#wailing it being the back of a car too. wailing

[dilfsfordinner]

summary- toji fails to prevent a completely preventable messy incident from occurring, involving his son

pairing- husband toji x fem!reader

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“You wanna do it?” Toji grinned, eyebrows raised as he watched little Megumi tug the ratchet from his grasp, waddling towards the raised car, brave enough to face the thing he’d thought a transformer just months prior.

Your car was in dire need of an oil change and being the caring husband that he was, Toji took up his place as mechanic for the day, his worry about typical shop workers taking advantage of women evident in his pleas for you to just stay home and let him do it.

Megumi also took up his place as the incredibly curious and stubborn one year old, his job apparently to make Toji’s work as hard as humanly possible, every babble or questionable crash tearing Toji’s attention away from the task at hand, which is why he stopped trying, and just let his son indulge in his childlike curiosity.

Of course, you would lose your mind if you knew that your baby was around such a large machine, but Toji knew himself and his capabilities, his reflexes practically inhuman, so he didn’t really mind a little thing running around his feet, as long as he kept an eye out.

“Alright, Megs, give it back,” Toji said gently, hand curling open to reveal a waiting palm, Toji realizing that the young boy did not intend to help him underneath the car. Rather, he’d started a game of tag, little feet scurrying to the other side of the garage, awaiting his father’s move.

Refusing to let a one year old bruise his competitive spirit, Toji used his skills to be across the room in a split second, large hands grabbing Megumi before he could run away, a loud slew of giggles leaving the young boy’s lips, Toji smiling as he held him up with only two hands, walking towards the car like he was holding a feral cat.

Setting the babbling child down, Toji got down on his level, kneeling to tell Megumi to stay back and watch for a second. Pulling himself under the car, Toji then began to use Megumi like a little assistant, asking for tools as needed. “Wrench please” and similar phrases continued for a while before Toji was ready to actually do the task at hand.

Humming in approval at his handiwork, Toji made one final request to the boy sitting beside his feet. “Can you get the jug of oil for me, please?” he asked gently, hands busy holding the port above him closed, his ears catching an excited “yes” and the patter of running feet retreating farther into the garage.

Too preoccupied to notice the unusual length of time it was taking for his son to grab the requested bottle, Toji continued his tinkering before an odd smack sounded, glugging sounds following soon after.

Pausing his movements, Toji craned his neck to try and see his son but before he could even question what had happened, a familiar sniffle sounded at his feet, loud cries flowing from his baby’s mouth.

Sighing, Toji quickly screwed the oil duct tight, and pulled himself from under the car. The sight he emerged to was certainly a surprising one. There, right next to all of his discarded tools, was an oil-covered Megumi, his whole body completely drenched with the thick, black substance.

Letting out a sympathetic laugh and sweet “It’s okay”s, Toji scooped up his crying child, tutting as the dripping kid hid his face in his dad’s chest, trying to hide or remove the liquid, Toji couldn’t tell.

Completely clueless to the situation outside, you were busy in the kitchen, making a snack for your husband as a thank you. For the first time in an hour, familiar footsteps sounded behind you as you chopped up some vegetables, smiling to yourself as you expected two arms to come wrap around you. What you didn’t expect was to hear the wails of your baby boy, and you especially couldn’t have prepared yourself to see him in the flesh.

“What happened,” you gasped as Toji held the young boy to his chest, a black trail of droplets gathering around his feet as you rushed up to the two of them. Cradling little Megumi’s face, oil coated your hands, anger bubbling inside of you, the only funnel being a slap to your husband’s shoulder, narrowed eyes turning up to meet his own.

“I told you to leave him in here,” you huffed, your angry tone fizzling into sympathetic coos as your attention turned back to your son. “It was an accident,” Toji’s voice had that humorous lilt to it, one that was really good at making your very motherly nature less worrisome. “It happens to workers all the time, he’ll be okay.”

And he was right, because after what seemed to be hours of scrubbing and a whole bottle of dawn dish soap later, the previously oily Megumi was squeaky clean, and incredibly happy as he munched away on his dinner. Toji couldn’t help but retell the story a million times, ignoring your reprimanding words as he fell into a fit of laughter, which eventually had your lips starting to pull into a smile, Megumi none the wiser, his memory about the incident already wiped away.

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[eilidh-eternal]

You have a secret

Part of the Metanoia series | Part 1 | Masterlist |

| SingleDad!Johnny x f!reader | 18+ MDNI | CW death of a loved one, grief, attempted SA, Johnny and reader are going through it |

Glasgow is cold in January.

Hogmanay came and went with the typical rambunctious celebrations, every bar and pub in the city overflowing with patrons that spill out onto the pavement and the streets, properly drunk and stumbling over one another as they make their way to the next bar. Some of your coworkers invited you out for a bar crawl, just as they did last year, but you’d decided going out in the freezing weather and nursing a hangover at work in the morning isn’t worth the trouble. So home you stay, curled up with cheap Tesco sparkling wine and the last book on your reading list for the year, the tv playing a montage of celebrations across the city quietly in the background, and you slink off to bed just as the fireworks settle and the night falls quiet.

The days that follow are quiet too, the first week of the new year creeping along in the hazy in between, that little reset that comes between the holiday season and the yawning winter that looms before you, corporate deadlines and end of fiscal year reports that will start to pile up soon. You enjoy the quiet calm of that in between, try to remember what it feels like to be able to step away from your desk and take a lap around the office to stretch your legs before you’re inundated with so many reports you hardly have time to break away to use the restroom. 

Johnny frequents your thoughts more than you'd like to admit as you stroll around the office floor, wondering if he's operating in the same lull as you are, biding his time until his next assignment with dull busywork and monotonous routine. Wondering if he and Isobel had celebrated Hogmanay at home like you had or if maybe he’d taken her to a friends flat with him, one of his team members. Wondered if he let her stay up late with him and counted down the fireworks display together, or if he tucked her into a spare bedroom some hours before, waking her up just in time to see them and take her home to her own bed for the night. 

The growing tinge of disappointment hung like storm clouds over your mood when you hadn’t seen much of them in the days leading up to the new year, and you began to think maybe all the smiles, all the double entendres, were just a friendly personality and polite kindness on his part; just a neighbor being neighborly. There was an exchange of phone numbers with the offer to call or text one another if the other ever needed anything after dinner several weeks ago. Hardly an invitation for conversation. Another polite exchange and thanks for your mutual goodwill. 

Pretending not to care, to resist the urge to check your phone whenever it vibrates on your desk or in your back pocket, takes more effort than you had expected. It’s not him. Why would it be him? It’s not like he said he would call.

But Johnny has a habit of surprising you.

Snow and lights and festive wreaths don’t hold the same wonderment they used to. They all remind him of her. Remind him how she always insisted on a big family dinner. How she was always the one who invited everyone to their home and always had his favorite scotch on hand to toast with at midnight. The lights remind him of flashing red and blue, screaming sirens that cut through the air like the mournful wail of a banshee. The snow covered roads look too much like the roads did that day, tires slipping and sliding, the tail end of his car nearly spinning him out on the highway in his desperation to get to her. 

And the quiet.

The quiet of the world when snow falls and blankets the earth in layers of glittering sorrow makes the silence deafening. Her laughter doesn’t echo Isobels, there are no footsteps mirrored in the snow beside hers, and the tiny angel in the front yard stares up at the clouds where its missing guardian watches over them. It’s hard, for both of them. Isobel doesn't remember the accident, doesn’t remember riding in the ambulance with her mother or the way the security guard and several nurses had to hold Johnny back when she coded. She doesn't remember the tears, the anger, the denial of everything unfolding in front of him, crumbling around him and knocking the air from his lungs, leaving him crumpled on the floor outside her room. 

Isobel didn’t see how he sat slumped against the wall with his head between his knees, arms folded over his legs and fingers digging into his skin until the blunt edges of his nails drew blood. She never saw the procession of doctors and nurses that slowly filed out of the room, the only sound in the somber silence the soft tapping of rubber soles on tile. No beeping from monitors, no clicks and whooshes of the ventilator. Heavy, suffocating silence.

The social worker sat with him, let him fall apart right there on the hospital floor, a sympathetic hand resting on his trembling shoulder as he poured his heart out onto the cold, sterile white tile beneath him. When the silence became unbearable, when it started clawing at his skull and slicing into his skin like razor wire, he let her fill it. He listened to her tell him that Isobel is okay–scared, in shock–but alive and breathing. Lets her lead him through more sterile hallways to an office where another social worker does their best to occupy the tiny girl, but the minute Johnny walks through that door she’s all trembling hands and watery eyes, wobbly chin and confused tears.

He does his best not to let her see it, not when the snow is still full of magic and the lights still make her eyes bright with joy, pure and unbridled. But it's hard to hide the grief that dulls his own, the wintery haze that hardens them into icy pools that long for the warmth of summer skies. It’s hard to step outside and breathe the crisp winter air and not feel his throat constrict, feel the warmth seep from his body, replaced with the empty cold of a world without her in it.

Sometimes he can hear little bits of her in the way Isobel laughs, can see the same stubborn crease of her brow when she can’t quite figure something out and refuses to ask for his help. He sees the same light and spark in her eyes, the same mischief that they once shared through the years, and he can't bear to dim that light, to extinguish the joy and happiness that lives there.

It was a quiet holiday for the two of them. No big parties, no dinner and drinks, despite John's invitation. Just Johnny and Isobel, cuddled up together on the couch watching movies and sharing bites of whatever snack or dessert the other brought with them. He thought about texting you, asking if you had plans to go out, or maybe stay in. Isobel came trotting back from the kitchen, one of the cookies the two of you had made together in-hand, and clambered onto his lap, peering at the unsent message to you on his phone screen.

“What’s it say?” She squints her little eyes at the letters, still not quite able to put the words together.

“Nothin’, leannan.” The words disappear from the text field and he tosses his phone aside to settle his arms around her. “Did ye bring one for me?” She shakes her head no but breaks off a chunk and offers it up to him. “Thank ye.” He leans forward to take it from her, takes the bite straight from her hand, and her delighted giggles fill the gaping hole in his chest with comforting warmth.

Cinnamon and pine still lingers in the air, mingled with the scent of paper and ink, with the warm coffee several customers clutch between cold fingers. With boxing day and the holidays behind them, the shops are much less overwhelming at this time of year, most of the aisles in the book store blessedly empty and the silence only occasionally interrupted by the fluttering of pages or soft footsteps on carpeted floors. The perfect atmosphere for strolling between shelves and taking the time to read more than the blurb on the inside cover of a book before adding it to the small collection already cradled in your arms. It’s the perfect, quiet afternoon until it’s not. Until the silence is broken and every hair on the back of your neck is standing at attention.

“Well, lookit you. Pretty little thing, aren’t ya?” The words are clumsily spoken, slurred and hot against your cheek where his breath fans across clammy skin, sour and putrid, reeking of alcohol and god knows what else. He plucks the book from your hands, works hard to focus his eyes as he surveys the cover art and skims through a passage from the middle of the book. You stumble back a step, heels catching on the shelf behind you and nearly sending a few of the more precariously shelved titles tumbling to the ground. He follows, the only space between him and you created by the book in his hands, and you clutch your little stack tighter to your chest, willing hardbacks and delicate pages to become armor. “This isn’t the kinda stuff a little lady should be readin’.” He waves the book in your face, braces a hand on the shelf beside your head when he teeters off balance, and leans far too close, crowds you back against the shelf until the wood digs into your shoulder blades.

A glance at either end of the aisle reveals nothing but empty rows of shelves and not a soul in sight, no one to come to your rescue.

“I-I can read what I want. Please leave me alone, sir.”

“This is pure filth,” he sneers, shoving the book back at you. It lands on the floor at your feet with a fluttering ‘thump’ and the shelving behind you creaks as you try to maintain some distance from him. You wish that the novels at your back would open their covers and draw you in, hide you between the inked words within their pages. “Worse than porn, this is. ‘S not even any good. Why read this shite when you can have the real thing?” His hand dips down to fumble with something beneath his coat and you hear the metal teeth of a zipper unfurling.

You know what’s happening, know what you’ll see if you look down. You know that you should push and shove and yell and scream, but you can’t. Fear and realization settle heavy against your body, fog your mind with a haze so thick your vision turns blurry at the edges, and when you open your mouth to speak the only thing that comes out is a strangled, muted gasp as he presses his full body weight against you, searing heat pressed firm against your stomach and pinning you in place. 

Everything feels slow and blurry. Like you're underwater, trying to run across the bottom of the ocean, salt water stinging your eyes. The dread that weighs so heavily on your chest keeps you there, refusing to let you surface, refusing to let you draw more than shallow breaths that feel like lungfuls of water instead.

Something cuts through the depths. A noise. Someone's shouting. Angry. And then that weight on your chest, the weight that pins your body to the shelf, is gone. You still can’t breathe, salt water still blurs your vision, distorts the movement in front of you and leaves you disoriented, unsteady on your own feet. There’s more noise, softer this time.

An employee. She’s asking you something. Asking if you’re ok. You let her guide you, away from the aisle to a back room to sit in a chair and drink water from a paper cup while she calls the police. She stays with you until they get there and while they ask you questions, sits in silent support beside you and refills your water when you need it. The police leave, tell you that if they see the man he’ll be picked up, and the younger woman asks if you want to call someone to get you, to drive you home.

The thought of anyone else seeing you, talking to you, trying to touch you, makes your stomach twist with nausea. So you drive yourself home, empty book bag tossed in the seat beside you, no music to fill the silence. You don’t quite know how you got there, sitting in your car outside your house. Can’t remember making the turn down your street or how long ago you killed the engine.

Long enough for Johnny to take notice, it seems. He’s knocking on the window, calling your name, and it startles you. Drags you up from the quiet depths of your mind and sets your heart racing. Too fast. Too much. The car is too small, the seat belt too tight across your chest, and you need out. He nearly gets hit with the door, dodges heavy metal as it swings open suddenly, and his brows slope together in concern when he sees your shaking hands, sees the way you won’t look at his face.

“Wa’s wrong, bonnie? Wha’ hap-” You shove the door closed behind you, brush him off and skitter around him, won’t come within more than a few meters of him, and he calls after you as you climb the stairs to your door, hurriedly fitting the key in the lock. “Have I done-” 

You don't hear the rest of his sentence, and Johnny is left dumbstruck at the bottom of the steps, the slam of your front door and the sound of the deadbolt clicking into place ringing in his ears like he’s stood too close to a grenade.

Next>>>

©️Eilidh-Eternal.2024 ~ The intellectual property of Eilidh-Eternal is not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

[moonlightndaydreams]

Little Deaths | a ghostly ot8 story

MDNI 🔞 this is an adult story!!!

La petite mort. ‘the little death' is an expression that refers to a brief loss or weakening of consciousness, and in modern usage refers specifically to a post-orgasm sensation as likened to death.

fem!reader x ghost!Skz

Your driver abandons you at a creepy mansion that turns out to be haunted by 8 cursed, horny ghosts. Their mission is your pleasure.

Word count: 6.8k

Content Warning below

CW: ot8 are ghosts, drugging/intoxication of reader, seduction?coercion?, sexual acts with ghosts, vaginal fingering, oral sex (m & f), vaginal and anal penetration, blow jobs, double pen in 2 holes, double pen one hole, restraints, rough sex, spitting, it's basically a gangbang, sub reader, there is a part where a cock alternates between readers vagina and anus - this is not recommended irl, choking, name calling, pet names. The sexual acts in this story are not meant to reflect how things work irl.

a/n: this story isn't a love story, like I often write here on this blog. It's basically self indulgent ot8 porn. It's my first oneshot that features all 8 members fully, and it was actually so hard to write. I considered posting this story on my side blog @daydreams-after-dark where I write my unhinged shit, but it took so much energy and thought, that I wanted to keep it over here with my other oneshots of similar length.

I hope you enjoy this oneshot. If you do, please let me know your favourite part, and consider a reblog. x. Sorsha.

“Ma’m, I think we need to stop the car, this weather is just making it too hard to see.” your driver called over his shoulder. The rain outside was falling harder than ever, and with it being the dead of night, and on a windy deserted road, you knew he was right. It wasn’t safe.

“But where on earth do we stop?” You replied, trying to see out of the window.

“I think I’ve taken a wrong turn.” He said in a shaky voice. “But… I think I’ve found somewhere we can pull over.”

You leaned around to look between the two front seats of the car, and could just make out the shape of a mansion ahead of you. Your driver pulled the car to a stop in front of the dwelling. “Should we go knock on the door?” You wondered, but your driver was getting out of the car and pulled out your suitcase.

“I think so. I could barely see the road.” He insisted.

You let out a big sigh and climbed out of the car. From what you could tell, the mansion was enormous, and very old. 

Stepping up to the front door you saw there was no doorbell. Just a big brass knocker. “You know,” you turn to your driver who plonked down your suitcase beside your feet. “This feels a lot like that Backstreet Boys music video. The one with a haunted mansion.” You gripped the knocker in your hand and knocked three times and waited. “You know, Backstreets Bac-“ You turned to your driver but he was running back to the car, jumping back in and driving away. The fucker! 

“Hey!” You yelled after him, but he was gone.

The big front door creaked open, capturing your attention. A young man with fluffy long blonde hair peeked his head around the door.

“Oh my goodness!” You wailed. “I…it was raining…and…well…my driver…he’s just left me here.”

The young man looked at you curiously. “Come in out of the cold.” He smiled warmly. He immediately put you at ease.

“My name’s Felix.” He said picking up your suitcase.

“Y/n.” You replied following him into the mansion. It was quite dark, but you could make out that you were in a large entry hall, with a grand staircase in the centre.

“You will need to stay the night.” he stated. “I’ll take you to your room.”

“Stay the night?” You turned to him. “But I just need to make a phone call, have someone come collect me.”

Felix shook his head. We haven’t any mobile reception, and the landline is down. Due to the storm.”

You frowned.

“Plus,” he began as he started up the stairs. “No one should be driving in this weather.”

You closed your eyes and sighed. He was right. You followed Felix up the winding staircase and along a dimly lit hall. The place was creepy. It felt deserted and cold. Such a contrast from the man leading you to your room. Felix seemed so warm, like sunshine. Why would someone like him live here?

“Here we are.” He opened a door at the end of the hall. “You will be staying here. I’ll bring you up some supper and a cup of hot…chocolate. Yes, hot chocolate.” he rambled. “Please-” he gestured for you to enter the room and placed your suitcase on the floor beside you.

“Feli-?” you turned to the blond man, but he was gone. Weird. “Felix?” you called and popped your head back out into the hallway. But he had completely disappeared. Vanished into thin air.

Despite the cold emptiness of the mansion, your room was stunning. Even if it did look like it came out of a haunted house movie. It had Victorian gothic themed decor, with a huge bed that had four thick posts, and the bedhead itself was a feature piece. It came almost up to the high ceiling. Dim lamps around the walls illuminated the room. The entire space was grand and of another time.

“I suppose I could spend the night here.” you patted the bed. The bedding seemed freshly cleaned, and you noticed there was no dust on anything. It was like whoever lived here was expecting a guest. Was Felix the only one here? You wondered as you opened your suitcase and pulled out your silk nightie. 

Your sleepwear seemed far too vulnerable and sexy for such a room and as you climbed into the giant bed, you had thoughts of some beast coming and ruining you in your sleep. Maybe you’d need to stay awake just to be safe?

Knock knock. 

You pulled your knees to your chest, and your heart began to pound. Someone’s come to rape you and murder you. Your mind had really spiraled over the past ten minutes.

“Y/n? It’s Felix. I’ve brought you some food and a a-drink.”

You scampered over to the door. “Fel-” you started. But again no one was there. How was he so quick?

On the floor at your feet was a tray with a slice of cake and a big mug of hot chocolate. You took the tray back to your bed. You were hungrier than you thought, practically inhaling the cake within a minute.

You turned your attention to the hot drink, bringing it to your lips and taking a sip. It was delicious. Rich, creamy, with a hint of something you couldn’t put your finger on. You took another sip, allowing the warmth to wash over you. By the time you had drunk the last of it, you were feeling floaty and fuzzy, almost like you were drunk. 

All thoughts about your safety left you as you snuggled down and fell asleep.

Your core ached as you felt your body buzz and swirl. Sensations of cool hands all over your body, caressing your legs, and your breasts, making you moan. More. You needed more. Whatever this was, you had to have more or you’d die. Your body felt hot, like it was on fire, and you needed the relief of the coolness that was caressing you. 

The sensation moved up your inner thigh, while elsewhere on your body it wrapped around your neck. More across your stomach and breasts. It reached the top of your inner thigh and, ‘oh god yes, touch me there’, slipped inside of you. You felt like you were writhing on the bed, back arching off the mattress. But then it seemed you couldn’t move at all. It was like you were being held down. You tried to cry out, the pleasure becoming unbearable, but your mouth was filled with the same coldness that was inside your pussy. Again, your body cried ‘More’. You needed more. The cool sensation then filled you deeper and deeper and stretched you open, fuller, wider than ever before. Your throat felt full too, and you were certain you were going to choke. Your dreamy vision blurred further until you were seeing white, and the tension in your body reached breaking point. A surge of cold energy filled you and your core burst with a relief like you’d never experienced in your entire life. Your walls squeezed and pulsed around the coldness inside of you.

Your eyes flung open. Your chest was heaving. Your body was hot. Your cunt still fluttering. Fuck. That was some dream. You ran your hands over your body, down between your legs. Your panties! They were gone. You sat up abruptly, your eyes darting around to locate your missing underwear. There they were, at the far corner of the bed. Torn. What the actual fuck?

“You did that to yourself, you know.” a voice said from the corner of the room.

“Huh?” your eyes shot to a man sitting in the shadows in the corner. 

“We didn’t touch you.” he added.

You were confused. “We?” you arched an eyebrow, trying to calm your racing heart.

The man disappeared, startling you, then reappeared sitting on the edge of the mattress.

You pulled your knees into your chest. “How the fuck did you do that? Who are you? What are you? How’d you just do that?” you cried shrilly.

The man smiled, his dimpled cheeks and kind eyes making him appear non-threatening. But that didn’t mean he wasn't a psycho killer. A magic psycho killer.

“Here, have another hot chocolate.” he passed you a mug.

The hot chocolate. You scowled at the man. “You drugged me!” you hissed.

The man shrugged. “It’s an ancient remedy. We needed to know if you were compatible with us.”

“Compatible? Compatible for what? What do you mean, ‘us’? You and Felix? What does this drink do?”

“Shh..babygirl. It’s okay.” he hushed you. “The drink merely relaxes you and unlocks what you crave most. I promise it wears off within twelve hours. The drink you had earlier was only one eighth the strength of this one here.” he pointed to the drink in your hands.

You brought the drink to your nose and inhaled. It smelled irresistible, and you resisted the strong compulsion to drink it down. “But why do you want me to drink more? Couldn’t you tell if I was compatible or not from…” 

“You are compatible. It was clear the moment you called for us.” He said simply.

Your eyes widened. “Called for you? But I don’t even know you.” you whispered.

“The coldness you felt.” he leaned closer. “On your body. Inside your body. That was us. You could feel us even though we hadn’t touched you.”

You held your breath.

“We could feel you too. We could feel your desire. Your warmth. You aliveness. Your tightness. It wrapped around us.”  he whispered.

You whimpered. He, they, could feel you? You bit your lip. “So why drink more?” you arched an eyebrow. “If you know I’m compatible with…whatever this is.”

“Because what I’m about to tell you might be,” he sucked in a breath. “Overwhelming.”

You locked eyes with this stranger and carefully took a big gulp of the hot chocolate. You immediately felt a sense of warmth flow through your body and pooling in your core.

“You see, y/n, we’re ghosts.”

You just stared at him. “What?” you laughed. “Just ‘cos you did some magic disappear-reappear thing before, I don’t believe in-” 

The man in front of you turned translucent. Fuck. Your mouth fell open. You could still see him, but his colours were muted, and he wasn’t….solid.

“You’re a fucking ghost?” you choked. This wasn’t happening. Surely the drink has some kind of hallucinogen?

“Y/n, allow me to introduce you to my brothers.” he gestured for you to look around the room. Gradually, seven young, translucent, men emerged from the shadows. 

“Holy shit!” you whispered and swallowed hard.

“My name is Chan.” the dimpled mad said. “And here we have Changbin, Hyunjin, Jisung.” he pointed to three of the men who waved at you. ‘And over there we have Suengmin, Jeongin, Minho, and you’ve already met Felix.”

“Sorry I drugged you.” Felix blushed and lowered his gaze.

“May we come sit on the bed?” the one named Hyunjin asked. “We won’t touch you unless you ask.” he added.

Why did that something to your insides?

You nodded and the ghost men gathered around and hopped on the bed. That’s when you noticed they were all quite young and very handsome. And they were all wearing the same thing. A gold and black silk bathrobe.

The words of Chan resounded in your head. “You called to us”,  “We could feel your desire. Your warmth. You aliveness. Your tightness.” 

You pulled the blanket up higher and stared at your drink, considering whether or not to drink more if it was going to help you relax.

“W-what did you do when I called to you?” you asked in a small voice.

“We came straight away.” Another man said. Seungmin, you think.

“We watched you, kitten.” Minho smirked.

“You were so receptive.” Changbin added.

“Your body begged us to fill you, squeeze you. Fuck you.” Hyunjin said silkily.

“But you didn’t… touch me, right?” 

“No, babygirl. Like I said, your body showed us what you craved most. We didn’t touch you. I promise. But we could feel you.”

“But why do I crave you?” you were confused as to how this could even be happening.

“We think it’s part of the curse.” The chubby cheeked boy, Jisung, said. “Every so often a woman will stumble upon our mansion. We give them a drink,” he nodded to the cup in your hand, “to see if they’re compatible. Sometimes they just sleep soundly.”

“Those ones aren’t compatible.” Seungmin chimes in.

“And some, like you, are receptive.” Jisung continued.

“Compatible.” Added Minho.

You looked around the room. So you craved these… ghosts? Sexually? Was this a trick? You thought about your dream and how incredible it felt to be consumed by whatever it was that was touching you. Would it feel like that?

“What happens when you find a compatible woman?” You were almost afraid to ask.

“We have to pleasure her.” Chan said flatly.

Your eyes flicked to his.

“And what happens if you don’t?”

“We get tortured.”

Your eyes widen. “Tortured? Why? By who?”

“I think we need to tell her the whole story.” Said Jeongin.

Chan rubbed his chin. “Hmm, you’re right.” He took a moment before he spoke.

“Y/n. When we were alive we were… a harem. Or reverse harem, I suppose. We had our Mistress whom we served… sexually. She wasn’t right, in the head. She went mad. She didn’t want us to age, to get older. So she hired a witch who was meant to concoct a spell that would keep us young for eternity. The spell was not only to keep us youthful either, but also bind us,” he looked around at the other men. “To be sex slaves forever.” 

“But it went wrong.” Exclaimed Jisung. “It killed us. Now we’re young, dead, sex slaves forever.” He looked down at the bedspread.

The mood in the room suddenly dropped and you could tell all the men were in a moment of reflection.

“So,” you started slowly. “When a woman comes along who subconsciously requires your… services… then you are bound to fulfill her needs?”

They all nodded.

“Our bodies naturally respond. It’s intoxicating.” Hyunjin said softly. “All of us are aching for you.” His hand reached out and touched your arm. Cold. Cold just like the sensation in your dream.

“What if I say no? What happens?”

“We won’t touch you.” Chan states. 

“But we’d be in pain until the next compatible woman comes along.” Said Felix.

“The urge and desire won’t dissipate until we have found another compatible woman.” added Seungmin.

You considered everything they just told you. It was wild. It was far-fetched, and absolutely unbelievable. But here you were. On a bed with a room full of ghosts. Ghosts that were horny for you. You should say no. But you couldn’t. It seemed you were horny for them too.

They were alluring. Tempting. Could they make you feel the way you did in your dream? They weren’t even touching you then, supposedly, and you wondered what it’d feel like to have them really do those things to you, and more.

You took the cup to your mouth. “What happens if I drink this stronger version?” You looked at Felix.

“It will relax you. But more importantly it shows us what your body truly needs to be sated, and who want to do it to you.” Said Changbin.

“There’s no hiding if you drink that. You won’t be able to hold back.” Minho smirked.

“And everything will feel more intense.” Added Jeongin. 

“Babygirl.” Chan gripped your arm. “You need to give us your permission. Will you let us pleasure you… fuck you until you can’t take any more?”

You bit your lip. “Yes.” you whispered, and gulped the entire drink down. 

“That’s it, baby.”  Clapped Jisung.

“I knew from how hard she came earlier that she’d be up for this.” Seungmin added.

“She’s just drank the whole thing. Chan, that was full strength.” Felix was horrified.

“Means she’ll be pliable, we can do anything.” Seungmin said slyly.

“Well, anything she wants.” Corrected Changbin..

“She’ll want us to do absolutely everything. I can tell. This one’s a fucking freak.” Said Minho.

You immediately became lightheaded. And hot. So fucking hot. You threw the blanket off and started clawing at your skimpy nightie. “Hot!” you cried. “So hot.”

Ice cold hands came to your body, ripping the garment from you, leaving you naked, on fire, your skin burning. “Please!” you cried, searching for the cool relief of those hands.

A hand wrapped around your leg, dragging you into the middle of the mattress. More hands started to explore your body. Firm, freezing, so relieving against your scorching skin. 

You opened your eyes to find that all eight ghosts were surrounding you on the bed. But they weren’t translucent anymore. They appeared as real as living men. “Touch me.” you sobbed as your eyes darted around to each of them.

“Fuck, she’s perfect.” Whispered Jisung.

You didn’t know whose hands were who’s, but there were so many on your body. So cooling to the skin. A hand cupped a breast, while another pinched your other nipple. Your legs were spread wide and a frozen cold tongue pressed against your pussy. 

“Fuck!” you cried out and looked down to find Jisung sucking on your clit. “Fuck! Feels so good.” you panted.

“How does she taste, brother?” someone asked. 

“Like pussy.” he groaned. “I fucking missed this taste.”

While your eyes had rolled back into your head from the intensity of what was happening, you felt your arms being pulled above your head, and soft velvet ropes were tied around your wrists. You looked up behind you to see Minho tying the other ends of the ropes to the headposts. “Kitten likes to be tied up.” he winked at you.

Meanwhile, Jisung had peeled himself away from between your legs and Hyunjin was kneeling between them, gazing at your pussy. Just the way he was looking at you and licking his lips made your cunt gush. He noticed and swiped his finger over your dripping arousal, then took his finger to his lips. He proceeded to wink at you, slip off his robe. With the most deranged look you’d ever seen on a man, he lifted your hips to line your entrance up with his cock, and slammed you onto him. His cock felt like a hard block of ice. Thick, hard, rigid. But so relieving inside your searing heat.

He was so strong, he wasn’t even thrusting. He was simply making you fuck him. The binds on your arms were pulled taut every time you were fully impaled on him.

“So pliable.” Jeongin said as he leaned down to suck one of your nipples. 

“Like a fucking ragdoll.’ Seungmin mused. “Look how her eyes roll back every time he fucks into her.”

It was so hard to focus on where everyone was and what they were doing. All you knew is that you needed them to touch you. You needed Hyunjin to keep doing whatever he was doing. He felt so long, so deep, and after a while the sharp coldness eased off and his cock started to feel more warm. More alive. You weren’t sure whether your body was warming him up, or if he was cooling you down.

Your core tightened, your orgasm was approaching fast. As if on cue, a finger landed on your clit, and rubbed hard, rough circles on it.

“Please…please…I’m gonna…I…I…so close..” you cried and babbled. 

Hyunjin thrust you onto you harder, digging his fingers into your flesh, and the fingers on your clit became more forceful.

“It’s okay, Hyunin’s gonna make you cum.” Chan cooed.

A sudden powerful surge of cold energy exploded inside your cunt, causing your walls to automatically contract around it. “Holy fucking shit!” you panted. “I’m…fuck!!!” your walls clenched tighter than they ever had before, and you were coming so hard you thought your body had split apart. It felt as though your entire pelvic region was pulsing around Hyunjin’s cock. It lasted so long, maybe an entire minute, and by the time you came down, you were sobbing. Hyunjin leaned over and took you in a deep kiss before slipping out.

“No! No!” you cried out. You were too empty now. Your body relaxed into the bed when a few sets of lips soothed you through kisses to your body. “More.” you whispered softly.

“Shh. You’re gonna be plenty filled tonight, baby.” Jisung whispered in your ear, before he hooked his hands under your arms and dragged you so your head hung off the edge of the mattress. He opened his robe to reveal his delicious cock, and you immediately opened your mouth for him. He smirked as he pushed his cock into your warm, wet mouth. He too was was ice cold, but you noticed he began to warm up quickly. 

“Baby likes to choke on big cocks, huh?” he snarled. “I never expected such a perfect little lady to turn up on our doorstep tonight.” he pushed himself all the way into the back of your throat. You couldn’t breathe. But you didn’t care. Right now being filled with cock was more important to your survival than air. 

“Fuck. You can see it pressing into her throat.” Jeongin hissed. He was setting himself up to fuck you now. 

“If you put your hand on her neck, you can feel it.” Jisung said excitedly.

Jeongin reached up and pressed his hand to your neck, squeezing your throat and making Jisung feel so much bigger. He pulled out to let you catch your breath, and then he was stretching your throat out again.

Jeongin twisted your lower half so you were on your side from your waist down. He straddled your bottom leg, pinning it into position, whilst lifting your upper leg to rest on his shoulder. He pressed his hips, pushing his cock into you, and immediately started fucking you fast. He was hitting you so deep that you were certain he was pushing your cervix deeper and deeper into your body, and the way Jisung seemed to be pushing deeper and deeper into your throat, you thought they would eventually meet up in the middle.

Your hands were guided to wrap around two rock hard, ice cold cocks. You had no clue who they belonged to. You didn’t care. All these ghost men were fuckable. You wanted to touch and feel every single one of them.

“Grrr…I’m fucking coming.” cried Jeongin. 

“Let’s cum in her at the same time.” Said Jisung.

Then you felt it. The same as with Hyunjin. The cold surge of energy, filling you up from both ends. Your back arched off the bed as you came again. Your hands squeezed around the cocks you were holding. Cries and hisses rang out around the room at the sight before them.

“Good girl. So fucking good.” Purred Jisung as he eased his cock from your mouth. 

“Noooo!” You cried. He leaned down and kissed you. Baby, I’m gonna fuck you so good later. I already know what you’re gonna want me to do.” He winked.

Jeongin was gone too. The dicks in your hands also gone, and you whimpered at so much loss. You didn’t have time to cry for too long when you were suddenly dragged by your feet further onto the bed and flung into your stomach. “You’re such a filthy little slut, pup.” Seungmin laid against you, whispering nasty words in your ear. He’d grasped your arms, holding them both behind your back with one hand. Your hair was plastered on your cheek, and he spat on it before pushing your face against the mattress below.

“Please-” you choked. 

“Oh, my slutty little pup. I know exactly what you want. But I wanna hear you say it for the whole class to hear.”

How does he know? You wondered to yourself in your delirious state. Seungmin pressed the length of his hardness against your ass. 

“Please…fill my ass.” You sobbed. A collective hum spread around the room at your admission.

“That’s right.” Seungmin pressed his tip against your rim. You still weren’t used to how cold their cocks were to begin with. “Such a slut wanting me to put it in without loosening you up first.” He spat on the side of your face again, his saliva sticking in your hair. You needed him to hurry. You needed him to fill you. You were so fucking empty. 

Seungmin’s cock breached your rim as he pressed his body further on top of you. The stretch felt overwhelmingly satisfying, while the coolness of his cock soothed the sting. The feeling of being trapped beneath him, arms held tight behind you, the feeling of helplessness intensified your need for him to penetrate you.

Finally, his hips met the curve of your ass cheeks. “Such a tight little hole. He grunted as he started to grind against you. “Not sure how tight it’ll be by morning.” He whispered low in your ear. He started with a slow, steady pace, allowing your body to warm his cock. “Harder…harder.” You mumbled into the mattress. 

Seungmin growled and fucked into you, pressing your face further into the mattress. It felt like he was fucking you forever, yet not long enough. You were mumbling and dribbling all over the bed. Then, the familiar feeling of what seemed to be their orgasms, filled you once again, making you come hard. Your cunt clenched around nothing, and you were already desperate to have someone fill it again. 

It was as though Minho read your mind, and as soon as Seungmin dislodged himself from your ass, he was dragging you to the otherside of the bed. He stood on the floor and pressed your legs up into a mating press position and drank you in with hungry eyes. “I love watching my cock sink into a pussy.” He said. “Watch with me.”

You looked down just in time to see his cock push inside of you. “Kittie’s hungry.” He smirked as you sucked in his entire cock, and glanced up at you. “Does it feel good?” He asked.

You nodded fervently. “Yes! So good.” You squeaked. He cocked an eyebrow. “What about your ass?” He pulled out of your cunt and pushed fully into into your ass.

“Fuck! So deep. So fucking deep.” You cried. This position allowed Minho to reach the deepest part of you. He fit your cunt so well, but, oh fuck, he felt incredible in your ass too. You wanted him to fuck both hol-

“You really are filthy.” Minho said disbelief. He pulled out of your ass and plunged back into your pussy.

You knew, you really knew, that this wasn’t a good idea, but you wanted him to do it so fucking bad. And he knew! He knew what you wanted. They all seemed to know. You didn’t have to say a word and they knew all the filthy things you craved.

You glanced around you to see some of the others had gathered around to watch Minho fuck your pussy, then your ass, then back to your pussy, while he held you still on the bed.

“Look how her holes stay open waiting for him to put it back in again.” Felix said mesmerised.

Despite your delirium, you had an idea. You wanted someone to finger fuck you when Minho was in your ass. He pulled out of your cunt once more and as he pushed back into your now gaping asshole, Changbin slipped two fingers into your pussy. 

“That’s it, Bunny. Binnie’s fingers stretch you good don’t they?” He purred.

Your hands flailed around looking for cocks to jerk off, relieved to find Felix and Jeongin in your hands. “My mouth! Need someone in my mouth.” You whimpered.

“Fuck, she’s perfect.” Cooed Jisung again. “Chan, you should fill her mouth. She’s begging you.”

“Yeah Channie, you haven’t felt her. She’s fucking incredible.” Seungmin encouraged. 

Yes. You wanted Chan in your mouth. “Please.” You were crying because you wanted it so bad. Chan straddled your chest and pressed the tip of his cock against your lip. “Open wide, babygirl. Daddy needs to make you choke.”

Your eyes rolled back into your head as he pushed his cock into your mouth. “That’s it. Suck on it.” He pushed deeper.

Minho picked up his pace, slamming into your ass at an alarming pace, and Changbin was digging into your g-spot aggressively. You were feeling so used, but at the same time so special.

“Changbin’s got four fingers in you, baby. You should see your pretty little holes.” Jisung panted as he fucked into his own hand. 

Chan gripped your hair and started to fuck your throat at the same rhythm as Minho was fucking your ass. You didn’t know why taking their cocks down your throat was so incredibly arousing, but it was. You couldn’t get enough. It was almost like you didn’t need to breathe when they were in your mouth, and you wondered if it was some weird ghost magic.

You were pinned down and held still as they forced another orgasm out of you. How much more could your body take? You hadn’t even fucked all of them yet. You started to feel drowsy and your eyes fluttered closed. Chan withdrew his cock from your mouth, and some saliva dribbled down your chin. 

“Babygirl.” He stroked your cheek. “Are you okay? You need to wake up for us. You still need more to be sated.”

Minho and Changbin pulled out of you too and came up to check on you. 

“We can’t keep doing this if you’re asleep, pretty lady.” Felix stroked your hair and gazed down at you. 

You opened your eyes and grinned with a fucked out expression. “Why am I empty?” You whispered.

“Atta girl.” Chan slapped your face, pulling you out of your sleepy moment, and just like that you were ready for more.

“Come ride me, bunny.” Changbin coaxed you over by gripping his cock and pumping it a few times. You licked your lips and crawled towards him, and a few hard slaps landed on your ass as you did so.

Changbin had a thick cock. Maybe the thickest you’d ever seen. You threw a leg over him and reached down to line his cock up with your entrance. You both sighed in relief as you slid effortlessly onto his thickness and immediately began to roll your hips. “Fuck, yeah, bunny. Still so tight, even after we’ve fucked you open.”

You grinned down at him as you found a rhythm with him rolling his hips up into you in the most delicious way. “Kiss me.” he sighed, and pulled you down on top of him and captured you in a deep kiss. You melted against him, as he cupped your ass and pulled your cheeks apart. You panted into Chanbgin’s mouth. “You want Felix at the same time?” he whispered. You nodded.

Like clockwork, you felt the mattress dip behind you. “It’s okay, love. Lixi’s gonna help keep you feeling full.” he positioned himself behind you and lined himself up with your ass. 

Although your ass had been stretched by two cocks already, Felix was met with some resistance due to Changbin already filling you up so good. But Felix persevered, pressing and pushing until he was fully seated inside of you.

A few of the other men gasped at the sight of seeing you filled like this. 

“Felix,” said Changbin. “You know what she wants us to do. Are you ready to give it to her?” Felix grabbed hold of your hips, pressing his fingers into you hard, and began to fuck you with hard, sharp thrusts. He snapped his hips quickly, forcing you to cry out in choked sobs. At the same time, Changbin gently rolled his hips up into you. The difference in technique and pace was driving you insane. The feeling of both your holes stretched like this was overwhelming. They were going to break you into pieces. You were sure of it. You were crying and sobbing, eventually collapsing onto Changbin and letting them fuck you dumb. Drool was dribbling out of your mouth onto Changbin’s shoulder, and you felt like you were losing your sense of consciousness.

“P-please…please…ruin me…fuck me…feels s’good…so deep… full.” You babbled.

“She’s so dumb from cock. Look at her. Eyes unfocused. Drooling.” Minho observed. 

“Her cunt is gushing around Binnie too. You all know what she wants next, don’t you?” Jisung winked at Chan. 

“C’mon fellas. Fuck her harder. She’ll fall asleep if you’re too gentle.” Minho snickered.

Both Changbin and Felix doubled down, both finding a matching rhythm, and slamming into your holes. Even though you knew what to expect from theirs orgasms, it still hit you hard, taking you over the edge with them. The three of you were a trembling mess by the time they pulled out of you.

“Pup, show us your pretty used holes.” Seungmin requested. You happily obliged by leaning your head into the bed, ass in the air, and spreading your cheeks with your shaky hands. 

Whines, whimpers, sighs, and mumbled “fucks” filled the room as they all gazed hungrily at your sloppy, used holes. “Fuck, I wish I could ejaculate. I’d cum all over that ass.” sighed Hyunjin.

“I’d fucking cum in there and watch it ooze out.” added Minho.

“Babygirl.” Chan had laid himself on his back, leaning against the pillows. “My turn to feel your pussy. I’m out of patience.” 

You sauntered over to him, and kissed him. “Turn around, babygirl. Show ‘em how you ride reverse.” You straddled him, reverse cowgirl, and swallowed up his cock whole. Chan’s cock was ice cold like the rest of the men, but he was much, much bigger. He stretched you out like you were made for him. “That’s it. There you go. There you go.” he cooed once you planted your feet into the mattress and used your legs as leverage to bounce yourself up and down his length. 

All eyes were on your hole swallowing Chan’s cock, and then sliding up to reveal just how wet and slippery you were. Hyunjin was lying on his stomach watching everything curiously. A few of the others were pumping their still hard cocks. You even noticed a couple of the men were translucent again.

You eyes landed on the one man you hadn’t fucked yet. Jisung. He looked at your pussy desperately, like he was in pain. He needed you. He looked up, locking eyes with you, and in an instant, he crawled over to you. “Hey baby. You ready for me?” he grinned.

“I am.” you whimpered.

“Okay, lean back on me…that’s it.” instructed Chan. “Let’s push your legs up. Good girl. That’s it. Make room for Jisung.”

Jisung kneeled in front of you and rubbed his cock against your clit. “Please.” you plead. You watched as Jisung pushed against your entrance, beside Chan, and when the tip slipped in you cried out. “Fuck.” you squeaked. “It’s so…fuck…the stretch…it’s” your hands gripped onto Jisung’s arms to hold yourself in place as Jisung pushed further into your cunt. 

Jisung’s cock was cold, where Chan’s had warmed up and the difference in temperature allowed you to feel the two distinct penises that were inside you.

“I’m gonna push all the way in now, baby.” Jisung pushed his hips hard, and with your pussy so wet, it gave way just enough for the rest to slip in.

“Fuck, it’s so tight.” Jisung’s eyes squeezed closed. 

“Full…S’full.” You groaned.

“Stuffed full of cock.” Seungmin admired.

The other men had gathered around and watched in awe as they watched your pussy being fucked by two cocks at once. Chan continued to hold your legs up out of the way while he fucked you from below. Han leaned over you as he snapped his hips as vigorously as your cunt would allow.

‘’Open.” demanded jisung. You opened your mouth for him and he spat into it before crashing his mouth onto yours. Apparently ghosts don’t ejaculate, but oddly enough they have saliva. 

“This what you wanted, babygirl?” Chan nibbled your neck. You answered with a whimper. 

“You love being stretched like this. Filled so deep with cock?” Jisung said, panting. “You don’t have to say anything. We already know. We know how after this you want us to all take turns double penetrating you.”

You moaned in agreement.

“One in the pussy…one in the ass. Or two in your tight cunt like right now.” Jisung pressed his mouth against your ear. “Maybe even two in the ass?” he whispered. “Maybe we should get everyone to pair up ready?” 

You yelped, and clenched tighter around the two men.

“She likes that idea.” Chan chuckled.

“Well it’s her idea, remember? We’re the sex slaves.” Jisung grunted as he pushed in as deep as possible.

“Good thing our erections last so long. Our pretty Babygirl is so needy. Lucky we're here to take care of her.”

Your body felt floppy, like they could bend you and stretch you however they wanted, and your body would accommodate. All of your attention was focused on the sensation in your core. You felt so full. Their cocks reaching deep inside you. What state would it be in when they’re finished? You didn’t care because after this you wanted them to do it all again. 

Jisung changed his angle to concentrate on your g-spot, causing your body to start shaking. It was simultaneously too much and not enough. You were a helpless, sobbing mess, needing to come, but not wanting to yet.

Minho and Felix moved closer, one on either side of you, and took hold of your trembling legs, freeing up Chan’s hands.

Subconsciously, your hands found their cocks and you started to jerk them off.

“You gonna come with us, babygirl? I can feel you’re so close.” Chan encouraged as he wrapped a hand around your neck to choke you.

Jisung sat back on his knees and began to rub your clit as he and Chan continued to abuse your pussy with hard, relentless thrusts.

You threw your head back, wanting to cry out, but with Chan’s hand squeezing you, it turned into a gurgling sound. Hands groped at your tits, most likely Minho and Felix while they held your legs. You felt the tip of a cock on your cheek, and Chan turned your head so you could open up for Changbin.

You couldn’t hold on any longer. 

“That’s it, babygirl… let go.” Chan whispered.

“Come for us.” Hyunjin said. Words of encouragement resonated around the room.

The tension inside you snapped, setting off your orgasm. Your cunt clamped down, causing Chan and Jisung to come too, moaning and cursing under their breaths. The force of both of their cold energies extended your orgasm, thrusting you into a new realm of pleasure. It had you pulsing, squeezing, shaking, and then squirting all over their cocks.

“Fuck, she squirted so much! Like a fucking faucet.” Someone growled. 

Changbin came in your mouth, and with Chan still choking you, it heightened the feeling of your orgasm and you squirted a second time. 

“Good fucking girl.” Purred Chan as he continued to roll his hips into you.

“She’s the most compatible we’ve ever seen.” Noted Jeongin.

“We’re gonna pull out now, baby.” Jisung stroked your cheek. You grasped his arm and shook your head.

“No! Need more!” You sobbed.

“I thought she was meant to be satisfied by now.” Said Hyunjin, confused.

“It’s like the more we give her, the more she needs.” Observed Felix.

“We have to keep going until she’s satisfied.” Confirmed Minho.

“What a fucking shame.” Sneered Seungmin as he approached the bed and pulled Jisung out of your cunt and lined himself up.

A/n: I have similarly unhinged oneshots and drabbles that you may enjoy on my side blog @daydreams-after-dark .

General Taglist is open for both blogs.

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itshannjisung @chansbabyg @kangnina @weareapackofstrays @xxkissesforchanniexx @sunshinesquokka @enjaken @queenmea604 @lyramundana @queen-in-the-shadows @bethanysnow @newhope8 @jehhskz @vanillacupcakefrosting

[oldmannapping]

Mama - a Red Hood fanfic

Directly inspired by this post by @webshood

Excerpt:

You don’t jack a car in Crime Alley. And you definitely don’t jack a car in Crime Alley that almost certainly has a child in it.

The “Welcome To Gotham: 10 Things You Need To Know” pamphlets that Harley Quinn earnestly distributed to newcomers to the Gotham underworld were very clear about Red Hood’s list of Dos and Don’t.

Among the top Don’ts were:

Crime in Crime Alley

Crimes against women in Crime Alley

Crimes against children in Crime Alley

Mama

It wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t been so goddam cute.

Felicia Aidia, barely a year old. Couldn’t quite walk yet, but she could stand unassisted for five seconds of startled jubilance before her own shock at the situation would send her flopping back on her adorable diapered butt. Huge almond eyes that were nearly black, wispy black hair and full pink cheeks, she looked altogether too cherubic to be real.

Felicia had been strapped safely in a booster seat, poking at the condensation on the window of the rideshare car she was in with her babysitter, when they were carjacked by an idiot with either a death wish or less situational awareness than a stoned beetle.

There was no other excuse for why this man jacked a She-Share, one of the brightly-marked cars in a fleet that was famous for being Gotham’s first rideshare company to boast child seats in every one of their vehicles at no extra cost.

They were famously affordable and primarily utilised by single parents in low-income areas such as Crime Alley.

You don’t jack a car in Crime Alley. And you definitely don’t jack a car in Crime Alley that almost certainly has a child in it.

The “Welcome To Gotham: 10 Things You Need To Know” pamphlets that Harley Quinn earnestly distributed to newcomers to the Gotham underworld were very clear about Red Hood’s list of Dos and Don’t.

Among the top Don’ts were:

Crime in Crime Alley

Crimes against women in Crime Alley

Crimes against children in Crime Alley

The car thief had shoved the driver and Felicia’s babysitter out of the vehicle but utterly failed to notice the giant car seat and the appropriately-sized child occupying it.

A city-wide Amber Alert was out within minutes, which honestly was pretty good considering it happened in Crime Alley and Gotham police liked to pretend that area was just a mysterious Bermuda Triangle kinda place where people just mysteriously went missing, who can say why, oh well, what can you do.

The police were fast but Red Hood was faster.

The vigilante was leaping across rooftops with the speed of a panther. One police helicopter pilot completely forgot their assignment and started following him instead of the stolen car. People livestreamed blurry videos of the car careening around corners that hadn’t yet been blocked off, panning up to catch a glimpse of red metal and brown leather streaking across the sky in pursuit.

The end was anticlimactic. Hood crashed onto the roof of the car from the awning of a deli like a feral beast and punched straight through the driver’s side window. He knocked the driver out and wrested control of the vehicle until it skidded to a stop a few blocks away from the official police cordon.

Before any officers got there, Hood had hogtied the unconscious car thief and carefully extracted Felicia from her carseat.

She let out a small, uncertain wail at the sight and sound of cheering locals, crowding close to film and too boisterous with relief to realise they were scaring a baby.

Felicia pouted. It had been loud, and then fast, and then unfamiliar, and then loud again, and suddenly she was outside, and she was supposed to be napping, and she didn’t know any of these people.

Wait, yes she did. The man cradling her protectively with one arm and holding the other out to the crowd, telling them to, “Back off, back off, give her some space,”, she’d seen him before. She didn’t know how but he was familiar. His big red face (no eyes, very strange, no mouth too! How did he suck his thumb?) wasn’t scary. He was the man on the wall painting! The big wall near the playground had a picture of him painted on it. The playground was safe, and he reminded her of the playground. He was holding her protectively and he was all nice and warm.

Felicia didn’t know many words. But she did know the word she used for the person who felt safest.

“Mama!” she said loudly, clinging to the red man’s arm. “Mama!”

“It’s okay, kiddo,” he said in a very soothing voice for someone without a mouth, “We’ll get your mom.”

A police officer arrived and tried to take Felicia away. She did not appreciate it.

“Mama!” she cried louder, torn between frustration and fear. No one ever listened to her! She reached for the red man. “MAMA!”

Well. Like we said. She was so goddam cute. All eyes were on her fat little face, her adorable, freshly-rescued, chubby little hands reaching out to Red Hood. Everyone was filming her on their phones.

And she called the Red Hood “Mama”, in a perfectly clear, tiny, adorable little baby voice.

Of course it went viral.

For a while, it was a fun in-joke between Gothamites. People playing vigilante bingo to see who they’d spot each night would jokingly ask each other if they’d seen “Mama” down by the docks. Goons blustered amongst themselves that “Mama” didn’t scare them, as they kept their heads down and prayed he didn’t notice them. One bold news website captioned a picture as “Red Hood/Mama” in a story about Felicia’s rescue, while the commenters lost their minds either rofl skull skull skull dying laughing or warning the editors that they should be careful in case the trigger-happy vigilante didn’t have a sense of humour.

Closer to Hood’s home though, the reception was different. And, to him, wholly unexpected.

It started with Felix, the 16-year-old who’d been a sex worker until Hood cleaned up the under-18 scene in the Alley, and who now helped shuttle street kids to the lowkey safehouses Hood and his team had set up. Felix was a good middleman the kids trusted to take them somewhere with food, water, electricity, and no one called CPS. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a good compromise until Hood could clean the stink out of the city’s social services.

Felix was smoking on a stack of crates one night, chatting to a couple of his friends, when Hood strolled over.

“Hola, Mama,” Felix greeted casually, taking a drag of his cigarette as his friends choked.

Hood just sighed. “Not you too.” With a weary exhale, he got to business. “I got those extra blankets you needed for the safehouse on Cedar. They’re at the Warehouse B if you want to run them over tonight. Sheila knows you’re coming, she’ll sort you out.”

And so, with Felix not dead and two witnesses with big mouths to tell the tale, word spread. It was open season on Red Hood’s new nickname.

“Hey, mama!” called the girls on the corner as Hood checked to make sure none of the johns had gotten too rough.

“Mama’s here!” crowed the gays and theys across the block as he dropped off condoms and hot soup.

“It’s mama!” announced the receptionist at the shelter when Red Hood stopped by to do an inventory check.

Everywhere he went.

Whatever. It would pass. People’s attention spans were shot to shit, and the loudest viral jokes always burnt out the fastest. At least, Hood was pretty sure. He wasn’t really online much but it was impossible to exist in the world without hearing a few meme references, and they always seemed to die out fast. When was the last time anyone talked about Baby Shark? Or that kid who said “corn” weird? This would blow over.

Granted, it was taking a bit longer than Hood initially expected.

When Dick gleefully changed his name in the Family Chat, Jason ignored it. He never replied to that thing anyway.

When Red Robin said, “Mama, you’re clear,” in perfectly neutral tones during an otherwise routine surveillance operation, and several comm lines immediately muted themselves, Jason ignored it.

When Damian’s new black kitten, with huge blue eyes and a white streak on the forehead, was named Mama, Jason started to get annoyed. Even DAMIAN?

When Roy answered his call with, “Mama, I missed you!” followed by thirty seconds of unhinged cackling, Jason hung up the phone and didn’t speak to Roy for three days.

When Cass used the ASL sign for Mom to relay information to him during a mission brief, his shoulders dropped.

When Alfred gave him an exquisite pink cupcake on the second Sunday of May, Jason thanked him, left the room, walked into the nearest bathroom, carefully put the cupcake on the bench, and screamed into a towel for six minutes.

When Duke finished a story about growing up in the Narrows with, “Mama knows what I’m talking about, right?”, Jason was defeated.

Fine. They win. Everyone wins.

He worked so hard on a legacy. He dug out of his own GRAVE. He clawed himself back from insanity and anger and reclaimed himself, reclaimed Red Hood, reclaimed his home. He carved a new space for himself, not quite a vigilante, not quite a villain. He made his own rules. He built an empire.

And now, he’s FUCKING Mama.

Life isn’t fair. Sometimes the Joker kills you and you sever heads and butcher bad guys and build up a reputation and then one goddam adorable child says two goddam syllables and you’re fucking MAMA for the rest of your goddam life.

Fuck it. He’s going home. He’s too tired for this shit.

[rrickgrrimes8]

Your Bear Part II

summary: you are found (part I)

Joel Miller x daughter!reader, Tommy Miller x niece!reader

warnings: angst, reunion, violence, infected, happy ending :))

not sure if i like this as much as the first part but i hope yall do. i just want to thank you all for the response to my past few fics (especially your bear). its been unreal. i stopped writing for a while and these were my first ones back so this was an insane response to it! thank you so much for your love and appreciation it really does mean a lot!

also! i tagged basically everybody who left a comment asking for part 2 - sorry if thats annoying idk ive never done a taglist before. thanks for the comments tho :) 

masterlist

request guidelines (new)

requests are open

word count: 2.3k

22 Years Ago...

The world around you screamed for help. People ran around, skin on fire, missing massive chunks.

You wailed as they passed, hands tightened around your ears. You just wanted to find help. You wanted to save Sarah. This wasn’t what you expected.

“D-ad,” You cried, hiccupping, “D-addy!” You missed his touch. You missed his voice and his face. His laugh. You just wanted your daddy.

But which way had you come from?

You stood, idle, in an alley way you didn’t recognize, a man lay a few feet beside you. Blood seeped from his neck, running to kiss the tips of your shoes.

He twitched.

Your breath caught in your throat, the hair on your neck stood high. “D-daddy,” You whimpered, quieter than before, “Please.”

He looked at you now. His face grotesque, the shape of jagged teeth marked his greyish skin. White, stringy tendrils extended out of his mouth as he crawled to you – his legs being left behind as he did.

You screamed when his nails scratched against your shoe. In the panic, your bear fell from your grasp, landing in the bloodbath.

You tried backing up from the monster, but his hand stopped you. His claws captured your ankle.

You didn’t realise you were falling until your back hit the wet ground. You let out a shriek as he trailed up your body. “P-please,” You sobbed, “D-ad! D-addy!”

The creature didn’t even flinch. He opened his jaws further, searching for your small neck, ready to mark you just as he had been.

But a shot sounded off and his weight settled on your petite body.

A strong force tugged him off you, the same force pulling you into their arms. You wailed, fighting against the stranger’s grip.

“It’s okay, sweetgirl, you’re okay,” She told you, rushing you away from the scene, “You’re going to be okay; I promise.”

x

You didn’t know what to make of Jackson. It was nice, you supposed. Weird though. It felt like what you imagined before felt like. Not that you remembered much. You remembered how loud cars were, how the TV remote worked, how to strum a guitar.

You remembered your sisters voice, her hair, how smart she sounded even if you didn’t understand a word.

You wished you remembered your dad. He was a blur to you. Like you had missed a chapter of a book and now a new character had no face. You remembered his laugh though. It was sweet, slow. Like a lullaby. You recalled being held to his chest and feeling the vibrations.

You wished you remembered your dad. 

Sarah had settled in quickly, at least that’s what you thought. She was happy to be around people other than her mom (you tried not to internalise it all that much).

In the week since you arrived Sarah had grown attached to the strangers that took you under their wing. You still weren’t so sure. But when Sarah made grabby hands to the older man and all she got was a dejected smile in response a part of you hurt. You didn’t understand why.

They’d kept their distance or rather he had. Ellie came round every day. She loved Sarah. She loved you, even if, like Joel, you were a little rough around the edges.

But for a reason unbeknownst to you Joel couldn’t be in a room with you for longer than five minutes. You didn’t let it bother you too much. You couldn’t. You didn’t want to make trouble and get the pair of you kicked out or worse separated. 

Ellie had come to you earlier that day, smile wide, cheeks rosy. She had a glint in her eyes, a plan. One you really didn’t want to know about nor be a part of.

Excitedly, she told you about the couple who lived across from her and Joel - his brother. Tommy and Maria and the somewhat new addition of Lily, their little girl. Ellie had told them about you - although missing out some of the major minor details. They agreed to have you over she had said. And despite the age difference between Lily and Sarah the older girl was excited to meet her.

So, there you stood, Sarah shielded from the cold into your chest. You raised your hand awkwardly, knocking a little harder than you expected.

A woman opened the door. She was beautiful, smiley, friendly. You couldn’t tell if that was a façade or not. That made the nerves in your stomach stiffen. “C’mon in, sweetheart,” Maria ushered you inside after she confirmed it was you.

You forced a smile for her, “Nice place.”

Maria nodded, looking around the room proudly, “Thank you.” She urged you to take a seat, letting you know her husband, Tommy, was just dressing Lily.

“So, you’re younger than I thought you would be,” She confessed, “Not to be rude or anything.”

“No, it’s okay,” You cleared your throat, sitting opposite her, Sarah making a home on your lap, “I’m 27.”

“Wow,” She smiled, “And what about her?”

You stroked the top of Sarah’s head, where her hair had slightly begun to grow, “Couple weeks now.”

Maria shifted ever so slightly in her seat, unspoken sympathy in her eyes, “And the father?” You stilled, escaping her gaze you looked towards the coffee table, taking inventory of the odd books they had. “I’m sorry,” She spoke quietly, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“N-no,” You cleared your throat sheepishly, “There isn’t... her dad did what he had to.” You still remembered his screams.

“I’m sorry,” Maria frowned, hands soothing over her jeans, wishing Tommy would appear to aid the situation.

“Don’t be,” You said earnestly, “He got us here, right? One way or another...” Maria wasn’t sure you really meant that. The lost look in your eyes told her what she needed to know. As did your shaking knee. You’d give anything to have him back. She bit her lip, somewhat guessing the rest.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” A males voice cut through the tension, “Wouldn’t stop squirming for the life of me.”

Maria chuckled opening her arms to grab Lily, introducing you as she did. He blanched hearing that name. He near screamed seeing that face - your face but so much different, so much more mature.

Tommy blinked a few times, wondering if his eyes were deceiving him. He whispered your name carefully, as if you were a wild animal, prone for violence.

Maria gave him an odd look, moving Lily over to you and Sarah. “And this is our sweetheart, Lily,” She told you as Lily began fussing relentlessly in her arms, desperate to touch the baby.

“Baby,” She cooed.

“Yeah, that’s right,” You mused, croakily, inching closer to the pair, “This is Sarah, Lily.”

Tommy wanted to throw up. He felt it dancing up his throat, teasing his uncertainty. He felt stuck. He truthfully didn’t know what to do or what to say. Should he straight out ask you? You didn’t seem to recognise him though. Maybe it was a clone? A doppelgänger? Should he run over to Joel’s for safety away from this confusion? 

Joel.

Did Joel know? He had to know. He needed to know.

“Tommy what’s wrong?” Maria called to him. He choked a little, eyes trailing over to the plaque that watched over their new life. The plaque he knew had no place for your name. He knew it. You were here.

Maria followed his gaze, a weird feeling in her chest as she saw her husband so unlike himself. She read Joel’s daughter’s name. Sarah. Was he freaked out because they shared the same name?

She gulped - it wasn’t just the baby whose name was shared but yours too it seemed. You couldn’t be, right? No- You died. Joel was so sure you died and despite all Tommy had told her, all the hope he had for you, she always found herself on Joel’s side. Funny that. Any other situation she would’ve made a point to oppose the eldest Miller.

But now... You were just five. You couldn’t have survived on your own. You wouldn’t have had a life in this world.

But again, hadn’t you said you were 27?

“Go,” She told him, firmly, “Make sure.” Tommy nodded, failing to hide his tears as you watched in confusion and darted out of the room with a sense of urgency that unsettled your stomach.

“Is everything okay?”

Maria’s attention snapped back to you, “Fine... everything’s fine.”

A disconcerting feeling swam under your skin and a sudden resolve to flee hit you. “I- We should probably go,” You mumbled, bringing Sarah to your chest once more.

“Wait, please,” She attempted, “Just wait.”

You shook your head, apologising softly before rushing out of the house. You caught eyes with two men across the road - Joel and Tommy. They stood on his porch, seemingly arguing with each other.

You spotted Ellie watching through the window, a guilty look on her face - what had she done?

The brothers stared at you as you left the home. Their eyes didn’t leave you for a second. Tommy called your name, desperately but when he moved to catch up with you, Joel pulled him back.

He clenched his jaw as you rushed back to your home, out of sight. “She was my niece, Joel,” He scowled, “My fuckin’ family too.”

Joel shook his head, shaking off the shame Tommy was trying to force on him.

“You don’t get to keep this kind of thing from me,” He yelled, “You- You are unbelievable, Joel.”

“Unbelievable?” He mocked, “Is it so unbelievable that I didn’t want to advertise to the whole goddamn town that she was my daughter when, hell, I don’t even know if she really is!”

“Bullshit,” Tommy spat, “You’re not stupid. You knew. Of course, you fucking knew. You knew like how I knew. One look. That’s all it woulda took you. No… you knew. You were just too scared - like always. And that, your selfishness, takes us all down with you.”

“Fuck you,” He grunted, storming back inside.

“Christ,” Tommy mumbled, turning back to his own home. 

You had a baby.

You were here, alive.

x

You steered clear from the group for a little while afterwards. The whole situation made you heart clench. It felt like a game that you didn’t know the rules of, but they did. All of them did and they were careful not to reveal anything. But you wanted to know - you needed to.

You knew it involved Joel or at least you felt like it had to. The way he looked at you when you first met. The way he spoke. The way he shook. It had to be him. He had to be the answer.

You gave up on your attempts to avoid them when you came to that realisation.

The same realisation that brought you here, at his front door in the middle of the night. You shyly knocked a few times - no response. You repeated the action with a little more force, a little too much. The door creaked open on the contact, but no one came to greet you.

You sucked in a harsh breath as you debated entering. The door was open right? Fair game? Silently you forced yourself to step inside.

Their home was dark - one lamp lighting a whole room. You frowned looking over to it. Someone had to be here, right? Where else would they be so late?

And then you saw him. Joel. The contradictory man. He was asleep. His body was sprawled all over the couch, an empty bottle of God knows what lay beside him as did what looked like... a bear?

Shakily, you took a step forward, his name dying in your throat as you saw the bear in a better light.

It was... yours.

Why would Joel have your bear? The bear that when you were a child was essentially an extension of you. The bear that chased away all the bad dreams. The bear that your dad had gotten you - your dad.

You gulped - the bear you hadn’t seen since the night you lost everything. Since the night you almost lost your life.

Joel shifted in his sleep, pulling the bear close to his chest, careful of its head as if it was a baby. Your eyes burned. A gasp escaped your lips. You could read the chapter now. You can see that character’s face - your fathers face.

Different but the same.

“D-dad,” You whispered before you could stop yourself and backed away.

Your back met the door, slamming it shut. The man jolted awake, alarmed eyes frantically searching the room before landing on you. They grew small, weaker, like he wasn’t all the way there.

Joel watched you closely, taking note of your falling tears, he spoke your name. You choked on a sob, hand clasping over your mouth. “Baby,” He shot up before he had a moment to think and approached you.

You didn’t flinch away, like he expected. You didn’t stop crying either. You studied him now. The wrinkles. The scars. The grey hairs. The same look in his eyes.

“How long have you known?”

He flinched at that. Your voice so familiar, so broken. “Since we met,” He didn’t have to try too hard to understand what you were getting at. He felt shameful, though. This shouldn’t have been the way, right? This felt too casual, too unknown.

You wanted to ask more, yell at him. Beg him to tell you why it wasn’t the first thing that he told you. But you didn’t. Instead you put one foot in front of the other, until you were mere inches from him. “Dad,” You shuddered.

He hadn’t realised how much he missed being called that, how much he missed being your dad.

“Babygirl,” He took your face in his hands, “My baby grown up.” He watched you closely, tears welling up, “I’m so sorry, babygirl. I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, slamming yourself into his chest, “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“Oh, baby,” Joel wrapped his arms around you, hand cradling the back of your head.

“With me, babygirl,” He smiled for moment before letting it fall, “Don’t go away again, babygirl, never go away again.”

You smiled into his chest, whimpering softly, “I won’t, dad, I promise.” 

x

@meli-blacky @zaweashtonslover @3zae-zae3 @bbciwp @cloudroomblog @white-wolf-buckaroo​ @iguessweallcrazyithinktho​ @myboyfriendisbigfoot​ @mell-bell​ @hummusxx​ @sleepdeprived-barelyalive​ @dilfsaremyfavourite​ @specialagentmonkey​ @slutforstark @lizlil​ @unsaiduglywords​ @ellaprime7​ @aphrcdites​ @zynbsblog​ @imonmykneessir​ @mandowhatnow​ @tomorrowseverything @livelovemusic0996 @icarusthefoolish​ @b-bloop @leemirna​ @hexaecana​ @littleshadow17​ @sgt-morgan​ @adorreeabbie @abbiesxox​ @leviackrmnss​ @eternallyvenus​ @hai-kbai​ @daydreamerblues​ @abbyrxx12-blog @montenegroisr​ @chxosunbound​ @shqwqrma​ @littlemissporter @wonwoosthetic @riri53 @softsakusas​ @prettysbliss​ @katiemars @kik51199 @stupidthoughtsinwriting​ @ellele19 @newavenger @19891213​ @dgraysonss​

[cntloup]

Fem!Reader

Simon saves you from some creeps

Price's version

Simon would not hesitate to beat them up right on the spot.

Usually he would shield your eyes and take you away from the scene of violence if you ever come to face one.

But the moment he sets eyes on some creep getting too close and making you uncomfortable, he sees red.

He drags him away from you and throws him on the ground, then crouches down and starts beating the shit out of him.

You sob and wail, begging him to stop, but not for the sake of the fucking loser who made the mistake of touching Simon Riley's princess, to hell with him.

But for Simon's sake. Even though you know deep down this is nothing to him. He's done far worse than this.

But you still wouldn't want him to go into all that trouble or hurt himself for you.

Amidst the sound of throwing punches mixed with your yells, when the bloody prick is nearly unconscious, Simon finally comes to his senses by the sound of your voice.

He gets up and grabs the car keys from his pocket, then hands them to you and tells you to go sit in the car and wait for him to take care of the mess.

And you take them with shaky hands, looking at him through glossy and dazed eyes, 'ok' you breathe out and turn to leave, feeling dizzy and light-headed from all that happened before your eyes.

Simon walks back and grabs the creep's bloody jaw and makes him beg for mercy, shouting and spitting in his face.

And of course the fucking creep starts begging right after his whole life flashes before his eyes.

But there is no mercy from Simon's wrath, his bloodshot eyes throwing flaming daggers at the poor bastard as he knocks him the fuck off with one final brutal punch to the face.

And he comes back to you after he thoroughly cleans up his hands, not wanting to touch you with the dirty blood still lingering on his skin.

'You ok, dove?' he asks, sitting on the driver's seat and taking your hand in his.

'I-I'm fine. Are you... ok?' you ask, always holding a deep concern for his well-being as he does for yours.

'Yeah' he responds with a light chuckle, 'I'm alright, love. No need to worry about me.'

And he holds your hand all throughout the drive back home while reassuring you and promising that he will always protect his girl.

[hecateslore]

💗🎀

You and Papa!Simon being nervous nelly's

“Jesus christ.” you mutter as you get up from bed. Your baby in the other room, screaming her head off. Simon was laid out on the mattress, snoring like a dump truck. 

You walk into the baby’s room and adjust the lighting in her room, the pastel colored lamp lighting up the room just enough. 

You grab her from the crib, feeling her forehead and back. She was feeling sick all day, boogers running out of her nose, having coughing fits. It was hectic. Simon had to suction boogers out of her nose because you were too squeamish to do it. 

You sit on the rocking chair you barely used anymore. “What’s the matter honey?” you say adjusting her in your arms, Her loud cries quieting down, “I know you don’t feel good.” you coo at her, “I need to find your thermometer.” you say as you rock back and forth, mostly reminding yourself. 

“What happened?” Simon stood in the darkness, sleep very evident in his voice. “She’s burning up.” you inform him, feeling your daughter's cheeks with the back of your hand. “Want to go to the hospital?” he asks, walking into her room. 

“Come here, mum.” He reaches for the baby, grabbing her he does the same, feeling her back her cheeks, even checking her ears and the bottom of her feet. “Did you take her temperature?” He questions, bouncing her.  “I can’t find it.” 

Your daughter lets out another wail, “I don’t like the sound of that,” Simon warns, “You and me both.” you answer annoyed, “Well have you been checking?” 

“Obviously, Simon.” You huff, another ear piercing wail left your baby’s mouth, Simon tries his best to soothe her, “She’s really hot,” Simon warns you again, “Simon, I know!” you snap, “I’m looking and you’re not helping.” 

“Take her,” he places the baby on your chest, forcing you to hold her. “I told you she wasn’t feeling well all day.” He rants while emptying each dresser, looking for the thermometer, “And you said it was just boogers.” He accuses you, you only roll your eyes. The baby screaming her head off, Simon looks at you and shakes his head, “we’re going to the doctor, put some clothes on.” He grabs the baby from you, taking her to the living room. 

You get dressed in a hurry, stealing a pair of Simon's sweats and his hoodie, “Where’s her jacket?” He asks. You slide your shoes on, “Take a blanket, better for her to cool down instead of overheat.” You say. He only nods, moving quickly, your baby mewling from discomfort. “Daddy’s sorry.” he says as he puts his shoes on, kissing her cheek he hands her off, “Grab her.” He puts a hoodie on, and grabs his wallet and the keys. 

-

The car ride is quiet, You sat in the backseat with the baby feeling her face, and trying to cheer her up. Simon glances at you in the mirror a couple of times, your eyes were glossy, like you’d been crying. He can hear the soft voice you use to talk to your babygirl. 

You guys arrive at the emergency, “ I thought we were going to the clinic?” You ask, while pulling the blanket over your baby’s head, “No.” Is all he says. 

-

“Novalynn Riley?” 

You and Simon both perk up, You got her to calm down, and eventually she fell asleep in your arms. You and Simon barely spoke to each other. You could see his nerves, the way his leg was bouncing, biting the skin of his lip, huffing every two minutes.

When they finish examining your baby, they tell you to wait for the pediatrician. “Do you think they’re gonna have to admit her?” You worry, “Dunno.” he answers, his tone very annoyed. Your baby was only in her pamper, her honey blonde curls stuck to her forehead slightly. 

Your eyes water, while you watch your baby. Simon sighs at your state, he walks over to where you're sitting and pulls you into his side rubbing your arm. “She’s fine.” 

“She doesn’t look like it.” You whine, “She’s gonna be okay.” He sighs again. 

[eagerbby]

ʙᴏᴏ? - ᴇ.ᴍ

pairing| Eddie Munson x female reader

synopsis| It was supposed to be a joke, payback, revenge, until it spiraled completely out of control. Just your luck.

an| inspired by the prompt "I hid in your closet to scare you as a joke but when you came in you started masturbating and I can't just get up and leave but if I get caught in your closet you'll think I'm a pervert I regret my life choices" from here. my brainrot is thriving.

warnings| 3k, masturbating (m), reader being a perv obvi, illusions to sex, 18+ folks

part 2

It escalated quickly; too quickly to even process what you were doing, and what you were doing wasn’t even a good idea to begin with, but it was the only thing you could think of. 

The Hellfire Club was currently in the midst of a rather heated prank war, started of course by their relentless leader himself, and you had slowly been dragged into the cruel web he had begun to weave three weeks ago. 

It was annoying at first, Eddie jump scaring you every chance he could. Jumping out from behind the cafeteria doors, slamming his hand against the locker next to yours while you were in deep thought digging through your own locker, or four days ago when he hid in the backseat of your car only to reveal himself once you’d hit five over the speed limit on the main road home; you almost crashed your car that day because of him. 

He was a menace and although the other guys had it much worse than you, Eddie seemed to take more pleasure from simply spooking you. But at least it wasn’t shaving cream in your book bag like poor Gareth or when he stole the chains off Mike and Dustin’s bikes before school ended leaving them stranded -although he did give them a ride home after they got down and praised King Eddie- in hindsight you were getting off pretty easy in comparison.

But still, that last prank got to you, the seriousness of almost wrecking had scared you shitless. Enough that you had to pull over on the side of the road, trying not to break down in front of him. He had felt bad, you could see it on his face as he tumbled into the front seat and begged you to not cry, but you were just so mad you kicked him out of your car and drove off.

That’s how your little plan came to fruition. You skipped your last period just to make sure you’d beat him to his cozy little trailer on the outskirts of town, greeting his uncle Wayne as you ducked under his arm and into the living room. 

“Whatcha doin’, kiddo?” He asked, blue eyes narrowed in amusement. 

“Gonna scare the shit outta your devious little shit of a nephew.” You say simply as you fill a glass with cold water from the tap. 

Wayne catches the wild glint in your eye, the mirror image of the one his nephew harbors in his own big brown ones. The older man could only shake his head, muted blue eyes dancing with amusement as he said..

“Give him hell, dollface.” Before he’s headed down the porch steps to his beat up Chevy truck. 

Which brings you to right now, stuffed tight in Eddie’s messy closet, the fake fur of his creepy Alf costume tickling the back of your neck, your heart thudding loudly in your chest when you finally hear the loud wail of metal and the screeching of tires against gravel. 

There isn’t much to your plan here other than jump out and make him scream. Make him regret fucking with you so hard the past three weeks. You’ve been giving him the cold shoulder since you both almost died -he’s lucky you had just got your brakes changed, a week earlier and you both would have been seriously hurt- which meant he wouldn’t be expecting your revenge, instead thinking you were still pissed. Which you kinda were, but he didn’t make it easy. He’d been groveling nonstop since it happened, bringing you little presents in hopes you’d forgive him, and you had but you still wanted revenge.

You hear him as he bounds up the steps, humming to himself, he slings the front door open followed by the sound of the lock clicking in place. Your fingers tremble in anticipation, adrenaline bleeding heavily from your pores. It’s unbearably stuffy in his little closet, sweat beading on your forehead and between your breasts, and the only light comes from a crack in the sliding door giving you a full view of his mirror. You can see him in its reflection, coming down the hall with his wild hair bouncing around his shoulders, eyes locked onto the cassette in his hands. 

He enters his cramped bedroom and goes straight to his tape deck, the pink tip of his tongue trapped between plush lips as he stuffs the tape in and hits play, surprisingly turning the sound to a reasonable volume. As the music softly spills from the speakers he shrugs out of his denim vest and jacket combo, pulling his black tattered Iron Maiden shirt with the sleeves haphazardly cut off over his head. As he tosses it to the floor, the lyrics of the song he’s skipped to floods your ears. You know this song, love this song, fuck, you showed him this song. He’s humming along to it as he kicks off his sneakers, shimmies out of his black ripped jeans, calloused fingertips gliding gently down his soft tummy into the waistband of his boxers. 

Okay, what the fuck. You clamp your eyes shut before you can see too much. This is absolutely, positively, not part of your plan. His bed springs groan as the lyrics echo around his room and you sit in his closet with your hands over your eyes trying not to breathe too loud. 

Let's get away, just for one day,

Let me see you stripped down to the bone.

It was your Depeche Mode cassette, the one you’d lost a couple weeks ago and tore your room and car apart in a frenzy to find. You never did and now you know why; because you dear friend Eddie had stolen it.

Fuck this, you think to yourself as you raise off your feet in the cramped space. You’re about to bust out, ask him why he sat there and listened to you whine for days about your missing tape knowing full well he had it, when you hear something that makes your body freeze. 

It’s soft, gentle as a breeze, but loud enough to still hear over the song playing from his speakers. A moan, shaky and almost desperate, and you can’t help when you peek out the slit of the door and catch sight of him in the mirror. Your mouth goes dry, eyes so wide they must be bugging out of your head, you’re looking into a mirror except you can’t see yourself, no, but you can see him and the sight is fucking beautiful. 

Eddie’s laid out long ways across his bed, bare feet planted on the shag carpet just a couple feet from your hiding spot in the closet, his eyes are closed and his fist is wrapped tightly around the head of his cock. 

“O-oh f-fuuck.” He whines, thumb dragging across his weeping slit, smearing the precum that beads there across the red mushroom head of his rather thick cock. Jesus, you had shamefully imagined what he was packing under those tight pants he always wore, usually alone at night in your bed, but never did you think you’d actually see it. Especially not like this. 

Oh, this is wrong, so fucking wrong. You shouldn’t be here right now watching him thrust up slowly into his cock, shouldn’t lick your lips as he roams his hands over his bare chest, his fingers tweaking a nipple making his cock visibly twitch at the sensation. You shouldn’t be wet between your legs, squeezing your thighs together as best you can without moving much or making any noise. This is perverted, sick and twisted, a complete violation of Eddie’s privacy, but what are you supposed to do? You should have jumped out as soon as he came in, should have stopped him as soon as he got his shirt off, but instead you stayed frozen in place among Eddie’s clothes and now it was too late. You couldn’t just cover your eyes and leave, no that’d be horrifying for the both of you. Which left only one option; wait for him to finish and hope to a God you weren’t sure you believed in that he leaves right after. 

But that’s also a problem because you can’t not hear the pretty moans that fall from his lips. Can’t ignore the way the bed frame creaks as his hips pick up a steady pace. Can’t stop looking into that stupid fucking mirror and biting your lip at the sight of him completely lost in his pleasure. 

You are so going to hell.

“Oh, fuck, baby. J-just like that.” 

Your pussy floods at just the mere sound of his voice, clouded with lust and his impending orgasm. You can see how close he is, his tummy flexing hard as his hand fucks his cock faster. He isn’t gentle with himself, not like before, fucking his fist with fast sloppy thrusts of his hips as he presses his head back into his ruffled sheets. You can’t peel your eyes from him, can’t stop the constant squeeze of your thighs as your body begs for some kind of friction. And you definitely can’t stop the looming thought that if you get caught Eddie will probably never talk to you again. 

You wouldn’t blame him. 

There’s a new song playing but you can’t really hear it, aren’t even paying attention, not when Eddie shifts up to lean on one elbow to watch himself work. He gasps at a rather rough flick of his wrist, biting his lip as his eyes flutter closed, his long black lashes dancing across his pale skin. You’re trying so hard to stay quiet, watching intently through the mirror. 

You watched porn before but this, this was better than anything you’ve ever seen, and if you weren’t such a coward -and if you weren’t hiding in his fucking closet- you’d fall to your knees in front of him. Beg him to come all over your face, down your throat, in your tight pussy. You’d find your filthiest words, bat your eyes all innocent, drag your nails over his hairy thighs, just to see him cum. To watch his face scrunch up and mouth fall slack as he painted you all pretty in his hot seed. 

Yeah, if you didn’t get caught -and probably still if you did- you were so using the sight of your best friend fucking his fist to get off later. 

Maybe you were a pervert after all. 

Eddie’s moans are getting louder, hot breathy noises falling from his bitten lips, he’s visibly having a hard time keeping his eyes open, obviously lost in whatever scenario he is conjuring up behind his eyes. Your hands were gripping the fabric of your skirt as tight as you can, trying your best to restrain from shoving your hand underneath and thrusting your finger deep inside your tight, wanting, hole. His fingers would feel so much better, long and thin, you know they must be talented considering how good he is with a guitar. All this thinking has your chest heaving, hands shaking, breathing slowly in and out of your nose. You can feel your willpower slipping away, gone without a trace, you need him to hurry up. There’s no way you’re gonna be able to handle this much longer. 

But then Eddie says something so out of left field, so far from anything you’ve ever heard come from his mouth, that your brain completely malfunctions. 

“Just like that, y/n. I wanna be inside you so bad, baby.” It’s all a tangled whine, your name a quivered pant, and you gasp so loudly you make yourself jump, backing up deep into his closet as you watch his head spring up. 

Silence. Horrible, retched, silence as you cover your mouth with a shaky hand and close your now watery eyes. He heard you, you know it, and now all the heat and blood have left your aching core to wash over the apples of your cheeks. Hot like lava, the embarrassment of being caught doing something so wrong makes your eyes water. 

He’s never gonna speak to you again. 

There’s a click as the tape deck stops and then the drag of his closet door sliding open and you want to drop dead where you stand. 

“Y/n” Eddie asks, all quiet and gravelly, arousal still heavy in his throat. You can’t look at him, can’t dare raise your eyes away from your feet. 

“Boo?” Out of all the things you wanted to say, that was the only word to come out, soft as a whisper.

“W-What are you doing?” Good question, you think. What the fuck are you doing? 

“It’s not what you think.” You say quickly with a dark humorless chuckle, eyes bouncing to his before you completely fucking regret it and lower them back to the floor. He looks too good right now with his pupils blown wide and a sheen of sweat on his bewildered face. “I was go-gonna get you back for scaring me so much, but then you started…” You gesture your hand in the direction of his cock, braving a quick glimpse before slamming your eyes shut. He’s still naked, standing in front of you with a pillow covering his bare waist, and it’s just too much. 

“How much d-did you hear?” He asks softly, shuffling from foot to foot as he scratches the back of his neck. His nervous tick. 

“Uhm, well, not… not a lot…” It’s kinda comical how unbelievable you sound and Eddie must think so too because he huffs out a laugh as he backs up to his bed, plopping down on the side of it and adjusting his pillow shield.

“So you heard everything then. Fucking fantastic.” You step out of the closet finally, shuffling quietly against the carpet as you close the door back and face him, hands clasped together in front of your chest.

“Are- Do you hate me now, Eds?” You ask, perturbed, fiddling with the black and red yarn bracelet around your wrist. The same one Eddie wore; a friendship bracelet he’d given to you after the first time you’d hung out one on one.  

Eddie seems puzzled by your question, going to stand before he quickly realizes he’s only wearing a pillow. “Wait a second, will ya?” He asks and you nod covering your eyes as if you hadn’t just been watching him jerk off. When he's done, presumably getting dressed, he taps your elbow and when you don’t uncover your face, he grips your forearms softly and guides them away. He offers you a friendly smile when you meet his doe eyes. 

“I don’t hate you.” He says softly, the heat of his fingers leave goosebumps on your skin.

“I would.” You mumble, shifting from one foot to the other. 

“I thought you were mad at me?” He asks, trying to catch your eye but you’re too busy counting the tears in your worn out converse. 

“M not mad. I just wanted to get you back.” You offer and out of the corner of your eye you can see him nod. 

“Glad you’re not mad still.” He says and then, “How’d you get in, sweetheart?” 

“Wayne let me in, before he left. I skipped last period to get here before you. I swear, Eddie, I only wanted to jump scare you like you’ve been doing to me for the past month, I-I didn’t- I didn’t know what to do when you started..” 

“Hey,” He chirps, grabbing your chin between his thumb and index finger, and you try not to think about where that hand just was because if you do you’re gonna start thinking about the sounds he made while it was wrapped tight around his- no stop it. 

Even in the middle of the most embarrassing conversation you’ve ever had, your thoughts betray you with images of his hot, rock hard, cock. 

“It’s no biggie, really. I should have figured something was up, Wayne never leaves the door unlocked.” He’s fucking smiling at you now, a full smile that shows his teeth and crinkles the corners of his eyes and for some reason unknown to you; it really irritates you.

“No biggie?” You cry, pushing him away from you, and his face falls but you can’t handle him being so close to you right now. “You just caught me spying on you while you jerked off, but it’s no biggie?”

“Yeah, no biggie. No big deal.” Eddie draws out his words, hand rolling in the air as he elaborates. “I’m not mad at you. No biggie.” 

“Eddie, I feel like such a perv-” You start, eyes still watery with shame, but Eddie cuts you off. 

“You literally watched me jerk my dick while thinking about you, I think we’re both falling pretty hard on the pervert line here, sweetheart.”

You look him in the eye, finally, trying to judge if he truly means what he says. You find honesty, and something else you can’t quite decipher, with his gaze locked onto you and you nod and give him an unsteady smile before sinking onto the edge of his bed. 

“‘M sorry.” You tell him. “Really.” 

Eddie shakes his head, sitting down next to you in only his boxers, and places a hand on your bare knee. That fire surges again, deep in your bones, shooting through you like a bullet at the small contact.

“Don’t be sorry. I’m no worse for wear because of it. Kinda-” He trails off for a moment, reaches back to scratch at his neck again. “Kinda hot thinking about you watching me without me even knowing.” 

Oh. Oh. 

You really should have figured he’d be into it. Little freak. 

“Was kinda hot watching you…” You offer shyly, biting your lip as Eddie beams at you.

“Yeah?” He asks, his nose scrunching up all cutely as his cheeks flush.

“Mhm, you know I’ve had a crush on you since, like, forever right?” 

“Okay, don’t fuck with me like that.” He warns, umber eyes searching your smiling face. 

“Not lying.” It’s simple, matter of fact. Eddie blushes even deeper. 

“Well, fuck.” He runs a hand over his face, unable to wipe the cheesy smile from his lips. “I guess I don’t have to tell you I feel the same, huh?” 

You laugh at this, leaning your head onto his bare shoulder. “No, I think I got the message in technicolor. You could put the porn industry to shame, Eddie.” 

“You’re gonna give me a big head, sweetheart.” 

“You already have one, Eddie.” You say, eyes falling to his lap. 

Eddie chokes out a laugh in disbelief, shoving you back onto the bed to hover over you. 

“You’re a little minx, aren’t you? Who woulda thought.” He teases with his face buried in your neck, lips ghosting across the sensitive skin there. 

“Don’t you have Hellfire Club or something, you horn dog?” You ask acerbically and yet you still push your hips up to meet his when he bites down on your jugular. 

“Mhm, they can wait. Found something better than playing D&D in a cluttered theater room.” He hums against you, lips following the curve of your jaw with feather light kisses. 

“The guys would kill me if I was the reason you didn’t finish the campaign tonight.” You push him back by the shoulders smiling up at him as he watches you giggle at the sight of his bangs lifted up off his forehead. 

“I can always just kill them all, they’ll be more mad about that.” He dives back to your neck, sucking and licking every inch of skin he can find, and as much as you want to stay here in his bed and fuck like bunnies; you’d hate to be the reason he was late. So you push him again, harder this time, until he rolls off you with a groan, slamming his fists into the mattress as you stand. 

“You know I never got to cum, right? I’m aching right now, need you to help take my pain away, baby.” He’s pouting, lips jutted out, eyes like a puppy, and everything in you is screaming to give in to his guilt trip, help this poor helpless man out. 

But that wouldn’t be any fun. So you lean over him, hands on either side of his head, and kiss him slowly. Mold your lips against his, drag your teeth sensually over his bottom lip, give him the most sultry look you can muster. It must work because his whole body shudders under your, desperate hands snaking up your skirt to grab your ass.

“Go to Hellfire, Eddie.” He groans at your words in disappointment, head falling back into his sheets. 

“You’re mean.” He whines, slapping his hand firmly onto your ass cheek. You hiss at the pain that ebbs to pleasure and take his jaw in your hand, forcing him to look at you again. 

“You didn’t let me finish. Go to Hellfire and maybe, just maybe, I’ll give you a helping hand after.” You lean down, tongue grazing the shell of his ear before whispering, “A helping hand, an open mouth, a tight wet pussy.” 

Another shiver and his hand gripping tight on the back of your neck pulling you up so you can see his wicked, lopsided, grin.

“That’s not helping my little problem, baby.”

You giggle. “There’s nothing little about your problem, Eds.” 

Eddie groans loudly, covering his face with the back of his arm but you’re swatting it away, giggling at his fiery red cheeks. You shower his face with kisses, every inch of rosy skin, until he's pulling you into his chest and caressing the edge of your jaw as he gazes at you with stars in his eyes.  

The look in his eyes tells you your friendship is no longer that, instead there's a promise lying in his shimmering irises, something that was always there but you could never figure out the meaning to it. Maybe you were always destined to be more than friends, maybe this crazy -fucking bizarre- series of events was fated. You and Eddie, not as friends but as something more. Maybe the two of you were written in the fucking stars or something. 

You’d like to find out.

So you kiss him once more, different than before, savoring the way he follows after your lips, how he cradles your head so tenderly as he kisses you back with the same fervor. Too soon you’re climbing off of him, smoothing out the pleats of your black checkered skirt as he watches with that endearing little pout. 

“Lets go, Dungeon Master, the masses await thee.” He takes your outstretched hand, raising to his feet. He looks down at himself, in only his green boxers, and smiles at you all cheekily. 

“Think they’d still respect me if I showed up like this?” 

You pick his jeans up off the floor and place them in his hands. “Mm, probably not. But I’ll help you get undressed later, like I said, helping hand and all.” 

“Fuck, my little minx.” 

[en-ternity]

⋅ GENRES: strangers to lovers & summer romance; angst, fluff & smut

⋅ PAIRING: street racer!Heeseung x fem!reader

⋅ WORD COUNT: 26.8K

⋅ WARNINGS: illegal street racing (oh, really?!); mentions of alcohol, implied driving while drunk; a fight scene, mentions of blood and bruises; Heeseung is flirty and it’s a concerning warning; skinny dipping; unprotected sex multiple times

                  TRACK 01 OF TAKE MY HAND

Heeseung had never believed in love, at least not the real thing — not the capable of awakening his soul and bringing peace to his mind type of love.

It happened to other people, in other places, but not to him in the small county of Hongcheon. Yet, it did.

In the summer of his twenty-four years, you came into his life, and from the moment he saw you, he knew he was gone — heart on the flatline.

Lee Heeseung wasn’t the type of person to obey the speed limits. He maybe once was, but after so many years in the race, he had become too impatient for it.

He liked the speed. He liked how the sound of the engine muffled his heartbeats, the way the gear stick felt familiar against the palm of his hand, and above all — he liked how, even if for just a few moments, he was capable of being free from everything.

If someone ever dared to take the road up the hills, it wouldn’t be hard to find him there — beneath the scorching sun and leaving only the idea of the memory of his black BMW as he raced through.

And it hadn’t been different on that first afternoon of summer.

Heeseung stepped on the brakes, raising a trail of smoke as the car squealed through the asphalt before coming to a stop. It didn’t take long until Jake followed suit, pulling beside him with his showy Camaro. However, the breeze barely had time to heal from all the racing noises before Heeseung shot the car forward and back, causing Jake to laugh loudly. Both of them, connoisseurs of the street races, knew Heeseung was inciting another race, even though they had just finished one.

“We have to head back,” Jake shouted. “Or else we are going to be late and Jungwon is going to be mad — I don’t like it when Jungwon is mad.”

The clock of the BMW showed precisely half past six, and the town was right beneath them. If they followed the speed limits they would arrive just on time, but if they didn’t — the possibilities were infinite.

“To the town’s entrance then?” Heeseung asked, making Jake laugh once again.

“Just down the hill,” he agreed. “It's summer and the highways are going to be full.”

“Deal.”

Jake stepped on the gas pedal, making the Camaro wail with no previous warning. It was a glorious car — with its capacity, Heeseung always thought it was an almost equal competitor to his BMW M4, but Jake always messed up the shift from the fourth to the fifth gear. It doesn’t matter how many times he raced, Jake always lost the precious second between them, and Heeseung always used it to blow by.

Through the rearview mirror, Heeseung saw Jake laughing at the already lost competition, but he didn’t hold to it for too long. Between a turn and another, Hongcheon spread beyond him, the beautiful town embroiled in the middle of a steady chain of hills and a sparkling river. The sky was an ideal shade of orange above it all, with not a single cloud to shade the late sunset.

The summer of his twenty-four years was beginning, although Heeseung didn’t know what it truly meant — yet.

                                      ┈┈┈┈

When you agreed to join your family on their annual summer trips after years of fully dedicating yourself to the university. You surely didn’t expect your first night away would be so university-like.

Your parents had chosen Hongcheon as the destination, a stunning and peaceful county just one hour away from Seoul. With a rented house on the hill and a back garden the size of a park, you expected a lay-down vacation — full of ice teas and watching sunsets on the back porch. Perhaps it would have been if the county wasn’t as well Hayoung’s hometown, your cousin and friendly guide as she entitled herself while she pulled you out of the front doors and into the summer night.

By the time you arrived at the house of whoever her colleague and party hostess was, the place was already full to its end, the strum of a low bass blasting through the opened door, and the interior heavy with the smell of alcohol, cigarettes, and too many damp skins.

“Hayoung!” someone screamed above the loud music.

The stranger stopped before both of you, his lazy smile and unfocused eyes only advising he was already wavering between the states of soberness and drunkenness.

“Who’s that?” he asked, pointing at you with the tip of his beer.

“Y/N, my cousin.”

“Lovely, I didn’t know you had one,” he said. You furrowed your eyebrow at that, a perfect mirror of your cousin’s reaction. If there was something to say, you didn’t know what it could be, and neither did Hayoung as she preferred to change the topic.

“Have you seen Sunhae?”

“Rooftop with that Jungwon guy of hers and his friends.”

“Thanks,” she said, fingers already curling around your elbow and guiding you away.

Everything that happened from the front hall to the rooftop was forgotten before the next step was taken. People stopped Hayoung to greet her and asked who you were in confusion. You shouted your name at strangers, and they shouted theirs back, both ends pretending it would be something they would keep and remember for more than a couple of seconds. A woman pressed two bottles of soju into your palms, the only thing you would have truly appreciated in the meantime if they clearly hadn’t been opened and were already missing a few sips when she did. You preferred to abandon them somewhere within the stairs.

Hayoung opened the rooftop door, gesturing for you to go in first, and when you did, immediately Hongcheon’s summer shrouded you. The music became just an echo through your feet and the darkness of the interior was taken by string lights hanging on the wooden beans. You had to blink a few times to get used to it, and only then you saw Sunhae, that Jungwon guy of hers, and his friends — the four of them focused on a dartboard poorly placed in one of the beams.

Sunhae was the first one to notice you, running to your cousin and briefly hugging her before she turned to you.

“Hi, I am Sunhae,” she said, her tone so cheerful that it was difficult to not feel welcomed. “Hayoung’s roommate in the university dorms, but you probably know it.”

“I do,” you smiled. “I am Y/N.”

“Oh, I know,” Sunhae laughed. “But those guys probably don’t know you and you probably don’t know those guys.”

“The smallest black-haired one is Jungwon,” she started. However, she didn’t need to finish her sentence for you to know it — not only because the stranger at the front hall called Jungwon hers, but because as soon as her eyes landed on him, it glinted. The silliest yet most honest indication of being in love. “My boyfriend.”

“The silvered-haired one is—”

“I am Jake,” he said, turning to you and extending his hand. “Jungwon’s roommate in the university dorms.”

He seemed so eager to share his role in Jungwon’s life that you couldn’t help but laugh at it, soft and airy, allowing the sound to blend in with the breeze.

“Y/N,” you said, taking his hand and shaking it.

As you looked at the last of them, he was already watching you. And there’s no way it hadn’t been something crafted inside of your mind, but for a brief moment, time seemed to have stopped. Ranging a little bit so, many years later, when that night became just a memory of your youth days, you would still remember how despite the warm weather he wore a leather jacket, a plain black t-shirt, and a silver necklace that glinted almost as much as his eyes beneath the summer sky.

“I am Heeseung,” he said, moving his gaze at Jake for a brief second before he turned back to you, smiling. “I don’t think I have something special to state.”

His accent didn’t escape you. You had already noticed the difference between Seoul and Gangwon residents, the way people from the province rolled the vowels and cut the end of the phrases making it hastened, but if anything, it only made his voice warmer.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said. Heeseung extended his hand at you. It was a little bit too late for the greeting but you took it anyway, allowing him to fold his fingers around yours.

“Are you good with darts?” he asked.

“Darts? I think I can make my way through it.”

“Great,” Heeseung said. “I don’t want to lose and Jake is terrible at it, so you are my new partner.”

When you didn’t oppose it, he used your connected hands to pull you to him, and suddenly he was so close and the air stuffy. He smelled like the summer nights, like the brisk breeze of the county, like peonies, but as well as the leather of his jacket, and something that you remembered from the day your father taught you how to drive, the smokey scent when you couldn’t pull the car up the hill and forced the engine to its maximum.

“Should we bet?” Sunhae suggested. “We always bet.”

“Drinks?”

“Boring,” she paused, just for a brief moment before her face lighted up as if she had been struck with a great idea. “The carnival always needs volunteers.”

“It doesn’t seem bad,” Hayoung said.

“To operate the tents, but the losing team should volunteer to wear the sheep costume and hand the flyers.”

You laughed at the absurd, and Heeseung’s eyes landed back on you again, his eyebrows lifted as amusement rushed through his face almost too fast to be noticed.

“Are you fine with this?” he asked.

“We aren’t going to lose, are we?” you asked instead, and his eyes glinted playfully at you.

“No.”

“So I am fine,”

“Do the honors, princess,” he said, extending one of the darts.

The nickname tingled through your body, making heat grow into your cheeks. Yet, Heeseung didn’t realize what he had said until a second later when your hand hung above the extended dart for a heartbeat more, but if anything, his smile widened.

Hayoung decided to be just a watcher together with Jake, making it you and Heeseung against Jungwon and Sunhae.

As the night went on and the party began to wind down on the floors below, you thought the bet had long been forgotten until Jake called everyone’s attention.

“Last round before we run out,” he announced. “Y/N has to score more than thirty points to have a direct win.”

“Excuse me? How much?” you demanded, making him laugh at your uneasiness.

“Thirty,” he repeated, enjoyment rushing through each pronounced letter. “or else you give an opportunity to Jungwon and Sunhae to win and Heeseung is wearing a sheep costume — not that I am hoping for it.”

You looked at Heeseung, uncertainties swaying your gaze. He hesitated only for a moment before he stepped behind you, one of his hands slightly resting on your waist as the other folded around your hand, positioning it.

“It’s her turn,” Jake protested.

“The dart is in her hand,” Heeseung replied with mischief.

Your head turned to him, drawing out a question. However, his breath brushed through your lips, the bitterness of the beer he had been drinking reaching through your tongue almost as if you were the one drinking it, and you allow it to slip and slide away, everything on you focusing on the small pressure of his fingertips on your skin.

“I am holding it for you,” he whispered, voice winding through your hair. Heeseung moved both of your hands, and you looked forward in time to see the dart sticking precisely at the center of the dartboard.

Jungwon screamed, abandoning the dart he wouldn’t have any opportunity to use on the table before he took Sunhae’s hand and rushed to the rooftop door. Jake laughed, following behind, and then you understood that it was their thing. Jake meant it when he said to run out. It was their way to leave and your chest ached to see this inner thing of theirs.

Hayoung stepped past you, a gentle smile traversing her lips before she as well rushed through the door, leaving it open for you and Heeseung.

There was a small pause, a small gap in time as he reached for the top of your head, threading his fingers through your hair as he gave a soft and quick pat.

“Thank you for saving me from the sheep costume,” he said, all mischief and teasing as he stepped back. You prepared yourself to hear him leaving too, the sound of his steps echoing together with the now turned-down music, but he didn’t walk away. Heeseung just stayed still, waiting for you to look at him so he could slightly tip his head at the door.

He led you downstairs, and when someone stumbled on you, he took your hand in his, pulling you close to him and shielding you from the party still going through the corridors until you are out into the warm summer night again. The stars hung so low in the sky, none of you really could tell if it was too late or too early.

“Can I drive you home?” he asked.

“With all due respect, I don’t trust drivers like you, Lee,” Hayoung interrupted. “And you have drunk too much, I am taking my cousin back home safely.”

“Fair,” Heeseung exhaled, looking at where your cousin stood. For an instant he faltered, his shoulders tightened as if he suddenly was carrying some weight. However, when he turned back to you, it was gone, he was smiling again. “Am I seeing you at the carnival?”

“Yes.”

His thumb brushed softly against the back of your hand before he let it go.

“Until then, princess.”

Hongcheon was unbelievably warmer than Seoul. The sun had long disappeared through the horizon, yet remnants of the summer heat still lingered in the breeze, caressing your skin with a certain overprotective tenderness as you stood in the middle of the carnival.

You immediately could tell the place had some story with the county. The food carts were old in a lovely way, the tint faded with the number of years of the sun setting on them.

Heeseung was the first one to notice you lagging behind, head turning to everything but the group. You had already collected your picture of Jungwon in sheep costume, but even as you did it, you seemed distracted.

His hand met your elbow, startling you for a second before you noticed it was him.

“Distract much?” he smiled. “Are you alright?”

You exhaled, and the Ferris wheel spilling its mechanical music together with the coin-toss machines stole the sound of it.

“Sunhae made fun of me when I said it.”

“Sunhae would make fun of the world’s end,” he said. “Tell me, what’s it?”

“I have never been to a carnival and my mouth is watering to taste those toffee apples.”

“Toffee apples?” Heeseung asked, but there was no judgment in his words. Although he kept his smile, he didn’t laugh like Sunhae, he didn’t murmur city people beneath his breath like Hayoung. Heeseung simply looked between you and the toffee apple cart, his eyebrow raised before he held his hand at you. “I would prefer you telling me you never had snow cones or corn hot dogs, but fine.”

“I have never tried those too,” you said, placing your hand in his.

“And never rode bumped cars or a carousel?”

“Never.”

“We should do it in the proper way then,” he said, slightly leaning into your direction. You brightened at it, and he knew even though it seemed like a silly program, there was nothing he should rather do tonight.

He guided you through the crowd, hand clasp against yours. The line for the toffee apples was small, but the bumper cars seemed enormous just like all the other attractions, and Heeseung started an ask game. You liked the way he did it. It was more that he genuinely wanted to know about you instead of the polite questions to prevent a conversation from ending. But only when you were on the top of the Ferris wheel, summer breeze musing your hair in a way only the county’s warmth could manage, did he break the question he wondered the most.

“You really never went to a carnival?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Why so? There aren’t any carnivals in Seoul?”

“There are,” you said. “There was one in the same avenue of my middle school actually, it’s just a thing of mine. My parents never had much time to do those types of things when I was younger, they were just starting their business, and because of—”

“Well, I never had real friends during this period, they always wanted something from me. They invited themselves to my house, but it was because of the things I had and not because of me.”

“So somehow I was always too lonely to go. Of course, I had other friends during high school and I do have friends in University, but things are different,” you explained. “So yes, I never went to a carnival.”

When you finished, Heeseung had been silent for so long that you thought he had zoned out — leaving you to talk to the furor of the place.

But you looked at him, and he was there — staring at you with the oddest expression someone had ever turned on you. The deliberately unnerving, otherworldly stare that lasted several more seconds than was comfortable for two strangers who aren’t really strangers anymore, and your cheeks grew warmer. You were not sure why you decided to tell him about your life like this, you had met him just a few days previously. But it was summer, the season when people do things they would never think of, it was late at night, the world so warm that it felt safe to let secrets be spilled in the wind, and Heeseung — he felt safe too.

He leaned in, and his eyes flickered beneath the night, mischief glinting as if he wanted to tell you the most beautiful thing he had ever known.

“It sucks,” he said, however, and you laughed at this, head thrown back, the sound so carefree and soft it was impossible for him to not smile back at you.

He reached for the bar behind your shoulders, coming so close you didn’t only hear the next words, but you felt them rushing through your skin.

“But if you ever decide to binge all the attractions of a carnival again, or if you feel like doing anything you couldn’t — I am here,” he said, reaching for the top of your head, his fingers threaded through your hair as he gave the same soft and quick pat he did on the night of the party.

                                      ┈┈┈┈

There was something special about the night, an unfathomable pleasure in even the tiniest things.

By the time Heeseung and you left the Ferris wheels, the crowd was still far from thinning and the night far from giving away. Laughter filled every single gush of breeze together with the summer heat.

The only place left was the coin-toss machine to binge all the carnival attractions, and Heeseung immediately guided you there, fingers twinned on yours, he didn’t seem to want to let you go, and you didn’t mind it.

“How does it work?” you asked, taking him to the machine which caught your attention. It didn’t have a claw like the conventional ones, and the prizes stood on shelves — all of them way more expensive than stuffed animals.

“You select the number of the prize you want,” Heeseung explained. “Then you use the hammer to hit this handle here.”

He had to speak loudly for you to hear him beneath the sounds of the machines, something he thought to be inconvenient, so he inclined his head, his lips just centimeters apart from your ear before he continued.

“Based on the strength you used it will give you a number, if it’s the same number as the prize you selected, you win.”

“Seems rigged,” you said, turning to look at him. “But I want to try.”

Heeseung stared down at you, amused eyes shining beneath the colorful lights from the toss-coin machines.

“Ok,” he exhaled. “What prize do you want?”

“The analog camera,” you said, a single finger prodding the smudged plexiglass.

Heeseung was fast on taking off a coin from the pocket of his jeans, tossing it inside the machine and allowing it to glow, the music turning even louder. You watched as he fumbled through the buttons, putting in the number for the analog camera.

“Do the honors, princess,” he said, handing you the hammer.

However, when you hit the handle the number landed far from the desired one. Your lips curled in discontentment, and although Heeseung thought your expression was the cutest thing he had seen during his twenty-four years of living, there was a certain urge in him to make it disappear.

“Let me try,” he said, taking his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans and putting a few of the spare coins he had in.

You handed him the hammer a second before the machine shone again, the mechanical music turning a bit louder to indicate it was ready for another failed try.

“Definitely rigged,” he exhaled. But again and again, Heeseung seized the wallet from the back pocket of his jeans, counted his coins, and inserted it in the machine. On the fourth time, he got tired of the whole process and simply asked you to hold the wallet for him.

Two couples waited behind and you smiled apologetically at them before you turned back at Heeseung.

“Heeseung, it’s ok — it’s forming a line.”

It was the first time you had ever said his name, and it caught him off guard. Not only because of your accent, but coming from your lips, it sounded soft and slow, almost as if you had stolen it and made it all yours.

“One more time,” he asked. “Just one more time.”

When he hit the handle again, you inclined yourself to his side, an innocent act for a better view of the changing numbers, but suddenly you were so close, and your perfume attained so strongly on his lungs that it felt more intimate than it. For a few seconds, Heeseung stayed still, unconsciously allowing his thoughts to slip away as he remained, once again, completely lost in the sense of you.

At the party, he thought you smelled like sunlight, like the spring flowers, and everything about warmth, but no, it was sweeter than that. Like sugar in the air, like a promise.

Your breath brushed through the exposed skin of his neck, leaving goosebumps on its wake and he barely noticed the numbers moving and reaching the exact digit for the analog camera.

“You did it.” you gasped, your hand reaching for his almost unconsciously. “Oh my, you did it.”

His gaze fell over you and he smiled — truly smiled. Heeseung grinned like a boy. The innocent act reflected through his eyes for a moment before he bent in and took the camera box and extended it for you.

“You should keep it,” you said. “It was all your perseverance.”

“It’s yours,” he replied. His delight was almost palpable.

“Come on,” one of the women behind said. “Take that box and give your boyfriend a thank you kiss.”

She had the same hasted accent as the Gangwon’s residents, and it took you a heartbeat longer to make sense of what she had said, but when you did, you immediately could feel the heat growing into your cheeks.

“He is not— he is not my—” you started, looking back at Heeseung, but he only held your gaze steadily. His eyes still sparkling with the echoes of his laugh and you let everything go with a single hitch of breath.

He reached for your hand again, the gesture already rushing through your skin with a familiarity that made your heart ache. He guided you away from the machines, yet the furor of the place was still high and wild, almost muffing his question when it finally came out.

“Can I kiss you?”

Heeseung didn’t seem the type of person to falter easily, but you could swear he was on the verge of it. He moved continuously through your silence, fingers tickling on yours, a shoulder twitched. He shook his head, just slightly, as if he was fixing his bangs, but it was just an attempt to hide the shyness in him.

You didn’t notice you had been holding your breath until a second later, when you felt your lungs loosening with the single word of confirmation you managed to utter.

You looked up at him and the carnival lights gilded your skin, holding you so preciously beneath the dark sky that Heeseung started to have second thoughts.

The moment seemed to take forever, it seemed to take no time at all. Your simple yes unfolded within the summer breeze slowly, blending together with the echoes of the night as he leaned in, reaching for you — his lips hovered just a few inches from yours as if he was checking if you would regret and move away. However, when you didn’t, he kissed you, his lips touching yours just for a second.

Heeseung pulled back, and the glittering carnival dazed both of you. Everything about the place invaded your senses for a quiet moment before he leaned in and kissed you again, this time with more feelings than thoughts. He slid a hand behind your neck, angling your head up and making your lips part for him.

Of course, you had been kissed before. However, never that way. Heeseung wanted to relish it, feeling you through each passing second of your connected lips. He did not want to let it go, memorizing you through each heartbeat as he just grazed his mouth against yours, catching his breath before he kissed you again and again.

You felt a laugh forming in the deep of your chest, but when it rolled out of your lips, preventing Heeseung from kissing you, he wasn’t annoyed at it. He just laughed back at you and you were so lost on him, and in the sound of it, that it took you a while to notice it was the very first time you were hearing him do such a thing.

“Can I drive you home?” he asked. “I promise I haven’t drank anything today.”

                                      ┈┈┈┈

The first time you had ever seen a BMW coupé had been during the summer of your first year in high school. Your father had thought it was a nice thing to take you and your mother to a car show, or perhaps he just wanted to go and pretended to genuinely think it was a nice plan. Anyway, you still remember how he followed the air around the car with the palm of his hands, the closed roof, and the fine lines of the only two doors of the gray BMW before turning to you.

“Should I buy it?” he had asked, making your mother grunt. It was a playboy’s car from her point of view, made for trouble and disorder.

And that was exactly Heeseung’s car.

The BMW M4 had been parked outside the carnival field, the street lamp sparkling through the black tint of the car. You manage to control your laugh for most of the way to your rented house, but when Heeseung stopped at a traffic light, the roar of the engine being the only audible thing through the night you couldn’t help but let it escape.

“What’s this?” Heeseung asked, slightly turning to look at you. The red light turned his hair copper, and maybe it had been because you are still high on sugar and him, maybe it had been because you had already shared too much with Heeseung, but you told him about that summer afternoon too.

“So you are telling me, your mother wouldn’t approve me?” he asked, a hint of tease in his tone. You doubted Heeseung worried about what your mother would think seeing him park the BMW in front of the house, yet still, your mind faltered.

“I-” you started.

But you were saved by a car coming beside the BMW. The sudden sound of tires squealing stormed through the once quiet street, but instead of pulling and staying still, the car kept shooting forward and falling back.

“What’s he doing?” you asked.

Heeseung didn’t reply to you, his hand had tensed above the gear stick, and he looked away, ahead to the road.

When the traffic lights turned green the other car blew by, a flash of white paint in the middle of the night.

“He wanted to incite a race,” Heeseung whispered. Your lips parted, not sure if it was for a genuine surprise or if your subconscious meant to say something, but Heeseung seemed unnerved and you let it slip and slide as he drove away.

                                      ┈┈┈┈

“Heeseung?” you called, in the same soft way, allowing it to echo through the interior of the BMW. He looked at you, just for a second taking in how your eyes were squinting as you looked through the lens at him before the analog camera flash came off.

“Do you know how to use it?”

“I hope so,” you said. “Imagine me using the whole film to find out I did it wrongly.”

Heeseung hummed at that, the sound coming so softly. He had parked in front of your rented house for minutes now, but you didn’t attempt to leave and he didn’t attempt to make you do.

“Thank you for tonight, and the camera,” you said.

Heeseung could feel the way the night was ending without a single promise of tomorrow. A full period instead of a break, and he disliked the thought.

“I want to see you again,” he whispered.

“I want you to see me again too.”

A laugh escaped from his lips, unintentionally too happy as he reached for his phone on the console and handed it to you. You took it without a second thought, typing away your number and when you handed it back to him, you leaned in, catching his bottom lips with yours. It wasn’t the same kiss he had given you in the carnival, lips touching just for a bare second — it was longer yet just teasing, before Heeseung could hold you, you had gone. You had slipped out of his reach and his car, rushing through the garden of the house and the front porch.

Heeseung couldn’t help but laugh at your doing, tilting his head at the window, he looked up at the sky. At Hongcheon there were never enough streetlights to obliterate the stars completely, and for the first time in a long while, his breath came easily beneath all of this.

Heeseung had been a stranger on that first night of summer. He had been a confidante at the carnival. However, you had no idea who he was on the streets.

This part of Hongcheon was endlessly flat in comparison to the rest of the county. Meanwhile where you have been taking residence was built in the middle of emerald hills, this place was spread out over flat and dried fields.

You were aware it was somewhere at the outskirts of the county, so you weren’t surprised when the modest avenue ended on a highway. What surprised you was that instead of the normal traffic, a line of cars had been parked on the sides, their noses pointing at the middle of the highway, headlights illuminating what the streetlights couldn’t.

People circulated everywhere — around the cars, above the cars. Their cheers seemed to pierce through the closed windows.

For some long seconds, you thought Sunhae had indicated the wrong turn and Hayoung would make her way back through the road. But instead, she kept going, finding a place to park in the long line.

A few meters ahead two cars loomed, their speeds being nowhere near the legal limits as they passed by you and drifted a few meters ahead, tires squealing and leaving angry marks on the asphalt.

“What—” You started with an exasperated slowness. “Is this?”

“An illegal race?” Sunhae replied.

“And what are we doing here?”

Hayoung and Sunhae exchanged a knowing look above the gearshift, and no one needed to be a genius to know they were silently talking with each other.

“We came to watch?” Sunhae said. It had been an affirmation, but the way her voice raised at the end subtly turned the period into a question mark.

You felt your body turning cold. It wasn’t like you had prepared yourself to watch a street race when you had woken up that morning. It wasn’t like you had prepared yourself to participate in something illegal when you entered Hayoung’s car that night. She had messaged you telling you to be ready at nine and that was simply what you had done. Pretty dress, high heels, and pins on your hair.

As if she thought about the same thing, your cousin met your gaze through the rearview mirror.

“I can take you home,” she said.

“It’s alright,” you whispered, and although it carried all your uncertainty, it was enough to make them both leave after a single harsh breath, gathering in front of the car’s hood.

“Jungwon— he casually races,” Sunhae said as you joined them. It was so loud outside that she had to incline herself to speak to you. “Jake too, so you know—”

Hayoung slapped her arm to shut her up. However, you had already seen him, or rather his car — the black BMW spun through the highway, raising a trail of smoke before it lushly parked along the cars at what you judged to be the starting line.

Your breath shuddered out of you. The breeze subtly echoed beneath all the noises as Heeseung climbed out of the car and joined Jake and Jungwon in the small circle of racers.

There was something unfamiliar about him — something ferocious, noisy, and unsettled. This wasn’t the Heeseung you had met at the party, much less the Heeseung who had led you through the carnival with his hand curled on yours. This was the Heeseung who fit the BMW, the leather jacket, and the mischievous grin. This was a Heeseung you weren’t sure you knew who he was.

Heeseung had been smiling at everyone, but he faltered when he spotted you. He had this inconvenient feeling that he had stopped in time. His surroundings kept going, blistering in the loud engines and cheers, but he was stuck on how you were there, suddenly seeing this tainted part of him.

He didn’t remember taking the decision to move. He only knew he did, giving one step in your direction before Jake held his arm.

“Later,” he said, like a reminder. And Heeseung forced himself to retract, to place his bet along with the rest of the racers, forcing himself to hear about the course he knew all too well. He forced himself to walk to his BMW and turn the key.

He eased his foot off the clutch, pressing down on the gas he managed to hold the car in check. The engine was alive beneath him, the sound quelling his heartbeats as he reached for the gear stick. He closed his eyes at the familiarity of the moment, but as soon as the darkness welcomed him, you were there again — burning like sunlight.

He turned his focus back to the streets in time to see the light switching, the red turning into green and without any prelude, the car burst from the starting line. The street lights flickered and flared above him.

Heeseung knew this place well enough to not need to think before exchanging the gears, he just kept in mind he needed to come back faster than ever.

                                      ┈┈┈┈

“I will take the awkward exchange of looks as a confirmation that Heeseung didn’t tell you about all of this,” Hayoung said, taking your attention from the highway ahead. The racing cars had already disappeared into the distance, leaving only the idea of the memory behind.

“He didn’t,” you admitted. “It’s not something you can say to someone you don’t know, right?”

“Well, I agree,” she said. “But you are my cousin, he knows me, and he has stuck on you since the party, he should have—”

“It’s alright,” you replied.

You knew Hayoung wasn’t the type of person to give up easily on a discussion, so the moment she opened her mouth to say something more, you turned away, taking in the furor of the place. The cheers had eased, for a great part, but everything was so loud still with the sound of those car’s engines.

“How long does it take?” you asked.

“Not much, they just take the next return and come back here.”

It didn’t take long at all.

The familiar BMW was the first one to pass the finish line. However, Heeseung didn’t slow, he didn’t even look back as he won the race. His car only came to a full stop once he was in front of you — the driver’s door being hardly pushed as the headlights kept flickering through the night.

“Please, let’s talk,” he said, his gaze meeting you as if there were no one else in his eyes sight.

Hayoung reached for you, squeezing your arms as if she was attempting to give you assurance.

“It’s fine,” you said, meeting her gaze. “Sunhae is probably staying with Jungwon, are you alright with driving back alone?”

“Of course,” she replied. “I came thinking it was how my night was ending,”

“Just fasten your seatbelt, and hold on tight, I still don’t trust them on a wheel.”

When you turned back at Heeseung, he had already walked toward you, causing you to bump into him. His hands immediately found your waist, preventing you from tripping. But even as you stood completely still, he continued holding you, his fingers coming up and down through the bodice of your dress.

“Princess,” he said. It almost didn’t sound like a call, but a plea. A longing where it was supposed to have just the tease you were already used to.

“Alright, let’s talk.”

Heeseung guided you to his car, one of his hands sliding to the small of your back as he opened the passenger door for you, waiting for you to slip in before he closed it with a soft slam.

The drive was surprisingly quiet. Heeseung hadn’t spoken the whole way back, he just stayed there —  occasionally brushing his gaze towards you as if with a single moment he hadn’t checked on you, you would disappear without a trace. Only when you had reached the town did he speak, but it had been so soft it almost got lost in the breeze before you could even clasp them.

“Is it ok if I take you further into the hills?”

“Yes, of course.”

Heeseung drove into the hills, passing the entrance to your rented house without a second look and going further onto bendy roads that all of a sudden spread on an open field. The town shone beyond it all.

“A few years ago they were going to build a dozen houses like your rented one,” he said, stepping on the parking brake. “They prepared the field but for some reason, they gave up on it.”

“I come here with Jake and Jungwon a lot to — race.”

And that was it, the breaking word.

Heeseung slid his hands through the wheel, slowly bringing them into his lap before he decided to rest it above the gear stick.

“I am not used to telling people about it.”

“I can understand why, genuinely” you said. “So you don’t have to tell me anything that you aren’t comfortable with.”

“I wanted to,” he said. “At the party, I thought of asking if you wanted to go watch the race. At the carnival, I thought of telling you,”

“But you are so—” his gaze encountered you, taking in your whole being before he stopped, letting the words slip and slid away with a single hitch of breath. He couldn’t simply tell he thought you shone like a heart of gold. It was foolish, cringe even. So Heeseung stayed silent, turning back to the town and watching it spread beyond both of you, the interlocked pattern of colored lights.

It made a strange image of him, he seemed so grandiose mirroring all those lights that it somehow made him frail. And it suddenly occurred to you how Heeseung was good at only allowing people to see what he wanted them to. He wanted everyone to see him as confident, bright — ferocious during the races and you wondered what it meant that he allowed you to see through the fissures.

His shoulders tightened as if he suddenly was carrying some weight — whatever he was about to tell you, it was something he had been keeping for himself for years.

You reached for him, palm resting above the back of his hand on the gear stick.

“My parents studied their whole lives together,” Heeseung started, the words leaving his lips clumsy and strangely by the unused of being said. “They started dating during high school and my mother got pregnant not long after their graduation. But there was the thing — they are too young and my mother knew it.”

“Although she tried to endure it, someday she simply couldn’t anymore and left.”

You hadn’t noticed your grip above his hand had tightened until you felt Heeseung shifting beneath your touch, turning his palm to you and slowly interlacing your fingers.

“I am so sorry.”

“It’s alright, honestly,” he replied. “It’s not like I remember much of her — and I grew up well with my grandma and father.”

“A few years ago, my father got really sick — after his funeral, I took his car, it was such an old Toyota. I bet it was the first time it ever really raced,” he smiled, but there was an ache in it, a sadness that you could almost reach. He looked at you again, as defenseless he had ever been. “I found the street racing spot by accident. But they said I was good and I kept going.”

“First it was for freedom, but the money became a great necessity after a few months — my grandma couldn’t work, I had to give up on the university.”

“You did what you could,” you whispered. “It’s alright, Heeseung.”

The moment seemed to stretch, seconds feeling like minutes and when you lifted your interlaced hands to your lips, kissing the back of Heeseung’s hand, you didn’t know how long had passed.

“Do you want to race right now?”

“I do.”

“Take me somewhere?” you asked.

                                      ┈┈┈┈

When the BMW reached the town’s outskirts, Heeseung allowed the car to climb in speed, his hand curling familiarly around the gear stick. He never took his eyes off the road, and you saw on his face how much he loved it. The bright and long-acquainted happiness he had with the speed.

Your heart quelled every time Heeseung did a turn, and he reached out, letting go of the wheel and searching for you through the small inches in between.

“I am here,” he said. You pinch his fingers lightly because you knew — and it made the whole difference.

Heeseung only dropped down a few gears near the edges of the county, being caught on the invisible line separating the road from the beach.

You opened the window, allowing a gust of summer air to spread through the car as a laugh escaped from you, unhesitating and unselfconscious. The sky was impossibly clean tonight, making the sea an endless reflection of the stars.

You didn’t ask Heeseung to stop — you didn’t need to. The moment he looked at you, taking a glimpse of your sparkling eyes, and lips tugging with the echoes of your laughter, he just knew it was the right thing to do.

You leaped from the BMW before Heeseung had even turned the engine off, already barefoot and rushing through the white sand as his phone chimed at the console. His grandma probably, Jake or Jungwon, there was no one else, but the problem with having so few people in his life was that he had to pick up.

“Summer is indeed the best season,” Jake said at the other end of the line. “I got the money for you,”

“Do you have any idea how much you made tonight? I am blasted.”

“You said it last week when Daekho exposed how much he got,” Heeseung pointed out, a soft chuckle escaping from him.

“Trust me this time,” Jake said. “I am genuinely blasted. But talking about Daekho, he said he saw you a few nights ago, and you turned down a race — you never turn down a race.”

The sound of your laugh echoed through the night, causing Heeseung to raise his head to you and the view suddenly made him stop, phone still on his ear, mind in the middle of a phrase he would never say.

The moon was barely a quarter of what it could be, but it stood high and bright in the sky, bathing you as if you were something so precious that it decided to shine a little bit more just because of you.

You had walked into the sea, the water hitting your thighs, damping the hem of your dress. The camera he had won for you in the carnival was in your hands pointed at the satellite, and he wondered if you were taking it everywhere. It was something so simple, but it brought a warm sense inside of him.

As if you had felt his burning gaze over you, you turned to him, meeting his gaze through the windshield.

You were already painfully beautiful like this, but the moment you smiled at him — something stirred and moved inside of him.

“Hee?” Jake called by the other end of the line.

“It was on the night of the carnival, Y/N was with me,” he replied. “Jake, listen, I have to hang up, I will call you tomorrow.”

“Are you still with Y/N?”

“Yes.”

“Oh! Have fun, mate.”

Heeseung threw the phone back into the console, taking off his shoes, he followed you down the shore and into the sea, splashing farther into the water until his jeans were damped to his knees.

“Your jeans,” you gasped, but he only shook his head, he could care less about it.

“Are you carrying it everywhere?” he asked. He wasn’t looking at the camera, yet something incited that everything about his actions was about the small object now hanging by the security strip on your wrist.

“Yes.”

For a long and unsettled moment, Heeseung stared at you, his chest heaving with his deep breaths. He took one more step to reach you and suddenly, he was so close and the night so still. All you could feel was the calm rhythm of the sea beneath your feet, the soft hustle of his breath against your skin before a cold wind blew through, sweeping your hair out of the pins and to his cheeks, causing him to lift his hand, twisting the loosened lock between his fingertips before he brushed it behind your ear. It was a ridiculous thing to do. The wind kept blowing through and loosening it, but he didn’t mind doing it again and again. Until he decided to simply hold it, palm resting against your cheek as his fingers twined on your hair.

Heeseung called for you, and your skin tingled beneath the moonlight. No one ever said your name like he did — so slow and deliberate as if he wanted to taste the sound of each letter rolling through his tongue.

You couldn’t help but lean yourself into him, fingertips against his abdomen as you caught his bottom lip with yours. It wasn’t the first time you had given him this soft, teasing, and too-quick kiss. In fact, Heeseung already considered it something of yours, and he had scrutinized this so many times that his hand was fast on moving further into your hair, holding you still.

“I am not letting you slip away tonight,” he whispered.

“I would never,” you huffed. And Heeseung laughed at that, the sound blending with the summer breeze for a short moment before his lips slid over yours easily, perhaps too easily.

When he kissed you at the carnival, there was something of searching and discovering on it, but here — with his thumb caressing the sides of your neck, and your fingers slipping precisely to where his heart thrummed against his chest, it was all knowing. His tongue brushed against your lips, and you opened your mouth for him, letting him slide his tongue over yours. You could feel him groaning, his whole body reacting when you curled your fingers on his t-shirt.

You gasped for air, pulling away. But, Heeseung was still leaning in, eyes closed, lips parted as he followed you through the few inches you created.

“Princess,” he called. “I thought you were not slipping away.”

“Sorry,” you said. However, Heeseung just shook his head in reply, a mischievous grin spreading through his lips as he brought your face back to him, but instead of catching your lips again, he pestered you with quick kisses all over your face.

You laughed, not sure if it was because of his doings or the ticklish feeling of his lips smoothing your whole face. But even to your own ears, you sounded so happy — so happy beneath all of this.

As the night wore on, the temperature dropped and you shivered in the cold, immediately causing Heeseung to shrug his leather jacket off, draping around your shoulders and adjusting it the best way he could despite the difference of size.

It smelled like him. The strong scent of leather blended with car exhaustion, but also the sweet scent of peonies and the brisk breezes of summer nights.

“We should go back,” he said, looking up at the sky. The stars were already starting to low, weakly gleaming through his eyes. “It’s late anyway.”

                                      ┈┈┈┈

“The princess is back in her castle,” Heeseung said, making a chuckle escape from your lips.

However, instead of finding something to reply, you simply reached for your seatbelt, unfastening it a second before your hands curled at the sleeve of his jacket, starting to pull it away.

“It’s alright, give me back another day,” he said.

“Alright,” you whispered. “Thank you for driving me home again — I hope it isn’t out of the way for you.”

“I could lie and say you are worth the trouble just to sound like a nice guy,” Heeseung started, the corner of his lips tugging up. He was fighting a battle with a smile and almost losing it. “I live two streets down from here, a beige house with a brown roof and matching shutters.”

“It seems pretty much like most Hongcheon’s houses,” you replied, slightly leaning to his side of the car, and Heeseung reached for you promptly.

The porch lights were on, gently illuminating your face with little strips of gold. He traced each one of them with the tip of his fingers before he finally gave in and smiled. You were so beautiful, he could die all day and every night just to miss you.

“You are right, but there are remarkable things about it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Heeseung echoed. “You will always hear a culinary program coming from the TV, it will be my grandma in the living room, and the place always smells like something just baked — it is also her.”

“Seems cozy.”

“Also, the garden is full of white flowers — really easy to find,” he continued. “But in any case, the number is two hundred fifteen.”

Just like the whole town, Heeseung’s house was a remnant from the eighties — with its pale walls, brown roof, and matching shutters, it blended in with all the other houses on the street. But as Heeseung described, the house sat in the middle of a garden, the white flowers accompanying you through the whole path from the sidewalk to the front porch. 

The door opened at your first knock, quickly revealing an old lady. It wasn’t necessary to wonder about her — not only because you knew Heeseung lived with his grandmother, but because her appearance was uncannily like his. Although she carried some signs of age on her gray hair, the shiny doe-eyes peering through the curls were there, seeming to be a family thing.

“Good afternoon,” you started, a tentative smile tugging on your lips as you looked at her. “I am Y/N, Heeseung’s-”

“Heeseung!” His grandmother screamed, startling you. “Why there’s such a pretty girl asking for you at my front door?”

Heeseung appeared at the end of the corridor, eyebrows furrowed. He seemed as braced as anyone could be standing barefoot in washed jeans and a white tank top — until his eyes landed on you.

“Y/N,” he called, pronouncing your name with the same deliberate slowness he had on the previous night and making your skin tingle.

In your periphery, Heeseung’s grandmother drifted her gaze between both of you, taking in how Heeseung reached from across the corridor — with his expression smoothed, his eyes were allowed gleam beneath the sunlight and his lips to tug into a smile too genuine to be only politeness.

When he reached the door, she turned around, leaning to his side as if she was about to whisper a great secret to her grandson, but instead, her words were spoken loud enough for both of you to hear.

“Invite her inside,” she said, walking away and leaving both of you a little bit astonished.

“I just came to bring your jacket, I don’t want to bother you.”

“You would never,” he answered. His fingers curled around the door handle, opening it a little wider as he completely ignored how you had extended the jacket at him. But although his actions seemed confident, he slightly inclined his head, shaking it as if to fix his bangs, but you had already seen it enough to know, he was embarrassed.

You brought the jacket back to your chest, hugging it as you stepped inside. Immediately, the comfortable smell of chocolate surrounded the air. Heeseung wasn’t lying when he told you about the never stopping oven, just like he wasn’t lying about the culinary program always on the selected channel of the television. But you wished he had told you about everything else too, so at least, you wouldn’t be so surprised right now.

You had grown up with a meticulous amount of order. The houses you lived in were always spacious, squeaked clean, minimalist even, so you didn’t know how to react as soon as you caught sight of the inside.

It was tiny, even if taken in comparison to the row houses on the outskirts of the county, and was made even smaller with the amount of plants scattered through the corners.

Afternoon sunlight spilled from the back windows of the kitchen, batching everything until it reached the entrance corridor. You couldn’t tell if the warmth came solely from the sun or if it had something to do with the beige walls, the mismatched colorful furniture, and the small chaos only houses built with love are capable of possessing.

Everything felt so cozy and summer-made that you couldn’t imagine a better place to spend the season in.

“Princess,” he called, and you hummed, turning to look at him. However, Heeseung was already bending on a knee, fingers fumbling through the straps of your high heels and removing them, one at a time.

“Now you are ready to go.”

“Thank you.”

Heeseung stood up, bottling out the sunlight with his real height, casting you in the shadow. And if it wasn’t enough to make you coil, the way he reached for you, hands cupping the sides of your neck was.

“You are good at reading between the lines,” he said.

“Am I? Or had you been just insistent?” you asked, making a chuckle escape from Heeseung. It was a soft, almost not there thing, but you could feel it rushing through your cheeks, the hustle of his breaths warming your skin.

Heeseung leaned in, catching your lips with his. It wasn’t his intention to make it fast, but the moment his grip tightened on your skin trying to bring you closer to him, his grandma screamed again, demanding both of you to come to the kitchen.

                                      ┈┈┈┈

The kitchen felt fuller than ever — not that it was a difficult thing, just like the whole house, it was tiny, scarcely giving enough space to three people to walk through, but there was something about having you there that made it full in a different way.

You were polite enough to ask if his grandmother needed help, and his grandmother was amusing enough to allow you, leaving Heeseung to watch from the kitchen table as you learned how to prepare a chocolate tart with an unreasoning smile.

“When Heeseung was younger, chocolate tarts with strawberries were his favorite,” his grandmother told you. “He always asked how would he leave me if I am the only one who knows how to prepare it in the way he likes,”

“But now that I am teaching you, he may leave me and go with you.” she finished, causing Heeseung to choke on the air. However, you only laughed at it, head thrown back. The sun had started to set by that time, sprinkling through the windows in tones of orange and pink, but when it reached you — it was all gold.

He knew his grandmother had said something else, but it sounded a world apart from where he stood. You had looked at him, your laughter had turned into a soft smile and it suddenly made him comprehend why the kitchen felt fuller than ever.

You not only materially filled the place, but you also filled it with warmth and light.

“Hee?” his grandmother called. He hadn’t been paying attention to the conversation for some time now and before he could state it, the house phone rang, saving him from another embarrassment.

He stood up, walking out of the kitchen as you both were just making sense of the phone ringing.

“You and Y/N have mobile phones, you know it, right?” Jungwon asked at the other end of the line.

“What?”

“Y/N was supposed to meet Sunhae and Hayoung in the drive-in cinema, she hasn’t shown up and is not picking up the phone.”

“And how did you figure she is with me?” Heeseung asked, his eyebrows involuntarily furrowing in confusion.

“You didn’t pick up when I called too,” Jungwon sighed. “Just tell her that the girls are waiting inside.”

Jungwon hung up so softly, it took another second for Heeseung to notice he did and another one to let go of it.

“I didn’t realize the time,” you explained, as soon as he was back.

“I can drive you there,” Heeseung said.

“Do you need to leave?” his grandmother asked. “Already?”

“I am supposed to meet my cousin and her friend.”

“It is a shame that it was so fast, but it was lovely to meet you,” his grandmother said, taking your hands in hers. “Please — please, come back.”

Although the moment seemed to be crafted in the warmth of the summer sunset, there was something frantic about the way she was holding you. Heeseung’s grandmother squeezed your hands almost as if she didn’t want you to walk away from her house — almost as if she was afraid you were taking something important together with you. And it took you anew.

You looked at Heeseung in search of answers, but he just returned your gaze as confused as you.

“She surely will, grandma,” Heeseung said, a gentle smile playing at the corners of his lips. However, it only made her squeeze tighten on you, just for a brief second before she let you go.

                                      ┈┈┈┈

By the time Heeseung parked the BMW on the outskirts of the drive-in cinema, the movie had already started, Rachel McAdams dancing beneath the street lights with Ryan Gosling on the big screen. And even though you knew you were late, you stayed still, watching as the scene unfolded.

People had different favorite scenes of The Notebook, the kiss in the rain, perhaps the beach when they said the famous If you are a bird, I am a bird. However, for you, it always had been this one — the real beginning of everything.

Heeseung looked at you, but he didn’t say anything about you being late, and how your cousin was annoyed somewhere inside, if anything he reached for the space behind his seat, taking the same leather jacket you had left in one of his kitchen chairs a few hours previous, and put it on your lap.

“The temperature always drops during the night,” he explained.

“I just gave it back to you.”

“Give it back to me another day.”

You looked up at him, and he smiled. The words had left his lips effectively, even with a note of tease on it, but still carrying a real meaning, Heeseung wanted to see you again tomorrow. And because you wanted to see him again too, you nodded, slipping the jacket through your shoulders.

“Alright,” you agreed.

“Alright?” he echoed, leaning across the gearshift. Heeseung reached for you, his lips finding yours at the same time his fingertips pressed to the side of your neck. You tasted like chocolate and strawberries that night, the sweet delation you had been stealing the ingredients while preparing the tart, and he couldn’t help but smile.

If the whole afternoon hadn’t been homey enough, this — this kiss had been.

“I should go,” you whispered, drawing back, yet you were so close to him still, each word had been a brush against his lips.

“I know,” he replied, with a small sigh. Heeseung was reluctant to pull himself away, but he did, letting you slip from the BMW and walk into the cinema.

You tightened his jacket around your body, tugging the collar up to your mouth. His scent was already starting to fade in, giving space to yours, only when you snuggled your nose on, you could feel the odd combination that Heeseung was. All mischief and sweet, all substantial and soft.

A nearby car left the windows open, the radio connected to the big screen loud and allowing you to hear the exact moment Gena Rowlands asked James Garner:

“Did they fall in love?”

“Yes, they did,” he replied.

Saturday’s nights smelled like car exhaustion and burnt tires, like the leather of Heeseung’s jacket and his peony perfume when he brought you closer to him, lips against yours, fingers threading on your hair. Saturday’s nights were the break of the perfect serenity of Hongcheon, the whispers of the emerald hills turning into the loud sound of the racing cars beneath the street lights.

Heeseung had never missed a race, leaving you behind with Sunhae, Hayoung, and a kiss.

“Be my lucky charm once more, alright?” he always whispered, an amusing smile playing on his lips before you both broke into a laugh.

However, tonight he parked his BMW on the sides of the highway, joining the long line of watchers instead of racers. Heeseung didn’t say anything as he slipped through his door, leaving you to sit still, watching him walking to your side of the car in confusion — on any other night he would open the door for you, intertwine your finger, and take you to where Hayoung and Sunhae waited. But with all the unknown turns, he took you to the front of his car.

He sat on the hood, and it was necessary just an exchange of gazes for him to bring you to his lap. His arms came around your waist, coaxing you to come closer enough to feel his breaths rushing through your skin.

“Are you alright?” you asked. “You always race.”

“Jake and Jungwon had made a bet among themselves, they said I couldn’t join because I win way too much,” he said, leaning on you, his forehead meeting your temple. “Apparently, since I got my lucky charm, I am not letting them have the first place.”

You knew it was just a lie — a tease, Heeseung was one of the favorites before you had even stepped on Hongcheon, but you let him, brushing his nose down to your neck and tickling you with his breath.

A few meters behind, in the middle of the highway, the racers were already in their places, the engines roaring as they held the cars in check. Jungwon had his hand out, pointing at Jake through the opened windows as if to remind him of their secondary bet. If you focused enough, you could almost hear them laughing beneath the furor of the place.

“Did you meet them here?” you asked. “Jake and Jungwon?”

“No, we met at the university,” Heeseung said. “When I dropped out, I think they thought I was slipping away, so they started coming back during weekends to visit, and when I told them about the racing they decided to join,”

“Something for us three to do still.”

“They are good friends.”

“They are,” he agreed. His tone was calm, with the same warmth you were used to, but you could pinch the small longing it carried. Everything Heeseung had given away after his father’s death weighed on him still. You reached for him, fingers spreading beneath the collar of his jacket and t-shirt, finding his bare skin. He shivered at your touch, snuggling his nose a little deeper into you.

“I am very lucky,” Heeseung whispered. “About everyone I have in my life.”

“They are lucky to have you too.”

“Do you think so?”

“I am sure so,” you said, and you didn’t need to look at him to know he was smiling at it.

                                      ┈┈┈┈

Through the weeks you had watched the races, you had never seen Jake win, and perhaps that’s why his reaction had been so amusing to you.

His Camaro squealed through the asphalt, passing the finish line with a lush drift before he came to where you stood together with Heeseung, hurling his window open.

“Let’s go,” he shouted.

“Where?” Heeseung asked.

“Beneath a bridge? The bar? I don’t care!” Jake exclaimed, quickly stealing a laugh from you. “I won and Jungwon is paying for everything tonight!”

The Camaro wailed with no previous warning, disappearing through the highway in a flash and leaving no further choice aside from following him.

The bar made a home on the outskirts of Hongcheon, coming so close to the coast that even at night, you could see how sunlight and bracing breezes had worked on this part of the province.

It held no signs, no shining lights, and the facade had nothing but a worn-out red tint and a black door. It simply was called the bar because—

“What else do you call a bar without a name?” Heeseung asked, opening the door for you.

You knew it had to have a name, but instead of debating you allowed it to slip away with a single shake of your head before you stepped past him.

The interior was darker, blasting in some electronic music, and although there were just a few tables, this late at night people were already too high to prefer to sit still instead of being on the dance floor, leaving a bunch of options for you.

Hayoung sprawled herself on the nearest chair, immediately being followed by Sunhae and Jake.

“I am getting the drinks,” Jungwon announced. “Is everyone getting beer?”

“A coke,” Heeseung said. It didn’t require explanations, but he did anyway, shouting above the loud music. “I have to drive Y/N home.”

“OK, lover boy,” Jake laughed. “Why don’t you help Jungwon get everything?”

With his ears tingling, Heeseung was too embarrassed by the nickname and the situation to oppose, so he just turned around, following Jungwon through the furor of the place.

Jake waited until both of them were far, and completely out of sight before he stood up, just to claim the chair by your side.

“You bewitched him,” he said. “Have been ages since I last saw him like this.”

“Like this?” you echoed.

“I have known Heeseung for four years and something now, so I can tell after his father’s death, smiling and chuckling around — it simply wasn’t him,”

“Also not drinking because he has to drive?” Jake laughed, this time so loudly, you could swear it somehow echoed through the place. “He never once cared about it and by never I mean even before his father,”

“Believe me, Y/N, whatever spell you put on the man — you saved him.”

You blinked at Jake, not knowing what to say. And before you could think about it, Sunhae’s hand met yours from beneath the table, taking your attention.

“I love this song,” she said, dragging you through the crowd and into the dance floor. Everything happened so fast, a lost breath between what Jake had said, Sunhae’s hands clasped on yours, and Hayoung’s laugh because for once she wasn’t the one being forced to the dance.

Sunhae encouraged you too. However, your eyes kept traveling to the table, waiting for Heeseung to come back, to notice your absence and search for you.

You looked at each for seconds too long, his eyes lingering, hands caught in the middle of scattering the drinks through the table.

It was stupid honestly, how whenever he thought he was used to your beauty, you managed to surprise him, standing in a new light and taking him anew. You were bathed in the shine of the red and purple flashing from the fairy lights, eyes sparkling, lips a little bit parted with rescue words ready to slip through. However, you didn’t need to pronounce any of those. Heeseung was already walking towards you, acting as if there was no one else in his eyesight.

He only stopped behind you, hands finding your hips — bringing you close to his chest, aligning your bodies in all the right places. It wasn’t the rescue you were expecting, but you forgot about it the moment his laugh echoed through your body.

It’s not that you doubted Jake, but you couldn’t imagine a Heeseung that didn’t laugh like this. The sound was so perfect that it hurt you to imagine a period in which it never existed.

Heeseung seemed created for this joyful and unconditional happiness.

As he leaned on you, you could feel the ghost of his smile on your skin — his breath brushing through your shoulders before he found the base of your neck with a kiss. You tilted your head back, and Heeseung took the opportunity to trail you with kisses, reaching your earlobe with an exasperated slowness before he pinched the sensitive skin.

“Hey, princess.”

You turned around, pressing your fingertips against his chest. In the middle of the furor of the place, you still could feel the cadence of his heart, the way it hammered against your touch.

“What-” he started, but the rest of his question was cut off — taken by your lips on his. He gasped at your sudden action, yet it was muffed when your tongue slid against his. You were demanding in a way he couldn’t remember you ever being. Your fingers curled on his t-shirt, pulling him closer, and he allowed himself to grip your waist. Your dress was so thin, he could feel your skin beneath it, all warm and his as he ended the small inch you failed to.

He kissed you deeper, a little messier, and a small whine escaped from you.

“Go get a room in the name of lord,” someone screamed, so close it hadn’t left any doubt it was for you and Heeseung.

You both parted, lips swollen from kissing, sucking, and causing you to bury your face in his chest, but Heeseung only laughed — the same joyful and happy sound echoing through your body before he reached for the top of your head, tangling his fingers on your hair as he gave a soft pat.

“I think we can call it a night.”

                                      ┈┈┈┈

It was later than usual when you arrived at the rented house that night, far later than when your parents used to recoil to their room. But when you stepped inside, the lights of the back porch were still on, a faint echo of a conversation coming through the opened door — not only with the two known voices of your parents but with a third one.

“Grandma,” you smiled.

If you weren’t so happy, you would have stopped for a few seconds, taking note of Heeseung’s jacket still hanging on your shoulders and your still a bit swollen lips. You would have taken a moment to compose yourself. But you only rushed through the house, and the back porch, hugging the old lady.

“When did you arrive?” you asked.

“I am pretty sure the sun was still shining, but someone seems really busy this summer to care about answering her phone.”

“Sunghoon has been complaining about it,” your mother added. “Send him a message once in a while — the boy has been wondering about you.”

“I am sorry,” you said, more directed to what your grandmother said than to your mother.

“So please, enlight me,” your grandmother asked, hands traveling through the collar of Heeseung’s jacket, preventing it from slipping away before she pinched your cheeks. “Your parents were telling me, were you with Hayoung or the mysterious guy in the black BMW?”

You gasped, embarrassed and surprised Heeseung had been the topic of their conversation.

“This same car has dropped you here a lot through the last month,” your father pointed. “We were just wondering if we ever going to meet—”

“His name is Heeseung,” you said. “Lee Heeseung.”

“Right, why don’t you invite this Heeseung to lunch on Monday? Some of my friends are coming here.”

The house on the hill had been a dream for any Hongcheon resident. It used to be just an old and abandoned three-story construction until some businessman decided to buy it and renew it to make a summer rented house — then, it became too grandiose for the modest town. All made with white bricks and having Greek columns supporting the roof, it could be called a manor instead. And ever since the first moment, Heeseung wasn’t amused that your family was the one renting the place for the summer.

It fitted you, the class, the grandiose, the evergreen garden that bloomed flowers throughout the whole year. You were made to this, and he would be lying if he ever said it never scared him — he would be lying if he ever said it wasn’t scaring him now.

The driveway was full beneath the summer sun, your father’s black suburban leading a line of parked convertibles and worth-it sedans. Heeseung was glad that at least his BMW fit in the whole scenery because he wasn’t so sure of himself.

As he walked through the driveway, he noticed the front door hung open for anyone to come inside, but there was something about the idea of not having the small break between the knock and the door swinging open that made him anxious, tugging on the sleeves of his dark suit with frantic hands.

He stood there, unsure of what to do, but you came to him, rushing through the living room, white dress swirling dangerously around your thighs before you hugged him.

“You came,” you whispered, words threading through his hair.

Maybe it had been the summer heat, maybe it had been the sweetness of your perfume, and the way you had turned the full force of your joy into his direction. But instead of replying, he just stood still, lost in the sense of you.

Only when you stepped back, he reminded himself. You took sight of him, and your eyes flicked beneath the afternoon sun. You never have seen Heeseung wearing anything that wasn’t a combination of his jeans, shirts, and leather jacket, so the full view of him in a suit and a tie astonished you.

“Is it too much?” he whispered.

It was, it really was, but you were so happy he was there — so happy he cared that you let it all pass with a single shake of the head.

“They settled the lunch in the back garden,” you said. “I am just afraid you will get a heat stroke.”

Heeseung exhaled, a bit too harshly as he slightly inclined his head. But he didn’t need to finish his small rite, shaking his head and pretending to fix his bangs like he always did, you already knew he was embarrassed. So you didn’t say anything as you interrupted him, taking his hands in yours, and guiding him further into the living room. You didn’t say anything as you reached for his shoulders, rushing your hands beneath the heavy suit and removing it.

Heeseung was well aware the piece was cheap, probably the cheapest suit you have ever touched, but still, you folded it with so much care before you placed it over a nearby couch — with so much care, he couldn’t come into peace about what he was supposed to do with himself.

“Princess,” he called, not because he had something to say, but because he thought if he didn’t make something factual, he would fade between a touch and another.

The memories of Saturday were still too vivid and too triggering late at night, and to add something else seemed too much.

You hummed in reply, reaching for his tie, fingers curling on the dark material before you tugged him to your height. When he bent in, your breath brushed through his cheeks, warm, and teasingly.

However, despite the confidence of your actions, your cheeks were rosier than before, an adorable denounce you were a little bit embarrassed too, and that was it — you had broken the spell. Heeseung laughed at you, the pleasant sound echoing through the whole room at the same time the invisible weight he carried on his shoulders was lifted.

“You don’t need to worry about anything, you know?” you whispered. “I am here.”

“I know you are,” he whispered back, spreading his palms on your waist, fingers accidentally tangling on the laces of your dress as he brought you closer.

His nose brushed against yours, and your lips parted, just enough to taste the sweetness of the tea on his breath. Chamomile and honey, his grandmother’s favorite combination to calm any nerves down.

“Now, this is what I call a worth-it movie scene,” your grandma interrupted, making Heeseung step back. “Is this the infamous Lee Heeseung?”

“Yes, grandma,” you said, hurriedly. “This is Heeseung, my-”

You stopped, all at once, mind still stuck on him, and that one never once confirmed word. And perhaps you had been there for so long that your grandmother laughed out loudly, being followed by a more shy and reserved Heeseung.

“Don’t worry about explaining it to me, darling,” she said. “It might be hard to imagine, but I have been this age before.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Heeseung,” she continued.

“Pleasured to meet you too,” Heeseung replied, extending his hand at your grandmother. But she ignored it, preferring to instead, take him in a long and tight hug.

“Now hurry to the back garden! Her parents are asking about you already!”

                                      ┈┈┈┈

“I have a feeling your grandmother would love to meet my grandmother,” Heeseung whispered against your ear. And you laughed at that, soft and genuinely — allowing the sound to blend with the furor of the back garden.

Everything was happening there already. The air was smokey with the marinated meat left on the grill, encircled with the flowers growing on the bushes. Children laughed as they ran through the greenish grass, and adults scattered themselves on the long table, talking above their crystal cups with an enthusiasm that only came from too much happiness, too much alcohol, or both.

And as you took the last steps to the garden, your father approached, a glass of his favorite champagne already hanging in his left hand, as he held your mother’s with the other. He kept his hair slicked back, proudly showing the significantly graying hair at the sides, meanwhile, your mother kept simple but still too lined up. And even if Heeseung hadn’t asked about it, their attire gave away their successful work in business, suddenly making Heeseung more comfortable in his own attire. You had finished removing his tie and rolled his sleeves up, but he was still way too formal for his daily basics.

“It’s great to finally meet you,” your father said, extending his hand at Heeseung. “Y/N has been safekeeping you the whole summer.”

You weren’t sure if your father had said it intending to be funny or to call both of you out, but if anything Heeseung took your father’s hand, shaking it with the best smile he could.

“It’s great to meet you too sir.”

“Please, no sir — we are all family here,” your father said, and your mother smiled, extending her own hand to Heeseung.

“Y/N can guide you through, but feel free here, Heeseung,” your mother said.

A phone chimed in the middle of the conversation, and you immediately recognized it as your dad’s.

“Excuse me,” he asked, taking the device out of his pants back pocket.

“Sunghoon!” your father greeted. Heeseung could notice your switch of emotions, the way you stiffened as your smile disappeared with a hitch of breath. “Oh? Perhaps I overestimated the driveway?”

Another pause.

“Do you see a gate on the right side? I am going to open it up to you, park at the side — no, don’t worry.”

Your parents walked away and Heeseung reached for your hand, pinching you gently, but because he was too respectful he didn’t question the reason behind your reaction. Not even when a brown Range Rover came into view, and Sunghoon left the car like a gush of winter wind, greeting your parents and giving a fine bottle of wine like the old acquaintance he was. Not even when Sunghoon approached you, lips curling on a fond smile, eyes gleaming, not being able to hide the irrational happiness of simply seeing you.

You slipped from Heeseung’s touch, allowing Sunghoon to hug you, and when his arms involved your waist, bringing you tantalizing closer as his lips chased for your temple, something settled inside of Heeseung. Strong enough to make him dizzy, great enough to ache.

He had never considered himself a jealous person, but perhaps he simply never cared about something enough.

Sunghoon not only had the type of face girls in this county would make lines for, but he knew how to wear his money well. His car was impressive, a Range Rover velar with a customized mental brown tint that matched the tone of his silk button-down, and he made a strange image near you, almost too fitting. Almost too perfect.

“Hee, this is Park Sunghoon, son of my father’s business partner,” you said, drawing back. “Also my classmate at University and friend.”

“Lee Heeseung,” Heeseung said, his voice sounding pleasant enough as he extended his right hand at Sunghoon. However, he had stepped past you, pulling himself between you and Sunghoon and making it clear his true feelings.

Your palm met the back of his shoulders almost unconsciously, spreading your fingers and feeling the warmth of the sun beneath the cotton of his shirt.

Sunghoon straightened himself to his full height, but took Heeseung’s hand anyway, shaking it for a brief moment before he turned back to you.

“I have been calling,” Sunghoon said.

“I am sorry, I haven’t been much on the phone lately.”

“I know, your mother told me — what reminds me, I have something for you,” he said. “Please, wait a moment.”

“I-” you started, but Sunghoon was already walking back to his car, opening the door and reaching for something on the passenger seat. You barely had looked at Heeseung, noticing his clenched jaw before Sunghoon was back.

“I heard you have been obsessed with a disposable camera,” he said. “So I bought this while I was in Japan last week, I think something higher quality would be better.”

Sunghoon extended the box to you, and immediately, a gasp escaped from you. The box was completely black, except for the Fujifilm logo and the camera’s name, both of them shining in metallic beneath the afternoon sun. You never had searched much about cameras to be an expert, but you knew enough to comprehend, it was outstanding.

It easily outmatched the camera Heeseung had gotten you on the night of the carnival, and even so — even so, you still preferred Heeseung’s. You liked the analog camera — you liked the retro feeling it had. You liked how your grandma had laughed when you first appeared with it, telling you it looked so old, but this small sudden thought made you realize the reason you kept it safe with you wasn’t because of the item itself, but because of the memories you kept collecting with Heeseung throughout the month.

“Sunghoon, it’s really nice, and I appreciate the thought, but I can’t accept it.”

“Why?” he asked, frowning. Eyebrows brought together, the smile he carried just a second gone, everything on his face giving away he was faltering inside.

Sunghoon had always been unable to hide his emotions, ever since you knew him. Everything was always there, just a sight away.

“I-” you started, tongue almost rolling into the lie that it was too expensive, but what was a few billion won for him? What was a few billion won for your family? He was going to laugh as soon as you finished the phrase.

“I am already content with the camera Heeseung gave me.”

And that was it, you had broken both of them with a single phrase. Heeseung eased beneath your touch at the same time Sunghoon’s lips parted in an exclamation.

There was a small fraction of a second that you thought, Sunghoon was about to say something as he looked between you and Heeseung, but he let it all go, turning to the long table settled in the middle of the garden, and listening to your grandma summoning everyone to eat.

“I am going first,” he said. “I haven’t greeted your grandma and my parents.”

As Sunghoon walked away, Heeseung reached for you, fingers intertwining just to bring you close to his chest.

“You didn’t need to protect the camera so fiercely.”

“It wasn’t the camera,” you said, and he smiled down at you because he knew.

                                      ┈┈┈┈

At the table, everything seemed even more chaotic. Near the extremity, Sunghoon’s father was telling a terrible joke. You smiled, just politely, tightening your grip on Heeseung’s hand as you guided him farther. In the middle, people talked loudly about politics as if it was the most pleasant topic for a summer afternoon. Your head spun just by hearing the names.

You ended up sitting at the other extremity, across from one of your mother’s oldest friends, Mrs. Choi. She smiled easily and talked about her life even more easily. Everything there was to know about her, you have listened at least once, or perhaps twice, not that you considered her a bother. She was someone easy to be with, so when she turned her head at you and smiled, all you could do was smile back.

“Y/N!” she exclaimed. “Exactly the woman I was looking for.”

“Is that so?”

“My niece got into Seoul National University too, she is starting in autumn,” she said. “She is considering moving to the dorms, do you still live there?”

“Oh, no,” you replied. “The dorms are great, but I couldn’t adapt very well to the community kitchen and decided to move to a studio nearby.”

“Is it that bad?”

“No, I just dislike cooking with strangers passing by.”

Mrs. Choi laughed at it for a blissful moment before she turned to Heeseung.

“And you?” she asked. “Do you study with her in Seoul too?”

“No,” you promptly said. “Heeseung — he stays nearby.”

“Oh, and what are you going to do once the summer ends?” she asked. “You two are together, right?”

The question was crafted in mere curiosity, but all at once, you faltered as if you had been verbatim attacked. Your hands fell on the table, fingers too weak to do anything aside from staying there.

Heeseung knocked his knee against yours, a reassuring gesture that he was still with you.

“Seoul is just a couple of hours away,” he said. “Whenever she wants me to — if she wants me to, I would drive anywhere just to see her,”

“There’s no one else in this world like her.”

He spoke it easily behind a glass of iced tea, almost unwittingly, but the words ached within you so wonderfully simple and warm. You wished you could hold them in your palms, keep them between your fingers, just so you could press and feel them whenever you were faltering.

                                      ┈┈┈┈

Aside from Mrs. Choi telling for what you suspected to be the third time about her month-worth trip through Europe. Nothing happened between the main course and the dessert.

Heeseung’s hand had found comfort on your knee, the soft pressure of his thumb drawing tiny circles through your skin as the end of the afternoon approached, the sun lowering into the chain of hills, the sky turning into a vivid orange that only summer sunsets managed to. But only when Mrs. Choi excused herself, saying she wanted to catch the first stars, you allowed yourself to put your hand above Heeseung’s, leaning closer, your cheeks almost touching his so you could whisper.

He didn’t think it would make any difference at all. There were so many things happening still that no one would notice if you screamed at him, but he liked how your perfume was everything he could breathe, all sweet and flowery. He liked how you spoke so closely, almost giving him a taste of the strawberry cocktail you had tried.

“Take me somewhere?” you asked.

Heeseung looked at you. He intended to ask if it would be alright to simply leave like this. However, when your gazes encountered, remnants of sunlight reflected through your eyes, glistening the color with a goldish light that made you feel like part of the sky rather than a material thing and everything he could do was nod, using your already connected hands to pull you up and away, until you had reached his BMW.

He drove you further into the hills with the windows down, and the headlights only illuminating as far as the next turn. He reached for the same open field he had taken you on the night of the first race, but instead of stopping, he kept going, away and away — until you were so far from the town that all you could hear were the soft whispers of the night when he turned the engine off.

It wasn’t quiet, but silent. Something you never had experienced while living in the city.

“Look to the sky,” he asked. And you did, looking up through the window. 

At Hongcheon there were never enough streetlights to obliterate the stars completely, you could always get a glimpse of them, but there, so up through the hills, the stars were so bright they almost formed a river, a stream of light against the dark.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered.

“It really is.”

You turned to look at Heeseung, but he had his gaze already fixed on you, his eyes gleaming, lips curling on a fond smile. He had no embarrassment in letting you know he had been like this for the whole while. And when you reached for him on the gear stick, spreading your palm through the back of his hand, Heeseung promptly moved beneath your touch, turning his palm into yours and intertwining your fingers.

“What are you thinking?” you asked.

Heeseung didn’t reply — not right away, he allowed the question to hang within the seconds, blending with the summer breeze as his gaze lingered on your face a little too long to be incidental before wandering through the sky.

“The day we met, I was racing with Jake,” he said. “I remember looking down on Hongcheon and thinking about how summer was starting,”

“I just had this feeling that something was coming —  something great.”

“Was it?” you asked. “Great?”

“Wonderful,” he whispered.

You leaned across the gearshift. And Heeseung let go of your intertwined hands to cup your face, his fingers preferring to thread through your hair instead, bringing you closer so his lips could graze yours, a new kind of kiss, parted lips that were barely there. 

It was slow in a way you couldn’t remember it ever being — it was lazier in a way that only came with the acknowledgment of something none of you were going to name yet but knew was there.

Heeseung slid his seat all the way back, subtly pulling you to him. The BMW didn’t have the back seats, and it didn’t give much space. But you moved anyway, your knees straddling his hips, your palms pressed to his chest, the soft rhythm of his heartbeats against your touch.

His heart skipped a beat when you slid your hands down on his torso, feeling the warmth the sun had left on his skin before you curled two fingers on the first button of his shirt. But if anything, Heeseung just nodded at you.

You were aware he was watching you, burning you with affection and fondness as he accompanied every move you did to open button after button. Your fingers splayed over the just exposed skin of his chest, brushing through his whole extension until you reached to his neck, threading your fingers in the hair at his nape, and angling him to you. Heeseung shivered beneath your touch, a small growl escaping his lips.

“You are my downfall, but as well my saving, princess,” he whispered. “I hope you know it.”

You caught his bottom lip on yours, once, twice, enough times to feel brave enough to brush your tongue against it, but Heeseung was already on it, sliding his tongue against yours. He kissed you deeper, messier — needier. And if it wasn’t enough to make you whine, when he shifted beneath you, pressing the solid length of himself against you was.

Heeseung cursed when you grind against him, sliding his hands up to your thighs. He never had relished your sundresses as much as he did now, passing the hem of it with no ado, and pinching his fingers on your bare waist. He held you still, lips leaving yours just to find your neck, trailing down to your shoulders with an open mouth and making you shiver despite the heat wrapped around the car.

“If you keep going one more minute — I am gone,” he murmured.

“Hee, please.”

“Please what, princess?”

“I need you.” He chuckled at the way you had said it, all whine, soft and pure.

He pinched you again, just to make sure you were looking at him, but you were — you always had been, cheeks flushed, and eyes a bit too bright, almost making him forget what he was supposed to say.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “I need you to be sure.”

“I am.”

You could hear him swallowing beneath the silence of the night, reaching up on you — brushing his hands through your ribcage, drawing your dress up to your shoulder, and allowing it to fall somewhere over the console.

He barely gave it a moment before his fingertips ran for the clasps of your laced bra, opening it.

“I didn’t think our first time would be in the front seat of my car, but how can I say no to you?” he said, leaning on you. His forehead landed on your collarbone with a gentle thud, drawing the tip of his nose along the swell of your breasts as his hands found your hips, burying his fingers on your skin. “You are so pretty.”

“Did you think about it?” you asked.

He had heard your question, and understood it, but he also had heard the way your breath hitched in surprise because you never thought you had this effect on him, and instead of replying, he pulled one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking it to a solid point and making your back arch. The act alone was so pleasurable, a desperate sound escaped through your lips before you couldn’t even notice it.

Desire swirled through his eyes and he brought you close to him, rolling his hard length against your center as he moved to the other nipple, his tongue drawing a faint line into your chest.

Heeseung only drew back to savor your reactions, the way your eyes closed, your mouth parted as the most pretty sounds continued to escape through.

“Hee,” you whimpered. You have never heard your voice so desperate like this. You have never felt so desperate. And that was exactly what broke him, the way you called for him so softly and whimpered, so full of wish. He could give you anything even if you never asked.

You reached for his low abdomen, feeling his muscles tense and contract as you fumbled through the waist of his pants, but before you could do anything, Heeseung stopped you — his fingers curling around your wrists.

“I am here,” he said. “I promise I won’t tease you anymore, so let me take care of everything.”

The rest of the clothes were taken off laboriously, Heeseung sliding your panties through your ankles and allowing them to join the rest of your attire before he reached for the button of his pants, getting a little shuffling underneath you as he pushed it down to his tights together with his boxers.

He took himself in his hand, hard, long, and already pushing into you. His breath hitched at the feel of you, whispering your name, pronouncing it with the same deliberate slowness he always had and you couldn’t help but moan at the whole feel of him, fingers curling on his shoulders, head a bit thrown back.

There were silver stripes painted across your skin, the moon appearing behind the trees, invading through his opened window. And you were so pretty like this — so pretty, Heeseung had no second thoughts before meandering his arm around your waist, bringing you close to his chest as he pulled out to the tip and back into you.

It was slow at first, all about him discovering the new shape of you, but soon enough, it was confident, knowing. He knew exactly how to move, how to make you tighten around him, and his name to escape from your lips a little bit more frantic.

Your fingers spread through his neck, trying to angle him up to you, stifling all your whines against his tongue, but Heeseung only buried his face in the curve of your shoulders in response, his heavy breaths against your skin.

“I want to hear you,” he mumbled. “Please.”

Despite your shyness, you did as he asked, giving him all your noises, whimpers, and the soft, snuffled sounds, allowing them to blend with the summer night and the way he kept whispering for you to not stop.

“Heeseung, I-”

He moved, focusing on you, eyes encountering yours for the first time, all dazed and captivated, and he let out a gasp of breath as he leaned into you, forehead brushing your own. 

“That’s ok, princess,” he whispered, pressing a little bit deeper, a little bit harder. “I am here, come for me.”

You clenched around him, thighs shaking as the knot in your stomach broke loose, just a few moments before he followed you.

Heeseung swallowed your last whine, catching your lips on his as he slipped out. His fingers smoothed your skin, thumbs drawing full circles as he sat you down on his thighs.

The car went quiet, scratched only by the soft rustle of the leaves outside and Heeseung’s heart slowly coming into peace beneath your fingertips.

“Yours,” he whispered.

You drew back, just a bit, hands slipping from his neck and spreading through his chest for support. The moonlight picked strands of his hair, reflected through his damp skin. You couldn’t make sense of what he had said.

“What?”

“Early — when you were introducing me to your grandmother, you didn’t know what to title me,” he explained. “I am yours, no titles required.”

“My Heeseung?” you asked, not being able to control the small smile forming on your lips.

“Yours,” he agreed.

August arrived in Hongcheon as it always did in Seoul. Although summer was still there, painting everything in vivid and full colors, rain clouds lingered in the sky, holding the heat during the day and causing the air to sting with the threat of a storm at the end of the night.

Only that at Hongcheon, the air also stung with the rumble of engines, the smell of car exhaustion, burnt tires, and worries on Saturday nights.

You pulled Heeseung’s jacket tight around your body, tugging the collar up to your mouth and purposely breathing on his peony perfume, allowing it to be the only thing in your lungs as you looked around. This part of the county was so flat, anywhere you looked the low canopy of dense gray clouds seemed to meet the asphalt, and the idea of Heeseung being caught in the rain made your heart falter.

You still remember when Heeseung raced you to the coast, the world was just a blur beyond the windows, the roads too slippy beneath the BMW’s tires. He didn’t need water in the middle of all of this to make it harder.

“They are coming back,” Sunhae announced.

You looked at the highway in time to see headlights breaking in between the asphalt and the clouds.

“Seems like lover boy is leading this week.”

“Damn, I bet on Daekho,” Hayoung cursed.

“You have a crush on him.”

“He is handsome? yes,” your cousin admitted. “Would I mind if the boys gave me his number? Definitely no, but no. I am not twelve to have a crush.”

Sunhae replied something, bringing out the most genuine laugh from both of them, but you were already a world apart, taking in the familiar sound of the BMW’s tires squealing through the asphalt, raising a trail of smoke just a few moments before Heeseung threw his door open, seizing to the roof to slip out faster.

You didn’t remember the decision of moving, only that you did. When Heeseung stepped in front of his headlights, you were already there, threading your fingers in the hair at his nape, bringing his forehead against yours at the same time his hands found the bodice of your dress beneath the thick material of his jacket, brushing his thumbs shamelessly through the curve of your breasts.

“I was worried,” you said.

“Why?”

“It’s going to rain soon.”

“I told you I would come back in one piece.” Heeseung laughed at you, all fond and appreciative before he pestered you with quick kisses all over your face, but when he chased for your lips, you froze beneath his touch, all at once, the wandering fingers in the middle of a brush, the small smile gone.

But only when he followed your eyesight did he notice the reason why.

Sunghoon approached across the highway, his brown Range Rover parked just behind. With all the furor of the racers arriving, and the people shouting, none of you noticed the Range Rover coming in the wrong way. It blended in the middle of all the other fancy cars, yet Sunghoon — Sunghoon could never blend in a place like this.

Heeseung thought the formal attire was a requirement both of them had created for your parent’s lunch, but looking at him there, at eleven o’clock on the night of a Saturday, he wondered if the man ever wore anything that wasn’t dress pants and silk button-downs.

“What a sight,” Sunghoon said. “I hope you both are enjoying the remaining weeks.”

“After all, what do you think’s going to happen by the end of summer, Heeseung?” he asked, but Heeseung didn’t reply.

“Well, let me tell you then. Y/N is going back to the city — back to the best university in the country while you will be here,” Sunghoon said, his hands gesturing to the surroundings with an unmistakable repulse. He didn’t need to finish his thoughts, the sentence had already been completed before he even spoke it, but still, Sunghoon seemed to relish his mind so much that he had to. “At this end of the world, earning your dirty money.”

“Shut up,” Heeseung hissed.

“What? Do you think she likes you?” Sunghoon laughed, head thrown back, but there was no humor in it. “C’mon Heeseung, we both know she is too good for you. It’s pity, and as soon as she is back in Seoul, she will forget this moment of charity,”

“So enjoy fucking her while you can.”

You felt Heeseung stiffening, his jaw clenching beneath your thumbs at the same time his hands slipped away.

“Hee,” you called, but it was too late. He had let you go, fleeing through the space between you and Sunghoon.

Heeseung grabbed Sunghoon’s button-down, twisting the thin material between his fists. He didn’t seem to think about the consequences of his actions — he simply did it, using his grip to push Sunghoon onto the Range Rover’s hood. The sound of the body hitting the brown-tinted metal was almost imperceptible amidst the sudden cheers.

“Not the car.” Sunghoon hissed.

“Not the car?” Heeseung echoed, mockery pushing through each pronounced letter. However, he seemed to concur, ripping Sunghoon from the car hood and allowing the latter to stumble back to his feet.

It happened too quickly for you to process. You didn’t even see who launched the opening blow; you only knew that it happened, getting them into a real fight.

Heeseung laughed in the middle of the chaos, something you always thought to be soft unfolding sharply within the night.

He stopped, pointing at his own face as if to encourage Sunghoon to throw another punch. But the moment Sunghoon did, he went down to the dirty asphalt, Heeseung above him.

“Heeseung!” you called again, more urgently. But he seemed to not have heard you — fist still ready and in the middle of another throw before Jake finally reached them.

“Stop it, you are ruining your damn face,” Jake said, hauling Heeseung up by his shoulders.

“Leave,” Heeseung hissed to Sunghoon. “Before I end you,”

“I have been wanting to do it already.”

Sunghoon stood up, touching his pinkie finger to his lips to check for blood. He had so many bruises on his cheek and hands that the lips seemed the least problem. However, you couldn’t feel sorry for him — not with how he straightened himself, adjusting his button-down and giving you an awful smile.

“You know it’s not over, right?” Sunghoon asked, finally turning to his car.

The Range Rover’s tire squealed as it bit into the asphalt, drifting through the highway. And only when the car disappeared from view, did Jake let go of Heeseung’s shoulders, allowing him to turn back to you, panting, and bleeding.

Despite his state, Heeseung couldn’t feel anything — think about anything. The place still had the smell of car exhaustion and burnt tires, and the air still sting with the upcoming storm, he could hear the commotion of the people around, but everything seemed so subtle that even when your perfume came to his senses, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was just his desperate mind searching for something to hold on in the middle of his numbness.

Yet, he felt your arms around his neck and your warmth against him was enough to pull the world back to its axes. He hugged you back, arms involving your waist, head leaning on your shoulder, the slope of his nose pressed to your neck. He could scent the dirtiness of the race on your skin, the smoke of the cars, and exhaustion, but beneath it, there was your sweet perfume.

“Hee,” you called. There was no reprehension in your tone, it brushed through his skin just like it always did — soft, and all yours. You weren’t sure if you wanted to say something more, it had just slipped through.

Heeseung drew back, just enough for his lips to trail your cheeks, kissing the tears you haven’t realized you had shed.

“I am sorry,” he whispered. “I am so sorry, princess.”

“Just let me take you out of here, hm?” you said.

Heeseung was surprised that you settled yourself on the driver’s seat of his BMW. But he said nothing as he followed you, taking the passenger seat instead. He said nothing when you stepped on the pedals, pulled the first gear, and drove away. Heeseung waited until you both are already far away from the street racing furor, and you a little bit more comfortable with the fourth gear.

“I didn’t know you could drive.”

“I got my driver’s license as soon as the law permitted, but it was because my dad wanted me to,” you said. “I don’t really enjoy it in the city, there are too much traffic, lights — people.”

He chuckled at your statement, it was a minuscule sound spreading through the night before he reached for your thigh, his palm resting warm and wide on your bare skin.

“You look stunning like this.”

“You are so flirty.”

“I am just telling you the truth,” he said. Your mouth parted, a small incredulous sound leaving your throat and Heeseung couldn’t help but laugh — not the sharp laugh he had released with Sunghoon, but the one you loved, the soft, beautiful, and capable of twitching your heart one.

He rested his head on the seat, but not for a single second he allowed his gaze to move away from you as you drove back to the town.

                                      ┈┈┈┈

By the time you reached the main avenue, everything had become so silent, it was easy to think you and Heeseung were the only people left in the world. All the stores had closed for the day, turning their signs off and leaving only the 24 hour convenience store to cast an artificial light among the street lamps.

“I will stop to get something to clean you,” you said.

“You don’t need to, princess,” he replied. But you had already parked in the shade of the walkway outside the glass door, reaching blindly for the space behind the seats in search of your purse.

“Don’t move,” you told him. Yet still, Heeseung did, fingers coming into the encounter the sides of your neck, thumbs caressing your skin, and subtly turning you to his side in an attempt to make you stay.

“You really don’t need to,” he whispered.

The sky was dark with dense clouds. The only source of light was the fluorescent lamps from the convenience store, and with him trying to pull you against him, making you shadow this small sort of light, it was difficult to see his face, but there was something about the way he had said it, so frail, and wheedling.

“Let me take care of you,” you asked. “Please.”

And that was it, even if he never told you, there was this thing inside of him — this inability to simply say no when it was you to receive this small rejection. Heeseung would do anything you asked, in a single heartbeat.

So he waited in the warmth of the BMW, watching as you slipped through the convenience store’s door, his leather jacket still hanging tightly around your shoulders as you scanned the aisles. He felt himself ache just looking at you, chest too tight to breathe, eyes all soft, and when you came back, opening the passenger door, everything he did was slid the seat all the way back, allowing you to climb to his lap, knees around his hips as he reached for you almost unconsciously, hands resting at your waist, thumbs drawing slow circles through the thin material of your dress as you scattered your new purchases through the small space between both of you. A bottle of antiseptic, two packages of cotton, and a bunch of bandages, Heeseung was sure you had bought the whole first aid session from the convenience store.

But before he could joke about it, you turned the car’s light on, and beneath this sudden clarity, you frowned, eyebrows up, lips pressing into a thin line. The wounds were worse than it seemed, there was a cut over his eyebrows, bleeding as a darker bruise spread over his left cheek. You reached for them, the tip of your fingers wandering through his skin as if you could erase them with your bare touch.

“I am sorry, Hee,” you whispered.

“Why are you asking me sorry? I was the one fighting.”

“If it wasn’t because of me, Sunghoon wasn’t going to be there.”

He winced when you touched the cotton on him, gripping hard on your waist. The antiseptic burnt through his cuts.

“What are you to him?” Heeseung asked, so low that if you weren’t paying enough attention to him, it would have slid and slipped away within a moment. “I know you told me he is your father’s business partner’s son, and you both study together, but why does he-”

He stopped, all of a sudden, his eyes preferring to focus on the windshield instead of you.

“Sorry, I trust you, it’s just — he is right, you know? You are too good for me, and I am afraid of how many men you have wrapped around your finger.”

“Heeseung, don’t-”

“I am talking about how you treat me,” he said. “Princess, you never get angry. You didn’t get angry when you found out about the racing — you are not angry right now. I don’t know what you are made of, but surely it’s too good for me.”

“I do get angry,” you whispered. “I am so angry with myself right now. I just wish I could make you understand that you are everything to me, Heeseung. I just wish I could find the right thing to say, the right thing to do, but it seems like the more I try the more I hurt you. I-”

You let go of his face, catching his hand instead, his knuckles were an angry red, with blood dried, and settling in the lines of his skin. You brushed cotton soaked in antiseptic across this new area, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tears coming once again with your head turned down.

But he did. Heeseung was always watching you too attentively.

“I am sorry, princess.”

Heeseung hugged you, his arms embracing your waist as he brought you as close as he could, resting his head on your shoulders, his nose pressed to your neck. He could scent the dirtiness of the race on your skin still, the smoke of the cars, and exhaustion, but beneath it, there was your sweet perfume. There was always your sweet perfume.

“I am so sorry,” he whispered.

Heeseung hasn’t cried — not even once, being it for his mother or for his father. However, when you pulled him tight against your shoulders, fingertips too warm against the sides of his neck, he found himself sobbing like he couldn’t remember ever doing. The forgotten feeling of the tears running down his face slowly becoming familiar once again.

“You don’t have to,” you whispered. “You never have to feel sorry for me.”

You angled Heeseung’s face to you, resting your forehead against his, cleaning his tears with the soft pads of your thumbs. He took the opportunity to catch your bottom lip, pinching it between his a few times before it turned into a real kiss, but you drew back, wrinkling your nose.

“You are tasting like antiseptic,” you said.

He laughed, throwing his head back and closing his eyes for a long moment before he straightened himself back, brushing a stray lock behind your ear.

“You always do,” Heeseung whispered. “Say the right thing, do the right thing.”

“You do too,” you confessed. “What you said to Mrs. Choi — driving to Seoul whenever I want you to, it—”

“Was the simple truth,” he completed. “It takes just an hour to arrive there, and considering I am following the speed limits, what you know I only do when you are in the car.”

“I can come and go twelve times a day, you know?”

It was your turn to shy away, focusing on the collar of his t-shirt instead, playing with the kneaded material with the tip of your fingers.

��You spoil me too much.”

“I can handle a spoiled little princess,” he said.

“Can you?”

“Definitely.”

Heeseung slid his hands to your neck, his thumbs pressing gently into your skin as he tipped your head, angling you so you had to look at him, take in his gleaming eyes for a quiet second before he kissed you, and this time you didn’t draw back, even with the taste of antiseptic and blood when you brushed your tongue through his bottom lip, earning a groan as he parted his mouth for you.

Outside the car, a rumble of thunder echoed through the halted avenue, immediately bringing the awaited storm, the heavy raindrops tapping the BMW windows, but if anything you curled your fingers on Heeseung’s t-shirt, bringing him as close as you could.

The cadence of his heart matched with yours. And it was so easy to believe you both were the only ones remaining in the world — so easy.

                                      ┈┈┈┈

The storm didn’t cease as Heeseung drove you to the rented house, pounding harshly on the windshields as thunder kept breaking through the sky.

His hand seemed to hitch above the gear stick, ready to pull the engine a little bit harder, simply because he knew he could do it — Heeseung had perfect control over the BMW, but you seemed uneasy with the harshness of the storm, and he laughed, reaching for you instead, resting his palm between your tights through the rest of the drive.

Heeseung usually parked on the street, headlights illuminating the garden’s patch for you as he watched you walk away, his leather jacket on your shoulders, high heels hitting the rocks, but tonight, he passed through the gates, stepping on the brakes only when your door was just one jump away from the stairs.

“Is it your father?” he asked, taking your attention to one of the rocking chairs on the porch. As if he had listened to Heeseung, your father stood up, as intimidating as someone could be in a blue-striped pajama, and hair down.

“I should greet him,” Heeseung mumbled, and you nodded, although you thought it wasn’t the best night. You had done your best to clean him, however, the metallic scent of blood was still surrounding the air, quietly yet effortlessly being a constant reminder of the early incident.

The clock on the BMW showed precisely one in the morning, you had never arrived so late, and you tried to convince yourself that was the reason why your father had decided to wait outside for the first time during the whole summer. You tried to convince yourself that if Heeseung remained a few steps behind, your father wouldn’t notice the bandage on his eyebrow, and the darkening bruise on his left cheek.

But there was already something different in your father, something fierce and overprotective. The moment you stepped closer, his hand rested on your shoulder, subtly pulling you away from Heeseung.

“Give his jacket back,” your father demanded.

“What?” you asked, not because you didn’t understand, but because the harshness with which he had said it surprised you.

“You heard me.”

You looked back at Heeseung, mirroring his perplexed expression. He had extended his hand at your father, but it had been ignored by the latter, and Heeseung used his still extended hand to reach for his jacket instead.

There was a moment of silence between you, the only sound coming was from the rumble of thunders, but it wasn’t the cause of the changeless in the air, making it halted and heavy enough to be felt, thick with a tension you weren’t used to. 

“I am sorry for bringing Y/N late, sir,” Heeseung started. He had stopped a bit farther away, the rain plugging on his hair, running through his shoulders, and soaking his t-shirt. “We—”

“You should go back home, Heeseung,” your father cut. “As you said it is late, and I need to have a serious talk with my daughter.”

“I will call you later, Hee,” you promised.

Heeseung nodded at you, stepping behind at the same time your father guided you through the door.

The clarity of the interior of the rented house took you anew, making you blink several times before you could take the form of your mother sitting on the couch, a first kit aid settled on her lap, and a bunch of cotton as dirty as the ones you left on Heeseung’s car discarded on the table in front of her.

There was no real indication of Sunghoon’s passage through the house, but it wouldn’t take a genius to know it was all his doing.

And although you could feel your body cooling, you weren’t surprised when your father finally broke the question.

“Has Heeseung ever raced with you in the car?”

You felt a little lurch at that. The idea of lying seemed to attempt you. It would be so easy to simply say no — so easy to let that night be buried as a secret between you and Heeseung. However, you had allowed the question to hang in for too long, and when you noticed, it was already too late to do so.

In the middle of your silence, your mother released a tortuous sound, closing her hand above her chest as if something inside of her hurt — and perhaps, it did. Her tears streamed silently beneath the night’s light.

“I asked him to do it,” you finally said. “Please, let me explain, Heeseung-”

“Stop it right now!” your father burst, a single hand coming harshly against the nearest wall. Your father never had screamed at you, not even once. And the sudden ferocity in his voice tore the small thread keeping you from breaking.

“Sunghoon appeared here, bleeding because your boyfriend — a street racer,” he continued, pronouncing street racer with the same repugnance as he would say bandit. “beat him, and not only this, Y/N, you go to his races!”

“What if the police appeared? All the years you dedicated yourself to get into a good university, to stay at the top of your classes — the future you have been working so hard for, all of suddenly thrown in the trash because of a guy?”

“I don’t know who you are anymore, but you surely are not the daughter I raised.”

The living room fell silent at this and only then you noticed how fast your heart was beating. It hummed against your ears, so loud you couldn’t even think.

Your father turned to the stairs, leaving you behind without a second or uncertain glance. He had already declared everything he wanted, be it with words or not. Your mother remained, but if she was going to say something, she let it all go with a single shake of head before she trailed helplessly after him.

You didn’t follow them up the stairs, but instead, you stood still, staring so long into the walls that when you finally reached for your phone, it took a while for your vision to focus.

“Princess?” Heeseung called. Your heart tethered itself, just his voice was enough to make you stop trembling. “I was waiting for you.”

You breathed in, perhaps so harshly that it made him stop at the other end of the line. You weren’t sure how long had it been since your father shoved Heeseung away from the front porch, you only knew it had been long ago, perhaps a lifetime ago, yet — he was still waiting for you.

Heeseung would always wait for you.

“I am sorry,” you whispered, because you were — because you weren’t sure what else you could tell him. “I am so sorry.”

“Sunghoon told your parents about the racing, didn’t he?” he asked. His question didn’t carry the madness or annoyance it could be expected if made just a few hours earlier. Instead, he sounded pitiful.

Heeseung knew his secret would someday come between both of you. He knew it from the moment he had first seen you at the party. You were French dresses, high heels, golden pins on the hair and champagne on the weekends. You had the world at your feet, meanwhile, he barely had a place for himself.

“He did,” you admitted.

He closed his eyes to calm his pulse, and before he could doubt the wisdom of saying it, he did.

“Maybe we should take a break from seeing each other,” he whispered.

“Hee-”

“Just for a few, princess,” Heeseung said. “It will do no good infuriating your father more.”

“I don’t want it to be just a summer thing, you and me,” he continued. “I will do anything to prove my worth to your father, but for now I think we should slow down a bit.”

“You are worth it.”

“I am glad you think like this,” he said, a pinch of a smile in his voice. “Let’s keep calling, alright?”

“Alright.”

Heeseung was the one to call you the next night.

It was precisely at the same hours you had called him, almost as if he had programmed it because he knew it would be safer for you.

You made your way out of bed, walking to the window seat just to curl yourself there in the middle of all the pillows.

“Princess,” he called as soon as you picked up. “Have you looked at the moon tonight?”

With a tethered heart, you turned to the windows, following the moonlight through the clouds above before you exhaled, stuck by the quiet beauty.

“Not until now, it’s beautiful,” you said. Your voice sounded muffed into the pillow.

“Bad hour?” Heeseung asked. “We can hang up.”

“No, please — keep talking, I want to hear you.”

“So suddenly,” he laughed. “What do you want to hear about?”

“Anything, I just want to hear you.”

“Have I ever told you what I studied at university?” he asked. Although you knew Heeseung had been a university student for a few semesters, the question took you anew, you never have stopped to think about what would have been his major. And perhaps because he noticed the reticent on you, he continued without your answer. “Architecture.”

“Really?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?” he laughed.

“I didn’t!”

“You did.”

“I just never stopped to think about your major,” you admitted. “How was it? The university?”

“Glorious and terrible days,” Heeseung said, making you laugh. The sound surprised you, making you press your fingertips against your lips. There was no better way to sum up university life.

“Did you used to live in the dorms?”

“Yes, with Jungwon and Jake,” Heeseung said. You could hear a subtle longing in his voice.

“It seems interesting.”

“It was a mess — we once set off the fire alarm, and the whole building had to evacuate at two in the morning.”

“No.”

“Yes,” he said. “It seemed like a great idea to cook inside the room back then.”

Hours passed this way. Heeseung told stories of his old dorms, and their uncomfortable beds, his university, and its old mismatching buildings. He perfectly surrounded how much he wished he had stayed there, and only gave brief pauses to hear your laugh, the soft hitches of your breaths at the other end of the line.

Heeseung suddenly fell silent, only the ruffle of his sheets being heard.

“How is Seoul?”

“Beautiful and lonely.”

“Do you miss it? Even if it’s lonely?”

“No,” you said. The speed the words have left your lips surprised you, but still, you continued. “I wish I could stay here. Would you build me a dream house here?”

“I never got my architect license,” Heeseung said. “But if you tell me about your dream house, I can find you something.”

“I want to live in the hills.���

“Should I buy your summer house then?”

“I dislike big houses.”

“So do I,” Heeseung said, immediately pressing his lips in regret. It sounded like it was his dream house too. You could almost picture him — the way his head would bend down before he shook his head in an attempt to cover his shyness. Your lips curved with the image.

“Heeseung?” you called. He only hummed in reply.

“Do you prefer a single-story house or a two-story house?”

“Two-story, especially on the hill — you must enjoy the whole view.”

“With a front porch and a balcony on the second floor?”

“I like the idea.”

“It’s settled then,” you said. “Please, find me my dream house — don’t forget the garage for your  BMW, I will also be bringing my Jeep.”

You had hung up so softly, it took him several seconds to notice you did.

It had already been a week when you waited for the house to turn into nothing but the summer breezes coming from the forgotten opened windows before you leaped off the bed, moving as quietly as you could to the front porch.

Beyond the garden, Hongcheon was so calm that you were afraid your whispers would unfold too loudly through the night. However, you sat down on the stairs still, your bare feet brushing through the warm grass as you unlocked your phone, reaching for the single contact you could possibly want.

It rang just a single time before Heeseung picked it up.

“Princess,” he said. You could swear he was smiling at the other end of the line.

“Take me somewhere?”

                                      ┈┈┈┈

Heeseung parked his BMW a little bit farther than the conventional, the headlights turned off. He didn’t wait for you to come to the car, the moment he pressed the parking brake, his door was opened and he rushed to you, his warmth involving your waist in a familiarity that made you ache. He swirled you, just once — pulling you out of the ground as his nose buried at the side of your neck, inhaling every little detail he could before he put you back on your feet and drew an inch away, just enough to encounter your gaze beneath the goldish street lights.

His bruises had gotten older, and lighter, already turning into a greenish tone and therefore making it more difficult to look at. But still, you reach for it, the tip of your fingers softly pressuring against his sensitive skin.

Heeseung leaned his forehead against yours. And all of sudden you could scent him, the summer he carried beneath his skin together with peonies. There was no scent of car exhaustion tonight, nor the scent of his leather jacket as he only wore a gray t-shirt and his washed jeans, but it was still very much your Heeseung.

“I missed you,” you said, voice nothing more than a soft whisper.

“I missed you too.”

                                      ┈┈┈┈

Heeseung drove you through the dense wood outside of the town, going down on a patch not meant to be passed through, but he seemed to know where he was going, and it was enough for you to adjust comfortably on the seat, bare feet up, legs clutched to your chest. Your dress slipped down on your thigh and gathered in the crease of your hips, showing off way too much but if anything Heeseung’s hand left the gear stick to rest on it, fingers spreading on your bare skin.

The clock on the dash told you the sun was closer to its rising than its setting, yet still, you could feel the warmth of the day brushing through the open windows of the BMW. Everything outside smelled like the moistness of the late summer.

“Where are you taking me?” you asked.

“It’s a secret.” Heeseung replied with a broad smile.

He dropped down a few gears just several minutes after, parking the BMW. The headlights only lit rocks, and only when you slipped out of the car you saw the swimming hole, pooled in the moonlight.

Heeseung stepped forward, kicking off his shoes first, and then pulling his t-shirt and jeans, allowing everything to fall with a dull sound on the ground.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking a night swim,” he said, a split second before he jumped in.

Heeseung submerged, his skin sparkling beneath the moonlight glow and the BMW’s headlights, all the drops catching the silver lights as he threw his head back in a laugh.

“Aren’t you coming, princess?”

You could feel Heeseung’s eyes burning your skin, watching you attentively as you slid the straps of your dress away, allowing the thin material to fall.

He said nothing as his gaze traveled down on you, accompanying each of your moves as you reached for the back of your bra and unclasped it. He just stood there, taking the angle of your shoulders, the swell of your breasts. Heeseung was cataloging every inch of you and checking if he hadn’t let anything escape at the first time with adoration.

As you sat on the rocks, feet reaching the water, the cold made it difficult for you to breathe. But before you had a chance to give a better consideration, you snuck in.

“You are crazy, Lee Heeseung,” you gasped.

He laughed at you, allowing the sound to resonate within the night once again as he ended the few inches between you, coming so close you could lift your hand and touch his damp locks, brushing it away from his forehead with no effort despite the height difference.

“But you love me,” Heeseung whispered, taking you anew. The words had left his lips so softly that if you weren’t paying close attention to him, you would believe it was just another passing breeze through your skin.

“Yes,” you whispered back. “I do love you.”

It was a strange thing. Over the past months, he had seen it in your eyes, tasted through your lips, and felt it through every one of your touches. Yet, the impact of how you wordly confirmed you loved him, lanced through his body.

He looked at you like you were a dream to him, and perhaps you were. You could hear the slight tremor in his breath when he exhaled. And the words that came later ached within you.

“I love you too — I love you so much.”

Your hands found the back of his neck, bringing his forehead against yours at the same time he grabbed your thighs, pulling it around his hips. The familiar pressure of his fingertips drawing patterns through your skin before he hitched you higher, your upper body floating above the water.

For such a dark place, there was a great deal of illumination and you could take sight of yourself. Your hair clung to your body, dribbling at the curves and emphasizing the swell of your breasts. The view just seemed to enchant Heeseung even more, his doe-eyes sparkled beneath the moonlight, shining like stars before he went down on you, trailing your stomach with soft kisses.

He whispered your name. The almost never said word grating over your skin.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he said. “I never can get enough of you.”

The headlights of the BMW went off, and Heeseung straightened you back to him, shivers spreading through your skin as his hands slid through you, tracing the slick ridge of your spine before finding the sides of your neck in the dim light.

You were unsettling, skin sparkling in the moonlight glow, and the moment you met his gaze, Heeseung felt completely dazed. His thumb pressed against your lips, just enough for you to part them for him, and allow your tongue to slip through the tip of your finger.

“What are you doing to me?” he groaned. But he was soft and gentle with it, a hint of a laugh when he kissed you.

Heeseung seemed so happy tonight, all crafted on the unconditional gaiety he deserved. And you weren’t willing to let the night end. You weren’t willing to let go of him — not now, not in a few.

Your fingers curled on the hair at his nape, pulling him closer, trying to end a distance that didn’t exist anymore. You could feel Heeseung entirely. From the way he shivered beneath your touch, to the way his breath hitched when you slipped down, mouth running through his throat.

“I want to stay with you.”

“Then stay with me,” he whispered. “For as long as you want.”

                                      ┈┈┈┈

Heeseung’s house was as lovely as you remembered — even now, when he closed the door behind you, cutting the only direct source of light, the house was radiant as if it had its own sun.

He stepped past you, reaching his hand out behind. At first, he just pinched your fingertips, but as he guided you through the stairs, he laced his fingers on yours, pulling you closer to him and guiding you through the corridor. He was skilled in finding the most silent places on the wooden floor, allowing your breaths to be the loudest thing resonating through the whole place.

The second-story was tinier than the first one, just a narrow corridor with three doors. Heeseung brought you to the nearest one, turning the light on, you blinked at a blue-tiled bathroom.

“You can go in first,” he told you, walking up to the shower, he turned the knobs and checked the temperature for you. “I will find you some clothes and — everything.”

You barely could nod before he stepped out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Heeseung left you alone to shower, giving you enough time to fill the whole space with a sweet-smelling soap and when he did come back, he didn’t look at you, being deeply focused on the task of leaving the clothes at the sink.

“Hee,” you called. He raised his head at you, meeting your gaze through the fogged glass at the same time you tilted your head to the space in front of you in an unspoken invitation.

Even with the distance you could notice how his breath got caught, a moment of hesitation passing before he reached for the collar of his t-shirt, discharging it and then, his jeans, stripping it down together with his underwear. But all of a sudden, you understood why he was acting like this.

Both of the times you had been together, it was beneath the moonlight, hidden within the night. There was something unduly intimate about the fluorescent lamp above you. It illuminated every sinewy line of his body as he came to a stop in front of you. And it took every ounce of you to reach for the shampoo instead of him.

“Let me-” you started. However, Heeseung had kneeled in front of you, with no second thoughts, he just did it — meeting your gaze through his eyelashes, water pearling on the end for a second before he closed his eyes.

You threaded your fingers through his hair, and he threw his head a bit back, his palms spreading through your hips for support. He honestly didn’t know what to do with himself there. Heeseung couldn’t remember a time someone touched him so gently before you, not because you thought he was breakable, but because you thought he deserved this.

He allowed you to rinse his hair, only standing up when you subtly tap his hands. And then, he let you smooth over his bare skin, starting with his shoulders, and rubbing down to his chest, he groaned when you reached for his low abdomen, fingertips hovering dangerously close to his aching length.

“Princess,” he called. However, his words left his lips with no warning.

“You are hard.”

Heeseung chuckled at your statement, leaning on you, his lips met your ears, scattering shivers through your body despite the warm water.

“I have been struggling with it ever since you took your dress off in the swimming hole,” he confessed.

“Then I should take care of it,” you said, reaching for him, hand wrapping around his length. He cursed when you rolled your thumb through his tip, but he allowed you to stroke him at your pace nonetheless, edging him until his breaths were heavier, shorter, gasping as the only thing passing through his lips was your name, all wishful.

His head dropped forward, burying his nose against your shoulders, and you had to ask him to move, to look at you, to allow you to kiss him tantalizingly sweet, and nothing like the way you kept touching him. Nothing like the whine you accidentally let escape.

Heeseung drew away, all of a sudden before he grabbed your thighs, lifting you easily — perhaps too easily, and making your legs fold around his waist.

“You have been taking too much care of me, let me take care of you too,” he asked.

The bathroom felt smaller, brighter, and softer as you nodded, allowing Heeseung to push himself into you, calling your name, pronouncing each letter with an unreasonable fondness, and turning it into a mutter singing through his pulses.

His moves were careless this time, gone on all your teasing, but he still managed to make you tighten around him, fingers curling on the hair of his nape as your mouth parted against his.

Heeseung swallowed your noises, pressed kisses on your lips as he felt you shaking, spread his palms on the back of your thigh to hold you through your high, and helped you stand when you felt too weak to.

He turned the knobs, letting the bathroom fall silent before he wrapped you both in towels, his hands never letting you go as he guided you to sit between his legs at the toilet before he started rubbing your hair.

“Sorry, I don’t have a hair dryer,” he said.

“It’s better this way,” you admitted, your voice almost sounding purred as you inclined your head back. Heeseung chuckled at your actions, but if anything, his fingers worked slower, rubbing your hair with gentleness until it seemed dried enough to let you slip into the oversized t-shirt he had brought you.

You weren’t sure what time it was, but when he opened the door to his room. The world outside seemed vivid in comparison, a mist of light blue and purple coming through his opened windows.

Heeseung climbed to his bed first, subtly tapping the space at his side in an invitation, and when you followed, he pulled you against him, fitting your body to his — tangling you as much as he could into the circle of his warmth.

“Can you say it again?” he whispered. “What did you say in the swimming hole?”

“That I love you?”

“Yes.”

“Heeseung, I love you,” you said, leaning into him, your forehead on his shoulder, fingertips pressing against the exact place above his heart, feeling the cadence of his whole being as he exhaled, reaching for you too — curling his fingers above yours.

“I love you too, princess.”

The room fell silent, just the soft hustle of his thumbs brushing the inner curve of your wrist, slowly and carefully, causing you to close your eyes. And for the first time, you fell asleep to Heeseung’s beating heart.

You woke up to the summer sunlight filtering through the still-opened windows of Heeseung’s room, the morning glow reflecting through the wind bell and dappling the room in a dozen of colors.

Heeseung was still asleep, the calm rise and fall of his chest beneath your fingertips. He held your hand exactly where you had left it above his heart last night, fingers curled around yours still. You didn’t want to slip away, not yet. But your sore throat hurt and the only cup of water visible had been dried by summer heat.

He stirred when you slipped away from his touch, but he didn’t wake up. His face remains calm, the dark curls of his hair shadowing his eyes as you left the room.

When you approached the kitchen, you heard the soft hustle of dishes echoing, drawers opening and shutting as a secure sign his grandmother was awake. And suddenly you were conscious of your current situation.

Heeseung had gotten you an oversized t-shirt, leaving barely anything of your thighs to see. Yet, the idea of her finding you in nothing but her grandson’s t-shirt as the first thing in the morning seemed somehow worse than coming in a mini and tight dress. But she only turned around to your presence, a smile spreading through her lips before she reached from across the tiny kitchen, taking your hands in a familiar squeeze.

“My dear,” she breathed out. “I had no idea you were here! Are you hungry? I have just prepared a few sandwiches and iced tea.”

“No- I don’t want to bother.”

“Just make me company for a few, I have to leave soon anyway — book club.”

“Oh, seems interesting.”

“Not at all, just a bunch of old women talking about romance books, but I should leave the house once in a while, you know? Not to mold,” she said, making you laugh.

Heeseung’s grandmother poured two cups of iced tea, handing one to you without any further speaking before she sat on one of the kitchen’s chairs, and gestured for you to do the same.

It was relaxed at first, all about her talking of her early years in this small county as the sun kept coming up, but then, she became stiff, approaching the moment Heeseung’s father died.

“It was a tragedy for me, of course. But it ruined Heeseung — I thought I had lost both of my son and grandson that night. You should’ve seen him a few years ago, you wouldn’t even recognize him — he was so lonely and gloomy, even with Jake and Jungwon nearby.”

“But you appeared here — right here,” she continued, pointing at the front door. “I haven’t seen him smile like that in months.”

“I know he is involved in something I wouldn’t be proud of — but he is a good person.”

“He is,” you whispered, not because she needed confirmation, but because it was good to say it out loud. “Heeseung is the greatest person I have ever met.”

                                      ┈┈┈┈

When you got back to Heeseung’s room, the morning sun had already given in, allowing the afternoon light to bathe his room entirely.

Heeseung had rolled in his sleep, his back now turned to the place where you had been and the sun perfectly angled upon him. The waves of his dark hair glinted in errant streaks of gold and his skin seemed warm.

You climbed the bed, wrapping your arms around his waist. He still had the sweet scent of the shampoo you both had used late at night, but you could swear there was something brighter on it, something like a change. You spread your fingers above his heart, feeling the cadence of his being.

Only when you had soothed, Heeseung reached for you too, his hand resting right above yours, intertwining your fingers together and letting you know he was awake.

“Where did you go?” he asked, his voice horse from sleep.

You had listened to his question, but you didn’t immediately reply, allowing another moment to hang as you came even closer against his sun-warmed skin, kissing his shoulders.

“I was talking to your grandma.”

“Somehow, it worries me.”

“Why?”

“Wasn’t she exposing me or something?”

“Yes,” you smiled. “People have something to tell me about your past.”

“Exactly — what if they tell you something that makes you want to leave me?” Heeseung asked, although there was a hint of entertainment in his voice, your answer was solemn.

“I doubt it can happen.”

Heeseung rolled to you, blinking with the sudden clarity. His eyes gleamed beneath the morning light. The brown dark mesmerizing turning hazel before he reached for you — fingertips tracing your face with a delicacy you imagined people devoted only to precious things.

His lips found yours easily, just like they always did. His hands spread across your cheeks, fingers brushing and tangling through your hair as he brought you closer as if he believed his existence lay in the acknowledgment of you — on how your heartbeats resonated together, how naturally your hands curled around his shoulders, and the sensations your bare fingertips are capable of drawing on his skin.

His tongue slid against your bottom lip, softly yet demanding, and you obliged immediately, letting him press his tongue over yours in a way that made your body filled with warmth.

You sighed into him, and Heeseung moved swiftly through the bed, hovering above you, his hands promptly leaving your face just to find the crook of your knee, lifting it to his hips before he leaned in, kissing the pulse on your neck. His lips moved tenderly against your skin, pinching as his hands found the hem of your — his shirt, working it up to your thighs, your waist. He paused only to slip it over your head.

His hands splayed through your waist, holding you still.

“Tell me what you want me to do,” Heeseung said. “I will do it.”

You grazed on him, eyes dazed as your fingertips found his lips in a silent and almost unconscious wish. Heeseung smiled as he glided away from your touch. Because he understood you just too well — because he was willing to do anything you asked him to.

“Y/N, my princess,” he confided. “My love.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I loved having you in my car, and the shower, but having you here — all pretty on my bed, I will take my time with you.”

His fingers dug at the crook of your knee, lifting your leg to his shoulder as he finished moving into the space between your legs. He traced a path of kisses over the inner of your thighs, greedy, pushy, and purposely avoiding the place where you needed him the most. He had said he was going to take his time with you, and apparently, he meant to be true to his words.

You whined at his actions, and he chuckled, giving one final kiss before he allowed his tongue to run between your lips, from the bottom all the way to the top. It was warm soft licks, before he gave your clit an attention that made your legs shake.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp, just enough pressure to make him shiver beneath your touch. Heeseung deepened and you knew even with your eyes closed that he was giving you his sweet smile.

You made a lousy sound, clapping a hand over your mouth to stifle it before Heeseung reached for you, intertwining your fingers, bringing it far from your lips and down into the mattress.

“Don’t,” he whispered. “I want to hear you.”

He moved onto his knees, hair mussed from your fingers, lips rosy, and you would have felt embarrassed if he wasn’t looking at you like there was no one else in this world for him, but he was, and you reached for him, pushing at the waistband of his sweatpants, removing the only thing preventing you from feeling him fully.

His sweatpants hit his bedroom floor with a soft and ignorable thud before his lips were on you again, tongue pressing against yours, tasting like you still.

You folded your legs around his waist, thighs clenching around him, squeezing him almost unconsciously as he crowded into you, one forearm on the pillow by your head, holding himself over you as he pushed into you.

He hissed, looking down between your bodies, eyes glazed as he watched how you fit together. You sobbed when he clutched at you tighter, fingers spreading through your waist as his hips stuttered with impatience and greed.

“Am I hurting you?”

You shook your head frantically, fingers spreading at his neck, angling his forehead against yours, pressing kisses to his jaw, cheeks, and lips, mumbling how it was alright as you felt yourself coiling tighter and tighter, and Heeseung’s rhythm becoming languid.

He came when you did, as defenseless and relinquished as he could be, pulling away almost as if it broke him to let you go.

Heeseung lay by your side, and when you turned to him the sun dazed you. He shielded your eyes, resting his fingertips lightly by the side of your temples as you moved closer to him.

This time around, none of you bothered about clothes, cuddling as the rhythm of your hearts slowly came in pace with the whole summer.

“I never have and won’t ever love anyone the way I love you,” he whispered, breath threading into your hair like a secret.

“When I have to drive you back — let me try talking with your parents.”

                                      ┈┈┈┈

The house on the hill seemed as imposing as it did a few weeks ago, the three-story construction shadowing both of you from the golden sun as you walked through the driveway. Heeseung said nothing as you stopped on the front porch, he said nothing as you turned to him, reaching to his neck, threading your fingers in the hair at his nape, and angling him down to you.

He let you smooth him, brushing your nose against his, catching his bottom lip between yours in the taunting kiss he knew never in million times grow tired of.

“I am here,” you whispered, so softly, he almost didn’t hear it beneath the sound of his throbbing heart.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he said, and it took all of your strength not to wilt as you brushed the pads of your thumbs along his cheekbones. Heeseung always spoke his confessions easily, almost unconsciously, leaving the words to scatter and ache within you all alone.

“You won’t,” you said. “You won’t ever lose me.”

“Of course, I consider a lot of what my parents tell me, but Heeseung,” you paused, allowing his name to scatter through the breeze, all soft, and yours. “No one can carry my life for me, at the end of the day, I want to be with you, and I will be.”

“There’s no one else in this world like you,” you whispered. It was a phrase stolen from him, yet, it seemed effective. Heeseung tried to prevent his happiness from materializing through his smile because he knew he would look like the fool he was for you. Yet, you could see his happiness in his eyes. The tiny dazzle they had as Heeseung reached for your waist, drawing you impossibly closer to him.

“I am ready,” he said.

You opened the door slowly, and your parents together with your grandmother were revealed to be in the living room. A deck of cards being quickly forgotten at the center table as your father stood up from one of the couches.

The afternoon light turned everything dazing.

“Me and Heeseung — we would like to talk with you,” you said.

There was a small pause, a small gap in time when no one moved, no one breathed. But then, your grandmother reached out, enclosing her hands on yours and Heeseung’s wrists, dragging both of you to the couch too.

“We should listen to what the youth has to say,” she smiled.

Heeseung would be lying if later on he said he remembered perfectly how the moment unfolded. He remembered you had taken his hand on yours, caressing the back of his hand. He remembered your father had sat back on the couch, running his hand through his hair. He remembered your mother nodding in encouragement. However, he had no memory of how he did start talking, how the story of his life simply was spread beneath the passing minutes. 

Yet it did and when he finished he noticed everyone was listening to him, not letting the moment escape like him.

“How old were you?” your father asked. “When all of this happened?”

“Twenty-one.”

“It’s too young,” the man sighed, looking at your mother. They were silently talking, and Heeseung had this impression that he had encountered something too intimate — too unique of people who loved each other so he turned to you instead.

You had your gaze already fixed on him, eyes gleaming, lips curling on a smile.

“Do you love her?” your mother asked. You stopped all of a sudden, surprised by the sudden question, but Heeseung didn’t falter for even a second before he replied.

“Yes, I do.”

“Then that’s what matters,” she said. “I have been telling Y/N’s father, we surely do not approve your way of earning life, but it’s on both of you. I raised her wanting the best, and by the best, I mean her happiness — if you can guarantee me that. I don’t mind the rest.”

“And as long as you don’t race with her in the car,” your father added.

“I won’t, sir.”

“Please, no sir — we are all family here.”

By the time Heeseung’s BMW reached the invisible line dividing the road from the shore, the sun had dipped to touch the horizon, the last sunset of the summer illuminating the ocean with straps of gold.

Your parents already had taken the road back to Seoul. Meanwhile Hayoung, Sunhae, that Jungwon guy of hers, and well, Jake were getting ready to take the opposite turn and go further into the small county — back to the university’s dorms, and its routine.

However, despite the gloomy sensation of the end, it seemed unbelievably peaceful, and vast.

You didn’t wait for Heeseung to turn the engine off, you leaped from the BMW the moment he parked, already barefoot and rushing through the sand as your laugh echoed through the cooling breeze.

Heeseung followed you, slowly, taking in how the water was hitting your thighs, damping the hem of your dress. He wasn’t surprised when you turned to him, the camera he had won for you at the carnival in your hands.

It seemed a lifetime since you both had been there, it seemed like no time at all.

“It’s the last one in this film,” you informed him, eyes squinting as you looked through the lens at him. “Do it prettily.”

You gave him no time, the flash came off, confusing him for a second before he saw you still grinning as you brought the camera away from your face, and he took the last step to reach you, palms spreading through your thighs, lifting you to his waist.

“You seem too happy to someone who’s going back to Seoul to start another university semester,” he said.

“My boyfriend is going with me, so of course I am happy.”

“Is he?” Heeseung asked.

“Yes, going to spend whole weeks with me.”

“Seems like he spoils you a lot.”

“He does,” you confirmed. “He says from the moment he saw me he was gone, willing to do anything I asked for.”

He laughed, throwing his head back, allowing the sun to bathe his skin, his mussed hair, beams of light simply not being able to not reach for him. He was all crafted on the unconditional gaiety he deserved as he closed his eyes for a long moment before he straightened himself back to you.

Your fingers spread through the sides of his neck, scattering shivers through his spine.

Heeseung had never believed in love, at least not the real thing, not the capable of awakening his soul and bringing peace to his mind type of love.

It happened to other people, in other places, but not to him in the small county of Hongcheon. Yet, it did.

As you leaned on him, forehead resting against his, lips brushing in a tantalizing kiss, he knew, that’s exactly what you had given to him, and he hoped he could give it back to you forever.

[moonstruckme]

heyy :)) would you maybe write something for remus with a reader that sometimes goes nonverbal?? i would really appreciate it, no pressure tho<33

Hi! I had to read up on this a bit, so I apologize for any inaccuracies. Thanks for requesting lovely!

cw: reader gets overstimulated

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 767 words

Shamefully, Remus doesn’t notice until you’re asked a question. Sirius has been on a rant about the injustice of him being expected to work while there’s a concert he wants to go to next week (he’s used up all his personal days, and his manager has finally caught on to his strategy of pretending to have diarrhea anytime he wants out of a shift) for the past twenty minutes, and James, sweetheart that he is, has tried to bring you into the conversation by asking if you’ve been to any shows you liked. 

Remus looks to you for your answer, thinking you might say something about the small concert in the park he’d taken you to before you’d started dating (or started dating officially, that is. Remus had been flirting with you for weeks before you caught on), but you only smile with one side of your mouth and nod. James takes it for shyness and moves on. 

Remus feels for your hand under the table intertwining your fingers with his as he ducks towards your ear. “You alright, dove?” 

You nod again, neglecting to talk as you rest the side of your head against his shoulder. Remus sweeps his thumb across the back of your hand pensively. You usually don’t have much trouble with his friends, but they are particularly loud tonight. All overeager, talking over each other and making noisy, boisterous sounds whenever one of them makes a joke or a baiting remark. The tables around you aren’t much tamer, everyone in the restaurant almost needing to shout to be heard. He supposes he should have guessed earlier that it could be overwhelming for you. 

“Do you want to go?” he murmurs. 

You tilt your head back to look at him, your eyes searching. Uncertain. 

“I’m ready to leave if you are,” Remus amends. Then you rub your lips together, nodding. “Yeah? Let’s go, lovely girl.” 

He stands, moving so you can slip out of the booth. Your table wails and jeers about you leaving so early, and Remus sets a hand on your back as he fields the complaints, leading you away. He’s not entirely ungrateful for the refreshing quiet as you step outside, either. 

Your eyes are on him as you walk to the car. Remus raises an eyebrow at you. 

“Do you have your pad with you?” 

You look hesitant, but nod. 

“Is there something you want to tell me?” 

You frown, digging the small notepad out of your back pocket. Remus passes you a pen. He unlocks his car and opens the door for you, going around to his own seat while you scribble on the page. Once he starts the engine to get the heat going, you nudge the notepad against his leg. 

He takes it, reading silently. Are you upset that I made us leave? We can go back if you want.

He suspects his incredulity shows on his face before he schools his expression into gentleness, looking up at you. “Of course I’m not upset,” he says, making sure to hold your gaze when you shy a bit, self-conscious. “I was ready to leave too, but besides that I wouldn’t want to stay if you weren’t having a good time. It’s never a bother.” He sets the notepad back in your lap, taking your hand in his. “Understand?” 

You nod, and the bashful little smile you give him makes Remus’ heart feel too big for his chest. 

“Good.” He imbues his voice with exaggerated sternness, rewarded when your cheek dimples. “Glad we’re clear on that. Is there anything else you need? You hardly touched your dinner, do you wanna get something before we go home?” 

You stick your tongue in your cheek. Remus recognizes the hesitance and releases your hand, pushing the pen back into it. 

“Write it down, sweetheart.” 

You sigh as though defeated. Your eyes squint a bit as you write, stopping for a second before finishing and passing the notepad back. 

Can we drive through somewhere? I don’t want to have to talk to anyone.

“Yeah, easy.” Remus slides it back to you, shifting the car into reverse and backing out of his parking spot. “Do you feel like a milkshake? We could go by the place just down our street, or whatever you—” You nod eagerly, and he smiles. “Yeah? Alright, just write down your order, okay? I’ll read it out when we get there.” You laugh your ass off when Remus unthinkingly reads your whole order aloud to the drive-thru worker, including the note at the end that says Thanks handsome, love you.

[leclsrc]

car sex with charles and/or saying I love you thru laughter (#2) or I haunt you in your sleep!!!!!!

shift gears – cl16

Charles picks you up in his Range Rover, which can only mean one thing.

auds here... i cried over ur bday greeting for me this a.m. so naturally i wrote car sex! i love you mackster

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... car sex, penetrative sex, semi-public setting, use of bunny as a petname, riding, size kink

Days where you get to fuck in the car are obvious and numbered, because those are the same days Charles picks you up in his black Range Rover instead of an obscenely showy red Ferrari (because the low ceiling will never grant either of you the patience to ride him). Half the time this car pulls up at your flat, you barely make it to the parking lot elevator you’re never not unscathed, fully dressed, or swollen-lipped.

Those are also the same days he gets back from work trips or races. The same days you have to make it to an event on time and nearly never do. Today is one of those days, which you really should’ve embedded into your head when you decided to wear a dress that ended far above your knees.

When you slid into the passenger seat and felt his eyes on you, his hand on your thigh, lingering. When he asked for a kiss for the road and deepened it, licking into your mouth until your thighs quivered and you were the one asking for his cock, when he instigated it all. When he parked at the far, dark end of the garage of this godforsaken restaurant, ushered you into the backseat, invited you on his spread lap. Pressed open-mouthed kisses all over your bare neck, licking over your collarbones.

“I really can’t be late tonight,” you mouth hotly into his skin, but your words ebb into a whimper at the feeling of his hand sneaking up your tiny dress. “Charles.”

“We’ll be quick, bunny,” he affirms, his rough hand groping at your ass shamelessly. “Missed you too much, putain.” He thumbs at the wet seat of your lace panties, pulling it to the side so he can bully himself into you, and for a minute it’s just you two breathing as you struggle to adjust to the girth of him, always a challenge after he’s away too long. 

Your doe eyes struggle to stay open, fluttering shut when they meet his dark ones. “So big,” you wrench out, your voice on the edge of a sob. 

“Remember what I tell you, baby?” He whispers into the air in-between the both of you. “Say it with me,” he continues, closer and closer to bottoming out.

“We’ll make it fit,” you whimper, finally fully seated on him. You’re clearly struggling already, the burn of lifting yourself up and down slowly, slowly, then faster, taking a toll on you and causing a sheen of sweat to form across your writhing body. “Please, please,” you beg, unknowing what for.

“I know, baby, I know. Feels good, yeah? Hard to stay quiet?”

He watches your pussy swallow all of him again and again, thumbs at your clit to watch you squirm and release sweet sounds, taking his cock like you were made for it. Your stuttered moans rise in volume every time he thrusts upward to meet you, his cock making nasty noises that only get you wetter. You’re so tight, so wet, dripping all over him and your thighs. 

“I can’t take it,” you say, eyes squeezed shut. “I’m—gonna fuckin’—”

He’s doing the work now, thrusting up into you and involuntarily jerking moans of his name past your lips every time his balls slap against you. “Come on, bunny, keep bouncing. Come for me,” he says between his teeth, pressing his hips flush against your ass, so deep you can feel it in your stomach. “You gonna be good, oui? For me?”

“Yes, yes,” you nod dumbly, “don’t stop, please.”

He tells himself you’re both doin a good job of being quiet, staying under the radar. His car’s as hulking as it was ridiculously expensive, and it’s sturdy, so it doesn’t shake much. He repeats the shitty lie to himself as he thrusts into you harder, and this time you’re almost wailing his name, mixed with expletives and pet names of your own making.

You’re squeezing him, gushing down the length of his cock, and he knows he’s not going to last long. “Right there, Charles,” you whimper, “wanted you to fuck me since you picked me up. Wore your favorite pair,” and fuck the pink lace wrung around your hips, this really is his favorite. 

“M’gonna cum if you don’t shut up,” he scolds, pounding into you and feeling just how close you are.

“Yeah, me—me too, baby, I—fill me up, I wan’ it,” you babble, and before you can even inhale, he’s emptying himself inside of you as you release hot and wet around him, his hands everywhere, just dying to get a feel of you underneath the thin material of your dress. My filthy girl, he murmurs into your neck, accent heavier than ever.

Your phone rings three inhales later, and your sweaty hand swipes clumsily to pick up Lando's call.

Hey, dinner’s starting in five.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, trying to not sound as breath-deprived as you are. You already feel the staccato vibrations of your boyfriend against your damp skin at the poorly-hidden lie and hide a laugh of your own. Quietly, he bites at your skin and squeezes the flesh of your waist. I love you, he whispers amidst laughs, at the same time Lando asks: You guys done driving?

You blow a silent kiss, and then clarify: “Just finished.”

[buckybarnesb-tch]

Why am i ready for stalker aemond that has slow burn and is super angsty? like someone who isnt afraid of his scar in preschool then moves away but he found her in either social media or a sports meet and started stalking from then on and then he goes to the same college and remembers her schedule, which dorm shes in and trying to get in her room at night or is in the dorm across from her and ugh i could start a fic tbh

Never Ending Obsession -Aemond T.

If you do start a Fic, 100% tag me in that sh*t! I would LOVE to read it, but because you sent it to me imma give it a go for you cause it sounds delicious! I hope it is everything you want it to be!

Yandere!Aemond. Major Stalking! You’ve Been Warned!

DD:DNE

Aemond considered Y/n to be a miracle from the day he met her.

It was the first day of Pre-School and he wanted to be anywhere but there, surrounded by other students. He wanted to be at home with his mother, or even his big brother, anyone just to get away from the staring children.

Aemond had learned almost as soon as his cousin had sliced his face open that while adults would stare, they would at least be discreet about it, children were not. Aemond, while being a child, didn’t consider himself one, and it was something most adults found amusing as he would much rather spend time with his mother or the adults in his family than with his siblings or cousins. He would rather read than play with toys, rather watch movies his mother liked than ones his siblings enjoyed, it’s just the way Aemond had always been…until her.

All of the children stared at him from the moment he walked in and said “goodbye” to his mother. The staff tried to direct the children away, told them it was rude to stare, but they weren’t always paying attention and trying to get a bunch of 4 year olds attention when they’re locked onto something is…difficult at best. Around lunch time the staff had left all but one in the room to prepare food for the kids and suddenly Aemond found a boy much larger than him to be holding his eyepatch in his hand, the children around him laughing and teasing immediately. The teacher was on the other side of the room and oblivious as Aemond tried to grab his eyepatch back, the other boy shoving him to the ground before he was suddenly laying right beside Aemond holding his crotch and wailing in pain. A blonde girl that Aemond could only describe as beautiful was standing above him with an angry look on her face.

‘What did he ever do to you?! Huh?! Leave Him Alone!’ She snatched the eyepatch from the portly child’s hand and moved to hand it back to Aemond who strapped it back on immediately. ‘Are you okay?’ Aemond nodded quickly, opening his mouth to speak but finding no words that would come out. ‘I’m Y/n, you’re Aemond, right?’ He nodded again, mouth hanging open dumbly and looking like an idiot he is sure. ‘I’m sorry he did that, No one should be mean like that for something you can’t help and you don’t have to tell no one nothing…I’m sorry, you want to be alone.’ She turned to walk away when he finally got his voice box to work…sadly it had been muted so long that the sound he finally made was a bit too loud.

‘NO!’ He exclaimed and she jumped, turning back to him instantly. ‘I’m sorry…I mean, no, I don’t want to be alone…it’s nice to meet you Y/n…do you want to sit with me for lunch?’ She smiled, a red tint to her cheeks and Aemond decided he absolutely adored her pretty smile.

‘Yeah…that sounds fun.’ She grabbed ahold of his hand and pulled him over to a table, handing him a place mat and some crayons to decorate it with. Coloring was never something Aemond had really enjoyed, Art wasn’t his thing, but if Y/n enjoyed it then so did he.

Aemond and Y/n spent the rest of the day together before pick-up and as soon as he said “good-bye”, leaving with his mothers driver and climbed into the car beside his mom, he was talking about her. Alicent was thrilled that her son had made a friend his own age, while it’s entertaining to see her 4 year old boy so grown-up and mature, she didn’t want him to miss out on being a child just because he didn’t have any friends.

At the end of the week, after learning that Aemond and Y/n’s friendship wasn’t going anywhere, Alicent stood outside to pick her son up rather than wait in the car for their driver to get him. She watched her son run outside, hand in hand with a girl a bit shorter than him and they looked truly adorable. ‘Mom!’ Her son exclaimed, excited to see her waiting for him herself and deciding she should do this more often to see that smile so rare on her baby’s face.

‘Hello, my sweet Little Dragon! How was your day?’ She asked, watching the girl run to a women a few feet away and take her hand.

‘It was so good! Y/n and I made pictures of our families for the wall-wait! You need to meet her! Y/n!’ Aemond exclaimed, the girl stopping and her mother looking back as well, slightly irritated. ‘Mom, this is Y/n, she’s my best friend!’ He grinned and so did Y/n who hugged him at that deceleration.

‘Well, if she’s your best friend then you must have her over for a play date. Would that be alright?’ She asked the girls mom.

‘Oh, yes, of course. Anytime.’ She spoke, writing down her number on a piece of paper. ‘I’m Marie, it’s nice to meet you, Y/n talks about your boy all the time.’

‘Mom!’ The girl whined, the mothers sharing a side smile at their kids evident first crush on each other.

‘It’s lovely to meet you, I’m Alicent. How about tomorrow? She can come by and spend the day with us, I’ll drop her at home after dinner?’ Her mom looked surprised.

‘That’s perfect actually, I have work all day. Text me your address and what time to drop her off, she will love spending the day with Aemond rather than the neighbor. I’m sorry to say I’m in a rush to get back to work, it was nice meeting you Alicent, and you too Aemond. Come on Y/n, let go.’

‘Bye Aemond!’ Y/n waved, her mother dragging her off. She didn’t strike Alicent as rude, just in a bit of a hurry. You could clearly see the difference in their status in life, if not just from the fact that Y/n’s mother was wearing a waitress uniform and Alicent was wearing a Versace dress and Gucci shoes. She finds herself wondering how the women pays for the fancy daycare at all.

Alicent had married rich, Viserys happy to give her anything she wants as long as she doesn’t bother him at work, and he’s always at work. When he’s not however he is spending time with his daughter from his first marriage, Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra is 24 now, Viserys being significantly older than Alicent but she didn’t mind, he was a good, gentle man and that was hard to come by now a days. She had 2 sons, Jace who was 5 and Luke who was 3 (a child she detested for being the one who had sliced her baby’s face open 6 months before as he ran around the mansion with an old dagger from Viserys’ office and didn’t pay attention to her son sitting on the ground), though Rhaenyra was also pregnant with another child, none of which are her husbands clearly but that’s not her business… Alicent has 3 children of her own, Aegon who was 7, Helaena who was 5 and Aemond who had just turned 4, though she also suspected she was carrying a child that she hoped was a girl if not just to keep another boy from the chaos and bullying that goes on between the siblings and cousins.

‘Y/n is gonna spend the whole day with me?!’ Aemond suddenly exclaimed, knocking his mother from her thoughts.

‘Yes, she is. You’ll need to plan what you two want to do for the day and I’ll make sure Aegon doesn’t disturb you.’

‘Jace and Luke either?’ He asked…begged is more like.

‘Jace and Luke either, I’ll make sure they have something to do when they come tomorrow.’ The family always came to the house on the weekends as Viserys took that time for his family…part of it anyway.

‘Yay! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!’ Alicent was thrilled to see her son so happy…she had no idea it would be so incredibly short lived.

Y/n had begun spending the day with Aemond every day, coming to their house in their car after school, her mother coming to get her after work to take her home looking more tired than the night before. Alicent had tried to help the poor women. It turns out her husband had cheated on her while she was pregnant and gotten another women pregnant, divorcing her for his mistress and son. He’s the one who paid for the fancy preschool while her mother worked 3 jobs to keep everything afloat in their one bedroom apartment, since he paid for such a nice school he only paid 200 in child support leaving Marie with everything else and all the debt he had left behind in her name.

Alicent was happy to watch Y/n whenever she needed, it made her son happy and that’s all she wanted in the world. She had been so scared for him before he met Y/n that he would end up going down a dark path, the bullying at home and at school having been hard for him as well as his father clearly loving the child who had butchered him more than his own son.

That all came to a grinding halt however when Y/n’s mom was evicted from her apartment leaving them homeless, forcing them to move in with Marie’s ex-mother in-law who lived in New York. Aemond had tried to promise to visit every weekend before Alicent was forced to explain just how far away New York was from California, to say the children were upset was a huge understatement. The teary good-bye nearly broke the mothers hearts as they swore to write to each other every day, and they did, they both learned to write faster than any of the kids their age just to write to each other and it lasted about a year. Y/n’s grandmother had found out she was writing to a boy in California and cut it off, threatening to take Y/n away from her mother if her mother didn’t stop the interaction. Marie wrote Alicent and explained what had happened leaving her to break her baby’s heart all over again.

Aemond became cold after that. He had no more friends, detested his cousins, tolerated his brothers and only loved Helaena though she was with friends everyday of her life. He took his schooling very seriously, taking several extra curricular’s on the side to take up his time which consisted of Jiu-Jitsu, Tae Kwon Do, and oddly enough, sword fighting which Alicent didn’t support right away until he promised to start with fencing. It turned out that he was really good at it and his father hired a trainer, Criston Cole, to teach him sword fighting, paying to transform a room in the mansion into a training room.

Once Aemond got to middle school, no one was bullying him anymore after breaking 3 kids noses and 2 of their arms. When he turned 14 and moved up to high school he had finally broken down and created an Instagram account. Aemond hated social media, he found it annoying and pointless, but he quickly found a use for it once he looked up Y/n and found her account. It wasn’t private, making it easy to look through all of her pictures, finding out that she still lived in New York with just her Grandmother now as her mother had passed away in a hit and run with a drunk driver when she was 9. She had many pictures with her and another girl who seemed to be her best and only friend and nowhere could Aemond find anything about a boyfriend which gave him an instant sense of relief. He had spent the last almost 10 years obsessing over her, though he kept it to himself. He had sent her a letter a few years before, hoping that maybe now that they had grown a bit she would be able to write him back but it was returned unopened with a note that told him to never send anything again or her grandmother would file a restraining order.

For the next 2 years he was as content as he could be watching her life through social media, until their junior year that is when he decided to pay a man to hack into her computer, actually watching what he did and figuring out how to go about doing it himself. He read all of her emails from then on, finding out what colleges she was applying to and applying himself, knowing he would obviously get in with his incredible grades and extra curricular’s. Her grandmother was forcing her to go to college, wanting her to be a physical therapist despite the fact that she wanted to be an artist. Aemond had found she had a separate, secret Instagram account that her grandmother didn’t know about that held all of her paintings and sketches, and she was honestly incredible.

Aemond had decided that when she was his she would drop out of college and move in with him, she would have her own little art studio to do whatever she wanted in. He would buy her anything she wanted, give her everything in the world if she only asked for it, Y/n Y/L/n was going to be his wife…whether she knew it yet or not.

At 18, Aemond moved out to New York for the year, deciding not to go to college but convincing his father to open a branch of his publishing business out there and let him set everything up for him. It wouldn’t be hard, honestly Aemond would pay others to do everything and just oversee the company while he watched over his Princess. He had already been stalking her online for over 4 years and in her own computer for 2, this was hardly a step up.

Alicent knew of course, she knew that her son had become more than a little obsessed with his childhood friend and she knew that that’s why her boy was going to New York, she had been the one to talk her husband into letting him go. She wanted him to be happy, by any means necessary after all this time of misery and if he needed Y/n to make that happen then she was more than happy to welcome the sweet girl into the family. Even if she knew what her son was doing was wrong, she couldn’t change his mind, and she didn’t want to. Alicent loved Y/n and she knew that if there was one person in the world that her son would never hurt, it was her.

He watched from across the Quad as she arrived at the school, unpacking her things from the car and moving it all into her dorm room, a room which Aemond had made sure was a single for only her, he also made sure he had acquired a key for himself. He felt horrible that he couldn’t help her move things, especially the heavy things, but he knew there was no way she wouldn’t recognize him, and she clearly remembered him. She had several old pictures uploaded to her Instagram of the two of them together, one of them at a Carnival with their faces painted (which she had made him do, even forcing the painter to paint over the eyepatch since it would wash off), one of them carving pumpkins on Halloween, and Aemond’s personal favorite, a picture of the two of them snuggled up in his bed as she had slept over the night before, she was snuggled into his chest with his arms around her and his face in her hair which covered the scar completely. He knew she had plenty of pictures of the two of them without his eye patch on but she never put them online and he loved her for that, even if she didn’t know it yet. Next to his mother, she was the only person who really understood how sensitive he was about his scar and she never made him feel less than because of it, he knew she would never betray him, not even having shown her mother the pictures without the eyepatch.

He followed her to all of her classes, often watching them through the security cameras he had hacked into (becoming quite good at it) to see her during class, he had always loved her look of concentration as her eyes narrowed and she looked like she was scowling at you, she was adorable. He had placed several cameras in her room as well, watching her whenever he could, all she really did was school work and he realized how overwhelmed she was by college life, school was never her environment, it was too stressful for her and her free spirited mind and he knew it. He also knew that her Grandmother had threatened to kick her out onto the streets if she didn’t go to college for what she told her to, he had plans for that women, she will get what she deserves.

On several occasions he was witness to moments that he knew should be private, whether that be her stressed out crying or more…intimate moments. He couldn’t help but watch as her fingers touched her pretty little pussy, rubbing her clit and listening to the sweet sounds she made trying to be quiet, he couldn’t help but wrap his fingers around his length and edge himself right along with her, imagining those fingers in her cunt were his cock, desperate to feel her soft, warm pussy squeezing him as tight as it could as he made her cum again and again until she couldn’t take it anymore. He had fantasized about making her cum on his cock since he was 13 years old and by now he was more than desperate for her.

There were a few nights he actually snuck into the dorms and into her room, watching her sleep up close, trailing his fingers down her body, hating that he can’t just crawl into the bed beside her and hold her tight while he shoves his cock into her and makes her fall asleep with it as deep as it can get.

2 months he watched her before knowing he needed to make her his now, before it was too late. She had been asked out on a date by a Frat guy, begging to take her to a party and Aemond knew he couldn’t allow this.

The Frat boy got a visit from him later that night, waking up to Aemond sitting on the edge of his bed and realizing he had been tied down so tight that the ropes were cutting off circulation to his hands and feet. ‘Hello Chad, so sorry to wake you but this is a very important matter you see. Scream, and I will bash your brains in before anyone can even find out the door is locked, got it?’ He nodded quickly, terror in his eyes and Aemond found that he loved it, he loved scaring people that would hurt his Princess, she doesn’t deserve the kind of treatment this idiot would give her and Aemond knew that party wasn’t anything more than to make fun of his girl. The Frat assholes all getting a freshman girl to come to the ‘party’ and whichever guy could get their girl to put out first won some bullshit prize.

No. His Princess would not be humiliated like that.

‘You see Chad, you are bringing a girl back here tomorrow night, her name is Y/n, yes?’ He nodded again.

‘I didn’t know she was your girl, she didn’t say anything like that! I would never-‘

‘Yes you would, don’t lie to me Chad, boyfriend or not you would happily have brought her back here and made her a part of your little game.’ His eyes widened, unsure how Aemond could possibly know about that. ‘You’re not going to pick her up tomorrow Chad, do you understand? I will not have my Princess hurt and humiliated by an idiotic asshole who realistically couldn’t make a girl smile let alone cum. Now, this is just a warning of course, if I find out you went anywhere near her after our little conversation here, I would have to do something far worse than break into your disgusting Frat house and break your eye socket, do you get me?’

‘Yes! Yes, I-wait…break my wha-‘ quickly Aemond brought the bat he had picked up from the floor, down against the jackasses face, shoving the edge of his blanket into his mouth as he went to scream.

‘Secretly, I hope you do try something just so I get to have an excuse to come back here and break every one of your ribs before I ensure no women will ever say yes to a date with you again.’ He flicked open a blade, holding it against Chads face and hearing him whimper like a bitch. ‘It’s okay Chad, I’m not going to hurt you as long as you do what I’ve said here tonight. Are we on the same page?’ He nodded quickly and Aemond stood, walking out of the room and leaving the house, deciding on taking the bat with him, just in case.

The next night Y/n waited in the Quad at 9 o’clock, cursing out the asshole who didn’t pick her up and feeling the tears welling up in her eyes. She had been so alone here all this time, in a place she didn’t want to be at in the first place and just when she thought someone might be interested in her, even an asshole Frat jock, he stands her up. She felt like she couldn’t hold it in anymore, trying to muffle her cries with the sleeves of her hoodie before hearing someone speak to her.

‘Are you alright Princess?’ Princess? No one had called her Princess since-

Her head snapped up and she saw a very tall man standing about 5 feet away, he was lanky but still covered in muscle that you could clearly see through his tight henley shirt, he wore jeans and heavy boots with his silver hair tied in a bun at the back of his head. They black eyepatch sealed the deal for her though, if she didn’t already assume who this is, now she knows. ‘Aemond? Is that you?’

‘In the flesh…why are you crying Princess?’ He moved to sit beside her on the edge of the fountain and she just stared at him in shock.

‘I…I got stood up-what are you doing here?!’ He smiled sweetly and she couldn’t help but think how handsome her best friend had become…he’s a panty dropper!

‘I’m in New York setting up a branch here for Dad, the school however, my father has recently become a benefactor of, Daeron wants to come to school here for a year to start his doctorate in 2 years, you know dad, start bribing them as early as possible.’ He joked and she giggled, remembering exactly how Viserys used to be. She never had seen him much, which she understood was Aemond’s experience too, but he was always very sweet to her, bringing her gifts and sweets with all of his other children since she was there almost 100% of the time.

‘Did you know I was here?’ He nodded and she glared half heartedly at him. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?!’ She raged, punching him in the arm.

‘We’ll mostly because I sent a letter a few years after you left and your grandmother wrote back that I would receive a restraining order if I ever contacted you again. That’s why I never reached out online either, I didn’t want to get you in trouble if she found out.’ Her face fell as he told her that and her tears began streaming again. ‘No more tears Princess, please? Such a gorgeous girl should never feel the need to shed a tear.’ He reached up, taking her face in his hands and wiping her tears with his thumbs tenderly.

‘I’m sorry she did that to you! I wanted to talk to you so badly, everyday! She was so awful to my mom and I thought maybe I would be able to talk to you when we were older but she kept tabs on everything I ever did and now I’m being forced to go to this shitty fucking school and live on campus all alone, and suffocate under a course load that I didn’t want in the first place…I just wanted to paint…and the first time I think maybe I could actually not be completely alone here I get stood up by an asshole Frat jerk!’ Aemond had pulled her to his chest as soon as she started ranting, knowing she needs someone to be there for her and he was determined to make sure it was him. ‘And now I’m ranting to you when you clearly have places to be, I’m sorry!’ She tried to pull away but he didn’t let her, lifting her into his lap for good measure and smiling at the squeak that came from her when she was sat down on him.

‘None of that Princess, you have always been and will always be most important, and I finished my meeting. I’m all yours.’ He said it in a way that he hoped she would hear his dedication to her, and she did, she heard it and couldn’t help but hope he meant he really was all hers. ‘Do you have classes tomorrow?’ She shook her head, resting it against his chest and he felt his entire body heat up as he held her to him firmly, determined that no one would ever take her away again. ‘Okay, then here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to go back to my place, you’re going to borrow some clothes and we’re going to order dinner-‘

‘No, you have things to do, you’re working here, I can’t-‘

‘No, I can’t! I can’t leave you like this, and I won’t, I will take care of you…you’re mine Princess.’ She looked up at him shocked and he tried his best to convey how hard it’s been without seeing her for the last 14 years. ‘I let them take you from me once, I won’t do it again now that I’ve found you…don’t make me let you go back to a dorm all alone…I won’t do it Y/n.’ She nodded her head quickly, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.

‘I missed you so much Aemond, if you’re sure you’re not too busy-‘

‘I will never be too busy for you. My weekend is yours, come on.’ He helped her stand up but didn’t let go of her, keeping his arm around her waist as he took her bag and led her down to the parking lot where his car is waiting. Aemond opened the door and lifted her into the car, hearing her gasp as he man handled her in, not once complaining about it. The drive was quick back to his home, it was an apartment in a high rise building and he loved watching her eyes slowly widen as she watched the numbers on the elevator go up and up, all the way to the top.

‘You have a penthouse apartment?’ He nodded, smirking down at her and she shoved him playfully.

‘Surely you can’t forget how we live Y/n, you think my father would let me stay anywhere else. Even if I am the least favorite, he insists on a certain condition of living for his family…he would be appalled by your state by the way, and I’m sure once I tell him he will be fixing it-‘

‘What are you talking about? I’m already in a single dorm, I have everything I-‘

‘You shouldn’t be living in a dorm room with God knows how many other women all sharing a bathroom, you’re basically family-‘

‘But I’m not.’ She cut him off and he looked at her startled as he opened the door. ‘Look at this place Aemond! It’s an apartment and I could never afford something like this! I love that you think of me as a sister and your parents think of me like an honorary child but I’m not, I am a peasant compared to you and that will never change, we live in 2 different worlds Aemond.’ He stared at her, trying to calm himself before opening his mouth.

‘You loved being a part of our family…you never judged me for how I lived before-‘

‘I’m not judging you-‘

‘But you are! I don’t like the idea that you think we’re in 2 different worlds, because I never want to exist in a world where you are not beside me, you will never live like that again, not now that I’ve found you. And the fact that you think I ever thought of you like a sister…well it’s just disgusting.’ He explained, leaning down and brushing his lips against hers as lightly as possible before moving to the kitchen, putting her bag on the couch. ‘Now, what would you like for dinner? Are you still a pizza girl, or would you like Chinese? We can get burgers too.’ He offered, pulling out a burger place menu, knowing that’s what she would pick and she quickly did, her whole face red in a heavy blush.

They ordered dinner and Aemond had a man go and pick it up for them while they chose a scary movie to watch. Aemond had loaned her one of his Henley’s before getting her a pair of his boxers from the drawer and letting her change, throwing her clothes into the wash and not being able to stop the creepy stalker inside of him from smelling her panties before putting them in. He had to stop himself from jumping her the second he walked back into the room, seeing his Princess wearing his clothes and sitting in his bed clearly waiting for him.

He set the food down, handing her her chocolate milkshake before stripping to his boxers and climbing into the bed beside her. He saw her try to hide her reddening cheeks as she looked at him, staring at his muscular chest before tearing her eyes away. It wasn’t until he noticed her rubbing her legs together that he felt his cock begin to twitch. She was just as effected by him as he was by her and he was going to have her!

They talked through the movie while eating, getting to know each other, mostly her getting to know him but he asked questions to things he knows the answers to but shouldn’t, and he loved that no matter how personal, she never once lied to him about anything. After all this time she still felt completely comfortable with him.

‘Oh! Mother will be so excited to see you! Come here!’ He held up his phone and pulled her to him, taking a picture of them quickly with her back to his chest as his arm wrapped across her shoulder and torso, his face nuzzled against her hair. It smelled like mangos and pomegranates, everything about her was just perfect.

‘Wait! You’re shirtless! She’s gonna think-‘

‘What?’ He asked, smirking down at her, humor written all over his face as he waited for her to say it. ‘What is she going to think, Princess?’

‘Nothing, never mind.’ She rolled her eyes, leaning against him as the movie finished, Aemond now laying down on the pillows with her head on his chest as if they were children at a sleepover once again.

‘I really did miss you Y/n…there wasn’t one day that I didn’t think about you.’ He willed his cock to stop twitching as she traced her finger around his stomach.

‘I missed you too, I never forgot about you Aemond. You know, I often wondered how someone who had been in my life for such little time could be such a big part of it but you were…you are. I never stopped loving you.’ He took hold of her chin, turning her head to face him and traced her bottom lip with his thumb lightly.

‘I am never leaving you again…tell me you’re mine.’ She gasped quietly, hesitating only a moment before nodding. ‘I know you want me…tell me you’re mine Y/n…tell me.’

‘I’m yours-‘ He cut her off instantly, lips crashing to hers hard and pulling her against his chest firmly. One arm held her waist firmly while his other hand buried his fingers into her hair. He licked her bottom lip, his tongue instantly exploring her mouth as she parted them, sucking her tongue between his lips and making her giggle. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling the hair tie out and tugging it firmly prompting him to bite down on her lip roughly making her squeal.

‘Such fun noises you make, you’ve no idea how long I’ve wondered what you would sound like for me!’ He rolled on top of her, hauling her legs up around his waist and grinding his crotch against her.

‘Oh! Oh Fuck Aemond! Feels so good!’ She whined as he ground his hard cock down against her.

‘You have no idea Princess, I’m going to make you see stars.’ He swore, grabbing ahold of the bottom of his shirt and pulling it up and off of her. ‘So fucking perfect baby, perfect fucking tits!’ His lips wrapped around her rosy nipple, sucking hard and chuckling when her back arched up into him as he did this. He switched tits, pulling her hardened peak between his teeth teasingly before beginning to kiss and suck his way down her stomach, fingers catching on her boxers and pulling them down, throwing them off to the side of the bed. He took a pause, leaning back and looking down at her…Finally seeing his girl on his bed laid out for him…nothing could be sweeter. She closed her legs awkwardly, unsure why he stopped but he quickly caught them, yanking them apart again roughly. ‘No you don’t gorgeous! You’re mine, all mine. I’m allowed to look at what’s mine. All fucking mine.’ He growled, leaning back down and shoving his face between her legs, tasting her for the first time. Aemond lifted her legs onto his shoulders, sucking on her clit and grinning as he heard her loud, needy cries.

‘Fuck, yes! Please? Please Aemond, don’t stop?!’ Stop? Stop? What is Stop? He couldn’t define that word right now, it didn’t fucking exist to him as he flattened his tongue and traced it down to her hole, pushing into her and moaning at how tight his little cunt was for him. He peeked up at her as he began fucking into her with his tongue, his nose brushing against her clit and making her squeal. ‘Oh God!’

‘No!’ He cut her off, fingers rubbing hard at her clit as he looks up at her and she tries to pull away from the almost painful attention on her body. ‘Tonight, I am your God. Do you understand me? Tonight you pray to me while I worship this body. Yes?’

‘Yes! YES! Please God, Please?!’ She sobbed, tears falling from her eyes now as she teetered on the edge, so close and needing one last push.

‘Yes Princess.’ He moaned, pushing his long fingers into her and shoving her over that edge just as she needed, watching her face contort in ecstasy as she came, hips lifting off of the bed as she screamed.

‘Fuck Aemond!’

‘There’s my good girl! Cumming so good for me.’ He kissed his way back up her body, removing his boxers as he did and leaning against her, taking his thick cock in his hand and preparing to push himself into her. ‘How do you feel baby?’ She just moaned, nodding her head and pulling him down to kiss her and as she did he pressed his cock against her hole, driving his hips home and finding her cute little squeal completely adorable. ‘So good!’ Aemond groaned, pulling out and pushing into her again. ‘So fucking tight on me, aren’t you?’ She nodded, her mouth hanging open as if screaming but no sound was coming out. ‘Yes you are, so good to me, this little pussy loves my cock so much, feel how she’s pulsing around me? She knows my cock is the only one that can make you feel like this. The only one that ever will again.’ He had picked up his pace and was now slamming into her over and over again. ‘You’re mine now Princess, all mine! Mine to care for, mine to love, mine to fuck! Isn’t that right?’

‘Yes! Yes Aemond! All yours! Please, please never stop! Oh Fuck!’

‘No need to beg Baby.’ Tears were now leaking down her cheeks and he knew he had her just where he wanted her. He could get her to agree to anything he’d like. He felt her cunt tighten around him and watched her eyes roll up as she came around his cock, squeezing so good he could make a case for why this wasn’t Earth anymore but Heaven that they were tethered to. His thumb found her clit as he sat back, thrusting into her at a rapid pace and feeling his end approaching quickly, throwing her into another orgasm before allowing himself to finish, burying his cock inside of her as deeply as he could and filling her up. ‘That’s it. Good Girl, taking all of me so good. I’m gonna take you home, back to where you belong with our family. No more school you don’t want to be in, no more grandparents you despise, just you and me and all of the babies that I’m going to fill this body with. How does that sound?’ Y/n’s responding moan was answer enough for him, whether it was meant to be or not. ‘All mine now Princess…all mine.’

Stalker Aemond Moodboard

Aemond Targaryen Masterlist

[anisdolly]

・ 。.・゜✭・.・✫ . ✭・.・✫・✭ .・゜・。.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ quiet now, will you?

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀STRICTLY 18+.

WARNINGS: bratfem!reader x dom!modernau!anakin, dirty talking, teasing, clit play, he likes to command just a bit too much.

summary: anakin is taking you home after picking you up from your shift, and of course he is hungry as fuck. just...you're feeling bratty.

・ 。.・゜✭・.・✫ . ✭・.・✫・✭ .・゜・。.

“h-hey!” you lament, hands quickly folding together to push the fabric of your sweater between your legs. the little fist they created stays there, pressed right between a drenched cunt, his hand and your thighs—a vain, and rather pathetic, attempt to stop your boyfriend from getting what he was craving. “h-hand away!”

it had been already a long day at work—your boss making you run from one office to the other just because her spoiled daughter wanted to read a book that wasn’t even fucking released yet. last thing you need, was anakin all over your pussy, and his car’s seat dirty. maybe you should’ve thought twice before shoving yourself into more comfortable clothes—a thick sweater that worked more as a short, barely covering dress—and keep your tailleur instead.

anakin just watches you squirm and use your only cloth as a barrier, his blue eyes gleaming with wicked delight before a low chuckle escapes his lips. his hand, determined in feeling more, comes to rest atop the hoodie mound you just created after abruptly pushing yours away, pressing down against the fabric just enough to feel the warmth and dampness underneath.

"'hand away'…" he teases mockingly, his voice resonating with that deep sound that is exclusively his. "think you got the power to make demands, princess? after i haven’t seen you for an entire day?" a playful, yet starved edge lines his words with a smirk. his fingers begin to move in a slow, deliberate circle over the hoodie, not enough to touch directly, but the implication is there—a reminder of the control he holds over your pretty body.

it gets you writhing and panting instantly, and as you wrap your hand around his wrist to try and move him away, the pressure only gets more insistent. so much, that what sounds like a tiny moan flips out of your mouth. you really thought you had the strength to push him away? tsk.

“a-ani…c-c’mon…” you cry, but your hips were betraying you by basically humping against his hand.

he simply scoffs at your pitiful wail, enjoying the friction of your core over his digits. “never this drenched. not even when i cum all over it.”

the car's engine hums and thrums to life as anakin lets his hand linger over your hidden cunt, driving you insane with the need for more in only seconds. yet, he never really gives you what you need. you were always so fucking perfect with your innocent blush and eager body—he loves how you respond to him so quickly, despite your best efforts. even if, at times, he has to push you a bit more. but it’s alright, because your pussy always spoke louder than your useless words.

anakin’s other hand grips the shifter, his knuckles white as he pulls it into reverse, his gaze finally breaking away from you to check the mirrors. his actions dual; driving the car while driving you mad, and it was an easy combination to him. probably it became a skill after all the other times he fingered you in that passenger seat, making you cum more than one time in less than six miles.

and even as he pulls out of the parking spot, he keeps his eyes on the task while his body did not—his driving smooth and practiced, while his fingers softly toy with you.

"quiet now, angel." he murmurs, licking his lips in what seems a concentrated—yet unbothered—expression. “don’t wanna be pulled over by cops while i milk my fingers, right?”

the car backs out from the parking lot and, as he finds the way to the road home, the vibrations of the moving vehicle add an entirely new layer to the torture you are already being put under. your doe eyes look like more interested in the movements of his fingertips rather than the road ahead, and your hole clutches around nothing.

and then, anakin found your clit even through all those layers of fabric, pushing a full-on moan out of your lungs. how the hell does he manage that? every fucking time?

“b-babe…please—” you grit out while your body heat increases more and more, and your soaked panties practically damp the sweater too.

"hey. told ya, quiet.” anakin commands again, this time way sterner than before. “if you can stay silent and good, maybe—maybe—you’ll get the reward you’re dripping for. but make even a little noise, and i’ll leave you wantin’ and aching all the damn way back."

his hand presses a little harder before pulling away completely, making you tremble at the loss, before it reaches for the gear shift to help drive on the dark street. "so…let’s see how good my little princess can really be, hm?"

your lover could feel the stickiness on his fingertips, highlighting his hunger. god, he could still taste the sweetness of your pussy from the previous night, and the scent of your arousal is the car made his pupils dilate. but there’s nothing more easy for anakin than to have self control when it comes to teasing you. so he stays in his seat, driving carelessly, as if his index and middle didn’t just turn you into a heated whore.

but tonight, you are having none of it. who does he think he is? making fun of you like that? after you had one of the most stressful days of the week at work, and even told him? hell the fuck no. just like he started, he was gonna make you finish.

“mmhm! no!” you huff out, your hands clutching the excessively long sleeves of your sweater before smacking right onto your thighs in frustration. “p-put it back there!” the pout on your face mixes with what seems a frown—this was a stance that you never dared to take before, but that now came automatically at his carefree demeanor and actions.

“now.”

whiny brat.

at your defiance, anakin’s sharp jaw clenches tightly and almost immediately. a surge of possessiveness tightens around his heart like a vice, the call to put you back in your damn place taking over any restraint he had been putting onto his own emotions. that sudden insistence in your voice makes him laugh dryly, simply not to reach out and pull your hair like you fucking deserved.

"ahhh, what did i say about zipping it?" his voice is a lethal purr, and his eyes, blue like shards of ice, caught yours in the review mirror. "seems someone’s already beggin’ for punishment." and as he continues to navigate the deserted streets, the silence of the night around you feels almost like an accomplice to whatever was about to happen inside that poor range rover.

but still, you don’t relent, staring right back into his eyes as your lids turn into two thin lines. “i’m not.” you respond, fists tightening even more with rage.

anakin drums his fingers on the steering wheel, the rhythmic tapping sending a message of impatience as he considers your outburst with a sickening silence. with a quick glance to ensure the road is empty, he slows the car, almost to a crawl. the sudden braking gets you to jerk forward, but thankfully the seatbelt prevents you from hitting your head. it makes you yelp, though, and your eyes squeeze.

"you want it there, right? is that how you ask for something, you snappy brat?” he almost barks at you, noticing how your expression is a mixture of defiance and surprise before snapping his eyes fully back towards the road.

and then, anakin reaches over with a masterful slowness, allowing the back of his knuckles to graze across the swell of your breast through the sweater, then down your stomach, before hovering just millimeters away from your needy, aching pussy. “touch this?” the scent emanating from there is still so strong, the window couldn't air it out.

“y-yeah…” you gulp, following the path of his hand with your trembling eyes, while thinking that your little tantrum did the thing. but the next words he speaks get that smug and aroused expression off of your face just as quickly as it came.

"want me to touch your pathetic cunt? funny. you break the rules, sweet girl, you get nothin'." his voice is firm yet threaded with a dark desire. "you keep being this disobedient...hmmph, i might just have to spank that pretty ass of yours until you remember who's in charge here.” then, just as abruptly, he shifts his hand away, up to the damn shift again.

now, you think twice before humming a lament. last time he slapped your ass, you were barely able to sit.

"but if you’re good—and i mean real good—you’ll get what's coming to you. i’ll fuck your worthless hole until you're screamin', breed you until you can't think...all those dirty things you like."

“i-i’m not being—” but you don’t even manage to finish your phrase as anakin makes a hard turn, taking the rover to a more secluded area—a field just by the street, apparently empty. your nails claw at each side of your seat, trying to keep you steady, and that belt helps you once again.

he told you to be fucking quiet, why you still speaking?

the headlights illuminated the open space as he pulls over, then switches off the engine, and turns in his seat to face you properly. "fucking crybaby." anakin sneered, glaring your startled body up and down. "listen up. you've got one chance to show me how good you can be for daddy. are you gonna take it, or do i have to remind you just how hard i can make that little pussy beg for me?"

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 9

part 1 | part 8 | ao3

cw: medical emergency

He ditches his car at the top of the street, runs the rest of the way because there are too many people standing around — a small crowd of onlookers clustered at the bottom of the lane, gawking in their sleep shirts and flannels like the world isn’t trying to end for a fourth time. Fifth? He can’t keep track. He can’t even think, numb to everything but the pounding of his shoes against the pavement, the sirens wailing in his ears, the steady prayer in his pulse not her not now not both—

“Mom?” he shouts, voice cracking and raw. “Mom!!”

“It’s not for her.”

There’s a hand against his chest then, heel of a palm pressed to his sternum, and he slams into it like a brick wall. The air burns in his lungs; he can’t focus his eyes. “Wh-what?” he gets out, voice shaking, throat thick. Cold terror drools down his sweaty neck like the breath of a hungry monster. He’s a little kid again, swept up in the mayhem of a crowded mall. Where’s his mom; where’s his mom?

“Your mom’s in my house.” The voice is deep and slow, the hand flexing against his shirt. Fingers splayed. Heavy rings.

“…E-Eddie?” Steve’s vision swims, going yellow and purple then tunneling down to black, deep water filling his ears. Nothing makes any sense. “Munson, what—?”

“Your mom’s in my house,” he repeats like a mantra. Like a lighthouse in the fog, voice rumbling and sure. “She’s safe. She’s fine. You’re hyperventilating; take a breath.”

His breath is still catching quick and high in his throat, little puffs of cold mist. Can you drown in cold air? Can it condense inside your chest?

Eddie grips his shoulder, snaps his fingers in Steve’s face. “Hey. Hey, Steve? Come on, man, look at me. Steve. Look at me.”

Steve meets his gaze like the tide drawn to the moon.

“Deep breath,” he demonstrates, sucking air through an invisible straw, letting his chest and belly swell. Steve copies him until his vision starts to clear, until his heartbeat starts to calm. "That's it," Eddie tells him. "Good. Yeah, there we go."

Some hysterical part in the back of his brain wants to laugh. To start and never stop, just laugh and laugh and laugh until his fucking head explodes.

When he can breathe again, he pants weakly, “What is going on?”

Eddie guides him to a picnic table on the outskirts of the crowd, and they perch on top of it with their feet planted on the bench. The air feels calmer here.

Steve takes another breath.

Eddie points to the single-wide right next to Steve’s. “The wagon’s for your neighbor,” he grimaces in sympathy, one eye squinting shut as he cocks his head at Steve. “Ernie. You know him?”

“Mm.” Ernie Gerwitz. Late 60s, a widower with liver spots and arthritis in both hands. Bad heart, worse drinking habit. Fucking hates Steve’s mom because she backed over his begonias. “Not well.”

They didn’t interact much beyond an occasional neighborly nod, although Steve did once earn the guy’s good graces by yelling at Misty while shooing her off with a rake. (‘Little bitch left me a whole damn weasel last year,’ he’d grumbled as he stooped to pick up the newspaper. ‘Can't shoot her, though, 'cause she scares away the possums.’) And now…

Steve can’t make out much from here, just the shape of a four-man stretcher being carried out the door, strobe light streaks in his vision as the EMTs load up the van.

“Is he…” Steve gulps, clasping his hands between his knees. He doesn’t want to ask this question. The words taste moldy in his mouth. “Is he dead?”

Eddie’s hand shakes a little when he drags it down his cheek. His answer comes on a wobbly sigh, an almost melodic quality to the tension in his voice. “No-o idea, man. Your, uh, your mom, ya know, she— She found him. In, um. In the yard." "Jesus." "Said he was just, like... lying there. In the grass.” Eddie stares off into the distance like he’s seeing it right now; makes a wet clucking sound as his bottom lip quivers. “Thinks it was, a- a heart thing, or something? Shit, I don’t know. She was pretty freaked out when she knocked on my door.”

Steve can't picture it. He hasn’t seen her express a single true emotion since July.

A hesitant hitch of breath, and Eddie chews on his next words, tapping a hand against his thigh. “She’s, uh... she’s… calmer now. Or. At least-”

Steve rolls his eyes, knows exactly where this is going. Eddie tries again: “I mean, she seemed like-”

“Like a fucking zombie?” Steve supplies.

“Yeah,” Eddie huffs, a nervous laugh of relief. You said it, man, not me. There’s something serious in his gaze, something curious and searching.

Something almost kind. Steve shrinks away from it like a vampire in the sun. Go on, he wants to say, ask about the fucking pills. Wants to goad him into a fight, some mean, sharp thing inside him itching to see someone else bleed.

Steve bites his tongue until he tastes metallic tang. Copper covering mildew; fresh bloom coating decay. He swallows hard, lets them both slide down his throat — blood and ghosts, life and death. The River Styx must taste like pennies.

The siren starts again, and Eddie groans and hangs his head. “Christ," he murmurs to the dirt, “Wayne’s gonna be so bummed.”

They both watch in silence as the ambulance goes by.

—

part 10

okay same deal tagging whoever commented yesterday (if your settings will let me) you’re all delightful tysm 😘 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @thefreakandthehair @slutforcoffein @manda-panda-monium @munsonfamilybandalso @aliea82 @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @lololol-1234 @hotluncheddie @pennyplainknits @disrespectedgoatman @carolinachickadee @insideiscold @acedorerryn @anne-bennett-cosplayer @violetsteve my actual wife blessings upon your house @lighthousebeams @steves-strapcollection @sirsnacksalot @stevesbipanic @slowandsteddie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @so-get-this-sammy @annabanannabeth @runninriot @cuips-not-cute @a-little-unsteddie @envyadams-vs-me @ppunkpuppyy if i forgot anyone i’m sorry i am very sleep deprived

[sp0o0kylights]

There were a lot of things Mike hated in life.

The demogorgon, and how it had essentially destroyed his life.

 Brenner, and the madhouse laboratory El had survived. 

How each and every one of his friends now did something weird--were weird, because flashing lights or fireworks or some stupid tune a toy horse played dragged up memories that made their eyes flat and faces hollow. 

Most of all though, Mike hated how much they relied on Steve.

There was no reason he should be the person to call when it started pouring and no one wanted to bike home from AV. 

Steve wasn’t Nancy, or Jonathan, or a parent--he wasn’t even dating anyone related to any of the Party anymore so what excuse did he have to keep hanging around? 

(Even if Jonathan was always working, and Nancy was always busy with some club or homework, and everyone’s parents all seemed to be in a race of who could get back to normal the fastest…) 

They should at least try to get a hold of other people, instead of constantly going to Steve first.

“Why?” Dusitn had scoffed at him the last time this had happened, feeding quarters into a phone and staring at Mike like he was the one being unreasonable. “I’m not gonna waste money just to hear your sister tell us no again when we all know Steve will do it.” 

Which was perhaps the most infuriating part of it all.

That Steve would do it. 

Show up and help them, even if he bitched the whole time. 

Hell, Steve Harrington knew more about Mike’s life offhand than Nancy did, and that made him want to punch a wall more days than it didn’t. Why the hell was Steve so involved? 

It was stupid. 

Weird, even! They weren’t friends, (even if Dustin and Max and El of all people said the opposite) he wasn’t being paid to babysit, (Mike had double checked; going round to ask Ma Henderson and Mrs. Sinclair, only to get an earful of how wonderful Steve was from both.) he had no reason to hang around! 

It didn’t make sense that Steve could be harassed into picking them up from school. 

Would take them to get ice cream, or hand over extra quarters for the arcade. He even gave out advice like some kind of--brother that Mike had never wanted. 

Above all?

Mike hated that when he needed someone, the number he punched in on automatic was Steve’s.

“I need you to come get me.” He said into the receiver, mad at himself and the world, but mostly mad that beyond the normal amount of squawking Steve did, he shut up and came. 

Drove up in his rich boy car, stepping out and herding Mike into it like the rain hadn’t already seeped into his bones. 

“You wanna tell me why you snuck into a bar two towns over?” Steve asked, long after Mike had slung himself into the passenger seat, arms crossed defensively over his chest.

“No.” 

One of Steve’s hands went right to his hair, running through it before adjusting the mess he’d just made. 

It was a nervous habit, and Mike hated that he knew that too. 

“Okay, well.” Steve’s hand fell back to the steering wheel, clenching tight around it. “Next time you want to do something dumb could you at least come talk to me about it beforehand?”

“What the hell would that do?” Mike bitched, staring firmly out of the window. 

“Not waste my gas for starters.” Steve bitched right back. “But I dunno man, we could have taken some bats and gone and wailed on cars in the junkyard and talked or some shit, not--whatever this all was.”

‘This all’ was accompanied by a wave of his hand, indicating not just the bar Mike had been standing in front of, but his general sopping wet state. 

“You’d actually go to the junkyard with me?” Mike challenged, doubtful. 

Steve made a face. “Did you lose your hearing in there? I just said--.” 

“Why?” Mike interrupted. “Why the fuck would you come out with me?”

Matching his entire aggressive tone, Steve said; “Because it’s better than trying to sneak into the one local gay bar when you’re barely fourteen, Michael.” 

And that? 

Steve being oddly aware of shit he really shouldn’t have?

Mike hated that too. 

“You knew what the bar was?” He asked, his voice coming out much smaller than he intended. 

“Everyone knows what that bar is, except it’s more of a biker bar than a gay bar.” Steve shot back--which did actually explain about ten different questions Mike had about the place. “Also, language you little shit.” 

Under his breath, Steve continued in a muttered; “I swear I’m going to start carrying around soap.”

“You cuss more than we do.” Mike responded, and if his own voice was a little strangled as he fought back the sudden swell of tears, then that was between him and God. 

He was not crying in front of Steve Harrington, he outright refused. 

“The point I’m making is that there are way better bars to sneak into. That one’s not nearly as welcoming as people make it out to be, probably because they’re sick of all the rumors.” 

Steve seemed to realize what he was implying because he quickly added; “Not that you should be sneaking into any bars at all!” 

“You’re not my mom.” Mike’s voice turned wet as he lost his battle with his throat, voice cracking as he failed to choke the tears back.  

“No shit Wheeler.”  Steve said, and at least he was good enough not to call attention to Mike’s crying. 

If he had, Mike was pretty sure he’d just up and die of embarrassment, right there. 

“I don’t get why you care.” He muttered, angrily swiping at his eyes. 

“I didn’t keep you alive this long just so you could die of something stupid.” Steve countered easily.

Which was kinda fair, if you thought about it.

Mike very much did not want to think about it. 

Any of it.

Ever. 

“Are you gonna tell my parents?” He asked after a painfully long moment. 

Long enough that Steve had begun fiddling with the radio, trying to find a station as they drove back that wasn’t wailing country or gospel music. 

“I’m not a narc, so no.”  

“Not about the bar.”  

Now Steve just looked confused. 

Probably because he was, because he was without a doubt the stupidest almost adult Mike knew. 

(Not that he could say that out loud--last time he had, Max had made one of her pissy faces and then El got mad because Max was, which led to a break up, which led to Mike having to beg his way back into his girlfriend’s good graces while explaining that he hadn’t meant it like that.

“How did you mean it then?” Max demanded, and Mike wasn’t sure how he managed to dodge that entire conversation but he had, on grounds that untangling his own emotions regarding stupid Steve made him want to pull his hair out and scream.) 

“What about then?” 

 “You know. Don’t make me say it.” Mike absolutely didn’t plead, even if it did sort of, kind of, sound like pleading. 

Steve flicked his eyes away from the road to give one long, weird look at Mike. The same one he gave Dustin when he went off on a rant about Cerebro or Lucas when he started discussing the stats of different D&D weapons. 

Unlike those times, Steve’s face cleared. 

“Oh.” He said, blinking, and Mike could practically see the light bulb flash above his head.

Then; 

“Nah.” 

Mike waited.

And waited.

And kept waiting as Steve went back to searching through radio channels, as if that was the end of the conversation.

It couldn't be the end of this conversation.

Not when this was the part that was eating Mike alive.

He didn’t know if this was Steve repressing it on purpose or if this was what he had to look forward to for the rest of his life if he kept trying to figure his own head out, but either way, he knew he had a choice to make. 

To let the unspoken part of today die quietly. Go unsaid, and remain unsaid, for all eternity--or he could let it out. 

Shove the “gay” part of “gay bar” in Steve’s stupid, jock face. 

Make him acknowledge it, even if it got Mike kicked out of the car, and who cared if it did? 

Steve wasn’t the person who should have picked him up anyway. 

The anger climbed higher and higher in his chest, tears and rage combining until Mike spat it all out, furious. 

“You’re not going to ask if I’m gay?”  

Steve didn’t turn to face him, but Mike saw his eyebrow cocking anyway, given how he was currently glaring a hole in the side of the older teen’s head. 

“Do you want me to?” 

“No.” Mike bit out automatically. “Yes. I don’t know!” 

Steve’s hand found its way back into his hair. 

“Okay then.” Steve paused, clearly fishing for something to say. 

Gleefully, Mike watched him struggle. 

“Do you like guys?” He managed finally, looking like he was navigating a minefield more than just talking.

“I don’t know.” Mike stressed, sinking lower in his seat. “Why do you think I was at the bar? I was trying to figure it out!” 

“Honestly I assumed this was some sort of stupid dare--but!” Steve held up a finger, before Mike could interrupt, “But let’s--shit, hold on, I had a speech for this but I kinda wasn’t expecting to use it this soon. Um.”

“You have a speech for me being gay?”

“Not for you.” Steve rolled his eyes. “For--in general! It was an in general, just in case speech!” 

He rounded on Mike, for longer than the younger was comfortable with given Steve took his eyes off the road to do it. “Okay--you can like boobies, you can like, uh--not boobies, and that’s fine! It’s all totally fine!” 

“You are not making it sound like it’s fine.” Mike said, feeling like he’d been taken out by hearing Steve say the word “boobies.” 

Gross, gross, gross. 

“Well it is.” Steve said, in a tone that felt like he was two seconds from adding in a smarmy ‘so there!’ at the end. 

“But I’m dating El.” Mike whined, which really, was both the heart of the matter and the eye of the storm that had been growing in his head for months now. “I can’t be gay if I like her.” 

“Don’t you guys break up and get together like four times a week?”

“No, that's Max and Lucas, El and I are stable.” Mike scoffed. “Or we--we were stable.” 

Before he started to have thoughts about people that weren't his girlfriend. 

Or women.

“Stable for being in middle school, sure.” Steve snorted. “You don’t just have to like one or the other you know. You can like dudes and chicks at the same time.”

Which Mike did not know, on account of being fourteen. 

He did his absolute damndest not to show that realization, instead adding that to the list of reasons why he hated Steve Harrington too.

Steve shouldn't be the one teaching him about who you could like!

“The point is that who you end up loving isn’t a problem.” Steve finally looked back to the road. “Other people might be an issue, and those people we can punch in the face so long as the cops aren’t looking, which isn’t part of the speech so let’s not tell people I said that part, but whatever you do choose, there’s nothing wrong with you.” 

Steve’s voice went firm, as he apparently recalled his speech or something close enough to it because his next words sounded a little rehearsed. “You have people who are here for you, no matter what. Okay?” 

Oh God, Mike was crying again. 

He wanted to punch Steve in his stupid face.

Wanted to hold onto the fury he'd built inside himself. Thrash around, throw himself out of the car, get away from the emotions that felt too big for his chest to contain. 

Instead he felt it all break on Steve's acceptance. On word's he didn't know he needed to hear until they'd been spoken, and sniffed out a quiet; “Okay.” 

Steve of course had to take it too far by reaching over and patting his knee, which they both regretted judging by how quickly Steve took his hand back and the face Mike made at his hand--but it…

It was appreciated, even amongst all Mike's rage.

Steve was appreciated. 

Not that Mike would ever, on pain of death, tell him that. 

Neither said a word for a while, Steve finally landing on a radio that was playing some Top 40 hit, Tears for Fears singing about ruling the world while Mike found himself trying to rebuild his own once again, tired of it having shattered so many times over. 

At least he finally felt better, even if he refused to admit Steve was the reason for it. 

He wasn’t quite done though.

 There was a piece Steve had skipped over, that Mike felt was critically important, if only because it was partly the reason he was having thoughts about being gay in the first place. 

He had to know if Steve saw it too. 

That it wasn’t just him and his stupid head, making up things that weren’t there. 

“Hey Steve?” 

“Yeah?”

“Who was the speech for?” 

Steve sighed. 

“Rule one of the whole queer thing Wheeler, you don’t out other people.” 

Like there were written rules or something.

(Maybe there were, it wasn't like Mike knew.)

“Was it Will?” Mike asked, and pretended like he didn’t desperately want the answer to be yes. 

 Steve didn’t say a thing, but the fact he nearly took the car off the road was a pretty solid answer in itself. 

“We’re not playing guessing games about other people’s sexualites!” He yelped, hands gripping the steering wheel as Mike felt a wave of relief crash through him. 

Will was--maybe, possibly, also--queer too. 

Which didn’t make this any better but it--wasn’t the not preferred outcome, either. 

(It wasn’t just Mike struggling alone, trying to figure out if his best friend wanted to be more than that, if El was breaking up with him and more and more because she wanted to be less than a girlfriend, if things were changing and he would have no one--) 

“I’m not out here picking Will up from a gay bar dipshit, I’m picking you up, and this is your reminder that next time, you should just come talk to me!” Steve ranted. 

Mike snorted.

He absolutely hated Steve Harrington, but--

“Fine.” He said, talking so low he could barely be heard. “I will.”

--maybe Mike did have someone in his corner after all. 

Even if it was just Steve. 

xXx

Bonus: 

“Between you and me, that kid is gayer than a two dollar bill.” 

“Wow Robin,” Steve teased, “Isn’t that like, a slur or whatever?” 

He snickered when she rolled her eyes and threw a roll of stickers his way. 

“I’m just saying. Did you see the way he was looking at you when you were showing off your stupid biceps?” Robin said, nudging her shoulder into Steve’s. “Will’s gonna have a rude awakening later if he hasn’t already.” 

Steve nudged her back, but kept his gaze on the Party as they trooped their way from Family Video to the arcade next door, the realization that they now had connections for free rentals making them downright gleeful. 

Will was the last one in, and Steve watched him hurry so as to not be left behind. 

He didn’t like to worry about the dipshits, but Robin was just putting voice to a thought Steve knew he wasn’t the first person to have.

And if he noticed it, then it didn't exactly bode well as being kept a secret. 

“Should we like…talk to him about that?” He asked after a long moment, turning to face Robin.

“Us?” She pointed at herself, before turning her finger on Steve. “Why us?” 

“Well you’re into girls.” He gave her a pointed look, glad that the store was empty of everyone but them so he could actually voice all this. “And I’m fine with it.”

“Yeah I’m sure he wants to know you’re fine with it.” Robin taunted, but she had her thinking face on, eyes out to the middle distance. “I barely know him. You barely know him--he’s the quietest out of all your kids.”

“They’re not my kids.” Steve argued automatically. “They're like a weird cross between shitty siblings and that kid in your class who never leaves you alone.” 

A fact Steve no longer took for granted, even if he made it sound like the worst thing ever.

“I just think it’d be nice if he knew that he had people in his corner, you know? Who supported him and shit.” 

“Steve, you compared my crush to a muppet, that wasn’t supportive.” Robin countered, but it too was on automatic. 

Softer she admitted; “You’re right though. If I had known other queer people, if I had known people would accept me...it would have made things a lot easier.”

A very long pause, in which both of them stewed for a moment, before Robin abruptly slapped her hand down on the table.

“Okay, you got me. We're doing it, and I'm making us a speech.”

“A speech?” 

“Yes dingus, a speech. I know you, you’re terrible when you’re put on the spot with this kinda thing, and trust me with things like this the moment will be spontaneous.”

“It’s Will, how spontaneous can it be?” Steve challenged back. “Getting a dinner order out of him is a chore.” 

“Stop whining and hand me that notepad. Im telling you its gonna happen when you least expect it and then you're gonna thank me later.”

“It better not happen without you.”  Steve sighed, but passed the notepad over.

God the things he did for those stupid kids. 

Bonus x2

Steve would later go on to use the speech on himself, in a gas station bathroom mirror, eyes wide and freaked out after Eddie Munson called him Big Boy in a van they stole, while Robin snickered behind him. 

He would turn on her, snapping that she; “Help me with this dammit!” 

In return she’d remind him that Tammy might sing like a muppet but Eddie  was the guy who stepped on lunches while giving speeches at lunch and sticking his tongue out, and “Really Steve, I think I won best gay awakening, here.” 

Which would promptly start an argument regarding how it wasn’t a competition, which would continue for another fifteen or so odd years before finding its way as a reference into both of their speeches as each other’s best man. 

Nancy and Eddie wouldn’t get it at either wedding, but Mike would.

[stevenose]

Obsessed with the thought of Steve torturing your hyper sensitive nipples after overstimulating your clit just to hear you beg for his cock

reader with a vagina, no gendered terms for reader

this is soooo shy!reader from the car blurb series i’m doin … steves gonna play with you. needs to hear that sweet lil voice whimpering and moaning just for him. and you’re trying so hard not to let him hear you. he’d be annoyed if you weren’t so cute. he has his thumb pressed nice and tight against your clit, rubbing slow, small circles into it while his mouth sucks bruises into your neck. as if he’s trying to pull your moans out from you.

you’re writhing below him. hands clenched tight around his biceps, half pushing him away - the attention is overwhelming - and half keeping him in place. steve coos at you, smiling sweet. he licks a fat stripe up your neck and rests his lips on the shell of your ear.

“does it feel good?”

you nod, eyes tightly shut.

“let me hear you,” he presses, his thumb applying a bit more pressure, moving a little faster.

“steve,” you whimper, embarrassed.

he’d like to quip at you, but your tits distract him (when don’t they?). your nipples look delicious, perked upwards, calling for his mouth. experimentally, he blows on them, watching in awe as your back arches them up towards him.

“jesus,” he groans. “you’re so fucking pretty. y’know that?”

you don’t answer, but it’s okay. he just has to get you worked up enough and then you’ll do whatever he asks. he slides his thumb up and down your folds, ruining any chance of orgasm you had, leaving you with the ache. you’re dripping onto his sheets and he’ll probably shove his face into it later while jerking himself off.

“what am i doin’ to you, baby?” he asks, like he’s sympathetic. “makin’ this pretty pussy cry?”

you nod, reaching up to cover your face.

“hey,” he calls softly, rubbing his nose against your hands. “it’s okay, think it’s so hot.”

you whimper again, thighs attempting to shut around his hand. he giggles, lets you do whatever you need to, and leans down to kiss down the swell of your breast to your perked bud.

“ah!”

steve’s gonna cum in his pants if you keep being vocal like that. he’s too excited, keeps trying to go slow, flicks your nipple with his tongue before closing his mouth around it. lets his teeth nip you just a bit, enough to make you -

“oh my god,” you moan, so whorish, so unlike you.

“there we go,” he moans back, mouth still full of you. he sucks your nipple gently and bites one more time before pulling away, pupils wide, drinking you in. “such pretty sounds, lemme hear some more -“

and you wail again when he gets back to it. your thighs squeeze harshly against his hand, threatening to make it go numb. you need him so bad, and he needs you even more. he licks a broad stripe up your tit before kissing over to the other one, giving it the same treatment, leaving hickeys on the swell of your breast.

“steve,” you gasp, hips bucking, thighs clenching. “oh, fuck, please?”

“what do you want?”

“god - what - whatever you’ll give me,” you pant, beads of sweat glistening at your hairline.

steve opens his mouth with a retort - this is what i’m giving you - but you steal his breath away when you moan, “i want your cock.”

“my cock?” he repeats, awestruck. about to fucking cum. there’s a lil string of saliva connecting you. “honey, i thought we didn’t do that.”

because, yeah, you’ve only ever just played with each other. his cock and your cunt have not yet met. but you want it more than anything now, so much that it feels like you’ll die if you don’t have it.

“please,” you beg, eyes wide, chest heaving. “i don’t care, i want it now, please, steve.”

a big hand parts your thighs again, letting him sink a finger inside of you. watching with frenzied hazel eyes at your reaction to the stretch, to the relief. how you sink down into his covers and sigh, shakily parting your legs for him to bully his way between them.

“say it again,” he begs, voice cracking.

there’s no hesitation. “i need your cock, steve.”

his finger curls up, making you cry as he finds your sweet spot. “uh-huh, angel, and you’re gonna fuckin’ get it.”