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oddinary4bts · 1 year

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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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boyinatown · 5 months

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Can I request smut for Samuel where he finds out by overhearing a conversation or something like that, where shy!reader is into being handled roughly while tied up and also being praised.

DIRTY SECRET!

A/n: ahhh! Finally a Samuel smut request, I’m losing my mind. This took long to write. 😭 enjoy.

Warning: sexual themed, bondage and praising kink!

Pairing: Samuel seo x GN! reader!

Never ever have i thought of being tied up was my thing, but when my friend on call suggests it’s the hottest thing that could happen to you , i searched up on my laptop and that then and there curiosity got the better of me: bondage kink claimed!

Now dating Samuel i didn’t have much space to move around when the two of us had sex, his muscular arms and veiny hands always kept me down where he wanted me, so being kept in place wasn’t really an issue with me.

Instead, i liked it when he held me by my throat, thrusts going on and on pounding into my soaking hole taking in more and more and the sound of skin slapping mixed with hoarse moans whenever he kept going for minutes that felt like hours.

But being actually tied up? That sounded way hotter then i wanted it to be. I honestly wanted to experience it , but there was only one problem.

How could i bring this up to Samuel? I mean it’s Samuel, wouldn’t he find it weird that his beloved innocent shy lover was now begging to be tied up and fucked roughly?

I could never explain that to him, for now I guess I’ll just stick to his arms keeping me in place, it’s not like I don’t like it it’s awesome…but the bondage one..that’s where it’s at.

But I can’t accept the humiliation, goodbye kink.

——————— ★

“Bondage kink, how to tie yourself down? How to steam up sex with partner? damn baby, I didn’t know you were this filthy.”

Samuels piercing gaze still on my nude figure and the ropes tightening with each second I can feel myself heat up my my face and other places, trying to avoid his eyes he notices and lifts my chin up with his finger looking away from my phone where I left the tabs open for him to see.

“Is that want you want? Why didn’t you just ask me, I would’ve gladly tied you up earlier y’know.”

“Please Samuel..don’t tease me-“

My voice gets quickly cut off when I feel him place his lips on mine and harshly kissing me, pushing my head further into the headboard and his hands groping my body. He liked it and I knew it , by the way he’s licking my neck all the way down to my stomach and kissing it while looking up at me with hazed eyes.

My small gasps and chest heaving up and down rapidly make the bulge in his pants tighten, even though it’s black I can see a print. It’s no secret, he was huge whenever he and I had sex no matter how many times I could never adjust directly and would need approximately atleast a few minutes.

But today it seems like he doesn’t care by the way he’s eagerly licking at my sensitive spot, his finger prodding at my hole and just plunging in without a warning sending me to lift my upper body and head throwing back against the headboard with a small thud. The pillows already off the bed due to my feet kicking them whenever Samuel hit my g-spot and making me cry and wail like a desperate dog in heat.

Humiliation taking over me and sending me to cry and soft callings of his name to which each time he responded.

“S-Samuel, oh fuck Samuel Samuel..”

“Yeah baby, what’s wrong? What is it tell me..I can’t help you if you won’t say what’s worrying you..”

He teased me everytime and knew I couldn’t respond when the pleasure takes over me, I lock my thighs around his arm and cum with a loud moan, he just watches me come undone with a mean grin as if he enjoyed it to much.

The ropes forming a line on my wrists and ankles due to how much I was moving around trying to escape them but they’re way meaner and better in keeping me in place then Samuel because they were actually not merciful on me like he was giving me a chance to stretch my limbs.

And that’s when I notice Samuel taking off his belt slowly making me try to clench my thighs together but the ropes said otherwise keeping me in place as I whine causing Samuel to chuckle while maintaining eye contact taking off his clothing. After he removed everything and just held his cock in his hand rubbing it on my lower stomach spurring me on and I try to grind back against him but failing cause of the ropes he just kissed my forehead and then starts pushing his self inside me slowly and I hiss out.

“I know baby I know, breathe in and out relax your muscles.”

“It’s to much! It hurts..”

“I’ll be gentle okay? Tell me what to do.”

Hiding my face in the crook of his neck I breathe against his ear and whimpering when he keeps sliding in slowly finally bottoming out and I peek through my eyes between my thighs to see his dick fully inside forming a print in my stomach and I let out a small moan laying my head down.

“You can move..”

He nods taking out his dick slowly then going back in again doing this on repeat pushing me further into the bed and biting at my neck leaving marks, my moans get louder and he takes it as a sign to lose his self to my warmth and ruins my insides.

The bed creaking sure to almost crack hitting against the wall continuously and I knew the neighbors would complain to me again about the noises but I could care less losing my self and yelling out his name.

“Fuck yeah , louder. Your doing so good for me , so precious and gorgeous/handsome for me all mine , all - fucking- mine.”

“I can’t , s-shit’ harder! Fuck me harder!-“

The praising of his voice making me cry and beg for more all while he continues his rough thrusting and pounding my hole tightening on him desperately trying to milk out all his seed, and it does.

After what seemed like hours I finally feel Samuel fill me up and some cum even spilling out since my insides couldn’t take much more and there wasn’t much room, then pulling out and looking down at my crying form weeping and twitching from how hard my orgasm hit.

“You okay precious? I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“No, I felt good…”

“Ah, you dirty pervert, I know your dirty secret now.”

Samuel continues teasing me and I just look at him , he finally takes off the ropes that held me down and I immediately latch on to him hugging his broad back and my hands trying to touch every muscle.

He continues kissing my neck and collarbone while massaging my thighs and stomach, then looks at me with his lips tugged into a smile.

“Wanna go again?”

Furiously blushing at his request I slap his arms playfully and he just laughs loudly, then hugs me kissing me again, and I feel his bulge on my stomach making me sigh and nod up at him.

Could have sworn I saw his eyes beam with stars, or either my vision was clouded with stars due to how hard he fucked me. Ah well, guess I’ll be seeing the Milky Way tonight. <3

…and did. ★

#samuel seo lookism #Samuel seo smut #Samuel seo lookism smut #lookism samuel #samuel seo x reader #lookism smut #samii 🐈‍⬛

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majestyjun · 1 year

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what if…dom!soobin who gets home from work and sees you in one of his burton up shirts that is way to big for you. along with little shorts and thigh high black lacy stockings. dom!soobin who takes you to your shared room and gets turned on by how small you are compared to him >< dom!soobin who gives you a tummy bulge after your second orgasm and cums right when he sees the outlining of his dick in your cute little tummy. dom!soobin who cums inside you by accident and ends up cockwarming you for the rest of the night.

morning after you can’t walk normally and he has to carry you around the apartment which leads to some more dirty thoughts… 👀👀

-(can i be the 🩰 anon?)

# husband!soobin + size kink

tw. f!reader, soobin works a 9-5 LOL corporate guy, size kink, bulge kink, marriage kink, cream pie, pillow princess (somewhat), slight tit play, unprotected. nsfw + minors dni !! not proofread

a/n. soobrangdans n their size kinks for soobin >< actually so cute tho ahaha n hehe 🩰 is all for u ^^

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“fuck…” a soft sigh escapes soobin’s heart shaped lips, his head resting in his hands as his eyes flutter shut, exhausted from blue light exposure and long hours. a stack of fresh papers littering his desk, laptop opened to yet another file to be completed. fatigue weighing heavy on his shoulders, so long ago he had his last coffee the scent vanished. so much for working “solid” hours, groaning upon glancing at his watch. eight thirty-seven… and he was supposed to be a nine to five, but here he was, overtime on a friday. blinking tiredly, as if by a magnetic, unconscious whisper, his gaze drifts to the golden band on his left ring finger. glimmering in the low light, a soft sheen on a simple promise. warmth blooms in soobin’s chest, spreading beneath his white dress shirt, drawing a small smile on his perfect lips. heartwarming thoughts lifting the corners of his lips, fingers coming up to touch his wedding ring affectionately, soft metal smooth against his fingertips. with a blink, as if he can hear your sweet voice whispering in his ear as he reaches into his desk, searching through miscellaneous office supplies before finding a pair of glasses. “soobin, remember to wear your blue light glasses, your eyes will hurt otherwise!” your small hands gently adjusting the glasses on his face, standing on tiptoe to make sure they’re straight, chest pressed to his. soobin’s hands automatically coming to rest on your waist, making sure you’re balanced, a slight blush crossing his cheeks in the act. even though you’re married… he can’t help it, his sweet, darling wife so innocently touchy… blinking back to reality, and he’s back in his office, his long fingers rather than your smaller ones straightening his glasses. and at eight forty, a reinvigorated corporate worker on the seventeenth floor in a cluttered office types a little faster; after all, he has a cute wife waiting at home, doesn’t he?

his lanyard hanging from his neck, groaning as soobin finally shuts his laptop, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion. ten sixteen, and he’s finally free for the week after over five hours of overtime. leave it to corporate to give overtime on a friday before the weekend, sliding his files and laptop into his briefcase before walking towards the elevator, past sparse rows of equally fatigued workers, the scent of coffee in the stale office air. cold air conditioning in the elevator as soobin heads down, typing on one hand a quick, ‘on my way home’ before exiting. night streets filled with corporate workers, a shared collective sigh of relief as they walk towards the subway. soobin, in his white button up tucked into long, black dress pants, a bit of alterations on them to accommodate his long legs, black tie and lanyard hanging from his neck, his dark hair slightly above the waiting crowd.

quietly, soobin’s pace quickening as he hurries down the building hall, fumbling for his keys. shit, he thinks, i’m so late. as if the day couldn’t have lasted any longer, his subway was stopped due to issues further up on the track, resulting in his subsequent attempts to flag down a cab… which was more difficult than intended due to unfortunate numbers of drunkards stumbling up to every cab for a ride home, and he didn’t really have the heart to tell them off. weary and tired from the long day, traffic on flooding the streets of seoul from late night friday partying and the subway chain issue… half past twelve. swearing softly, soobin unlocks the door to your shared apartment, quietly closing it behind him as he gazes over his shoulder. dark apartment, a subtle sweet scent from the kitchen. navigating through the darkness until his hand finds the light switch, an emptied dining table and washed dishes. “fuck…” soobin groans, running a hand through his hair, just knowing how you must’ve sadly put away dinner, the containers lining the fridge shelves confirming his suspicion. a growing sense of regret aching in his chest, slipping off his shoes and depositing his briefcase on the table before quietly walking towards the living room.

soft streetlights casting through the window, illuminating your sleeping form beneath a blanket, curled up on the sofa. your cheek resting against a pillow, arms wrapped around it in a tight embrace, just like you do to him every night… he’s really late, isn’t he? quietly as to not wake you up, soobin’s hands feel for the comforter falling off your form, slightly lifting up the edge to reposition it over you, a small, affectionate smile forming on his tired features as you shift sleepily… and send blood straight to his crotch. curling up tighter around the pillow, unconsciously lifting hem of his large dress shirt draped over your smaller figure, an average fit on him an oversized one on you. your small wrists and hands lost in the sleeves of his shirt, just a hint of your fingers peeking through the starched cotton. moonlight flitting through the window, casting a shine on the golden ring matching his on your finger. his sweet, darling wife, so small in his dress shirt… and a shadow covering your pretty legs has him unconsciously lifting the blanket further. heat rushes across his skin as he gazes upon your lovely legs, clad in a pair of thigh highs, as if you’d waited for him to come home to surprise him, but fell asleep. softly breathing, your chest rising and falling gently, so preciously unaware of your husband’s darkening thoughts. to run his hands over your perfect legs, trail kisses up your beautiful thighs, hear your unconscious whimpers of arousal as his hot breath warms your delicately wet panties wake his darling wife between her legs, so sweetly shy and unaware. to gently tug aside your undergarments, pretty folds glistening with a subconscious lewd, need for him, your saccharine cries as his fingers slide up your pussy… cock stiffening in his pants at such salacious thoughts toward you.

“soo…bin?” you soft mumble, sleepily rubbing your eyes with hands clad in his shirt sleeve, yawning tiredly, only for soobin’s arms to slide under your form, scooping you up without a moments hesitation. “hmm—mmph!” in an instant, his plush lips press to yours with an insatiable kiss, grip tightening around your smaller body. soft, confused gasps escaping your lips when he finally comes up for air, placing you down on the sheets, delicate as porcelain. your chest heaving with anticipation, yearning, breathless and flushed from the unexpected kiss, awoken by desire, lips parted as shy gasps escape. “sweetheart…” soobin sighs, appreciatively gazing upon your body, drunk on desire as his hands slide up your thighs, a growing heat in his crotch as he feels the transition between fabric and skin, so soft and tender, “let your husband take care of you?” his adoring gaze, roaming the curves of your smaller body, clad in his shirt, thighs clenched together in a delectable sight, chest rising and falling in rapid succession as his hands slide further between your legs, gently smoothing over your sensitive inner thigh, catching the air in your lungs. “mmm– y-yes!” you whimper, shyly covering your face to hide the flush crossing your cheeks, his long fingers appreciatively kneading the plus flesh, so dangerously close to your heat. “pretty wife, don’t hide anything from me,” soobin murmurs, gently catching both wrists in a single hand, firm grip tugging them away from hiding your face as he pins your hands down above your head, loving kiss pressed to your forehead, “don’t be shy, love.”

“s-soobin—nngh!” sweet, sugary whimpers escape your lips as soobin’s fingers press to your wet panties, tentatively rubbing a soft circle, bringing a lovesick smile to his lips. “you’re so far for me, doll,” he sighs, gently tugging at the wet fabric as he rubs the material between his fingers, dampening the pads of his fingers, “were you waiting for me? all dressed up for me?” “a-all for you!” a breath catches in your throat, the sensation of your panties sliding down your legs, cold air meeting your dripping, warm pussy. “be a good girl and don’t hide from me?” soobin murmurs, sitting beside you on the bed before gently lifting your body into his arms, so small against his large frame, long fingers spreading apart your legs as you whine and hide your face in his neck, unable to look at the wet mess of your cute cunt. one hand stroking your hair before resting on your waist, the other gently rubbing your pussy in a subtle line, before pushing past your folds in a soft squish of your essence coating his fingers. “hnng– t-too many!” you cry, clinging to his neck and shoulders as your arms wrap around his frame, eyes squeezing shut as two fingers prod past your entrance, tentatively feeling the soft, sensitive walls of your pussy, instantly tightly clenching down as his cold fingers penetrate. “have to prepare you, love,” soobin sighs, planting a kiss to the top of your head as you squirm in his lap, feeling his fingers slide further into your cunt, almost knuckle deep before he stops, “ready for me to move?” “m-mmhm,” you shakily mumble, a string of whimpers elicited as his fingers pump in and out of your tight cunt, a soft squelch as your folds cling to his fingers messily, coated in your arousal. his clothed, stiff cock pressing up against your leg, firm grip on your waist, fingers pleasuring your pussy, curling them slightly upon reaching your sweet spot, tears immediately springing to your eyes as you cling tighter, his name falling from your lips in a lewd moan of arousal.

“sweetheart, love you so much,” soobin sighs, so aroused by your pretty voice and saccharine, sweet responses, sugary submission to him as delicious cries of pleasure unfold, coming undone in his lap by his fingers, “let go for me?” and as the words leave his lips, his thumb presses on your sensitive clot, dragging over it in a teasing rub, fingers curling in your pussy, sending a pleasuring rush of heat straight to your core, instantly undoing the knot of pressure as your orgasm washes over, a tidal wave of tension released. trembling with pleasure, tearily sobbing into his shirt as your clothed hands tightly hold on to your husband, barely able to ground yourself as your pretty folds spill cum on his fingers, wet and glistening in moonlight as his fingers slide out of your clenching pussy, so delicately soft and tender. “so good for me, my wife,” soobin murmurs, wet fingers catching your jaw and tilting your chin up to face him, teary and flushed as his lips land on yours, hungrily swallowing your whimpers of love, moving tenderly yet forcefully with an innate desire for you. cum covered fingers clasping your face, your smaller frame nestled in his lap, your essence wetting his shirt beneath the cute swell of your ass, oh, he loves how ripe your body is, so sweet and purely tainted by him, your husband.

“spread your legs for me, doll?” soobin murmurs, gently placing your vulnerable body back on the sheets, his large frame overshadowing yours, hand taking yours as he rubs the ring on your finger, adoringly gazing upon your teary face. shyly, encouraged by his loving smile, your legs part, revealing your drenched core once more. “so good,” eyes roaming your body, his fingers coming to his shirt as he quickly undoes the buttons deftly. at the sight of him removing his shirt, your fingers hesitantly come to the buttons of yours, before soobin’s hands take yours, long fingers wrapping around yours, “keep it on for me, sweetheart?” “o-okay.” nodding, a soft smile adorns his lips as his shirt falls aside, hard cock straining against his pants, so big and girthy. “shh, i’ll take care of you, don’t worry,” soobin’s lowering voice reassuring, and yet still, a hiccup of nervousness escapes as he unzips his pants, pulling down his boxers. “hold on to my hand, promise you can do it,” his big hand lacing with your fingers, your palm so small in his as he presses a snowfall of light kisses to you face, your eyes clenched shut as the tip of his cock pushes past your sensitive folds. “nngh– s-soobin, t-too big!” you sob, pussy clenching down in his penetrating cock, a burning stretch overwhelming as your fingers squeeze his hand tightly, gripping the sheets with your other, small body squirming beneath him as his pushes in. “doing so good, sweetheart, so, so good for me,” soobin pants, straining with resisting the urge to sheathe his cock in your pretty folds in a single stroke, his nose brushing against your forehead, voice in your ear as he breathes words of loving affirmation, until his cock fills up your little pussy, all the way to the cervix.

“love,” soobin murmurs, “taking me so well, doll.” your soft whimpers, breaths quickening at the full feeling, pleasuring warmth radiating from your abdomen, cunt clenching down on his cock tighter when his hand guides yours to your tummy, pressing down gently. “mmmh— f-feels– full!” tears of pleasure spilling from your eyes, sweet, rapid gasps as his hand, so large, covers yours, pushing in and feeling his hard cock sheathed so deep inside you, his pretty wife, so small and full of him. pressure tightening in your core, tearfully mumbling a quiet sob of desire. as if love radiates from his skin, soobin’s thrusts filling you up, big cock kissing your cervix as his veiny shaft drags against your sensitive walls, eliciting a stream of whimpering cries. “s-soobin! f-feels g-good–! nngh–” skin against skin, a soft squelch as his cock, coated in your essence, pushes past your stretching folds, barely able to fit his massive length into your tight cunt. and joe pleasuring it is for him, to watch his beloved, sweet wife fall apart with overwhelming lewd pleasure on his big, lengthy dick, so small and somehow able to take him all the way, feeling your small hand under his as his cock twitches in your core, sensitive walls clenching down as he thrusts. and how much he loves it, a surge of immeasurable desire casting a spell on his mind, his darling wife, he can have this every day, forever his, until eternity. sweet love addictive, saccharine pleading cries as your orgasm approaches, and he’s never felt more in love. “s-soobin, so c-close–!” you sob, tears so lovely, staining your flushed cheeks as his lips meet yours in a lustful, love laced kiss, tongues tangling in a saliva covered romance, lost in euphoric pleasure of each other. and his hips pushing int yours, angling deeper before feeling your tight cunt clench, orgasm crashing down as you wail his name, before another kiss catches your cry, his cock twitching before spilling his cum into your cervix. “mmph– love y-you so much, my wife,” soobin gasps, a string of saliva connecting your lips before he dives in once more, so addicted to your taste and sensation, his dick pumping his seed into your small pussy. “nngh, so full!” lovingly caressing your soft tummy, thinking of how deep his seed has filled up his darling, before gazing upon the cum dripping from your pussy before he’s even pulled out… so full of his love and seed that you can’t even take it anymore~?

and such a lovely sight before him, you, his wife, splayed out in a dazed manner, saliva coating and dripping from your parted, swollen lips, body so small beneath him, subconsciously touching the visible bulge in your tummy, full of his cum and cock, seed dripping from your swollen folds around his cock, a white ring forming at the base of his shaft… and still clad in his shirt, so large and loose on your frame, thighs prettily decorated in thigh highs, oh, how he’d love to stain those with his seed. and as he pulls out, cum spills from your pussy as you tremble in shy pleasure, lost in a post orgasm haze. tentatively reaching out, soobin’s large hand takes yours, warm and soft, before pressing down into your tummy. to his lustful desire, seed spills from your folds, a deliciously inviting sight. and desire takes over, an urge to push his seed back inside your pussy, and fuck it deeper, n deeper, until it stays, when you’re so full of his cum, so belonging to him.angel,” soobin sighs, leaning over your vulnerable form once more, gently undoing the buttons of the front, revealing your soft breasts. “need you again,” he murmurs, his hand coming to cup your pretty, plush tits. so dazed and incoherent on his cock, all you know is that his love is addictive, nodding in a gaze of desire. and even if you cannot take another load, he’ll make sure you do, his hands softly kneading your breasts, lips nearing the soft plush. “mmmph–!” eliciting sweet whimpers, on the verge of overstimulation, as his length pushes back into your pussy, his lips landing on your delicate nipple, sucking on the bud as you squirm beneath him in unfamiliar pleasure. “let me love you more, my wife?”

sun flitting down, a halo illuminating upon soobin’s pale chest, softly rising and falling with sleeping breaths, his arms wrapped around yours in a tight hold… and his cock sheathed deep inside your folds, sticky cum coating your thighs. morning light revealing a mess of splotchy, red-purple hickeys across your plush breasts, blooming bruises on your waist from his tight hold last night. an aching soreness throbbing from your legs, shifting with a whimper of pain. “…nnngh– hmm?” soobin sleepily murmurs, stirring at your movement. “soobin… can’t move,” you mumble, a blush crossing your cheeks, too shy to mention his cockwarming state. “ ‘m too tired, stay with me,” and with that, his hold tighens, tucking your face back into his chest as he clings tighter, loving aura radiating from his skin as he presses a lazy kiss to your head. “want to clean up,” you begin, only for soobin to blink at you, his gaze blurry before slowly leaning down and planting gentle kisses on your face. “too warm here, honey, five more minutes?”

and by an hour later, soobin finally stirs again, feeling you whimper with aches, sliding off his soft cock with a struggle. “wait for me, love,” soobin mumbles sleepily, only for you to pause at the side of the bed. “soobin?” you whisper nervously, catching his attention. “what’s wrong, honey?” “can’t walk. f-feels too sore.” crawling over to his side of the bed, wincing with every move, clinging to his arm, “carry me?” with outstretched arms, you climb into his hold, before he scoops you up, so small and delicate in his arms… and maybe a bit too reminiscent of last night for him. having his darling wife’s sweet, delicate body fit in his arms, so small and reliant on him… brings back the remnants of desire as he gazes upon your skin, marked up chest with bites of love, your swollen pussy just visible, and your innocent, loving eyes upon him, face still flushed with the tears spilled last night. and as he walks into the bathroom, his cock stiffens with lustful need. “honey?” soobin whispers into your hair, hold tightening, his hand finding yours, feeling the smooth golden band wrapped around your finger, “let me make love to you?”

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hehe ik it’s been a while since i posted a full fic, hope u enjoyed n lmk what u think~~!

see i didn’t do breeding kink this time hehe

#sooby <3 #txt smut #txt hard thoughts #txt hard hours #soobin smut #txt x reader #soobin x reader #txt x you #soobin x you #txt imagines #txt scenarios #soobin suggestive #mille.inbox #mille.anon #🩰 anon

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blkdaddie · 19 days

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Empregnas University: Code Gold

I shifted in my seat as Professor Roca droned on. As a second-year law student class, it's important to have good notes but my concentration is shot today. The baby has been sitting low in my pelvis for a week with no signs of labor. At least I can breathe a bit better but a 10 lb baby plus sitting for hours is murder on my back. I feel the now familiar urge to pee, and ease my heft to my feet. Prof. Roca doesn’t miss a beat of his lecture – with almost 40% of our student body pregnant at any time they’re pretty easygoing about bathroom trips during class. I take a few shuffling steps, knowing my waddle has become exaggerated with this bowling ball of a kid between my hips, when I feel a sudden wetness. I try to waddle faster mortified that I’ve wet myself, when a contraction seizes me and I double over with a grunt. “Holy shit, Derek’s finally having his kid!”. If I weren’t in so much pain I would laugh; I realize the wetness is at my rear – my waters have broken.

Prof. Roca finally pauses his speech on the intersection of artificial intelligence and ethics, turning his attention to me with a sigh. “I really thought we’d get through one semester without a labor starting in class. Damn nuisance, these kids.” I don’t know if he’s referring to me or the baby, but I’m too panicked to care. This baby feels like a boulder between my hips and I sink to my knees aided by a classmate, Anthony. I distractedly notice he has a slight belly, and he’s clearly freaking out, probably imagining his own labor. I’m too breathless to reassure him.

Prof. Roca crosses to an old-school landline phone on the wall and I understand why it’s still there when he picks up the receiver. “Code Gold, Memorial Hall Room 242. And send janitorial, he’s leaking all over the place.”

The pressure is immense. I feel like I’m floating outside of my body as I watch my belly warp from the force of my muscles all moving the baby down. “Derrick, just sit tight for a minute, health center is sending someone with a wheelchair. Now, where were we…” Professor prepares to continue his lesson but I can’t bite back the pained cry that escapes my lips. I have an overwhelming need to push, and start scrambling for the waistband of my jeans. “Um, professor, I don’t think he has a minute!” Anthony awkwardly kneels beside me and I feel cool air against my ass as I push my pants lower. A couple of classmates who have delivered before rush to my side, but most sit there gawking. We all know anal birth is normal and natural but seeing it live and in person is some wild shit. James, who I know had twins last year, probes to check my dilation, and Andre, who has a toddler, starts talking to me softly. “Bro, you gotta focus. Quit screaming and breathe. Da fuck is wrong with you, coming to class like this?” He shakes his head but looks resolved when James signals something from over my shoulder. “Next contraction, fuckin’ push.” My belly hangs low and heavy as I sit back on my haunches, looking for any relief, but it’s futile. I’m terrified but my body takes over. One push. Then another. Unbearable burning. On the third push the baby’s head is out and I can feel it wiggling. The sensation is surreal but I don’t have time to ponder. I bear down again and the baby slides out into James’ hands. I feel a sudden physical emptiness but my heart is bursting when I hear a mewling, then a cry. My classmates help me lie back; I’m shivering as I come down from the adrenaline high, but my grasp on my wet squawking baby is confident and secure. Professor Roca gives up, slamming his laptop shut. “Forget it. Class dismissed. See you on Thursday.”

#mpreg story #pregnant man #mpreg #mpreg kink #mpregnancy #mpreg birth #mpreg belly #ai art #ball belly #mpreg labor #public birth #birth kink

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mint-yooxgi · 1 year

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Written in the Stars - Yandere!Idol!Yeosang X Tall!Chubby!Reader

Soft Yandere AU & Idol AU

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Slight Humor, Slow Burn

Pairing: Yeosang X Reader (ft. platonic Ateez ensemble)

Words: 11,875

Warnings: Slow burn. This story is going to be very self indulgent on my part, so please bear with the first few chapters. Jongho is an over excited fanboy. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: So, I decided to just say 'fuck it' and post it anyways! I got too excited and just had to share, so I really hope you all enjoy what I have planned. I have SO much already for this series, and like I said in the warning, it's definitely going to be quite self-indulgent on my part but it IS based off my own dream, so... anyways, as always feedback is greatly appreciated. Enjoy~

Also, gentle reminder that I don’t do tag lists.

Mini Masterlist

A low exhale escapes you through your nose as you stand in line waiting to board the plane. Absentmindedly, your thumb brushes over the front of your passport, your boarding pass tucked neatly inside.

Shifting your weight onto your opposite foot, you adjust the straps of your backpack slung over your shoulders. Despite your best efforts to pack light, the heaviness weighs you down, feeling the corner of your laptop harshly digging into your shoulder blade. Perhaps you should have packed a few more of your books into your checked luggage after all.

It’s not every day that you get to move to South Korea for approximately a year or more, depending on how well writing your next book goes. The decision had been meticulously planned out, seeing as your publisher has arranged a fairly large book signing in the heart of Seoul a few weeks from now.

To say you were pleasantly surprised to learn how well your books are doing in South Korea is an understatement. You were more than happy to agree to it, especially when you have also been personally invited to perform a new piece of writing at one of the many award shows this season. It seems the organizers really appreciate your way with words, and want you to compose a short poem of sorts to encompass the emotions and influence different types of art has around the world.

It seems as if you’ve become a somewhat popular international author within the country, and you are more than happy to attend any and all events they ask you to. Subsequently, the offers were too good to refuse, and you’ve always wanted to move to Seoul for a few years. At least now you have a good reason to stay.

It has taken you years to get to where you are now, but being a well established international author has truly been everything you could have ever asked for. Writing has always been your passion, and you’re just glad that you can share it with the world. With a little extra on the side, of course.

Slowly, the line begins to move in front of you, and you blink to regain your focus. It looks as if they’re finally boarding for zone two, and you honestly just can’t wait to get settled in your seat and sleep. You’re hoping to at least catch a few hours before you attempt to work on a bit of your next book. The idea you’ve been mapping out is a big one, and you’re hoping the words flow just as easily for this one as all of the previous novels you’ve written.

The length of the flight has yet to be determined if it’s your enemy or ally.

Maybe you’ll just watch a few movies instead…

As more and more people advance, you can feel those familiar jitters of excitement coursing through your veins. Every time you visit another place, but especially when it relates to your writing, you cannot hide your eagerness. The adventures you can have are endless, and you honestly cannot wait to see a few of your friends again. Some, you’ll even be meeting for the first time. Well, if their schedules allow.

When you had arrived at the airport, getting through security after checking in had been a little heinous.

First of all, you had a few too many bags, but since you’ll be moving to a completely new country, you need almost all of your things to take with you. Plus, you don’t want your new home to be too empty. You’re just grateful your mother will be sending along a few care packages with some of your bulkier items, like your favourite blankets and a few of your trinkets once you’ve gotten settled in.

Then, came security.

There seemed to be a rumour floating around that some celebrity or something was supposed to be on this same exact flight. A few overheard hushed whispers, and you determined the celebrities to be some Korean pop group. Though, you doubt that’s the case. Despite not really paying attention to the other passengers, you haven’t exactly seen any idols around.

Needless to say, security took longer with all the fans trying to sneak through.

At least you still made it to the gate with plenty of time to spare. You even had some free moments to browse the airport bookstore, noticing a small display of your own books near the front table. The way the workers had stacked your newest release in a mini-pyramid of sorts still makes you smile. The fact that you signed a few of the copies had made the workers’ day, taking a few photos with one of the girls who happened to be a big fan of your work.

Looking back on it now, you cannot help but to grin to yourself as you begin to make your way onto the plane. The worker who scanned your ticket seemed to look on you in awe, brief understanding lighting up their eyes after handing you your passport back. They probably recognized your name, if anything. The fact that you nodded back to them in acknowledgment seemingly made their day.

Truly, this is a dream come true.

Stepping onto the plane, you’re quick to find your seat. You made sure to pick the window of the very last row in premium, as you’ve always enjoyed watching the scenery as you fly. Take off and landings are your favourite parts. Plus, with no one behind you, you can recline without worry or fear that you’re infringing on someone’s personal space.

Luckily, it doesn’t appear that your seat partner has arrived yet, and for that, you’re grateful. Honestly, you hope no one actually sits beside you just so you can have a bit more space to yourself. Plus, it’ll make you more comfortable if you decide to actually get some writing done on the plane.

You’ve always had a sense of paranoia about writing around strangers, given how often people like to snoop. The last thing you want is to be writing some steamy scene, or something completely gruesome, and offend the person you’re sitting beside. Though, you mainly only get that feeling when writing on your laptop.

Sliding your overstuffed bag beneath the seat in front of you, you settle into your own. Your purse gets shoved to the side beside your feet as you unceremoniously kick your backpack as far beneath the seat as it will go.

The joys of premium economy: much needed leg room, and better seating. Though, you can just hear your publisher’s voice in the back of your head, chastising you for not buying business class.

You huff lightly to yourself as you click your seatbelt on. Like hell you’re going to pay something ridiculous, like four grand, in order to have your own private podlike seat. That’s way too much for a one way ticket, and besides, premium is just fine. You’ve been lucky enough to fly it before, anyways.

Settling fully into your seat, you pull out your phone. Unlocking the device, you shoot a quick text to your family letting them know that you’ve just boarded the plane and are waiting for take off.

Of course, they reply quickly, telling you to have a safe flight and that they’ll miss you greatly. Most of all, though, to have fun on your new adventures.

A soft smile paints your features as you tell them that you’ll message them once you land, and if there’s time, phone once you make it to your new apartment. As soon as you see their response in confirmation, you’re turning your phone on airplane mode and grabbing your headphones out of your purse.

Movement from your left catches your attention, and you see a few people settling into the seats near you. You take a moment to assess your new seat buddy before turning back to your phone, plugging in your earbuds without another thought.

Looks like you’ll be sitting next to a guy for the entire flight. Not that you mind, but the last guy you sat beside on a long flight like this tried to talk your ear off about politics and how ‘kids these days don’t have the same respect they used to.’

The worst part? The man didn’t look that much older than you.

Oh well, it could have been worse. It could have also been like that one time you sat beside a lady who told you everything wrong with your first book, and what she would have done to fix it and make it better.

Holding your earbuds in one hand, you scroll through your playlist, searching for a song you want to listen to before putting them in.

From beside you, you can hear some hushed whispering in Korean, each voice distinctly male. The words ‘writer’ and ‘newest book’ catch your attention in-between the bustle of the other passengers boarding the plane, and you nearly let out a sigh.

Just as you go to place your buds in your ears, you hear a gentle voice pull you out of your thoughts.

“Excuse me?” The words are low, cautious, as if he’s unsure of himself. Surprisingly, they’re in English.

Lifting your head, you shift your gaze to the side. The way your eyes blink in mild surprise, caught immediately off guard by who you see sitting beside you, is apparent. Ever so slightly, your breath hitches in your throat.

“Are you…” he trails off, brow furrowing as if he’s searching for the right word in English.

Out of the corner of your vision, you see a face peering out across the aisle from the row in front of you. His hands grip the seat firmly as he angles his body towards both you and the male beside you. Though, from the way his face keeps being blocked by more passengers boarding the plane, what he attempts to whisper to his friend goes unnoticed. At least, by the unsuspecting male. However, at the way you can hear the word ‘author’ lightly cut through the crowd, you grin softly.

“It’s alright, I can speak Korean.” You reply casually.

The way you see the male visibly freeze in his spot, body seemingly relaxing immediately after has you chuckling slightly.

“You do?” The surprise is clear on his features, but he’s quick to hide it in the next second.

“Not very well, but sufficiently enough.” You say. “My Japanese is better.”

You can see the way his brow twitches slightly in acknowledgement, that same look of surprise shining within his gaze.

“Anyways, my friend would like to know if you’re actually the author that wrote this book.” He says, lifting the object slightly in his hand.

An object of which you didn’t even notice before, too wrapped up in your own little world.

Sparing a glance at the book, a soft smile graces your features. For there, resting in his hands, resides a copy of your latest novel from the airport bookstore.

“I am.” You confirm with a small nod.

The male turns back to his left, seemingly having a silent conversation with his friend across the aisle. From his body language alone, you can tell that your seat buddy is slightly exasperated. Especially when his friend looks about ready to lunge across the aisle after the one sitting beside you asks him very lowly if he has to.

The announcement for final boarding call is heard over the speakers, the cabin crew now moving to secure the plane for take off.

You can only quirk a brow in amusement as your seat buddy heaves a tremendous sigh before turning back to face you.

That’s when you notice two more heads popping up over the seats in the middle section, one row in front of you. One sports bright, flaming red locks, while the other has a head full of black hair. They not so subtly peer over the back of their seats, looking in your direction as the one sitting right next to the aisle with bleached locks still has his eyes locked on you.

“I’m so sorry to do this to you; you probably get this a lot,” he sighs, and you can literally feel the death glare the male directly across the aisle from him is sending his way. “But do you think you could sign this for him?”

The plane begins to move. Briefly, you hear a flight attendant tell the three males in the row in front of you that they need to sit properly in order to prepare for take off.

Your brow quirks. “I thought I already did.”

This causes the male across the aisle to practically fall out of his seat as he reaches across to tear the book out of your seat buddy’s hands. You notice that he practically shreds through the front page in order to flip through to where your signature practically shines back up at him.

You notice a vibrant red beginning to creep up his neck as you chuckle lightly.

“I can still add a personalize message, if you’d like?” You lean forward slightly, looking directly past the male sitting beside you.

The way you visibly see the male perk up, practically throwing the book back at the one sitting beside you has a large grin pulling at your features. You can feel your own face heating from this interaction, heart pounding in your chest.

“Flight crew, prepare for take off.” The captains voice is heard over the intercom, and you realize you missed the entire safety demonstration. Not that you haven’t seen it all before.

“That would be great,” the male sitting beside you says, seeing as the other one seems too excited to speak for the moment. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” you smile, reaching down to grab a pen from your bag.

“Excuse me, Miss,” the soft voice of a flight attendant draws your attention to the aisle beside you. “Please remain in an upright position until the plane has left the tarmac.”

“Right, sorry,” you smile sheepishly, a nod to your head.

Turning back to the males beside you once the flight attendant walks away, you pat the cover lightly.

“I’ll sign this as soon as we’re in the air, okay?”Your voice is sweet, holding the book lightly in your lap.

“Thanks again,” the male beside you nods.

“Of course,” you repeat. “It’s not everyday an idol from one of your favourite groups asks you to sign something for them.”

Four heads whip in your direction: the male sitting beside you, the two directly across the aisle from you, and the one who had been turning around to face you one row up. The surprise is clear on their features, and you’d bet anything that the two you saw peeking over their seats earlier would be doing the exact same thing once again if they could.

“You know who we are?” The one from directly across the aisle sounds completely awestruck. “You know who I am?”

“Yes, I do,” you nod gently in his direction, a small grin tugging at your lips. “Choi Jongho from Ateez.”

You swear that this man is about to faint from how red his face goes.

“Right now, though, you’re all just some guys on a plane,” you say. “And we all just so happen to be heading to the same destination.”

A slight whine from the row in front of them draws your attention.

“Joong, tell Yunho to stop kicking the back of my seat!” With the familiar intonation, you can just tell that it’s Wooyoung.

“Well, then stop hopping around.” Said male turns briefly towards his opposite side before turning back to continue observing this interaction between you and the other members.

You huff out a laugh, feeling as the plane begins to accelerate for take off. A moment later, and that familiar sense of weightlessness takes over, signifying you’ve left the ground.

“So, you’re a fan, then.” A statement, rather than a question comes from the man sitting beside you.

“For my part,” you hum, a tender smile pulling at your lips. “I saw you guys in concert a few years ago when you came to my city. You’re all incredible performers.”

You notice all four of them that are still looking at you become a little bashful at your words. Mutters of gratitude escape their lips as they bow their heads in your direction, and you are once again reminded of just how humble this group is.

“Then, you know who all of us are.” Again, another statement leaves the male beside you as he observes you with curious eyes.

“I do indeed know who you are, Kang Yeosang of Ateez.” You repeat your little phrase from earlier. A moment later, you shrug. “It’s like I said, though, right now you’re just some guy.”

A ding sounds, indicating the seatbelt sign going off once you’ve reached altitude. As soon as you hear it, realization flashes across your features, and you lean forward to grab a pen out of your bag.

“So, did you want me to address this to you, or is there a specific nickname you’d like me to use?”You direct your question towards the youngest member sitting across the aisle from you.

“Uh…” Jongho blinks, shifting forward slightly as he undoes his seatbelt. “Nickname?”

“Yeah,” you confirm. “Sometimes people like me signing a term of endearment from one of my books in front of their name, or even instead of their name. I can do that, or something else. Just nothing weird, like ‘Daddy’, or anything like that.”

A head pops up over the seat in front of you. “Someone’s asked you to sign a book for them addressed to ‘Daddy’?”

“Oh, hello, Song Mingi from Ateez.” You blink in mild surprise.

“Hello.” A subtle nod and an immediate look of meekness crosses his features. Almost as if he couldn’t help but pop up and join in on this conversation with you.

“I thought we were all just some guys to you right now?” Yunho quirks a brow at you from down the row.

“Listen, this is the only way I know how to-“ you search for the right word, looking up at the ceiling of the cabin all the while. A slight tilt of your head in realization is the only sign they get that you’ve thought of the word, “dispel my excitement for the moment. I’m pretty sure my heart is about to burst from how furiously it’s racing right now.”

You see Seonghwa poke his head around the edge of his seat to look at you. Only, you see him flinch in the next second, slowly shifting so he’s now peering over the top of his seat just as Mingi does.

Looks like Hongjoong didn’t like the fact that his sight was being blocked.

“I think the feeling is mutual,” at the way you see Yeosang motion towards Jongho with his head, you crack a grin.

“So,” you catch the last dregs of the glare Jongho sends Yeosang’s way before the youngest is meeting your gaze once more. “Nickname?”

Knowing grins tug at a few of the male’s faces around you, Yunho nudging Jongho teasingly in his side.

Again, the youngest shoots a pointed look at the male on his opposite side before turning to look at you. Red begins to creep up his neck as he averts his gaze to the floor before continuously flicking it up to meet your own.

“I’ve always liked ‘Darling’,” he admits, and you notice how Yunho nudges him teasingly while more of the guys shoot him knowing grins.

This time, it’s your turn for your cheeks to heat as you hum. “How fitting.”

Flipping open to the page with your signature, you twirl the pen in your fingers once. A moment later, and you’re scribbling out a message.

To My Darling Jongho,

The stars look up to you. Keep shining!

Signing it off with a ‘Your Fan’, you’re quick to add your name. However, before you hand it back to him, you add a little note at the bottom.

P.S. You have a lovely voice.

Adding a small smiley face, you’re quick to cap your pen and shut the front cover.

The moment you hand the book to Yeosang to pass back to Jongho, you notice a few of the other members sliding back into their seats. The youngest eagerly snatches the book back from the elder, opening to the page with your signature on it without a second of hesitation. The way you see him visibly shake in excitement, a large smile stretching onto his features warms your heart.

There’s a part of you that really wants to ask him about his favourite characters, and what he’s thought about your books, but you hold off for now. You wouldn’t exactly start a conversation with him otherwise, and you don’t want to bother him too much. Besides, he seems far too content to pull out the Korean translation of your previous book from his bag shortly afterwards.

Figuring he wants to read, you turn back to face the seat in front of you. Leaning down, you go to put your pen away, kicking your bag lightly back beneath the seat.

“Yeosang,” you hear a harsh whisper from your left. “Switch seats with me.”

A moment of silence where you notice the aforementioned male shoot a disinterested look towards Jongho.

“No.”

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” Jongho practically seethes, a frown tugging at his features. “I swear to god, Yeosang, I will split you in half like an apple.”

“Yes, I’m sure your favourite author would love to sit beside a man who just threatened to snap me like a twig.” Yeosang deadpans, reclining his seat back as far as it will go.

You’re about to make a comment on the situation, torn between jokingly saying that that’s actually kind of hot, or telling them that you don’t mind at all, when a voice draws your attention from in front of you.

“So,” it’s Seonghwa, peeking over the top of his seat once more. His hands grip the headrest, and you cannot see his mouth, but the way his wide eyes shine as they look towards you nearly makes you swoon. “Who’s your bias?”

You notice that this catches all of the member’s attention, and you suddenly sink back into the seat you’re in. That is, until you quirk your brow, a teasing grin causing the corners of your lips to twitch upwards.

“My ult?” You tilt your head. “I think I’m very explicit about it being Lee Taemin.”

You can visibly see the way his shoulders deflate at your words, and you briefly look around at all of the males that now seem to be peering at you from over their seats.

“No,” Seonghwa practically whines. “Of the group!”

“Which group?” The expression you wear is nothing short of amused as you see Seonghwa begin to pout before you.

If someone had told you that you’d be making the Park Seonghwa from Ateez pout because you wouldn’t tell him your bias from his group, you would have laughed in their face. Even more so when you notice Hongjoong staring at you with a mildly pointed look in your direction. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear that he’s almost daring you to say that it’s anyone else but him.

“Our group, of course!” He frowns, leaning the slightest bit forward to rest his chin on top of his hands as he watches you carefully.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice San lean into Wooyoung from a row ahead.

“Has she answered her bias yet?” The male not so subtly whispers to the younger.

“Shh, not yet.” Wooyoung hisses back. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

“Who’s your bias in Ateez?” Mingi is the one to ask you this time, and you shift your attention to him for the moment.

Again, your cheeks flare with heat.

“Now, isn’t that the million dollar question?” You breathe, letting out a chuckle as you grab your phone in your hand once more. “Nah, sorry boys. If you want that answer out of me, you at least have to buy me a drink first.”

“Is your bias your lockscreen?” Jongho asks, an eager gleam in his eyes as the males closest to you now divert their gazes to your phone held in your hand.

“My lockscreen definitely takes priority,” you grin knowingly, and you watch them all eagerly lean in to catch a glimpse of the photo. “Since I won’t have wifi for such a long time, I always change it to a list of things I should probably get done on the plane."

Clicking the side button reveals said list on your screen.

A collective sigh of defeat is heard from the males around you as you chuckle. Only, in the next moment, your brow furrows.

“Wait, how do you know I usually keep one of my biases as my lockscreen?” You turn towards Jongho.

“Lucky guess?” He shrugs, another blush creeping up his neck.

“He started screaming about it during one of your lives once someone translated your remark.” Yeosang casually states, shifting slightly in his seat to get more comfortable as he settles in for a nap.

You swear that were it not for the way another passenger walks by to use the restroom, Jongho would have lunged at the male sitting beside you.

Still, you cannot help the way your eyes shine in awe. “You watch my lives?”

Jongho avoids your gaze, fumbling over his words for the moment. His hands nervously toy with the pages of the book in his lap, and you nearly coo at how bashful he suddenly looks.

“When he can.” Yunho supplies for him with a soft smile. “Sometimes Hongjoong and I watch, too. It helps when Joong can translate some of the things you say.”

Your heart skips a beat in your chest at the implication, and you cannot keep the hopefulness out of your voice. “You guys have read my books, too?”

“Even if it weren’t for Jongho ranting and raving over your writing, our other friends are pretty persistent.” Hongjoong replies, a soft smile pulling at his features. “You’re very popular back home.”

“Yeah, Changbin told me that Felix recommended him this book, so he just had to tell me about it.” Wooyoung supplies.

“Members of Stray Kids have also read my novels?” You say, though with how lowly you whisper it, it’s more to yourself in awe.

“I know! I was surprised, since Bin will barely even look at books half the time,” Wooyoung laughs, eyes crinkling in joy.

“You’d be surprised by how many of us read your novels.” Yunho hums, settling back in his own seat for the moment.

“Wow,” you breathe. “Honestly, it’s something I always think about, but I still never expect it. The only idol I know for sure that reads my books is Mark Lee of NCT.”

“Oh, yeah, we didn’t hear the end of that for weeks,” San calls out over his chair, shooting a look towards Jongho.

“‘Why can’t we get personalized signed copies of her books?’” Wooyoung imitates the youngest, nearly getting shoved out of his chair in response.

“I’d send her a full on review along with our albums if she gave me a chance,” Hongjoong laughs, receiving a harsh kick from Jongho to the back of his seat.

“Remember the one time he said he’d serenade her?” Yunho supplies, a fond chuckle falling from his lips.

Jongho instantly wraps his one arm around Yunho’s throat, pulling the taller man into his side as the elder hunches over uncomfortably. “Want to die?”

You cannot help the way you laugh, eyes falling shut as you lean back in your seat. Your one hand rests over your chest as you catch your breath, blinking away your tears of joy shortly after. The scene is much too comical for you not to react, anyways.

The moment your vision clears, you notice Yeosang having turned to face you. He wears a somewhat neutral expression, but his eyes are soft, a hint of awe residing within.

You chalk it up to him just being tired.

“You really said you’d serenade me?” Your inquiry is tender, nothing but a sense of wonder pulling at your features as you lean forward to look his way.

Slowly, he releases the chokehold he has on Yunho, nodding lightly all the while.

“That’s honestly so sweet, oh my goodness,” your one hand comes up to cup the side of your face as you tilt your head to the side.

The way Jongho’s eyes begin to shine as he meets you gaze says it all.

A moment later, and your attention is being drawn to the male peering his head over his seat in front of you.

“You like anime, right?” Mingi has an eager look on his face, arms crossed over the back of his seat as he rests his chin on top of them.

“I do indeed!” You reply, an excited gleam sparking in your gaze.

“Uh-oh,” Hongjoong says. “This is going to take a while.”

“Shut up,” Mingi frowns, turning his suddenly harsh gaze towards Hongjoong for a moment before turning back to you with an eager grin. “Which one’s your favourite?”

“Definitely Jujutsu Kaisen, but Naruto will always hold a special place in my heart since I’ve loved it since childhood.” You reply. “Haikyuu will also forever be my comfort series.”

You see him nodding along to your every word.

“What about you?” You reply, blinking lightly up at him.

“I really love Demon Slayer,” he replies, a giddiness to his tone.

“Oh yeah, the animation for that series is beautiful,” you nod along to his words. “I also remember when Atiny’s went feral for your Rengoku hair. Now, that was a look.”

You swear the male nearly tumbles out of his seat as his lips part in awe. A subtle blush begins to tint his ears, as he smiles bashfully in your direction.

“Thank you,” his voice is soft. That is, until his sharp gaze is locking on the male sitting beside you. “Hey, Yeosang-“

Pointedly, the male turns away from you, pretending to be asleep.

“I don’t think any of us are going to get him to move any time soon,” Hongjoong chuckles. “Anyways, sorry for bothering you.”

“Not at all!” You shake your head, a kind smile tugging at your features. “Honestly, this has made my entire week.”

“Likewise,” Jongho breathes, and you turn your smile towards him.

“Oh, wait,” you lean forward, pulling out your backpack and riffling through it in the next minute. Once you have what you’re looking for in hand, your eyes are lighting up, pulling the item out of your bag quickly. “The translation isn’t due to drop for another month, but they sent me some early copies. I’d like you to have this one.”

Carefully, you reach over a somewhat asleep Yeosang to hand Jongho the book in your hands. You can see his own shaking as he grabs the novel from you, a look of complete awe on his features.

“Thank you,” he meets your gaze. “I’ve been waiting for this one to drop since you announced it. It’s why I bought the English version.”

“I do that, too, with a bunch of my manga. I think I have at least four copies of volume four of Jujutsu Kaisen just for the one panel alone.” You chuckle.

“Not the cover?” Mingi quirks a brow.

“Oh, god no.” Your face scrunches in distaste. “Kakashi two-point-oh is most definitely not a character I like. I’ll stick with the original, thank you very much.”

From beside you, you notice Yeosang’s shoulders start to shake with mild laughter.

“Anyways,” you chuckle. “That’s a topic for another day.”

The way you see Mingi visibly pout as he sinks back into his seat has the corner of your lips quirking upwards. A second later, and you’re turning your attention back to Jongho on your left.

“I hope you enjoy the book, it’s definitely darker than some of the other ones I’ve written.” You comment.

At this, you notice Hongjoong’s brow quirk. “Darker, you say?”

“Twisted, if you will.” You shrug a shoulder casually.

“Hey, Jongho, once you’re finished with that, let me borrow it.” Hongjoong turns to the aforementioned male who already seems to have begun reading your book.

Jongho’s eyes flash, protectively hugging the novel to his chest. “Get your own.”

The two males begin bickering over your book, and you notice how the other members have all settled back into their seats. You decide to get comfortable in your own, leaving the conversation at that for now as you put in your headphones. A moment later, and you’re putting on one of your softer playlists to help you fall asleep. It works, too, for in no time at all, you’re succumbing to the realm of dreams.

Of course, it doesn’t last too long, for the flight attendants come around offering drinks shortly after. The meals are served following that, and then finally, you’re able to sink back into the comfort of sleep once more.

A few hours later, you wake to more hushed whispers coming from your left. It sounds as if Jongho is attempting to convince Yeosang to switch seats with him once more, much to the elder’s annoyance.

“I said, ‘no’,” Yeosang grumbles, his arms crossed over his chest.

“But I want to ask her about her new novel,” Jongho whines.

“Ask her some other time,” Yeosang huffs out a breath. “She’s sleeping.”

Jongho leaves it at that, but when you crack open your eyes to assess the situation, you notice he’s already almost halfway through the book you’ve given him. A large pout rests on his features as he pointedly flips back to the page he had last been on, continuing to read without another word.

After about another hour where you fall in and out of sleep, you decide that you’re too restless for the moment to succumb to the land of dreams. Adjusting yourself in your seat, you make sure not to disturb the resting male beside you. Leaning forward, you shuffle a few things around as you grab a notebook and a pen from your bag.

Might as well get a little bit of writing done.

The lighting inside the plane is low, but you’ll make do. The last thing you want is to disturb the people around you, and besides, it’s not like you can’t see anything. It’s no different than all of those nights you used to spend when you were younger sitting in the dark staring at your laptop’s screen as you wrote until the first glimpses of the sun’s rays peeked through your windows.

Turning to a blank page, you let out a small sigh through your nose.

Now, where to begin?

Quirking a brow, you smirk to yourself, putting the pen to paper.

Before you know it, two hours have passed and you’ve written a fair amount for the opening of your new book. Sitting upright reveals just how stiff your neck has gotten, bringing a hand up to gently begin massaging at the muscles as you stretch it out lightly. A moment later, and a few satisfying pops can be heard as you crack it, and subsequently, your back.

The way you notice Yeosang spare a look at you out of the corner of his eyes has you smiling sheepishly. “Sorry.”

You begin to close your notebook before a final idea strikes you, scribbling the little note to yourself for later. Once done, you tuck it away, pulling out your laptop shortly after.

A brief silence settles over you as you place your laptop onto the little tray you’re using. That is, until a soft voice from beside you draws your attention.

“You have nice handwriting.”

Your entire body freezes, turning to blink at the male in shock.

“Do you always write everything out before typing it?” Yeosang meets your gaze, a mild curiosity lingering in his tone.

Slowly, you shake your head. “Not usually. I just prefer writing things out like this when I’m in public. I always feel like my screen is a giant ‘Look Here’ sign when I use my laptop. That, and you were sleeping. I didn’t want to disturb you with the light.”

“I thought I was ‘just some guy’ to you?” He quirks a brow, completely misinterpreting your words for the moment.

“You are.” You confirm. “I would extend the same curtesy towards anyone.”

“But not right now?” He quirks a brow, eyes briefly darting down to the way you open your laptop.

“You’re awake now, and I think I’ve earned myself a few episodes of Jujutsu Kaisen after actually getting some writing done.” You say. “Besides, my hand hurts from gripping the pen so tightly.”

“Oh?” The corner of his lips twitches upwards as he notices you stretching your writing hand out by curling and uncurling your fingers periodically.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice Jongho nearly at the end of your book. His body is angled towards you, gaze flitting above the top of the pages every so often to check if you’ll notice him or not. At the way you smile tenderly his way, he’s quick to hide his face behind the pages once more.

“It’s a bad habit I have,” you shrug, setting up your screen with the first episode. “It’s one of the reasons I prefer typing. That, and both spellcheck, and the fact that I can type faster than I can handwrite.”

“I see.” He hums.

You blink, a subtle heat rising to your cheeks. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”

“Not at all.” He smiles politely. “I asked, anyways. Think of it as the mere curiosities of a stranger.”

“Well then, stranger,” you grin slightly, a playful gleam to your eyes as you properly introduce yourself. “It’s nice to meet you.”

An amused grin tugs at the corner of his lips as he introduces himself to you, following along with your antics for the moment. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

“There,” you nod once, quite firmly at that, too, “Now we’re not strangers.”

“No,” he hums, “I suppose not.”

Turning back to your screen, you are more than content to leave the conversation at that. A moment later, and the familiar sight of the first episode of Jujutsu Kaisen pops up on your laptop, allowing yourself to connect your headphones before pressing play. You get about five minutes into the episode before you begin to feel eyes on you.

Shifting your gaze, you notice Yeosang glancing towards you, and then your screen every few seconds. Carefully, you shift your laptop in his direction so he can see the screen better, and you notice him stiffen slightly in his spot.

You chuckle lightly, silently offering him one of your earbuds.

You don’t even have to look at him to see the way he glances from that small item held in your hand, to your face and back a few times before accepting the offer wordlessly. A press of a few buttons and Korean subtitles appear at the bottom of the screen.

You can see the shock clear on his face as he places the bud in his ear.

“What?” You laugh. “Expecting English?”

He blinks. “Yeah, actually.”

“I think I mentioned my Japanese being better than my Korean,” you hum.

“Your Korean sounds fine to me.” He comments.

A warmth blooms on your cheeks as you divert your gaze to the screen.

“Thank you,” nothing more than a mumble escapes you.

“Why? Do you think you’re not speaking well?” He asks, the anime playing on in the background.

“I used to be friends with a girl who always harped on me for my pronunciation, so it made speaking all the more difficult for me.” You admit softly. “Which is really ironic, when she always complained about people correcting her when she was younger.”

“Harped?” His brow furrows. “How so?”

“She would always make fun of the way I would say stuff,” your nose scrunches in distaste as you recall the memories. “I would learn something new, and the first words out of her mouth would be something like, ‘you really think it’s pronounced like that? You sound like a Koreaboo.’”

His eyebrows raise significantly, “Koreaboo?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, turning your head to meet his gaze only to realize just how close he is to you due to the fact that you’re sharing headphones. A warmth blooms once more on your cheeks. “Ironic, since she wasn’t even Korean to begin with, yet she was correcting my pronunciation.”

“Was she a language teacher?” His brow furrows.

“Not even,” you sigh, shaking your head lightly.

“She sounds like a bitch,” he comments, shifting his gaze to your screen.

You spare a glance at him out of the corner of your eyes. “She was.”

“Well, I think your pronunciation is really good,” he says, somewhat nonchalantly.

You wish you could prevent the way your eyes light up. “Really?”

A soft smile graces his features. “Really.”

“Thank you.” Shyly, you avert your gaze back to your laptop, shifting slightly in your seat.

He smiles kindly at you in response, turning back to the show as well.

About two minutes go by before he’s breaking it again.

“So, how come you have Korean subtitles to a Japanese anime?” He inquires, a hint of curiosity leaking through in his voice.

“Well, back to the language conversation,” you begin, “I had always wanted to learn more than one, but every time I went to study, my mind just wouldn’t retain the information. Except for Japanese. So, originally, I wanted to learn Korean first, but it just wasn’t working out well for me. Another fact she harped on me for: my memory. Anyways, I realized I could remember things better in Japanese, so once I learned that, I learnt Korean from Japanese.”

Yeosang hums, clearly impressed. “I see.”

“It was easier to pick up phrases and stuff with Korean subtitles to my favourite shows, so I made the switch,” you go on to say, tapping the edge of your laptop with your finger lightly. “I still use English subtitles if my brain gets too tired, though.”

“Makes sense,” he nods. “Do you watch dramas?”

“On occasion,” your tone is light, a small hum to your words. “I’m really bad at finishing a series though. I tend to start one, and then not touch it for years before going back to it. I still think I have a few episodes of Goblin left. Which is really ironic considering I referenced the reaper in one of my first published series.”

“You did?” He sounds quite surprised, but curious, nonetheless.

“I did.” You confirm with a chuckle. “I make reference to a lot of things I like in my stories. Music, movies, shows, characters, you name it.”

“What’s the thing you reference the most?” He asks, resting his elbow on the arm of his seat in order to lean his head in his hand.

“Probably The Lord of the Rings,” you chuckle. “I love that series.”

“I don’t think I’ve properly seen it.” He admits.

“Really?” You look at him skeptically. “Forgetting that you’re just some guy for a moment, but you literally have a song called The Ring where you make reference to it in the final lines.”

The somewhat sheepish shrug he gives you makes you laugh.

“Alright, fair enough,” you grin. “If you ever get a chance, you should watch it. The extended editions, though. There’s no other way to properly watch those films in my opinion. You get so much more out of them that way.”

“Oh, really?” He hums, amusement dancing in his eyes as he quirks a brow.

“Literal cinematic masterpieces.” You continue. “There’s so many cool behind the scenes facts and tidbits I could tell you, but I don’t want to subject you to that right now.”

“Why not?” His question clearly catches you by surprise.

“I don’t know if you’d be interested,” you shrug, blinking in the next second. “I do also have the movies saved on my laptop, but again, I won’t subject you to that. They’re long as hell, especially if you’ve never seen them before.”

“Ah, so binging them all at once isn’t a good idea.” He nods in understanding.

“Oh, no, you could totally do that, but it’s like, thirteen hours or so.” You say. “Definitely worth it if you make a day out of it, though, Watching them back to back really immerses you in the story.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, then.” He smiles. “They’re based on books, aren’t they?”

The way your eyes instantly light up does not go unnoticed by him.

“They are!” You reply enthusiastically. “They’re honestly one of my favourite series both in film and on paper, but I wouldn’t go around recommending people the book series.”

“Why’s that?” He inquires, tilting his head slightly in curiosity.

“They’re dry as fuck,” you say, and you notice his eyebrows raising in amusement at your description. “Listen, they’re not for everybody. Even I usually take years to get through the first book when I read the series. It’s a very tedious journey, but if you enjoy fantasy, they’re a key staple to read. In any language. At least, in my opinion.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he smiles softly, and again, you can feel your whole body heating in embarrassment.

“Sorry, I tend to ramble about the things I really like.” You avert your gaze, fingers suddenly toying with one another in your lap.

“I don’t mind at all.” He’s quick to assure you, eyes crinkling gently in the corners.

A soft smile pulls at your lips as you keep your gaze fixed on your hands for the moment. You can still feel him looking at you for a few seconds longer before he diverts his gaze back to the screen.

The both of you sit in silence for a few minutes as the anime continues to play. By now, the second episode has started, and the corner of your lips quirks upwards as you watch the familiar interactions between the characters. You could probably recite both the original Japanese lines, and the English subtitles by now given how many times you’ve watched it.

A loud gasp from across the aisle draws your attention.

“Holy fuck!” It’s Jongho.

“What? What is it?” The somewhat panicked voice of Hongjoong reaches your ears as you see both him and Seonghwa leaning towards the youngest from the row ahead.

The younger male turns to you, his eyes wide and his lips parted in shock.

“You-“ he blinks, “I-“ he tightens his hold on the now completed book in his hands, “the twist!”

You grin. “I told you it was dark.”

“I just knew it. The way he was acting when he got back to the room was too suspicious.” Jongho mumbles, flipping through some of the pages to quickly reread certain lines. “It was there all along!”

“Some of the best advice I’ve ever gotten about writing is that plot twists shouldn’t catch you suddenly off guard. The best ones are hinted at throughout, and if the reader can pick up on them, you’re doing a good job of laying out the clues.” You chuckle fondly at how eager he listens to you. Even the others look on you in mild awe. “Granted, you don’t want it to be too obvious.”

“It definitely wasn’t,” Jongho shakes his head, as if to reassure you. “It was all paced perfectly.”

“Thank you,” a brilliant, albeit bashful smile takes over your features, and again, you feel Yeosang looking at you out of the corner of his eyes. “I’m glad to hear you liked it.”

“Liked it?” Jongho looks about ready to vibrate out of his seat from his excitement. “I loved it!”

Once more, you thank him lowly, that smile never leaving your features. A warmth blooms in your chest from his words, and the fact that you can see him immediately opening the book back to the first page to begin rereading it has a happiness unlike any other building within. The way Hongjoong starts to pester Jongho about letting him borrow the book has you wiggling your toes to expel some of your giddiness.

You’re just about to offer the leader of Ateez his own copy when a voice from your immediate left draws your attention.

“Who’s your favourite character?” Yeosang blinks once before turning his attention to you from the screen.

“Huh?” You blink back at him, clearly caught off guard by his inquiry. For a moment, you think he’s asking you about your favourite character from your new book.

“Of the show,” he jerks his chin in the direction of your laptop where you see episode two finishing up for the time being.

“Oh,” you tilt your head in acknowledgement, noticing a familiar male peering over the top of the seat in front of you once more. Your cheeks flare with heat. “Probably Sukuna, but Toji is a close second.”

At the way Yeosang quirks his brow at you, you’re quick to continue.

“Look, my taste in fictional men is questionable at best,” you comment, shifting slightly in your seat. “Don’t ask me why I have a thing for the psychopaths, but I do. Bonus points if they have red hair.”

You notice Hongjoong quirk a brow out in your direction of the corner of your eye, only for him to quickly turn to the male sitting to his left. A moment later, and he returns to his previous position, Wooyoung popping his head over the seat to grin smugly in your direction. You simply raise both eyebrows curiously.

“So, you like red hair?” The smug grin Wooyoung wears says it all.

“I enjoy the colour, yes, but it’s not my favourite.” You confirm, noticing how the male wiggles his brows suggestively at you. “The colour suits you very well, yes.”

“Good thing he’s not a psychopath,” Seonghwa mumbles.

“Debatable,” Hongjoong sighs, and you nearly laugh.

“Then, what are your favourite colours?” Yeosang inquires, blinking at you innocently.

“Hair wise?” At the nod you receive, you hum, thinking it over for a moment before answering. “For some reason, I definitely have an affinity towards bleached hair. I love the look of blond locks. Bonus points if it’s long and the roots are starting to grow in slightly. My absolute favourite is lavender, though. As much as I love Taemin’s blond hair, his lavender hair gets me every time. Jeonghan from Seventeen also had really nice lavender locks, and they were long, too. Oh, and special shout out to skunk dyes.”

The way they all stare at you has you immediately shrinking into your seat. Even more so when you see Wooyoung grinning at you like a maniac from a little ways away.

“Sorry, I’m rambling again.” You chuckle nervously. “Here I am talking to literal idols about this stuff when we’re not even friends.”

The boys all share a brief look with one another.

“We could be.” It’s Hongjoong that offers, the others nodding along softly in agreement.

To say his words catch you off guard would be an understatement, and you have just enough time to compose yourself so that you’re no longer staring at him, dumbfounded.

A blink, and a soft smile pulls onto your features. “I’d like that very much.”

A phone is nearly flung at your face, were it not for the way Yeosang quickly catches it midair.

“Jongho, calm down!” Yeosang harshly whispers to the younger beside him, gaze sharp as he shoots a pointed glare towards the male.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Jongho looks absolutely mortified when you turn to look at him.

“It’s alright,” you chuckle. “Honestly, not the worst thing that has been thrown at me before.”

The way they all look at you in confusion at you has shrugging a shoulder casually.

“When I worked at a bookstore on the operations team, I can’t count the amount of things that either got thrown at me by accident, or fell on me.” You say casually. “Books are also much heavier than phones.”

“I would imagine,” Hongjoong chuckles along with you. “Do you have kaotalk?”

“I do,” you nod in confirmation. “Though, we might have to wait until we land to exchange information. No wifi and all.”

“Ah, right,” you see his head tilt in acknowledgement.

A small pout pulls onto Jongho’s features as Yeosang hands the youngest his phone back.

“Then, we’ll exchange information once we land.” Mingi grins widely, practically shaking in excitement in his seat.

“Sounds good to me.” You grin right back, heart racing inside of your chest.

If someone would have told you that you’d not only be on the same flight as Ateez, but befriending them on said flight, you would have told them to stop fantasizing. However, truly being in this situation feels so unreal, even as you watch them all settle back into their seats with smiles on their faces.

“Thanks,” you mumble.

Yeosang quirks a brow.

“For catching that.”

“No problem.” The corner of his lips twitches upwards.

“So,” you shoot a look at him out of the corner of your eyes, noticing how the anime has been continuing to play in the background this whole time. “Who’s your favourite character?”

“In this?” He motions to your screen with a jerk of his chin.

“Yeah.” You nod.

“Don’t know. I’ve never seen it before.” He replies casually, and your eyes nearly bulge right out of your head.

“You’ve never seen it before?” Your voice is full of disbelief as you look towards him once more. At the shake of his head, you’re quick to restart the third episode, muttering to yourself about talking over the show this whole time.

“It’s okay,” Yeosang chuckles. “I’m used to the chaos.”

You quirk a brow. “Are you, now?”

“Yes.” he deadpans, turning his head to shoot you a pained smile with a thumbs up in the next second. “I thrive in it."

You cannot help yourself. A loud, boisterous laugh escapes you, your eyes crinkling in joy. A fact which is only emphasized when Yeosang begins to chuckle along with you, only to steel his face and nod solemnly every time he notices you peering over at him.

The way he grins right along with you as you finally calm yourself down from laughing so hard says it all. Not even the way you can see Jongho flicking his gaze towards you from over his book, a clear pout on his features can pull you out of this moment right now.

For the rest of the plane ride, you either watch more episodes of Jujutsu Kaisen with Yeosang, or talk lowly with him. The conversations are somewhat short, but calm nonetheless. They mainly consist of one of you asking the other a simple question, and going from there. Truly, two strangers just passing the time and enjoying the other’s company, rather than sitting in silence.

At one point, you manage to fall asleep again, only to be woken up by the announcement that the plane is now beginning its decent into Seoul. The way you notice your laptop has gently been closed, your headphone wrapped up and sitting neatly on top of it makes you smile softly.

Stretching as much as you can, you move to put your laptop away. You keep your headphones out, just in case you want to listen to music for the last little bit of your journey. Then, once you’ve settled back into your seat, you turn your head to the side.

Gazing out of the window, nothing but pure excitement shines within your eyes. It’s finally time, and as soon as you land, you feel as if everything will truly fall into place.

You can feel someone’s gaze on you every now and then. You figure it’s either Jongho watching you out of the corner of his eyes like you’ve noticed he likes to do, or Yeosang looking out of the window with you. Thus, you opt to sit back as far in your seat as you can, giving the male the perfect view to observe the ground getting closer and closer with each passing second. He’s probably missed his home more than you could ever imagine.

The moment the plane touches the ground, you cannot help the way your breath hitches in your throat. The small bounce of the wheels hitting the tarmac only serves to solidify to you that this is real. You’ve truly moved to Seoul for a year, and you have many adventures planned already to come. Starting with that award’s show, of course.

Turning your phone back on cellular for the moment, you’re quick to shoot a text to your family letting them know you’ve landed and arrived safely. It’s now early morning for them, so you’re not expecting a message back for at least another few hours. You also need to get a new data plan for the year you’ll be living in Seoul, so you add that to the mental list of things you need to do already forming in your head.

Five minutes later, and you’ve been taxied to the gate, the other passengers beginning to disembark. Honestly, you can’t wait to get off of this plane and stretch your legs. Your few trips to the bathroom did nothing to help. Besides, you can’t wait to get to your place and shower.

Holding your bags in your lap, you watch as Yeosang steps out into the aisle. Only, he pauses, motioning for you to go ahead of him.

“Ladies first.”

You smile politely, thanking him lowly as you step out of the row and begin to disembark the plane. You get about two steps onto the gate when Jongho steps in beside you, as if he was eager to follow you out.

“Holy shit, you are tall.” His awestruck voice reaches your ears.

An amused glance is sent his way out of the corner of your eyes.

“And the most common phrase said by males I meet goes to…” you huff out a laugh, seeing as he continues to scan you from head to toe, noticing how you stand a few inches taller than him.

A red hue begins to creep up his neck and onto the tips of his ears. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

“No, no,” you wave him off with another laugh. “It’s just funny when no one believes you are the height you say you are. Used to happen all the time when I tried dating apps.”

“What do you mean?” Yunho steps in on your other side, and you notice Yeosang walking beside him. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say the shorter male looks slightly irritated. Though, from the way you notice him loop around to begin chasing Jongho, you know that the younger must have done something before exiting the plane.

“Well, where I come from, it’s really common for guys to add their heights to their profile. Which is really funny, when they are usually the ones that lie about it.” You explain, heading towards customs with the crowd from the flight for the moment. “So, I always found it funny when I would tell the people I matched with my height, or when they would ask about it, only to not believe me. Then, whenever we would meet, I would be significantly taller than Jeremy who proclaimed himself to be ‘six-foot three’.”

You see Yunho nod beside you, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Got even more prominent when I started doing signings and people would stand near me.” You comment. “Not to mention the guys that would need to ‘prove’ how tall I was whenever they would bring their books up to be signed. On the other hand, though, it’s really cute to see so many people get flustered by it. Female presenting people and non-binary people especially. Though, I will never forget the fans who always ask me to cosplay Lady Dimitrescu from Resident Evil Eight.”

“You’ve cosplayed Lady Dimitrescu?” Mingi attempts to hide his excitement with a clearing of his throat as he steps into the space once occupied by Jongho.

“I’ve thought about it,” you hum, stepping into the line to get through customs with him, Yunho, Yeosang, and Jongho right behind you. Looks like the others are a little ways ahead already. “Maybe one day I will.”

“I fully support whatever decision you choose to make.” Jongho nods, enthusiastically.

“Just say you want her to step on you and be done with it,” Yeosang sighs, crossing his arms over his chest.

The way the younger lunges for the elder has a laugh escaping you, especially when the two males start bickering and slapping each other’s sides.

“If you want me to step on you that badly, I have one condition,” you joke, stepping up to the front seeing as you’re the next person in line. At the way you seem to now have all four of their undivided attention on you now, you grin, feeling your cheeks beginning to heat. “Suffocate me with your thighs, first.”

Each male doesn’t even have time to respond before you’re being called over to the customs officer, but you definitely catch their stunned reactions. The way you see Jongho nearly fall over, his face turning bright red and looking like he might spontaneously combust has your shoulders shaking in laughter.

The other three aren’t fairing much better. Yeosang’s eyes look about ready to pop out of his head with how wide they’ve gone. Additionally, both Mingi’s and Yunho’s mouths part, subtle blushes of their own creeping to their cheeks before the eldest is clearing his throat. They don’t have much time to dwell on your comment, for they each get called up to their own customs officer to get through to baggage claim soon after.

Getting through customs doesn’t take too long, and before you know it, you’re standing in front of the terminal waiting for your bags to come through. You didn’t necessarily spot any of the other guys, but you haven’t really been looking out for them, either. That is, until you see a blur of red approaching you from the side.

Wooyoung hops right up beside you, stopping short as a look of complete shock crosses his features. “Woah.”

Sparing a glance out of the corner of your eyes, you notice his gaze scan your figure. He begins looking around the ground at your feet, as if to spot whatever it is you must be standing on to make you that much taller than he is. Once he finds none, his awestruck gaze is back on your face.

“Wooyoung, I thought I told you to wait for us,” Hongjoong’s exasperated voice reaches your ears.

Turning your head, you see all of the guys now walking towards you, a few of their staff in tow.

“I’m so sorry, has he been pestering you?” A male, whom you’re assuming is their manager, addresses you.

“Not at all,” you shake your head, a slight grin tugging at your features. “I think I might have broken him, though.”

At your words, all heads turn towards a stunned Wooyoung, his mouth gaping like a fish. He blinks a few times, a dopey grin tugging onto his features soon after as his face begins to turn as red as his hair.

“Wooyo, are you okay?” It’s San who asks, coming up to stand beside the male still blinking at you.

A second later and Wooyoung starts giggling like a maniac, “tall lady. Pretty, tall lady. Pretty and tall lady.”

“Okay, I think someone needs more sleep.” Yunho gently guides the muttering male away from you with the help of San.

“Sorry about him,” Hongjoong chuckles, stepping in beside you.

You notice Yeosang standing on your opposite side, not saying a word. Though, you can feel the way he glances towards you out of the corner of his eyes every now and then.

The terminal begins moving, signifying the start of baggage claim for your flight.

“Anyways, should we exchange Kaotalk’s now?” Hongjoong asks, his phone already held in his hand.

“Sure!” You reply, shifting to grab your phone out of your pocket. A few moments later and you’re holding your screen to him with your Kaotalk code on full display. “Here you go.”

The way his eyes light up has you smiling, and you notice the others all pulling out their own phones to add you as well.

“Feel free to message me anytime,” you smile, already feeling your phone vibrate in your hand with a new message.

However, before you can even check who has messaged you, a voice from your left catches your attention.

“Don’t forget about me.” Yeosang blinks up at you as you turn to face him.

You smile softly. “I could never forget about you.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say you’ve just made him blush. The way he averts his gaze, focussing so intently on your phone to make sure he’s added you correctly only confirms your suspicion.

A piece of luggage on the conveyor belt catches your eye. Just as you move to place your phone into your back pocket and grab your bag, you notice Yeosang stop you.

“Which one is it?” He takes a few steps towards the terminal, not even waiting for you to respond.

“The silver one, but I can grab it-“ by the time the words have left your lips, he’s already hoisted your bag from the belt and placed it gently beside you. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

He smiles lightly. “I wanted to.”

You smile back. “I appreciate it.”

“Do you have any more?” He asks, eyes already scanning the moving luggage for similar ones to the bag he’s already grabbed for you.

“I have three, but I don’t expect you to-“

“Is this another?” He points to a larger silver hardshell case coming your way.

“Yes, but-“ again, before you can tell him not to worry about it, he’s lifting your luggage off of the conveyor and placing it gently beside your other one.

“Are the other two the same?” He asks, shifting his gaze towards you from over his shoulder.

“Same style, but red.” You blink, figuring you’re fighting a losing battle at this point if you keep telling him not to worry about it.

“Believe me, if I didn’t help you first, Jongho would have leapt across the room and done it himself,” Yeosang comments, pulling the first of your red bags off of the line for you.

The moment he wheels it over to you, you double check all of the labels, making sure these are indeed your bags.

“What about your bags?” You ask, noticing how he lifts your final bag off of the line in the next second.

“The staff usually handles them.” He shrugs, helping you wheel your bags over to a cart to help you start loading them onto it.

“Ah, so you wanted something to do.” You nod your understanding.

“Had to make sure all my muscles still work after a long flight like that.” He deadpans, the subtlest of quirks to his lips.

“Are you sure you didn’t just want to show off?” You quirk a brow teasingly.

“Depends,” he hums, shooting you a look out of the corner of his eyes as you both head towards the exit. “Were you impressed?”

You laugh, fake swooning in the next second. “My hero.”

Yeosang quirks a grin in response. “Fine then. Your bags were super heavy to lift, and I demand compensation.”

“I never forced you to lift them!” Your mouth falls open, a scandalized look crossing your features.

“I could have lifted them for you.” Jongho cuts in, seeing as they’ve all now caught up to you for the moment. “I would have been more than happy to.”

You chuckle, but you cannot help the way that you notice Yeosang fall silent as the younger inserts himself in between the both of you.

“It’s quite alright,” you smile softly. “Yeosang helped me just fine.”

“Do you have a ride to your accommodation?” It’s Seonghwa who asks, blinking at you with wide eyes.

“I do, thank you.” You nod. “My publisher sent some people to pick me up.”

You see a few of them nod back in understanding just as you reach the exit gate.

“Well, I guess this is goodbye for now.” Hongjoong turns to face you, stopping just off to the side to ensure they’re not blocking anyone’s path.

“You guys be careful out there,” you say, looking over all of them briefly. “I’ve seen some wild videos of how certain people can act towards all of you at the airport.”

“You, too.” Mingi sends a firm nod in your direction.

“Well, hopefully we’ll see you around!” Wooyoung grins, practically vibrating in his spot in excitement.

“Not to be ominous, but I have a feeling you will.” You smile knowingly. “Like I said, feel free to message me any time. Keep in touch if you can, and don’t be strangers.”

“We will,” Hongjoong smiles back, the corner of his own lips quirking knowingly as Jongho begins to pout beside him.

“I’ll see you guys around,” with a final wave, you’re grabbing your two luggage carts and steering them out of the exit.

You don’t even have to turn around to know that they follow you out a moment later. Given the way half of the crowd begins to bustle, practically swarming the opposite ramp as Ateez exits the terminal, you have a definitive answer. However, what you don’t expect is for a few people to be there for you.

“Miss, would you be willing to sign this for me? And could I possibly get a picture, too?” A girl asks, holding a copy of your first published book out to you.

“Of course,” you grin, having already given your luggage to the people you were supposed to be meeting at the airport that your publisher sent. Once you take the book and pen from her hands, you turn to face her. “Who should I make it out to?”

You’re so caught up in your own little world, completely awestruck by the fact that a small crowd had come to greet you at the airport, that you completely miss the feeling of eyes glancing back at you from across the way.

The last thing Yeosang sees before being ushered out to a waiting car is you signing some books and taking pictures with a few fans, a radiant smile lighting up your face.

#yandere yeosang #yandere ateez #ateez scenario #ateez imagines #yandere kpop #yeosang scenarios #kpop scenario #kpop au #kpop imagines #yandere au #chubby reader #tall reader #ateez x reader #ateez x you #ateez x y/n

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yanyanderes · 1 year

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The yandere self aware concept is so appealing to me

The guy's falling inlove with the person in another universe? Yes, that's amazing. But, when they're yandere? That's some good shit

Imagine Donnie is desperate for reader to be with them, to the point he builds a machine that's supposed to be impossible to build cause of all the multiverse stuff but hey, he IS in a cartoon world so it isn't that impossible

The reader's so confused when they get transported into the rottmnt world, trying to process the scenerio happening to them while the guy's are so happy to actually meet you! They can protect them properly now :)

Reader getting isolated in the guy's home isn't a far fetched idea. If it guarantees reader's safety, why not?

Hey, why're you trying to leave? We're keeping you safe here!

oooh man, this one’s an old one sent back in october.

sorry it took so long! didn’t have any ideas at the time, so i kinda let this sit in my drafts and forgot to get back to it-

but anyways, this one’s a long one, so i put it under the cut.

“…it actually…!”

“i know… genius… thank me later…”

“…alright? ….been unconscious for…”

“i’m sure… soon.”

the voices all blend together. they all seem so familiar… yet (y/n) isn’t able to pinpoint who they belong to, or where they’ve heard them from, especially when their ears are still ringing.

they groan, their head throbbing in agony. what… happened? one moment, they were watching some cartoons on their laptop, and then…

they manage to pry their eyes open, only to shield them again when a bright light practically blinds them.

the ringing doesn’t stop, but it dies down, allowing (y/n) to hear the voices more clearly. they crane their head to the side and see four figures. three stand off to the side, talking amongst themselves, while the fourth is right next to their aching figure.

as their vision clears, they can’t help but think… are they hallucinating? did they have a concussion? there’s no way this is actually happening…

the figure closest to them seems to finally realize they’ve woken up, judging by the way they call out to the others.

“guys! they’re awake!”

(y/n) tries to sit up, yet the moment they do, they clutch their head in agony, a yell escaping their throat as they curl into a ball.

“hey, hey, take it easy.“

a hand rubs circles on their back. the speaker’s voice sounded so concerned for their well-being… hang on. they know that voice- in fact, they know all their voices!

“it’s you-! ah!”

(y/n) turns their head quickly. maybe a bit too quickly, since the pain quickly gets worse and they clutch their head yet again.

“i just told you to take it easy! here, lay back down.”

large yet gentle hands rest on their shoulders, ushering them to rest. even so, (y/n) stays upright.

“i- i know you! i know all of you! you’re- no, there’s no way…”

do their eyes deceive them? the fuzziness in their eyes slowly dissipates, and-

no. no, they don’t. these are in fact four talking mutant turtles standing in front of them.

“there’s no way, no way! i’m dreaming, aren’t i?”

“no, this is no dream, we are all very much real.”

“but- you’re from a tv show! this- this is so weird.”

“you think that’s weird?! imagine being us! we’re just minding our business, testing out mystic weapons, when all of a sudden we hear cheering!”

what?

“not gonna lie, it was kinda creepy at first, but-“

“but you were so sweet, we couldn’t help but love it!”

mikey wraps his arms around (y/n) and pulls them into a hug, the sudden motion making them woozy yet again.

“you called us cool, you cried when we cried, you cheered us on!”

“you- you heard all that??”

“of course we did! and can i just say, you were absolutely adorable while you were gushing over us.”

it takes a moment for (y/n) to process all this information.

they wake up on a table with a throbbing headache… in one of their favorite cartoons… and now they’re being told the characters were watching them as well.

this is kinda cool, but mostly… really freaky. especially with the way they’re acting with them.

“i- um- thanks?”

(y/n) is admittedly really nervous talking to them face-to-face, especially after learning they had been listening to everything they said about them.

“i’m- it’s a pleasure to meet you, but… how am i here?”

“oh, you have me to thank for that! you see, with me being the genius i am, i managed to construct a machine that could transport you from your dimension into ours!”

he what.

“you… what?!”

“i know! incredible, isn’t it?”

“there’s a way to go back, right?”

“you wanna leave already?”

mikey’s excitement quickly dies hearing (y/n)’s words. he releases them from a hug, and they can see the panicked, almost frantic look in his eyes.

“i mean, it’s really nice meeting you all, i just… have a lot of business to catch up on in my world, and i’d like to get back as soon as possible.”

“but- but- there’s so much we still have to do!”

“and you said you loved us, didn’t you? every time you showed up, you’d be all over us!”

“i know, i just-“

their eyes dart to donnie, hoping he would butt in to help their case. donnie and leo give a quick glance at each other, with leo giving donnie a small nod.

“of course. we understand, pulling you from your dimension and forcing you into ours was wrong, and we apologize. we’ll get to work immediately to rectify our mistake.”

(y/n) lets out a relieved sigh, happy to hear they would be going home soon. though, was it just them, or was donnie acting a bit… off?

they had little time to think on it when mikey’s grip on them returns, this time nearly crushing their ribs.

“donnie, what’re you doing?! they can’t leave yet! raph, tell them they can’t leave yet!”

(y/n)’s gaze flickers over to donnie, who was currently working with the machine that had brought them there. however, they can’t help but worry for the strange noises that emit from the machine…

raph is quick to distract them by stepping in the way, blocking donnie from their field of vision. no matter how they crane their neck, raph seems determined to stay in their sights.

“before you go, why don’t you rest a bit? donnie said something about headaches, are you alright? need me to get you anything? drinks? food? pillows?”

“you can have all the drinks, food, and pillows you want if you stay!”

“but i can’t, i have a life to live! family to take care of, friends to visit, a home to go back to-!”

“this can be your new home!”

the desperation in mikey’s voice only gets more noticeable as he talks more and more.

“we’ll love you, we’ll take care of you! you won’t have to worry about visiting anyone! we’ll give you everything you want!”

by this point, (y/n) had started struggling to get out of mikey’s death grip. what is up with these guys?? they never acted like this in the show!

“i already told you, i can’t-!”

BOOM

they’re interrupted by an explosion off to the side. no. no, this isn’t happening. raph steps out of the way and, to (y/n)’s horror, reveals the completely obliterated machinery that was supposed to bring them home.

“oh dear! it looks like my invention has spontaneously combusted! what in the world could have caused such an unfortunate event?”

(y/n)’s knows that tone of voice. the almost robotic way of speaking donnie uses only when he’s trying to lie. he did this on purpose.

“ahh, such a shame.”

leo doesn’t even try to hide his lack of concern, given his relaxed- almost pleased- expression, and the way he wraps an arm around (y/n)’s shoulders.

“how long will it take to fix that thing?”

“if we’re lucky, perhaps a year.”

those monsters.

“oh well. hey, don’t worry about it! you’ll love it here!”

liars.

“we’ve been getting ready for this day for weeks! we’ve got a room just for you, with all your favorite snacks, and a bunch of games and movies we think you’ll enjoy!”

psychopaths.

“don’t worry, (y/n)! we’ll take care of you. we promise.”

‘take me home’.

didn’t know how to end this-

#yandere tmnt #yandere rottmnt #yandere teenage mutant ninja turtles #yandere rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #yandere tmnt 2018 #yandere raph #yandere leo #yandere donnie #yandere mikey #yandere #yan-asks

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eetherealgoddess · 5 months

Text

ꨄOur Beta 2ꨄ

Yandere Omegaverse Au

Sano Manjiro, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

Read the first one for context!!

Part One

Not fully proofread!

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR, AO3, AND WATTPAD UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

Japanese language is red

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There will be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Our Beta 2

“Koko, I… I didn’t sign up to be a sex slave or a cuddle buddy. I c-can’t take this anymore!”

Y/n sat on the bed with her back leaned against the headboard, eyeing the executive in front of her with a pleading gaze as he could only stare back with pity and crossed arms. It had been two months since the additional heat and former executive Y/n has been entangled with a web of arms almost daily.

“I understand, but there’s nothing I can do. Trust me, I do feel sympathetic towards your situation, as this was an unexpected circumstance, but you know as well as I do that no one can go against the Boss's orders.” He sighs. Her head falls on her hands before she glares at him once more.

“I’ve been locked up in this room for, I don’t even know how long without a phone, and with stupid journals and board games as a means of entertainment. I’ve seen all channels and have streamed hella shows on the tv. Koko, just please help me escape. They-!”

“Stop right there. You know that either one of us could get killed if I help you. Just hang in there and be patient. I-I’ll try to find a way to at least talk you out of being stuck in this room. You can’t try anything, Y/n. It’ll only get worse.” He states as he begins to walk to the doorway.

“When are they coming back?”

“They’re on a mission right now. I don’t know when they’ll be back.”

She nods in response as he leaves and shuts the door.

I’ve gotta get out of here. I can’t be here if I’m not going to be an executive. This is torture. I’m not even an alpha.

Y/n might’ve more inclined to have accepted the terms if she would’ve been told about it before becoming an executive, having had a crush or two at the beginning, though her beta instincts not being affected as much as an alpha would to their attraction. Keyword, ‘might.’ She’s not really the type for that kind of job anyway, but it would have been nice to have had the option instead of being forced to do this. Especially with the lack of freedom.

Not to mention, she never consented to any of that, embarrassment still lingering as she thinks back on the events as she rubs the scar caused by one of the Haitanis biting her shoulder. It’s been a while so it’s fading but it was inflicted enough to last this long.

Finally deciding to make a move, she thinks of a plan to escape. Koko is probably in his designated room, face planted on his laptop screen so she shouldn’t have to worry about him, nor the alphas and omegas who are on a mission. Yes the security cameras will capture her leaving, but if she’s gone it won’t matter anyway. They’ll see the empty room. That leaves the guards. Fortunately, she gained some physical skills from her time as an executive so she wasn’t worried about fighting them off. She can find a hotel to stay in and get a new card from the bank. She’ll figure out her phone later.

She hops from the bed as she makes her way to the door. When she knocks on the door, she moves a step back to get ready for her attack. Once she hears the door click she takes a deep breath before blowing it out, jumping on the first guard that opens the door, both of them falling with her landing on top.

She punches him until he’s knocked out just in time for the second one to come behind, her standing up to grab his wrist near the shoulder that his hand was planted on, and swings him over, his body landing on the floor before she knocks him out as well. When that was over, she took a breath once more, eyeing her shaky hands as she headed to the exit. Adrenaline pumps as she runs, anticipating her freedom as she gets closer.

Once she makes it, she grabs the door and snatches it open, expecting guards to attack but only being met with icy blue eyes glaring at her.

“Fuck!” She tries pushing past him, only to be snatched painfully from the wrist as he drags her in, shutting the door behind them.

“S-Sanzu! Wait, please!” When they make it in front of the designated bedroom, he crosses over the bodies with a look of disgust.

“Pathetic. You can’t even do your job.”

He shoves her into the room. She turns back to him and grabs his arm before he can leave.

“Sanzu! P-please don’t tell Mikey! I just…!” He holds his hand up with narrowed eyes. She releases him and steps back. Pulling out his phone, begins dialing a number. Putting the phone to his ear, he begins speaking in his language. Y/n could only stare wide eyed in fear as to what could be planned for her. The only word she recognized was ‘traitor’ and that didn’t make her feel any better. When the call ended, he placed his phone back in his pocket before pulling out his gun and pointing at her. She froze as he walked closer to her. Before she could process anything, he pulled it back before landing a blow on her head with the butt of the gun, knocking her out. He catches her body before it falls and places her on the bed, leaving the room once he is done.

When she awakens, an excruciating pain in her abdomen catches her attention as her face scrunches and grunts leave her mouth. She attempted to move her arm to wrap around the pressure but she looked over to see that a cuff was connected from the chain hanging from the post. Her arm failing to budge caused her to move her leg which is also restrained against the bed tightly.

A wet liquid gushes out of her uncontrollably causing her to squirm in discomfort, the sensation of it dripping down her bare ass making her sick as she’s never been used to this kind of slick forming from her own body. Finally, she’s aware of her surroundings when she hears a loud scream in the room.

“P-PLEASE…!” The sound of an object making contact with flesh caused her worse pain as she recognized the word, meaning someone’s demise had been completed.

“Boss! I won’t let it happen again! Sp-spare me for my fam-!”

“Shut up.” Mikey hissed. The same sound made an impact once more, interrupting the victim causing her to flinch as tears built.

That must be the guards. I’m really going to die like this.

“Ah Beta, you’re finally awake.” Ran says as he walks over with the bloody baton on his shoulder, smirking as he looks down at her.

“Hey, you’re looking a little warm. Let’s fix that” Rin says before snatching the blanket that’s covering her naked body away. She gasps as she tries to use her legs to cover herself in reflex, failing miserably. It doesn’t matter how many times they have seen her naked, she will always feel humiliation considering they were her partners in quite a few missions. Also to be in such a vulnerable state, sweaty, hot, her own aroma filling up the air, and in straight agony, bare in front of the psychopaths she used to look up to, her being the newest executive after all.

She groans when another shot of pain surges through her body after another gush of slick falls out, gritting her teeth as her hands turn to fists. She breathes heavily as she tries to contain the new urges, her body surviving through an experience she has never had to deal with before. A hand grabs her chin, forcing her to look towards the opposite side of the bed, Mikey standing above her, his hair hovering over as he leans over.

“This is your fault.” He states with a stoic expression before releasing his grip and walking away from the bed, towards the exit. On the same side, Sanzu gets closer with a smirk on his face.

“Enjoy your heat, Beta.” They all walk towards the exit, shutting the door behind them as they leave Y/n and the dead bodies in the room.

After a while of suffering through the process with tears, slick, and agony, the door clicks open as a few footsteps make their way in. Koko came into view with a concerned look on his face, shaking his head.

“Y/n, I told you not to try anything.” He groans, palms rubbing down his face. She could only respond with whimpers and sniffs as she couldn’t form the words to express her distress.

“They’re planning to keep you here for the entire duration of your induced heat. I’m sorry, Y/n but it’s unknown as to when it will be over.” He resists the urge to cover her with the blanket, not wanting to deal with the repercussions that would come.

“K-koko please…! Unchain me f-for just a m-minute… I need t-to…t-take care of myself!”

“I cannot risk my own safety, Y/n. You will have to endure.” He sighs in pity. He looks over as the employees drag the bodies out and clean the evidence.

“Next time, please don’t let this happen again. For your own sake.”

Y/n’s heat lasted for a week and a half before she finally ended with no release or anyone to help her through. The omegan urges haunted her throughout the process of trying to survive. Nobody was allowed to check on her after the cleaners came. She wasn’t given food or water and had to endure with an empty stomach and dry throat, not that she would’ve been able to eat or drink anything anyway with her discomfort.

When it was over, she was too weak to speak or move, her eyes hollow as she could only take breaths and lay there. Finally, employees cleaned and fed her, a slow process before they left after chaining one of her ankles to the bed. She spent the next week becoming healthier, only allowed to get up for the bathroom. There were no signs of any executives until Mikey slept in the same bed one of the nights after it was over, holding her. The other omegan executives getting their own time with her when their boss allows it.

When Y/n was completely healthy, she was used once again as a heat guide for them as they shared the bed, bundled up in different nests made of clothes and blankets. She reluctantly accepts her fate, having no choice but to comply and survive.

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thecuriousquest · 1 year

Text

You Know You Love it Part Two

Yandere!Bully KiriBaku x Reader

Warnings: Bullying, degradation, slapping, masochism

Part One

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Checkout my Master List here.

————————————————————————

Stressing out about where your laptop is, you frantically pace your dorm room for it. Raking your hands through your hair, you begin to cry. All of your notes and projects are on there, and it’s close to midterms as well.

You take to looking all over the library for your computer. While you’re too preoccupied with your search, you’re too busy to notice the duo walking up behind you.

One of their strong hands pushes you so hard that you fall over. Your guess is it’s Katsuki, and your guess is right by the way he’s standing in front of Kirishima.

They look down on you, literally and metaphorically. The way they look at you like a predator observing prey momentarily distracts you from your stress. You fix your glasses but decide to stay on the floor, choosing to give yourself a chance to forget about everything that’s happening in the outside world.

Right now, you want to be in their world.

“Why did you do that, Bakugou?” You whisper due to being in the library.

Walking over to you, he crouches down and sneers in your face. His cologne brushing your nostrils, making you come alive.

“Because I fucking felt like it, nerd.” He grabs you by the arm and pulls you up. “We have something we want to discuss with you.” Dragging you along to an isolated section of the library, you find yourself pressed up against a sturdy bookshelf. Spines of leather-bound books press into yours as he traps you with a hand on either side of your head.

Eijiro takes off his back pack and pulls it in front of him. “We found something that we thought might interest you, Little Mouse.”

You roll your eyes. “Like there’s anything you could find that would interest me.”

“You sure about that?” Katsuki challenges.

You feel surprised and hopeful at what Kirishima plucks from his bag. It’s your laptop, your prized possession. You try to lunge for it, but the redhead pulls it from your reach.

You groan. “Give it back. What do you want?”

“I want you to say, ‘I’m a helpless, pathetic little bitch.’ Say it.”

“What? I’m not saying that. I can handle myself-”

You’re cut off with a harsh slap to your face. Katsuki’s heavy hand causes your glasses to fall to the floor.

Tears prick at your eyes, and you shove that cry that so desperately wants to escape down your throat.

“Say it,” the ashen blonde demands.

You look at Kirishima. Knowing he won’t do anything, your eyes still wonder to him.

“Say it, and we’ll give it back. Promise.”

Your pride leaves your body as you look down and barely whisper, “I’m a helpless, pathetic little bitch.”

Grabbing your jaw in his hand, Bakugou raises your gaze up to his. “What was that?”

Tears begin to fall. It’s unavoidable. Though you love their teasing, their games, and their constant dominance, sometimes it’s hard for you to play along with certain things.

“I’m a helpless, pathetic little bitch,” you tell them a bit louder.

Kirishima leans against the bookshelf next to you. “Now, tell us how wonderful we are for finding your laptop and bringing it to you. Tell us how you’re too stupid to do anything for yourself.”

You’re bursting at the seams. “I think you two are so wonderful for bringing my computer to me. Thank you so much. I was too stupid, and I couldn’t find it myself. I can’t do anything for myself.”

They’re having so much fun taunting you, and you forget about all of the stress you’re dealing with during midterms.

The redhead wipes one of your tears away with his thumb. “Say ‘I’m a little cry baby.’”

It’s true. Why shouldn’t you say it? Here you are, standing before your bullies, crying. It’s so belittling, yet it makes you so wet.

However, deep down, you’re such a little brat that you can’t help but want to make things harder for them, thus making things harder for yourself.

Shaking your head and biting your lip, you struggle against Katsuki. He holds you by your shoulders and shakes you.

“Say it, bitch.”

“I’m not a cry baby!”

“Yeah? Then why are you crying like one?”

“Because you two are so mean!”

They coo at you, so cute. You have no idea how adorable you are in their eyes.

Kirishima chuckles in your ear. “Aw, are we mean? Are we so mean to the little baby?” His voice changes, and he becomes more strict with his firm tone. “If you don’t want us to smash your laptop right in front of you, then fucking say what we wanna hear.”

You have no other choice. You can’t afford to lose all of your notes, assignments, and hard work. “I’m…I’m…” you take a shaky breath. “I’m a little cry baby.”

Katsuki’s breath is hot on your ear. “Tell us how much you need us.”

The tears suddenly stop.

Bakugou and Kirishima look at you, waiting for you to tell them what they want to hear.

“I…I need you.”

The volatile blonde pats your cheek lightly. “Tell us what you need us for.”

“To- to do things for me because I’m helpless.” You can feel your own sticky mess increase between your thighs. You shift slightly to rub that sensitive spot and activate the hundreds of pleasurable little nerves. “I’m just a helpless little mouse.”

You don’t know why you said it. It’s not like they told you to. You just did it because it felt right.

They chuckle, and you feel Eijiro’s big paw on top of your head. “Good girl. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You shake your head. You’ve had worse from them, this doesn’t even make the top twenty.

“A promise is a promise,” Katsuki sighs as Kirishima gives you the laptop.

Your soaking wet cunt aches for the touch of something, anything. You can’t wait to get back to your dorm.

You’re pushed one last time by Bakugou, but it’s not as bad as you were pushed earlier. It’s a warning shove to remind you of who’s boss. Like you could ever forget with the way they carry themselves.

As they walk away, you pick up your glasses that fell with the slap from before. Just as they’re about to turn the corner, you call out to them.

“Bakugou, Kirishima!”

They turn back to face you.

“Thanks…for the laptop…” A blush creeps across your cheeks.

They give you an odd yet curious look before shrugging and sauntering off.

#my hero acedamia #yandere #boku no hero academia #yandere katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugou #eijiro kirishima #bnha eijiro kirishima #bnha katsuki bakugou #mha katsuki bakugou #mha eijiro kirishima #kiribaku #triggering themes

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facewithoutheart · 7 months

Text

Today in fics I’m never going to write but keep thinking about: Baz getting hit with amnesia shortly before the events of WS and being told he’s dating some guy with wings and a tail who never gets off the sofa. And he’s like, “Yeah I don’t see it,” which is kind of heartbreaking but also kind of a giant release of pressure for Simon because, “Oh he doesn’t know what I’ve lost,” and they become tentative friends. Baz of course loves Penny and they nerd out trying to figure out what’s caused Baz’s amnesia. There’s no real incentive for Baz to get his memories back except, “They’re my memories, Simon. Don’t you think I’m owed them?” To which Simon just smiles sadly and misses the way Baz used to call him Snow. But it’s fine! Honestly! Simon keeps downplaying what they had. Telling little stories like, “Oh that’s the time you spelled my laptop shut nbd,” and, “Yeah I got locked out in the cold all night but the stars were really pretty,” and Baz is like… and you dated me??? But there’s also moments where Simon explains he broke Baz’s nose and tried to out him as a vampire, and Baz just doesn’t get it, them, at all.

Except… okay so maybe it hasn’t escaped Baz’s notice how attractive Simon is. And there are moments when he gets off the couch that he’s shockingly funny, and sweet. He sometimes slips into quiet but Baz has started to piece together what’s happened and maybe that makes sense. It’s not like he has anything to say, either. “What would I have to offer in conversation, Simon? I barely even know my own name.” And they sit together on the sofa and watch television. It’s… something.

Insert a bit of Baz spiral with Baz wondering, “is this what made me fall? Is this?” As he keeps looking for the spark, the reason, the moment he fell for Simon Snow.

I’m not sure what the conflict is here. Maybe Baz overhears Dr. Wellbelove talking to Simon about the Mage? Maybe there’s a Fiona intervention? A Malcolm one? But at some point there’s some big argument where Baz confronts Simon and they’re screaming at each other and then Baz bursts into laughter. And Simon’s like wtf Baz but Baz can’t stop laughing because of course this is it. Of course this is when he falls for Simon. When they’re screaming at each other.

But it’s not that, is it? It’s every time Simon smiled, and every time something on the television made him laugh and Simon’s first reaction is to look at Baz. And it’s how he teases Penny and hasn’t pressured Baz to get his memories back. Just accepts him as he is. Helps him hunt. Maybe yells at Fiona to back off when Baz doesn’t get his memories back fast enough. It’s how Simon Snow is alive, alive, alive, he’s full of life and that’s when it all comes rushing back. All of his memories falling like rain all over Baz; not a flood but a cleansing. It’s not overwhelming to love Simon it’s never been and having this outside perspective on who Simon is and what he’s been through independent of Baz’s issues has reminded Baz of what he’s fighting for.

Baz finally stops laughing. He walks over to Simon, presses both hands to his cheeks, says, “Snow,” then kisses him. And of course Baz hasn’t called Simon “Snow” this whole time so Simon knows Baz’s memories are back.

Ok and insert more angst: Simon immediately pushes Baz off and walks out their door. Because it’s been easy letting Baz in hasn’t it? He didn’t know what Simon lost. Who he used to be. He finally understood, didn’t he? The arsehole… ever since Baz lost his memories he knew better. He knew what Simon had always known: that Simon is nothing. Not the Chosen One, not even a mage. God not even Normal. Just a chewed up bit of empty space with wings and a tail. A freak. Wasn’t it nice, getting to know Baz without any of that history? Without any of the pressure? I mean sure sometimes Simon wanted to pounce on him and snog him senseless or hold his hand when the movie they were watching got scary. And Baz kept doing things for Simon like getting him the brand of cider he likes best and making sandwiches for him when he forgot to eat. And spending time with him without huffing about how Simon was wasting his life and not looking at Simon like he could see who used to be there: someone. Someone who mattered. And that’s what it’s gonna be now, right? More pointed looks and disappointed smiles and knowing, always knowing and never saying that Baz is too good for him.

Didn’t he know Simon Snow was meant to be alone?

Oooh okay maybe Simon just like, rage runs back to the flat and slams open the door and is like, “How dare you?” But he’s not even sure what he’s saying. He’s not even sure what he’s thinking. All he knows is that he wants Baz, any version of Baz, even the one who thinks he’s wasting his life because of course he’s missed that. He liked sitting next to Baz and watching shows and not feeling any pressure but god the way he felt when Baz was screaming at him. Simon’s got wings but he never feels like he can fly without Baz, next to him. Pushing him.

Because if Simon is alive alive alive it’s only because Baz makes him want to be. Baz has always been Simon’s reason, even when things were…

And then Simon’s kissing Baz, and Baz is kissing back, and maybe Simon can keep this. Maybe he can choose this.

Maybe he can try.

#still doesn’t feel settled but whatever here have this half-formed concept #snowbaz

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vminizzle · 1 year

Text

SERIES || HOPE - JJK

Part 3 : a new chapter

pairing : husband!jungkook × f.reader

genre : smut, fluff, angst

warnings : pet names, slight dry humping, love making, penetration, unprotected sex, marking, praising, breeding kink, creampie

words count : 3k

A/N : hi my lovely people, I hope y’all doing good and spending a nice weekend. Thank you for reading the first and second part of this "series", I hope I won’t disappoint with this third part. I got feedbacks on the two other parts and I feel so happy about it. Guys, I ain’t lying when I say reading your comments make me happy asf. I mean it. Thank you for everything! REMINDER : POOR ENGLISH. Take care of yourselves, love you all so much. - sunny

FEEDBACKS ARE VERY WELCOMED

SERIES MASTERLIST

M RATED

THE NEXT DAY

“you ready?” Jungkook asked holding your hand.

You took a deep breath before nodding.

You were nervously standing in front of the villa front door, your friends probably doing their “everyday things” without doubting you were about to do your “comeback”.

Jungkook placed his hand on your lower back, a small gesture encouraging you to knock on the door.

You lifted your fist in the air, hesitating on knocking, many scenarios playing in your head.

“what if they hate me?” you whispered anxiously more to yourself.

“don’t say such a thing.” your husband tsked.

“they aren’t like that.” he turned your body around to face him.

He cupped your cheeks gently making you look up at him.

“C’mon, they missed you a lot. They’re gonna be happy to see you again.” he said before pecking your forehead.

You gulped before facing the door again, this time your fist coming in contact with it.

After a few seconds, a brown haired boy opened the door, a gasp escaping from his lips.

“y/n!” Hoseok said a big smile appearing on his face.

“I’m so happy to see you!” he grabbed you by your shoulders embracing you in a warm hug.

“Hoseok, I’m so happy to see you too.” your hands flew to his back to hug him tighter making him chuckle.

“oh, did you grow up?” he joked touching your head only to light up the mood more.

“Hey JK!” Hoseok said loudly making the concerned man grin.

“how you doin’ man?” he hugged his friend quickly.

“much better.” he smiled looking at you.

”please come in guys.” he moved to the side allowing Jungkook and you to enter the house.

Walking to the spacious living room, you were met with the familiar scenery :

Jimin laying on the couch with his phone, Taehyung sat down on the carpet with a drawing book, Yoongi headphones on with his laptop and Namjoon standing in front of the glass door, admiring whatever he was looking at.

Perhaps, the sunflowers Hoseok planted recently?

“guys we have visitors!”

Jimin looked up from his phone screen, his eyes widening as he jumped out the couch.

“y/n! You’re back!” he immediately took your in his arms.

Jin came out from the kitchen with furrowed eyebrows.

“and now why are you yelling?” he asked frustrated, he probably told the boys to be quiet for him to cook peacefully.

He opened his mouth surprised as he noticed you standing in the middle of the room.

“oh my- guys! y/n, is here!”

“no shit Sherlock.” Jungkook rolled his eyes teasingly to annoy him.

Taehyung stood up “we missed you so much, you can’t even imagine.”

You smiled at him, Jimin finally letting go of you.

“It’s nice to see you.” Yoongi walked to where you were standing and side hugged you.

“yea it’s nice to see you again y/n.” Namjoon approached, patting your shoulder.

Jimin looked at you with his teary eyes, a little smile decorating his lips.

“please don’t cry.” You pouted, your eyes getting teary again.

“And now how do you want me not to cry? I was worried, I didn’t see my best friend for about a month and you dare asking me that?” Jimin protested.

You lowered your head, feeling bad about making them feel like that.

You took him in your arms again “I’m so sorry, I feel so b-”

“please no. It’s ok, let’s no.” he said hugging you tightly making you chuckled.

Jin, Namjoon, Taehyung, Hoseok and Yoongi encircled you and Jimin in a big hug making Jungkook coughed.

“Well, I’m glad to see you too guys.” he said with a poker face making everyone laugh.

The boys ran to him greeting him.

“so how are you both?” Namjoon asked as he signaled you to sit on the couch.

You looked at Jungkook before clearing your voice.

“I’d really like to apologize to you guys.” you started catching everyone’s attention.

“I was being disrespectful toward you for the past few weeks-”

“what are you even talking about?” Jin cut you off with a serious face.

“Please guys, listen to me.” you asked making them nod.

“I feel bad for making you feel like I was ignoring you or whatever. It was selfish of me and .. I regret it. You guys didn’t do anything but be patient and kind to me. I don’t deserve you.” you sighed.

“It was my problem and I acted like it was your fault or I don’t know… i just .. I’m so sorry, please accept my apologies.” you looked down.

It was silent for a moment. Jungkook took your hand in his gently, caressing the back of it with his thumb.

“y/n.” Jimin came to sit next to you.

“please don’t apologize. You don’t have to. It’s understandable. We aren’t mad at you or whatever you´ve had thought. We were just worried and nothing more. We missed you but never we’ve been mad at you during that period. You needed time for yourself, to recover and to take care of yourself. And you do deserve us, yea?” he said putting his hand on your shoulder making you look at him.

“thank you so much guys.” you wiped your tears with the back of your hand.

Jungkook got up clapping his hands “well, big hug?” he smiled widely.

“big hug!” Hoseok screamed making everyone laugh.

The rest of the day flew so fast, you spent your time talking about what the guys have been doing during this long month while eating Jin’s new recipe, which was just heaven for mouth.

—

4 MONTHS LATER

“ahhh what a nice evening.” you hummed as you took off your coat throwing it in the nearest surface.

“I agree. It was pleasant.” Jungkook said making you nod as you let your body fall back on the couch.

“And the food was just.. delicious!” you exclaimed as your took your shoes off, closing your eyes.

“I’m sure of one thing, I’ll go to that restaurant again.” Jungkook affirmed.

“You good?” He asked as he approached you.

You opened your eyes smiling “yea.” you patted the space next to you telling your husband to sit.

“I love you.” you laid your head on his shoulder making him smile.

“I love you more Mrs. Jeon.” he kissed your forehead making you giggle.

After some good minutes, Jungkook shifted in his place making you look at him.

“y/n.” he started a bit nervous.

“let’s try again.” he whispered hesitantly.

You stared at him speechless. You just couldn’t think straight at the sudden demand.

“I mean.. no.. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t had asked that now.” he immediately said waving awkwardly.

You blinked several times before taking his hands in yours on your lap.

”Jungkook.“ you whispered making him look at you, his eyes full of regret.

”I’m sorry, I asked and I didn’t even know if you’re ready or if you still want or if-“ you put your finger on his mouth stopping his blabbing.

You chuckled at his confused face ”don’t apologize, I want it.“ you said.

”I’m not forcing you y/n-”

“i know. I just, you know, I’ve been thinking about it these days.. about trying again." you confessed making him let a deep breath out.

“I thought I pressured you.” he put his hand on his chest.

“what? no.” you laughed.

You turned your body completely to face him.

“I want to have a baby with you.” you took his face in your hands, pecking his lips quickly leaving the man speechless.

“gosh I love you.” he breathed out making you laughed.

You stood up taking his hand in the process and lead him to the bedroom upstairs.

You closed the door behind you as you walk into the bedroom with your husband.

Your hands were flat against his shirt-covered chest making you feel how strong he was.

Jungkook stared down at you as you unbuttoned the shirt’s buttons painfully slow.

You looked up at him surprised as he suddenly grab you by your hips pulling you closer to him.

“stop teasing love.” he groaned making you bit your bottom lip.

“I’m not.” you smirked before yanking his black shirt off, dropping it in the carpeted floor.

He smirked back turning your body around before pushing your hips back against him, making you feel how hard he was.

“I’m trying to be patient, but you see it’s getting harder.” he murmured into your ear before biting your earlobe making you moan softly, the sound, a melody to him.

His large hands went on your stomach, sliding down to your thighs, lower until they reached the end of your dress.

“May I?” he waited for your consent until you murmured a little “yes”.

Jungkook kissed your neck as he slid your dress up, but before he could continue you grab his hands “wait.”

“what is it? did I do something?” he looked at you worried making you shook your head.

“nah but you’ll ruin my dress if you take it off like that, the zipper is just right there.” you pointed to the side of the dress.

“oh man, you serious right now?” he closed his eyes sighing.

“hey hey I love that dress!” you slapped his chest making him laugh.

“ok ok m’aam, I will take it off properly then .” he lifted an eyebrow up making you grin.

“go on mister.”

One of his hand was resting on your waist as the other one went to the zipper dragging it down slowly revealing your soft skin.

You helped him remove the dress, still caring about the precious material, making your husband roll his eyes.

Leaving you in your black lingerie, Jungkook had to hold himself from drooling before the beauty standing in front of him.

“fuck, you look so good”.

You hid your face behind your hands “stop it please.”

“no. you really look like a goddess darling.” he licked his lips.

“thank you.” you hugged him.

He patted your head before sighing.

“y’know we’re supposed to make a baby.” he joked.

You parted away pinching his side making him wince “I was joking.”

You put your hands around his neck “now come here.” you pulled him down for a kiss.

He pulled you against him, feeling his warm skin against yours.

Your hands cascaded down his stomach until they reached his belt, you broke the kiss, looking up at him waiting for his consent.

“go on darling.” he caressed your cheek.

Without hesitating you unbuckled his belt pushing his pant down as he stepped out of it.

You walked him backward to the bed making him sit on the edge.

He made you sit on his lap, resting his hands on top of your thighs.

“I can’t wait to show you how much I love you.”

“don’t waste time then.” you put your hands on his shoulders, leaning into his neck to place soft kisses.

“show me how much you love me.” you said making him closed his eyes.

“show me how much you want me.” you bit his neck teasingly

You didn’t know where this boost of confidence came from but it felt so good.

“fuck.” his hands gripped the flesh of your thighs tightly as you started grinding on his confined bulge.

“enough.” he groaned stilling your hips.

“I can’t anymore.” he said impatient before switching position, laying you on your back and getting on top of you.

He leaned down, capturing your lips into a sweet kiss.

His hands went behind your back trying to take your bra off.

After all these years, Jungkook kept on struggling with it. You chuckled sitting up and unhook the material that annoyed your husband.

“there you go.” you discarded the bra on the pile of clothes near the bed.

He sighed “next time I’ll get it.” he pecked your lips.

Jungkook pushed you on your back gently again, lowering himself on you.

He started leaving wet little kisses between the valley of your breasts, his hands on each sides of your hips as he kept on going down slowly.

You could felt butterflies in your stomach as his mouth arrived near your navel.

“you’re so pretty, look at you.” he murmured against your skin, goosebumps raising at the praises.

You moaned when he bit the inside of your left thigh. His fingers started playing with the waistband of your panties.

“please take it off.” you whined getting impatient.

“as you wish.” Jungkook executed.

He was about to kiss higher when you pulled on his hair “what is it?” He asked confused.

“please let’s skip foreplay, I need you.” you pleaded.

“so eager huh.” Jungkook teased making you roll your eyes before you pulled him up by his arm.

“please.” you closed your eyes desperately.

He bit back a smile.

“fine fine.” he finally decided to get rid of his boxer, letting him bare on top of you.

He positioned himself in between your legs, rubbing his cock between your glistening lips.

“stop teasing.” you looked up at him with furrowed eyebrows angrily.

“don’t make that face babe, you look nothing but adorable.” he pinched your cheek.

“Stop it Kook!” you slapped his back making him laugh.

“fine.” he grinned.

“are you ready my love?” he aligned himself at your entrance, now looking at you carefully.

You nodded holding his bicep tightly as he entered you painfully slow.

“fuck.” Jungkook groaned as he lowered his head into the crook of your neck.

“you’re so tight.” he breathed out before looking up at your face.

Your eyes were closed, eyebrows furrowed, your lips ajar as you tried to divert your mind off the painful feeling down there.

“you good princess?” he kissed your cheek.

“please move.” you whined.

Jungkook started moving in and out making you bite your bottom lip hard.

“you feel so good.” he panted as he picked up the pace making you moan.

“don’t stop oh my- faster!” you demanded as he hit that spot that could make you see stars again and again.

It’s been so long since the two of you had this intimate moment.

You needed that.

You needed to feel each others again, you needed to find yourselves.

“fuck! yes like that!” You threw your head back as he grabbed one of your thigh to lift your leg a bit higher so he could reach deeper inside you.

“Jungkook! right there!”

“fuck I love it when you moan my name like that!” he moaned.

“do I make you feel good sweetheart?” he said before sucking on your sweet spot.

Your hands travelled to his muscular back burying your nails into his flesh as they form little crescents.

The burning sensation sending pleasure to the man as he left a love bite in your neck making you sob, your head spinning as your body received pleasure from everywhere.

From his rough hands caressing your sides, his lips doing wonders onto your neck and collarbones, his hips moving more and more harder into yours making you feel like lightheaded.

“I’m close!” you cried out.

Jungkook looked down at you with lust, you looked so ruined.

The man above you bit his lips, the view too attractive, he loved seeing you like this.

You gasped as you felt his fingers travelling down between your bodies to rub on the bud of nerves helping you reach your high easily.

You involuntary tightened around him making him moan loudly.

“I can’t- fuck it I’m close too.” he let out.

He held your hips strongly as he thrust faster and faster.

“I’m gonna put my babies into you f-fuck and make you the mother of my children. You want that my love?” Jungkook said, lust fogging his mind.

Your walls started convulsing around him, your climax nearer.

He held your hands, placing them at each sides of your head as he intertwined his fingers with yours.

You cried out as you came around him.

Your hold tightening his hands, your eyes closed tears escaping from them, the pleasure unbearable.

Your breathless moans pushed him over the edge as he cum inside you.

His hot cum warming you inside, filling you up to the brim.

“you’re gonna look so good with your belly swollen… carrying my child.” he whispered against your sweaty skin.

“I love you y/n.” he laid a gentle kiss on your throat.

“I love you Koo.” you smiled shyly as you caress his soft long curly hair.

After a few minutes, your husband helped cleaning you up and changing before laying next to you.

“thank you.” he suddenly said making you look at him curiously.

“what?”

“thank you for giving me a second chance.. for the bab-” you sat up furrowing your eyebrows.

“don’t you dare continue your sentence or I’ll cut your tits.” you menaced him making him sit up while laughing.

“I’m serious.” you slapped his shoulder.

“don’t say such things. I love you. Just let’s not.. hm? It’s a new chapter of our life now.” you took his hand in yours before laying a sweet kiss on it.

He just nodded looking at you lovingly.

“I’m so lucky to have you as my wife, my best friend. You’re really the best person I’ve ever met. I love you with all my soul.” he confessed in a breath.

You chuckled before hugging him tightly.

“you’re so precious. You’re the best husband ever. I love you more than anything Jungkook. I will always.” you kissed his soft lips making him hummed.

You both looked into each other’s eyes with tired smiles.

“now let’s go to sleep. You almost got me unconscious.” you joked making the man smirk.

“maybe I sh-”

“nah shut up.” you pulled him down with you as you lay your head on his chest comfortably.

“sweet dreams Mr. Jeon.”

“sleep well Mrs. Jeon.” he pecked your forehead before closing his eyes.

──────

A/N: hi hi, thank you so much, if you guys read this, it means that your read until the end so thank you a lot. I hope i didn’t disappoint. Please don’t hesitate to leave feedbacks! If you want to be added or removed from the taglist just let me know. Love you guys. I’ll prob post the next part next week :)

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