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oddinary4bts · 10 months

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Love is a Laserquest | choi san

☆summary: years after your break-up, Choi San comes to you for help. In an attempt to save his life, you escape to your uncle's cabin in the woods far from civilization. Will nostalgia and longing make you fall again, or is Choi San just spinning more lies to you?

☆pairing: gangster!Choi San x female!reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI)

☆genre: gangster au, exes au, angst, smut, a smidge of the one bed trope

☆warnings: guns/gun violence (mentioned), knifes/stabbing (mentioned), a bounty over San's head, death of a minor character (named Jungkook my bad), blood, injuries, stitches, probably some wrong medical terminology bc optometrists don't stitch up people lmao, a panic attack, cursing, pet names, explicit content: oral sex (female receiving) -> face riding, let me know if I forgot any!

☆word count: 16.5k

☆a/n: Here's my submission for Outlaw: The Project hosted by @ssaboala. It is coincidentally my first time posting about another group than bts, so I hope this won't disappoint! I really enjoyed writing it (even though it's really sad oop). Also my first time making a moodboard so hopefully it works haha

☆a/n pt2: thank you to @moonleeai for being my ever-so faithful beta reader, love you lots <3

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And do you still think love is a Laserquest? Or do you take it all more seriously? I’ve tried to ask you this in some daydreams that I’ve had But you’re always busy being make-believe

Love is a Laserquest – Arctic Monkeys

☆☆☆☆☆

The diner is silent, unoccupied. It always is on late weekday evenings, when most patrons have gone to bed, the city falling under a carpet of hushed silence only night can bring forth. It makes the diner feel like it’s straight out of a 70s movie, and it makes for the perfect study sessions too.

Night isn’t always soundless in your part of town. Hence why you’ve been trying to escape, pursuing an education that has been leaving you penniless, but with a bright future ahead. If you make it out of med school at a certain point, that is.

Tonight, you fear the peace that night usually entails has been ruined for you – there were gunshots earlier, close enough for you to see the police cars racing past as the law officers made it to probably yet another gang fight.

There’s been a gang war on your side of town. The diner has always been safe, a refuge for both sides of the war, where they aren’t allowed to fight. To carry in weapons and hatred. No, the moment they cross the threshold of the diner, the gangsters become one family, sharing struggles that only poverty can cause.

You wipe a table clean before walking back towards the counter. Your open laptop waits for you, and you quickly read the study guide you’ve made for yourself, the cardiovascular system and its pathologies forming a maze in your mind that you’ve yet to decode. Luckily enough, you still have a week before the bloc ends and you have to take the exam.

Plenty of time to cram everything about the heart in your thick little skull, you’d say.

Your lips move in time with what you’re reading, attention solely focused on the bright screen when a thump is heard right outside the door. It startles you, and you turn around to see the empty street out of the glass door.

It takes you about ten seconds to notice the dark form sitting on the ground. They’re leaning against the door, head lolling to the side. You assume it must be someone that’s ended unhoused, something that happens far too often where you live.

You’ve always been kind. When you were younger, you were told your kindness would be your demise. Yet you’ve never been able to be anything but kind, even though sometimes it might put you at risk. So you can’t resist but walk to the front door, trying to push it open.

It’s useless – the weight of the person is keeping it tightly shut, though they do straighten a little, as if coming to their senses. They turn, and the moment their profile comes into view you’re brought back eight years in the past. To a time when the world was still a beautiful place, void of violence and cruelty. To a smile so sweet it made flowers blossom on your heart, and to eyes so sharp you knew they had read your soul.

Choi San is sitting outside the door, and the caked blood on his cheek tells you enough – he’s injured. He pushes away from the door before slowly getting up. He clutches his side as he does it, yet when he turns back towards you and faces your horrified eyes, he still offers you a smirk.

You push the door open, thinking about the years between then and now. You had dated him for a few months that had felt like forever, until you had realized in what kind of business he was getting involved with. You had tried to convince him to flee before it was too late, and he kept promising that he would.

Only he never did, hiding lies with beautiful words that made your teenage self swoon, until your parents had realized and forced you to break up. It had been a nasty break-up, filled with hatred and words you didn’t mean yet had needed to say for him to leave.

You remember breaking his heart like it was yesterday.

“Choi San,” you greet him, and when he lets go of his side, you notice blood on his hand.

Something runs cold inside of you, even though he still sports a smirk on his lips.

He says your name, bowing his head. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

Months, in fact. Because he does come to the diner sometimes. He usually ignores you, and so do you, so it feels strange to have him speak to you. To hear his voice as his words are addressed to you.

“What…” you trail off, glancing down at the ripped fabric of his black tank top.

He’s got a mean cut on his ribs, and it’s only then that you truly realize that he’s badly injured. Because there’s more – one of his biceps has been sliced open too, though blood is barely oozing out of it in small rivulets. The blood on his cheek is from where you assume he’s been punched with rings, and there’s already an underlying bruise under his eye.

“Got beaten up,” he states the obvious, and you immediately open the door wider to let him in.

He limps in, heading towards the nearest booth, where he plops down and lets out a pained grunt. You make sure no one is outside before shutting the door and locking it, flipping the hanging sign on it so it says closed in case a patron decides to show up.

You take a few steps towards San, hands shaking slightly at your side. Because that’s a grown man, bleeding out on the leather seat of the booth, and his eyes are shut though he looks in pain. You don’t know what you’re supposed to do. You haven’t yet started your residency, haven’t really gone from theory to practice… Yet you’re studying to be a doctor, are you not?

“Why are you here?” you ask, though you’re pretty sure you know the answer.

“Didn’t know where else to go,” he says, wincing as one of his eyes opens. He tilts his head to look towards you. “Word around the block says…” he pauses, takes a deep breath before continuing, “that you’re studying to be a doctor”.

So you are right. He’s here because he needs your help, and you’re not quite sure how you feel about it.

“Why…” You look for words, and it takes you a moment to realize that it doesn’t matter.

For all the history between you and him, Choi San doesn’t deserve to bleed out to death on a cheap leather seat in a forgotten diner on the dangerous side of town.

He has the decency to chuckle at the start of your question, which only makes him wince in pain once again.

“Don’t move,” you tell him, and it’s a little stupid because clearly, he’s in no state to move.

He doesn’t question it, and you run to the kitchen to thoroughly wash your hands and grab the first aid kit. At night, no cooks stay around, and you usually only reheat food if needed, which doesn’t really happen. You haven’t had any client coming in at night in weeks… until San, that is. So no one is there to see what is going on, which you reckon is a relief. Because you have no idea what’s going on.

You return to the booth where San is waiting, patiently. He’s clearly wiped his hand on his face because there’s fresh blood on his forehead, and you almost balk at the sight of it.

“What have you done?” you mutter, more to yourself than to him.

It seems he’s still in sync with you because he still hears. “Got involved with the wrong crowd.”

You put the first aid kit down on the table, ignoring his eyes when they flutter open, and he rests his gaze on you.

“I don’t know if I can help you,” you say as you unzip the kit and throw it open. You spare his side a quick glance. “This looks like you’re going to need stitches.”

He makes an effort of looking down at himself, though it mostly fails as he doesn’t raise his head from the seat. “Right.”

You grab everything you think you might need – alcohol swabs to clean his skin, fresh linen to bandage his side and arm, and stuff for his cheek too. He carefully observes you, with that piercing gaze of his that used to make you go crazy inside when you were young and impressionable.

You vaguely motion at him, and he cocks an eyebrow. “What?”

“Are you able to sit up?” you ask. “I can’t reach you if you’re lying back like this.”

His pink tongue darts to wet his lips, and he nods curtly. “Let me…” he trails off, resting a bloody hand on the table while he grabs at the back of the booth to push himself up. It has new blood appearing on his side, and you quickly move towards him, putting some linen against it.

As if it’s going to do anything. He clearly needs stitches, and you’ve got nothing with you to stitch him up.

“Fuck,” he curses lowly as he’s finally sitting. You just keep the linen on his side, eyes a little wide.

Your gazes connect inevitably, and time slows. You think about how he used to smile, how his eyes used to hold a softness you haven’t had the chance to see again since he’s walked out of your life.

Or rather, since you kicked him out of your life.

“I don’t think I can help,” you whisper, and his eyes flicker to your lips.

“I can’t go to the hospital,” he admits, shame turning his features into a mask of regret. “They… If they find me, I’m dead.”

Dread fills every ounce of your being. “San, what have you been doing?”

He looks away from your insistent gaze, scoffing slightly. “You don’t want to know.”

He isn’t wrong; you genuinely don’t want to know. Because he means nothing good, even with all the memories you share with him.

“Is it going to put me in danger?” you ask, as he still obstinately avoids your gaze.

He seems to freeze in front of you, as if you’ve pressed pause to your favourite show. To avoid the awkwardness, you busy yourself with grabbing one of his hands so he can hold the linen in place before you start washing the cut on his arm. It’s not deep, but you’re pretty sure it’ll still leave a mean scar, especially considering he can’t go to the hospital.

The thought has a drop of cold sweat roll along your spine. People want him dead. People want Choi San, the man you know as a young, scared teenager just trying to find a way to make his life better, dead. You remember the innocence in his smile – has he smiled at all in the years apart?

“I should go,” he says flatly. He moves to stand, but you hold him down, two hands firmly placed on his shoulders. It makes him wince, and you quickly release your grip.

“Don’t,” you tell him. “Let me at least patch you up.”

His eyes shut again as his head hangs low. “I am so sorry.”

You don’t even know who he is apologizing to, or why he is. All you know is that it causes your heart to clench in your chest, stealing the breath from your lungs.

When you were younger, you believed San was your star-crossed lover. You believed your high school sweethearts romance would grow until you’d be old and grey and at the end of a very long road. You had dreamed of a future with him, the way only teenagers can dream – with no sense of reality. Because your reality had never been to end up by his side.

His choices had been proof enough of it.

You still remember the day you first kissed. Under an August meteor shower, with just the night sky as your witness. It had been hesitant, slow and soft, just like everything with San. And you had believed the lie, trusted it with every beat of your little heart, until your parents had found out the truth about him.

Until they had broken your heart, even before you had broken his.

If the stars had known then, what was going to happen to you and Choi San, would they still have shone through the night?

He lets out a pained sound as you gently dab at the cut on his bicep. You clean the skin around the wound in and of itself, and he watches you carefully, piercing gaze not missing how your face clouds with memories.

“How have you been doing?” he asks so softly you think his words are a gentle summer breeze on your features.

You can almost still smell the summer night air of that field where you had stargazed, where you’d always meet so long ago.

“I’ve been okay,” you answer, truthfully. Because even though you haven’t seen him, you have lived your life apart from him. Have evolved without him by your side. “Better than you, visibly.”

He didn’t expect the joke. It makes him snort, and then a soft smile grows on his lips, softening the edges of his hard features. “You haven’t changed.”

You have, and yet you haven’t. Like him, you think there’s a part of you that is still sixteen, and will forever be. A part of you that remained stuck in the moment when you watched him walk away in the rain, as if even the sky had to cry for his broken heart.

“Wish I could say the same about you,” you murmur, nostalgia a melancholic song in your words.

He chooses to remain silent, because the proof of how much he’s changed is sitting right in front of you, wounded and bleeding and hurt. The hurt is behind his eyes, in the shadows of the past that have also been obscuring your vision.

“Yeah,” he lets out, barely audible.

And then silence reigns between you, because as much as you once loved him, eight years have made you strangers. You don’t know anything about his life except the dirty, obvious darkness that surrounds him, and he doesn’t know anything except that you are studying to be a doctor…

Which leads you to wonder how does he know in the first place?

You ask him, as you’re wrapping the linen around his bicep to make a makeshift bandage. You’re proud of the result, though your fingers can’t resist but linger on the taut skin over his muscle, surprised at how soft it still is.

“I’ve heard you mention it,” he admits, as you take a step away to look at the material on the table, as if it’ll suddenly make stitches appear for you to put them in his skin. “One of the times I was here.”

“You never said hi,” you reproach him, unable to hide the ghost of a bite in your tone.

“Neither did you,” he points out, and he isn’t wrong.

All you can do is purse your lips as you finally decide to clean his skin. But for that, you have to rid him of his tank top, to make sure there’s no fabric in the wound. You look at him, cheeks somehow burning even though all you’re doing is taking care of a patient.

Though he’s not a patient, and you’re not in a hospital. You’re just a server at a dusty, old diner and he’s just your teenage lover, wounded by his dangerous actions.

“Should I grab scissors to remove your shirt?” you ask, though you’re speaking to yourself more than to him.

He still finds it in him to tease. “You want me out of my shirt?” he enquires, smirk gracing his lips again. “Say no more.”

He tries moving, but you hold up a hand to stop him. “Don’t,” you warn. “You’ll make it bleed more.”

He purses his lips, because nodding. “Right.” He glances at the first aid kit, before his eyes trail to your face again. “You got scissors in that?”

There are. You grab them, before turning towards him. It feels strange: you’ve never undressed him before. You had always wanted to wait, back then, before you slept together. You believed you were too young, and San had always respected it.

“Let me know if I hurt you,” you tell him as you take a step closer to him.

He slightly leans back, furrowing his eyebrows. “What do you plan to do with those that might hurt?”

You roll your eyes, playfully, before taking the two other steps leading to right in front of his legs. You notice that they are slightly parted, allowing you to come closer, and you take a steadying breath before reaching between you, pulling at the fabric of his tank top.

“Stay still and you shouldn’t get hurt,” you whisper, ignoring the heaviness of his piercing gaze on you.

It burns right through you, and you have to tame the beats of your heart at the feeling of the warm skin of his shoulder against the back of your fingers as you bring your other hand forward, until you’ve started cutting his shirt.

It’s stuck to his side where blood has dried, and he winces but remains still and silent as you keep going, pulling on it a little harder to be able to cut. The moment stretches into infinity, because you can’t help but take your time. It reminds you of how you’d used to run your fingers on his back, under his shirt, when you napped in the field in the summertime. In an idyllic world where gangs and violence and war were mere inventions of the media, and not a reality that surrounded you.

You’d loved the field. The wildflowers, the open air, the way it was just you and him and a few lazy bumblebees as clouds lazily crossed the sky above. You were so young then, so innocent. Hands unstained from blood, from his blood.

Because as you cut, the hand touching his shirt stains with blood. You pale at the sight of it, but you keep going, pushing through until you’re done, gently pulling the fabric from his body until he’s sitting there, shirtless, with a long wound on his ribs.

You can’t help but notice his toned chest and the defined abs on his stomach. Though blood mars his skin, turning it into a piece of violence, Choi San is still beautiful. Beautiful in a dark, dangerous way that has you glance outside, making sure no one is looking.

But the streets are empty, void of life at this time of the night. At least, they mostly always are.

“You will need stitches,” you state again as if you both don’t know already.

“I can’t…”

An idea forms in your brain. It’s a stupid idea, and you don’t even know why it crosses your mind.

Your uncle has a hunting cabin far in the woods. He’s a nurse himself, and he’s always kept everything over there in case someone got injured and he had to stitch them up. You haven’t gone in forever, but you still remember the tall trees, the deep forest scent that reminds you of autumn and leaves and grey days spent reading by the fireplace.

You never went hunting, but you did accompany your father when he went, needing an escape from the city once in a while. An escape from a life that was slowly becoming too real.

Your uncle is currently halfway across the country, so you know you’d be alone at the cabin. You glance at your laptop over your shoulder – you have three days off in front of you before your next class on Monday. Indeed, the Friday class is pre-recorded and to watch online in your free time, and you figure you can always watch it some other time.

So you turn towards Choi San, almost surprised that he’s real and he’s still sitting in front of you, honey skin cut open on his ribs.

“I might know a place where you can go,” you admit, with a small voice, surprising both you and him. Because you doubt he expects you to want to help, after tonight.

“What?” he asks.

“My uncle’s cabin,” you remind him, because you’ve told him about it all those years ago. “He should have all that I need to stitch you up.”

San looks down at himself. “You’ve just cut my shirt open.”

It sounds a little dumbfounded, and you can’t help the nervous laugh that falls from your mouth. Because even though it doesn’t look too deep, the wound still is terrifying in and of itself.

“I’ll bandage it,” you whisper. “Before we go.”

He seems like he ponders for a time. You watch the debate across his features, his eyes falling to a spot on your chin. He looks sad, troubled and defeated. “I can’t… I can’t do this to you.”

You ignore his words, carefully washing his side. You avoid the cut and try to be as gentle as you can, but his muscles still flex as he clenches his fists from the pain.

He’s strong. That much hasn’t changed. Because he doesn’t make any sound as you finish washing him and then patch him up with those same careful hands. And when you move to his face, cleaning the blood, his eyes flutter shut, and he sighs softly.

He looks so much like he looked then that your heart aches, and you find yourself blinking away tears for this man who’s had it so rough he believed joining a gang would save him.

“I should have come to you before,” he murmurs. “You’re much gentler than Hongjoong.”

You don’t know the guy he mentioned, and you don’t feel like asking. Don’t feel like acknowledging his words, so you just finish with his cheek before stepping away from the peaceful aura that was treacherously pulling you in.

Like all those years ago, you reckon.

“Let me make a call,” you say, turning away from him as you move to the counter. You feel the weight of his eyes between your shoulder blades as you get your phone from next to your laptop. You call your boss, and as someone that’s never called in sick before, you feel anxiety flush through you.

Because you’re not sick. And how could you tell him that you need to take care of your ex-boyfriend of eight years ago?

Seokhyun picks up on the first ring, voice groggy with sleep when he mutters, “Hello?”

“Boss,” you greet him. You scrape your throat and spare a look towards San who’s watching you curiously. “An emergency came up, and I have to leave the diner.” You swallow the lump in your throat that’s formed from lying, and then you add, “There haven’t been any customers all night, so I was wondering… would you be comfortable with me closing for the rest of the night?”

Your boss says your name, a little reproachfully. But then he sighs, because he knows just as well as you what a good employee you’ve always been. “Are you going to be able to come in tomorrow night?” he asks.

You pull at dry skin on your bottom lip, assessing San’s state. You could always come back to the city for work…

“You know what, I know you’ve got that big exam coming up,” your boss says, sighing into the phone. “Why don’t you take the next week off so you can take care of your emergency and focus on your studies?”

If Seokhyun wasn’t a fifty-three year old married and father of three children man, you think you’d ask him to marry you right now.

“That would be really helpful,” you tell him, gratitude dripping from your voice. “Are you sure that won’t be a problem for the diner?”

“The diner won’t lose profit if it closes for three nights in the week,” he points out. “I’ll see if I can get you replaced for the evening shift on Sunday.”

You thank him again as he grumbles that it’s nothing. He wishes you good luck, and when the line goes silent, you finally meet San’s gaze again.

“All sorted out,” you tell him, offering him a nod. “Let me just close the diner, and then we can go.”

He nods, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. He observes you as you do so, quickly closing the diner like you’ve done about a hundred times before, though this time you’re far more excited to go. You grab a plastic bag to put away the bloody swabs, and though he groans in pain, San gets up to help you clean the blood that stained the cheap leather of the booth.

Soon enough, you’re ready to go, and you walk outside with the plastic bag in one hand and your backpack on your shoulders as San chuckles, looking down at himself.

“Do you have a shirt for me?” he asks as he follows you out.

You lock the door behind you before glancing at him. He’s quite the sight, naked from the waist up and bandaged like he is, and you can’t help the small chuckle you let out as you glance towards your car, that’s luckily parked right in front.

Though it’s a deadbeat car, you trust it enough to know it’ll make the trip to your uncle’s cabin, even in the middle of the night.

“My ex left some sweaters on the back seat,” you admit as you unlock your car doors and open the trunk to put your backpack and the plastic bag in there. There’s no chance in hell you’ll leave a plastic bag full of bloody swabs near your work.

You see San nod from the periphery of your vision, and then he’s opening the door to the backseat. “Your ex, huh?” he mutters as he grabs a sweater you used to love wearing and that you haven’t convinced yourself to give back to Hyunmin.

He carefully puts it on, and you’re pretty sure just the motion is going to make blood seep through the bandage. Somehow, you don’t care that it might stain Hyunmin’s sweater.

Hyunmin was a cheater, and even though you never really loved him, it took you months before you found the strength to break up with him. Needless to say, he doesn’t deserve his clothes back.

“Yeah,” you flatly say as you move towards the driver’s seat. You sit, and San follows you, naturally, as if you’ve done it a thousand times before.

As you turn the keys in the engine, San asks, “Have you dated a lot?”

You bristle at the question, shooting him an embarrassed look. “Have you?”

“No,” he replies, features fully serious.

You purse your lips, focusing on the road as you start driving. You need to put gas in the car if you want to get to your uncle’s cabin, so you make your way towards the closest one. It takes you a moment before you register how San has stiffened next to you.

“Can we…” he trails off, and he sinks in the seat, trying to hide. “I can’t be seen here.”

You immediately press on the accelerator, and your car speeds down the street as you pass in front of the gas station. You glance at San only when you’re stopped at a red light. He’s pulled the hood of the sweater over his features, and he’s doing his best to hide.

“Where can we stop?” you ask.

“Next town over,” he answers. “I just can’t be seen in Bangtan territory.”

Right. You have no knowledge of how the gangs have divided your city, but you’re not surprised Bangtan has this part of town. It’s the industrial area, and you assume there’s a lot of money to be made around here.

“Sounds good,” you gently say, and then you’re driving again, the light turning green, allowing you to speed away into the night.

You drive silently all the way to the next town, watching your city disappear to be replaced by trees until buildings reappear. San is looking outside the window, and you can’t help but wonder how he’s been doing, truly. How he managed to get injured like he is right now, and mostly, if his dreams of running away still occupy his thoughts.

He had begged you, the evening you had broken up with him. Told you he’d make enough money to be able to move with you across the country and build yourself a nice little life over there. You had wanted to believe him for so long, until your parents had opened your eyes on just how he was trying to make money.

“Do you need anything?” you ask as you finally reach the gas station, pulling into the driveway. You park next to a pump, turning to face him only to find him already watching you.

“I don’t have money to pay for food,” he admits. He shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I lost my wallet in the… altercation.”

You gently put a hand on his forearm. “Hey, my treat. We have to eat.”

He inhales deeply, letting out the breath slowly, before he nods. “Alright. I owe you.”

You reckon he’ll owe you for a lot more than just food at a gas station, but you choose not to say it. Not when you feel like someone’s watching over your shoulder, watching you drive away in the night with the person they are looking for.

You know it’s paranoia. No one followed you out of the city and into this town. It just feels too strange to have him here, with you. In your car, on the way to your uncle’s cabin, as if eight years have gone out the window. As if you can still be young and innocent.

It’s stupid, because you can’t. Time has changed him; time has changed you. And in just a few years you’ll be a doctor, and you’ll finally get out of this hellhole of a city, of its dangerous streets.

Of its equally dangerous man, that you know could probably pull you back in with one of his many well-crafted lies, one of the dreams he weaved expertly, whispering it into your ear.

You take a deep breath before getting out of the car. You go into the station, grab snacks for the next few days and then head to the counter. The guy behind nods as you approach, and you pay for the food and for gas before wishing him a good night and returning outside. San is still squatting in the car, clearly trying to hide, and you put the food on the backseat before putting gas in.

You watch his profile as you put gas in the car. Back when you were dating, his features weren’t as sharp, as glass-cutting as they now are. He used to sport a rounder face, but today you wonder if you’d get a papercut on his jaw. You wouldn’t even be surprised.

When you’re done with gas, you sit back next to him, and you quickly bring the engine back to life before pulling out in the street. As soon as you exit the city, darkness falls on the two of you, tall trees standing on the two sides of the road again. San doesn’t speak much, and it doesn’t take you long to realize he’s dozing off next to you.

“Hey, everything okay?” you ask, suddenly worried that he might have lost too much blood. Which, you reckon, you should have thought about earlier.

He sighs, glancing towards you. “Just tired.”

“Don’t…” you trail off. “Don’t fall asleep.”

He chuckles. “You’re afraid I’m going to die on you?”

“Choi San,” you warn. “Don’t you dare say stuff like that.”

He smiles, but you reckon he’s a little pale. Or at least you think he is, in the silver light of the moon up above. “I think I’m fine. Just…” He offers you a weak smile, though you’ve returned your attention on the winding road. “Just exhausted. I haven’t slept in three days.”

Worry clutches your heart, and you nibble at some dry skin on your bottom lip. “What’s been going on?”

He slightly shrugs. “I can’t tell you. I don’t want to put you in danger…”

“Am I not already in danger by just helping you?”

The silence is telling enough. And it remains for a while until San finally speaks.

“I was in a gunfight a week ago. Accidentally shot the youngest member of the other gang. He didn’t make it, and the gang has put a bounty on my head. Ateez took my gun and told me to run; I laughed in their face and said I wasn’t a coward. Then I got attacked by two guys with knives earlier, and I made it to the diner because I had nowhere else to go.”

Now the silence is deafening, heavy, and you think you’ve altogether stopped breathing. You’re struck with an image of San in the summer sun, smiling wide as he put a flower behind your ear, claiming you were the most beautiful girl he had ever met. The contrast with who he is now – a product of night, shrouded in darkness with no hint of that smile on his lips – is stark. And you wonder when’s the last time he has seen the sun, when’s the last time his life wasn’t violence like this.

When you say nothing, he scoffs, resting his head against the window as if it’d allow him to escape. Because clearly he wants to escape – he’s just told you that he’s killed someone after all.

And you don’t know what to say. Don’t know how to react to someone confessing murder. All you can do is stare at the street ahead, hoping you won’t end up in a gunfight with San. Because where would that lead you, other than in the dramatics of death?

You don’t speak for the rest of the ride. You don’t think he sleeps either, and dawn is clinging to the far horizon when you get to your uncle’s cabin, in a secluded forest that seems straight out of a fairytale. Instead of bringing you awe like it usually does, the sight of it makes you think of all the murder mysteries you had been obsessed with when you were younger, before you realized how horrible the real world truly is.

Neither of you move, as you turn off the engine of the car, and you fall into even more of a tensed silence, though this time you can hear the chirping of the early birds. It’s peaceful, so peaceful you can barely even grasp how tangible the presence of San is next to you. The presence of his actions too, looming between the two of you like a sword of Damocles.

You move first. Putting a hand on the knob, hoping to escape the heaviness into the dawn. San speaks before you can though, and your heart stops in your chest.

“I never meant for him to get hurt,” he murmurs, and you think he’s speaking to himself more than to you. “Everything went too fast, my gun was in my hand and I just… in situations like these, you don’t have time to think.” He leans his head against the headrest, eyes closing. “All I can picture since it’s happened is him falling and blood. Like a fucking blossoming rose, all around him.” He rests his closed fist on his forehead, rubbing it hard. “I haven’t been able to sleep; I’ve been sick every time I’ve tried to eat…”

“San,” you interrupt as you break and break for him. Because this is the San you know. This is the young boy that just wanted to escape and live in a better world. You can almost taste his remorse, taste his regret and shame. It’s poisonous, treacherous, a slippery slope that can’t lead anywhere good. “Let’s get you in. I want to get that cut on your ribs checked.”

He falls silent, and for a moment you feel guilty. Because what if he had more to say? You don’t even think you would have been able to listen. You need the escape, and you know he’ll permit it. Because the man next to you is a broken man, a fracture of what he could have been.

You step out of the car, blinking away tears – from the anxiety, from the exhaustion, and perhaps even from the pain you feel for him. He follows you, wincing as he swings his legs out of the car. He stumbles a little as he stands, but soon enough, he grows steady on his feet, and his attention moves to you. You climb the stairs of the cabin, lifting the rug to find the small trap that leads to the spare key. The padlock is rusted, but it stands strong as you put in the code, and a click is heard when you pull on it.

A few seconds later, you’ve unlocked the front door, pushing it open to reveal the cabin as you remember it. Not a single item is out of place, though dust covers everything, a clear indication that no one has been here in years. You let San in, before going back to the car to get the food you bought, bringing it in and putting it in the fridge. Three full gas canisters hide under the counter, and you sigh in relief – you’ll be able to get the generator on for some electricity.

You motion to the kitchen table. “Have a seat,” you tell San, who somehow looks like a lost puppy. “I’ll get the first aid kit.”

He nods, remaining silent, eyes downcast. You only move when he’s seated, heading to the bathroom area of the cabin, where you startle a spider that almost makes you scream out loud. You keep it in, heart beating out of your chest as you get the kit before moving back into the main area.

San is leaning against the chair, eyes closed. He senses you approaching, and one of his eyes cracks open to watch you carefully, a little like he did earlier, at the diner. It looks so similar to how he used to look at you, when you joined him at the field, that you stop in your tracks, heart squeezing once again.

You don’t like the way Choi San is making you feel, that’s for sure.

“Take off the sweater,” you tell him, putting the kit down on the table. You put some clean linen next to it, to put what you need over it, before washing your hands with the disinfectant you find in the kit. You put latex gloves on after, and then you fish wire and a surgical needle from the first aid kit that you carefully put down on the linen once you’ve torn the packages open.

As you were doing all of that, San took off the shirt, struggling a little as it meant he had to lift his right arm, which pulled at the skin of his ribs, where the cut clearly has started bleeding again. Though, if you’re honest to yourself, you’re pretty sure he’s been bleeding this whole time, even though it probably was just some fine rivulets.

Indeed, the cut isn’t all that deep, you remind yourself. Mostly because you don’t want to even think about the consequences of the blood loss. As long as he stays awake, you figure he’s fine – he would have lost consciousness a while ago if he was losing a lot of blood.

You remove the bandage you had carefully put in place earlier, wincing at the sight of the blood that’s seeped through it. San keeps his eyes close, lets you clean his skin again in peace, and you feel sick to your stomach as you realize you don’t have any anesthetics for the pain that stitching him up will cause. Indeed, the pocket in which your uncle usually leaves the lidocaine is empty, and you remember that he’s had to use it for your dad when he accidentally cut himself with a machete last summer.

“Huh,” you let out. You chuckle nervously. “It’s going to hurt like a bitch.”

His eyes narrow, and he clenches his jaw. “Don’t worry about it.”

You worry at your bottom lip, holding his gaze as you gauge if he’s serious. When his gaze doesn’t falter, you offer him a curt nod, before getting the wire and needle ready under his watchful eyes.

You hand him some linen. “To bite on,” you explain as he just cocks an eyebrow quizzically. That makes his gaze widen a little as if he’s just now realizing how serious you were about it hurting, but he takes it nonetheless.

You think about the theory of how to stitch someone up. It was in your previous block – you watched hours of videos of it in an attempt to desensitize yourself to it. You don’t think it compares to the real thing, but at least you’re somehow confident of what you’re doing when you start.

San startles, groaning in pain, and you offer him a glare. “Don’t move, or it’ll be worse.”

A drop of sweat rolls down his temple, but he still nods. Even as you keep on stitching him, he remains as still as he physically can, though you don’t think he even notices how he’s trembling. Or maybe that’s you – you don’t even know.

Somehow, you make it through the whole thing. You think San might have passed out at some point, but he’s wide awake when you finish the knot to keep the stitches in place, looking up to meet his face.

He’s panting and tears of pain wet his waterline. He blinks them away as he takes the linen out of his mouth, dropping it on the table.

“Fuck,” he curses.

“Let me…” you trail off, mind set on getting something to at least help him cool off, because he’s clearly been heating up.

You grab a washcloth and a small bucket, and head outside to walk down to the lake. You fill the bucket halfway, and take a few seconds to observe the calm surrounding you, hoping that it can ease the nerves rolling inside your heart like dark clouds do on the horizon whenever a storm is coming. You feel it in your bones – you have a murderer in your uncle’s cabin.

You have to keep that in mind. To not let Choi San in like you did when you were a young impressionable teenager.

You sigh, closing your eyes to breathe in the fresh morning air. The sun is peaking over the horizon now, and you bask in its hesitant rays for all of twenty seconds before you convince yourself to go back in. You’ve got a patient to take care of, after all.

San hasn’t moved an inch while you were outside. The only indication that he hasn’t died on you is the groan he lets out as you put the wet washcloth on his forehead. You tap his cheek gently, as if to say, ‘suck it up, I’m just trying to take care of you’.

Which is exactly what you’re doing, isn’t it?

You watch him carefully for a few seconds before tapping his shoulder this time around.

“There’s a bed,” you remind him. “You’d be better passing out in a bed.”

He groans again, cracking an eye open. “I’ve just been repeatedly poked with a needle,” he drawls. “Give me a second.”

It makes you laugh. Because of the nerves, maybe. You’re not quite sure. All you know is that you’re laughing, and San opens his second eye to look at you as if you’re crazy. And you laugh for longer than you should – you’re exhausted after all, especially considering you haven’t slept since yesterday morning. So far, adrenaline has been keeping you going, but you can tell you’re about to crash.

“Sorry,” you apologize once you calm down. “This has just been…”

“A lot,” San finishes for you. “I know.”

You nod once before glancing at the doorway to the bedroom. It has no door, as your uncle and your dad usually come here alone and they don’t mind sharing a bed. It makes you realize that you’ll have to share it with San, which you reckon you should have thought about before. Because there’s no way in hell you’ll share a bed with him, especially after he’s told you why he’s being hunted.

There’s always the option of going into town later today so you can get a sleeping bag and floor mat to sleep on. But you’re far too tired right now to even consider driving, so you motion to the bed once again.

“Stick to your side; I’ll stick to mine.”

He smirks though he’s extremely pale. A lot paler than he was before, and you swallow a sudden lump in your throat. Because what if he dies? What are you supposed to do with him if he dies?

“You’ll have to help me to get to the bed ‘cause I don’t think I can move,” he says once his smirk dies. He curses under his breath. “I’m so pathetic.”

You put your hand on his shoulder again, reassuringly, eyes holding his. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re hurt. Everyone is pathetic when they’re hurt.”

He gulps before nodding once. It takes everything in you not to offer him more comfort because you feel like the slope would tilt forwards far too much if you did. Instead, you help him to get up, wincing as he puts most of his weight on you, clutching his side with one hand. You’re infinitely aware of how his skin is sticky with sweat, but you ignore it as you slowly walk to the bedroom.

You can only hope the stitches will hold because you don’t think he’d be able to withstand another round of them.

You finally reach the bedroom and help San sit on the side of the bed. He sighs, eyes shut tightly, and he doesn’t move for a time. When he does, it’s to stiffly lie down on his side.

“You might want to sleep on your back,” you inform him. “I don’t want you rolling around and messing up the stitches.”

He glares at you, though he looks like he’s already half out of it. You hold his gaze until he gives in, turning on his back with a deep sigh. You arrange pillows around him to make sure he’s not moving, and by the time you’re done, his breathing has already evened out.

For a moment, you just watch him sleep. You see him in the field where young love blossomed like a trillion wildflowers. You can almost breathe his pollen again, can almost feel the softness of his skin under your fingertips.

But he’s not what he used to be. Back then, you felt like you had discovered something new. Love, infatuation, affection, and desire, all in the form of the man sleeping next to you. You’d used to kiss, dance and sing to a song only your souls knew, and now you don’t think you recognize him anymore.

As much as he is him, he’s also but just the ghost of what he was. He’s trouble, danger in the shape of innocence, and you recall his words from earlier. You recall the despair, the regret and sorrow that haunted him after he told you. You can’t let him get to your head.

You reckon sleep might help. Though you’re afraid he’s going to waste away in his sleep, so you set up an alarm every hour, before climbing on the other side of the bed. You don’t pull on the covers, mostly because the cabin is warm, and you can imagine it’s just going to get hotter as the sun goes up and the summer heat slowly sizzles into the countryside.

It’s a good thing you put an alarm on. Because when it rings an hour later, you don’t even remember falling asleep. You’re pretty sure the second your head touched the mattress, you were out to the land of dreams. You groan, mostly because you’ve got a slight headache, but you power through it to make sure San is still breathing.

When you see his chest moving up and down steadily, you let yourself fall back asleep.

This goes on for the whole morning, and you only force yourself to stay up when your phone shows that it’s passed noon. As you had suspected earlier, the cabin has gotten extremely warm, so you force yourself out of bed to open all the windows, and then you use the washcloth from earlier to gently wash San’s face of the sweat.

He doesn’t even flinch in his sleep, but he’s still breathing and for now, that’s all that matters.

You head back to the main room, grabbing a pack of chips from where you had left the food earlier, and then you move outside to sit by the lake. Mostly because you need to put distance between you and San, but also just because the childhood memories of this place have you in their hold, and they’ve decided to make you miss the times when you’d swim around with your cousins before both of them had moved out of town.

One day, it’s going to be you too. You already know where you’d go – on the other side of the country, as far away from here as possible. You just want to forget all about the place you grew up in, and you know that, in a few years, you will have forgotten.

Though you’re pretty sure a certain piercing gaze will haunt you forever, especially after the events of today.

When another hour passes, you head back inside, putting the empty bag of chips in the trash before you check up on San. He’s still asleep, but this time he doesn’t look as pale as he did earlier. You assume it’s going to take him a while before he wakes, so you head to the nearest town to grab more food. Mostly to busy yourself, but also just because you know San will need a place to hide for a lot longer than just the weekend. Might as well make sure you have enough for him to survive a couple of days. In town, you also stop to eat at a small café on a small terrasse in the shade of a few trees, and then you grab the food you think you might need at the grocery store.

It’s the middle of the afternoon when you get back, realizing that you forgot to buy a floor mat. As you spy San, who hasn’t moved an inch since he’s fallen asleep, you figure that sleeping next to him tonight should be fine.

As long as his presence in your vicinity doesn’t drag you down memory lane again.

You bought some meat in town, so you head to the little shack outside where the generator is hiding. There’s a gas canister right next to it – also full – and you busy yourself for the next twenty minutes trying to figure out how to get it started. When it finally rumbles to life, you head back inside to put the meat in the fridge, which has finally come to life.

When you hear a groan, you quickly jog to San’s side, fully expecting to find him awake. Surprisingly, he’s still asleep, and you stay next to him for a full minute, thinking he might groan again, though he remains entirely silent.

If it wasn’t for his chest moving up and down steadily, you’d believe him to be dead. But now that a few hours have passed, you’re pretty positive he’ll make it, though he’s probably going to sleep through the day and possibly through the next one too.

Which leaves you in the most peaceful atmosphere you’ve been in for a while, with the opportunity to study as you listen to the rush of wind in the leaves of the tall trees surrounding the cabin. You sit outside, this time near the fireplace, and you study until your stomach grumbles, indicating that it is time for you to cook.

You cook the meat you’ve bought on the grill outside, feeling thankful that your dad once showed you how to use it. You go back in to grab a bottle of water before you eat, and you’re bent in the fridge when you hear San moan again, and this time it sounds like he’s saying something.

You gently close the fridge, making your way to the bedroom. San hasn’t moved, but his features are creased in a frown, and sweat is rolling down his temples. You wet the washcloth, gently wipe his face, and you’re about to leave when he moans again.

It takes you far too long to realize he’s apologizing. What for, you can’t really tell. Though you remember his troubled eyes this morning, you remember his story, and your heart breaks in your chest.

He’s haunted. You think the ghost of the dead guy will probably haunt him for the rest of his life. And suddenly you’re struck thinking maybe, maybe if you hadn’t broken his heart all those years ago, you could have saved him from the gang.

Maybe you could have opened his eyes.

You still remember the break-up like it was yesterday. You remember the rain, him leaving without once looking back, but mostly you remember the words you had uttered. Ghosts of their own, that feel more real now that he’s come back into your life.

*****

“You’re going to get hurt!” you yelled. “You’ll get hurt, San. What are you thinking?”

He scoffed, shaking his head, and little droplets of water shot all around him. “I’ll be careful. We need the money if we ever want to make it out of this shit town.”

You blinked away tears, folding your arms on your chest as you tried to keep your heart from breaking. Though you reckoned it had broken when your parents had told you what they knew about San. When your father had mentioned Ateez, and you’d truly realized what it meant that he was part of a gang. San, your sweet, soft, and bubbly San, in a gang that had murdered someone just a few weeks ago.

“But that’s not a way to make money!” you screamed, hoping he’d understand. Hoping he’d hear the truth in your words, hoping he’d change his mind before it was too late. “Why don’t you get a part-time job, like me? Then we can go to college and get jobs in a nice city on the other side of the country!”

“It won’t work,” he drawled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I want to be out soon, not in a few years. I barely even have a roof over my head, Y/n…”

“Come live with me,” you choked out around the lump in your throat.

You both knew fully well that your parents would never let him come near you again.

“I can’t.”

You cried, hiding your face in your hands. You cried thinking of the field where you usually met, thinking about its beauty now fading into ugliness. You thought about the wildflowers, withered and dead as autumn had come. You thought about how you were convinced you knew what love was.

“What’s the point?” you asked then. “What’s the point of putting your life in danger? Life isn’t some sort of a game, Choi San. Worse, what if you have to hurt someone? Do you think you’ll be able to pull the trigger?”

He clenched his jaw, hard. “Do me a favour and stop asking questions.”

You closed your eyes, feeling sick to your stomach. Because it couldn’t be. Not San. Not your smiley San, who’d always weave dandelions crowns with you, as you’d pretend you were a queen and a king of that field you had found. An empty field, an abandoned farmland that was just yours and his to explore. That had been home to your first kiss, and all of those that had followed.

Now you wondered why he had always wanted to meet there in the first place. Was he trying to hide?

"If you love me, you’ll get out while you still can,” you said as your tears suddenly ended.

There was a weird sense of clarity in you, suddenly. You remembered the day you had fallen in love, the moment you had first kissed. You remembered the stars in the sky above, the meteors falling for the two of you. You remembered the music on the radio you had brought. Some Arctic Monkeys song about heartbreak, about moving on and failing to do so. As a joke, when it had ended, you had asked San, “Do you think love is a laserquest?”

His answer had been cryptic, mysterious, things that had made you believe he was the one. “Maybe. Maybe it is, and I’ve shot you in the back while you weren’t looking. Maybe I’m that annoying player that won’t leave you alone.”

“I’ll never find you annoying,” you had replied.

But today, watching the rain rolling down his face like tears, you realized that maybe, maybe you should have seen the warning behind his words. Because this betrayal, it came like he had shot you in the back – you didn’t think you’d be able to recover from it.

The past dwindled away as San spoke again, reminding you of the question you had just asked him. “It’s not a question of love, Y/n. I do love you. But it’s a question of survival.”

You laughed, coldly, and then you said, “You know what? You’re full of shit.”

“Alright then. Do me a favour and tell me to go away.”

“Go away.”

A long silence had lingered between you, voided of that summer warmth that had you falling in love. Like a piece was missing from the contract of you loving him, and him loving you. And you realized, maybe you had never really loved each other anyway.

He nodded once when you didn’t say anything else, before turning away. And you watched him walk away. You watched him thinking he was going to turn around and tell you this was just some twisted joke, the prank of the century. Only, he never turned around, and he disappeared behind the bend in the road, never to be seen again, cracking your heart open and splitting it in half.

*****

The sun sets, like an ending to a dream. You’ve always liked the end – you think if you could choose, you’d want to witness the end of the world. The nostalgia, the beauty of endings… it’s something you understand now that you didn’t understand when you were younger. Because you and San ending, it had led to you focusing on high school. It had allowed you to get in the good college in town, with a scholarship that covered most of your expenses before you made it to med school.

There’s beauty in knowing losing San has allowed you to live out your dreams.

There’s less beauty in knowing that San has been sleeping for almost thirty-four hours now. Last time you checked, he was still breathing, but you’re starting to be afraid that he just won’t wake up. It’s irrational, you know – after the blood loss it makes sense that he’d sleep for a long time.

But it leaves you with far too much time on your hands to think and revisit the past. You’ve been doing it all day – thinking about the fight with your parents that had led to your break-up with San, thinking about that damn rainy evening he had walked away without once looking back. Thinking of the field, of sunshine and star falls and the sweetness of a first kiss. Thinking that, then, you thought you knew what it was like to be in love.

You haven’t dated anyone serious since San. Hyunmin was a distraction for a while, but you never were into it. Not like you were into San. There’s a guy in your class though, that you’ve been chatting with for a couple of weeks. He’s sweet, innocent, and the perspective of a future seems less scary with him around. He’s mentioned he wants to move across the country once too, and since then you’ve started talking more, the similarity of your wishes drawing you closer.

All day today you’ve been feeling like you’re slowly drifting away though. Slowly getting entrapped in a web you’re not sure you’ll be able to walk away from.

You decide to swim, seeking the fresh clarity only cold water can bring to you. You don’t have a swimsuit with you, but since San is half-dead in bed you figure it doesn’t matter. So you strip naked, feet making squelching sounds in the mud by the lake side as you step in the water.

The sharp cold has you holding your breath, but you don’t slow down. You’ve never slowed down in life – when you make a decision, you bring it to completion. And you’ve decided to swim, so swim you will.

The warm summer evening breeze catches in your hair as you take another step forward, the water now lapping at your thighs. You dread the moment it’ll hit your core, knowing that that’s the worst part, but you breathe in deeply, moving forward. Because there’s no moving backwards now.

When the water hits, your eyes flutter shut, and you hold in the wince that threatens to escape the mask of calm your features hold. Soon enough, you get deep enough to swim, and the movements bring welcomed warmth to your limbs as you flop on your back, tits out of the water.

Your uncle’s cabin is the only cabin in a fifteen miles radius. You know you won’t be interrupted, and so you let the water cool you down. Calm you down, hold you in its fresh embrace. It undoes knots in your back that have formed from worrying about San, but also from worrying about college.

From worrying that you will never be enough. You think it’s a normal anxiety to have, something most people must feel as they go through the trials of college, not knowing what to expect on the other side. A nice career, perhaps, though the perspective of failure is there too, looming over the horizon.

You sigh, and your eyes flutter open as your legs move mindlessly under you, making sure to keep you afloat. You look up at the azury ceiling over your head, so far away as it slowly turns gold. Out of touch, out of grasp. You watch the fluffy white clouds that are lazily crossing the sky, turning fiery in the sunset, as if they have all the time in the universe. And you wish you were them, up above. With nothing to worry about.

Without a Choi San on the brink of death lying about twenty meters away from you. You sigh, and you turn in the water, with the purpose of swimming again. Though your gaze catches movement by the cabin, and your head snaps towards it to see none other than the supposedly Choi San, standing on the deck with a hand clutching his side.

You shriek, looking down at yourself. Most of you is hidden, but you don’t know how long he’s been there. Don’t know if he’s seen you naked as you looked up at the sky.

He doesn’t move, only watches you where you’re swimming.

“Can you please look away?” you say from the water, and he has the nerves to lean against the railing, eyes still boring into where you’re swimming. You think his gaze might be so hot the water will boil, and it startles you into action.

You start walking out of the water, pointing towards the door. “You shouldn’t be up, Choi San.”

“I feel fine,” he says as you take another step forward, and the water barely hides your tits anymore.

That makes him turn around, as he offers you a little bit of privacy. You’re quick to get out of the water and wrap yourself in the towel you brought outside, and then you collect your clothes to head back to the cabin. San dutifully keeps his gaze away until you’re climbing the three steps leading to the deck, and it’s then that his eyes trail to you again.

“Thank you for the water,” he says, offering you a tentative smile.

You left water by his bedside earlier today hoping it will coax him to wake up. You’re strangely surprised that it worked.

“You should go sit inside,” you scold him, only half-heartedly. Because seeing him up and about reassures you, somehow.

He cocks an eyebrow, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “The weather is beautiful, I’d rather sit outside.”

You roll your eyes, but you do let him walk down the stairs to sit by the fireplace while you go inside to take a quick shower and get dressed. You decide to make some food for him, though you know he shouldn’t eat too much right now, after not having eaten for a while. He has to start slowly, and you don’t even know if he’s hungry anyway.

You settle for preparing a cup of chicken noodle soup for him, so at least it isn’t too heavy on his stomach. You bring it to him outside, as he’s just calmly observing the lake.

“Thank you,” he says, voice small as he grabs the cup and the spoon.

You sit next to him, trying not to watch him eat too much. His hair is sticking to his forehead in some places, and you have the distinct thought that he’ll probably need to shower. At least there’s plenty of rain water in the bucket for the water pump.

“What have you been doing while I was out?” he asks.

You spare him a quick glance before losing your gaze in the rocks of the fireplace. “I’ve studied. Checked up on you. Not much honestly.”

He chuckles. “I’d argue that caring for someone is a lot.”

You glance at him, cheeks burning at the sight of his teasing smile. “Not really.”

He chuckles again, but doesn’t say anything more before eating another spoonful of soup. He’s almost done with the cup when he actually does speak, asking, “How long was I out?”

“A day and a half,” you answer. “I’m actually surprised you haven’t slept longer.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice when he says, “I’m made of tough stuff.”

You snicker, but you don’t say anything, just focusing on where you’re kicking at the dirt. When he’s done with the cup, he puts it down on the ground next to him, before sitting back in the chair. He stretches out his legs in front of him, sighing deeply.

“I still feel out of it,” he admits, and you meet his gaze.

“You can sleep more,” you tell him. “I’d just like to check on the…”

You don’t even have to finish your sentence. He immediately turns so his side is to you, and you have to admit you’ve done a perfectly good job with the stitches.

“So?” he asks.

“All good.” You pat his shoulder. “You can sit comfortably again.”

He’s smiling when he does so, and his gaze wanders to the lake once again. “I’m sorry I…” he trails off, and he chuckles softly. “I’m sorry I interrupted your little swim earlier.”

You have the decency to flush furiously red, and you shrug your shoulders. “No worries, I wasn’t expecting you to be up so soon.”

You fall in a comfortable silence, surprisingly so. Rare stars dot the darkening sky up above, and all that can be heard for a moment is the flap of a bird’s wing as it moves from branches to branches in the trees by the water. The breeze picks up as you watch the little bird, and the leaves dance, loudly so. You’d think it’d be deafening in the silence between you and him, but it’s strangely reassuring.

As if, after all, you found your way back to the field. Only this time it’s completely different, as if decades have passed between you. At least, that’s how it feels like.

You notice San has dozed off in the chair next to you when you were about to speak to him again. To ask him how he’s truly been, in the years between then and now. Hoping to avoid mentioning what led to him coming to you, yesterday, a whole eternity ago.

You watch him, heart aching in your chest. Aching to reach out and brush his hair away from his forehead, aching to heal the cut on his cheek with a gentle swipe of your fingers. If only medicine was so simple…

It seems the peace of the early evening wasn’t going to stay around, because you notice dark clouds rolling in the distance, streaks of lightning cutting through them. Slowly inching closer, menacingly so, and you gently wake San up with your hand on his wrist.

He startles awake, hand shooting to his waist, finding nothing there. It startles you, and you both stare at each other for a moment until you realize what he was looking for.

His gun.

“San…” you let out and he runs his hand through his hair, eyes falling shut as he breathes in and out raggedly.

“Sorry.”

“San, I’m so sorry.”

He doesn’t open his eyes, refuses to let you see the vulnerability you glimpsed behind his piercing gaze. Refuses to acknowledge that he’s terrified, deadly so.

“Let’s go in,” you tell him, softly. Because you’re afraid you’ll spook him, when he’s clearly been living in fear long enough. “There’s a storm coming.”

He nods, carefully getting up without sparing you a glance. He heads inside, hand clutching his side again, while you pick up the chicken noodle soup cup before following him.

You’ve refilled the generator before swimming, so you know it’s been charging the batteries for a while now. You don’t fear ending up in the dark with San, and there’s also always the option of using the lamps and candles your uncle always leave here in case of an emergency.

The storm doesn’t roll in until a little later. You’ve forced San to put a shirt on – mostly so your eyes would stop betraying you, dropping to his toned body whenever he talked to you. You’re currently sitting on the couch, and as the rain starts, hammering against the window behind you, you pull your legs to your chest, wrapping your arms comfortably around them.

“How hard do the storms hit here?” he asks, eyes trailed to the world outside.

You follow his gaze, right as wind picks up to make the water hit the window even harder, creating a cacophony that forces you to speak louder for him to hear. “Pretty hard.”

He nods, and he glances once at you. “Fun.”

You smile, because you’ve always liked storms. Have always found them electrifying, energizing.

“Do you remember when we used to go to the field when it rained?” San asks, taking you by surprise.

Making your heart clench so hard in your chest you have to take a wobbly breath in. If he notices he doesn’t say.

“We were always in that field,” you remind him. “No matter the weather.”

It’s his turn to smile fondly. “It got so pretty with all the wildflowers. But you were afraid of the bees.”

“Bees are scary!” You laugh, and he echoes it with a soft chuckle. “You’re the one that almost pissed yourself when we saw the rat.”

That makes him laugh, and he winces in pain clutching his side. “Gosh, is it supposed to keep on hurting like this?”

It douses your enthusiasm and your smile falls. “Well, it was a solid cut.”

His eyes get lost in the void as he takes on a wistful expression. “I’m surprised I didn’t die.”

You gulp, watching his profile carefully. “It wasn’t deep enough for that…” you trail off, even though you spent most of yesterday and today being convinced he’d die. “At least they didn’t… stab you.”

“They would have if… Wooyoung didn’t shoot.”

You remain silent, not knowing what to reply to that. San interprets that as discomfort, and he quickly adds, “He didn’t shoot them. Just… in the air. It attracted the police.”

You remember the cars zooming past the diner a lifetime ago, and you nod your head. “I heard.”

He seems surprised, and his gaze finally finds yours again. “You did?”

“Yeah.” You chuckle, a little awkwardly. “I hear a lot of shootings, in the diner.”

His eyes widen, mouth falling open cutely. “You do?”

You don’t know what he expected. The diner is right between Ateez and Bangtan territory, and as much as it is a safe space, it is also near enough to dangerous grounds, and you’ve heard plenty of shooting in your time working there.

“Always,” you admit. “It can get scary sometimes… but you also get used to it.”

He looks sad. Infinitely so, like a lost puppy. That’s when the first thunder hits, so sharp and sudden you startle. Not quite as much as San, who ducks, wincing in pain as he clutches his side.

“Shit,” he curses. “Sorry.”

“What’s wrong?” you ask, in time with another thunderclap, though this time it’s more of a rumble.

You watch his chest as he breathes in and out quickly. “Just… fuck.”

Now, concern grows in you, and you gently put a hand on his shoulder. “San…”

He meets your gaze, and there’s so much white in his it makes you think of a terrified prey. And then it clicks: he thought it was a gunshot.

“Hey,” you quickly say, moving closer to him. You’re on the side of the stitches, so you still keep a safe distance between the two of you, but you grab his hand nonetheless. “You’re okay.”

“Fuck,” is all he’s able to say.

“I promise, no one’s going to find you here.”

He remains silent this time around, eyes still boring into yours. You take that as a cue to continue, because you don’t want him to panic. You want his thoughts here, with you, and not miles away in a city he should have escaped from years ago. You wish he had, knowing the atrocities that he would have avoided.

Would he have escaped with you, had you stayed just a little longer?

“I killed someone,” he says, and you balk at the silver lining his gaze. “I fucking killed him.”

You don’t know how to help. All you can think to do is cup his cheek, right as he starts breathing even faster. “Breathe with me, San.”

He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes fall to your mouth. You make a good show of inhaling slowly, before exhaling even slower. It takes him a moment but he eventually follows your lead.

It breaks when there’s another sharp thunderclap, and he flinches, eyes shutting instinctively.

“Hey hey hey,” you say again, even more gentle, softer than before. You move even closer, and when a tear slips out of his closed eyes, you pull him into a hug, careful not to brush his side.

His head falls on your shoulder, and one of his arms wrap around your waist. A thunderclap later, he starts sobbing, fist balling the fabric of your shirt in his tight hold, and you let him do it. You let him hold onto you, hoping it’ll keep him here with you. Hoping it’ll keep him afloat during the storm that’s raging both outside and in his mind.

“It’s going to be okay,” you breathe, and you feel like you’re lying to him.

Because how can he ever be safe from the ghosts inside of his skull? The ghosts wandering the halls of him, tainting his soul with their presence?

“He’s never going to smile again,” San chokes out. “Everyone loved him. Even in Ateez… Jungkook was the best of us. The only one who had a shot at getting out of it.”

You don’t know how good he could have been, if he was a member of Bangtan. In your mind, you’d always seen Bangtan as the bad guys, mostly because they weren’t with San. Even when you had been struggling to evade that life, you’d still rooted for him.

It’s strange how you just realize that now, as you’re holding him while he breaks.

“You didn’t mean to kill him,” you remind San, still speaking with the calmest voice you can muster up. “You didn’t want to, San. You’re not a murderer.”

“I’m still a killer,” he says. He sounds angry, and you reckon he might be angry at himself. Might be consumed with his actions, dragged to hell before his time as his mind gets stuck replaying the events.

“Maybe,” you answer. “But,” you quickly add when he stiffens in your arms. “But you can spend the rest of your life making up for it. Repenting.”

He doesn’t respond right away, as he breaks some more, sobs rocking through him. You’ve never seen him like this, not even when you were younger and in love. It makes your gaze wet, yet you hold on strong for him. You keep your head held high, and you allow him to break in the safe haven that your arms represent.

Because to him, you’ve never been tainted. You’ve always been the ideal he was trying to pursue, albeit the wrong way.

“I don’t know how to repent,” he admits when he calms down. He turns his head, and his nose brushes along the skin of your neck, slightly tickling you. You ignore the feeling, especially as he adds, “Ateez… it’s all I’ve ever known.”

You run a hand on his back, soothingly. “It isn’t.”

Because there was you, too. There was the summer field and the twinkling stars and Artic Monkeys on the radio. There was the two of you, petal-soft kisses exchanged in the dead of night and in the brightness of day. There were rainy days, and then there was rain. There was him walking away, and you hate yourself then.

You wish you had stopped him that day, had kept him from going on to become what he’s become now. A person he clearly hates, someone that has a bounty on his head. Someone that doesn’t even believe they’re allowed redemption and you reckon you don’t even know if he is.

You only know that seeing him break is bending your will, the way the wind outside is bending the trees. All you can hope is that, like the tall trees, you won’t break.

*****

The storm calmed down sometime around midnight. San ended up falling asleep on the couch, as you’d reassuringly ran your hand through his hair, trying to keep him with you. Though you think he’s been slipping through your fingers, into his demons.

You’ll find a way to bring him back. You have to. Turns out it comes faster than you think, as the electricity runs out and you busy yourself with lighting some candles throughout the main room. When you’re done, you put a blanket over him, and you almost let out a startled scream as his eyes shot open.

“Hello,” you say, resting a hand on your heart to tame the wild beats.

You’re about to move away, but he grabs your hand, forcing you to sit next to him. You don’t really resist, though you think you probably should. You’re weak – weaker still when he murmurs your name.

“San,” you whisper in return, and you’re aware your voice carries too much longing. Longing for a past when life’s atrocities hadn’t changed either of you yet.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologizes, and a tear rolls on his cheek.

You dry it, fingers lingering there. “It’s okay.”

“Angel…”

The nickname brings you back to laser quests and favours and warmth creeping up your stomach for the first time in your life.

“I’m no angel,” you breathe.

“You saved me.”

You hold his gaze. There’s something hiding behind his pupils. The need, to forget. You don’t think you have the ability to run his mind through amnesia, but still you brush his cheek again.

“You deserved saving.”

His eyes glaze once more, though this time no tears fall. “It’s hard to believe it.”

“Do you still believe love is a laser quest?” you ask him, out of the blue.

As if you’re a line straight of that Arctic Monkeys song you listened to the first time you kissed.

“Maybe,” he says, a parallel to that first time you had asked the question. “Maybe it is.”

You can’t resist. You lean down, and you press the gentlest kiss on his lips. His are dry, but the way he sighs with you against him is soft, for your heart and for your mind, and you kiss him again. He lets you lead, follows the dance of your lips, lets you run your hand through his sweaty hair.

Even if you shouldn’t. Even if you know everything you’re doing right now is a mistake, you still find yourself deepening the kiss, opening your lips to slip your tongue out, teasing his mouth. One of his hands finds your thigh, and he squeezes ever so slightly as his tongue finds yours, and you let out a breathy sound.

When you pull away, eyes fluttering open, you find San’s gaze. You think about the boy he was then, the girl you were then. You think about who you were, together. And when he says, “Please make me forget”, you lean again, capturing his mouth in a languid kiss.

For a reason unknown, the summer sky and falling stars pale in comparison to this kiss. Maybe because it holds longing, nostalgia. Hope that life would have turned out differently. For a moment, you picture what it would have been like, without Ateez. With you and him in the field, in your family house, in a car driving by the beach, windows down as the sun sets and you sing along to the radio, wind blowing in your hair.

You see a whole life there, with you and him marrying in the field, under the sun that had been the host of your first love. You imagine growing up by his side, attending college with him in the big city. You imagine how he would have become the owner of his own construction company, like his dad before him. You picture kids laughing, running around the house he would have built for you. You see Christmas light, late nights antics by the firelight.

You see it all, and you know you’ll never have any of it. But if you can have tonight, then you’ll grab it before it slips through your fingers. Before he walks away in the rain again, only to be a memory you cherish in the deepest corners of your heart.

“How?” you ask him when you pull away.

Mostly, you’re asking how to make him forget. But you’re also asking how it is that the feelings are still there, even stronger now, as if they’ve grown up with you, yet haven’t changed like you have. Like they are a constant of an ever-changing universe.

“Kiss me again,” he asks, begs, and you give in. You kiss him wildly, always making sure not to touch his side and the stitches.

You know sex would be a stupid idea, especially with the fresh stitches. But also because he’s barely had time to recover. But he doesn’t really give you a choice, pulling you on top of him until you’re straddling him.

You sit back on him for a second, eyes trailing to the spot where you know the stitches are. “This isn’t a good idea,” you whisper through the ragged breaths caused by the ministrations of his mouth on yours and of yours on his.

“I’m fine,” he says, and you know you shouldn’t believe him. But when he pulls you down again, large hand holding the nape of your neck firmly so you don’t escape, you want to believe him.

Want to believe the beauty of his lies, like you had when you were younger.

From where you’re perched, you can feel the start of his erection pressing against you, and you moan softly in the kiss, rolling your hips. His mouth falls open, and you capture his tongue, sucking on it once before you pull away, leaving hot kisses on his jaw.

“Sit on my face,” he says, and he sounds out of his mind. Crazed, a little like you too feel at the moment.

“What?”

“Can’t get hurt if you sit on my face, angel,” he explains, and then hisses when you suck a hickey on his neck.

You let him pull your shirt off, unclasping your bra yourself as you sit back on his lap. He cups your breasts, rolling your erect nipples between his thumbs and indexes. You moan again, grinding your hips into his, and he hisses once more.

“You want to taste me?” you ask, head throwing back as he pinches your nipples hard.

“I’d fuck you, but you’re the doctor. Can’t risk fucking up my stitches, huh?” he replies, voice low and husky.

Your core heats up, pussy clenching around nothing. This is a side of him you’ve never seen, though you spy desperation beneath it. Like he thinks he doesn’t have forever, when it comes to you.

He’s right. Because tomorrow, you’ll have to go back into town, into the hellscape you call home. What will be left of the two of you then?

So when he tugs at your pants, you give in and get up, taking off your pants and panties in one swift motion. You step out of them, blood heating up by the way he’s looking at you through half-lidded eyes, gaze burning on you.

You have half a thought that you could probably ride him instead of his face, but when you see his pink tongue darting out to wet his lips, making them glisten in the candlelight, you need to know what it’ll feel like against you.

So you straddle his face as he guides you down, large hands pushing on your thighs until your pussy is a hairsbreadth away from his lips. He blows on it, and your eyes shut with sensitivity. You clutch the cushion of the couch, hoping it’ll help steady you, but the moment his tongue flicks at your clit, you realize nothing will be able to steady you. Yet you still hold onto it, especially as he dives his tongue between your folds, lapping up your juice. He moans in contentment, before moving to your clit again. And his tongue is wicked down there, like it knows exactly what you like.

You grab a handful of his hair, grinding into his face. You’re pretty sure he’s chuckling down there, and then he unleashes himself. Sucking hard, alternating circling motions to teasing you with his teeth. You’d expect the latter to hurt, but the way he does it just makes you see stars, and your pussy clenches around nothing again.

San is deadly good with his mouth. Both with crafting lies and pulling moans out of you, and your thighs tighten against his face as he sucks particularly hard, before dipping his tongue inside of you. His nose brushes your clit, and then he forces you to properly sit on him.

The way his tongue moves inside of you, lapping up your juices while opening you up, has you on the brink of an orgasm in no time. Especially as he makes you grind again, holding you tight into place. When one of his hands moves from around your thigh to reach your clit, you cry out, head throwing back.

He’s quick to rub at your sensitive clit, and you grab one of your breasts, massaging it mindlessly before you pinch your nipple, hard, right in time with a skilled swipe of his tongue. Your orgasm meets you there, shaking through you as it explodes in a blinding flash of light. You moan, loudly, something that resembles his name, and he keeps you going, guides you through your high until you cringe with oversensitivity.

Only then does he let you climb off from his face. You stand on wobbly legs, before deciding to sit next to him, and you catch sight of the smirk on his lips. It makes you blush, right as you realize what you’ve just done.

When you realize what kind of sinful activity he’s dragged you in, this time around.

“Gosh,” is all you manage to say.

He chuckles, clearly proud with himself. “That felt good?”

You worry at your bottom lip, eyes going down to the tent in his pants. You want to pleasure him too, to take him in your mouth and make him feel good, but he stops you with a hand wrapped around your wrist.

“Don’t.”

You still and you meet his gaze with slightly-widened eyes. “Why not?”

His features turn somber, haunted, and the heat of the moment passes so quickly you think it might have been a figment of your imagination.

Were you really riding his face just a moment ago?

“Please just lay next to me,” he says, barely even a whisper.

You don’t know a lot of men that would choose cuddling over getting a blowjob, but if that is what he wants, then you’ll give it to him. You lay next to him, glad that the injured side is closer to the couch. That way, you can cuddle up to him, resting your head on his shoulder while he wraps an arm around you.

“Angel,” he murmurs after a time. “You’re a fucking angel. I think you’re my salvation.”

You highly doubt you hold this kind of power, but you don’t want to tell him. Have never been good at weaving beautiful lies for him to believe.

“We should stay here,” he continues. “Forever.”

And you wish you could. Wish reality didn’t exist, didn’t call for you to go back to your regular life like you’ve never been here with him. But you know tomorrow exists, and you’ll have to leave.

“We should have stayed in the field,” you choose to answer. “Under the shooting stars.”

“I wished for a lifetime with you, then,” he admits. “I wished I’d never have to let you go.”

You’d wished for a similar thing, but life is far too cruel to allow a world of first loves.

“Why did you…” you trail off. The question has haunted your sleepless nights for a long time after the break-up. Even years later, you’d still think about it sometimes, wondering if nostalgia would choke you up. “Why did you decide to join the gang?”

He tenses next to you. But you start tracing a mindless circle on his chest, through the shirt, and it distracts him enough for him to reply. “I thought I didn’t have a choice.”

“Did you?”

His voice holds the weight of the world when he says, “I did. And I made the wrong one.”

You want to cry, but you’re older now. You’re not the teenager who thought she was going to die from losing him anymore. You know what living without Choi San is like, and as much as it hurts, you know that it’s doable.

“You made the one you believed was right,” you say carefully. “But I do wish you had made a different one.”

He holds you a little tighter, as if that will make it so tomorrow never comes. “Me too.”

There’s an eternity of flickering candlelight on the ceiling, of the circles you trace on his chest and of your breathings forming a melody. Outside, the wind has died down, and the world is silent except from an occasional cricket braving the world after the storm.

“Where will you go, once you graduate?” he asks, taking you by surprise.

Because he knows. It’s one of the few things that hasn’t changed.

“As far away from here as I can.”

“I hope you find peace, wherever you go,” he whispers. “I hope you forget all about how we grew up in a hellhole.”

Do you feel bad for saying it? Maybe. But you can’t help saying it anyway. “I will, San.”

And like that rainy day years ago, you think you can see him walk away.

*****

Seven years later

The winter sun is strangely bright, up above. You’d think it will warm you up, but the cold is relentless, violent, and it sneaks into your coat as you walk out of the hospital. You’ve just finished a thirty-hour shift, and you can’t wait to be home.

To take a shower and forget that you’ve lost a patient today.

But you’ve saved another. A young man, with a stab wound in his ribs that should have killed him. But you saved him, stabilized his condition to the point you don’t have to worry about him anymore. Which is the only reason why you’re allowing yourself to leave now.

You’re never able to leave until you know your patients are okay. It’s been that way since your first patient, in a cabin in the woods you’ve done your best to forget.

You’d let San stay, after that weekend. He had given you the number of one of his friends, so you could get some clothes for him, and you’d gone back the next weekend. Bringing him the clothes, making love to him under the moonlight as if that would change the ending.

The following week, you had gone back to find the cabin empty. He’d left a note behind.

I hope I can find you again, wherever you go.

You kept the note. It’s in your bedside table, back at home, in the nice apartment you’ve been able to rent for yourself with all the money you’ve been making now. Enough to pay back student loans from med school, enough to reassure you that never again will you struggle.

You’ve never seen San again after. He hasn’t found you, and you haven’t searched for him. Have only looked up his name a couple of times, in the months following his disappearing, scared you’d find out that he was found dead in a ditch. But his name never came up, and you wondered if he had managed to escape, if he had managed to find a place where Bangtan couldn’t reach him.

You found peace, on your side of the country. Life is kinder here, though it still holds the same atrocities. You wonder if it’s the novelty of the city, or maybe if you’ve just grown old enough to be able to withstand the bad that the world throws your way. It’s hard to tell – you haven’t kept contact with anyone from back home, except Jae-on.

Jae-on, who’s moved with you when you’ve decided to come here, like he said he would. Jae-on, who asked you to marry him in late October, and you said yes. The ring sits heavy on your finger, and you mindlessly play with it.

In another world, you would already be married to Choi San. Sometimes, you catch glimpses of that world – a piercing gaze in the morning, a smile and a kiss to your temple. Talks about angels, children screaming in happiness. In another world, you’d be pregnant again, waiting patiently to add another piece of you and him to this world.

It’s fun to think about, sometimes, but you’ve been good at forgetting. Like you told him you would – most times, you’ve forgotten all about Choi San.

But today, you had a patient that reminded you of him. So you allow yourself to feel, you allow yourself to think about that note tucked in the bottom drawer of your bedside table, hidden under the thick socks you never use.

You allow yourself to think about the cabin in the woods, about the field where you would have gotten married had you been in that picturesque world you like to imagine. You think about laser quests and first kiss and rainy days and meteors. You think about summer, about wildflowers and him.

You’re so lost in thought you miss your stop home, and you begrudgingly get out at the next one. You’re tired, and your hands are shaking as you pull your phone out of your tote bag, wanting to text Jae-on that you’re going to be home late because you missed your stop. You walk to the other side of the tracks, sighing when you see a five-minutes wait for the next subway.

At least the sun is high in the sky, even though it is dreadfully cold. You shiver, putting your phone back in your tote bag so you can hide your hands in your sleeves again, hoping it’ll preserve them from the cold.

In your exhaustion, you forgot your gloves back at the hospital, you realize. It’s strange that you only realize now, and you reckon you really need to sleep, because your brain isn’t even working right anymore.

You sigh, glancing at the display showing the time. Still four minutes to wait. You think at this rhythm you might freeze in your spot before the next subway comes. You try to hide your face in the lapel of your coat, but a movement on the other platform attracts your gaze.

A man is helping an older woman climb down the stairs. She’s speaking loudly, which might be what attracted your gaze in the first place. You follow them as they walk down the stairs, and then when the man turns towards you, you meet his piercing gaze.

He smiles, and you realize that maybe, all those years ago, he was not spinning lies to you after all.

☆☆☆☆☆

Gosh yeahhh rereading it had me ralize that it is a lot sadder than I remembered it to be. At least we got an open ending ... :') What did we think? Should I write about other groups more often? Let me know what you think! All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2023. Do not copy, repost or translate

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carmyboobear · 2 months

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how do you think losing your v card to carmy would be like?

WOW. I have to just share my thoughts in a messy format for now but i will HAVE to write a fic about this. I honestly never thought about this before but now I’m feeling…sweaty!

Read more bc I got carried away, includes: fingering!!!!!!!!!!!!😳

As we all know I’m a virgin Carmy truther… but for this I can’t stop thinking about the idea of like…a newly experienced Carmy that’s really eager to please. Like he’s still been bitchless for most of his life LOL. Ig the specifics aren’t super important tho

He would take it slow, ask you a lot of questions. “Do you like it when I touch you like this?” He would ask, carefully rubbing circles in your clit. “Tell me,” he would say if you didn’t answer. He’s sweet, but I think he likes seeing the effect he has on you. He’s gentle, but can’t resist pushing your buttons (in a good way). He rubs your clit until you come, ensuring you’re wet enough to take his fingers.

What I’m REALLY thinking about is how he would open you up next. Oh my god. He starts with just one finger, pushing in slowly, massaging your clit with his other hand.

“You’ve never been filled up before, so I gotta make sure you’re ready for me,” he’d say, explaining why he keeps fingering you even though you swear you’re ready for him, you promise. One becomes two, his index and middle slowly scissoring you, and then that becomes a third one. You’re far wetter than you ever have been and you’re not sure if he shows signs of stopping. He took his other hand off your clit a while ago so you wouldn’t come, but sometimes it idly traces your folds curving around the shape of his fingers.

“I’ve fingered myself before,” you’d argue, but the argument sounds weak when he’s three thick fingers deep into your pussy. He knows this, too. He’d like to see that another time.

“I know, baby. Just a little longer.” You’re not sure how long it’s been, but the truth is, he’s kept you there for 30 minutes, just slowly working you open. And now he’s sneaking a fourth finger inside. “Does it hurt?” He’d ask gently. “Rub your clit if you need it, but don’t come.”

Finally, finally, after working you up to four fingers, you’re loose and open for him. Sure enough, he fits like a dream, and even then, you can feel why he worked you open the way he did. Carmy is thick, and he fills you up.

You don’t last long, not with how much Carmy’s fingered you. Your come so hard, gasping at the raw feeling of coming on his cock. You’re clenching and so wet that Carmy comes super quickly after. He got pretty worked up, hearing you moan so much for him earlier.

“Was that good for you?” He’d ask after when you guys are cuddling post-sex, like he didn’t just finger blast you. “So I know for next time,” he’d say, and by the look on his face, he can tell the answer you’re gonna have to his question. Smug ass LOL

Sooooo yeah. That is my vision (bows and leaves the room)

#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #the bear #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x you #my blurbs #my asks #my smut #I think ppl are rly into the idea of losing a v card for different reasons than I explored here but I hope y’all can still enjoy

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cinnajun · 10 months

Text

ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗: zb1 and long distance relationships

a/n: this was a fun request :) just in general, i think these guys would be pretty good at it (save for a few of them), mostly bc they’re young and very online

notes: yujin is not included due to his age!

wc | 2.5k

from worst to best at handling it

jiwoong

long distance with jiwoong is just point blank difficult

like i’ve said before i feel like relationships with jiwoong are long lasting so

when you receive whatever opportunity that requires your presence overseas, you’ve been dating for at least a couple of years

your routine is set and there’s a high probability you’re living together

so it’s a major disruption in the flow of your lives

and it’s not to say that jiwoong doesn’t want you to go, nor does he want things between you two to end

it’s just hard to wrap his mind around not having you around for dinner or having to sleep alone :(

so yeah safe to say this is going to be a very difficult time in your lives

depending on how far you are, jiwoong will absolutely be visiting you and staying in whatever apartment you’ve found yourself in

if you’re close enough (aka flight less than 5 hours) he’ll visit multiple times, but anything more than that he’ll probably end up only going once

it’s hard to get time off when you’re a working adult </3

it’s the most difficult for the both of you during holidays

there are days off you had in korea that you don’t have off now, so you physically hurt knowing that jiwoong is sitting at home instead of being on your celebratory day-off dates

and it’s just hard to keep him updated on your life

you fall into a routine of when to call each other and whatnot pretty quickly though

you also write things you want to tell him down in your notes app so when you’re talking you don’t miss anything

and really the main thing that gets you through this is those little sort of habits that you learn to have along the way

but man. you cannot wait to go home

hanbin

this might be a hot take but i think hanbin would hate being in a long distance relationship

in the beginning, he’s absolutely convinced that everything will be fine and nothing will change

his mindset is “i kept my friendship with matthew up while he was in canada, so what’s stopping me from keeping up my relationship with my s/o”

and then a week passed without you and he got really depressed

i think being in a relationship with hanbin means spending a lot of time together, holding hands, and staying near him

so when you’re so far that he can’t even fly to you easily it’s just so difficult for him

but his last resort is breaking up with you

like it’s seriously his worst-case scenario

when hanbin loves someone, he loves them very, very hard

so he will do everything in his power to keep your relationship going, but relationships are a two way street

so you need to put in the work that he’s putting in, too

obviously you’re likely abroad because you’ve taken an opportunity (aka a job) so you can’t be online all the time but

call him when you’re free, tell him when you’re going to be busy, and let him know about every single little victory that you have so you can celebrate together

and, for the love of god, do NOT bring up the fact that you can tell he hates long distance

i’m so serious with this one

hanbin absolutely will not tell you that he doesn’t like it

because, if he knows you know, he’ll feel like you feel like he’s not willing to fight for your relationship (does this sentence make sense)

but just know when you get back you’ll watch him finally relax after like 50 years lol

taerae

i’m going to keep it short: taerae’s heart shatters into a million pieces when you break the news to him lol

like obviously he tells you he’s proud of you and that he couldn’t be more excited for you it’s just that he’s actively crying as he says that

with taerae i think you actually almost reject whatever offer you’ve received, but you pretty quickly realize that doing that would make him feel worse so you decide to muscle through it

the worst part of long distance with taerae is the like week before you leave

he cries a lot and then feels bad for crying but he doesn’t want you to go you know

when he drops you off at the airport you have to take hanbin with you because he’s crying too hard to drive back to his apartment

he hugs you outside the airport doors for like 5 minutes and hanbin has to be like okay … let’s go now … okay … we need to let them get on their flight …

and then you ugly cry for half the flight … like someone reports you to the flight attendant and they’re like is everything okay ?? and you’re like no i just left my boyfriend in korea

after that i think it’s not nearly as bad as you both thought it was going to be LOL

he’s a lil bit (incredibly) clingy at first and gets rly butthurt when you don’t update him on your every move, but then he cries to hao and hao is like “here are some tips!”

then he’s very sweet

taerae will send you videos of him playing the guitar or of him just screwing around with the boys

he also sends you cringy little paragraphs about how much he loves you and how proud of you he is

obviously taerae misses you but tbh it’s like you never left

the only reason he’s not higher up is the pure agony you went through for that week before

taerae the man that you are

gunwook

graduated from taerae school of how do i deal with my s/o going abroad for a bit

he acts all cool with it

when he drops you off at the airport he gives you the gunwook bear hug and is like “i’ll see you later! love you!”

then you get off the plane 10+ hours later and you have like 17 texts from gyuvin describing gunwook going through the 5 stages of grief

it’s actually kinda funny ngl because it’s like a picture of him hugging a pillow with a pint of ice cream in his hand while he watches your favorite movie and cries

also like taerae, everything is absolutely fine within like a week

gunwook’s really cheesy while you’re gone though and that’s how you tell he really misses you

he’s making playlists and posting old cute pics of u on his story with the caption “10,000 km away”

gyuvin also told you that he giggles and kicks his legs every time you text him when he’s not expecting it

he also just hangs out with your family while you’re abroad

he’ll text you like “damn y/n your mom made the most delicious dinner tonight” and you’re like ??? without me????

you later find out your mom invited him over so they could be sad and miss you together which is soooo embarrassing

gunwook will mail you random items from your room and with a note that says “why didn’t you take this” as if you didn’t meticulously pack every single thing you brought with you

so then you have to spend money to mail it back because you don’t want to have to buy another suitcase (you end up having to anyway, but you’re still glad you mailed the things back)

when you get back he cries in your arms for like an hour lol

gyuvin

gyuvin acts like it’s not a big deal but lowkey it’s the biggest deal in his life

he’s like “omg congrats do u wanna get dinner”

that night he cries in hao’s arms like a little baby and then he gets over it

he’s genuinely so happy for you, and there are no strings attached to that excitement

one of his closest friends left his home to pursue his dreams so he should let you leave to pursue them too, you know?

the only reason gyuvin isn’t higher actually is because the other three are long distance from everyone they know LOL

long distance with gyuvin is remarkably similar to just being there with him

when he’s hanging out with friends you’ll be on the phone (albeit muted) just in case you need to contribute to the conversation

and he gets really excited when you have him on the phone while you chill out with your (new) friends

assuming you’re studying abroad because gyuvin’s not old enough to have an s/o with a job that has overseas opportunity, a lot of your time is spent in your dorm so you can call him </3

gyuvin is very popular with your overseas friends and they all follow him on instagram

any time someone hits on you they let him know and also let him know that they told whoever hit on you that you’re TAKEN!!

obviously he doesn’t enjoy knowing that people are hitting on you and he can’t do anything about it but he appreciates that your friends shut it down

all in all i think this is a healthy era of your relatioship and it strengthens your trust in one another a lot

but he prefers you being there with him so come home soon pretty please <3

ricky

yeah long distance with ricky is barely an issue

like when you tell him he’s like “oh…okay” and then he’s sad for a little bit

but then he’s sending you off like nothing is wrong!!! and truly nothing is wrong

i think actually you’d be more sad than ricky is but that’s not to say he’s not going to miss you at all

of course he is

but ricky is a seasoned misser and knows how to keep up relationships from far away (even if he’s never had experience with it being a romantic relationship) so he’s mostly concerned with brainstorming the best ways to like keep things going in a way that isn’t jarring

he consults pretty much everyone he knows on what they think he should do, almost like he’s collecting data or something

so once you actually leave ricky is pretty interactive and prepared for your escapade!!!!

he texts you at specific times of day he knows you aren’t busy and you schedule daily calls at the same time once you know your every day schedule

like gyuvin i’m assuming you’re studying abroad, so your class schedule is on ricky’s home screen (it’s a picture widget) but it’s been translated into his timezone

sometimes he texts you during classes he knows you don’t like and you’re like … isn’t it 4 in the morning

he doesn’t answer that question

but to be fair you do the exact same thing so can you really talk…

like gyuvin, your overseas friends LOVE ricky

sometimes he will sponsor you doordashing dinner and by extension your friends (except you make them pay him back LOL)

and they think he’s the funniest guy ever

bonus: sometimes gyuvin will text you pictures of him scrolling through old texts </3

hao

is this at all shocking

he’s so perfect

doesn’t even bat an eye when you tell him you want to go away for this opportunity you have

“okay! how long until you leave? are they paying for your flights? do you want to start packing now? do we need to get clothes for different weather?”

once you’re off he does get a bit sad but he promises himself that by the time you’re off the plane he’ll be feeling better

he breaks the promise but you don’t know that because he acts like everything is just fine!!!

throughout the duration of your time away, communication with hao is very steady and consistent

you’re each putting in enough energy for a perfect 50/50 split <3

when you start making friends overseas, you show them hao and they’re in awe that you managed to bag the most perfect person on earth

this makes you sad, not because you’re jealous, but because hao would say they should be more surprised he managed to bag you </3

like ricky, he will also sponsor your meals from time to time!! sometimes he doordashes stuff to your place without even telling you like its that serious

hao is the champion at curing your homesickness, mostly because he figured out how to cure it for himself first

if you ever feel like things are too much and you need to leave, he will drop everything to go out there and get you feeling back up to things

he sends little presents every time you have a big achievement or an exciting event

and he’s the number one endorser of getting yourself little treats when you’re feeling proud of yourself

he’s so proud of you

and he’s so happy you got to experience something so exciting

but he can’t lie, it is a big breath of fresh air when you get back lol

matthew

tbh for the sake of this let’s pretend you went to canada bc

why can i see you moving in with matthew’s family idk

you tell him about the opportunity and he’s like My mom will host you

you end up living with his sister LOL

because of that it’s barely like you’re gone

i mean he can come visit you for an extended amount of time and he gets to see his family so its like 2 in 1

in all actuality it doesn’t matter where you go, long distance with matthew is EASY PEASY!!!

i can see him being really trusting in a relationship and that makes things so much easier than not

the first time you get invited out you ask him “hey i got invited to a party tonight, is it okay if i go” and he’s like “ya why wouldn’t it be?? why are you asking me??”

okay feminist

he makes you watch anime with him over like teleparty or something </3 but it’s cute bc his chat reactions are like adorable

#3 of the “your friends love him squad”

they all ask you how you managed to find him because he literally doesn’t care what you do as long as you’re not cheating on him (and you would never do this)

and he’s all happy go lucky every time you talk

when he visits they’re in love with him (PLATONICALLY)

they all ask about his friends in the “haha do you have a brother” way and he’s like “my friend hanbin!”

so now all of your overseas friends want to date hanbin which is awkward

he will also make you buy like presents and things for his friends’/family’s birthdays

obviously with his money but he’s like “can you go to (store) and pick up (item) and then wrap it up and give it to my mom”

it’s very silly

all in all matthew is the long distance relationship you DESERVE!!!!

thank you for reading!

#cinna.zb1 #zb1 x reader #zerobaseone x reader #zb1 scenarios #zb1 fluff #zb1 reactions #zb1 headcanons #jiwoong x reader #zhang hao x reader #hanbin x reader #sung hanbin x reader #seok matthew x reader #taerae x reader #ricky x reader #gyuvin x reader #gunwook x reader #req

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nickfowlerrr · 10 months

Text

for the hope of it all.

pairing: greedy!lee bodecker x curvy!reader

warnings: angst. bit of fluff. mentions of reader x arvin and lee x wife. little flashback to pregnant reader. uhhh, there’s a baby. if i’m missing something important please feel free to let me know.

also lmk if i should tag this as dark!lee please bc i can’t decide if it needs it or not.

words: 3.2k

notes: my first written fic for my writing event. i spun the wheel and got greed and then spun another wheel and got lee and a few hours later here we are lol. please let me know what you think! comments and feedback are so, so appreciated. thank you in advance to everyone who reads and reblogs. 🖤

“Please, Lee. Please,” you whispered, voice breaking on the desperate plea as the stray tear you’d been fighting to keep at bay finally slipped down your cheek.

You were quick to wipe it away, shaking your head and looking away from the gaze of the man before you. The smirk that graced his face was the whole reason you had refused to let yourself cry, despite wanting to break down the moment he’d knocked on your door.

You’d just set Teddy in his crib, watching him a moment as the newborn slept peacefully, his tiny breaths and little movements making your heart clench.

You never knew you could love someone so much until you had him. Despite the pain and all the hardships that you’d faced from the day you met his daddy, as you watched Theodore, you were sure you wouldn’t change any of it if it meant never having had him.

You were pulled from your thoughts when you heard a car pull up the drive. You didn’t check the window, sure you knew who it was already as you went to greet him.

Before you were even halfway down the steps, an unnecessarily loud pounding sounded from the front door.

You were startled for a second, brows furrowing as you rushed down the last few steps to open it before whoever it was could pound again and wake the baby.

You were sure now, though, it definitely wasn’t Arvin. He’d never be so careless to knock that loudly, even if he’d left his key and was locked out.

When you pulled the door open in a bit of a huff, your breath froze in your chest.

As you met the hard blue eyes of the man you’d been avoiding for the past 11 months, you weren’t sure what to do. So, you stayed as you were, blocking his view of the house as you pulled the door more closely to your body and watched him. You wouldn’t speak first. You weren’t sure you could.

“Been a while, darlin’.” He greeted, though his words were cold and stiff, as if he was trying to hold in the anger you could see raging in his eyes.

You swallowed hard. “How can I help you, Sheriff?” you asked, ignoring his comment.

He scoffed as he looked down on you. “That’s how you wanna do this, sugar? Fine,” he said before shoving his way into the house.

You were in shock as he pushed past you, your first instinct to yell at him was held back by the knowledge that your baby was asleep just up the stairs.

“What the hell are you doing? You can’t just barge in here because you’re police,” you nearly seethed as you follow him while he walked further in, going toward the kitchen while he looked around the place.

He spun on you at your words and stopped you in your spot. “Honey, I can do whatever the hell I want. Because I’m the sheriff,” he snarled in your face before he backed up just the slightest. He adjusted his belt as he stood to his full height and licked his teeth, trying to compose himself.

“I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news for you, sweetheart,” he started, your heart dropping instantly. “That boyfriend a’yours seems to have gotten himself into some trouble downtown.”

Your mouth went dry as you stared at him dumbly. “No,” you shook your head. “Arvin wouldn’t do anything to get into any kind of trouble. What are you- what are you talking about?” you tried to stay calm, but the stutter was surely telling enough.

“Down at the shop,” he began, taking his time, seemingly enjoying the sight of your anxiousness written all over your face, “he had some words with Levi. Guess the kid made a comment about his girl. Imagine my surprise to find out that girl was you,” he detoured.

“What happened,” you asked pointedly, all while trying to keep your composure and your voice down.

“Well, Mr. Russell didn’t take too kindly to the things Levi said. Lost his temper. I’ll spare you the details, sweetheart. Long story short, Levi’s up at the hospital. Your little boyfriend is up at the jailhouse, waitin’ for his hearin tomorrow mornin’.”

You felt sick. This wasn’t Arvin’s first time in jail but you remember what he told you last time, the judge said one more strike and he’d be taken to county. Arvin wasn’t a bad man. He was one of the best men you’d ever known. But he did have a bit of a short fuse when it came to defending the people he loved. You’d known that since you were in school together. It was one of the things you’d always admired about him..

The one thing you were confused about right now though, was why in the hell Lee was here telling you this.

“Is he okay?” you asked quietly. The narrowing of Lee’s eyes as he looked at you, and the tick of his jaw at your question had your stomach twisting.

“Aw, ain’t that sweet. Look at you, all worried about him.”

“Lee,” you said.

“He’ll be fine,” he gruffed as he went into your fridge and took one of Arvin’s beers. You were in too much of a stupor to do or say anything about it, though.

As you watched him take a swig, your eyes finally fell on his bloodied knuckles.

You took a step back, as if he’d slapped you, somehow knowing exactly how he'd done that.

“What did you do?” you said, accusingly as you reached out and held onto the wall beside you.

“Told ya' I was surprised to hear the girl he was so concerned with, whose honor he needed to protect so badly, was you. I thought you were long gone, sweetheart. But when your name came up, I knew I’d been wrong. Knew you were somewhere out here. Took a bit to finally get him to tell me where you were, but,” he flexed his hand, “they all break in the end.”

You were seeing red at his words. He'd hurt Arvin, and for what? You couldn't let him do this, couldn't let him get to you so easily.

"You need to leave, Lee. Now. If I wanted you to know where I was, you would've. I told you I wasn't gonna wait around for you. You made your choice. So go," you said firmly as you could manage through your tight throat.

You stayed still as he set the bottle down on the counter, stalking over to you. You only blinked when he was right in front of you as you took a shaky breath in and out.

"My choice was you," he said as he pinned you against the wall, his arms trapping you. But you weren't scared. Just solemn. The hurt that never went away radiating in your soul.

"...No, it wasn't," you refuted, voice quiet as you shook your head, looking him in the eye. "It was the job. It was her. You just wanted me to be your good little whore on the side," you continued, disgusted with him and yourself, thinking about the times you let him touch you. The times you gave yourself to him. You should have known from the beginning. Maybe a part of you always did. The only way you'd get your happily ever after was if Lee chose to give it to you.

Lee Bodecker was a selfish, greedy man. He wanted it all, he didn't want to choose. But he had. Whether he acknowledged it or not, he made his choice. As much as it hurt, you had to accept that it wasn't you.

"You know that ain't fuckin' true," he snarled, holding your chin tightly in his hand as you looked up at him. His voice softened as he looked back at you. "I meant all I said to you, darlin'. I love you," he said as he pressed his forehead to yours. "If you'da just been patient," he breathed hotly, "we'd be together right now. I'da got rid of her, just like I told you I would."

The pain slipping into his voice was like daggers in your heart. You wanted so badly to believe him, but you were always told how gullible you were. Especially with Lee, you'd buy into anything he said if he said it prettily enough.

You had known you had to leave town, get away, or else you'd just run right back to him, or he'd find you and convince you to stay. You told everyone you were leaving, making sure word got around, and it did. He was too preoccupied in his campaign to bother doing anything about it, or maybe he just didn't believe you'd actually go. You weren't sure which it was.

You had enlisted the help of Arvin to assist you in packing, he had always been a good friend to you and wanted to do whatever he could. The last day you were packing away, though, you got another bout of morning sickness in front of him.

It was like Arvin knew before you did that you were pregnant. But he never left. He was there for you. Held you when you cried, assured you everything would be okay as you spilled your heart out to him, telling him everything. Instead of moving out of town like you had planned, you moved in with Arvin.

Time seemed to pass you by so quickly from then on. One day Arvin was holding your hair back for you as you emptied your stomach into his toilet, and the next he was holding your hand as you pushed through tears of pain and heartbreak while you delivered your baby in the next town over.

When the nurse had taken Teddy, you were an inconsolable mess of guilt and heartache. Arvin was right there with you, had been from the very start, but he wasn't Lee.

You were crying because Lee should have been there, should have been the one holding your hand and wiping your tears, you should have told him that you were having his baby. The guilt was crushing. Not only for having kept your pregnancy from him, but because the man who stayed beside you the entire time deserved so much better than a broken girl who was still in love with the man who broke her heart. It wasn't fair to any of you.

And then the nurse came back over, holding a blue swaddled bundle in her arms. You timidly took your baby as she handed him over to you and the second you laid your eyes on him, all thoughts just went away. The only thing you could focus on was this precious little life you held in your arms. And though your tears kept flowing, they were of overwhelming joy as you looked down at your sweet Teddy.

Teddy.

You heard him cry and your eyes went wide as Lee kept his hold on you.

Another cry as you swallowed thickly, sure your face was full of desperation as you surveyed Lee.

His brows furrowed as he looked in the direction of the living room, dropping his hand as he moved closer to the noise.

You scurried past him, stopping him from starting up at the stairs.

"Lee," was all you could manage to say.

He looked at you incredulously. "That a baby cryin' up there?" he asked rigidly.

You couldn't breathe. You didn't know what to do. Your guilt was written clear as day on your face as you pouted at him, watering puppy dog eyes pleading with him, for what you weren't sure.

"I'll say this once, then I'm not gonna be nice about it, darlin'. Either answer me or get outta my way."

Still no words could form on your tongue. When he stepped to get up the stairs, you let him pass you before turning around and quickly following him.

Lee followed the sound of the newborn cries up to the nursery. When he got to the door, you watched as he took a steadying breath before he pushed in, like he was readying himself for the sight he knew he'd be met with.

He walked slowly to the crib where Theodore was laying, crying for attention.

Lee's mouth was agape as he looked down at the baby.

Two pairs of brilliantly blue eyes staring back at one another.

You knew Lee knew instantly, there was no denying it. Teddy was his mini me. He looked exactly like his father.

You watched as Lee carefully reached down and took Teddy in his big arms, holding him safely and smiling down at him as Teddy calmed in his hold.

Your nose was tingling and it took everything in you not to burst into tears at the sight.

"What's his name?" Lee asked in a hushed tone.

"Theodore," you answered just as softly.

Theo's baby garbling had Lee laughing as he cooed down at his son. You swore you could see the gleam in Lee's eyes as he watched him.

After a sniff and a clearing of his throat, Lee's gaze shot back to you. Accusatory and angry, his hurt underlining all of it.

"You had my baby, and were just gonna keep 'im from me?"

"No, no I- I was gonna. Gonna tell you. I wanted to, I just didn't know.." you trailed off, wringing your hands.

"Didn't know what?"

"How," you answered. "Didn't know how to. Didn't know how you'd react. Wasn't entirely sure you'd want to know."

"You think I wouldn't want to know that I have a kid?" he asked harshly. You took a step to him, holding your hand out instinctively to remind him that he had the baby in his arms.

"You're married, Lee. You're holding public office. I know you well enough to know that you don't want anything to mess with that. I don't think having a child with someone other than your wife would be looked on too favorably."

"I told you I'd get rid of her," he said again, lowly. "I will."

"Lee, please," you said, exasperated. "I'm sorry. I am. I should have told you, you had a right to know, but I can't do this with you. That's why I left. I do love you," you said brokenly, "I've never stopped. But I can't live my life just waiting for you to call when you want me. And I won't let you do that to Theo, either. He deserves a father who's around, who puts him as a priority,"

"Oh, and you think he'll have that with Arvin?" he challenged. "I wouldn't be too sure, sweetheart. Those charges really have a way of addin' up. Who knows how long of a sentence he'll be gettin' tomorrow."

You couldn't help but stress at his words. You knew some of what Lee had done before, and you know what he'd be willing to do now, to get his way. If he wanted Arvin put away, there wouldn't be anything you could do to stop it from happening.

You may not have been in love with Arvin, but you did love him. He was your best friend; you don't know what you'd be doing or even where you'd be right now if it weren't for his help and care. He didn't deserve to be punished for your mistakes; you couldn't let that happen.

"Why would you do that?" you asked, hurt lacing your voice. "What do you want from me, Lee?"

"You ain't dumb, honey. You know what I want," he said easily as he rocked Theo lightly while he gripped onto his daddy's finger, his big blue eyes falling closed as he drifted back to his peaceful sleep. Lee's blazing blue orbs met yours once more. "I want you. I want this, all a this with you, and him,” he said, sparing another glance to his baby boy.

“Please, Lee. Please,” you whispered, voice breaking on the desperate plea. "You can’t - He needs something stable. Real."

Lee assessed you for a moment before shaking his head with a slight scoff and a smirk. "This is real, darlin'. I'll give you both what you deserve. I just need a little time, that's all," he said as he set Theo back down in the basinet before turning back to you. "Can't make you my wife while I'm still married, but I'll get that taken care of quick. Then you and the baby can get settled in at home, we can finally be together. Just like we always talked about," he continued, taking your hands in his and pulling you in. "Havin' a family," he brought his hand up to tilt your face up to his, brushing his lips against yours. And you let him.

"And it'll be good for reelection next year, too. People like a family man."

You cringed and pulled away at that. At least you tried to, Lee's hold not let you get far at all.

"Don't be like that, darlin'. Come on, you know it'll be good for all of us. We can be happy," he said as his knuckles brushed your cheek.

The touch reminded you, "What about Arvin?"

"What about 'im?" he asked uninterested.

"You'll let him go," you state, grabbing his hand.

"I will," he agrees, "soon as you two are all moved in with me, I'll make sure he's released. Can't have you trying to run off on me again. I won't let you go so easy this time."

You swallowed back the cry that wanted to be let free as you looked at him. You hated that Arvin would have to suffer while you wait on Lee to keep his word. But what else can you do.

"How long?" you ask brokenly, eyes drifting over to the crib. "I can't do this alone."

"Won't be long, sweetheart. She's already been on her way out. A week, two tops. And you won't be alone. If you think for a minute I'd ever not be around for my child, you're outta your mind. If I’d a known sooner, I,” he cut himself off with a shake of his head. “I'll come over every night, check on ya both. You need somethin', you tell me. I'll show you I can take care'a you two better than that boy ever could."

Sweet words. Always so sweet coming from his lips. Your heart aches, for a million different reasons, as you let Lee come closer, pressing his lips to yours before his arms find their way around your frame.

And just like that, after nearly a year of not giving in to the temptation to see him, he has you once more, so easily. He gets what he wants. Just like he always does. Like he always will. You wonder briefly if it will ever be enough. You're not sure you want to know the answer.

"You've got no idea how much I've missed you, darlin'," he whispers against your lips. "Thought about you every damn day."

You feel the tears as they slip down your cheeks, a wave of relief falling over you under his touch, but the guilt still remains... It's just not enough to make you stop him. Not enough to want him to stop.

And the hope for your promised happily ever after renews in your heart. Because maybe you’ll finally get it, just how you pictured, with Lee by your side, starting your own little family.. It’s all you’ve ever wanted.

Lee Bodecker may be a selfish and greedy man.

But maybe you're no better.

#the seven writing event #nickfowlerrr’s writing event #lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker x plus size!reader #lee bodecker x curvy!reader #lee bodecker angst #dark!lee bodecker #soft!dark lee bodecker #soft dark lee bodecker #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker x female reader #lee bodecker fic #sebastian stan characters

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infinite-orangepeel · 1 year

Text

CW: perv!virgin!eddie/camboy!steve, virginity kink, degradation/humiliation, eddie’s lowkey a creep (again), dirty talk, steve’s dick is tiny lol, religious imagery in a sexual context (brief)

thinking about virgin!loser!simp! eddie who gets zero action and has never been touched by anyone else’s hands but his own.

thinking about him rushing home from work each night to make it on time for steve’s camboy livestream.

he speeds, runs a red light or two. doesn’t pause to consider the consequences bc who the fuck cares? his cock strains against the zipper of his jeans bc he only has one thing on his mind and it’s certainly not avoiding run ins with the law.

“can’t wait to fuck you, pretty boy,” he whimpers as he turns left.

he doesn’t know the object of his affection’s real name, of course. only his username which is @prettyboy86. these days, eddie only ever cums with that name on his lips.

fuck, he’s sick in the head.

eddie’s getting more pathetic and whiny by the minute. he makes tiny little thrusts against the inner seam of his jeans to try to find some form of friction. though he has no intention of getting off before he watches steve’s show.

the zipper makes it painful and pinches the head of his weepy dick but it’s better than nothing. somehow he keeps his hands on the wheel and doesn’t get in a multi-car pile-up. somehow.

he’s so desperately in love with this boy he’s never even met, this boy who has no idea that eddie munson exists.

and to an extent, that’s part of the allure. pretty boy’s powerful. he commands an audience of thousands. people from all over the world pay $25/month just to eye a piece of him.

he never shows his face, but sometimes he’ll suck on a dildo and his lips will be visible in the shot. they’re usually slicked with sparkly lipgloss and look like they’d taste like candy.

eddie knows he must be beautiful though if the rest of his body is any indication. he’s an angel, he’s a saint. eddie worships him, prays to him with a level of devotion he’s never been able to find in organized religion.

once in the driveway of his uncle’s place, eddie throws his van in park, grabs the keys, and makes a mad dash for his bedroom. locks the door behind him as is tradition, cracks open a PBR, and logs onto his laptop.

pretty boy’s site is bookmarked, favorited, and left open in a tab from last night.

eddie navigates to the livestream waiting room and moments later, steve settles onto his haunches onscreen.

a flood of messages from similar admirers clogs up the chat quickly as eddie starts in on his own barrage of thirsty compliments:

@ethebanished: looking so cute tonight, pretty boy. i’d do anything to have your cock in my mouth.

there’s no response. steve’s not even looking at the camera or the screen. he’s adjusting something on his lower half that eddie can’t see.

maybe a cock ring or vibrating toy??

eddie’s bought him so many toys from his personalized wishlist and the one time steve took the clear glittery dildo on camera, he came in his pants instantly. didn’t even have time to stroke his cock once.

it felt intimate. it felt like steve was sending him a message, confessing his mutual love.

eddie sends a few more messages while steve holds up a finger to the audience to let them know he needs a second.

he types rapidly, without though, follows his depraved intentions and lets them run wild into the ether.

@ethebanished: i’ve been watching you since the beginning. i can’t cum to anyone else’s videos. did you know that?? you’re so special, pretty boy. no one else takes cock like you. i’d treat you so well. i’d never let you go, i swear. don’t waste time on the other boys.

@ethebanished: when i save up enough money, i’m gonna buy a custom video from you. i’m gonna make you say my name while you fuck yourself on the dildo i bought you. it’s the clear one with glitter. how does that sound?? would you like that baby?? like some dirty stranger making you cum for him?? i’m saving my virginity for you. waiting for you every day. one day we’ll fuck and you’ll thank me.

@ethebanished: i had to jack off in the storage room at work this morning. almost got caught by my manager but it was worth it. woke up so horny from a wet dream about you. you’re perfect. i have to fuck you. have to.

steve smiles. professionally whitened teeth blinding the camera. eddie convinces himself easily that it’s meant for him despite the thousands of other commenters.

he and steve have something special. sure, they’ve never directly interacted, but if they do—when they do—steve won’t be able to resist eddie’s charms.

“sorry for the delay, everyone. we had a few technical difficulties but thanks to my friend, tommy, we should be all set.”

tommy is the bane of eddie’s existence. public enemy #1. steve’s always running his mouth about “owing credit to tommy” and how “the show wouldn’t be half of what it is without tommy’s support.”

apparently, he’s steve’s camera man, editor, and resident tech guy. but eddie’s worst nightmare is steve ever including tommy in a video or stream.

eddie fantasizes—often—about replacing tommy, himself. he’s got a bunch of editing experience, owns all the fancy software, and knows how to operate a camera. plus, he’d do it for free. he’d do it just to be in the same atmosphere as steve for a fraction of a second.

fuck, his dick is leaking all over his black denim. just another pair of jeans to toss out bc pretty boy’s caused him to stain them.

if pretty boy were here, in person, eddie would have lick them clean to prove his devotion.

his attention snaps back to the screen as steve starts talking again.

“i’ve been wanting to challenge myself, lately to get a bit more up close and personal with my fans,” steve sticks his tongue out slowly and flicks it in the direction of the camera, “y’know to show my appreciation. so if it’s okay with you, i’m going to try something new today.”

eddie’s curiosity sparks. warmth spreads through his thighs, abdomen, and chest.

steve’s speaking directly to him (in his mind) and with all those pretty moles on display, eddie’s free hand wanders to tease his own pierced nipples.

he tugs at them and swirls the buds with gentle fingers. his hips buck in response. he’s always been sensitive. knows he’d cum so easily, so constantly, if pretty boy touched him.

“so one of you sweet angels sent me this adorable teddy bear,” steve nibbles on the ears of the pink plushie and eddie’s instantly jealous of whoever sent it to him, “i love how soft and cute he is, don’t you? his fur just feels perfect on my skin.”

steve lightly grazes the fluff of the bear over his inner thighs as he backs up on the mattress to display his full body for the camera. glossed lips in view. eddie gasps sharply and bites down on his knuckles to muffle the sound. he doesn’t need his uncle to know what a fucking freak he is.

“ohhh. see, that’s nice,” steve’s naked except for—and this absolutely annihilates eddie on the spot—a delicate pink ribbon that he’s tied around the base of his wet cock and a pair of thigh-high white socks.

flesh spills over the tight band of the fabric and eddie yearns to feel the squeeze of those perfect muscles around his head.

“here’s how this is going to work—i’m going to fuck my plushie like a pillow while reading comments aloud from you guys. whoever’s comment makes me cum will get a free five-minute video call with me tomorrow night before the regular livestream begins. there’s only going to be one lucky winner so do your worst, angels,” steve giggle to himself and tightens the bow on his dick, “let the games begin.”

“fuck,” eddie murmurs as he realizes how high the stakes are, “fuck. i have to win.”

the chat ramps up with lust and thrill as the audience observes steve taking the medium-sized plushie to the center of his bed. he fondles his balls, waves at the camera, and straddles the pink bear. his cock twitches in the confines of his ribbon and eddie wonders if it’s real silk. what it might feel like.

“bet you can’t wait to see my little cunt squirt on live, can you? poor teddy isn’t going to knows what’s hit him,” steve strokes the cheek of the bear apologetically and begins slowly rutting, “let’s see if he can handle me.”

it’s important to mention that pretty boy’s cock is small and that this appeals to eddie like nothing else.

eddie’s not huge, himself, but in terms of girth and length—he’s slightly above average. on the other hand, pretty boy’s dick is about three and a half inches hard. his balls are tucked right up against his body and he’s always well groomed. he’s muscular. clearly works out. has toned abs, large biceps (much larger than eddie’s), toned thighs and calves, and his ass is round like a summer peach.

eddie thinks it would taste even better on his tongue.

steve’s a seasoned professional which means he knows damn well how to put on a show. he arches his back expertly, tugs at the long brown tendrils of hair that dip towards his collarbones, and moans wantonly.

“okay—@yourgayestfantasy765 says, ‘pretty boy, you’re so fucking hot,’” steve smirks, fucks his teddy slow and precise, takes his time, “that’s so sweet. thank you!”

his words are kind, but his tone is bored and bone dry. the fact is he reads hundreds of comments like this all the time. it’s nothing new, doesn’t catch him off guard. his hips roll into the plushie’s tummy without stuttering.

it’s hard to concentrate, but eddie’s determined to stand out. racks his brain for something interesting to comment. something that will catch pretty boy’s attention.

he has to be the one to make steve cum. he has to win that five-minute video call. it would change his life to have that chance conversation with the love of his life. the only person he’s ever really wanted.

maybe he’d finally get out of bumfuck, indiana. maybe he’d finally lose his virginity and film videos with pretty boy all the time once he got some tangible experience under his—currently—un-notched belt.

eddie spies the signature tramp stamp—a row of three butterflies—between the dimples above the swell of his ass. he’s spent many long showers with his cock in his hands as he imagines sinking his teeth into that exact spot.

steve rambles off a few more copycat, lack luster comments as eddie types. he theatrically yawns midway through one to show his disinterest. the bear looks equally unimpressed below him.

“aw. you think i have a pretty cock? thank you so much, @daddydicklvr!” he blows a kiss, “but i think you can do better than that.”

eddie’s nervous. he wants this so badly. his palms are clammy. there’s chip crumbs littering the keys of his computer and it occurs to him that he should probably clean up the place when pretty boy inevitably comes over for a date.

he presses send.

“hmm—oh i recognize this username! you’ve been a longtime subscriber, haven’t you ethebanished? let’s read your comment,” pretty boy smiles genuinely and slows his movements to read, licking over his lips carefully, “‘this is going to sound crazy but sometimes i think i’m actually falling in love with you even though i’ve never met you. you’re amazing.’”

the rest of the audience immediatley thumbs down eddie’s message. the replies are even worse:

@kissmyaxx7: fuck off the stream, perv!

@nottaken_: guy thinks he really has a chance lmfao. pretty boy doesn’t date fans. you must be new here.

@titsandtats: smells desperate af in here…

@yoyostar6000: are u even trying to make him cum?

he cringes inwardly, worries he’s royally fucked up his chances, and hovers over the ‘x’ on the tab to click off.

but as he moves the mouse, pretty boy moans high in his throat and eddie finds him shivering with pleasure. his own cock jumps at the sight and suddenly he’s back in action, stroking himself from root to tip as he waits.

“in love with me, huh? i can work with that. tell me more, @ethebanished, i’m listening.”

steve’s a fucking temptress, sucks on his fingers as his thighs start to shake from effort. he’s sloppy with it—shows off his missing gag reflex and doesn’t clean up the spit the dribbles down his chest.

eddie can’t look away. doesn’t want to. his body is on fire with want and he types furiously one-handed:

@ethebanished: idk…it’s everything about u. ur smile, ur voice, ur cute little cock, ur attitude. i just feel like we’d get along great.

other audience members try to compete for steve’s attention, but he ignores them. lets their comments disappear into the chat as he reads eddie’s aloud.

“oh i’m sure you say that to all the girls and boys, cutie. there’s probably a line at your door right now,” steve’s dick is milky at the tip and he’s pressing it between his tummy and the bear. ends of the ribbon peeking out.

eddie sucks in a breath. pulls hard on each nipple for….confidence?? he can’t believe he’s about to admit this to the hottest guy he’s ever seen.

send.

@ethebanished: not quite. i’m a virgin. never had sex before let alone a boyfriend :/

pretty boy’s face—or, what eddie can see of it—lights up at that. his grin widens, reaching around to toy with his rim while he thrusts faster.

“holy shit. i gotta admit that’s hot—ah.”

eddie responds quickly:

@ethebanished: thx. no one else seems to think so. i’m kinda a loser but i promise i’d be so good to you. i’d do whatever you asked of me. idc. only have eyes for you.

steve’s little cock rabbits forwards. he pins the teddy with one hand and edges one finger into his ass with the other.

“fuck. i wish this was your cock, @ethebanished. my fingers just won’t do. i bet you’d be all messy your first time. probably cum inside me before you’d even gotten two inches in,” he whines—going deeper into the fantasy, “i’m mean, though, baby. i’d trap you inside me. i’d ride you until you begged me to stop, honey and then i’d suck you dry. how’s that sound, perv? you wanna stretch my cute cunt on your cock? i’ll teach you how to be a good boy with my pussy.”

pretty boy sticks a second finger in his ass and his balls smush against the fuzzy leg of the teddy as he grinds. his hips move in tight clockwise circles. humping the plushie with primal desire.

what eddie would do to have him rut on his face in the exact same way—

eddie’s getting close. he’s thumbing his cockhead roughly and biting down hard on the hem of his shirt. it’s almost painful to be this turned on. if he doesn’t cum soon he might just pass out or implode.

he sends one final message before he spills onto his hand and keyboard:

@ethebanished: so you gonna make me your bitch or what??

“@ethebanished says—oh fuck my pussy’s so wet, i’m not gonna last—he says—ah—oh my god,” steve shakes, groans like he’s been mortally wounded, and shoots cum all over the body of the pink plushie, “fuck yes—yes—be my bitch. gonna fucking ruin you, sweetie.”

steve humps himself through the rest of his orgasm and slowly withdraws his fingers. the little silk ribbon is somehow still attached at the base of his cock but it’s drenched. he unties it and licks his own release from the soft pink fabric.

eddie’s brain is fried. he’s still horny. he’ll likely jack of at least twice more before bed to prerecorded videos of pretty boy but he’s content.

he won.

he has a chance.

pretty boy smiles into the camera, kisses the lens with pink gloss as is his trademarked move, and squeezes the soggy teddy to his chest.

“alright that’s all i’ve got in me for tonight. but congrats to my horny little virgin @ethebanished. teddy and i look forward to meeting you on our call tomorrow! i’ll dm you the link. everyone else, good luck next time and have a slutty saturday! mwah.”

the livestream ends, eddie can hardly breathe, and his uncle knocks on the door.

“eddie, dinner’s ready! i made lasagna!”

instinctively he covers up his body.

“be out in a second! i’m—i’m working on a song!” he yells back and then pulls up a pre-downloaded video of pretty boy to prepare for his big day tomorrow.

THE END.

taglist (message me to be added or removed at any time <3): @estrellami-1, @disastardly, @ilovecupcakesandtea, @the-redthread, @asbealthgn, @bestofbucky, @shrimply-a-menace, @vampireinthesun, @carlyv, @lordrrascal , @jjoesjonas , @malachitedevil , @anxiouseds, @feraleddiekinninghours, @gay-little-bitch, @jhrc666, @pinkdaisies98, @mcneen, @perseus-notjackson, @eiddets, @corroded-coffin-groupie, @three-possums-playing-human, @stevesbipanic, @plutoshelm, @arkenstoned, @indiearr, @they-reap-what-we-sow, @gleek4twd

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skzooweemama · 8 months

Text

Tickle Fights with SKZ!!

(Hyung Line)

~~~

hello beautiful people! i have made my return to writing on tumblr! ik a lot of you won’t know that bc i am not tagging or mentioning my main acc, but it is merely the truth! anyway, i’ve been into t-word stuff for a whileeee and i wanted to try my hand at it!

have my headcanons!

(ps. pretty sure these can be either platonic or romantic so just use that imagination)

~~~

Tickle Fights:

Chan:

- so gentle, but might instigate the fights

- you’ve seen how he is with the boys… like c’mon now

- really likes when you get goofy with him, which is usually what leads to these fights

- you’ll both be giggling about something, him (and you?) doing the excited hand flaps when he can’t help but poke at your tummy

- if you’re ticklish, he’s not stopping, coming in with more gentle pokes and prods to keep you laughing

- if you’re not, he sits there for a good second processing, wondering why you didn’t laugh

- perfect time for a counterattack fr

- he’s plenty ticklish himself, so even if he’s getting you good (unless he has you completely pinned, which doesn’t happen a lot), you can still get him back

- his sidesss literally they're so so bad

- please tickle him there and don’t stop until he’s begging

- you pretend to count his muscles sometimes and it drives him actually insane

- too much of a gentle giant to actually do anything abt it though (other than trying to get you back)

- lots of dramatic “ahh!”s and his squeaky laugh

- STAMPY FEET OMG

- honestly, satisfied with the fight as long as you’re laughing (whether it’s from being ticklish or giggling at his cute reactions)

Lee Know:

- annoying.

- ANNOYING.

- he actually doesn’t start these fights a lot, knowing he’s just as ticklish as (or even more ticklish than) you are

- however, whenever they DO start, the foul play… it’s rampant

- he likes to cook for y’all, and you like to bug him while he does so

- a lot of the time this looks like back hugs that allow you to pepper kisses along his shoulders while he’s chopping vegetables, which is slightly annoying but nothing to seek revenge over

- however- if you ever get the inkling to sneak your arms around his waist and quickly dig your fingers into his ribs (which tends to happen sometimes)

- watch out.

- one day, this is exactly what happens. he’s cooking, you come up behind him and tickle his ribs and he lets out a squawk of laughter

- by the time he turns around, you’re already hightailing it out of the kitchen

- he lets you get away, deciding to go after you later

- will use any sort of method to trap your limbs in order to tickle you without fearing retaliation (and if you’re not ticklish… well i’d recommend getting him good)

- blanket burritos, pinning you under his body weight, pulling your shirt over your head suddenly

- you name it, he’s done it

- tickle fights between the two of you may last for days, with each of you trying to find away to one up the other’s previous revenge attacks

- usually, these culminate in the biggest wrecking session and the shame of the loss is enough to end the fight

- i wish i could say this was a 50/50 split, but honestly… you lose most of the time

- god gives his hardest battles to his strongest soldiers 🫡

Changbin:

- definitely more soft than lee know, but can still be incredibly annoying

- just in general, not even with his tickle fight tactics

- he usually inadvertently causes the fight to start, however

- he’s loud, just like all the time, 24/7

- sometimes you just want him to shut up, just for a little while

- and though making him laugh isn’t technically making him be quiet, it’s a welcome alternative to whatever other sounds he’s making

- as soon as he opens his mouth to parrot one of his little bits for the 30 millionth time, you strike

- this is how most of your tickle fights start

- he tends to have short, choked laughs at first

- if he can get away, you won’t hear his true laugh

- however, if you can get him defenseless, he’ll start his cute cackle immediately

- his chest is the best place to attack if you want this to happen, just make sure he can’t swat at you

- he will get you back as well, just a warning

- those muscles aren’t just for show, you know

- he isn’t ever mean or sadistic, he just likes to hear you laugh and if his jokes aren’t doing that, his hands will have to do

- he’s so soft

- I LOVE HIM

Hyunjin:

- drama king. king of drama.

- the MOST dramatic.

- you could have accidentally brushed his side while passing him in the hallway while the two of you were doing your own things and he’ll let out a loud “AH!” and clutch his side like he’s been shot

- really, he does too much.

- yes, he is that ticklish. yes, you want to exploit it.

- sometimes you’ll come with him while he practices choreography, and if he’s getting too frustrated with himself, you have the perfect solution

- when he’s groaning and pulling his beanie over his eyes after a mistake, you sneak up behind him and quickly massage his hips

- he shrieks, trying to step forward to escape you, but you take the opportunity to grab him around the waist and wrestle him to the ground

- you can get in some good tickling on the way down, especially when his beanie is still over his eyes

- his laugh is very screech-y, less a laugh and more a scream

- however, once he’s got his sight back, he’s gonna try to turn the tables

- hyunjin definitely is the type to get weak when tickled, but his long limbs can be good weapons

- be careful to avoid blunt force trauma from them swinging around

- once the attack is over, he doesn’t actively try to get you back (but if you put yourself in a compromising position… rip you)

- he does hold a grudge though so he prepared for some more dramaaa

- will probably demand food and affection as payment for your deeds

#stray kids x reader #skz tickle #stray kids fluff #stray kids tickle #skz x reader #bang chan x reader #lee know x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #fluff #kpop tickle #kpop fluff #stray kids fanfic #skzooweemama.writes

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crystillyzed · 8 months

Text

at the rainbow's end // mysta rias

pairing: mysta rias x gn!reader

word count: 4.1k

genre: fluff, staff!reader, mutual pining, wingman elira

content warning(s): swearing, unedited

summary:

After nearly a year of hearing each other's voice, you finally meet him.

a/n: this was originally going to be released as my 100 follower celebration since i hit that a while back and to make up for the lack of event since i don’t have the time to host one. but with mysta’s graduation this past weekend, i didn’t want to keep this in my drafts since i’ve been working on this for like practically a year now.

this fox-dog man means so much to me, even though i can’t really catch his streams due to timezone differences, but he means So Much to me. i got back into writing because of luxiem, but he and shu were the ones who got me back into the swing of writing which is amazing bc i love writing. i just lost all the motivation to do so until i found them last year. even though he’s no longer in niji anymore or mysta anymore, i will keep writing for him. in fact, i actually have like 3 or so mysta works in the drafts lol

and speaking of writing, this is the first long fic i’ve written in 3-4 years. i’m considering crossposting this onto my ao3 as an alternative access to read longer fics bc ik how tumblr is poopy with loading long text posts. i’m a bit rusty when it comes to writing long fics, but i hope you’ll be able to enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing this 🧡

links: luxiem m.l || main m.l || ao3 ver (if tumblr dies)

You twist your head from your phone back towards your monitor, displaying the Discord window showing your current private call with your blue dragon friend.

“Mysta’s WHAT?”

“Yeah, he’s coming along on the trip,” Elira laughed. “You didn’t know?”

“Apparent-ly! What the hell!! Luca, that motherfucker, I’m gonna beat his ass when I see him!”

She howls with laughter as you ramble on and on about how Luca told you everything about their planned trip but didn’t tell you about Mysta’s planned involvement. Once you’re done, she takes many deep breaths to calm down. “You should come with us! It’s gonna be fun. And, you’ll get to see him again.~”

You can’t really see each other’s faces, considering you’re both in a voice call. But god damn, you can hear the eyebrow wiggle in her teasing tone.

“I can’t,” you groaned, “I have finals when you’re there. As much as I wanna skip it, I really need to pass.”

“Damn, you can’t even get a referral from staff to get you here for a business meeting? Unlucky.”

“Can’t even do that anyway. I already told my professor that my trip’s been canceled, so now I have to take it.”

Though you’re not a liver for the company, you are, however, a staff member for the company. Specifically one of the staff in charge of promotions. Of course, you mainly focus on promoting EN and sometimes the other two now-merged branches. In fact, that’s how you got close to some of the livers.

As one of the staff promoters, you have to speak with the associated livers about PR stream offers and their convention appearance invites. Since you’ve been interacting with the livers the most, you’ve become friends with a few of them. Some namely Elira and Mysta.

Honestly, it’s not that you play favorites with the livers. You try your best to keep your relationships professional with them. But your bond with a specific fox-like man says otherwise.

You see, Mysta has been a joy to be around with. Although you haven’t met him in person yet, you have played some multiplayer games with him. Sometimes you check out the EN Minecraft server to see if the installed mods are working properly. Weirdly enough, almost every time you visit the server, Mysta is online. In fact, that’s how your not-so-business relationship started.

When you first entered the server, after double checking if no one was streaming at the scheduled hour, he was the first person you met. You thought you would run into Selen, Pomu, or perhaps Uki during your visit, but you were pleasantly surprised at his sudden appearance. Luckily, he was kind enough to show you around the server while teaching you some mods. With, of course, the trademark Mysta Rias experience packaged with sexual innuendos and teasing about. Well, except he didn’t go completely sexual considering it was your first time meeting him. He has some decency.

After that, you’ve run into him almost every time you visit the Minecraft server. Every visit eventually turned into hangouts, just you two (and sometimes another liver) chatting and building projects in-game. Soon enough, you and Mysta started to play other games together. You both played games such as Overwatch, Clubhouse, and sometimes League if you felt like torturing yourself for some reason.

Obviously, you had to keep the professionalism on both sides somehow. Your fellow staff members, especially some livers, noticed your close bond with the detective. So they usually send you to his DMs to discuss about any promotion offers involving him. Whenever you have your cameras on for a meeting, he somehow always flusters you with sudden flirtatious marks or something of the sort mid-conversation.

“Hello? Helloooooooo? Is someone there??”

Elira’s voice yoinks you out of your thoughts. Oh god, were you spacing out this entire time? How embarassing.

You clear your throat then respond as if you weren’t thinking of someone just now, “S-sorry, did you say something?”

“Oh my god. It’s that bad,” she mindlessly mutters.

Blink blink. “Huh?”

“Nothing,” she quickly retaliates. With a slight hum, she speaks again, “Since you’re gonna be stuck in hell… Want me to get you something? Like a souvenir or a limited edition thing? I literally have your address, man.”

Oh right, she does. Sometimes you and Elira send gifts to each other like figurines or plushies at random times.

“Nah, I’m good. Thanks for the offer, man.”

“Are you sure? I mean, I’ll still probably send some pics buuut… Y’know… Just saying…”

There she goes again, doing that thing where she wiggles her eyebrows even though you can’t see her fucking face right now. Goddamn it, why did you tell her about your… thing with Mysta? You should’ve known that she’s NOT going to let it go.

You groan, “Just. Just surprise me.”

“That’s so vague! Do you know what that means?”

“Yeah? So? Surprise me.”

“Man… You have no idea how much power you just gave me.” She cackles for the next few seconds, making you start regretting your decision. “Okay, I’ll surprise you. Just don’t forget you asked me to, alright? And no complaining!”

“Okay, alright, fine! I won’t complain! Jeez… Now get to bed, nerd, you have a flight tomorrow.”

“Sheesh, what are you, my mom?” You both chuckle at her remark. “Okieee~ I’ll go pass out now, I guess. Good night!”

“Good night, Ewiwa. Have a safe trip.”

And you both leave call. Well, maybe you should get to sleep too. It’s getting super late, after all.

—

Mysta stares at Elira across the table in disbelief. “Finals? Of all times? Bruh…”

“Haha, yeah! Super uncool and lame and not something I have to worry about soon,” his penguin colleague beside him laughs with a dreadfully crazed look in her eyes. She anxiously reaches out for her soda and starts drinking rapidly.

“Wh— it’s not like I can control it or anything. Shit happens!”

“I know, it’s just…” he drawls off as his gaze lowers to the table. Admittedly, it’s difficult for him to hide his expression. So naturally, the two girls noticed his disappointment. Elira and Petra awkwardly look at each other, then to him, then back at each other.

“Hey, it’s okay, Mysta,” Petra says as she pats his back. “You can always see them next time! Like Nijifest!”

The dragon nods, “Yeah! Or you could see them the next time you take a break. Like going on another vacation or something.”

“If I have enough money for it,” he sighed. But he gives them a small smile to appreciate their attempts to soothe him.

Petra frowns. “If? Mysta, you’re literally one of the top livers in EN, like? Hello? Mr. One Million?”

“But I still don’t know when that’s gonna happen. Might as well be in a year or maybe like half a year or something.”

Elira’s eyes narrow. She quietly listens to their conversation, or bickering at this point, while taking some occasional sips of her drink.

For the past practically a year, Elira’s been one of the victims to both of your hopeless gushing.

She already knew about your friendship since you’ve talked a lot about it before. She knows the stupid hijinks and drunken confessions that you and Mysta told her about off stream. Her eyes closes as a confused thought crosses her mind, Seriously, how are you two not dating already?

Of course, she’s quite aware that the rest of Luxiem are both of your victims. Hell, when Elira’s alone with the other boys, it’s usually them talking about how astonishing that you and Mysta aren’t together. Sometimes, they make bets on who’s going to confess first. It’s obvious!

Even with the two going back and forth, practically becoming one with the background, she closes her eyes and hums in thought. Finals should be finished next week, she mused. Her visible eye opens as she takes a glance at the ashy haired male. But he’s been so busy lately that they haven’t spoken with each other…

The entire EN branch had a full schedule for the past few months. In fact, their schedule was so full that sometimes the livers couldn’t make their own streaming schedules nor stream in general. Mysta, of course, was no exception. As one of the most popular livers in EN, he’s one of the most busiest people she’s ever known. On top of that, you too have been busy recently too. You haven’t been able to hang out with him as of late despite being a staff member yourself. Life really likes to fuck anyone over, doesn’t it?

She could tell that you two haven’t been able to find the time to talk with each other. The staff picked up many projects that practically almost everyone is unavailable, and you were one of said unavailable members. The only times the livers could contact you was through Slack or by email for business inquiries. But things should be slightly slowing down, for now that is.

Although, it would be nice to have you two meet each other once at the same time, even if it’s a coincidental encounter.

Wait a minute…

A devious smirk lifts her lips, her eyes glinting with mischief in mind. She chuckles to herself as she entertains the thought. Hell, it even looks kinda creepy to the other patrons. ESPECIALLY to her coworkers who’s now staring at her with confusion and a hint of fear.

“…Elira? Are you okay?” Petra asked the dragon.

“Hm?” She blinks out of her thoughts as the penguin’s voice pulls her back into reality. Elira stares at her and Mysta, who also looks a bit dumbfounded, before grinning at them. “Oh, don’t worry about it. Just thought of something.”

Blink blink. “Like what?” Mysta asked this time.

Again, she lets out a chuckle and flicks her wrist to wave off the concern. “Like I said! Don’t worry about it! Y’all will see it eventually.”

Soon enough, the waitress arrives with their orders. Elira turns to face her and helps her with the food. On the other side of the table, the two livers tilt their heads in confusion and eventually give each other an unknowing look as the table is served.

—

You lie in bed snuggled underneath your covers, but the lights are still on as you scroll through Twitter on your phone.

It’s been about a couple weeks since your call with Elira. She’s been sending you updates, videos, and pictures of the group’s adventures in Japan. Sometimes, she’d call you before going to bed to tell you what happened during the trip in case it was a story she couldn’t explain over text. Of course, there were times when another liver like Reimu and Nina would join in the call and give you the tea. As much as you wished you wanted to be there while dying in exams, you felt warm as you saw the livers enjoying themselves on their vacation.

Then, you noticed how fast the month flew by. Eventually, it was time for the livers to fly home and say goodbye for a while. They all had different flights, obviously, but there was a specific person who didn’t leave the country yet.

You were looking on Twitter while watching the members’ story time streams on a pop-up viewer. Although, you didn’t see Mysta’s waiting room or tweet indicating his return to streaming yet.

Suddenly, you remembered why.

“He wants to stay back for a bit,” Elira answered over the sound of her packing. “Dunno why, but I don’t blame him. He was in Japan for work last time.”

That he was. Though disappointing it is that you can’t hang with him for a while longer, at least he’s having fun.

“Oh, remember the thing I asked you about?”

She asked you something? When?

“What thing?” You asked.

“Uh… The souvenir thing?”

Oh shit, you forgot about that. And apparently, she noticed your forgetfulness as indicated by her laughter.

“I got you something,” Elira continued, “but I’ll send it to you when I get back.”

“Why not now? You can just ask headquarters to send it to me.”

“It’s not something in a box though.”

You blinked in confusion, unanswering.

On the other end of the line, you heard her chuckle, “You’ll see.”

Your brief conversation did, in fact, make you scared. Although it’s Elira, your local dependable dragon, sometimes she can be as unpredictable as… well… the rest of Nijisanji. Not just EN, but Nijisanji in general. Remember that one time you watched her stream where she suddenly jumped into a hole in that Forest collab? Yeah…

Now, some time has passed since the trip and she’s been home for about almost a week. It’s something not in a box, right? So what’s taking her so long? Is it digital? Or did she fuck up somewhere with the delivery?

Currently, you’ve been juggling schoolwork, personal work, and work-work. Needless to say, it’s been a stressful time, especially around this type of year. Seriously, why is everyone so goddamn busy around this time? Idle thoughts aside, you’ve also been anxiously waiting for Elira’s souvenir. For the past week, you’d constantly check your phone and your PC for any email or DM from Slack and Discord with Elira’s name attached to it. Every time you get DM’ed or emailed, it’s always been another liver or staff member whose name doesn’t start with Elira and end with Pendora.

But hey, at least you got funny memes from Luca and Mysta in the mean time!

Honestly, at this point, you might as well just give up. Maybe she did run into issues, or she just forgot.

You let out a sigh as you refreshed your feed for the umpteenth time tonight, accompanied by the ghost’s voice eminating through your speakers. Yet suddenly, a notification banner from Discord slides down onto the screen.

Elira Pendora

SURPRISE!!!!

Oh.

Huh.

So she didn’t forget??

Confused yet astonished at the same time, you pull down your notifications bar and tap on the DM to see what she sent.

As the iconic Discord logo pops up on your screen, it eventually loads your conversation with Elira. When you look past your previous chat, a message larger than it should be fills about a third of your screen.

A plane ticket to London next week. Seat number and all. And most notably, it has your name.

…

“HUH?”

You frantically tap on the textbox and type.

You

GIRL

WHAGT THE FUCK IS THIS

Elira Pendora

your souvenir! ☺️

You

WDYM SOUVENIR THATS NOT EVEN RELATED TO JAPAN??? 😭😭😭😭

also

HOW DID YUO GET MY NUMBER??? AND MY EMAIL????? :monkas:

Elira Pendora

I had to pull a few strings with staff

just normal coworker things

You

:thonk:

“normal”

Elira Pendora

but like you should go!!!

I didn’t go through all that just for you to not see him

and you really needed a break so 😎

You

??????

but hes Still in japan?????

Elira Pendora

yeah but he’s flying back home next week

I asked him earlier and had to like try to figure out how to get you to meet him at the same time

or like

around the same time 😌

You

man idk if i should thank you or yell at you

Elira Pendora

LMAO EITHER WORKS IT’S OKAY MAN

better get ready!!!

You

wait what about the hotel

Elira Pendora

what hotel? ☺️

i’m sure he wouldn’t mind letting you stay for a few days tbh

and yes I will also pay for your return trip

You

BUT YOUR LEN FUNDS……

Elira Pendora

I KNOW 😭😭😭

but it’s worth it! go get your man bitch!!

but :thonk:

I think I’ll try to pass out now since I have something scheduled tomorrow soooo

GOOD NIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!

You

gn ewiwa :D

Well! Looks like you have a trip to prepare for.

—

The gray haired detective lounged comfortably in the AirBnB’s living room, resting on the sofa as he scrolled through Twitter. He let out a chuckle here and there, sometimes full on laughing whenever a funny meme popped up on his timeline.

“Meesta!” Elira called out to him from the kitchen island.

He turned around to look at the unusually giddy dragon. Confused, he asked, “What’s up?”

“When are you heading back?”

“Uh…” Pulling out his phone, he quickly went through his gallery to find a screenshot of his ticket. Once he found it, he examined the ticket for its boarding time and date then put it away. “In like a couple or so weeks. I thought I told you?”

“I don’t think you did,” she answered.

She motioned him to give her the device, or at least show her the screen. Of course, he complied. Though insane she is, he does have immense respect for her and Lazulight. Mysta stood up from his seat and approached her. Once in the kitchen area, he flipped his phone towards her, letting her singular visible eye take a peek.

Elira hummed as she inspected the ticket details then pulled back. “Cool. Thanks man!”

She walked away from the kitchen, carrying a glass of water upstairs leaving him even more confused.

It’s been three weeks since his unusual encounter with Elira. He sits idly at a bench by a luggage conveyor in the airport, waiting for his bags to unload from the plane. While waiting, he leans back into his seat and lets out an exhausted sigh. Luckily, no one is seated beside him, so he could just take up all the space on this uncomfortable bench. Still, he couldn’t help but reminisce onto their conversation.

Was she planning something? Was she just curious? What was she cooking?

Now, he’s back in the dreaded land of England, land of the beloathed. He pulls out his phone and immediately checks Discord. The EN server is lively as always, everyone’s practically home but the sense of energy radiates from the screen despite being digital. Like any other liver, he hops in the conversation a bit, sometimes memeing around with the others in the general channel.

Although, he noticed that your icon hasn’t appeared at least once since he landed. He was even paying attention to the top left corner of his screen for a red dot indicating your message. Normally, you’d send him a meme or something to see while he’s asleep or busy. But strangely enough, you haven’t yet. Maybe he should send you something? Or maybe call?

Mysta continues to catch up and reflect on the livers’ vacation in Japan on the server, his attention eventually caught by a familiar bag on the conveyor.

Welp. Looks like he’ll call you later.

—

Thank god Elira had the brain cells to make sure your flight isn’t after his own. Of course, she had to take in account about the flight times since you’re both literally across the globe from each other going to London. To avoid missing him right after landing, you were booked super early into the morning. But sometimes, there’s a possibility that you might be too early when he lands. And, unfortunately, that seems to be the case.

“He lands around midnight,” Elira told you on phone prior to checking in. “So you should be a biiiit early.”

Yeah, by like, 2 hours.

Man, what the hell are you supposed to do for two whole hours? Well, at least you have your phone AND your luggage. You could even people watch in the lobby. But that’s 2 hours!

What’s even more fucked up is that you can’t really use your phone unless you find the wifi. But airport wifi is kinda shitty, especially in England of all places. Talk about a British debuff.

You let out a heavy sigh and collapse into your seat. Napping is out of the question, even though you’re still kind of tired from the flight. Don’t wanna risk missing him by a smidgen, of course. So you ended up roaming around the airport for a while, getting yourself some drinks and snacks to keep you occupied while waiting for your friend. Luckily there were plenty of places to lounge while waiting, so you found a place to sit and enjoy your haul of snacks while waiting.

You did get to connect to the public wifi to look at some memes, but again, it’s the airport wifi. With how slow your phone’s been loading, you eventually disconnect yourself from the wifi after moments of mindless scrolling.

But then you realized something.

You have absolutely no idea what gate he’s in.

Panicked, you scramble to pick up your bags from your side and stand up. Shit, did Elira tell you what airline he took? God, having data in another country would be so helpful. There’s absolutely no way you’re gonna reconnect to the public wifi, it’s too damn slow! If you did have data, you’d look back to your DMs and scrub through your brief conversation from last night.

With a quick glance at your phone, the clock flashes briefly on the screen. 9:20pm, that means his flight’s arriving in less than an hour. Oh shit.

Immediately, you pace briskly throughout the terminals. As you scrounge through the crowds just to take a good look at the terminals, you ask staff for international flights from Japan along the way to help narrow down as much as possible. Throughout the search, you occasionally checked the clock on your phone. 9:40? Shit, his flight should be here now or soon.

“Mysta!” You suddenly shout, passerbys looking at you strangely as you start calling for his name. Your luggage rolls and bumps against the crevices of the floor, bags jostling as you promptly continue your search throughout the terminals. “Mysta Rias!”

Meanwhile, in the same area…

An ashy gray haired man stands in front of the carousel, waiting for the rest of his bags to drop onto the conveyor belt. He pulls out his phone from his pocket, taking a quick glance at his notifications and Discord. His mouth lowers into a frown, his brows furrowing in worry as he notices the lack of notifications from you. Did they really fall asleep?

Clink-clang!

Sunset kissed eyes shift towards the carousel at the sound. Spotting his luggage on the conveyor belt, he walks over to his revolving baggage and lifts them onto the ground. Maybe he’ll shoot you a dm later when he gets home. The handle on his large case clicks as he pulls it up, soon dragging it on its wheels behind him as he heads towards the direction of the exit.

You continue running and searching for him, frantically calling his name throughout the terminal. Your head turns left and right as you look into the surrounding late night crowd, your gaze briefly analyzing each arrival for any hint of his gray hair or his tallness. As you remain standing in the middle of the hall, looking for him, you see a tall man wearing small shades on the bridge of his nose. Gray side hairs framing his face sway into the air as he lugs his bags from the baggage claim and towards the nearest exit.

Without a second thought, your feet starts moving towards him. “Mysta—“ you call. “Mysta!”

After seconds and minutes of searching for him, calling his name and pushing through the crowd as you chase after him. Just a little more…!

“MYSTA!”

And finally… Finally, you see him.

With a clear shout of his name, the gray haired man halts.

Bewildered, he looks left and right until he turns around to see you panting. His heart stopped as he stares at you astonishly. The ambience of the crowd and muffled intercom speakers drowned out as he zoned onto you.

He looked at you.

The person standing just centimeters away from him.

The person who he thought was someone he’d never meet face to face ever.

The person who helped him find a reason to keep going even in the darkest of times.

It felt like hours just staring at each other. It didn’t even feel like there was an ocean of people swarming about and passing by. Without a second thought, Mysta slowly approaches you as if he were to scare you off. As if he didn’t want to wake up, if he is dreaming.

As he gets closer and closer, you didn’t make a move. No, you merely stared at him with wonder and excitement im your eyes.

You both stood across each other, only a few centimeters apart. He blinks several times, even pinching his wrists to disprove his thoughts. But he felt a stinging pain on each part.

An airy huff somewhat resembling a laugh escapes from him. Relief washes over him, and he whispers with a smile, “…Hi.”

You smile back.

“Hi.”

#nijisanji #nijisanji en #nijien #luxiem #nijisanji x reader #luxiem x reader #mysta rias #mysta rias x reader #luxiem x you #luxiem imagines #nijisanji en x reader #— a simple dream // writing

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lorenid · 11 months

Text

Sleeping Habits

Genre: fluff, established relationship, domestic, idol chan

Word Count: 1.8k

Warning: anxiety/insomnia topic, light suggestive lines

Summary: Two 20 something year olds that can fall in love, but can’t fall asleep

A/N: Happy 5-STAR Comeback Day! It’s my first official comeback and I’m celebrating by streaming while finishing this short one-shot that I’ve been putting off since April. I didn’t proof read this at all, please let me know about any errors. Anyways… I’m back on my self indulgence, bc the world inside my head is better than my real world anyways, might as well make it a good one. Fun fact (that only I care about, but I like to over share): My bias for Chan started as soon as I read that he was born 1 year minus a day apart from me. Enough about my delusions, this is also my first time writing about SKZ so here goes nothing.

You arrive home exhausted after a 12 hour shift at the hospital you work at, tossing your heels at the entrance of the cozy apartment you share with Chan.

“Honey, I’m home.” You say with a singing tone making your way to leave your belongings on the living room sofa so you don’t forget them the next morning. Checking the kitchen to put away some washed plates and glasses.

“Hey, baby. Did you have a good day?” You hear him shuffling around before you see him, wearing his usual black shirt, black basketball shorts and socks. He kisses the crown of your head, engulfing you into a back hug, hands gripping your hips. Quickly turning you around giving you a sweet gentle kiss before you can even open your mouth to say a word.

“Tiring but good, a lot of patients showed great progress today and that keeps me going. How about you, did you finish the track you were working on before I left?” You bend your arms to rub his back until your fingers squeeze his shoulders to release the tension moving along to the nape of his neck.

After almost a year of living together you’re used to his habit of waking up, saying good morning with his groggy voice, sealing his greeting with a kiss and heading straight to the studio. Because he can’t do anything else before revising the work he did the night before listening with a fresh mind to get his genius creativity flowing. You do your morning routine and put down the breakfast beside his work desk, worried that he’ll forget to eat for a while if he’s consumed by the music. Sometimes he’s so excited about a song that he rambles trying to explain all the details of the arrangement, accidentally making you sprint to leave for work to avoid being late. Everyday you’re tempted to stay for a little bit longer just to appreciate his sparkling eyes talking about his new endeavors.

“I did! I’ll share it with the kids tomorrow to get their feedback.” The kids aren’t really kids… well kinda. Since your relationship with Chan started they have teased him that if they could kick him out of they group they would just to have you as their leader. Specially Seungmin claiming that Chan is getting too old, even though you are closer in age to your boyfriend than him. But you wouldn’t dare to try to keep them apart, because they are his family and they have become yours too.

“That’s amazing, I know they’ll love it! I have noticed that you’ve been working really hard these past few weeks. So hopefully you can get some rest.” Now you’re clinging to him putting most of your weight on him and he has no choice but drag you around.

“Yeah I’m glad that is done. Honestly we both tend to overwork so much that when we have time for us we miss working, but when we are back to the routine we are exhausted.” The ultimate contradiction of you both being extreme perfectionists. He leans besides the fridge and you look up to him, his cute droopy eyes make you feel like you’re wrapped in a warm hug.

“I really want us to do better about relaxing for our own sanity. It’s a work in progress.” You lift your hands to caress his dimples and cheeks with your thumb.

“Speaking about that, should I make some tea and call it an early night?” He kindly offers, opening cabinets in search of mugs and the chamomile honey lemon tea packets.

“Yes please! I’ll get out of these clothes and get ready for bed asap.” You’re endeared by his thoughtfulness as he makes a warm tea for him, but sets aside yours adding extra honey and putting it in the fridge because if it isn’t sweet and cold you make faces of disgust just by tasting a drop.

“Do you need any help with that?” He checks you up and down with a cheeky smile, the clinking of the spoon swirling around the tea stopping for a brief second.

“Um that would jeopardize our mission, sir.” You say it with a lower voice, rolling your eyes playfully and watch as he blushes and his ears turn a little bit red.

“Oh… right.” He shakes his head as if he’s brushing away his suggestive thoughts.

After taking a long hot shower, you change into a sweatshirt and comfy shorts sitting in front of the vanity desk and mirror. The hue of the night lights around the room setting the mood of relaxation, Chan spent an entire day setting them up and cutely annoying you changing the colors every second. You hear the door slightly open while you’re brushing your hair to prevent the frizz, it will probably get tangled anyways, but just doing this little things give you comfort.

“What you doing?” He says softly peeking his head through the door, you turn and smile at him extending your arms signaling with your hands to come in.

“Just brushing this crazy hair, did you wash up already?” You sigh exasperated grabbing the tea he prepared.

“Yeah, I did before you came home.” He settles his mug besides yours as he quickly moves to the corner of the bed near you. Motioning to scoot closer to him and hand him the brush.

“You’re the best.” He treats you with the type of care that makes you fall in love over and over again.

“I’m not hurting you, right?” He asks, worry on his tone. Stopping to hear your answer before continuing, drinking the rest of his tea.

“Not at all, you’re really good at this actually.” You reassure him because he loves doing this for you is turning into part of his night time routine. He finishes, running his fingers through your hair and kissing the crown of your head as you sip the last drops.

A few minutes later after going to the bathroom to brush your teeth, you both slip under the blankets. Chan plays Pokemon while listening to his favorite playlist while you attempt to read a chapter of a book, but your mind always wonder to random things instead.

“You know what we need?” Your out of the blue excitement makes him jump a little, holding on to your wrists because you hit his arm playfully asking for attention.

“A rocking chair! Think about it, if its big enough we can both fit and take turns.” You start searching for them on the phone to show him different options.

“Am I completely missing the point or does this sound a bit… naughty?” He stares deep into your eyes cocking his head to the side.

“Get your head out of the guter! Its another technique to fall asleep we could try. When I was little my grandma used to hold me and I was out like a light after swaying for a bit.” You gently slap the side of his head as if that would solve anything and he laughs.

“Well, we can definitely try.” He stands up to turnoff the lights, getting back to the bed you pat the space in front of you to cuddle him. You wrap him in a hug crossing your arms on his back moving your hands to rock him a little as if you were on the rocking chair. He lets out a deep breath aligning his head with yours, welcoming the comfortable silence.

“A la nanita nana, nanita nana, nanita ella, mi niño tiene sueño, bendito sea, bendito sea.” He raises his eyebrows surprised by your singing, but he doesn’t say anything worried that you’ll stop. It’s a famous Hispanic lullaby that at first was intended as a Christmas song about Jesus, but it passed down from generation to generation to help children fall asleep.

“A la nanita nana, nanita nana, nanita ella, mi Channie tiene sueño, bendito sea, bendito sea.” You gently stroke between his eyes and down his nose with your pinky finger. He gives you a soft smile with his eyes closing like crescent moons when he hears his nickname.

“I’m not fair that I’m drifting away while you sing like an angel. I wish I could rush to the studio and record your voice so I can listen to it on loop when I’m away on tour and imagine that you’re there beside me.” He has confessed before that he struggles to find comfort in strange places like hotel rooms and sometimes the time difference doesn’t help with you whispering throught the phone to at least calm his racing heart.

“It’s a deal if you also record yours.” You have heard him before jokingly singing it to his members before they hang up and you can’t help but be a little bit jealous.

“Oh, do you actually mean right now? You love to put me in the spot, don’t you?” He says in surprise when you reach your phone finding the app and placing the phone in between your pillows next to his head. He’s too busy to notice that you already pressed the red button because he’s shuffling to press his hands to your sides under your sweatshirt.

“Of course I do, I won’t deny it and you lowkey love it.” You brush away the strands of hair that are sticking up and the ones that tickle you when he brushes his nose against yours before positioning your head below his craning his neck to be as close as he can to your phone.

“Close your eyes, go to sleep.” He carefully places a hand covering your eyes, giggling under his breath when he feels your eyelashes fluttering.

“Know my love is all around.” His hands travel around your waist to hold you closer to his chest, you hear his heartbeat and try to breathe profoundly to slow down yours.

“Dream in peace, when you wake.” He sneaks a hand up to pet your hair, spreading his fingers to cover the back of your head, a deep breath escapes your lips.

“You will know I'm still with you.” He notices that your breathing is evening and slowly remove one from under your clothes to stop the audio recorder without startling you as he also feels himself drift.

251 notes · View notes

dcangel · 2 months

Note

https://media4.giphy.com/media/oUMlBq55tkfsI/giphy.gif?cid=2154d3d7tyqfy3s47rkdws1wcn3bvxc1tp2xu9t5lq5vtwsy&ep=v1_gifs_related&rid=giphy.gif&ct=g

^^^this gif with Stiles Stilinski if you don’t mind:)

omg ofc ofc!! (link)

also idk how long this ask has been in here, i’ve had my tumblr notifications off bc i was getting spammed from the percy jackson & kronos post, but im grateful for the suggestion<33

mature themes below the cut

the word ‘please’ wasn’t acquainted with stiles’ vocabulary. when he wanted something, he took it. and you willingly gave it up.

yet he found it slipping from his swollen lips like any other word.

your thighs were on either side of his jeans clad hips, your chest pressed to his. though equally clothed, you could feel his desire, his need.

his hands gripped your thighs, fingertips reaching your inner thigh. words were exchanged, but sentences were left unfinished. the air in your lungs wasn’t nearly enough to be considered substantial, the burn coating your throat only served as validation.

the thick, hot air hung heavily around the two of you, tainted with the scent of his cologne and a slight tinge of mint from the gum you had been chewing moments before he placed you on top of him.

you’re core went limp when his hand guided your hips in one swift motion over his, leaving you to chase the sensation just to get another bout of pleasure. so much for the ab strength you’d been working on in the gym while stiles worked towards lacrosse fitness goals.

at times stiles would whine for his own sake, wanting nothing more than to simply sit back and let you take the reigns, but he wanted to work for it today. he wanted to earn that feeling he got from seeing you get off from his doing, or to see the way your face scrunched and your eyebrows knit, your lip being tucked between your teeth while the moans and appreciative mumbles slipped past the small spaces.

“please, baby,” his hands groped at your ass, fingers digging into the covered flesh before releasing as if he hadn’t known his own strength, “you gotta let go. let me guide you.”

the temptation was strong, and you could nearly feel the reward brewing in your gut. but it was hard for you to let him be the one doing the care taking. you couldn’t help that it was in your nature to please others. “i can’t.” you whimpered lazily against his kiss-bitten lips.

a large hand made its way up your side, taking its time to pass over each curve like every little detail, though contained under fabric, was being committed to memory to improve earlier versions. his thumb took a swipe at the underwire of your bra, leaving the slightest tingling sensation.

the other hand sent for the spot you couldn’t keep from dragging across his confined bulge. his fingers slid beneath the fabric of your shorts, stopping once they reached the damp spot on the front of your panties that they’d been looking for. he pressed his thumb to your puffy clit, applying nothing but that small amount of pressure with the pad of his thumb. “yes you can. i know you can.”

his dragged his thumb over and around your swollen bud, drawing a small moan from you, temporarily delaying your movements.

“n…i can’t.” you protested, weakness evident. “please,” you uttered, feeling your hips betray you by grinding downward on his hand.

stiles, emboldened by the move, decided to be greedy. his middle finger snuck under the soaked cloth, finding the source for the wetness instantly. “’feels like you can.” he jeered, smirking against your lips.

the hair at his nape was targeted as a way to ground yourself; your fingers tugging at the brown locks. “stiles, please, i…” his finger gently sunk into you, making you forget your powerless argument.

he smiled and pulled his face from yours, not letting himself miss this perfect view. “that sounds more like it.” his sarcastic tone made the taunt seem snarky. condescending, even.

you felt another long, slim finger easily slid into your wetness, joining the other in stroking your welcoming walls. the energy to keep yourself up right was not found, instead going to the potential build up of something satisfying. you let your limp torso softly collide with his, leaning forward with most of your weight.

amidst the turmoil in your mind, stiles had subtly retracted his fingers, allowing space for him to sink them back in, his two fingers curling as they did so. “’need you to be a good girl and let me help you, alright?”

#it’s unedited don’t come at me #stiles stilinski #teen wolf #stiles’!world #dylan obrien #stiles’s!world #stiles stilinski teenwolf #stiles smut #stiles stilinski smut #stiles stilinski x you #stiles stilinski fanfiction #stiles teen wolf #stiles x reader #teen wolf stiles #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles teen wolf smut #teen wolf smut

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ohbabydollie · 3 months

Note

I need more of schlatt & latina reader PLEAAAASDEE 😵‍💫

few more hcs!!

if you grew up in a home that was more of a “children are meant to be seen not heard” schlatt will hear you out!

he will make sure you do feel heard, even when it’s hard

he knows can’t fix the past so he’ll help you learn how to do good in the future

he understands you don’t mean to be angry or upset sometimes but you just are and will wait until you want to talk about it

he’s wants to be there for you through the good and the bad and the awful

onto the less angsty

yk how his fam is big corn people?

ELOTES/ESQUITES!!

he will eat tf out of some esquites or any street food as a matter of fact

likes going to tianguis, la pulga, etc. with you!

especially the cheap ass prices at a pulga

throw in some chicharrón bien preparado n call it a date

likes looking for places to go eat with you

has made it a saturday morning tradition that you both go eat pancita (or anything you like) at a restaurant for breakfast/brunch

it hits everytime, especially when you’re both hungover

likes his gansitos frozen (no i’m not taking criticism)

keeps little snacks or candies in his pantry/fridge all the time

calls u “cariño” “corazón de melón” “vieja” “amor” “chiquita” “chikibaby”etc. especially if one of the nicknames pisses u off

LOVES salsa valentina and chamoy

god forbid someone makes homemade chamoy bc he’s absolutely devouring it with any and every fruit he can think of

if you listen to bolero while cleaning with him he’ll stop you so you guys can dance

“not right now, i gotta clean schlatt” you say as your boyfriend hugs you from behind “jus’ take a break, c’mon it won’t kill ya” he says as you roll your eyes and finally agree

“okay, but no funny business” you say putting the rag down and washing your hands to dance with him. he smiles at you, leaning into you and softly singing the lyrics to you as you smile

before you know it, you find yourselves making out with the music in the background, cleaning supplies forgotten but you’ll get to cleaning tomorrow

he genuinely puts so much love and passion into your relationship, getting you flowers, making the most out of little moments, etc.

he will be as romantic as he can be

meeting your cousins sucks for him though

they (especially if you have any male cousins) side eye him most of the time when they first meet him

they don’t mean to be rude but wtf is a random boy doing in their home???

your male cousins (esp if they see you as a little sister) don’t think anyone is good enough for you

they try to scare off schlatt at first but it doesn’t work so they try plan B

making him stay stupid shit in spanish infront of the family until he gets embarrassed and decides not to return (spoiler it doesn’t work)

“say ‘tengo el pene chiquito’ ” a cousin says to schlatt “tengo el pene chiquito(i have a small dick)?” schlatt asks as they snicker and nod “yeah just like that, don’t change a word” they say laughing while schlatt nods in acknowledgment

“ok, just don’t change a word” they say laughing while you go up to schlatt “y/n, guess what?” he asks you “hm?”

“te voy a dar mis hijos (im gonna give you my kids)” he says making you go red and your cousins stare at him

“hablas español (you speak spanish)?” they ask as he nods

most of your family interrogating him AND you

“does he treat you well?” “does he make good money?” “would he make you work” “cuantos hijos quiere (how many kids does he want)?” “es católico? (is he catholic)” etc.

at the end they decide that they approve of him

he should watch him back if you guys have a nasty break up though (warned by any male family member of urs)

“haha, just don’t break her heart” one of your uncles says to schlatt, laughing and shaking him as schlatt laughs nervously

“no seriously, hurt her and you’re dead, i’ve been to prison, i’ll go again”

at the end of the day as long as you’re happy, they’ll be happy

#jschlatt x reader #schlatt x reader #jschlatt x you #jschlatt x y/n #schlatt x y/n #schlatt x you #jschlatt headcanons

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raainberry · 4 months

Text

Tis’ The Season

« Silly Series - 6 »

Momo x gn!reader

Fluff

synopsis - a chaotically sweet moment with gf momo as the holidays typically allow

wordcount - 823

T/W - suggestive (very (not) subtle)

A/N - some domestic holiday fluff with momo bc i can and why not🤭

“Do you want to put the star on top?” You asked, handing the ornament to your girlfriend.

Her eyes lit up, and you couldn’t help but smile at her excitment from how infectious it was. You could never explain why or how, but her happiness happened to be yours from the moment you met.

If you cared, you’d try to at least understand where that came from, but it seemed much less enjoyable than just embracing it.

So that’s what you’ve done for the past two years. Trying to make Momo as happy as she made you, embracing her love and what came with it, never missing an opportunity to share yours with her.

Momo loved to feel it through your touch. Your hand in hers, your fingertips on her skin, your lips on hers… She loved it all. But she didn’t expect her arms around you in that precious moment, much less the way you lifted her off the ground.

“What are you doing? There’s a chair right there.” She giggled, pointing at the wooden chair you’d both been using to decorate the tree.

“I’ve been wishing to be this chair for a while, let me have this one.” You whined and she rolled her eyes, hoping it would distract you from the blush creeping on her cheeks.

“I can’t even reach it.” She said, resting the ornament on your shoulder before suddenly getting sent a little higher.

“How about now?” You smiled as the sound of her laughter filled the small living room of your apartment.

“Yes, perfect!” She grinned, putting the golden star where it belonged.

Once she made sure it was secure, she looked down at you with that eye-smile of hers along with the same bright grin you fell for. The combo still made you weak in the knees, but you fought through this one to keep the both of you safe. The cookies you’d baked earlier were already enough of a disaster, you didn’t need a trip to the E.R.

For some reason, the recent memory of her disapproving face after volunteering to test-taste warmed your heart. Sure, it was bad and a waste of ingredients, but at least you tried and it made something more to laugh about until the next holidays.

You couldn’t wait until then already, feeling an absurd amount of love for the woman in your arms. It was overwhelming, pulling at your lips as you fought to keep it under control. You felt crazy at times, how was it possible to love someone so much?

You never bothered to find the answer to that, and you certainly weren’t going to start now. Instead, you decided to release this tension within yourself by laying an innocent kiss on the exposed skin of her stomach.

The butterflies in Momo’s chest were a habit at this point, but the tickling sensation was a surprise. She couldn’t help but bring her hand to where you’d kissed her, folding into it and causing herself to slip out of your grip.

You managed to land her on her feet as her survival instincts pushed her to wrap her arms around your neck. Her laugh was ever so chaotic, yet so sweet to your ears—it sent you into such a blissful daze that you barely saw her coming for your lips.

She left a couple of kisses on them as a thank you, and you could only kiss her back at the second one.

You could have used a warning, but you didn’t mind. You loved her surprise kisses, the ones you expected the least yet practically screamed how much she loved you in fault of not finding the words to.

Those were your favorite.

Momo knew that thanks to the smile adorning your lips every time she pulled away. She considered it an answer to her wordless confession. An assurance that you loved her just as much, if not a little more.

“Thank you for saving my life.” She giggled, cupping your cheeks as you leaned into her touch. “And for helping me even though I didn’t ask.”

“Any time. Whenever you need a chair just call me.” You joked, earning yourself another eye-roll (although still not the one you’d prefer to see) as she pushed you away.

You nearly tripped over one of her dogs, as the commotion had caught enough of their attention to come and see what it was all about.

You couldn’t tell which one it was because it started chasing you as soon as you unwillingly proved yourself to be a threat.

“Yes, Dobby, attack!” You heard Momo yell, and a quick glance towards her offered you a sight you’d have melted over once more if you weren’t busy fighting for your life.

It all went so fast. One second you were melting over your girlfriend’s love and the other you were trying to escape said girlfriend’s enraged dog.

The sound of her laughter reaching your ears through Boo and Dobby’s barking oddly made you think you could go on running around forever.

Gosh, you were so down bad.

#momo x reader #twice x reader #twice momo #hirai momo #boo dobby💀

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be-my-ally · 11 months

Text

Caught in a Trap

This has been a WIP since…. January? It predates my Tumblr anyhow - the concept is, uh, ridiculous, a cheesy rom-comesque situation. But for some reason, I just love having pretend arguments with Elvis - it’s honestly one of my go-to scenarios. Then, this prompt came along and I thought, huh, I’m pretty sure this would work with this, so I dug it out from the depths of my files and here we are xx

prompt fill: “How are we going to solve this problem?”

pairing: Elvis (1961/2) / fem!Reader

warnings: 18+, kind of manipulative!elvis, accusations of cheating, fake date, kissing, the suggestion of oral sex… but nothing actually pictured (honestly …. this is because i feel like all i’ve done recently is write the exact same description of it …. so if anyone wants to send me those time machine instructions so i can get some more inspo that would be *great*) . fictional member of the entourage as like a billy-esque person, but just a teeny bit older. Jerry hanging around when he may not have been - i’m envisioning he just popped over for something rather than working for e in this one but that may just be bc i wrote him into it and need an excuse for him to be there.

summary: essentially an alternative, younger, take of the older, sexier ‘We can’t go on together’ - Confronting Elvis about his casual kissing and the aftermath of being told ‘sure, its fine if you want to find someone else to take you out’ - spoiler…. It’s not fine.

wc: 4.4k

as always for the dolls @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @thatbanditqueen @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love @missmaywemeetagain

It’s difficult, having these conversations with him, they somehow always turn accusing - both of you slinging accusations at one another. But you can’t keep watching him go on as he is, can’t keep watching from the sidelines where he’s ensconced you between the walls of Graceland. It’s painful at best, humiliating at worst, watching him with his hands on the necks of other girls, kissing their cheeks - or god forbid their lips at the gates, in the car. Wherever he happens to be. He’s always liked girls, chased after them ever since he was old enough to want to and he didn’t often see much harm in chasing now either. Maybe you would see less harm yourself, in his careless affection for his fans, if you felt like he was putting in enough effort to you - that you weren’t just being taken advantage of. But as much as you struggle through, logically knowing he loves you, it doesn’t really feel like it at the moment. It comes to a head one evening when he stalks through the front door, furious that you’d leapt from the car and stormed up to the house when he was “just talking! I was just talkin’ to her! What did you want me to do!”

You’d awkwardly stood there in the foyer, chest heaving with your emotions but uncertain what was best to say, when he’d continued his rant;

“Oh naw, C’mon now, you wanna have it out, let’s have it out. C’mon, what’s the problem?” You sigh,

“Noth-” He huffs at you, crossing his arms, his reddish-brown suit crinkling with the motion, as if telling you he knows that’s a lie. “Ok, fine. I don’t see why you always gotta let ‘em be all over you.” That’s barely the half of it, but no good ever comes from these arguments with him.

“They’ve been waiting out there for hours, it’s the least I could do!” He shakes his head, “No, this has gotta be more than just some lil jealous thing, so go on - what’s wrong, I’ve not been treatin’ you enough?” You flinch as if you’ve been slapped, its a mean accusation and he knows it; the implication that’s all you’re there for, as if you hadn’t been there before; hadn’t waited with barely a phone call a week for two years for him to come home. Despite your best efforts you can feel your eyes filling with tears, though you attempt to furiously blink them away, knowing he hates it. He sighs, “Nah, I’m sorry baby, that wasn’t, that wasn’t fair, what is it?” He grabs your arm, slinking around so that he’s cupping you against his chest, “C’mon no need for that, what is it botherin’ you?” It’s almost comical, the degree to which he is in denial about his own affinity for being the problem, but you’ve already had enough of the discussion and just want it to be over now. So you clutch at straws, mind grabbing the first thing that he might find as an acceptable reason for your poor mood;

“Elvie - Baby, I just, I never get to go out anymore.” He huffs again, pulling back a little so he can look down at you, he rolls his eyes, as if he’s about to disagree before he looks to the side, deflating a little.

“No, you’re right. It’s not fair to you - pretty young dolls should be taken out every night of the damn week,” You frown, you’re barely two years younger than he is, “but baby, I gotta, gotta work, I’m just so goddamn busy at the moment sweetheart, I can’t just, I just don’t have the time.” You pout at him, understanding but still unhappy. He pulls you around to sit down, sitting beside you, your thighs touching.

It hadn’t been a total lie; you weren’t happy about the evenings sat waiting at home, just hoping tonight would be the night he shows up when he said he would. He stares out the window a moment, clearly thinking. He meets your eyes, holding your gaze for so long that you feel like you have to look away before saying, “Well gee honey,” his tone full of faux nonchalance, “maybe, uh, maybe you can go on dates if you wanna. Find someone to take you out when I can’t. Just…just as long as you’re being good on ‘em. Real good, mama, you hear me?” You’re a little confused what’s being proposed but you hurriedly nod all the same, “I don’t wanna hear about your mouth bein’ places it shouldn’t.” You’re quick to agree,

“Of course, it’s more, I just want the company El, I still don’t have many girlfriends here in Memphis now, but I don’t wanna be kissing anyone but you.” He pats your leg, nodding almost magnanimously, clearly pleased at his generosity of the suggestion,

“Well then sure, honey, go and have fun. Actually, that’ll solve my problem with the Colonel too.”

So with that permission, when two weeks later one of the boys - Tommy, approached you and asked timidly if you wanted to go out with him that night, “I-uh know you’re with Elvis, but I know you have a, uh, agreement of sorts, and I’d uh love to spend the evening with you doll.” You had gladly agreed. Elvis wasn’t even going to be home, and he had said you could go out; who better than one of his boys?

You’re surprised, in the late evening, how good of a time you’re having, even as you can’t help but compare; Elvis would have opened that door for you. Elvis would have had a bouquet in his hand, if not something more extravagant. Elvis would have sat on the same side of the table as you. Elvis wouldn’t have flinched away when your elbows touched. Still, for being with someone who wasn’t Elvis you were having a nice enough time and it was fun to spend some time acting your age again. Being normal. It wasn’t necessarily something you’d want to do super often but both you and Tommy were aware your heart was elsewhere and so you didn’t have to worry about letting him down, and he made sure you were both still having a good time. It was honestly just nice to be out, and not accosted while doing so. You’re sucking up the last of your milkshake, well aware the date is going nowhere and therefore not ashamed to noisily suck up the dregs, the loud noise making Tommy chuckle.

“You know doll - when EP suggested this I thought he’d gone insane, but I’ve had a good time tonight.” The pet name flowed off of his tongue as easily as it seemed to in all of Elvis’ southern entourage but you can’t help but wince internally a tiny bit at his usage. However, you’re immediately distracted by the rest of his sentence, the last of the milkshake turning to what felt like pure ice running through your throat to your tummy,

“Sorry, did you just say… Elvis suggested this?” Tommy suddenly looks a little bashful, eyes wide,

“Uh - yeah, I thought…he said he thought the press would stop hounding you so much if uh - you looked unattached from him? Said people were starting to guess you were uhhh goin’ steady stead of just seein’ him. So he told me to take you out - dinner and a movie, make sure we were seen and uhhh…. told me I could do whatever you asked….you know keepin’ up ‘ppearances but to keep my hands to myself.” You’re stunned, and feel so, so very stupid. You’d honestly thought he liked you, at the very least as a friend, and while you had had no intention of it being anything but an evening that might make Elvis jealous you still had liked the attention.

“…sorry, are you saying that you were paid to go on this date with me?”

“Uhhh look, I thought you knew! I thought it was a joint thing, and I uh wasn’t paid anything more than I norm-lly would for an evening’s work. Ain’t like I took much persuadin’ - you’re a pretty girl!” Well there was that at least. “I didn’t meanta offend ya or anythin.” he sounds sincere, and while you’re still shaken by this revelation your brain is running through scenarios that may make the evening still worthwhile. You smooth your features, and smile up at him glancing at him under your eyelashes

“Well-there’s one way you can make it up to me.” It’s like he can tell where your mind has gone and he looks sideways nervously,

“Uh, well see here though doll, Elvis… he’ll kill me. He’ll kill me dead.” You let out a little, fake, giggle.

“Oh no it’s just a game - he’s just foolin with you, the silly goose.” You worry you might be laying it on a bit thick but he definitely is starting to relax. “Look, I uh, don’t think he’d be thrilled to see anything in the papers but look, if you let Jerry catch us in the caddy; I’ll double whatever Elvis was gonna pay you…” He still looks uncertain, and you panic for a second before you get a sudden flash of inspiration - “And I’ll make sure he doesn’t go mad at you.” He still looks worried but is clearly on the fence, “… and I’ll put in a good word with Jackie for you.” His face lights up. Jackpot.

It’s awkward as you drive back, both of you preparing for it, he clearly wants to know why on earth you seem to have lost your mind but is evidently too afraid to ask. And you’re spending the time wondering the exact same thing, but, at the end of the day… Elvis can only be so mad, right? He does basically the same thing all the time. When he pulls into the spot designated for the car, you turn to him - there needs to be ground rules.

“Ok. Hands above my waist. At all times.” He nods, eyes wide, “Ok, ok this’ll be fine. Just a kiss - a regular kiss, no tongue or anything.” He nods again, rapidly, like the fear is subsiding somewhat and he can’t quite believe his luck.

You don’t have to wait long, you’d timed it almost perfectly for when you knew Jerry would be heading out to meet his current girl. You can see him stand there and put his hand up to his forehead, attempting to block your headlights which you’d ‘accidentally’ bumped on when he started to walk up.“Ok,” You look over at Tommy, inching across the seat, “Ok, quick before he goes,” You don’t allow it to go on for very long, but certainly long enough and it’s only shortly after when you pull away, acting as if you were in a daze; quickly flicking off the lights and killing the power entirely. When you glance up again, Jerry’s gone.

‘Shit.’ You think, feeling uneasy all of a sudden. It was one thing to give a performative kiss, for a reason - to a fan begging for it, but quite another to have potentially done so without an audience. It makes you feel strangely guilty about the whole evening. You thank Tommy again, making it clear it’s time for him to leave; he gets out when you do and starts to heads towards the house but before he’s taken three steps you’re calling back to him, “Uh Tommy, just in case - unless he sends for you, I’d probably lay low until I have a chance to speak to him.” He looks back at you and nods. Despite your assurances (and his clear desire to go out with Jackie) you can tell he was still apprehensive about facing Elvis. He changes the direction he was heading in, instead heading for the back entrance - clearly about to go and find some of the other boys to hang out with - or maybe bum a lift home from one of them, while you get out of your car, smooth your dress and hair and head for the front door.

You walk in, expecting pretty much a party since it was the right time of night for that to be happening and hear nothing but Elvis at the piano; your stomach plummets, it’s rare he’s home at this time, and even rarer that he’s clearly alone - you feel even guiltier about what you’ve done. He’d clearly wanted you to have him to come home to, no doubt knowing you’d choose him over anyone. You head straight for the music room tucked in the corner of the foyer and see him sat there, mindlessly playing humming along but looking out the window.

“Hi Honey,” You go to greet him with a kiss, but he turns to face you and you realise you’ve severely miscalculated;

“Hi Honey” he mocks you in a high pitched tone, it deepens as he continues to stare directly at you, “Jerry just called me from the car. He had some mighty interestin’ gossip to tell me.” He pats the bench “why dontcha sit down and let me share it with you.” You look around nervously but he really has cleared the place out and there’s no one to excuse yourself with, nor can you think of any good reason to refuse him, so you do as he demands. You hope Tommy had headed back out himself. You try to keep your face expressionless forcibly relaxing your jaw, anxious not to let Elvis know you’re worried; how’re you the one who’s feeling so nervous? Although you’d expected some reaction you hadn’t expected to have to face up to the consequences so soon. Despite everything telling you not to, you sit close to him, thighs touching. You’d normally hook an ankle around his, but that’s a step too far today. His fingers play a little tune while you wait for him to talk.

“You steppin’ out on me baby?” His tone is level, in a way that says his anger has gone past hot temper and straight into cold fury. If he wasn’t so enraged you might find him amusing, sounding a bit like a petulant little boy pretending to be a man. You look over at him, suddenly furious that he, who orchestrated this whole evening, might take offence that you took part in it.

“If I was it’s because you arranged it.” He hits a flat note.

“Because you asked me to.” He’s got an edge of a condescending tone about him, and he talks slowly, like he’s spelling something out for you. “You told me I never take you out anymore and you’d find someone who would. I found someone for you. Thought you’d be happy.” He shrugs.

“So….what exactly is the problem here then?” Your tone is less than polite, but you had expected him to rage at you and his opposite reaction has unnerved you. You go to stand up, exhausted already at the argument that he appears to be ready to have again. It wasn’t how you’d expected this to go - you thought he’d apologise, make up, move on; although you should know by now that he rarely, if ever, apologises for anything. As you round the corner by him, his hand whips out and he grabs your wrist,

“I ain’t done talking to you yet little girl.” You have no choice but to pause where you are,

“I don’t see what’s left to talk about - I did what I said I was going to do, and you arranged it. Did you want me to say thank you? Thank you for insulting me like that?”

He looks over at you and he’s talking fast, lowly like he wants to get his point across as quickly as possible. His head dipping to look up at you from under his eyelashes, his hand that wasn’t clutching you gesturing with his speech;

“N-ow baby, I didn’t have an issue with you bein’ taken out, you’re right I probably don’t spend enough time treatin’ you to all that … although I think you get enough treats. But….Jerry’s just told me there was somethin’ else goin’ on. That’s different from bein’ taken out to dinner baby,” his eyes flash, and he looks you dead in your own, and despite how awkward you feel you can’t look away, his accent growing stronger as his emotions get the better of him; “that’s you steppin out o’line, steppin’ out on me. How are we gonna solve this problem?”

He’s still got a hold of your wrist and he’s holding onto it so tightly, you’re positive it’ll bruise if he holds on much longer. His eyes are burning as he looks over at you, and you can’t help but let yours fill with tears. He shakes his head and wiggles your arm,

“No. Darlin’ don’t you start with them crocodile tears until we got this all straightened out.” He tugs you to stand in front of him as he swivels to sit sideways on the bench. As you try to swallow your tears indignation rises within you;

“You’re not being fair. You step out on me all the damn time El. Lord above, I’m surprised if you’re not out more than you’re in.” He frowns, “and more than that, you arranged it all tonight! manoeuvred me about just how you wanted! How did you expect me to react Elvis? Of course I wanted to get back at you. Give you a little taste of how I feel all the goddamn time.”

“Baby,” His tone as if he’s talking to a child, “I’ve told you before - it’s different for me I’ve -“

‘I swear to god E, if you say you’ve got needs one more fucking time, we’re through and I really mean it this time.” He sucks in a breath, like despite all he’s done he didn’t expect the ultimatum, and usually you’d expect it to annoy him further - for him to tell you fine, go then. But he doesn’t, instead he looks down, suddenly forlorn as if you’ve knocked the wind from his sails.

“I don’t know what you want me to say doll, I can’t bear the thought of you with someone else.” He’s still looking down, at your feet, like a little boy being told off. You hate how it immediately endears him to you again, how you’re immediately thinking of ways you could make him feel better.

“Well why should I have to bear it with you?”

He looks sideways, “It’s ju-just,” he’s clearly nervous and he stutters through the next, “baby I have spoken to the Colonel ‘bout all this, d-d- don’t think I haven’t, he just ain’t keen on me having a girl at the moment. I don’t see how you can come with me everywhere and it not be clear we’re together.” You shake your arm where it’s still in his grip, forcing him to look at you.

“Well El- are we together? Because there’s puttin’ on a show for whatever reason and then there’s sneakin’ girls back when no-ones looking.” Your own accent is coming out stronger as you get louder.

“There ain’t no other girls darling,” he sighs, “I dunno how many times I’ve gotta tell you that.”

“That’s just not true, if it was we wouldn’t be having this conversation in the first place.” He shakes his head, hair starting to come out of its coiffed position with the force of it,

“I swear baby you’re the only girl for me.” You nod, and step forward to put your hands on either side of his face. He leans into them, eyelashes fluttering unconsciously.

“I know you think that when I’m here, but what about when I’m not?”

“I-I don’t know how you’re turning this onto me doll, when you’re the one kissin’ someone else tonight. I’ve been here on my lonesome waiting for you to come home.” You laugh, squeezing his cheeks causing his lips to pucker as he talks,

“Elvis. That’s my life every night.” He frowns.

“Darling, they don’t mean nothing though! I swear it’s just for show! I haven’t had another girl in any way that matters since I met you baby.” You frown back at him, that wasn’t what you’d heard, and ‘not in any way that matters’ doesn’t mean not at all but his earnest expression, with his eyes wide, seems desperate for you to believe him. “Please baby, you hafta believe me.” He pleads, and you can feel yourself slipping,

“Hmmm. Well….if you say so.” You shrug, about to pull away to take a breath and attempt to regain your thoughts without his eyes imploring you. He stands, wrapping his arms around your midriff, with a little wiggle before you can get any further away. A hand travels up to your neck, almost feeling like he’s scruffing you, but his thumb rubs over a pressure point and you can feel the tension in your shoulders ease with each gentle stroke of his finger.

“I swear, mama.” You look up at him, his lips parted - blue eyes earnest, for once not clouded by eyeliner or make-up, “I swear, I- I uh like the attention but I mean I’m a hot blooded man, I can’t turn that off baby, and if a girl’s gonna throw herself at me, I’m not gonna shove her away.” You frown, you’d been about to cave in to anything he said, but you’re hesitant again now - unsure what you’d be agreeing to if not, essentially, giving him permission to do whatever the hell he likes. His hand grips your hip tighter, as if he can sense he’s losing you. “No, c’mon baby, you know it makes sense - it’s, it don’t mean nothing, I swear it, I swear it on, on,” He looks around desperate for divine inspiration, “On my Mama’s grave I swear - you’re my girl.” You’re taken aback by that, it wasn’t something you’d ever heard him say before and Gladys’ name wasn’t ever brought up in any kind of jest. You can’t help but totally believe him. You duck your head, hating yourself a little for making him swear such a promise,

“Oh no, Elvis, I only kissed him to get back at you - make you jealous.” He tucks your head against him, holding you close and shushes you,

“I know sweet, I know. Bet he wasn’t even a good kisser was he? He’s just a boy, ain’t a man like you need.” You shake your head against his chest groaning a little at what you’re about to confess, playing in to his little pissing competition.

“No…wasn’t good at all. Hadda….had to lead.” Elvis laughs,

“Oh no, sweet little thing like you shouldn’t hafta be in charge. You oughta be taken care of.” He tips your head back and brushes your tears away with his thumbs. “No more tears mama,” and he kisses you, gently - twice on the mouth before moving to the side of your face. Butterfly kisses, before leading you by the hand over to the sofa, “Lemme take care of ya, doll.”

He sits, legs parted and his hands grip your hips holding you in place before dragging you closer, it forces you to look down at him. Simultaneously making you feel a little small, and a little like a child, you thread your fingers through his hair, weaving the strands, stiff with gel and spray past your knuckles to tilt his head up. He smiles up at you, a little private half-smile, his eyes crinkling and you’re helpless to anything except leaning down to press a kiss against it. He takes the opportunity of the momentum of your leaning down to tug you onto his lap. Breaking your hold on his hair, and the touch of your lips on his. He takes a moment to situate you, tugging with a hand under your thigh to pull you ever closer to him. Once you’re firmly tucked against his side his other hand travels up your back to support your head, as if you needed it, gripping your neck, the other a heavy presence on your thigh. You shift, helplessly trapped by his hold on you - as if you’d even want to get away, unable to do anything but melt against his chest.

You glance about, sure that the silence and solitude you had found him in was soon to be broken, and nervous about going any further if there was a threat of being interrupted.

“Nah, baby, no-one’s around,” He leans forward, kissing your neck, “Let - “ he moves closer, to your cheek, murmuring against your skin, “me, make it up to you.” He whispered right against your lips. You sink into him completely, lips parting of their own accord, and he delves into them. It’s perfect, despite the slightly awkward angle, and you can’t help but sigh a little breath of relief at the feeling of it, so different from the gentle, chaste kiss in the car. Utterly perfect with his sharp nippy little teeth and darting tongue. He pulls you back, shifting you back but lower, until you’re pretty much horizontal on the sofa, pulling his hand out from under your neck to lay you down completely. He shifts, tumbling off, onto his knees.

He pulls you around with a grip on your thighs before positioning you exactly how he wants, on your back, with your feet planted firmly down, legs spread. He tugs you closer to him, so that you’re almost coming off the couch yourself, pushing your legs apart further so that he could kneel between them. You aren’t sure about this. Not in, essentially, the very first room of the house - not, right by the front door.

“C’mon I’ll make you feel good doll, and then, then I’ll take ya upstairs and you can apologise real pretty to me too.” You frown, about to protest - to suggest, ‘hey how about we go straight upstairs now?’ when all thoughts are gone from your mind as he pushes your already bunched up dress further up and leans in, his breath hot against your panties. He’s … very good at this, and you’re under no illusions that by the time he’s half carrying you on wobbly legs up the stairs that you’ll have completely forgotten about any of those other girls, and by the time he’s placing you on your knees in front of him in the bedroom, that you’ll have totally forgiven him for any future transgressions as well.

#writing prompt game #60s elvis x reader #elvis presley x you #elvis x reader #elvis fanfic #elvis smut is probably a bit too far for what’s in this #so idk #light elvis smut #be-my-ally

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