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#the outlaws x reader
kayadrake123 · 1 year
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Batboys x Thor!Reader
I HAVE TO I HAVE TO I HAVE TO. I just rewatched Ragnarok and I have seen a few posts speaking about Thor!Reader x the Batboys and I just had to write this. Please can people start making more headcanons and stories about this! Anyways, this is gender neutral and race neutral. I have also included some Marcel characters as well so hehehee enjoy!
Dick Grayson
First off, Dick loves your humour and how you deal with tricky situations
Like he admires how you can make lighthearted jokes as a giant dragon is trying to eat you
Which brings us to how you met
You piss off a lot of people, and this time you had happened to piss off someone with a dragon that’s trained to hunt down people
You knew you had to get off the beasts radar, so you went to the one place everyone would least expect you to be: Gotham City
Unfortunately the dragon wasn’t as dumb as you thought and followed you there, which ended with a lot of damage to Gotham’s streets, an angry dragon trying to bite your head off and an even angrier Batman
Nightwing joined the fight and just as he thought he was going to die when the dragon went for him, your hammer went straight through the beast and saved him
”Dragons have never really liked me that much”
”What?”
”Which is weird since they’re meant to be like puppies. I’m good with puppies.”
”They’re meant to be like WHAT?!”
He instantly fell in love with you. He enjoys how fearless and determined you are, even if you get beat up by a large creature occasionally.
You care about those you love and would do anything for them, something both of you share.
He understands your complicated relationship with your adopted sibling the best out of everyone you know, since it’s kinda similar to the one he used to have with Jason.
He knows your strong asf, but it never stops him from worrying about you.
He would do absolutely anything and everything for you.
He’ll never admit it but whenever you go into space and you take him with you, he gets really nauseous. Space makes him feel sick.
A lot of your enemies like to use him against you, and visa versa. It usually ends with the criminal being in critical condition in hospital after you beat the shit out of them. (Yes you beat up your own kidnappers)
Jason Todd
You were in a library cursing at the book in your hand as Jason walked past you.
He found it amusing how you were trying to be quiet as the librarian had shushed you a couple of times already, but what really prompted hi, to approach you was the fact that the book you were cursing at was a Greek mythology one.
He’s never seen anyone that worked up over a book about the Gods before.
The answer he received from you was one he was not expecting
”This goddamn book has so many inaccuracies! Thor is not the God/Goddess of Lighting, it’s Thunder you fucking idiots! They always get me confused with Zeus…”
”…What?”
When you saw his confusion, you held your hand out to greet him.
“Thor, child of Odin. And you are?”
”Uh, Jason…son of Bruce?”
He met you as Red Hood a few weeks later when Bizarro had a run in with a large green good friend of yours
“Ah! Jason! Son of Bruce.”
”I have no idea who that is.” He lied, but you could see straight through him.
You were actually able to recognize him due to some of his left arm getting exposed from having his suit torn somehow during the fight. He had a scar there that you had noticed during your first meeting. It was shaped similarly to a lightning bolt, which caught your interest.
You grew close and you both became very protective of the other
You always defend him against his family members, especially Bruce (who won’t admit it but sometimes he finds you scary)
You get along with the Outlaws very well too. You sometimes even join them on missions.
You love it when he teaches you something about plays, poetry and novels. You think it’s really cute that such a dangerous man can be so cute and romantic.
He’s definitely helped you save the world a couple of times.
Tim Drake
He met you during his Robin days
You were a friend of Kon’s, and he called in a favour when his team was failing miserably on a mission.
They were being attacked by some angry aliens who happened to be using some of their tech to mind control parts of the planet
Bart had gotten one of his legs broken pretty badly so he was out for a while, Cassie was knocked out, and Tim and Kon were barley winning their fights.
Suddenly some thunder sounded in the sky and everyone was blinded by a bright light (your thunder bolts hehehe) and the most beautiful person Tim has ever seen appeared out of nowhere from the sky and beat the function out of the remaining enemy
He’s a bat, and is very much like Bruce when it comes to being suspicious of people so he wasn’t so friendly to you in the beginning
Your first impression of Tim was that he gave zero fucks about anything. He’s pretty, but definitely doesn’t care about shit (or acts like he doesn’t)
You guys saw each other more when you helped the Titans, Justice League and even Batman out with a few missions
And also whenever Kon would invite you both out to the same places to hang out. You guys got very close over the years.
Then you guys began hanging out by yourselves in and out of uniform
You saw people while you were each other’s close friends, but you just always knew that you loved each other.
Then he became Red Robin and fell into a dark hole after Bruce’s ‘death’ and became very standoffish with you
You spent more time in space, where you made more enemies with dragons and men made of fire who like putting you in cages (Ragnarok reference hehe) and your family issues got a lot worse too
All the times you spent away from Tim (a few weeks) made you both realise that you’re in love with each other. So you returned home through Bifrost, and turned up at his nest one night when it was raining and confessed your love for him. (You were still covered in blood as you literally just came back from a fight)
You guys have always been inseparable together, but in a romantic relationship? UNSTOPPABLE.
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yoditopascal · 1 month
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Or Nah
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MINORS DNI 18+ ‼️
jason todd 100% loves to fuck to music.
he tries to focus on the lyrics, the beat of the song, tries his hardest to focus on anything but you to make this last longer but fuck, you’re squeezing him so tight and you sound so fucking good.
he buries his face into your neck and licks against your skin as he tries to stay hitting it on beat, promising you’re gonna feel oh so good when he's through with you “fuck mama.. so fuckin’ good to me .” he speeds up his pace a little as he gets closer faltering on tempo just a bit to let you know he's getting close
he’s so fucking big, and he's moving like he’ll die again if he can't get you to come first. he starts mumbling filthy nothings pathetically into you ear as he lazily drags a hand down your plush stomach to rub tight circles into your clit
you don’t even know when you both started cumming, him filling you hard and deep as he's painting your walls hot and white, but you know you didn't want it to stop.
a chill runs down your spine when you feel him exhale a strangled breath, your combined fluids leaking out of you as you both come down from your high leaving a milky ring around the base of his cock, so caught up in the euphoria of it all that he forgot to pull out.
there's a different song playing now and the thought of fucking you to it has his dick twitching inside of you all over again
a/n: i wrote this instead of doing my math hw
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hongism · 10 months
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BOUNCY. - j. yunho, c. jongho (m)
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➼ genre; smut ➼ pairing; yunho x fem!reader x jongho ➼ au; outlaw/mechanics!2ho, dystopian futurism, lore accurate ateez ➼ warnings; explicit smut, some terribly unfunny mechanic jokes i’m really sorry ➼ rating; m/18+ ➼ wc; 4.9k
‘Two for the price of one!’ the sign outside the shop had read, and well, you’ve never been one to pass up on a good deal.
part of the outlaw miniseries.
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➼ smut warnings; piv, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, fingering, manual stimulation, pussy slapping, spanking, hair pulling, choking, sloppy seconds, creampie, pet names: sugar, sweets, dear & baby, dirty talk, breeding kink, name calling: bitch & slut, voyeurism & exhibitionism, dom/sub dynamics, dom yunho, sub reader, slight bimbofication, spit play, size kink, praise kink
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You pull up to Outlaw Customs, the repair shop that’s become something of a second home for your car, two minutes before closing. If it were anywhere else — and anyone else running the place — you would never dream of being such a terrible customer, but since you know both men inside well enough to have a working relationship outside of this little business they run, you aren’t worried about causing any issues. And, well, if you do, Yunho will surely let you know in his own snarky way.
The garage door is still wide open, with Yunho on full display at the mouth of it as he works on the vehicle that’s always parked front and center. As you cross the threshold into the garage, your eyes catch on a sign propped up outside that you hadn’t seen the last time you were here. Two for the price of one on any repairs! A scoff slips out of you as you eye it, and that noise is what pulls Yunho’s focus from his work to you.
“You didn’t tell me you were running a deal,” you whine, drawing a laugh from the man before you.
“We still gotta make money somehow, sugar!” He nods his head towards the other side of the car, where another familiar face sits on the run-down couch you gave to them when they first opened up shop down the street from your apartment complex. It was something of a trade and an icebreaker: you needed a cracked headlight patched up, and they needed some furniture to fill out the garage and make it more homey for any customers who would come and go. Jongho gets up when you come over though, simply to move from the couch to the desk chair right beside it, and you take the spot where he was just sat.
“What’ll it be this time, sweets?” Jongho arches a brow at you in question and leans back in the chair. He exudes the same natural attractive confidence that he always has, and it shines through in the way he’s sitting with his legs splayed out and how one hand rests on his upper thigh while the other closes into a loose fist against the surface of the desk. He’s changed up his hair since you were last here too, now accentuated with white highlights that frame his head nicely. Your staring doesn’t go unnoticed, however, and he clears his throat gently when you fail to respond after several seconds.
“Oh, um, I’m in desperate need of a new tire. Back left. I think I hit a nail on the road or something, she’s been causing me trouble for weeks now.”
“And you didn’t come in sooner?”
You draw your lips into a firm ‘o’. “I started having issues two days after you demanded to do my oil change! Which I could have done myself really, but now — I can’t see what’s causing the issue, and no matter how many times I pump the damn thing, it still has shit air pressure. Besides, if you wanted to see me sooner, you don’t have to wait around for me to have another car issue to do so.”
Jongho shifts to find something on the desk. The tips of his ears are stained red, and that color bleeds down to his neck. “Yunho is the one who demanded to do the oil change though,” he mumbles, pulling out a clipboard with a blank sheet of paper attached to it. “I’ll go take a look and do a quick inspection to see if anything stands out.”
“Keys are on the dash!” you call after him before he slips out and leaves you somewhat alone with Yunho. Said man is laughing to himself as discreetly as he can manage but says nothing in favor of continuing his fiddling at the car. “Were you really the one to demand that oil change?”
“Technically no. But I did say that if he wanted an excuse to pull you over here then he could offer to do it for you.”
“Despite knowing I always do it myself?” you inquire as you push up from the couch. Your hands come to rest on your hips, chin tilting to match the attitude in your stance, and Yunho’s tongue pokes between his lips. His eyes move over your body in a quick series of glances before he knocks the round of his wrench against the headlight in front of him as though it’s a hammer.
“Um—” he fights to clear his throat but once he starts blushing, it’s impossible to miss against his pale skin. You step closer to where he’s crouched and squat down next to him once you deem yourself close enough — that being within touching distance, that is, where your shoulder can brush against his any time he tries to move even a hair.
“What are you working on?”
Again Yunho’s gaze finds you; this time, he lets it trail over your face first before going any lower, and you grant him a little smile for the bit of unnecessary chivalry.
“You’re too pretty to dirty your hands on me, sugar.”
“You say that every time,” you argue. You never get tired of admiring his side profile, but right now it comes with the added bonus that it watching his throat bob as he swallows hard around nothing but saliva and air.
“You don’t wanna make sure Jongho’s not changing your oil without permission again?” The roll of your eyes is far from subtle by any means, and the dramatization of the gesture brings a snort of laughter out of the man next to you.
“There are other inspections you can do, right? Since I’m a regular here and all.”
“Are you really in need of new tires, dear? From where I’m sitting, it seems like we aren’t the only ones who try to find excuses ‘round these parts.”
Leaning away, you put a hand over your chest and scoff. “The audacity of this man! Jongho, did you hear that?” He’s moving back into the garage as you call out to him, slapping the clipboard against the outside of his thigh. You only get a laugh out of him which seems to you like he agrees with Yunho. He lowers the garage door once safely out of the way and moves back to his seat at the desk. “See, he didn’t say he didn’t find anything.”
“He also didn’t say he did find something, sugar.”
“And, did he?” you prompt, eyes narrowing on Jongho’s back. Even though he can’t see you, he gives you the answer you want to hear with a quiet hum of affirmation, and you flick your chin back to Yunho to send him a smug little grin. “Besides, is there any harm in wanting a good deal?”
“That depends.” Yunho’s voice drawls a little, and he presses the heels of his hands against his thighs to help propel him into a standing position. The wrench in his hand gets tossed back to the cart nearby, bringing an echoing clatter to fill the garage with noise as your eyes lock. “Two for the price of one is a big deal after all.”
“And?” You stand slowly in contrast to how eager Yunho was to stand upright, but he watches your every move with rapt attention. In this game, it’s hard to tell which one of you is stalking the other — both playing the part of a predator so well that it’s indistinguishable. In your humble opinion, Yunho’s resolve is cracking much faster than yours.
“And it comes with lots of nice add-ons but they can be a lot to handle.”
“I never pass up on a good deal though,” you murmur through a pout, deigning to look down to the floor and back up to meet Yunho’s gaze through fluttering lashes. “I like handing big loads too.”
“Oh my god.” Jongho’s voice and the following groan cut through the building tension. “Quit making gross innuendos and just fuck! Making me sit here and agonize through that shit, disgusting.” Your face draws into something close to a scowl, one that matches his expression when you turn to look at him. In a move of childish vengeance, you stick your tongue out at him.
“Let us have our fun!”
“Yeah, yeah, have your fun and fuck.”
“Not joining?” Yunho asks, hand running over the curve of your hip already.
“I’ll sit back and watch you get your fill first then have seconds later. You always feel best after he’s thoroughly used you, sweets.” Your expression is somewhere between bewilderment and a smile, eyes following him as he moves back to the couch and throws himself down to the cushions facing you and Yunho. “What? He leaves you good and loose for me.”
“Jongho.” Your tone is breaching the edge of chastisement, but the words you plan to continue with are knocked out of you in a soft oof as Yunho turns you towards the car and suddenly bends you over the hood without warning.
“He’s right, isn’t he? I do open you up quite nicely.” You brace your hands against the hood, pushing up just enough to send a look back at Yunho over your shoulder. He’s already moved back some, however, and redirected his attention to slipping his fingers between the band of your pants and the skin underneath. “May I, sugar?”
“Go on then,” comes your whispered response as you settle more comfortably against the hood.
“You look pretty splayed out against our gem, baby.” Your view of Jongho is entirely skewed like this, but you watch him as he speaks. Though still fully clothed, you get quite the eyeful of his crotch with the way he’s sitting in that same damned position that makes you want to crawl between his legs and suck him dry.
“Right where she belongs.” Yunho’s fingers are hot against your sex, cupping you through your underwear now that your pants are down to your ankles. He snaps the flat of his hand to the same spot, and the action draws a shiver out of you along with a breathy whine. “Are you up for subbing tonight, y/n?”
“Yes sir.”
“So good and I barely had to lift a finger,” Yunho coos down at you. Once again his fingers trail over the line of your lips and push fabric against your cunt, not enough to give you any sort of true stimulation but it makes your clit throb with want. “Still remember our safeword?”
“Bluebird.”
“There’s my good girl.” Yunho slaps his palm against your mound harder to accentuate his words. You let out a moan that catches you off-guard, but Yunho doesn’t allow you time to adjust to the new sensations. “Count for me, sugar.”
“How many do you think she deserves tonight?” From your perspective, you can see Jongho’s hand move in slow circles against the front of his pants.
“Hm, fifteen to start? She was mouthing off quite a lot with me earlier.” A chilling rush of adrenaline pushes through your body, a whine hanging at your lips and threatening to interrupt their conversation, but you bite it back by sinking your teeth into your lower lip. Jongho catches your slight blunder before you have the chance to hide it.
“Oh? I think she wants to say something, Yun.”
“What is it, sugar? You can count that high still, right? After all my cock isn’t in you yet. Your little head should be perfectly intact still.” Yunho slides a hand down your back and finds a resting place at your tailbone. He takes the fabric of your shirt into his palm before bunching it into his fist and yanking your body along the hood of the car. “Not a dumb cockslut yet, baby, come on and answer the question.”
“I-I can, yeah, I can count that high, sir.”
“Good girl. You sound nice and desperate already. Maybe you shouldn’t wait so long to come see us anymore, hm?”
“I won’t,” you whisper. Yunho’s hand comes down on your ass, slapping against the bare skin exposed by your panties, and the sting comes immediately. “I’ll come sooner next time.” Yunho clicks his tongue though. Your gaze is locked onto Jongho, however, and focused on following his movements as he pulls his pants down his thighs and lets his thick cock spring out fully erect and leaking at the tip already. Yunho tightens his grip on you. The pressure on your body increases tenfold, making it hard to breathe under the weight atop you. You feel hot breath cascading over your ear as Yunho inserts himself into your personal space.
“Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten how to fuckin’ count, sugar,” he hisses into the shell of your ear. His tone is so wildly different than the one he uses in casual conversation — biting and scathing to the point of muddling your thoughts with desire. Nothing quite compares to sex with an angry Yunho, though you rarely can rile him up to that point and even now you don’t have him like that, just the barebones of annoyance that tease something more.
“N-No! One, one, I’m sorry sir.”
“If he’s so distracting, I can send you over to him with no prep, dear.”
“No, it’s okay, I’m — I’m focused, I promise. Please continue?” His response comes in the form of two more slaps over the same spot as the first one, sharp and pointed to make the skin beneath him heat up further. “Three…”
“Now that I’ve got your attention, make sure I keep it, sweetheart.”
There’s no real need for that reminder in your mind because once he starts building a steady rhythm and delivering the spanks to your ass with mere seconds between each one, you have no choice but to focus on him. Jongho is still before you, a sight unfolding gloriously as he strokes at his length with lazy little jerks and no intention of bringing himself much pleasure beyond that. Even Yunho goes quiet in his ministrations behind you, leaving the air to be filled with the sounds of his hand on your skin and whatever broken number you choke out after each one. You want to twist and writhe under him, to alleviate some of the burn that’s so present on your backside, but each time you try to so much as shift an inch, Yunho delivers an extra slap to your cunt. Well-placed and effective too — so close to your clit that it makes your knees buckle and you fall back into the position Yunho wants you in to carry out his task. The first ounce of reprieve comes at eleven, right when you’ve settled to push through the pleasurable punishment to the end.
“You know, sugar, you’re taking this so well that I’m wondering if we should increase the number. You aren’t nearly red enough yet, and we picked an odd number. I can’t show equal love to both sides like that.”
“Twenty?” Jongho chimes in, smile twisting as you shake your head. “Thirty?”
“Twenty is fine, I—” you inhale sharply at the sensation of Yunho running his hand along your skin. His touch is cold now, a welcome balm to the heat that emanates from the spot he’s just been hitting so ruthlessly. Your voice is so shaky that you have to swallow to contain the tremble before continuing. “It’s b-been a bit since we did this, I’m not u-used to it.”
Yunho remains quiet as he rubs his thumb over your warm skin in soothing circles for several more seconds. “One more, baby. Then you’ll be done for tonight.” He’s merciful but not entirely gracious because the last sharp slap he delivers to you feels ten times worse than all the others before, and you roll your head to push it into the hood as you cry out at the impact. He catches you as your knees buckle under you, preventing you from sliding straight down to the floor, and as you’re scrambling to regain your footing, he hooks two fingers under your underwear band. When he yanks at the elastic, it snaps against your body hard enough to make you hiss, and it burns a bit when they slide over your sensitive skin.
“Didn’t she do well, Yun?”
You crack an eye open to look over at the man on the couch and make direct eye contact with Jongho to find his gaze far softer than it was minutes ago.
“Of course she did. I expect nothing less from our pretty lady, dear. And—” Yunho pushes two fingers between your folds and dips right into your hole, bypassing all the arousal that’s begun to leak out of you “—she’s sopping wet to boot. Perfect.” The praise makes your body sing, and Yunho rewards your easy obedience by easing his fingers in and out of you with little resistance thanks to that wetness he mentioned. “You still on the pill?”
“Y-Yeah, as always. Haven’t missed a day.”
“Then I can cum in you?”
“Yes… yes sir.”
Yunho groans, and he moves his hand up from the small of your back to feel at the back of your head. He takes a handful of hair into his hold and grips tight enough to pull your head up from the car hood, but it’s not too terrible that you feel any sort of dramatic pain from the act.
“Gonna breed you fuckin’ full of cum then,” he growls, leaning into your space and knocking his forehead against your temple. “Maybe so well that that damn pill won’t work? If I fuck it into you hard enough then your body won’t have a choice but to take my seed.” A loud moan tumbles from your lips at his words. The hand you have propping your weight up wobbles, and just before your elbow locks, Yunho releases you and grabs for your hips with both hands. You’re close to complaining about the sudden departure of his fingers when he nudges the tip of his cock against your folds, sliding along the wetness in a crude form of lubrication.
“Fuck me, won’t you?” you plead quietly. You hope that if nothing else, the look on your face will convince him to get on with things, but it must be a combination of everything — the heady arousal in the air, your tone and words, even the sight of Jongho jacking off to the two of you only a few feet away. Yunho sinks deep into your cunt then; he buries the full length of his cock deep inside you, stretching you open further until it feels like you can feel him in your stomach. Your body trembles and drops forward as you press your free hand to your abdomen like it’ll help you feel him better. “God, you’re so fucking big, Yun.”
“All the better to breed you with,” he says before planting a hand between your shoulder blades and urging you all the way down once more. Jongho is squeezing the base of his cock with his other hand now, likely to keep himself from cumming too early, and Yunho is notorious for two things: his short refractory period and how long he can go without orgasm no matter what kind of stimulation he’s under.
The initial drag of his cock inside you feels like heaven, and when he thrusts back against your thighs, he does so with such force that your insides churn.
“Is she tight?”
“Insanely,” Yunho responds through gritted teeth. You try to lift your head to look back at his face, eager to see how broken his expression is right now, but he stops you in your tracks. Again, fingers threaded through your hair and locking in close to your scalp to give him the best grip that won’t hurt you too terribly much. He yanks you hard with the next thrust, and it brings your head up at an angle that stretches you hard enough to make your muscles burn with the effort of accommodating to it. “Barely been two weeks and you’re this tight again, sugar, your pussy is fuckin’ insane.”
You would laugh at the absurdity of his comment if you could, but in your current state, the only noise that can escape you are choppy moans. They’re the kind that sounds like they could come straight from an amateur porno, and despite the garage being closed, it doesn’t offer that much privacy. Anyone who walks by will suddenly become privy to what sounds like a home movie being filmed behind the metal door.
“Didn’t expect her to be this tight, fuck, I might cum early.”
You can’t warn Yunho of the same for yourself: between his thrusts, the full weight of his balls slap against your pussy from the sheer force behind how hard he’s fucking you, and the steady rhythm is just enough to stimulate your clit even without head-on contact. He knows your body well, however, and how to play you like a fucking fiddle, so when your walls start pulsing around the thickness of his cock, he shifts the angle and drives his tip so deep into you that you see stars behind your eyelids.
“Fuck, sweets,” Jongho exhales under his breath. Your vision is blurry when you open your eyes, but it snaps back to black a moment later when the orgasm hits you all of a sudden.
“Fuck, fuck, f-fuck!”
“That’s it, sugar,” Yunho coos from behind you, and his hand relaxes to run down to the back of your neck. He presses the pads of his fingers into the flesh there, poking and prodding at the muscles that have suddenly gone tense in the tsunami of sensations sweeping over you, but his thrusts don’t let up even as your walls squeeze hard around his length. Yunho fucks you hard and fast through the brunt of your orgasm. When your body finally relaxes and the waves die down to let you swim in the aftermath of it, he’s still driving his dick along your walls and knocking against your more sensitive spots. “Should I breed you now, dear? Fuck you nice and full of cum then send you to sit on Jongho’s cock?”
Your mouth hangs open enough to let saliva out of it and onto the car, yet it smears across your face when you lose the will to steady yourself against Yunho’s pace.
“Pl-please, sir.”
Yunho lays himself over you and spreads his hands to sit on either side of your head. His hips still against your backside. The fuzz in your brain nearly drowns out the feeling of cum pumping into you, without a doubt filling you to the brim. He’s still in the throes of recovery when you nudge Yunho off and out of you. You would stay longer with him inside, to feel that warmth and fullness for some time longer, but your body moves on its own agenda with a pulsing desire lingering in your gut. Despite the weakness in your muscles, you walk over to the couch where Jongho waits patiently and quietly. His gaze is heavy on you when you drop your hands to his shoulders.
“Baby…”
“Don’t stop her now, babe,” Yunho interjects. You don’t spare him a glance over your shoulder or anything like it — the movements of your body are methodical and calculated, a firm straddle over his hips and spread legs before you reach down to put your hand next to his against the length of his cock. Together, you guide him into your used cunt, pushing him in alongside the cum threatening to drip out of your body. A sigh of relief leaves your lips once he’s securely inside you.
“Feel good?” you whisper close to his face. Jongho’s cheeks are flushed, his pupils blown own so wide that you can barely see the color of his irises, and his lips glisten with spit. You can’t help yourself, you decide. He has the same thought in his mind because he’s the one to kiss you rather than the other way around, lips finding each other in a fit of passion that makes your chest burn.
“I want more,” he mutters into your mouth.
“Greedy.” You lift yourself up from his lap some, enough to let his cock nearly pull all the way out of you, then sink back down with a spine-curling pleasure that makes you throw your head back and moan to the ceiling. Yunho’s form enters your line of sight, and his hand finds the base of your throat. He stands behind you, chin tilted to his chest so that he can stare directly down at you. He’s handsome beyond belief even at this awfully skewed and awkward angle.
“Open,” he commands while tapping along the column of your throat. Your lips part completely to allow him access to whatever it is he wants from you.
Jongho’s firm and strong hands squeeze at your waist at the same moment. He takes the control from your hands, and you hand it over without complaint to let him work your cunt along his length as he sees fit and to chase his pleasure in full. Yunho hooks his thumb on the back of your teeth. It effectively holds you open and steady for the moment he decides to spit down into your mouth. The warmth on your tongue makes you wince, but then Yunho is withdrawing his thumb and pushing up against your chin.
“Close and swallow,” he says in what’s likely to be his last act of dominance for the night. Your eyes remain firmly set on his face as you do so — slow yet deliberate so that he can see your obedience in its full glory. Your reward is the sweetest gift. He lays a kiss to your forehead and taps your cheek gently. “Good girl.”
You right yourself enough to look down at Jongho, sending your focus to the lover beneath you. He lets you take his face between your hands without saying a word, but the second you lean in for a kiss, he bites out his thoughts.
“You take dick like a bitch in heat, sweets.”
“Y-You’re the one—” your voice sounds about as wrecked as you feel “—fucking me dumb.” Jongho slides his hands along the lines of your body until he reaches your ass, where the skin is still sensitive and burning from Yunho’s earlier punishment. He palms the flesh harshly enough to make you cry out. “Want you inside too.”
“One wasn’t enough? How much cum do you need?”
“She’s a proper cumslut, really Jongho. You know this.” It’s unfair that Yunho sounds totally recovered and unbothered by the rough sex you just shared; meanwhile, you’re thoroughly wrecked and still going through the motions, working towards another impending orgasm on Jongho’s cock.
“Close?” he asks with a lilting tease hanging off his tone. You push yourself against him as best you can, close enough to knock your forehead into his.
“I bet you’ll cum first, big boy. Your needy dick is begging to breed me.”
Jongho’s nostrils flare at the accusation, but it’s an accurate one with the way his haphazard thrusts are becoming more and more staggered. Nothing inspires Jongho quite like a small competition though, even if it encourages him to play dirty and reach around to your front. He plunges a hand down alongside where his cock meets your body. Your bubbling complaints about his dirty tactics fall short at the mouth of your next orgasm, and he all but steals the air from your lungs with a few little twists of his fingers on your clit. He cums with you immediately after — but after nonetheless, as you’re certain he’ll note later on. Your body sags atop his even as he drives his length into you a few more times for good measure and to milk himself for all he’s worth, adding another load to what Yunho’s already left in you.
Said man makes another appearance too, with bottles of water in hand as he lowers himself to the couch cushions right beside you and Jongho. You take one of the presented bottles with a quiet murmur of thanks, easing up from your slumped position to take several greedy sips in an effort to soothe your poor throat.
“By the way,” Jongho tilts his head in Yunho’s direction. A moment passes that’s full of silent anticipation, and it’s only when Yunho’s brows start to furrow that Jongho finishes his thought. “Her tires are fine.”
The incredulous look you get from Yunho makes the ruse well worth it, and the small flare of anger that crosses his eyes briefly only serves to make you want to tease him further.
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please like & reblog this work and consider leaving a reply or sharing your thoughts in a reblog or ask!
this work belongs to caly / hongism (2023). do not copy, repost, or plagiarize in any way.
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pocketjoong · 9 months
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REACTING TO BFF!ATEEZ'S AIRPORT LOOKS | ot8 x reader
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GENRE | crack, smau
WARNINGS | some cursing?
NOTES | I think I'm funny (I'm not) but I wanted to do something for ATEEZ's airport look so here we go!
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veryberryjelly · 4 months
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sugar lips
pairing : jason todd x reader
prompt : christmas baking
𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲
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the rest of the world didnt get to see jason like you did.
the world saw red hood, the un-named criminal.
you saw jason, the true softie who brought you tea in the mornings, who cooked you dinner twice a week, who draped a blanket over your body when you fell asleep reading on the couch.
jason, who indulged in all of your spur of the moment ideas.
even if those ideas meant he was baking gingerbread in his pyjamas. at 2 am because you couldnt sleep.
" can you pass me the eggs, jay ?" you asked, glancing up from the bowl you were currently mixing that was filling the room with a cinnamon-y scent.
he offered you two eggs to add to the mixture before leaning back against the counter top, his eyes focused on you instead of the bowl in your hands.
" what're you staring at ? " you questioned with a slight laugh, your eyes not lifting from the bowl as you cracked two eggs into it and continued mixing.
" you. " he said simply and in return a smile spread across your lips and his.
he came up behind you, his arms wrapping around your torso before his head dropped down to your shoulder.
you set the bowl down on the counter and turned around in his grasp, your arms lifting up to drape over his shoulders.
" thank you for doing this with me. i know baking at 2 in the morning isn't exactly ideal. " you said, your fingers threading up through his hair.
" i couldnt let you burn down the kitchen on your own. " he said with a laugh, causing you to lightly hit his shoulder. " you know i'd do anything for you. especially when you smile like that " he said, his hand lifting up to squish your cheeks between his fingers.
you went up onto your toes to press a kiss onto his lips.
when you pulled back you could taste sugar on his lips.
" have you been eating the decorations ?" you asked a slight furrow in your brows.
" how else did you expect me to stay awake without eating the icing ?" he argued.
you couldnt be even remotely mad at him when he looked at you like that.
" ok, just make sure i have enough to decorate, i want to take these to your family on friday "
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@animegirlfromvietnam
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strlingsav · 3 months
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Ride
– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader
— Western AU: You have a run-in with notorious outlaw, Ghost.
Explicit sexual content under the cut. Read at your own risk.
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Boisterous laughter and loud conversation made it difficult to hear John beside you, though you were hardly listening. You were too preoccupied with surveillance; scanning the crowd for a familiar face- or mask, more appropriately. It seemed most folks had let loose for the evening, but your eyes and ears remained sharp as you peered around the room.
Nightfall had come, cooling the hot sand of the desert and bringing with it the expectation of drunken patrons. Candelabras, oil lamps and a roaring fire tinged the saloon red and camouflaged the smell of cigar smoke. It was the usual for the small town, the only source of entertainment and drinks within a hundred-mile radius.
It'd been a while since you had the privilege of relaxing, even if you were still hyper-vigilant. Your exhaustion came from sleepless nights while on your travels. Unable to let your guard down under the stars, you'd hardly slept in the last few days. Sleeping on buffalo pelts and red dirt; your eyes were weary and tired, though there must've been a look of contemplation in your eyes.
"What's got you quiet?" John asked, leaning in closer. "Worried?"
You looked over at him; in all his drunken relaxation and exhaustion from the day's ride, he still read your expression with ease.
"Not worried," You shook your head once- unconvincingly. "Watching."
"Think you're waitin' for somethin' bad," He joked, elbowing you a bit harshly for your liking.
"Think you're a bit too drunk," You tossed back, watching him grin.
"Loosen up, kid," He scolded. "Only here for the night."
You were about to respond, when the saloon went dead-silent; the clinking of lost coins falling as patrons froze in their footsteps, the low shuffle of chairs while they searched for their pistols- likely dropped carelessly in a drunken stupor. The tune from the piano abruptly stopped, and all heads turned to the swinging parlour doors.
You lifted your gaze and there he was. Ghost.
Your jaw clenched, sitting up straight as you watched him slide in effortlessly, like he was unaware he'd stopped the world for a second. His boots hit the floorboards with heavy thuds, his spurs clanking and spinning with each step. You watched him tip his cowboy hat to the barkeep, who appeared no less than terrified.
"No trouble, alright? Hardly finished cleanin' up from last time," The barkeep said, stern yet wavering.
"No trouble," He nodded, taking a seat at the bar.
Most of the activity had resumed, though more than half of the townsfolk had escaped the moment he stepped inside. You didn't blame them; he was an intimidating man, and his stoic nature left questions and whispers at his back. You perched up further on your seat, eyes locked on the mass of muscle that made himself comfortable on the foolishly small stool.
"Ghost," John hardly whispered- disbelief, fear, a combination of both. It ran a shiver down your spine. "Never thought I'd see him here again."
You remained silent, studying the cowboy as he hunched over the bar and nursed his drink. He peered over his shoulder, finding your prying eyes and staring right back. You swallowed harshly, wondering if he recognized you. If he knew it was you, sitting mere feet from him.
Of course he knew it was you.
"Let's get out o' here before the shite hits," John swallowed the last of his beer, throwing his coat over his shoulders.
"I'll catch up," You nodded.
John was hesitant; he knew well you'd handle your own, stand your ground, but stray bullets have no name and he worried for your life. Ghost's reputation was not one of gentleness and kind deeds- he was an outlaw.
"C'mon," He ushered.
"I'm finishing my drink. I'll catch up, John," You insisted.
He finally conceded, pulling his arm through his sleeve before nodding curtly.
"I'll pay the barkeep and stablehand. I'll come lookin' if I don't see you in the mornin'."
You nodded in response, watching him stride past the masked man, head turned as he investigated. Finally, he disappeared from the saloon, leaving you to your own devices as you sipped your whisky. It wasn't without your appreciation- but unbeknownst to John, you knew Ghost better than anyone.
Your eyes drifted around the room, not noticing him stand from his stool and approach your table until you heard the spurs hit the floor. You lifted your head then, and watched as he pulled the chair out across from you to sit down.
His scent immediately washed over you- gunpowder and rolled cigarettes. The fresh smell of whisky emanated from his lips as he spoke through the black mask over his face. The deep, inviting accent made your body shiver- already planting arousal in your womb without any effort.
"You here on business?" He asked.
"Pleasure," You replied, finishing a gulp.
You feigned relaxation, letting your shoulders fall and your back hit the chair as you leaned further away. This was your game, your routine- you enjoyed the part you played, even if it took an astounding amount of willpower not to climb onto his lap.
"Seems you're in the right place," He said back, raising his head to look at you.
"Thought so," You added. "Wasn't sure when I didn't see your face plastered around town."
You watched the fabric of his mask move- a grin. You smiled softly, smugly.
"Reason for the mask," He responded. "Lucky few get to know my face."
You raised a brow.
"Colour me flattered."
"You interested in a ride, sweetheart?" He asked, thighs spread as he leaned back in his chair.
You swallowed again, this time finishing your drink. Your hand held your chin up as your eyes met his with a glimmer of sadistic enjoyment. He watched your hat tip, and you brushed a stray lock of hair from your face as he stood to his feet.
He lead you upstairs- a room he'd rented for the evening while in search of you. You'd met a handful of times, always finding each other in the chaos of the saloon and ending the evening in whatever bed was available.
Since then, he'd come to terms with the fact that he'd ride to the ends of the earth to find you. The laws he had to break hardly mattered, neither did the "wanted" posters or the townsfolk cowering in fear at his very appearance. None of it mattered as much as finding you. You left him chasing the very hint of you, the smallest pieces he could get his hands on just for the chance of relief.
He risked his freedom every time he strolled into town. It was common knowledge everywhere he went; his previous crimes still kept him labeled as a wanted man. He could've ridden off, started a new life under his true name, but you brought him back every damn time.
"Y'were hard to find," He muttered, his lips haphazardly pressed against your neck.
He'd corralled you against the wall while his fingers worked open the buttons on your breeches. He'd ditched his hat and mask, thrown recklessly on the floor as you danced around each other in an attempt to disrobe.
"Maybe I didn't want you to find me," You answered, your arm wrapping around his head as you pulled him closer.
"Doubt that," He answered as his calloused hand dove beneath your pants, and was welcomed with warmth and wetness. "You like knowin' I'll find you wherever you go, sweetheart."
You grinned, your ego slowly shattering as his fingers teased between your thighs. Warm, calloused fingers slid through your folds, eliciting a jolt when he purposely evaded your clit. You huffed softly, humming amusedly in his ear.
"Nowhere to hide from Ghost," You whispered in his ear, making him groan. "I think you like the chase."
"I do," He grinned against your neck. "But now that I've got you- there ain't nowhere left for you to run."
You shivered as he circled your clit, the softness in his touch a stark contrast to his other hand; an iron-like grip on your waist, keeping you pinned against the wall.
The room itself was quiet and dark, lit by only a few candles and the smell reminiscent of the fire roaring beneath you. You could hardly make out his face in the orange light, but your head turned to meet his gaze, and his lips upturned subtly.
He missed you; most everything about you. Truthfully, you weren't very hard to find. You left every possible clue and trace, in hopes he'd track you down. You never stood a chance against a man like Ghost, anyway. He could practically smell you from the town over.
His cock was pressed against your thigh, a sense of anticipation creeping up your spine. You grasped at his vest and work shirt as he slid two fingers inside you, lips against your neck again as he hid his soft grunts from you.
Long fingers stroked firmly inside you, his thumb caressing the bundle of nerves above. Your knees had weakened, pushing your hips against him in an effort to get closer- to get more.
"Ghost," You muttered softly, hands planted against his chest. He was still nipping and kissing at your neck, still driving his fingers into your pussy. "Get on the bed, cowboy," You said- firmer this time, and it caught his attention.
He pulled away slowly, withdrawing his fingers before placing them in his mouth and sucking softly.
"Beautiful," His lip twitched, removing his holster from his hips while he backed up.
You followed, shrugging off your blouse and stepping out of your breeches while he unbuttoned his work shirt.
Usually, Ghost wasn't one to allow a woman control, but the way you looked riding his cock was enough of an incentive to listen.
He collapsed on the bed, taking hold of your waist as you climbed on top of him, straddling his wide hips and setting your palms on his chest. His eyes were drawn to your chest, then your stomach, then your pussy, where he felt his cock rest between your folds and shifted your hips to feel the slick wetness seeping from your pussy.
"C'mon, then," He grunted, jerking his hips up to earn your attention. "Ride it, love."
You smirked- abiding his pestering by gently coaxing his cock inside you, a slow descent to fullness, earning an airy exhale as you found yourself seated on his hips.
He groaned, aggressive hands guiding your hips back and forth, up and down. He watched as your head fell back, toes curled beneath you while your hips strode forward.
"Ghost," You exhaled again, fingernails digging into the muscle and taught meat of his chest.
He sat up, his hand finding the small of your back, matching your rhythm with short thrusts. His other hand used heavy pressure against your clit, head tilted up while he watched your eyes squeeze shut with pleasure.
Your stomach twisted, pace increasing while you fell deeper and deeper, closing in on your orgasm with ambition. Your hips retreated, desperate to ease the over-stimulation and try to bring yourself back to present, before he tugged you closer and rammed his hips up into you.
"Don't run from me," He chided, eyes face-level with your bouncing tits, he brought one of your erect nipples to his mouth and sucked hard. "Take it, love."
You gasped, your body pushed over the boundary of stubbornness and finally allowing your orgasm to pass through your insides. Your entire body filled with heat, flushing red-hot blood through your womb as your pussy clenched around his cock.
"So good," You managed a whisper, jaw clenching before you sucked in a sharp breath to regain clarity.
"No cunt as good as yours," He grumbled, his hot tongue running across your breasts and circling your nipples. His fingers dug into your soft flesh, your body nearly crumbling in his hands. "Keep goin' sweetheart."
Your laboured breaths spurred him on, leaning against the wall as he sat up to finally kiss you, harsh lips enveloping yours. He sneaked his tongue inside your mouth, teeth nipping at your bottom lip.
"Y'want it in you?" He asked, nearly breathless.
You nodded, eyes glazed over and too exhausted to answer. He released inside you, muscles tensing and cock twitching as warm spurts of cum coated your walls.
You took a moment to catch your breath, before dismounting and collapsing next to him with a huff.
"You onto the next after this?" He asked.
"Gotta be," You tilted your head to smile softly at him. "Can't stick around for long- people get suspicious."
"Come with me," He said, less of a question and more of a suggestion.
"You wanna run away together?" You asked, grinning.
"I'd turn myself in 'for I let you get away again."
You let out a short chuckle, "Alright, outlaw. Get your rest- we're gone at dawn."
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robins-misfortune · 5 months
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Y/N: Why is everyone so obsessed with top or bottom? Honestly, I’d just be excited to have a bunk bed.
Roy:
Roy: I'm gonna tell them.
Jason: Don't you dare.
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likebatsoutofhell · 10 months
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eat eat eat
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thelargefrye · 2 months
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February Filth Fest : DAY FOUR : PUBLIC SEX ... mature one - shot
pairing : outlaw!mingi x f!reader
genre : western au, outlaw au, smut, slight comedy
word count : 2.2k
warnings : language, mentions of crime, weapons (guns), mention of a bar fight, probably incorrect horse things (you've been warned), murder (yn shoots a guy)
smut warnings : unprotected sex, public sex (in an alleyway)
note : a part of a western au that i've been working on since october, so i hope you enjoy this little teaser
honorary tag : @sanjoongie
the town is thrown into a ruckus when an unknown stranger comes into town, but why exactly is he here and what does he want?
DAY THREE ↤ THE OUTLAW ↦ DAY FIVE
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you knew something was going on int town when there was several older women gossiping. and not just one group, but several. someone new was in town, but who?
you knew it wasn't hongjoong, because if it was him then he would have come by to see you. not be in town and causing a ruckus.
perhaps it was just a traveler, they usually come through town to get supplies before leaving to the next town.
"miss y/n," a voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you turn your head to see one of the younger women rushing over to you. you recognize her as eunha and she comes up to you with a smile.
"have you heard about the stranger that arrived in town this morning?" she asked, voice in a whisper and you raise an eyebrow at her. curious as to what she would say.
"is that what all the fuss is about?" you ask and she nods excitedly at you.
"yes! he's got all the other girls swooning over his looks and how mysterious he is. rode into town this morning on a friesian horse and booked a room at the inn," she says and the color of the horse is what catches your attention.
"a... black horse you say?" you ask, tilting your head to the side and she nods her head.
"yeji saw it this morning and said it was the most beautiful friesian she had ever seen. those are so rare to see in these parts, expensive too," eunha says. you knew how rare that type of horse was in these parts, so it shocked you that this stranger would be riding one.
"would you excuse me, eunha, i need to finish my errands for the morning," you say and she nods, bidding you a farewell before rushing back to the other ladies.
"friesian horse, huh?" you say, clicking your tongue before you continue on your way. you'll have to talk to this "stranger" when you get back to the inn.
just as you're about to step into the inn, you halt in your footsteps as you look at the horse tied to the post outside. the horse and you look at each other before the animal lets out a few nays and sighs. it's hoof driving into the ground and kicking up dirt. you couldn't help but feel see red, fist clenching by your side as you recognize the horse.
you let out a sigh before attempting to calm yourself. putting on a smile as you turn towards the inn doors and walk inside.
"welcome back miss y/n, did you get all your errands done?" the innkeeper, sooyoung, asks as you step into the inn you had been staying at for the past three weeks.
"i did! anything happen while i was out?" you ask, walking over to her and hoping she would tell you anything about this stranger that had the town buzzing.
"got a new neighbor across the hall from your room. i would be careful though," she says, leaning closer to whisper the next part, "fella seems a little too suspicious if you ask me."
you smile at, "don't worry, i'm a big girl that can take care of herself," you say and she quirks an eyebrow at you, but doesn't question you.
"if you say so," she says and you smile before making your way up the stairs and to your room.
as you walk up the stairs, you pull the room key from your dress pocket as you reach the end of the hallway. you put the key into the lock and as you unlock the door to your room, you hear a door behind you open.
you open your room door, but don't go in. "you've made quite the ruckus in town," you say and you hear the stranger let out a deep chuckle.
you turn your body to see the stranger standing tall in all his glory as he leans against the doorframe of his room. a smirk on his face and hat tip just enough to almost obscure his eyes from your own.
and then you feel the rage you felt earlier wash over you as you look at the stranger. you drop your basket to the ground before marching over to the stranger and shoving him into his own room. you watch him stumble back, clearly not expecting you to have shoved him. he barely manages to catch himself, hands landing against his bed as he still falls to the floor.
carefully, as to not alert sooyoung, you close the door behind you before turning. mingi opens his mouth to say something, but you are quick to cut him off.
"you bastard," you said, teeth clenched tightly together, "you stole my horse!" you yell pointing a finger at mingi who looks at you with wide, shocked eyes.
"i-i didn't steal your horse!" he says immediately, as he tries to ease your anger. it doesn't work.
"then care to explain why the fuck my horse is outside the inn right now, when i sure as hell didn't ride her into town?"
"h-hongjoong said for me to take cher and ride her into town," he says, and you frown at his words but you say nothing. so he takes this chance to continue. "he sent for me to come find you, that he received a letter from yunho giving him info on this new gig."
"new gig?" you question, crossing your arms as you watch mingi stand up and sit on the bed. you takes something out of his pocket before handing it to you.
you read the letter, looking between the paper with hongjoong's handwriting and the outlaw in front of you. you turn on your heel, crumbling the paper up before tossing it back to him.
"you're lucky hongjoong saved you or else i would have shot you for riding my horse," you say before leaving the room. mingi watches as you pick up your basket before going into your room and letting the door close behind you.
its a few days later when you are walking through town near the saloon when hear a number of different shouts and other noises coming from the bar. at first you are startled by the noises, eyes darting over to the town's saloon that isn't a stranger to the bar fights that break out every now and then.
however, this bar fight felt different. mainly because you knew mingi was lurking around and being a wanted criminal in a town that frequented other outlaws and bounty hunters didn't look good for him.
"fuck..." you trail off with a huff as you make your way over to the saloon, crouching right below the window. just enough to peek and see what is going on.
and sure enough there mingi was standing in the center with his pistols out and shooting at whoever is also shooting at him.
at least take cover you dumbass, you think, rolling your eyes. you're about to reach for your own pistol, willing to risk exposing your cover to help him when you hear the neighing and whining of a familiar horse.
turning you see cher throwing her head back and forth, front legs up and attempting to kick at the three men who are... trying to steal her.
"hey!" you shout, taking your pistol out and running towards the three men. "that's my horse you bunch of stealin' bastards, get away from her!"
"now little lady–
you immediately cut one of the men off by shooting a warning shot near his feet making him jump up and yelp.
"i told you to get away from my damn horse! now get, i don't miss my shots and that was your only warning."
then men are quick to look between each other before back at you and you notice one of them attempts to reach for his own pistol and you immediately shoot the man, watching him fall over dead.
the other two run off, leaving their dead buddy and you rush over to cher, to make sure they didn't harm her.
"hey girl, i've missed you. hongjoong and san been taking care of you?" you ask with a smile and you pet the spot between her eyes on her head. she lets out a noise and you laugh before hugging her. "hongjoong at least knows how to take care of you. sannie not so much," you tell her.
"i didn't know you were some type of horse-whisperer," you hear mingi say from behind you and you turn to see the outlaw looking at you with a smile. he looks a little roughed up, but probably nothing that has bothered him before. "also, san was taking good care of her. talkin' to her just like you were," he adds.
"she's a smart girl, he better be talkin' and takin' good care of her," you say matter-of-factly. "he learned from the best after all."
you watched as mingi walked closer to you, and that's when you noticed a cut across his nose. you note that'll treat him later when you get back to the inn – if that was even possible thanks to mingi's bar fight and you killing guy.
"whoa, what happened to him?" mingi asked, kicking the foot of the man that laid dead next to you and cher.
"him and his friends were trying to steal cher, so i took care of him," you tell him, "which wouldn't have happened if you didn't leave her alone to get into a bar fight."
"listen i–
"no, not here. too many ears around," you cut him off, pressing a finger to his lips to shush him. you look around before seeing that no one was around before dragging him to the alleyway nearby.
once the two of you were alone in the alley, that was when you started to yell at him.
"god, how could you be so stupid! starting a bar fight, what if yo–
mingi cuts you off by smashing his lips to yours and effectively shutting you up. you are stunned for a second before you return the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull your bodies closer.
you tangle your fingers into his hair and mingi's hand travel down your body and to your waist. however, before he could do anything you gripped his hair pulling him away from you. he let's out a small cry at the grip you have, the two of you out breath from the kiss.
"don't think this means you're off the hook," you say with a serious tone and mingi hums before he's kissing you again.
his fingers come up to untie your dress before you're hiking up the skirt of your dress and he's undoing his pants. you watch his dick spring out, already more than half erect and you wonder if the bar fight had anything to do with it.
you'll tease him later.
you feel a sort of adrenaline run through you as you realize that the two of you are about to have sex in an alleyway that anyone could possibly see the both of you. mingi pulls your undergarments to the side before he's rubbing the head of his cock between your folds.
the two of you let out several moans as you lean against the wall in order to hike your leg up as mingi pushes his cock into you.
"oh fuck," he says, his hand coming up to move your leg to wrap around his waist as he bottoms out into you. "fuck, so tight."
mingi gives you an experimental thrust and takes your breathy moan and your walls squeezing around him as the go head. and soon he's setting a quick pace, and maybe the knowledge of being in the open is fueling his speed.
the two of you don't say anything other than a few curses here and there as mingi leans down to press his lips against your neck. his cock abusing your pussy that hasn't had a cock in it in almost a month. you were desperate to come and encouraged mingi to go faster.
"f-fuck, mingi– f-fa-faster," you say with a moan, leaning your head against his shoulder as you feel your juices begin to leak down your thighs.
mingi doesn't say anything, instead listening to your pleas in going faster and his moans fill your ears as he goes even faster than what you thought was possible.
"i-i'm close," he says in your ear, thrust getting sloppier than usual and moments later he's stilling inside of you. you feel his cock throbbing inside of you as he fills you with his seed. mingi attempts to ride through his own orgasm to help you reach your own.
you also manage to come with a cry of his name, eyes filling with white spots as your head comes back to rest against the wall. you feel your body go limp from exhaustion as mingi rests his body weight against you and the wall for support.
after several minutes, mingi pulls away from you and brushes away any stray hairs that decided to stick to your face.
he opens his mouth to once again try and say something, but you cut him off before he has the chance, "you still aren't off the hook. wait till we get back to camp."
you then fix your dress, retying it before you're making your way out of the alleyway. mingi can only watch in shock at you before he follows quickly behind you.
"hey wait!"
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tag list : @frankenstein852 @watamotee33 @kawennote09 @mixling-blog @marahleiwhen @kpopnightingale @harry-the-pottypus @pyeonghongrie @sanniesbum @marvelahsobx @khjcoo @mysticfire0435 @exfolitae @dementedaly @simeonswhore @moonm1st @nvmbheart @spooo00oky @frgogh @sookacc @seongwin @burnsmepls @ad0rechuu @tunaasan @northerngalxy @silverpixiedust23 @cheesekimchi @confusedmoonchild777 @mjyungi @innieontop @iweirdthingsblog @s0obinluvr @worcesheshestershiresauce @moonlightgrleric @wineyoungie @jeongwangjessmina @lemineso
networks : @cultofdionysusnet @cromernet
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ewwboys · 6 months
Text
Roadkill°Ateez Drabble {Rated: X}
Criminals! Woosan x Victim! Chubby! Reader
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! Stockholm syndrome, Crime, Outlaw Au, Captive!Reader, SMUTTY material, Dubcon, and Drunk! Wooyoung.
"Wake up!" He barked, abruptly turning on the motels light. "Daddys home." Wooyoung squeaked as he swallowed the green bottle. His hot cheeks shone from the alcohol he was consuming.
As he moved towards your trembling figure, your back was against the headboard. "wooyoung.." You begged, your gaze averted from his.
Wooyoung's mouth floats up your thighs and over your leg. "Mmm..Sannie had alittle trouble with the van." You are well aware that you should not believe whatever this fox says.
You mustered the courage to declare, "Your handcuffs are missing." "You wouldn't hurt San?"
He rolled his eyes. "You're such a fucking crybaby," Wooyoung said as he plays with your hair. "You're boyfriend handcuffed in the van." He chuckled. "And he's pissed."
He took advantage of your stunned silence to kiss you. "I'm your boyfriend too, Right?" You feel especially responsible for paying greater attention to San, but you had your reasons. "The cops shot him and you were looking for a doctor."
Wooyoung's anger & jealousy started to brewing. "You love sticking up for him and being his good little nurse."Wooyoung's large hand snatched your wrists, bringing you closer to his handsome, scuffed-up face despite the metal imprinting on your skin. "Well, I'm hurting bad too." He whined, roughly forcing your legs apart to make way for himself.
You exclaimed as the bulge massaged itself between your thighs' soft fat. "Ah! Woo,"
He's smitten for you. As he devoured your lips, his inky black hair tickled your cheeks. "Mmm..mwah" The menace teased you by releasing your swollen lips. "Nurse, You look hot in distress."
You helplessly moaned as he smothered you with his lips leaving you sandwiched between him and old worn mattress.
"Ah♡!" You cried out as he helped himself.
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ghouljams · 8 months
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Outlaw!Cowboy!König can kidnap me anytime 🫠
You know people hate tax assessors but this is just ridiculous. As soon as you set foot out of the general store you were scooped up by a giant of a man as he swung onto an equally large horse. You didn’t even have time to shout before you took stock of the situation. Even less time before a bullet whizzed past your cheek, just grazing your skin in a way that makes you reevaluate your career choices. 
“Quit shootin’ you fuckin muppet, he’s got a hostage,” The sheriff you’d met this morning shouts. You watch him grab his deputy’s gun and point it away from you. You watch the local law grow smaller over the shoulder of your apparent kidnapper. They’re not even trying to come after you. You’re a little insulted.
You’re finally maneuvered off the man’s shoulder when the town is safely behind you and the prairie is stretching out infinitely before you. You’re settled in front of him in the saddle, bracketed by thick arms and powerfully muscled thighs. You try not to be intimidated, but this is your first time being kidnapped.
“Wie sagt man das auf Englisch,” The man behind you mumbles to himself, your ears perk up at the foreign tongue. It’s not usually German you’re hearing in these parts. “Sorry for-” He fishes for the word.
“Grabbing me?” You supply.
“Ja, grabbing. I do not grab women,” He tells you, thinking for a moment, “normally.”
“I suppose that’s comforting,” You lean forward to pet the horse’s neck and his arm wraps around your waist to keep you in the saddle. 
“Wie geht es dir so ruhig?” The absolute amazement in his voice is as much translation as you really need, you can guess the rest. Probably wondering why you’re not screaming your head off.
“I get guns pulled on me a lot,” you tell him. Although usually that only happens when people owe money on their taxes. Honestly as far as worst case scenarios go, this has been frighteningly comfortable. You can’t imagine it’ll stay that way long.
The man’s arm leaves your waist as you lean back against him, not too against him but enough to let him know you’re not trying to make a run for it. Instead of grabbing the reins again he grabs your jaw, holds your face between his fingers and tips your head back. You blink up at the shadowed features of your kidnapper, the black bandana, the dark brimmed hat, he’s got some sort of grease around his eyes to darken them. That’s smart, you think, better to hide his features if he ever wants to go into town without shooting the place up. His eyes are so piercingly blue as they stare down at you, you wonder if he might be part angel with eyes like that.
“Schöne,” Again he isn’t talking to you, his voice is low and undirected. He’s a mumbler, you think. He looks forwards, lets go of your face so you can too, but his hand doesn’t leave you. It drops to your chest, an action he seems to think better of when you try to squirm away, then to your stomach. “You are married?” He asks, and you aren’t sure that question bodes well for you.
“Not anymore,” His fingers stretch so wide over you, a reminder of how much bigger he is. As if you needed one.
“Verwitwet?” You don’t know that one.
“What?”
“Your man, dead?” He tries again.
“Oh,” You think that's a rather callous way of putting it, but it's sort of a callous subject, you suppose, "He ran off."
“Ah,” His hand presses a little more firmly against you, forces you back against him, his hips fitting neatly with yours, “Das ist gut.” You feel the roll of his hips with the movement of the horse, his hand keeping you held close. You grip the saddle horn tight, try to quell the heat he’s working through you.
“That’s good?” You swallow, trying to keep your voice steady. The way his hips move, the way he holds you, he’s making sure you know the intent behind his question. You more than know it, you can feel it simmering in your stomach. Without the whole kidnapping thing, he might’ve been your type: big and warm, broad chested and strong enough to swing onto a moving horse with you potato-sacked over his shoulder.
“Gut für mich,” He hums, hand sliding lower to press between your legs until you curl over his arm with a whine. “Good for you too, ja?”
“Ja,” You agree without thinking, “yeah, yes.”
“Good.” The way he purrs it so close to your ear makes you want to push into his hand. Only in your dreams has a man made you feel like this. You were married once, sure, but you didn’t particularly like your husband, and he certainly didn’t touch you with such thick appreciative fingers.
You wonder how long it’ll be ‘til the law comes to get you. They can’t leave a government assessor out in the desert without a marshal knocking on their door. Still, you sort of hope they take their time with it.
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yoditopascal · 1 month
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Middle of the Night
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"In the middle of the night, I'm wide awake, I crave your taste. All night long 'til morning comes. I'm getting what is mine, you gon' get yours"
a/n: inspired by the comic Red Hood and the Outlaws VOL.1 Dark Trinity, I just read it and couldn’t get this idea outta my head
warning: MINORS DNI 18+, phone sex, first time saying ‘i love you’, Jason Todd is a warning all of his own
Jason Todd who stays up late in his little makeshift “bat cave” doing research on the next crime lord he’s about to take down but tonight he can’t focus
He knows he should be neck deep in his work not have his head in the clouds but all he can think about is you. How your home all alone in bed without him, probably sleeping in one of his shirts or that night gown he likes-
“Get a grip” he says shaking his head to clear his thoughts
It almost works for a second… almost
The next thing he knows, amongst the cheap takeout containers, his phone is going off, it’s a text from you.
Speak of the Devil
‘You busy?’ it says
He looks at the time, it’s a little past 4am. Christ what were you still doing up, didn’t you have work in the morning?
Just as the thought bubble popped up as he started to text back his phone goes off again, this time you’re FaceTiming him.
“Shouldn’t you be asleep by now?” He answers the phone with a wince. That came out a little harsher than he meant it.
“Can’t sleep.” You mumbled a reply adjusting your bonnet.
“Didja try?” He asked with a raised brow knowing you probably didn’t
“Missed you too much” you fake pouted “aaaand I may have been out with some friends earlier”
“Aaah so this is a booty call” he teased with a smug look on his face. Your cheeks darkened with a blush
“Shut up it is not! I really missed you!”
“Suuuuure” he continued
“Ass” you chewed you bottom lip as you readjusted the camera so that you were sitting on your bed hands free crisscrossed. When you moved he got a peak of your panties underneath the shirt which he realized was his.
“So what time did you get home?” he asked as he tried to focus on the computer screen in front of him but found his gaze drifting back to you on his phone
“Oh like three hours ago, me and the gang just went out to a club” you said nonchalantly
“You take your knife with you?” he asked with a serious tone
“Yes Jay and I wasn’t alone.” you rolled your eyes before propping your chin on your fist.
“Doesn’t matter you know how shitty Gotham can-“
“I know I know but I’m not worried” you interrupted him with a small smile
“Oh? You’re not huh?” he asked raising his eyebrow propping his phone up on his desk so he could mimic you propping his head on his fist.
“Nah see my guy watches out for me.” you smile sheepishly as you began to play with the hem of the shirt that was a little too big on you
“Oh yeah? And who’s this guy? Anyone I know?”
“You might’ve heard of him, he goes by Red Hood.” You bat your eyelashes at him
“Yeah I’ve heard of him” he smirks leaning back in his chair.
“He’s a pretty big guy and he’s super strong and handsome and-“
“Yeah alright I get it, enough.” Jason rolled his eyes turning his gaze back to his computer screen.
“You never let me compliment you.” you pout
“Change the subject.” he warns turning his gaze back to you, the look in his eyes showing that he meant what he said.
“So what’re you wearing?” you ask outta the blue, tucking your bonnet behind your ear.
“Really?” Jason deadpans as he almost chokes on his drink
“Yeah really.” you laughed
“You can see what I’m wearing” he said gesturing to his outfit with a serious face but the look in his eyes told you that he was messing with you. He wanted to hear you say what you wanted from him but you'd be damned if you gave him that kinda satisfaction
“Don’t be an ass Jay.”
“Fiiiine… I’m wearing a t-shirt and jeans.”
“Ooo sexy whatchu got on underneath?” you wolf whistle cartoonishly as you wiggled you eyebrows at him. Jason snorted.
“Are we really doing this mama?”
“Get into yuh!” you sang into the phone
“Why don’t you tell me what you’re wearing.” he said raising his brow at you suggestively
“Just one of your shirts. It smells like you.” you smile and show off what your wearing accidently flashing him your panties again
“Yeah? You miss me that much huh?”
“Always” you sigh longingly as you gaze at him lovingly. He started to do the same before he caught himself. He honestly didn't know what you saw in him to be looking at him like that all the time.
Fabric rustling on the other side of the phone broke him outta his thoughts and brought his attention back to you just as you began to pull at his shirt.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting more comfortable” you said as you pull off his shirt revealing your bare chest to him
“Fuck, you’re killing me.” he swallows thickly
“Let’s hope not.” you chuckle as the panties were the next thing to go
"God you're so pretty baby" Jason watched you as you spread you folds and began touching yourself.
"So are you." you sighed running you other hands up and down your chest teasing your hardening nipples as you went.
Jason groaned running a hand down his face as he watched, his voice was rough and you knew he wanted to be there with you. Looking back up at the phone you watched as he unbuttons his jeans and pulls them down a little letting his dick spring free from his boxers
“You’re so fucking pretty” you cooed biting your lip as you watch him take his shirt off, your fingers rubbing fast little circles around your clit. Jason rolled his eyes briefly
“Keep going and I’ll take care of you all you want when I get home.” He groans in your ear as he begins to stroke himself, already impossibly hard and sensitive after watching you. He knew he wasn’t going to last long and by the looks of it neither were you.
“You’re—fuck—doin’ so good for me. so good, baby.”
You watched as his hand moved up and down his dick, his thumb coming around occasionally to circle the bright red tip, his hips stuttering as he thought about your hands instead of his. How you’d praise him, and tell him how good he looked while you jerked him off.
You grip the pillows beneath you, needing something to ground yourself as the pleasure starts building.
“Fuck, Jay, I’m almost—”
“Look at me,” he groaned moving his hand a little faster as he watched your fingers move even quicker, before they disappeared inside of your tight hole, your palm taking up the reigns and rubbing against your clit applying just the right amount of pressure as you fingered yourself
“Need you inside of me so bad.” you cried out, he needed it too, listening to you was going to be the death of him. The sounds you were making were enough to send him over the edge alone.
“Cum with me” Jason growled, hips arching slightly off the chair he was sat at
You did as he said, closing your eyes and listening to him panting through the phone as your orgasms washed over you both.
No one said anything for a while, the only sound filling the room was heavy breathing as you both came down from your collective high.
A yawn escaped your lips before either of you had a chance to say anything
Jason chuckled “Sleepy finally?”
“A little but I can stay up a bit longer if you want” you yawned again as you adjusted your self in bed pulling the covers over you.
“Nah it’s ok I got some work to finish up here then I’ll be home soon” Jason said tucking himself in and buttoning his pants back up.
“Alright baby”
“Get some sleep princess.” He said going back to looking at his computer screens
“G’night love you.” your voice slurred
Jason froze before shooting his gaze back to you on the phone
“Did you just-“ his heart pounded in his chest louder than it had all night long, there was no way you just casually let it slipped that you loved him for the first time, nah he had to have misheard you.
Before he could ask if you were serious just now the sound of your soft snores greets his ears as he watched you doze off causing a smile to rest on his face
Love you too baby
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chikaras-garden · 7 months
Note
idk if it's too much but could i get 4 & 28 (or either one) WITH JASON AANND ROY pleaseepleaseplease i'm foaming at the mouth save me
Hey anon can I kiss you?
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Pairing: Jason Todd x Roy Harper x fem!reader
Contains: vigilante!Outlaws!reader, implied threesome, praise, teasing, they’re a throuple okay they’re all in love with each other, J calls Reader “princess”
Words: 300
Notes: 18+ or you’ll be blocked.
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Behind you, you hear Roy’s voice. “Fuck. Fuck.”
Thinking that there’s something wrong with the lock he’s trying to pick—wouldn’t be the first time he made something explode by accident—you quickly look over your shoulder.
Roy’s two steps away from being right on top of you, and he’s advancing with the swift silence of a large, predatory cat. Confused, you instinctively turn and hold up your hands; he takes your fingers in his and presses your arms back against the table behind you.
“You know how sexy you are?” His tone is dark and needy, perhaps a little bratty; you roll your eyes, and he pulls the collar of your costume down to reveal the base of your neck. “Loved how you looked when you took that guy down with your thighs.”
“We don’t have time for this,” you groan the moment Roy’s lips connect with your collarbone. Your skin reacts against your will, warming underneath his mouth, and you forlornly wish you were home instead of in a gang hideout.
“She’s so pretty when she blushes,” Roy murmurs against your throat, but you can feel that his eyes are on Jason. 
When you hear a disgruntled noise from across the room, you’re almost certain that Jason’s going to agree with you; your little team of three does not have time for this.
He’s at your side in a second, sheltering both you and Roy with his broad shoulders. And then he says, “Let me look at you, princess.”
Jason’s gloved fingers guide your chin to look up at him, and you’re met with the cold gleam of his mask. Somehow, you still know there’s a shit-eating grin on his face.
“Oh,” Jason chuckles, rubbing your cheek with cool leather. “Yeah, that’s gorgeous. Gonna have to take her home and do something about this.”
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parkjammys · 9 months
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Jason Todd's body details and new suit design
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pocketjoong · 3 months
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Imagine you are there to support MATZ during their MV shoot. You're happily cheering them on and then during the short break, you're intercepted by Seonghwa who pulls you into a warded off area where they're supposed to change between shoots and throws you right into Hongjoong's awaiting arms. Hongjoong is quick to bring his hot mouth to your neck and promptly starts biting and licking while Seonghwa kneels in front of you and simply rips your panties off before he's devouring you like a starved man, he's helped by Hongjoong's fingers playing with your clit and occasionally scissoring your folds.
The two of them edge you until you're practically sobbing and when they finally decide they've had enough of teasing you, Hongjoong has you sucking Seonghwa's cock. And even though tears are blurring your vision and the pleasure has you almost closing your eyes, your eyes are trained on Seonghwa's neck tattoo. You can't help but watch the way his Adam's apple bobs as he tries to supress any sounds, and your eyes follow the bead of sweat that trails down his neck, smudging the tattoo here and there. That's until Hongjoong has had enough of you giving Seonghwa too much attention and the only warning you get before Hongjoong's dick is sliding into you is his fingers pulling out of you.
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oddinary4bts · 9 months
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Love is a Laserquest | choi san
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☆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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