#one title for the vibes/subject matter

[maleficent-cannoli]

Oh also I can’t believe I forgot to say this but we have a working title for the song. I think I’m going to call it Sunshine (Take Me Home).

[ts19009]

Seventeen Fic Rec's Part 5

(CONTAINS SMUT AND MATURE SUBJECT MATTER)

(Bold title means favorite)

(UPDATED: June 2nd, 2025)

when their bb girl steals ur phone @mi9yuz

the small romantic gestures that seventeen would be @fairyhaos

Kim Mingyu

guilty as sin (the thought crosses your mind that this is something you definitely shouldn't be doing. that what you're just about to do will be a terribly wrong move for you and your freshly broken heart.) @toruro

clarity (bf's best friend mingyu, (awkward) acquaintances to lovers, the other side of the f2l trope, angst, smut, you could say there's a drizzle of fluff) @hannieoftheyear

pure coincidence (office worker!mingyu x officer worker!reader) @sluttyminghao

that’s so true ❤️‍🩹(exes!mingyu x reader.) @studioeisa

The Admirer Was Right in Front of You — Kim Mingyu (Non-idol au, college au, romance (?), comedy, modern au (no specific setting, but contemporary vibe), slice of life and light-hearted mystery ) @mylovesstuffs

STRAWBERRY SCENTED STRINGS (bassist! mingyu x cellist! f reader) @himewonu

SAVE THE DATE (5 weddings in one year. 5 dates you saved for you and your boyfriend to attend — before he cheated. and now, you had to force your best friend, vernon, to go with you. but after losing a bet, mingyu agrees to take vernon’s place and be your date. this wasn’t how any of this was supposed to go, but you guess you could settle going with your only one-night-stand from college.) @goldenhourology

Back To Me (Mingyu or Hansol? You finally decide who you want to be with.) @xomakara

still yours (exes to lovers, second chance romance, fluff, angst, smut MDNI!) @cherrynpink

Theories & Heartstrings (Neighbours AU! Fake Dating AU! (but only one is fake dating. It’ll make sense when you read it, lol). Non-Idol AU!.) @wongyuseokie

croissant cravings (A seating chart mix-up has you crossing paths with a very good-looking pastry chef. ) @facethesunflower

Let Me Hear You Say... (mut (minor dni), heavy angst, fluff, toxic, ranch au, brothers best friend au) @onlymingyus

KITTY'S GOT CLAWS (a svt spiderman x jujutsu kaisen au (what a mouthful >< ), spiderman!mingyu, blackcat!reader, lots of banter, mild fighting scenes = mentions of blood and injuries !!, fluff with angst if you squint) @yi2huo

might let you make me juno @straylightdream

good behavior (just smut tbh) @ddeonghwa-s

Jeon Wonwoo

My Ride or Die (Late one night, you're attacked outside the library—your bag stolen and safety shattered. But someone saw everything. A mysterious stranger steps in to recover what was lost. What begins as a random rescue soon hints at deeper intentions and unexpected connections.) @missgraylock

WHAT IF you were wonwoo’s gf and almost got caught during NANA TOUR surprises… @cherriicou

good sport | wicked games series (bartender wonwoo, bartender mingyu, messy love triangle, friends with benefits, right person wrong time) @hannieween

on call (you'd never sleep in an on-call room, but that doesn't mean you won't find other uses for it.) @kkaetnipjeon

first love/late spring (first love/s, feelings realization/denial, reincarnation.) @studioeisa

The Fine Print (Enemies to Lovers | Fake Dating | Revenge Pact | Forced Marriage Fallout) @kathaelipwse

Lip Tint Stains and Hair Ties (childhood friends to lovers, school, college, slow burn, fluff, one shot, peachesndreams) @shineesbackbitches

Yours to Keep (Before leaving for military service, Wonwoo hands you a disposable camera, saying, "Take a picture whenever you think of me." At first, you laugh it off, but as the days pass, you find yourself reaching for the camera more often than you expected) @nerdycheol

make 'em sweat (introducing you to his friends doesn't go quite the way wonwoo expected (title from water by seventeen ; technically a sequel to fuck the neighbors but can be read as a standalone) @sluttywonwoo

progress report: i am missing you to death - jww(Childhood friends to lovers, smut, fluff, angst, college au) @imnotshua

CHEMTRAILS (Wonwoo is the last person you expect to find at a grief support group, but he may just be the peace that you need to weather all of your storms.) @vampsol

Warning Signal (In a treacherous turn of events, your most recent mission gets tangled with Wonwoo's, the last person you'd want to partner up with. As the lives of your targets get more and more intertwined, and your plan gets more complicated, memories of the past and feelings you thought you could put aside threaten to ruin the mission.) @hannieoftheyear

A New Vendetta (Wonwoo x Mafia's daughter reader) @thedensworld

wish you were here (you don't do long-distance. you never have, and you never will. not unless it's jeon wonwoo - and those chances are slim, as it is.) @haologram

My Brother's Bestfriend (fluff, light angst, smut, established relationship, doting!boyfriend wonwoo, slightly possessive!wonwoo, light comedy, soft but intense makeout sessions, lap-sitting & straddling, emotional intimacy, domestic sweetness, wonwoo being obsessed with reader™, mild tension but nothing too serious, clingy!wonwoo (unintentionally), wonwoo official lipstick tester & lip plumper) @honeyhaeya

SLACKING OFF. ( being technologically averse, yet a complete control freak to your core, you tend to annoy senior IT specialist, jeon wonwoo, to no end. but after an apology brings you two closer together, wonwoo finds himself reaching out to you more often than not. on and off slack. despite what you two had originally perceived, you find yourself thrown into feelings that neither of you could've ever prepared for.) @goldenhourology

Hong Jisoo

tough love? (boy dad!joshua, parents au, teeth rotting fluff, domestic asf) @mvnscloud

heaven knows (non-idol au, seminary student joshua, hurt/comfort (??), secret relationship, mentions of church, joshua is the pastor's son, mutual pining, physical touching (ex: hugging, holding hands), pet names (joshua calls reader baby), they are not slick your honor everyone knows they're in love) @seokminfilm

When Tangerines Give You Lemons (joshua fluff, joshua angst, joshua both, joshua breathing, joshua existing, non-idol!au, lawyer!au, hurt & comfort, angst first fluff later kinda; a warm rain after a heavy storm) @moonstarsunflower

Break (h.js) (Witch!Joshua x Cursed!Reader) @sailorsoons

dude, nice try! masterlist (strangers to lovers, revenge fic, humor, smau bits) @joshujin

starting again (you're wallowing in self-pity at your friends' wedding after being cheated on. you think you're unworthy of love until you meet someone who changes your mind.) @wonwootattoo

i can still see it all. (best friends to strangers to friends to lovers, non au, set in svtverse, idol!joshua, hairstylist!reader, some angst, nsfw, smut, unprotected sex, biting, hair pulling, dacryphilia, teasing, fingering, multiple orgasms, drunk sex, mentions of alcohol.) @woncheolisms

we both 🐚 (romance, friendship, light angst. 🐚 includes. mentions of food, death; cussing/swearing. alternate universe: non-idol; joshua is a marine biologist. bad-at-being-exes/exes to ???) @studioeisa

blurring the lines (you think you know everything about your best friend, dashing bachelor joshua hong. when you stumble upon his suggestive literature from his recent travels, however, reading even an extract is enough to make you question everything. unsure of your newfound feelings, you turn to your confidante, unaware of just how much knowledge—and experience—he has to offer.) @amourcheol

begging for the next (no one needs to know what you and joshua get up to except the two of you.) @100vern

Yoon Jeonghan

dropout | part one (okay, so you dropped out of law school. and you need a job. and the only job your wildly specific resume can get you is… lifeguard at the local 3.2-star water park, and the person assigned to supervise you at your new post is the mysterious and gorgeous yoon jeonghan. what could possibly go wrong? ) @kkaetnipjeon

always the lover, never the loved (lovers to ??? ; angst, mentions of suggestive themes) @haologram

Undue Influence (lawyer fem!reader x lawyer!jeonghan) @starlightxsvt

the final defense of the dying (hunger games mentor!jeonghan x tribute!reader.) @studioeisa (IM OBSESSED WITH THIS ONE)

Even Dumbasses Deserve Love (Yoon Jeonghan, your beautiful, wonderful, amazing, dumb-ass of a best friend who somehow doesn't see how hopelessly in love with him you are. ) @cheers-to-you-th

like starglight (howl’s moving castle-inspired au, fluff, humour, romance, magic!) @gallivantingheart

𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙙 (after an arranged marriage you come to realize that your new husband, the crown prince, and his kingdom are not like anything you expected) @yerimacoustic

Lee Seokmin

you deserve each other (co-workers seokmin x reader.) @studioeisa

Best Neighbor of All Time Award | Lee Seokmin (M) (Seokmin is the best neighbor you've ever had, making it impossible not to fall for his charms.) @drunk-on-dk

picture of a perfect rose (n total years of your whole life, you met Seokmin only twice. That will change drastically starting now. Because the young King is unfortunately a good person, loves his mother, and a true believer in good of people. No matter how hard it is to find and how cold he looks outside.) @youngwonhui

You Know What They Say About Men With Big Feet @hansols-yoda-boxers

Lee Chan

Cherry Sours (l.c) (Mafiaverse, Cyberpunk, Strangers to Lovers) @sailorsoons

CHWE HANSOL

Dark Gospel (c.hs) (After experiencing what you’re sure is a possession, you try to help Vernon get his old self back. Except - Vernon doesn’t want his old self back and you’re not sure you hate the new Vernon either. ) @sailorsoons

KISS 'ER UP (CHV) pt. 1 (baseball player!vernon x fashion designer/fan!reader) @shuastar

Kwan Soonyoung

in the zone | ksy (strangers to lovers, (accidental) roommates; smut, fluff, lite angst) @100vern

we can be all we need (best friends to lovers, idiots in love, a bit of miscommunication, angst for like one second, happy ending) @joshujin

the accidental kiss (fluff, comedy, strangers to lovers au, college au, idiots to idiots in love, profanity, alcohol consumption—please let me know if i’ve missed anything!) @fxstpace

busy woman @straylightdream

Echoes of Summer (Get ready for the most unforgettable summer yet at Camp Logan, where lifelong memories are made, friendships are strengthened, and old crushes make new appearances.) @mr-cha-n

red wine supernova (friends to lovers, childhood friend to lovers, romance, fluff, smut) @straylightdream

Xu Minghao

Rain Room (x.mh) (Waterpark Worker!Mingao x Waterpark Worker!Reader) @sailorsoons

the quiet world (minghao saves his words for you.) @studioeisa

[hinge]

Hinge presents an anthology of love stories almost never told. Read more on https://no-ordinary-love.co

[1800dojaejung]

In Case You Didn’t Know (M)

Pairing: Lee Chan x Fem!Reader

Summary: Chan has always been just one of your step-brother’s best friends. He’s also been in love with you for as long as everyone remembers, but you never paid him much mind - that is until you decide to return home after many years away and you see the man he’s become. He goes from being your little brother’s best friend to being the perfect man for you in a matter of months. Now the questions are who wants who more and will either of you do anything about your feelings?

Genres: Fluff, romance, smut, a little angst | AUs: Brother’s best friend au, roommates au, 90s au

Rating: 18+(MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED) | Words: 28.8k 🥴

Warnings: Profanity, alcohol use, will-they-won’t-they tension, a scene of reader x Lee Minhyuk (suggestive) and reader x Joshua (romantic) | Smut Warnings: unprotected sex, fingering (f.receiving), oral (f.receiving), thigh riding, praise, dirty talk, pet names (baby, babygirl, good boy), service top!Chan

Note: Written for the Now That’s 90s collab hosted by @beomcoups & @mingsolo ! I wanted to get this out for Christmas but my brain had other plans. I wanted to invoke a kind of cheesy Christmas romance movie feel to this while still keeping it 90s so that’s the vibe we’re going for! Thank you to the always amazing @wongyuseokie for the lovely banner 💙 And thank you @wooahaeproductions for beta reading my word vomit and helping me come up with this title! I love and appreciate you very much my beta/fic title queen! 💖 Also, I want to give giant sappy thank yous, hugs, and kisses to Bee, @horanghater, @onlymingyus, and @the-boy-meets-evil for all giving me pep talks and offering support throughout the process of this fic coming to exist. It’s my longest fic ever and I wanted to start over so many more times than I did so I appreciate and love y’all v much!! 🥹��🫶🏽

“Miss? We’re here,” The taxi driver's voice wakes you, bleary eyes focusing on the apartment building outside the car window. You hadn’t been sleeping that long, but it was long enough to make you tired after your fifteen-hour flight to Seoul. That, coupled with the heat of the taxi made you cozy enough to nap, but you’re finally looking forward to being out of a moving vehicle.

As the taxi driver unloads your suitcases from the trunk, you step out into the cold September air, and triple-check the address of the apartment building, comparing the number on the building in front of you to what’s written in your planner in hand. You had verified the address with your step-brother each time the two of you spoke on the phone leading up to your flight to Korea.

When you originally told Hansol that you decided that you were ready to quit your flight attendant career and move back home, your original plan was to move back in with your parents. Going into it, you knew well enough that the move would be annoying. You loved your mom and stepdad, but your mom was a bit of a helicopter mom growing up, so you can only imagine what living under her roof again would be like.

Luckily, you and your brother have always gotten along and been close, so instead of subjecting you to moving back home, he offered to let you move in with him and his roommate. Their third roommate was planning on moving out to live with his partner, so his room would be open for the taking. 

“It’d be so much easier than putting an ad in the paper or online and interviewing strangers. You and Chan are cool right?” Hansol had asked, referring to his other roommate. Lee Chan was one of his best friends since you all were kids. Other than his very loud and very obvious crush on you, you had no problem with Chan and gladly accepted the room offer.

After you and your brother made a plan for you to move in, you contacted your oldest and closest friend who had offered you job opportunities before, citing if you ever wanted to move back to South Korea, she would do her damndest to get you something. Needless to say, she was thrilled to hear your voice when you finally called and broke the news. 

The planning to get here seemed like it took forever, but now that you’re back with your feet on Seoul soil, you were happy. The journey of closing this chapter of your life was wrapping up. Now you will have a chance at doing something different for the next part of your life.

With both full-to-the-brim suitcases in hand, you roll them behind you into the building and to the elevator. The ride to the third floor is short and the walk to your brother’s apartment is even shorter.

Just as he had instructed, you lift the welcome mat to find a key waiting for you and use it to let yourself in. 

“Han?” You call your brother’s name once inside but don’t get a response. You can hear water running down the hall and see shoes by the door so he’s obviously home. 

Your eyes sweep over the living room as you take off your coat and boots. You’re surprised at just how clean the apartment is with two men in their mid-twenties living in it. The couch is a simple black fabric three-seater with a matching chair off to the side. A brown wood coffee table sits in front of both with a few magazines and two remotes on it. Presumably, for the TV and VCR sitting across the room from the seating. 

You had half expected to see clothes and movies strewn across the floor and furniture, but there’s none of that in sight. 

After hanging your coat on the rack by the door and leaving your boots with the other pair, you leave your suitcases in the foyer and start down the hallway, heading for what you assume is the bathroom. You’re not sure which room is Hansol’s, but he mentioned that he’d be home when you got in, so you plan on poking your head into each door until you find the one that so obviously screams Chwe Hansol.

The water cuts off in the bathroom as your socked feet pad across the carpet and you make a pitstop at the bathroom, figuring you’ll just meet your brother there instead.

“Hansol?” You raise a hand to knock on the door at the same time that it swings open. It is most certainly not your brother on the other side.

Out of the bathroom, clad in only a fluffy white towel slung low on his hips, steps your brother’s roommate and best friend Lee Chan.

The same Lee Chan that you’ve known since he was in grade school when his hair was spiked, his eyes were too far apart and his head was too big for his body. The same one that’s been hopelessly in love with you since he and his family moved in next door to you and Hansol when he was ten. You of course have had to turn him down all of your life. Other than the fact that he’s a few years younger than you, he was always just your brother’s awkward but sweet best friend. You remember exactly how he looked and how he acted - like a kid.

This Lee Chan though is different. This Lee Chan very clearly works out. His arms are muscular and buff. He has defined pecs and abs that are still covered in flecks of water that are dripping down his built body. Dripping down to the light dusting of hair leading from his belly button and underneath the towel.

This Lee Chan has a strong jaw, pouty lips, and dark hair that hangs in his eyes. This Lee Chan is one of the finest men you’ve ever seen in your life - and a man he most certainly is. Your eyes unabashedly sweep over his mouth-watering frame until you meet his brown eyes and you remember instantly that this is still the Lee Chan that you should absolutely not be looking at like this. 

“Oh! Y/n!” His voice is much deeper than you remember and it sits heavy in the pit of your stomach.

“Chan! Sorry, I thought you were Hansol! He said he’d be home when I got in.” You clear your throat, trying to get a grip on yourself. 

“Oh yeah, he got called into work at the last minute. He left you a note on the fridge.” 

“Oh, okay.”

The two of you stand there for a moment, neither of you speaking.

“Well uh, let me get dressed and then I can give you a tour of the apartment and your room. I’m heading out soon to meet up with some friends, but I have time.” 

“Only if you want to! I don't want to hold you up!”

“You won’t, promise! Just give me a few minutes.”

Chan flashes you a smile that fills up his whole face and you can’t help but notice how handsome he looks.

You nod and scurry to the opposite side of the hallway, realizing that you’re still trapping him in the doorway of the bathroom. You watch him walk into what you can only assume is his room and go back into the living room, waiting for him on the couch. 

You’re thankful for him needing to take a few minutes because you need some time yourself as well. The fact that this man is the same boy that you grew up alongside is a lot to wrap your head around. 

The two of you have always gotten along. He was a sweet kid even though all he did was follow you around at any moment he could. He was funny and probably one of Hansol’s most respectful friends which you appreciate, given that his friend group was all just a bunch of rowdy boys, but you’ve never thought about him like that in all the time that you knew him. 

Over the years, there have been a few times where you’d see him in pictures your mom would email or mail to you whenever you were somewhere for a long period of time. The last time you’d come home for the holidays was three years ago and you saw Chan briefly, but from what you recall, he just looked like some guy to you when you had seen him. He did not look like this then and he certainly hadn’t been this good-looking growing up or maybe you would have entertained something with him. 

That thought is only fleeting and you have to calm your heart (and your pussy) from reacting to seeing him like this. He’s still your little brother’s best friend and he’s now your roommate, and in no way can anything happen. That is messy on so many levels. 

This sudden onslaught of want has to be because you’re just that desperate for a romantic connection with someone. Or you just need to get laid. Trying to maintain any semblance of a relationship in your line of work proved to be harder than you’d think.

For the past almost 10 years of working in the sky, you’ve had your fair share of hookups here and there. Your last was a fun, albeit messy, fling with a new pilot you were often on the same flights with named Kevin. He was handsome and funny and easy to get along with, but that didn’t end well, seeing how he got right to work hooking up with all the other flight attendants on his flights. You weren’t sure if commitment in the form of officially being boyfriend and girlfriend was what you wanted with him, but you had gone out of your way to make sure you weren’t sleeping around or seeing other people when the two of you got together. He didn’t agree with that.

Before Kevin, there was another flight attendant you were often on the same flights as. Krystal was sweet and the two of you had grown close, but she wanted to keep your relationship a secret from everyone all of the time. You had known going into it that you were still in a time where people were weird about queer people, but you also didn’t care that much. She did though, and ended up calling it off mostly due to paranoia.

Then there was the wealthy businessman, Jacob. He was an amazing guy and an even more amazing lay, but he wanted you to quit your job and move to Canada with him. This was a bit earlier in your career so you were nowhere near ready to abandon it all. He didn’t like that and would get into huge fights with you about it until you finally broke it off.

There were other tries and fails, but the moral of the story is that dating was damn near impossible for you for most of your adult life. Now that you’re planning on finally settling somewhere, you need to get back onto the dating scene and stop lusting over someone you should not be drooling over.

Chan comes out of his room then, dressed and hair styled. He’s clad in denim jeans and a white, long-sleeved shirt and somehow your eyes still sweep over him as if he’s still standing in front of you in a towel. 

He doesn’t seem to notice your ogling since he simply flashes you a wide smile and beckons you to follow him into the next room.

“So, the apartment isn’t anything too fancy. We’ve got the kitchen around the corner here; if you go through that door, that’s the balcony. There’s a couple of chairs and a drying rack out there - nothing very interesting.” He points around the simple kitchen, gesturing to the sliding door next to the fridge leading to the balcony. Chan walks in front of you again to lead you back out into the living room and you can’t help but catch a whiff of his cologne. The warm, woodsy scent makes you groan internally, and yet again, you need to check yourself.

He gestures to the living room, mentioning the entertainment center and their VHS collection. He mentions that your brother made a space for you under the sink in the bathroom for you to put some of your things. Chan points out the small closet next to the bathroom where they keep extra towels and linens and the washing machine which sits in a small nook next to that closet.

The room directly across from the bathroom belongs to Hansol, and when looking inside you see that’s obvious. Posters line the walls and CDs and books are piled on the dark wood desk in the corner. Clothes are strewn about on the floor along with a few pairs of sneakers. Since the rest of the apartment is cleaned up, clearly Hansol reserves the mess for his own space.

The second room next to Hansol’s is Chan’s. He lets you poke your head in and you’re surprised at how neat it is, much like the main area of the apartment. It’s safe to assume that Chan must be in charge of keeping things neat or at least keeping your notoriously messy brother in line. 

The last room at the end of the hall is yours. It previously belonged to Seungkwan, another one of Hansol’s best friends and their former roommate. It’s clean and neat, with a desk against the wall on one side and a made-up bed on the other. A dresser sits near the closet next to a full-length mirror. Otherwise, there’s not much else in it.

“Oh! Let me grab your bags! I should’ve offered.” Chan ignores your protest telling him not to worry about it and goes to get your suitcases anyway.

He wheels them down the hall and into your room as you grab your backpack and purse and follow behind him.

“Thanks, Chan.” He leaves your luggage by the door and smiles at you again.

“No worries, Y/n,” Chan checks his watch before announcing that he’s about to leave. “ If you need anything, Hansol should be back later this afternoon and I know he keeps the number to his work line on the fridge. I’ll probably be home in the evening, but otherwise, the apartment is yours since you live here now.” Chan waves at you as he leaves your room and you take a seat on the chair in front of the desk, listening as he collects his things and shouts another goodbye, closing, and locking the front door behind him.

The apartment is quiet when it’s just you and the temptation to sprawl out onto the bed and take a nap is so real, but instead, you force yourself up and out into the living room. You know that you should call your mom and let her know you’ve landed, but you also know she’ll talk your ear off if she answers, and you’re not really in the mood for that.

Instead, you pick up the phone on the side table and call your childhood best friend Jinah, intending to coordinate a time to meet and catch up. When she doesn’t answer you leave a message, letting her know this phone number and that you’ve made it to Seoul. There are a few other friends you need to connect with, but that can wait until later. 

For now, you decide that a hot shower is calling you. Admittedly, it takes a few minutes for you to figure out how the shower works, but when you do, you’re more than thankful for the opportunity to clear your head and finally relax. You’ve been frazzled and stressed for months leading up to quitting your career and moving back home, but now that it’s done and you’re here, you feel as though you get a little bit of breathing room.

You still have the matter of getting a new job, which Jinah will be helping you with, and eventually, you need to figure out where you’ll move after you’re back on your feet since you don’t plan on making staying with your brother permanent, but for now, the biggest hurdle of moving back across the globe has been crossed. 

After your shower, you make note of how your stomach growls, but decide to get a little unpacking done first. You already know that if you don’t at least start, your suitcases may sit in this room for days until you have the willpower to put things away. After digging your discman out of your backpack, you pop in an Aaliyah CD and get to work. 

You only get as far as folding your underwear and bras and putting those in the dresser before you’re stretching out on the bed and telling yourself you’ll only close your eyes for a moment before resuming. 

Your head feels groggy when you open your eyes, sit up, and take in your surroundings. For a moment, you forget where you are, until you remember you’re in your new room in Seoul. Sun shines through the curtains covering your window and you spot your discman on the nightstand next to your head. 

When you poke your head out of your room, you can hear soft sounds from the TV in the living room, but before you investigate, you take a detour to the bathroom to brush your teeth.

“Look who’s returned to the land of the living!” Hansol greets you when you finally make your way into the living room. He’s lounging on the couch, watching a variety show, but quickly gets up to pull you into a hug.

“Hey, Sol. What time is it?”

“Ten.”

“In the morning?!” You blink at the window with the curtains drawn open, frowning at the sunlight coming into the room. “I got in at noon yesterday!”

Hansol chuckles as you plop onto the couch next to him. “Yep. I tried to wake you when I got home yesterday, but you just grumbled at me and turned back over. I put your discman on the nightstand so you wouldn’t knock it off or anything so you’re welcome.” 

“Damn, guess I was just that tired.”

“Yeah, Chan tried to get you up too, but you didn’t budge. He brought dinner home but not even food could get you up.” Hansol laughs, thankfully not noticing the way his words fluster you. The thought of Chan seeing you sprawled out on your bed, mouth likely open as you slept is embarrassing. You quickly have to remind yourself that he is your roommate so he’s bound to see you sleeping and to get over it.

“That explains why it feels like there’s a gaping hole in the pit of my stomach.”

“Don’t worry, there’s leftover pizza in the fridge for you. And I’m sure there’s some other stuff to tide you over until later.”

“Where’s Chan now?”

“Work. Same place I’m about to go. It’s my turn for dinner tonight so I’ll bring chicken home with me.”

“Ugh, I haven’t had good fried chicken since I was in the States and we landed in Atlanta, Georgia for a while.”

“I got you. There’s a really good place not far from the apartment.”

“You’re the best, Sol.”

“I know,” your brother boasts, getting off the couch to stretch. 

“Oh! Mom called last night for you. She’s pissed you didn’t call her when you got here.”

Letting out a groan, you roll your eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure. I just didn’t have it in me to listen to her tell me a story that I’ve probably already heard ten times. I’ll call her later after I finish unpacking. I already know she’s gonna want me to come over.”

“Oh, she does. She wants us both over tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?! She didn’t even ask if that works!”

“She didn’t, but that’s because she knows I’m off work tomorrow and in her words, ‘it’s not like your sister has any obligations yet, so you can come over close to lunch.’” 

Hansol’s recounting of your mom’s words forces another eye roll out of you, but you’ll both be there and you already know it.

“I’m running to the bathroom then I’ll get ready to head out. Here, have fun.” He hands you the TV remote before disappearing into the bathroom. 

Before you can get comfortable, you pull your tired body from the couch to grab leftovers and eat before your mom calls again, inevitably nagging you about not calling her earlier.

As expected when you settle back down to call, your mom picks up the phone on the first ring and spends the next ten minutes chastising you for not calling her when you landed. You apologize multiple times, assuring her that both you and Hansol will visit her tomorrow. 

Also as expected she talks your ear off for about twenty minutes, giving you updates that you know she’ll tell you about again tomorrow. Thankfully, the mailman shows up in the middle of another story about the neighbor she’s been having a holiday decoration war with for the last three years in a row so she lets you go, saying she’s happy to see you tomorrow.

Jinah is next on your call list and she also picks up after a few rings, cheering as soon as she hears your voice, celebrating your arrival in Seoul. 

“I’m so happy we’re in the same timezone again!”

“Me too. I don’t even remember the last time we got to sit and chat.”

“I want to say it was when we were both in Spain last year. You had that day-long layover and I was out there for Fashion Week.”

“Oh, you’re right! You met that guy at that mall we went to.”

“Mmm, Ricky! He was so sweet. He still calls me sometimes. I don’t always answer, but he tries.” Jinah giggles, no doubt at some memory of her and the model she easily picked up that day.

She shifts around on the other line. “Oh damn, as much as I want to catch up with you babe, I’m about to head out for a meeting. Can we meet up tomorrow?”

“Yeah, if you can do it late in the afternoon? My mom wants me and Hansol to come over tomorrow. She already chewed my head off for not calling her when I got in.”

“Oh, Mrs. Chwe. Well, after you’re done with family time, let’s meet up! There’s a new bakery that opened in Hongdae that I haven’t tried yet. We can go together since it’s not too far from your parents’ place.”

“Please! I am craving a croissant actually.” Jinah tells you the address which you quickly write down, agreeing to meet tomorrow afternoon.

With that call over, you decide to finally bite the bullet and finish unpacking your things so you can stop thinking about it. It doesn’t take very long, seeing how your whole life was packed away in two suitcases, a backpack, and a purse. You make a mental note to do some decoration shopping for your room once you have the funds and decide to reward yourself with TV time. 

You didn’t get to catch up on many shows always being on the go, so you plan to spend your time now getting in the know and watching as many reruns as you can catch. Among other things, not being in the sky for 90% of your time will offer you the opportunity to take things much slower. You’re used to always either being on a plane, spending a few nights in hotels or short-term rental places, or rushing between all of these destinations, so you plan on doing the complete opposite with your new schedule now.

You’re stretched out on the couch, enjoying an episode of one of the new dramas everyone around you has mentioned when you fall asleep again, your eyelids unable to concentrate for long.

You don’t even realize you’ve fallen asleep until you feel yourself being slightly shaken, your eyes cracking open to see Chan staring down at you. When your eyes finally adjust you get a better look at him and note how handsome he looks in his leather jacket and beanie. Why is that even the first thing you thought?

“Hey, sleepyhead. We’re home and we have dinner.”

“Dinner?”

“Yeah, fried chicken!” You sit up, groggily rubbing your eyes and you see Hansol coming into the living room, bag in hand.

You step away to freshen up, fixing your hair and splashing some water on your face. Your brother and Chan have already set up the chicken and beer on the coffee table, taking their seats on the floor around the table as Hansol flips through TV channels.

Plopping on the floor across from Chan, Hansol pulls a can of soda out of the bag next to you, sliding it over your way. You eagerly open it, thanking him for remembering your lack of enthusiasm about drinking, and grab a piece of chicken.

“So, Y/n,” Chan starts, his full attention on you. “What brought you back to Seoul? When we talked about you moving in, Hansol told me you wanted to quit and move home, but I didn’t ask why.” 

“I was just ready for something more stable, is all. Traveling the world is fun and I didn’t hate my job - I met a ton of new and interesting people - but at some point, I just got tired of never having a true place that is mine. I mean, I’ve been doing this since I was twenty. There are only so many hotels and rental places a person can do until they get tired of the constant movement.”

“That makes sense. When I went abroad during my first year of college I got super homesick so I ended up coming back. Some of our friends said I was lame for coming back, but I don’t know, I’ve always loved Korea you know? It’s where I grew up and I feel safe and secure here. I guess I just needed time away to decide what I wanted to do.”

You nod along, understanding what he means. You didn’t know too much about Chan after you graduated and left Korea, so it was nice to learn a little more about him.

“I get that, I mean we see I’m back now after all these years. Some people just gravitate back to where they came from.”

“Yeah, I was just surprised when Hansol mentioned you coming back. I remember you being so excited after graduation because you knew what you wanted to do already and I know you just wanted to see something else other than here.” Chan smiles at you gently. The fact that he remembers how you were feeling after graduation is sweet to you.

“I was excited and I don’t regret what I chose to do. It was fun but ended up not being my end-all-be-all, which is okay. But anyway, enough about me! Hansol told me that you own a dance studio?”

“Oh, yeah. I took over my dad’s dance studio. He’s still around, but I own it. We’re talking about expanding and making it an actual dance company. People from all over Korea come to the studio, so if we can find more spaces and good instructors we can open another here and even abroad.”

“That’s amazing, Chan! You always loved to dance. I’m glad you’re able to do it full-time.” The tips of Chan’s ears redden at your compliment and he takes a long swig of his beer. 

“Thanks, Y/n.”

“Of course. I only hope that now that I’m back I can find the next thing that I want to do. My friend Jinah, I don’t know if you guys remember her, but she’s going to get me a job at the modeling agency she works at. It’ll probably just be something in the office until I find something else or figure out my next move.”

“Well, you’ve always been really smart and ambitious so I’m sure you’ll find something you’re good at now that you’re back.”

“Thank you, Chan.” You feel your face heat up at his words.

The two of you seem to share a moment where you both glance down at your food, then back up at each other every few minutes.

Hansol suddenly clears his throat as if reminding you both that he’s sitting right in between you.

“Things at my job are going well thanks for asking.”

You both snap out of whatever that moment was and recover by asking Hansol how he likes his new responsibilities, recalling the raise he got recently at work. Hansol’s worked for the same newspaper company for the past four years and you know he’s done his best to gain a good reputation at the company and that he works hard. 

You do your best to avoid the questioning look he’s passing between the two of you and instead take a big bite of the chicken wing in front of you.

“It’s good. I write movie reviews now which is cool. I get to see a bunch of movies that come out before the general public for free. It’s much better than the random articles they had me working on before this promotion.”

“I’m proud of you, Sol.” You reach over to ruffle his hair with the hand not touching your food, ignoring the groan he lets out at the action. “Maybe one day you can bring your big sister to one of these early movie showings?”

“Tch, good luck. He won’t even bring me,” Chan mumbles, taking another sip of beer.

“I’m watching movies for work, thank you very much.” Hansol rolls his eyes at the way that Chan sticks his tongue out at him playfully. “Speaking of work, Y/n, make sure you let me know soon if Jinah can’t get you into her company. We have some openings that popped up recently and I’m sure I can get you in if you need it.”

“I will. We’re gonna hang out tomorrow after we see Mom and Dad and I’ll ask her more about it then.”

The three of you spend the rest of dinner watching TV and spend more time catching up. Hansol talks about some upcoming articles he has to work on, Chan goes over more plans for expanding his father’s dance studio, and the men both question you about all the places you’ve traveled to and everything you did as a flight attendant. 

After dinner, you help clean up the trash before deciding to go to bed. Your internal clock is still readjusting to a semi-normal schedule, so you need at least a few more days before you can stay up later than 9 PM.

“Goodnight, guys,” You wave at the boys, heading down the hall into your room. You’ll take a shower in the morning - for now, you just want to rest.

Once you’re in your room, the door shut, Hansol eyes Chan as the man casts a few glimpses down the hall. He chuckles, getting his best friend’s attention.

“What?”

“Your crush is still showing, you know.”

Frowning, Chan looks between Hansol and the hallway before fixing his gaze on the TV.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Hansol scoffs at him but drops it. He knows Chan well enough to know when he’s lying through his teeth, but he won’t press it.

“Whatever you say, dude.” Hansol shrugs, announcing that he’s going to get ready for bed too. Chan stays in the living room, staring at the TV for a little while longer, but not taking in the show.

All he can think about is the fact that he is very much still into you and he’s never actually stopped. When Hansol brought up you moving in with them, he had no problem with it. You’re his best friend’s sister who needs help, of course, he wouldn’t say no. Chan figured that it would be nice to get to know you more as an adult since all of the knowledge he has of you is the person you were from middle school to high school and the things he hears Hansol or the Chwes say about what you are doing or where you are.

He knew it would be nice to catch up and spend time with you because you’ve always gotten along and you were always nice to him. He hadn’t expected his decade-old crush to creep back into his heart the moment he laid eyes on you, but it did. Chan doesn’t know what to do with these feelings so for now, he’ll squash them down the same way he has since he was ten. He’s more than used to it by now.

“My Y/n!” 

It’s the first thing out of your mom’s mouth when she opens the front door, sweeping you up into a hug. She rocks you back and forth telling you how much she missed you.

“Wow, she never hugs me like that,” Hansol murmurs behind you as he steps inside and starts taking his shoes off.

“Oh, hush Sollie! I saw you two weeks ago. I haven’t seen your sister in two years!” 

She does end up reaching over to pull Hansol into a hug of his own, once she decides you can breathe again. Your stepdad follows a minute after, hugging you for a much more normal amount of time, but also makes sure to let you know he’s personally offended that you haven’t been home in so long.

As anticipated, your mom has a full spread of food waiting on the table and ushers you and Hansol to sit and eat. Also as expected, she gives you the third degree, wanting to know about your work, your plans, and everything in between, which includes your nonexistent love life. You appease her and keep it short and simple: you’re hearing from Jinah soon about a position, you plan on doing that for at least the next year or two to save up enough money to move into a place of your own, and you’re single and have been for months.

This turns into an almost two-hour visit. If your parents aren’t asking you about your travels or asking Hansol about his job, they’re circling back to you and the fact that ‘now that you’re home and getting situated, you can think about eventually settling down. Since you’re almost thirty.’

You keep to yourself that you have had pretty lackluster luck when it comes to dating overall, but your mom still finds opportunities to sprinkle in that she could ask around to her friends about whose sons may be single, and you tell her you don’t need the help (even though you know she’ll likely do it anyway). 

Eventually, you manage to get your parents to talk about themselves and get them to update you on things in the house they’re fixing up, how your dad is doing at work, and some new crochet projects your mom is working on.

Even though they can smother you at times, you know they both do what they do out of love - especially your mom. You did miss your parents at the end of the day and they mean well. They love you and Hansol and have missed you terribly - the latter a fact that your mom made sure to reiterate over and over again.

Before you leave, your mom repeats how happy she is that you’re back home, especially in time for the holidays, and truthfully, so are you. You love holidays because you love decorating and you love all of the themed things that come with holidays. Hansol mentions that he and Chan have never really worried about decorating their apartment, which you immediately informed him will change this year. You plan on decorating the apartment for Halloween and will turn it into a winter wonderland come November. Your brother knows you well enough not to argue and simply laughs, shrugging and telling you to go crazy.

After you finally manage to escape from your parents’ house, you and Hansol split up. He’s going to meet up with some friends and will meet you at home later, he says. You take a cab for the short ride to the coffee shop you and Jinah are meeting at and you notice you’ve arrived first when you don’t see anyone that resembles her.

You’ve only sat down for less than a minute when she sweeps into the shop with her long coat, big sunglasses, and beanie. She slips the sunglasses down her nose and peers around before meeting your eyes. A smile breaks out across her red-painted lips and she rushes over to you. She looks as pretty as she did growing up and it warms your heart. It makes complete sense that she’s such a prolific model now.

“Y/n!” She says your name when making it to the table and pulling you into a hug.

“Hey, Jinah! It’s so good to see you!”

“You too! It’s been too long and I hate it.” She pouts at you as she moves to her seat, shedding her coat, and hanging it on the back of her chair.

“I know, I know. But I’m here now.”

“You are and you’re gonna get sick of seeing me so much! Especially, if you get a spot at the company! I’m still waiting for my boss to get back to me about your resume.”

“Ugh, I hope it’s soon. I’m not picky about what’s open honestly, I just need something.”

“Well you know I’ll call you as soon as I get some info. I’m sure they’ll hire you. I’m noted as your referral and everyone loves me there!”

Before you dive into more chit chat, you pause the conversation, wanting to order coffee. Jinah takes your order and goes to the counter herself, quickly coming back with two hot cups of caffeine.

“Okay, so no more work talk. How is it living with a couple of twenty-something boys after jetsetting all around the world?”

“Not so bad really. The apartment is surprisingly clean and put together. Me and Hansol have always been close, you know so it’s good so far. And Chan is cool - we’ve always gotten along. He was always around growing up so I’m used to having him in my space anyway. He’s different now of course, but uh, yeah you know.”

You stumble, just slightly on your last sentence and something flashes in Jinah’s eyes, her perfectly waxed brows rising almost immediately. You forgot about the fact that no matter how long you two spend apart, she’s still your best friend and she knows you almost as well as she knows herself.

“He’s different?” There’s a tilt in her voice that you don’t recall having in your words.

“I didn’t say it like that!”

“Yes, the hell you did! He’s different how? All I remember about your brother’s best friend is some skinny, big-headed kid that followed us around at school and whenever I was over your house.”

You bite your lip, assessing Jinah and if there’s any way you can steer the conversation elsewhere. 

No such luck arrives for you though as she sits there, unwavering as she patiently waits for you to tell her the truth. You already know she won’t leave it alone if you don’t.

Begrudgingly, you give in, letting out a heavy sigh. “Fine, whatever, he’s fucking hot now, okay?! I’ve only been there like three days and any time I run into him he’s nothing but polite and considerate. He’s always been nice but he’s mature now. It’s just so different.”

“Hmph. So, you think he’s mature and polite and hot now? Got it.” She nods, taking a sip of her coffee, and swallowing slowly before speaking. “So do you think you’ll finally give him a chance?”

“Absolutely not! He’s younger than me and not only my brother’s best fucking friend but we’re roommates now. The level of messiness went from 80% to 180% if something goes wrong between us.”

“Yeah, but the chances of things going well also go from 80% to 180% too, right?”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“But you’re both adults! What does it matter? Do you think Hansol will care?”

“I don’t know. But again, the main problem is if Chan and I only end up being a hookup or one of us wants something that the other doesn’t then living with the man will be incredibly awkward, and once again, he and my brother are best friends. Things won’t only be awkward for us, but I don’t want to drag Sol into that mess either. So it’s in everyone’s best interest that I keep my mouth and my legs closed and don’t even think about trying anything with Chan.”

Jinah hums and clearly disagrees but she doesn’t press it. Not that she has to because just like she knows you, you know her, and you know she has so many objections rattling around in her head.

“Anyway, time to hear about you! Tell me about your love life! Is it busy? Are you seeing anyone? Are you sleeping with anyone? I want to know everything about Im Jinah’s romantic endeavors.”

Your best friend clicks her tongue at you, noticing the obvious conversation redirect, but she obliges. She talks about a guy she’s mentioned to you before that she works with that she’s been on a few dates with. As an aside, she mentions that there are plenty of hot, single people at her company that you’ll run into, but you wave that part off.

She mentions that she needs to go shopping this upcoming weekend for a Halloween costume for a party a friend of hers is throwing at the end of October. She also addsthat you too, will be going to said party with her.

“I am?”

“You are. So, this weekend we’ll be getting costumes. A guy I’ve done a ton of ads and shoots with has a party every year and you’ll be my plus one! He’s super nice and pretty wealthy so his place is really nice.”

You do love Halloween and you haven’t really gotten to do much to celebrate it the last handful of years, so you agree to go, even though you knew she would’ve hounded you about going for days anyway. You saved both of you some trouble.

On the topic of Christmas, the two of you get caught up in talking about needing to figure out what to get people and when to go shopping to get ahead of it. You easily fall into conversation with your best friend, your subject changing every few minutes as you laugh and properly get caught up until you’ve both got two empty coffee cups each.

Eventually, Jinah glances at her watch and curses. 

“Damn, I’ve got another meeting to run to. My manager and I have been meeting with a few magazines for some last-minute holiday ads they want to shoot for. “I’ll be sure to badger her about any news on your resume okay?”

You and Jinah exchange your goodbyes and you promise to chat in a few days if you don’t hear from her sooner. Even though she’s busy, she cites she’ll still be sure to make time for the two of you to hang out more. You both walk out of the shop together and with a goodbye hug, you both go your separate ways. Her to grab a taxi and you to the train station to head back home.

Chan really thought he was done with big life revelations. His last and biggest was deciding that college and a traditional degree weren’t what he wanted. After that, a bunch of smaller decisions hit him but no combination of realizations, big or small, could’ve prepared him for the fact that he’s still hopelessly in love with the same girl for the last almost fifteen years.

But seeing you again was like someone doused him with a gallon of cold water to the face. Shocking and jarring and nothing could’ve prepared him. Not for the way his eyes almost bugged out of his head upon seeing you again after what felt like far too long or the way his palms got sweaty just being close to you, even though he had just finished a shower before seeing you.

Chan was so sure that he was over you. He’s had plenty of partners over the years. Some serious and some not so much, but he doesn’t think he’s ever compared any of those people to you. It’s been years so surely he isn’t still hung up on his best friend’s older sister.

Unfortunately for him, that is exactly what he is and he’s not sure what to do with this information. A tiny voice in the back of his mind keeps telling him he’s a loser for not being over his childhood crush who has never reciprocated the feelings anyway. Never once have you made any indication that you thought of Chan the same, so it’s not as though you’re going to magically do it now…right?

His mind is so wrapped up in you that he keeps fumbling with the moves he practices at work in preparation for a dance class in a few days. He lets out another frustrated huff as he watches himself in the mirror trip over his feet yet again.

Chan’s close friend and co-choreographer at the studio walks over to the boombox at the side of the room, cutting off the music and staring him down.

“Okay, where’s your head, Chan?” Soonyoung looks at him pointedly. “You’ve been distracted since you get here and keep fucking up.” He waits for an answer, hands on his hips. 

Chan hesitates for a moment, wondering if he wants to repeat his early years - where he would tell anyone who would listen that he was in love with Y/n Chwe. This is different though, this is his friend checking on him so he decides to tell Soonyoung.

“The girl I’ve loved since I was ten is back in town.”

“Okay?”

“And I still love her.”

“And? You’re both adults now so you can do something about it right?”

“And she’s living with me. We’re roommates now.”

“And?” Soonyoung rolls his eyes, still not seeing too much of an issue with this.

“She, uh, she’s Hansol’s sister.”

Soonyoung cocks his head to the side in thought. “Okay…well what’s the problem? Hansol is super chill. Do you think he’ll be mad about it?”

“I don’t know. I know Hansol more than almost anybody, but for some reason, I’m still really stressed about how he’ll react.”

“You could always ask him?” Soonyoung tries, offering Chan a bottle of water from the cooler across the room.

“I don’t know. I mean, even if I do and he’s okay with it, what if I ask her out and she says no? She had never liked me like that when we were young. I was always just her brother’s snot-nosed best friend.”

“I get being worried about that, but you’re grown now. Maybe things can be different?”

“Yeah, but if she turns me down, I don’t want to make things awkward for us all living together. And even if I am in some bizarre universe where she is into me too, I could very well fuck this up and she’ll want nothing to do with me and we’ll break up and it’ll still be awkward and then Hansol could not want to be my friend anymore or want me to move out and then what?” Chan ends his rant with a grunt, sliding against the mirror until he plops onto the hardwood floor. Soonyoung comes over and joins him, sitting cross-legged next to his friend.

“This has really been on your mind huh?”

“Hard for it not to be when she is as beautiful as always and sleeping in the room right next to me now.”

“Well, even though I’ve never been through something like this, my advice? Maybe try to just take it slow. Hang out with her more, test the waters, and see if she reciprocates. If so, then either keep getting closer or ask her out and go from there. What’s the point in constant what-ifs you know? Maybe you’re getting a second chance now that you’re both adults and in good places in your life. And sure you might fuck it up, but you also might not. You’ll never know if you don’t try.” Soonyoung shrugs, taking a gulp of water.

Chan side-eyes his friend, genuinely surprised at his words. 

“Since when did you turn into a relationship expert with actual good advice?”

Soonyoung chokes on his water, coughing loudly to recover. “What do you mean actual good advice?! I give good advice all the time!”

“Tsk, just like that so-called, good advice you gave me that one time we went to the club and you told me I should start a dance battle with that girl that was flirting with me?”

The man looks genuinely offended, hand flying to his chest in surprise. 

“First of all, I was drunk! Second of all, that was a good idea. She said she liked dancers!”

“Yeah, but I think she meant slow, sensual dancing like we had been doing all night before you swooped in with your so-called, good advice.”

“Whatever! Don’t take my advice and pine over this woman for another decade. Just decide so you can stop fucking up this dance!” Soonyoung pushes him over, making him land on his side, but the push is more playful than anything.

While Soonyoung may not have a great track record of steering Chan in the right direction, he mulls it over for the rest of the day after getting back to practicing. He ultimately decides that maybe Soonyoung is right. He won’t do anything weird or out of the ordinary. He’ll just be himself and try to spend more time with you and hopefully be able to show you the real him. The him that’s a mid-twenties career man with a plan and a future, who’s much more mature than from when you used to know him. 

If he’s lucky, he won’t make a fool out of himself and if you’re not into him still, you’ll at least let him down gently. If he’s super lucky, you’ll feel the same way about him and he’ll finally get to call you his.

He’s not going to hold his breath, but he’ll regret it once again if he doesn’t at least try with you, unlike he failed to do when he was young and dumb.

Getting the call three days later from Jinah that you got a job at her agency was the best news you’ve gotten in a very long time. Her boss manages to get you a role in their travel department. You’d be working with the assistants of the models to help get their travel booked, manage their transportation, and help arrange all things travel related. While you don’t have any office experience, your flight attendant experience seems to be enough to get you into the role and you weren’t about to argue with that.

As soon as you start, you consider yourself lucky that you seem to fall into the team you’re on easily. It’s not difficult to get comfortable and find your place which makes getting settled all that much simpler. Plus, the pay is decent, and even a little more than what you previously made, so you can’t complain about that.

Jinah uses the Halloween party she told you about as an excuse to go out with you again and an excuse to celebrate your job. Hansol and Chan had already gotten you a small cake to celebrate which was extremely sweet, so you don’t mind celebrating with Jinah. 

The cake, you learn in passing from Hansol, was Chan’s idea. It’s only one thing on the long list of ways that Chan has succeeded in getting closer to you over the weeks that it takes you to get settled in. You’ve spent time with Chan as a kid when he was around all the time, but you really get the chance to know him now that you’re adults living together.

You learn most, if not all of his likes and dislikes. His favorite colors, favorite foods, movies he likes, and celebrities he can’t stand (his one-sided rivalry with Lee Byunghun is especially funny to you since he also compliments his acting whenever one of his movies is on). He’s constantly making you laugh, always asking how your day was when you see each other in the evenings, and he always says good morning and asks how you slept when you get up for the day. On nights when he has to get dinner for you all, he always asks if there’s any food you're craving because he promises he’ll pick it up or make it (and he always does every time). 

On the weekends, when you’re home relaxing and sleeping in, and if he works, he has started to call home often and ask if you need him to grab anything on the way home, be it medicine, food, a video rental, or anything in between. Chan makes it a habit to check in with you even more than your brother, which Hansol calls out one night over dinner. Chan’s cheeks go red and he throws a wayward shrimp at his best friend but doesn’t deny it, citing that he just wants to help you be comfortable.

If he isn’t checking on you or buying you small things, he’s making sure your laundry is washed if he’s doing his and that your favorite mug (the yellow one with the fried eggs print all over it) is always washed. He makes sure your favorite snacks are in the apartment and that you’re never without anything you need - even finding out your preferred brand of tampons and pads and wordlessly getting them for you.

By the time the end of October rolls around, you’ve been living with Chan and your brother for a month and your feelings for Chan are only growing, much to your utter dismay. You don’t want to like him, for the multitude of reasons you’ve already outlined in your head and to Jinah, but he makes it damn near impossible. If he’s not being the most sweet and polite man you’ve ever been around, he’s walking around the apartment shirtless from time to time or coming back from the gym or work sweaty and flushed with his arms on display.

He constantly treats you like a true gentleman would, carrying groceries for you and doing any heavy lifting around the apartment that comes up. It may be the bare minimum, but Chan treats you better as someone you’re not dating than anyone you actually have dated. You’re in a constant battle between your coochie and your heart about your array of feelings for Lee Chan and it’s only serving to drive you crazier each day. 

On the night of Halloween, when Jinah is in your room with you getting ready for her friend’s party, she teases that Chan may not be able to hold himself back when he sees you.

“I don’t know, Y/n. Your ass does look really good in this jumpsuit.” You admire your figure in your mirror, admiring how the soft yet clingy fabric does, in fact, do your ass justice.

You and Jinah decided to go with a theme for your costumes. She’s going as an angel, complete with a white mini-dress, wings, and a halo. You went with a devil, the red, clingy jumpsuit you wear hugs every part of your body that you’d wanna show off and the zipper in the front is open just enough to accentuate your cleavage. The horns attached to the headband on your head sit comfortably and are the finishing touch.

Yes, you’re not supposed to want Chan to like you because it’ll make it that much harder for you, but you don’t mind the idea of him looking.

“Ready?” You ask when you’re finally done with your makeup, making sure your red lipstick is perfect.

“Yep! Let me call a car for us!” You and Jinah leave your room and she fishes her Nokia from her white bag. 

When you step into the living room, you nearly trip over your feet upon seeing Chan lounging on the couch, flipping through TV channels. You know he and Hansol are also going out tonight to their friend Junhui’s Halloween party, but you hadn’t discussed your costumes. 

His black t-shirt is as tight as your jumpsuit is and displays every muscle and ripple in his arms and chest and you even swear you can make out the faint outline of his abs. The black pants he wears are baggy since he’s dressed as a firefighter, but the fabric stretches over his thighs as he spreads his legs, and the suspenders that keep those pants up stir something feral within you. It takes every ounce of willpower not to go over and mount yourself in his lap right then and there.

Chan notices you both come in and hurries to sit up, making room on the couch for you. He seems to take notice of your costume and you watch as his eyes sweep over you from head to toe, unabashed and almost forgetting (or uncaring) that you can see him checking you out.

“Hey! You, uh, you look amazing.” He blurts, eyes still locked onto you. Jinah clears her voice from next to you and Chan seems to then remember that someone else is in the room. “Er, ah, you both do!” He adds, eyes flickering to your best friend who just snorts.

“Thanks, Chan. Our ride is here though, so I do have to steal her away now.”

“Ah, okay. Sure. I’ll see you later tonight, Y/n. Have fun and you both stay safe, okay?”

You nod, telling him to do the same. You catch sight of your brother as you and Jinah are on your way to the door. His Ghostface robe drags on the carpet as he comes down the hall.

Once you and Jinah slide into the car, and she gives the driver the address, she gives you a look.

“Don’t,” you say, stopping her before she can say what you already know she will.

“What?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’?”

“Don’t say it.”

“Don’t say what? That Chan got real-time tunnel vision checking you out in your costume and that he forgot I was even in the room.”

“Yes, that! Don’t say that!”

She shrugs, reaching into her bag and pulling out her compact to check her reflection.

“Okay. I won’t say it. I don’t really need to since you know.”

You did, of course, you did. You could feel the heat in his gaze when he looked at you, but you remind yourself that you can’t do anything more than look. Maybe if you’re lucky, someone at this party can distract you.

Truth be told, when you longed for someone at this party to distract you from Chan, you were only putting it into the universe and just keeping your fingers crossed. You didn’t think you’d actually find someone else to catch your interest. You didn’t anticipate that Jinah’s model friend that owns the large, expertly decorated house would take an interest in you, and yet he did the moment you met him.

“Minhyuk, this is my best friend, Y/n! Y/n, this is Lee Minhyuk. Y/n just moved back to Seoul after traveling for work.”

Minhyuk wastes no time in bowing to you before grabbing your hand and placing a kiss on the top of it.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/n. Any friend of Jinah is a friend of mine.” The handsome man smiles widely at you, making you swoon on the spot. “Especially a friend as stunning as you.”

One look at this buff, beautiful man with perfect hair, perfect teeth, and a perfect face and you’re not surprised in the slightest that he’s a model. You’re sure he can get any woman that he wants and that his charms work on anyone he flashes a brilliant smile to. You’re annoyed that he’s having the same effect on you the more he talks to you and stays by your side for the first hour of the party. You chalk it up to having been single for so long and on your repressed desire for Chan, but you let Minhyuk flirt with you and drape his arm over your shoulder as he asks you about your flight attendant days.

Jinah stays with you both for a while after introducing you, but when it seems obvious that Minhyuk is making heart eyes at you, she excuses the two of you momentarily, pulling you aside.

“Hey, are you okay?!” She says as best as she can in your ear. The music from the sound system in the next room is quieter in the dining room you’re standing in, but is still turned up to a booming volume.

“Yeah, I’m good!”

“You sure? He’s hitting on you pretty hard. He’s a good guy but say the word and we’re out of here.” You mull your next words and decisions over, ultimately deciding to stay and see where things go with Minhyuk. You had asked the universe for a distraction on your way and here it is so why pass it up?

“I’m sure. If I need you or want out, I’ll tell you.” Jinah gives you another firm look before relenting and going with you back to Minhyuk’s side.

An hour later Minhyuk offers to show you around his house. Jinah stares at you, trying to gauge your reaction. You’re sure this will end up with the two of you somewhere in this house, presumably naked, but you decide that’s exactly what you need.

Minhyuk keeps his arm draped over your shoulders as she gives you a tour of his house, avoiding all of the drunken party goers and horny couples making out as you go. Almost every room in his house has people packed into it. His den, his game room, his second living room, and all four of his guest rooms. The only room that has no one else in it is his bedroom which is where you ultimately end up.

“Your house is very fancy,” you compliment, looking around his bedroom. The bed is bigger than even some of the hotel beds you’ve slept in. The duvet is soft under your palms as you sit on the edge and lean back on your hands. Art hangs on the walls and he has two dressers that you can see. You can’t see into the bathroom across the room, but the tub you catch sight of has to be able to fit at least four people.

“Thank you, I’m glad you like it. How’s the bed?” Minhyuk smirks at you from across the room, leaning against a tall dresser. The scrubs of his doctor costume are standard, save for the fact that the top is sleeveless. He crosses his arms and you see how every muscle flexes and twitches under his tan skin

“Mmm, it’s pretty soft. Your duvet is nice.” You cross and uncross your legs, watching as the model follows your movements with his eyes. 

“Yeah? The sheets are even better.”

“You don’t say?”

“Yeah. They’re real silk. And temperature controlled so they’re the perfect coolness and won’t make you hot.” As he speaks he stalks towards you, tossing aside the surgical mask that has been hanging under his chin since you met him.

“Oh? They sound expensive.”

“They are. And they feel like a cloud. Wanna feel them?” Minhyuk is standing in front of you now, his knee resting against the edge of the bed between your legs, waiting for your next words.

You don’t leave him waiting for long, as you breathe out an “I’d love to,” and he immediately bends forward, hands grabbing your face to pull you into a heated kiss. Your hands reach out to grasp at his arms, nails lightly digging into the firm flesh.

Minhyuk grunts into your mouth, fully climbing onto the bed to hover over your body. One hand stays on your cheek while the other travels down your body, grabbing and squeezing as he settles on your hip. 

His tongue slips into your mouth when you separate your lips to take in a breath. Your bodies move together as you shuffle backward up the bed a little, giving him more room to drape his body over yours and kneel between your legs. He presses his pelvis forward, the movement causing him to brush against you, the clothed tip of his hardening length grazing your crotch.

The sensation makes him groan and pause for a moment, his tongue and body stilling. A jolt of confidence rushes over you, making you shift underneath him and flip him onto his side. You quickly push him all the way onto his back and crawl into his lap.

“Mmm maybe I like this view more than you under me,” he mumbles, admiring the new position. He only gets a moment to take it in before you’re leaning down to kiss him again, your fingers brushing through his dark hair. Minhyuk’s hands move down your back to grip your ass.

Your make out session lasts for a few minutes, your mind finally slipping away from everything else that has been tumbling around in your brain. At some point, Minhyuk pulls away with a gasp and quickly peels his top off, tossing it aside before leaning back and letting you ogle him.

Your mouth drops at the sight of him, all chiseled muscle and rippling abs. You gawk for only a moment before your brain decides to remind you of the way that Chan looks without a shirt. He’s also muscular but in a much softer way. Chan’s abs are lightly defined and his pecs are still visible. You also always find your way back to thinking of that day when he had just gotten out of the shower, of the small happy trail that runs down, down, down to where you can’t see. You wonder how soft that dusting of hair is.

Minhyuk momentarily pushes away your Chan imagery when he reaches up to grab your face to pull you back down to kiss him again. Your hands stretch out to steady yourself, finding purchase on his biceps. The hard muscles twitch under your fingers and you squeeze in return. Immediately, you’re reminded of how soft Chan’s biceps and arms are. 

A week ago the two of you had run into each other in the hallway of the apartment. You were leaving when he was rounding the corner, coming back from the gym. He had a tank top on and when he appeared in front of you, you both jumped, yelping in surprise. You had reached your hands out by instinct, with the intention of doing what you’re not sure, but when you noticed it was Chan at the last minute your hands unfurled from fists and gripped his arms to steady yourself. 

His arms were built, but still so soft and smooth under your hands. That feeling has stayed with you even now as you think about Chan and his arms while another man is kissing your neck.

All of a sudden, you wonder what it would feel like if Chan was the one that was under you and if he was the one whose lips were pressing kisses on your throat instead.

Minhyuk’s fingers walk their way to the front of your jumpsuit and he flicks at the zipper that keeps your outfit secure. Before he has a chance to unzip it, his bedroom door bursts open and a woman stands in the doorway, yelling his name angrily.

The intrusion makes you jump, jerking too far back and toppling backward onto the floor.

“Shit, Y/n! You okay?!” Minhyuk jumps up and offers you his hand, being nice enough to at least check on you.

“Minhyuk, what the fuck?!” The woman screeches again, stomping over to him and shoving his chest. “I’ve been walking around this stupid party looking for you for like half an hour! You invited me tonight just to run off and fuck someone else?!” 

“Hyoseong, I’m sorry, I-” Hyoseong cuts him off by shoving him backward, making him lose his balance and fall back onto the bed. He’s too close to the corner of the bed though, because he keeps going and falls back off the side, yelping the whole time.

Hyoseong smirks, satisfied as she watches him before turning her gaze to you still standing there awkwardly. The flame in her eyes diminishes and is replaced with concern. 

“He’s not worth it, I promise. All he knows how to do is fuck every girl he looks at and lead you on!” She screams that last part at him before turning and storming back out of the room. 

Embarrassment is written all over Minhyuk’s face as he scrambles up and gives you a sheepish smile. He opens his mouth to say something, but you speak first.

“Don’t even try it.” You stick your palm out at him, stopping him from responding.

He listens, not saying anything as you leave the room and beeline back downstairs in search of Jinah. You find her in the kitchen talking to a few other girls and when she sees you, she immediately rushes over to you, worry written all over her face. You reassure her that you’re okay and tell her about Hyoseong and she gasps.

“Fuck, I thought they broke up! Ugh, Y/n, I’m so sorry. I’ll go kick his ass right now!” She looks over your shoulder for him, but you stop her. This is clearly a story you’ll have to ask her about on another day. Right now, all you want to do is go home, shower, and flop into bed.

She doesn’t let you convince her to stay and have fun and is already calling a car for you both. You ride together and you tell her what was going through your head when you were hooking up with Minhyuk and she just nods, letting you pour out your garbled thoughts.

Of course, her response is to act on these feelings, but you quickly shut that down, reminding her of the list of reasons that you cannot act on said feelings. As she’s gotten accustomed to doing, she rolls her eyes and tells you that you’re thinking too much into this.

The conversation dies when you pull up at home, thanking her for the ride and hurrying out before she can keep bringing it up.

Chan is fucked. That’s all he thinks when he and Hansol get to Junhui’s party. Ever since you left, all that his brain plays on a loop is you in that red jumpsuit. It is long sleeved and the bottom of the pants are flared, but the fabric hugs you in every way imaginable. The only things he wanted to look at was the curve of your hips, the swell of your breasts, and the way it framed your ass as you left. 

He knows that the image of you in that costume is all he’ll think about for not only the rest of the night but quite possibly for the rest of his life. He did his very best not to make it obvious he was checking you out, but in his defense, he swears he also saw your eyes stay too long on his chest and his thighs. 

As the month has ticked by living with you, Chan has only fallen for you even more than he thought was possible. Everything you do and say makes his heart race. Every time he sees you, he wants to hold and kiss you, no matter what time of day it is. You look just as beautiful waking up as you do going to sleep. 

He’s whipped and he hasn’t even told you that he’s still in love with you.

He knows he only has eyes for you because he spends the first hour of the party talking with his friends and sipping on a drink, but he still keeps going back to you in his mind. He knows he is especially hopeless when a cute girl approaches him and asks him to dance. He forgets her name as soon as she says it (Yerim maybe?) and even though she looks incredibly sexy in her little black dress and cat ears, the only thing Chan can see is you when he closes his eyes.

Even when she drags him to the living room to dance and presses her body close to his, he wishes it was you that was rubbing your ass against his crotch. Chan wonders what you’re doing right now and if you’re dancing with someone else just like this. He beats himself up at the thought, chiding himself for not asking you to come to this party instead or even to stop by after the one you’re at now. Even though Jinah asked you to her friend’s party first, he still should’ve brought it up, but he was too nervous you’d turn him down. He hates the idea of you looking that stunning and having other people look at you or touch you. He wants you so bad, in any way you’ll have him, and he doesn’t care how pathetic that sounds.

The cat girl seems to take notice that Chan is distracted as his arms lay limp on her hips. She turns around, draping her arms around his neck and pressing her tits against his chest. Her wide brown eyes blink up at him and her black painted lips curl up in a smile. She’s really cute, Chan can admit - like really cute - but she’s also not you. Before he can think anymore, she’s on her tiptoes, placing a kiss on his lips. 

Any other time, he doesn’t think he’d turn down a cute girl that is so obviously into him and he certainly wouldn’t turn away from a kiss, but this time is different. This time, Chan only thinks of you and wishes this was you. That’s why he doesn’t make much effort to kiss her back. Not a single spark pops between him and the cat girl. She quickly gets tired of his lack of enthusiasm, soon pulling away and turning in a huff to leave him standing in the middle of the living room. 

Chan watches her go, his eyes looking around the room and it hits him how much he doesn’t actually want to be here. He’d much rather be back at home, sitting on the couch with you watching late night sitcoms like the two of you have fallen into the habit of doing. 

He’s only at the party for a couple of hours, before he finds Hansol in the kitchen, letting him know that he doesn’t feel very party-like anymore and decides to go home. Hansol is right in the middle of racing with their friend Seokmin, trying to shotgun a beer faster than him, but when he wins, he gives Chan his attention.

“Are you sure? You want me to go with you?”

“Nah, I’m good. Stay. I’m just gonna shower and probably chill.”

“Alright, dude. Can you just keep an eye out for Y/n when you get back?”

Hansol doesn’t have to ask twice. Even if he hadn’t asked once, Chan would’ve looked out for you anyway. It’s why after he’s showered and gotten a snack, he goes to the couch instead of his bed. He assumes you won’t be home until it’s late, but if he’s lucky he’ll catch a glimpse of you before you go to bed and will make sure you’re safe.

He’ll also get one more look at your costume which isn’t as important as making sure you’re safe, but it’s absolutely something he’s looking forward to.

When you get home, you’re surprised to see that the TV in the living room is on. When you round the corner you see Chan sitting on the couch, under a blanket with popcorn in hand and eyes wide in surprise at seeing you.

“Hey, Y/n! You’re home early.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t really feeling like being at a party anymore. Too people-y. I’m surprised you’re here though.”

Chan shrugs, “I guess I wasn’t feeling like being at a party either.”

You hum, glancing at the space on the couch he makes for you. “I’m gonna shower and put on my pajamas. Mind if I hang out here with you when I’m done? I’m not that tired yet.”

“Yeah! I mean, uh, yeah of course you can.” He clears his throat, eyes still flickering between you and the TV.

“Great. I’ll be quick and then we can watch a movie?” Chan nods and shamelessly watches you go when you hurry down the hall and into the bathroom. 

You remove your makeup and shower faster than you think you ever have, eager to spend the evening with Chan.

Once your most comfortable pajamas are on, you join him, plopping next to him on the couch. 

“So, what’re we watching?”

“Scream?”

“Oh, yes! Both of them?”

“Sure.” 

Chan starts the movie already in the VCR and passes you the bowl in his hands which you eagerly accept. As the movie goes on, you both start on your respective sides of the couch. It isn’t until you’re halfway through the first movie that you have half a mind to notice that your leg brushes against Chan’s each time you adjust. At first, you jump at the contact, and he seems to as well, both of you shifting away embarrassedly.

That only lasts for a small amount of time though, because by the end of the movie, you’re both close again and the bowl of popcorn you’ve been sharing is empty. After Chan gets up and puts in the second movie, he comes back to the couch and sits down, this time close enough that your thighs touch and neither of you moves.

You continue to stay close to one another as you watch the movie and eventually, you’re so close that you’re practically cuddling. You’re not, but you may as well. Seeing how at some point, you end up falling asleep with your head on Chan’s shoulder and his arm draped around your waist.

You only know this to be the case when you’re woken up sometime later, Hansol’s voice rousing you out of your sleep. When you open your eyes, the first thing you see is Ghostface staring down at you, causing you to scream, jolting into Chan’s lap and making the man jolt awake too. His eyes meet Ghostface standing in front of you both, also making him shriek and grasp onto you for protection.

Hansol lets out a chuckle, and lifts the mask, taking in the terror written on his roommates’ faces. 

“It’s just me.”

“Jesus, Sol! You could’ve taken the damn mask off before you scared the shit out of us.”

You toss a pillow at him, hitting him in the gut, but he doesn't flinch. 

“Nah this was more fun.” He dodges the second pillow that Chan tries to smack him with and says goodnight to you both as he sprints down the hall.

Once he’s gone, you both realize that you’re still partially in Chan’s lap and he still has an arm around you. You sit up quickly, sharing an awkward laugh with him as you get up, announcing that you’ll start to clean up. Chan helps and you tidy up the living room and cut the TV off, refolding the blanket you shared and saying goodnight before you go your separate ways to your rooms. 

Your words are awkward, but neither of you can get over how warm and right it felt being so close. You tell yourself to forget it as you get into bed, reminding yourself that you can’t do that again.

Meanwhile, Chan can’t help but wonder if you’re thinking about him too, just like he’s thinking about you and the way you smell and how much he wants to hold you like that again one day.

He’s not sure if that’ll be a reality for him, but he can only hope so.

November is halfway over when you think that maybe you can finally, fully and unabashedly admit that you like Lee Chan. After Halloween night when you fell asleep together, you’ve only been spending more time with him and getting to know more about him. The problem is, the more you get to know Chan, the more you’re unable to ignore the rapidly growing crush on him.

You want to date him and have sex with him and kiss him. You want to hold his hand when you're grocery shopping or if you’re both in the same room. You want to hug him when you’re sitting next to each other on the couch or on the floor. You want to sleep in the same bed with him, cuddle against his chest, and wake up next to him the following morning.

You admit this to Jinah one day over lunch and she isn’t the least bit surprised. She’s stopped being so enthusiastic about you admitting your feelings for and to Chan, but you already know that’s what she wants to tell you to do whenever you talk about him or she sees you looking at him if you’re all in the same room.

It gets worse when you and Chan spend a day together decorating the apartment for Christmas. He helps you get the tree - a small plastic, realistic looking one since none of you want to deal with the work of a real one - decorate it, and hang up other decorations around the apartment. It all feels so incredibly domestic, similar to all of the cheesy rom coms you’ve had to watch on long flights around this time of year. Of course Hansol is there helping too, but he doesn’t seem to get in between the two of you when you stand too close or reach for the same ornaments. 

Well, it’s more likely that he literally doesn’t even notice, but it’s still very cozy and special nonetheless. 

Either way, Chan only continues to prove himself as the sweetest, most caring man you’ve ever been around and it’s only serving to stoke the fire that is your feelings for him. It was getting harder and harder to separate those feelings until you simply can’t deny them anymore. 

You’re not alone in this want and desire. Every day that Chan has to see you and spend time with you, he only falls for you more. He thought his feelings were rough to grapple with when he was a kid, but this is different. Now that he’s spent so much time with you as adults, getting to know any and everything about you, it only cements his love for you into his heart.

This only makes things harder for him. He’s been trying to take Soonyoung’s advice and show more of the true him to you and he can’t tell if it’s working or not. You seem to enjoy being around him and he knows that at times he’s seen your eyes stray over his body. It’s not enough to make him brave enough to make any moves yet, but he thinks about it constantly. What if he’s reading the signals wrong? What if you’re just really nice and a good roommate and you don’t feel anything remotely romantic for him?

It’s that doubt and fear that has him keeping his mouth shut. Instead, he just constantly thinks about every part of you that he likes (which is everything, to be honest). He thinks about how pretty you are and how soft your skin is. He’s been lucky enough to accidentally knock into you or brush arms or thighs on occasion and every time he feels electricity throughout his body. He constantly thinks about how good you smell and how he can rank a list of all of his favorite outfits that you own. He thinks about your smile and your laugh and the way your expressions change when you experience different emotions.

Lee Chan is in love with you. Always has been and at this rate, probably always will be. He wants to be with you in every way possible. You’re always on his mind, but when he’s in bed, with only a single wall separating you both, he can’t help but think of other things that he likes about you.

Like how pretty your lips are when he sees you wrap them around a bottle or lick stray food from your fingers. Or how tempting your legs look when the heat in the apartment is a little too warm and you wear small sleep shorts. Or even the sound of your voice when you talk to him. He can imagine so easily how soft and breathy your voice could sound while you say his name if he was between your legs in either your bed or his.

Chan thinks about all of these things so much more when he wraps his hand around his aching cock and jerks off, wishing that it was your hand, or mouth, or pussy around him instead. He thinks about how much he’d love to watch you fall apart for him and only him. 

When he cums all over himself with a whisper of your name on his lips, he starts to feel a little guilty for thinking of you like this but reminds himself that it’s just fantasies and he’s not acting on anything.

Little does he know that you want him to act on all of those things and more. He’s on your mind most nights too and you can’t help but slip your fingers between your legs. You think about his laugh and his wonderful smile and how high pitched his moans probably are and how stunning you know he’d look under you while you ride him. When your fingers are buried inside of yourself knuckle deep, you want so badly for it to be him and his fingers or his cock. 

You have similar conflicting feelings after you fall apart, biting down on your lip to stop from crying his name. Guilt washes over you after the orgasm haze lifts and you scold yourself for thinking of him like this when you specifically tell yourself not to. That lasts for a bit until you remind yourself that it’s not like you can act on any of these fantasies so they’re better off as just that.

It's Thursday when snow starts to fall and cover the city of Seoul. You don’t mind too much. You can’t remember the last time you were in a place where you’d have the potential of a snowy Christmas, so you weren’t complaining too much.

Saturday is when the snow stops and sits on the ground like a fresh blanket. Your original plan is to lounge around the apartment and enjoy a day of nothing, the book you’ve been meaning to finish in hand when the phone rings. Your plans are rerouted when Hansol announces that you’re all going ice skating. Seungkwan and his partner want to go to the new outdoor skating rink that recently opened, but they want to invite all of you. You’re prepared to turn down the invitation because you’re cozy and you don’t even know how to skate, until Chan, who’s on the couch next to you playing his Game Boy, looks up and nods. He gives you a sidelong glance to see what your answer will be. The excited look on his face is enough for you to agree.

Half an hour later the three of you are in Hansol’s car and driving to the rink. Seungkwan and his partner are there when you arrive along with their other friend Seokmin who you recognize a little but from high school. Everyone eagerly lines up at the booth to get their rental skates and you lag behind. Chan notices and moves to stand next to you, asking if you’re okay.

“I’m fine I just, I don’t actually know how to skate.”

“Wait, really? Why didn’t you mention that earlier?”

You shrug, taking a step as the line moves. “I don’t know. Everyone seemed excited to come so I didn’t wanna ruin it.” That’s partially true. You also just wanted to spend time with him, but you keep that to yourself.

“Well don’t worry, I’ll help you.”

“Ah, you don’t have to-” 

“Nope. I wasn’t asking! I’m telling you that I’ll help.” He gives you a wide smile that makes you melt just as fast as the snow piled under your feet.

When it’s finally your turn for your skates, you ask for your size and Chan insists on paying for your rental with his, ignoring how many times you object. He leads you both to a bench on the side of the rink and helps you lace up your skates. Once they’re on and secure, you adjust your scarf and gloves and wait for him to finish putting his on.

Chan stands first and offers you his gloved hand which you take without much thought. Slowly, he leads you to the entrance of the rink, letting you slowly step out as he skates backward. As soon as your foot makes contact with the ice you almost feel your balance give out, but Chan keeps a strong grip on your hands, helping keep you upright.

“I won’t let you fall. Promise.” He smiles at you again, this time soft and warm and the gesture feels like a comforting hug. 

You and Chan do an entire lap around the rink, albeit slowly, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Hansol has already passed you both numerous times, as has Seungkwan, but Chan doesn’t pay them any mind. All of his attention is locked on you and only you.

You manage to do a few more laps, your legs feeling more confident each time. Chan keeps skating backwards with his hands on you, the two of you falling into conversation and laughing the more comfortable you get with him ferrying you around the ice.

Things are going well. Your time with him feels so incredibly right. He seems to be enjoying it too because at some point he shortens the gap between both of you and moves his hands from around yours to your forearms, your biceps, and eventually, his hands are around your waist and yours are draped over his shoulder. The closeness is not exactly normal for two roommates who  are not romantically involved, but neither of you moves away.

Your cheeks, nose, and lips are so cold that eventually, you’re ready to call for a break, but then you notice how close Chan is and how red his lips are. He looks cold too and you wonder what will happen if you lean forward and close the already lessening gap. 

Chan’s eyes flicker up from your feet to your eyes, and then your lips. You hold your breath in that moment and look between his lips and his eyes. Something between the two of you stirs and you swear you see him inching his face closer and closer. 

Before you can finally kiss Chan like you’ve been daydreaming about for the past 2 and a half months, you shift on your left foot which proves to be a horrible idea. You’re falling backward faster than you and Chan can register. You attempt to put your hands back to break your fall which helps because you don’t fall on your ass but you do land on your left wrist with more force than you thought. A sharp, shooting pain runs from your wrist to your elbow making you yelp in pain.

“Y/n!” Chan drops to his knees to check on you and Hansol is at your side in seconds. 

“I’m okay, I think I fucked up my wrist though.” They both help you up, each man on either side of you to get you off of the ice. They sit you on a bench and Chan takes off your skates, then his before sprinting to the bench you both started at that still has your boots.

The rest of your group joins you to check in and you notice a few other skaters looking in your direction. In between the pain in your wrist, you feel utter mortification at all of the attention and the way that you busted your ass in front of everyone. Especially given the fact that you swear that you were so close to kissing Chan.

When he comes back with your boots, Chan helps you stand up and announces that he and Hansol will take you to the hospital. You try to object, but they don't want to hear it.

So, you end your day sitting in the hospital getting a wrist brace put on. The doctor says it’s only a mild sprain and all you need to do is wear your brace and use your wrist as little as possible for at least two weeks and you should be just fine. 

Even though Chan is in the room when the words “mild sprain” leave the doctor’s mouth, he still treats you as if you have two broken legs and a concussion. He insists on helping you out of the hospital and car and into the apartment. When you sit on the couch he makes sure to prop the throw pillows up under your arm to keep your wrist elevated. 

“Chan, my arm won’t fall off.”

“I know, but the doctor recommended keeping it elevated, remember? Now are you hungry? I think we have some leftovers, or if you want me to go out and grab something I can.” He stares at you concerned, waiting for your next order.

Shaking your head you slide over on the couch and gesture to the cushion. “Chan, I promise I’m fine. All I need is for you to sit down and just relax. I ruined skating so try and enjoy the rest of your Saturday.”

“Hey, you didn’t ruin anything! It was an accident. I’m just happy you’re okay.” Chan’s hand lifts and hovers over your good hand sitting on the cushion between the two of you. It’s only for a second because he seems to rather quickly decide against it, letting his hand land in his lap.

He doesn’t think you notice, but you do and it stings, just a little. 

Despite the awkwardness that lingers now and again between you and Chan over the next week, he still insists on taking care of you. He ignores your protests for the first two days, so you end up just giving in. You let him do any simple lifting around the apartment, even going as far as to carry your food for you at mealtimes. He’s already been doing a lot of small favors and nice things for you, but he does it even more as your wrist heals. It’s both overwhelming and the most flattering thing anyone has ever done for you.

It’s not helping your emotional battle with your feelings for him in the slightest, but you’re ready to give up and accept it. You’re not sure if he feels the same or not. He was the first to initiate what you truly thought was about to be a kiss at the skating rink, but since that failed spectacularly, you feel like he’s also pulling away a little bit. To you, your relationship has only deepened since you moved in and you two were becoming closer and closer. Now though, even though he practically waits on you hand and foot, he still does it in the most platonic way possible, if that’s even possible. So, feelings you harbor for him aside, you’re stuck holding them to yourself in a vice grip.

Working with your wrist sprained is annoying, to say the least. Your role involves computer and phone usage which isn’t impossible, it just makes you a little slower at doing your day to day since everything has to be done with one hand.

When you hit the middle of your second week in the brace, you feel like your wrist will heal closer to the two weeks. That means that if you’re lucky, you only have three days left to suffer in the brace. You wonder if that means things between you and Chan will continue to change even further, but do your best to fight the spiral you’re about to go on. You’re just happy work is done for the day and you can relax.

“Sol!” When you walk into the apartment it’s the first thing you yell out, waiting for your brother to answer.

“Yeah?”

“Did I get a package today?!” Your very first set of business cards that your boss ordered for you a few weeks ago were supposed to arrive today. Hansol stayed home due to a stomach bug, so he was responsible for getting the mail. It wasn’t anything particularly fun, but you were still excited for your own business cards nonetheless.

“That depends; did you pick up the medicine I asked you to get?” He calls back. You roll your eyes as you kick your shoes off and gently remove your crossbody bag. 

“And what if I said I didn’t? What’re you gonna do? Hold my package for ransom in your room?”

“Maybe. Or I hid it somewhere in the apartment and now you have to play hide and seek for it.” He chuckles.

“Hansol Vernon Chwe, if you don’t give me my mail, I will literally take your Game Boy and shove it up my - oh.” Your threat to Hansol vanishes the second you turn the corner into the living room and see a man on your couch that you don’t know. A handsome man at that. 

A very handsome man.

“What was that?” Your brother teases you, seeing the way you blink back wordlessly at his friend.

“Nothing, shut up. Here’s your medicine, nerd.” You snap out of it and toss the paper bag at your brother on the couch. 

“Thanks. Your package is in your room on your desk.” 

“Thanks,” you nod, your eyes shifting back to the man on the couch who’s just been smiling politely at you since you entered, chuckling at your sibling spat.

“This is Joshua, by the way.” Hansol finally says, gesturing to the man next to him. “Josh, this is my sister I told you about.”

“Yeah, I remember her. Hey, Y/n,” Joshua waves at you, his smile lowering but you still notice the way the corners of his lips quirk.

“You remember me?” You ask as you try and wrack your brain for any Joshuas from your past. “Oh! Joshua Hong?!” The minute you remember him, you’re even more shocked at how good looking he is. The once lanky, awkward looking transfer student that your brother befriended in his first year of high school even though Joshua is older than him, is now so much different. He’s filled out more, the t-shirt he’s wearing hugging his torso in the most distracting way possible. His jaw is defined, his hair longer and a soft shade of reddish-brown. He looks like a completely different person in your eyes.

What the fuck is going on with all of your brother’s friends? Why were they all suddenly so goddamn hot?!

“That’s me. It’s been a while, huh?”

“I mean yeah, try almost a decade?” You sit on the couch on the other side of Hansol to catch up. “What have you been up to?”

“Oh, nothing much. I’m finishing my last year of school. I’m getting my bachelor of medicine right now.”

“You’re going to be a doctor?!” You’re surprised, to say the least. From your memory, you can’t remember Joshua being interested in the medical field, but at the same time, you didn’t really know Joshua well enough to recall too much about him.

He lets out a sheepish laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah. I’ll be doing pediatrics. I didn’t anticipate that I’d get into pediatric medicine initially, it’s just what I fell into and I love it.” God, he’s incredibly fine and he’s going to be a doctor? You’ve completely forgotten what you were planning on doing when you get home. 

The front door opens then, Chan arriving home from work too. When he comes into the living room he freezes, surprised at the third person on the couch.

“Shua hyung?” 

“Hey, Chan!” 

“What’re you doing here?”

“Ah, my apartment building is being exterminated and I need to be out for two days and Hansol  is gracious enough to let me crash on your couch till it’s done.”

Chan nods, not minding too much until his eyes flicker to you. He immediately notices the way you look at Joshua. He looks at you enough to know most of your facial expressions and the way your eyes inspect Joshua makes it clear you’re looking at him in the complete opposite of a platonic way.

Chan feels something unpleasant stirring in the pit of his stomach that he can’t shake.

It turns out Joshua is much more than just a doctor-to-be with a pretty face the more you talk with him. It should’ve been a little more awkward getting to know him, but it really wasn’t. You have a lot in common and he’s incredibly interesting and charming. He’s easier to get along with than you had anticipated. The two of you end up spending time together while he’s staying over and he also insists on helping you when he can even though, as you remind all of the men in the house, it’s just a minor wrist sprain.

You are lucky that he’s studying medicine because he inspects your wrist while he’s staying with you and reaffirms what the doctor at the hospital said. It’s not that serious and you should be free by the end of the week. Joshua’s hands are so much bigger than yours and they’re so very warm. The way he cradles your injured wrist is delicate and he handles you like the smallest flower. His sweet gestures make you feel warm all over anytime he says something kind to you or helps you.

He’s only on your couch for two days, but it’s long enough that you’re drawn to him. It helps that he is probably one of the most gorgeous men you’ve ever seen, but his personality makes him almost too good to be true. Or you’re just incredibly desperate for someone to give you attention since it seems like Chan has taken a step back from being your nurse or growing closer to you. It hurts a bit, but having Joshua around feels nice and makes you feel a little more cared for.

When it’s the day that Joshua is supposed to be leaving, you both get back from work at the same time. You chat with him while he puts the pillowcase and blanket he used in the laundry and goes into the bathroom to make sure he’s packed all of his toiletries. 

As you walk him to the door he thanks you again for letting him stay. Before he leaves though, he stops and takes a few seconds before turning back to you, surprising you.

“Hey, Y/n, I know this will seem completely out of nowhere, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but would you let me take you out sometime?”

You blink back at him, mouth opening into a surprised ‘o.’ 

“No pressure of course! And I won’t be upset if you say no. You’ve only really been getting to know me for two days, so I wouldn’t blame you at all if it’s a no.”

Even though Joshua seems like an absolute gentleman and has been nothing but nice to you, you still can’t help but pause. Your track record with dating has historically not been very good. Hell, even your last attempt at a hookup failed miserably. Plus, Joshua is another one of your brother’s friends. He’s only a couple of years younger than you, and sure, he doesn’t live with you, but you’d hate to be the reason that any of Hansol’s friendships get ruined.

“Joshua, you’re really sweet, but I’m Hansol’s older sister. I don’t know how he’d feel about that.”

“Okay, that’s a very fair hesitation, but if it helps, I asked Hansol this morning if I could ask you out and he said, and I quote, ‘Sure, whatever. Just make sure you don’t hurt her or I’ll tell Seungcheol.’” Joshua laughs, shrugging at you. You recognize that name as being Hansol’s oldest friend. You didn’t talk much when you were in school, but you remember him being mildly popular and feared by many. 

You return his laugh and can’t help but wonder if Hansol would feel the same if you and Chan dated.

Shaking your head, you brush the thought away. One date can’t hurt - it’s not like Joshua is asking you to be his girlfriend. You and Chan are still in an odd place right now anyway. You’re not really sure how to gauge him right now, and he isn’t making any moves to change that. Sure you don’t know Joshua very well but that’s what dates are for right? 

“Okay,” you finally say. “But after I get this stupid brace off. I will see my doctor tomorrow afternoon and I should get an all clear.”

The smile Joshua gives you is lethal and makes your palms sweaty. “Of course. After you take your brace off. I’d want you to be feeling completely better so you can enjoy yourself.” His words make your face heat up, suddenly feeling shy. “What do you say I pick you up tomorrow at six?”

“Sure, that works for me.”

“It’s a date then,” Joshua offers you one more look before he’s out the door and on his way.

Once he’s gone, you bring your hands to your cheeks, cursing yourself for getting so flustered around a guy you barely know, no matter how perfect he looks. To get your mind off of Joshua, you shower and get ready for the evening before deciding you’ll order a pizza and call Jinah to tell her about your date tomorrow.

“So how’s it going with Y/n?” Soonyoung asks Chan as they clean up and prepare to lock up the dance studio at the end of the day.

“It’s…going I guess.” 

“I assume this means it’s going absolutely nowhere?” Chan narrows his eyes at Soonyoung, ignoring the way his friend laughs at him.

“It was going somewhere. And then I made her break her wrist and now everything is weird.”

“Oh yeah I remember you said that, but you also said that she was about to reciprocate when you almost kissed, was she not?” 

“I mean, yeah I think so, but she’s also been flirting with Joshua since he got here and he’s definitely been flirting back. What if I’m wrong and she wasn’t actually going to kiss me back?”

Soonyoung lets out a sigh behind Chan, watching as his younger friend visibly agonizes over his thoughts and self-doubt. 

“Chan, listen, I’m going to be honest with you okay?”

“Why am I worried…”

“Because I’m about to tell you the truth!” Soonyoung waits for Chan to lock the studio door and turns to look at him. “You need to decide what you want to do. Either you’ll keep doing this weird will-they-won’t-they with her and not tell her how you feel and probably stress over her for the rest of your life or you tell her and see what happens. I know you’re worried about what she’ll say or how she’ll react, but is that better or worse than letting this eat you up forever?”

Chan scoffs, both options are terrible and he hates them equally, but at the same time, he really has to decide. Either option makes him uncomfortable and unhappy, but Soonyoung has a point, he’s just not sure which is the lesser of the two evils.

“I don’t know…”

“Well, I think you should think about it again and figure it out. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with flirting unless she actually becomes his girlfriend or something, right?”

Chan mumbles something that even he finds unintelligible, but Soonyoung doesn’t press him to repeat himself. They walk the short distance to the parking lot on the side of the studio and bid each other goodbye, Soonyoung wishing him luck again.

Chan spends the entire drive home in silence, weighing the pros and cons of telling you how he feels versus not telling you. He’s had this internal battle with himself since you moved in and it’s always the same in each category. 

You may hate him. He’ll make living with you awkward. He’ll fuck up his friendship with Hansol.

All the same negative scenarios play on repeat. The only pro (and the biggest, to be clear), would be that you feel the same for him or you’ll at least want to give him a chance. For Chan, it comes down to how much of a risk he wants to take here.

He’s not much of a risk taker usually, but he also can’t help but tell himself that you’re more than worth the risk. If he can get over his fear of the cons that is.

Chan is still deep in thought when he gets home. When he walks into the apartment, he can hear you talking in your room. The dock for the cordless phone sits empty on the side table next to the couch which tells him you’re using it. 

He doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, truly he doesn’t, but as he’s walking down the hall to his room, he overhears you mention Joshua’s name and the word ‘date.’ Chan freezes in his tracks, his heart beating rapidly at the implication. He knows he should go into his room and wait until you’re done to ask what the plan for dinner is. 

Instead, he tiptoes to your room, the door ajar enough for him to listen without being seen.

“I’m not sure where he’s taking me. He didn’t say and I didn’t ask. I want to be surprised.” You chuckle and there’s a beat of silence as the person, who Chan assumes is Jinah, speaks. “I’m telling you, he looks so different now. Like, fuck I can’t even describe how good looking he is! And hello, he’s going to be a doctor!” More silence. “I mean, let’s not get crazy. We’re not eloping or anything, it’s just one date.” You stop talking before breaking out into a fit of laughter.

Chan takes this as his sign to slink away, trudging to his bedroom to wallow. He tries to remind himself that you don’t even know how he feels, he’s never even told you about his feelings, so what right does he have to be upset about this?

Absolutely none, logically speaking. That doesn’t make the twinge of pain in his chest feel any more bearable.

It’s ten minutes to six when you’re putting the finishing touches on your hair and fastening your jewelry. You called Joshua earlier in the day to let him know that your doctor gave you the okay to take off your brace and that your wrist is feeling much better. You also asked if you should wear anything special for tonight. He advised that you didn’t need anything fancy, just whatever makes you feel good and some comfortable shoes. To be safe, you were going with thermal leggings and a nice sweater to stay warm and comfy.

With your bag and boots in hand, you leave your room and head down the hallway, intending to wait in the living room. The apartment is quiet with Hansol out for the night and Chan presumably in his room. You haven’t seen him much since he got home from work last night. He took his pizza into his room to eat it and you only saw him briefly this morning when he was coming back from the gym. You want to ask him if he’s okay, but you can’t seem to get a moment with him to do so. 

As you reach the end of the hallway, Chan rounds the corner suddenly and you both let out a yelp, running into each other.

“Shit, sorry!” Chan steadies you when your shoes and bag fall out of your hand along with the book that had been in his. He quickly bends down to pick up your things and gingerly hands them over to you.

“Thanks,” you smile at him, forcing your eyes up to his face and not down to the black tank top that hugs his torso.

“Of course,” Chan smiles back, neither of you moving. He’s blocking the entryway into the living room, you tell yourself, so he has to move first.

He doesn’t and instead looks above your head, chuckling nervously. 

“Huh?” You look up and catch sight of the mistletoe hanging above your heads. Who the fuck even put that there?

The two of you look from the mistletoe to each other, and then back up again. 

“You don’t have to,” Chan starts, his neck turning a deep shade of red.

“I - I mean you neither, if you don’t want to. But if you do, since you know it’s tradition or whatever, we can. Only if you want!” You’re stammering at this point, hand gripping the strap of your bag so hard your knuckles hurt. 

Your mind goes back to the ice skating rink and the moment the two of you shared. Chan’s reaction now might just reaffirm your thoughts from that day, but you try not to get too emotionally attached as you wait for his next words.

He doesn’t say anything, and instead, he answers with his movements. He looks into your eyes, so intensely you feel yourself squirm under his gaze. He starts to lean forward then, his face coming closer and closer to yours. 

There’s your answer.

Nothing comes from the moment though, when the doorbell rings, making both you and Chan spring apart with wide eyes. Clearing your throat, you apologize to Chan as you shuffle past him and into the living room. 

“One minute!” You call out to the door, assuming it’s Joshua. You fish your compact out of your bag to give yourself one more once over before you rush to the door and sure enough, you see Joshua through the peephole.

“Hi. You look beautiful,” are the first words out of his mouth when he sees you, eyes sweeping over your frame appreciatively.

“Thank you. You look very handsome. And are those for me?” You gesture to the large bouquet in his hands and accept it when he holds it out to you.

“Thank you. And yes they are. I couldn’t just show up empty handed.” You thank him again and step back into the apartment to find somewhere to put your flowers. Chan is gone when you enter the living room again and you don’t see him as you find a vase in the kitchen and fill it with water, placing the bouquet in them before joining Joshua again and leaving with him.

Your date with Joshua is as normal as a date can get, but you don’t mind one bit. As he drives you to your destination, you fall into easy conversation as you ask him about his job. Right now, he’s working at his friend’s office until he’s done with school. Since he’s still getting his degree, he can’t legally do much medical wise, but he does volunteer at the hospital when he can to visit the kids and keep them company between surgeries and procedures. 

He tells you stories from the hospital and you can tell just in the way he talks about the patients he’s spent time with that it’s something he really enjoys and is looking forward to doing full time. It’s admirable to see someone so in love with what they do and recall it in such a positive way. You know that when you recount stories from your time in the air and in different countries, it’s always with bittersweet words. There was so much you loved about being a flight attendant and so much you disliked, but Joshua talks about medicine with nothing but love. 

Similar to how Chan speaks about dancing. 

You push that thought away as soon as it conjures in your brain, refocusing back on your date.

Joshua takes you to a fancy looking Japanese restaurant and does everything right that you would expect. He makes sure to open your car door for you and the door of the restaurant. He pulls out your chair and tells you to order whatever you want, making it clear that he’ll be paying and brushing you off when you try to convince him to split the bill. 

“Okay, Doctor Hong, you win. You’re more stubborn than me,” you joke after you both order.

He laughs, shrugging and making eye contact with you. “I asked you out, so I’ll pay. Simple as that. Maybe next time you can arrange the next date and you can pay.” 

The idea of another date with Joshua hadn’t even crossed your mind. You’re comfortable with him and are enjoying talking with him and getting to know him more, but you feel like there’s something missing that you can’t quite put your finger on. 

That feeling persists during dinner, even through the shared laughter and the jokes and it sticks when you’re back in the car after dessert. It lingers as you chat on the way to the second, secret destination he has on the itinerary.

When Joshua eventually parks on the curb of a neighborhood you don’t recognize, you see a bunch of other cars parked and can see bright lights in the distance.

“Where exactly are we?” You try to read street signs around but don’t recognize them. Joshua offers his hand as he opens your door and you hesitantly take it, letting him escort you out. He doesn’t let your hand go as you walk down the sidewalk and get closer to all of the lights.

“I know you’re really into Christmas and decorations so I wanted to take you here,” As you walk closer to the lights, you finally start to notice that they’re Christmas decorations. It’s a whole street of houses adorned with bright lights and flashy decorations. “There aren’t too many people who go all out with the decorations here, but I happened upon this street when I got lost once and they do this every year. It reminds me of the way people back home in L.A. decorate their houses for the holidays.”

You nod, eyes taking in a house with sparking blue and white lights wrapped around every inch of their house. “Yeah, whenever we had layovers or rest periods in the U.S. for the holidays it was nice to see all the decorations out there. It’s why I made Hansol and Chan decorate the apartment. It makes the holidays feel more fun for me.” You laugh, sticking the hand not in Joshua’s in your coat pocket. “I don’t know, maybe that’s silly.”

“It’s not,” he insists, squeezing your hand. “I think it’s very cute and sweet.” Looking over at him out of the corner of your eye, he smiles warmly at you. Joshua is so good at making you flustered it’s almost illegal.

You keep your hand in his as you walk down the sidewalk, pointing out different decorations and your favorite houses. There are other people around you taking in the decorations, all other couples from what you can see. There’s one house that you get to towards the end of the street that’s the most dramatic looking of all. Twinkling, multicolored lights cover the house and an army of snowmen litter the yard, all draped in winter clothes with lights on them as accessories. Various blow-up decorations dot the yard, one of them even playing instrumental versions of classic Christmas carols. Paired with the December snow on the ground, the yard resembles a true winter wonderland and for a moment, you just focus on that and not the fact that your brain keeps wanting you to imagine taking all of this in with Chan.

You’re so focused on the wonder in front of you that you don’t notice the way Joshua admires your profile, smiling at the way your eyes sparkle as you admire the lights and decorations. Joshua takes the moment, turning to you and placing his fingers under your chin to turn your head towards him. The gesture catches you off guard, as does the kiss he leans down to place on your lips.

Joshua’s lips are plush against yours and so incredibly soft. He almost doesn’t feel real. His lips move against yours and you reciprocate, but that earlier, nagging feeling you’ve had since the restaurant comes back. The insistence that something here is missing and it’s even louder now that Joshua is kissing you. It’s especially hard to enjoy kissing him when your mind only wants to focus on your second almost-kiss with Chan earlier. You yearn so badly to feel his lips on yours and daydream about if they feel as soft as they look. You also can’t help but wonder if kissing Chan would make you feel things like fireworks. That consideration alone makes you notice the severe lack of them now. Guilt occupies your mind along with your thoughts of Chan and you notice just how little you feel from kissing Joshua.

As if he feels it too, he pulls away slowly, eyes immediately scanning your face. 

“Are you okay, Y/n?”

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine. Why?” 

“It’s just that, well I mean, you’ve seemed like your mind is only half here all night. I could feel it just now. Did I do something? I should’ve asked you before kissing you, I’m sorry.”

“No! No, Joshua it’s fine! You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise! You’re a great kisser anyway,” you mumble the last part, truly meaning it. Joshua chuckles and thanks you, but his expression gets serious again.

“I appreciate that and you are too, but I still feel like something is wrong.” He stares at you as if trying to read your mind and it makes you feel shy. 

“It’s just…fuck, listen, Joshua, I have had a lot of fun tonight, okay? You’re easy to talk to and laugh with and I like hanging out with you, but I think maybe…there’s a spark between us that’s missing? I’m really sorry.” You gnaw on your bottom lip as you get your words out, worrying about how he’ll react.

Thankfully, he doesn’t make any indication that he’s upset at you. Instead, Joshua just nods and if anything, looks a little disappointed. 

“Thank you for being honest with me. I’ve had a really fun time too. Even though I do genuinely like you, I’m not going to try and make you return my feelings. If you’re okay with it, I’d like to at least stay friends? I promise I can get over my crush.”

“Are you sure? I feel bad that I had you take me out like this and it was for nothing.”

“Hey, it wasn’t for nothing! I’m a little disappointed we can’t be more, but I still got to know you more. I mean it when I say let’s stay friends. It’s comfortable and nice hanging out with you. I promise I won’t make this weird. If you’re okay with it. Otherwise, when I take you home, I’ll drop you off and fuck off forever.”

You huff out a laugh, mostly in relief at how normal he’s taking your lack of interest. You study him for a moment, sincerity is easy to read in his expression.

Your shoulders relax as you nod, telling Joshua that you’ll gladly still be friends. This seems to put him at ease as well, letting out a sigh of relief. In your friendship travels, finding a dependable guy friend has been near impossible, so the idea of finally finding one means you can't just let the friendship slip away. You did genuinely enjoy spending time with him too.

You and Joshua finish the walk and any awkwardness you felt when the night started leaves now that the air is a bit clearer. Joshua doesn’t hold your hand, but he stays close and you appreciate that he genuinely meant he didn’t want you to feel weird around him.

After going around the block and taking a few selfies together (at Joshua’s request), you walk back to his car and he still holds the door open for you.

“What? Just because we’re friends this is still a date right?” He shoots you a smirk and you roll your eyes but laugh, nodding at his words. “Exactly. Now let’s get you home.”

Once back in the car, Joshua turns up the heat, both of you thawing as he starts the drive back to your apartment building.

At one point in your chatter as he takes you home, you compliment his gentlemanly behavior all night, telling him it’s honestly some of the most you’ve been wooed out of most other guys you’ve been with. Joshua frowns, citing how fucked up that is and how much guys fucking suck. You can’t help but laugh, noting that his level-headedness just adds to the fact that he’s the perfect guy for most women.

You voice this, adding: “If you’re still looking for someone special, my best friend just might fall in love with you if she meets you.” Joshua laughs, shooting you a brief look that you catch. “Yeah okay. I’ll tell her about you and let you know what she says.” You giggle.

“Sorry!” He winces, regretting his obvious expression. “Was that weird? Did I make it weird?”

“No, no! I don’t mind! I do think you’re a great guy and I love her and want her to be with a great guy. I don’t have a problem with you two going out. I’m just a little relieved to know you wanna talk to someone else so quickly. Makes me feel less bad about everything.”

“Hey, for real, don’t feel bad! I told you I’m going to be okay.”

“Ugh I know, I just feel bad because you paid for that fancy sushi and walked out in the cold and I’m curbing you.”

“Y/n, I’m not going to go home and write in my journal that you broke my heart. It was just a date, okay?” 

Sighing, you finally accept his answer, deciding to let it drop, but still let him know you’re going to talk to Jinah about him. 

“If you guys do go out and fall in love, try not to treat me like a third wheel, yeah?”

Chuckling, Joshua rolls his eyes at you as the car rolls to a stop at a red light. “She doesn’t even know my name yet, Y/n.”

“Yeah well, what I said still stands.”

“Whatever you say.” 

“Yes, thank you.” 

“Mmhmm.” Joshua shakes his head at you and your triumphant sounding rebuttal. “Just make sure you don’t forget about your friends whenever you find someone.” 

Frowning, you shake your head. “Oh, absolutely not. I’ve never even entertained abandoning my friends for a relationship. I’ll divide my time evenly between you guys and Ch-” Your lips clamp together like your mouth has been sewn shut, halting your words immediately.

Unfortunately, Joshua catches it, his eyebrows raising so high they almost disappear into his hairline. “Us and who?”

“No one.”

“That's obviously a lie. You were totally about to say someone’s name.”

“Huh? What makes you think that?”

You hit another red light and Joshua fixes you with a blank expression. “Really? You’re not gonna tell me?”

“Hey, this is still a date, remember?! What kind of date would I be if I talked about another guy?”

Joshua narrows his eyes once more before focusing back on the road as he accelerates and drops it, a suspicious look still on his face. You steer the conversation back to Joshua, getting him to tell you about his family back home a little more. He surely knows you’re deflecting but he doesn’t press you further. 

The conversation leads you right to a parking spot in your complex near the building entrance. Joshua, ever the gentleman, opens your door for you and walks you inside.

When reaching the third floor, Joshua walks you to the door. He pulls you into a hug, saying again that he had a good time hanging out with you regardless of the outcome. He says that he’ll look forward to your call about Jinah and about hanging out again soon. 

Things with Joshua may not have gone as intended, but you’re grateful that he’s understanding and not mad at the fact that you ended up not being interested.

“I will, promise. Get home safe!”

“I will. Have a good night.” He waves at you as he starts to go, but turns quickly to look at you with a glint in his eyes. “And good luck with Chan.” He caps his sentence off with a wink and the moment leaves you flabbergasted. Did he just say Chan?!

“I - what about Chan?!” You can only hope you don’t look as panicked as you feel. Joshua doesn’t address your question, or what he said as he gets to the elevator, offering you a final wave and laughing as the door closes.

How the hell did he know that’s who you were talking about? You’ve never done anything to make someone think you like Chan, but clearly the response lets you know that maybe you’re not as good at hiding your feelings as you thought you were. Has Chan noticed anything from you that would clue him in on your feelings for him being more than platonic? If so, you can only hope Hansol has been too… Hansol to notice it himself.

Chan’s lost count of how many times he’s paced the living room. He keeps trying to sit or do something else other than obsess over you, but nothing seems to be working. All he can think about is you out on a date, having fun, and developing feelings for someone other than him. He even called out of work tonight, telling Soonyoung he wasn’t feeling well. It wasn’t a complete lie. 

Seeing the way Joshua just swept in after so long and snatched you up, just-like-that, legitimately made his head and stomach hurt. Chan knows for sure he is absolutely in love with you and the other almost-kiss he nearly shared with you proves it. He still didn’t recall where the mistletoe came from, but because of it, even if it wasn’t the proper result, he’s not exactly complaining. Well, not about the fact that you very clearly almost kissed him back.

He just feels like an idiot because he let you leave and is watching you slip away from him again and this time it’s to one of his friends. A friend that has more guts than him to step up and ask you out and tell you that he’s into you.

Chan hasn’t been brave enough to approach you and finally, finally try asking you out. The time when he was fourteen didn’t count because he was still a kid and you never saw him as anything other than your little brother’s annoying best friend that followed you around. Of course, you wouldn't have ever gone out with him. 

But it’s different now. You’re both adults and you’re closer than that already. You seem to actually enjoy spending time with Chan and being around him for the first time in the entire time that he has known you and maybe, just maybe, he’d have a real chance with you. 

His own cowardice stopped him from speaking up and allowed his older, much more confident hyung to do what he’s been too afraid to. It fucking sucked.

After you left, the only thing he’s done is stay up and stare at the TV, jealousy chipping away at him. Jealous that Joshua got to you before he could do it. Jealousy eats him up so much that he can’t feel relaxed no matter what he does. So, the only thing he thinks to do is sit up and wait for you.

As you enter the apartment, you expect the room to be dark, but you’re surprised to instead see Chan pacing around the living room with the TV playing a commercial.

When he turns upon hearing the door, you both freeze, his expression reading a deer in headlights. 

“Y/n.”

“Chan?”

“Y/n, you’re here.”

“Yeah, I’m here. Are you okay?”

His eyes are wide as he watches you slip your shoes off. 

“Y/n,” he rushes over to you, grabbing your hands when you step into the room. The gesture is the most contact you’ve had in a week and it lights up all of your senses. He guides you into the room, but the two of you stay standing. “I have some stuff I want to say, okay? It might sound weird and you might hate me and I might fuck up everything, but I’m going to explode if I keep this to myself anymore.”

“Okay…” Your hesitance is obvious, but you don’t walk away to take your hands out of his hold, so he takes this as a sign to continue.

“I, fuck I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to say it, but Y/n, the truth is that I’m still in love with you. It’s different from when I was a dumb kid. That was me being captivated by my best friend’s big sister who was so much cooler and more mature than me and was the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. When you left for college and your career, it hurt, but I told myself to get over it. That it was just my first crush and first crushes eventually go away.

And I thought that was true until you moved back and I realized, ‘oh shit, I’m still into her,’ only now it’s worse because I got to know you, like really know you, and realized that you’re still that intelligent, mature, amazing girl, but now you’re a woman and you’re still the woman of my dreams. I’ve been trying so hard to show you that I still care for you without actually saying it because I was worried that you’d turn me down and I didn’t know if I could handle that, but seeing you go out with Joshua and potentially slip away from me for good again has been killing me all night and I can’t hold back anymore. 

If you don’t like me back that is completely okay! I know Joshua hyung is handsome and smart and he’s going to be a doctor so like whatever, yeah I get it. I won’t make living with you weird at all! I’ll even steer clear of certain areas when you’re around if that makes you feel better. Just, you know, whatever you want. But okay, I’m done. Too many words.”

Chan wants the floor to open up right at this moment and swallow him given the way you’re looking at him. Wide-eyed and mouth in a firm line as you absorb his words.

“Dammit, Chan!”

“What?! Sorry! Fuck, I’m sorry I suck I-”

“Huh? No! I didn’t mean it like that! I said that because, well, I think that you succeeded in showing me how much you care for me because I’ve fallen for you over the past three months.” Chan’s eyes widen almost comically, but he doesn’t say anything. “ I tried to fight it given one, you’re my brother’s best friend, two we live together, and three, you’re younger than me and four, I just didn’t want to make things weird with all of us living together, but knowing you like me just makes me want to stop being so cautious.”

“Really?”

“Really. Spending time with you and getting to know you has only made me like you more. Being around you, spending time with you, talking with you, everything just feels so right when we’re together. It’s scary because I have never felt like this, but I want it. I want you, Chan. In every sense of the word.”

The shell shocked man across from you has to let your words sit in his brain for a bit before he fully registers what you’ve said. You like him too. You’ve fallen for him. Being with him feels right. You want him. 

If this is a cruel dream, Chan would really appreciate it if he could wake up right now. He closes his eyes tightly, counting to three before opening again. Sure enough, you’re still standing in front of him, looking at him with expectant eyes, anticipating his next words.

“Sorry, I’m just letting this all sink in. I don’t think I thought you’d actually say you feel the same.”

You shrug, shooting him a small smile. “Me neither honestly. I thought for sure you had gotten over your crush on me and moved on to actual women who returned your feelings.”

“Me too, at first I mean. But like I said, just seeing you again had all of those feelings rushing back to me.” 

“Well I’m extremely lucky then it seems.”

“So am I.” You both stand there, grinning at each other, unsure what to do next. You think about maybe kissing Chan, finally, but you wonder if that’s too fast and too presumptuous of you.

As if he can read your mind, Chan clears his throat, making eye contact for a few seconds before looking away and taking a breath.

“Y/n, can I kiss you?” He blurts out, but you still hear him.

“Please do!” You answer immediately, encouraged by the knowledge that he wants the same as you.

Chan doesn’t need to be told twice, immediately rushing over to you before you have too much time to think. Your back hits the wall in an effort to keep your weak knees from giving out. When Chan stops, right in front of you, you’re almost chest to chest. He’s so close that you feel the warmth that radiates from him.

His arm rests above your head, keeping you trapped, but leaving his other arm down, allowing you a way out if you wanted. Neither of you speak for a moment, both blinking at the other. You each need to decide what will happen next. 

You both make that decision at the exact same time. Chan’s eyes stay locked on yours as he lowers his face. At the same time, your eyes flutter closed as you crane your neck up, allowing your lips to meet somewhere in the middle.

Your lips are still a little cold, Chan notes as your arms reach out in the tiny space between the two of you, and grasp the front of his t-shirt to pull him close, his body pressing you completely against the wall. He squeezes his eyes closed hard enough to hurt a few times in an effort to wake himself up from the dream that he feels like he’s having. He’s had more dreams than he can count about kissing you for as long as he can remember, so surely this is another one of those? 

That thought is only sent away when your arms slip up his body and around his neck, fingers weaving into the sensitive hairs on the back of his neck and tugging. The action is like lightning through his body and helps keep him in the very real moment.

Kissing Chan feels the way that you think they describe in movies. They always describe it as feeling like the world around you fades away in a haze and your head feels fuzzy. All of the sounds you hear are like white noise or turn into muffled background noise. It’s cliché and something you don’t think you’ve ever felt until this moment. Kissing Chan feels right and you don’t think you ever want to kiss anyone else for a long time, if ever again.

His strong arms wrap around your waist as you melt into him, your lips moving together in perfect sync. Your hands move down to his biceps to steady yourself, fingers wrapping around as much of him as you can, which isn’t much but you try.

You stay like that longer than you think you can count. Both of you clinging to one another, making out against the wall like lovestruck, horny teenagers, even if that’s exactly what you feel like. Your heart hammers against your chest and your thighs squeeze together as the kiss ignites not only something in your chest, but in your panties too. 

The kiss turns from soft and sentimental to heated quicker than either of you are brave enough to admit, but you’re not complaining. You’ve wanted each other for months (years for Chan) and are finally getting what you’ve dreamt of. Chan’s thick, muscled thigh wedges its way between yours. Your leggings may have been thick enough to avoid the cold, but they aren’t thick enough to keep you away from feeling him brush against your tender folds.

What sounds like a whimper slips out of you and gets swept away by Chan’s tongue and into his mouth. He swallows down sound after sound as he makes sure to nudge your pussy again and again and soon enough, you’re grinding down on him, sloppily riding his thigh as his lips stay connected to yours.

When you finally pull away, the first sound out of your mouth is a deep moan. Chan flexes his thigh in a way that tenses the muscles and he hits your clothed clit in the most delicious way.

“Fuck,” Chan pants as he holds your hips. His knee rests between your legs and against the wall to stay steady. You grind over Chan’s sweatpants again and with each sweet sound that slips out of your mouth, he feels himself getting painfully harder.

“Ch-Chan,” you manage out.

“Hmm?”

“I need more.”

“More? More what, baby girl?” 

The pet name rolls off his tongue so easily, too easily, and your pussy throbs even harder. Riding his thigh feels fucking amazing and you know you can cum just like this, but you don’t want to just yet. You’d much rather cum around his cock. The playful part of you also wants him to be just as needy as you.

“More of you. Please, baby,” You lean up to place kisses on his neck. When you get to his jawline, you flatten your tongue right on the side of his chin, dragging it up his jaw, and landing on his ear lobe. Chan makes the prettiest, breathy whines as you tease him and it only makes you clench even more. When you stop and your teeth nibble on the shell of his ear, capping it off with a whisper of, “Please Channie,” Chan feels like he could explode, right then and there.

“Anything. Fucking anything for you” Chan mumbles his words before diving down to lavish your neck in kisses of his own, the tip of his tongue darting out occasionally to lap at your skin. He leaves sloppy kisses on your skin as he descends down to your chest, stopping briefly where your nipples sit behind layers of clothes. 

He drops to his knees as he goes and doesn’t stop until he reaches your waist. 

“Chan?” You’re surprised that this is how he wants you first. You expected him to finger you before anything, but he clearly wants to start elsewhere.

His hands move to grasp at your waistband, stopping before he actually undresses you. His eyes meet yours, fingertips meeting your bare skin underneath your sweater. 

“Can I? I need to get my mouth on you so badly.”

“Fuck, yes. You better,” you demand in response, not even flinching at his request. The two of you easily slip your leggings and your panties down and off of you in one go. 

Chan lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, pushing your thighs apart. His eyes widen at the sight of you bare and wet in front of him. His mouth waters at the glistening arousal he sees coating your lower lips and he almost gets lightheaded at the heady scent of you. Chan could die right here before even tasting you and even that would be okay with him.

“Chan, please I need you!” You beg, feeling self conscious under his stare. He doesn’t make you wait any longer and instantly dives between your folds, his tongue lapping at you harshly.

Your knees nearly buckle at the suction, a loud cry ringing out. He doesn’t hesitate at all, his tongue immediately plunging into your wet hole. Your head hits the wall with a thunk as Chan begins eating you out as if his life depended on it. He fucks you with his tongue with obvious vigor, his nose bumping into your clit with each turn of his head.

His hands cup your ass, pulling you closer to his face so he can reach deeper in you, damn near making out with your cunt. Chan grunts and groans into you as he slurps, the wet sounds echoing through the room.

“Fuck, Chan. Fuck you’re t-too fucking good,” Your fingers are in his hair again, knotting into his strands to hold his face against you. The action makes him dizzy, his cock painfully hard and begging to be released from the confines of his sweatpants.

When you cum, which isn’t very long from when he started devouring you, you think you almost pass out. Your vision whites out and your body feels like gelatin, almost falling forward. Chan keeps his grip on your ass, not stopping until you start to yank him away from your pussy.

“I am going to pass out if you keep eating me out like that!”

“Fucking hell, Y/n, you have no fucking idea how long I’ve wanted to taste you,” he’s breathless when he speaks, licking his lips in the most obscene manner. 

“Did I live up to your expectations?” You tease, getting wet all over again as you observe the way his face glistens with your juices and his blown out pupils.

“You have no idea. But we’re not done yet, beautiful.”

Another simple pet name has you shivering and Chan notices, and he loves the way you react to him. He stands upright again and grabs your hand, lacing your fingers together as he leads you to his bedroom. When he gets you in the room he brings you to his bed, pushing you and watching you bounce gently on his quilt. You start to undress what you had left on, keeping your eyes trained on him as you pull your sweater over your head and unhook your bra, tossing it somewhere in the room.

This is just like so many wet dreams he’s had, but this time it’s real life and almost too good to be true.

“You gonna just stand there and ogle me or are you going to get naked and come over here and kiss me?” You tease him, widening your legs to make room for him.

Chan’s eyes are glued to your pussy, still wet and shining for him, and he all but tears his clothes from his body and scrambles onto the bed without another thought.

“Sorry,” he says between kisses. “I was just admiring the goddess waiting for me on my bed,” You’re ready to tease him again, but he cuts you off when he lowers his head and his mouth suctions around one of your nipples, sucking hard enough to make your back bow off of the bed. 

Eager lips lavish over the sensitive bud as his hand finds its way between your legs. He circles your entrance with a finger and repeats the motion a few more times before kissing his way over to your other nipple to give it the same amount of attention.

“So pretty,” he mumbles against your skin. Your fingers tangle in his dark hair as he covers your chest in bites, licks, and kisses, his finger still teasing you.

As if sensing you about to complain, he finally lets your nipple go, kissing his way down your body until he’s face to face with your pussy again.

“Chan…” you sigh, feeling his tongue dart out to lick a stripe from your entrance to your clit. He takes the time to spend extra attention on your nub, stiffening his tongue and flicking at it at what feels like an inhumane speed.

Chan relishes the gorgeous sound of your cries for him, noises of pleasure mixed in with huffs of his name and whispers of curse words. He loves that these sounds are all for him and because of him. He already knew he’d get addicted to you if he ever was able to get you into his bed and this settles that. He needs to hear you like this for him until he passes away. Even then, he wants to be buried with a recording of your moans and whines.

He shifts on his stomach to get closer to your core and plunges his tongue into you, groaning at the taste of you on his tongue again. The angle allows him room to grind against his quilt, pretending that it’s you he’s rutting against. His eyes slip closed as your thighs do the same around his head and he loses himself as he eats you out with a sense of excitement that he doesn’t think he’s ever felt about anything else.

Chan moves as if he didn’t do the same thing not even ten minutes ago and he only serves in pushing you so much closer to the edge faster than the first time. You call this out to him, tugging at his hair and it only spurs him on. He burrows between your legs even further, letting out more determined grunts that you feel throughout your entire body.

“Ch-Chan, fuck, I’m cumming! Right there, right there - I - fuck!” Your hands keep Chan trapped as you let go, legs spasming as he keeps at it, happily lapping up your release that covers his chin.

Out of breath, your body sags against the bed and you pry your legs open to let him up. “Shit, Chan enough. Come up here and fuck me already.”

“Yes ma’am.” His face is covered in you and his use of yes ma’am sends molten heat up your spine and between your legs again.

He leans over to his nightstand to fish out a condom, but you stop him, shaking your head.

“I’m on the pill, just pull out?”

Your words could’ve very well been a spell with the way they make him dizzy, but he doesn’t question it and only breathes out a yes and positions himself between your legs.

“Are you okay? Tell me to stop at any time and I will, okay?” He checks your face to make sure you’re comfortable and when he sees you nod he starts to ease himself into you slowly.

When his bulbous tip slips in first, you’re instantly letting out small mewls that only intensify with each inch that Chan fills you with.

“Oh my fuck, Y/n, you feel incredible. Shit!” Chan grits his teeth as he takes his time entering you. When he’s finally filled you up to the hilt, he has to take a second and take a deep breath. He’s never felt so close to cumming this quickly since he was in high school. It’s embarrassing to admit, but you truly feel like nothing and no one he’s ever felt. Your soft velvet walls cradle him perfectly, clenching every now and again making him even weaker.

“Move, Channie,” you breathe out, lifting your hips a little to get him going. Chan sits up on his knees, wrapping your legs around his waist as he grabs a hold of your hips.

He starts slow as he fucks you, finding a pace that works for him. Once he gets it, which he does rather quickly, he’s relentless. His hips drive into yours at breakneck speed, balls hitting your ass which each thrust forward.

“Fuck, Y/n, baby, you feel like a fucking dream!” His compliment comes out high pitched as he says it, the sound of his hips slapping against yours almost drowning out his words, but you hear him.

“Yeah, fuck, you feel so good Channie. Fucking me so, so good!” Tears collect at the corners of your eyes as Chan bullies into you over and over again, shoving you further up the bed. “You’re such a good boy for m-me, aren’t you?”

Chan’s eyes cross at your praise, biting his lip so hard he nearly draws blood just to keep himself from bursting inside of you at that moment. He nods like a madman, taking deep breaths to push back his orgasm. He’s so terribly close, but he refuses to cum without you.

He pants above you, eyes darting between your fucked out expression with your eyes rolling back and mouth hanging open, your tits that bounce with each force of his body, to between your legs as he catches sight of himself disappearing into your heat. He catches sight of the white ring of arousal you coat around his dick and he feels himself getting closer and closer.

He’s dizzy with lust for you but still manages to check in with you, forcing out coherent words to ask how you’re doing. You reassure him you’re okay, praising him once again about how good he feels.

“H-harder, Channie. Fuck me harder!”

As with anything else Chan does for you, he doesn’t need you to ask twice as he readjusts his knees before leaning forward to bend at the waist, making sure your legs are still secure around his waist. He leans down, his hands on either side of your head as kisses you, the new angle allowing him to thrust into you at a harder pace.

“Just like that, Chan! Fuck me like that!” Your words tumble out of you in a garbled mess, but he hears you loud and clear. The sensation of your nails digging into his back as you hold him closer sends him into a frenzy as he continues his brutal pace. His new position also allows his pelvis to brush against your clit hard enough to send you over the edge all the way.

“I’m - Y/n, I’m so close. I’m -”

“Me too, Channie, me too. Want you to cum. Wanna see you and hear you,” you cry out, each word almost cut off with a moan.

When you cum, your mouth forms an ‘o’ shape and your eyes squeeze shut, stars erupting behind your lids as your body almost convulses underneath him. Your muscles hurt with how hard your body stiffens and your brain only focuses on the drag of Chan’s cock against your hyper-sensitive walls.

The sight alone and your chant of Chan’s name has him cumming next. He pulls out, desperately jerking himself off over you before he panics.

“Wh-where can I?”

“Anywhere, baby! Anywhere you want,” As soon as the last word leaves your lips, Chan yells out your name, his warm seed spurting out and landing on your stomach, some of it even hitting right under your breasts as he milks himself over your body. If you weren’t so tired you’d suck him off to overstimulate him, but for now, you just admire how stunning Chan looks. Skin flushed and chiseled jaw clenched as he empties himself onto your sweaty body.

As he cums, Chan tears up a little because holy shit you’re the best feeling he’s ever felt, and being inside of you is like an out of body experience. He’s no virgin, but this is the first time he’s slept with someone who he has such a strong emotional connection with. It’s the best thing he’s ever experienced in his life, he thinks.

Once he’s released everything he possibly can, Chan rolls off of you and flops next to your spent body. 

“Holy shit,” you mumble, taking a deep breath. “I think my soul has officially left the building.”

“Oh, I know mine is gone. It was gone the moment you let me kiss you.” Giggling, you glance over at Chan who’s already looking at you.

“I’ll always let you kiss me now. How can I not?” Chan grins wide enough at you that you think his mouth should probably hurt. The thought makes you breathe out a laugh.

Chan tilts his head at you. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. Just admiring how cute you are,” As if not expecting that answer, Chan gets a little shy, eyes looking away from you as you see the tips of his ears reddening. You can’t help but lean up and place a kiss on his ear and he jumps at the light peck. “Come on, cutie. Let’s get cleaned up and ready for bed. You can sleep in my room tonight and we’ll wash your sheets tomorrow. Sound good?” 

Chan nods so aggressively, that you almost question how his neck is feeling. He reaches for his tissues on the side table and wipes the cooling cum from your body. He then helps you up from the bed and tosses you one of his towels, wrapping one around his waist. 

When you have the towel covering yourself, you both step into the hallway only to freeze when seeing Hansol coming down the hall, and he stops too. He takes notice of the two of you, standing there holding towels over yourselves, and lets out a laugh. He takes his headphones off and lets them drape about his neck, the sound of “All the Small Things” filling the silence between the three of you.

“I take it the mistletoe worked?”

You and Chan share an incredulous look before turning back to your brother.

“You put the mistletoe up?!” You gasp. You had just accepted the fact that you put it up and forgot, but it’s nice to know you aren't going completely insane.

“Well, it was Soonyoung’s idea. He called earlier and told me to put it up somewhere both of you would end up. I wasn’t sure at first, but it looks like it worked.”

“I mean…kind of. But I have so many questions.”

“Ask them later. I’ve been home for a little while but didn’t wanna come into the hallway and uh, interrupt.” Hansol frowns and continues on to his room. Your brother halts his steps before going in and fixes you both with a look. “Oh, and I only have two things to say. One, Chan, if you hurt my sister I will kick your ass. And I’m telling Cheol hyung,” Chan lets out a small squeak and salutes Hansol, promising he’ll treat you like a queen. Hansol nods and then continues. “And two, can y’all like, I don’t know, leave a sock or something on your doors when you’re gonna do this? I came in and heard some noises I never want to hear my sister and best friend making ever again so just give me a chance to put my headphones on.” 

“Ugh, sorry,” you grunt, your face heating up in mortification. 

“Yeah, yeah whatever. Glad you guys can stop trying but failing not to flirt in front of me. Now goodnight and please keep it down for the night, I’m begging you.”

You and Chan promise your brother that you’ll be considerate and he thanks you before shuffling into his room for the night.

“He took that better than expected,” you observe as you and Chan move into the bathroom.

“Yeah. Honestly, I was expecting him either to be grossed out or do something very out of character and hit me or something.”

You snort, turning on the shower water and hanging up the towel you’ve been holding against your body. “Hansol hasn’t swung on anyone or anything since he was at least seven and that was at our old neighbor’s bird because it tried to land on his head.” 

Chan cackles at the thought, but it’s quickly replaced with a low sigh as he watches you tuck your hair into a shower cap to keep it from getting wet. Watching you stand in front of him, naked and just existing comfortably makes both his heart beat out of his chest and his dick uncomfortably hard. 

You at least can notice the latter, eyes playfully observing his length between his legs. “Someone has an impressive bounce back period.” 

“I can’t help it. I have a beautiful, sexy woman standing naked in front of me. What do you want me to do?”

The bathroom isn’t that big so when you brush past Chan, it’s not hard to brush against him. Your thigh grazes his erection and he groans louder than intended, slapping his hand over his mouth when the sound comes out. You can’t help but giggle as you slip into the shower watching him still stand there and gawk at you.

“What you can do is, come join me in this shower and fuck me against this wall, but only if you can be way quieter than you just were.”

The sentence doesn’t even have a chance to finish completely before Chan is practically leaping into the shower, body crowding yours against the tile wall.

“Anything for you, Y/n.” He peppers your neck and shoulder with kisses, biting the skin as he goes.

“Mmm, you have got to stop saying that to me, Channie. You’ll spoil me.”

Chan pulls away, eyes meeting yours with the most serious expression you’ve seen from him since he confessed his feelings for you earlier this evening.

“Good. I want to spoil you and I will until I physically can’t anymore.” Chan rests his forehead against yours, taking a moment to enjoy being close to you as the shower water warms your skin.

“Only if you let me do the same to you, baby.” His eyes flutter at the pet name and you love the way it seems to make his skin flush more.

“Thank you, Y/n.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know, existing? Making me the luckiest man in the world? All of the above?” It’s your turn to get sheepish at his words, playfully pushing against his firm chest.

“Thank you, Chan. You treat me differently from so many other people I’ve been with and you make me feel special.” You hope he understands just how true your words are. The way he’s treated you since you moved in has been with nothing but care and affection, even before knowing he still likes you. Chan is a truly amazing guy and you consider yourself lucky that he wants you in his life like this.

“You are special and you should feel that way. I’ll make sure to keep doing it. And I’ll make sure you feel amazing and special in every way.” Warm hands slide down your body and slip between your legs to rub gentle circles against your clit. The whiplash from the tender moment to the not-so-tender startles you for only a moment before it’s replaced with want as Chan works you up.

Chan’s dancer hips are something to be studied and worshiped with the way in which he drills into you under the spray. You had teased him with being quiet, but you’re the one that needs to sink your teeth into the thick skin of his shoulder to stop from yelling his name.

He laughs between thrusts, but when you clench around him in retaliation, his pace falters and he pouts down at you. You kiss his pout away, keeping your lips together as you both cum, swallowing the possible noise complaints you’d have received otherwise. 

Even if Hansol had lectured you both about your noise level, it’d be worth it, especially when you see the blissful look on Chan’s face as he gazes at you. Eyes full of wonder, tiredness, and above all else, love. Even though it hasn’t been long at all, you’ll be surprised if he can’t see the same shining back up at him.

Time seems to fly by, and Christmas suddenly creeps up on you. Thankfully, you finish your shopping before the last minute and get everything you need to, done. You and Chan spend the time leading up to it doing as many cute, coupley things that you can think of while Hansol does his best to not be a third wheel. He rarely ever is, but you’re thankful for the support from your brother nonetheless.

On Christmas morning, Chan is up first, already wide awake and looking at you when you open your eyes. It’s cute if not a little surprising at first. He at least lets you brush your teeth and make yourself decent before ushering you into the hallway. He knocks loudly on Hansol’s door as he passes, telling him it’s time for presents. 

His excitement is incredibly endearing and it warms your heart to see him so eager to sit you down on the couch and present you with your first gift from under the Christmas tree. The first box is a small square, secured with a red sparkly ribbon. When you take the lid off, a CD looks back at you in a red, jewel tone case. You smile as you take it out and turn it over, seeing a note on the back along with the tracklist.

Songs for the only woman who’s ever owned my heart. Merry Christmas, Y/n.  Love, Your Channie

Tears prick your eyes at the gesture. It’s a small gift, but it’s personal. You don’t think you’ve had anyone make you a mixtape and yet again, it just proves how sweet Lee Chan is.

“Thank you Channie,” you pucker your lips and he eagerly leans down to kiss you, almost tripping into your lap in the process. “Oh!” He jumps up, running back to the tree for another box, this one wrapped in white ribbons. Inside is another rectangle box, but in that is the gift. 

“Chan?!”

“You like it?” He asks, taking the bracelet out of the box before you can answer. He gestures to your wrist and you present it, letting him clip the shiny, diamond tennis bracelet. “The sales lady said they’re really popular for the “special ladies in your life” this year and I thought you’d like it since you like pretty jewelry.” You give Chan a watery smile, stopping yourself again from nearly crying. Instead, you get up and pull him into a hug, squeezing his waist hard.

“I love it, thank you Chan,” When you pull away, it’s your turn to go to the tree to retrieve his gifts. 

“But I’ve already gotten the greatest gift I’ve ever wanted in my life,” he gestures to you with a flourish, making you roll your eyes.

“Oh yeah? Guess that means I should return these presents then huh?” You dangle both boxes in the air, raising an eyebrow.

“I mean…you already bought them and wrapped them though so you may as well just…” he makes grabby hands at the boxes and you can’t help but laugh, handing over both gifts to him. 

The first one he opens has a shiny silver watch in it that you saw in the mall with Jinah weeks ago and thought of him. It’s your turn to help him as you put it on his wrist, both of you admiring it. He mentions that it’s the nicest watch he’s ever owned and that he’ll never take it off.

When he gets to the other small box, he opens it to see an envelope sitting in the middle of the tissue paper. Curiously, Chan opens it pulling out what’s inside and he nearly passes out.

“Michael Jackson tickets?!”

“Yeah! I heard people at work talk about it like two months ago. He’s going to be in Seoul this summer! I was getting them for you whether we ended up together or not because I know how much you love him. You deserve it!” You beam at him and watch as tears well in his eyes this time. “Aw, Channie!”

Chan jumps from the couch to pull you into a bear hug at the same time that Hansol comes into the living room.

“Hyung, I have to tell you now, but I’m going to marry your sister,” he says in a serious tone.

“Chan!” Laughing, you squeeze his arms, trying to wriggle from his grasp.

“Fine as long as you still stick by my rules.”

“Hansol!” Both men purposely ignore you as they discuss your fictional wedding and Chan brags about his concert tickets. The whole moment fills you with an indescribable warmth, even when Chan finally releases you and lets you sit on the couch.

You didn’t anticipate that you’d end up here when you first thought about leaving your career, but you’re glad you did. You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else other than here on Christmas with your two favorite men.

“The ball is going to drop soon!” Seungkwan announces to your group. He turns the volume of the TV up as the countdown shows on the screen.

It’s New Year’s Eve and your large group of friends is huddled in Jinah’s living room to ring in the New Year. You hadn’t known where you’d be ringing in the year 2000 initially and had anticipated it’d be at home, but with Jinah and Joshua dating and being almost inseparable for the last two weeks, she found herself hanging around the rest of the guys as much as you have and since her apartment is the biggest, she had everyone come here.

You’re sitting next to Chan on her couch as you pull your drinks closer. Seungkwan and his partner sit together holding hands, nervously checking the clock on the wall and looking back at the TV. The two of them, Seokmin, and one of their other friends named Mingyu all found out about Y2K around the same time and have been preparing for it leading up to tonight. No matter how many times you, Hansol, and Joshua try to tell them you’ll all be fine, you let the group of conspiracy theorists have their beliefs, knowing once the new year rolls in, they’ll be fine.

Chan often makes fun of them, but you also never miss the way his eyes widen when they talk about the computers exploding and the world ending.

“Three…two…one, happy new year!” Everyone’s voices echo throughout the room as you count down to the new year together, noisemakers and cheers following.

Chan turns towards you, his lips meeting yours as you share your first kiss of the new year. His hands cradle your face, tilting your head back just the slightest to deepen the short yet sensual kiss.

“Happy New Year, Y/n.” He says against your lips.

“Happy New Year, Chan.”

Around the room, the rest of your friends are pouring more champagne and you catch sight of Seungkwan and his partner still sharing their New Year’s kiss, both smiling, likely in relief. Joshua and Jinah are on the other side of the room, her head resting on his shoulder as they watch the fireworks on TV. Chan redirects your attention back to him to kiss you once more, this one quicker yet just as sweet.

And just like that the world doesn’t end, much to Seokmin, Mingyu, Seungkwan’s (and Chan’s) relief, but your new world with Chan in it has just begun. You’re looking forward to what the new millennia and life with Chan will bring.

Net tags: @kflixnet @kbookshelf | Taglist: @aaniag

[velvet-vox]

Why King Candy has been so underrated and misunderstood for a long time (Still is, but to a lesser extent)

(All the images in this post come from the video linked below)

Hi everyone; so, usually, I'm not a trend chaser, in fact, I completely missed out on the hype of the Murder Drones finale by not releasing something for the occasion, as I have been very busy this past couple of months, and still am, but I've decided to make a special, out of program post just for my new current hyper fixation, that being King Candy from Wreck-It Ralph, who, for the past couple of weeks, has slowly risen up to become my third favourite Disney movie villain of all time.

And all of that, as some of you might have guessed, happened because I watched @king-crawler 's two hour long video essay on the character and the movie that he comes from.

Needless to say, just like many others before, it inspired me to add my own two cents to the conversation, and talk about some points that I haven't seen mentioned anywhere else.

This is probably the only Wreck-It Ralph related analysis that I'm ever going to make.

I even thought about scrapping this whole analysis, because midway through development I thought that I was just spewing out nonsense, but I kept going because some of my points may give food for thought to someone who understood this character way better than me.

I may reblog some analysis/art posts of this character, but I'm not going to turn WIR into a staple of my blog; however, if I see a lot of people in the comments or the reblogs adding stuff or points to my arguments, I could always make a sequel post to this one.

But first, I need to get something out of the way immediately.

Spoilers below the cut if you never saw this movie, kind of important, as it is the movie's major plot twist:

King Candy is Turbo.

Who's Turbo? Watch the movie.

With all that said, enjoy the read, I'll now elaborate on the meaning of my title, also, here's the video in question; I highly encourage everyone to check it out, as it is a way better sequel to Wreck-It Ralph than the one who was lost in the depths of Lake Laogai:

Clarifications:

Wreck-It Ralph is an amazing movie, but one for which I've never had much to think about.

Don't get me wrong, I always considered it to be the smartest Disney movie ever made since my first watch, but I saw it for the first time relatively late, after I had consumed other Disney movies as childhood classics and other crossover movies featuring video game characters, so it never had neither a nostalgia nor hyper fixation factor as reasons as to why I should have put the story under a microscope after that.

Also, as Rando says at the beginning of their video, it is not a movie that blew me away after my first watch. Or the second. Or the third.

Why is this section important? It is important because these are my subjective opinions of the movie, which are unfortunately going to subtly influence what I'm about to say in one way or another, regardless of me trying to speak from a place of supposed "objectivity".

I'm really passionate about this world now thanks to Randomalistic, but you won't get the same vibe from this post as you would get from one made by long time fans of this movie.

Ok?

Good.

Next:

King Candy/Turbo has always been... in a weird spot for me.

Just like the movie where he comes from, I never really cared about Turbo until a month ago, despite always feeling like I should have loved him a lot more, especially since Deltarune chapter 2 released a while ago, and the character of Spamton G Spamton is someone for whom I have very strong feelings about; and Turbo, in a technical sense, is literally the spiritual predecessor of that guy (actually, Turbo is the spiritual predecessor of a lot of similar characters, he kinda was ahead of his time).

If I had made a Disney tier list for their movie villains, a completely subjective one for that matter, I would have put him in A tier, but thinking that he should have gone in B tier... while also feeling like neither were appropriate placements for him.

Randomalistic's video finally helped me fall in love with the character; so much in fact, that it got me thinking:

"Damn, if Turbo is actually this amazing of a villain, why was(is) he so underrated and overlooked by general audiences, when he admittedly is, in my opinion, one of the best Disney villains of all time? Frollo is by and large considered the best villain out of any Disney movie, and the HOND was nowhere near as successful as Wreck-It Ralph when it first released, so it can't just be a matter of first impressions (?). Maybe there are other factors, that stop audiences from recognizing Turbo as the Magnum Opus of villainy that he truly is..."

... And that's exactly what I'm going to discuss!

Let's get right into it.

The minor stuff.

First things first:

He's ugly. I'm sorry to all of the people who ironically and unironically simp for him, but that's a design only a mother could love.

On a serious note, KC and Turbo's designs always felt... not very eye-catching to me? (The bug form is excluded from this conversation)

I'm not saying these are bad designs, far from it; but each form has on them a certain amount of design decisions that, by the authors own decisions, make them unappealing to a viewer like me (I'm using myself as reference point because the topic that I'm talking about is inherently subjective).

Starting off with King Candy, is design has to balance a lot of different aspects simultaneously: it has to be eyecatching, so that the viewer can pay attention to him as an antagonist, and believable enough so that the watchers buy the fact that he is the King of Sugar Rush and not someone else, but it also has to be generic and fake enough so that it can later on add up to the fact this is just a performance, a facade, a ruse, a costume, and not the real character, it also needs to be friendly enough so that the audience can be manipulated together with Ralph into believing that he actually is a good guy;

I could go on and on listing off all the amazing things, that the King Candy facade pulls off simultaneously, but exactly because the design has to feel real and fake at the same time, it also, by proxy, ends up feeling weird, and that inexplicable sentiment can end up alienating the viewers who are watching the movie and the ones who have finished consuming it without thinking too deeply about what the meaning of the KC's facade actually was.

In the case of Turbo's design, all the people working behind the movie did such an amazing job making him look as scary, ugly, alien, and deranged as possible, all the while keeping him relatively PG friendly; the result clearly paid off, but Turbo's ugliness is not as slick as the likes of Ratigan's, nor is it as nightmarishly horrifying as the Other Mother's.

The most nightmare fuel qualities of Turbo's design are hidden out of plain sight, which is basically a recurring theme with his character.

To put it in a funny way, his looks neither end up in the conventionally attractive territory that most other Disney villains fall into, nor do they grab the attention of the Monster Fu###rs crowd.

I have zero things to say about the Cy-bug form, but I do have a section later on where I talk about that entire scene in and of itself.

All in all, it might just be me, but the first impressions of this character's design don't really do him any favours when it comes to his popularity.

I now love both designs, but before, they just didn't click with me, and I think some other people might understand what I'm talking about.

Admittedly, I could have explained this section better, but these were mostly my personal opinions and they are not really important in the grand scheme of things, unless somebody else agrees with me, in that case I'd have to take a closer look at the situation.

Second of all:

The marketing.

To be honest, I feel like what really elevated all of the most iconic Disney villains into pop culture status was a joint push from the company and the artists to include these characters into more stories and products.

Like, sorry to all of the Oogie Boogie fans, but that character is barely in his movie and doesn't do a lot, and he wouldn't be nearly as iconic as he is if Disney didn't use him again multiple times after his first debut.

And the same can honestly be said for all of Disney's most popular villains; they got used multiple times in multiple different projects, that either kept them mostly the same, changed them with some unique twists (that change in quality, but that's up to you), expanded on their preestablished characters, or put them into unique situations that showcased just how versatile they are.

Kingdom Hearts, The House Of Mouse and Descendants are very obvious examples of what I'm talking about, but even appearances in lesser known stories like Lady Tremaine in Cinderella 3, Captain Hook in Jake and the Neverland pirates, or the entirety of Disney Twisted Wonderland help solidify these characters as pop culture icons;

All except Frollo.

Frollo is the only one whose hype and cultural recognizability wasn't built up by the company or the media in which he was featured, but by the fans of the original movie.

And despite Disney almost never used that character ever again after his debut, he, his movie, and Hellfire still get a lot of prise and are talked about classics to this very day.

Because Frollo is just that freaking awesome.

Turbo, on the other hand... is barely in anything.

Let's get the most obvious stuff out of the way first: King Candy is a relatively new character, released in an era where Disney was slowly starting to integrate the new, corporate ideals that we see today.

All of the villains that I've mentioned previously already became tried and true successes by that point, so even if the company doesn't care about having good villains anymore they still use their likeability because it has already shown in the past to bring in audiences.

It's also the main reason as to why Mother Gothel is used so rarely: King Candy, as the last truly great Disney movie villain (excluding Tamatoa, who's barely used anyway, and movies not produced by their main animation studio), arrived at a point in time when the company wasn't pushing for their villains anymore, and instead actively sanitized some of them in their new stories (you know what I'm talking about); therefore, Turbo, being actually incredibly dark on second look, and with no actual intention of tuning him down like Jafar because he hadn't already reached the iconic status by that point, had no reason to make any big appearance ever again or be paraded around as much.

There are some more reasons as to why Turbo likely doesn't have more stuff dedicated to him, like the fact that he is technically 3 characters at the same time, but I don't want to prolong this section too much.

So instead, how about we take a look at some of his other appearances outside of Wreck-It Ralph?

Let's see...

He has various cards in Lorcana, which is his most recent appearance, mind you;

He became a playable character in the 7th season of Disney Speedstorm, a game where I was hoping he would be the main villain, due to a variety of reasons, but hey, that's perfectly fine;

And he was mentioned multiple times in Disney Heroes Battle Mode, a game where he hopefully is the secret main villain, as it would pay off a large amount of story and design decisions chosen for that game, but it's probably just wishful thinking and unless the game's plug is pulled, I doubt we'll see him anytime soon.

Ok, it's more than nothing, but it's also not that special if you ask me.

But hey! At least he got a boss fight in a Kingdom Hearts game! That's more than Randall can say! He was a major boss in Union Cross... the mobile game... that you can't play anymore... and since KH adheres strictly to its own canon most of the time, it also probably means that we'll never get to play through the storyline of the first WIR in any future mainline game, and we're more likely to see a world based around the second movie instead.......

Yeah.

That seems to be it, unless I'm missing something huge (feel free to let me know).

This section is important because Cruella De Vil became one of my favourite Disney villains of all time not after seeing her in the original movie, but after I saw her in 101 Dalmatian Street, a niche show that almost nobody knows; so other medium appearances are important to these characters popularity, especially when not all of these villains are Frollo.

ALSO, PLUS 1+, I was originally going to cut this point, but I decided to add it anyway: the Italian voice actor.

After recently rewatching this movie in English, (I'm Italian, we in Italy translate the movies to our language because it's easier than learning an entirely different language for them), I have to really admit that Alan Tudik's voice performance really does a lot of heavy lifting for the character's memorability.

This is not to say that the Italian voice dub sucks or that King Candy's Italian voice actor does a bad job, in fact, the voices are actually quite similar to each other, it's just that Alan's performance has that small edge of hidden bitterness that really brings the character together; though I do prefer Turbo's Italian voice for its twist reveal: the more raspy, heavy tone of the actor really highlights the vicious, alien nature of his character, as well as the sense of dread that Vanellope is feeling in this moment; I encourage you to give it a watch.

Again, this is extremely minor, and it really only affects me specifically, but don't worry, it's not going to have influence over the rest of this post.

These were just additional points and not the actual meat of my argument, so now I'll start discussing what I actually wanted to talk about from the very beginning:

Who is he?

I think that one of the main reasons as to why Turbo is so underrated is because we spend way less time than with most other Disney villains (before him) to know him as a person.

Think about it:

Most other Disney villains, or at least the most popular ones, all have moments where they are doing nothing to progress the plot, that are dedicated solely to get us to know them better.

Hades has several moments with his minions to show off his personality and anger, Jafar has silly little moments with Iago that show off his depravity, Maleficent has talks with her crow that make her more dynamic, Ursula has her introduction scene where she spies on Ariel and does nothing but talking, and Captain Hook... has 30% of his screen time dedicated to just that.

Heck, Hellfire, one of the most iconic sequences in all of Disney, is just a character set piece for Frollo, and it's arguably completely disposable, as it doesn't really do anything to progress the story, it just explores Frollo's character in deeper depth and that happens to make the big difference when it comes to him.

King Candy doesn't really have an obvious character centric moment, something easy for the audience to quickly latch onto: every time we see him, he is always doing something to push the plot forward.

Yeah, there's that small character interaction with the Donut cops when he gets glasses, and other small moments here and there, like the would you hit a guy with glasses joke, but nothing truly character-defying.

I also don't count King Candy's first scene as a character centric moment, as that's more of an introduction rather than an elaboration, but it is technically valid, even if it ultimately is just a facade that he puts up to serve his needs.

Speaking of which: the fact that most of what we see of Turbo throughout the story could be entirely fake is definitely something that I could use to make the argument in this section stronger, but I'd rather save it up for later.

Also, side note:

I think that the moment most dedicated to him only, to show off a different, "true" aspect of his personality, is when he is walking back and forth in the castle waiting for his cops to show up again.

This moment is so interesting on rewatch, as it is one of the few moments in the entire movie where I can safely say that Turbo is being 100% genuine and isn't putting up any facade whatsoever, as there really is no benefit to him appearing distressed in this situation.

In general, it's funny to think that Turbo's most genuine reactions are of fear.

Back to point one, do you wanna know why Maleficent was given a crow in Sleeping Beauty? The reason as to why was for her to have someone to bounce off, a way for the writers to showcase more facets of her character, and while Candy has Sour Bill, the movie never uses the relationship between the two to show off a different aspect of his character.

To be clear, I'm not saying that Turbo is a worse character than these other Disney villains, or that without these moments of calmness he doesn't work, one great example

Do you know that Calhoun in early development had a camouflage ability, meant to highlight how she hides her feelings but was scrapped because it made her harder to relate to? Well, let's just say that Turbo's entire character is a What If scenario where that idea actually went through.

It's a double edged sword: King Candy is so interesting because he is so mysterious and surprising all throughout the movie, but exactly because he has to be so mysterious, he is not a character as easy to understand as some of the other villains from the company; it's incredibly easy to miss out on just how cruel he is and the full scale of all the damage that he has done.

I, AM, .......the twist villain.

There's also something to be said about how popular to the conversation the twist that King Candy is Turbo became.

Everyone loves this reveal, am I right?

It may not be the best moment in the movie, but my god if it isn't hype, all thanks to the music, the lighting, the setup, yada yada yada....

But the identity reveal scene is to Candy what the Genocide Boss Fight is to Sans: it's the most impactful moment about his character, to the point where it becomes the entire baseline where most discussions are built around, which, more often than not, lead a lot of people to overlook other things about Turbo.

Let me explain: how many analysis videos have you seen where the person making it talks more about the setup and subtle hints present in King Candy's earlier scenes that slowly build up to the twist and less about the events happening in it?

The reveal is amazing, don't get me wrong, but if Rando's video didn't come along to dive deep into King Candy's earlier scenes with the twist already in mind, the true impact of what Candy had been doing throughout the entire movie up to this point would have been lost on me, and I can imagine someone else feeling the same, as me, casual enjoyer of WIR, have been conditioned to think of Candy more for his well planned out surprise, rather than for how that surprise makes the character more engaging (I hope this makes sense).

I also want to mention this video ranking all the different twist villains from Disney and Pixar where CellSpex says that the Turbo twist is useless, since the movie doesn't do much with it afterwards.

Now, aside from the fact that CellSpex is clearly in the wrong and she's missing the point, I think this lack of reconsideration highlights that casual viewers care more about the Turbo plot twist than they care about Turbo himself.

But honestly, I don't believe people focusing too much on the twist is that big of a problem, more so, the problem stems when you want to use the twist... to discuss something else.

Now, I think it's perfectly fine if you want to use Turbo to explain why other Disney twist villains don't work, but when the villains that King Candy is compared to the most are Hans, Yokai, and Bellwether, you kind of start to think that he is only the best of the worst, and not an actual amazing antagonist in his own right.

It may not be a message that was intended to be sent, but it is something that may subconsciously cling to someone's brain, especially when you consider that there might be a huge audience of people who watch these videos because they saw Hans in the title (wishing for the video to bash him), and have seen Frozen, Zootopia and Big Hero 6, but have never seen Wreck-It Ralph in their lives, and they get all their knowledge of Turbo from them.

It's exasperating, especially when King Candy has way more in common with renaissance Disney villains than contemporary ones.

Yes, through technicality, he is a twist villain, but he's more so a hybrid antagonist to be honest.

And even worse than people just grouping up Candy with a bunch of morons, as I've just discovered by reading a comment from this Turbo Tribute, is that some people apparently despise him for starting the Disney Twist villain trend: even if he's leagues better than his competition, the simple fact that you can attribute some of the blame for the fall of villainy onto him, is enough for someone to despise him.

King of the Cy-bugs (feat Rockotar):

Very recently, I've rewatched Rockotar's video analysis of the first Wreck-It Ralph, and when he arrived at the "Welcome, to the Boss Level!" scene, I decided to analyse all the possible reasons as to why he (and possibly many others, such as, admittedly, myself) wasn't as entranced by it as basically any other scene from the movie, who he had been praising non-stop up until this point.

And I think I understood why: aside from the fact that this scene is only a setup for Ralph's sacrifice (and I wished the actual boss fight to be longer and more creative), the Boss Fight is less of a climax for Ralph's journey and more so a character study for who Turbo/King Candy is.

In my opinion, this is the closest we ever get to a "villain at rest" moment with Turbo because in every other scene of the movie, King Candy is always doing something, he's always active and we never see him doing anything that doesn't coincide with his role.

And, paradoxically to what I've just said about this being a "villain at rest" moment, in this scene, he is still doing something and being active in the plot, only that this time, instead of advancing the story, he's holding it back from its conclusion.

This scene simplifies Turbo's character to his most bare bone essentials: he's a short-tempered jerk, a power hungry murderer, a virus; it's all pretty interesting stuff once you take a sweet moment to break it down.

However, there's a point that I briefly mentioned before that I want to bring up; this creature that we are laying your eyes upon, is now three different people all at once, King Candy (anxious, quiet and manipulative), Turbo (short-tempered, competitive and spiteful), and now this Cy-bug hybrid.

To reiterate what I've said before, if you don't think about it for long enough, you aren't going to understand who either character is exactly.

Because that's the big thing: all of his facades, implied development off screen and reactions are so well constructed that at certain points, it feels like we're following two different characters simultaneously, which fits perfectly with the narrative that so called "real" Turbo died and now he's no longer himself, but...

I'm scratching the bottom of the barrel to bring up other possible points as to why this character is so underrated, and the lack of a clear identity seems like a pretty obvious thing to me.

But that's only two out of the three characters I mentioned; we need to take a second look at the Cy-bug form, who, in many ways, is simultaneously the thesis and antithesis of his character.

In particular, there's one thing I want to consider:

There's this theory made by somebody else that says Turbo, upon getting eaten by the Cy-bug, didn't take over the animal's conscience and control his body, instead, upon eating King Candy, the Cy-bug took upon himself his mannerisms, meaning that, according to this theory, neither King Candy nor Turbo technically survived the encounter.

If we accept this theory as true, then that means that even during what is supposed to be a character study, the character that the movie is highlighting may also be just as fake as the act that was put up until this point, meaning that, in a sense, we never saw the real Turbo in the movie.

He was three people at once.

(Yes, I've been spamming this image everywhere, and I'll keep doing so because I can)

In Conclusion:

Turbo is, ironically and unironically, an incredibly subtle character, and that makes it extremely easy for a lot of people to overlook and miss out on the most subtle details and characteristics that make him truly exceptional;

Him being so deceptive and mysterious helps and hinders his popularity, as some either love the mystery surrounding him, others fail to get a good grasp on who he truly is and become disinterested.

He is, by design, a building block, a puzzle to be solved, a character to piece together, that makes him so much fun!

But also, if you aren't interested in putting the pieces together, then he may not be up everyone's alley.

I definitely feel like the best thing that @randomalistic did in her/their video on Wreck-It Ralph was create an easy jumping point for new fans/casual watchers of the movie to get insanely invested over the story and characters;

I'm sure it was incredibly easy for many other people like me to focus only on the most talked about aspect of Turbo, aka the plot twist, and overlook all the other things that were not as much in your face as that; I was blinded by the spotlight, and it made it hard to see the genius that was put everything else;

Now, thanks to Random highlighting King Candy's cruelty and repulsive behaviour, my favourite thing about Turbo is how he weaponized the "disability" of a child to marginalise and persecute her, discriminating her for it all of her life WHEN HE'S THE ONE WHO MADE HER "DISABLED" IN THE FIRST PLACE.

This man, is so HORRIBLE, and he deserves to be publicly exposed for all the heinous s##t that he did, not just for being the best of a bunch of villains who frankly he shouldn't even be attempted to be compared to.

Anyway, I hope someone had fun reading this. I definitely felt like I started to write this with some really good ideas that I wanted to share, but in the end, I feel like they weren't all that interesting to begin with.

Feel free to share your own opinions, and have a great day!

[fleuredelys]

Interaction call. There have been some new faces lately and I would like to reach out to everyone in an effective way, so I hope this will be it. Before anything, I want to preface that I am aware that since the moment we're mutuals with one another, that there is an interest to interact, so this post is meant to go a little further than that. Besides the initial vibe check to see in what page we are, if you like this post, you're agreeing with:

☥ Being okay to be approached via IM for clarification's sake when something isn't clear in some circumstance and/or discussing dynamics between our muses. Said dynamics can be of any kind unless there is of one kind that doesn't apply, which is completely fine. Moreover, there is no pressure in quick answers.

☥ Being subjected to be tagged in random starters, being sent IC asks without necessarily having posted a call for those and meme thingies.

Lastly, for multi-muses: know that I followed with the certainty of what muses I could provide IC content for, no matter if it's from a different fandom than Wuthering Waves. Other titles I am acquainted with are: Honkai Star Rail, Genshin Impact, Kingdom Hearts (the entirety of its titles), Final Fantasy (Type-0, X saga, XIII saga, XV and XVI), Pokémon and a few animes here and there that I'll omit (but which can be asked for and I'll gladly answer without problem). Just like I have a preconceived idea muse-wise, so I believe is your case. So if it would be highly appreciated if you mention the muses you'd like to throw my way so we can connect bridges interaction-wise!

[bettsfic]

how do you flesh out an idea into a real story, when the idea is simply a question or theme? I feel like there is many ways to take a story when your idea is broad like this.

i've answered similar asks like this that you can find in my process tag and idea generation tag. i think i probably addressed it most closely in this ask.

it's a very interesting coincidence you asked me this, anon, because i just finished a novella whose plot is cobbled together by 3 ideas in a trenchcoat. they were all half-formed concepts that never came together on their own but i still really liked them and held onto them. i think the earliest one was from 2016? unlike a lot of my other stories, i did kind of brute force this one but i think it came out okay! we'll see if my early readers vibe with it or are just "what the fuck, betts." (furry ghost story!)

in the post i linked, i talk about "the easy, long road" of vague ideas, which feels a bit like hoarding, keeping useless things believing you'll one day need them for something. except they don't take up any space, and the good ones end up sticking with you and you *do* end up using them. i think i always take the short, hard road at first, thinking something magical will happen, but i always end up losing steam. that said, whatever i jot down ends up being really helpful when i finally do manage to use an old idea.

i agree, there are many ways to take a story when your idea is broad. it's like being handed a block of wood and you have to carve it down into something but you have no idea what. if you're feeling really compelled, you can make it happen just by getting started. if you're not, you just kind of have to wait until you figure out what it is you want to carve, and do it with more intention than the other option.

i think a long time ago i wrote about "aesthetic piles" but i can't find that post. the idea there is that you create a working title for your theme or question (furry ghost story [actual title "little thousand"] was "dog-eared" for several years), and whenever you watch or read something that fits the aesthetic of that thing, you add it to the pile. eventually you'll put something on the pile that topples it over, and that's when you can start writing it.

and sometimes you end up writing something and realize later that it answers that question or addresses that theme you'd wanted to pursue ages ago. i guess that's the good thing about broad ideas: they're not just single stories, they're generally your core subject matter, things you'll come back to again and again, and concepts you'll pursue whether you intend to or not. i wrote a little bit about developing your Project in a previous newsletter.

[aerequets]

I really liked the scene you drew for the fanfic Once more with feeling. Do you have other fanfics recommandations? PS. I love your art :3

thank you! :D and yes of course i do 😎 i have this list (twiyor) from a while ago but i have amassed more than enough new faves to make a new one!

i will try to get a mix of fics w/ different vibes, and different lengths, as well as those that you may not have heard of before. most if not all of them will be twiyor tho, bc that's what i read most.

i'll put them under the cut!

FUN FACT i spent like 45 mins writing a list and SOMEHOW DELETED IT ALL. so this is take 2 😭😭😭😭 ANYWAYS

The Woman in Red by @nightofnyx8

rated M, 7/7 chaps, 47.9k words

this fic feels like a book to me if i was already invested in the characters. it revolves around yor, who gets an assignment to find out where a bunch of trafficked girls are being kept by the asshole of the millenium, vito cohen. it is also post reveal, post relationship twiyor. this fic has dark moments just by virtue of the subject matter, but none of it feels gratuitous if that makes sense? like every bit of violence lends to the whole picture. there are also some Steamy ™ twiyor moments, which are easily skippable if that's not your thing, but their whole relationship here is just written so well. the trust is there and the protective loid vibes are 👌 i m m a c u l a t e

Smoldering by @julphines

rated G, 1/1 chaps, 2.1k words

i freaking love the look into post reveal, pre relationship twiyor we get here. it's not overtly romantic but instead them getting to know each other. i especially love the details of them having to make themselves be vulnerable in some ways because they just aren't used to it. a really nice, in-between sort of fic :)

In Love With the Distance by Newt on ao3

rated T, 37/37 chaps, 21.5k words

this one is formatted as a collection of letters and i am OBSESSED. i think the author does a very good job getting the character voices down, and the fact that the progression in their relationship is clear despite being in this letter format will never cease to amaze me. it's also incredibly consistent and has cute 'ciphers' at the top that are used to disguise the letters. this one is also post reveal, and kinda follows what happens immediately after. some bits are outside the letter format, but for the most part, it's loid and yor writing to each other. love

La Vie En Rose by @jubileen

rated T, 1/1 chaps, 3.7k words

i love me a good ol 5+1 fic, and this one did not disappoint 😌 i especially liked how the thing that is being counted here (you know, the "five times x and one time x") is not explicitly stated each time. it's something that is as slowly revealed to the reader as it is to the characters, which is a nice touch. and there are more things you catch after a reread, which i am also a great fan of!

An Ever Fixed Mark by Spiraling (Stormwind13) on ao3

rated T, 3/3 chaps, 3.8k words

soulmates that share wounds!!!!!! need i say more?? ALSO, there's some GORJUS artwork in this fic! actually, the first "chapter" is just the cover page, and then in the third chapter is another illustration which is so well done! so that's a plus :) this fic has the nice ol heartwrenching mix of backstory and present for the characters, another plus!

this fic is restricted tho, so u gotta be logged into ao3 to read it 🙏

Love, He was Certain by toteally on ao3

rated M, 1/1 chaps, 3.2k words

this one is so funny and good to me bc loid goes head empty seeing fruit juice dribble down yor's chin KJFDHSJ i love when overthinking characters suddenly can't form a thought at the most mundane of happenings. ALSO the thing fics/books do when the title comes up and you're like OHHHH THERE IT IS!!! yeah that as well

Macabre Theme and Variations by @piracytheorist

rated T, 15/15 chaps, 66.6k words (lol)

WOOOO TIME LOOP FIC! yet another thing that i am a fan of :DD although HEED THE WARNING because there IS violence but there is also a happy ending. this fic follows twilight as he goes through the same day over and over again and tries not to die a horrific death forever. mans gets more trauma, BUT he also gets character progression and a happy ending so fair trade off right 🤔 (yes. the answer is yes)

anyways, this list is hardly even the tip of the iceberg. there's also my bookmarks which, at the time of writing this post, are at 354... most of which are sxf/twiyor.... so yeah LMAO obviously i couldnt put all of them into this post but definitely check those out. i've also got my own works if you're interested but hopefully this list contains fics you have not yet read, and that you will like 🙏🙏

(if your fic is on this list and you haven't been tagged + would like to be, pls let me know!)

[strongbookthoughts]

Notes on The Art of Fair Isle Knitting by Ann Feitelson

So this year's crafting goal is to learn double stranded color knitting. Expect to see me reviewing more than a few titles on the subject. This one was published in 1996, and is pretty good despite having some wildly different vibes than more current books.

This book opens with nearly 40 pages of history about fair isle techniques and aesthetic as it developed in the islands that make up the most northern bits of England. It's honestly a neat little bit of micro history, and it gives you the ability to recognize which patterns/colors are more historically accurate than others. I know enough reenactment nerds to think someone who cares about that could see this post.

The section on technique is mostly black and white line art, but my most important takeaway is that it doesn't matter what color is in what hand (or both in one) as long as you control your tension.

And then the section on color theory is MASSIVE. It analyzes anything that impacts color down to how you are swapping between your colors.

Most of the patterns are jumpers (sweaters for Americans) and the patterns mostly have sizing up to about 50in. I suspect the exact sizing was determined more by motif repeats than anything else.

The models might be professional, but it kind of feels like the author just got a bunch of average people up in scotland to pose in scenic local places. There's a nice range of age and body shapes, but everyone is white.

Since I'm not really looking to make sweaters or design my own patterns (seriously, the color theory section is EXCELLENT), I'm not sure if I'll return to this book. But I'm also rather pleased to have read the history section. YMMV.

[wrongcaitlyn]

do you have any jegulus fic recs??

YES ABSOLUTELY

it's been a bit since i've read jegulus fics bc the solangelo hyperfixation has been so strong but i still have plenty bookmarked!! i'm just going to share my favs of my favs, but i have even more (21 total) bookmarked on my ao3 :)

(also, just gonna put this right here, that i 100% would rec crimson rivers, best friend's brother, and just lovers by bizarrestars, and art heist baby! by otrtbs but i feel like everyone in the jegulus fandom has already read those bc they're pretty much classics, so just know!! i love those fics!! but i'm gonna try and rec some other possibly less known fics here :))

ALSO ALSO - all of these authors have incredible other fics and i highly recommend you check out their entire dashboard!!! for literally every single author on this list. i'm subscribed to all of themjkdf

You Signed Up For This by Solmussa

James and Regulus have a summer fling that they promised their friends they wouldn’t have. Remus and Sirius discover their mutual hatred is just pent-up sexual tension. Dorcas and Marlene are always winning, even when they’re not. It’s a cruel summer for all. first of all i'm extremely attached to this fic bc it introduced me to maisie peters, which led to one of the best concert experiences of my life!! but other than that, this is just so beautifully written, so detailed, and an all-around incredible fic. everything by this author is incredible too!! it's got the perfect balance of angst vs fluff and just summer vibes, which is prob the perfect thing to read right now - anyway, DEF read if you haven't already!!

Mastermind by pieceofchocolate

Regulus Black is the mastermind behind the Liberal party. Unfortunately, he’s never been very good at the more outgoing parts of politics – on a more fortunate note, he has his brother to act as a front figure. Sirius Black has always been the sweetheart of British politics, charming the voters with his wit and charisma. That was until James Potter came around, becoming party leader of his own party, the Leftists. Sirius would probably hate him, if they weren't such good friends. Regulus does not share this problem. Remus Lupin literally just needed a job, and got thrown into the mess of secrets, games and an upcoming parliamentary crisis. With an election around the corner, things are bound to go awry. MCD WARNING but so worth it. like genuinely. it's a painful fic but there's also a good dose of fluff and i enjoyed every single second of reading despite it being politics and.. well, i'm from america so you can probably guess that it was very strange to actually be attached to these characters while they were politicians😭 this one's also so well written and - there are fics where you can just tell that the person cares so deeply about the topic they're writing about, and this is one of them!!! i love finding fanfics where authors are just incredibly passionate about the subject/au OH and it has a taylor swift title. so like. yk it's already gonna be good. (this is also actually one of my favorite songs ever so i was soo excited to read)

blue and yellow skies by alarainai

Quidditch Rivals turned Quidditch Lovers. That's what the world sees them as, at least. Too bad Regulus hates James Potter's guts, and James? Well, it doesn't matter what he feels about their definitely fake, definitely emotionless relationship. c'mon. there had to be one fame au on this list. and i KNOW that this one's sports, but it's so so so fucking good - and i'm gonna be honest, i've read so many of the band au's (there are quite a lot in this fandom, even i've written one) but for some reason i didn't have any of them bookmarked - which tbf, i'm very selective with what i bookmark lmfao but!!! this one is just SO good the plot, the social media aspect, the background wolfstar, just 10/10 fic!!

these violent delights (have violent ends) by damagecontrol

titanic au prepare for pain. MCD warning. but like, the pain is written so well, and it's so heartbreaking, and i literally remember staring at the ceiling after reading this (finishing at like 2 in the morning) and just not being able to think of anything but that ending, and like, you KNOW that you're going to be in pain bc it's a titanic au, but like, GOD it's so good. i genuinely don't even have the words i'm still depressed bc of it (but in a good way)

The Mystery of the Pears by sonwar

In the cave, Regulus doesn’t beg for it to stop. He begs not be left behind, alone. Perhaps this is why, when Kreacher gives one last look over his shoulder and sees terrible, pale hands reaching for his master, he appears in a flash at Regulus’ side, clutches him by the elbow, and Apparates them both out of the cave, directly disobeying his master’s last order. canonverse fic!! and such a lovely au. the romance between them is just so natural, and yet there's still the war going on - but really, it's just so well written, despite all the angst of the war, imo it's just such a feel-good fic. love this one so much.

Only the Brave by Solmussa

A fic about two idiots falling in love (x2 because there's wolfstar, too) during a war, and the sacrifices they'll have to make to survive it. andddd this one's the big one. this one's the one i choose to accept as canon. like. GUYS. THIS ONE'S SO FUCKING GOOD if you haven't already and you're a jegulus fan, you just HAVE to read it like genuinely. the plot is so well-thought out, all of the interludes give these other characters their own stories too, and the angst!!! but also the badassery!!! i can't even explain it but if you want a canonverse war au where jegulus survives and they all win, then, like, this is the one. it's so perfect. prob my fav jegulus fic of all time.

and those r my recs!! hope that you enjoy them, and i have several others in my bookmarks!! i've also written some if you haven't checked those out, but!! happy reading :) thank you for the ask!

[sapaul]

Azriel’s bonus chapter-second half:

I reread the BC again for the hundredth time and paid more attention to the second half this time than I usually have before and I have some thoughts. This is definitely going to ruffle some feathers but that’s okay.

A lot of anti-elriels like to use the argument that Elain and Azriel give off brother-sister vibes. Even though in this same chapter, we find out that he does in fact want to go down on her and he almost lost it just by her neck alone.

But with the second half of the bonus chapter, I’ve come to the conclusion (my own conclusion) that Azriel and Gwyn have a brother-sister relationship. Using “relationship” very loosely here. More like the annoying little sister and the brother who’s too busy for her.

It’s no secret that Azriel is a quiet, shy guy who doesn’t really open up to many people. This is including Gwyn. He’s not trying to get to know her. He has no interesting in it, obviously.

He was literally contemplating running away rather than having a conversation with her. The only reason he stayed and talked to her is because she already spotted him.Not very romantic, if you ask me.

When he sees her, he sees what has happened to her. He remembers that tragic day, and she remembers it too. When they look at each other, that’s what they see.

Here is what I mean “annoying little sister” vibes. She is nagging him about his title as a shadowsinger. Then asking questions about if he sings. She nags, I should say […] “She pressed”. He had to change the subject because he knows that she is going to ask him to literally sing for her. Weird lol.

This is after the interaction he had with Gwyn.

Their interaction did not change his mood at all. Or how his heart is breaking because the one he wants is elsewhere and spoken for. If their interaction was romantically coded, why would his eyes show sadness? Wouldn’t they show some sort of excitement at all?

Again, she is not his friend.

He is the one who made that very evident. It’s not something made up. Their interaction, this one interaction, did not change the fact that he’s not friends with her. That is a fact.

And finally to this: the famous Gwynriel quote that they live by.

Clotho just told Azriel “she DESERVES something beautiful. I thank you for the joy it shall bring to her”.

That’s not a romantic statement coming from Clotho. She knows the gift will make her happy. She’s not even going to mention who it came from. The gift giver doesn’t matter, the way she will feel about the gift does.

“Something sparked in Azriel’s chest”

A friendly quote, a friendly thought. He knows that even though the necklace that was meant for Elain was not accepted, it will make someone else happy.

He knows that when she sees it, her eyes will glow (iykyk). Because she deserves to be happy after the trauma she has endured.

He knows what she has been through, he was there. Knowing the joy it will bring to her is the glow he buried deep down. Like making his little sister happy. He buried it deep down because it’s not taking front seat of his life. He’s going to move on with his life, which is evident in the rest of ACOSF. He is carrying the memory though.

Should we also mention that he didn’t even take the time to get her a gift with her in mind. Never forget that it’s regifted. How romantic.

The way I ready it is Azriel giving Gwyn that necklace is something that will bring her an ounce of joy. He sees the way she is now compared to how she used to be.

It’s not about the necklace itself. It’s that she will be receiving a gift.

This is what I see as brother-sister.

This is not romantically coded. This is not even friendship-coded.

Side note: he’s still an idiot for regifting but I sort of understand it. He didn’t get her anything. He was seeing her grow as a person, letting go of her past. He thought she could have used something nice. Doesn’t need to know it’s from him though. But again, still an idiot.

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

Forgive These Bones I'm Hiding (Part 2 of 2)

Pairing: Serial Killer Marcus Pike x f!Reader (Reader is a police officer with the nickname “Cricket”)

Rating: E (explicit smut, 18+ only)

Word Count: 13.8k

Warnings: This is a Spoooooooky fic for Halloween season. Please heed the warnings; this is not darkfic, per se, but it explores dark themes and contains elements of suspense and horror. The following subjects are mentioned in the context of cases that the reader deals with. I do not go into explicit detail about any of these themes and any violence is implied rather than seen, but please heed the warnings for: child abuse, domestic abuse, alcoholism, drunk driving, implied sexual assault, suicide, drug use, drug overdoses. Whew. Okay, for the story itself, please be warned that there is: derogatory language (someone calls reader a “bitch”), murders, body horror (corpses!), Marcus Pike being a bit unsettling, Very Enthusiastic Pussy Eating, unprotected PIV sex (this is fiction! use protection and also maybe don't fuck a serial killer!)

Summary: When five paintings are stolen from their frames, an unusual crime for your small-town precinct in Hannibal, Missouri, it's easy for you to project your insecurities about being a female police officer in a tiny, Midwest town onto the handsome FBI Agent from Washington who arrives to help with the case. But as your disposition--and the solid walls you've built around yourself--begin to soften, you quickly find you have bigger problems than the charming man you can't help but develop feelings for. One by one, bodies are starting to pile up. Bodies that all seem to share one connection… You.

Additional A/N: OKAY, so things definitely pick up in this chapter! Please heed the warnings, as Cricket’s past cases feature in a big way. There are more corpses, more unsettling!Marcus, and, of course, more MURDER. Thank you to @littlebirdsbookshelf for being an amazingly supportive human, beta reader, and crime consultant! Thanks for making sure my self-indulgent fanfiction always has its roots in reality!! They can’t fuck if I can’t make it make sense first. PLEASE check out our Playlist for all the spoopy Midwest Gothic vibes. The title of this fic itself comes from Family Tree by Ethel Cain, which is of course on the song list!

Masterlist | Part 1

The next morning starts with a headache.

"Wha'th'fuuuuck," you croak. You’re so disoriented that it takes you a few moments to realize your alarm is going off. 

You fumble for it, surprised to find it on the charger. You don't remember plugging it in. For that matter, you don't really remember getting home last night. Did… Did Marcus…?

Confusion and dread cut through the hangover, and you switch on the lamp as you sit up in bed. 

You're still in your clothes from last night, but your boots are untied and placed neatly on the floor next to the foot of the bed. 

You look around your bedroom, looking for more clues as to how you got here. There's a glass of water on your nightstand, and upon further inspection, two ibuprofen next to it.

You rifle around beside it looking for a note, but you come up empty-handed. It doesn't really matter; you can pretty much guess what happened: You got so wasted that Marcus Pike had to help you get home. He took off your boots, but clearly didn't feel comfortable taking off the rest of your clothes. He made sure your phone was on the charger and even went so far as to anticipate your need for water and pain medicine in the morning. 

Something still feels off, though. Just call it a gut feeling, an instinct, some vestigial part of your hindbrain that's telling you something.

Maybe you forgot your purse…?

But no, when you finally drag yourself out of bed to check the entryway, your purse is there, hanging on its usual hook. 

Shaking your head (probably a mistake, going by the ache that shoots through it when you do), you chalk up the odd feeling to the hangover. You don't remember the last time you had that much to drink, after all. 

You feel slightly better after taking a shower and downing another glass of water, but your stomach still roils and your head still hurts as you throw on your uniform. You're thankful for the dark sunglasses that come with it when you step outside your house. 

Fuck. Why did you drink so much?

You pull into the station about thirty minutes late, which isn't that bad, considering how many glasses of whiskey you had. How many, exactly? You lost count after three, but you know there were more. You were upset about Bobby and unsure of whether you even made a difference in this town and… wait, did you cry last night? In front of Marcus? An image flashes through your mind: Your head buried in the crook of his neck. A wet patch on his white dress shirt from your tears.

Oh, fuck. 

The man in question gives you one of those characteristic grins when you enter, still wearing your sunglasses. 

"Moving a little slow today, are we?" Marcus asks playfully. 

"Jesus fuck," you murmur, collapsing into your chair with a sigh. "I guess so."

"I've never seen a woman put away that much whiskey," he comments with a wink in your direction.

"And you never will again," you groan. "I'm swearing off the stuff for life."

"I don't blame you."

"Jesus, I don't even remember what happened last night. I woke up this morning with no memory of how I got there."

Marcus laughs. "You don't?"

"I barely remember what the hell we talked about. Oh, God–was I an ass? Would you tell me if I made an ass of myself?"

"You didn't make an ass of yourself," Marcus promises.

"I feel like I got all maudlin about the job," you say, frowning.

"You did, a bit."

"Sorry if the evening was a sob-fest."

"I think you're allowed to be upset after finding Bobby Pearson like that."

Cold dread shoots down your spine. Heart in your throat, you stare at Marcus open-mouthed.  

"Did… Did I tell you that last night?"

"Didn't need to." He holds up a copy of the Hannibal Courier-Post with a grim expression. Oh. Right. There it is, right on the front page, accompanied by a picture of you deep in conversation with the Coroner. 

You shake your head, laughing slightly. "Jesus, guess I really am out of it this morning."

"You up for a ride?" Marcus suddenly asks.

"Huh?"

"To the St. Louis field office," he explains. "I texted you yesterday about forensics, remember?"

"Shit, that's right! I'm–I'm sorry–"

"Don't be. There was a lot going on," Marcus insists. "But they've got some stuff for us to look over. Wanna go for a little drive?"

"Only if it's you who's doing the driving," you say. 

"Done."

"And if we stop for coffee."

"You drive a hard bargain, but I accept."

An hour later, with a latte in your hand and your head tipped against the cool glass of the passenger-side window, the fog of your hangover begins to clear and you start to feel much better. The sun glints off of the pavement of State Road 61 as Marcus speeds along in the left lane on the way down to the city. Everyone steers clear of what’s obviously an unmarked police car, and like all officers before him, Marcus takes full advantage. The tall grass next to the road blurs as you stare out over endless fields, dotted with the occasional farmhouse. The day is crisp; one of those beautiful fall days where the temperature stays low even though there’s not a cloud in the sky. If you squint your eyes, you can pretend you’re flying.

At the Field Office, Marcus breezes through security with his badge and his characteristic toothy grin. After you’re presented with a visitor’s badge, the two of you walk down the stairs to the basement, and down a dimly lit hall until you reach a door that reads “Forensics - Art Crimes.”

"Basement, really?" you ask, wrinkling your nose.

"Windows are bad for the degradation of paint," Marcus points out. Then, with a grin, he adds, "Plus, they always give Intelligence the prime real estate."

When he opens the door, your face brightens. Unlike any forensics department you've been in previously, this one is full of… well, art. You aren't sure why that surprises you, but Marcus chuckles as you gaze, open-mouthed, at the selection.

"It's like our own little secret museum, huh?" he says, eyes twinkling.

"Okay, I think I get why you like your job now," you say quietly as you examine what looks like an ancient Greek vase on one of the tables. 

"Is that…"

"Fake," one of the lab workers says with a shrug. "Art museum still purchased it for two mil, though. Oops, right?"

"Oh. Is most of this stuff fake, then?" you ask.

"Nah. This one's a genuine Picasso that was recovered from the black market," the woman says, waving her hand at a colorful painting leaning against the wall. "We're in the middle of returning it to the rightful owners."

"Holy shit," you breathe. 

"New to art crimes?" the woman asks.

"Not a lot of paintings to steal in Hannibal," you say with a smirk.

"Ah, so you're Rockwell.”

“No, I’m–oh. Haha, I get it.”

“Damon’s been taking the lead on that one. His office is there in the back; he’s expecting you two.”

Marcus greets Damon like an old friend while you stand by his side doing your best to look ‘official.’ Something about being here–in the FBI building–makes you feel like a country-bumpkin of a cop. Maybe it's just the ever-present chip on your shoulder (Okay, it’s definitely that.), but the moment makes you feel like you need to fight to take up more space, puffing out your chest and straightening your spine. And when Damon offers his hand for you to shake, you grasp it more firmly than strictly necessary, something you’ve learned over the years is an effective tool to assert yourself as a female officer.

“So you’re the lead detective on the case?” Damon asks as you shake his hand.

“Yessir.”

“Fantastic. Well, I hate to bring you all the way down here to deliver bad news, but running the prints didn’t give us any matches.”

Your heart sinks. 

"But," the agent emphasizes, "your team did excellent work canvassing the area around the museum for CCTV footage, and we got some hits at one am at a few different places. Compiled it in a presentation for ya, if you wanna take a look."

At your eagerness nod, Damon turns his second monitor around to face you.

"So, first hit is at Main Street Bed and Breakfast," he explains as a grainy, black and white, blurry photo appears on the screen. Hard to ID, but it looks like we've got got male, maybe six foot, two-thirty, on foot heading away from the museum, which would be just across the street over here–" he points at the corner of the screen. 

"Then the same individual shows up walking past Java Jive–" another grainy photo, not much clearer than the first, " –and then he turns down the alleyway behind the Dutch Country General Store, and gets into a white Pontiac Grand Am."

"He puts something in the backseat," you exclaim, pointing at the blurry shape.

"Mmhmm, something skinny and long," Damon says.

"...Like five rolled-up canvases," you offer, raising your eyebrows.

"It's not a lot to go on, but this is the only individual we saw out walking that night that didn't originate from any of the establishments we analyzed."

You watch the series of images, squinting as if it will help with the pixelation. The license plate, of course, is completely illegible as the car drives away.

"We've got people analyzing the plate, but best they can do is determine that the first letter is either a 'C' or an 'O.'"

"Better than nothing," you concede.

"Obviously, a Grand Am is gonna be a pretty common car in the area, but it's somewhere to start. We'll start pulling state records, and we'll be in touch if we–"

The loud ringing of your work phone interrupts Damon, and you wince apologetically as you pull it out and see 'SGT HUBBARD' on the caller ID.

"Hullo," you chirp amiably.

"Hey," Hubbard says on the other end. "We've got a body."

You straighten with a sharp intake of breath. Two deaths in Hannibal in less than a week? You don't think you've ever seen anything like it. Frowning, you duck out of Damon’s office and walk several paces away.

“I’m in St. Louis for the Rockwell case, but I’m finishing up,” you tell him. “I can be there in an hour and a half.”

“See that it’s quicker.”

You roll your eyes, mutter a “Yessir,” and end the call.

“Pike,” you bark, causing Marcus to look up with those pretty, soulful eyes of his. “We gotta go. There’s a case back in Hannibal that needs my attention.”

“Yes ma’am.” He gives you that wide, toothy smile again, and you remember how last night it had felt… unnerving to you. Like there was something lurking behind that earnest grin that no one else knew about. You shake your head. Jesus, you had way too much to drink last night. Get a grip, Cricket.

Lights on and sirens blaring, you zip past farms and woodlands. The official GPS time says one hour and forty-nine minutes, but you can do way better than that. Other vehicles automatically part for you, leaving them all behind in a blur of red and blue. Tongue poking out between your teeth in concentration and hands on ten-and-two, you think this might be the best part of the job. The part where you’re flying. 

You drop Marcus off at the Station with your apologies and race to the address Hubbard gave you.

The coroner’s office and a local news van are already there when you arrive, and the Sergeant looks disapprovingly in your direction, as if you could have shortened the drive from St. Louis through sheer force of will. 

“What is it?”

“Harold Dalton, 54. Apparent suicide.”

“What? What the hell is in the water that–”

“Hush. Keep your voice down. Right now, we’re waiting on State Police to come help with this one–there was a firearm involved.”

“He shot himself?”

Hubbard’s mouth is a thin line as he nods grimly. “Not a pretty sight.”

“Dalton…” you murmur to yourself. “Why do I know that name?”

“He’s got some priors,” Hubbard says. “Possession, some assault charges that were dropped, and–”

“Child neglect,” you whisper, as the realization hits you. “Oliver Dalton.”

“Shit, yeah,” the Sergeant says, realizing the connection at the same time. “God, how many years ago was–”

“Five,” you answer automatically. 

“That would make Oliver…”

“Sixteen.”

“Mm,” Hubbard grunts. “Ever check in on him?”

“He’s bounced around from home to home,” you answer, trying to keep the emotion and bitterness out of your voice. “Doesn’t last in one place for very long.”

“It’s a fucked up thing for a kid to go through,” Hubbard mumbles. “Can’t imagine he’s all that well-adjusted.”

The two of you stand in silence on the run-down, rotting porch. What a fucking shithole, you fume, scraping a piece of flaking paint with the toe of your boot. In the distance, you can hear the faint sound of sirens coming closer.

“Know we’re not supposed to say it,” the Sergeant finally says, as the State Police car pulls into the gravel driveway, “but good fucking riddance.”

Dalton. Now that the connection has been made, you can’t believe you didn’t remember immediately. You suppose you have tried your best to put his name–and several others–in a tidy little box in the corner of your mind. It’s easier that way.

Except… Why does it feel as though you were just thinking about him? As soon as you hear it, the pang of familiarity rushes through you, but you can't put your finger on why…

Hubbard is shaking hands with the two state cops that just arrived when your phone pings. You pull it out and glance at the thumbnail. 

“Hope everything’s okay! Talk to you later.”

It’s from Marcus. Something prickles across the back of your neck, and you slide your phone back into your pocket without responding.

“Officers,” you greet the newcomers, forcing a cordial smile and sticking out your hand to shake.

It was just the cold breeze making your hair stand on end. That’s all. 

“Sorry I had to dump you at the station like that this morning.” You tap out the message on your phone as soon as you get back into your squad car.

“It happens, don’t worry I know how it is.”

After a few minutes, Marcus begins typing again. 

“Want to meet up for a drink?”

“Fuck, no. You have any idea how shitty I felt this morning?"

"Noted. How about dinner, then? And some water?"

You pause. Drinks are one thing. But dinner? That could be considered "date" territory if you think about it too much.

You must be silent for too long, because your phone pings again.

“Had something I wanted to ask you about the CCTV sweep.”

It’s an obvious effort to sweeten the deal and get you to say yes, and you know it. You should tell Marcus you’ll discuss it tomorrow at work, pick up some fast food on the way home, and eat it in front of Jeopardy!–alone. 

Instead, you find yourself typing, “Dinner sounds good. Water sounds better. Where were you thinking?”

Marcus begins typing almost immediately. “How’s the Mark Twain Dinette?”

You snort to yourself. “Just as bad as you’re thinking. But Finn’s Food and Spirits is surprisingly edible if you’re looking for local eats.”

“Edible, huh? That’s not really a ringing endorsement, but I try not to go to chain restaurants when I’m traveling, so… let’s do it! :)”

It isn’t until you get into the shower that the reality hits you of how strange it is to be washing off the remains of two very similar cases in as many days. Not just two consecutive deaths–but two suicides, in a town of barely fifteen thousand people. 

And you knew them both. 

What you find most jarring, however, is the difference in your own mood between the two days. Yesterday, the weight of Bobby’s death felt as though it was dragging your body down. Today, though, there’s a weight off your shoulders. A burden you didn’t even realize you were carrying, suddenly gone. Hubbard had said it well, earlier–said what you’ve been thinking the entire day since. 

Good riddance.

You arrive a few minutes before Marcus, so you go in to grab a booth for the two of you–sitting where you can see the door, as you always prefer to do. Being a police officer has left you with some funny habits; it’s actually pretty nice to be able to talk to another person in law enforcement, for once. It isn’t like you go out much with Hubbard, who is both your supervisor and over twenty years your senior. Evan strictly works nights, so you don’t see much of him, either. You’re acquaintances with some of the officers in surrounding towns, but you don’t have much patience for their “I’m a cop” bravado–or even worse, the “Thin Blue Line” stickers on their car windows. 

Marcus seems different, though. Sure, he’s got an air of confidence around him, but you can tell it’s not an act at all. And yet, despite that confidence, there’s a softness to him: something in the upturn of his eyebrows, in the way his lips part when you speak, the way he seems enraptured by your every word–

When the man consuming your thoughts enters, you jump slightly, afraid, for just a moment, that he could read your mind. His expression brightens the moment he sees you, eagerness written all over his face, and you shake yourself.

This is why you can’t let him in.

“Everything go alright today?” Marcus asks amiably as he slides into the booth opposite you.

“Yeah, yeah,” you wave him off, shaking your head. “Nothing big.”

The lie sits heavy on your chest. He’ll find out tomorrow–along with the rest of Hannibal–when the day’s Courier-Post arrives at the station. It’s just that you don’t want to talk about it, not tonight. 

“Yeah,” you say again. “So what was the thing with CCTV?”

“Hmm? Oh,” Marcus says, taking his eyes off the menu for a moment and giving you a discerning look. “Why don’t we just save work stuff for tomorrow, huh? C’mon, take a break–what’s good here?”

You shrug. “The catfish is usually fresh-caught from the river, if that’s your sort of thing.”

“Is it your thing?” he asks, a glint in his eye.

“I make it a point not to eat anything that was recently pulled from the river.”

Marcus hums in response, scanning the menu again. When the waitress comes by to take your orders, he gets the catfish.

“Country-fried steak,” you say, handing her your menu. 

Silence falls at the table; without reading material or decisions about food to be made, you aren’t sure how to talk to the man opposite you. He intrigues you; he attracts you… he also scares you, just a little. Is it possible to be too disarming? Too earnest? If so, Marcus certainly is, and something about his sincerity… puts you off.

Fuck, when you think about it that way, maybe you’re just an asshole.

“So the CCTV question was just a pretense to lure me here,” you say, raising one eyebrow in challenge.

Marcus holds up his hands in mock-surrender. “I plead the fifth. But I–listen, the truth is, Cricket–I can call you that, right? You, uh, you never gave me your first name.” When you don’t offer an answer, he forges ahead. “I’ve been told I’m forward, and that’s probably accurate, but the truth is, I think you’re one hell of a good looking woman, and I’d love to get to know you better.”

Your stomach flips over at his words. As much as you’d hate to admit it, you’re not immune to flattery, and certainly not coming from such a beautiful man in his own right. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly.

“I find it easy to talk to you,” Marcus continues. “I’m on the road a lot, and it can be… lonely. You don’t know how much of a relief it is to have someone to talk to who gets it, who’s been there, you know?”

You nod thoughtfully, tracing the rim of your water glass. “I do get it. I–I’ve been alone for quite some time, too, and there are few people in Hannibal that I can really sit down and just talk to. I–I guess what I’m saying is, it’s a relief for me, too.”

Marcus reaches slowly across the table and, in a barely-there caress, runs his index finger across the back of your other hand. 

“I–” you say hastily, pulling your hand back and settling it in your lap, instead. “I want to be clear that I’m not in the stage of my life where I’m looking for anything temporary.”

“Me neither,” Marcus says, his eyes burning intensely into yours.

“Anything between us, is, by very nature, temporary,” you point out. “I live here in Hannibal. You’re going back to Washington upon completion of this case. I’m not against seeking mutual relief from loneliness, but I’m just… I’m not sure if I know you well enough to go down that road.”

Marcus’s eyes are full of understanding and acceptance. He draws his hand back and sits back against the booth with a small, wry smile.

“So, what’d’you wanna know?” he drawls, letting the Texan accent slip out in full force.

So… you talk. And talk. 

And talk. 

Your plates have long-since been empty and the ice in your water glass has melted, dripping condensation onto the checkered tablecloth–and you feel as though you’ve been given a glimpse past the toothy smile and confident demeanor, into a deeper, hidden vulnerability underneath. 

“...She–She broke up with you via text message?” you ask, dumbfounded at Marcus’s most recent admission.

“God, when you put it that way, it sounds… way worse than it was, but yeah,” he chuckles. “But honestly, when I look back, the writing was on the wall. I was rushing, she was dragging her feet. There… there wasn’t a future there.”

“Do you do that a lot? Rush, that is?” 

Marcus hums loudly as he seemingly deliberates his answer. “Mmm, I don’t like to see it as rushing.”

“How do you see it?”

“I’m a man who knows what he wants,” he says simply, dark eyes flicking up to meet yours.

It makes you shiver slightly.

“Has that made me hasty, on occasion? Impulsive? Sure. But I don’t see the point in hiding what I am only to be disappointed later. Eventually, I’ll find who matches me beat for beat. Someone who has the same ambitions, the same drive. The same passions.”

His eyes bore into you again, and you swallow. 

“You are forward,” you comment, somewhat breathlessly.

“I know what I want,” Marcus says again–quieter, this time.

“I wish I had that degree of certainty,” you whisper, laughing shakily.

“I think you do. In here,” he says, placing a palm over his heart. “But you second-guess it in favor of what’s up here.” He taps his index finger against his temple. 

“I happen to think humanity in general should obey their brains a little bit more, speaking from experience.”

Marcus laughs loudly, breaking the intense mood that had settled over the table. “I don’t think you’re wrong. But when it stands between you and your desires? Sad,” he comments, pouting his lip slightly.

“Some desires should remain just that–desires, nothing more.” Your voice wavers.

“I respect that,” he says lightly. Signaling to the waitress with a wide, friendly smile, he asks for the check. “But you don’t strike me as a person who indulges most of her desires. You put everything else first, don’t you?”

“Not always,” you object, bristling slightly at the blatant call-out. 

“I’m sure,” he grins as he scribbles a signature on the receipt. “Well, Cricket, I hope I’m wrong. I hope you chase the things you want, that you indulge in the little things that bring you joy, that you live your life not being afraid to say ‘I’m doing this for me.’ After all, I’m seeing such a fleeting moment of your life, aren’t I? A blink of an eye in the scheme of things. You and I are merely ships passing in the night, never to be seen or heard from again.” He stands. “Have a good night, Cricket.” 

And with that, Marcus gives you one last fond smile and disappears through the front doors, leaving you stunned–frozen to your seat as you absorb his speech.

You wake up confused for the second morning in a row.

Bright and loud. Why is it so bright and loud?

This time, the confusion resolves itself quickly as your brain comes back online and you realize that your work phone is ringing again. 

The old-fashioned alarm clock across the room reads 5:23 AM.

“Hullo?” you croak.

“You’re not going to fucking believe this.”

At the sound of the Sergeant’s voice, you switch on your bedside lamp and blink rapidly in the harsh light. 

“What is it?” you ask, trying to sound more awake than you actually are.

"Maisie Fletcher called the station around four saying her husband never made it home from the Waterhole. Evans drove the road from town to their house about a mile south just to take her statement, and found solid evidence of fresh skid marks leading into the river.”

Your heart sinks. The river. 

“Any sign of a vehicle?” you ask, already suspecting you know the answer.

“No.”

You take a deep inhale through your nose and let it out slowly through your mouth. Pulling a body from the Mississippi is miserable, unpleasant drudgery. First, you’ll spend hours directing boat patrols back and forth in a cross-hatch pattern for miles south of the suspected entry point. Then, once you finally find the vehicle, the work to exhume it from the water begins. The fire department will need to be coordinated with, and, depending on the depth of the car, a SCUBA team or a crane. 

“Fletcher…” you repeat, frowning. “Isn’t that–” 

“The domestic disturbance couple, that’s right,” Hubbard confirms. 

You snort. ‘Couple’ is a strong word, in your opinion. The husband, Gavin Fletcher, was single-handedly responsible for half a dozen trips out to their house along the river over the years, but every time you’d asked Maisie–with increasing urgency in your tone–if she’d like to press charges, she had declined. And every time, you’d leave the house with a lead balloon in your stomach. 

You always worried it was a matter of time before the “domestic disturbances” turned ugly. Or worse… fatal. 

And now… he’s in the Mississippi. Maybe. Possibly.

Is it bad if you find yourself hoping he’s at the bottom of the river?

Yes. Yes, it is. 

“Understood,” you sigh into the phone. “Let me throw on my uniform and I’ll meet Evans down at the bank.”

After a long day of standing on the banks of the Mississippi, watching patrol boats pass back and forth in slow, deliberate lines while drizzle slowly seeps its way down into the innermost reaches of your clothing, a vehicle turns up around six pm. You watch as the fire department uses the Jaws of Life to pry open the driver-side door, sending a cascade of muddy water onto the ground. 

It’s difficult to recognize the former person being pulled from the wreckage–even after less than twenty-four hours of being submerged, water can do a fucking number on a body–but a search of the wallet in the back pocket of its jeans confirms the identity of the swollen, bloated corpse that used to belong to Gavin Fletcher. 

Predictably, the task of notifying Maisie Fletcher is handed down to you. 

Your mouth is a thin, tight-lipped line as you drive down the gravel driveway that you wish wasn’t so familiar. You barely have to knock before Maisie is at the door and falling to her knees in a display of grief that you simply can’t find yourself to feel. Try as you might, you can’t force anything–any emotion other than ‘numbness’ onto your face as you deliver the news as gently as you possibly can. 

Maisie, still weeping, agrees to meet you at the morgue tomorrow to officially ID her late husband, and as she shakily rises to her feet, you can’t help but note the not-quite-healed-over bruise on her temple. 

You need a fucking drink. 

Thirty minutes later finds you at the Waterhole nursing a cold beer and an even-colder mood in your still-damp uniform. 

Palmer, ever the charmer, leans into your personal space with all the enthusiasm of someone attempting to disarm a bomb, and mutters, sotto-voce, “You smell like a goddamn fishmonger, Cricket.”

At your deadpan glare, he backs away, hands in the air, and makes a show of cleaning cocktail glasses instead.

You don’t much feel like talking. 

For one–yeah, the lingering smell of river brine–with the barest hint of ‘bloated corpse’ underneath–doesn’t put you in a sociable mood.

But what’s really bothering you is all of those old “domestic disputes” hovering in the forefront of your mind ever since Hubbard said the name ‘Fletcher’ at 5:30 this morning. God, you had all-but-begged her to press charges; in hindsight, you probably sounded insane. And each time, you took her refusal personally–as if it were happening to you, not to her. You’ve worked hard over the years to put that hurt, that anger away in a tiny little box in the corner of your mind, but the death of Gavin Fletcher seems to have released it all over again.

He’s dead, you point out to yourself. There’s no point in resurrecting your demons.

“Back at it, I see?" a slightly amused voice calls out from your periphery, and you close your eyes in exasperation.

You can't do this dance now.

"Marcus," you say with a resolute sigh. 

"Fancy seeing you here," he grins, and slides onto the barstool next to yours. "I'll have the same," he says to Palmer, who nods.

Seated next to you, you can tell exactly when the odor of your uniform hits his nose. He pauses, beer bottle halfway to his lips, and cocks his head in a way that would be comical, had you been in a better mood. His eyebrows pinch together, causing a little crease to appear between them, as he looks at you. 

"Did you… get dumped in the river earlier?"

You sigh again. "Not exactly. Had a car go into the river last night. Had crews searching all day, and finally found it this evening."

Marcus lets out a low whistle. "Roads must have been slick last night with all the rain," he points out.

"Yeah, exactly," you agree. "Honestly, it's probably worth it to put a feature on hydroplaning in the local paper after the news comes out. Not enough people take it seriously."

"Occupants?"

"Just the one. Male, forties. I can't release any names until tomorrow, though."

"I know," Marcus says, smiling fondly. "So after a day in the rain and the Mississippi mud, you're so ready for a beer that you don't even change out of the wet uniform, huh?"

"Fishmonger," Palmer grunts from the other side of the bar.

"I wasn't going to say it, but…"

"If you two are gonna gang up on a woman drinking, I'll damn well go home and do it alone," you grumble.

"Nonsense," Marcus grins. "If I bought the second round, would that convince you to stay?"

"One," you say, holding up your finger. "You have me for one more drink. Then I'm going home and getting into a hot bath."

"Yes, ma'am," he drawls, a glint in his eye when you mention the bath. "Guess I'll have to get my fill in the span of two beers."

You drain your first bottle and set it down challengingly. 

"...One beer," he amends.

"It's just as well," you tell him. "I'm less than pleasant company tonight."

"Impossible," Marcus promises. "Your company becomes more and more entrancing to me the more I'm graced with it."

"I guess if you can't handle me at my 'smelling like rotten fish,' then…"

"Don't make me beg to 'handle' it."

"Marcus!" You bark out a surprised laugh in spite of yourself. 

"Ha! There it is," he crows triumphantly. 

"Are you trying to cheer me up or piss me off?"

"You looked like you could use the former. Seems as though you already have enough of the latter."

You can't help but chuckle again. Damn him that it's working.

"Is it so wrong to desire the company of a beautiful woman who smells like the bottom of a river?"

"Leaving," you sputter through your stifled laughter, although you make no move to get off of your stool.

"You wound me."

"I'm not the one habitually insulting your smell.”

“If I smelled like that, I’d hope someone would ask why,” Marcus points out with a teasing grin.

"I guess if I had known I'd be doing… this, I would have gone home and showered first."

"Doing… what?" Marcus asks, a flirtatious glint in his expression.

"This. This… dance, this back and forth." You gesture between the two of you.

"This… dance?" he repeats teasingly. "Cricket, if you wanted to dance, all you had to do was say so."

"Do you ever stop?" you laugh, rolling your eyes.

"Of course I do," Marcus answers, sounding affronted. "I'd never push someone if I didn't think my feelings were returned."

You close your eyes and exhale shakily. "You know I do… I do feel the same way, Marcus. And it isn't like I haven't thought about what you said last night–in fact, I've thought of it a lot. But I keep coming back to the fact that I just… I don't want to just scratch an inch. I'm looking for…" 

"Connection?"

"Yes," you say emphatically. "Exactly. Not to be melodramatic, but I'm just too damn old for anything else."

"I feel the same way," Marcus murmurs.

"If you feel the same way, how the hell do you reconcile the fact that we're from two different parts of the country?" 

"I don't know," he says softly. "But I know I can't ignore what I feel for you–the connection I feel between us. I know that's real, don't you?"

You drain the last of your beer and set it down on the counter. 

"Guess that's my time," Marcus chuckles resignedly.

"Walk me to my car," you say quietly. 

Marcus nods, throwing some cash onto the counter and extending his hand to you. "Shall we?"

Not taking your eyes off of his, you gently slip your palm into his own. He walks you to your car, one hand resting perfectly at the small of your back and making the skin there tingle slightly.

“I won’t ask to kiss you,” he announces as you open your door. “But from one passing ship to another, I’ll just say that you look so goddamn beautiful right now under the streetlights.”

You turn carefully around. Marcus’s expression is open and earnest. His lips are parted, his eyebrows upturned as he watches you. He’s made his desires clear, and you… you simply want to bask in that all-consuming attention of his for just a few moments. 

Slowly, achingly slowly, you bring your palm up to lay against his sternum. Your eyes meet–a question in his, an answer in yours. 

Just as unhurriedly, Marcus steps closer. He gently cups your chin in one of his large hands as he tilts his head just slightly and lowers it to meet you. 

His lips are soft when they slowly brush against your mouth. The kiss is sensual, full of longing and barely restrained passion lurking just under the surface. His lips are parted, but he makes no attempt to deepen the kiss; you never feel the careful slip of his tongue into your mouth or the sting of teeth. Despite this, it might be the most sexually charged kiss you’ve ever received. A wave of pure want surges down your spine and into the base of your core and your grip on his shirt tightens to steady yourself as a small, involuntary noise escapes from deep in your chest.

You expect things to escalate from there. You wait for your back to hit the side of your car, to feel the weight of Marcus’s body against you as he pins you against the door. You wait for his hand to grip your hip, his fingertips to dig into the back of your neck as he takes control.

Instead, he pulls back–breathing shakily as he does–and rests his forehead against yours.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have done that,” you laugh breathlessly, thinking of how the hell you were supposed to to work with him now.

“Maybe not,” Marcus chuckles back. “But I don’t regret it. I can’t.”

The orange light from a nearby lamp casts half of his face in shadow, making his features stand out in dark relief: the bow of his upper lip, the angle of his cheekbone, the strength in his brow, the line of his nose… 

He’s the one who looks beautiful, you think. Out loud, you say something else. 

Just one word.

Your name. 

Marcus’s lips part in surprise, eyebrows turning upward as he realizes the gift you’ve given him. He could have used it all along, of course, had probably seen it in the city directory before he’d even met you. 

But he waited for your consent, instead.

And oh, how sweet it sounds when it falls from his lips for the first time like this, his mouth just inches from yours.

“I can’t believe I let you kiss me smelling like this,” you joke, trying to dispel the heavy cloud of tension.

He laughs quietly, and murmurs your name again, his thumb brushing delicately back and forth against your cheekbone. “Go home,” he whispers. “Take that bath. It’s late.”

You nod, swallowing thickly. “See you tomorrow.”

Marcus steps back, giving you a fond, warm smile. “Sure will.”

Christ, what have you done?

The thought doesn’t hit you until the wee hours of the morning, when you bolt upright in bed before your alarm and realize that you’re going to have to continue working alongside Marcus for the foreseeable future. 

You don’t know him, not really; you don’t know how he’ll act in a professional setting after a very unprofessional moment between the two of you. He brings out a softness in you that you don’t recognize, a deep yearning at the very core of you that had been shoved down and suppressed for years. Vulnerability is punished in your line of work, especially as a woman, and you’ve gotten so well-practiced at stamping out any trait that could be perceived as weakness that you, unknowingly, eradicated it from your personal life as well.

How long has it been since you’ve let someone in?

How long have you denied yourself the comfort of another’s touch?

Damn him.

He’s brought all of these feelings to the surface, and now you have to worry about not only his reaction to seeing you at work today, but yours as well. 

Will you be able to hide the way your body seems to gravitate toward him? Can you keep your face from betraying you? 

Will he be able to remain aloof and businesslike, or will the mask drop–showing everyone the hunger in his eyes? 

You shudder slightly. Please, let the day go smoothly. 

As it turns out, all your nerves were misplaced. There’s no awkward reunion, no shy smiles or stilted small talk. 

“They ID’ed the guy!” Marcus exclaims loudly as you walk into the bullpen. 

The outburst from the typically softspoken man surprises you so much that you nearly drop your coffee.

“What?” 

“Your Norman Rockwell thief! His name is Reuben Porter, and he lives in Moberly.”

A slow smile spreads across your face. “No way.”

Marcus grins back, dimple on full display. “Fancy a drive to the field office today?”

“Hell yes. Gotta be sooner than later, though,” you add, thinking of Maisie Fletcher. “I’ve got a meeting at three.”

“Yes ma’am,” he smirks. “Shouldn’t take too long. They’ll share all of their files, and you and your precinct can be the ones to make the arrest.”

“Wait… you’re not doing that?”

“Told you it was still your case,” he points out. “Yeah, before you know it, I’ll be out of your hair and on a plane back to D.C.”

“What a relief,” you joke, but the words hardly have any bite to them. Back to D.C.? Part of you wants to have your fill of him first; that kiss last night only left you craving more. All you can think about is his lips on yours, and wonder about the feel of his body as it pins you to the bed. 

“I’m sure it is.” 

Marcus’s voice deepens, his tone tinged with amusement, and you fight the urge to avert your eyes like a schoolgirl. 

“Shall we, then?” you say lightly, raising your eyebrows and tilting your chin upward.

“You’re driving, this time,” he says with a boyish smile.

The car is where the tension finally returns. The air feels dense, each lull in polite conversation pregnant with what goes unmentioned and unacknowledged. To your surprise, you find yourself itching to address the elephant in the squad car, even after what feels like hours of giving yourself pep talks before work, promising yourself you wouldn’t be the one to slip.

“When… when is your flight?” you ask instead.

“Tomorrow.”

“...Oh.”

“I know what you’re thinking,” Marcus says seriously.

You blanch. “You do?”

“Mmhmm. ‘Good Riddance,’ right? Mister Big City Agent, finally getting out of your way so you can arrest the jerk who had the audacity to defile the Mark Twain Museum.”

You bark out a surprised laugh. “I can’t tell if you’re making fun of Hannibal or not.”

Marcus makes a show of appearing offended. “I would never poke fun at the birthplace of Samuel Clemens.” Sobering, he adds, “I hope you know by now that I care very deeply about every art case.”

You can’t help but beam at him. Taking a leap of faith, you respond. “And I hope you know by now that I’m not hoping the door hits you on the way out.”

“Yeah?” he asks quietly. 

“‘Course.”

Marcus slowly reaches his hand over to you and drags just the tip of one finger from your wrist and down your hand to the end of your pinkie finger in a barely-there caress. 

You let out a shaky exhale as the squad car pulls into the lot of the St. Louis field office.

Damon greets you and Marcus cheerfully as you enter the Art Crimes Department. He shakes your hand, offering his congratulations, as you follow him back to his office.

“Here you go,” he says, handing you a singular flash drive. “The final identification reports identifying Reuben Porter as the thief, and all related case notes.”

“...That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Oh,” you say, turning the flash drive over in your hand. “Why not just email it?” 

“File’s too big,” Damon shrugs.

“Got some stuff for you, too,” Marcus adds, pulling out his field notebook and a manila folder and handing them to you. “My notes, and my formal report of my involvement in the case.”

“Thank you,” you say, looking at Damon, and then at Marcus. “For your expertise and your support. I’ll–”

You’re interrupted by the loud ringing of your work cell. Grimacing, you give the agents an apologetic smile and duck out of Damon’s office.

“Yeah,” you say impatiently into the phone.

“Hey,” Hubbard replies, sounding, for once, incredibly hesitant.

“...What’s going on?”

“Can you go on a call?”

"I'm at the St. Louis field office with Pike," you tell him. "You'll have to call Evan in."

"Evan is already here," the Sergeant says, making you frown in confusion. 

"He is? Then why–"

"We’ve got a body, but Cricket? …It's Johansson."

You don't realize your legs have given out until you feel the cold chair underneath you. Your breath comes in short pants after hearing That Name. That fucking name.

"Jakub," Hubbard continues, as if you needed to be told.

"H-How?"

"Looks like an overdose, but the autopsy will have to confirm it, obviously."

You feel as though you're floating above yourself. That fucking case. You hadn’t been on the force long; it was the first time the system had failed you. Failed her. 

"I just thought you should know," the Sergeant is saying. "If you need to take a few days–"

"I don't," you interrupt. "Thanks for telling me. You still need me to come?"

"Nah," Hubbard says. "Have fun in St. Louis."

"Yeah," you hear yourself saying over the blood rushing in your ears. "Thanks." You robotically set the phone down on the table, eyes unseeing as you process the conversation. 

A warm palm lands on your shoulder, and you exhale shakily. "S-Sorry, just give me a minute."

"Are you okay?" Marcus's voice is full of concern.

"Yeah, it's um… just a name I haven't heard in a while, is all."

But that’s not true… is it? The name is fresh in your brain, feels familiar when you silently form the shape of it with your mouth. Jakub Johansson. You’ve tried your best to put him–and all the other cases that keep you up at night–in the past, but ghost after ghost keeps turning up this week, in more ways than one. 

“Do we need to get back to Hannibal?” Marcus asks.

“Nah. No. They’ve got it handled, they were just–it was one of mine, so… informing me, I guess.”

“One of your… what?”

“Sorry. Just an old case. Someone connected with it, anyways.”

“Everything alright?”

“They’re dead,” you deadpan. And even as you say the words out loud, a weight you didn’t realize you had been carrying seems to lift from your shoulders. Finally unparalyzed, you turn and look at Marcus. His gaze is burning, his eyes searching your face with unrelenting intensity. 

“Do you need to take a moment?” he asks softly, plush lips barely moving and his wild eyes never once leaving you.

Suddenly, the windowless Art Crimes Department feels stifling, like there’s not enough air. You can’t speak; you can’t breathe. Instead, you nod as you quickly rise from your chair and all-but-bolt from the room, walking quickly down the hall and up the stairs until you reach the lobby, then rushing out of the main entrance. It’s only then that you feel as though you can suck in a deep, ragged breath of crisp autumn air.  

You’ve carried this case with you for almost seven years. Seven years of feeling like you were the one who failed–not the system. You. You could have collected more evidence, you could have fought harder, you could have–no. You pace the sidewalk, repeating the statements the Force’s therapist gave you all those years ago. You did everything you could do. You helped a woman in need and brought a bad man to justice. His light sentence is not your fault. 

And now he’s dead.

Why doesn’t this feel like relief?

That feeling, the one you've been having all week, returns. That feeling of wrongness, like you’re forgetting something important. 

“Hey.” A soft voice cuts through your thoughts.

“I don’t understand what’s going on,” you murmur, not turning to acknowledge Marcus. “What the fuck is happening this week? Pearson, Dalton, Fletcher, J-Johannson… I’ve seen more dead bodies in one week than I’ve seen in a fucking lifetime.”

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Marcus points out, “not a dead body.”

“The case with Johansson, it… it fucked me up for a while,” you say quietly, not looking at him. “I had to take time off, I was appointed a therapist to speak to, I–” 

“The details must have been really upsetting to you,” he says gently, laying his hand on your forearm.

“I had panic attacks,” you whisper, feeling the leftover shame wash over you. “We’re supposed to keep our own emotions out of the job, and I… I failed–”

“That’s not a failure–” Marcus starts, but you interrupt quickly.

“I failed her,” you grit out through clenched teeth, spinning to face him head-on. “I thought I was doing everything I could, but it wasn’t enough.”

The soft sound of your name causes a sob to catch in your throat.

“Listen to me,” Marcus says softly. “You did everything you could, I know you did. You’re a caring, capable, brilliant cop, and you did everything in your power. And besides, the universe has a way of making things right, doesn’t it? He came to justice in the end.”

You snort. “He fucking overdosed in his own home, and his victim was left with a lifetime of trauma. If that’s justice, the universe has a funny sense of humor.”

You deflate with a sigh. Checking your watch, you give Marcus a humorless smile. “We’ve gotta go, anyway. I need to be back to meet with the wife of a drowned man at the morgue.”

Maisie Fletcher’s demeanor is far more stony than it had been the day before. Head held high and lips pursed, she strides confidently into the observation room and watches expressionlessly as the sheet is peeled back to reveal Gavin Fletcher.

“That’s him,” she confirms with no emotion in her voice.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you say, because it’s what you’re supposed to do.

Maisie snorts, the first time her facial features have changed since she walked in. “Really? Knowing what you know about him? You might be the only other person who knows the truth about what he really is.”

When you don’t answer, she speaks again.

“This might be the best thing that's ever happened to me." The words are whispered, barely audible even in the cryptlike silence of the morgue.

You nod at the mortician, Milo, who you remember from a few grades below you in school. He nods back and carefully replaces the sheet.

You escort Maisie back out to her car with a heavy heart and brooding thoughts.

"What are you going to do?" you ask quietly.

"I'm leaving town. Soon as I can. I–I never meant to stay here, but…"

"It's hard to leave," you murmur. "The town, mean," you correct quickly. "It sucks you in. Believe me, I know."

"You could go, too," Maisie points out. "Every town needs cops."

"And leave all this?" you joke. "I'm good. Really. Just been a week for the record books."

As Maisie drives off, you turn and see that Milo is watching you from the front entrance.

"There a problem?" you call out.

"Nah, just wanted a second opinion on something. You busy?"

You shake your head, walking back into the morgue behind the mortician.

"Lot of new tenants this week," Milo says. He pauses, looking over at you as if waiting for your laugh. You manage a weak one, but it seems to satisfy him. He stops in front of one of the metal drawers and turns toward you. "This one, the one they found yesterday? The autopsy hasn't been completed yet, but I wanted to run something by you to see if you agree with my analysis."

You shrug, holding your arms out in a gesture for him to continue. He grabs the handle and pulls, revealing the pale, stiff corpse of Jakub Johansson. You suppress a flinch.

"It doesn't take an autopsy to conclude that the overdose killed him," the mortician says. "We've got all the classic signs of a fatal dose of Fentanyl. Should be cut-and-dry."

You pause, a small frown on your features. “If it’s cut-and-dry, why am I sensing a ‘but’ there?”

“Well, the overdose is cut-and-dry. No one walks away from that many drugs in their system, but… well, it looks like he got into a fight or something right before.”

“A fight?”

Milo sweeps the sheet back from the corpse’s arm. “Here. See, there’s the puncture from the needle, but look–” he gestures at the upper arm, where, through the discoloration of the already-decomposing skin, you can clearly see five purple marks. 

“Someone grabbed him,” you say quietly. 

“Mmhm. And here.” He points to the forearm, where a larger bruise runs horizontally across the skin. 

Staring at the marks, the image starts to crystalize in your mind. “It looks like… like someone grabbed his upper arm, and held his forearm in place with their knee, or something.”

“That’s exactly what it looks like,” Milo nods grimly. 

“He was held down,” you murmur, barely audible in the silent room. “He was held down and given a fatal dose.”

“The injuries were perimortem,” the mortician adds. “They would have been sustained just before he overdosed.”

“How long before?”

“No way to be precise, but…” he clicks his tongue, “...no more than an hour or two.”

You thank Milo in a daze, heading back out of the morgue with rapidly swirling thoughts. You can no longer ignore the facts: All the people who have died this week, with the exception of Bobby Pearson, were on your list of ‘Cases that Haunt your Dreams.’ That list… subconscious, but so vivid that you may as well have it written down on a piece of posterboard and hung opposite your living room couch. They were the cases that kept you up at night, the reason you… 

… the reason… you…

…drink… to… forget.

The phrase seems to set off a chain reaction in your mind. You hear it again and again, but not in your own voice…

In the voice of someone else. 

“They say there’s only two kinds of people,” Marcus says. “Those who drink to remember, and those who drink to forget.”

You remember his soulful eyes, the understanding in his expression as he acknowledged that he knew exactly which of those people you were.

“I drink to remember.”

“The living, and the dead.”

The dead.

Images flash rapidly in your brain. Him telling you the work matters. Urging you to tell him the names. Pouring you another drink. You, crying against his dress shirt. Him pleading with you to let it all go, the burdens you carried.

The names…

Nothing makes sense, anymore.

Well, actually, everything makes sense, it’s just that you don’t want it to. 

Everything that’s happened over the past week is leading you to one conclusion–and you simply aren’t ready to face it. Not yet. 

You can’t face it… but you can’t let it go, either. It would be against everything you thought you stood for. So rather than go home and drown your suspicions in more whiskey, you go back to the station.

Not bothering to turn on the lights, you sit down at your desk and power on your computer. The blue light is harsh in the dim bullpen as you open the FBI’s website and search for the Art Crimes department. You glance at the directory–Supervisory Special Agent Marcus Pike at the very top, of course–then navigate over to the department’s news page and scan the recent case headlines. 

Wilton Man Admits Operating Fraud Scheme

Palm Beach Art Dealer Sentenced to Federal Prison for Laundering Money From Art Fraud Scheme.

Lips pursed, you open up a second tab and search for ‘Wilton.’ It’s a small town in Connecticut–and you find the town’s local newspaper easily. You click back to the FBI page, look at the date the man was arrested, and look through the newspaper archives on and before the same day. 

No major headlines stand out, but when you read the obituaries for the week, goosebumps begin to rise at the back of your neck. Elliott Bradford, 42. Overdose. Mark Hampton, 38. Suicide. 

Those kinds of deaths are common everywhere, you try to tell yourself. But, pulling up yet another tab, you search for the first name. Immediately, article after article appears in the results. Heart in your throat, you click on the first. 

Sex Offender Elliott Bradford Implicated in Trafficking Ring. The news is from over a decade ago–but the details are enough to turn your stomach. He’d been sentenced to ten years in prison, which means he would have just been released… last year. Mere months before Marcus would have been there for work. 

When you search for Mark Hampton, you find a similar story. Marjorie Hampton Files Suit Against Husband Mark Citing Repeated Abuse. And just a few years later, he’s dead, too.

A little voice in the back of your head tells you to stop digging, but you can’t seem to quit. You repeat the search with Palm Beach, and find that again, the obituaries are filled with accidental deaths and suicides from the town’s most violent men. 

Minneapolis. North Hollywood. Palmdale. You’ve gone as far back as 2016, and every town has the same pattern: Marcus Pike arrives for a case, and days later, known abusers start turning up dead. 

Every. 

Single. 

One.

It’s nearly two in the morning when you finally force yourself to stop. Your mind is swirling with names, dates, and heinous crimes. And all of them died within weeks of the town being visited by a certain FBI Art Crimes Detective. There’s still a part of you that can’t believe your conclusions are real–that the sweet, kind man you can’t deny your feelings for any longer is actually a killer. Which is why, hands trembling, you do the one thing you definitely should not do at this moment.

You text Marcus Pike.

“I need to talk to you.”

You regret it almost immediately. Part of you hopes that he’s asleep. He has to be, right? It’s two AM. Shaking your head and inwardly chastising yourself, you slip your phone into your pocket and start shutting down the computer. 

When you get up to leave, however, your phone pings.

“Where and when?”

"I–I need to talk to you,” you blurt out the moment the hotel room door opens, but the sight before you almost makes you swallow the last few words.

Marcus is shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of gray sleep pants low around his hips. You can’t help but stare at the sight, taking in his broad shoulders, the light musculature of his arms, his slender waist and the soft skin on his stomach. A light trail of hair disappears below the waistband of his pants, and you swallow thickly as you drag your eyes back up to his face.

"So you said," Marcus says quietly. If he’s amused at your obvious staring, he doesn’t show it.

"You–what're you doing up so late?"

"Never did sleep much," he says with a crooked grin. One of his eyebrows raises as he looks you up and down. "Why are you up and at my door at this time of night?"

"Losing my fucking mind," you murmur shakily.

He steps forward, reaching his hand up to tenderly cup your cheek. Your eyes flutter closed as your body instinctively responds to his touch.

"Marcus," you whisper. 

"And why does that bring you to me?" he asks, his voice deepening. His thumb traces back and forth across your cheekbone.

To confront you, you want to say. To make you tell me I'm not crazy. That I figured out your secret.

Instead, you reach out and touch one trembling hand to his sternum, indulging in your desire to touch that expanse of golden skin. 

You open your eyes to find him watching you with a hooded, coal-black gaze. His eyes flick down to your hand on his chest, then back up to your face.

The moment feels like the drawing back of a bowstring. It seems to linger, seconds stretching out longer and longer until the inevitable moment where everything snaps.

Suddenly, Marcus is pulling you forward, shutting the door, and pressing you back against it in one swift, fluid motion. 

His entire body molds to you–hips, hands, lips–with far more ferocity and less restraint than the night before. You feel the sting of his teeth, the grip of his fingertips as he takes from you.

You aren't exactly idle, either; your hands map the planes of his chest, hips canting up to grind against the hard length you can feel there. When he pushes right back, you groan loudly and dig your fingernails involuntarily into the meat of his upper back, and he hisses.

"Sor–"

"Again," he growls, so you scratch harder.

A low, feral sound escapes from deep in his chest he breaks away from your lips and kisses a frenzied path down your neck.

"This was always going to happen," Marcus rasps into your skin. "You, and me. Can't you feel it?"

"Feel–?" you gasp, arching your back at the little nip of teeth at your shoulder. What you feel, right now at least, is the hard, thick length of his cock pressing insistently against your stomach, and it empties your mind of all other thoughts. 

"Feel the electricity between us. The connection," Marcus clarifies between kisses back up your neck until he gently nibbles your jaw. 

"Mmhmm," you whimper. Your knees almost buckle.

"Tell me," he orders. 

"I feel it."

You reach down and grasp his erection through his clothes as if to punctuate your meaning, and Marcus’s knees do buckle slightly as he sags against you with a broken groan.

"Every fucking night," he growls, "I pictured how you would look spread out on this bed. You'll forgive me for indulging that, now."

"Tell me," you parrot coquettishly, staring up at him coyly from behind your lashes.

Another low sound emanates from deep within Marcus's chest at your command. Spinning you around so fast you nearly lose your sense of direction, he pulls you further into the room and deposits you on the bed before crawling over you. 

"Tell you, huh? Tell you what? How I would close my eyes and think about the sounds you'd make for me? Or about how I'd get so worked up imagining the way you'd taste, the way you'd look coming undone beneath me that I'd have to fist my cock just for a little relief?"

"I wanna see that," you say lazily, licking your lips and making a show of pulling your shirt over your head. 

"Next time," Marcus promises darkly. “Next time I'll do it just like this, with you staring up at me, watching me fuck myself for you. But I don't think I can go one more night without being inside you."

"Please," you whisper, staring up at him with wide eyes. 

"Yeah?"

"Fucking… yes, Marcus, shit–"

He chuckles, straight, white teeth showing as he grins and starts to unbutton your pants. You let him draw them down your hips, along with your underwear, your breath getting shakier as you see the hungry look in his eyes. It makes you feel powerful, the way just the sight of your bare center seems to affect him. 

When your pants reach your ankles, he yanks them off the rest of the way and casts them aside in the corner of the room. His gaze is almost predatory, but you get the feeling you are the one who has him under your thumb at the moment. Giving him a sly, crooked smile, you spread your legs wide.

Marcus pitches forward onto his elbows, dropping down onto the bed as if deep in prayer, but everything about the man in this moment is sinful. With his mouth inches from your pussy, he breathes in, closing his eyes and shuddering visibly. When he opens then again, they're deep obsidian. They don't move from your face as he lowers his mouth to you.

You aren't sure who moans louder at the first generous lick of his tongue into your pussy. Rather than start at your clit, he dives in; thrusting the wet, warm muscle as deep into your cunt as he can while his nose presses deliciously against you. 

He devours you greedily, licking up into you as if he could pull pleasure out of your channel with just his tongue. He seems to be getting almost as much satisfaction out of doing it; his eyes are closed as if savoring you, low, muffled moans from deep in his throat punctuate every lap into your pussy, and every so often, his hips thrust slightly against the bed as though he can't help but seek a little relief.

His hands scrabble at your hips, yanking you closer as soon as he can find purchase, and you throw your head back on the pillow as he buries himself even deeper than before.

Christ, how is he even breathing?

His nose rubs back and forth against your clit, and you can feel your orgasm starting to build. Growing bolder, you rock your hips subtly against Marcus's face, and by the loud groan that escapes him when he feels you do it, he enjoys it.

He pulls at your hips again, wordlessly commanding you to continue. 

"Fuck," you murmur. "Marcus, your mouth–"

You slowly grind on him, gyrating your hips as you chase the sensations that feel best for you. It causes everything to pull up tight, and before you even realize what's happening, you're falling apart on his tongue.

"Have to have you," Marcus pants in your ear, having surged up to cover you with his body even as you were still trembling with aftershocks. "Tell me I can have you."

"Yeah," you agree. "Fuck, take it. It's yours." Make me forget.

"Condom?" 

"Clean. You?"

"Clean. You–You sure? Tell me now, because I don't think I can wait any longer."

"Please," you whisper, reaching up to gently wipe away some of the slick above his upper lip with an amused smile. He looks wrecked already–the only time you've seen him with a hair out of place–and it's incredibly endearing. 

You don't have time to dwell on that thought, because with a broken sound, he sheathes himself within you. 

The noise that escapes you is involuntary–an instinctual, guttural reaction from somewhere deep in your subconscious brain. You can feel Marcus everywhere at once, pressing against nerves deep inside of you, nerves you didn't even realize you had. 

Anyone would be forgiven for expecting sex with this clean-shaven, softspoken man to be just as gentle and sweet as the man himself. You would have thought the same thing, except for one feature of his that always made you feel as though something darker was lurking underneath: that smile. Wide, toothy, eager; the rows of straight, white teeth; the boyish little dimple it exposes.

It's his eyes when he smiles like that that have always made you wonder what he's hiding; what demons are being concealed behind pearly whites and laugh lines.

But you think the way Marcus fucks might expose far more than anything else about him. 

The fire that dances in his eyes has certainly hinted at a deeper passion, but you've yet to experience anything like the way it feels to be on the receiving end of this much intensity. 

He's unrelenting in his pursuit of pleasure; fervent and raw and so very physical. He doesn't shy away from the messiness of sex; he licks an escaped tear as you reach your second peak, he spits on your clit and rubs it in with his fingers, and when he finally pulls out and finishes on your chest, he immediately covers you with his mouth and sucks himself off of your nipples.

You'd also be forgiven in thinking Marcus was done with you. That, given the late hour and the vigorous, explosive way he had fucked you, he'd collapse on the bed with a tired, sated sigh.

Instead, he pulls at your hip and guides you to turn over on your stomach. You're about to open your mouth and question his motives when you feel his hot, wet tongue press against your other hole.

You squeal involuntarily, burying your face in the pillows as you surrender to the onslaught of Marcus’s attentions. In this, just as in every other way he's already had you tonight, he's incredibly vocal. He straightens his tongue and pushes it inside, and moans loudly as he feels you give way for him.

"Good girl, so fuckin' good, gonna make me hard again, aren't you? Mewling so prettily into the sheets like that while I take you apart. You like that, don't you? Filthy fucking girl, huh? Good. I am, too–told you we were made to do this."

Marcus is merciless, giving you his tongue, fingers, tongue again, over and over and over in your pussy and your ass until you come undone again with a wail. 

You're boneless and pliable as he hauls your trembling body up onto your knees and enters you again, this time from behind. 

He's equal parts brutal and reassuring: ample, generous praise spills from his lips with every rough punch of his cock. 

You're so overwrought with pleasure, you can't even speak. Marcus is destroying you in every delicious way, and you aren't sure how you're supposed to come back from this. How you're supposed to confront him after he's made you feel things you didn't even know how could feel.

His lower hands are pressing down on your lower back, intensifying the arch in your spine and causing his cock to hit the perfect spot inside you.

"Gonna–" you gasp.

"I know," Marcus answers. "Together, this time. With me, yeah? I'm so close, but I'm waiting on you. Cum for me, let me feel it baby."

You sob into the pillows as he fucks you through your orgasm, your walls aching and ultrasensitive from the relentless onslaught of his cock. 

You're only barely aware of him pulling out and letting you collapse forward onto the bed. You aren't sure why it surprises you–perhaps just the intensity of the moment before–but you aren't expecting the warm, gentle arms encircling you as Marcus follows you down and wraps you up, pulling you into his chest. 

You're still panting, trying to catch your breath and regain equilibrium as you hear his voice behind you. It's not rough and rasping like before, but soft and soothing as he croons into your ear.

"So good for me, so perfect. Took me so well, look so good in my bed. Incredible.”

Giddy and overwhelmed, you start to laugh breathlessly.

Marcus chuckles too, nuzzling the spot behind your ear with his nose with a satisfied hum. His fingers start to trace a path up and down your stomach, and you sigh bonelessly and settle against him.

"This… this wasn't what I came here for," you murmur after a few moments.

"No?" Marcus nips playfully at your jawline just below your ear.

"No, I… I…"

The teasing kisses continue, causing sparks to shoot up and down your spine.

"Marcus," you sigh, as you feel another little nibble on your neck. "Marcus. Stop."

Slowly, cautiously, he pulls back. You turn in his arms, frowning slightly.

"I came here… Jesus, this sounds–I need you to convince me I'm just being jumpy. That I've been spooked, scared of my own shadow…"

“You’re under a lot of stress,” Marcus says gently. “You’ve had a hard week.”

You scoff. “Hard week? I’ve had hard weeks. This week was devastating. I’ve seen more deaths in one week than in almost my entire time on the force, and–” you swallow and look up, meeting his dark eyes, “–they’re all connected to me.”

“It’s not your fault,” he whispers. “They were bad men, and they all had their vices…”

“Every single one,” you forge ahead, “was connected to a case assigned to me. But that’s not the only connection, is it?”

Marcus cocks his head to the side, not dissimilar to a confused puppy. “What do you mean?”

“They were all connected to cases that keep me up at night. Cases that didn’t end in justice. Cases that I confessed… to you.”

Confusion melts away into an easy, casual smile. Marcus chuckles softly. “I thought you said you didn’t remember anything we talked about that night.”

“Details might be blurry, but it’s the only thing that makes sense,” you say, laying back to stare at the ceiling. “I was upset over Bobby. I was disillusioned with the job. You were all too eager to lend an ear, to let me drown my sorrows and whisper the names of the men whose faces I’ll never forget. I cried on your shoulder, Marcus. And you… you took those names, and—”

“Are you saying you’re accusing me of being some kind of one-man vigilante justice machine?” Marcus asks, beginning to laugh outright. “Cricket, do you have any idea how that sounds?”

“It sounds crazy," you say, turning toward him again. "So convince me otherwise. Tell me I've lost my fucking marbles on this one."

"I think it would be natural for anyone to look for some kind of reason behind a string of deaths of people they know," he offers gently. "And these men, they've… they've affected you more than most–let's not mince words, you were traumatized by these cases. It's only natural that you would look for answ–"

"Answers?" you interrupt. "My job is to find answers, you should know that. I've been researching you on your own website, what do you have to say about that? I know where you've been for other cases."

Marcus chuckles, although it seems… deeper, this time. "That's publicly available information on the government's own servers. I'm not sure what your point is."

"I also looked up all the newspapers from the times you would have been there," you say. "And just like in Hannibal, there's a rash of suicides and accidental deaths, and all of the victims? They all had rap sheets miles long."

"Cricket," Marcus intones softly. "I know you're desperately trying to find connections here, but you have to realize these all sound like huge coincidences–"

"You got sloppy," you accuse, picking up steam and confidence as you continue to talk through it. "Did you know that? Johansson's death was no accident. He was held down and given a fatal dose. It was rough; whoever did it wanted it to hurt–"

"Stop." Marcus cuts you off, his voice harsher than you've ever heard it. "You're grasping at straws. You're under a ton of stress, and you've concocted a wild fantasy to cope. It's a good story, but that's all it is. The things you're accusing me of, the person you've made me out to be… it's not rational, and it's dangerous. I'm an agent with the US Government, and you're throwing around some pretty serious allegations."

"I know what I've seen…" you murmur, shaking your head.

"You haven't seen anything," Marcus insists. "I'm not sure what your game is here. You come to my hotel room in the middle of the night saying you want to talk, you come onto me, we have sex… and now you're telling me you think I'm, what? A serial killer?"

"I–I think I should leave," you say quietly, getting up from the bed and padding over to pick up your uniform–where your gun is still holstered in your belt. You grab the pile of clothes and retreat to the bathroom to breathe and regroup. You splash cold water on your face, trying to ignore the fact that your hands are trembling slightly. 

Get it together. 

The pull you've felt for the man all week doesn't matter. Put it aside. Do the job. 

You take a few more deep breaths, then pull on your clothes. With a set jaw, you unholster your gun and slowly open the bathroom door.

"Marcus Pike, you're–"

You freeze mid-sentence, staring at the now-empty room.

"...gone?"

Epilogue (1 year later)

“I know it’s not much, but–”

“It’s perfect,” you breathe, walking into the small office, carrying a paper box full of your belongings, all waiting for a home among the bookshelves and desk space.

“Sure,” the other agent laughs.

It might not have a window. It might not have much charm. But it has a door–a real door that closes and everything–and even more importantly, it bears your name on a plaque.

A real office.

Yours. 

“You’re coming to us from… Saint Paul?”

“Saint Louis,” you correct amicably. 

“Welcome to White Collar Crimes,” your new coworker says with a wan smile. “It’s like Organized Crime, except instead of bodies, you’re examining accounting spreadsheets.”

“Good,” you say emphatically. “I’ve had enough death for several lifetimes.”

The other agent makes a face. “What the fuck was going on in Saint Louis?”

You huff a laugh through your nose. “You don’t wanna know.”

You set the box down, taking out some of your most prized possessions: A Mark Twain bobblehead, your Bachelor’s Degree in Criminology from the University of Missouri, and more recently, a certificate from Quantico labeling you as a Special Agent with the FBI.

It had taken most of the year to coordinate your exodus from the tiny town of Hannibal where you grew up. Sure, you could have simply gone to another city to be a cop, but the endless parade of speeding tickets, accidental overdoses, and orders to break up tent cities was wearing on you. Were you really making a difference where you were? 

No.

No.

You wanted to go after the real criminals. Those who swindled the vulnerable out of their hard-earned money. Those who gamed the stock market only to make a few million more than they already had. 

White collar crime.

“Well, welcome to D.C.,” the other agent says, his tone tongue-in-cheek, but your smile is genuine nonetheless. He leaves you to your task–setting up the tiny, cramped space that serves as your office. 

You unpack a box of your favorite pens, your stapler, a potted plant (fake) to add some greenery. Maybe when you get an office with a window, you can get some real plants, you think as you rearrange your notebooks on the small bookshelf beside your desk.

You glance down at the badge on your lapel and smile.

It had been a year since your strange run-in with the Art Crimes Agent that changed the course of your career. 

After Marcus Pike fled the scene of his own hotel room–leaving most of his belongings behind–you couldn’t find it in yourself to continue down the road of being a small-town police officer, handing out tickets and misdemeanors and investigating every tragic case that came across your desk. And they were all tragic, make no mistake. 

After a few months of being angry and indignant, you’d grown to respect Marcus Pike. You’d realized he was telling the truth all those months ago: he’d felt useless as an Agent, cutting through all the red tape and bureaucracy, and he’d simply taken matters into his own hands in the end.

He used his connections within law enforcement to gain access to the world’s undesirables: the violent, the unhinged, the maladapted, the unacclimated. 

The bad men who had gotten light sentences or slaps on the wrist when they should have been removed from polite society for the gain of humanity.

Compared to you–fighting through the red tape of Government at every turn–Marcus was unstoppable. You guess that’s why so many people like to read about comic book heroes who spend their time doling out vigilante justice. Fighting for prolonged sentences within the criminal justice system was one thing. Living by your own creed of law and order? That was another.

Marcus simply… went around the law.

Did the ends justify the means?

That was a question that kept you up for months on end–that still causes you to shoot up in bed, panting and sweating, fighting off the remnants of a nightmare.

Even now, you aren’t sure of the answer.

That, on top of the real job opportunities that the FBI awarded you, is what really brought you here.

Marcus Pike… is a murderer.

You’re here to keep an eye on him.

Putting aside your… more personal connections, the man is dangerous. After all, you have no way of substantiating that his moral code, the way he kills for his own perceived sense of good, will always match the general sense of human morality. Is Marcus the type of man who would take a personal slight and warp it into his own twisted sense of justice? Would ever kill to satisfy his own grievances? Would he ever simply kill for the sake of it? You have no way of knowing.

A soft tap on your office door interrupts your reverie.

“Got a briefing on the Waters case in five. I’m assuming you read the file I emailed over?” 

At your nod, the other agent continues. “It’s in conference room 2E63. Since this place is a bit of a labyrinth, thought we could walk there together.”

“Appreciate it,” you say cheerfully, snapping your laptop shut and grabbing your notebook. 

Time to work.

“Got any questions for me before the meeting?” your coworker asks as you navigate through the halls.

“Are other departments involved in this case?” you ask. “There’s the embezzling scheme, stock fraud, that’s obviously us. But what about some of the company’s other operations? The file mentioned something about illegal smuggling and money laundering, surely that’s–”

“Organized Crime, yup. We’ve got two representatives from that team, they’ve been heavily involved. It was recently discovered that some of the goods smuggled were uh, famous paintings or something? So we’ve recently added someone from—This is us, by the way.”

Your coworker opens the conference room door, and across the room, a familiar set of deep brown eyes flicks up in surprise.

“Anyway, yeah, we also recently added someone from Art Crimes to assist in the recovery of the, uh–” your coworker trails off, turning to the only other agent in the room that you happen to know, apparently hoping for him to complete the sentence.

He doesn’t. Agent Marcus Pike is still staring at you, lips parted, his face white as a sheet. Fear lurks in his wide eyes.

When he blinks, though, the mask suddenly drops back down over his expression, his agitation replaced with cool confidence.

“Cézanne,” he answers patiently. To you, he extends his hand. “I haven’t seen you around here,” he says carefully. 

To anyone listening, the words are straightforward, said by a stranger, but you catch the hidden, underlying message. I’ve seen you before, but in a different world. You are out of context. 

“Just started today,” you comment lightly before giving him your name, taking his hand, and shaking it firmly. Very firmly. Marcus blinks. You see a flash of that wild intensity that you know lurks beneath his unassuming exterior.

When he smiles, you take in the rows of perfectly straight, white teeth and his singular dimple. 

A warning. Or a promise.

“I look forward to working with you.”

[michimonie]

I don't know, maybe it seemed to me, but for some reason Scrooge McDuck interacts with Daisy even better than with Donald sometimes... In old and modern stories, there are many examples of their friendship, and even confrontation, because of many things, such as Donald. Maybe McDuck sees something yours in her?

I can see that. There have been quite a few times where, for some reason or another, Daisy either has to prove herself or just accidentally does something amazing. A comic I was reading again recently was Uncle Scrooge IDW #39, where Daisy basically takes Donald's place in the adventure.

One part of that might come from the fact that (and people can totally correct me if I'm wrong) a lot of what Donald does goes unseen (PK, Double Duck, etc...) and the stuff that Scrooge does end up seeing isn't a lot compared to how much he thinks his nephew is "lazing around."

In contrast, (from what I've seen) Daisy, tends to have a more "go-getter" attitude, and often encounters Scrooge either through work or while planning something. She tends to have something going on or a goal in mind.

For a visual example, here's a possible idea of what Scrooge sees:

Graphs showing Scrooge thinking of Daisy as someone who works a lot, and Donald as someone who rests often.

Meanwhile, the reality is probably more like this:

Graphs now showing Family, Other (superhero, spy, hobbies, etc...), Work, and Rest. A more balanced schedule than before.

Definitely take my little doodle graphs with a metaphorical grain a salt, but I can see this being a big problem.

There are comics I wanted to mention, but couldn't find. They also showcase skills he probably sees often in Daisy:

One comic with Daisy chasing Scrooge across the globe, finding him no matter where he went and saving him from trouble, all so she could have the right to write his biography.

Another story featured scrooge going missing for a day so Daisy took over. When he was found in a chute and rescued, he saw what "terrible" decisions she had made, only to find moments later (through her added thoughts) that the decisions were making him more cash than ever. He was so impressed that he decided to keep her close (for fear that she might take his job someday!)

(If someone knows where to find these, or the titles, feel free to comment or reblog them!)

Whether Donald can do these things or not, he doesn't really have any reason or desire, so Scrooge never sees it happen.

I would also like to add that, while Donald is highly capable, it seems like he complains a lot more than Daisy, which could (unfortunately) give off a more "unwilling" or "lazy" feeling/vibe. For instance, the comic in the beginning of this post has Daisy in a whole adventure and I believe she doesn't complain even once (sassy, sure, but no complaints). In fact, she spends a good amount of that adventure excited.

Sorry for the longer answer! There's a lot to be said about this subject, and this is probably as much as I can add. If anyone else has thoughts or related comics to add, feel free to add to this. (I'm still pretty new to Disney Ducks)

[bisnes-socks]

The Big Finnish Music Project for International Kääryleet, part 1.

When I was writing this analysis about Menestynyt yksilö, I started thinking a lot about Finnish music, about the influences in Käärijä's music, and about the music he would have grown up hearing and being aware of. He references music and artists a lot, and Finnish music has its own peculiarities that I think influence and affect us all, whether we realise it or not. 

So, I made a list of noteworthy Finnish artists and songs. And I put it under a read more because it's long as fuck and I don't want to force people to scroll through it lol.

NOTE: Because of the Tumblr limit on the amount of videos in one post, this project has 6 parts + a bonus part, so 7 parts in total. I will always put the part number in every post title.

I know there's a list somewhere, Finnish fans recommending other Finnish artists to international kääryleet, but I tried my best to make this not so much based on my own taste and recommendations, and more based on which artists and songs have had a significant impact in the world of music in Finland, and have thus had a lot of influence on Finnish music and people in general. With that being said, not all of these artists are like generally agreed upon as "significant" beyond a hit or two, but I do think all of these artists are great reflections of what was going on in the world of Finnish music at any specific time, and that’s what I also wanted to highlight.

Some of these artists or songs have a direct connection to Käärijä, I've marked them with red, if you want to focus on finding them. With some of the others, I’ve deliberately tried to find connections to things I've talked about in previous Käärijä analysis posts as being something culturally very Finnish, to further highlight what I mean by that and how Käärijä relates to the broader scene of Finnish music.

DISCLAIMER: This list is quite heavy on the early 2000's compared to other eras. The reasons for that are: personally I think that the early 2000's are the most relevant time for a kääryle, as his music has the most influence from that time in my opinion. Which makes sense, he (and the other guys involved in making Käärijä music) would have been at that age where you begin to discover your personal favourites etc. The late 90's and early 2000's were also just a significant time in Finnish music - you'll find multiple artists from that era on this list referred to as "one of the most successful of all time", both domestically and internationally.

Also I'm sorry I know very little about popular Finnish music right now, like 2020's Finnish music, but guys… I get the feeling he doesn't know much either, so does it matter too much lmao.

Also the list is by no means exhaustive, so any other Finns feel free to add stuff in notes or reblogs!

Okay, let’s get to the list! In (mostly) chronological order, going all the way back to the late 60’s.

--

Kirka 

Started his career in music in the late 1960's. Passed away in 2007. One of the most significant names in Finnish iskelmä and rock music, did a metal phase in the late 1980’s as one of the first in Finland to do so. Definitely a household name and still active in the 2000’s before his death as well, so someone any millennial grew up being aware of for sure. Represented Finland in Eurovision in 1984 with the song Hengaillaan. 

This is his first huge hit, Hetki lyö, originally from 1967. This live performance is from 2001.

Hector

A huge name in Finnish rock music, Hector is also known for a folk music vibe. Started his career in the 60’s and is just one of those household names and he is still active. I’ve linked the song Lumi teki enkelin eteiseen, which is an all time classic that I know at least millennials and every generation before them of course knows and can sing. A melancholic song about very depressing subjects, like depression (both mental and economical), suicide, family issues etc. Life in Finland was not rosy in the 70’s, there was still a big wave of Finnish people leaving for Sweden and America in search of jobs and a better life, and this song touches on a lot of the reasons why.

The song is originally from 1973, but here’s a video of Hector performing the song to 36 000 people at the Olympic Stadium as part of the Mestarit tour in 1999. Mestarit was made up of Hector, Kirka, Pave Maijanen and Pepe Willberg, all huge names in Finnish music and their tour and album together were huge cultural moments in Finland.

Danny

Mentioned in Sex = Money. Danny also started in the 60's and was a massive, massive star all through the 70's. He is still active. He was considered as the "Finnish Elvis", not because of similarities in music necessarily but the popularity. He also started wearing a very Elvis looking jumpsuit at some point in the 70's. Danny has also been in the spotlight for his personal relationships a lot. This is his hit, Kesäkatu, also referenced in Sex = Money.

Katri Helena

Queen of iskelmä. Started her career in the 70's, still going strong. She's about the least controversial artist you can find, just so loved all across the country. She's also considered to be a very "Finnish voice". This is one of her biggest hits, Katson sineen taivaan, and this is her representing Finland in Eurovision in 1979.

Vesa-Matti Loiri

Jere's idol. A legendary stage and film actor, comedy performer and a singer. Passed away in 2022. Started his career in the 70's. He is one of those names everyone knows, and almost every generation has something nostalgic they connect to him. This song, Naurava kulkuri, is loosely referenced in Menestynyt yksilö. It's a comedy song that he performs as a character, Jean-Pierre Kusela.

Hyvää puuta is by Vesa-Matti Loiri that became a meme for whatever reason. Referenced by Joost Klein and Jere at Ruisrock.

Juice Leskinen

Considered the father of suomirock. Started his career in music in the 70's, but his influence carries on to this day. I can't think of a more influential name in the world of Finnish pop and rock music. He is considered one of the best lyricists in Finnish music. He wrote both quite dark and quite humourous songs - something I’ve mentioned before as being quite a Finnish thing. One of his most famous songs is Sika, a Christmas song about a pig being slaughtered for Christmas dinner.

I decided to link what I think is probably his most famous song, Syksyn sävel, from 1976.

Quite the example of melancholic Finnish music, as the second line in the song goes “elämä on kuolemista” meaning “(living) life is (about) dying”.

Maarit Hurmerinta

Before we had Käärijä, King of Vantaa, we had Maarit, the Queen of Vantaa. She's an iconic singer some of you might also recognise from the Finnish Beatles Tribute t-shirt Bojan keeps wearing lmao. Her daughter Janna is also a well known and popular singer, you might have seen her in the photos posted when Mikke and Jere went to see Adele. Anyway, this is Maarit’s massive hit Jäätelökesä, originally from 1978, but this live performance must be sometime in the 90's, I think.

Eppu Normaali

Eppu Normaali started out as a punk band in the 70's but mellowed out into a more poprock type direction as time went on. They are also considered part of the Manserock scene of Tampere. They are quite an influential, popular and significant band in the world of Finnish rock, one of those bands everyone knows. This song, Murheellisten laulujen maa, is basically about the generational trauma of being raised a man in a country as emotionally constipated as Finland, and how it drives people to alcohol and violence. This song is originally from 1982, the live performance is from 2010.

Kikka

The foremother of the soft porn vibe later mastered by the likes of Käärijä, Antti Tuisku and Erika Vikman. Her songs were quite naughty and her career in music revolved around entertainment and playfully sexual vibes. She was a huge star in the 1980's but badly mistreated by the media, and unfortunately had a very difficult personal life. She passed away in 2005.

End of part one! We've only reached the 80's, but as you can see, there are already several artists on the list that have a direct connection or are a direct influence on Käärijä/Jere. Everyone on this list so far is a household name, and honestly artists that could be referenced in a Käärijä song any given day.

Part 2 introduces lots of 80's rock from Finland.

[shefanispeculator]

I saw this on ATRL!

1. "Somebody Else's": We all know this song and it is definitely a great one! It feels like a proper album opener and the lyrics are pretty solid. 8/10

2. "Bouquet": Well, well, the title track. It features an overarching theme of growth using lyrics like "Clouds are like miracles / Appearin' overhead, but raining when you need some peace" and "You go on pickin' the petals and I'll just smile". Basically it's about coming with terms the fact is that you might not need someone to make you happy and it's better if you go your separate ways becuase she doesn't need a bouquet. Sonically, it's similar to "Somebody Else's" but features more prominent bass. 7.5/10

3. "Pretty": Whew!!! The lyrics on this one are a DAMN SERVE!! "Memories are sentimental 'cause we're not who we used to be / Sometimes you lose, sometimes you weep as it creeps / Through the backyards on common ground, we do not stand / Oh my, there is coincidence and then there is circumstance". It has a certain groove to it but it also sounds kinda dark and myserteous (?)! This is for sure one of my favorites on the record. 9.5/10

4. "Empty Vase": Mmm... I understand the concept, but like, I find this song to be a bit boring, truth be told. It's entirely built off of acoustic guitar—which is fine—but it sort of goes nowhere. Also, the outro will definitely catch you off guard the first time because she starts whispering and it's very intimate. 7/10

5. "Marigolds": Okay, VOCALS!!!! She is singing her a*s off here, especially in the final chorus. "Watch me die a little bit each time I come alive". This could have used a bridge but it's one of the tracks that stands out sonically. It's almost reggae but also kind of punk-ish at the same time. 8/10

6. "Late To Bloom": I truly appreciate Gwen diving into the subject matters she does on the song. It's basically about it being too late to realize what you had and/or being emotionally mature enough to fully appreciate someone, but they're already gone. "Maybe I'll see you in the next lifetime, maybe I won't / But first a little pit stop to catch a few rays of sunshine / I say see you at noon, but I'm always late to bloom". The production here is very Rock Steady No Doubt vibes. A highlight! 9/10

7. "Swallow My Tears": So, she posted a snippet of this on her social media and I honestly think she's kinda deceiving y'all. The song builds throughout, and at the final chorus, there's a "drop" with full on production that's comparable to "Guilty as Sin?" by Taylor Swift. It is a bit repetitive, but the bridge is one of the best moments on the album; she kind of sounds chaotic, but like panicked too, and it works ssooo well. 8.5/10

8. "Reminders": For sure, this is the most sentimental song on the album. It's got this early 2000's acoustic pop ballad vibe to it (think Nelly Furtado or even "Don't Speak" by No Doubt themselves). "I saved you a seat / Just like how you gave my heart a beat". 8/10

9. "All Your Fault": Well, if you like "Naughty" from This Is What the Truth Feels Like, you'll enjoy this. It has a very similar vocal style and even some quirky-ish lyrics. I am surprised Diane Warren wrote this one by herself because there are most definitely some signature Stefani lines in here like "Was pretty sure I ran out of power / But you got me lit every single hour" and "And I'll never be the same / Won't catch me taking the blame / Ahhh, it's all your fault!". Overall, I think this is a fun track but it's placement on the album is odd. 7.5/10

10. "Purple Irises" (featuring Blake Shelton): I suppose this works as a closer, but it feels a bit like an afterthought.... Truly, the song itself is fine but I believe it's supposed to make you feel nostalgic and I just feel relief (?). Maybe that's just me, who knows. 7.5/10

As a whole, I believe Bouquet is a pretty strong body of work by Gwen Stefani. It's a confident, self-assured put together collection of 10 nice tracks. I know I'm in the minority here but I still believe This Is What the Truth Feels Like is her strongest album to-date. But for those looking for something completely different, Bouquet is for you, bar elements of "All Your Fault". This album feels like it will age really well over time and I hope we get another No Doubt album in the feature because this is absolutely the closest we have gotten to one as a solo Gwen project.

[velvetvexations]

That sounds a lot like my interpretation of Boys Will Be Bugs~!

I bent over backwards and crafted an elaborate theory as to why Eminem's Abracadabra isn't too terribly transphobic, I can't judge anyone for making excuses for the media that's important to them.

I don't think characters just being heroic and sympathetic necessarily covers getting something like this badly wrong, but a lot of other Velveteers also chimed in, including this anon:

(Just realized this is pretty silly, feel free to ignore me/not answer this, I just saw One Piece mentioned and the hyperfixation jumped out.) But just to go to bat for One Piece a smidge as someone who is trans and read all of it, while yeah Okama(Queen Ivan) leaned very transmisognistc(which was made worse in the anime for some reason??) the intention for him, his subjects, and the other gender fluid character, Bon Clay, was meant to be good. It fell HELLA short, but there was an attempt at least. However!! I did want to add, the comic has been going on for a long time, and by one of the more recent arcs with two new, very clearly openly trans characters, things are MUCH better! The transfem one, Kiku, says outright when asked that she's a woman at heart which is accepted by everyone, and her story was really sweet and made me tear up(her anger is never treated as predatory or masculine, she's allowed to just be a woman who is also a samurai), and the other transmasc one, Yamato, is referred to as a boy by everyone despite him not changing his presentation at all, which is pretty rad imo given how hostile people can be to transmasc people with breasts, and both characters are allowed to bathe in the baths that match their genders at the end of the arc. They were still a little messy in the "yeah this wasn't written by a trans person" way, and certain misogynistic/transphobic parts of of the fandom on reddit get a little weird about Yamato, but I didn't see anything glaringly wrong with the way either of them was written like with Okama or Bon Clay. The vibe I got from the comic was that early on Oda meant well and included some characters who were intended to be positive rep but were messy and fell very short, but as time passed he figured it out and the more recent ones are genuinely phenomenal rep. Ofc that doesn't mean you need to read/watch OP(especially since again the transmisogny is worse in the anime?? still don't understand what happened there but Oda had no control over it) like god I would never tell anyone to do that lol, but I did want to just chime in and offer a perspective from someone who read it and felt like the more recent rep was really good and worth mentioning. Oda has his issues for sure, and has a lot to make up for, but based on what I've read he IS making up for it.

And, honestly, that makes me really happy! Oda always seemed like a cool guy and it's great to know he is in fact a real cool guy. According to @changelingfangs in the replies, he's friends with people in the subculture he based a lot of those characters on.

They're now just openly accusing me of not being a trans woman because trans women don't identify as AMAB and I'm apparently hostile to every trans woman that talks about transmisogyny.

...no?

It's a good theory and I think that plays a part in it for sure, but I think mostly it's just thinking it's the worse thing because it's their group's oppression. It again kinna goes back to that Lennon/Ono song with the n-word in the title, that's just how radical feminism works, trans/misogyny is the only thing that really matters.

Still, interesting thread to have spotted here and I think it's in that soup somewhere.

imagine thinking using a meme format is asserting a cultural claim to it

like seriously, has any Black person ever said that there was something wrong with "deracializing" either or even both characters in the Dis _ Look So Mad meme by substituting them with white characters?

[twst-creations]

Mouse boy that we should've posted ages ago!!!

A respectable and honorable mouse-beastman, an heir to a noble dynasty of generals. Mink is in Riddle's good graces because of his discipline, honest attempts at following all the Queen of Hearts' rules and ability to stop conflicts. He's often calming down some rowdy students, although he's only a first year. Despite his young age and small stature, Mink knows his worth and does not tolerate disrespect, even snapping back at any offender. "Small but feisty" - that's him.

Name: Minkönlucius "Mink" Schold (pronounced [shold])

Twisted from: Mouserinks, aka Mouse King [Nutcracker and the Four Realms ]

Gender: Male

Age: 16

Height: 159 cm

Homeland: United Domains

Year: 1st

Dorm: Heartslabyul

Club: Athletics

Favourite Subject: Defense Magic

╔═══°∴,*⋅✲══〖Additional Info.〗══✲⋅*,∴°═══╗

Orientation: ??? (undecided) Hobby: Origami Likes: Classical music, bright colours, shiny trinkets Dislikes: Egoists, rudeness Favourite Food: Hazelnuts in sugar Hated Food: Anything minty Specialty: Stealth - can be quiet and nimble

Personality

Upon meeting, Mink immediately gives off a princely vibe: his back is straight, his step is measured, he's polite and gentlemanly in every way. That is, unless you try to insult or disrespect him (which happens a lot to a guy like him at NRC). But even when snapping back at you, he will do it in the most respectable-sounding way, which will make his insult sound even more precise.

Mink was raised in a noble family, so he received extensive training in many fields where he was expected to be successful: battle training and fencing (more of a tradition for a family of generals than actual necessity), ballroom dancing, music and literature knowledge, etiquette. He wasn't pushed beyond his limits, and the only thing forcing him was, perhaps, the expectations that came with his name. Mink is still certain that he must be constantly proving to be deserving of his title, which is why he's jumping at every opportunity to help someone. It's not like he doesn't enjoy doing it - he does, which makes him even more of a "perfect prince" type - but duty is also a part of it.

Whenever Mink attends a ball, girls his age seem to flock to him, enchanted by his nobleman charm (and confusing him for actual royalty, ahaha!), and he's either not noticing it or is just treating the ladies fairly, not prioritizing or choosing any one of them.

UM: Mauskeiser - Allows the user to turn into a big swarm of mice that all have a hivemind. The mice can run around separately.

Fun Facts 🐭👑

• Mink's Unique Magic required a strong focus, which he trained and developed. Yes, it's almost like his consciousness being split into a hundred, but he usually keeps several "troops" on the same goal so as to lift the load for himself. • His last name is derived from a russian name for Mouserinks, "Myshold", which came from the russian name of the Mouse King's mother. • His family line is supposed to serve royals, but each heir grows up and chooses which of the four royals of the United Domains to serve. This is because, traditionally, noblemen were close friends and allies of the royals, so the heirs first grow up together, getting to know each other and forging friendships, before making the decision. • Mink doesn't really like water, but he will swim if he has to. • He would even tease Leona, if given a reason to do so. Or any scary people for that matter. This mouse boy knows NO fear. • Mink doesn't like spicy food. The spiciest thing he ate were gingerbread cookies. • As a rodent beastman, Mink needs to take care of his teeth. He does so by eating some crunchy snacks between classes. • Despite having many skills, Mink is, embarrassingly, not very good at ice skating. He wants to get better at it though!