#there was a bit where they were going through the instruments one by one

[alas--pringles]

Mountain fans- always looking for visual crumbs of their favorite

Rain fans- always listening for audible crumbs of their favorite 😭

[kisses4reid]

scare | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,, (part 1)

synopsis - you’re in a relationship with some one else and have a pregnancy scare, both your own reaction and spencer’s makes you realise that you’re not happy.

genre - bau!reader x spencer, friends to lovers, multi-part, pregnancy scare, reader has sort of a douche bf, one sided love (at first), angst and fluff

warnings - pregnancy talk, mentions of sex, unhealthy relationships, stress, sickness

w/c - 1.4k?? take a guess cause that’s mine.

a/n - i’ve got 9 weeks free. yeah, i have a job. and yeah, i have about 6 other hobbies i enjoy. but am i gonna make promises i can’t keep about writing more?? yeah. i am. here, enjoy. (pls lemme know abt mistakes it’s rlly late at night rn.)

The plane whirrs, small chatter from Morgan and who you assumed to be Penelope over the phone humming along with the music you try to distract yourself with. It isn’t working.

Because every song has its own special and quirky musical instrument that happens to sound like a message notification. And you keep getting your hopes up.

Your left leg started to bounce, your fingernails found their way to your anxious teeth. And Spencer noticed.

He noticed about halfway through the case, when you stopped talking as much, started drinking an influx of water, started discreetly taking pain medication. At first, he thought it was a simple stomach bug, and he knew your stomach didn’t agree with a lot of travel. But then you started getting nervous.

Spencer glanced at you a few times before moving, sitting next to you (attempting to be discreet). He can’t be discreet though, because every time he’s around you, his body does this weird thing where it can’t decide whether it should be instantly calm or instantly more nervous. Your presence stopped his fidgeting hands, his tired thoughts. But god, when he looked at you, it’s like his heart wants to see you for itself.

And right now his heart hurt, why were you scared?

You barely noticed Spencer sit down, usually you would, but your phone was annoyingly blank, silent. You turned it off and on three times, and re-entered the plane’s wifi password five times.

And now your stomach was grumbling, and not in the way that those nice small sandwiches can help out with.

“Are you okay?”

You jumped, taking your earphones out and staring at Spencer surprised. You laughed nervously, quietly, “Spencer! Sorry. Yeah, I’m fine.”

His warm eyes searched yours and for a second you could ignore the tight feeling in your chest. It made you think back around 8 months ago, when Penelope, your childhood best friend and now co-worker, created a pros and cons list for both Lloyd, and… Spencer.

It was unprofessional and inappropriate, especially when you decided to listen because you had nothing better to do. And especially when she started making some good points.

He squinted his eyes, and you sighed.

“Sorry, I’m just a bit antsy. Feeling a bit… off.”

You felt sick, and stressed, and like your thoughts were going to be the cause of your death. Because you’ve never been sick like this. And to your overworked brain, it only meant one thing.

Spencer’s a great profiler. And although the team collectively agreed to not profile each other, it becomes hard for Spencer when the girl he’s in love with is so obviously in distress. Even worse when he can’t be the hero.

“I can leave you to sleep if you want.” He says, getting up to leave.

“Oh, no. That’s okay. Honestly, I think sleeping would just make it worse.”

Ah, right. Travel sickness, Spencer thought. He gaps his mouth slightly and nods. He relaxes into the couch and looks over to you, heart picking up slightly as pieces of hair fell from your loose ponytail.

You looked over to the table he was previously sat at, the book you gifted him last Christmas open and nearly finished. You smiled to yourself, but it was bittersweet.

“You’re actually reading it?” You asked, looking back at him with slight surprise.

“Of course. I’ve read it 6 times already, it’s a great pallet cleanser- Just like you said in that Christmas card!” He smiled childishly, like he was recalling the first snow.

“I know right! It’s so simple but interesting, I mean I’ve only read it three times but to me I always found it to clear my head.”

Spencer angled himself towards you, “Did you know that the author actually interviewed his daughter’s teachers to see what ages teachers were more invested in compared to class sizes? He said in an interview that depending on a students intelligence, there’s an underlying emotional connection made between student and teacher,” he took a breath, “It plays into the intelligence to ego ratio that so many people claim isn’t true. Which I’m not trying to say you have a big ego, or that I do-“

You waved you hands, “Woah, woah. Why would I think you’re talking about me?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “Well, you’re very intelligent.”

“Oh!… Thanks for thinking I’m intelligent, or smart.” You shrugged, “But I think you insulted yourself. You don’t have a 187 IQ for nothing do you?”

“You remembered my IQ?” He laughed nervously. His smile warms your chest like a candle. Like that candle he got you randomly in April, after you mentioned your favourite one being used up by your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend. Ugh.

You smile falters for only a second, “Of course. You only mention it to every person that second guesses you.”

He nods and smiles, “Must be my ego.”

You laugh, subconsciously bumping your shoulder with his. But- Jesus. Your stomach is queasy.

“Hey, uh, do you want some travel sickness pills?” He reached over for his satchel but you grab his forearm and smile as convincingly as you can.

“No, no. We’re landing soon, but thank you.”

You’re overreacting.

That’s what he said. When you texted your boyfriend of a year and a half that you thought you were pregnant he said, You’re overreacting. Two words, two hours after your first text, on his day off.

Maybe you are. You started feeling sick on a slightly more gory case, it’s lasted ever since the case started, you get travel sick as well.

The headaches are from the computer screen and stress. The stress is from fatigue. The fatigue is because of the lack of sleep. The lack of sleep is because of the headaches.

Why do you always do this? Always thinking that there’s something wrong with you. Always being the biggest person in your own life, selfish.

But… what if?

There’s a sudden squeak from behind you, and you instantly snapped out of it. You took a deep breath and looked at your surroundings. You were at your desk, standing, the strap of your bag clutched in your hands - god, your knuckles were white. Your eyes darted in surprise and confusion, and you jumped once again when Spencer spoke into the silence.

“You okay?”

“Um…”

You didn’t look back at him, only looking down at your shoes and taking a deep breath. You plastered on a smile despite the bile collecting in your throat.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve gonna go, the bus leaves at um…”

You took out your phone. He didn’t even respond to your text asking him to pick you up.

“I’ll drive you home. But uh, I gotta pick up some groceries. I hope you don’t mind.”

He curved to your desk and gently took your bag from your hands, glancing at the way you traced your knuckles and how the leather strap now had slight wrinkles in it. He smiled, warmly. And he started walking like you rejecting the idea wasn’t an option.

Which is wasn’t, because he knew you too well.

“Well, a cucumber actually has 3% more water than watermelon. So if you really want a refreshing snack, cucumber is your man.”

You smiled and raised your eyebrows in interest. He’s had many vegetables and fruits in the basket, not a lot of protein. Explained a lot.

My man, you thought with a smile.

My man, you shivered.

“I don’t like cucumbers.” You said like it was distraction, and he nodded, picking up some kewpie mayo as he you around to the next aisle. He glanced at you,

“I know. You say it’s tasteless. I like it.” He shrugged.

“I know.” You smiled, and he smiles back.

God, you wish you could bask in it, the warmth. But your chest was still tingly, and your heart hadn’t stopped aching ever since you got excited about an email notification.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay? I noticed you’ve been tense for like… a week.” He grabbed some pasta sauce and put his hand on your shoulder to turn you around - you obviously looked too far into your own head.

“Yeah, just feeling-“

“Y/n.” He turned to you, stopping your venture into the dairy aisle. His eyes were hard, worried. The fluorescent lights swayed slightly. A worker walked by the end of the aisle with a trolley full of food.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t,” he lifted one arm, wanting to rest his hand on your upper arm, to help you, “Don’t say sorry. Just tell me what’s going on.”

“I have been feeling sick. That’s true. And I’ve been stressed and, thinking a lot. A lot.”

It felt weird to nearly tell Spencer about your relationship problems. It was like complaining to a doctor about healing crystals. It was like a slap in the face. Maybe that’s why you never did tell him about it, because it was facing your fears.

It was the pros and cons list made by Penelope.

But I’m overreacting.

“It’s nothing.”

Spencer sighed. You had that habit, of nearly opening up, and then shutting the door just as he was about to walk in.

You heard his sigh.

“Okay. I gave Lloyd my car because he has the day off, and he likes going to his friends houses on his days off. And, I told him something that should probably freak him out. But he doesn’t really care. I don’t think he really cares, about anything. At least about me.”

You started walking, because holy shit you’ve never said that out loud before, and Spencer followed you,

“Y/n, if you want to tell me something-“

“I think I’m pregnant.” You stopped, and started picking at your fingers, acting as if it was admitting to not knowing your left and rights, or that you don’t really like coconut.

His eyes widen, and his heart drops. It was like his worst nightmare coming true- jesus, how could he even think about himself right now? The girl he loved felt trapped with a man she thought might be the father of her baby.

Spencer gulped, “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

You looked at each other, scared, you more than him. And then you cringed,

“God, I’m sorry Spencer. I shouldn’t have said anything-“

“No- Y/n, it’s fine. I’m glad you told me-“

“I haven’t even, like, taken a test yet-“

“Wait so-”

You spun on your heel and looked at him exasperated.

“So… let’s go get some tests.” He said (he hopes) calmly. He was really trying, to pretend to be calm and collected. That’s what you needed, a clear head to replace yours.

He paid for everything, even the 5 pregnancy tests and the over sized lollipop you put in the basket to ease your nerves later on.

The moon was high, you were about three hours late to get home now, and your head was attacking itself with rambles and aches and honestly, you were sick of it.

You shivered, huddling in your jacket and drawing only slightly closer to Spencer. His silence was like a hook, drawing you in closer and higher and taking every word you had been thinking that day to the tip of your tongue.

You looked up to him. His hair fell into his eyes, the breeze reddening his cheeks slightly.

It’s Spencer. You’ve known him for nearly 6 years, but it feels like you’ve known each other for ever. You know everything about him, and he knows everything about you. Well, not everything. He doesn’t know how you feel in your own apartment, how every anniversary had been forgotten even when it was the ‘1 year’ mark, how you felt like you were raising an over grown child who could drink.

He knows you’re strong, but admitting all that? I’d look weak.

You have looked weak in front of Spencer. He stayed overnight in your hospital room, he held you when you watched a little girl die, he wiped your tears when you watched a sad short film during your break.

You couldn’t hide anything from him.

“I don’t think I’m pregnant- Well, I mean I might be, but there’s a very low chance,” You started, Spencer’s jaw clenched for a millisecond, “I’ve just been feeling sick and… it could be because of stress from work, or just general stress- like, I don’t know.”

Spencer moved the grocery bag to his other hand.

“Kids are great, don’t get me wrong. Some people don’t get the chance to have kids. I mean…” You gulped, and Spencer finally looked down at you. But now, all you could do was stare at the car park’s concrete floor. Speaking out loud was like clearing your brain, the fog was lifting. “Lloyd doesn’t want kids. I do, at least in the future, not right now. I just hope it’s not with-“ You cut yourself off, and slow down a bit. Spencer matches your pace.

I just hope it’s not with him.

He gulps, and clears his throat, looking down at you with understanding eyes, “With everything that’s going on.”

“Yeah… yeah. You know, my job, my…” It’s no use lying to Spencer. He knows. He’s known, for a long time.

Your chest was tight, and you made eye contact with the pregnancy tests lying on top of Spencer’s groceries. The thought of going home, rushing to the bathroom, avoiding your boyfriend who was already waiting angry, made your throat close up. Because only now, when you were three hours late from work and ignoring his one attempt at a phone call, Lloyd texted, ‘I think you need to calm down.’ It was a bare minimum, and finally Spencer could see you realizing it.

No, ‘Wre you okay?’, ‘What’s making you think this?’ ‘Where are you?’

No. He was making you out to be the crazy one, the one to be over thinking, over bearing, too much.

You were confused. To put it blankly. And scared. And questioning your life decisions. And honestly you just wanted to curl up in a ball and to have Spencer make you bad cucumber salad at his warm apartment.

You looked up to Spencer but he was already looking down at you, reaching for his keys and nodding, “You can come to mine, it’ll be okay.”

taglist (open) - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld @theoraekenslover @c-losur3 @littlelearningbrat @khxna @laurakirsten0502 @cultish-corner

[yourdeepestfathoms]

The Larks and Being Sick

Cole

Will still try to push themself to perform, but even they have their limits

Conks the hell out when they’re sick, and they’ll sleep for hours (Perrine thought they died once)

Loses their voice. Thinks they’ll never be able to sing again.

Hand tremors won’t let them play their instrument

Gets flustered easily with a lot of affection and care (like if they have to be spoon fed because they’re too weak to hold a bowl themself)

Tries to deter cuddles because they don’t want to get anyone else sick

Emetophobic, and ends up making themself more sick by stressing out over possibly throwing up

Clementine

Super cuddly when they’re sick (usually SOMEONE gets sick after them because they were cuddling)

Mainly because they get really bad chills, so they just want to snuggle up to someone to keep warm

Quiet and mumbly

However, they will ramble deliriously when their fever gets too high

PILED with blankets (which Perrine will have to confiscate so they don’t get overheated, much to their dismay)

Kingsley

A big whiny baby when he’s sick

SUPER overdramatic

“I’M DYING!!!” “You have a cold.”

There’s sometimes a little bit of a “boy who cried wolf” situation with him, where he dramatizes how sick he is, but the others would never leave him to fend for himself, even after all the stuff he pulls for fun

When he has to be spoon fed because he’s too weak from the sickness, he’ll somehow find the strength to make a joke like “chop, chop, peasant!” (Perrine once considered pouring the water she was helping him drink over him)

When he’s really sick, he’s super lethargic, and it’s jarring to see him so worn out when he’s usually the most energetic in the group

Likes to lay his head into the lap of one of the others so they’ll play with his hair, soothing him

Will sometimes force himself into the lap of one of the others (mainly Perrine because she’s the big sibling of the group)

Perrine

Hates being taken care of, so she will act like she’s perfectly fine (she’s not)

Will refuse any and all help until she physically can’t move anymore—and even then, she’ll be stubborn

Pulls out the “but I’m the oldest!” card whenever anyone tries to take care of her

“You’re sick.” “No, I’m not.” “You’re burning up.” “I’m naturally warm.” “You’re shaking.” “It’s just a little cold.” “You literally just threw up.” “I meant to do that.”

She worries about the others when she’s sick in bed. What if something happens? What if they burn the house down while cooking?

Cuddly when she’s ill, but she doesn’t go out of her way to ask for any affection. However, she certainly won’t refuse any…

Easily becomes a little stir crazy from laying in bed. She also gets bored fast. She’s wasting so much time just laying around!

Wears her mask 24/7 to hide how pale and flushed she is from fever (the mask is making her sweat bullets)

Once threw up on stage and then passed out mid-performance because she underestimated how bad she felt (everyone was in a state of shock. she had to be dragged offstage by Cole and Clementine while Kingsley distracted the crowd)

Another time she was making breakfast for the group and fainted, and when she woke up, she was covered in oatmeal from managing to bring the bowl down with her

Would rather starve or die of dehydration than have one of the others spoon feed her

One time, ALL of the kids were sick at once, but Perrine pushed through it to take care of the others (she felt like death after, but anything for her friends)

[milkloafy]

REST AND RESPITE — DAN HENG

⋆｡˚ ❀ summary: dan heng finds himself growing fond of your outgoing and talkative nature. one day, when you’ve holed yourself in your room, he can’t help but worry about you. ⋆｡˚ ❀ wc: 1.0k  ⋆｡˚ ❀ a/n: shhh i haven’t played 2.1 or 2.2 update yet so dan heng is still chilling in the express to me <3 wrote this while sleep deprived and accidentally made dan heng softer than planned :> 

After the events that transpired at the Xianzhou Luofu, Dan Heng decided he needed the time to rest and reflect. He hoped March 7th and Trailblazer had a successful mission—he would surely join them again soon—but he knew he wouldn’t be giving his best effort if he were to go in his current state.

He decided a few moments of peace and quite would do him some good.

Unfortunately for him, however, you also stayed on board the Astral Express for the next mission. 

Peace, he would still get. Dan Heng enjoyed your presence and the two of you had gotten closer over the years. But quiet… That was another story. Ever since you had joined the Astral Express, the halls wer filled with sounds of your laughter. On the nights you and March 7th had a sleepover planned, Dan Heng found himself needing earplugs, to put it kindly. 

Despite the noise not being his typical preference, he noticed himself finding comfort in the liveliness and warmth you brought. Which is why, when a day came where he did not hear you chatting with Pom-Pom or Welt during your scheduled afternoon snack, Dan Heng began to grow concerned. After only brief contemplation, he walked down the hallway and knocked on your door, your favorite breakfast bar in hand. 

“Y/N?” he called through the wall.

“Oh— Come in,” you said, your voice distant. 

When he opened the door, he saw you curled up on the small sofa inside your room—your conversation area for guests, you had told him. You had a blanket wrapped around you and a slow-paced instrumental piece playing from your radio. 

You waved as you looked up at him with a smile. “Hi there.”

“Hello.” Dan Heng extended the breakfast bar out to you. “I noticed you haven’t come out to eat yet. Thought you might be hungry.” 

Your eyes brightened as you accepted the snack, expressing your thanks with a bow of your head.

“Is everything okay?” he asked once you took a bite. Though you didn’t look terrible, he still was unable to shake his worry. “You have been quiet today.”

You let out a small laugh, though it sounded unnaturally forced. “I’m sure you’re grateful for these few moments of silence.”

“Not when your wellbeing is in question.”

Your gaze warmed as his thoughtful words, patting the cushion next to you and beckoning him to take a seat. He obliged, feeling the warmth radiating from your body as his right arm pressed against you. Dan Heng quite enjoyed the warmth. You offered him the corner of your blanket and he shook his head, smothering a chuckle of amusement. 

Once the two of you settled in, you said, “I’ve just been having bad dreams all night.” You paused, as if deciding how much more you wanted to share. “They were about my time…before the Astral Express.”

Dan Heng nodded in understanding. You did not have to say more. The Express welcomed all types of people, each with vastly different backgrounds. Everyone came from unique places and sometimes they were not the best ones. He was unable to verbalize this feeling of empathy out loud to you, but he hoped you sensed that he was there for you.

“I’m not really thinking about it anymore,” you assured, your tone rushed. “Now I’m just exhausted but haven’t been able to sleep.”

He hummed to himself. You seemed tired, even a bit troubled. Perhaps even someone like you needed time alone. But something told him that, for this particular situation, that didn’t seem to be the case.

Clearing his throat, he spoke up. “If you think it will help, you are welcome to join me in the Archives today. I still have some entries to input, but if you would like some company, I’ll be there.”

You straightened up in your seat, eyes wide with excitement, before a flash of hesitancy crossed your face.

“It…won’t be bothersome to you?” 

“You’re never a  bother,” he said firmly. “Though, perhaps your slumber parties with March 7th while I’m trying to sleep may be.” 

That earned a laugh out of you. “Well, if you joined us one night, maybe you would see the appeal. Even Caelus joins sometimes!” 

Dan Heng smiled at that. “Perhaps you are right.”

You nodded and said matter-of-factly, “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”

He chuckled, happy to see a glimpse of your normal self coming out. Seeing you dejected and downcast was something he hated to witness, though he knew everyone had those moments. They were inevitable, after all. But Dan Heng wished he could always be there for you during those times.

It was natural to feel that way towards a good friend, he told himself. If he said it enough, maybe he would be convinced. 

So why did he feel his heart race when you asked him to help you up from the couch? And why was he glad you didn’t let go of his hand even after you stood up?

Dan Heng wet his lower lip as he glanced at your connected hands. They were not even interlocked—just barely brushing—yet he still reacted in such a way. He looked over at your face and noticed a bashful smile gracing your features. It was a sight he wasn’t exactly used to seeing, but it was pleasant nonetheless. 

Perhaps similar thoughts flashed through your mind about him. Did your heart also race when the two of you made close contact? Did your stomach flutter at his touch? He wanted to ask, but chose to hold back for now. You were distraught and vulnerable from your difficult night, and he thought it was more important to help you feel calm and well-rested first. 

But as he caught you sneaking glances at him before looking away with a coy expression, Dan Heng knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back for long. Still, patience was a virtue and he was confident that it would pay off. 

Soon, he promised himself. Dan Heng caught your eye and this time, you didn’t look away. He smiled and you returned it tenfold. Very soon.

[cassandraclare]

A bit of publishing stuff (if you get my newsletter you've already seen this)

So by now you lovely people have all seen the announcement about what books I have coming up next. Ragpicker King is coming March 4, 2025, and The Last King of Faerie is coming early 2026.

I know a lot of you were hoping for LKOF to come earlier. It’s going to be a big gap between the last Shadowhunter book and the next — three years. Previously the longest gap between Shadowhunter books was two years, between Mortal Instruments and the Dark Artifices.

I announced last year that I was taking time off — six months. It was the first time I’d taken any real time off since 2005. The pandemic had just happened and I was wiped out physically and mentally. I also needed to take stock of where I was in my publishing journey and really think about what I wanted — it had been years since I’d had time to consider whether I was happy, because I always had another deadline and that was always more important.

  When I came to the end of The Last Hours, I was “out of contract” — meaning I didn’t have any further Shadowhunter books that were owned by or owed to a publisher.  it was the first time that had happened since, again, 2005. Being out of contract is your one chance to change anything you want to change about your career, and I knew I was going to leave my longtime US publisher of the Shadowhunter books and move to Random House, who published Sword Catcher.

This isn’t a small decision for any writer to make. It sometimes happens when a writer has been at a publisher for a very long time that the nature of the publisher changes. Maybe all the people you worked with when you first came to that publisher have gone elsewhere, so your team has inherited you rather than having chosen you. Maybe your publisher has been sold to another company whose vision for that publisher doesn’t fit with yours. Maybe your publisher isn’t interested in your genre anymore. 

I spent a lot of time agonizing over the decision—I certainly could have stayed where I was, but I knew that was no longer the best decision for the books. So those of you who pay attention to these kinds of details will note that where the other Shadowhunter books have all been published by McElderry Books, these next ones will be published by Knopf. (Who are an amazing imprint. They make great books.)

Normally a writer wouldn’t really address switching publishers — it happens a lot, and most readers don’t care who publishes a book. I’m talking about it now because I know there will be a lot of people who are angry and don’t understand why Ragpicker King is coming out before Last King of Faerie. The short answer is: Ragpicker King has been under contract since it was sold along with Sword Catcher, years ago now, and I’m obligated to get it done when I said I was going to. The books of The Wicked Powers are only just now securely under contract enough to be announced, as you just saw! So Ragpicker King is planned to be turned in in a couple of months, and after that I will be able to focus entirely on The Last King of Faerie (which I already began, but since it was only sold to Knopf last October, I was only able to get started after that).

And it takes a a year at least to write a book and another good year or so to publish it, and that gets us to the pub dates we’ve got. I would love if I could get it to you earlier, but multiple factors have brought us to this point, and in the end, not rushing through them is the best thing for the books, and will produce the best version of those books. I always want to get you my best work — that’s what is important to me above all things.

In terms of other publishers in other countries — I’m staying with all my longterm Shadowhunter publishers. Nothing’s going to change for y’all — Walker Books is still publishing Shadowhunters in the UK, even though a different publisher is going to publish In Fire Foretold there (due to spiciness.) ;) 

For those of you who backed the Kickstarter, that will mean you do get new Shadowhunter content between now and early 2026* — which was part of the reason I did it! I’m also talking to my new publisher about bringing Better in Black out — with at least a six month gap for the Kickstarter backers to have it to themselves — so fingers crossed. There’s also Black Volume of the Dead, the final Eldest Curses book, which is still planned and which I am still excited to write, but since it is set after Last King of Faerie, it hasn’t been scheduled yet. More news on that as it develops—for now, I wanted to talk directly about the schedule in the next couple of years, since I feel confident it is set and will reliably happen this way, something I can’t yet say about 2027 and beyond. The point is, I’m really excited to bring you Wicked Powers just as soon as it is ready, and I know enough about it to say  it’s going to be quite a ride!

And also an early look at In Fire Foretold.

[polaroidpascal]

paradise city || joel miller

AO3 || MASTERLIST || FREE PALESTINE

pairing : guitarist!joel x f!reader

summary : when you and your friends go out to a bar to see a local band gig, you can’t help but notice how the guitarist’s eyes somehow keep finding you in the crowd.

tags : M-18+, no use of y/n, no outbreak AU, i imagine joel is in his early 40s, no age gap mentioned, mention of reader’s breakup, mentions of alcohol consumption, joel starts off a little shy but truly there ain’t nothing shy about this man, size kink (kinda?? a little bit??) oral (f! and m! receiving), unprotected p in v sex, dom!joel, joel gets a little possessive (you’ll see what i mean…), praise kink, squirting, multiple orgasms, creampie, aftercare ofc

fic playlist : https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0afpHjoOFylI01OTbV5jol

(picture joel playing during the guitar solos in every single one of these songs 😁)

WC : 7.9k… (no one look at me. not a single soul.)

a/n : 100 FOLLOWER SPECIAL !! i apologize in advance for all the song lyrics i’ve scattered in this fic… i opted to make a playlist of the songs i think joel’s band would play but there were just too many good ones to pass up and i was losing it a little bit 🫠 also, shoutout to @joelsdagger for constantly yapping with me about this idea and letting me tease her about this absolute menace of a man and also @haileymorelikestupid for beta reading for me 🥹😭 it feels extremely fitting to post a joel fic on international women’s day where he fucks you so good, so i hope y’all enjoy !! <3

You and your friends have had a week. 

Deciding you all needed a night to let loose and have fun together, your friend Erica found out about this place hosting a local rock cover band called Fetters Whiskey and thought it might be nice to come see them.

Earlier, you had all piled into the Uber and were headed out, a low girly chatter filling the car. The three in the back harped on about their spouses and all the little things that annoyed them. 

“He left the dishes in the drying rack!” “She helped me clean a little too well and used all the cleaner, now we’re all out!”

The complaining did help them destress a bit.

You and Erica were in the second row captain’s chairs of the car, the three in the back doing their pregame de-stressing. “Makes you rethink the whole marriage fantasy, huh?” she jokes, looking over at you playing with the rings on your fingers. 

You look up and breathe a laugh. “Yeah, I guess so,” you say with a weak smile.

“Well… have you had any luck finding anyone?” she asks sweetly, sincerely. Genuinely hoping someone has caught your eye.

You had a pretty nasty breakup a while ago, probably about eight months by now. You two had been dating for a while and the breakup honestly seemed to come out of nowhere, like some switch flipped one day and nothing was really the same. Your friends stuck by you through every up and down you had. You felt really lucky to have them.

“No. not yet,” you tell her.

“Well, maybe tonight’s your night,” she says with a friendly smile. “You deserve to unwind and let loose a little, y’know what I mean?” You breathe another laugh. “You do!” she exclaims, hitting your shoulder.

“Yeah, well, I guess we’ll see,” you say, the rest of the car ride seeming to fly by, a part of you kinda hoping she’s right.

The bar is crowded. 

You walk in, snaking the group between the crowd and making your way near the stage towards the back of the bar, men and women alike all brushing bodies the closer you get to the stage, drinks in hand, friends chattering away, everyone waiting for the show. 

Two of your coworkers disappear to fetch everyone a drink while you and the others stake claim on a little area near the stage. A couple of guys are on the stage setting up the instruments and making sure everything is plugged in right, the lights dimmed enough to not really draw much attention to them. It’s not long before the others join them on stage and start playing. The girls return just in time, handing out the drinks as the music starts.

The band is pretty good (you’re not sure what you were expecting, but you’re more than pleased with how good they sound). They play some fan favorites like Wanted Dead or Alive and I Love Rock ‘n’ Roll, and they mix in some random fun songs like Play That Funky Music. 

The drummer is clearly in his own world, head moving at a velocity you would think could give him whiplash. And he’s absolutely killing it, hitting every beat with fervor. You can feel the strikes of the sticks on his drums in the center of your chest. 

Another guy seems to be the swiss army knife musician: pretty good at almost everything, filling in wherever he’s needed depending on the song. One minute, he’s playing his keyboard and the next, he’s busting out a trumpet, and the next, he’s busting out a guitar. And no matter what he’s playing, he’s playing it with passion. 

The lead singer clearly loves all of the attention he gets. He’s feeding off the crowd’s energy like a cat lounging in the sunlight, basking in every cheer and whistle and fist pumping in the air from the crowd. He practically lives at the edge of the stage, crouching down to sing with the girls but backing up to sing and dance with his bandmates too, bringing them in on some of the harmonies and tying the whole show together.

But by far the unsung hero of this group is the lead guitarist. He hides off to the corner, leg posted up on his amp with the body of his guitar resting slightly on his thigh. He looks down at the instrument carefully watching his fingers strum each cord perfectly, furrowing his brow in concentration during his solos and lifting his head up to the sky. He looks like he feels every note in his blood, expressing it through the expert strum of his fingertips on the strings. He doesn’t have a mic and the singer doesn’t make him sing alongside him very much, but you catch him mouthing all the words and getting into the singing as well. 

He’s a particularly pretty man and your eyes linger on him more than the others, always finding their way back to him, and always during the more raunchy lines of the different songs…

Well, I am imagining // A dark lit place // Or your place on my place

I’ma paint his town red // Then paint his wife white

But I got both hands on the wheel while you got both hands on my gears // By now, no doubt we’re heading south // I guess nobody ever taught her not to speak with a full mouth

…but who can blame you when he has such a reserved, cool vibe. Plus, did you mention that he’s really pretty too?

And maybe it’s the couple of drinks getting to you more than you thought, or maybe you’re just crazy, but it seems like every time you look at him, he’s looking away from you. Like he’d been staring and you caught him. You swear he starts to look ever so slightly more flushed, but it’s practically impossible to see with the colored lights flooding the scene. No, you think, that’s crazy. You’re standing in a crowd of people, there’s no way he—

“Hey, I think the guy on lead guitar keeps checking you out!” Erica exclaims over the loud music and singing crowd.

You turn and look at her, eyebrows raised before you turn back to the stage. He does it again, averting his gaze the second he sees you look and you feel a flutter in your chest. He really is checking me out, huh?

You keep staring at him, waiting for him to look back in hopes that you’re looking away. When he lets his eyes wander back to you, you’re still staring. This time, though, he doesn’t look away. His eyes won’t let him now that you’ve caught his attention — like a fly in a spider web.

He turns his body ever so slightly, facing your direction more than anyone else as he plays the rest of the song. The lights focus on him, colorful spotlights of red and blue illuminating his face as he positively shreds his guitar solo. His fingers expertly tap dance across the neck of his guitar, his other hand working double time to strum on beat and hit every single note. You watch in a complete daze as he finishes, sealing off his musical escapade with the smuggest wink right to you.

He put on a show. All just for you.

Something stirs in your belly, a low heat kindling as the band continues to play. Their next song — god, their next song… — really puts the icing on the cake.

The jack of all trades band member busts out a sound board, the sampled sound of a snare drum filling the space, a warped, funky-sounding instrumental following.

You let me violate you // You let me desecrate you // You let me penetrate you // You let me complicate you

The guitarist shares a mic with the guy on the sound board, offering back-up vocals for the song. He’s getting a little bold now, you think.

I broke apart my insides // (Help me) I’ve got no soul to sell // (Help me) the only thing that works for me // Help me get away from myself

He’s locked eyes with you the whole time, changing the tides of who is winning this staring battle for dominance. Each second his gaze stays on you, you feel smaller and smaller, completely at his mercy. He backs away from the mic, preparing to play and licking his lips in a manner obviously made to make you even dizzier than you already are.

I wanna fuck you like an animal  // I wanna feel you from the inside  // I wanna fuck you like an animal // My whole existence is flawed // You get me closer to God

He glances back at you from his guitar, a smirk decorating his face before he turns to keep playing the song. You’re in a complete daze. He’s clearly won this battle, and you don’t even know what to do with yourself anymore.

You have to have this man.

Erica caught a some of his little show for you, watching him wink at you and the way your features fell to a focused stare at him. “Girl, get a room next time!” she teases and all you can do is smile back.

When the set is over, you and your friends walk back towards the bar, not wanting to leave just yet. You claim a few of the tiny standing tables, again gathered with Erica at one while the other girls try to cluster around another.

“So…” she starts, giving you a look of anticipation.

“So…?”

“What the hell was going on between you and that guitarist?” she asks, her tone of voice high with excitement.

You laugh, looking down and shrugging your shoulders. “I honestly have no idea,” you say, shaking your head and blushing a little thinking about his little performance. “I thought I was crazy until you said something.”

“Well, whatever it was, you should go for him!” she encourages.

“Please,” you scoff and laugh, “you’re ridiculous.”

“No, I’m serious! While you were having your little… whatever you were having, I was watching the whole band, and the other guys weren’t doing what he did. And he didn’t look at anyone else the way he looked at you.”

You stare at her, a blush creeping up on your cheeks and that small fire in your belly growing a little bigger, a little hotter.

Erica looks up over your shoulder, “Oh my gosh, there they are!”

As if on cue, the band walks through one of the back doors. Having just put away their instruments and whatever other equipment they brought. They saunter in, hair wet from the sweat of performing and lifting all their stuff back into their van. Trailing behind the rest is that damn guitarist. He scans the crowd before he sees you, his expression opening with a bit of an urgency as he quickly finds the bar to grab a beer.

You turn back to Erica, mouth dry and nervous. “Please, you have to go talk to him,” she practically begs.

“No, I- I can’t. I don’t even know what to say,” you plead. “I’m so out of practice.”

“Oh, quit it. I saw you looking at him first. You had him going before he got bold with you. You still have game, go get that man!” she says.

“I don’t know, Erica—” you start, but youre quickly caught off by a tap to your shoulder. You turn around and it’s him.

“Hi,” you say, desperately trying to hide the nerves threatening your vocal chords and smile genuinely at him.

“Hi there,” he says. God, his voice is so deep. You couldn’t hear it in all of its beauty before, but it has a bass to it that rumbles in your bones.

You stare blankly at him for a second before you finally pipe up, “Um, that was a good set you guys played.”

“Thank you,” he chuckles, looking down at his beer and leaning against the edge of the table.

Erica watches with wide eyes before announcing, “Well, I’m empty. I’m gonna go get a refill, okay?” She winks as she walks away leaving you and this mysterious guitarist alone together.

You turn your gaze back to him and fully take in his features now. His eyes have their own glow to them that persists even with the dim stage lights littered around this bar. His hair is patchy from sweat but still sits pretty. His strong features demand your eyes and you’re unable to look anywhere but him.

He extends his hand out to you, “Name’s Joel.”

“Hi, Joel,” you say, shaking his hand and telling him your name. He echoes it and it sounds beautiful off his tongue. “Listen, I--”

“Y’know, you’ve got one of those faces that stands out in a crowd, anyone ever told you that?”

You shake your head, “No, not necessarily.”

“Well trust me, we’ve played our share of shows and none of them had a pretty girl like you in the audience catchin’ my eye every two seconds.”

You blush, starting to gather your mind back from the sudden thrust into a conversation with who you think might be the prettiest man you’ve ever seen in your life now that you’ve had time to really study his features up close. “You’re no different yourself,” you offer.

“How so?”

“I’m just saying, you’d think the prettiest member would be the one front and center, not tucked in a corner by an amp.”

His eyes bounce back and forth between your own not breaking contact as he takes another sip of his beer. “I don’t want just anyone lookin’ my way, I guess. You gotta work to see this pretty face.”

“Pretty, indeed,” you agree, stepping ever so slightly closer to him. “You put on quite a show up there.”

He leans down just a bit, closing the gap between the two of you even more, “Well, I did have quite the eager audience, didn’t I?” he asks.

You stare at each other for a moment before Joel starts, never breaking eye contact, “Listen, I don’t really do this… but I also don’t get distracted like I did tonight…”

You inch closer to him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah… your friends bring you here?” he asks and you glance at the other table where Erica lingers around your other friends and they’re all looking your way, trying not to be obvious and failing miserably.

“No, we took an Uber.”

“Well, what do you say to savin’ that money you’d pay for an Uber and lettin’ me take you home instead?”

Am I really gonna do this?, you think. Call it a gut feeling or whatever you may want, but the way Joel is looking at you, the way he put on a show just for you, how he spotted you in the crowd to strike up a conversation… Erica did say I need to unwind and let loose…

You grin back at him, “Whose home are we talking about?” you ask.

“I think you know, darlin’,” his tone drops low and deep.

A shiver runs up your spine, that ever-growing fire in your belly burning hotter and hotter. “Come on,” he says, taking your hand in his, making it look miniscule in comparison, and walks you towards the back door he came through earlier. You glance back to the bar, the girls still watching and Erica flashing you a smile and a thumb’s up.

Joel leads you to his truck, opening the passenger door for you. You see the backseat loaded with what must be his personal equipment before his door creaks open and he sits inside, the whole truck bobbing from the sheer size of this man.

He pulls you closer across the bench seat until your legs are touching, his hand snaking around your waist as you relax against his figure and his hands trace your sides.

“I meant what I said, y’know. That you stand out in a crowd.”

You turn to look at him as he quickly glances at you and you slowly bring your arms up, one landing behind his neck while the other cups his face. You slowly, softly, tenderly kiss the spot where his jaw meets his neck leaving open mouth kisses all over. He tilts his head to the side just a little, humming at the feeling and settling his hand right at the swell of your hip, pulling you even closer into his side and squeezing just a bit.

The drive isn’t long at all. He pulls into a parking spot lining the side of the road and once the car is safely in park, he grabs your face with both hands, kissing you deeply. You hum into his mouth, not expecting the sudden movement, and melt into his lips. His soft, warm lips. Your hands trace his body, the two of you unable to get where you want to be from sitting in this truck.

You pull away from him. “Take me inside.”

He immediately leaves the truck urging you to hop out on his side, offering a hand to help you out but not letting go even typing the code for his apartment and after you walk through the door.

You giggle as he pulls you up the stairs of his complex, the two of you itching to have your hands all over one another. You reach the top and he twirls you around in his grip, grabbing you with one hand by the hip and the other cradling the back of your head. He kisses you with an insatiable hunger, like his life absolutely depends on it, as he backs you up until you’re pinned to the door with his entire body pressed against you. 

He fumbles with his keys for the lock to his apartment door, lips locked onto you, eyes closed, lost in the soft sweetness of your lips. He snakes a hand behind the curve of your back to brace you as the door swings open and he pushes you inside.

Your hands tangle in his hair grabbing the soft, damp strands unable to pull him any closer but wanting every inch of him in your mouth, on your lips, practically in your skin. You bite his lower lip making him moan a little into your mouth and your hands reach around to his face, wanting to stay lost in the ocean of his tongue and cheeks forever.

He pulls you back and you whine, already missing the warmth and taste of his tongue, but your disappointment is short lived. “God, darlin’… Need to have you.” he says, voice low and completely feral as he grabs you under the swell of your ass and you jump into his embrace. Your hands wander back up to his hair, pulling and grabbing as he trails his kisses down your chin, your jaw, your neck, soft sounds escaping his lips with every tug and whimper you give him.

His legs mindlessly take him to his bedroom, knowing the pathway instinctively. His mouth leaves your body for just a moment when plops you down at the edge of the bed, but he’s right back on you in an instant, reaching down to the hem of your top. You lift your arms for him to pull it off and he removes it in one fluid motion. He moves his hands to the clasp of your bra next. “This okay?”

Your chest aches with these little moments of tender sweetness from him and you nod, letting him remove your bra and he does so with skill, not fumbling for even a second as he tosses it to the floor.

His eyes immediately dart down, taking you in. He’s all but drooling, his gaze burning hot against your skin. He sinks to his knees taking one tit in his mouth and sucking on your nipple. Your hands immediately run through his hair holding him onto you and humming at the feel of his mouth on you. His other hand grabs your other tit, massaging it and thumbing your growing bud before redirecting his mouth to the other side too.

His hands drop to your sides and run up along your ribcage trailing towards your back, closing you in and burying his face into your neck peppering kisses and licks and nips there. 

“I gotta have you, baby…” he mutters into your neck. “Lay back on my pillows up there.”

You do as you’re told, lounging against his pillows and the headboard of the bed as he pulls his shirt off over his head and crawls up to meet you, hooking his hands in the belt loops of your jeans. He looks up, his gaze silently asking for permission and you nod. He pulls them down along with your panties in one smooth motion.  

You didn’t think about how worked up you had gotten until your hot core, slick with your arousal, meets the cool air of the room sending a chill across your skin. You watch as Joel’s eyes widen slightly at the sight of you, subconsciously licking his lips and softly grunting at the thought of diving in.

You open your legs wider, inviting him in and he settles between your legs, his arms hooking under your thighs locking you right where he wants you, all spread and open for him.

He immediately gets to work, unable to hold back anymore and expertly licks through your folds. His warm, wet tongue feels amazing on you as it dances across every nerve ending down there, each one sending fireworks across your skin. You whine and lean back, lifting your hips up to meet his mouth and squirming under his face.

His hands gently rub your thighs while he drinks you down, his nose occasionally hitting your clit making you whine. He draws flattened circles with his tongue, the surface area hitting you just right. 

“Yes… fuck yes, that feels so good…” you moan.

He moans back, unwilling to leave you for even a moment and he keeps going. One hand falls from your thigh and you keep yourself open for him as best as you can when you feel his thick, calloused fingers teasing your entrance. He slides his middle finger in easily, so he adds his ring finger too, curling up and finding the softest parts of you. But God, are his fingers huge.

Your walls constrict squeezing his fingers and you leak more slick all over his palm. His other fingers flay across your lips and ass, gripping you slightly and he’s got you locked down. 

His tongue continues at your clit while his fingers pump in and out of you, the tips curling up and stroking you perfectly. 

“Right there, Joel… right there… don’t stop… please, don’t stop…” You feel yourself getting closer and closer, the flame burning in your belly all night erupting into a wildfire and igniting every inch of your skin. You feel a tightness start to grow in your belly, inching down your insides as he keeps going, and going, and going, never letting up and reveling in each twitch of your body.

You look up and see him lying flat, his hips subconsciously moving against his boxers and jeans and sheets, getting himself off just from your taste. Finally, he opens his eyes, dark with lust and locks his gaze with you with one especially deep push and curl of his fingers and another wink. That fucking wink. 

“Fuck… fuck…!” It sends you over the edge. The coil snaps and a warm flood fills your body spilling out onto Joel’s hand and into his waiting mouth. He grunts and whines, his tongue never stopping, not even for a second, as he drinks every ounce of your slick getting drunk on your juices.

He only pulls away when you pull him off by his hair, a single line if your arousal still connecting him to you and a groan leaving his lips as he lets you go. You fall back onto the pillow, legs collapsing from their own weight and twitching from your orgasm, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

Joel sits up licking his palm and bringing his fingers up to your mouth, jaw slacked and panting. Your mouth closes around his fingers and he groans, “That’s it, good girl,” he coos and you hum around his digits.

When you fully come back down to Earth, you can’t help but chuckle in the afterglow of your orgasm. Joel rests on his heels gently stroking your knees and you cover your eyes with your forearm, one big sigh leaving your lips. “I guess I should have expected a guitar player to have some skilled fingers,” you joke and Joel chuckles. “That was so fucking good.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not done with you just yet, pretty girl,” Joel teases, holding out his hand to help you sit up. You do and he meets you with a sweet kiss, his hands cupping almost all of your face as he kisses you sweetly.

When he pulls away and you open your eyes, you notice another amp sitting in the corner of the room. This one looks old, unused, and the cable management could use some work, to say the least.

Joel follows your eyeline. “Whatcha lookin’ at?”

“That’s a lot of cables for a little speaker like that,” you say, following the tangled mess of wires scattered on the floor. “Why don’t you use that one?”

“Jus’ got old. Bought a new one and I didnt need it anymore.”

A depraved idea pops in your head and the question leaves your lips before you can even fully think it through. “Those wires… how strong do you think they are?”

Joel looks back at your face, eyebrow cocked up slightly, “What d'ya mean?”

Your bashfulness catches up quick, a shy blush pricking your cheeks. “I mean… just the outside looks braided, almost… it kinda looks like… I don’t know, kinda like a rope…”

His face softens, a look of intrigue spreading across his gaze. “Go on,” he says, his voice dropping impossibly low, dripping with sultry tease.

You look up through your lashes feeling more vulnerable that you have to ask specifically (he seems to love it, though). “Well… I guess, how well do you think they’d hold a knot…?”

He bites back a smirk but can’t quite hide his excitement. “Kinky…” he says with a little nod. “I like it.”

He rises from the bed but he doesn’t turn to grab the wires. Instead, he reaches for his belt, the buckle clinking against itself. “But you gotta earn it first, sweet girl.” He pulls his belt out of the loops of his jeans and tosses it to the side. 

He pauses a second before reaching for the button and zipper, enough time for you to crawl to the foot of the bed and rest your hands on his. You slowly move them away and take over, undoing his button and slowly zipping his pants apart. 

You reach under his groin cupping his covered balls in your hand and he hums. He barely fits in your palm and you salivate at what could be beneath those boxers of his. You look up at him with another gentle squeeze before pulling both down, his cock springing out and up against his lower tummy as he steps out of his pants, the tip already red and leaking.

Your eyes widen when you really take in his size and you salivate. You wrap your hand around him and very slowly pump his length, getting a feel for his size and weight and staring at him the whole time.

He looks down at you, eyes still dark and mouth slightly open. “Go ‘head, baby. Kiss it.”

You feel a flutter in your belly again already and you do as he says, kissing the slit before taking the whole head into your mouth and circling your tongue around it. His eyes roll back and he lifts his head up to the ceiling with a groan, his hand tangling in the hair at the back of your head.

You slowly take him inch by inch making him slick with your spit and using your hand to pump whatever you cant reach. Your other hand gently squeezes his balls and you feel his grip on your hair tighten a bit.

“That’s it, baby… Mouth feels so good f’me…” He starts to slowly push you down his length, taking him deeper and deeper and being careful not to get ahead of himself. 

But then you moan around his length sending lightning up his spine and it feels so fucking good… A guttural groan booms from his chest and he starts to slip, pushing you a little too far a little too fast and you gag, pulling off until it just rests on your bottom lip, spit gathering at his tip and spilling over the corners of your mouth. 

Tears prick the sides of your eyes and his hand reaches down to wipe them away. “Shit— I’m sorry… are you alright?”

You cough and catch your breath, something new and hot burning through your veins. Something about the way he lost all control… “It’s okay, I’m okay,” you say when you pull yourself together a little bit. You wipe the corners of your mouth and reach up to slowly pump his length again. “Let me try again.”

“You sure, darlin’?”

“I’m sure,” you say, looking up through your tear-soaked lashes, a small smile ghosting your lips as you nod. 

He nods back and you take him in your mouth again, closing your eyes and breathing through it, trying to focus on taking as much of him down your throat as you can.

His hands find the back of your head again, not pushing anymore but tangling through your hair as you work.

He looks down and sees your eyes closed, brow furrowed in concentration and taking him so well. He drops a hand back down to your jaw, “Eyes on me, gorgeous.”

You carefully open your eyes to look up at him and when you do, his brows furrow with desperation, unable to look away from you as you bob up and down his length, hands once again pumping the length you can’t reach and massaging his balls.

“Shit, baby… that’s it…” he moans, watching the way your cheeks hollow and lips flush red from taking him. He’s twitching in your mouth and you think you’ve got him, flattening your tongue when he touches the back of your throat and swirling up his length as you pull back.

His abs start to tighten and you taste the slightly salty precum leaking from his tip. You work up the nerve to suppress your gag reflex as best you can, taking a few deep breathes before pushing yourself all the way down, taking his cock up to the hilt.

You stay there, letting your protesting throat constrict around him and he whines, his hand in your hair tightening and making you moan, another bolt of lightning taking over his entire being. His cock jumps in your throat and you think he’s a goner for sure—

He pulls you off his length completely and you gasp for air while he catches his breath too. “Nuh uh, baby. It can’t be over yet,” he says breathlessly.

You pout up at him, your doe eyes almost black from how blown your pupils are.

“Get back on the bed,” he demands.

So you do, rising a little wobbly from your knees and crawling back up onto the bed. Joel walks to the corner of the room and unplugs some of the cords plugged into the old amp. 

He digs around in his nightstand and pulls out a condom before walking back over to the bed where you’re kneeling on the mattress. He sees you eyeing the little packet pinched between his fingers. “What’s th’ matter?”

You look at him, a blush forming on your face. “Oh, I…” Your mouth goes dry and you clear your throat. “…um, you don’t— I mean, I’m on the pill so, um… If you don’t wanna…” you ramble, trying to find your words but failing in your shyness.

He smiles smugly, tossing the condom to the side. “’S okay. I hear you loud and clear.”

You take a relieved breath and watch him stand there as he starts separating the wires. He twirls his finger in the air and you turn your body to face away from him.

“Gimme your hands, darling,” he says, firmly but gently.

You obey, reaching your hands behind your back. His giant hand easily fits both in one grip and he wraps one cable around your wrists.

You can’t help but smile to yourself, facing away from Joel so he can’t see, but you’re sure it’s audibly obvious when you ask “So this must be where the band name came from then, hm?” as he ties a comfortable knot around your wrists.

“What d’ya mean?”

“Fetters. Like restraints. Usually they’re on the ankles but I guess it’s the same principle.”

He breathes a laugh. “I mean, I didn’t help with the name all that much, but I guess ya’ really do learn somethin’ new every day,” he says just as he tightens the loose, but still restrictive, knot around your wrists.

You shimmy in them a little, surprised at how well they hold together. His hands are still there, rubbing over the covering of the cords and brushing against the warmth of your skin.

“These look real pretty on you, y’know,” he mutters from behind you.

You chuckle and ask, “You tell all the groupies that?”

He grabs your chin to face him, eyes scanning over your face for a second and planting a kiss to your lips before a positively devious smirk spreads across his face. Before you know it, he puts his hand on your back gently pushing down so your chest hits the bed. 

“No, I don’t,” he says and you hear his footsteps fade. You sit there, face pressed against the mattress and ass in the air, desperately trying to crane your neck to see where in the world he’s going leaving you like this, all out in the open and exposed.

He treads back into the room and climbs back onto the bed right behind you, calves brushing up against the inside of your own as he grabs your hips to straighten them.

“I don’t tell the groupies nothin’,” he starts. “Usually jus’ ask if they want an autograph.”

The unmistakable click of a Sharpie cap rings in your ears and you feel the cold tip of the pen dragging along the skin right below the small of your back. You gasp, surprised at the unexpected feeling, completely shocked at the sheer audacity of this man, and you can’t help the butterflies it gives you, the way you mewl so quietly at the thought of him marking you with his name — his signature, no less — in such an intimate place.

You need to find a way to keep this man.

The pen trails off at the end and he recaps the marker, tossing it somewhere to the side before you feel his hands smoothing over your hips. He lets out a low toned, one-note whistle at you, staring at the dark ink branding your lower back. “Now, what a pretty view I have,” he says, a tantalizing, saccharine sweet tone lacing his words.

You can’t hold back the whimper that falls from your mouth at his teasing, his big warm hands rubbing big circles over each cheek. 

He sees you clenching around nothing. “Want me to fuck you now, sweet girl?”

“Yes, please,” you whine, earning you a light tap on your ass.

He pulls on the cords and wraps an arm around your torso, bringing you up flush to his torso and reaching a hand to your mouth. “Gimme some help.”

You spit into his hand and he hums in content. “Atta girl,” he says, gently laying you back down and pumping his length with the wetness. You feel the tip of his cock rub against your folds and you squirm. He grabs your hip with his free hand as he lines himself up to notch right at your entrance. He slowly pushes just the tip in, the pressure making you moan.

“I gotcha, baby. Jus’ relax f’me,” he coos, pushing inch by inch into you letting you adjust to his size. Your walls twitch at the intrusion and your breathing gets heavier, soft sounds escaping your lips. Eventually, he’s up to the hilt and you swear you can feel him in your lungs. You subconsciously swirl your hips, the movement inside making you whine.

“Shit, baby… so fuckin’ tight…” Joel breathes, squeezing your hips and trying not to lose his cool too quickly. His cock bounces and he grunts, taking a minute before slowly pulling out of you as you whine at the loss. It’s short lived, though, because he’s immediately pushing back into you, the stretch and burn pulling a desperate groan from your throat. 

“Fuck yeah, baby. You like how that feels?” he moans, picking up the pace slightly with each thrust. 

“Yes— fuck, feels so good…” you moan. The way his cock drags along your walls makes your belly burn hot. His grip on your hips tight and threatening to bruise if he squeezes any harder, but you couldn’t care less. Just another way for him to mark you as his.

“Squeezin’ my cock so good… she’s achin’, baby…” He’s very talkative, you think and decide to play into it. 

“She’s all yours, Joel. Pussy belongs to you,” you say as you squeeze him again, the pressure in your belly growing with each gentle kiss to your cervix that his tip gives you. 

You feel his pace falter for a second, his grip tightening at that. “Yeah? Say it again. Who’s she belong to?” he says, pounding into you now, unable to keep control of his pace anymore.

You whine loudly with one of his thrusts when he drags up a bit hitting something new inside of you, something your ex surely hadn’t ever found before. Something you definitely had on your own but never this deep…

“Theeere it is,” he coos, pressing your torso down some more to get the angle just right and he’s hitting that soft, spongy part of you with every snap of his hips. You can barely form the words to tell him how fucking good it feels, nonsense whimpers leaving your mouth instead.

“Answer me, baby… Belongs to who?” His pace doesn’t let up and you can’t get the words out. “C’mon, you can do it, gorgeous… tell me…” he insists, slowly rubbing his hand across his own signature that’s been staring back at him.

“Sh… fuck, oh my god… she belongs to you, Joel…”

“That’s my good girl,” he says, leaning down and planting kisses down your spine, snaking a hand around to your front and circling your clit.

You cry out in pleasure, all the sensations getting to be too much. A flood of wetness spills out with a twitch of your insides making Joel’s cock slippery, letting him push in and pull out easier than before. He picks up his pace again with ease, rapidly hurdling you towards the edge.

My good girl…

That one little word finally hits you after a minute. 

My.

His unrelenting fingers on your clit… the way his tip hits your cervix with every snap of his hips… my good girl… it’s all too much. “Fuck… fuck… fuck, ‘mgonnacome…” you mumble in a high pitched whine.

“Fuck yes, baby… come all over my cock, that’s it… feels so fuckin’ good, darlin’…” he moans from behind you, the grip on your hips definitely bruising now as he keeps pounding into you. Your back arches and your whole body writhes as your walls squeeze him impossibly tight. Your vision blurs and you have no control over the downright pornographic sounds escaping your mouth. All you feel is warmth everywhere.

“Holy shit—” you hear Joel but he sounds far away, your head still spinning with pleasure. “Fuckin’ hell, baby…” When you feel like you can finally see again, you see a wet spot on the bed and your eyes go wide, quickly craning your head around as best you can and see Joel’s thighs soaked from you.

“Oh, shit— I-I’m sorry, oh my fucking god, I didn’t meant—” you stop mid sentence when Joel plows into you again bottoming out completely, your words trailing off into a wailing moan.

He drags out slowly but quickly regains his momentum. “Fuck, baby… Chokin’ my dick so good… So. Fucking. Hot,” he says, punctuating his words with the slap of his hips on your ass.

Your legs start to give out under you and it’s like Joel already knows you’re almost too gone to take anymore as he unties the knot at your wrists, your arms falling to the bed. He flips you over, managing to stay inside, and lays you on your back. Your hair lays messily on the pillow and Joel leans down to fix it, tracing his fingers along the side of your face and kissing you deeply.

When he pulls away, he stares at your fucked-out eyes, his own completely taken over by his pupils so much that you can barely tell what color they actually are anymore. “Baby, you gotta give me one more…” he begs.

You raise your eyebrows worriedly, unsure if you can actually take anymore. You whine at his ask and he gives you another quick kiss, resting his forehead against your own when he pulls away, your lips barely touching. He’s moving in and out of you at a snail’s pace, so close to his own orgasm that any extra movement would cause him to snap. “Please, baby, I know you can do it. Doin’ so good for me already, just one more…”

You nod weakly and stare through hooded eyes. “Thank you, angel,” he sighs, gently fucking into you a little quicker and peppering kisses at the corners of your mouth. Your hands trail up to his shoulders rubbing up and down on his soft skin. Forehead pressed to yours again, you feel him panting, small moans and whimpers filling your ears.

“Feel so good…” you use all your strength to whimper out, barely above a whisper. His eyes open, brows furrowed in desperation. You feel him twitching hard now, so close to his own orgasm but not wanting this to end.

“S’good, Joel… so big…” He whimpers at your words, his hips moving erratically, unpredictably. He’s close, you think. And it eggs you on.

“Want you to come for me… Please…”

“Yeah? You want it?” he breathes. 

“Please…” you say again in a whimper, grabbing his face in your hands.

“Where, baby? Want it inside?”

“Yes, inside… please, please, please…” you beg.

“Come with me baby… wanna feel you squeezin’ me… fuck— c-can you do that?”

You whine and nod, having been teetering on the edge of overstimulation with another orgasm growing in your belly. You roll your hips slightly into him, the extra movement sending shivers down your spine.

“So close, baby, I can feel it… ‘s right there, she’s chokin’ me…” he grunts out, painfully holding back his own until you come undone under him again.

Which doesn’t take long, a flutter of your heart and one big wave of arousal covering you from head to toe making you see stars. Your mouth opens in a silent moan, unable to even make a sound as you come on his length all over again.

“Fuck… fuck… good girl, ‘m gonna come—”

Joel’s breathing quickens, becoming ragged and broken as he grunts and whines and spills inside of you. His lips press to your forehead suppressing his noises with kisses there as he empties himself inside of you, filling you up completely.

Your hands scrape his back at his shoulders, your senses all blurring into one another. Joel’s weight falls on top of you as he moves his kisses down from your forehead to your nose and finally to your lips, his tongue licking into you as you feel his cock finally stop twitching. He sits back to pull out of you watching as his cum leaks out of you. You whine at the loss feeling empty but still so full from him, shivering as you feel it dripping down your body.

Joel wipes his sweat-ridden brow and sighs with a goofy smile as he looks down at you. Your body is still jolting from your last orgasm. Any more and you would have been overstimulated beyond belief.

“Now that I definitely don’t do with the groupies, sweetheart,” he teases.

You give him a playful glare and chuckle at him. “What about all that autograph nonsense, then?”

“Well, you got the first of its kind. Never signed anyone there before.”

You blush and stretch a little, suddenly feeling that damp spot from earlier. You sit up in panic and sit back leaning against his pillows again. “Shit, Joel. I’m so sorry. That’s never happened before, I—”

“Stop,” he cuts you off. “Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry for. Sheets can be washed.”

“But I made a mess—”

“C’mere, baby,” he says, extending a hand out to you. You take it and he pulls you towards him, both of you on your knees facing each other as his arm snakes around your torso pulling you even closer into him. “‘M gonna get you cleaned up, ‘kay? Got a spare bedroom we can use anyway.”

You stare into his eyes, his words bouncing around in your head. We can use. “We?” you ask.

He scrunches his eyebrows, raising one at you. “What, you wanna run away already? Was it that bad?” he jokes.

“Oh, quit,” you say, playfully hitting his shoulder.

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, standing up at the end of the bed and holding his arms out to you. “C’mon, pretty girl, how’s a warm bath sound, hm?”

“Sounds amazing, actually.” You grab his hands and stand up, taking a second to get your balance before following Joel to the bathroom.

When you’re all cleaned up, you walk into his living room wearing one of his t-shirts, a pair of his boxers, and some very oversized socks that he left in the bathroom for you to change into, towel drying the rest of your hair so it's not dripping everywhere. He sits on his couch, fresh pajamas on and dampened hair from the shower he took in the other smaller bathroom.

He taps the space next to him inviting you to sit, TV on and low, playing some random movie he found to fill the silence around him while waiting for you. You curl up into him, you warm from your bath and him warm from relaxing. He squeezes you close, planting a kiss to the top of your head.

Erica was right. You really did need this. Maybe it's stupid that you're growing so fond of this guy and you've known him for just a night, but there really is something about him. Something you can't quite explain...

You spend the rest of the night curled up next to Joel, your entire being content and you can only think one thing:

You’re not letting this one go easily. This one’s gonna be yours.

All yours.

a/n : thank y'all again so much for 100 followers, it means so much seriously 💜🫶🥹 and thank you for reading this fic that absolutely got away from me in the end, this idea tortured me for weeks and hopefully letting him out into the world will give me some peace finally 😭 but really, thank you guys so much and i hope everyone enjoys !!

[vivwritesfics]

Soo, I have an idea, bear with me, it‘s pretty specific (and slightly self-indulgent) but I think it could be nice

Basically, reader has been with Lando for a while already. She played piano as a child but for whatever reason stopped but when Charles releases his piano songs it inspires her to get back to it and Charles ends up helping her practise and they become really good friends (but honestly purely platonic, maybe even siblings vibes) over it. Cue a little bit of angst when Lando gets worried about his girl spending so much time with another guy. But ta-dah, happy end, it turns out that Charles helped her write a song for Lando as a birthday or anniversary present

I absolutely understand if you don‘t want to write this, I just had a little daydream about it and thought you‘d be the perfect person to write it!

Lots of love for you and your works <3

I made the reader Jules Bianchi's little sister

F1 Masterlist

Ever since Jules' tragic passing, Charles had felt a certain sense of protectiveness over his little sister. Everybody thought they were going to start dating, that Y/N Bianchi and Charles Leclerc were destined to be together.

Just like her brother, her life was motorsport. She wasn't a driver, that had never been her desire, but she knew everything there was to know about Formula One. She followed Charles around the world like she wanted to with her brother, supporting him like she would have Jules.

She found love at the race track, but not with Charles.

It was 2019, his rookie season when they met. She had been walking through the paddock, making her way to the Ferrari garage, when she bumped into him. In his McLaren shirt and orange hat, nineteen year old Lando Norris was adorable. It took maybe two years before he finally asked her out. They had been happy together ever since.

Something that most people forget when talking about Y/N Bianchi was her love for music. She had been playing since she was a child and it was something she had used to get through her brothers passing.

She could play several different instruments. While Jules was karting, she was practicing violin, piano, and more. But piano was her favourite of them all.

She still practiced regularly, but it was at the back of her mind as life went on.

But then lockdown happened. She and Lando had just started dating, so she was stuck at home in France, left to call him regularly. She called Charles, too, since he was like an older brother to her. As they talked he walked her around his apartment, setting her up against different surfaces as he did something.

"Charles, is that a piano?" She asked as she looked past him.

He took her closer to it, showing her the new piano he had bought over lockdown.

That was what sparked her playing again.

They didn't have much of a chance to practice together after the season started up again. They still showed each other videos they had taken of themselves playing, but they never played together.

Not until just before Lando's 24th birthday.

Actually, it was the summer break, several months before. But she liked being prepared. Lando had been so fucking excited to spend summer break with her, but she had to blow him off, told him to have fun without her.

Instead she was in Monaco with Charles. They were spending a few weeks in his apartment, writing together until they had a song. Charles had booked a studio, where they recorded together.

***

On the day of Lando's birthday he was woken up with a kiss, breakfast, and a good ol' shag.

"I got you something really special this year," she said as she walked in from the bathroom, using a towel to dry her hair. "Do you remember over summer break, when I stayed in Monaco with Charles?"

Lando's expression darkened. "Yeah, I remember," he grumbled. He knew the nature of her relationship with Charles, but he'd also seen what had been said about the two of them.

Sitting beside him, Y/N ran her hands through his hair. "C'mon, Lan, what's up?" She asked, pouting at him.

Lando threw his head back, exposing his throat as he groaned. "I get sent the articles of you and Charles back from before we started dating at least three times a week. And then you spent summer with him in Monaco and-"

Suddenly she put her hand over his mouth, and Lando softly bit her palm. "I was putting together your birthday present in Monaco. That's why I spent the entire summer with him," she said and pulled up her phone.

Lando sat patiently as she pulled out the song she had written for him. He listened to the piano notes she had put together, to the lyrics she had written. It was, to put it simply, beautiful. He could listen to it on repeat for the rest of his life.

"I... holy shit," he said when the song finished. "I fucking love you," He said. "That was incredible."

[risestarkiss]

Being Purple ○ Part Two

Rise Ramblings #315

Previous | Being Purple ○ Part One This post is a continuation, so I recommend reading Part One before reading this Part Two. ••••

We’ve talked about what Donatello was and his role in the family.

But, we never examined why. Why is Donnie so gung ho on physically providing for his family?

Well, to understand why he feels that way, we need to go back to the beginning. After Splinter and the turtles were mutated, Yoshi was obviously unable to access any of the funds or resources he held as Lou Jitsu due to, you know, him now being a giant rat. He had to start life a new from the bottom of society.

We don’t know what happened during their time on the streets, but we can make some inferences as to what happened next. Splinter eventually moved the boys down into the sewers and was able find a comfortable space for himself and his little family.

Here is where I’m going to try my best to piece together the order of events regarding Donatello’s earliest contributions. I’ll be using two episodes: the season one finale, “End Game,” and the Nick web exclusive mini-episode, “Turtle Tots.”

In Turtle Tots, the family has gathered in Splinter’s room. We can also see the den through Splinter’s doorway. This home is, indeed, the home that we are familiar with in the show. Thus, we now know that at this age the boys were already living in the sewers. We also know that the den has already been outfitted with a tv, electricity, and probably some kind of cable hookup.

Is it possible that Splints did this electrical work all on his own? “End Game” gives us a clue that can lead us to an answer.

Here he is, the boy of the hour. In this picture, given the perspective, young Donnie is much shorter than Splinter. Their heights here are actually comparable to their height difference in the “Turtle Tots” clip. Therefore, I believe it’s fair to conclude that Donatello is about the same height in both instances, and likewise, relatively the same age.  

Given that new piece of information, now we can speculate further.

When you look at the room that crying Dondon is in, he’s surrounded by wires, batteries, boxes, and what appears to be little bits of tech that he was working on, hence the booboo. There’s a small rotary plane of some sort, a tiny workbench, and other bits and pieces. So, we can deduce that Donnie is familiar with electrical work and is building things for himself, even at this young age.

Donatello is already cooking.

With that evidence, I believe it’s reasonable to surmise that Donatello had a hand in hooking the den up with a refurbished TV and in wiring the house with electricity, which is such a big job for such a little guy.  

If it had stopped there, I wouldn’t bring it up, but as we can plainly see…

It never stopped. His labors are endless. Everything from the turtles’ transportation, their living space, and their comforts at home was created, built, enhanced, and refurbished by Donatello. Consequently, he internalized the idea that his usefulness equated to the safety and security of his family. And that’s just how he lived his life.

He doesn’t know any different, and I’m sure at this point he wouldn’t want any different. This is his role. This is his place. Besides, his beneficence makes his brothers happy, and his father happy, and by extension it makes him happy.

Hence, his “gift giving” love language.

If Donnie is happy, then where’s the problem?

I’m sorry, but external validation as a primary source of happiness, or even worse, as a source of self-esteem, is dangerous…

But I digress…

From the outside looking in, it’s easy to assume that his genius is best utilized as a tool for the team’s benefit. But as a child, the weight of ensuring their entire family’s physical infrastructure is a large burden to bear…and it is almost the exact definition of Instrumental Parentification.

Parentification is a process in which a role reversal occurs where the child or adolescent is obligated to act as a parent would to their siblings or to their actual parent. Instrumental Parentification involves a child assuming the responsibilities of maintaining a household through physical means. In this case, Donatello literally maintains the household.

I’ve said all of that to say this.

Donatello has been subjected to Instrumental Parentification for almost his entire life. He doesn’t know life without providing for his family, but he’s happiest when his family is comfortable and safe.

So when we ask, why does Donatello make these sacrifices for his family, the answer is obvious. Love. And that answer reigns true in the past, present, and future…

Anyways, Donatello is such a complex and intriguing character, I could go on about him forever. But I think this as good a place as any to put a pin in my deep dive on this fiery little grape, because our next dive’s focus is on the true pinnacle of the Hamato clan…

○○○○

Previous | Being Big Red • Being Baby Blue • Being Purple ○ Part One

Next | Orange, Baby!

Finale | Being Hamato Yoshi

[lets-try-some-writing]

In your professional opinion: what would be some Cybertronian Superstitions? Like do the miners hit the entrance of mines after someone dies inside it to help free their sparks from their tomb? Do people not say Unicron’s name after dark for fear it’ll summon him? Is there a name(s) that you can’t say inside the Iacon Hall Of Records or else you’ll be cursed with bad luck????

Please feel free to go hog wild with this.

Oh boy I LOVE the idea of that sort of thing. Honestly, I can see all sorts of little superstitions existing due to mythos and history.

Miners make it a point to never leave their tools unattended. They take them everywhere. To recharge, to fuel, even to get repairs. As for why they do this? There is a certain belief that the tools carry a bit of the luck and wisdom of those who held them previously. And since most tools are handed down from one fallen miner to the next, miners treat their tools with reverence. Many have carried the same pick, and each has left their mark. It cannot be disregarded.

Additionally, miners refuse to enter a deep tunnel system without whistling down it first. The habit has been long since made null and void by tunneling improvements, but there are stories of miners getting lost in the dark, before they adapted to it. Many died before their optics were augmented to the low light conditions. Great swaths of miners still believe that the wandering sparks of those lost in the dark linger there, scared and alone. Whistling down the tunnel before entering gives the lost spirits of the dead something to cling to, a guide to the afterlife in a sense.

Gladiators have a particular set of beliefs revolving entirely around the concept of honor. They know that their work is bloody and often cruel, and so they have developed a strange set of beliefs. Every gladiator, before combat, will take a stick or something equally useless, and snap it in half. They will give half of their broken instrument to a trusted comrade and march off to fight. If they return alive, the two pieces are to be put back together and promptly crushed into powder to be cast out upon whichever mech or beast died so that the gladiator could live. A sign of respect. However, if the gladiator were to die, their comrade is obliged to gather up the fallen's half of the instrument and have them run through their funeral rites with the joined object. This is done out of a belief that the dead must be honored, lest they linger in the living realm to haunt those who killed them (in the case of the gladiator surviving) or to stay with the other piece of their spark (in the event the gladiator dies).

Gladiators also have a firm belief that going into battle without paint will inevitably lead to bad luck coming upon them. They take meticulous care of their accenting paint, tracing swirls and jagged lines with delicate touches meant for those of higher castes. Some believe the marks distract enemies. Others say that the marks ward off attacks, letting otherwise lethal combat situations turn in their favor. No one really knows what they do. It is just something that must be done. Failure to go into battle without paint has led to more than a few gladiators meeting their end. Seeing such things has left the rest preferring to not take chances. Megatron himself went into battle without paint one time, and he quickly learned never to do that again when he returned with a brand new scar on his shoulder.

Amongst dock workers, there are various superstitions revolving around cargo in particular. It's bad luck to look at someone's cargo if it has a written letter attached. It doesn't matter what is in the box, it is considered a stain on one's spark to witness the usually rather sappy interactions between those who bother with sending hardcomms. Additionally, dock workers have long since grown to fear any box that comes in solid black. There was exactly one incident where a black box appeared amidst the cargo and disappeared without a trace, taking several other cargo pieces with it. Since then, any black boxes are either thrown right off the truck with a collective agreement that the loss will be signed off as an accident, or said boxes are loaded up with one unfortunate spark to transfer alone. Black boxes being delivered by one mech are often found missing, the driver and the box itself having vanished without a trace. Black boxes are terrifying, and not one dock worker is willing to risk it.

It is also notoriously bad luck among dock workers to deny the youngling with golden optics a ride. They will appear anywhere and at any time without rhyme or reason. When they appear, they never say a word, instead coming up to dock workers and pointing toward whatever transport they are loading up. Dock workers have long since learned to quietly nod and promptly ignore the youngling as they load up alongside the cargo. Interacting with the youngling results in the worker in question befalling some unfortunate end. Ignoring the youngling entirely leads to a similar situation. This superstition began long ago, and many younglings have abused it relentlessly since no one knows what the mysterious youngling from the myth actually looks like aside from their optics.

Low caste mecha as a whole have a strange superstition revolving around the concept of truth. They are notorious for keeping information to themselves, but low caste mecha never ever outwardly or blatantly lie. They are very careful to leave even the smallest grain of truth in their words. Why? Because telling lies brings the whispers of Liege Maximo. What are the whispers? No one is exactly sure. It is an evil omen, one that has led the low castes to develop odd honesty. They don't want to risk Liege's touch, not when he was stated to have been torn apart during the first age for his manipulations.

Low level soldiers hold the belief that giving away their names to one another is bad luck. Since they can all die at any given moment, they find it easier to remain nameless around one another. To them, remaining without a name in the optics of those around them ensures that survivors of battle can move on without fear. Giving a name means binding oneself to another. Their sparks might linger if they are attached, and that could lead to pain for both themselves and their comrades. So to get around this, soldiers don't do the name thing. Instead, every soldier refers to each other through characteristics or words of endearment. "Yellow" for a mech with yellow plating. "Comrade" or "Brother" for a mech they have served with frequently. Anything except a name. It would be cruel to bind the dead to living and the living to the dead.

Soldiers also have a belief that leaving a corpse to rot is incredibly bad luck. It doesn't matter whose corpse it is. It can't be left out. If nothing is salvageable, the spark chamber must be removed and taken to be given proper funeral rites. Not a spark wants to risk and angry spirit lingering because the body was not tended to properly. This belief extends to the point where soldiers will actively tear out their own spark chambers if they know they are going to die (or request others to do it for them). They don't want to linger and haunt those around them, so its best that the core of their frame is guaranteed proper rites.

Flyers of all kinds simply refuse to fly when Luna 1 and 2 are fully aligned. There are a thousand stories telling tales of fliers crashing, being killed, hit by rogue shots, and everything else. They won't risk it, and instead of flying, flyers will instead actively hide from the moons on such occasions. Usually unwilling to be locked in tight spaces, such cycles are the exception. To be seen by the moons is to be hunted. They won't risk it. Additionally, flyers have one particular stretch of Cybertronian landscape they all avoid like the plague. Mecha have been known to go in and never come back out, or if they do return, they are changed. They don't want to mess with that place, not for anything.

Flyers also hold the firm belief that one must keep their optics in perfect condition. They run tests all the time to ensure that their optics function without issue. Some even go so far as to get goggles or visors built into their frames just to protect them. Most chalk this up to a simple desire to not go blind. But flyers think differently. They won't get their optics replaced even if its an option. Why? Because they hold the belief that they carry the optics of a mech who didn't get to soar. Every flyer who has ever lived has had the optics of a grounder who will never get to grace the skies. For flyers, they see their optics as something sacred. They fly not just for themselves, but also for whoever their counterpart is, living or dead. They honor another through their sight, and so they must maintain their vision at all costs. Some call the phenomenon something akin to soulmates. The flyers state that it is the price they pay for their gift of flight.

(Note: Starscream and many of his people do not subscribe to the above thought process. Thundercracker is the only notable exception. Most chalk this up to his love of romance novels.)

Enforcers have many little quirks depending on city, but one they all share is the universal habit of naming their weapon of choice. It is a strange not quite religious belief for them. Whatever the thought process actual is, Enforcers rely heavily on their weapons, and as such, they must appease the weapon itself. They have to bond to it, make it an extension of themselves so that they can move it just as easily as a limb. They go about this through naming, and once named, they never get rid of the weapon in question. Even if its outdated, old, or broken. The weapon stays. If it is obliterated or lost, the Enforcer is obliged to get a copy of their prior weapon for the sake of their continued success. For this reason, most Enforcers fight with inbuilt weapons until they settle on something, and then they buy several copies just in case.

Enforcers will also never actively say "goodbye" to one another. Doing so would imply that there is a possibility of not coming back from the next patrol. So Enforcers simply don't use such language. "Good luck" or "Get those slaggers" are common supplements. Surprisingly, Enforcers only dodge around "goodbye" while on duty. They will casually wave off companions when not on the clock without a care in the world. However, if an Enforcer really does not like someone while on the clock, they will say "goodbye" as their polite version of a middle finger.

It is not exactly a rule, but Archivist as a whole simply do not refer to the Primes by name most of the time. There is a belief that uttering their designations aloud will bring their gaze upon whoever spoke. That can either be good or bad depending on the context, but since Primus's chosen can never really be predicted, most Archivists won't risk it. Instead, if they must say a Prime's name, they will tap a nearby surface a few times to supposedly draw attention away from themselves and hopefully keep the Prime in question from seeing them. It makes no sense, but even Orion Pax kept to the habit. Although some, like Orion, usually worked around this by coming up with slightly different pronunciations of the designations of Primes to hopefully avert their gazes.

Archivists also refuse to read anything relating to relics after a certain time. There is a longstanding belief that doing so can drive a mech mad. Hidden knowledge comes at Primus's chosen joor. Sometimes Archivists will reach grand discoveries at this specific time after delving into records of relics. But more often than not, Archivists have been noted having mental breakdowns, crying, losing their minds, or otherwise going haywire. Medical professionals chalk it up to exhaustion and mania. The Archivists believe it is a warning. They refuse to read about relics during Primus's joor. Obviously, there are some thing between the veil they are not meant to know.

Medics won't come within a ten mile radius of the smelting pits where most of the dead are dealt with. They believe it is a bad omen to linger in places of death, and that the wrath of the deceased can stick to their frames, making other patients lose their lives. This has led medics to make it a habit to remove dead mecha from hospitals as fast as physically possible, handing them off to medical students to carry to the pits. Medical students hardly ever do anything of note with the patients, so the professionals don't feel bad dumping all the potential bad luck on them. The only medics who actively hang around smelting pits are morticians and mecha focused on autopsies. They think lingering around the dead will help them understand the dead. That way, they can better diagnose just what killed a mech. Such medics are usually avoided by the rest who work with the living.

Medics have very sensitive servos. There is a longstanding belief that if a medic is to retire or happens to die, he or she must give up their servos to a younger medic in training. This is to pass on skill, at least in theory. It is also a sign that a medic in training is skilled and worthy of note. To take the servos of an old medic is to take on their legacy. Similarly to the miners, medics take honoring those who came before them very seriously. They will go above and beyond to keep their servos in perfect condition so that whoever comes after them can have the vital sensors that come with a medic's servos. Ratchet is one of the few mecha to not have inherited his servos from anyone. He has also never signed up to have anyone get them after he dies. Most take this to mean he never will die. And considering how long Ratchet has lived, a good chunk of the population firmly believe that Ratchet is eternal.

[luvrxbunny]

fame

pairing: ex-bf!Eddie Munson x f!reader

summary: Eddie makes a grave mistake.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, angst, insecurity, 'do i wanna know' (lmk if i forgot anything)

wc: 3.6k

a/n: a few things! Id suggest listening to the song before and/or after you read the fic! I wouldn’t suggest during because obviously it wont be on tempo. this can either be modern!Eddie or we can just pretend that “Do I Wanna Know” came out back in 1980. also idk anything abt instruments so shut up if i messed up anywhere— this is one of the worst ones ive written im sorry i just wanted to post

You and Eddie were happy. You guys got to see each other all the time since you became the lead singer of Corroded Coffin. The band supported you two going public endlessly due to the amazing on-stage chemistry you both brought to the shows. The more touchy, and lovey you guys were, the more people would come to the next show. But with this new, larger crowd came a new wave of women wanting to sleep with the hot lead guitarist, Eddie. 

You had no problem with it before. You know he wasn’t very popular in high school and it took you months to convince him that you honestly found him attractive, that you weren’t playing some practical joke, or just trying to bait him into embarrassing himself. So you were pretty happy to see all the attention he was getting, the attention he deserved. You could see his confidence rising, he would smile at the crowd more, play more impressive riffs and you’d get to watch his chest puff up in pride as the crowd uproars for him. 

But as he got more attention from the crowd, his attention was on you much less.

After shows, instead of hanging back with the rest of the band and relaxing backstage, he’d be out in front “entertaining the crowd” as he lovingly put it. It bothered you a bit because this is where you and Eddie got most of your quality time from but you would never take his little fanbase away from him so of course you never said anything. But there was this one week, gig after gig after gig. 

You got no love from Eddie on stage and assumed it was because he was too tired to put on such a show. He wasn't too tired for his guitar riffs, but you let it slide. It’s Eddie he’ll make it up to you backstage, or later than that if necessary. 

Then came time to head backstage, and Eddie didn't follow. You decided to let that slide too. He needs this interaction with his fans! He needs and craves that connection to people who are similar to him, maybe he’ll make some more friends around his age! You’d never want to do anything to stunt that. 

But three hours later, you Jeff, Gareth, and Doug aren’t in a forgiving mood anymore. You’d all joked about how once Eddie got a taste of fame he’d just leave you all behind but it’s starting to feel like less of a joke and more of a reality. 

You guys drink and complain, roll up, smoke, complain, and down a few more drinks before you all decide to take a stand. It’s a half-joke, that you’re all going to head out to the front and demand that Eddie come backstage to spend time with his band, with his girlfriend at least. The boys talk about inviting some girls backstage with them to make a party out of the whole ordeal but all those thoughts are gone and replaced with sober, solemn ones at the sight of what's happening at the front of the bar. 

Eddie’s sitting on a barstool, leaning back against the bar like he’s some god, he has his arms spread wide, resting on the bar and surrounded by women. Most of them are taking unpermitted selfies with him— not that he minds, but three women are draping themselves over him. One is at his side, sitting in a seat and resting her head on his bicep as she rambles to him and he’s listening.. intently. There’s another who’s on his other side, stroking and running her fingers through his hair, complimenting his curls, the ones you taught him to take care of. The third woman is standing between his spread legs, leaning over so that her cleavage is perfectly in his face under the guise of looking at and complimenting his necklaces. 

The smile on his face is one you’ve been missing, one you’ve been seeing less and less due to the stress of booking gigs but there it is… beaming for another girl.

Your heart stops when Eddie finally notices you guys standing on the other side of the room. You feel as though it’s about to jump out of your body and crash through the ground. Eddie pulls his arms in and pushes the girl between his legs away from him with a wide smile. “Oh. Hey, baby!” 

He’s getting up, explaining himself, and walking towards you all at once but you can’t even process what you’ve seen yet, let alone hear his bullshit explanation so you walk away. 

You turn and head backstage, already planning on packing your things and leaving. You’ll have to call an Uber because there is absolutely no way you’ll ride in the same van as him. You’re shoving your weed and rolling tray into your backpack when your head clears enough for you to listen to your surroundings again. 

You can hear Gareth and Doug scolding the girls, making them leave. You can also hear quick, sharp footsteps heading your way. Your breathing jumps and tears spring to your eyes, ones you quickly squeeze out and wipe away before Eddie comes through the door. 

You don’t look up at him, you just keep collecting your things and internally make a note to yourself not to leave your things scattered across an entire room. 

“Babe? Wait. Wait, wait you have to listen to me first.” You hold back a laugh and settle for a scoff at his statement. 

“I don't have to do anything, Ed.” His heart stops. You’ve only called him Ed once before; it was the biggest and only fight the two of you have ever had. His hands start trembling at their sides and his heart is beating roughly, rushing blood in his ears. He’s stunned to silence, watching you gather your things in a rush. 

You look around for your phone charger and spot it by the doorway, on a chair next to where Eddie is standing. He notices your gaze and quickly grabs the charger, holding it to his chest. “Listen.”

Your eyes slowly raise to meet his. He looks scared and desperate. You give him a chance. 

You put your bag down and lean against the back of the couch, staring at him and waiting for what you’re supposed to be listening to but he seems stumped. 

He didn’t have a plan or know what to say, he just needed you to stop. He tries to piece together a speech but his train of thought is disrupted by a disappointed sigh from you. “Look, Ed—”

He finally finds words. “Please don’t call me that.” His voice is strained, and you almost feel bad. 

“Why? It’s the title you deserve right now. You’re not my Eddie so I’m not going to address you like you are.” You start walking towards him, tears bubbling in your eyes despite the screaming in your head not to cry. 

“You sat there while those women laid themselves all over you, while the rest of your band, and your girlfriend sat backstage and waited for you. I’m your girlfriend. Do you realize how fucked up that is? You had me waiting and waiting for you, thinking you were just interacting with fans…” You think about how easily he fooled you. 

“I’m an idiot, huh?” You trail off, lost in your thoughts of despair. You’d always been so cautious of men, of giving your feelings, always keeping your guard up so you don’t get hurt, and the one time you decide to bring them down. 

“Okay! I’m fucked up for making you wait, I know that. I- I didn’t realize how long it’d been. I’ve been drinking a-and--” 

You cut him off. “Oh, you were drinking with them too! That’s great, Ed. Just the info I need.”

He sighs defeatedly. “I- It- But they don’t mean anything to me. They don’t! Why does it matter that I was drinking with them? It’s not like I was gonna do anything, baby. You know that.” He steps in your direction but you back away and wrap your arms around yourself. 

It breaks his fucking heart. 

“I don’t know that though, do I? Because never in a million years would I have ever thought that Eddie Munson, my boyfriend, would leave me waiting because he was entertaining other women. Do you understand? How- How nerve-wracking and shocking it was to see you out there like that?” 

You take another shaking breath as you avert your gaze from his, tears spilling from your eyes. “The worst part is that- that I believed you when you said you just wanted to interact with fans. I really— God I was even happy for you. I trusted you, Eddie. Co-Completely. You know how big that is for me and you manipulated it.”

He’s rushing towards you now, dropping your charger and taking your hands in his. “No. No, listen, I- I didn’t realize, I didn’t know it- Baby, I thought it wouldn't matter, I thought you wouldn’t care because I’m yours. We’re together so why does it matter? I- I won’t date them, I won’t fuck them, I don’t love them, baby. I love you.”

You sigh and look down at your feet, unable to watch as his eyes fill with tears. 

You wish he hadn’t said that. The first time you get to hear the words ‘I love you’ coming from his lips and it’s in a setting like this..

“Okay. I believe you, Ed, but… You broke my trust, you technically ch- cheated.” His eyes widen almost comically and as his mouth starts to shape the word ‘No’ you cut him off again. “You say you didn’t but just because you weren’t going to have sex with them doesn’t mean that you should let them all over you like that!” 

Your anger bubbles up again and you finish packing, grabbing your charger and throwing your bag over your shoulder. “You’re not that stupid, Ed. You know what you did was wrong otherwise you wouldn’t have pushed those girls off you when I showed up.” You turn to leave the room but you’re compelled to ask him one more question. 

“Did you how this makes me look? You’re supposed to be mine yet there are girls all over you. It looks like I can’t satisfy you, like I’m not enough. And you know I have shit with what. Or it looks like I’m a fucking idiot letting my boyfriend get felt up by fucking groupies while I’m in the back, none the fucking wiser.” 

His tears are spilling now, one currently streaming dramatically down his cheek. “But we- Like we don’t— You don’t have to leave me. We- I’ll be better. I love you, I don't love them I just.. I’ve never gotten attention like that.. I- I just wanted to know what it felt like.” 

You know he’s trying to get through to you, that he’s trying to explain away and excuse what he did but he’s just hurting you further. Why wasn’t my attention enough? 

“Yeah no, I figured that and um… Ed, I think we should take some time apart.” All you get from him is a badly veiled sob. 

“You can flirt around all you want and… and we’ll see if we still have anything between us by the end of it.”

It’s been a little over a month now. 

He called off band practice until further notice. 

You miss him. 

You took the first week apart to come to terms with what you had just done. It was a smart move. You’re not stable enough to let Eddie flirt around with your trust, especially since it had started behind your back. This way was better. You could take some time to yourself while Eddie does whatever he wants. You decided he could come back whenever he was ready, as long as he didn’t do anything with anyone. 

You meant what you said when you left him but you started regretting it after seeing the obvious dip in Eddie’s happiness. You’d see him in school with his head perpetually down. He doesn’t interact with you at all, he doesn't look at you on campus, he sits on the opposite side of the classroom for any class the two of you have together, and makes it a point to never turn in your direction. 

You truly wanted him to relish in the fame without any guilt on your part. You figured it’d hurt you but you wanted Eddie to be able to experience the popularity he never had before. He was supposed to take his newfound freedom and spread his wings however he wished but instead he just wallowed in what he had lost. 

You hoped he’d come to you in the third week, let you know he doesn’t want he freedom you’ve granted him and he’d beg for you back. But it never happened. You thought about going to him, letting him know that you can see him struggling and you forgive him and you guys can get back together like nothing happened. But your pride couldn’t let you. He hurt you and now he’s hurting, it's fair but you shouldn’t have to be the one to concede. 

After the fourth week, you realized your mistake. You should’ve known Eddie would never have the confidence to come back to you, to ask you for another chance, to ask you to forgive and forget his past crimes. You should’ve given him a set timeframe, you should’ve told him he was free to come back when he was ready. 

In the fifth week, Gareth called a meeting. He’d had enough of the missed practices and awkwardness amongst the band. You all responded to his email in agreement. Except Eddie. 

You thought about going over to his house before practice, just to see if he was planning on showing up, to see if he was okay. But you didn’t.

You were actually quite happy to catch up with the others. You joke about how badly all your skills have diminished without a month of practice. Doug jokes about how he mostly misses the DnD nights. As if on cue, Eddie walks in. 

He’s silent and his hair is a mess, obviously not taken care of and it breaks your heart. The room falls sadly silent as Eddie unpacks his guitar and takes a seat. You feel the tension in the room suffocating you and before you can think the action through you spit out a quiet. “Jesus, Eddie.”

The boys laugh beside you and you roll your eyes before making your way over to him. Eddie looks star-struck, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide as he stares up at you, admiring the olive branch you’re extending. 

You take in his bloodshot eyes— high, and his dark circles. Your heart clenches in your chest, recalling the various late-night calls with Eddie as he complains about his insomnia, and how he would wish you were there to soothe him.

You stand beside his chair, shake your head in teasing disapproval, and run your fingers through his roots. You sigh at the immediate tangle that meets you and lock eyes with him, a playful smirk on your lips. “Where’ve you been, Eddie?”

He sucks in a soft breath to answer before Jeff cuts him off with a loud clap. “Alright, positions everyone. What’re we practicing?” You smile at him one last time before heading for your mic. 

“We could start working on “Do I Wanna Know?” Doug suggests and Eddie immediately groans out. He is very open about his hate for the song, about how he thinks it's overplayed and has no substance. In reality, everyone knows he’s just frustrated with the chords. He always wants his hands busy and the chords to this song just aren’t stimulating enough for him, he thinks they’re “boring”.

“I don’t wanna hear it, Ed. This is what the people wanna hear.” Doug defends as he picks up his bass. You clear your throat and Gareth situates himself behind his drums. Eddie is the only one who doesn’t get in formation, staying seated across from you to your left, almost in your line of sight. You make an effort to keep your eyes forward as Gareth starts the beat, pretending you can’t feel Eddie’s eyes on you as he starts his riff. 

You do your best to keep it together as you notice how easily his hands glide across the guitar, you don’t even see him look down once. You rock in time with the drums before singing out the first line. 

It feels shaky and your voice is scratchy but you power through, the boys know you need some warm-up. Your voice evens out by the next pause and you’re starting to feel more confident. 

“Are there some aces up your sleeve?” 

You see Eddie nodding in approval in the corner and you try not to let pride bleed into your voice. 

“Have you no idea that you’re in deep?”

You look over at him to see him still watching you. 

“I dreamt about you nearly every night this week.” 

You note the recognition in his eyes before you break contact, looking back at the base of your mic stand. 

“How many secrets can you keep?”

You think about how the first time you heard this song it reminded you of Eddie. It almost perfectly encapsulated how you felt for him prior to dating, and it ironically relates to how you feel about him now. Still obsessed but too prideful to do anything about it. 

You can see Eddie still staring at you from his corner, unwavering. He always gets a little more confident with his guitar, but it’s been so long since you’ve been around him you feel stupid, like a little girl with a crush. 

Doug and Gareth come in as your backing vocals. 

“Do I wanna know?”

You take your eyes away from the mic stand and look straight ahead. 

“If this feeling flows both ways.”

You see Eddie sit up in his seat.

“Sad to see you go”

“Was sorta hopin’ that you’d stay.”

You start swaying with the beat, getting more loose, and feeling the song. You switch from foot to foot, swinging your hips gently with a smile. 

“That the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can’t say tomorrow day.”

You look over at him again. 

“Crawling back to you.”

You say the next line as a genuine question, openly targeting him now. 

“Ever thought of calling when, you’ve had a few?”

You glance away from him, nervous under his penetrating stare. He hasn’t looked away from you once. You’re wondering where all this confidence was in the past few weeks. All he needed was for you to speak to him. You study his face, his reaction to the next line. 

“Maybe I’m too, busy being yours to fall for somebody new. Now, I’ve thought it through. Crawlin’ back to you.”

Eddie’s hands finally rest and he leans forward in his chair, cocking one eyebrow at you as if to ask ‘Really?’ and you respond with the next line. 

“So have you got the guts?”

Eddie takes a deep breath before sitting back and adjusting his guitar strap. He runs his hands down his thighs, wiping his clammy palms on his sweatpants as he watches you perform. It’s been so long since he’s seen you, even longer since he’s seen you without it hurting his heart. He’s missed you. 

He takes you in. He notices the pink on your nails, a different shade than the last time he noticed. He can’t help but run his eyes down your body, loving the way you move to the beat, the way you’re shimmying your shoulders. His eyes focus on your lips. 

“Simmer down and pucker up”

He gets entranced with the way they form around your words. He misses feeling them on his, on him. He remembers how soft they are, how raw they get when you’ve bitten them bloody. He watches them stretch over your pearly white teeth in a smile. He can feel your eyes on him again but he can’t pull himself away from your mouth. Not even to look at his guitar as his time comes up. 

You watch Eddie pick his guitar up and start playing again, zombie-like movements as he zeros in on your lips. You try to focus on the words, to stay on key, not stutter or slip up. But Eddie's eyes snap to yours. 

“But we could be together… If you wanted to.”

He takes a deep breath after your last line, as if he was waiting to hear it, like it’s confirmation. You can’t help the smirk that your smile morphs into and Eddie looks down. It looks like he’s focusing on his chords but his eyes are closed, deep breaths filling his lungs as he tries to calm down. 

You’re sure that your performance is mediocre due to the lyrics and pitch being the last thing on your mind. You watch Eddie’s hand slide lazily across the guitar, his ringed fingers moving faster than you could comprehend without even a fraction of his attention. You ignore the pooling in your stomach and look away from him again, trying to focus on anything else. 

“Crawling back to you.” 

You pretend not to hear the smirk in Gareth's voice. You see Eddie looking up at you again in your peripherals. He sits back and adjusts himself, lifting his hips, lowering his guitar and when you glance over you can see a lip tucked under his teeth. 

“Maybe I’m too—”

You see Eddie leaning forward as he stares at you, begging for your attention so you turn to him. His eyes soften and you can see his chest heave ever so slightly. 

“-busy being yours to fall for somebody new. Now, I’ve thought it through. Crawlin’ back to you.”

You go through the motions for the rest of the song. You keep eye contact with Eddie through all of it. 

Everything around you is forgotten as he looks into your eyes. You’ve missed him so much.

thank you so much for reading!! please please please give any feedback you may have! I want it all! also if you liked it please take a look at my masterlist or send me some motivation here!! reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated!

[uglypastels]

Hey can you do a coffee shop AU ab Gambit where the reader works at the shop Remy frequents? But one day there’s an attack and her mutation manifests?? Love your writing!

stick with me as I try to figure out how to write his accent lol. it's just a quick and fun lil thang but i hope you like it. [also, is this my first ever coffee shop au?? it might be. don't quote me on that tho]

warnings: slight cursing. supervillain attack.

~ X-Men Requests Open ~ Masterlist ~

‘Will that be the usual, Remy?’ You already pulled out the paper cup to write his name and order on it, looking up expectantly for him to confirm your suspicion.

‘You know it, chere.’ 

‘One cafe au lait, coming up.’ You chirped with a smile, noting it down on the side of the cup. Like the well-oiled machine the two of you have become over the past weeks, he didn’t need to hear the price and just slid a five-dollar bill across the counter and pushed another exact bill through the slit of the little tip jar next to the register.

‘Well, you know,’ and just like any other time, you couldn’t help but comment on his generosity, ‘you really don’t have to do all that. It’s just coffee.’ As much as you appreciated his gesture, a twinge of guilt struck you as he practically paid double for what already was an overpriced beverage.

‘It ain't for the coffee,’ he smirked, which, with a flash of heat, immediately radiated onto your cheeks. It all happened like clockwork, and so you reminded yourself that that’s just who he was.  You were sure he did it with anyone, so you mustn’t let it get to you. To not get too hung up over a customer who made it a habit throughout his day to flirt with his barista.

‘Here ya go,’ you presented him with the drink. 

‘I donno how you do it, belle,’ Remy said after his first sip, a satisfied expression spreading over his face. ‘Perfect. Evry time.’

‘Why, thank you.’ You reciprocated his smile, but really, it was no big deal. You were just doing your job—something that was only easier considering your talents. Practically being a human heat conductor made preparing a perfect cup o’ joe fairly simple. Still, when a charming Cajun walked into your establishment and showered you in compliments on a nearly daily basis, the effect might have been a bit stronger than a one-off comment from a stranger. No matter how hard you tried, it was impossible to deny his allure. 

For a Tuesday morning, the café was surprisingly clear of customers besides a couple of taken tables at the windows, where some early birds had begun their day by reading the paper or getting a headstart on their work. And so, with no line rushing him off behind him, Remy sipped his coffee right by your side. 

‘Say, don’t you have somewhere else to be, Rem?’ you teased as you wiped the counter.

‘With a beautiful lady righ in front of me, there ain't nowhere I rather be.’

‘Oh, shush, you.’ You tried to ignore it, but the steam coming off from the once wet handtowel you used to clean was saying differently. Both of you were about to open your mouths, the snarky banter already dripping from both your lips, but that all faltered as the ground beneath you shook. The soft ambience brought on by the instrumental music playing in the background over the speakers was overrun by the aggressive shaking of all the products and measuring jugs falling to the ground. But soon, even that was silenced by the screams that followed. A stampede of morning commuters was running through the street, eyes wide and pale with fear. 

‘What the–’ you muttered out, carefully making your way to the window. Perhaps not the smartest move, but the curiosity had gotten the better of you. And it sure had; as right as you had reached your lookout point, all your senses were thrown off guard by an explosion. The world around you turned upside down— or was that just you as you were thrown off your feet and across the room following a million pieces of shattered glass? 

You were ready to fall into the puddle of shards, but instead, you were met with the hold of two strong arms, and once you dared to open your eyes, you saw a pair of glowing red ones. 

‘You alright?’ Remy put you down on the ground. 

Still, in shock, all you could respond with was a nod. You watched as Remy made his way across the glass-covered floor, calling out to the fear-stricken people in the café. 

‘Is gonna be all right, everyone.’ He helped a lady get back up on her feet and make her way to the back of the room. ‘Stay inside. Get z’away from the street.’ And even though you wanted to listen to his command, you found yourself walking back towards him. 

‘What are you doing, cher?’ With his hand on your shoulder, he held you back from taking another step. 

‘I wanna help.’ It was clear enough to you that he was about to fight whatever it was that was scaring all those people outside, and there was no way in hell you’d let him go out there on his own. 

‘Do you even know what you’re up against?’ 

‘Do you?’ you hit back, and that response clearly pleased him. The worry on his lips turned up into a smirk. So, the barista had a spark to her. It didn’t surprise him, necessarily. If anything, the excitement from seeing this side of you sparked a rush through his whole body. 

Side by side, you ran out into the street, avoiding the last few incomers who were trying their best to escape whatever it was you were about to greet. And what that was, you soon found out. All you had to do was look up into the sky.

‘Le Bon Dieu.’ Remy cursed under his breath.

‘Damn.’ You gasped at the sight of what you could only describe to be a giant robot floating above the tall buildings. Eyes glowing with a fire that burst in jetstreams of destruction.

Perhaps you were way in over your head, getting into a fight with a steel giant, fighting with a nearly complete stranger, and yet, when you looked up at him, and your eyes met, you had a feeling that you’d be just fine.

the end.

thank you for reading 💗

if you enjoyed the fic, please consider reblogging and leaving a comment. or send a message via my inbox. requests are also more than welcome. 💗

[01zfan]

dragon teeth | l. sh

singer!sohee x bartender!reader | 13.8k words

sohee installment of my rock the house seriez. Dragon Teeth makes music that sounds like the album Welcome Interstate Managers by Fountains of Wayne and this fic is heavily inspired by the song Hackensack on that album! hope you guys enjoy!

contains: semi public sex (in a car in an empty parking lot late at night), protected sex, fwb, biting and mentions of cannibalism (NOT LITERALLY), unhappy ending

Sohee unfortunately always had a dream for his life that was bigger than himself. When he turned one and he had his doljabi ceremony he crawled right past the graduation cap, the piggy bank, and ruler to go straight for the microphone. His mom described the party going completely silent. In a room full of doctors and lawyers Sohee grabbed the plastic toy microphone and refused to let go. In the pictures from that day his parents had completely straight faces while holding a smiling Sohee that was gumming on the plastic head of the toy.

Sohees’ family thought he would grow out of his dreams of becoming a singer. They thought that as he grew older and he realized how tough the world truly was he would choose a job that kept a roof over his head and food on the table. He swore that was the reason why his parents moved to a place that was simultaneously in the middle of nowhere but so close to the big city. Sohee believed that they thought that the mundane suburbs and the frigid winters would take away his voice. But he taught himself to tune the instrument in his throat and project his voice through the falling snow and sing through the cold that bit the back of his throat. Sohee did well in school despite not caring for anything outside of singing. He did it as a sign of respect to his parents and to show them that he was fully capable of excelling academically, he just didn’t want to do it. 

When he learned to drive sophomore year of highschool, the first thing Sohee did was get a job at a record store. The record store was at the midpoint between his house and the city. He worked there during the weekends, sitting at the cash register as he did his homework and watched the people coming in and out. The record store was where he met the two other members of his band. Seunghan was the only regular that never bought anything, he only constantly browsed and examined the same records Sohee had in his home. Sohee eventually started a conversation with him, sharing a rhetorical finally made a choice? when Seunghan bought his first vinyl. After playful banter they hit it off, and then a week later came Wonbin.

Wonbin was the one who technically started the band. He came into the record store asking if he could put up a flyer. LOOKING FOR VOCALIST AND BASS GUITAR was typed in the most punk-esque font available with Wonbin’s number as a detachable tab at the bottom. Sohee told Wonbin he knew a guy and the rest was history. The three of them discovered together that they had had an affinity for music and plans beyond their boring hometown (except Wonbin, because he was actually born and raised in the city).

By the time sophomore year was coming to an end Sohee, Wonbin, and Seunghan had a band and they would meet after Sohee’s shifts to practice. 

Being in such a close proximity to music made Sohee believe that he was working towards his goal of becoming a musician. But when his lemon broke down on the freeway and his parents refused to go out of their way to take him to work Sohee was forced to quit. 

He no longer had a job and nothing to remind him what he was working towards. the first weekend he spent at the family dinner table was shrouded in a tense silence. Sohee stared at his plate of jjambbong, wishing that he lived in a place where there were more options than hot stew to try and beat the cold. Despite his inner turmoil, Sohee’s families dishware hit their bowls all the same, dinner did not stop for his pity party. The only acknowledgement Sohee got of his struggle was his Dad clearing his throat from the spice before looking to his son.

“If you’re looking for a job, the new guy stopped showing up a week ago.” Sohee’s dad took another sip of his soup while Sohee clutched his hand tighter around his spoon. “His job needs to be filled.” He said.

Despite having being extremely weak, only weighing 140 pounds when soaking wet with shoes on, and being a blue collar workers worse nightmare, Sohee thought he had the upper hand in the situation. He never once thought for a second his Father was offering him a stable job out of pity. Sohee only ignored the offer, telling himself I’ll take my talents somewhere else. That night he rang Seunghan and Wonbin on his Nokia 7650 and told them they have to get serious about the band. At the top of Sohee’s mental list was making a demo, then right under that was finding an agent and selling a million records then selling out shows. When Wonbin yelled into the receiver With what money? Sohee added getting gigs to the top of the list.

That’s what led Sohee to the stage. Except the stage wasn’t a sold out show at Madison Square Garden, it wasn’t the Apollo Theater or Radio City Music Hall, it wasn’t even the standing room at Irving Plaza. Sohee, Seunghan, and Wonbin were on the small wooden stage performing to the usual Friday night crowd at his local dive bar. 

The three yellow lights that shined on him and his bandmates were blinding. In the beginning when they didn’t know what to do about the lights and they were still nervous about performing in front of others, Wonbin and Seunghan would be so blinded by the light that they would play the wrong notes. They eventually learned to play with their eyes closed, or to move around the stage so the lights beamed on their shoulders instead of their eyes. Sohee however refused to back down to the light, he learned that he had to point his eyes downward and furrow his brows to alleviate the brightness. 

The view of the men in their business suits wasn’t much better than the light blinding him. The way they sat in their leaning bar stools with backs facing the band was almost abysmal. The trio still fought hard for the attention of grown men who couldn’t care less, even if there was less than five feet of space separating them from the wooden stage they performed on. They sang songs to try and get the most amount of tips. Pop was last week, which only earned chump change and boos from the contractors with dirty and rough hands. The week before that was RnB, which only a few seemed to enjoy. What always earned the band the most money was performing sad dreary songs that matched the mood of the bar. Sohee sang the lyrics to an old sad rock song while looking at the exposed asscracks of the swaying drunk men in front of him. 

God this was depressing. 

Sohee didn’t know why he always found himself at this dingy bar. There were plenty of other bars in his hometown, ones filled with young adults that wanted to have a good time instead of middle aged men that hated their lives and were stingy with their pocket change. Sohee’s bandmates knew it too. Each week Wonbin would groan and Seunghan would roll his eyes before saying that place, again? All three of them knew that they’d be better off trying to raise funds for studio time by working for Sohee’s dad. But the hours were even worse than this and they had no skill or the means to do good when it came to manual labor. 

“What other choice do we have?” Sohee would always reason.

(They had plenty of other choices; all three of them knew it.)

But Sohee ignored the shortcomings of the bar for the most part. He told himself there was some sort of midwest-on-the-east-coast charm that no other place had. Because of his hometowns proximity to the big city there was always a sort of disingenuous aura that circled many places the younger crowd frequented. Bars wanted to be like the city without being in the city, and it always seemed pitiful. Also the chance of running into someone they graduated with made all three of them feel physically ill. The important thing was that Dragon Teeth prided itself on being authentic, and there was nothing more authentic than the dive bar off the highway in a rural town that smelled like smoke and served the working class. 

Sohee always told himself he’d miss the bar when he eventually made it big. Maybe he’d reference it in a song or talk about it on a podcast in twenty years or mention it in his autobiography. He’d talk about the perpetually broken jukebox that only played Neon Moon by Brooks & Dunn, the squeaky seats that all leaned to the side, and the pretty bartender that he sang songs for.

You and Sohee came up side by side throughout public school. In a small town, you ended up going to school with the same people your whole life. the people you sat by in kindergarten you would end up seeing at your graduation, with both parties pretending like they didn’t grow up parallel to eachother. So Sohee knew of you, but he didn’t necessarily know you. He knew the basics, like your anime phase in fifth grade, and the indie rock band phase in seventh grade. He knew that you went through a terrible breakup your freshman year, but not as bad as the falling out with your friend group junior year. Sohee knew that you took messy notes but had tidy handwriting and you always had your phone within arms reach.

Sohee told himself he would finally speak to you senior year when you were assigned to the same table first period, because who the hell gives seating assignments to seniors? the proximity he had to you was nothing less than fate. 

Sohee remembered showing up to class early the next day waiting for you to come through the door. He shifted in his plastic red seat a million times expecting to see you trudge through the open door. But when the bell rang and the teacher started doing role call to a half empty classroom Sohee suddenly realized that no senior who had a car would come to a meaningless first period class.

Because of your absence permanent absence in class, Sohee only saw you in passing—another benefit about going to a small public school—until graduation. But there was no way he was going to talk to you and stop the flow of traffic in the double space hallway. What he wanted with you either had to be through a painfully awkward interaction in class that would be interrupted by the teacher or nothing at all. So he let bygones be bygones, he let you pass by him on your way to the classes you actually attended and before he knew it, he had graduated. Sohee saw you with your family for the first time, and he found out through a senior ceremony that you had the same plan he did after graduation—absolutely nothing.

But unlike you, Sohee told himself that he was keeping his big plans a secret. Only him and the other members of Dragon Teeth knew that they planned on becoming a famous indie band that was going to sell out arenas and sell a bajillion records. The only thing that was stopping them was their lack of a demo tape, a record label, and an actual band name (Dragon Teeth was just a stand in, but Sohee was working hard to change the minds of Seunghan and Wonbin). 

Sohee ended up at the dive bar because his band needed the extra funds. Just when the temperature started dropping and the reality of studio cost time started setting in, they remembered that they needed money to run a band.

In the beginning they performed at any bar that would take them. The trio would play whatever songs to get the most amount of money, even if it came at the cost of their musicality. They sacrificed being seen as serious musicians to take song requests, no matter how ridiculous. They jumped from place to place, collectively agreeing that they were becoming skeeved out from the band they were becoming. 

The three of them would’ve never thought that they’d find authenticity at the rundown dive bar off the highway. Initially the three of them thought the place was abandoned. No signage on the bar indicated sign of life other than the flashing WE’RE OPEN sign. 

“Can’t be worse than The Goalpost.” Wonbin said hopefully.

Sohee and Seunghan nodded while leaving Wonbin’s car. They had a plethora of terrible experience at The Goalpost. The three of them frequented the bar due to the amount of tips they would receive, but it always came with a price. There was a time when a girl threw up in Wonbin’s guitar case right as they were done for the night and there were several instances of drunk college students stealing Sohee’s microphone acting like it was karaoke night. The most recent event—and the one that drove them away from The Goalpost entirely—was the random bar fight  over two rival colleges that ended with the police being called and Seunghan getting punched in the face. They silently recalled suddenly being caught in the middle of people screaming while they sang We Are The Champions. Sohee remembered pressing a piece of raw meat to Seunghan’s face thinking it would cure his incoming black eye as they got closer and closer to the bar. The rotting wood of the steps slightly gave underneath their feet, the only thing that willed them forward was remembering the bar owner of The Goalpost trying to take a portion of their earnings.

“Can’t be worse than The Goalpost.” Seunghan echoed.

Wonbin nodded and reached forward towards the door. Immediately when he applied pressure to the rusty handle of the door it leaned so far forward it almost broke off it’s hinges. Wonbin yelped and pulled even harder on instinct, forcing Sohee and Seunghan to quickly press their hands to the chipping wood to keep it anchored to the wall. For a moment the three of them were caught in limbo, with Wonbin pulling on the door while Sohee and Seunghan pushed.

“Just let it lean!” An annoyed voice yelled from inside the bar.

When quiet laughter followed and they realized they made fools of themselves, the three of them took their hands timidly away from the door. They flinched in unison when it started leaning further and further to the ground, but it came to a slow creaking stop with just enough space for the three of them to slink through. The three of them inched past the door, all of them terrified the door was going to give in and close on them.

From outside, it was easy to tell that the bar wasn’t very well lit. Besides the flickering WE’RE OPEN sign and a dim blue light that could be seen through the window there was nothing that could be seen from the outside. But being inside the bar was significantly worse. Anything past his mid-calf was swallowed by darkness. The only indication that they were even stepping on the ground was the slight stick underneath the soles of his shoes. The primary lighting was from the purple and blue hues of the jukebox and the illumination from the ancient tiny television that seemed to be on a permanent rerun of sports. There was a communal remote for the television, sitting atop the bar in front of the limited and extremely vintage six dispenser tap machine (there were plastic bags covering the two taps in the middle, so it was really four). 

Even in the dark, everything looked like it creaked or was sticky or both. There was no stage, there were barely people occupying the barstools and chairs. Patrons were coming and going, all of them passed Sohee and his two confused bandmates as they gravitated towards their seats. Everyone seemed to know where they were going, drifting towards their unofficial assigned seats as they looked towards the television.  They seemed alarmingly content in the stuffy atmosphere of the bar. No one paid attention to the band outside of their run-in with the door. As if nothing happened everyone went back to nursing their beers and sitting around in complete silence.

“This is actually much worse than The Goalpost.” Wonbin said outloud. No one turned in their seats, Sohee swears he even heard someone make a sound of agreement.

“Lucky’s is going to open soon,” Sohee started turning towards the still open door. “if we hurry we might be able to perform there for the night.” He said.

Seunghan and Wonbin nodded, casting one more glance at the dark bar before turning following behind their leader. 

Sohee was so close to escaping. Later that week Sohee would be told by Anton that Lucky’s was packed and there was a large party of people looking for a band to play Taylor Swift. Anton told Sohee that they were throwing money around like it was a strip club while they did karaoke on their open tabs. That night at Lucky’s would’ve bought them studio time three times over, but right as they were about to push through the leaning door you came from the cramped back of house with beer glasses in your hands.

“Is that Lee Sohee?” You said.

Sohee turned around slowly, seeing that his bandmates were already frozen. Sohee was the last of his band to see you in the flesh, standing behind the bar looking at him. You set the beer glasses on the wooden bar in front of you, and for the first time that night he had the attention of everyone in the bar. He was a deer caught in the headlights and you were behind the car, mouth agape before turning into a smile.

“What brings you here?” You continued.

Like a spotlight had shined directly on him, Sohee was at a loss for words. Everyone in the bar still had their eyes on him, even Wonbin and Seunghan turned to look at him. He was blessed that in the darkness of the bar no one could see the red on the tip of his nose or his ears. All anyone saw was Sohee sheepishly look towards his two bandmates before clearing his throat.

“We perform at bars—”

“Our jukebox literally broke last night!” Sohee watched you put your hands on the bar and lean forward towards him. For a moment he’s taken back to first period, how he missed having you beside him all year. “And here you three are the next day—almost like it’s fate.” You said smiling.

You said it’s fate—how could Sohee possibly go anywhere else? 

His bands permanent residence started that night. The Goalpost and Lucky’s didn’t stand a chance when he saw your eyes light up. When you nodded quickly after Sohee offered to add ambience to the bar—despite Wonbin and Seunghans’ clear faces of shock—he knew they would be spending as much time as they could there.

Sohee went from barely seeing you to having you partially at his disposal seven nights a week. He never brought up that he knew so much about you, but he was on the receiving end of your care. Sohee watched you offer free drinks for a year to whoever built a stage for his band to perform on. Within the week the wooden stage was erected and even had enough room and spacing to account for the instruments and cords on the rare occasion Wonbin brought out his electric guitar. 

Sohee wondered if you were keeping your big life plans a secret like he was. One night when it wasn’t busy and you didn’t have to run around to tend to your customers, he leaned over the bar one night and got extra close to you to feign closeness and privacy when he asked you about your plans. You truly seemed taken aback by his question, only giving him a shrug as you pulled on the Brotherton IPA tap. 

”I’m not too sure.” You said while avoiding eye contact. “I haven’t thought about it too much.”

In the awkward silence Sohee realized the rest of his conversation was contingent on your answer. He was grasping at nothing, the moment to talk to you was fleeting as the beer glass was almost filled to the top.

“My band is going to do really well.” He spoke quickly trying to fill in the gap. When you looked up at him from the tap he only doubled down. “We are gonna sell a bunch of records and sell out shows.” Sohee said.

“Oh really?” You asked with amusement. 

Sohee averted his eyes down to the beer glass as you pushed the creaky tap back up to it’s original position. He felt a strong sense of pride having your full attention, you only gave the person who ordered the beer a simple head nod as you stayed focused on him. 

Maybe he was partially at fault for your non-answers. He didn’t know whether to believe your lack of plans or not, but he never had the chance to ask you what you were saving all your money for because he had the tendency to ramble off about his band in your presence. It was especially hard to find the time to pry about your personal life when he only got the chance to see you alone in the confines of your car before proceeding to do what you always did on nights you worked and he sang for you.

Nights when you would close the bar and Sohee would perform—which was almost every night—had almost become a routine. After you gave Sohee the signal for last call his band would perform one final song. After Seunghan or Wonbin thwarted Sohee’s attempt to say the band’s name (tonight it was Wonbin. He cleared his throat obnoxiously into the microphone so feedback was over Sohee saying This was Dragon Teeth) the band would pack up their things and get ready to go. The band would work around the microphone stands and the wires onstage to pack up their instruments while the stragglers left the bar. Occasionally they would get more tips on their way out. Crumpled dollar bills would find their way into Wonbin’s guitar case or placed on Sohee’s hands by sweaty palms. Sohee would replay the gruff keep up the good work kid as he handed the tip money to Wonbin for safe keeping. Only after you turned the lights on would the final person sway out of the bar and bid his drunk final regards. 

Each time the regular lights went up Sohee would have to squint his eyes in an effort to adjust. He’d always be shocked about how abysmal the place looked when everything lit up. The dark brown finish of the bar had countless scratches and water stains from people who didn’t use coasters, the tables were all different colors and uneven on one side at the very least, and every single piece of wall decoration had a yellow tint from age. You were the only redeeming thing in the place and Sohee more often than not found himself looking at you instead of packing his things up. By the time his bandmates were leaving the bar he was only halfway done, instead focused on watching you wipe off the bar counter and tabletops. When Seunghan and Wonbin were making their way to the exit, Sohee was watching your focused face count the tills.

“Sohee.” 

He was never sure if it was Wonbin or Seunghan calling his name, he would just look to them with their instrument cases in hands and defeated looks on their faces as they flicked their heads through the door.

“You coming or what?” Seunghan asked.

All the way to the car, Sohee would act like he would be joining them. But when they made it to Wonbin’s beat up 2000 Honda Accord, Sohee would always have an excuse lined up. Sohee would look his friends dead in the face and lie saying I forgot my mic pack, She’s going to give us our tips,or I forgot to ask her if we are good for tomorrow. Anything to avoid telling his bandmates She’s going to give me a ride home because we have sex in her car every night, remember? 

Without fail, Wonbin and Seunghan would only shrug before loading up in the silver car and heading home. Sohee didn’t know if they thought there was something going on and even if it never got in the way of the bands activities he still felt guilty for it. He was the de facto leader of Dragon Teeth due to him being the main vocalist and the one who was essentially in charge of getting the gigs. Sohee often wondered while waiting for you to finish closing if he would be kicked out of the band in the instance Wonbin and Seunghan found out about you two. They had no reason to give Sohee the boot, but when Sohee felt extra guilty he would always help them load their things into Wonbin’s trunk and make plans for the band the next day.

“Let’s meet at Wonbin’s house around noon and finish writing that song.” Sohee said after slamming the trunk closed.

“I work at the cafe tomorrow.” Wonbin rubbed his eyes with both of his hands before finishing the rest of his sentence. “Not off ‘till one.” He said.

Seunghan was already in the passenger seat leaning it back to take a nap. Sohee nodded before changing the plans to start at three, earning a tired yes from his bandmates. Wonbin got up from leaning against the side of his car car to go inside. The old thing came to life right next to Sohee and he acted like he was considering getting inside. Sohee felt his heart begin to race in its cage, as he watched Wonbin roll down the window and raise his eyebrows at him.

“What are you doing?” Wonbin asked.

His bandmates voice was already deep from exhaustion and annoyance. Sohee knew better than to push his buttons so he gave up the theatrics quickly. He ignored the hammering in his chest to lean down o eye level with Wonbin as his fingers anxiously tapped on the window. He saw that Seunghan’s head was already lulled to the side as he snored loudly.

“I’m gonna stay behind. She closed later than usual so i’m a li—”

“Alright.” Wonbin interrupted Sohee before he could give a half-assed reason why. “Text me when you get home.” He said.

Before Sohee could even reply, he watched Wonbin’s window back up as he was looked behind him to back out of the parking space. Sohee backed away from the car waved goodbye before Wonbin turned out of the parking lot and left completely.

When Wonbin’s taillights were out of sight, Sohee was completely still for a moment. He looked at your lonely car in its secluded parking space then back to the bar. There was fleeting thought in his mind that he should’ve gone home with his bandmates. But he was shamefully uninterested in sitting in silence with Wonbin and Seunghan when he could be sitting in silence with you. So Sohee kicked the rocks underneath his feet and stuffed his already cold hands into the pockets of his hoodie as he started carefully calculating how long it would take you to finish closing the bar.

Sohee eventually meandered underneath the only functioning lamp post in the basically empty parking lot. He knew that after the sun went down the temperature was going to drop, but it seemed to be getting even colder as he stood outside. He prayed for some sort of warmth underneath the flickering light in the parking lot. His jacket pockets provided little to no relief, and the quick vaporized puffs of air did nothing to warm his body. He tried jumped up and down and moving in place, but any warmth brought to his limbs vanished almost instantly. He looked around to the staff exit before cutting his eyes to the three other lamp posts that had burnt out bulbs and offered no illumination in the dead of night. Sohee walked around the concrete base of the singular working lamp post, he wrapped his hand around the cold metal circumference of the lamppost and spun in a circle like a child. He kicked tiny rocks and checked the time on his tiny phone screen—How long did it take to close down a bar anyway?

When the lamp post he stood under started flickering, Sohee felt himself finally start to get nervous. He thought about the odds of being mugged in this dimly lit parking lot. The chances were slim, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen. Maybe a drunk and disorderly businessman was lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect opportunity to attack. Maybe there was someone sketchy coming off the highway looking for the perfect victim. Sohee looked around suspiciously, waiting for a culprit to pop out from behind a tree trunk or come out from underneath your car. A shiver ran through his body before he pulled his hoodie up over his head, trying to make himself seem bulkier and scarier than he actually was. Sohee took his hands from his pockets to check his phone again.

After he saw only a minute had passed he stuffed his phone back into his pocket and blew warm air into his hands again. When the lamp post flickered again he looked up, praying silently it wouldn’t go out leaving him in complete darkness. Sohee’s eyes also focused on the bugs circling the light and he wondered if the insects were thinking the same thing. They circled the light like it was a life source, a phenomenon that was a scientific mystery—Did they think the light was leading them the way? Were they following the warmth? Were they blinded? Were they looking for an escape?

“Am I a bug?” Sohee wondered out loud.

“What?” 

Sohee turned around at the sound of your voice. Of course he missed you coming out and didn’t hear your feet dragging on the pavement and of course he embarrassed himself in front of you.

“What did you just say?” You repeated. 

When you were in front of Sohee, he noticed that your eyes didn’t tilt upwards to pay attention to the flickering lightbulb. He figured you were used to things breaking and not working so much to the point that it didn’t even register you two were about to be left in complete darkness. You only continued looking at him, with your hip cocked to the side and your head tilted the same way. For the first time in his life, Sohee wished that the lightbulb would suddenly go out. Something about being in complete darkness in the cold was more comforting than being underneath your scrutinizing stare. But was it really scrutiny if you seemed so happy to see him? You looked at him with wonder, but Sohee still felt intimidated as he started rubbing his suddenly not-so-cold hands together. The lamp post seemed to be intimidated too, because the light that was going to burn out any second started shining steadily, maybe even brighter than before. A shiver ran through Sohee’s body as your face was fully lit for him and he remembered he was cold. You did a once over of him, staying on the pulled drawstrings of his hoodie.

“Nothing.” Sohee shook his head when he remembered he was supposed to answer your question. “Just thinking out loud.” He said.

Sohee was able to see your head cocked to the side in confusion only for a moment longer before you walked past him towards your car. He followed after you, looking down at your work crocs that dragged on the paved parking lot and kicked up rocks. He was surprised he didn’t hear you trudge towards him. The work day seemed to weigh down heavily on your entirely body. He watched your shoulders sag as he went to the passenger side and when he looked at you over the top of the car he could see the shadow of forming eye bags. You ruffled in your purse, moving around things that didn’t need to be in there in search of your keys. If it was any of Sohee’s friends, he would’ve started impatiently pulling at the handle in annoyance and complaining about waiting in the cold. But with you he only bounced on his feet to try and stay warm and looked at you.

He didn’t complain nearly as much as he should’ve while around you. The worst part was that he knew had plenty to complain about. 

Both of you got into the car at the same time. You closed your door first and manually put the lock down. Sohee closed his door afterwards and pressed the automatic button on the door. He shuffled in his seat, trying to become comfortable and force his body to warm up as he rubbed his hands together. while you sorted out your things, Sohee stole glances at you trying not to make his looks obvious. Anytime your head would even tilt towards his general direction he would blow hot air into his hands, trying to cover up what he was really doing. 

Sohee watched you put your water bottle in the cupholder before moving your bag towards the feet space of the passenger side. The two of you had done this enough that you made a routine, you didn’t have to tell Sohee excuse me anymore. He knew that your bag wasn’t going in the backseat because it would be occupied soon, and that your bags temporary residency was the space beside his feet. He moved his feet more than he had to without saying a word, and you slipped your purse in space he made for you.

“Thanks.” You said.

Sohee hummed while turning on the light in the front center of your car. The yellow glow filled the space of your dads old 2003 Forester. You often said it was the best thing he’s done for you as a father, arguably the only thing. The car was a shade of deep green except for the gray scrape in its side from when your Mom got in a fight with a shopping cart and lost, but it ran well and had an insane amount of space in the back row of seats. You seemed to like it too, despite it being completely different from the cars girls your age drove. You often referred to the car as your baby and didn’t take kindly to messes. Sohee (as far as he knew—he didn’t know how many men you drove around and he didn’t want to know) was the only person, besides you, that was allowed to eat and drink inside of the vehicle. 

Sohee was also the only person (once again, he hoped) you let fuck you in the backseat. 

He could already see it in your eyes, no longer low from sleep but something arguably far more tiring. From the overhead light Sohee could already see the shine on the glassy surface of your eye. They did quick looks of his whole body, darting from his neck to his hands that were clasped tightly together. 

Even if Sohee felt the same excitement that was written clearly on your entire person, he still leaned against the passenger side door when you put your elbows on the center console to come closer to him. Anytime you rocked slightly closer Sohee felt excitement and panic shoot up his spine at the same time, causing his hair to stand on end.

This was the part of the routine when Sohee would look shyly away from you and fail to hide his smile. An exhale from you would fill the air of your car and then stillness would overtake it. He imagined in this moment you let your tiring day that you compartmentalized come to the surface just so you could kiss and fuck it away. After that, Sohee would still be looking down where his seat and the center console met while he listened to you move around in your thick jacket to compensate for the sudden heat that came across your body. Sohee would wonder to himself what was in the crack of his seat and the center console, wondering if the plastic Casio watch he stole from his sister was still somewhere deep in there. Sometimes he swore he could hear the short beep from a new hour when your car was too silent. Maybe he was imagining things, because you never reacted to the sound. 

When your hand reached across the center console of your car Sohee had to silently remind himself why he hated this town and his life so much. He drew in a deep breath when you pinched at the sleeve of his thin hoodie in a shy and silent command for him to come closer to you.

This town is nothing.

Sohee turned in the passenger seat and planted his hands on the center console. You turned fully in your seat, pressing against your steering wheel to avoid honking the horn.

It’s so disconnected from the arts.

You both slowly started leaning forward. Sohee could feel you hold the fabric of his hoodie a little tighter. Your fingers pressed into his wrist as you lightly pulled him towards you. 

There’s nothing to do here.

Sohee could see his shadow casted on your face as you two invaded eachothers space more and more. He could see the overhead light of your car swimming in your eyes. He imagined how you two looked from the outside, one of the two sources of light in this parking lot. He wondered if anyone off the highway could see you two, if they wondered what was going on inside of a car at this time of night. Sohee’s hand went from the center console to hold your face. You leaned into his palm as your other hand gripped his shoulder.

I hate it here.

Sohee watched you lick your lips and part them slightly. He did the same and waited for impact like you were an asteroid falling from the sky. Sohee was a Quetzalcoatlus, flying freely in the sky not knowing that he was about to die. 

He heard the deep muffled beep in the back of his mind before he opened his partially closed eyes. Sohee suddenly felt the urge to remind himself what he was doing this all for as he pulled away from you slightly.

“How’d I sing today?” Sohee asked.

His attempt to calm the racing thoughts in his mind pulled you from the moment. Sohee felt sick relief at your rapid blinking as you tried registering his question. Seeing the gears turn in your mind gave Sohee enough time to think clearly and stop his heart from jumping out of its cage. His eyes snapped to the dimly lit backseat of your car as you licked your lips again.

“You did amazing.” Your voice was somehow already hoarse as you reached forward and gently pulled at the top of his zipper. “You know you’re my favorite singer.” You said.

This town isn’t all that bad. The winters were manageable and heavy snow storms are one of the few wonders left in the world. There are decent shopping malls and a brewery that has a good scene. There was a cute two bedroom apartment that was also only an hour from Midtown Manhattan, and an hour and fifteen minutes away from the cheapest recording studio in New York (which was upstate in the opposite direction, but that’s besides the point). 

You looked to Sohee’s face one last time before fully focusing on his hoodie. Sohee looked down to your hands that were barely peaking past the sleeve of your oversized jacket as you slowly started unzipping him.

This small town was a hidden gem in America. They sometimes filmed Hallmark movies here. Maybe if I talked to the right people I could land a job making the soundtrack, or at the very least help the person who makes it.

You pulled Sohee’s zipper half way down before you started reaching for your own jacket. The sound of multiple buttons unclasping at once made Sohee realize he had a job to do. He  started working himself out of his own jacket, a rushed hand pulling his zipper down the rest of the way. You were somehow faster, your jacket was off your arms and behind your body by the time Sohee finally took his hoodie off. He was fumbling with his brown leather belt as smiled and kissed his forehead before clearing the center console to head to the backseat.

He couldn’t get the belt off of him no matter how hard he tried. He swore something was holding his belt together, like a tiny invisible elf was holding on the metal that was in the first hole of his held. Sohee always fumbled in moments like these, when he needed his hands the most they seemed to fail him. For a moment he was transported to an embarrassing moment at his sixth grade talent show where he fumbled while trying to play the piano. When he heard the sound of your pants being pulled off your body he got even more impatient. After letting out a deep breath he went to his shirt quickly, pulling his graphic tee off with one hand and throwing it into the drivers seat. His hands went back to the belt after, and the sound of the buckle finally coming loose filled the car with a clanking metal sound.

“Sohee.” He looked behind him to see you reach forward to put your bra in the drivers seat on top of the Star Wars logo printed to his shirt. “Please hurry.” You whined. 

Sohee had his jeans at his ankles in seconds. He pulled his legs out the same time he was clambering over the center console to follow you. When he was situated on the side opposite of you he regained some of his composure back. He patiently pulled his leg out the rest of the way and tossed his jeans diagonally to lay on top of your bra. He reacted to the sound of his belt buckle knocking your window but you did not. Your eyebrow only twitched slightly as you leaned back against the window, and Sohee’s attention was pulled to you entirely. He looked at your perked nipples poke through the material of your tight shirt and the way it rode up to reveal the tiny bow at the top of your panties.

Sohee settled into the door on the opposite side from you. He developed the habit of following your every move, leading to tension that was so thick you could cut it with a knife. He was unmoving, like you were going to pounce any second and you would pinch the fabric of the clothes you still wore. Sohee wondered if it was a nervous habit of yours, if you weren’t always sure he actually wanted you and you were playing with the hem of your tight shirt to distract yourself from your thoughts. Admittedly moments of silence like this when before you two would fuck in your car was entirely too intimate for casual fuck buddies. When you stared at Sohee and he stared back he got the insane urge to tell you that he knows you, and that he wanted to ell you if you ever bothered to come to your first period class senior year. 

(He also wanted to tell you that lately he started hearing you voice in every song about love and every romance movie. He actually had to do a double take when watching Romance & Cigarettes in Wonbin’s apartment because for a split second he thought you were an extra beside Christopher Walken on the busy streets of Queens, New York. He also swore he heard your voice as one of the little sea turtles when he saw Finding Nemo in theaters with his sisters. This was surprisingly harder to disprove because he couldn’t see your face.

He also wanted to tell you that he would spend an eternity just staring at you underneath the dim light of your car before kissing you in the dead of winter, even if it came at the cost of his career. But Sohee knew somethings, especially that thing was better left unsaid. You would unfortunately just have to suffer through short moments of insecurity so Sohee could keep his sanity. 

Yes, he knew it was selfish, but what rockstar isn’t?)

The overhead light made you look like a dream in front of Sohee, and he hated the shadows in the car for obstructing his vision. When you moved in your nipples poking through your shirt turned to shadows, and he could barely see the way your thighs pressed together. He wanted to see you clearly, he wanted to touch you so badly that he had to remind himself of the other things he wanted in his life.

You started scooting towards Sohee’s side of the car and he had to remind himself he wouldn’t be here in a years time. When you placed your hand on his thigh opposite of your body he told himself that he wanted a Grammy. When you started rubbing the soft skin of his inner thigh everything else left his mind, his mental vision board slipped through his fingers like sand.

You kissed his bare shoulders once and Sohee sighed to lean his head against the back row of seats. He lifted the arm that was in between your two bodies and wrapped it around your shoulder to pull you closer to him. You burrowed deeper into Sohee’s side as your lips travelled from his shoulder to his cheek neck. For a moment you stayed there, your lips found its home where his neck and shoulders met. Sohee felt your hot breath fan the area before your lips poked past your cheek and wet the area. Sohee panic response was fully alert, he bent his neck to the side as a reflex when he felt your teeth press into his skin. With a laugh you showed him mercy, and started trailing your lips up the side of his neck. He puckered his lips and kissed the air the same time you would kiss his bare skin. He already seemed lost, he had to close his eyes to remember who he wanted to become. Focusing on anything but you was embarrassing but it was something Sohee had to do to keep the noises he wanted to make at bay. 

His other hand went to your thigh as he tried maneuvering you to come on top of him. You ignored his obvious advances—to ironically distract himself from you with your body—instead moving your hand painfully slow to rest on top of the bulge in his boxers. You let your hand settle deeper on Sohee’s clothed dick, and like a reflex Sohee’s hand on your shoulder tightened its grip.

“Holy shit.” He breathed.

Usually when you two would mess around in your car after your shift, it was one or the other. Either Sohee would get a handjob that was embarrassingly wet and almost humiliating while you were completely clothed and he was completely naked, or you would ride him while you kept only your shirt on and let the seat back so Sohee could pathetically look up at you. So when you stayed in your shirt, and the backseat of your car stayed upright, Sohee foolishly thought he was only going to feel your walls clamp around him tonight. But he felt your hand tighten its grip around the clothed tip of his dick before you worked through the fly of his boxers. Sohee’s hand that cradled your face twitched and his lips faltered when he felt your hand around his dick.

“What are you doing?” He whimpered and bucked his hips just from your hand wrapping around the base of his dick.

Your eyes were already wet a blown out from want when you started slowly jerking him off. Sohee regretfully kept his eyes on you, waiting for an answer as to why you were torturing him. The routine you two made was important, but you were abandoning it just to revel in his pathetic whines and twitching hips. Sohee moved his gaze down to your glossy bottom lip that smirked before being caught between your teeth.

“Feeling sentimental.” You squeezed your hand around his tip and Sohee shook his head from the torture that hurt so good. “You mind if we have a little more fun than usual tonight?” You asked breathlessly

Fun. You had the habit of calling whatever this was in the backseat of your car fun. You confused him the first time you said it to him. He sat in the passenger seat while you eyed him up and down, you were alot more obvious with your attraction than you were now. You brought him in close before asking Do you want to have some fun, you were alot bolder than too. But Sohee gave you grace, he figured saying fun was the perfect middle ground between the casual hookup and the intimacy he (hoped) you reserved only for eachother. But having fun to Sohee was writing music and singing. Having fun was imagining the future and thinking about the track list for his bands debut album. Watching your hand jump underneath the fabric of his boxers was anything but fun. Watching your chest move in your tight shirt and feeling your lips press hasty kisses to his face wasn’t fun. 

He believed this was attempted murder and you were going to kill him.

“What’s wrong?” Your hold on his dick loosened and against his will, once again, Sohee whined and rutted into your hand. “I thought you liked it when I did this.” You said.

You held your head up from resting against Sohee’s shoulder to look him in the eyes. They were large and filled with worry, and Sohee felt his dick jump in his boxers and his heart lurch forward.

He really needs to start keeping track of how many times you tried to kill him.

“No baby, I like it alot.” Honestly Sohee liked it too much—he believed he could get off from you just squeezing the root of his dick and whining in his ear and looking at him. His hips lifted on their own accord again and Sohee had to lean back against the seat to focus on breathing. “Keep going, it feels so good.” He begged.

Sohee drove his point home by reaching his hand that wasn’t holding onto your shoulder for dear life to press into your clothed heat. Instantly he felt your hips preen towards him, so abruptly that you scooted down the seat. You faltered between your kisses to let out a shaky sigh, and Sohee had to open his eyes to stare at the ceiling of your car. He pressed deeper to draw more sound out of you, and you squeezed your hand around his dick to make him squirm more. 

Eventually the teasing became too much and you gave up trying to kiss all together. You just settled further into Sohee’s side as your hands became more rushed. Sohee’s head lulled against your backseat while you seeped through the thin material of your panties. The deeper and deeper his fingers pressed into you the higher your voice and sounds became. When Sohee finally brought the hand that was gripping your shoulders down to your waist to pull your panties to the side. He wasted to time sticking his fingers into your cunt, but hearing your sudden desperate sounds made Sohee’s fingers became erratic. He was being pulled thinner and you jumbled his brain to such an effect that he couldn’t decide between scissoring his fingers inside of you or trying to hit a spot particularly deep. He started doing both in a foggy lust-filled panic, but even when he thought you were on the verge of stopping him and kicking him out of your car he started feeling your drool leak to his bare chest.

“Oh my God.” You mumbled.

Sohee looked down to see your eyes were squeezed shut. Feeling your hips push into his hand was one thing, but seeing it with his own two eyes was an entirely different beast. You were chasing after something Sohee was giving to you when he wasn’t entirely sure himself what he was doing. He only watched you, hoping to etch the scene into his mind forever. Your walls clenched around his fingers, and Sohee felt more precum leak from his tip onto your already sticky hand.

“Oh my God.” He echoed.

He was convinced you were going to kill him. You were going to kill his dreams and aspirations of making it in New York. Sohee was going to end up becoming the manager at the record store he used to work, or end up working for his father. Sohee would end up disbanding Dragon Teeth and using his portion of the earnings for a deposit on an apartment with you. You were going to take away his voice, the naive glint in his eye, and the God complex the same way his Father did to his Mother. 

“I’m close, Sohee. So close.” You started speeding up your hand and Sohee’s own sounds started slipping past his lips. It was almost disgusting hearing the pathetic sounds bounce off the walls of your Dad’s old car. “Are you?” You asked pitifully.

Instead of answering, Sohee used the last of his crumbling strength to bring his hand that was still holding your panties to the side underneath your chin. He lifted your gaze, and the yellow light of your car bathed your face in a warm glow. The light reflected off of your clammy skin as you looked to him with so much want and desperation. For a moment Sohees’ impeding orgasm was banished to the outer realm of his mind as he took in your furrowed eyebrows and glassy eyes.

Arguably it was more disturbing how he would let you take it all away from him. No amount of awards won or sold-out shows could amount to the transparency in your eyes during moments like these. Everything out on the surface, just for him. He wanted to eat you alive and he wanted you to do the same thing to him, and then he wanted to make a song about it.  

Sohee caught your lips on his, pressing deep into your pout like you always did with him. You somehow tasted like the dingy bar, like the warm air and the stale taste of the aging snacks you neatly set out every night. Sohee wanted to see if he could taste the nearly metallic tap water on your tongue so he pushed deeper. When his tongue broke past your lips your whole body froze. He could tell you weren’t used to him taking the lead, but he was also feeling something in the air tonight. You got used to it and accepted him quickly, the same way everyone who lives here gets used to change.

“Right there, Sohee.” You whimpered against his lips and held onto his shoulder a little tighter, pulling him into you.

He was already dead, and he couldn’t care less. He wanted to be buried in your backyard, or maybe underneath your bed. He wouldn’t mind the smell, he hoped it would be the same for you.

Maybe if he was lucky his future child would become a rockstar. During their future acceptance speech for an award they would thank you two, getting teary eyed as they talked about the sacrifice his parents made. Then the camera would cut to you and Sohee, sitting side by side. Your faces would be all wrinkly and your eyes would be dead from working sleepless nights and worrying if your artistic child would make anything of their lives, but you two would be holding hands the same way you were clutching his his now.

After Sohee pulled away, he saw the drool coat your lips and the single line that dribbled down your face. He pressed his fingers against your walls and your whole body started reacting. You pulled Sohee at an angle into you so quickly that his forehead was pressed into the seat beside your head while you started breathing heavily. He wasn’t used to the manhandling from you, or the sudden display of strength but something in him enjoyed feeling your arm wrap around his waist and clutch his shoulder so easily. You completely gave up giving him a handjob, but he didn’t care. He needed to see you finish. So he let you pull him even more as he tried fingering you from the awkward angle. Now it was Sohee’s breath that was fanning the crook of your neck as he tried craning his head to see your face contort in pleasure. Your hand that suddenly pressed into the back of his head kept him there, and Sohee wished he could’ve told you he needed to see your face. But your moans were louder than any voice he could muster, and the way your walls were clenching around his fingers told him he was running out of time. As a consolation prize Sohee licked your neck before pressing his teeth into the wet patch of your skin and biting down. 

Sohee felt your back arch until your chest pressed against his. He pressed back into you, restricting your movement and keeping you in place as he continued working his fingers in and out of you. The slick noises filled the car and Sohee didn’t stop, even when his wrist started screaming at him to do so. He just kept plunging fingers back into your heat as a new wave of you coated his fingers and your legs started shaking. 

Despicably Sohee silently hoped he would draw blood from your neck, maybe if he ripped out a big enough piece of flesh he would kill you before you could kill him. But your hand that was holding his head in place threaded through his hair to pull him away. He hissed from the pain and the pinpricks of his strands being pulled out but he stayed there, just biting and sucking your skin until your other hand started pushing at his shoulder.

“Too much, too much.” You said weakly.

Sohee let his canines press into the pulse of your neck one last time before he pulled away. He kept his fingers inside of you, pumping slowly just to finally see the final twitches rack through your body. His eyes focused on the imprint of his teeth in your neck, he counted each tooth over and over again, focusing on his canines that dug particularly deep. He felt pride blossom in his chest, physical proof of real pain to distract him from the constant pangs he felt in his heart. But something in him tore when one of your hands went to his wrist to pull him from your cunt while the other ran a hand over his bite mark. Sohee looked at your large eyes in astonishment as you ran your fingers over the indents in the crook of your neck.

“Your dragon teeth almost broke the skin.” You said, still running your hand over the indent. 

Sohee watched your finger stay on the imprint his canines left behind. Sohee felt the aching in his pants again as he licked his lips.

“Sorry.” Sohee apologized while fully getting off of your body. You could do the same to me. Maybe even worse. Just rip my flesh right off the bone next time you get a chance.

He went back to his side of the car as he watched you try and gather your bearings. He looked outside the window, already seeing the fog form on the inside. The cars speeding by on the highway was only a blur, and he imagined himself in one of those cars leaving the town. 

He was still looking out the window when he heard you moving out of your shirt, and just as he looked to you again Sohee saw your chest become free in your dimly lit car. He couldn’t take his eyes off, each time was like the first without fail. He reached across the space to grab you in both of his hands, the flesh spilling out between his fingers. He was caught in your web again, mindlessly kneading and pressing down to try and pull noises from you. He pulled on your stiff nipples, another harsh display of the power imbalance he tried to make right. But when you only moaned from the tug and climbed on top of his lap, you took back the power just as easy. 

The worst part was that he didn’t even know if you knew the power you had over him. You controlled everything in his life when you were in his sights. He swore you controlled the temperature in your car that suddenly raised tenfold and the light that shined perfectly behind your head like the sun. He was blinded worse than he ever was in his life looking up at you. When your hand caressed his cheek he drew in a sharp breath, already feeling the lurch in his heart as you smiled down at him.

“Can I ride you?” You asked even though you both already knew the answer. 

Sohee gave the illusion of a choice by nodding his head and pointing towards the center console. You smiled and reached towards the floor of your car, bringing the foil packet of a condom in his line of sight. 

“You know I never forget.” You said.

Sohee nodded again, swallowing his nerves to try and wet his dry throat. When you backed up on his lap and pulled at the waistband of his boxers Sohee lifted his hips to push them down to his ankles. His dick sprung straight up, red and angry from your accidental edging. Sohee looked from his dick to your mocking pout as you pinched his cheek.

“Sorry I didn’t make you cum earlier.” You said, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

Sohee didn’t know how you considered this to be fun as his dick twitched. The overheard light caught the precum leaking from his tip, glistening as you continued to coo at him. Sohee hid in the crook of his elbow with the other hand gripping the skin of your waist. He can do alot of things. He can transition from his chest voice to his head voice seamlessly, he can memorize the lyrics of any song in under a hour, but what he absolutely can not do is watch you put the condom on his dick. He doesn’t know what it is, but the mere thought of it has him pulsing in your hand as your align the bottom of the condom with his dick.

“Look at me Sohee.” You cooed and Sohee pulsed in your hand again.

Sohee shook his head as he felt the latex hug the tip of his dick. Between your hand and the condom he felt the rubber ring, waiting to be pushed down the rest of his length.

“I wanna see you do it.” You said it weakly, the previous teasing tone in your voice completely gone.

Only when you pulled your hands away did Sohee take his arm away from his eyes. He regretted it immediately seeing your completely blown out eyes watch him eagerly. You looked like you were going to bite him any second, you licked your lips like you were getting ready to. Your hungry eyes focused on his veiny hands as he gripped the base of his veiny dick. Just like when he was getting his pants off Sohee’s hands just didn’t seem to be cooperating. The lubricated latex slipped right out of his fingers, and he didn’t apply enough force to roll the rest of the condom down his dick. You didn’t help, you only watched him with amusement as you started running your hands over his body. 

The more gentle you were running your hands everywhere the more impatient Sohee got. When you grazed your fingers over his chest slowly, Sohee clenched his hand around his dick pretending it was you. When you ran your hand down his shoulders he shook his head slightly, feeling something akin to electricity prickle his skin. 

You were teasing him, playing mind games to keep him in the back of your car forever. Maybe this was the night you were really going to kill him. Sohee thought about how he told his bandmates that he was going to be with you tomorrow. He hoped Wonbin would be able to lead the cops straight to this parking lot. They’d bust you right in the middle of your shift while you served IPA’s on tap to businessmen who hated their lives and—

“Sohee.”

He blinked rapidly looking at you, not even noticing you had replaced his hand with your own. You hovered directly over his dick, the same look of worry written across your face from earlier.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized, not sure what for. 

Regardless he said the right thing, the look on your face turned back to the insatiable hunger you always had after closing down your bar.

“It’s okay.” You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Can I—“

Rob me of all my ambitions? Keep me in this town forever? Kill me? 

“Yes.” Sohee said, moving his other hand to your hip. 

He held your waist with all his might, digging his fingers into your skin until he felt the bone. Your desperation was reflected in the way you held onto his shoulder for dear life, digging your fingernails in until they left indents. Maybe if he was lucky, you’d break the skin. 

You definitely had the chance of drawing blood when you first sank down on his dick. For a moment you were so tight Sohee’s tip prodded your entrance, but when his hand rubbed your lower stomach you relaxed. You took all of him with ease just like you always did. He fit inside of you like a puzzle piece, and your body shivered above his when his dick somehow reached even deeper.

You whined and tipped your head backwards, rotating your hips to feel him in that part of your stomach. Sohee watched the show and used one hand to guide you in a circular motion while the other continued to press into your lower stomach. Your eyes were already screwed shut and you were gasping for air like you were already feeling your second impeding orgasm. There were times you’d have Sohee in the backseat of your car purely for stress relief. During those nights—which was most nights—Sohee could barely form a sentence while you bounced on his dick saying whatever came to your mind. The first time Sohee saw you like that, he had to write a song about it. Ironically, it was the song he’d be working on tomorrow at Wonbins’. So Sohee tried to pay extra close attention to your hips, and the way your body would momentarily freeze when something felt particularly good. He hoped that you would tell him he was your favorite singer, the confession coming out rushed through your swollen lips.

Tonight was different. There wasn’t a sense of fervor in your hips as you chased after an orgasm. Everything was intentional, everything was slow. The way you gasped quietly before loosening your grip on Sohee’s shoulder while your other hand caressed his cheek. You seemed to try so hard to keep your eyes open, as if you were trying to memorize everything about him. When you bent down to kiss Sohee again you didn’t push your tongue past his lips. You continued to give him breathy chaste kisses while grinding your hips against his.

When Sohee saw your eyebrows cinch in frustration, he pressed deep into his seeat to create a small amount of space before driving his hips up into yours. Even if the thrust was small you reacted fully, twitching and bring your chest to rest against his. 

Maybe you really were feeling sentimental. 

Sohee pulled away from your lips to see you open your eyes. He saw that they were glassy like always, but the whites of your eyes looked like they were starting to turn red. Sohee told himself it was because you were tired as he flicked his hips up the same way again. Sohee gasped when you clenched around him the same time you whimpered hopelessly. He maintained eye contact with you and did it a third time. He had to let out a shaky breath of his own when you hung your head from the stimulation.

“Sohee.” You whimpered quietly.

He didn’t say anything back. He would’ve told you about the two bedroom apartment that allowed pets down the street if he said anything else. He only fucked up into you again and closed his eyes in bliss. 

Sohee felt your body collapse against his. Your bare chest pressed deeply into his as he started grinding his hips up into yours. You were no help anymore, you were already a puddle of whines and whimpers and the same breathless declarations of his name. 

Your hand that caressed Sohee’s cheek traveled to the nape of his neck to thread through his dampening strands of hair. You pulled experimentally just like you did every night as if Sohee would react any differently. Each time he would hiss and tilt his head towards the slight pain. Your breath fanned the newly exposed part of his neck, the same place where he bit you. He felt your hesitation, only a timid lick as you burrowed deeper into the crook.

“Do it.” Sohee whispered as he started lifting you by your hips to and bringing you down with the same force.

Bite me. Eat me whole. I won’t have to worry about failing if I can blame my death on you. The greatest musicians die young anyway’s right?

When you still held back, Sohee found a new strength inside of him. He was able to lift your completely off his length, bringing you down the same time he drove his hips up. He was fucking up into you and fucking you down on him at the same time. He heard you hiss from the stimulation as your hand dug into the seat cushion beside his head to steady yourself. Your skin slapping against his filled your car and he could feel it rocking from the movement. He imagined your bared teeth in the crook of his neck, so close to the vein that gave him life. Sohee’s brought his hand across your back to hold you tight against him and pushed your head closer to his neck. He could practically feel the blood pulsing where your teeth would go.

“Do it.” He lamented.

You only hesitated for a second before digging your teeth into his skin. Sohee swore he could feel each individual tooth leaving its indent on your skin. The pain made his adrenaline skyrocket, and Sohee fucked into you with a strength and speed that was new to the both of you. You held on for the ride, and eventually you started finding some of your own strength back. You were bouncing on his dick without the guidance of his hands, and you pulled away from his neck to press your forehead against his.

“Are you close?” You asked, trying so hard to hold on.

“So close.” Sohee answered.

From the tone in his voice you clamped around his dick again. A sigh racked through his body, and the terrible thought of taking off his condom flashed through his mind. His hand went from the back of your neck to your shoulder, holding you close like you were going to break.

“Let’s do it together.” You said quickly.

You planted your feet on the seat and started bouncing. Sohee went from controlling the tempo entirely to being completely at your mercy. He still gripped your hip and clutched your shoulder to feign dominance, but he was moaning pitifully as you continued working him.

“Touch me there, Sohee.” You said.

Sohee wordlessly moved the hand that was on your shoulder to your clit, hoping that’s what you meant by there. The way your pace faltered let him know he was most likely right, but he needed your confirmation. He looked up from his fingers that worked your swollen bud to your eyes. Sweat lined your face, and Sohee swore he saw tears forming in the corners of your eyes. He pressed deeper, and saw you sniffle before catching your lip between your teeth.

“Here?” He asked, eyes wide as he followed your every move.

“Right there.” You answered immediately and screwed your eyes shut. “I’m gonna cum.” You moaned.

Sohee nodded, and let the orgasm he was staving off come to the forefront of his mind. Already he felt like he was ready to explode, he just needed to see you do it first.

“Me too.” He whimpered back as his fingers worked your clit.

Within seconds your hips stilled and your moan reverberated through the car. If you were like him, he was sure your cries would’ve cracked the window. But you only continued to sob out broken declarations of Sohee’s name, and within seconds he followed suit. He taut balls twitched against your ass, and he felt the familiar spill into his condom. If he closed his eyes and focused hard enough there was nothing separating the two of you, and he felt a new wave of cum spurt from his tip. 

He started shivering from the relief, a breathy laugh as he felt the stimulation of your walls still spasming around him. You pressed  a million kisses around his face, and Sohee’s entire body went so limp in your backseat that his lower back cracked. He continued to feel everything, inspiration for a new song and newfound love for his city and the current state of his life. he brought your tired sweaty body close to his and kept you there. 

He matched the rise of his chest to the fall of yours, then matched your breathing completely. You two had become one, laying in the backseat of your car as the flickering lamp posts light finally went out.

After everything, the nothingness always seemed comforting. everything seemed warm. Sohee rubbed his hand up and down the expanse of your back that was already becoming cold again.

“Come with me to the studio next week.” Sohee said.

He spoke to the review mirror that showed him a clear view of the back of your head. As if you knew he wouldn’t have the funds, Sohee watched your closed eyes open quickly as you stared at the side of his face. 

When you pulled away from Sohee’s body he wiped some of the sweat from your forehead. He went to the apple of your cheek, squeezing slightly as you got up from his lap. He worked the filled condom off his dick as you leaned forward past the center console to grab your clothes. You put your bra on and looked back at him briefly before you facing your clothes again.

“Can’t.” You said quietly.

“It’ll be before your shift.” Sohee reasoned

“i’m moving tomorrow.” You said even quieter

Sohee sat up from his seat. The rare life update from you piqued his interest and the way you didn’t face him made Sohee try to maneuver to look at you.

“To the new apartment buildings downtown?” He asked.

You scoffed and shook your head. Sohee shifted forward in his seat again to pull his boxers back up his legs.

“I’m moving to California.” You answered.

Sohee paused, and the elastic from his waistband snapped against his skin. He tilted his head to the side, still trying to figure out why you wouldn’t look at him. In the silence you worked your panties back up your legs and your shirt was resting in your lap by the time Sohee found his voice again.

“What’s in California?” He asked.

Finally you faced away from your clothes to look at Sohee. 

“I don’t know, everything?” You pulled your shirt back over your head and Sohee was still completely still, only in his boxers. “Stores that are open past nine, the arts, other people my age.” You continued.

“I mean, what are you going to do out there?” Sohee asked.

He still didn’t move, even when you put his clothes onto his lap so he could change.

“Well the bartender that works here in the mornings, she wants to pursue acting. She asked me if I wanted to move and I just thought to myself if I don’t do it now it may never happen.” You seemed happy, smiling ear to ear as you thought about your journey that was starting tomorrow. “Her Dad said he’d spot us first month’s rent, and I already found a bar close to our place that’s hiring.” You said.

You somehow did something worse than killing him. In a days time, you would only be a shadow, a figment of Sohee’s imagination. He for some reason felt like the world was crashing down around him while you looked the happiest he’s ever seen you. When he remained unmoving, he saw your eyebrows stitch together as you looked at him carefully.

“You’re not gonna say anything?” You asked.

I just stabbed you in the heart, aren’t you happy? Look, I can even twist the knife too.

Sohee shook his head and put his graphic tee on. He could feel you becoming apprehensive, and he felt himself becoming frustrated for no reason.

“I thought you’d be the type to stay here forever.” Sohee said.

Your eyebrows raised and your head cocked to the side as Sohee’s words sunk in. He could tell you remembered the few times he would refer to people who stayed in their hometowns their whole lives as an insult before you started pulling your pants up your legs.

“I actually take offense to that.” You said.

Sohee started pulling his own pants up, shaking his head to try and make envy leave his body.

“I just think it’s weird you’re moving across the country to become a bartender.” Sohee reasoned. “You’ll be in California not to be a singer or an actress, but a bartender?”

He knew he messed up when you paused buttoning your jeans. You turned to face him completely, your skin still clammy from sweat.

“What’s so wrong with that?” You scoffed before climbing over the center console to the drivers seat. “Everyone has to start somewhere.” 

Sohee followed after you, going into the passengers seat as you dug around in your purse for the keys. He knew he didn’t have the right to speak, but none of this felt fair. He thought that you had the same inner struggle he was having every night he came to see you. But you were fine—in fact you were more than fine—because you were getting out, something Sohee failed to do.

“Couldn’t you just do that here? And save your money?” He asked.

“I’ve been doing it here for awhile. I’ve saved up more money than you think.” Your car came to life when you put the keys in the ignition, but afterwards you turned to Sohee with indignation written across your face. “Sohee I didn’t even know you knew my name until we had sex for the first time. And now here you are telling me how I should live my life?” You said.

Everything was so unfair. He knew more about you than he knew about himself. He wanted to know more, the time you two spent together suddenly felt so short. If he knew you were going to kill him anyway he would’ve dug a little deeper. 

“Did you just expected me to stay in this town and fuck you every night until you left?” You looked to him from your side of the seat, and when he didn’t respond you shook your head. 

“Just until I get enough money for the studio.”

Sohee didn’t know if he was talking about studio time or the studio apartment that he would get if you two didn’t want to move in together right away. Everything in his mind was becoming jumbled, only set clear by your confused voice.

“Then what?” You asked.

Then we both give up our dreams together and settle in life. We get that apartment and we have a child, then we grow old to resent eachother because we held ourselves back just to be comfortable. But maybe our child would become rich and famous and we’d live the rest of our days in luxury.

When Sohee said nothing back to you, he watched you give up. You let out a sigh and your shoulders sagged, and you pulled out of the parking spot and drove on the underpass to Sohee’s house. He thought about Dragon Teeth and how you’d be living in California while he lived in New York pursuing his dream. He thought about the off chance of him staying in this boring town with the hopes that you’d eventually find your way back to the dingy dive bar you worked at nearly every day. Maybe he’d be waiting there for you, or maybe he’d write a song about it, and when you listened on the radio you’d know it’d be just for you.

He wanted to let you know about his plan when you stopped in front of his house but the words couldn’t come out. You still gave him a smile, muttering about how you’d miss him and think about him everyday. Sohee felt the knife turn in his heart as he said the same, already writing the lyrics in his mind to deal with the pain.

[p0ssywhippedcream]

if u do pjo..... could u do god apollo smut just need that godly dick atp

“Yeah? How does that feel, baby?”

He’s so fucking smug, he knows you can’t answer him with words and he still asks you.

Your hands tighten on his shoulders, your lip firmly stuck between your teeth as you nod your head. Your eyes are firmly shut, the sensations too much.

“That good, huh? Don’t worry, sweet girl, I’ll take care of you.” You’re not even looking at him and you can tell he’s got a smirk on his face.

His hips press into yours like hot kisses. He goes so fast in his thrusts and slows right as his body meets yours, just to watch you whine and to feel your heels on his back push him in further.

Apollo knows every inch of your body so it’s safe to say that when he’s inside of you, he’s making you feel better than you’ve ever felt.

Your back is a harsh arch off the bed, your shoulders dig into the mattress as he bangs it against the wall. Your legs are shaking around his waist and he’s just gotten started.

He drops one of his hands from where it had been holding him up to grab the back of your knee and throw your leg over his shoulder. He puts his hand back down and grabs your other leg with his other hand to spread you open more.

At this angle, you can feel everything. The way his tip drags through your cunt, the throbbing of his cock when you squeeze him. You’re going to be sore for atleast two weeks.

And he’s so warm, his body is literally radiating heat right now. There’s a faint golden glow all over him and his skin is just warm enough like clothes fresh out of the dryer.

Apollo leans his head in towards yours and bites your bottom lip, effectively stealing it from your teeth and smearing a sloppy kiss on your mouth.

“You look so beautiful like this, baby. So angelic. I couldn’t make an instrument sound as good as your moans.”

Your eyes open and you shudder, your body unable to help the reaction to the way he’s looking at you. Feral, unhinged, in love, so, so sexy. The vulnerability in his face makes him seem almost human but the otherworldly glow negates it.

You can tell he’s getting close, the wet sound of where you connect getting louder as he gets faster. The hand he had used to hold himself up on finds your cheek and he tilts your face into his.

“So beautiful.” He says but it’s mostly to himself. You’re so close, so ready. Your entire body is drenched in his warmth, the feeling of him and it’s so much to experience.

Your lips capture his one last time, his cocky grin almost too wide to be caught and he feels more than hears the words “I love you.” on his lips.

You love him, perfect you. You don’t worship him or pray or beg or seduce, you love him. The way one human loves another. His envy of mortals increases tenfold, he’d give anything to be a man wrapped in your embrace, just a man.

As he feels your body quiver, your cunt tighten and your orgasm hit you like a train, he also feels a pull in his chest. He needs you more than he needs anything else. He loves you the way he would love you if he were mortal.

His heart skips a beat as he groans out your name, painting your pussy white with his desire.

His breath is hot on your face, his whole body seemed to have overheated a little bit but he’s not panting. He’s watching you come down from the heavens and he loves you.

“I love you.” It’s a gift he’s never felt so scared to give, you accept it with a sleepy smile.

[starlightkun]

⏯ word count: 9.5k ⏯ genre: fluff, established relationship, band au, punk drummer!sungchan, sequel to filler episodes, reader isn’t completely boring anymore! yay!, she’s still figuring it out a little bit but it’s not a full-fledged quarter life crisis anymore, ft. shotaro/eunseok/wonbin as sungchan’s bandmates, and nct dream 00 line as reader’s normal friends™ ⏯ warnings: the usual cursing, and reader briefly gets creeped on in a scene but gets out of there pretty quick, and that’s really it! if i missed any please let me know ⏯ extra info: this is the sequel to filler episodes, it cannot be read as a standalone! ⏯ author’s note: guys i almost died writing this they’re so cute 🤧 ⏯ now playing… pluto – xdinary heroes | undercover – a.c.e | injured crow – bears in trees

He didn’t pull away when the kiss broke, affectionately nuzzling his nose with yours again. “Yeah…” he murmured, a content smile on his face. “I get it.”

“Get what?”

“The sappy love songs, all the wars, carving things in trees, the locks on bridges, all of it.”

The excited hum of the crowd was audible from backstage as you helped the band with their final checks before going on.

“Shotaro, your in-ears,” you handed said equipment to the frontman.

“Oh, I was looking for those! Thanks!” He grinned as he took them from you, slipping one in his ear.

“Wonbin, I thought you weren’t going to wear more white shirts after you stained the one from yesterday blue with your sweat,” you reminded the guitarist, fixing a piece of his freshly-dyed dark blue hair that was out of place.

He looked down at his white tank top as if just remembering this, then shrugged. “This was the only clean shirt I had.”

“Laundry. We’re all doing laundry tomorrow,” you declared, looking around for the remaining members. “Where are the other two?”

“We’re here, we’re here,” Sungchan appeared at your side, Eunseok right behind him, tucking his shirt in. “Just had to use the bathroom.”

“Alright, everyone good?” You pointed at all of them, receiving various yeses and thumbs-up in return.

Another crew member called out two minutes before they had to go on, and you started backing away as they grabbed their instruments. “Okay, good luck, have fun, I’ll see you guys after.”

“Thanks, Y/N!” The other three members beamed at you, attentions turning to the stage in front of them.

Sungchan hung back with you for another moment, cupping your cheek with a hand to pull your lips to his. “Thank you, baby.”

“Good luck, Sungchan,” you murmured, giving him one more peck. “I love you.”

“Love you more.” He let you go with a grin.

You emerged from backstage almost directly in the crowd, having to pass through a set of curtains and step over one rope until you were in the packed venue. Feeling a bit bad as always, you tried to squeeze through the people as nicely as you could. A staff member of the venue who was standing up by the stage and facing the crowd eyed you as you got closer and closer, and you held up the lanyard around your neck indicatively. Hanging from the lanyard was a crew member badge for the headliner band. Roses for Eyes hadn’t been able to get any of their own made—both due to how last-minute of an addition they were, and because they didn’t really have any crew or staff of their own, relying pretty much on the headliner’s crew and you—so you had been given a badge from the headliner’s crew to allow you to move freely in the venues.

The venue staff member relaxed and nodded, gesturing between them and the barricade, asking if you needed to get in there. You shook your head, stopping a few people behind barricade and off to the side.

As the guys came out and started their first song, you pulled out your phone to start taking pictures. On top of becoming the de facto tour manager for Roses for Eyes, you had also been in charge of taking videos and pictures of all the performances for their social media. They only had a thirty-minute set, and you always felt the pressure to capture all the best moments from each night.

You were focusing in on Wonbin’s guitar solo when you became aware of a presence over your shoulder. Thinking it was just someone in the crowd trying to get closer, you shuffled forward as best you could while still recording Wonbin.

“Hey.” A guy’s voice was right by your ear, making you nearly jump out of your skin.

The guitar solo was over, and as you switched back into taking pictures, you offered a polite nod to the man next to you in the crowd who had spoken to you. “Hi.”

“They’re good, right?” He was still shout-talking to you over the music.

“Yeah, they’re awesome.” You agreed, catching the perfect moment of Eunseok and Shotaro jamming out together.

“You a fan?”

“Uh-huh. Big fan.”

The lights went down for a dramatic rise back up into the next song, and you pointed your camera at Sungchan, knowing he always went hard on the intro of this one.

“So are you here by yourself?”

“I’m working,” you told him shortly, flashing your badge at him.

He either didn’t get the hint or didn’t care. “Cool, cool. So are you single?”

“Nope.”

“Really?”

Rolling your eyes, you decided to stop answering, focusing back on your job.

“Come on, what’s—” As soon as his hand grabbed your upper arm, you whipped around to shake him off.

“Fuck. Off.” You glared at him, lowering your phone as you focused on this problem.

“So you were lying. About not being single?”

“Don’t fucking touch me,” you hissed back. “Doesn’t matter if I’m single or not.”

He held his hands up. “We got off on the wrong foot. Can I try again?”

“No. Fuck off.”

A group of women who had been off to the side of you must have taken notice of what was going on, as two of them stepped in between you and the man, staring down at him from the top of their very tall platform boots.

“She said fuck off.” One of them spat at him. “We heard her tell you twice.”

“We were just talking.” He looked at you sheepishly, as if expecting you to defend him.

“No, we weren’t.” You retorted.

“So fuck off.” Another woman took a step closer to him, crossing her arms over her chest.

He muttered something about bitches as he slunk off into the crowd. You let out a breath of relief as the women swarmed you to check on you.

“Are you okay?” The first woman who had stepped in bent down to ask you.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you assured them. “Thank you, really.”

“Of course!” A third one fixed your jacket for you. “We weren’t going to stand around with that happening right in front of us!”

“Do you want to watch the rest of the concert with us?” The first woman offered. “We’ll keep you tucked in safe right in the middle of us.”

You flashed them an appreciative smile. “If you don’t mind, then please.”

“Oh my god, of course!” They welcomed you into their group, encircling you, and letting you get lost in their fun energy for the night.

At the end of the show, you were sat at the band’s merch table. In addition to being the de facto tour manager and photographer/videographer, you also usually managed the merch table for Roses for Eyes. The headliner had plenty of crew to spare to work it, but you wanted to help however you could, and this was honestly one of your favorite parts. Various members usually came to hang out by the merch table and meet and talk with the concert goers, and you loved hearing all the praise that was showered on the guys. Almost nobody had heard of them before coming to the concerts, but it made your chest puff up with pride at how many people stayed just to tell the guys how much they loved their set.

Roses for Eyes didn’t have a lot of merch. In fact, they had exactly one kind of t-shirt, and CDs of their one and only semi-professionally recorded EP for sale. Which made your job easier, you just had to either hand them a CD, or ask their size in shirt.

“Oh my god, you’re here too!” Your next customers were the women who you had spent almost the whole concert with, their eyes sparkling with recognition and delight at you.

“Yes, I am!” You laughed as one reached out to fix your hair. “I’m everywhere, I swear. What can I get you guys?”

They each got a shirt, and a couple got CDs too. As you ran their cards and accepted their cash, they raved to you about the show.

“You know, I’d never heard of them before this, but they were so good!”

“That’s what everyone says,” you replied with a grin.

“I loved the first song they played, that was like—” She started mimicking the melody, and you recognized it immediately.

“Ah, ‘Lonely as Mars’!” You perked up. “That’s one of my favorites.”

“What’s your favorite song then?”

“Oh, I can’t say.” You grinned. “It’s not released yet…”

They all laughed and giggled at this. One peeked at the track list of the CD she had just bought from you again before looking up at you. “Guess we’ll have to wait until it’s released then, huh?”

“Yes, yes, please keep an eye out!” You couldn’t help it, you were proud of your boyfriend and the rest of your friends.

“Alright, beautiful, we’ll stop holding up your line.” One of them chuckled, giving your cheek a final tweak before the four of them moved over to the short line to chat with the band.

You couldn’t pause on that moment for too long, as more patrons came up to your table.

Once people had finally started trickling out of the venue, and you had no line left in front of either your merch table or to meet the band, you were unsurprised when Sungchan pulled up an extra folding chair next to you.

“You know,” he let out a sigh, scooting right up next to you until your legs were pressed together. “I think we need to completely deck you out in Roses for Eyes merch from head to toe.”

“One, you guys don’t even have that much merch. Two, I think all that would accomplish would be making me looking like a crazed fan.”

“Aren’t you?”

“I am your biggest fan,” you acquiesced with a giggle at how serious he looked, squeezing his leg. “But we need security to let me in, you know.”

“What about a shirt with my face on it?”

“I think that’d be even worse.”

“It can say ‘CREW’ on the back or something.”

You laughed again. “I did tell that guy I was working, you know. Which did nothing.”

“I know, baby, I’m not mad at you.” Sungchan put an arm around the back of your chair, leaning in closer to inform you, “I was up on stage wishing I could’ve been kicking his face instead of the bass drum.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t hop off stage just to beat up somebody in the crowd.” You whispered back. “Even if it would’ve been deserved.”

“God, I don’t know if I can take another month of hearing you get hit on from right next to me.” He was presumably referencing times like now, with you at the merch table and him nearby talking to patrons.

“You think I like hearing people compliment your tattoos as an excuse to feel up your arms?”

“I don’t let them!” He protested. “And sometimes they do actually like my tattoos!”

“I know, Sungchan,” you snickered. “It’s hard being the hottest couple ever, isn’t it?”

“God truly gives his toughest battles to his sexiest soldiers,” Sungchan joked back, letting his arm drop down to your waist.

“Hey, on the bright side, tomorrow is the Venue:Hell show,” you reminded him. “I’ll have Jeno and Jaemin and my other two much less sturdy friends there. Not to mention Anton, Sohee, and Seunghan.”

He didn’t seem much happier about this, letting out a little grumble, “Mmm, alright.”

You looked around at the nearly empty venue, the only fans left chatting with a couple of the members from the headlining band by their table. “Do you think we can shut it down for the night?”

“Yeah, I think you’ve done plenty, baby.” He snuck a quick kiss to your temple. “So thankful for you.”

Your hometown was only a short, three-hour drive from the previous venue, so Roses for Eyes made the very cost-effective decision to drive straight there after the show to crash at the band’s apartment for the night instead of getting a hotel in the city right next-door. All of you let out groans of both relief and exhaustion when you finally opened the front door to their apartment. Luggage was immediately dropped on the floor of the living room as muttered ‘goodnight’s were lazily tossed over shoulders and everyone disappeared into their own rooms. After the five of you had been sharing two (or sometimes one) hotel rooms every night and a van every day for the past month, you knew everyone was glad to have some space again. You dropped onto Sungchan’s bed, a subtle happiness spreading out through you at being in the familiar surroundings again.

Sungchan flopped down pretty much on top of you, burying his face in your neck as he wrapped his arms around you tight.

“Night, baby,” he pressed a kiss to your cheek, then left his face there, nuzzling his nose against your cheekbone. “Love you so much.”

“Mm, night, Sungchan.” You pulled one of his hands up to drop a peck on the back of his fingers. “Love you so much… even more…”

In the morning, you woke up still underneath Sungchan, and smiled to yourself, letting your eyes flutter shut. You fell asleep again for who knows how long, being woken up by gentle kisses being peppered all over your cheek.

Shifting a little bit, you squinted one eye open to offer Sungchan a sleepy smile. “Morning.”

“Did I wake you up?” He whispered. “Sorry, baby.”

“It’s okay, Sungchan,” you chuckled softly. “It was a great way to wake up.”

“I just woke up and saw you and I was thinking about how much I love and appreciate you,” he hummed, pressing two more kisses to your face. “Love you so much, and I’m so thankful for everything you’ve done for us, you know.”

“I was serious about being your biggest fan.”

“I know. But I mean, we would’ve already crashed and burned so many times on this tour without you. And you stepping up not only to manage, but take photos and run our merch table? You didn’t have to do any of that. I asked you to come with because I couldn’t stand the thought of going two months without you. Not because we needed a crew member.”

“But you did need a crew member. Several, actually,” you replied humorously. “And I wasn’t going to just tag along and do nothing. Even if you had a manager and social media person and a fully staffed merch table already, I would’ve found something.”

“I don’t doubt it.” He kissed the corner of your mouth. “God, I’m so in love with you. Love you so, so much I feel like I’m going to die.”

“Alright, well don’t do that,” you hummed, shifting onto your back and carding your fingers through his hair. You pulled him up to give him a kiss on the lips, laughing into his mouth when he dropped his full body weight back onto you again. “I love you too, Sungs. You big, clingy snugglemonster of a guy.”

“Your guy.”

“Yeah, you are.”

With your second load of laundry in the dryer, you hauled the stuff you’d just pulled out of the dryer into Sungchan’s room, dropping it onto his bed to start folding it. It’d all be going right back into your suitcases, but it was nice not having to do this in a laundromat.

You hadn’t heard a peep from the other three all morning, and as far as you knew, they were still passed out. Not that they were really morning people under normal circumstances anyway, but you figured they deserved to sleep in for today. If they weren’t up by the time Sungchan came back with lunch for everyone, you’d probably wake them up. After all, they had a show tonight, and you would need to be back on the road tomorrow morning.

Sungchan’s bedroom door opened again, your boyfriend poking his head in. “Food’s here.”

“Can you help me finish folding all this first?” You requested, and he obliged immediately, joining you by the mattress and picking up a t-shirt. “We should probably wake everyone else up so they can eat before the show.”

Suddenly, Sungchan started chuckling as he grabbed the next article of clothing to start folding.

“What’s so funny?” You questioned.

“Nothing, I was just thinking about how… normal this is.” He pointed between you, him, and the laundry. “After being on the road for a month, it’s weird. I love it, I love not being cooped up in hotel rooms with everyone and having to smell-test my clothes as I’m rushing to get changed to go on stage but—” He laughed again. “I don’t know, it’s crazy how I love even stupid little chores like laundry with you.”

“Ah, Sungchan.” You tossed aside the socks you had just paired up, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face into his back. “You’re going to make me explode if you keep saying stuff like that.”

“Explode because you love me so much, I presume?” His grin was audible in his voice as he kept moving around to fold the rest of the laundry.

You just nodded against his back, continuing to hold him.

“Are we going to eat lunch like this?” He asked, and that’s when you realized he had finished up the last few garments.

You let out a dramatic sigh, taking your arms back. “I guess not.”

“You want to wake up Taro and Eunseok while I get Wonbin?”

Knowing that he was willingly taking the short end of the stick, you agreed easily. “Sure.”

You knocked on Shotaro’s door first, waiting for a few seconds before knocking again after you got no response. This time, you heard a garbled ‘Eh?’ from inside.

“Taro? You up?” You called out.

He groaned, and you could hear his feet as he shuffled over to open his door. The frontman rubbed his eyes and yawned. “Mm, hey. What time is it?”

“Lunchtime,” you informed him. “Good morning.”

“Oh, morning.” He grunted and stretched. “I’ll help you get Eunseok up.”

The two of you approached the bassist’s door together, and on the other side of the apartment, you could hear Sungchan’s unsuccessful attempts to wake Wonbin. Shotaro attempted very loud banging on the door once, and when he inevitably got no response, just threw it open. It was pitch black in the room thanks to Eunseok’s blackout curtains. You hung back by the doorway as Shotaro flicked the lights on then grabbed his bandmate’s shoulders.

Eunseok swore loudly, throwing an elbow out towards Shotaro as he rolled over and tried to push his face into his pillow.

“Nope!” Shotaro shook his shoulders again. “Come on, Eunseok! Wakey wakey! Good morning! Food! We have food! And if you don’t come eat it now, we’ll eat it all without you.”

Eunseok let out a long, slow sigh before sitting up straight in his bed. He pushed hair out of his face as he glowered at Shotaro. “If there’s no food, I’m going to cut your guitar strings one by one with kitchen shears while you watch.”

“Good morning, Eunseok,” you added with a snicker. He wordlessly flipped you off. You returned the gesture.

The three of you were already in the kitchen by the time Sungchan came back, practically dragging a still-snoozing Wonbin with him. Sungchan had a harrowed look on his face, while the guitarist yawned and nuzzled his cheek against your boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Glad you could join us, sleepy,” you cooed, fixing Wonbin’s bedhead.

Shotaro and Eunseok finished making their plates and took them into the living room to eat—the guys had no dining table. You immediately started fixing two more plates of food in addition to your own, for Sungchan and Wonbin. Carefully balancing the three plates you brought them out to the living room as well, Sungchan dragging Wonbin behind you. He deposited Wonbin onto the couch next to Shotaro, and you set his plate and utensil down on the coffee table in front of him. Shotaro immediately took over prodding and waking Wonbin up to start eating, letting you and Sungchan squeeze into the armchair together with your food.

Roses for Eyes were doing their soundcheck that evening when you felt your phone start buzzing in your pocket. Checking it quickly, you saw that it was Jaemin, and stepped away to take the call.

“Hey!” You greeted him brightly, plugging your other ear to be able to hear him better. “Are you guys here?”

“Yeah, we can’t figure out which door to use?” He said, and in the background, you could hear the distant voices of Donghyuck and Renjun bickering. “And we don’t want to get the cops called on us or anything.”

“That wouldn’t happen, promise,” you snorted. “Places like this aren’t particularly fond of cops. Anyway, I’ll come get you! Are you by the front?”

“If the front is an unmarked rusted metal door, then yes.”

“Okay! Wait there!” You hung up.

Stepping back into the band’s eyeline, you lifted a hand to get their attention. They didn’t stop playing, but a couple of the members looked at you indicatively. You jerked a thumb at the exit and mouthed ‘be right back.’ Sungchan nodded, and Shotaro, who had been holding his mic with two hands anyway, gave you a thumbs-up.

Jogging through the venue, you opened the front door, squinting against the bright light of the sun for a moment. It was easy to find your friends, as Renjun presently had an arm around Donghyuck’s neck and Jaemin and Jeno watched on like they were two dads grilling at a cookout.

“Hey, guys!” You called out, running up to them.

“Y/N!” Jaemin whipped around, bright smile on his face as he went to hug you. “Oh my god, hey! You’re okay!”

“Hi, Jaem,” you laughed, hugging him back just as forcefully. “I didn’t go off to war, you know.”

“I know, I know.”

“Just ran off with my dirtbag boyfriend,” you couldn’t help but tease him, feeling as he scoffed, and perfectly imagining the eyeroll that came with it.

“Yeah, you haven’t let that one go, huh?”

“I’m afraid the guys are going to get matching shirts at this point.”

“I didn’t even call him your dirtbag boyfriend, I’m pretty sure I said—”

“Alright, you’re hogging her and now you’re nagging her,” Jeno interrupted, grabbing Jaemin’s shoulder.

Jaemin sighed and patted your head fondly as he let you go.

“Hey,” Jeno was beaming too as he grabbed you for a hug next.

“Hey, Jeno.” You squeezed him tight. “Thanks for the save, as always.”

“We used to be ‘the guys,’ you know?” Renjun had let Donghyuck go, and lodged his own teasing complaint as he gave you a brief hug. “Now it’s them?”

“I’m staying out of this one,” you announced, holding your hands up in surrender. “You all were my first ‘the guys,’ they’re my ‘the guys’ I’m around all the time right now, and Sungchan is, well, we all know—”

“Your dirtbag boyfriend!” Your friends said in unison, even Jaemin.

Renjun peered at your face inquisitively then, declaring, “You’re different.”

“What?” You tilted your head, absent-mindedly patting Donghyuck’s back in a one-armed hug.

“He’s right,” Hyuck agreed. “You’re not our same boring Y/N anymore.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment then,” you snorted. “Come on, you guys can catch the rest of their soundcheck.”

Walking back into the venue with the other four in tow, you could already tell which song they were playing just from the drum beat that reverberated up the stairs that you were descending. The air became noticeably cooler as you went underground.

“Ooh, you guys are lucky,” you told your friends over your shoulder. “They’re playing one that isn’t released yet. It’s my favorite.”

You emerged back to where the main stage was, staying put towards the back as the band kept playing. Your foot tapped along to the beat, and you hummed along to the melody under your breath as Wonbin started singing first. Your eyes strayed from the band over to your friends’ faces every so often, however, anxious to see if they were enjoying it at all. You could still remember clearly the only other time they’d seen Roses for Eyes perform, and how well that went. They were here to show their support for you as your friends, not because they actually liked your boyfriend’s band, you were aware of that.

Jeno was bobbing his head along to the music, Renjun didn’t seem to be outright put off by it this time, but it was Jaemin and Donghyuck that concerned you. Their heads were together as they seemed to be quietly talking, but they were too far away for you to distinguish anything they were saying.

An errant sound in the song made you snap your head back over towards the stage, and you could tell that the rest of the members had noticed it as well, all of them looking at Sungchan for a second as they continued performing. As the song finished, you walked up towards the stage, concerned frown on your face as you looked up at your boyfriend.

“You alright, Sungchan?” You questioned. “You came in early for the last verse and hit the snare instead of the toms…”

“Yeah, baby, I’m okay,” he reassured you, pushing some hair off his forehead that had stuck there. “Just got distracted and accidentally started doing the last verse for Lonely as Mars instead.”

“Mm, alright.” You sighed. “Drink some water. All of you! I’m going to ask them to turn the AC up in here, you guys are dripping already and there isn’t even a crowd yet.”

A chorus of ‘thanks, Y/N’s followed you as you turned from the stage. Your friends were still standing uncertainly by the back wall, and you detoured over to them for a second.

“Sorry, can you guys wait here a second?” You requested. “I have to talk to the venue staff, it’ll just be a minute. I’ll also grab you a few VIP passes or something.”

When you returned, with the AC successfully nudged down a few degrees and four of the headliner’s VIP passes in hand, you saw that your friends had approached the stage, and were chatting with the band. Shotaro was sat on the edge of the stage, tuning his guitar, as Eunseok stood behind him, Wonbin was splayed out on his back on the stage, and Sungchan was still sat at his kit, miming drumming so as to not distract the others. His brow was furrowed with concentration as he ran through a pattern, not paying mind to anybody else.

“Here you go,” you smiled, handing out the VIP passes to all your friends. You then turned to the band to announce, “It should start getting much colder in here soon.”

Wonbin just lifted a thumbs-up in response before flopping his arm back onto the ground next to him.

“Thanks, Y/N!” Shotaro beamed. He turned to your friends again, “Like I was saying, we don’t know what we would’ve done without her. I don’t know how we managed before her, honestly.”

“You guys were doing just fine.” You shook your head. “You got invited on this tour all on your own, I had nothing to do with that, remember?”

“Dumb luck,” Eunseok snorted. “Their first opener’s vocalist broke his leg.”

“But if you guys hadn’t already put in the work yourselves, and weren’t awesome, they wouldn’t have asked you to fill in.”

“Alright, maybe you have a point,” Shotaro grinned.

Sungchan had finished what he was doing, and lumbered over to the edge of the stage, hopping down to stand next to you. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him.

“Hi,” you smiled up at him. “You done already?”

“Seemed like everybody else was taking a break.” He gestured to the rest of his bandmates.

“Because you said you needed to run your solo in ‘Split Seconds’ again on your own,” Eunseok retorted.

Sungchan pointedly ignored him, turning to your friends instead, giving them all good-natured nods. “Good to see you guys again. Glad you could make it out.”

“Yeah man, you too,” Jeno gave him a smile back.

“Of course, thanks uh, for inviting us out here…” Jaemin looked around the underground venue that you all were in, having a hard time keeping the uncertainty from his face, if he was even trying.

“Yeah, that was really convincing,” you hissed, pinching his arm.

“Ow!” His hand flew to rub the spot that you had just wounded, a pout coming to his face.

“So, where will the safest place in the crowd be?” Renjun asked the band, gesturing to the empty area behind you all.

The band exchanged confused looks. You clarified, “They don’t want to be in the mosh pit.”

They let out unanimous ‘ohh’s, and Shotaro took over explaining.

“A pit usually forms in the center… front-ish.” He waved his hand over a large swath of the venue. “So if you stay off to the sides, you should be fine.”

“I’m usually up by the barricades and off to the side, since I’m taking photos and stuff,” you added.

“Honestly, you should try it,” Eunseok suggested. “One of the rules of a mosh pit is to look out for the other moshers. You shouldn’t get trampled or anything.”

Renjun shot a look at Donghyuck, who already had a mischievous grin on his face. “Lee Donghyuck, if you shove me into a mosh pit, so help me, I’m dragging you in with me.”

The other guys snickered, and you couldn’t help but smile at the familiar bickering of your friends.

Checking your phone for the time, you then nudged Sungchan’s side and started shooing the rest of the band back towards the stage. “Alright, break’s over. You guys need to finish your soundcheck so we can hand the stage over.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Eunseok saluted you as Shotaro hopped back to his feet and both of them started yanking Wonbin up.

Sungchan kissed your temple and squeezed your shoulder in a wordless ‘thanks’ and ‘be back soon’ before effortlessly climbing back on stage. You stepped back to stand with your friends as the band counted off for their next song.

“Shotaro said that you’re not just tagging along, you’re like, doing everything for them?” Jaemin lowered his voice as much as he could to keep the conversation between the two of you, but still be heard over the music. “Like, tour manager, running their merch table, photos and videos…”

“Huh?” You looked over at him from where you were watching Sungchan closely to see if he had gotten out of his funk from earlier. “Oh, yeah, yeah. They needed some help, it’s not like I was really doing anything else.”

“I thought you might at least pitch in like doing merch or something, but…”

“But what?”

“Do you think you’ll keep doing this? When you get back? Being their manager or whatever?” Your friend sounded genuinely curious. “They all said they really rely on you.”

The expression fell off your face as you blinked at him, having never genuinely considered this. You frowned and tilted your head. “I… don’t think so.”

“Why not?” After a beat, he half-joked, “Pay’s not great?”

You gave him a light-hearted eyeroll at that. “Not only are they covering my travel and lodging expenses, but they’re insisting on giving me a cut of the tour and merch proceeds, too. Whatever we actually end up making, if anything.”

“Not bad.”

“I mean, I filled in now because they needed someone now. But, I just don’t think that’d be good for me and Sungchan,” you admitted. “Pitching in at their merch table or even backstage every once in a while is one thing, but working together that closely and dating… I don’t think it’d be good to do for the long-term. You know?”

Jaemin nodded in understanding. “That makes sense. So you’ll be looking for a job when you get back?”

“Yeah, I’ll have to find something.” You shrugged. “Eventually.”

All of you were hanging out in the band’s area backstage when a venue staff member tapped you on the shoulder. You turned to her inquisitively, stepping away from the conversation to hear her properly.

She sighed and shook her head. “There’s three guys at the front claiming they’re with you all. They’re really insistent. Anton, Seunghan, and Sohee?”

The look on her face made it clear that she didn’t believe them, and she was expecting this whole errand to be a waste of her time.

“Oh, yeah, yeah!” You replied brightly. “Where are they? I’ll bring them in.”

“Front door.”

“Thanks!” You darted off through the building. Grabbing three more passes from the headliner’s crew first, you then poked your head out the front door.

A line had begun forming already, and off to the side were your three friends, waiting with a rather unamused-looking venue staffer. You walked over, greeting the staff member politely.

“Hi, I’m Y/N, Roses for Eyes’ crew.” You showed him your badge. “Thanks for letting us know. They’re good to come in.”

You were handing the guys their own lanyards as you spoke, and the employee glanced over you one more time before shrugging.

“Cool. You got it from here?” He asked.

“Yep. Thanks again.” You flashed him a smile before starting back towards the door. Addressing your friends over your shoulder, you added, “Hi, by the way. You guys weren’t giving them trouble, were you?”

“What? Us?” Sohee replied with mock offense. “Never!”

“Did you get a haircut or something, Y/N?” Seunghan asked suddenly.

“Huh?” You looked back at him. “No, my hair’s the same.”

“Maybe it’s the clothes,” Anton suggested. “I think is the first time we haven’t seen you in a pantsuit.”

You scoffed. “It wasn’t growing from my skin, you know.”

“Yeah, we know that now.”

“They’re right,” Sohee agreed. “Something’s different.”

“You think so?” You looked down at yourself, furrowing your brow thoughtfully. “That’s what my friends said too…”

“Did you dye your hair?” Seunghan was apparently still stuck on your hair. “Like, a different shade of the same color?”

“No, I didn’t change my hair.” You shook your head. “You guys are late, by the way. Completely missed both bands’ soundcheck.”

“Sorry, Mom,” Anton teased, making the other two snicker.

You turned around to grab his ear. “Not your mom, you little punk. Take out your mommy issues on some other girl.”

“Ow! Ow!” He whined. “Okay, fine, you’re way more like an aggressive older sister anyway.”

Sohee and Seunghan were still laughing at Anton, who cradled his wounded ear as the three of you reentered Roses for Eyes’ green room. It hadn’t been very spacious before, already rather cozy with the band, you and your friends, now a bit cramped with the addition of the other three.

“They’re finally here!” You announced loudly as you opened the door.

The band’s faces immediately lit up at seeing their friends again, welcoming them in.

“Your girlfriend’s a bully, Sungchan.” Anton apparently wanted to continue your hallway bickering.

“Whatever it was, you probably deserved it,” Sungchan replied without hesitation, putting him in a headlock and messing up his hair for good measure.

Packed into the crowd, with your friends all around you and Roses for Eyes’ music coming through the speakers by your head so loud that you could feel it rattling your ribcage, you couldn’t picture anywhere else you’d rather be in that moment. The crowd was unbelievably energetic, feeding right back into the guys’ performance, and you eagerly yelled back the lyrics to them, one of the few who did, but entirely uncaring of that fact as every time you caught your boyfriend’s eye, or one of your friends’ gazes up on stage, they would give you the wildest grin and continue singing along with you.

For their part, your friends did look like they were having fun. They danced with you, clapped and cheered between songs, and followed your lead on chants. Anton, Sohee, and Seunghan were of course having a blast, this was already their scene, and they broke away from you to join in on the mosh pit when it formed. They even managed to convince Donghyuck to come along, and you couldn’t help but laugh as you watched the four of them disappear into the throng.

Sungchan had taken you aside before the show and told you to not worry about pictures or videos tonight, to just have fun with your friends. And you were, fully immersing yourself in the moment.

You excitedly hit the closest person’s arm—Jaemin—as the vocals stopped and tension rose in the song, knowing what was coming next. “Ahhh! Listen! Listen! Here!”

It was one of Sungchan’s drum solos, and you couldn’t hide your pride, gripping Jaemin’s arm maybe a little too hard as you jumped and cheered. As it finished out and the other instruments joined back in, you let out one last yell of Sungchan’s name, and he threw his head back to shake his hair out of his face, shooting you a grin and a wink.

“Y/N!” Jaemin yelled from next to you.

“Yeah?” You replied just as loud, still half-watching the performance.

“He’s really good, but I think you’re going to make my arm bleed!”

“Shit! Sorry!” You let go of where you had been unintentionally digging your nails into his forearm in your elation, and he rubbed his other hand over the skin.

“It’s okay.” He patted your back, a twinkle in his eye as he looked at you. “I’m having fun.”

“Good!” You beamed, giving his arm a kinder squeeze this time.

After the concert, the others all went back to Anton’s place to drink and continue catching up—you again were surprised when your four friends accepted the invitation that had been extended to them. But Sungchan waved them off, saying he was worn out from the show.

Since the others had taken the van, you and Sungchan were left to walk home, which you didn’t mind, their apartment was just a fifteen-minute walk from Venue:Hell, and the night was cool and clear. Your path took you along the riverfront, and you pulled on Sungchan’s hand to stop at the railing overlooking the water. The lights shimmered along the dark, rippling surface of the water, and you took a deep breath of the crisp air.

Sungchan pecked your temple, letting out a sigh against your head before letting go of your hand and moving to sit down on a nearby bench. He let out a deep-held groan as he lowered himself to sit, resting his elbows on his knees.

You turned around, leaning back against the railing to watch him. “Do you want to go straight home? I know you said you were tired…”

“No, it’s okay, baby. It’s nice out here,” he reassured you, and his tone didn’t make you think he was lying about that, but there was still something that was bothering you.

“Is something wrong, Sungs?” You questioned. “You’ve been… off since soundcheck.”

“It’s being back home, made me realize that it’s going to be over.”

“Aw, you’ll go on tour again.” You pushed off the railing to close the space between you two, cradling his head to you and kissing his hair. “I know you will. You guys are only going to do bigger and better things.”

“Thanks, baby.” He wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing his cheek against your middle. “But that’s not what I was talking about. I meant being with you all day every day, getting to see you be our badass manager and stuff.”

“Ah, Sungchan…” You cooed again, rubbing his back. “I’m going to miss this too. I think this was really good for us, being able to spend time together like this, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I’m so happy that you invited me to come with you, that I’ve been able to really see what you do and do this incredible thing with you, even if it kind of terrified me at first. But I don’t think that working together like this all the time would be sustainable for our relationship long-term.”

He let out a loud, drawn-out sigh. “Yeah… You’re right. You’re always right.”

“So you keep saying,” you replied humorously. Your voice turned soft and serious again as you added, “I’ll always be there supporting you guys; don’t think I’m going to stop being your biggest fan. But I don’t want to risk this in the process.”

“Neither do I.” He kissed your stomach through your shirt, making you giggle at the ticklish feeling. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Sungs.” You kissed his head again. “And tonight also made me realize something else too.”

“What’s that?”

“As much as I’ve loved helping you guys out and being able to support you from behind the scenes, and I’m looking forward to spending the second half of the tour doing that… I also missed being able to just cut loose with the rest of the crowd and support you like that too.”

Sungchan looked up at you, a fond smile coming to his face. “Yeah, I loved seeing you have so much fun tonight. I want you to have the time of your life at every one of our shows that you’re at, not be working.”

“Then after this tour…” You pecked his nose. “I quit.”

He was smirking as he teased back, “Not if I fire you first.”

You couldn’t help yourself, cupping his cheek and kissing him. Sungchan eagerly kissed you back as one of his hands went under the hem your shirt, fingers on the skin of your waist as he pulled you even tighter to him.

You broke the kiss with another giggle, squirming and grabbing his hand that was under your top. “Your fingers are cold, Sungs.”

He didn’t seem offended by the rebuff at all, watching you fondly as you sandwiched his one large, cold hand between your own two slightly warmer hands in a futile attempt to warm it up. “Hey, have we done your something new yet today? We’re back home, it’s not a new city.”

You let go of his hand to check the time on your phone. “It’s almost one in the morning…”

“It’s not tomorrow yet until we’ve gone to sleep.”

“Alright,” you chuckled. “What are you thinking?”

“It’s a surprise.” He jumped to his feet and offered you his hand with a grin.

You took it without hesitation, letting him pull you down the empty sidewalks at a near-run. The two of you finally skidded to a stop at the back of a building you’d never seen before in your life.

Sungchan tested the door handle, chuckling when it opened easily. “He still leaves it unlocked.”

You didn’t question where you were, who Sungchan was talking about, or if you were allowed to be here as you followed him in, the door slipping shut behind you. You ended up in some kind of stairwell, and your boyfriend started taking you up. A few yellowed lights dimly lit the concrete stairs under your feet, flickering every so often, but affording just enough visibility that you didn’t think you’d trip and face-plant. You passed by doors that seemed to lead to the actual inside of the building, only marked with numbers indicating their floors. You reached the top of the stairs after floor four. There was another door, this one marked ‘ROOF ACCESS – KEEP CLOSED’ and propped open with what looked like a broken mop handle.

Sungchan pushed the door open without hesitation, leading you right onto the roof. While the building you were on top of wasn’t a skyscraper by any means, it was taller than the others in its immediate vicinity, affording an unobstructed view of the city lights at night, glittering and shimmering all around you. The air was cool on your cheek, but you were kept warm by Sungchan’s jacket. Leaning against the railing that went around the entire roof, you took your eyes off the view and looked up at Sungchan.

“This is great, Sungchan,” you said, feeling the persistent smile on your lips that was there whenever you were with him.

“Hold on.” He slipped off his backpack, and you watched with interest as he rooted around in it before bringing out a box. It was a box of hand sparklers, these ones in particular being familiar to you as the same ones you all had gotten a few stops ago to celebrate Shotaro’s birthday.

“I thought we used all of them,” you accepted them from him as he fetched a lighter from the bag before dropping it on the ground.

“Eunseok found one more box rummaging through a box of cables earlier.”

“So you stole them.”

“So I stole them, yeah.”

You took out one sparkler for yourself, and handed another to Sungchan. He lit yours first, the firework immediately sparking in front of you. A giggle bubbled out of you as you held the sparkler out in front of you, watching it until it fizzed out. Getting another two and turning to Sungchan for him to light, you realized he hadn’t even used his first one yet, his gaze resting on you.

“Hey, you didn’t light yours,” you nudged him.

“I was watching you, baby,” he admitted freely, grabbing you by the waist to kiss your forehead. “Trying to remember that forever.”

You shoved the other sparklers haphazardly into his hand before wrapping both your arms around him and burying your face in his chest. He chuckled, rubbing your back. You could feel the curve of his smile where his cheek rested against your temple. His hand left your back before you heard his lighter click and the familiar sizzle of the sparkler again. You turned your head just enough to peek at it over your shoulder, seeing that he was being careful to hold it as far out away from you as his long arms would allow.

When it went out, you turned yourself fully around in his arms, leaning back against him. He playfully pushed you forward with his body until the two of you were both leaning against the railing on your elbows, Sungchan caging you in with his arms and hooking his chin over your shoulder to see around you to light your next pair of sparklers.

You moved to draw a star in the air with yours this time, and Sungchan spiraled his around until they both went out. On your next ones, you held yours still as he seemed focused on writing his name. His went out a second before yours, and you laughed victoriously.

“I win!” You declared, holding your still smoldering sparkler.

“Oh, we’re playing the game now?”

“Mm-hm,” you confirmed. “Didn’t you hear my telepathic message?”

“Missed that one, sorry, baby,” he snickered, giving you a sweet kiss. “But I’d never forget your prize.”

Both of you held your respective sparkler still this time, watching the tiny pops and miniature explosions as they burned through. Sungchan’s went out right after yours, and you let out a huff as he waved his burned stick in the air.

“I won.” He didn’t cheer very loudly, with his mouth right next to your ear.

You turned your head, nose bumping into his for a moment, making the both of you let out a synchronized breathy giggle. Pressing your lips to his, you let your eyes flutter shut as you melted into him even further—if that were even possible. He moved his mouth against yours as if he hadn’t just kissed you a few moments before, teeth and tongue eagerly joining too.

He didn’t pull away when the kiss broke, affectionately nuzzling his nose with yours again. “Yeah…” he murmured, a content smile on his face. “I get it.”

“Get what?” You asked quietly, searching his eyes curiously.

“The sappy love songs, all the wars, carving things in trees, the locks on bridges, all of it.”

You pushed your forehead against his, unable to do much more past the insurmountable feeling of your heart about to explode. “That almost sounds like the start of a sappy love song right there, Sungs.”

“You think?”

“Sappy love songs, all the men who went to war, locks on bridges, all the tree barks carved with hearts,” you mused. “I’m no songwriter, but I think you can pull some rhymes out of that.”

He was grinning now. “And I promise the next time you hear it, it will be one entire sappy love song unto itself. All about you, baby.”

“Gah!” You clutched at your heart as you twisted enough to bury your face in his neck. “If I don’t die of an exploded heart before then.”

“I won’t let you,” Sungchan growled playfully, rubbing your back. “You’re stuck with me. We haven’t even done all that stuff yet.”

“Is going to war for me is on that to-do list?”

“Duh. Now who’s missing our telepathic messages?”

You laughed. “That’ll be a ‘something new’ for the history books.”

At the second to last stop of the tour, you had caught brief respite in a narrow spot backstage behind the curtains, careful to stay out of the way of the other crew members bustling about. Roses for Eyes were all either changing, eating, or otherwise hanging out before the show began, and you were in a rare moment of not putting out a fire or looking for smoke before one began.

“Y/N?” A voice that you’d only heard over loudspeaker announcements or in addresses to the entire crew came accompanied by a gentle tap to your shoulder. You turned to see the tour manager for the headliner next to you, snakebites spreading with the wide grin she was giving you.

“Yes, is there something I can assist with?” You stood up straight and at attention. She was usually so busy coordinating literally everyone on the tour that you’d never even had the opportunity to introduce yourself and talk to her one-on-one like this, surprised that she even knew your name.

She offered you one of the two sweating water bottles in her hand as she flipped up the mic on her headset. “Nayoung. I don’t think we’ve officially met.”

“No, but I understand, you’ve been very busy.” You accepted the bottle with a thankful head nod.

“So have you.”

You were once again amazed that she had apparently also taken note of any of what you were doing this whole time. Honestly, you were worried about being a nuisance—a band member’s entitled girlfriend tagging along on the tour, not even lifting a finger to help, and just making the entire crew’s lives harder sounded like a pretty plausible issue for her and her staff to have faced before.

“Thank you.” You bowed your head again.

“You seem like you liked it, you picked it all up really quick after being thrown in the deep end, you know.” She cracked her own bottle cap before lifting the drink to her pitch-black painted lips.

“I’ve really loved it all, actually. Not just supporting the guys, but the work itself, surprisingly enough,” you beamed fondly as you twisted your water open. “It’s totally different from what I used to do, so it’s been really awesome learning about it all. Your staff is incredible, by the way, they’ve been so patient with me whenever I’ve had questions and helping us out when we need an extra extra hand. Really, you guys have been fantastic, we couldn’t have done it without you.”

Nayoung lifted a dark eyebrow curiously. “So what’s this I hear about you quitting after the tour then? You and Sungchan didn’t… did you?”

“Oh, no no no,” you couldn’t help but laugh a little. “The opposite, actually. We agreed that working this close together isn’t a good long-term plan for us. But it was a good experience, and I’ll figure out a way to put it on my résumé.”

“Résumé,” she repeated with mild interest, giving you an avenue to keep talking.

“Yeah, better than just saying I was unemployed for two months when interviewers ask,” you chuckled. “Not looking forward to breaking out the pantsuits again when we get back, though.”

“Who says you have to?” She asked. “You’ve been exposed to jobs outside of an office, you know there’s other options. Did you like your old sort of job so much, despite your apparent dislike for the uniform?”

You faltered for a second in what had so far been a pretty light-hearted conversation on your end, your easy-going smile slowly dropping off your features as you became overcome with confusion. “I guess… that’s what I’ve always done. I know I’m okay at it, I can get a job like that again.”

“But you don’t have to. If you don’t want to.”

You looked down at your feet as you took a thoughtful sip of your water. “You’re right. I’ve… I didn’t even think of that. Thanks, Nayoung.”

“And once you polish up that résumé, send it my way, hm?”

You almost did a spit-take on her, covering your mouth as you coughed and choked down the water in your mouth. “Wait, seriously?”

“My whole crew’s loved you since day 1. I’ve kept my eye on you, and like I said, I can tell you’ve really taken to all of this. You’ve pretty much been informally interviewing for two months already. I just need the résumé.”

“Absolutely!”

She took out a business card for the event and tour management company, this one with her own number and email on it and handed it to you. “Here, when you’re ready. We do all sorts of local stuff too, by the way, we’re not just on the road year-round. There’s a lot of planning that comes before that part.”

You held the card with two hands, well aware that your eyes were shining at her. “That sounds perfect, actually. I will totally send my stuff to you. Thank you!”

“Look forward to hearing from you, then.” She gave you one last grin before snapping the mic back down into place on her headset and started off in another direction with purpose in her steps, already talking to someone else over the mic.

Sungchan found you still rooted to that same spot, looking down at the business card in your hands. He hesitantly grabbed your elbow, startling you from your happy trance.

“Hey, what you got there?” He peered over your shoulder at it curiously.

“Nayoung asked for my résumé,” you told him brightly, practically shoving the card in his face to show him.

He jerked his head back to actually read the writing, a big smile coming to his face as well as he held a hand up for you to high-five. “Congrats, baby!”

You hit his hand hard before throwing your arms around his neck, excitedly bouncing up and down even as you had a vice-like grip around him. He just laughed and hugged you back, doing a small spin with you that the narrow space behind the curtain would allow.

“We’ll just have to make sure all your future acts knows that you were our badass tour manager first,” he teased, smirking as he cradled the back of your head to kiss you.

You pressed your lips to his once, twice more before pulling away with the same wide grin on your face as before. “Oh of course. And hopefully one day, they won’t ask me who that is when I say that.”

His jaw dropped in mock offense as you went to give him another kiss on the cheek in apology, despite your giggles. He just scoffed and pinched your side, making you squeal. “Rude.”

“I’m kidding, Sungs, you know I’m kidding,” you leaned against him affectionately. “Like I keep telling you, you guys are only going to do bigger and better things. I’m going to be the one bragging that I was your first tour manager.”

“Pretty sure you have something even better to brag about,” he reminded you, and you could feel him practically puffing out his chest with pride. “But I’ll take it.”

As you were about to open your mouth to continue your teasing banter by acting confused about what he could possibly mean, something suddenly occurred to you. It didn’t seem like Sungchan had just stumbled across you backstage, or was even looking for you just because he wanted to see you—he had seemed to be on a mission when he found you. You pulled back enough to look up at him with a knowing frown.

“Did you need something, Sungs?” You questioned.

“I didn’t need anything but to see my beautiful, awesome girlfriend.” He put a defensive hand over his chest, then added, “But Shotaro lost his in-ears again.”

“Of course,” you sighed, beginning to detangle yourself from his grasp. “One more night of this, huh?”

⤷ masterlist

[sector38]

From Sector: 38

Entry: II

After my last "encounter," my mind was made – I couldn't just sit at the edge of the sector staring out at the abyss – a hunger had made itself a home inside of me, nested under my bosom and in between my ribcage. For what it was worth, I could now say I was the proud owner of a brand new sector pass (actually in date this time), meaning I could also now apply for a real job. Before, it felt like I was wading through murky waters devoid of a lighthouse: without any sense of direction or purpose, but now I knew where I was going, who I was to be, and what I was to become – a xenologist.

It wasn't the easiest job. When I told my friends, they outright laughed. Sure, the world wasn't what it used to be – fancy bits of laminated paper were all lost to the flood – but that didn't mean that anyone could just walk in with zero qualifications, no questions asked. This was especially so for jobs that didn't exist pre-flood (including but not limited to, you guessed it, xenology). Before, if the job existed, maybe I would have gone to some elite university and collected my certificate that, for some reason, was meant to equate four years of my life, with a smile – now, we had the circuits.

On the bright side, it was a shorter process, 6-12 months if you survived that long and shorter if you didn't. I didn't know the process that well (sue me), but I knew that I would be starting at the outer tier, maintenance (glorified clean-up crew) and working my way in, each stage more deadly than the last until finally I reached the core, or as its more commonly known, "The Arena." I could never just choose the easy path.

I knew I should have been nervous, but... I just wasn't. I guess after the encounter, it was hard to feel like I hadn't been given some top-secret information that put me ahead. I hadn't really had the time to think about it, or I did, but there wasn't really much to say or do. It wasn't like I could tell anyone – I don't know what would have been worse: them not believing me or their faces of disgust.

When all countries were dissolved, you'd have liked to think everyone would lose their patriotism (you know, considering there were no more countries to worthlessly devote themselves to) – wrong. The world became one big country, one metaphorical empire ruled by the human race. This meant anyone or anything not of the human race or not subservient to the human race (like my neighbour, Julie's pet squid) was technically considered an enemy of the state.

Wait, did I fuck a public enemy?

First-day jitters were nothing in comparison to whatever I was feeling, especially considering this wasn't even my first day more like a very short tester solo shift - in all my time on sector 38 I'd never felt seasick (probably because the plates don't move) and yet here I was suddenly greatly empathetic towards the poor souls who found themselves violently ill holidaying in pacific waters. I could barely walk straight, my legs felt like jelly, and my stomach was so heavy I genuinely wondered if I'd swallowed an anchor between breakfast and lunch.

Even now, i still don't understand why i was alone during my tester shift? I get that it was just three tasks, but typically, unless you're a high-level, you're not to be left alone - always followed by a superior. Still, as i said, it wasn't even like I was going to be doing much, according to the alerts who sent me my assignments the night before my shift

. Stack the crates

. File away medical instruments

. Clean the pods on deck Xv_2

Pretty standard stuff, to be honest. If i cared half as much as i should, I'd be outraged that they gave me such menial work - but i didn't, so i wasn't. All i cared about was getting to see more of them, speak to them, and understand them, and the only way to do that was to become a xenologist.

At that point, I couldn't care less about hierarchy and ranks - i didn't understand the tangled web of beurocracy or how clearing badges worked, well not until I'd spent less than five seconds on the deck and i was promtly told

"Attention!"

The wooden crate I'd be carrying dropped to the ground with a hollow thud, the solid wood colliding with the metal flooring, making an awful cacophony. I looked up at the figure and saw a man dressed in a black suit with a white under shirt and black tie, on his black hair sat snug a white naval cap and across his chest a number of metal pins. He looked at me expectantly, i hadn't been told anyone else would be on shift as far as I knew I was supposed to meet my peers next week.

While trying to carefully stack the box in the appropriate space, I gave an awkward smile

"Hi"

Somehow, in a moment, his face grew colder, from freezing to a subzero tundra in an instant - I could tell he wanted to say more, to reprimand me, put me in place - but promtly his alarm sounded on his right wrist.

He left without a word, his face coloured with urgency.

To say I was confused would be an understatement. In the new world, the navy took on a more active role with the marines following suit to a lesser degree and the army taking the least precedence out of the three - so seeing a navy officer wasn't unheard of or even uncommon, but a lieutenant?

It just didn't make any sense, especially considering my work for today was entirely made up of menial tasks - and the look on his face as he left or even before that when I greeted him? I'm not in the navy, clearly so why what was he expecting me to do? Salute? Bowe? Kiss the ground beneath his feet?

It didn't matter, I told myself, i quite literally had one job: keep my head down and become a certified xenologist...well, aside from cleaning the pods on deck.

After stacking the last of the crates and refusing to give into my temptation of opening them, I set about trying to look for the ever elusive deck Xv_2

I mean, would it have KILLED them to give me a map or something? All the corridors looked the same - eggshell cream walls with blue strip lights - every turn, every left, every right didn't feel like it was getting me any closer, to be honest, I wasn't sure if this was some sort of time warp zone, an after effect of some eldritch creature washed up during the flood.

Wandering through the halls, I passed numerous rooms with bolted doors and bright yellow signs with bold black writing, as if they were so afraid that someone might accidentally open the securely locked doors - aside from doors armed to the teeth I passed a myriad of people, i can't really use one word to describe them:

From white coats with slicked-back hair, needle-straight posture to black suits, black ties, white collars, and broze pins to white hazmat suits and black boots.

Like some sort of machine, my brain was fixed on identifying and categorising my colleagues (colleagues). Well, that was until I heard it, tapping against the walls

It was faint at first, easily missable, but then the sounds grew louder, the rapid patter of the metal walls surrounding me like rain against the window - except there was nothing to see, no visible trace of the source of the sound just the noise, just the polyphonic array.

If this was a film, the corridors would be dimly lit with no signs of life but my own heartbeat and panting breath ringing in my ears, but this is the real world, if anything the bright neon lights and the industrious workers who I chanced upon only led to an increase in my anixety - it was as though i was going insane, as though i was being followed

"Could no one else hear that?"

The noise was atonal and offbeat - seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once, bouncing off the walls like an echo. My eyes darted around the corners of the walls as I discreetly tried to turn my head to locate the source of the sound only to be met with nothing. Whatever it was, it was quick. It was just too quick, the persistent creature darting always just out of sight.

Finally, after what felt like a literal millennia, I ran into a steal door labelled

Xv_2

I pushed both the persistent scurrying aside and the absurdly weighted door - inside a dimly lit room with large cylinders attached to the centre wall. To call it a deck seemed overly gracious, with the sizing being more akin to an office space or a large storeage room.

As i walked closer towards the cylinders, I understood why they needed to be cleaned - they were filthy, dust coating them in an opaque sheild blocking any possible view of whatever was sealed within them.

I grabbed the tissue pack I'd hastily shoved in my bra before leaving the house and stared at the cylinders - there was NO way they'd be enough. A part of me seriously thought about using my top, but the thought quickly vanished when i remembered I did actually have to leave the facility without being arrested for public indecency.

And that's when i felt it, a brush of cold air against my neck, raising my hair and sending a shiver down my spin. Instantly, I dropped my tissue pack on the small table and turned around but only to be met by nothing, empty space. I stared out at the room for a moment as though someone or something would magically appear it would probably still have only been the second strangest thing to happen to me as of last.After sufficiently staring out into an empty room I turned back around...

The tissues were gone.

I looked down at the floor, nothing. Half baked thoughts swirled around my head as i looked around the room

"I could have sworn i- did i bring them? Yes. Maybe i dropped them on a crate? No, i had them when-"

Finally, i got on my knees searching underneath the desk in hopes that somehow they'd fallen and I'd kicked them under. It was so dark I should have brought my phone or a flashlight or something, as I lent further under the desk the space narrowed which, if i was paying attention i would have known.

But, alas, i wasn't - instead, my mind was still fixed on how i needed to be more prepared in the future and how i shouldn't have a phone if i wasn't going to use it because the last time I didn't bring my phone i got-

Cold.

Cold air against my bare thighs, that feeling again. Except this time the cold felt more real? The touch more weighted less like the air and more like a person?

I stilled against the feeling, with every passing second the pressure grew till i could shape the outline: a hand.

I tried to move backwards from under the desk but promptly the feeling of another hand splayed across my waist - halting any movement. The hand across my waist kept a firm solid grip, with the cold air seeping through my clothes and onto my skin as though I were naked whilst the other fingers which previously splayed across my thigh began to move, inching ever so slowly towards my upper thigh.

Maybe it was the confusion or remnants of my first (but technically not first) day jitters. Maybe it was a cocktail of both, but I found myself slightly pushing towards the unknown force. Whatever it was must have taken that as a sign because suddenly, the fingers brushed in between my inner thighs dangerously close to my knickers.

I didn't know who or what was behind me, no-one else was in the room bar me and with only one entrance and exist it would have be impossible for anyone to come in without my knowledge - especially considering how heavy the door was.

This couldn't be a who, I thought. It must have been a what.

The thought excited me, that familiar warmth spreading in my lower stomach now juxtaposing the icy touch of the creature - I couldn't help but let out a breathy whimper. The creature must have heard because, within an instant, its cold finger pressed against my clothed entrance. The pressure was barely there, barely feelable almost imperceptible but that's what made is to so maddening - what made me push back against it despite the very firm hand on my waist.

We continued our dance: me pushing backwards, aching and desperate for any sort of relief or solid touch, and its outright reluctance to give it to me aside from the arctic hold on my mid section I could feel myself growing wetter, throbbing in a hot aching want. If i was capable of shame at that point, I would have been berating myself for wearing white panties instead of a more concealing black.

The feel of the wet material sticking to me and the mystery surrounding the strange figure was getting to be too much, I'd tried to bite my glossed lips concealing more whimpers and moans but i couldn't hold back anymore. I began to rock back harder, sounds slipping from my mouth like condensation down glass till the monster showed me mercy.

A cool finger began to push into me through my now presumably clear underwear, the sensation of wet cotton and the icy appendage dipping into me making me moan all the more - but it wasn't enough. I began to beg, pleas falling from my mouth faster than my brain could protest.

Cold and wet dragged along my cunt so abruptly I hit my head against the desk but I was too aroused to care - slowly the figure dragged its icy dripping tongue against me, lapping up my desire through my panties and adding to the wet region.

The drag was devastatingly slow, and whilst the pressure was a reprieve from my previous torture, it was nowhere near enough, tears gathered in my eyes as I begged for more. Then, I felt the being give one final lick before spreading my thighs out further and removing its hand from my waist - I was untouched.

For a brief moment, i wondered if it had left me, alone and hungry, desperate for something more - thankfully, it didn't. Instead, I felt what seemed to be a light kiss to my upper thigh before my skirt was bunched up to above my ass. The suddenness of it all made my gasp like a scandalised southern bell -as though I wasn't begging to be fucked by a stranger (who most definitely wasn't human) under a desk at my first day at work- though rapidly my gasp morphed into a whine as I felt the monster slip underneath my shaking spread out thighs so that the back of its head might rest against the floor with now both hands grasping my waist and hips.

It began to lick into me (still over my underwear) with a passion that I've never known, the glacial touch contrasting the warm friction building. I began to rock and press down onto its tongue and in response it sucked and licked and fucked into me with its tongue.

I'd asked, begged for more and I'd gotten it but I've always been greedy, always been stupid and reckless and impulsive, always been bossy even when I'm on my knees and then was absolutely no different.

"Let me fuck your mouth"

Instantly as soon as the words left my mouth I felt it moan against me the sensation only making me want it more, carefully after giving a few more playful sucks it released me - somehow even with its cold presence when it left me, the room felt so much more glacial.

I slid out from under the desk my shaking legs doing very little to help me in this endeavour, but before i could turn around to face the entity hands covered my eyes, of course this did nothing in ways of stopping me from seeing but I understood the getsture and so I closed my eyes.

Once my eyes were closed, the figure rearranged our bodies like a jigsaw piece as though it and I were one cohesive being all while I was immersed in the faint scent of sea salt and rain-soaked earth emanating from the creature - the delicate nature of the smell, alien to the steady yet all-consuming auror of the beast - like the sky before a storm. Once again, it was pressed against the ground with the back of its head to the metal flooring, and I was on top of it, this time fully able to sit with a straight posture.

It slowly guided me with my eyes still closed to its mouth with my still clothed cunt at first gently resting against its lips not wanting to move before it was ready till I felt it place both its sturdy hands on my waist and force me to rock into its mouth slightly.

I began slow, moving backwards and forwards on its cold tongue, trying to find a starting rhythm before the heat that momentarily subsided rose in full formation. Its hands were everywhere on my waist, my hips, my tummy. Like it was pushing and pulling me down and up, away, and to. Then suddenly one of its strong arms was lifting me slightly off its mouth eliciting an unexpected whine from me whilst the other moved the lace fabric to the side before gently lowering me back onto its cold wet mouth.

The feeling was foreign, invasive, intrusive, like a virus spreading through my body overtaking each nerve and blood cell before leaving me powerless to resist or even the desire to. The cold spit-soaked tongue dragged perfectly against me like waves hitting against the rocks, never missing their mark. I began to ride into its mouth, eyes rolling to the back of my head as I felt a familiar pressure build within me. I was so close to the edge, to the beginning and end of bliss. I didn’t know what the creature was or if it was even capable of feeling pleasure in the same way I did, but the desperate movements of its cold hands, one gripping my waist and the other my boobs showed me I wasn't alone in my heightened arousal.

Pleas and cries spilt from my lips, each more nonsensical and crass than the last:

"Please, please, fuck I'll be so good, fuck, your mouth its so- so perfect, you're so good for me, fuck, just like that, right there-"

Till eventually like an electrical current, the feeling washed over me - like fuzzy static interferce my whole body sparked alite. Its cold hands pressed me down harder as my body spasmed, tears welled in my eyes as I tried to move away, the pleasure building to be all too much, the overstimulation becoming extreme - but its presence remained lapping up my cum from my wet, warm, throbbing cunt.

My legs felt like jelly as it finally allowed me to stand, my lack of balance definitely not helped by my inability to see.

"Can I open my eyes... Tap me twice for yes?"

I felt a press of cold lips against my neck and then temple, sending a shiver down my spine and a small smile on my face before opening my eyes and turning around to see

Nothing.

I looked around the room confusion growing clearer on my face - thoughts regarding whether I'd made the whole scenario up in my head beginning to take root - before I felt cold hands rest against my cheek holding my head tilted slightly upwards before I felt cold lips move again against mine. The kiss was dry, soft, and sweet, still smelling of sea salt and storms and in that moment my mind was still, at peace like a total oneness with the world, with the truth whatever that may be.

Warning. Warning. Emergency alert. Code Amber. Please isolate in groups immediately. This is not a drill. Repeat. Warning. Warning. Emergency alert. Code Amber. Please isolate in groups immediately. This is not a drill.Warning. Warning. Emergency alert. Code Amber. Please isolate in groups immediately. This is not a drill. Repeat. Warning. Warning. Emergency alert. Code Amber. Please isolate in groups immediately. This is not a drill.

[desi2go]

Prince and Princess

part one -- part two

pairing: prince Chan x princess reader

Warnings: forced marriage, royalty au, strangers to lovers, fluff

summary: When your parents engaged you with the prince of a neighbouring country, you flee. On your way you meet a handsome man...

author's note: Here is the part two of my little series! Have fun💕

To say that getting used to your new life was easy, is a lie. After your wedding day, everything changed. Temporary, for your honeymoon, you slept in Chan's room. It's not that you didn't like his room, it was big and so comfortable but whenever when both, Chan and you, were alone in the same room, there was this uncomfortable silence that filled the entire atmosphere.

He had always his back turned towards you, raising a wall between you and him, when he slept or acted like he was sleeping. But mostly you didn't even met him outside from dinner. He was always up and working when you woke up. And then, he came back late, too late so that you are usually asleep already. It was like he avoided you. The only time you saw each other was at dinner.

The first days after your wedding, he made conversation while eating. Well, perhaps only because your parents and his accompanied it. But as soon as they were on their way back home, he avoided you more and more. It was like there wasn't a time before the wedding. Like you were real strangers even though you had met him before in the forest.

Life in the castle was boring. All you did was sitting the whole day and waiting for the time to pass. You would die to read something just a small novel or anything else. But the boredom was killing you. And the loneliness. Just the maids accompanied you but they didn't know you and they strictly held their distance.

Chan didn't even show you around. Sometimes you just wandered around, not knowing where the heck you were.

Carefully, you knocked on the wooden door to Chan's work room. You didn't even know where it was, you had to ask a maid to lead you.

"Come in" he said dulled by the door. You entered the comfortable room with a large table in it. He was leaned forward, studying a map. His hair was disheveled and you could see dark circles under his eyes.

He looked up, surprised to see you standing there.

"Y/n. What can I do for you?"

"May you show me the palace, please?" You asked determined that you would bring him to leave this room for a moment.

He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. "I have important things to deal with"

You scoffed. "I am your wife. I'm not important?"

"Of course you are important too." He paused. "Just give me five minutes and I will show you around" You nodded excited.

Just some minutes later, Chan guided you through the hallways, stopping from time to time to show you a room. He showed you a room with thousands of different instruments. Surprised, you entered it to inspect the instruments.

"I didn't expect you to have a whole room with instruments" you exclaimed, grabbing a violin.

"Yeah. I quite enjoy to make music" he explained, following you into the room, sitting down in front of the piano.

"Really? My mother made me learn the violin. It was fun" you stated. Chan's hands traced the keys of the piano, gently pressing down to create the first tones. With quick fingers, he played with the keys, letting the room fill with clear and harmonic sounds. Impressed, you watched him. He had a massive talent.

"I'm impressed" you said when he stopped. "Thanks" he just answered, leading you out the room and in the hallway.

The atmosphere was better, like the first sun after days of clouds, you could finally see a bit of the man that you have met in the woods. He was still distant but know you could keep a light conservation going without much awkwardness.

At the end of your tour, he showed you the library. It was far bigger than yours at home and extended over three floors. You deeply inhaled the smell of the books, observing the hundreds of shelves. The big windows with their endless curtains complimented the room, turning it into a comfortable environment for reading.

"You like it?" He questioned, leaning against a shelf. "Like? I love it!" you exclaimed, running a finger over the wood of the shelf.

"I'm glad. You can read everything in here and even more if you want" he stated, a smile forming on his lips.

You frowned. "I am allowed to read? You don't think it's inappropriate for a woman?" you asked hesitant.

"Of course. Why should it be inappropriate?"

"My parents hated it when I read. A woman doesn't need this knowledge, they said" you explained, playing with the fabric of your yellow dress.

"Here, you can read how long and how often you want" he reassured.

"Really?" You couldn't believe it. You thought that he would hate it if you read, seeing it as inappropriate and unnecessary.

"Of course. You can start now if you want." He responded, signaling to the shelves filled with thousands of books.

"I'll do that" You smiled, picking at your nails when you wandered through the aisles, reading the headlines of the books and deciding what you should read first.

He chuckled. "I'll leave you alone then. Have fun" he said as he left the library, probably going back to his work room. Excited, you picked a novel and sat down on one of the comfortable armchairs near the huge windows, the sun shining through.

For hours, you read and read. From time to time, you send a maid to get you something to drink but you never left the chair. It didn't take long before the book was finished. A maid, informed you just moments later that dinner was ready.

Hungry, you stretched, your limbs tense due to the sitting, and followed her into the dining hall. Chan already sat at the end of the huge table, clearly waiting for you. You sat down on the only other chair. The smell of the delicious food filled the room. Everything you could dream of stood within reach. Just Chan seemed to have fixed the wall of his cold prince behaviour. Or maybe his appearance in the woods back then was a facade and this was the real him.

He just confused you. He was respectful but distant. But earlier this day, you could feel the wall crumble and you could see Chan not just prince Christopher.

"Will you accompany me to our chamber?" You asked as soon as you finished eating even though you knew the answer.

"I'm sorry but I still need to work" he insisted and stood up, leaving you alone in the huge room that felt even bigger when the only one in there was you.

By now you knew what his father meant when he said that Chan likes to bury himself in work. Well, he wasn't just burying, no, he was working himself to death.

You layed in bed with open eyes, still deep in thoughts when you heard the heavy door open and Chan sneaked in. With a low sigh, he got into bed right behind you, the bed giving away under his weight and his arm touching your back. Soon you could feel his breath against you neck, causing a comfortable shiver. You rolled around slightly so that you could get a peak on the sleeping prince next to you. Even without light you saw his tiredness. Carefully not to wake him up, you brushed a hair out of his face. You liked him, a lot, if you admitted and you hoped that you will get some sort of friends at least in this marriage.

♕✯♛

Days passed and while Chan worked all day and nearly the whole night, you spend all your time in the library, making it you hobby to read every single book in there. Even though you were still lonely, you could at least distract you with reading. You wondered if Chan even thought about you.

His parents leaved you two alone a lot. Just from time to time, they accompanied both of you at dinner. You liked his parents. It was clear that both deeply cared for their son and even though they might not be in love with each other, they had a great relationship. And now since you were a part of the family, they felt like the normal parents you never had.

You were excited when they told you that you'll visit a town near the palace so that the people could meet you.

The following day, you sat in a carriage for the first time since you married. Chan was right beside you, looking out and deep in thought. Infront and behind the carriage at least four soldiers shielded you from possible attacks.

The dress that your maids made you wear, was uncomfortable due to the tight corset. Sitting was difficult and painful since the bottom of the corset pressed into your hips.

Chan looked fabulous. He was dressed in a tight suit with shining armour, visualising the picture of the perfect prince. The black colour of his suit made him look majestic and symbolised the power and strength he held. On his head was the crown, perfectly in place even after two hours of sitting in that damn carriage.

You couldn't wait to step out of it. You reached the outskirts of the town, people pointing at you when they saw you looking out. Hesitant you waved back. In the city centre, the carriage finally came to a halt. Immediately, you wanted to jump out but you knew that Chan was the first to step out, so you waited for your turn.

Chan held his hand up when you stepped out, not wanting you to trip. You grabbed it thankfully, already enjoying the sun on your skin. There was already a crowd that observed you curiously.

"Hello people, I want you to meet my wife, princess y/n" he introduced you. Many people smiled at you, waving and shouting a hello. He sneaked an arm around your waist, signaling that you belonged to him. He lead you through the streets, speaking with different persons. You could see that he loved his people and like to be around them.

A little kid came running up to you, tugged at your dress to get your attention. Carefully to not loose your tiara, you kneeled down, being now eye to eye with the little boy that couldn't be older than five.

"Your beautiful princess y/n!" He exclaimed, holding out a flower with the other hand.

"Oh thank you, little one. Is that for me?" You questioned with a smile. Proudly, he gave you the flower, a toothy smile on his lips. "Yes! I have picked it especially for you"

You couldn't help but laugh. This boy was just too sweet.

"I'm honoured. Thank you" you replied, ruffling through his hair. Giggling, the boy ran back to his mommy. You felt Chan's stare the entire time even after you slowly stood up. His face remained distant but his eyes were filled with a warmth and adoration you barely saw. His arm circled your waist once again as you continued your walk.

"The boy was so sweet!" You stated for the tenth time as you sat again in the carriage back to the palace. Countless times you had smelled on the flower, enjoying the sweet scent.

"Yeah, he was really cute" Chan answered.

"How often do you visit the towns?"

"Whenever it's possible. I love to be under the people"

You smirked. "I noticed that".

"That's why they all looked at you so respectfully when we were at the market!" You added.

He rubbed his neck and adjusted his position.

"Yes, they all knew who I was"

You wanted to ask him why he didn't reveal his identity when you first met. But you feared that this wasn't the right time and he would just block off.

♕✯♛

Another day passed and you decided that you'll take your relationship with Chan into your own hand. With a book from the library, you stood in front of his working room. With a deep breath, you knocked determined. Again, Chan mumbled a come in. Like last time, you studied something on his table, observing you from his spot. His hair fell in his face the way he was bend over the wooden desk.

As always, he looked tired. You didn't want to know how much he had slept last night.

"Can I do something for you?" He questioned, pushing the sleeves of his white chemise up.

"Actually, I thought I could accompany you while you work" your voice became thinner at the end, fearing a rejection. Surprise took over his face and a wide smile appeared.

"I don't mind at all. Please, make yourself at home" he mentioned to the little couch on the other end of the room.

For hours, you were completely zoned out while reading. And you loved the thought of someone being there even if no words were exchanged. It felt like you weren't so alone anymore, like you found something that you could do with Chan.

Right on time, you dragged him to dinner even against his will to work more. The evening was filled with comfortable chattering and after dinner, you urged him to play chess with you.

"Are you sure you want to play against me? The chess champion?" He questioned teasingly.

"You need to win against me before you coul actually call you a champion." You responded, starting the game.

After a few moves, it was clear that this will be a head-to-head-racing and you definitely won't let him win, not under any circumstances. Sometimes he did a great move and sometimes you. But at the end it was clear who the actual champion is.

"Who is the champion now, huh?" You teased when you did the winning strike and knocked over his king.

He sighed disappointed in himself but clearly amused.

"Alright, I think that's enough of chess now" he said.

"Say it" you urged him.

"I think it's time for bed" he tried to distract.

"Say it!" You exclaimed while laughing.

"You're the champion. Satisfied?"

You hummed in agreement, following him into your room. After changing, both of you jumped into bed. It was the first time that he really went to bed when you were still awake. And you were delighted that he didn't work in the middle of the night. Surprisingly fast, you fell asleep with a smile on your lips.

The next morning, you woke up from the sunlight, trying to move away from the brightness. But instead something held you in place. You snapped your eyes open, seeing that Chan had draped an arm protectively over your waist and his legs were tangled between yours. Carefully you looked down to get a better look. His face layed on your shoulder while his face was hidden between your neck and hair, his hot breath hitting the skin. Little snores escaped him.

It was the first time that he still slept when you woke up. Usually, he would be sitting in his office at this time but the sleep seems to be necessary.

After thirty minutes, you needed to go to the bathroom urgently. You thought that he would eventually wake up soon after you but Chan still slept. Slowly, you tried to roll away, detangling your legs. But he just tightened his grip, pressing his head further into your hair to get away from the sunlight. You chuckled, pushing some of his hair away.

He grumbled as you tried waking him by brushing over his silky hair. Eventually, he rolled over, letting you escape. After a quick run to the bath, you sat in one of the armchairs, reading the next book while watching over your husband.

Slowly, he rose from the bed, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

"Good morning, Christopher"

His eyes fixated you, his hair dishevelled and all over his face, yet he looked absolutely handsome.

"To you as well, y/n" he answered, getting out of bed.

"Before I forget it. Tomorrow evening we are supposed to attend a ball from an influential lord" he added before leaving the room.

♕✯♛

"Who is this lord?" You asked your husband on the way to the ball. Again, you sat in a carriage, clearly annoyed from the back and forth after over an hour.

"He is a friend of my father. Every year, he hosts a ball" he explained.

Anxious, you fiddled with the fabric of your midnight blue dress. Slowly it becomes a habit. You hated crowds and a ball was something you hated with every fibre of your being. It was like you were served on the silver plate for everyone to look at and to judge. One wrong move and the whole society will know it by the next morning, making fun of you.

You were now crown princess and the attention you are getting just doubled. Luckily, you could cling to Chan the whole evening, being like a dog, following around.

Like a gentlemen, he got out of the carriage as soon as it stopped in front of the pompous resident, helping you out. You clinged to his arm as he lead you to the entrance. Just shortly after you entered the ball, he was busy with holding conversations to different types of people. But one thing they all had in common. They were willing to kiss Chan's shoes even if it just brought them a small advantage.

After the luxurious dinner, the lord spoke with you. He was an elder man who eyed you from head to toe. Even though your dress wasn't revealing anything, you felt naked and insecure in his gaze. He theoretically undressed you just with his eyes. Your grip at Chan's hand doubled, holding him and hoping he wouldn't let you alone with him.

Currently, he was speaking to said lord, laughing quietly at the joke that wasn't even funny.

"I must say that you have a really beautiful wife, your grace. I bet she fulfills all your desires" the lord said, laughing loudly.

Chan face darkened when he realised what the old man said. All his expressions hardened.

"Beg your pardon?" He snarled. His arms circled your waist, reassuring you that you wouldn't be left alone.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to be disrespectful in any way. She just seems to be the perfect little wife" In the lord's eyes sparkled lust and desire. You shivered uncomfortable.

"Lord, it was a pleasure to speak with you" he excused both of you, underlining the word wife and leading you outside.

"He is creepy" you mumbled, when you stepped out of the resident.

Chan just hummed in agreement, clearly offended and angry.

"I'm sorry that I didn't stop him earlier. I-"

"It's okay. Thank you for even stepping up for me" you interrupted him. He clenched and unclenched his fists.

"It's not. You are my wife. He shouldn't even think about that in the slightest. And I was oblivious at first. I should have protected you" he exclaimed. You tried to calm him with running your fingers over his arms, feeling the tension in his muscles.

"You protected me, Christopher. I know I'm safe with you" you said calmly.

"Don't call me that" he said tense.

"What? Why? But it's your name." You questioned confused.

"Because I like the way you said Chan to me in the woods. And it reminds me of the first time, I saw you" he mumbled, his sparkly eyes reflecting the moon. The tension was leaving his body. Slowly you wandered through the maze out of the prettiest flowers.

"Chan..." You whispered, halting in the middle of the maze at the beautiful pavilion filled with flowers. Just the moon accompanying both of you.

His eyes finally flicked towards your face, your eyes.

"I never met anyone like you, Y/n. It's maddening how much you consume my very being from the moment I met you not knowing who you are."

His eyes wandered down to your lips, tracing the form of them with his gaze.

"All I can think about is you. And I want to be nowhere except with you" he added. He bared everything to you, gave his heart in your hands. You didn't find any words that could describe your feelings for him. Tenderly, you placed your hands on his cheeks.

"I won't go anywhere. I'll stay" you whispered and he closed his eyes as he pressed his lips against yours. They felt so light against yours, so velvety. The kiss was completely different from the one you shared at your wedding. It's passionate and full of unspoken words.

Slowly, he moved his lips and deepened the kiss. Your hands wandered to his neck, caressing his smooth hair. His own fingers held you tight, kneading the skin on your waist.

He interrupted the kiss, laying his forehead against yours, your crowns crashing together on your heads. The distance he held was long gone, replaced with passion and tenderness. He opened his arms, hugging you tight as you layed your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"I was afraid that you wouldn't want me" he confessed. You lifted your head.

"Why that?" You were shocked. Why wouldn't you want him?

"You liked me as a normal man not the prince of a country"

You cupped his cheek again, loving it how he leaned into that touch.

"I like you as a normal man and as a prince. It doesn't matter what status you have. As long as you'll always be by my side" you whispered.

He chases your lips once again, pouring all he got into it.

♕✯♛

Tags: @50-husbands @intartaruginha