#max the resident smut

[detachedminxsfics]

Caught In The Act

Masterlist

Characters: Max x F!Reader

Summary: When your landlord Max offers to do you a favour you come home to a pleasant surprise when you get off work early

Word count: 3.3K

Warnings: NSFW - Voyeurism, brief handjob, oral (m recieving), vaginal sex, creampie, riding, praise, dirty talk, soft dom/switch max bc he's a cutie

A/N: This is just what we all wanted to do during the bathtub scene. Enjoy :)

The alarm on your bedside table blared restlessly as you attempted to pry your eyes open, rolling over to stretch your arm and aimlessly fumble for it until you felt it beneath your palm and slammed your hand down on top, silencing it. With a huff you managed to haul yourself out of bed to get ready for work, making sure you had everything you needed in your bag and slipping your shoes on when you heard a knock at the door, which you hurried to open when you got your other shoe on. It was your landlord and next-door neighbour Max whom you'd grown rather close with over the past few months of living in the building. He'd been a good friend to you when you needed him most and you'd spent plenty of nights since you moved in getting takeout and watching movies together or even him cooking for you, which he often insisted on doing when you'd had a particularly stressful work week. His eyes lit up a little when the door opened to reveal you, a small smile on his lips before he started to speak.

"Hey, I know it's early but I was thinking about that leak in the kitchen you told me about and was wondering if I can take a look at it for you, and fix it up if I can?"

Max was wearing a navy blue t-shirt with some slightly baggy charcoal grey work jeans, which you could tell from the way they were splattered with various shades of paint. He'd been wearing them when you first came to view the apartment, the moment when the man practically changed your life by offering you the place.

"Sure, but I've gotta go to work. Last minute shift change." You sighed as you stepped away from the door to grab your bag from the small glass table in your hallway, which prompted Max to enter the apartment.

"Well I can fix it up while you're at work and lock up when I'm done, I've got a key." He suggested, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he watched you make a last minute check of the items in your bag.

"Really? That would be great, thank you."

As you made way for the door you stopped to lean in and plant a quick peck on Max's cheek, the stubble of his salt and pepper beard slightly scratching against your lips when you did. His eyes were closed when you pulled back until they fluttered open to look back into yours, a smile creeping onto his lips again as you continued towards the door.

"I'll see you later, Max." You said as you grasped the door handle.

"Have a good day at work." He simply replied with a polite nod of his head, watching as you closed the door and listening to your footsteps get further and further down the hall.

He was just thankful that the way his hands were shoved into the pockets of his jeans concealed the way they started to shake when he felt your lips against his skin.

Since you came in last minute on what was technically supposed to be your day off you managed to convince your boss to let you leave early when things got quiet, a sigh of relief leaving your lips as you rode the elevator up to the floor of your apartment and headed down the hall once the doors opened. You tested the handle of your door to see whether it was locked only to find that it wasn't, the door swaying open meaning Max must have not locked up since he hadn't finished up in the kitchen yet, not that it bothered you that he was still inside. You stepped in and quietly closed the door, kicking your shoes off and starting to make your way to the kitchen when you heard it, stopping in your tracks the moment the sound reached your ears. Groaning. You followed the sound down the hall and into your bedroom, but when you peered into your bedroom there was nothing there until you turned and stole a glance through the doorway of your en suite bathroom and finally identified the source of the sound. Max was lying down in the bathtub, his head resting back on the porcelain rim and his hand buried beneath his jeans. Low, raspy groans fell from his throat whilst his hips bucked up slightly with every stroke of his hand, his chest rising and falling as his breaths started to get heavier and faster. It was hard to believe what you were seeing, but you couldn't possibly bring yourself to look away. The way his eyes were screwed shut and a stray strand of hair curled against his forehead, the way his lips parted to let out the soft grunts that were progressively turning into more desperate, drawn-out pleas, the way the veins decorating his hands bulged as he shamelessly tried to bring himself to his release in your bathtub. You couldn't get enough of it. Sure you had treated one another as friends these past few months, but you could never shake the suspicion that Max harboured feelings towards you that made him wish you were a little more than just friends. You'd held off on the idea of developing feelings for him in the worry that if things didn't work out between you two you'd be stuck living in the same building and having an ex as your landlord. It wasn't practical, but with the way the man was touching himself before your very eyes you weren't sure you could keep up with doing the right thing, the smart thing.

"Max?"

Your voice made his eyes shoot open before he sat up, cursing under his breath and awkwardly trying to tuck himself back into his pants, his eyes darting between you and his hands fumbling with the open fly of his jeans.

"Hey you're, you're back earlier than I thought you'd be." He stated breathlessly with a nervous smile, but there was no way for him to cover up what he was doing.

"Clearly." You teased as you started towards the tub causing him to glance up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of worry and surprise.

Wordlessly you leaned down and started to palm the clothed bulge straining against his jeans, his hips jolting up at the contact and his hand gently closing around the wrist of the hand you were using to touch him.

"What are you doing?" He asked, seemingly more taken aback by how forward you were being rather than opposed to the idea.

You only hushed him and slid your hand over his groin until you reached the fly of his jeans, carefully undoing the sloppily half-up zipper and delving your fingers beneath the denim and the waistband of his boxers until you felt your fingertips graze over his shaft. His skin was hot to the touch and he hissed through his teeth as you gave it a small squeeze, the reaction making you bite your lip at how sensitive he seemed to be. Wanting more of him you started to tug down his jeans and boxers prompting Max to lift his hips to help you slide it down easier, his cock springing free once he did, and what a treat that was. Max was big with just the right amount of thickness, his tip swollen and glistening with pre-cum practically aching to be touched aside from his already desperate, strained anticipatory breaths. You lightly ran your thumb over the tip to gather the stickiness, a contented moan escaping his lips as you circled it before lifting your thumb to your mouth and sucking it clean with a pleased hum. Then you leaned back over the tub once again, bracing your hand on the edge of the bath whilst you wrapped your other hand around the base of his cock and started to stroke, his mouth falling open at the sensation as a bunch of throaty moans followed. Still working him with your hand you turned your head to the side to press your lips against his, his lips moving back against yours instantly and his tongue lightly sweeping over yours. After a moment you broke the fervent kiss, parting your lips just enough that they were still barely grazing against his.

"You're so noisy." You playfully remarked with a small giggle, your comment making his brows bounce up.

"Do you want me to be quieter? I can be quieter." He pleaded against your lips clearly flustered, which only made you shake your head and smile.

"I never said it was a bad thing. Besides, what's the worst that could happen, someone puts in a noise complaint?" You whispered against his lips, brushing your lips over his teasingly.

You brought your mouth against his again, his hand reaching up to comb his fingers through your hair and deepen the kiss. You continued to enjoy his mouth some more, even pulling back slightly to lightly nip at his bottom lip before kissing over it and then leaning back up again, unwrapping your hand from his shaft.

"Sit up." You ordered, to which he complied and leaned up until he was sitting in the bath.

You swung your leg over and climbed in, lowering down into the space at the bottom of the tub and laying down on your stomach, your head hovering over his lap.

"I wanna taste you."

You wrapped your hand around the base of his cock and swept your tongue over his swollen tip, the warm wetness of your tongue making his hips bounce up at the feeling and a grunt rumble from his throat. Then you licked a stripe from the base to the tip, your tongue running over the vein bulging in his shaft and swirling over the head once you reached it again, the salty taste of pre cum coating your tongue.

"Please." Max begged as you ran your tongue over him, his hands trembling at his sides as it took everything in him not to coax it past your lips, and he practically looked like he was about to explode any minute.

Removing your hand you kept your eyes on his, slowly sliding him past your lips and into your mouth, taking his cock as far down as your throat would allow.

"Shit. Oh, baby." He moaned out, slipping his fingers into your hair and caressing the strands as you bobbed your head.

You loved how vocal he was, the way he threw his head back when you enthusiastically moaned around him, and how responsive he was from even the smallest of touches.

"Your throat feels even better than I imagined." He rasped, the flattery making you drag your lips up his cock sucking a bit harder as you did, before sliding your mouth all the way back down on him.

You didn't mind that Max had imagined this before. Truthfully, you'd indulged in a fantasy or two involving him once or twice when you first moved in, you'd just never entertained the idea of it after that. Oh, how wrong you were. He started to grow restless, the hand stroking your hair stopping to gather some in his hand as he started lifting his hips in time with your mouth, chasing his release with his heavy lidded chocolate brown eyes fixed on yours.

"Sweetheart, I-I'm gonna-" He drawled, cut off by the way his orgasm seemed to hit him and his cock twitched in your mouth, his hips stuttering as his whole body shuddered.

You moved your mouth off of him just enough to be able to swallow, warm ropes of his release filling your mouth and coating your tongue, lightly sucking him through it and milking his cock until he seemed to be empty and softened a bit in your mouth. Carefully you slipped him from your mouth and swallowed it down, some beads of cum still having escaped from your lips trailing down his cock which you leaned down to lick off.

"You are perfect." Max added breathlessly while reaching out to caress the side of your face, his thumb tenderly stroking over your cheek.

You leaned into the touch with a smile, his hand still on your face as you crawled over him until you were hovering over his lap and then sat down, his semi-hard erection resting against your clothed crotch. His free hand reached up to start stroking over your thigh, caressing it as he went and then moving to take hold of your hip. He used the hold on your face to crash his lips against yours, the grip he had on your hip growing firmer as you moved your lips against his, and his hips subconsciously rocked beneath you in search of friction.

"You wanna fuck me?" You whispered in between kisses, to which he pulled back just enough to breathe his sentiment into your mouth.

"More than anything." Max murmured eagerly, and you smiled against his lips before leaning back to take hold of the hem of your top, crossing your arms and lifting it over your head.

He did the same, throwing his navy blue tee over his head and tossing it onto the floor beside your tub, a pile of clothes starting to form as you reached down to get your pants off, sitting up enough that you could push them past your thighs and roll them down to your ankles. You kicked them off once you got them down your legs then turned and reached behind you to help Max get his boxers and pants off from where they had gathered at his calves, throwing them to join the heap of clothes now on the floor. He took hold of your hips again, and you hovered over him just enough to feel the way he was hard and ready against your inner thigh. You reached down to guide him to your entrance and then began slowly lowering yourself down onto him, the stretch around him making a pained moan fall from your mouth.

"Mm, Max." His name rolled off your tongue so wantonly, every inch of him gradually filling you.

He pressed his lips against yours to muffle your cries, one of his hands coming up to cup one side of your face again, his other still resting over your hip.

"It's okay, it's okay." He cooed between kisses as you tried to adjust to the feel of him, and soon your ass was pressed against his thighs as you took him to the hilt.

Letting go of your face he took hold of your other hip and moved slightly, the first lift of his hips enough to make his mouth fall open and a husky groan follow suit, mirroring him as a needy whine spills from yours. Bracing your hands on his shoulders you started to roll your hips, creating a slow, rhythmic bounce that Max aided with his grip on you. You moved your hand to his chest, caressing your way up to his shoulders and then to the nape of his neck, slipping your fingers into his thick brown locks as you leaned forward and started pressing kisses on his neck, languidly working your way down to his collarbone and the generous curls of hair sparsely adorning his chest. Your other hand smoothed over the top of his arm, running your fingers over one of the many tattoos his body was littered with and lightly squeezing his bicep which made him hum appreciatively. With time you began picking up the pace, sliding all the way up and then coming down on him hard, the wet slapping sound of skin on skin echoing throughout the bathroom as your ass smacked against his thighs. His hands moved to your ass cupping it firmly as you bounced on him, caressing it as he rocked his hips in time with your movements.

"Good girl, god you're so tight." He praised, moaning out as your walls massaged his cock.

Your knees started to ache, feeling bruised from the way you'd been kneeling on the small space of porcelain on either side of him. You slowed your movements to mumble through your strained breaths.

"My legs are gonna give out." You whispered with a giggle.

Max seemed to get the idea, repeatedly pressing his lips against yours as he gripped your thighs and leaned forward, gently laying you down on your back and hovering over you, your legs draped over his hips. He didn't waste any time in moving again, thrusting his hips as he fucked into you deeply and his mouth found its way to your jaw, kissing along it and allowing his beard scruff to scratch against your skin. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your hands resting on the nape of his neck and playing with the curls of hair above it. His lips trailed kisses along the side of your neck, then over your throat and down to your collarbone, affectionately marking you in whatever way he could. Eventually, the pressure in your abdomen started to build and you wrapped your legs around his waist, locking your legs at all the right times to try and spur him to go deeper. He listened to your wordless request, burying his cock into you and pumping into you with hard, bottomless thrusts.

"Max, Max I-" His name tumbles from your mouth in the form of a plea, repeating his name over and over again amidst a string of curses.

"I've got you, it's okay baby." He hushes you, coaxing you to your orgasm with soft reassurances and it's more than enough to tip you over the edge.

You cling to him as you let out an unrestrained, sweet cry, your whole body trembling beneath him as he holds you and fucks you through it. With his eyes fixed on you and wholly focused on your expression he succumbs to his release too, his hips stuttering and guttural groans spewing from his throat. He spills into you, filling you with his warm release and then lightly collapsing on top of you, careful not to put too much weight on you. He collects himself for a moment before propping himself up on his elbows and reaching up to stroke your cheek.

"Are you okay? I didn't hurt you, right? I wasn't too rough?"

Before the endless list of paranoid possibilities he was babbling continued you silenced him with your lips, pressing them against his and kissing him softly. After a moment of just basking in the feel of him you broke the kiss, cupping his face and resting your forehead against his.

"I love you, Max. I should've said this sooner, but I love you."

His eyes widened a little, a smile of genuine, unbridled happiness playing on his lips. He couldn't believe you had finally said those three little words that he'd only ever dreamed about hearing.

"I love you too, so much."

Your lips met again, your arms wrapping around his waist as you embraced him. You stayed like that for a little while, the once cold porcelain beneath your back now warm from your skin, and Max's hands were all over you like he wasn't sure he'd ever let you go. Eventually, he broke the kiss, his nose still brushing against yours as he spoke.

"Why don't I draw you a bath, make us some dinner and then we can watch a movie, hm?"

He suggested, nuzzling his nose against yours and making you laugh.

"Okay okay, but only if you'll get in the bath with me, and one with actual water this time."

Max snorted his laughter and swept a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Deal."

#jeffrey dean morgan #jeffrey dean morgan smut #jeffrey dean morgan x reader #jeffrey dean morgan x you #max the resident #the resident #max the resident smut

[lanadelnegan]

JDM Masterlist

*I write for any jdm character and jdm himself.

Warnings: all 18+ and contain smut. minors DNI. will update as I post.

Negan Smith

Oneshots:

Video Games - you give Negan head while he plays video games.

Knock Knock - DeadCity!Negan fucks you while Maggie is gone on a run.

Our Little Cabin - Cowboy era Negan takes your virginity.

My Girl - Rick's oldest daughter, y/n, loses her virginity to Negan.

Pretty in Pink - hyperfem reader / negan can't resist you in your little pink skirt.

You Belong to Me - Negan x Male Reader

Vampire - Negan eats you out while you're on your period

Keep Me Warm - Public sex with Negan on a bench in Alexandria

Two In One - Negan x Reader x Simon threesome

Cherry - Negan ‘pops your cherry’

The Notebook - movie night with Negan (fluff)

Multi-chapter:

Lip Gloss - Prisoner!Negan falls for a girl at Alexandria. (complete)

My Past, My Future - Negan x reader x Daryl / love triangle (complete)

Crush - gym teacher negan x student reader (complete)

Tattoo - Teacher!Negan gives his student a tattoo. (in progress)

Ghost - Negan x Glenn'sSister!Reader (complete)

Jeffrey Dean Morgan

Oneshots:

Wildest Dreams - Your celeb crush makes your dreams come true when you meet him at a bar after the walking dead comic con.

Jealousy, Jealousy - your boyfriend, Jeffrey, can't control his jealousy when he sees another man hit on you at the bar.

Love at First Sight - you ask Jeffrey a question at a walking dead panel that leads to the memory of a lifetime.

Multi-chapter:

One Night Stand - Denny Duquette era Jeffrey has a one night stand with his costar. (in progress)

Denny Duquette

Oneshots:

Cardiac Arrest - You give your favorite patient special treatment

#jeffrey dean morgan #negan #jdmorgan #jdm x reader #negan fanfiction #twd negan #jdm fanfiction #jdmfanfiction #jeffrey dean morgan x reader #negan smith #negan smith x reader #negan smith x you #negan x you #negan x reader #jdm x you #jeffrey dean morgan fanfiction #jdmorgan fanfiction #jdm masterlist #negan masterlist #jdm oneshot #negan oneshot #negan smut #jdm smut #jeffrey dean morgan masterlist #denny duquette #denny greys anatomy #jeffrey dean morgan fanfic #ray lasalle #max the resident #clay the losers

[highlifeboat]

(*Slams hands on desk* This is SMUT. This is PORN WITHOUT A PLOT. This is 18+ ONLY/NOT FOR CHILDREN.

This is.... Probably not great but I had to purge this from my body.

This is a Daximus Smut Fic)

----------

“I want to lead this time.”

The request was simple, spoken just above a whisper while their foreheads were pressed together. Max’s hands laid on Daniela’s hips as the woman straddled him, hers cupping his face and gently stroking his cheeks with her thumbs.

“Are you sure you know how?” He teased, laughing a little when she pouted at him.

“Of course I do.” She huffed. One of her hands moved to the back of Max’s head, tracing small circles in his hair. “Please? I want to make you feel special….” Daniela smiled, their lips inches apart. “No toys, or ropes, or collars, just hands, and mouths, and us….” As if to emphasize the point, she gave him a soft kiss. “What do you say, dragule?”

Max gave a quiet hum, but it was clear he hadn’t needed much convincing. “As if I could say no to you…” He smiled, touching their noses together. “Lead on, iubirea mea. I’m yours.”

He leaned in to give her another kiss, but Daniela pulled back, moving off of him and the bed completely to undo the ties of her dress and allow it to slip to the floor. It took Max a moment but he soon followed suit from the bed. Shirt and pants tossed haphazardly to the side, he grabbed the waistband of his boxers only for Daniela to stop him. She straddled him again, gently pulling his hands away from the only thing left covering him, and pushing his back against the headboard. There was a moment of silence as one looked down on the other, simply basking in the sight of one another as Daniela brought his hand up and kissed the palm.

“Beautiful boy…” She hummed. “Touch me….”

Max stared at her in awe, giving a quiet nod as Daniela guided his hand. With another kiss she took his other hand and placed it on her thigh, leading it up to her hips and allowing it to rest there as she brought the other down her neckline  to her bare chest. Max’s fingers twitched against soft skin as Daniela set his hands free, allowing him to palm at her breasts and explore her body. She leaned over him, taking him in another loving kiss. The hand resting on her hips snaked around her lower back in some effort to bring her closer, to press her body to his, but Daniela didn’t budge.

Giving up the effort, Max ran his hand up her back instead, dragging his nails just hard enough to make Daniela moan into the kiss. He smiled against her lips, then gave a groan of his own when her hand moved over his chest. Sharper nails than his traced over old scars, and Daniela broke their kiss in favour of lining them across his jawline before settling at his neck. Heat pooled in Max’s lower stomach and the man audibly gasped when fangs grazed his skin, and the woman over top of him chuckled. The hand moving up her back was suddenly in her hair, holding her against his neck as she kissed and nipped at the base. Her lips coupled with her nails dragging on his chest and soft moans from him needing at her breasts made Max groan into Daniela’s ear, burying his face in her shoulder.

What could have been an eternity felt entirely too short lived when Daniela sat back, getting a whine from her partner. She only grinned at him, taking the hand on her breast in her own once again and placing another kiss on his palm.

“What’s wrong, omul meu frumos?” She asked softly, planting more kisses over his knuckles as he looked at her with a certain desperation. “Tell me….”

“I want you….” He breathed. “Fuck, Daniela, I need you.”

The redhead gave his palm one last kiss with a smile before moving back. She peppered kisses down his body, hooking her thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and pulling them down as she moved off the edge of the bed, pulling him to it with her. She positioned herself between his thighs, holding them apart with one hand as the other brushed back the bush of dark curls. Daniela instinctually ran her thumb over his aching clit, earning a sharp gasp from the man. It had been far too long, Daniela thought, since she'd touched Max in his entirety, and she would make sure he enjoyed it as much as she would.

She gave some extra kisses to his inner thigh before she settled on her goal, running her tongue through slick folds and hearing the groaned “Oh fuck…” that escaped her lover. One of Max’s hands tangled itself in Daniela’s hair, bucking his hips slightly when her tongue flattened against him, a silent beg for more. Daniela gave some kind of satisfied hum, finding her way back to the bundle of nerves and flicking her tongue over it. Max put his head back, his free hand over his mouth as if it would stifle the uneven breaths or low moans.

Daniela teased circles around his entrance with her fingers before slowly pushing in two, her other hand finding its way down her body and running fingers over her own wet heat. As she began to move her fingers inside her partner, she pushed against her own clit, moaning against his. Her fingers curled inside him to hit that oh so special spot, and Max’s moans got louder. The hand that covered his mouth was now gripping one of the pillows as he watched her with half lidded eyes.

She then lifted her head, starting to kiss back up his stomach and adding a third finger in compensation. His breath hitched at the sudden change, and Daniela caught him in a kiss. He could taste himself on her when her tongue entered his mouth, but it was only for a moment before she pulled back. A familiar heated tingle bubbled up in his center as Daniela worked him closer to his climax.

“Dani…”

“Do you love me?” She asked him softly, lips tantalizingly close to his.

“Yes…” He groaned. “Yes, yes,  I–fuck–I love you!”

Daniela grinned, and just as Max was reaching his tipping point she pulled her fingers out.

The sound that came out of him was some mix of confusion and a sob. He squirmed under her for a moment, trying to process the sudden halt.

“Daniela..” The word came out as a whine, almost desperate. She only giggled at him in response. “You’re evil…”

“Only a little.” She gave an innocent smile, planting a kiss on his cheek before leaning into his ear. “Be a good boy–” She whispered. “–and sit up for me.”

Despite the shakiness of his limbs, Max obliged, propping himself upright and moving back against the headboard. In no time, Daniela was straddling him, keeping him pinned under her hips. That look of awe he’d had earlier was back as she settled herself, allowing him to momentarily take in as much of her as he could.

Gods, she was beautiful.

Wordlessly, Daniela took his hand, leading it like she’d done not long before, only this time she brought it to rest between her thighs. Palm up, she guided his fingers along her soaked heat, eventually adjusting their position so his middle and ring fingers teased her entrance.

“Don’t move. Not yet.” She told him sternly, and without waiting for a proper response she lowered herself onto his fingers. A small whine escaped her as she bottomed out against his palm, holding onto his shoulders to steady herself.

“Fuck…” Daniela breathed, and, after a moment of adjusting her position, began slowly grinding her hips on his lap, taking his fingers in deeper.

Max watched her, almost mesmerized by the movements. The heat he felt in his lower stomach came back, and he resisted the urge to squirm.

She must have seen it on his face, however, because he suddenly cupped his face with one hand. “Don’t worry, dragul meu…” She pressed their foreheads together. “Good boys get rewarded, and you have been very good for me…” The heat suddenly rushed to Max’s face as Daniela gave him a passionate kiss, something he didn’t hesitate to lean into.

After a moment of fully adjusting, Daniela began to move herself up and down on Max’s fingers, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck. Her moans were directly in his ear and it made the ache between his legs all the more painful. He yearned for the release, but he could be patient.

He was a good boy, after all.

“Kiss me…” She moaned. “I want you to kiss me all over. Make me feel loved.”

“Of course, draga mea.”

He planted kisses from her cheek to her jawline, saving a handful of deep, more passionate ones for her lips. She let out whines and small moans into his mouth, one of her hands in his hair, trying to keep him close as they tasted one another. Gods, how he adored her little noises, made all the sweeter when he knew they were happening because of him.

When he inevitably broke the kiss he moved to her neck. His teeth scraped her skin, much like she’d done to him earlier, and while that didn’t earn a gasp, his sudden bite did. Just hard enough that he knew it would mark, and immediately followed it with a peppering of sweet kisses. Daniela put her head back as he kissed down the front of her neck and around her collar bone, losing herself in the sensation as her pace suddenly picked up.

The lowest he could go in his position was her chest, rhythmically bouncing along with Daniela while she rode his fingers. He planted kisses on each breast, eventually catching one of Daniela’s nipples in his mouth. The grip she had on his hair tightened, and he flicked his tongue over the sensitive nub, reveling in the gasped moans she let out.

“Oh, Max…” She held his head close as he started making a kissing trail back up her neck. “Tell me you love me.”

He didn’t hesitate. “I love you.”

“How much do you l-love me..?” Her movements started to get less coordinated as her pacing quickened yet again.

“I would die for you.” He told her, breathless. “I would kill God herself if it would make you happy.”

“Oh, yes, again..!” Her claws dug into his back. “I’m so close, say it again!”

“I love you, Daniela. I love you, I love you, I love you!”

Daniela gave a sudden loud moan as she barred down on Max’s fingers. He was sure the claws in his back had drawn blood, but that was quickly forgotten for the feeling on Daniela’ walls squeezing and twitching around his fingers until she inevitably collapsed against him. He slipped his free hand around her back, allowing her a minute to catch her breath.

“So good to me…” She purred in a way that struck Max’s core. “My good boy.”

After a moment of silently collecting herself, Daniela sat back, moving herself off of Max’s fingers. Bringing them to her mouth, she cleaned them of the slick coating. “I say you’ve earned your reward.”

“Would be nice.” He laughed a little, and with a grin Daniela shifted their positions again.

“Scooch.” She giggled, getting him to inch forward so she could move behind him. She then pulled him back against her body, not hesitating to move one of her hands between his thighs.

With gentle movements, Daniela teased his opening, covering her fingers in slick before entering almost painfully slow. She gave him kisses on the back of his neck, admiring the groan he gave when she started to pump her fingers in and out of him, quickly picking up pace at his request. He put his head back against her, openly moaning into the air while she traced circles around his clit with her thumb.

“My beautiful man.” She hummed in his ear. “I love you so much…”

“I love you–” He gasped when Daniela hit his sweet spot again. “Iubirea mea, draga mea, te iubesc!”

“Te iubesc.”

It didn’t take much after that. Max began to match Daniela’s rhythm, bucking his hips against the movements of her fingers until his berthing turned ragged. He took Daniela’s free hand in his, squeezing it slightly when his body stiffened and he suddenly lurched forward. He gave a low, throaty moan, and Daniela could feel him tighten around her fingers before he slumped back.

After giving his shoulder a kiss she rested her head on it, wrapping her arms around his midsection while he recovered. Max grew comfortable in the position, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Told you I could lead.” Daniela teased.

He let out a huffed breath, but smiled. “Yeah… You weren’t too bad.” He paused for a moment. “Still really evil, though.”

She giggled at him. “Oh, honey, I could do so much worse than that… If you let me.”

Max hummed, but he didn’t seem to need a whole lot of convincing.

“I’m all yours.”

#i don't think i've ever written proper smut in my life so.... #daniela dimitrescu #oc max #daniela dimitrescu x oc #transmasc character #smut fanfiction #resident evil 8 #re 8 oc

[steamed-ham-moved]

Ignoring the fact that I have 2 other fics ongoing… I’m excited to start a new one with jdm characters, Max and Negan (Dead city/S11) being mains. It’s a Cryptid themed fic. Should be finished with the first chap in a few days.

#negan #max the resident #twd #negan fanfiction #jeffrey dean morgan #negan x oc #negan x you #twd fanfiction #twd negan #the walking dead negan #negan smut #negan x reader #negan smith

[rockstarstate32]

AUTHORS NOTE!!!

Thank you all so much for reading my shrug!! You're all amazing and I love you!!

I'd like to take a sec and push some of my tumblr popularity to mine and my social media pages. I stream occasionally on twitch as a dead by daylight survivor. Please follow, like his recent post, and turn those notifications on.

Thank you all so so much!! This is one of the only times I'll ever promote my social media. Please continue to request and I'll continue to write.

Twitch: @mumblerapisded

Instagram: @mumblerapisded

Personal Instagram: @larubiajoss

#smut #twitch #love #cars #fanfic #lgbtq #lgbtqia #dead by daylight #resident evil #stranger things #instagram #bruno madrigal x reader #lana del ray aesthetic #the weeknd #bruno madrigal smut #disney movies #disney #max verstappen #support #daddy's good girl

[vivwritesfics]

Hey you were looking for a polyfic so here you go!

LanOscar or Lando x Max

(Idk if you write smut but the if you do you can encourparate it into this plot)

Plot: The reader becomes pregnant after a wild night (shall we say) and between the two boys they are convinced that it's their child. But when the baby is born it is one of the drivers from the ship above (I don't mind which one either driver of any ship is fine) and they are proud of it, and the other driver is slightly jealous that it isn't his. But he grows to love the child as the months pass and the reader says how the next child that is put in her is his.

I really don't know if this makes sense upon which I do apologise.

Hope your Well <3

Gonna do norstappen bc I got a landoscar one coming

It was meant to be a threesome, a one night experience, not a throuple. But they worked together, so it was pretty hard to stay away

.

Whether it was lingering gazes and touches, or moments spent too long in each others presence without much explanation.

But this only lasted a few weeks, a month at most, before came the dreaded pregnancy test.

It was bought in a moment of anxiety. Her period was only late by a day and she had no other symptoms of pregnancy, but she was so worried that she ran to the store and bought one that afternoon.

She didn't tell the boys. Why should she when she's definitely not pregnant? But she wasn't definitely not pregnant.

The two lines stared back at her. Fuck, she really was pregnant. Holy fuck she was going to throw up.

As soon as she was done throwing up, she grabbed her phone and sent a picture of the pregnancy test to the groupchat she had with Max and Lando.

They rushed straight over. Thank god they all resided in Monaco. It was just one of the perks of being drivers, she supposed. Well, not that she'd be driving at the minute.

Her thoughts started spiralling down the path of who would be driving the Ferrari alongside Charles Leclerc in her place. She would have loved to see Arthur Leclerc drive alongside his brother, bit Ollie Bearman was an incredibly talented candidate, too.

It was only when Max and Lando knocked on her door that she snapped out of it. They wore grins on their faces as she pulled the door open. "So," Lando began, his boyish smile playing on his lips. "Who's is it?"

She rolled her eyes and let them into her apartment. "Does it matter?" She asked and Max shook his head, but Lando nodded.

Of course he did. There was nothing simple about Lando Norris. "Yeah, because whoever isn't the dad gets the next go, right?"

Her eyes went wide at that suggestion. "Jeez Lando, we haven't even had the first yet," she said as she sat on the sofa beside Max.

He instantly pulled her into his body and kissed the top of her head. "We'll be with you every step of the way," he said and she turned to kiss him properly.

And they were with her every step of the way. They were with her when she told her team principl and they were there when her absence was announced on social media (along with the announcement of the promising young F2 driver that would be her stand in). Of course, the media weren't told why she was missing the races for the year, just that it was medical.

They were there when her bump started to show, there to buy her maternity clothes. They were there for the late night cravings and for the emotional breakdowns over things she later thought to be insignificant.

They were there to set up a room for the baby, decorated with race cars, of course. "Project Hamilton," she had jokes as they painted a track onto the wall.

When the baby was born, they got a paternity test. Just to find out if the baby would be predisposed to any conditions of any kid. The only condition he was predisposed to was being part Dutch.

As soon as the results came that he was Max's son, Lando was pouty as all hell. He didn't want it to affect the way he loved this child, tried so hard not to let it, but he couldn't help it.

Max constantly reminded Lando that he was just his son, he was Lando's son, too. The four of them were one big family, didn't matter who was really the father.

It took some time, and some forced bonding from her and Max, but Lando came to love their son as if they were blood.

But he was still convinced it was his job to knock her up next. He was a man obsessed. As soon as he could he had her on the bed with her ankles in the air.

Max hadn't touched her pussy in weeks. He wasn't allowed to, not unless he wanted to get jumped by Lando.

But, sure enough, another positive pregnancy test sat on the bathroom sink. Lando Norris was a smug little shit, because this one was definitely his.

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader smut #f1 #formula one #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #max verstappen #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen smut #max verstappen x reader smut #norstappen #norstappen imagine #norstappen x reader #ln4 #mv1 #mv33

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Best Kept Secret on the Grid || Part Four

MV, CL, CS, LH, LN, PG, GR, FA, DR, OP x fem!reader Warnings: fluff and flirting (sorry there will be smut next time) Reader gets to go on a hunt of her own! WC: 3.1k F1 Masterlist || Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five Thank you to @kimi240302 for being inspired to make this collage, it’s perfect! 💕 and it inspired this fic!

It was strange that the elevator had arrived on your floor, and even stranger that it was empty. Your penthouse apartment took up the entire top floor of the building and required a keycard just to use the private elevator. Only Max had the spare keycard.

Sticking your head inside you found it wasn’t entirely empty. Tucked into the corner was a gift box tied off with a delicate silver bow, your name written on the tag hanging from it. You thought about calling Max first but it wasn’t unusual to receive gifts from him so you carried it inside and opened it.

Your jaw dropped at the beautiful ball gown neatly placed inside. Each crystal of the glittering bodice was individually sewn on with meticulous care and it must have cost a small fortune to make. There wasn’t even a label to give a clue as to who the designer was, but it was clearly custom made and you knew without even stepping into it that it would fit perfectly.

Lifting the train out, you found an equally stunning half mask along with a small blank card that you turned over. Hand written in an elegant script is said: Le Bal Masqué 2200. You looked at the time and saw there was just over an hour to get ready.

You had just settled the mask over your styled hair when there was a knock on your door and you slipped your heels on before answering. Expecting to see Max waiting, you were surprised to find a stranger holding a card with your name on it, silently handing it over before you could ask what was going on.

It’s your turn to find us tonight, M.

“Your car is downstairs, madame,” the messenger said as he held the elevator door open for you.

The excitement brought a smile to your face as you stepped inside, wondering just what he had planned for you. You obviously weren’t hunting them the same way they chased you on the island, the dress was far too nice to ruin.

You were occupied by your thoughts the entire drive through the streets of Monte Carlo until you arrived at a cliff side residence. The gates opened at the car’s approach and you could see the mansion was full of men wearing their finest suits. 

“Have a lovely evening, madame,” the chauffeur said as he opened the door for you. 

You thanked him as you stepped out, your entrance garnering plenty of envious stares from the women and looks of longing from men loitering on the steps. You had scanned what you could see of the men’s faces beneath the masks and determined why this was a hunt - three had the same blue eyes and dirty blonde hair as Max while two could have easily been Charles at first glance. 

Smiling to yourself, you climbed the stairs and entered the large foyer full of men who could all pass for yours. 

“Champagne?” You took the flute from the waiter’s tray and saw two rolls of stickers beside it. Noticing the curious lift of your brow above the diamante mask, the waiter tapped the first roll. “The green sticker is for when you believe you have found one of the drivers here this evening, there are only ten so choose wisely. If you believe you have found an imposter, place a red dot on their lapel and they will be escorted off the premises. You have until midnight. Happy hunting.”

You smirked over the rim of your champagne flute and grabbed the roll of red stickers first. Turning to survey the crowd, you chuckled as you whispered to yourself, “Oh Max, you’ve outdone yourself.”

“Enjoying your evening?”

You turned to the man with a thick Spanish accent and immediately knew he wasn’t your Nando, though the jawline beneath the mask followed the same curve and his short beard was shaped similarly. The voice was too deep and the eyes were more green than hazel to match Nando’s so you plucked a red dot from the reel and slapped it on his suit as you answered, “Extremely. Thank you for coming.”

His lips turned down and a large unmasked man stepped out of the shadows, already guiding him out of the residence. You were already making your way to the ballroom where the crowd swelled, dozens and dozens congregating on the dance floor where a band were playing new hit singles but in a classical way. Perhaps band wasn’t the right term, there were so many instruments it was practically an orchestra.

An arm curled around your waist as you swayed to the music and you tipped your head back to meet a pair of brown eyes so dark they were almost black. He didn’t speak as he pulled you closer and for the first time you weren’t certain if the man was an imposter or your Esteban.

“You’re not going to ask how my night is going?” you baited him, a quick smiling parting his lips as he shook his head. Pursing your lips, you weren’t ready to rule him out with a red sticker but you needed to hear his voice to decide if he was worth one of the precious ten green dots in your hand. “Then how about a drink instead?”

His smile grew as he took your hand in his and led you to one of the small bars dotted around the ballroom. Looking at the long fingers laced with yours, you saw a thin tan line on his index finger where a ring had spent a lot of time and you tried to remember if Esteban had one too. Charles, Pierre and Lando definitely did but the memory of Estie’s hand drew a blank - you knew his fingers from how they felt between your legs not by sight apparently.

“Two piña coladas, please,” you ordered as you watched what features you could around the mask but there was no sign of disgust. “One for the road,” you added as you placed a red sticker on his collar.

“How did you know?” the lookalike asked with an English accent.

“Pineapples.” You shrugged and took the cocktail that was placed in front of you. “He hates them.”

Half an hour later the crowd had thinned dramatically. The security team had been kept busy as you felt like the Oprah meme, slapping red dots on the imposters - you get one, and you get one. With a large portion of men gone you were able to focus better and there were two men in particular you had your eye on.

All it took was one laugh and you were peeling back the first green sticker, heading for the pair of dark haired men chatting in the library. Their backs were to you as they laughed at silly book titles and you announced your arrival with a kiss to the shadow of a beard before sticking the green dot to his forehead.

“You two together was always going to be a dead giveaway,” you teased as you stuck another sticker on Lando’s nose. “Only Carlos can make you laugh like that.”

“Don’t tell me we were first?” he whined as he saw the otherwise full strip of green dots. “How have you not found George?”

You trailed a finger over the perfect lines of his suit before tugging the bow tie around his neck. He swallowed at the smouldering look in your eyes and let you drag him closer by the throat until your lips brushed his ear. “Why don’t you help me?”

His lips parted to answer but Carlos pulled him away before he could impart the information he knew. Blocking you with his body, Carlos shook his head at your attempt to break the younger driver. “Rules are rules, hermosa, and you are running out of time.”

He jutted his chin at the grandfather clock and smirked as he ducked from your reach with a laugh when you tried to take back the green sticker. “Uh uh uh, I’m well and truly yours.”

“You’re lucky you’re handsome,” you warned as you left them to their game and continued your hunt. “Alright, George, Gerorge, George, where would you be…oh.”

You had wandered through the throngs of people inside the impressive mansion but you hadn’t explored the rest of the property. It was very easy to understand Lando’s complaint when you walked out the wide open doors to the infinity pool set on the cliff face.

“I’m not sure how I’m going to get this to stick to you,” you said as you held a green dot on your finger tip. George grinned beneath his mask as he looked up from the waters edge enjoying a warm dip in the pool. Water dripped from his hair and ran down his chest as he stood up, tracing a wet palm up your calf through the slit in the dress. He was the only one at the soirée who had taken his suit off and he had also decided to put his bow tie back on before hopping in the heated pool. “You look like a stripper.”

“A very expensive one I hope,” he teased. “You look hot, love, you should join me and cool off.”

“Wish I could,” you sighed, feeling a little like the white rabbit in Alice in Wonderland, “but I’m running late and still have seven of you guys to chase down.”

George pulled himself out of the pool and grabbed a towel, a few drops of water catching on the crystal bodice as he shook his hair out. He dragged the towel down his body and you used the dry spot on the centre of his chest to plant a green dot on him. “Tagging my heart, love,” he chuckled, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “You don’t need to chase us, we are waiting for you.”

He sent you a wink as he swiped up his suit and left you poolside, confused by what he meant. “You’ll figure it out, I know you will.”

Dawdling along the balcony, you chewed over his words before realisation struck. You found Lando and Carlos together and George in the water - places where they loved to be. It seemed so obvious once you thought it and you rushed inside to the ballroom. You hadn’t questioned why the orchestra was masked but when you spotted the dark head of hair at the grand piano it made sense.

“It’s my favourite Frenchman,” you whispered in his ear and the melody bounced over a miskey.

“Monegasque,” he corrected automatically, turning to see the amusement shimmering in your eyes. “Bonsoir, mi bella.”

“You might want to rest those fingers, Charles, wouldn’t want you to get a cramp later.”

He grinned at the remark and dragged them across the keys. “Don’t worry, I’m just warming up.”

“So am I.” You reached out and stuck the green dot to the index and middle finger on his right hand before kissing the dimple on his cheek. “Those are mine.”

You followed a waiter as he slipped from the room with an empty tray and found a set of stairs leading down a floor, into a busy kitchen. Your next target stood out among the white shirt chefs and you were once again amazed at how they had managed to find strangers with such a resemblance to your drivers.

“What’s cooking, good looking?”

Fernando turned with a spoonful of something that smelled delicious and your lips parted for him. A heavenly moan hummed from your chest as you tasted what he had been stirring on the stove. Nando smirked as his eyes followed the line of your lips before he leaned in and caught them with his, rolling his tongue across your bottom lip.

“You missed a bit,” he said as he wiped the spot of sauce with his thumb before licking it clean. You momentarily forgot what you were doing but he had his wits about him as he took a green sticker and placed it on his collar. “Now this is my colour.”

“Not red?” He shook his head as you flattened the dot to make sure it wouldn’t be lost in the 25 minutes you had left. “So the Ferrari rumours…?”

“Just rumours, querida, but I don’t think you have time to gossip.” He pointed the spoon to the clock above the head chef’s station. “There’s still a few spots left.”

“Vegan special,” the chef shouted as he hit the bell for service and a waiter arrived in an instant. “Deliver this to the home theatre.”

“One less now.” You grinned and pulled another sticker out. “See you at midnight.”

You followed the waiter into the quiet depths of the mansion until he reached a door and you took the plate from the tray. “I can take it from here, thanks.”

Lewis was so engrossed in the film he didn’t notice it was you in the room with him. It was only when he looked closer he saw the green dot stuck to the white china plate in your hands and looked up with a wide smile.

“I take gratuities in orgasms, just so you know,” you said with a laugh as he moved the plate and pulled you onto his lap instead.

“It’s your lucky night, baby,” he purred in your ear as his hand slipped up the slit in your dress. “I’ve been told I’m a heavy tipper.”

His fingers teased along the lace edge of your panties and you only just managed to clear your head before he could erase all your thoughts with his touch. “Rain check,” you groaned, not wanting to leave just yet but Fernando had given you an idea before the chef had set you onto Lewis’ path. “Where would you go if you wanted to hear the juiciest gossip?”

Lewis chewed his lip as he thought it over before deciding, “The bar, a few drinks definitely loosens lips.”

“Then that’s where I need to go.” You thanked him with a kiss before leaving the theatre and made your way back to the busiest room in the place. But, before you could leave the lower levels you heard a distinctive accent and skidded to a stop.

“When they said you guys came from a land down under, I didn’t think they meant the basement.” Daniel’s smile split his face as you stepped into the games room where he and Oscar were chalking their cue sticks.

“Thank god you’re here,” Oscar sighed gratefully and placed the cue down on the table, turning to face you with a smile. “I suck at playing pool.”

“Maybe that’s because it's billiards, not pool,” you pointed out as you stepped into the space between his legs.

“I don’t even know what that is,” he admitted, his hands running over the dresses bodice and down to rest on your ass. “You look gorgeous.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a suit.” You straightened the bow that had tilted at some point and draped your arms around his neck. “It suits you, handsome.”

His nose wrinkled and you giggled as he tugged at the tie, sending it off kilter again. “It feels like I’m being choked.”

“There’s some pleasure to be found in a bit of choking. Isn’t that right?” Daniel asked in your ear as he stepped up behind you, his fingers delicately circling your throat. He guided your head back to his shoulder and traced his nose over your racing pulse, inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume. “Hmm, maybe we can show him how good it can be.”

You could feel both of them coming to life as they sandwiched you between them, digging their erections into you. Your eyes fluttered shut at the temptation to drop to your knees and taste the Australian drivers, but you forced your eyes open and squirmed free of their intoxicating embrace.

“Soon, promise,” you panted as you slapped a sticker on Daniel’s ass and made Oscar whine needily when you placed one over his tented trousers, rubbing your palm over it to make sure the green dot was secured. “Very soon.”

The largest bar was set up in what you guessed was usually a dining hall and it spanned the length of the room. Leaning against the bartop was Pierre, his chin on his fist as he listened to the revellers unravelling their innermost thoughts aloud. He was engrossed in the tale, nodding encouragement when the woman’s cheeks turned scarlet red beneath her mask.

“And what did he do?” Pierre asked eagerly.

The woman covered her lips as she giggled before leaning in and whispering her confession. Pierre’s lips parted with a gasp, his eyebrows rising over the top of his mask as he stood upright. “Non!”

“Oui!”

Pierre spun around at the sound of your voice in his ear and he tore his mask from his face. “Ma chatte, look at you,” he said with a playful bit of his lip as you gave him a slow spin to show all of your curves glittering beneath the chandelier light. “Beautiful. And just in time too.”

You followed his gaze and saw there was only three minutes to midnight. “Shit,” you whispered as you grabbed the second to last sticker and pressed it to his chest. “Gotta run.”

Your calves burned as you climbed the stairs, spiralling higher and higher, racing the hands of the clock until you reached the top floor. The entire wall was made of glass and overlooked the dark water beyond the cliffs, but it wasn’t the panoramic vista that caught your eye.

His back was to you, the black silk tie of his mask flattening the back of his hair that would usually stick up in all directions, especially after combing your fingers through the strands. But it didn’t matter if you couldn’t see his face, you would recognise him anywhere.

His hands were crossed at the base of his spine, right one holding the left. It was how he stood whenever he was on the podium, how he stood when his anthem played. It was how he stood when he desperately wanted to be elsewhere but was forced to be patient.

You wrapped your arms around his narrow waist and found his eyes reflected in the glass. “Hi.”

The grandfather clocks throughout the mansion struck 12, the loud dongs echoing through the halls. “I wasn’t sure you were going to make it.”

You smiled into his shoulder at the teasing in his voice. “I always knew where you would be.” Stepping around his body, he pulled you into the circle of his arms so you were both watching the horizon as fireworks began to light up the sky above the sea. “There was only one place my Max could possibly be…at the top.”

Click here for the next part.

#the best kept secret on the grid #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #f1 rpf #formula one fanfiction #f1 x female reader #f1 x reader #f1 x you

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

the five stages | f. odair

masterlist

summary: a journey back to a golden period of time of polaroid pictures, white knitted sweaters, and lively sea-green eyes. why? because in the present, those same pair of eyes are ruthlessly unrelenting and you have no other chance of their escape.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: heavy angst, vomiting, implied smut, depression, maggots, hallucinations, relieving fluff, mild horror. I don’t want to spoil the story too much, so I won’t be adding any more warnings, sorry y’all. this could be very triggering so please read at your own discretion. some descriptions are quite graphic!

notes: I’m super proud of this one—it’s sorta based off “little talks” by of monsters and men and “on the nature of daylight” by max richer. this fic probably won’t get many views, so I’ll be incredibly grateful for any—if any at all—type of engagement! <33

word count: 8k

The bedroom was cold; dark; empty. Empty even though I still resided in it.

My alarm had gone off two hours ago, yet I hadn’t moved an inch. When I finally turned my head to the side, I found that the space beside me was vacant. Cold; dark; empty—I reached out my hand anyway.

Thirty minutes passed before I wrestled myself out of bed and started making breakfast downstairs. The otherwise warm and flavourful plate of fruit-filled yoghurt and scrambled eggs on toast left my mouth feeling dry and my throat lodged.

It used to be one of my favourite meals. At least, when he was around.

Dishes were piled in the sink, dirty and untouched. I sat on the couch, pondering whether today was the day I would finally get to cleaning them. It wasn’t. I couldn’t. We always did that together. I wondered—if I left them in the sink long enough, would he return? Even just for five minutes to help me put them away? One month and seventeen days had passed, and yet I still entertained this thought religiously.

I wasted an hour running circles round the same contemplations before deciding fresh air, as cliché as it was, might do me some good.

Grey clouds concealed the sun’s warm golden light when I stepped outside, but that was fine—I didn’t like anything golden anymore. But he would want me to leave the house at least once a day, so that’s what I would do. I would go down to the beach beside our—my house and feel the sand collect between my toes as I walked to the water’s edge.

But wasn’t that where he was when it happened? Wasn’t he in water? Didn’t those things pile on top of him? Didn’t they sink their fangs into his neck and tear at his flesh until he was blown to…

Bits of egg, yoghurt and stomach bile sat at my feet. My legs buckled, and I collapsed to the ground in a sandy, tear-stricken heap. Since my lower body had refused to cooperate any longer, it took me until midday to crawl back up the dune and to my front doorstep.

Fuck. I needed to rest.

“I need you to rest, sweetheart.”

“I told you, I’m fine,” I whined. “I’m not sick.”

Finnick placed a bucket on the ground beside the bed. The room smelled of lemon disinfectant—a joy I often found in being sick… That is, if I were sick, which I was not. I must have drunk spoiled milk or eaten something bad during breakfast. Nevertheless, Finnick was not having it.

“You’re throwing up everything you manage to get down, and you’re shivering like it’s the middle of winter,” he said adamantly, tucking the comforter up to my chest. “It’s summer, and you’re very much not fine.”

I sat up, ready to heatedly debate the subject, but the room began swirling, and my ears were hissing like a staticky television channel without a signal. A quiet whimper buzzed in my throat as I hunched forward. Damn him, I was sick.

The mattress dipped as Finnick sat beside me. His hand was on my back, rubbing it soothingly as he used his other hand to tuck away the curtain of hair concealing my face. I huffed, half in annoyance, half in an attempt to suppress the nausea rising in my throat, and then sunk back against the pillows.

“Not sick, she says,” he jested, smiling down at me. I rolled my eyes, though unable to hide the weak, betraying smile creeping across my lips. “Close your eyes, sweetheart,” he said, a gentle command. “I’ll see you when you fall asleep.”

The wooden flooring welcomed me with hard, cold arms as I hauled my sandy body through the front door. Images of fangs, bloody flesh, and panicked sea-green eyes flooded my mind.

More breakfast, more bile. No lemon disinfectant.

My knees were folded beneath my body; my body was hunched over my knees. I was sobbing now, so hard that I threw up again (was there even anything left in my stomach at this point?), creating a thick puddle of vomit and tears beneath me. Cries and gasps for air bounced around the house. To call me a mess would be an understatement. I was a disaster. A disaster wrapped up in an unmendable tragedy with a ragged, threadbare ribbon barely holding me together.

And in case I wasn’t aware of this fact, the floorboards were so shiny that they mirrored a reflection of myself. My hair was a being of its own, all wild and unkempt, and my face was another story entirely—a red, blotchy thing I wasn’t too interested in delving into.

But the most unsettling aspect had nothing to do with me, it was that there was someone else in the reflection. Two green balls of light were glowing above my head.

Dishevelled golden hair…

Dimpled cheeks…

My forehead was pressed to the floor as I screamed.

“I don’t want to make you sick as well,” I said, contrarily enjoying the feeling of Finnick’s skin warm against mine, hot blood flowing through his veins.

A day had passed since I first became unwell, and the sickness had continued to wreak havoc inside me.

We were both under the thick covers, our limbs tangled together as he held me atop his chest. (my body didn’t register the scorching summer temperatures. I actually felt as though my core temperature was a few degrees below freezing. Meanwhile, Finnick was characteristically toasty warm. It was perfect for me, but not so much for him, evident in the beads of sweat collecting on his forehead. Nevertheless, he made no complaints).

My body rose and fell with each breath he took. I was trying to inhale whenever he exhaled in a weak attempt to prevent the festering sickness in my body from entering his, and though it was a futile gesture, I did it anyway.

“In sickness and health, remember?” he said.

I smiled. “We’re not even married.”

“Yet, you mean,” he countered. “I plan on spending the rest of my life with you, sweetheart. You know that.”

My heart fluttered at the thought of spending an entire lifetime with him—waking up in each other’s embrace each morning, the warm sunlight peeking through the blinds of our bedroom; Finnick calling me “Mrs. Odair” or “My wife” at every opportunity because doing so made us both giggle like two moronic, love-struck teenagers; and being unable to prevent the deep smile lines on both our cheeks as we age, a constant display of our perpetual happiness.

“Sixty more years of having and holding you,” he continued with a gentle musing in his tone. “For better or for worse... For richer or for poorer.” He then stroked the side of my face and brushed away the sweaty strands of hair sticking to my forehead. “In sickness and in health…”

“…Until death do us part,” I finished, my voice slow with fatigue.

Two fingers sat beneath my chin and tilted my head upward. My eyes connected with Finnick’s. They were soft. Heartfelt.

“Not even then. I’ll love you beyond the grave,” he murmured. Then his lips were slowly curving into a pensive smile. “When we’re both ghosts and haunting the next owners of this house.”

I was now smiling, too. “I’d hoped you would say something like that.”

How could he lie like that? There was no we. There were no next owners. There was only me, alive and alone in a comatose house. And mind you, I was sane enough to know that it wasn’t actually his ghost haunting me, though I wish I weren’t because having that knowledge was even worse. It meant he was truly erased from existence.

“Go away,” I whispered to the reflection on the floor.

He didn’t. His vacant green eyes kept staring down at my crumpled figure.

I shot off the floor and spun around, hot tears streaming down my face. “Go away!” His face remained expressionless. He looked like himself, only colder. “You said sixty more years! You said we’d be together!” I mindlessly picked up and flung a small picture frame at him, only for it to pass through his body and shatter on the floor behind him. “Why did you lie to me?!” My voice was frayed with fury, though underlined with grief.

He said nothing, did nothing. All he did was watch.

My legs buckled, and I was on the floor again. I was whispering, half-sobbing, the same question over and over until the words slurred together. “Why’d you lie? Why’d y’lie?” The only time I stopped was when my tongue grew too heavy to move anymore.

To my surprise, he eventually came and sat beside me, remaining cold and silent—as I too had become.

Glass fragments from the picture frame were scattered across the floorboards. The photo within had fallen out and, ironically, drifted towards me. I didn’t bother acknowledging him as I moved onto my hands and knees and began crawling forward—my palms slicing open and blood seeping out—until the photo was in my hands. My shins had granules of glass pricking into them, but I couldn’t feel the pain; all I could do was stare at the memory in my hands.

The picture had been taken in District Thirteen, a day before he signed up for… the mission.

I was drifting in and out of sleep when a sudden bright flash lit up my eyelids.

“Oops.”

Heavy eyes fluttering open, I was met with a small camera pointing down at me, which was being held up by a lengthy muscular arm, which was connected to an even more muscular and broad shoulder, which was connected to—okay, sorry, I think you get it.

“Finnick!” I shrieked, pulling the covers over my naked figure.

He laughed, the vibrations rumbling deep within his chest, beneath my ear. A soft whirring sound accompanied the polaroid sliding out of the camera, its black film hiding the doubtless embarrassing picture beneath. He placed the film on the sheets beside him, letting the photo develop in darkness.

“I was supposed to cover the flash,” he said, still chuckling.

I rubbed my eyes, which were twinkling with little sparkles of light. “I think you blinded me.”

“Lucky you,” he jested. “You’re finally free from my repulsive exterior.”

I started to reach for the picture beside him—“You’re an idiot”—but then he was rolling us over until his arms were pillared on either side of my head and he was hovering above me.

His hair was a mess, a testament to the night before (and very early hours of the morning), and he was sporting a beautiful, lazy grin. “Yeah? Well, you’re engaged to an idiot,” he said, tilting his head in an arrogant manner. “So what does that make you?”

The sea-glass ring hugging my finger gleamed in the lamp’s dull light as I reached out to touch his face, my fingertips brushing along the edges of his pronounced jawline. Tangled strands of hair and a beaming smile were reflecting back at me in his eyes. No one had ever loved anyone as much as I loved Finnick—disregarding the one exception that was staring down at me.

“Blinded by love,” I whispered.

Brief yet poignant emotion trickled through his features, his eyes. Then, like a flick of a switch, he covered it up and lowered his face into my neck, groaning the words, “So corny.”

My fingers were tangled in his hair, holding him close to me. “Liar,” I laughed. “You loved it.”

“I love you, which is why I put up with your corniness,” he murmured into my skin.

Even after all this time, my heart still leapt whenever he said those three words, even when he was being a jerk about it. I kissed the top of his head. “I love you, too.”

We laid like this for a short while longer—Finnick keeping his face buried in the warmth of my neck, his arms curled beneath my body; me playing with the golden waves of his hair that were somehow softer than my own. He was so heavy on top of me that it was starting to become difficult to breathe, but in no universe would I ever tell him to get off. It was a blissful sort of suffocation.

A sort anyone would snap a picture of just to keep as a reminder of how beautiful it feels to be smothered with love. With that being said, the picture that lay awaiting beside me was brought back to mind.

“Oh no,” I moaned, picking it up and taking a short glance at the developed photo. I covered my face with my hands, repeating the words, “Oh no.”

The photo was plucked from my fingers, and Finnick began humming contentedly to himself.

In the photo, my face had been nuzzled into his bare, muscular chest, eyes closed in sleep-drunken serenity, hair thrown over my shoulder and spilling across the pillow. My hand rested on his contoured stomach with just enough of my upper arm and low light to conceal my breasts. Finnick had a delicate hand draped over my waist. He was gazing down at me with a smile that was just… full of pure love.

I had to admit—it was a beautiful picture. Despite my initial disapproval.

“Beautiful,” I heard him echo my thoughts, his eyes still scanning the photo. Then his brows furrowed, and his head slightly inched forward as though he had just noticed something peculiar in the picture. “Oh, and you are too, I guess.”

My head tilted back against the pillow with an abrupt laugh. I shook my head, looking back at him. “I hate you.”

“Liar,” he said, leaning in closer.

His lips were on mine for what must have been the millionth time in the past few hours. The bedside clock announced that breakfast was soon approaching, though it was clear neither of us would make an appearance within the next hour (or two).

“You love me,” he whispered as he slid inside me.

And I did.

I really did.

The muscles in my cheeks were straining due to how hard I was smiling.

It wasn’t my idea to keep a picture of us half-naked in the entryway of our home. He always was a bit unusual like that. Completely unashamed of who he was and how he acted. Sometimes a little too boisterously, but that’s what I loved so much about him—how confident he was in his love for me, so much so that nothing else mattered, no one else’s opinion.

God, I love him so much.

Love…?

Wait.

That’s not right.

Shouldn’t it be “loved”?

And why was I smiling? I didn’t have anything to smile about anymore. He was gone. Our wedding never occurred. Our faces never wrinkled with smile lines. Our clasped hands never weathered with age. He was gone.

The polaroid slipped from between my fingers. My hands were covered in glass and blood, blood that had painted a dark red splotch in the middle of the shiny film. Figures.

After a short while of staring blankly at the scattered debris decorating the floor, I finally found it in myself to start climbing back onto my feet. My straightened legs wobbled and ached beneath me with the little energy I had. That’s what happens when you can barely stomach food anymore: no energy, always sleeping, always swamped by nightmares or bittersweet memories—at this point, they were one and the same.

Not a strand of gold or a fleck of green was in sight when I glanced over my shoulder. For now, at least. He liked making an appearance once or twice a day.

Pieces of glass crunched beneath my bare, stinging feet as I made for the stairwell. A mess for another day, I reasoned. Just like the dishes. Sticky red footprints stamped each wooden step I ascended, growing less prominent as I reached the second floor.

After taking a right down a short hallway, the encompassing walls littered with magnificent seashells and dried ocean flora, I turned the knob to the furthest room and entered. The floor was landscaped with mountains of clothes which drenched the room in a familiar, all-consuming smell. The scent kind of reminded me of receiving a warm hug, albeit from someone you know you should let go of in more ways than one.

His hair, golden and tousled, caught my eye as I passed the wall of string-hung polaroids in our… sorry, my bedroom. His smile was all dimpled and brilliant, and he had his tanned arms wrapped around my middle. Just moments after the picture was taken, he had tackled me into the water and rightfully earned a smack on the back of the head. In turn, he did it again.

But before that, we were both looking into the camera with the most joyful expressions—huge grins, bright eyes. Frozen in time.

I never let myself look too long at that picture anymore. And I never, ever looked into his eyes. Green used to be my favourite colour. I didn’t have a favourite colour anymore. It was safe to say I didn’t have a favourite anything anymore; everything favourable was a reminder of him.

I picked up a white knitted sweater off the ground and tugged it over my head, staining it with splotches of dark red. Knowing him, he would wear it regardless—whatever was mine, was also his, and was equally the same in reverse, even things as grotesque as blood.

Well, he would have worn it, I should have said.

The sweater had been specifically tailored for him. I remembered how the soft sleeves hugged his arms so well that every fluid curve of his biceps was visible, similar to a building wave before it crested. On me, the sleeves swallowed my arms whole, which I liked to think in their own unique way had also been unintentionally tailored for me, like someone out there knew one day I would need some way to drown in him when he was gone.

Finnick’s fingers tugged at the silk ribbons, unwrapping the opulent gift box that sat on our dining table. Capitol devotees would send extravagant parcels weekly, turning up in abundance on our doorstep. Sometimes Finnick didn’t even bother opening them; sometimes we opened them together just to get a good laugh out of whatever ridiculous item was inside.

He never, though, opened the perfume-scented letters marked with lipstick stains.

“Oh,” I said in surprise as he lifted the lid. Inside was a folded piece of fabric, knitted and cream-white and intricate, though still simple. It was soft to the touch; thick enough to retain warmth. I held it up with two hands, admiring the hand-sewed threads of cotton. Whoever’s handiwork this was, it was nothing to laugh at.

Holding it up to Finnick’s torso, I smiled and said, “Try it on.”

“What?” He shook his head and smiled quizzically. “No.”

“Yes. I think it will look good on you.” I pressed it further against him with conviction. “Try it on.”

He tilted his head and exhaled deeply through his nose, giving me a begrudging, squinty-eyed look. From that, I already knew I had won him over, and watched as he snatched the sweater from my grasp and tugged his shirt off with one hand. I averted my eyes, feeling the tips of my ears flush with heat—we’d been together for over a year now; you would think I’d have grown accustomed to seeing him shirtless.

His head slipped through the neckline and he pulled the sweater down his body. I was right. It looked really good on him. Perfect, actually. The measurements were so precise that the fabric sloped off his shoulders like a compact mountain of snow. The thick-knitted collar dipped into a deep, uneven neckline that partly revealed his chest and made his neck look like a strong, contoured pillar. He looked at me expectantly, as though to ask, “Well?”

“It makes your neck and shoulders look really nice,” I blurted out, instantly cringing inside.

His expression contorted into something of amusement and surprise as he took a slow step towards me. “My neck and shoulders, huh?” he said, grinning devilishly. Oh, now I’d done it. Leave it to me to rocket Finnick Odair’s already atmospheric ego. “Anything else?”

I began backing away, but his prowling strides were so long that the space between us only shortened. When my backside hit the edge of the dining table, I knew I was done for.

“You know,” I began, avoiding his unrelenting stare. “I think it was just a momentary lapse of judgement.” He was closing in now, placing his hands on either side of my body to trap me in place. “It—It actually looks terrible on you,” I said, feigning sincerity and adding a little nod to help further my case.

His eyelids drooped as he gazed down at me, lips curving into that seductive smirk he had mastered long ago. “No takebacks,” he purred, voice low and gravelly. Dear God, I could only pray I wasn’t going to melt into a puddle on the floor. He always did this—took every opportunity to flirt and render me a stuttering, bashful mess. It was his favourite game to play. “This is now my new favourite shirt. All thanks to you, sweetheart.”

But, given the right timing and ever-wavering amount of confidence, I liked to play too.

I inhaled deeply, hoping my voice wouldn’t betray me. “Maybe you should take it off then,” I said, cocking my head to the side. “So you don’t ruin it.”

His mischievous expression revealed his next words before he even spoke them. “Maybe I will,” he said, and then he was tugging his sweater over his head, and I was tearing off my own. As his hands slipped beneath my thighs and lifted me onto our dining table, I prayed the wooden legs wouldn’t collapse under the weight of our next actions.

My fingertips ran over the soft, rippling patterns on the knitted sleeves, my arms crossed in a self-soothing manner. After that day, the sweater had become a sort of good luck charm—or so we agreed upon as we lay panting on the tabletop. He started wearing it to a multitude of events and parties in the Capitol (basically any place in which he needed a pick-me-up, a reminder of what he had to come home to, who he had to come home to).

He even wore it the day we got engaged.

So many happy memories were associated with this one white sweater. So many times, those cloud-soft sleeves were wrapped around my body, suffocating me in the scent of him—if nothing else, at least that remained.

The last time he had worn it was the day of the Reaping for the Quarter Quell; the last time our lives were ever semi-normal. I had fought tooth and nail to reach him before he was escorted onto the train, despite being ordered, “No goodbyes,” by one of the Peacekeepers. In modest terms, I had significantly decreased his chances of reproduction.

When I reached Finnick, he had brought me into a kiss so harsh and fervent that my lips were bruised the next day. He then yanked off his sweater, leaving his upper body completely exposed to everyone around us in complete disregard for his trauma-induced fear of doing so, and shoved it into my hands.

I had just stood there frozen in bewilderment, watching as he called out, “I love you, sweetheart!” Two Peacekeepers were forcing him onto the train, but he too fought for the last word. “Don’t forget—I’m always with you!”

That statement had never been truer than it was now. For better or for worse.

My vision unblurred as I returned to reality. Dismal, grey light was peeking through the shutters that formed the balcony doors, the daylight hours seeming to tick away at a snail’s pace. I used to wish for the days to be longer, for time to move slower, so I could savour the moments I had of happiness and sunlight which used to be plentiful.

Why do wishes only come true when you grow to desire nothing but the opposite?

Slothfully, I crawled onto the unmade king-size bed, my limbs crumpling and balling to my chest as the side of my head hit the pillow. The imprint on the mattress beneath my body didn’t match my own. It was much larger and broader. How long would it take for the springs to forget his body weight and recoil back into place as though he never existed at all?

I inhaled the sweater’s scent with every breath I took (and I tried not to wonder how long it would take for his scent to disappear as well) and hugged my arms around my waist. No pain was worse than the fleeting moments I forgot the embrace was my own and not his.

Hours passed, and so did the evening. A beautiful orange sunset hadn’t slipped through the shutter’s cracks because the clouds never dissipated. Night-time brought no consolation either. Not even the stars or moon made an appearance. Everything that once gave me a shred of optimism was hidden behind a veil of gloom.

I knew tomorrow wouldn’t be any different—the weather, my mood, his absence. Because the end of autumn was closing in, and the days were becoming bleaker. Trees would start shedding their leaves; the leaves would start to die.

I hoped I would too.

I was still curled up on my side, my body aching with stiffness, when my face began scrunching into this ugly, twisted mess of despair. My tears were slow yet heavy, synonymous with the day I had incurred.

But then something strange happened.

Someone called my name.

No. That couldn’t be right. I was the only one who occupied a house in the Victor’s Village; the others had either relocated after the war or were… dead.

But there it was again—my name, distant and eerie, yet spoken with a tone people often used to beckon over and aid a frightened, injured animal. My vision blurred, both from tears and concentration on the voice.

“Hey.”

I couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment my surroundings transformed into a kitchen, just that they had and that I was no longer in my bed but standing upright.

Ahead of me, in the distance, the sun was beating down on the crystalline water, and white frothy waves were cresting on the smooth, golden sand. It was a perfect day; not a cloud was in sight. The only blemish that smeared the blue sky was the reflection staring back at me from the window I gazed out of.

In my hands was a soup bowl and a damp dishrag.

“Sweetheart?” That once distant voice, concerned and beckoning, was standing right beside me.

Blinking, I snapped out of my daze and turned away from the window.

He stood tall beside me, despite being half hunched over the kitchen sink and scrubbing the last of the few dirty dishes stacked neatly on the bench top. His head was turned towards me, his enamoured sea-green eyes peering into my own as though he was searching behind them for what troubled me.

“Hey,” he spoke softly, standing up straight. His touch was warm and gentle as he reached for my hand, leaving soapy bubbles on my palm and fingers. “Where’d you go?”

Three odd things seemed to occur at once: first, I flinched away from his touch, overwhelmed by its paradoxical unfamiliar familiarity; second, I felt an inexpressible relief from seeing him standing before me, seeing his cheeks painted with a soft pink hue as though blood-red roses were hidden just beneath his skin.

The third was an onset of disorientation. I couldn’t tell you why I felt disorientated standing in my own kitchen with the love of my life, just, simply, that I did. There was an answer—it was close by, right under my nose, yet unreachable. We did this every day, didn’t we? We would eat meals together and then wash up together. So, why did I feel so unsettled?

I shook my head, dispelling the confusion that muddled my brain. “Sorry,” I whispered. “I don’t know what happened.” I laughed uneasily, without a hint of mirth.

He laughed too, not to poke fun or because he found my obvious turmoil amusing, but rather to comfort me, so I would feel less alone in my unease. “It’s alright,” he said gently.

Neither of us addressed what had happened; we simply resumed our routine of washing and drying in domestic silence. And as seconds turned to minutes, and as the sky remained sunny, I found myself smiling. All that mattered was that he was standing beside me and that the sun was beaming in the sky. So, I kept smiling.

After I finished drying the last dish, we began placing the plates, bowls, and an abundance of cutlery in their assigned drawers and cupboards, weaving past each other and giggling anytime we got in one another’s path. I was carrying a stack of white plates, eyeing the high cupboard they needed to go in, but before I could even attempt straining onto my toes, the plates were out of my hands and taken into another much larger pair.

The smell of sea salt and expensive cologne wafted from behind me as he towered over my shorter frame and placed the plates in the cupboard.

“I could have done that,” I said, smiling as I turned around to face him.

He had a playful glint in his eye. “Yeah, right. What are you, like, four feet tall?” he joked.

It was an extreme exaggeration since I was no way near that height, but I suppose everyone was miniature in comparison to him, being over six feet tall and all. I feigned open-mouthed offence, to which he gave the side of my head a quick, playful kiss of apology.

He then leaned against the counter with crossed arms. “Plus, when was the last time you actually put these dishes away? I’m surprised you even remember where they go.” He was grinning at me in a teasing manner, but every ounce of humour had drained from my body.

My eyes drifted to the floor.

Well, that was the question, wasn’t it—when was the last time I put the dishes away?

I couldn’t remember. In fact, I couldn’t remember what had happened this morning or the day before. Hell, I couldn’t even remember what we were doing before the dishes.

To be standing in a room, in a place you call home, and have a sense that nothing is in its right place, even though that is where everything has always been, is a disconcerting feeling beyond belief. To be perplexed by your own state of being—your existence—is even worse. I could almost describe it as a nauseating bout of vertigo.

My hands found the counter’s edge behind me, and I exhaled a shaky breath.

He stepped in front of me, one large and gentle hand reaching up to cup my jaw. “Are you okay?” he asked, his forehead wrinkling with shallow worry lines as he inspected my face. I hated that. I hated that I worried him so much. Sure, partners were supposed to lean on each other for support in a relationship (as he too did with me when needed), but I always felt so guilty doing so. Hadn’t he already suffered enough… pain in his lifetime? Who was I to cause him any more?

A sunbeam suffused the room, oozing across his face. The illumination lightened his eyes into a refreshing mint green, though, in contradiction, unearthed a pain that had been previously been concealed. Pain from what, I wasn’t sure. From concern regarding my unusual behaviour? Maybe a thought that was troubling him? Or perhaps he too was enduring a spell of confusion and had an inexplicable feeling that he was out of place.

Whatever his pain regarded, seeing it had rattled the deepest structures in which held my mind together.

It was then that I suddenly realised I hadn’t answered his question, so I gave him a wan “I’m-not-too-sure-myself” smile and then began slinking back to the sink window.

He followed behind me. I could feel him staring into the back of my head, could feel his brows draw together and his lips pull into a tight line, patiently waiting for a further explanation, though I wasn’t sure I could offer him one.

I hadn’t noticed before, but on the windowsill was a small picture frame containing a polaroid picture of us in bed—I was lying on his chest, half-naked and asleep, and he was looking down at me, smiling fondly yet with a sort of mischievous knowability. Running down the middle of the protective glass was a small, jagged crack.

I plucked the frame from the windowsill, inspecting the picture in my two hands. It seemed to uncover a place in my mind—once clouded by disorientation—I’d forgotten. Whether this place was real or imaginary was beyond me, but the fear I felt upon its recollection was incandescently genuine.

“Do you think,” I spoke tentatively, “people can have nightmares while they’re wide awake?” My thumb ran over the crack.

I might have heard him inhale a quiet, sharp breath, but it also could have just been the waves breaking on the distant shore. “Like a flashback?” he asked, an unidentifiable unease in his tone.

“No, not exactly.” I searched my brain for the right words, the right way to tell him how I was feeling, but it was difficult when I could only conjure vague fragments. And it was all I could do to tell it to him elliptically, as I knew saying the words in any other manner would shatter my heart.

“I had this vision,” I began, my words apprehensively staccato, “where I was somewhere else.” My eyes flickered over the picture. “Somewhere… bad. Everything was grey and heavy, and I was alone. Sometimes you were there, but you—you weren’t really you anymore.” I paused and looked up to find him staring at me in the reflection of the window. He looked pained; it was then suddenly hard to recollect a time when he didn’t. My throat started to constrict. “You were gone and…” my voice quietened to a broken wisp of wind, “you were haunting me.”

The room was silent.

He said nothing in response

The transparency of his reflection in the glass was so familiar—so haunting—and it was like another forgotten matter had been dredged from the depths of my mind. Stinging tears brimmed my waterline, and, due to my inability to bear the sight of his translucent appearance, I forced myself to turn around.

I glanced up at him, smiling weakly as I whispered, “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head as if my need to apologise was nonsensical (even I was unsure of what I was apologising for), and he then pulled me into a tight embrace. His chin rested atop my head; my face was buried in his chest, and his arms held me like I was some dilapidated structure that relied on his support to remain upright. Part of me knew this sentiment was correct.

I expected his next words to be ones of consolation or reassurance, maybe an “I’m right here, sweetheart” or an “I’ll never leave you”. Instead, I felt his head turn and heard him say, “Think it’s going to storm?”

With a sniffle, I turned my head towards the window. The arms wrapped around my body tightened as if he somehow knew I would need the extra support. Because when I saw the wall of dark, opaque clouds rolling through the sky towards us, an unshakeable dread zapped through my heart.

My hands clung to the fabric of his cream-white sweater, which then brought to my attention that an inexplicable tingling sensation was spreading down the fingers of my right hand, numbing them.

Lightning flashed on the horizon, and the once serene waves began cresting violently on the shoreline. The dread grew.

Before my attention could drift too far, my name was called again.

I looked up to find those green eyes gazing down at me, swelling with tears. He was crying. Why was he crying? And why was his hair wet? His usually golden strands had darkened to a deep brown and were drenched with cold water that dripped onto my cheeks, and his hair was swept haphazardly across his forehead, a reflection of someone who had just endured an intense storm or had just been fighting for his life against a swarm of—of—

No.

My own eyes began to burn.

“It’s killing me to see you this way,” he spoke, every second word breaking and wavering in volume.

The world seemed to tilt on an axis. Return did the disorientation, ravaging my mind more violently now. “What do you”—My chest was rising and falling with heavy breaths—“What? What do you mean?” My lower lip was quivering, and my eyebrows were scrunched together in confusion. His words replayed in my head: It’s killing me to see you this way.

It’s killing me.

His hair was dripping—no longer with water, but with a thick, red substance that both dripped down and clotted on his skin. He didn’t look pained anymore; he looked like he was in pain.

It’s killing me.

But that can’t be right, can it?

It’s killing me.

Why?

It’s killing me.

Becausemy Finnickwas already dead.

I staggered backwards and out of his, no, this imposter’s arms. He stared at me as blood streamed down his forehead, pouring over his eyelashes and down his cheeks. I was going to be sick. This had to be some sort of cruel joke, a newly invented punishment from Snow. But that wasn’t right either: Snow was dead too.

“F…Fi…” I tried saying his name, my top teeth prodding the inside of my bottom lip, but I couldn’t make a sound.

He took a step towards me, and I almost stumbled onto the floor. “Remember what I told you?” he asked, though it sounded more like an urge.

I frantically shook my head. No, I didn’t remember. I didn’t want to remember anything.

Something dark and mountainous appeared in my peripheral vision, and an odious smell singed my nostrils. My head snapped to the left. Stacks upon stacks of plates and bowls mounded the kitchen sink, each crawling with maggots that were falling to the floor in white, wriggling heaps.

Nausea boiled in my stomach; horror brimmed my eyes.

I quickly turned away, my eyes meeting green again. His face was no longer stained with blood, and his hair was dry, shiny, and golden with life. I was as speechless as my face was drained of blood.

He took one more step toward me, but this time I didn’t back away, either frozen with fear or desperation for one last experience of closeness with him. My heart thrummed as he reached out to cup my face. It isn’t him, it isn’t him, it isn’t him, I repeated madly in my head. Oh, but it felt so much like him when his warm hand met my skin.

“I told you I’m always with you, sweetheart,” he murmured. And I knew engaging with him, in whatever form he took, affirmed my mental unwellness, but I couldn’t stop from leaning into his touch anyway. “Remember that.”

My cheeks were wet with tears. “I love—”

A bolt of lightning flashed, and thunder boomed throughout the house.

I was back in my bed.

My eyelids were heavy with sleep as they fluttered open. I felt detached, destabilised, and unsure of my existence in the world for I wasn’t sure which of the twoI was currently in. Real or fake?

A few minutes went by before I managed to get a grip on reality, which, in fact, was the real one. The Somewhere Bad. I pinched the corners of my eyes, not only finding them damp with fresh tears but also realising that my right hand—previously tucked beneath my head—was numb.

None of it had been real…

The entire time, my body was trying to alert me, to save me from the inescapable heartache I would feel upon waking. He hadn’t held me in his arms. He hadn’t cupped my cheek nor helped me wash the dishes. He wasn’t here. He wasn’t anywhere (not even in his own marked grave because there was nothing left of him to be buried).

Even despite seeing the familiar tall outline standing in the doorway, his features illuminated with each flash of lightning, I knew it wasn’t really him.

Rain was pummelling the roof, almost loud enough to subdue the perpetual rumbling of thunder (apart from the one sky-splitting thunderclap that had woken me). In another time, I would’ve been scared—of the raging storm, of my phantom lover who was watching from the shadows of our bedroom. But not now.

In recent months, I had found that no emotion, not even fear, surpassed the soul-crushing realisation that you have irretrievably lost the one thing you lived for.

On a defeated whim, and for the first time since his death, I let the singular, weighted word breeze past my lips.

“Finnick.”

It was a trembling plea, a desperate beckon.

And he indulged.

His footsteps were silent as he walked towards the bed. I couldn’t see his legs from my position, prompting me to wonder if he even had legs at all. Or did he only have legs when I could see them? That would then insinuate that if I couldn’t see him at all, he didn’t exist.

If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? In my case, the answer was simple: no, it didn’t.

It wasn’t really Finnick. It wasn’t even his ghost. It was my mind.

He reached the bed’s edge, and I scooted over to my side of the mattress, allowing him enough space to lie down on his. His weight neither dipped nor shook the bed as he laid down and turned on his side to face me. His eyes were sad, and I’m sure mine were too. We stared at each other for a long, long time, long enough for my fatigued body to start playing tricks on me.

If I focused hard enough, I thought I could hear the sound of his breathing (the wind was picking up outside), feel the warmth of his skin spreading onto the sheets (the remnants of my own body heat were left behind each time I moved), and smell the musky scent of cologne and sea-salted hair (the sleeves of his sweater were tucked beneath my nose).

Maybe for a moment—just one sickly, self-indulgent moment—I could pretend it was really him.

I inhaled deeply through my nose. “You really weren’t kidding when you said you would haunt the next owner of this house,” I whispered as light-heartedly as I could, my voice obscured by the heavy rain pouring onto the roof.

He smiled, and it was one of the most heart-wrenchingly beautiful things I had ever seen. I think I might have given him one in return, though I couldn’t be too sure because the concept of smiling had become so foreign. The last time I was truly happy was… the last night we spent together. In each other’s arms, safe and warm and together.

And then he was gone. Just like that.

Cressida, whom I had only spoken to once in Thirteen when the war ended, was the one to tell me how it happened. Katniss was too personal, too close to him; Peeta’s instability rendered conversation futile. So, I had asked Cressida to tell me every detail—every expression on his face, every word he screamed. I don’t know why. Maybe it was so I could cling onto those last few minutes where he was still alive and breathing, despite dying and bleeding; or so I could replay the moment over and over in my head, as if somehow, someway, I could change his fate.

“He talked about you all the time,” she had told me. “Actually, I don’t think he ever spoke of anything but you. No one minded, though. While we were out there, no one ever really smiled, but every time your name was mentioned, Finnick would get this great big grin on his face, and it was impossible not to look at him and start smiling as well.

So, we all started asking questions about you: ‘What colour is her hair? Her eyes? Where did you meet? What are her hobbies?’—just to see him smile… A week passed, and it was like we all knew you inside out. It was all we could do to hang on to some shred of happiness, even if it meant talking about a girl who, to all of us, was a stranger.”

I was inconsolable after that.

She kept talking, but my sobs had drowned out most of her words, so much that I had asked her to retell me everything later in the day, despite inducing the same outcome. So, she told it to me again, just as she did the day after that and the day after that and so on until I returned home to District Four.

“He also spoke about how you never felt comfortable living in the Victors Village. He had this idea that the two of you would move somewhere far away, outside the borders of District Four­, though he emphasised remaining by the sea was very important—something about how you looked while swimming during sunset and the water was all sparkly around you.”

At this point, she had been holding my hand, knowing full well how debilitating it was for me to hear. Then she had spoken with a quiet incredulity and a facial expression to match, as though she’d never encountered a love like ours before. “He wanted to build a house for you…”

He wanted to build a house for you.

And now he never would. Our love was too ephemeral for that to happen; destined to remain history; to be a memory.

Finnick's eyes stared into mine, the green hue now a dark grey from the overshadowing dimness of the room.

“I would’ve gone anywhere with you,” I whispered to him, placing my hand on the sheets between us. “I would’ve travelled thousands of miles away from this place. Would’ve lived in solitary, just the two of us, for the rest of our lives.” A warm tear tickled the bridge of my nose. His eyebrows scrunched together in shared anguish. “God, Finn, I miss you,” my voice broke. “I miss you so much.”

I contemplated crying, sobbing, screaming, or begging for him to come back, but I was just too tired. All my energy had been spent on grievance throughout the following day, and my eyes were growing heavier by the second as my body was sinking further into a state of relaxation.

Between slow blinks, I watched Finnick’s large hand move to rest atop my own, and at that point, I knew sleep would soon catch me because I swear I could feel his warm touch.

Images flashed through my mind—incomprehensible and melting together, yet somehow still graspable.

Sky blue water rippling with calm waves, the surface glittering in the setting sun. A white stonewall cottage fronted by soft, white sand and tall palm trees. Two plates of fruit-filled yoghurt and scrambled eggs on toast. Three pairs of footprints in the sand, one larger, one smaller, and another between them so delicately tiny I could fit them into the palm of my hand.

Sea-green eyes above me. Golden hair tangled between my fingers. Finnick standing in the wooden doorway of our white stonewall cottage wearing a cream-white sweater and rolled-up slacks. Finnick grinning deeply and then throwing his head back with laughter. Finnick standing in front of our bed, taking my hand in his and guiding me towards him. Finnick. Finnick. Finnick. Finnick. Finnick.

Finnick holding our child.

I was between worlds now, both indistinguishable from the other. My eyelids were drooping, and I was quickly growing insensate. Just before my eyes closed completely, I saw Finnick’s—he who wasn’t really my Finnick—lips move. It wasn’t in my bleak reality in which I heard him speak, but rather in my mind, and God, did his words offer the sweetest relief.

“I’ll see you when you fall asleep.”

#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair drabble #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair angst #finnick odair fluff #sam claflin #finnick x reader #fiinnick odair x you #finnick x you #finnick imagine #thg finnick #the hunger games #catching fire #mockingjay #the hunger games fanfiction #suzanne collins #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #odesta #everlark #josh hutcherson

[eyrina-avatar]

Fulfilled

synopsis: based on this request. Neteyam finds reader's diary full of fantasies that she wants to fulfill with him.

pairings: neteyam x reader (avatar reader) aged up ofc

author's note: I tweaked it just a bit but it's still what anon requested. This was sitting in my drafts for like a month since I was so busy. But I finally finished it! Hope the anon who made the request likes this.

warnings: 18+, MDNI, extremely heavy smut such as fingering, squirting, and creampie. proofread once, I was rushing to get this out of my drafts already. Lmk if you see any errors that need to be fixed asap lol

word count: ~6.8k this is a long one (I think my longest ever, I could have divided this into two chapters and even thought about it)- you've been warned

"Ugh, what a long day," you groaned as you hung your legs off the edge of the link unit.

"I honestly don't know how Grace used to manage being in charge of the kid's school plus do research and be so involved with the clan..." Norm trailed off as he yawned.

"And while hiding her findings from the RDA" You added.

"Probably by getting some proper rest. Which is what you two need." Max pitched in, as he handed you the back roller.

"God, that feels so good. What a relief." You sighed as you massaged your back, trying to reach all the sore spots.

"I can help with that!" Neteyam's voice hit your ears and you turned around in shock.

"What are you doing here, I though you were asleep in the tent?" You questioned.

"Yea well, you fell asleep meaning I would have to wait for you in the morning and I wasn't really feeling tired enough to go to bed yet." He responded as he took the roller from your hand and started massaging your middle back making you groan in relief.

"Yea, that's the spot..." you closed your eyes in bliss let out a small "mmm" sound, making you earn looks from Norm and Max.

"Jesus you two, get a room before this gets out of hand." Norm commented as he got up from his link unit, making Neteyam stop his movements.

"Wh-what? No, no. It's not what it looks like. Haven't you guys ever gotten a nice back massage after doing some strenuous activity?" Your cheeks flushed red in your flustered state, thinking about the possibility of ever doing it with Neteyam.

"Yea, but not as strenuous at what you and Neteyam will be doing later if you guys keep this up." Norm rolled his eyes.

"What?" Neteyam's tail stood up in shock and his ears flickered in embarrassment.

"Ha, it's not like they would bother us here anyways, they have the whole forest to go at it." Max chuckled.

"Max!" You and Neteyam yelled in unison, shocked at the words that came out of the usually calm scientist's mouth.

"What, just helping you guys out." He shrugged.

"That type of help is not needed!" You insisted as you crossed your arms.

"Whatever, as long as you two don't start interrupting anyone." Norm added in as he made his way to the shower

"Look who's talking. What I heard from Jake is that apparently Norm and Trudy were often going at it in the shared rooms." Max let out.

"That's none of you guys' business!" Norm stopped in his tracks to comment.

"Well, you sure were making it everyone's business!" Max rebutted, making everyone break out into fits of laughter.

"Woah, Norm!" You let out a giggle

"Maybe that's why he's so uptight, he hasn't been getting any action lately." Neteyam whispered.

"I heard that!" Norm made known before walking away.

"Anyways, I better go get freshened up as well, I'm a bit sweaty right now. Tell one of the repair guys that the cooling system in that unit isn't working so well." You said before placing a "down for repairs" sign on the link unit.

"Will do." Max nodded as you and Neteyam headed out of the lab and into the residency hallway.

"So, I guess I'll be going then if you're just headed to clean up." Neteyam scratched the back of his neck, still a bit flustered from Max and Norm's comments.

"What? No, I have my own room, remember? And my room has it's own shower as well, so I won't have to leave you waiting outside of some random hall. Come, come." You tugged at his arm and he followed you to your room.

"So, this is it!" You walked in and turned the lights on, closing the door behind Neteyam.

"Oh, you did some remodeling since last time?"

"Yup, I wanted to add some life to it so I added in some potted plants around the room plus some that glow in the dark, to add a 'nature-y' touch."

"Not bad. 'Nature-y' touch accomplished." Neteyam looked at the plants, curious to see how the glow would look in your room."

"Oh, let's turn the lights off!" You suggested before flicking the switch.

"Ohh that's nice, it almost looks like the forest in here!" Neteyam marveled while examining all of the colors in your room.

"Yup!" You flicked the light back on. "I just wish I could have added some vines along the window to add some greenery. That's just the finishing touch that it needs." You sighed as you looked around your room.

"Well, why haven't you? There's plenty of vines for you to collect." Neteyam cocked his head in question.

"I have plenty, it's just that I couldn't reach the spot on the wall where I wanted to attach them to. It's too high."

"Nonsense, I'll help you out. See, I can reach just fine." Neteyam stated, happy to lend you a helping hand.

"Thanks, I really appreciate that." You gave a smile and headed to your drawers as you looked for the measuring tape. "Nete, can you please get the vines? They're in my closet over there . The light switch is on the right side, and please close the door while you're at it. I have a automatic dehumidifier in there and I don't want it to start puffing extra hard and using up all of it's charge.

"Sure, sure. I'll get it, and um close the door as well. All of that..." Neteyam made his way to your closet and turned the light on. His hands rummaged through some of your clothes on the hangers and flipped through the ones folded in your drawers but couldn't find the vines.

Crap, forgot to ask her where in the closet they're at, he thought to himself. His eyes scanned the small room and landed on a few boxes stacked on the left side of the floor and one labeled 'room decorations.'

Perfect, probably in there.

He pulled the box out but three more came tumbling down as well. Neteyam hurried to clean up the mess and as his hands scrambled to put everything away, his eyes landed on a small book that landed open and face down. He carefully picked the book up and saw no words on it's cover so he decided to take a peak inside, wondering if it could be filled with your findings and experiments.

He brought the book up to his face and scrunched his eyes as he read the words on the page.

journal entry #105 not much happened today I took more lessons with Moa't and with the help of Kiri, I was able to successfully create a healing balm that was very effective in preventing infection and swelling. The main ingredient was yalna bark. Kiri found it and suggested that we should use it. Also, I took some weaving lessons with Neytiri and she said I was improving quickly. I was able to make my own top with my favorite blue and purple leaves. I later used the top while Neteyam took me to hunt some fish. I saw Neteyam staring so I think it accentuated my features well. I'll definitely be wearing it again since he complimented me and said I looked nice. Anyways, the fishing went well and Neteyam will give me more lessons tomorrow, but I hope I'll be able to concentrate. My feelings for him have been making me even more flustered lately. It doesn't help that he's so handsome. I caught myself staring at him by mistake, hopefully he didn't notice. I definitely don't want him to think that i'm some sort of weirdo.

"Neteyam, are you alright in there?" The sound of your voice snapped Neteyam out of concentration and he hurried to place the book back in the box. He grabbed the box containing the vines and hurried out.

"Gee, what took you so long? Did you get lost in there?" You chuckled.

"Sorry, I was getting the box that the vines were in and knocked down the others in the process so I had to clean up." Neteyam carefully handed you the vines and you untangled them.

"Just start at that corner of the wall and continue all the way around the room, okay?" You asked

"Got it," he nodded.

"Good. I'll go take a shower and by the time I'm done, you should be done as well." You grabbed your towel and headed towards your bathroom. "Oh, by the way, you can put any excess vines along the bottom of the wall, all around the room like the other ones!" You slipped into your bathroom and closed the door.

Neteyam quickly got to work unraveling the vines and hanging them up. By the time he was done, he heard the sound of the water turning off and the shower curtain sliding across the rail.

"Nete, can you please pass me the purple bag? It's in the closet. ." You asked as you hid your body behind the bathroom door.

"Sure," he headed off to retrieve the item for you.

"Thanks, I shouldn't be done for another 10 minutes as I'm doing a hair treatment. If you're done you can go ahead and look around my room if you want." You slipped back into the bathroom.

"Um, alright." Neteyam decided it would be best if he put the supplies back where they belonged and headed back to your closet, putting everything away. Unfortunately the words in your journal wouldn't leave him alone and he decided to take another peak.

One look shouldn't hurt, right? Plus, she told me I could look around.

Neteyam opened the box again and took your journal out. He flipped through the pages until he was met with the most recent entry:

journal entry #119 My skills have improved a lot and Neteyam says I'm one of the best hunters in the clan. In fact, I went hunting with Neteyam again and god, I had a really hard time controlling myself. His charm is so enticing and yet his personality so kind, in fact he makes me so flustered and shy sometimes. But god, his body is so hot?! Honestly, I wouldn't even mind if we banged. Of course I like him for his personality... but he's super attractive too. Gosh, I would let him do anything to me. Anything. And I mean it. I would be so lucky if I would somehow be able to get him to use his fingers on me, or better worded, in me. His dick too, I wouldn't mind. I know it's so big, I just know it, I know. I could bet all the meat from last week’s hunt that it's enormous. Probably a good 9-10 inches... I don't know if that would even fit inside of me, but I'm willing to find out.

Neteyam felt his cheeks burn up at the words he just read as his ears flickered while his tail swished back and forth in excitement.

She likes me back? In fact she likes me back so much she actually wants me to...fuck her?

Neteyam slammed the little book shut and shoved it back in the box. He knew everything he needed to know about it and was going to have the time of his life with the newly learned information. He cleared his throat and got himself together, trying to feel normal, as if he hadn't just finished snooping around his best friend's personal and private writings.

He stepped out and closed the door behind him.

"Gee, you sure took a while in there," you chuckled while combing your hair.

"Well, I was uh, putting some of the supplies away."

"Not bad, the vines came out looking nice! Thanks a lot" You exclaimed.

"No problem," Neteyam smiled nervously, worried if you would find out that he was snooping through your things.

"Hmm, a job like this deserves a little reward." You made your way over to him and flashed a warm smile. Neteyam's tail once again swished back and forth in excitement.

"What type of reward?" He asked, hoping that you would perhaps act on what you had written about.

"Ice cream!" You turned around and headed to your mini freezer.

"Oh" Neteyam murmured under his breath and his ears drooped down.

"Here, one scoop of strawberry and another one of yovo fruit. I made that one myself. I wanted to try something new!" You smiled as you handed him his bowl and spoon but stopped as soon as you saw his face.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing. Thank you, I really like ice cream. I've only had it once or twice." Neteyam tried to come up with any excuse for his disppointed reaction.

"Oh I see, you wanted a different flavor...Well, there's vanilla too but that's kinda plain."

"No, no it's fine. I really do like these flavors. I was just thinking that maybe Tuk would have liked to taste these." Neteyam reassured and began eating.

"It's fine, I have some more saved. She'll be able to taste them as soon as Kiri brings her along to the avatar compound. You know she like's to visit Grace at least once a week" You plopped yourself on your bed and joined him. His tail began swaying left and right as he thought about a new idea.

"So, any plans for tomorrow?" Neteyam questioned.

"Nah, maybe just chill and take it easy, you know what I mean?" You looked up at him and saw how his eyes glimmered with excitement.

"Oh, then maybe you and I can hang out tomorrow. You know, just us, have some space to spend some alone time with each other. Friends always need some time to hang out with each other, right?" He gave your smaller figure a light nudge.

"Right, friends..." Your face dropped at that word and you simply sighed as you continued eating your ice cream.

"Well, it's definitely getting late now. I'm heading back to home tree to get some rest for the morning. I'll see you in the morning, alright?" Neteyam patted your head as he headed out the door and you simply nodded.

"And thanks for the ice cream, it was great. I won't tell Lo'ak though or he'll get jealous, you know how he is. Good night!"

"Good night..." you waved back and sighed, flinging your ice cream into the trash. Too disappointed to do anything else, you threw yourself on your bed and decided to get some sleep.

~~~~~

You woke up early, and with the view of a pink hue illuminating the sky, it was barely dawn and you knew that some of the omaticaya were already awake but the Sully's were probably all asleep as a rock.

You decided to bring your avatar form into the avatar facility and you quietly made your way around into the laboratory as slid into a link unit and was awakened by the sound of Lo'ak snoring in the next tent.

What a nuisance, glad I was able to sleep somewhere else last night.

You quietly made your way out of the tent, careful not to wake anyone else. Cautious with your foot placement, you made it out of home tree and to the spot where you usually meet with your ikran.

With a quick call, your ikran came flapping towards you, and you swiftly boarded it and made way to the avatar compound.

"Mawey, Ira." You petted your ikran to calm her screeching and made way into one of the buildings, past the laboratory and into your room.

Ahh, some peace and quiet. Maybe I'll just relax and give myself a spa day or something. You thought to yourself as you massaged the bottom of your feet that were still a bit sore from all of the hunting and running you've been doing.

Still thinking of the events from last night, you sighed and threw yourself back on the bed, not sure of what to make from the situation.

Does Neteyam really feel the same about me?

Should I ask him out or is that too forward?

Or should I just wait for him to ask me out?

The questions filled your mind and started to make your head pound. You decided that it was probably best if you just took a small break from your emotions and just distract yourself until your mind felt more refreshed and you could think more logical.

Heading towards your table, you grabbed a small tablet where you had recorded data about some plant samples and decided to work on that.

~~~~~

"Has anyone seen y/n?" Neteyam searched around his tent, dumbfounded with where you could have possibly gone without telling him or even waking him up.

"I saw her leave the tent this morning." Kiri commented, not even looking up as she peeled some of the fruit she was preparing for breakfast.

"You saw her? Where'd she go?!" Neteyam questioned his younger sister.

"I don't know. I'm not as nosy as you. Maybe to the avatar compound or something." She shrugged.

"What if she's in danger or something. What if she got lost?!" Neteyam stood up, getting ready to go after you.

"And where are you going without eating?" Neytiri pointed to a spot next to Lo'ak.

"Ha! Guess you can't go looking for your crush right now." The younger brother teased.

"Shut up."

"Don't worry, she's not like Lo'ak. She can actually fend for herself so I'm sure she's fine." Kiri reassured

"Hey!" Lo'ak let out in a protest.

"She knows the forest like the back of her hand. Plus didn't you say she was a pretty good hunter?" Kiri popped the fruit into her mouth and waited for her brother's response.

"Yea, but-"

"Then she'll be fine." Jake reassured as he let out a yawn, still groggy from his sleep.

"I just don't understand why she would go out without telling me. She seemed fine last night." Neteyam sighed

"Oooooh, you were with her last night?" Lo'ak wiggled his eyebrows.

"Yea, and we had ice cream, without you."

"What, that's not fair. She promised she'd save some for me." Lo'ak crossed his arms in disapproval.

"She did save some." Neteyam took a bite out of his fruit and watched as Lo'ak's tail swished back and forth in excitement.

"But not for you." He swallowed his food and let out a smirk as he watched Lo'ak's tail come to a halt.

"Whatever, screw you! She's probably pissed and you deserve it. Y/n is always going out into the forest with someone, so to not even wake you up is a bad sign. You probably did something to upset her." Lo'ak spit out in retaliation.

"What? What did I do?" Neteyam put his fruit down as he tried to process the information just given to him.

"Maybe more like what didn't you do..." Kiri murmured.

"Huh?"

"Probably nothing, you know how women are." Jake reassured his eldest son. "But umm, not Neytiri. She's always been wonderful to me. Anytime she was upset was because I deserved it." Jake chuckled nervously, saving himself as he remembered that his wife was sitting right next to him but still earning a light hiss from her.

"Yea, probably nothing..." Neteyam tried to calm his nerves. "After all, she was fine last night." He added.

"Skxawng!" Kiri knocked her brother over the head.

"Ow! What the heck was that for?"

"For being a skxawng, I just told you!"

"What?"

"She likes you. Do I really have to spell it out for you?" Kiri rolled her eyes.

"I know that-"

"You see!" Kiri gave her brother a smack on the arm.

"Stop hitting me! You see what?" Neteyam cocked his head in question.

"You know that she likes you and you haven't even asked her out! That's what!"

"I only found out last night. What was I supposed to do..." Neteyam trailed his words.

"Oh great mother. Even worse! She told you and you didn't do anything about it?" Kiri stared in disbelief.

"She didn't tell me, I found out a different way."

"Norm told you? Max?" Lo'ak pried.

"No..."

"Then how did you find out?" Lo'ak questioned.

"Mind your own business," was all that was given as an answer.

"Well, honestly, you've sorta been giving her mixed signals so she's probably confused on wether you like her or not. Maybe she went back to the avatar compound by herself to clear her mind for a bit." Kiri let out, not wanting to make Neteyam too nervous.

"Oh. What should I do?" Neteyam shook his head in question, unsure of what to do in order to fix the mess he made.

"Aww, the mighty warrior doesn't know how to approach his crush." Lo'ak let out a chuckled.

"Enough." Neytiri warned, quieting the younger boy.

"Just say you're sorry for not realizing earlier and then just ask her out. Or be more direct and say that you like her." Jake stood up and handed his bowl to Neytiri. "Good luck." He tapped Neteyam on the shoulder and made his way to the center of home tree.

~~~~~

You slid out of your chair and got up, stretching your back in the process.

God that was tiresome, but I'm glad to get that out of the way.

Deciding on a break, you headed out of your room and towards the shared lounging area. Grabbing a yogurt pack from the refrigerator, you made your way back to into your room and sat yourself down. Scooping the spoon into the cup, you were about to bring it into your mouth before hearing a knock.

"Coming!" You sighed before putting your food down and making your way towards your bedroom door.

"Norm, I told you I'm not going to be doing anymore experiments this week. I'm still putting together all of the data we collected from the last-" you opened the door to your surprise.

"Well, I'm not asking you to do any experiments. Can I come in?" Neteyam flashed a smile.

"Oh!"

"Soooo?"

"Sure, sure. Of course, come in!" You flashed a warm smiled as you closed the door behind Neteyam.

"I was wondering where you went. You know, since I told you last night that I would see you in the morning but then you left home tree without telling anyone."

"Sorry, I just felt like I needed to clear my head a bit from, um stuff..." you trailed off and much to Neteyam's surprise, Kiri was right.

"Sorry, maybe I was interrupting your personal time. I can leave if you wanted to be left alone."

"No, no! It's fine." You grabbed Neteyam's arm and pulled a chair out for him.

"I've had plenty of time to clear my head and bring my thoughts together and feel less stressed...about things. You know how life is..." You let out a nervous chuckle, not wanting to give any hints on what you were so worried about.

"Sit down, make yourself comfortable."

"Actually..." Neteyam stayed standing up. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Oh. well… go ahead!"

"Well, actually... I wanted to apologize to you." Neteyam let out in a low voice

"I'm sorry, what?" You tilted your head in confusion at what you just heard. "Apologize for what?"

"Perhaps I've been a bit of a skxawng. Or maybe a complete skxawng. I didn't realize but I was giving you mixed signals. I should have realized sooner and I completely apologize for that. You probably thought I was toying with your feelings. I understand why you were upset with me this morning"

"I-" Your mouth was left agape, not sure of what to say.

"No, I get it. I should have told you sooner. I know that you like me and to be honest, I like you too. In fact, I'm completely enamored by you and should have acted on that earlier instead of leaving you confused. Can you... forgive me?" Neteyam nervously scratched the back of his neck, unsure of what your response would be.

"Neteyam...truth be told, I don't even know what to say. I suppose I forgive you. It wasn't really your fault, how were you supposed to know earlier? Maybe I should have been more bold. I don't know... It's quite alright," you let out a small chuckle. "There's really nothing to be sorry about. In fact, I wasn't mad with you this morning. I just left hometree to clear my mind on this whole situation. It's actually quite silly how flustered you make me feel sometimes. I was just a bit disappointed that last night you said we should hang out today as friends when honestly, I hate that word, friend. I don't want to just be your silly little friend, I want to be more. More than friends..." you trailed off as you looked down at the floor, too embarrassed to look at the na'vi in front of you.

Neteyam brought his hand up to your face and tilted your chin up, "Don't be shy, it's fine. You're quite cute when you're flustered, you know?" He let out a small chuckle. "I probably shouldn't have used that stupid word, friend. But I hope you don't mind it being used in the context of being my girlfriend? What do you think?" He tilted his head, waiting for your response.

"You want me to be your girlfriend?" You shyly smiled as you fiddled with your fingers.

"Why not? Girlfriend, lover, or mate? How's that?" Neteyam let with a small smirk.

"M-mate? That includes getting mated and-" you cut yourself off before you could explain the full details.

"Hmm, why not? I'm interested in you and you're interested in me. Plus, I think you're not as innocent as you make yourself out to be." Neteyam raised his eyebrow and inched himself closer to you.

"Why would you think that...I've never done that with anyone before..." you trailed your words and inched backwards.

"Still doesn't mean that pretty little head of yours isn't in the gutter." Neteyam stepped closer.

"Yea, and what proof do you have of that?" You smirked, cockiness filling your head.

"Hmm let's see, I found a book in your closet and maybe read a few pages."

"Pff, oh yea? And what did it look like?" you jokingly rolled your eyes at him.

"Well, in fact it wasn't one of those biology books. It was a small little book, no title on it. It had a brown leather cover and it was just full of your writing. Sound familiar?" Your eyes widened at the description and your mouth fell open, shocked at the realization.

"What, surprised?" Neteyam let out a small chuckle as he continued inching closer to you until your back hit the wall.

"I- I don't know what you're talking about." You huffed out, trying to sound confident.

"I think you know what I'm talking about. In fact, you're even wearing that pretty little top of yours that you said accentuated your features. It does, and you're right, I couldn't help but stare when you wore it the other day. Not my fault anything you wear makes you look so pretty." Neteyam's fingers played with the string of your top, gently passing over the knot on your back that was holding it together.

Between admitting to reading your journal and staring, Neteyam’s words had turned you into a flustered mess.

“Well, who told you that you could read my journal?!” You spat out, trying to get the upper hand.

“Hmm, let’s see. If I remember correctly, you did tell me that I could look around your room.” Neteyam shrugged.

“Yeah but my journal is private!” You retaliated.

“Oh really? I didn’t see any sign on it that said ‘private/ no trespassing’ or ‘y/n’s journal, don’t touch.’ Seems like you were missing a sign. Can’t blame me.”

“Why, y- you. You perv!” You lashed out defeatedly, not knowing how else to react.

“Really, I’m the perv? I wasn’t the one writing all of my fantasies about wanting to get banged.”

“I…” you dropped your head in shame, once again too embarrassed to face Neteyam.

“Hmm, thought so.” He let out a small chuckle as he raised your chin up again. “So, do you really think I’m handsome?” He looked at you seriously before giving you a slight smirk.

“Well, you read it! No need to tease me about it” you gave his chest a slight push.

“Teasing, who’s doing any teasing? I’m just trying to test the waters to see if you’re really up to doing what you mentioned.”

“Oh-”

“So, are you?” Neteyam inched his face closer to yours.

“Are you what?”

“C’mon don’t try to play dumb. Do you want to do what you mentioned or what?” His lips hovered over yours as he trailed his hands over your waist and behind your back, pulling you in closer.

“I-”

“What’s wrong sweetheart, cat got your tongue?” Neteyam let out a small chuckle before looking you in the eyes and giving a ‘so?’ look.

You simply nodded, too flustered to say anything.

“Words, babygirl. Words.” He pushed your hair out of your face and caressed your cheek. “Would you like to try what you wrote about?”

“Yes…” you whispered in a barely understandable tone.

“Don’t worry, we’ll take it nice and slow. How’s that for you, sound good?” Again, you nodded, giving Neteyam the green light to go ahead.

His eyes fell to your lips and yours on his. Each just a few centimeters away from the other. You leaned in and yours just gently brushed against his. Neteyam’s arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you in during the process, lips making contact for the first time. You let out a small gasp and his came crashing down on yours again, pushing your head back to the wall as you wrapped your arms around his neck. His lips moved in pace and you followed along, inexperienced but quickly catching on. Your hands traveled up and down his neck and Neteyam let out a small groan as you gave a slight tug on his hair. Hands started moving quickly as you found yours on his chest, traveling up and down and his on your back. His lips took a turn and started making his way down, leaving small pecks all over your collarbone and eventually moving to your neck, where his mouth left a wet trail wherever it could.

“Mmm, Nete-” you let out a moan as his lips sucked on your sweet spot making your body fidget in his hold. His lips traveled up your neck and you were sure you were going to have a few bruises for show.

“Neteyam, you’re gonna leave hickeys all over my neck.” You barely managed to breathe out.

“I know… that’s my plan,” he let out in between kisses. “…to mark you… As mine… all mine.” He held onto you and made his way to your bed, not letting go for a thing in the world. Neteyam sat down and had you on his lap facing him, your legs straddling him while he continued to make his mess.

You lifted his face and kissed his lips again, desperate to be able to do some of the action yourself, you pushed his chest, making him inch backwards as you crawled to him, lips still connected to his.

You sat up and his fingers started toying with the knot from your loincloth, still not stopping the kiss as he worked his hands behind your waist.

Neteyam's fingers worked quickly as he untied the knot and slid off the loincloth from under your womanhood. He lifted you off of his lap and placed your back on the bed while he laid next to you, his hands roamed over your body and made their way to your core. Neteyam gently massaged your nub, earning an erotic moan from you. He took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth as he used his hand to spread your legs wider and brush his fingers over your clit, speeding up as the kiss grew more heated with each passing second.

"Oh.. fuck" you managed out as your hands fell on his, guiding him to a quicker speed.

"Mmm, you like that don't you, sweetheart?" Neteyam let out a smirk as you nodded a desperate 'yes' a your eyes scrunched closed. His hands made their way down to your entrance and he inserted a finger, making you groan in response.

"Fuck..." you groaned as Neteyam stretched you out, making way for his other fingers.

"If I remember reading correctly, you did write that you would be grateful even if you could have just my fingers inside of you. How's that coming out to be?" Neteyam smirked as you moan out a 'good.'

"More, please" you whined out as you attempted to close your legs to gain more friction.

"I can't give you more if you don't open your legs for me. My hands are trapped between your thighs right now syulang." Neteyam's hand moved up to pry your legs open, and you sighed at the slight loss of friction.

"No need to worry, your wish is my command sweetheart." And with that he inserted his second and third fingers without warning. Deep inside of your warmth, he moved his fingers in and out, making sure to hit all the spots of your wet walls.

"Shit....shit! Go faster!" you moaned out in a high pitched voice, convinced that if it weren't for the oxygen sealed doors and windows soundproofing your room, all of the scientists would have been raising their eyebrows by now.

"How's that? Enjoying it?" Neteyam managed out between kisses.

"Fuck yes!" you threw your head back in pleasure as you felt yourself nearing your orgasm.

Neteyams worked his magic in you, sparing your poor pussy no mercy as his fingers pumped in and out while his thumb played with your nub at an increasingly quick pace causing your eyes to cross for a split second as you covered your mouth as to not scream. Holding yourself up with your elbows, you watched as the Na'vi in front of you worked tirelessly to get you to explode.

"Neteyam! I'm getting close... I'm- I'm gonna..." You threw head back once more as your knuckles turned white from grabbing the bed sheets.

"Come! Fucking do it baby, I know it's in you!" Neteyam accelerated his pace as his fingers moved vigorously in and out of you, repeatedly hitting your g-spot.

"Ah- ahh... fuuuck" You let out a loud whine as your hips buck up and down while your orgasm washed over you. Your eyes close tightly making you see stars and your mouth falls agape as low whimpers leave your throat.

"Nghh.. oh my god.." you squeal out under his touch before he slows down and pulls his fingers out. Neteyam lifts up his hand and brings it up to your face, drenched fingers brush across your lips as you open your mouth and give a thorough suck.

"Mmm, that's a good girl" Neteyam praises as you swirl your tongue around his fingers, licking them clean of any residue. With a 'pop' sound, he pulls his fingers from between your lips and you sit up, looking at him with your big yellow eyes as you tug on his loincloth.

"Ready for round two, already?" You give a small nod and Neteyam lays you on your side and props your right leg up.

He positions himself behind you as your hands work beside you, helping untie his loincloth. Springing out, his length smacks your ass and Neteyam lets out a small sigh of relief. He spits on his hand before making it down between his legs and giving himself a few pumps.

Neteyam brushes his cock against your slick cunt, earning a light moan from you as he rubs it around your entrance.

"You ready sweetheart? I'll go nice and slow for you." Neteyam gives a small peck on your lips before you answer with a small 'yes.' He lines himself up with your entrance and pushes his mushroomy tip in, slowly driving his full length inside of you.

"Nghh.." was all you managed to let out before he asks 'are you okay' and you give a small nod. His dick goes all the way in and you can feel his tip against your cervix.

"Fuck, you're so big..." you squirm yourself around as you try to get used to the new feeling.

"You said you wanted to try it." Neteyam lets out a small chuckle at your struggle. "Ready?" He asks, making sure that you're all stretched out before moving."

"Of course," and with that, he pulls himself out completely before thrusting in with full force, making you yelp in surprise. Neteyam starts thrusting in and out of you, filling the room with sounds of skin smacking against each other.

"Shit" he groans out, untying your top as he continues smacking himself into you. Neteyam grabs your breast in his hand and starts sucking as his hips pick up in pace, making you moan aloud.

"Fuckk...fuckk"

"Enjoying that, princes?"

"Yes. I love it so much!" you whine out as his dick hits against your cervix, making you shut your eyes in pain and pleasure. You can't help but tighten around him as he plays with your breast and his lips leave a trail of kisses on the back of your neck.

"Fuckkk, too big!" you let out in almost a scream before he wraps his hand around your neck, applying just a small amount of pressure.

"y/n, stop that... you're gonna make me spill inside of you if you keep squeezing yourself around me like that." Neteyam warned with a light smack on your botton.

"I can't...help it... You fuck me so good!" You let out in between breaths. Neteyam pounds himself into you, making you whine out incoherent nonsense and you can't help but tighten your walls again.

"Fuck...fuck!" Neteyam grits between his teeth and you can tell he's near his high as his hips start moving desperately.

"I *thrust* think *thrust* I'm *thrust* gonna *thrust* come!" Neteyam lets out in a groan before you feel his hot cum spill all over your insides making you moan at the feeling. His white juices overflow your insides and soon spill out, dripping down to underside of your legs.

"Mmm, princess, you look so fucking good with your pretty little hole filled up like that." Neteyam goes back to kissing the sides of your neck and once again, his fingers start playing with your insides while you play with his length in your hands, trying to harden him up again.

"Shit," he huffs out in sensitivity as your finger plays with the tip of his cock, swiping it over and over again.

"Alright let me finish you up, I've got this." Neteyam gives your thigh a light pat and you let go of him, letting him take control of his length and bringing it to you entrance again.

He thrusts into you without warning and you yelp out. His thrusts continue roughly, not giving you time to adjust. Neteyam hits your insides repeatedly and it makes you whimper in pleasure.

"Ah- ah! Neteyam... I'm close!" You let out in between whimpers as your hands search for anything to grab onto while your orgasm approaches.

"Mmm....fuck. Good, you're almost there sweetheart" Neteyam grunts out as his hips continue pushing into your rear.

"I'm gonna- I think... I'm gonna come!" You let out in a loud whine and Neteyam pulls out before pushing himself back in completely, causing you to moan aloud as your orgasm hits you, making your back arch and your legs tremble as you grab onto him while you squirm around as Neteyam pounds into you as fast as he can.

He pulls out, leaving you to squirt your juices all over your legs and on the bed. Your hips heave up and down as the clear liquid jets out of you, leaving you breathless until your high calms down and your legs stop shaking.

"Holy shit..." Neteyam lets out in a small chuckle as he stares in amazement.

"Well... that was intense" you break the silence and the both of you stare at each other before breaking out into small giggles.

"Are you alright, was I too rough with you?" Neteyam gently rubs your shoulders as the both of you lay down, flat on your backs, exhausted.

"No... you were fine. It was good." You flash him a shy smile.

"So, was it everything you expected... or did you I let you down?" He asks with a small chuckle.

"It was... interesting... definitely better than I expected." You chuckle as you lay your head in the crook of his neck.

"So I guess we can say... your wish has been fulfilled." Neteyam pokes your cheek, teasing you.

"I guess so..." you hide your blushing cheeks on his collarbone as he laughs at your shy antics. He slightly lifts up your face and gives you a small peck on your forehead as the both of you bask in each other's warmth.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

HEW, did this take FOREVER to write, OMG! But I'm so glad that I finally got it out! Thank you for this wonderful and super fun request, it was definitely a hell of a journey to write but I really enjoyed it! Hope you guys enjoyed it as well.

as always, comments/reblogs are always much appreciated as they help support and motivate your favorite writers, thank you❤!

do not steal my work and please don't post it on ao3 or wattpad

© eyrina-avatar

colors used: (1, 219, 250) and (1, 179, 204,)

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[s-brant]

Sweet Peach

An inside joke started by Eddie turns into torment for Steve when his girlfriend, Y/N, joins in on it. On a night out with their friends, his long-buried frustration comes to a head.

13k (18+)

Warnings: smut, thigh-riding, unprotected sex, public sex, daddy kink, exhibitionism, breeding kink if you squint, substance use, and strong language.

There are a lot of things Steve loves about his friends.

The first of which is that they are loyal. Not the standard type of loyal either, they're the die-for-each-other type of loyal. From slaying inter-dimensional monsters together to trying to pass finals, they have gotten each other through many arduous trials. Having each other's backs isn't even a question at this point.

The second thing he loves about his friends is their ability to turn any lame Tuesday afternoon into the night of their lives. It doesn't matter what they have to do in the morning, or that there isn't much to do in Hawkins in the middle of the work week, they find a way to liven the dull town and paint the greyscale world around them in technicolor.

Growing up being the infamous King Steve who ran with a group of vapid popular kids, he didn't know what true friendship was until he found Nancy, Robin, Eddie, Y/N, and the kids. His weekends used to be spent drinking at lame parties until his loneliness inevitably set in once he returned to his empty home, or meandering around with Tommy and Carol in utter boredom looking for something to occupy them. Now, every day is a new adventure. Whether that adventure is being Dustin Henderson's personal chauffeur or watching Robin and Eddie get high while he and Y/N swim in his pool, it's a better time than any he spent with his old friends.

His third favorite thing about his friends is their collective, almost hive-mind sense of humor. The layers of their inside jokes know no bounds, and while he appreciates it ninety-nine percent of the time, right now, he wishes he could wipe their memory for the sake of ending his torment.

It started over a month ago with a conversation they were having while the kids were piled up in the backseat of Steve's BMW with Robin and Eddie squirming underneath the gaggle of bony-limbed teens that were sitting on them. Somehow, Will, Max, and Dustin all managed to squeeze in on top of them. It wasn't safe by any means. The only people wearing seatbelts back there were Robin, Eddie, and Max, and the lack of safety was what sparked the new inside joke in the first place.

The younger teens dove into the backseat before Steve could yell that there weren't enough seats. He had expected Dustin alone, but when they pulled up in front of the Henderson residence, two more little nerds came running out after him.

"Hey! No, absolutely not, I'm not starting this car until you guys are wearing seatbelts," Steve said in the same stern but shrill tone often used to yell at the kids. "Will and Max, get out and trade with Robin and Eddie. You two can sit on their laps. You"—he was turned in his seat to point at Dustin—"bike to Mike's house."

Dustin scoffed.

"That's not fair. Why can't Y/N just sit on my lap?"

As he was mouthing off, Max and Will were already opening one of the doors and leaving the car as per his request, waiting for their older friends to unbuckle their seatbelts in order for them to switch. However, Dustin wasn't getting off of Eddie's lap until he made a decent effort in getting his way.

"Uh, because I'm not gonna let my girlfriend ride without a seatbelt. Duh. Precious cargo, Henderson," Steve said as if it were a fact as obvious as the sky being blue and grass being green.

The sound of Eddie and Robin yelling out an offended, "Hey!" in unison at his lack of care for their safety in comparison to hers fell on deaf ears. He was too preoccupied with scolding his favorite child to acknowledge them. All the while, Y/N watched the interaction from the passenger's seat with a soft smile and a blush creeping up her face to the tips of her ears at his "precious cargo" comment. The contact of the hand he already had placed on her thigh from across the center console could've burned a hole right through the denim fabric of her Levi's. His hands were always warm.

"But—"

Steve didn't give him the chance to continue his protests.

"No buts," he said, "Go."

The younger boy rolled his eyes and retorted, "Okay, dad," with a lethal dose of condescension laced in the second word for emphasis. Everyone else, both inside and outside of the vehicle, let out laughs at the snarky jab that snuffed out the gentle hum of Captain and Tennille playing from the radio.

Within the fumbling process of everyone getting out and rearranging their places in the car while Dustin watched from the curb in annoyance, they all began to build on his comment.

It was Will who said, "You know, you really do act like a dad. You should swap this thing out for a minivan so everyone can fit."

The smile on Y/N's face only grew as she listened to the interaction and watched Steve exaggerate an eye roll in her peripheral vision.

"I second that!" Dustin chimed in with a raised hand.

A seatbelt clicked into place behind them, and it ended up being Max, settled between Eddie and Robin who were motioning for Will to sit down with his legs stretched out across all of their laps, who spoke up next in outrage.

"No way! Are you insane? This car is way too cool to trade it for a minivan."

The hand that wasn't resting on her thigh raised to gesture back at Max as he spoke matter-of-factory to Dustin through the rolled-down window, "And that is why she's my favorite. She's funny, she listens to me when I say to switch seats, and she doesn't tell me to abandon Phoebe for an ugly minivan."

He and Y/N named his beloved BMW passed down to him from his dad Phoebe after seeing Fast Times at Ridgemont High together and mutually decided that Phoebe Cates was the hottest girl they'd ever seen. Thus, the hottest car in existence, in Steve's biased opinion, had a fitting name.

"Aren't parents not supposed to have favorite kids?" Eddie asked, then shifted to a teasing tone of voice, "That's kinda fucked up, daddy."

The chorus of giggles that erupted through the car drew a reluctant smile from him that he fought with every fiber of his being. Y/N watched his lips twitch with the urge to let it develop into a full-blown toothy grin, but he managed to remain strong and keep his amusement masked. In the end, he ended up playing into the joke and amping up the "dad act" he unknowingly donned around the kids for the sake of the budding joke.

He departed from the Henderson residence with a playful, "Wear your helmet and you might be bumped back up to favorite kid status," spoken to where Dustin stood, less grumpy now that the mood had shifted into something more jovial.

In their defense, he didn't resent the joke when it started. For a week or so, it actually made him laugh just as much as it made them laugh. He would pretend to scoff and roll his eyes, but they all saw him chuckle whenever they cracked another joke about it. Soon enough, every member of the group began calling him "Dad" instead of his name. The kids even pulled together their collective allowances together to buy him a "World's Best Dad" apron.

The problem stemmed from Eddie.

It began with him calling him daddy, and then, well, it stuck. Hearing Eddie call him that obviously didn't weird him out. It was a joke. But once Y/N caught on and began saying it, Steve was forced to confront new revelations about himself he wasn't fully comfortable with.

The first few times she joined Eddie in poking fun at him with the nickname, he shifted in place and let out a forced laugh to satisfy them. It was one particular instance that prompted this revelation, and he hasn't been able to end the torment it's caused him since.

Summer afternoons tend to be hottest in July in Hawkins. With Steve being the only one in their group to have a pool, this meant that everyone was to spend the fourth at his place, savoring the haven that was the cool water beneath the blazing sun, pigging out on grilled hot dogs, and, for the oldest few, drinking beers he swiped from the fridge in his dad's garage. Y/N hated beer, though, so he, being the whipped thoughtful boyfriend, came up with an alternative for his girl.

The apron the kids gifted him was tied around his waist as he poured a shot of vodka into the Shirley Temple he made special for her, placing extra maraschino cherries on top because she always complains that restaurants never give her enough, if any, of them. Her red bikini matched their vibrant shade when he carried it over and handed it off with a softly spoken, "Here ya go, peach."

Y/N's head jerked around from where she'd been focusing on Nancy and Robin, talking about a book they both read recently, to see him. The two other girls were sharing a lounge chair beside Eddie, who was lighting up a joint and sitting on the patio ground. At the sight of Steve standing there, she smiled, and it only grew when she caught sight of the drink being held out for her.

She knew without having to turn around that it was him. Other than the obvious indicator of the voice that she could recognize in a crowd of thousands, Steve is the only person to call her by that nickname. Neither of them remembers how it started in the first place, but other than the occasional "baby" or "sweetheart" thrown into the mix, he has referred to her as "peach" for the duration of their relationship.

With one hand, she took the glass from him. With the other, she guided him to lean down for a kiss by the collar of the apron he wore to cook the hotdogs on the grill for the kids. At that moment, the idea of them spending the rest of their lives like this was her deepest desire. She pretended if only for the short moment it took to pull him in and kiss him, that this was their house together, that they had children of their own, and he would work the grill while she watched over their brood of little Harringtons. It wasn't hard to picture with the "World's Best Dad" apron he wore either.

The hand she used to pull him in slid down the front of the apron over the ironed-on lettering that spelled out the words. She kept her palm flat on his semi-toned abdomen, looking up at him through fluttering eyelashes, and patted over the word dad once as she casually spoke the words that damned him to his suffering.

"Thanks, daddy."

Something changed in him at that moment. The tectonic plates must have shifted, Pandora's box was opened, and there was nothing he could do but stand there with his eyes glued to her sitting in front of him in surprise. Not at the new nickname Eddie had given him, he was used to that joke now that they were a week deep, but at the unexpected effect it had to hear her say it.

You see, Steve never thought he was into kinky sex. After checking out a couple of dirty movies from the secluded adult section of Family Video, the conclusion came to him after two of them that he wasn't into the bondage thing. He liked to get rough now and then, sure, but that's normal. A little hair-pulling, aggressive doggy style with his girl wasn't anything to write a letter to the Penthouse over. This, however, was notable. It clicked with him about five seconds after she said it that he might get hard.

Oh, he thought. He liked that. A lot.

The fact that she was sitting with her face in front of his crotch and looking up at him played a part, but it was being called that by her that switched on a lightbulb in his brain he never knew existed. However, she didn't mean it the way he felt it. That specific kink is something she's heard brought up in some of Eddie and Jonathan's painfully lewd conversations whenever they're too high to care, but she never thought to imagine it in the context of her and Steve. Not yet, anyway.

Whatever Steve had conjured as a response died with an inaudible whimper in the back of his throat, and he was forced to gather himself quicker than he thought was possible due to having friends sitting around them. Nancy is far too perceptive to miss it if he starts acting funny, and if Eddie or Robin picked up on the fact that he was sporting a semi because she called him that, he would never live it down. Like, seriously, he would be destined to live in shame for all eternity.

With that in mind, he cleared his throat and said, "Of course." A charming smile was flashed in her direction. And for the sake of the voice in the back of his head always screaming at him to take care of her, he brushed a strand of hair from her face and said, "Drink some water too, okay? Can't have you passing out on me. Someone needs to help me keep those little shitheads away from the beer cooler."

The "shitheads" in question meaning Max and Lucas, who spent a decent half hour trying to sneak their way over to the cooler he stashed the cans in. He ended up shooing them off and used the cooler as his seat around the lounge chairs everyone was stretched out on in order to guard it.

Though the "passing out" bit was a gross over-exaggeration on his part when the alcohol consumption was a mere shot of vodka, it brought a familiar warmth to the pit of her belly. Feeling his hand resting on her head to pet her hair, looking up to take in the sight of him—his sun-kissed cheeks, the chest hair poking out from the edge of the apron tied around his bare torso, and the doting affection evident in those big doe eyes. It may have been easier for her to hide it, but that moment turned her on as well. She couldn't put her finger on what did it, but it was there. Something about seeing him paired with the soothing touch and the gentle command in his voice when he told her what to do...

She nodded along like a puppy, glad to do whatever he said so long as he didn't stop looking at her like that.

"Okay."

Had he not been sporting a noticeable bulge underneath the green apron, he would've sat with her for another minute while waiting for the hot dogs he just put on to cook, but he was quick to leave. Any excuse to get the hell away from whatever siren song she was singing and back to the grill so he could try to ignore the revelation he had.

From then on, she kept calling him that.

She and Eddie would greet him with the nickname every time they saw him. And, much to Steve's dismay, hearing it from her had him fighting off arousal every single day. There were more times than he could count that she would come hurrying up to him whenever they met, throw her arms around his broad shoulders to plant a kiss on his cheek, and say through a smile, "Hey, daddy."

It was like an itch he couldn't scratch. Every time that damned word fell from her lips, it killed him to refrain from reacting. Although, he'd be lying if he said it didn't have at least one positive effect on his life. The impact it made on their sex life, at least for him, was immeasurable.

The kids, along with Nancy, left his Fourth of July party before dinner time, and the combination of sun-induced exhaustion and alcohol consumption led to Robin and Eddie passing out on the living room couch. In other words, he and Y/N were free to do as they pleased in the seclusion of his bedroom. The size of the house gave them more privacy than they would find at her place. As long as the bedroom door remained shut and they kept as quiet as possible, their friends would be none the wiser.

The half-dry bikini tied to her body left damp patches on his sheets where he pinned her beneath him. His deft fingers had the straps undone on her top as he rutted between the legs wrapped around hips and whined into her mouth. He heard her calling him daddy on a loop in his mind and gave himself to it. The pleasure sparked by their needy grinding lowered his inhibitions. It allowed him to fantasize without shame or judgment, and when that wall came crashing down, there was nothing he could do to rebuild it.

He came in his shorts less than a moment later. It was embarrassingly fast compared to his usual stamina with her, and he could tell by the way that she looked at him as he trembled in her arms and chanted her name under his breath that it surprised her as much as it did him.

She asked, breathless, "Did you just come?"

The apples of his cheeks burned red. He ended up burying his face in her chest to hide it in embarrassment as he gave her a muffled, "Yeah," in response. It had been years since he came in his pants like that. If he had to guess, the last time might have been making out with his first girlfriend when he was fifteen, downstairs on the very couch Eddie and Robin were knocked out on.

And in the weeks since, it has been a frenzy.

Never in their lives has either of them had that much sex before. It was even more intense than the frequency at which they had sex at the start of their relationship when the honeymoon phase prompted them to undress at the drop of a hat. Most of it was him initiating considering she was jokingly calling him daddy every time they saw each other and he couldn't help but throw himself at her, but once she caught on to the sudden uptick in his sex drive, she began initiating it too. To be wanted by Steve Harrington was an addictive thing.

The "torment" aspect of the ongoing joke has to do with the fact that during this frenzy of sex, he can't say a thing about the new discovery he's made about himself. What if she thinks he's weird? What if she thinks he's some kind of creep? He'd never want to offend her and risk ruining what they have together for the sake of a kink he didn't know he had.

How is one supposed to break it to their girlfriend with whom they have vanilla sex that they think they would like to be called daddy in bed? It's not that he doesn't love the vanilla sex, he does. He loves plain old missionary. He loves holding her face in his hands and looking into her eyes. He loves making love to her, and he would argue that there is a difference between that and normal sex, but there's a part of him that wants to explore new things as well. And that part of him has been hard to ignore.

Especially tonight.

It was Nancy's idea.

With it now being late August, it's their last chance to be together as a group before she leaves for college, and she found the perfect way to celebrate before the send-off full of tearful goodbyes inevitably commences. She and Jonathan intended on dragging the older crew to a dive bar a few towns over that (allegedly) didn't check IDs. It wasn't necessarily about getting drunk, either, it was about getting out of Hawkins for one night. Far away from the place that caused pain and pleasure to them for a few hours of reprieve, or maybe even pretending to be the people they wanted to be.

The backseat of Joyce's car is packed. Jonathan borrowed it for the night, seeing as Steve's needed an oil change and he wasn't going to risk the twenty-minute drive if Phoebe wasn't ready for it. Jonathan and Nancy are sitting up front together while he, Robin, and Eddie are in the back.

His foot taps to the beat of the song playing from the mixtape Jonathan put in as they wait for Y/N to come walking around the end of her street. The hands on his wristwatch read eight-thirty. The precise time they told her to meet them down the road from her house. Steve likes to go up to the door to get her, ever the gentleman, whenever he takes her out, but this night is different. She couldn't tell her parents she was going out of town to a dive bar, could she?

Y/N smiles at herself in the mirror, swiping one last coat of lipstick on and taking a step back to review her masterpiece. The aesthetic of the makeup and outfit blend together with a cohesion rarely found in her wardrobe. Most often, she throws on whatever pair of jeans and top left that's clean and calls it a day. But something as big as the group's last night out together called for more attention to detail.

The fabric of the skirt wrapped around her hips is soft beneath the pads of her fingers running along the outseams. It's a mini skirt Steve gifted her last Christmas—short to an offensive degree and simple in design. Classic, one could say. Especially when paired with her knee-high boots, the sheer black button-down tucked into the waistband, and his favorite shade of lipstick. In other words, there's a likely possibility that she'll put her boyfriend into an early grave with how she looks tonight. He's told her what seeing her in this skirt does to him.

She spends another minute or so fussing over the way her hair falls before realizing the time and cursing under her breath, rushing over to her bedroom window as if a fire was lit under her ass. It's left open for the night breeze to infiltrate the bedroom behind her, but she doesn't care. Her parents never notice when she sneaks out, so she'll be spending the night at Steve's place after they return from the bar.

The impact of her feet on the hard dirt beneath her window sends a splintering ache up the sides of her legs that she ignores for the sake of running across her lawn.

And, suddenly, there she is one minute late. Running up around the bend of the road, she appears from the pockets of darkness between streetlights like a ship emerging from a cloud of mist—hidden one moment and towering above the voyeur with its commanding presence the next. Her, with her mini skirt and red lips. Her, with her hair swishing with the momentum of her strides in the breezy summer night. His sweet peach.

He doesn't stand a chance.

The door swings open for her, and there he is.

His hair is done differently than it is on a day-to-day basis. In a styled mess of grown-out strands, the general gist of his usual hairdo is altered to be a bit tidier. The sides are pushed back into place with hairspray while the top flops to the side in a swoop that is somehow disheveled and put together at the same time. He's wearing one of those stupid polo shirts she loves so much, and, God, one of these days she will suffocate beneath the weight of this eternal yearning.

His eyes rake up and down the length of her body multiple times before he manages to string together a sentence in greeting.

Bless him, she thinks. It's too easy.

"You look"—his mind cycles through the options, 'Gorgeous, pretty, sexy, good enough to eat, like I want to bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you so good you start calling me daddy for real this time'—"beautiful."

Robin interjects, "I mean, we all know that 'cause, duh, but please keep it in your pants, Harrington."

The way he said it, especially when paired with that blink-and-you'll-miss-it surprised expression donned by that pretty face of his, tells Y/N what she needs to know. The little black skirt will be on his bedroom floor by the end of the night. Not that she has any qualms about it. Robin's comment is ultimately disregarded.

"Right back at ya, daddy."

This earns her a laugh from Eddie, a nervous smile from Steve, and a few lackadaisical chuckles from the rest of the car. The joke is beginning to get old, but, for some reason, she can't stop calling him that. Old habits and such.

A shiver runs down Y/N's spine at the contact of the hand he rests at the southernmost point of her spine to steady her as she crawls in to sit on his lap. Once she steps in with one foot, his palm dips down to cup her ass cheek over the skirt with her backside facing away from their friends to "help" her the rest of the way in. But, she doesn't take it as him making a move.

The thing about their relationship is, they both know he already owns her. Whatever part of her, whatever piece of her soul he wants, is his, and she willingly surrenders it to him. So, touches like this are commonplace. They both know it never matters to them if he touches her ass or tits without initiating sex. Sometimes, he slips a hand up her shirt and cups one of her breasts in his hand as they fall asleep on nights they spend together.

It isn't just her either, it goes both ways.

She keeps a hand in the back pocket of his jeans most times, and she loves to play with his chest hair if it can be accessed with the clothes he's wearing. But, it must be acknowledged that it is something different in each direction. Steve's possession of her is different than hers of him, and she likes it. She likes their dynamic. She likes how he makes her feel safe and protected and held whenever they're together. She likes moments where he touches her this way simply because he can. Because he knows how much power he wields over her and refuses to do anything but good with it.

The possession she has of him is...fuck, what isn't it? It's everything. It's free falling into an unknown pit. It's wishing he could do anything to make her better when she's low. It's the urge to protect her from whatever threats come their way, a dynamic forged in the life or death environment their relationship began in when they looked after the kids together as El closed the gate. The knee-jerk reaction he had to leap in front of her into the direct path of a demodog, already raising the bat to swing for a girl he met days ago. It's being wrapped around her finger and savoring every second of it.

She settles into place on his lap and thanks him in a hushed tone as to not interrupt the conversation Robin and Eddie launched into about how egregious the couple PDA within the group can get. A pair of strong arms wrap around her waist, pulling her back with little effort so her back is flat against his chest with his body acting as a seat and seatbelt to keep her in place.

The motion of the car going forward rocks her ass back against his lap. He bites back a groan, and it ends up coming out as more of a shaky exhale that he prays she doesn't notice. As long as she doesn't call him...that...again and the car doesn't jolt around enough to move her on his lap, he'll make it through the drive unscathed.

For the first five minutes, all is well. Roadways are flat and smooth, she doesn't call him by her new favorite pet name, and he manages to ignore the nagging voice in his head reminding him of the dirty secret he's been harboring for over a month. It slips his mind as he listens to their friends' conversation with his chin propped onto the edge of her shoulder and his eyes trained on whoever is speaking.

But, right when they reach the six-minute mark, it begins.

The road doesn't become uneven and pothole-ridden out of the blue, it is she who starts to shift around on top of him of her own volition. As much as she loves cuddling, sitting on his lap with her knees pressing into the seat in front of her is getting uncomfortable, and she can't find a way to make the discomfort lessen no matter how she positions herself.

"So cramped in here," she whines under her breath and wiggles her hips in an attempt to sit without his hipbones digging into her ass.

It doesn't do anything to help. The only thing it succeeds in is arousing him. Luckily, the fleeting spark of pleasure he felt when she first got into the car was snuffed out by the distractions provided in the form of their friends, but this time...

Steve has to breathe in deeply through his nose and switch his chin to rest on her other shoulder, the one closest to the window, to keep the rest of them from noticing him shutting his eyes in concentration. It's an affirmation on repeat in his head to keep him from hearing her voice saying that cursed word to him: Do not think about it, do not think about it, do not think about it, do not—

There's movement to his left, the feeling of her head turning to look over her shoulder to him, and she asks at a volume so low, only he hears, "Are you okay?"

He curses himself for making it obvious. There's no way she wouldn't have noticed with their close proximity, but he hoped his deep breaths wouldn't attract attention. And once she turned her head to see his eyes shut, she assumed he was upset or in pain of some kind.

Well, he thinks, emotional pain. The crushing emotional anguish of not wanting to have this conversation here in front of their best friends.

"Yeah, peach, s'all good."

The reassuring words are punctuated with the soft squeeze of his arms tightening around her waist in a quick embrace, but there is an ulterior motive underneath. Perhaps if he holds her tighter and has better control, she won't be able to keep readjusting every two seconds and practically grind her ass on his soon-to-be erection. The thicker fabric of his jeans buys him more time before she notices to get it to soften, but, fuck, he needs it to hurry up and quit.

Knowing her, he should've known she wouldn't drop it. If she thinks he's not feeling well, she'll do whatever she can to reciprocate the care he shows her and try to make it better, but the last thing she's doing right now is making it better. Seeing her face and hearing her voice while feeling her pressed up against him is torture.

"Are you sure? Are you getting carsick?" Her eyes narrow and her brows pinch together as she asks it in a whisper. The soft pad of her thumb rubs the back of his hand in comfort. "You're breathing so heavy, you sound like you're gonna be sick."

She starts to squirm again in his strong embrace to turn to see him better, and the movement rubs the curve of her ass on his bulge just right. Through the thin layer of her panties, he can feel the warmth and softness of her pussy against his hardening cock. That's it. He's past the point of no return. Now that he's aware of it, he can't think of anything except how easy it would be to push her panties to the side, undo his jeans, and take her like this.

His arms unloop from her waist as casually as they can without drawing the attention of their friends, then he grips her hips with enough pressure to bruise the skin to halt her cruel movements. The feeling of his lips brushing her ear has her heart skipping a beat.

Steve says lowly, "Stop moving."

Her mouth is already opening to ask what the problem is, wondering if he's hurt in some way and she's making it worse when—

Oh.

He's hard.

It hurts her neck to crane it enough to meet eyes with him, but she considers it a necessary sacrifice to get the surprise she feels across. There's a silent pleading in his eyes. What it is he's pleading for, other than the obvious, she isn't sure until another few seconds pass and the sound of Nancy telling a story about the first time she smoked pot comes back to her. That's what he's asking her to do. Don't let them know anything is going on.

Those red lips are parted in shock, and Steve thinks he might burst out of his skin if he doesn't get his hands underneath that tiny skirt. Having to see her lips painted that color...

The reason he knows she did it on purpose is that he's told her, just like he did with the skirt, what it does to him. This one is less about his fondness for the color, although he does like it, and more so about the memory tied to it. It was Christmas of their senior year. Their fling was to remain on the down low until they knew what they wanted from it since it began shortly after they looked after the kids together amidst the chaos of the night El closed the gate. He dropped Dustin off at the Snowball where she waited for him, leaned up against the brick wall of Hawkins Middle School after walking Max over to ensure Billy didn't fuck with her.

He remembers that as the first time he knew he loved her. When he pulled up in front of the entrance to the gym and forgot about everything else in existence when he saw her there, taking the younger girl into her arms for a hug and waving goodbye. There was something about her that night that made him see her in a different light than when their relationship had been strictly a friendship with sexual perks. And when she got into the car after Dustin went in, he noticed how pretty she looked in her red lipstick.

The reason why seeing her wear it turns him on is far less wholesome, however. She gave him a blowjob for the first time that night and caught him off guard. He hadn't expected her to unbuckle her seat belt soon after they left and start undoing his pants, but she did, and red lipstick has been ruined for him ever since. It's a Pavlovian response at this point.

"Oh," she whispers, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

There's a light scoff, the loudest he's dared to be since she put two and two together, and she knows what he's going to say before he says it.

"Mhm"—the tip of nose brushes affectionately against the side of her neck—"You know exactly what you're doing."

Full honesty? She didn't realize her squirming in discomfort was causing his not-so-little problem. The lipstick and skirt were calculated blows, sure, but those were intended to get him worked up later. Not in a car full of people. And she definitely doesn't know what she's doing when it comes to the whole "daddy" thing. It's a silly nickname that stuck, that's all. She has no clue that her calling him that is the reason he can't get enough of her lately.

That's why she doesn't realize that what she's about to say is the worst possible thing for him to hear at the moment.

Her lips upturn in a teasing grin.

"Uh oh, daddy's mad."

Their voices are still low enough to not be heard over the music and chatter overwhelming the interior of the car, but that's the last fucking thing he's thinking about after what she said. That's it. He's done. He's done pretending that it doesn't affect him and feeling guilty for getting off on it. It could be the arousal clouding his judgment, but he says it before he has the good sense to stop himself.

"Quit calling me that." He mutters what comes next in a manner that is shockingly cavalier, "Unless you wanna get fucked right here in front of everyone. It's up to you."

Jonathan makes a sharp left turn onto a gravel side road that sends her shifting in Steve's lap, putting a delicious pressure on his aching cock that almost pulls a groan from his lips. The act of reaching out to stabilize herself with a hand on his thigh delays her reaction to what he said, but once the car straightens out on the new road and it clicks, her mouth runs dry.

Holy shit.

And though it was never a thought in her mind prior to this moment, it now clicks into place for her the same way it had for him on July fourth. There's a pulse of pleasure felt at the apex of her thighs at the combined sensations of having him speak to her like that, the general concept of what he meant, and the feeling of him hard beneath her. It's a wonder she manages to catch the soft moan that tries to leave her throat.

She's never seen him like this.

Their sex life isn't boring by any means, but this is different. Liking it rough and engaging in casual dirty talk is worlds apart from hearing that your boyfriend gets off on you calling him daddy and realizing you enjoy it too. And it isn't uncommon for him to guide her during sex, doting on her and letting her lay back while he takes care of her, but saying he'll fuck her in front of their friends if she doesn't stop calling him daddy is not the Steve she's familiar with. He always has control over her in bed due to their natural dynamic, but not like this. Not in this way. The way she never knew she needed.

It's an easy decision in the end. It's a movement so slow and minute, he doesn't realize she's making it at first.

Y/N shifts in his lap one last time, sliding her right leg over and letting it settle between his, and spreads them slowly to allow his muscular thigh enough space to press up against her clothed cunt. The wetness he caused has soaked through the flimsy material of her panties, and she's certain there will be a wet spot left behind on his pant leg but doesn't have it in herself to care.

The fog in his mind delays his thought process for a few seconds, so when she first spreads her legs over his thigh, it doesn't hit him until a few seconds later what she's doing. Or, more importantly, what it means.

She's into it too.

If there was any chance of him going soft, it's gone now at the realization that she finds the "daddy" thing as hot as he does. And then there's the small factor of her wanting to ride his thigh in a car full of people. The long gravel road sends them jolting up and down and side to side. It didn't take long for her to realize the opportunity it offered. She's so turned on, it aches. She needs this.

Steve doesn't say a word as he pushes his thigh up harder against her, unable to do anything but watch in equal parts awe and desire, to let her use the gentle bouncing of the car to get off on him. There's no movement necessary on her part. Her sole responsibility is to sit back and enjoy it.

He hears her mutter a soft, "Fuck," at the friction of her clit rubbing on his leg through the cotton fabric of her panties and squeezes her hip in a warning to stay quiet.

"What was that?"

The sound of Robin speaking up from her left side drops her heart into the pit of her stomach.

She looks to see every other person in the car turning their heads to where she and Robin sit, the latter of the two looking expectantly at her for a response. It's difficult to focus long enough to come up with an excuse because the stimulation never ceases. It isn't her or Steve deliberately causing it, it's the bumpy road bouncing and grinding her on him. But, regardless of whether or not they can control it, it sends an exhilarating rush through her. Nobody but them knows what they're doing as they watch it, and she didn't know how arousing it would be until now. The attention of everyone's eyes on her doesn't turn her off, it adds fuel to the fire.

"Oh, I was just saying to Steve that I forgot to close my bedroom window when I snuck out. My room's gonna be too cold by the time I get back," she says.

The strength it takes to not to let out a moan in between words is immeasurable. The only thing she can think about is how badly she wants him inside of her right now. How badly she wishes he could pull her panties aside how he imagined doing and slip right in. She's so wet, he could do it. The mental image he planted in her head about calling him daddy during sex got her soaked.

Most of the car is shrouded in darkness, so none of them take notice of the positioning of her legs or his, nor do they notice his right hand playing with the hem of her skirt. His finger teases its way underneath it to caress the side of her hip.

"You can stay at my place tonight," he offers, and it infuriates her that he can keep his cool throughout the situation that threatens to unravel her composure.

His solution to her half-truth of a problem seems to do the trick, and the rest of them resume the conversation about where Robin plans on going to college next year. Mercifully, Jonathan reaches to turn up the radio as a Bowie song takes its turn on the tape. The opening chords to Starman are a distant symphony. With the pleasure spiking every passing second spent on this road that rubs her clit on his thigh, it sounds further away—as if she's been plunged underwater and listens from the depths beneath.

And she may be enjoying this, but he's willing to bet he's enjoying it more. He can feel her pulsating against his leg with every bounce the car makes. It's visible in the little ways that she's already getting close. For one, her right hand shoots down to squeeze his where it has slipped up her skirt. It's something she does whenever she's about to come. She'll cling onto him in any way she can as if he's at the risk of disappearing without her acting as his tether to the earth, and holding his hand is the best she can do.

The feeling of his breath hitting her neck sends her deeper into the fantasy she couldn't help but imagine to aid her in getting off. This road can't stretch on forever, and the last thing she wants is to get left high and dry, so she pretends. She pretends that he did exactly what he said he would and fucked her right here. She imagines the sounds he'd make in her ear, the heavy pants that would fan over the back of her neck in hot exhales, and it's a struggle to refrain from letting his new nickname fall from her lips.

Another minute or so and the gravel road will run out, but she doesn't need any longer than that. They both know it. His cock is hard against her ass, so hard it almost hurts, and she loves knowing that she did that to him. It's exactly what she needs to be sent to the edge, teetering right there between the earth-shattering promise of pleasure and the possibility of having it ripped away should the road run out sooner than planned. All she needs is a little push.

And he knows that. He has watched her, felt her, and listened for any cues she might have given through his own haze of need. Seeing that he's made her come more times than he can count, he can tell what she wants and when, and, right now, she wants to hear his voice. Dirty talk is the quickest way to push her over the edge. It must kill her that they can't speak to one another right now.

Well, she can't because she doesn't recognize how loud or quiet she is with what she's feeling, but he thinks he'll get away with it.

Steve whispers into her ear, bouncing his thigh to give her an extra bit of contact, "That's it." The darkness of the car alongside the fact that it's already jolting conceals the deliberate bouncing of his leg, and he can hardly contain his excitement as he finally gets to bring his fantasy to life. "Such a good girl for daddy."

With those words, the tension in the pit of her belly snaps and her orgasm sweeps over her with a strength far too cruel for the setting they're in. Her hand squeezes his hand in a need to do something, anything, other than writhe and moan throughout the pulses of white-hot pleasure rippling through her. It's a shock she doesn't cut off his circulation or cause her bottom lip to bleed with how hard she bites it. Her head is turned as if she's simply looking out of the window when, in actuality, she's riding out her climax. The noises were within her control, but she knew there was nothing she could do to control her face and turned her head to the side as soon as it hit her.

Having her head turned to the side allows Steve to watch her come, and, boy, is it a pretty sight. Her lip is tugged between her teeth, her brows are furrowed, and he can just tell she's dying to cry out for him the way she knows he likes. When they first got together, she was shy about making noise. It took a lot of coaxing for her to let loose and allow herself to do what felt right, and now that she's been conditioned to make as much noise as she wants, it's hard to stifle it.

The raspy croons of Bowie's voice come back in full force with the receding high that eases off of her. After a half minute or so, she has to adjust her position so she's sitting on both of his legs instead of straddling one. Her orgasm has left her sensitive to the touch, and though the road is due to shift back to pavement in seconds, she can't handle the stimulation any longer.

It's an effort not to slump against the seat in front of her or pant as obviously as she wishes to. The music concealed any slight moans that made it past, but there's nothing to hide her panting or exhaustion. Sweat slicks her skin beneath her clothes despite the rolled-down windows that allow cool air inside. The car takes the left turn and stops jolting as it did before, and, though the sleepy bliss of the afterglow, she can't help but turn her face from the rest of them and smile.

Steve sees it, though, and his hand raises from its position at her hip to pull back the hair masking half of her face. He may still be hard, but the only thought in his head for this small span of seconds revolves around how beautiful that smile is. As if given permission to move by his touch, she leans over on the open window's frame with her armed folded beneath her chin to pant the outside air. The wind blows tender across her heated face, a lover's caress, and it counteracts the raging heat inside of her for now.

The moment of post-orgasmic serenity stretches on for another minute before reality comes knocking. Jonathan brings the car to a halt on the side of the street across from the bar Nancy picked out for them, and suddenly the feeling of Steve's erection poking at her ass beneath the skirt is something she is hyper-aware of.

Everyone else gets out of the car swiftly in excitement, but Steve lingers just long enough for it to be excused as waiting for her to get off of him and pulls her back by her hips. The strength with which he does so robs her of her breath.

"Bathroom. Five minutes."

That is all the explanation he offers as to what he plans on doing with her next before he opens the car door and ushers her out after their friends. Her legs tremble ever so slightly beneath her weight on the walk across the street. She stares at his back as he walks a step in front of her and gets lost focusing on the movement of his back muscles beneath his shirt.

She's so consumed by him, she doesn't notice Robin and Nancy approaching until they've converged from both sides. Their arms looping around her sends her jumping in fear before seeing it's them. It takes her a delayed moment of looking back and forth between them for her to realize they said something to her.

"Huh?"

A knowing smirk grows on Robin's face, her eyes deviating from hers for a second to meet Nancy's in silent communication.

"We were asking if you wanted to do karaoke. Nance's friend from the yearbook club said they have a band on Saturday nights for it. But, if you're too busy eye-fucking Steve to listen to us thennn—"

Nancy barks out a laugh, and Y/N scoffs, saying, "Fuck off, I was not eye-fucking him!"

Ahead of them, she already knows Steve is listening and gearing up to tease her over it as soon as he gets her alone in the bathroom.

"Okay, well, are you in or not? We were thinking Heart of Glass or Girls Just Wanna Have Fun," Nancy changes the subject as to not drag out her embarrassment.

She pretends to take the time to consider it as if it wasn't an immediate, "Yes," upon hearing the proposal to get back at them for the comment about eye-fucking Steve—which, honestly, she was doing. Nance and Robin both hang off of her arms, the latter of the two resting her chin on her shoulder and muttering a soft chant of, "Please, please, please, please," into her ear.

"Yes," she concedes, sending the two other women into a celebration full of high-fives and giggling, "but, only after we've had a few drinks. I don't think I have the balls to do that completely sober."

Which is code for, "I need to be in the bathroom with Steve in five minutes, so I'm going to make up some bullshit about needing to drink first so you won't notice my absence."

They accept the condition, and off they go into the bar. As promised by Nance, none of them get carded. They have to climb down a steep flight of stairs to the basement, descending into a narrow hallway dim with neon lighting to reach the seedy bar. And though it is quite gross with beer sticking the soles of her boots to the floor and a few abandoned items like unused condoms and cigarette filters, there's a strange allure to it that can't be denied. This is a place to come when you want to be yourself, no matter how messy that person may be.

Eddie and Jonathan head straight for the bar, whereas Steve says something to them that she can't hear but suspects is an excuse to slip away. She ends up following Robin and Nancy to sit at a table while the guys order drinks, but every second that passes is spent in nervous anticipation. Her leg bounces beneath the table with a force that could rattle it if they collided.

A glance at the clock tells her there's a minute left until he's expecting her back there. Time stretches on forever while she waits what feels like an inconspicuous amount of time to follow him to the bathrooms. Just before the big hand hits the top of the clock, she pushes her seat out and stands.

She says, "Be right back," and walks off in the direction of the stairs that lead down to the one-room bathroom.

It's darker the further she follows the path he took. The lights down here are no longer neon, but rather a buttery yellow that gets soaked up by the plain white surrounding her on either side. There are two hallways. A sign, which is actually a piece of paper taped to the wall with handwriting in sharpie, states that the manager's office is to the right and the bathroom is to the left.

There's a strange sensation bubbling in her stomach, and it takes longer than she'd like to admit to realize it's nervousness. The thing is, that’s a feeling she hasn't felt in ages in regard to being intimate with Steve. They broke through the awkward stage after the second time they had sex, and though the return of those nervous jitters catches her off guard, she can't say it doesn't excite her. Just thinking about what went down in the car, what she felt when she realized what he wants her to call him in bed, makes her press her thighs together to relieve the pulsing ache that has been reignited there.

Her closed fist knocks on the door a few times.

Silence.

"Steve," she says softly, then looks over her shoulder to ensure nobody is down here to see what they're up to. "It's just me."

There's a moment of pause before the door swings open and she is tugged inside by a strong hand that latches onto her wrist. It happens so fast, it's hard for her to keep track of their surroundings as the door is slammed shut, locked, and promptly used to throw her up against. The air is knocked from her body from the impact of him crashing into her, but she couldn't care less. The second his lips touch hers, she forgets any physical feeling other than those which he provides.

Steve's hands sink into her hair, cradling both sides of her head, and he uses it to direct her however he pleases. Whether he wants her to come closer or deepen the kiss, she is at the mercy of his desires. He bites down on her lower lip hard, and her mouth falls open in an inhale that he uses as an opportunity to slip his tongue inside. He kisses her as if the world depends on it. It isn't until she's on the verge of gasping for air that he gives her a break.

"God, you drive me insane," he murmurs into her mouth between little kisses that melt her heart. His hands wander anywhere she'll allow them to; her arms, back, waist, hips, ass, and tits. The warm palms of his hands explore her eager body as though he hasn't already done it a million times before. "You gonna let me fuck you, baby?"

She nods into the heated kiss, not wanting to waste a precious second of their time in here, but that isn't enough. No, he wants something from her. Something that he won't allow this to continue without hearing. With how wet she was for him in the car after he owned up to his newly found kink, he has blown past any reservations he once had for doing this with her. If anyone else were to know, he'd blush as red as a tomato, but she would never judge him. Least of all over something she finds arousing too.

His knee is pressed up between her thighs to put pressure on her overworked clit, and she cannot think straight to give him the response he wants. But she knows that's why he did it. A newer edge of muted sadism shows itself in him, not necessarily in the form of physical pain or punishment but in the form of enjoying her struggling. In giving her pleasure, he frustrates her, and it brings a smirk to his face.

He pulls his lips, now smeared with her red lipstick, out of reach, using the hands in her hair and the knee between her thighs to keep her pinned there. The lipstick is smattered along his lips and on the skin around it as well with a few marks left on his cheek and jaw. Not ideal for hiding the evidence of their secret tryst, but that's a bridge they'll cross later. As of now, he enjoys making her squirm.

She grinds forward against his knee for more as she whines, nose to nose with him, "Fuck me." Their lips manage to catch for a second before she whispers, looking up into his eyes through mascara-coated lashes, "Please, daddy."

For how shy she is trying out the new nickname in this context, she hides her insecurity well. Either that or he was too busy freaking the fuck out inside listening to her say that to care whether or not she was getting sheepish about it. Whatever the finer details are, it doesn't matter. Because that is the only thing he needed to lose what remained of his self-control.

Steve swings her around to face the sink in a matter of seconds. As she realized in the car, his strength is something she tends to overlook until moments like these. Sure, she'll always take the time to admire his biceps in his polo shirts or his thighs in a well-fitted pair of jeans, but it isn't until he starts to manhandle her like this that she remembers. In the past year he’s begun to grow into his tall frame.

A sharp breath is sucked in through her teeth as he bends her over the small, rickety sink. One hand is pressed to the middle of her back to force it to arch a little while the other makes quick work of the belt holding his jeans up. There isn't much time to spare considering their friends will expect them back in roughly six minutes, so he loses formality. It's urgent, almost primal, and they both know they're on the same page in regards to how hot they find it.

She is brought face to face with the dirty mirror and watches him undo his pants with his brows furrowed in frustration. Reading his mind isn't necessary, she already knows what's going on in there. After suffering through that car ride with her unknowingly pushing all of his buttons and getting him worked up, he's on the verge of crying, he's so sexually frustrated. Any delay in him getting inside of her pulls an annoyed little groan from the back of his throat.

The belt comes free from the buckle with an exasperated, "Finally," falling from his pretty pink lips as he yanks it out from the belt loops of his jeans and tosses it blindly across the room. It ends up hitting the metal trash can with a resounding, "Clang!" where the buckle collided with it, but they continue on in a frenzy.

Once his jeans and underwear are around his thighs, he wastes no time. He doesn't even wait to take her underwear off and stuff them into his back pocket to jerk off with later, he hooks two fingers into the crotch of her panties, pulls the wet fabric to the side, and guides his neglected cock to her. He teases her entrance for a split second. Both the release from her last orgasm and the precome collected at the tip of his cock makes for slick lubrication, and even if he wanted to, he doesn't think he could stop himself from slamming in the rest of the way once he nudges the tip inside of her.

They both cry out together at the feeling of their bodies merging so suddenly. For Steve, it's a cry of relief. He's been fantasizing about this for a month, and now that it's happening, he can't believe it's real. There's a dream-like surreality to it once it clicks with him that this is happening, that she really is bent over with her skirt around her waist for him in the bathroom of a dive bar, and it makes him twitch inside of her. More importantly, though, it makes him take a short pause to look at her.

He bends over so his chest is flush with her back—which makes her moan at the shift in angle caused by it—and brushes her hair from her face as she turns her head to the side. Her forehead is pressed up against the mirror, lips parted to take in deep breaths, and he feels her pushing her ass back against his hips and thighs in a request for him to move.

Still, he takes the time to admire her and says, kissing her cheek, "Love you."

This softens her tensed face.

She opens her mouth to parrot the words back to him but finds herself unable. Because the very moment she takes a breath to speak, he pulls out until just the tip is left inside of her and thrusts back into the hilt. Her jaw is slack with a mix of surprise and pleasure from the shift in pace, and she barely gets the chance to brace her hands on the edges of the sink for stability before he starts to pound her into it with all of his strength.

The sheer force of it jostles the sink beneath them to the cadence of his movements. It leaves her to hope it doesn't give out on them for a second before that thought disappears. It leaves her the second it appears because she has no capacity to think about anything other than what he is doing to her. And just because they have to be quick doesn't mean that he won't try to get one more orgasm out of her. Although she must admit, the idea of him using her like that elevates the gratification of it.

The intensified dominance he exhibits doesn't make it difficult to imagine. The way he keeps her trapped between his body and the sink, taking her exactly how he wants with no regard for where they are or if anybody overheard, it drives her wild. This new side to Steve is something she could get used to playing around with every now and then.

"Daddy," she whines, "I want you to use me. Fuck me like you hate me."

A breathy moan escapes him at this, and she can feel his reaction in how different the next returning thrusts. More frantic and carnal, a knee-jerk reaction to hearing her say that. Their bodies mold together perfectly. Every curve and edge of her fits to him as if they were made for each other, and she thinks they were. Whatever it is that decides, whether it be fate, a religious figure, or their DNA itself, designed them with each other in mind.

Steve curses under his breath at her, then says, panting, "You're filthy, fuck"—there's an abrupt pause in his speaking seeing that she purposely clenched around him, trying her best to give him the best fuck of his life regardless of whether she gets off again or not—"God, you feel so fucking good." His voice is breathy and hot in her ear. "Perfect little pussy."

One of his hands sneaks between her and the sink and dips into her panties to start rubbing her clit. It's already obvious to them both that he won't last long, and considering the amount of time, or lack thereof, that they have, he won't try to stave it off for long. So, he is dead set on getting her to come before him. He pulls out all the stops, tries every trick in the book, and hopes her first orgasm warmed her up enough for another.

The other hand settles on her back again, his torso lifting up off of her back so that he's standing behind her, and presses down for her to deepen the arch of her back and push her ass up closer to him. With her positioned like this, he starts hitting that sweet spot inside of her on every thrust.

She gasps a soft, "Daddy," and another hard snap of his hips sends her clawing at the sink.

The whole time, he keeps working her clit in tight circles with his fingertips and praising her through every second of it. Everything he says right now makes up for the forced silence they endured on the ride here. He tells her every thought in his head, ranging from professions of love to whatever other filthy things that come to mind, and she soaks up the attention gratefully.

It builds inside of her like a spring readying to bounce—the anticipation of her climax is nearly undoing in and of itself. It's a weightless, unending type of pleasure that rids her mind of any shame or fear of being interrupted. Though it makes her face heat up whenever she calls him daddy, she doesn't hesitate to say it now. In fact, the closer she draws to her end, the more rapidly it comes from her mouth.

It becomes apparent that they like this more than either of them bargained for, especially her. She wasn't the one who proposed it, after all. She was caught off guard by how hot she found it when he admitted to it in the car, but now? Now, she's done for. Now that they've gone through that door, there's no going back, and she's glad for it. Though Steve has always been skilled when it comes to women, this is the fasted he has made someone come before.

She's so turned on that the wet sound of his cock pumping in and out of her fills the cramped room. It feeds into the perfect storm of stimulation that pushes her to the brink of another orgasm. All of it—Steve, the sound of his voice, the taboo of what they're doing, and the physical feeling itself—fulfills every fantasy she's had since figuring out what sex was in the first place.

"Steve," she whines and reaches back to squeeze at his hip. Though hearing her call him daddy gets him going, nothing compares to when she says his name. "M'gonna come—"

And being the sweet, caring man he is while simultaneously railing her half to death over a sink, he says, "Go on. I've got you, peach. I'm not going anywhere."

Y/N comes undone with a moan. The mirror presses harder into her forehead with every rough thrust that pushes her into it, though she isn't inclined to care about the dull pain amidst her second blissful peak of the night. And not only is he left to watch her come beneath him, he feels it too. Every wave of pleasure that washes over her makes her spasm and squeeze down around his cock tightly enough to bring him to the edge of release as well.

He holds off for the time it takes her to ride out the intensity of her orgasm, rubbing her clit and fucking into her at the same brutal pace he kept before, and waits until she's hugging the sink and squirming from him in sensitivity to do anything.

Steve pulls out of her with no small amount of dissatisfaction for the seconds it takes to lift her up on unsteady legs, flip her around, and hoist her up onto the lip of the sink.

The shift in height leaves her disoriented and clinging her arms around his shoulders as to not slip off, but, deep down, she knows she doesn't need to. He wouldn't let anything happen to her, and that's part of what she loves about being with him. It plays into the new kink they're exploring and the power dynamic of it, the sense of protection and safety that occurs when surrendering herself to him.

There's a brief moment of fumbling in which he tugs her to the edge of the sink and frantically tries to line himself back up with her entrance, but once he settles between her parted thighs and sinks into her again, there's nothing awkward or fumbling about his actions. Every needy thrust is precise in depth and force, chasing the same high she came down from seconds ago.

The hand he wraps up in her hair yanks her head back for him to look into her eyes. He follows down the curve of her jaw, her neck, and to the cleavage visible beneath the see-through top covering her body. As he does this, she takes the time to survey him as well. It's hard to think straight through the aftershocks of her orgasm mixed with a sensitivity that almost makes her start to jerk away from him, but nothing will stop her admiring him.

Strands of his hair have been jostled out of place by their exertions, and the red lipstick smeared over his lips, jaw, and neck suits him better than she would've expected. Although, it's Steve, so she shouldn't count anything out when it comes to him being able to pull off a look. He makes everything look beautiful in a cool, James Dean sort of way that oozes effortlessness. (It isn't effortless at all, actually. She learned that soon after getting together with him and observing his extensive hair routine).

"You look so good fucking me, daddy," she can't help but blurt it out in a starry-eyed daze. The arms wrapped around his shoulders slide up to circle his neck, tugging him in until their mouths are brushing on the upstroke of his thrusts. "I can't believe you're mine."

The sound of her name muttered under his breath like a prayer has a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. His efforts in fucking her have doubled at this point. Rather than indulging in the pace and depth she finds most satisfying, he simply uses her to chase his orgasm. It draws small gasps and whines from her, but he doesn't slow down. He trusts her to tell him if and when to stop.

She taunts, "You like this, don't you? Using me to get off like I'm just a little fucktoy?"

Steve nods with his face pressed against hers.

"I—fuck—yeah, I love it. I love you."

His voice is caught halfway between its normal tone and a whine as he says it. It's almost hard to discern what he's saying with everything else that's happening. Between the heavy breathing, moans, and the obscene sound of their fucking that can likely be heard on the other side of the door, his voice starts to get lost within it.

The next few strokes are particularly sloppy, laced with an urgency none of the rest have had, so she can sense him coming before it hits him. His cock twitches inside of her, and he's already moving to pull out and jerk himself off onto her belly before she intervenes. He has pulled out halfway by the time she wraps her legs around his hips to push him the rest of the way back in and whispers a hurried, "Stay, stay," into the hairswidth of space between their parted lips. And he can't do anything but surge forward to kiss her as he tips over the edge.

Usually, he tends to opt on the side of pulling out even though she takes contraceptive pills. There have been countless instances of her complaining about how messy the cleanup is, and half the time neither of them wants to deal with it dripping out of her and staining their sheets. But, in the rarer event that she asks for it, he goes nuts.

Steve slams his hips forward into her a few more times before stilling inside of her with his hands balling her skirt up into fists, making little thrusts as he pumps her full of cum. For him, there is nothing like coming inside of her. It takes an average orgasm and increases the intensity tenfold, and considering that she's still crying out for him, calling him daddy as she thanks him for coming inside her, this one is unlike anything he's felt.

He stays pressed deep inside of her until his cock begins to soften, then slowly pulls out. Cum drips from her fucked-out hole onto the sink while he watches for a second, transfixed by the lewd image that'll likely be his sole source of masturbation material for the coming months before he reaches over to grab paper towels to clean her up with.

"Everything alright?" He asks. "It wasn't too much, was it?"

"No, it was perfect."

There's no sign of the domineering side of him that came out in the car. Now, he's all soft touches and insistent chivalry—that is, if wiping cum from your girlfriend's thighs in the bathroom of a bar can be considered anything close to chivalrous.

The paper towel is tossed aside into the trash can and her panties are moved back in place to keep any more of his release from spilling out. She nods, leaning up to peck his lips. Her arms are still propped over his shoulders when she pulls away to speak.

"I love you too, you know that?"

Steve gives a hum in response. His eyes are heavy-lidded from the exhaustion felt from head to toe after what they did. He always gets like this after he comes, sleepy-eyed and affectionate to the extent that he often struggles not to fall asleep cuddling with her. He's far too hung up on something she said to him earlier to want to sleep, however.

I can't believe you're mine.

There was once a time when Steve worried he'd never meet a woman who felt that way about him. For most of his life, Steve was reduced to whatever role people wanted him to fill. For Tommy and Carol, it was the popular rich kid also known as "King Steve" who led the basketball team and partied with them. For his parents, it has always been the "seen but not heard" son who went from being a promising young man to a failure or inconvenience at best. For Nancy Wheeler, he was a placeholder for the next guy. And it isn't something he holds against her. He needed to go through what happened with her to get to where he is today, but that doesn't mean it hurt any less.

All Steve Harrington wanted was to be wanted. He wanted someone, just one person, who woke up each morning with him as their first thought. He wanted someone who didn't think his love for them was bullshit. He wanted someone who'd look after their "kids" with as much care as he did. He wanted someone who loved him, someone who he didn't have to fill a role for. And, with her, he doesn't need to be anything but himself. With, her Steve can just be Steve, and that's enough. For once in his life, he's enough.

With total security in his belief of the words, he says softly, "I know."

Then, since there always is one when it comes to his girl, the other shoe drops.

"You know, for someone who likes being called daddy in the sack," she teases him as if she wasn't equally as aroused by the whole situation. "You're a bit of a perv, actually."

There it is, he thinks to himself. Knew it.

"Oh, screw you!"

She doesn't miss a beat.

"You just did."

The couple erupts into a fit of tired giggles, their limbs still entangled in a mess of sweaty skin and their appearances an utter disaster. After a moment, the laughter quiets and leaves them with nothing to do but stare into each other's eyes in the dim lighting of the bathroom. It takes him a while to work up the nerve to ask her the question he's had on his mind since the car, though it may seem self-explanatory with how she reacted in here.

"You liked it, though, right? I mean, the whole daddy thing. I know it's a lot, and I know you were joking but I'm sure it may seem a bit pervy if you don't know me, and—"

His rambling is shushed by her finger pressing into his lips.

"Of course, I liked it." She means to go on, but then becomes distracted by the lipstick that stains her finger where it presses to his lips. Her thumb is sucked into her mouth for a second and returns to his face to start rubbing off the makeup. "Thank God it's gonna be dark up there or else everyone would know what we've been—"

A banging on the door behind him makes Steve jump in her embrace, spinning around and placing himself in front of her body to shield her on instinct before his mind catches up. It's no inter-dimensional murderer like Vecna or a Demogorgon coming to finish the job, it's a cranky, drunk old dude pounding on the door who's likely two seconds from pissing his pants by the sound of it. Hearing him yell through the barrier separating them relaxes Steve's tense shoulders.

He turns back to Y/N to see her already staring at him. Her eyes have turned from bright and mischievous to a softened, sympathetic expression. She treats him so gently, down to the way she looks at him, and it's something he's never known how to accept. He's always the protector, the first to throw himself into the line of fire, the babysitter, but rarely did anyone check up on him the way he does them. Until her.

"Come on," he says, "We better get back up there before any of them realize how long we've been gone."

They may have gone nine minutes rather than six, but, with all things considered, they'll take it as a win. Plus, they realize once they ascend the stairs once more and find their places amongst their friends, nobody seems to notice. They made sure to clean the lipstick off their faces, fix their hair to the best of their abilities, and triple-check to ensure there weren't any suspicious stains on her black skirt.

In the end, Steve joins Eddie beside the old "out of service" jukebox to give Y/N some girl time with Robin and Nancy. It's not like they didn't get plenty of one on one time in the bathroom. But, right when he reaches Eddie and outstretches his hand for the beer he'd been babysitting until his return, he is thrown off by his friend's eyes flickering up and down between his face and his crotch.

The explanation comes a second later.

"Your fly's down."

He utters, "Oh shit," and turns toward the wall to zip it back up.

The following minute and a half is quiet. He took the beer from Eddie as soon as he fixed the zipper situation and turned back around to lean against the wall with his face flushed pink. Luckily for him, it's hard to tell with this lighting. Unluckily for him, it doesn't take good lighting to read body language, and he wears his heart on his sleeve whether he likes it or not. By the end of this deafening silence, he's bracing himself for it. It's palpable in the air around him and visible in the smile gradually fighting its way to fruition on Eddie's face.

He watches from the corner of his eye as Eddie observes Y/N talking to the other girls at their table not far away. Though tamed by her attempts to put herself back together, her hair is sporting a bedhead-esque appearance that is a sharp contrast to the put-together style she disappeared downstairs with. They both take a sip from their glasses, then...

"Harrington, you absolute hound dog—"

"Shut it, Munson."

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #stranger things fanfiction #fanfiction

[asahicore]

moonlight - psh (m)

this work contains smut - minors please do not interact pairing. dancer!sunghoon x fem!reader synopsis. In August 1963, your monotonous summer vacation becomes a lot more exciting when you meet a group of dancers that work as the entertainment staff of the resort you and your family are staying at. Your fascination with them, and particularly dancers and close friends Sunghoon and Chaewon, pushes you to help them out by taking Chaewon's place at another hotel's show when she's unable to dance. The week you spend with Sunghoon as he teaches you to dance and the events thereafter give you a lot more than the ability to mambo. genre. dirty dancing au, strangers to lovers, summer au, poor boy x rich girl trope, the Big 3 (fluff angst n smut) word count. 32.2k a/n. it's finally here !!! i've been working on this for a while so i hope you guys will like it, please lmk what u think ur feedback is super important to me !!! if you've seen dirty dancing you'll see that this is like.. a complete copy of the movie lmaooo i'm sorry i didn't wanna stray from the plot cz i love it 2 much <//3 i'll make a posting schedule shortly after this so you guys can see which of my old works i'll be reposting and all that :)) enjoy !! also thanks to @ozymandia-s for betareading this u deserve the world and u made this fic a thousand times better <333 and yep thats a compliment from me to u so u better treasure it fr.

It’s the summer of 1963, everybody calls you Baby, and it hasn’t occurred to you to mind. You’re 18, have plans to change the world, and are sure there isn’t a better man than your father.

After years of being too busy to leave work for over a week, your father has finally retired, and you can all go on a long, well-deserved summer break. Like most people your age, your dream vacation would be to backpack through Europe or Asia, discovering the wonders the world has to offer, meeting people from all walks of life and eating all sorts of foreign delicacies. But your parents wish for something more laid-back, so, on the first Sunday of August, after a six-hour drive, you get out of the car at Kellerman’s, a summer resort that belongs to your father’s old friend. You are to spend the rest of the month here, until the last day of the season.

The resort is truly a sight to behold. Even though it’s only four floors high, the main building is downright massive in terms of how much space it occupies. You can imagine the many rooms it must hold, such as the different restaurants and their respective kitchens, the ballroom and other leisure rooms, the stage for various shows, and some offices and apartments where the highest members of staff reside. Tables are scattered all across the front lawn, mainly older ladies and gentlemen sitting at them, drinking lemonade, playing cards, gossiping. You can make out a golf course and a small pond from afar, as well as the back lawn where you’re told most of the activities take place. Such activities include the outdoor dancing lessons, which your mother and sister Seeun want to get to immediately.

Max, your father’s friend, greets you as soon as you arrive as if he’s been waiting for you. Amused, you watch as they clasp each other’s hand before coming into an embrace, giving three hard but friendly pats to the other’s back. “So glad to finally have you here, Doc,” Max says earnestly. “I promise you, one week here and you’ll feel like you’ve never worked a day in your life, that’s how relaxed you’ll be.” Your father laughs and nods, and you turn your attention away when they start talking about work, and how life’s been, and how your daughters have grown, and other things you don’t care much for. 

You notice that a member of staff has begun to unload your numerous bags from the trunk, about half of which are your sister’s (“See, Mommy, I told you I should’ve brought those coral heels!” you hear her complain), and start helping him out. He turns to you with a smile as you haul a suitcase onto the trolley.

“Hey, thanks a lot! You looking for a job here?” he jokes, making you smile.

“Just wanted to help out, but I’ll let you know. I’m Baby, by the way.”

“Baby? Is that your real name?” he asks with an amused expression and a quizzical tilt to his head.

“No, but it’s what everyone calls me,” you beam back.

“Alright then, Baby. I’m Jake.” He wipes some sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand before extending it to you, and you take it, shaking it enthusiastically. 

Your conversation stops there when your father calls out your name, motioning for you to follow him and your mother and sister. “Come, Baby, let the staff do their work.” You give Jake an apologetic smile and wave him goodbye, but he simply shrugs and turns away, seemingly used to this kind of dismissal from guests.

“See you around, Baby,” you hear him say as you start to walk away.

-

Seeun only gives you a few minutes to settle into your shared room and unpack your suitcase before she practically drags you outside, eager to get to the dance class in time. Your older sister absolutely loves dancing. No matter where or with who, if there’s music, she’ll start moving. 

You, on the other hand, have two left feet, which doesn’t make dancing such a fun activity. You like it, but always feel you look like a fool. As for dancing with a partner, the intimacy that comes with it is too much for you, and isn’t something you particularly want to share with boys you barely know, nevermind complete strangers, like the people at the merengue class your sister is making you rush to. 

It takes place in the gazebo, which is wide enough to host about thirty guests and the instructor, who introduces herself as Chaewon. You try to follow her “1, 2, 1, 2” as best you can but it’s hard to focus on the rhythm when you have to avoid being stepped on by the lady to your left and stepping on the man to your right. Everything around you is turned upside down when she cheerfully calls out, “Let’s get into a circle! Gents on the outside, ladies on the inside! C’mon now!”

You manage to make your way into the inner circle, holding onto the hips of the woman in front of you, and finally start to sway to the rhythm a bit more. “Come on ladies! God wouldn’t have given you this body if he didn’t want you to shake it!” Chaewon shouts enthusiastically, emphasizing on the “shake” with a movement of her own.

“On the count of three,” she calls out, “ladies, you’ll turn around, and meet the man of your dreams! 1, 2, 3!”

You find yourself face to face with a grandma that had ended up in the gents’ circle and force on your best smile as you dance with her. She looks delighted, but that expression might just be stuck on her face permanently.

The class comes to an end and the afternoon with it, and you leave the bungalow while everyone gets ready for dinner, yelling out that you’re going to look around as you close the door behind you. It’s the early evening and the sun has just started to set, but not enough for the gentle breeze to be too cold. The small, round bushes and colorful flowers that line the pebbled path from the bungalows to the main building have been expertly tended to; there isn’t a stray weed, nor branch that hasn’t been cut properly nor a wilting plant. It’s all so perfect, it almost looks fake. Yet, when you bend down to feel a petal, it’s soft under your fingertips and very much real.

You walk on the porch that surrounds the main building until you reach the outside entrance to the restaurant. Max’s booming voice catches your attention and you’re able to peek through the ajar door, making sure you can’t be seen from where you stand. Your father’s friend sits at a table while the waiters stand in a half-circle in front of him, hands locked behind them and heads slightly bowed.

“Tonight’s the start of the second half of the season, so I’ll use this opportunity to set a little reminder. You’re here because I chose you lot from the most prestigious schools in the country and you need some financial help, correct?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “So do your job, and do it well. And if you want extra compensation, the gents here may be very generous if you show their daughters a good time and keep their wives happy. But no funny business, you keep your hands off. Got it?”

A quiet flurry of yeses is heard throughout the room just as a group of young people stride in, the sight of them piquing your interest. They’re wearing much more fitted and fashionable clothes compared to the waiters’ simple white vests and trousers, and carry themselves with a confidence you’ve only seen in celebrities and important people. The man that leads them particularly catches your attention: slicked-back hair, useless sunglasses now that the sun has set, all-black clothes, too much leather for the summer weather and the prettiest face you think you’ve ever seen to top it all off. He looks like an off-duty movie star.

“You hear that, boys? No funny business,” he says with a smirk to the group behind him, and they chuckle in response, eyeing the waiters up and down. They work at the same establishment, but they seem to be from two totally different worlds, you notice.

“I think you’re the one who should keep that in mind,” one of the waiters says just as the group passes by him, just loud enough for the other guy to hear. He reacts immediately to the taunt, spinning around and pointing a threatening finger to the waiter’s chest. 

“And I think you should heed your own advice, you jackass,” he spits, unfiltered venom in his voice. The waiter only smirks condescendingly, as if proud his remark had struck a nerve.

“Alright, alright, calm down, Sunghoon, and lay off of Heeseung. You’re booked and busy this week, and your whole entertainment team has work to do, okay?” Max says, tone stern as if telling a child off.

Sunghoon takes a step back but doesn’t look away from Heeseung as he scoffs a simple whatever. He then pivots back around and leads his team out of the room. You decide you’ve seen enough and turn around yourself, heading back to your family’s bungalow with quick steps.

Barely half an hour later, you’re back at the restaurant. The tables have all been set, the candles have been lit, a band is playing soft jazz in the corner, and the waiters are taking care of the guests’ orders and keeping them content. You’ve just sat down when Max himself approaches, introducing your waiter for tonight to your table. You try not to let your astonishment show when you instantly recognise him as the one who had had that scuff with Sunghoon earlier.

“Doc, this is Heeseung Lee, and he’ll take care of you tonight,” he addresses your father, a paternal hand around Heeseung’s shoulder. “He’s a third year med student at Harvard and has been working here every summer for the past three years. A very reliable and hardworking young man.” You feel like you’re being sold a car, but your father just smiles and nods approvingly at Heeseung.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Heeseung,” your father greets, holding out a hand for the young man to shake.

“The pleasure’s all mine, Doctor,” Heeseung responds, a most dazzling smile on his lips. If you hadn’t seen him earlier, you wouldn’t believe that this smile could turn snarky and patronizing.

“This is my wife, our eldest Seeun and our youngest Y/N, but we all call her Baby. She’s going to change the world,” your father introduces, beaming proudly at you.

“Yeah, and Seeun’s going to decorate it,” you say, turning to your sister. A bit unprovoked, perhaps, but this is just the way you and your sister have always been. You smile and tilt your head innocently as she glares at you.

“I think she already does,” Heeseung says, your eyebrow raising up in surprise as your sister looks down at her hands, the sudden compliment making her blush.

“Alright, Heeseung, go get these folks our best champagne. On the house!” Max exclaims, beaming at your parents.

“Yes, sir,” Heeseung says, bowing his head slightly to Max and your table before shooting your sister a smile and walking off. 

“Oh, and here’s someone else I want to introduce to you - Jay, come here! That’s my grandson Jay. Yale Business School,” Max says emphatically. Jay approaches your table quickly, a somewhat self-assured yet awkward smile on his face. He greets your parents and sister with a nod of his head until his eyes settle on you. “This is Baby, I was telling you about her earlier. She’s going to study at Yale too, and her dad says she’ll change the world!”

Jay’s lips form a pout, the kind of pout one makes when watching kittens play or a child running to his mother, as if he finds your ambitions endearing. Used to this kind of reaction from men, you raise your eyebrows and a small smile spreads on your face as if to say, “yep, that’s me.”

“How nice, Baby. But before you go off and do that, how about you save me a dance? Tomorrow night at the ball?” he offers, and the urge to kick him in the balls is hard to resist, but resist you must.

“Of course she will!” your father answers for you, and you have no choice but to put on your best fake smile, but none of the three men seem to see through it. If your mother and sister notice how annoyed you are, they don’t say anything. Knowing them, they probably think you’re being unreasonable if you’re not already throwing yourself at such an obviously intelligent and respectable young man.

That’s how you find yourself the next day, hands stiffly clasped behind Jay’s neck and his own on the sides of your waist, dancing with him to a slow-paced but lighthearted live song, although dancing might be an overstatement as it’s impossible to find a proper rhythm with someone as clumsy as him. You never thought you’d meet a worse dancer than you, but here you were. You have to keep yourself from snorting everytime he winces or tuts when you “accidentally” step on his foot, and you make sure to leave ample room between the two of you for the Holy Spirit.

Most of the dance is spent in awkward silence, probably due to the fact that Jay’s gaze, one that is perhaps meant to be seductive but only comes off as creepy, seems to linger on you for too long and too many times. When a pair of kids spins right by you, looking far more talented and serious in their dancing than the two of you, Jay seems to think he needs to step up his game and tightens his grip on your waist. Although you try to disguise it as best you can, the action makes you look up at him in alarm, and you have to stop yourself from visibly flinching when he bends down to say something in your ear although the music isn’t that loud.

“So, Yale, huh? What are you going to study? Design?”

“Um, Environmental Studies and Politics, actually. I’m particularly interested in how underdeveloped countries work and how we can change things there for the better, rather than making things worse,” you correct him, slightly raising your voice so he can hear you from where you’re standing. 

Jay is visibly taken aback by your detailed response, and all he can do is nod. “Right, right, that’s-”

To no one’s disappointment, you never find out what Jay was going to say next because right then, the music suddenly picks up and one of the musicians announces “Sunghoon and Chaewon of the Entertainment Team for a mambo demonstration” into his mic. Your ears perk up at the sound of those two vaguely familiar names, and you quickly recognise Sunghoon as the leather-clad man from earlier and Chaewon as the merengue class instructor from yesterday. He’s now wearing a black suit jacket and matching trousers with a tight white button-up, the clothes fitting him perfectly and making the muscles underneath them appear when the light hits him just right. On her is one of the most beautiful dresses you’ve ever seen, the red fringed fabric draping over her body like it was created for her, her toned upper back and arms on display.

The crowd of guests quickly forms a circle around the couple, giving them enough space to put on their show, and everyone, including you, is immediately enthralled by their performance. You’re mesmerized by how elegant and energetic at once their dance is, the smiles on their faces unfaltering and their legs and arms forming perfect lines at all times. Their posture is proud and their gazes are always fixed on each other even as they spin around, somehow never getting dizzy. They move in perfect synchronization as one entity rather than two separate people simply dancing together, and even though it is probably due to an impressive amount of practice, you can’t help but find that their chemistry is what makes them so fascinating. When he lifts her into the air, it’s with so little effort that she looks like she weighs no more than a feather. There is not a step out of place, and you’re reminded of those impeccable bushes and flowers from the day before. It makes you wonder how it is possible for two people to look so perfect together, and if that perfection is only superficial or not.

“Who are they?” you ask Jay, your curiosity about them greater than your aversion to talking to him.

From the corner of your eye, you see him looking surprised by your question before he leans in and answers. “Sunghoon Park and Chaewon Kim. They’re part of the dance people. Here to keep the guests happy and entertained.” He sighs, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head in discontentment. “They shouldn’t be showing off with each other like that, it won’t sell lessons. I’ll need to have a talk with them later.”

You barely register Jay’s words after he’s answered your question, your attention focused back on the dancers in front of you. On the other side of the room, you spot Max frowning at them and marching towards them. As soon as Sunghoon and Chaewon notice him, he waves them off and they separate, choosing a guest as their new partner to dance with, which you assume is their way of doing a taster session.

Jay drags you off to sit at a table and for the better part of an hour, you let him bore your ears off as he tells you either things he can’t fathom you’d already know even though you do, or things you couldn’t care any less about. It’s such a shame that a man with that handsome a face and that charming a smile would have the stalest of personalities, yet deem himself the most interesting man to walk the Earth. You nod and hum when you’re supposed to, and that’s all he needs to think you’re listening intently, when really you can’t stop thinking about the dancers you just saw, and even steal glances at them still dancing with some guests mere meters away from you. All you want to do is get up and get Sunghoon’s, or even Chaewon’s attention so they could show you how to move like them - just touching their shoulder or waist would be thrilling. But when you catch your mother’s eye a few tables away and she beams at you, two thumbs up in the air, you know you need to stay planted in your chair.

Thankfully, the amount of guests in the room starts to dwindle, and you use this dip in the evening to run off, telling Jay it’s getting late and you need to get back to your bungalow. You don’t let him try to convince you to stay back, and grab your purse, excitedly waving goodbye at him. He’s probably confused, but you’re too giddy at the prospect of finally leaving to care. 

You were on your way to the bungalow, you really were - but just as you reach it, light from a tall lodge about five hundred meters away catches your attention, and you’re too curious about the building you hadn’t noticed before not to investigate. So you continue walking up the small hill where all the guest lodgings rest until you find yourself before a sign that reads “STAFF QUARTERS - GUESTS KEEP OUT,” which you promptly decide to ignore.

In just a minute, a wooden bridge reveals itself, enabling you to cross over the current that separates you from the other bank, where the lodge stands. If you looked to your right, you could’ve made out some more, smaller and dingier-looking bungalows than the guests’ that hosted the staff behind all those trees, but you run into a familiar face before you can take notice of them.

“Hey! I recognize you. Baby, right?”

“Yeah, and you’re Jake!” you beam, surprised not only by seeing him again here, but by the three huge watermelons he carries in his arms like oversized newborn triplets. 

“Yeah…” he trails, squinting his eyes at you, his enthusiasm turning into suspicion. “You can’t be here. Max would kill me. Go back to the dance, Baby.” He can only take a few steps forward before you grab a watermelon from his unsteady hold, putting your most convincing smile on.

“I’ll help you carry these!” you state rather than offer, and march forwards across the bridge. Behind you, Jake sighs and shakes his head, then rushes to stop you in your tracks.

“Didn’t you read the sign? This area is staff only, you can’t be here,” he repeats, punctuating his words. He stays unwavering even at the receiving end of your very menacing glare, so you simply huff and stack the watermelon back on top of the other two and turn away. It takes him approximately two seconds to change his mind. “Can you keep a secret?”

Jake doesn’t prepare you for what you’re about to see when you enter the staff common lodge, but you don’t think anything could. The smell of a room full of people sweating and moving about hits you instantly, the heat it creates hanging heavy in the air. The breeze coming in through the open windows is practically useless in bringing the temperature down, but you aren’t curious to find out what it’d be like with the windows closed.

The music, a genre your father always bristles at when he hears it on the radio, is now blasting in your ears rather than whistling through the wind, and it takes you a few moments to adjust to the volume and intensity of the bass and drums bouncing off the walls of the room. The guitar sound is sensual and almost yearning, the singer longs for his lover, and the tempo is just fast enough for the dancers to find a swaying rhythm.

As if the lyrics themselves aren’t enough to make you blush, the way the staff dances makes you feel like you’re intruding on something. You try to look away as a couple thrusts their hips into each other’s, only to find another lowering themselves to the group until they’re crouching then slowly rising again, using each other as support the whole time. Skirts bunched up around hips, shirts almost fully unbuttoned or even discarded, hands grabbing onto the partner’s clothes or bare skin - you’ve never seen anyone dance that way. Far from the choreographed performances you’re used to, here, they’re simply letting their bodies move to the music without any second thoughts or a care in the world. You hadn’t even known this could be considered dancing, but surely, when your body molds itself this perfectly to the melody and your partner’s hands, then you can only be dancing. 

Watermelon in arms, you follow Jake as he snakes his way to the back of the room through sweaty bodies holding each other close. You recognise a few people here and there as the entertainment staff who host activities, teach dance classes or help guests find their way around. They peer back at you, expressions either confused or disdainful - you aren’t sure whether that’s because they don’t know who you are, or because they do and don’t like seeing you there. Even if they don’t know that you’re Baby, your dress at least is a dead giveaway of your being a guest. Your mom had picked it out for you - a white sleeveless summer dress that reaches almost to your knees and cinches in at the waist before flowing out over your hips. And no cleavage, of course. Along with your impeccably curled and styled hair, your prim and proper attire is a far cry from the short skirts, tight t-shirts and denim that the staff wears, revealing sunkissed skin and toned muscles. And if all of that still isn’t enough to tell you apart, then your wide eyes like a kid seeing fireworks for the first time should do it.

You finally reach the back of the room and set your watermelon on a bar counter. Jake rests his hands on his hips and watches the dancers, a smile on his face, the kind of smile you wear when you can never get enough of a sight even though you witness it everyday. You watch them too, but you must look a mix of fascinated and terrified - sure, they all look terrific, but if your dad caught you here, you’d be dead.

“Where’d they learn to do that?” you lean in to ask Jake as the next song starts playing, your gaze not leaving the dancers who adjust easily to the more upbeat tempo.

He looks at you, stunned. “Don’t you know? This is how the kids dance these days. This is what American basements look like on Friday nights.” His surprise turns into amusement and he steps in front of you, one hand extended for you to take and a mischievous look on his face. “Wanna try?”

Your eyes immediately double in size and you shake your hands in front of you, but he grabs one of them anyway and starts leading you back into the middle of the room. You’re saved by the doors suddenly bursting open, catching everyone’s attention. In run Sunghoon and Chaewon, wearing the same clothes from earlier, although Sunghoon has ditched the suit jacket and popped the top buttons of his shirt open. Your stomach flips at the sight of his flushed cheeks and hair slick with sweat.

Jake chuckles when he sees how transfixed you are by the two of them, dancing so differently from earlier, their moves far more sexual, hands not so polite anymore, completely free to do whatever they wish. Rather than a smile, Sunghoon wears a small frown and bites his bottom lip, deepening his dimples, and it all seems to make each of his moves that much harsher. The sheer sex appeal that he exudes is absolutely undeniable, and it makes you feel things you’ve never felt before - things you’re not quite unsure how to name. You let out a small gasp as Chaewon jumps and hooks her legs around his hips effortlessly, then as she leans her upper body back until her head almost touches the ground. Sunghoon’s hands are tight around her waist and his biceps apparent under the thin fabric of his dress shirt. You realize how strong Sunghoon must be when he carries her all the way to his shoulders, letting her rest her knees there as she plays with her skirt and swings her head from side to side. You’ve never seen anyone look so good while having so much fun.

“They look great together,” you blurt out without thinking.

“Don’t they?” Jake says, looking out at them with a fond smile. “You’d think they were a couple.”

This makes your head pivot towards Jake. “Well, aren’t they?”

“Not since we were kids, no. They’ve just been dancing together for so long that they’ve developed this- this chemistry and understanding of each other, I guess.” 

“Do you know them well?”

“Sunghoon’s my best friend from home. He met Chaewon when he started working here when we were 16, and then he got me this job when we were 17. The three of us are 22 now.” He meets your gaze and his smile grows wider. “Why, you interested?”

The sudden question (and the very obvious, very embarrassing answer) takes you aback and you stammer out a few nonsensical syllables before frowning at him. Your reaction just seems to amuse him. “No, I’m not. Just asking,” you manage to say.

He looks back at them, and you follow his gaze. “Well, good, cause we’re not allowed to get involved with the guests anyway. Which is why you shouldn’t be here in the first place.”

Just then, the song ends and Sunghoon and Chaewon laugh before they separate, finding another partner to dance with. As Chaewon heads towards someone else, Sunghoon catches your stare and walks to where you and Jake stand, eyes fixed on your face. You feel small under his gaze, but you will your knees not to buckle underneath you, although that’s hard to do when his eyes sweep your figure, giving you a once-over.

“What’s she doing here?” he questions Jake without looking away from you.

“That’s Baby, she came with me,” Jake says, not really answering the question.

“I carried a watermelon,” you blurt, not really answering the question either, but that seems to satisfy Sunghoon. His eyebrows raise slightly before he heads back to the dancefloor and starts dancing again. You release a breath you hadn’t known you were holding, but another one catches right in your throat when, after barely thirty seconds, he pivots back around as if there was still something he was curious about. His eyes stay focused on you, unreadable.

And then, he bows his head slightly, looks up at you through his eyebrows, raises his hand, and beckons you to him with his index finger. As if spellbound, your feet move on their own until you find yourself in front of him, his hands reaching immediately for your hips and holding on tight there. All the nerves in your body are on edge and your heartbeat speeds up, almost matching the fast tempo of the song resonating throughout the room. Simply remembering to breathe becomes an arduous task. Jake’s voice is a faint sound as he says, “So you go dance with him, but not me?”

This kind of dancing is completely unfamiliar to you, so you have no idea what to do. Thankfully, Sunghoon doesn’t seem to expect anything else, and he knows how to guide you so that you get the gist of it. “Keep your eyes on me,” he commands quietly, gesturing with two fingers for your gaze to stay on his. “And move your hips in a circle, just like that,” he adds, executing the move for you to mirror. “Just relax, you’re too stiff. Relax your arms. Put them around my shoulders.” His hands brush down from your shoulders to your wrists, sending a trail of fire all along your arms, grabbing them and resting them on his shoulders himself before settling back on your waist. His arm snakes its way around it, bringing you closer to him. You aren’t sure what’s more electrifying, his gaze or his touch.

You start to focus on the music and on getting your body to move along to it, and it feels like a miracle when your hips, firmly pressed against his own, sway side-to-side in rhythm. Remembering what you saw earlier, you lean back slightly, hips still moving in small circles, trusting him to keep you from falling. You lean back as far as you can, and something about it is so liberating, you feel the adrenaline rushing through your body as if it’s the only thing keeping you alive. When you come back up, your palms are flat against his chest and he looks at you with a proud but surprised smirk that lits your insides up. “Just like that,” he whispers, but his face is close enough for you to hear him over the music.

He spins you around a few times, and as quickly as he appeared, he’s already gone, having weaved his way through the crowd back towards Jake. It takes you a few seconds to register his absence, but when it does, it’s like all the warmth he filled you with is gone; you’re left only with the heavy heat weighing the room down and you with it, when you’d felt light like air not a moment ago.

Before you can decide on what to do next, someone taps your shoulder, and you turn around to find Heeseung frowning down at you. In the fraction of a second, you can tell this is the snarky Heeseung that you’d seen when you were snooping around the day before rather than the polite Heeseung that had waited your table that night.

“Baby, right? I don’t know what you’re doing here, but your sister and parents are looking all over for you. If I were you, I’d go now, and quick.”

Alarm shoots through you as you realize you’d been here for twenty minutes at least, the sort of absence that wouldn’t go unnoticed by your family this late at night. You thank him rapidly and practically run towards the door before risking a look back at Jake and Sunghoon, still standing in the corner of the room. Jake looks worried, so you send him a thumbs up, but Sunghoon simply peers at you, sipping on a beer as his back rests against the wall, that same unreadable look from before back on his face. You don’t linger to figure it out and rush to your bungalow, coming up with an excuse that you got lost on your way back for your parents to believe. Because their Baby would never do anything she isn’t supposed to, right?

That night, as you toss and turn in bed, trying to fall asleep, your mind wanders off to those warm, big hands firmly planted on your waist, and how they had guided your body until it moved on its own accord, until it let itself go and only followed the rhythm. How far can you go until your body no longer belongs to you but rather to the music, or to the person holding you close, you wonder? And if that happened, would you, for a moment at least, no matter how fleeting, be freed of all your worries for your future and of all the pressure on your shoulders?

Your feet already ache - from dancing or from wanting to dance some more, you can’t quite tell.

-

Every year when August comes, it takes you by surprise how early the sun sets. Just as you’d gotten used to the sky still being fairly light by 10 p.m., it was already getting dark at nine. This is what you think about a few nights later as you look out at the dark sky, the bright full moon and the hundreds of stars lighting it up. You’re standing next to the gazebo with your parents as you watch other guests dancing about; clearly, since you’re thinking about the state of the sky and the sun in the summer, you’re very entertained. Your sister has managed to become friends with some of the other guests’ kids, as well as some of the staff, and has even formed a budding romance with Heeseung, which your parents have made it obvious they approve of. This means that she is excused of any activities she might not want to partake in, while you have to follow your parents everywhere.

Your gaze follows Sunghoon as he dances with an older woman, guiding her through the dance and teaching her a few steps. You can’t help but frown slightly at his forced smile when she lets her hands wander a bit too far down his back, and you wonder why he doesn’t say anything when he looks so obviously uncomfortable.

“You see that woman over there?” you hear Max ask your father as he motions to the lady dancing with Sunghoon. “Vivian Kim. We call women like her bungalow bunnies. Their husbands work all week and only come back on weekends. That dancer Park Sunghoon is pretty popular with them, if you know what I mean,” he comments with a dark chuckle. “But I gotta pretend like I don’t know any better, otherwise the wives are unhappy. And if the wives are unhappy, so are the husbands, and then I lose money.”

You daze out of the conversation when you see Jay approaching, his steps quick and headed directly towards Sunghoon. “Where’s Chaewon?” he questions impatiently, taking no notice of Vivian, who seems to take no notice of him either and continues swaying her hips to the music.

“What do you mean where’s Chaewon? She’s on a break, Chaewon needs a break,” Sunghoon bites back, tone just as harsh as Jay’s. That seems to shut Jay up, and he just squints at him before turning his head to where you’re standing. His whole demeanor changes instantly as he walks towards you, that smile one would reserve for children that he always looks at you with.

“Hey Baby, wanna go on a walk?” he asks, but with the intent way your parents, Max and Jay himself are peering down at you, you know you don’t have much of a choice.

You put on your best forced smile and take his extended hand. “Sure, Jay.”

He takes you to a small wooden bridge that overpasses a small but feisty current. The walk there is fairly silent, which you’re thankful for, because it’s easier to pretend Jay isn’t here when he’s not talking, but the fantasy is shattered everytime he sighs and hums contentedly. It’s like he thinks spending five minutes without talking will make the world implode, and he has to make some kind of noise to keep the balance.

When you reach the bridge, you lean back against the rail, and he leans on his side, apparently so he can look at you better. “I love to watch your hair blow in the breeze,” he says after a few moments, and it takes everything in you to keep your laughter in at the sudden romanticism.

“You know, not to brag,” he starts, and you know he’s about to say the most pretentious thing you’ve ever heard, “but around here, I’m known as the catch of the county.” He’s smiling, but you know he’s being fully serious. “I mean, it makes sense, doesn’t it? I’m handsome, parents love me, and I go to the best school in the country. People ask me, ‘well, what’s the difference between you and any other guy at Yale,’ and I say, ‘five hotels and a million-dollar inheritance!’” He bursts laughing like he’s just made the funniest joke ever, although you’re not sure where the joke is. You chuckle awkwardly and nod, remembering your mother’s advice - when in doubt, just nod. You’re not particularly in doubt, but you’re also not sure how to respond to such ostentatious self-praise.

To your great despair, Jay is about to open his mouth again, but a voice coming from the exit of the forest near you stops him in his tracks. “Heeseung, please, you have to help me with this-,” the voice says, and you recognize it quickly as Chaewon’s.

“I told you, it’s none of my damn business.”

“But it is! Please!” she shouts back. He walks ahead of her and she tries to catch up to him, and just like that, they’re already gone without having noticed you or Jay.

A hand placed delicately on your shoulder snaps you from your thoughts. You turn to Jay who has a sad look in his eyes and who sighs as if pained to say what he has to say next. “You know, Baby, sometimes, in this world, you’ll see things you don’t want to see. And sometimes, you can’t do anything about them. It’s all part of growing up,” he finishes, his tone self-important like he’s just taught you a world of knowledge. 

“You hungry?” he suddenly adds, all cheery. “C’mon, eating something might take your mind off of this. We can go to the kitchens and get you anything you’d like.”

He indeed takes you to the restaurant kitchens, completely empty due to the late hour. He opens up a fridge, and even though he basically does, the way he acts like he owns the place makes you wince. “So, what have we here? Some smoked salmon canapés, some ham sandwiches… ooh, brownies! What else…” he trails off, but your attention has been caught by something else. 

You can hear someone snuffling somewhere in the room, and when you lean to the side to peer behind the wall, you can make out a female figure crouched down in the dark. She’s trembling from head-to-toe, and when she lifts her head to look at you, you recognize her as Chaewon. You’ve never seen anyone looking so scared.

Thinking quickly, you grab Jay by the shoulders, smiling at him as you say, “You know what, I don’t think I’m actually that hungry, let’s just head back to the gazebo, yeah?”

For once, you’re the one who doesn’t let him answer your question and you speed out of the kitchens and back to the gazebo. You find Jake immediately, rushing to him to tell him what you saw, and he in turn rushes to Sunghoon, who apologizes and drops his dancing partner’s hand as soon as he hears what’s going on. Ignoring Jay’s confused look, you run with them back to the kitchens, from which Chaewon hasn’t moved an inch.

Sunghoon sits next to her, taking her in his arms and helping her up. “It’s okay, you’re okay, I’m here now. Everything’s fine. Let’s get you back to my room, okay? It’ll be quiet there,” he coos, getting her snuffles to calm down and her breath to steady itself.

Since none of them tell you to go back, you follow along, Chaewon in Sunghoon’s arms in front and you and Jake not too far behind. “What’s wrong with her?” you ask Jake quietly.

“She’s pregnant.”

“Jake!” Sunghoon calls out indignantly, sending him a look as if to warn him.

“What? It’s not like she’d tell anyone.”

“Still, it’s none of her business,” Sunghoon replies, glancing briefly at you.

“And what’s he gonna do about it?” you can’t help but ask. This makes Sunghoon pivot on his heel and Chaewon frowns at the sudden movement.

“‘What’s he gonna do about it?’” he repeats, venom in his voice. “Oh of course, cause it’s my baby. Of course you’d assume that,” he practically spits at you. You try to stutter out a response, but nothing comes up. How could you not assume that, when you’ve only seen him taking care of her like she’s his responsibility?

You thought all staff lived in small bungalows, but the place you reach is more like a one-person studio. Sunghoon sits Chaewon down on a couch, covers her shoulders with a blanket and brings her a tall glass of water.

“So, whose is it then?” you ask again, eyes darting back and forth between the three figures that stare back at you. Sunghoon starts towards you, an accusing finger out, but Chaewon stops him.

“It’s fine, Sunghoon.” She sighs then lifts her gaze to look at you. Her eyes seem drained, like her tears took everything out of her. “It’s Heeseung’s,” she answers plainly, and you think your eyes bulge out of your face. What you’d witnessed earlier starts to make more sense in your head.

Next to you, Jake looks like he’ll explode if he has to keep in the words he wants to say any longer. “That bastard Heeseung. She needs money to get an operation, and she needs it soon, but he doesn’t give a shit,” Jake spits.

“But, Heeseung, he’s got money, I’m sure if you just ask him, he’ll-”

“Baby? Is that your name?” Chaewon asks softly, interrupting you. “Well, you don’t know shit about my problems, Baby,” she continues, her tone doing a 180. “You don’t think I’ve asked him? You don’t think he knows?”

“But-”

“Go back to your playpen, Baby,” she dismisses you, a finality to her tone. Sunghoon just glares at you while Jake shrugs, so you decide there’s nothing you can do than leave, and head back to your bungalow, heart heavy, but determined to help Chaewon out. There has to be something you can do, you just know it.

-

The next day, you pretend to help Heeseung set the tables for the lunch service to have a talk with him. You waste no time starting your interrogation, not even greeting him before diving straight into it.

“I know about Chaewon, Heeseung. You need to help her out,” you say sternly, using a random water pitcher you’d found at the entrance to fill up crystal glasses.

“Well hello to you too, Baby,” he says with a sarcastically sweet tone. His fake smile drops when he sees you won’t play into his game. “I don’t need to do anything,” he scoffs. “Not like it’s any of your business anyway.”

“Haven’t you seen her? You can’t leave her alone in a time like this, she needs your help. Even if it’s mostly financial help. It’s the least you can do.”

“Girls like her, they get into trouble all the time, okay? Hey, watch what you’re doing!” he whisper-yells when water spills over one of the glasses, not wanting to rouse the suspicion of any of the diners around.

“Yeah, because of guys like you,” you bite back, but he ignores you.

“She was bound to get knocked up at some point, going around like that.” You follow as he moves on the next table. 

“So you’re not going to do anything? Just put her in a bad situation and then run away?”

He finally turns to face you, looking at you like he’s exasperated, like you’re the bad guy here. “That girl’s not my problem, okay? She brought this upon herself.”

You take a step closer to him, a fakely sweet smile plastered on your lips. “You’re a jerk, Heeseung. You stay away from me, stay away from my sister, or I’ll have you fired.” You then raise the jug of water up to his chest, and keep that same smile as you pour it on him before marching away, ignoring the gasps that echo all around the room and Heeseung as he yells at you to come back.

-

Your mom is struggling to get the ball in when you find your parents on one of the many golf courses. Your dad smiles as he sees you nearing them, asking you if everything’s alright.

“Daddy.”

“Baby?” he answers, looking amused by your seriousness.

“You know how you say I should always do my best to help out others when they need it?”

“Of course.”

“Well, I’ve got friends who need some help.”

“What kind of help?” he asks, slightly frowning as he realizes you’re not being serious for no reason.

You take a big breath in. “Money.” You don’t like asking your dad for money, but it’s the only solution you’ve come up with.

“And just how much money?”

“Three hundred dollars?” you say, your sentence coming out like a question as you slightly wince in apprehension.

Your father sighs. “That’s a serious amount of money, Baby. This isn’t anything illegal, is it?” he adds after a beat, taking you aback. Is this illegal? If it is, your father doesn’t need to know it.

“No, no, of course not, Daddy,” you say, trying your best at a reassuring smile. It seems to work, because his expression softens and he smiles back.

“Of course not,” he repeats, “I should know that.” He takes you in his arms. “I’ll have the money ready for you tonight.” You hug him back, thanking him before skipping away to whatever activity you might find to distract yourself before the evening.

-

After dinner, when your dad’s given you an envelope filled with cash, you throw a quick excuse your parents’ way before rushing to the staff quarters, making sure no one sees you on your way there. The music emanating from the common room makes you hopeful you’ll find the people you’re looking for.

And indeed, you do - Sunghoon and Chaewon are holding each other close, her head resting on his chest, and swaying together to the slow and sensual rhythm of the music at the back of the room when you find them. You feel a ping of something uncomfortable in your heart but ignore it and head straight towards them. Chaewon turns around when you tap on her shoulder, her and Sunghoon both looking at you with unmasked animosity, but you just smile as you hand her the envelope. Jake notices you and walks over to stand next to his cousin.

“Here you go. I hope it’s enough,” you say, relieved to see her surprised but ecstatic expression when she opens the envelope and sees all the bills in there. Jake wears a similar expression but Sunghoon just leers down at you.

“Oh my God, Baby, this is amazing,” Chaewon exclaims in disbelief. “How did you get Heeseung to change his mind?”

You purse your lips. “It wasn’t Heeseung…”

She frowns slightly but her eyes widen at the realization that if it isn’t from Heeseung, it has to be from you. “Oh, Baby, thank you so much,” she murmurs.

“Yeah, takes a real saint to ask daddy,” Sunghoon says sarcastically. Chaewon’s head snaps towards you and she starts to shake her head, forcing the envelope back into your hands.

“I can’t accept it, then.”

“Why not?” you, Sunghoon and Jake blurt at the same time.

“Who cares where it comes from? You need the money,” Sunghoon says, trying to persuade her, but she just continues to shake her head.

“It doesn’t feel right. And I can’t go to the appointment anyway,” she chuckles defeatedly, and Sunghoon looks at Jake in confusion.

“I can only get her an appointment next Thursday, when you guys have your act at the Sheldrake,” he explains guiltily, as if it’s his fault.

“For fuck’s sake,” Sunghoon breathes out, looking up to the ceiling in despair, hands on his hips.

“Can’t you miss just that one night?” you ask innocently, but apparently it is the stupidest question on earth, judging from the harsh glare Sunghoon fixes you with.

“No, we can’t miss just that one night. This is our job, and if we cancel the Sheldrake, not only do we lose this summer’s salary, but also next summer’s gig. Our livelihoods depend on this,” he hisses.

“So… can’t someone fill in?” you ask again, and wince when he raises his tone.

“No, Little Miss Fix-It, someone can’t fill in. Everybody works here, unlike you. Unless you wanna do it,” he adds after a pause, chuckling sarcastically, “take some time off of Simon Says?”

You can only glare back at him, even though you couldn’t look as condescending as him if you tried. You’re just trying to help them out and find solutions, no need to be so rude about it. Jake looks back and forth between the two of you, a look on his face like he’s thinking things over.

“You know, maybe she could do it. You weren’t so bad last time, were you, Baby?” he says, eyebrows raised at you as he waits for your answer, a hopeful look on his face that makes you feel bad for letting him down.

You shake your head fervently - learning a complicated choreography and performing it in front of an audience is unthinkable to you. “No, no, I can’t even do the merengue.”

“C’mon!” he insists.

“You heard her, Jake, she can’t even do the merengue,” he repeats, adding venom to the words.

Chaewon doesn’t seem to think this is such a bad idea either. “But Sunghoon, you could teach anyone to dance, you’re an amazing leader,” she says eagerly, but Sunghoon just rolls his eyes and sighs.

“The act is in a week, even if I was the best teacher in the world, she couldn’t learn the whole routine in that time. It’s a lost cause,” he sneers, his gaze fixated harshly on you. You’re not sure whether the lost cause refers to the situation or to you.

You squint your eyes at him, trying to match his gaze. It’s one thing that you think it’s a bad idea, but it’s a whole other thing now that he’s so against it. Jake’s right - you weren’t that bad last week, you’re sure you could be an okay replacement. Sunghoon raises an eyebrow at you as if in challenge.

Challenge accepted, you think.

-

“Now it’s one, two, three, four,” Sunghoon says, synchronizing each number to the beat of the music. “You don’t dance ‘til the two.” This is probably the fifth time he tells you this in the past half-hour, and although you know what you’re meant to do, your body will simply not listen to your head.

You’re in the dance studio, trying as hard as you can to get your body to shape itself into what Sunghoon wants it to be. Arms up at shoulder-level, core engaged, back straight, head proud. He may repeat those directions over and over again, you aren’t used to holding yourself like that, and it’s a lot harder than it seems, even though he makes it look so natural.

He moves the tonearm of the record player so that the music starts from the beginning again and walks towards you, his stern gaze never leaving your eyes as if to say, “you better not mess it up this time.” It makes the room feel a lot hotter than it actually is, and the strong summer heat coming in from the open windows doesn’t help.

You can’t help but wonder if Sunghoon is this impatient with all of his students - surely he’d be out of a job if he actually behaved like this with the fancy ladies of the resort, so he must have some kind of problem with you. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out that he isn’t the fondest of you, anyway. The fact that you’re only doing this to help him out and not for your own pleasure seems lost on him, but you’d rather not aggravate the situation by pointing that out.

His hands firmly holding yours, his gaze still fixed on your face, you hear your cue approaching and tell yourself “on the two, on the two, on the two,” but it’s no use, your foot starts to move a beat too early. But this time, Sunghoon anticipates your movement and says, softer than you expect ‘no,’ and you put your foot back down instead of stepping on his like countless times before. Then he instructs ‘now’, and you finally get it right, getting into the flow of the music properly. You repeat this process a few more times, and only take a break when he’s sure you won’t make mistakes anymore.

You’re halfway through a one-liter bottle of water when you hear him say, “Finally got the basic footwork down, only took an hour.” You scoff at the snarky remark and are about to come back at him with something just as petty, but you notice the shadow of a smile on his lips, more playful than patronizing, so you bite it back and try to suppress a smile of your own. With Sunghoon, you’ll take what you can get.

He doesn’t give you more than another minute of break, ignoring your complaints and urging you back towards him in the center of the room. “Let’s move on to the second part.”

You only have a week to get ready, so you practice like crazy, Sunghoon trying to reduce his working hours as much as possible and you slipping away from your parents and sister whenever you can. You go over the steps on your own, taking any opportunity to do so, whether that’s when you find yourself alone in your family’s rental or as you walk back across the bridge and lawn to the main grounds, letting your body move to the music in your head.

When she can make it, Chaewon also comes to practice with you. Her presence is always helpful - she sometimes stands behind you, holding you by the hips and correcting your posture, sometimes replaces either you or Sunghoon so you can watch her and mirror her moves from different perspectives. 

Although she was originally wary and dismissive of you, when she saw how intent you were on helping her, a complete stranger, out, her view of you completely changed. You can tell how thankful she is by the constant kindness she shows you, encouraging you to compensate for Sunghoon’s lack of praise.

Indeed, all three of you are surprised and happy to see how quickly you’re progressing, but Sunghoon has a knack for keeping his emotions behind a veil and his praises to a minimum. Sure, that means his compliments, his small ‘you did well today’ or ‘good job’ make you blush a little redder, but you wouldn’t complain if they were more frequent, either.

What he can’t hide from you, however, is that he is clearly starting to become more tolerant of your presence. You’d like to say you knew all along that he would soften up eventually, but truth is, you were scared he was going to stay this cold for the length of your time together, so it comes as even more of a relief when he stops reprimanding you so harshly for small mistakes or when he smiles along with you as you celebrate getting through a big chunk of the routine flawlessly for the first time. When one day, he actually laughs with you instead of berating you, you almost explode in on yourself out of joy. You convince yourself that those butterflies you feel erupting in your stomach is because it’s so surprising to see someone usually so guarded letting himself go a bit more, that it isn’t just the simple sound of his laughter making you feel lightheaded.

On the fourth day of practice, you manage to find enough time to practice for almost three hours in a row. Towards the end of the session, after feeling like you were about to pass out due to extortion, you have a strange surge of energy. Sunghoon, on the other hand, has almost exhausted his very impressive stamina, but still wants to go through what you’ve learned up until now.

The music starts, and you don’t know if it was this surge of energy, or if it was Sunghoon’s tired expression that made you want to tease him, but you decide it’d be funny to repeat back to him the directions he always gives you - you know them by heart at this point. 

“Hey! Head up,” you joke as you face each other again after a spin. “Lock your frame. Wiggly arms!” You’re happy to see he laughs along with you, shaking his head in amused disbelief at you.

The laughter immediately halts, however, when at the end of the routine, because of your lack of concentration, your foot slips and you find yourself much closer to him than necessary for the ending pose. Your breath hitches in your throat, and your cheeks immediately burn up. After a long moment, Sunghoon looks away, clearing his throat, and you take a big step back from him as if being any nearer might make you spontaneously combust.

“That was, um, that was good today. Good job,” he says quickly, then rushes to grab his stuff and leave the room. Forget the proximity the two of you were just in - was that a flustered Sunghoon you got to see? And was it because of you? It’s almost unfathomable that you could render him shy like that, but a small smirk plays on your lips at the idea of it.

Over the week, you start reaching for the thin tank tops and shorts you own, and steal some of Seeun’s lipgloss and mascara. If Sunghoon notices it, he doesn’t say anything. But perhaps, you’re the one who hasn’t noticed the way he glances at you in the mirror when you take a break or practice on your own, how he can’t help raking his eyes over your body when you aren’t looking, unable to reign his curiosity in. That you might want to get some kind of a reaction out of him doesn’t even cross his mind - because no matter how attractive he may be, he can’t imagine that a serious, educated girl like you with big plans for the future might be interested in a guy like him.

So even if his iciness thaws a bit, he doesn’t let it show that having you around messes with his head, and stays a stern instructor who wants you to get the routine down to a T. “We can’t afford to make any mistakes,” he always says. But there’s something about the way he delivers his instructions sometimes that makes it impossible for you to concentrate on the dance. He’s always either dancing with you, your bodies just a foot apart, or sitting on the floor close to you and watching you, so he doesn’t need to speak so loud for you to hear him. It’s this quietness mixed with the strictness of his tone that makes your insides completely melt. Soft yet rigid, intimate yet steely. 

“Don’t put your heel down, stay on your toes.” 

“Keep your eyes focused on me, especially when you’re spinning.” 

“Always keep your core and your head straight.” 

Words that have no double-meaning whatsoever, yet it doesn’t take long for you to start wondering if he keeps this tone everywhere. Whenever those thoughts cross your mind, you’re practically unable to look him in the eye and speak without stammering. He makes you dizzier than the spins you practice.

It’s on the fifth day that you realize how deep your infatuation with Sunghoon truly is. The routine isn’t exceptionally long, so after five days of practicing, you have all the steps down, except for the lifts which he keeps putting off for later. He watches you do it on your own, and although he admits you know it in and out, he said there’s still something missing. The pang of disappointment you feel at his words soon turns into anticipation as he comes to stand in front of you, closer than usual, and brings your hand to his chest, keeping both of his own over yours.

“Feel this?” he says, voice almost a whisper. By now, you’ve gotten used to the intensity with which he always stares at you, but this time seems different; there’s something more vulnerable, more intimate about his gaze, something you don’t quite understand. You just stare right back at him, unable to look away.

You aren’t sure what he means so you lightly shake your head no. “Here,” he insists, pressing your hand more firmly to his chest, and it clicks. He wants you to feel his heartbeat. Your eyebrows jump slightly, and his lips form a small smile at your realization. “Close your eyes.” he says softly, and you do as told. 

“The steps aren’t enough, Baby. You have to feel the music. It’s within you, it’s within me, it’s within all of us. You just gotta find it.” This was something you’d heard a lot of times before, said by singers on the radio, by some of your friends in the high school choir - that they felt the music. But you’d never quite understood what they meant until now, until Sunghoon showed you. With two fingers, he starts tapping against the back of your hand to the rhythmic beat of his heart. 

“Du-dum, du-dum. Feel it now?” he asks, and you nod, too transfixed to produce actual words. His smile widens, and your heart swells because of his expression, more affectionate than you’ve ever seen it. 

“Now dance.”

Your body moves as if of its own accord, the moves now ingrained in your muscles and coming as a reflex to you. Together, you go through the whole routine with no music. You hadn’t needed to check yourself in the mirror to know you did perfectly - the smile on Sunghoon’s face tells you enough.

When the evening rolls around, there’s a lightness to your demeanor that both confuses and delights your parents, but even if they asked you to explain what happened, you don’t think you’d be able to find the words to do so.

-

Sure, Sunghoon doesn’t look at you like he hates you with every fiber of his being anymore, and he even dares crack a smile or laugh once in a while, but it’s not like you’re the best of friends either. There are still moments when he gets frustrated with you - one of those being the time you practice the opening of the routine. He hadn’t yet taught you that part, but as soon as he showed it to you, you understood why.

You stand back to him, heads turned towards each other. Your heights match perfectly so that, when standing so close together, his lips are right in your eyeline. His beautiful, plump, kissable lips that you find yourself thinking about too many times.

Your left arm stays by your side but your right arm is raised so that he can trail his fingertips all the way from your hand down to your waist - a sensual move that, despite setting the tone for the routine, you are not at all ready to perform. Not because it requires any kind of complex technique or years of practice, far from that, but because you don’t yet have the professionalism that Sunghoon, Chaewon and other performers like them have. Nevermind his fingers brushing past your armpit, which is obviously a ticklish place, you can’t handle the seriousness that comes with such intimacy, nor can you resist the urge to laugh every time. This, of course, does not please Sunghoon.

The first couple times it happens, he just rolls his eyes and sighs, thinking you just need to get your head in the dance and then you’d be fine. So he gets back into position, again, again, and again, and even though your full-blown laughters turn into quieter snorts or chuckles, you still can’t find it in you to keep a straight face. 

After the sixth time, his patience runs out. You can tell he wants to blow up at you by the redness of his face and the iciness of his stare, but when he speaks, he doesn’t raise his voice - his tone is so harsh that there’s no need for it. 

“You pull yourself together, or we’re done here.”

Whether he means you’re done for the day, or completely done with the practice, meaning all your efforts this week go to waste and you don’t perform on Saturday, you aren’t sure, but you don’t think this is the right time to question him. You get back into position, and finally, on the seventh try, you don’t laugh. After so many times, his touch doesn’t tickle so much - rather, it burns. Now, instead of resisting laughter, you have to keep yourself from completely melting under his touch.

But then, you realize that this is what you’ve been daydreaming about this whole time - to have him close, to have him touch you. Even though this was still part of the routine, the point of this move was to show the chemistry between the two dancers, the attraction they needed to, or at least pretend to, have for each other to take the performance from good to mesmerizing. Good thing you didn’t need to pretend.

Of course, Sunghoon has touched your waist and shoulders thousands of times by now, but after so many days together, you start to crave a different kind of touch, and in different places. You never let yourself relish too much in the warmth of his palms for fear of getting too used to it, and, worse than anything, missing it when he’s gone - as if that wasn’t already the case. But with this opening move, you can finally let yourself melt under his touch and play it off as being really into the dance. If anything, he’d probably be glad you’re letting your reserves go.

And so you do. Eyes closed, head tilted towards him and slightly back, revealing more of your neck, you feel his fingertips brush along your side until they reach your hand, and you start dancing. For the two minutes of the routine, you aren’t even thinking of the steps anymore, only looking into his eyes and letting your muscle memory do the work for you.

At the end, you stay in the final pose for a few seconds longer than usual, looking into each other’s eyes. Sunghoon isn’t the most expressive person ever, so you’d quickly learned how to decipher the slightest changes in his face. In this moment, he looks at you like he sees you for the first time, really sees you, with something like pride in his eyes. You smile at each other, and his next words make your heart skip a beat in surprise at first, then swell in satisfaction.

“I think that was the best you’ve danced so far. If you do it like this on Saturday night, it’ll be perfect.”

-

However, there’s one last thing you needed to learn: lifts. Sunghoon has been putting them off almost the whole week, saying you’d get to them later, that you needed to get the other steps down before. There are two in the routine, and whenever one comes up, Sunghoon says “that’s for later,” and keeps going with the dance. Except later never comes, and soon enough, you only have a day left to learn and perfect those lifts. The stress of not mastering them on time starts to get to your head, and your stress must be contagious, because Sunghoon explodes for the first (and only) time on Friday afternoon when you make a mistake in the basic steps.

“Are you kidding me?” he suddenly yells, taking a wide step back away from you and looking at you with uncharacteristic anger. Sure, he wasn’t always the most pleasant with you, and you were no stranger to Sunghoon’s expressions of or dislike, but you hadn’t seen anger on him until now. No matter how beautiful he is, you have to admit this isn’t his best look.

“What?” you respond, voice at the same level as his, not understanding his sudden burst of impatience.

“What?! This is a basic step you shouldn’t even be thinking about anymore, let alone not get right. The performance is tomorrow, you can’t be making stupid mistakes now!” He sighs in frustration and tears his gaze away from you for a moment, then looks back, his eyes hard. “Is this your idea of fun?”

You scoff and cross your arms over your chest. “My idea of fun? You really think I’m doing this for fun?” He doesn’t say anything, just keeps on staring at you. “I’ve been breaking my back and sneaking around for almost a whole week just to save your ass, I don’t get anything out of it, and you have the nerve to ask me if I’m doing this for fun?” You can see he wants to say something, but you don’t let him. “Oh, and I’m glad you seem to remember the performance is tomorrow, because I’ll have you know you still haven’t taught me those damn lifts! How can you get mad at me for a small mistake when you won’t even teach me the whole routine?!”

You’re out of breath after screaming so loud and so quickly, but still Sunghoon doesn’t move for a few seconds, until suddenly, he pivots and walks towards the door. At the threshold, he turns to you and tells you to follow him, as if that should have been obvious. He doesn’t give you any time for questions so you run after him. Outside, a heavy summer rain is coming down, and your clothes are soaked through after just ten seconds. You walk a few steps behind him as he heads to his car, muttering a curse under his breath when he realizes he’s forgotten his keys inside the locked vehicle. You let out a small shriek when he breaks one of the backseat windows to open the door from inside, reaching for his keys still resting in the ignition. You just stand there, watching him in confusion, until he calls to you from the driver’s seat. “C’mon! There’s a place I need to show you.”

You know it’s a bad idea - you’ve already been gone for over an hour, and if you leave with him for God knows how much longer, your parents would start to wonder where you are. But there’s something about his face, his anger that had completely disappeared and let way for what seemed like excitement, the rain pouring down and the loud sound of his car’s motor; it all creates a rush of adrenaline in you, and you want to know what he has in store. So you get in the car, and as soon as you’re buckled in, Sunghoon backs out of the parking lot and starts driving, the destination completely unknown to you, but you trust him enough to not be bothered by that.

The two of you drive for around ten minutes in comfortable silence, sometimes catching the other’s eye in the rearview mirror and bursting into giggles. You don’t know why, but when you open your window and let your arm out, letting out a big whoop, he laughs like it’s the most amazing thing he’s ever seen.

In the week you spend together with Sunghoon, these are the moments you love the most. When he’s seemingly let go of his barriers and lets you see a side of him that you don’t think many people get access to, a side to which laughter comes easy. Although it gives you whiplash when he so suddenly goes back to his serious and stonelike nature, you’d rather get glimpses of his carefree self than forever be stuck with the face he usually puts on with you. You aren’t sure if he is always one or the other with other people, or if he keeps his tendency to almost switch personalities with everyone, but you’re just glad it doesn’t feel like he’d always prefer to be somewhere else than with you anymore - and that it almost feels like he enjoys, or at the very least tolerates spending time in your company now.

He parks in what seems to be the middle of nowhere, on a small patch of gravel between the road and a forest, right before a bridge that crosses over a current. He gets out and starts towards what looks like a forest, telling you good-humoredly to hurry up and follow him. The rain has calmed down to a drizzle, gentle as it falls on your shoulders and a refreshing break from the sweltering heat of the past few days. Faster than you expected, you’ve reached your destination, which is a point where the current is calm and a wide trunk tree crosses it. You have no idea how Sunghoon ever found this place, but you’ve never seen him wear such an ecstatic expression, so you don’t even question it.

He takes his shoes off and gets on the tree trunk, spreading his arms wide to keep himself from falling. You sit down, one leg on each side of the trunk, and watch amusedly as he titters and regains his balance, sending sheepish smiles your way when he gets close to plummeting into the water. 

“Where’d you learn to dance?” you ask suddenly, the question forming in your head and leaving your lips simultaneously.

He considers you for a second, then plops himself down on the trunk, letting his legs sway over the emptiness. He looks out to the current when he speaks, as if talking to the air around him rather than directly to you. “I lived and went to school in a low-income neighborhood, so there were always these people coming and going, trying to get kids like us to start working and get out of the neighborhood, or make it better or something. One day these people came in, saying they were giving out lessons to become a dance instructor, and it was the only one that ever caught my interest. I did it, aced the test, and they gave me a spot here that I managed to keep every summer. Haven’t wanted to do anything else since.” He looks back at you and you catch a glimpse of cautiousness, perhaps a fear of finding judgment in your eyes, but his expression turns friendly again when he finds only curiosity and sympathy there.

“What about the rest of the year? Do you also have a teaching job back home?” you ask, daring to go further in your interrogation of Sunghoon’s personal life. Just a few days ago, you’d never have dreamed of asking him something like this, but there’s something about him today that makes you think it’s okay to get closer, if you tread lightly.

He snickers humorlessly and looks down at his hands, palms resting on the trunk in front of him. “I’m lucky I get to escape that place just three months a year when I’m working here. Otherwise, I’m stuck with the old man and his carpenting business I’m fated to inherit when he retires.” Before you can say anything in response, he jumps back up on his feet and holds a hand out to you, making a motion for you to come to him. You’re slightly taken aback at the sudden switch in his demeanor, but you know better than to force anything with Sunghoon. “We didn’t come here to chit-chat, did we? Come over here.”

Devilish - there’s no other word to describe his expression at that moment.

“Nuh-uh, I’m not getting on there, I’m gonna fall and break an ankle,” you immediately protest, but he doesn’t need to say anything, just approaches you with a mischievous smile and reaches his hands out to you - and you take them, letting him bring you to your feet.

You climb up tentatively, glad to see the trunk isn’t slippery even after the rain, and hold on tight to Sunghoon’s hands until you’ve managed to find your own balance. “Okay, what now?” you say breathily, half-paralyzed in terror and half-pumped with adrenaline.

“Let’s dance,” he says, a playful smile teasing his lips.

“What, here?” you reply, looking at him like he suggested you rob a bank.

“Yes, here.” He grabs your hand tighter and brings you closer to him, securing an arm around your waist before you can stumble off of the trunk. It’s definitely your near-death experience and not his proximity that makes your heart beat faster, definitely.

He quietly hums the song, but you’ve heard it so many times at this point that you could do the dance with no music at all. More than dancing the same steps, there’s something electrifying about knowing that the same song is playing in your and Sunghoon’s heads right now. You wonder if he feels it playing in his heart too.

What you’re doing isn’t quite dancing - you’re just taking small, careful, clumsy steps together, giggling as you try to stay atop the trunk and letting out a yelp when he attempts to spin you but it only results in you two almost falling off. He holds you close as if making sure that if one of you goes down, the other goes down with them. Your face is right in front of his chest, and when you risk a look up at him, he’s already gazing down at you, his playfulness making the light in his eyes shine even brighter. 

Your breath hitches in your throat when his eyes drift down to your lips, moving as you talk, but you still manage to get the words out, whispering them in the small space between the two of you. “You’re supposed to teach me lifts, aren’t you?” 

“Yeah. Let’s go,” he whispers back, but makes no move to leave the trunk or distance himself from you.

“Okay,” you breathe. You repeat the word and take a step back, somehow gathering the will to tear yourself away from him, from his eyes fixated on your parted lips. “Let’s go.”

He leads you back through the woods to a wide clearing. After the downpour of the early afternoon, the sun is starting to shine again, rays of light making their way through the grayish clouds and high pines, and bathing your surroundings in a comforting glow. Sunghoon stands facing the sun, and the sunlight hits his face so perfectly, you have to keep yourself from snorting at how ridiculously handsome he is.

The only instructions he gives you are as follows: “You’ve seen lifts before. You know you just run to me to gather momentum, then when you’re close enough, bend your knees and keep your core and whole body tight as I lift you. But the most important thing is that you trust me, alright? If you don’t, we could both get hurt.”

The first few times, you just practice the running and the picking up, not wanting to venture into the actual overhead lift right away. It’s easy enough - just find the right distance, the right speed, and remember not to let your body go limp in Sunghoon’s hands.

But when you’ve gotten the hang of it, and Sunghoon tells you to try the complete lift, you freeze. You just stop right in front of him, looking at him with wide eyes. “This is too scary, I can’t do it.”

To your surprise, instead of letting out an annoyed sigh or rolling his eyes, Sunghoon smiles. His eyes go soft and the corners of his lips tug up.

“What’s scary?”

“Falling. Getting hurt, hurting you,” you say, looking into his eyes with the hope that he’ll make all your anxieties go away.

“Don’t think about those things. Don’t think about anything, just trust me. Let yourself be picked up first, and then we’ll worry about your form and how to keep it, okay?”

“O-okay.” You walk a few steps back to regain some distance, and he nods reassuringly as you take a deep breath in, and a deep breath out. You run to him, and as if his words had gone straight from his mouth to your limbs, you let him lift you - and the world looks so different from this high up.

You marvel at the feeling of floating in the air, but you quickly start to feel yourself slipping forward, and Sunghoon is yelling “Hold it, hold it!” and before you know it, you’ve dipped forward and fallen right on top of him. Thankfully, it was a slow fall, and he had time to soften the blow, so that the immediate reaction from the both of you is to burst into laughter.

You roll over so that you’re laying on your back next to him and rest your palms on your stomach, feeling it shake with laughter. Once you’ve calmed down, you turn your head towards him and he imitates you a second later. You probably look like idiots, out-of-breath and smiling widely at each other in this field, but there isn’t a thing you would change about this moment.

“Do you know what the best place to practice lifts is?” he asks, and you watch how his dimples disappear and reappear as he talks. You shake your head. His dimples deepen. “The water.”

You change locations again, heading back towards the current and finding the lake it stems from. You and Sunghoon turn your backs to each other as he takes his t-shirt off and you, your denim shorts, not wanting them to weigh you down in the water. When you turn back around, you have to force yourself to detach your eyes from his perfectly defined abs and shoulders thanks to years of dancing and physical exertion almost every day. You stare out at the lake like it’s the first time you’ve ever seen so much water, otherwise you’d be gawking at him like it’s the first time you’ve ever seen a man. Your cheeks burn up when you feel his eyes on your legs, taking your half-naked figure in, and he chuckles as you rush to hide yourself in the water.

Once in the water, you practice the actual lift, which consists of Sunghoon hoisting you high above his head and you keeping a straight posture, with your arms perpendicular to your body and your chest slightly lifted as if you were truly soaring through the air. It already looks difficult, and yet it’s even harder than it looks. It does help being in the water because at least you’re not scared for your life when you lose your balance and dive forward, but you let out a yelp nonetheless each time it happens. Sunghoon keeps on telling you to hold your posture, but each attempt ends in you falling into the water and bringing him down with you.

You drift apart and swim back towards each other every time, your arms wrapping around his neck and his hands coming to your hips to get back into position for the lift. You’re having a lot of fun, too much fun, probably, when the performance is just a day away - but getting to see Sunghoon’s smile and hear his laugh as you play around and try your best at the lift makes it worth it. When the strap of your tank top slips over your shoulder, you notice out of the corner of your eye Sunghoon’s hand reaching for it just as you put it back yourself. He plays it off by raking a hand through his wet hair, getting it out of his eyes, and smiles shyly at you when your gazes lock. You have no idea what’s going to happen after the performance, if you’ll stay friends or if he’ll pretend like this never even happened - all you know is that you’d be happy doing this all summer.

“One last time?”

-

And just like that, it’s late Saturday afternoon and the performance is just an hour away. You barely eat or speak during dinner, partly out of nervousness, but mostly because you want your lie of having a headache and needing to rest in your room more believable. Chaewon had said she’d help you put your dress on and get ready before the show, so when you’ve escaped the dinner table, you rush to her cabin.

But just as you exit the building, an old woman you recognize as Mrs Jung walks in. She must be surprised at your sudden appearance because she slightly bumps into the door and drops her bag. An unusual amount of wallets fall from it, but you don’t think too much of it - you’ve seen rich people do weirder things. 

You bend down to help her gather her things, and she chuckles lightly, thanking you. “Such a sweet girl, isn’t she, Harold?” she says to her husband who had appeared behind the door as well. You wish them a nice evening and part ways, gushing to yourself over how cute old couples are as you head to the Chaewon’s cabin.

She does your hair, pulling it into a tight bun and securing every stray strand with a bobby pin. You have no experience with makeup since it’s always been off-limits in your house, so she expertly applies eyeshadow, mascara and lipstick to your face. The sticky feel of it is unfamiliar but once you look in the mirror, you almost can’t look away. It’s still you, of course it is, but the bright colors make you look glamorous, like performing in front of a large crowd is just routine for you. You thank Chaewon, a huge smile on her face, and watch her own light up in relief that you like the makeup.

As she zips your dress up, a flowy baby pink dress she got out of her closet just for you, you repeat back all the instructions Sunghoon has given you over the week to make sure you remember everything. “I just gotta keep my head up, keep my core and my arms straight, follow the mu-”

“Thank you, Baby,” Chaewon quietly interrupts, and the slight tremble in her voice and the vulnerability with which she looks at you lets you know she really means it. You stop your declamation immediately and smile at her, kindness in your eyes.

She looks down and tries to find her words. “You know, I- I just want you to know that I, I don’t sleep around, and Heeseung, I really thought he loved me, and-”

You can see the tears already forming in her eyes so you bring her into a tight hug, resting your cheek against the side of her head. “I know, Chaewon, don’t worry. And even if you did sleep around, it wouldn’t matter, Heeseung should take responsibility no matter what. We’re all here to help you. Don’t worry.” You lean back to hold her face in your hands and try to give as reassuring a smile as you can.

“I’m scared, Baby,” she whispers, trying to calm her sobs to get the words out.

“Everything’s gonna be fine, Chaewon,” you say, and you hope she believes it as much as you do. “Everything’s gonna be just fine. You’ve got Sunghoon, and Jake, and you’ve got me too.” 

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath in. When she opens them again, she grabs your hands and shakes them between the two of you, mirroring your smile. “Okay, okay,” she murmurs. “Sorry, this isn’t the best time for me to break down. You feeling ready?” she asks, and even if it’s just for now, you’re glad she’s feeling better and got to let her emotions out.

“Not at all, I’m so nervous. I don’t want to mess something up and let you or Sunghoon down,” you admit, your smile wavering for a second.

“Whatever happens, you won’t let us down,” she says, squeezing your hands. “It’s amazing, what you’re doing.” 

You can’t help but look away at her words. “It’s the least I can do,” you mumble.

“No, Baby, you’re doing more than most people would. And Sunghoon, he might have his own way of showing it, but he’s extremely grateful for you,” she says, and it puts a smile on your face.

“By his own way of showing it, do you mean not showing it at all?” you joke.

“That’s Sunghoon for you.” You giggle quietly together, but her eyes drift to the clock on the wall behind you and she lets out a sigh. “It’s time, Baby. And don’t worry, I know you’ll do amazing,” she says, bringing you into a brief hug.

You’re so nervous, everything that follows is a blur - leaving Chaewon’s cabin and sneaking over to Sunghoon’s car, the drive to the Sheldrake Hotel, the staff there leading you backstage, and finding your spot on the stage. You only snap out of it when the curtains lift and a voice booms from the speakers in the room, announcing “Sunghoon Park and partner dancing the mambo” as the audience breaks into polite claps.

The music starts, and Sunghoon can immediately feel the tension in your body. He trails his fingers all the way down your arm to your waist, just like you’d practiced a ton of times before, and he uses the proximity between the two of you to whisper “Relax” into your ear. “Just follow my lead, you’ve got this,” he says, loud enough for only you to hear, and extends his arm to send you spinning. 

You manage the first few steps, trying to let go of your anxiety, but it’s got a tight grip on your body and makes your stomach twist. You think it’s all over when you mess up a turn, going right instead of left, but Sunghoon’s quick to whisper “over here” and you find your way again. “Look at me,” Sunghoon says once you’re facing each other again, and you lock eyes with him. And for some reason, that works - focusing only on him makes you feel like it’s just the two of you in the room, just like so many times this past week, and it dissipates all your nerves, makes your muscle memory kick in. You finally let him lead you and follow the music, thinking of nothing but Sunghoon and dancing together.

And yet, when it’s time for the lift, you freeze again. You find your position and run to Sunghoon, just like you know you’re supposed to, but you can’t let him lift you, your limbs turning into lead in his hold. Thinking quickly, you come up with another step on the spot, hoping it isn’t too obvious to the audience you just messed up. Sunghoon takes the lead again, and the rest of the performance goes smoothly, the other moves and the smaller, easier lift realized perfectly by the both of you.

You finish off the number, and the sound of the applause directed at the two of you fills you with a pride you’d never felt before, a feeling much more satisfying than any good grade or won argument ever had. Another sort of daze fills your mind now, and it makes you feel like there’s a small cloud under your feet so that you’re floating instead of walking everywhere. It almost makes you miss the Jungs, but when you see the old couple slowly walking out of the room, you’re scared you might be done for.

You rush back to the parking lot with Sunghoon, whooping in excitement as soon as you're out of anyone’s earshot. In the backseat, you change out of your dress and back into your regular clothes.

“God, that was- that was amazing, I can’t believe you get to live this every week during the summer, it was just- my God…” you say, struggling to get your right hand through the sleeve of your blouse.

“Yeah? Did you have fun?” Sunghoon answers, a smile on his face that turns into a gulp when he sees your half-naked body in the rearview mirror. He can’t help but risk a few more glances, hoping you don’t notice.

“I did, I really did, but I- I messed up that one turn, and I didn’t do the lift-”

“That doesn’t matter,” Sunghoon says firmly. “You did real good, Baby.” And after a beat, he adds: “Thank you. You did real good.” Your eyes lock in the mirror but you look away before he can catch sight of your reddening cheeks.

“And oh my God, there was that couple, the, the-”

“The Jungs, right? Yeah, I saw them too,” Sunghoon chuckles. “I got so scared.”

“Right? Me too! They won’t say anything, will they, do you think?”

“Probably not. I don’t think they even recognized either of us.”

You button your jeans and climb your way over to the passenger seat next to Sunghoon, grateful for the lack of headrests in his car. It suddenly grows quiet between the two of you. You want to ask whether you’ll keep meeting now that you’ve done your part, but you’re afraid Sunghoon might want to have nothing to do with you from now on even if it doesn’t seem like he dislikes you anymore. So you stay silent, watching out of the window, sometimes turning your head towards Sunghoon and catching his eye, then smiling at each other shyly.

Something in you is screaming at you to reach out to him, brush a hand over his hair, interlace your fingers with his - any kind of touch. You thought the ball of nerves in your stomach would disappear after the show, but it’s still there, and it’s taken hold of your entire body now, the anticipation of whatever is to come almost unbearable. You notice Sunghoon’s gaze ping-ponging between you and the road, and the tightness with which he holds the steering wheel, and you dare let yourself hope, just a little bit, that he shares those same wild thoughts jumping around your mind.

When you reach the parking lot next to the staff quarters, Sunghoon is quick to get out of the car, while you rub at your eyes and lips, trying to get as much makeup off as you can. Your parents would most likely be in bed by now, but just in case they were still up, you didn’t want them to catch you with bright red lips and blue eyelids. Sunghoon walks around to your side and opens your door for you, even grabbing your hand to help you out of the car. Once you’re out, he takes your other hand in his, facing you as he walks slowly backwards, and with the way he’s gazing down at you, you think those unspoken thoughts might finally come into the light. But before either of you can say anything, you hear quick footsteps rushing towards you, and a familiar voice calling out to Sunghoon.

He swings around to find a panting, alarmed-looking Jake. “Sunghoon, it’s- it’s Chaewon, something went wrong, she’s not feeling well-”

Neither of you need to hear more before you’re running to the cabin, reaching it in record time. There’s way more people than there should be in and outside Chaewon’s room, all watching and doing absolutely nothing except for another girl you recognise as part of the dancing crew holding a wet cloth to her head as Chaewon, her face covered in sweat and her eyes shut tight in pain, moans and mumbles incoherently, slightly delirious from fever. The girl at her bed steps aside when she sees Sunghoon approaching, and he kneels next to Chaewon, holding her hand in both of his and reassuring her as best she can.

“It’s that doctor,” Jake starts, “he was so shady, had a folding table and a dirty knife, and I- I heard screams coming from that room, Hoon, awful screams, and I tried getting in and getting Chaewon out but they wouldn’t let me-”

What’s obvious to you right now is that Chaewon is in desperate need of an actual doctor, and nobody here can provide that for her, so you rush out of the room, and, as fast as your legs can carry you, run to your father and wake him up in a hurry, grabbing his doctor’s bag. You’re glad for your father’s blind trust in you - other than an instinctive “Is Seeun alright?”, which you nod your head at, he doesn’t ask any questions, just sees you need his help. He listens to your unclear and frantic explanations of what’s going on as he follows you to the staff cabin. 

“Alright, out of the way, everyone, give the girl some space,” your father says as he enters Chaewon’s room, the way he carries himself and speaks instantly commanding obedience from the group. People filter out as he takes Sunghoon’s spot next to Chaewon, checking her pulse and temperature. “Who’s responsible for this lady?” he asks without looking away from his patient.

“I am,” Sunghoon says, taking a step towards him. “Is she gonna be okay?” He seems so distressed you want to take him into your arms and tell him it’ll be okay, but you can’t do that - not here, not in front of your dad.

Your father turns his head to take a look at Sunghoon, his expression unreadable, then turns back to Chaewon, leaving Sunghoon’s question unanswered, floating in the air ominously.

He makes you all leave the room, and you wait for what feels like hours until your father finally comes out, his briefcase in hand, and announces that Chaewon just needs some rest and then she’d be okay. He lets Jake thank him and shake his hand agitatedly, but once again just stares Sunghoon down and ignores him when he tries to do the same. He takes you by the shoulder, making you walk away with him without saying goodbye to anyone. He’s silent for a few moments, waiting to have gone down a few steps before he speaks, and when he does, his voice is tense and almost trembles with anger.

“Is this what my money paid for? I’m disappointed in you, Baby. You’re not who I thought you were.” He doesn’t even let you defend yourself, just keeps walking without looking at you. “I don’t want you to hang around those people anymore, do you understand?”

“But dad-”

“I don’t want to hear it,” he says firmly, and the slight increase of volume catches you off guard. Not once has your dad raised his voice at you, or at least not since you were a child - that’s how you understand how truly upset he is at you. He finally turns around to look at you, his eyebrows furrowed. “And get that stuff off of your face before your mother sees it.”

The rest of the walk back to your bungalow is done in unbearable, utter silence, and you can’t wait to be away from your father and the anger pouring off of him in waves. But that silence doesn’t seem to go away, even when you finally reach your bed, even when your sister starts snoring quietly, completely oblivious to the events of the night. The silence grows so loud in your ears that it creates a fuzz all around your brain, making your head throb and blurring your thoughts, rendering them incomprehensible. The sheer weight of it forces your eyelids closed even though you don’t feel tired at all - there’s too much going on in your mind for you to fall asleep.

There’s the relief of your father having helped Chaewon, and the knowledge that she’ll be okay thanks to him; but there’s also the image of his disappointed expression etched into your brain and the words “You’re not who I thought you were” playing on a hellish loop. There’s the worry he won’t ever see you the way he used to, that you won’t be his little girl anymore, but there’s also the satisfaction of that exact thing, the liberation that comes with your father finally realizing you’re not perfect and make mistakes too.

And then there’s Sunghoon.

There’s Sunghoon, and his concern for Chaewon’s safety, his love for his friend that he’s known for years, the hurt on his face when your dad didn’t shake his hand, and the way he quickly retracted his own thereafter, a defeated expression like he was used to such disrespect. But before that, there’s his dimpled smile and sharp canines you find weirdly endearing, the carefree sound of his laughter after you fall on top of him in the water, his warm hands guiding you from step to step, the quick glimpses he throws your way when he thinks you’re not looking but hopes that you are. Even before that, there were the ice-covered walls he put around himself and his friends that could melt as quickly as they could freeze back up, until finally one day he opened the door for you to come in. There was the elegance in his moves and the feeling like all the air in the room had evaporated when you watched him dance, only for it to fill you back up when he took you by the hand and showed you how to let yourself go for the first time.

The fog in your mind clears at the thought of him, like sunlight forcing its way through gray clouds after a thunderstorm. You need to see him.

You need to check on him, to make sure he’s feeling alright, and laugh with him if he is or cry if he isn’t. You need to hold his head between your palms and graze a hand through his hair and do and say all the things you’ve been wanting to this week.

You climb out of your bed and grab the first cardigan you see, then slip your shoes on and make your way to the front door. You try to be as quiet as possible, but once outside, you hang back just for a few moments in case anyone has heard you leaving, so that if they come to check, you can just say you’re getting some fresh air on the front porch. No one seems to stir so you rush to Sunghoon’s cabin. It’s past midnight and the only light guiding you is that of the stars and the bright moon up above.

When Sunghoon opens his door, he seems at once relieved and surprised to find you there. “Baby,” he simply says, gazing down at you. He looks so tired, you think. The performance at the Sheldrake was just a few hours ago, but it already feels so far away.

“Hey. Can I- can I come in?” you ask, slightly out-of-breath from your walking so fast.

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he says, turning his body to let you in his cabin. Since your first time here, that night you’d found Chaewon crying in the kitchen, you’d learned more about this place. Thanks to his seniority here, Sunghoon has a separate studio-like cabin further down the path where all the staff bungalows are, and it’s bigger than most of them, even though it’s still just one room that accommodates his bed, a closet, a desk, a sink and some other chairs, shelves and drawers.

A soft song is playing in the background and the main light is off, the small lamps here and there providing enough light for you to see. You hadn’t at all thought to look around when you were here last, so you’re curious to really see what Sunghoon’s living space is like.

You walk further into the room, taking in your surroundings and reveling in all the traces of Sunghoon’s life - discarded clothes here and there, a stack of record players from the early fifties to now, posters of movie stars and famous singers, some photos of him with Jake, Chaewon and other members of the entertainment team. He looks around like he’s seeing the room for the first time too, maybe trying to see it through your eyes and imagining what you could be thinking of it. He picks up clothes from the floor and from an armchair only to throw them in his closet, gesturing for you to sit down, and rubs the back of his neck in what seems like an embarrassed gesture.

“It’s not much… you’re probably used to a lot better…” he says with an apologetic tone.

“No, no, it’s great,” you say quickly, not wanting him to feel embarrassed. You look at him with a smile. “I love it here.”

He mirrors your smile, letting out a shaky breath of relief, then sits down at the edge of his bed, too far away for   your liking. The tense atmosphere from earlier in the car is back, filling the room with the silence of a thousand unspoken words. A beat passes before you speak up. “I’m sorry about the way my father treated you, Sunghoon. It wasn’t nice.”

Sunghoon looks genuinely shocked upon hearing your words and starts to shake his head fervently. “No, no, your father was great, the- the way he took care of Chaewon, I could never do anything like that in my life, he was amazing.”

“Yes, but I’m talking about you, Sunghoon, not Chaewon. He completely ignored you, he should have treated you with more respect.” His eyes find yours, and the look on his face like he wants to believe you but can’t quite bring himself to makes your heart ache.

He chuckles and lets his head hang low, looking down at his hands. “Why should he? I’m- I’m nothing,” he says quietly, so quietly that you think you might have misheard, because never in a hundred years would you have thought that someone like Sunghoon could think so lowly of himself.

Your surprise makes it hard to gather your words and say something coherent, but you try your best. “What- Sunghoon, how could you say that? You’re not nothing, you’re- you’re everything,” you say, the last word coming out breathy.

He looks at you like he’s never heard those words before, never had somebody tell him he was so much more than he thought he was - but maybe that’s because he’d never told anyone how he really felt. A pained expression flashes across his face, and you’re scared you might’ve said the wrong thing but his next words reassure you that that’s not it.

“You don’t understand… One month, I’m living off of scraps and struggling to make ends meet, and the next, rich ladies are stuffing hundred dollar bills in my pockets and giving me the key to their room. Everywhere I am, people just use me to get what they need. My dad basically forces me to work with him and doesn’t give a crap what I really want, the women here use me to escape the boredom of their lives, and Max and his asshole grandson Jay just want me to make as much money as I can so they can get even richer.” His voice gets louder the more he talks, the anger getting to him. He chuckles darkly, but his expression softens when he catches your gaze. “I have to live like this. If I start thinking I deserve more, that I- that I’m everything, like you say, I’ll never be satisfied. I’ll always want more. I can’t handle that.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way. It shouldn’t be that way,” you say quietly, shaking your head and looking at him sadly. You don’t know how to make him see that for the joy he brings everyone who gets to see him dance, for the care and safety he gives the people he loves, and the way he’s made you feel like you can finally escape the thoughts in your head, he deserves everything he wants in the world. You don’t know how to make him see his worth and the respect he deserves as much as anyone else.

He smiles at you wistfully, like he can see his own, long-gone, naive hopefulness on your face. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Baby. You look at the world and you think you can make it better.”

It’s your turn to chuckle humorlessly. “Yeah, I run to my daddy, like you said.”

“No,” he says firmly, his tone catching you off guard. “No, that took a lot of guts, doing what you did. I love that about you, you just go ahead and do things. You didn’t even know Chaewon, and yet you learned a whole professional routine in a week just because you wanted to and you could. And now you risked your relationship with your father just to help her out once again. You- you’re not scared of anything!”

“Me? I’m scared of everything!” you cry out, suddenly standing up, the emotions boiling in your stomach making you unable to sit any longer. “I’m scared of the disappointment in my parents’ eyes, of failing school, of being stuck in a life I can’t escape from…” Your gaze travels around the room before it settles on Sunghoon once again, your gazes locking each other in so tightly you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to look away. “But most of all,” you continue, voice shaky and desperate, “I’m scared of leaving this place and never, ever feeling again the way I do when I’m with you.”

His jaw tightens and he has to force himself to look away from you, his eyes focusing on a random object in the corner of the room. With the way he huffs air through his nose and tenses his whole body, he almost looks angry, but you know that’s not it - finally, after a week of torturous hesitation and not-knowing, you understand how Sunghoon feels about you. He feels just like you. All those lingering gazes, those small shocks of electricity whenever you touched, those loud heartbeats at his constant proximity, he felt them too, and it drove him crazy too; you’re sure of it.

Or at least, almost sure of it. And there’s only one way to confirm your suspicions.

Sunghoon thinks you’re not scared of anything, so you’re going to prove it to yourself. You take a step towards him, then another one, and another one, until you’re standing right in front of him. You extend a hand out to him and he doesn’t question it, just takes it and rises, now towering over you as you had over him just a second ago. You’re as close as you usually are when you dance together - or perhaps a bit closer than that.

“Dance with me,” you whisper into the space between your bodies.

“What, here?” he whispers back, finally looking at you. His gaze lingers in your eyes before dropping to your lips, his pupils slowly dilating - there’s your confirmation. 

“Yes, here,” you reply, echoing your conversation on the tree trunk, which somehow was only yesterday.

You wrap your arms around his neck just as his hands come up to hold you by the waist. It’s a position you’ve found yourselves in a hundred times by now, but tonight, it feels so different. The air around you is charged with electricity and all of your moves are purposeful, trying to make the other feel all that you’re feeling with just a touch.

Tight in each other’s arms, you sway to the slow rhythm of the music, your head resting in the crook of his neck while his hands travel from your waist, to your shoulder blades, back down to your hips. Even with two layers of clothing between your bodies, the feeling of having him so close sends shivers down your spine, even though your skin burns everywhere it comes into contact with him. Your breath makes goosebumps appear on the side of his neck, and when his grip on your hips tightens, you take it as a green light to start pressing faint kisses to his skin. He bunches the fabric of your blouse in his hands, slowly pulling it from the confines of your jeans and over your head, making you raise your arms. He makes a ball out of your top and throws it somewhere across his room, his attention fully taken by the sight of your now half-naked body. He immediately discards his own t-shirt, putting his hands back on you as quickly as he can, as if scared you might suddenly disappear.

You go on dancing together, bodies moving in harmony, as if you’re one being rather than two. You let your hands travel over his shoulders and chest and rest them on his stomach as you lean your upper body backwards, trusting him to hold you while you circle your way back to him. When you do, his hands roam down to grab your ass and hike one of your legs around his hips, the friction of your pelvises rubbing together eliciting a heavy, relieved sigh from both of you.

Finally, your lips find each other, and you kiss like you’re each other’s sources of oxygen. Of course, Sunghoon is one of, if not the best, kissers you’ve ever had the honor of sharing a kiss with, because how could he be anything other than perfect? The way he kisses is intense and a little bit messy, and it ignites your whole body, making you crave only more and more until you’ve had everything you want. Your hands and his are restless, endlessly drifting over each other’s bodies, grabbing at shoulders or hips or strands of hair.

He walks backwards to his bed, never once breaking the passionate embrace, until the back of his legs hit the mattress. He sits, spreading his legs wide enough for you to stand between them. His face is right at the level of your chest, and the way he looks up at you as he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses there makes your insides burst and the fire in your core burn harder. Keeping eye contact with him is too much to handle, so you close your eyes and let your head back slightly, grazing your hands through the soft locks of his hair and simply enjoying the feeling of his mouth on you. His warm hands roam your lower back before traveling north to the clasp of your bra. He undoes it but doesn’t take it off - instead, he calls your name, and it’s never sounded better than on his lips.

“Baby?”

“Hm?” You look back down at him and find in his eyes a sort of lustful, dreamlike daze that you’re sure must reflect your own perfectly.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks breathily, wanting to be certain this is okay for you, but sounding like it’d be the death of him if you said no.

You smile softly and take his head in your hands. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

He smiles too, exposing his sharp canines and pretty dimples, and sighs of relief. “Thank God.”

Your bra comes off, and you almost laugh when his pupils blow out at the sight of your naked chest, but your amusement dies, cut off by a loud moan as soon as he takes one of your nipples in his mouth, twirling his tongue around and sucking on the sensitive bud before moving on to the other one. One of his hands rests on your ass while his other arm is wrapped around your waist, and his grip on your waist tightens every time you make a sound that he particularly appreciates. You’re pulling at his hair so much, you’re almost scared of hurting him, but truth be told you’re too focused on the way his mouth feels on you to really be careful about it.

“Come here,” he says, voice hoarse. His jeans aren’t doing a very good job of hiding how hard he is, and he groans at the sudden contact when he pulls you down into his lap. You press kisses everywhere you can - his cheeks, the crook of his neck, his hair, before finding his lips once again. You don’t even realize you’re grinding yourself against him until he breaks away from the kiss to let out a quiet moan, and you bury your face in the dip between his shoulder and his neck, breath hot against his skin as you whine in pleasure.

You could do this for hours, and maybe you do - but at some point, you start needing something more and your core throbs, desperate for more attention. And what better way to communicate that to Sunghoon than to show him exactly what you want?

You unwrap your arms from around his shoulders and let your hand roam down to the waistband of his jeans, smiling shyly at him as you get down on your knees in front of him. He watches with a pained expression, like the anticipation of what you’ll do next actually hurts him, as you unbutton and unzip his jeans, then slide them along with his boxers down his legs. To distract from the fact that his size slightly intimidates you, you take him in your hand right away, circling his reddened tip with your thumb before starting to bring your palm up and down his shaft while your other hand rubs his thigh.

You’re absolutely breathtaken by the sight in front of you: Sunghoon’s abs tensing visibly at your ministrations, his head hung back and his neck and Adam’s apple flushed red on display for you, moans increasing in volume as you continue. You had a feeling Sunghoon wouldn’t be a quiet one, and you’re proud to be proven right.

You put your own needs aside for now, just wanting to see Sunghoon in as much pleasure as you can give him. You bring your head forward and lick a stripe up his length, satisfied when he lets out his loudest moan so far. You don’t tease for too long, only licking at his tip for a bit before taking more of him in your mouth. You keep one hand at the base of his shaft and swirl your tongue around the part you’re able to reach. 

This is the first time you’ve gotten so much pleasure from giving - maybe because Sunghoon’s reactions feed your ego, maybe because you’re so obsessed with him that knowing you’re making him feel good is enough, or maybe both. Definitely both.

But Sunghoon doesn’t let you have your fun for too long, and soon pulls your face gently away from him. His flushed face and fucked-out expression is gratifying to say the least. You look up at him with a smile, rubbing his thighs with your palms as you wait for him to catch his breath.

“A minute longer,” he says, panting, “and I would’ve died.” You giggle at his dramatics and hoist yourself back up, about to position yourself again on his lap but Sunghoon has other plans. He lays you down on your back and comes to rest on his side next to you, holding himself up on a forearm; that way he has both full access to and full view of your face and body. Perfect.

His face is close enough to yours to press kisses there and on your neck while his hand makes his way down your body. When it reaches the waistband of your jeans, you don’t wait for him to say or do anything and undo them yourself, which makes Sunghoon smirk.

“Impatient, are you?” he teases.

“You’re one to talk,” you bite back with a smile, even though your cheeks start to burn.

He slips a hand under your jeans, and gathers slick from between your folds before starting to rub small circles on your clit with the pads of two fingers. He soon gets frustrated from the way your clothes restrict his movements, and whispers in your ear, “Might as well take everything off while we’re at it, don’t you think?”

You roll your eyes at his playful tone but comply, more than happy to undress if it means he can touch with more ease. And indeed, he wastes no time before slipping a finger inside you, smirk widening at the loud half-gasp half-moan you let out at the feeling. “Much better,” he whispers again, but any comeback is wiped from your mind as he adds a second finger in, curling them so that they hit just the spot. You’re drenched at this point, your arousal sticking to the inside of your thighs, but that only makes it easier for him to slip his fingers in and out and means you’re more than ready for him. He keeps his thumb on your clit so that the friction there doesn’t stop either, and it isn’t long before you start to feel that familiar knot twisting your insides, appearing much quicker than you’d like it to.

“Sunghoon- I’m gonna, I’m-”

“You are, huh?” he breathes against your neck in between kisses. And just like that, as if you’d told him to stop and not that you were about to finish, he slips his fingers out of you, watching your reaction with a devilish, amused smirk.

“What? No, no-” you whine, but it’s no use. He rolls away from you, opening the drawer in his bedside table to retrieve something, and he’s lucky it’s a condom, because you might have killed him if it was anything else.

“Just because it’s our first time, I’m making you cum on my cock,” he explains as he rips open the small packet and puts the condom on. He comes back and places himself over you, pressing a kiss to your cheek and aligning himself with your entrance. “Next time, you’ll cum on my fingers and mouth as much as you want, Baby.”

And then, he pushes in.

You don’t need to tell him to go slow, or to wait before he starts moving; he knows. He holds himself up on his hands, biceps tight, and watches your face carefully for any sign of pain or discomfort while he furrows his way in, inch by inch.

When he finally bottoms out, he presses a soft kiss to your glistening hairline and bends down to whisper in your ear, “I’ve been thinking about this all week, and it’s even better than I imagined.”

The corners of your lips tug upwards, but the feeling of Sunghoon filling you up like this makes your brain go fuzzy and you can’t even begin to form coherent words or thoughts. You grab on to his biceps and shoulders as he starts to move back and forth, slowly at first, but progressively picking up speed, your moans egging him on.

He takes one of your legs and hikes it up around his hip, allowing him to go deeper and hit that spot that has you arching your back and crying out. You’re clawing at his back, eyes shut tight and mouth going dry, and his fast, regular rhythm is bringing you to the edge once again. Either Sunghoon has terrible timing, or he knows precisely how close you are and wants to tease you, because he slows down and pulls out. “I just want to make it last a bit longer,” he explains, murmuring the words in the crook of your jaw and neck before pressing a kiss there.

He pushes himself away from you and sits up on his bed, his back against the headboard. He looks at you with a lopsided smile, and when you position yourself on his lap, you take a couple moments to admire him before taking him again. His hairline beads with sweat, his face and upper body are flushed a light red color, his breathing is quick and shallow, mouth slightly agape, and his eyelids are heavy with lust, eyes almost closed. He’s never looked so good. 

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” he asks, and you smile both at the compliment and at the fact that you were thinking the same thing about him just a second ago, as if you shared each other’s exact thoughts. You shake your head, and his gaze turns loving as he brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Baby. There. Said it.”

You kiss him passionately before taking him in your hand and raising yourself on your knees to guide his tip towards your entrance, keeping eye contact with him as you sink onto his length. The new position hits even more sensitive spots and makes the two of you moan simultaneously. 

Deciding to let him rest for a bit, you start moving yourself up and down on his cock, quickly settling into a nice rhythm that doesn’t tire your legs out too much but still manages to make you see stars. You hold onto Sunghoon’s shoulders, hands sometimes grabbing onto his hair while his stay firmly planted on your ass, kneading the soft skin there. You try to hold his gaze for as long as you can, but the pleasure starts to overwhelm you and you can’t do anything but shut your eyes, head falling back as loud moans escape your lips. There’s no way you could have kept it quiet, so you’re extremely grateful that Sunghoon’s living quarters are far enough away to avoid an audience.

Despite the immense pleasure of being on top of him and of choosing your own rhythm, your thighs start to hurt after a few minutes of this. Thankfully, Sunghoon notices your decreasing pace and the way your legs falter, and takes things into his own hands, finally ready to stop edging and bring the both of you to your ends. One hand on your lower back, one arm wrapped around your shoulders, he presses your chest firmly to his, hugging you tight, and starts bucking his hips into you at a pace that has you crying out into his shoulder. Your hands find purchase in his hair, pulling tight enough to hurt at the roots. If Sunghoon stops, it might be the death of you, so even if it’s a struggle to get the words out, you want to let him know how you feel.

“Fuck, Sunghoon, right there, please don’t stop, please- oh, my God!”

The sound of your two bodies coming together is lewd, but it only adds to your bliss, and in just thirty seconds of this, the knot in your stomach breaks loose and sends your whole body trembling against Sunghoon’s. He’s not long after you, the sound of his name over and over on your tongue as you cum sending him tumbling over the edge. You feel hot tears streaming down your face at the relief of finally having come undone, and the sounds leaving your lips now are fainter, your body too weak to even make any noise. 

You stay like this for a few moments, body limp on top of his, allowing your breaths to return to normal. You’ve had two boyfriends before, and they were the only two you’d ever had sex with, so it’s not like you had already discovered everything about the joys of sex, but you knew for sure that it didn’t always feel like this, didn’t always take you to heaven and back. Usually, you’d have stood up and cleaned yourself by now, but with Sunghoon, you never want to leave this spot. Fall asleep like this, wake up like this, stay as long as you wanted like this. But after a few minutes, Sunghoon stirs and you jolt out of your daze, getting off of him, wincing slightly at the sensitivity between your legs. 

He slips from his seated position and lays on his back. You follow suit, turning your body towards the ceiling, suddenly feeling shy at the idea of touching him, of getting closer - or maybe scared that he’ll suddenly want to be left alone, or worse, never want to see you again. But all your negative thoughts dissipate when he shifts to his stomach, sliding slightly down the bed to rest his head on your chest, burying his face there, hugging your waist tight, and letting out a contented sigh. Although your heart swells at his ridiculously cute actions, to say you aren’t a bit surprised would be a lie - after seeing a leading, more dominant side to him all week, since he was the one teaching you the dance and guiding you through the moves, you had thought it would translate to the way he was in bed. Yet, he had let you do what you wanted, let you set your own pace, as much as he had himself. And now, he was perfectly happy seeking out your affection and not making you come to him. It made you appreciate him that much more.

One of your hands makes its way to his back, grazing your fingernails along the expanse of it, while the other plays gently with his hair. You fall asleep in record time, perfectly at peace and exhausted from so much exertion.

-

When you wake up a few hours later, you’re still laying on your back, and although Sunghoon has drifted away, probably due to the heat in the room, your legs are still intertwined and he’s got an arm resting on your midriff. There’s nothing to let you know the time, so you look out the window and notice with panic that the sun has started to rise, which means it must be close to six a.m. You try to shake Sunghoon awake, but he just grumbles something incoherent and hugs you tighter to him, which you absolutely would have swooned over if you didn’t need to get back to your bungalow - and so you shake him harder.

“Sunghoon, wake up!” you say, far too quietly for it to actually wake him up, but he looks so cute asleep that it’d break your heart to wake him up too harshly.

“Why…” he whines, face buried in your neck and voice coming out muffled.

“I don’t want my father to notice that I’m gone,” you say, the aftertaste of the words bitter in your mouth.

“Why, what time is it?” he asks, slowly coming to his senses.

“I’m not sure, but he never wakes up late, so I don’t wanna risk it.” Your father, needing a real break from intense work days, had started waking up at 6:45 instead of 5:30 every morning. How relaxing.

“But I want you to stay,” Sunghoon grumbles, and you bless him for speaking your own thoughts but also curse him for making it harder to leave.

“I know, so do I. But I’ll see you later, okay?”

A beat. “Fine,” he sighs, then pushes himself off of you. He doesn’t look at you while you put your clothes back on and walk out of the room, but you know he can’t have fallen asleep again so quickly, so you’re terrified of having said or done something extremely wrong, but you can’t take it back now, so you just close the door behind you and rush back to your own bed.

The breakfast table is completely silent, the tension between you and your father clear to your mother, who doesn’t say anything, scared of accidentally adding fuel to the fire, and even to your sister, who eats her grapefruit quietly, darting her eyes back and forth between the three of you. Jay shows up from only God knows where and, not even trying to read the room, asks cheerfully what you’re all planning on performing at the show.

“We won’t be at the show,” your father says, making everyone’s heads snap towards him. “We’re leaving tomorrow morning, miss the weekend traffic.”

“We haven’t discussed this, honey,” your mother says just as Seeun whines, “But Daddy, we’ll miss the show!” You keep quiet, pretending the overcooked scrambled eggs on your plate are the most interesting thing you’ve ever seen. 

“It’s the biggest night of the season!” Jay chimes in, also trying to persuade him.

“Yeah, and I wanted to sing something!” your sister adds.

Your father looks back and forth between your mother’s and sister’s bewildered faces, then sighs and begrudgingly bows to their wishes. “Alright, alright, it was just an idea.”

A smile breaks on your mother’s face and Seeun clasps her hands together with a small noise of joy. “Perfect,” Jay exclaims, pointing a finger at you as he walks away. “Baby, I’ll need you for props.”

“So, Seeun, what songs do you have in mind?” your father asks and gets up, gesturing at your sister to follow him, although he looks completely uninterested. She practically jumps up from her seat and starts listing all her song ideas, leaving her half-finished breakfast behind.

You finish eating your own, making small talk with your mother for long enough so that she isn’t suspicious of your trying to escape, although you can tell she knows something is up and just won’t mention it. You thank her silently for it, and excuse yourself from the table to go check up on Chaewon.

When you get to her room, she’s still in bed, but isn’t sleeping and doesn’t look in pain anymore - she’s sitting up, flicking through a fashion magazine. She smiles brightly when she sees you at her door, discarding the magazine and extending her hands out to you.

“How are you feeling?” you ask as you take her hands in yours, crouching next to her bed.

“Much, much better,” she says, sounding relieved at her own answer. “You just missed your father. He’s an amazing man.”

You only have time to talk for a minute when the door opens once again to reveal Sunghoon. Seeing him creates a pit in your stomach, either from the memory of what you did last night or from the way you had to escape soon thereafter. You stand up straight, taking a few steps away from Chaewon. He looks at you briefly before turning his attention to her, and asks the same question you did moments prior.

“I’m feeling a lot better. Baby’s father says I’m still able to have children.”

“That’s great, Chaewon, that’s amazing,” Sunghoon says, sounding relieved.

“But what about you guys? How did the show go last night?” she asks, a hopeful expression on her face.

Sunghoon glances at you, and you avoid his gaze as best you can. “It went well,” he simply says, not explaining any further. 

“Yeah, I didn’t do the lifts, but other than that it went well.”

Chaewon looks at him, then at you, and all at once notices the awkward tension in the air - and she understands the situation as clearly as if it had been written out in black and white for her.

It’s silent for a few seconds until you speak. “Well, I guess I better go then… I’ll see you around.” You give Chaewon a small smile and head to the door, letting your eyes linger on Sunghoon before slipping out. But of course, you can’t actually bring yourself to leave, and sit on the stairs a few meters away from the door. From where you are, you can hear every word spoken inside the cabin.

“Sunghoon,” Chaewon starts.

“So, you’re feeling better, huh?”

“Sunghoon.”

“But you should still get some rest, right?”

“Sunghoon, stop it.” That shuts him up. “What are you doing? You’ve told me so many times not to get mixed up with them,” she says, sounding at once worried and reproachful.

“I know what I’m doing, alright?”

“Sunghoon, listen to me you gotta stop it, you know it’s not gonna end well-”

“I said I know what I’m doing,” he snaps, but seems to immediately regret it. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Chaewon, I just- you’re in no position to be worrying about me right now. I know what I’m doing. I trust her.” There’s a small silence, and you have no idea what expression Chaewon must be wearing right now. Is she unsure, satisfied, worried, angry? Is she nodding, trying to respect his decision, or looking like Sunghoon’s making the biggest mistake of his life? “I’ve gotta go, but I’ll see you later, alright? Rest up.”

“Alright, see you later, Hoon,” she says quietly, and when Sunghoon opens the door, he finds you waiting for him. You stand up and just look at him, unsure how to express what’s on your mind. You’d completely forgotten everything you had meant to tell him.

“Oh, hey, Baby,” he says upon seeing you.

“Hey.”

You both just stand there, staring at each other, no idea how to start the much-needed conversation.

“Look, I’ve got a uh, a lesson I need to go to right now, so…” he trails off.

“Right, right, no problem,” you say, nodding far too vigorously.

“But I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, you will.”

Neither of you move for a few moments, and you feel like you’re completely stuck in place, unable to move until you’ve had the reassurance that things can stay as they were between you and Sunghoon. But he walks past you, already a few meters away when you gather the courage to call out his name, and he turns around so quickly, you dare to hope he might have been waiting for you to do so. You don’t say anything, you just smile, and hope he understands. He smiles back, an actual smile where his dimples appear and the corners of his eyes crinkle, and you know that for now at least, everything is okay.

-

“God, I am so sick of this rain,” your sister complains as she dabs powder on her face, covering up non-existent blemishes. All four of you are in the living room of your bungalow, resting after lunch and getting ready for the rest of the day. You and your father play a boring game of checkers, trying to make the tension disappear slowly, while your mother reads some detective novel.

“Where is my beige iridescent lipstick?” Seeun asks furiously, punctuating each of her words, as if that was the kind of everyday thing that lies about in everyone’s house.

Your father wins the game and looks relieved that it’s over more than anything. You pick up a light raincoat and head towards the door, but your mother calls out your name, stopping you in your tracks.

“Where are you going in this weather?” she asks with curiosity rather than wariness in her voice.

“They’re playing charades in the main lobby,” you reply casually, used to giving out random excuses by now.

“Quite the little joiner, are we?” your sister teases, and you’re not sure if she’s just making fun of you or if she knows you’re up to something but you ignore her anyway and walk out of the cabin.

You make your way to Sunghoon’s place as quickly as you can to avoid the rain. You had ran into him that morning and, when your parents weren’t looking, he let you know that he was free all afternoon with a smile that was as good as a spoken invitation.

He brings you into a hug as soon as you’ve closed the door behind you and presses a kiss to the top of your head, murmuring an apology into your hair. “I’m sorry I acted so awkwardly yesterday. You left so suddenly that night, and I was scared you regretted it…”

You lean back and gaze into his eyes. “I regret absolutely nothing, Sunghoon.”

He breathes out a relieved sigh, smiling as he nods. “Good. Me either.”

You press your lips to his, and although the kiss starts out slow and soft, it doesn’t take long for things to heat up. You let out a small yelp when Sunghoon lifts you up and carries you to the bed, laying you down gently on the mattress. He holds up to the promise he’d made the other night - namely, making you cum on his tongue and fingers as much as you want, or rather, as you soon find out, as much as he wants.

He starts by undressing you slowly, taking his time to revel in the sight of your naked body and the idea that it’s all for him. He only leaves your panties on, rubbing small circles over your clothed clit as he works his mouth on your nipples and breasts, paying each side its due attention. He then makes his way down, leaving warm kisses everywhere he can from your stomach to your inner thighs, and makes sure to work you up and have you squirming before actually slipping your panties off and giving you what you want. Once he’s wrapped his lips around your clit, it’s like he can’t get enough. With two fingers inside you, he sucks and licks at the sensitive bud for what feels like so long that you don’t know how his wrist and jaw don’t get tired. You don’t even try to count the number of times he makes you cum, simply taking every orgasm in stride, and even though you get so sensitive after a while, you’ve entered some sort of blissful, exhausted daze that you can’t bring yourself to break away from.

Afterwards, you’re lying next to Sunghoon, your head resting on his chest and grazing your fingernails up and down his arm while he plays with your hair. You’ve somehow managed not to fall asleep despite the tiredness filling your entire body, and you and Sunghoon talk quietly, the sound of the rain outside like a peaceful background song. You listen to him describe his dream of opening a dance school someday and choreographing professionally, then he listens as you talk about all the places you want to visit and the things you want to learn about the world. You share childhood memories and awkward first kiss anecdotes and compare your relationships with your parents and the similar sort of pressure they put on your shoulders, albeit for two very reasons.

“My dad especially, he just doesn’t understand that dancing can be an actual profession. He sees it as some kind of hobby I’ve had since I was a teenager and that it’ll pass soon when I realize I can’t make a living out of it. He completely ignores the fact I get paid more in three months here than in half-a-year with him, but he doesn’t mind taking the part of my salary I give our family when I come back, that’s for sure,” he chuckles humorlessly. “I’m scared he’ll think I’m betraying him if I don’t take up his carpentry business.”

“I was top of my class in elementary school, and my parents thought that meant I was the brightest little girl in the world and would grow up to achieve great things,” you explain in a joke-admirative voice. “And even if they tried not to say anything, I could see the disappointment on their faces when I brought home a B or was ranked third at a test. I’m happy I got into Yale, and that they can afford to pay for my studies, but it’s just gonna be even more pressure for four more years.” After a beat, you decide to add, “I can only forget about all of this when I’m with you. You just make all of my worries disappear for a while.”

The conversation takes a slightly sentimental tone as you tell each other what your first impression of the other was. You admit sheepishly to Sunghoon that you were attracted to him as soon as you saw him dancing with Chaewon that first night, and that you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him after he danced with you, even though you found him a bit of an asshole the first couple of days he taught you the dance. You tell him you were sure he hated you at first, and he reveals that he didn’t at all.

“But I can see why you thought that. I just… I had never met anyone like you, Baby. Someone who thought she could just show up somewhere and decide to help a stranger out for no other reason than to help them out of the kindness of their heart. I didn’t know if you were the most foolish or the bravest person ever. And yeah, I’ll admit, I wasn’t the nicest to you at first. I kinda have this thing against… against rich people, I guess,” he says, chuckling softly. “For me, a wealthy person is like Max, or Jay, or all those ladies here. They use their wealth to get you to do what you want. But you’re not like that, and it took me a while to understand that. I’m sorry,” he finishes, pressing another kiss to your hair.

“No, no, it’s okay… I’m sorry they’ve all treated you like that. You deserve better.” He thanks you quietly and a comfortable silence settles between the two of you for a few minutes and you’re close to falling asleep when Sunghoon calls out your name.

“Hm?”

“What’s your real name?”

You raise your head to look at him and flash him a big smile. It’s been ages since someone asked you that, most people not bothering to question your nickname.

“It’s Y/N.”

“Y/N…” he echoes, gazing at you lovingly. “It fits you perfectly.”

You press a gentle kiss to his lips in response, and you think it’s gonna end at that, but Sunghoon pulls you back in right as you’re about to lean out, and you know you’re done for. You’re still extremely sensitive but that only adds to the pleasure of him filling you up, intertwining your fingers with him as you make love, his thrusts slow but deep and your bodies pressed flush against each other. Your heart is bursting with something that you can only recognize as love.

-

That night, as you’re on the verge of falling asleep, your sister says something that jolts you awake.

“I’ve decided to go all the way with Heeseung,” she says, a hint of a smile in her voice. 

You snap your head towards her. “What? Seeun, no, you shouldn’t-”

“I’ve already thought about everything. I want it to happen on the night of rehearsals, I know what I’ll wear-”

“No, Seeun, listen, you can’t do it with Heeseung, I’ve already told you he’s bad news!” you whisper-scream, trying to get some sense into her head without your parents overhearing.

“Who else with, then?” she whisper-shouts back.

“Just- I don’t know, but not with him, it needs to be with someone you actually love, someone you can trust-”

“I can trust Heeseung. I do trust him - more than I trust you, actually,” she says, the conversation taking another turn.

“Seeun-”

“No, Baby. You don’t actually care about this, or even about me. All you care about is that you’re not Daddy’s little girl anymore. He listens when I talk now.” She turns her back to you with a huff.

“Seeun-” you try again, but she’s already done talking.

“Goodnight.”

You want to find a way to stop your sister from wasting an important experience like having sex for the first time on a guy like Heeseung, but you also know that once she’s set her mind to something, it’s hard to stop Seeun from doing it. Maybe this will be a lesson for her to learn from, you think, trying to reassure yourself.

The next afternoon, when your parents are busy playing cards with another couple and Seeun is off somewhere with her friends, you sneak off to visit Sunghoon in his dance classroom. He has an hour free in between classes and you use that opportunity to mess around for a bit. You put on a song you both love and dance together whichever way you want, acting out and lipsyncing to the lyrics. You have fun teasing him by swerving your head when he leans in for a kiss or trailing your hand along his arms, shoulders and back.

The sound of loud footsteps coming up the stairs spoils your fun, and you quickly position yourself face to the mirror and pretend you’re practicing basic mambo moves while Sunghoon heads to the record player. The one and only Jay stands at the door and seems to falter for a second at seeing you here.

“Hey, Baby, taking dance lessons?” You simply nod at him. “I could teach you kid,” he says, mirroring your moves and dancing a few steps until Sunghoon makes the record scratch, stopping the music abruptly. Jay’s arms drop to the side and he gives you a look as if to say “check this guy out,” and you try not to roll your eyes at him. 

“Sunghoon,” he says, walking towards him with all the confidence of a boss talking to his employee. The addressee simply raises his chin at him, pretending to busy himself with the record player. “My grandfather put me in charge of the talent show, and I’ve been thinking about the final dance. I’d like to uh, you know, do something different-”

“Yeah?”

“Move with the times-”

“Yeah? That’s great, I’ve got plenty of ideas-” Sunghoon says, speaking so quickly he cuts himself off, but Jay’s smile drops instantly. “We’ve been working on something with the staff, it goes like-”

You watch in the mirror as Sunghoon dances a step you’ve never seen before, and it looks really cool but Jay shakes his head, gesturing at Sunghoon to quiet down like he would a kid, as if they weren’t the exact same age.

“Woah there, you’re way over your head, boy.” Sunghoon stands up straight once again, jaw locked tight. “I was thinking, instead of doing the last dance to the mambo, how about, this year, doing it to the pachanga?” Jay asks, looking at you with a smile and nodding, as if he’d just said the most revolutionary thing ever.

“Right,” Sunghoon says coldly, bursting Jay’s bubble.

“Well,” he says, clearing his throat, “you’re more than welcome to do the same tired number as the previous years, but I’m sure that next summer, we’ll find a dance instructor who’s-”

“The pachanga,” Sunghoon cuts him off, raising his voice over Jay’s. “Great idea, Jay, let’s do that.”

A satisfied smile grows on Jay’s lips as Sunghoon turns back to the record player, and he struts back towards you. When he’s close enough, he leans in and says conspiratorially, but still loud enough for Sunghoon to hear, “He’s, uh, a bit hard to get through to sometimes, but the ladies seem to like him.” He doesn’t realize that you’re one of said ladies. “Make sure you’re getting the full half-hour you’re paying, kid,” he says once he’s at the door, and slips out on that graceful note.

Sunghoon’s next class takes place on the gazebo, so you accompany him there, trying to keep up with his long strides made quicker by his frustration. “God, I just hate that guy, he has no idea what he’s talking about. He wouldn’t recognise a good idea if it hit him in the pachanga,” he huffs angrily.

“But can’t you just talk to him? I’m sure he’d listen if you’d just tell him-”

“Didn’t you see what happened, Baby? He won’t listen. I can’t get everything I want just by asking, he’s the one with the money, with the power, I can’t do anything-”

“But it isn’t right! You have to fight harder-”

“That’s not how it works for me, Baby-”

You let out a small gasp, interrupting Sunghoon whose head pivots towards you, but you take him by the shoulders and bring him down to a crouch next to you. He follows your gaze to find your father, leaving a building with Heeseung and Seeun. Your dad brings his arm around Heeseung and shakes his shoulder in a fatherly manner while Seeun looks at them with a smile. 

Sunghoon’s muscles tense in realization - you don’t want to be caught with him, especially not by your father. 

You’re completely oblivious to this, and stand back up when the three of them are out of sight. “Alright, I think they’re gone,” you say, and only realize what you’ve done when you see the tight expression on Sunghoon’s face.

“Fight harder, huh?”

You just messed up real bad. “No, Sunghoon, I was planning on telling him, I just haven’t yet-”

“I don’t believe you, Baby. I don’t think you’ve ever had the intention of telling him,” he says, shaking his head. His eyes look down at you harshly, and it hurts so much more now than when you’d just met. 

“Sunghoon, please-”

“I gotta go. I’ll see you later, Y/N.”

You watch Sunghoon’s shrinking figure, cursing yourself for your cowardice and for your inability to do exactly what you preach. Your father was already so disappointed in you for simply being friends with Sunghoon, so if he knew what you were actually up to, he might go and disown you.

A few hours with no one to spend them with get you thinking. You had always thought your father was the best man on earth. Funny, loving, kind, fair. But you now realize it might not be so - he is prejudiced towards people who aren’t like him and isn’t forgiving of others’ mistakes. He made you believe in a world where everyone should be equal, but he himself doesn’t treat everyone the same. 

You also hate what this is doing to Sunghoon. You, who had told him he deserved everything he wanted, weren’t even capable of holding his hand proudly for everyone to see. So, for Sunghoon’s sake as well as for your own, you have to tell your father how you feel for Sunghoon, and put up a fight if he tries to stop it.

But first, you had to find Sunghoon and apologize. It’s nearing dinnertime, and he shouldn’t be working anymore, so you go look for him in his room. He isn’t there, so you head to his dance studio, then the gazebo, and anywhere else you can think of where he might have classes. But he’s nowhere to find, and after half-an-hour of running around, your last option is to go ask Chaewon where Sunghoon might be. At least, you know she’ll be in her room, still recovering.

You take a second to catch your breath then knock on Chaewon’s door, then wait until she calls you in to open the door. “Hey, Chaewon, have you seen Sunghoon?” you ask, only realizing after you’ve said the words that it might be rude to be so direct, but you don’t have time to apologize because your eyes shift to the other person in the room, who is, of course, Sunghoon himself. He stands up from his seat on the armchair in the corner, looking at you with an unreadable expression. He could be anywhere on a scale where one extreme is ‘he hates you and never wants to talk to you again’ and ‘he has never been so relieved to see you’ and you’d have no idea.

“Can we, um, talk? Outside, if it’s okay?” you ask, eyes darting back and forth between Sunghoon and Chaewon. She smiles and jerks her head towards the door, silently telling Sunghoon to go with you. He purses his lips and nods, following you outside and closing the door behind him.

He rests his palms on the banister of the front porch, looking out at the lawn and the resort buildings in the distance. You stand behind him, bringing your palms up to his arms and kissing his shoulder. He closes his eyes and sighs, basking in your touch despite himself. “I’m sorry, Sunghoon. I’m sorry.” 

He turns around, gazing down at you with that unreadable expression on his face. “It’s okay. I understand.”

When he kisses you, the relief in your bones is like nothing else, better even than coming home to your bed after a long, tiring day, or than getting a good grade on a test you thought you’d failed. Your arms wrap around his neck while his find their way to your waist, and you revel in the closeness of your bodies and the taste of his lips, like mint and something uniquely Sunghoon that you can’t ever get enough of.

But unfortunately, you stay long enough in this position to attract the attention of a one-man audience. “Damn, guess I picked the wrong sister,” you hear Heeseung chuckle, and when you pull away from Sunghoon, you see that insufferable smirk on his face. How you wish you could just smack it off of there. “Didn’t know you put out like that, Baby.”

It all happens so quickly, you don’t have time to understand what’s going on, let alone stop Sunghoon from jumping over the banister. He stomps over to Heeseung, grabbing him by the collar and shaking hard. 

“Repeat what you just said, I dare you,” he says in a low, menacing voice, face close to Heeseung’s. The latter’s smirk falters for just a split second before coming back, as if incapable of not looking like an arrogant asshole for more than a few seconds at a time.

“I said,” Heeseung starts, “that I hadn’t thought Baby was so fucking easy.”

Heeseung has barely finished speaking that Sunghoon has raised his fist back, ready to strike the insolent expression off of the boy’s face. It’d be satisfying, that’s for sure, but it wouldn’t be worth risking his job, so you call out his name and make him stop in his tracks. He doesn’t look back at you, though, just keeps his hard gaze fixated on Heeseung, breathing heavily in anger.

“Sunghoon, please,” you repeat, pleading with him. 

“So, what’s it gonna be, loverboy?” Heeseung teases, but Sunghoon just drops his fist and pushes him away, making him stumble a few steps back. 

“You’re not worth it,” Sunghoon practically spits, sending one last cold look his way before walking back to you.

You don’t care enough to check how Heeseung reacts, just watching Sunghoon make his way back to you, relieved nothing happened. He stands in front of the banister, the height difference allowing you to hug his head to your chest and you press a kiss to the top of his head, whispering in his hair that you’re proud of him.

Soon afterwards, you have to head back to the building where the talent show will happen. He could do it anywhere else, but Sunghoon decides to plan out his performance in the same room, using the excuse of needing to see the stage just to stay around you. 

You’re painting some sort of fake coconut tree while competitors rehearse their performance, your sister by far the loudest of them. You try not to cringe as her dissonant voice reverbs around the room, but nobody pays her too much attention. It’s hard not to steal glances every two seconds at Sunghoon, and you tell yourself that he just looks especially good today in his tight black t-shirt and black jeans, but you also know he looks good everyday. His gaze also strays towards you more often than not, and you try not to burst into giggles every time your eyes meet, not wanting to raise any suspicion. 

This room is also where a group of men play their games of poker, and since it was big enough to host all of you, they had decided to stay there even through the preparations, sure that it wouldn’t disrupt their game. 

The not-staring takes on another level of difficulty when a lady you recognize as Vivian Kim leaves her spot standing behind her husband at the poker table to make her way to Sunghoon, walking in a fashion far too languorous for your taste. 

From where you are, you can’t hear exactly what she says, but it’s not hard to guess - an invitation to spend the night with her while her husband is busy, one last time before she leaves the resort and goes home.

Sunghoon stays silent but that doesn’t seem to deter her, and she flashes him a lurid smile before walking back to the poker table. He turns his head to check if you’ve seen what happened, but you look away from him and back at your coconut tree, hoping the jealousy you’re feeling isn’t written all over your face. 

Vivian’s husband calls out Sunghoon’s name, waving him over good-naturedly. You watch once again as Sunghoon walks over to the table and as Mr Kim pulls out dollar bills from his wallet. “Tonight’s the final poker tournament, so how about some dance lessons for my wife?” he asks, and you can’t tell from his tone whether he thinks that dance lessons really are what his money is paying for or if he knows what’s actually going on.

Sunghoon takes the money and Mr Kim smiles at him, returning to the game, but Sunghoon just stands there, staring at the bills in his hands, then to Vivian, behind him to you, and finally back at Mr Kim. “Thanks, Mr Kim, but I’m all booked up for the rest of the week ‘cause of the show, so I don’t think it’d be fair to take the money.”

Mr Kim nods as Sunghoon hands him back the cash, saying he appreciates his honesty. Vivian looks at him, eyes wide, obviously surprised at his sudden refusal. Sunghoon walks back to his seat, sending a small smile your way, and you try your best not to gloat. 

-

In the past few days, it’s become a bit of a habit to sneak out of your bungalow and rush to Sunghoon’s when your family has gone to sleep. Except tonight, what you don’t know is that Seeun hears you, because she’s planning on doing the exact same thing and paying Heeseung a visit. You’re already with your own lover when she heads out of the room, skipping in excitement and anticipation the whole way there. She’s applied lotion to her entire body, sprayed perfume to her neck, wrists and ankles, and has read all the sex advice columns of her favorite magazines - she’s more than prepared for this.

She reaches the door. Takes a deep breath in, stands up straight. Calls out, “Heeseung, it’s me!” but no answer comes. So she opens the door slightly, and almost drops her bag at the sight in front of her, gasping loudly. She has just enough reflex to close the door again and rest her back against it, taking a few seconds to let it sink in before running back to her bed, where she promptly explodes into tears.

Now more than ever, she wishes her sister was here, whether to comfort her or to say “I told you so.” She wishes you were here to help her make sense of finding Vivian Kim and Heeseung naked together in his bed when he had spent weeks making her believe he wanted to be with her and her only. She wishes you would curse him out and call him all the names she wants to but doesn’t have the courage to.

But unfortunately, you’re not there with her. Instead, you’re with Sunghoon, laying together in bed, your head resting on his chest and your legs intertwined. You’re both spent from a night of lovemaking and from your shower that was supposed to be innocent but quickly turned steamy. You wake up at dawn, knowing you’ll have to go soon but heart breaking at the thought of tearing yourself from Sunghoon’s warm embrace. You press soft kisses to his neck and whisper his name, trying to wake him up gently. His eyes stay closed as he tightens his arms around you and pleads with you to stay just a little bit longer, and you’re not strong enough to say no.

“I had a dream earlier where your father called me ‘son’ and put his arm around me like he did with Heeseung earlier.” His morning voice is raspy from sleep and sends butterflies straight to your stomach.

“I’m sorry, Sunghoon,” you hum. “I’ll talk to him today. I’ll tell him about you.”

You feel his chest rise up then down as he sighs. “I thought about it, and I feel like it’d make things even worse if he knew about us. He just seems to think I’m a bad guy, for some reason, and me being with his daughter will only make him hate me more.”

“But you’re not a bad guy. You’re the best guy,” you say, voice slightly whiny. You’re too sleepy to come up with a better reply, and it makes Sunghoon chuckle.

“Thanks, Baby.” He presses a kiss to your hair, and it’s become such a familiar gesture that you’re not sure how you’ll live without it once you go home.

It’s not long before you have to head back to your bungalow, and Sunghoon walks you outside, slotting his lips with yours for one last time this morning and making plans to meet up later. You don’t pay attention to anything other than him - not to the slight breeze picking up, or the sun rising, or the staff bungalows, off to the side from Sunghoon’s. But not paying attention means not noticing a figure standing on one of those staff bungalows, not seeing her eyes squinting at yours and Sunghoon’s embrace, first recognising him, and, once her initial shock wears off, recognising you. Because of course, just like you, Vivian Kim has to leave Heeseung’s bungalow before anyone notices - except that in your case, someone notices you.

And the consequences of it appear only a few hours later, as your family are having a late breakfast with Max and Jay. When the conversation first begins, you don’t think it’ll be of much importance to you.

“You know that feeling when you look at a patient and think he’s all fine, but then you get his x-rays and something’s completely wrong?” Max starts, addressing your father. “That’s exactly what it is to find out one of your staff, a trusted one at that, is a thief.”

“What happened, Max?” your father asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“Mr Kim’s wallet was stolen,” Max simply says, sighing. Jay jumps on the opportunity to explain the story himself, leaning in conspiratorially.

“It happened yesterday night when he was playing poker. One minute, his wallet was right there in his coat pocket, hanging on his chair behind him, and the next, it wasn’t.” Your sister lets out a small gasp.

“Vivian says she saw that dance kid Sunghoon walk by,” Max continues, and your head snaps up at the mention of Sunghoon’s name. “So we go and ask him if he’s got an alibi, and he says he was in his room alone all night, reading.”

Jay snorts. “There is not a single book in Sunghoon Park’s room.”

The whole time, you’re shaking your head slightly, unable to believe that Sunghoon might be wrongfully framed for this. You turn towards Jay, a pleading expression on your face. “Listen, there’s been a mistake, there’s no way Sunghoon did it-”

“There’s been similar thefts at the Sheldrake and even here. Three wallets stolen, and now Mr Kim’s!”

“No, I know he didn’t do it-”

“Stay out of it, Baby!” Jay snaps at you. You look at him in disbelief, because of the way he just talked to you, because of what they’re accusing Sunghoon of, but above all because it’s inconceivable that your parents ever wanted to set you up with a guy like him. Entitled, judgmental, unkind.

But you can’t just stay out of it - this concerns Sunghoon, and if you can stop it from happening, you’ll do everything so that he doesn’t lose his job over a false accusation. So you turn towards your father and Max, and plead Sunghoon’s case.

“I know Sunghoon didn’t take Mr Kim’s wallet, I know.”

“How can you be so sure?” your father asks.

“I-I can’t tell you, but Daddy, please, you have to trust me.”

Your father sighs, turning his attention back to his plate. “I’m sorry, Baby, but I can’t.”

“But- it could’ve been anyone else,” you continue, looking at Max now that your father avoids your gaze. “Maybe it was- oh, maybe it was that little old couple, the Schumachers, I saw her with a couple of wallets-”

“The Schumachers? Impossible,” Max refutes as your father furrows his eyebrows at you, raising his voice slightly.

“You don’t go around accusing innocent people, Baby!”

“But I saw them, I saw them at the Sheldrake- you said something was stolen at the Sheldrake, right?” you say, turning towards Jay again, your voice growing desperate.”

“Listen, Baby,” Max cuts in, voice calm but firm, “I’ve got an eyewitness and the kid has no alibi. Come on, Jay, let me show you how to fire an employee.”

You catch his wrist before he can turn away and gulp, preparing yourself for what you were about to say. “Wait a minute. I know Sunghoon didn’t do it, I know it, because he was in his room all night, and I know that because,” you pause for a second, risking a glance at your father, “because I was there with him.”

The table goes silent. You can feel yourself weighing down under the heavy gazes of everyone seated. After a few seconds that feel like an eternity, Max clears his throat and awkwardly says, “Right, well, we’ll investigate some more in light of these news-”

He’s cut off by the screech of your father’s chair being roughly pushed back. You watch as your father leaves the room, steam coming out of his ears, and you can only hope revealing the truth will be worth it in the end.

After giving your father some time to cool off, you find him in the empty gazebo, looking out at the lake. The water is still except for the parts where ducks dip their heads in and back out. Even now that the rain has stopped pouring every day, clouds still render the sky a blinding white, and the sun only appears now and then when they part enough to let a ray through. There’s a slight breeze that makes leaves flutter around, and you need to tighten your light cardigan around your shoulders.

You know he sees you approaching, but he keeps his gaze fixated on the lake, even when you call out to him. 

“I told you I wasn’t lying about Sunghoon,” you start. “But I’m sorry I lied about the money. I’m not proud of myself for that, you know. But you lied too,” you say, and he finally looks at you, awaiting an explanation. “You told me everyone deserved a fair break, but you meant everyone like you. You said I could change the world, but you meant by becoming a lawyer, or an economist, and marrying someone from Harvard!”

He closes his eyes as if in pain, then looks back out to the lake, staying silent. “I made a mistake. There’s things about me you don’t know, and things you might not like, but I’m in this family too, and if you love me, you’ll have to love my faults too.” Your voice shakes and your eyes start to water. Seeing your father’s eyes do the same only adds to the difficulty of saying what you want to say.

“Because I love you, Daddy, and I’m sorry I let you down, but you let me down too!” Your voice completely breaks on those last words, and you turn away, letting your feet guide you wherever before your dad can hear the sob that escapes your throat. You know your dad’s silent treatment won’t last for long, so you leave him in the gazebo to think and cry as much as he needs to.

Your body must have developed new instincts, because soon enough, you find yourself in Sunghoon’s cabin, unsure how you even got here. His things are still there, which reassures you of the fact that he hasn’t left yet. You pace back and forth in the room for a few minutes until your emotions suddenly come crashing down, all the stress and tension and strung feelings, leaving behind only exhaustion. You lay on Sunghoon’s bed, thinking you’ll just close your eyes for a few minutes. But when you open them again, they fall on Sunghoon’s face, and you have no idea how long you’ve been there.

“Sunghoon?” you murmur.

“I have been looking for you all over,” he says, crouching in front of you, and gives you time to sit up and rub the sleep out of your eyes. “You were right about the Schumachers. Fingerprinted their glasses. Turns out they were wanted in a bunch of other states for theft too. They found them when they were already trying to leave the resort,” he explains, and your smile grows wider and wider as he speaks. 

“Oh my God, that’s amazing! I knew it’d work out!”

But Sunghoon diverts his gaze down, unable to match your euphoric expression. “I’m out, Baby.”

You quickly put two and two together. “They fired you anyway because of me.” 

“And if I leave quietly, I get my summer bonus,” he says sarcastically.

Your anger makes you stand up, walk to one corner of the room then back, your voice rising on its own accord. “So I did it all for nothing, then? I hurt my family, you lost your job anyway - it was all for nothing!”

“It was not for nothing!” Sunghoon exclaims, volume matching yours. “Nobody has ever done anything like that for me!” He searches your eyes for the reassurance that everything that happened this summer was worth it, but he only finds sorrow in them.

“You were right, Sunghoon,” you say with a sad smile, voice lowering to a hum, “you can’t change anything no matter how hard you try.”

“No, Baby,” he says, walking towards you, “I don’t want that from you, you hear me? You can. You can do whatever you want.”

Your gazes stay locked in each other for a few painful moments until it becomes unbearable and you have to look away. “I used to think so too.”

There’s nothing left to say. You watch silently as Sunghoon begins packing the few belongings he has in two small suitcases and a rucksack, then help out when the passivity starts to make your muscles ache. He hasn’t got much, so he’s done in just a few minutes, and you don’t realize you have tears pooling in your eyes until Sunghoon himself notices and wordlessly takes you in his arms.

You’re heading to his car when he suddenly stops in his tracks, saying he has something he needs to do first. You don’t question it, just agree to wait for him. It’s not like you’ve got anything better to do anyway.

A few minutes later, unbeknownst to you, Sunghoon is knocking on your cabin’s door. Just as he’d hoped, your father is the one to open the door, squinting his eyes meanly at the young man behind it as soon as he realizes who he is. Your father stays silent as he stares Sunghoon down, making a chill run down Sunghoon’s neck. He clears his throat before speaking. “Doctor, I-” he starts, already cutting himself off to take off his sunglasses. “I’m going anyway, and I know what you must be thinking-”

“You don’t know anything about me,” your father interrupts, shaking his head in disdain at Sunghoon. “Anything at all.”

Sunghoon had really wanted to stay calm and focused, to just say what he wanted to stay, but now that he’s leaving, he has no reason to put up with the blatant disrespect and contempt of the clients and higher-ups any longer. “I know you want Baby to be like you. An admirable person, the kind people look up to, but if you could just see, she’s already like that-”

“I know my daughter far better than you do, so don’t you tell me what to see,” your father practically barks, unable to contain his anger. “What I see right now is someone who got his partner in trouble and sent her off to some butcher, then moved on to a younger, innocent girl like my Baby.”

Rather than frustrated, Sunghoon’s eyes grow tired and sad. There’s no fight left in him anymore - he can see he won’t be able to change your father’s mind, there’s no point even trying. “Yeah, I guess that’s what you would see,” he murmurs before walking away, back to you, the only person who’s ever wanted to truly understand him.

And then it’s goodbye. 

While you were waiting, you kicked pebbles, brooding over the fact that your already shortening time with Sunghoon was getting cut off even more. But as soon as you see him, those thoughts evaporate, and you’re left with bittersweetness in your mouth. You spent the most incredible summer with him by your side, and even though it’s coming to an end, maybe the experience and the memories are all that matters.

Sunghoon closes the trunk when he’s done packing it, and walks over to where you’re standing, back against the passenger door, arms crossed over your chest. He rests his forearm on top of the car and neither of you are able to look the other in the eye for fear of emotion overwhelming you.

“Guess we took them all by surprise, huh?” you say, trying on a light-hearted tone to dissolve the tension in the air.

“Guess we did,” he chuckles quietly, risking a glance up at you. Your eyes meet and before you can break down, you turn your body towards his, nesting your face in the crook of his neck. He presses a kiss to your hair like a hundred times before and it’s enough to make your heart break. 

“I don’t know what I’ll do without you around.”

He rests his chin on the top of your head. “You’ll just have more time for card games and croquet,” he jokes, but you can’t laugh. “And Jake and Chaewon will still be around.” It’s silent for a few more minutes, and you try to commit the feeling of him against you and the smell of his skin to memory. “I’ll never be sorry,” he finally says, voice muffled by your hair.

“Neither will I,” you whisper against his neck.

He inhales deeply and tears himself away, gazing down at you sadly. With his thumb, he wipes a tear as it drops down your cheek, and presses his lips to yours in one last kiss, tasting the saltiness of your heartbreak. “I’ll see you around, Baby,” he says against your lips, forehead resting against yours. But he can’t linger - it would only make this impossible moment even harder.

Your vision is too blurry for you to see properly as he walks to the other side of the car and disappears in the driver’s seat. In a matter of seconds, his car becomes a fuzzy black dot in the distance, and you’ve no choice but to walk back to the place that made you discover love only to rip it from your hands.

-

The three days until the talent show feel like eternity. Counting down the minutes until you leave doesn’t make time go by any faster, but you don’t feel like doing anything else. You hang out with Chaewon and Jake and their friends when they’re free, going back with them to the staff main quarters one night, and even though the music is the same as the first time, Sunghoon’s absence changes everything. You can’t dance without imagining his hands on your waist and his voice guiding you through the steps. 

Seeun is also a lot nicer to you. She tells you what happened with Heeseung, and it’s like your shared love troubles bring you closer, reminding you that you’re not so different after all. As you get ready to go watch the talent show, she sits next to you on the bed, offering to do your hair. But then she takes a strand of it in her hands, trailing her fingers through it, and looks at you with a soft smile. “You know what, I think it looks perfect just like that.” 

You mirror her smile and drop your head to her shoulder. You stay like this for a few seconds, words unnecessary to understand each other. “You’ll do great tonight, Seeun. I can’t wait to watch you.”

“I know,” she replies, making you both giggle. “Now let’s go, it’ll start soon.”

You’re not surprised to see that your parents have chosen to seat you in a corner, trapped between a wall and your father. Practically the same thing, you think, but you’re wise enough to keep the comment to yourself. 

The performers have gathered in a line on the stage, your sister included, to sing the resort’s last day song as a conclusion to the show now that Sunghoon isn’t here to do the final dance. Max even gets his own solo. The song goes on for far too long to your taste, so you take the time to look around the room.

The lights are dim, save for the ones on the stage so that the focus of the audience stays on the performers, and wall fixtures next to the exits so they can be found easily. Chairs have been brought to the center of the room right in front of the stage while tables line the walls, candles adorning each one. Staff don’t get seats - instead, they stand at the back of the room, their backs against the wall as they watch the stage with boredom written all over their faces. You catch Jake’s eyes and he winks at you, a mischievous smile on his face, and you chalk it up to his usual playfulness.

Heeseung walks near your table, and your father stands up, calling out to him. He gets something that looks like an envelope out of his pocket, handing it to him. “Good luck in medical school, son.” Heeseung takes the envelope, looking down at it with a smile, and your father rests a hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you so much, Doc,” Heeseung beams. “And I also wanted to thank you for your help with the Chaewon situation, I guess we’ve all gotten into messes like these, huh?” Your father stands with his back to you, so you can only imagine the way his smile falls and his eyes harden.

“What?”

Heeseung’s smile falters slightly and he chuckles awkwardly. “I-I thought Baby told you… Look, it’s what Chaewon said, but I’m not sure, you never know with girls like that, they could pin it on anyone-”

Your father snatches the envelope back from Heeseung’s hands, glaring at him, and walks back to his seat next to you without a word. It’s only now that you understand your father’s dislike of Sunghoon - he had been certain Sunghoon was the one who had gotten Chaewon into such trouble. How could you have missed that? All this time, you thought it was just because Sunghoon was part of the staff and didn’t come from your world. Regret and frustration bubble up in your stomach. So many misunderstandings could’ve been avoided if only you had known what your father thought.

It’s only after a few minutes that he breaks the silence. “I’m sorry, Baby.”

You take a deep breath in. “Thank you, but I’m not the one you need to apologize to, Daddy.”

He turns his head to look at you. “You’re right. You’re right,” he sighs.

Just then, Jake walks past your table and towards the stage, disappearing behind the curtains on the side. You lift your head, trying to see what he’s up to, but the sound of the doors at the back of the room opening and closing loudly catches your attention. It seems to catch everybody’s attention - you hear small gasps and small murmurs of a familiar name, and your mind directly lands on the possibility, but you don’t believe it until you see it standing right in front of you, a hand reaching out to you - Sunghoon’s here.

“Nobody puts Baby in a corner.”

You take his hand and let him guide you away from the table. You’re so enchanted by seeing him again that you barely notice your mother having to keep your father from stopping you. Together, you climb up the small set of stairs, walking past the performers and standing in the middle of the stage, the music stopping abruptly. His voice booms throughout the room when he speaks.

“Sorry for the disruption folks, but I always do the last dance of the season. This year, I was told not to. So I’m gonna do my kind of dancing with a great partner. Not only is she an amazing dancer, but she also taught me that people will stand for other people no matter what it costs them, and about the kind of person I want to be myself. Miss Y/N Y/L/N, everyone.” 

Whoops emerge from the back of the room where the staff are standing and you watch as Sunghoon walks to the side of the stage, discarding his leather jacket and exchanging a nod with Jake. The music starts to play - it’s a song you’ve heard before, a song you know well because you’ve danced to it many times with Sunghoon. It’s a song you love. 

He walks towards you, a smirk on his face, eyes heavy with desire. He places his hands on your waist, your own coming up to his forearm, and dips you backwards in a circle, which elicits more cheers from the dancers. He then stands behind you, imitating the starting position of the dance for your performance at the Sheldrake. The music picks up, and after that, it’s like magic. You and Sunghoon know exactly what to do, a mix of the choreography he’d taught you and of other moves you had picked up when you just danced together for fun. All the steps and turns come to you as if you know this dance by heart, and the whole time, you’re looking into each other’s eyes as they shine with happiness.

Sunghoon makes you spin away from him, and, your arm extended between you two, brings your hand up to his lips and places a delicate kiss to the back of it. Then, he jumps off the stage, prompting gasps and cheers from all around the room, and makes his way while dancing to the back of the room, where the dancers join him. Seconds before the second chorus is about to start, some of them run to you and help you off the stage, and Sunghoon nods at you from the middle of the room. So you run to him, gathering momentum until you reach him and he picks you up, lifting you from the ground up into the air, and you manage to keep your bird-like position for a few seconds. A huge smile breaks on your face as everybody cheers, your mother and sister clapping excitedly and even your father looking at you, astonished, proud. 

Sunghoon brings you back down slowly, grinning as he gazes at you with only love in his eyes. “I knew you could do it,” he whispers.

The staff starts to invite the guests to dance with them, pushing chairs to the side and getting people to stand up. Jake shows Seeun how to move, reminiscent of the way Sunghoon had done with you, your mother and Jay dance together, and the whole room turns into a dancefloor where couples and small groups can let go and move however they want to. 

You and Sunghoon head to the exit to find a quieter place, but your father calls out to you before you can slip away. “I found out you weren’t the one to get Chaewon in trouble.” Sunghoon simply nods. “I was wrong. I apologize,” he says solemnly, and the corners of Sunghoon’s lips tug slightly upwards.

“Thank you, Doctor Y/L/N.”

Your father’s eyes drift to you, and his polite expression turns affectionate. “You looked great up there, Baby.” You sigh, relief washing over your whole body and alleviating the weight on your heart. You let go of Sunghoon’s hands to wrap your arms around your father’s neck, and he takes you in a brief but tight hug.

“I’ll let you two go now. I need to find your mother, haven’t danced with her in ages. That’s something else I can thank you for,” he says, smiling down at you.

You watch him walk away for a few seconds until Sunghoon takes your hand in his again, and you slip out the doors to the front lawn. Outside, you close your eyes and take a deep breath of fresh air in, laughing for no reason other than simple joy when your eyes meet his.

He leads you to the gazebo and brings his hands to your waist again. The song is nearing its end but you can still hear it drifting through the open doors and windows of the room. You know that even when it’s over, it’ll keep playing in your head - and in your heart.

Just like you’ll always keep Sunghoon there.

You move slowly to the rhythm of the last chorus, gazing into each other’s eyes. You want to enjoy this moment for what it is, but the fact that you’re leaving tomorrow won’t leave your thoughts. This might very well be the last time you and Sunghoon ever dance together, or ever see each other. You can give each other your address and send letters, or exchange home phone numbers and call, but how long will that last? You’ll go to college while he goes home and starts working with his father again, or finds a way to fulfill his dream.

He probably sees the sadness in your eyes and brings you closer to him. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to - you know the same thoughts are cramping his mind. Words are unnecessary, and promises are futile, so for now, you forget everything else, and focus on the sway of your bodies and on his hands holding you tight against him.

Resting the side of your head on his shoulder, you look up at the night sky. The stars are shining bright, unbothered by any clouds, and the full moon gazes down at you protectively. Even when you’re apart, you and Sunghoon will still sleep under the same moon every night. You may be just one of the many love stories she’s witnessed, but you dare to think that yours is a special one, one that can’t be reproduced, one that is uniquely yours.

You continue to dance even when the song is over, letting your bodies bask in the moonlight.

fic taglist: @jaetaimjadore @sleepingsag permanent taglist: @ozymandia-s @bbujiikseu @sunghoonmybeloved @lalalalawon @sd211 © asahicore on tumblr, 2023. please do not plagiarize, repost or translate my works. feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

#sunghoon smut #enhypen smut #sunghoon angst #enhypen angst #sunghoon fluff #enhypen fluff #sunghoon x reader #enhypen x reader #sunghoon fanfiction #enhypen fanfiction #sunghoon au #enhypen au

[byersbootyshorts]

Guitar Lessons

Summary: Eddie has a thing for playing his guitar at some unholy hour of the night. You're there to punish him for it.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: sub!Eddie, dom!reader, some heavy ass smut, mommy kink, wrist restraints

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: This is the first time I've ever written a one shot let alone a smutty one. Please be nice and enjoy.

You wake up with a start. What the hell is that racket? It takes you a few moments to come to your senses before you realised what had woken you from your peaceful slumber. It was the sound of an electric guitar blasting through the windows of your dingy old trailer.

God, one thing you hated about living in a trailer park was the unrelenting lack of silence. If it wasn’t the wheels of Max’s skateboard on the pavement or a random baby’s cry echoing through the park it was Eddie Munson’s BC Rich Warlock blaring whatever song he felt like playing at two in the morning.

You were surprised when you first moved to the park that none of the other residents did anything about his late-night jam sessions but you weren’t going to let that stop you from trying.

And so, every night you heard that guitar blast through your window you got up, threw on the first hoodie you put your hands on and walked over to the trailer two down from your own.

It started out as a simple telling off. Pounding the door, telling him to shut up because its literally 2am and slamming the door in his face again.

But one day he decided to say something back.

‘Hey, you just moved in, didn’t you?’ he blurted out before you could slam the door on him for the third time that week.

You paused, releasing the tension in your arm that was about to whip the door shut.

‘Uh, yeah. I moved in two trailers down last month,’ you replied, your annoyance reflecting in your voice.

‘You wanna come in?’

And that was where it started. It turned out Eddie wasn’t the asshole he made himself out to be. You’d never admit it but you couldn’t wait for those nights when you’d be awoken by a riff from another Black Sabbath song. Those few hours in the dead of night spent in Eddie’s trailer were some of the best. Underneath his rock star ego was an intriguing guy you couldn’t help but like.

As those nights of talking went on and the two of you got more comfortable around each other it soon became clear it wasn’t just talking you wanted to be doing. What started out as nights of deep conversation turned into nights of, well, deep something else.

Tonight is no different. You scramble to pull on the Hellfire Club shirt you ‘borrowed’ from Eddie as you hear the familiar thrum from down the park. You exit your room, almost running to the door when you hear your mother’s voice coming from her bedroom.

 ‘Make sure he knows if he plays that goddamn guitar this late again it’ll be me coming over there to give him a piece of my mind!’ she shouts angrily.

‘Oh, don’t worry mom. He’s in for it,’ you reply, stumbling out the door.

You’re barely half way to his trailer when the riff stops and the flimsy door flies open. He’s been watching for you.

Before a you even share a word, you’re pushing him back into the dimly lit living room, lips on his. After a few minutes of silent making out you reluctantly pull away.

‘How many times do I have to tell you to shut the hell up,’ you say between kisses.

‘As many as it takes for you to do that thing you did a couple nights ago,’ he said breathily.

Your mind drifts back to that night and a smirk forms on your face. Compared to what you have planned for tonight choking him like you had a few nights prior was child’s play.

Eventually the two of you managed to make your way to his bedroom. You can already feel how hard he is under his tight black jeans. You pull him off you and throw him onto his bed. The way he stares up at you with those dark chocolate eyes almost makes you melt.

‘You know, my mom said if you pull that shit one more time, she’s gonna come over here and speak to you herself,’ you began to move closer to the bed. ‘I said I’d teach you a lesson.’

You’re on top of him now, lips only an inch from his.

’You’d rather have me punish you than her, wouldn’t you?’ you whisper, grabbing his dick, making him squirm.

‘Yes, yes mommy,’ he gulps.

‘I’ll only do it if you ask me to,’ you tease, getting off him slowly, as if to leave. ‘If you beg me to.’

Without hesitation he grabs your waist and sets you back on top of him.

‘Please, please, I want you to, please.’

‘You want me to what?’

‘Punish me. Please mommy, I want you to punish me. I’ve been a bad boy.’

It almost makes you laugh how desperate he is. Lying there practically writhing when you haven’t even taken any clothes of yet.

On that note you point at his chest and order him to take off his shirt while you undo his belt painfully slowly, making sure to rub against his bulging jeans as much as possible.

When, at last, you pull his pants off, and remove your own clothes, you look up to find him with his eyes closed, gripping his sheets.

‘You can’t be like that already,’ you taunt. ‘We’re just getting started.’

He just nods, raggedly breathing like he’s just run a marathon.

‘Excuse me, look at me when I speak to you,’ you raise your voice.

His eyes whip open to reveal a look of pure desperation.

‘Good boy,’ you hum, stroking his hair. That only drives him more crazy.

‘Now I feel you need to learn a lesson or two,’ you say, beginning to leave a trail of hickeys down his collar bone and chest as he shifts uncomfortably beneath you. ‘Lesson number one, you need to learn to be patient. I mean look at you already.’ You pull his hair to lift his head so he look at the state he’s already in.

‘This isn’t going to be much fun for me if you’re done before we even get started now, is it?’

He shakes his head violently.

‘Then let’s see how long you can last for me.’

You slowly ease your way onto his dick, stifling a moan as you take it all in. He isn’t so subtle. He throws his head back, grabbing your thighs and releases a breathy moan.

‘Ah, ah, ah,’ you tease removing his hands from your thighs. ‘Don’t make me tie you up. I can’t punish you if you’re all over me like that.’

Without thinking he whines, ‘Please, fuck, please tie me up.’ He glances over to his bedside table where a long piece of rope lies waiting. You begin to laugh.

‘You little slut,’ you say, reaching over to grab the rope. ‘You wanted this all along.’

You tightly tie his hands to his bedpost, all the while still sitting on his dick. You have to admit, you’re surprised he hasn’t came already. So, you decide to up the action.

Without warning you begin to grind up and down on his dick, immediately receiving the reaction you’d hope for.

‘Mmh, oh fuck,’ Eddie moans, a little louder than you’d expected.

You smirk. It’s time for his second lesson.

‘Lesson number two. You need to learn to shut the hell up. First your loud ass guitar and now this. How about giving the people in this trailer park a bit of peace and quiet,’ you bend down, put your finger on his lip and whisper, ‘shhh.’

You remove your finger and replace it with your lips, kissing his lips, neck and chest while continuing to grind at a faster pace. Every so often his hips jut upwards but that only makes you grind faster.

‘Don’t do that. You wanna be a good boy, don’t you?’

He can only reply with a choked whimper.

‘Then start acting like one.’

After a while of grinding and hair pulling and choking, you too begin to feel yourself become weak with pleasure.

‘Okay, let’s make a deal, shall we?’ you begin, looking down into his tear-filled eyes. ‘If you can hold off and wait to cum at the same time as me, I’ll let you scream as loud as you want.’

The look in his eyes tells you all you need to know.

You use him like a doll until you feel you can go no longer. You look down at him gazing back up at you, his bangs stuck to the sweat on his forehead.

‘You’re so pretty,’ you say without thinking.

And that just about sends him over the edge. His hips jut upwards again, almost splitting you in half as he cries, ‘Oh god, please. I’ve been so good. I’ve been so quiet. I did everything you asked mommy. Please, fuck, please,’ he pleads

You love it when he begs like that. Looking so pathetic but so beautiful at the same time. It’s almost too much for you too.

‘Okay, okay. You have been a good boy. Thank you for that.’ You stare into his deep brown eyes for a moment before ordering, ‘Go on then.’

He doesn’t have to be told twice. Within seconds he’s cumming, and so are you. He screams your name louder than you’ve ever heard him scream it before. And you’re whispering his, trying to keep your composure.

When at last you both come down from your euphoria you begrudgingly lift yourself off him and untie his restraints. You lie on the bed as he practically shakes beside you, breathing in time with you.

‘Well, did you learn your lessons then,’ you ask after a moment of recovery.

Still out of breath, he replies, ‘If it means we get to do that again, then fuck no.’

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #sub!eddie munson #smut oneshot #dom!reader #lord have mercy #stranger things #st season 4 #eddie munson smut

[hbyrde36]

Shelter in Place (Pt. 1 of 2)

a Steddie fic AO3 link

Written for @thefreakandthehair - Lex’s Spicy Six Summer Challenge!

My prompt was : Hurricane

WC: 6,648 Rating: E (for smut in pt. 2)

Summary:

When a major Hurricane is projected to hit Hawkins (technically it’s more like the remnants of a hurricane, but the residents of Hawkins don’t really know the difference or care), Dustin is worried about his new friend and DM, Eddie Munson, who lives in a trailer, a structure not known for its resilience against severe weather. He invites the older boy to ride the storm out with him and his mom at home, unaware that she has made arrangements for them to stay with family that live far away from the storm's trajectory. Dustin doesn’t want to leave his friend high and dry, enter everyone’s favorite babysitter: Steve Harrington.

Notes: Yes, there really was a hurricane called Bob in 1979. Not Robert. BOB. (followed closely by tropical storm Claudette, both made at least some sort of appearance in or near indiana.)

I had to do a quick google search to make sure hurricanes even happened in that area of the country. They do, sort of, but only like every 7-10 years. I live in a coastal town and we get at least one hurricane a year and it just did not occur to me that this is not a thing in some places🙈.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Steve was nearing the end of his shift at family video, alone because Robin could only work part time during the school year, when Dustin called.

He sighed into the telephone, leaning heavily on the counter as he listened to the kid prattle on at 100 miles an hour about some kind of emergency . Steve had panicked for a second, until Dustin explained that it wasn’t a code-red emergency, just a regular mundane one. He could have cried in relief. It’d only been a little over two months since their last run-in with the Upside-Down, and if he was honest with himself, he still wasn’t 100% back to normal from Starcourt yet. He wasn’t sure he ever would be.

Dustin proceeded to go on and on about his new best friend and fellow D&D nerd, Eddie, and Steve tried to listen, he really did, but he had no idea what the hell any of it had to do with him. Then Henderson finally dropped the bomb.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Are you really asking me to spend the Hurricane babysitting Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson?” Steve sputtered.

“It’s not babysitting, he’s older than you!”

“He is still in high school though.” Steve smugly pointed out.

“Don’t be an asshole, not everyone is good at school.”

Ok, that was..fair, but Steve still didn’t feel like getting roped into this. “Why can’t he stay at your house again?”

“Were you even listening?” Dustin scoffed. “My mom got too nervous, something about a tree falling on the house back in ‘79. She wants us to evacuate and stay with family for a day or two. I already offered Eddie someplace to go, I can’t take it back now! C’mon Steve, the trailer park isn’t safe, that's why Max and her mom are staying at Lucas’, remember?”

Steve tapped the receiver against his forehead and counted to five. This kid and his fucking tone. “He really doesn’t have anywhere else to go?” 

He was sure Eddie didn’t like him either, there's no way the guy wanted to be stuck with him alone, for god knew how long, anymore than Steve did.

“No, and please don't tell him I said anything, and don’t laugh, but I think he’s kind of freaked out about the storm.”

Steve softened, in all honesty he was too. “I wouldn’t laugh about something like that, Henderson. I'm not a total dick.”

Steve was 12 when Hurricane Bob made landfall in Hawkins, the first major storm he had ever seen. Being so far from any coast, It wasn’t common for Indiana to experience tropical storms. Typically, they only had to deal with minor bad weather from the remnants of them as they dissipated . He had ridden it out alone, having finally hit the age where his mother deemed him old enough not to need a babysitter overnight, unless she and his father planned to be gone for longer than a weekend. He told himself they would have come home to be with him if only the flights hadn’t been grounded. He knows better now, and even back then, he hadn’t truly believed it. 

He'd been prepared to go through this event in much the same way, except now he was grown and could drink himself through the nerves, and the boredom of a power outage, if he wanted to. He would prefer to have company, but the kids needed to be home with their families, Robin was out of town, and Nancy… wasn’t an option. They were fine with each other when the shit hit the fan and all, but they weren't exactly friends. Besides, she was still with Jonathan, even if he was 2,000 miles away with his mom, brother and El. It would just be awkward. 

“So, can he stay with you?” Dustin asked again, bringing Steve back to the present. All of the kid’s cocky tone and kidding was gone for the moment. He really was worried about his friend, Steve realized.

“Does he even know it’s my house you're inviting him to? I wasn't exactly a nice guy for most of high school.” Steve was breaking. He would cave. He knew it. 

“I'm sure it’ll be fine, we talk about you at Hellfire all the time and he's never said anything. Just give him a chance. Who knows, maybe you’ll come out of this with a friend who’s actually your own age.”

“Hey, I have Robin!” Steve protested.

“You need more than one friend, Steve. I’m gonna call Eddie and tell him the good news. Is it okay if he comes right over?”

He still hadn’t exactly said yes, but they both knew he would.

“Yea.. that’s fine. I get off work in fifteen minutes”

-

Steve had only just gotten home himself when the doorbell rang. Here we go , he thought.

“You don’t have to do this y’know.” Eddie grumbled the moment the door opened. Somehow making it sound like he’s the one being put out. 

Steve groaned internally, cursing Dustin for volunteering him and his house for this. He wanted to agree with the guy, would be happy to slam the door in his face even, but Dustin would be pissed if he didn’t at least try to play nice. 

“Come on in, Munson. I’ll show you where you can put your stuff.”

Eddie followed him wordlessly through the foyer and up the stairs, eyes darting around nervously the whole way. He looked so out of place in Steve’s boring upper middle class house, all ripped black jeans, rings glinting on every finger, and a leather jacket. He stood out, demanded to be noticed, just like he always had in school.

Steve showed him the guest room and pointed out the main bathroom down the hall, before ducking into his own room for a sorely needed after work shower. Apart from his gruff greeting, Munson seemed a little more subdued than he had been expecting. He supposed it was a lot, not only the nerves about the impending storm, but being in a strange house with someone he barely knew. He should really take it easy on the guy.

-

Not long after he’d shut the water off and ran a towel over his sopping hair, there was a knock on Steve’s bedroom door. What could Eddie possibly need already? Couldn’t it wait until he got dressed? He huffed, tying the towel securely across his hips and threw open the door.

Eddie stood in the hall with his arms crossed defensively over his chest, still looking back towards the end of the hall as he spoke.

“I know you’ve led a pretty privileged life here, Harrington, but there's things you’re supposed to do to prepare for a hurricane y’know. Meaning you do them before the bad weather hits. I don’t see a single flashlight, or bucket and…”

He turned mid sentence, trailing off as he finally caught sight of Steve standing in the doorway, dripping wet and in nothing but a towel. Eddie turned bright red and quickly looked away, mumbling apologies. It was ridiculous, Steve thought, it was no different than the locker room at school. Guys saw each other in just a towel all the time, sometimes less. Maybe Eddie was shy or something. 

“Give me a few minutes to get some clothes on and we’ll sort it out.” Steve muttered.

Eddie nodded too fast, and too many times. Steve shook his head, backing up to close the door. He may have shut it a little on the harder side, not quite slamming it the way he wanted to, but it was loud enough to signal his annoyance. 

As Steve descended the stairs ten minutes later, he remembered what Dustin said, and his own thoughts about Eddie’s predicament. He found the other boy in the kitchen, rooting through the fridge and decided to let it go, and approach the situation with as much kindness as he could muster. 

He plastered on his brightest customer service smile. “Alright, so tell me about this preparation you want to do.”

Eddie did not extend the same courtesy, and gave him nothing but bitchy side-eye in return. 

“You should know this stuff, Harrington, it’s survival 101. Basic shit!”

Steve looked skyward, praying for patience. “Okay, we’ve established that I'm an idiot. Why don’t we move on from that for now, and you just tell me what we should be doing?” He was proud of himself for saying it very evenly, and with hopefully no indication of how irritated he truly was.

Eddie hummed, considering him for a moment. “Fine.” 

He grabbed Steve by the wrist and pulled him towards the back door, pointing through the glass. “All that shit out there? The chairs, the table, the goddamned potted plants? Projectiles, all of them. They need to get put away in a shed or secured or something.”

Steve blinked.

That. 

That made perfect sense. 

Maybe he was an idiot. He hadn’t even thought about it. All he had done in anticipation of the storm was to stock the fridge with beer. Eddie seemed to see Steve come to the realization, and his frosty demeanor thawed slightly.

“Why don’t you take care of the outside and I'll start filling the bathtubs with water. Do you have any buckets?” 

“In the garage, under the workbench. What’s that for?” He was genuinely curious now.

“If the power goes out, so does your water pump.” Eddie began, matter-of-factly. “You fill the bathtubs so you have some water to wash with and flush toilets. That’s what the buckets are for, easiest way to top up the toilet tank. Speaking of water, we’ll want to fill some pitchers or something from the sink too, for drinking or cooking.”

“Okay. Thanks, um, for explaining all of that.”

Eddie gave him a thin-lipped smile and curt nod before setting off to start his tasks. 

-

They did have a shed, which was mostly empty, Steve came to find. It didn’t take him long to put every loose item from around the outside of the house away. Clouds started rolling in as he finished up, and there was a bit of wind stirring, but nothing crazy yet. Satisfied that he’d done an adequate enough job, he went back in to see how Eddie was making out. 

Steve had to give it to the guy, he was not shy. The kitchen looked ransacked. Every drawer and cabinet was wide open. The countertops were littered with random candles of every shape and size, lighters, a few books of matches, batteries, two flashlights, and several large plastic containers which Eddie was already in the process of filling with water and placing in the freezer. 

He stared wide-eyed at the display, a little in awe of it. He wasn’t used to being ready for the bad things. Usually disaster struck first, and then Steve scrambled to keep everyone safe. He liked the idea that, at least in this particular scenario, there was something he could do to prevent problems instead of struggling to solve them later. 

Eddie finally noticed him and followed his line of sight around the room. He grimaced, looking bashful for the first time. “Sorry, I just..”

“It’s fine, really. Thank you for doing all this.” Steve said, wearing his true smile for the first time. He walked around the room, closing the various doors as he contemplated what to make for dinner. Eddie’s eyes tracked him the whole time, like he was waiting for Steve to snap at him.

He pretended not to notice and dug into the fridge. The decision about food was made easy when he noticed the steaks he had taken out to thaw sitting on a shelf. He’d been too tired to cook after his shift the night before, opting instead to shove a handful of pretzels into his mouth and collapse in front of the T.V.

Steve took the plate of meat out and set it on the counter along with two beers. He popped the tops off the bottles and handed one to Eddie who accepted it with a blank stare.

He pulled the big cast iron pan off the rack and placed it on a burner to start heating up while he gathered the rest of his ingredients. He lined up the butter and herbs to the side, so they’d be ready when he was. There were still a few pre-cooked potatoes left over from earlier in the week, so he got those out as well and started a second pan on the stove to warm them up. He didn’t feel like fussing with a vegetable so…

“Okay, what the fuck is happening right now?!” Eddie snapped, interrupting Steve’s train of thought.

“Hmm?” Steve hummed, beer bottle pressed against his lips.

Eddie gestured in his general direction, as if it was obvious.

“Um, cooking? Shit, do you not eat red meat? I should have asked, I can figure something else out if..”

“Cut the crap, Harrington!” Eddie shouted. “I bossed you around, made a huge mess in your kitchen, hell, I've been outright rude to you since the moment I walked through the door and you haven't said jack about it! You thanked me, twice! What gives? Why are you being so nice? You’re supposed to be an asshole!”

“Oh. I’m not.. I mean, I'm trying not to be that guy anymore.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes. “Even if that were true, like I said, I know I've been a dick. You’d be well within the rules of polite society, or whatever the fuck, to call me out on it.”

“Honestly, man, I know you’re in kind of a weird situation being here, and I was just trying to give you a break.”

“Oh.” 

Eddie was quiet and still for a long moment before abruptly upending his beer, drinking it all in one go before immediately swapping it for a full one. 

Steve snorted. “You okay?”

“Fine, just, y’know, having my entire world view turned upside down. Not something I wanna deal with sober.”

Steve laughed a little harder than the situation probably deserved, but Eddie had, albeit inadvertently, made the most ironic choice of words. If the guy only knew.

Eddie pulled himself up to sit on the counter, watching intently as Steve tossed their steaks into the now screaming hot pan. 

“Where'd you learn to cook?”  Eddie asked. The, be cause didn’t your rich-boy mommy always cook for you , went unsaid. The other boy’s version of being nice, Steve assumed.

“Trial and error mostly, and don’t tell anyone, but I watch a lot of Julia Child reruns.” Steve grinned and threw a wink over his shoulder.

Eddie sucked in a small breath and his cheeks turned the most adorable shade of pink. It reminded Steve of how the girls at school used to look when he’d flirt, before he’d lost his touch anyway. Wait, why was he thinking the word adorable in the same sentence as Eddie Munson? 

Steve shook himself and turned his attention back to the stove, concentrating on not overcooking anything, instead of trying to figure out why he was suddenly so nervous.

-

As they sat at the dining table and ate together, Steve kept having the strangest feeling that this was a little like a first date. He didn’t know what was wrong with him today. This was Eddie Munson, he barely knew the guy, and they did not like each other. Except, maybe now they were getting over that? Also, Eddie was a guy, and although Robin coming out to him earlier this summer had opened his eyes more to the possibility that some people weren’t straight, he just didn’t see that for himself. 

“So, how did King Steve wind up tethered to a gaggle of middle schoolers anyway?”

“Former King.” Steve corrected, but not unkindly. “Babysitting, sort of. Not that they need that anymore but, yeah.”

“Why’d you stick around?”

Steve shrugged “They’re good kids. Dustin’s like a little brother to me.”

Eddie chuckled. “I get that. There’s just something about him that makes you want to take care of him.”

“I know right!? It’s the eyes or something, like he’s a lost puppy.”

“Oh he would hate that comparison. You’re not wrong though.” Eddie agreed, pointing at Steve with his fork.

“How are they handling being freshman? I remember it being rough even for me and I wasn't..” Steve cut himself off, realizing too late that he was about to put his foot in his mouth.

“A nerd?” Eddie finished for him with a raised eyebrow. 

Steve winced. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, Harrington, we know what we are.” Eddie grinned. “I think your boys are doing alright, for what it’s worth I'm keeping an eye on them.”

Steve smiled, it was worth a lot actually. The more he got to know Eddie, the gladder he was that the kids had found him. 

“You said boys, does that mean Lucas wasn’t able to get Max to join your game?” Steve asked.

“Is that the angry red-head he’s always pining over?”

“That would be the one.”

Eddie frowned. “No, she’s not in Hellfire, but she is my neighbor. Is Max one of your kids too?”

“Not that she’d ever admit it but, yea. She’s had a rough couple months. You remember Billy Hargrove?”

“Of course I remember that cocky prick. Not to speak ill of the dead or anything. why?”

“He was Max’s step brother.” Steve explained. “They didn’t like each other much, so it’s complicated, but I’ve been worried about her.”

“Damn. That’s tough. I’ll see what I can do to look out for her around the trailer park.”

“Thanks.”

-

By the time they finished up dinner it had started raining, and the wind was really picking up speed. Steve could feel himself getting tense. It didn’t matter that he had faced far scarier things than this, he still had to keep reminding himself that it would be okay. He was an adult now and he wasn’t alone.

He was pretty sure Eddie was having some of the same anxiety and was just trying to hide it. What they needed was a distraction. They might as well make use of the electricity while they still had it. 

“I brought a few movies home from work, they’re in a bag by the front door. You wanna pick something and I'll grab a couple more beers?” Steve asked, as he cleared their plates. 

Eddie groaned. “Fine, but there’d better be something besides Fast Times or The Breakfast Club.”

“Okay first of all, The Breakfast Club just came out on tape, it’ll be weeks before I can get my hands on it, and what’s wrong with Fast Times?! It’s a classic!”

Eddie just shook his head and went off in search of the bag. 

They met back up in the living room a few minutes later. Eddie was pulling videos out of the bag, a stunned look on his face. 

“Okay, I can admit that maybe you don’t have completely abysmal taste in movies. I mean, Footloose isn’t exactly my thing, but who can resist Kevin Bacon? And all three Star Wars? Steve, you're practically begging me to have a marathon and I can't resist.”

“I’ve actually only seen the one, but I liked it a lot.” Steve admitted. “Dustin’s been on me to watch them all, so I figured this was as good a time as any, at least until the power goes out.”

“It pains me to ask, but which one have you seen? Please don’t say..”

“The one with the teddy bears!” Steve said gleefully, knowing exactly what he was doing.

Eddie raked a hand over his face. “Forget everything I said before, you are the absolute worst.”

Steve tossed a pillow at him. Eddie fell dramatically off the couch and the two of them burst into giggles like children. A warmth started to grow in Steve’s chest. Maybe Dustin was right, maybe he would come out of this with a friend. 

They made it through the first movie and another six pack before Steve called for a break. The storm was now fully raging outside, the wind strong enough to rattle the windows and the T.V. was no longer providing enough distraction. Eddie agreed and started looking through the board games hidden in a cabinet next to the entertainment center. 

“This is the one!” Eddie exclaimed triumphantly, returning to the couch with his choice.

“Battleship?” Steve questioned.

“What’s wrong with Battleship?!”

“Nothing at all. I was expecting you to make me play scrabble or something I would be equally terrible at.”

Eddie beamed. “This is way more fun, especially if you provide your own sound effects.”

They took a few minutes to place their boats. True to form, Eddie made a big show out of ensuring that Steve didn’t peek, placing a half folded checkerboard on the table between them as a privacy screen. Although Steve was pretty sure he only did it to make him laugh. 

After a few misses (both of them), and a hit (Steve), Eddie became unusually quiet. Since they had broken the ice in the kitchen, he had been keeping up a pretty regular stream of chatter, even during the movie, peppering in fun facts and trivia. Which, come to think of it, usually bothers Steve when Dustin does it, but for some reason with Eddie he didn’t seem to mind.

He was about to ask if anything was wrong, when Eddie finally spoke up.

“Hey, um, I just wanted to thank you for letting me stay here. Sorry, I should have said that hours ago, but I was too busy being a jerk.”

“It’s fine. You had every reason to think I was still the same asshole I used to be.”

“It’s not that, well, it was a little bit that, but also - I don’t know if you remember ‘79? I had just moved here to live with my uncle Wayne not long before, and he got stuck at work when the storm hit. He couldn’t even call to tell me what was going on because the phone lines were knocked out almost right away. I know it was scary for a lot of people but being in a shitty fragile trailer for it, and all alone, as a kid? It was fucking terrifying. So, thanks.”

Steve felt his eyes well up a bit, imagining little 13 year old Eddie all the way across town from 12 year old Steve, completely unknown to each other, but sharing such a similar experience nonetheless. Without thinking, he placed his hand over Eddie’s where it sat on the table, and squeezed. 

“I remember. My parents were away then too, like they are now. The wind was so loud, sometimes it would whistle through the attic. I remember thinking it sounded like there were ghosts having a party up there. I hid in my closet with a toy flashlight the whole night. Believe me when I say, I'm glad you’re here.”

It was Steve’s turn to blush for once when he realized their hands were still touching. He took his hand back slowly and cleared his throat.  Eddie did the same, hands twisting together to play with his rings.

“I think that’s why I was so intense earlier. When Wayne finally got home and saw how freaked out I was, he took the time to explain what to do if it ever happened again. I guess I really latched onto that lesson.”

Thunder cracked suddenly and loudly in the distance, making both of them jump, and breaking whatever somber spell had fallen over them with a fit of nervous laughter.

For over an hour they went round after round, as the rain continued to beat against the windows, and Steve couldn’t believe how much fun he was having playing a dumb kids game. While they did, Eddie told him about how he’d met the boys on the first day of school. How he’d noticed Dustin first, because of his Weird Al t-shirt, the one Steve had tried to talk him out of but the kid insisted was cool. The way he knew instantly that he would be taking him and the others under his wing. 

Steve shared too, though he had to skirt the truth quite a bit. He talked about showing up at Nancy’s with flowers ready to apologize for something he didn’t even do, when he got cut off by Dustin and roped into looking for his missing cat. 

“It was all downhill from there. Suddenly I'm chauffeuring 6 kids to the arcade every Saturday and giving hair tips before the snow ball dance.”

“No shit? That kid really must be something if ‘the hair’ was willing to give up his secrets.”

One minute they were laughing and sharing a smile over the game board, and the next, the lights blinked, sending Steve hurtling straight back to that night in the Byers living room, the first time he’d been forced to fight for his life. 

Steve froze, unable to reconcile the reality in front of him and his memories for a brief moment. The lights flickered a few more times and he snapped back to the present, rushing, not to the kitchen where all the candles and flashlights were (where Eddie went), but to the front door where he kept his nail bat hidden in an umbrella stand. He made it back to the living room, heart pounding and breath coming in short gasps, at the same time Eddie did. The other boy’s arms were full of candles and the two flashlights. Their eyes met across the small space for only a second before the lights finally went out for good.

-

The next thing Steve was aware of was Eddie’s voice trying to talk him down from what he slowly realized was a panic attack.

“You need to relax, Steve, you're hyperventilating. Take a deep breath. Come on, breathe with me slow, in and out.” Eddie spoke from a few feet away, hands out in front of him, as if he felt the need to show they were empty. Steve didn’t understand, but he did his best to follow the directions, finding it difficult to stay focused.

Eddie’s gaze kept flicking from Steve’s face to his right hand, and back again. He looked worried. Steve didn’t like that, he preferred it when the other boy smiled at him. He followed the path of Eddie's eyes when he could, and finally realized the problem.

He dropped the bat instantly and stepped away from it, wrapping his arms tightly around himself as he once again tried to breathe normally. 

Eddie approached then, using gentle hands to guide Steve back to the couch. He must have finally felt safe now that Steve had dropped his literal weapon!! Oh god, what the fuck had he been thinking? The more he leveled out the more embarrassed he felt. How was he ever going to explain this? Eddie must think he’s a total psychopath now.

The room around them glowed with the light of a dozen or more candles. When had Eddie managed that? Steve couldn’t remember.

When he finally caught his breath and the shaking in his body had subsided, Steve dropped his head into his hands. Everything was fine, everyone was fine. He shoved down the need to race upstairs and find the walkie talkie Dustin had given him.

“Mind telling me what that was all about?” Eddie finally asked.

“Nothing!” Steve snapped, immediately regretting it.

“See, Harrington, here’s the thing. People don’t usually react that way to lights blinking and shit. Normally, I'd let the lie go, because we don’t exactly know each other that well, but, explain to me why I saw Dustin, Mike, and Lucas react almost the same goddamn way when the lights were on the fritz at the school last week? Those three were so on edge that day, I thought they were gonna piss themselves when their characters stumbled across a demogorgon.”

At the mention of the monster he had just been thinking about, Steve snapped his head up to look at Eddie. He expected to find annoyance, or even anger on the other boy’s face, but all he saw was concern. Steve hadn’t known about the incident at school, none of the kids told him. He assumed they were coping better than he was, that maybe because they were so young they were able to bounce back, but it sounds like they have all just been pretending too.

He didn’t realize he was crying silent tears until Eddie laid a hand on his shoulder. At the contact, the dam broke, and a sob was torn from Steve's chest. He felt, more than saw, Eddie's arms wrap around him, holding him tight, and sagged into the embrace. He’s only ever let it all out like this with Robin, and that was different. She’d been there with him in the trenches, at least this last time. She understood. Eddie didn’t even know him before today, not really, but still he was there and really seemed to care. Steve wasn’t used to that.

“What happened to all of you?” Eddie asked, whispering the question into his hair. 

Even if he wanted to, Steve couldn't tell him. They signed paperwork, threats were made. Though, did he really need to be worried about that still? The lab didn’t have much of a presence in Hawkins anymore, and after Joyce blew up the gate at Starcourt, it seemed like this whole Upside-Down mess might finally be done for good. 

Steve realized with a start that he’s trying to talk himself into it, he wants to tell Eddie, but he’s so scared. It’s not even about the NDA’s anymore, but about opening himself up to another person and being rejected for it. He doesn’t know why he's comparing this tentative friendship with Eddie to when he dated Nancy. It’s not the same, of course it’s not, but still, he remembers how refusing to talk about what happened, how pretending everything was okay, was a big part of what ruined their relationship, and he doesn’t want that to happen here. Still, he hesitated.

“We’re not supposed to talk about it.” Steve answered, pulling back from the hug, though he didn’t really want to.

“You may not know this about me, Harrington, but I'm pretty good at keeping secrets.”

“I think, I would actually really like to talk about it if I could. The only people I have now are the kids, but it feels wrong to burden them with that. I mean, I have Robin but..”

“Buckley too?”

“Yea.” 

“Is that why you two are attached at the hip all of the sudden? Some kind of trauma bond?”

Steve nodded, keeping his mouth firmly closed. It was taking everything he had not to spill his guts when he looked into the other boy’s deep brown eyes. How was Eddie having this effect on him? 

Eddie considered him for a long time before finally nodding to himself and blowing out a long breath. “I can’t believe I'm going to offer this, but what if I tell you something of mine, one of my secrets, first. Then you’ll have leverage or whatever, to prove I won't tell anyone what you tell me?”

Honestly, Steve was more concerned about Eddie not believing him than about him blabbing, but it’s too good an offer to refuse, and now he’s desperate to know what Eddie's secret is.

“Ok.”

“Now, I’m only telling you this because if you are as close to Buckley as I think you are, you’ll be cool with it. But if it's not.. cool, please just dont tell anyone, ok? You can kick me out or whatever, but I'm not really looking to get murdered before my 21st birthday." Eddie looked nervous suddenly, and it filled Steve with guilt. He should stop him, tell him he doesn’t have to say this, whatever it is.

“I’m gay.” Eddie tossed it out there and very clearly seemed to be bracing himself for the worst.

Steve gaped at first, but pulled himself together quickly, folding his arms around Eddie the same way he had just done for him. “That’s…really great, man. Thank you for telling me.”

Eddie relaxed in his hold, and Steve decided he wouldn't let go first.

Eventually, Eddie pulled back with a smirk. “So, it's great, huh?”

Steve rolled his eyes, but he knew if there was more light in the room Eddie would be able to see that he was blushing furiously. 

“I can’t believe you told me that just to make me feel comfortable sharing. I don’t know what to say.” Steve admitted.

Eddie shrugged. “I figured it was a big enough thing that you would accept it in return for telling me what your deal is. Besides, I was pretty sure I could trust you.”

“You can.” Steve quickly assured him. 

“So, tell me.”

Steve’s stomach dropped. He’d never given the whole spiel alone before, or really at all. After her baptism by fire, he’d slowly told Robin about their previous battles in bits and pieces, whenever they shared a sleepless night, and even then, Dustin had come along later and filled in some of the gaps.

“You might not believe me.” It probably sounded like bullshit, or like he was trying to get out of their agreement, but Steve had to say it.

Eddie was not deterred. “Try me.”

There’s nowhere to start but the beginning, Steve thought, and took a deep breath.

“Do you remember when Will Byers went missing a couple years ago?”

“Of course. The boys talk about him almost as much as they talk about you. He moved to California right?”

“Yeah. We’ll get to that, but there's a lot to cover before that part of the story.”

Eddie leaned back into the couch, getting comfortable and waving a hand to encourage Steve to carry on. 

He began in fits and starts, and confused the timeline at least once when he described the events of 1983, but the longer he spoke the easier it came. Eddie was attentive, but didn’t ask any questions, and didn't interrupt until he mentioned the fight with Billy Hargrove when he defended Lucas, and even then he only gasped. Eddie patiently let Steve get his story out however he needed to. When he got to Starcourt, and the torture he endured at the hands of the Russians, he heard Eddie sniffle and looked up to see tears shining in the other boy’s eyes. Eddie reached out for Steve's hand, and didn't let go.

“El took it really hard. Hopper had really just become her dad and then she lost him. Joyce took her in and moved the four of them to California for a fresh start. It’s hard to have them so far away, for the kids especially, but I know Nancy misses Jonathan too. I don’t blame her though, Joyce, she's doing what she can to protect her kids and I can respect that. At this point, I'm just trying to figure out how to live again, for the third time, now that it’s all over.”

When Steve was finally done, Eddie still remained silent. It made him squirm, desperate to know what he was thinking.

“So, on a scale of 1-10, how much of that did you believe?” Steve asked when he couldn't take it anymore.

“Every word.” Eddie said, sounding completely serious.

“What?!”

Eddie turned more fully to face him and took Steve’s other hand, now holding both of them, in both of his. “Steve, you’re traumatized enough that I would have probably believed if for that alone, but honestly the dead give away was the detail. No offense, but I don't believe you are creative enough to have made all of that up, and all the D&D references? There's no way you know that much about the game. No way.”

Steve cracked a smile. “Oh yeah? Is that all?”

Eddie returned the smile but his eyes looked sad. “I remember all those times you got your pretty face bashed in, Harrington. This.. explanation, almost makes more sense than the rumors. Jesus, you’re still carrying some evidence of what was apparently Russian fucking torture. I..”

Steve surged forward abruptly, barreling into him. “Thank you for believing me.”

Eddie laughed, and they were pressed so close together that Steve could feel the low rumble of it in his chest. It made him shiver. 

“Henderson is going to be so pissed that I told you.” Steve joked.

“He doesn't have to know that you told me. I was serious before, I can keep a secret.”

Steve shook his head. “It might be good for them to have another adult around who knows. We’re awfully short of them these days.”

“And you're sure it’s…over?”

“Pretty sure, yeah. El doesn’t have her powers anymore, so she can’t open a gate, the lab is gone, and we destroyed the one at Starcourt so…”

Comically, the lights that had been off for over two hours chose that exact moment to flicker on and then off again.

“Well, I'm never going to sleep again.” Eddie declared.

“Welcome to the club, Munson.”

-

They spent the rest of the night lying together on the couch quietly listening to the wind and the rain. For the first time for Steve, and he suspects for Eddie also, the sound was soothing and not fear-inducing. Their hands had remained clasped long after they were done talking, and as the hour got late, and they sunk further into the couch together, their arms and legs became intertwined too. 

At some point, Steve realized Eddie fell asleep. He let himself gaze at the other boy in a way he never would have allowed himself if he was being watched. He looked so pretty like that in the candlelight, face relaxed. Very gently so as not to wake him, Steve pushed a bit of his hair back, admiring the way Eddie's long dark eyelashes brushed his cheek. Something seized in his chest and Steve sucked in a sharp breath. He’s never looked at a guy like this before, never felt this way about another boy. He should probably be freaking out about that a little more than he was, right?

He paused to look inside himself, and tried to drudge up the panic he thought he should feel in this moment, but found very little. He’s liked a lot of people in his life, and felt like he could always find something to love about a person, something beautiful or interesting. It didn’t matter if they were a girl or a boy. He just always assumed when he liked a boy it was in a friendly way. Maybe he was wrong.

He smiled to himself, realizing that Robin was going to be so mad that he’s accepted this new thing about himself so readily and completely without her assistance. Steve looked down again and found Eddie still fast asleep. He leaned down to press the lightest kiss on his forehead, before carefully extracting himself from the couch to blow the candles out. He didn’t want to move but it was too dangerous to fall asleep with them lit. When it was done, he didn’t even consider going up to his bedroom, instead he curled back up beside Eddie on the couch and let out a contented sigh.

And maybe the peace he felt in this moment was temporary, maybe he’ll panic about it later when he does tell Robin what he’s realized, but for right now he’s just happy to lay there, gazing into the face of the pretty boy who, in the course of one evening, had wrapped himself tightly around Steve's heart.

Part 2

#lexssummerfanworkschallenge #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #dustin henderson #stranger things #steve x eddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #steddie

[autisticempathydaemon]

Hello! Are you hyperfixated on RedactedAudio?

Do you want (need) to know who to follow to cultivate your dashboard and feed your gremlin brain good, good boyfriend roleplay content?

Cool, I’ve got you, and I’ve got hyperlinks. Buckle up.

(Note: This is by no means a comprehensive, objective, or complete list. I've only been in the fandom for six months or so. I have biases and favorites and limited time. I hope to update this list periodically, and if you feel I've missed someone, please feel free to reblog with your additions! I just would have loved a guide like this when I got into the fandom back in August and wanted to spread some positivity~!)

Fanfiction:

@angelnoodlesoup: she/her

Sophie is just one of the sweetest David stans that's ever existed who writes, like, the sweetest things about him. Her posts are just going to make you feel warm, fluffy, soft things in your heart area; give into the sweetness. Highlights: Sophie writes this adorable timestamp series of vignettes exploring Davey and Angel's day, but I'm particularly attacked to their David/Angel neighbors to lovers AU~

@arrowfleur

I was actually going to put Max in the visual content portion of this post, because they post delightful Redacted edits on Tiktok (under the same username, highly recommend~), but then they made a uquiz that gave me an existential crisis, so here we are. Highlights: This quiz sent my whole server for a loop and has made me reconsider my relationship with Lovely as a character and kin; it's a great time.

@batch-of-pengwings: robin/bird, she/her

Robin, an absolute sweetheart who makes all the fun ask games that keep the community interconnected and thinking and talking which is just really sweet and fun in the best way. Highlights: The Winter Wonderland game is the one who went around most recently, and it’s so fun to engage with the fandom and discuss who we think is stupid enough to get their tongues stuck on a telephone poll~

@bicyclepainting: they/them

Clover, the fandom's resident Smartass, doing the lord's work and reminding us all how fucking smoochable Aaron is on a regular basis on top of being the coolest astrology nerd don't give them your birth chart you will be perceived /lh Highlights: No one is doing Aaron/Smartass like they are; like, read and absorb the delicious, domestic delight that is them. I also recommend their deep dives into the Redacted bois signs, if you're into that; they're very thorough and fun to read!

@cashandprizes: she/they

My Lexi, my queerplatonic soulmate… She is on a quest to dissect and critique fandom brick by philosophical brick, and I both love her and fear her in equal measure. (That’s a lie, I love her infinitely, more than anything, but she is in fact incredibly intelligent and intimidating.) Highlights: Come for the scathing insights into gray-morality and DD:DNE’s place in fiction, stay for the stripper!Gavin fic they’re working on and their sequel to Lasko’s SexTember audio because she really wanted to make him cry

@ejunkiet: she/her

EJ, the very first of my Redacted loves~ Not only is EJ an endless well of kindness and positivity, but she also writes fucking bomb ass everything. You get angst, you get smut, you get fluff- We stan a multitalented, ace queen. (She also writes really cute CastleAudios fanfiction and original stuff as a cherry on top.) Highlights: EJ writes just some of my favorite David/Angel smut; she captures Angel's little shit nature perfectly. She's also written the sweetest thing of Damien meeting Huxley's moms that I can't get enough of~

@dominimoonbeam: she/her

Domini, truly one of the pillars of the fandom. I don't know what'd we'd be without her fantastic fics or her original novellas or her fantastic, beautiful, rarepair-creating brain. Highlights: God, there's too many to choose from! There's the Sam/Darlin fake dating AU that has us all gripped by the proverbial balls. There's the David/Darlin tattoo shop AU that has me frothing at the mouth because tattoo artists are stinkin hot. That's not even getting into their Cam/William fic, because god, that is such a good rarepair. We love two immortals finding love with one another, we really do. My personal favorite has got to be their Huxley/Darlin piece though, because Darlin gets to be cute and awkward and so, so loved in it.

@frenchiefitzhere: she/her

Frenchie, the fandom's unofficial (but basically official) Marie Greer, not only a gorgeous writer but also the creator of the most fantastical and unique fansongs (who makes original audio content to boot~) Highlights: We would be nowhere as a fandom without the Marie/Colm greer backstory and saga or her audios as the Greer Matriarch herself, but personally? Her Imperium!Lasko/Adam fic kind of changed my life, I'm kind of obsessed with it.

@friendlyfaded: he/him

Miles, the king and professor of the rarepairs! Beware, you will leave his blog wishing for fics for a ship that doesn’t actually exist yet. It’s unavoidable when you read the careful, creative, thoughtful way he considers seemingly silly pairings and makes them gorgeous. Highlights: I recommend his whole rarepairs with prof tag for a snack and his Sweetheart/Lasko/Milo fic for a whole meal~

@gingerbreadmonsters: she/her

Ginger, literally one of the sweetest, friendliest people in the entire Internet. I cannot adequately describe the absolute magnificent poetry of Ginger's prose, so you just have to read it for yourself. You will not be disappointed. Highlights: Ginger's Milo/Sweetheart series is for if you're feeling sweet, and her Vincent/Lovely/Gavin/Freelancer foursome fic is if you're feeling spicy~ Or if you're like me and are longing for an character we'll never see again, you can read her gorgeous, Doctor Who-inspired look in Marcus's mind.

@glassbearclock: she/her

Beans, also known as the best Milo/Sweetheart writer in the game. Their banter is taken from the mouth of god and first name Erik last name Redacted himself, and you could not convince me otherwise. Highlights: I’m a big fan of her sweet, wholesome, Jewish!Milo sick fic, but aYO her Milo/Sweetheart first date fic is so good y’all like goddamn Sweetheart phases through their door and makes Milo faceplant it on accident man that shit is so good

@horrorscoupes: they/he

My beautiful, darling Lotus, my gloriously deranged brother in arms (affectionate). The way they write each and every d(a)emons is just so -chef kiss-. Highlights: I think about their Regulus/Doll fic, like, literally every day, it's just yummy and depraved. Though, for a true taste of genius, for a galaxy brain treat, you've got to read his Shark!Vega/Pet masterpiece.

@k9rage: he/xi

My beloved Calico, our helpful Image Description fairy. He is just so cool and writes the most glorious smut like the world has ever seen. As of publishing, he's writing a Vega/Lasko street racing AU that's gonna be just smoke ash cinder fire hot. Highlights: You need to read his Damien/Gavin waxplay fic; like, this changed my life, I think about it daily. Ooh, AND his Aaron/SmartAss/Gavin threesome fic, because he didn't do all that thinking and imagining for us to not appreciate it. I'm also reccing @calicostorms, his other blog and spotify, so you can get at his stellar Redacted character playlists!

@lovelylonerliterature: 

Lovely, absolute stand-out writer in the fandom! Would you believe they have a whole (as of posting) 95 works for the RedactedASMR fandom on AO3? There’s <2000 fics, which makes Lovely a whole five percent of the fanfiction on their own. That’s wild and so hella cool. Highlights: Literally everything they write. Explore their extremely well done masterlist, it’s beautifully put together, and you’ll find something you love. (I’m particularly fond of the Darlin/Vega fic they wrote based off of one of FriendlyFaded’s posts~)

@romirola: she/her

Dr. Romi, the one and the only and one of the legitimate sweetest goddamn people that has ever existed. You've never met a more polite, darling person in all your days. How did she write all these thousands of words of art while getting a doctorate? God, I wish I knew... if only we could also be so beautiful and wonderful and accomplished. Highlights: You haven't existed until you've read her Milo/Sweetheart Tangled AU; like, what are you doing here? GO. (I also deeply recommend her found family Shaw Pack + Sam fic, if you're looking for something that's still ongoing!)

@sealriously-sealrious: they/them

Chrys who writes- no contest I think we can all agree- the best Huxley that this fandom has ever seen. He is just so well-explored and so multifaceted, just the top-tier himbo content we all need and deserve. Highlights: Huxley and Freelancer at the aquarium, Huxley and Freelancer going camping, sfw, nsfw, whatever you want, we've GOT. (There's even some imperium!Huxley, if you're so inclined >:))

@starlitangels: she/her

Starlit, another absolute powerhouse of the fandom. Just look at this masterlist, I think there’s something here for literally every character. That’s what babes call RANGE. Highlights: The way they explore the Shaw pack is so fun; I’d highly recommend her fic exploring Gabe and his backstory or her fic exploring the Shaw’s future pups~!

@taelonsamada: she/her

A pillar- or should I say fence post?- of the fandom and just an utter peach. Always has a nice word to say and says the best nice words about Sam and Darlin- Highlights: Her nsfw Geordi/Cutie fic holds a special place in my heart (the blindfold? the gag? Be still my beating heart), but you haven’t lived until you’ve read her Shaw-centric Ranch AU~!

@teasandcardigans: she/her

Mads, another lovely creator that could be in either section of this post- that's how talented she is! Not only is she a lovely writer but she also designs the most fun Redacted stickers! Also, she's got the only Redacted fan tiktok that Erik has confirmed seen and liked, can't not mention that it's so cool Highlights: Honestly, there's too many to mention! A really popular of hers is a "What If" echo-esque reimagining of everyone's stories which is so fun, and my personal, biased favorite is her Alexis & Gavin fic hear me OUT-

@the-sugar-crash

Cait, out here doing the most and the best. They’ve run the Redacted Winter Gift Exchange for the past two years, connecting blogs who might have never spoken to each other, inspiring creativity, and spreading holiday cheer~ Highlights: I recommend taking a look-see through the “Redacted 2022 Winter Gift Exchange” tag- much thanks to Cait for making it possible- to consider if you’d like to join next year! Until then, there’s a compilation of their cute headcanon posts to inspire you!

@zozo-01: she/her

Zo, one of the sweetest people in the fandom~ Not only is she a fantastic writer, but she is also one of the friendliest people in the space! Constantly excited and supportive and positive and a joy to follow and befriend. Highlights: Her Sam/Darlin Deity AU is going to change the world and break some hearts, I just know it. (Just like her Alexis and Darlin meeting fic broke mine-) If you're not up to getting your heart broken and just want a friend, I recommend asking her about her Powerpoint of Bollywood scenes that could be Sam/Darlin moments~!

Fanart:

@andr0leda: she/they

Androleda’s art is so gorgeous in that most of them are uncolored or working with a smaller palette, and it just makes those colors stand out and the line work all the more elegant. Highlights: Their wolf!Darlin piece got so popular, and you can see why! It looks like the cover of a really cool YA fantasy novel. Also, her Sam/Darlin art just melts the heart- the gentle hand, the key around the neck-!

@artbykays

Kays, a fantastic artist who plays around with the prettiest, brightest colors and has the prettiest (hottest) fem listeners. They also have super fun Redacted playlists! Highlights: Their Sweetheart, Valentina, is kind of smokin hot, I mean look at her, but also good lord, have you seen their Warden like lock me up anytime hello-

@belovedbow

Bow’s art just makes me so soft and gooey inside I dunno. Their art is so pretty, and they always have the most expressive faces. Not to mention the colors- like, Bow uses the simplest but most emotionally evocative shades of pinks and blues that make me inexplicably feel things, and I love it. Highlights: Literally all their Davey/Angel is the sweetest, but I also have this deep fondness for their imp!FL and Vindemiator pieces, because look at these deep, mournful blues, they’re beautiful!

@cascadiiing: they/them

Atlas creates the most beautiful, squishable, smoochable characters on top of being the most beautiful, squishable, smoochable (platonic) sweetie in existence~ they’re so sweet and friendly on top of being so talented at such a young age, and I would protect them with my life. Highlights: Their Sam kind of makes me so lovesick, I could barf- he’s just that pretty. Their Alexis/Christian art is fanart of my own fic, I’ll grant you, but it’s also so fucking pretty look at the dreamy colors and it MOVES-

@claracatlady

Where would we be without Clara, like honestly- What really stands out about their art is- other than the overwhelming talent- the obvious thought and joy that went into designing the outfits. Only the best from our resident fashion design student! Highlights: literally everything. If I must be specific, the David design pinned to their blog is utterly ahdhkakshdjsk, and I am particularly partial to their Alexis design, because I love my beautiful, possibly complex lady okay-

@fregget-frou : he/they

Mal has the prettiest Listeners; I’m lowkey in love with all of them~ I love the way he does such fluffy, voluminous hair, and I dunno, all their listener OC’s have this fashion model-esque glamour and posture about them that’s really attractive. Highlights: Of their listeners, Mal’s Angel has got to be my favorite. Look at this fluffy-haired cutie! Look at this menace! I would also propose to them, they’re gorgeous!

@gwenifred: she/her

Gwen draws the most gorgeous, swoon-worthy Huxleys and is just a big sweetpea to boot. Her and Pali sharing OC’s and art trades here and on Twitter is a testament to how friendly and sweet the fandom can be! Highlights: Everything she draws is gorgeous, but you haven’t lived until you’ve seen her animation work!

@ice-palace-art: They/It/He/Dae

Darby has some of the most beautiful designs, I can hardly stand it. He creates the most gorgeous, realistically proportioned characters and listeners, and they’re just really smoochable okay let me live- Highlights: It has this one piece of Gavin and Lasko having a sleepover that fills me with the warm fuzzies every time I see it, and their Aaron design fills me with longing I am hopelessly in love with their dad-bodded Aaron.

@itsdaifuku: she/her

Y’all don’t even know the little happy stim storm Fuku’s art sets me on; like, all her art is so cute and joyful and somehow colorful even when it’s in black and white? It just gives the vibe of life and vibrancy constantly? How does she do that? Highlights: Literally, everything she draws is gorgeous and sweet, though her designs for the Shaws and their mates are so S-tier and so cute. (I’m also particularly fond of her designs for Love and Alexis, my favorite characters, I’m biased, sue me)

@mr-laveau: he/they

Laveau, my favorite Milo kinnie~ (Yeah, I said it out loud; I’m callin you out.) Charming, thoughtful, friendly, much more talented than they have any right to be when they’re also so funny and sweet, AND also writing at their other blog @bratty-telepath. You’ve never seen such a double threat. Highlights: Literally, everything he makes. All his designs are colorful and gorgeous and filled to the brim with deliberate, intentional details (though I am incredibly partial to their Alexis and Darlin designs and the parallels he included between them.)

@nais-doodles

Nai is a fucking blessing unto this fandom, and we are not worthy. You haven’t really lived, haven’t experienced all the pure, positive silliness that this hellsite has to offer until you experience Nai’s Redacted Actor AU. It’s pure serotonin, and we’re all here listening to Boyfriend ASMR, I know we could use it. Highlights: Other than said AU posts (which really are so fuckin good), have you seen their drawing of Vincent and Sam’s Monarchal ball? Ooh, and if you go to their tiktok under the same username, you can see some of the really cool dating sim they’re working on!

@nanowatzophina: any pronouns

Na’no is not only a must follow on tumblr, but I also highly recommend their tiktok if you wish to wade through the horrid cesspool of that app (I say with tiktok as one of my top social media sites- we have a codependent relationship) Their art is super cute and expressive, and I get massive gender envy from the way he draws hair and teeth. Highlights: Her aspec Freelancer is just so close to my heart; I adore Avery so deeply. Also, the way they draw imperium!Vega and Pet makes my heart fucking melt and want to jump out my chest- the size difference, my god

@obsessivedino: they/them

Mint’s contribution to the fandom cannot possibly be overstated. Their art style is just so clean and neat and with the cutest expressions, and I love their designs so much, especially for the d(a)emon bois I just ahhhhh Highlights: If you’ve joined the official unofficial Redacted Discord server, you’ve seen their adorable stickers reminding you to kick that ass or hydrate unless you want to die-drate, and you haven’t truly embraced life unless you’ve seen their two-year anniversary masterpiece. Ooh, or pocket caelum!

@palilious: she/her

There is no Redacted fandom or fandom list without Pali, and we’ve all accepted that. Her style is so uniquely and instantaneously recognizable as hers, and everyone adores it, including but not limited to GBA, Nomad, and Cardlin! Highlights: Literally everyone she draws is so pretty, though I have a soft spot for her Vincent or her Nomad drawings if you’re looking for more VAs to listen to!

@pearl-kite: she/they

Kirehn has the most huggable humans and the most awe-inspiring d(a)emons. The way she draws the d(a)emons with constellations worked into the designs and color palettes is just so gorgeous and purposeful and thoughtful. Highlights: Their Vega is so frightening but beautiful, you just can’t look away from him. I’m also particularly in love with their Darlin!

@queendread

Do y’all ever do this thing when you see an ethereally beautiful person and you have no words, all you can do is giggle like a vapid schoolgirl(gn)? That’s me with all of Anna’s paintings: no words, just awe. Highlights: I don’t even really like Gavin, okay, he’s not my type, but lord above, Anna’s Gavin is something else. Their Sam also has those Captain America, boy next door good looks I imagined, it’s like they took him right out of my daydreams.

@ryokoaoi : they/them

Ryo has the absolute cutest, most adorable art style, one can barely handle it! Everything they draw is just so pretty and so colorful and detailed and sweet. (Except the sad things, those are less sweet but gosh they’re still so pretty.) They also have this Magic Swap AU that they design that is so fun to read about! Highlights: Their swapped! Gavin and Avior designs are so fun, I adore them deeply, and if you need something to cheer you up, you can always depend on their DAMN pieces that always include a little invisible Caelum to bring you joy~!

@slushrottweiler: she-they

There is nothing like seeing Slush’s signature blue linework on your dashboard, it’s such a sweet treat- or spicy. There are also very good, very spicy treats. Her blog is a magnificent roulette wheel of blue surprises. Highlights: I love their Sam/Darlin stuff, especially this one because wowee them shoulderblades, but their HuxDami BA piece takes the cake.

@spookybeandoodle

Spooky has my whole heart and wallet and my other heart if I had one I fell in love with their rich color palettes and shading and Alexis right away and had to commission them. Could not recommend enough, they were a treasure to work with~ Highlights: I’m not biased- okay yes I am but not now their Alexis is fuckin smoking hot but also their Cam might be my favorite Cam look at that smile-!

@sri-rachaa: she/her

Rae is such a treasure to this fandom, we hardly deserve her. Her art is so ethereally pretty and delicate? The way she draws hair and noses and silhouettes- her line work is just phenomenal. Everything she creates is just a delight to look at. Highlights: The Southern Siblings AU is a gift, a treasure, a boon that cannot be ignored. I’m also a big fan of her Lovely OC who is ridiculously pretty~

@tankwolf : she/her

June has been posting fanart for only two months, but I’m already absolutely obsessed. I just find her monochrome character portraits so visually engaging and interesting. I would love so badly to be friends with her listener OC’s… Highlights: …or more than friends, because her Sweetheart is something else good lord. I would just love it if June could stop putting the hot people in crop tops please (but also don’t cause whoa)

@terrazaurio

All the fanart Terra creates is so bright and vivid and colorful and expressive, they’re really such a treat to see and experience. I’m a sucker for the colors they use, cause it makes my lizard brain all happy and go “shiny pretty happy.” Highlights: Everything they draw with the Shaw Pack is pure dopamine, like this one of the bois and their mates hanging by the pool. I am particularly attached to this piece from Milo’s HBS, because they’re so fucking in love, your honor, I love them.

@thefablefoxart : she/her

Angelina’s Redacted couple series is one of the truest delights of the fandom; like, they’re so colorful and cute and just adorably designed. I’m also deeply in love with the way she does hair. Everyone just has really fucking good looking hair, and I can’t get over it-Highlights: On top of the aforementioned couple series, I just want to bring attention to this adorable chibi Sam that she drew- it brings me so much serotonin- and their Darlin, Kai who I wish would just give me a shot okay I have a Southern accent too-

If you’re reading all the way here, I hope you found the post helpful and smiled while making your way through it! Or both! The RedactedAudio fandom is truly one of my favorite spaces on the internet; it’s so intimate and creative, and I’ve found some amazing, perfect friends here, so I hope you will too 💖

again playing around with the formatting please stop hurting me tumblr I’m trying to be nice

If you can see this, I love you, and you’re watching me try to format this post so tumblr doesn’t cut off the bottom of it please ignore the Android behind the emerald curtain go about your day

#redactedasmr #redactedverse #redacted asmr #redactedaudio #redacted audio #redacted

[paddockbunny]

Chapter Four

Summary: Turning up to the paddock had perhaps been one of the worst decisions you possibly could have made but at least you didn't let the evening go to waste. Now, after the events of that weekend you had to face the music…..and be saved when things didn’t go so well Pairing : Max Verstappen x Reader Rating :18+. Word Count: 5, 749 Trigger Warnings : IT'S BASICALLY ALL ANGST AND SMUT! NSFW, 18+, adult content, adult language, LOTS of Christian Horner in this chapter, PinV sex, protected sex, sad potentially triggering family dynamics Authors Note : Ah I really hope you guys like it now it's been turned into a fic, hope it doesn't disappoint! If you wish to be added (or removed) from the Tag List please DM me so I see it! Sending everyone love

You turned off the key to the ignition and a large exhale left your body. Of all the places in the world you could have been, here was the last place on earth you wanted to be. You took a cursory glace to the side of you, glimpsing fleetingly at the old fashioned farmhouse that now played host to your “family.” Every time you came back here to your father’s big sprawling estate equipped with its own stream for fishing, horse stables and fucking wine cellar even though no one could possibly drink that much wine, you couldn’t help but feel reminiscent. Not of the rather ostentatious abode your father and his family now resided but how much it reminded you of the somewhat humbler home you grew up in yourself when it was just the three of you, him, you and your mother. Hell, your childhood home would have paled in comparison to this palace. But at least you had some happy memories before Geraldine and the fame of his position in F1 went to your father’s head.

You grabbed Monty’s birthday present off the passenger seat of your car and took deep, steady inhale. Monty was the sole reason you were here. If it weren’t for keeping a promise to your little brother that you would come to his birthday party then you wouldn’t be anywhere near this place at all. Thing was immediately after leaving your hotel room in the early hours of the following morning - post celebratory all night fucking after his win – Max texted you and started hounding you about flying out and spending a few days with him in Monaco. And those texts he sent were very, very hard to resist. They always started innocently enough, claiming he just wanted to show you around but quickly they always descended into a familiar, smutty tone. You knew that if you had flown out to Monaco the only place you would be seeing would be Max Verstappen’s bedroom – and his shower, and his sofa, and his balcony and his kitchen counter top. Now you had gotten to know him better, you knew Max would want to be inside of you as much as he possibly could. And although the idea naturally excited you and aroused more than just your interest, you turned him down on grounds you were worried about how so much sex might affect his next performance (and of course upsetting little Monty by skipping his party). As you got out of the safety of your car you smiled while remembering the dick pic he sent you last night when he pleaded his case again for the umpteenth time. Your memory instantly recalling how desperate his purpling tip looked for some release and the veins that ran up and down his girthy shaft were fit for bursting. Cat like you practically licked your lips thinking about him being in your mouth. You couldn’t help imagining your tongue swirling around him, licking up and down his length and God, the sheer thought of taste of him was enough to get your panties damp. But as the gravel crunched underfoot while you walked up toward the doorway to your father and his new families home, you pushed the thought of Monaco, Max and his cock out of your mind.     

The place was awash with kids and their adults. From the kitchen you could see Geraldine was very much in charge, holding court amongst the parents while your father stood pretending to listen by her side. It was clear even just from inside that no expense had been spared on Monty’s fifth birthday. Trampolines, bouncy castles, balloon arches, the full fucking Instagrammable shebang. Watching the scene outside from behind the window, you could admit that it was hard for you not to feel a little bitter. You thought back to your birthday parties as a kid and could only recall one or two where your father was even present and even at that, you didn’t exactly have a party like this one. For you it was a few banners, paper hats and a customary Colin the Caterpillar cake. Not the lavish excessive parade of wealth Geri had managed to wrangle out of your notoriously tight fisted father. But then again you had to remind yourself that these were his “second chance children” and they’d be sure to get everything you never did, including his time and respect. You turned, ready to go out and make a fuss of your innocent brother when you caught sight of a bottle of opened champagne sitting ignored on a counter top. A few swigs for Dutch courage wouldn’t kill you – your father was probably still simmering about your paddock appearance after all.

“MONTY!” You shouted loudly, deliberately putting on a display of unwavering resilience. You spied him on the bouncy castle and held out your arms for him to come running into after he managed to get off. He squealed your name excitedly and ran as fast as his little legs could carry him. Regardless of what hurt you had felt in your life at the end of your fathers opinion and temper, you had to admit you did love this little adorable curly haired boy. He was so innocent and loving and you clamped your arms around him firmly when he leaped into your arms for a hug. You had missed all of his prior birthdays – due to Uni or just feeling plain unwelcome – so you were glad to make the appearance today just for him. He excitedly told you all of the presents he had gotten and who they were from before begging you to play them all with him because you were the “bestest” at knowing what to do and the sheer happiness in his little face made all of the worry in your body seem inconsequential. And then you felt a hand touch your shoulder and looked up to see Geri, smiling down at you.

“Thank-you.” She said instead of a hello, throwing her matchstick like arms around your body. “He’s been telling everyone his big sister was coming all day.” It made your heart swell but in the same passing moment you thought of how it felt like when you had been left devastated and crestfallen on so many of your own birthdays when your dad failed to make an appearance. “Would you like a slice of cake?” She smiled broadly and began leading you over toward where the adults were gathered. Geri had this peculiar knack of staring at you so intently with her blue eyes that you found yourself saying yes even if you meant no, probably how she managed to lure your dad away from your mum that was another hole down which you did not want to fucking spiral so followed her lead over toward the patio.

“Nice of you to come.” Your dad was clearly still in a mood with you and there was no way the rest of the parents here did not notice the cool manner in which he greeted you with. Somehow, you always felt five years old in his presence. Wanting to cling on to his leg and hide behind it like the shy child inside of you but also wanting to do or say something that would make him proud and boastful – the irony of which he had displayed toward the man you were friends with benefits with more than you yourself was not lost on you – but alas today would not be one of those days. “Anything for Monty.” “Not strictly true is it? He’s five now and you haven’t been to a single one of his birthdays before” He said it in his typical smartass voice he usually reserved for people he saw as opponents. Toto Wolff received this tone of voice from him on many occasions, of which you were utterly sure. You noticed how a few of the seated females at the table you two were standing behind turned and glanced at you. The looks simply read; “so that’s the eldest one?” & “I can’t believe he has an older daughter, especially one like that” which almost made you want to reach between them at the bottle of wine on the table and down it in front of them so they had their gossip. “Well…” You geared yourself up “I’m here this time, like he wished for.” Even when you were included you weren’t and felt like this was another one of your miscalculations.

After a while of uncomfortable silence between you and your dad, you noticed Geri heading back into the house and remembered the other reason that you had made such an effort to come today. You needed to ascertain exactly what Geri thought she knew about you and Max and take the right course of action. One course of said action you had decided was telling her she was imagining things, that Max was just being polite and her idea of something going on between the pair of you was a purely fictional fantasy from her side – gaslight her if you will. The other was to work out if (or perhaps when) she would tell your father and if she was going to deliberately ruin things for you. That would require more of your strength and acting skills. You would grudge giving her the satisfaction of begging because she would probably get high off the power she could wield over you in the moment, but you were enjoying things with Max too much to want it to stop so were prepared to swallow your pride and do what had to be done. You found her in the kitchen, unplugging her phone so she could no doubt post about the day all over her social media (as if people actually cared) and sort of cornered her.

“I was wondering if I could uh…have a word?” Why were you suddenly all nervous? It wasn’t because of her, nor the slightly awkward conversation that was about to take place, so maybe it was simply the thought of Max. “Is this about M.A.X?” She acted like a giddy 15 year-old schoolgirl as she relished in spelling out his name. An uneasy feeling descended upon your body when a dastardly smirk appeared across her face and you knew she was taking a lot of pleasure from this. Instinctively you made a simple glance to the side and noticed how close some people were to the door so tilted your head and motioned for her to follow you out of earshot into the dining room, where you perched on the edge of the table. “I don’t know what it is you think you…” “Know?” She finished the sentence for you and in that second you found her unreadable until her shoulders dropped and she smiled less villainously. She softly said your name and touched your arm. “I see the way the pair of you look at each other. That’s it.” In a few words your head started spinning. How did you look at each other? With complete wanton desire and utter desperation? Did pure carnal thoughts and lust paint itself all over both of your faces? Did everyone else see what she so evidently did? Your brain went into overdrive trying to decipher whatever the hell she meant so quickly that you almost missed the fact she was adding to it. “And then when you turned up in the paddock, well…. that was a very clear indication that something must have happened between you two. I thought maybe it might have just been in my mind; I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want my little plan of inviting you to the annual barbeque to result in you and Max…y’know…” She trailed off with a brow wiggle to infer she had been hoping to get you and Max together. “Anyway, then you had a headache and so did he and then I saw that wrapper on the floor when we came by and I just knew.”

“Was that why you came by that night? To find out if something was going on? To catch us at it or something?” You bit straight away; forgetting that she might have linked on to the last words leaving your lips and suddenly your heart rate skipped and you could feel it thundering away in your chest. “Actually, it wasn’t my idea to come. Believe it or not after the race when Max won, your dad felt bad about sending you away and it was him that wanted to check on you.” You weren’t entirely sure you believed her. She always tried to play something of a mediator between your father and you and so this situation reeked of her interference. And with that silence descended between the pair of you. You didn’t want to admit anything to her because right now you were holding something of a metaphorical upper hand. She only suspected something and she only suspected Max. “Anything that may or may not be going on between Max and I is not anyone else’s business.” It was a good diversion. You didn’t need to confirm or deny anything but Geri still eyed you up suspiciously. “If you’re worried I’m going to tell your dad, don’t be. This is something that you are in control of, you and Max…or not Max….” Her hand reached out and squeezed your arm again in a rather motherly way and you realised she was silently telling you not to worry about her spilling her guts to anyone. She would keep quiet. “Plus, I don’t know how your father would react. He would maybe cut the breaks on Max’s car or something.” Geri added with a nervous sounding giggle. You swallowed, you knew you gave her a hard time at times – well after the shit show that your early teens were due to her who could blame you – but this was one of the rare moments that you actually rather found yourself loving your stepmother.

It only took a further 45 minutes for the peace of mind Geri had provided you with to come crashing down like a lead balloon. You had gone back outside, ate a slice of cake, bounced on the bouncy castle with the kids and then come back off feeling a little queasy so fetched a drink from the bar behind the adults table. You were close to selecting a glass of champagne but chose the safe option and went for a sparkling water instead. And that was when your dad appeared at the side of you and asked for a word almost simultaneously, a familiar sinking feeling cast down upon you. You didn’t have to wonder very hard to know it was about your unannounced appearance at his workplace. The vein on his temple practically throbbing away as he put his hands on his hips like you were a member of the media and not his eldest child. You had to be at leas thankful for the small mercy he had pulled you away from the foray of guests that would no doubt relish in hearing some Horner family gossip.

He didn’t speak but rather stared at you disapprovingly. It was clear and obvious waiting on you to talk first, to apologise or grovel, and judging by the rather alarming knot in your stomach your body was telling you not to do. But then the silence finally became unbearable and you cracked under the pressure. “I know you’re angry with me about turning up to that race but…” “Angry? No I was angry when you strolled into my garage before the race. Now I’m disappointed in your choices that led to you strolling into my garage in the first place.” Disappointed was the only word you heard. It seemed to be a running theme with him being disappointed in you so at least it didn’t break any habits. “Had I not made myself clear before, on all the countless occasions you asked…” You hadn’t asked on countless occasions. You asked twice, both times while Daniel was still with the team and you were an impressionable teenager with a crush. His voice was still going and you had to zone back in to hear what he was saying.

“It was a display of nothing more than sheer defiance of an order. You knew you were not allowed and still persisted anyway. I’m sure if I asked Max about it myself he would confirm that you harangued him into giving you that pass just so you could try and embarrass me. Was that why you decided to go? You wanted to embarrass me? Steal limelight from the team? Because that was what everyone thought of it as. Me, Geri, Helmut, the team, Max…” Max did? You raised your head. “Yes Max. He told me so after the race. He felt lied too. Taken advantage of by you and your silly little notions.” It stung you a little because now you weren’t sure if you could trust him but you knew what your father was like and how he would be overwhelmingly persistent until someone gave him the answer he was seeking. You thought you were handling his tirade pretty well. He had been continuing as you tried to pinpoint the moment in your life things had gone so awfully wrong between the pair of you – even if you weren’t entirely sure that there could be just one in particular – and tried to block every word he was subsequently hitting you with until he brought up your mother. “You’re just like your mother” And that raised a scoff out of you. Their divorce had been nasty but at least she didn’t cheat on her husband, leave her for a fucking Spice Girl and abandon her role as a parent. Upon hearing your scoff you felt the pressure of the moment radiating off your father. “I don’t understand why I’m so unwelcome.” You didn’t mean specifically regarding the issue of the paddock but that was what he focused on.

“Because there is no way in hell I trust you around so many good looking, rich young men. I remember the look in your eyes at Ricciardo a few years ago and I won’t have you making a fool of yourself at the expense of my name when you attempt to fling yourself at one them.” The sexism that exuded from your father was predictable and didn’t even sound that bad compared to some of the things he said over the years. But this time the difference was that you actively had to stop yourself from scoffing again at the irony of the situation you found yourself in with none other than his own golden driver. You wondered how sweet it would be to just out the fact you had been shagging Max behind his back in front of all these people and the scene it would likely create. But a loud squeal from the children playing on the lawn was a sudden reminder not to be the cause of any upset. After all, the fact it was his son’s birthday was all that was keeping him back from shouting at you like you knew he wanted too. “Perhaps its best you leave.” He stated bluntly. “I promised Monty I would play with…” “He’ll forget about it. Just go.”

You had had plenty of words over the years but for some reason today felt like some of the worst. He had never ordered you to leave before, ever. And you wanted to believe it was because of all of Geri’s rich, fancy, posh friends and your dad not wanting to cause a scene but you knew it was because he was teetering dangerously close to saying things that he would never be able to take back and perhaps damage the remnants of a relationship with you irrevocably. When he got mad, no one on earth was madder. What people saw in the F1 paddock could be seen as child’s play compared to what you had seen and yet as you glanced over at your half brother you did indeed head inside of the house to retrieve your things and sneak away out of the front door. You couldn’t be bothered to put up with a fight today.

While your expensive trainer clad feet crunched again on the stony gravel of the driveway, you took your phone from your bag as you made your way toward your car. Your finger hovered for a moment over the icon for call but you pushed the reservations out of your mind and did it anyway. It only took a few short rings, ones that synchronised perfectly with your step, but when you finally heard his accented voice you felt like a century had passed. You took a long deep inhale as you unlocked your car and hastily opened the drivers door.

“Does your offer still stand? Do you think I could catch a flight out tonight?”

****

You admired the beautiful view out of the helicopter window. The trip from Nice to Monaco was shortest by heli taxi and although you didn’t particularly like flying in helicopters you felt filled with a strange excitement. Both at where you were landing and whom exactly it was that was waiting down on the ground to pick you up. Max had arranged everything for you after your phone call. It was all done so quickly it was as if he was actively waiting on you to phone him. You hadn’t explained to him the reasons for your sudden change of mind but when the screenshot of your boarding pass came through you had never felt such a feeling of relief before and mentally thanked him for helping you escape from your horrid day. The pilot suddenly announced to you that you would be landing in two minutes and a strange calmness passed over your body. It was as if your self conscience knew that this was where you were supposed to be right now to “recover” from the one sided argument you had had with your dad. And indeed, as you strolled through the miniscule terminal with your luggage beside you, you couldn’t hide your smile. You had to remind yourself not to leap on him as soon as you saw him but it was a struggle when you saw him leaning against his car smiling straight back at you, reminding you of some stupid Disney prince, your knight in shining fucking armour.

“Hey you….” He purred into the flesh of your neck as you wrapped your arms around his. Peacefulness swept over your entire body as he held you and you allowed yourself to register it, drink it in and lock it in your memory to remind you what it felt like forever. As he pulled back you watched him as he glanced side to side quickly and just as you were about to laugh and ask what he was doing his hand found the back of your head and he pressed his lips against yours. It was more than what you needed. It was absolutely everything. A sigh escaped from you and made its way into his mouth and he couldn’t help but smirk against your lips. “That much huh?” He asked and you knew he was referring to how much you needed him, craved him and yearned for him. But he didn’t try to jest with you. He didn’t try and make light of what it was that brought you here. He didn’t try to reduce it down to the friends with benefits situation you now found yourself in with him. Instead he just lulled a gentle “let's get you home” and that was that.

As the strange knot in your stomach – the one that had pretty much been there all day – tightened again Max seemed to pick up on your slightly agitated state. He had to have noticed how you couldn’t stop biting your lip, twirling your hair or picking at your manicure. “Was your brother’s birthday party today?” He asked and your head rolled back against the headrest when you turned to look at him. You nodded and he caught it when he glanced at you. “Let's not talk about that.” It came out of you in nothing louder than a whisper - you didn't trust yourself not to get emotional - and Max nodded in agreement but it only took him a further 30 seconds to add; “If there’s something on your mind….”

“Nothing that matters.” Your reply was as soft as your earlier plea not to talk about it. You didn’t want anything about your ridiculous family being spoken about when they were the ones you were here to forget even existed.

*****

Max held open his apartment door but let you in first ahead of him. Standing in the hallway you felt like it wasn’t as bachelor pad-esque as you had been expecting. There was softness to the area that you pinned as a woman’s touch, his mother’s perhaps - you had done your research after that day in your fathers Aston Martin and concluded he wasn’t in any form of neither serious nor public relationship and therefore was pretty much free game in your eyes. As the door closed behind you, the reason you were there flooded back to you and all you suddenly wanted was him him to make you feel better. You wanted him to simply erase the memory of today straight out of your mind. So the sound of the door closing was your signal. With haste you turned simultaneously and pressed your body against his while your mouth found his. His keys tumbled from his palm and made a loud clattering noise on the floor as his palm was suddenly on your neck as a shaky breath poured from him into your open mouth. You were so hopelessly desperate for him that your hands trailed down toward the waistband of his jeans to urge him to take this to the bedroom. Max took your deliberate action to mean exactly what you wanted it too and his hands slipped down your back and he used his strength to pick you up, clean off your feet, and you wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you off to his bedroom.

You were thankful at Max’s hasty speed in getting you undressed and how he could turn you on like a tap. As you ran your hands through his soft hair his mouth had already began its decent down your chest and a heavy sigh left your open mouth when he took your nipple in his mouth and grazed over it with his teeth. Max practically purred when he heard your gasp when he sunk his teeth in a little harder before placing a tender kiss against the flesh he had just had in his mouth. You could feel how Max’s foreplay had had the desired effect of you. You could feel how slick you were getting between your thighs and you were so wet you were ready to beg for him. But Max was one step ahead of you.

“What do you want?” He breathed against your neck and you couldn’t deny the tingle it sent all over your body, pure undeniable excitement. Your hips lifted off of his bed against pushed against his. His cock brushing against your core told you of his own excitement and what he wanted too. “Fuck me…” It left you as more of a whine than you intended but his smirk told you he liked it. And with your vocalised encouragement Max repositioned himself, pulling your leg up around his hip how he wanted it and you felt the tip of his cock slide up and down your folds, both collecting some of your wetness but you also knew it was because he wanted to tease you.

His mouth grazed over yours, his lips practically capturing your own as finally he slowly gave you a few inches of his thick cock and your mouth fell open against his. You moaned his name and he pulled out before teasing you with a few more inches. The stretch from his girthy cock made your breath tremble. Then as he repeated the action, he halted and asked you to open your eyes and look at him. His iceberg blue orbs stared straight into your soul and you felt like he was capturing something inside of you that you weren’t able to withhold from him. And then as his eyes transfixed on yours, he finally gave you all of himself. Filling you up, straight up to the hilt. Max stayed there for the shortest of moments before he decided now was when he would start slowly building his pace. His hips ground against yours with every thrust while a grunt toppled from his open mouth. Your breathing started to unsteady itself with each of the powerful, long thrusts Max made and you encouraged him to go faster – and harder – by raking your nails across the flesh of his shoulders.

With every passing moment you felt yourself become more and more undone. Max’s cock was angled just right. Continually hitting that spot inside of you that drove you closer and closer to the edge. This was exactly what you imagined in your head when you received the text containing the screenshot of your ticket from him this afternoon. It was what you thought of when you sat on the flight from England to France a few hours ago. But mostly it was what you had anticipated when you made the call asking if he still wanted you when you had been cast out of your father’s home this afternoon. It wasn’t revenge – in the manner which perhaps other people would have thought it would have been – it was just to feel wanted, desired, and in some nonsensical way that made some resemblance of sense in a deep dark part of your brain, loved. You hadn’t realised that you had momentarily zoned out until Max slowed his rhythm and gently caressed your cheek.

“Hey, are you ok? Do you want to stop?” Your eyes found his again and words failed you but no, you didn’t want to stop. Your lips pressed against his as if you were trying to telepathically thank him for making you feel so alive and worthy. But you felt his cock twitch inside of you and without a second thought you used every shred of strength inside of you to turn your positions over so you were on top.

A pleased, admirable sigh left Max’s mouth as he gripped hold of your hips as you steadied yourself with flat hands on his chest. You watched his eyes cast over your perfectly naked frame. Focusing on your chest before falling downwards to your open legs straddling his lap. Instinctively you allowed him his time to stare at you, wanting him to take you in, before you slipped your hand down, between your thighs and grasp hold of his throbbing, still erect cock and slowly lowered yourself down upon it. Max felt impossibly large like this and if he was hitting the spot before he was doing it even more so now. You moaned as you took all of him and it mixed with a groan that erupted out of him.

“Fuck…” He swore when you finally started moving. His fingertips pressing into the flesh of your hips so tightly you knew he would be leaving bruises but you didn’t care. Another groan cascaded from his open mouth and you knew he was close. The thought of your own orgasm – which only moments ago was building to an almost impossible crescendo - was now far from your mind as you were solely focused on him for no other reason than as a thank-you for saving you today. And as you reached behind you, placing your hand on his thigh for support and so he had a better view of himself inside of you, you picked up the pace a little more till you knew he was ready to cum. You saw all of the signs or rather you knew all of Max’s tell tale signs he was about to reach his high. His eyes squeezed shut, brow furrowed. He mouth agape gasping and stifling his own moans. His breathing was hitching and he was struggling to keep it steady. His stomach clenched and you could feel him beginning to twitch inside of you. You purred his name a few times and on the last one, when your mouth was open and your eyes shut tightly, Max sat bolt up right and held you in place as he finally found his release. His arms were around you, holding you tightly as his milky seed poured out of him into the condom he was wearing but you none the less felt his cock pulsate at the feeling of his climax.

“Just…give me ten…” He panted as he fell back against the plush pillows and you smugly trailed your hands across his shoulders before dismounting his lap. You watched the rise and fall of his chest as he fought to regain control of his breathing and it provided you with the rhythm to regain your own. You hadn’t even realised you were still panting until you heard him taking a few long deep (still shaky) breaths. “…You didn’t get off, I need to fix that.” The fact he noticed that he had gotten his while you hadn’t, was something you couldn’t help but mentally note. He couldn’t have possibly been that in tune with your body yet so figured you should telepathically thank all the women who had come before you who had taught him so well. “You don’t have too.” You said as you lay down beside him and although you really did want him to make you cum, it wasn’t the most important thing to you in that moment. In truth, you felt rather at odds with yourself now that you lay in his bed. Almost like you could admit how easy it would be to fall in love with Max instead of just keeping up the “fuck buddies” or “friends with benefits” titles that the pair of you seemed to silently agree upon without even a discussion.

“I want to.” His head turned toward you and he smiled, not smirked this time, at you as if he was silently informing you that your satisfaction was his only priority right now. And that was all it took to ignite something inside of you.   

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[carusolikey]

The Blue Hour

a Max Phillips & Bloodsucking Bastards FanFic

Summary

In filmmaking and photography, the most coveted time of the day occurs just after sunrise and just before sunset - when the sun’s angle as it hits the earth’s surface produces a beautiful, perfect glow on everything the light touches. Naturally, it makes sense that it is known throughout the industry as The Golden Hour.

The opposite of this is known as The Blue Hour, taking place in the quiet before sunrise and scantly past the precipice of sunset - when the sun’s position scarcely below the horizon casts its cool tones. As the ripe colors of The Golden Hour are exsanguinated from the landscapes and cityscapes, the tranquility of night with its alluring promise of sleep creates an ambience that is both calming and nostalgic. 

In this tale, we find ourselves caught in the midst of a months-long web of insomnia, cycling through night after night - doing our own bidding in the wee hours undisturbed by any other residents of the apartment building. Until one fateful night, when an unwelcome interloper by the name of Max Phillips decides to crash a 5 minute dance-party-for-one in the basement laundry room.

He’s handsome and well-dressed for a pharmaceutical salesman, but has the type of charm you’d assume from someone peddling snake oil. And somehow, he keeps popping up when least expected, creeping in like hedera helix - invasive English ivy, covering the outside of our brick building, eager to infiltrate what lies beneath.

To resist this dapper vampire, might very well prove to be futile.

Pairing: Max Phillips of Bloodsucking Bastards x afab!fem!reader

Rating: Explicit / NSFW 18+ (No Minors)

Author’s Note: I wrote this piece during the month of April 2024 - Adenomyosis Awareness Month, and the idea came to me during March 2024 (Endometriosis Awareness Month). This will not have any type of pregnancy kink, but will touch on infertility of OC due to the aforementioned; canon for this story is also that Vampires are infertile - there will be no Renesmé. OC is intended to be around the same age as Max, reader’s choice up or down, but no age gap. Because older afab/fem lovers are sexy - we drink and we know things. The style of this sticks to the humor and playfulness of the original movie, while incorporating a very sexy and romantic Max, even though he is a little bit of a cocky, smartmouth asshole.

Warnings: A bit of rough sex/smut (fingering, fem penetration - P in V, oral [m + f receiving]), food play, 18+ only content, able bodied fem afab reader, alcohol consumption, non-gendered pet names, fem can be carried and has hair - though length is not mentioned, consensual "bondage", some use of y+n - but not explicitly, though consensuality is implied and intended through actions and reactions, no protection used for Vampire reasons TBD (be wise and always use protection, this is fiction). Did attempt to stay away from gendered pronouns and nicknames, although did use the word woman, 3 times throughout the entire piece (not fully published yet) referring to OC. Future chapters will discuss history endo / adeno, and of previous relationship / SA; there will also be Vampire hunting, murdering, and blood….sucking bastards.

Word Count: ~ 7,250 (For Chapter 1 Only)

Chapter 1 Chapter 1 Easter Eggs

If you enjoyed this first Chapter, please don't hesitate to share the wealth of Max by reblogging - we all know he loves the attention!

Additional FanFics:

Paddington 3: Lost in Mallorca

Javi G. x afab!fem!reader

#Pedro Pascal #Max Phillips x afab!fem!reader #Bloodsucking Bastards Fic #Adenomyosis Awareness #Endometriosis Awareness #Not Twilight #NO Renesmé