#if anyone remembers the pictures i posted of her sleeping against my mom's chest when she was a chick
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Backfire
Three Thanksgivings in the lives of the Hotchner family.
-x-
Hi friends, this is the third and final (for now) part of my Thanksgiving fic Backfire.
This got a little sadder than I initially intended, but I don't think that will surprise anyone.
This week has been...rough. But as ever I am grateful for this community and the distraction it provides from real life <3
-x-
Words: 3.7k
Warnings: Grief/Loss of a parent
Read over on Ao3, or below the cut
Somewhere along the way, Thanksgiving had become her least favourite holiday.
She’d felt the tension it brought the moment she woke up, torn from sleep by her hungry one-month-old, the baby girl demanding her attention almost constantly. Eliza was a clingier baby than Zachary had ever been, something that Emily would have once called impossible, and she was exhausted.
She yawns as she lays Eliza down on the changing table, a smile flitting across her face at the sight of the outfit, that had been bought by Penelope, that she was about to dress her daughter in. The swirling writing and cartoon turkey on the onesie so cute it made her ache.
Mommy & Daddy’s Little Turkey.
“You’re going to hate me when I show you these pictures in about 14 years, sweet girl,” she says as she picks up the outfit, rubbing the soft material between her fingers, “But you’re going to look so damn cute I don’t care.” She feels a rush of love sweep through her as she slips Eliza’s arms into the onesie, her heart aching at how cute her daughter looks. She picks her up and rests her against her chest, “You are the fucking cutest baby on the whole planet.”
“Don’t curse in front of the baby.”
She turns to look at her husband and smiles, rolling her eyes at him before she adjusts her hold on Eliza so he can see her outfit, “Am I wrong?”
He chuckles as he walks over, his hand on Emily’s lower back as he leans in to kiss her. He then stamps a kiss against Eliza’s head before he pulls back to look at them.
“I stand corrected, she is the fucking cutest.”
Emily mock gasps, “Don’t curse in front of the baby.”
Aaron shakes his head at his wife, but his response is cut off as the doorbell rings, quickly followed by Jack’s voice, the 11-year-old’s excitement clear.
“Mom, Dad, Aunt Jessie and Grandpa are here!”
She hears two sets of feet thundering down the hallway downstairs, Zachary always on the heels of his older brother, the 4-year-old always copying his every move.
Aaron feels Emily tense in his arms, her shoulders tight as she holds Eliza impossibly closer. He kisses her forehead and cups her cheek to make him look up at her.
“Remember sweetheart, we don’t have to do this. We can just send him home.”
She found Thanksgiving challenging when she was at her best, something that she definitely did not currently feel. It was the only holiday when they got together with Roy, who still tried to undermine her or make comments towards Aaron at every opportunity. Emily hated it, the tension the man brought into her home enough to make her skin crawl, but she put up with it. Her love for Jack and her desire for him to be happy and surrounded by family who loved him far outweighing her own dislike for a man who made a point of being actively rude to her husband.
Aaron had checked more than once if she still wanted to go ahead with Thanksgiving as planned. He’d even asked her that morning, his arm around her shoulder as she fed Eliza whilst it was still dark outside, a serious look in his eyes as he said he’d uninvite Roy at any time, right up to the moment he stepped foot on the porch. She’d insisted she was fine, that she wanted things to be as normal as they possibly could, but as she watches the clock tick closer to the time Jess was supposed to arrive with Roy, she wonders if she had made the right decision.
Not only was Emily only a month post-partum and still getting used to having a newborn again, the four years since she’d done all of this with Zachary feeling like both a lifetime and a blur all at once, but it was the first holiday since her mother had died.
Emily was working when it happened. Regulated to the office at almost 8 months pregnant, her bump pressed against her desk as she looked over paperwork she was struggling to focus on. Her phone screen lit up with an unknown number, and dread she still didn’t understand flooded her veins. Her instincts that something was wrong kicking in before she even answered the call and listened as a stranger whose voice she’d never forget told her that Elizabeth was critically ill.
Aaron had been away on a case at the time, something she knew he still felt guilty about as if him being at home would have changed anything. He’d flown back to her as soon as he could, putting her and their family above his job, a lesson he’d learnt the hard way with spilt blood and tears. He’d held her hand as she made the decision to take her mother off life support, the roll of her baby girl in her stomach feeling displaced against the repetitive beeps of the machines around them, and her mother’s cold hand.
Emily wondered if things would feel different if her relationship with her mother had been a good one. If they’d had the type of relationship she knew she had with her children whether she’d feel different. Grief was complicated, she knew that, it wasn’t linear or easy. But she sometimes thought her chest wouldn’t feel like it was hollowed out if she had more good memories of her mother to fall back on, if all of her favourite moments with her hadn’t all happened since she’d become a mother herself. Elizabeth may never have been the mother Emily wanted or deserved, but she was an excellent grandmother.
On some level, she was jealous of the relationship the boys had with Elizabeth, an emotion that made her feel so guilty it made her feel sick. She wished that she could miss her like Jack and Zachary did. They had no complication in their grief, no caveats. They just missed her.
Emily was angry. Furious that her mother had been capable of being the person she’d needed all along, and sad that Elizabeth had never chosen to be like that for her. She missed both who her mother was and who she could have been, the old adage that ‘two things can be right at once’ as infuriating as it was correct.
She sighs as she shakes her head, “No, we can’t send him home, honey. He’s Jack’s grandfather, it’s Thanksgiving,” she turns her head to kiss his palm, “We can’t send him home. Plus, that would mean Jess would have to leave too and I love spending time with her, and so do the boys. And she cooked the turkey this year so we’d have no food.”
He smiles at her and leans in to kiss her softly. He knew that she was making the decision she thought was right for everyone other than herself, her own comfort was always her last priority. He doesn’t want to argue with her though, and doesn’t want to push her when he knows she’s already more delicate than usual, something she wouldn’t thank him for pointing out. So he steps away.
“I’ll go let them in,” he says, his smile so loving it warms her from the inside out, “You come down when you’re ready.”
She nods and smiles gratefully, turning all of her attention back to Eliza the moment they are alone. She smiles at her little girl.
It may be her first holiday without her mother, but it was also her first with her daughter and she wanted to enjoy it as much as she could.
“Come on Eliza,” she says, kissing her temple, “Let’s go see the grumpiest man to ever exist,” she pauses, smiling to herself as she kisses her daughter again, “And before you ask,” she says as she starts to walk out of the nursery, “I don’t mean Daddy.”
___
“That was the best Thanksgiving meal I’ve eaten in years,” Roy says as he sets his knife and fork down on his plate, turning his attention to Jessica, “That was delicious, Jess.”
“It was so good Aunt Jessie,” Zachary says, smiling as he sinks back into his chair, making his parents laugh as he rubs his belly, something he’d clearly picked up on someone else doing.
“Thanks, Zach,” she says, smiling at the young boy she considered her nephew just as much as Jack before she turns to Roy, “And thanks Dad, I’ve never cooked a whole turkey before so it was quite the learning curve.”
Aaron smiles as he puts his arm around the back of Emily’s chair, taking a quick peak at Eliza who was fast asleep against her mother’s chest, “We really appreciate you cooking, Jess,” he says, “I don’t think we could have managed it.”
“Oh don’t worry,” she replies, “You have a new baby and have to chase my nephews around, I can handle doing the cooking.”
Roy mutters something under his breath, but Emily doesn’t quite catch it because Eliza starts to cry, the brief reprieve she’d given them so Emily could eat, all be it one-handed whilst she held her daughter, is already over.
“Oh sweetheart,” she says, already moving to stand up so she pace, the movement one of the few things that soothed her, “You’re okay.”
Jack stands up too, beating Aaron to it, as he offers help, always keen to be the best big brother he could be, “Do you need me to go get one of her pacifiers, Mom?”
She sees a flash of something across Roy’s face. It’s an echo of a moment a few years ago when it was Zachary’s first Thanksgiving, his tiny face covered in mashed potato as she tried to wipe him clean, and Jack’s innocent comment aimed at his younger brother, the name Momma slipping past his lips without real meaning. He’d still called her Emily back then, the use of the moniker for his little brother’s benefit more than anything, the then baby on the brink of saying his first word.
Jack had switched to calling her Mom a year ago. It felt like it had happened overnight, something that felt natural and wonderful all at once. He still called her Emily in front of Roy, something she knew he did to prevent his grandfather from getting upset, all of the comments he’d made over the years always lingering in the back of his mind. The empathy her eldest was capable of never failed to blow her away, his kindness so much a part of him that she sometimes worried one day it would be something that people would take advantage of. It’s a slip-up Jack doesn’t even seem aware of, his smile soft as he looks at her.
She looks back at Roy, and watches as Jessica stares at her father, a fierce look in her eyes that has almost no effect.
“That would be lovely, Jack,” Emily says, turning her attention back to her eldest son, wanting him out of the room before anything was said, “The clean ones are in the kitchen,” she says, and Jack nods before he runs out of the room. Emily looks at Zachary. Usually, the frown on his face, the one that made him look identical to Aaron, would make her smile, but it makes her chest get tight, the thought that her son was picking up on the tension in the room enough to make her cry, “Zach-”
Her attempt to get him out of the room, to distract him by suggesting he go to the den and played with his toys, is cut off by Roy.
“What did he call you?” He asks, his jaw tight as he glares at her, and any usual defiance she has against the man is nowhere to be found, the crying of her baby in her arms, the absence of her mother and the usual jibes she’d throw at the man, setting her on edge. “How many times do I have to remind you that you’re not his mother?”
It was something that had come up time and time again over the years. Roy’s desire to keep his daughter's memory alive so misguided he didn’t realise he was going against what she’d wanted - for her son to have exactly what he had now.
“Roy,” Aaron starts, his protective instincts kicking in, but he isn’t given the chance when Emily cuts over him
“You know what, Roy,” Emily says, shaking her head at him, a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob catching in her chest, “I don’t have the energy for this. I need to go feed my baby,” she softens when she smiles at Zachary, “Want to come with me to go feed your sister?”
Zach nods, slipping out of his chair and walking over to his mother, avoiding eye contact with everyone else as he reaches her side. Emily adjusts her hold on Eliza to make sure she’s secure against her with one arm and she reaches down to hold Zachary’s hand. She leads him out of the room and she doesn’t look back.
Aaron wants to follow her, but he knows she wouldn’t want him to, instead, he folds his hands together in his lap and looks at his ex-father-in-law, anger he hasn’t let himself feel in years bubbling in his stomach.
“You couldn’t just leave it alone this year?” Aaron asks, his eyes stern as he stares at Roy, “She lost her mother a couple of months ago.”
“How long has Jack been calling her mom?” Roy asks as if Aaron hasn’t spoken, staring him down. It reminds Aaron of when he was a teenager and accidentally got Haley home after her curfew, the traffic on the way back from the concert they had been to worse than he’d anticipated. Roy was furious, yelling at Aaron for making his daughter late, for making him worry about her, and Aaron had promised it would never happen again, and that he’d always keep Haley safe.
It was a promise he’d broken without meaning to, the shattered pieces of his already tenuous relationship with his once father-in-law destroyed beyond repair.
“For a long time, Dad,” Jessica answers, sighing as Roy turns to look at her, “He’s called Emily his Mom for over a year.”
Roy frowns at his daughter, “You knew?”
She scoffs, “Of course I did,” she says, shaking her head, “I babysit all the kids, I love them all. And unlike you, I can see past my own grief over Haley to see how happy Jack is.”
Aaron smiles gratefully at Jessica and then he sighs as he turns back to Roy, “I know it’s difficult for you. But Jack came to this decision himself, he also wanted to make sure he did his best not to call Emily ‘Mom’ in front of you so he didn’t upset you.”
Roy all but growls, his frustration clear, “She is not his-”
“She is my mom.”
They all turn to look at Jack, the pre-teen standing in the doorway with a pacifier in his hand, his grip on it tight. Aaron stands and steps towards his son.
“Jack-”
“Mom was my mom too,” he says, cutting off his father as he crosses his arms over his chest, “But so is she,” he adds, pointing towards the stairs, “I don’t remember Mom, Grandad,” Jack says, shrugging his shoulders, “I miss her but the only things I know are what you and Dad and Aunt Jess tell me. Emily…Mom is the one I remember. She’s looked after me and she loves me. And that’s what a mom does,” he frowns, seemingly unable to stop now he’s started, the words he’d wanted to say since he was too young to understand them spilling out, “And you have to be nice to her, and to Dad, and to my brother and sister or I don’t want to see you anymore.”
His words settle around them and Roy sighs, “Jack, I’m just trying to make sure no one forgets your mother.”
“But no one has,” he says, furrowing his brow, looking so much like Haley that it makes the three adults in the room ache, “Dad is always telling me about her and you are. And even Mom does even though she only met her a couple of times,” he adds, watching as shock washes over his grandfathers face and he sighs, feeling some of the anger in his chest go away, “She asks Aunt Jess and Dad for stories so she can talk to me about her too.”
Roy looks at Jessica who nods, her lips pressed together, “It’s true.”
He sighs as he shakes his head, “I’m sorry,” he says as he looks at his grandson, “I didn’t know.”
“You never asked,” Aaron says firmly and Roy nods, clearing his throat as he avoids eye contact. Aaron looks at Jack and smiles at him, “Why don’t you go find everyone else? They’re probably in the nursery.”
Jack hesitates for a moment, but he nods, turning and leaving the room as quickly as he’d entered it. Aaron looks over at Roy and sighs, his hands on his hips as he looks him up and down. He’d always allowed his anger when it was aimed towards him, partially because it felt like a punishment he deserved. A penance for failing Haley and by extension Roy, But he also allowed it because he knew Roy was grieving, that he’d lost his daughter in a horrific way.
It didn’t take an FBI profiler to realise he was overcompensating to make sure he didn’t lose anyone else, his anger and his short temper were side effects of so desperately trying to cling on to what he had left of his daughter.
Her memory and her son.
“Look, Roy,” Aaron says carefully, “I can’t imagine how difficult it is, and I know we don’t particularly like each other,” he looks over at Jessica who smothers a chuckle with a fake cough, her eyes on the ceiling as she avoids looking at him, “But we both loved Haley, and we both love Jack. Surely the fact he’s happy, which is what she wanted, should be enough.”
Roy is quiet for a moment before he stands up, blowing out a steady breath as he nods slowly, “You’re right,” he says, clearing his throat, “It should be. And I’ll try to make sure it is going forward.”
Aaron smiles and relaxes a little, some of the tension in his shoulders finally easing, “Thank you.”
Jessica laughs again and shakes her head at herself when both men look at her, their eyebrows furrowed, “I’m so sorry,” she says, clearing her throat, “It’s just…wherever Haley and Elizabeth are right now, I know they would have got such a kick out of Jack telling you off, Dad.”
___
Aaron sighs as he closes the door behind Roy and Jess, briefly leaning his head against it before he makes sure the locks are in place.
“Long day, huh?”
He turns to look at his wife and smiles at her, opening his arms for her to slip into his embrace, “Long day,” he repeats, kissing the top of her head, “Where are the kids?”
“Eliza is sleeping, and Jack is reading Zach a book,” she says, smiling up at him, “So we might have 5 whole uninterrupted minutes to ourselves,” she says with enthusiasm as if she was talking about a lottery win or a luxury cruise, “Want to snuggle until someone needs us for something?”
“With you? Always,” he says, cupping her cheek and leaning in to kiss her before he leads her to the living room. They sit on the couch together and she settles into his side, breathing him in and letting his comfort wash over her, “You ok, sweetheart?”
She shrugs, because she’s really not sure how to answer the question, “I guess. I don’t know. She would have loved watching Jack tell Roy off.”
He chuckles, “Jess said the same thing,” he tilts his head to look at her, “You heard everything?”
She nods, her smile turning sad, “It was sweet. Zach heard too, and he asked me if it meant Jack was his real brother,” she says, her heart aching when Aaron sighs, his eyes closing as he shakes his head, “But I reminded him about Haley, how she was Jack’s first mom. He understands it all as best as he can.”
“I wish it was simpler sometimes,” Aaron says as he opens his eyes to look at her.
“I know,” she replies, reaching up and pushing his hair out of his eyes, “But if it was simpler, it wouldn’t be our family.” There’s a cry from upstairs and Emily groans, leaning forward to press her forehead into Aaron’s chest. “That girl is relentless.”
“Wonder where she got that from,” Aaron mutters and Emily pulls back to look at him, her eyes narrowed.
“What did you say?”
“I said, you stay here, I’ll go get her,” he says quickly, kissing her forehead and standing up.
She shakes her head at him as he leaves the room and sinks back onto the couch. She sighs as she looks around the room, her gaze locking on a picture from when Zachary was a baby that is framed and on the coffee table. In it, Elizabeth is sitting down with Jack on her left and Emily on her right, and a tiny little Zachary in her arms.
Emily picks it up and she traces her finger over the edge of it, smiling sadly at her own reflection that she can partially see in the glass. She looks at her mother, at the joy in her eyes, the happiness she would have once joked the woman was incapable of and she chuckles, her vision going blurry as tears gather in her eyes. When she speaks, it’s quiet, a secret just between herself and someone she isn’t even entirely sure is watching.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Mom.”
-x-
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Hey so this is random but could you do Jules seeing the pictures along with Hope and Lyall
Yes, I can! This is combined with the person who asked for Lily’s POV as well. Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!
TW for forced outing
Hope didn’t even register her mixing bowl shattering on the ground until the batter hit her bare ankle. The Facebook message was stark white, but those pictures…those pictures were dark, and yet so unmistakably clear.
Sirius was pale in the streetlight, a besotted smile at the edges of his lips as he kissed the other man in the car.
No, not the other man.
There was a besotted smile at the edges of Sirius Black’s lips as he kissed Remus. Remus Lupin, her son. His tawny hair stuck up on one side, as if he had taken his hat off mere moments before.
And they were kissing on the lips.
“Hope?” Lyall’s voice broke through her daze and she was suddenly aware of the small wheezing noises she was making. “Hope, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? I heard something break—”
She shook her head and grabbed his sleeve, pulling him over without a word; she pressed the phone into his hand and broke down sobbing into his shirt. Hope could pinpoint the exact moment he realized what those were—a shuddering breath rippled through him and he wrapped an arm around her back.
“Oh my god.”
“It’s Remus.” Her voice broke. “Our Remus.”
“Who took these?”
She shook her head silently.
“Mom? Dad? What’s wrong?” Jules sounded terrified. “Why are you crying?”
“Oh, baby.” Hope stepped over the shards of broken glass and enveloped him in a tight hug, placing a hard kiss to the top of his head. “It’s Remus, honey, something happened.”
“Is he hurt? Why is everyone crying?” His eyes were shiny when he stepped back and Hope swiped her thumbs over his cheeks.
“No, he’s not hurt.” How do we explain this? She glanced over at Lyall, who was still staring down at the screen in shock. “Julian, Remus is dating Sirius Black.”
Jules blinked. “Oh. Is that—is that a bad thing? Because you’ve always said it’s okay for two boys or two girls—”
“Oh, honey, no, it’s fine.” Another sob caught in her throat as she rubbed his shoulders. “But you know some people have a problem with that, right? And—and one of those people found out and took some pictures of them together and posted them on the internet.”
The glossy look returned to Jules’ eyes and he sniffled. “Why?”
Because assholes exist and they wanted to hurt my baby. “I don’t know, Jules. I wish I did, but I don’t.”
“Is Remus okay?”
“Probably not,” Lyall muttered, setting the phone on the counter face-down as he ran a hand down his face. Somewhere in the house, the landline was ringing off the hook. “We need to call him and make sure he knows we’re here for him.”
He vanished into the living room for a moment before returning with his cell phone and dialing Remus’ number. “Watch the glass,” Hope murmured as she guided Jules away from the broken pieces of her bowl. The batter had spread into a thin pool.
“Remus? Are you—” Lyall sighed. “Voicemail.”
“Leave a message, honey, he might be busy.”
Lyall waited until the beep before taking a deep breath. “Hey, Remus, it’s dad. Look, your mom and I just saw those pictures and we want you to know that this doesn’t change how much we love you.” His voice trembled for a moment. “Re, we are so proud of you no matter what. Please call us when you can. We’re worried.”
He sniffled as he ended the call and leaned back against the counter. Silently, Jules went over and hugged him around the waist. “It’s going to be okay, dad.”
“That’s my line, buddy,” Lyall laughed wetly as he ruffled his hair. Just as he looked over at Hope to continue, her phone rang, loud in the quiet kitchen; she walked over carefully and picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Hi, is this Hope Lupin?” a young woman asked. She sounded exhausted.
“It is, yes.”
“My name is Lily Evans. We met at the Lions Christmas party? I’m—I’m Remus’ friend.” She took a shaky breath on the other end of the line and Hope closed her eyes. “I got your number from him.”
“Yes, I think I remember you. Is it alright if I put you on speakerphone? My husband and son are here as well.”
“Yeah, yeah, of course.”
Hope pressed the button and held it out for all of them to hear. “Lily, is Remus alright? We tried calling him and he didn’t pick up.” She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “We saw the pictures a few minutes ago and—and we’re very worried.”
“So you did see them. Okay.” There was a heavy sigh. “I’m at Remus’ place right now, actually. My boyfriend drove him home before going to see Sirius—”
“They’re not together?” Lyall asked.
“Sirius…” Lily faltered. “I wasn’t there when they found out, but James said Sirius left the airport when he saw.”
“He what?” Fury sparked in Hope’s chest. “He left my son in an airport?”
“Where is he?” Lyall demanded.
“Sirius or Remus?”
“Both. Either.” He scrubbed his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry for shouting. Is Remus safe?”
“He’s safe,” Lily confirmed. “I made him eat and shower and he’s sleeping right now.”
“That’s why he didn’t pick up his phone,” Hope murmured.
“He actually turned his phone off,” Lily said hesitantly. “He almost had a panic attack when I suggested giving you guys a call. I’m going to be honest, he’s really not doing well.”
Hope reached over and gripped Lyall’s hand. “Does he know that we love him?” Lily was quiet for a moment too long. “Lily, does he know that we still love him?”
“I don’t think he’s super rational right now,” she said at last. “From what he told me, he and Sirius have been keeping this a secret for—for several months.” Her voice became thick with unshed tears. “They didn’t tell anyone, except for the two or three who figured it out.”
“Did one of those people take the pictures?”
“No. No, they would never. The whole team has been tweeting their support nonstop.”
“Will you let us know when he wakes up?” Lyall asked quietly.
“Of course.” Lily paused. “Thank you for supporting him.”
“Thank you.” Hope smiled through her tears even though Lily couldn’t see her. “Thank you for being there for him. He’s lucky to have a friend like you.”
Lily laughed softly. “No, I think I’m the lucky one. Your son is one of the best people I know.”
“Take care, Lily, and thank you again for calling,” Lyall said as Hope covered her mouth.
“It was the least I could do.”
As soon as the call ended, Lyall reached out and pulled both her and Jules in for a tight hug. Hope was tempted to book tickets to Gryffindor immediately, but if Remus needed space from them she knew she had to respect that. Be safe, she thought with every fiber of her being. Be safe, and know that we love you.
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Sweater Weather
part xiii
Please read the warnings for this chapter in the tags if you feel you need them. <3
Come down, the text said.
Christmas had been wonderful. Remus’ mother had made a perfect Christmas morning breakfast of pancakes and sausages and fresh orange juice, something Remus hadn’t even been aware he missed so much. Julian’s face had been priceless when he opened the Lions jersey with his own name across the back, Sirius’ signature sprawled across the number 24 on the back. He had missed having his family around. Cooking with his mom, talking and reading on the couch with his dad, shooting pucks in the snowy park and washing the dishes with Julian sitting on the counter, chattering away and drying them carefully. It was peaceful. It was home.
But he couldn’t get his mind off of Sirius. Remus knew he was safe and happy at the Dumais’. Logan was there, too, they were family. Sirius would have been welcomed at any of the teams’ houses, he was sure. But Remus wanted Sirius at his house. He wanted to see his mother trying to teach Sirius to cook, hopeless but patient. He wanted to watch his father moon over him. He wanted to see Sirius watch and laugh when Julian got sleepy after dinner, insisting that he wanted to watch a movie even as his eyes started to close.
He wanted Sirius there, on the couch, as the ball dropped to bring in the new year, while his dad popped champagne and Julian jumped up and down, throwing the paper confetti they had cut that morning. His parents leaned in for a soft peck, whispering an I love you, and Remus just—he wanted.
The text said, come down.
Remus’ heart drove into double time.
They’re getting ready for bed, he replied.
Take your time. I’ll be here.
Remus bit back a smile and clicked his phone off, holding it to his chest.
“I’m leaving some dishes to soak,” his mom said, coming over to kiss his cheek.
“I’ll do them in the morning,” Remus said. “What time does your flight leave?”
“Not until tomorrow evening,” Hope looked at him for a moment, then reached forward to push his hair away from his face. “Re, I’m so happy that…well, you’ve really grown. You look so much happier than…well.”
“I know,” Remus said. Since the accident, was what she meant. He smiled, squeezing her hand. “I am. I really am.”
“Happy New Year’s, baby,” she said. “I better go make sure your brother’s in bed.”
Remus laughed. “Probably wearing his jersey again.”
Hope laughed. “Probably.”
Remus watched, trying not to be too obvious about it, as she poked her head into Remus’ room where Julian was sleeping, and then disappeared into the guest bedroom. She waved once, before shutting the door. Remus forced himself to go into the living room and make his bed out of the pull-out couch, giving her time to get ready for bed.
He lasted ten minutes before slipping out the door.
Coming, he sent off, and received a few exclamation points and a short, parking lot.
Remus glanced back down the hallway as he quietly put on his jacket, pulling a beanie low over his ears against the winter air. The house was quiet as he slipped outside.
Sirius’ car wasn’t running, but Remus spotted it easily in the parking lot as he ran through the chilly night and knocked on the window. Sirius looked up and reached over with a grin, popping the door open. He was wearing a puffy jacket and beanie of his own, his hands covered in gloves.
“Hey there, All-Star,” Remus said as he hopped in and pulled the door shut behind him.
Sirius half laughed, half groaned. “Don’t remind me. C’mere.”
Remus leaned over for a kiss, pressing his hand against Sirius’ cheek. Sirius made a noise and pulled back a little, taking Remus’ hand into his gloved ones.
“What are you doing? It’s fucking freezing, Loops.”
Remus just leaned forward for another kiss. “Wanted to see you.”
Sirius sent him a mockingly disapproving look before cupping Remus’ hands between his own. Remus watched, heart flipping, as he leaned down and blew hot air over them, then kissed the cold-red knuckles.
“Better?” Sirius said. “Good thing we’re going to Florida soon.”
But Remus half heard him, too focused on the way Sirius was holding Remus’ hands, his entire attention on keeping them warm. Keeping Remus warm.
“Can we…” Remus glanced towards the back seat. “Just, this thing is sort of…” he hit his knee against the gear shift. “In the way.”
Sirius laughed. “Say no more.”
Remus grinned, and there was a brief blast of cool air through the car as both of them moved to the back seat, Sirius behind the driver’s side, Remus the passenger’s. Remus got in first, and watched as Sirius pulled his door closed, breath a puff of air. Remus scooted over, pressing up against Sirius’ side. Sirius said something quick and sweet that Remus didn’t catch, as it was mostly mumbled into a kiss on his temple, and wrapped him up in his arms.
“Bonne année, mon loup,” he said quietly into the small space between them.
“Happy New Year,” Remus repeated as Sirius’ gloved fingers tilted his chin up for a kiss.
“How long do we have?” Sirius whispered, lips trailing across Remus’ cheek to his jaw.
Remus felt his eyes slip closed, the tension of being away from Sirius releasing at having him so close.
“Everyone’s asleep,” he said, fingers reaching to tug gently on the zipper of Sirius’ jacket. “I think we have a few hours.”
Sirius made a pleased noise, pressing a quick burst of kisses to Remus’ cheek. “Good. How was Christmas?”
“Really good,” Remus said. “Jules practically died at the jersey. Lots of baking. What about you, how’s Dumo’s?”
“Why did I ever leave such close proximity to Celeste’s cooking?” Sirius sighed, and Remus laughed. “No, but it’s great. The kids woke me and Logan up at, merde, five? In the morning? Was nice though.”
Remus bit back a smile. “Saw that picture Logan posted of your matching pajamas.”
“I’m going to murder him.”
Remus snorted, leaning in for a kiss. Sirius obliged for a moment, licking sweetly into his mouth, before he made a noise like he remembered something.
“Speaking of,” he said, absentmindedly taking Remus’ hands and pressing them beneath his jacket and sweater, right to the warm skin of his stomach, he winced a little, but held them there. “Warmer, non?”
Remus nodded faintly, unable to find the words.
“Speaking of murder,” Sirius began again, and Remus burst out laughing.
“What?”
“Re, I found your tapes.”
“Oh?” Remus said.
“Fuck me,” Sirius said, followed by a flurry of French. He pulled Remus towards him and kissed him hard. “I…you’re so fast.”
Remus smiled faintly, looking down. “I was, huh?” He glanced up, raising his eyebrows. “And that relates to murder because…?”
“I’m going to die watching them,” Sirius laughed. “Fuck, Re. You make goalies look like they can’t see out of their fucking masks. How did I never hear your name?”
Remus took a deep breath in through his nose. This was the closest to telling the truth he had ever come but, looking at Sirius in the soft yellow streetlight coming through the window, he felt okay. It wasn’t the whole thing, and maybe he’d never be ready for the whole thing…but it was almost. Sirius deserved that.
“You know Greyback?”
Sirius blinked, obviously surprised. “Yeah. First overall the year before me. He’s on…what, Golden Knights now?”
Remus nodded. “Right. Well, we—we were at Wisconsin together. We played. Everyone thought we would be drafted together.” Remus shrugged a shoulder. “Fenrir didn’t like the sound of that.”
Sirius’ face melted into one of horror. He understood. Of course he understood. “He was worried you’d take first.”
Remus just nodded again, then tapped his left shoulder. “Busted me up pretty good for it. Enough to convince the League I’d never play again. This was, I don’t know, few months before. I’m not surprised you don’t remember. No one likes thinking about career ending injuries when their healthy. Totally normal.”
“Re…fuck me, the next time we play Vegas—”
“No,” Remus hit him in the chest lightly. “No, you will not do anything except beat him and his team.”
Sirius groaned. “Please let me punch him.”
Remus laughed. “No.”
Sirius leaned in, pressing a kiss to one of Remus’ cheeks, then the other. “Mon Loup.” Sirius pulled at Remus’ waist until he gave way and straddled Sirius’ hips, head ducked low in the space of the car.
“Mon Loup,” Sirius said again, softly. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Remus shook his head, kissing the corner of Sirius’ mouth. “It was a long time ago. It just…I didn’t trust anyone for a little while. Especially on the ice. It was easier like this, having the job I have. I’m in control. I’m there to help. Do I miss the ice? Of course. Every day. But I also really, really love my job.”
Sirius nodded, hands on Remus’ thighs, and Remus reached out for the number twelve necklace.
“Let’s talk about something happier,” Remus said. “This is a new year, you’re an All-Star, we’re probably going to the play-offs—”
“Non, non,” Sirius gasped, laughing lightly as he pressed a hand over Remus’ mouth. “Don’t say it.”
Remus laughed, holding his hands up in surrender, and Sirius soon replaced his palm with a kiss.
“We could have had an entire week off together instead of the fucking All-Star game, but…” Sirius groaned. “Don’t want to talk about that either.”
Remus ducked down and pressed a hard kiss to Sirius’ lips. “Okay, okay. Jeez, grumpy.”
Sirius, in contrast, made a delighted sound, and accepted the kiss. He went to tuck his fingers into Remus’ hair, but was instead met with the beanie.
“Cute,” he said, before taking it off. “Too cold?”
“Not a chance,” Remus breathed, his entire body heating up with Sirius’ touch. He pushed at Sirius’ shoulders a little, settling him into the corner between the seat and the door, so he could stretch his legs out, supporting Remus more. Sirius gripped Remus’ thighs appreciatively.
“I think the team finally gets how fucking hot you are,” Sirius said.
“Oh? Was that something you were hoping to discuss with them?”
Sirius snorted. “Non. Just…you’re—everything.”
Remus’ heart caught.
“I just mean,” Sirius said, his eyes on Remus’. “You save our asses every day, you help us. You are fucking talented as shit, and then, for me, you’re just…gorgeous. Mon dieu, Remus, you in the showers… if I hadn’t just come…”
Remus laughed. “Okay, enough compliments.”
Sirius shook his head. “It’s the year of compliments.”
“You’re too sweet for me.”
“No, I’m perfect for you.”
The words were true. Remus looked down at Sirius, soft in the streetlight filtering into the garage, and pressed his hands to his cheeks.
“I think you are,” Remus said softly, but that wasn’t good enough. He said it more firmly. “You are."
Sirius’ expression changed, laughter fading. They stared at each other.
“Remus,” Sirius said.
Remus’ thumbs stroked over his cheeks. “Yeah?”
“I don’t want to hide forever.”
“I don’t want to either.”
“But I’m scared. I’m scared.”
Remus nodded, kissing Sirius once, twice. “I know. Don’t feel like you have to do anything, okay? Sirius, I…I’m in.” Remus took a breath, kissed him again, short and hard. “I’m in with you, okay? No matter what. As long as you’re here for me, too.”
“I am,” Sirius whispered. “I always want to be.” He smiled then, nervous but real, and tapped Remus’ wrist right over the watch he had gifted him.
Remus smiled, too, and Sirius leaned forward off of the seat to kiss him with a small, almost desperate noise.
“One day?” he said.
“Name the date,” Remus murmured against Sirius’ mouth. “I told you I’d wait.”
Sirius laughed lightly. “No pressure.”
“No,” Remus said, and pulled back to raise his eyebrows at him. “There’s really no pressure at all. Really, Sirius. As long as…as long as I have this, you, these moments…I’m so happy.”
Sirius’ expression was a quiet one, lost in thought for the most part, and adoring. He rubbed a hand up and down Remus’ side, loving. “Come somewhere with me this summer. Anywhere. A trip. I don’t care, Paris, the fucking jungle, Seattle. I don’t care, I just want to be somewhere. With you.”
Remus’ face broke into a grin. “I want that. Yeah, let’s do it.”
Sirius smiled back, and it filled up the entire space, the small car, the world, Remus’ entire chest.
“Happy New Year,” Sirius said, and kissed him.
Later, as Remus stood and watched Sirius drive away, he tried to think of where he had been this time last year. Happy, yes. Happy with his job, and himself, and how far he had come. Just beginning to think about coming out to his family, but never getting around to it. Loved by his family, his friends, his colleagues.
This year was different. No words had been put to it yet, and Remus understood why. But that didn’t change how he felt.
This year, he felt loved in an entirely different way.
This year, he was in love.
~
After Christmas, after Gryffindor’s Decembers, Remus was more than ready for a little sunshine in Florida. The Tampa Bay Lightnings had swept the Penguins last year in the playoffs, giving them lots of credit, at least in Remus’ mind. He was excited for the game, excited for the sunshine—
“Well, I’m excited to see you in a swimsuit.”
Remus looked down at Sirius, who was mouthing at the cut of his hips, carefully and torturously avoiding his hard cock. His hair was a wild, morning-mess of curls, and his eyes were sleepy, mouth soft and warm. The sunlight was filtering through the large windows in Sirius’ bedroom, and they were alone for the first time in what felt like weeks. Remus missed Sirius so much he felt it in his veins, and he guessed Sirius felt the same. He had been woken up at five in the morning, hours before they had practice, by Sirius’ hand gently cupping his soft cock through his underwear, Sirius’ already hard one against his hip.
“Jesus,” Remus breathed. “You just asked to suck my dick. I don’t think there’s anything left to be revealed.”
“I disagree,” Sirius said and bit down gently on Remus’ hip, looking up with a devastating mixture of bold and bashful. “You’ll tell me what’s good, d’accord?”
“It’s all good,” Remus grumbled, settling a hand in Sirius’ hair. “‘m gonna come just thinking about it.”
“No, no,” Sirius pressed a kiss to the side of Remus’ cock. “Not yet.”
Remus let his head fall back into Sirius’ pillows, spreading his legs further on his massive bed. Sirius pushed his arms under Remus’ hips, letting Remus’ calves rest on top of his shoulders. He kept his hands firmly on Remus’ waist, warm and strong.
“I might suck, okay?”
Remus, cock hard and flushed against his stomach, gave Sirius an incredulous look. “You might?”
Sirius blinked at him for a moment, and then burst out in a laugh, resting his forehead against Remus’ hip bone. “I meant I might be bad at this.”
“Sirius, you laughing next to my dick gets me going.”
Sirius bit his lip, and then moved his gaze to Remus’ cock again. It was thick, even if not quite as large as Sirius’. Remus’ pale skin was flushed all the way down his chest from Sirius’ mouth and the anticipation. He was practically tingling with it. His cock twitched hard when Sirius, finally, leaned down and pressed his mouth to the base in an open, soft sort of kiss.
Remus pet his hand through Sirius’ hair, watching quietly. He liked Sirius like this, sweet and careful. He could tell how turned on he was, though, but the way his hips were gently, almost unnoticeably, rocking against the bed.
He was so focused on Sirius’ hips, that the hot pressure around the tip of his cock nearly took him by surprise. Sirius sucked hard, and Remus felt the blunt pressure of his tongue against his slit, too.
“Oh,” Remus breathed out, fingers tightening in Sirius’ hair.
Sirius pulled off with a soft sound, and Remus’ cock bobbed above his stomach.
“Good?” Sirius asked simply, and Remus laughed, eyes closed.
“Yeah, baby.”
Sirius hummed appreciatively, and then he sucked Remus down, farther this time, hands moving down to Remus’ ass, fingers digging into the hard muscle.
Remus let out a long, unsteady breath. “Fuck…”
Sirius moaned in response and Remus’ hips jerked up.
“Ah—“ Remus gasped. “Sorry, you okay?”
Sirius just looked at him, and Remus could feel the hard press of his tongue. He realized Sirius was looking for instruction. The thought made Remus even hotter. Sirius, so confident on the ice, a menace, really, taking whatever he wanted. And yet waiting for Remus to tell him this.
He eased a hand around the back of his head, pressed down lightly. Sirius’ mouth moved with him, and Remus’ dropped open, his breathing heavy.
“Go easy,” Remus said, realizing immediately that it was a mistake.
Sirius’ eyes darkened, accepting the challenge.
“Jesus Christ,” Remus had time to say before Sirius was pulling off again and getting his knees beneath him, propping himself up to get a better angle. He laughed at Remus’ expression as he retrieved his hands from beneath Remus’ thighs, letting Remus’ legs splay out on either side of his hips. He circled his hand around Remus’ cock. He jacked him a few times, drawing a dribble of precome out.
“Easy?” he questioned, and then bent again, lips brushing the red head. “Remus…”
Remus smirked. Sirius was smug again, brimming with confidence. Remus wanted both sides, and he loved that Sirius gave them to him so willingly. “Alright, do whatever you want, Captain.”
That pulled the arousal back into Sirius’ expression, and Remus could see his cock now, heavy between his legs and dripping onto the sheets. Sirius bent, wordless, and slipped Remus back into his mouth, inch by inch, until his lips met his fist and Remus’ breathing was shaky.
He dragged up, cheeks sucked in, and Remus let his head drop back on the pillows again, hands fisting the sheets.
“Of course you’re good at this. Is there anything you aren’t good at, Christ, Sirius.”
Sirius just hummed, making Remus’ hips jolt again, and reached for Remus’ hand, placing it back on his neck.
“Aw, baby,” Remus said, squeezing Sirius’ shoulder muscle and then cupping the back of his head.
Sirius’ fingers found Remus’ hips again, digging in and he moaned. Remus wanted to touch him so bad, could catch glimpses of his cock, stiff and needy. Remus relaxed into the rhythm Sirius was building up, mouth open at the wet glide around his cock. He ached with it, felt the pressure building in his core.
“I’m gonna come soon,” Remus said, widening his legs as his balls drew up. “Sirius…”
Sirius didn’t pull up, but sucked harder, twisting his fist around Remus’ cock while he tongued at the head.
“Fuck, you’re so—” Remus’ hips strained upward, head digging into the pillows as his back arched. “I’m gonna, Sirius, I’m gonna—”
Sirius moaned in a way that sounded negative, like he was telling Remus not to come yet. It made Remus gasp. Sirius sunk down again, splaying his legs so he could rut against the bed. He sucked in time to his own thrusts, his eyes shut. His cheeks had a dark flush on them and Remus’ cock pulsed as he tried not to come, as Sirius gripped him hard around his base. It prolonged the crest, the feeling of being just there but not quite. Remus felt like he was already coming, his breathing quick with it. The position showed off Sirius’ shoulders, muscles moving with every hard flex of his hips.
Remus’ back arched harder, and then he forced his hips back down on the bed. His balls ached with how good he felt.
Sirius pulled off with a gasp, panting with his cheek on Remus’ hip. Remus’ cock was shining with his spit and jerking as it pulsed out precome.
“Loops,” Sirius panted, and mouthed just above his own fist, sloppy kiss after sloppy kiss. “Fuck, okay, come, come for me.” he said, and trailed his mouth back up to the tip, sucking Remus down again.
Both of Remus’ hands went to Sirius’ head this time. Sirius held Remus’ hips, his own working faster now, grinding down in small circles. He pulled up to suck hard on the head, and Remus was finished. His hips jolted and he moaned as he came hard into Sirius’ mouth. Remus’ hands pulled at Sirius’ hair and Sirius kept him warm and steady for another moment, tongue gentle.
Sirius pressed his forehead to Remus’ hip again as his fist worked him down, grinding against the bed with small sounds that Remus swore were going to get him hard again.
“C’mere,” Remus wrapped his hands around Sirius’ arms, pulling him, and then pushing him, until he was settled on his back. Remus trailed his fingers up Sirius’ wet cock and Sirius closed his eyes. “What do you want baby? Anything.”
Sirius opened his eyes again and, without a word, gathered Remus to his chest. Remus came willingly, kissing Sirius’ neck and jaw, his cheeks and temples, anywhere he could reach.
“You’re so good,” Remus whispered as he ground his hips and sensitive cock against Sirius’ straining one. “That was so fucking good.”
Sirius made a low noise, arms wrapped around Remus’ back. “Re.”
“Come for me, baby,” Remus grinned. “And then you can think about me while you’re in the showers today, eh?”
“Oh fuck me,” Sirius managed to laugh, temples beaded with sweat as he rut up against Remus.
Remus felt that protectiveness flame up in his gut, familiar by now. He went back to kissing Sirius' neck, teeth scraping and heart leaping with the idea of leaving a mark that he knew he couldn’t leave.
“Je le veux,” Sirius said when he felt Remus’ teeth. I want it.
“This summer,” Remus breathed. “I promise.”
Sirius came between them, sudden and long. He held Remus against him, pressing his lips against his temple.
I love you, Remus thought for what felt like the thousandth time since New Year’s.
He kissed Sirius slowly, trying to pour the words out.
“Love waking up with you,” Sirius said, hands stroking down Remus’ sweaty back. His voice was scratchy and soft. “Watching you wake up, blinking and all that.”
Remus pressed his cheek against Sirius’ chest, listening to his heart. It was pounding.
I love you. I love youIloveyou—
Sirius’ alarm went off.
“Fuck,” Sirius laughed, and squeezed Remus tighter. “Shower? You know, the thing I’m going to embarrass myself in today after I get hard thinking about you.”
Remus grinned, cock fattening again with interest at the image. “That sounds nice.”
“Which one?” Sirius looked down at him, eyes on his semi. He reached for it, palming it gently. Remus’ breathing quickened again and he raised his head, doing his best to look innocent.
“Both.”
Sirius snorted, slapping Remus’ ass and rolling them out of bed.
~
Florida was just as warm as Remus was hoping it would be. Warm enough, and sunny enough, for the team to organize a beach workout.
“They call it a beach workout,” Logan said, throwing his hat down on a lounge chair so he could pull his shirt over his head. Remus eyed the fleur-de-lis tattoo on his left hip, a dark outline against his tan skin. “But it’s a beach day.”
“Sand sprints,” Kasey sighed, watching the waves and the rest of the team settle down in various rows of beach chairs. “Oh joy. Oh joy, oh joy.” He mumbled that to himself before discarding his shirt, too. “Yo, Loops, from one pale guy to another, wanna do my back?” He held up a bottle of sunscreen.
Remus really liked beach days.
“Sure, Kase,” Remus said.
“Sucks to suck,” Logan said, flexing his shoulders. “No burning here, baby. Can’t speak for freckles over here.”
“Hey,” Finn pushed his sunglasses into his hair as he threw his stuff down on the chair beside Logan. “Skincare is important.”
“I’m going swimming,” Leo announced, and shoved Finn in the direction of the water.
“Hey, Nut,” Logan snorted. “Ask Finn about seaweed.”
“That was one time, it’s slimy, and if any of it so much as floats near me, I’m done.”
Leo laughed. “I’ll protect you, Harz, come on.”
Logan stared after them, but didn’t follow. When he turned, he had put his own sunglasses back on, and Remus couldn’t read his expression. Logan sat down heavily on his chair. Maybe Remus would be able to find some time to get him alone this trip.
“Loops,” Sirius said, walking up to them through the sand. He looked gorgeous, baby blue bathing suit setting off his tan skin nicely. “There’s a chair with me, Talker and James, if you want it.”
“Thanks,” Remus smiled, trying to subtly check out the curve of his ass in the thin material. “C’mere, Kase, before I go.”
Kasey handed him the sunscreen and Remus squirted some into his palm. He sent another look to Sirius, who’s eyes were carefully blank, and smirked as he rubbed the lotion into Kasey’s sun-warmed, strong back.
“Aw, you’re just like Nat,” Kasey said. “Warming it up in your hands and shit, man.”
Remus laughed. “Thanks?”
“Always taking care of us, eh, Loops?” Sirius said.
“I do my best.”
The entire beach was crowded, and some girls in the tiniest bikinis Remus had ever seen asked for pictures with a few of the guys—Thomas the most popular—but other than that, everyone was relaxed and enjoying the much needed break from the brisk winds of Gryffindor.
Remus was on a chair between Sirius and Thomas, chin tilted up towards the warmth.
“Looking a little pink there, Loops.”
Remus cracked an eye open and looked at Sirius, who had just come back from a dip in the ocean. His hair was pushed away from his eyes, sopping and sticking up. The salty droplets fell down his body and Remus, behind his sunglasses, allowed himself a glance at the way his trunks wetly clung around the shape of his soft cock.
Remus loved beach days.
“I’m gonna put the umbrella up.”
“I’ll do it for you,” Thomas said, coming up behind Sirius, dark skin glistening and smile bright.
“Thanks, Talker,” Remus grinned at Sirius’ expression, as if offended that another man would get to raise Remus’ umbrella for him.
“No problemo. I’m gonna get a smoothie, anyone want one?”
“Yes,” James gasped, looking up from where he was lying on his stomach, and Remus jumped. He had thought he was asleep. “Please, I would like—strawberry banana? Yeah, that’s what I want.”
“Anything blueberry, I think,” Sirius said. “Thanks, Walkie.”
“Same,” Remus smiled up at him.
Sirius kicked Remus’ foot as Thomas walked away. Remus looked up in time to see Sirius glance at James, and then jerk his head towards the sea.
Remus smiled, and pushed himself out of his chair.
“Beach days are the best,” Remus said as his feet sunk down in the sand.
Sirius snorted. “Why, because you get to rub sunscreen all over Kasey Winter?”
“That was nice. Maybe it’s because Thomas is walking around all handsome.”
Sirius made a noise that was close to a whine and Remus laughed.
“Maybe it’s because your swimsuit’s clinging to your dick like they’re in love.”
Sirius burst out laughing as they waded into the water. “Alright, alright.”
The water was warm and Remus sunk right into rolling wave, diving down below it and letting the current pull him back for a moment before surfacing. The salt was cool and heavenly on his skin. He flicked his hair out of his face and looked up at Sirius, squinting in the sun.
“I’m never going back to winter,” Remus said.
“Yeah?” Sirius was smiling softly at him, eyes darting all over his face. Suddenly, he could see it. A trip with Sirius, just the two of them. No practice. No worries.
Remus shook his head, and dunked beneath the water again. Everything became quiet for a moment. He could hear the sand sifting against itself. The silence made his thoughts suddenly loud.
He loved Sirius.
He loved Sirius.
Remus broke through the surface just in time for Sirius to dive under. He felt Sirius’ hand press against his chest, submerged, and then it was gone as Sirius surfaced again. But Remus was grinning, hand where Sirius’ had been.
From the sea, Remus could see how the team had spread out. Jackson, Evgeni, Sergei, and Pascal were playing volleyball a little ways down, Leo and Finn were still in the water together. Remus didn’t see Logan. He hoped he went to get smoothies with Thomas. He could see Olli near by, sun shirt and sunhat on, in the shade, happily away from the sun and reading a book.
“Did you notice anything funny with Logan at Christmas?” Remus asked Sirius as they floated together, carried up and down with the waves and hands brushing.
“This again?” Sirius smiled a little and shrugged. “I don’t think so? I mean, I think it’s funny that he’s not living with Finn, but who am I to talk? Took me a long time to move out, too. Celeste is heaven in a person.”
Remus smiled, licking salt from his lips. “Yeah, no…” Remus finally spotted Logan on the beach. He was still sitting on his chair, eyes down and on his phone. “I just was wondering.”
“What do you think’s up with him?”
Remus shook his head. “I’m not sure yet. I’ll let you know.”
Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Okay… I am the captain, you know.”
“No, really?”
Sirius grinned, floating on his back. “I just mean I’m here to help.”
“I’ll let you know, Captain.” What Remus didn’t say was, I actually think this one might help you.
“Hey,” Sirius said, and Remus looked. Sirius was sun-kissed. His eyes took on the light color of the water. Sirius swam closer, even though no one was close enough to hear. “I’d kiss you right now if I could. You look gorgeous.”
Remus let their feet brush in the floating sand. “I’d kiss you right back, baby.”
~
“Florida ice sucks,” Finn yelled, slapping his stick against it. “Bouncy mother fuck.”
They were at morning practice, two hours of ice time at the Lightning’s rink before the game that night. Remus was partly watching Sirius laughing as he and Olli played keep away while the next drill was set up, partly nodding along to Finn, leaning against the boards complaining, and partly looking at Logan across the rink, silent beside where Pascal and Kris were talking. He was shuffling a small bit of shaved ice with his stick, back and forth, back and forth.
“Loops, you should practice with us,” Finn said.
“He’s not insured,” Coach said, flipping through his notes. He was firm, but he sounded sorry. “If he gets hurt, he could sue us.”
Finn scoffed. “What if I pay him off right now?”
“Harzy, get your ass out on that ice and don’t complain about it.”
Finn sighed, but bumped his glove against Remus’ fist. “I fought for you. You took me down, and I fought for you.” He tapped his temple. “Remember that, Lupin.”
Remus laughed. “Whatever you say, Harz.”
Sirius was in full blown captain-mode, laser-focused on making sure they won every game they could. It was January now. They were getting closer and closer to clinching a play-off spot. But they had to keep winning. Remus watched him touring around the ice, checking in on everyone—Leo, in goal. Talking plays with Pascal. Mostly discussing but sort of arguing with the coaches in the endearing and intimidating way that he had.
Remus loved him.
They were five minutes into three-on-three drills when Logan went down hard near the goal, accidentally tripped up by Leo. It was an awkward, sudden fall, a caught skate blade-on-blade. It took him a second to get up, and Remus didn’t know if it was because he was hurt, or becomes of something else. He had been acting dazed all practice, Remus was trained to look for that for concussion reasons. Only, Logan hadn’t hit his head.
Sirius skated up to him, stopping just short of the boards. “I want you to check Tremz out.”
“The kid’s asleep on his feet,” Moody said from beside Remus. “Or something.”
“Tremz,” Remus called, and motioned him over with a beckoning hand.
Finn skated with him, as if afraid Logan was going to fall. By the look on Logan’s face, Remus didn’t think it was an entirely unreasonable fear.
“I’m telling you, Lo, Florida ice,” Finn said as Logan stepped off. His tone was teasing, but his worried eyes met Remus’.
Alright, come with me, Tremz.”
“Okay,” Logan said. He didn’t look at Finn.
“I just got tripped, Loops,” Logan said from the exam table. Remus saw the sleepless purple beneath his eyes. “Everything feels fine.”
“I know, it didn’t look bad,” Remus said as he washed his hands. “It took you a second to get up though. Feeling okay? I noticed a little at the beach, too. Thought it was the heat, but…”
Logan was silent for a few, long beats.
“Yeah,” he finally said, and that was all. It was faint, and Remus sighed and turned around. Logan was staring at his hands, gloves and helmet beside him.
“Logan,” Remus began, and Logan looked up. Remus stayed across the room, leaning against the sink and shelves. “I just want you to know…I want you to know that I’m a resource for you. That the confidentiality that applies to people like doctors, any sort of doctor, applies to me. I only have to report things if I feel like they pose a danger to yourself, or to other people.”
Logan blinked at him, hands twisting in his jersey.
“I’m here, Tremz. If you want to talk. If you need anything. Really. I’m here.”
Remus turned around, then, giving him space, busying himself with random things until—
“I’m so…” Logan’s voice was faint, small in a way that Remus had never heard it.
Remus turned around slowly, and his heart hurt for him. Logan was staring at his hands, still pulling at his jersey, and his eyes were dull with the pain of whatever he was thinking about.
“I’m…” he tried again, and swallowed hard. He looked up at Remus. “I’m horrible.”
Remus shook his head slowly, and walked over to him. “Why do you think that?”
Logan looked down again. He squeezed his eyes shut, and when he opened them again, there were tears on his dark lashes.
“Fuck,” he wiped at them roughly, angrily.
“It’s okay, Tremz, hey…” Remus reached out, rubbing a hand over his back.
“No, it’s—” Logan tried again.
And then suddenly, in the next breath, Logan was sobbing. Great, heaving sobs that wracked his entire body. The scary part was, they were nearly silent besides his ragged breathing, as if he couldn’t bear to let them out but couldn’t catch his breath either. They tore out of him.
“It’s okay,” Remus said softly. “This is okay.”
Logan buried his face in his hands, elbows on his knees, and cried.
Remus felt tears in his own throat just at the sight. This was hurt. This was pure hurt.
“I can’t love him,” Logan said, breathing hitching while he tried to get the words out. “I can’t—they’re—”
Remus took that in stride. He figured this was something to do with sexuality, based on what Leo had said—or, rather, shown. He thought of the multi-colored thread of his bracelet.
Remus shook his head. “Yes, you can.”
Logan looked up at him, green eyes bright and chest still jumping with his tears. He shook his head. “No.”
“Yes,” Remus said gently. “Logan, you can love whoever you want.”
“Not here,” Logan’s lip trembled and he blinked new, hot tears. He wiped at his face with the sleeve of his jersey. “Fuck, Loops you see what they—if they knew…”
“I know,” Remus said quietly. “I understand why you’re scared. I’m…” Remus took a breath. “I’m the same. And when I was playing…I was scared, too.”
That froze Logan in his tracks.
If anyone had told Remus a year ago that the first person he would be coming out to was Sirius Black, the second Leo Knut, and the third Logan Tremblay, he would have laughed.
“You’re…” Logan breathed.
Remus nodded silently. “Yes. And I understand.”
In the next moment, the door was opening.
“Hey, Loops, is Tremz—”
Remus felt Logan recoil at Finn’s voice, eyes widening at Remus as they both turned to look.
For a moment, Remus could only watch as Finn appeared, just his head and shoulders through the door, sweat dripping from his hair. The smile slowly dropped from his face as he took in the sight in front of him. Logan’s red eyes. His shaking hands.
He took another step inside. “Lo, oh my god.”
“Harz, do you want to give us a minute?” Remus said as steadily as he could. This was not what Logan needed. He should have locked the door.
“Lo, what’s wrong?” Finn looked at Remus. “Is he okay? What’s—Lo, what’s wrong?”
“Finn,” Remus said more firmly. “I’m asking you to give us a minute.”
“Logan,” Finn said again, taking another step through the door. He looked tall on his skates, but wrecked by what he was seeing. Remus heard Logan let out a low sob from beside him, and watched Finn’s face break, worried and confused.
“Finn, leave,” Remus said, and walked forward, pushing Finn gently backwards.
“Hey, no—get off me,” Finn said louder, and looked desperately back at Logan. “Lo…”
Logan looked down, lip shaking like it was taking everything in him to hold himself together.
Remus had never seen Finn aggressive off of the ice. For a moment, Remus thought he was going to push back, but then he deflated again.
“Logan,” Finn pleaded.
“Finn, I swear to fucking god, listen to me,” Remus gave him a shove. He opened the door. “I’m sorry, I know. You can talk to him later, that’s up to you, but right now, this is my office.”
Remus shut the door. They could both see Finn’s silhouette, standing there still, through the shade on the window. After a few, long moments, it disappeared.
Remus turned. “Oh god, Logan, I’m so sorry, I should have locked—”
Logan let out another breath, half air half tears, and shook his head. “None of this is your fault.”
“No, I told you that you could talk and then the person you’re talking about fucking—walks right in.”
Logan looked up, startled. “You know?”
“I…”
Logan’s hands gripped the padded table on either side of his thighs. “Do people know?”
“No, no, no—” Remus held up his hands, walking back over to him. “No, I swear, Tremz, no one knows.”
“How do you?”
Remus took a breath. “Um. Well…”
“Remus,” Logan said. He looked truly panicked. “Remus.”
“I can’t say that without—” Remus sent Logan a pleading look.
“Was it Finn?”
Remus pressed his lips together. He shook his head.
“It was Leo,” Logan said.
Remus knew before he could help it that his surprised expression gave him away. He guessed that he shouldn’t be that surprised. Leo and Logan were roommates on the road. It was logical that Leo would be a friend Logan might have confided in.
“Yes,” Remus stumbled through the word, and only because Logan had said, rather than asked.
Logan put his head in his hands.
“Fuck.”
“Do you…what’s can I do?”
“I don’t know,” Logan said. “I don’t even know what I can do.”
“I think…I think you should talk to Finn. Then you two can figure out what you want to do. It’ll be hard and awkward but…it’ll work out. I know it will. You guys have a strong friendship.”
When Logan laughed, he sounded unbearably tired. “When has anything like that ever worked out before?”
Remus smiled a little. If he only knew.
“Just trust me, okay? Can you?”
Logan let out a long, exhausted breath. “Yeah,” he said, voice rough. he snuffled, and rubbed his jersey against his face. “Fuck…yeah. I can.” Then, Logan looked at him carefully. “Are you…do you have someone?”
Remus hesitated, but nodded silently. “But I won’t say more than that.”
Logan’s eyes widened. “He’s in the League.”
“Go talk to Finn,” Remus evaded the question, then paused. “Maybe after you’ve both cooled off a little.”
Logan heaved himself off of the table. “Thanks, Loops. Really, I…I don’t really talk about this. My sisters, they want to talk about it, but I just…”
Remus waited patiently. Logan still looked tired, but he was standing a little straighter now.
“I’ve always been scared of it,” Logan said. “I was never allowed. I’m still not allowed.”
“Oh, you’re allowed,” Remus shook his head. “They are just people stupid enough to believe they can control something like that. Logan.”
Logan looked up at him.
“You said you love him.”
Logan’s eyes closed and he looked down again.
“And,” Remus gestured at the door. “I don’t know if you noticed, but he was about to take a swing at me just to get to you, so… it’s pretty clear to me that he has some sort of feelings, too.”
Remus had a brief, panicked thought, suddenly remembering June. He didn’t understand that part of this. From the way Finn had just acted, to whatever Leo, who lived with Finn, seemed to think…he didn’t know how she fit in.
“Feelings and a girlfriend,” Logan said, voice thick again.
“That doesn’t mean it won’t…” God, Remus ached for him, remember seeing Sirius with girls. “It’ll feel good to tell him, I think. He’s your best friend. Let him be there for you in any way that he can. Logan, you need people to support you through this. I didn’t have that, but now I do. And it’s really fucking important.”
Logan sniffed, eyes filling again. “I’ve never said it.”
Remus sucked in a breath. Me neither, he wanted to say, but instead he wrapped his arms around Logan, feeling him return the hug with a little bit of surprise.
“I think you should,” Remus said.
As he said it, he made a vow to himself, too.
~
The stadium was blue that night with Lighting jerseys, warm-up music blasting as the two teams skated around the ice. There were some vibrant spots of red near the glass, and Remus watched as Sirius skated over to a father and his two small children, one boy, one girl. The girl was wearing Thomas’ jersey, and the boy was wearing Sirius’. Remus smiled as Sirius waved at them with his glove, and then whistled at Thomas. Thomas skated over, too, asking the little girl for a high five through the glass, and then pretending to be knocked over and onto the ice with her force. She giggled madly. Sirius threw a puck over to the boy, then posed for a picture.
His attention was pulled away by the sound of a hard stop in front of the boards near him.
“Fucking ice,” Finn grumbled. He looked at Remus, then away, cheeks flushing. Pascal was with him, and squirted him with a water bottle.
“Not with the cameras and microphones around, mon cub. Florida will kill us all.”
Finn rolled his eyes. He looked tense. He didn’t look at Logan, a few feet away, on his knees and stretching.
Remus caught Logan’s eye and raised an eyebrow. Logan shook his head. So, they hadn’t talked about it yet. That was good, it had only been a few hours. By the looks of it, Remus would guess that they weren’t talking at all right now.
“Don’t let it affect your play, Harzy. It’ll work out,” Remus said quietly, and Finn’s eyes snapped towards him. They went hard, and he all but threw his water bottle back into the bench slots.
“You don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Finn said lowly.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” came a new voice, and one of Tampa’s blue uniforms came skating up, taking Finn immediately into a headlock. “If it isn’t my baby brother.”
Remus raised his eyebrows. He had completely forgotten that Finn’s brother played for Tampa. That he had a brother in the League at all.
“Alex, come on,” Finn groaned as Alex rattled his helmet before letting go. Finn laughed though, and hugged him, slapping his padded shoulder. “Hey, man. Ready to get your ass whipped?”
“Fat fucking chance,” Alex shook his head, and smiled at Remus. He had his brother’s smile, all blinding perfect teeth, crinkling soft brown eyes. Alex kept a faint, red stubble that Finn shaved clean off. He called for Logan, then, who skated over a little hesitantly, and bumped fists with him.
“Sup, Lo,” Alex said. “Haven’t seen you in the city for a few years, what’s that about?” He glanced back at Finn, who’s smile had faded. He raised an eyebrow and looked at Remus. “These kids lived at each other’s houses during college.”
Remus smiled back, dying a little inside at the pain he wasn’t sure Finn’s older brother knew he was currently causing.
“I can believe it,” Remus said.
Logan coughed and shuffled a little on his skates. “Just busy, I guess.”
“I guess,” Alex parroted with a laugh. “Alright,” he smacked Finn’s ass with his glove. “Good luck little brother, love you bunches.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Finn grumbled, retaliating with a shove from his stick, but he smiled again. Remus was glad, because he could see about fifteen cameras trained on them.
“Boys,” Sirius stopped hard in front of them. “The fuck are we standing around here? Circle shoot, come on.”
Logan shot away as fast as it seemed that he could. Finn, however, looked again at Remus. His brown eyes were worried and Remus did his best to look back calmly.
“It’ll be okay,” he said, and then glanced at Pascal, who was very obviously pretending like he wasn’t listening.
“You can’t know that,” Finn said quietly.
“But we can hope,” Remus replied, and then nodded towards center ice. “Cap’s calling. Play the game first, and come find me later if you want.”
Finn took a long, slow breath, and then wordlessly skated away.
Pascal took his place in front of Remus, and he was smiling. “Sometimes we all simply need a little baby push in the right direction, non?”
Remus stared at him. Pascal just kept smiling.
“Like a dinner invitation,” Pascal shrugged exaggeratedly. “On a stormy night.”
Remus nearly choked. “I—Dumo.”
“I have a game to play, Remus,” Dumo sing-songed as he skated away to shoot on Leo.
“Dumo,” Remus yelled.
“What are you yelling at Dumo for?” Coach said, coming out of the tunnel with his line card.
Remus stared at him. “Um—the water bottles, he was unscrewing the water bottles.”
“Oh,” Arthur laughed. “The usual.”
“Yeah,” Remus said distractedly. “Apparently.”
~
They won 3-2, two goals from Thomas and one from James. The atmosphere in the locker room as everyone packed up to get back on a plane to Gryffindor was calm and pleased. Remus was packing up his supplies in the visitor’s PT room when there was a knock at his door. Remus looked up.
“Finn,” he said, not completely surprised. “Hi. Good game.”
Finn sent him a small, wavering smile. His hair was tucked beneath a beanie and he had his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his light gray suit.
“Can we talk?” he said.
“Of course,” Remus gestured to a chair and the exam table. “Where ever.”
Finn pulled the hat from his head, red hair a mess beneath, flopping over his forehead. He let out a long breath as he hitched himself up onto the table, vans swinging on his feet.
“Logan’s really hurting,” he said. “And it’s my fault.”
Remus blinked. Based on Logan, he had thought he was going to have to work a little harder to get Finn talking.
“Okay,” Remus said slowly. “Why is it your fault?”
“Because I’m an asshole.”
Remus laughed, just a little. “Harz, you aren’t an asshole. What do you mean?”
Finn took a few moments to respond. He was pulling at his suit lapels and seemed to be biting the inside of his cheek.
“Loops, what I’m about to tell you…”
“Doctor’s confidentiality, Harz,” Remus said. “It’s the same deal as you telling me you think you might have an STD. That information’s going no where, unless I think you’re about to cause someone else some harm.”
Finn actually laughed. “Oh. That’s a real nice image, thanks.” He cleared his throat. “Me, um. Me and Logan, in college…we had, well, I wouldn’t call it a thing but,” Finn looked up at Remus, expression soft. “Logan’s my best friend. That’s all we’ve—that’s all we’ve said, but I,” Finn pressed a hand over his mouth, staring at the wall. He laced his fingers together, then, elbows on his knees. Remus watched him think it through, watched the words formulate in his mind. He watched Finn feel them in his entire being. “Remus, I love him so much. Really, love him, I mean. I’m—I’m in love with him.”
Remus looked at him. He admired him. Finn was nodding slowly to himself, eyes closed. Remus understood Logan’s pain now. Logan, who had never said such a thing, not even when Remus had flat out asked him.
“Finn, that doesn’t make you an asshole.”
Finn just gave him a pained look. “June.”
“Oh. Yeah, okay, maybe explain that to me.” When Finn didn’t answer, but just pressed his fingers into his eyes, Remus took a step further. “Finn, was…was this, like, a jealousy thing?”
“It didn’t start that way,” Finn said. “At first it was…it was me trying to be happy. Me trying to move on.” Finn groaned. “I…I really, really like June. And she really likes me but,” he laughed, a little tearfully. “It took her about three fucking days after I asked her on a date to figure me out. Literally, I thought we were going to lunch and she fucking sat down like, alright, O’Hara, who are you in love with?” Finn rubbed a hand over his face, laughing again, but the laugh was sad. “I thought I was going to fucking cry.”
Remus thought Finn looked like he was going to cry right now.
“After I told June what was up,” Finn sighed. “We became really good friends. Like, is that weird? She’s the first person I got to open up to. Ever. She’s—fuck, she’s incredible.”
It actually made pretty good sense to Remus. He’d never actually seen them kiss, but he could see the affection there.
“And she said she would come to family skate with me, as a friend, because my family was at my brother’s this year, right? Here, in Tampa. But everyone assumed she was my girlfriend, of course, I mean that’s logical.”
“Right…”
“And then she went along with it, maybe to help, and then I saw the look on Logan’s face, and I thought…” Finn stopped abruptly, swallowing hard. “I thought…maybe now he’ll talk to me. Maybe we can sort this out. Maybe I’ll finally tell him…I’ll tell him…”
But he couldn’t finish.
“I think,” Remus began. “I think you guys should talk to each other. Really, just—just a long, sit down talk.”
Finn nodded. “I try. Logan…fucking French.”
Remus smiled a little. “There’s a lot of history here that I don’t know about, and a lot of feelings I wasn’t there for. Only you two know how you feel, and what you want.”
Finn still looked conflicted, though, and he was rubbing at his heart like it hurt. “But Leo—”
Remus tilted his head a little at him. Logan had mentioned Leo, too.
“Does Leo know about all this? What is he, like the middle man between you two? Because he’s the one who told me to talk to Logan.”
Finn’s head snapped up. “Really?”
“Yeah, but he also told me about you and June, so—”
“No, no,” Finn said, suddenly standing. “Leo knows about me and June. Like, the truth. Logan doesn’t know.”
Remus raised his eyebrows. “Well, Logan’s the one you’re in love with, right?”
Finn’s smile was sad. “Only for seven years of my life. But, there's…”
Remus waited for him to go on, but he didn’t, just shook his head. “Well,” Remus said. “Then I think maybe you should tell him that you don’t have a girlfriend. That might make things a little easier for him.”
Finn groaned. “Yeah. Fuck me, see? I’m an asshole.”
Remus put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. “No, Harz. You’re trying your best to be yourself in a world that’s making it really fucking hard. You’re brave. You just need to talk to the people who will help you. You’ll support each other.”
Finn blinked at him, and then cursed and pulled Remus into a hard hug, face tucked into his neck.
“You helped me, Loops. Fuck me,” Finn pulled back and he was sniffling a little. “Do you get paid for this?”
Remus laughed. “Yes.”
“Good.”
“Good,” Remus patted his shoulder. “We need to get on a bus now, Harz.”
“A long talk to him on the bus,” Finn’s face lit up with anticipation and nerves.
Remus shook his head. “No.”
Finn sighed, but nodded as if resigned to Remus being right. “We’ll talk to him at home.”
Remus tilted his head as Finn turned towards the door. “We?”
“Catch you on the plane, Loops!” Finn called, and let the door close slowly behind him.
It was caught by a hand before it closed. Sirius’ head poked in.
“Jeez,” he said, and then grinned while Remus rolled his eyes. Sirius closed the door, turned the lock, and then pulled Remus in with his hands on his hips. He leaned down to brush their lips together, his hair, wet from his shower, dripping cooly on Remus’ neck. “You’re city hall today, eh?”
Remus grinned, wrapping his arms around Sirius’ neck. He looked handsome in his dark gray suit. “You have no idea.”
“Is this to do with your Logan fixation?”
Remus snorted. “Oh God. That makes it sound like I have some sort of kink for him.”
Sirius raised an eyebrow.
“Shut up,” Remus laughed, and pulled him down for a hard kiss, licking into his mouth before sealing it with a soft scrape of his teeth against Sirius’ lip. “You know that’s only for you.”
Sirius tucked his face against Remus’ neck and held him close. “Mine or yours tonight?”
Remus thought for a moment, heart speeding up. He carded his fingers through Sirius’ hair and pressed a kiss to his neck. “Mine. I’ll cook.”
And I’ll tell you I love you, he didn’t add.
The plane ride felt quick, and Remus had slept the entire time. He was groggy as they stumbled off the plane. He caught Sirius staring at him as they exited into a waiting area. Sirius smiled at him, warm and soft. It filled Remus up to the brim.
I love you.
It had been playing like a record on the plane, even as he slept. He dreamed in I love you’s, now, he lived and walked in them. He needed to say it. He thought of Finn and Logan. He needed to say it. He would say it tonight.
Sirius had one AirPod in, and he looked down, still smiling. Remus expected his phone to buzz with a text any second.
Instead, Remus watched Sirius’ entire posture change. He stiffened. He had a funny look on his face, looking down at his phone. It was staring and vacant. With alarm, Remus realized he could see Sirius’ hand shaking. He took one step forward, and then Sirius looked up. His eyes, even from across the room, were completely blank, cold. They stopped Remus in his tracks. It was identical, perfectly identical, to Sirius’ first years on The Lions. That stare was Sirius looking through layers and layers of walls, of brick and cobwebs and years of being torn down. What Remus didn’t know, was what had sprung them up so fucking quickly. Just hours ago, Sirius had been smiling and kissing his neck. Now, he was looking at Remus like he didn’t know who he was. Before, years ago, Remus hadn’t known Sirius well enough to realize that look for what it was.
Now, he knew Sirius looked afraid.
“Whoa,” he heard from behind him, and turned. Finn was staring at him wide-eyed. Logan was staring at Sirius, eyes even bigger. James was staring at Sirius, expression unreadable. They all had their phones in their hands.
Remus reached for his own phone, nearly dropping it. No emails. No texts. Remus’ hands were shaking, too, now. He had a feeling in his stomach.
Twitter. Trending.
Remus swayed, hand reaching out for something to grab onto and finding one of the flimsy, belt, line dividers. He felt his entire body heat up, then go ice cold.
#SiriusBlackGay.
It was worse when he clicked on it.
Captions. Horrible, horrible, captions. He didn’t even see if there were any supporting messages. All he could see were question marks, and capital letters. Slurs.
Burning this jersey, one said.
#notmycaptain.
And the pictures.
They were dark, but they were clear. Taken through Sirius’ car window, in Remus’ parking garage. On New Year’s eve. Remus was on Sirius’ lap. They were kissing in one, and in another, Remus was kissing Sirius’ neck, Sirius’ face tilted up, eyes closed. They were perfectly recognizable with their hats off, with the streetlight filtering in.
#CaptainBottom the tweet read.
Remus felt sick. He pressed a hand to his throat. He couldn’t breathe.
Sirius.
Remus looked up when someone said Sirius’ name, quietly. It was Pascal. He was the only member of the team to approach their captain, the others still frozen or shuffling with shock. Remus watched as Pascal reached out a hand. He watched as Sirius fell a step backwards.
“Sirius,” Pascal said again, followed by French that was too low for Remus to hear.
Not even Sirius seemed to hear. Remus watched his throat work around a swallow. Remus silently begged Sirius to look at him. But he didn’t.
Instead, Sirius turned on his heel and walked out of the airport, automatic doors opening before him, and then sealing shut. Sirius disappeared as the light’s reflection took over the glass. Remus found himself staring at his own, murky reflection, smaller and behind Pascal’s, who still had his hand out.
Remus couldn’t look away from the whites of his own terrified eyes. His hand closed more tightly around his throat. He couldn’t think.
Vaguely, he registered James walking slowly up to him. He stood there, shown in the door’s reflection for a long moment, and then Remus watched his hand reach out and gently hold Remus’ shoulder.
“Can I drive you home?” James said softly.
Remus stared ahead, eyes unseeing. James gently took his phone out of his hand and clicked it off, slipping it into his own pocket. He wrapped his arm more firmly around Remus’ shoulders.
“Come on, Re. Let me—let me be here for you.”
“He needs you,” Remus choked out. They both knew who he meant.
“I’m going there next,” James started walking them forward. “Lily’s going to you. She’ll meet you at your apartment, okay?”
That made Remus’ eyes fill. He blinked away the wetness, and it dripped down his cheeks.
“Okay,” he whispered.
“Okay, babe,” James said and squeezed his shoulders.
They followed where Sirius had been, out the doors and into the freezing night.
#(Warning: Struggles with sexuality mild panic mentions of homophobia forced to come out#wolfstar#remus x sirius#sirius x remus#wolfstar au#hockey!au#sweater weather#harry potter#lumosinlove#remus lupin#sirius black#Logan tremblay#o'knutzy#finn o'hara#Leo knut#lumosinlove ocs#lumosinlove oc#angst#smut#fluff#wolfstar smut#wolfstar angst#wolfstar fluff
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Rules of Engagement 1/? (Henry x OFC)
Summary: Henry and Em have been friends for almost ten years and involved in a casual affair for just as long. The rules were simple: no romantic attachment and their friends and family couldn’t know. Easy enough to do right? However, when new complications emerge, Henry and Em will need to navigate this relationship of theirs, if they can even call it that. Chapter 02 | Chapter 03 | Chapter 04 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 06
Author’s Notes: Here it is. My first official series for Henners. I’m strangely nervous, because it’s sort of my baby and I have been putting lots of work on it for a couple of months now. So I would really, really appreciate feedback if you could take some time to do it.
Wordcount: 4815
Warnings: alcohol consumption; smut (oral; dirty talk; penetration)
Chapter 01: Casual Affair
It was by pure chance that when Emeline’s flight coming from Istambul had technical difficulties while on air, they stopped in Budapest of all places. However, it was straight bad luck that what was supposed to be just a quick stop turned into an allnighter due to more serious engine problems, with her new flight being scheduled for the next morning.
She considered just getting herself a hotel but it was nearly ten p.m. she was exhausted and Em really didn’t want to deal with finding a half-decent place to crash when she could just call Henry. That was what friends were for right?
Henry came, of course. That was the kind of person he was. Kind and helpful. Dependable. He hugged her tight, since they hadn’t seen each other since Clara and Todd’s baby had been born, before taking her carryon like the perfect gentleman and ushering Em into the rental car he had been using during his stay.
During the drive, he talked in an excited tone about the series and all the work he had to do. Em could only smile at the huge grin on his lips and the glint of excitement in his blue eyes. It was quite something to see Henry this happy and engaged with a project. Em was truly glad for him, but she was also tired, never being one to sleep on airplanes, so her contributions to the conversations were just hmms and nods every now and then, not that Henry seemed to mind.
“Did you eat?” Henry asked once he parked at the driveway of the cute white house and its perfectly maintained lawn that had been his home for the last couple of months.
“Airport food? Please!” she pulled a face, making Henry laugh as he led the way through the stone pathway.
“You’re such a food snob,” he commented, pausing by the front door, and Em was already smiling because she could hear Kal’s whines through the door.
“I’m not. I just have good taste.” Em dropped to her knees to pet and greet Kal which shot out the second Henry opened the door.
She had always loved dogs but never had a chance to have one for herself. At first, her father didn’t allow it, but once she moved out Em didn’t really have the space to keep one so she channeled all her dog mom tendencies towards Kal.
“Sometimes I think you’re only friends with me so you can see Kal regularly,” Henry teased once she let go of the dog long enough to step inside and Em smirked at him.
“You are not wrong, Cavill,” she said, her gaze traveling over the tasteful décor of the house, but her focus was instantly drawn to the kitchen and as soon as she shook off her coat on Henry’s waiting hands, she made a beeline to the room, in Em’s opinion the most important part of any house. “I love your kitchen.” She ran her hands over the wooden countertops and light blue cabinets.
“Technically, it’s not mine,” he chuckled, moving towards the fridge. “I have aubergine lasagna leftovers. Want some?”
“That sounds disgusting,” Em said with a grimace. “But it will do.”
She settled at the isle with the heated lasagna, once again listening to Henry babble about the project and his castmates and how things were going in the set. Some of it she had already heard since they texted every day, but Em enjoyed listening to Henry and actually missed his deep baritone voice.
It made her glad that she chose to do this, instead of staying at some crappy motel by herself, awake most of the night since Em had a hard time sleeping in other beds that weren’t hers. At least here she had Henry and she missed him.
“So how was Istambul?” he asked, bringing her plate to the sink, refusing to let her clean up herself.
“It was amazing,” Em sighed, chin resting on her hand as she watched Henry’s back unseeingly. She was actually thinking back on her journey, in which she had spent a week exploring the city and the sights, completely by herself just like she preferred.
Now, with her belly full, it was her time to babble about everything she saw and experienced while there. Em knew Henry had seen the pictures and stories on her Instagram. He liked everything she posted during the week, but there something about the way he was watching her, the focused look in his dazzling blue eyes like she was telling him the most interesting story in the world, that just made Em keep going, even as Henry finished the dished and they moved to get more comfortable in the couch.
“It does sound like you had fun,” he smiled at her, body turned her way on the couch, head resting on his palm as he listened, his other hand holding his glass of wine. “But don’t you miss having someone to share the experience?
“Sometimes,” Em shrugged, sipping her wine, she was in her third glass by now and she really ought to slow down, her mind was already getting a little foggy.
She had been doing these travels since she turned eighteen. First, she had her best friend Clara as her companion, but as they got older, Em started doing by herself since Clara couldn’t. One or two boyfriends in her time had offered to come along once, but it felt wrong to taint the memories of those trips with someone that might not be with her for the long run.
“But it’s nice too, you know? To have my own thing, without anyone else,” she scratched Kal behind the ears, just like he liked it, smiling at the way he rested his head on her knee to keep being petted. “Thanks again for letting me stay.”
“Anytime,” Henry replied with a smile, his own eyes clouded with alcohol.
They had been talking for hours, one and a half bottles of wine gone in the process. Enough alcohol to make Em’s mind wander as she took in Henry’s impressive physique, the stupid amount of muscles he built up for the series stretching his blue button-down. His dark hair falling in messy curls over his forehead, just like she Em liked it and the blush of alcohol making his cheeks even sharper.
Fighting the allure of the man before her, Em shifted her gaze down to Kal, but it was like he could pick up that something was about to happen, because pulled away from her touch, trouting out the back door, leaving her with only one option now.
Henry’s palm was warm and rough against her jaw as he tilted Em’s face back towards him, his eyes searching for her consent before his lips landed on hers in a soft kiss that gradually grew heated as their mutual need for each other was set alight.
Em sighed against his lips, giving in to the urge that had been brewing from the second she dialed his number. She inched closer, fisting his shirt, licking into his mouth and chasing the taste of wine on his tongue as Henry let his fingers wander down her torso, sneaking under her blouse to touch skin.
“Bedroom,” she mumbled against his lips. “Last time on the couch was a mess.”
“Yeah,” Henry chuckled getting to his feet and leading the way backward, his mouth never leaving hers, his touch getting bolder as their kisses because more desperate.
“This is the last time we do this,” Em declared, fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt or at least trying to. The amount of alcohol she consumed was enough to leave her a little uncoordinated. Henry was doing only slightly better.
“You’ve said that the last five times.”
Em could feel his smirk as his mouth descended over her jaw, pressing sucking kisses on her neck. He loved to leave marks all over her. No matter how many times Em asked him not to, Henry would just ignore it. It was as if he knew she secretly loved to watch herself in the mirror in the following week and be reminded of how amazing the sex had been.
“I mean it this time,” Em said, finally undoing his shirt and pushing it down his shoulders, exposing Henry’s chiseled chest to her wandering hands.
“I think you said that too, last couple of times,” Henry pointed out, shaking his shirt to the floor and pulling hers over her head, leaving Em standing there in only jeans. “Just admit it: you love how I fuck you.”
“Like you don’t enjoy it too,” she said, pushing him towards the bed, and Henry fell back with a bounce and a chuckle.
“Oh, I definitely enjoy it,” he declared, that same smug smirk in place as she undid his pants. “Never said otherwise. Never been in denial either. You’re the one…” He trailed off with a groan when Em freed his hard cock, giving a couple of quick tugs before running her tongue over the underside vein.
Em didn’t want to think about the fact that Henry was absolutely right. She had always been the one to often have second thoughts about this casual affair the two of them had been keeping for years, but not because she didn’t like Henry. It was quite the opposite, Em liked Henry a little too much, but knew it just wouldn’t work, not when he was always all over the world shooting his movies and tv shows, while mostly she stayed in London due to her own work.
And they were both too career-driven and unwilling to concede to the other. If even as just friends, she and Henry were frequently bumping heads, Em could only imagine how terrible they would be as a couple.
She still remembered that fateful night that Clara dragged her to a sport’s bar of all places because she wanted Em to officially meet Todd. She had been at one of his rugby matches earlier that week but ended up leaving before being introduced. In hindsight, Em should have known something was up because of the way Clara made such a big deal about this meeting and fussed over her outfit
“You can’t wear jeans and t-shirt!” she complained, digging though her friend’s wardrobe as Em just huffed a breath and laid back in bed.
“Why not? I’m meeting your boyfriend. What I’m wearing doesn’t matter.”
She had just baked and decorated 150 cupcakes for a children's birthday party. She was exhausted and the last thing she wanted to do was going out, but Clara invoked the best friend rule, so Em was stuck.
“What if there’s a cute guy there?” Clara asked, coming out with a tight, black dress that Em hadn’t worn in 3 years and it definitely wouldn’t fit her now since she gained more than a couple of pounds. She really needed to do some spring cleaning in that closet.
“If a cute guy is hanging in a sport’s bar, big chances he’s a douche, and I already filled my douche quota for the year,” she replied as Clara dove back into the closet. “Besides, I don’t have time for relationships.”
And Em really didn’t. She has just invested all her savings in opening her dream bakery. No way she would be getting distracted by guys while she was trying to get her business off the ground.
“There’s always time for relationships!” Clara declared, coming out of the closet, this time holding one of Em’s favorite sweater dresses. “You never know when true love is gonna knock on your door.”
“Tell it to come by later,” she joked, grabbing the dress and walking into the bathroom to change. It would be a lost cause to argue with Clara. Her friend was a lawyer and could talk her ear off, so Em might as well just get this over with.
She put on the dress and the heels and the makeup Clara pushed her way before she was finally deemed worthy of stepping out of the flat for the bar. At arrival, they found Todd already in his third beer and accompanied by his friend Henry.
Todd and Clara played innocent, pretending to be surprised that the other decided to bring a friend too but Em knew right away this was an ambush. And if Henry’s eye roll was anything to go by, he knew it too. It was their friends' not so subtle attempt to set them up.
Em had to give it to Clara though, Henry was a handsome man but maybe too handsome. She was a run of the mill kind of girl. Not unattractive, mind you. She did pretty well dating wise, especially when she put an effort like tonight, but never with guys that looked like Henry.
He was all dark, curly hair, blue eyes with just a tiny fleck of brown. Perfect features and the kind of chiseled physique that his hoodie didn’t manage to hide completely. He also looked kind of familiar, but Em couldn’t place him right away in her memory.
As they talked, she kept staring at him with a thoughtful frown, trying to come up with subtle questions that could enlighten her of where she knew Henry from because the longer Em talker to him, and she couldn’t help but notice that Todd and Clara kept finding excuses to leave the table so she and Henry could be alone, stronger that familiarity became.
“So how did you meet Todd again?” Em asked, sipping on her drink, which was too sweet but she didn’t mind.
“We went to school together and still play rugby from time to time,” Henry replied, cradling his pint of Guinness. He had shifted on the booth so his back was to the corner and he could properly look at Em. “How about you and Clara?”
“We grew up together. Neighbors all our lives,” she replied, popping a chip in her mouth. “Clara dragged me to one of Todd’s matches on Sunday. Did I see you there?”
“Umm, no.” Henry smiled indulgently. “Just got back yesterday. I was out of town for work.”
She only hummed in response, trying to think back on anything that could have put her and Henry in the same place and explain this feeling of familiarity.
“The Tudors.”
“What?” She asked in confusion at Henry’s random comment.
“You’re trying to figure out from where you know me,” he pointed out with a smirk and Em felt her cheeks heating up. “I mean, I did some other stuff too, a couple of very bad horror movies but that was my biggest role, so you might know me from there.”
It was like a lightbulb finally switched in her brain and she finally managed to place him in her memory.
“Oh my God, you did that weird-ass movie with the nazi vampire zombie! The one with Fassbender and the guy from Prison Break.” Em exclaimed a little too loudly, but Henry only chuckled. “That movie was terrible.”
“Yes,” he nodded, ducking his head a little, and was that a blush? “And seriously? That’s where you know me from?”
“I like crappy horror movies, ok?” Em shrugged with a grin.
“Clearly.” Henry laughed too.
And just like that, conversation flowed easily between them. Henry was a fun guy, surprisingly dorky, and a huge geek for videogames and the fantasy genre. It was nice to talk to someone that seemed to appreciate Lord of the Rings as much as Em did and she didn’t even notice when Todd and Clara slipped out without a word, obviously thinking their job was done.
Maybe if Henry was someone else, not an actor or that hot, they could have been right but as it was, Em didn’t see things going beyond a cool friendship.
That was what she thought at least until Henry walked her home, like a perfect gentleman, making her laugh with so many stupid jokes her sides were aching and she felt like she hadn’t smiled this much in days.
“You didn’t need to walk me all the way to my door,” She commented, turning to face him, her back leaning against the frame. Even in her heels, she needed to tilt her head up to look at him.
“You’re kidding me, right?” Henry snorted. “You can barely stand on those.”
He wasn’t wrong, but it was more because her feet were sore from the constricted space than from the amount of alcohol she consumed, though that definitely played a factor on Em turning her head just when Henry leaned closer to lay a goodbye kiss on her cheek, making his lips land on hers instead.
They just stared at each other until Henry closed the distance again, his mouth returning to hers for a harder, much hotter kiss that had Em pressed against the door. His hands found their way under the hem of her dress; hers to his hair, pulling him even closer, desperation clawing inside her gut because it had been a while for her.
That was only the first of the one-night stands with Henry. Back then, Em thought it would be the only one, but as years passed, whenever the two of them found themselves single and in need of release, they would get together, no strings attached, no commitment, just a purely physical thing that none of their mutual friends knew about.
Her attention snapped back to the present when Henry tugged on her hair until she let his cock out of her mouth with a pop, crawling on top of him to meet his lips for a messy kiss.
“Where did you go just now?” he asked, panting. His hands working on the buttons of her jeans to push them off. “Your mind was so far away.”
Strangely enough, this casual affair they shared made her friendship with Henry stronger because once you’ve seen a person naked and on one of their most vulnerable moments, it could be so easy to open up to them.
“Just thinking about when we met,” Em replied, sucking on his lower lip and Henry let out a weird wheezing sound that it was half a groan, half a laugh.
“That’s was a good night,” he said, rolling them until Em was lying on her back and he was on top of her. His blue eyes, despite being clouded by lust, were still so intense and seemed to be able to look straight into her soul. “But I want you here, in the present with me.”
Henry met her lips so softly and with so much affection that her breath caught in her throat, hand tightening on the sheets beneath her as his mouth descended over her body, kissing and sucking and biting. Lingering over all her pleasure spots and lavishing them with attention.
This was why Em needed to put an end to this thing with Henry. Lately, every time the two of them ended in bed together, it was getting harder and harder to keep the doors closed against the growing feelings in her heart.
To keep herself from not letting the love she felt for her friend Henry to be contaminated by the lust that ignited in her body whenever the two of them fucked, turning this into something else that would definitely end with her heart broken.
“I can hear you thinking,” Henry chided, biting her lower belly and making Em jolt and giggle.
“Sorry, sorry,” she looked down at him with a smile. “Just too much in my head tonight.”
“Let’s see if I can make you relax.”
He smirked at her, his mouth moving lower, planting soft kisses over your hipbones, tongue tracing the waistline on her panties, and anticipation started building in her center. Em wanted to press your legs together to find some kind of friction, but Henry was kneeling between them, his strong hands keeping them open; thumbs rubbing circles on the sensitive inner skin of her thighs and she couldn’t focus on anything else even if she wanted to.
His mouth finally moved lower, tongue teasing her folds through the lace of her panties and she gasped and tried to thrust up but Henry kept her down before hooking his fingers on her panties and pulling them down, exposing her wet cunt to his warm breath and she shivered in expectation.
Henry seemed to be keen on driving her crazy because he was taking it so very slow, kissing and nipping her mound on his way down until finally, his tongue flickered against her clit. Only the briefest of touch but it was enough to make Em buck and moan, her hands coming to his hair and fingers digging in his scalp.
“Stop teasing,” she asked, making Henry chuckle against her and a groan ripped from Em’s throat at the sweet vibrations. “Hen… please.”
“That’s better,” he replied, rewarding her with a broad stroke of his tongue over her slit before he sucked hard on her clit. Her eyes rolled back and she raised her hips to try to get more of it.
Fortunately, Henry seemed to be done teasing because he moved things along, licking and sucking and even nipping very, very gently on her clit, while two of his thick fingers moved in and out of her drenched slit. Every outer motion he crooked his fingers up, hitting right in that spot to make Em see stars.
It was easy to get lost in sensations whenever she was with Henry. He knew her body like the back of his hand and made sure to keep her completely engaged. He kept his eyes on her face, reading her expressions to make sure she was enjoying herself but also because he knew Em loved the sight of him like this, his mouth on her cunt, his eyes dark with his desire for her.
He also made sure to hum and grunt for her, so she could hear how much he loved her taste and smell. Whenever his mouth wasn’t busy, he would also whisper the filthiest things in her ear, because he knew it turned her on.
His free hand roamed her body, touching and kneading her breasts, pinching the nipples to make Em arch and mewl, sending bolts of pleasure that seemed to gather on her core, coiling into a knot of ecstasy that made her writhe and shake. Her body tense with arousal, toes curling and thighs quivering as her orgasm approached like a rushing wave.
Henry also knew exactly when she was close to the edge. Em never needed to let him know and he would always redouble his effort, suck her clit harder, finger her faster, until that knot finally snapped and she arched against his mouth, her release soaking his fingers and chin.
Her body felt weightless like she was floating. Her muscles spasmed with the aftershocks of her pleasure and her mind, always running, was for once pleasantly blank as Em grinned wide, enjoying her high.
She barely noticed when Henry pressed one final kiss to her clit before he crawled on top of her again, meeting her lips and letting Em taste herself. It was one of the things that turned him on, to have her lick her juices from his mouth and chin, letting her tongue running over the rough skin of his stubbled jaw, chasing every last drop and Em felt his cock twitching in response against her hip.
“Fuck me, Hen,” she gasped against his cheek before her lips moved to his ear, nipping the lobe to make him groan. “I wanna feel you deep inside me.”
With her brain still swimming in endorphins, She barely noticed Henry getting up and moving to the bathroom. She only registered the curse he let out as he came back to the room with an empty box.
“Do you have some?”
She gave Henry a look, propped in her elbows. Em was a little too old to go around with condoms in her purse. She kept them on her toiletry bag which was in her suitcase, still at the airport.
“Shit! I really wanted to fuck you tonight.” He dropped the box on the ground, combing his fingers through his hair before climbing on top of Em, his kiss searing and stealing her breath away.
She moaned against his mouth, fingers digging on his shoulders. It had been a while for her and Em shared Henry’s frustration. She wanted to feel him inside her, filling and stretching her in that perfect way only Henry could do.
“Do it,” she declared, meeting his confused gaze. “It’s fine, I have an IUD and it’s not like I’ve been with anyone else in the last four months.”
“Me either,” Henry replied, his forehead resting against hers. “You’re sure?”
“Yeah.” She nodded, smirking at him. “Fuck me, Henners.” He groaned and glared, making her chuckle. He hated the nickname and Em knew it.
“I’m gonna make you regret that.”
He flashed her a mischievous smirk, reaching between the two of them to guide his cock to her slit, pushing inside in one rough stroke and Em cursed and clawed at his back, the sudden intrusion with just that edge of pain made her clench tighter against him and Henry grunted against her ear, pulling her legs around his waist.
“Fuck, Henry!” she hissed breathlessly, slapping his shoulder blade, which felt more like hitting a brick wall. “A little warning would be nice.”
“You love it,” he smirked down at her and nipped at her bottom lip before grinding his hips against hers, making Em moan. “No point in pretending otherwise.”
His movements started slow and deliberate. Henry’s goal was to drive her crazy all over again because he loved to see Em lose control and he loved to gloat over the fact that he was the only guy that ever managed to make her cum more than once on the same night.
Taking her hands in his and pinning above her head, Henry started to add some more strength to his movements, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, making Em mewl at how deep he was going. His mouth on her neck, and collarbone returning to the task of marking her as his, even if the two of them weren’t like that.
Her hips raised as best as she could to meet his movements and welcome him in. Her walls clenching tight as if refusing to let him go and every time, it made Henry grunt and suck harder on her skin before he soothed the spot with his tongue. She arched closer, seeking more as he licked a path from the hollow of her throat to her chin, lapping at the sweat gathering in her skin before his lips met hers again.
Soon, all Em knew was the way their bodies moved in tandem, meeting each other in search of pleasure. Henry praised and whispered dirty things in her ear, while her fingers entwined with his and her heels dug on the small of his back, urging him to move faster, harder, give her everything she craved for.
The knot of pleasure started to form in her core once again, growing and expanding as she could feel every single ridge of Henry’s thick cock filling her up, his pelvic bone slapping her clit at each thrust. She knew he was close too, his motions losing its controlled rhythm, becoming wilder, messy. His grunts turning throatier, his words filthier.
“God, I love your cunt. The way it squeezes me so tight,” he mumbled against Em’s mouth, his breath coming in short pants. “It feels even better without that fucking latex. Shit! I wanna fill you up with my cum. Do you want that? Can I cum inside you?”
“Yeah.” Em nodded, too far gone to form a reply more elaborate than that.
“I wanna see it trickling down your pussy.” Henry’s grin was absolutely filthy and she cried out as his words brought forth her second orgasm of the night.
“Oh fuck, yes!” He grunted his grin widening, his hips snapping harder against hers, dragging out the ripples of pleasure shaking her body. “Just like that! Yeah. Fuck! I’m gonna…”
His words hung in the air as Henry stilled above her, muffling his growl against her shoulder as he spilled inside her and she could feel his cock pulsing against her quivering walls and Em never felt more complete before.
In the back of her mind, a treacherous thought broke free and she couldn’t help but think that she could definitely get used to this. Having Henry every night, without barriers, without anything in the way. Just the two of them. Like it was meant to be.
x(tbc)x Chapter 02
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Not Alone: Chapter Ten
-> an apocalyptic series with bnha characters but without quirks because I'm the writer and i can do whatever the fuck i want :3 yo im so sorry for not posting this yesterday i had two softball games and when i got home i just wanted to relax so i hope this makes up for it <3
-> Word Count: 2.1k
-> Warnings: the infected, thas bout it lol
-> Taglist: @5sosfckss @laudthingcat @zphilophobiaz
Y/n woke up to a wolf paw in her face. Hades kicked slightly in his dream and scratched her cheek. She pushed it away and looked around. She was more comfortable than she had ever been, since before.
Jirou was passed out with her arms around Hades. He loved to snuggle when he slept. Y/n smiled, knowing that he was getting more comfortable in the new space.
The light of day was filtering in through the canvas of the tent. It was small and cozy in the tent and the air had grown stale with the three of them breathing in it.
She stretched and realized what she was wearing. It was a loose t-shirt with the word ‘hide’ on it, the shirt was black and too big for her. She was also wearing jeans with tears and holes on the knees. She felt a bit of a breeze in the back felt around her but to discover holes back there as well. She frowned. She needed her pants back.
“You’re finally up.”
Y/n turned around to see Bakugo smiling at her. He was beautiful. She couldn’t stop herself from gawking at him in his black t-shirt with a skull design and his dark gray sweatpants. His eyes met hers and he noticed the way her eyes traveled his body.
“How come you get pants with no holes?”
He laughed, “We only have so many clothes. The last trip to a mall was three years ago. We share everything.”
Y/n glanced at Mary who was snuggled against a guy holding the little brat, “Everything.”
He turned to see what Y/n was watching and he laughed again, “Not not everything. She’s just really friendly Y/n. She’s like that with everyone. But if you’re interest we have a few girls who’re single.”
“What?”
“If you’re interested.”
Y/n shook her head, “I don’t know what you mean.” Bakugo laughed at her. He was in on a joke that she was not.
He sighed, “So want to go over the map with me?”
“I told you last night, I don’t know maps. I know where I’ve been by remembering the woods.”
“What?”
Y/n pointed to the tent, “I need her to stay here and be protected. She’s sixteen. She’s lived a hard life.”
Bakugo made a face that made Y/n laugh, “Yeah I figured she was staying.”
“Her mom and aunt just died, Her other aunt was taken to the breeder farms.”
His red eyes sparkled, “She’s just our kind of girl then.”
She was confused by him, but she didn’t have time to figure him out. She couldn’t get the picture of him playing the guitar in the firelight out of her head. It was almost like there were two of him inside of his body. Sweet Bakugo and Business Bakugo.
Mary came over carrying the monster.
“Andy, what do you have to say to Y/n?”
The boy looked down at the ground and pouted, “Sorry.”
He fidgets with her blouse and looks up to meet Y/n’s frown with a smile.
“Okay thanks.” Bakugo and Mary laughed. “Mary, will you watch Jirou until I get back?”
She leaned up and hugged Y/n, “Be safe Y/n and hurry back.”
Y/n hugged her back. She still hugged like an iron rod. She noticed the waay Mary hugged like a person and she hugged like a robot. She hugged just like Mina and her heart hurt thinking about them.
She turned and opened the tent, “I’m leaving Jirou. You need to stay here and help out okay. They need the extra hands.”
Jirou woke up and instantly gave Y/n a snarl, “No. I’m coming with you.”
Y/n shook her head, “No you need to stay and hang with Mary. I’m taking Bakugo to the farmhouse. I’ll be back in a couple days.”
She layed back down, “Fine.”
Y/n looked at Hades, “You coming or staying?” He stretched out on the sleeping bags and snuggled into Jirou who laughed.
“He likes me better.”
Y/n rolled her eyes, “Traitor. She zipped the tent back up and walked back to Bakugo, whose eyes sparkled in the morning light. “What?”
Bakugo shook his head, amused by Y/n for something, “You’re funny Y/n.”
Xxxx
The walk back down the mountain was less painful and considerably faster than the walk up. Her feet didn’t hurt and Bakugo kept a fast pace. Unlike Jirou, he never spoke.
When they made it back to the meeting tree, they both paused and listened. She led across the open field with a sprint. They made it to the edge of the field and crouched down to look for any signs of life in the driveway. The barn swung open and shut. They’re back. She knew that she sealed the barn door completely when she left. She could hear Bakugo’s breath on the back of her neck as she watched the house silently.
She turned and whispered, “Let me go look first.”
He shook his head and pointed to the barn door. She turned and looked again.
She almost jumped when she saw them. It felt as though they were watching her. As the barn door swung open and shut a pair of eyes watched from inside. Stains of bloody tears streaked the gaunt cheeks below.
Her stomach twists and turns and she backed up but Bakugo put his arm on her to stop her from running away,
“Stay still.” His words made her skin shiver, as his hot breath landed on the back of her neck. Y/n didn’t move. The barn door opened and closed several more times. Then suddenly it opened and the eyes were gone.
She looked up at the loft window to see the thin figure pass by it. The window overlooked the field perfectly. They would be seen. Suddenly she was on the ground, in the hay and wrapped up in Bakugo’s long body. He held her close to him.
The wind played with the hay around them, it whispered to them.
She could feel his heart beating against her chest. They were face to face but her eyes darted around them. She heard footsteps. She heard something else, it was the way an exhale sounded when your throat was a ragged mess.
The infected were near them. She wanted to pull her shirt over her face. She wanted to run. She needed her mask but she had left it behind. Another rule she had broken.
Bakugo stroked his thumb along the back of her neck, where his left hand lay. He was trying to calm her nerves, before she gave away our location. In the gusts of warm wind and the calm silence of the ragged exhales, she heard a sound she didn’t expect. It was the hollering of men and the high moans of the infected.
The footsteps left the hay around us. The moaning and ragged breath became harder to hear, as distance was put between them.
Bakugo whispered into her forehead, “Oh my fucking god.” They laid in silence for a moment. He peeked his up to look around but she pulled him back down.
“One more minute.” He frowned but as she spoke the barn door closed several times hard. A raucous noise filled the air, different types of commotion began after it. “We need to leave now.” She whispered into his throat.
He pulled back a bit and looked at her, almost looking through her with his intensely red eyes. He tilted her chin with his free hand and lightly feathered his lips against mine. His kiss wasn’t intense like Kirishima’s was or soft like Mary’s. It was somewhere in the middle and filled with more of everything. He kissed beside her mouth and whispered into her cheek, “We’re going to crawl from here and then make our way to the forest on the other side from where we came. We don’t want to lead them to the camp.”
He kissed once more just along the side of her lips and let her out of his firm grip. He moved away from her and slithered backwards, away from the farmhouse. She followed him. The hay slicing along her skin gave her small cuts. When they got to the halfway point between the forest and farmhouse, Bakugo stood and hunched over. She did the same, listening intently to every sound.
They made their way into the forest where he broke into a run. She followed him until they reached the bigger trees. He climbed one of them quickly. She looked around and started to feel uncomfortable. She didn’t like to be on the ground without Hades. She climbed the next largest tree and scrambled up the branches until she was as high as he was.
The farmhouse, her farmhouse, was nearly entirely in view. She could see the field she had crossed too many times to count. Pain crept around inside of her as she imagined her bunker and rations and her clean little spaces, all torn apart by the infected.
“So Mina and Kirishima were here with you?” His voice betrayed his lack of hope.
She nodded. She saw a small cluster of men fighting the infected like fools. They would get sick. They would become infected and maybe they would die because not everyone was able to live with running sores and bloody tears.
“God, they should have run.” She recognized one of them. He was the man who shouted the loudest when the man with the evil grin peed on the fire. The man who pulled down her pants.”
“Those men held me captive. They’re the others.”
“Do you know where their camp is?”
“Yup. I’d like to avoid it.”
“What if they have Kirishima and Mina?”
The pain in his eyes hurt Y/n somehow, “I never said I was going to avoid it. I said I’d like to. I’m betting they have Kirishima and Mina.” She took one last look and knew it would be a long time before she ever came back,, if she ever did. She took her last look at the white siding and the small windmill in the front yard waved goodbye to her. As her feet made their way back down the tree, she saw something that made her feel the smallest amount of fear and hope simultaneously. On the ground is a small bandage and above it was a broken branch. She looked deeper into the forest and saw another broken branch. “They got away. They’re this way.” She pointed.
Bakugo looked at the bandage and scoffed, “Y/n that could belong to anyone.”
She shook her head,”No it’s not. It’ll smell like tea tree and the branches,” She pointed to them, “I told Kirishima it was howI always found my way through the woods.”
He bent his face to the ground and sniffed the air around the bandage, “It’s tea tree.” Y/n turned to run, but he grabbed her arm as he stood and pulled her into him. “One thing first.” He put his hands on the small of her back and lifted her into his arms. His lips met hers with desperation and excitement. His tongue slipped into her mouth, caressing hers. He sucked and nibbled on her lower lip as his hand rubbed her back. Suddenly his hands made their way lower and didn’t feel uncomfortable as he cupped her ass and lifted her into him/ He wrapped her legs around him. She was feeling the way she used to when she read the romance novels stored at the cabin. She felt a heat rising low in her belly.
He let her slide down his body, till her feet touched the ground again. Air rushed between them. She opened her eyes, not realizing she had closed them, and looked up into his face.
He grinned, “I’m going to have a hard time staying focused.” Y/n giggled like a schoolgirl. It was the first time that sound had left her lips. He kissed her softly one last time and walked away toward the broken branches and Y/n followed. “I never imagined they were alive. I went back to where they were when I got taken and I couldn’t find them. I knew Kirishima wasn’t very responsible- well neither of us were.” He ran a hand through his blonde shaggy hair.
“Mina told me you guys were pretty bad at paying attention.”
He chuckled and Y/n caught herself staring at his butt. It was round and firm and when he took a step, it moved in a way she enjoyed. She realized when she watched him, that she felt a small amount of guilt. Kirishima kissed her too. Kirishima made her smile and made her laugh.
Bakugo made her scared of him but safe against the world, where as Kirishima made her feel the opposite.
#eek#mha#bnha#apocalypse#apocalypse au#mha angst#bnha angst#kirishima eijiro x reader#bakugo katsuki x reader#kirishima eijiro#mina ashido#bakugo katsuki#jirou kyouka#kirishima#mina#bakugo#y/n#kirishima x you#bakugo x you#reader insert#x reader#kirishima x reader#bakugo x reader#eijiro x reader#katsuki x reader#eijiro kirishima#ashido mina#katsuki bakugo#chapter10#angst
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driver’s license
post-canon, angst ahoy
She gets her driver’s licence on Saturday.
On Sunday morning, she takes her first drive alone, and it’s to the last place she should go.
The roads are empty, the rest of Sherwood sensibly asleep in their beds. Last night was another sleepless one, bolting up in her bed with her hands clamped over her mouth and her whole body trembling violently, not stopping until she had paced the length and breadth of her bedroom about fifty times. She was wide awake by that point, too shaken by her nightmares to even try to go back to sleep. She sat against the window, head against the wall, watching her breath fogging up the glass, obscuring the perfect picture on the other side.
He was there, of course. He’s always here in the morning, especially when she wakes up like this. She didn’t turn around, didn’t see him, but felt the weight of his gaze on her anyway. Pleading, lonely, begging her to turn around and come back to him. To slip into his arms and get lost in his words again, to let him strip her away with his touch. And the worst part is that she wanted to. She wanted to do it; there’s some magnetic force that still sits in her and it keeps pulling her towards JD even though she knows he’s gone. It becomes a game two of them play and she loses every single time; if she resists, it hurts, and if she gives in… she doesn’t know, she never has, but it can’t end up good.
Her keys were in her hand before she even knew what she was doing, and she was pulling out of the driveway as the sun rises.
She’s not dressed for a drive; a pair of black pyjama bottoms and an old, old blue sweater. It’s one of the things from before she was a Heather and most importantly-something JD had never seen her in. That’s one of the worst things about this, about him. His fingerprints aren’t just over her body, but all over her clothes too. Invisible to everyone except her. Lines run up and down her blazers where he caressed her, the outline of his hand on her skirt where he ripped it off her body. When she first saw him, she thought ‘now there’s a person I’m never going to forget’. Now she’d give anything for that to be wrong.
She doesn’t think she knows where she’s going, not until she turns right at one junction and feels her blood run cold. It’s funny, she thinks. She hasn’t been here in months and yet it still looks exactly the same. She avoided this place like the plague afterwards. She still could. There’s no-one here and no-one checks the traffic cameras here, not in a street like this. She could turn around and head in the other direction, and she should. But the wheels keep turning, slow but still forwards, and her hands stay locked where they are. The steering wheel barely budges.
She must have been on this street before him. She’s lived in this town her whole life and could draw out a map from memory. It’s not that big after all. She has vague recollections of a birthday party happening somewhere around here, and another of a family barbeque on this street. She trick or treated a few times here as well, first with her parents and then with Martha. But all those are irrelevant now. From here on out this will be known as JD’s street and JD’s street only.
She pulls the car into a sloppy park, thankful for the cautious residents keeping their cars in garages, and leans back in her seat. She doesn’t need to turn that much to see the house beside her.
There’s a new family that lives there now. A mom and dad and two elementary school kids. Both girls. One with dark curly hair in pigtails and the other with a black ponytail, secured with a ribbon. She had watched them the first day they moved in, laughing together, the dad tugging on the girls’ pigtails, the mom organising the move in. What must it be like inside now, with boxes unpacked and furniture sitting proudly. A home, not just a house. A place big enough for all of them. It must have been excited, to have so many of its rooms used.
That’s what struck Veronica when she first went over with him. How big it was, for a family of two. She shakes her head. You could hardly call JD and his father a “family”. Not because of their size, but because of them. They were barely even acquaintances. They merely lived under the same roof and shared the same blood; that was the beginning and end of their relationship. Veronica had wondered why Big Bud Dean had chosen this house, how much it must have cost him, and it was only a week or so ago she had realised; he didn’t care. Why would he, when he’d just leave in the next three months anyway? He picked the first available place, and it just so happened to be a family home.
She had watched him leaving. She swears to herself she isn’t a stalker, but she’s finding that harder and harder to believe. What would you call someone who goes through hoops to find out the day and hour a man is moving out of his house and then skips school just to stand on the street and watch him? What must he think of her, that is, if he even noticed her at all. Too busy wrapped up in himself to notice other people, that’s what JD always said about his father. There’s not a lot she agrees with JD on, but she has to give him that.
She pulls her sweater tighter around herself and blinks, her eyes suddenly stinging and blurry. The last time she went over there, really went over there, rather than hovering on the other side of the street, was the day it happened. She had walked up to that door with ash in her hair and blood on her face, and knocked three times before he had answered. He regarded her with this cool, confused glance, as though he was trying to remember when he had seen her before, and she had bitten her tongue and watched as realisation dawned on his face.
“You’re Jason’s girl, aren’t you?” he had asked. That was the first time she had heard him say his son’s name, she realised. Their little game must end whenever JD wasn’t around. He took a long drink of his beer then and shrugged at her. “Whaddya want?”
Her nails had dug into her palms, leaving burning red marks, and she just about manged to say “your son’s dead” through her tight throat, tears plink-plonking down her face.
He blinked at her, a moment passed, and then another, before he let out an unimpressed-sounding “really?”.
She does wonder what would have happened if Heather Duke hadn’t stumbled upon her at that moment and dragged her away from him, kicking and screaming and swearing all the way down. She pulls her sweater tighter around her. Her throat hurts at the memory. The entire street had come out to see the commotion and what little good standing she still had blew away like dust. Good, straight-A, Harvard bound Veronica had screamed “go fuck yourself” at a seemingly innocent man who just lost his son.
She doesn’t regret it though.
The first hues of blue appear around the edges of the sky now, but according to her clock it’s still far too early for her parents to be up. Her body goes limp in the seat, her head falling to the side, and her eyes flicker up to the window on the second-floor window. On the day they moved in, she saw the light go on in that bedroom and the pink paint going up on the walls. One of the young girls is using it as her room now, and she almost laughs. She plays with her dolls, no idea what two stupid kids did in there, oblivious to how he had pinned her against that wall and she had stripped him down, shivering as he whispered “you’re mine” in her ear.
Or about the soft, stolen kisses they shared on his bed at night, the two of them lying on his bed, their eyes on the ceiling, and talking about the future. Their future, he had said. Where she would go to college and where he would go. Where they should move to, because Veronica was adamant she wasn’t staying in Sherwood forever. And when they’d get their driver’s licences.
“I want mine as soon as I can,” she had told him. “I’ve been dreaming about it since forever. I’ve practiced in my dad’s car.”
“I was wondering how that dent got there,” he had said. She elbowed him in the ribs for that comment. “Suppose I don’t need to. I have my bike.”
“You have a licence for that thing, right?” She turned to him then, studying his profile and feeling a lingering sense of doubt in the back of her mind. That feeling always accompanied them wherever they went, like the hangover to the ecstasy his touch brought. “JD?”
“Course I do, Ronnie,” he had told her, and he pulled her against his chest. “You think I’d take my favourite girl on a bike if I didn’t have a licence for it?”
His favourite girl. He didn’t call her that a lot, maybe once or twice in their entire short-lived relationship, but damn did she love it. He was like that. Good at making her feel special. Like she was made of something precious. Diamonds in her eyes, gold in her veins. To him, she was better than every other girl around and she’s so, so ashamed of the fact that she liked that.
But how much did he really value her in the end?
She slams her hand on the dashboard, hard, and cries out as the dull pain pulses beneath her skin. Tears run down her face, replacing those from earlier this morning. Those haven’t yet dried. She tucks her knees up against her chest, burying her face in them so that the sound of her cries is muffled. She doesn’t know why; not like anyone is awake at this point to be disturbed by a stupid girl like her crying in her car.
He swore he loved her. Over and over again and you’d think that the words would wear themselves out but they never did. They just kept getting bigger and he kept burning hotter and brighter until he scorched her hands when she tried to touch him. He had whispered it reverently into her hair as she slept and murmured it against her lips and even in that house, with the barrel of a gun pointed directly at her, he said it. That was the moment she realised it wasn’t true. Somewhere amongst the pain and the confusion and the splitting headache she looked at him, and she looked at the gun, and asked herself, how could his lips say he loves her while his hand is ready to kill her? Not that he needed a gun to kill her. Maybe he knew that, and so the gun was just to play with her.
He had promised her. That’s the part that hurts more than anything else. The promise he broke, and how he used those jagged edges to cut her open. He promised her he was going to change, swore to her on the love he claimed was God. JD was nothing if not passionate, and for all she knew he meant that at the time. Or maybe he didn’t, and it was all just a game to him. It’s been so long now and it’s still so hard to tell.
She sobs again, a heavy pain tugging on her torn-apart heart. She’s an idiot, and a fool, and a fucking moron and every other damn thing Heather Chandler has called her these past months. Not that she had much of a backbone before but now she can’t even bring herself to be annoyed at her. Because it’s true. Because what kind of person lives through all that, lives through JD and all manipulation and all his lies, and watches as he points a gun at her with nothing but coldness in his eyes, and is still in love with him after that? How does she spring awake from nightmares in the morning and spend the afternoon missing the feeling of his lips against hers? If she loves JD, despite everything he was, then what kind of person does that make her? What gives her the right to lie awake at night and mourn the future she would never have, when three people are cold in their graves because of him?
Her hand finds its way to the glove compartment and suddenly the little plastic card is in her hand, her eyes staring up at her. No-one has commented on it but surely everyone sees it; the look in her eyes that’s hung around ever since that day. She flinches sometimes, when she sees herself in the mirror. What’s become of her; thin, hollow cheeks and shadows beneath her dull, dead eyes, clothes hanging off her shoulders. JD didn’t just end his life when he took that bomb. She might still be breathing, but most days it feels like that’s all she’s doing.
She slams her hand on the dashboard again, and then it happens again, and again and again until she’s banging against it in a fierce, fast rhythm, her mouth open and a burning, broken scream pouring out of it. It tears out of her throt and fills the car, shaking the glass in the windows and ringing in her ears. This isn’t how it was supposed to have happened. She was supposed to run out of the DMV and into his waiting arms, have her feet swept off the ground as he tells her how proud he is of her. She was supposed to drive through the streets with him in the passenger’s seat, sneaking sideways glances at him as the wind tousled his hair. They were supposed to drive up to the hill together and sit over the town, her head on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around her, making more stupid plans for the future. She was meant to tease him about getting her licence first and he was meant to roll his eyes and kiss her to shut up her up. He should have been something else, and she should be waking up with butterflies in her stomach rather than lead in her lungs.
She sits back and shakes her head at herself. Her hand is red and pulsing with pain from where she smacked it. She’s ridiculous. Since when does she have the right to decide what was ‘meant’ to happen? JD thought that. He declared it on the other side of her closet door- “I was meant to be yours, we were meant to be one”. As far as he was concerned, the universe is, was, theirs, and they were the masters over what happened in it. And she’s not that person, she’s dragging herself away from being that person every day, even if it means her nails are caked with blood and dirt. She doesn’t get to choose what happens, not or herself or anyone, and she doesn’t get to sit here and claim what that he should have been something different.
It doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.
Her mom told her she’d love someone again, a few weeks after the pep rally when she was in a particularly bad state of mind. She had sat on the edge of her bed and run her fingers through her hair and told her that he might have been the first, but he wouldn’t be the last. Her heart won’t be broken forever. She had nodded and murmured something in agreement, and waited until her mom smiled and patted her head before she left. What her mom doesn’t know is that JD didn’t break her heart-he put a bomb in it and blew it up. And whatever she felt for him, there’ll be no feeling it for anyone ever again.
She looks back over at the house. There’s a light on in the kitchen and she slides lower in the seat, despite being safe from view already. Who could it be? The dad maybe, or the mom, getting ready for the day ahead, or maybe one of the kids catching the morning cartoons or treating themselves to cookies for breakfast. It doesn’t really matter, what matters is they’re in that house now and neither Jason nor Big Bud Dean are. For better or worse, there’s no trace of him left in Sherwood, Ohio, not except her memories and one page in the yearbook. One day she’ll make peace with that fact.
She turns the key in the ignition and the car rumbles into life again, annoyed after being neglected for so long. She lets out a long, steady breath, the last of her tears running down her face like rain down her windshield. She turns the wheel, peels away from the kerb, and hopes she’ll never come back to this street for as long as she lives. She doesn’t know if her heart can take it again.
#heathers the musical#heathers fanfic#veronica sawyer#jason dean#jdronica#idk what the fuck this is but it's a thing i wrote#stream drivers license ig
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golden age of youth
title: golden age of youth
pairing: lee hoseok/reader
genre: racer!au/rivals to lovers!au
summary: everyone can recognize the racer with the big smile and sparkling eyes—the hero of formula one, lee hoseok. in the lineal passage of time, another racer appears with adrenaline pumping through her veins and a sharp mouth to put everyone in their places. talent exudes from the two, as well as attraction, but to love there must be something more than an adrenaline rush.
type: angst/fluff/romance/humor/suggestive
word count: 21,586
disclaimer: this is part of my august special called ‘the anti-love club’. each story can be read individually, however, you’d be getting a little bit more of backstory along with some easter eggs if you read each of them, as well as helping me with support. the masterlist can be found here.
People start coming to life when they are in a state of danger, running, with beads of sweat pooling at the skin of their nape and on their forehead, when their clothes feel too heavy on their bodies and the saliva on their mouths accumulate, excessive as they ask for more, for safety primarily. This is a game that she knows how to play—for she is the one that brings herself to dangerous races. If she knows something, it is stepping on a pedal with all the force she has on her body, controlling the wheel of racing cars and common cars alike, feeling the wind on her face when she need adrenaline the most. It just so happens that when she is there, shaking on top of a seat, smiling behind a helmet, is when she is at the most control of her life.
She has never liked the color beige—it’s dull, it means an ‘in-between’, it’s the color an older couple wear before going to sleep on the same bed, the color of coffee early in the morning, an awakening of sorts that she has never brought herself to enjoy. It’s the reason why she liked the color of her lips to be burgundy, just like the blood on her veins and arteries, matching her clothing and contrasting with her black or white cars, always polished, needily repaired by her own hands. She needs to race, she had said when she was merely nineteen, going against any odds of going to college, of living a normal and comfortable life. A sport, she claims it is, but it is more than that…
It’s a way of living. An irresponsible, entertaining, worrisome and somewhat addictive way of living, existing, breathing, enjoying.
Fast had not been the perfect way to describe her rise to the Formula One infamous racing, much less was it smooth. To her odds, she had the fact that she was a woman—not the daughter of some racer, not a spoiled brat with parents rich enough to insert her into the list of racers, but just another lover of cars that prided too much on the leather of the seats of her old car and spent too much time with a machine to ever be able to describe it in minutes. Had it not been for the woman by her side, someone who completely understood the struggles of being part of something that is usually (and mistakenly) connected to men, she would have not been there.
Meeting Heejung was easy. With her body mostly hidden by the overalls of her mechanic shop and her love for changing cars into something different from their beginnings, it was bound for them to happen to meet. Heejung needed more clients, desired for someone to sport her brand one day...and she happened to crash her old Corolla in one of the many times she had gone out illegaly to race. Heejung did not utter a word, bleached hair seeking for life in that bun that she usually wore it in, the strands normally coated in oil, face filled with all the emotions in the world. At the time, Heejung had been almost a guardian angel—she took care of her when she was just beginning, getting noticed by more racers that had brought her to legal events instead, and whenever the adrenaline of rushing through life went too crazy on her head, she soothed out every bit of her ‘ride or die’ attitude.
No, she had not been a guardian angel for her. Heejung is her guardian angel, even now when she has finally reached a good spot in her career, enough to be able to be considered half a name in this industry. This is just the preparations of the main event, of the big Formula One race that everyone has been hyping up since last year, an introductory point for all the racers and a joy for brands that wanted to be sported by the figured of teenagers and adults alike. Her chest swelled with a feeling that made her feel full, taking in the air of pure contamination, smoke, nodding her head along to the sound of some rap song that is definitely looking to be the new sound of the summer. She felt like she belonged in there, with racers equal to her wearing uniforms with brand-names, though hers barely had any, showcasing the first smile of the night because who the fuck cares that she just got there in a Corolla, while everyone else had arrived in their sport cars?
Heejung releases a laugh behind her, quite girly for the way one would expect her to be, and she gripped the sides of her uniform to bring her closer to her front. Her back collided against Heejung’s chest, earning a soft huff from her. “Look at all these people. I can’t believe you actually made it to the point you can compete with our heroes.”
She lifts her nose at that, almost like a Queen would, looking ahead of her at the majority of the men there, some even women, all equally looking for the price of pride, money and most importantly, recognition. Fame was also needed in the world of adrenaline. “They are not our heroes anymore, Heejung. We have gone through this.” This kind of friendship comes from four years of being around each other. Indeed, a worker of Heejung’s mechanic shop is now a racer, the word of their small street and the reason why there are some posts about her shared in social media. A nobody, that is what she is, and yet, she feels like seeking for more. “They are our enemies now. We are looking for the grand prize—no, we are getting it.”
“Not with that attitude.” Heejung puckers up her mouth, pulling away from her friend and crossing her arms over her chest. “You need to be appealing to the public. Girly, flirty. You want to have a fan-base of horny men looking to spend their money on you. That’s how we rise on this business.”
The flickering lights of the paparazzi taking pictures of the people ahead of her, crowds and crowds piling up, had her moving forward in order to find someone who could recognize her. After all, she wants some appearances, even an interview, something that could get her name out there and make her savor the dream that she has fought so hard for. “I don’t do that kind of shit,” She mumbles, placing her hands inside her pockets as she walks. “I want to be respected, not lusted at.”
“Who said you can’t have both?” Heejung prompts, pushing her finger up in the air albeit with an idea. “Don’t think I’m telling you that you don’t have any talent. Quite the contrary. You’ll kick the ass of most people here, but if you have something to your advantage...why not take it?”
“Because you have said so yourself,” She points out, turning her head to the side to look at her friend. She scrunches up her nose, lowering her voice to match Heejung’s tone. “You attract the wrong kind of men. You don’t need a man to fuck you for one night. You need a man to fuck you with a ring on your finger that promises a forever. Some shit like that.”
“I said that once,” Heejung retorts, placing one hand over her heart. “And I did not mean for it to be so vulgar, but since that’s the only way you understand...”
“Heejung, I don’t need the attention of the male population to rise.” She argues, though this is just one of their conversations. One of those profound ones they used to have when they were having their morning coffee and Heejung would sigh in delight about her relationship with a fellow worker, Leo. Too in love, enough to make anyone puke, it was no wonder they had waited ten years in a relationship in order to get married. Quite cute if she was honest, just not her style. “Right now, if I happen to end up getting a guy, it’s because I want us to enjoy our time now. I don’t need a future.”
“What will you do once you’re old and wrinkly and alone?” Heejung questions, pushing through a group of people until they saw the booth of the magazine they were looking for. The biggest, yet most honest, magazine in the sports industry at the moment, of high interest for sponsors and for those who looked for respect as racers.
Her eyes almost seemed to be filled with stars and if she looked at herself, she swears she’d see a glint in them. Lips are pulled into a smirk, because she has rehearsed a big chunk of her life for this. She knows how to tuck her hair to the side and speak with authority, like she owns the place, as if her foot is heavy enough to run over the world itself. “I’ll get a Volkswagen and drive me the hell around town. That’s what I’m going to do. Enjoy my life.”
“You know what? Fair enough.” Heejung huffs, fixing her bun once again and leaving a few strands out, making her angled face look much softer with her thick lips pushed upwards. “I’ll stop having the friend talk and now I’m going to be your manager. I have various roles in your life.”
“I can already feel the rant—”
“Not only I am your manager and your friend, I’m also your mechanic. Your mom. Your nurse. Your sibling. Your brasswork assitant. I do everything for you. Publicist, too.” She huffs out before turning to look at her racer friend, taking her by the shoulders and releasing some pressure on the tense muscles. “There is a guy there, right, but we need to approach him as quickly as possible. He’s a journalist, the newest one—”
She quirks an eyebrow at that, trying to tease her friend. “How would you know that?”
“Leo knows him, remember? He went to college. I thought you knew he’s a journalist, either way—” Heejung closes her eyes tightly, as if scolding herself for talking too much before opening them once again. “His name is Matt. Well, Matt for short. He interviews just about anyone because he’s younger, much less important, and he releases some good articles online, including Instagram links. So we’re looking for him, I think he’s free right now.” Lacing her arms with Heejung’s, she feels her weight being dragged to get her to walk quicker. Heejung must be exercising more than her...or maybe she should just actually go for a walk instead of driving everywhere. “He’s the one seated there,” Heejung whispers once inside the publicity tent, pointing with her chin at one of the seats near the stage, the one that the most well-known racers used.
Actually, Matt is quite the unexpected sight. She expects some man with baggy pants and a Ferrari t-shirt, but instead she is welcomed by a lanky, tall man with glasses. Not weak looking at all, his brown gaze behind his glasses and his dull chocolate-hair just created contrast to him, wearing a sweater even when the amount of people there were enough to create body-heat for a million people. His camera hung around his neck and he seemed to be taking a breather, if his looking around is anything to go by, a notepad resting on his lap experly.
And yes, those are khakis. She definitely can see them now. She shouldn’t be afraid of someone like him, yet something about him exuded professionalism. Maybe, Heejung is right. Maybe, she should have tried to be a better actress instead of binging videos of the racers she looks up to, because a flutter of her eyelids and a much cleaner mouth could work to her favor here. Damn it for having the mouth of an angry ninety-year-old woman and for using too many profanities in her speech, because Heejung is suddenly walking her towards the man and she is starting to feel a tad bit nervous.
Which is strange, for someone who never gets nervous about anything—dates, due-dates and even racing through the smallest of streets in the highest of speeds—, she surely feels like her food must return from its trip at any given minute and end up on this man’s khakis.
“Hi, are you Matt?” Heejung asks softly, extending her hand for the man to take and he lifts his gaze from his notepad, finally seeing a bit of his smile on his delicate features.
“Yes. May I know who you are? I wasn’t actually waiting for anyone—” Matt speaks, voice filled with the seriousness that she had expected, that monotone voice that reminded her that this was a serious situation. What she said or didn’t could be recorded and used against her at any given moment.
“I’m Leo’s wife! He told me he had spoken to you so you could interview my client.” Heejung speaks with a smile on her face, wrapping her arm around her shoulder and shaking her slightly, like a mother who is proudly showing off that her daughter can race...and shouldn’t be proud of it. “She’s in the line-up for the race and pretty new, so a head start would work in our favor so much.”
Matt stands up at that, grasping the camera in between his fingers as recognition filled his face. “Ah yes, Leo,” Heejung seems to be delighted at the sound of her man’s name. Huh, so maybe love does work for some people and she just happens to be one of those who it had not worked for. “I remember him quite fondly. We used to hang out a lot in the printing room...since he worked there, you know, he’d sneak in some papers and wouldn’t ask me for more money.”
Well, that sounds exactly like the Leo who could spend his entire night in the shop if it meant pleasing every client, even if the car has no chance of being brought to life. “That’s delightful.”
Matt looks at her, at her silent, statue-like stance and she wonders why she hasn’t spoken, hasn’t used that confidence of hers to introduce herself, so she does. Or tries to, her hands are a bit clammy—though, if asked, she’d blame it on the weather—and her voice shakes when she says her name out loud. “I’m a huge fan of your magazine...and your work is amazing, too. Only have gotten a few glimpses, though, but I’m fucking glad I did.” Heejung nudges her side and had she looked at her, she knew she would widen her eyes because obscenities in a sentence aren’t pretty and because she hasn’t actually read anything from him.
Or if she has...she doesn’t know.
Oh God, what if he asks what her favorite article of his is?
Though, Matt’s smile reaches his eyes, taking his pen out of the pocket of his dark blue sweater, clicking it and writing her name down on the small notebook. “Haven’t gotten that in a while. As a writer in a magazine, you barely get any recognition.”
“It happens.” She whispers, lifting her head when Matt looks at her and giving him a tight smile. Tight and fake smile, because she is far too casual for these types of things. She can’t come up with a story, taken out of her ass, about how her racing abilities came from some bonding experience when she was a child or because she had to find a way to escape from her reality. The truth is...she did it because she felt like it, because her desire to be on edge surpassed any rational thought. She had taken a car, pressed on the pedal too hard and liked it. Then, her own thrive was what led her to be there.
“So—”
“Matt!” The boisterous voice of a man, albeit shorter than Matt himself and visibly older, more pompous, had interrupted the guy’s speech before he could start interviewing her and his posture straightened when the loud man came over to hug him, gripping him for a few minutes and lifting him up his feet just in time to hear more masculine, definitely smoother laughter. The source of the voice catches her attention, making her look just to catch a glimpse of exactly who should have not been there at that time. “Wonho is here for the interview. What are you doing there losing time?! My guy finished an interview early to give you your article.”
“O-Oh—” Matt utters, unhooking himself from the hug and sending an apologetic glance at the two women in front of him. “Better not make him wait, then.”
Wonho greets him with a handshake, looking at her from the corner of his eyes and sending a charming smile her way, along with Heejung’s. This is the dream client for someone like Heejung, definitely a people pleaser. “No, don’t worry. Do your thing, I’ll wait.”
Matt shakes his head, perhaps tranced from the thick muscles and the soft scent that belonged to Wonho, but she doesn’t forget the way he easily dismisses her existence and Heejung’s with a quick: “They can wait! Let’s just start your interview.”
The rockstar of cars, the biggest, the loveliest Formula One racer, the same one that had every racer shaking on their feet, winner of last year, owned by magazines and brands. Oh, she knows his name—even past his artistic one, he calls himself Wonho when on his zone, on his own stage, but when he is out of racing, he is Lee Hoseok. With ashy black hair that often hides under his helmet, once off falling down his smooth forehead, giving life to his dark and understanding eyes, smile worth a trillion more than hers will ever. The muscles are definitely a plus, surely, enough to catch her gaze when he turns around and moves along Matt and his manager.
Nice ass, she thinks, still belonging to the enemy, so that deems it not worthy of her interest.
Someone like him doesn’t have to wait, not when he makes everyone swoon with the red color of the tip of his big ears whenever he is feeling a bit shy. Not when his voice is charming, dragging on certain syllables, using the ‘s’ at his favor to make it sound more profound. Charming, that he is, exactly what she lacks and maybe, that is what this Formula One race is looking for.
They want someone to stand in the cover of magazines holding their brand. They want someone who appeals to a bigger audience.
Or wanted, now they’ll want her talent. No matter how against the rules she is in the world of publicism.
“You know what, I don’t need to wait. Much less do I need to be disrespected like this.” She mumbles, tightening the zipper of her uniform and bringing it up to her neck, licking the inside of her cheek as she moves towards the set of cars, the real racing cars, where in about twenty minutes they’ll make some demonstration for people to feel more hyped for the main event. In a week, and yet making her feel high on adrenaline.
Heejung is following behind her, sneakers dragging against the concrete and pushing through the groups of people. “W-Wait. No, we’ll have to wait. Yes or yes.”
“I’ll teach Matt that I’m better than that Wonho guy.” She releases into the air, turning around just in time to catch Heejung in her arms when their chests collided together.
“Don’t—Don’t be making enemies already!”
“He’s not my enemy, per se, I’ll change the term.” She says. “He’s my rival. I accept he’s a fine piece of ass and that he’s an excellent racer but—” She cuts herself off, catching her helmet as Leo throws it her way, also one of her team. “I either win or I win. There’s no in-between.”
At first, the sentiment is too fast for her to catch it. Twenty minutes later, she is seated inside her small racing car, waiting for that one signal that starts it all. A noise and then, she simply steps on the pedal, wishing for everyone ahead of her to simply leave her alone. It starts at her feet, as if electricity is brought from any shake of the device, going up her calves and her legs, releasing all sort of tension from them and bringing a sense of purpose to her gut. She finally feels like she is complete, a smile behind her mask when she turns on a corner, when she hears the engine roar to life, as animalistic as it can get. She can’t think, she doesn’t have enough time to, looking at the quickened faces that she can’t make out, but mostly at the road ahead of her. Gray, a color that she loves, very welcomed behind her fiery eyes, feisty when she stops hearing the noise of other cars from up close. That must mean she is first or has finished as last.
Someone is by her side, then appearing in front of her in his own racing car. Black uniform, broad shoulders and those bunch of sponsor names written on the fabric, enough to have his life secured in his rich lifestyle. She knows who this man is, the one trying to pass by her, the same one that makes it insufferable to look to her right when all the cameras are flashing to take a picture of him. The God of racing, Lee Hoseok.
Wonho.
She needs to beat him.
She steps harder on the pedal, as if she could, feeling the sole of her feet shoot an ache up her calf, moving her steering wheel until she is by his side. She plays around a bit with the pedal, wanting the car to be nosy as it passes by him again, this time around not caring so much about the beauty of her turns but simply wanting to get to the end line. She does, apparently, but not in enough time to beat Hoseok’s car, who simply passes by her in a millisecond, as if he had caught up on her technique.
He probably did, he is definitely not stupid. He uses that smile of his, sweet and deliciously charming, to his favor.
Anger has her throwing her helmet on the floor once she gets out of the car. A tantrum, yes, but hidden by the way she places her hands on her hips and breathes in deeply. Anyone that looked at her, at the fucking second place that she is right now, would think she is just tired and for the sake of Heejung not giving her an earful, she better act like she is, but when she looks at Hoseok, he is already looking at her. Chuckling slightly, his shoulders shake when he lifts his hand up to greet his crowd. People cheer for him, watch as he nears her and extends his hand for her to take. Over the noise, she can make out the sound of his dulcet voice when he says:
“I don’t know what I was expecting from you, but you’re way better than anyone could have ever imagined. Good job.” Oh, of course he had to be nice. He just had to. Something about him had to be topped by his outgoing personality, like he’ll always make you feel like you belong, smooth with the way he speaks. For a moment, she feels like falling for it, and she half does, but the bigger part of herself is the one that makes her hand go forward, grasp him with such force that even a gym-rat like him stumbles forward, bumping her shoulder with his to make a statement when she speaks, loud and clear, enough to reach the ears of whoever is around them. Press or not.
“Just wait until I win over you on the night of the race. I’ll do a better job then.” Hoseok’s eyebrows lift at that, holding his helmet to his side, pressed to his waist when he sees a smile appear on her face. The contact of his hand had been so soft, almost tender in comparison of her rough hands from so much working, but she couldn’t think twice about his charms.
Only that she did. Something about winning against him was...thrilling. No one could stop her if she got the Lee Hoseok, the one and only, to give her a second glance. His smile doesn’t falter, instead he continues the conversation.
“I can’t wait.” Hoseok announces, biting his bottom lip and looking to the sides, chuckling a bit to himself.
“Don’t laugh so much. You’ll be begging me to hang out with you once that night is over.” She can hear the shouts of Heejung inside her brain, like she is telling her that this is going to be bad press but who is she kidding? This is what she wants...and possibly, what those gossip-thirsty people want.
“Huh, even if you don’t win, I might.” Those words she did not expect, almost making her smile falter but it only presses harder, the light behind her eyes changing as if they were alone in that people-packed world. His eyes connect with her, the depths of them showing a saint but reading a hidden...sin, almost like he is an angel with dark wings.
Maybe he is, but she’ll make sure to figure it out.
“Got you interested?”
He shrugs. “Maybe.” He answers, before putting his helmet on again. “Next time around, though, just some advice.” His sweetened tone held a smile, she could feel it, much more when he takes her hand again and lets his thumb rub the back of it, more delicate than she could ever be. Perhaps, they are actually polar opposites, connected by the idea of proving which one is better. They want to rule over the other, acting upon attraction, tethering into playful banter. “Don’t throw a tantrum. It’s a cute look, not a good one.”
And with that, he leaves. His manager is talking to him as he speaks, once again pleasing the paparazzi that are asking for him, asking for more and more of Lee Hoseok and she stands there, ignored, no one compared to the master of racing. When she turns, however, Heejung is already making grabby-hands at her neck, fingers curling against each other and showing what seems to be frustration.
Uh-oh.
...Maybe flirting in front of hundreds of people was actually not a good idea.
But when has she ever had one of those?
🚗
With her back pressed to the mechanic’s creeper, knees bent and one of her hands holding a flashlight up to the bottom of the car whilst the other is working diligently, she realizes that she never really follows the rules. If ever. While everyone in the mechanic shop is wearing their overalls perfectly, zipped up, coated in oil and black tints plastered all over the fabric, she has the long sleeves of her overalls wrapped around her waist, her white tank top silently asking for mercy thanks to all the dirt that has now accumulated over her chest. Not that she can bring herself to care, much less when she is on her fourth cup of coffee of the morning, excited to get her car to start working after dying on her while in her way back to her house.
Someone must have noticed the lack of coffee, because Leo starts the coffee machine right after asking his wife: “Babe, did you finish this coffee? I left it full just an hour ago.”
Okay, so maybe the grand night of the Formula One race was getting closer and her need of coffee comes from the fact that she hasn’t slept very well. Or at all. The ache behind her eyelids is painful when she tries to concentrate on the little, smallest pieces of the car, almost like a surgeon who is looking for that exact mistake that has been bothering the entire body. Someone had noticed the reason as to why there is no more coffee in the shop, though. “I didn’t finish it, but I know who did.” The thud of Heejung’s foot against her calf makes her let out a breath in surprise, a smile appearing on her face soon after. “Say sorry to Leo, you big child.”
“I’m sorry, Leo!” She utters from under the car, unable to contain the giggles that bubble up from her chest. This is what happiness is about, feeling the crispy sun entering from the open gates of the shop, hearing the coffee brewing as quickly as it can, smelling like old cars and leather seats. This is not a world of Maserati’s and rains of money, but it will be one day. She’s hopeful, loyal, waiting for the time she can finally glow to her fullest potential. If she doesn’t sleep before this race, however, she won’t even be able to win.
“Don’t scold her so much.” Leo adds in that sweetened tone of his and she can imagine the sweet-looking man with the rounded cheeks nudging his wife’s side. “She’s under a lot of pressure.”
“You know more than anyone that I love her with my entire heart,” And she is certain Heejung really does such thing. No one wakes up at midnight to help their friend out pushing her car back home. No one becomes a manager of their best friend who is far too stubborn for her own good. No one would have done that, for her or for anyone like her, driving through a dead-end street for the sake of their friendship. “...But she does this even if she is not about to race for Formula One.”
“Stop talking about me as if I’m not in the room.” She says, somewhat scared that they’d realize just how nervous she is. Shaken to the core, not because of her abilities, she trusts those, but because there is someone better than her already...Lee Hoseok, who in the little publicity stunt had sat her back down on her place, as if she was insignificant and while she knows he did it simply to tease her, one of his tactics coming from the electricity between them, she still feels somewhat...thoughtful.
Enraged, but the kind of enraged that has her smiling when she realizes that—huh, Lee Hoseok is the type of man to have the sweetest smile in the world, yet be endlessly honest.
For a moment, she gets tranced in her own car. This old thing that she had bought with money that should have gone for her rent, but back then she didn’t know any better. It just screamed for her to own it, mostly because it reminded her of one of the first few magazines she had peeked at when her interest in cars and racing grew. It’s from the nineties, surely, it looks like it belongs to that era, but some classics never really get ancient. Nonetheless, nowadays it was difficult to keep it up its feet. With the money she has earned from precious races, though still not as big as what she’d earn does she win the race that’ll take place in three days, she has been able to make it look somewhat decent. Still, the engine is a headache and underneath, it looks as if it had been hit a thousand times before she bought it.
Probably true, but the most gorgeous of things are filled with memories of hardships.
The moment grows larger, longer, keeping her under the car more than necessary, only getting out when she needs to try out the car to no avail. At some point, her back is aching so badly that it cracks when she gets on the creeper again, the smell of coffee long gone, Leo now on his third car of the day and Heejung must be somewhere, but she can’t bring herself to look for her right now. When she bites down on her bottom lip, doing a few arrangements that will take her to the exact position her car should be in, she hears the sound of thick, dense boots kicking against the concrete of their shop, whoever this is stood by the side of her car, leaving him with a view of the black, stylish boots said man wore for the afternoon. Whoever this is has a tough walk, strong muscles and—
“Uh, good afternoon. May I have your help? My car just died on me right now, the engine is not even roaring and I had to push it all the way here.” That voice, angelic but with an edge, not pompous although he is a man of wealth, somewhat humble as well. The delicate lisp that gives out that this is Lee Hoseok. The...rival that is now in her quarter, in her zone, asking for help from no other than her own team.
She’d roll out from underneath the car, but she is hiding. Seeing him would mean that she’d up saying something competitive, yet stupidly romantic and flirty because there is something about him that she wants to have, own even for the slightest of seconds. Luckily for her, the man doesn’t seem to be paying attention to her, instead listening to the sound of Heejung’s voice.
“Ah, yes. We’ll gladly help you. Is your car out there? I’m free right now.” Heejung is political. She knows how to speak and how to do it, unlike her. She can imagine the smile on her face and from the distance, she hears Leo stopping with whatever job he was doing.
“Yeah, it’s parked out there. Sorry, I couldn’t bring it here, I had to push it for too long...” Even he apologizes, sweetening her mouth and leaving it in the back of her tongue. This is the kind of person Lee Hoseok is...and it’s so thrilling to see that someone of his caliber either is perfect at being fake or is incredibly nice. Soon after, he gives a small chuckle, resting his arm against her precious car when he speaks out her name along with Heejung’s. “Wait, you’re her manager, right? I read about the two of you in the line-up. I didn’t think you’d own a mechanic shop.”
“Uh, I, yes—She’s—” Heejung is trying to look for words, because in her immense intelligent, publicitary head, she probably thinks Hoseok is holding a grudge against her. He may, actually.
“And that’s another guy from her team. I saw him with her that same night we raced.” Hoseok points out, now moving his legs slightly as he trails his gaze across the room. She sees his feet moving now, keeping her legs out of underneath the car, peeking like a monster under a kid’s bed. “So...that leaves us to believe the one person under the car must be your client, I suppose.”
Dang it. He’s not as stupid as one would have imagined he is, granted the prince-like title he holds in the racing industry. She clears her throat, placing the flashlight down on her abdomen before looking up at the car, as if it was the sky and she was looking for answers there. “Is there anything I can do for you, Wonho?”
“Not really,” He says, the car shaking slightly when he rests his weight over the hood of it and if he dares bend it the slightest, she’ll have to use the power of her friend also being her legal representation. Heejung is just the biggest chunk of her life in what consists of individuals. “But it’s pretty funny. You’re hiding from me now, when you were about to eat me alive in the race.”
One thing that she does not do is hide. Even under the helmets, the layers of clothing she uses for racing, even from the cameras...she never hides. There is nothing she should be embarrassed of, prideful of her work as prideful can get, so to say that is a bang to her chest, an immediate response that has her moving her legs forward, bending her knees to bring the creeper out from underneath, face finally getting a fresh gush of air to stop her heated cheeks and to dry the glint of sweat that rests upon her arms and chest. “I’m not hiding. Never have I ever consider hiding from you.”
Hoseok smiles, laughs when he straightens his back to look at her, inspecting her flustered face that doesn’t come from him or his malicious comments, all dressed in angel clothing, but from the heat. “I know, I’m just teasing.” He sweetly conquers, pointing at her while exchanging a glance with Heejung. “Can’t she fix my car? She looks like she knows what she is doing.”
She stands up then, thanks to the hand he extends for her to take, his soft touch still a contrast of how she thought he’d be. It takes her three steps to be inside her car, turning the key in the ignition and watching it come to life when a smile appears on her face. “I don’t look like I know what I am doing. I really do know what to do with cars.” She rests her forearms on the steering wheel, speaking loudly when she quirk an eyebrow at Hoseok. “Why? Haven’t fixed one in your life?”
She hears Heejung shouting her name as a scolding, but Hoseok simply kneels the slightest, looking at her from the open windows. He tilts his head to the side. “I used to. I don’t think I do anyone, I just get them fixed.”
“Just accept you want me to waste time on your car instead of spending it practicing for the race.” She tuts him, only to watch the smirk fall from his face, lips parting along the same time his eyebrows lift in surprise.
“I would never do that.” He truthfully says, interlocking his fingers in front of him, cladded in rings that she has taken a glimpse of. He doesn’t make it easy, the soft tone of his voice that reaches the deps of her ribs, moves them out of their place with each quickened breath she takes to calm herself down. For someone who protects, shelters herself from the world with an attitude of stubbornness and recklessness, he seems to have some power over her. Sensitivity exists within her soul whenever he is around, calming it down, giving it a dose of whatever his eyes give out. It is a complete different ordeal than the pumping of her heart when he challenges her. “I just want to see how you do, that’s all. No second intentions. I could even pay ahead. I don’t have cash with me right now, but I have my card...what do you want me to buy you?”
She unlocks the doors of her car, nodding along to his words. “Alright, buy me a Lamborghini Veneno.” The item is worth millions, the reason why Hoseok’s shoulders shake in the wheeze he lets out, looking at her with surprise in his expression.
“No, be serious!”
“I’m serious.” She says, leaning forward until their faces are just centimeters away. “Buy me my Lamborghini and I’ll fix your car.”
Hoseok takes his wallet out, waving it in front of her face with a gentle smile on his sweet features. He knows what he is doing, he has to, and she finds herself smiling as well when the air around them is too thick for the two of them to breathe together. The oxygen is lacking, her eyes inspecting his features, from his plush lips to the length of his dark eyelashes, the piercings that rest on his earlobes and shine against the sunlight romantically. “What about coffee and pastries? You get to drive me there and practice. I also pay you while I see what you’re all about in a real car.”
She steals a glance at Heejung, the kind of face that is telling her not to do it, because she knows exactly what her intentions are. This is the kind of people she always seek for, the ones that give her adrenaline, pump her up with the chase of finding someone, the game of connecting with another person before the fire dulls down. Heejung’s face is framed by her messy hair, shaking her head at her but she ignores it, pointing at the passenger seat with her thumb as she instructs Hoseok: “Get in the passenger seat if you want to know what a real racer looks like.”
“Why? Am I look at myself in the mirror?” Hoseok asks, not giving her time to answer as he walks in front of her car, enough for her to detail the black tee and the matching, tight pants with roaming eyes before he is seated by her side, putting his seatbelt on at the same time as her.
“Buckle up. You’ll need it.”
She notices at that moment, when she steps on the pedal with expertise and excellence, that Hoseok looks at life differently. He feels everything in a different manner, showcased by the way his hands grip to his sides, a shriek leaving his lips just in time for a smile to reach his cheeks. She takes that much in from a glance at him, rounding around his car and getting out of the street that leads to the mechanic shop, leaving a cloud of dust and smoke behind them. Her car is back to its normality, how she knows it, making her hum in delight when the radio turns up with the usual station that accompanies her late night adventures and someone as grand as Hoseok, as delightful in the racing industry, seems surprised when she goes about the streets as if she doesn’t care. She doesn’t, actually, she’ll stop when she feels like the police would catch her.
“Your foot is heavy, oh my God!” Hoseok comments, chuckles leaving his broad chest when she takes one glance over at him, slowing down when she reaches farther from the mechanic shop, more people coming into view, less known than her usual neighbors.
“I came to this life just to play. That’s all.” She answers, her voice more audible now that she has slowed down, smoothly gliding her hands against the steering wheel until her elbow is resting on the opened window, fist pressed to her cheek, looking ahead. “So, I get to pick the coffee place?”
“Whatever you want,” When she gives him a side-eye, she catches him staring, a big smile on his face when he does. “Yeah, wherever you want.”
A few streets ahead, her favorite coffee shop sells the most delicious of pastries and from the bitter taste that was left from her lunch, she’ll need something sweet. Something quite like Lee Hoseok in this eventful afternoon. “Even hell? Because man, I can really take you there—”
“You’re not a demon.” He answers, leaning back on his seat when he breaks his gaze away from her. “You’re more angelic than you think you are.”
“Oh yes, of course, something about almost making you fall in front of everyone in a race and saying more curse words in a sentence than any other person could just speaks angelic.” She sarcastically prompts, straightening her back and chuckling. “I’m not even a demon. I could be Satan herself.”
“Satan is a man.”
“Who told you that?” She asks, stopping the car right in front of the coffee shop before smiling. “I’m very much a woman.”
Hoseok is amused, she sees it in the way he gets out of the car as quickly as she does, following after her with laughter bubbling from his chest. “What is it with you and this image you have going on? Are you really this reckless or are you doing it to be interesting?”
“I don’t know, Wonho, Hoseok...Formula One loser, is it interesting to you?” She asks, standing right in front of the door of her favorite coffee place to see that it is closed. A pout wants to overtake her lips, though she simply points at the sign that reads they are closed for today thanks to technical difficulties.
“Very.” He says, his shoulder pressing to hers when he looks around the street, hands hidden in his pockets before he points with his chin towards a bakery. “That looks like a good place for pastries. I owe you the coffee, but hey, at least I got you to go out to a place with me without having you threaten me.”
She smiles, walking right by his side towards the bakery, one that is just next to another one, the separation in between them clear when the colors are completely different, one more exquisite and expensive looking, the other more humbled and beige-colored. “If you’re wondering, though, it’s really not an act. I’m this kind of person every day and every night.”
Hoseok makes the decision to open the door to the beige-colored bakery, earning a pointed look from the delivery man on the black bakery, who immediately stands up when he hears the sound of laughter coming from one of the workers in the bakery. She hears a name, Kihyun, but she doesn’t pay much attention to their conversation as she gets further inside the place.
“...Also, if you really wanted to go out with me, you could’ve just asked.” She answers, shrugging her shoulders when Hoseok asks:
“Would you have said no?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you figure it out?”
In that small bakery, eating bites of the sweetest of meals, she learns that Hoseok’s image is somewhat fabricated, made to be the cocky and powerful racer that everyone admires. Beneath that, there is a softer soul, someone whose love for racing goes deeper than any magazine could ever showcase. She wasn’t wrong when she said they were polar opposites.
🚗
Her sponsor is quite the brand.
...It’s good for her, at least, somewhat productive.
Energy buzzes through her; it comes in sharp movements of her legs, in the jumping of her feet, in the way she goes from one corner to the other of the booth in which her team stays in. Leo, Heejung and a few other of her friends. The reason as to why she is so electrified, as if thunder had gone through her body, penetrating on every cell, is perpetually written on her uniform, the only sponsor she has. An energy drink company, good enough to have her pupils dilated as she waits for the race to start, a few pictures sent her way and in most pictures, anyone can probably notice the sweat that pools on her forehead and the frenzied look on her face.
Nervousness is not a good look. It doesn’t belong to her, either, she is not the type to get extremely nervous—but the race is finally upon her, the taste of the Formula One title lingering on the back of her tongue, only heightening her ambition when she sees the amount of racers there. In her little rendezvous of hatred with Hoseok, she had completely forgotten that there are other racers there; equally as hardworking, as good, as rich or ambitious as she wants to be. This led to drinking ehr first energy drink early in the morning, almost like breakfast, downing it in one go and now, at this hour of the afternoon, she has already had too many energy drink to even count.
She grips Heejung’s forearm, resting one foot on the floor at a time in her small jumping-dance, ridiculous to anyone who would be looking at her. She feels like she is back to when she was a child and couldn’t go to the bathroom herself. “Jung, I really need to pee. Like, so bad.”
Heejung’s face grows stoic, almost too serious, tugging at her sleeve to get her attention once again. This time, her manager and best friend turns to look at her with a sigh. “Then, just go to the bathroom!”
“But what if the race starts soon?” She worries, the whine in her tone something that she is not accustomed to. The acoustics of the place bring her on the edge, apparently, listening to too many voices, music that is too loud, making her feel out of place, compared to how excited she is most of the time—ready to take over the world. “Heejung!”
“You should have thought about that when you were drinking another can of energy drinks—” She replies before patting the racer’s shoulder. “Just go, it won’t take you more than two minutes and you still have time. Go.”
“Are you sure?”
“...You can always pee your pants inside your car, either way. Don’t go, it’s fine with me.” Heejung sarcastically adds, watching as she pats her best friend’s shoulder quickly to get some of the tension off her body, adrenaline rushing too quickly through her veins.
“Don’t be an asshole. I’m going to pee. Wait for me here, okay? Scream my name if the race starts.”
“Or I could just call you.”
“Great idea, that too!”
Unusual must not be the adjective she was looking for when she heard a knock on the door of the bathroom, open for anyone to enter. By that time, she is washing her hands, splashing some of the leftover water on her face and patting her cheeks quickly, albeit a bit harshly, to get any kind of anxiousness out of her system. The person outside knocks the door again, something that has her screaming out a ‘it’s open!’ into the thin air. No one listens, or they don’t understand her, making her huff as she pats her hands on the backside of her uniform, walking towards the door and opening it with her elbows—hygiene first, she tells herself—but once she is about to come face to face with the annoying woman at the door, she realizes it is not a woman at all.
You see, this is very much a man.
Someone she knows, not like the back of her hand, but at moments like these she wishes she did.
His image is pristine. He’s the sweet man of the Formula One; the person who makes everyone feel special, after all, with some titles under his name and some questionable friends, but beyond anything, people consider him sacred. A sanctified sin, she’d call him, much more in the way he looks currently. His dark hair falls upon his forehead, thin eyebrows covered and his eyes darker than ever. There seems to be a hint of makeup on his skin, his lips are rosier than ever, calling out for dignification the moment he calls out her name with a smile on his face.
Not to talk about the way her eyes dart towards his body, elegance as is with the way his uniform has a the zipper a bit low, giving a glimpse his chest, his workout routine noticeable in everything about him. The star of the night, however, is the grin he gives her when he dumbly adds: “I’m so happy you’re here.”
“Well, I’m a contestant. Of course I’m here.” She points out, catching the way his cheeks light up under the bright lights of the place they are in. “Are your nerves getting the best of you? Because I could grab one of the lollipops inside the girl’s bathroom and give it to you.” She looks up and down at him, biting down her bottom lip after shrugging her shoulders. “There’s no shame if that’s why you were knocking.”
Hoseok, now in his Wonho persona, covers his embarrassment with a chuckle. “I’m not nervous.”
“I am.” She confesses. “...But either way, that must be the twenty energy drinks I just had.” She teases, laughing at her own joke before sighing, resting her hands inside the pockets of her uniform. “Can I help you out with anything?”
He crosses his arms over his chest and she invites herself not to look down. It’d be weak of her to show that she is affected by him, much more when they are minutes away from knowing who the winner of this little internal fight they’ve had is. “Actually, I was looking for you because I may have gotten you an interview with the biggest racing magazine in the industry.”
“Huh?” She says, pointing in between them before scoffing. “You—Me? Wait? Interview? No one wants to interview me.”
Protection is the best policy. The thought of not being wanted in a world that she has tried her hardest to be part of is heartbreaking; sometimes, she finds herself wondering if she’ll ever make it. Wanting to is one thing, actually doing it is another. In this case, Hoseok leans against the nearest wall, looking at her with a faint grin on his face. “At first, they only wanted me there but I said I would not give them an interview if they didn’t give you a chance.”
She slaps her hands against her thighs, falling thanks to gravity. This is something new—Hoseok is just the type of man to adore attention, or so she had thought. He couldn’t possibly do something like this...right? “No way you did or said that. There’s no way.”
“But I did.” Hoseok finishes, his face softening when he lets out a sigh. “Even if I come up last tonight, I’ll still get interviews and sponsorships. Your career is still starting, I don’t want you feeling discouraged just because of the lack of attention from the public.”
She raises her eyebrows at that, battling the stone in her soul, finding out if she can still keep up that confident persona of hers when in reality, Hoseok has simply given a one-in-a-time opportunity. Heejung would be thrilled, until she heard that it was from Hoseok. Something about him was rather gravitational, both good and bad, like she wanted to be closer but she knew it was impossible for them to ever become one. Why? Just a sixth sense.
“Mhm, I see.” She hums, getting closer to him and looking up at his eyes, which are now glistening when the air in between them is shared. Hoseok may be adrenaline at its finest, the feeling of sneaking in at night behind her family and feeling alive again. He reminds her of the tests in which she cheated in and the thrill of getting caught made her feel powerful. Fearless, some called her, obsessed with feeling alive to the point she’d do anything to have her heart palpitating more than it should. If she can get that from Hoseok, why not use it to her favor? “Thank you.” Though, she speaks from the heart, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and breathing in the scent of him.
Hoseok’s fingers delve into her waist, until they land on the curve of her spine. Even her bones are fidgety, caused by the energy on her system or the thankfulness for him. For a nice soul to exist in such a place. “A-Ah, you’re welcome.” He composes himself quickly. As if the poer of her is not enough to trance him. His fingers trail up her back when she pulls away, grasping the edges of her hair before they are off her ambience. “You better get going. I sent them to your booth and I think they must be waiting for you. The race starts in twenty minutes.”
“Okay, noted.” She replies, giving a few steps forward before turning around, walking backwards whilst speaking to him. “You know, at this rate, you’re really going to end up getting in my good list, Wonho.”
“Can’t end up where I already am.” He sneakily adds, clever beyond what anyone would have imagined before he waves his hand in the air. “See you after the race.”
“Let’s see who is winner by then.”
The interview is, apparently, what she needed to feel better. A camera pointed to her face, a microphone in front of her lips and questions that take her into consideration as a possible winner for the race, just like anyone else. This is a dream beyond fame, of strength instead, of being able to live a fun life without the reigns of responsibility. Sometimes, she wonders if she’ll have to grow out of this mindset—the fear of getting older is not as strong as losing her eternal youth, the essence of her. This is what she has always dreamed of; she confirms.
It’s more of a reality when Leo and Heejung are no longer in sight, when her thighs are pressed to the smaller car in which she is in, helmet secured in place, hands holding onto the steering wheel. She wishes she could have a mirror at that moment, because Hoseok is parked not too far away, testing his engine, letting it roar. She looks over her shoulder, seeing a slit of his eyes behind the helmet, though by the way they crinkle he is smiling.
She has never quite been this affected by anyone, like she needs to win in order to gain some attention. From the public. From the magazines, the TV shows, the man that everyone adores.
It’s no longer about dethroning him. It’s a state of graceful competition, igniting a fire of attraction, of wanting to push his buttons to get a reaction.
When the race stars, she realizes this is all she has known. When she was a teenager and she would take her friend’s car out for a ride, not caring that the wind blew too hard on her hair or that she couldn’t see properly with the speed she was going in. When she fell in love too quickly, too hard, like she needs to feel alive for once, feel like she has the reigns of starting a fire and dulling it at the same time. Stepping on the engine is necessary, it’s the only way she prove that she is more than just a forgettable woman in the background. The stakes are clear—money, wealth, fame, all of those combine into something stronger. Shades of greed, it’s red—it has never belonged to passion, either way—, everything she sees is suddenly blurring into wanting more and more and more.
It’s dangerous to never get enough or have enough. She breathes more calmly the more she races, when she sees cars stepping behind her, when everything is about sensing where she is located. For a moment, she can’t help but smile. Those who criticized her would never realize that this, on itself, is a form of art. Racing includes the music of life—an engine, the cheering of the crowd; that makes her a performer. Racing also partakes in speed, precise enough to save her own life, the glide of her hands on the steering wheel leaving an imprint on the concrete. That makes her an artist.
At some point, it’s not about winning anymore. It’s about getting noticed in this unstoppable moment of life, so when she sees the endline, she blurs everyone that is around her. She has raced for the world to see, for TV programs to take her into consideration, for the first time she gets to be clapped at instead of called out for her irresponsibility. Her feet steps harder on the pedal, braving it all when she reaches the endline. Once her car comes to a halt, smoke trailing behind it, she gets out, taking off her helmet and inspecting everyone to be over Hoseok.
The Lee Hoseok, Formula One sweetheart, the man whose eyes are now on her when people rush towards her instead.
“And the Formula One welcomes a new winner…!” Someone announces in the background, in a microphone to be exact and when she feels herself being lifted into the air by her team, she parts her lips and lets out a squeal, hands pressing into her chest to revive herself.
It strangely feels like being born again, like she spoke into existence that she’d be someone of importance. It was either this or social death. The fight was worth going through, because for the first time in her life: she had an actual title.
Formula One winner. Not a disgrace of society that wants to destroy everything at her reach.
Heejung is the one to coach her through it; from the interviews to the actual presentation to the press. Most of the time, she clings into Heejung’s hand, trying not to speak atrocities and ruin her moment, but Hoseok is not too far away. Either way, winning or not, Hoseok had done excellently and money was still going to his bank account, leaving most people bitter at his loss—or almost winning, like some would call it. When questions are thrown his way, she turns to look at him, seated in the same stage as her, talking effortlessly and elegantly. He looks unbothered, throwing a few glances her way, parting his legs until his thighs are in contact with hers.
Winning recognition and money on the long run is one thing. There are things she wants in this life that are not worth money.
Hoseok, for example, is one of those desired adrenaline rushes she gets.
When the interview is over and she is about to go over to the parking lot to leave for a celebration with her team, she feels someone tugging at her arm, soon after her neck is caged under someone’s arm, strong, comfortable, quite cushion-y. The touch is foreign, making her look up to see Hoseok’s face, who chuckles at her reaction when he lets her go.
“Great game,” He starts. “Learn this date like the palm of your hand. You’ll want to remember the day you became a star.”
She laughs at that, nodding her head at his words. “First day of actually feeling like what I do is worth something.”
Hoseok’s eyes soften at that, his face turning to the side when flashes are felt around them. Someone must be taking pictures of the best two racers of the night. “You’ll be big, I can feel it. That arrogance you claim to have is only towards me, so I am guessing you’re just trying to tease me.” He says, observational of how she had been with everyone else.
“...You’re my biggest rival here, after all.”
“You mean to say: was?”
“You still are. I’ll see you next season”
He hums. “Why not see each other sooner?” The question is spoken into the air, his dark eyes looking into hers. Is brown the shade of wrong or right? Is a man with a smile like that, like he’ll take her breath away with a simple swoop of his lips against hers, troublesome or not? She can’t bring herself to care, much less when she nears him, placing a hand over his arm and dragging it down until it cages his in a faint hold, letting go as she speaks.
“What are you prompting?” She questions, watching the tips of Hoseok’s ears turning red.
“A race...but with dinner before that, and possibly no race at all.” He makes himself crack up, earning a laugh from her own as she nods her head.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re just scared I’ll win again.”
“I’ve won against you once already.” He prompts, something that has her shrugging.
“Guess we’ll have to figure out with another race...with dinner before that, though.” She says, not noticing that Hoseok’s team is nearby, howling at the words in between them, exchanged playfully.
“Wonho has got a crush!”
“Get it, Hoseok!”
Hoseok extends his hand, almost business-like. “So, a race...not a date?”
She grasps his hand, shaking it with a smile on her face. “A race, not a date.” She conquers, placing her hands behind her back and moving backwards, once again. Why can’t she just turn her back to him. “You already have my number. Give me the details, okay?”
...Because this is definitely a race, not a date.
🚗
“I’ll be leaving early today, okay?”
Heejung, still face-deep in the hood of a car, questions the sound of her voice. “Huh? Why’s that? You always stay at night. It’s not like you like going home early, either way.”
Reaching for the zipper of her overalls, she lets the fabric pool at her feet as it slides down her body, showcasing a much more casual, less mechanic fit. A blouse, some jeans, nothing necessarily fancy. “Who said I’m going home?” She asks Heejung, more like tutting her, something that has the older woman sighing.
“Where are you going?” Heejung asks, pushing her bleached hair away from her shoulders before smacking her hand against the hood of that car. That dent must be driving her crazy.
“Out on a date.”
Deafening silence, that’s to be expected. Heejung is not a dictator in their friendship, but her years of living has led her to be much like a mother-figure. When she plays with the edge of her hair, almost like a kid would, she realizes that Heejung is just doing that—taking care of her. The woman in question turns around, letting out an exasperated sigh when she actually studies her expression, knowing everything about her with a simple stare.
The thing is: she is not complicated. A risk-taker? Absolutely, a hundred percent, but not difficult to understand. She doesn’t have a routine, but she’s predictable. She’ll do what makes her feel the best that day; she’ll drive herself around, perhaps look for new people to meet, study some more of the science of cars to get herself as much information as possible. Heejung knows this, knows that she seeks for thrill in fear of ever becoming forgettable enough to just find her life to be the same. Each and every single day.
It’s strange, how she battles fear with more fear by living off adrenaline.
“Oh no, baby, I know that look. You’re going out on a date with Wonho, aren’t you?”
“It’s not a matter of who I go out on a date with, Heejung. You’ve said it yourself, I need to get away from always seeking danger and take part of more normal life experiences—”
Heejung sighs at that, fixing her hair as she rests her weight against the dented hood. “No, I know you. You’re doing this, unconsciously, thinking about how hot it would be with your competition in the industry. About how everything is fun and explosive and passionate. You want to have fun, you don’t want to date.” Those words sting at the back of her head, like a punch that has been delivered and it is even worse that it comes from her everything. Heejung is such a necessary part of her life that had she been gone, she wouldn’t know where to stand.
With bitterness settling on her tongue, she speaks out. “What is love about, then? Is it about being boring? Sitting around and not finding anything interesting on the other person other than just finding someone to be there with you? There should be emotion in everything we do.” And maybe her passion is the reason of her love life. She can’t handle routines, the boringness of someone that stops caring, stops loving as hard. The start should not be better than the end, ever.
“...That’s the thing, you have fun in obsessive ways. Not now, at least, but I fear for your safety.” Heejung admits, crossing her arms over her chest to keep her poise. “I’m older than you—”
“That doesn’t give you the right to treat me like a child. I may be messy sometimes, but I know what I’m doing.” This is the part of her that always brings her to be more reckless. People treat her as if enjoying life is her way of being irresponsible, as if she could never make a serious decision, guided by stronger beings than her. She hasn’t had it easy and she has been able to get through it, what is there to prove after that?
“Listen, you’re in your rise to fame now. People are noticing you for your racing,” Heejung, always poised, says in his normal voice. She never curses, never does anything to make it seem as if she is not perfect in every way. That is what has always calmed her down, but she still did not treat Heejung differently if she made a mistake. That is what she is looking for...and sadly, she’d never get. “And you have the celebrity personality. I fear that once you have enough money, you’re going to get addicted to feeling. Celebrities are problematic because they need attention; they need to smoke more than anyone, drink more than anyone, have more sex than any normal human being—”
“You know me, I wouldn’t do that.”
“But I still feel like you shouldn’t go out on a date with Hoseok.” She reasons, though her voice lifts at that. “You’re two fires trying to get together, that just creates a bigger fire and once you dull, there is no way you’re staying. I don’t want you to have your heart broken, because I know you when you get too over excited.” Heejung gets closer to her, blinking rapidly at her friend. “I just know you’ll end up disappointed.”
She looks over to the side, trying not to stare forward. Heejung would want to reason with her and this is just her reality—she wants to go out on a date with Hoseok. Wanted, she desires to feel like; to have someone that understands her. Not a man that asks her to slow down, not a man that shakes her head at her give-it-all-or-lose-it-all personality. Hoseok looked at her, heard her speak with such faux confidence in order to push herself out there, with competition lingering in her tongue, and he still felt attracted to her. He didn’t want to dull her, if anything, he wanted to brighten her up.
“Heejung, I just want to fucking live my life.” Her voice has softened, looking into her friend’s eyes as she reaches forward to push at her arm, almost hesitantly, trying to lighten up the mood. “When I’m older, I want to say I lived. I’m not saying Hoseok is a forever, what I’m saying is that he is who I want right now. For sex or for love, I have to judge that for my own.”
“I just want you to settle down for once.” Heejung whispers. “You’ll end up hurt.”
“You can scold me if that happens,” She says, feeling her phone vibrating inside her pocket and getting it out to see a text from Hoseok. He’s outside, waiting for her. “But for now, Jung, I’m an adult. I don’t need the parenting.”
The glide of her car keys being tossed towards Heejung’s extended hands has the older woman sighing, nodding her head along to her words in a way to showcase her support. More like hidden disappointment, the one that shows she’ll be waiting there whatever happens. “Text me when it’s over, alright?”
Once outside, the dark night engulfs her when it matches the sight of Hoseok’s car, perfectly parked in front of her workplace. It’s a Lamborghini, not to be expected from him to have something cheap or slow, and she doesn’t blame him for it. Her hands trail over the car, smiling at the beaming surface before opening the door. Hoseok lifts his gaze from his phone, then, widening his eyes at the sight of her before he gives one of those infamous smile.
How does Heejung expect her ignore Lee Hoseok? Not the angel of races, but the person himself. She wants to get to know the reason as to why someone like her could bring such brightness out of him. An asshole, that she is; not a heartbreaker per say, just viewing life differently, to test it and enjoy it. Maybe, Heejung is right; people like them are meant to create bigger fires to be turned to dust by someone else, but for now, Hoseok is the person that makes her feel like there is not a burning feeling with fire.
It’s warm. People forget that fire was once looked for thanks to the lack of warmth.
“Hi,” She says, putting the seat belt over her body and studying him. Not his body, but the way he stares at her with a smile on his face, blinking once before letting out a soft sigh.
“You’re gorgeous tonight.” He says before stopping himself, blowing out a raspberry out of frustration. “Not tonight only, though, you are always extremely pretty and funny—”
“I’ll take that as a compliment because I damn right do not look quite as good as you look. Much less with my work clothes.” She compliments, pressing one hand to Hoseok’s shoulder. “So, where are you taking me?”
“...We said dinner.” He continues, all radiance when he starts the car. “For tonight, we’re not two racers in a car but we’re normal people. I’ll drive safely, take you out to dinner and try not to choke on my food from how absolutely beautiful you are.”
“Hoseok, that’s corny, come on.” She pushes, earning laughter from his part.
“Expect more of that through the night.”
“Lucky me,” She rolls her eyes, though a smile plants itself on her face. The growth of being around him, supposedly. “I’ll have a comedy sketch done with the amount of corny lines.”
“I’m ready for it.”
It’s not that the date is perfect, that the place is as inherently expensive as she expected it to be with Lee Hoseok, as rich as he is, it’s the fact that it isn’t. The wine isn’t tastier than any other one that she has, the music isn’t fancier or more on the classic side, the people aren’t socialites with tight dress and huge bank accounts. It’s not the food that is served in fresh plates with smoke coming out of them to indicate how hot they are and it’s not the taste, though magnificent, of the meal she is having along with Hoseok. It’s the man that makes it so memorable, the conversation that never stops, the way she has her head thrown back with laughter the more he tries to joke around. Something connects, like dots in space, like the moles on his face.
Hoseok talks about his tastes; what music he likes, how he listens to it, how he’ll never get used to travelling but how much he loves it. How he’d prefer a bathrobe over any kind of pajamas and how working out, for him, is more than just looking good but feeling good. This makes her feel at ease—someone else enjoys life for what it is, freedom. Someone else can laugh freely with her, can make her feel like she is not judged, and that person is no other than Lee Hoseok.
Flirting is a necessity with him, in the way she looks at him and how sometimes she catches herself sighing out loud at the mere sound of his voice, not for its tone but for what he says. He is not the typical celebrity, much less is he obsessed with being first place. He has surprised her quite thoroughly. Her hand sometimes dances along to his skin when he feeds her something, or when he holds it over the table and these are the particular things that have her heart racing.
Sometime when his fries are long gone, Hoseok licks his grease-coated lips and sighs. “Why did you decide to become a racer? Like, where did it all start?”
She toys with her fries as she dips them on tomato sauce, puckering up her lips and letting out a short chuckle. “It’s funny because it happened when I was around sixteen. My friend had a car, her grandma’s old car, and she was wanted to go out on a date but she didn’t know shit about driving...so I took her there, I learned then and there.” She smiles at the imagery, the young days of enjoying trying something new and perhaps sucking at it, but having fun along the way. “...But then I hung around other people, and more problematic people at that and that’s when I started to race. They used me to test cars and whatnot, because I was just the youngest of the group and wasn’t as important.” Hoseok raises his eyebrows at that, clearly hurt by the way she spoke.
“They should have never done that.”
“I didn’t know better, I just wanted to have fun. At the time, I guess I trusted them enough to know I wouldn’t die...but who knows? I could’ve.” She finishes, finally plopping the fry inside her mouth before speaking with her mouth full. “What about you?”
“I learned how to drive when I was thirteen,” He says, biting down on his bottom lip when he recalls the memory. “Well, kind of, I asked my mom to let me drive her to grocery store and after so much begging, she let me...but, I didn’t do it again until I got older and she wanted me to drive her everywhere. I became a chauffeur, then tried out for legal racing matches because I...needed the money.” Well, in reality she had always expected Hoseok to be more like her. She did it because she wanted to, but with the way his voice lowers, grows tinier in comparison, maybe that wasn’t the case. “I got denied from college, I couldn’t afford going and my job was a mess since I was a waiter so...I raced, got my ass kicked a hundred times, tried again. After some years, I finally made enough money to never worry about going back to that state again.”
Her hand reaches forward, the smile now off her face when she says: “You’ve been an inspiration for many, Hoseok.”
“Wonho has.”
“You’re Wonho, though.” She tells him, reassuringly, looking over at him before sighing through her nose. “Kids and teenagers alike think you are so cool. They see you and they see confidence and racers fear you, they know you’re talented and great with publicity—I feared you, in some way.” Though, by the way he looks at her, the lights of the restaurant casting over his face, she can sense his mood being lifted up.
“You weren’t scared of me,” He says. “You crushed me from the day we met.”
“I like to assert dominance, yes.” She tilts her head to the side, pondering the options of the first time they met. “But it’s because you were so great at everything, I was triggered. Great at everything and the greatest looking man I’ve seen in a while. I was offended.”
Hoseok chuckles at that, reaching forward until he is wiping some of the tomato sauce on her lip with a napkin. “I was terrified. I thought my working out routine was good until you almost made me fall with a handshake.”
“Oh come on, I wasn’t that rough.”
“You were.”
Looking up, albeit a bit innocently or feigning to be, she speaks in a softer tone. “Sorry. I may have been a bit tough, but you liked me like that.”
“I definitely did.” Hoseok says, lifting his glass of wine up in the air. “For the woman I knew was going to win against me from the moment I met her.”
“Pfft,” She scoffs, lifting her glass as well and clinking it against his. “You’re saying that just because.”
“...Let me just compliment you.”
“I’d—Okay, yes, you knew I was going to win.”
With the chemistry building inside of them, the faint drinks leaving her with a buzzing feeling by the time she is back in his car and being driven home, she thinks that at the least of possibilities, he is going to kiss all the dizziness away, tipsy feelings gone when his rosy lips rest upon hers and part at the same time, in a rhythm, like he wants to take her breath away and take her out again. One of his hands rest on the steering wheel, the other playing with the edge of her fingers, like he is speaking and doing it without thought, and she can’t bring herself to say anything.
Not when he is complimenting the date, talking about how much he enjoyed it—enjoyed her. Coming closer is the answer, finally engulfing his palm in her warmth when she leans forward to whisper her goodbyes and instead of receiving a kiss as a gift, all she gets is the drunken truth of a whispered goodbye and a smile. He doesn’t try anything more than a pat on the head and that is enough to have her squinting.
Getting out of the car, she even turns around in case he is rushing behind her to give her a kiss but then, she realizes he is waiting for her to get inside.
...He is being respectful, though his obvious attraction is clear even to her, he is being nice.
He’s waiting, for her, for a kiss, for the perfect time to leave. He’s patient, he’s the slow-burn everyone talks about.
She looks ahead once again, letting some oxygen in before releasing it. Strangely enough, all frustration is washed from her body to be replaced with acceptance. Time will bloom what needs to grow at its own time.
🚗
Contrary to what one would believe coming from her, subsidiary bad girl in what the general term means, she enjoys the tranquil night she gets to spend with Hoseok a few weeks later. Was it a week? Because it felt like a longer time had passed by. In the comfort of their hushed conversations, seated on her couch as they watched those movies that he claims are too good to dismiss—action-based, he really likes those, but with a lingering meaning of loyalty and friendship in the back of it all, she finds enjoyment.
Hoseok, even when he cooked for her with all the might in the world, wanting nothing more than for her to try his instant noodles and to watch how fast he is at chopping, is the color red. He’s fast, passionate, enough to take her breath away when she leans on the counter and watches him work, hears him speak about this movie that he wants to watch with her—Kingsman, he claims she’d like it and she is not one to sit down and watch movies when she could be out and about doing something, but for him, she’d do it.
Because Hoseok can bring feelings even in the most mundane of actions. He can speak with such interest that it clings to her soul, leads her closer and closer until she wishes he could finally act upon their attraction, their devilish need to just kiss each other until they burned. It couldn’t be that he is not interested, she guesses, but the green body of insecurity bites at the back of her brain. She is used to men that take the first step on the very first moment, not to the beauty of him as he takes the time to feed her, to have her tasting what he is cooking beforehand so it is just the right amount of spice for her.
Liking him is all about going forward, not caring that there are no brakes to step on. She wants fast, she wants breathtaking, she wants Lee Hoseok to make her feel like life is slow when in reality she is just an explosion waiting to be ignited.
“I’m not boring you with movies, am I?” He asks after they ate, barely getting through half the movie he was talking about before they had decided to clean up. A lot of mess was caused thanks to the popcorn, the snacks and the food. His elbow rests against the counter, red shirt cladding to his body, matching the rosiness of his pout.
“No,” She confesses, laughing as she splashes water over the plate she is washing. It’s so filled with soy sauce and spices that she is not sure how she’ll get it off. “Strangely enough, I have enjoyed something that I never do. I rarely sit down and use my TV, but with you...it’s fun.”
“I’m glad.” Hoseok says, making her turn to look at him when she feels his gaze inspecting her facial features. She is not exactly the most gorgeous of people tonight, for Hoseok had crashed too suddenly, leaving her more casual than elegant or ready to seduce him. However, his brown eyes concentrate on the color of her eyes, on the depth of her nose, the curve of it, the shine on the bridge, the curve of her lips and even to her jaw before looking back up once again. “If you’re wondering, I’m having an excellent time.”
“...Huh.” She whispers, licking her lips and swallowing thickly when she feels the dangerous side of Hoseok upon her, the one that Heejung advices her to get away from. The trapping point of him that has her in his arms in no time, could she do such thing without feeling a bit insecure, the moment in which she wonders if Hoseok is as innocent as he makes himself to be or he simply wants to prolong the moment, increase the tension, make her nals cling to her skin in hopes of breathing properly. No one has ever had this power over her. “Well, that’s good news...”
Hoseok gets closer to her, like a repetition of events, lips parting and eyes falling a bit, his eyelids fluttering when he leans forward and has her thinking that a kiss will land upon her lips, finally changing their red and beige to the whole rainbow. Instead, the wet kiss is placed upon her chin, making her open her eyes and frown when she realizes that Hoseok had not intended to give her a kiss—
Instead, he childishly kissed her chin.
Is this a new type of affection she has not known about?
Hoseok’s cheeks flush at that, clearing his throat when he pulls away and laughs about something he is thinking before straightening his back. “I’ll—Uh, I’ll serve us some soda while you finish there.”
She inspects his back as he moves towards her refrigerator, releasing a sigh when she says: “You’re so strange, Lee Hoseok.”
“Did you say something?”
“Nothing.”
Her nerves are in endless synapse when she is seated by his side again, legs sprawled over his lap, his hands caressing her calves and making sure she feels comfortable. The air conditioner is suddenly not enough to calm down the heat that exists around her, in tneed of being closer and closer, catching a few glimpses of the expression of Hoseok’s face, barely illuminated by the television device. He’s calm, she can tell, but he’s deep in his thoughts, much like herself, only making comments ever so briefly, something about the silence being absolutely shattering.
The movement of her legs must have caught his attention, turning to his side when he notices her trying to get out of the fluffy blanket that covered her body. “I’m suffocating here.” She adds in a funny tone, perhaps to break through the tension, and it seems to do the trick. Hoseok takes the edge of the blanket in between his fingers, trying to pull at it and get it off her body.
“Sorry, I think I wrapped you up too tightly.” Hoseok says, reminiscent of earlier that night when he had insisted on wrapping her up nicely, almost tucking her by his side. The touch of his hands around her shoulders has her breathing out a laugh.
“You wanted to turn me into a burrito.”
“I like those.” He comments, raising his eyebrows teasingly before she hits his chest. At that moment, time stops and the movie talks in the background, some action scene that would have caught his attention had his body not been immensely close to hers, her hand caressing just above his heart, ready to cage it in a tight grip and pull it away. His eyes do that thing that he is used to, studying from up close, ready to flirt but not voicing it out.
“Don’t do that,” She whispers, though her voice gives away that she is sarcastically adding the comment. “Looking at me like that...do you like what you see that much?” She tries to play, though her voice is tiny when Hoseok learns forward.
“Wasn’t it obvious?” He asks in between a laugh. “I’ve been flirting with you since the moment I met you.”
“I noticed.”
“Then...”
Hoseok gets even closer, burning with the need to kiss her when she closes her eyes tightly. The knotted thread of the story seems to be here, the moment in which she finally gets what she wanted from the beginning—to feel the romance in him. Nonetheless, the air is electrifying, too much to bear when the tip of his fingers caress over her shoulder, wraps around her ribcage and tries to place a kiss on her lips, only for them to turn mistakenly and bump noses.
“Ow!” She hisses, opening her eyes and getting to see Hoseok holding his nose, rolling his eyes at the destiny of it all.
“For fuck’s sake—”
The sentence is cut short when she takes him by the back of his neck, knowing that when things weren’t done correctly, she has to take matters in her own hands. The right answer is to press her lips to his, so quickly that she hears his breath halter, only letting go a few seconds later when he relaxes that hand on her ribcage, the other creating patterns on her nape. Hoseok tastes sweet, beyond the food they had, he tastes like victory, like another dream that she has made true. The way he kisses her, fast-paced and yet so precise, shows experience, thoughtful, a natural in movement when his lips part and he takes no time to deepen the kiss, to reach her heart, to grasp her soul. For the first time, she realizes that much like herself, Hoseok can have the upperhand of his decisions, as well.
Her legs, half on the couch and half on his lap, end up resting around his waist, trying to bring him closer to her and taste more of him. His breath ghosts over her lips, making her breathe harshly to catch her energy back. Demonic, he seems like, in the way he simply can take everything away from her and then give it back with a smile.
“Sorry for all the failed attempts.” Hoseok apologizes, having her laughing when she leans back on the couch, bringing him down with her and trailing her hands down his shoulders, grasping the muscles at his arms, wanting to be caged in the twisted world of falling for him. Soon after, she seeks for his heart, his chest, expands her hands and looks up at him through her eyelashes.
“It took you long enough to land a kiss.”
“Huh, it must’ve been life telling you that anyone would love to kiss me.”
“I never doubted that,” She replies, letting out a sigh when she traces his collarbones with her fingertips. “But, for now, I’m the only one kissing you.”
“Then, do it.” He says, biting down on his lip. “You never hesitate, why now?”
Falling for him is a challenge, not because it is difficult but because he invites her in with playful banter in between, like they want to see who will be able to fall in too deep the fastest. It’s fun, much more when his lips reconnect with hers. Not only fire, like Heejung claims for them to be, but water, air, earth and so much more. It’s second-nature to kiss him, it’s all she wants to do for that night.
🚗
“...So, basically, you have to twist this piece here. Not too harshly, though, you can break it.”
Hoseok chuckles at her words. “Tell that to the muscly man? How original.”
“I’m just instructing you. You were the one that told me you wanted me to teach you how to repair cars.”
“It was an excuse to get your attention.”
“How original.”
To have Hoseok there, in the place in which she feels the most like herself, is just another reminder of how close it feels to have him in her heart. Fearful, strangely enough she is not, but she clings to this moment like she is afraid she’ll lose it. Hoseok has earned such a spot in her tongue that she can’t start a sentence without thinking of him, she can’t wake up without the need to feel his lips, even like an addiction, far more like appreciation. Her phone is never dull anymore, much less is she lonely when Heejung, Leo and the rest of the workers are gone to their houses and she stays behind.
She had never realized how unaccompanied she felt, why she always seeked for more and more adventures to have, in order to gain attention or perhaps, keep someone in there taking care of her. Not that she needs it, she just wants to be able to have someone by her side. Heejung is her friend, but Hoseok willingly stays with her—he talks about her existence like it is beauty sent by the heavens itself, as if there will never be a woman as brave, as valient, as intelligent...when she has always been the exact opposite for someone else. He says it so truthfully, looks at her with such sensitivity, that one would think he feels the same again.
Someone once told her to wait for her twenties, the golden age of youth. The moment in which nothing matters other than feeling alive, and you can do it with people judging you...but it will never matter enough. She feels as though no one had truly looked at her and thought she’d be more than just a die-hard; but Hoseok does. In that smile that he always has plastered, in the feeling of his arm around her waist, in the way he listens and listens and never judges...that is when she realizes she may be falling for him.
Part of her thinks that her golden age must consist of medals, awards, gold, money—it should never have to deal with love, but it’s difficult when Hoseok dizzies her, moves fast enough in his own methodical way that she can only stare in adoration as he takes her spot in front of the car and does exactly as she had instructed. Plenty of times had she liked someone, in a moment or for longer, never had she felt so strongly, so desperately. It’s no wonder she ends up wrapping her arms around his waist, hips pressed to his snugly, lips searching for the curve of his neck before planting a kiss there.
Hoseok doesn’t budge, still doing as he was told, when he finally talks again: “Uh...love, I have a question.” That nickname, so incredibly cheesy for her in the past, is now the only way she can ever imagine being called by him, a few weeks after their first kiss.
Trailing her hands over his abdomen, soothingly and teasingly, she hums. “I may have an answer. Unless it’s educational stuff, I don’t have an answer for most of those.”
Joy fills him with his laughter, captivating when he shakes his head. “I was wondering if you imagined yourself repairing cars as a job for the entirety of your life. Is this what you want to do now that you’re a racer? Like, a legit one?”
There is no judgement in his tone, but what he says has her thinking. Repairing cars has always been a passion of hers and the conclusive feeling of getting it done is exhilarating. That doesn’t mean...she would have to get a paycheck out of it forever. “...Well, most things don’t last forever either way.” She wants to say ‘nothing lasts forever’ but why is it so difficult to voice it out now? “As long as I am able to help my team with money, I would leave. If not, I’d stay.”
“You’re so caring.” Hoseok says, pulling away from the car and closing the hood with a loud thud. She continues to cling to his waist, hands sprawled over his skin, when he tumbles over to the backseat of the car. “I don’t blame you. You have your family here—Heejung cares about you as if you were her little sister.”
“That’s because I am,” She replies, aware that Heejung wouldn’t be her happiest had she known that Hoseok would be here. This fear she has of her falling in love with Hoseok is palpable through every advice that is thrown her way.
“Aren’t you letting go of me?”
“You’re expecting me to let go of a man like this?” She asks, hearing his loud laughter when he turns around and presses his back to the car, hands trailing up and down her extended arms. Something about the warmth of him reminds her of the start of a car—once she begins, she never stops, she likes the drive, enjoys it, prolongs it… “So sweet. I literally have never met a man like you.”
“Thank you.” His eyes look down at her lips, pressing a short kiss there before sighing. “Aren’t we going to try the car?”
She raises her eyebrows at that, reaching for the handle of the car and pushing his weight forward before jutting her chin towards the backseat. “We can try the car, why not?”
The expression he gives is of absolute surprise, the tips of his ears reddening when laughter can’t help but be released. Something about Hoseok is lively, not innocent, simply adoring of the life that surrounds him and when the moments of enchantment come over to him, he wants them to exist forever. “Huh, I wonder how we’re trying the car out.”
“We’ll make sure it’s comfortable.” She teases back, taking his face in between her hands and pressing an elongated, delicate kiss, one that has her releasing a breath when she pulls away from him. “If you want, of course.”
Hoseok lifts his body from the ground, standing on his tiptoes and looking around before letting his weight fall on the cushions of the backseat. “No one is going to come here?”
“Nope.” She replies, settling her body over his and pressing a short kiss to his lips. Something about him makes her feel even more alive than usual, as if life has never been this pretty in the past. “...Do you want to?”
His hands expand on her hips, nodding his head. “I’m not sure how your customer would react if they knew—”
“They won’t know.”
“...And that’s the fun.” Hoseok says, leaning back on the seat and letting her chest collide against his, his legs dangling outside of the vehicle before letting his lips drag from hers to her jaw, nipping at the skin softly, the contact of his soft flesh against her cheeks, her jaw and her neck bringing a smile to her face. “More of a reason to want to make you my girlfriend.”
Her hands trail over his shoulders, humming in delight at the sound of his voice, her heart palpitating faster than ever now that she recognizes those words. Seriousness, commitment, things that she would have never considered in the past but now have her chuckling against all the odds. There is only one year like this one, she’ll only be able to live this moment once...and why not enjoy it to its fullest potential?
The type to go all out, she interlocks her fingers with his before nodding. “Well, make me your girlfriend, then.”
Hoseok pulls away at that, eyes twinkling when he asks: “You want to?”
“Yes...” She whispers, feeling Hoseok turn her around until her back collided against the seat, hearing his hiss when he hits his head on the roof, the atmosphere switching from deep to absolute lightweight when she cackles at his antics. “And even more for that. I like me some fun in my life.”
“Alright, alright, don’t make fun of your new boyfriend like that.” Hoseok conquers, making her smile when she looks up at him.
This age of youth doesn’t sound so bad when he is there to accompany her.
🚗
The history of secrecy is simple, easy, created by two people, four matching eyes, two eloquent minds that think outing a briefly created relationship to the world of racing seems like an unprofessional move. The argument is secure—a month of a relationship may seem like the blooming period of the honeymoon phase, the reason why there is a smile always on her face and why there may be a waltz to her step, but from this point on, Hoseok is Wonho and she is the up-and-coming racer that everyone is seemingly talking about. Attending the same event at the same time is more of a reason to pretend they don’t know each other.
Well, more like pretending like this rivalry they had is still palpable and it has not obviously translated into romantic and sexual tension, now in the form of a relationship.
So far, so good, she tells herself as she brings her bottle of soda up to her lips—a soda brand is now her sponsor, there is something about drinks that gravitate heavily towards her team. Heejung is prideful, at least, the frown that had been given to her when she admitted to her relationship with Hoseok now changed into more of a smile. Her career is going good, not skyrocketing, but definitely not staying behind, sporting better uniforms, earning more money than she ever has, leaving all headaches behind and basking into the moment. She wants to enjoy it to utter perfection.
Not to say that it has ever been easy, much less when she realizes just how quickly she has to turn into a normal public figure. Be gone the honesty that characterizes her, now exchanged for the smile on her face as she gives that fake, athlete voice that showcases her as confident and overly spectacular in ever sense. All that leaves her mouth are brand names, the more well-known the better, the higher the price the more interesting. It is something that she doesn’t get used to, but someone else definitely has done the same thing and excelled at it.
Her fingers scratch the back of her head, pressing her face to Leo’s shoulder when she lets out a raged sigh. “I’m so tired. The flashes of the cameras are ruining my vision. I feel like I can’t see from one eye,” She confesses, though she is not one to bask on what bothers her, if the sun is too hot, she’ll only learn how to get used to it.
“Heejung, can’t we give her a break?”
“We cou—”
“No, I’m fine. I was just saying.” She finishes, lifting her face and jutting her chin out in pride before moving her head over her shoulder. “I only get an opportunity to get my dream coming true, so I’ll do my best at it.” The older woman puckers her lips up at that, staring down at her notebook before sighing deeply.
“Are you sure?” She asks, but before the racer could come up with an answer, she interrupts her. This is not a life that she is used to—behind a steering wheel, she is more at ease, controlling her own life, but the reigns of the press are taken by the masses, by the criticism, where being so much as a woman in an industry like the one she is in is already a downside, wrongly judged, stereotyped, definitely old-school and distasteful. “Listen, I love you, you know this already...but I need you to tell me when this gets to be too much.”
She walks forward, not knowing exactly where to go in this big event, where the food is too expensive to ever be worth eating and all she can do is think about sitting down in the comfort of her home and having the biggest slice of cake to celebrate another paycheck for this sponsorship. “It’s never too much for me.”
Heejung tugs at her arm, bringing her back with a serious expression on her face. “Clearly. You know I don’t like that mindset.” Though, she still moves her towards somewhere, perhaps looking for another interviewer in such a place. “I’m going to tell your little boyfriend to take care of you more often.”
“He takes care of me, Heejung.” She adds with an eye-roll, aware of Heejung’s hatred towards the man. “You just expect me to date a carbon copy of Leo.”
“You’d be lucky.” Heejung prompts, only to click her pen against her notebook quickly. “We don’t have an interview scheduled, but I heard we’d find Mr. Hong around here—”
Her attention diverted towards the group of people in front of her, all belonging to the team of the grand Wonho. She gives a tight lipped smile to Hoseok’s manager, to which she gets no other than a nod before she has to gravitate towards looking for him. Her gaze falls on his height, his stance, how he seems to be so fitted to be in front of a camera. It loves him, just like how she can’t get him out of her brain, wanting nothing more than to wrap her arms around his waist and seek for the comfort of him, the warmth he radiates from within.
Instead, she has to stay back, only being called when one of the reporters call for her name, making her widen her eyes as she looks between the cameras and her manager. Heejung whispers in her ear: “That’s Mr. Hong’s program. Go over there.”
“But—”
“Remember, keep the rivalry in between the two.”
No more is told until she confidently struts forward, not wanting to be seen like one to back down from anything. Once by Hoseok’s side, the cameras flash once again, the one recording pointed at the duo as a microphone gets closer to her lips. Her name is called and she can’t help but smile, this is exactly what she has dreamed about the entirety of her life. “...We were impressed by your performance in this season of the Formula One. Anything new planned?”
She leans towards the microphone, looking up at the camera with a smile on her face. “What is there not to be planned? Man, I’m going to be everywhere. You will not get to see the end of me.”
The interviewer, Mr. Hong apparently, now pushes the microphone towards Hoseok, tensing the atmosphere around them when he asks: “Wonho, we’ve seen you grow up in this field and you were beaten by a newbie in the industry. Do you think it’s safe to say you’ve been won over by a woman because of lack of preparation or because, for the first time, a woman is sufficient enough to be a racer?”
A woman, such a powerful title and yet dismissed as nothing in this athletic world. Hoseok’s lips part, looking over at her with absolute remorse, like he can’t hear those words without feeling bad for her. Though, she is not one that needs protection, instead speaking loudly, though the microphone barely captures her voice. “What the fuck does that question even mean?”
Mr. Hong pays her no mind, instead, settled on getting an interview with Hoseok. The man sends an apologetic gaze her way and she knows Hoseok will find a way out of this. “I don’t think...It has nothing to do with her being a woman. She’s just great. We—Uh, in this industry racers have to learn that we are not endless. Sometimes, someone will win over us.”
“Doesn’t seem like there is much of a rivalry in between you two like the headlines said? Have you gotten over the comparison in between the two? Have you settled on any thoughts about her?”
She doesn’t know why those questions sting, why she suddenly wants to take the microphone and curse at everyone. They want her for the drama, for being Hoseok’s little rival, for the laughs when she gets made fun of. She raises her eyebrows, staring at the side of Hoseok’s face waiting for him to say something. He blinks quickly before a small smile appears on his face. “Uh...I think I can accept someone’s hard work and passion past whatever my thoughts are about that racer.”
“But she’s known as your arch-enemy—”
Taking the microphone in between her hands and tugging it away, she finally speaks into it to defend herself, making sure that she is making herself loud and clear. “You want entertainment? Watch the motherfucking races. I don’t need to be treated like this,” She extends her hand, pointing at the interviewer. “Yes, I am a woman. Yes, I won against Wonho. Is that your problem? Did you bet on Wonho and that’s why you’re so pissy about it? I don’t give two shits about your show, you don’t get to talk that way to me or anyone.” She replies, making sure to throw the microphone at the man’s chest before turning around, hands shaking and legs moving far too quickly as she gets out of there as soon as possible. Heejung follows right behind her, calling her name out loudly.
The patter of the rain over her uniform, her body, is enough to have her freezing when Heejung trails after her best friend. “...Honey, listen to me. Hey, come here!”
She turns around, taking Heejung by the hands and looking into her eyes. “What are you going to tell me, huh?! That I needed to be more feminine, less vulgar, more smiley? I am tired of the interviews. I don’t want to be a product if that means having to be judged by everything I do—!”
“You’ve always been judged, you know this.” Heejung tries to reason with her but she shakes her head, biting down on her bottom lip as she feels it quiver.
She always has, for being irresponsible, for taking things too lightly. “Yes, but I thought I could be myself here. I thought I’d finally be able to stop hearing the fucking scolding about how I need to change. What is there to change?”
Heejung’s fingers grasp at her arm when she is trying to leave. “We’ll figure it out. We just need to talk to them. We have to show them you’re the good one of this story—”
“No,” She says, tugging her arm away from her friend’s hold. She goes over to her car, feeling her phone vibrate inside her pocket and she reaches for it once she is inside, though she keeps the door open to talk to Heejung. “I don’t want to go back there. I’m—” She looks down at her phone, watching Hoseok’s name as he texts her again and again.
“Wait for me.”
“Love, let’s talk.”
“I’m so sorry they treated you like that.”
“I’m staying here.” She finishes after reading the text messages, leaning back on her seat and watching Heejung get dripped by the water outside. “Hoseok wants to talk to me.”
“As he should,” Heejung breathes out, patting her hand against the roof of her car. “I’ll try to fix your career out there, alright?”
“Good luck.” She adds with an eye-roll, hands fiddling with the edge of the door and closing it when Heejung runs inside, welcomed by her husband with an umbrella already opened for her.
That is the type of love Heejung has always wanted for her; trustful, honest, crafted by time. She is not sure if she deserves it, for she has never taken anyone seriously—not until Hoseok, whose life could never connect to hers, everyone would dismiss him as weak and she would be seen ike a tick trying to get the blood of her opponent. She leans back on her seat, arms crossed over her chest as she feels her head fuming with anger. Everything burns, even when it is cold, even the radio has her angry when she pushes the button to turn it off.
In the matter of seconds, the figure of Hoseok rushing under the rain towards her car is enough for her to open the door, wait for him and see him slip inside. His hair is clinging to his forehead, black strands as dark as his eyes when he stares at her.
“I’m sorry.” The promise shouldn’t be quite as infuriating, but she nods her head, dismissing it as if it was nothing that he had said. “Hey, I mean it, I am really sorry. I should have said something else but I have never been asked questions like that—”
She leans her head on her hand, letting out an enraged sigh. “It’s okay, I didn’t expect it either.” She grumbles, biting on the inside of her cheek before slapping her hand against the steering wheel softly. “I’m just tired of being seen as less than you. As if I’m worse. We shouldn’t be compared.”
Hoseok hums at that, running his hands through his hair and pushing it back. “Yeah, that’s right, because we should be equals. We are both talented.”
Something overtakes her, blinking rapidly and engaging her jaw in a tight hold when she turns to look at him. “Is that it? You also don’t think I could be better than you sometimes? That’s why you didn’t say anything?”
Hoseok’s plush lips moisten themselves, newfound anger found on his features when he speaks up. “I didn’t say that, come on. We are a couple, we should be treated as the same—”
“But it sounds like you still can’t accept the fact that I can win, as well.” Her voice grows larger in tone, staring at him in disbelief when Hoseok lets out a scoff.
“Don’t scream at me, first off, you know I don’t like it when people argue like that—”
“I am not screaming at you!”
He raises his eyebrows, biting down on his bottom lip. Something inside of him is suddenly hurt, as if blood could pour out of his body at any time. “You know, it damn right sounds like you don’t ever want me to win a race again if you’re competing. I also have people working for me and a career to maintain, shouldn’t we just support each other and not mix our relationship with our job?”
“Oh my God, Hoseok, I’ve won against you once. You’ve won like a hundred times—”
“I know and I’m proud of you but—”
“No, you just want more money. You already have enough, why are you so pressed about me winning against you?”
He tugs his hair in between his hands, a reminder that Heejung had told her that two fires could only grow stronger together before everything dulled out for them. “I am not saying you can’t win against me. I’m just saying that it was wrong for them to treat you like that and that you are working hard. I also will do my best, you can’t expect me not to want to race anymore because you’re now in my picture.”
She lets out an enraged breath, loud enough to push the oyxgen out of her lungs as she starts the car. “I don’t want to argue with you anymore.”
“Okay.” Hoseok says, opening the door of the car and getting out. The action makes her soul ache, so he’d choose staying instead of going with her. “I’ll let you wind up and then, we’ll talk. Text me when you get home—”
“Of fucking course, you’re going to pick going back there.” She whispers, perhaps a bit tranced on what to do. She knows part of her is wrong, but she can’t bring herself to stop talking, in self-defense mode even against someone who cares deeply about her.
“Let’s just stop arguing.” Hoseok breathes out, not closing the door yet and for that with the opportunity to reach for her lips and give her a kiss. Something inside her tells her to pull away, moving her head to the side until his lips land on her cheek, the warmth of his breath against her skin when he sighs is enough for her to feel his disappointment. “Go home safely.”
“What a thing to tell a racer.” She whispers, guilt punching her in the gut when she watches the look of sadness on his face. Hoseok gets out of the car then, closing the door and walking away from the car as if it is meaningless.
It is not, but it feels like it is.
Even through this, she continues to love him, sends him that text and decides to ease through this fight. Maybe, they’ll get to get over it.
🚗
In the span of three months, everything can change.
She’d never realized how tiny her home was until she got a bigger one. How little she got paid until she got a bigger paycheck. She had never thought twice about how easy it was to feel alive when she did racing for fun, than in comparison to now, where everything is about competing. Three months and she has won races, lost them, gotten in, gotten out, and all that has remained the same has to be Lee Hoseok. Her boyfriend, fire that has become water, the waves clashing against each other, calming her down and bringing her to a state of endless relaxation.
Not to say it’s perfect...but the arguments that could ensue die down pretty quickly. Everything does with them. The passion is no longer living for the lifespan of hours, the kisses are softer now in comparison to how strong they used to be...it has changed, like it normally does with relationships, when the honeymoon phase starts to wear off and the love remains, exists, but it isn’t quite as palpable in the air.
Sometimes, she wonders if it is the fact that they are constantly asked about each other in public, from this supposed rivalry they have, that has desensitized their relationship. It has made them dull, wore them off, they have heard enough about the other to get tired, because it feels as though they come in pairs and not the best kind. People want them to be in a constant battle; they want to have a boxing match in a racing environment, she has heard enough about him and he has heard enough about her and while they know the truth, it is also difficult.
Because there is the terrible monster that is envy in the back of her head. Not of him, but of what she wishes they could be. A normal couple, they will never be, and if the news came out there that they are dating—everyone would want to tear them apart.
They’d call them a publicity stunt.
They’d call them liars.
Why is the world so difficult sometimes?
Putting her card down, she is reminded that she is playing poker with Heejung, seated in the mechanic shop she used to work at, now too busy to work there full time. The rough concrete digs in her skin through the fabric of her leggings, watching Heejung raise her eyebrows at the card before releasing a sigh. “Well, you’re playing even worse than usual...and you’re here instead of at Hoseok’s...what’s the matter?”
The matter is that it feels like she is not wanted, not loved, and it’s so stupid because the two of them do their best to show their appreciation for the other. It feels as though she is constantly competing, wanting to be better, stronger, wanting to win, win, win. The thirst for it has led her to change, the spark of mischief long gone for something...dull. She feels like she despises racing by now. “I’ve been ignoring his calls.”
“And why’s that?” Heejung asks, seated on Leo’s lap and being the epitome of happiness. They must have had their boring days...their nights in which they didn’t want to look at each other...and they got through it.
Could she get through this?
“I don’t know,” She says, dropping the cards to her lap and rubbing her hands against her aching eyes. Everything feels to be a thousand times more stressing than it was at the beginning. On any other night, she would have said how much she loved him—because she does, with every bit of herself, and being bored of someone who you love is not the right way to go. “I’m...All we seem to talk about is racing, and you know how I’ve been feeling about that lately.”
Leo, for the first time in his life, stops siding with her as he wraps his arms around his wife’s waist. “Maybe, because that’s all you have in common with him: racing.”
No.
That’s not—
Is it?
All that has connected them was racing and while she had always wanted to have someone who understood her because they lived the same lifestyle, it had never crossed her mind that it’d be this hard. They are in the same world, being constantly compared, constantly thrown against each other in ironies in order to get them to rival. Those words must have gotten to her and while she loves him...more like she has ever loved anyone, it must come from a place in which she connects with him, merely because she feels as though she needs to love him. He’s all she ever wanted: caring, sweet, with the right amount of spice, the perfect amount of passion, given and he gives back as much as he wants.
“That’s not it.” She tries to say, though her phone is once again vibrating and she stares ahead, trying not to look at Hoseok’s name. “Why would you think that?”
“It’s not that you don’t have to have anything in common with your partner,” Leo says. “It’s that you have to have dreams together in order to build a committed relationship. You’re in the same field and constantly plotted against each other, you don’t get to get back from work and sit down with him and tell him all that happened, because you guys always know.”
“But you two work together.”
“We lived very different lives.” Heejung adds in between a laugh, turning back to look at her husband with a smile. “But on the long run, we wanted to have something together. We know we have lives outside of our romance, though. We created something together, we had the same dream.”
“...I don’t get it.” She tries to push, picking up her phone and watching as the call suddenly dissipates into the thin air. He had hung up.
“All I’m saying is that you should’ve thought about what you wanted from him before dating him.” Leo conquers, making her push her lips up in distaste.
What had she wanted?
She had wanted to win against him.
She had wanted to try the fire inside of him.
...Was a relationship ever in their plans or had they gotten too excited?
She shakes her head, standing up from the floor and dusting her leggings with her hands. She pushes Hoseok’s contact on her phone, pressing the device to her ear and waiting for him to pick up. “Well, thanks for the advice, but...I don’t know, I feel like we can make it work. We’re just...We need some...We need to breathe sometimes, that’s all.”
“Whatever you say.”
When he picks up her call, confused as to why she wouldn’t pick up, she feels bad. She feels like a villain, then again, constant in her life but now even more prominent. This is the fairytale that she had always wanted, the dream she never had, the fire she wanted to be burnt by, the passion that she always needed...why does it feel so dull? Why does it feel like the two of them are only prolonging it because they have so much love and respect for each other that they need to stay together? She doesn’t know, she simply gets inside her car and asks Hoseok to meet up with her.
Enough it is for him to welcome her with a kiss, for his arms to wrap around her, for them to try for another night to connect...even when sometimes, it feels like everything is rushed.
A second with him must be better than her youth without him.
🚗
It is a sight to remember. The light of sunshine casting down white curtains, passing through elegantly, washing his body in its illuminence, only leaving his shadow for her. One would never think of that as metaphorical, but it is. With her eyes half opened, one of them closed, jaw aching from tightening it when she is asleep, she realizes she is in her room. Sometimes, she forgets how much she had changed from the moment she met him—that man that she adores, the shadow that only shows he has put his shirt on, looking ahead to the city even at such an early moment of the morning.
He’s not one to be up early usually, much less when he is staying in, but something must have been inside his head. She remembers briefly that he had called her name and maybe, that is why she had woken up. Her limbs extend, spine rotating over itself, straightening her back and her legs, waiting for him to say something else, notice that she has finally woken up.
He calls her once again and she groans, pressing her cheek to the pillow before releasing a few words at him, albeit sleepily:
“Yes, Hoseok, I’m here.” Sometimes, she’d say the same things when he had nightmares or when he was talking and he would ask if she’s listening. It’s mundane, the way she speaks, like how they had become. All because of the media, that press that had united them at first and now completely pulled them away.
His voice breaks, god, it hurts her head just to remember the sound of his voice when he says: “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” He voices out, cradling his own body with his hands as he speaks in a softer tone again. “I—I feel like I am boring you, and you’re boring me, too...”
He spoke it into existence, just exactly what she had been thinking, and she sighs, pushing the covers off her body and looking up at the ceiling. Losing him, her biggest fear, she doesn’t know what she will feel now that she sees him everywhere if he is no longer hers. “Well, I see where you’re coming from.” She whispers. “Why are you bored?”
“It doesn’t feel the same.” Hoseok says and she stands up, trying to reach for him but stopping herself, instead fixing her shirt and her sweatpants, the ones that had moved over her body in her sleep. “You’re always compared to me, I’m always pushed to hate you. I feel like it has strained our relationship...”
“It has.” She admits, her voice bitter when she closes her eyes tightly. “Hoseok, you’re not a boring guy. It’s—I think we just rushed through it.” Though, she can hear Heejung’s voice in her head telling her that she had told her so, but she would never regret dating him, the only man that could ever understand her fully, perhaps too much. “We were...so excited. We should have been more honest, taken more time, maybe we could have had a better foundation for our relationship.”
Finally, Hoseok turns around, sparing her a look that she would never forget. God, they look drained, devastated, as if they had given their all but it wasn’t enough. Had they never been compatible to start with? Two people that loved each other but could never be together. Four months of trying and trying… “I’m so sorry. This is my fault—”
“It isn’t.”
“It is—”
“Hoseok, we both did it. We both agreed to this.” She tries to reassure him, reaching over to him and patting her hand against his arm. She wanted to hug him, but they are on the verge of breaking up...she shouldn’t prolong this. Some stories are meant to be as short-lived as its beginning. “It’s—We didn’t know better. That happens.”
“...So...” Hoseok trails his voice, extending his hand and giving it to her. “Breaking up?”
“Breaking up.” She finishes, biting on her lip before she lets go of his hand. This was the first touch they had and their last.
When seeing him go, she realizes that her youth will probably not be as golden as it was with him, that it will be difficult to get back that spark that she used to have—that edge, though not angry, incredibly mischievous, really to enjoy life, to take over it.
From now on, she wants to enjoy everything one day at a time.
From now on, she’ll try to be more than just Wonho’s rival. The reason as to why they had broken up.
#wonho scenarios#wonho#monsta x scenarios#monsta x#kpop scenarios#writing#monsta x au#monsta x fluff#monsta x angst#wonho au#wonho fluff#wonho angst#racer!au#the anti-love club#FIRST ONE OF THE BUNCH#i've been working on this for mooooonths#tell me what you think of this!!!
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“Don’t you ever get lonely?” Nicky asked, digging in his pack for a chocolate bar. To their left, the cliff dropped away precipitously, sheer granite cliffs like sentinels at the end of the world.
Neil stared at Nicky. “No,” he said.
“What, never?”
Neil looked out across the sweeping vista of mountains before them. A speck that could have been a hawk or a raven or a sparrow spun against the sky, too small and distant to judge. He’d stood in the middle of busy cities; he’d gone to school with hundreds; he’d even tried out for a track and field team once. He’d been surrounded by people, and he had been so ferociously lonely it had been like a knife in his chest.
“No,” he said, because he didn’t know how to explain—didn’t even want to, really. He’d felt more alone back in the so-called real world than he’d ever felt in the wilderness, miles from any other person. When there was no one around, there was no one to miss.
~~~The Long-Distance Hiker AU (A Bullet Point Fic)~~~
So after Neil’s mom died he kinda of ghosted around for a while and eventually ended up in a small hiking town in California
He met a bunch of thru hikers and figured, hey, my dad probably won’t find me if I’ve fucked off into the wilderness
So he starts hiking
And pretty soon he realizes it’s the best thing he could imagine
He spends all summer in the mountains and when winter rolls around he finds a temporary job in a skiing town working in a second hand gear shop
He’s an ultralighter in the most accidental sense possible
His gear is weird and cobbled together and his shoes are held together with dental floss
He sleeps under a tarp with a down blanket and a thin foam mat and he’ll eat the same shit day in day out without even registering it while he covers frankly obscene distances every single day
It basically gives Kevin an ulcer
Kevin’s an ultralighter, but in the stuck up, rich bitch way; his gear is probably worth thousands of dollars and he’ll lecture anyone who listens about ripstop nylon and is super snobby and elitist about who is a so-called “real” thru hiker (hint: anyone who doesn’t do it his way isn’t a real thru hiker)
(don’t worry he’ll get smacked around a little by people like Dan and stop being such a little bitch about it but he grew up rich so even though it might’ve been shit living with Riko he really doesn’t always take into consideration the context of how much fucking money gear costs when he’s preaching about ultralighting)
(yes I’m taking out my dislike for pretentious rich ultralighters on him, okay, but the difference is he’ll have character growth versus the people I met are probably still being preachy and self-important to this day)
Andrew’s like the exact opposite
His pack weighs like seventy pounds and he’ll pull a six-inch knife (a gross misuse of smart gear weight management) at anyone who comments
He has a completely contained single person tent that’s big enough to sit up in and a four-inch inflatable mattress
His sleeping bag is rated to like -20 even when he’s hiking in the summer
Nicky swears he once saw him pull a full-sized chocolate cake out of his backpack three days down the trail and everyone says that’s stupid and made up but secretly think its totally true
Andrew likes to hike alone but somehow he’s never more than a day away from Aaron and Nicky and when he keeps showing up near them it gets harder and harder to pretend like he doesn’t actually care about them
Nobody says anything, obviously, but Nicky gets a little teary when he starts to notice the pattern
It was Nicky’s idea; in this universe Erik got him into hiking when he was in Germany so he got the cousins into it as a bonding exercise and then it turned out it was the best family activity they had ever found
This is several years after they graduated and they’ve scrounged together enough time and money to hike the Pacific Crest Trail
Now the upperclassmen:
So Stephanie Walker is a trail angel: one of those people who lives near a long trail and provides snacks and rides and somewhere to stay and basically helps out anyone who comes by with whatever’s going on; she’s pulled a lot of people out of frankly dangerous situations and she’s not afraid of anything the trail has to offer
So Renee finds herself and her faith while living this life of meeting new hikers every day and it’s almost inevitable that she starts to hike and find solace in the wilderness
Allison is one of those Wild types: she’s done some hiking (much to her parents’ chagrin) but she’s never done a thru trail or even much overnighting before, but she’s ready to throw herself into it and doesn’t care how dirty she gets
She totally carries a tiny spa package though
The other women are very skeptical because they take pride in being free from societies expectations and make up and shaving but they come around after Allison pulls it out one time when they’re seven days into a ten day section and gives them face masks and they all have a little pedicure pampering session (so, so needed when your feet are being beaten and bruised by hard terrain all day)
She has a lot of new, expensive gear and is super touchy about people trying to help her (because a beautiful woman absolutely gets people trying to “help” all the time and it’s infuriating and condescending) but she learns to accept help from her closest friends
She was showing off near the beginning of the trail drinking with a bunch of guys and probably got too sloshed trying to act tough (alcohol hits you waaaay harder at high elevations dude, if you’re not expecting it you can get Fucked Up really fast)
It’s Seth who realizes things are getting out of control and pulls her out before the guys can do anything shitty which is how their friendship and eventually their relationship gets started
They piss everyone off with their constant breaking up and getting back together on the trail, sometimes hiking together for days and then splitting up and going to hike with other people but they find a lot of healing out there in the woods
Seth’s mom is totally dismissive and condescending of his hiking, she thinks it’s a stupid waste of time, but she thinks everything he does is a stupid waste of time so at least when he’s out there without cell service he has an excuse to not respond to her
Now Dan
Dan’s trailer trash, right
She’s got no fucking cash but she has this dream in her head to hike the PCT and she’s going to fucking well do it
Her gear is probably most similar to Neil’s except where his is a mess of weird priorities and held together by spit and twine
Hers is meticulously planned
It’s cheap, some of it’s over forty years old, but it’s hers
It’s probably the only stuff in the world that’s actually hers
She accumulated it over about four years, hitting all the second-hand gear events, saving up every penny, packing and repacking and writing everything out in great detail until David Wymack got wind of her plans at a gear event
He’s one of those guys who hiked the PCT thirty years ago back before anyone knew what it was except instead of feeling superior about that it means he knows exactly how much impact experiencing the wilderness can have for disenfranchised people
He approaches Dan and offers to sponsor her hike
She’s resistant at first; she planned this hike, she got all the stuff together, she was going to do it without anyone’s help
But he comes back and says he just wants her to write about her experiences and publish it on his website
He’ll pay her for the work, of course
And she wavers and finally caves because this will move her plans up by about two years if she can make money while she’s hiking instead of having to hoard up enough cash to take six whole months off
Her blog posts are a huge hit
She doesn’t preach about how the mountains saved her, or get too metaphorical about hiking or anything like that
She just talks about the real, raw experience of hiking
The friendships, the trials, the triumphs
The infuriating people whose mental image of the hiking community doesn’t include poor black girls who grew up in a trailer park, who say she’s an inspiration like they actually mean something else
She talks about the days that she flies up the mountains and the days that she can barely drag herself out of her tent and the day she realizes that Allison and Renee, these women she thought could not be more different from her, are the best friends she’s ever had in the world
And she’s takes fucking amazing pictures
She’s also very determined not to have a trail romance
That’s stupid and cliché
Look that guy Matt might be hot but she’s not interested
He’s clearly working through some stuff and she’s not here to be some guys savior or whatever
So Matt then
His mom helped him get sober a couple years ago and he’s been struggling with it ever since
She got him into hiking as an outlet and a healthy hobby and he took to it like a fish to water
He’s got legs for days and he doesn’t mind carrying a heavy pack, he can hike for hours without stopping
(The fact that he’s faster than her pisses Dan off a bit, but sometimes you gotta accept that you’ve got short legs and just hike your own hike, there aren’t any prizes for speed)
He relapsed again a couple months before his hike started and he and Randy weren’t even sure if he was going to be able to do it but he’s damned well going to try
So anyway
Pretty much everyone is trying to actually hike the PCT except Neil
He drives everyone bonkers
His motivation isn’t really about the trail so much as staying out in the wilderness where there are no gangsters to murder you
So he just does whatever he wants and keeps showing up at random points
He’s technically got one of the thru hiker permits but he frequently goes off on side trails not on the PCT and ends up hiding out in the woods so rangers won’t find him
He’ll just hitchhike straight through boring sections or anywhere that you pass through too many towns where he’d rather not be remembered
He keeps coming back to the PCT but it’s more like it’s a rough guideline of where to go than an actual route he’s taking
He’s got his natural colouring back because who’s dying their hair or wearing fucking contacts on the trail?
But also
Who would ever associate a runaway mafia kid with a guy with overgrown hair and a stained t-shirt who’s sitting serenely on a mountain pass in a photo on David Wymack’s website?
Nobody
That’s right kids, Nathan doesn’t have a role in this one because he doesn’t find Neil
Maybe he gets killed in a shoot out or something and some other gangster steps up and takes over, and in the shuffle Neil’s just kinda forgotten
Maybe he finds out months later and he just stares at the computer in shock because he should have known, shouldn’t he? He should have felt it when his father died
He should have realized that he was free
That happens later though
Who fucking cares what Riko’s doing honestly
Kevin has somehow attached himself to Andrew and is driving him up the wall with advice to improve his hiking/base weight/distance/etc and he sees this guy (Neil) who regularly covers like thirty or forty miles a day (obscene!) and is like YES this guy is my people!
Except when he starts talking to Neil he realizes he’s this total weirdo who doesn’t even have a cook set he just eats cold food (a common enough thing among ultralighters, but not like this. Oh god, not like this)
Neil’s just sitting there gnawing on a pack of uncooked ramen like a fucking animal
And he’s not! Even! Hiking! Properly!
You’ll never finish the trail if you hike like this!
Neil just gives him a blank look
He’s got no interest on getting on some “verified” list of people who hiked the PCT, he just likes hiking
Andrew likes him
I mean obviously he despises him what the hell is with that janky ass setup but also he’s so unconventional and unapologetic how could Andrew not be into that?
They’re the kind of people who give wilderness rescue personnel grey hair, but for completely opposite reasons
Neil keeps running into them because even though he covers so much ground every day, his meandering route means he doesn’t actually move down the trail very fast
They’ll be like wait weren’t you like a week ahead of us and he’s like oh yeah I heard about this cool waterfall and took a sixty mile side trail to visit it and nearly ran into a momma bear with two cubs, it was awesome
And they all start to grow on him, and each other, almost accidentally
Look none of them are out there romanticizing the trail as some kind of magical place where the problems of the real world disappear and the people are somehow more pure and true or whatever
People are people and they bring their issues wherever they go
But there is a paring down
When your daily concerns are just mileage and shoes and food and weather, a lot of other stuff fades into the background
And well the truth is a lot of people are on those trails to work through stuff
And they find each other
Gradually, without even really noticing
They team up in June, groups of three or four with crampons and ice axes to get over the Sierra’s.
Neil was planning to just do side hikes and wait for the snow to melt—he isn’t so reckless he wants to go over the ice alone, but Kevin insists he join them and for the first time he hikes in a group with Kevin and the cousins all together.
It’s weird
He’s not used to people talking to him when he’s hiking and he frequently doesn’t respond and it’s not because he’s being rude he’s just so focussed on what he’s doing and what’s around him that he literally doesn’t hear them
And then
Nicky slips
It’s not his fault, they did nearly everything right (Kevin may be a pretentious ass, but he does know his shit) but sometimes shit just happens for no reason
And they’re at the edge of the ice sheet so Nicky’s just untying himself from the rope that links them together, he’s not even moving, and the snow beneath him shifts and he doesn’t even have time to scream before he’s hurtling down the snow below the trail towards the cliff at the bottom of the ice sheet
Neil doesn’t even hesitate
He dives after him, ice axe in one hand like a fucking gladiator and gets his arm wrapped around Nicky’s waist
He slams the ice axe into the snow and it drags behind them, and it looks like it’s not going to catch, and the edge is getting closer and closer—
Until the axe catches something, and Nicky and Neil lurch to a halt, clinging to each other, hanging off of Neil’s one arm and the axe.
Neil looks up and sees Andrew, Aaron and Kevin in various places on the slope above them, their axes dug in and long gouge marks in the snow beneath their heels, strung together by a ropeline that’s still attached to Neil’s waist
That rope is probably the only thing that slowed them down enough that Neil could stop them without ripping his arm clean off
It’s hardly a by-the-book rescue, and in fact it was pretty stupid, but they’re okay, they’re okay, that’s all that matters
That night they light a fire down by a lake and Nicky cries on Aaron’s shoulder and Andrew keeps clenching his fists because he’s never felt so helpless in his life and it was Neil that jumped, not him
He knows that he was at the far end of the line and he would’ve made it worse if he had, but doing nothing while Neil risked his life to save Nicky
They don’t really talk about it
But you kind of can’t help being friends after that
And even after they’re out of the high mountains and back on solid trails Neil keeps tabs on them
And Nicky befriends the others and without even meaning to they start to develop a sort of loose trail family vibe
They’re not hiking together all the time like some of the groups they meet, but they check on each other all the time and wait up in resupply villages and bond over firepits and shitty hot chocolate mixes and swap tips on how to keep the butt-chafing at bay
Neil sticks to the outskirts, mostly, but he starts to open up a little, in fits and spurts, tiny non-specific things that wouldn’t even register to most people but that this particular group knows means more than that
He’s slowing down, too, sometimes hiking entire days with people and covering half his usual distance even when there’s no cliffs or glaciers threatening him
He likes hiking with Andrew the most, though
Because neither of them are big talkers when they’re hiking and Andrew’s pack might be absurdly heavy but he’s got legs the size of tree trunks and endurance to match, so he might not be fast but he can outwalk half the people on the trail by sheer relentlessness
They both like to camp up high, near treeline (so Neil can set up his tarp) and in the places that it’s legal they’ll start a small fire and Andrew will loan Neil his pot so he can actually cook his fucking ramen for once and sometimes they’ll watch the Milky Way rise and share secrets under the open sky, not looking at each other so they don’t break the illusion, and sometimes they won’t say anything at all but it’s okay, because they’re saying nothing together.
It’s nice
It’s maybe more than nice
The summer draws to a close and Neil is starting to realize that he doesn’t want it to
He never wants the hiking season to end but this time it’s different
This summer has been perfect
And he knows deep in his bones that once they leave the trail things will change
The others have lives to return to, and Neil…
The trail is all he has
And if he’s barely hiking alone at all these days, well, who’s going to call him out on it?
The others like having him around because he stops them from getting too fixated on the Trail to see the trail
He still takes side trips but now sometimes people will come along and he’ll stand at the base of a canyon staring up at the glossy white walls and Dan will snap a photo for her blog and smile, because the PCT is just a line on a map, but the hike is all of them; together
He’s hiking with Andrew in September when a storm hits, this time vicious
Neil huddles under his tarp in resignation
Storms suck, he always gets wet, no matter how much he lowers the tarp, but he’s used to it; he just waits it out
But it’s just getting worse
Hail lashing at the tarp and pummelling the ground and maybe for once he regrets camping so high up
And Andrew has to shout to be heard but finally Neil realizes he’s offering to let Neil come into his tent
You’re going fucking freeze, just get in here
Neil goes
It’s weird
It’s instantly weird
The tent is not built for two people, so they’re both sitting cross legged with their heads ducked to not press against the roof
The storms probably not going to let up soon, Andrew says
Yeah, Neil says.
Andrew sighs
Lie down, he says, and Neil does, and Andrew lies down next to him, shoulder to shoulder
It barely works, only because neither of them are very big people
Neil’s pack is outside wrapped in his tarp and all he has is his damp down blanket but he’s not cold anymore, not with Andrew bundled up in his ridiculous sleeping bag right next to him
The storm rages for nearly two days and what passes between them in that tent, nobody knows
If they’re barely ever seen apart after it, well. You only see people so often on the trail. It could easily be a coincidence
And if Neil doesn’t even set his tarp up on rainy nights anymore, well. They never camp near other people anyway, so who’s to know?
In early October the snow blows in, blocking the route to the finish.
They drift around a resupply village for almost two weeks, waiting for the trail to reopen, but finally even Kevin accepts that it isn’t going to
After all of that, none of them are going to finish the trail
It’s a disappointment—of course it is. For most of them, the end of their trip is now a nondescript exit into a village, no fanfare, no closure; they didn’t even know they were done for days
Still, it’s not so bad
They’re all together
Allison suggests Vegas, but they all laugh it down; they wouldn’t even know how right now, bearded and hairy and ravenous as they are
They go to South Carolina instead
It’s not really even discussed that they’ll stay together, they just all go; Allison hosts them at her resort and they laugh at the incongruous weirdness of seeing each other in real clothes, and it’s different, but it’s also okay
They stay for another two weeks, and they don’t hike another fucking inch
We should try the Continental Divide Trail sometime, Dan says
Her blog is so popular now that she’s got sponsorships from more than just Wymack waiting for her
She could make a career out of hiking and blogging and doing gear reviews and it’s a dream she’d never even realized she wanted until she had it
And if she accidentally fucked up and ended up with a hot trail boyfriend? Well, nobody’s perfect
And he has a great butt
(she has photos of it on her blog, from when they jumped into a glacier lake naked back in August)
Everyone is jealous
How about that trek in Iceland? Matt suggests
Or the whats-it-called in New Zealand, Allison says
Oh, I bet there’s some good ones in Europe! Nicky says. You guys can all meet Erik!
And it’s going to be different, but it’s not going away, and Neil feels calm in a way he never has at the end of a hiking season before
Eventually everyone has to start making plans to return to their lives, and jobs, and Neil sneaks out to the back of the house to sit in crisp fall air and watch leaves spiral down out of the trees
Andrew follows him
They sit together, watching the moon rise over the hills, and when Andrew asks Neil to come home, Neil says yes
#me? coping with my inability to go hiking by writing headcanons? its more likely than you think!#aftg headcanons#aftg au#andreil#bulletpoint fic#my writing#hiker au#gratuitous descriptions of hiker life#found family#this is like 3.5k idk man#this is very self indulgent lol
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My Heartbeat Shows the Fear (1/4) - schitt’s creek ff
Summary: A canon divergent story: Patrick gets into a car accident and it brings the Brewers to town sooner.
Notes: This fic will be posted in 4 chapters, every other day. There is some description of injuries, but nothing too graphic or life-threatening.
The title is from "Overkill" by Colin Hay, which thanks to the show Scrubs puts me in mind of hospitals.
Thank you to Amanita_Fierce for putting so much time and thought into betaing this fic - you made it so, so much better. And thanks also to @high-seas-swan for some helpful suggestions, particularly on that one scene that I tore apart and rewrote.
Rated Teen, this chapter 5278 words. (ao3)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 1
Patrick drifted into wakefulness like rising from a deep dive to the surface of the water. He became aware first, before even opening his eyes, of David’s arm over his chest and his hand curled protectively around the side of his ribcage. The sheets were soft against his skin and the duvet was a comforting weight over his body and he never wanted to move from this spot. Patrick lifted his own hand and dropped it clumsily over David’s, calloused fingertips tracing gently over David’s knuckles.
“Good morning,” David said in a surprisingly coherent voice for first thing in the morning.
Opening his eyes to see David watching him was an unusual experience. As he blinked sleep out of his eyes, Patrick tried to remember if David had ever woken up before him, and the only occasion he could summon to mind was New Year’s Day, after a night when Patrick had gotten much drunker than David had.
“Why are you awake so early?” Patrick yawned.
David shrugged. “It’s almost eight o’clock; you’re just sleeping later than usual.”
Groaning, Patrick started to sit up. The very energetic sex they’d indulged in last night must’ve really worn him out. “We’ve gotta get up and get started on those vendor pickups.” It was Monday and the store was closed, but they had so many pickups to do this week that they’d grudgingly agreed to do them on their day off, splitting the list in half.
“Mmm, five more minutes,” David said, holding Patrick down with the arm across his chest and shifting closer, their naked bodies coming into closer contact. Patrick closed his eyes and took a moment to appreciate that David hadn’t gotten up to put on pajamas last night, his usual routine even now that Patrick had his own apartment. Patrick was starting to suspect that he could read David’s lack of clothes the next morning as a particularly positive review on his performance in bed the night before.
“What are you smiling about?” David asked.
“Last night,” Patrick responded without opening his eyes. They really needed to get up, he thought, but lazing around in bed with David was very tempting.
David made a pleased sound in the back of his throat. “Yeah, that was, um…” He nuzzled against Patrick’s shoulder. “If that’s what happens after you go on a date with someone else, I’m almost inclined to tell you to do it again.”
Patrick bristled at that. “That’s not funny.”
“Sorry,” David whispered, pressing a supplicating kiss against Patrick’s arm.
“Besides, I bailed partway through the date,” Patrick said.
“Mm. Poor Ken,” David said. “He has no idea what he’s missing out on.”
Patrick frowned, turning onto his side and dislodging David from his chest. “You didn’t expect me to sleep with Ken, did you?”
David opened and closed his mouth. “Not sleep with, no.”
The same queasiness that Patrick had felt last night as he drove to meet Ken rose up in his stomach. “Then, what? A quick handjob in my car?”
David shot him a guilty look. “No,” he said, but then bit his lip. “Or, I don’t know. Maybe something like that. Something that you’ve only experienced with me that you might be… curious about experiencing with another man.”
Patrick sighed. “Okay, first of all, I’m not particularly curious about experiencing stuff like that with other men.”
“Yeah, you said—”
“And if I do become curious, or… or want to … explore with another guy in the future, you and I are going to have to be a lot clearer with each other about what is and isn’t going to happen.”
“Ground rules,” David grumbled.
“Yeah, I guess.” Patrick leaned over and kissed him. “But, David.” He kissed him again. “It’s so good with you. I sort of can’t imagine anyone else not being a huge step down in quality.”
He watched David’s face go on a journey before settling on pleased. “That’s very flattering. But sometimes the point is that it’s a stranger. Or at least, someone you aren’t going to see again.”
Patrick pulled back. “Is that something you want?”
David rolled his eyes, dismissing that idea with a flap of his hand as he looked up at the ceiling. “God no. I had a lifetime’s worth of casual sex.”
Reaching out, Patrick put his hand on David’s cheek, turning his head so that they were looking at each other again. David’s face softened, his eyes gazing into Patrick’s in the way that always made his stomach swoop. Made Patrick want to sink into David’s arms and never let go. “And if that ever changes, will you tell me?”
There was a pause, and then David nodded. “Of course. Will you tell me? If you change your mind?”
Patrick nodded. “I promise.” And then he pulled David closer, kissing him deeper and with more tongue than was probably warranted given their morning breath. For once, David didn’t complain.
After a minute, Patrick had to wrench his mouth away and force himself to sit up. “Okay, if we don’t get up now, I’m going to end up fucking you again.”
David smirked. “What’s so wrong with that?” And then he wiggled his hips and his expression became more thoughtful. “Although I’m still feeling what you did to me last night.”
Patrick winced. They had gone at it pretty hard, he remembered with a mixture of desire and guilt. “Sorry.”
“No, no,” David said. “It was perfect and don’t you dare apologize. Just not sure if I can get fucked again right at this precise moment.”
Patrick whipped the covers off and stood up, ignoring his own visible arousal. “You aren’t going to be. You’re gonna get ready to do the pickups west of town.”
David whined and stuck his bottom lip out. Patrick turned away from him and padded barefoot across the hardwood floor before he was tempted to bite David’s lip, because that way did not lead toward getting their vendor pickups done. “Can you make us some breakfast while I shower?” Patrick called over his shoulder. David’s “ugh fine” reached his ears just as he was closing the bathroom door.
Once he had showered and shaved, Patrick emerged back into the apartment, a towel around his waist. David had pulled on a sweatshirt and drawstring shorts and was in the kitchen making Patrick’s tea. The domesticity of it made something tender and fragile swell in his chest. He loved having David here in his apartment, and he felt a wild desire to just ask David to move in, his resolution to take his time with that step in their relationship be damned. In moments like this, his original idea that he wanted to spend some time living on his own seemed silly. As he pulled on underwear and jeans (glancing over his shoulder to catch David checking out his ass), a t-shirt and a v-neck sweater, he imagined it — David’s clothes in his closet (well, some of them), David’s shoes by the door, his journal on the nightstand, his products finding a permanent home in Patrick’s bathroom rather than lugged back and forth between the motel and the apartment in David’s bag.
“Your mom is texting.”
Startled, Patrick looked over to David, who was pointing at Patrick’s phone on the kitchen counter. “I’m gonna shower,” David continued, unaware of the track of Patrick’s thoughts. “Here’s your tea and some toast.”
Patrick walked over and picked up his phone in one hand and a piece of toast in the other.
Mom: Can you call when you get a chance?
Oh yeah, the other reason he wasn’t ready to ask David to move in yet, he thought with a surge of shame. His parents.
Figuring David would be in the bathroom for a while yet, Patrick unlocked his phone and placed the requested call.
“Hi, sweetheart!” his mother said in a chipper voice.
“Everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine, we were just having breakfast and realizing that we hadn’t heard from you in a while. How are things with you?”
Patrick looked at the closed bathroom door, and then moved over to the other side of the apartment. “Things are good. I’ve got vendor pickups to do today.”
“You work so hard, dear. I hope you are taking some time for yourself too.”
“I am.” He thought about dates with David, or curling up on the bed and watching movies with David, none of which he was ready to talk to his mother about. He knew it was time. It was way past time, but he could never get the words to come out when he was on the phone with his parents. “I went two for four in my last game,” he said. Baseball was always a safe topic.
“That’s great!” his mother said, the enthusiasm she’d always shown for his athletic activities obvious in her voice. “I bet they’re glad to have you on the team.”
“Uh huh. It’s a fun team.” He thought about how easy it was to be out of the closet around them — mentioning his boyfriend as the team drank beers together at the Wobbly Elm after practice, or kissing David after games when he came to watch. It was nice. He wanted that same ease with his family, to be able to mention David in passing as more than just his business partner. He ran a finger along the top of the framed picture on his desk, of him and David on Christmas Eve last year, arms around each other at the Roses’ party. Patrick had a hard time taking his eyes off of David in that photo sometimes, radiant in a silver sweater under the warm Christmas lights.
“Well,” she said, like she was hoping for him to say something else. After a pause in which he didn’t, his mother continued, “I should let you get on with your day.”
“Yeah.” He sighed, guilt churning in his stomach yet again at the fact that he couldn’t just be fucking honest with this mother. That the life he shared with his parents was more gaps than substance. “I’ll call again when I have more time to talk.”
“Okay,” she said, the happiness gone from her voice. He’d done that with his evasiveness, Patrick thought. He’d made his mother sad. “I love you, sweetheart.”
“Love you, too, Mom.”
~*~
David pulled up in front of the store in the Lincoln and pushed on the heavy driver’s door with a grunt. He stood up, his sweatshirt sticking to the small of his back with sweat. The vinyl seats were one of things he hated most about that car, and he hated a lot of things about it. He wasn’t that fond of Patrick’s car either, but at least it had slightly more comfortable seats. In any case, their divided errands had made borrowing Patrick’s car impossible, so he was stuck with the Lincoln.
He unlocked the door to the store and ducked his head in. “Patrick?” he called. Patrick’s car wasn’t out front, but it was possible he’d pulled around to the back to unload. When no one answered, David pulled out his phone and sent off a text: How close are you to getting back? There was no answer, so David assumed Patrick was driving. He opened his text chain with Stevie and texted, Can you come help me at the store for a minute?
Stevie: I’m busy working.
David: You’re not that busy if you’re texting me back.
She didn’t answer. “Fuck,” David whined to no one, resigning himself to having to unload the entire car by himself. This was why splitting up the vendor pickups had been a terrible idea, he thought as he muscled a crate of honey out of the trunk. Now here he was, all alone with very heavy things to carry.
By the time he had all of the new merchandise stacked in the back room, he was drenched with sweat and there was still no sign of Patrick. Well, just for that, he wasn’t going to wait around, David thought churlishly as he locked up and got back in the car. He was going to go take a shower at the motel and Patrick could unload by himself too.
He briefly considered going to Patrick’s apartment to shower; his water pressure was better and David had a couple of changes of clothes there. Plus, he had a key, and Patrick had said that he was welcome to come and go as he pleased. But he also knew that living alone was something that Patrick wanted — it was something he’d never had before, he’d admitted to David on the day he’d signed the lease. He’d gone from his parents’ house to a dorm to apartments with a series of roommates to living with Rachel to rooming with Ray. He’d never had his own place. David understood that and he wanted Patrick to have what he needed, not have David unexpectedly underfoot when he perhaps wasn’t welcome. Still, it didn’t stop his heart from aching a little bit. He wanted to live with Patrick, he’d realized. He had been ready to take that step and Patrick hadn’t been. It stung.
Alexis was doing something on the laptop computer at her little desk when David walked into their shared room, and she looked up at him and wrinkled her nose.
“Ugh, David, what happened to you?” she asked.
Narrowing his eyes, he dropped his bag on the bed. “I was working. What are you talking about?”
“You’re all gross and sweaty,” she replied.
“It’s hot out today, and I had to do a bunch of vendor pickups in that boat of a car and then unload everything into the store by myself because Patrick’s not back yet,” he complained. He collected a change of clothes and marched into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him to punctuate how tough his day had been. Okay, he’d been able to sample some of the new butter cookies that Mrs. Franklin sold through their store, and maybe she’d also given him a glass of lemonade, but still.
After a shower, David felt worlds better, although there was still no reply from Patrick to his text.
“What is taking him so long to get back?” David muttered as he dug through his cedar chest. The sweater he was looking for didn’t appear to be in there, another annoyance in a day of annoyances.
“What’s the matter?” Alexis asked.
David waved at her, his hand flapping at the end of his wrist. “Patrick’s just taking forever to finish his vendor pickups,” he said, trying to ignore the worry beginning to gnaw in his stomach. “It’s fine.”
“I hope you had a talk last night, David,” Alexis said, her eyes not coming up from her laptop. “No more fooling around with anyone outside the relationship until you’ve established some ground rules.”
David whipped around and glared at her. “Can you let that go, please? We’re fine.”
“No thanks to you,” she said.
He suppressed a squawk. “We had a healthy talk about it this morning. We’re fine.”
“Good,” Alexis said.
“Also the sex last night was very hot—”
“David, ew.” She stuck her tongue out. “Don’t tell me that.” But then she sort of half-smiled at him. “I’m glad you guys are okay.”
David smiled back. He was glad too. “He makes me…” David started to say, then thought better of being so vulnerable in front of his sister. But what the hell; she’d been there for him last night when he needed someone. He moved over to his bed and sat down to put on his shoes. “He makes me feel safe. No one’s ever… I’ve never dated anyone who made me feel safe before.”
Alexis, to her credit, didn’t make fun of him, although the squinty smile she gave him made him recoil, grimacing.
“Kids!” his dad called as he barged into the room. “We’re headed over to the café for dinner. Do you want to join us?”
Alexis shook her head. “I’m going over to Ted’s for dinner.”
David picked up his phone and sent another text to Patrick. Are you still not back yet? And then he stared at the screen, waiting to see dots to indicate Patrick was texting back, or at least to see a read receipt. The ball of worry in his stomach grew a little bit bigger.
“David, do you want to come with your mother and me?” Johnny asked.
“I was supposed to eat at Patrick’s,” he said. “But maybe. I don’t know.” He switched apps and called Patrick’s phone, holding it to his ear and listening to it ring and ring and ring. With every ring, he felt his breathing rate tick up.
“Well, we’re going now, so I need you to decide,” Johnny said irritably.
David slapped his phone down on the bedspread and threw his hands up. “Then go without me; it’s fine!”
“David, I’m not going to wait around for a second evening that I’m supposed to spend with Ted while you have another meltdown about—”
“No one’s having a meltdown!” David shouted. “I just don’t know where my boyfriend is!” He looked at the time, feeling queasy. His previous annoyance was gone and now he was just worried. Patrick really should have been back hours ago. He tried calling again.
“David, you need to be a little bit less clingy—” Alexis said.
“Okay, well, we’re going to go,” Johnny said. “You can join us later, if…”
David’s phone vibrated in his hand, and he saw he had a call from an unknown number coming in as he tried to call Patrick. Maybe Patrick’s phone had died and he was calling from someone else’s phone, he thought as he clicked to answer.
“Hello?”
“Hello, is this David Rose?” asked a woman in a sharp, business-like tone of voice.
“Yes, who is this?” he snapped.
“This is Cheryl calling from Elmdale Hospital. We’ve got a Patrick Brewer here and he gave us your number as his emergency contact.”
“Oh, God.” There was a rushing noise in his ears and his mouth tasted like bile as he tried to shape it into making useful words. “What happened to him? Is he okay?” David clutched the edge of his bed, feeling dizzy, heart racing.
“There was a car accident and he was brought in by ambulance a little while ago. He’s having some tests done, but I can’t disclose any information about his health to you over the phone. If you come to the hospital—”
David hung up. He imagined Patrick’s car, the car he’d ridden in countless times on their way to movie dates or dinner, speeding through the countryside as Mariah Carey or one of Patrick’s alt-folk bands blasted out of the shitty speakers. Patrick’s car, mangled on a deserted road somewhere, no one around for miles. How long did it take before an ambulance came? How long was he lying there alone, broken and injured by the side of the road?
“David, you’ve gone very pale,” Alexis said.
“Is Patrick all right?” Johnny asked as Moira wandered in.
“John, I’m a bit peckish,” she said. “Are we leaving soon?”
“Patrick was in a car accident,” David said. Everyone’s voices sounded muffled to his ears, even his own. “I need to go to the hospital.” He stood up and looked around for the keys. He didn’t think he’d returned them to his father’s stupid little hook in the other room. Where were they?
There was a flurry of activity and then Alexis was at his side. “I’ll drive.”
David ignored her. He didn’t have time to think about Alexis right now. Where were the fucking keys?
Alexis held up her hand. “I have the keys and I’m driving,” she said, and David spared a moment to be confused about what he’d just thought to himself and what he’d said out loud. “You’re shaking,” she said pointedly. “Put your shoes on and let’s go.”
“Is he all right, David?” his mother asked as David sat back down on the bed and reached for his shoes. His fingers felt numb and clumsy.
“I don’t know.”
He looked up to see his parents exchange a nervous glance.
“I mean, they said they were doing tests. They wouldn’t say that if he was, like…” Dead, his brain supplied, but the word wouldn’t come out of his mouth.
“Shall we accompany you to the hospital, my darling?” Moira asked, grimacing, clearly regretting making the offer even as she did so.
“Nope,” Alexis said, shooing them back into their room. “No need for that. We’ll call you as soon as we know something,” she said firmly. When Alexis used that voice, people often had a hard time arguing, and their parents were no exception this time.
David tied his shoes awkwardly, the bows kind of a mess. Patrick had made fun of him one time about the precise way he tied his shoes. Patrick, who was lying in a hospital bed, injured, alone…
“Come on, David,” Alexis said, taking his arm firmly but kindly. “Have you got your wallet and phone?” He patted his pockets and nodded. “Okay, let’s go.”
It was normally a forty minute drive to Elmdale, lots of time for David to imagine every possible horrible scenario. Maybe Patrick was in a coma, and would wake up having forgotten who David was, or even that he liked men. Maybe he would be paralyzed. Maybe his face would be horribly scarred. David would love him anyway, he thought, even if he’d been disfigured. All that mattered was that he came through this alive.
“I’m sure he’s okay, David,” Alexis said as if she could hear what was going on inside his head. She needed to stop doing that. It was creepy.
“You don’t know that.”
“His car is boring and probably has airbags and, like, crumple zones or whatever,” she said. “I bet he’s just got a little bonk on the head. The tests are probably just a precaution.”
He sighed, playing out that much more comforting fantasy in his head instead of his dark ones. Patrick would just stroll out of an examining room and David would hug him tight and take him home and everything would be fine.
They arrived at the hospital in only thirty-two minutes, thanks to Alexis’s speedy driving.
He identified himself at the front desk, and the receptionist or whatever she was told him to wait. David inhaled a breath, ready to argue, but Alexis was thanking the woman and dragging him over to the rows of chairs before he could get another word out. His sister perched on one of the plastic chairs and pulled out her phone while David paced back and forth in front of her. Now that they were here, he really just wanted to tear the place apart until he could see Patrick for himself. And hold his hand; he was sure that whatever had happened, Patrick would feel better if David could hold his hand.
“David Rose?” A woman in a white coat stood next to the door that led to the rest of the hospital. He rushed over.
“I’m David Rose,” he said, breathless.
“You’re Patrick Brewer’s…” She consulted the chart she was holding.
“Partner. Can you please tell me what happened? Is he okay?” He could sense Alexis behind him, hovering.
“Well, he got banged up pretty good. Compound fracture of the radius and fracture of the ulna, two cracked ribs, and a concussion. The police said a truck ran a stoplight and hit his car broadside.”
David thought it was wildly inappropriate that she would expect him to remember what bones were named at a time like this. “The radius is…?”
She gestured to her forearm. “Arm bones. As is often the case with this sort of impact injury, both bones in the forearm were broken.”
Wincing, David asked, “Can I see him, please?”
“Not yet; he was taken into surgery a little while ago to stabilize the arm. It has to be operated on right away because there’s a risk of infection when the bone is exposed.”
The next thing David was aware of was Alexis guiding him down into a chair. “Okay, just lean over and put your head between your knees,” she said while David tried to figure out why his vision was narrowing. He felt sweaty. Alexis disappeared for a minute, but he could hear her voice, off to the left somewhere. Also that doctor, the one who said Patrick’s arm was…
David fought the urge to throw up. It would be embarrassing to hurl all over the floor in the waiting room of Elmdale Hospital.
Finally Alexis was back. “Are you gonna pass out?”
“No. I don’t think so.” He lifted his head. “What did she say after the thing about his…”
“Bone sticking out?” Alexis asked unhelpfully. David put his head in his hands. “That they did a CT scan prior to surgery and that he was alert but concussed. You’ll be able to see him once he wakes up from the anesthesia. And they’ll have a better idea tomorrow how long he’ll need to be in the hospital.” She rubbed his back. “Do you want me to get you a cup of tea?”
David nodded. “I can’t believe this happened. Just like that.”
“Yeah, I’d like to get my hands on the driver of that truck,” Alexis said fiercely, and David couldn’t help but agree. He wasn’t a violent person, as a rule, but he’d make an exception just this once. Or he’d let Alexis have at him.
“He’s gonna be okay, though, right?” David asked, not liking the pleading edge in his voice.
Alexis was still rubbing his back, and she pressed her cheek against his arm for a second. “He’s gonna be okay, David.”
He startled, a thought occurring to him suddenly, and he fumbled for his phone. “I need to call his parents.”
“You have his parents’ phone number?” Alexis asked with a grin.
“Yeah,” he said. “I mean, I’ve never called them, but I was starting to think about…” He sighed. He hadn’t wanted to tell Alexis about this until much closer to the event. “Patrick’s birthday is coming up in a few months and I was thinking about inviting his parents to a surprise party,” he said as he pulled out his phone.
“David, that’s so cute,” she said with a pout.
“So I managed to use Patrick’s thumbprint to unlock his phone when he was dead asleep one night and I put their numbers into my phone in preparation for inviting them,” he said as he scrolled through his contacts. “Please don’t tell Mom and Dad; they can’t keep a secret,” he said as he pressed the button to call Marcy Brewer.
He’d only spoken to Patrick’s mother a couple of times, when she’d called the store after being unable to reach Patrick on his mobile phone. He’d handed the phone over to Patrick quickly after some brief pleasantries, but he’d gotten the impression of a friendly woman. Just the sort of person he’d expect to have raised Patrick Brewer.
“Hello,” came the maternal voice down the phone line as Alexis stood up, flopping her wrists towards her mouth. When he shook his head in confusion at her, she stuck out her pinky, miming sipping, before walking away. Right, she was going to get tea.
“Hi, Mrs. Brewer, this is David Rose calling.”
“Oh, David! How are you?”
“Um, well, not great. I’m sorry to have to call you like this, and let me start by saying Patrick is going to be fine…”
“Oh, dear. This is like the phone calls I used to get from his coaches,” she said, sounding surprisingly calm. “What happened?”
“He was in a car accident this afternoon and he’s in the hospital.” David felt tears pressing behind his eyes, and he ruthlessly swallowed them down. “I haven’t been able to see him yet, but they said his arm is broken. Also some ribs.” He decided to stop there, if for no other reason than he didn’t think he could go into more detail without needing to put his head between his knees again.
“Oh, my sweet Patrick,” Marcy gasped, sounding much less calm. “Why haven’t you been able to see him?”
“They’re… um… operating on his arm.” He braced his elbows on his knees. “It was a bad fracture.”
“Okay,” she said, back to sounding calm. “Clint and I will come there. We’ll be there in the morning.”
David wasn’t sure exactly where the Brewers lived, but he thought it was pretty far, and it sounded like she was implying that they would drive all night. “Maybe you should get some rest and leave in the morning?”
“As if I’d be able to sleep tonight, worrying about my boy,” she said. “He’s all alone there,” she said.
Frowning, David said, “I’ll be here. And my sister Alexis is here.” He wondered why she’d put it that way. Surely she didn’t think David would leave the hospital tonight, did she?
“That’s very sweet of you, David,” Marcy said. “I’ll let you know when we get into town, okay?”
“Yeah, okay,” David said, off-kilter from the conversation. His eyes fixed on a stack of pamphlets on the table next to him, where a smiling woman was entirely too happy about routine colonoscopies. “It’s Elmdale Hospital,” he told Marcy.
“Thanks, David. If you see Patrick tonight, please let him know we’re on our way.”
When a nurse finally came to tell them that Patrick was out of recovery, Alexis had fallen asleep across his lap and David had read the entire pamphlet about colonoscopies (and all of the other pamphlets within reach) front to back. He shook Alexis awake and bolted up from the uncomfortable chair, not looking back to see if Alexis was following.
The first thing he noticed were the cuts on Patrick’s face. They weren’t large; probably not worth mentioning in the context of his other injuries. Just tiny knicks in his forehead and left cheek from bits of glass, David assumed. But tears still welled up in David’s eyes when he saw those angry little cuts. Patrick looked like he was sleeping, his arm bandaged and immobilized within a plastic splint contraption.
“Why don’t they put a cast on his arm?” Alexis asked as David went to sit next to the bed.
The nurse who was fiddling with one of the machines in the room looked up. “They will once they’ve made certain there’s no infection.”
Patrick opened his eyes and his face cracked into a sloppy smile. “It’s David!” he slurred, then he turned to the nurse. “David is my very handsome boyfriend who’s very handsome. See, I told you.”
Alexis snorted, covering her mouth, her eyes dancing with mirth.
“What’s wrong with him?” David asked.
The nurse smiled. “He just came out from under general anesthesia. He’s been talking about you a lot.”
“Flying pretty high, Patrick?” Alexis asked with a smirk. She pulled out her phone and held it up.
“Put that away,” David snapped.
Patrick squinted at her like he couldn’t quite focus on someone that far away. “Hi, Alexis,” he said. “Thanks for coming to visit me in the hospital.” Then his head swung around to David again. “I love you. I’m glad you’re here.”
“I’m glad I’m here too,” David said around a lump in his throat. “I was worried about you.”
Patrick’s smile fell. “David?”
“Yes, honey?”
“I think I’m gonna puke.”
Chapter 2
#schitt's creek#david x patrick#schitt's creek ff#schitt's creek fic#david x patrick fic#david x patrick ff#my fic
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The Serpent’s Secret Lover
Alright y’all! Here it is!!! This is the first smut I’ve posted on this page so let me know what you think!
Summary: The Northside Princess and the Serpent prince have a small secret: they’ve been dating for months. When the prince’s insecurities get the best of him, can his princess ease his worries?
Warnings: SMUT, lightly mentioned daddy kink (LIGHTLY like barley there), oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, pet names, LOTS OF FLUFF and soft Sweets!!
“Do you know what time you’ll be back, hun?” You hear your mom’s voice as you descended down the stairs. “I want to know if I’m setting your place for dinner or not.”
“Uh… I’m not sure. I might sleep over Betty’s tonight after we get back from the movie but I’ll keep you updated,” the lie comes easily to you as you have told it so many times before. It was always Betty or Veronica’s house because you knew your mom wouldn’t call to check up on you while you were there. She trusted you so much that you almost felt bad for lying to her so much but you knew that if she knew where you were actually going, you would never be allowed to visit, let alone spend the night.
“Sounds good! Want a ride to the theatre? Or are you meeting at Pop’s?”
“Pop’s probably. But don’t worry about it, I can walk! I’ll text you when I know my plans,” with some quick goodbyes you were out the door and headed in the direction for Pop’s. Passing your neighbors houses, waving to them and asking how they were doing as they watered their plants at sundown or walked their dogs around the neighborhood. A few streets down you could guess that Betty and Archie were in their homes probably doing homework or working on the next town mystery and you’re sure that if you asked they would be down to go see a movie or grab a shake at Pop’s and if they did then you wouldn’t have to lie and you could cancel your original plans. Your phone dings and lights up with a text message as your guilty conscious threatens to take hold.
From: Daddy Sweets 😘🍆 💦
Omw baby
See you in 10
You roll your eyes at the newest name change that Sweet Pea gave to himself in your phone. Every time that you spend the night, you wake up the next morning and there’s a new contact name and a new contact picture that gets more explicit every week. You type a quick reply and hope that he is already on his motorcycle and not able to read it because you couldn’t handle the embarrassment that would come with it.
To: Daddy Sweets 😘🍆 💦
Okay, daddy 😘 Can’t wait!!
Much to your chagrin, he answers almost immediately that you know he’s shocked and probably a little worked up.
From: Daddy Sweets 😘🍆 💦
oh baby I’m gonna rock your fucking world
You quickly put your phone in the pocket of your cardigan and duck your head to hide the blush on your cheeks and neck from the rest of your neighbors on your street but your mind is already swimming with the possibilities of what your boyfriend might do to you when he gets you home and with those thoughts you put your headphones in and pick up your pace towards Pop’s.
---
When you see the neon sign of Pop’s approaching you slow your pace until you’re stopped just around the corner. You can’t risk going in because any number of your friends or neighbors or general acquaintances could be in there and if they saw you then they might see who you leave with and who knows who they might tell and who those people would then tell and it was all too big of a risk. The once a week that you slept over Sweet’s house, you met at the corner by Pop’s where he’d pick you up on his motorcycle and drive away as quickly as possible to Sunnyside Trailer Park.
You could hear the faint rumble of a motorcycle over your headphones and you quickly pulled them out of your ears and into your pocket with your phone. What you failed to notice was the car pulling up on the other side of the street that contained your friends.
Betty, Archie, Veronica, and Jughead all drove up together in Betty’s mom’s car and noticed you at the same time. Right as they were about to roll the windows down and ask if you wanted to join them at Pop’s they saw a motorcycle pull up next to you and you walk closer to it. When the driver took off their helmet to hand it to you there were audible gasps from the friends in the car.
“Is Sweet Pea kidnapping Y/N?” Betty was the first one to speak up and although she was partially joking, she had no idea what to make of the scene unfolding in front of them.
As you grasped the helmet from Sweets, he leaned down ever so smoothly and you knew what he was asking for. Very quickly you rose up your toes to give him a chaste kiss on the lips before putting his helmet on and hopping on the back of the bike before securely wrapping your arms around his waist. And with that, he drove off.
The four friends gaped as they watched the two of you speed off down the street in the direction of the Southside. Veronica was the first one to say anything.
“Are they… a thing? Like did they just kiss or am I hallucinating?” Her tone was riddled with confusion and the faces of the other three had the same feeling etched across them.
“No way! The two of them are polar opposites. I didn’t think they could be within the same room with each other without the forces of good and evil using the space between them as a battlefield for their unholy war. Besides, I see Sweet Pea on a daily basis. He’s never said anything about anyone. Why would they hide it?” Jughead’s tone sounded sure but his facial expressions said otherwise. He hoped that he knew his own men well enough that he’d be able to tell when one of them was shacking up with someone so far out of their realm of possibility but maybe he was wrong.
“Probably for this exact reason! You’re right, Jug, they are two complete opposite ends of the spectrum and we have no idea what the true nature of their relationship is but here we are, judging them,” Veronica was surprised to find herself to be the one speaking words of calmness into the air but she was sure that there was something about the whole situation that these four didn’t know. “Maybe they’re friends? Or she’s his tutor for a class they share?” She knew these answers were wrong but she didn’t want to degrade her friend by automatically assuming she was the booty call of some Serpent but she also wasn’t sure she was ready to admit that they might be something more...romantic.
“Tutors don’t kiss. Friends don’t kiss,” Archie finally offered his two cents.
“Well, there’s nothing we can do to figure it out right now,” Betty offered. “Why don’t we continue with our regularly scheduled programming of getting some dinner and try not to think about what our friend might be doing right now.”
With some nods from the rest of the group, the four got out of their car and walked into Pop’s trying to shake away their confusion. But they all knew that they needed to know the truth about what was really going on with the Northside Princess and the Serpent Prince.
----
Sweet Pea cut the engine to the bike as it stopped in front of his home and put his foot out to keep balance. Once he was safely off the bike he held out his hand and elbow for you to grab and you clambered off the motorcycle as gracefully as you could. You were pretty sure that no matter how many times you had gotten on and off this bke that you would never be fully comfortable.
“You’re going to have to get used to it eventually, you know. I don’t plan on getting a car anytime soon,” the smirk on Sweet Pea’s face was enough to make you roll your eyes and hit him playfully on the chest.
“Of course I had to pick the biker. I couldn’t go for someone with four wheels and a heater! I really should reevaluate my priorities.”
“Oh, yeah? And what are you prioritizing by being with me, huh?”
“Oh.. ya know,” you had started this interaction with the utmost confidence but as you glanced over your boyfriend's god-like physique and chiseled face you could not, for the life of you, remember what you were trying to say.
“I don’t actually, princess. Enlighten me. Is it your undeniable love for me? Maybe it's the chance to try something new and exciting? Or maybe,” he leaned down close to whisper into your ear, “it’s because you know I can fuck you until I have you cumming around my cock over and over and no other person could, huh? Is that it, princess?” His voice was hoarse as he pressed his body against yours and you felt the warmth of him through your clothes. Your head was reeling and you felt drunk off lust that it almost made you forget you were standing outside in front of the trailer where anyone could see you. You almost didn’t notice that he subtly asked if you were in love with him. Almost.
“Sweets, we’re outside. People. Could get caught,” you were basically panting and he was drinking up every single second of it, knowing how much of an effect he had on your body.
“Does that bother you, doll? Do you not want people to see how wet I can make you with just my words? Afraid one of your Northside friends are going to find their way over to the wrong side of the tracks and see their princess trapped in the hands of some horny Serpent?” His words were riddled with undertones of cockiness and sex and he was looking at you like you were the only thing that existed in this world.
Before you could muster up the strength or willpower to do anything, Sweets had picked up your hand from your side and used it to pull you towards the door of his trailer and inside of it.
“Eventually, you’re going to let me tell your friends about us and then I can do what I want with you, where I want and whenever I want. My shy, shy girl, so scared of how the big, bad biker makes you feel.”
Something was different about this interaction. Out of all the times he had made you feel this level of desire or brought you to this trailer, he was sounding slightly… defensive? You had tried to ignore it when he was talking to you outside but know, even though he was hiding it through his heightened levels of lust for you, you could hear it ever-present in his words. Insecurity.
The second the word entered your mind, it was gone as Sweet Pea had started placing sloppy kisses on your neck and collarbone making you let out a moan and fling your hands to tangle into his hair. As your hands moved down from his hair to the collar of his leather jacket to his chest, you could feel his heart thumping forcefully as his breathing was more shallow and rushed. He had one of his hands on your stomach pushed up under your shirt and one pressed against the back of your neck, holding you to him.
“Take off your clothes,” this was not a question. It was a demand. Sweet Pea was never one to take things slow, normally. But with you he was the most patient and tender-hearted. He knew how much it meant to you to make your time together mean something so he always made it as romantic as he knew how to. Lewd words and rough sex was a part of that but this commanding tone was new and different. And you liked it. The part of your brain not clouded by your want for him wondered if this demanding demeanor had anything to do with the potential insecurities you had begun to uncover earlier but you didn’t have too much time to think about it before he started speaking again.
“Take. Off. Your. Clothes. Don’t make me repeat myself, little one.”
Your hands fumbled with the bottom of your shirt as you took it off after disrobing of your cardigan in a rush. When you look back towards Sweet Pea, his jacket was already off and he was ripping his flannel vest off his body and beginning to fumble with his belt. He looked at you with a hungry expressions, taking in the sight of you in your bra and jeans and he was positive he could lose it right then and there. He took another step closer to you and dropped to his knees. A shocked gasp left your mouth from seeing him in such a vulnerable position and you could feel your nerves setting aflame. The way he looked up at you as he palmed your thighs with his hands made you feel so vulnerable and so empowered all at once. Out there, he was the big, bad biker but here… here he was yours. He would do anything you asked of him. You both knew it and neither of you cared.
Sweet Pea’s hands tugged at the top of your jeans, pulling them to your ankles. Before you could kick them off he had his head in between your thighs, placing light kisses to your inner thighs, pelvic bone, and outer lips. Your hands went back to his hair where they tugged and lightly scratched at his scalp in need. He looked up at you through his lashes as he continued peppering you with kisses almost as if to say “Keep trying to rush me, watch what happens.”
You were attempting to keep your cool and not try to rush him through his process but when you looked down and saw him reach a hand down to press against the growing bulge in his boxers, you snapped. Pushing his head away from your thighs and kicking off your jeans completely, you knelt on the ground in front of him. Immediately, you moved your hand down to his boxers and began to rub his erection through them. Sweet Pea let out a whine of needy pleasure at the feeling and you kept doing it in hopes that he would keep making those noises. His head went limp as he laid it on your shoulder to let you keep touching him. He had never wanted anything more than to feel your hands on him like this. For a minute he allowed himself to forget that he was supposed to be in control of this situation. He let his hips rut against your hand and he didn’t try to stop the moans and desperate whines that came from deep within his being. It wasn’t until he felt a familiar pressure building up in his lower abdomen that he thought he definitely needed to stop you right now. He was going to make you his tonight, in a way he never had before. And he could not do that if you had him coming in his boxers five minutes in.
“Stop. Now,” he tried so hard to make it sound commanding but it was a plea. A whiny, unassertive beg. The need in his voice went straight to your core and made your hands shake but you didn’t stop. “Please…” it was barely a breath and you knew that he must be teetering on the edge of his orgasm if he was this desperate. Just when Sweets thought he couldn’t possibly contain himself any longer he grabbed your wrist and yanked it up towards him.
“I said stop! Are you disobeying me?” Now it is your turn to be the whiny one. You let out a small squeak at his outburst and looked anywhere but his eyes. The throbbing vein in his neck. The contracting of his abdominal muscles as he still fought to hold off his orgasm even though you were no longer touching him. You were 100% sure that if you touched him even slightly right now or even said something a little dirty, he would lose it. But he was already back in control and you couldn’t risk him punishing you for making him cum so soon.
“Answer me, little one. Were you disobeying me and trying to make me cum?”
“...Yes,” your voice had never been so soft. “I’m sorry.”
“You will be.”
And with that he placed one hand behind your knees and pulled them out from under you and put the other hand in the middle of your back as he used his body to lay you flat on the floor. A gentle but still controlling movement. He stood up to pull his boxers off and you watched in awe as this gorgeous man stood towering above you, fully nude. God, he was beautiful in the truest sense of the world. He noticed your staring and allowed himself a moment to feel bashful under your intense stare. He wasn’t dumb. He knew that he was attractive. He knew that there were dozens of girls who talk about his looks in the hallways at school but none of that mattered. Knowing that you thought he was worth your time, made him feel like a king. Like a god.
Sweet Pea kneeled back down besides you and took in the sight of you before him. Your back was slightly arched as you awaited his touch. Your feet were tapping against the air in anticipation, too. He loved knowing that it was him who did this to you. Him, the serpent prince from the wrong side of town getting to take part in the deflowering of the Northside princess over and over again. What an honor, he thought to himself.
To keep you from waiting any longer, Sweet Pea placed his hands on your covered breasts and trailed them down your stomach until he was laid out on top of you, face hovering above your clothed core as you lifted your head to look at him. This time, he didn’t tease you with kisses over your underwear. Instead, he yanked them off and lowered his head against you. Before you could think to gasp, his fingers were spreading your lips apart as his tongue found its way to your clit. Your hands were clenching and unclenching at your sides and he took his free hand to place one of yours on the top of his head, hoping that you would get the message. As your second hand followed your first, Sweet’s ministrations continued. He was lapping at your clit in small circles and then alternating to sucking it lightly, then harshly. When your hands started to clench tighter onto his hair, he took his free hand and slid his middle finger up and down your slit a few times before partially inserting it into you. He started slow, as always, and pumped half his finger in and out of you for a while until you were comfortable enough for him to fully insert it, the whole time making sure to lick your clit the way he knew you liked it.
“How you feeling, baby, huh? You like that?” He knew you did. But hearing you say it made him feel validated and worthy. He would do whatever you needed him to do if it meant you’d let him make you feel good.
“Uh-huh… so goooood,” complete sentences were not your friend and your voice spiked higher on the last word as new levels of pleasure flooded you.
“What do you think baby? Should I make you cum like this?” You wanted to say yes, obviously. The things this boy could do with his tongue… wow. But you wanted him. More of him.
“No- ahh- no… I want you, Sweets...inside me,” it was the best you could do with the given circumstances but it was good enough to make Sweet Pea growl against you. He loved hearing anything sexual come out of your mouth, especially when it sounded so wrecked and needy.
“Yeah? Think you deserve that after what you pulled earlier? Think you deserve my cock after trying to make me cum in my boxers earlier?”
“Yess, please!! Please, please, please,” you begged.
Sweet Pea couldn’t tease you, or himself, any longer. Hearing the way you begged for him and feeling how hard he already was pressing against your legs, he needed to feel you wrapped around him just as much as you needed him inside of you. He crawled his way up your body and placed one hand on the floor beside your head to steady himself and used the other one to line himself up with your entrance. He dragged the tip of his cock up and down your slit making you wriggle your body against him and once he was satisfied with how worked up you both were, he pushed himself inside of you halfway and stilled. He kept one hand to steady himself and brought the other one up to your face to cradle it.
“How’s that, princess? You like the feeling of my cock filling you up? What is this, five times now? And you feel better and better every time,” he meant that. He knew you needed to hear something a little more calming as your body still tried to get used to the feeling of having something this big, or anything for that matter, inside of it. No matter how badly he wanted to thrust into you and pound you until you were both dizzy, he knew you needed time to adjust. He stilled for a few moments before drawing himself out and pushing back in half way. When he felt the clenching of your muscles ease, he slowly slid himself all the way in and let out a moan he’d been holding since he first pushed into you.
Although it didn’t hurt nearly as much as the first time, it still was slightly uncomfortable for the first few minutes and you appreciated how gentle and patient he actually was with you. You weren't stupid. You saw the strain in his face as he held himself back from wrecking you and you saw how his abs clenched as he fought the urge to release all of his pent up lust and aggression but he never let it take over him. He kept control and you loved that.
When he finally picked up the pace a little bit, he dropped himself down onto his elbows and lowered his head onto your shoulders as he had done earlier. He let out muffled grunts and moans as he pushed himself in and out of you and you wrapped your arms around him to pull him closer to you. Your moans were flowing freely out of your mouth and right into his ear which he used as encouragement. He’d love to have those play in his mind all day, everyday. He began to move faster against you and you could see his muscles begin to strain as he started getting closer to his release. He grabbed one of your arms from around him and pushed your hand down to where your bodied connected.
“Touch yourself. Rub your clit for me, baby,” it was gruff and scratchy as it came out of his mouth and you were shocked. That was new. He had never asked you to do anything like that before and you hadn’t thought you’d ever consider something like that. “Please, baby. I’m so close and I need to feel you cum around me. I need it.”
Slowly, you dragged your hand from your hip down to your center and dragged it across your folds. Sweet Peas eyes were glued downwards towards your connected bodies as he watched your shaky hand finds its way to your clit. When you made contact, he felt you walls flutter around him and he lowered his head slightly and let out a throaty whine, as did you.
“That’s it baby, just like that… oh god, yeah. I can feel you tightening around me. You getting close, princess? Huh?” He was panting now, rutting against you as fast as he could manage, taking pleasure in knowing how exciting this all was for you. He knew the second you started contracting around him that he was gone but he held it off as long as he could to get you there.
“Sweets, ah! I think I’m close,” your voice was higher-pitched now as you neared your orgasm.
“You know what it feels like, baby. I’ve given you enough of them. You think or you know?” How he was managing to form complete thoughts and sentences was beyond him. Some rational part of his brain was functioning just enough to make sure you were okay while the primal part of his brain worked to get you both off.
“I know..oh my.. Sweet’s I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna- ahh!”
“Yes, baby, just like that. Oh god, I can feel you about to. Cum for me, princess, you’re doing so good.”
He felt it before you did. He felt your walls tighten up and heard your breath hitch. He watched your hand ball into a fist and all of your muscles contract. Then he heard the moan. That telltale moan of a job well-done. When you clamped down around him, his resolve was gone and he felt himself break. He lowered his head and moaned against you as he thrusted into you sloppily and slower, he felt himself pulsing inside of you, as you continued contracting against him.
“I love you,” he moaned.
It was literally explosive. The level of pleasure that came with the experiences he gave you were almost indescribable. You could live in that moment over and over. He knew exactly when to slow down, what to say, how to kiss to make you writhe beneath him. You heard him moaning into your neck and thought that there was no sound more beautiful than the sound of Sweet Pea moaning. Until you heard the words. They were rushed out and surrounded in the pants and groans of ecstasy but you heard them. You heard the hitch in his throat when he realized what he had done and you heard the pants of his breath as he continued to pulse inside of you.
It took a few minutes for the two of you to catch your breath and recollect your brains into those of functional human beings again. When you finally did, Sweet Pea used whatever strength he had left to push himself off of you and rolled over to lay down on the floor next to you. He reached up to the end table next to the couch where he kept a box of tissues and flung them down to the ground. As he took some out to clean you up, you looked over at him and opened your mouth to say something.
“Before you say anything, yes I meant it. Did I want to say it for the first time while rawing you on the floor of my trailer? No. But it happened and I meant it. You don’t need to say it back, and I won’t hold it against you if you don’t but I need you to know,” he maintained eye contact the whole time showing that there was no embarrassment in his words. He was proud to love you.
“How long have you known?” That was all you could manage to get out.
“A while. I didn’t know what the feeling was, just that I felt it. I think about you all the time. Every day when we’re separated I think about how much longer until I can see you again. I hear people talk about you in school and I think about how lucky I am that I’m the one you chose to be with. The first time you let me make love to you, I saw this look in your eye and I swear that I could’ve fucking cried. You trusted me not to hurt you and to take care of you during your first time and I had never been trusted like that before. Never been cared for like that before.”
“And all that earlier? About getting me to let you tell my friends about us? And about trying new and exciting things?”
“You know me, princess. I don’t do feelings. I don't do love or patience or beauty. Or I didn’t. Every morning I wake up afraid that you being with me is a phase and that you’re going to realize how much better you are than this. Than me. I guess I’m… insecure? I don’t know. All I know is that when I hear those guys ask you out or talk about you in the locker room, I get angry. Like red hot angry because I think that they make way more sense for you. They come from the right side of town, have the right last names, make the right amount of money. And I don’t and I never will,” it was dark in the room but you were sure that if you rolled over to look at his face, you would see tears streaming down it. You heard some shuffling around from next you and when you finally turned your face to look at him he was sitting up next to you.
You sat up with him and put your arms around him in a hug. You stayed like that for a few minutes just listening to the sound of his heartbeat. When you finally pulled back you saw him looking down at you.
“Please say something,” he asked.
“Sweets, I don’t ever want you to feel like that. Those guys are not any better than you because of their last names, or their money, or what side of town their house is on. You are the man I chose. At the end of the day, that is the best decision I have ever made. You make me happier than I ever thought possible. Everyone calls me the princess but you are the only person who has ever made me feel like one. I love you, Sweet Pea. So much,” it was as if a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders when the words flowed out of your mouth. If he thought your moans were the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard, he was mistaken. He wanted the sound of you saying you loved him as his ringtone, alarm clock, favorite song, and more.
“You do?”
“Yes, of course I do.”
He grabbed your face with his hands and brought your lips to his. The way he touched you made you feel like an expensive antique that he was too afraid to break. So gentle and filled with admiration.
“If it's okay with you, can we just wait a little while longer to tell everyone? I know you want to but I’m just not ready for all the questions yet. I mean it's been a few months but I just need some more time,” you asked. It wasn’t that you wouldn't love to put an official “claim” on Sweets or that you weren't proud to be his but you knew what would happen once people found out. There would be stares and silent judgments and questions you couldn’t answer or answers you weren’t ready to divulge yet.
“Yes, baby. We can wait as long as you need. But I can’t promise that I won’t ‘bump into you’ more often now,” the two of you chuckled as he air quoted the phrase. “You just told me you love me, the damn on holding back affection is slowly breaking down.”
“Deal. Just try not to make it too obvious. The last thing either of us need is our meddling friends, especially your King and Veronica, poking around and asking questions. Trust me, you do not want to wrath of Veronica Lodge hovering over you just yet,” Sweets made a mock scared face as you said the words and pulled you closer to him. “I guess I should tell my mom that I’m spending the night at Betty’s.”
“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea. I got a lot more to do to you tonight. I mean with you…”
“Did you mean that though?” You asked.
“No, no I didn’t,” the smirk made its way back to his face as he pulled you onto his lap and into another searing kiss.
#sweet pea#sweet pea imagine#sweet pea smut#sweet pea x reader#riverdale#riverdale imagine#riverdale imagines#riverdale smut#archie andrews#betty cooper#veronica lodge#jughead jones
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Can you please write something with Robbe's reaction to Sander's room with them eventually ending up in a makeout. // can you write about today’s post? like, their way until those locks, who gave the idea, etc // you already write sander being jealous of noor, could you write now robbe being jealous of britt // would you like to write robbe meeting sanders mum?? and also him seeing Sanders bedroom for the first time.
It was a way to get their minds off what was going to happen later. They’re meeting the parents already. It doesn’t feel rushed, Robbe is sure of how much he loves Sander, but it’s a big step. He never met anyone’s parents before.
And Robbe knows they’ll probably compare him to Britt, it’s only natural. He’s a little bit hungover, but he drank a lot of water when he woke up thinking about this special lunch already and he wasn’t expecting any more gifts, but then Sander asked him to close his eyes.
Sometimes, Sander wakes up way too early. He had already left and returned to the flat, waking Robbe up with soft, wet kisses all the way from his back to his face. Sander had bought the lock and asked them to go to the bridge before going back to his place. It was a small and cheesy gesture, but it distracted Robbe enough.
“You write it on one side and I’ll do the other.” Sander takes their lock from his inside pocket, giving it to Robbe as he searches for the pen. Robbe is a little cold, he’s definitely underdressed, but it’s fine, he hugs Sander’s arm and stays as close as he can to him to keep himself warm while he waits.
There are a bunch of things he can write, but he goes with his first thought. Whatever putting a lock on a bridge might do to them or their relationship, Robbe just wants the bridge - or whoever is reading their message - to be sure that his main goal is to stay with Sander forever.
It’s hard writing on a lock when you’re cold, the sharpie tip is a little too big and the lock not big enough. R & S, and he draws the heart around it, showing it to Sander.
“Your turn.” Robbe gives him a quick kiss on his lips as Sander grabs the pen and the lock, smiling.
In every universe.
Sander struggles even more than Robbe, there’s a crease in between his eyebrows as he writes, but he also writes a lot more and Robbe can’t help how his heart grows inside his chest.
It was a random conversation they had a long time ago, Robbe was just sharing a piece of those late-night thoughts he had and never shared with anyone and now it’s part of their story, a way to make life seem a little less scary during the bad nights or days.
“You want to do it?” He asks and Robbe squeezes Sander’s arm in between his arms.
“No, we have to do it together. You’ll hold it and I’ll lock it.” Sander kisses his forehead before walking closer to the rail, holding Robbe’s hand instead of letting him hug his arm, taking a few steps sideways to find the perfect spot.
They sit down, take some photos and finally put their lock in the tiny space they found that even has a nice view.
-
“We’ll be fine, ok? And if you feel uncomfortable or if you just wanna leave, just tell me and we’ll go.” Robbe pulls Sander down by his jacket, nodding his head.
“Just...” He kisses Sander instead of trying to explain how his brain works, putting both hands very tightly around his neck, giving his boyfriend a long, lingering kiss just to make sure that they still fell like the best kind of fireworks and excitement. There’s just something about the way they kiss and how Robbe feels it in every inch of his body.
“Come,” Sander purrs, touching Robbe’s lips again when he talks “let’s get this over with.”
-
Maybe Sander’s problem is that he can’t find one thing that he doesn’t like about Robbe. There’s one, but he knows Robbe didn’t mean those words, and besides that one second buried in the past, Sander thinks Robbe is perfect.
That’s one of the reasons why he agreed with bringing Robbe to meet his overprotective parents so soon, just because he needs them to see just how perfect this boy is.
Robbe was a nervous wreck just minutes ago, constantly pulling Sander back, keeping them away from the door, trying to postpone their lunch, distracting Sander with hot kisses and little whines.
And now that they’re inside, he’s acting like the softest, kindest, cutest baby ever.
He talks so softly, always with a shy smile, and he’s almost whispering, dealing so well when Sander’s mom constantly putting Britt in the middle of any subject by accident. She says sorry a million times and Robbe just shrugs and it’s so cute. He’s very patient and even offers himself to set the table for them, but Sander just needs a moment alone with him.
So when Robbe gives him the plates to put on the table, he obeys, but holds Robbe’s hand, saying to his mom that they’ll be right back, Sander just wants him to see his bedroom.
Sander wasn’t home for a few days and he ignores when his mom asks him to wait, getting inside his bedroom and closing the door behind Robbe, pushing him against it.
“What-are you doing? Your mom is waiting for us...” Robbe doesn’t finish his sentence, putting his head to one side, letting Sander lick his neck slowly on the other side while opening his belt and unzipping Robbe’s pants in one quick movement.
“Food is not ready yet...” Sander pushes Robbe’s jacket down to the floor, smiling against his cheek. “We have time.”
His boyfriend has a cute smile on his lips that slowly goes away when he looks over Sander’s shoulder. Sander stops, and he can see Robbe’s eyes going from one place to the next, walking to the side to go explore whatever he’s seeing.
Sander watches as Robbe walks slowly, looking around carefully, his fingertips touching his open drawers and he stops at his table, grabbing the one thing Sander didn’t want him to see.
Britt gave him a big frame with a collage of their photos together, including the photos they took the night he cheated on Robbe with her, Robbe makes sure to carefully touch every photo, his thumb taking more time on the picture of Britt using Sander’s jacket.
“She gave me this and I didn’t have time to throw it away.” Sander takes the frame away from Robbe’s hands, putting it behind himself, away from Robbe’s eyes.
“You don’t have to throw it away. There are some of her clothes in your drawers too...” Robbe points at the dresser that is behind Sander, where his tv stands, right in front of his bed but Sander doesn’t look back to check the information. Robbe’s eyes get so small and sad when he’s not feeling too good, you can instantly tell when he’s not happy.
His mom probably made this mess while she was looking for any clues of where he was days ago, opening every drawer, putting all his notebooks on his table. Sander is sure she didn’t mean to let everything that belongs to Britt in plain sight, but he hates that Robbe saw it anyway.
“I want to. There’s no point in having this here.” The frame makes a loud noise when it hits the floor, but Sander doesn’t care, using his hand for better things, gently pulling Robbe closer by his waist, going back to what they were doing a minute ago.
Robbe whines and that’s all Sander needs to hear, smiling against Robbe’s lips as he pushes him to sit on the table with his legs wide open so they can press their hips together.
“It’s just the two of us, remember?” Sander thought about making a joke of it, but he knows how insecure Robbe is about Britt and Sander gave him so many reasons for it and he’ll never forgive himself for it, but at least he’ll always be here to remind Robbe that they’re together, there’s nobody else for him.
“Nothing feels as good as this...” He slowly slips his hand under Robbe’s shirt and inside his jeans, grabbing him and gently rubbing his palm against the front of Robbe’s underwear, making him open his mouth and slowly let the air out.
“Your mom...” Robbe manages to whisper, but his short nails dig in the nape of Sander’s neck and he is sure Robbe doesn’t really care about anyone else but Sander.
“She can wait. You can’t.”
Robbe gives him a coy smile as a response, with his flushed cheeks, melting it down to put his head on Sander’s shoulder.
“You’re gonna sleep here with me tonight. I need your smell in my bed.” Sander smiles, nibbling his ear.
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The Elevator Bae x Chapter 3
Chapter THREE
Erik x Black OC (Phoenix)
----------------
A small, tired voice wakes Erik from his sleep. His eyes shoot open and he finds Sydney balled up under his arm as their both sit on her couch.
“Your alarm is going off. Get it!” She says with her eyes closed.
He reaches for his phone sitting on her coffee table. 4:32AM flashes on his screen. He wipes his hands over his face before standing and walking to the door.
“Where are you going?”
Erik turns to Sydney now sitting up with a confused face.
“I gotta go.”
“So you’re just gonna leave? ”
“You were a good time, Syd. I’ll catch up with you later.”
She rolls her eyes, watching him leave out the door. He gets on the empty elevator to go up into his penthouse. He does his usual morning routine— teeth, face, shower and puts on a fresh pair of clothes. Black cargo pants, a dark grey thermal shirt and black boots. He grabs a pre packed duffle bag from his front closet and leaves out. When he gets down into the parking garage, the first thing he notices is Phoenix’s car parked right in front of the elevator doors. He stands there remember how pissed she looked the day before as he drove up to speak to her. Was she having a bad day? Did she see him with Sydney? Erik would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t think he had a thing for her. Sure, she wasn’t the extra type that he’d usually go for, but it was something about her. He shook the thoughts from his head and walked to the back of the parking garage to a blacked out Chevy Tahoe and leaving.
-----
Phoenix staycation was calm and relaxing just as she planned it to be. She was recharged and ready for the busy schedule for the next couple of weeks. She was in her meeting with her manager, Alyssa when Ava texted her.
Ava: Hey, let me know when your meetings done. Let’s get food.
Phoenix texted back a quick ‘Okay’ as she continued to listen to the executive from Atlantic records. The woman went on and on about the deal they were offering her but ultimately, Phoenix decided against it. She was worth more than what they were offering her. She made a promise to herself that she’d never let anyone walk over her in this business. It was rare that a female DJ/Producer was making these kind of waves in the industry. Her work was slowly, but surely becoming the talk amongst big names. She knew that women were always given the short end of the stick but she wouldn’t fall for any of the bullshit. She made it this far on her own and she was sure she could keep up the good work until someone offered her a deal she couldn’t refuse.
“Proud of you. Most people I’ve worked with would’ve taken it just to say they were signed to Atlantic.” Alyssa says.
“I mean… that wasn’t easy.”
“And it won’t get easy. Now is when shit gets real and the work gets a little harder. But the thing about you, you’re tough,”
Phoenix smiles at that. Her mom tells her that all of the time. “Which is why you’re my favorite. You’re not afraid to work hard.”
“I’m glad someone notices.” Phoenix leans over the large table.
“I’m not the only one that notices. Clearly people are watching. I mean… since you’re booked and busy these days.” Alyssa pulls her iPad from her bag, unlocking it like she’s in a rush to find something. “Speaking of busy, the opening of X got moved up to Sunday.”
Phoenix sits up in her chair, looking concerned. “That’s in two days. I don’t have my set playlist done yet.”
“Didn’t I just tell you shit won’t get easier?”
Phoenix rolls her eyes. “I’ll work on it tonight.”
Alyssa stands, “Good! Well, I have a date with my man.”
Phoenix follows her out. They hug and say their good-byes and Phoenix text Ava.
Phoenix: Hey Av, I’m done. Meet me at my place. I’ll order us something.
Ava: K.
Getting in her car, Phoenix puts her music on shuffle. Rihanna x Kanye West - FourFive Seconds comes on and she turns the volume all the way up. Driving into the street, she sings along.
I think I've had enough // I might get a little drunk
I say what's on my mind // I might do a little time
'Cause all of my kindness // Is taken for weakness
Her phone goes off with a message. Alyssa sends her the official flyer of the club opening with her picture on it to post on her IG later. Some excitement fills Phoenix’s chest and she sings louder.
Now I'm FourFiveSeconds from wildin' // And we got three more days 'til Friday
I'm just tryna make it back home by Monday mornin' // I swear I wish somebody would tell me
------
Phoenix is 2 minutes away from her apartment waiting at a red light when her phone goes off with a text.
Ava: I’m here. Your spot is open next to me.
Phoenix: Almost there.
She turns her volume down as Khalid - Talk now plays. She finally makes it to her parking garage, parking next to Ava’s car. She’s still inside waiting for Phoenix. They both get out and Phoenix rushes to hug her friend. It’s been weeks since she’d last seen her.
“I missed you.”
“I missed you too. I thought I was gonna have to book your ass to hang out with you.”
Phoenix waves her hand, dismissing Ava’s joke. “Girl, bye.”
As they wait for the elevator, they discuss what food they want to order. Settling on some Chipotle, Phoenix goes to the DoorDash app to begin their orders.
DING.
When the elevator doors open, they are met with Sydney and one of her friends.
“Hey.” She says waving to Phoenix and Ava.
Hey, girl.” Ava says. Phoenix just waves and smiles.
They step out of the way for Sydney and her friend to walk out and they proceed to walk in. Phoenix hits the button for floor 7. A hand stops the doors and Sydney stands between them.
“Hey, Phoenix. This is random I know but umm,” she scrunches her face in thought, “have you seen Erik around?”
Phoenix is taken back by the random question. “I...haven’t. No.”
Sydney looks as if she wants to say something else.
“Is something wrong?” Phoenix had to ask.
“Well, we hung out a few days ago. He just kinda left and I haven’t heard from him or seen him.”
Thinking back to how she didn’t see him on her elevator rides for awhile after their late night encounter, “I’m sure he’ll pop up.”
“Yeah… thanks.” Sydney walks away, letting the doors close. The moment the doors close and the cabin begins going up, Ava finally breaks her smile.
“So… is Erik is the lucky elevator bae?”
Phoenix was confused. How did she know about this? She only told Coby and Sza. Ava and Coby only met once and they weren’t friends and she know damn well Ava and Sza aren’t kekeing over tea and Oreos.
“What are you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talking about. Your little crush that you’re writing songs with Sza about?”
“What the fuck? How do you even know that?”
The elevators doors start to open. As they step out onto Phoenix’s floor, she stops in the hallway. She needs to know right now how Ava knows this.
“A little birdie told me,” Ava walks around Phoenix, going to her apartment door. “C’mon. Open this damn door.”
“NO! Not until you tell me who told you that.” Phoenix folds her arms and shifts her weight onto her hip. Ava knows that Phoenix really won’t open the door unless she offers up some information.
She releases are long sigh. “Coby.”
“COBY! Why are you talking to Coby?”
Ava throws her head back, trying to hide her smile. “Well,” she starts before looking at Phoenix, “We’ve been hanging out.” She makes quotes with her fingers.
Phoenix’s mouth drops in complete shock.
“He didn’t tell you?”
“Hell no. He didn’t tell me shit!”
“I guess we have a lot to catch up on.”
Phoenix unlocks the door, “We absolutely do.”
When they get inside, they sit on the couch. Phoenix finishes their food order. It’s a 30minute wait. Perfect time to ‘catch up’ and figure out just how much more Ava has been keeping from her.
“30 minutes for the food.”
“Okay. So, tell me about this Erik character.”
“Are you and Coby fucking?”
Ava looks at Phoenix with the straightest face.
“Can we focus on the original conversation first?”
“Are you and Coby fucking?”
“Oh my God. No girl. Not yet, at least. I would like to because that man is fine.”
Phoenix scrunches her up in disgust. Ava sucks her teeth. “Girl, I get you see that nigga as a brother but can’t deny that he’s fine as hell.”
Shrugging her shoulders, “He’s decent.”
“Anyways… tell me about Erik.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
Ava takes note of the changes in Phoenix’s tone. How she was just excited to hear about her love life to now being so flat and dry.
“There’s a nigga that you clearly like and making songs about but he’s fucking big booty Sydney. There’s definitely something to talk about.”
“Well that’s all there is to it then.”
Ava didn’t want Phoenix to go into shut down mode. She didn’t push her. She decided to let the conversation of Erik go… for now. To get her best friend back into high spirits, she knew talking about music would help.
“Okay, well, are you ready for the opening?”
“Not at all. Alyssa just told me today that it’s now on Sunday instead of next week.”
“You got this. Let me see your playlist.”
Phoenix goes to get her laptop from her room. They discuss what she has planned for the club. Their food comes and Ava joins Phoenix on the floor as they eat and she helps her finish her playlist. As the hours go by, they dance to the songs and catch up on all of the things that’s happened over the last few they haven’t hung out.
“Oh shit! I forgot to post the flyer.” Phoenix jumps up for her phone. She posts the pic Alyssa sent to her earlier.
Ava repost it instantly. “Damn girl, you look good as fuck on this flyer.”
“Thanks boo. I need to take some new pictures. My Instagram lame as fuck right now.”
“Let’s take some right now.”
“Girl, it’s like 9 o’clock--” Before Phoenix could finish her sentence, Ava was already walking away to her room. She follows her into her closet. Ava goes through her clothes, pulling out some outfits. She knows Phoenix and her style so pairs some jeans with a Vintage style Aaliyah Tee with clear, strappy heels and an oversized t-shirt for a dress with her Black Doc Martin boots.
“Get dressed and fluff your curls. We got the hallway, your balcony-- Oh, you know what, let’s do leggings instead of jeans so we can see your butt.”
“Ava, no.”
“C’mon girl, stop playing with me. Put this on and sit your thick ass on that kitchen counter. I got you.”
Phoenix laughs but does what her friend says. Ava does a whole photo shoot for Phoenix in her kitchen. They even took some on the balcony, catching some city lights in the background. Phoenix picks a few of her favorites as she goes through them. There were A LOT of to choose from.
“Don’t post any tonight. Wait until tomorrow afternoon.”
Phoenix just gives Ava a look. “Don’t look at me like that. I know Instagram. You’re gonna need as many people seeing it to push your face as the DJ opening up Club X, believe me.”
Phoenix just nods and tells her friend thank you. She didn’t understand the thing with Instagram. Managing her social media wasn’t important to her. She preferred to post her music and go. But she also knew that Ava knew what she’s talking about so she trusted her friends words. They said their goodnights and Ava was off on her way home.
“Text me when you get in.”
-------
Sunday arrives. Phoenix was ready. Her set was amazing, full of all of the Summer’s hits, mixed with some throwbacks. She knew just what a crowd wanted to hear. She spent the early part of the day going through sound checks with the hosts, signing contracts and networking with some of the promoters. The vibe was just her type.
As night fell over the city, she began her preset. Just a mini playlist she created to play as she gets ready herself. This was a big event and Phoenix never disappointed. She had a soft makeup look with wing eyeliner (her go to look), her curls sat in a messy, top knot bun and her nails were painted a glow in the dark neon blue. She wore black, combat pants with a silver sparkle tube top and some black Prada combat heels. She finished her look with silver accessories--rings, layered necklaces and crystal hoop earrings and of course her signature blue Beats headphones.
She steps outside with some of the promoters to take pics. The club is getting packed by the minute with artists, athletes, etc. She makes her way back inside to begin her set. Instantly, when she spins her first song, the crowd screams the lyrics and begins dancing. This night was one to remember. People were loving her. The host brought a few people up to the DJ Booth because they wanted to meet her. It got to the point where the host just shouted her out on the mic so everyone would hear.
“Yo, let’s make some noise for our lit ass DJ, DJ Phoenix Blue.”
The love made Phoenix full of joy. She was so in the zone, she didn’t even notice Ava come in with their other friends, Camren and Mica. They never missed a show or appearance. They turned up with Phoenix until the party was over.
-----
It was almost 4am when Phoenix was finally on her way home. The high of the night still moving through her body. She turns into the parking garage, noticing a black truck turn in behind her. As she parked, she looked out to watch the truck. The driver parked all the way in the back so she could only see a small bit of the headlights. Not sure what was going on, she waited for awhile before getting out. She looked around to see if she could see anyone walking through the cars. She heard a door slam… and then another one. Soon after a figure walks around the cars, going to the elevators. It was Erik. He was carrying a large duffle bag. She thought about just sitting in the car until he got on the elevator until he looked back right at her car. He stood there like he was waiting for her. She realized, he never actually pressed the call button for the elevator. He continued to stand there. She might as well get out. She grabbed her bag with her laptop and got out. Her feet were hurting. With him waiting, she felt a sense of safety so she took this opportunity to get a pair of sandals from her trunk. Erik seemed to be patient as he waited. She finally made her way toward him. He gave a weak smile and she gave one in return. He hits the call button.
He looks her up and down. She pretends not to notice.
“You look sparkly tonight.” he says.
“And you look,” she looks over him, “...tired.”
“Shit, I am.” he drags his hand over his face.
“Sydney was looking for you a few days ago,” He rolls his eyes, uninterested. “She asked if I had seen you because she just her place and disappeared.”
He didn’t offer a response. “Are you two--”
“Nah.” his words coming out louder than he intended. Phoenix didn’t mean to piss him off. The elevator doors opened and she stepped inside, he followed. She stood in the back corner. He scanned his keycard and hit the button to her floor for her. She looked down, playing with her keys. Did he scare her?
“Hey,” she looked up at him. “I ain’t mean to come off like that.”
“You’re good.” she says, looking back down. He watches her.
“Sydney cool, but I’m not feeling her like that.”
“Why?”
“I have my eye on someone else.”
Someone else? Who? What the fuck? Her thoughts went from 0-100. Sydney’s not who he wants so could he be talking about her? She wanted so bad to ask him who but didn’t want to be in this man’s business. “Well I think she likes you, so you should tell her that. Communication is key.”
“Yeah, I will.”
The cabin comes to a stop at Phoenix’s floor. The doors open and she walks out. She looks back at him, “Goodnight, Erik. Get some rest.”
“You too, baby girl. Goodnight.”
Her eyes got big at the pet name. He noticed her reaction and winked at her as the doors were closing between them. She rushed into her apartment, dropping her bag and shoes into the floor. She takes out her phone to text Ava.
Phoenix: BITCH! Come over tomorrow. I need advice. It’s about Erik.
Ava: Oh now your dusty ass wants to tell me about Erik at 5 o’clock in the morning. I’ll be there. Make me some pancakes.
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