i would like everyone to know...i wrote it. i wrote the chapter with the summary in it. which was why i decided to upload early! :D to apologize !

follow my twitter for my reaction, ill follow yall back my user is arrowheadswp!

also, warning: sexual themes!

*

Rhysand spends Christmas and New Year with Andy and her dad at Parkway.

It's his first. Out of the orphanage, at least, and Andy wants to make it the best as she can.

And of course, as per tradition, it starts with decorating the house.

Rhysand comes down from the staircase in his shirt and sweatpants, blinking at the scene in front of him. The tree is already set up, and Andy hanged the socks against the TV console, and there are pretty lights strewn all over the living room. Andy is tiptoeing, decorating the tree with Christmas balls and other ornaments, and she turns when she hears Rhysand's feet pad across the floor. "Good morning, baby."

"Trey left for work?" he rasps quietly, voice still heavy with sleep.

"Yeah." She bites her lip and tiptoes again with a grunt, arm reaching high.

He hums and comes up behind her, wraps his cold hands around her waist. His head drops on her shoulder, and his hair tickles Andy's skin. "Thank God," he mumbles.

"Hang this for me," Andy demands, shoving the ornament into his hands. "I'm too short."

Rhysand snickers. He leans forward and hangs it with no difficulty. "What else, munchkin?"

"I'm not a munchkin," she grumbles, bending down to pick up the star. "There, at the top, please."

Rhysand does as she says. "Why all the fuss?" he asks sleepily, shoving one hand inside his pockets. "I mean, we had decorations and shit, but that's because we were children. It's just you and Trey here. Why bother?"

"Because it's Christmas!" Andy grins brightly at him, twirls herself around with his arm. "And even though it's just me and my dad, having the house look like this makes it feel more alive, you know? It'd be boring and dull without the tree and the pretty lights. Besides, you're here now."

Rhysand looks at her, lips turning up at the corners. "You're excited."

She's always excited for Christmas, but having Rhysand with her and her dad makes it all the more thrilling and special. She tiptoes and presses a kiss on his cheek. "We need to go shopping."

He wrinkles his nose and follows her to the kitchen. "For gifts?"

"And for matching outfits and reindeer hats."

"Jesus." Rhysand huffs. "What if I don't want to match with you?"

"You can say bye to your eggnog and gingerbread cookies."

"I'm kidding, Christ," he mutters, taking a sip of his coffee. "What time are we leaving?"

Rhysand and her dad cook the meals for the Christmas Eve dinner while Andy bakes her pastries, and it's a loud mess in the kitchen, what with all the ingredients on the counters and the Christmas music blasting from the bluetooth speakers.

As promised, Andy and Rhysand match—they're both wearing red sweaters and black jeans, but Andy's is off shoulder, and it's tucked in her pants with a belt. Rhysand may have complained, but he's wearing the reindeer headband, too, and he looks adorable.

"You look ridiculous," her dad tells Rhysand. "You look cute, kiddo," he says to Andy with a wink.

Rhysand scowls. Andy laughs under her breath.

And Rhysand might not admit it, but they look cute together.

For the gifts, Trey gets a new pair of running shoes from Andy, to which he grew flustered for wanting a pair for so long, and kissed his daughter's head in gratitude. From Rhysand, he gets a brand new set of steak knives and an expensive foot massager.

Andy places her hand on Rhysand's knee. "It has a switchable heat function, Dad," she says with a nod. "Rhysand thought real hard about what you would like."

"Be quiet," her boyfriend tells her through his teeth, keeping the smile on his face. To Trey, he says, "For after your run. Or something."

"Thanks, kid," her dad says with a loud laugh. "I think I'll use this a lot."

Andy squeezes Rhysand's knee. His relief is evident in his posture, and he relaxes with a nod. "No problem."

Andy doesn't expect Rhysand to get her anything, but it's a surprise to know he has something for her, too. Unwrapping the first gift, she finds a brand new pair of airpods with a case in blush pink, her initials engraved in the leather. The second is a branded backpack in cream white.

"For school," he says at the incredulous look on her face. "And your OJT this semester."

"This makes me feel like I'm your sugar baby."

"Don't ever say that ever again," Rhysand snaps, rolling his eyes.

Andy laughs and kisses his cheek. "I love them, baby. Thank you. I'll give you yours later."

He raises an eyebrow. "You promised you weren't getting me anything."

She shushes him. "It's nothing I spent on, don't worry."

They play cards and sing karaoke, and drink eggnog and eat cookies, and Rhysand doesn't kiss Andy until they're in her room, and he tastes sweet and he's happy, smiling against her lips.

She prints out their picture that her dad took early in the evening, and she hunches over it on her desk and grabs a pen, protecting it with her body so that Rhysand doesn't see.

"I'm not looking, sunshine," he drawls from the bed.

Andy shushes him and writes at the back of the photo:

To my Rhysand,
Our first Christmas together :D I love you always, in all ways.
- your sunshine (or baby. or sanford). <3333

"This is my gift to you," she says softly. Andy turns around and hands him the picture.

There's already a smile on his face, even before he turns it over to read the short message. He pulls a fabric of Andy's sweater to him, and she falls on top of his body with a squeal. "You're cheesy as hell," he says, kissing her once. Twice.

"We look cute," she says, giggling, trying to cover her face with her hands, but Rhysand pulls her wrists down and kisses her cheeks. "Rhys, stop!"

"You were right about the reindeers," he mutters, crawling over her and tossing his own headband somewhere behind him. "And thank you," he says quietly, brushing her hair away from her face. "Never imagined I would be spending fuckin' Christmas with you and your dad."

"You're stuck with me now," she whispers, hooking her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, and Rhysand catches himself with his elbows, careful not to crush her with his weight. "So you have to help me put the star on the tree every year."

Rhysand stares at her and nods once. "I love you," he murmurs, pressing his forehead to hers, closing his eyes. "God, I love you. Thank you."

Andy whispers the words right back. Feels them settle deep in her heart, like kind snow—numb, falling.

*

They do it a lot.

More than a lot, actually. And it's Andy who doesn't want to leave the bed.

"You're insatiable," Rhysand breathes in her neck, sucking another love bite on her skin. She must be painted with them—covered and full of them. "Feels good, baby?"

Andy can only nod and whimper, fisting the sheets with one hand and raking down Rhysand's back with the other. Her eyes shut, and all she can feel and sense and hear and touch is Rhysand, and the pleasure he's giving her. "Rhys, Rhys—"

"Fuck." He inhales sharply and adjusts, pinning her hips to the bed, quickening his pace. "You're so fucking gorgeous, fuck—"

In bed, Andy learns that Rhysand has a filthy mouth, and that she loves it. She learns that she loves being praised, and that she loves seeing him come undone, that she loves it when Rhysand's hand curls against her throat, playing with her necklace—the only thing she's wearing—but doesn't push. She learns that she loves that he's careful even when filled with lust and want, that he puts her needs first over his own. She learns that she loves all the places Rhysand leaves a bite on, when he pushes her hips down, and when he interlaces their fingers beside her head even when he's deep inside her. They're still in the process of learning and exploring each other's bodies, but Andy loves every moment as long as it's with Rhysand.

"That's the third time today," he says, slumping against her, breathing heavily. "You're insatiable, Christ."

Her eyes are still closed, and her legs feel numb. "Did I do good?" she mumbles tiredly. The crush of Rhysand's body against hers feels good.

"Did so well, baby," he assures her softly, kissing her forehead. "Did so well for me. My perfect sunshine."

Andy smiles at him, and he goes to clean them up.

And the first time they switch positions, Rhysand seated on the bed, up against the headboard, and Andy on top of him, hesitant with her hands and movements and with everything that she almost cries and gives up, Rhysand soothes her, caresses her back slowly, and guides her. Praises her with his moans and words.

So they do it a lot—on the bed, on the couch in his studio, against the wall, in the shower—and Rhysand has had to buy condoms, and Andy has had to run to the spa to get waxed and to the mall to buy lingerie. Jenner clearly hears them sometimes but chooses not to say anything, and Andy, more than Rhysand, is grateful he keeps his mouth shut. She doesn't know what she'd do if he starts teasing them.

Andy turns over on her stomach and rests her head on Rhysand's chest. "You like leaving the necklace on," she says, tracing the tattoo on his wrist with her finger. "I noticed."

"I like fucking you knowing it's the only thing you're wearing."

"You're so crude," Andy mutters, blushing, although it's nothing compared to what he says during the act itself. She hides her face in his arm and asks, "What else do you like?"

"Too soon," he answers simply, brushing his hand down her back. "We don't have to rush, sunshine. We've got plenty of time."

Andy's curious, but she doesn't push him. She lifts herself up on her elbows and leans forward to kiss him slowly. Rhysand kisses her back. His hands travel down, from her waist to her thighs, and Andy whispers against his lips, "I have to meet my friends."

"I'm not the one who wants to stay," Rhysand says, asshole that he is, and dips his fingers against the dimples on her back. "I think you're becoming addicted to sex."

"To you," Andy corrects immediately, finding the willpower to push away from him before things could...escalate again. She stands and grabs a hoodie on the floor to cover herself. She walks towards his desk to look at the time on her phone, but the box in which Rhysand keeps his earrings catches her eye. Andy opens it with a grin and turns her head to look at the very sexy man on the bed. "Did I tell you I find your piercings very hot?"

"Once or twice," he drawls, half-smiling. "Why?"

They're mostly small hoops and studs, pairs that she's seen Rhysand wear on many different occasions. "I like these," she says, grabbing a pair of silver dangling earrings—they're small, titanium steel, two hoops with two pins and a chain attached to it. She raises one to her ear and smiles at the mirror. "Oh, it looks good."

"I can buy you something better than that," Rhysand says, shifting his body to face her. "More expensive. Crystal."

"I like these," she says again, widening her smile. "They're yours. Mind if I borrow these today?"

He scoffs. "As if you'd return them."

"Baby, you know me so well." She giggles and puts them on. "What do you think?" Andy twists around in her chair to show him.

"I'd fuck you while you wear them."

"Rhysand!"

"Gorgeous," he supplies, that smirk of his still on his lips. "Take a shower and leave. Else I'll keep you here."

Andy laughs out loud.

*

Because of her classes and OJT this semester, Andy decides to quit Baked! temporarily.

Her mentor is glad that she already has prior experience as a volunteer last summer, and Andy gets work rather immediately. Truthfully, it's a little hectic and the load is heavier than she expects—coupling it with her schoolwork and presentations and papers—but Andy can pull through. She knows she can, and she can complete her OJT for two months and also finish her third year with good grades.

Her big baby of a boyfriend just can't seem to grasp how busy Andy actually is.

She takes a look at her text notification when it buzzes on the desk, briefly steering her attention away from her laptop. What time are you going home

He's asked this four times in a row already. Andy bites her lip to keep from laughing. I told you babe as soon as I'm done with my five o'clock class :) In two hours!

The library is the quietest place in campus, and Andy has a socket of her own in the second floor, with the desk facing the wall. It's cold, but she brought a jacket, thankfully, and she's a little hungry and in need of coffee or hot chocolate, but food and drinks aren't allowed inside. Which is. Sad.

And because Rhysand is a constant distraction even without trying, Andy can't study with him around. Or get things done, actually. If she studied in her dorm, he'll come over and Andy will toss her books away in a second. Who needs education? Not her.

It's been busy. The semester is already all kinds of busy, and February just started.

Her phone buzzes with his reply, and Andy's face heats at the message. As soon as you get out of school, you're mine. I don't care if you have homework, I'm fucking the living daylights out of you

Blushing, Andy hides her phone under the desk. RHYSAND I am in the library!!!

He sends back a smiley face.

So Andy's busy. A lot. Doesn't stop Rhysand from following through with his promise.

And Andy doesn't mind—not when she's sprawled out underneath him, sweaty and delirious with pleasure, body numb and sore.

*

But Rhysand is busy, too.

Because of the album's huge success, he's been handed projects left and right. He says it's thrilling, to have to work on so many things, especially when he's been interviewed twice already (he was asked what his inspiration was for the lyrics in the songs, and he answered, bluntly, "My girlfriend", and he doesn't give any more information because he's worried about Andy, but Andy blushes and squeals when she reads it), but there's no doubt about the pressure. There are expectations of him, and he wants to exceed them.

It's not wrong, Andy thinks. It's not wrong, and it's his dream. Beyond his talent, he's hardworking and passionate, keen with details and incredibly introspective—Rhysand works tirelessly.

Most of the time, it's his health that suffers—cigarettes, lack of sleep, too much coffee and too little food.

Other times, it's Andy that does.

"You said you'd be done at six," she says, feeling her jaw twitch in irritation. It's not the first time Rhysand bailed on their date—the other times, Andy was as understanding as a partner can be. He called her to say, "Sunshine, I'm sorry, can we reschedule?" and Andy agreed, because it's fine, it's work, it's important and she gets it. She sees him when gets home, anyway, and they'll reschedule as planned.

But today is Kat's art exhibit. Andy said she wasn't going to make it because she and Rhysand already made plans. Her friend seemed disappointed, but assured her that it wasn't a big deal.

And Rhysand said he'd be done at six today.

"I know what I said," he answers with a sigh. "But I'm sorry, I can't leave yet. Can we reschedule, please?"

It's work. It's important. Andy swallows her irritation back and tries for a smile. "Okay. No worries, we can do that. Don't forget to eat, okay?"

"Yeah, thank you," he breathes out, relieved. "I'll make it up to you, baby. Bye."

"Bye." She hangs up.

Andy looks at herself in the mirror and decides to get changed, shooting Kat a quick text. I'll be there in a few, which building and what floor?

Her friend responds in a second. YAY! What happened w bf? Decker bldg, 3rd!

On my way!! :)

Kat is an extraordinary artist, and Andy is proud of her—Kat is one of the few selected students for this year's showcase. She hooks her arm with Andy's and leads her along the hall, pointing at every piece she worked on and was put up. Andy takes a sip of the juice served to her, playing with the straw with her fingers, and listens animatedly to Kat's chatter.

She doesn't realize her phone has been buzzing with texts and calls inside her bag until she has to pull it out to check the time:

Sunshine, I got out early, I'm otw home, I got your favorite to make up for today :) Wait for me?

Did you go back to your dorm? Are you sleeping already?

MJ said you aren't there but you took her car. Where the fuck are you

Call me right now.

"Jeepers," Andy mutters under her breath, placing her glass down. When Rhysand is pissed off, it almost always results in a nasty fight. With a deep breath, she calls him.

He answers at the first ring. "Where are you?"

His cold tone sends a chill down her spine. She hugs herself with one arm and steps out the building, grateful she already said her goodbyes to Kat. "I'm in school, I went to Kat's art exhibit," she answers stiffly.

"Jesus Christ," Rhysand snaps, and Andy flinches, fumbling with her bag for MJ's car key. "You know how fucking worried I was?"

"My phone was in my bag, I'm sorry, I didn't notice," she says truthfully, making her way to the parking lot. "And I didn't know you were coming home early."

"You would've known if you answered your goddamn phone."

"Stop swearing at me," Andy snaps back, throwing open the car door. "I'm going over there right now, we can argue about this then." Without waiting for another word, she hangs up and tosses her phone in the passenger seat.

Rhysand is seated on the counter, legs spread, a lit cigarette in between his teeth when Andy comes in the front door and takes off her shoes. She stalks over to him. "No smoking in the house," she says, frowning, grabbing his lighter off the table.

He takes the stick out and tosses it in the ash tray without looking away from her. "You didn't tell me you were going to Kat's thing."

Andy crosses her arms and inhales deeply. "I'm sorry about that," she says slowly, contemplating her words. She doesn't want a fight. "And I'm sorry I wasn't checking my phone, we were told to put it in silent mode and I didn't want to disrupt the exhibit. And I didn't have pockets—I know they sound like excuses, but it's the truth, and I'm sorry I didn't check it."

"We had plans," Rhysand says, drawling out his words. His face is blank, but Andy knows him better by now. He's still pissed off. "And you didn't tell me you were going to change them."

Andy blinks at him. "Plans that you said we were going to reschedule," she counters incredulously, raising her eyebrow. "Because you were still at work."

"That doesn't mean you can blow me off for someone else."

She cannot believe this. "I didn't blow you off!" she argues, insistent. "You did! And it just so happens Kat asked me to come, and I said we had plans, but then you couldn't make it, so I figured there was no harm in coming and supporting my friend because I knew you were still at work and couldn't make it to our date—"

"But I wasn't anymore and you weren't here—"

"Oh my God, Rhysand." She heaves a deep breath and closes her eyes briefly. "I have friends, too. Do you think I should've just stayed here? Waited for you to come home?"

"I didn't know where you were," Rhysand says through his teeth, standing up. Andy steps back at his full height, clutching his lighter in her hands. "I was worried sick. I didn't have Jonas' or fucking Bash's or even Piper's or Kat's number."

"And I said I was sorry for that and for not answering your messages and callsI" Andy snaps, eyes fuming. "I understand you were worried, and I'm sorry, but I am not apologizing for changing my plans when you said you couldn't make it."

Rhysand's jaw is clenched, and he opens his mouth to say something, but Andy cuts in sharply, "I'm going to shower to cool off before either one of us says something we're going to regret." She turns around to head for the stairs, and Rhysand doesn't stop her.

The water does little to cool her off, and there's still frustration prickling on her skin, and she feels it sticking to her bones. She grabs her towel off its rack forcefully, huffing under her breath when she wraps it around her body, hair wet and all, and faces the sink to look at herself in the mirror.

She's...calmer now, at least. She knows she needs to talk to Rhysand, she doesn't want an argument that could be easily fixed by talking blow up into something worse.

But when she steps into the room in her towel, Rhysand crowds her against the door, planting his hands on either side of her head, staring down at her with an expression Andy can't read.

Andy clutches her towel. "What?" she mutters, trying to keep eye contact.

"You were gone too long," he murmurs back, swallowing.

Ah. He must've thought she was getting ready to leave. "I said I was going to shower to cool off."

"Did you know that you're a brat sometimes?"

She frowns at him. "Did you know you're an insufferable baby sometimes?"

He hums, in agreement, she imagines. He drops his arms, lowers them to her body, tugs at her towel. "I was just..." Rhysand exhales, shakes his head. Pauses for a few, long moments, and Andy wonders what's going on inside his head.

It's hard like this, Andy thinks. It's hard when Rhysand speaks before he thinks when he's mad, that Andy's too sensitive and easily offended, that they both spew venom at each other over a situation so easily fixable. It's hard that Rhysand is so protective of himself, so frightened at the thought of being abandoned again, that he would seem like he wouldn't mind if she does abandon him. Wouldn't care.

"I don't know," he finally admits, and Andy can see the confusion in his eyes. "I don't know, I was stressed and I wanted to come home to you. And you weren't here."

"Rhysand—"

"And it's not your fault," he breathes out before she could say another word, dipping his head to bury it in her neck, brushing his lips over her skin. "I know. I was the one who asked to reschedule."

"Then why are you so mad?" Andy asks gently, curling one arm around his neck to thread her fingers in his hair. Rhysand's breath hitches at her touch. "Is it because I wasn't answering the phone? I didn't tell you where I was?"

"I don't know, I was just worried. And it pissed me off."

"You don't come second to my friends, if that's what you're thinking," Andy says quietly, biting her lip. She massages his scalp with her fingers. "We're both busy, Rhysand. You have to understand me just as much as I have to understand you. There's no competition."

He hums against her skin. Tugs at her towel again. "Just feel like you're slipping away sometimes," he whispers. "I know I have a lot of work. I'm the one who keeps bailing. And it's selfish to want you to myself but I do. God, sunshine, I do."

"You can't keep sunlight to yourself," Andy says, the corner of her lips turning up.

"I want it all, anyway."

Andy doesn't know if he means it. It's worrying if he does. Teasingly, she asks, "Are you done being a baby?"

"Are you done being a brat?" he fires back flatly, raising his head to look at her.

"Not quite," she says, grinning, dropping her towel and pushing him to the bed. "You know you're annoying when you're mad, right?"

"If I remember correctly, you said I was hot, too," he murmurs, running his hands down her body. "Fuck, you're so beautiful, fuck."

Andy shakes her head. "Not when you're being unreasonable. Unreasonable Rhysand is a pain in the ass."

"Speaking of ass," he says, switching them around. Andy squeals, lays on her stomach, and Rhysand hovers above her body, bringing his hands down to the dip of her back. "You're so pretty," he breathes, leans down to kiss her spine. "What do you say when you want me to slow down, baby?"

"Yellow," she says, biting her lip, not entirely sure what he's going to do.

"And when you want me to stop?"

"Red, Rhysand, please—"

"Pretty baby," he mutters, lowering his hands. "Perfect sunshine. You're a fucking brat."

And if her skin is red and sore, and if it shows on her face that she feels the sting when she sits down, Rhysand doesn't say a word. Only lifts his lips in a knowing smirk, hiding behind his cup of coffee.

Andy keeps his lighter.