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#forgot i never posted this here oops

juriyuna · 5 months

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I wanna know what Ao's game plan was here. I get that she took the Bat prisoner because she didn't have the guts to kill her, but like... This scene comes immediately after the Bat threatened to take Ao's gang by force and almost beat the shit out of her down an alleyway-- a fate that Ao only avoided because Hikaru happened to be in the right place at the right time. And that's not getting into their history in Monzenbashi, where Ao was regularly bled for grief seeds and had to watch the Bat kill a couple of her friends right in front of her. She's well aware of how cruel and vindictive the Bat can be, and that the Bat holds grudges (she's still got a chip on her shoulder about Juri).

By locking the Bat up rather than killing her, Ao would have known that she was only delaying the inevitable. She's still gonna have to deal with the Bat eventually. Someone that shrewd and selfish isn't going to be like "Oh, never mind, the war's over; guess I'll just go home and stop hurting people", nor is she going to let bygones be bygones-- and honestly, given how the Bat reacts to Ao back-talking her or attempting to fight back, she definitely wouldn't let Ao get off scot-free for holding power over her like this.

Was Ao hoping that the Bat would have a change of heart once there was no longer a need to exploit other magical girls for grief seeds? Did she think she could somehow reform the Bat later? Did she expect another Janomiya member to kill the Bat in her stead, so that the blood wouldn't technically be on her own hands? Did she simply not think that far ahead, and was only trying to buy herself and her gang some time? How many times did Ao tell herself "I left the Bat alive, but I know I'm brave enough to kill her if I need to", hoping that one day she could believe it? There are a number of different angles you can take here, and all of them have some interesting implications about Ao's mindset.

(also i love how ao's surprised pikachu reaction to getting jumped by the bat in janomiya's base later means that she must've forgotten that she took the bat prisoner. she's trying so hard to be the Tough Cunning Assassin type, but she's still only 14 years old.)

#this was supposed to be a shorter post. oops #magia record #kasane ao #bat of monzenbashi #hc post #ao thought this was going to be a 1v1 fight with ranka so she totally just. forgot about the bat #tbf hikaru seemed to have forgotten as well since she was like >:O RANKA YOU COWARD #ranka was like ''i just said i was gonna come here by myself. i never promised that i was gonna Fight by myself :^)''

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ohmyeyesmyeyes · 1 year

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everyone's a ferrari fan

fc: eileen gu

charles leclerc x professional skier - social media au

warnings: swearing

liked by redbullracing, lauraharrier and 672,976 others

ynofficial: completed sponsor duties and broke three hearts in the process 💔💔💔 i apologise to those affected

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fan1: danny? scotty? WHO IS THE THIRD????

chloestroll: me

scottyjames31: don't throw off the trail i want to see where this goes

fan2: the full circle has been complete

fan3: chloe🤝yn🤝scotty🤝danny

fan4: my multiverse of madness

danielricciardo: traitor

scottyjames31: she most certainly is

ynofficial: 🕵️

liked by lance_stroll, jginorton and 621,972 others

ynofficial: scottyjames31, danielricciardo this you??

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danielricciardo: well...you caught me there

scottyjames31: oops

fan5: babe who was the third person you were on about?????

fan6: honestly i'm here for the mclaren slander

liked by ynofficial

landonorris: erm excuse me??

ynofficial: you're excused

charles_leclerc: but who do you actually support?

danielricciardo: i actually would like to know this 👀

chloestroll: me too 👀

pierregasly: me three 👀

liked by charles_leclerc, shaunwhite and 72,859 others

scottyjames31: holy fuck us snow siblings had a great weekend

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fan8: what did you do for her to lowkey look that annoyed?

danielricciardo: wdym that’s her normal face

ynofficial: 🖕🏻

scottyjames31: i told her to imagine a certain someone naked

chloestroll: i apologise ynofficial

scottyjames31: she told me she didn’t have to imagine it

danielricciardo: 😧😧

chloestroll: never mind then

fan9: WHO WHAT WHEN JAYYDHW

fan10: IS THIS CONFIRMATION

ynofficial: guess so

ynofficial: BUT CONGRATULATIONS SNOW BRO!!!

scottyjames31: CONGRATS SNOW SISTER!!!

charles_leclerc: you guys killed it!

liked by ynofficial and scottyjames31

liked by danielricciardo, ynofficial and 87,815 others

scottyjames31: i see you, ynofficial, and i embrace it. you do not intimidate me.

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danielricciardo: probably my favourite delivery that i've ever done

ynofficial: but what about the goat?

danielricciardo: ok i take it back

fan11: GUYS WHAT GOAT

chloestroll: trust me, you don't want to know

fan12: ok but the snow siblings' sense of humour>>>

scottyjames31: it's genetic.

ynofficial: and i'm the funniest

danielricciardo: i agree with ynofficial

scottyjames31: you'll find the divorce papers in the mail shortly

ynofficial: NO YOU CAN'T TAKE MY BROTHER IN LAW FROM ME

lance_stroll: um

ynofficial: not you honey 💚

fan: i'm confused at this family dynamic

liked by ynofficial, pierregasly and 528,916 others

charles_leclerc: late dump from austria ⛷️⛷️

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fan13: late dump?? austria?? you mean where y/n and scotty just competed??

fan14: holy shit i think he does

pierregasly: what do you have a personal photographer now?

charles_leclerc: stop stirring the pot mate 😂😂

fan15: pierre like this comment if charles is hiding something

liked by pierregasly

fan15: you should all know that he liked my comment

tiktok posted by scottyjames31...

comments:

danielricciardo: you forgot to tag ynofficial technically she now has her own source of information...

fan15: DANIEL WHAT

scottyjames31: that's supposed to be a secret 🤫🤫

liked by fan16, pierregasly and 2,285 others

f1tea: charles leclerc spotted this weekend with mystery girl! identity is unknown - feel free to comment any ideas

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fan17: PIERRE??? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE???

fan18: keeping tabs on his bestie

pierregasly: keeping tabs on my bestie indeed

fan19: she kind of looks familiar like i think i ran into her on the grid a few races ago

fan20: am i the only one who thinks that could be scotty and danny's friend?

fan21: BABE 'SCOTTY AND DANNY'S FRIEND' IS MISS Y/N L/N GIVE HER SOME RESPECT

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc and 761,961 others

ynofficial: everyone's a ferrari fan

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fan22: this choice of pictures is unusual like i can't explain it

fan23: babe all this information coming from different sources rn is giving me whiplash are you or are you not dating charles leclerc?????

scottyjames31: see that's just not true

ynofficial: even if they say they're not, they are ferrari fans

scottyjames31: please don't my loyalty is already being pulled in two ways

fan24: not y/n posting both charles and carlos to try and throw us off her scent

fan25: okay there's no way she's not dating charles - scotty's tiktok and then the pap photos??????

liked by pierregasly, chloestroll and 971,925 others

ynofficial: why do people keep asking if i'm dating charles leclerc?

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scottyjames31: sheesh idk i'm scratching my chin trying to come up with something here

danielricciardo: BOMBASTIC SIDE EYE

pierregasly: fun yacht trip?

charles_leclerc: who even is charles leclerc?

fan26: nah you're playing now that's cruel

fan27: THE BACK THE BOAT THE HAND KJBSCVE

liked by ynofficial, scottyjames31 and 751,962 others

charles_leclerc: it's me guys. she broke my heart the day she spent with red bull 💔💔 but we're healing and moving on from that bump in the road. side note: my do i love this woman

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pierregasly: ynofficial give me back my boyfriend

ynofficial: but you already have him on weekends!!!!!!

landonorris: i'm sorry i must have missed something here

danielricciardo: keep up

redbullracing: we lost another trouper to the tifosi 😭

fan28: please they're so fucking hot idk who to look at

fan29: fr i'm torn

fan30: mother and father 🧎🧎

fan31: i'm worried, scotty's being quiet

scottyjames31: i hope you can fight, leclerk

charles_leclerc: i'm under strict instructions not to fall for your bait, lames

danielricciardo: everyone needs to know that the post y/n put on where me and scotty were sat on a porch wearing cowboy gear, y/n had just told us she'd been dating charles for 7 months, and that was 3 months ago

ynofficial: scotty's a little salty rn

scottyjames31: *protective

scottyjames31: actually you deserve each other, you're both unnecessarily dramatic

ynofficial: chloestroll

chloestroll: please scottyjames31 you need to look in the mirror

liked by chloestroll, scottyjames31 and 981,185 others

ynofficial: BUT I LOVE THAT MAN LIKE NOBODY CAN

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scottyjames31: you don't understand my ears were bleeding from how many times you played don't delete the kisses by wolf alice before you met this gorgeous thang

fan31: what does she listen to now?

scottyjames31: taylor swift mostly

fan32: nobody understand me i'm breaking down rn

fan33: y/n in her fan era

fan34: these are quite possibly the most SCRUMDILLYICIOUS pictures of this man that i have EVER seen and i love it so much

pierregasly: charles has entered his wag era

charles_leclerc: and i'm never gonna leave 💪

charles_leclerc: it's a lifestyle, brian

danielricciardo: OH THEY GROW UP SO FAST

fan35: i've lost track of this group of people now

fan36: lance stroll🤝chloe stroll🤝scotty james🤝y/n l/n🤝charles leclerc🤝daniel ricciardo🤝scotty james

#charles leclerc x reader #f1 social media au #charles leclerc social media au

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elibethquin · 3 months

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Happy BDAY TO THEMMMM

Their 4th anniversary:”3

I forgot to post this here oops 🤡 better late than never

#infinity train #infinity train book 2 #jesslake #lake infinity train #jesse cosay #infinitytrain #jessecosay #my art #infinity train lake #*giggles in jesslake*#Happy Anniversary to my favorite blorbos

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oddinary4bts · 10 months

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Love is a Laserquest | choi san

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

☆pairing: gangster!Choi San x female!reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI)

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

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

☆word count: 16.5k

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

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

☆☆☆☆☆

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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holycryptid · 2 months

Text

Tears of Blood

König x AFAB!reader (no pronouns/gendered language).

Explicit content (18+)

Word count: 3.0k

Tags/warnings: unprotected sex, light choking, mentions of murder/blood (look who we’re working with), mentions of ghostsoap (yay!), explicit language, some fluff, dry humping, friends with benefits…? (let me know if anything was missed!)

Summary: König reveals a very compelling detail about himself while you prepare him for tomorrow's deployment—also inspired by this post/ask and bluegiragi’s art <3

Notes: this has been posted on AO3 for over a year and i just straight up forgot to post it here, too…oops

The barracks are eerily quiet after curfew. So quiet, in fact, that a ghost couldn’t even float around without being heard. Sometimes there is one, he’s just not of the conventional sort.

You’ve learned that Soap gladly let’s his room be haunted most nights.

König never says a word about it. If he did, he’d be a hypocrite. Especially now, as he drifts to the door of your room: after curfew.

By now, you know to leave it unlocked for him. You don’t know when it started becoming habit, but it did. A mindless gesture that makes his lips quirk under the hood when he turns the knob and feels the door give in with no resistance.

You’ve grown used to seeing his figure loom in the doorway, but sometimes your brain forgets it’s just him, and your heart instinctually stutters a beat out of fear as you see the shadows from the dim lighting hug around his broad, towering form—just as imposing and threatening even without the gear.

You’ve mentally noted that not everyone that casts their gaze, usually a fearful and watery one, upon him lives to do so again. But you are fortunate. You never let yourself forget what he’s been trained to do—what he does. He doesn’t like to indulge in it much, if at all, and his hesitance to do so makes you think it’s better if you don’t know the complicated details anyway.

KorTac has quite a different reputation than the 141. König helped make sure of that.

You finish folding the rest of your civvies, tucking them away in their small drawer, and toss a look over your shoulder to the man lingering in the doorway. “See any ghosts?” you muse, prompting König to step in and lock the door behind him.

A breathy chuckle fills the room. “Didn’t see anything, but I wish these rooms were soundproof.”

“Oh, no.” You hold a cackle, hand slapped over your mouth as you meet his amused eyes through the rough-edged holes of his hood.

“Well, that’s just Soap for you. Not even Ghost can shut him up, I guess.” You plop onto your bed with a sigh to compose yourself.

You know Soap will indulge you later.

“So, how may I be of service to the king?” You offer a playful smile as he stands at the foot of your bed. The unexpected nickname making him more interested in the flooring.

He brings a finger up to the black hood, hooking it in by his jaw and pulling to reveal a sizeable gash in the fabric. A close call with a knife if you ever saw one. “Needle and thread.”

He unhooks his finger and drags the worn material off of his head, then the plain black balaclava that hides him further under it follows. He drops both onto your clean sheets in front of him, rounding the corner of the bed and joining you.

Dark red hair flops over his forehead and hangs in thick, wavy strands. It hasn’t quite reached his shoulders yet, but it’s long enough to have a mind of its own. It’s a colour you don’t come across too often; maybe comparable to a chestnut, or old leaves in autumn before they disappear under a blanket of snow.

“Jeez, you ever gonna cut this?” You turn to face him and run a hand up the back of his neck, tangling your fingers in the dense locks and lightly scratching his scalp on the way down.

Soft blue eyes glance to you, still outlined in black from earlier. “Probably not. Can’t find the time.” His accent gently rounds out the vowels as he leans into your touch.

“Let me braid it for you, then. To hold it back. I know you deploy again tomorrow.” You tuck a strand behind his ear, following with a fleeting kiss right above his cheekbone. A faint blush creeps over his temples and the barely-there freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks.

“I promise it won’t be the worst thing ever,” you gently plead. “You can mend your hood in peace while I do it?”

You’ve definitely done worse together. But worse always seems to be easier.

“Okay.”

Usually these nights don’t go like this.

3 days ago

“Oh, that’s good—right there. Yeah. Yeah,” you nearly sob. König holds you against him, left arm reaching across your chest and hand comfortably gripping your throat as you try to roll your hips back against him harder.

His other hand is between your thighs—on your clit—which are dangling over his own to keep you spread. You’re trapped there; under his arms and over his legs as he jerks his hips up to meet your disjointed riding on the rickety office chair.

An empty briefing room. Not really smart, but Soap passed on that it was “out of service” until next week, not knowing that you’d end up in there sat on König’s cock later that afternoon.

The fabric of König’s hood rubs uncomfortably against your cheek, making you drop your head back onto his shoulder to escape it.

A breathy moan rushes past his lips as you arch your back. “No, no. You’re staying right here.” He tightens and corrects the grip he has across your chest, sliding his gloved fingers up under your jaw to keep you locked in place.

His cock slides itself in and out of you with little resistance, which would usually be slightly embarrassing if it was anyone else inside you, but the way he’s been massaging your clit with such attentiveness and grinding his hips into yours makes you forget anything you could be worried about.

The only thing you can think of right now is how good this orgasm is going to be.

Your hands snake themselves up his arm that’s pinned to your front to grip his wrist, holding on for dear life as his small thrusts become rougher. “You get much, much wetter when you’re close,” he observes. His index finger holds a steady rhythm on your clit as it works counterclockwise over you. “Fuck, I can hear it…can you?”

A whine bubbles in your throat. The zipper of his cargo pants bites against your ass on every downstroke, and you can feel how wet you’ve made the front of his pants. That’s what he gets for only caring enough to pull his cock out while he ripped your cargos off entirely.

“I—fuck. Yes, I’m close, yes,” you choke out, daring to cast your gaze upon where your bodies are connected.

You’re swollen and slick and you can hear it, too. The quick, sharp slaps of his hips against your ass does little to hide the hungry squelching of your cunt. You’ve probably dripped all down his balls at this point. He’s always happier with a big mess in the end anyway.

“Cum when you’ve had enough, Schatzi,” he chirps in your ear, breathless and lost in the wet, suffocating warmth of you—all his doing, of course. The result of far too many minutes spent with his thick cock gently sliding between your folds and nudging itself over your throbbing clit, just to be annoying, before he moved you both to the chair.

You drag in a heavy breath, focusing on the stretch of his cock deep inside your walls as the chair creaks with every desperate drop onto him.

Schatzi. “W-what does that mean?”

You’ve naturally picked up a few German words and phrases here and there from time spent with him, but this one was new. A term of endearment? A degrading nickname? Either could be possible in this moment. The sound and pronunciation couldn’t be more ambiguous to you.

“König?” It came out as a whisper, quickly silenced by the release of your orgasm throughout your body as he forces you down to the base of his cock.

—

You haven’t brought it up since. Neither has he.

Even now it sits in the back of your mind as you divide his hair down the middle into two parts. You remain on your bed, he sits on the floor between your knees with a needle and black thread in hand that he retrieved from the bedside table (stashed there specifically for him).

He lays the hood over his left arm and begins to stitch it quietly as you wind three generous strands of his hair between your fingers at the front of his scalp, pulling taught at the root. You carefully thread more hair in from the sides to have it lay perfectly against the top of his skull when finished. You’ll do a matching one on the right side.

“Let me know if it hurts at all,” you warn as you begin tugging more hair into place.

“Ha, I’ve faced adversaries far worse than your little hands,” he laughs, adjusting the hood in his hand as he pokes the needle in again.

The long vermillion markings under the eye sockets stare back at you over his shoulder. “Yeah, I don’t doubt that.”

It’s hard to not be curious about all of the parts that make up “König”. The mask is one of them.

“Why the tears?” you ask confidently while you establish the first braid.

“Hm?” He quirks his head to follow your voice, pausing the followthrough with the thread as you give an accidental yank to his hair.

“Your mask…under the eyes. Why tears?” You figured it was either something symbolic or just his personal taste. Everyone’s got a gimmick.

It seems like every aspect of his existence is a test of one’s curiosity, and you may have just failed.

He focuses his attention back on the stitch he was occupied with. “Fear tactic.” Oh.

Short and sweet. Simple and straightforward. It makes sense—

“I make them with the blood of my targets.” Oh.

Your fingers lose their rhythm for a moment, caught off-guard by the admission. Not so much surprised by the fact that he would do something like that, but rather that he confessed such a thing…to you.

“So you do that…presently?” How could you resist following up about that? It’s the perfect snare. This is the most you’ve gotten from him in weeks.

A beat of measured silence, yet it’s not uncomfortable. He likes to think about what to say, how to say it, before speaking his thoughts spontaneously.

“Only if I believe it’s truly deserved,” he explains. His tone doesn’t reveal if he’s displeased with the topic of work. “The blood actually doesn’t hold up against the black on its own, so Horangi suggested using bleach underneath so it will show better. If needed.” He runs a finger over a washed-out tear track. “Less maintenance with the chemical.”

It’s…it’s morbid, obviously, but you’re not sure if you expected anything less from someone in this line of work. And, of course, leave it to Horangi to feed the fantasy. They are nearly inseparable, besides the times that König’s with you.

Sometimes it’s hard to imagine him as murderous or malevolent—König, who has the most gentle, innocent blue eyes that have offered nothing but kindness to you, even in moments of fierce, consuming pleasure. König, who you’ve never seen, or heard, raise his voice at anyone in anger. König, who despises small talk because he can’t stand the awkwardness.

König, who enjoys the vibrant red sunsets on base and thunderstorms. König, who prefers blueberries over strawberries. König, who is obsessed with entomology books.

But there’s still another part of him that can take out entire platoons of enemies and have no more than a rip in his beloved hood afterwards.

The man under the facade of a callsign and reputation is someone who you may never truly meet, no matter how much he reveals. It feels like you’ve only met half of him despite knowing as much as you do about him, and that fact has settled as an ache in your chest.

“I see…I know it’s not really my place to ask about that stuff, but it’s hard to not wonder about you sometimes.” You’ve reached the end of the first braid, leaving the tail to sit at the crown of his head amongst the uneven layers he has going on.

You tie it off with a small black elastic. It’s a little messy considering the awkward length of his hair, but it looks like it’s meant to be there.

“It’s fine. I’m a big boy, I think I can handle it.” He gives a comforting laugh, amused at your timidness.

In every facet, he’s right. You can’t help but nod your head in agreement with a small smile, despite the fact that he can’t see your expression. “Well, I can’t disagree with you there.”

You begin the start of the second, and final, braid, grabbing the three strands at the front and twisting them into place as he speaks again. “I know it was my size that drew you to me in the first place,” he states confidently, shoulders shaking in amusement at the tease.

Your mouth gapes in feigned offence. “Wow, okay. Is that a crime?”

“No, not in my eyes. Look, look,” he brushes past the sarcasm, holding and stretching the now intact hood out in front of him to see the effectiveness of his handiwork. The seam is near invisible in the sea of black fabric (a ratty t-shirt).

It’s definitely better than the last one he did a few weeks ago. “Damn, that’s pretty fucking impressive. I’m almost done, hold on.” You hurry to tie off the hair, gently holding the sides of his head to see how even they came out. “Looks good, from up here at least. Come sit, let me see the front.” You pat one of his shoulders, freeing him from the cage of your legs and scooting further onto your bed.

“Danke. My spine didn’t love that, though,” he says with a theatric exhale.

He folds the hood in his lap, setting it on the bedside table with the needle and roll of thread. He all but tumbles back onto the soft sheets, groaning as he stretches his neck and shoulders out and lays comfortably on his back, long legs hanging over the side of the mattress.

His eyes flutter shut from the homely feeling of being in—or on—your bed. “Mm, I think I’ll stay here tonight.”

You acknowledge his thought with a small hum as you lean over his restful form to quickly assess his hair, dragging your fingertips along each side lightly. The shaggy hair will always suit him. It frames his cheekbones and jaw perfectly.

König opens his eyes at your touch. “So how does it look, doc? Will I survive deployment now?”

Another smile from you with a slight roll of your eyes. “I think it’ll do the job. Now go clean the black off your eyes if you’re staying. I don’t want it all over my pillows again.”

—

Soap saw the braids in König’s hair the next day before they deployed. An accident or purposefully, you’re not sure yet.

And now, two days later, he still won’t shut the fuck up about it.

“Would ye do that for me?” he asks, playfully quirking a thick brow.

“Probably not, no.”

An arm shoots out accusingly at you in disbelief. “That’s my point! I—”

“Wouldn’t be able to anyway with that fucking landing strip you call a mohawk.” You poorly stifle a laugh with a tight-lipped smirk.

“Away n’ bile yer heid, I’m just trying to help!” He rubs a hand over his eyes, trying to stave off his laughter too. It’s hard to be in his presence and not be overcome with a state of lively energy.

You’re in Soap’s—and sometimes Ghost’s—room, for no real reason other than company while König is at a (delayed) briefing.

Soap’s sitting on his—and sometimes Ghost’s—bed hounding you about the complex being that is König just because he can. You move about the room, finding things to tidy and organize to busy your mind.

“Have ye gone to town on each other yet?”

“Dude!?” You rip a pillow from under him and whack his head. Hard. His infectious cackling now muffled through the thick pillow.

“You’re insufferable. How the fuck does Ghost put up with you?” You try to suppress your giggling as you drop the pillow and join him on the bed in defeat.

A mischievous grin lines his lips at the question. “Well, he t—”

“No! No. Nope. I don’t need to know. It was rhetorical.” You hold up a hand to silence him, bringing it to cover his mouth. His day-old scruff pricks your palm as he tries to talk through your hand.

“Whatever you say next better be insightful or profound or else I’m gonna suffocate you with your own pillow.”

Soap, in fact, didn’t have anything insightful or profound to say about the situation.

—

König wanders into your room again that night, and he’s filled with a gluttonous desire to consume you in any way that he can.

It’s the least he can do for you. It’s the most you can do for him.

You rut against his clothed cock, straddling his hips tightly while your hands keep a death-grip on his hair. Once again, you find yourself on your bed with him under you, the clock on the bedside table glaring the angry red 12:56am.

His large hands have found their home on your ass, encouraging your pussy—still covered by your underwear—to rock harder over his length, which is still trapped in his briefs.

He breaks away from your mouth when you give a rather forceful roll over him, a surprised gasp slipping through his now rosy lips. His grip on your ass slides down to your quivering thighs, rubbing over them soothingly as you work.

A harmony of softs whines and rough groans dance around the room as your pliant bodies move together. “This is somehow better than sex,” König mumbles, mostly to himself. “I don’t want to admit it, but I can cum like this if you don’t stop,” he adds with an overwhelmed huff. “Fuck, I will cum like this if you don’t stop,” he moans.

You let him, and he holds you tight as if you were something other than casual.

#konig x reader #könig x reader #könig mw2 #könig smut #call of duty smut #call of duty x reader #call of duty imagine #call of duty fic #könig imagine #konig smut #konig cod #konig imagine #konig x you #konig x reader smut #konig x you smut

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kunigmis · 1 year

Text

gross and grimy

bachira meguru x female!reader

synopsis: your belongings seem to be going missing; day-to-day necessities and even your panties! you’re so confused, but your old classmate bachira is here to help!

content warnings: minors do not interact! all characters are in their 20s, depictions of stalking(?) mentioned once, a sort of non-con, usage of the petname baby, heavy petting, fingering, bachira is handsy and nasty and a thief, implied public and unprotected sex.

notes: this turned out to be longer than expected and not what i expected ꒰ᵕ༚ᵕ⑅꒱ kind of lost sight of what i was writing too, oops. this came out to be 2k words?? this was also heavily inspired by this previous post <3

WHEN YOU FIRST NOTICE your things going missing, you think you just happen to be misplacing them. you tended to do that, always putting something one place, only for it to end up nowhere near said place the next time. you laughed it off, it was just habit at this point. besides, you found whatever it was you needed either way.

you figured you forgot them, your panties, in your laundry basket before taking them to the washer. you’ve found they get a bit staticky, sticking to whatever they could. you’d just snatch them up once they were found and wash them with the next batch.

but, then they started to not be stuck to things. didn’t you last find them stuck to your coat last week? they were pink and you had worn them just for the new day that week, tossing your dirty clothes over your shoulder to go and shower. yet, now they seemed to be up and running away.

the amount you had began to dwindle, from at least twenty pairs down to fifteen. sure, maybe you didn’t need so many, but there was a thing called a sale and who wouldn’t go for five panties for twenty-five?

however, it wasn’t just your panties either. you began to notice your day-to-day items began to disappear, too. your chapstick that was stood on your nightstand wasn’t there when you reached to apply the moisturizing balm to your lips. your hairbrush couldn’t have possibly grown legs and scampered off, right? but, it wasn’t on your dresser when your hair was in dire need of a detangling. even your jewelry! your rings, necklaces, bracelets, and earrings weren’t neatly passed on your jewelry dish anymore. things were beginning to get weird, but you truly believed it was just silly misplacing; maybe your memory was going bad?

when the topic was brought up to your friends, they just laughed it off! “i do that all the time,” one would complain, squawking about how common misplacing things was. “but, i’d find it if i actually looked for it. maybe try retracing your steps?”

you tried that. it didn’t seem to work. at one point, you decided to give up; some of the things could go for being replaced, anyway. spoil yourself a little, no?

it got to the point you started labeling places where you’d set certain things. maybe being organized would help with your predicament; it was worth a shot, anything to keep your items from being nowhere to be found. you only hoped it worked.

“maybe you’ve got little creatures within your walls?”

when your old schoolmate speaks, you only snort. his child-like suggestion seems otherworldly, like an attempt at lightening the air, however it doesn’t seem to work. so, now you’re even more frustrated; shaking your head, taking some of your hair and winding it around your fingers. it’s an anxious habit. “bachira, that’s not helping.”

the said male shrugs with a wide grin, sitting rather close to you as the two of you have lunch. you never minded his proximity. he always did this, even back when the two of you were in high school. he was always right there by your side, or you by his, spilling all the beans on the newest drama or him telling you about his upcoming game; and, how he’d like if you would come.

“you can replace all those things anyway, right?” his golden eyes twinkle with underlying mischief, and you can only begin to imagine what they’ve seen—or what he’s done. “i can help you!” he starts to pull out his wallet, a heap of familiar pink beginning to spill out once he does so, preparing to spoil you with an assortment of things before you’re clambering to put your hands overtop his. in doing so, bachira has to bite back a laugh; how did you happen to miss that?

“you’re sweet, bachira, really. but, i couldn’t take your money.” you simply smile as you finish and give his hands and wallet a small push, “i can buy my own stuff—“

“but, i want to.” for some reason, when your eyes meets his, you shiver. something in his eyes causes you to really take a look at them, at him, and it has you curling your toes within your shoes. had he always been so assertive? so demanding? so… attractive? it’s like you’re seeing him in a new light, a deep and seductive one.

his eyes practically scream let me spoil you. bachira is a very compelling person. he can have people reeling with the way he speaks; he has a way with his tongue, ways you don’t even know about, and you’re just now beginning to fall victim to the pink muscle.

so, you meekly nod and smile in agreement. you feel an odd sense of enjoyment when bachira’s face lights up. when his hands go to shove his wallet back into his pocket, his fingers toy with the, your, panties he hides in a sick game.

“i-i don’t think we should be doing this…”

when you agreed to let bachira buy you the items you needed replacing, you expected a certain amount of things to be off the table; like, buying your panties for instance. you didn’t think he would take you to get them, you remembered him blushing at the mere mention of bikinis back in high school. so, to see bachira eagerly pulling you into a frilly and sensual store like victoria’s secret, you began to wonder just how much he’s changed; and, how little you’ve noticed.

he began to shuffle through the assortment of drawers, not even needing to ask your size, which you should’ve taken note of, before he’s snatching up pair after pair to have you try on.

i like this one, and this one. oh, this one, too! not even you get as excited when shopping for new panties. you like to do it, sure—find a cute laced up pair to take into the changing rooms, having a small modeling shoot for yourself. but, the black and yellow-haired male is having a blast. he even snatched up some bras; which, he didn’t even dabble on the idea of asking your cup size.

and, when he was all done, arms full of the lingerie, you reached your hands out in hopes of taking the load off his hands. but, bachira pouts, giving you a playful whine, i want to see you try them on… and, oh god, you about lost your footing at how weak your knees went.

this lead to where the two of you stand now; your back pressed to bachira’s chest as he helps you shimmy a pair of panties up your legs. you’re so exposed right now, every nook and cranny of you is on display for bachira’s eyes to eat you up. he practically creamed his pants when you gave in earlier, voice all low and quiet, somewhat puppy-like sounding. if he knew any better, he would’ve thought you wanted this just as he did.

“don’t feel shy now, baby,” you gasp at the petname, bachira’s breath hot and on your ear as he watches you through the mirror. it had gotten steamy in the changing room, the mirror slightly fogged up and you’re feeling every bit of sexual tension there is in the air. “we’re just getting started.”

bachira isn’t shy in how handsy he becomes. once a new pair of panties is on, his hands are sliding up and down your sides, trickling down to grope at your thighs. his fingers are long and thick and span over your thighs so nicely; he runs his nails along your skin every once in a while, electing small noises from you that can’t be described as anything else but needy. you’re even shocked at how desperate they come off as.

but, you remember where the two of you are, and it dawns on you how bad it would be if the two of you were to be caught. so, you bite your lip, suppressing your sounds ever so slightly. bachira doesn’t seem to like that though, no; he wants to hear the voice of the woman he’s yearned for for ages now.

“baby, don’t hide them,” his words have a dual meaning, referring to the noises you swallow and the hardened nipples your arms hide from his devious eyes. one of bachira’s hands comes and moves your arms, cupping each of your tits thoroughly before moving on to twist and pinch at your nipples.

you melt in his touch, ass pressing against his hard-on and you’re too lost in the moment to be ashamed by how you grind into him. your eyes meet his in the mirror and you jump as his finger gives your nipple a particularly hard tug. “b-bachira.”

“meguru.” when he insists on you calling him by his given name, your eyes roll and a loud moan slips out. you’re quick to cover your mouth, hearing bachira’s maniacal laughter in your ear before his tongue is sweeping out to give it a messy makeout, “you’re so cute.”

you’ve been so busy watching bachira eye-fuck you that you hadn’t noticed his fingers dipping past your panties. but, when two digits dip into your folds to gather your slick, you’re all too aware how exposed the two of you are. “w-wait, meguru—ah!”

a thick finger cuts you off, sliding into your pussy with ease at how slick you are. the noises are downright embarrassing, the way your cunt eats up his finger makes you want to curl into yourself and hide from his big eyes. bachira isn’t having any of that, though, and uses his other hand to keep your gaze locked on where his finger teases you. “look baby, look at how wet i make you.”

bachira kisses your neck once he has it craned just enough, the hand locked around your jaw moves to press two fingers to your lips. you part them willingly, tongue lolling out to wet them before wrapping your lips around them. you suck obediently and bachira moans into your neck.

“such a good girl, fuck,” his words are mumbled into your neck, the bruises his mouth leaves behind big and purple and noticeable; his tongue sweeps out to pamper the aching patches, but he never ceases to lay more as he travels down your neck. “want t’ fuck you s’bad, tired of watching you do it yourself…”

you’re not sure what he means, but it goes over your head as your thighs clench around bachira’s hand. two fingers now stretch you open, curling into your gummy insides as you moan around bachira’s fingers. they press on to your tongue and dip into the back of your throat, causing you to gag and a hand to come clutch his wrist. even with you being seemingly distraught, the male doesn’t let up. if anything, it spurs him on; fingers working faster and harder, the dick pressed into the soft globes of your ass only becomes more apparent as it ruts into you for friction.

“let me fuck you, yeah?” bachira bites at your shoulder, tongue warming your skin only to leave it cooled when the saliva left behind meets the air. your eyes water as your neck is turned, your lips now free of his fingers just to be met with his wet lips. there’s no clear judgment left within your head, senseless at the mercy of bachira and his hands and tongue. you never knew he was like this, like a rabbit in need of fucking, but you can’t complain with the tongue that’s down your throat.

by the time an employee comes and knocks on your door, worriedly asking if everything was alright, you’re so drunk off pleasure, off bachira, that you don’t notice the way his free hand comes and slides his sweats and boxers down to have his dick spring free. he gives it a good few pumps, watching the pre wet your ass before he’s sliding it down to line up with your entrance, “oh, she’s more than alright.”

#ੈ✩‧₊˚ ── nine #bachira meguru #bachira meguru x reader #bachira x reader #bachira meguru smut #bachira smut #blue lock smut #bllk smut #blue lock #blue lock imagines #bachira i want to be manhandled

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songbirdofthenight · 1 day

Text

Soft Eddie Blurb

Author's note- this was meant to be like 5 lines of text and its more than that oops..

18+ MDNI Eddie x Fem!reader

Warnings- Smut, somonophilia, fingering, dry (???? probably not) humping, finger suckings, pet names (good girl, honey, sweets, baby…)- please let me know if I forgot anything! Join my taglist: https://forms.gle/7BZnQs5r36bfbTQg7 Feel free to tip! Kofi linked here: https://ko-fi.com/songbirdofthenight post divider by reverieresources

Thinking about soft!Eddie pulling you closer as you wake up. His hands hold you gently as you come back from your dreams. Eddie peppering kisses on your shoulders and neck as you hum and curl into him.

“Morning, sweetheart.”

“Hi baby.” “Was thinkin’,” “Yeah?”

“Thinkin’ bout kissing you all over,”

You hum in response.

“Gonna let me feel you baby? Let me wake you up, yeah?”

“Mhm, go ahead Teddie.” Eddie kissed your skin, shifting you gently onto your back. He pulled himself on top of you, sliding his hands under his oversized shirt you slept in. Eddie sat with a knee resting between your legs and the other planted firmly beside you. His calloused fingertips traced over your delicate frame. Eddie kissed you oh so carefully, his lips softly soothing yours. His fingertips brushed across the plush of your hips, slipping into the waistband of your panties. His knee nudged your crotch, feeling the wet patch just barely there.

“Gettin’ wet f’me aren’t ya?” He smiled as he leaned into your neck. Eddie’s lips were rough and slightly chapped against your neck as he created a constellation of marks on your skin. His hot breath caught your ear “be so good f’me, let me have you?”

“Mhm,” it practically came out as a moan. Your sleepy haze was quickly being replaced with that of dizzy pleasure. Without much thought, you were grinding against his knee. The wet patch on your panties doubling in size as he continued sucking at your neck. Eddie, clad only in a tight pair of boxers, straddled your leg, humping your bare thigh in rhythm with the kisses he plastered on your neck.

“Eds,” you huffed out.

“Right here baby,” he hummed back. Eddie’s fingers grew curious, one hand remained planted on your hip, the other sliding across your waist, fingers dipping between your folds. He took time to rub soft circles against your clit as you built pressure pushing further against his knee. “Feels good baby?” “So good, Teddie,” you moaned back. The last few bubbles of sleep collided with your pleasure filled haze as Eddie slipped two fingers into your sopping cunt. His movements were rhythmic, almost songlike as he pumped in and out of you.

He’s always careful with you, never pushing your boundaries or doing too much. It was always just right. Eddie was quite skilled with his fingers. You often watched him practice guitar, paying close attention to the movement of his fingertips on the frets as they tapped away at whatever melody he decided to spontaneously learn.

His fingers reached the soft, spongy spot inside you with perfect tension causing an arch in your back. He worked with such precision and care, watching as you arched with his movements. Your head nodded vigorously crying out to him. “Uh huh, uh huh, right there don’t stop” spilled from your lips like honey. You were dangerously close to the edge, his pace became quicker. Eddie hadn’t paid much attention to himself, barely noticing the tent in his boxers. His cock stirred as he watched you writhe beneath his touch. His movements became rash, rocking against your leg as you fucked his. The coil in your stomach was round so tight as he pressed harder and harder bringing you over the edge. You babbled a mixture of ‘cumming’ and slew of curses as your orgasm erupted over your body. Eddie’s coo’s were distant as you floated through the feeling.

“Such a good girl for me,” he sang, “that’s it baby just like that, let go for me.” Your pussy pulsed around his drenched fingers as your high slowly subsided. You relaxed with a few heavy breaths. Eddie’s movements stopped as you came down from your high. You groaned as he pulled his fingers out, eyes opening to see him slide them into his mouth. “Taste’s soooo good honey, so sweet f’me.”

You blushed. Eddie removed his fingers holding them to your lips. “C’mon, you gotta taste baby,” he tapped your bottom lip. Your lips popped open for him to slide his fingers across your tongue. You could taste yourself and him, tongue swirling around his fingers. Eddie kept a soft rock on your thigh as you sucked his fingers. The tent in his boxers only becoming harder to ignore. “Keep going like that and I’m gonna cum in my pants sweets,” Eddie warned, stealing his fingers from your lips. “You awake now?” He hummed, “uh huh” you mumbled softly, just barely conscious.

Eddie shook his head, “I don’t think you are honey, you gonna let me fuck you now? Let me wake you up real good?” He begged. Your legs spread wider exposing your drooling pussy, “wake me up Eds, need you so bad.” Tags: @Micheledawn1975 @ali-r3n @sataniicsex @luumunson @roxiehorrorshow @Jenniquinn @TLClick73 @myanxietyishigh Leave a tip! https://ko-fi.com/songbirdofthenight

#songbird humming #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie smut #eddie fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson smut #eddie musnon x reader smut

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 11 months

Note

Chad defending you from a guy who touched his girl at halloween party. I love protective boyfriend chad!

This was in my drafts and I forgot to post it...oops

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Chad wasn’t the jealous type. He was protective and liked to show others that you were together in every small way possible — wearing his Blackmore hoodie on game days, having subtle matching things like shirts or jewelry, setting a cute selfie of you two as his phone background, resting his hand on a part of your body in casual intimacy —, but he never shouted at Ethan for giving you a friendly hug or sent any threatening glares at Trevor, the guy that worked with you at the library.

‘’You’re staying with me all night tonight. I’m not letting you out of my sight,’’ Chad declared as you walked to the frat house the Halloween party was at, struggling to take his eyes off you in your cowgirl costume.

Getting matching costumes was cringy according to Mindy, but you and Chad decided to ignore her. It was cute and reminded people that you were together. Quinn had helped you with your costume, letting you borrow a shirt from her closet to match with your cow print skirt and cowboy boots.

‘’I could say the same about you. You’re not even wearing a shirt! You’re flashing those abs and muscles to everyone.’’ You ran your hand over his toned chest, catching yourself smiling knowing it was all yours to touch and kiss and lick. ‘’Just last week at your game, I caught three girls gawking at you. I was wearing your jersey with your damn name on it. Was it not clear enough that you were already taken?’’

‘’Y/N’s right,’’ Tara chimed, catching up behind you in her pirate costume. ‘’Those college girls are worse than high school ones. They don’t care if a guy has a girlfriend, they’ll still flirt and try to get in their pants.’’

‘’I’m not stupid enough to fall for their shit though,’’ Chad reassured you, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you in.

You hugged him back, feeling lucky to have a faithful man.

Half an hour after arriving, Chad finally agreed to let you wander around. Although it sounded like that, you didn’t need his permission. You just wanted Chad to understand that you would be alright on your own.

‘’Don't accept drinks from anyone and don’t let your cup out of your sight. And don’t drink the punch — you never know what’s in it. So many horrible college stories start with a spiked drink at a party.’’

‘’Yes, dad,’’ you replied, pecking his lips before disappearing among the other party-ers in search of Tara. Maybe she would be down to have some shots with you?

Just two, you told yourself as Tara poured vodka into small shot glasses. Two turned into three, and then you got enrolled into a game of beer-pong with some guys from your film class. You were kicking their asses, throwing the ball skillfully into the cups.

A few meters away, Chad was looking at you proudly. His girl was bruising these guys' masculinity and it was hilarious to see their embarrassed faces. One of them had a very poor aim and knocked a cup down, causing it to spill on the floor. Amateurs.

‘’Come on, Tara, you can do it!’’ you cheered, encouraging the petite brunette.

The shots you had downed earlier were messing with her concentration, but she was determined to get the ball in the last cup.

Unfortunately, she missed.

She pouted and the guys played their turn, getting only one ball. Tara offered to take the drink and you placed yourself in position, but just as you were about to throw the ball, the fake cop put his hand on the small of your back, dangerously close to your ass, and you completely froze. He whispered something in your ear, but you didn’t hear.

All you heard was Chad’s voice when he pulled the guy off you and shoved him against the wall, snapping you out of your frozen state.

On your left, Tara gasped, not expecting such violence from her friend. ‘’Chad!’’

‘’Don’t ever touch my girl like that,’’ he hissed at the guy, the altercation getting a few people’s attention. ‘’Got it?’’

The fake cop laughed, feeling cocky. ‘’Oh, come on! We’re just having fun.’’ He glanced at you and you shifted uncomfortably in your cowgirl costume, still feeling the ghost of the guy’s hand on your ass. His mouth curled into a smirk. ‘’With a perfect little ass like hers, I couldn’t help myse—’’

Utterly disgusted, Chad didn’t let him finish his sentence — he couldn’t — and shoved his fist against the fake cop’s chest to shut him up…which only reeled him more. He shoved Chad back by the shoulders.

As much as you appreciated Chad taking your defense, the situation was escalating and unless you wanted the night to end with a broken nose — for the other guy —, you needed to stop the fight.

You stepped in and grabbed Chad’s arm before he could shove the guy another time, but before you could say anything the fake cop shoved Chad back harder, causing him to stumble back into you. He steadied himself on his feet easily enough and you grabbed the table to stop you from falling.

Tara rushed to your side, asking if you were okay. You nodded.

''Chad, stop!'' you called to him, grabbing his arm with a stronger grip. ''This idiot is not worth your time.'' His jaw was clenched when he finally glanced at you. ''He's just looking for a fight, let's go.''

—

Scream taglist: @misfityanii @beautybyfire @iluvscream191 @mariposa555 @bella7866 @o638 @lulubelle14 @luvvtxinityy @frasersgf @Eddiefrickenmunson @jasperr-the-friendly-ghost @ghostf4cee @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @wandaswigglywoos @xjennyx2 @jennasslut @thatonesblog @mikaelsonsstuff @icarly23 @tcddszn @bt.oliana @skyesthebomb @a1mzcruml3y @red1culous @iluurmom @popeheywardssecretgf

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @marzipaanz @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889

#chad meeks martin #chad meeks martin x reader #chad meeks x reader #chad meeks martin imagine #scream 6 imagines #scream 6

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sophieinwonderland · 4 months

Text

Now, why would you dare me to embarrass you and your pals like that?

I appreciate how you wanted my attention so bad you posted me to not one, but two subreddits.

Makes a girl feel special! 🤣

I have actually never seen Wikipedia cited as a source about endogenic plurality. Though I do see anti-endos all the time, when asked for sources, telling people to just Google things.

Anyway, here's @guardianssystem's document filled with academic papers about endogenic plurality:

I've compiled my own, but honestly, theirs is better organized than mine.

And in the interest of fairness, here are all the anti-endo papers debunking endogenic plurality:

Sorry, I forgot. Those don't exist. Oops. 🤷‍♀️

Echo chamber? LOL!

Weren't you the one spouting a bunch of lies on Tumblr, got totally debunked, posted the people who debunked you to r/systemscringe to have a hugbox where fakeclaimers could assure you how the people who contradicted you are all fakers, and then blocked everyone who disagreed with you?

Weren't you also the one who, when shown a quote from an expert in dissociative disorders who worked on the DSM-5 saying that a disorder isn't a disorder if it doesn't cause distress, argued that the people who defined what disorder are must be wrong about that definition?

You're a misinformation machine who can only find support when huddled in cringe subreddits. Don't try to talk about people in echo chambers.

Also, you know most of psychology is just... listening to people? That's how it's been as long as the field existed. DID (or MPD at the time) was a recognized disorder since long before the first brain scans were conducted on DID patients. It's saying something though when basically every single scientist who has ever researched endogenic plurality has said they believe it's a real thing, or that it could be. While absolutely zero academic papers have expressed that it's fake.

There is also an fMRI study into tulpa systems that's been in the works, but results have yet to be published.

Sure, if that's what you'd like me to call you, Crazy. 😊

Anyway, Crazy, you should know that just because you personally find something scary doesn't mean everyone will or that the thing is bad. Personal preferences are a thing.

In a study of tulpamancers though, most generally reported their lives becoming better after the practice.

78% reported improvements in their mental health, and 91% on overall life.

There are many out there who would jump at the chance to have someone there with them that knows them intimately, and to never have to be alone again.

If it's not for you, then so be it.

But it's certainly not something to be afraid of.

And maybe, for those who are willing to commit to the practice while America struggles with an epidemic of loneliness, it's something worth being open to.

This is actually pretty fair.

But that's now, and I'm looking at course of history and trends of plural acceptance.

300 years ago, any plural would be viewed as demon possessed and end up tortured or killed for their plurality.

70 years ago, all plurality was seen as a mental illness, and it was common to force plurals, as well as anyone else associated with mental illnesses, into asylums.

30 years ago, the first real plural communities were able to connect on the internet and form in small numbers.

8 years ago, the first studies into endogenic plurality started being conducted. 4 years ago, the ICD-11 acknowledged that you could have multiple distinct personality states without a disorder. 2023 marked the first, but certainly not the last, time a system used their system name as an author of an academic paper.

Recently, new plural resources have been designed and put into use. More servers than ever are using Pluralkit. And Simply Plural went from 100k users at the end of 2021 to 210k at the end of 2022.

Progress is happening far more rapidly than you realize. And you had best be ready for it.

BOO! 👻

Oh, hey, I just realized... this is literal pluralphobia!

Liberté!

Egalité!

Fraternité!

And yes, The Future is Plural! 😜

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denalidear · 9 months

Text

Sleepy

a/n: oops. forgot i said i was gonna do this whole thing. well here a little fic i wrote a while back and never posted.

summary: wil is so eepy.

word count: 886

warnings: none?

- - -

It had been a long day for him, you knew. Between streaming, working on new music, and how late the two of you had stayed up the night before; he was tired. So when you asked to cuddle and watch a movie, you had put two and two together to start your master plan. You strategically placed yourself underneath him, his head on your collarbone as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Love I’m going to fall asleep if you keep on playing with my hair.” He warned, adjusting so his arms were tucked well around your torso. He yawned and leaned into you more and you smiled.

“What if I told you that was the point?” You teased, trying to contain your laugh as to not disturb the sleepy boy.

“Then I’d tell you you’d better be comfortable because I won’t be moving once I’m asleep.” He mumbled, now pulling the blanket covering you two further up his shoulders.

“Bring it on, buddy.” You said, turning your attention back to the movie while continuing your ministrations in his hair. Soon enough you felt his weight sink into you, his breath coming out in soft puffs over your neck. He had fallen asleep and your plan was a success.

-----

Wil was a sleepy guy. After the first nap he’d had cuddling with you, he requested more and more. It became a regular occurrence for him to seek you out straight after finishing a stream, only to fall asleep in your arms.

But today, he was determined to prove he didn’t need a nap. You’d dragged him all around London, going to shops and cafes. He played along happily for the first four hours, but after dinner came and went his resolve was sarting to wear thin. He happily carried your tote bag that you’d filled with the goodies you’d acrewed, but he was nearly nodding off as you sat at the station waiting for the next train home.

“Wil.” You tapped his knee, “The announcer said it’d be pulling up soon.”

“Ok.” He nodded, resisting the urge to lean into your shoulder. Soon the train pulled up and you boarded. Wil fought to stay awake as he sunk into the plush of the seat.

“Baby you can sleep on my shoulder.” You said patting his leg to comfort him.

“No, I’m not tired, I promise.” He said quietly. As miuch as you wanted to believe him, not two minuets later his head was on your shoulder and he was snoring away. You couln’t help but smile.

-----

The band said goodnight to the crowd, passing out the set list and spare picks. The main lights came up as the audience began to leave and the band got off stage. Wil came straight up to you, as was post gig tradition, for a kiss and a very sweaty hug.

“You did great, handsome!” You smiled, holding his face between your hands. As you looked into his eyes, you could see the adrenaline slowly leaving his system as his eyelids began to slouch.

“Thanks darling.” He smiled, leaning in for another kiss. You decided it was time for him to go to bed, leaving the venue in favor of the quiet tour bus. He held your hand tight as you lead him to the bunks in the back, speaking quietly about how he thought the concert had gone. You tucked him in like a little kid, teasing him about being a toddler while he laughed.

“But will you cuddle with me?” He said, grabbing your hand before you could pull away.

“Of course, baby.” You smiled, kicking off your shoes and sliding into bed. Would you regret not changing into PJ’s when you woke up? Probably. But this moment was perfect, and you wouldn’t ever pick a shower over sleeping with your boyfriend.

-----

“Chat, guess who just got home from work?” Wil smiled as he looked at the text you had just sent him, confirming you made it safely to his house. He quickly typed back a response, saying he was on stream but that you should come and visit him. He continued speaking to chat before he heard a small knock on the door.

You creeped into his office, dragging your feet after a long day of work. “Hello, love.” Your boyfriend spun around in his chair and st up to greet you. He lifted his arms to invite you onto his lap and into a hug. “How was work?”

“Good. Just tired.” You mumbled into his neck. “You can keep playing. I’ll just cuddle.” He rubbed your back and turned back around to his screen.

“Chat, my darling has had a long day, so she’s a little tired. I’ll finish this up and then we are gonna go to bed.” He smiled, reaching around your body cuddled up to his chest and began to play again.

He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face as your head lulled back and your weight sunk into him. “I think she fell asleep.” He whispered to chat. He looked down at your peaceful face. “Yeah she’s totally out.” He giggled, keeping his voice low.

“That’s my cue to leave, friends. Thanks for tuning in. I’ve got to get my love into bed, poor girl. Good night, everyone.”

#x reader #fanfic #wilbur soot fanfiction #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur x y/n #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot x fem!reader #fanfiction #blurb #fic

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greynatomy · 8 months

Text

sam kerr social media au

completely forgot about this in the drafts. better now than never right?

hope you like it!

-grey

———

2012

liked by caitlinfoord, samanthakerr20 and 24 others

yourinstagram hi instagram. this is me and sammy

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samanthakerr20 hi instagram

↳ yourinstagram <3

caitlinfoord i thought i was gonna be you first post?

↳ samanthakerr20 ha! she loves me more

liked by yourinstagram, hayleyraso and 153 others

samanthakerr20 🙉 & 🐭

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yourinstagram you look so cuddly

↳ samanthakerr20 then why aren’t you cuddling me?

liked by samanthakerr20, caitlinfoord and 220 others

yourinstagram billie doesn't like sam anymore

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samanthakerr20 what you talking bout. he loves me

↳ yourinstagram not during bath times

caitlinfoord poor little baby getting tortured by sammy

liked by yourinstagram, alannakennedy and 311 others

samanthakerr20 Having a little run with the ball #sydneyfc #wleague #blackmagic #hahaha

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yourinstagram sammy loves balls

↳ caitlinfoord she does doesn't she

↳ samanthakerr20 oi! get out of here

↳ yourinstagram you love them too

2017

liked by samanthakerr20, caitlinfoord and 3,394 others

yourinstagram my first single 'strawberry kisses' out now!

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samanthakerr20 woo! congrats!

↳ yourinstagram thank you sammy!

caitlinfoord is this about me?

↳ mackenziearnold no, it's about me

↳ yourinstagram ladies! ladies! there's enough of me to go around

↳ samanthakerr20 there is is there?

liked by sammykay, macattack and 20 others

ynpriv went on a little couples hike after releasing my first song

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sammykay we're such a hot couple

caitycat when are we going to our couple's hike?

↳ ynpriv stop spilling our secrets, we'll get caught

↳ macattack i wanna go on one too

↳ sammykay stop flirting with her she's mine!

2020

liked by caitycat, sammykay and 35 others

ynpriv so we did a thing...

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sammykay finally get to call you mrs. kerr

↳ ynpriv love the sound of that

caitycat WHAT! NO WAY

alannybanany YOU GUYS GOT MARRIED

macattack i thought wed be the ones getting married

↳ ynpriv oh yeahhh! time to get a divorce sammy

↳ sammykay no! you're mine forever and ever

liked by taylorswift, haileesteinfeld and 1,475,294 others

yourinstagram i wrote another album! 'wunder' out now on all platforms

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haileesteinfeld obsessed with electric love!

↳ yourinstagram ohmy! thank you!

taylorswift so excited to listen!

↳ yourinstagram thank you mother!

samanthakerr20 congratulations!

↳ user1 what is sam kerr doing here??

↳ user2 @/user1 they're childhood friends!

↳ yourinstagram thank you sammy!

user3 OBSESSED WITH NONSENSE

liked by sammykay, ynpriv and 35 others

caitycat these are the faces i made when i listened to nonsense for the first time

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ynpriv hehe

sammykay its a really good song

↳ macattack the last part of the song had my jaw on the floor

alannybanany @/ynpriv didn't know you were so scandy

↳ ynpriv what can i say? my wife is hot

↳ caitycat ooohkayyy don't say any more

liked by sammykay, caitycat and 35 others

ynpriv oop

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caitycat IM GONNA BE AN AUNT

↳ macattack I'm gonna be the favorite

↳ caitycat shut up. its gonna be me

↳ alannybanany i'll be godmother

↳ sammykay were gonna play rock paper scissors to choose

2021

liked by ynpriv, caitycat and 35 others

sammykay angel baby

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alannybanany so cute!

macattack we getting a name yet?

↳ sammykay kenzie lynn kerr

↳ macattack no way! really?

↳caitycat is the middle name inspired by my name?

↳ ynpriv @/macattack @/caitycat we gotta name her after our best friends/ sisters

liked by ynpriv, macattack and 35 others

sammykay please stop growing

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ynpriv she's getting so big

caitycat bring baby lynn to practice again

↳ macattack yeah she needs to see her favorite aunty

2023

liked by user1, user2 and 2,483 others

matildasupdates someone asked caitlin what keeps them all going and she said "strawberry kisses by y/n y/ln" love it

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user1 LOVE y/n y/ln

user2 isn't y/n friends with a lot of the matildas

↳ user3 i think she's childhood friends with sam cait mac and alanna

↳ user4 aussie icons. all of them

liked by alannakennedy, caitlinfoord and 307,340 others

samanthakerr20 Thank you for the memories Australia. You allowed us to live out our dream of representing our country on home soil. I hope we have inspired a nation for many years to come ❤️

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stephcatley Straight to the pool room❤️

caitlinfoord ❤️

mackenziearnold Big love Sammy

yourinstagram proud of you girls

↳ samanthakerr20 ❤️❤️❤️

user1 You've inspired and changed the whole nation. Absolute icons. Love you so much 💛💚

liked by caitlinfoord, yourinstagram and 130,847 others

matildas STRAWBERRY KISSES SURPRISE 🍓😘 #Matildas #FIFAWWC #Surprise #StrawberryKisses

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caitlinfoord what an icon

↳ yourinstagram no, you're the icon

↳caitlinfoord aww I'm blushing

↳ samanthakerr20 stop blushing

↳ mackenziearnold someones jelly

user1 its so cool how they're friends with her

user2 we need yn to put sam on a song

↳ user3 fr she got a good voice

liked by user1, user2 and 2,484 others

matildasupdates Caitlin: "[Y/n] said that she wasn't gonna be able to come. A cheeky one she is."

Sam: "Haven't seen her since I left home. So I feel great to have her back with me."

When asked about the surprise of Y/n Y/ln coming onto the stage

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user1 what does sam mean? back with her? left home? WHAT DO YOU MEAN SAMANTHA????

↳ user2 this is giving the vibe that they live together

↳ user3 imagine they've been together this whole time

liked by caitlinfoord, mackenziearnold and 500,298 others

samanthakerr20 glad to be back home with the family ❤️

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ynkerr glad to have you back home!

caitlinfoord WIFEY!!

↳ mackenziearnold she's mine!

↳ samanthakerr20 i'm the one that put a ring on it

↳ ynkerr ladies! there's still a lot of me to go around

↳ samanthakerr20 no.

user1 THEYRE FUCINH MARRIED GUYSS

user2 NO FING WAY IM FREAKING OUTJDKMEKLC

user3 Y/N CHANGED HER USERNAME

↳ user4 STOP THATS SO CUTE IM CRYING

user5 SAMS A MUM

#woso x reader #woso #woso imagines #greynatomy #woso imagine #sam kerr imagines #sam kerr imagine #sam kerr fanfic #sam kerr fanfiction #sam kerr #sam kerr x reader

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thewulf · 1 year

Text

Big Blue World || Joel Miller

Request: Can you do a Joel Miller x Franks Younger sister reader?? I haven't seen any fics with her. Maybe she's a bright ray of sunshine to Joel's grumpiness?... Read rest here

A/N: Wasn't planning on posting this first but inspiration struck and you've gotta take it! Hope you guys enjoy.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Y/N

Word Count: 9.4k+ (Another long one!)

TW: Talk of suicide, general TLOU warnings

One – Seven Years Post Outbreak: The Dinner

The first time you laid eyes on him was only a few years after you and Frank moved in with Bill. It was simple really. Both you and Frank fell into Bill’s trap ditch. You managed to break your ankle on the fall down. Panicked and sure death was in your immanent future you burst out into tears. You weren’t made for this kind of life. This impossibly hard life. You, Frank, and a group of nine others were venturing to the Boston QZ after your home was demolished. You’d been walking for what felt like months, you could really never be too sure.

It didn’t make sense how you of all people were one of the last surviving in the group. Often getting by with just the skin of your teeth your only saving grace being that you were quick. You could run for your life. That, and you had Frank. He was eight years older and the best big brother you could have ever dreamed of. Even pre-outbreak the two of you were thick as thieves plotting to take over the world. He saved your life more times than you could count. You hated it. Being weak and shit. You wanted to be better for Frank. You had to survive with him. He couldn’t do it alone either.

So, when you fell into Bill’s hole and screeched you were just thankful whatever it was would take you both out. Neither having to live in this sick world alone. To your pleasant surprise Bill not only let you stay but he knew how to fix your ankle properly, without having pain in the future. You were sure Bill and Frank fell in love that first night. You didn’t know how that all that worked but you were so happy that your brother found his happiness, his purpose.

Life slowly turned back to a weird fucked up new normal for the three of you. Bill and Frank fell madly in love with each other within a few months. They never excluded you though, making you feel as though you were meant to be here with them. You found it easy to pretend you were back in life pre-outbreak. Finding hobbies around town you got really into knitting and gardening. You just wanted to be seen as useful to Bill. He was kind enough to let you stay so you wanted, needed, to bring something to the table.

You were interrupted from your solace hearing the men arguing at the front of the house. So much for weeding. Being far too curious for your own good you listened in on the two of them as they bickered.

“Oh, fuck you!” Frank yelled rather dramatically.

“Hey! Would you stop?” You knew Bill was rolling his eyes at your brother’s antics. Whatever the hell he could be up to now.

“Do I ask for things ever? Why am I even saying that? This is for me. This is for the three of us!” Your brother yelled. You inched closer dying to know what this blow out was about. The two men could be so damn dramatic when they wanted to be.

“Who cares what they look like?” Bill continued. What the fuck were they on about? You could only wonder as you sat behind the tree near the front listening in.

“I do! Our home isn’t just our house. It’s everything around us!” Frank yelled again throwing his arms up in the air. Oh, he was on the beautification subject again. Frank wanted everything pretty, but Bill never let him. Resource management was key.

“Give me a fuckin’ break.” Bill returned your over dramatic brothers cries. Oops. You knew that was a mistake. Bill always tried to argue but Frank always won.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot. I live in this world. You live in a psycho bunker where 9/11 was an inside job, and the government are all Nazi’s.” Your older brother seemed to calm down even though you knew he was downright mocking Bill.

“The government are all Nazi’s!” He boomed. You couldn’t help but to let out a silent laugh. You agreed with him of course. Frank just knew how to push his buttons.

“Well, yeah, now! But not then!” Frank defended, “I am asking for some paint and some gasoline for the lawn mower. That’s all. I’ll do everything else myself.”

“It is not man-“

Frank interrupted him clearly agitated. You were getting a full-on show now. You hated to admit it, but you loved when they had blow outs. It was your entertainment for the day, “If you say resource management so help me, I will run through one of your trip wires.”

“Okay, okay. Just tell me why.” Bill seemed to reason. Boo. You knew as soon as it calmed down the show was over. It was fun while it lasted. Standing slowly you were going to make your way back to the garden only to hear Frank continue.

“Paying attention to things. It’s how we show love.” You listened in again. What the hell was he talking about now? It sounded like bullshit, “This is my street too. Just let me love it the way I want to. And I’m fixing up some of the shops.”

Ohh, it just got juicy again.

“Woah, woah, woah.”

Frank rolled his eyes, “Not the stupid ones. Just the wine shop, and the furniture store. And the clothing boutique.”

“The boutique? Are we hosting formal garden patties now?”

“No!” Frank couldn’t help but to roll his eyes at the man. That was so like him, “But we are going to have friends.”

“Excuse me.”

“We’re going to make friends and we will invite them to visit.” Oh, hell yeah, this was getting good now. You could use some friends anyway. You prayed Frank won this battle with Bill.

“We don’t have friends Frank. We will never have friends. Because there are no friends to be had. Other than Y/N.” You grinned hearing that last bit thrown in. You loved that he always made sure to include you. You grew on him that’s for sure.

“Well, I’ve actually been talking to a nice woman on the radio.”

“You what?!” He screamed. Oh hell, Frank was in trouble now and he knew it. You watched as he darted to the front door ignoring Bill.

Bill turned right to you shaking his head. Busted, “I know you heard that whole thing. You’re not sneaky.”

You shrugged, “Who said I was trying to be?”

“You and your brother are going to fucking kill me.” He groaned making his way in to talk to Frank.

You only smiled as he departed. Bill had also grown on you.

Next thing you knew you were meeting the nice woman named Tess and her friend Joel. You couldn’t but to take your eyes off the man. He wasn’t like anything you’ve come across in Baltimore and now here. He was so freaking handsome. You hadn’t a clue how to handle it. It’d been years since you talked to another human let alone a beautiful man.

At dinner you made sure to look at anything but him, keeping your eyes locked on either Tess or Frank. Luckily Bill was his usual grumpy self after losing to Frank and kept his gun out and trained on the two strangers. You were so thankful he kept their attention instead of you.

“Can you not, please?” Frank sighed looking over to his boyfriend. You bit you lip trying to stifle the smile that threatening to spill over. They were always bickering. Like an old married couple. They couldn’t even hold it together in front of the guests.

“I’m the same way.” You heard Joel speak for the first time. He seemed to let Tess take the lead most of the time. Thankful you weren’t standing. You were sure your knees would be wobbly. He had that smooth southern drawl with a thick husky bite that’d draw just about anybody in. Fuck. You couldn’t have possibly been this horny to be thinking such things of a literal stranger. You had to reign yourself in quick.

“Oh, you’re a paranoid schizophrenic too?” Frank quickly chided in. You only leaned back rolling your eyes earning a quick glance from the handsome stranger.

“I’m not schizophrenic.” Bill sat there looking between everyone. That killed the whole mood. Great, just wonderful. The first real people you meet, and you’ve all ruined the chances of them coming back already.

Tess cleared her throat interrupting the silence, “Well, can I just say, gun aside, which I get,” She laughed but continued, “how nice this is to have a civilized meal in such a beautiful place? It’s been so long. I mean, I just, uh, I wanna thank you. Even if we don’t end up working together. I really needed this.”

“We are working together.” Frank cheers confidently. You only leaned forward smiling, “We are.” He looked at Bill who only looked horrifically apprehensive about this whole situation. Frank was pushing him beyond his limits.

Before you knew it Frank and Tess were walking inside giddily talking about something they chatted about on the radio. Leaving only you, Bill, and Joel alone. Great, the three mutes. You leaned back waiting. It wasn’t your place. This was for the big dogs, and you certainly weren’t one of them.

“If my uh, if mine brought strangers into our situation I wouldn’t be too happy either. But of all the people you could’ve found on the radio we’re actually decent people.” You leaned back further letting your mind wander as the two of them talked. You only prayed Bill wouldn’t drive him away completely.

You sighed as they left. Bill drove them out. You stayed a couple of feet behind and watched the two conversations unfold. You gave Tess a wave and smile before she was out. Joel didn’t bother turning around as he waved the group off. Leaving you with only a small frown. They’d be back soon enough. You were sure of it.

Two – Eleven Years Post Outbreak: The Supply Run

That familiar voice that you hadn’t heard in so long came from downstairs. Quickly, you ran down the steps to greet the now acquaintance that you wished would show up more often than he did.

“Joel! Tess!” You jumped down the last step only to be greeted with Joel and Bill, “Wait where’s Tess?” Fear ran through you. Did she get infected? Was she gone already? She was Frank’s only friend outside of here.

“Frank just took her to the boutique.” Bill grumbled sitting down in the chair at the dining table.

You let out the breath you were holding, “Good!” You clapped thankful that the worst hadn’t come over your somewhat friend. If you could use that word, “Maybe she’ll pick out some of the clothes I made.” You grinned knowing you just stocked the store up with your latest sweaters and hats. What else were you supposed to do with your time other than make way too much clothing that the three of you would never go through?

“You make clothes?” Joel asked seemingly interested in the conversation.

You beamed just happy he noticed you. He hardly noticed you before, only briefly talking to you each time they had come back. It seemed they stopped about once a year. Tess always giving Frank a heads up on the radio before the made the trek up north.

You wished you could get Joel to see you. But you were just Frank’s little naïve sister. That’s all you ever seemed to be. Not that you blamed him, he was right after all. You really were just Frank’s naïve little sister having way too much optimism for this cold world.

You craved any attention Joel gave you. From the second you laid eyes onto him four years prior and every brief interaction each year since you were entranced by him. He was so strong and composed. Something so opposite of you. Someone so sure of himself every time he came around. And Jesus, look at the man. He was so damn attractive it nearly drove you mad. He only seemed to get more handsome each time he and Tess walked through those gates. You thought about him far too often. Far too often for somebody who saw you as Franks little sister.

“I did and do! There should be some that fit you if you want some yourself?” You gave him a hopeful smile. Maybe he’d accept?

Joel looked somewhat impressed? You couldn’t tell. It wasn’t a look you’ve seen from him before, “Yeah?”

“Mhmm.” You grinned, daring to take a step closer, “Bill’s even modeling my latest collection. Classic springtime.” You waited patiently for him to decide. You weren’t sure how to handle yourself if he decided to come with you. You’d literally dreamed of alone time with Joel and here was a chance at it… you didn’t think you were ready.

Bill huffed turning away. Because of course he did. Earning a brilliant scowl from you. Truth be told he held a lot of love for you in his heart too. Your constant reassurance and optimism grew on him over time, not that he’d ever dream of telling you. He wasn’t mushy. He could hardly handle you in your sober state. In your emotional one? He’d for sure go mad.

As if by a miracle Frank and Tess came barging in giggling about who knows what. Saving you from a too awkward encounter with both grumpy men. You couldn’t help but to smile at the Tess and Frank. They would have been friends’ pre-outbreak too. You could just tell. Two souls that connected so effortlessly.

Joel noticed you watching them. He always noticed. He was always watching you when you weren’t watching him. He couldn’t help it. He was drawn to you, and he was really God damn tired of fighting it. Every time he came, he hoped he wouldn’t run into you. He wanted to but for his sanity’s sake he couldn’t run into you. But you always showed up. With that damn brilliant smile and cheerful greetings. Making him feel way too special. He craved it. He loved it.

“Y/N!” Tess came rushing over to you placing both hands on either of your shoulders, “You made these? These are actually good. They have designs in them and shit. I didn’t really believe Frank when he said you were good at it, but he was right. I’m impressed.”

You shrugged, “Well, when you have all the time in the world.”

That earned a chuckle out of the woman. She seemed so happy and relaxed here. A side Joel rarely saw. A side that was seemingly reserved for you and Frank. It made sense though, both of you were infectious. Both Joel and Tess let their usual stoic guard down around you both.

“Joel. Go now. Y/N will show you.” She ordered. So sure of herself. Something you so deeply admired about the slightly older woman. She lived that life. The rugged one. Yours was so damn peaceful compared to hers. A country club compared to the life she lived.

You nodded towards the door, “Come on, I’ll show you.” Not daring to betray Tess’s orders you nodded for him to hurry up.

He nodded. His mind was made up for him by Tess, “Alright. Lead the way.” He tried to look grumpy. He didn’t know how it was actually paying off though. Because he was way too damn excited to finally be alone with you.

You held the door open waiting for him to join you outside. You led the way a couple of steps in front of him. Tired of the silent walk you had to say something, “How’ve you been holding up Joel?”

He sped up a couple of steps taking that as an invitation to walk beside you. He had no God damn idea of how to act around you. He had a stupid big fat crush on you that Tess, and now Frank, knew about. He was sure that’s why she sent the two of you alone.

It happened slowly for Joel. Initially, he really only did see you as Frank’s little sister. You didn’t do much for him. But over time, over the shortest of visits he slowly started to look forward to seeing you bright shining face. You always greeted him with the happiest of smiles. Like it was the pre-outbreak world, like nothing was wrong. Tess picked up on it over time when he bugged her to visit with supplies. Claiming he needed to see Bill but always brining you up somehow.

Joel knew it was dangerous. Falling for someone in a world like this. Someone like you. You were just too pure for this world. He couldn’t see you outside of these chain link fences. He didn’t want to imagine you trying to survive out there. You didn’t deserve it. You deserved so much more.

“I’m okay. We’re okay. Getting by just fine. Couple supply runs here and there.” His accent came out strong the longer he was away from the QZ. The longer he was able to relax the thicker it came out.

“Good.” You nodded. You too had no idea how to talk to him. Coming from such separate worlds it was like your brain couldn’t fetch the words to converse with him. Which was really bad for you.

“And you?” He offered. He was trying. Something you hadn’t seen from the gruff man. You turned looking at his face as the setting sun seemed to hit all his angles just right. Eyes tracing every feature you soaked everything about him in.

“I’m decent.” You sighed knowing that was a terrible answer. So, you did what you did best and just started talking, “Been busy knitting a store up. Trying some new techniques in the garden I read from a 2001 Farmers Almanac. I think it’s working too. I’ve got a ton of cucumbers. I’ve gotta pickle them or they’ll go bad. Unless you guys want some?” You offered knowing you needed to stop before you babbled far too much. It was either way too much talking or stone-cold silence when it came with you and awkward conversations. And this was incredibly awkward.

He was giving you a different look. A much softer one. One that’s as if he’s seen you for the first time, “We’ll take some. But you’ve gotta pickle the rest. We’ll be back and then I’ll take some pickles. Deal?”

You giggled feeling your cheeks heat up as he kept his eyes locked with yours. You watched as you saw his eyes turn up slightly as small smile formed on his face. You had a feeling this was a very rare occurrence for Joel. Not often finding that smile. And you were right. It was terribly foreign to Joel, but you brought it out. Somehow, some way he felt a little lighter when you were there.

“Deal! We’ll have way too much for us anyway. The garden is getting a bit out of hand, but it keeps me busy.” You stopped pointing towards the building, “Here we are.”

He held his hand out, “Ladies first.”

“Course.” You smiled leading him in, “There should be some stuff over there that you might like. I’ve got some extra stuff in the back if you don’t like any of it.”

He nodded letting himself go and search. You sat back on the countertop that used to contain the cash register.

“You really made these?” You heard him before you saw him.

“The ones without the tags yeah!” You brought your legs up and sat with them crossed beneath you. Simply waiting on him to grab whatever he needed.

Before you knew it, he walked up to you holding a few sweaters and shirts, “Is it alright if I take these?”

You nodded, “Sure. I’ve got plenty more. It only takes a few hours to make these now. I’m afraid I’m going to run out of yarn.”

“I can get you some.” He replied without a hesitation.

“Yeah?”

“Sure. Consider it a trade. Next time I see you I’ll have some. What colors you want?”

You smiled a bright smile to him. You’ve grown so fond over the four years you’ve known each other. But it felt like you’d suddenly broke through to him. Whatever it was you were so thankful. This was a Joel you didn’t know. A Joel you could surely get used to. Even if you only saw him every year or so.

“Pinks and purples. I ran out of those so quick. Didn’t know how much I liked them.”

He nodded, “Pink and purple yarn coming right up.”

“Thank you, Joel.”

He shrugged, “Consider it a trade.”

Three – Fifteen Years Post Outbreak: The Seed Trade

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Looking around to make sure Bill wasn’t going to pop up.

Frank shrugged, “He’s got so many fucking guns he won’t notice a measly 9mm missing.”

You sighed feeling that anxiety rising in your chest, “Fine. Who’s coming for this trade?”

“Joel.”

“Joel?” You sounded surprised. It had only been six months or so since you’d seen him last. Not that you were complaining in the slightest. You’d always welcome him back.

“And Tess.” He smirked, “But I just wanted to see your reaction.”

“Oh, fuck off.” You giggled knowing he was teasing about your crush on Joel.

“They say after six months of crushing on someone it’s love. It’s been what? Eight fucking years of the two of you flirting like mad when he comes around. I think it’s past love at this point.”

“What of it Frank? It’s not like he’s moving in here. It’s not like I’m moving to the Boston QZ.” Rolling your eyes, you leaned onto the chain link fence.

Franked rolled his eyes right back at you, “Why couldn’t he move here?”

“Uhm, because he has his own life with Tess?”

He shrugged, “You know people moved for far less in the pre-outbreak days.”

“Well, we aren’t living in those days, are we? We’re living in fucking reality Frank. He has a life. I have mine.”

“You haven’t even asked.”

“It’s not my place to.” You admitted. Sure, you’d thought of it, but it wasn’t your place to in the slightest. This was Bill’s place after all. The two of you so immersed in the debate back and forth neither of you heard the pair coming up on you both. It wasn’t even like they were being that silent.

“What were you guys talking about?” Tess asked popping out of thin air. Joel stood behind her smirking at the heated conversation between the two siblings. He and Tommy bearing a striking resemblance to the bickering siblings.

“Nothing!” You turned smiling at the pair you’ve grown to love over the years.

“Joel!” Frank said right after you. You turned towards your sibling eyeing him up and down. The nerve on him beyond you at this point. Frank was really just tired of waiting to see you two together. He knew there was nothing going on between Joel and Tess, like you were worried about, but he also knew Joel was apprehensive. As were you.

“And Tess!” You turned towards the two of them again, “Good to see you both so soon.” You smiled brightly towards Joel. Your best smile reserved for your favorite man. That certainly didn’t help your case with Frank though.

“I got you some more colors.” He handed you a duffel bag stuffed full, “Red, purple and blue this time.”

“You’re spoiling me, Joel Miller.” You cheered happily accepting the gift. Tess and Frank could only step back and watch the innocent interaction. For the life of her Tess couldn’t understand how soft Joel got with you. Only with you. Frank too marveled at your nerves with the man. Your usual confident self only seemed to waver in his presence.

“Or” You turned back towards him with wide eyes. Getting ready to tease him, “Is it because you know I’ll make you nice clothing?” You continued on, welcoming the harmless flirting that always seemed to arise between the two of you.

“You caught on quick.” He threw you a rare wink.

You giggled softly, acutely aware of the audience intently listening in behind you, “You’re lucky I adore you both. I’m more than happy. Any requests?” It really was your favorite. Gift giving was your love language to others. It just made you so warm and fuzzy inside to see everybody’s reactions to getting something they love.

Tess coughed, not caring that she was interrupting the moment. She needed some items and if you were offering, she would be taking. She missed the harsh glare from Frank though, “I really could use some new socks.”

You turned towards your friends, “You got it. Stick around long enough today and I go grab you a few pairs?”

She nodded her head quickly, “I honestly could really use them. You mind Joel?”

“As long as Bill doesn’t.”

Frank shook his head quickly, “Not at all! We’ll make sure to have dinner ready for everybody.”

“We wouldn’t want to impose…” Joel began before you bucked up the courage and interrupted him. You wanted him to stay.

“You wouldn’t be at all. Bill and Frank love cooking. Enjoy it.”

Joel nodded folding into your assurance quickly. That’s all he really needed to hear before he agreed to staying.

“Thank God.” Tess grumbled, “I could use some good food too. Joel, we gotta get out here more often.” Tess notes.

“I agree!” You nodded trying not to be too gleeful about the innocent proposition.

“Yes please.” Frank nods. He adores hosting and wants people to come around more often. Especially if those people include Joel. He so desperately wanted to see you happy with him. Even if it meant losing you to the Boston QZ. He knew you’d visit.

Joel let out a rare laugh seeing the group so happy. So fucking carefree. So, unlike the norm. God, he missed the old days. How simple that life really was, “I’m not stopping anyone.”

Tess smiled, “It’s settled then. We’re coming for you more often.”

Your face lit up at the confirmation, “Good. Well come on then.” You flashed your smile towards Joel, “You know where everything is, get comfy.” Beckoning them to come in with your hand you turned back towards Tess, “What color this time? I’ll even make you blue ones if you want!” Your cheeks began hurting from the grin that wouldn’t fall from your face. It warmed your heart that Joel always brought you more yarn, always. Even five years after that conversation with him, he never failed to bring you some.

She shook her head, “Just use some scrap yarn or something, nothing special.”

“You deserve to have a color you want Tess. Something that makes you happy. Plus you know I have a pair in every color ready to go.” Your eyes softened as you really looker her over now. The last five years not being kind on her, on anyone really. Her initial soft features began hardening over time. Wrinkles formed where her scowl always was. The world wasn’t kind to you. But the world was downright cruel to Tess and Joel.

“Anything is fine really…”

You stopped immediately not satisfied with her answer. Joel almost ran you over as he was paying attention too closely to the conversation and not what you were doing, “Well, what’s your favorite color?”

She laughed, “That’s something I haven’t thought of in a while.”

Giving her a sad look these conversations never failed to pull at your heartstrings. You all were unfortunately born into a world that would simply never exist anymore. A world that was thriving. A world that was so fucking foreign it hurt. You were almost jealous of the humans being born in the post-outbreak world. They would never know the luxury of living that old life. This was all they knew. This was their normal. This September will mark the fifteenth year that you were living this new normal. This insanely fucked up normal.

“Mine was pink. But it just doesn’t seem as happy anymore.” You admitted, “I think my new favorite is blue. Sky blue. That’s happiness to me.” You shot her a small smile.

“Why’s that?” She asked as the group started their short walk back to Bill’s house.

You shrugged hoping what you were admit didn’t make you look too soft, “When I get tired of gardening I like to lay down and just look up. Watch the clouds like I did when I was a little kid. Find figures in the clouds. The sky never changes. There’s just something so cathartic about it.”

You didn’t see it because he was walking behind you but a ghost of a smile crossed Joel’s lips. He couldn’t help it. He was so fucking drawn into everything about you. So gentle in a world that wanted to rip you apart at any moment. He, of course, made a note of it. He needed to find sky blue yarn. It wouldn’t be easy now. It started getting difficult to find untouched yarn in the QZ. It was even harder finding it outside. But it never bothered him. The smile alone on your face when he handed you a bag full of yarn was worth all the trouble to get it.

Tess nodded, “I think mines green. Grass green. Tree green.”

“And why’s that?” You asked her the same question, curious as to what she came up with.

“Green means the weather gets better. It just makes life easier.” She let out a small sigh of frustration. A growing frustration of trying to stay alive. It wears down on you far too quickly.

Again, another wave of sadness rushed through your heart. Why were you, of all people in the world, given the chance to live this somewhat normal life in the middle of nowhere? Why wasn’t Joel given the chance? Tess? The longer you lived here relatively unstressed the more guilty you felt through it all. Especially seeing just how much the real world had aged the pair.

“Then green it is. I have a really nice forest green pair I think you’ll like. Did the last pair fit okay?”

She nodded opting not to reply verbally feeling the emotions bubble up from deep within her. Emotions she buried so deep down she wasn’t sure if they’d ever come back up. But your gentleness with her, your determination to break down those walls she put up so high was beginning to crack the walls. How you could be so thoughtful was beyond her greatest comprehension. You had to be selfish in the world. You were the opposite.

“Okay!” You clapped at the group made it back to the house, “I’m going to run to the boutique to grab what I need. See you guys later.”

“Want some company?”

Your stupid heart sped right on up hearing that husky voice from behind you. Biting your cheek, you wanted to hide the smile that was forming automatically. God, you’d dreamed of moments like these. Moments where Joel sought you out instead of you seeking him out. Moments where you knew he liked you. Wanted to be around you.

“I’ll always take your company Joel.” Turning towards him you did not want to see Frank and Tess’s reaction. There was a 100% chance they’d run into the house giggling like little schoolgirls gossiping about the two of you. They turned into middle school girls the second any kind of drama could be sniffed in the air.

You could’ve sworn you saw the slightest hint of a blush dance across the apples of his cheeks.

Giving him a soft smile, you started walking to the boutique with Joel in tow.

“How are you doing Joel?” You asked hoping he’d give you the real answer not the bullshit fluffy stuff you were used to. You always asked him this same question each time he came.

“I’m… tired.” He admitted while running his hand through his grown-out hair.

Looking down to the ground you hid the frown as you kept pace with Joel now, “I can’t even imagine Joel. I’m so sorry... I”

He cut you off by placing a friendly hand on your shoulder. The contact immediately making you freeze up. It’d been too long since you’d been touched by anybody other than your brother or Bill. Your eyes clouded over with unshed tears as you tried to bite back the emotion that suddenly overcame you.

“You don’t need to apologize.” You continued to walk as you racked your brain for anything to say to him, but it seemed to have short circuited.

“I feel guilty.” Not having a clue why you were admitting it to him you blinked a few times hiding your emotions best as you could.

Joel didn’t understand why you would feel that way. He just gave you a curious look, waiting for you to continue. When you didn’t hear his reply you finally bucked up the courage to get another look back at him. His eyes urging for you to elaborate.

“Why me? Why did I get to live this life. This easy, simple life? How did I luck into it? I guess it doesn’t really matter. It’s all ending soon anyway.” You decided to drop the bomb on Joel. Finally feeling like you could tell somebody.

“Why do you say that?”

You sighed finally spitting out what’s been bothering you for the last few months, “I think Frank’s sick.”

“What kinda sick?”

“Not infected. I think it’s like pre-outbreak sick Joel.” You turned away wiping the stupid tears that slipped down your cheek. You were worried. So, fucking worried for your best friend.

Joel still looked confused, “Okay. Why do you think that?”

“He’s tired all the time. Complains to Bill about losing feeling in his hands and feet. He doesn’t remember things like he use to. I don’t know. Maybe I’m looking too much into it, but something just doesn’t feel right.”

Joel frowned trying to think of words to comfort you, but he came up terribly short. He didn’t do this. He couldn’t do this. The last time he had to was when Sarah was alive. An entire lifetime ago.

You continued knowing he hadn’t a clue what to say, “Bill won’t talk to me about it either. Says nothing’s wrong. I don’t know what to do Joel. They can’t just ignore it.

“Do you think there’s medicine? I can try and find something.”

You shook your head, “Don’t think so. Don’t think they had a cure back then. Sure as hell don’t have one now.”

“Well, you don’t know that Y/N.”

“It’s not cancer. It’s in his brain or something. That’s what the books are saying. I don’t know Joel. It just doesn’t feel right.”

He nodded, “Keep an eye on him.”

You stopped in once you reached the store. Quickly you ran in grabbing what you needed before meeting him back on the street to start your walk back to Bill’s house. Both of you walked back in silence, unsure of what to say.

“You shouldn’t feel guilty.” Joel broke the comfortable silence that consumed the walk home.

“Yeah.” You mumbled not really feeling like debating right now.

“Really. You and Frank were meant to find this place. You were meant to do everything here. You’ve been a constant in Tess’s life. My life, for the last eight years? God, how’s it been that long?” Joel smiled thinking back on his times with you,.

You smiled, “Don’t make me feel so old Joel.”

That drew a heavenly laugh out of your favorite guy. Something that came around so rarely that you cherished every second, “You’re still a kid.” Joel didn’t believe that. As cruel as this world was to everyone it still looked so beautiful on you. You hadn’t aged like everyone he knew. A woman who could pass in her twenties easily.

Scoffing you shook your head, “Hardly! I’m seasoned at life.”

“You sure are.” Joel nodded. He smiled as he studied you this time around. He wished and prayed he wouldn’t have fallen for you, but he couldn’t resist. Not with that smile. Not with your kindness. He wished this was easier. There was no easy way to go about it. That’s why neither of you cared to admit your feelings. What good would it really do but complicate things further?

You made it back to the house where you were ambushed by Frank who looked far too happy, “Y/N! They got us strawberry seeds! Your favorite, remember?”

Walking over to him you inspected the seeds. Looking up to Tess you smiled softly to her, “Thank you. I haven’t had a, uh, strawberry in what?” You looked to Frank brushing the tears away from your eyes, “Fifteen years now?”

He nodded with a big happy smile, “Yeah, fifteen years.”

You turned to Joel, “Thank you so much!”

“Sure, we would’ve brought them sooner if I would’ve known you liked them so much.” He admitted. He wasn’t sure how you did that to him. Got him admitting embarrassing things in front of everybody he knew.

“I guess I just forgot about them. Such a luxury I didn’t even think of. They were our mom’s favorite. She found a way to incorporate them in our food almost everyday.”

Frank wrapped you in a hug. He knew just how soft you were. How sad you got when you thought about mom or dad. They just disappeared right out of your life. Dad never made it back from work that day. Mom got infected the second day. Neither of you could kill her so you ran. Ran so far away until you landed in the Baltimore QZ. Until it then was demolished.

Giving him a squeeze to let him know you were alright you pulled yourself away from him, “Thank you both. Really. Now you’ll just have to come back in a few months when they’re grown. We can make some strawberry shortcake.” The gears started turning in your head. There were so many new recipes you guys could use with strawberries now on the menu.

Joel nodded. Tess agreed, “We already agreed to coming around more often anyway. Now it’s just an extra excuse.”

Frank pulled her to the living room to talk about who knows what.

“Alright, I’ve gotta get to work.” You held up the green yarn. Walking over to the chair in the window you got comfortable.

“Want some company?” Your favorite voice broke your concentration.

“You know my answer, Joel Miller.” With some newfound confidence you winked at him as you said so.

Four – Eighteen Years Post Outbreak: The Trip Back to Boston

“No. No, no, no, no, fuck no!” You punched the pillow sitting next to you with all your might. This couldn’t be fucking happening to you. They couldn’t be making you leave. Feeling your heart tip into two you let the tears fall freely. How could your brother do this to you? You knew his health was the reason, but you couldn’t fathom why he wouldn’t let you stay. You’ve been through this whole thing with him. It felt like he was just abandoning you.

“Y/N… you have to.” Frank’s sad face broke you. You didn’t care about his feelings anymore. You broke down completely now letting the loud sobs free.

“Please Frank, please don’t make me go.” Choking on your words you could hardly comprehend why he was saying this. Why he was making you go.

“You can’t be here any longer. You have to go.” He couldn’t look at you not with the look you had on your face.

“Just tell me why Frank! I can help. I can help you both. I’ll do more. If that’s what it is, you know I’ll do more Frank. Please don’t make me go. Please Frank.”

He shook his head letting his own fresh set of tears fall, “I’m dying Y/N. I’ve got a few months, maybe a year left. You can’t be here for that.”

“I’ll die out there.” You shook your head back and forth suddenly terrified of what traveling to Boston actually meant. The real world. The sick world. The world that wanted to kill you.

“Not with Joel. Not with Tess.”

A cry broke from your throat, “Just like that? After all this time? I can be there for you in the end. I can help Bill.”

“Bill’s going to have to move on to and I’m not sure if you fit into that plan.”

“Oh.” You continued to cry. Curling up within yourself you let yourself cry until you couldn’t anymore. Frank didn’t dare try and comfort you. He knew that wasn’t welcomed. So, he sat there. He wasn’t going to leave you. Not yet anyway.

After calming down you finally processed what the this all meant. It meant the end of the road for you and Frank. It meant starting over, completely. You knew it would end sooner or later but it still stung. It didn’t feel like enough time.

Standing suddenly, you caught Frank’s attention who was just sitting there with his head down, “I’m staying in the guest house.”

“Y/N…”

“Night.” You shut the door behind you, loudly.

It was still bright out when you laid down to go to sleep. Joel and Tess would be here in the morning to get you. To take you to your new home. Turning over in your bed you looked out the bedroom window studying your home once more. The flowers that bloomed out front reminded you of all the times you and Frank spent gardening. Making your home beautiful.

No longer would you be able to make trips to the boutique. No longer would you be able to stock it up for your guests. No longer would you get to live in this little fantasy land.

Woken by a hand on your shoulder you pushed the hand away, annoyed you were woken so abruptly, “Go away Frank.” You mumbled.

“Not Frank.” Fuck. Why was Joel in your room waking you up?

“Oh,” You couldn’t bear to turn towards him. You adored him. Loved him even. But you didn’t want to go like this. Being forced outside your will. It hurt. Crushed you even. You didn’t want to take your anger out on Joel so best to keep your back turned to him. But God, you just wanted to scream. Yesterday you were just living your life as normal, as possible, that you could. Then Frank dropped the bomb and now you were just expected to go, “Sorry, Joel.” Meekly replying to the man, you shed a single tear. That’s the one thing you hated about yourself. How damn emotional you got. You couldn’t bottle it up even if you tried.

“S’fine.” He sighed not sure what to say. What could he say? He knew you didn’t want to go. Frank warned him and Tess once they got there. He knew just how devastated you likely were. Everything you knew was about to vanish. Joel had gone through that a few times. It wasn’t the best feeling. But he always survived. He knew you’d be just fine. And there was that sick twisted thought of happiness that you’d be close to him.

He tried to fight these feelings away. Tried his damn hardest. He knew you couldn’t really love in a world like this. How devastating it always ended. Nobody was ever really that lucky. Joel had loved hard and lost even harder. He swore he’d never let in anybody ever again. Tess was the closest and they were just partners. Nothing more. He loved her but he wasn’t in love with her.

Then you came along. All happy and shit. He swore he’d never love hard again but that promise seemed to crack each time he saw you. You never failed to put a smile on his usual stoic face. He resisted the urges for so long until he couldn’t any longer.

“Can you give me a moment?” You asked hoping he’d take the hint.

He nodded before realizing you were turned away from him, “Right, yeah. I’ll be at Bill’s place.”

“Okay.” You closed your eyes until you heard him close the door. Letting out the shaky breath you were holding. You watched from your window as Joel walked slowly back over to Bill’s place. Seemingly lost in thought.

You put on the fresh set of clothes that you always left over. A simple set of jeans, t-shirt, and a hoodie. Not believing it was really it you forced your legs to walk back over. You had to face the music sooner or later.

“Morning.” You nodded your head at Tess, the first person you saw sitting in the living room.

Giving you a sad smile, she nodded right back to you, “Morning.”

“Y/N.” You heard your brothers voice, “Bill made you a pack. It’s got everything you might need.”

Biting your lip, you took it gratefully. You really couldn’t have done it without either of them, “Thank you.”

“You’ll be okay out there.”

“Sure.”

Joel and Tess sat back watching the painful interaction. Tess nodding towards the door letting Joel know they needed to get out. They both snuck out without you or your brother really noticing. Both too caught up in whatever the hell this was.

“Y/N.”

“Spit it out Frank.”

“I don’t want you to hate me. I’m doing this for you. It’s best for you.” You leaned back into the wall crossing your arms. Choosing your words very wisely. This would be the last time you’d talk with him in this lifetime. You had to do this right. For his sake and yours.

“I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. I love you so fucking much it hurts.” You let a tear fall. Dammit here they came. The waterworks, “I just wish you’d let me be here for you but if you think this is best then I’ll go.”

“It’s best.”

Letting a few more tears slip you nodded your head, “Tell Bill that I love him. I love you, Frank.” You walked over hugging him tightly. Squeezing him so tightly you knew it was hurting him, but he didn’t dare say a word. You were hurt and grieving him even while he was still standing there.

Letting him go you gave him your best smile, “I’ll always love you, Frank.”

“And I’ll always love you. Be safe out there.”

“You know it.” You turned quickly walking towards the door. Shutting it behind you, you took a breath. Why did you have to be born into this world? What good fucking came out of all of this. What was the point?

Walking over to Joel and Tess, you gave them a quick head nod.

“You alright?” Tess asked.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Joel looked a little too apprehensive seeing your blood shot eyes and rosy cheeks, “You sure?”

“Positive. Please, let’s go.”

“Alright, follow me.” Tess led the way. This was your life now. This was going to be just fine.

The walk back to the QZ was quiet and cold. You didn’t dare complain though. They were simply doing this as friends. Whatever the hell friends were. It only dawned on you as soon as you got close, without incident, that you were an outsider. How in the fuck was that going to work?

“Joel?” You asked one night shortly before you arrived.

“Hmm?” He stayed silent most of the way. Not ever knowing what to say to you. God, he wanted to be a source of comfort, but he hadn’t a clue how to be for you.

“How’s this going to work? I’m an outsider and all.”

He understood your concern, “It’s all taken care of. Tess got some paperwork made up. You’ll live with me for the time being and we’ll find you a job.”

“Cool,” You nodded. Pleasantly surprised that it had been so thought out, “Thanks Joel.”

“Sure.” He had a hard time looking at you. Knowing he’d cave for whatever friendly look you’d be giving his way.

“Thanks for everything Joel. Really. For protecting me and what not.” You mumbled feeling terribly awkward about it all. Even though you didn’t appreciate your life so much anymore it felt good to be looked after. To be wanted and taken care of.

“I’ll always protect you.”

Five – Twenty Years Post Outbreak: The Trip Back to Bill’s

“You don’t have to go in.” Joel stood at the gate blocking the path for you and Ellie.

You shook your head, “I’m okay.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, “Let’s fucking go then.”

Smiling at the girl you turned back towards Joel, “You heard the girl.”

He gave you a skeptical look, “You sure?”

“Yeah, I just won’t go in the house.” You kept your eyes forward, not darling to look at him.

He nodded turning back towards the overgrown town. Ellie walked past you keeping pace with Joel. Bugging him about something. You hung back taking a leisurely stroll through your old home. A place you called home for nearly fourteen years.

The usual green grass had turned a shade of brown without Frank’s attention to detail. The bright yellow flowers had been overgrown with weeds. A tug at your heartstrings knowing the worst had come to Frank. That was expected. His condition going from okay to tragic in a matter of a few months. What you didn’t expect was Bill taking his life too. Bill wouldn’t let this place go to shit. It was his home first.

Too quickly you made it back to the house. Joel looked back at you before he and Ellie went in. You nodded, letting him know it was alright. You made your way to the side of the house where your garden was. You strolled through the raised garden beds that were overgrown with who knows what now. It looked like the place hadn’t been touched in two years. He must’ve done it right after you left. They must’ve decided together. Without you.

Tears sprung to your eyes when you spotted the thriving strawberry patch. Somehow untouched by weeds or the animals around it your once small square of strawberries had grown tenfold. Seemingly thriving in this environment.

Squatting down you picked a ripe one. Turning it over in your hand a few times just thinking about Frank before you ate it. He would’ve loved to share one last one with you.

“To Frank.” You mumbled before taking the last bite, discarding the stem on the floor.

You sat down next to the strawberry patch grabbing a few more before you laid back onto the grass. Letting yourself feel sorry for yourself after everything. Knowing what Frank was going to do. Seeing Tess die in front of your eyes. Realizing Bill also left this world. Everyone you loved and cared for gone in a matter of two years.

Tess’s death hurt you the worst. One moment she was there and the next she wasn’t. So unexpected. You had time to process and grieve your brother’s death. Bills caught you off guard but didn’t surprise you completely.

Looking up to the sky you remembered a long-ago conversation with Tess about favorite colors. Sky Blue. It looked so pretty today. Not a single cloud in the sky. One big blue sky.

“Bill’s gone.” Joel’s voice interrupted your peaceful solace.

Flicking your eyes over to look at him you didn’t see Ellie behind him, “I know.”

“You, okay?” He took a seat next to you.

“Mhmm. I’m fine. Take a strawberry. They’re still good.” You smiled up at him continuing to lay on your back.

He did as you instructed, “They are.”

Giving him a genuine smile, you just felt comforted by his presence. He was the only constant in your life for the last two years. You’d grown far too attached to the man, but could you blame yourself? He was everything to you. You were so terrified that you’d lose him too. It’s all you seemed to be doing in the last two years.

“Get everything you need?”

“Yeah. Battery is charging for another hour or so.”

“Ellie?”

“She checking out the town. I told her about the boutique.”

Sitting up you looked over at him. He was so beautiful. The salt and pepper look throughout his hair only making him more attractive in your eyes. The scar that graced his cheek enhanced everything about him. His hair was at the perfect length where it flicked all over the place. He’d probably start complaining in a few weeks. Then you’d cut it and it’d be far too short, and you had to wait until it was your favorite length again.

“Maybe she’ll grab something.”

He nodded, “Power still works. Grab a shower while you can?” He stood up offering you a hand.

“Sure,” You took his hand in yours. Joel pulled you up gingerly. Always so careful with you, “Thanks Joel. I’m going to the house next door. It should still be stocked up.”

“Need a change of clothes?”

He was always so thoughtful with you. Never skipping a beat, always making you a priority. His way of showing just how much he loved you. And he did. Boy did he love you. He just had a hard time expressing it directly. Showing his love in other ways instead. He initially said no when Frank proposed you coming back with them to Boston. But when he heard his pleas through the radio, he knew what he needed to do.

He was surprised at how well you adapted out there. You knew your strengths, weaknesses. You knew how to be helpful and when to take a step back. You never complained either. Just wore a smile on your face instead. That was how you coped. Smile and walk. You’d be there soon enough. The first trip was the hardest. It got easier after that. Joel wouldn’t let you sneak out with him at first. Too scared you’d get hurt. But Tess eventually convinced him. Then you were off helping them out as you could.

“If you don’t mind? There should be some clothes in my room.”

“You got it.”

You’d known about Frank’s passing. Hoping to come to Bill’s for supplies. Lucky for you it hadn’t been raided, yet. Joel worked on getting the truck ready while you and Ellie showered.

You walked back over to Bill’s standing at the front door. You wanted to go in so bad, but it didn’t feel right. Something tell you that you shouldn’t.

“Hey, you hear me?”

You snapped out of the trance you seemed to be under, “No, sorry Joel, what’s up?”

“Come on, need your help loading up.” He motioned to the garage on the side of the house.

“Yeah, alright.” You jogged over to meet him, “Thanks for the clothes.”

“Mhmm.” He kept his gaze forward.

You really couldn’t take it much longer. The thought of losing yet another person with telling them how you felt just didn’t sit right any longer.

“You know I love you right?” You asked.

“What?” he paused looking taken aback at your sudden admittance.

“I love you, Joel.” You smiled a genuine smile. One that felt so good to do.

“You do?”

“Why do you look so surprised? Of course, I do. You’re everything to me.”

He gave you that brilliant smile that made you weak at the knees, “You love me, huh?”

You slapped his arm, “I love you. How many times are you going to make me say it?” You giggled feeling like he was loosening up. Softening even further as he saw your overexcited state

“I dunno.” He took a step towards you, “It sounds nice.”

“Yeah?” You asked transfixed on his gaze.

“Oh yeah, and you know what?” He asked.

“What’s that?”

“I think I love you too.” It felt strange admitting it out loud, but damn did it feel good. Right.

Your heart started racing, “You think?” Raising your eyebrows, you dared take a step closer to him.

He shook his head a bit upset by his choice of words. Always seeming to mess them up, “I know. I love you, Y/N.””

“I like the sound of that.” You didn’t let your smile fade only bigger. God did I feel good to get it out. You knew what his answer would be. He showed his love in other ways but damn did it feel good to hear.

“Yeah, now come here.”

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