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readyplayerhann · 5 years ago

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Ghost of Himself | Choi San

═ 1. Ghost of Himself | Choi San (Ateez) Genre • gotham!au, red hood!san, assassin!san, hurt/comfort, angst Warnings • smut, forced entry, mentions of weapons, depiction of torture, (past) major character death Word Count • 2.1k About • San's been dead for five years, and yet this ghost of him stands in front of you with his face and his voice telling you he's alive.

Spooky SZN Masterlist > Jokes On You | Hongjoong (to be linked)

10042020

He came in through the window, you thought, seeing as the door remained unharmed and you hadn't heard any noise coming from there either.

You know you've missed San. You have been for the past five years after his death. The use of alcohol and aimless sex hadn't let you forget the one you loved the most and you've realized early on that you never would. That didn't stop you from trying, however.

The most you've forgotten was his voice and sometimes your mind allowed you to escape his face, if you haven't taken a peek at the pictures on the wall. Your body welled up with guilt, if you'd looked too long so you'd avoid them most times. Some turned over, others discarded on the floor beneath their original hanging place.

You should've tried better investigating his death, you knew that. You should've allowed yourself to run ragged while chasing down leads while they were still scorching. Now, five years later, all the trails were freezing cold and you might get frost bite if you went digging for one.

And even as you maintain the fact that you've forgotten his voice, the intruder in front of you sounded exactly like him.

San's words were always smooth and velvet-like, even at his worst moments. Even when he bleeding to death in your arms.

"I got the best view in the world." His body was going limp, and he still managed to make you heart fluttered. The syllables glided easily over his tongue, even as blood filled his mouth.

Was your subconscious toying with you? Were you unconscious and fighting for your life in the real world, while your brain played this sick fantasy?

"Y/N?" The voice called out again and your body rattled with uncertainty. It sound exactly like him.

"No." You sounded sturdy, reliable, but your voice contradicted your frozen stature.

The masked man moved to remove his red helmet, the protective garment hissing as it disengaged from his black body armor. The helmet is pulled from his face, and this man looked exactly like him. A sharp jawline fed into smooth cheeks that held the hidden treasure that were his dimples. His eyes were dark, swirling with adoration in the pale moonlight of Gotham bleeding through the window. His hair was jet black except for the blonde tendrils at the forefront of his hairline. He was captivating, just as he was all those years ago.

Your mind wondered back to the crime scene photos that plague your mind for so long. You blinked and the stranger's face faded into one of torment and agony.

"It's me, Y/N." He took a step forward - towards you - thick black soles pelting the floor of your hardwood. The ground trembled.

You snatched your gun from the counter, quick and pointed at the impostor's face. If your hovering finger pressed down on the trigger a bullet would spiral out of the coil, slicing through the air and right between the man's eyebrows.

A smile twitched onto the intruder's lips and his hands came to hang in the air by his torso. The body armor was tight around his body, every inch dipped in inky black. The only contrast provided by his suit was the blood red bat symbol on the middle of his breastplate along with a tattered earth tone jacket hanging off his shoulders.

He looked ready to kill.

"I wouldn't expect anything less from my girl." His voice held a fondness to it and you can't stop the feeling of comfort that flooded your stiff body. His eyes were as piercing as they were dark, prodding at yours to just believe him.

He took a step forward. You took one back. Your foot hit a kitchen stool and it made a screeching sound. San's impostor flinched.

You're reminded of his cries, and the blood dribbling from his temple as he begged to be let go. Joker didn't relent though, he only swung harder, bent crow bar hitting wary skin. The video was burned into your mind and you could never unseen the brutal torture San endured.

If only you got there earlier.

Your heart jumped in your throat and you click the safety off.

"I'm not your fucking girl. You - San - is dead." Those words scraped against your teeth as they clawed their way from inside your throat and your heart ached.

The funeral echoed in your mind's eye, bring you back to that depressing day. You were the first to cover San's casket with dirt.

Your body quivered and the weapon clattered in your hands. The five year old engagement ring was secure and rutting against the metal of your gun. His gun. The one he kept for just encase.

"I'm not dead, Y/N. I'm right here." The stranger can see your hesitation, you know he can. In the way you clutched the gun or in the way your eyes flickered from his form to the door. Maybe thinking through escape routes if this situation escalates.

San won't let it escalate. He'll keep you safe.

He took another step forward. The gun pressed even harder in his direction and your trigger finger is perched on the metallic mechanism. If he took another step you'd shoot.

"Baby," His voice was tender as he caressed the two-syllable word with his tongue. Your chest tightened and your stomach coiled. Fuck.

"D-Don't." Your voice broke, crackling like a fresh record on a spin table. Your resolve broke and San was quick to pick up the pieces. Swallowing your frame in his arms, chest pressed firmly to yours, he cradled your shivering form. Like he used to.

You both fell to the floor as a choked cry erupted from your mouth and your lips quivered. You inhaled his scent and vanilla and ash hit your nose. You pressed closer to him, nose digging at the skin of his neck. His gloved hands come to cradle the nape of your neck and your lower back.

"You died, San. I remember." Your sniffles crowded your voice, but San can understand you somehow.

When you got to the scene of torture, your core shook and anxiety swallowed you whole like a predator and you were it's prey. Panic held back, only for a bit, before spring on you from behind, mauling your body as the light from San's eyes dissipated.

"I did, but I'm back now." His breath pelted your exposed ear and you surged closer to the man. You could feel him over the body armor, crafted muscles tight and stiff.

"We had a funeral." The whole affair was somber in nature, you cried the whole day. And the following week. And the years to come sporadically.

He lowered a fleeting kiss to your temple, fingers rubbing patterns into your hips.

"I know."

"Then how are you here?" You don't know when you started believing the man in his attempts to prove to you his identity, but you supposed the road easily traveled was better in your sniveling state. So you trust him. At your own peril, you knew.

San inhaled sharply through his nose and you can feel the expansion of his chest beneath your back. His throat cleared and he whispered, "I made a deal with the devil."

It's cryptic and he knew it, but he doesn't continue and you don't press him for details. He's grateful, but he knows he'll eventually have to explain.

Right now, though, he was going to hold you for as long as you'll let him. You missed him.

You don't ask anymore questions and just sit on the floor in his arms. He rocked your body and continued to mutter affirmations of his existence to you.

You don't know how it happened but, your lips fell on him. Needing and wanting. San responded easily.

His lips were burning as they met yours and he swept a thumb over the peak of your cheekbone. Maybe in an attempt to sooth you, you thought. Tears transferred from your cheeks to his as you kissed back, teeth knocking slightly and lips moving haphazardly against one another's.

San pressed impossibly close to you, thin sleep shirt crumbled against tough body armor. His lips released yours and you gasped for air, mouth going wide as his glided like ice across the expanse of your neck. His teeth peek through, catching on your pulse point and frost rushed up your neck. The coils in your stomach tightened and you fell closer into San's frame.

He caught you, gloves discarded and scarred hands spread wide to grasp your hips. His fingers dug deep, afraid he'd lose you if he loosen up again.

You rocked into him, needy and whining. San's grip tightened and you can feel the bruises forming as you teased him more. You don't care, though, because it's him and all you've wanted was him.

"Baby." His voice was low and grated at the edge of your nerves, frying your senses and numbing you to everything, but him.

Your nails clawed at his armor, impatiently, wanting to feel his skin on yours. San tugged your wondering hands from his chest and you pull back with a quizzical look. He flashed you a devilish grin.

San reached behind him to pull at the zipper of his body armor, before the material loosened around his frame. You helped him out of it, grasping the sleeves for him to pull out of.

His muscles rippled in the shallow light and you ghosted your fingers over them. His abdomen was inked in bruises and scars. They ate up his torso and marred his chest.

The sight pulled you from the lust clouding your mind, your fingers effortlessly finding every imperfect path of skin, red and scarred, "What happened?"

San looked away, face bathed in the dark shadows of your apartment. You rested your hands on his cheeks and pulled his gaze back to you. His eyes held a hazy glaze to them and it took him a moment to recuperate. His brown eyes eventually focused in on you, swimming in what you thought was guilt.

"I don't want to talk about it." San whispered into the cool, night air.

This time you pressed, "San-"

"I'll tell you later," He promised, lips skimming your neck, letting his tongue dip out to tease the purple and blue painting adorning your neck, "I just want you, right now"

"I want you too." But I know you're hurting, San.

You can tell he's changed. The scent of San that tickled your nose as he lavished wet kisses down the expanse of your chest isn't the same, but it still struck a cord within you. His voice was rougher, dark and restricted, but still manged to have the playful edge to it that you fell in love with. The once smooth skin of his abdomen held great stories of torture and anguish. Even though it was him, it was still not him. He's been tainted and you can see, touch, and taste the filth radiating off him in waves and all you want to do his allow that filth to taint you as well.

You allowed your body to connect with his and you felt yourself to be whole again in his presence. The ache in your chest subsided and complete and utter love bled from your heart. You're bleeding adoration, it's getting all over San and you're terrified he might drown.

But San absorbed the blistering, crimson love like a sponge and offered his body like a nurse would a band-aid. A quick fix, before lasting damage can set in. Like the infection of the soul, or the unneeded scarring of the heart.

"Please don't leave me." You grunted out as you reached your breaking point, your grip on San's neck unyielding and fierce. The coils of your stomach begged for release, just as you begged for the assassin's presence in your life.

"I won't." The words fell off his lips and spilling onto yours, heated and gentle. You and San met each other in the middle; you came crashing down and he ascended as he shot his warm load into your sopping cunt. Your walls restricted around him.

A whimper overtook your mouth and you shivered against San's huffing frame.

"I love you." His arms were warm around you.

"I love you, too." You whispered back to the ghost of San, frighten he might vanish just like he appeared. ��

#choi san #san #ateez #ateez san #ateez smut #ateez imagines #kpop #kpop imagines

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livereleaseconvergence-blog · 5 years ago

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SOUND ARCHIVE

Listen to the collage of sounds from Live Release, a listening convergence here: https://soundcloud.com/thelakeradio

LIVE STREAMING:

Join people from around the world for a global listening convergence - 4,5 hours of sonic reflections from 21 countries on the past months during a global pandemic. We consider listening to be a radical act of care, convergence and border crossing, intended to spark a sense of connectedness in a time of isolation, fear, and rising nationalism. From Egypt, Iran, Russia, Japan, Turkey, US, Argentina, Sweden, Denmark, Netherlands, Canada, Mexico, Chile, Greece, France, Finland, Norway, Belgium, Spain, Italy and Germany (21 countries in all!) Streamed live May 25th 2020 from 14:00 CET (Central European Time) until 21:00 pm CET (on loop) It will be aired on the Lake Radio: http://thelakeradio.com Later it will be stored here: https://soundcloud.com/thelakeradio/live-release-a-listening-convergence

CONTRIBUTORS (by recording or production date): 04032020, Hanna Wildow och Johan Wahlberg, voice by Sara Haylett-Utberg, Elektronmusikstudion EMS, Söder Mälarstrand 61, Gränseskogen nature reservoir (previous field recording), Stockholm, Sweden, Guldsmedshyttan, Sweden, ‘and–akt (breath/spirit act)’, 3:09 15032020, Victoria Keddie, East Broadway Subway station (day lockdown started), NYC, NY, USA, ‘Empty Escalator on East Broadway’, 1:02 27032020, Maria Lepistö, Bispebjerg Kirkegård, Copenhagen, Denmark, “To Boyeo, 3:23. 27032020, Rune Palving, Frederiksberg Centeret, København, Danmark, ‘Desolated Frederiksberg Centeret’, 2:47 01042020, Carry Fucile, Inside and outside my house, Baltimore, Maryland, USA, ‘Inside, outside, upside down’, 3:11 01042020, Erica Muniz, Nordvest, Copenhagen, Denmark, ‘Antiwar song’, 04:36 04042020, Sofie Kragh-Müller, Copenhagen, ‘Speech from the people’, 6:53 04042020, Ylang Ylang, Montreal, Canada, 2:09 06042020, Morten Poulsen, 6th of April 2020, recorded through my apartment window in Østerbro, Copenhagen, ‘party 6th of April 2020’, 7:26. 07042020, Maria Lepistö, Around my home at Tomgårdsvej 92 and down the street towards Netto (Tomgårdsvej 15), inside Netto, and inside my room, Copenhagen, Denmark, To Agne’, 6:12. 08042020, Solarcher, balcony in Rotterdam, Netherlands, 10 minutes. 10042020, Ebrahim Mousavi, Ramsar (my home), Rmsar, Mazandaran, Iran ‘Shabaneh’, 2:18 10042020, Rune Palving, Vejby, Nordsjælland, Danmark, ‘Short distance exile’, 4:37 10042020, Naghmeh saberi, 10 april 7pm, Shahmirzad, Semnan, Iran, ‘Walking arounds’, 00:32 11042020, Amir Mohammad Tajmehri, Iran, 2:39 12042020, Emily CD, on my front porch, outside of San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, ‘my son reading an instruction manual’, 2:07 13042020, Renato Ortiz Sandivari Chi, Valparazzo, Chile, 3:42 14042020, Ayako Kataoka, Pier Park Skatepark, St. Johns, Portland, OR. Natural reverb from the site and inside of a full pipe USA, 4:41 16042020, Kirstine Lindemann, before going to bed, My bedroom, Copenhagen N/Korsør, Denmark, ‘Each day’, The work consists of recordings of my breath and the date of the day recorded each night from the first day of the lock down until April 24th as a type of bodily audio diary, 2:07 17042020, Andreas Oxenvad, Birkerød, Danmark, 3.05 17042020, Kristoffer Raasted, Copenhagen, ‘detached opacity’, 9:15 19042020, Magda Lampropoulou, from my balcony Athens, Greece, ‘Greek Orthodox Resurrection’, 3:37 28042020, Alice Hamon, 9:36 am, Pots and pans honoring the health care workers, rue Belle de mai, Marseille, France 21042020, Deniz Erden, from my bedroom window, Eşref Efendi Street, Şişli, İstanbul, Turkey, ‘as it exists within us; blending into joy after sorrow.’, 2:01 21042020, Margarita del Carmen, Through the chimney of my home, Copenhagen, Denmark, ‘whistling territories’, 03:29 23042020, Ylva Ranckel-Lutz, Coffee Time, Västervik, Ekenäs, Finland, 3:18 23042020, Mohammad golshani, My room with my guitar, Tehran, iran, ‘Her’, 0:38 25042020, Teresa Duggan, kitchen radio at home, Baltimore, USA,‘FM Radio Spin, 5:58 25042020, Jan-Maarten and slime mold Andi, inside a cupboard, Rijswijk, Netherlands, 02:24 26042020, Id m theft able, ‘kiss the smear off the window, 10:00 27042020, Junko & Sulan, The home studio, in the living room of the apartment located on Störtloppsvägen, Västertorp, Stockholm, Sweden, ‘Brass stream’, 3:13 27042020, Marcia Bassett, Brooklyn, New York (between 2703 and 2704), 02:44 27042020, Soheil Shinrangi, Tehran, Iran, ‘The vital sounds (For Fixed Media And Accordion)’, 06:30 28042020, Alice Hamon, 9:36 am, Belle de Mai Street, Pots and Pans Honoring the Health Care workers, 2:30 28042020, Amanda Brannin, Austin, Texas, USA, 4.48 28042020, Nazanin kianmehr, My room on my bed talking to my boyfriend, Kerman Iran, ‘Sleepy nazanin’, 00:14 29042020, Arash Pandi, Balcony of our apartment in Amager, mixed with other recordings, Copenhagen, Denmark, ‘Life within a life’, 4:40. 29042020, Sanjey sureshkumar, sounds from in my apartement, Lofoten, Norway, ‘Sanjey out of my daily rhythm’, 5:17 29042020, Tom Sonntag “sonn”, Recorded in my home (studio), Copenhagen, Denmark, "A soundVIEW", 5:34 30042020Chad Powers, 30th april 2020, Unionvill, Indiana, USA livingroom and surrounding countryside , “Between here and there”, 9:59 30042020, Arash Khani, in my room, Tehran-punak, Iran, 3:16 30042020, Diana Duta and Julia Edyck , telematic collaboration from 2 apartments, Brussels, Belgium, ‘wave debris’, 10:00 30042020, Felicia Konrad, drying room in cellar, Malmo, SE, ‘Oracle’, 2:07 30042020, Anna Kölle and Lula Marzulli, Studio DE, rooftop next to church IT, Casamassima/Italy, Berlin/Germany, ‘Springtime, Stringtime and Time’, 3:47 30042020, Teresa Columbus, Studio, Franklin Street, Baltimore, Maryland, USA, ‘Chipping at the way on the chips on her shoulders’, 1:49 01052020, Sasha and Sena, Barcelona, Spain and Hamburg, Germany, "ASMR gifts", 6:13 01052020, Cecilie Jorck, Ollerup, Fyn and Rømø and Copenhagen, Denmark, ‘Time and Here’, 11:40 01052020, La Claud, Naples, Italy, ‘Weakness-praying for healing in Tibet’, 2:01. 01052020, Lera Salnisova, Russia, ‘acid track with Cardy B's "corona virus" samples’, 5:33. 01052020, Karen Werner, Through my apartment window on Bispengsgaten overlooking Bergen harbor, Bergen, Norway, ‘Ships, Ferries, Barges play their horns on May Day’, 1:41. 01052020, Morita Vargas, In my bedroom, Buenos Aires, Argentina, ‘Bajo el sol’,, 1:54. 01052020, Uri Duble Nation, home studio, Tokyo, ‘Summerland’, Japan, 8:01 01052020, MV Carbon, recorded in my backyard on the cement stairs, Queens, New York, USA, ‘Circling In’, 09:21

01052020, Masoud Ahabanpour and Mohammad Ghanbari, Iran, forst part of a new song, 01:30 02052020, Victoria Shen, Great Meadows National Wildlife Refuge Concord, MA USA, ‘Bog Animals + Plane’, 03:12 03052020, Alice Hamon, 8 pm, harbor, boat sirens honoring the health care workers, Marseille, France 3:20 03052020, Victor Valqui Vidal, Onomatopoeia poem, my apartment, Copenhagen, DK, 0:35 07052020, Martin Christoffer Lund, in front of my computer screen, Copenhagen, ‘sensing zoom’, 05:07 08052020, Cerpintxt/ Alaa Yussry and Youssef Hassan on bass, Cairo Egypt, ‘Les Perishables’, 7:39 09052020, Hasse Bruun, Nørrebro, Copenhagen, Denmark, ‘We are Spirit call’, 04:23 10052020, Alice Hamon, 3:31 pm, Parc Longchamps, Marseille, France, Birds Windy Day 1:00

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