin up, "Will you?"

You gasp feeling his hardness press against your thigh, your heart fluttering wildly as his thumb traces your lips, any semblance of control you had slipping away feeling the warmth of his skin.

“Y-yes Sergeant Barnes”

His lips press against yours, soft and sweet, a stark contrast to the way his body was screaming for him to pick you up and toss you onto his cot.

"Sweet like sugar" He lets his hands fall to your waist, pulling you flush against his body while your arms drape on top of his shoulders. You stand on your toes chasing more of his lips and he chuckles at the needy whine you let out when he pulls away for air.

Now let's say your first night together was actually quite tame. He kisses you again and you swoon when he repeatedly checks in with you before going any further. His hand slips under your skirt, letting his fingers toy with places no on else has touched. With each night, he needs you more and more until he can't hold off any longer and neither can you.

-

You sneak into his tent and this time he doesn't hesitate to undress you completely, not when he needs you bare with nothing separating you both. You feel your heart race as he lies on top of you, draping a thin sheet over himself when you shiver at the chill night air. You feel his body heat instantly warm you up, his heavy cock resting between your soaked folds.

"Are you sure, sugar?" He asks, his hand cupping your cheek and stroking your skin.

"Please Sergeant" You whisper and the way you say his title makes his cock twitch. There's something so different about you when you're in his bed, a sweet little bunny giving herself to him completely. It drives him feral with a need to make you feel good, make you cry for his cock and his cock only, to keep you nice and full of him.

You don't look twice at anyone else and here you are completely naked in his tent with your tight little virgin cunt, your legs spread open so he can put his dick in you; there was no way he was ever going to let you go.

"You tell me if it's too much, alright?" His lips tickle your neck as kisses your skin while rubbing his heavy cock through your folds, coating it in your slick, "Breathe for me"

He slips his tags into your mouth as he starts to press in, the initial sting making you bite down hard onto the metal feeling a mix of pleasure and pain. You whine at the way he stretches you open, your thighs squeezing around his waist, nails digging into his shoulders.

"Shhh, that's it love, doin' so good for me so good for your Sergeant, look how you're takin' all of me baby" He looks down to where you're both connected as he continues to slowly push himself in till hes fully sheathed inside you. He gives you time to adjust, slipping his tags out of your lips and letting his tongue lace with yours instead, his balls already throbbing with how tightly you were squeezing his cock.

"Please-Sergeant" your heels press into his ass desperate for him to move, gasping when he starts to slowly roll his hips, barely pulling out.

"I got you love-don't worry" Bucky moves as slowly as he could not wanting to hurt you, taking just as much care of you as you had with him countless of times.

But he can only keep up at that pace for so long. Your muffled whines and moans don't help the way his mind is already spiraling. His pretty little nurse all spread out just for him, taking his raw, bare cock in her soaking pussy, squeezing him so tight, he was only a few strokes from cumming.

If it were up to him he would've proposed on the spot, thinking about making love to you on your wedding night, seeing you all shy and sweet wrapped up in soft white lace. If you were his wife, he'd take you apart every which way, not giving a fuck about traditions, taking you right on the dining room table.

You'd be the prettiest little thing for him to come home to, such a good wife all dirty just for her husband. Only he'd know the way your mouth would slobber all over his cock like your life depended on it. The way you'd moan at the taste of his cum. Bucky's eyes rolled back at the thought of you with nothing but some heels and a string of pearls he'd put around your neck while he stuffed you with cum and emptied his balls in you.

"S-Sergeant-I-oh god" You whimpered feeling his cock grow harder, your pussy pulling him right back in, feeling the coil low in your belly pull tighter and tighter as he hit that spot.

Meanwhile Bucky's jaw clenched as he felt his balls pull tight to his body, the tip leaking steadily in your pussy. His mind spiraled into places he didn't think would exist before he met you, rogue thoughts he only entertained when he had his dick in his hand. The harder he fucked you the more he thought about how gorgeous you'd look with a swollen belly.

Fuck, imagine if he got you pregnant right then and there. That nurses uniform would no longer fit you. Everyone would know he knocked you up, your perfectly round tummy carrying Sergeant James Barnes' baby, breasts heavy with milk, God, he wasn't going to last-

“Gonna let your Sergeant pump you full of cum?” He pants, letting his hands grip onto your hips like his life depends on it, the wiry hair at the base of his cock rubbing against your clit.

“Yes!!” You sob, biting down onto his shoulder to keep your cries down while he continues to fuck you into oblivion. You don't understand how such filth can spew from that pink, pouty little mouth of his. "Please-please-need-youI-I'm gonna-"

"M'yours sweet girl, m'all yours, go on, cum for me love, cum on my cock, it's all yours" He gazed into your eyes, cooing at your parted lips and sweat slicked skin. It didn't take long for you to shatter around him his lips smashing against yours to swallow your moans.

"Want your cum Sergeant" You beg , desperate to have him claim you from the inside.

"Oh fuck baby, y-you can't say that, m-gonna, oh fuckkk" Your words throw Bucky right off the edge as he lets out a deep groan stilling his hips and shooting endless ropes of his spend into you. You both lay in comfortable silence, your fingers playing with his hair; his usual kempt brown locks now disheveled .

“Y’know m’gonna marry you” his scruffy cheek nuzzles into your neck as he continues to stay deep inside you as his cock softens, “after all this is over. Gonna put a ring on that finger”

His words send a different wave of emotions over you, feeling more safe than ever, clinging onto him as tightly as possible. You let a whimper slip out and he pulls away from your neck with an expression of concern.

“What is it love” Bucky coos, wiping away the tears that slip you, stroking your cheek while you bite back a sniffle.

“Do you mean it? After this is all over?” You weren't sure what Bucky would want-there was still a war going on. Anything could happen. Perhaps this was just to keep his bed warm. Something to keep him calm, you were just someone to-

"Of course sugar" Bucky presses a firm kiss to your forehead, silencing the thoughts that tried to run wild. "You're mine"

-

And of course he gets his happy ending. Because when it's all over, he gets the ring for the girl he loves. He's on one knee, proposing to you with the sweetest words. He treats you like a princess on your wedding night, making love all night long until the sun is up.

There isn't a surface in the house he's left untouched. Nothing makes him more feral than moaning for his pretty wife, constantly taking her hand and wrapping it around his cock, watching that diamond glint with each stroke.

It doesn't take long for you to feel a little squeamish, knowing all the tell tale signs.

The day you tell him he's going to be a dad is one of the happiest days of his life. There isn't a single night that goes by where he isn't nuzzling his face into your tummy, talking to your little one.

Everything was perfecttt.

[lymtw]

It's three in the morning and the sound of your phone vibrating against the bed wakes you from your peaceful slumber. You lazily reach for the blinding light next to you, instantly knowing who's on the other end when you see the blue diamond emoji.

"Hello..."

You were very much asleep, the raspiness in your voice making it that much more evident.

"Hey, sorry to wake you. Are you okay to talk for a bit?"

Satoru sounds like he's wide awake.

"Don't worry about it. What's up?"

You roll onto your side, your phone between your ear and your pillow. If you close your eyes for more than three seconds, you'll fall asleep again.

There's a slight pause between your response and his. Maybe the signal is bad or he didn't hear you.

"Is everything alright, Satoru?"

"I can't sleep."

He responds quickly this time. His tone didn't change. He didn't sound like he was in distress or too worried about the fact.

"Oh. Uh... have you tried drinking some chamomile tea? I personally don't like it, but when I need to rest, I suck it up and force myself to drink a cup."

He chuckles on the line. You always do what is best for you, even if it's not something you particularly enjoy.

"I think i'm just missing you a lot. Can I come over?"

It was strange to think he hadn't tried a tea remedy for his inability to sleep, but who were you to tell him that? Sleep deprivation does things to people.

"Right now? It's a little late, don't you think?"

You blink slowly, trying to adjust your blurry vision in the dark.

"I promise I won't fall asleep behind the wheel. I really want to see you. Please say yes."

You shut your eyes tightly and open them, your vision clearing up a little. When have you ever said 'no' to him? He always manages to change your mind when you do.

You sigh.

"Okay. You have the spare key to my apartment. I'm going back to sleep."

"I'll be there in like fifteen minutes. Love you, bye!"

You can hear the joy in his tone. He was genuinely so uncomfortable being alone with himself, that he had to wake you up so late at night to invade your space.

–

You knocked out again, once you hung up the phone. You were in such deep sleep that you didn't even notice when Satoru got to your apartment, or when he entered your room.

You did feel the bed weigh down when he laid down next to you, and your nose couldn't ignore his sweet, sweet scent.

"Baby," he whispered. "I'm here."

"Okay, now go to sleep," you mumble, your eyes still closed.

"Come here." He effortlessly turns you over and pulls you close, lifting your leg over his hip. His hand went up to your face, caressing your delicate, peaceful features before scattering kisses all over it, making sure to elongate the duration of the ones he leaves on your lips.

"Baby," he coos. "Come on, kiss me back."

He's like a dog—constantly begging for your attention. The thought makes you crack a smile, one Satoru does not miss.

"I know you're awake." He smiles, putting your leg back in place, before rolling over until he's on top you.

"Fucking hell, 'toru," you break, cracking up at how he had no remorse after crushing your body.

"There's my pretty baby. I'm so glad you're awake now."

"It's your fault," you grumble.

"If wanting to love you is a crime, then throw me in the slammer and toss the key." His nose dove into your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. "You're just so pretty, and you're all mine."

His affection was starting to evolve into more than lovey dovey kisses. His lips stung every time they met your delicate neck. His hands were roaming beneath your shirt, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

He loved the way your breathing quickened. It had him chasing more of the reactions associated with the hummed melodies.

"You are mine, right?" He knows the answer, but hearing you say it from time to time always makes him happy. His icy blue eyes can read your response before you even form it. He loves flustering you with eye contact tied with touches that burned with desire. To top it all off, he loves teasing you to see the way you scramble your response. "It's okay if you're not." He smirks, catching the way your eyes widened the slightest bit. "That's subject to change, isn't it?" He eggs on.

"I'm yours, Satoru. I belong to you," you say, making it crystal clear to him. "All yours." With this, he wouldn't doubt it again until the next time he wasn't with you.

"Yeah? You know, I would've done anything to hear those words from you." He leans down to kiss you, a spike of arousal hitting him when you bit his lip and sucked on it.

"Oh... you can't do that. I will put a baby in you." He has never said anything so seriously.

"I dare you to put a baby in me," you say, teasingly. You know he won't do it. He's not ready to share you yet.

"Keep acting like that and I will."

His lips ghost the column of your neck, trailing down your chest and lower to your abdomen. Your oversized gown of a t-shirt was the only thing standing between your body and his eyes. He pulled it up and off with a little help from you, tossing it aside after.

You were a little nervous about what was running through Satoru's head. He was devouring you with just his eyes and already you felt so flustered.

"God, don't ogle me like that, 'toru." You put your hands over your breasts—a makeshift bra to cover what he was staring at.

"Let me see you, baby," he pries, gently. He puts his hands on yours, not pulling them away as to not make you do anything you don't want to do. You end up moving your hands on your own, but turn away, unable to hold his gaze when he's watching you that way.

He cups your breasts, his thumbs swiping over your nipples, instantly making them pebble. He could feel the way you tried to press your thighs together, your relief disturbed by his body wedged between your legs. You tried your hardest to remain composed, but his fingers wouldn't let up. His eyes were glued to your face, watching intently until you let out a shaky breath.

"Mhm..." he hummed, grinning at your bashful attempt to stay quiet. "I know this is driving you crazy."

"Shut... up."

"If it isn't, why can I feel you rubbing up against my stomach."

You stop and your cunt throbs at the suddenness of it.

"Just let it out and we can move on. Let me hear that pretty little ah-"

"Fuck," you whimper, interrupting his instructive moan. Your back arches slightly off the mattress, your hands flying to grip his wrists, tightly.

"Good girl," he praises, his fingers letting off your tortured peaks. Little butterfly kisses are placed between your breasts, trailing down to your stomach, where he spends so much time eliciting giggles from you.

His fingers hook around the elastic band of your shorts and panties, pulling them both down in one swoop.

"I didn't know kissing turned you on so much," he says, eyeing the glossy remnants left in your underwear.

"'toru..." you whine, feeling somewhat embarrassed about the amount of arousal you feel at the simplest touches from him.

"What? I'm not complaining one bit. It's cute."

He slides two fingers between your folds, easily collecting your sweetness. You jolt at the sudden contact, looking at him with doe eyes.

"Oh, baby. I don't deprive you of my touch that much, do I?"

You shake your head as he continues to collect your nectar, his fingers dipping in slightly to fully coat his fingertips.

"My sensitive princess." He smiles, softly. "How many times do you wanna cum?"

He never asks you this, always just giving you everything he can give or what you can take. You go for a small number, not wanting to seem excessively needy.

"Maybe two times? Please?" Your voice sounds meek. Like you're asking him for the impossible.

Satoru just chuckles. "How 'bout we triple that number?"

–

"S-Satoru—fuck— just like that, like that!" Your head pushes back against the pillow, your hands beside your head, scrunching up the sheets.

This was the fourth orgasm. There was cum spotted over your inner thighs and sweat layered over both your bodies. He had driven you to insanity like he planned.

"More, baby?" He grunts, thrusting with his continuous pace.

"Please," you cry out, fresh tears welling in your eyes again.

Satoru loved watching the tears stream down your face because he got to lean down and kiss them away. He takes the opportunity to praise you— to tell you how good you're being for him.

Your back arched and you braced yourself for the intensity of your next orgasm. Satoru swallowed your moans, kissing you fervently through his own rush. His breathing stuttered when he felt your nails clawing at his back, and once again his cum spurted into you. His breathing was heavy through the nose due to his insistence of kissing you until he you patted him for air.

"Fuck," you muttered. You let out an out of breath laugh, your chest rising and falling quickly as you tried to even out your breathing.

"That's five, baby." He exhales sharply, leaning back and running a hand through his dampened locks. You look at him with twinkling eyes, a smirk being thrown in your direction from your admiration.

"Come here," you say, outstretching your arms towards him. Satoru immediately fills the vacancy, sighing when you rake your nails against the nape of his neck. "Want you to take your time with this last one."

He takes that as a green light to start up again. He guides his cock into you again, savoring the hum that leaves you when he stuffs you again and begins his slow rhythm.

"'toru?" Your voice sounded sultry to his ears.

"Hm?"

"This won't happen again. I hope you know that." You're trying your hardest not laugh or make any sounds that take from the meaning of what you're saying.

He had to raise his head to meet your gaze. Something in the way he looked at you made you believe that this would definitely happen again.

"I hope it does. I love having you under me."

"It's inconvenient. It's so late, 'toru. Why can't we fuck when i'm not trying to sleep? Like in the daytime, or earlier in the night?"

His lips trace your jawline, and you just know he's going for your neck. Satoru lives for pointing out the marks he left on you, the day after.

"Simple," he hums. "I want you to myself." His hips continue to rock into you at the same languid pace. "At night, nobody is gonna take you from me. You won't be distracted and I get all your attention to myself." He kisses your neck. "You're all mine at night. Nobody expects you to be awake."

You gasp when he hits a spot that aches deliciously.

"Come on, baby. Give it to me," he murmurs into your neck. You can feel the way his back ripples as he instinctively picks up the pace. He was overwhelming, thrusting deeper and deeper like he was trying to consume you. What was supposed to be a slow drive towards your final orgasm of the night, turned into him unapologetically using his stamina to lure everything he could out of you. He was almost too much with the way his mouth was ruthless towards your neck and the bruising grip he kept on your hips. You were rendered the smallest thing for him.

"Satoru," you moaned, mindlessly grabbing onto his shoulder blades.

"I know, sweetheart, I know." He kisses you, tenderly, heavily contrasting the savage speed of thrusts.

You whimpered into the lip lock. Your heels dug into the mattress and your toes curled from the intensity of the pleasure you felt. Your breathing became heavier but Satoru refused to unlink his lips from yours. He couldn't when the sounds you made tasted like heaven on his tongue. His own sounds mingled with yours, a harmony that let you know that you weren't the only one feeling good. He was rutting into you, a telltale sign that he was about to cum.

"Mmm..." he hums, before unlatching his lips from yours. He panted as he watched you unravel beneath him, the smallest pinch between your brows as you gushed on him again. The way your walls spasmed around him had him following right after, another load painting your walls.

He grinned at you devilishly, the expression followed by a bright and sunny, airy chuckle. He pulls out of you, and looks down to watch your combined fluids slowly ooze out of you.

"Damn, you really tried putting a baby in me." You sigh, heavily, immediately regaining his attention. "Why do we fuck like this every time?" You rub your eyes, your sleepiness coming back around.

"I'll get one in there someday." He rubs his palm over your stomach. "And also, it's always like that because I love the face you make when you cum and you love the process of giving me that sight." His eye conveyed a seductiveness to their expression that kept you in check.

Your face goes red, warm to the touch. "Shut up." You sit up and playfully shove him.

"I get to cover you in semipermanent kisses, too." His hand comes up to the side of your neck and his fingers trace the red smudges that will darken over time. You roll your eyes, yet still put your hand over his, bringing it to your lips to press a kiss to his knuckles.

"We should shower. It's almost five in the morning." You ignore the mischievous glint in his eyes and the way he's obviously trying to suppress a boyish grin.

"Carry me, please?"

Satoru chuckles, knowing exactly why you want him to carry you.