#i sort of studied last weekend but i kept skipping parts i found to boring and i dont remember anything from the parts i did not skip

[newtness532]

how do people say they dont care about something and then actually not care about it?

[96harmony96]

Chapter 6

Hey, Dad. I caught you.” I adjusted my grip on the phone receiver and pulled up a stool at the breakfast bar. I missed my father. For the last four years we’d lived close enough to see each other at least once a week. Now his home in Oceanside was the entire country away. “How are you?”

He lowered the volume on the television. “Better, now that you’ve called. How was your first week at work?”

I went over my days from Monday through Friday, skipping over all the Lauren parts. “I really like my boss, Mark,” I finished. “And the vibe of the agency is very energetic and kind of quirky. I’m happy going to work every day, and I’m bummed when it’s time to go home.”

“I hope it stays that way. But you need to make sure you have some downtime, too. Go out, be young, have fun. But not too much fun.”

“Yeah, I had a little too much last night. Cary and I went clubbing, and I woke up with a mean hangover.”

“Shit, don’t tell me that.” He groaned. “Some nights I wake up in a cold sweat thinking about you in New York. I get through it by telling myself you’re too smart to take chances, thanks to two parents who’ve drilled safety rules into your DNA.”

“Which is true,” I said, laughing. “That reminds me…I’m going to start Krav Maga training.”

“Really?” There was a thoughtful pause. “One of the guys on the force is big on it. Maybe I’ll check it out and we can compare notes when I come out to visit you.”

“You’re coming to New York?” I couldn’t hide my excitement. “Oh, Dad, I’d love it if you would. As much as I miss SoCal, Manhattan is really awesome. I think you’ll like it.”

“I’d like anyplace in the world as long as you’re there.” He waited a beat, then asked, “How’s your mom?”

“Well…she’s Mom. Beautiful, charming, and obsessive-compulsive.”

My chest hurt and I rubbed at it. I thought my dad might still love my mom. He’d never married. That was one of the reasons I never told him about what happened to me. As a cop, he would’ve insisted on pressing charges and the scandal would have destroyed my mother. I also worried that he’d lose respect for her or even blame her, and it hadn’t been her fault. As soon as she’d found out what her stepson was doing to me, she’d left a husband she was happy with and filed for divorce.

I kept talking, waving at Cary as he came rushing in with a little blue Tiffany & Co. bag. “We had a spa day today. It was a fun way to cap off the week.”

I could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “I’m glad you two are managing to spend time together. What are your plans for the rest of the weekend?”

I hedged on the subject of the charity event, knowing the whole red carpet business and astronomically-priced dinner seats would just highlight the gap between my parents’ lives. “Cary and I are going out to eat, and then I plan on staying in tomorrow. Sleeping in late, hanging out in my pajamas all day, maybe some movies and food delivery of some sort. A little vegetating before a new work week kicks off.”

“Sounds like heaven to me. I may copy you when my next day off rolls around.”

Glancing at the clock, I saw it was creeping past six. “I have to get ready now. Be careful at work, okay? I worry about you, too.”

“Will do. Bye, baby.”

The familiar sign-off had me missing him so much my throat hurt. “Oh, wait! I’m getting a new cell phone. I’ll text you the number as soon as I have it.”

“Again? You just got a new one when you moved.”

“Long, boring story.”

“Hmm…Don’t put it off. They’re good for safety as well as playing Angry Birds.”

“I’m over that game!” I laughed and warmth spread through me to hear him laughing, too. “I’ll call you in a few days. Be good.”

“That’s my line.”

We hung up. I sat for a few moments in the ensuing silence, feeling like everything was right in my world, which never lasted long. I brooded on that for minute; then Cary cranked up Hinder on his bedroom stereo and that kicked my butt into gear.

I hurried to my room to get ready for a night with Lauren.

“Necklace or no necklace?” I asked Cary, when he came into my bedroom looking seriously amazing. Dressed in his new Brioni tux, he was both debonair and dashing, and certain to attract attention.

“Hmm.” His head tilted to the side as he studied me. “Hold it up again.”

I lifted the choker of gold coins to my throat. The dress my mom had sent was fire engine red and styled for a Grecian goddess. It hung on one shoulder, cut diagonally across my cleavage, had ruching to the hip, and then split at my right upper thigh all the way down my leg. There was no back to speak of, aside from a slender strip of rhinestones that connected one side to the other to keep the front from falling off. Otherwise, the back was bared to just above the crack of my buttocks in a racy V-cut.

“Forget the necklace,” he said. “I was leaning toward gold chandeliers, but now I’m thinking diamond hoops. The biggest ones you’ve got.”

“What? Really?” I frowned at our reflections in my cheval mirror, watching as he moved to my jewelry box and dug through it.

“These.” He brought them to me and I eyed the two-inch hoops my mother had given me for my eighteenth birthday. “Trust me, Camila. Try ’em on.”

I did and found he was right. It was a very different look from the gold choker, less glam and more edgy sensuality. And the earrings went well with the diamond anklet on my right leg that I’d never think of the same way again after Lauren’s comment. With my hair swept off my face into a cascade of thick, deliberately messy curls, I had a just-screwed look that was complemented by smoky eye shadow and glossy nude lips.

“What would I do without you, Cary Taylor?”

“Baby girl”—he set his hands on my shoulders and pressed his cheek to mine—“you’ll never find out.”

“You look awesome, by the way.”

“Don’t I?” He winked and stepped back, showing off.

In his own way, Cary could give Lauren a run for her money…er, looks. Cary was more finely featured, almost pretty compared to Lauren’s savage beauty, but both were striking people that made you look twice, and then stare in greedy delight.

Cary hadn’t been quite so perfect when I met him. He’d been strung out and gaunt, his emerald eyes cloudy and lost. But I’d been drawn to him, going out of my way to sit next to him in group therapy. He’d finally propositioned me crudely, having come to believe the only reason people associated with him was because they wanted to fuck him. It was when I declined, firmly and irrevocably, that we finally connected and became best friends. He was the brother I’d never had.

The intercom buzzed and I jumped, making me realize how nervous I was. I looked at Cary. “I forgot to tell the front desk she was coming back.”

“I’ll get her.”

“Are you going to be okay riding over with Stanton and my mom?”

“Are you kidding? They love me.” His smile dimmed. “Having second thoughts about going with Jauregui?”

I took a deep breath, remembering where I’d been earlier—on my back in a multi-orgasmic daze. “Not really, no. It’s just that everything’s happening so fast and going better than I expected or realized I wanted…”

“You’re wondering what the catch is.” Reaching out, he tapped my nose with his fingertip. “she’s the catch, Camila. And you landed her. Enjoy yourself.”

“I’m trying.” I was grateful that Cary understood me and the way my mind worked. It was just so easy being with him, knowing he could fill in the blanks when I couldn’t explain something.

“I researched the hell out of her this morning and printed out the interesting recent stuff. It’s on your desk, if you decide you want to check it out.”

I remembered him printing something before we got ready for the spa. Pushing onto my tiptoes, I kissed his cheek. “You’re the best. I love you.”

“Back atcha, baby girl.” He headed out. “I’ll head down to the front desk and bring her up. Take your time. she’s ten minutes early.”

Smiling, I watched him saunter into the hallway. The door had closed behind him when I moved into the small sitting room attached to my bedroom. On the very impractical escritoire my mother had picked out, I found a folder filled with articles and printed images. I settled into the chair and got lost in Lauren Jauregui's history.

It was like watching a train wreck to read that she was the Daughter of Geoffrey Jauregui, former chairman of an investment securities firm later found to be a front for a massive Ponzi scheme. Lauren was just five years old when her dad committed suicide with a gunshot to the head rather than face prison time.

Oh, Lauren. I tried to picture her that young and imagined a handsome dark-haired girl with beautiful green eyes filled with terrible confusion and sadness. The image broke my heart. How devastating her father’s suicide—and the circumstances around it—must have been, for both her and her mother. The stress and strain at such a difficult time would’ve been enormous, especially for a child of that age.

Her mother went on to marry Christopher Vidal, a music executive, and had two more children, Christopher Vidal Jr. and Ireland Vidal, but it seemed a larger family and financial security had come too late to help Lauren stabilize after such a huge shakeup. she was too closed off not to bear some painful emotional scars.

With a critical and curious eye, I studied the women who’d been photographed with Lauren and thought about her approach to dating, socializing, and sex. I saw that my mom had been right—they were all blondes. The woman who appeared with her most often bore the hallmarks of a KaKasian heritage. she was taller than me, willowy rather than curvy.

“Magdalene Perez,” I murmured, grudgingly admitting that she was a stunner. Her posture had the kind of flamboyant confidence that I admired.

“Okay, it’s been long enough,” Cary interrupted with a soft note of amusement. He filled the doorway to my sitting room, leaning insolently into the doorjamb.

“Really?” I’d been so absorbed; I hadn’t realized how much time had passed.

“I would guess you’re about a minute away from her coming to find you. she’s barely restraining herself.”

I shut the folder and stood.

“Interesting reading, isn’t it?”

“Very.” How had lauren’s father—or more specifically, her father’s suicide—influenced her life?

I knew all the answers I wanted were waiting for me in the next room.

Leaving my bedroom, I took the hallway to the living room. I paused on the threshold, my gaze riveted to lauren’s back as she stood in front of the windows and looked out at the city. My heart rate kicked up. Her reflection revealed a contemplative mood. Her gaze was unfocused and her mouth grim. Her crossed arms betrayed an inherent unease, as if she was out of her element. she looked remote and removed, a woman who was inherently alone.

she sensed my presence or maybe he felt my yearning. she pivoted; then went very still. I took the opportunity to drink her in, my gaze sliding all over her. she looked every inch the powerful magnate. So sensually handsome my eyes burned just from looking at her. The rakish fall of black hair around her face made my fingers flex with the urge to touch it. And the way she looked at me…my pulse leaped.

“Camila.” she came toward me, her stride graceful and strong. she caught up my hand and lifted it to her mouth. Her gaze was intense—intensely hot, intensely focused.

The feel of her lips against my skin sent goose bumps racing up my arm and stirred memories of that sinful mouth on other parts of my body. I was instantly aroused. “Hi.”

Amusement warmed her eyes. “Hi, yourself. You look amazing. I can’t wait to show you off.”

I breathed through the delight I felt at the compliment. “Let’s hope I can do you justice.”

A slight frown knit the space between her brows. “Do you have everything you need?”

Cary appeared beside me, carrying my black velvet shawl and opera length gloves. “Here you go. I tucked your gloss into your clutch.”

“You’re the best, Cary.”

He winked at me—which told me he’d seen the condoms I had tucked into the small interior pocket. “I’ll head down with you two.”

Lauren took the shawl from Cary and draped it over my shoulders. she pulled my hair out from underneath it and the feel of her hands at my neck so distracted me, I barely paid attention when Cary pushed my gloves into my hands.

The elevator ride to the lobby was an exercise in surviving acute sexual tension. Not that Cary seemed to notice. He was on my left with both hands in his pockets, whistling. Lauren, on the other hand, was a tremendous force on the other side of me. Although ahe didn’t move or make a sound, I could feel the edgy energy radiating from her. My skin tingled from the magnetic pull between us, and my breath came short and fast. I was relieved when the doors opened and freed us from the enclosed space.

Two women stood waiting to get on. Their jaws dropped when they saw Lauren and Cary, and that lightened my mood and made me smile.

“Ladies,” Cary greeted them, with a smile that really wasn’t fair. I could almost see their brain cells misfiring.

In contrast, Lauren gave a curt nod and led me out with a hand at the small of my back, skin to skin. The contact was electric, sending heat pouring through me.

I squeezed Cary’s hand. “Save a dance for me.”

“Always. See you in a bit.”

A limousine was waiting at the curb, and the driver opened the door when Lauren and I stepped outside. I slid across the bench seat to the opposite side and adjusted my gown. When Lauren settled beside me and the door shut, I became highly conscious of how good she smelled. I breathed her in, telling myself to relax and enjoy her company. she took my hand and ran her fingertips over the palm, the simple touch sparking a fierce lust. I shrugged off my shawl, feeling too hot to wear it.

“Camila.” she hit a button and the privacy glass behind the driver began to slide up. The next moment I was tugged across her lap and her mouth was on mine, kissing me fiercely.

I did what I’d wanted to do since I saw hee in my living room: I shoved my hands in her hair and kissed her back. I loved the way she kissed me, as if she had to, as if she’d go crazy if she didn’t and had nearly waited too long. I sucked on her tongue, having learned how much she liked it, having learned how much I liked it, how much it made me want to suck her elsewhere with the same eagerness.

Her hands were sliding over my bare back and I moaned, feeling the prod of her erection against my hip. I shifted, moving to straddle her, shoving the skirt of my gown out of the way and making a mental note to thank my mom for the dress—which had such a convenient slit. With my knees on either side of her hips, I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and deepened the kiss. I licked into her mouth, nibbled on her lower lip, stroked my tongue along her…

Lauren gripped my waist and pushed me away. she leaned into the seat back, her neck arched to look up at my face, her chest heaving. “What are you doing to me?”

I ran my hands down her chest through her dress shirt, feeling the unforgiving hardness of her muscles. My fingers traced the ridges of her abdomen, my mind forming a picture of how she might look naked. “I’m touching you. Enjoying the hell out of you. I want you, Lauren.”

she caught my wrists, stilling my movements. “Later. We’re in the middle of Manhattan.”

“No one can see us.”

“That’s not the point. It’s not the time or place to start something we can’t finish for hours. I’m losing my mind already from this afternoon.”

“So let’s make sure we finish it now.”

Her grip tightened painfully. “We can’t do that here.”

“Why not?” Then a surprising thought struck me. “Haven’t you ever had sex in a limo?”

“No.” Her jaw hardened. “Have you?”

Looking away without answering, I saw the traffic and pedestrians surging around us. We were only inches away from hundreds of people, but the dark glass concealed us and made me feel reckless. I wanted to please her. I wanted to know I was capable of reaching into Lauren Jauregui, and there was nothing to stop me but her.

I rocked my hips against her, stroking myself with the hard length of her cock. Her breath hissed out between clenched teeth.

“I need you, Lauren,” I said breathlessly, inhaling her scent, which was richer now that she was aroused. I thought I might be slightly intoxicated, just from the enticing smell of her skin. “You drive me crazy.”

she released my wrists and cupped my face, her lips pressing hard against mine. I reached for the fly of her slacks, freeing the two buttons to access the concealed zipper. she tensed.

“I need this,” I whispered against her lips. “Give me this.”

she didn’t relax, but she made no further attempts to stop me either. When she fell heavily into my palms, she groaned, the sound both pained and erotic. I squeezed her gently, my touch deliberately tender as I sized her with my hands. she was so hard, like stone, and hot. I slid both of my fists up her length from root to tip, my breath catching when she quivered beneath me.

Lauren gripped my thighs, her hands sliding upward beneath the edges of my dress until her thumbs found the red lace of my thong. “Your cunt is so sweet,” she murmured into my mouth. “I want to spread you out and lick you ’til you beg for my cock.”

“I’ll beg now, if you want.” I stroked her with one hand and reached for my clutch with the other, snapping it open to grab a condom.

One of her thumbs slid beneath the edge of my panties, the pad sliding through the slickness of my desire. “I’ve barely touched you,” she whispered, her eyes glittering up at me in the shadows of the backseat, “and you’re ready for me.”

“I can’t help it.”

“I don’t want you to help it.” she pushed her thumb inside me, biting her lower lip when I clenched helplessly around her. “It wouldn’t be fair when I can’t stop what you do to me.”

I ripped the foil packet open with my teeth and held it out to her with the ring of the condom protruding from the tear. “I’m not good with these.”

Her hand curled around mine. “I’m breaking all my rules with you.”

The seriousness of her low tone sent a burst of warmth and confidence through me. “Rules are made to be broken.”

I saw her teeth flash white; then she hit a button on the panel beside him and said, “Drive until I say otherwise.”

My cheeks heated. Another car’s headlights pierced the dark tinted glass and slid over my face, betraying my embarrassment.

“Why, Camila,” she purred, rolling the condom on deftly. “You’ve seduced me into having sex in my limousine, but blush when I tell my driver I don’t want to be interrupted while you do it to me?”

Her sudden playfulness made me desperate to have her. Setting my hands on her shoulders for balance, I lifted onto my knees, rising to gain the height I needed to hover over the crown of Laurens thick cock. Her hands fisted at my hips and I heard a snap as she tore my panties away. The abrupt sound and the violent action behind it spurred my desire to a fever pitch.

“Go slow,” she ordered hoarsely, lifting her hips to push her pants down farther.

Her erection brushed between my legs as she moved and I whimpered, so aching and empty, as if the orgasms she’d given me earlier had only deepened my craving rather than appeased it.

she tensed when I wrapped my fingers around her and positioned her, tucking the wide crest against the saturated folds of my cleft. The scent of our lust was heavy and humid in the air, a seductive mix of need and pheromones that awakened every cell in my body. My skin was flushed and tingling, my breasts heavy and tender.

This is what I’d wanted from the moment I first saw her—to possess her, to climb up her magnificent body and take her deep inside me.

“God. Camila,” she gasped as I lowered onto her, her hands flexing restlessly on my thighs.

I closed my eyes, feeling too exposed. I’d wanted intimacy with her and yet this seemed too intimate. We were eye-to-eye, only inches apart, cocooned in a small space with the rest of the world streaming by around us. I could sense his agitation, knew she was feeling as off-center as I was.

“You’re so tight.” Her gasped words were threaded with a hint of delicious agony.

I took more of her, letting her slide deeper. I sucked in a deep breath, feeling exquisitely stretched. “You’re so big.”

Pressing her palm flat to my lower belly, she touched my throbbing clit with the pad of her thumb and began to massage it in slow, expertly soft circles. Everything in my core tightened and clenched, sucking her deeper. Opening my eyes, I looked at her from under heavy eyelids. she was so beautiful sprawled beneath me in her elegant tuxedo, her powerful body straining with the primal need to mate.

Her neck arched, her head pressing hard into the seatback as if she was struggling against invisible bonds. “Ah, Christ,” she bit out, her teeth grinding. “I’m going to come so hard.”

The dark promise excited me. Sweat misted my skin. I became so wet and hot that I slid smoothly down the length of her cock until I’d nearly sheathed her. A breathless cry escaped me before I’d taken her to the root. she was so deep I could hardly stand it, forcing me to shift from side to side, trying to ease the unexpected bite of discomfort. But my body didn’t seem to care that she was too big. It was rippling around her, squeezing, trembling on the verge of orgasm.

Lauren cursed and gripped my hip with her free hand, urging me to lean backward as her chest heaved with frantic breaths. The position altered my descent and I opened, accepting all of her. Immediately her body temperature rose, her torso radiating sultry heat through her clothes. Sweat dotted her upper lip.

Leaning forward, I slid my tongue along the sculpted curve, collecting the saltiness with a low murmur of delight. Her hips churned impatiently. I lifted carefully, sliding up a few inches before she stopped me with that ferocious grasp on my hip.

“Slow,” she warned again, with an authoritative bite that sent lust pulsing through me.

I lowered, taking her into me again, feeling an oddly luscious soreness as she pushed just past my limits. Our eyes locked on each other as the pleasure spread from the place where we connected. It struck me then that we were both fully clothed except for the most private and intimate parts of our bodies. I found that excruciatingly carnal, as were the sounds she made, as if the pleasure was as extreme for her as it was for me.

Wild for her, I pressed my mouth to her, my fingers gripping the sweat-damp roots of her hair. I kissed her as I rocked my hips, riding the maddening circling of her thumb, feeling the orgasm building with every slide of her long, thick penis into my melting core.

I lost my mind somewhere along the way, primitive instinct taking over until my body was completely in charge. I could focus on nothing but the driving urge to fuck, the ferocious need to ride her cock until the tension burst and set me free of this grinding hunger.

“It’s so good,” I sobbed, lost to her. “You feel…Ah, God, it’s too good.”

Using both hands, Lauren commanded my rhythm, tilting me into an angle that had the big crown of her cock rubbing a tender, aching spot inside me. As I tightened and shook, I realized I was going to come from that, just from the expert thrust of her inside me. “Lauren.”

she captured me by the nape as the orgasm exploded through me, starting with the ecstatic spasms of my core and radiating outward until I was trembling all over. she watched me fall apart, holding my gaze when I would’ve closed my eyes. Possessed by her stare, I moaned and came harder than I ever had, my body jerking with every pulse of pleasure.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she growled, pounding her hips up at me, yanking my hips down to meet her punishing lunges. she hit the end of me with every deep thrust, battering into me. I could feel her growing harder and thicker.

I watched her avidly, needing to see it when she went over the edge for me. Her eyes were wild with her need, losing their focus as her control frayed, her gorgeous face ravaged by the brutal race to climax.

“Camila!” she came with an animal sound of feral ecstasy, a snarling release that riveted me with its ferocity. she shook as the orgasm tore into her, her features softening for an instant with an unexpected vulnerability.

Cupping her face, I brushed my lips across her, comforting her as the forceful bursts of her gasping breaths struck my cheeks.

“Camila.” she wrapped her arms around me and crushed me to her, pressing her damp face into the curve of my neck.

I knew just how she felt. Stripped. Laid bare.

We stayed like that for a long time, holding each other, absorbing the aftershocks. she turned her head and kissed me softly, the strokes of her tongue into my mouth soothing my ragged emotions.

“Wow,” I breathed, shaken.

Her mouth twitched. “Yeah.”

I smiled, feeling dazed and high.

Lauren brushed the damp tendrils of hair off my temples, her fingertips gliding almost reverently across my face. The way she studied me made my chest hurt. she looked stunned and…grateful, her eyes warm and tender. “I don’t want to break this moment.”

Because I could hear it hanging in the air, I filled it in. “But…?”

“But I can’t blow off this dinner. I have a speech to give.”

“Oh.” The moment was effectively broken.

I lifted gingerly off of her, biting my lip at the feel of her slipping wetly out of me. The friction was enough to make me want more. she’d barely softened.

“Damn it,” she said roughly. “I want you again.”

she caught me before I moved away, pulling a handkerchief out from somewhere and running it gently between my legs. It was a deeply intimate act, on par with the sex we’d just had.

When I was dry, I settled on the seat beside her and dug my lip gloss out of my clutch. I watched Lauren over the edge of my mirrored compact as she removed the condom and tied it off. she wrapped it in a cocktail napkin; then tossed it in a cleverly hidden trash receptacle. After restoring her appearance, she told the driver to head to our destination. Then she settled into the seat and stared out the window.

With every second that passed, I felt her withdrawing, the connection between us slipping further and further away. I found myself shrinking into the corner of the seat, away from her, mimicking the distance I felt building between us. All the warmth I’d felt receded into a marked chill, cooling me enough that I pulled my shawl around me again. she didn’t move a muscle as I shifted beside her and put my compact away, as if she wasn’t even aware I was there.

Abruptly, Lauren opened the bar and pulled out a bottle. Without looking at me, she asked, “Brandy?”

“No, thank you.” My voice was small, but she didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she didn’t care. she poured a drink and tossed it back.

Confused and stung, I pulled on my gloves and tried to figure out what went wrong.

[luvshuas]

sea salt

pairing - siren!jeonghan x reader

tags - supernatural!au + high school!au (for setting) + angst + bittersweet? fluff

synopsis - living in a seaside town came with its fair share of sailor folklore. the story that sirens, beautiful creatures from the ocean’s depths, walked among us was one of the many tales you were told, but they’re just stories, right?

word count - 3.1k

note - i posted this in october 2019 with another member for 9 hours and then deleted it the morning i woke up, but i think about it a lot and i’m quite fond of it

Did you hear there’s a new boy? Where did he come from? Why did he move here? I heard he ran away from home. I heard his name is Yoon Jeonghan.

You rolled your eyes as whispers of who the new boy could be floated into your ears. No one knew who he was, but he had already become the talk of the town. You couldn’t blame them; it’s not everyday someone new moved in. But the constant whispers of who this mystery boy was annoyed you nonetheless.

You continued the short trek through the school hallways until you arrived in your homeroom. The drafty room was fairly empty, save for the two or three students studying for whatever test they had that day. You mindlessly made your way to your seat. The rattling sound of the old heater settled in between the cracks of silence. You stared at the clock ahead of your desk. It was a pointless decoration seeing that the hands never moved off of 3:30. You wondered if your teacher ever noticed the frozen clock, or if he too saw it just as a decoration.

The headache-inducing school bell flooded its way into the speaker system, a dull reminder that the students had five minutes to wrap up their conversations and make their way to their homeroom. You fixed your gaze back on the clock ahead of you in an attempt to zone out once again, but as more of your classmates filed into the room, so did more whispers of who the new boy might be.

He’s in our year. I wonder if he’s handsome. Do you think he’ll be in our homeroom? What do you think happened to his parents? Maybe he doesn’t have any.

“Do you ever whisper about anything besides other people?” You mumbled quietly. The chatter filling the room didn’t last long as the teacher made his way through the rows of desks before finally landing in the squeaking chair behind his desk in the front corner of the room. Your classmates quickly found their way to their seats. You always found it amusing how much he scared everyone.

“Before I get any questions: no, there are no new students in this class. However, there is a new assignment.” His voice droned monotonously, earning a collection of groans as he explained the new assignment to the class. Your eyes drifted back to the clock as the teacher’s voice became white noise in the back of your mind. Momentarily, you wondered what it felt like to be stuck in one moment and relive it in a never ending loop. “To my knowledge the clock won’t give you instructions,” he spoke loudly, projecting his voice across the classroom to reach you within your bubble of thought. “Stay focused.”

Your ears burned red at the sudden call out. “I’m sorry.” You said meekly. The instructor nodded, continuing his bland explanation. Despite your attempts to focus, your mind continued to wander. You briefly let your mind wander to thoughts about the new boy. You thought about the whispers surrounding him, and a part of you felt bad. No one knew who he was and he was already either being lusted after by your classmates or pinned as a weirdo with no parents by the others. What a poor way to start your first day at a new school, you thought.

The bell releasing everyone from class interrupted your thoughts. Immediately the room was full of chatter and the sound of students shoving notebooks and pencils back into their bags. You pulled your bag onto your shoulders and began making your way towards the door of the classroom. Stepping out of the room, you noticed a crowd of students begin to form. You scoffed, expecting it to be another fight, but you didn’t hear the expected chanting of students trying to egg on whoever was in the middle to throw a punch. You slowly walked over to the growing crowd. However, as you got closer you began to feel dread pooling in your stomach. You watched the faces of the kids you spent your whole life with, but they seemed off. They seemed empty.

Shaking your head, you turned around to walk the other way. You didn’t know what was happening within that crowd, and you certainly weren’t keen on finding out.

____

As the days passed by you began to wonder if Jeonghan was a real person or just some made-up name used to create talk amongst the town. You at first figured you’d see him around the school, but as the weekend snuck up on you doubt that he exists began to tug at your mind. You didn’t want to ask around about him, not in a town where everyone knew everyone and asking about a boy might lead to an interrogation at home. But as the saying goes: curiosity killed the cat.

“Do you know anything about the new kid? Yoon Jeonghan?” You asked, trying to seem casual and uninterested. The elderly woman packing up the pastries you had just bought momentarily paused. Your eyes met hers, and you swore you could spot a sort of unease flickering in her eyes at the mention of his name.

“Stay away from him.” She said curtly. Her eyes bore into yours, daring you to ask more questions about this boy. You, left unsatisfied by her answer, accepted the dare.

“Why? He’s only been here for a week. He can’t be that bad.” You turned your gaze back to the wallet in your hand. Fishing out the amount you owed, you place the bills and coins on the counter. The woman slid the payment across the counter, back in your direction.

“It’s free today as a thank you to your parents.” She said, handing you the package of pastries. You accepted the package and placed the currency back into your wallet. As you turned to leave the little shop, you heard the woman call out to you, “Be careful!” Her request that you be careful sounded desperate, like she knew something you didn’t. You raised your hand in a short wave before taking your leave and stepping out into the chilly autumn air.

You pulled your coat tighter against your body in an attempt to block the damp air from reaching your body. Despite living in the town your entire life, you never grew used to the damp weather. In your eyes, the town always appeared sad and sleepy with clouds looming overhead nearly everyday. The same people you grew up seeing everyday didn’t look any different either. You supposed the town was doomed to always look gloomy, no matter if there was a new resident or not.

You walked slowly along the sparsely populated streets. You were in no rush to return home, and the slower you walked the higher your chance of bumping into Jeonghan. A part of you felt gross that you were willing to go through all of this trouble to meet this boy, but you couldn’t help yourself. Within a week, he had most of the town wrapped around his finger.

However, you kept thinking back to what the elderly woman told you. You craned your head back towards the shop you had left. By now it was already out of view as you had already turned a few corners. Sighing, you turned your head back forward, but it wasn’t enough to keep you from bumping into someone.

“Careful,” his voice was velvety. “Don’t want you getting hurt.” He held your shoulders in his hands, moving you to the side.

“Who are you?” You asked. Your mind felt completely separated from your body as you spoke. Every neuron seemed to fire towards speaking to him despite your mind screaming to continue walking. Your eyes trailed up his body until they landed on his face, immediately sending a wave a dread through you.

“I think you already know the answer to your question.” He smiled. Of course you knew. Everyone knew who he was. Without ever hearing the velvet of his voice, seeing the strangely beautiful features of his face, smelling the sea that seemed to radiate off of him, you still knew. You wished to know who he was, and now that your wish was met you weren’t so sure if that’s really what you wanted.

“You’re Yoon Jeonghan.” Your voice came out no louder than a whisper. His smile widened at the mention of his name. The dread you felt seemed to flow through you more urgently now, as if the mention of his name would bring nothing good.

Jeonghan said nothing as his hands dropped from your shoulders. With a smile still gracing his face, he walked past you. Your eyes stay trained on him until he turned the corner and disappeared behind a building. Once you could no longer see him you slowly began to walk again.

There was something strange about him, you decided, but, along with being seemingly strange, he felt magnetic. You couldn’t help feeling slightly drained as you walked in the opposite direction of him, but maybe you were just tired from the stress that came from school.

____

As time wore on, you noticed Jeonghan more and more. The first time you spotted him he was leaning against the wall in the school hallways, seemingly watching you. You pretended to ignore it, but his gaze burned right into you. The second time you were closing your family’s shop for the night. Your eyes had drifted across the street to meet what you assumed to be his, but the cover of night made it hard to tell. The third time you were waiting to cross the street when he appeared at the other side, also waiting to cross. You kept your eyes forward, but as you passed him you couldn’t help but sneak a peek at his smirking face. The fourth time -- or the current encounter -- you found him at the pier, his legs dangling off the edge as he sat on the rickety wood.

“You shouldn’t be skipping school.” You said, walking closer to him. Jeonghan’s lips tugged up into his usual smile, but it didn’t look the same. He turned to face you as you took a seat next to him.

“Shouldn’t you be listening to your own advice?” His voice sounded tired. You shrugged silently, keeping your eyes fixated on the waves. You felt some invisible force tugging at you, coaxing you to look at him. You had learned quickly enough to associate his eyes with the overwhelming feeling of dread that would course through you.

“The pier is an odd place to visit when you’re skipping. Most kids would go home.”

“I guess I just missed the ocean.” He said. Finally giving into the tug, you looked over at him. You couldn’t help staring at him. It would probably be unnatural if you didn’t stare, but as you finally allowed yourself to study his face you noticed the bags under his eyes, the paleness of his skin, the smile lines resting at the corners of his mouth. He wasn’t as perfect as you assumed he would be.

When Jeonghan turned to meet your eyes you expected anything but the feeling of relaxation to pass through you. You tried feeling unsettled by the sudden change in mood, but you couldn’t help yourself. You felt drawn to Jeonghan in a way that you didn’t like. The same way that the polar ends of magnets attract each other.

The warning the elderly woman gave you repeated in your mind. Stay away from him. Stay away from him. Stay away from him. That was a lot easier said than done. You noticed you were leaning into him the moment his lips met yours. The feeling of his lips molding against yours sent a new wave of calm through you. You felt untouchable; like you were in your own bubble and nothing could get to you.

Jeonghan let his lips trail away from yours to follow along your jaw and down your neck. The plush skin at your throat purpled easily as he worked it between his lips. Your hands tangled into his hair, stringing the soft locks through your fingers.

“We shouldn’t,” he pulled away from you, letting his lips hover over the mark blooming on your neck. “Not in public at least.”

You pulled away from Jeonghan as the feeling of dread began to form in the pit of your stomach. Shakily, you began to stand up. You didn’t like the way Jeonghan looked at you. You didn’t like the way you felt after seeing the longing  in his eyes. He didn’t reach out for you or say anything as you slowly backed away from him. He didn’t do anything once you turned around and ran. He stayed still, wondering if it was truly worth it. Wondering if he truly wanted to be another person’s demise.

You ran for as long as you were able to, only stopping once you started to stumble. You looked around to gauge where you were in town. Main Street. I’m on Main Street, you thought. You slowly started to walk again, heading in the direction of the elderly woman’s shop. Her warning once again rang through your head. You needed to know who -- or more so what -- he was.

“Welcome!” She greeted from somewhere in the back as the chimes above the door were knocked. Quickly, she returned to the front of her shop, though her smile faded once you came into view. “What are you doing here?”

“What is he?” You asked, completely ignoring her question. She looked you up and down until her eyes landed on the purple mark on your neck.

“What have you done?” She whispered, closing the distance between the two of you. Her fingers felt cold as they prodded against the mark on your neck. You could see the growing frustration in her face the longer she looked at what he had done to your neck. “Have your parents never told you the stories?”

“What stories?” You asked. You had heard plenty of stories from your parents, but you always played them off as myths used to scare you into behaving.

“Every few decades a siren comes to town when they’re close to dying. While they’re posing as people, they drain the energy of those around them until they can attach themselves to someone’s energy,” she paused, looking you in the eye. “And I think you can guess what happens to the person they attach themselves too.”

“Sirens don’t exist.” You mumbled. Your voice sounded unsure, like you were considering the possibility that what the elderly woman was saying could be true.

“He’ll lead you to a watery grave if you don’t get some sense into you.” She said harshly. Absentmindedly, you nodded. The longer you thought about it the more it made sense. Everytime you came into contact with him you felt drained and a feeling of dread filled you, but when you kissed him you felt none of that. “Go home, and stay away from that boy.”

You blankly stared at the floor as she turned you towards the door, giving you a little push. You felt conflicted. You were supposed to fear Jeonghan, but instead you were being pulled in his direction. But his direction could lead to your inevitable end.

____

The weeks you spent away from Jeonghan proved to be no help when you saw him standing across the street from your home. Upon seeing him, feelings of want flooded you. But so did memories of the warnings you got to stay away from him. Unfortunately your want for him outweighed the danger he posed to you, and in no time you were standing in front of him on the sidewalk.

“You shouldn’t have come out.” Jeonghan said. Hearing the words leave his lips felt like a slap in the face, but you were too far drowned in the thought of him to care. From the look in your eyes he knew he could’ve led you to the ocean right then and there. He’d be lying if he denied considering it.

“I know what you are.” You said in a hushed tone. Jeonghan smiled, though it appeared forced. He wondered how long it would take before you found out he was a siren, but it also confused him. It confused him because in the past when others found out he was a siren they’d run from him whereas you willingly came to him.

“Then you know I’m supposed to drown you.” You nodded. You were well aware that he would use to make his life longer. You found it wonderfully tragic. In exchange for the feeling of pure bliss when his lips would meet yours you’d give him your life. “Then you should also know that I won’t drown you.”

The irony of it all would’ve been enough to kill you. “Why?” You asked.

“Look at you, so willing to give your life to me. For what? A kiss or two?” Jeonghan laughed bitterly, raising his hand to run it through your hair. Your motives sounded pathetic coming from him. This must be what an addiction feels like, you thought. “Or maybe you’re hoping I know of ways to turn people into sirens. You’ve heard the tales of people turning into sirens, haven’t you? Is that what you want?”

You shook your head, “No. I just want you.” The desperation in your voice hurt him. His need for self-preservation screamed to accept you, to take you to the ocean and drown you. Jeonghan dropped his hand from your hair. “What’s wrong?” You asked quietly.

“Everything,” he whispered. “Absolutely everything.” Jeonghan let out a shaky breath as he began walking past you. Every bone in his body screamed at him to turn around. It would’ve been so easy. Just one kiss and he would’ve had you in the water. Just one kiss and he’d be alive for who knows how many more decades.

You watched as Jeonghan got smaller in the distance. You considered following him, seeing as he was clearly headed in the direction of the ocean, but you stayed put in the same place he left you. You weren’t too far gone in your want for him to recognize that you weren’t in love with him. You wanted him enough to die for him, but it wasn’t love. It would’ve never been love.

“What have you done to me?” You mumbled as a feeling of emptiness replaced the want. He was gone, and he left you craving more.

[baenxietydad]

16th Anniversary Of The Best Day Ever || The Baes

Summary: Nemo’s 16th birthday!!!

Dated: October 9th, 2019

@justkeepdancing-nemo​

MARLIN

Best day of the year, best day of the year! October 9th was Mu-yeol’s favorite holiday. Not because of Ecuadorian Independence Day, or Leif Erikson Day, but because it was the 16th Anniversary of the Best Day of His Life. Or, if you want to be boring, Nam-min’s 16th birthday. 

He didn’t care for his own birthday, but his son’s was special. On October 9th, 2003, Nam-min came into the world a little over a month early, giving his parents a scare, but they both immediately adored him. He was the child they tried for three years just to conceive, and from his first breath was their entire world. Now with just himself, Mu-yeol had to love him enough for two people. 

And he did. He sometimes got all choked up just thinking about how much he loved his son and how wonderful and beautiful his baby boy had become. 

He loved him so damn much. That’s why he treated his birthday like a national holiday. 

Like every year he got up early to make seaweed soup and to place his presents on the table. Once that was ready, he crept into Nemo’s room and slipped under his covers for the yearly birthday waking up ritual. 

“Nam-min ah. Nam-miiiin, wake up,” he said gently as he pulled Nemo in for snuggles. He played with his hair as he kept coaxing him awake. “Wake up, you know what day it is. It’s the best day! It’s your birthday! My baby is sixteen already.”

“Wake up,” Mu-yeol said, kissing his forehead and snuggling him closer. “So I can annoy you with my love.”

NEMO: 

Nemo had always loved his birthday. A whole day dedicated to him? Who wouldn’t love that? But he loved it not so much because he got presents, or because of yummy seaweed soup, or the nut-cake, or the fact he got to decide everything that happened on his birthday--

He loved it cuz Appa loved it. He loved it cuz Appa was always in such a good mood. No nightmares, no grouchiness, no extra paranoia. Just him, just Appa. 

And this year, his birthday meant the end of Nemo’s grounding. So it was the best day ever.

Despite that, Nemo was solid as a rock in bed that morning, his covers pulled over his head. It’d started gettin’ chilly like it always did, and a little chill always made it harder to get up in the mornings, even for someone like Nemo who was gogogo. His toes curled under his blankets and he fisted the blanket too, holding it tighter at the creaking of his door. Oooo, there’s Appa, he thought to himself, barely stifling a smile, as he pretended to still be sleeping deeply.

Part of that was cuz….well-- no sixteen-year-old should want cuddles from his Appa.

But Nemo still did. 

So he pretended. And when Appa dragged him close, he played at a groan and wiggled half-heartedly. “Appaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa,” he groaned with sleepiness. “Wahhhhh, gerroff!” he wiggled more.

MARLIN

“Nope, not allowed. It’s the sixteenth anniversary of the best day of my life, so that’s forbidden.” Mu-yeol said to letting go of Nemo. 

He carded his fingers through Nemo’s hair and smiled down at him all gross and affectionate as Nemo refused to open his eyes. Rude— how are they going to celebrate his birthday if he’s asleep? Ah, kids. Occasionally he’d press another soft kiss to the top of his head. 

“Do you want to skip school for your birthday?” He asked quietly as he continued to play with Nemo’s hair. “Or do you want to be stuck hanging out with your dumb embarrassing dad one of your weekend days instead?”

Playfully, he poked Nemo’s side where he was ticklish. 

NEMO: 

Skip school? He could do that?!

Nemo’s eyes finally opened, blinking all the tired outta them as he looked up at his dad incredulously, like he was waitin’ for him to change his mind. Plus, didn’t his Appa have to work? It was Grow-day, not to mention still a couple of days before the Full Moon Dance, which meant the Hollow fluttered, flittered, twittered, and buzzed with all sorts of activity. Though Nemo didn’t have talent class this week cuz all the fast-flying talents were getting ready for the Windy Day Race on October 13. 

So… he didn’t have talent class. And he didn’t have dance on Wednesdays either…

Unless!

“Wh-- this isn’t a test, is it?” he squinted at his Appa suspiciously. “I can actually skip school if I want?”

MARLIN

“아니 (ani). I wouldn’t set a trap. Mm, not on your birthday anyway. 그냥 (keunyang)...I just wanted to hangout with you on your birthday like we always do. And since you’re in school now that would take up your entire day.” And anyway, Mu-yeol knew he wouldn’t be in this good of a mood come the weekend. It was Nemo’s birthday not his birthweek that always (almost) restores him to him old self. 

He smiled down at Nemo in his arms as he narrowed his eyes at him. “You can skip school. Only when I offer it though; if I get a call you’re absent without my permission you’re gonna die.”

Mu-yeol punctuated the death threat with his warmest smile. 

“Aigoo, my baby’s growing up. You won’t need me anymore pretty soon.”

 It was a bittersweet thought. Nam-min not needing him anymore meant he wouldn’t have anything left to silence the worst thoughts in the back of his brain; live to take care of Nam-min didn’t apply once his baby boy became an adult, and it was the only thing keeping him breathing most days. It was the only thing that was enough and that terrified him. 

Most days, anyway, it terrified him. But on October 9th, nothing ever mattered but the fact that X number of years ago, his son was born on that day, and it was the one truly good day of the year. 

“You were so small.” He sighed, patting the space between his shoulder blades. “You came earlier than we thought, you dramatic jerk.”

NEMO: 

Wow, he really was gonna get to miss school. 

Which meant-- his friends.

Nemo hadn’t expected the sharp, quick stab of yearning, nor what followed after: guilt. Cuz he obviously couldn’t tell Appa that maybe he did wanna go to school after all. First of all, that was stupid. What kid wanted to go to school on his birthday? Sure, he’d get to see his mates and they’d all tell him happy birthday, but he’d only get a couple of minutes before class, and then lunch, and then that was really all…and in between, he’d sit through awful French and confusing History and didn’t he have a quiz in English which he didn’t study for? 

And wasn’t his birthday kinda his and Appa’s...thing? 

Yeah.

Nemo swallowed down that feeling then, cuz goin’ to school just wasn’t a real option, and did what he did every year as Marlin started in on his tirade. He grooooooooaned and wiggled some more, finally pushing Marlin off and sitting up. “Heeeeere we go again, next you’ll tell me about Eomma counting all my fingers and toes and fighting the healing-talents to hold me just five more minutes--” and though he was acting annoyed at the Same Old Story, the one Marlin told Every Single Year, he was grinning. 

Cuz he liked it. He wanted to hear it. 

MARLIN

“And if I do?” Mu-yeol challenged, reaching up to poke Nemo’s forehead. 

He hummed and sat up next to Nemo, wincing as sunlight got him right in the eyeballs. “She punched one of them, you know. Your mother was scary and always ready to...throw hands? Is that what it is? Especially when it was about you.”

He didn’t tell him how she had to take an exam at university the day after giving birth— and yes, she did go and ace that exam, and when her professor found out he scolded Mu-yeol for ‘letting your wife do that.’ But So-yeon did whatever the hell So-yeon wanted to do, Always. There was no allowing, forbidding, or talking her out of anything. She was determined to finish her masters’ on time to shut up all of the men in the program who talked about how STEM was no place for a wife and mother and said she should drop out and raise her child. 

Not for the first time, he wanted to tell him. 

“She always said having you was the best decision we ever made.” He said instead. “So the verdict on skipping school? If you really want to go we can do your birthday on Sunday.”

He hopped out of Nemo’s bed. “There’s seaweed soup ready, with pickled shriiiimps.”

NEMO: 

He only really had a couple of birthdays left before he really would be too old to celebrate with Appa and let him baby Nemo like this. This could even be the last one. Nemo would be well into his apprenticeship when next October swung around, after all. Who knew what his life was gonna be like then? What he’d be training in, what kinda time he’d have? 

Maybe he was already too old for this stuff now but… 

He wanted at least one more. 

So Nemo grinned. “Skipping, definitely!” he rolled out of bed too and then scampered past Appa. “SEAWEED SOOOOOOUP!” He called, giggling. 

MARLIN 

He felt tension he didn’t even know he was holding in his shoulders ease. What a relief it was that his baby hadn’t outgrown him just yet! Even if Nam-min was away from him more this year, he still wanted to hangout with his dad. That was enough. 

“Eat as much as you want,” Mu-yeol said as a laddled out a bowl for Nemo. “You have to eat a lot if you hope to grow any taller.”

NEMO:  Nemo plopped down in his chair, drawing up both his legs so he was criss-cross, then reached for his spoon. Course before he even got a spoonful, he shot a look at Appa, sour as elderberries. Because yeah, Nemo was small-- even for a pixie he was small, and especially for a fast-flying talent. Fast-flyers were usually some of the taller talents around actually, cept for maybe scout talents. Nemo was small the way a pollen-talent fairy was normally small-- or a bee-herding-talent was small. 

“Aish,” he sucked his teeth at his Appa and shook his head. “I’m not that small! I mean, I got long legs y’know,” he added hotly. And that was true. Nemo was nearly all legs, which helped with his lines in dance. (It didn’t do much for fast-flying though.) 

He scooped some soup into his mouth, and then grabbed the bowl and lifted the whole thing to his lips. “Here, I’ll eat the whole thing, so you can’t have any!” 

And he slurped half his bowl down to prove it. 

MARLIN

Mu-yeol playfully stuck his tongue out at Nam-min as he slid him a cup of elderflower juice. “It's not your fault, your mother’s human-size height was only 162 cm. She was the tiniest fast-flying fairy in both Hollows we’d lived in. Blame her for those genes.”

He barely stifled a snort as Nemo slurped his soup up like it was room temperature water and not hot soup.

“알았어, 알았어 (arasseo, arasseo). Go ahead, eo? I’m full watching you eat anyway.” He said, though he quickly ate a few spoonfuls himself in case Nemo swiped his bowl. Because he would. 

“What’s on the birthday festivities agenda?” Mu-yeol asked, spooning some kimchi onto some rice. “We can do whatever you want except hard drugs. Cocaine might be negotiable-- no, wait. That’s the last thing you need.”

NEMO: 

First, Nemo just gargled through his soup, still slurping it down. It really was kinda too hot to do so, but Nemo had already started so it meant he had to commit to it. And commit he did, until it was all done and he let out an “Ahhhhh,” plopping his bowl down and smirking at Appa. He said he’d do it. And Nemo could never resist a challenge. 

He rolled his eyes next though. “Appa, you’re really not funny,” he told him, shaking his head. Appa and his dad jokes. “Mmmm can we…. Oooooh, Appa, can we go dragonfly racing? Please. Pleeeeeeeeeeease, it’s my birthday! I’m 16, that’s plenty old enough!”  

Dragonfly racing was, of course, when fairies skittered across the Kohaku River on the back of dragonflies. Appa always forbid Nemo because dragonflies could be a bit, er, moody-- prone to 360-degree spins, or dipping real close to the water. He’d always been terrified Nemo would fall off and drown. 

Why was Nemo even asking? Well! He asked at least once a year, and a 16th birthday felt like a good time when Appa might not be able to say no. 

“We can go toooogetheer,” Nemo sing-songed. 

MARLIN

“Watch your mouth before I glue it shut, you little brat,” Mu-yeol said in response to being told he wasn’t a comedic genius, of course while pinching Nemo’s cheek while calling him a little brat. “What’s the number one lesson of life? Always laugh when your dad, your employer, or father-in-law makes a joke.”

Another spoonful of soup had almost made it to his mouth when Nemo made his birthday proposal, and the spoon fell from his hand, landing in the bowl with a plonk! Dragonfly racing!? Let him repeat, DRAGONFLY RACING!?!?

Was he trying to make sure this was his last birthday?

Mu-yeol clasped his hands in his lap to keep from wildly gesturing. In the spirit of Nemo’s birthday, he wasn’t going to give an immediate hard no. Today, and today only, he would hear him out about dragonfly racing. Maybe even say yes, and deal with the panic in his chest the entire time.

He taught Nemo to swim in Atlantis Lake in human size, without wings that couldn’t get wet, of course. Logically he knew that Nemo could probably tread water with wet wings long enough to drift toward an aquatic plant to hold onto until he could be pulled out of the river by a fairy with dry wings. It was still risky.

And yet, at Nemo’s age, Mu-yeol had been dragonfly racing for years. His dongsaeng-dul* would compete with him and the other fairies their age for prizes of anything from found objects teenage fairies used for bartering, to ₩5,000 notes the kids whose parents had human jobs would throw in the prize pot.

*reader’s note: dongsaeng = younger sibling; -dul is a particle to add to make any noun plural 

His last two logical brain cells reminded him that he was much more stupid than Nemo at his age, and that he survived. His father wasn’t half as protective as he was, so of course Nemo would be fine.

The other hundred billion weren’t half as reasonable.

“Nam-min…” before he could say no though, he cleared his throat to stop himself. He was gonna give him a chance, remember? “Only if you can tell me the procedure for if you fall off. Repeat it to me three times, then we will seriously consider it.”

NEMO: 

Appa didn’t say no right away. Whoa.

This was already a win. It was also not completely expected, and so Nemo found himself wide-eyed and leaning forward. “Really?” he responded at first. He had to absorb that Appa hadn’t immediately laughed off the idea like he had done all of Nemo’s life, before patting Nemo on the head and saying something about how hilarious Nemo was with that persistent death wish of his! And did he want to give his dear old Appa a heart attack?!

Maybe sixteen really did make the difference.

Maybe sixteen was going to be his year, after all. 

Nemo swallowed and leaned back, adjusting in his seat and then crackling his knuckles as he prepared to answer Appa’s test. He was pretty sure he knew about the procedures...even if he’d never really gotten to try them out. All the other fast-flying-talents though talked about dragonfly racing all the time (it’s why he wanted to do it so badly.) 

“Number 1--” he held up a finger, “--don’t panic. Number 2, get your head above water and your feet under you, so your wings don’t drag you down. Number 3, tread water in direction of the current toward the shore! Don’t fight the current, cuz you’ll get too tired too fast.” 

That was right...right? Right! 

MARLIN

Mu-yeol watched Nemo carefully as he ran through the DON'T DROWN protocols. Careful to eye him for any signs of bullshitting or hesitation, and satisfied when he found none that his son actually understood how to not drown, he supposed he now had to actually consider dragonfly racing. 

Maybe if he let Nemo do this once, let him have this one thing, he won’t do things like sneaking out with that awful kid Louie. This is exactly why he didn’t want to send Nemo to school, he knew he’d be too preoccupied with looking cool and being popular to actually care about school. He knew he wouldn’t understand that what mattered was finding your group of friends and being cool to them. It was the same for fairies in school, and fairies like Mu-yeol who didn’t go to school. Why couldn’t Nemo be like his mother was and only care what her friends thought of her?

Nemo was like him. Insecure and soft. 

Maybe dragonfly racing and the panic attack he’d be pushing down the entire time would be worth it. Maybe Nemo would take the victory and be satisfied. 

“Good. So...dragonfly racing. Are you sure there’s...nothing else?”

[closetcasefabray]

Blue + Yellow (1 / 2)

@coeurdastronaute’s “colors” soulmates au inspired me to write a different take. thank weird tumblr app crap for the formatting and two parts. still a rather unedited & rushed drabble/fic, but i had to write it and wanted to share so here’s this messy, sappy thing. (forever a sucker for this sort of stuff. also clexa.)

Blue + Yellow

Part 1 / 2

“The leaves are green, Daddy,” you say, skipping through the park on a rare September afternoon your dad has off from work. You don’t think much of your comment, really, because you’re too busy taking in the world now to talk about it, but this simple statement makes him stop in his tracks as you skip ahead.

He clears his throat and picks up his stride again, so you keep skipping along. “Did you learn that in school, hon?”

“Well, yeah,” you say with a roll of your eyes at the memory of tedious flashcard lessons with your classmates, all of you droning back the colors and pairing with an object that color, “but now I don’t have to memorize everything,” you add with pride.

“When did you start seeing colors?” he asks, his voice soft as you take his hand, opting to walk beside him instead. When you look up at him, he’s looking at you with shining eyes, and you feel a hundred nervous butterflies in your stomach, wondering if you should have said something sooner.

“Yesterday morning, just a little,” you say, feeling less worried when your dad gives your hand a little squeeze. “Today it’s all super bright, though.”

“Yesterday at school?”

“Before school, when I woke up? ... I think.” You remember your head hurt at school the day before, and you were tired as soon as you got home from Kids’ Club after school. You don’t remember seeing any colors though, not until the next morning. “Like... some of my cereal was green... and the limes in the fruit bowl!”

″That’s good, Clarke,” your dad says with a bright smile, picking you up into a tight hug. You both growl into your “bear hug” like always.

“So does that mean I’ll meet someone like you or Mommy? Or I’ll fall in love like you and Mommy?” you ask as your dad adjusts his arms to carry you like when you were smaller. You try to remember what your parents told you about seeing colors some day, so you close your eyes to think because what was once mindless, dreary gray is now a loud, growing spectrum of color. 

“It means you’ve already met them.”

“I don’t feel like I’m in love.”

“It just might take time, hon.”

You’re quiet for a moment as you think about this new information. After a few moments of silence, you open your eyes and look at your dad with eyes like yours. “Ewwww, I hope it’s not that boy, Bellamy. I like his sister, Octavia. She’s in my class. But he plays too rough at recess.”

You’ll always remember the sound of your father’s laughter at that, three perfect laugh lines at the corners of his blue eyes. You laugh too, and you feel his deep chuckle rumble in his chest against yours. You wrap your arms around him tighter as you pass under a row of trees on the path, and the green leaves rustling in the wind seem to laugh with you both—everything easy and gentle.

A week passes, and now you can see the colors of the rainbow and everything in-between R.O.Y.G.B.I.V. Your art teacher, Mr. Kane, lets you stay in the art room during Kids’ Club after school. He cleans and prepares lessons while you mix the few paints he has in search of your new favorite color. Because of your immediate gravitation toward art, you parents invest in a paint set. You know they’re expensive and for grown-ups because most paint sets aren’t made for kids; painting is a skill mostly adults learn.

Your parents never seem concerned about their five-year-old having met her soulmate, but you do overhear parts of one hushed argument. Your dad insists on asking other parents at the school, and your mom says something about it making sense “in due time.” They both conclude they’re “old-fashioned,” and you’re not sure what that means, but you hear them kiss and decide to go back to bed.

You know it isn’t common for children to see colors so early and you know you’re the youngest in your small town to have found their soulmate... kind of. Out of curiosity, you start asking your classmates if they see in color too, but they all say no. Some even tease you because grown-ups see colors, and they kiss and have coodies.

You learn to be more subtle about it after.

It’s a Friday, so your mom picks you up to go to the park instead of Kids’ Club. She’ll work late, overnight into Saturday evening, sometimes well past Sunday afternoon, so she spends the time she can with you.

It’s been almost a month since you started school and began seeing the world in color. It makes you tired, trying to explain it and understand it. You're pretty sure you’ve learned all you need to know as a five-year-old and no one in school sees what you do, so you dramatically asked your dad, “What’s the point?” and threw yourself back onto your bed when he tried to get you up for school this past Monday. He had to explain that school lasts basically forever, but some day you can go to a grown-up school and just study art if you want, “if you work at it.” So you fill your nights and weekends with coloring and drawing and painting, which is much more exciting than learning math and the alphabet.

You played tag for a bit with Wells and Octavia, but they had to go home and right now you’re happy sitting at a picnic table with your crayons and activity book. Your mom talks with another mother nearby, waving and coming over to see what you’re coloring every so often. Crayons aren’t very fun; they don’t blend well and they’re made cheap and in weird hues that starkly contrast each other for kids who only see in greys, but they’re all you have since your mom won’t let you bring your paint set or special paper and brushes anywhere but art class or home.

“What are you doing?” a voice asks.

"Coloring,” you say, finishing the last petal of a sunflower. “Do you wanna color with me?” You look up and you remember her from a few weeks ago. You remember her pretty face and dark hair and the same skirt she had on for school. Now you can see her skirt is charcoal—boring and almost exactly the same as before—but her hair is brown, almost auburn in the early evening sunlight. Most of all, you notice her eyes—green like those laughing leaves.

“I’m not very good,” the girl says timidly.

You’re used to this; most kids like tracing or doodling because coloring is like schoolwork—you have to memorize everything, like, “the sky is blue, the sun is yellow, the grass is green.” You decide the grass nearby is a much uglier green than you see in this other girl’s eyes.

“That’s okay,” you say, scooting over to make room on the bench. “I can help.”

She takes off her backpack to sit at the picnic table. “Your name is Clarke, right?” she asks as she settles beside you.

You nod.

“I’m Lexa,” she says to remind you.

You appreciate it because you didn’t remember it. You feel your cheeks get warm and repeat Lexa in your head over and over so you’ll remember for next time. You notice she kept on her school skirt but changed out of the white polo private school kids wear, opting for a soft-yellow t-shirt with a sun in sunglasses on it. “You go to St. Mary’s, don’t you?” 

“Mhm.” Lexa picks up a crayon and fiddles with it nervously as she looks at it for a moment.

“You use that one for the sky,” you say, ripping out a page from your activity book for her to color—a sailboat on the water with the sun in the sky.

″I know,” she replies quietly, beginning to color the sky, careful not to get blue in the lines of the sun or sailboat.

“Sorry,” you say, unsure if you should ask if she knows her colors from school or sees them like you. Instead you decide to say, “I know you from that coffee place.“

“Mhm.”

“Our moms were sleepy and getting coffee before school.”

“She’s not my mom,” Lexa says. She doesn’t sound upset, but she keeps her attention focused on coloring the sky.

“Oh, well she was a nice lady,” you say with a shrug, “and you were in your uniform. Is it weird wearing a uniform?”

“No, but I can get ready for school real fast.”

“Hm... It just seems kind of boring to me.”

Lexa laughs and you smile at the sound and sight of her grin. “It is,” she agrees.

You chew your lip nervously before asking, “What’s your favorite color?”

Lexa looks at the half-colored paper before turning toward you to sit criss-cross applesauce. She tilts her head and hums as she thinks for a moment. “Blue... or yellow. I haven’t decided. What’s yours?”

“Blue plus yellow.”

“Equals green. Like pine trees.”

“What are pine trees?”

“Christmas trees but without the lights and stuff hanging on them.”

“Oh, yeah! I like that green. I like all kinds of green!”

“Lexa,” a voice calls, interrupting your smiles and conversation, “we have to go back to the house to pack.” A girl appears beside the table and picks up Lexa’s backpack. She looks much older and cooler than you, and also like she could scare Bellamy. Before you can say a word, the girl huffs and starts walking off.

“Sorry. That’s my sister. I’ve gotta go,” Lexa says, setting down her crayon. “Thanks for letting me color with you.”

You pout and you think your heart knows what’s happening more than you have words for. “Will you be here tomorrow?”

“Let’s go, Lexa,” the other girl demands; despite the frustration in her voice, she mostly seems sad.

Lexa shakes her head. “Today was my last day at St. Mary’s. We’re moving to New York City tomorrow with my new family.”

“Oh...” the sound seems to fall out of your chest. “I’ll see you again some day though,” you manage with a smile. “My dad and Mr. Kane say if I work hard enough and paint, one day I could make art in a city or go to school there.”

Lexa smiles back. “OK.”

“You want your coloring?” you ask, offering her the unfinished page.

“You keep it. Paint something yellow or blue for me when you come to New York. Like a sunset or your hair... or your eyes. I like your eyes,” she pauses before adding, “Yeah, I think blue is my favorite. but yellow is my second favorite.”

“OK, I promise.”

“See you later, Clarke.”

You wave goodbye and some minutes later, when you’re by yourself and can’t seem to color because the sunset looks too golden, your mom comes over to check on you. “Did you make a friend, Clarke?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

Part 2 / 2

[mrkwonandmrchoibabygirl]

BARED TO HIM- SEUNGRI AU PT.6

Genre:Fluff/Smut/Angst

Rated:NC-17

Pairing: Seungri x Reader

Wordcount: 4,939

Part.5 Part.6

Masterlist

Please let me hnow in my ask box what do you think about the chapter or story in general same for 50 shades of kwon ji yong,THANKS!

“Hey, Dad. I caught you.” I adjusted my grip on the phone receiver and pulled up a stool at the breakfast bar. I missed my father. For the last four years we’d lived close enough to see each other at least once a week. Now his home in Oceanside was the entire country away. “How are you?” He lowered the volume on the television. “Better, now that you’ve called. How was your first week at work?”

I went over my days from Monday through Friday, skipping over all the Seunghyun parts. “I really like my boss, Mark,” I finished. “And the vibe of the agency is very energetic and kind of quirky. I’m happy going to work every day, and I’m bummed when it’s time to go home.” “I hope it stays that way. But you need to make sure you have some downtime, too. Go out, be young, have fun. But not too much fun.” “Yeah, I had a little too much last night. Hae and I went clubbing, and I woke up with a mean hangover.” “Shit, don’t tell me that.” He groaned. “Some nights I wake up in a cold sweat thinking about you in New York. I get through it by telling myself you’re too smart to take chances, thanks to two parents who’ve drilled safety rules into your DNA.” “Which is true,” I said, laughing. “That reminds me… I’m going to start Krav Maga training.” “Really?” There was a thoughtful pause. “One of the guys on the force is big on it. Maybe I’ll check it out and we can compare notes when I come out to visit you.” “You’re coming to New York?” I couldn’t hide my excitement. “Oh, Dad, I’d love it if you would. As much as I miss SoCal, Manhattan is really awesome. I think you’ll like it.” “I’d like anyplace in the world as long as you’re there.” He waited a beat, then asked, “How’s your mom?” “Well…she’s Mom. Beautiful, charming, and obsessive-compulsive.” My chest hurt and I rubbed at it. I thought my dad might still love my mom. He’d never married. That was one of the reasons I never told him about what happened to me. As a cop, he would’ve insisted on pressing charges and the scandal would have destroyed my mother. I also worried that he’d lose respect for her or even blame her, and it hadn’t been her fault. As soon as she’d found out what her stepson was doing to me, she’d left a husband she was happy with and filed for divorce. I kept talking, waving at Hae as he came rushing in with a little blue Tiffany & Co. bag. “We had a spa day today. It was a fun way to cap off the week.” I could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “I’m glad you two are managing to spend time together. What are your plans for the rest of the weekend?” I hedged on the subject of the charity event, knowing the whole red carpet business and astronomicallypriced dinner seats would just highlight the gap between my parents’ lives. “Hae and I are going out to eat, and then I plan on staying in tomorrow. Sleeping in late, hanging out in my pajamas all day, maybe some movies and food delivery of some sort. A little vegetating before a new work week kicks off.” “Sounds like heaven to me. I may copy you when my next day off rolls around.” Glancing at the clock, I saw it was creeping past six. “I have to get ready now. Be careful at work, okay? I worry about you, too.” “Will do. Bye, baby.” The familiar sign-off had me missing him so much my throat hurt. “Oh, wait! I’m getting a new cell phone. I’ll text you the number as soon as I have it.” “Again? You just got a new one when you moved.” “Long, boring story.” “Hmm…Don’t put it off. They’re good for safety as well as playing Angry Birds.” “I’m over that game!” I laughed and warmth spread through me to hear him laughing, too. “I’ll call you in a few days. Be good.” “That’s my line.” We hung up. I sat for a few moments in the ensuing silence, feeling like everything was right in my world, which never lasted long. I brooded on that for minute; then Cary cranked up Hinder on his bedroom stereo and that kicked my butt into gear. I hurried to my room to get ready for a night with Seunghyun.

“Necklace or no necklace?” I asked Hae, when he came into my bedroom looking seriously amazing. Dressed in his new Brioni tux, he was both debonair and dashing, and certain to attract attention. “Hmm.” His head tilted to the side as he studied me. “Hold it up again.” I lifted the choker of gold coins to my throat. The dress my mom had sent was fire engine red and styled for a Grecian goddess. It hung on one shoulder, cut diagonally across my cleavage, had ruching to the hip, and then split at my right upper thigh all the way down my leg. There was no back to speak of, aside from a slender strip of rhinestones that connected one side to the other to keep the front from falling off. Otherwise, the back was bared to just above the crack of my buttocks in a racy V-cut. “Forget the necklace,” he said. “I was leaning toward gold chandeliers, but now I’m thinking diamond hoops. The biggest ones you’ve got.” “What? Really?” I frowned at our reflections in my cheval mirror, watching as he moved to my jewelry box and dug through it. “These.” He brought them to me and I eyed the twoinch hoops my mother had given me for my eighteenth birthday. “Trust me,Y/N. Try ’em on.” I did and found he was right. It was a very different look from the gold choker, less glam and more edgy sensuality. And the earrings went well with the diamond anklet on my right leg that I’d never think of the same way again after Seunghyun’s comment. With my hair swept off my face into a cascade of thick, deliberately messy curls, I had a just-screwed look that was complemented by smoky eye shadow and glossy nude lips. “What would I do without you, Hae?” “Baby girl”—he set his hands on my shoulders and pressed his cheek to mine—“you’ll never find out.” “You look awesome, by the way.” “Don’t I?” He winked and stepped back, showing off. In his own way, Hae could give Seunghyun a run for his money…er, looks. Hae was more finely featured, almost pretty compared to Seunghyun’s savage beauty, but both were striking men that made you look twice, and then stare in greedy delight. Hae hadn’t been quite so perfect when I met him. He’d been strung out and gaunt, his emerald eyes cloudy and lost. But I’d been drawn to him, going out of my way to sit next to him in group therapy. He’d finally propositioned me crudely, having come to believe the only reason people associated with him was because they wanted to fuck him. It was when I declined, firmly and irrevocably, that we finally connected and became best friends. He was the brother I’d never had. The intercom buzzed and I jumped, making me realize how nervous I was. I looked at Hae. “I forgot to tell the front desk he was coming back.” “I’ll get him.” “Are you going to be okay riding over with Johns and my mom?” “Are you kidding? They love me.” His smile dimmed. “Having second thoughts about going with Lee?” I took a deep breath, remembering where I’d been earlier—on my back in a multi-orgasmic daze. “Not really, no. It’s just that everything’s happening so fast and going better than I expected or realized I wanted…” “You’re wondering what the catch is.” Reaching out, he tapped my nose with his fingertip. “He’s the catch, Y/N. And you landed him. Enjoy yourself.” “I’m trying.” I was grateful that Hae understood me and the way my mind worked. It was just so easy being with him, knowing he could fill in the blanks when I couldn’t explain something. “I researched the hell out of him this morning and printed out the interesting recent stuff. It’s on your desk, if you decide you want to check it out.” I remembered him printing something before we got ready for the spa. Pushing onto my tiptoes, I kissed his cheek. “You’re the best. I love you.” “Back atcha, baby girl.” He headed out. “I’ll head down to the front desk and bring him up. Take your time. He’s ten minutes early.” Smiling, I watched him saunter into the hallway. The door had closed behind him when I moved into the small sitting room attached to my bedroom. On the very impractical escritoire my mother had picked out, I found a folder filled with articles and printed images. I settled into the chair and got lost in Lee Seunghyun’s history. It was like watching a train wreck to read that he was the son of LEE Jinyoung, former chairman of an investment securities firm later found to be a front for a massive Ponzi scheme. Seunghyun was just five years old when his dad committed suicide with a gunshot to the head rather than face prison time. Oh, Seunghyun. I tried to picture him that young and imagined a handsome dark-haired boy with beautiful blue eyes filled with terrible confusion and sadness. The image broke my heart. How devastating his father’s suicide—and the circumstances around it— must have been, for both him and his mother. The stress and strain at such a difficult time would’ve been enormous, especially for a child of that age. His mother went on to marry Christopher Vidal, a music executive, and had two more children, Christopher Vidal Jr. and Ireland Vidal, but it seemed a larger family and financial security had come too late to help Seunghyun stabilize after such a huge shakeup. He was too closed off not to bear some painful emotional scars. With a critical and curious eye, I studied the women who’d been photographed with Seunghyun and thought about his approach to dating, socializing, and sex. I saw that my mom had been right—they were all brunettes. The woman who appeared with him most often bore the hallmarks of a Hispanic heritage. She was taller than me, willowy rather than curvy. “Magdalene Perez,” I murmured, grudgingly admitting that she was a stunner. Her posture had the kind of flamboyant confidence that I admired. “Okay, it’s been long enough,” Hae interrupted with a soft note of amusement. He filled the doorway to my sitting room, leaning insolently into the doorjamb. “Really?” I’d been so absorbed; I hadn’t realized how much time had passed. “I would guess you’re about a minute away from him coming to find you. He’s barely restraining himself.” I shut the folder and stood. “Interesting reading, isn’t it?” “Very.” How had Seunghyun’s father—or more specifically, his father’s suicide—influenced his life? I knew all the answers I wanted were waiting for me in the next room. Leaving my bedroom, I took the hallway to the living room. I paused on the threshold, my gaze riveted to Seunghyun’s back as he stood in front of the windows and looked out at the city. My heart rate kicked up. His reflection revealed a contemplative mood. His gaze was unfocused and his mouth grim. His crossed arms betrayed an inherent unease, as if he was out of his element. He looked remote and removed, a man who was inherently alone. He sensed my presence or maybe he felt my yearning. He pivoted; then went very still. I took the opportunity to drink him in, my gaze sliding all over him. He looked every inch the powerful magnate. So sensually handsome my eyes burned just from looking at him. The rakish fall of black hair around his face made my fingers flex with the urge to touch it. And the way he looked at me…my pulse leaped. “Y/N.” He came toward me, his stride graceful and strong. He caught up my hand and lifted it to his mouth. His gaze was intense—intensely hot, intensely focused. The feel of his lips against my skin sent goose bumps racing up my arm and stirred memories of that sinful mouth on other parts of my body. I was instantly aroused. “Hi.” Amusement warmed his eyes. “Hi, yourself. You look amazing. I can’t wait to show you off.” I breathed through the delight I felt at the compliment. “Let’s hope I can do you justice.” A slight frown knit the space between his brows. “Do you have everything you need?” Hae appeared beside me, carrying my black velvet shawl and opera length gloves. “Here you go. I tucked your gloss into your clutch.” “You’re the best, Hae.” He winked at me—which told me he’d seen the condoms I had tucked into the small interior pocket. “I’ll head down with you two.” Seunghyun took the shawl from Hae and draped it over my shoulders. He pulled my hair out from underneath it and the feel of his hands at my neck so distracted me, I barely paid attention when Hae pushed my gloves into my hands. The elevator ride to the lobby was an exercise in surviving acute sexual tension. Not that Hae seemed to notice. He was on my left with both hands in his pockets, whistling. Seunghyun, on the other hand, was a tremendous force on the other side of me. Although he didn’t move or make a sound, I could feel the edgy energy radiating from him. My skin tingled from the magnetic pull between us, and my breath came short and fast. I was relieved when the doors opened and freed us from the enclosed space. Two women stood waiting to get on. Their jaws dropped when they saw Seunghyun and Hae, and that lightened my mood and made me smile. “Ladies,” Hae greeted them, with a smile that really wasn’t fair. I could almost see their brain cells misfiring. In contrast, Seunghyun gave a curt nod and led me out with a hand at the small of my back, skin to skin. The contact was electric, sending heat pouring through me. I squeezed Hae’s hand. “Save a dance for me.” “Always. See you in a bit.” A limousine was waiting at the curb, and the driver opened the door when Seunghyun and I stepped outside. I slid across the bench seat to the opposite side and adjusted my gown. When Seunghyun settled beside me and the door shut, I became highly conscious of how good he smelled. I breathed him in, telling myself to relax and enjoy his company. He took my hand and ran his fingertips over the palm, the simple touch sparking a fierce lust. I shrugged off my shawl, feeling too hot to wear it. “Y/N.” He hit a button and the privacy glass behind the driver began to slide up. The next moment I was tugged across his lap and his mouth was on mine, kissing me fiercely. I did what I’d wanted to do since I saw him in my living room: I shoved my hands in his hair and kissed him back. I loved the way he kissed me, as if he had to, as if he’d go crazy if he didn’t and had nearly waited too long. I sucked on his tongue, having learned how much he liked it, having learned how much I liked it, how much it made me want to suck him elsewhere with the same eagerness. His hands were sliding over my bare back and I moaned, feeling the prod of his erection against my hip. I shifted, moving to straddle him, shoving the skirt of my gown out of the way and making a mental note to thank my mom for the dress—which had such a convenient slit. With my knees on either side of his hips, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and deepened the kiss. I licked into his mouth, nibbled on his lower lip, stroked my tongue along his… Seunghyun gripped my waist and pushed me away. He leaned into the seat back, his neck arched to look up at my face, his chest heaving. “What are you doing to me?” I ran my hands down his chest through his dress shirt, feeling the unforgiving hardness of his muscles. My fingers traced the ridges of his abdomen, my mind forming a picture of how he might look naked. “I’m touching you. Enjoying the hell out of you. I want you, Seunghyun .” He caught my wrists, stilling my movements. “Later. We’re in the middle of Manhattan.” “No one can see us.” “That’s not the point. It’s not the time or place to start something we can’t finish for hours. I’m losing my mind already from this afternoon.” “So let’s make sure we finish it now.” His grip tightened painfully. “We can’t do that here.” “Why not?” Then a surprising thought struck me. “Haven’t you ever had sex in a limo?” “No.” His jaw hardened. “Have you?” Looking away without answering, I saw the traffic and pedestrians surging around us. We were only inches away from hundreds of people, but the dark glass concealed us and made me feel reckless. I wanted to please him. I wanted to know I was capable of reaching into Lee Seunghyun , and there was nothing to stop me but him. I rocked my hips against him, stroking myself with the hard length of his cock. His breath hissed out between clenched teeth. “I need you, Seunghyun ,” I said breathlessly, inhaling his scent, which was richer now that he was aroused. I thought I might be slightly intoxicated, just from the enticing smell of his skin. “You drive me crazy.” He released my wrists and cupped my face, his lips pressing hard against mine. I reached for the fly of his slacks, freeing the two buttons to access the concealed zipper. He tensed. “I need this,” I whispered against his lips. “Give me this.” He didn’t relax, but he made no further attempts to stop me either. When he fell heavily into my palms, he groaned, the sound both pained and erotic. I squeezed him gently, my touch deliberately tender as I sized him with my hands. He was so hard, like stone, and hot. I slid both of my fists up his length from root to tip, my breath catching when he quivered beneath me. Seunghyun gripped my thighs, his hands sliding upward beneath the edges of my dress until his thumbs found the red lace of my thong. “Your cunt is so sweet,” he murmured into my mouth. “I want to spread you out and lick you ’til you beg for my cock.” “I’ll beg now, if you want.” I stroked him with one hand and reached for my clutch with the other, snapping it open to grab a condom. One of his thumbs slid beneath the edge of my panties, the pad sliding through the slickness of my desire. “I’ve barely touched you,” he whispered, his eyes glittering up at me in the shadows of the backseat, “and you’re ready for me.” “I can’t help it.” “I don’t want you to help it.” He pushed his thumb inside me, biting his lower lip when I clenched helplessly around him. “It wouldn’t be fair when I can’t stop what you do to me.” I ripped the foil packet open with my teeth and held it out to him with the ring of the condom protruding from the tear. “I’m not good with these.” His hand curled around mine. “I’m breaking all my rules with you.” The seriousness of his low tone sent a burst of warmth and confidence through me. “Rules are made to be broken.” I saw his teeth flash white; then he hit a button on the panel beside him and said, “Drive until I say otherwise.” My cheeks heated. Another car’s headlights pierced the dark tinted glass and slid over my face, betraying my embarrassment. “Why, Y/N,” he purred, rolling the condom on deftly. “You’ve seduced me into having sex in my limousine, but blush when I tell my driver I don’t want to be interrupted while you do it to me?” His sudden playfulness made me desperate to have him. Setting my hands on his shoulders for balance, I lifted onto my knees, rising to gain the height I needed to hover over the crown of Seunghyun’s thick cock. His hands fisted at my hips and I heard a snap as he tore my panties away. The abrupt sound and the violent action behind it spurred my desire to a fever pitch. “Go slow,” he ordered hoarsely, lifting his hips to push his pants down farther. His erection brushed between my legs as he moved and I whimpered, so aching and empty, as if the orgasms he’d given me earlier had only deepened my craving rather than appeased it. He tensed when I wrapped my fingers around him and positioned him, tucking the wide crest against the saturated folds of my cleft. The scent of our lust was heavy and humid in the air, a seductive mix of need and pheromones that awakened every cell in my body. My skin was flushed and tingling, my breasts heavy and tender. This is what I’d wanted from the moment I first saw him—to possess him, to climb up his magnificent body and take him deep inside me. “God. Y/N,” he gasped as I lowered onto him, his hands flexing restlessly on my thighs. I closed my eyes, feeling too exposed. I’d wanted intimacy with him and yet this seemed too intimate. We were eye-to-eye, only inches apart, cocooned in a small space with the rest of the world streaming by around us. I could sense his agitation, knew he was feeling as off-center as I was. “You’re so tight.” His gasped words were threaded with a hint of delicious agony. I took more of him, letting him slide deeper. I sucked in a deep breath, feeling exquisitely stretched. “You’re so big.” Pressing his palm flat to my lower belly, he touched my throbbing clit with the pad of his thumb and began to massage it in slow, expertly soft circles. Everything in my core tightened and clenched, sucking him deeper. Opening my eyes, I looked at him from under heavy eyelids. He was so beautiful sprawled beneath me in his elegant tuxedo, his powerful body straining with the primal need to mate. His neck arched, his head pressing hard into the seatback as if he was struggling against invisible bonds. “Ah, Christ,” he bit out, his teeth grinding. “I’m going to come so hard.” The dark promise excited me. Sweat misted my skin. I became so wet and hot that I slid smoothly down the length of his cock until I’d nearly sheathed him. A breathless cry escaped me before I’d taken him to the root. He was so deep I could hardly stand it, forcing me to shift from side to side, trying to ease the unexpected bite of discomfort. But my body didn’t seem to care that he was too big. It was rippling around him, squeezing, trembling on the verge of orgasm. Seunghyun cursed and gripped my hip with his free hand, urging me to lean backward as his chest heaved with frantic breaths. The position altered my descent and I opened, accepting all of him. Immediately his body temperature rose, his torso radiating sultry heat through his clothes. Sweat dotted his upper lip. Leaning forward, I slid my tongue along the sculpted curve, collecting the saltiness with a low murmur of delight. His hips churned impatiently. I lifted carefully, sliding up a few inches before he stopped me with that ferocious grasp on my hip. “Slow,” he warned again, with an authoritative bite that sent lust pulsing through me. I lowered, taking him into me again, feeling an oddly luscious soreness as he pushed just past my limits. Our eyes locked on each other as the pleasure spread from the place where we connected. It struck me then that we were both fully clothed except for the most private and intimate parts of our bodies. I found that excruciatingly carnal, as were the sounds he made, as if the pleasure was as extreme for him as it was for me. Wild for him, I pressed my mouth to his, my fingers gripping the sweat-damp roots of his hair. I kissed him as I rocked my hips, riding the maddening circling of his thumb, feeling the orgasm building with every slide of his long, thick penis into my melting core. I lost my mind somewhere along the way, primitive instinct taking over until my body was completely in charge. I could focus on nothing but the driving urge to fuck, the ferocious need to ride his cock until the tension burst and set me free of this grinding hunger. “It’s so good,” I sobbed, lost to him. “You feel…Ah, God, it’s too good.” Using both hands, Seunghyun commanded my rhythm, tilting me into an angle that had the big crown of his cock rubbing a tender, aching spot inside me. As I tightened and shook, I realized I was going to come from that, just from the expert thrust of him inside me. “ Seunghyun .” He captured me by the nape as the orgasm exploded through me, starting with the ecstatic spasms of my core and radiating outward until I was trembling all over. He watched me fall apart, holding my gaze when I would’ve closed my eyes. Possessed by his stare, I moaned and came harder than I ever had, my body jerking with every pulse of pleasure. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he growled, pounding his hips up at me, yanking my hips down to meet his punishing lunges. He hit the end of me with every deep thrust, battering into me. I could feel him growing harder and thicker. I watched him avidly, needing to see it when he went over the edge for me. His eyes were wild with his need, losing their focus as his control frayed, his gorgeous face ravaged by the brutal race to climax. “Y/N!” He came with an animal sound of feral ecstasy, a snarling release that riveted me with its ferocity. He shook as the orgasm tore into him, his features softening for an instant with an unexpected vulnerability. Cupping his face, I brushed my lips across his, comforting him as the forceful bursts of his gasping breaths struck my cheeks. “ Y/N  .” He wrapped his arms around me and crushed me to him, pressing his damp face into the curve of my neck. I knew just how he felt. Stripped. Laid bare. We stayed like that for a long time, holding each other, absorbing the aftershocks. He turned his head and kissed me softly, the strokes of his tongue into my mouth soothing my ragged emotions. “Wow,” I breathed, shaken. His mouth twitched. “Yeah.” I smiled, feeling dazed and high. Seunghyun brushed the damp tendrils of hair off my temples, his fingertips gliding almost reverently across my face. The way he studied me made my chest hurt. He looked stunned and…grateful, his eyes warm and tender. “I don’t want to break this moment.” Because I could hear it hanging in the air, I filled it in. “But…?” “But I can’t blow off this dinner. I have a speech to give.” “Oh.” The moment was effectively broken. I lifted gingerly off of him, biting my lip at the feel of him slipping wetly out of me. The friction was enough to make me want more. He’d barely softened. “Damn it,” he said roughly. “I want you again.” He caught me before I moved away, pulling a handkerchief out from somewhere and running it gently between my legs. It was a deeply intimate act, on par with the sex we’d just had. When I was dry, I settled on the seat beside him and dug my lip gloss out of my clutch. I watched Seunghyun over the edge of my mirrored compact as he removed the condom and tied it off. He wrapped it in a cocktail napkin; then tossed it in a cleverly hidden trash receptacle. After restoring his appearance, he told the driver to head to our destination. Then he settled into the seat and stared out the window. With every second that passed, I felt him withdrawing, the connection between us slipping further and further away. I found myself shrinking into the corner of the seat, away from him, mimicking the distance I felt building between us. All the warmth I’d felt receded into a marked chill, cooling me enough that I pulled my shawl around me again. He didn’t move a muscle as I shifted beside him and put my compact away, as if he wasn’t even aware I was there. Abruptly, Seunghyun opened the bar and pulled out a bottle. Without looking at me, he asked, “Brandy?” “No, thank you.” My voice was small, but he didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he didn’t care. He poured a drink and tossed it back. Confused and stung, I pulled on my gloves and tried to figure out what went wrong.