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cakeinthevoid · 10 months ago

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Only A Dream

scurries out of the haunted walls of academia and real life responsibilities—coughs this out and scurries away again but my leg is broken

heyyy everyone!! Sooo….. I had this dream. And somehow, I was able to write this neat thing! It’s nearly 3.5k words long… And I did too much research…. I’ll just… leave it there… wait last thing: I’d die for John and Juno. Ok that’s all.

Contains: pirate whump! Hurt comfort! Snarky MC! Angry MC! Female MC! Forced to join! Vague flashbacks to physical and emotional trauma! Gun fighting in the background! Manual labour! (Feel free to send in an ask if you want more deets before opening)

The crew was packing, moving ships to make room for supplies. First mate Juno made sure everyone was doing something useful.

Which is why Delia could not fathom why she was made responsible for labelling crates.

Labelling. Crates.

She still couldn’t believe it, even as she was writing gunpowder on the parchment and sticking it onto the barrel with paste.

She bet half the crew couldn’t even read!

And yet Juno led her to the abandoned smithy where they were holding supplies, handed her a roll of parchment and ink and told her to mark every container. They only said not to write ‘too fancy-like’ and left to go do whatever they needed to do so the crew could leave by noon.

Whatever they were doing, it was certainly leagues more exciting than labelling crates.

Delia moved onto another crate anyway. Before she could peak inside, a clatter at the entrance sounded—someone tripping over the debris lying around and cursing.

Delia wasn’t startled; it was only John and it was already his third or fourth time tripping over that junk.

John made his way over, a crate of something in his arms; only his forehead and cloud of black of hair peaked over its height. He tried setting the box down gently, but it still clanged as it hit the floor.

He wiped his brow and the colourful beaded bracelets he wore jangled against his dark skin. “No ‘hello, John’? Are you okay, John? Thank you John for bringing me another crate?”

Delia rolled her eyes. “Do you expect to hear it every time?”

John made a show of thinking, bringing his hand to his chin and furrowing his brow. “Hmm. Yes, actually,” he said at last. “Some more appreciation around here would be welcome.”

“Tell me about it,” she muttered. “So what’s all this then?”

“Fragile merchandise,” he said, wagging his finger. “Juney wants it labelled as kitchenware.”

“Why doesn’t Juno come in and label it themself then?”

He clicked his tongue. “Little bird, that’s your job.”

“It’s a dumb fucking job.”

John made a noise of disapproval. “A year with pirates has fouled your mouth so? For shame, Cordelia.”

She pressed her lips in a tight line and glared. He’s lucky he didn’t call her your highness or Princess.

John laughed. “Easy now, I come bearing good news! This here is the last crate. Last one I’m bringing, anyway.”

“There’s more?” There had better not be.

“Eh,” he shrugged, “Not sure. Probably not. Most supplies went to the Mayflower.”

The Mayflower. Captain Mor’s latest pirated ship. Erik would be manning it, and Delia would be on his half of the crew—the rest sticking with Captain Mor on whatever new ship was added to their fleet.

It was also the one on which Delia truly became part of the crew. At least she thought so. Hard to tell when she was suddenly demoted to labellor.

“Who labelled the other crates then?” Maybe she wasn’t truly alone in her suffering.

John cringed at that. “Ehm. They weren’t.”

Delia stared at him in silence for a beat.

She tried to keep a level voice: “What do you mean they weren’t.”

“Ah well, they might’ve! They likely were! I just didn’t see. I’m old, you know.”

“You’re like, twenty-five,” she said dryly.

“Older than you,” he amended. Only by three years, she thought, annoyed.

“So basically Juno gave me a fools errand.” She had already suspected, but for it to be true… it hurt a bit, to her surprise.

“No, no of course not!” He reassured. “They do everything for a reason, surely you know that.”

Delia sat and slumped on a crate labeled blankets. “Mhmm.”

“Hey,” he crouched to be at her eye level. He opened his mouth to say something, but an explosion sounded outside.

The both of them startled upright simultaneously, but John got on the move quick.

“Stay here,” he said seriously, halfway to the entrance. “Protect the kitchenware!” And he was gone.

Delia pulled out her pistol, the weight of it comfortable in her hand.

Then she waited.

The ruckus grew outside, and Delia felt stupid hiding away in an old smithy when she was just as good a shot as needed.

She found a small part of her wishing for some of the action to make its way to her. She imagined some hooligan storming in, how she would raise her pistol and—

Bullets came flying in through the walls. Delia dropped for cover behind the blanket crate, pistol in hand and pointed in the direction of gunshots and yelling.

The noise began dying down long minutes later, cries for doctors ringing clearly.

Delia was trying to focus on the sound of footsteps running down the street, getting closer.

She caught glimpses of familiar figures through the new bullet holes in the wall and got up from behind the crate.

Juno stormed in first, their normally composed demeanour full of anger.

“Wesley, Novin, Clive, Kingston, start loading the crates. Aiken, Grace, cover them. Now!” They barked.

Everyone called upon scrambled out, grabbing the nearest crates, whether they were labeled or not.

“Delia!”

“Yessir,” she responded immediately.

“You’re coming with us. The Mayflower had to go off—damn bastards bombing the damned port—“ they cursed almost to themself.

Delia didn’t understand why this warranted a one on one. “Did… was someone-“

Juno shook their head and twirled their gun around their finger, heading back out. “Thank God no—not yet anyway. No, go load the crates, but I don’t want you boarding that ship until I get there, understand?”

“What? Why?”

But they were already gone, rushing back from where they came from.

Delia had half a mind to chase them down, but pulled herself together, going for a crate. Novin was already back to pick up another one, so surely this new boat wasn’t far.

Best get back to work then, she thought and followed Novin out, crate in hand.

——

With the initial bloody chaos from the explosion nearly settled, it wasn’t difficult to make it to the new ship and back.

At least, it wasn’t difficult for the first few rounds.

By her… fifth box maybe? The exertion was getting to her. The lack of the usual crew banter as they prepare for departure made her that much more cognizant of soreness in her arms and the painful way the crate would jut into her stomach.

Juno was running a tight operation. And Juno being stressed was as good an indicator as any that the rest of the crew should be stressed too.

Delia only caught a glimpse of them as she was dropping off yet another crate at the mouth of the dock where Aiken sat twirling his gun. Juno was carrying up a body into the ship.

When Juno caught her staring, he yelled across the docks for her to get back to work. She quickly jumped into action, running back to the smithy to replace the cold dread in her chest with the heat of her lungs burning.

“Where’s the fire?”

Delia whipped around as she neared the smithy. Grace.

“Grace! Juno—body, on the ship,” she panted, out of breath.

Grace looked away. “Right…”

“What?”

She hesitated. “Delia…” she started slowly.

The ice was back in her heart. Time froze.

…and was promptly shattered by Novin, bursting out of the smithy and snapping.

“These crates aren’t lifting themselves! Can we hurry up already? I swear…” He shoved between Grace and Delia, despite the room around them, and headed to the docks.

“I’ll let you get back to it,” Grace said quickly. She disappeared to wherever she found the best view to keep watch before Delia could form words.

Damned Novin. Rascal of a little brother behaviour.

——-

Several crates later, she was dying of thirst.

Not dying, no most definitely not; she had endured far worse. But she was definitely thirsty enough to try her luck with Aiken.

Unsurprisingly, he told her to piss off.

Another few crates later, her vision was growing a little spotty. The sun was rising and she was already sweaty enough from the labour.

After dropping the next box in front of Aiken, she stumbled forward, off kilter. She caught herself on the crate and blinked the spots from her eyes, taking a few breaths.

She looked up to see Aiken staring at her, brown eyes wide under the shade of his hat.

“Can I please have that damned water now?” She said through gritted teeth.

He gave her his canteen.

She took greedy gulps, but left enough in the canteen. You never left someone without water. She handed it back to him without saying anything and turned to go get another blasted crate.

Another several crates later and she thought her arms would fall off. Her neck was sore and her legs were cramping. She pushed herself off the crate she was leaning against only to bump right into Kingston, who was going for a crate to take up to the ship.

“Don’t get up on my account,” his deep voice rumbling with humour. “Wesley, Clive, Novin and Grace are getting the last of the crates. You’re all good.”

Delia slumped back down, very relieved. “Thanks,” she mumbled, closing her eyes.

The heat was unbearable. She had half a mind to jump into the ocean right now.

She looked behind her where Kingston was already at the top of the ship ramp—carrying two boxes no less. It helped that he was the size of a house.

She rested for a while, the sound of Aiken messing around with his gun keeping her company.

It wasn’t long until she was getting annoyed again. She had just realized no one told her to start carrying crate up to the ship deck.

Either she really looked that pathetic right now or Juno had them under the same orders.

She decided to try her luck. Despite her muscles protesting, she picked up a barrel.

“What are you doing?” Aiken snapped, not unkindly.

“Might as well help Kingston with the crates.”

“In your sorry state, you’re gonna fall right off the ramp.”

She scoffed. “Sure. Try and stop me then,” she challenged, walking away with the barrel in arm.

She heard a sign and the patter of shoes hopping off a seat and making their way to her.

“Give me that,” he said, reaching for the barrel.

She angled it away. “No. Why?”

“I’ll take it up if you want someone to help Kingston so bad. You keep watch.”

“What if I wanted to take it up? And you’re a better shot than me.” It pained her to admit, but she needed a point.

“No one’s messing around on this side of the dock anyway, you’ll be fine. Sit back down, girl.”

She dropped the barrel down angrily.

“What’s going on?” She demanded. “Why isn’t anyone telling me anything? Why can’t I go on the damned ship? Are you planning on leaving me here or what?” She fumed, fists clenched and jaw tight. She’s had enough beating around the bush.

Aiken said nothing for a moment. Then he admitted, “First Mate Juno told me to keep you down here. Didn’t tell me why either,” he shrugged. “But I doubt it’s to leave you behind.”

“You only doubt it?”

Aiken shrugged. Mouth stretching in an expression that said I don’t know what you want from me, man.

“Right well, I don’t care.” She moved for the barrel again, but he intercepted.

“I mean it, Delia. I’m not losing Juno’s favour over you.”

They stared off for a few beats, then Delia threw her hands up in the air in exasperation. “Fine! Take it up yourself, then! I’ll be relaxing like a lazy cat until His Majesty Juno deigns to explain what’s going on!” She pivoted on her heel and stormed away.

Once she was settled back on the crates, she risked a look behind her. It seemed Aiken was actually taking the barrel up.

She turned forward at the sound of Grace’s laughter. Normally, Delia revelled in the sound of her laugh, but she was bitter and annoyed and now jealous that someone made her laugh like that.

She waited for the three of them, arms crossed.

“Hey, give us a hand, why don’t you!” Novin called out. Clive shook his head at his antics, white hair stark and gleaming in the sun.

Delia got up anyway. She took the barrel from Novin’s hands, much to his visible surprise, and stacked it on top of another barrel, all without saying anything.

“Sheesh,” he drawled, sticking his hands into his pants pockets.

She ignored him. “Where’s Juno?”

“Likely the Captains Cabin. I’ll fetch him,” Clive responded quickly. Delia wished he spoke more; she quite liked his strong English accent. Reminded her of… good times.

She pushed the thought away before it could fully form.

When it was just Grace and Novin left, Delia rolled her eyes. “What, did Juno forbid you from the ship as well?”

Novin muttered something foul and got to work. Grace frowned and let Novin get ahead.

Out of his earshot, she spoke softly to Delia.

“Juno is trying to help you. And I’m here for you, too. I didn’t agree with his plan, just so you know. So… if you want to go on the ship with me before he gets back…”

A Delia not already pissed and annoyed would have said yes. But this Delia was bitter—irritated that it wasn’t only Juno, but her best friend discussing her behind her back.

Against her better judgment, she said coldly, “I think you have a lot of crates to carry until then,” and turned away to avoid whatever look would appear on her face.

She heard Grace get back to work, but only risked a look back after she counted to 100. Aiken was coming back.

But she had a plan for that. As he approached, Delia occupied herself by lifting crates at random. Naturally, Aiken couldn’t resist inquiry, asking what she was doing.

“Just lifting the boxes. Trying to guess how much they weigh. Not much else to do here,” she muttered under her breath, but just loud enough to be heard.

Aiken just hummed.

Delia lifted another box, one she carried here herself.

“How much do you think this one weighs? We can say the same number on three. If we say the same, we win.”

“My God, you really are bored.”

“Just lift the box,” she said. “Careful though, might be weapons in here.” She handed it to him.

As soon as Aiken grasped the box, Delia pivoted and gunned it to the ship.

She heard Aiken cry out, but he needed to set the box down carefully. It was just the head start she needed for her sore body after carrying dumb crates all day. This time, her body burned with adrenaline.

She skidded on the dock, the ship a blur in her sights, and used her momentum to launch herself up the ship ramp. She caught a glimpse of Aiken not even halfway down the dock. She couldn’t help but laugh.

Finally, a win.

Cackling to herself, she sped up the ramp, landing on the ships deck with a jump.

“Ha ha ha!” She grinned wildly and walked with purpose to the centre of the main deck. To her right, she saw Grace and Clive looking down with alarm from the quarterdeck.

“I mean, seriously, with you guys acting like the guard—“ she snorted, giggling. She let her gaze wander to her left, to the main mast. “I don’t know, maybe there really should have been something… something…”

Her eyes stuck on the main mast. They weren’t parsing the information they saw very well—why did the mast look odd, she knew that mast, she had felt it because was it not—was it not the very same mast—

Running. Cold water. Screaming.

The mast filled her vision.

Pain, pain, PAIN and fear, so much fear. He was gone, she was alone. He was there, there were people surrounding her.

She put a hand on the mast. It had a different texture, like it was sanded or glazed, she couldn’t tell. She could only feel—

Thick ropes. Burlap. Thrown to the ground. Refusing to cry. Crying anyway. Hard wood of the mast. Tied to the mast, tied to the mast, tied and gagged and stripped—

There were hands on her shoulders, pulling her away. She pulled out from under them, gaze skittering around. Suddenly, everything was painfully familiar. The grain of the deck, the details in the guardrail. Every swirl and pattern that she had counted. She was so bored, she needed the distraction—anything. She begged, she remembered begging, please stop, stop stop stop, please I beg of you stop please—

“Stop, stop I—“ she came to herself in an instant, like ice water flooding her mind. “Get away from me! This was where—this is where—“ she stumbled backward as she turned, gesturing. She felt nauseous.

“Delia—“ Grace tried and good Lord it struck her how she was Cordelia once.

“This is why you kept me from boarding?” She looked around wildly, too quickly to properly identify faces but she thought she saw Clive on the stairs coming towards her—but then it was Juno’s voice.

“Calm yourself! You’re going to fall off the damn ship!”

“You… sick bastard! Why didn’t you tell me! You wanted this—it was always mind games with you—getting me to break and—“

“Delia!” Grace cried, affronted.

Grace went on to say something but there was a rushing in her ears and dread was growing in her chest and she felt trapped and contained but she was out on the open air and all she could think to do was dodge Juno and run to the forecastle of the ship, lunging up the stairs. Too many people on main deck—someone was blocking the ramp—

Juno let her, the sane part of her mind realized. Juno needed no effort at all to stop her advance, and yet they let her past.

She was shaking now, shaking with fury and a hidden grief she refused to recognize because it would break her. To realize, to accept, that she had joined the very people who had kidnapped her—literally pirated her.

Cordelia crumpled to the ground. She needed to get her breathing under control. She would not become undone at the mere sight of some—some stupid mast when she had survived the damn thing and more!

“Breathe with me. Come on, hold it in longer. In…”

Grace… Cordelia choked on her breath, shaking her head.

“You can do it. Can I help you? Please, Cordelia…”

In the corner of her vision, she saw Grace gently place her hand out on the ground, right near her own tightly fisted hand.

With great effort she moved to hold it, gripping it tight.

Grace took it as the permission it was to help her fully. Just like old times.

“Come on,” she said softly, moving around Cordelia. She put a hand around her back to help shift her upright, leaning against the balusters of the guard rail.

Cordelia brought up her knees, wrapping her free arm around them. Her other hand was still wound around Grace’s.

“I got you.”

Cordelia shuddered.

“I got you,” she whispered.

Delia leaned into her body, hiding her face in her shoulder. She felt like memories would pull her back any second—

“What’s wrong with her?”

She stiffened, but didn’t pull away. But if Novin dared to come any closer, she couldn’t be held responsible for decking the new kid.

“Oh, nothing to worry about!” Captain Mor’s booming voice travelled across the ship, accompanied by rumbling laughter. “Our Delia here has just gotten a reminder of the last time she walked this ship!”

Delia gripped Grace’s hand tighter. She glided her free hand up and down Delia’s arm.

“Some bad memories I gather!” Captain Mor said in response to something. “Again, worry not, lad! Things are much better now—for starters, we have food!” She laughed. “Isn’t that right, Delia?” She called up.

Her heart was still hammering in her chest, but she managed a small, unconvincing affirmative.

“She says yes, of course, Captain,” Grace said much louder than Delia could’ve at the moment.

Thankfully, the Captain moved on. Just as well.

Delia had no more strength to muster. Exhausted physically and emotionally, she let herself melt into Grace’s arms. She tried not to think too much, hoping that her body and mind would shut off without fuss.

She hadn’t wished for that in a while.

But maybe she could just pretend, that if not the past several long, long years of her life, if not this whole adventure, that this one day could be a dream. Only a dream.

If only she was that lucky.

—*—

#my cake #pirate whump #one shot #manual labour #original characters #OS Cordelia #OS Delia #OS Grace #OS Juno #OS John #only a dream #female whumpee #hurt comfort #let me know what else I should tag :P #hope y’all enjoyed!!! In the process of writing I actually have soooo much looooore #feel free to send in asks if you’re curious #I prolly won’t be writing for this ever again otherwise :P

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moonlight-hwa · 1 year ago

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This is my second reading Golden Hour and I just absolutely love it. It so beautifully written and just so soft, fluffy and romantic. And those are the things I love most when reading fics, especially in terms of smut and you did a wonderful job writing it💗

Golden hour

THIS IS 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI FOR MOUNT'S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut) (masterlist) (join taglist)

🟡 pairing: bf!san x fem!reader 🟡 genre: smut, pwp, a lot of fluff, established relationship 🟡 summary: in the busy urban jungle, one fateful night at a jazz bar, choi san met his angel of light. from then on, each moment is a breathtaking golden hour, your love a wondrous duet. 🟡 wordcount: 6.5k 🟡 warnings/tags: loving bf san, jazzman!san, you are the apple of his eye, trumpet player, two lovebirds making it in the big city, discussion of marriage, discussion of planning for the future, yes he wants a future with you, late night coffee, being goofy, lots of hugs+heart eyes, lmk if I missed anything! 🟡 a/n: presently in the middle of being a san appreciator and listening to a lot of jazz, which resulted in quite a few song references being interlaced in this ahah; thank you so much for your support, any reblogs, comments, thoughts always appreciated!~

🟡 perma-taglist: @legohwas @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @cqndiedcherries @uwuheeseungie @cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @mystar1024 @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @memoriesofwoo @ate-ez @toxicccred

🟡 nsfw tags: switch!san/the softest dom!san, switch!reader, the sheer volume of pet name use (sweetheart, darlin', love, angel, my light, my sun...), slight(?) hints at exhibitionism, light nipple play, lovebites/hickeys (giving/receiving), fingering, oral (f!recieving), handjob, hugging during sex, slow and steady, multiple orgasms, cockwarming, riding, unprotected sex (wrap that before you tap that pls), cum inside, soft and gentle aftercare

Enchanted by the ghostly wisps of steam rising from the cooling rich mahogany brew, twirling into the barren nightscape until they were nothing more than echoes of a magical breath, you waited. You were tired of conversing with the shadow stretched before you, from the sun-like lamp light rays that hopped from the window at the top of the stairs all the way down. So you sat there, between the fourth and the fifth floors of your apartment complex, studying the circular holes in the steps that had become your rocking chair for reminiscing. At nights like these, you took things slow, and let yourself sink into an intimate fragility. Only you and the remnants of a busy late night shift. The hair and skin, which even after bathing seemed to cling onto most, if not the entire bouquet of aromas from the bar; the hands, still bearing the traces of coolness from having heaped buckets of ice into overpriced drinks; the faded eyeshadow, the lipstick - most of it transferred to the mug of coffee, steadily approaching lukewarm, cradled in your hands. Habitually, you traced its rim, feeling for the chip in the ceramic that it sported like a scar, after you had accidentally dropped it on the counter. Its presence was grounding. A reminder that you existed in a world beyond the endless cycles. That sometimes, the unpredictable could happen to you too.

You found companionship in the fluorescent light perched above a sign that attempted, but failed to remind the locals not to litter, and the miniature exhibition of waste backs collected right below it. This scene, viewed from so many metres above, was almost poetic. It was endearing seeing the last hints of humour that your neighbours managed to retain despite the bleakness of the complex and its surroundings. Windows facing brick walls and going grey from smog, a cacophonic roar drilling into the ear drums from the ceaseless chatter of clubbers and late night diners ambling down the nearby wonders of nightlife. The flickering, leaking neon signs above business either long-closed for the day, or just beginning to awaken were practically pitiful, and yet, you could not help but feel a twinge of sentimentality when your mind traversed the area, reminding you of any changes you had spotted, new faces, new flyers; these were the only things that, without fail, would greet you as you walked back home in your midday, another’s time for deepest slumber. Perhaps one would think you were alone or lonely in this hour, remaining out of dreamland solely to tomorrow’s disillusionment. But to anyone who would dare propose something so ridiculous, one look at the smile that graced your lips as soon as you spotted a familiar figure making its way down the courtyard, and stopping to wave at you - knowing full well that you were sat at the stairwell, would be enough to cut any argument at its root. While he was not someone who you came home to often, despite you having lived together for what was about to be a year, Choi San was the music that soothed your soul, the sweetest song, the melody of your heart. He was there for you, and you were there for him. Even if that meant turning into a nocturnal creature, conversing aimlessly with a cuppa into the early hours.

You closed your eyes and counted his steps. Both of you had made it something of a routine to avoid the main entrance. Initially it had been as a joke and as a means to flee from the permanently vexed madam in her seventies who lived on the ground floor, shrill voice and a shivering, bitey pooch cooped up and cradled like baby; she had seen the two of you in states deemed dissatisfying in her view, and as such had turned into a guardian of the complex. A guardian from two young fools who lived to the fullest. In an adoring duet, you had found paths to your comfort, and soon enough, the emergency stairs were an ascension to your palace - shared paradise spanning a couple of rooms.

San’s resolved, confident steps as he made his way up the stairwell, skipping the second, avoiding the worn down centre of the step between the first and second floors; it was so worn down, in fact, that on some nights when the moon caught this side of the building just right, it was like a fallen star. You grinned to yourself as you recalled this theory. That star worked hard on giving you your wish; the wish whose slicked back, jet black locks you could already detail in your line of sight. As he made the last turn, you gripped your mug tighter; somehow, even after years of knowing this man, of loving this man, San never failed to ignite the warmest, cosiest flame within your soul. The home you had dreamed of, found not in four walls, but in this gentleman, who was now standing before you, hand outstretched and a gentle smile on his face. You graciously accepted the assistance, and let yourself be lifted off the ground with a light pull, to come face to face with your boyfriend. Your precious, funny valentine, with a heart of gold.

“Hey, darlin’, now, I told you the gig was gonna run ‘til late, why’re you up? And with your coffee?” he drawled as he searched for a place to put the case for the second most precious aspect of his life: his trumpet, settling on a nook closer to the inner railing - protected on all sides from a fall. You hummed, and took another cautious sip, studying the man before you.

Despite having woken up at the crack of dawn to walk you to your second job before commuting to his own, there was still that inextinguishable glint in his magnificent dark eyes. Feeling your gaze on him, San rolled his shoulders back, as though he had not a hint of weariness in his muscles, accidentally forcing one side of his favourite jacket, a vintage brown piece made of corduroy, to slip and commence its slow climb down his upper arm. Sighing, you twisted to set your cup aside on one of the stair steps, and made a move to fix it back in place, ignoring the way in which San's hands rapidly snaked to your waist.

"Mm, missed you Sannie." You responded, smoothing the non-existent creases on the black t-shirt he was wearing underneath, your touches lingering as if you had not rested your form on his chest thousands of times, each occasion imprinted in your memory for as long as there was music.

"I missed you more, Y/N…” his eyes darted a couple of times to your hands, only to slowly rise, and focus on the black top that you had chosen to change into after your workday. San exhaled, amused as he imagined you waddling around the apartment wrapped up in that fleece towel you liked, ready to raid the wardrobes. Taking the very edge at the base of the article between his thumb and index finger , he toyed with it, and stated as a matter of factly: “I can see you're stealing my shirts again."

"Well… I can take it off…" you trailed off, moving to undo the very top button, stifling a giggle as San instantly dropped his act and pinched the collar together. He shook his head, gaze glossed over, unreadable. His other hand inched a little closer to your hip, sliding down - a barely noticeable change, but it nevertheless sent sparks across your skin and left you struggling to breathe.

"Uh-uh, that's for my eyes only. Can't have you flaunting something priceless for the whole block." tugging on the shirt, he guided you into his arms and wrapped himself around you, taking in the smell of home. The aroma of his gift that was today, the promise that was tomorrow, and the dream that was the symphonies of a future to come.

It was surreal, the moment he came home. Be it to wait for your shift to end while he tried to get a simple dinner cooking on the stove, or to have you waiting, just like this, curled up on the stairs, every bit a cat basking in the warm glow that resembled the sunset in its hue, falling down the steps from the window of your, and his apartment. As he stood in front of you, etching your form into his memory as if each time he saw you you were someone new, he imagined what it would be like to truly come back at sundown. Have dinner earlier than midnight, spend the evening chatting away about this and that, hidden under a woollen throw that you had found at a thrift store. Let the last rays of the sun, departing to its sleeping quarters, wash over the two of you as you would hold one another in a long, loving embrace, rocking to the ballads only you knew and shared. Sometimes he wondered whether what he played outside of this magical golden hour that was ‘you and him’ was truly music, when all the melodies to divine adoration played in your caresses. Whether the words he sang held any meaning if they were not dedicated to you, sung to you. Whether the sultry notes of the trumpet were anything but noise if you were not there to hear it.

Crash landed into the big city, he had been a boy with stars in his eyes and boundless ambition. He had wanted to fight the world alone, head on, and had no feel for the rhythm of the metropolis, its people, its jazz scene. He had assumed that he was wanted, and oh, how wrong he had been. Rejection after rejection, San had found himself playing on the streets for a couple of bills to last the day, and had run into a debt with a cruel landlord - so large, that he had considered turning to less conventional solutions. But then, by some stroke of luck, he had met other musicians who were dreamers, warriors of the arts, those with impeccable feel for every note, every off-beat both in the pieces they would cover or improvise, as well as life. Just like that, San had found himself a band, and by the grace of destiny itself, he had found himself performing at a bar, the bar, where he had the boundless joy of meeting you.

An old hole in the wall in the middle of downtown, it had been your first place of work since moving in more central from the outskirts. Having been on the scene for a lot longer than him, sweeping, cooking, mixing - anything you could get your hands on, you knew practically all the artists around town, thanks to your appreciation of their life’s essence in the form of jazz and their habitual lingering around the bar to chat after a show. As such, a new face had immediately caught your eye, and there, your gaze stayed. All through the night. All through his impeccable covers of Chet Baker’s ‘I Fall In Love Too Easily’ and ‘Like Someone In Love’, during both of which you swore you had never felt yourself being regarded with more intensity. All through the years in which you had come to move in a shared rhythm, existing in a gentle swing, cheek to cheek. For the first time, you felt as though you were staring right into the sun, but instead of tears rolling down your cheeks and agony spreading over your body, your vision cleared and new hope settled.

This rhythm did not falter. Even when some notes were played with their respective delays or anticipations, this was all a wondrous interpretation of life as a duet that was you and your favourite, your only, beloved San, trumpet player, singer, an artist through and through. The man with a dream and the resolve to achieve it. You had promised to one another that one of these days, you will see yourselves as the makers of a new oasis. Your own corner in the glimmering canyons of steel to serve as a sunny safe haven for jazzists from all walks of life. You as the owner of the new Blue Note, him as the first man on the stage. This was the future towards which you both strode, and alongside it, a heavenly devotion bloomed.

As you rocked in a sweet embrace, it was impossible to imagine anything more right. Arms around his torso and hidden from the nighttime breeze by his jacket, you sank into San’s reassuring heartbeat and loving warmth. Caught in a trance, he pressed you impossibly close as though he had not seen you in an agonising ‘forever’, and ran his fingers through your hair while a hand rested on the back of your head. The brilliant, cascading tresses that still retained some of the aroma of the cordials and syrups you often used at your job, despite the top notes being yours, and consequently, his favourite shampoo. He admired the way in which it reflected the sunset captured in the apartment, only half a flight away, a golden luminescence that made him all the more convinced that this was where the glowing, comforting star had found safety to rest. After walking through the town that was enveloped in dark hues, passing by dingy shops and streets in dire need of tender love and care, he could not help but feel blessed that all that time ago, the sun had risen for him, and all he had the pleasure of experiencing was brighter, lighter, and any trials and tribulations were merely a simple test. He fondly recollected your first meeting, having purposefully made a detour on his journey back to walk past the location that marked the beginning of your history.

“We played at a club a couple of blocks from that place tonight.”

“Where we met?” you asked, nuzzling into the crook of San’s neck and relishing in his soft hum as he continued.

“Mhm. Actually, I walked past it while going home.”

“And?” you inquired, pulling away to glance at San’s cheeky lopsided grin.

“Made me walk faster.” you raised an eyebrow, only making your boyfriend chuckle, the honey-like tone never failing to induce a thrilling flurry in your chest.

“Damn, is it that run down?”

San imitated a pondering stance, looking off to the side before returning to study your very irises, with such attentiveness that you thought he was in a world of his own. And in a way, he was. He was convinced that, for as long as he lived, San’s best view would be exactly this. These eyes that had hypnotised him as they followed his figure from across the bar, these gorgeous orbs that held the moon, the stars, the songs sung and unsung. No matter where he went and no matter what new challenge life threw at him, all he needed was to imagine you and suddenly, everything would fall into place. The young man moved to press his forehead against yours, a strand of hair that grazed his eyebrow tickling your face and causing you to scrunch your nose. The adorable reaction proved to be too much for San’s poor enamoured heart as it skipped a beat, and in an attempt to subdue the overwhelming ache he rubbed his nose against yours.

“Nope, just made me want to see you even more.” he spoke low, focusing only on your shallow, lightly trembling breaths and the intoxicating feeling of his skin against yours.

“Can you see me now?” you joked, hinting at your closeness, hands moving to graze his sides, trailing down until you could tap his alluring waist with your fingertips, stepping forward until you were practically hip to hip and you could feel the friction of his navy jeans against your skirt.

“I don’t know, Y/N, I think I need to get a little closer…” in one cautious trailing of the jawline, he cupped your face, waited for a tiny nod from you to proceed - something he had always subconsciously done when it came to loving you, and what little space had been left between your bodies was no longer.

Tenderly, like early mist settling on the dazzling midnight sea, he worshipped you with every move. Lost in a sigh, in softest caresses, you indulged in the sweetness of his precious lips, fitting so perfectly with your own. While you had not been a believer in soulmates, the only way in which you could describe the idyllic nature of your coexistence was that it was meant to be. It was as if, even though you had your respective, independent melodies, they oh so seamlessly flowed into one, body and soul. San kissed you as though you were life itself, at such a slow, sultry tempo and yet it set your soul ablaze, caught up in a wild wind. Lost in exploring your lover, you only realised how he gingerly lifted the shirt at its base when his arms brushed against yours, causing you to snicker right against him. Immediately you could feel him retract his tongue and lean back to look at you. Your eyes fluttered open after having automatically given themselves up to a sensory bliss, only to be met with San’s signature pout that was dramatically contrasted by an enticing darkness in his half-lidded orbs.

“What…” he whined barely audibly, only making your smirk deepen.

“Now what about that ‘show’ you were talking about, hm?”

“My shirt, my business.” he attempted to dive back into a kiss, digging his fingers into your sides when you tilted your head back and chuckled.

“My lips, my business.”

“Awh darlin’ don’t tease.” he batted his eyelashes, gaze darting around your face to catch any signs of caving in to his charms. However, even if he tried his hardest, his searches would amount to nothing at all, for you would not be able to get mad at his cute face even if you wanted to. As such, your facade soon dropped and you were seeking him once more.

“Don’t be bossy.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good- Choi San put me dow-” you yelped as he stepped to the side, and with mischief flashing across his face, hooked you under the knees and supported your back, sweeping you off your feet for good. Careful not to let you hit the stairs, San’s strong arms held you tight against his chest, and he smiled down to give you a cheeky retort.

“Don’t be bossy~” playfully shaking your head, you let your hands find themselves loosely hanging from his neck, and gave into the addictive fiery pecks that he was leaving on your cheek, across your jaw, only to culminate in a deeper, ravishing kiss, punctuated by an unmistakable undercurrent of sensual longing. As your passion ascended into a crescendo, and the heat rising in your bodies was elevating into being unbearable, San breathlessly whispered the shared desire against your reddened lips:

“It’s time to quit stalling, methinks. Yeah?”

“Sounds fine by me.” you agreed, not fearful of sounding eager. Though apparently, that was not enough. While San dipped you forwards, eliciting a giggle and a compliant hooking of the trumpet case with your finger, he tried to correct you.

“Now, fine won’t do.” giving you another quick peck on your cheek, he began climbing towards the fifth floor, though you were certain that he was spending more time studying you than checking if he was stopping at the right level. Not bothering to mention the mug that had been abandoned, concluding that the beverage was always going to be nothing compared to the energy this wondrous love of yours gave you, you simply gave into the boisterous affection.

“Mighty fine.”

“A little better…” he mumbled back while stepping through the open window into your piece of urban heaven.

“Gonna have to work for any more than that, darling.”

“A challenge?”

“An invitation.”

The phrase almost made him falter as he attempted to gather at least some form of coherence before the submitting to your priceless seduction. Setting you back down onto the floor only to return to his hold of your waist, he shadowed your movements as you set the case down. At the first given opportunity, your boyfriend focused and nipped at the sensitive skin right above your exposed collarbone, one hand rising to hastily unbutton the shirt as you gasped at the contact and in a daze, rushed to tug at his jacket. Promptly, the article found itself on the floor, soon joined by the black shirt that you had borrowed and leaving your chest entirely exposed.

Entranced, San let himself be guided by you to the bedroom as he cupped one of your breasts and ran languid circles across the nipple, while catching you once more in a feverish kiss. Upon hearing the hint of a moan, muted by his own mouth, he inadvertently bucked his hips against you, the pressure on the growing arousal making him needy, and desperate for more touch. Stumbling down the corridor, you felt for the doorframe of the bedroom, stopping right underneath and running your hands under San’s black tee and up his abdomen. He obeyed your unspoken wish and gave you the pleasure of watching him undress, the divine, sculpted lines and edges of his body, muscles working overtime under his beautiful sunkissed skin, all in a magnificent dance. Before you could indulge in him once again, you felt a couple of pulls on the fabric of your skirt, and soon enough the elastic band had given in, and rolled down to let the material pile on the floor around you.

San guided your two hazy forms to the bed, hissing as you trailed kisses up his neck, to the side and nipped at his earlobe, your erratic, shallow breaths nearly sending him into a frenzy. Burning skin, each touch turned scalding making heat pool to your core; you saw stars as your boyfriend slipped his hand into your panties and ran two digits across your dripping sex to collect some of the nectar, before starting to rub your aroused clit, teasing it as you shot out to grab a hold of his upper arms for some illusion of stability. Whispering sweet nothings against your skin he laid you down onto the bed sheets; you could swear they had retained some of the warmth where the sun had hit them during its routinely finale, orange streaks stalking across the apartment. Nuzzling into San's neck you muffled your whines by turning your attention to making this moment bloom, lovebite after lovebite.

"Ah… Y/N…" he sighed, voice husky as he shifted in his half-lying posture in an attempt to get at least some friction. As he flicked your clit and glided two fingers into your entrance, curling them exactly how he knew it would drive you closer to your high, you dug your nails into his biceps to resist a tremble and uttered:

"My man, my business."

"Yours, all yours, darlin', just as you're mine."

"Mhm, ah, San, I'm- cl-" you moaned as he increased his rhythm, the wanton sounds of his digits pumping into your pussy only accelerating you to your orgasm.

"Close? Already, sweetheart?" You could sense a hint of pride in his tone, but could not form any snarky comment, thoughts turned to mush.

"Too good to me, love…"

"Now, now, and I wanted to make you feel even better…" he chided jokingly, lifting your lower half ever so slightly from the bed to slip the wet panties off fully, not once taking his eyes off yours. You tried to reach for his jeans, the erection so painfully obvious that all you could wish for was to give San at least some relief, but to no avail as he intercepted by taking a hold of your wrist, kissing your knuckles lovingly and simply requesting: “Lie back for me, darlin’, won’t you?”

Of course you would not disagree, not when you felt an emptiness from where his fingers had denied you a complete release, leaving your walls clenching around nothing, and desperation approaching an all-time high. Eagerly, you crawled and fell back on the bed, watching his figure follow you until he was hovering dangerously close, clouded over with lust. After resting his hands on your knees and then, at a deliberately slow pace, sliding them down your inner thighs for you to part your legs wider for him, he lowered himself to devour you. Placing a long kiss on your sensitive clit while holding your legs in place so you were in his temporary control, he ran his hot tongue along the length of your fold, stopping to give the bud extra attention with dedicated licking, and sucking until you were melting into the sheets and the only thing escaping your mouth were pathetic moans laced with his name and praises. As if you had been blinded by the sun, you ceased to see any definition in the world around you as your climax crashed down hard and fast, leaving you shaking and crying out for your boyfriend, who, after leaving a tentative trail of open-mouthed kisses on your pulsating core and on each of your thighs, rose to hook you under your back.

“You’re so beautiful, my love…” he cooed as he wrapped you up in a long hug, careful to let you ride out your high in the safety of his arms. He bit his lower lip as your leg accidentally grazed his clothed cock, only to squeeze his eyes shut when the action prompted him to taste you once again, sending his mind into an overdrive.

As you returned to a brighter lucidity, you gingerly fiddled with the button on San’s jeans, and proceeded to free him of their confines with the lowering of the zipper. Unable to restrain yourself from feeling the hardness of his length, you palmed it through the cotton briefs that were already showing traces of his pre-cum, and pulled down the waistband to let it spring free.

“Oh, San, please, why wait so long, you must be so on edge, I’m sorry baby…” you mumbled, lifting your hand to collect some spit, then wrapping it around his member. Instinctively his hips bucked towards you as you pumped him, barely registering how close San’s face was to yours.

“‘s alright, Y/N, but if you could… mh… kiss it better? May I?”

“Of course.”

You could taste the remnants of your orgasm on his lips and tongue, but only momentarily as he hungrily explored you. Low grunts and breathy moans fell from his mouth, only to be swallowed by your newly blooming desire for more. Deepening the kiss, you absorbed his moan as you sped up the movements of your other hand. Unable to resist the building frustration any longer, San brushed your arm and tilted his head back to show you his eyes - glazed over, full of raw want.

“I need you.”

“How?”

“I need your pussy, sweetheart.” you slowed down, teasing the tip of his cock as he gripped your hips, a coy smile dancing across your features.

“Didn’t you just have it?”

“Not enough, it seems.”

“I think we can do something about that… tell me how you want me.”

“Ride me.”

“Be my guide.”

Nodding, moved to the edge of the bed on his knees, and slid down until he was in a seated position. He motioned for you to come closer, helping you understand his wish. Raising yourself from how you had been positioned, you crept towards your boyfriend, cautiously throwing a leg over his lap until your core was millimetres away from his throbbing member. San’s hands found your ass and gave you a few nudges towards him, while you ran your fingers through his dishevelled locks, a shy smile gracing you as you thought back to how pristine he had managed to look when he had been in the stairwell. Now, he was perfect. When you tapped him to suggest your readiness, San took his cock to slot it into your entrance and with a couple of adjustments, he bottomed out inside you. Sighs combined into a single, intimate breath as his length pressed against your walls, and you rose into an unimaginable euphoria.

Foreheads pressed against one another, neither of you wanted to rush, instead succumbing to a darkness behind your eyelids and focusing exclusively on the other senses. How your inhales and exhales were equally as shallow, how the light tinge of sweat had mixed with the dark accords of his perfume - one that, after having made the step to live together, now almost permanently lingered on your skin, how the contact was every bit like being wrapped in the golden glow of a sunset. You peeked at San, catching him still in a trance, and admired how the light from the ceiling lamp out in the corridor highlighted his sharp and alluring features, all contrasted by the softest, plushest lips which you gave into the instinct to peck.

Your boyfriend gazed up at you, breaking into a heart-melting smile. Little did you know, he was counting his blessings and had to consciously remind himself that somehow you were not a sun goddess. Perhaps in disguise. You were the melody he would never get tired of hearing, the dawn and dusk that he would always greet and cherish. His muse and guiding light.

“My sun…” he pecked your cheek, flicking his nose against it while restraining himself from acting rashly. Not tonight. Tonight was all about you and him. Together.

“The light of my life…” kissing the other cheek, he groaned as you grinded your hips to have your chest almost flush against him.

“My Y/N,” “My San,”

You whispered in unison, looking at one another with an unequivocal tenderness and adoration. Two seamlessly blending into one, you did not need the days to guide you. Existing in a glittering bliss, before either of you was an angel of light. Truthfully, there need not be anything more. Only the sound of jazz to give you rhythm, and the radiance of your mutual enamourment.

As you began to ride his member, you took immeasurable pleasure in seeing San’s face contort into that of ecstasy. The fluidity of the motion rivalled that of waves that lapped the distant shores of a paradise. The oncoming bubbling of a climax that threatened to drown you in a sensual unravelling left you lost at sea, with only the rays of your favourite star enveloping you. Rocking your hips, you felt his cockhead hitting your ideal spot over and over, and whenever you would need a break, he would soothe you with a feathery touch.

The leisurely pace proved to be a build up to unfathomable ruin, as the clenching of your pussy around his hard length left San’s thoughts in a total disarray. He could not register the most basic things around him, jutting into you without a single decipherable word spilling from his lips. He gripped onto you harder, silently begging you to take him deeper, faster as his high became more imminent and he could barely hold on.

“Darling, you’re… I-I swear…”

“Ah… yes? What?”

“Can I? Please, love…”

“Yes, Sannie, please- ah!” he thrusted his hips with a newfound vigour, practically lifting you to give himself space to accelerate. The sudden change of pace sent curls of pleasure to the knot that had been building in your core, leaving you like putty in San’s hold.

“Fuck yes, Sa-an-ie… please…” lewd moans filled the bedroom as his member snapped into you with the exact beat that would send you into a frenzy. Falling apart over him, your pants rapidly turned into high-pitched whines as you could feel yourself approaching the edge to your undoing.

Just as he began to falter, you fell between his head and shoulder, shaking as another orgasm overtook you. The spasming of your sex sent him into uncontrollable pleasure and with a final few snaps of the hips, San kept you still on his cock as hot ropes of cum painted your inner walls. Embracing you like you were the most fragile being on the Earth, he glanced at you even in his half-consciousness to check if you were comfortable. Elated when you returned his regard with an elated grin, San beamed right back, giving you a quick peck before hugging you even tighter, attempting to slow his breathing while his length was still pulsating, surrounded by a divine warmth.

“So unreal… so, so marvellous, Y/N.” that seemed to reel you back from the wonderfully overwhelming sensation, and you brushed your cheek against his. Silence. Two bodies connecting, not needing the light as they lived in the afterglow. Listening to San’s heartbeat, your temple against his, you mumbled:

“I would never leave.”

“Then don’t. I would never let you go anyways.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to carry me to the bathroom.”

“I’ll even hold you in the shower.”

“Oh how romantic.” you tried to shift, only eliciting a groan from San as he cautiously moved you back, a sheepish grin on his features.

“You know what, darlin’, let’s stay like this for a bit, yeah?”

“Fine by me.”

“Fine?”

“Very, very, very fine.”

Once the two of you had in part returned from your post-coital utopia, and San kept his promise and carried you around the entire apartment as though showing you off to every piece of furniture and every wall, you were clean, fuzzy from the perfectly warm shower, and wrapped up in fresh bed sheets which you had playfully commanded for San to lay down.

After having given up on immediately settling down to sleep, you and San had dissolved into a giggly mess. You had convinced him to bring his trumpet into the room and let you have another go at playing it - even though these attempts had already likely accumulated into hundreds - without much progress. At the moment, the one piece which you could confidently play was ‘a whole lot of nothing and painfully blown out air’. As you tried for the umpteenth time to produce as much as one hint of a note, you were distracted by a sudden ‘oohing’ from your boyfriend, who was watching you unwaveringly.

“What?” you lowered the trumpet and raised an eyebrow.

“That was an indirect kiss, darlin’.”

“Come on, San, what in the world-” you hit his chest playfully and attempted to return the instrument, “I’m out here huffing and puffing and that’s what you’re thinking about?”

“Mhm, and so much more…”

“Choi San.” you addressed him sternly, though nothing in your expression even remotely suggested that you meant it.

“Fine, fine, want me to show you again and proper?”

“You know what, I think I practised enough for today.” you handed him the instrument, restraining your laughter while he returned it to its case, clipping it shut and setting it aside on the bedside table closest to him.

“Well done, Y/N.” he praised you, though a hint of sarcasm did not go unnoticed.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh at me as much as you want, but you still can’t make a bloody mary.” you pointed out, making San jut out his lower lip and nod in agreement.

“Fair.”

He opened his arms wide, leaning back onto the large pillows to invite you to rest against his bare chest, an offer which you simply would never refuse. Snuggling up to him, you were in seventh heaven. One arm over his torso and the other propping you up so you would be level, you doubted that there could be anything that felt more safe, more comforting and more adoring than this. Feeling him rubbing unrushed, lulling circles on your back, accompanied by the rustling of cotton, you wanted to dissolve in this moment, your molecules reflecting onto every surface until this was all you knew.

“Y’know, I’m s’posed to have a gig next week that’s gonna cover at least three month’s rent.” he broke through the quietude with the exciting news, making you immediately look up at him, gleaming.

“What? No way, who?”

“Some bigshot from uptown wants music for his party. And who am I to refuse?”

“Damn, San, that’s amazing-”

“And, and, and, they were looking for a mixologist to make the magic happen, so if you are happy to accept, the man’s asked me to call him back tomorrow noon,” the continuation left you stunned, and you wrapped a leg around your boyfriend, embracing him until you could barely breathe.

“WHAT? San, no you didn’t I… thank you? How? I mean…” you stumbled over your words, trying your hardest to not squeal at the opportunity.

“No words needed, lovely. See? We’re gonna save up for that wedding dress in no time.”

He stated casually, but the words sent butterflies into your stomach. You had discussed official commitment early on, deciding that this was to be in your plans for certain, but considering your careers, your desires and your dreams, you wanted to find that golden sliver of stability before taking that next step. Though, as months ticked by, you could tell San’s motivation grew stronger and stronger to be able to call you his wife.

“Oh Sannie, but I told you that I don’t need anything fancy, I just need you.” you responded, trying to provide reassurance that either way, happiness was guaranteed; but it appeared that in the ghost of an intimate night, your boyfriend found entertainment in misconstruing your words into a lustful implication.

“Say that again and you are not getting out of bed for that morning shift.” you hit his chest so faintly that there was barely any impact before hiding your face against him, not reappearing until San brushed some hair away from your face and cupped your chin, “Darlin’, I just wanna have, and live a life with you. Many lives. More than.” melting into his touch, you wiggled upwards, closer to him.

“We’ll make it.” San nodded at your resolution, glancing out into the corridor - although the lamp that had provided the sun-like hues had long been turned off, the heat of your passion prolonged its echoes.

“It’s us we’re talkin’ ‘bout, it’s written out for us. And if not, we’ll take the pen and write it. You promised I’ll be the first to play at your bar… opening night.”

You took in the adoration in his eyes, while San delighted in the same feeling that was held in your own.

“Of course. And you said that the song you’ll sing will be the one you wrote for me.” barely audible, you answered, getting closer and closer to the sun that you knew would never burn you and instead only help you amplify your shine.

“The whole set, love. My all.”

#san x reader #ateez #my hopeless romantic side of me is losing it #oh to be loved and cherished by the choi san #only a dream #I think I might be a little delusional #but oh well🤷‍♀️

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