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hyuckmov · 1 year

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haechan — settle down (rockstar hyuck) | part 1 of 3

wc: 22k (!!!!!!!) genre: angst, smut (18+ minors dni), fluff warnings: loss of virginity, very soft sex (hand-holding during sex), lots of kissing, protected sex, haechan fucks...a lot, fingering, oral (f receiving), very faint corruption kink, JEALOUSY, possessiveness (marking, signing on your body), handjob, car sex, cumplay, spit, exhibitionism (!), slight dumbification, slight degradation, titty-sucking etc, sweet aftercare a/n: i worked a lot on this and i really hope u like it.... i really hope it's hot... i hope u like rockstar haechan...please let me know what u think... (fic playlists) | browse the fic tag :)

he's been staring at you all night.

the bass thrums insistent in your chest, overriding your heartbeat, as you cling onto the barrier between the stage and the crowd. lights flash before your eyes, almost blinding you with how fast they blinked, and you can barely make out the faces of the boys onstage as they play their last song of the night. the air is damp, excitement riding high over the crowd in waves of endless screams that never seem to stop.

and the boy on the far right, fingers moving deftly over the strings of his electric guitar, hasn't taken his eyes off you for the last five minutes.

a sharp smile tugs at his lips, smokey makeup making his gaze ever more piercing as he looks down at you through his overgrown bangs, hairs at the nape of his neck unruly and wild. the lights throw the features of his face into high contrast, the tattoos curling on his neck and hip screaming for attention, as do the glint of jewelry scattered everywhere on his body. you feel smaller and smaller under his gaze, something lewd about the way he runs his tongue over his lips, eyes practically undressing you. he never seemed to stop moving his body as he played, bouncing on his toes or letting his body lean away from the sound, the music fuelling and becoming one with his movements as if he were a dancer.

as the music crashes and swells towards the end of his solo, his eyes slide over to yours with a practiced precision, as if he had memorized your position in the crowd. swaying his hips from side to side, his eyelids droop just slightly into a half-lidded stare, as he ruts his hips playfully against his guitar.

the screams of the other fans are deafening, but you can hardly hear it over the rush of your heartbeat in your own ears.

haechan finally looks away, a small smile on his face as he signals to his bandmates towards the song's ending. you feel almost empty as the weight of his attention lifts off of you, pressing yourself up against the railing on tip-toe to try and catch his eye again before sinking down and feeling like an idiot.

he was just doing fanservice for an audience member, nothing more. you try not to find his actions endearing as he slings his arm around the lead singer, mark, his surprisingly boyish laugh making your heart flutter in your chest as he waves towards his fans one more time.

people are leaving the venue, the sounds of their excitement getting further and further away, but you stand there, reeling, clutching onto the metal barrier, sure that if you took your hands off it you would fall. finally, glancing up at the stage one last time, you're just about to leave to find your friend, the only reason you were even here, when –

"leaving so soon?"

the boy is sitting on the stage right in front of you, leaning forward so you can see his face clearly. up close, he's even prettier than before, delicate almost doll-like legs wrapped under ripped skinny jeans, leading up to thick and toned thighs, his slender waist shadowed under his large leather jacket ridden with buckles and straps. without the bright stage lights, you can see the moles on his skin, tracing a dangerous path under the collar of his shirt.

at your lack of response, he raises his eyebrows. "i asked if you were leaving, princess."

"i have to find my friend," the words come out rushed. "um…jaemin? your band hired him tonight as the photographer."

"i remember," he nods. "so…you're not a fan?"

"no." he nods, silence filling the space between the both of you. you can see him start to formulate a goodbye, his heart-shaped lips parting, but you don't want the conversation to end, you don't want him to stop looking at you. "- but…i really enjoyed your show."

he looks a little surprised, and a genuine smile spreads sweetly across his face. "why?" he challenges.

"what?"

"what did you like about our show?" his eyes glint, and you know he's teasing you.

"the songs were good," you mumble.

"yeah?" he licks his lips, a slight hint of nervousness showing on his face as he clears his throat. "who was your favorite member?"

"huh?"

"your favorite band member," he repeats, tilting his head to the side. "jeno, he's our drummer, mark's the lead singer, jisung plays bass and i…" he waves his hand absentmindedly towards his guitar, on the stand, still onstage behind him. "i'm haechan," he adds.

if you wanted to get to know him, it wouldn't hurt to show a little of exactly how much you liked him, would it? "you were my favorite," you admit. "you…you have really good stage presence," you blurt out.

"stage presence?"

"yeah. when i'm in the crowd…i can't really pay attention to anything else. and you…" you swallow, heat burning up your cheeks, but the way his eyes were looking at you with curiosity making you finish your thought. "you make the audience feel like they want to please you." the unspoken truth, that you, as part of the audience, wanted to please him, hangs in the air.

your embarrassment, at saying something so suggestive and raw, is quickly washed away by the smile tugging at the corner of his lip, a smirk that quickly spreads across his face into a grin. you're so mesmerized by it, that you're taken aback by the way he suddenly shifts, hopping down the stage lightly and standing in front of you.

"princess," he says, softly, placing his hands on the railing next to yours so the sides of your fingers barely brush. "do you want to come to a party?"

you resist the urge to immediately say yes. "what party?"

"there's one after every show. jaemin will have been invited, he can take you." the venue has emptied out, even his bandmates have left the stage. and yet, his voice is pitched low as he leans in, body warmth radiating off of him, and you are so close, you can see the smudged eyeliner on his lower lash line, can make out the grey of his colored contact lenses. "you can find me there."

"but…" you feel lost. "why can't you just take me?"

"if we show up together, it'll seem a little like we're dating, no?" his voice is quiet, but firm.

hurt and confusion blossoms in your chest. was it really that serious? keeping your voice as nonchalant as possible, you ask, "would that be so bad? for…for us to date?”

but you know it's the wrong thing to say.

he exhales slowly, a brief look of pain flitting over his features. he hated doing this, hated reaching the point in conversations where rules and boundaries had to be discussed. nights where he found his girls at the party were the easiest, letting body language and long glances do the talking, as few strings attached as possible.

but today he couldn't stop looking at you, in the front row, couldn't help sliding his eyes over and checking to see if you were watching him, a pleased thrum burning in his chest every time his gaze found yours. it seemed logical, to spend his time with you tonight. but if he'd known you'd felt like this, he never would have waited onstage.

"what's your name, princess?"

"y/n."

"y/n, i'm not making you my girlfriend," he states, bluntly. "i can't, and i don't want to. you can meet me at the party later, but we'll just fuck – nothing else."

his words make you feel small, his tone harsh compared to his previous meandering way of speaking. even then, the thought of letting him walk away, to never see him again, to end this story on this moment, made you feel worse than anything.

at the look on your face, he softens slightly.

"i'm sorry if you thought this was going to be more," he says, quietly. "you don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"i do," you correct him. frustrated, he sighs, and you rush to clarify. "i'll meet you at the party. just…nothing else." your end off hesitantly, unwilling to echo his crude words.

"are you sure?" you think you see his gaze darken, the tension suddenly heightening as he places one of his large hands over your own. his guitar-calloused fingertips are rough as they slide against the back of your hand, drawing shapes that burn into your skin like tattoos. you nod, but he shakes his head — slowly, sweetly patient. "i need to hear you say it," he murmurs, and the words go straight to your gut.

"i'm sure." your voice comes out as a whisper, but he doesn't seem to mind. he leans in, and just when you think your lips are going to meet, your mouth parting expectantly, he tilts his head and kisses you softly on your cheek.

"make sure no one sees you, princess," he murmurs, low in your ear, before straightening up. "don't make me wait too long, hm?"

—

"did anyone follow you up here?"

haechan sits with his legs hanging off the edge of the roof, arms slung over one of the lower rungs of the railing. he doesn't spare you a glance as he takes another drink from his bottle of red wine, knowing that you're hanging onto his every word.

"no," you reply, voice barely louder than a whisper. you repeat yourself again, louder, hating the way your voice shakes with hesitance. "no, i don't think so."

he exhales, shrugging off the leather jacket that hangs large over his frame, his shoulderblades moving under his white shirt, veiny arms pushing the bottle to the side as he shifts himself backwards fluidly so he's further away from the ledge, his long legs stretched out.

"well?" and now he turns to look at you, dark eyes framed with makeup searching for yours, his gaze heavy. the piercing on his eyebrow glints in the moonlight, and when he leans his weight back on his hands, his shirt rides up so that you can see just the hint of a tattoo curling low on his hip. "are you ready?"

feet unsteady, you shuffle over to him, standing over him as he watches you through hooded eyes. unsure, you start to sit down next to him, but a hand quickly reaches out to touch your knee, dragging his touch up the back of your thigh, the cold scrape of his rings on your skin feeling rough and claiming all at once. his lips part almost mockingly, commanding you without words to stop.

he flicks his gaze down to his lap, eyes flickering back up to yours. eyebrows raised, as if in a challenge.

slowly, you lower yourself onto his lap, hands hesitantly grasping for his shoulders. his arms come to steady your waist, slipping under your shirt and touching bare skin, feeling the way your body shifts and moves. it's only because your body is pressed up against his, his hands are roaming up and down your thighs, that he notices something which makes him halt his movements, licking his lips.

"you're shaking," he murmurs, now brushing the hair out of your eyes, tucking a strand behind your ear as he studies you, taking in the way you're all tensed up, the uncomfortable way your legs are folded, goosebumps erupting every time his fingertips brushed your skin, muscles trembling.

you swallow. "i've never done this before," you admit.

his eyes widen, now removing his hands from you entirely, letting them fall. "you're a virgin?"

you nod, heart pounding in your chest. he's looking away, his jaw set, his gaze hardened. did he hate that you had no experience? or would he enjoy that? "i can…" the words come out in a jumble, "you can teach me, i want… i want to-"

"no." with surprising gentleness, he motions for you to move off his lap, and you follow his actions mindlessly, docile under his touch.

"do you think i won't be good enough?" you ask, hating the way your voice comes out wounded and achy, hating how weak he made you.

he pauses, tongue poking into the side of his cheek, and you think you can see a flash of something deep in his eyes.

"y/n…i can't be your first time."

"but i want –"

"you need to be with someone who will take care of you." despite his words, his voice is cold, and clear. "i don't do that." he dusts off his jacket, shrugging it back on as he takes another drink from the bottle, eyes closed, unwilling to look at you for another second. "go home, y/n. i'll see you at the next show."

you don't move. you kneel there, next to him, eyes desperately searching for his.

"go home, y/n," he repeats, harshly.

"i want to stay here," you bite back, stubbornly, hurt making your voice brittle.

"then you'll have to watch me fuck someone else." lazily, he reaches into the pocket of his jacket for his phone, and you can see him scroll through his messages, faces and names blurring as you barely decipher him type out another message. his fingers moving across the keyboard, as the anonymous responder sends a series of heart emojis, eagerness palpable through the screen. he locks his phone, the click sound startling you out of your daze, and he puts his phone down on his lap, the action somehow mocking.

"so?" he's still not looking at you, staring straight ahead into the night. "do you want to watch?"

and as you make your way down the stairs, shame burning at your neck and tears burning hot down your cheeks, you can swear you feel his eyes follow you all the way down.

—

the feeling of embarrassment curdles in your stomach, and leaves a sour taste in your mouth every time you look in the mirror. it's what leads you to skip the next show, making an excuse to jaemin about 'having other plans'. and then the other, and then the other. and then it's been a week, and your friend has finally managed to drag you to one of their after-parties, pushing you through the door with a little too much enthusiasm. he knows something is bothering you, and he wants nothing more than to help take your mind off of it — but he has no idea that the something is currently leaning against the archway leading off into the living room, nursing a bottle of beer in his hands, and brushing his hands around some girl's waist in a way that made you feel sick.

jaemin introduces you to mark, out on the balcony. mark is sweet, and friendly, a regular boy-next-door who happens to have face gems twinkling next to his eyes and leather pants tight around his thighs. he asks you about college, and work. he talks about the songs he's writing on his guitar. he catches your drink when you almost drop it over the railing, an easy smile on his face when his fingers brush yours passing it back to you, and a shy grin when he reaches out to lace his fingers with yours properly.

"i'm really busy, but i'd love to talk to you more," he says, sincerely, as he takes your phone from your hands to key in his number. he texts himself so his contact is at the top of your messages, making you promise to text him when you get back. he looks at you meaningfully, squeezing your hand before dropping it to go back to his party.

there's a moment, where you think to follow.

but then all of it – every touch, every glance, every speck of light you counted reflected in marks' wide eyes, — all of it is wiped clean the moment you hear a familiar low voice.

"trying to get with my friends now, princess?"

when the light illuminates his silhouette, hurt registers before anything else.

hickeys bloom across the side of haechan's neck, trailing down to his chest. only a simple mesh top lies underneath his leather jacket, and you can see the shadows of a few more bruises on his torso when his arm shifts, tugging the jacket open just slightly. his hair is a mess, tugged this way and that by desperate hands, and you think there may be a smear of bright pink lipstick at the corner of his lips. you can smell the reek of flowery perfume, cloyingly sweet, all over his clothes, as he leans back against the railing, eyes turned towards the party happening behind the sliding glass doors.

"i thought you said i was your favorite band member," he murmurs, a mock expression of sadness on his face. "mark's nothing like me."

"why do you care?" you will yourself to sound more confident, letting the hurt dissolve into defiance.

"i don't." the pout has melted off his face, a burning intensity now in the way he stares at you, making you shift uncomfortably. a moment passes, where he studies your face, eyes flicking across your features almost methodically. "so am i?"

"what?"

"am i still your favorite?" his voice is bitter, as if he knows the answer before asking and he doesn't like it.

"are you seriously asking me that?"

"princess –"

he's interrupted by a chime from your phone. the both of you glance down at it at the same time, the text and the sender unmistakeable on your otherwise empty lockscreen.

mark <3 : thanks for talking to me today :) let me know when you get home safe!

there's a pause.

"mark has a girlfriend," haechan blurts out, his voice coarse.

"what?" you look up at him, trying to figure out if this was a joke, but his face is impassive.

"he cheats on her all the time with girls from his parties. it's his thing." haechan's still looking at your screen even though your phone has turned off, resolutely not meeting your eyes.

it takes you a moment to gather yourself, every one of mark‘s actions and words suddenly flashing before you like a flipbook, sweet memories crumpling into dust. "are you lying?" you ask, shakily.

"why would i?" he finishes his beer, veins shifting on the back of his hand as he crushes the empty can, the crunch of metal dissonant against the warm summer night. his next words are just as rough. "whether or not you get with mark means nothing to me. i don't care. i don't even know you."

his words ring true, as he pushes off from the railing, leaving you alone on the balcony without another word. the abrupt end to the conversation has you turning, eyes following him as he steps back into the party, looking away a little too late as you see him gesture someone over with a flick of his fingers, her long hair covering both their faces when their lips meet.

jaemin finds you crying on the balcony, but he can't figure out the reason. you delete mark's contact off your phone the moment you get home, and jaemin promises you he's never taking you to any other show or party with the band ever again.

—

"there should be an empty room somewhere." the man lets go of your hand, at the foot of the stairs. "can you wait for me inside one? i'll find you in a minute."

it's only when you're halfway upstairs, when you realise that you're really about to give yourself to a stranger for your first time.

he has a bright smile, sweet dimples showing each time his lips turn upwards, each time he calls you baby. he's not much older than you, but there's an easy authority in the way he takes your cup from your hands and tells you to stop drinking, getting you glasses of water instead. his body dwarfs yours in size, and when you put your hand on his thigh, you see something shift in his expression that tells you he may not be as gentle as he seems.

and when you tell him he'll be your first time, his throat bobs as he swallows, eyes dragging up and down your body with a newfound hunger.

you've never really cared about who you lost your virginity to, not considering it a big occassion or anything to make a fuss over. your mind flits back to two weeks ago, when some boy had cared way more about it than you did.

"you need to be with someone who will take care of you."

anger flares in your chest at the thought of it, as you climb up the stairs two steps at a time, and it's just when you're just reaching the first landing, when you suddenly coming to a crashing halt because —

the sound of microphone feedback makes you put your hands over your ears, instinctively, the shrill sound piercing the air.

a loud bass suddenly starts up, vibrating under your feet. did they hire a live band? the song that booms from downstairs is familiar, and with a jolt, you realise that you know it a little too well.

that honey-sweet voice, the bitter bite to his words soothed over by the sweetest of tones – drifts up from the speaker, a haunting melody that echoes up the empty staircase, punctuated by a screaming crowd.

as if to further prove it was him, he lets out a laugh at the end of his line, the tone of it dark and sarcastic, the crowd going wild at the sound of it.

was it a studio recording? it must be, because there was no way this band was downstairs, performing live at this random birthday party, there was no chance…

… except now mark is speaking into the microphone, greeting the audience, asking for the birthday girl. unease stirs in your stomach as you trace your steps back down, a dread that fills you up as the makeshift stage comes back into view, where the DJ had been just a moment ago.

to where haechan stood, guitar on its stand, eyes already trained on yours, an expression of white hot anger on his face.

—

"him? really?"

you can still feel his touch on your arm, from how he dragged you into the bedroom.

you're frozen on the steps.

haechan signals to mark, ignoring the questioning looks from the members and protests from the boy as he steps off the platform, making a beeline for the stairs. his brows are furrowed, his teeth gritted as he glares at you.

"you wanna go upstairs that bad?" he murmurs. "lead the fucking way, princess."

he starts towards you, and you take a step back, body colliding with the door. the sound seems to ground him, and he takes a deep breath, trying to calm down, finally turning away to sit on the bed, the space allowing you to relax just slightly.

"i thought," he starts, patiently, swallowing hard. "i thought i told you to find someone to take care of you, for your first time."

the reminder of his words feels like a stab in your chest. "i thought you didn't care," you shoot back.

he ignores you. "did you come here with your friends? where's jaemin?"

what the fuck was wrong with him? "who are you to tell me what to do?"

his lips part, but no words come out. sighing, he rubs his face with his hands, still trying to calm down. "y/n," he starts again, voice pained. "i don't want to see you get hurt."

"how do you know he would've hurt me?"

his eyes meet yours. "did you tell him?" he asks, quietly.

"tell him i was a virgin? yes." anger seeps into your tone, as you glare at him. "he reacted very differently from you."

"y/n that's not a good thing!" he stands up, his voice raised. "are you that desperate to get fucked?"

you step back in alarm, tears forming in your eyes. fear, of the situation you almost put yourself in, of the boy in front of you, makes your throat close up, and you can't help the way your body tenses. the cruelness of his words settles in a little too late, an acidic burn in your chest.

haechan feels the tips of his fingers go numb as you start to cry, guilt flooding his mind in a way he rarely felt. his face crumples, and he does't know what to do when you curl in on yourself, every sound you make feeling like a punch to his ribs.

"i'm sorry," he whispers, reaching for you tentatively. when you don't pull away, his arms circle around you, and he makes sure to leave enough space for you to breathe or break free if you wanted to. "i'm sorry," he repeats again, as you sink into his chest, needing his warmth as much as you hated his presence.

"take it back," you mumble. "take it back right now."

"i take it back," he says, immediately. "i didn't mean any of it. i'm sorry."

"you don't get to reject me," you start, voice shaky, "and control who i choose to be with."

he sucks in a breath, gripping onto you a little tighter. "y/n –"

"it's…it's fucked up," you hiccup, fisting at the fabric of his shirt, crumpling it in your fists in frustration.

"i know," he breathes. "i know."

his hand comes up to stroke your hair, and you hate how it really does manage to comfort you, your breaths steadying as he pats your back clumsily. when you think you've calmed down enough, you place your hands on his chest, and he backs away instinctively, looking down at his feet. never meeting your eyes.

"i'm tired, haechan," you whisper. "i don't want to play whatever game you're playing." he doesn't respond, so you continue. "you don't want to fuck me, but you don't want anyone else to."

"i do." his response is so quiet, you barely catch it.

"you want other people to fuck me?"

"no, i don't." he lifts his head, his expression conflicted. "i…i want to be your first time."

"what?"

when he doesn't respond, you sigh, agitated. "haechan, i already told you i don't want to play your games anymore –"

"not a game," he cuts you off, softly. "i'll take care of you." the gentleness of his voice makes you feel small. it's almost overwhelming, the way he looks into your eyes, without his usual apathy and bitterness.

"i thought you said you don't do that?" it takes you all your willpower to not give in.

"i don't," he breathes. "but with you i will." he's starting to think he has no choice – that there's no one else in the world who's going to take care of you the way he knows you need. he doesn't know when he decided to give in, in between watching you place your hand on that man's thigh, and you standing in front of him now. all he knows is that he either had to do this, or make you disappear from his life entirely.

the words hang in the air. even now, feeling so torn and hurt and tired, your body can't help how much you want him, hyper-attuned to the little details in his appearance: the messy black nail polish scrawled on his nails, smoky eye make-up that makes his gaze all the more intense and devouring. there's a heady smell hanging onto his skin and clothes, rich and indulgent vanilla and musk, filling up your senses with a giddy desire. long legs in a pair of ripped skinny jeans, his thighs stretching out the fabric in a way that almost looked like it hurt.

"okay," you mumble. his lips part, but you answer him before he has a chance to ask. "please take care of me." your voice is small, yet each word seems to catch fire, incinerating the air between you.

his tongue darts out, wetting his lip. "yeah?"

you nod. finally giving in to the pull of your body, you take a step closer, looking up at him through your lashes.

"i'm sorry…about all of it." he murmurs. "thank you for trusting me, still."

you can't think of anything to say, so you nod again. it feels like your heart is in your throat.

he swallows. "do you…you shouldn't…" his eyes dart around the room. "we shouldn't do it here. in…in some strangers bedroom." gently, he touches your arm, looking at you hesitantly. "would you feel comfortable if we did it in your apartment? or i could bring you to my shared apartment with the band…they wouldn't be back yet. but we might have to be quick…"

your head feels like it's spinning.

at your lack of response, he rambles on, eyes focused on yours, trying to discern your thoughts. "w-what do you think? or…if you really want to get comfortable i don't mind booking a hotel, it's a little last minute but-" he bites his lip. "do you want to meet somewhere else or i could take you in my car? i haven't drank much, i swear, but if you don't trust me-"

"stop," you blurt out.

he freezes, the hand grazing your arm dropping to his side, fingers playing with the rips in his jeans.

"i'm sorry," he says, softly.

"no, i mean…stop asking me questions." you exhale. "i trust you," you repeat, softly. every word of it was true — despite everything, you were still the same person sitting on his lap up on the rooftop. "just…take care of me, however you want."

he swallows. "you sound…" exhaling, he shakes his head to clear it. "okay. is your apartment empty?"

"yes," you whisper. "jaemin's away for tonight."

"i'll drive," he murmurs. and now he takes a step closer to you, until he's all you can see, the room melting away. "but before that…can i kiss you first, princess?" you nod, transfixed by him, as he leans in.

haechan kisses soft.

his lips are plush, and soft, taking your bottom lip between his own sweetly. he tilts his head slowly as if he's afraid he'll overwhelm you by moving too fast, his lips parting as he invites you to do the same, his hands going to the back of your head to guide you. a soft sigh escapes the back of his throat when your lips part and he can taste you, and you can taste him — vanilla like how he smells, with the slight bite of alcohol. your hand comes up to touch his round cheeks, surprisingly soft too, and he smiles into this kiss.

he's the one to break apart from you, with a patience that feels rehearsed. he's taking care of you, as he leans in so your noses brush, your breaths mingling.

"haechan…" he hums, encouragingly. "i…you know this isn't…my first kiss, right?"

a pause. "i know," he murmurs.

"so… so you don't have to be gentle." you squirm slightly as his touch grows heavier, eyes darkening at the implications behind your words.

he backs away from you, hands pulling you with him as he sits down on the bed. his eyes flick down to his lap as he lowers his gaze, before dragging them painstakingly up to yours again.

"sit, princess."

this time, when he feels you tremble against him, your knees caging in his hips as you straddle him, all he does is lean in and kiss you — just as sweet as he did the first time.

"i'm gentle with you because i want to be," another kiss, his tongue sliding against your bottom lip. "not because i have to." his fingers guide your chin upwards, baring your neck to him as he leans in and leaves a kiss on a spot under your jaw. and then a longer, more lingering kiss. and now he's making his way down your neck, each press of his lips on your skin longer and rougher than the last, and now you're sure he's sucking marks onto your neck, especially when you feel a slight sting of teeth.

you're shifting against him restlessly, body hardly your own as you fall under his touch. you don't know how long you spend there, in his lap, as he works on your neck, taking breaks to kiss you on the lips, his sighs echoing into the cavern of your mouth as it falls open with need. it's when he sucks lightly on your tongue, almost boyish in the way he backs away with a small smile, when a soft sound escapes your lips.

"yeah?" he murmurs, leaning in again, letting the tip of his tongue brush against yours gently. "you like that?"

you nod.

"you sound so pretty," he breathes, as he slots his lips with yours again, humming against yours as you let out another small whimper.

"haechan-" you mumble, and he draws away, looking at you expectantly. "i think i'm ready."

"really?" his hands on your waist give you a light squeeze. "you want me to take you home now?"

you're still giddy from the heat radiating off his skin, your lips craving his contact again now he's stopped kissing you. you nod, and he smiles, gently guiding you off his lap as he unlocks the door.

he's gentle the whole way down – as he leads you away from the main staircase so you wouldn't be seen, the crowd still distracted by the band. he cradles you carefully against his side all the way out of the back gates and into his car, and when your breath catches as he leans over to buckle your seatbelt for you, he's gentle even as he presses into you for a spur of the moment kiss, tongue licking into your mouth with more fervor.

it's not a song that plays in the car as he drives and you try to remember the way to your apartment, but rather it's a low and sultry beat — bluesy harmonies stretched out over pulses. part of you wonders if he played it on purpose, because imagining his voice set against it already had you melting against the leather seats.

it would all be rather sweet – how gentle he's being, the soft way he smiles at you in the dim lights of your lift lobby, the way he holds your hand and lets you lean against him as you head higher and higher, the space around you feeling like a vacuum of trapped adrenaline and lust.

but there was also no denying the fact that he jolted at the slightest sound, his grip on you tight and slack all at once, the tenderness in his eyes here one second and gone the next. a hurt you could almost taste on your tongue, that you were holding onto something so fragile, and that to him it seemed the worst thing that could happen would be if he were found with you.

—

but all of it changes, when you're alone in your room. the weight of his attention, that you'd felt even as one person amidst a screaming crowd, seems to intensify tenfold as he lets his jacket slide to the floor, eyes on you.

he reads the apprehension in your body, the way you hover near your bed, waiting for him to guide you.

"let me know if it's too much, okay?" he murmurs, as he pulls you in for a hug first, feeling you warm against him as you cling on to his embrace. "you can tell me to stop whenever, and i will." his hands rub circles up your waist, teasing on the silver of skin between your top and your skirt.

you nod, but he shakes his head – a thumb brushing across your cheek.

"use your words," he murmurs. "so i know you mean it."

"okay," you breathe, now guiding him to the bed yourself, curiosity getting the better of you. you had almost forgotten, in the midst of everything, why exactly you went to the party, and the familiar need sparks back to life in you.

haechan sits down against the headboard, pulling you into his lap, the movement feeling even more natural now. he can see that you're nervous and eager at the same time, hands fumbling with the soft material of his shirt, unsure what to do as you shift around on top of him.

"can i kiss you?" in the soft lamp light of the room, the sharp-cut edges of his face seem to blur, large doe-eyes looking up at you kindly. it makes you want to lean in, so you do — slotting your lips with his boldly, kissing him the way you wanted from him. it surprises him, the way you press your lips against him harshly, the gentle graze of your teeth against his plush lip.

he lets out a small laugh, and kisses you back just as fiercely, the atmosphere in the room melting as temperature skyrockets, until it's almost unbearable to be separated from you by layers of fabric.

"may i-" he mumbles, tugging at the hem of his own shirt, and when your voice chokes out an affirmative, he's quick to yank it over his head, movements rough, exposing beautiful skin, his body warm and solid under your palms as you lean into him.

your cheeks warm, and he notices – a small smile on his face as his hands cup your cheeks, and he gives you a sweet kiss, abruptly different from the others. suddenly, it's almost too tender, the way he looks up at you with endearment in his eyes, kissing you chastely, and you sink into it a little guiltily, enjoying the innocence of it.

when you feel your heart reach its boiling point, your own hands go to the hem of your shirt, and you pull it over your head. you don't mean to slow down your movements, not meaning to tease or entice, but the way his eyes darken looking at your body made you wish you did it on purpose.

"pretty," he praises, head dipping to press a kiss between your collarbones. and another one, lower done, almost reaching your cleavage. the bra you had chosen mindlessly that morning was a thin bralette, and it did little to hide how aroused you were, your nipples poking stiff peaks through the fabric.

but still, he doesn't make any move to remove it, peppering kisses on your bare chest, over the slope of your breasts, almost slobbering at your skin, lips dewy and wet. his arms are firm around you, meeting each one of your movements and steadying you, helping you rock your hips into him as desire surges in your body.

"haechan, –" his name had never sounded so breathless falling from your lips.

"yes, baby?"

the term of endearment makes you feel smaller in his lap, the only thing making you feel better was the way he was just as heated as you, his breaths coming hard and fast. he wanted everything to be perfect, he never wanted to rush you into anything you weren't comfortable with, his hands staying firm on your lower back.

you tug at the bralette covering your chest impatiently, the fabric never feeling more uncomfortable on your skin.

"you want me to take it off?" he asks, head nuzzling into your neck as his fingers wander up your back. you feel it loosen around you, his finger expertly fiddling the clasp open, dragging it down and accidentally brushing against your hard nipples, making you hiss.

"i'll make you feel good," he promises, softly, lowering his head, kissing down the slope of your breasts. he makes eye contact with you, searching your eyes for any form of discomfort.

"be gentle," you murmur, nodding for him to continue. "they feel sensitive."

"of course," he mumbles, before starting to lightly kitten-lick at your nipple, the feeling all at once new and arousing, making you pulse against him in his lap. he circles his tongue around your areola, being as gentle as possible, opting not to flick at your nipples but rather suck one into his mouth, heart-shaped full lips sinful against your chest. the heat between your legs is overwhelming, as he switches to your other side, his hand coming up to knead your breast, warm palms moving over skin and making you giddy.

"please," you whimper, as he laps at you. "please, i need you, please –"

"you have me," he murmurs, one of his hands reaching out for yours blindly, scrabbling against the back of your hand from where it's pressed against his chest, flipping it over and interlocking your fingers. "i'll take care of you. lie down for me?"

he moves you off his lap, guiding you onto your back, propping up pillows you can rest against. the familiar feeling of your bed is only faintly there, your senses filled with the sweet heady smell of haechan, from the perfume and lotion clinging onto his skin, as you watch him remove the numerous rings on his fingers, placing them carefully on your bedside table.

haechan kisses his way down your body, suckling on your skin, leaving longer, lingering bruises on your hips, finally reaching your thighs as he lowers himself down. he guides your hips up with a heavy hand, sliding a cushion carefully under as he situates himself between your legs. you're so sensitive, that the feeling of his long hair against your skin has your thighs sliding together, squeezing around his head accidentally.

"you okay?" he murmurs, as he kisses your thighs again, patiently easing your thighs open.

you suddenly feel shy, knowing he was about to see you so intimately. even when you had agreed to let him take care of you, even as you trusted him completely, you had never imagined seeing him in between your spread legs like this, somewhere you hadn't even explored much yourself. would he be disappointed or disgusted? what if he didn't like what he saw or felt?

"baby…." he rubs a hand carefully on your thigh, tips of his fingers slipping just under the hem of your skirt. "is this okay? do you want to stop?"

"i don't want to stop," you admit, and you find that its true.

haechan looks at you, studying your face. after a moment, he crawls back up your body, brushing the hair out of your eyes before he brushes his lips against yours softly, as if asking for permission. you grant it, lips parting as his warm mouth meets yours, a welcome taste in your mouth that's become familiar. you kiss for a while, his hand finding yours in the mess of sheets and intertwining your fingers, until you feel confident enough to slip your other hand to the zipper of your skirt.

you tug it off your legs, haechan breaking away from the kiss to help you, moving down your body.

"i'll take care of you," he whispers, his hand never letting go of yours. "these are so pretty, baby," he whispers, a finger tracing over the lacy pattern on the front of your panties. you've never been more aware of your own arousal seeping out of you, as he places a kiss low on your hip, and then another just on the waistband of your panties, and suddenly, you want nothing more than for them to come off.

your fingers tug at them impatiently, and he takes hold of your hand, kissing your fingertips lightly. "let me," he murmurs, and you hear something low and raw in his voice, something that maybe wasn't there before. sitting up slightly, he pulls your panties down your legs, assuming his position as quickly as he'd left it once the fabric was out of the way, rearranging your legs so they're spread open for him.

the tension in the room fills your lungs up like smoke. you barely mumble his name, beg him to do something, before you feel a soft touch against your clit, making your hips jolt and you let out a sharp exhale.

"let me hear you," he encourages, gently, as he starts to rub circles into your sensitive nub, dipping down to your entrance and spreading your wetness all over your cunt. your hips keep shifting around, so he pulls his arm around to press down into you, keeping you still for him as he slowly pleasures you.

"t-this feels…" you start, lost in your own head. you've touched yourself before, but the sensitivity seemed to be heightened to an exaggerated amount once it was someone else touching you. he looks up at you, face still wickedly beautiful, the gentlest look in his eyes laced with something like desperation.

"can't believe i got so lucky," he murmurs, suckling a kiss close to your heat, high on the soft skin of your thigh. your legs clamp around his head, and it makes him groan, breath heavy against your cunt. "you're pretty everywhere, baby. can't believe i'm the only one."

the words flood your veins with a dark thrill, the idea of being his, of him taking all your firsts. "hypocrite," you mumble, cutting yourself off with a moan as he applies more pressure to your clit.

"maybe a little," he admits, shyly, as he dips his head back down and flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue, his fingers sliding down to your entrance instead.

you cry out at the foreign feeling, the wet muscle of his tongue stroking your clit expertly while his slender finger slips past your entrance. his name, strung along by curses, echoes from your mouth as he teases his finger in and out of your entrance, tongue lying flat and wide as he laps at your clit in a way that made you feel like you were already close.

stiffening his tongue, his flicks your clit with the tip, humming into you just as he curls his finger against your walls in a come-hither motion. he knows when you cum — back arching as you seemed to chase for stimulation above you, your walls sucking tightly around his finger and kneading it eagerly, making him groan as he imagines the feeling of you tight around his cock. he lets you ride out your orgasm on his face, his nose bumping your clit and eliciting another drawn out whimper, tongue teasing your entrance.

when your hands push at his head, he backs away easily, once again making his way up your body to check on you, the warmth of his bare chest against yours making you feel safe.

"good?" he kisses you, tongue moving against yours, inviting you to take a taste. "did you like that, sweetheart?"

you nod, gasping. "haechan…"

"you did perfect for me, baby." his hands run up and down your sides as he kisses down your neck, enjoying the way your body wraps yourself around him, arms pulling his weight down into you.

"i still need you," you murmur. the pleasure from before had only satiated you for a little bit, and the feeling of his hard length poking at your thigh was making your head spin with a whole different level of desire, as you grapple for his belt. "please, i've been good-"

"you're perfect." he comforts you with a kiss.

he guides your hand away from him gently, unbuckling his belt and letting his pants slide onto the bed as you lie back down on your pillows. tugging his underwear down, you swallow as he squeezes his thick length, the pink tip leaking clear liquid. he watches you watch him spread it on his length, pumping himself slowly, drawing out the pleasure as he moans, a sweet tenor sound that rings lewdly in the air. you watch, mesmerized, as he thrusts his hips forward a few times, stroking himself with a slight twist of his wrist before letting go abruptly, letting his cock slap up against his lower stomach.

fishing around in the pocket of his discarded jeans, he takes out a condom wrapper, opening it quickly and rolling it onto his cock. you're sure you're making a mess of the sheets, you can feel your arousal and his saliva on your thighs, can feel another gush of wetness seep out of you as he lowers himself over your body and slides his cock against your folds.

he grinds himself on you, hoping to get you wetter so it may be less painful when he enters you. his fingers find your clit again, this time he rubs it urgently, with just the correct amount of pressure to have you shaking and lifting your hips into him.

"stop me anytime," he reminds you, as he lines himself up to your fluttering entrance. "you have to relax for me, baby." he pitches his voice lower now, and you can't tell if he's comforting you or if he's slowly being pulled under by lust too. he makes soft shushing noises, nipping at your lips with gentle kisses as you whimper, feeling the bulbous tip of his cock slowly stretch you open, his fingers resuming his movements. the head of his cock still feels shallow inside you, when it suddenly brushes against a sensitive spot, and his fingers on your clit glide just right, making you cum, hard. he feels you clamp down tightly around his tip, and he hisses, eyes squeezed shut. his mind wiped clean for just a second as pleasure thrums through his entire body, an aching pain that makes his mouth hang open.

"'m sorry," you whimper, tears prickling to your eyes as you interpret his expression as annoyance. "i'm so sorry, it just felt so good —"

"baby…" he looks at you, his face morphing into panic when he sees the tears in your eyes. "don't apologise, please, you have nothing to be sorry for."

you still look unconvinced, so he reaches for one of your hands, holding it in his and kissing your fingertips. "you are so pretty when you cum," the filthy words sound sacred the way he says them. "and you felt so fucking good around my cock," he murmurs, voice sinking low again.

you begin to relax again, sniffling slightly as you adjust your legs around his waist, feeling him slide a little deeper into you. he coaxes you into taking more of him, kissing you sweetly as he slips in further and further, until finally the both of you are groaning, his body shuddering slightly against yours as he feels your warm gummy walls tight around him.

"so tight," he groans, cursing again under his breath as he circles his hips, drawing a moan from you as your thighs tense. "how are you so tight?," he panted, tone still teasing despite him trying desperately not to buck his hips into you. "has no one ever fucked you before or something?"

you don't have it within you to tease back.

"only you, haechan." the words are reverent, hushed. it strips him of any of his cockiness, his teasing, his boldness — his features softening at the way you look up at him, trying to maintain eye contact even as the ache between your legs drove you insane, not wanting to waste a single moment of this, in case it never happened again.

"haechan…" your nails rake against his back, drawing him out of his daze. "please fuck me."

"fuck," he breathes, as he slowly starts to move in you, obsessed with the way the words sound in your voice. his thick length drags against your walls, heavy inside you, the wet sounds of your arousal seeping into the room. you feel full and stretched out, sated by having him so close to you, it feels like you can feel him deep in your gut the way he's thrusting into you, especially when he hikes your legs higher on his waist, drawing a long moan from you as he manages to stimulate a spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

he changes his pace, now barely pulling himself out of you as he nudges the head of his cock against your sweet spot. licking a long stripe from your neck up to your ear, one hand tangles itself with yours, while the other ghosts over your sensitive nipples.

"i'm cumming," the words come out rushed as you barely hold onto your senses, cumming harshly for the third time, your body thrown into pleasure as your muscles tense. he succumbs to the feeling of your walls kneading his length and squeezing tight around him, eyes going unfocused and hazy as his lips part, a moan drawn out from his lungs without conscious thought. he's aware of the way your muscles tense as he fucks both of you through your highs, relishing in the sting of your fingernails on his back as he slows down his movements. he draws out both your highs by leaning in and sucking on the mark he'd left behind earlier that evening, letting his moan buzz and fizzle on your skin.

you feel dazed and tired, arms never letting go of him, legs unwilling to unwrap from his waist as you cling to him. he rolls you both onto your sides, caressing your body sweetly and stroking your hair, mumbling questions and concerns that you can't register, nodding to everything in a blur. the weight of him feels good, his body warm and solid against your back, and once again that feeling of safety, that feeling of complete trust, washes over you. it makes you feel whole even as he pulls out of you with a wince, discarding the condom in the trash by your bedside.

you cling to him, and he knows you need it — so he doesn't let you go, heavy hands patting your back clumsily, slightly rough and out of rhythm, just like the way your heart beats against your ribcage.

when he feels your arms loosen, relaxing finally after the high of hormones and adrenaline, he slips away quickly to the bathroom, putting on his underwear as he goes. he grabs a towel, turning your tap on to warm water and checking the temperature with his wrist as he washes his hands, his face, cleaning himself up. running the towel under the water and squeezing it dry in the sink. his movements methodical, as he slips out of your room and into the kitchen, looking around for a glass of water.

he immediately races back the moment he hears a sound from your bedroom, shutting the door behind him just as you sit up, your expression clearing once you see him again. pulling his shirt from where it's discarded on the floor, he slides into bed, kissing you on the cheek.

he cleans you up with soft strokes, the warm towel soothing on your skin even though he hadn't really been rough. he makes you drink from the glass of water, watching you drain it carefully. finally, slipping his large shirt over your frame, swallowing at the way it envelopes your body, a feeling stirring in his gut that he ignores.

"y/n? are you with me?" when you don't respond, wide eyes looking up at him, he touches his fingers to your cheek. "baby?"

each brush of his skin against yours felt like trails of fire, lingering warmth even after he pulls away. every look he gave you through his lashes, the slight pout to his lips when he broke away from a kiss, made you feel like you were caught in a riptide, your pulse out of your control. you wanted to crawl into him and make a home in his chest. you never wanted him to look at you again with his shuttered eyes, to have to dream yourself into the skin of someone else as he touched them.

you had to tell him. "haechan…haechan i…" you reach for him, and he pulls you into his embrace, shushing you softly. you try to speak again, lips parting, but he envelopes your lips in a gentle kiss, nipping at your mouth each time you part, swallowing all your sounds with the sweep of his tongue.

"princess…" his voice sounds raw, and coarse. "don't say anything you don't mean."

"but-"

"you don't know me." was it regret in his voice, or your wishful thinking? "you don't know me at all. what you're feeling right now…" he touches a hand to your chest, brushing a kiss on your cheek. "it's because of the sex, alright?"

you shake your head.

your next words come out slurred, your eyelids starting to droop as sleep begins to tug at your mind, threatening to pull you under. "but…why can't i know you?"

he takes a deep breath. "i don't want you to."

"but i don't want this to end."

he holds you tighter against his chest at your words.

"this?" he questions, quietly. he keeps his voice light, but it still pierces your heart like a shard of glass. "there isn't a 'this' princess. this isn't happening again."

"why?"

"i don't want you to get attached." he cradles you even more carefully against him, freckling mellow kisses onto your forehead, the contrast between his words and his actions ringing dissonant in your ears. "besides… why would i spend the night with the same girl twice, hm?"

sleep softens the hurt from the words he's saying. his voice fades slightly, his touch against your skin roaring ever louder in your ears. "you know i won't be here when you wake up, right?" his fingers brush against your forehead lightly, pushing hair away from your eyes.

you knew.

but you still cried in the morning all the same — the golden-orange sunrise beautiful and terribly cruel, just like the boy you were perhaps falling in love with.

—

you spend the weekend alone.

you spend the weekend wondering if haechan thought of you at all, after he left. thinking if what he said was real, and it was just adrenaline and lust, then why did your heart ache at the thought of him? at his face on posters outside the small concert venue, inviting you to a show next week? why did you always turn at the slightest hint of his voice?

you try to forget him. you try to tell yourself he wasn't worth it. but deep down all of it, a part of you still hopes, which is perhaps why you were letting jaemin drag you past the poster of haechan, into the alleyway that led backstage.

"are you sure you need me there?" you pull at jaemin's sleeve, your other hand holding onto his spare camera carefully as he guides you into the venue.

"i do," he insists, pushing through a set of doors leading to the stage. "mark wants extra photos for their social media page and i can't be doing all of that at once."

you can hear the boys talking just around one of the curtains, sprawled out onstage, a cacophany of sounds as they absentmindedly plucked at their instruments. you were going to see haechan again. you can't tell if it makes you want to run towards them, or go back home. that familiar sense of hope, the kind you experienced in the crowd that first night, on the balcony, in the bedroom and in the moonlight, fills you up slowly, sweet and light. maybe, if he just saw you again…

"y/n-" jaemin puts a hand on your arm, stopping you gently before you could rush onto stage.

"yes?" you prompt.

"i know i dragged you here, but if you're feeling uncomfortable," he starts, and you start to slip away, but he only tightens his grip. "let me finish — if you're feeling uncomfortable, or if any of them are hurting you, let me know okay?"

you hadn't told him about haechan, something close to shame seeming to rise up and choke you whenever you tried to bring it up. all jaemin knew was that the last two times you had come into contact with the band it had upset you badly, and as your best friend and roommate he never wanted to see you crying on the balcony again.

"what would you do? beat them up?"

"i would leave." his serious tone doesn't change, unaffected by your attempt to lighten the mood.

"but the money –"

"no job is more important than you being okay," he insists. "i don't want to work for them if they hurt you. okay?"

"okay."

even though he looks unconvinced, his grip on your arm loosens and he takes your hand instead, pulling back the curtain with his other.

you can hear him say something to mark about today's shoot, hear him greet the rest of the members. you guess that mark is rising to greet him, hear something like jisung and jeno standing too, but everything fades to white noise when the sight you're looking at clicks in your mind, the one member of the band who's voice you hadn't heard, who hadn't bothered to turn around at jaemin's arrival.

or rather, the one boy who was too pre-occupied to — considering he had his tongue in a pretty girl's mouth.

haechan was facing away from you, away from the rest of his bandmates, you could really only see his broad back under his denim jacket, but the careful tilt of his head as he kissed her was all too familiar, as was the movement of his arms around her waist. and when she shifted in his lap, his hands pulling her hips down unto his, you can feel your heartbeat in your ears, a sharp pain searing at your chest in emotions you couldn't pinpoint.

"fuck, sorry about that –" mark's voice is flustered, and now a tall boy, the bassist, jisung, is stepping in front of you, blocking your view of him.

"sorry," he echoes, and you're momentarily caught off guard by how deep his voice is - husky and quiet. you blink up at him, fog slowly clearing in your mind, and he smiles shyly. "he doesn't usually do that."

"who?"

"um, haechan…" he looks back briefly, and you see haechan helping the girl to her feet, her body crumpled into his like she couldn't bear to be separated from his touch. you feel a wave of second-hand shame again – was that what you had looked like?

and then jisung turns back to you, towering over you again and blocking everything from view. "he usually only does this after the show, but today…"

"it's fine," you say, faintly.

jisung looks at you, carefully. "you're jaemin's friend y/n, right?"

you nod, half your mind still on what could be going on right now. behind jisung, you see mark pull haechan, now alone, towards a corner of the stage, whispering angrily at him. haechan is slouched lazily, picking at his nails with all the look of someone who couldn't care less about what was going on.

"i saw you at our last show," jisung continues. "i was going to…i was going…" he breaks off, a little embarrassed, fumbling with his words. "are you sure you're okay?"

"i'm fine, jisung." you repeat, your voice a little more firm, as you finally look back at him.

he blinks. "you know me?"

jisung still looked worried, but there was something sweet about the way he shrunk a little under your attention, eyes darting all over your face and around his surroundings, blush tinging his cheeks.

this you were comfortable with – something completely different from the way haechan's eyes always tried to drink you in, or the way your vision would go blurry at the edges when he would stand in front of you. talking with jisung was easy, the confidence that haechan drained from you seeping back and settling in.

he had meant it, when he said you shouldn't get attached. you just had to learn it before it brought you more hurt you couldn't justify.

"jisung," you emphasise. "of course i know you. you play bass, right?"

"y-yeah," he stammers, pointing unecessarily at his dark blue bass guitar on its stand. "i don't know, i guess i always thought people didn't really know me even if they knew the band." he fiddles with the hem of his shirt, black hair falling over his eyes. "people usually choose to stand where haechan or mark are."

"you usually stand on the left?"

he nods, bashfully, and a smile tugs at your lips.

"i'll make sure to stand there, later during the show."

"wow, okay." he pauses for a moment, steeling himself. "how about after?"

"what do you mean?"

"would you want to meet…after the show?" he hesitates, voice soft.

your brow furrows slightly. "do you mean the party?"

"we don't have to go," he blurts out. "i don't mean…i don't mean like what haechan usually does after the show."

his name is an unwelcome sting, but the way jisung sneaks glances up at you from where he looks down at his feet makes it a little easier to forget. "then what do you want to do?"

"w-we can get something to eat." he says it like he just suggested robbing a bank.

oh. "like a date?"

mortified, his lips part, and you can tell that he's frantically trying to read your tone, trying to figure out if the idea of it made you uncomfortable, whether you were suggesting because you wanted it. it's so endearing, watching him start his sentences and stop them, the hem of his shirt crumpled and worn out by his nervous fingers.

eventually, he takes a deep breath, and settles for a question. "d-do you mind if it's a date?"

did you?

was there any hope in waiting for haechan, when he had made it so clear that you would never have him again?

jisung is still looking at you like you have all the power in the world to hurt him.

"i don't mind," you say, softly, feeling a hum of satisfaction in your chest at the way it makes his lips part in blissful surprise. a beat. "do you want it to be…?"

"yes," he blurts out. "please," he adds, shyly.

the awkward silence between the two of you feels good, the lightness of it familiar and giddy, like a schoolgirl crush. jisung can't stop smiling, biting his lips slightly as he turns to face mark, who's crossed to the front of the stage to speak to them.

" — jisung, jaemin will start with your photos first. we'll just be shooting the rehearsal process today, so there's no need to-" he breaks off, brow furrowing. "jisung why are you so red?"

"i-it's w-warm in here."

"well you should cool off before jaemin takes your photos." jisung nods, flustered, and he walks offstage with jaemin to prepare. jeno too, strolls away with a wave to mark, leaving him alone at the front of the stage.

with you.

mark glances over at you, his eyes darting over your face, trying to read your expression. you can almost hear haechan's voice from that night, the ghost of the hurt still palpable in your bones. but the moment you take a step back, thinking that you should find jaemin and jisung, mark seems to have made up his mind — his face set, he starts to walk over to you, and you find your own footsteps falter.

"um, y/n, can i speak to you for a second?"

you take a deep breath. "is this about the photos for later?"

"no…not exactly." he clears his throat. there's a pause, as he seems to pick his words. "y/n, did i do something wrong?"

you blink at him. "what do you mean?"

"i mean, i know it was a while ago, but i thought we were getting along fine at the party," it feels like he's rehearsed this to some capacity, or perhaps it was just the confidence of being a lead singer. "but then since then every time i saw you…i feel like you've been avoiding me."

"i haven't been avoiding you." you take a deep breath. "mark, do you have a girlfriend?"

his eyes widen. "are you…are you asking me out?"

"what?" you balk. "no!"

"oh." his face falls. "i mean…i just thought…"

"that's just too bad, markie."

it’s practically deja vu.

haechan stands behind you, his body radiating warmth, and you inhale sharply. surprisingly, he doesn't smell saccharine, the way he always does with the girls he chooses — his skin smells like baby powder and fresh linen. your body is doing that thing again – where you hone in on his presence and the whole world dissolves, and you're hyper attuned to the way his arm hovers near yours, his breath on the back of your neck. anything you were about to say to mark completely lost in your brain.

exasperated, mark runs his hand through his hair. "haechan…don't be difficult."

"i'm not." you feel almost numb when his hand touches your elbow, sliding down to hold your hand tight in his grip. "y/n and i have to talk about something."

"can't it wait?"

"it's urgent," haechan says, sarcastically, giving you a sharp tug towards him. your feet stumble as haechan starts to walk off, and you turn one last time to see mark standing there, looking a little forlorn, suddenly small under the bright lights of the stage.

"sorry, –" you mumble out. mark frowns, starting towards you.

but now haechan really pulls you along, yanking curtains aside and accessing a short flight of stairs. you can feel the intensity of his emotions radiating off him in waves, making it a little hard to breathe as you try to keep up, afraid of what he'll say if your hand slips from his grasp.

he guides you along a corridor and through a doorway, stepping into the warm light of a dressing room, the door slamming shut behind you as haechan pulls you in.

you're almost afraid to look at him, but you do anyway.

he's slightly breathless from the walk down, stooping slightly to lock the door with careful hands. when he straightens and steps towards you, the lights hitting his features, you can see that he's covered up the hickeys on his neck with makeup. something mark made him do, no doubt.

"haechan -"

"park jisung? really?" he sneers, backing you into the dressing table.

"what?"

"don't lie to me," he demands. "i saw you."

"really?" you fold your arms across your chest as he moves in closer, planting both hands on the table on either side of your hips, caging you in. "you looked busy. where did she go, hm? did mark send her away, or did you?"

haechan rolls his eyes. "that's none of your business."

"jisung said you don't usually bring girls to the rehearsal," you continue, watching the way his tongue pokes into his cheek in annoyance. "what happened?"

"you two talked about me?" he demands. "what else did you do? make plans to fuck after the show?"

"i'm not a virgin anymore," you remind him, your voice laced with a warning. "i thought you only cared about my first time."

haechan groans. seeing you talk to jisung out of the corner of his eye, seeing your hands brush and his friend's head duck shyly to the side, gave him a weight on his chest which grew heavier each time he took a breath, each time he had to hear one of jisung's small laughs.

"if you want to have mediocre sex then i couldn't care less," he snaps. "just know that you're going to have to fuck a lot of people before you forget me."

you can see that you're losing him, the familiar closed-off look coming back to his face, anger dissapating into indifference.

"what is there to forget?" you ask, hurt and anger making your voice shake.

haechan is staring at you, his face now so close to yours if you leaned in just slightly your lips would brush.

"you don't mean that," he says, quietly.

and just like that, all the fight drains out of you.

"haechan, jisung just wants to take me out on a date." his features tense, and he bites his lower lip harshly. "would you ever ask me out on a date, haechan?"

he doesn't respond.

"would you?"

"i told you," he breathes. "i don't do that."

"you told me you didn't want to be my first time, and you took it back," you remind him, quietly.

"that's different." you can't help the disappointment that wells up inside you, and you know he can see it from the way his face falls too.

"don't look at me like that, princess." he sinks into your touch easily, warmth once again circling your body.

you don't know if you wished haechan was a liar, or if you wished he wasn't. if he was telling the truth about everything, it would be easier to let go of him, to walk away from someone who could only cause you pain, from someone who played with you over and over again.

but maybe if he was lying it would all make sense – the way he said he didn't want you and yet kept showing up, the jealousy and the conflict in his voice, all of it would have some sort of plausible reason, one that would mean that maybe he cared for you.

"i don't want to do this anymore," you mumble, hands placed on his chest. you only push at him lightly, but he backs off all the way to the opposite wall, your words feeling like salt in his wounds. "i can't do this with you, haechan."

"y/n-"

"you have a show soon," you mumble, turning around to look in the mirror. you comb your hair with your fingers, trying to calm yourself down. behind you, haechan's eyes flash with frustration, his jaw clenched and his eyebrows drawn together as he looks up at your reflection.

"i'm trying to talk to you."

"are you?" it's a genuine question, and it makes him falter, a response half-formed on his lips. when it's clear he won't finish his thought, you close your eyes.

"you need to go," you say again, quietly.

"will you be there?"

you don’t respond, and he repeats himself, urgently.

"will you be there? at the show?"

"i will," you say, hesitantly.

"i'll see you then." his voice is controlled, and steady. somehow it feels like the calm before the storm.

but before you can turn around to try to talk to him, persuade him to calm down, ask him what's wrong, he's already left the room, the sound of his heeled boots echoing down the hall.

—

"is everything okay?"

"why are they taking so long?"

"are they late?"

unease settles in the pit of your stomach as you stand in the crowd, the voices all around you whispering anxiously. it had been 15 minutes since the show was scheduled to start — but the lights on the stage were dim, and the pre-show playlist had just restarted for the second time. you had situated yourself on the left side of the stage, where jisung usually stood, and you bounced on your toes, hoping that everything was alright backstage so jisung could come out and see that you had kept your promise.

and then there's a low rumble, as lights finally flood the venue, the crowd sighing with relief as jeno and mark appear – jeno waving at the crowd, his drumsticks in one hand, while mark smiles reassuringly, walking over to the mic and checking that it's at the correct height. he apologizes lightly for the delay, looking to the side of the stage nervously as he murmurs a quick introduction of the band into the mic.

haechan strides onto stage, electric guitar slung around his neck, as the crowd's screams reach an all-time high. he stops abruptly at the left side of the stage, right in front of where you stood, nodding at the crowd and cocking his head from side to side, as if preparing for a fight. he keeps his face level as his eyes find yours, that same burning intensity you felt in the dressing room unwavering as he held your gaze.

and then jisung appears, footsteps faltering where haechan stood, the grip on his bass going slack.

"haechan." jisung's voice is soft, you can barely hear it from where you stand so close to the stage. you can tell that the crowd behind has no clue what's going on, but some fans are looking at each other confusedly, pointing at the two boys, and the position on mark's left where haechan usually stood, now empty.

"yes?" haechan's not looking at jisung, fingers running phantom chords up and down the fret board.

"w-why are you standing here?" jisung whispered, embarrassment evident in his tone. "aren't you supposed to be on mark's left?"

haechan's eyes briefly flick up to yours. "not today."

distressed, jisung makes a sound. "haechan." guilt fills up your lungs like smoke, making it difficult to breathe, a twist in your chest as jisung looks over at you, lost.

"run along, jisung," haechan murmurs, softly. "don't want to keep the fans waiting."

mark, not wanting to draw attention to them, keeps smiling at the crowd, starting to ask them a few questions. jisung only tries a few more times, haechan resolutely ignoring him, before finally accepting defeat, casting his eyes over to you — his gaze wounded and confused, as he walks off with his bass. he assumes haechan's position, and the crowd cheers encouragingly. the boy manages a smile.

when mark starts to introduce the first song, haechan finally looks up, a faint smile playing on his lips as his eyes lock with yours again. just like the day you met.

and just like the day you met, you felt yourself fall under his spell, yet again.

—

"haechan, i think we —" you gasp out, in between the kisses that haechan is pressing to your lips.

he gives a non-committal hum, his legs framing your body as he holds you close to his chest. his lips are warm and soft, tasting slightly of cherries, as he opens you up little by little, chaste kisses turning into open-mouthed ones, his tongue darting out and gently licking into your mouth in a way that was intoxicating.

you grip onto his arm harshly, trying to ground yourself, and he inhales sharply, breaking away.

"haechan –" you pant. "we should-"

but then he's kissing you again, smothering your words with his lips and his tongue. his hands rub at your lower back, guiding your movements as you shift against him, his hips grinding upwards almost lazily.

"jisung, –" you start, but now he gives a groan, rumbling through his chest almost like a roar. slumped back against the car door, he glares at you, touching the corner of his wet mouth with his thumb.

"you did not just fucking say my bandmates name while you're on me."

"we should apologize to jisung," your words come out in a rush.

"for?" he catches the look on your face, and rolls his eyes. "fine," he mumbles. "i'll talk to him." leaning up towards you, he starts to pepper kisses down your jaw, sucking a little harder on the mark he had left before. "kiss me?" he mumbles, and you have to stop yourself from caving in.

"haechan," you press on, as haechan licks boldly at your collarbone. "haechan –"

"keep saying my name," he murmurs, hands roaming up your shirt, teasing over the clasp of your bra.

"mark, —"

"fuck." breaking away agian, haechan tips his head back, lips stretched out and puffy as he tongued his cheek. "you want me jealous princess? is that it? because it's fucking working –"

"haechan, we keep hurting people." you place both hands on his chest, trying to calm him down.

"what?"

"today we hurt mark too. although, i don't really know why–" you break off, thinking about how he looked as he tried to follow after you and haechan. how jisung's cheeks burned red as he walked across the stage. "haechan, they're your friends."

"you wanna hurt jeno too?" he raises his eyebrows, his own hands now mindlessly scraping against yours. "you can lead him on, and then we can fuck while he watches. although he'll probably like that –"

again, he takes in the way you frown. "fine. sorry. jeez."

"i don't want to hurt people because of us," you say, softly.

"well," he exhales. "they're only hurt because they can't have you, princess." he tucks your hair behind your ear from where its come loose. "there's nothing we can do, hm?"

you shake your head. "you're not being fair," you whisper.

"how so?" his hands slide down. there's something possessive in the drag of his palms, the way he squeezes your waist.

"you don't call me yours…but you also don't let them near me." your voice is small, but it rings loud in the silence of the car all the same. the streets outside were empty and deserted, and you think you can hear your heart beating in the still air as your palms stay pressed on his firm chest. "haechan…i need you to choose."

it's a long time before haechan responds. he's tired from the show and all the adrenaline, you can feel it in his slow breathing, in the way his eyes blink slowly up at you like an afterthought. but his eyes are what give it away – his gaze is sharp and calculative as his eyes roam your body, his touches not quite as drowsy as he appears, fingers tingling against skin.

you wait, your heart in your throat. you wait and you hope.

his full lips part, his eyes meeting yours.

"so…this is our last time together?"

of course that's his choice. the disappointment spreads like cold, an ache deep in your bones. "if that's what you choose." your voice is flimsy. "haechan, —" but nothing leaves your mouth, just a wounded sound. everything rushing up inside you like a waves breaking over the shore, memories flooding your senses.

the hurt on mark's face. haechan's hands on your skin. the blush that burned at jisung's skin as he watched haechan pull you to his car, his figure growing smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror. haechan's lips against your ear as he held you.

"shhh," his arms hold you against his chest, smoothing down your spine as he comforts you as if you were a baby, you clinging on tight to him as if he were going to disappear. "it's okay," he murmurs. "we'll just have to make it count, hm?" gently, he guides your face out of his chest, relieved when he realizes that you're not crying yet, at least. kissing your cheek gently, he brushes his thumb against the apples of your cheeks. "are you alright? do you want me to take you home?"

"s-stop it." you manage to steady your breathing enough to repeat yourself. "stop being gentle with me, haechan. stop leading me on."

"stop getting hurt," he replies, a little teasing, but his tone aches.

"kiss me?"

this time you do, letting him guide your movements, as he pulls you down into his body as if he were trying to pull you all the way through him.

his kisses are slow and sweet, tilting his head almost shyly, the tip of his nose bumping against yours as he leans up into you. his tongue carefully slides over your bottom lip, before he's nudging your lips apart with his own again, tongue gently moving over yours, pulling away with a small smile when you chase after him, tongue stuck out slightly, chasing the warmth of his mouth.

"cute," he mumbles, and you pull your shirt up over your head just so he won't see the way your cheeks burn in the dark.

his movements become a little more urgent as he unclasps your bra, letting it slide to the floor of his car as he surges towards you. his lips begin to suck marks onto your chest, hands now squeezing your soft breasts, mapping your body indulgently. his tongue licks slowly around your right nipple, before giving it a gentle flick with his tongue, your body shifting restlessly against him as it sends a wave of arousal down to your core. he hugs you against him to steady your movements, lapping at your nipples and guiding each roll of your hips down into his.

your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him away from you. before you can tell him to stop teasing, he's kissed you again — placating. sweet like he knew everything you were about to say, before you even said it.

you raise your hips as his hands smooth over the pleats of your skirt, before flipping the soft material upwards. you hadn't worn anything special, not having the courage to, but the way he looked at your simple white panties, thumb running carefully over the pink bow in the middle of the waistband, made you feel warm all over. you hurry to pull them off, just to break the moment, but he catches them right before you tug them off your ankle.

"can i keep these?" his doe-eyes blink up at you. you can see the brown in his irises, almost gold in the light. you nod, and he lets out a laugh, kissing you through his smile as his fingers wander up your thighs.

he starts with slow circles on your clit, stroking the nub gently, feeling the way your hips shift at the feeling. when he speeds up his motions, fingers teasing along your slit and catching at your entrance a few times, your hips begin to pick up a steady rhythm, rocking into his hand.

"do you just want to cum like this?" he asks kindly, placing a bit more pressure on the tips of his fingers. he wants to be inside you badly, his erection almost painful from the lack of contact, but he knew that it might do more for him than it did for you.

this was how he wanted you to be taken care of for your first time, for your second time — this is why he didn't want you to slip away from him into rooms with men who wouldn't know what you needed, wouldn't care what you wanted.

or at least — it's what he tells himself to keep him sane.

"'m close," you mumble, your movements uncoordinated, neediness driving your hips into his hand, pleasure that you didn't quite know how to handle. "feels so empty, haechan, please –"

he slows down his movements, a hand sliding over your waist to rub at your lower back, eliciting a warm sound from you that radiates into his chest. he slides a finger into your tight entrance, feeling the way you tense around him, slowly slipping the finger in and out, curling against your walls carefully. his thumb comes up to press your clit, and you inhale sharply as the pressure in your abdomen builds.

"more…"

"baby, you're doing so well," he praises. freckling careful kisses on your neck to distract you, you feel another finger catch against your entrance, his hand breaking its rhythm to carefully slide in, stretching your hole out even more. with a lewd suck on the base of your neck, he curls both fingers against your walls, a slick finger slipping on your clit, and you feel yourself crash headfirst into your high, thighs clamping around his hand in sensitivity as you moan. he murmurs praises against your ear, kissing your jaw sweetly between each one.

he removes his hand from your core with a wet sound, and you drop down into his lap, feeling weak at the knees even though you weren't standing. he lets out a groan, feeling your wetness and warmth through his jeans, and he can feel his cock twitch under the fabric. but still, he waits until your breathing evens out, using his cleaner hand to stroke at your sides, humming lightly under his breath, the reassuring sound filling the car. his breaths sync with yours as you come down from your high, and together you let out a shaky exhale.

"do you mind?" he asks, quietly, hands going to his belt slowly, trying not to startle you. "we don't have to have sex. i just really need to take care of this now…" you nod, flustered, crawling backwards down his legs, and he leans forward to kiss the crown of your hair. against the soft sounds of your breathing, the sound of him unbuckling his belt, letting it drop into the shadows, and the rustle of fabric as he tugged his jeans and underwear down as much as he could, were endlessly arousing. you felt yourself begin to pulse with need again, your thighs squeezing together when he pulls out his cock, thick and heavy against his palm, the tip blushy and leaking.

he gives himself a tentative stroke, spreading pre-cum over his length before squeezing the base and hissing at the feeling as he tries to stop from cumming too soon. as if in a trance, you reach out towards him, your hand curiously wrapping around his shaft. he groans, low, as you give him a tentative stroke, although the sound is cut off by a high whimper when your fingers rub the head of his cock, silky under your fingertips.

"baby, you don't have to –" he's cut off by another moan as you squeeze his length, applying more pressure as you stroke. "fuck, jus' like that," he mumbles, weakly, as you twist your wrist a little on a downstroke, palm slippery with pre-cum. after a few more strokes, watching haechan's head loll this way and that, twisting with pleasure, you pay more attention to his tip, thumbing just under it, fingers rubbing his slit. haechan's hips are restless, thrusting into your hand, his body shaking and the muscles on his abdomen clenched tight. you give him a few more strokes, and his whines fill up the car, raspy and sinful in a way that made you crave him even more.

mimicking his movements, you slide your hand back down to his base and squeeze. he blinks hazily up at you, lips still parted, panting breathlessly.

"baby…"

"i need you," your voice feels broken, desire pulsing through each syllable. "please haechan," you add, as he swallows harshly, his cock twitching slightly against the warmth of your hand.

pulling you towards him, he kisses you again, fingers wandering down to your heat and stroking your folds. "so wet from touching me, baby?" he teases, smiling against your lips as he slips a finger in, and then another, your walls sucking him in easily. he finds your soft spot immediately, your thighs shaking around his hand as you whine. it's a sound embarrassing to your own ears, but it's like music to haechan's ears, as he lets out a low groan.

"it's too bad it's your last time with me," he murmurs, lightly, as he takes a condom out from the glove compartment, his hands moving swiftly as he tears open the package and rolls it onto his cock. "i would love to record your pretty sounds…" your voice lets out another small whimper, as if proving him right, as he adjusts you on his lap so the head of his cock lines up with your entrance. slowly, you sink down on him, clutching onto his body for support as you feel him fill you up tightly.

"breathe," he coaxes, letting his own head sink back against the seats, the hazy feeling of you wet and warm around him intensifying as you take all of him inside you. he continues on, trying to distract you by peppering gentle kisses all over your cheeks. "would you like to hear your voice in a song, sweetheart? all the girls in the crowd wondering who's pretty voice is on the track, wondering who's making her feel this good…" he hisses, when he feels you pulse around him. "you want that?"

your lips part, stuttering out jumbles of half-sentences, yes-es and nos. "'m just teasing, baby," he coos, as he thrusts his hips upwards experimentally, bouncing you on his lap. you lean into his body, feeling muscle firm under your palms as you raise your hips and grind against him, sensitivity making your thighs shake as the movement stimulates your clit.

responding to your need, his arm loops around your waist while his fingers wander towards your clit, stroking and rubbing it expertly as he continues to thrust up into you, the car jolting with his movements. his strong thighs tense as he moves, barely pulling out before stuffing himself into you again, your walls kneading his length in a way that makes his body feel hot with need, chasing his climax. your soft sounds each time his tip grazes your soft spot are an aphrodisiac, and he feels himself growing impossibly harder inside you, so aroused it almost hurts.

"haechan, i'm cumming," you moan, and his fingers put more pressure on your clit, as you bounce on him, eager for release.

"keep saying my name," he breathes, pulling you close, your bodies moving frantic and unsteady against each other, as you cum, mouthing his name against his skin. he empties himself into the condom soon after, hips still jolting as he helps you ride out the aftershocks of your climax, your breaths echoing loud in the car.

you almost wanted to ask for round 2 — and you were sure he would give it to you, if you had asked. instead you stay silent, feeling emptier than ever as he pulls out, your body draining of his warmth as he cleans you with wipes from his glove compartment, kissing you sweetly whenever your eyes met. the water bottle he procured from the passenger seat of the car making you wonder if this was his plan all along, as you sipped quietly, as he put your address in his phone to take you home.

—

you can feel him slip away from you on the drive back.

a sea of red and green lights move across the planes of his face as you watch him drive, one hand on the wheel and the other touching your hand softly on the centre console. you give his fingers a faint squeeze and he smiles, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing a light kiss to your fingertips.

when you reach the next intersection, he pulls his hand from yours and puts it back on the steering wheel.

when he makes his next turn, his shoulders start to tense and the easy, relaxed expression on his face morphs into a stony one.

and when he finally pulls up in front of your apartment building, turning to face you, the glowing streetlights illuminating the outlines of his face do nothing to soften the blow of seeing him like this again — looking at you with half-lidded eyes, almost lazy in his power.

"are you coming to the next show?"

"i want to," you respond, your voice small. "...should i?"

"it doesn't really matter to me." his fingers tap against the wheel, restlessly. "i just hope you know you shouldn't wait around afterwards."

you bite your lip. "i know."

he nods. "so you know this is over?"

"i know."

"good girl." it feels like a punch to the stomach, and you inhale, sharply, hands gripping the handle of the car door. waiting for him to dismiss you, as he always did.

but then he's speaking again, breaking the silence. his voice is softer, a little more hesitant – "do you need me to walk you up?" he's not looking at you, eyes trained on his dashboard. "will you be okay?"

it's cruel, the way your heart stutters in your chest. you take one last look at him, trying to memorize everything — the sharp line of his jaw, his collarbones, the joints of his fingers, the way his pinky finger crooks slightly to the right. the faint smell of vanilla and something darker, mixed with his warmth. you try to memorize it because you're sure this is the last time you'll be so close to him again, both in proximity, and in the way his voice aches with something close to tenderness. in that moment, you know if you told him you needed him, he would turn off the engine and open your car door, holding you safe against his chest and walking you up to your apartment. but what for? for him to shut off on the way up the elevator, and turn into a stranger at your door?

"it's fine," you murmur, and you don't wait for a response before stepping out into the warm night.

—

your ribs press against the barrier, and you wince slightly. the crowd screams loud in your ear, as the boy in front of you looks up from his guitar at the crowd in front of him, dark gaze sliding over faces, tongue poking at his cheek and puffy lips stretched.

his eyes briefly meet yours, and your heart skips a beat.

and then he's looking back down at his guitar again, lips pursed in concentration.

the next time he glances up, the familiar glint is back, eyebrows drawn together. there was something strange about the way he was looking at you, not exactly meeting your eyes. was he looking at your clothes? your hair? or…

"oh my god!"

you shoot a brief glance back, at the girl who's just let out a squeal. she claps her hands over her mouth, eyes shining as she stares adoringly at haechan, unblinking. you don't have to check to know he's staring right back — you know the look on her face a little too well.

the disappointment and jealousy weighing on your chest is entirely unjustified, but you feel it heavy in your bones, anyway.

he had meant every word: it was truly over.

–

"did anyone see you?"

"no," you whimper, as he mouths over the seat of your panties, tongue lapping at your folds through the fabric.

"good girl," he pants, letting out a satisfied groan when he tugs them down your legs, burying his face in between your legs with a lewd moan.

but if it was truly over, why did he find you after the show last week, – slipping by you to tell you to meet him in the upstairs master bedroom, where he fingered you open in front of the mirror?

if it was truly over, why did a stagehand stop you from leaving after the next show you went to, passing you a note that told you to wait at the back entrance of the venue?

"fuck fuck fuck-"

and if it was truly over, why was he currently in between your spread legs, his mouth and chin covered with your juices as you lay on his bed?

"need you now, princess." his fingers brush your clit, and your thighs shake with overstimulation. "are you okay? i can wait-"

"don't wait," you plead, pulling him towards you. he follows, propping himself up on his arms as his face reaches yours, his lips gently nudging your own apart, letting you taste yourself on his tongue when he kisses you. his sticky hands stroke your sides, leaving trails on your skin. "haechan –"

he interrupts you with another kiss. freckling more kisses down your neck, he smiles against the mark he left days ago, fading slightly now. "i missed this," he murmurs, and your heart stings, a collection of memories surfacing in your mind – of his eyes avoiding yours at shows. of him waiting onstage for someone else. of him smiling at you cordially, face blank as if he were greeting you for the first time when he talked to you in front of other fans.

"did you really?"

he doesn't respond, latching his lips to your skin with a hum, hands cupping your breasts in one swift motion, fingers teasing over your nipples and making your body arch into his touch.

"haechan…"

"what do you want, princess?" he wanders lower, licking at your cleavage. your mind threatens to blank when he circles a fingertip around your areola, puffy wet lips closing around a nipple and sucking wetly. "hm?"

"want you to fuck me…" your voice is shaky, but you press on. "like how you were gonna fuck that girl."

his hands still for just a brief second. you can see your words hit him, understanding and lust flickering in his responding laugh. he focuses his eyes back on your face, hands now coming up to brush your lips, caressing your cheek, smoothing over your skin almost lovingly.

this is how he was going to fuck her?

"open up," he murmurs, fingers pressed to your bottom lip. as if stuck in a trance, your lips part.

a wet mess of saliva, still mixed with traces of your arousal, drips down from his tongue into your mouth, connecting your lips with his in a glossy sheen. his lips tug into a smile as he sees your blown-out pupils, arousal completely overriding his every thought.

his fingers trace your jaw. "swallow," he commands, sweetly, and as always you do exactly as he says.

you feel something shift against your upper thigh, your hips rising on instinct to buck against his hard length, still trapped behind his ripped jeans.

his low groan is interrupted by a sharp rattling of the doorknob, followed by a thud against the door. both of you still, eyes focused on the locked door, straining your ears to hear the voices outside.

"are you sure no one saw you?" haechan asks, quietly. "did jisung see you? mark? jeno?"

"i don't think so," you mumble.

that was the arrangement you had come up with a little over a week ago, discussed in heated kisses and bliss-induced haze. you could keep seeing haechan, as long as you never saw the rest of the band again. on nights when he knew he wanted you, you would slip through crowds like a ghost to make your way into warm beds and cold bathrooms, saving him from the jealousy, and saving you from the questions.

of course, there were a few nights where no message would find you, where he wouldn't grab your wrist as you brushed past him in a hallway, his hands distracted with someone else. those nights used to make you cry, your entire being aching for his attention, his indifference just as bruising as his care.

the doorknob rattles again, and there's a knock on the door.

"haechan? are you in there?"

mark's voice.

"they're back early from the party," haechan mumbled. to your shock, he ignores them and tugs off his shirt roughly, revealing delicate tanned skin dotted with moles, looking soft-to-touch.

"haechan," mark's voice is exasperated. "i thought we agreed not to bring girls to our apartment."

haechan rolls his eyes as his hands go to his belt, ridding himself of his pants and underwear. you can see the muscles in his thighs tense as he makes his way up the bed, hands holding your hips.

"you wanted me to fuck you like the other girls?" he murmurs, low so only you can hear. "well. on your knees."

"but mark is –" you break off, seeing the way his eyes narrow, something dangerous flickering in his pupils. "but…but they're outside," you whisper. as if to prove your point, mark bangs on the door again.

and then jisung's voice, low and urgent comes through the door. "who is he even with? the girl he left the show with was alone when i saw her."

"god, are they all outside the door?" haechan grumbles, focusing his attention back on you when you let out a small sound of distress. "forget about them," he soothes, leaning in to kiss you on the lips. his mouth moves over yours searingly, possessive and all-consuming in the way he pushes his tongue into your mouth. "on your knees," he commands, quietly, against your mouth. "i won't ask again."

a thrill runs down your spine as you flip over, his large hands adjusting you so your back arches, head pressed into the pillows as he holds your hips up. he presses a kiss to your back as he reaches off the bed for a condom, rolling it onto his hard length with a soft groan. you look over your shoulder, see him stroking himself, mouth hanging open.

"hurry," you plead. you can feel slick on your thighs from the way he ate you out earlier, growing wetter from anticipation. "please."

he ignores you. "can you be quiet for me?" he mumbles. outside, you can hear the boys discussing something heatedly, voices low so you can't make out the words. "don't want anyone else to hear you."

"yes," you promise, meekly.

"good girl." he lines himself up to your entrance, reaching around to rub your clit as he runs the tip of his cock against your folds. you let out a shaky breath at the feeling, trying hard not to let it catch your vocal cords.

one hand on your hip and the other stroking your lower back, he pushes in slowly, letting you adjust to his girth. you feel a sting as he stretches your walls, filling you up deeply while burying himself inside you. he murmurs for you to relax, listening to you take shallow breaths, the way your hole flutters around his length making him want to thrust forward, relieve his own ache.

"haechan, are you asleep?"

there's a sharp rap on the door, and haechan curses as it makes you tighten around him, gummy walls gripping him like a vice, as if begging for his cum.

"you liked that, baby?" his voice is low, and mocking. you whimper. "you like the idea of them coming in and seeing you like this? letting me take you like a slut?"

"haechan, we know you're in there." now it's jeno's rough voice, devoid of its usual warmth. "we saw the shoes at the door. we need to talk."

haechan pulls out until only his tip is still inside you, and slams back in aggressively, filling you to the brim. he starts to build a rhythm, thrusting deep and slow inside you, letting you feel the drag of him against your walls as he strokes your clit with his fingers. he was taking his time with you — pausing to lean forward and press kisses to your shoulders, mouthing messily over your skin.

"haechan, please -" you try to keep your voice quiet, but he chooses this time to fuck you a little harder, picking up the pace, and your mouth hangs open as your aborted whimpers turn into drawn out moans.

"hm?" he prompts, faking nonchalance. but you can feel that the pace is affecting him too, his breathing growing heavier as he speeds up a little more.

"harder," you mumble, words feeling thick and slow in your mouth. "faster. fuck,"

a bang on the door. the loud sound makes you jolt, and haechan hisses as you clench down on him harshly again, your thighs inching closer together, creating a tighter fit around his thick cock.

"i wonder why they're not coming in yet." his voice in your ear is low, sultry. the kind he uses on-stage when he's teasing the crowd.

"i-isn't the door l-locked?"

"sure…but it's a really old lock. i know mark could open it if he really wanted to. he's done it before when i'm late for rehearsals, ah fuck-" he's slamming himself into you, barely pulling out before pushing in again, wet sounds filling the room. "fuck, you must really like that. how do you just keep getting tighter and tighter, hm?"

"haech–"

"maybe i'll ask them to come in…" he muses, his tone sickly sweet. "i just know you'll cum hard on my cock when they open the door, right? let them see how filthy you are?"

"don't –", you choke.

"should i tell them not to come in?"

"no," you gasp, and he laughs, darkly.

"no, i should tell them to come in?" he asks between breathless pants, pace unrelenting as the lewd sound of skin against skin fills the room. "you want me to talk to them baby?"

you let out an incoherent mumble, no longer sure of anything.

he coos at that. "dumb already, princess?" his hand wanders up to your chest, blunt nails haphazardly scraping across your nipples. your hips push back onto him instinctively, fucking yourself onto his length, your hips chasing pleasure from the sensitivity as you cum.

"haechan, i'm not leaving until you open the door." another thud, as mark sits down.

"fuck…" haechan's only half listening to mark as he throws his head back, murmuring curses as he feels you clench around him, milking his cock. it takes all the self control he has to place his hands on your waist, stilling your movements as he pulls out of you. he's so hard that it hurts, and he knows his release is close, but he still shifts your body until you're lying on your back, and he can see your tear-streaked face, drool smeared all over your chin.

you mouth his name soundlessly, fresh waves of tears gathering on your waterline as you see him move away from you, and you try to sit up to keep him in your line of sight.

"haechan, –"

"i'm here," he murmurs, one hand immediately finding yours and squeezing, the other grappling for the water bottle on the bedside table. he unscrews the cap with one hand as he moves towards you, helping you prop yourself up against the headboard. "drink."

he holds the bottle up to your lips, but you shake your head. "want you," you whisper, even though your mouth feels warm and sticky, your throat dry from moaning. you can't focus on anything except for the emptiness inside you, your clit throbbing whenever you shift your thighs together slightly. you're focused on his hard length, the slope of his shoulders down to his slender waist. you shake your head again, knocking the bottle against your lips and spilling a little bit of the water onto the sheets.

"don't be a brat." his voice is low, a dangerous sort of patience in his tone. "drink, or i won't give you what you want."

you swallow, his voice washing over you, pulling you under. this time when he raises the bottle to your lips, you hold it with shaky hands, letting water trickle down your throat. his own hand comes up, touching two fingers to your neck gently, making sure you were drinking instead of pretending by feeling for the movement of your throat.

"done?" he watches you lick your parted lips, dewy with water and saliva, and takes the bottle from you, placing it back on the stand. "do you want to keep going?"

you nod, slowly.

"use your words," he commands, quietly.

"please don't stop," you plead, shuffling towards him. it feels like the fog has cleared slightly in your head, the water making the heat haze dissipate. vaguely, you're sure that mark, jisung, and jeno must know what you were doing – must have heard the headboard thumping against the wall, haechan's low groans and your breathless whimpers.

you wonder what mark is thinking now, outside, not leaving and yet not breaking in like haechan said he could. it sends a wave of arousal down to your core, some part of you wanting him to see the way you break for haechan, completely and wholly his. your way of rejecting him without having to see his face – your way of explaining why you ignored him whenever he caught your eyes during shows and after-parties.

haechan reads you easily, observing the way your eyes flicker to the door. he's torn between opening the door himself — letting mark see you on his bed, fucked stupid by him, or stepping outside and telling mark to leave because no one should see or hear you like this but him.

"do you want me to tell mark to leave?"

"n-no," you hesitate. "don't."

he raises his eyebrows. "why?"

"w-want him to know that i'm yours," you mumble, a hand wrapping around his thigh and squeezing.

haechan's eyes darken. “mine?” he echoes, quietly, almost gently.

you're so focused on the shift in his features – the set of his jaw, the way he tenses, that you barely notice he's sliding off the bed and picking you up effortlessly so that you cling to his upper body, legs gripping his waist. his lip curls into a smile, head tilted mockingly as he starts to walk, strong arms holding you up.

your back hits solid wood, and you gasp.

"haechan?" mark's voice is crystal clear on the other side of the door.

haechan adjusts his grip, pushing you against the door as he slides his tip along your dripping cunt, making you squirm in his hold.

"be good, hm?" he whispers, as he pushes into you, eyes squeezing shut and jaw dropping open at the feeling of your walls sucking him back in, pulsing along his length and making his cock throb. when he opens his eyes again, his gaze is unfocused, hazy, and you can see that this situation is heightening his arousal, causing his thrusts to be sloppy and unfocused as he chases his own high. each time he pushes into you, the weight of his hips snapping against yours pushes against the door, and you hear it jolt a little, the lock jiggling.

mark's shouted expletive rings against your ears, mirrored by haechan's own as he captures your lips in a kiss. the feeling is familiar and new at the same time, his tongue sliding languidly over yours, swiping against your bottom lip. at the sight of your parted mouth and wet lips, he moans again, and without hesitating he spits into your waiting mouth, sloppy and messy, causing it to dribble past your lips and down your chin.

the rhythm against the door is unmistakable, and you can hear footsteps as mark runs off. haechan laughs, a pleased hum in his chest that vibrates against your own as he leans into you, and he mouths down your neck, biting at your shoulder and letting his low groan scrape against his throat as a growl. you cum when your stiff nipples brush against his chest, the tiny bit of stimulation just enough to throw you over the edge into your orgasm, your thighs clenching around him as you sob, your core aching.

the feeling of your walls rippling around his length is too much to bear, and he barely lets you ride out your orgasm on him before he's pulling out of you and carrying you back to his bed. haechan tugs off the condom urgently as you lie there, tired and spent, watching as he strokes his length, fast, eyes fluttering open and shut with lust, his hips thrusting forward uncontrollably. his thumb ghosts just under the head of his cock, and then he's cumming all over your stomach and chest, sticky white spurts pooling on your skin.

you watch him out of half-lidded eyes as his breathing slows, collapsing next to you in a heap. the high from the sex hasn't faded yet – the consequences of being heard by all his bandmates hasn't hit you, as you bask in the temporary glow of being his.

a finger traces along the cum on your stomach, haechan transfixed by the sight. curious, your hands grab for the small mirror on his bedside table, and he comes out of his daze, handing it to you wordlessly.

in the moonlight, the marks he's made on your skin blur with the shadows. no part of you looks untouched — your tear-streaked face and kiss-swollen lips, bruises on your hips and the sting of the bite mark on your shoulder. your hands tremble a little as you focus the mirror on where his fingers play with his drying cum on your skin, tracing lines and curves.

"'m yours," you mumble out.

"yeah?" he chokes. "mine?"

dazedly, you point to your neck. "yours."

he groans, just watching you, eyes roving over your body. "you're beautiful," he whispers. you think he means it.

"more." your voice is quiet.

"no more, baby," he murmurs, looking up at you with concern. "it's too much for you."

you shake your head. "these could be from anyone," you point at the marks on your neck. his body tenses, hands stiff on your skin. "i want to be yours."

slowly, your words settle over him. he looks at you with an unreadable expression, the kind you see right before he strikes his first chord, the moment his eyes find yours in the crowd. a dark sort of determination, in the way his holds your gaze.

he reaches over, and opens a drawer. you can hear the sound of things knocking around inside as he roots his hand around, finally emerging with an eyeliner pen. through the mirror, you can see his hands splayed out over the space just under your breasts, pulling the skin over your ribcage taut. his tongue pokes out into the lower corner of his mouth as he places the tip of the pen to your skin.

he loops once. skids the pen downwards. jerks it up harshly, ending off with jagged motions, each brush trailing ink on your skin.

when he's done he leans backwards, raising his eyebrows, asking you wordlessly if this was finally enough. his signature on your body, next to the bruises and marks and last remnants of his cum on your skin.

—

"haechan?"

he doesn't respond, but a part of you expects it already – you've memorized the way he leaves.

"why didn't you fuck that girl tonight?"

he takes his time, taking a long sip from his bottle of wine. from where you lie on the bed, you can just see the broad frame of his back, his side profile as he looks out of the window and at the moon, bright in the sky, the milky glow illuminating his skin. without his makeup, he looked like just a boy – pretty features almost dainty on his face. it's his hands which break the facade, calloused and rough, with veins that make your head spin when you think about them for too long, holding the bottle up to his lips.

"didn't feel like it."

you think about his answer, blinking slowly from the sleepiness. "why did you fuck me?"

he faces forward, away from you. "felt like it."

"why?"

"i'm beginning to question that too," he replies, bluntly.

hurt aches in your bones, as silence rings loud in your ears. "if you don't want me here i can just go," you say, softly, and you're sure your voice sounds as wounded as you feel. "you've cleaned me up. i can leave if you want."

you can see him stiffen, his shoulders tensing up.

"where's jaemin?"

of course. sitting up, you wince at the ache between your legs. "he's probably asleep," you answer, bitterly. "but i can just call a cab –"

his back muscles tense, and then he's shifting from where he sits on the edge of the bed. sliding into the space next to you, he rests back against the headboard, legs stretched out over the sheets. a hand wraps around yours.

"ask me easier questions," he mumbles, turning your palm over so he can lace your fingers together, giving them a reassuring squeeze.

your breath stutters.

"what did you talk about? with the band?"

after cleaning you up and tucking you into bed, haechan had finally stalked out of the bedroom to talk to mark, jisung and jeno. he hadn't said a thing when he returned, holding a bottle of wine, placing it on the bedside table before stepping into the bathroom wordlessly to remove his makeup.

haechan blinks down slowly at your intertwined hands. "they asked me what was going on."

"what?"

"i've been losing focus," he mumbles. "during shows and during rehearsal. and jeno noticed i kept ditching girls at parties, said it wasn't like me to not be fucking around at all."

a beat.

you bite your lip. "you're…you're losing focus?"

but he just shakes his head. "they're wrong."

you can see that the topic is upsetting him, so you rush to ask another question. "do you write any of the songs that the band play?"

he raises his eyebrows. "so you care so much about the band now? does that mean you're a fan?"

he ignores your mumbled excuse, squeezing your hand again to let you know he was teasing. "mark usually writes the songs," he answers. "i don't have much to write about." and then, with a little more force, "ask me questions about me, not the band."

"what does this tattoo mean?" you place the tip of your finger just below his ribcage, where there's a small doodle of a bear paw.

"people say i look like a bear," he mumbles, a little shy. even in the moonlight, his pouty lips and round cheeks are evident, his shoulders broad as he slumps against the headboard.

"i see it," you confirm, and a smile flickers on his face.

"yeah?" he looks over at you, and his free arm loops around your shoulder, squeezing you into his side. his affection buzzes in your veins, as you try to divert his attention with another question.

"and what does this tattoo mean?" your other hand comes up again, now to trace at the sunflower peeking out from the base of his neck, trailing down to his shoulder.

he takes a deep breath. "my sister picked it."

"sister?"

"baby sister," he adds, softly. "she just turned six. this is her favorite flower."

"oh."

"why?" he tilts his head, bumping your own gently. "do i not seem like an older brother?"

"i think…" you hum, contemplating. "not when you're onstage," you decide.

"do you think i'm different? from when i'm onstage?"

"i don't know you enough to judge," you say, truthfully. aside from the sex, and from the brief moments right after when it felt like he was truly there, holding you, the haechan you knew was mostly the one flooded with stage lights, the kind of boy you had to beg to earn his attention.

haechan goes quiet, his hand on yours stilling, and you turn to look at him. tension is filling up the room, slow and thick like a fog, and you can't breathe against the weight of everything — the weight of his gaze, the almost boyish way his eyes flick down to your lips and back up to meet yours.

"do you want to?"

you bite your lip.

maybe two weeks ago your heart would have leapt, maybe you would have begged for the opportunity to have him closer.

but your body has already had time to learn disappointment, to defend yourself against his callousness and his cold, learning the art of slipping in and out of intimacies. every line crossed, every boundary blurred.

"do i want to?" you echo, and you see him falter.

maybe his own words held more weight than he'd anticipated.

"you don't?"

or maybe he was just scared to hear your answer.

"will you let me?" you reflect the question back to him. his fingers twitch against your shoulder where he's still holding you.

there were some nights where it felt as if he was taking his adrenaline out on your body, or where he was making you forget the fear of being caught by overriding your senses with pleasure. there were others when you fell so deep into a headspace, that he would care for you gently, something romantic and tender in the negative space between your bodies.

and ultimately all of these nights ended the same – the same curl of his lip, his face closed-off, his voice too steady and unfeeling.

"how would you let me know you?" it's only when he flinches when you catch the harshness to your tone, your own words leaving a bitter aftertaste in your mouth. "by barely letting things slip every night?"

"y/n…" it's not meant as a warning. your name is spoken softly, with an ache in it that makes goosebumps rise up your arms. "i thought you were fine."

"i am," you insist, feeling defensive. "i'm fine with you pretending you don't know me, or when you disappear on the drive home."

"y/n, –"

"just…don't say things if you don't mean them," you finish, mumbling your words to mute the hurt in them.

there's a long silence.

and then, his voice, so delicate and fragile, like he was afraid his words would bruise the space between him and you.

"we're playing at a bar this friday."

you make a sound of confusion, and he continues on. "it's only for a few fans who won some sort of a lucky draw. they get to talk to us and get autographs."

"i didn't enter," you cut in, but still he continues on, as if he was trying to get the words out before he lost his nerve.

"i'm inviting you now. and….and afterwards i'll leave with you and we can go to my place." he swallows. "my real apartment. not this one i share with the band." he lets out a shaky breath. "i don't… i don't usually bring girls there, if you can't tell."

"but…" the wheels in your head are turning slowly, as you try to catch up with what he's saying. "but if i'm there… and it's such a small crowd…the band is going to see that i'm there.

"they will," he confirms quietly.

"they're going to know you invited me. because i'm not a fan."

his lips twitch. "but you like me, no?"

"i do," you concede, absentmindedly. "but i thought you said…the band…"

"i don't think i really care about that anymore." his thumb dips low, brushing over the space under your ribs where his name is temporarily tattooed against your skin. "i…" he hesitates, before his thumb swipes against your skin again, and he takes a deep breath. "i told them about you. just now."

you feel like you're falling – a sense of vertigo making your head spin.

"what did you say?"

"just that…there was a you," he finished, lamely. "that we see each other more, but it's nothing." his hand squeezes yours, a gentle pulse. "nothing yet, anyway."

"i'll take it," you murmur, holding his hand clasped in both of yours and kissing him lightly on his fingertips. his face crumples, his chest caving in on itself with the weight of the tenderness he feels for you in that moment, and he leans in, tilting his head, eyes fluttering closed.

he kisses you like it's a promise, close-lipped and earnest. it feels almost like the two of you are finally on even ground.

—

"what are you trying to do?"

you jump, as the light in the small kitchenette flicks on. dirty dishes pile up in the sink, mugs scattered over the countertop, and the boy leaning against the fridge focuses his gaze on you. his voice is gentle, a mellow sort of sweetness undercut by the deepness of his voice. not in the way jisung's was deep, but a bass to it that gave it authority, one that the boy seldom had to use.

"what do you mean?"

jeno tilts his head. "y/n, do you know why haechan likes to fuck girls after his shows?"

the sweetness on your tongue from haechan's kiss decays into bitterness.

jeno doesn't seem to care. "he gets high off the feeling of the crowd. it's something he doesn't want to let go of, so he finds someone who adores him and makes them prove it." his eyes bore into yours, unblinking. "he doesn't care who he's with, y/n. he just likes the way they sound, screaming his name."

"but why doesn't-" you choke. it feels almost like you're betraying him. "why doesn't he date?"

jeno raises his eyebrows, and you feel pathetic. it’s a long time before he finally answers.

"all the girls are only after the version of him onstage. it's him they like, and haechan's just extending the performance. would you want to date someone who only liked one side of you?"

"but i don't just like that side of haechan," you protest, weakly. even then, you don't know what other sides you're alluding to — was it his gentleness with you? how he always held you after? the one who let his baby sister pick his tattoos?

"y/n?"

a soft voice sounds out from the corridor leading off into the bedrooms. sleep-ridden syllables mumbling out into the still air, calling your name.

"where are you? is everything okay?"

jeno's looking at you with someone like pity in his eyes, the way your body turns towards his voice like an instinct. "haechan isn't even his real name, did you know that?"

he crosses over to you, and places his mug into the sink behind your back. "try not to get too loud," he murmurs. "we're all tired."

and as haechan pulls you into his warm embrace, palms wandering over your skin, you bite your tongue and keep as quiet as possible.

—

haechan's head snaps up as he sees the door swing open again and more girls wander into the bar. there are excited squeals and shouts as they spot the band, he can hear mark's warm laugh and see jisung's wave out of his peripheral vision. behind him, jeno's methodically checking on his drum kit, and haechan can feel his eyes on the back of his neck, as if he knew.

his eyes scan the crowd again, praying he was wrong. but deep down he knows he would recognise your voice anywhere, be able to spot your features even in total darkness.

and right now, you weren't there at all.

his body goes on autopilot, muscle memory kicking in as he plays the chords, does his solos, nods along to the music. the crowd is frenetic, watching the way his eyebrows are drawn together, tonguing at his cheek, his lips downturned — the anger tense in his body making them whisper to themselves, wondering why this was part of his performance today. he keeps his expression slack as he signs autographs, nodding curtly towards fans as they bid him goodbye timidly, intimidated by his stormy gaze.

he doesn't understand why it makes his insides twist, each time he searches the crowd and darts his eyes back to his guitar. maybe he'd just gotten used to seeing you front row at his shows. maybe that was all this was — and you were a bad habit he should have broken.

it's what he tells himself as he lets his hands brush against the girl's as she holds her poster out to him, smiling a close-lipped smile, eyes dragging up and down his body excitedly. he lets her think it's a part of the performance, as he rails her in the bathroom of the bar, his eyes squeezed shut as she moans his name into the sink, trying to ignore the way her body didn't react at all like yours did, that his hands couldn't find purchase on her skin at all, and her voice made him want to crawl out of his skin.

you were a bad habit he should break — at least that's what he tells himself to keep him sane.

-> part 2 here!

taglist: @neochan, @ahncosette, @18shy @kittydollzz @jenoslutie @pussymode @yyfka @cheolctrl @jaeminsballs @mysummerhyuck @strawberrytyong @rosiejunnie @nctzen4eva @haechskies @wickedrei @sundamariis @simpforarmihn @liliansun @lanadreamie @nodisdino @angelwonie @foxydumps @manooffline @moonsmias @skzct7 @iscocohere @ficrecnctskz @smwhrinthehaze (sorry there were q a few i couldn't tag!)

#haechan smut #haechan angst #haechan au #haechan x reader #nct dream smut #nct dream angst #nct smut #nct angst #haechan scenario #nct 127 smut #nct 127 angst #fic: rockstar haechan #donghyuck smut

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kazvha · 6 months

Note

Sae and Rin reaction to seeing the reader couching blood in their matches? The reader is cheering for the brothers like she always does, and suddenly she starts to cough lots of blood and she passes out. When the they noticed, they immediately stop playing and went to the reader while they screaming in terror and fear. They desperately want help from the people in there.

Summary: His reaction when you faint during his match

Including: Sae & Rin (separated)

Notes: I actually have no idea what happens when you faint in a stadium😅 Tried my best though

SAE ITOSHI

Sae was proud to have you cheering for him every match. Although he had lots of supporters, his eyes only looked at your figure every time he scored a goal. He would never grow tired of your beaming face.

You jumped and screamed like always the next time Sae scored a goal, only to get a coughing attack. The coughs wouldn't stop even after drinking water, and eventually, you started coughing blood. It stained your top, and suddenly a wave of weakness hit you, which made cling to the railing in front of you.

"Hey! Is everything alright?", asked one person next to you, before your consciousness slipped into nothing.

A commotion formed around you, and people panicked and screaming for help. Sae noticed it out of the corner of his eyes and scanned through the crowd for your figure. When his eyes found you in that unconscious state, red liquid dripping from your lips, he froze.

"[Name]?!", he cried out in terror before sprinting up to you in a straight line.

When he arrived at your side you were already put into the recovery position and someone called the ambulance. He was caught up in fear. The goal and the game were long forgotten, the only thing on Sae's mind was you. How did this happen? Were there signs he didn't notice?

His hands trembled as he rubbed your shoulder and attempted to calm himself down. "Everything will be fine."

He never left your side when you were carried out, his hand never left your cold one.

RIN ITOSHI

You always being there and cheering for him during his matches was the thing that kept him going. Every time Rin took a breather, he glanced in your direction. He admired how good you looked in his jersey, with his name written on your face, and then he concentrated on the game again.

You were screaming your lungs out in a fan chant until you suddenly suffered from a coughing fit. Your eyes widened when you noticed the blood on your hands after wiping your lips, and the next thing that happened was... Darkness.

The first half was nearing the end with three minutes of overtime when Rin took another look in your direction. Seeing your state, eyes closed, and leaning back into your seat made him frown at first, and then he noticed the blood.

His instincts immediately took over. He ran across the field screaming your name frantically, his voice full of fear and terror. He hoped you would respond, but you didn't, your eyes remained closed. Rin hastically climbed up to your seat reaching for your shoulder and trying his luck again to no avail. He checked your pulse. Luckily, you were still breathing.

Seething with rage he screamed at the wide-eyed people around him, "How blind has someone to be to not notice the person next to you passing out?! Call an ambulance, before I crush you all into little pieces!"

His eyes coldly pierced through everyone he looked at. "Stop filming! You shits don't even have one spark of decency in you!" Rin was ready to attack everybody, but his teammate who appeared beside him, restrained him.

Two minutes later the emergency physicians arrived and carried you to the ambulance. Rin insisted on staying by your side the whole time, even if it meant abandoning his match.

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arianatheangel-girl · 2 years

Text

The Colonel’s Judgment Day

(Author’s note: In honor of Elvis’s birthday, I decided to write this story, giving the “man” who essentially destroyed his life on Earth the judgment he truly deserves.)

“Ugh...what is this?”

The heavyset, bald man groaned and rubbed his eyes as they adjusted to the blinding light in front of and around him.

He didn’t understand it. One minute he’d been sleeping in his hospital bed, and the next he was here.

Then he noticed he was standing up, and his cane was nowhere in sight. He also noticed he was no longer struggling to breathe or move like before.

Wait...was this--?

Just then, his eyes adjusted enough to see what was around him. He seemed to be standing on a platform with a large railing and a podium in front of it, and there were two groups of people (one dressed all in white, and some spectators dressed in both white and black, but neither looking too pleased), one sitting on either side of the large judicial bench in front of him, where a strong-jawed, regal-looking man with a white beard (clearly the the judge) sat, looking down at him.

A courtroom.

Just then, the judge banged the bronze gavel on his desk three times, before he spoke, his deep, booming voice echoing throughout the room.

“Court will come to order. Andreas Cornelis van Kuijk, alias Colonel Tom Parker, you have been brought before the Court of Afterlife Judgment, to examine your case by this council. As you’ve no doubt realized, your earthly body has recently expired. So...I suppose I should first bid you welcome to the afterlife.”

At hearing this, the Colonel’s eyes lit up. “So...this is the entrance to Heaven, then?”

The judge nodded.

“Well, hurry up and open the gate then, I can’t wait to see all my old friends!”

At this, the judge raised his hand, motioning for the Colonel to be quiet. “I’m afraid it’s not that easy.”

Now the Colonel just looked confused. “What? What do you mean?” He spoke indignantly. “Shouldn’t I be guaranteed a place among the gods? You forget, I MADE Elvis Presley! Without me, there would be no Elvis Presley--!”

Just then the judge banged his gavel again, looking as if he was running out of patience. “Be quiet!” He ordered, rubbing his head in frustration before continuing.

“While we do fully acknowledge, and are grateful for your contributions to the world of music, there’s still also enough sins on your ledger to be greatly troubled by your conduct.”

“What do you mean?” the Colonel asked, now looking thoroughly confused; he truly didn’t think he’d done anything wrong.

“Well, for starters, that you took nearly 50 percent of Elvis’s income-”

“I was his manager! We were partners. That was needed for my living expenses.”

“You also signed him into film contracts years in advance without giving him a choice as to what he wanted-”

“Well, I was trying to make my boy more famous; how was I supposed to know the scripts would be so bad?”

“You refused to let him go overseas because of your own immigration issues, though you claimed it was for ‘security’. And, perhaps the most egregious of all; you insisted he keep performing when he was clearly ill and made no attempt to get him off the numerous drugs he was on, which eventually led to his premature death.”

“It was for his fans’ sake; I promised them a great show! We could’ve lost quite a bit of money if--!”

“SILENCE!” The judge’s voice was so loud it shook the floor. He rubbed his head again before sighing.

“I’ve heard enough. Before we make our final judgment, I think it’s best if we bring in your client. Let’s see if he will speak for you. Open the gates.”

With that, the gates just to the right of the judge opened. After a minute or two, Elvis himself stepped out.

But he didn’t look anything like the Colonel had seen him last. Dressed in a simple white suit, he looked almost as he had during the fifties; he no longer carried the extra weight he gained from the drugs, and he looked much more rested and confident.

But what stood out the most were his eyes. They no longer held the exhausted, sad, defeated look the Colonel remembered last seeing; now, they seemed to be filled with an intense anger and loathing.

Elvis stood, staring at the Colonel for a few minutes, before the Colonel tried to appeal to his kindness, attempting to greet him as an old friend. “My boy, it’s been so long! You look wonderful; I’ve missed you so! Why it’s been...it’s been fifteen or sixteen years--”

Elvis then spoke up, his tone calm. “It’s been twenty years, Colonel, since you and I last saw each other.”

The Colonel nodded. “Really? I cannot believe it’s been that long since the world lost you, my boy. You know, I always thought a part of me went missing when you left; I truly missed you!”

He reached out as if to beckon Elvis into a hug, but instead, Elvis stepped back in disgust. “Don’t fucking touch me, you bloodsucking old vampire!”

The Colonel turned pale. “But...my boy, what’s the matter? You and I was partners!”

Elvis snorted. “Don’t make me laugh. You never saw me that way. You saw me as your cash cow, something to keep you in the spotlight and keep your lifestyle going. You didn’t miss me; you missed all the cash I brought you! You even tried to trick my family into giving you my estate when I was gone!”

He sighed. “Thank God Daddy and Cilla eventually had more sense than to listen to you. At least I knew they’d care for my baby girl’s future. More than I could ever say for you!” He snarled as he backed off to stand by the judge.

The Colonel seemed to turn more pale, if that was possible. Things were not looking good for him.

With that, the judge spoke. “Those in favor of admission up above?”

Some of the spectators (what seemed to be the jury) gave the “thumbs up” gesture.

“And those in favor of sending this soul down below?”

Several more jury members gave the “thumbs down gesture”.

The judge then turned to Elvis. “Mr. Presley?”

The Colonel made one final attempt to plead for his life. “Please, my boy! I made you! You can’t do this to me! Don’t you have any mercy left in your heart? You wouldn’t send me down below, would you? You need me!”

Elvis sighed, looking down for a moment. “You’re right. I did need you.”

The Colonel had a brief look of hope flash across his face.

Then Elvis looked him right in the eyes. “But I don’t need you anymore.”

With that, Elvis made the “thumbs down” gesture. The last thing he heard was the Colonel’s screams as the floor beneath him opened, and a few shadowy figures dragged him down to the depths of Hell.

Just before the head demon left, though, Elvis stopped him.

“Uh, mister? Look, I know it ain’t really my place or anything, but, uh...could I throw in a suggestion torture?”

The demon nodded. “Sure, what?”

With that, Elvis leaned in to whisper something in his ear.

“Wait, you want me to do what with the cigar?”

Elvis leaned over and whispered again, before the demon smiled and nodded in understanding. “Buddy, I like the way you think. But I must be going. I’ll keep your suggestions in mind.”

Elvis smiled and nodded, looking happier than he had in a long time on Earth. “Cool. Have a nice day!” He called back as he disappeared through the gates of Heaven once more.

Once the two had left, the judge banged his gavel one last time.

“Court adjourned.”

For: @loving-elvis @powerofelvis @aconflagrationofmyown @missmaywemeetagain @headfullofpresley @mooodyblue @succsessions @butlersxbirdy @troubleinapinksuit @butler-on-beale-street @emmymaehereeeeee @presleysdarling and the rest of the Elvis fandom, who all inspired me to write.

#elvisaaronpresley #elvis #colonel tom parker #happy birthday elvis

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boytouya · 3 years

Text

carry me out

w.count: 3.6k

warning: blood, gore, dismemberment, zombie apocalypse themes, side effects of explosives, family death(hinted), graphic depictions of violence

a/n: i apologize for the abrupt ending! (if i didn’t stop there it’d be a 10k word fic) it starts off kinda slow, but it does pick up! can be read as platonic, but it’s obvious the reader & bkg have crushes on each other

There’s always the idea of before. The light strokes of a brush against a freshly prepared canvas, the chime of a piano that’s just slightly off key, the sound of laughter; giddy and satisfying and well practiced. It comes from family, friends, a video that plays on your phone during sinful hours of the night.

But that’s not what you should be focusing on, not now, when you’re preoccupied with narrowed, red eyes. They look at you with nothing but pure suspicion, remarkably intimidating despite belonging to someone who looks incredibly angelic. Tufts of blonde hair, unruly and disheveled and divine. The sun dawns down, framing the silvery blond locks with a makeshift halo. But you would know, never underestimate your opponent based on appearance.

The being in front of you drones, snapping calloused fingers in front of your face until you’re forced to give him your full and undivided attention. You realize now, that the glint temporarily blinding you isn’t from the Sun, but the knife held against your throat. It’s dull, nowhere near sharp enough to get a decent cut. He’s bluffing. Even through flared nostrils and barred teeth. He’s bluffing.

Your hands move faster than your brain as you douse the useless gas station in gasoline, an orange lighter in hand until you decide— this is it. You stripped the place of all valuables you could find; canned food, heating pads, bandages, the last of their water. The cart you threw supplies into screeched against the unpolished floors, assaulting your sensitive ears until you couldn’t take it anymore.

Lathered in the thick, sticky entrails (or is it intestines?) of a Roamer, you drop your lighter into the trail of gasoline, leaving the ignition to sear the sickly skin of the undead as they fester and overpopulate the connected convenience store. Whether they remain freshly turned or not, it doesn’t concern you. What you should be focusing on is the nauseating scent of death choking you from the outside-in.

How did you get here?

“You’re not gonna kill me.” You test your luck, knowing he could damn well plunge the knife into your neck if he really wanted to. But he doesn’t. Not yet, at least. His red eyes, richer than any blood you’ve ever seen spilled, you’ve ever spilled, harden.

“Wanna bet?” No, you don’t. His voice is gruff, and you desperately hope he has yet to fall victim to bloodlust. The wrinkle between his eyebrows looks much more intimidating now, and if you survive this you’ll spend much more time basking in the background static of Roamers groaning for their next fix.

“Sure,” Is your undeniably inflexible retort. The man in front of you scoffs, his breath fanning over your face as he silently asks ‘what makes you say that? you think you can test me?’ “You know why?”

He doesn’t humor you, pressing the blade into your skin until it’s blunt end forces something out of you. Whether it be a stolen intake of air or a teaspoon of blood, you take that as your final queue, your last sign to free yourself from the grasp of this crazed man— shrugging your backpack off your shoulder to hold it over the railing. It’s quite the drop, the moment it hits the ground it’ll alert the Sprinters waiting for you to come down.

“I’m the one holding your last chance of survival over a railing.”

(You were born into it; the perilous, unrelenting apocalypse that had long overswept a majority of life surrounding you. Sure, your mother passed down the stories of before: bright color coded notes, backpacks and diners- with real food- and industrialization. Vegetation that wasn’t an alarming shade of grey, buildings and fire hydrants and white picket fences. Aged trees that reached for the stars, campfires that weren’t made to set off a distraction. Satellites, cell phone towers and lamp posts. That was living.

You? You were surviving. Or at least trying to.

“Never let anyone hold anything over you. Someone hits you? Hit them back. Let them talk all they want, but don’t ever let them get a good hit in.” She told you, as the veins beneath her skin began to rise and morph into a profound shade of black. Her skin was scalding, searing your skin until it cools abruptly- limp and heavy and grey. From then on you'd grow sick of the color. She leaves with that, not an ‘I love you,’ not a reassuring smile.

To this day, you can't tell which you would have preferred.)

The boy with red eyes, Katsuki, is a natural born leader. The physical embodiment of sticks and stones, stronger than Atlas himself, he seems to have no weaknesses. It’s almost easy for you to forget that he’s human, and not some frenzied killing machine designed to set off makeshift explosions. But the way his joints pop when he shifts a certain way, the way blood trickles down his cheeks after a Roamer strikes a particularly deep gash across his face, proves otherwise. It was then, you realized, that he was flesh and bones. Not motor oil and indestructible metal.

You remember asking him where he learned to make them, your fingers tracing the sticky, plasticy exoskeleton of one of his grenades. He slapped your hand away, his sharp canines barred as he tells you not to ‘fuck with things you know nothing about,’ but he doesn’t give you more than that. It was then that you realized Katsuki truly could betray you at any waking moment. You knew nothing about him, but he- seemingly- knew everything.

(“An old man taught me. That’s all.” He says much later, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his cargo pants. Covered in dirt, grime, and rugged scars, they clench beneath the worn out fabric. You forgot about questioning him in the first place.

“Huh?” Katsuki bristles with disgruntlement, his cherry lips curled into a snarl. Slowly, his confession clicks into place, and you don’t have to contemplate why the topic makes him so tense anymore.

“An old man taught me. Him and some crazy hag...Always yellin’ my damn ear off.” His long, ominous outtake of breath spreads goosebumps around your forearm.)

He carries around a gallon of water, the liquid slosh, slosh, sloshing as it collides with his lean thighs every so often. His cargo pants, a revolting shade of green and black swirling together to ultimately form a camouflage pattern, have deep pockets occupied by switchblades and trinkets. He doesn’t carry a single item with sentimental value, which makes you think that, maybe, he actually does bleed motor oil. His steps are always silent, even when he’s shooting rounds into the rotting skull of a Roamer.

There’s truly nothing he can’t do.

Your eyes flicker upwards to trace the perimeter of the large scar across Katsuki’s cheeks, and you can see red eyes twitch with agitation in your peripherals. Definitely not a robot.

It’s funny, watching him tackle the obstacle of carrying water whilst you lug a baseball bat across the road. It’s wrapped in barbed wire, thick and sharp, glaring under the overbearing Sun, and occasionally sending a flare of light straight into his eyes. Perhaps that’s why prefers walking in front of you, with his heavy boots meeting the ground with urgent collision. You’re not entirely sure where you’re headed, but you hope it’s something better than this. Wishful thinking will get you nowhere.

(“What makes you say that? You said you had ‘a lot back home, so-“

“So, I got a lot back home. Don’t mean shit-else. Get your head outta the clouds. There’s nothing good about this place.” You know he means the entirety of Japan. You never knew if there was more to it, if the outstretched sea led to a country with real civilization. If there was a place where Roamers were just an urban legend. It was said that America was the first Country to go out, that France was still holding utmost resilience. That’s what you liked to think, anyway, after staring at world maps pinned to your old classroom’s wall.

“That’s not what I said.” You correct him, stubborn and pitifully bent on childish delusions.)

You could use an awful lot of that now, carrying yourself on numb, swollen legs that yearn for a break. The blisters on your ankles had turned to a sensation of static long ago, but you can feel the blood festering in your shoes. The sign in front of you is small, barely even note-able compared to the large buildings in front of you. ‘Welcome to Musutafu’, with a double-looped ‘O’ hidden beneath a thick, red stripe of spray paint. Above it reads ‘Hell,’ but you’re not sure you want to entertain that theory. It’s Comparable to your dreams, skyscrapers made of glass, shops and cars and traces of past population. You can only imagine what it’d look like had it not been trapped in the sickening, black tar that came with the apocalypse. Perhaps a purple sunset that reflected off the windows, green bushes, maybe even animals.

(“What're you doing here if you’re from Musutafu anyway, Katsuki?” You ask, watching the boy scoop his share of baked beans from the pot. The fire crackles quietly, sparks dancing in the air. He shrugs with one shoulder, picking up a spoonful of food to shovel into his mouth.

“Lookin’ for someone,” He swallows. “It was a lost-cause anyway.” The desire to apologize rests on your tongue, though you’re not sure what you’d be apologizing for.)

“Shut up.” Katsuki hisses, raising his strong arm to stop you in your tracks. On any other day, maybe one much more light-hearted, he would’ve stopped his stride so you smack your body against his toned back. For a moment you consider opening your mouth to make a smart comment, ‘I wasn’t talking in the first place,’ but the sight in front of you has you gasping for air.

A pack? No, a herd of Roamers infesting the otherwise abandoned streets of Musutafu, their rotting bodies packed like sardines. You can't tell how many have evolved, but you’re not willing to wait and find out.

Lifting your baseball bat with aching arms, you swing it over your shoulder as Katsuki fishes through his pockets. His eyebrows are furrowed, bunched together with indescribable agitation (as if such a life threatening situation annoys him). He clicks his teeth, pulling out a makeshift grenade that rested inside the pocket located on his shin. It could've went off from his stomping earlier, and the idea slams chills through your skeletal system. Katsuki would’ve been gone, you would’ve been gone, nothing but seared remains and burned locks of hair.

Your heart bursts with an unfamiliar feeling while your fingers buzz as you think of never seeing Katsuki again. You would’ve died together, but you didn’t want to die at all. You didn’t want Katsuki to die.

(Katsuki grunts, low in his throat and full of adoration as he drives through the streets of Musutafu with you by his side, The radio doesn’t work, jammed with thick pints of blood and small, dismembered body parts. Neither of you mind, though, holding each other’s hand as he drives through the infested streets. There are large bumps in the road, some that make your insides jump, some that make a resounding crunch. But you don’t mind, not when you’re with him.

It goes wrong the second you laugh, a sound that lights him up with infatuation from the inside-out. So infatuated that his steady grip on the steering wheel is no longer steady enough to control the car, sending you both to an inevitable crash.

When consciousness graces his body, Katsuki finds you pulling rotten teeth from the gash in his throat. It’s a richer shade of red than usual blood, dark and sticky as it runs down his cold body. The hood of the car sends black smoke into the air, and, if he could, he’d have coughed up his lungs. He can barely breathe, tearing his gaze away from the source of his impending death to get a good look at you. When he dies, because he will, he wants your face to be the last thing he sees.

But it’s contorted, stuck in a devastatingly somber expression. He doesn’t like it, not one bit.

He wakes with a start, his makeshift blanket made of winter coats sliding off his warm body. Despite the warmth of his skin, his blood runs cold as the dark, midnight sky stares back at him with malice. His chest rises and falls in quick sessions, his silenced breath is suddenly louder than his own thoughts. For a moment he thinks he’s drowning.

“Wha’ s’rong?” You mumble lifting yourself up to sit with your elbows. The foggy layers of sleep is evident in your voice, quiet compared to the chirping of crickets and snapping of branches. Even through thick blankets of darkness accompanied by bright stars, you managed to shine the brightest. His irregular breathing must have woken you, and now Katsuki had to fend off his thoughts, the pitch black demons of the night, and a concerned friend. A concerned partner.)

Your fingers are readjust against the handle of the baseball bat.

“Don’t bother. They’d rip you a new one,” He says, completely humorless as he grabs your hand with his unoccupied one, pulling a pin with his teeth. You can't tell if it’s just decoration, but activating a grenade is never good news. “Get ready to run.”

His grip is warm, firm and tight as he squeezes your hand like his life depends on it. Your downtrodden scream in protest as you run the second the grenade is thrown; had Katsuki been absent you may not have gotten far enough. But even with his support you can feel the hairs on your skin twinge, heat searing your skin with indescribable pain. Not enough to scar, not enough to melt, but enough to hurt. Your ears ring, louder than the initial explosion. Everything else is muffled, the sound of Katsuki’s breath, the sound of shattering glass, the sound of pain enriched roaring. You wonder if Katsuki feels it too.

It’s evident that he does, because as limbs and the unforgettable smell of rot and decomposition return tenfold, you can see his triumphant smile is made out of gritted teeth. What hasn’t died out there is surely a monster of leaking puss bubbles and dismembered limbs, not necessarily a threat, but still an obstacle. Once the smoke clears out, your bat goes back over your shoulder, and the first thing the barbed spikes collide with is a dented skull.

It’s much too loud for your liking, the sound of a skull caving in once more. You don’t flinch (you never do, not anymore), your arms don’t hestitate as you swing again and again, just to be sure. Just to be sure. The Roamer is nothing but a pile of grey and red by the time you’re done, no longer twitching or snapping it’s jaw, no longer scraping its claws against the concrete until they’ve fallen off. But even then, you find yourself beating the mush into paste. For hurting you, for hurting your family, for potentially hurting Katsuki, for being in the way. For existing in the goddamn first place.

“I think that’s enough,” Katsuki whistles, resting a hand on his hip as he turns to look through the outstretched streets of Musutafu. When you lift your head to acknowledge his statement, you notice the trickle of blood cascading down his neck, from his ear. He seems to take your silence personally, whipping his head around with narrowed eyes. “What? You got a starin’ problem or somethin’?”

“Fuck, Katsuki. You-“ Loud, haywire footsteps sound behind Katsuki on his right side, but he seems to hear it on his left. Before he can react, before he can pull out the M14 resting on his back, he’s fighting with the quick claws of death. You can't just sit there, , you can’t watch the only thing you have left be ripped to shreds in front of your very eyes. Katsuki would die, and you’d be next.

He just has to trust you.

(“Get outta here with that fairytale bullshit,” He rolls his eyes, clenching his jaw before taking a swig of warm water. He hands you the gallon. “You gonna stop the apocalypse with the power of friendship while you're at it?”

“Ha-ha,” Your voice drips with sarcasm, but the facade doesn’t stop you from taking a large gulp of water. You can tell he’s sniggering at his own joke.“Very funny, ‘Suki. Let’s combine magic wands while we’re at it.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Get the hell away from me, freak!” If you didn’t know any better, you’d think there was a soft shade of pink dusting the tips of his ears.)

“Clench your abdomen.” You grit your teeth, not even waiting for your partner to confirm that he’s done it before kicking him in the stomach, sending him and the Sprinter onto the hood of an abandoned car. It hisses, it’s vile breath violating Katsuki’s nostrils as he frees himself from the grip of the undead. There’s a dent in the car now, so you’re sure it must have hurt both of them. It’s weak bones must have snapped beneath the pressure of the car and your kick. When you raise your trembling arms Katsuki shakes his head, slinging his gun over his torso to let off a series of shots, all through the missing left eye of the Sprinter.

“Are you-“

“Save it. We just got ourselves a car,” Katsuki rubs at the dried blood that had once streamed from his ear with his wrist, his red eyes stoney and stuck forward. He nearly rips the driver’s door straight off its hinges while you check the back seats for anything, tugging the long gone victim of a car crash out of his new seat. Not once does he gag or hesitate to touch a dead human. Just like that, he’s back to being robotic. “We’re goin’ home.”

He waits for you to hop in the passenger seat, holding bottles of outdated beer that happened to be in the back seats (anything is better than a Roamer) with an excited smile. He hands you his water, placing his gun on the dashboard, may he need it. Luckily, since it was a person who died here and not a Roamer, the keys were still in the ignition, it was just a matter of how hard Katsuki could kick the car to make it start.

“Do your people back home drink beer?” You inquire, buckling your seatbelt just as Katsuki does with his. The bottles make sharp noises as they touch, but it’s far from unpleasant. Katsuki doesn’t take his eyes off the road, not even once. He seems deep in thought. You wonder if it has anything to do with his recurring nightmares.

“Yeah.”

“Do you drink?” You shimmy in your seat.

“What do you think this is, a Q&A?!” Katsuki clears his throat, watching Roamers trip over themselves in the dusty rearview mirror. It’d be nice to have some car fresheners, it smelled like overheating death in here. He sucks in air through his teeth and out through his nose, clearly tense. “Do you?”

You shrug. He’s not entirely sure what that’s supposed to mean.

Your hand reaches up to grasp Katsuki’s shoulder, your thumb moving in small, circular motions against his thick shirt. You can feel his shoulders tense under you, like a rubber band waiting to snap. You want to mention the dried blood on his neck, you want to ask how he’s so calm as if he hasn’t gone deaf in one ear, you want to ask him if he’s okay. You can feel his shoulders tremble beneath your touch.

You seemed to have a long way to go to UA, but you didn’t mind. If anything, you’d be alright cruising the streets with Katsuki by your side for the rest of your days.

It turns out Katsuki’s home is huge. School sized, in fact. It’s covered by a large, thick barbed wire fence, and it has the most green grass you’ve ever seen. It’s almost as if your eyes can't pick up on the colors because they’re so diverse- so different from what you’re used to. Katsuki huffs as he watches your wide eyes scan the place, pride swelling in his chest.

You consider home to be where he is, but you’re not sure you should tell him that.

Another blond, although his hair is an unnatural shade of yellow, is patrolling the area, a large smile graced on his face when he catches sight of Katsuki. He looks like an aesthetic disaster, bracelets and chains and hair clips full of uncoordinated colors. You wonder if the black, lightning bolt-esque stripe in his hair was deliberate.

“Oi, Kacchan! You’re back!” He grins, opening the powerful gate to let the two of you in. He gives you a wink of acknowledgment. “I’m Denki.”

“Don’t call me that,” Katsuki steps in front of you, as if the wink his friend directed toward you was a threat. Denki waves his hand with obvious dismissal, closing the gate behind the both of you. They seem to share a glance. “And stop flirting with everyone you meet.”

When your hand finds its way to Katsuki’s, he makes an effort to squeeze it back.

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slutsofren · 4 years

Text

Danger Days Chapter 5: Skylines and Turnstiles

summary: arriving at the University of Eastern Colorado, things start pointing to an unwanted direction

warnings: little allusions to anxiety and awkardness, everybody is finally getting along (kinda), mild sexual tension, reader is fucking horny

word count: 3,116

read on ao3 here / danger days masterlist

You had been zoning out for about the last hour, only starting to pay attention as you saw the familiar red brick walls of the university. Joel had been droning on and on and on about football and the rules of the game, teaching it to Ellie and she lapped it all up excitedly. If there was one thing you had grown to love about the girl, it was her passion for knowledge, especially of the old world.

As they talked, you recalled your adventures the past month, thanking the stars it was a rather smooth journey to get here. The three of you only encountered one group of hunters that weren’t much trouble and they were rather well stocked on supplies and food, keeping you all fed for a few days longer.

The two horses were doing well too, the long trek didn’t seem to bother them as much as you originally worried. Made the journey much smoother and shorter than you accounted for. When you all left Jackson, it was only October, now it was maybe halfway through November. You were making pretty good time on your schedule.

“I don’t see a glass building,” Ellie told you, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“We’ll need to get to the center courtyard of the campus. You’ll see it from there, it’ll look like a mirror made of glass.” You raised a hand and pointed through some buildings, vaguely gesturing the way.

You led them into an area of the campus that led to the science center. But Joel stopped you and dismounted, giving Ellie the reins, “Stay, Callus.” After a couple feet of walking away Joel asked her, “What kind of a name is Callus, anyways?”

He goes around, searching the area for either troubles or supplies, grumbling about the name Ellie gave the horse.

“Not my fault you forgot to ask Tommy his name,” Ellie jokes and jerks her thumb at you, “Or that she didn’t know it either.”

“Hey, don’t bring me into this, kiddo. I’m just buddies with my dear Whiskey here,” you pat the neck of the black horse. He gave a little huff beneath your fingers and shook his head, enjoying the attention. “Besides, Cherry is the only one able to tell the difference between all of them.”

Joel gives you a faint smile as he reaches for the bit on Callus, guiding him through a gate into the middle of the campus that you waited by.

After being in such close proximity to each other, the two of you began warming up to the other. Of course, you still chucked snide comments at him, often calling him an old bastard when he’d piss you off or do something snide. He would reply in kind, calling you a brat and threatening you to behave.

Needless to say, that awakened a little fantasy you totally didn’t need of the man, eliciting some rather vivid dreams when you slept. Hinting that maybe you were unfortunately in need of a good orgasm to get it all out of your system once and for all. Being out in the middle of fuck-all nowhere made that kind of difficult.The mental imagery alone kept you up most nights on your watch while you kept an eye out as the two rested. Regardless, Joel had been a gentleman towards you, apparently all that southern charm was genuine but he was still a broody asshole most days, never once hinting he saw you in such a way despite how often you’d catch him staring.

Ellie on the other hand, took to you rather quickly. She would ask you question after question about California, FEDRA, what to expect with the Fireflies at the lab, what you were like before the outbreak. She was intrigued about life pre-cordyceps virus, it was as if it was a fantasy to her.

Well, you admit, you supposed it was. She was born after the virus took hold, she never got to experience the things you and Joel did in the world before.To go to a zoo, a concert, gossip with friends about who likes who in school. The only thing she knew was to keep fighting, surviving, and running. Despite how cheerful and passionate she could be about her comic books or absorbing as much knowledge as she could, you were saddened that she never got the chance to be normal.

As much as you tried to keep some things private during her lengthy questionings, you knew her curiosity was blinding. She meant no harm, likely going to you for these questions seeing as Joel was completely shut off from his past, not that you blame him. You couldn’t imagine what he experienced from what Tommy had told you before.

Ellie looked around on the horse, “So, these places… people would live here and just study? Even though they were all grown up?”

“Yeah, study, party, and find themselves. Figure out what they wanted to do with their lives,” Joel replied. He let go of the leather strap and motioned for you and Ellie to stay where you were as he walked towards what looked to be like a loading dock and began searching.

She repeated Joel’s last sentence about finding themselves, possibly turning over the idea in her mind, after a few moments of silence of both of you watching Joel she turned to you, “Did you ever go to college?”

You shook your head, silently telling her no. “I was too young when shit hit the fan, but I would explore these buildings and take the books that were salvageable. Read them when I had the time. Tried to educate myself however I could.”

“What would you have studied if you went?”

“I don’t know,” you think. Suddenly you remembered some of your favorite books that you had stolen from these very buildings. “I really liked reading the history books that I found here. Maybe I would have done something with that. Or maybe,” you ponder, “maybe I wouldn’t have liked history if not for the whole world fucking ending.”

Ellie considers this for a moment. Then, from the corner of your eye, you watch Joel disappear behind a corner and you turn towards her, “What about you?”

Ellie scrunches her face in thought. “Art. Or maybe music. I like being creative.”

You smiled at the idea, “Ellie Williams: Comedian, Artist, Rock Star.”

Ellie smiles widely and the moment is cut short by Joel announcing somewhere above you. “There was a look-out here,” his voice calls down.

Both of you look up and see Joel leaning over a concrete railing on the second floor. “That’s a good sign,” Ellie says to him, then she looks at you and asks quietly, “Right?”

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. You furrow your brows and begin to bite on your bottom lip, unsure of what to make of things. It’s unlike them to leave a look-out abandoned. Now that you’re thinking about it, you’re pretty damn positive you’d have come across somebody by now.

You try to get your facial expressions back in check, not wanting to worry Ellie or even Joel by making them feel like something is vastly wrong with how this looks. Before, when you were with the militia group, there were armed guards practically on every roof of this campus. They were always checking in with each other, making sure none of the infected or even hunters penetrated the walls. It wasn’t always secure or even practical, more lives were lost that way but it helped protect the lab.

You’re pulled away from your anxious thoughts as you spot Joel. He takes one last look around then comes down from the loading dock and gets back on the horse he’s sharing with Ellie and looks to you, gesturing his hand out in front of him. “Lead the way.”

You give Whiskey a little kick and he takes off, jumping over a concrete barricade then leading them up some stairs and under some ornate arches and pulling the reins to the left. With a motion of your hand you point to the science building in the distance, “There it is. The one with glass walls.”

Ellie looks over his shoulder and huffs a surprise, “It really does look like a glass mirror.”

Unfortunately there was a locked gate between the group and your destination. “Question is, how are we gonna get through here,” Joel thinks out loud.

After looking around it seems the only way forward is through the crumbling buildings. Joel dismounts from Callus once again and led you both through a broken wall on the left that led to the inside of the old library.

“How many people you think are there? Fireflies, I mean,” Ellie wondered.

“Reckon it takes quite a crew to run that operation,” Joel looks at you.

You nodded at both of them idly, “Yeah, when I was here we had at least a few dozen, maybe more. I kind of kept to myself.”

“You think there’ll be other people my age,” she asked, not letting her eyes look up towards you.

“I do.”

The three of you approached another locked gate inside the building, essentially cutting off both the library and the rest of the hall you were in from each other. Joel pulled on the handle and it creaked open, Callus and Whiskey both shuffled and whined, making you and Ellie shift on them.

“Woah, woah, woah, what is it boys,” Joel tried to calm down the horses.

Your attention got pulled away when you heard a shriek and Ellie said, “Sounds like runners.”

Joel looked back behind him then forward at you, “Stay together. I’ll go check it out.”

“Joel, no wait,” you try to argue as you dismount but he closes the gate behind him.

“Stay with her,” he tells you. “I don’t want the horses or her runnin’ off again.”

You give him a hard look that he mirrors, neither one of you wants to budge but the look in his brown eyes make you waver, finally caving into his demand. “Stay alive, you stubborn old bastard.”

His lips twitch, hints of a tense smile wishing to creep on his face. He puts his hands up on a calm gesture as he removes his backpack, removing the shotgun from it and pocketing a couple extra rounds as he stands back up. “I’ll be right back,” he says your name softly, his voice deep and rich, “I promise.”

As he walks away, you inhale a deep breath and your heart is beating. You’ve come to hate it when this happens, not that it did much. Whenever the three of you found yourselves in a tight situation with the infected, you each carried on with taking them down. You hated this, hated that he felt the need to do this on his own.

It fuckin’ sucked waiting.

Just as you were working yourself up more, you heard five consecutive shotgun blasts. Then silence. Ellie must have noticed your worry because she announced loud enough for Joel to hear, “Hey, I was thinking… I would’ve wanted to be an astronaut.”

“That a fact,” his voice rang out in the distance, echoing off the library walls.

“Yeah, can you imagine being up there all by yourself? Would’ve been cool. I’m just sayin’.”

You opened up the gate, leading Whiskey inside the library, still simmering with whatever the hell you were feeling. Ellie trotted her horse past you to another gate, this one opening with a panel and leading back outside to the courtyard on the right.

Faintly you could hear presumably Joel starting up a generator three times and then panel next to the gate lit up. You pressed the button, opening it up then went back to Whiskey, jumping up into his saddle.

Joel came back down the steps and grabbed the reins to Callus and his eyes fell on you, “Told you I’d be right back.”

“What about you? What’d you want to be,” Ellie asked him.

Joel looked away, focusing on something in the distance as you all walked out the opened gate. He scratched at his beard and admitted, “Oh… well, when I was a kid I used to want to be a… a singer.”

You raised your eyebrows and gave a small laugh, Ellie did too. “Shut up,” she said jokingly.

“I’m serious.”

“Sing something”

“Ah, no.”

“Come on, I won’t laugh,” she begged.

“I don’t think so.”

You watched as they both bickered over this, Ellie even tried to pull you into the conversation, saying your name, “Come on, tell him we won’t laugh!”

“Maybe he can treat us after a successful creation of the cure,” you compromise. Joel turns to you and ponders.

“We’ll see.”

The three of you make your way down the steps, then turning to the left, continuing your trek to the science center. Ellie gets Joel's attention, “She said she wasn’t sure what she would have done.”

“Is that so?”

You shift your weight on Whiskey, “Yeah. I mean, I like history now but back then? I didn’t really have a plan after graduating high school. I didn’t really click with anything, y’know?”

He absorbs that information and ponders. “Yeah, I get it.”

The silence took over and whatever anxiety you had was lessening yet amplifying the closer you got to the building, still wary of the fact you hadn’t seen any sign of the Fireflies aside from the abandoned look-out. Joel got back up on Callus as you approached the center of the school and together with Whiskey, jumped over another barricade.

The view in front of you was a much larger campus courtyard, with a giant fountain in the center decorated with a statue in the middle of it. Ellie was the first to notice a small group of bright orange monkeys and cooed at them as they chattered and swung around the clearing.

“That was kinda awesome,” she said as they swung away into a nearby building.

You smiled at her reaction and asked, “First time seeing a monkey?”

She nodded and repeated, “First time seeing a monkey!”

Atop the two horses, you all keep looking around searching for a sign of life but finding nothing. Leading you all down another outside corridor. Joel offers, “Maybe these guys like to keep a low profile.”

Ellie, now sounding less energetic, half-heartedly agrees.You bank right, vaguely remembering where to go when she points to a wall to the left. “Hey, look. Fireflies.” When you turned to look, you noticed the old wall tag.

“Yeah, it was to help point the way to the building we were in, in case new recruits got lost or something like that,” you tell her.

You pull into another corridor that is also blocked with a gate. To the right of the wall is a painted sign, saying ‘disconnect generator when not on duty’ in bold white letters.

Together, each of you gets off Whiskey and Callus and attempts to lift the gate to find it won’t work. The damned thing wouldn’t budge. Joel grumbles, “Probably have to find the generator.” He walks to a barricaded doorway to the right and peers around it then kneels. “It’s gotta be through here.”

“Joel, you are not going by yourself again,” you tell him.

He looks over his shoulder at you and cocks an eyebrow at you. The two of you, once again, locked in this damned game. He sizes you up with an intense stare and he already knows he’s won. You groan loudly, “If you die in there, just remember I told you so, old man.”

“Watch Ellie, you damned brat.”

He turns and crawls under the barricade, giving you a bit of a nice show of his ass before entirely disappearing. You roll your eyes to yourself as you turn back around, standing near Ellie and the two horses.

“So,” she starts.

“So?”

“What’s going on between you and Joel?”

It was so unbelievably hard to keep your face in check, to keep your internal screaming from etching your facial expression. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Ellie.”

“You both look like you want to fucking kill the other in their sleep.”

“That’s because I do.” Amongst other things.

You cross your arms in front of you, mindlessly showing your defensiveness on the topic and definitely not trying to tell the obviously fourteen-year-old who has never had the sex talk about how your body is screaming with alarms to get dicked down by the first person you see. Mentally scolding yourself for your predicament. How dare he.

“That’s just Joel,” she says. “He’s always like that.”

“He needs to learn how to work as a team or else we’re all going to end up dead, or worse.”

Gunshots cut the conversation short, the two of you ducking close to the ground, both pulling out weapons. It was difficult to tell where the shots came from because the two of you were still in a tunnel but you whisper-shouted, “Joel!”

Nothing but eerie silence responded to your call, settling in your bones. It took everything you had in you to not bolt and look for the man but both you and Ellie looking around for any sign of him. “Son of a bitch, this is exactly what I was talking about,” you groan frustrated.

Seconds ticked by that dragged into forever-long minutes. You weren’t a nervous person on missions, always trying to stay hyper-focused but truthfully, you don’t know how you’d handle the return journey with just Ellie.

Before you could work the nerve to go search through the maze of dorms, Ellie notices him before you, “Joel! Are you okay? What happened in there?”

“More infected, I’m fine,” he shouts, exiting a door from the far left, as he runs over to where you and Ellie were standing still, waiting for him.

“Here - come open the gate!”

As Joel pulls the generator to the wall to plug it in, Ellie tells him, “Holy shit you’re lucky you came out of there alive. She almost ran in after you.”

Suddenly you felt like you couldn’t breath under your coat as you gave Joel a sheepish look. “I didn’t want to have to explain to Tommy that I got his brother killed, alright? Don’t let it get to your big head, cowboy.”

Joel raised a brow at you then grunted, resuming to kickstart the generator to power the gate. It came alive kind of loudly but you resigned, only to mount your horse again choosing to ignore whatever Joel or Ellie could be thinking.

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darkhymns-fic · 3 years

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A New World of All of Us

There's a lone inn that stands in the middle of nowhere, once a place for those on pilgrimage to rest during a leg of their journey. But few speak the name of the Goddess anymore...

Two travelers come by, unfamiliar, but with a dog. But a customer was a customer.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairing: Lloyd Irving/Colette Brunel, Noishe, Original Characters Rating: PG Chapters: 1 of 3 Mirror Link: AO3 Notes: For Colloyd Week, Day 6: Let's go explore the new world together! I suddenly wanted to write a story with OCs, but with Lloyd and Colette being the main focus still! So, this is what came of it, and it's not complete yet! But there is a first chapter of hopefully just three altogether. If you read and enjoy, please let me know! And thank you everyone for Colloyd Week this year!

For the inn that was placed on the crossroads leading between Iselia and Triet, many still called it a House of Salvation whenever they passed by the structure.

It wasn’t such a surprise as to why they still did- for ever since it was claimed by the new owners, they hadn’t done much changes to its original architecture. It still maintained its two stories, shaped like a pillar, with a great open area inside on the first floor. Where once the symbols of Martel would be decorated along the walls with banners and silk, where the humble statue of Spiritua would be placed on the small prayer dais in the front, with mats on the floor to cushion a worshipper’s knees, it was now just a general dining area for visitors, with an innkeeper’s counter placed to the side. The prayer alcove had been converted to a delicacy stand, selling the innkeeper’s homemade treats they had baked for the day.

Upstairs were still the rooms for the weary to rest, once mainly meant for those on a pilgrimage. But many didn’t really go on pilgrimages anymore – none but the very devout few, who still believed in the Goddess that now watched over a newly remade world.

Mara didn’t really think much about that really. Seeing the time as the sun lowered in the sky, she stepped out of the barely renovated inn, a broom in hand, and proceeded to sweep up the dirt on their front steps. But the broom was a little too tall for her, and she struggled to keep it elevated just right as she went about her task. She also hadn’t done the laundry recently, so her dress was a mixture of dust and polka-dots, and her boots were scuffed from the mud from a few days back when she had to handle a few maintenance tasks in the rain.

Then again, business had been slow these days, and it wasn’t like there were patrons around to keep up appearances for…

And her brother hadn’t been back for many hours. He had left this morning for the nearest town, and already it was practically sunset, the horizon letting her know with its orange glow. “I should have gone with him,” she muttered to herself, pushing out the broom in an odd angle that nearly made her lose her balance. She squeaked, held onto a nearby fence railing, feeling the slow burn of embarrassment flood her face. “And he needs to get me a new broom too…”

She might only have been half as embarrassed as she was, if not for hearing the voice that was, apparently, not too far off. “Uh, excuse me? Kid?”

Mara had only been lucky enough to cut off her own terrified shriek, clutching at her broom like a weapon as she turned. In front of her, the man that had called out to her held up both hands – and they looked to be very red hands? “Whoa, sorry! I… I was just checking if you were open!”

Ah. Damn. She had done it again. She had nearly scared away another customer.

“Hold on! I mean… welcome to the All Hands Spiritua Inn! Where we accept hands of all kinds from all walks of life!” She had said that way…way too loud. Mara did all she could to not wince from all that blunder that came out of her mouth. “Have you seen our pamphlets in town?”

“Huh? Uh, no not really…” Even though this guy was clearly unsure about the whole situation… he wasn’t exactly backing away! Mara tried to take that as a good sign. “Just happen to know this place from a few years back… This is an inn now, right?” He pointed at the sign that was hanging off the front, the hinge off the left just a tad bit lopsided. “Is it alright if we stayed?”

Mara opened her mouth to shout a resounding YES to his question. Then she looked at him for just a bit longer, trying to determine his age, coming up with maybe in his mid-twenties or so… The red hands she had been seeing was from the gloves he wore (instead of being really badly sunburned like she’d been thinking), which matched with the red of his outfit, at least from what she could tell. He wore a brown traveling cloak that was clasped at the collar, nearly reaching his feet. From his motions, she could hear the familiar clinking of metal – weapons, she gathered. A mercenary? Or was he a bandit?

But then, she figured he’d try to be a little more subtle with his weapons if he was coming here to steal her gald under the pretenses of being a customer… His hair was also a bit unkempt, waves of russet hair that under the setting sun, seemed to turn into a darker red if she squinted at it just so. There was only just the hint of stubble on his chin, his missed days of shaving catching up to him.

Then she thought about what he said. “Pardon, who’s we?” She didn’t see anyone with him…

“Oh, me and my friend!” He smiled at her the moment he mentioned said friend, as if a light had just been turned on in the vicinity. “And our dog. Do you allow dogs here?”

“Of course!” she said immediately. “We get strays around here all the time anyway.” Too much, sometimes. Also, her brother wasn’t exactly fond of such strays for a certain reason, if she could just remember why…

“Great!” With that, the man in red turned, put both hands around his mouth and yelled, “Heeey!! It’s all good!!”

Huh. Maybe this guy was a bit stranger than she thought. Well, she had already invited him to stay so there was nothing she could do. I probably should have asked if he had money first….

When she started wondering if he was calling in backup of other bandits to rob her blind, she saw the figure he was calling for. Someone who was just in the distance, half-hidden in shadows by the setting sun. From where she stood, it looked like a horse-rider, and as said horse seemed to gallop forward, its rider waved back happily.

The man waved back so strongly, enough to nearly knock off the cloak from his shoulder. Mara raised an eyebrow. Why did he act like he hadn’t seen this person in forever?

As the figure got closer, she barely could see much else at all. They were dressed in the same brown cloak as the man but it covered them from head to toe, complete with a hood that was pulled over their head. All Mara could make out were the white gloves they wore, which held lightly onto the mane of the horse they rode.

“Hello, I hope we’re not intruding,” they finally said. The voice was soft, slightly higher-pitched – and by then, Mara saw the stray locks of blonde hair as they fell out of the hood. She had been so entranced by the figure that she hadn’t noticed the horse they rode until it was basically in front of her.

It then started to…whine?

Wait, that wasn’t a horse! Mara blinked, looking at the creature with its snout, its overly large ears that fanned out from the sides of its face, its fur with varying shades of green. It was a… what was it?

“Noishe here doesn’t bite,” the man said with a grin, ruffling the creature’s fur, unmindful to the giant ears that looked as if they would whack him across the face at any moment. “He’s a real good dog.”

Mara blinked. “Excuse me. Dog?” She glanced at the creature, noting those familiar features, yet… “That’s a dog.”

“Yep! Would you like to pet him?” spoke the figure – the woman, she finally figured – who still sat atop the dog. Who rides a dog?!

“I’m… I’m fine.” Mara still held her broom, half defensively, even though one end of it was dangerously close to unbalancing herself again. “Well, lucky for your…dog… we have the stables already cleaned out, so you can settle it there.”

“Thanks.” The man grinned, hands on his knees as he peered down at her from his height. She mentally groaned, already knowing what was coming. “Hey, so, are your parents around?”

Yes, of course this always happens, doesn’t it?

“And why would you want to know that?” she countered back.

This predictably threw the guy for a loop, making him blink and stare dumbfounded for a solid five seconds. “Well, it’s kinda scary for kids to be by themselves, you know? And we wanted to ask the owners of this place a few things.”

“You’re looking at her.” Okay, co-owner, but it was still the truth.

He blinked again. “Huh?”

“I’m not a kid.” Mara frowned, standing up tall. “I’m eighteen years old!”

The guy scratched the back of his head, smiling nervously. “I mean… you kinda still are…”

“It’s nice to meet you, Miss Owner,” said the lady from behind him. She had dismounted from her dog (?) and finally pulled down her hood. Mara held her breath when she saw how the woman had a cascade of golden hair that was arranged in a braid, turned darker by the setting sun, and nearly reaching her waist.

Something about her also seemed… different to Mara, the way she smiled, or the curve of it, at least. She felt a sense of elegance from her, and wondered if maybe she was one of those priests from years back. But the Church of Martel’s influence had waned over the years, and most of its clergy had long abandoned the cloth with the appearance of Tethe’alla.

“My name is Colette,” said the woman, subtly breaking the silence. “Is it okay to ask for your name?”

Mara considered, then nodded. It was nice for some people to have manners here. “I’m Mara. I run this inn with my brother, whose getting us food for tonight’s dinner. I can promise you two a warm meal in a bit if you stay.” Then she pointedly looked at the man. “And be sure to treat me with respect like any adult!”

She was pleased to see the man looked thoroughly embarrassed, still scratching away at that itch on his scalp. “Ehe… Sorry.” A gentle nudge from the woman named Colette startled him for a moment, before his worried face was replaced with a big grin. “Oh yeah, and my name’s Lloyd! Thanks for having us.”

Remember to be nice to people. She could hear her brother’s words in her head and tried her best to cut off any tones of snark in her voice. “Not any trouble. We’re happy you’ve chosen us at the All Hands Spiritua Inn! Now come right this way!” She winced again, seeing the somewhat stunned look on the others faces. She always went overboard like this, or just be grumpy to people otherwise…

After getting the dog to lay somewhat comfortably in the hay (and the woman insisting on giving the giant weird-looking dog a few belly scratches on the tummy), she finally led them inside through the double doors, warning to watch their step on the stoop of the entrance. It was always higher than expected, and she’d had to mentally train herself to hop over it every time or risk a little stumble.

The guy named Lloyd followed her example, deftly hopping over the stoop. The woman named Colette deftly did not.

Mara felt as if she watched Colette’s fall in slow-motion, hearing her startled yell, seeing the way she flailed her arms, which made the cloak around her flutter like a pair of burlap wings – revealing a stark-white outfit that she was wearing underneath – and then fall flat on her face against the floorboards.

Any impression of elegance Mara felt from her instantly went flying out the window.

Lloyd rushed to her side, grasping Colette by her arm. “Colette! You alright?”

“Ehe…” Colette raised her head to Lloyd, already a bruise forming on her forehead. Mara had to wince at that. Ouch. “Sorry. Guess I tripped again.”

“That looked like it really hurt,” he commented, pulling her up gently, their boots making the floor creak.

“Kind of, yeah…”

“Uh, I can get you some ice and a salve for that bruise, miss,” Mara helpfully offered, realizing soon that maybe she should. And since it was their inn that this had happened, she didn’t want any weird legal matters happening.

“That’s okay, I’ll just sleep it off,” Colette said, smiling gently again – just now with a little bump on her forehead. It kinda ruined the effect…

“Yeah, and we got plenty of apple gels to help!” Lloyd looked strangely proud about that, but once he turned back to Colette, his expression went back to concern. “Come on, let’s go upstairs. Oh, wait-” Now back to Mara with questioning eyes. “Uh, is it still just one room up there?”

He said that so specifically that Mara was caught off guard from it. It was true that this place had only one room upstairs, fitted with multiple beds to house people in need of rest. They had kept meaning to put some walls in, or at least dividers, but they never really had time for it. “Yes! It’s just at the top of the stairs. I’ll let you know when dinner is ready.”

“Thanks.” The guy gave her a thumbs up (How weird) and then led Colette up the stairs, their cloaks the last thing Mara saw as they ascended. She thought she also saw Colette’s face continually looking towards downstairs, especially to the dining area specifically.

Once they were out of sight, and she heard the door click softly, she remembered something very important.

Crap, she thought, tightening her hands on the broom she was still holding for some reason. I forgot to ask them to pay…

“Is it really not okay to look around there?”

“Maybe not yet… Don’t want to weird that kid out - and he’s not here anyway. Maybe we can try at dinner. Also… you really should rest that bump of yours.” A small laugh. “Sorry I didn’t catch you.”

“It’s okay. My clumsiness is supposed to be lucky, remember? Maybe this means we’ll find what we’re looking for.”

“Heh, you know, you’re right!” A creaking of the bed as someone on it, followed by the sound of shuffling, like someone rummaging through a pack. “Got the apple gels here. You should have some.”

“Okay. Can you feed them to me?” Followed by a light giggle.

A sigh, but there was laughter in it, warm and sweet. “You dork.”

When Tavi finally neared the inn, it was with labored breathing, his legs rushing fast across the roads. On his back, he lugged a heavy satchel filled with day-old bread, hastily preserved meat and cheese, along with a few spare gels and any other foodstuff that he could get at a bargain. He tried to keep it steady with his left hand, grasping at one of the straps on his shoulder, making sure it didn’t tilt and carry him down with it.

In his right hand, he held onto the hilt of his sheathed sword. His Exsphere glinted from the shine of the twin moons overhead, seemed to burn from where it was set, just beneath his knuckles.

The attacks on the roadsides had been more frequent lately.

Tavi was at least fast when he needed to be, hoping he had lost his pursuers along the way. A quick shift into a thicket of trees, using what little magic he knew to sweep away his footprints, and his sharp ears could finally just hear the soft chirping of crickets at his feet, the rustle of soft wings as they flapped above him.

As long as they didn’t know where he was headed… they’d be fine. They would have to be.

The inn was a welcome sight to him, looking strangely so pastoral in the nighttime. The paint on its right side was peeling off, and the lower awning that stretched just beneath the second floor was eaten away by mildew, but all in all… it wasn’t half-bad of a place.

He only slowed down his run to a light jog, sword slightly rattling against his leg as he did so, when he saw something using the stables they had. But it was covered in shadow, possibly sleeping inside. There was fresh hay and the trough was filled with water. Was Mara taking in stray cats again? Much of the felines liked to roam the woods near their inn, sometimes curling up on the roof, mewling out into the night. Though now, it was rather quiet…

Shaking his head, he then quickly sprinted to the inn once he saw how close he was. He pushed open the double doors, deftly hopping over the little out-of-line step with ease as he did so.

He was then met with a broom to the face.

“By the Goddess, Tavi!” Mara shouted, hopping on one foot as she jerked back the broom before she did any more damage. “You can at least knock to let me know you’re here!”

“Can you not tell it’s me by now?” he argued, spitting out a few broom bristles from his mouth. “You’re so jumpy.”

“I think I have every right to be?” spoke his sister. “You never consider how I feel.”

Though older than him by two years, she was much shorter than him, just coming up to the middle of his chest. She had a head of green hair cut just at the chin, yet still covering up her ears. In her polka-dotted apron and big boots that looked like they should belong to a blacksmith instead of a small innkeeper, she was always quite a strange sight to see.

He shook his head at her with a laugh. “At least help me with the groceries, I’m about to break my back in half from all this.” He played up the struggle as he slowly removed the satchel, bemoaning all the while. “Treat your elders right!”

“I’m older than you! Enough with that joke!”

Tavi grinned, but Mara had laid her broom against the counter to reach up for the foodstuff and promptly walked away to the kitchen. “We we have customers now. I’ll have to make them dinner too.”

As Tavi tried to tie back his long red hair, he paused in mid-action, then rounded on Mara. “What? Right now?” He groaned. “I didn’t buy enough to feed more than us! How many are there?!”

“Then I guess you’ll have to tighten your belt!” Mara wagged a finger at him. “Besides, it’s just two of them. They seem pretty harmless, and we need the money! They’ve been up in their room for the past hour, so don’t go waltzing upstairs right now.”

Then she pointed that wagging finger at his hand. “And you’ll need to hide that. Or are you forgetting to do that while in town?”

Tavi instinctively place his other hand over the Exsphere, feeling a strange sense of self-consciousness. “I know. I just… got it torn off by a tree branch earlier while I walked.” He wasn’t lying when he said that either.

Maybe Mara suspected, maybe she worried… But instead she walked back into the kitchen, hefting the satchel more easily than her height would seem to say. “Oh, and they have a dog too. A really big one at that, just so you know.”

Tavi choked on his own spit, glaring at Mara once more. “Mara, did you just forget that I’m allergic to dogs?”

At the door to the kitchen, Mara stopped. She turned back to him slowly. “I did actually.”

“Please, Mara…”

“Just don’t go near it! It’s outside now anyway, and they’ll be gone by morning I’m sure.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, taking in a deep breath. At the very least, there was no dog fur near him. “Fine. I’ll be by for dinner,” he said, then headed for one of his own rooms that was to the right of the main alcove of the building – which was more of a storage room that he had converted into his very own.

He figured he’d have to look nice for his guests, and picked up an old mirror that needed a good cleaning, trying to fix up the messy locks of red hair that had been tousled everywhere during his run.

With how tall he was, his lanky frame, and his own bright hair compared to Mara’s, no one would have ever taken them both to be brother and sister. Not unless one happened to catch the subtle points of their ears.

He made sure, as he combed his hair, to cover that part of himself. Better to be safe than stabbed, he thought wryly.

Noishe, in his pen, scrabbled at the hay to make himself comfortable. Some of the water from the trough had spilled over as he lapped it earlier, so he made sure to gather the drier parts of the hay to rest on comfortably.

It had been a long couple of weeks of travel, and he was looking forward to rest. But even Noishe knew he might not get that tonight…

From his position, he poked out his head from the stable, hearing the door shut suddenly. He raised his head up to the windows, seeing the light flicker out quickly inside. Only by the moon could he see the shape of familiar faces, familiar hands.

He remembered Lloyd’s hurried look from earlier, Colette’s soft words of reassurance. It had been tough recently, but always they had each other. In the light of the morning, he’d never seen smiles as bright as theirs.

They deserved a good night’s rest, too.

Still, Noishe kept his ears up as he settled on the hay, remembering the hurried footsteps from the stranger. Maybe, at the very least, the early evening could have some calmness before the storm.

#tales of symphonia #colette brunel #lloyd irving #colloyd #colloydweek2021 #fanfiction #multi chapter

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rusty-tetanus-nail · 4 years

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[Gunshots] Through Your Heart

a The C*W Sniper x Reader fanfic

The story of how You finding your One True Love finally released the Jackles Tapes™.

Author’s Note: If you actually read this fic, I will judge you.

It's the first non-virtual con since the finale and you've paid half a month’s rent to see the monkeys on stage awkwardly talk their way out of giving the gays what they really want. You've long since lost hope of anyone so much as acknowledging Cas' confession, but as long as Jensen keeps his sexy silence intact you're at peace with that.

The fandom knows what's up anyway, even if the C*W tries to silence everyone involved with the show. You chuckle, remembering that one time when you opened tumblr and everyone was talking in riddles about [gunshots]. It took you at least an hour to figure out where that particular meme came from, but that's just season 16 for you. The confusion is half the fun. Of course the fandom would come up with the most ridiculous explanations as to why the cast and crew aren't allowed to validate Hellers, instead of just facing the reality that they all don't get it and have wrong opinions about things.

You open yet another nondescript brownish looking door, trying to find your way back to the panel hall. Whoever thought colour coding every single signpost and door instead of just using letters and arrows to point the way deserves to be fired.

You take a deep breath to calm down and look at your phone.

"Fuck!" You curse out loud. You're so late. The main panel has already started and you're still utterly lost with no one nearby to ask for directions.

...not that you would ask for directions. You shudder. Egh people.

You hear a faint cheering coming from behind the dark wooden door at the end of the deserted corridor. Bingo!

You run across the hallway, so ready to see the convention madness for yourself and open the door with a grin.

Instantly, the cheering grows louder and then subsides, leaving room for someone to speak. You look around confused. You can hear the panel just fine, but you’re not in the main hall.

Cautiously, you take a step forward. No that's not quite right. You are in the right room, but in the wrong place. Instead of being on the ground floor looking up at the actors on the stage, you’re on a balcony of sorts, hidden away near the ceiling. From here you can see everything. The whole crowd of fans, the stage. It's not the first row seat that you paid the other half of this month’s rent for, but it’s a nice view nevertheless and feels far less claustrophobic than downstairs with all the people around you doing their best to give you a headache. Maybe you'll just stay here and enjoy the rest of the show. No point in missing more of it than you already have.

You lean against the railing and watch as a staff member gives the microphone to a nervous looking fan. You cross your fingers, silently cheering them on, hoping they'll get through this in one piece.

The fan starts to talk and from the corner of your eyes you see something move. Startled, you stumble forward over the railing and for a moment you're certain that this is how you die.

A hand grips you tight by your several layers of flannel and pulls you back onto the floor of the balcony saving you from certain death.

You look up in a daze and see the silhouette of your saviour illuminated by the ceiling lights standing over you holding a sniper rifle. Somewhere in the distance you hear the fan continue their question ignorant of your almost death.

Your saviour moves with practiced ease back to the railing and aims their weapon at the people below.

Shit. This can’t be happening. You try to get up and stop them from whatever they're about to do, but when you reach the figure and grab their wrist it's already too late.

"So about the Cartwright Twi-" [gunshots]

The fan falls to their knees and is carried off as someone on stage lets out an uncomfortable laugh and makes a joke about fainting. You watch the proceedings in shock, still gripping the sniper's wrist.

"What did you do?" You bite out, more harshly than you intended. In the back of your mind you know you should probably run away instead of arguing with the assassin, but there’s just something about them that makes you feel safe and unthreatened.

"My job." A gruff voice replies and as they turn you finally catch a first proper glimpse at the sniper's face. You let go of them almost immediately.

Oh no. They're hot.

The sniper pulls their wrist close to their chest and strokes the parts of their skin that your hand previously occupied. And odd knot forms in your stomach. You take a step closer and they shift away unused to the presence of another person.

You try to reach out again, but think better of it. You don’t want to scare the beautiful person in front of you. Your hand falls down limply to your side and the sniper follows your movements with their eyes still refusing to look directly at you.

You open your mouth to ask who they are, but you get interrupted when Jensen starts speaking. Instantaneously the sniper is all business again, aims their rifle and-

“Actually I think Dean is b-” [gunshots]

Jensen bends over and starts coughing violently, his sentence hanging forever unsaid in the room.

The sniper lowers their gun and looks emotionlessly at the scene they just caused.

“You’re-” You start, but the sniper holds up their hand to stop you.

“Don’t. Just go and pretend you never saw anything or I’ll shoot you as well.”

You shake your head.

“No. I don’t think you will.” Taking a chance you close the distance between the both of you and take the sniper’s free hand, intertwining your fingers with theirs. Their breath hitches as you touch them and they lower their eyes, but don’t move away. You take it as a good sign.

“You’re the C*W Sniper, aren’t you?” You whisper astonished. “I can’t believe you’re real.”

A fan with a faintly Spanish sounding accent is given the microphone. With their free hand the sniper reaches down and pulls out a gun from their thigh holster and- [gunshots]

What was once an almost unnoticeable accent is now unrecognizable word salad. Everyone laughs and writes the incident off as the fan simply being nervous. You frown.

“This isn’t right.”

“They’ll be able to speak again in a couple of minutes.”

You tighten your fingers around the snipers hand and try to unsuccessfully catch their eyes.

“Still doesn’t make it right. You didn’t even know if they’d mention anything about-”

The sniper aims their gun at you.

“I have my orders.”

Your eyes finally meet for the first time and the previous argument is forgotten as the world around you bursts into vibrant colours.

“What the f-”

This isn’t possible. You’ve always been severely colour blind. People don’t just randomly heal from that. You shouldn’t be seeing any of this.

The sniper's cold eyes grow warm and mirror your own in wonderment. They look around before settling their eyes back on you and a soft “oh” escapes their lips.

“You’re my soulmate.” Their rough voice takes on a heart wrenching tone and you shake your head disbelievingly.

“No. Soulmates aren’t real. They were made up for fanfics.”

“That’s what the CW wants you to think.” The sniper says with a sad smile and breaks eye contact again. “The CW’s reach and power is far greater than anything you could possibly imagine.”

You cup the sniper’s face with your free hand and softly stroke their cheek with your thumb, almost entranced at the new connection you made with the not quite stranger in front of you. The sniper closes their eyes and leans into your touch. Your heart starts pounding and you wish for the moment to never end.

“You should leave.”

“Not without you.” You reply not missing a beat, trying not to get distracted by the sniper’s full lips and delicate features contrasting their hard battleworn exterior.

“I’m not safe to be around. I’ve hurt people.” The sniper turns around and lets go of your hand, but you hold on tight, too scared they’ll disappear as suddenly as they entered your life. Clutching their hand tightly, you pull them close and swirl them around forcing them to face you.

“I don’t care.” You say resolutely. “Whatever hold the C*W has on you, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

The sniper shakes their head and looks frantically over to the stage where Jensen is about to give his phone to a staff member.

“I- I can’t. I have to- I have nothing else but this.” They aim their gun at the stage, but you gently push their raised arm down. Your sniper doesn’t resist, but their hands are trembling. They’re scared, you realise. They’re scared and they need you.

“You have me. Please, I promise. Everything will be alright. Let me take care of you.”

The gun falls to the ground and the sniper lets themself be enveloped into your embrace. You hold them tightly as they fall apart in your arms and wait patiently until they stop shaking all the while whispering sweet reassurances into their ear.

“It won’t be easy.” They mumble against your shoulder and straighten up to look into your eyes. “The C*W will want to eliminate us. I’m not their only assassin.”

“Let them come. We’ll make them regret ever messing with us.” You say with a wicked grin and your sniper grins back with tears in their eyes.

You throw your arms over your snipers shoulders and lean your forehead against theirs.

“I’d really like to kiss you now.”

“Yes please.” The sniper says, almost breathlessly and you capture your soulmate’s lips for the first time.

Fireworks explode in your soul and the crowd cheers as the Jackles Tapes are finally released and played on the big screen behind Jensen and Misha, who take the opportunity to ask every minor to leave the room as they’re about to reenact the secret good ending of Supernatural.

#spn #supernatural #destiel #cockles #???#well at least mentioned and maybe implied. idk at this point #how do i tag this?#crack fic #I had way too much fun making the terrible stock photo banner XD #cw sniper

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jacksonroseroth · 4 years

Text

Blind Date Part 3

A/N: Thanks to everyone who made it this far on my first Baze fic! :) I hope you like Part 3!

Warnings: None

Words: 2,379

Moodboard made by @badwolf-in-the-impala, none of the pictures are ours

They rode as many rides as their tickets allowed before deciding on riding the Ferris Wheel after dinner, then made their way back to the front of the pier and got a table for two at Bubba Gump’s. They were seated outside and by the railing which made Taddie extremely happy. She glanced over the menu, quickly deciding on what she wanted, then shrugged off her jacket and gazed out over the beach and the water as Baze asked their waiter a few questions. He glossed over his menu before the silence truly registered and he looked up, over the menu, at Taddie. A small smile touched his lips.

Taddie leaned her chin in her hand and had a content smile on her face as her eyes bounced around, taking in the scenery. She slid her fingers through her hair and her curls resettled. In doing so, she tucked more of her hair behind her ear and Baze caught a glimpse of silver at the tip of her ear. As his smirk grew a little more, he lowered the menu and said, “Is that a cartilage piercing?”

Taddie turned to him and her hand shot up to her ear. With a soft laugh, she nodded, twisting the jewelry around for a moment, and said, “Yeah. I’ve had it for a long time. Christmas 2011, I think?”

Baze let out a brief, low whistle, then chuckled. “Nothing else pierced?” He asked, letting his eyes casually roam her face. Taddie shook her head and said, with a shrug, “Nope. Just the cartilage and two on each lobe. I kind of want my nose pierced though? But I’m terrified that I’ll accidentally rip it out and just the thought of that hurts.”

Taddie smirked as Baze let out a short laugh. “Yeah, I’ve ripped out a few earrings. I can’t imagine ripping it out of my nose.” He chuckled. Taddie nodded and wrinkled her nose slightly, then smiled. Their waiter soon returned with the answers to one of Baze’s questions and took their drink and appetizer orders.

“Double whiskey on the rocks and...Just the garlic bread to start with.” Baze said, giving the waiter a polite smile before looking at Taddie. At the mention of garlic bread, Taddie couldn’t help it as her eyes shot up to him and she tried not to smirk too hard.

“And for you, miss?” The waiter asked, turning to Taddie. With a brief lick of her lips, she looked away from Baze, up to the waiter and smiled, sweetly.

“Um...A glass of Moscato, please? And a water. Thank you.” She said. The waiter jotted it down and smiled at them both.

“Perfect. I’ll be right back with your drinks and your bread. And if you need anything, be sure to use the sign!” He said, giving a little hop and pointing two finger guns at the ‘Run, Forest, Run’ license plate sign at the end of the table. Taddie chuckled as he walked away then closed her menu and sat back, looking over at Baze.

“So, did Thea tell you I am a low key bread whore or am I just that obvious?” Taddie asked with a giggle. Baze smirked, letting out a soft snicker and shook his head, saying, “Nah, actually I was ordering for me. Did you want some?”

His smirk grew as Taddie laughed and kicked out her foot at him, gently. “Rude. Just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean I don’t eat. I have the munchies just like any other stoner.” She shot back. Now Baze laughed, sitting back and shaking his head, lightly. Taddie smirked and nudged his foot before pulling her legs back and crossing them at the ankle. Baze watched her, cocking his head to the side, slightly, then said, “How long have you known Thea?”

Taddie puckered her lips then exhale through them as she sat back. “God...All our lives? She’s actually my cousin and we’re as close as sisters.” She said with a soft chuckle. Baze raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the edge of the table.

“Really? How did I never hear about you before tonight then?” He asked with a soft chuckle. Taddie shrugged and chuckled, softly.

“I mean, she doesn’t go blasting my shit around, but I’m sure she has mentioned me in a few stories about when she was younger. We were really wild back in the day.” Taddie said with a giggle. “But she might have called me Theo. My full name is Theodora.”

“Theodora? Really?” Baze asked with a chuckle. Taddie tilted her head and gave him a look with a tight smile on her face. She couldn’t help her giggle as she said, “Are you making fun of me? Theodora is a badass name.”

“No! No, it is. It is. I just wasn’t expecting that.” Baze said. Taddie narrowed her eyes at him briefly before the look faded away and she chuckled.

“What did you think Taddie was short for?” She asked, shifting in her seat to sit forward. Baze shrugged and said, “Dunno. Only thing I could think of is some little kid called you ‘Taddie’ instead of ‘Addie’?” When Taddie shook her head, Baze added, “So what made the change from Theo to Taddie?”

“Well, everyone mixed us up all the time; Me and Thea. I wanted to start going by Thea, but I started living with her when we were 16, so that pretty much flew out the window.” Taddie said with a laugh. She gave a shrug and said, “I dunno, I was at school one day and some kid was tossing out nicknames and he came up with Thaddie, it stuck but people dropped the ‘H’ and started calling me Taddie.”

“I like Taddie. It’s different. It’s cool.” Baze said, his voice a little lower and softer. A soft blush formed on Taddie’s cheeks as she fought her smile from growing. Thankfully, the waiter returned with their drinks and set the basket of bread on the table. After giving their order, the waiter left and Baze grabbed his glass, lifting it for a toast. Taddie chuckled and picked up her glass, touching it to his.

“What are we toasting to?” She asked, leaving her hand there, waiting. Baze chuckled and gave a small shrug, saying, “Blind dates? Sneaky friends who may actually know what they’re doing?”

“Oh? So tonight is going well?” Taddie teased, pulling her glass from his and to her lips to take a sip. Baze nodded as he took a drink and set the glass down.

“I think so...What about you?” He asked, watching her. Taddie nodded and smiled as she set her glass down. “I think so too.”

She crossed her arms on the table and leaned closer. Baze smirked and met her halfway, gently planting a kiss on her lips. Taddie giggled and slid her tongue over her lower lip then sucking it between her teeth, slightly, as he leaned away a little from her. Baze chuckled and picked up his glass for another drink before grabbing a piece of bread and ripping off a bite and chewing for a moment. Taddie shifted and placed one on her plate as well, then said, “Okay, I want to hear one of your stories now. I mean, while I’m a fan of Colson’s, I’ve seen some of the KellyVisions...Through no will of my own…So, I haven’t really seen them.”

Baze snickered softly and looked up at her. “Thea make you watch them?” He asked. Taddie nodded as she took a bite of her bread, quickly chewing and swallowing before she answered, “She’s been in love with Rook since she first found you guys. It took me a while for me to come around on you guys because she wouldn’t shut the fuck up about y’all.” She gave a giggle before adding, “But I came around. Anything she found funny or if we were bored in our apartment one night; it didn’t matter. I would spend like 2-3 hours watching videos with her and smoking. It was just...A thing we did.”

Baze laughed almost choking as he took another drink. Taddie took a sip of her wine and smirked. “I’m serious,” She said, taking another before setting the glass down. “It was quite ridiculous, I’m actually relieved she’s dating him.”

“Honestly, so are we. I don’t know what kind of hold Thea has on him, but, my boy has calmed down a lot in the last several months.” Baze chuckled, finishing the last bite of his garlic bread. “Well, there’s a lot of shit that happens on tour. We��d be here for several days.”

“She showed me a few spots of a video when you guys got caught in a hurricane in Mexico?” Taddie posited, picking up a second slice of bread and eating it. Baze snickered and shook his head, scratching at his beard before stroking it gently.

“Ah, shit. That was a long time ago. Shit was wild. Thought about eating Rook at one point.” He snickered. Taddie rolled her eyes and said, with a chuckle, “That was one of the parts Thea showed me.”

With a smirk, Baze nodded and said, “We were on the beach when we got the notice there was a hurricane. We were dumb and didn’t leave so we got caught in it kinda.” Baze chuckled to himself, remembering, as he said, “Kells and Rook got way too heated about a game of pool.”

Taddie gave a shrug and said, “It didn’t surprise me honestly.” She laughed, softly, and added, “I mean from what I know and what Thea showed me, y’all are wild.”

“Oh, yeah. Anything goes, honestly. That’s why it was brought up to eat Rook.” Baze said, picking up his glass as he gave her a wide toothy grin that made her chuckle. After taking a sip, he smacked his lips lightly and said, “Nah, we lost power that morning though. Almost the entire night too. Came back on late.”

“And you conveniently left out the newscast?” Taddie asked, trying to hide her smirk in her glass as she took another sip. Baze smirked and said, “She showed you that?”

“Um, it was almost immediately after the ‘eating Rook’ bit.” Taddie said, in a mock defensive tone, then giggled. Baze shook his head.

“Some wild shit happens with us, honey. At least Thea knew what she was in for.” Baze said, sitting back. Taddie shrugged and said, “I’ve heard some stories, so I wouldn’t be surprised at the shit y’all get into.”

Baze chuckled and said, “What about you, then? What do you do for work?” His eyes were fixed on her. Watching her as she smiled and looked away, a soft pink tinting her cheeks. With his eyes on her, he reached for a piece of bread the same time she had looked away to reach for one. When their hands collided gently in the basket, their eyes shot over at their hands, then back to each other with a twin chuckle.

“Well, I’m a photographer.” Taddie started, her fingers finding the edge of the bread and grabbing it. Baze’s hand slid over hers slowly before grabbing a piece and moving it to his plate quickly. Taddie blinked once, quickly glancing down at her plate as she set the bread down, then looked back up at him and said, “I actually work with Thea. Sometimes she has make-up gigs and her clients are okay with a quick photoshoot, both for them and for us. Or I’ll have a photoshoot and they request make-up and Thea tags along, I charge for Thea and we split what we get.”

“Effective.” Baze said with a chuckle. “You guys have your own business or just freelance?”

“Mainly freelance. But a few times a year one of us will be contracted for an event or a wedding or a shower or something. Just depending on the job, we’ll work it together.” She said with a smile. “It’s actually quite a relief I get to work with her. She knows me so well, it’s just easy for the most part. And that’s when we give our quality work.”

With an understanding nod as he set down his glass, Baze said, “It’s a hell of a lot easier working with someone who knows how you work. Takes the stress away.” Taddie let her head hang back as she let out a soft groan and said, “It’s the worst when you’re alone on a project and there’s some bitch who thinks she knows better because she has model experience.”

Baze laughed as she adopted an affected accent at the end. “That’s the worst, honestly. Like, bro, do you want to do my job or me? What are you paying me for? What are we doing here, my guy?” Baze said, acting out with his hands. A giggle fit descended over Taddie as she finished off the rest of her wine.

“It’s one of the reasons I refuse to go back to portrait studio work.” Taddie said, scrunching up her face at the thought. She shook her head and with a sigh, she said, “It’s basically retail and customer service. I broke down twice during my first Christmas season…Stressful as fuck. Especially when we were left there alone most of the time? I made sure I was out before the second. I was not going to endure that again, no Ma’am!”

Baze chuckled and shook his head, popping the last bite into his mouth and wiping off his hands. Before he could ask anymore questions, their waiter came back with their meals, placing the plates down and clearing the bread and small plates.

“Was there anything else I can get you? A refill on the wine, Miss?” He asked, gesturing to Taddie’s empty glass. Taddie shook her head and handed it to him.

“Oh. No, thank you. I think just the one glass is fine.” Taddie said with a polite smile. The waiter smiled and took the glass, also with a smile.

“Well, if there’s anything else, don’t forget the sign.” He said, gesturing to the sign again. With a chuckle, before he walked away, the waiter added, “Enjoy your meals.”

Hope you guys like it! Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist!

@badwolf-in-the-impala

#Baze #Baze Basil #Baze Fic #Baze Fan Fic #BazeXX #BazeXX Fic #BazeXX Fan Fic #EST19 #EST19XX #EST

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softstarfire · 4 years

Photo

Secret Apprentice: Chapter 4

The day Red S disappeared

Chapter 3 - Chapter 5 (AO3) (FF.NET)

Summary: The Teen Titan's fight Red X and Red S on the Wayne Tower in which they fought against Robin when he was Slade's Apprentice. Red X is very vocal with them, joking like every other day but he can't hide that something has changed for him. Starfire has changed too, her emotions are overwhelming her too much and the only one who can help her is the one they are fighting against. Will she lean on her team or on her new friend?

Chapter 4: The day Red S disappeared

The Titans got to the Wayne building on time. Starfire brought Robin flying through Jump City’s sky. Raven brought Cyborg and Beast Boy flew with them in the shape of an eagle. They all landed on the roof. The big sign that spelled the Wayne name stood in front of them. For a moment they silently stood there. It was the same building in which they fought against Robin when he became Slade’s apprentice. “This place gives me the creeps”, said Beast Boy, now back to his human self. “Tell me about it”, Cyborg mumbled looking at the leader. “I know”, Robin sighed. “But we are here to catch Red X. Any idea of what he’s looking for?”. A loud noise caught the Titan’s attention. “Just for fun”, a familiar voice responded. Red X sat on top of the A and beside him Red S stood firmly. “Titan’s go!”, as Robin yelled the regular call to action, Red X threw his classic gas bombs to distract them. The gas covered their sight so they couldn’t see where he went or if he even moved. When it dissipated, they saw both teens in the black uniform standing on the edge by the side of the building. The same side in which Robin and Starfire were put one against the other by Slade. “Come out and play, Titans”. Red S jumped off the building and Red X pushed the button that activated his clocking technology so he could vanish.

Beast Boy was the first one to run to the edge. He leaned forward to look for them, most importantly for Red S. “Where did she go?”, Beast Boy asked before jumping and shape shifting to a pterodactyl so he could run after her. But to his surprise, she was nowhere to be seen.

Robin jumped on one side of the big lit Y to look for Red X. He jumped letter to letter. Cyborg tried looking for him with his heat detection gadget built into his eye. Raven ran to the edge of the front of the building and still nothing. Robin got to the end of the letters and was about to fall from running and jumping too fast when he got to the E. Starfire immediately flew to his rescue but before she could touch Robin, Red X appeared in the middle of the two Titans. “What’s the matter, Robin? Brought back memories?”, Red X looked at him and he turned around to look at Starfire who was floating next to them. “Hello, cute stranger”, Red X let out a laugh and jumped off the letters. Robin jumped after him. Raven tried push Red X off, but he got to her first. He put a sticky X over her mouth and two on her hands so she couldn’t use them for her telekinetic powers. “Daddy is not coming to save you?”, the comment caught Raven by surprise, so her strength was affected. He kicked her away and when he did Cyborg blasted his Sonic Cannon, but Red X quickly used a new gadget on him. A small X that looked like a mirror and it reflected Cyborg’s attack on to himself. Robin ran to Red X and tried to push him with his BoStaff, but he ran away. X guided Robin through a door that led to the emergency stairs and he jumped to the floors beneath. Starfire flew after them confused, trembling but somehow, she was also intrigued.

Cyborg stood up and ran to Raven. He slowly removed the tape like Xs that were stuck on Raven’s pale skin. When he uncovered her mouth, she sighed. “What’s up with him?” “He’s playing with us”, Cyborg responded freeing her hands too. Then he helped her stand up. “You okay, Raven?”, he asked, and she just nodded. They ran to the door that the others went through but the lights on the roof suddenly exploded blinding them both. Overload appeared in front of them. “He’s also come out to play?”, Cyborg asked. “Lucky us”, Raven pointed out before summoning her powers to get Overload down.

Three floors beneath the rooftop Starfire flew through the offices and she couldn’t find Robin or Red X. The lights were turned off and the only illumination came from a balcony on the inside of the building that was surrounded by other smaller offices that had a front wall made of glass. When she got closer, she heard something and finally she saw Red X and Robin battling in the shadows. He kicked Robin away and turned to Starfire, who met them at the hallway next to the balcony. “Hey, cutie”, as he said that Robin punched him in the face, and he fell to the ground. “Such a-“, Starfire shoot a Starbolt at him and he avoided it. “You mind waiting for a bit?”, Red X asked before throwing one of the sticky Xs at her, pinning her to a wall. The Boy Wonder and the masked villain went back to their fist fight. They had almost the same style of fighting, Starfire noticed. Why would that be? Maybe Red X was a fan before becoming a villain. Maybe they were trained by the same team. Who trained Robin? She thought and then she lost sight of them. The two boys entered an office pushing each other. Robin used his Bo Staff to pin Red X to one of the glass walls. “What do you and Red S want?”, Robin asked. “Would it be fun if I just told you that?”, Red X pushed him away once more making him fall to the ground. “You are not fun, Robin. I don’t know what she sees in you really", Red X threw X shaped blade cutting Robin’s arm. “What do you mean?”. Robin stood up once again, covering the wound in his arm as some blood started coming out of it. “You know what I mean”, Red X walked to Robin slowly. “Is this about Starfire?”, the leader of the Titans asked. “It’s always been about her, isn’t it?”, Red X asked seriously standing in front of the Boy Wonder. “Don’t you think this is to much for-” “For her?”, Red X completed the question and the masked hero shook his head. “Look, you are no villain, X, you don’t have to do this. We can be…” “Friends? But you are not just her friend. Are you?”. Robin sighed. “Then who is Red S?”, he asked truly confused. “My friend”, Red X caught Robin in another sticky X, trapping his arms, then he pulled his utility belt off and punched him on the head to get him off his feet.

Starfire couldn’t hear what they were talking about and the silent was scaring her. She was shaking, she felt cold and she felt powerless. She tried pushing herself out of the X but she couldn’t. She tried to see where they went but she couldn’t. She tried to listen to what they were doing but she couldn’t. She couldn’t do anything, just like she couldn’t do anything for her planet now that Backfire was the new queen.

Then they appeared back on her line of sight. Red X had trapped Robin in a similar gadget to the one in which Starfire was stuck. Robin was struggling, trying to escape as Red X dragged him to an office next to where Starfire was pinned. “Robin!”, Starfire yelled his name as her eyes lit up. Red X looked at her. He pushed Robin into the empty office and closed the door, sealing it with a laser that he had in his gloves. “Now, for the cutie”, Red X walked to her as she struggled, trying to get herself out. “Don’t you dare touch her”, Robin shouted from inside the room as he tried to free himself to get to Starfire.

“What is this?”, she whispered as he got closer to her. Red X stood in front of her, his hands on his hips as he laughed at Starfire’s attempts to fight her way out of the X. “Just playing with my friends”, he replied, still just standing there in front of her. Starfire’s eyes lit up again, she felt a very strange wave of anger wash over her thoughts. She wasn’t familiar with this emotion as she hadn’t really felt this angry ever since she moved in with the Titans. Just that one time Blackfire tried to frame her for stealing.

“Besides, I figured I could help you out by bringing a hologram of Red S with me just in case there was any suspicion of your little secret”, he whispered, getting closer to her. Her eyes went back to the regular emerald color. Did he care about her? Red X put his right hand on the wall just beside her head. His left index finger lifted up her chin a little bit as he got closer to her. “We are partners after all”, he whispered. “Then let me go”, she replied. “It’s fun seeing you like this”, he let his head down for a bit as he laughed at her again. They both could hear Robin trying his best to get out of Red X’s trap. “Let me go!”, Starfire yelled. “Hey, I did something for you, give me a win”, he lifted his head back. The two teenagers argued in secretive whispers. The only light that illuminated them was the one that came from the floor above them through the balcony which was just meters away from the two. From the outside you could barely see them through the dark windows. That’s what Beast Boy thought as he flew next to that floor’s window and saw through one of them what looked like two people talking against a wall. He got closer to the glass to the window and then he saw something that didn’t make sense.

“Robin will notice”, she whispered. He nodded. He stepped back and got an X shaped blade out of his belt to cut the one that pinned Starfire to the wall. “Now, shoot me and I will just disappear, okay?”, he said as he walked back to the balcony in the middle of the hallway, his back against the metal and glass railing. She took off the rest of the sticky X. “I don’t want to hurt you”, she whispered once more. “Just do it, Star”, he opened his arms and she shot green lasers from her eyes. He immediately fell through the balcony and she ran to look for him. But he wasn’t there anymore, as he said, he vanished.

Beast Boy couldn’t believe it, he went back to the rooftop, where Cyborg and Raven had just defeated Overload. “Guys! You won’t believe what I saw. Well, what I think I saw. I was flying by the windows of the building looking for Red S and I couldn’t find her outside, so I figured she was inside. Then I started looking through the windows floor by floor and I saw something. I mean, I am not sure because it was very dark. But I think I saw Red X talking to Starfire and then he helped her out of his trap. Which I didn’t understand. Then she shot him, and he fell through the balcony. Before you say something, let me add, that I didn’t understand what had just happened. So, I went back to what I saw first and then it hit me”, Beast Boy hugged his two friends to get them closer. Cyborg tried to push his arm off his neck. “Come on, BB, you are not making any sense and it’s already been a really weird day”. Beast Boy shook his head. “Listen, listen, listen, let me talk”. Raven rolled her eyes. “I am trying to say this as kindly as I can, but you usually make no sense and I don’t think is time for one of your jokes”. Beast Boy gasped. “Raven, I am hurt but not surprised”, he spoke dramatically. “Spill it, BB!”, Cyborg punched him jokingly and Beast Boy yelled what he wanted to say. “Red X kissed Starfire!”.

He had said that at such a loud volume that Robin and Starfire could clearly hear it as they opened the door on the rooftop.

Everyone looked at the pair in silent.

“What the fuck?”, Cyborg asked laughing at Beast Boy’s claim. “Did you hit your head?”, he continued. “No, I am telling you. He kissed her. Right, Star?”, Beast Boy, looked back at her. She could unlock a new level in this game of lies that she was playing. She could play the victim and they would pity her. The would be angry at Red X and Robin would not stop until he caught the villain. But that wasn’t what she wanted. Red X was mean, sure, but he wasn’t a bad person.

“No, he didn’t do such thing. He was being mostly annoying”, she answered as the couple approached the rest of the team. “But you were talking to him”, Beast Boy pointed out.”I heard that”, Robin joined in. “What did he say to you?”, he looked at her and she imagined those blue eyes waiting for an answer. “He was being mean, he was talking about all of you-“, she got interrupted by Raven who asked her if Red X had revealed something about Red S.

“He said that... he said that he picked her because she looked like me but was disappointed when he noticed that I was not in the Tower when they got in. That’s why they came here, just so he could be mean to us and-“, Cyborg cut her this time. “I knew that. He is always trying to get Robin angry by picking on Starfire”, he pointed out. “Yes, he is”, Starfire agreed. “But that doesn’t explain why he stole the T ship. And the S. What if Slade is planning something and he sent them to steal the T ship”, Robin asked looking away from the team. “He isn’t”, Starfire responded and immediately bit her tongue. Robin turned back to look at her, “did he say that? What else did he say, Starfire?”, Robin was getting tense at the thought of the stolen T ship and the possibility that Slade was back after what he did to him. “No, I asked him and he said that he worked alone”, Starfire tried to take back what she had just said. But the whole team had too many questions. Beast Boy pointed out that he didn’t work alone know that he had Red S. Cyborg said even if he denied it, they couldn’t trust Red X. Raven mentioned that Red X had something on Robin and that Slade would be the perfect ally for him.

Starfire stood there in silence. If they went after Slade, they could find the T ship and then he would not help her to neutralize Blackfire. She had to distract them. She had to tell Slade. But he would be disappointed. What if he gave up on the plan?

There were too many thoughts in her mind. She didn’t know where to start. There was nothing she could say to Robin that would take his mind off of Slade. He would start investigating. What if he found the communicator? What if he found the uniform? What if he found out that she knew Slade’s other name?

She slowly walked away and then she flew back to the Tower.

They all turned around and saw her as she disappeared in the distance. Nobody said anything. They believed her. Everybody believed what she said. Everyone but Robin, he knew how disappointed she was when he became Red X, maybe this was what she feared. Maybe the possibility of Slade coming back worried her, and she was trying to protect them. But that wasn’t like Starfire, she wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t lie. Would she?

Starfire got into her room and hid the backpack in her closet. She opened it to get the communicator out. She called Red X using it. He didn’t pick up immediately, but when he did she just broke down. She cried her eyes out while Red X just listened silently. Not a laugh, not a word but the silent felt comforting.

“I am sorry”, she apologized after a minute of just crying without saying a word. “What happened?”, he replied from the other side, she could hear the concern in his voice. “Beast Boy saw us talking and I did not know what to say so I invented something about Red S”, she explained, still sobbing in between her words. “And?”, Red X didn’t get what the problem was, it wasn’t like he didn’t stop to flirt with her every time he could when he fought against the Titans. “Robin didn’t believe me; they think you are working with Slade. So, I told them that you said you worked alone but it made it worse. Now everyone will go after Slade and he won’t help me safe Tamaran”, he didn’t know about Tamaran. He accepted working with Slade just to piss off Robin, he didn’t know what this mission meant for Starfire.

“He will help you; you will tell him and he will figure something out like he always does”, Red X replied. “No, he will be disappointed in me”, she sobbed again, tears filling her eyes. “Maybe, but I’ll be there. Meet me at the Lodge, he’s out now. I’ll get us in and then we’ll tell him together”, she ran the back of her hand under her nose and calmed down. Red X sounded so sure of what he just said that she believed him. “Okay, I shall see you there”, she said back to him and closed the communicator.

She ran to the backpack and put it on. Then she took a piece of paper out of her diary and she wrote a simple note. “I need some time alone. I will be back soon. Until then I do not want to put you in danger because of my feelings. Goodbye, friends”. She left the note and the Titans communicator on her bed.

There was something else that she wanted to do so badly but couldn’t. For a long time, she had been wanting to disappear and, in her backpack, there was one thing that could help her. She took Red S’s utility belt out and ripped the center off. It was the clocking device. Then she packed the rest of it back and left the room with her bag full of secrets.

She went to the rooftop. In her right hand she held the button she took from the dark suit. She stood on the edge of the roof that faced the woods. Starfire closed her eyes and thought of freedom, of the feeling of honesty and not having secrets that glued her to the darkness. She lifted herself and her feet left the ground. Still with her eyes closed she pushed the button and flew away. She opened her eyes and saw everything around her, but she didn’t see herself. As her body disappeared, her problems did too. She felt free. No one could see her ran away. So, she flew as fasts as she could to the Lodge. Her alien powers gave her super speed and she used it at its maximum.

She hummed a song in her head, a soft song she heard once on the mall. She could relate to that song too much, so she kept repeating it in her mind. She felt glued too and today she had been physically glued. She felt glued to Robin, to the team, to Earth, to Tamaran, to the memory of her family and now she felt glued to so many lies. At least one of those secrets made everything just a little bit better.

When she saw the Lodge down on the ground, she let herself go. She just fell and stopped the fall by flying slowly to the ground once she was just inches away from it.

She was on the main entrance. She hit the button in her hand again to uncover herself. This time, when she got close to the doorbell the face recognition built in opened the door for her. She entered and slowly closed the door just in case Slade had returned.

She walked around the house as quietly as she could. It was still pretty early in the morning so she could see clearly every corner of each room. There was no one in the garage, no one in the living room, no one in the kitchen or in the dining room. Her room was empty, and Slade’s door was closed as always. There was one room left, the one where Red X stayed last time. The door was almost closed, so she slowly got closer to take a peek inside and what she saw made her freeze on the spot. Red X was standing in front of the full body mirror that appeared to be the same as the one in her room. He was looking at himself and he wasn’t wearing his mask. She could see his black hair, his fair skin and his eyes. They were blue, like Robin’s. His face was beautiful but different from her best friend’s. He had darkness in his eyes that Dick didn’t have when he took his mask off. Maybe he too had that darkness when he wore the mask.

Red X, narrowed his eyes. He quickly turned around and saw the Tamaranean princess. She gasped. He did too and he covered his face with his hands. He almost jumped to the bed to grab his mask and put it on. “No, no, no! Do not put it on!”, she yelled as she entered the room and put her hands on his, trying to take the mask away. “As I said, the first time Robin asked, I wear a mask because I don’t want you to know who I am”, he explained trying to pull his hands away from the alien’s grip. “But I do not know who you are”, she replied. He stopped fighting. “You saw my face every time we fought but you only got to know me when we talked”, she explained. “So, you want me to tell you”. “No”, she let go too. “I do not want you to do nothing that you do not want to do. If you wish to share who you are with me I would be more than happy to hear it, but if you do not want to, then I shall keep what I just saw only in my memories”, he let out a chuckle. “Why are you like this with me? I mean, I am not your friend. I don’t do friends”, he sat down on the bed and she sat right next to him. “To me you are. I cherish you because without even knowing, you have been there for me through this very difficult time. Where I come from people are not nice and you were to me. So, I wish to keep you as my friend in my heart”, she shrugged her shoulders. Red X stayed silent. He would not say this out loud, but the thought of being ‘kept in Starfire’s heart’ sounded like a dream. If she knew who he really was, she would not want him near herself. Or maybe, since he was training to be better, she would.

“So, what do you think?”, Red X asked, laying back just a little bit, putting his hands on the bed for support. “I do like your face”, Starfire turned her body around to look at him. “Your eyes are most glorious, they look like the summer sky”, she clapped with her hands close to her chest. “Yours looks better. Even better when they start glowing. I can’t do that”, he mentioned. “Oh, that is part of my Tamaranean powers. I like them too. But I love human’s eyes. They look different”, she pouted, and he had to let his head down because the sight of her doing that made him feel something that he didn’t know how to cope with. “Well, you could wear contact lenses and make them look like a regular human eye”, he mentioned and as soon as he did it she lit up in excitement. “Can you do that?”, she asked, getting closer to him, her face just inches apart from his. “Yes, you can. You can change whatever you want almost instantly: your hair color, style, eyes color, even your lips color too”, he explained, and she stood up and started levitating. He had never seen someone so happy. “I wish to try those, please”, she pleaded, and he laughed. “I’ll make sure you do”, he answered. She sat back. “Could we-“, Starfire was about to speak when someone knocked at the door. Red X immediately put on his mask. Slade entered the room.

“Why are you two here?”, Slade asked. Starfire stood up. “I have to tell you something”, she spoke softly, almost as if she didn’t want him to hear her, and she didn’t. She looked over her shoulder at Red X, her eyes were starting to fill up with tears again. “I- I made a- I...”

Red X stood up too. He took a step forward and took her hand, pulling her back to stand behind him. “She is trying to cover for a fuck up I made. I tried to help Starfire distract the Titans in case they suspected her and now they think I am working with you because of a mistake I made”, he spoke clearly, no cracks in his voice, it was as if he was telling the truth. She had to learn how to do that.

“It doesn’t matter, children. I am not going to be here for much longer. I will fly to Tamaran in an hour. You two are going to help me with a simple mission for which I need you to do something that I guess two teenagers will enjoy much better than anyone else. I need you to go to the museum and find out what is their security program, cameras, who is in charge, workers, everything. Then you are going to report that to me. But I don’t want to get the Teen Titan’s attention so you will have to enter through the front door and act like a regular teenager from Jump City”, he finished his answer and went back out of the room with no more explanation.

“So, everything is okay as I told you it would be”, Red X said as he let go of Starfire’s hand and turned around to face her. “Everybody knows who I am, and you are a very known villain. That will get my friend’s attention”. Starfire looked at him with a confused face. “Well, they know Red X, but they don’t know this guy”, he took off his mask. “And maybe we can get you a secret identity, you got other name in mind?”. “My Tamaranean name is Koriand’r. Does it work?”, she asked tilting her head to the right. “Well, then miss Kory will be going to the museum with mister Jason”, he raised his eyebrows and extended his hand to her. She shook it and giggled in a way that weirdly made Jason’s heart beat faster than usual.

“But we are wearing this clothes that don’t look like a regular Jump City teen would wear”, she looked down at their uniforms. “Have you ever been to a mall?”, he asked. “Oh yes! I like going to the mall and doing the hanging out!”, she immediately jumped and clapped her hands. “Then we are going shopping”, as soon as he said that she took his hand and flew them both to the mall.

Back at the Tower, the rest of the Teen Titans came in after talking to the police about the break in.

They entered the Tower in silence. Robin went into Starfire’s room as fast as he could. “Star, I am sorry if we overwhelmed you with-“, he found himself alone in the alien’s room. He looked around, still standing on the door.

His gaze landed on the bed and once again he saw the communicator she had left behind. He sat down on the bed and took the note that laid next to her pillows. He wanted to believe her when she said she would be back soon, but he couldn’t. He was scared for her. He knew that her powers depended on her feelings and that if she was feeling this confused, it could put her in danger. Robin wasn’t the type to follow the Titans behind their backs. They were free to go out of the Tower whenever they wanted. There was no rule that said that they had to take their communicator everywhere. But somehow, he felt like there was an unofficial rule that she had violated.

He didn’t want to admit it, but he felt left out. Starfire was his best friend. The team was close, he knew them and loved them as their family, but Starfire was the girl that knew him more than anyone else. He knew her like that too. So, feeling like she was hiding those feelings from him hurt him in a way he had never experienced before.

Robin walked out of the alien’s room and into the main area of the Tower. The Titans were chatting there. As the leader entered, they stopped talking. They were thinking about her, talking about her, trying to understand what was happening to her too.

“Cyborg, I need to check the cameras”, Robin stated. “What is it? Did Red X break in again?”, Cyborg stood up from the couch immediately. “No. Starfire is gone, and I want to see where she went”, Robin replied going back to the security room through the main hallway.

Cyborg walked after him and so did Raven and Beast Boy. “Dude, I know she is acting weird but spying on her through the cameras doesn’t sound like a good idea”, Beast Boy tried to catch up to Robin. “It isn’t but it is the only way I can at least know where she went and I want to help her, so I am going after her”, he replied not even looking at the shape shifter.

“Okay, I know you care about her, but this is too much. You have to trust that she will be back in one piece. She is a strong girl”, Cyborg spoke as calmly as he could, feeling the tension rise as they all tried to convince Robin to give up his plan. “She is a teenager”, Robin replied. “So are you”, Raven quickly fought his argument with a pretty hard one. He stopped walking.

“Look, if you don’t want to help me, I will do it on my own. But stop trying to change my mind. I won’t do it. Her life could be in danger and there is no way I would let anything happen to her”, Dick sighed when he stopped talking. Clearly his emotions were fighting to get out of his chest. But he didn’t let anything out, he started walking again. “Okay, okay. Don’t get all dramatic. We will help”, Cyborg followed their masked friend.

The team got to the security room. Cyborg started looking for the footage that they wanted to see. They calculated the time she arrived at the Tower and they saw her coming in. She went into her room; they saw this from the camera on the hallway. She left just minutes after that. She flew through the emergency stairs to the top of the Tower.

Then they saw her go through the door. She stood on the edge of the rooftop. Beast Boy covered his eyes with his hands. “Man, Star can fly you know”, Cyborg pointed out.

Starfire lifted herself from the ground and then she disappeared.

“But she can’t do that”, Raven added. “The way she did it, it looked familiar”, Beast Boy joined into the discussion. “No way, I know who does the same thing”, he immediately followed up covering his eyes again. Robin let a chuckle out. “I know that trick because I created it. It belongs to Red X”.

A/N: Sooooo... Jason is Red X. Who would have thought that? lol Well, this is going to be funny. I won’t tell you any details of how he got the suit, if he’s already become Robin, etc. That will come up later in the story, I think. I like the ending too, I have so much fun when I get to write the Titans together, I try to make it as OG animated series as I can. I normally watch it while writing to get the dialogues right and stuff so I hope it works. Anywayyyys, you can already read chapter 5 on AO3 :D Please let me know what you think <3 have a nice day!

#teen titans #starfire #robin #red x #redx #raven #cyborg #beast boy #robstar #dickkory #teen titans og #teen titans 2003 #og teen titans #robstar fanfic #robstar ff #fanfiction #fanfic

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dopescotlandwarrior · 5 years

Text

Bluegrass-Chapter Fourteen

Thank you @statell for all your help and wisdom

Previous chapter at AO3

Chapter Fourteen

Claire turned her back on the chaos around the stalls at Churchill Downs as she studied the stats of the horses she would race against. She had tremendous anxiety and Runner was crashing into her consciousness pestering her to race him, telling her he was the winner, asking where Sham was. Something in Claire broke;

“Goddammit Runner, stop it, I need to concentrate!”

Every head on her team turned to look at the woman who never raises her voice. It was an oddity and registered in their minds as only that, an oddity. Jason looked from Runner to Claire and wondered what he was supposed to stop doing to her since they were ten feet apart.

Jamie ran his hand down her back and looked closely at her, “are ye alright lass?”

“I’m okay, sorry Jamie, I am so tense like I’m having an anxiety attack.”

“Will ye walk wi’ me?” He took the program from her and pulled her off the corral bars. I think ye need to see this lass.”

She was still trying to read the program as Jamie pulled her outside where the sun blinded her. She saw nothing but a black blob in front of her eyes, but she could hear the crowd calling her name, yelling Midnight Runner. As her vision cleared, she saw so many fans. There had to be hundreds of them, waving to her and trying to get her to autograph something. One fan stuck a magazine into her hands and held out a pen, pointing to the pictures of her last race and many others before that. She signed as many as she could, noticing the picture of her and Runner in Florida with the ray of sun coming out of the cloud lighting up her embrace. She was stunned at the signs and banners for Midnight Runner. She looked up at Jamie with astonishment and he smiled at her.

Jason came out with Runner looking fancy in his matching Fuchsia checked hood and the crowd went crazy seeing the superstar horse. Jamie gave her a leg into the saddle and waited for that smile. This was the end of the prep races. If she won today, she was a contender for the Triple Crown nomination but more importantly to Jamie, one race away from quitting.

Claire watched Jamie fade into the crowd feeling a strange disconnection from his expression. She wondered what he was thinking about to look that way.

Runner was the last horse to load and was coming out next to the rail, a coveted starting position. He reared coming up to the gate and tried to buck as well. He refused to load, and the deafening crowd was starting to unravel Claire. The handler forced him in and now he was pissed off. Claire tried to get his attention, but he ignored her banging into the sides of the gate and trying to rear. Claire grabbed a handful of mane and suggested he use that energy beating the other horses.

When the gate slammed open Runner jumped out, ahead of the other horses surprising Claire. He turned on the speed right from the start and Claire tried to hold him back fearing he would have nothing left as the race went on. She felt him accelerate about every quarter mile running alone, several lengths ahead of the next horse. Claire tucked in and remained quiet with an empty mind. This was Runner's decision and she felt him accelerate again on the home stretch. He won easily staying ahead of the other horses who never caught him.

“Good job Runner.”

The rest of their time at the track was like walking through a fog. After the winner’s circle picture, Michael ran up behind her and threw her back up in the saddle telling her to ride up and down the home stretch, remove her helmet and wave to the crowd. She did as he said with a plastered-on smile. When she finally was led into the stall area she dismounted again, Jason took Runner, and Jamie steered her to a bench and made her sit.

He looked closely at her face, dirt-covered every inch except where her goggles were pressed against her head. With her elbows on her knees, it looked like she might fall over. Jamie flagged Michael down and talked a bit before taking her hand and pulling her to Michael’s car.

Claire said nothing during the drive. Jamie kept his hand on her knee and kept talking about the remarkable race feeling more and more worried about her. She didn’t seem to comprehend everything he was saying. When they stopped at a traffic light Jamie noticed her hands were shaking quite hard. He pulled a U-turn right there and took her to emergency. People aren’t used to seeing a female jockey in silks, looking like she just stepped off the track. They got a lot of looks from those in the hospital waiting room.

A woman passed by on her way out and stopped to talk to Claire asking if she raced today. Claire had a vague smile but otherwise did not respond or comprehend that a question had been asked.

Jamie was frantic now and ran to the nurse's station describing her symptoms. A wheelchair was brought out and Claire was taken directly to an examination room. The soft-spoken doctor asked Claire a dozen questions to which she answered none.

“Excuse me for stating the obvious Claire, but you are a jockey and you raced today, is that right?”

Claire looked at him with wide eyes and then she tried to lay down. Jamie was ready to lose his mind as he stood next to her and spoke softly reminding her that she won today. He looked at the doctor with complete helplessness.

“She has some mental confusion that will clear up quickly if I’m right about blood sugar being the cause. Someone will be in soon to take blood and then we’ll give her some juice.” He pulled a pamphlet out of the wall holder and handed it to Jamie and then left them alone.

“Whatever’s made ye sick lass, we’re gonna fix it, I promise.”

It seemed like an eternity that Jamie waited for the return of the doctor. Claire slept quietly and Jamie paced until he thought he would explode into a million pieces. The pamphlet described a condition where blood sugar dips below the level where the body can function normally. Easily treated with high sugar foods like juice followed by complex carbohydrates like pasta. On his third reading, the doctor came and woke Claire. She sat up and Jamie noticed her color was better and she seemed more alert. The doctor asked her several questions like her name, age, where she was born, looking to Jamie for confirmation now and then.

“Tell me about the race today.”

“We won, easily.”

“I am releasing you to a big pasta dinner eaten as soon as possible and before you are released, another juice box, please. Going forward you must eat throughout the day, small meals every two hours and always have something in your purse to eat or drink that will raise your blood sugar quickly. A nurse will go over all of this before you leave.”

Jamie dropped into a chair feeling relieved. The instructions for Claire’s condition sounded easy, she just had to include juice boxes when she was away from home. It was possible this was an isolated episode and it was possible there were underlying reasons for her blood sugar to crash. They would wait and see.

Jamie turned on his cell phone and there were numerous messages from Michael and Jason. Something must have happened to Runner! Jamie excused himself to run outside to call.

“Jamie, thank God. We are stuck at the racetrack. Something is wrong with Runner. When we loaded him in the trailer he freaked out and we barely got him out before he bashed his brain from rearing. He trashed the trailer, but I think it will get him home.

“I will see if I can speed up Claire’s release and we’ll get there right away.”

Jamie talked to the front desk about an emergency and Claire was released in twenty minutes. Jaime filled her in as they left and watched for cops on the road while he sped back to Churchill Downs.

They could hear Michael yelling at Runner when they walked into the stall area. He sounded stressed. They could hear vicious kicks to the walls on the stall and Claire started running.

“Runner!”

The colt stopped in his tracks and whinnied low in his throat. He walked to Claire as she opened the stall door and entered. He dropped his head for a scratch before he smelled her all over. He was sending images of him running with an empty saddle and then the same with her in the saddle. She cradled his head and hummed to him.

“Now I’ve seen everything.” Michael shook his head side to side with a scowl on his face. “What the hell Claire? He travels without you all the time so why turn into Diablo today?”

“I wasn’t feeling well during the race, he must have sensed it. Maybe that’s why he broke out early and ran for his life. Maybe he ran for mine. Let’s get you home to your girlfriend big guy.”

Claire snapped a lead on the colt and walked him outside and then into the trailer without incident. She snapped him into the cross ties and hugged him, “thank you for worrying about me Runner.”

Jamie looked at the dents in the trailer from one huge pissed off horse. He could do the work himself especially with three months of rest coming up. When he looked inside the trailer, he saw a very passive stallion ready for transport. He shook his head.

Jason went over the colt's legs inch by inch looking for cuts or welts from kicking just about everything in sight. He thought about how different his race was today, busting out ahead of the other horses and ran lengths ahead for the whole race. Claire didn’t stand in her stirrups when they won, she didn’t point at them with her crop and she was irritable all morning like Jason had never seen her. He looked at Runner, now docile in his stall. It happened the moment he saw her..the kicking and rearing stopped that second and he put his head in her arms. Jason shook his head and snapped out of it reminding himself that horses don’t talk or listen, and they certainly can’t diagnose health problems.

“Goodnight Runner.”

Jamie left Runner in Jason’s capable hands for his post-race routine and feeding. He was anxious to get Claire home and make pasta for her while she scrubbed off the hours-old dirt from the race. He was trying to relax about hypoglycemia but the change in her was so profound it was difficult. He poured the pasta into bubbling water and took out a jar of sauce to warm in the microwave. Things would get better now with a long break ahead and if she had another episode, he would pull Runner from the super-six and retire him to stud, letting Claire go back to her life as a veterinarian.

Claire peered at the pot and smiled at Jamie. She looked fresh and clean and smelled like heaven. She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him and was scooped up into his arms and laid on the couch where he devoured her in kisses. When he finally stopped, Claire was breathless and her eyes asked for more.

“It’s time to eat Sassenach. It’s what the doctor ordered and will most likely taste like garbage because I canna cook. You be a good lass and eat as much as you can, aye?”

They ate in silence for a while, made small talk, and discussed the race while Jamie did the dishes.

“It’s still early, would you give me a tour of your customization's? And start with how you found the time.”

Jamie was thrilled she was interested as he took great pride in his work and Isobel always hated it.

“In the beginning, it was a shell of a house really. Someplace to sleep and get out of the rain while I worked on the compound and buying stock. The broodmares and the stallions were young when I bought them, I had one mare of breeding age but that didn’t require a lot of my time. So I worked on the house. I hired local artisans to create the mantel and second banister up to the office. I bought wood for the office furniture, the steps, and the sun on the ceiling. Another artist for the shower in the guest bathroom upstairs. She set all the tiles out, painted the picture on them, and then cured them somehow to stand up to water. I love that picture of the Kentucky sunrise.

Jamie kissed her, “bored yet?”

“The chess table in the living room is Black Walnut inlay, how did you find a piece to fit so perfectly with your wood?”

“I made it, and my desk upstairs.”

Claire watched him while he talked and fantasized about his wide soft mouth on her. The kissing before dinner had a lingering effect.

“Sassenach?”

When she looked up her eyes were smoldering and her cheeks were flushed. Jamie picked her up and carried her upstairs where he kissed her with a purpose that thrilled both of them. Claire was starving for him and tried to remember the last time they had sex. She couldn’t remember and stopped trying. She lavished her love on him so sweetly at first, but her arousal was making her needy and she clutched at Jamie pulling him to cover her.

“I’m afraid I am a bit far gone for dalliance at the moment.”

Claire lifted her knees at Jamie’s side and made it clear she wanted him inside her. He watched her eyes as he moved slowly deeper into the wet warmth of her body. Each stroke pulled long, low moans from them both. Jamie flipped his body under hers without separating and he pushed Claire’s upper body against his raised thighs and spread her knees wide. When she found her rhythm, he touched her bud and stroked it lightly until she was ready to explode. She pitched forward with hands on his chest and let him drill her before sending her into orbit.

Jamie pulled Claire to his side and covered her face with kisses. Before he left to lock up the house, he pulled the quilt up. By the time he returned she was fast asleep. It had been a long and trying day.

Later in the week, Jamie made two trips to the airport, one for Michael and one for Jason. Both were excited to go home for the holidays. The following day, he was going stir crazy from the silence of his missing team. He was amazed he was done with his work by mid-afternoon. He thought about what mischief he could talk Claire into as he sifted quickly through the mail. He opened a large manila envelope from Nosh, a name he didn’t remember and out came three volumes of Sports Illustrated magazine and a handwritten note from the reporter to enjoy. Jamie thumbed through until he found the articles and pictures of Runner, the Superstar.

He grabbed the magazines intending to run up to the house and show Claire when he saw an official envelope from the Eclipse Award. He opened the letter and started reading as his smile creased his cheeks and his feet started running.

Claire was overjoyed to see him home, especially when he picked her up and spun her around before dropping her into a chair at the breakfast bar. He spread the magazines out and helped her find the pages of pictures and articles about Runner’s races and wins. She was over the moon until Jamie dropped the letter in front of her.

“Runner has won the Eclipse award mo chridhe, its the highest honor in horse racing and he is the second two-year-old in history to win! He is Horse of The Year! And it's all your fault.”

Jamie kissed her passionately and pressed his forehead to hers.

“Thank ye Claire. What ye’ve done has placed yer names in annals of racing history. I am grateful to ye both.”

He kissed her again and invited her for an early walk with the horses to enjoy a peaceful end to this amazing day.

“You never told me about how you fell in love with me. I would like to hear it.”

Jamie looked at his boots and smiled at the memory. “It started the day of the poisoning when ye fell into me and cried yer eyes out. In the middle of a huge chaotic effort to save horses ye just collapsed against me and sobbed. Ye were so small when I held ye to me. Ye were such a miracle to me. I decided right then if my whole life purpose was to be in that spot, at that time, so ye could cry into me I was okay with that.”

“The next incident I canna forget was watching ye set up a race against Runner. So patient ye were cause he kept trampling your line in the dirt. Watchin ye run and him dashing off to pass ye was so funny! I can’t remember how many days or weeks I had to hide when ye came to work with the colt but most of the time I was watchin ye not him.”

“We talked a bit at the rail one night with no one else around. I knew ye were different from other lasses I had known because ye were so calm, comfortable in yer own skin, my equal. There is nothin like a confident, beautiful woman. Once ye started ridin Runner I would help you with his bath and we would walk the fields and talk, remember? Ye knocked my socks off lass.”

“That’s the clean version but I’d be happy to share the fantasies I had while I was fallin for ye. C’mon Sassenach, let me tell ye in detail what we did in my head.”

Jamie was mauling her while he talked making Claire giggle uncontrollably and push him away. She reached for Runners halter and unsnapped the lead Jamie was holding, then did the same to Porcelain, slapping them both on the rump to get the party started.

It was like watching poetry in motion, the two of them galloping through the bluegrass. They sat on the fence and watched them as the sun was setting. When they walked toward the fence to leave the pasture two galloping horses stopped dead a few feet from them and gladly accepted the leads snapped to their halters again. It was dinner time.

Claire asked Jamie if he put up a tree for Christmas and he looked quite confused for a moment. He had been nearly isolated with Isobel for four years and she did not celebrate Christmas, at least not the decorating part. She would give him socks and a tie each year, unwrapped, and he would give her a gift certificate to her favorite store in town. It was all very sterile and emotionless. He would have stood on his head and spit nickels if she asked him to, so it wasn’t hard to convince him. The next night they picked out a twelve-foot, beauty of a tree. Claire seemed so happy with it and the next day she went into town and bought lights, ornaments, and a variety of other special things to put on the tree.

Claire had purchased a small living tree for Runner and Porcelain as well. She filled it with colored sugar cubes and candy canes and placed it on the shelf directly across from their stalls. Runner was stretching his neck to reach it and started kicking his corral bars in protest.

“You can’t eat it Runner. It’s a holiday decoration. You can stop trying, you can’t eat it.”

Claire pulled several sugar cubes for each horse and moved the tree to Jamie’s office.

“Sassenach, what is the purpose of the tree?”

“It’s for putting presents around underneath. When you wake up Christmas morning you open them.”

Jamie seemed completely unimpressed with such a tradition and went back to his work. Inside, he was delighted to watch the Sassenach’s joy. She was childlike in her Christmas happiness and it was infectious as he could feel it seeping into him. Life with this girl was an adventure every day and the kaleidoscope of emotions, love, joy, pride, anticipation, concern, were always with him. Not to mention crazy hot sex. He watched her move about his office making the tree look pretty and was overcome with a need to hold onto her, just for a minute.

Ten minutes of hot kissing later Claire called a time-out and escaped so Jamie could finish working. She laughed at his pout and went back to her project of hanging lights on the tree at home.

Through the next two weeks, Claire hunted for the right gifts for Jamie, Molly, and Lulu. She decided an engraved stethoscope for Dustin would be perfect and as she wrote it on her list, she suddenly scratched it out and spent the next several hours in a funk. How could she give a present to someone that wouldn’t speak to her?

On Christmas eve she made a delicious smelling roast with roasted vegetables and tiny lobster crackers to keep Jamie fed during her surprise. She filled the bathtub and set about creating a treat just for him.

Jamie could smell the roast from outside and smiled with delight. When he walked into the house, he blinked several times to adjust to the candlelight all over the lower floor. Then he saw Claire with a tiny flared skirt, tight sweater that revealed an inch of skin, amazing white stockings, and high heels. He was speechless watching her approach him. She kissed him warmly and handed him a whisky. He was trying to talk but the words were getting twisted in his mouth, so he just smiled and looked at every inch of her.

“I was hoping you would make a blazing fire.”

“Done. Then a shower so I don’t accidentally rub this horse smell on those clothes. God lass, yer beautiful.”

Claire busied herself with setting out the whisky and lobster crackers and Jamie was back with fresh clothes and the permanent smile. He could not remember a single time in his life when someone troubled themselves to make him happy like this. He felt very important to this spit of a girl and that filled him with love for her. They talked as Claire passed him crackers and whisky. When he declined another cracker, she sat on his lap and kissed him from collar bone to mouth and lingered there. Jamie’s hand ran up her leg loving the feel of the silk stockings. When he reached the lace band that held them up, he ran his fingers around it and under it while he kissed her passionately.

The fire was so gorgeous Claire didn’t want to leave the living room, ablaze with tiny lights on the tree, a dozen candles lit, and the roaring fire.

“I want room to move around this incredible body. Can we take this to the floor?”

Jamie looked like he was in a trance and jumped to lay the couch pillows on the floor and pour more whisky.

“Come here Sassenach. I want to show you how grateful I am for what you’ve done.”

Claire laid next to him and waited for him to find her surprise. It didn’t take long for his big warm hand to find its way under her skirt and his fingers played with the tiny beaded thong. When he ran his fingers underneath, he gasped with wide eyes.

“Sassenach.”

She pulled him back to her mouth as Jamie tried to compose himself. He wanted only one thing at that moment, to look under her skirt.

“We dinna want to ruin yer new skirt mo chridhe. Here, I’ll help ye take it off.”

Claire allowed him to remove her skirt and sweater before pulling his own shirt off. His mind had practically shut down except for his need to see under her thong. He kissed and sucked her breasts kissing down her stomach and abdomen until he could lick inside the thong driving Claire out of her mind. He pulled the thong slowly off her and stared at the sexiest image he had ever seen. She was bare except for a racing stripe that stopped right above her bud. He licked it and tried to pull back and look again but Claire pulled him to her begging for her release. Jamie pulled her legs over his shoulders and sent her to erotic oblivion. While she was gone, he looked at her until she opened her eyes again.

“If you get out of those pants, I have another surprise for you, if it works.” She giggled with her heavy speech and received his now naked kisses that we very intense.

During Claire’s shopping, she purchased a Cosmopolitan magazine that promised to heighten sexual pleasure and tone up on the inside at the same time. She bought it feeling adventurous and practiced all afternoon.

Jamie pushed into her slowly and let out a squeaky moan holding perfectly still. The next stroke was even better, and he growled with the sensation he was feeling. Continuing slowly was not an option and Claire’s body sent him reeling as he pounded into her.

When he could breathe again, he gathered Claire up in his arms feeling like he just went ten rounds with a sex goddess.

“I love ye, lassie.”

Claire was quite happy with her surprises for Jamie. The Kegel flexing seemed to add a new dimension to his feeling inside of her, just like the magazine promised. She heard him dozing behind her and slipped out to dress and finish dinner. She was very happy.

She looked at him sleeping, naked on the floor and admired his body for a few minutes. There were many times she would see him walk by or watch him with the horses and he took her breath away. His warm hand on her leg pulled her from her thoughts and she smiled down at him.

“Are you hungry handsome?”

Claire bounded down the stairs the next morning enjoying the scent of the tree with all the sparkling ornaments. She decided at that moment her life couldn’t get any better and bounced into the kitchen where Jamie was reading the paper.

“Merry Christmas Jamie!”

She pounded her coffee down and looked at him with a big smile.

“Are you ready to open presents? C’mon!”

She handed him her present and waited for him to open it.

“A fishing pole lass?”

“Yes, you will teach me to fish and we’ll rent a rowboat and hang out in the middle of the lake while we catch them. And this one is a tackle box! Oh, probably shouldn’t have told you.”

He stared at her for a moment too long making her nervous it was the wrong gift. She looked around the room and her stomach twisted in knots. What if he didn’t get me a present she thought? Well, this is awkward.

“Ye came out of nowhere and dropped into my life like a sparkler that never ends Sassenach.” His voice was reverent and his eyes studied her for several minutes.

“I have a present for ye lass.” Jamie stood up and walked her to the couch, but he couldn’t sit still so he paced.

“I hope I’m not wrong about what’s in yer heart mo chridhe. My heart is full of love for ye, more than I’ve ever felt in my life. I want to keep you with me forever and grow old with ye. I canna be happy with anything less mo chridhe.”

With that he bent one knee and opened a tiny box in front of her.

“Will ye marry me Claire?”

Jamie was very pleased with how wide her eyes got, then a little nervous because she hadn’t said anything. When the silence got uncomfortable Jamie dropped his head and prepared to fix this tragic mess.

“Stop!” Big tears were rolling down her cheeks and her eyes sparkled at him. “Are you kidding me, Jamie? I can’t live without you anymore, of course, I will marry you.”

She dropped into his arms and kissed him at least one hundred times as he slipped the ring on her finger and kissed her with earnest.

Jamie lit a fire to chase the cold off the morning and pulled Claire onto his lap. They talked about belonging to each other, heart, body, and soul. He had put much thought into what he said next and the magnitude of the offer made her tears start again.

“I’ll not start the only marriage I’ll ever have hedging my bet. No contracts about what is mine and what is yours Sassenach. We come to the marriage devoted to each other for life, equal partners in everything. Do you agree?”

Claire was too emotional to speak so she nodded her head yes as the tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Do ye like the ring love?”

“I love the ring Jamie, it’s what I’ve dreamed of since I was a kid. Having the man I love ask me to marry him. It was just perfect.”

Wrapped in towels after a shower, Claire looked at her ring and felt ready to burst with happiness. She could hardly take her eyes off it to start cooking for their guests. She remembered thinking she was as happy as she could ever be walking downstairs this morning. Then Jamie pushed the bar so high it would never be touched.

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