#Beyond the Mirror Sky
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Sky
Game(s): Skyward Sword
He/him pronouns
22 years old
Skyloftian
The very first incarnation of the hero's spirit, Sky fought the dark god Demise and won. But not without a price, being cursed to reincarnate to fight the spirit of Demise's hatred until the end of time itself. Called upon for a new quest against a new foe, Sky seeks to fix his mistakes and protect his successors from any further harm.
#beyond the mirror#BMT Sky#link#legend of zelda#art#digital art#Beyond the Mirror Sky#beyond the mirror characters
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𝔯𝔲𝔫, 𝔯𝔞𝔟𝔟𝔦𝔱, 𝔯𝔲𝔫
“What do I win?” His voice was just barely above a whisper. “What will you give me, bunny?”
pairing: wolf hybrid! san x bunny hybrid! fem reader
genre: hybrid/omegaverse, smut
summary: your boyfriend’s rut has (un)fortunate timing.
w.c: 3.7k
“All of me, silly boy. Everything.”
warnings: hard dom! san (wolf sannie is so mean ><), sub! reader, possessiveness, pet names (sweetheart, bun, bunny, baby, etc), name calling, daddy kink, san has a massive cock btw, degradation/praise, filthy dialogue (i went wilddd), cnc, primal play (ofc), subspace, face-fucking, brief breath play, manhandling, brief blood drinking, biting/marking, face/pussy slapping, size kink, bulge kink, impreg kink, breeding kink, knotting, multiple positions, creampies, cockwarming, dumbification
a/n: this is a major brain rot moment bc goddamn i just wanna be a little bunny that gets eaten up by big bad wolf sannie yk? ughh esp considering san went full alpha wolf mode in that warriors dance performance vid ksksjd. anywayy thank you to “here me out” anon for sending me that primal play ask — i’m sorry it took me ages to post but this is for you bb <3 okay lovelies: put on some mood music, get all comfy in your beds, and enjoy the ride 🖤
song recs: predator by anomy5 (ty haruuu @stardragongalaxy <3), destroy me by mr. kitty, mascara by deftones
Masterlist
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You climbed out of the passengerside of your boyfriend’s truck, taking a deep inhale of the fresh air around you, studying your serene surroundings. There were countless pine trees beyond the clearing you were standing in, going on for miles and miles, swallowing up the land around you. It was the perfect place to have a nice, quiet picnic with the love of your life.
“Oh, bunny,” San called out in a sing-song tone, only the tips of his fluffy black ears sticking up past the top of his truck before he walked around the back and over to you, holding a thick pleated blanket and a picnic basket in his arms. He tilted his head, one of his ears rotating slightly in response to a flock of birds that flew past the red-orange sky above the both of you. “Are you ready?”
“Of course I am, pretty boy,” you returned, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to his lips, only for San to let out a small, though obvious growling sound, nipping at your bottom lip, his ears twitching slightly. Holding back a moan, you opened your surprised eyes, your own ears instinctively standing on high alert. “San?”
Your boyfriend’s once furrowed brows relaxed, along with his features, making sure to give you a soft, dimpled smile. His body was beginning to overheat dangerously fast, but he didn’t know if he should inform you yet. He didn’t want to ruin such a nice picnic date. “Yes, baby?”
You blinked your big doe eyes at him. “Are you okay?”
San’s eyes glazed over for a split second, a prick of uneasiness shooting through your body at the sight of it. It was instinctual fear, reminding you of the way things would be if you weren’t civilized hybrids — though, it sent something else through you that you weren’t particularly familiar with.
“I’m just peachy, baby,” San reassured, running a hand through his dark locks, giving you a toothy smile. “Now, let’s have our little picnic.” His smile grew wider, pointed shiny fangs glinting in the warm evening light. “I’m starving.”
You couldn’t quite pinpoint what you were feeling, but did you really need to? Not when slick was already leaking out of your cunt and along your inner thighs. Instead of confronting the bubbling situation, you mirrored his smile, showing off your smaller, more rounded set of teeth. “Me too!”
You had shared some fizzy drinks and a small spread of food on your picnic blanket with San, idly chatting about whatever was on your mind, occasionally going into bouts of comfortable silence, your minds unable to stop focusing on the presence of something that couldn’t be ignored. The scent that was radiating off of San was unlike anything you had encountered previously. It was so stifling, so hot, like fire and ember, burning the tip of your tongue and lighting the wick inside your core. Though you hadn’t spoken about it, you were very certain your boyfriend was in–
“Bunny…” he mumbled underneath his breath, his head angled at the ground so that you couldn’t see how flushed his angular cheeks had become, how his eyes were hooded and unfocused, and the drool that was leaving his lips. “Daddy’s not feeling like himself right now.”
Biting your lip, you tilted your head, grabbing onto one of your elongated rabbit ears and stroking it out of habit. “Are…you in a rut, Daddy?” The low growling that San emitted through his clenched teeth gave you all the confirmation you needed. “I don’t mind, you know.”
“Huh..?” San sat up a bit from his hunched position, tilting his head to the side. “You mean that, bun?”
You nodded your head enthusiastically, your ears flopping a bit from your quick movements. Your eager expression softened significantly, looking at San past your long wispy eyelashes, swiping at your lip and making it glisten with your saliva. “Should we play hide and seek, Sannie? Or how about tag? You win if you catch me.” San was leaning in closer to you, just as you followed his lead, your bodies drawn to one another like magnets.
“What do I win?” His voice was just barely above a whisper. “What will you give me, bunny?” His lips were just barely brushing over yours, your combined breaths leaving you a bit dizzy.
You giggled softly, reaching up to caress his cheek. “All of me, silly boy.” Your fingers drifted along his sharp jaw and into his hair, your gaze lowering to his lips. “My body.” You left a small kiss on his cheek. “My heart.” You held his heated face as your pressed your lips onto his. “Everything.”
Something snapped within San in that moment. He immediately stood up, his chest rising and falling at a rapid pace, like he would run out of air at any second. You knew your time with your gentle, loving Sannie was long gone for the time being, and you couldn’t have been happier.
“I’ll give you on the count of three to run, baby.” San lowered his chin and looked down at you past his black bangs, a distant look in his glazed over eyes. They were bright red and glowing, his pupils forming into small slits. “Three…” he began gruffly, one side of his upper lip twitching up slightly to reveal a pointy, white canine.
“Sannie…” you murmured to yourself, standing up from the picnic blanket and taking a few steps back, leaves and sticks crunching underneath your feet.
“Two…” he continued in an eerily soft tone, pulling at the neckline of his t-shirt, sweat starting to become visible on his smooth tan skin. San slowly started to hunch over, his heavy, uneven breaths causing a vaporous fog to form in the air near his drooling mouth.
Knowing how incredibly fast and agile San was, especially when he was in such an animalistic headspace, you found yourself turning around and taking off into the forest in an instant, your heartbeat already beginning to thump inside your ears from how fast you were running.
“One…” San exhaled to himself, reaching up over his head and pulling his shirt off, ripping through it with his sudden influx of strength. He leaned back and stretched, taking in a deep inhale, able to smell the scent of your arousal from where he was standing, despite you already putting a fair amount of distance between the two of you. It brought a delighted smile to his flushed face, his eyes forming crescent moons. “You better run as fast as you can, little rabbit, before the big, bad wolf comes and finds you.”
You didn’t know if it was your instinctual fear as prey kicking in that made you take off running first, or the sweet anticipation of getting taken down by your ravenous boyfriend and truly being put in your place. It didn’t matter, anyhow. You knew that once he got his hands on you, there was no going back.
Rough pieces of wood and pebbles temporarily embedded themselves in the soft soles of your bare feet as you quickly scampered through the dark woods ahead of you, too busy weaving through nearby pine trees to realize you had lost your shoes somewhere along the way.
You didn’t stop until you found a particular large tree, one that was far older than the rest, covered in moss and layers of aged bark, the roots coming out like tendrils and burying themselves underneath the foliage and dirt. Pressing your back against it and making yourself as small as possible, you pressed your hand over your lace-covered chest, feeling your heart pound against the palm of your hand, not very concerned with the state of your somewhat disheveled dress. Not so distant sounds of howling drifted through the chilly night air and into your soft, slightly tufted ears. They twitched slightly, the heat that was pooling in your core multiplying at the thought of what was to come.
San’s past warnings swept through your spinning mind. “Bunny, I’m not in my right mind during that time period,” he said with a concerned, though undoubtedly hungry look in his eyes, “I…end up wanting you so bad that I probably wouldn’t hesitate to take you in any and every way I want as long as I have you to myself…”
Yet, San was usually so gentle with you, so soft when he made love to you, lightly brushing his calloused hands along your body like you were made of glass, his brown eyes brimming with tears, using his lips to imprint echoes of love into your skin.
More wetness leaked out of you as if on command, the pheromones radiating off of San’s overheated body even from a distance sending your brain straight into breeding mode, reminding you that your gentle Sannie was no longer there. Despite this, you found yourself wanting him. You needed him inside you. Needed him to pump his cum into your womb and make you his over and over again. It would be just like the story books. He’d swallow you up and and leave you knocking at heaven’s door — and you knew one thing for certain. He was going to tear you apart. Your lips curled into a small smile just as a raspy, deep voice broke your concentration.
“Caught you, little bunny,” San proclaimed in an eerily calm manner, his words interrupted by his drawn-out, heavy breaths, his bare chest rising and falling at a much slower, more deliberate pace than before.
“Wh-what? How?” you replied instinctively, digging your fingers into the tree, breaking off bits of bark underneath your tight grasp.
“My silly bunny.” San chuckled, shaking his head, getting closer and closer to you. “I could smell how fucking wet that cunt of yours is from a mile away.” His eyes were focused solely on yours, but it was like he was looking through you, as if he was already inside your mind and body — already marking what was his with his presence alone. “Do you want me to eat you up that badly?”
There were times that San teased you, of course, but was always playful. Innocent, even. This was…something else. He definitely wasn’t playing around this time. You knew for certain. You could see it in his glowing, blood red eyes.
You nodded your head, pressing yourself back into the tree, finding it hard to swallow. You wanted him bad. Needed him.
San took a step towards you, twigs snapping underneath the weight of his heavy feet. “Now, now, sweetheart. You have to use your words for me, okay?” He ran his tongue across his large incisors, titling his head to the side. “You’ll let Daddy have a taste of his cute little bunny, won’t you? Or are you going to make me take what’s mine?”
“Take what’s yours, Daddy, please, until I can’t take it anymore,” you requested, your words and sad, pathetic whining sending San into a deeper, more animalistic headspace, revealing it to you through the quick lunge he made in your direction.
Suddenly, you were forced down onto your knees, San’s large hand pushing your head down until you were eye-level with his crotch. San took your hand and led it below his belt, letting you feel what was trapped inside, his rock-hard cock throbbing against your trembling fingertips. He gave you a small pout, almost making you forget about your position until he spoke. “See what you do to me when you act like a needy fucking slut, little bunny? See how hard you make Daddy?”
“Yeah, I see, Daddy. Your cock’s so hard it probably hurts, huh?” you mused, giggling a bit, your amusement cut short when San took ahold of your floppy bunny ears, gripping them tight enough to make you whimper.
“Y’know, you’re doing a whole lot of talking when you should be choking on my cock instead, bunny,” San informed, popping his belt open and letting his pants pool below his waist, his overtly large length slapping up into his abdomen and leaving a streak of pre-cum across his tan skin. Before you could have a chance to breathe, San jerked your head towards him, sliding his cockhead past your lips and plunging himself down your throat, not taking a second to face-fuck you like the fate of the world depended on it.
Slick, indecent sounds began to erupt from your occupied throat, along with your loud, erratic gagging, as you tried to swallow San’s cock without choking each time he rammed it down your esophagus, your eyes becoming wet with tears.
“Aww, is Daddy’s cock too big for my bunny’s tiny throat? Guess I need to stretch it out,” San sighed, squeezing his fingers around your ears as he fully plunged all ten inches into you, holding you completely still, briefly plugging your nose up with his free hand, just to feel you struggle to breathe, your abundant saliva dripping down his swollen balls. San held you like that until your face grew red, eventually letting go and pulling out all the way to let you take a much-needed breath, just to slap his heavy cock down onto your face, rubbing streaks of his pre-cum into your skin. “Good girl.”
“Thank you, Daddy…” you whispered in a gravely voice, throat wrecked, barely able to see him past your watery eyes, weakly licking up his pre-cum when he rubbed his tip across your lips.
“Open wide.” When you didn’t open your mouth right away, San’s expression darkened, sending a quick, rough smack onto your cheek, growling, “I said, open.” Your lips parted just as a fresh wave of slick dripped down your pussy. With a satisfied grin, San plugged your throat back up, clutching your head on either side, pistoning his hips, quick and rough, reminiscent of a machine going into overdrive. He fucked your face like you were just a hole for him, nothing more, nothing less, and you couldn’t have been more wet. “Ohh, fuck– Oh god, that’s fucking it. Daddy’s gonna knot your slutty throat now, bun. Gonna fill you up with my cum until you drink down every last drop.”
You gurgled on his rapidly moving cock, his knot stretching your throat open until it was there was a visible protrusion in your neck, San’s fingers immediately feeling it up once he locked you in place, his knot bursting, sending ropes of thick, scalding cum down your throat, forcing you to gulp it down until there was no more.
“What a good bunny you are. So obedient when you’re getting used by Daddy like this,” San praised, wiping remnants of spit, tears, and cum from your fucked-out face, giving you a oddly gentle smile, before pushing you to the ground and climbing on top of you.
“Thank you, Daddy,” you murmured, your voice hoarse from taking his cock like you did, so out of it, you didn’t even react when San ripped your thighs open, causing your dress to pool around your waist, your throbbing pussy on display for him.
San began to drool, hyper focused on the sight of your bare cunt glistening with excess slick, a low groan leaving his lips. “What a slutty little bunny you are, not wearing any panties under your cute little dress.” He ran his hand down your abdomen, his nails leaving light red marks on your skin until he got to your center. “You must’ve known Daddy was going into a rut and just saved him some time, didn’t you, my sweet girl?”
“Y-yes, Daddy.” You sniffled, swallowing roughly, still trying to recover from the abuse your throat took.
“Mm, thought so.” Lifting you up by your hips with ease, San forcefully brought your pussy to his face, taking a deep inhale of your arousal, leaving harsh, warm breaths on your clit, making you shudder. “Fuck. It smells like you came already. Is my bunny that much of a cock whore, that she had her eyes rolling back into her skull just from having her face fucked? Hm?”
You gazed up at him from below, gently rubbing your still stinging cheek. “Mmhmm.”
“Good. Get ready to cum again and again for me,” San announced, licking one long stripe up your cunt, from your hole and up past your clit. He swallowed your arousal down, licking at his lips, before lowering your hips down to his level, guiding his cock to your entrance.
Suddenly and without warning, San shoved himself inside you with one powerful thrust, bottoming out in an instant and leaving you with a dizzying feeling, your thighs trembling against his slim waist. “O-oh my god…”
“Don’t worry, you’re gonna be seeing God once I fuck your whore-hole wide open, lovebun,” San cooed into your ear, putting most of his body weight on you so that you were folded in half, giving you no choice but to take his fat cock in your tiny hole, over and over, until you were indeed, seeing God.
-
You couldn’t remember how long you had been there, being forcibly spread open for your ravenous boyfriend, his teeth latched onto your neck and drawing blood, your legs, like jelly, trembling profusely as they were held up by your flopping ears, your cum-filled pussy stretching open to accommodate yet another one of San’s knots, fresh tears running down your flushed face.
“Awww, are you crying, baby?” San asked into your ear, his deep voice dripping with faux pity, licking your blood off of his incisors. “What are you crying about, huh? Is it because Daddy keeps fucking his cum into your tiny bunny cunt or because of his teeth marks in your neck?”
“B-both!” you cried out, dropping your head back into the foliage beneath you and closing your eyes once San was finished pumping his load into you. “Can’t take it anymore…”
“Oh, yes, you can.” San angled his head down, pursing his lips to send a wad of spit down onto your reddened pussy, immediately slamming his hand down onto your swollen clit. “This cunt belongs to me. No one else. That’s why I’m working so hard to fill you up with my pups, silly bunny.” He smacked your cunt again, harder this time, leaving it stinging, speaking through gritted teeth, “So, I can do with it as I goddamn please. You got it?”
Your nods gave him the go ahead to continue, pulling out to switch positions again, moving your limbs and body to his will until you were on your hands and knees for him, your cum-drenched cotton tail twitching as you took him back inside. "After all this, you still have such a tight fucking cunt, god– you gotta relax for me, bunny, you gotta let me in," San groaned out, looking down to witness the way your hole struggled to stretch around his wide cockhead.
San bred you like the bunny you were, fucking you so viciously, so relentlessly, he broke your mind, just like he was about to do to your bruising body, forcing you into a mind-altering state of bliss.
“It’s so good! Fuck, Daddy, nnnngh–it’s so good!” You began to press your hands down onto your lower abdomen just to feel how prominent the bulge of his slick cock was inside your tummy each time it slammed into your cunt, convinced by the lewd squelching sounds you heard that you were going to have his pups sometime soon. “Your cock’s so heavy inside…it’s gonna break me.”
“Oh, sweetheart, if you break, i’ll just put you back together,” he huffed out, quickly wrapping his thick arms around your abdomen to place his hands over yours, pressing down further, his body flush against your smaller one. “And do it all over again.”
“Fuck–yes–” was all you could verbalize after hearing his heavy handed words, staring down at the ground below past your wet lashes.
He suddenly slowed himself down so you could feel every inch of him inside, the muscles in his abs tightening as he used his core to to simultaneously keep himself steady in his bent-over position and your body fitted against him, his cum-covered cock lodged inside your cunt like it’s missing puzzle piece. “Fuck, you’re squeezing me, baby. That sounds good, huh? The thought of me breaking you?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” you chanted, your eyes starting to disappear underneath your heavy eyelids, only them to grow wide as soon as San lifted your body up completely against his, holding you by your neck, drilling his cock into you at a new angle, one that forced to you drop down onto him even heavier due to the basic laws of gravity.
“Good, now take my knot, pretty girl,” San huffed, his fingers slipping into your drooling mouth, holding his other hand securely against your lower abdomen, feeling just how full he had made you with his potent seed, shooting more and more ropes of cum once his knot broke, feeling your arousal leaking down his softening length. “That’s it now, that’s a good bunny…”Your shaking body eventually relaxed against his, melting into him, not able to give anything else.
Sensing this, San pulled out and turned you around to face him, pulling you into his lap and back down onto his cock, not to fuck you again, knowing you would actually fall apart if you did, but just to warm him and keep his seed inside so that you would be nice and full for him in the coming months. “My sweet girl, you did so well for me. So, so well,” he murmured softly, pressing kiss after kiss onto your face and lips, gently massaging your bunny ears. “How do you feel, baby?”
Smiling tiredly and ready for a long nap, you wrapped your arms around his neck, giving him a long kiss back, before resting your head on his sweaty shoulder.
“Full.”
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fitting room.
“Wait – you want to come inside with me?!”
Panic flooded your whole body as you realized that Felix was about to enter the fitting room with you. He smiled at you broadly: “Of course pumpkin! I want to see how you look in those clothes.”
Your boyfriend, whom you started dating a couple of weeks ago, took you out shopping on this warm summer night. You welcomed the idea as you loved spending time with him, but you dreaded the thought of him seeing you change.
“Wait… don’t you want me to come with you?”
His pained expression tore your heart apart. Of course, you wanted to be with him. If it was up to you, you would spend every minute of your day with him. This dark-haired personification of sunshine stole your heart the minute he smiled at you.
But you were hesitant at the idea of him coming with you into the monstrous invention that were fitting rooms. Those small spaces always made you feel insecure and ugly. The bright lightning highlighted all the parts of your body that you wanted to hide so badly. You had no intention of taking him with you in there.
Felix noticed the war you fought internally, so he grabbed your hands and squeezed them, hoping to distract your inner monologue. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
His eyes held so much compassion for you, he was dearly worried about your well-being. Realizing how much he cared for you made you beyond happy. You took a deep breath before confessing your insecurities to him. “I don’t want you to see me change…”, you mumbled silently.
Felix frowned as he did not understand your discomfort. “But why? It’s nothing I haven’t already seen, pumpkin.” He smiled again, hoping you would make it make sense to him.
You huffed out in despair: “Lix, those fitting rooms are every woman’s worst nightmare. They are super narrow so of course you naturally feel like a fat giant. And that hospital lightning – I mean you will see every lump, every dimple and all of my stretch marks. I don’t want you to see my flaws.”
Felix had wondered why you would always turn off the lights when you got intimate with him, but he never dared to ask. He fought his own self love battles a long time ago, but the memory of the shame that came with it was still fresh in his mind.
He never wanted to rush you, but he just did. Guilt was flooding his body as he saw what his careless remarks did to you. Felix squeezed your delicate hands again and apologized.
“Pumpkin, I am sorry. I had no idea you felt that way about your body. Just so you know I don’t agree with you, but I don’t want to pressure you into anything you don’t want. Go ahead and change, I’ll wait over there with the other boyfriends.”
He was about to turn around when you stopped him. “Lix, wait!” Felix turned around and looked at you guessingly. You had never been with someone like Felix before – someone that understood you and let you breathe. You were used to guys that criticized or ridiculed you for your body, so you never had the courage to open up to them.
But not with Felix – it was as if he grasped your every concern with his whole being. You felt safe with him, so you tried to show him more of your vulnerable side. You grabbed him by his hand and ushered him into the next dressing room.
It was just as you had dreaded – narrow, brightly lit and full of mirrors positioned on every side. You watched yourself mortified before your gaze landed on Felix.
Felix, who was looking at you as if you put the stars in the night sky. Felix, who hugged you from behind and whispered into your ear: “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, pumpkin. Because you’re marvelous.” He placed a sweet kiss on your cheek. His love gave you the courage to undress in front of him.
And now you were standing in this small space, exposed in nothing but your underwear, displaying all of your flaws to your godlike built boyfriend. Your bravery ended at stripping down though; you couldn’t face him right now. You felt Felix’ hands caressing your hips and crossing in front of your stomach as his soft lips found your ear. “Now tell me, baby, where exactly are all those flaws you mentioned?” You felt your cheeks fill with heat as you sensed his hot breath on you. “Well for starters, you’re holding one of my flaws right now.”
This was killing you. Your insecurities were eating you from the inside. You already started imagining the worst he could say. “You’re right, y/n. Your stomach is horrific. Why won’t you lose some weight? It’s not that hard.”, followed by him looking at you disgusted and leaving the fitting room.
Felix’ snort let you come back to reality.
“You think this”, he was applying pressure on your stomach as he was talking, “you think this is a flaw?” You nodded your head in agreement. “Oh pumpkin, you little fool.”
Felix turned you around and got down on his knees. Looking up at you he flashed you a warm smile before pampering your stomach with sweet kisses. His actions made you laugh, so you ushered him to stop. “Lix, what the hell, stop.”, you giggled in front of him. He had a devilish smirk on his lips as he looked up at you again.
“I love your stomach, y/n. I love how it holds all of your organs for you. I love how it lets you eat and digest and breathe in deeply. I love how it looks. I love your little navel. I love to kiss it. I love to lay my head on it. I love feeling it rise with every breath. I really, really love your stomach, pumpkin.”
Tears started to form in the brink of your eyes. No one had ever adored your stomach like that, not even yourself.
“What else?”, he whispered. You took a deep breath before pointing out the stretch marks on your hips. “I hate them.”
Felix’s hands landed on your hips again. He was tracing the outlines of your stretch marks, touching the skin cautiously. “Maybe I shouldn’t call you pumpkin anymore.”
Panic arose in your body once more. You knew it. You were disgusting. Of course, he wouldn’t want to be with someone like you. The tone of his voice getting more playful with every touch: “Maybe I should call you tiger instead. Look at the swings of those lines, they are impeccable!”
You felt like an idiot. Here you were being worshipped by your perfect boyfriend, yet you played out one worst case scenario after the other. You looked down at Felix as you grabbed his dark hair, pulling at it lightly. His eyes sparkled with desire for you, they always did. “Where else, baby?”
With a heavy heart you turned around. You grabbed your ass and squeezed it lightly for him to examine. “Do you see all this cellulite?” Due to the many mirrors in the stall, you were able to see Felix’ expression firsthand. His eyes wide from excitement, his tongue licking his lips and hands ready to grab your ass, as well.
“Babe, all I see is your fantastic bubble butt. Do you really think I care about cellulite?” He squeezed your butt eagerly which caught you by surprise. You squeaked and jumped up, only to land in his arms again. He joined in on your laughter and held you close.
“Y/N, I think you’re beautiful. Like all of you is beautiful. I understand that it’s hard to see your body go through changes as you get older but that’s not a bad thing. Baby, you get to get older, not everyone does.” You shared an intimate look with each other in the mirror in front of you.
„Why don’t you think of age as levels? With each passing year you get up one level in the game of life. And getting dimples or stretch marks means you get to wear a new armor. Isn’t that exciting?”
You loved the way he saw life. You knew that his mindset was built on many hours of struggle and hard work, which made you love him even more. You still looked at him in the mirror, but this time you smiled. A whole genuine smile, one that reached your eyes, as well. Felix smiled back at you before ushering you to move your head. “Gimme a kiss, pumpkin.”
You two kissed, tenderly and sweet, while being embraced in the small confines of the dressing room. “Now, will you put on the clothes we’ve picked out for you? I wanna get out of here and show you how much I adore your body in private.” He smirked one last time before kissing you again.
#skz imagines#skz scenarios#skz smut#stray kids au#stray kids imagines#stray kids x you#skz#skz fluff#skz felix#skz x y/n#skz x you#skz x stay#skz x reader#lee felix#lee felix x reader#lee felix x you#lee felix x y/n#yongbok x reader#yongbok fluff#felix stray kids#stray kids x y/n#stray kids x reader#stray kids hard thoughts#stray kids hard hours#mykoreanlove#kpop smut#creative writing#fanfic#fanfiction#stray kids
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Professor, I didn’t cheat. (PT.2)
Summary: Professor Kennedy takes for you a date after your intimate moment in his office.
Warning: not proofread. smut. oral smut (m receiving) unprotected sex. creampie.
A/N: being an English major is so fun, my only hw is literally just read books and give me opinion on them. and to think I wanted to major in physics 😮
(pt.1) (pt.2)
After that moment you two had in his office, things became different. Stolen glances when you’d walk down the hall, the way he’d stare at you as if you’re the only one in the room. The tension was thick but he knew he shouldn’t indulge into his desires with one of his pupils.
It was ironic because he right now he was making out with you in his office. You sat on his lap as his hands rested on your waist. He gently squeezed the curvature of your waist as you moaned into the kiss. His tongue grazed your bottom lip, asking permission to enter your mouth. He sucked on your bottom lip as your tongue danced around with his.
Both of you broke apart, with his gently pulling you away from his face. The two of you remained panting but didn’t move. His hands rested on your body as he looked at you. He looked at you as if you were the most beautiful woman on the planet.
“Let me take you on a date,” he blurted out as his thumbs caressed your skin. You were shocked and stunned for a few seconds before a smile appeared on your face. You nibbled on your bottom lip as you nodded, feeling like a high school girl all over again.
And so here you were. In front of your mirror wearing an elegant and classy red dress. It reached up to your knees. It wasn’t too flashy but it wasn’t too fancy. It was just right. From the waist up, the corset remained tight and hugged your upper body with grace. The skirt hang loosely around your legs, the satin fabric making gentle contact with your freshly shaven skin.
Leon had made reservations to a fancy restaurant. He wanted the best for you so what better way to express that than by taking you the most beautiful place in town.
Leon was a classic man. He texted you around 7:30 that he’d pick you up by 8PM and bring you back home unscathed. In his eyes, you were a goddess. You were the sun shining down on him, you were the moon illuminating his dark path. Your beauty outshined that of the stars covering the night sky. To him, you were his muse. And he wasn’t afraid to show it.
So when you got out of your apartment and stood in front of Leon, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His jaw went slack as his eyes scanned you up and down, slowly memorizing this image of you. He didn’t want to forget the way his muse looked right now.
“You look…beautiful,” his voice was laced with adoration. He stepped up to you and extended his hand to you. Wanting to walk you to his car because why should you walk alone?
The ride to the restaurant wasn’t awkward. There was a comfortable silence that enveloped the two of you. He had to stop himself from staring too much as he was the one driving and he didn’t want to put you in danger.
The restaurant was beyond beautiful. Its structure was one of ancient Italian architecture.
He opened the door for you and walked behind you as you marveled the inside of the establishment. There were paintings on the roof and the windows were decorated with carved sculptures. The music playing was soft classical- not too loud but not too quiet. It was just right. The entire atmosphere screamed rich and classy. Just like him.
A waiter walked you two to a table right next to a window. He figured you’d like to see the view of the outside and he was right. As you stared out the window, he stared at you. You really captured this man’s heart and he was falling for you more and more.
First dates are awkward but not with him. Leon was a smooth talker, he was natural at this. So when he ordered for the both of you and you tried to protest, he gave you a stern look, “Don’t worry, I got this.” He said in his confident tone. He wanted to take care of you and he’d do it whether you like it or not.
After getting some appetizers, he began to talk to you. He wanted to get to know you. As he took a sip of his champagne, he looked over at you as you sat across from him, “So, tell me. What are you studying that requires you to take my course?”
“Well…I’m majoring in history,” you replied with a soft smile. Which was then mirrored on Leon’s face, “A history major in our midst. Why history of all things?”
“I just really like to learn about the past. Not just about the wars and everything in between. Rather the history of how society came to be. I just think human history is interesting,” You replied shyly.
Leon chuckled and took another sip of his drink before talking, “That’s good. You should study something that you like.”
As the food arrived, you couldn’t help but be fascinated with his life. He’s got a PhD in Philosophy as well as a Masters degree in Sociology with a Minor in Political Science. He’s old but you didn’t think he’d have time to do all of that.
The date was going well. Leon said a couple of jokes and you laughed at them. Your laugh was like music to his ears and he only wanted to hear more. You guys talked about everything. It was as if there really was no boundary between you two. You talked about everything and anything- your hobbies, your likes and dislikes. That one time your professor from another class caught you hiding behind a student so you wouldn’t have to participate.
“No, it was so embarrassing!” You said as you covered your face with your hands, resulting in Leon cackling.
“I don’t even think that’s ever happened to me with my students, you really do have unique experiences,” he teased as he sipped his champagne.
“To this day, I still get major embarrassment,” you fanned your face as you felt it grow hot from embarrassment to which he only laughed again.
He had a great time and so did you. So when the time marked 11PM, he felt a small twinge of sadness. He didn’t want the date to be over, he wanted to keep talking to you. That was until he felt your heel ride up along his leg.
He raised his brow and looked at you, “What are you doing?” He asked with a small smirk. He knew exactly what you were doing.
“Nothing…” You replied as you gave him your most innocent smile. He chuckled and leaned closer to the table to take your hand. His thumb caressing on your skin, drawing small circles.
“It’s getting late, I should take you home,” he spoke softly.
“Oh yeah, it’s getting late,” you let out a small sigh as the two of you got up from your table. Leon paid, of course, and walked out of the restaurant with his hand on your lower back. His touch was firm but soft.
As he led you to his car, he let you borrow his suit jacket so you wouldn’t be cold. Man, this guy was raising the standard. Once inside the car, he started the engine and began to drive to your apartment.
He brought his hand over to your thigh and gently squeezed. It was supposed to be something between the lines of “thank you for coming on a date with me” and “just you wait until we get back to your place.” The thrill was so enticing, it only made your panties grow a small wet spot from how turned on you were from his touch.
He parked right in front of your apartment and walked you to the front door. As you took out your keys and tried to find the one that opened the door, he couldn’t help but let his eyes wonder to your ass. God that dress did you justice. He wanted to touch it and grip that ass so hard until you rubbed against his hard erection with dirty noises spilling out of your mouth and-
“Want to come inside?” His thoughts were interrupted by your sweet voice. He cleared his throat and looked you in the eyes as he nodded, “Sure, yeah.”
Once he stepped inside and you closed the door, he pinned you against the wall and started to kiss you. His hands gripped your hips as he pressed his body against yours. You could feel his erection through his pants as he pressed up against you. His lips melting with yours as if they were made for each other. Your lipstick staining his lips a soft red as he pulled back slightly, his lips hovering just above yours. “The things I want to do to you,” he growled as he kissed you passionately again. His left hand gripping your hip as his right hand traveled down to grab your ass, squeezing between his fingers. That only caused him to moan as he felt how much you loved how he groped your body.
You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and brought him closer to deepen the kiss. His tongue meshing with yours as you could taste the champagne off his mouth. He tasted so delicious and you were hungry for him.
He pulled back to catch his breath and you gently took his hands to guide him to your room. This time, you were in charge.
You pushed him down the edge of the bed so he could sit down. You sat on his hips as you began to kiss him again. Your lips trailing from his mouth to his neck. Leaving lipstick prints along his skin.
You slowly got off him and kneeled in between his legs. His breath hitches as he knew what you were about to do. Your hands unbuckled his belt and pulled down on his zipper, bringing forth his large erection. God he looked even better than last time.
Precum had been leaking down the side already. You wrapped your fingers gently along his base as you dropped a small drop of saliva down on his tip and spread it down with your finger. Leon leaned back against the bed as he moaned at your touch. He was loving every second of this and he was loving how much you were in control.
As you took his cock in your mouth, he closed his eyes tightly shut and immediately grabbed the top of your hair, tugging your scalp. You swirled your tongue around his head as you rubbed the remaining part of his base that couldn’t fit in your mouth. Bobbing your head as moans and grunts spilled out of him. He bucked his hips against your face, wanting to fuck your throat deeper. When he felt you gag slightly against his cock, he let out a loud growl and spoke lowly, “Fuck y/n… I’m going to cum.”
You looked up at him through your eyelashes and pulled your mouth away from his cock. He let out a faint gruff as you stopped him from his orgasm. But what he wasn’t ready for was that you had already taken off your wet panties and began to rub his cock with them.
He’s never seen anyone do this to him. To have someone rub their underwear on his cock only turned him on even more. He could feel that wet spot on the middle part of your panties and only made his cock throb even more. He couldn’t believe he was about to cum from just your panties.
So when his sticky cum shit out of his cock and to your panties, he groaned in pleasure as he saw you lick the cum off your own panties. He felt his cock want more. You’ve completely broken the man.
You pushed his back down on your bed and got on top of him. Your dress rode up to your waist, exposing your cunt to him. His hands immediately traveled to your hips as you aligned your entrance with his cock.
You slowly pushed yourself down on his cock, down to his balls. He stretched you out and he shuddered as he felt your tight pussy pulsate against his needy cock. His mind was clouded with lust and all he wanted right now was for you to fuck him dumb.
You slowly began to move your hips in a forward and backward motion, starting off easy at first so both of you could get used to it. Leon rolled his head back and closed his eyes tightly shut as he felt you ride him.
You slowly began to lift yourself up and then bring yourself down. He also began to buckle his hips to thrust into you, your velvety walls felt so good against his cock and he only wanted more. So, with his strong grip, he began to move you. He picked you up and then brought you back down with force. This time, you were the one being fucked dumb.
Your hands traveled to his shoulders as he fucked into you from under you. Your nails clawing at his dress shirt as you moaned messily. Your whimpers only caused him to go harder and faster. His grip on your hips would sure leave a mark but you didn’t care. He let go with one hand and pulled down the straps of your dress to expose your bouncing breasts. You weren’t wearing any bra or pasties, what a dirty little slut. He smirked as he watched your tits bounce as he moved you up and down on his cock with brute force. His head bruising your cervix and hitting your g-spot all at once. It felt amazing. You rolled your eyes back as you arched your back.
He knew you were close when your moans and whimpers began to cut short by your breaths. You were a mess. Your makeup ran down your face as your hair was disheveled. Sweat running down your body as his own sweaty forehead caused his hair to glue down to his skin. He grunted as he felt your pussy clench and throb against his cock. He had to pause for a moment as he felt you come down on him. Your juices spilling down to his balls to your bedsheets.
Once he gathered his breath, he continued to fuck you. This time, he rolled you over to your back and pressed you in a mating press- pressing your thighs to your chest as he held your legs apart and down to your body. He stuffed his cock in and out harshly as he chased his own release. You rolled your head back and closed your eyes as you felt his fuck you even harder. The headboard of your head clashing against the wall as he used his muscles to fuck you harder and harder.
He felt his own cock throb inside you and without notice, he had came inside of you. His sticky essence covering your pink walls, claiming your pussy as his. He pushed himself in as he spurted every last drop into your womb and cervix. He needed to make you understand that no one would fuck you like he would.
He remained inside you for a moment as he stared down at your messy appearance- to which he found hot and felt like he could go for a second round. If only he was younger, because he would’ve fucked you until the morning.
He slowly pulled out of you and watched as his cum ooze slowly out of your clenching pussy to your ass. Cum staining your bedsheets as evidence of what the two of you had done. He dropped down beside you as he stared up at ceiling. He then turned to look at you.
He couldn’t help but admire your beauty. If you’d told him that he would be down bad for one of his students, he would’ve told you that you were crazy. And yet, here he was. Laying next to the girl he’d give everything to.
With a goofy grin, he spoke in a soft and playful tone, “Again?” You chuckled and opened your eyes to look at him,
“Again.”
#leon kennedy#leon s kennedy#leon scott kennedy#resident evil#leon kennedy x reader#id leon kennedy#leon kennedy x y/n#leon kennedy x you#leon s kennedy x reader#di leon#leon kennedy smut#leon smut#smut
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⋅ 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.
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The Arrangement (8) - Revelations
Chapter summary: You finally confront Ava, but the conversation takes an unexpected turn.
Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav
Warnings: Innuendo. Mentions of abuse and trauma.
Word count: 5.3k
Series Masterlist
You found him by the edge of a cliff overlooking Baldur's Gate.
The first rays of light began to spill into the morning sky in hues of yellow fused with orange. You would never tire of watching the city you called home being engulfed in such beauty.
“Enjoying the view?”
Astarion was holding a somewhat mellow smile on his lips as he turned to face you.
“I hadn't seen this much colour bathing the city in over two hundred years.”
You stopped next to him, looping an arm around his and resting your face against his shoulder.
“It's beautiful, isn't it?”
He sighed. “I do not want to get too attached to it. In case things go awry, that is.”
‘Awry’ meaning that he wouldn't be able to ascend…
It always made your heart clench to think about how much Astarion still held on to that.
But you didn't want to think about such things for now.
For now, you were more than content to share this moment with him.
“The sun looks beautiful on you,” you said truthfully.
It wasn't exactly a challenge, but you adored praising and stroking his ego.
A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest. “As most things do, darling."
"That is true.”
He then placed his cold hand atop yours. “As you once did.”
His words hit you with such force that you felt your chest too heavy all of a sudden.
You glanced up at him, meeting his soft crimson eyes. “Astarion…”
Would he ever move on?
Would he ever move on from you?
He offered a defeated smile. “I know, I know. Just friends, right?”
You nodded. “Yes.”
He didn't utter another word as he looked on ahead.
You kept your grip around him, enjoying his firmness and how he made you feel so safe and comfortable.
Deep down, you were just thankful he couldn't see the single tear that streamed down your face.
The cold and wet trail brought you back to witness the sight of the sun emerging on the horizon line.
You pulled your legs up so you could rest your chin on your knees, hugging yourself as the breathtaking view filled your vision.
How you wished you could share this with him like many times before.
As lovers.
As friends.
You wiped the tear away with the back of your hand as sadness spread inside you.
There was no point in dwelling in the impossible. At least until you found a way for him to experience all the colour the world had to offer with no limitations.
Sleep hadn't come to you this night and it wasn't because of nightmares or the fact that Astarion had left you painfully yearning for his touch.
Your mind was just all over the place, trying to make sense of how things felt with him after that conversation.
Truth be told, you were more than happy with the occasional intimacy and giving him space.
But his taunting words still lingered in your mind.
You were certain he craved more than a friendship, but how much of that spread beyond carnal lust was something you weren't sure about.
Maybe even Astarion didn't know.
As much as you longed for more, you still wanted to mend your friendship first and bridge the distance that had come between you two.
As you pushed yourself from the bed and slipped into your robe, you took a quick glance at the mirror in front of you.
Eyes puffy and reddened paired with deep eyebags.
Wonderful.
You heaved a deep sigh as you exited the room, heading towards the kitchen area to brew some tea.
The door to his room was firmly shut and you hurried past it with bare feet.
The entire house was still swallowed in silence and darkness.
You quickly lit up a few candles before reigniting the fireplace and putting the kettle on.
The familiar squeak of the door to his room filled your ears.
As the water came to a boil, you poured a few herbs inside the cup as you poured the scalding liquid.
You heard him call out your name and your stomach immediately fluttered as he came into view, slowly pacing towards you.
“How did you know it was me?”
Astarion's lips curled into a smile. “I know the sound of your footsteps by heart.”
There was no trace of deceit in his remark.
His voice rang true and not as a mere attempt at flustering you with honeyed words.
He meant it and you felt the warm embrace of his presence tightly enveloping you.
Astarion had learned the way to your heart like no one else had ever tried to.
He could crawl under your skin and have you yearn for him like no one else could.
And he did all of this effortlessly and like second nature.
You returned a warm smile, feeling the addictive embrace of his presence.
He felt like the home you longed to come back to.
As you moved to sit on the sofa nearby, enjoying the warmth that radiated from the cup in your hands, he eventually sat next to you, crimson eyes meeting yours and, for a moment, you held your breath.
He was your home.
“You look horrible.”
A snarky one.
You chuckled at his bluntness, taking a sip. “Didn't get much sleep.”
“Nightmares again?”
“No. My mind was just busy…”
He slowly nodded. “Was it too much? What we did?”
You glared at him in surprise. “What? No. What about you?”
His eyes narrowed. “I wanted more.”
“That doesn't answer my question.”
He crossed his legs, adjusting his elegant shirt. “It wasn't nearly enough.”
“You were the one to stop it…”
“Because I had to. Gods know how long it took to… calm down, so to speak.”
The implication that dangled from his words wasn't particularly subtle.
Oh.
Oh.
Your cheeks flared up. “I… didn't hear you…”
Astarion flashed a teasing smile. “I know how to avoid being heard, unlike a certain someone.”
Bad timing had you nearly choking on your tea.
“Careful, darling. You'll get all wet… again.”
The nerve!
You shot him murderous glare, wiping your chin.
Then the two fell into a comfortable silence.
You melted into the backrest of the sofa, cradling the cup in your hands, humming a tune that you had almost forgotten about.
“I find myself missing our journey, you know?” he said after a while.
“Even having to play the hero?”
He tapped his chin pensively. “Even that, as surprising as it sounds. I could have done without all your ridiculous acts of heroism, but I grew to enjoy indulging in some of them.”
Your heart thudded happily at his honesty.
“Who would have thought that you’d find joy in being selfless,” you teased with a smile.
He lifted one finger. “Do not misunderstand. I still come first. I spent too many centuries not being able to and I won't give that up now.”
You nodded, fully understanding his line of thinking.
In the meantime, your hand had dropped in between you two and you felt coldness reach your fingers.
You looked down, startled, only to be met with his fingers gently brushing against yours.
And just like clockwork, your heart sped up.
Astarion had his eyes fixed on the swirling flames that emanated from the fireplace.
Little by little, his fingers began to intertwine with yours until his hand gripped you tightly.
Your mind blanked for a moment at how unexpected this was.
In time, his cold skin began to warm up against yours.
And then it dawned on you that he had never held your hand this way.
He had helped you up on your feet more times than you could count.
He had gripped your hand in his as both of you hurried along collapsing halls and while being chased by the most vicious of creatures.
But he had never held your hand as if seeking for silent comfort.
You shifted so you could rest your head on his shoulder.
He tensed slightly under your touch, but eventually relaxed and you seized the opportunity to melt into his side, enjoying the familiar scent of bergamot and rosemary.
Home.
You weren't sure how much time had passed, but the tear in your cup had gone tepid and you began to feel guilty.
You had considered not telling him about confronting Ava.
But you didn't want to lie and hide anything from him, especially if it concerned him in the first place.
You pulled slightly away from him and he met your gaze.
“I'm going to meet Ava tonight.”
You expected an angry outburst of indignation from him, but were met with an inquisitive glare instead.
“Why doesn't that surprise me at all?”
That was it?
“Wait… you are not going to talk me out of it?”
At this, he faintly chuckled, still firmly gripping your hand in his.
“Honestly, darling, when has that ever worked?”
Point taken.
He knew of your stubbornness all too well.
“Besides, do you intend on killing her?”
You widened your eyes. “I – no? I don't think so?”
Though you couldn't swear on this until you were actually absolutely sure she was as harmless as he claimed her to be.
“Then, you have my blessing.”
You then narrowed your eyes suspiciously at him. “You don't even want to go with me?”
“Do you want me to?”
“It's not necessary.”
He shrugged. “Then I won't.”
Astarion was acting uncharacteristically accepting of your intrusion, and that rang a plethora of alarm bells in your head.
It was as if he knew you'd have no reason to harm her.
“Why are you so… calm about this?”
His eyes met yours. “I am well aware you can turn Ava into a pile of dust should she cross your path. But I don't believe you will do such a thing.”
“Why not? I don't trust her.”
His grip around your fingers eased slightly. “I don't expect you to, but you do trust me, don't you?”
“Yes.”
You didn't hesitate for a second. After all, you had trusted Astarion through things that most people would have staked him for. The two of you were way past the uncertainty of not trusting each other's intentions.
It was more evident that the glaring issue that plagued your relationship was rooted in miscommunication and not mistrust.
“And I trust her.”
That ground on your nerves. “But why?”
“Because I have to.”
You immediately dropped his hand, turning in your seat to fully face him, already feeling the familiar irritation that came with him not being fully open with you at times.
“Astarion, you need to start telling me why you hold her in such high regards,” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You can also trust me. Whatever it is… just tell me.”
He glared at you with a faint scowl. “She is taking my blood with the intention of lessening some vampirism weaknesses.”
Oh?
“Such as?”
“Well, the insatiable hunger is the main focus.”
You stared at him in silence, not quite sure what to make of this.
The Wish Spell could grant him the ability to walk in the sun again, but this seemed even more ambitious.
And dangerous.
“Obviously, this is all rather theoretical, but it seemed like a sound prospect,” he went on, sinking into the sofa with an exasperated sigh. “As selfish as I am, I also considered how this could be helpful to the spawn in the Underdark.”
His words took you quite aback.
“This… seems too good to be true,” you said hesitantly.
“Oh, I'm aware. That is why I am keeping my expectations in check.”
You really, really wanted to hate Ava.
But if her motifs were truly this altruistic, then you were going to have a hard justifying that feeling, which provided another added layer of anger altogether.
“So, if you want to talk to her, you are free to do so. Seeing is believing or so they say,” he said with a witty grin.
You sighed.
Astarion was a bad planner.
No. He was a terrible planner.
He could identify the end goal, but would have no clue how to get there and would merely make adjustments as he went along, hoping for the best.
Luck had been on his side as of late, but you lacked that optimism.
And he obviously saw that splattered across your face.
“Oh, please. I know that look – just say it,” he scoffed.
You weren't even sure what you wanted to say.
Deep down, you felt extremely protective of him and didn't appreciate that she was exchanging lessons in intimacy for his blood.
It all seemed very one-sided and the promise of also helping him – and by extension, the spawn in the underdark – still seemed unrealistically… convenient.
“Are you even sure any of this will work? Has she made any progress with your blood?”
“Some progress. Not enough to keep me too hopeful, but I will take anything these days.”
You could sympathise with the sentiment, but…
“I still think there is something off about her.”
Astarion just looked as amused as ever. “No jealousy?”
You rolled your eyes. “No.”
“Well, she would have nothing to gain from sending us both to prison,” he said. “She knows I exclusively feed on you and that I do need to feed regularly.”
The nonchalant way in which he uttered those words, brought a wave of heat to your face, as the events from a few hours earlier resurfaced in your mind.
There was a hint of intimacy in the act itself, but also in the aftermath. Astarion's senses would be sharpened as your blood coursed through his body.
“Seems like I broke your concentration, darling,” he said teasingly, effectively snapping you from your thoughts.
You jolted briefly and then scowled, annoyed that he could see right through you so easily.
“Don't flatter yourself.”
He gave you a devious smile. “I don't have to. Not when your body provides the finest flattery there is.”
Gods.
You wished you could turn off the effect his honeyed words always had on you.
Clearing your throat, you straightened up in your seat. “Very well, then. I am willing to be enlightened.”
A teasing smile tugged faintly at his lips. “Good girl.”
Your heart skipped a beat.
He knew exactly what he was doing.
Regaining your composure, you said, “Wyll is going there with me tonight.”
Astarion drew a sleazy grin this time. “Oh, so that was what the two of you were plotting yesterday.”
You rolled your eyes.
“And here I thought sweet Wyll had finally mustered the courage to take you out on a lavish date,” he said with a dramatic and forceful pout. “Seems like romance is dead, after all.”
For some odd reason, Astarion was under the impression that Wyll harboured feelings for you that surpassed friendship.
But what Astarion didn't know was that your heart was too full of him to allow room for anyone else.
His taunting words created the perfect opening for you to return the gesture.
“No jealousy?”
His smile only grew wider. “Do you want me to be jealous?”
You were entering his territory, and should tread lightly.
“Maybe you should be jealous,” you whispered.
He shifted closer to you and you held your breath.
“And why is that? Why should I be jealous of your friendship with him?”
Gods, he was good .
Your heart drummed faster in your chest as his face drew near.
He was a master at disarming you with carefully laid out traps whilst using his words as alluring bait.
“He's very… friendly.”
You inwardly cringed at your ridiculous remark, which earned a chuckle from Astarion.
At this point, he was so close you almost feel his cool lips on yours.
“Well, hopefully not this friendly.”
That was it.
He was going to kiss you and you couldn't give a damn about it.
But before he could do so, the faint rhythmic thud of footsteps pulled you out of immersion, and the two of you pulled apart at once.
Lae'zel.
She reached the bottom of the staircase, eyeing both of you like she had just run into the most disappointing event of her life.
“The sun has yet to fully rise, and the two of you are already at it again,” she said with a scowl. “Wasn't the coupling from last night enough?”
Your jaw dropped open in sheer mortification.
Surely she hadn't… heard anything… right?
“Where is your sense of decorum, Lae'zel?” Astarion clicked his tongue, leaning back against the sofa once more.
She gave him a stern glare. “You wouldn't know decorum if it hit you in that pale face of yours, Astarion.”
He chuckled. “My, my… someone is feisty today.”
“The sounds you two made could raise the dead from their graves,” she said, moving swiftly towards the front door with her sword keeping her company. “I am not sure how much more of this torture I can take.”
You stood up at once, feeling embarrassment take over. “Oh! We… uh… Astarion was just feeding and–”
She held a hand up. “Spare me the grotesque details. I'll be going out on a hunt. Don't expect me for lunch.”
And without a further exchange, she slipped through the door.
Astarion was now on his feet and heading towards the staircase.
Somehow, you couldn't help but feel a tad of disappointment as he left your side.
His company was something you reckoned you'd never tire from.
“See you later, darling. And do fix that lovely face of yours,” he teased dramatically. “Rose water works like a charm.”
And you couldn't hold back an endearing smile.
The night came quicker than you had hoped.
Confronting Ava made you feel truly uneasy, especially after learning some more about her.
As promised, Wyll had come to you, escorted by two Fists. The mage slayer stationed outside, quickly joined the four of you, and you felt the magic within you dip dangerously low from her presence.
The journey to The Blushing Mermaid proved to be rather uneventful and you were more than thankful for it.
“Does Astarion know about this?”
You nodded. “He has also told me the reason why she's taking his blood.”
Wyll's eyes met yours and you could see the tension on his face. “Whatever could be the reason?”
Fortunately, the two Fists walked far behind the two of you to preserve some privacy.
“She wants to lessen the effects of vampiric hunger.”
He arched an eyebrow and you approached the familiar tavern.
“That sounds too convenient .”
You almost pulled Wyll into a kiss as he unknowingly validated your concerns.
“Exactly. Maybe I am overthinking it, but I need to make sure nonetheless.”
He nodded firmly.
Those crowding the entrance immediately made way for you to walk inside, and you heard a few salutes as others inside bowed to Wyll.
Bork approached the counter with a tilted smile on his face. “Duke of Ravengard. To what do we owe the pleasure? Hope we are not in trouble?”
A few drunkards nearby erupted in laughter.
“Unless you have indeed done something unlawful, I wouldn't worry too much, Bork.”
He offered Wyll a forced smile, which he didn't return.
“We are looking for Ava,” you chimed in impatiently.
His face instantly dropped. “Ava? Is she in trouble?"
Honestly, what was with everyone and this woman? Was she some goddess in disguise?
“We just wish to talk to her,” Wyll answered.
Bork hesitated at first, but glared at the two Fists flanking you. “First floor. Third room to your left.”
You nodded and swiftly made your way upstairs, feeling your heart hammering fast in your chest as you paced along the corridor.
Wyll knocked thrice on the large door.
It swung open almost immediately, and Ava came into view, holding a knowing smile.
“I was expecting you.”
A swirl of nausea settled in your stomach.
She extended one hand, standing to the side so you could walk in.
“As pleased as I am to be visited by our Duke, I shall ask for you not to enter.”
You immediately turned to see Wyll scowl deeply. “Tonight I'm no Duke – I'm her friend and you shall let me enter.”
Ava tapped on the door lightly. “These are my quarters, and unless I am being charged with wrongdoing, I have the right to decide who to invite inside, Duke .”
The two Fists were gripping the handle of their swords, ready to draw them.
Wyll motioned for the to be at ease and turned his head to you. “I will be waiting outside.”
Ava wiggled her fingers dismissively, further gnawing at your nerves.
“Do not try anything witty, hunter,” Wyll said in a tone you hadn't heard since he last faced Mizora.
She chuckled. “I have abandoned those ways. You may simply call me Ava.”
But before he could reply, she pushed the door closed in one swing and glanced at you with an excessively sweet smile.
“So? I don't believe you came all the way here to simply gawk at me.”
You cleared your throat. “I have a few things I need to discuss with you.”
“Of course. I would be surprised if you didn't.”
Your patience was running thin.
“It concerns Astarion.”
“Still not surprised,” she said with a tilted smile. “I'm all ears.”
“He's told me about you.”
“Hopefully not everything, but do go on.”
She moved to a table and poured a red liquid into a goblet. “Can I tempt you with some red wine?”
You scowled and she laughed. “It is not poisoned, though I do understand your hesitation.” She then took a long sip.
Glancing around the room, you realised it could easily pass off as the inside of an apothecary store. There were endless rows of shelves and cupboards that housed countless vials of glass with suspicious content.
There was a small fire burning by the window with a large flask set right above, the flames barely reaching the bottom as a deep dark red liquid gurgled.
Ava sat on a lavish armchair, holding the goblet to her lips.
“I know you're taking his blood for some experiment in regards to vampirism,” you began, keeping your voice steady. “Even to supposedly help the vampire spawn in the Underdark.”
Her pleasant face wavered momentarily. “He's offering it to me. Freely.”
“You are taking advantage of him.”
“I am not taking advantage of anything. It's a mere transaction that we have both agreed upon.”
“Blood for intimacy?”
“That seems rather… crass.”
“You are taking advantage of his… wounds…”
“Why are you so hellsbent on accusing me of being the one taking advantage of him? He also has much to win from this arrangement.”
“Because you have the upper hand here. The price for a chance at healing from his wounds seems rather unbalanced,” you said, feeling heat flare throughout your entire body. “You get his blood, which is a sure thing, and he gets a ‘perhaps’ on all fronts: intimacy and that hunger “cure” you're promising.”
Ava glared at you with eyes slightly narrowed, chin resting on the back of her hand.
“There are wounds that take time to heal. Some never heal at all, my dear.”
“I'm aware.”
“Are you? Are you, really?” Ava said with a scoff. “I am not the enemy here. Your vitriol against me is rooted in something primal.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Primal?”
“Is it jealousy, I wonder?”
You clenched your fists. “It is not. Whatever bond you think you share with him is superficial and frail. There's nothing to be jealous of.”
“Actually, I do believe your words… it is not jealousy, indeed,” she said, tapping a long nail on her chin. “But rather… protectiveness.”
You remained silent.
“I dare say that protectiveness can blind even the wisest.”
“I am not blinded. I can see there is something unsettling about you.”
“You look, but you do not see,” she said as she took a sip of her wine. “Your attachment to him is your weakness.”
“Caring for others isn't a weakness.”
“You taught him that, did you?”
The faint mockery wasn't lost on you, and it made your nails dig further into your palms, regning in your temper as best as you could.
“He doesn't need to be taught anything. Astarion may need some guidance, as we all do from time to time.”
Ava merely chuckled. “May I see your neck?”
What?
Her words caught you off guard, but you did not move an inch to comply with her request.
“Ah… your reluctance is answer enough,” she tutted. “He has fed on you recently, hasn't he?”
Now, that immediately had your stomach turn in revulsion, realising just how transparent she truly was.
“So this is what it's all about – you just want him to feed on you instead.”
Ava rolled her eyes with a forced yawn. “On the contrary. Of course, I have vaguely wondered what it feels like, but Astarion is far too devoted to your blood to even entertain the idea.”
“Then why did you complain to me about him not feeding on you?”
She crossed her legs elegantly under her emerald green dress. “I was merely taunting you. Again, his devotion gets in the way.”
“I wouldn't necessarily call it ‘devotion’.”
“Oh, but I would. See, Astarion's bond to you is exquisite and much welcome… to say the least.”
Her flowery words were really testing your patience now.
“Elaborate.”
“The last time he fed on you and gave me his blood was right when you left The Blushing Mermaid. A few days later, I tried his blood on some spawn in the city outskirts that have taken to living underground in search of a cure.” She paused briefly to take yet another sip from the goblet. “The results were vastly different from my previous experiments.”
“Can you just get straight to the point for once?”
“Oh, you really are a feisty one…” Ava said with a teasing smile. “As I was saying, the results were rather interesting and unexpected. The spawn reported feeling sated much quicker than before, but the effect wore off in the first hour, which was a disappointment.”
You froze instantly. “You're… using my blood?”
“Well, yes… and no,” she said in a casual tone. “Your blood mixed with his, that is. Before that day, I had never tried his blood after he fed on you.”
You felt as though you might be sick as your stomach lurched violently.
“This is… I – does he know?”
“Well, I haven't been given the chance, considering how the two of you got thrown into prison,” she said with a shrug. “And I am fully aware you think I am somehow responsible for it.”
You were still so taken aback by her earlier revelation, that you had momentarily forgotten about that detail.
“Now, what would I gain from setting you two up, especially after I just told you this.”
She did have a point.
Seemingly.
“You mentioned other spawn – why not use their blood instead? Why his?”
“Oh, darling… ”
The way that word rolled out of her tongue grated on your nerves, and you realised only one person could masterfully use it without provoking a visceral reaction.
“Astarion isn't really your regular spawn, is he? Even when he was under Cazador Szarr's influence, he would still rebel against his commands while his siblings cowered in fear of defying their master.”
An overwhelming sense of dread took over at once.
Astarion has revealed how Cazador had kept him buried alive for a whole year as punishment for letting a potential victim go.
He had clawed his hands raw from despair as he wished for death to just take him.
Even remembering this vaguely, made your heart hurt for him.
“How do you know that?”
Ava rose to her full height, brushing her long and dark curls from her shoulders.
She paced towards a desk and began ruffling through pieces of parchment.
“I was a monster hunter for over twenty years and my group kept a close eye on Cazador and his spawn,” she said, not lifting her eyes. “Astarion had been on our radar for a while, but he was quite experienced in slipping through the cracks whenever we tried to go after him.”
You swallowed.
“Imagine our surprise when he suddenly goes missing. My partners were dumbfounded beyond belief. No vampire spawn is able to resist the compell of their master for that long.”
She then moved back to the armchair, flipping through a couple of scrolls.
“We thought he had met his demise somehow, so imagine my surprise when I find out that he's back in Baldur's Gate. Walking in the sunlight and next to… you.”
You weren't sure where this conversation was headed and you weren't sure you wanted to know.
Ava took your silence as encouragement. “Cazador was attempting to become the Vampire Ascendant and we were set on stopping him, but were instead met with his manor bathed in blood and corpses littering the place.”
So they had gotten there after your group stopped the ritual and prevented the rite from taking place.
“So now you're suddenly an alchemist who wants to help vampire spawn? Why the change of heart?”
Ava met your eyes and her face was void of any amusement. “Astarion and I connect in more ways than you think.”
You scoffed, crossing your arms and waiting to hear some circus clown reasoning.
“I wasn't a monster hunter by choice,” she said sternly. “I was born into it and molded into their ways.”
Your defensive demeanour wavered momentarily.
“I shall not go into details, but all you need to know is that once Cazador Szarr was gone, I was driven by curiosity and sought Astarion out so I could learn more about what makes him so different from all the other spawn I've come across.”
You narrowed your eyes at her. “So you just left your group? Just like that?”
She snickered. “They were killed.”
“What? By whom?”
She snickered as she took another sip. “By me.”
You were left speechless.
“I thought that if a vampire spawn could break the chains from his master and embrace freedom again, so could I.”
She let out a chuckle, emptying the goblet in one sip.
“So, I offered to help him as he's helped me. No more, no less.”
You really wanted to hate her.
You wanted her to give you a solid reason to be suspicious of her intentions.
But…
“So you genuinely care for him?”
She nodded. “I do. And if Astarion were to walk through that door and ask for us to part ways, I would accept it. It would essentially kill my research until I found someone remotely adequate, but I would make peace with it.”
This conversation had not taken the turn you expected.
At all.
“I can see the confusion in your eyes. You truly believed I am out to get you when I'm probably your best option right now.”
“Best option? In regards to what?”
She extended her arm towards a chair in front of her. “Take a seat.”
You did so, reluctantly, never letting your guard down and her out of your sight.
“Cazador Szarr had many enemies, but he also had many allies. People who were not pleased with his death.”
She now had your undivided attention and you felt your palms sweat.
There wad actually someone going after you? After Astarion?
“I have ways to find who they are.”
“Then what are you waiting for?” you immediately asked, feeling rather unsettled by her words.
She clicked her tongue. “I need assurances first, and I have a proposition to make.”
You saw the flash of a knife emerging from her sleeve and a tall glass container being placed on the table by her side.
TBC
Ao3
Series Masterlist
#astarion smut#astarion x tav#astarion x female reader#astarion x reader#astarion x you#astarion x female tav#astarion x f!tav
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Can you do a fic where Y/n and Feyd Rautha celebrate their 18th birthday of their son
Legacy of our bloodline
masterlist ! pairing: Feyd Rautha x reader
Dune Masterlist
In the opulent halls of House Harkonnen, the air was filled with an anticipation that echoed the grandeur of the occasion. Feyd-Rautha and you, Y/N, found yourselves preparing for a celebration unlike any other—the 18th birthday of your son, a symbol of the legacy that intertwined the Bene Gesserit and Harkonnen bloodlines.
The banquet hall, adorned with rich tapestries and flickering candles, awaited the gathering of guests. Feyd-Rautha, with his customary confidence, extended his arm to you. "Y/N, our son's 18th birthday. Can you believe it?"
You smiled, your eyes reflecting the pride and love that filled your heart. "Time has flown, Feyd. Our son has grown into an extraordinary young man."
As the guests began to arrive, the atmosphere buzzed with a mix of celebration and the weight of the Harkonnen legacy. Feyd-Rautha, the formidable heir of House Harkonnen, and you, a Bene Gesserit whose influence transcended politics, stood at the center of the gathering.
The grand doors swung open, and your son entered, dressed in Harkonnen regalia that mirrored the traditions of the house. The room erupted in applause, and as your son approached, a mix of emotions played on Feyd-Rautha's face—a blend of pride, joy, and a hint of nostalgia.
"Happy 18th birthday, my son," Feyd-Rautha declared, his voice resonating through the hall.
The birthday celebration unfolded with a grandeur befitting House Harkonnen. The banquet table groaned under the weight of sumptuous dishes, and the air was filled with laughter and the clinking of goblets.
As the evening progressed, you and Feyd-Rautha found yourselves sharing a quiet moment on a balcony overlooking the grand courtyard. The festivities below created a tapestry of celebration, and the night sky stretched above, a canvas dotted with stars.
"Feyd," you began, your gaze fixed on the horizon, "our son has grown into a remarkable young man. He carries the legacies of both our bloodlines."
Feyd-Rautha nodded, his eyes reflecting a mix of emotions. "He's strong, Y/N, with a fire that mirrors the intensity of House Harkonnen. I see the influence of the Bene Gesserit in his wisdom and understanding."
The balcony provided a sanctuary where the weight of their responsibilities and the complexities of their intertwined destinies faded away. The connection between you and Feyd-Rautha deepened in the quiet acknowledgment of the legacy that had been passed down to your son.
As the night wore on, the celebration reached its peak with a grand toast. Feyd-Rautha raised his goblet, the flames of House Harkonnen emblazoned on its surface. "To our son, a testament to the strength of our union and the legacies that bind us."
The guests echoed the sentiment, and as the toast resounded through the hall, your son stood at the center, the embodiment of a legacy that spanned generations.
Later in the evening, you and Feyd-Rautha found yourselves in the courtyard, the festivities winding down. The echoes of laughter and music lingered in the air as you looked at your son, surrounded by friends and well-wishers.
"Feyd," you whispered, a quiet smile playing on your lips, "our son's 18th birthday— a moment that transcends the complexities of our bloodlines."
Feyd-Rautha nodded, his hand finding yours in a gesture that spoke of a shared journey. "Y/N, our legacy lives on in him. It's a testament to the strength of our union and the bond that goes beyond politics."
As the grand celebration drew to a close, you and Feyd-Rautha lingered in the courtyard, the night alive with the magic of the occasion. The 18th birthday of your son had become more than a celebration of age; it was a testament to the enduring connection between the Bene Gesserit and House Harkonnen—a legacy that surpassed the intricacies of politics, transcending into the realm of family and love.
#feyd rautha imagines#feyd rautha harkonnen x you#feyd rautha x reader#feyd rautha#feyd x reader#feyd rautha harkonnen imagines#feyd x you#feyd oneshot#dune fanfiction#dune imagine#dune x reader#dune imagines#dune part 2#austin butler x you#austin butler x reader#austin butler imagine#austin butler imagines#austin butler#austin butler x y/n
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𝐼𝓂𝓅𝑜𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒮𝓎𝓃𝒹𝓇𝑜𝓂𝑒
Summary: Miles is the villain. You are the hero. You two shouldn't be in love...
Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, afab!reader, canon typical Marvel violence. the reader is an undefined hero (but you can think of them as Spidergirl). No NSFW but both reader and Miles are 18+
Part #2 (The Perfect Girl)
part#3 (The Spider's Web)
There's something about the New York nights, that leaves a faint melancholy glow across Miles's soul.
Some vanquished feeling that humbles him as the stars and moon look down laughing. Celestial bodies that mock him for every sin he's ever committed. Howling at the blood that drips from the edge of his claws.
Miles never thought he was an insomniac. It just so happened that most of his life and routine took place in the dead of night. It had all been a coincidence until he met you. Now he's not sure if it's bad habits or sheer serendipity. All he knows is that he needs to see your face before the night comes to an end.
He hadn't really met you. Not in the traditional sense at least. He'd been sent to kill you. An initiation from the sinister six. Back then he'd thought you were just another sanctimonious fool who was trying to play the role of the righteous hero. There had been many like you before. foolish and virtuous. All were left dead in some ally by daybreak. And yet when you'd landed punch after punch to his ribs. Your body slam caused him to spew blood from behind his mask. You were a tough bug to squish he'd give you that much.
Miles hadn't fallen in love with you that night. Nor the nights after that.
It wasn't love the first time your web dagger nearly missed his heart.
It wasn't love when he had you pinned between his body and the cold street concrete, as you tried to pry off his mask to gouge out his eyes.
It wasn't love when he'd shattered the bones in your leg and you'd been out of commission for a week.
It wasn't love when the two of you lay bleeding on a rooftop. Delusional enough from all the blood loss to try and trace constellations in the polluted night sky.
It wasn't love when you'd returned to that same rooftop the next week to beat him up. And he'd managed to lay a nasty blow to your face.
It hadn't been love all those times. Yet all he knows is that somewhere along the lines Miles Morales had fallen in love with the new hero in town.
He knows you're coming
Senses your presence right as one of the sinister six's weapon cartels blows up in the distance. You never were one to be caught in the aftermath. Ever the dramatic sweetheart, who didn't like to get her hands dirty.
He waits for the telltale sign of your feet hitting the rooftop to turn around. Mask on and heart on his sleeve. "Prowler" you greet, courteous as always. "Hey," he responds. Solid and simple and overflowing with every emotion he wishes he could spill at your feet.
His eyes roam over your suit. Modest and girly, all things you wouldn't expect from New York's only superhero. You look like a doll. All porcelain and ivory. How you've survived so long in this city is beyond him.
There's something wrong with you. Something Miles just can't put his finger on. Every time he looks at you it's like looking into a broken mirror. You're Disfigured, mangled, damaged. Yet all he sees in those shattered shards is the face of the boy he once thought he'd be.
You're the light of New York. The one that promises to save this nightmare of a city. Made up of frilly bows and dreams to big to keep locked up in your head. The rage of the city, of the civilians boils through your blood.
He's the Prowler. A boy born with rebellion in his bones and violence in his veins. A broken heart and a broken soul stitched together with barbwire and cheap glue. He's the sinister six's newest protege and uncle Aaron’s last hope.
He's the villain and you're the hero. You shouldn't be in love.
You skip across the rooftop, arms locked behind your back and spinning when it takes your fancy. You've long since shed any fear you may have once held for him. Standing on your tip toes you rest your chin on his shoulder. "Whatcha looking at?" you ask, with a voice filled with daisies and the summer breeze. "Pieces for my new suit were in the warehouse you just blew up." Oh how Miles wishes he could throw you over the edge. Watch you fall to your death. Maybe then you'd stop plaguing his every thought.
"Sorry, Prowler just doing my job." You sound so carefree, it almost reminds him of how he used to be when his dad had still been alive. "You're an insufferable little insect, you know that?" He feels you smile from under your silk mask."I try"
You're not meant to be the hero. He knows this in his bones. You're too naive and soft-hearted to deal with the terrors of this city. More than anything else Miles Just wants to drag you away. To lock you up somewhere. Somewhere only he knows. A home where the burdens and terrors of this world can't find either of you. A place where you two can finally become one.
But you're not him and he's not you. All this is just a puppy dog crush. And puppy love is for baby-faced boys who didn't watch the life drain from their father's eyes. It's for sweet boys who didn't have their first kill at ten years old.
"what's it like being the hero?" Miles asks, eyes glazing over the stars, staring straight at destiny. Who chose their roles anyway? Who made him the monster carved from rage and pain? Who painted you as the Guardian angel in gold? Why couldn't he be the hero?
You don't respond. Breath hitching and for a second Miles thinks he's hit a nerve. No one ever said doing the right thing was easy. He wonders if you claw away at your own soul. Peeling off your flesh each night to replace it with a silk suit and copper-tainted values.
He imagines you throwing cheap knives at the night sky, watching as God's light deflects them back into your heart.
You walk over to the edge of the roof and sit down. And for the first time ever Miles thinks he sees you for who you really are. Actually sees you. A kid with the weight of the world on their shoulders. An onomatopoeia of breaking glass and the cheers of the cities oppressed.
"They're coming for me, Prowler." You pull your knees to your chest. Eyes looking over the city skyline. "I don't mind. I knew what I was getting into...It's just."
"Just what" his voice reverberates through his mask, he's grateful the metal and digital layers keep the anxiety from seeping through.
"I just never thought I'd die this way" There's a smile in your voice. A final giggle before an impending war. Miles takes a step back. Head heavy as the weight of your words crash down on him. "I saw Venom lurking through my apartment before I came here. They found me, I think they plan to strike tonight."
He wishes he could tear this city apart, break its seams, and rapture its pillars. He can't let you die. He just can't. With a forceful tug on your shoulder he turns you his way. Mask slipping away as he slides his finger under your silk facade as he pulls it away.
Miles's lips capture yours. As he kisses the dying stars trapped under your tongue and behind your teeth. His lips trail down your neck as he kisses the fatigue from your bones. Metal claws clutched tightly around you as if you may decay if he lets go.
Sometimes he wants to dismantle his ribcage, piece by piece. Pickaway at the ribs and offer you his blackened heart on a silver platter. It's not his fault that he fell in love with the girl stitched together from radioactive spider bites and misplaced nightmares.
every time Miles sees you he feels a certain feeling like the world turned upside down. Like he woke up fundamentally broken with no way to piece himself back.
His claws trace up, gliding past your shoulders' to your neck. You don't refuse him, feeling safe for the first time since you dawned your mask and made your vows. You let him touch your neck as your naivety shines through. He won't hurt me, you think. But oh, how wrong you are.
Miles wraps his fingers around your neck. Squeezing and squeezing as he watches you claw at metal. You look so beautiful suspended over the edge like this. There's something about being half awake and half asleep and half dead and half alive that makes you glow. He wants to say something along the lines of 'I love you'. He doubts you're conscious enough to hear him.
You're not his, not exactly. But Miles can't bear to let anyone else lay claim to you. It's a sickness he knows. But he'd rather be sick than lose you.
He'll keep you safe, he swears it. By the time you awaken, he'll have found somewhere safe for the two of you to hideout until he can convince his "mentors" to spare your life. It'll be fine, It has to be, after all...
He's Miles Morales, the Prowler
#miles morales x reader#earth 42 miles morales x reader#spiderverse x reader#spiderverse#atsv x reader#miles morales#earth 42 miles morales#atsv#miles morales x you#yandere miles morales#yandere spiderverse#miles morales fanfiction#42 miles morales#yancore#yandere x read#yandere earth 42 miles morales#across the spiderverse#earth 42 miles fluff#yandere 42 miles#prowler miles#miles morales prowler#spiderman x reader#yandere marvel#marvel x reader#marvel#yandere scenarios#yandere oneshot#yandere imagines#yandere x you#spiderverse spoilers
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Charm’
Footballer!E-42 Miles Morales x reader
IN WHICH despite the amount of fame and fangirls that your footballer boyfriend Miles receives, he never fails to remind them that he’s yours and yours only at the end of the day.
A/N: this is a rushed ass wip that i wanted to finish, so don’t expect much😭
The yelling and high-pitched crying has been going on for a solid minute now, and the red carpet laid between the crowd control barriers has yet to be occupied. It was always this way, fans crying out their love to Miles before the man could even leave the building, then yelling some more as the poor man simply walked down the short hall to reach the comfort of the black limousine that was always awaiting him 20 minutes before his appearance.
From behind the shut doors, a suited Miles was mentally preparing himself for his entrance. If he had known that this was the reality of fame, he would’ve never signed the contract in the first place. Though who is he even kidding, anybody would have taken the chance to play for their favourite football team if they could. Hell, he would’ve signed the contract for any team at this point, it was his childhood dream to play in a professional football club - and he was sure that it was many other kids’ dream as well.
Miles couldn’t help but close his eyes for reassurance, begging for his mind to concentrate on anything else but the uproar behind the closed doors that stood just a few metres away from him. Clouded by awe, the obvious first thing that his mind could find to distract himself was you. Lord, he even had to run a hand down his hair to stop his thoughts from running too far.
You and Miles had been together for 3 years now, that was 2 years before he got signed in the team, and one year into his famous days. Sometimes he’d wake up and raise his head towards the sky to utter a prayer, thanking a god that he didn’t believe in for having you stay by his side despite the ups and downs.
Miles walked towards the nearest body mirror, the heels of his shoes clicking against the tiled floor as he did so. He made sure to check himself out one last time to see if he looked presentable, he sure as hell wasn’t about to leave the building with a crumpled suit, that wouldn’t look good on the photos now would it?
As Miles neared the exit again, a familiar tune caught his attention from beyond the closed doors. A melody that he could recognize from millions of others, one that he’d stay up relistening to with you past midnight as you both failed to fall asleep. The hypnotising voice that would fill his playlist beyond the never ending lists of rap songs, Rema.
Miles shut his eyes for a split second, reliving all the singing and laughing-filled moments shared between the both of you as this song played in the background. Taking a final deep breath, Miles finally grounded himself enough to push past the doors. It didn’t even take a millisecond for the roaring of fangirls to erupt, and his foot had yet to even step ground on the outside of the building.
The camera flashes didn’t wait for him either, blinding him before he even had the chance to step foot on the carpet. Miles would beg to accept that he was used to it now, he’d love to say that he had gotten used to it now after a year of living through it. Though he’d be a liar to admit so, and everything just feels so overwhelming.
Nevertheless, the striking smile on his face never faltered, and he looked cunning to the very eye. He stood there unmoving for a couple of seconds, letting the cameras capture every good angle of his before they swarm him on the carpet. Miles can’t help his eyes from trailing into the crowd. The very same brown iris widening at the sight, unable to help the deep chuckle that escapes within him.
A swarm of women, including a couple of men, yelling at his name. Some of them have hefty signs that are raised up for him to see, and he laughs at the outrageous things that are written on them. Their confidence blows at Miles, how in hell can anyone go out in public while holding a sign filled with such filth. It makes him shiver at the fact that those things are written about him, but a warm smile makes way to his face as he skims through the “I Love You” ones.
He too, loves his fans as much as they adore him. Even through the rather explicit messages that they leave him, he loves them throughout. Beyond the hate that he inevitably received after becoming a public face, Miles must admit that the love is much rewarding. It soothes a piece of his heart that has been tainted by the stress of being a footballer, and it’s even better when he catches children looking up to him with a miniature version of his jersey on. It envelopes his heart with a warmth that he can’t even grasp.
A sudden movement strays from the others, and it catches Miles' attention. If it wasn’t for the blinding flashes of the paparazzi and the thousands of screeching fans, he would’ve definitely noticed the limousine waiting for him at the end of the line, but he feels his heart stammer as the driver delicately opens the back door.
Sure, on the outside, Miles’ may resemble a stoic guy. His resting bitch face does his kind heart little justice, and the two fine braids that accompany his fade just boosts his intimidating look. On the inside, Miles feels his heart pounding uncontrollably at the sight of you waiting in the ride for him. You’re seated at the other side of the open door, keeping a place for him besides you.
A small smile rises on Miles' face, and a wicked idea brews in the back of his head. He walks a bit faster towards his car, confusing the cameramen and the people that are throwing themselves above the bars just to get a touch of this man. However, when he reaches the car, you’re shocked when he motions for you to grab onto his hand.
Sure, yours and Miles’ relationship was never kept at bay from anyone. You’d been with him since before his fame, and he’d be a loser to keep you in the dark now that he was famous, with your consent of course. It wasn’t unusual that Miles’ would often get questions about you during interviews, and you’d often find yourself smiling at the TV as you watched him answer them with pride.
Though this was different. You’d never accompanied him out to events, yet alone on a carpet walk. It had nothing to do with Miles but all with you, you weren't all the shy on a usual, but almost afraid of the camera’s. You’d seen the way they’d flash attack your boyfriend from behind the closed car windows, and sometimes you feared that they’d end up snapping a shitty picture of you, post it and then you’d get burnt on the internet.
The web wasn’t a nice place and you knew it, plus with the thousands and jealousy-infected women out there, you just knew that the things they’d say were going to be more than nasty. Though as you watched Miles’ ‘there’s no pressure’ smile and his soft hand reaching out to you, you decided to push those fears away.
“Hey ma,” Miles spoke softly to you, the charm in his voice unavoidable as he stared straight into your eyes. It was hard to only stare into those eyes of yours, because once Miles had helped you out of the car, he couldn’t help but notice just how stunning you were on this night. Not that you weren't usually eye-catching, he believed that you were the most beautiful woman to ever grace this earth, though something about this newfound confidence just made you so much more attractive.
“hey..” You were clad in a skintight, dark blue dress that had been gifted to you by none other than Miles. He’d smooth talk you through the “here’s a beautiful dress for a beautiful girl”, in all of his sap. The opera gloves were just as dark as the dress, and the light reflecting off of it gave the blue colour its stunning shine. Miles was enamoured by you, his brown iris unable to leave your form as you stood on your Smiling Melody platform heels.
Miles loves everything about this moment, from the way you dressed so chique despite your sole aim tonight being to pick up Miles from here before dipping back home. He loved how extra you were, always urging to be the best dressed even if it was for a supermarket trip. Miles loved how that shy smile of yours never left your face as you continued to stare at him.
The chorus of cheers from behind the both of you broke you out of your trance, and finally, you collected the courage to turn around and face everyone. Miles’ warm palm found a home within your lower back, and the comforting presence of it was enough to ground you. You knew that he was looking at you with that lovesick expression of his, you didn’t even need to glance up at him to be sure.
The middle of the carpet found you well, and an unfamiliar feeling surged in your chest at the sight of so many people. So many cameras and so many eyes fixed towards you, like your place didn’t belong next to your boyfriend that stood right besides you. Though you tried to keep the thoughts at bay, there were too many things to look at and too many things to concentrate on. It was overwhelming.
But through your concerns, Miles just knew how to appease your thoughts.
Ending the night with Miles kissing you before the very cameras was not how you had expected things to go. In fact, you were sure that he’d angled the both of you to face them, instead of trying to shy away. He didn’t want to hide you, and he wasn’t. The excessively loud roar that broke the crowd once more now fell pridefully to his ears.
He wanted to show you off to the world, show these people around the globe that they stood no chance besides you. He wanted the images to hit the news, be the main title of next week's People magazine. Miles’ wanted nothing more than having these girls holding up those outrageous signs to go back home with disappointment swarming their chests as they realise that he’ll only ever be with you, as mean as it sounds.
You didn’t either expect the night ending up with you and Miles unable to keep your hands off of each other during the ride back home, him whispering all sorts of blarney talk into your ears as you gripped onto his shoulders for dear life, but that’d be a magazine-cover drama for another week.
For now, you’d enjoy your giggle-filled ride back home as you both unceasingly requested for the chauffeur to replay the previous song. And amidst his annoyance, he had no other choice than to bother each time the song ended to press backwards on the limousine’s tactile screen. The music was a little too loud for his taste, but that’d be something that you could care about tomorrow morning. For now, you’d be too busy enjoying the tunes of Rema’s Charm with Miles to bother about anything else.
-
IK there’s not much actual footballer!miles but this is just some sort of intro to the AU, if i choose to continue it…
#miles morales x reader#miles morales#earth 42 miles morales x reader#footballer!miles morales#footballer!miles#miles morales fluff#earth 42 miles x reader#miles morales x you#atspv
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"sleepless nights w the f1 boys"
Charles Leclerc
his fingertips, rough and dry, are warm as they sketch circles into the back of your hands. you're uncertain of whether he's even aware of it — gaze lingers on your lover, distracted by his gentle charting of constellations in the midnight sky. his voice, a steady murmur, narrates the story of cygnus' lost love and delphinus' persuasion. the chilled air is held at bay as you remain nestled at his side. soon the night softens, inky blue yielding to pinks and oranges as you trade dreams and stories, your heart filling as fatigue settles into your bones.
Carlos Sainz
late-night drives through deserted city streets unfold like a poetic journey. the hum of the engine blends seamlessly with the laughter that fills the car. childhood stories are shared, echoing through the serene space beyond. with each turn, memories are etched into the fabric of the night, becoming invisible threads that linger in the quiet hours that follow. carlos’ handprint on your upper thigh tingles long after parking, sending sparks up your spine as you two head back up to your shared bed.
Danny Ricciardo
the moonlight casts a soft, clandestine glow, accentuated by the fairy light someone had left hanging. rusty bulbs flicker as danny pulls you up by the hands, the out-of-bounds rooftop transforming into an impromptu private dance floor. below, the city is sleepless and alive with its pulsating energy, serving as your silent witness. the faint notes of your paramour’s cologne, a blend of skin and soap, envelops your waltz as you rest your heavy head against his chest. he hums an all-too-familiar melody and in this suspended moment, time seemed to stretch.
George Russell
on cozy nights in, you both find yourselves entwined in a nest of blankets, a sanctuary of warmth. the orange glow from your nightstand delicately paints the walls, creating a cocoon that shields you from the chill outside. amidst the quietude, secrets and dreams are exchanged like cherished treasures. a small flame is kindled in the tranquil space you've carved out for each other — a haven where the moments hover, suspended in the the warmth of your shared breaths, as sleepless nights turn into timeless memories.
Lando Norris
in the realm of virtual gaming marathons, the hours extend into early mornings, a landscape illuminated by the lights of your screen. shouts of triumph and screams of anguish punctuate the air, interweaving with playful banter that colours the room. oceans away from the love of your life, his laughter still resonates through your headphones as he achieves a triple-kill. you cherish every digital heart he sends through your private chat, a reminder of the connection you share despite the physical distance.
Lewis Hamilton
in the tranquillity of midnight, a serene park becomes your canvas for shared introspection. the world transforms into a tapestry of silver and shadows as you two embark on a quiet stroll, hands entwined. conversations unfurl like the delicate petals of snow-white lilies, their fragility mirrored in the hushed murmurs. the night air carries whispers of dreams and aspirations that mingle with the rustle of leaves underfoot. in the hallowed stillness, your footsteps fall into cadence on the gravel path, heartbeats synchronizing like a ballet telling the story of forging connections.
Max Verstappen
beneath the vast expanse of twinkling stars, you both pitch your tents on damp grass. the crackle of a campfire and the rustle of pine trees create the soundtrack to this new chapter in your relationship. flickering flames cast dancing shadows on max’s face as he concentrates on roasting marshmallows. the stars above interrupt every shared gaze and every brush of your hands. the magic sparkling in the inches between your frames settles deep into your bones, destined to be a memory never forgotten.
#f1 imagine#f1 headcanons#f1 fluff#f1 x reader#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc x reader#carlos sainz fluff#carlos sainz x reader#daniel ricciardo fluff#daniel ricciardo x reader#george russell fluff#george russell x reader#lando norris fluff#lando norris x reader#lewis hamilton fluff#lewis hamilton x reader#max verstappen fluff#max verstappen x reader#formula one fluff#formula one x reader#my writing#itsvelyria
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I think about it a lot, how the name of Spectres is incredibly fitting for the rebels of Lothal. Each is a ghost, and each is haunted by one, or many.
The ghost of the Jedi Order haunts Kanan Jarrus. He is one of their last relics: a symbol of a forgotten creed and age. He tries his best to pass his teachings on to his own padawan, but deep down he knows that the traditions of the Order will die with him. He tried not to let it bother him. Sometimes in the corner of his eye, he will see a tall woman in brown robes, smiling gently at him.
The ghost of her mother, Eleni, haunts Hera Syndulla. To look at herself in the mirror is to look at the face of her beloved ryma. Hera possesses the fire and iron will of Eleni, the very will that followed her to her end. Sometimes, when Cham Syndulla reads the headlines of Imperial newspapers, decrying a new terrorist cell known as the Spectres, he will think of the woman he loved, and how she lives strong in their daughter.
The old C1-10P unit known as Chopper is the ghost of the Republic; not the Jedi, nor the Sith, but the everyday soldier who took up arms for their galaxy, soldiers who could not know the full breadth of evil that threatened them. Chopper does not sleep, but on occasion, his memory core will play back a scene of a burning ship, and the scream of the pilot behind him.
The ghost of his people haunts Garazeb Orrelios. He is the last of his kind, completely alone in a galaxy of quadrillions. His people follow him in the words no one understands but him, in the weapon he wields that has been passed down through generations, in the small traditions only he observes, if only to remind himself that he is still a Lasat. In the golden light of a star cluster, some of those ghosts are put to a much deserved rest; the rest follow onwards in quiet reverence.
The ghost of her family haunts Sabine Wren. To her clan she is dead, and to her, her family is dead as well. Though the mere thought of them makes her chest ache with want, she stands strong in her solitude. Mandalore still throbs within her in every shot from a blaster, in every stroke of a paintbrush, in every explosion that paints the night sky with fire. When she is alone, though, the face of her beloved brother, the voice of her father, the warm touch of her mother will keep her company.
The ghost of Mira and Ephraim Bridger, and the planet they call home haunt their son, Ezra. As he grows old in a distant galaxy, Ezra Bridger has no trouble remembering his fathers face, for it had become his. In every step, in every breath, he radiates the howling of wolves, the chitter of cats, the towering spires of rock, the natural music of Lothal. He is driven by his ghosts; two of them are laid to gentle sleep in the fluttering fury of fyrnocks wings, the other in the pulsing glow of purrgils.
The ghosts of his brothers, even those who did not die in battle, follow former trooper CT-7567, better known as Rex. He sees them in the weathered faces of those who did survive, in a cloudy handprint on a wall, in the clocks as they strike five, in the symbol of the republic he fought and failed to protect. He is both a paragon of the endless cruelty of the fallen republic, and the gentle humanity of the long gone Jedi.
The ghost of a unit of boys on Onderon, barely old enough to know they had been sent to die, follow Alexsandr Kallus. He is the whisper of misplaced, frantic hope that things could become better if he only tried hard enough, if he only pushed himself further. His ghosts only appear to him in his dreams, beyond the veil of smoke and fire and screams, where he is not strong enough to push them aside.
In each there is a ghost, and in each a ghost follows them, shaping their world, driving their choices, changing their fate.
#Look lads!#I finally posted it!#star wars rebels#swr#sw rebels#star wars#kanan jarrus#hera syndulla#chopper star wars#garazeb orrelios#zeb orrelios#sabine wren#ezra bridger#captain rex#commander rex#agent kallus#alexsandr kallus#meta analysis
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Respawn and Relive
@thenightwolf51 who tagged me in this months ago, but I didn't know enough about Respawn to write something. I didn't forget! I just still haven't found much on him, so sorry if I get his character wrong.
They don't give him a name.
It's one of the first things he notices they do to dehumanize him. It's not like they see clones as humans- he's just a science experiment meant to keep the legacy of the League of Assassins alive, even at the cost of his life.
He is just there to be trained to follow commands, and if needed, he is spare parts for the Real Son. He is made from part of the same DNA as the Real Son, but that hardly matters to what should be his mother, as she does not feel anything for his biological father and thus feels nothing for the being created from the two DNAs.
He is the clone created by Slade Wilson- alias Deathstroke- and Talia al Ghul. She may not had a hand in his creation, as that was done by her father, but she had no issues using him.
Torment him. Rip him apart and put it back together just to see what happens.
She looks at him with the same gaze she would a sword. Valuating his worth by how well he can do in training, how healthy his organs are, and how he should be nothing but a loyal dog.
But he isn't. Not really.
If this was all he knew, maybe he would be the weapon they wanted, but he knows more. Remembers more. Yes, he doesn't have all his memories, but he has flashes- glimpses- of the life he had before the Leauge.
They would disapprove of the memories, which makes them all the more precious.
He can still clearly remember his mother- his real mother- a brilliant mind, his father's warm, solid hugs, and his sister's gentle eyes. He can recall his home's layout even if he can not remember the street or how far it was from his school. He can identify his two best friends' faces even if their names slip through his fingers like falling sand.
He also remembers his first name and the initials of his last.
Danny F.
He thinks he died before, waking up as the clone. He remembers standing inside a metallic cave- or a large hole in a machine?- and being electrocuted. He remembers the screams, the flashes of light, the pain, and even a glimpse of his best friends' horrified faces but not much else.
The next clear memory is looking in a mirror to see white hair and green eyes. The same combination he now sports as the Leguage's weapon and spare organ farm.
The memories after that are filled with harsh training, even more, brutal torture, and the reintegration that should his half-brother ever need them, he would give up his organs for the Real Son.
He is, after all, Damian Wayne's gift. He was created to harvest his super healing for the boy's body parts. Danny thinks he hates him, but he's not sure he can remember what hate is supposed to feel like.
He does remember what love is supposed to feel like.
Sometimes, when all he can do is lay in his cell, body aching as they test his healing factor beyond its limits- they cut off his left arm once, just to watch the tissue slowly regrow- he lets himself drown in his old memories, in the few dream-like sequences.
Some make sense, others don't. For some, he's a black-haired blue-eyed boy, and for others, he has white hair and green eyes.
Danny is sitting in class, eagerly taking notes on a topic he has been having trouble with-
-He's playing fetch with a small green dog, throwing snowballs into the air, flying after the excited creature-
-Danny is playing video games with a goth girl and a nerdy boy, laughing so hard he can't see the buttons on the control correctly-
-He's flaying alongside his sister, aiming his outstretched arm at a figure in the sky, shooting a green ray at the same time she does down below in her mechanical armor-
-Danny is helping his mother mix the dough for the cookies. He is swaying his hips to the song she has on the speaker. She's in her teal jumpsuit, having come up from the lab to do mother/son cookies as they do every Thanksgiving-
-He's testing the latest blaster with his father. They wanted to see if the auto-aiming feature was interfering with his flying. He flickers the white bangs out of his eyes as his father cheers from the roof while he takes aim-
Yes, Danny knows what love is supposed to feel like, even if he can't remember all the details, even if his full name evades him. He will escape the Leauage of Assiagins and find that feeling again.
Maybe he'll track down his biological father. Deathstroke does not know a clone was created by him, so maybe he will be willing to take him in.
It takes months, but eventually, they tell him Damian Wayne needs a kidney. Why? They don't say, but Talia knows her Beloved will donate his own, and she won't stand for it. She orders him to fulfill his duty as guards drag him to the operation table.
He grits his teeth as they strap him down and prep for surgery. Thankfully, they don't apply any anesthetics- they don't deem him worthy of a painless operation- so he has a clear head for escape.
The surgery has a thirty-window opening with no guards around. He waits until they are about to begin when he taps into the powers his memories tell him. He makes his limbs intangible, slipping through the restraints with great effort.
The medics only have a few seconds to be shocked before he is upon them. They lay in a pool of blood- not dead. His chest flares up in pain if he kills, so he tries to avoid it as much as his environment allows- as he flies through the walls. He has been planning here, so he knows what to do. Turning invisible, he passes under a helicopter scheduled for a month supply run.
By doing so, he does not appear on any radars using the large cargo as camouflage. Danny drops into the ocean as the alarms go off on that wrenched island, allowing his whole body to turn tangible. This way, the water does not slow him down as he flies deeper and deeper down, praying that they won't be able to track him the further he goes. When he gets to the part where everything is too dark to see- he picks a direction from where he came and hits top speed.
Traveling three hundred miles an hour, Danny escapes the League of Assians with all his organs intact, so take that Damian Wayne.
He has no real destination in mind but maybe, he can find the little town of his memories or maybe he'll find Deathstroke.
Maybe he will discover what the F. in his name stands for.
For now, he'll work under the name Respawn because that's a name he picked out for himself, and he'll do what he wants. He's no one's tool any longer.
(Miles away Tim Drake squints at the small dot darting from Nanda Parbat on his spying map. He's not sure what kind of misle Ra's just shot, but it's traveling fast, and he feels like he needs to phone this in.
"Hey B, we may have an issue." )
#dcxdpdabbles#dc x dp crossover#Respawn and Relive#Danny wakes as Respawn#He's out in the world#Sort of resents Damian but it's not like his half brother knows about him#Yes he escape earlier because of his somewhat memories#Partial amnesia#TW: Mentions of torture
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i carry your heart with me - Zoro with an s/o he meets during his travels
i carry your heart (with me)
opla!zoro; 1,776 words; fluff, a bit of angst, and then fluff again, fem!reader, implied smut but none actually written out (i know, maybe next time lol)
summary: whipped!zoro is whipped.
a/n: this is painfully self-indulgent. but if u wanna read about zoro being grossly in love... here you go.
he meets you in a city of gold — golden leaves and golden apples, golden wheat and golden cattle. he meets you with your golden voice, a sound like liquid sun; he meets you with your gold-spun dreams, and somehow, he knows you’re the one.
he’d never known a song could sounds so beautiful till he heard you sing for the very first time. he doesn’t blame the jostling crowds of men at the bar as they try to push just an inch closer to the stage, their eyes hazy with candlelight and greed.
but later that night, after too many drinks and a few good hours of usopp regaling their best adventures, zoro kisses you and thinks himself the greediest of them all.
“come with us,” he says, with the sun setting fire to the evening sky.
“come with us,” he says, murmuring the words against your skin, cloaked beneath the darkness of night.
“what would i even do on a pirate ship?” you’d asked, laughing as he ghosts his lips along the column of your neck, content with the thought of drowning himself in the texture of your bitten off sighs.
“dunno, you can sing… we’ve been looking that.”
you pull away to stare at him, and somewhere behind the glassy glaze of your eyes, he finds oceans that he’d never sailed, oceans the depths of which he thinks he could spend the rest of his life trying to explore. but he saw something there that night he’d seen the very first time he’d caught your eyes — the glimmer of want like lamps behind a submarine’s windows — and in them, he sees a thirst for adventure that mirrors his own.
a thirst that he’s tasted on the open salt breeze, in the wild, uncertain whomph of unfurling sails against the backdrop of a dawning sky.
you hum against the skin of his shoulder and he lets his fingers track an indulgent trail along the length of your spine.
“can i at least sleep on it?” you ask, laughing as he sighs huffily and makes to roll away from you. you pull him back with another kiss and he lets himself be properly lost for the first time in what feels like centuries.
in the morning, you find the bed empty and the sun beyond your small bedroom window is cracking over an eggshell dawn. the wind is warm, but the ground is still chilly — the sky is the shade of a fading bruise and by the time you reach port, the grand pirate ship with the sheep’s head mast is no longer there. you sigh, wrap your shawl more tightly around your shoulders and wonder if he’ll ever think of you again.
he does, though he wouldn’t get the chance to tell you for years and years and years.
“i thought you said you’d convince her?” sanji asks over a freshly rolled cigarette and two tankards of barrel-aged beer.
zoro shrugs, “i tried.”
“shoulda tried harder, then.”
zoro grunts, taking a long swig of his beer and wincing as he glances between sanji and the glass.
“what’dyou put in here?”
sanji’s grin goes lopsided as he waves a hand vaguely through the air, “oh, just somethin’ with a bit more bite. looked like you needed it.”
and for once, zoro doesn’t snipe back. instead, he stares at the tankard for a long second before drowning the entire thing in a few forceful gulps.
just then, luffy rounds the door into the kitchen and grins at the two men at the counter.
“whatcha talkin’ about?”
sanji jerks his head towards zoro, “just about zoro’s lost love.”
“she ain’t lost. we know exactly where she is.”
sanji opens his mouth but pauses as he realizes there are two things zoro could’ve denied and he’d only denied one.
luffy grins, “oh i know. i convinced him to let her go.”
sanji frowns, “wait what? weren’t you the first one that said we should ask her to join?”
luffy nods, still grinning, “sure! yeah, her singing’s the best i’ve heard, but if she’s not ready, we shouldn’t force her. she’ll find us though, someday. and she’ll just join the crew then!”
there’s a kind of childish, miraculous certainty with which luffy says things that always leaves strangers baffled. but his crew knows him better — they know that his blind trust only seems blind because he puts his trust in things that other people might not yet be able to see.
and he doesn’t strike out this time either, even though it’s years before any of them would meet you again.
though meet you, they do, but this time, it’s amidst canon-fire and wood dust and the incoherent shouts of retreating marines.
zoro sees you first, flying through the air on a thick length of rope, a small instrument strapped to your back, landing light on the deck like a ghost or a daydream. you’re different now, your limbs a bit longer, your hair a bit lighter, twisted back with a strand of golden ribbon so bright it might’ve stolen light from the sun itself.
“its — it’s you!” luffy is a bit breathless and there’s a dark soot smudge across his cheeks, but he’s smiling all the same.
“yeah, i heard you guys were looking for a musician?”
zoro wipes down the length of his swords, his eyes never leaving your form as he makes his way to you.
“so, guess you slept on it, huh?”
you turn towards him, and he’s once more held still by the look in your eyes. there’s a fierce, feral fire there that threatens to ignite everything it touches, and when you smile, zoro feels the burning inside him just as strong as before, as if he’s held a piece of you in his chest all these years and the proximity to you has finally set it ablaze.
“yep. i did. and here i am.”
luffy laughs and claps you on the shoulder as sanji lights up a post-fight cigarette, grinning toothily at you as he asks if you’d like anything to eat or drink. and soon, the rest of their growing crew joins you as you’re pulled away from zoro for what nami had termed a proper straw hat initiation.
he thinks he’d never appreciated music until you’re the one playing it — later that evening, he lets himself be carried on the moonlit tendrils of your voice as it dances over a soft melody of strings and the ever present lullaby of the drowsy sea.
and then, even later, when he finally gets you alone enough to press his mouth to yours, he thinks that your skin smells of a thousand untold stories, collected in the curve for your neck and the bend of your hips, arresting his senses like so many exotic perfumes from distant lands. he maps a constellation of wants and unsaid words into the long, sinuous expanses of your thighs and re-teaches himself the meaning of greed as he kisses a line up your stomach, back up to your lips to find you smiling.
“hey,” he says, reaching down to run a finger along the high of your cheeks. freckles. you didn't used to have them before.
“hey yourself, stranger,” you say, adjusting your body slightly so he can lay down next to you.
neither of you remark upon the lingering ghost of a night long past, the shapes of your bodies curled into almost identical shapes, the darkness wrapped around you like a promise that’s made to be broken.
“how’d you even find us?” zoro asks, letting his thumb trace absent circles into the soft of your kiss-bruised shoulder.
“weren’t you listening at dinner? i was ‘rescued’ from another pirate ship by the marines and —”
zoro scoffs, “i’ve hung around usopp long enough to know bullshit when i hear it.”
you quiet, though it’s not an unpleasant silence by any means.
“you wanna know the truth?” you ask, shifting to pillow your cheek against his chest.
he nods, “yeah, that’d be nice.”
you bite your lips, “i went looking for you. the morning after you left. but by the time i got to the docks, you guys were already gone.”
“hm.”
you let out a long sigh, “why’d you leave?”
you shift to look up at him; he glances down to meet your eyes. there’s no accusation in your voice, just a simple curiosity. and somehow, that stings more than zoro would ever admit.
“you… you didn’t seem like you were ready.”
he clears his throat and looks away, luffy’s words echoing back through the years.
“and… we knew that you’d find us eventually.”
when he looks down this time, your eyebrows are cocked and there’s an indulgent smile on your lips.
“well, guess you were right.”
you shift again to curl into his side and he adjusts slightly to slot his body more comfortably against yours. he remembers wondering how two bodies could be made separately and still fit so perfectly together like this. and here and now, he wonders how that might still be true after so many years.
he grounds himself in the rhythmic cycle of your breaths.
“zoro?”
your drowsy voice stirs him from the edges of his dreams and for a moment, he doesn’t remember when or where he is — if he’s back in the golden village lying in your tiny, warm bedroom, or if he’s on the going merry, with you tucked perfectly against his side.
“yeah?”
“will you be here in the morning?”
“mm. yeah. i will.”
the blankets rustle, the world around you shifts, like a camera with a mismatched lens, and for a second, just a single second, time bends back on itself, and zoro feels one moment superimposed over another. a fracture, a singularity, a temporary double-exposure.
and then, the film flickers and time unwinds itself, and he can hear the soft shushing of waves against the merry’s hull.
“do you promise?” you ask, curling your fingers against zoro’s chest as he turns towards you to pull you closer into him.
“yeah,” he says, his voice already thick with the syrup of sleep and dreams, even as he leans down to drop a kiss into your hair —
“i promise. ‘m not going anywhere.”
feed me opla!zoro reqs pls i beg
#dira333#one piece#one piece live action#opla zoro#opla roronoa zoro#roronoa zoro#roronoa zoro x reader#roronoa zoro x you#x reader#opla#one piece netflix#opla zoro x reader#one piece live action x you#one piece live action x reader#roronoa zoro fluff#one piece fluff#opla fluff#roronoa zoro imagines#roronoa zoro scenarios#floofy floof floof#perchance to dream#and for those of you who might be wondering#musicians were very popular on ships/pirate ships back in ye olden days#luffy canonically lists a musician as one of the crew members he wants#in the animanga so we are just out here#fulfilling his dreams u kno?
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Create another valyrian household that escaped Valyria. They hid themselves away by magic on an island not visible to anyone, they don't wish to be seen. On an island with a huge fortress accompanied with another smaller fortress which is basically a library. They are similar to Targaryens, but much more knowledgeable on everything (thanks to Valyria). They ride dragons, purple shades of eyes, silver-gold hair. Only two differences being, they have never been married outside of family(yuck) with no Westerosi blood therefore very different customs, fully valyrian customs and traditions rather than Westerosi+valyrian(Targs, Vels). Hope you have fun, thank you:)
𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐋𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀
꒰͡ ⠀ ִ 𝐺𝐸𝑁𝑇𝐿𝐸 𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐿𝑂𝑉𝐼𝑁𝐺 ⠀ׂ ⠀ ͡꒱
─ 𝘈 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤, 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𖤐
─ 𝘈 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𖤐
In the rich tapestry of Valyrian history, woven with the threads of power, magic, and dragonfire, the House Lyrielle stands as a testament to the enduring grace and wisdom of Old Valyria. Their story is a whisper on the wind, a secret melody sung by the waves that surround their hidden island sanctuary. Known to but a few, the Lyrielles are the guardians of a legacy untainted by the ambition and corruption that led to the Doom.
The sigil of House Lyrielle is as enigmatic as the house itself—an angelic dragon, graceful and serene, enwreathed in a ring of white roses against a backdrop of deepest emerald. The dragon, smaller in stature but fierce in its intelligence and agility, represents the nature of the Lyrielles' own dragons. The emerald ground symbolizes their secluded island, a jewel hidden in the vast sea, and the white roses signify the purity of their intentions and the mystical barriers that veil their home from the unwary eye.
Their words, "Beyond Sight, Within Light," speak to the heart of the House Lyrielle ethos. They live beyond the sight of the known world, in a realm of their own making, where knowledge and virtue shine brighter than any Valyrian steel. These words are a promise of their commitment to the greater good, a reminder of their hidden presence guiding the fate of the world from the shadows.
The Lyrielles, in their seclusion, have preserved the purity of their Valyrian bloodline, untouched by Westerosi influence. Their customs and traditions remain a living tapestry of Old Valyria's glory, a culture preserved in amber amidst the tumultuous seas of change.
Education and learning are held in the highest regard. The smaller fortress, known as the Lyceum of Light, houses a vast collection of scrolls and tomes, not only on magic and dragonlore but on the sciences, arts, and philosophies of the wider world. Even though the Lyrielles seclude themselves from the outside, they possess an insatiable thirst for knowledge that keeps their minds as sharp as their swords.
The Lyrielles are ethereal in their beauty, with eyes that hold the mysteries of the universe—shades of purple that shift with the light. Their silver-gold hair flows like liquid moonlight, a hallmark of their Valyrian bloodline. They are skilled in the art of healing, their touch capable of mending wounds that would confound even the most learned maesters. Their bond with their dragons is profound, rooted in a deep understanding and respect for these majestic creatures.
Their dragons, lithe and swift, mirror their masters in both appearance and temperament. With scales that catch the moon's light, casting reflections in hues of amethyst and sapphire, they are specters of the night sky, their presence felt rather than seen, their agility unmatched by any creature, mythical or otherwise.
To the Lyrielles, the world outside is a place of beauty marred by the scars of greed and violence. They see themselves as custodians of what remains pure and true. Their philosophy is one of balance and harmony, seeking to preserve the natural world and its wonders. They are benevolent, yet their kindness is not a weakness but a strength, fortified by their unwavering sense of justice and fairness.
The Lyrielles embody a paradox. They are both guardians and isolationists, wielding their power to protect the natural world and its untold secrets while shunning the very societies they seek to preserve from afar. Their personalities are marked by a gentle demeanor, an innate grace that belies the strength and wisdom that centuries of unbroken tradition have instilled in them. They are the custodians of healing, their knowledge of the arcane arts allowing them to mend wounds and cure maladies thought beyond the reach of mortal hands.
Yet, for all their power and knowledge, the Lyrielles possess a naivety born of their seclusion. They view the outside world through the lens of caution and fear, tales of its dangers passed down through generations. This isolation has fostered a deep sense of kinship and loyalty among them, their bonds unbreakable, their trust in one another absolute.
In a realm where the quest for power often leads to ruin, House Lyrielle remains a beacon of hope. They are the whisper in the heart of the storm, the unseen hand that guides towards light. Their existence is a testament to the belief that even in the darkest of times, there are those who shine brightly, not for glory or fame, but for the love of all that is good and true in the world.
My other original house:
House Celestyr
House Valysar
@fragileheartbeats . Don't plagiarise, repost, or translate any of my works on here or any other websites.
@emily2003alzaga @nash-dara @altaircc @heavenly1927 @omgsuperstarg @asoiafhyperfixation
#house lyrielle#house of the dragon#house targaryen#house of dragons#house of dragon oc#house of the dragon x reader#hotd fanfic#hotd oc#hotd x reader#a song of ice and fire#song of ice and fire#game of thrones x reader#game of thrones oc#game of thrones#aemond fanfiction#aemond one eye#aemond targaryen#aemond x reader#daemon targeryan#daemon targaryen x reader#writing#fantasy#novel#story#daemon x reader#aegon ii targaryen x reader#aegon x reader#aegon ii targaryen#aegon ii x reader#asoiaf
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Finding Home || Part Four
Azriel x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 3.5k
Warnings: homelessness
Summary: Azriel admits to Y/N that he doesn’t want to rush the tasks and he is shown a glimpse of her good faith.
Finding Home Masterlist
A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist
•••
For the second morning in a row, Azriel awoke on Y/N’s couch. His neck was positioned at a weird angle and his wings held a dull ache. But he couldn’t be happier. The scent from the kitchen wafted over to him as he opened his eyes. Quiet humming came from the kitchen that seemed to awaken his shadows, they rose around him before slithering their way into the kitchen. Despite his still tired disposition, Azriel followed.
What he was greeted to was the sight of Y/N spinning around her kitchen as she prepared a breakfast that could rival anything the House of Wind could create. Azriel couldn’t understand how she had the time for this, it was still early in the–
“Good morning, Azriel,” Y/N greeted. “Or should I say good afternoon? You have slept the whole day away.”
Azriel’s eyes widened. He was not sure when he had ever slept past six in the morning. Seven was considered a lie in for him. But as Azriel looked out of the large bay window, the sun was high in the sky. Despite it being winter, it looked pleasant outside.
“I’m making some lunch, if you want any,” Y/N said, serving some food onto a plate. “But for you, it would be considered breakfast?” Her teasing tone forced Azriel to send a playful glare her way.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” Azriel questioned as Y/N passed a plate of food to him.
Y/N shrugged. “You looked peaceful and I didn’t want to interrupt that.”
“I don’t normally sleep past seven,” Azriel stated.
“I could tell,” Y/N remarked. “Those bags under your eyes were clear of that.”
Y/N placed her plate down on the countertop. Azriel watched as she walked forward and gently placed her hands on his upper arms. At that simple touch, Azriel felt some of the tension in his body fade. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“Look,” Y/N said and spun him around to face a small mirror on her wall. “The bags are not completely gone, but they have faded. When was the last time you had a decent sleep?”
“Too long,” Azriel said, his gaze fixated on his reflection.
Before now, he had not realised how tired he was. If it were a typical day for him, he would wake and immediately begin training, not giving his body a chance to catch up to his exhaustion. He hadn’t felt this well-rested in a long time.
“If I knew how tired you were, I would have let you sleep in my bed, not on the couch, that could not have been comfortable for your wings,” Y/N said, sitting down at the small dining table in the bay window, perfectly fit for two people.
“I wouldn’t have allowed it,” Azriel said. “I am simply taking advantage of the situation I have found myself in.”
Y/N raised an eyebrow. “And what would that be?”
Azriel let out a quiet laugh. “Well I get free food for starters.”
“You’ll pay me back,” Y/N stated.
“And how would you want me to pay you back?” Azriel questioned.
Y/N shrugged. “I haven’t decided yet, but I’ll let you know when I do.”
Azriel raised the fork to his mouth and took a bit of the food. He hummed in appreciation, closing his eyes and appreciating the various flavours that burst into his mouth.
“What is this?” Azriel asked.
“Another recipe my father used to make me,” Y/N said. “I only make it on special occasions.”
“And this is a special occasion?” Azriel asked.
“Yes,” Y/N stated. “Because you have ticked another thing from the list.”
Azriel’s eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t think I have. We have only ticked off two? Coffee and dinner.”
Y/N sighed. “Honestly, Azriel, have you even read the list?”
In complete honesty, Azriel hadn’t. He had skimmed a couple of the tasks but hadn’t read beyond the first few properly.
Y/N took his silence as his answer. “Number twenty-six, lie in.”
“That is seriously a task,” Azriel asked.
Y/N held the list in her hand, Azriel having no idea where she had plucked it from. “Yes,” she said. “Have a look.”
Y/N thrust the list into Azriel’s hand and he focused on it. There it was, number twenty six. Something within Azriel was not too pleased. Three tasks down and it had barely been twenty four hours. Rhys had given him three months to complete all thirty tasks and if he continued to keep them up at the rate he was, he would have them done in not even two weeks. Too quickly for his liking.
From the meeting with Rhys to now, Azriel had changed his outlook on the tasks. He wanted to do them. And he was enjoying himself immensely. The height of elation he had reached over the past twenty-four hours had been higher than he had reached in the past five years. And one of the main reasons was the female sitting across the small circular table.
“Three down!” Y/N exclaimed.
Azriel forced a smile on his face, he hoped that it was convincing, but from the way Y/N’s face seemed to fall, it definitely wasn’t.
“What’s wrong?” Y/N asked, she placed her hand on the table and Azriel noticed her hesitation as she inched it closer. His hand rested not far from hers and he only wished that she would place it on top of his. The feeling of a caring touch was all Azriel craved.
But his wish did not come true as Y/N slowly inched her hand closer to herself and settled it back in her lap. Azriel couldn’t help the disappointment that washed over him.
“I just…think we are going through these tasks fast,” Azriel admitted.
“Isn’t that what you wanted?” Y/N asked. “You didn’t seem too thrilled when you were given them. I thought getting them done and out of the way would cheer you up a bit.” Azriel furrowed his eyebrows. “From the looks of things, it's doing the opposite.”
The words Azriel wanted to articulate were on the tip of his tongue but he couldn’t get them out. How do you tell someone you just met that you have had more fun with them in twenty-four hours than the past few years with your family? If she took those words the wrong way, then there was that slim possibility that he would scare her away and Azriel would be back where he started, wallowing in misery.
Instead Azriel opted for a simpler reason. “I enjoy spending time with you.”
Y/N’s face lit up and Azriel felt something within him stir. He was the one who had put that expression on her face.
“Well that is good, because I really enjoy spending time with you too,” Y/N replied.
There was something about that ‘really’ that brought out a wide smile on his face. Y/N seemed to mimic it as she leant her head on her hand.
“And I really enjoy when you smile like that,” Y/N said. “It suits you.”
Azriel continued to smile.
***
Despite the nippy weather, Y/N had suggested the two take a walk. After Azriel’s confession of wanting to slow down the tasks, they decided that the task ordering Azriel to take a walk, didn’t count. Their walk was just two friends spending time together, not completing mini missions.
Y/N was once again wrapped up in her coat, scarf and gloves. Azriel laughed at her as she piled them on before leaving the apartment. Y/N only glared at him before stepping out to face the cold.
The two walked side by side in silence, but Azriel felt no pressure to fill it. Simply being in Y/N’s presence was enough to keep him content. Any shop they passed, Y/N would sometimes point something out in the window she liked. There was something about that expression on her face that made Azriel want to immediately walk in and buy it, but he knew that Y/N would only march back in and return it in front of him.
“Oh,” Y/N said, her hand shooting out to stop Azriel in his tracks.
Azriel was immediately on alert. His shadows span out and scanned the area. “What is it?”
Y/N, noticing immediately his changed demeanour, rolled her eyes. “It is nothing bad, you oversized bat. I can just smell pastries.”
Azriel relaxed as he reeled his shadows back in. As he did so they gently caressed Y/N’s calves. If she noticed she didn’t say anything so Azriel didn’t mention it.
“Come on,” Y/N said, linking her arm through Azriel’s.
When the two made it to the bakery, Y/N went in while Azriel waited outside. It was packed and he didn’t want to crowd the space even more with his wings. And some of the questioning looks he was given made him refrain from even trying to enter.
As he leaned against the wall waiting for Y/N, he felt a tap against his mental shields. He sighed before lowering them.
I trust you have started on the tasks, Rhys questioned.
What would you do if I haven’t? Azriel questioned.
Nothing, I suppose, Rhys said. Despite what you might think, Azriel, these tasks are meant to help you. You haven’t been yourself in quite a while. We thought you could do something that wasn’t court related. Give you a break.
I was fine doing my duties, Azriel said.
Azriel heard Rhys sigh. Look, Az. All of us are worried about you. We just want to help.
Azriel didn’t respond for a while but he could tell that Rhys was still in his mind. He made sure that he didn’t accidentally reveal anything about Y/N. He didn’t want his family to know about her. At least not yet.
I have made a start on the tasks, Azriel replied.
Are you enjoying them? Rhys asked.
I–
Azriel stopped as Y/N walked out of the bakery and to Azriel.
I need to go, Azriel replied. I will talk to you later.I
With that, Azriel slammed his shields back up, blocking Rhys out. As Y/N approached him, he smiled at her in greeting.
“I know you said you didn’t want anything, but I bought you a few things anyway,” Y/N said, peering into the paper bag. “And I was thinking we can go back to my apartment and relax for a while. Of course it doesn’t need to be crossed off the list but it is quite cold out and the thought of sitting back and relaxing sounds nice.”
Azriel nodded. “I might need to go back to my apartment for a change of clothes.”
“Of course,” Y/N replied. “We can go there now, if you want. You can collect some other stuff as well if you want to spend the night again.”
Azriel’s expression softened. “I’d like that.”
Y/N linked her arm with his once again. “Then let’s go.”
As Azriel led her to his own apartment, he was hyper aware of her arm linked through his. Of course she had done it before but Azriel hadn’t even realised at that point something he had been lacking a lot in recent years. Physical touch. Every time Y/N reached out to him, all he wanted to do was link her arm through his, take her hand or just simply brush his fingers against hers.
As the pair closed in on Azriel’s apartment, he could feel his heart begin to race. What would Y/N think of his apartment? There was not anything embarrassing in there, in fact it was very bare. No personal decoration other than a painting Feyre had gifted him several years ago and a few things he had picked up over the centuries he had been alive. Nothing screamed home about his apartment.
“Do you want me to wait out here?” Y/N asked.
“And let you freeze to death?” Azriel teased as he fished the unused key from his pocket.
As they stepped inside, even Azriel was surprised at how bare everything looked. For two nights he had been used to Y/N’s apartment and her cosy decorations and furniture. He was too bland for his liking. Even the curtains were firmly shut.
“I will only be a second,” Azriel said and entered his bedroom.
His bedroom was not any better. The bed was still unmade from the last time he had used it, the only indicator of someone living here. He quickly fished for a small bag under his bed and shoved some clothes within it. He gave his bedroom one final look before exiting. When he entered the living area, he found it now filled with light.
“There,” Y/N said. “Now it doesn’t feel so cold here.”
She stood by the curtains and the soft light shining from behind her made her look ethereal. Even her just standing within his bare apartment made it feel more like a home.
“Ready to go?” Y/N asked, interrupting Azriel from his thoughts.
“Oh,” Azriel said. He raised the small bag he was holding. “Yes I am.”
“Then let's go,” Y/N said.
They stepped back out into the cold and Y/N immediately inked her arm with his and pulled him away in the opposite direction they had come in. “Let’s walk by the river, it's a nicer route.”
Azriel allowed her to guide him without argument.
As they walked by the river the wind seemed to pick up and a drizzle of rain began to fall. It was cold but Azriel could handle it with ease, but Y/N was shivering and it was beginning to shake Azriel’s arm. Azriel extended his wing like he had the night they met to try and block out some of the cold but it seemed useless as the rain was coming in from the wrong direction.
“I’m okay,” Y/N said. “But perhaps coming this way was a mistake.”
Azriel laughed quietly and pulled Y/N closer to his side. “Perhaps it was.”
As the two walked next to the river, a faint voice called; “Anything will help.”
Y/N stopped in her tracks and turned to the source of the voice. An older fae woman and a child were huddled in a small gap between two buildings, the blanket covering them was covered in holes and did nothing to protect them from the cold. Azriel tried to reach out to Y/N as she stepped away from him, still shivering.
“Can I help you?” Y/N asked, crouching down next to the woman and child.
The child was shivering in the older fae’s lap, lips blue.
“Any spare change would help us or any food you have to offer,” the older fae woman said weakly.
“Of course!” Y/N said and immediately offered the bag full of pastries. “Take them all, you need them more than me.”
“I couldn’t possibly take them all,” the older fae said. “This is simply too much.”
Y/N’s expression softened. “Of course you can. Please, I insist.”
The fae woman took the bag with hesitation as if she were afraid Y/N would take back her offer and walk away. The fae took the bag with shaking hands. Azriel looked from the fae to the child in her lap, looking close to death. His heart dropped.
“I don’t have much more to offer than the clothes on my back, so…” Y/N unwrapped the scarf from her neck and wrapped it around the fae woman’s. She then proceeded to take her gloves off and place them by the child. Finally she shrugged her thick warm coat off and draped it over the child.
“I can’t allow you to give us your clothes!” the fae exclaimed.
Y/N gently grasped the fae’s shivering hands. “Of course you can, this blanket is not doing much in keeping your from the cold.”
“But–”
“Please, take it,” Y/N said and let go of the woman’s hands.
As she stood back up, Azriel could tell how much she was fighting the urge to shiver in front of the woman and child. The rain had began to come down heavier and The exposed alley did nothing to shield the two from it.
Without thinking, Azriel fished his key out of his pocket. “Here,” he offered. “It is a key to an apartment around the corner. Stay there as long as you wish. I can drop by and bring some food for you in the morning.”
The older fae finally looked up to Azriel and her eyes widened, realising who he was. She looked down at her lap. “I couldn’t possibly take you up on that offer.”
“You can and you will,” Azriel said firmly. “This rain might be the beginning of a storm and I do not want the two of you out here, especially when your child is as sick as he is.”
“My grandchild,” the older fae corrected. “My daughter passed away recently.”
“More of a reason for you to get your grandson to safety,” Azriel said and placed the key on the ground next to the woman. “I am leaving my key here. If you decide not to go, that is your decision but I would highly suggest it. The rain will only get heavier from here.”
The older fae bowed her head. “Thank you both for your great kindness. Not many others have even offered us a passing glance.”
Y/N stepped forward. “I hope the two of you will stay safe.”
“We will, thanks to your kindness,” the older fae said.
Azriel and Y/N both nodded before stepping away from the woman. As they walked further down the street, Azriel turned and saw the woman walking down the street, the child wearing Y/N’s coat.
“L-l-let’s get back to m-my apartment,” Y/N said, shivering a lot now.
Azriel’s eyes widened as he noticed the long dress she wore had soaked through and was clinging to her body. His hands immediately found themselves on her upper arms and rubbed them, trying to keep her warm.
Y/N tilted her head to look up at him and smiled. “If you were trying to keep me warm, the first thing you would ask me to do is take off my clothes. These wet ones are only making me colder.”
Azriel blushed as she tried to avoid eye contact with her, but his eyes seemed to feel a magnetic pull toward hers. He couldn’t look away.
“Now is not the time for jokes,” Azriel said.
“But I love making you flustered, you look cute,” Y/N teased.
Azriel’s blush only deepened.
The street was now empty and the only sound was the rain hitting the cobblestone street. Y/N shivered so much that Azriel pulled her body closer to his. “Do you trust me?” his voice was soft and quiet. He hadn’t intended it to come out that way.
“What?”
“Do you trust me?” Azriel asked again, his grip tightening on her waist.
“Of course I do,” Y/N replied, not a hint of teasing in her tone.
Azriel trailed his hands slowly down her arms, before they came to her hands. There was a part of him that wanted to pull away but he forced himself to rid that thought from his mind. He lifted them so her arms were wrapped around his neck. Y/N’s breath hitched. Their position was quite intimate, Azriel would admit. But he couldn’t pull away.
With one quick swoop, Azriel lifted Y/N into his arms and her grip tightened on him. “I will ask again, do you trust me”?
“Yes,” Y/N said, her voice slightly breathless. “Azriel, I trust you.”
A small smile toyed on Azriel’s lips. “Good.”
It was all he said before shooting into the air.
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#acotar x reader#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#azriel x reader#azriel acotar#azriel shadowsinger#azriel#azriel fluff
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Text
Caretaker
Pairing: Azriel x reader
Summary: Reader is sick & Az being the best bf ever
Warnings: slight suggestiveness, tooth rotting fluff
A/N: Literally wrote this when I was sick asf and high on cough medicine so I hope this makes sense 😭😭
2.2k words
My body tremors as another weak cough racks through me, my throat pulsing at the feeling. Watery eyes form tears, sliding down the bridge of my nose and dripping onto the plush pillow beneath my head.
I stare out the floor to ceiling window, marveling at the way the sidra morphs starlight into rainbow refractions. I sniffle, one of my nostrils completely closed off and making it a challenge to breathe. It was late. I didn't know the exact time but from the moons position in the sky I could guess it was far past midnight.
My mate hadn't come to bed and I debated clambering out of this all too hot bed to go and find him, wrap my arms around his waist and guide him back to our bed. But I can't expose him to whatever virus plagued me, in turn getting him sick, no matter how badly I missed his touch. It was already a risk to share the same bed, I couldn't push it.
Madja stopped by earlier and gave me a tonic to help ward off the cough but there was nothing she could do beyond that. I took the tonic minutes ago, the effects still settling in, I just hoped the cough would cease long enough for me to be able to fall asleep.
It's been days, my mate was convinced I was getting worse. He surveyed me like usual, but his gaze turned soft and pitiful every time a raucous cough came over me. Shadows kept me company, swirling fluidly against my back in a reassuring manner, the chill touch of them making me cool off from my heated state.
There was a soft knock at the door and I didn't have to look to know who it was. I adjusted under the covers, using my strength to sit up and lean against the headboard, teary eyed but making eye contact with the large winged male in the doorway. "Az." My voice was practically a whimper, a feeble excuse at calling for him.
"My love," He drew a long exhale, my sickness seemingly weighing on him as well.
"You can't be in here." I murmur, wiping my tears and wishing it was his hands instead of mine doing the act.
"I miss you." He offers me a soft smile as he tilts his head against the frame of the door, his silhouette from the hallway light made him look like some sort of angel.
"I don't want to get you sick." I shake my head, holding my arm out as if to shield him away but we both knew I held no power at the moment.
"It wouldn't be so bad," He tries to lighten the mood with a shrug. "I'd be off work, we could quarantine together. We'd read and cuddle and I could actually go within a ten feet radius of you." His words were convincing, and the idea has a smile tugging at my lips. That is until a croak of a cough rattles my body and I remember how irritating this illness is. I wouldn't want him to have this, ten foot radius or not.
"It's hard enough to stay away from you, don't tempt me." I sigh, allowing my bones to sink into the large matress.
"Worth a try." He mirrors my smile. "Do you need anything? Tea or soup?" He asks and I twist my lips to the side as I ponder what he could give me that would ever amount to how badly I want him and him alone. "A good book perhaps?" He arches a perfect brow. It pains me how well he knows me.
"A book would be nice." I hum and he pushes from the doorway, excited to accomplish a new task. His gaze lingers on me before he closes the door and his silent footsteps recede down the hall.
I look back out the window while I wait, fiddling with the mating ring around my fourth finger. My cough seemed to have settled, I'll have to tell my brother to increase Madja's salary for her admirable work — or maybe I'd pay her directly myself. As soon as I'm better I will, whenever that might be. I release a long sigh and allow my eyes to shut for a moment, I must've slept for half the day earlier but that didn't stop the rest from weighing at my heavy lids.
Before I dared slip into a sleep the spymaster opened the door with a multitude of items in his hands. I couldn't help but smile. The night courts intimidating Shadowsinger was at my door, with soup and tea and a book, taking care of me. He had one of the world's deadliest knife's at his thigh and he probably used it to cut open my tea bag.
"Az, I'm gonna cry." I warn. My already watery eyes verging on tears as I think about how much he does for me.
"No don't cry." His brows crease as he sits on his side of our bed, placing a bowl of soup down on my nightstand. "I tried to follow your mom's recipe but it won't be as good." He frowns and there's nothing more I want to do then kiss the pout off his perfect face. "And this is hot, so don't drink it for a few minutes." He places a steaming cup of tea beside the soup. "And this," He holds up a worn paper back book. "I went to Nesta and asked her for the best romance novel she could think of and she gave me this so." He places it on my lap. "Hopefully it's as smutty as you hope." He mutters beneath his breath and I flush hot but blamed it on my fever.
"Thank you." My voice was a rasp, he looked to my eyes. Hazel laced with love and admiration, the emotions reflecting on the golds and greens of his irises.
"Get some rest after eating, you have to get your strength up so I can get my sparring buddy back." He placed a hand on my forehead to check my temperature, something on his expression falls when he doesn't notice any difference from the last time he checked my temperature.
"Is Cassian not good enough anymore?" I scoff.
"He's not you." He huffs and an upside down smile spreads over my expression.
"I know you're sick but I really want to kiss you." He admits and just the idea makes me feel warmer inside. I grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him into me, his upper half hovering over me as I plant my lips onto his. I grin against the sensation, it's only been a few days but gods, how did I forget how perfect it felt to have his mouth against mine?
He pulls back first and I debate chasing him back but he pecks my forehead and I settle for it, leaning back onto my headboard yet again. "I'm going to finish up an assignment then I'll come to bed, okay?" He gets up from the bed and my eyes follow.
"Mhm." I nod tiredly.
"If I find you reading that book when I get back I'm taking it away." He warns and I bite my bottom lip mischievously.
"Goodnight lovely." A shadow tucks a strand of hair behind my ear as I watch him make his way to the door.
"Night Az." I muse in reply, already reaching for my bowl of the nostalgic meal.
—
About an hour later I had finished my entire bowl of soup and cup of tea. Both of them reminding me of my mother humming her favorite songs as she sewed her dresses, of Rhys teaching me how to fly before I could even walk, of Cassian brawling with my brother when he first moved in, and of Azriel's warm embrace.
I was curled into a ball with a mage light over my head, flipping through the pages of the romance novel Nesta lent me. It was a fantasy with just the right amount of erotica, the kind that would make any female flush. There were a few times when I'd have to close the book and take a breather before opening it back up, which meant it was perfection.
The door opened with a creak and I slammed the book shut the way a teenage boy might with a nude magazine. Azriel crinkles his brows at me and I look at him guiltlessly. "Evening handsome." I greet and he blinks at me like I'm crazy.
"Why are you being weird?" He utters, coming further into the room and closing the door behind him. I fold my lips inward to keep myself from laughing or possibly exposing that I was reading absolute filth just moments ago.
"Just reading." I shrug innocently and he narrowed his gaze in on me but seemed to let it go when striding over to the armoire to change. I watched him shamelessly as he stripped off his shirt, golden tan skin inked in swirling black. He shuffles through the drawers, giving me a full show of his muscular back and those large wings. My breath hitched as I stare without caution and a small chuckle sounds from him. He knows I'm watching, and at this point I can't find it in myself to care.
"Are you flexing on purpose?" I ask him as he discards his leathers for a pair of lounge pants.
"I'm not flexing love." He confesses and my stomach does backflips. Cords of muscle rippled from his shoulders down to his bulging arms, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't at least a little turned on. And he was just standing there. He turns to look at my tinged cheeks and it only makes me blush more. The eye contact just might kill me. The nonchalance and causality of it made my stomach churn, as if he wasn't standing there in front of me shirtless.
"You're teasing." I set my book on the nightstand and sink down into my pillows.
"How so?" His question is half a laugh because he knows what he's doing.
"I can't have you right now." I whine like some sort of child, pulling the blankets up and over my head so I don't have to look at his chest that seemed to be sculpted by the gods themselves. The bed sinks and I know he's now beside me. I can't help but gravitate towards him only to stop myself because I know cuddling would get him sick.
His strong arm wraps around my waist and pulls my back to his chest.
"No, Az I don't want to get you sick." I protest, pulling away with the weakest strength since the predicament at hand wasn't all too bad.
"I already told you I don't care if I get sick." He brings me in closer and who was I to deny my mate's embrace?
It was nice to lay beside him, nice to have his warmth radiating onto me. I missed him even if it's only been a few days, even if he still sleeps beside me every night. I missed the physicality of it. Azriel's never been one for touch but sometimes I go through phases where if I don't have my hands constantly on him I'd collapse.
So I allowed myself to lean into his chest, matching my breathing to his and intertwining my hand with his scarred one. "I love you." He hums into my shoulder, placing gentle kisses to the crook of my neck and a soft smile spreads across my lips.
"Would you still love me if—" I begin but he doesn't let me finish,
"Yes." His tone is confident and didn't waver for a beat.
"You don't even know what I was going to say." I pout and I feel him shake his head against me.
"As long as you're still you, I love you." He professes and I flip around to look at his golden eyes that the stars themselves were outmatched against.
"I love you too." My voice is a mere whisper but a wide grin takes over his face, revealing his dimples. His smile was so bright I thought for a moment that sun wouldn't rise in fear of rivaling it. "And I'm totally getting you sick." I threaten but he doesn't seem to mind, especially not when I lean forward a few inches in order to kiss that grin.
"Sleep, love." He coerced and pulls me into his chest, his wing draping over me like a blanket, blocking out any seeping light from the moon outside. "I'll be here in the morning." He muses, smoothing a scarred hand over my hair. He continues to play with the strands until I'm drifting off into that touch, his warmth inviting me to sleep.
Azriel was quick to follow, once he noticed my breathing even out. Shadows settle around us as his lids grow heavy and his weight falls into the bed. With me in his arms it was easier for him to sleep, the comfort of knowing I'm safe while in his hold pushed him further into that sweet relief of rest.
#azriel#sarah j maas#acotar#azriel x reader#azriel x you#x reader#acomaf#fanfic#comfort fic#sickfic#im so lonely#i need him#suriels tea
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