#sans editing but i can manage that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

last-words-ofashootingstar · 1 year ago

Text

DJANGO

Choi San x fem reader x Jung Wooyoung (heavy hints at ot8)

a/n: nobody talk to me nobody touch me nobody look at me i'm loosing my mind over this comeback you don't even understand

"Ain't nobody mess with Django, call me Django." -ATEEZ

✫彡wordcount: 5.5k (sorry?!?)

(>ᴗ•) genre: smut w/plot

ಠ_ಠwarnings/content: violence and injuries, dystopian/lore universe, lots of cussing, angst, poly relationship, brief mention of drinking as coping, extreme pda LMAO, woo is a bit of a little shit in the first half, dry humping, making out(lots of it), also lots of pet names, multiple rounds, threesome, light choking&degrading, snowballing, oral, boobjob, dp, overstim, teasing, orgasm control, praise kink teehee, dom san/sub woo/switch-sub reader, m x m, unprotected( don't do that🗣️), NOT EDITED

taglist: @calicanbeevil @pansies-garden @kissezfornamjoon @wisejudgedragonhairdo

MATURE UNDER CUT MDNI

The van shook as another vehicle passed, making San groan as you fell down onto him.

"I'm sorry, Baby," you cooed softly, kissing the bruise on his collarbone that you had unintentionally fallen onto. The soaked rag that you cleaned him with was handed back to you from its fallen place on the shag carpet by Wooyoung with a soft laugh.

"You baby him too much, he's a big boy," he claps his hand onto his shoulder, making him groan again- glaring at the younger man, "right, Champ?"

"I'll beat your ass, Woo."

"Oh, I bet you will, you beat up that scrawny little guy too!" He cackles, clapping and leaning away as San swipes at him tiredly.

"He was faster than I expected!"

"You two knock it off," you sigh exasperatedly as you wipe the grime from his swollen pec, rolling your eyes at your boyfriends bickering. Being stuck in such a small space had taken a toll on the three of yours relationship- especially the two men. They were at each other throats more often than not-even it was playfully. "I'll blow our cover just to tell Hongjoong."

"You wouldn't..." Wooyoung eyes you suspiciously as you smirk. "You wouldn't!"

"I will if you two don't give me a second of peace." You cock your brow at him, tossing the rag into the pile that is your dirty laundry, silently cursing yourself for choosing to hide out with them instead of with Yunho and Jongho in their shop. They even had a cool talking bird.

You place a gentle kiss to Sans eye, a healing bruise almost faded under your lips. "Stop getting hit in the face, yeah?"

"Yeah, I'll politely tell my opponents that my girlfriend likes her boys pretty~" he rolls his eyes and whines as your body heat leaves his sore body.

"So what if I do, pretty boys happen to be my type!" You shrug and crawl off of the spent man, over to the other side and into Wooyoungs lap.

He smirks at his boyfriend cockily as you rest your head on his shoulder, "that's why she's cuddling me right n-ow!" His smirk turns to a pout as you flick his chest.

"Can you two manage a peace treaty while I get some shut eye? It's four hours drive to the next town and it's my turn to drive in the morning."

"Of course, Darling." They chime together, silently scowling at one another but keeping quiet as you close your eyes.

"Wakey, wakey," you shake the buff man softly, safely parked in the back alley of the abandoned building. Wooyoung stood just outside of the open van doors, abs on display as he changed into a better looking shirt.

"Yah, wake up!"

You glare at him as he startles San awake, who holds you close protectively in his delirium, still scared of the run in you had experienced with HalaTeez months ago. No matter how much he swears to the lot of you that he doesn't feel guilty, the way his eyes sadden when he focuses on the scar over your left brow for too long gives it away. Hala-San, as you call him to real-Sans dismay, had tricked you all too well and after that... you couldn't look at the real, loving, caring San for weeks. You had to split off with Mingi and frequented a bar, drinking away any memory of Hala-Sans torment until Hongjoong found you and picked up the pieces when the bottle ran empty.

"You dick," San rasps as he rubs your sides, his gentle touch a contrast to the way he gives his cackling boyfriend the stink eye.

"Rise and shine, Sannie~" he teases, buttoning up his shirt and soothing his long hair down, "time to get your ass whopped again."

"Oh, like you'd do any better! You'd be demolished!"

You let out a sigh and slide out of the van, soothing your dress- which in reality is Jongho's shirt with a belt around your waist. "I'll be signing in." You speak shortly before wondering off, leaving them fighting more than ever over how they upset you.

San insists it's all Wooyoungs fault for being such a whiny shit.

Wooyoung is adamant that San is at fault for hogging all of your attention.

They go back and forth for a while until a Strickland patrol vechile speeds by, spooking the both of them into the building.

Wooyoung immediately wraps his arms around your waist as they find you bent over signing Sans pseudonym, DJANGO, into the fighting brackets. San is busy eyeing everyone around you, both in suspicion of Halateez and Strickland and simply to scope out his potential competition.

"Entry fee is three k," the woman on the other side of the pop-up table looks as if she's ready to kick your trio out in a single breath when you don't provide the money, eyeing up Sans messy tank top and your days old makeup with distain.

"That's it?" You pout, tutting your tongue as you turn away from the rude woman, sighing dramatically as you dig into Wooyoungs pockets, grabbing hold of multiple tightly rolled wads of money.

Both of them smirk at your antics, so clearly eager to prove this stranger wrong about her preconceived notions about you and your lovers as you count the wads, dropping a few down before skipping past her with a wave.

The crowded arena does nothing for Sans anxiety, his eyes scanning at a million miles an hour as he keeps a possessive hand on the small of your back. Wooyoung has similar feelings as he drapes his arm over your shoulders in a way that clearly shouts, 'don't touch' to anyone who looks your way. You feel much safer on the other hand, both of your boyfriends touching you at once for the first time in what feels like ages, both ready to toss themselves infront of danger if it presents itself.

You all squeeze your way to the front, right up to the edge of the ring, where a fight is already taking place, one of the men nearly teasing the other with the way he bounces around on his tip-toes, not letting the other get a single touch in.

"She said not many fighters showed up," you practically have to yell for the men to hear you, "Strickland cracking down again!" You explain loudly, rubbing Sans lower back in an attempt to comfort his nerves as he stretches his wrists. Wooyoung has split off to make bets with other players, making sure to stick out like a sore thumb with his flashy shirt. "Might have to find a new income soon if they don't back off!"

He sighs, rolling his head back and stretching his neck out, letting you admire the freckles on his skin that he knows you love.

As the quick moving fighter finally wears out his opponent, he gets sloppy, and he starts getting hits in. You slide behind San and hide your face in his back, wrapping your arms around his waist and stroking his stomach softly. "I hate that you have to do this!"

He holds his hands over your own and rubs his thumbs over your skin, watching the man who will clearly be his opponent wailing on the other man.

"Got nine grand riding on you tonight, Babe," Wooyoung slides back into the conversation, cupping the back of Sans neck.

Although they had their on and off moments, he would always be in tune to his emotions and try to calm him. And trying to keep the peace was even more worth it when you were around. Usually, they had Yeosang as a voice of reason but he was off with Seonghwa doing God-knows what in preparation for your next mission.

Being apart was straining and stressful for every last one of you. But groups larger than three were banned by Hongjoong after four of you had caught Halateez's attention a few months back. He didn't want to risk it again and he certainly didn't want to risk a group of nine most wanted outlaws being together. The combined reward for your captures was the largest amount of money you had ever read. You weren't sure how to even pronounce it.

It was almost an entire year of being in hiding.

You didn't know how much more you could take.

"- DJANGO!!" The name catches your attention over the blaring speaker. How was he up so early? You peek around San and see the fast man catching his breath in the opposite corner. Blood being wiped up and a limp body being carried out.

"We can always find a new way to get money," you scream to San as he rolls out his stiff shoulders, whining as Wooyoung pulls you away gently. "Seriously, Sannie!"

"He'll be okay, Darling," Wooyoungs chaste kiss to your head does nothing to calm your raging nerves as San bends down and slides into the ring. You pull away in a hurry and hop up on the ledge, grabbing his top over the ropes.

"Forgot something?" You lean your torso over and immediately take San into a heated kiss, his calloused hands cupping your face firmly and pulling you close. People all around whistle and call loudly, a blush creeping up Wooyoung neck as he watches your lips meld together.

It been almost a year on the run. Almost five months since any of the three of you have touched one another in an intimate, primal way.

He doesn't know how much longer he can take it. When you crawled into his lap earlier he nearly took you right there.

You always do something after a needy kiss that makes every single one of them feral.

You lick up Sans lips to his cheekbone and moan.

People start nearly howling, and his opponent looks antsy.

"Fuck him up, Baby," you cup his chin in your hand as you block out the world around you for a moment and take one last good look at him before you know you'll go away during his fights. You can't bring yourself to watch no matter how long he's been fighting. But that doesn't mean you won't hype him up while you can.

You slap his shoulder softly, making sure to make it look harder than it was in reality before giving his fist a gentle kiss.

"Fuck him up," you repeated before hopping down.

The van door opening makes your head snap, setting away the headphones that play Yeosangs violin melody.

"Hey, how'd ev-"

San jumps on you before you can finish greeting them properly, kissing you deeply and feeling you up like it's the first time he's ever touched you. The clotted blood on his lip doesn't discourage either of you, the pain only stirs him on as Wooyoung climbs in and slams the doors shut behind him.

The dull thud of the duffel bag he drops makes you look over, San letting you breath and nipping at your neck and jaw instead. "Holy shit, Baby, you won?!"

"Fuck yeah, I did, Beautiful," he moans breathlessly, holding himself up above you to speak with a sultry purr, "let me spoil you." He looks over to Wooyoung lustfully. "Both. Let me spoil you both."

Wooyoung smiles at him. Genuinely. For the first time in weeks.

If there's one thing that makes him weak it's being spoiled by his lovers. So when San lifts you up and settles you in his lap and climbs into the drivers seat, he doesn't complain: he simply dives into your lips like a man starved.

And he is, lips suctioned onto yours so deeply and passionately that neither of you notice as the van lurches to life and begins speeding away. You fall to the floor ontop of him and hold him tightly. Like he's an illusion that will disappear like smoke if you let go.

He body feels so right on yours. Clinged together on the shag floor. Melting together. The outside world and all of its problems fading away as his hands wander your body.

How you've managed to keep your hands off one another for this long is a world's greatest mystery.

"Fuck," he moans as you lap at his lips, his hands sliding up the edge of your dress and cupping the round of your ass. "Fuck, Princess, please," he whines.

You can hear the smirk in the way San chuckles from the front seat, but it doesn't stop him from speeding up. He loves how whiney Wooyoung gets just as much as you do.

You clumsily undo his bottoms and pull them down just enough to press your heat to his growing bulge. The thin layers of cloth separating you doesn't stop the feral groan that he lets out, holding your hips with a bruising force as he grinds up into you. If anything, the soft fabric pressing into your clit with each of his uncoordinated thrusts makes it feel more euphoric.

"Oh, God~"

The soft moans you let out have Wooyoung rock hard and San palming himself. "Ffffuck, Baby," you groan, hugging his neck tightly as his hips buck below you.

Everyone got the 'Babyyy' treatment when they were good or needed a pick me up. The way it rolled off of your tongue was like a drug to them. Even more so when it's so deep and passionate. Even more so when their cock is pressing against you.

Sans eager left turn has the both of you rolling on the floor, laughing as he apologizes loudly from the driver seat. "Sorry, continue!"

"You heard the man," you laugh from below Wooyoung, "continue."

And he does, burying his face in your neck and biting and licking and sucking as he rubs his bulge against you like it's the last human touch he'll ever experience. "M'cum," your moan has him rolling into you with a new purpose in life, nearly growling as he holds himself back from painting his underwear white, "shit, Youngie!" You wrap your legs around his waist tightly as you release, shivering and shaking with your jaw slack.

He isn't far behind by even a second, his gut clenching as he turns his bottoms sticky with his own pleasure, panting into your ear as he continues to roll into you, drawing out your euphoria and making you mewl out, clawing at his scalp.

In your bliss, you fail to notice that Sans parked outside of a double story motel and ran out with a wad of cash, clearly in a hurry.

Yours hands are wrapped in each others hair, breathing deeply with your foreheads pressed together, almost as it trying to meld your souls together with passion.

The doors behind the both of you open and flood you in the neon light of the motel signs, and you peek around Wooyoungs frame as he falls over you protectively from what he thinks is prying eyes. "Sannie~" you call, making Wooyoung relax ontop of you.

"You alive, Foxy?" San teases as he climbs in and crawls to you both.

"Mhm," he moans into your jaw, "very alive." He gasps as San pulls him away from you by his neck, taking him in a feverish kiss as you watch on in awe. You can tell San his slipping his tongue into Wooyoungs mouth by the way he holds his jaw open, the way Wooyoung grinds his bulge back into you.

"Youngie, Baby," you whine as he rolls his self into your swollen clit, but it only makes him go faster, his hands finding purchase on Sans waist. "Ah s-" You writhe below him, stopped when one of Sans hands comes and holds you in place by pressing on your stomach: all the while he never opens his eyes or pulls away from your boyfriend. "Fuck, please don't tease!"

He chuckles into his lips, gently stroking his neck. "C'mon, I got us a room for a few days."

Wooyoung begrudgingly slides out of the van, gathering your few bags and bouncing in anticipation as he fixes his pants to the best of his ability. San scoops you up to his chest and you cling to him like a koala bear, kissing all over his face as he carries you up the stairs and down the balcony hall.

Wooyoung drops the bags at the entrance of the room and immediately goes to investigate the single bedded room and bathroom before urging San in, latching the door shut behind him.

You're dropped to the bed and bounce with a soft laugh, opening your legs wide to fit Sans large frame as he slots himself between them. Wooyoung slides next to you and is immediately latched onto your neck as he unbuttons your dress.

"Ah fuck," you mewl out, cradling his head close as your head spins, San slipping off your panties and shimmying down. He holds your thighs apart as he licks a slow, deep stripe up your soaking heat, reveling in the way you moan for him. He wastes no time diving in and eating you out like it's his last meal. His tongue flicking and swiping against every inch it can reach. His nose pressed against your clit as his head bobs.

You're lost in the pleasure between your legs so much so that you don't notice that you and Wooyoung are both naked until he climbs onto your stomach, his hot member gliding between your breasts. Despite how long it's been, your body has its muscle memory from how often you two would do this.

You cup your breasts and push them together, encasing his length in the soft flesh as he grips the headboard roughly, the tip of his cock leaking on the base of your collar bones.

It's hard to appreciate just how beautiful he is while San is ravaging your cunt with his tongue, but you manage. Looking up with blown irises, he's so pretty. His long hair softly framing his face, bouncing with each of his rough, slow thrusts against your supple skin. His swollen lips parted with moans. Toned abs expanding and constricting as he heaves.

"Foxy," you whisper out, catching his eyes with a deep blush on both of your cheeks, "so pretty, Baby."

He curses loudly and reaches one hand down, cradling your face so gently in comparison to how he fucks your tits. "My woman."

The words make your eyes roll back, a wave of your arousal coating Sans tongue as you cum, gripping your breasts tightly and whimpering out as the sensations continue well past your peak.

Wooyoung wills himself to hold back from cumming until he's told, and San holds himself back as he laps up your juices-grinding his hardness onto the bed slowly. Both of your moans are a magic melody to him, and he can't help but crave more. He pulls away and joins Wooyoung over top of you, wrapping his arms around the younger man and spooking him. He slides his hands up his naked torso teasingly slow, grinding on his backside.

"Shit, Babe," he groans, tossing his head back on his shoulder and simultaneously trying to bury his cock in your warm skin and grind back on San's bulge. "Fuck, I ne-"

"Cum, Youngie." The command from the both of you at the same time has him painting your collarbones and neck in a millisecond flat, jaw slack as San continues to stroke him even as his hips stop.

"Fuck, fuck, please, oh my God," he stirs back to life from his void of pleasure as you bend your neck and lick his sensitive tip. He tries to back away only to bump right into Sans girth on his bare backside. "Oh God~"

"Need a breather, Sexy?" San coos as he slowly moves Wooyoung off of you, already knowing that he can't cum back to back. He needs at least five minutes at that's all San needs to get you ready for what's about to come.

Wooyoung comes crawling back into you, lapping up his own seed with a quiet moan as San slides down your body and hooks your legs over his hips. "Ready, Darling?"

"Yes, holy fuck am I ready, please give it to me," you babble on, only silenced as he inches into your sopping core. He's by far the girthiest man you've even been with. And the stretch always feels so delicious.

Wooyoung takes advantage as your jaw falls open, leaning over you to drip all of his release into your mouth. The moans and whimpers of pleasure are unstoppable as you swallow all of it down eagerly, hands wrapped up in his hair and pulling him impossibly close. His body follows his head, almost snuggling you as he presses his body flush to your side, one leg hooked over your hips as he grinds his hardening member into your hip.

It's all so warm and welcoming, a familiar and comfortable feeling washing over you along with the overstimulation of your third orgasm building up as San thrusts into you with a steady slow pace. "Fuck," you moan into Wooyoung, "so big," you whimper as your cunt uncontrollably clenches around him. He swallows up all of your noises as he moves his lips against yours zealously, and sneaky hand rubbing the column of your breasts and up to your neck, simply resting: bouncing with each of Sans increasingly rough thrusts that bounce your body.

"Take me so well," Sans praise has you leaking onto the blanket, panting like crazy and slapping at Wooyoungs shoulders as he bites at your lips hungrily, "pretty Angel, made just for us, hm?"

"Mmhmph-" Your affirmative moan turns into a yelp as Wooyoung tightens his hand over your neck.

Damn them. When they decided to be on the same team they were almost scary at how well the schemed without even speaking a single word. San held your hips in place and drilled into you. Wooyoung assaulting your ear with kisses and bites, squeezing your neck in time with Sans hips.

"Pretty Angel looks like she wants your cum," Wooyoung teases as you swirl your hips in Sans hold, holding you down securely with his hand pressing your neck into the mattress as he looks down at where you're connected.

"Mmh, she does," San groans loudly, hips snapping into you needily, "looks like a bitch in heat." His words make both of you moan out, your eyes rolling into your skull for a moment before he buries himself to the hilt and stops.

"No, no, no, please! I wasn't going to cum, pleaseee, Sannie Baby~!" If there's one thing that gets San off, it's when his lover begs him for permission. When their with someone else- cum as much as you like. But with him? Grovel at his feet and beg him for a release only he can give you. "Fuuuck, shit, please, I need you, fuck me!"

Wooyoung watches you with gazed over eyes, holding you still as you attempt to writhe and get more stimulation. "She wants it's so bad, Babe~" He smirks as San, a look that makes his cock twitch inside of you, You muster up your best begging pout and let go of him, reaching for San's hands that are gripping your hips with a bruising force as he holds himself back until he's satisfied with your begging.

"I want you to make me cum, please, Django?"

All of the breath is fucked out of your lungs as he pounds into you. Fast and hard and nearly animalistic in the way he buries himself in your sopping heat with a string of curses, his fingers interlacing with yours in a soft intimacy that makes your head fuzzy. You can barely moan, how good it is. But he knows. Wooyoung knows.

As you finally come to your senses and scream out with your release, the whole district must know how well Django is fucking you.

He stops himself with a deep groan as your walls flutter and clench around him, squeezing your hands to ground your soul to your body as Wooyoung dips his head and laps at your hardened nipples. You squeeze his hands tightly, arched off of the bed in pure ecstasy as he fills you with his warm cum.

San slips his arms under your arched back and holds you close to his chest as he flips the two of you, a squeal of pleasure leaving you as he hits an all new angle. He holds you securely as he looks at Wooyoung, almost silently communicating.

He slips behind you, the feeling of his leaking tip prodding at your stretched hole has you gripping Sans shoulders tightly, rolling your hips back into him. "Oh, fuck, yes yes yes yes y-" Sans lips catch yours and silence you as he ravenously slips his tongue into your mouth and licks at your tongue, feeding on all of your moans as Wooyoung slides in with him.

"So good, my woman," his mind is gone, unaware of how your walls grow slicker with his praise as he slowly sheaths himself into you fully.

He nowhere near as thick as San, but dear lord that man has length to make up for it. The both of them together is making your stomach feel hot, the hair on the back of your neck standing up.

San pulls away panting, his lips swollen and wet with your saliva. "Beautiful Angel," you official feel lightheaded as he cradles your face oh so gently as he moves his hips. Wooyoung follows suit, holding your back and fucking into you ruthlessly, rubbing against Sans girth inside of you like it's his favorite thing to do in the universe and it's about to be ripped away.

All you can do is moan and gasp with them, a melody that your neighbors must be cursing as the headboard bangs into the thin walls.

Your chest is pressed into Sans roughly, faces barely an inch away as you all move together. His hands cupping your cheeks and keeping you upright as your body threatens to give out. "Sannie, please, n'cum," he can just make out your slurs over the panting and slapping of skin in the humid room, the smell of sex already soaking into the air.

His brain is nearly gone as he feels Wooyoungs length twitch against him along with your cunt squeezing mercilessly, only nodding at the both of you for permission as he himself lets his soul float away in a wave of pleasure, squeezing you to himself possessively as he cums inside of you. Wooyoung isn't a moment behind, the second he feels Sans warmth flood you, his is joining. And the feeling of both of them soaking your womb makes you lose yourself, dunked in pleasure.

Wooyoung falls ontop of you, sandwiching you between their body warmth. San reaches around and hugs his arms around both of you, heavy breaths lulling you to sleep.

"Holy shit." Is all that can be said.

The next morning you decide to take advantage of the running water that San must have paid extra for, washing away the grime that stuck to you despite how many bird baths Wooyoung have you on the side of the road.

San, despite you and Wooyoungs best begging, went off on his own to meet with Hongjoong after he got a call on the prepaid flip phone in the middle of the night.

Wooyoung noticed you eyeing the bag of dirty laundry when you woke up and immediately offered to go wash them and grab some food for the both of you.

You're so wrapped up in the welcoming feeling of the warm water pelting your body that you fail to notice the door opening, letting the steam rise to the ceiling of the motel room. You sung one of Jongho's songs sung softly, the sound echoing on the fiberglass and acrylic shower wall.

"Darling?"

You grab the knife you left on the edge and swipe the shower curtain back. "Jesus!" Both of you yell. Wooyoungs hands fly up in a defense position as you aim the knife at him for a moment.

You flip it in your hand and hand it over to him by the handle, visibly relaxing as you see it's only your sneaky boyfriend. "Perv~" You tease before sliding the curtain shut dramatically. You can hear him shuffling around, and the sound of his zipper confirms your suspicions.

He steps over the tub edge and joins you, hugging you close from behind and kissing your neck gently. "Did you-"

"Mhm, foods on the bed, Princess." You laugh softly before turning in his arms and hugging his neck loosely.

"You're the best, you know?"

"I sure do~"

He reaches over you and grabs the travel size bottle of shampoo, cursing them silently because he will most definitely have to go get some more from the main desk before your stay is over. He lathers it up in his hands a bit before massaging your hair tenderly. "You miss them, don't you?"

His question catches you off guard for a moment, wondering just what he means until you realize that he must have heard you singing the song Jongho wrote all those years ago on The Illusion.

Those times were so much simpler. A group of pirates and the open sea. Beautiful blue water and all the time together that you could ever ask for.

"Don't you?" The way your eyes glaze over is enough to tell him. You miss them just as much as he does. You wish this would end just as much as he does.

"It hurts like hell."

"I know, Baby."

"I want to kill them."

Hala-Teez, the Strickland officials? All of them. "Me too, Baby."

He leans your head back carefully and rinses away the coconut scented soap from your hair gently. "I love you." You speak. Just above a whisper. But he catches it even over the raining water.

"I love you, Darling. This will all be over soon." He doesn't promise because he knows he can't. He doesn't know how long this situation will last. You could be on the run from Strickland and looking over your shoulders for Hala-Teez until your last breath.

"Joong will figure something out." You don't promise. Because Hongjoong hasn't. He can't. He won't promise something that he doesn't know he cant follow through with. He could be trying to come up with a plan for decades.

You stand in silence for a moment as you wash his hair gently before he speaks again, "don't cry, Love."

"What?"

When you look up, he's blurry. When did you start crying? How did this happen?

He closes his eyes and hugs you close with his head under the stream of steaming water.

After a small cry-session in the shower together, you and Wooyoung curled up in the bed and ate your takeout, watching one of the decade old dvd's on the laptop that Yeosang managed to get to you guys a few weeks ago.

The ban from being together for safety didn't stop small run ins with a familiar looking delivery man. Be it disguised as a food delivery man, a mailman, an exterminator- Yeosang always found a way to travel around the city and deliver small gifts from one member to another along with messages from Hongjoong when the phones were down.

A wave of laughter is cut off by a knock on the door. His hand immediately grabs a small hand gun on the nightstand as he stands, your own going to your knife that's sandwiched between the mattress and bed box as you slam the laptop closed.

"Delivery!" The voice makes you relax.

"Fucker," you huff as you jump over the bed and beat Wooyoung to the door and smile at the helmeted man. You can't see him, but you know who it is. "Goody~" You peek out into the halls and spot a few suspicious looking people, so you pretend to slip him some money before taking the box and take one last look as he walks away.

"Open it," he urges impatiently, nearly knocking you over to get to the pizza box as you set it on the small table.

Ontop of your favorite pizza. A small piece of paper. Sans handwriting.

let's bounce

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez wooyoung #ateez san #jung wooyoung #choi san #wooyoung smut #choi san smut #wooyoung x reader #choi san x reader #smut fic #woosan #woosan x reader #smau #ateez smau

4K notes · View notes

deception-united · 7 months ago

Text

Writing Software I Use & Recommend

Brainstorming:

Campfire: Great for organising your thoughts and making detailed character profiles, customised maps, worldbuilding, plot organisation—amongst other features. You can write your manuscript here and post it; and they have many helpful writing tips on their blog. Here's a general overview (customisable):

Notion: Although not conventionally a writing software, I find it immensely helpful for getting my thoughts sorted out. It's organised and easy to navigate, and the interface is manageable and uncluttered. (Keep in mind it's hard to cowrite on Notion—if you're planning to, I suggest making a separate Gmail account and both logging in with that.)

Microsoft Word, with spellcheck off, in Comic Sans (I saw the font thing somewhere and hate that it works). This is what I use when writing excerpts or spontaneous ideas, and it's actually quite effective, though I couldn't tell you why.

Writing/Editing:

Reedsy: The manuscript editor is organised and lets you set writing goals, split chapters, and jot down notes for later. I highly recommend it for authors looking to self-publish—once you're done, you can format and export your book as an eBook or PDF; and you can connect with various editors and find the one that's right for your novel.

Scrivener: Although, unlike the others I've mentioned so far, this software isn't free, the formatting is great for making an outline, collecting any research and notes, and writing your manuscript.

Feel free to add on any more you know of! Hope this was helpful ❤

Previous | Next

#writeblr #writing #writing tips #writing advice #writing help #writing resources #creative writing #writing software #writer stuff #writer help #writing inspiration #deception-united

895 notes · View notes

sugarnspice630 · 6 days ago

Note

Hii! I checked your pinned post but I couldn't find anything saying if you were taking requests at the time (or maybe I'm just blind, could be too), so feel free to ignore this if your requests are closed!!!

It's just that me and my friend had a silly conversation about Ateez sizes the other day, and now a new idea recently popped up in my head. So I was wondering:

Which members do you think are growers(size drastically changes when hard) VS showers(size doesn't change a lot)?

Grower VS Shower - Ateez Edition

A/N: I'm salivating at the thought of this and I have no idea why it's hitting me so hard. I didn't intend on making it an even split between all 8, but as I thought about who fit which category more, it just ended up that way. Please be sure to drop a like, reblog if you enjoyed it, and comment your favorite part! Happy reading!

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆───

Growers

Jongho - I think Jongho has a lot of girth already, but when he gets hard, it grows to be just the right size to hit all the right places.

Mingi - listen...I know this man is already big to begin with...but for some reason I can just see him getting hard and his size increases even more than it already is.

Yeosang - small and petite when normal, but when he's in the mood, it grows in size and width.

Seonghwa - like Yeosang, it's compact and easy to manage when not hormy but when he is it grows in size, not so much in girth.

Showers

Yunho - he's just big and he knows it. He's always ready to whip it out and show it to you whenever you need it.

Hongjoong - my sweet, lovely boy. I know his dick is already perfect. It doesn't take much for him to get in the mood so it's super convenient and always handy.

Wooyoung - may not have a lot of length, but I know his girth is perfect enough already to where you could bounce on it flaccid and it would still feel good.

San - similarly to Yunho, he's always ready to get it out for when you need him. The length of his dick before for hitting your sweet spot right when he bottoms out.

Tags: @pre1ttyies @isiloiale @moongoddess1982 @xuchiya @myloveforyunho @ywtfvs @meowmeeps @tinyelfperson @httpseungmxn @acupoftaewithsomesuga @tiredlittlevirgo @no1likevie @arki-sha @yeosangsbbg @sanipan @10nantscompanion @sugawara-levi @skzooluvr @hongjng8

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez x reader #kpop writers #ateez imagines #sugarnspice630ask #kpop #ateez fic #hongjoong smut #seonghwa smut #yunho smut #yeosang smut #san smut #mingi smut #wooyoung smut #jongho smut

339 notes · View notes

seiwas · 4 months ago

Text

next time, if it rains | iwaizumi hajime

who would have thought iwaizumi was the type to wait under the rain?

wc: 784

summary: iwaizumi waits for you on a rainy afternoon.

contains: f!reader, canon-adjacent, set in high school (around 1st year), (eventual) friends to lovers, reader is nicknamed 'tori-chan' by oikawa (there will be backstory), you and iwaizumi are just starting to get close.

part of ‘there’s this sound (in my chest), and it only beats when you’re around’ this is the first fic in the series.

a/n: edited and reuploaded.

You find Iwaizumi under a clear umbrella in the torrential downpour of a Wednesday afternoon.

It’s not a surprise to find him prepped to go home, just fifteen minutes past his dismissal from volleyball practice; but the gym is on the other side of school, and he’s standing here now, outside of your club’s building, seemingly waiting as he remains firmly planted on his spot, unmoving.

You’re confused.

“Iwaizumi-san?”

Looking up from his phone, he readjusts the strap of his gym bag. There’s a momentary pause as he squints, the rain making it impossibly difficult to recognize you at first glance.

Then, recognition flashes across his face before he raises his hand, giving a small wave, “Hey!”

You place your bag on the floor, freeing your hands to unclasp the lock on your umbrella before pushing it open. It’s a bit of struggle as you attempt to carry all your things, your umbrella, bag, and a few books barely being balanced with just your two hands.

“Do you need help?” Iwaizumi calls out, voice muffled by the heavy rain.

“It’s—“

The question is rhetorical, you realize, because before you can even get a word in, he’s already made his way to you, approaching the steps much quicker than you can seem to gather yourself.

It honestly feels like deja vu; does Iwaizumi just always know when you need help?

Recounting the memory horrifies you to this day—the first time you approached Iwaizumi, he had to cut your rambling short just to get to the main point:

“Do you need help with the topics for our science exam?”

You shake your head, shooing the thought away. There’s no use dwelling on embarrassments of the past when it’s only brought you the good things you have today—like your little Wednesday study group, composed of you, Oikawa, and Iwaizumi.

“Thanks,” you bow your head slightly as he reaches for your books. Your smile turns sheepish when you follow it up with an apology.

The steps are slippery on your way down, but your shoes manage.

Just a few steps ahead of you, Iwaizumi stays close by, looking back a few times in case you might slip.

They’re discreet looks, a real attempt of his to be subtle; but you can tell, and the gesture only makes you smile.

“Why’d you wait all the way here?” you ask, once you reach the bottom of the stairs.

“Oikawa had to fetch Takeru. He messaged our group chat,” Iwaizumi swipes through his phone to show you the message. You fall into pace beside him, reading.

[5:01pm]

Shittykawa: Tori-chan, gotta fetch Takeru cos of the rain! >.< Sorry! Iwa-chan will still walk with u tho, I’ll see u guys at home~~

“It didn’t show that you read it, so I wasn’t sure if you saw it,” he continues, pocketing his phone as you exit the gates.

The rain gets stronger.

You hum in agreement, mumbling, “You didn’t have to wait out here though… I would have gone to the gym eventually…” a pout forms on your face, growing deeper the guiltier you feel.

The fact that Iwaizumi waited for you outside, in the pouring rain (and for a good while, it looks) makes you feel bad. You aren’t so close that things like this are unspoken in your friendship.

“Sorry…” you murmur. You don’t think Iwaizumi hears you from how loudly the raindrops are beating against your umbrella, but he does.

“H-hey, it’s fine! I don’t mind.”

You slow down your walk.

“‘Sides,” Iwaizumi sighs, falling into step with you, “I wasn’t sure if you had an umbrella, so…” he trails off, too embarrassed to continue.

Your brain buzzes at the implication, but you shake it off quickly.

Don’t assume.

(The wet patches on his uniform do nothing to cool down how warm he feels.)

“Oh,” you chuckle, focusing instead on how touched you are by his thoughtfulness. It’s endearing how he’s even embarrassed about it.

“Good thing I have one then,” you play along, speaking as casually as you can, “I don’t think we’d fit under yours.”

Iwaizumi laughs, a boyish grin settling in to replace how flustered he’d looked.

“I guess I’ll just have to bring a bigger one next time.”

You glance at him from the side, observing; you don’t think he even realizes what it implies—that he wants to share an umbrella with you, next time.

So you brush it off, chalking it up to Iwaizumi just being Iwaizumi, kind and reliable—thoughtful.

The rain doesn’t let up the entire walk to Oikawa’s place, but you’re thankful for it. At least, the raindrops reverberate loud enough against your umbrella to drown out the pitter patter of your heartbeat.

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #hajime x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq!! x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi #hajime #haikyuu!!#hq!!#shotorus.writes #tts(imc)

356 notes · View notes

sleepsacked · 4 months ago

Text

for eternity, c.s.

+ college student!choi san x college student!afab!reader

+ part: 3/3 (this is all the previous parts put into one revised and extended part, so this CAN be read as a standalone!)

+ word count: 19.9k (english isn’t my only language so this is 90% edited to the best of my ability, i am so sorry for grammatical errors x)

+ tags: 18+, minors/ageless blogs dni! tags are below the cut, it’s a lot lol

+ summary: classic story of experienced reader corrupting innocent boyfriend who managed to end up together after being partnered up for a class project and explore their filthy fantasies together.

+ a/n: guys... i know. it's been two years since i uploaded on this story and trust me when i say there has not been a moment where i did not think about sitting down and uploading on here especially because i still get notifications of people re-blogging and liking the previous parts. with that being said, i revised the previous parts and fixed up my grammar and added bits of more plot to each along with adding what would have been stand-alone third part had i not decided to add all three/three and a half? (1, 2, 2.5, 3) parts together.

please show this some love if you can, and feel free to leave me any suggestions on who you wanna see me write for next... thank you all again for your extreme patience x

+ tags: semi-story building/plot, light humor, college au, virgin!san, experienced!reader, (tried to make it as gender neutral as possible), rest of atz making occasional appearance but mostly reader x san, clumsy/nerd!san, dry humping, grinding, panty stuffing? cum stuffing? hand.. grinding?, filthy makeouts, usage of pet names (babe/baby/love/sweet boy/pretty girl) a lot, teasing, sniffing..(?), vibrating dildo, body worship, hair pulling, cum play, size kink?kinda?, slight dom!reader x sub!san dynamic, slight serivce top san too lol, maybe dom san for a split second, nipple play, bed??humping??, cunnilingus, masturbation (m), panty usage(m) it'll make sense when you read lol, panty kink, begging, squirting, creampies yay, perv!san, slight corruption kink, imagination/dirty fantasy/sexuality exploration??, dirty talk, tongue play(?), whiny san yay, slight body image insecurity, slight relationship insecurity on san's part, reader is canonically on birth control ok, kinda fluffy, kinda realistic, reader and san have good communication okay, if i forgot anything lmk x

You and San had met in your graphics design class at the beginning of your third year of university, which was a class that had nothing to do with your major and was just some random filler class that fit into your schedule for some elective credits.

Although he had sat on the other side of the room, he had surely made a solid impression on you. When you’d see him stroll into class, you never failed to notice how his broad shoulders expanded as he fixed his bag from falling down his arm, or how his slim waist was accentuated by whatever pair of sweats he decided to wear that day. You also never failed to notice his slight resemblance between a fox and a cat, he was definitely mesmerizing to say the least.

It wasn’t until your professor assigned a partner project; and as if fate couldn’t have been anymore real- the two of you were paired together.

You had noticed that he hadn’t spoken much in class throughout the semester, listening intently to the professor’s lectures (or just really good at pretending), and occasionally getting up to use the bathroom. Because of these facts alone, you concluded that he was more on the reserved side of society and opted out for keeping to himself; finding a quiet peace in marching to the beat of his own drum… far from most of the guys you typically sought after.

You were familiar with guys like those who were in alpha tau zeta or beta sigma tau; the ones who were easy to bring to bed but awful to bring home to your parents.

“Hey, I’m Y/N. Looks like we’re partnered together,” you laughed lightly.

“San,” he lowered his head in a quick nod, gathering his backpack to place on the floor and scooted his chair to the side to welcome you. As you sat down, you stole a quick glance in his direction before situating yourself to move your focus to the professor and the instructions for the project that was about to take course over the next couple of weeks.

“Alright, well if there’s no more questions, you guys are free to go for the day. And again, please don’t wait ‘til the last minute to begin your projects. Make sure you and your partner are on the same page. Have a good weekend everyone,” your professor waved. As the class began to file out, you looked back at San, noticing how slow he was at making his way out.

“Are-”

“I-”

“You go ahead first,” you laughed lightly, taking note of San’s avoidance of eye contact and the light blush that began to creep up on his neck. He clutched his backpack tighter before letting out a sigh and finally meeting your eyes.

“I was just going to ask when you wanted to begin working on our project… I’m free on the weekends and I don’t have any classes on Fridays either,” his voice trailed off, his eyes averting to the wall behind you and then back to you again.

Oh, he is going to be the death of you.

You hummed. “Yeah, weekends work for me. No classes on Friday either so we can start tomorrow? You live on campus?”

“Yeah, I live in the Arts Hall,” San nodded.

“Really?” Your eyebrows raised, “I do too. Here. Lemme get your number and I’ll text you later and we can figure out a time to meet up! I have a meeting to go to that starts in 10 and it’s on the other side of campus,” you began to pull out your phone, opening up the keypad and handing it to San.

“Oh? Oh, yeah, okay, just text me whenever. I didn’t mean to hold you up,” he fumbled his words as his hand grazed yours after taking your phone from you. He typed his number and handed your phone back to you, you smiled as you took a quick glance at his contact name.

“san :3”

Cute, you thought to yourself as you gathered your belongings and got up from your seat.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m excited to start working on our project. See you around, San,” you looked at him one last time as you waved goodbye, walking out the door to head to your meeting.

You hadn’t texted San yet, but that didn’t mean you hadn’t been thinking about him the whole day. You were curious to know more about him, his shyness, how you never noticed that he lived in the same dorm hall as you. You figured it really wouldn’t be too difficult to talk to San and your curiosity was eating at you more than you liked to admit (it was definitely the raging hunger).

It was already past dinner, your meeting lasting longer then you had expected. You debated taking an Uber to that one pizza restaurant you’d been meaning to try out or to just head back to your dorm and make a bowl of ramen.

With San still on your mind as you decided on dinner plans, you realized you weren’t someone who was keen on taking the lead or being a more assertive person in a situation like this, so when you found yourself open San’s contact profile in your phone and hitting the call button, you were quite surprised.

As you were about to hang up after the first few rings you heard a faint greeting on the other end of the line.

“Hello? Who is this?”

“Hi, I’m so sorry to be calling you right now… it’s Y/N-”

“Y/N? Oh, hi… hi… are you alright?”

Your chest squeezed at his sudden concern.

“Yes! Yes, I’m okay. Seriously, I’m sorry for calling so suddenly. I just got out of my meeting-”

“This late?”

“I know right… I just got out and I was about to head to this new pizza restaurant downtown and was wondering if you wanted to come with me. I know it’s a bit… weird considering we haven’t spoken to each other before today. But I figured we could talk about our project and set up a schedule to work on it or something? If you’re not busy right now, of course.”

You rambled, suddenly regretting even calling San in the first place and realizing that it was a bit awkward to invite San out to eat on a whim like this considering the circumstances.

There was a long pause.

“Actually, it’s okay if you can’t! I know it’s super late, and I called outta nowhere-”

“I’m down. Where are you at right now?”

“Passing the library actually...”

“That’s good, I’m on the 4th floor of the tech center, I’ll meet you at those benches in front of the library, yeah?”

“Uh… yeah, yeah, I’ll wait right here.”

San hummed, before hanging up and leaving you with your own thoughts as you walked back towards the benches and sat down, waiting patiently.

“How’s the practice for the showcase coming along?”

“Could be better, we’re still working on the chorus but can’t seem to mix the vocals right and it’s been pissing us off.”

“I’m sure it’s fine, you guys are perfectionists.”

“Well, of course we are Wooyoung! I’m sure you feel the same when you choreograph, right?”

“Okay, Yunho, that’s not even a good example.”

“What? It totally is! You can’t dance if the music is shit, so we have to make sure our music isn’t shit!”

“Mingi, shouldn’t you be worrying about, I don’t know, other shit?”

San laughed to himself, his fingers grazing across the keyboard as he finished typing up some discussion answers for one of his coding classes, doing his best to tune out most of the chatter that was happening amongst his friends.

His phone buzzed against the tabletop, his screen lighting up with an unknown number. His friends stayed enthralled in their conversation, paying him no mind as he answered his phone hastily.

“Hello? Who is this?”

“Hi, I’m so sorry to be calling you right now… it’s Y/N-”

Wooyoung was the first to notice that San was on the phone, not even because he was necessarily trying to pay attention but he was about to ask if San wanted to join the rest of them heading to the cafeteria to grab a quick bite before it closed for the night.

“Hey guys, shh, shh,” Wooyoung whispered as he smacked Yunho’s arm. Yunho and Mingi’s voices died down as their attention fixed on San.

“That’s good, I’m on the 4th floor of the tech center, I’ll meet you at those benches in front of the library, yeah?” San finished with a hum before hanging up the phone, feeling three sets of eyes on him.

“So who was that?” Wooyoung’s lips fell into a coy smile, a tilt to his voice as he felt himself get giddy.

“Hm?”

“Don’t tell me…” Yunho’s hand slapped Wooyoung’s shoulder before giving it a hard grip, staring at San in disbelief. Mingi was the next to chime in, as if he felt the cue to get in on the joke.

“Finally, my man San, you shooting shots?”

San’s eyes closed, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose before letting out a soft sigh.

“It was one of my classmates, Y/N, she’s my partner for this project in my graphics design class. She called asking to grab dinner and talk about what direction we wanna go, nothing crazy,” San began gathering his belongings and stuffing as much as he could in his bag in one go before getting up and slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“Woah, woah, woah, kinda sounds like she’s interested, no?” Yunho wiggled his brows. San immediately shook his in disagreement, feeling the tips of his ears get hot.

“San, I mean this in like, the most loving way possible, but you almost never know when someone is interested in you and… well,” Wooyoung cleared his throat before continuing, “I think it kinda has to do with the fact that… you know… you’re a little bit of a late bloomer.” Wooyoung cupped his hands around his lips as he whispered the last couple of words in San’s direction.

“Alright!” San’s voice cracked, “On that note, I will see you guys tomorrow!”

“Be safe! Use protection!”

“To manhood!”

“Yeah! What they said!”

San continued to make way out of the building, not looking back at his friends as his face continued to heat up. The comments definitely made him nervous, he didn't think you were interested in him… right? You guys barely had a full conversation and only started talking this afternoon in class despite having been together the last month and a half in the same classroom. Was this how dating was like? Was this how people pursued each other? Was it not like best friends falling in love after years of knowing each other? I mean sure, yeah plenty of couples met in different ways, he was pretty familiar with romcoms and-

No! Focus! This is just about class, the project, getting familiar enough to get a good grade and moving forward to the next semester, no time for dating or romance, and certainly no time for sex.

San wasn’t too sure what happened next but suddenly he was lying on his back at the bottom of the stairwell, his bag barely cushioning his fall and hearing a faint yell of his name outside through the glass doors. Faint pattering against the concrete outside could be heard before the glass door swung open.

“San! Oh my god? Are you okay?” You kneeled next to him, awaiting his response.

All San could manage was a groan before he turned over on his side and slowly got up from the ground, reaching for his bag in the process. This definitely couldn’t be more embarrassing- actually, no, knowing him and his luck, it definitely could be more embarrassing in due time.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You sure? What even happened?”

“Um, actually, I don’t know…” his voice trailed off as he dusted off his clothing.

“What?” You laughed.

“Sorry, I mean, I think I was just lost in my head about something and must’ve missed a step.”

“Ah… lost in your head about anything in particular?” You moved to walk towards the door, reaching for the handle and letting San walk through first, his clumsy state a bit unpredictable for properly meeting up with each other.

“Thanks,” San quietly said as he walked through the glass doors and into the crisp, fall scenery that was draped prettily over the campus grounds. The trees began to lose their leaves and the colors that their foliage left painted on the ground was always the prettiest picture that San never got tired of.

“And no. Just regular thoughts roaming around in there, I guess.” You both continued to stroll down the path that led to the student parking lot, the soft crunch of leaves creating a comforting ambiance.

“Makes sense.” You paused under one of the light posts, the sun setting enough that the lights emitted a soft glow that accentuated all different types of contours on each of your faces.

“I can order the Uber, by the way. I wasn’t sure when you’d head down or what you wanted to do or anything but I can order it, I don’t think it’ll take long to get here,” You began mumbling as you reached for your phone in your sweater.

“Uber? We can just take my truck, no?”

“You have a truck?”

“Nothing fancy, trust me, it's an ‘06 model,” San laughed, wondering why it was so surprising he owned a truck. He motioned for you to follow as he continued the path down to the parking lot, you followed behind.

“But a truck?”

“What? A guy can’t own a truck?”

“No, it’s not that- I just mean, you don’t really seem like the truck kinda guy.”

San shrugged, “Gets me from place to place, plus she’s still kicking.”

San led the way to his truck that was parked conveniently in front of the entrance of the tech center.

“No way this truck has crank up windows,” You said in disbelief as you hopped in. “I haven’t seen these in like years, like years, San.”

He threw his head back as he laughed, giving you a shrug as you guys drove off with mindless chatter being shared amongst the both of you.

And that was how your relationship with San began; working as partners for a project (which you both aced) that soon led to hanging out at every free moment either of you had. Countless spontaneous dates throughout the course of those next few weeks of you inviting him out to eat dinner with you at that pizza joint. It wasn’t very much longer until San had finally asked you to be his romantic partner.

You were made aware of San’s inexperience, both in dating and intimacy, and honestly, it wasn’t something that was entirely concerning to you. You had a feeling that maybe his experience wasn’t… all there, and you were content with moving at a gradual pace, his pace. Quite truthfully, your pride and ego was well-fed knowing that you’d be the only one to share these experiences with your boyfriend for the first time.

Today, however, you had noticed a shift in San’s attitude and he was more clingy than normal; sticking to your side like glue whenever you went anywhere within your student living apartment. It started off with not wanting to let you get out of bed to use the restroom, clinging onto your waist tighter as you tried wiggling your way out of his arms and nuzzling his head in your neck with a low whine. Your head fell back against the mattress, letting out a sigh.

“Baby, what’s wrong, hm,” you stopped to look down at him as best as you could given your current state. You weren’t annoyed, by all means, but something was definitely bothering San and you were maybe just a little hurt that he was acting differently like this as a way to let you know. You wiggled around again, snaking your arm around his back and combing your fingers through the short hairs that were at the nape of his neck.

San nuzzled his head deeper into the crook of your neck, the feeling of his eyelashes fluttering against your sensitive skin giving you goosebumps.

“Nothing’s wrong… just- I don’t know. Just wanna be around you, s’all.” Sans lips grazed ever so lightly as he spoke against your skin.

You hummed in faux agreement, “Okay, whatever you say. Lemme get up and go pee, then I can make us something to eat and we can put on that one show you were telling me about the other day, yeah?”

San squeezed his arms around you tightly one last time, before he rolled over and laid against the bed, a pout forming on his lips.

“Fine, that sound’s good.”

You were bent over, looking in the fridge and wondering what the hell you were going to cook up. The groceries didn’t look promising, probably because there was a lack thereof, and it was enough to have you close the fridge and look for something in the pantry.

Suddenly, muscular arms wrapped around your body, one around your waist and the other around your upper chest. Light kisses were peppered and pressed against your shoulder and the back of your neck.

“Baby, can’t we just order delivery? I miss you and want you back in bed,” San voiced through his tiny ministrations on your neck. You couldn’t help but giggle at your boyfriend’s clinginess, this level of clinginess being a new side of him you had yet to see. However, you still tried your best to keep your composure, but his broad chest felt so warm against your back that you couldn’t help but indulge in his affection.

“You sure you're okay? You’re not running a fever? Or a concussion?” You tried to turn your head to face him, but his kisses were too distracting on your body and San always had a way of making you feel like he was worshiping you. His arms squeezed you tighter, pulling your ass to meet his crotch. He gave a little thrust and you felt his hard-on press into the clothed crevice of your ass. San gave you one last kiss before he rested his chin on your shoulder and looked at you with hooded eyes.

“Yes, love, I’m okay. I just miss you, “ San leaned forward, pressing your noses together before pushing his hips up into you again, his eyes fluttering softly before he looked back at you.

“So this is why you’re being like this, huh?” A small smile formed on your lips, quickly leaning in to peck San before pulling away. “You want me to help you out?” San turned his gaze away from you, the tips of his ears becoming hot and red, which you found more than endearing.

“Whatever you wanna do right now, I’m okay with, San. Just do whatever you think might feel good for you, okay?” You spoke softly, somewhat anticipating if your boyfriend was going to make any type of move. The farthest you had gotten with San was the occasional heavy make-out sessions with occasional groping- but he never reached to touch you where you wanted him most.

San released you from his grip, not speaking as he turned you around and gently grabbed your wrist. You looked at him, waiting to see if he was going to give any response but instead, he dragged you to the bedroom, leading you to stand at the edge of the bed before walking back to the door and quietly shutting it.

He turned back to look at you, his face and ears flushed before slowly walking towards you and standing in front of you sheepishly.

“You said I can do whatever I think feels good…?” San fidgeted with his fingers, pulling the inside of his cheeks between his teeth. You grabbed his hands, gently rubbing your thumb across the top.

“Whatever you want, baby. However you want, too… however you wanna use me, I trust you,” you brought one his hands to your lips, pressing gentle kisses before opening his palm and pressing your cheek against him. You heard him gulp as you briefly glanced down and noticed the tent in his sweatpants begging for some friction, alongside the faintest spot of pre-cum forming.

“May you bend over the bed?” He spoke softly as he looked at you, eyes glossed over with lust.

You smiled and nodded, lifting your head from his palm. Before you began to turn around to bend over the edge of the bed, you stood on your tip-toes, kissing the round little tip of San’s nose before you quietly cooed at him.

“Only because you asked me so kindly,” you placed a light kiss on his lips. You caught the way his nose scrunched as he fought back a smile. He knew you loved how well-mannered he was.

You turned around and bent over the edge of the bed, your clothed-ass on display for San. You weren’t sure what he had in mind as you laid in this position, but before you could ponder too long you felt cool hands push your shirt up a little so your waist was now exposed to the cold air and before San. You could feel your lover’s body heat behind you as he began to position himself closer to you. Soft massages kneaded their way into your hips and you couldn’t help but rest your forehead on your arm as you tried your best to look back and get a good view of San.

From your peripheral, you could see how timid he was. He stared down at your ass, lip between his teeth and stepping just right to get the angle he wanted behind you. The grip of his massages became harder before his hands stilled and you felt him roll his hips into your ass.

The pressure of his heavy, clothed-cock pressing into your ass had your mouth running dry. It had been awhile since you had sex, of course respecting San’s choices into wanting to take it slow (which you also had wanted to as well, thinking that the wait would most definitely be worth it). For some reason though, the idea of not going all the way right now felt far more intimate than the act itself and that familiar feeling of warmth rushing to your core was making your body become hot and bothered quick, insanely quick.

San hadn’t moved, just resting his weight against you, hips pressed firmly into your ass. His breaths were deep and slightly heavy as you did your best at turning your body to get a better view of him; trying to take in the way his cheeks were flushed and how his mouth was red and puffy from how hard he was biting it. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the way his straining cock met the curves of your ass perfectly.

“You’re doing good, baby. Just do whatever you think feels good,” You pushed your hips back against him, hearing him let out a sigh. “You know I'll be good for you, San.”

San let out a loud whine, running his hands up your back and raising your shirt in the process before lightly scratching his nails back down and hooking his fingers into your waistband.

“Y/N, can I- is it- is it okay if I take off your pants?” San rolled his hips against your ass again and you could tell he was trying to have some self-restraint, as if not to come too soon.

“Yes, please, fuck,” you groaned. San slowly rolled your pants down over the curve of your ass, pushing himself off you just enough to get them down your legs and helping you get them completely off before kicking them away from the bed.

“My underwear-“

“I know just- just let me,” San re-positioned himself behind you and when you turned your head to glance behind you, you noticed that San had also taken off his bottoms, only leaving him in his briefs and his sleep shirt which was mostly unbuttoned, leaving the expanse of his chest exposed enough to see the pink flush.

You turned back to rest your forehead against your arm, anticipating the feeling of San's heavy (and now more thinly layered) cock against your ass.

You felt the bed dip on the side of your head, you turned to see San’s hand gripping the duvet as his other hand found contact with your hip again. He rolled his hips into you and as he did so you felt your underwear shift up and put tension on your clit. San soon fell into a steady pace of grinding his hips against your ass, occasionally leaning down to place kisses on your shoulder and suck and nip at the back of your neck.

“Y/N, baby, you feel so good like this,” San nipped at your ear, letting out a soft moan when he looked down at where the swells of your ass slightly jiggled every time he rolled his hips.

“Yeah? Feels good?” You turned your head to look at him as best as you could, almost all his body weight was on you as he began to rut his hips against your ass. You pouted your lips at him, silently pleading for the feeling of his lips on yours. He leaned down and indulged in you, lazily moving his lips against yours. In the midst of kissing, you caught his tongue with your lips and began sucking lightly. You felt San’s hips stutter and he moaned loudly with his tongue still trapped between your lips. San suddenly pulled away, his hair matted against his forehead, shirt ruffled and lips puffy. There were traces of drool going down his chin and the idea of kissing him until he became a wet, whiny mess had your mind reeling.

“Something wrong?” You looked up at San, glancing down at the now more noticeable wet spot on his briefs, a mixture of your desire and his.

“Nothing, it’s just if I come, I wanna look at you. Flip over for me,” San placed his hands on your hips, “please,” shooting you a cheeky smile that had you giggling.

Once you flipped over, San positioned himself to where one of his legs was nestled between your thighs and pressed deliciously against your core. His head found purchase in your neck, attaching his lips and leaving love bites everywhere he could.

“You know, I've been trying not to come fast this whole time,” San breathed into your neck. “I’m just wondering how good it’s gonna be when we actually fuck,” he lifted his head to take a good look at you.

He hadn’t realized how fucked out you actually were and it was a mental image he wanted to keep stored in his head for as long as he could. This time you were the one getting shy, the idea of San fucking you right now, eager and clumsy, was too tempting. Your panties were sticky and truthfully it was starting to get a bit uncomfortable, but San had moved his attention back to your neck, softly rutting against your hip bone which had his thigh rubbing against your clit. You involuntarily rolled your hips against his thigh, letting out a feathery moan.

San’s head snapped up from your neck, looking down at you with furrowed brows as he pressed his thigh harder into your clothed-heat. Your eyes squeezed shut as you let out another moan, head turning to the opposite side from San in embarrassment.

“San-“

“I want you to do what feels good too,” his hand grabbed your chin, gently pulling your face to look back in his direction again. His stare was too much, his eyes averting from yours to your lips and back to yours before he moved one finger to the tip of your mouth.

As if on instinct, you opened and welcomed his index finger, gently sucking and rolling your tongue around the length while doing your best to maintain eye contact.

San's eyes were solely focused on how your lips were so perfectly wrapped around his finger as the rest of his hand maintained a semi-hard grip on either side of your cheeks.

“Fuck, I can’t do this baby, I wanna come on you. Please, can I come on you?” San’s voice quivered as his eyes made their way back up to yours. With your mouth still occupied, you nodded, moaning around his finger as a means of saying yes.

He took his finger from your mouth, gently wiping it on the hem of his shirt before reaching for his shirt collar and swiftly removing it from his body and throwing it at the foot of the bed.

“It was starting to get too hot for that. You feeling okay?” San spoke, throwing a quick glance at you before he shuffled around on the bed and placed his hands on your knees to spread your legs to make room for him.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” You shifted, moving your legs around so he could slot himself between you. It took you a minute to realize that San was more bare than you, something that rarely happened. San wasn’t shy or insecure about his body, at least you didn’t seem to get that impression. You knew he took good care of himself and his physique, working out as often as he could in between study sessions or dance practices. Yet, you had come to the conclusion that maybe he just wasn’t as comfortable being shirtless in a lounge setting than you had initially thought.

“Maybe, but you didn’t answer me. How are you feeling?” San laid more of his body weight on you and instinctively you brought your hands up to feel the soft flesh of his chest.

“Feeling like I'm gonna overheat in this thick ass shirt but I also don’t wanna take it off.”

His gaze softened, placing pecks across your face. He started with your forehead, leading to your left cheek and then your right. As your eyes fluttered shut, he gently placed kisses on top of your eyelids, following down your nose to your chin and then ending at your lips.

“You’re beautiful, baby. And I'll tell you a hundred times a day- no! a hundred times an hour if i have too.”

“Can I wear your shirt?” You smiled sheepishly.

His eyebrow twitched before he began to frantically nod his head, scrambling across the sheets to bring it up to you. You sat up enough to slip your shirt off and quickly replace it with San’s with ease. Thankfully, San wore pajama sets so the shirt was thin enough to not overwhelm you. San reached up to your chest, unbuttoning a few buttons on his sleep shirt that revealed just the right amount of cleavage for him to mess with.

Once settled back on top of you, he shifted his weight so that his cock laid right between your folds. the wet stains on both of your underwear making the fabric feel much thinner.

“Fuck, Y/N,” San placed one last kiss before looking down between where your bodies met, rolling his hips with purpose against your clit. The friction of the wet fabric and the pressure of the tip of his cock rubbing deliciously against your sensitive bud made you feel like you were going insane and soon enough you found yourself rolling your hips with his.

“San, baby, you’re doing so good for me, you know that,” you moaned, wrapping a hand in his hair and gently tugging. He groaned, this time pulling back far enough to slam his hips against yours.

You moaned as your back arched slightly off the bed- you weren’t sure what had come over San, but his energy had changed so much that you had forgotten he was inexperienced.

“I'm so good for you, huh?” San said through clenched teeth, rolling his hips harder and faster. This new found discovery of San enjoying praise did something for you, making your mind reel of all the intimate endeavors that would take place in the near future.

“So good you’re gonna let me come on you? Let me come all over your panties and stuff it back up in that little pussy of yours?” He was looking at you now, bottom lip glossed with saliva from sucking it between his teeth.

“Shit,” you raised your legs higher as you spread them out more, “are you sure you’ve never done this, San? I didn't know you could be so mouthy.”

San hooked one of your legs under his arm as he shifted to get a better angle to rub his cock between you.

“You’re the one and only, baby,” he laughed, “Didn’t know I had it in me either.”

You laughed, before wrapping an arm behind his neck and pulling him down towards you for a kiss. This one was by far the messiest kiss you had ever shared with San. As he rutted against you, his lips moved against yours sloppily. Thin trails of spit formed around your mouths as you sucked and licked against each other's tongues- San pulled away just enough to speak.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” his thrusts against your clit became rougher, the fabric of your underwear rubbing against you hard. You wrapped one leg around his waist, putting pressure on his lower back and pulling him closer to your body.

“I think I’m gonna come, Y/N, oh, oh fuck-“ you looked up at San, fingers still wrapped in his hair. his brows furrowed together, mouth falling into a small, cute ‘o’ shape, feeling his hips began to stutter.

“I know, baby, go ahead,” you moved your hips against his, “you did so good. Go ahead and give it to me.”

That seemed to set San over the edge, a high-pitched whine coming from his lips and you soon felt a warm liquid fall on top of your mound. You looked down to see San still coming, hot-spurts making their way through his briefs, the mental image of him coming inside and milking him dry making your mind reel. You moaned, bringing your hand up to his cheeks and pulling him forward in a lazy kiss.

You felt San’s hand make its way to the top of your waist band as he pulled away from you and looked down.

“I wasn’t joking about stuffing you with this Y/N,” San wiped at some of his come from your underwear with his middle finger before bringing it lower to your clothed-entrance. He prodded at the wet fabric, rubbing his come at where your hole was clenching eagerly to feel some type of release. You felt him push lightly against you, rubbing in circles his come-covered finger before applying more pressure. He quickly swiped up more before going back to your entrance and pushing his fingers inside you as best he could with your underwear still creating a barrier between the two of you. Your head fell back against the sheets and your hips moved lightly against his finger.

“San,” you moaned as a hand reached down to his wrist, holding it steady as your hips moved with more fervor. You felt his hand pull back as he shifted down to be face first with your pussy. Just as you were about to pout at the loss of contact, a harder pressure was applied. You glimpsed down through hooded eyes, taking your lip between your teeth as you saw San looking back up at you to gauge your reaction.

This time his palm was pressed against you, cupping gently and moving up and down slightly as if he were giving you a massage.

“Grind against me, y/n,” San spoke softly, turning his head and pressing soft kisses against the inside of your thigh. He pressed his palm harder against your clothed-heat, turning his attention back to you. Your hips moved on their own accord, the fabric continuing to pull and rub against your clit. Breathy moans filled the room and San used his free hand to rub gently into your thighs and waist, occasionally reaching up to your chest and grabbing roughly through your (his) shirt.

You felt his hand pull away again, only to be quickly met with a light slap, a jolt rushing through your body as you let out a gasp. Your hand reached for the duvet, twisting lightly in your palm as you craved for that feeling again.

“Harder, please, harder,” your eyes squeezed shut as you moved your hips closer to San’s face, your way of asking for some release. The knot in your stomach began to coil tighter, waiting to be pushed over the edge. San dug the heel of his hand against your clit, moving softly as you moved your hips at your own desired and eager pace.

“Oh- oh fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum,” your hand made way to find grip in San’s disheveled hair, grabbing at the base of his locks and tugging with just enough force. In the haze of pleasure, you could make a distinction of moans that weren’t your own and you had just enough time to look down in between your legs to see San with his eyes shut and eyebrows furrowed and he let out a whine. His hand pressed harder against your clit one last time before the tension in your stomach snapped and your hips stuttered against his palm.

San moaned with you, keeping his hand pressed against you as you rode out your orgasm.

“That's it, want you to give it all to me,” he turned his head against your thighs again, placing small kisses and bites along the expanse of the fleshy skin. The lingering feelings of your orgasm soon finished and you’d fallen into a comfortable daze, loosening your grip in San’s hair and softly running your fingers through it instead. Your eyes began to flutter, forgetting about the stickiness in your panties. You snapped to your senses when you felt San move forward, still between your thighs and closer to your clothed crotch.

He inhaled where you felt the wetness of both yours and his release was mixed together, letting out a low moan before he moved back up the bed so he was directly above you.

“You are such a perv for doing that, by the way,” you laughed as you ran your hands across his chest, taking note of the flush that was creeping up his neck.

“Hey,” he whined, leaning down to nuzzle into your neck. “You said I could do whatever I thought felt right,” you could hear and feel the pout in his voice.

“I didn't say I minded you being a little perv-y, if I wasn’t so sleepy right now I might try getting off again,” your arms wrapped around his back, nails lightly scratching up and down as you felt more of his body weigh against you.

“Is that so?” San spoke softly as his lips sucked love bites into your neck.

“It is,” you moved your head to the side, allowing more room for him to kiss and suck at your neck. “You know you sound cute when you’re all whiny, San.”

“Babe,” his voice dragged out as he rolled off you, embarrassed. Your laugh rang throughout the room as you turned to your side and reached out for San before he could make it too far out of reach.

“You know I'm teasing you, baby. Now can we clean up real quick before I pass out over here?” you placed a quick kiss on San’s lips before you began to get up from the bed, the stickiness between your legs becoming too unbearable.

San followed behind you quickly, grabbing your waist and pulling you in his arms.

“Thank you,” he whispered against your hair as he hugged you a little more tightly. You smiled against his chest as you wrapped your arms around his waist, this man was definitely going to be the death of you.

It hadn’t been very long since your previous intimate interaction with San, and you had noticed that he was much more keen on expanding and expressing his sexual interests with you. He was more clingy, and confident, and was constantly finding ways to express his sweet affections towards you, especially in the confines of your shared apartment.

He asked questions constantly about your own sexual interests, which you found both cute and endearing as most times (all the time) he’d stutter and get all flustered at the thought of even saying such crude things aloud so casually.

So today, when he asked you about your own self-pleasure experiences, you weren’t entirely caught off guard.

You both laid in the living room, sprawled on the couch, your head in his lap as his fingers softly scratched against your scalp. He was focused on something on his phone as you felt your eyes get heavier with the comfort of having your hair played with, the noise from the television being the right amount of white noise to allow you to doze off peacefully. San set his phone down on the arm rest, leaning forward slightly to get a glimpse of you.

“Babe, you still up?” San spoke softly, removing his hand from your head and bringing it to caress your cheek. You hummed, snuggling your head into his lap to get more comfortable.

“Hm… yeah, I’m up,” you muttered, your eyes finally blinking slowly before you shut them completely. You felt him lean back against the couch, hand still resting on your cheek, his thumb slowly running back and forth.

“Well if you’re up, like up up- awake up, then I have a question. Hm… something I’m curious about.” San spoke slowly, as if he was thinking of the right way to word his sentences so as to not come across a certain way. You nodded, having enough sense to know that your boyfriend wanted to talk to you seriously, forcing your eyes open as much as the sleepiness would allow.

“I’m up, I'm up… what is it, hm?” A silence followed as you waited for San to speak, you shifted in his lap so you were looking up right at him. his eyes focused on the television, but in a way that was zoned out and not actually paying attention to the content that was displayed on the screen.

“San?” your attention on him completely now, taking note of the way his eyebrows were furrowed together as his hand had slipped from your cheek amidst your shifting and was now lying comfortably across your neck. Hearing your voice snapped him out of his little daydream as he looked down out at you, the tips of his ears catching a blush.

“Oh, yeah. Um… I was just curious about- like- how do I say- uh,” his voice trailed off as he averted his attention back to the television. You waited expectantly, having an idea where this conversation might be leading to.

“Go on,” you spoke softly.

“Have you ever… touched yourself?” San whispered, as if speaking too loudly would get him scolded by the gods above. You couldn’t help but laugh, getting up from his lap and sitting up again on the couch to face him. Sleep was no longer something on your mind as your boyfriend never failed to catch your attention in conversations like this. He pouted, avoiding your eyesight and fidgeting with his fingers in his lap.

“Sorry baby, I don't mean to laugh. You’re just too cute when you get like this,” you leaned forward to place a quick kiss on his cheek before you leaned back and answered him properly.

“Yes, I have touched myself before. Who’s asking?” you teased.

San shot you a quick glance before facing forward again, shifting to sit up straighter. He cleared his throat before speaking once again.

“With a toy? Have you- uh- ever touched yourself with a toy?” His cheeks flushed as he moved his hands higher in his lap, crossing his legs. Your eyebrows raised, a slight smile forming on your face. You scooted closer to him, laying your head on his shoulder as you wrapped your arms around his bicep.

“Yes and no. I had like... one of those little bullet vibrators a long ass time ago that Heejin got me as a joke but ended up throwing that shit away ‘cause… well… it was a bullet vibrator,” you laughed, leaning your head further into his space.

“After that, it crossed my mind to maybe get actual toys. Like a vibrating dildo or a butt plug or something but it’s hard finding good sites that sell that shit discreetly and adult shops are just so… I feel too awkward,” your voice trailed, looking up to see San looking back down at you, waiting for you to finish your thoughts.

“You know how you see those videos of coffee shop baristas and they’re like ‘what your coffee order says about you’ or ‘what you look like based on your coffee order’ and it's a bunch of stereotypes that are lowkey kinda true? Yeah, I feel like that’s what would happen if I went to a sex shop. I mean, I think my kinks are pretty tame compared to extremists- at least I think they are- but… still it’s just so awkward,” you physically cringed.

San nodded, laughing lightly at the comparison you gave between coffee shops and sex shops. You reached up to place your hand on his cheek and turned him to face you.

“Are you asking me because you wanna get one?” You smiled mischievously.

“Well, you see, I was asking ‘cause, you know-“ San fumbled his words.

“We can if you want… I don't really mind. Is that what you were looking at on your phone?”

San nodded, reaching for his phone again, and stealing a quick glance at you before unlocking it and leaning into you so you both had a clear view of his screen.

The next hour was spent between looking at options before deciding on a generic vibrating dildo, deciding that you could upgrade later if need be. The estimated delivery time was said to be a week, so to your surprise at checking the mail room downstairs three days later with a package, was exciting to say the least.

On the way back to your room, you pulled your phone out, opening your chat with San.

y/n: bb look!

y/n: 1 file attachment

y/n: it just came in the mail... ;-)

y/n: tbh i'm surprised it got here so fast?? then again it says it came from that one town we drove thru on the way to my parents so ig it wasn’t that far??

“Hold on guys, gimme one sec,” San panted, breaking away from his friends and their current dance session.

“Aw shit, Mr. loverboy over here gotta answer to his girl,” Yunho teased, nudging Wooyoung as they both laughed amongst themselves.

San shot them both a teasing glare before picking up his phone and opening your messages. As he was getting ready to hit send, another message from you was delivered and soon after a photo attachment.

y/n: 1 file attachment

y/n: san omg

y/n: why does this thing look huge

y/n: its kinda cute tho good job picking it out

y/n: baby hurry up and get home plsplsplsplpslspsl need u nowww

“Whatcha looking at?” Wooyoung chirped, swinging his arm around San's shoulders and leaning towards his phone. Before San could push Wooyoung away, he was already opening his mouth.

“Damn! Is that a dildo? Since when did you get all freaky on us, man? Coulda sworn you were still a virgin!” Wooyoung grabbed his phone, clicking on the image you sent. Your hand was delicately wrapped around the base of the dildo, which was an opaque purple shade (color choice courtesy of San). Your hands did the toy no justice, because you were right- it did in fact look huge.

“Ay man, gimme my phone,” San said in his most assertive voice he could muster, not even bothering to panic or make frantic moves at Wooyoung- knowing how his friend was. It didn't help that his cheeks were tinted with a light blush and he could feel his cock stirring in his sweats at the thought of you begging for him to come home so you guys could get play around.

“Hey, what happened?” Yunho came up to San and Wooyoung, looking between the two men. San’s phone pinged again with another message from you and Wooyoung took a quick glance, smirking, before handing the phone back to San.

“Well, our Sannie boy here seems to have gotten a bit mischievous these days, Yunho. I think we should wrap up practice early today, let him get back home to his girl,” Wooyoung said as he looked back at a confused Yunho.

San looked down at his phone quickly, wondering what could’ve possibly gotten Wooyoung to say such a response.

y/n: 1 file attachment

y/n: can’t wait to play w my sweet boy <3

The picture was of you already in bed, one of San’s shirts with some cute but simple black lace panties. Your knees were bent and the dildo was laying between your thighs as if to make it appear like you were wearing a strap-on.

San's eyes went wide, his ears feeling hot, and his stomach flipping knowing that one of his friends was well-aware about the kind of activities you and him were planning on having tonight.

“Oh yeah? I was actually planning on cutting practice early anyways. Mingi texted me asking if I could stop by the studio for some feedback on some of his and Joong’s songs for that showcase in a couple weeks,” Yunho eyed San carefully, who was staring at his phone screen intently. Wooyoung laughed as he caught Yunho's confused expression towards San.

“Alright, well I'm out then! I'll catch y’all later! I gotta meet up with Jongho and Yeosang for one of our CompSci classes,” Wooyoung headed for the door, grabbing his jacket and bag from the rack. “Oh and San, one more thing,” Wooyoung turned around, waiting for San to look up at him and properly acknowledge him. San's attention averted to Wooyoung, waiting for him to speak.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn't do... and trust me, there’s not a lot out there I wouldn't,” he shot San a wink before slipping out the door.

“That guy, man,” Yunho laughed, shaking his head.

“Well, I'm gonna head out? Just text in the group chat when you wanna meet up again, you know when I'm free. Or let Seonghwa know,” San spoke quietly, his mind still reeling on the fact that you were home alone right now, horny, waiting for him.

The feeling of his cock being constrained tightly against the band of his boxers turned into an aching sensation- god, he just wanted to be with you already.

“Yeah, I'll text you later,” the two men nodded at each other. San made his way to the door, and just before he had the chance to exit, Yunho called out to him.

“Ya!”

San turned around, looking expectantly at Yunho.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn't do.” Yunho smiled, waving San off.

“Shut up, Yunho.” San laughed, giving him the middle finger and shaking his head.

And with that, San slipped out of the practice room, making his way to his car.

You were laid in bed, scrolling mindlessly between social media outlets, distracting yourself enough as you waited for San to get home from dance practice.

[new notifications]

my bb: on my way home now, my love

my bb: ur kinda insane btw

my bb: sending pictures like that while im out

my bb: the guys ended practice early, had some other stuff they needed to do

my bb: ill be home in 5

You smiled reading the messages, excited to see your boyfriend after you’d both been busy with classes and any other extracurricular activities you guys were involved in, but even more so knowing that you were going to be able to try out your new toy.

When San had arrived home, you were sprawled out on your stomach, a blanket draped over your lower half, the dildo and your phone momentarily forgotten. The faint sound of music flooded the room, your eyes closed as you quietly sang along.

San was true to his word because 5 minutes later he was entering your room, jacket and shoes already off, pulling his shirt over his head and discarding it to the chair tucked under your desk. The bed dipped as you felt a hand lay across your back, opening your eyes to welcome San laying down next to you, shirtless, in the bottoms he wore to practice and sweaty hair.

“Hi,” you spoke softly, shifting to face San as a hand reached up to cup his cheek. Your thumb ran along the skin, his eyes fluttering at your soft touch.

“How was your practice, hm?”

“It was fine. Probably one of our better ones in a while so I’m kinda pissed it ended earlier than I expected, but I'm home now so I’m not complaining.” He finished his thought with a kiss to the tip of your nose as his hand was rubbing up and down along your back.

“Well, I'm glad your home ‘cause that means I get to take all your attention.”

“Hm, so where is it? Where’s the- uh, you know…”

You smiled at San getting flustered over his words, leaning back to feel around the bed before you finally lifted the blanket to reveal the cute little toy. You reached for it, putting it between you and San as you looked back at him expectantly.

“Right here! Isn’t it cute?”

You rotated the toy in your hands, there wasn’t much to admire apart from the color and thickness and the handle with the buttons at the bottom. San’s cheeks were flushed as his hands traveled to your waist, gripping firmly.

“Yeah.. yeah it is,” he nervously laughed. “Did you... already put batteries in it?”

“Mhm, but I haven’t tested it out yet. I was waiting for you to get home.”

You pressed the tip of the toy into San’s pectoral, slightly shifting your hand around to press the power button at one of the lower settings, a faint buzzing echoing in your ears. San began to breathe heavier, his grip on your waist loosening as his eyes screwed shut.

“What… what are you doing?” San sighed, eyes opening slightly as he looked down at you.

“Do you trust me?” your hand stilled.

San nodded.

“Wanna hear you say it, baby. Do you trust me?”

“Yes, fuck, I trust you. I trust you so much, please." San's eyes screwed shut again. He didn’t know what he was begging for, he just wanted something. Since he’d left the studio, he’d been fighting down his boner the whole ride home, wanting to wait for you to play with him. It felt as though every bone in him was going to snap if he didn’t get some form of release, and fast.

You used your free hand to lightly push him on his back, soon adjusting yourself to swing your leg over his waist. You leaned forward, pressing a light kiss against his lips before you rested your forehead against his.

You had nudged your nose against his softly, a butterfly kiss.

“Then lemme take care of you, sweet boy.”

San let out a low moan, bucking his hips against you. You leaned back, pressing your weight against his cock, his chest heaving up and down quickly, arms tense at his sides. You let out a breathy laugh at his nervous reaction, suddenly feeling your own chest tighten with nerves. This was really happening, huh?

“Just relax, baby. I got you, okay?” You ran the toy that was still vibrating slightly down the middle of his chest, stopping right above his naval.

“If you don’t like something, promise you’ll tell me, yeah?”

“Yes, yes, Y/N I’ll tell you, just- just please-” you looked below where your crotch was on top of San. He still had his practice sweats on, his cock straining so hard in the confinement.

“Is it okay if I take these off you?”

You switched the vibrator off before tossing it to the side, getting up to stand at San’s feet which were hanging off the end of the bed. A quick yes was enough confirmation to slide his sweats off, once off your hand reached to his briefs, stopping just as your fingers hooked on either side of the band.

“These too?”

Another quick yes from San allowed him to be laying completely naked in front of you. His cock sprung, slapping against his naval, red and leaking with pre-cum- begging for some friction.

You crawled back up the bed, hands resting on either side of San’s head. You reached to his forehead to brush the hair that was beginning to curtain his eyes, feeling the sweat that was starting to form at his hairline. You leaned down, pressing your lips to the spot between his eyebrows and leaving a trail of kisses down to his cheeks and jawline before making a final round to his lips. His arms wrapped around your back, pulling you flush against his chest as his tongue slipped in your mouth.

You both stayed like that for god knows how long, lazily making out and groping one another, enjoying each other’s presence to the fullest. San pulled away from you, looking up at you with swollen, wet lips and flushed cheeks.

“Baby, I love kissing you so much, you know that, but my dick is so hard right now that I feel like I'm about to pass out,” he whispered, his hands pushing your shirt up and then making their way down to the swell of your ass.

You laughed, lifting yourself off of him to sit yourself in his lap but he stopped you before you could get yourself comfortable and situated.

“Wait! Wait... um- can you- would you mind taking these off?” San asked sheepishly, fingers hooking ever so lightly in the waistband.

You felt yourself clench around nothing, you and San hadn’t been naked in front of each other like this. Not in such a lewd position at least, so the thought had your mind and body raging with nerves and excitement. You moved quickly to rid your panties from your legs, your essence following along and smearing on the inside of your thighs. San's eyes followed your movements and in the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of his dick twitching against his stomach.

You climbed back on the bed, legs on either side of San’s hips, lowering yourself so the underside of San's cock was wedged between your pussy.

“Fuck,” San whined, hands finding purchasing on your waist again and making their way under the front of your shirt to grope at your bra-less chest.

You were embarrassed at how turned on you were, but before you even had enough time to register that, your hips moved along San’s length. Your slick made your movements easier, stopping yourself just enough that your clit teased against the head of his cock. You felt San’s index finger flick against your hardened nipple, your hips stuttering as you let out a breathy moan.

“Baby, you’re gonna be the death of me you know that?” You moaned again as San brought his thumb up to pinch your nipple. “So cute, so good for me. Always treat me so good, fuck, got such a pretty cock too.”

You reached to your side, grabbing the dildo and turning it on low. San's eyes followed your movement, you pressed the tip of the toy to slit San's cock. His body jolted under you, his mouth fell lax as his stomach tensed. Your free hand scratched lightly at his stomach, your other pressed the toy harder against the slit of his cock as you began to softly grind your clit along his length.

“Oh- oh my god- fuck,” San’s body shook as he let out a string of profanities. “It feels too good, y/n. I think I'm gonna come- fuckfuckfuck.”

“Go ahead, baby. You deserve it, go ahead and make a mess.”

You moved your hips against his length faster, loving the way his stomach and thighs were flexing underneath you.

“I’m coming, oh fuck, oh-” San’s arms flew over his face as he let out a long whine.

Hot, milky spurts painted his stomach and chest beautifully, a little bit shooting up underneath his chin and along his neck. you slowed your hips, taking in how fucked out your boyfriend looked like this.

You turned off the toy, setting it down next to you as you reached up to San, removing his arms from his face. His eyes were barely open, his whole face flushed as his bangs were matted against his forehead.

“Hey, you okay?” You whispered softly, planting a soft kiss to his lips. San hummed in confirmation, a soft smile forming on his face.

“Good, lemme clean you up real quick.” You leaned back, swiping your finger at some of the mess on San's stomach and bringing it to your lips. To your surprise, San’s cock twitched ever so slightly, still red and half-hard.

You got up to grab the towel from your desk chair, walking back and softly wiping at San’s stomach, chest, and neck. Once finished, you settled in bed next to him, laying on your side.

“You didn’t come?”

You shook your head no as your hand reached up to play with his hair.

“But don’t worry about it. Tonight was about you, okay?”

San pouted, and in a blink of an eye he was hovering over you. both of his hands planted on either side of your head, his half-hard cock weighing down against your mound.

“Lemme take care of you... I wanna play with you too.”

He sat back on his heels, his hands moving to your knees and spreading your legs apart so your pussy was on full display. Your breath hitched as you saw him reach for the toy, his hands twisting it around to maneuver the buttons on. The buzzing sound filled the room again and soon you felt a pressure against your clit.

Moaning, you looked down where San’s hand lay between your legs holding the toy. He was unsure what to do, it was clear on his face. You reached down to wrap your hand around his wrist.

“Here. Like this.”

You moved the toy along your folds; San shifted on the bed so he was now laying on his stomach, his face adjacent from your pussy, teeth between his lips as he watched intently how you moved his hand around to pleasure yourself.

He turned the setting up a notch with his free hand, before moving it to grab underneath your thigh and placing it over his shoulder.

“Is it okay if I put- hm... put it in?” He asked, placing a quick kiss on your thigh before he turned his attention back to your fluttering hole.

“Yes, please baby, please put it in.”

You moaned as his hand moved the toy just right and the tip of the toy prodded at your entrance. The grip San had on your thigh tightened as the toy pushed its way in slowly.

You couldn’t see, too enthralled in your own pleasure, but San’s hips had begun to rut against the bed. He’d been imagining his own cock in place of the toy, easing into you, stretching you out, making you shake, maybe even cry with how good it all fucking felt. He was eager to make you climax, so he continued to push the toy into you, giving the bed beneath him a particularly hard thrust as well.

Your walls fluttered against the toy, it’d been awhile since you’d felt so full. You’d touched yourself before but the width and length of your fingers was far different compared to how the toy felt inside you. Even far more different when it was your lover who was fucking you with it.

Your hand slid up your shirt, grabbing at your breasts as the other went to pull at San’s hair.

“Feels so full.” You moaned, your hips moving at the same rhythm of San’s hand.

“Wish it was your cock making me feel good, want it. Want it so bad, baby.”

You were close, so fucking close.

San began to push the toy deeper in you all while kissing and biting at your thigh.

“Fuck- faster.”

The grip on San’s hair tightened. The tension you felt in your belly ready to snap at any given moment.

“Like that?” San whispered, his hand pushing the toy in and out of you.

“Yes- don’t stop. please, please baby don’t fucking stop. I’m gonna come-” You squirmed along the bed, trying to move your hips along with the perfect rhythm that San had created.

You felt him press your hips down to still you, his head moving forward as you felt his lips place a feathery kiss to your clit before giving it a harsh suck. You finally snapped.

“Oh fuck I’m coming- fuck! I’m coming.” You whined as your legs tried closing in around San to snap shut.

San didn’t let up on the sucking, still holding the toy deep inside you trying to make the most of your orgasm. He moaned against your clit, releasing from you with a faint pop and leaning his head against your thigh.

You looked down at him as he pulled to toy out from you, his eyes admiring how wet you’d made it. As if his curiosity got the best of him, he brought the toy to his mouth and wrapped his lips around the tip. His eyes met yours as his cheeks hollowed out, pushing the toy further in before pulling out and licking his lips clean. He made his way back up to you, putting all his body weight on you and nuzzling his face into your neck, letting out a sigh of content.

“You taste good, babe, wanna eat you out next time,” San whispered in your ear, his tongue playfully licking at your earlobe.

“I don’t know how you do it.”

San lifted his head from your neck and peppered kisses all over your cheek.

“Do what?” He pushed himself off you, grabbing the towel you had used on him earlier and pushing your legs apart so he could gently wipe you clean. You used as much strength as you had left to bring yourself up to rest on your elbows, eyeing him.

“Drive me crazy, that’s what.” You laughed as your eyes trailed down to where San was laying earlier.

“Hey what’s that?” You pointed at the rather large spot on the comforter, San looked to where you were pointing, his eyes going wide.

“Holy shit… no fucking way.” Your jaw dropped in disbelief. “You came again? On the bed?”

“Well... yeah…” San mumbled, tossing the towel to the pile of discarded clothes.

You laughed, crawling your way across the bed to meet your boyfriend, arms wrapping around his neck as his naturally fell around your hips.

“You’re a naughty thing, you know that? Are you sure you’re a virgin?” You teased, no real malice or doubt in your voice.

You leaned forward to kiss the tip of his nose, catching the way his lips curved into a small smile.

“How ‘bout we run a shower and we can worry about the sheets later, hm?” San nodded at your suggestion, lowering himself to grab the back of your thighs before lifting you up.

Your legs wrapped around his waist as he began walking to the bathroom.

“Hey,” you spoke softly. He stopped in his tracks, moving his head to face you, waiting attentively.

“Just wanted to say I love you,” you kissed him, feeling him smile against your lips, the feeling never getting old. He pulled away from you, resting his forehead against yours.

“I love you more, pretty girl.”

The last time you and San had messed around was a lot farther than you both had gotten with each other, and the more that you guys explored and experimented with each other’s bodies, the more both of you found yourselves constantly looking for ways to feed each other affection.

San was aware of your sexual experience and at times when he was too lost in his head, he’d often feel insecure and wonder if the other people you’d been with were better- in any aspect really.

However, you constantly reassured him otherwise and for that he was more than thankful. Which led him to his current predicament.

You weren’t at the apartment, having had to run some errands for the day and San insisted on making time to hang out. He’d woken up too late that you’d already left to go do the things you needed to get done, so you suggested he just wait at home until you finished. Ever so quick to please, he found himself doing random chores around the place to keep himself occupied.

Today was laundry day, he dumped the basket of clothes on the bed that you had taken forever to fold (one of his little pet peeves but, still, he didn’t mind picking up the slack every now and then because he knew how busy you got.)

He hadn’t realized that the current load to switch from the laundry was your delicates (he zoned out quite a lot when he was left to his own devices), and for whatever reason he was feeling himself become more and more embarrassed as the seconds passed.

It was just panties, he didn’t know why he’d felt so shy about it. He’d seen you in your panties plenty of times, even if you were just lounging around in them. You were his partner, there was really no need to get all worked up, right?

No, there definitely was. He felt like a pervert feeling himself warm up at the thought of messing around with your intimate pieces of clothing without you here. But that feeling didn’t stop him from doing what he was about to do next.

He kicked his shoes off, making his way to your bed and laying amongst your sheets. Flipping over on his stomach, he buried his face in your pillow letting out a soft sigh. It smelled like you, sweet and safe, mixed with the stench of clean linens. He laid like that a little longer, the feeling of sleep trying to grasp him and almost winning. It wasn't until he shifted around to lay on his back that he noticed the tent forming in between his legs.

“Jesus…” he muttered to himself, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He was definitely more in love with you then he’d thought. You were always so understanding… so willing to let him explore his sexuality comfortably. but also so independent and level-headed, you just had so many qualities to you that he absolutely loved and made him feel loved and maybe that’s why just the thought of you drove him mad and never failed to awaken something deep inside of him. His heart swelled up each time you crossed his mind and for that he knew he was truly deep in some shit.

For fuck’s sake- he was getting hard just being in your most intimate spaces- without you even here next to him!

He closed his eyes, hands fisting the sheets lightly. He didn’t want to get off right now, at least not until you got back or something. But the idea of also getting off in your bed, while you weren’t there next to him was also kind of exciting. He laid still for a few minutes, mentally giving himself a time frame to see if his erection would go away and if it softened- then that was that; if it didn’t… well he’d cross that bridge when he got there.

And much to his surprise, it didn’t soften. Getting up from your bed, he paced around your room. He was really contemplating the idea of getting off, wondering if he should text you and ask; you know- for the sake of being polite. But that idea sounded stupid and truthfully, he couldn’t bring himself to ask, not wanting to face any judgment you might have (little to his knowledge, you found it hot that San had his little perv-y moments- but you weren’t going to tell him that).

Amongst his pacing, his hip bumped into one of your dresser drawers that had been left slightly open amidst your morning routine.

“Ah- fuck!” San grabbed his hip, rubbing harshly to soothe the pain. He looked down at the drawer he bumped into, noticing a mixture of patterns of lace and cotton intertwining with each other. His curiosity never failed to get the best of him, he reached for the drawer, hooking his fingers around the edge and pulling it open, bracing himself.

He’d already known what to expect when he opened the drawer quite truthfully, but god did he still feel a little shameful when he felt his cock twitch in his sweats looking at your panties that laid messily folded in the drawer below him.

He reached for the contents hesitantly, his eyes catching on a pair he remembered you wearing for one of your date nights. It was a black lace piece, the pattern soft and elegant like you, he thought to himself, with a tiny little pink rose placed atop a bow. that night you’d worn them, you and San were leaving a restaurant when your shoelaces had come undone- and ever the gentleman, San had offered to tie it for you. Insisting that he didn’t want you to bend down and worry about your skirt riding up or you flashing anyone, and maybe he’d taken a quick look up your skirt when you weren’t looking (you definitely noticed) but that was a story for another day.

Once he grabbed the panties, he noticed that the lace was a lot smoother in his hands than he thought, he wondered if you’d ever bought lingerie for him- or for your other past partners. He shook the thought from his head, not wanting to think about you being with other people right now- past or not.

His mind wandered as he remembered the first time you laid in front of him, in his shirt and panties, his hot come laying on your mound as you looked completely fucked out. San’s grip tightened around your panties as he debated this dilemma internally.

“Fuck it,” he muttered to himself as he closed the drawer with his other hand and made his way to your bed. He moved around, so that his body was half sitting up and half laying down against your sheets. If he was going to do this, he wanted to at least be comfortable.

His cock was throbbing and it was starting to be painful, that familiar wet patch seeping its way through his underwear and sweats as if welcoming him for indulging in his sinful desires.

He bunched his shirt to his chest and pulled his bottoms down to just above his knees; his cock slapping against his naval, red and shiny.

He let out a soft moan at the contact, mind turning to mush as the smell of your sheets was making him feel so… safe. He gripped himself at the base, bringing his other hand that had your panties to his nose. his hand flinched, his thoughts making him second guess himself one last time before he inhaled deeply, tightening his grip around his cock.

“Fuck,” he whined, inhaling your panties one last time before bringing it to the tip of his cock and slowly wrapping the fabric around himself. The feeling of the lace was different and for a split second his mind entertained the idea of what it’d be like to wear them while he got himself off to the thought of you, but he was too desperate now- the thought leaving his mind just as fast as it had entered his head.

He palmed the head of his cock, the lace rubbing against his slit, while his other hand tugged at his balls.

He felt dirty, filthy… utterly sinful. But he didn’t care as he kept stroking himself as he remembered the blissful look of you coming hard on that toy you’d both picked out. The hand that was tugging himself found his way up his stomach, lightly raking his nails against the skin before sliding under his shirt and stopping at his hardened nipple.

“Baby, please,” he whined softly. It was useless to beg, you weren’t there of course but he couldn’t help himself. He pictured himself between your legs again, this time having you ride his face. Using him however you wanted, his tongue prodding against your hole as he sucked and sucked and sucked against your clit.

He flicked his nipple before giving it a quick pinch, his hips jerking off the bed against his panty-covered hand. He moved his hand free from his chest, bringing it down to his cock so both of his hands were wrapped around his shaft. Your panties covered his tip completely as he began to rut his hips upwards, both hands moving along with his hips.

He was close, so fucking close and it was all happening to quick.

“Fuck,” San groaned, “fuckfuckfuck,” his hips moved faster as his imagination kept going on and on with different scenarios of how he wanted to ravish you. Images of him fucking you in every position you could imagine, ran through his head.

But the one that sent him over the edge was you on top, riding him dangerously slow, playing with your tits. In his head, you’d reached down and grabbed his chin, asking him so sweetly to look at you and open his mouth- and he did. you’d lean over him, letting go of his chin before making him stick his tongue out and grabbing the tip of it with your fingers and holding it firmly, leaning down and whispering obscene things to him- about him.

How he was so good for you, letting you fuck him dumb and never even imagining that he’d let you take control of him like this.

“Oh my fucking god I’m gonna come, please, oh my god,” San whined. “Wanna be good for you, so fucking good baby, please, feels so fucking good.”

His hips stuttered as his eyes closed shut, a deep moan coming from his chest. He opened his eyes enough to look down, he felt like he couldn’t stop coming, his come seeping through your panties and sliding down his fisted hands.

For his own, twisted pleasure, he continued to stroke himself. Swiping at some of his come and bringing it to his slit, running his index finger back and forth. His body shivered, he wondered to himself if he could come again- Maybe if he really tried, but he knew as long as you ran through his head, anything was possible.

However, he was snapped out of his post-orgasm daze when his phone began to ring. He searched the bed looking for the sound, finally grabbing his phone and seeing your name flash against the screen. His heart pounded against his chest as he hit the green button.

“Hey, babe, what’s up?” He cleared his throat in hopes of not sounding too… off.

“Hey, was just calling ‘cause you weren’t answering my texts- just wanted to make sure you were good.”

You mumbled something after that he couldn’t make out, hearing a faint honking noise in the background.

“Anyways, I'm on my way back to the apartment, but wanted to see if you needed me to stop and get anything? You hungry?”

“No, I'm okay, just drive safe. I miss you.”

You laughed.

“I miss you, too, baby. You okay, though? You sound kinda off?”

“No- yeah, yeah I’m fine! Was just dozing off waiting for you, s’all.”

“Mhm… right.”

Your voice dragged, not entirely convinced.

“Okay, well, I’m not that far so I'll see you in a sec. Love you!”

“I love you more,” and with that you both hung up.

San set his phone down, laying his head back against your pillows as he looked up at the ceiling. He felt himself soften in his hands, the lace of the panties laying across more of his lower half. He entertained the thought more adequately this time, wondering what it’d be like to wear something like this, how would he look if you fucked him stupid while he wore-

“What the fuck?” he mumbled to himself, shaking his head as if to rid himself physically from the thought. He got up, looking for something to clean himself with as he tried to figure out where to put your now-stained panties.

Once that was decided, he laid back in your bed. Shuffling under the covers and recapping everything that had happened within the last hour. He shut his eyes briefly and on cue, the door beeped, signaling you had just gotten home.

He laughed to himself both in disbelief and embarrassment, you were really making him question everything. But for some reason, he didn’t mind as long as it was you.

It had been a few days after you had run your errands and had come back home to San lying around (quite suspiciously might you add) in your bed.

You didn't want to press him on it, but that didn’t keep you from having your own suspicions. Letting whatever it was that he was hiding, to let it be. Which you figured it couldn't have been that bad to begin with regardless, just that he had maybe been a bit... mischievous.

But it was the thought of him being alone in your room for that long, and knowing him, he intentionally or unintentionally snooped around.

Today was a laundry day though, you had grabbed your hamper and dumped the clothes on your floor so you could separate the delicates and the colors.

Amidst your separating, you noticed the black lace pair you'd worn ages ago, on one of the first dates that you and San had gone on.

You guys were walking back to the car when he had stopped you, letting you know your shoelace had come undone. Just as you were about to bend down and tie your shoe, he stopped you, insisting you shouldn't because you were wearing a skirt and he didn't want you to be uncomfortable. As he fell to his knees, you shifted your legs slightly, moving one foot out so he could tie your shoe easier. In doing so, your skirt raised, allowing your underwear to be seen. San's head turned, taking a quick peek and trying to memorize the lace pattern that was laying across your skin. You definitely noticed, turning your head away and smiling to yourself.

You reached for the pair, wondering to yourself when it was that you had worn them, dropping them once you realized that the pair had faint, white residue. Your eyebrows furrowed as you thought of all possibilities as to why your underwear would have dry cum on them.

Did... San...? You wondered, before thinking of ways in which you should ask him about it, or even if you wanted to. You decided to leave it be for now, ready to be over with your daily chores for the day.

[new notifications]

y/n: babe~

y/n: r u ready

y/n: im abt to be there in 5 :]

San's phone buzzed from his shelf as he finished gathering up the rest of his items for your guy's trip. It was your first trip together, and he wasn't too sure about you, but he was definitely excited because this was finally going to be it.

You had both talked about finally going all the way together, and San insisted at least creating a little world away from the craziness of your everyday lives so he could fully enjoy you. You thought it was sweet and honestly, he was the only boyfriend you had who was so adamant on constantly trying to create the perfect atmosphere to show his deep love for you, and it made your heart swell every single time.

His phone buzzed again, he glanced down at his watch, seeing a new message from you saying you were here. He walked over to the shelf where his phone was, grabbing it along with his weekend bag and heading out.

You waited patiently in the car, your thumbs tapping against the steering wheel to the rhythm of the music playing in the background. You snapped out of your mindless daze when you felt a knock against the window, you turned your head, meeting San's eyes as he pointed to the back of your car, signaling you to open the trunk.

Moments later he was sliding in the passenger seat next to you, leaning over the console and placing a soft kiss on your cheek.

"Hi baby," he said as he leaned back and hastened his seat belt over his chest, securing it in the buckle.

You smiled, "Hi, how'd you sleep?"

"Good, I think," he reached for your hand as you put the car in drive, listening idly to where the GPS was telling you to go. "Missed you, was excited all night for this trip," he brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss.

You hummed, "You're awfully affectionate today, you really missed me that much, huh?"

San let out a light laugh, "I miss you everyday."

A comfortable silence shortly fell between the both of you as you continued to drive.

You pulled up to the Airbnb, which San had reserved for the holiday weekend. Calm waves hit the shore, and the sound of birds chirping echoed softly in the distance.

You put the car in park, nudging San slightly to get his attention.

"Look," you nodded your head in front of you. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"Wow," San leaned forward in his seat, his mouth open in awe. "It is... can't believe we get to spend the holiday here."

"C'mon, let's go check it out," you smiled before stepping out of the car.

You made your way to the house, San following behind. You opened the door, taking note of the spacious interior.

You felt San's arms wrap around you, him leaning down and placing soft kisses along your cheek before making his way up to your ear.

"All this space just for us, hm," he poked his tongue out, laying a soft lick against your lobe. "Wanna take you on every. Single. Surface."

You leaned back against him, your eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of him being so close.

"Yeah yeah, you can after we get settled in," you hummed, pushing yourself off him and making your way further into the house. You set your keys on the counter, taking one last look at the Airbnb before turning back to San and making your way to the door. As you were about to pass him, your hands tapped at his chest before pulling him with you.

"C'mon, you nasty boy, let's unload the car," You said, a light laugh from San following shortly after.

You stepped out the restroom, your robe hanging carelessly around your body as you tried drying off your hair as best as you could.

"Babe, I still don't know why we can't just shower together," San grumbled from the bed.

"'Cause," you mumbled, making your way to your suitcase. "I still get shy."

You rummaged through your clothes, looking for some undergarments and a lounge shirt. Quickly slipping them on, your eyes caught a peek at that specific pair you brought with you. You turned around to quickly glance at San, seeing that he was sprawled on the bed, shirtless and in sweats. His arms were crossed over his face as he mindlessly sung to himself. You reached down for the pair, finally turning around and tossing them onto San's chest.

His body gently flinched at the contact in surprise, before he moved his arms down and looked at what was laying on his chest. His body froze.

"Y'know I'd been meaning to ask you if those looked familiar," You said as you walked over to the bed, climbing your way up to seat yourself in San's lap. He looked up at you, his ears and face turning flush as he hummed in response.

"I was doing my laundry before the trip and well," You reached for the underwear before dragging it across his stomach. "I like to separate my delicates and colors and such... and I couldn't help but notice those were dirty."

"I also couldn't remember the last time I had worn them, at least recently. Do you know what they were dirty with, San?"

He looked up at you briefly, his cheeks flushed and eyes full of guilt. Despite that, you felt him growing hard underneath you. you didn't give him a chance to answer before leaning down next to his ear and whispering, "They were dirty with someone's cum, baby... can you believe it?"

He let out a soft groan, his hands reaching for your waist before making their way down to your ass and gently groping you.

"Fine, fine. I'm guilty, you got me." His eyes squeezed shut as he gripped your ass more rough, before rolling his hips up into you.

You gasped, your chest pressing flush against San. "I wasn't expecting you to admit it so fast."

"Yeah, I know. I'm embarrassed, but right now I don't care. Just want you to touch me," His hands removed themselves from your ass before bringing them up to the back of your neck and pulling you into a kiss.

The kiss was slow and lazy, your hands making their way to lay gently on top of San's chest.

"Mm, babe," your voice muffled against San's lips, he hummed, pressing his lips harder and grabbing your ass tighter. You managed to pull away, pressing your forehead against his, opening your eyes slightly to see his eyes still shut.

"San," you whispered, pulling away completely to look down at him from being seated in his lap. You took note of the way his body stayed flush, the light sheen of sweat glistening in the dim light, his pink swollen lips, to the way his sweats were snug around his hard cock.

"Why don't you..." Your hands slowly moved around his chest, the tips of your fingers grazing his skin like a feather, before stopping at the buds of his nipples. "Why don't you show me how you made a mess on my panties in the first place, huh?" Your fingers moved on their own, lightly pinching the buds between them and giving them a soft tug, testing the waters.

San moaned, his shoulders squirming against the mattress, "S-show you? Yeah, yeah I can do that, j-just lemme- ah," He opened his eyes to look up at you, the glossy look he had during moments like this never failing to make you weak. He lightly tapped your ass, signaling you to get off him, in which you complied. You shuffled along the bed until your back was leaning against the headboard, your shirt scrunched to your waist leaving the top of your thighs exposed. San moved next to you, moving himself around the bed until he managed to squirm his way to lay between your legs, his back pressed against your stomach and his head resting against your shoulder.

"You..." San's hands found their way to lay on the sides of your thighs, gently squeezing. "You said to show you, so I just thought... that maybe this would be... the best view I could give you." San's voice barely above a whisper, his head turning to look up at you. You nodded, looking back at him, leaning in to give him a quick kiss, your legs bending to place your feet on his waistband, doing your best attempt at trying to slide his sweats down.

His hands wrapped your ankles, leaning forward and giving each one a swift kiss before gently placing them on either side of his hips and laying back against you. He shimmied his way out his sweats before kicking them to the edge of the bed, his naked body on full display before you.

"It feels nicer like this," San said, his voice having a gravel edge to it. "When I was in your bed, I didn't have the luxury to be naked like I am now.." his cock looked angry laying against his stomach, beads of pre-cum smearing against the tight skin of his lower stomach. You stared in awe, before looking briefly at San's face, his hair falling into his eyes. You reached a hand to lay in his hair, swiping the hair upwards and running your nails gently back and forth against his scalp. San sighed, his cock jolting against his stomach, his head following the caresses of your hand.

"Y/n... you know," San’s hands clenched repeatedly against his sides before reaching down to wrap around his length. “There was so much that I was thinking about when I was laying in your bed.”

His hands massaged his length slowly, occasionally reaching down to tug at his balls before continuing his ministrations on himself.

You felt the wetness growing between your legs, your eyes skimming every part of his body displayed before you. the sheen of sweat forming at the base of his neck and trailing down the wide expanse of his chest. Your hands moved to his shoulders, gently caressing down his arms.

You hummed waiting for him to continue, shifting your hips as best as you could in your current position.

“You were on top, riding my face, and I was letting you do whatever you wanted to me, it just- ah- felt so good... knowing you were so good- feelin’ so good and-” San let out a loud moan, throwing his head back against your shoulder, eyes screwed shut. his hands tugged harder at his length, his thumb playing at the sensitive slit.

“What else, hm?” Your hands made their way to his nipples, testing the waters again and gently grazing against the hardened buds.

San's body caved in on itself at the sudden contact, rushing to tell you to wait.

“You okay?” You managed to get out, feeling your chest squeeze.

“Sorry, yes yes, I’m okay, it’s just.. if you keep doing that I’ll come too soon.”

"Here, lemme get up."

San moved forward to let you move from behind him.

"Lay back."

His hand released his cock as he shifted around before finally grabbing a pillow and resting it behind his head. You shuffled to sit on top of him, not fully planting all your body weight down. San's breath hitched. Your hands reached for the knot of your robe, slowly untying it to reveal yourself before San and letting it fall down the expanse of your shoulders and back.

San's eyes focused on every part of you, the way your nipples were perked from being aroused and the slight cool air that was slowly turning hot. The way your soft flesh was flushed, the way your thighs looked caging his frame at his hips. But his eyes really caught focus on the way your pussy was beginning to drip with wetness onto his cock. "Is this okay?" You quietly asked, leaning forward to rest your hands on either side of his head.

"Perfect, you're perfect. It's perfect. C'mere." San reached around the best he could to pull you down to meet his lips by the back of your neck. His hands resting on either side of your face, thumbs caressing your cheeks as your tongues swirled around each other. You felt yourself relaxing, your chest pressed against his and finally seating yourself on top of his cock. San moaned, his hips bucking up quickly, the tip of his cock briefly rubbing against your bundle of nerves. You pulled away from his lips, meeting his eyes before resting your forehead on his.

"Did you want to... you know," Your voice trailed off in a whisper.

"Please, yes. Yes, did you-"

"We can stay like this if that's okay with you, I really don't mind."

"That's okay," San gulped. Suddenly feeling his nerves spike. He wasn't worried about anything other than cumming quickly. Which would be as expected, considering his circumstances. But he had some hope that he could last at least enough time to help you reach your climax. Regardless, he trusted you.

You pushed yourself up, suddenly feeling anxious. You reached down to grab at the base San's cock, lining it up with your entrance. You could feel San's eyes staring at where his cock and your pussy were able to meet. He felt heavy in your hands, each throb a reflection of his unwavering desire for you. You lowered yourself on him, your essence making it easier for you to slide down. It had obviously been a while since you had actual sex, and pleasuring yourself did not compare to the feeling of having the man you loved inside you. The tip of his cock had pushed through, you felt yourself clench around the intrusion. You and San let out a moan in unison.

"Why- Why do I feel like I'm gonna come?" San said in a strained voice as his hands fisted the sheets, stomach tensing beneath you.

"Just- Wait-" You breathed out, letting all your weight down on San's cock. The feeling of him stuffed fully inside of you made you feel dizzy nonetheless. San let out a long whine, he pushed himself up from the mattress to meet your body, pulling you in a tight hug.

"I love you so much, so so much. You don't even understand." San grumbled into the crook of your neck, placing kisses along the spot where your ear and neck met. You let out a needy whine, reaching your arms around his back to embrace him as well. You moved your hips as best as you could given the current position, grinding in small circles. San pulled away, one of his hands reaching to grope at your chest.

He leaned down, kissing along the valley of your chest that led down to your nipple. His mouth closed around the perked bud, his tongue swirling around delicately. You let out a moan, your hands reaching up to take hold of his hair, nails gently scraping against his scalp before gently tugging at the roots.

San's hands reached around you again, his nails softly scratching down against the expanse of your back before finding purchase on your ass. He gripped the flesh with firmness, pulling you down as he tried to buck up into you. The tip of his cock grazed the cervix ever so slightly, causing you to let out a sharp whine.

"Sannie, baby, do that- do that again." That was the first time San heard you call him that. It triggered something in him, but he couldn't quite explain it. He brought your hips down again as he bucked up into you, leaning forward and clumsily capturing your lips in a kiss.

His cock twitched inside you, it didn't take much to know that he was close. You were honestly surprised that he had held out this long but then again you two had fooled around before this so how surprising could it really have been. You pulled away from his lips, leaning in for one last peck before moving your hips with more fervor.

"C'mon baby, I know you're close. It's okay, you can let it out."

If you had to ask San to relive one moment from his life again before he died, he'd think he'd confidently say that it'd be this moment. He actually might be dramatic, it would probably be an entirely different moment, but his mental, his senses, his heart, was so consumed with the thought of you that he was sure that if he died right now, he’d die a happy man.

There was something about the way that you always softly demanded him or guided him during these intimate moments- there was a gentleness mixed with a sternness in your demeanor that drove him insane.

He gave one last buck of his hips, the plushness of your ass jiggling slightly against his hands before he felt the tension that was in his balls release.

San held you close, his head falling on your shoulder and leaning into the crook of your neck. The loud groan being the only thing that you could hear, you felt your body shudder at the feeling of hot ropes of cum painting your gummy walls. You sat there on the bed in each other’s embrace for what felt like an eternity, San was the first to say something.

“Baby.”

You hummed, your hands rubbing up and down his back, your fingertips grazing his skin with the softest caress you could muster.

“Can I eat you out?”

“What?” You pulled away to look San in the eyes, only to find him avoiding your gaze.

“I’m serious, I know you didn’t get to… finish and I don’t really care that you know…”

You shook your head, moving to get off him to lay down. The feeling of his cock instantly slipping out of you having your pussy clench. You were stuffed full of him seed, not realizing how much he’d actually came until it began to dribble down the insides of your thighs.

You settled on your back, eyes shut from shyness.

“Fuck,” You heard San whisper as he turned his body to get a better view at you. His hands grabbed at your knees pushing them forward to your chest.

“Hold them for me.”

“No way…”

“What?”

“I still can’t believe you’re this nasty, San. Are you sure you haven’t been jukin’ me this whole time?” You let out a breathy laugh, your pussy clenching again as San’s hands massaged the back of your thighs before dragging them closer to your pussy.

He laughed with you, his pointer fingers spreading your lips open. You couldn’t help but moan, feeling his seed dribble down.

“Say you want it,” San said, pausing his movements.

“What?”

“Say you want it- tell me how bad you want it,” San’s eyes stayed focused on the way you kept clenching around nothing.

This was definitely new, San never feigned feeling some type of way about always falling into a more submissive role during your previous intimate times together. You could confidently say this was a type of reassurance he wanted. You felt yourself gulp, eyes screwing shut once again.

“Want it…” You mumbled. Before you even had the chance to repeat yourself louder, you felt a sharp sting on your inner thigh which ignited a surprised yelp from you. You hadn’t expected the palm of his hand to meet so harshly with your skin.

“Sorry I-”

“It’s okay, San. I promise it’s okay- God, please do that again, want it so bad. Want you so fucking bad, please. Just fucking do something.”

San couldn’t understand what he was feeling, seeing your fucked out face, squirming and moaning for him to touch you. It was always him that was left to this role, and don’t get him wrong- he definitely enjoyed it. You made him feel safe and comforted, but prior to this trip when he had wondered about your previous partners and finally losing his virginity to you… he really couldn’t help but wonder how he could make you feel that same safe feeling during sex that you never failed to make him feel.

He wanted you to crave him the same way he craved you.

He quickly maneuvered himself to be eye level with your core and wasted no time in wrapping his lips around you. His tongue poked and prodded at your hole, tasting himself on his lips. He pressed his palms down into your thighs trying to spread you out the best he could as he continued to suck and lick at your most sensitive parts.

“Wait, oh fuck- Don’t stop.” You threw your head back into the mattress, you could feel your clit throbbing as you tried bucking your hips up into San’s mouth.

“Right there, you’re doing so good, baby. Right there- fuck-”

San felt his chest grow in pride, continuing to lick and prod at your clit. His tongue swirled around the overstimulated bud, he could feel your legs switching between relaxed and tensed. He pressed his tongue flat against your core, letting you grind against his face. He was determined to make you cum without his fingers.

“Oh my god- I’m gonna- Shit, I’m coming baby, I’m coming, ooh my god,” You let out a long whine, trying to shut your legs around San’s head but with no prevail.

It happened suddenly, your orgasm crashing down and in a blink of an eye you felt one of your things being pressed open while you felt fingers enter you.

“Wha-”

“Gimme one last one, I know you can.”

Somehow San had moved to be parallel from your laying body, hovering above you as best as he could while his fingers drilled into you tight cunt.

His eyes focused on your face, the way you struggled to keep your eyes open and your eyebrows were pursed forward. There was no real rhythm to his fingers, part of him had only vaguely remembered how people fingered each other in videos. And even he knew those weren’t good examples to go off of.

“Come on, baby. I know you can cum for me one more time.”

Your mouth fell open in a silent moan, and suddenly all you could feel was San in every one of your senses. His smell, his body heat, his presence, his gaze on you… he was clouding every bit of your mental. The knot if your stomach was ready to snap, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to try and tell San that he was hitting that sweet spot. Could he even tell? You didn’t think so, but you could tell this orgasm was going to be different from all your prev-

“Look at you, holy fuck-” San began rubbing your clit quickly. “Baby, you’re fucking squirting for me.”

Your ears were ringing, and truthfully you could barely hear what San was saying. Your mind was entirely clouded, and you didn’t even have the strength to respond. Your body shuddered, and all you could muster up was weakly wrapping your arms around San and pulling him down on top of you.

“Hey, you okay?” San’s voice never failed to show his concern as he tried turning in your grasp to get a look at you.

You weakly hummed in response before speaking, trying to wrap your arms more comfortably around him.

“Feels like… feels like I’m on a cloud. Don’t want you to leave me, feels good. Here- Feels good you’re here. With me.” You rambled, fighting to keep your eyes open.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby.” San whispered, softly kissing the first piece of skin his lips could reach. He moved one of his hands to rest at your side, caressing his thumb back and forth lightly.

“Was it too much? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-” San mumbled into your skin.

“Shh.” San looked up at your face expectantly.

“I like this side of you, too, it was perfect, Sannie.”

He smiled, leaning back down to give you a swift kiss.

“You did good for me, by the way. And of course, always an overachiever…” There was a tilt to San’s voice as he spoke.

“Me? That’s definitely you, I was fine with not finishing after you came.”

“Oh really? Well, I wasn’t,” he playfully retorted.

“And this is why you’re mine, because you treat me so well,” you smiled, eyes still shut.

“And on that note, lemme get you cleaned up.”

“I don’t wanna take another shower right now, can we at least nap for a little before we do? I genuinely can’t feel my legs, I think.”

“Fine, but I’m setting a timer for an hour. At least go pee.” San got up, his bare body facing away from you as he reached into one of his bags that was placed on one of the chairs in the corner of them. He walked back towards you, opening a package of wipes, gently wiping at the insides of your thighs as best as he could. He reached down to grab hold of your hand, tugging slightly to pull you up.

“An hour…” you echoed with a slight pout, looking back at San.

“Two at most.” You felt a content smile creeping on your face.

“Hold on, I’m gonna carry you, m’kay?” He reached hold of your back, lifting you so you could wrap your legs around his torso as he walked to the bathroom.

He placed you on the tile floor, stepping away and shutting the door behind him.

“I’m gonna strip the bed sheets, we might have to run into town to grab some detergent to wash… Lemme know when you’re about to come out though so I can grab your robe.” San’s head peaked through the door, giving you one last smile.

“Thank you.”

And with that he closed the door behind him.

You woke up to the alarm San had set going off and feeling insanely hot, your robe was exposing your naked body underneath and your legs were tangled with San’s.

In fact, most of his body was practically smothering yours and though you loved him dearly, you needed him to get off of you to cool down.

You did your best to wiggle yourself free, but to no avail, San’s arms stayed holding you tightly.

“Why you trynna run away from me, huh?” San grumbled against your hair.

“I’m not running away, you’re literally a furnace.”

You tried kicking the blankets off with the little leg strength you had. San threw his leg over yours, pulling you as close as possible. Both of you fell into a fit of laughter, trying to squirm for freedom.

“San, let. Me. Go.” You laughed, pushing your body weight against him to free yourself from his hold.

“Never.”

“Please.”

“Nope.”

“You said we would only take a nap for two hours and then rinse off.”

“I know what I said.”

You laughed, eyebrows raised at his sudden sassiness.

“So since you know, let’s get up. You wanna run into town later, right?”

San hummed, his hand coming up from holding you to push your robe further off your back. His lips began softly kissing at your hot skin.

“Lemme have you one more time before we shower.” He grumbled, his lips now puckering to suck love bites against your shoulder. His hips pressed forward and you felt his cock begin to get hard against your lower back just above the swell of your ass.

“Seriously.” You moaned in disbelief, pushing your hips back to meet his. His teeth nipped at your skin, not hard enough to cause you any pain but enough to feel yourself getting aroused.

“I’ll make it quick, I promise.”

“Fine.” You huffed out, letting yourself relax your body into San’s, letting him touch you however he pleased.

San was right, he made it quick. He had his way with you while you guys spooned, thrusting his hips shallowly against your ass as he hit all your sweet spots. This vacation was definitely going to have both of you spent, and with San’s new found stamina, you were unsure if you were really going to be able to keep up.

It wasn’t long until you guys finally found the courage to get up and rinse off, deciding to finally make your way into town and grab a few things from the grocers.

“You said we needed detergent, yeah?” You said, pushing the cart down the aisle as San focused on items on the shelf.

“Yeah, detergent and then whatever snacks you want.”

“Snacks… okay, you want me to meet you in the frozen section?”

“That’s fine. I’mma grab some fruits and other stuff then head that way.”

You hummed, making your way to the other side of the store to select your items.

Five minutes, maybe ten at most, had passed until San finally made his way back to meet up with you. Reaching the cart, he dumped his items in.

“Ready?”

“Yeah let’s-” You stopped, eyes falling on two bottles of lube that San had thrown in with the rest of his items that consisted of sugary snacks and fruit.

“What?” He paused, waiting for you to finish. His eyes trailed down to what you were looking out before continuing, “Look you can never have too much, okay? Also, I made a promise when we first got here.”

And with that, San walked his way to the front of the store where the registers were, turning around briefly to motion you to follow before walking again.

When you guys had gotten back from the store, you both decided to put in a frozen pizza in the oven and ate quickly, finding refuge on the couch shortly after to relax. You guys had the bed sheets in the washer, currently laid up on the couch. The television played some movie that San had decided on, something about volleyball, you weren’t tracking too much to be quite frank.

You laid on top of San, feeling his heartbeat pound against your ear. His hands gently scratched against your back, as if he were to press any harder you’d break.

“Y/N?” San softly spoke, his hands stopping in place.

“Hmm..” Your eyes fought to stay open, exhaustion and content consuming your body after the day’s events.

“Everything was okay, yeah?” San’s voice trailed off, almost as if he felt embarrassed to even ask you. You knew what he was implying. You lifted your head to look him in the eyes.

“It was perfect. I’m glad you trust me, San. Seriously. And I’m so glad you let me love you the way you needed and let me show you how much I love you.”

San’s lips fell into a soft pout, he felt a lump in his throat. He didn’t say anything, instead he pulled you down for a tender kiss. It was sweet, there was no sexual intentions behind this one, just pure unadulterated love from the both of you.

“I love you, like a lot. Like for eternity, even.” San said as he pulled away from the kiss, smiling up at you.

“I love you for eternity, too.” You smiled back, giving him one last peck before laying your head back on his chest and succumbing to the sleepiness that slowly invaded your mind.

And the rest of your time on your vacation get-a-way was spent like that. Spending time with another, sharing affectionate moments and sweet words. San was true to his word, he took you on every surface in that house that he could defile you on. The kitchen counters, the table, the couch, the shower, even the stairs. He’d gone through a bottle and a half of lube since he had purchased it that first day there and you were more than sure the way he was fucking you, in all these different positions and with his stamina in mind, he was surely going to end up putting a baby in you.

One thing you had begun to realize about San though- well, a few things- was how he loved coming inside you and watching you push it out. As if he couldn’t wrap his head around that all of that seed was really his. Also that he really liked making you squirt- it wasn’t something you’d known before that you were capable of doing, so to have a guy who had very little sexual experience, make you do that, was truly mind-boggling.

After your vacation, you noticed your energy shift between each other for the better. San had passed his horny phase, and overall had just enjoyed being romantically intimate just as much as he enjoyed being sexually intimate. Not that he hadn’t been that way before, but it definitely felt more comfortable to express those sides of him naturally. You both brought out new sides of each other and to be able to express that so comfortably and safely was more than perfect.

Time had passed and yet another school year had finally come to an end, summer was approaching quickly.

“You heading back home for the summer?” San asked as you guys strolled along the trail that went through the campus park. His hands played with the ends of your hair as you walked, his eyes looking at you expectantly.

“Hmm, I thought about it, my lease ends right before summer starts so it at least gives me time to really think but, honestly I don’t wanna…”

“Come with me.”

“What?” You stopped walking, turning to look at San.

“I mean come with me for the summer. I’m going back home and we have a spare room if anything since my sister doesn’t live at the house anymore…” His voice trailed off as his hands removed themself from your hair, bringing them forward and stuffing them in his pockets.

“Well… I mean, are your parents okay with-”

“I already asked them… last month. And again last week, I didn’t tell them it was for sure though because I wasn’t sure how to bring it up to you but if you do decide to come, they’re okay with it and they’re super excited to meet you. No pressure though.” San chewed on his lower lip, avoiding your eyes.

You grabbed his wrists, taking his hands out of his pockets and bringing his hands to your lips, giving each one a soft kiss. Your eyes met his, and you found him looking back at you fondly with a faint blush creeping on his cheeks. He was trying hard to fight the smile that so desperately wanted to be on display for you and only you.

“Well, then. I would love to spend the summer with you and your family.” You pulled him forward to kiss his lips quickly, before pulling away and leading him down the trail of the park.

This upcoming summer was definitely going to be one to remember, and you were more than excited to spend it with the one you loved most.

#ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez choi san x reader #ateez choi san #choi san x reader #choi san #san smut #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #jeong yunho #kang yeosang #song mingi #jung wooyoung #choi jongho #ateez #vasco🐰

247 notes · View notes

ofstoriesandstardust · 4 months ago

Text

can't take the home out of oklahoma - i. (k.c.)

a/n: eeee! a fever dream later, i've finally cobbled together the first part of my top gun: maverick and twisters crossover fic! it's going to be lengthy so we are in for quite the ride! it's way heavier on twisters, so any non-top gun fans should have no problem reading this. future parts will deal with darker content that's only referenced right now, so that'll all be tagged and marked accordingly. for now, it's just my standard cup of angst. reblog and comments are always appreciated!!

summary: After a twisted stroke of luck, you leave behind your whole life in San Diego, California and find yourself in Oklahoma with Tyler Owens and his Tornado Wranglers.

warnings: swearing, weather inaccuracies, flashbacks, reference to past trauma, alcohol

word count: 5.7k

Your finger rubs gently over the crinkled piece of paper Jake had torn off for you, the phone number and the name Tyler Owens written in the neat penmanship the blonde prided himself on.

If you ever find yourself down South and need something, Jake had said, a bit out of breath as he’d run out of the house after you. If you need anything, call that number. They’ll help you.

The cursor blinks back up at you on the call pad, your cracked screen making a mockery of you. The chaos of the San Diego airport whirls around you, pressing in on you the longer you sit here.

You take a deep breath and press call.

His phone starts vibrating on the table and he frowns, eyebrows furrowing as the team, crowded around the table in the RV, goes quiet.

He answers, despite it being an unknown number. “Tyler Owens.”

“Hi. Uh,” A shaky breath comes from the other end of the receiver before introducing themselves to him. “Uh, Jake Seresin gave me your number. Told me to call if I needed anything.”

His gut drops at the name, a clench in his heart. “What can I do for ya?”

“Look, I’ve- I’ve had a rough week and I’m, I’m sort of finding my life upside down. And uh, I guess I’m just grasping at straws here. Jake said, he said you could help me.”

“That so? Well, I’m afraid you’re gonna have to be more specific. How can I help you? What can I do for you?”

“A- a purpose, maybe? I need a purpose, something to do. Um, I’m in San Diego right now but I need to get out of here.”

Tyler frowns, eyes flicking around at his team. They’re all curious as to what’s unfolding, and he scrubs at his forehead, knowing they’ll be upset with him for pulling the trigger on this without talking it through with them first.

But damn it, this girl sounded scared and Jake had sent her to him. Had told her he’d help her, and he would see to it that he did.

He wasn’t going to leave her behind.

“Tell you what, get yourself on a plane to Oklahoma. I’ll come get you. You can come work with me and my team.”

“You- your team?” Though she sounds hesitant, she almost sounds relieved at having some sort of direction now.

“Storm chasers. Ish. We’re doing some field research out here in Tornado Alley, but I’ve got a team, the Tornado Wranglers. And honestly, we need another set of hands out of here managing the backend of things.”

The word managing was the wrong choice as it immediately sends his team into protest. Boone stands up abruptly, Javi and Kate whispering protests to him, as Lilly starts making a face. He waves a hand, wanting them to be quiet.

The last thing he needed was for this girl to hear, to hang up, to not follow through.

“Okay.” You say, and he thinks he hears you stand up. “Okay, I’ll find the soonest flight out. Um, what kind of things do you need help with? My background- it’s not in science.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m sure we could find something around here you can help with. Research grant editing or something.”

“I’ve actually got experience with that.” You say with a choked laugh, and Tyler can feel the relief bleed through the phone. He smiles a bit, pressure easing as he does.

“Then we’ll make sure we put you to work.” There’s a beat as he hears the intercom in the airport go off in the background. “Listen, text me when your flights supposed to land. I’ll make sure I’m there to get you. We’re out in the field right now, so it may be a bit of trek out here, but I’ll make sure you get here.”

You confirm and he hangs up and his team starts yelling before the phone is even back on the table.

“We don’t need another team member man-“

“A manager? What kind of business do you take this for?”

“Are you serious? Kate and I, we’ve got the grant stuff covered-“

“This really tells us how you feel about us, Owens.”

He glances at Kate, who’s looking at him with a guarded expression he hasn’t seen since he first met her. She doesn’t excuse herself, simply pushing her way out, climbing around the back of Javi and Boone.

It would be hard to miss Tyler, the way he’s signing an autograph, cowboy hat atop his head as he leans against the truck branded with the Tornado Wranglers logo.

You stop dead, a cold feeling washing over you at the eerie reminder of the person you’d just left behind.

This Tyler Owens might be Jake Seresin’s doppelgänger, and based on what you’d seen during the flight you were beginning to suspect the only difference between them is the way they chased the adrenaline high.

During the flight, you’d bought in-flight WiFi for the first time in your life, just to learn who these people were, who you’d be spending time with. Trying to understand what you’d gotten yourself into.

Tyler perks up at the sight of you, a smile growing on his face. He holds out his hand and you take it, noting the genuine smile. You shake his hand, swallowing around the burning desire to ask the question.

“Welcome to good ol’ Oklahoma.” He welcomes. “You ready to hit the road? The team is a bit of a ways out.”

You nod as Tyler grabs your small duffel bag, throwing it in the back of the truck before you can even ask.

You climb in the front, taking note of all the gadgets the truck is equipped with. “What’s all this?” You ask, as he turns the key, pulling away from the curb. “Storm chasing stuff?”

“You could say that. The trucks decked out with all kinds of stuff.”

The radio is soft in the background as Tyler talks to you about the team, about what you’ll be doing.

As Tyler talks, as you talk, as you both think of things for you to do, you begin to lose interest in the conversation as the Oklahoma skyline begins to paint itself into a deep orange.

“Can we stop?” You ask, voice full of wonder as you peer out windshield, watching the sky transform itself.

You feel Tyler look over at you, before turning on his blinker despite the lack of cars around. The truck rolls to a stop as you dig around, pulling the disposable camera you’d bought from the bottom of your backpack. Tyler hasn’t even parked before you’re slipping out of the truck, walking around the front to take a picture of the sunset.

“I haven’t seen a sunset like this since I was a kid.” You breathe, the camera clicking as you do.

“I hear California has pretty good sunsets.” Tyler says, sticking his hands in his pockets as he stands next to you.

You shrug. “They do, but if you’re in the inner city, a lot of times the good ones are hard to catch. They’re easier to see at the beach but the marine layer blocks a lot of the good ones.” You say, turning to Tyler. “At least in my opinion. We can get back on the road now.”

He nods, eyes steadily watching you as you turn on your heel, climbing back in the truck. Tyler’s a few beats behind you, still standing in the same spot as you buckle your seatbelt.

The rest of the drive is quiet, the flow of quiet country music coming through the radio as the Oklahoma skies turns from dusk to night.

By the time you roll up to camp, it’s clear that Tyler’s team has gone to bed, save for one.

An older man perks up at the sight of you, climbing to his feet from his chair. “Ah, Tyler. Was just about to call and see where you were. This our new teammate?”

Tyler nods, introducing you to this man. You step forward taking his outstretched hand.

“Dexter.” He says, a smile on his face. “You must’ve had a long day. We’ve got some leftovers, can I get you anything? We’ve also got our extra tent set up, it’s where you’ll be sleeping.”

You glance at Tyler, although you’re not sure for what. Reassurance maybe. “I’d love some food. And a water maybe? I don’t have a water bottle with me anymore.”

It’s almost a natural instinct to wince at the thought of the loss of your emotional support water bottle that was probably laying in some crevice in the wreckage in Texas.

Dexter sets to work as Tyler settles himself in front of the fire, a beer in hand. “We’re meant to head to town tomorrow anyways. We’ll stop, get you stuff to help out with the team. Maybe some new camping gear and whatever.” He takes a sip of his beer, cringing as he does. “Just realizing you’ll probably have to sleep on the dirt; I don’t think we’ve got any extra protectors after we visited the last wreckage. We should probably get more stuff tomorrow anyway.”

“It’s no worries.” You say with a wave of your hand. “I was a Girl Scout for like, eight years, so it’s not a big deal. Won’t phase me.”

A head pops out from a tent nearby. Tyler perks up at the sight of him, as the man sticks his hands in the pockets of the zip-up he’s wearing. “You want a jacket?”

You glance down, realizing you’re shivering. “Uh, yeah, that’d be nice.”

He gives you a cautious smile before looking to Tyler. “Hey Ty, man, I’ve got an extra pullover in the back of the van, can you grab it?”

Tyler nods as the man reaches a hand out. “I’m Javi.”

You shake it, introducing yourself.

“You from around here? You don’t sound it.”

You shake your head. “San Diego, actually.”

Tyler comes back the same time Dexter comes back with your food and Dexter waits patiently as you scramble, pulling the soft material over your head.

It smells strongly of rain in a way you can’t explain. In a way, the smell brings you a sliver of comfort.

You take the food from Dexter as you do, thanking him.

“Dexter, this is incredible.” You say around the bite.

“It’s an old family recipe from down in the bayou. I’ve tweaked it so we can make it out here on the road, but it’s a crowd pleaser when I do.”

“You from New Orleans?” You ask and he nods. “My boyf- my ex boyfriend now I guess-“ You say, taking another bite in hopes to hide the awkward way you swallow around those words. “He’s from out there too.”

Dexter sighs. “I miss that place, I do. But it wasn’t easy to stay after Katrina. I lost my whole family.”

Your heart pangs, at his words, and it aches, at the thought of the person you’d left behind.

“I’m very sorry to hear that.” You say softly.

Javi clears his throat. “You need anything else?” You shake your head and he stands up again. “I really oughta get to sleep, but we’ll chat more tomorrow, yeah?”

You nod and Javi gives you another cautious smile. In your heart, you want to believe there’s maybe a little hope hidden in it too.

Dexter also bids you and Tyler goodnight, and the two of you sit there, the crackling fire filling the silence as you eat.

“Thank you Tyler.” You say softly, staring at the burning embers after you’ve finished eating.

You know you should explain to him how it all happened, how you got here, but Tyler doesn’t ask and you can’t forget the vision in your head of Steven’s cold eyes, unseeing.

“You’re giving me a second chance here, and I really do appreciate it.” You settle on instead.

He nods. “Whatever I can do to help.”

You excuse yourself, bidding the man goodnight, only to find yourself tossing and turning on the hard ground.

You thought sleep would come to you easier, with how emotional the last week has been, but everytime you close your eyes and a breeze rolls through, it all comes flooding back, the haze of freezing rain, of a rusty storm grate, a heavy body, and so much blood-

The sound of a door shutting (from the RV if you had to guess,) causes you to open your eyes, sitting up on the makeshift bed.

“I don’t want her here Tyler.” A female voice says, and you frown.

There’s a beat.

“Too bad Sapulpa, she’s staying.” Tyler responds.

“Stay here and do what?” The girl asks incredulously. “We don’t need her help. And I didn’t know you’re suddenly in the business of helping out random strangers who call you in the middle of the day-“

“This is our whole business, Kate.” He says firmly. “We help people. Strangers. That’s what we’re here to do, remember?”

“And how are you helping her?”

Tyler’s quiet for a minute again. “We’re giving her a second chance.”

“A second chance? Are you serious?” The girl, Kate, huffs.

“It wasn’t that long ago it was you who needed a second chance. We gave that to you, remember?”

Another zipper being yanked cuts off Kate’s response.

“Yo!” It’s Javi. “Can y’all argue about this tomorrow?”

You don’t hear the sound of Kate’s footsteps but you hear the slam of the RV door loud and clear.

Tyler goes through the motions, getting the camp cleaned up, before putting the fire out. And then you hear him slip into the RV and for the first time in days, in the quiet of the Oklahoma night, it feels like you can breathe.

You awake with a gasp, clawing at the blankets as if it was Jake’s flannel, holding on for dear life through the storm.

You swallow back the bile threatening to spill over and blindly climb from the nest of blankets, pulling the zipper down, and stumbling into the sun.

You swallow as someone’s head turns. It’s a girl, sat at the table the crew has set up outside. You pull yourself from the tent, unable to shake your nerves as you take in the soft baby pink hues above her in the sky.

You introduce yourself softly and she gives you a tight smile in between bites of yogurt. “Kate.”

Your heart clenches, realizing this must be the girl you’d heard last night.

It’s an awkward silence the two of you sit in, the baby pink fading from the sky as Tyler pulls himself from the RV. When she sees Tyler, she quietly excuses herself and brushes past him, floating back into the RV.

“You oughta get that screen fixed.” Tyler comments, sitting down next to you.

“Haven’t had time.” You say with a shrug as you glance at the screen on your phone. It was more shattered than it was cracked, a hazard really, but what could you do?

“I’ll take you to a place in town today that’ll replace it for cheap.” Tyler says around a bite. “Can I get you anything to eat?”

Tyler’s team appears over the next hour, and he introduces them as they do. Dexter appears from the RV first and then Dani and Lilly from the back of the van. Boone gets dragged out from the van by Lilly twenty minutes later, and Boone pulls Javi from his tent because “if I have to be awake so do you Miami.”

Kate doesn’t leave the RV for the rest of the morning.

“They don’t like me.” You say quietly, drumming your fingers on the car door as Tyler drives to the motel that evening.

“They barely know you-“

“Cut the shit Tyler, I heard Kate last night.” You say sharply, sending him a cold glare. “They don’t want me here.” You roll out your shoulders, looking back out the window. “If you want me to go back, it’s okay.”

“And send you back to god knows what?”

“I’d be fine.”

“Kid, you sounded so damn terrified on that phone — I’m not inclined to turn around and give you back to that fear.”

You swallow around a sigh, feeling Tyler watch you as he drives.

“Give me a week. Give me a week to make it work. And if you still feel like you need to go back, hell, I’ll pay for your flight.”

You look at Tyler, noting the serious look in his eyes.

“Okay. One week.”

The next week feels simultaneously long and short in the worst ways.

Short, in that it feels like your time is running out.

Long, in that there are no storms to chase, dissipating before the team ever has a chance.

Long, in that you sit around most days, doing your own research on grants and sponsors and the backgrounds of potential investors and articles on social media growth.

Long, in that you don’t really talk to any of them, except for the one time you look over at Javi’s computer, just to tell him that his sentence didn’t make any sense.

Long in that, Kate refuses to be anywhere near you and Boone ignores you and Lilly shuts you out of conversation and Javi sort of looks at you like you’re some sort of alien placed down next to them.

It’s only on the sixth day, when you’re collecting everything you’ve worked on all week to give to Tyler in the morning before he takes you back, that something happens.

The storm is too far away for them to chase it, to get any research done, but Tyler and Lilly agree that the team should head in, to be there to help out and hand out food in the aftermath.

Because, apparently, that’s what this team is known for.

You feel awkward here, watching the team spring into action. You feel out of place, not knowing what you were supposed to say or do as these people dug through the rubble of their lives.

You were supposed to help people. Tyler had said you could help people here.

The team is distracted just enough, that it’s you who catches it, not them.

The sounds of a cry, somebody softly shushing them. You round a corner, heart breaking at the sight.

There, a small little boy, maybe around the age of 8, is holding who seems to be his little sister as she cries.

The poor girl can’t be any older than 3 or 4.

“I want Mom.” She blubbers out and the boy shushes her.

“I know, sissy, we just gotta-“ The boy looks around helplessly.

“Hey.” You call out, stepping around the rubble. “Hey, do you need help?”

The boy nods. “Mom said not to move but-“

You hold your hands out. “Stay where you are, okay? I’ll come get you and your sister alright?”

The boy nods, clinging to his sister’s hand. You make your way through the rubble, kicking things out of the way to make a path back before finally reaching the two kids. You kneel down best as you can, leveling yourself to them as you introduce yourself.

“I’m here to help. Can you tell me your name?”

“I’m Jack.” The boy says. “This is Bella. She’s bleeding and I can’t find my Mom-“

“Hey, hey.” You soothe. “We’ll get you guys some help and get you out of here, okay? We’ll find your Mom.” You look at Bella. “Bella? Are you okay if I carry you? I’m going to help you find someone to patch that cut up, okay?” Bella nods and Jack lets her go as you scoop her up. You hold out your hand for Jack as the two of you navigate your way out.

As you weave your way through people, you ask Jack soft questions about himself, where he goes to school, if he likes dinosaurs or trucks, distracting him as he talks to you. Once you get the two kids to the EMTs, you duck around the side, in search of someone from your team.

“Kate.” You call, as she’s sifting through rubble, calling for a dog. She glances over at you. “Hey, I’ve got two little kids here who can’t find their Mom. I’m gonna stay with them but can you let the team know? Just in case anyone sees her.”

The face Kate makes is difficult to read as she nods. You sigh, making your way back around the truck.

Bella’s all patched up and Jack is studying the logo on your shirt, lighting up when he recognizes it.

“Mom lets me watch their YouTube channel sometimes!”

You scoop Bella back up in your arms, holding a hand out for Jack to jump down as you do.

“Oh well then I’m guessing you don’t want to come see the tornado-proof truck?”

It’s late in the day when Bella and Jack’s Mom comes running down the street, hysterical. Tyler and Kate aren’t far behind her.

Her arm is in a sling and there’s a few bumps and bruises on her, but otherwise she’s fine. Both of the kids light up at the sight of their Mom, and she’s tearful, thanking you over and over for helping them, for watching over her babies.

You wave her off, citing babysitting as just another thing you’re used to, a big family and all that.

It’s as they’re walking away, Dexter asking if you want any food, Jack shouts out.

They turn back, Bella running back to you with the stuffed animal she’d been holding in hand. You kneel down as she holds it out for you to take, heart aching as you look at the stuffed pig.

Bella had seen it atop your stuff when you’d taken them in the RV and had been holding it ever since.

It was one of the few things you had of your life left behind but you know when it’s time to let something go.

“You keep it okay?” You say softly. “You take care of yourself little Bella?” She wraps her arms around your neck, the stuffie clutched between her little fingers. You return the hug, exhaling as you do. Bella lets you go, returning to her Mom and her brother and you stand back up, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand.

“Do you want some food? You’ve been with those kids all day.” Dani says softly, holding the box.

“How’d you find Mom?” You ask quietly, crossing your arms.

Tyler sighs. “Was sitting with her the whole afternoon when Kate came down the street, hearing her talk about her missing kids. Kate connected the dots.”

Your arms wrap around yourself tighter. “Kate, I told you I was with those kids. I told you to tell the team in case anybody found Mom.”

Kate opens her mouth but no words come out as Lilly’s eyes slide between the two of you.

“Here.” Lilly says gently as she holds the box out, taking it from Dani. “You should eat. Been a long day.”

“I’m not hungry.” You say. “I’m gonna get in the truck, let me know when we’re leaving.”

You sling your backpack over your shoulder, the truck door shutting behind you as you walk up the motel steps.

The backpack, downsized from your duffel bag as Tyler had gone through the Oklahoma necessities with you, which was hardly anything you owned, feels heavy as you do.

“Hey.” Kate’s voice calls out. “That was a really nice thing you did for that little girl.”

Tears sting at your eyes as you push the key into the lock, pressing against the door with your body weight to get the door to unstick.

You think Tyler says something as you shut the door but under the hot water of the shower rushing down you, you can’t hear anything else.

You clear your throat, announcing your presence as you do. Tyler and Kate pause in their conversation as they look over to you.

You set the folder down in front of Tyler, Javi’s pullover in front of Kate.

“Just wanted to give these to you. Tyler, do you want me to just wait in the truck?”

Tyler peeks at the folder as Kate asks “Wait for what?”

“What is all of this?” Tyler asks, flipping through the pages.

“Research on potential investors and their backgrounds. Just so you guys don’t get into another StormPar situation. There’s some stuff about grants, donors in there. Other stuff I tracked down about how you could grow your social media, ideas I had. There might be a couple of pages about laws on people donating, not sure. It’s everything I’ve done this week. Y’all don’t have to use it but I just thought it might be helpful as lead points.”

“This is- this is really great stuff.” Tyler remarks. “It’s gonna be a real loss to not have your brain on our team.”

“Wait - are you leaving?” Kate asks, eyes flying between you and Tyler.

“I’ll meet you at the truck.” You say, turning to leave. You think you hear Kate repeat the question to Tyler, but you shut the door to the RV before you can hear their conversation further. Across the parking lot, Javi calls out, but you wave him off as you climb into the passenger seat of Tyler’s truck.

Your heart feels heavy as you look at your own Javy’s contact.

It would be so easy to pick up the phone, to tell him you made a mistake, to beg him to let you come home.

He would too, and he would pick you up from the airport, and he’d wash the Oklahoma from your skin, and he’d hold you through the loss.

But then you remember Jake’s defeated look as the two of you had assessed the damage, the way he’d asked you to lie.

You remember the blood-

A startled gasp leaves you as someone knocks on the window.

It’s Kate.

You roll down the window.

“You’re leaving?”

You eye her, unsure why she appears to be almost nervous, fingernails digging into the soft flesh of her arms.

“Yeah?”

“Why?”

You shrug, surveying the team in the parking lot. “It just didn’t work out. I didn’t fit here.”

“But-“ She worries her bottom lip. “Where will you go?”

“I’ll figure it out.” You say simply.

You’d have to because you knew the alternative would be devastating to everyone you’d ever known.

She sighs, eyes flickering to Tyler, who’s moving closer. “Well, we’re headed to my Mom’s tonight. You should stay one more night. You’ve never even had real Oklahoma barbecue.”

A dry laugh escapes you without your permission. “Kate, what are you playing at here?”

She seems shocked, not expecting your question. “What do you mean?”

You roll your eyes, huffing. “Kate, c’mon, you told Tyler you didn’t want me here.”

Her face drops as her arms fall by her sides. “You heard that?” She says quietly.

“Yeah.”

She licks her lips. “Look, I ain’t good with new people. I’m- It’s a me thing.” She looks down, scuffing her boot on the ground. “It’s my problem and I misjudged you. I’m sorry. Give me another night to show you how it could be.”

“Why the hell would I stay to see how it could be when I know at this moment I’m not wanted here?”

“I do.” She says softly. “Want you here. I was wrong and I’m sorry.”

You let out breath through your nose, meeting Tyler’s eyes through the windshield.

You think of Dexter’s food, Javi’s pullover, Dani and Lilly’s gentle insistence you feed yourself last night.

You think of the Louisiana area code sitting open on your phone right now.

“One night, Kate.”

“I sure am sorry you’ll have to sleep on the floor. I just wasn’t expecting an extra person from the crew but we can make sure you have somewhere to sleep tomorrow night-“

You cut her off, holding your hands out for the dishes from dinner. “That’s very kind of you Ms. Cooper, but I’m just fine sleeping on the floor.”

“Please, I keep telling you to just call me Cathy and, well, you could stay in Kate’s bed?” Cathy offers as you take the plates from her.

“Think you’d find my throat slit tomorrow.” You mutter and Tyler barks out a laugh.

“You deserved that one Kate.”

Cathy turns to her daughter, a look on her face. “What did you do?”

Kate pulls a face, holding her hands out. “What- Nothing, Mom!”

Cathy hums, eyebrows furrowing but you cut them off. “The floor is just fine, Ms. Cooper. Um, do you mind pointing me in the direction of the bathroom so I could change?”

“Do Tyler and Kate have a thing?” You ask, taking a sip of the hot chocolate Lilly had made as Javi chuckles next to you.

You’re watching the group fight over Uno, you and Javi sat in front of a puzzle.

“They did at one point. When they first met, but they burned out pretty fast. Figured out they were better off as friends.” You hum and Javi’s grin grows. “Why, you thinking you want to start something up with Owens?”

You blanch and shake your head. “No, I think I’ve more than had my fill on macho thrill seekers for this lifetime.”

Javi lets out a laugh, a real one, for the first time all week. You smile, thinking of how Tyler would fit in with those pilots like he’d always belonged there.

You were all set on those types.

Kate though…

If Kate hadn’t been so cold to you, Kate would’ve been the type of girl you could see yourself falling for.

Witty, bright, a soft smile always worn on her face. She’s at ease here and it makes your heart hurt to see. You want to someday be as at ease as she looks, wedged in between Boone and Dexter, the brightest smile you’ve seen from her on her face.

“So how the hell does a city girl like you find herself in Oklahoma?”

You slide a puzzle piece into place. “I don’t, I don’t really want to talk about it, if that’s okay.”

Javi sighs, quiet for a minute. “Look, I’m sorry we were so off-putting when you first got here. We’re a tight knit group and we’ve been through a lot together. And-“

“Javi.” You cut him off with a tight smile. “You don’t have to explain. I get it, okay? You guys aren't the first group to not want me around and you won’t be the last, alright?”

He heaves a breath, an unreadable look on his face. “Just- if anyone might understand the things you’re running from, it would be us.”

“Who says I’m running?”

Javi raises an eyebrow and you sigh, setting the pieces you’re sorting through down.

“Look, I’m not running. I’m just- I’m just trying to leave something behind.”

Javi studies you for a few minutes as you set back to work on the puzzle.

“Shame you and Kate can’t get along. You two are more alike than you think.”

You awake with a start, fingers clenching in unfamiliar fabric.

“Are you okay?” Someone asks softly and you blink, Kate coming into focus.

Right, you had- you had slept next to her last night after she’d worn you down. You couldn’t deny how nice it had sounded to sleep in a real bed.

“Fine.” You breathe, willing yourself to forget the shouts of a friend left behind.

She frowns as she pulls her pants on. “I’m, uh, sorry for waking you up. Gotta help Mom with the cows.”

You wave a hand, pulling yourself to sit up in the bed. “Want a hand?”

“Mom would kill me if I let a guest help. Why don’t you get some more sleep, okay?”

You lay back down as she quietly ducks out of the room, but you know sleep won’t come.

You’re restless so you pull yourself from the bed, padding down the staircase and sitting in one of the chairs on the porch. Tyler appears a minute later, an extra coffee mug in hand. You take it from him with a quiet thank you before the two of you start to watch Kate.

“So California, are we gonna talk about it?” Tyler asks.

You sigh as Tyler kicks his feet out. “Well, you’re gonna ask me questions I don’t want to answer and I’m gonna ask you ones you don’t want to answer, so unless you want to start copping to some things…”

Tyler shakes his head. “Won’t talk about it then, California.”

You eye him. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t call me that. Sort of hard to leave that life behind when you keep calling me that.”

“You gonna stay?” Tyler asks, looking over at you.

You shrug, finger running over the rim of the mug. “I don’t know that I should.”

“I know it’s been a rough start with them.” Tyler sighs, shoulders hiked up. “But they’re good people.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

“You’re good people too.”

“Doesn’t make me a good fit here.”

Tyler sighs. “It’s my fault, I should’ve approached it a different way. But if you leave, we’d really be missing out. You’ve got those fancy degrees and you’re smart and you’re one fucking selfless girl. We could use someone like you around.”

Kate and her Mom appear, Kate’s bright smile appearing as she pulls herself onto the railing of the porch.

“You guys hungry? I’m gonna go get started on breakfast.”

“Starved.”

“Wanna come see the barn?” Kate asks you as her Mom opens the screen door.

“Now hang on, California ain’t said if she’s staying. No reason to show her the barn if she’s gonna be leaving.”

You sigh, look down at the mug you can feel going cold. You rub your thumb over the Oklahoma written into the side as you think of Kate’s smile, of Tyler’s kindness, of Dexter’s food, of Javi’s pullover that had somehow ended back up in your bag after giving it back to Tyler and Kate yesterday.

You blink, looking back up at them. “Okay. Yeah, okay, I’ll stay."

ii.

#twisters #kate cooper #kate cooper x reader #kate cooper x female reader #top gun: maverick #twisters fic #can’t take the home out of oklahoma

179 notes · View notes

honeyhotteoks · 11 months ago

Text

this night together - in their hands (j.yh, s.mg, p.sh, c.sn)

a 'this night together' deleted scene: in their hands

summary: chapter twelve of this night together from the boys perspectives, if you haven't read that yet, go here and read that first.

warnings: every warning that applies to chapter twelve, plus a lot of violence. blood, fighting, descriptions of body parts breaking, ideations of killing, and a lot of internal panic and emotion.

notes: this deleted scene is entirely dedicated to the person who commented and said it would be interesting to see chapter twelve from the boys perspective. i've never written from their povs before, so i hope this still flows well and feels good, but i couldn't get that thought out of my mind. i pretty much wrote this in one sitting and only edited it once..... so i hope it doesn't disappoint but i really just wanted to share it with you all.

there are some things that will be covered in chapter thirteen that are getting lightly spoiled here, but for the purpose of consistency i'm going for it.

pairings: alpha!yunho x alpha!mingi x omega!reader plus alpha!san x alpha! seonghwa

genre: smut, a/b/o/omegaverse, angst, fluff, romance, polyamory

word count: 7.8k

Yunho feels the hair on the back of his neck stand up and the air around him shift just enough to make his stomach tight about three seconds before he hears your scream. He doesn’t need to think through if it’s you or someone else, he feels it in his gut like a brick and he’s scrambling to his feet so fast his brain feels sluggishly behind.

“Something’s wrong,” He manages as he starts to move, but Mingi is already gone like a flash and he follows at breakneck speed behind his best friend.

His heart feels heavy in his chest, his mouth is dry, and in the seconds it takes to run from the back office to the far studio rooms, he starts to realize that there is something very, very wrong with his omega.

Footsteps behind him don’t deter him, his eyes are steady on Mingi’s back.

“What the fuck was that?” San.

“y/n,” Seonghwa, but Yunho stops listening the minute he watches Mingi push in the door to the practice room, the sound of it as it swings back on its hinges and collides with the wall stark and sharp. They take in so many little things at once before adrenaline pumps through their brains and throws them all forwards into action.

Mingi catalogs Minseok’s hands, one sunken into the back of your hair and pulling your head to the side, the other pressing you back into the wall at your chest. His knee is pressed between your thighs and the straps of your top are roughly wrenched to the side to bear the length of your throat.

All Yunho can see is your face and everything in him is suddenly so full of cold fear. You look so blank, your body unmoving against the mirrored wall and palms upturned in submission. For a single second he thinks he’s lost you already, that the strange metallic taste in his mouth is the scent of your blood from Minseok’s successful claim and something strange and panicked bubbles out of his chest. It takes him a moment for his brain to catch up and to realize it's you, the metallic taste isn’t iron at all; it's ripe tannins, over-steeped tea, bitter and sudden and pulsating your fear and panic through the room.

Mingi moves first. “Get the fuck off her!” His hands close over Minseok’s neck and shoulder, wrenching him backwards with a curt jerk of his arms.

Your body tips sideways, but your face is still empty and Yunho’s mouth is so full of dry, acerbic chamomile and he can’t catch you, he can’t do anything. Everything goes absolutely silent in his mind.

His fist connects with Minseok’s cheek first, but it doesn’t feel good enough. Mingi hauls him back up and Yunho throws a cross hard and with sure direction and then he feels the crunch of bone under his knuckles as Minseok’s nose snaps, the blood quick as he shouts and reaches to clutch at his face.

If there’s one thing alphas typically aren’t good at it’s de-escalation, and whatever primal release of hormones his broken nose unlocked, Minseok shoves Mingi off and comes back up swinging.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Yunho narrowly misses the return shot, dipping to the side, and hands once again close down on Minseok, the combined weight of San and Seonghwa pressing him down towards the floor.

“You broke my fucking nose!” Minseok scrambles against them.

“Stay down,” San presses his knee square between Minseok’s shoulder blades and drops his weight.

“Fuck you!”

Yunho drops fast, locking his hand over the back of Minseok’s neck to press his face into the wood floor and help hold him down.

Mingi stumbles forwards after being pushed off balance, but then his eyes flick up past the scuffle and he sees you. You’re lying flat on your back on the practice room floor, eyes vacant and unfocused on the white ceiling, your leg bent in a strange position, one that can’t be comfortable but still you don’t move.

He knows it all at once.

“Oh, God,” His stomach turns as he ignores the writhing alpha on the floor and the others doing their best to pin him down so he can skid to your side and drop to his knees.

Yunho can’t see you from his vantage point, he’s holding Minseok and facing the opposite direction and that wall of the practice room doesn’t have any mirrors to guide him, “Mingi, what? What’s going on?”

“Baby,” Mingi’s so quiet as he shifts forwards, but Yunho hears it.

“Is she alright?” Yunho can’t wait, he twists around and loses his steady grip on Minseok, but he has to know, “Mingi! Seriously, is she,”

Mingi’s hands cup your cheeks, and he studies your empty expression for a moment but he doesn’t need to, “Jesus,” he manages, “he put her in subspace,”

“He did what?” Seonghwa’s voice is sharp.

“I’ll fucking kill him,” Mingi’s something else entirely when he’s angry, really and truly angry, and he has Minseok right where he wants him in a second. He cuts through the other alphas in a flash, rolling Minseok onto his back and straddling the smaller man’s hips to pin him in place. His fist has never felt as good as this moment, cracking across this coward’s teeth and splitting his skin again, and again, and again.

The sound of your whimper only makes it feel better.

Yunho suddenly and with perfect clarity knows what to do. In this moment you need him, even if you’re not in the presence of mind to ask, he knows. He looks you over fast as he slides close to you, relief flooding him when he sees the unbroken skin of your neck. He’ll process the redness later, the wet glisten of saliva over your gland, but his first conscious thought is that he’s strangely grateful for Minseok’s sadistic approach to claiming you against your will. He thought he had time to savor you, and those seconds of his carelessness saved your life.

Despite your blank eyes, tears slip from the corners and snake down into your sweat-damp hair, and Yunho watches the quiver of your lip, the way your whole body seems to tremble right from its very center despite how still you really are. He drops his head to the side and calls back to the others, “Calm down or get out of here, do you understand me? You’re scaring her,”

“Mingi,” San is wrapped around his friend’s back, trying to pull his arms into his chest, “Mingi, stop! Mingi, you’ll kill him, man, stop!”

Minseok groans, spitting blood onto the practice room floor with choke, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, fuck,”

“He,” Mingi’s voice is tight, “you saw what he did,”

Minseok whines again, “Rut, it’s my rut,”

Mingi’s nose crinkles at that and he has half a mind to keep swinging but San’s arms tighten, banded around him now and he lets him keep him still.

“I know,” San soothes, ignoring Minseok and staying focused on his friend, “but she’s safe now,”

“I,” Mingi breathes, but a voice breaks through the fray.

“I called the police!” Everyone’s heads snaps up at the sound of Dahan in the doorway, her eyes shining and terrified, “they’re on their way…. I… I’ll get an ambulance too,”

“Good,” San nods, “go wait for them out front, Dahan, tell them to hurry,”

Her sneakers squeak on the hardwood as she darts away, her cellphone pressed against her ear.

“We got him,” Seonghwa interjects, locking his hands down on one of Minseok’s arms, “San, help me get him to the office,”

Everyone hears the soft, panicked noise that bubbles from the back of your throat.

“G-go,” Mingi pushes himself back off Minseok’s hips and San finally releases his arms, “get him out of here,”

San yanks Minseok up off the floor and winds an arm under him to hold him steady, Seonghwa on the opposite side so they can drag him up the hall to the back office.

“Mingi,” Seonghwa manages, “please take care of her,”

He nods once, annoyance bristling under his skin. Of course he will, you're his omega and no one, no one will ever care for you like him and Yunho. Even if you never want to talk to him again, even if he has to watch you go and let you live your life some other way with some other alpha, somehow he knows that truth down to his very soul.

As Mingi returns to your side, Seonghwa allows his eyes to wander. He’d been trying to look anywhere else but you since he made it into the room, too afraid that he’d see the evidence of a violent claim on one of his best friends, too afraid he’d lost you. He’s never put an omega into subspace before, not even when they’ve wanted to be there, and now he doesn’t know if he’ll ever see anything but your empty eyes when he thinks of it.

The last thought he has as he rounds the corner is that the man in his arms used to be his teammate, but now he thinks he’s as good as dead.

Minseok groans between him and San and he can’t help but tighten his grip on the man just to make it hurt a little bit more.

He groans again, but this time San’s the one who stops dead, “Stop whining,” his voice is cutting, “you don’t get to complain after what you’ve done,”

A little huff of air passes through Minseok’s lips, “Some alphas you are,”

“Excuse me?” San’s fingers tighten on Minseok’s arm where he still holds him upright.

“There’s nothing wrong with taking what’s on offer,” Minseok says it like it’s obvious, “isn’t that right, Seonghwa?”

Seonghwa’s stomach goes icy and he’s not really the type to get into a physical fight, but this? This is something altogether different. He has him back up against the wall of the hallway with a sharp knee to his gut, and then his mind goes absolutely blank. He’s never felt rage like this, true and deep compelling retribution singing through his blood and he just can’t help himself.

“She’s a person,” Seonghwa lands a swift kick to the man’s ribs as he lets him drop to the floor, “and you’re a fucking waste of an alpha,”

“Hwa,” San’s voice is low and calm, but he ignores it.

Another kick, another. He feels ribs give way to make space for his rage, “Stand up if you’re such a big man,”

Minseok groans again.

“You’re alpha enough to terrify an omega,” Seonghwa spits, “come on, get up, try and terrify me,”

He’s coughing now, fingers gripping the cold hard floor beneath him, “P-please,”

“What was that?” Seonghwa lands a stiff punch to his gut.

Minseok curls in on himself with a cry, “Please, you know what, I’m sorry, I’m sorry for what I said,”

“I’d keep your mouth shut,” San again, but Seonghwa can’t conceive of where he is or what he’s doing, his eyes are so singularly focused on this man.

“It was,” Minseok coughs, blood across his lips, “the rut, I just lost it, you know how the haze is,”

“I don’t know a thing about how you are,” Seonghwa drops another punch.

“No, no!” Minseok shrieks at the sensation of another rib popping.

“Hwa,”

Minseok’s voice is getting threadier, “y/n, she,”

Seonghwa’s hand redirects, a sharp strike across his face as he descends on the man in earnest, “Keep her name out of your fucking mouth,”

He loses count of the number of punches it takes for Minseok’s jaw to pop and his eyes to roll back, and San knows he should have stopped it all sooner, but there’s a part of him that wanted to watch this man suffer too.

Seonghwa is shaking, blood spattered across his gray sweatpants, smears darting up the sleeves of his white shirt. The soft skin of his knuckles is split open and angry, and San thinks if it was possible to love someone’s hands more, he does. San curls his body around Seonghwa from behind, but unlike Mingi, Seonghwa allows his arms to be pulled in by his sometimes lover.

“Jagi,” San whispers low in his ear so only he can hear, “come back,”

Minseok is still, his eyes closed, “Sannie,” Seonghwa’s voice cracks, “w-what did I do? Is he dead?”

“No,” San squeezes him, “he’s just knocked out. An ambulance is coming, you did nothing wrong.”

“What did I do?” Seonghwa asks again, his voice small, and San knows he has to take care of things now.

San pulls Seonghwa up to stand, turning him physically away from the bloodied man on the floor, “Jagi, come away with me, alright?”

“What did I do?”

“You’re in shock,” San says softly, “but I’m here,”

“What did I do?” He repeats, empty as San steers him towards the back office. He’s never been in a fight, he’s never hurt someone like that in his life. He’s not prepared for the way that the feeling of a body under his angry hands replays on a loop in his mind, he didn’t know he was capable of things like that.

“Shh,” San bids him as he gets him directed into a seat, “I’ll be right back, baby, but I need to take care of something first.”

Seonghwa is vaguely aware of a shout from the far practice room, and down the length of the hall he finds Minseok’s body again with his eyes.

San steps cleanly into his eyeline to break his gaze, “Stay right here, just breathe.”

He manages to nod, and then San is gone and the door is shut. He wants to cry.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Tone is not something Mingi has ever enjoyed using. He’s tried it, of course, every alpha has even when they say they haven’t. It’s natural, it’s a part of growing up, he just always hated the way tone seemed to change every boy around him. Mingi remembers the first time he ever tried it, in the mirror in the emptiness of his childhood home. His voice broke a little later than the other boys around him, but when it did it dropped fast and deep in the smack center of his chest.

He remembers his middle school teacher’s eyebrows drawing high when he said hello to her the next day. He remembers how she smiled and the way she said - Maybe you’ll make a good alpha afterall.

He started to speak less and less after that. He practiced at home in the mirror just to understand the shape of his voice like that, but unlike some of the other boys who couldn’t help but torment with their tone, he knew what it could do. Yunho was the first boy he ever met that didn’t need to use it to command respect on the school yard, and when Yunho swung an arm around Mingi’s shoulders and said he was with him, he got respect too. No one asked why he was so quiet after Yunho, they finally just let him be.

Mingi hasn’t used tone since he was maybe sixteen, joking around with Yunho to make each other laugh trying to stay up late on a summer’s night. But an alpha never forgets how to do it, and Mingi just has to let it come.

He’s crouched over your prone body now, his hands holding your face steady as he tries to get your eyes to focus on his. Yunho is practically a knot of panic next to him, but he can’t focus on him when he knows he has to focus on you to pull you out from under. He doesn’t know what Minseok said to you to put you this deep into headspace, but he knows he should have killed him for it.

He watches tears track silently down your temples and over his shaking fingers as Yunho begs him, “Why isn’t this working?”

“I’m not sure,” He answers quietly, but he knows exactly why, he just doesn’t for the life of him want to do it, so he tries one more time with his normal voice, “y/n. Omega. Listen to me now,”

People respond to their designations, it’s natural, and in a state of submission like this the possibility that you’d be able to latch onto the word ‘omega’ alone is certainly possible. The noise you make is thready and tight, but at least Mingi knows he has your ear now.

“Come up now,” He repeats, “right now. Listen to me, omega,”

He might be able to get you up without using tone, but he doesn’t know for sure. You don’t make a single sound in response to his last plea, and suddenly he can’t stop it, he can’t lose this one chance of your conscious mind floating close enough to the surface.

He takes a low inhale, letting the otherworldly calm fill his chest, the familiar feeling of his alpha tone building in his lower throat and then he says it, “Don’t disobey your alpha.”

Your eyes finally flick to his, pupils dilating as you focus on Mingi’s face.

Yunho draws in a sharp breath.

Mingi remains passive, he doesn’t let himself feel the joy yet of knowing you’re okay, he has to get you there first. He needs you awake, talking, crying, screaming, anything to tell him that you’re here. He holds your eyes steady, “When you’re given a directive, you follow it.” He hates this part, the way an alpha’s bark can make an omega snap to attention, but he almost has you back. Shifting closer he levels his voice more and gives you a clear and present order, “Come. Up.”

Mingi watches your face break from cold blankness, grief and panic etched into the lines on your forehead and by your eyes, your hands reflexively jerking up to defend yourself like it was your last thought before you lost the ability.

“I’m sorry,” You choke out, and he watches you start to curl in on yourself.

He’s not thinking anymore really, he just can’t let you hide away from them, and he pulls your body up into his shaking arms, “You’re here? You’re with us?”

His name on your lips.

Your body is vibrating with panicked sobs, and he feels you claw against him like you want to crawl into his chest, pushing your body against his with desperate heaving breaths. For a moment he’s so worried that his own use of alpha tone might have hurt you more than helped you and his mind spins.

Yunho drops a heavy hand on Mingi’s thigh, a steadying comfort bringing him straight back to center.

Mingi drops his face to your hair and strokes your back, “Shh,” his body rocks naturally to soothe you, “we’ve got you, we’re right here, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,”

“She’s bleeding,” The edge in Yunho’s voice scares him, and Mingi snaps to attention.

His hands search over your body, looking for the source of pain, trying to find the problem that he can fix so you’ll just stay whole and here and with him.

“Here,” Yunho says, stopping Mingi’s frantic movements, “it’s not too bad.”

It’s not, rationally he knows that by the small amount of blood smeared across Yunho’s fingers, but Mingi’s never seen you bleed before and his stomach knots up tightly in rage.

Mingi holds you while Yunho steps in, talking you through the moment as you come back to your senses. He can barely breathe at the way your body shakes in his arms, your nails digging into his thigh where you grip him unconsciously, and he hears your fast breath and the quick step flutter of your heart, but he can’t move. His hands keep making fists, he wants so badly to stalk down the halls and find this man. Nothing he did was good enough, not now that he’s hearing you cry. You were never supposed to be afraid like this, not ever.

He comes back into his body when you pitch the contents of your stomach into the little plastic trash can that Yunho pushes into your hands, the sound of your tight wretch shocking enough to pull him back down.

He gathers your hair back, “Okay,” he tries to soothe you, “you’re okay,”

“He touched me,” You manage, and Mingi’s mind flashes with static images. His hand in your hair, on your chest, lips, tongue, teeth.

Mingi and Yunho both hold you steady while you heave again, “The things he said,”

“Shh,” Yunho tries now, “you’re safe, none of that is true.”

“He talked to me like a dog, and I couldn’t move, he told me not to move and I just let him,”

Mingi finds his voice too quickly, “No.”

The way you twitch under his hands makes him sick and he softens his voice as best he can despite the curl of anger in his belly, “He used alpha tone on you, he wanted you to stop fighting and he said it in tone until you couldn’t hear anything else.”

Yunho’s hand lays over his on your back.

“You didn’t let him do anything,” He needs you to understand.

“I’ve never,” You heave again, nothing in your body this time.

Mingi’s ears are ringing, but Yunho’s soothing you now like he’s so good at doing and you’re pushing back the plastic bin, but then you slide out of his arms and onto the wood floor and he doesn’t know if he should reach for you or not.

“I’ve never been in subspace,” He hears you say.

“You’re not there now,”

“I don’t remember, it’s so muddled, I can’t remember,”

Mingi watches you frantically check your body and he wishes he had had the foresight to fix your shirt from the way that it was pulled to the side over the cap of your shoulder because maybe you wouldn’t have had to remember that and he could have saved you this one small thing.

Yunho dips lower in front of you to meet your eyes when he says, “What can’t you remember?”

Mingi watches you reach up your hand, desperate to know. He remembers suddenly the moment in his bed all those months ago when you mistakenly thought in the haze of heat Yunho might have claimed you. Rage and sick guilt swirl in his gut and then he hears you ask it, soft and terrified, “Did he… did we?”

“No,” Yunho brings you right out of that terror spiral and back to the moment, “absolutely not.”

Mingi hates the smell of your fear and he’s learning that he hates the way you look when you’re scared. He never wants to see you like this again for as long as he lives.

“All I can smell his him,”

He has to get out of this room.

“I can’t even breathe,”

Mingi knows you need someone calm right now, someone centered and capable, but if he has to feel you shaking on his lap again he might just snap. His eyes flick to Yunho, “Take her,”

There’s a question in his friend’s eyes but Yunho’s careful not to say it out loud.

“I’m getting water,” Mingi says, and then he’s moving.

In the hall his breath comes back in heaving gulps and he nearly slips in a little pool of blood on his frantic way to the locker room.

San is up the hall, in front of the closed back office door with his cell phone tucked tightly against his ear but at the sight of Mingi he drops it immediately and presses it to his chest, “How is she?”

“Awake,” Mingi responds, “alert,”

“Herself?” San asks.

Mingi nods, “Where is he?”

He’s not sure it’s actually best for him to know that information at this time, but he had to ask anyway. San nods his head to the right towards a smaller studio space, “He’s unconscious, don’t even think about it.”

“I’m… I’m not, I,” Mingi feels dizzy, he needs to sit before gravity makes him.

“I have to,” San shakes the phone, putting it back to his ear, “she’s okay, I’m telling you, she’s okay.”

Mingi can’t be here, he can’t be anywhere. He pushes himself to the connecting hallway that leads to the locker room.

“Wooyoungie,” He hears San say from behind him, “listen to me, she’s okay, I promise you.”

Mingi cannot understand how this day went from normal, hopeful about Saturday, to catastrophically terrible in every way imaginable.

In the locker room he collapses on one of the wooden benches, his mind pulsing with questions. He needs to get back to you, but he can’t let you see him like this, he knows he’d scare you after everything you’ve just been through. He wonders if this is a panic attack.

The thought that presses into him sideways and buries deep in his brain is sickening. He left you alone with that man for three months. He was traveling, and laughing, and dancing, and eating stupid junk food thinking his biggest problem was whether or not you might be into Seonghwa. He was so selfish. He blanches when the next thought occurs to him. Have you been afraid of Seo Minseok this whole time, afraid in ways you felt you couldn’t tell them?

Mingi rips open his locker and pulls out anything he can find to muffle his bubbling voice, a sweatshirt and a towel stuffed tightly against his mouth to capture his angry scream. He has to get this out of his body, and he has to get back to you, but he’s so, so angry in a way that feels uncontrollable.

His body collides with the locker door, denting the middle inwards enough that it no longer properly latches shut, but he doesn’t care. The pain spiking up the side of his arm is good, it’s real, and it pumps his brain full of all the chemicals he needs to focus.

He puts any thought of going across the hall into the practice room where Minseok lays unconscious. He ignores the little voice that says he would be justified in finishing him off. He forces himself to think about your face, your smile when he saw you at the party for the first time in months.

He holds that image while he moves quickly, grabbing a few water bottles and turning right down the hallway towards you and away from every impulse flicking through his body. He stops short at the door when he hears Yunho’s voice, “I’d put him on the floor faster than you could blink. Mingi and I both would.”

He breathes through the spike of anger as he hears your soft voice in response. He hates that you’re still afraid, even with him here, but he knows he has to show you for you to believe it.

“You are completely safe,” Yunho says, and at this moment Mingi is so grateful for Yunho’s steadfast calm.

He takes one more deep, deep breath, and pushes through the doorway with as much softness as he can muster.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

San ignores his phone. He’s told Wooyoung everything he can about what happened and that you’re safe and now he has other problems to deal with.

As Mingi disappears into the locker rooms, Dahan races back through the hallway, her eyes darting down at the puddle of blood, “Oh, god,”

“It’s his,” San assuages her fears immediately, “are they on the way?”

“Yes, I told them to hurry,” She nods, “does he need an ambulance too?”

“The ambulance is for him,” San says, clearing his throat, “can you wait for them and show them where to come? I need to,” he jerks his head towards the back office.

“Yes, yes, of course,”

“And Dahan,” He remembers himself, “don’t go into studio two, okay?”

Her eyes flick to the door, “Is he in there?”

San nods, “He’s hurt, but still, he’s not safe to be around, okay?”

Dahan might be a beta, but he’s not taking any risks where Minseok is concerned, not after he heard the way he talked so casually about what he did to you. She nods, stepping backwards down the hall once more.

With everything taken care of, he can finally focus.

San pulls open the door to the back office and Seonghwa jumps, his eyes going from unfocused to focused in a second. “It’s only me,” San says softly, “I’m here now,”

“San,” Seonghwa’s eyes well up with tears, “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,”

San shakes his head, dropping to crouch in front of him, and he gently lays his hands on Seonghwa’s knees, “There’s nothing wrong with you at all,”

“I should be helping,” Seonghwa swallows tightly.

San shakes his head again, “Everything’s handled,” he says, brushing his hand over Seonghwa’s long black hair, “there’s nothing to do right now.”

“y/n?” Seonghwa murmurs.

“She’s awake,” San repeats Mingi’s words from a few moments ago, “alert, and she’s herself,”

“Thank god,” Seonghwa’s breath hitches, “and she’s alright? She’s not alone?”

“They’re with her,” San soothes him, cupping his cheek, “she’s right where she needs to be,”

“Good,” Seonghwa sinks back into his seat.

San lets his hand drop back to Seonghwa’s thigh, his phone once again buzzing incessantly in his pocket. He’s sure Wooyoung is frantic, but right now he needs to focus here on the man in front of him. Wooyoung will have to wait.

“Who’s calling?” Seonghwa nods towards San’s pocket.

“Woo,”

“You told him?” Seonghwa surmises.

“I thought she might need him,” San confesses softly, “I don’t know what an omega would want at a time like this… I wouldn’t know what to do,”

“You’re doing it now,” Seonghwa corrects, “you’re doing better than me,”

San squeezes Seonghwa’s knee, giving him the smallest shake of his head, he never was one to accept that kind of self deprecating talk and he’s not about to start now.

“I should,” Seonghwa starts to shift away from San and put space between them, but then he actually looks down at himself and his chest starts to pound, “oh, Jesus,”

He hadn’t properly looked, he hadn’t really taken it in until this moment. He’s never seen so much blood before, and his hands are shaking as he turns them over to see his stained palms.

“Shh,” San covers Seonghwa’s trembling hands with his own, “I’ve got you,”

“H-he’s alive, right?” Seonghwa can’t think of anything except the way Minseok’s jaw felt coming loose under his fist, “Sannie, did I kill him?”

“No, no,” San dips closer, pressing a warm kiss to Seonghwa’s forehead, “he’s fine, it looks worse than it is. You didn’t do that, you’d never do that, I know you,”

Tears pool in Seonghwa’s eyes, tracking down his cheeks quickly as he drops his head against San’s clean knuckles, “I thought about it,” his voice is tight with tears, “what does that make me?”

“Hey,” San moves in, pressing quick kisses along Seonghwa’s temple, any part of him that he can reach, “no, it makes you a person, alright? He did something awful to someone we love.” San squeezes his hands tight, “He hurt her, he could have claimed her, we all know what that means, okay? You were protecting her, you did nothing wrong,”

Seonghwa stills, letting his words sink in. He thinks about what an unwanted claim would have done to you, who you would have become.

“It wasn’t his rut either,” San leans his head against Seonghwa’s, his thumb caressing the back of his hand, “you know that’s just what these alphas say when they try to do what he did,”

“I don’t understand why he would try it here,” Seonghwa lifts up, shaking his head in disbelief.

“He thought we were all gone,” San says quietly, “I’m sure he thought y/n and maybe Dahan were the only ones working late. Yunho and Mingi had the back office door closed, I was in the gym, and you said you were leaving early. It was quiet,”

“He planned it, then,” Seonghwa’s stomach rolls.

“I think so,” San nods, “we just need the police to believe that.”

“They’re coming?” Seonghwa murmurs.

“Mhm,” San smiles, close lipped and then sighs, “jagi, I need you to do something for me,”

Seonghwa studies his face, he hasn’t heard San call him that outside of bed in so long, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

San sighs, eyes flicking away, “You know why,”

The feeling sits between them for a moment, and then Seonghwa nods, “What do you need me to do?”

“We need to get you out of these clothes,” San cups his cheek again, “and you need to wash your hands,”

“San,” Seonghwa’s jaw tightens, realizing what San is pushing him to do, “I’m not lying to the police,”

“It’s not lying,” San presses, “you’re just changing after work,”

“If I get in trouble for what I did, I’m not going to get caught lying on top of that,” Seonghwa murmurs, “I know what you’re trying to do, but think it through.”

San’s jaw tenses and relaxes and then he nods, “Alright, but I’m cleaning your cuts, and you’re not going to argue about that.”

Seonghwa smiles softly and nods, “Okay,”

San ignores the phone in his pocket again and finds the first aid kit in the cabinets, pulling out a pack of alcohol wipes and gauze. He doubles back for a water bottle and some paper towels, and then he pulls a chair close to Seonghwa to sit and take his hands back in his.

Seonghwa is quiet while San works. He uses the water and the paper towel to effectively wash the blood away from his palms and the alcohol wipes to clean the broken skin of his knuckles. He works on him quickly and quietly, and he fights the urge to kiss his broken skin when he’s finished, he’s gotten away with too much today already.

He holds Seonghwa’s hands in his, so much softer and more delicate than his. He thinks that after today he’ll have to take care to make sure he never has to use them in violence again. San thinks the next time he will do better, if Seonghwa ever has to kill, San will be the one to kill for him.

San smooths his thumbs over the backs of Seonghwa’s hands, and this time he does give into temptation. Dipping forward he presses a kiss to each of his palms.

“San,” Seonghwa’s voice is soft, “we’re alright,”

“I know,” He whispers into the soft skin of the hands he misses so deeply, hands he aches for. If anyone ever touched him the way that Minseok touched you, he can’t even conceive of what he wouldn’t do.

His phone rings again, and this time he answers it.

“Now you answer?” Wooyoung’s voice is taut, “I’m downstairs,”

“I had things to take care of,” San sighs, standing and giving Seonghwa’s hand one final squeeze.

“I’m coming up,” Wooyoung ignores his excuse, “he better be in a fucking body bag when I get there,”

The line goes dead, and San steps into the hall. He takes quick stock. Minseok is still unconscious in studio two, he can hear the tone of your voice from down the hall mixed with Yunho and Mingi’s. The slick patch of blood on the tile is gone, and San wonders if Dahan had the same idea he did about cleaning up before the police arrive.

The door to the access stairs by the elevator swings open, Wooyoung looking wild and full of panicked rage, and San dives back into the chaos. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________

For the first time in his life, Yunho wishes he wasn’t the designated driver for everything. He wishes Mingi had a license. He wishes that after the most uncomfortable and awful hospital trip of his life he could have tossed Mingi the keys and told him to drive and climbed in the backseat with you. Instead he’s stuck in the driver’s seat again, trying to focus on the road but finding himself glancing up every few seconds to check his rear view mirror just so he can see you asleep with your head in Mingi’s lap.

“Green light,” Mingi murmurs with a nod of his head, and Yunho breaks his eyes away from the mirror to watch the road again and press the gas.

“Sorry,” He manages.

“I get it,” Mingi replies, his fingers slowly brushing along your temple, “I can’t believe she’s here either.”

“Is she sleeping?” Yunho checks.

“Mhm,” Mingi nods, “she’s out,”

Yunho breathes a sigh of relief, he hated having to wake you up with Mingi every few minutes on the way to the hospital when they weren’t sure if you had a concussion or not, he’s just happy you can actually get some rest if you need it.

“Yunho,” Mingi says quietly, a question in the lilt of his voice, “what did the police want to ask you?”

“Um,” His eyes flick to the mirror and then back to the road, “they wanted to talk to the owner, but Jaemin obviously wasn’t there,”

“Right,” Mingi nods.

“I don’t know,” Yunho admits, “San gave them my name and said I could give a statement about what happened,”

“Which was?” Mingi asks.

Yunho watches your face for a moment, but it’s clear you’re still deep asleep and he shrugs, “The truth, that we heard a scream and that when we went into the room we saw him attempting to hurt her. It was clear he was trying to force a claim and that she was in subspace, and that Minseok fought us while we tried to subdue him.”

“Do you think they believe that?” Mingi murmurs.

“They have to,” Yunho won’t let that thought enter his mind, he knows what Mingi’s implying, they both heard the way your conversation with the police went at the hospital, but he can’t entertain the thought that the police would side with anyone but you.

“Do they?”

“Not tonight,” Yunho shakes his head, “not in front of her, she’s been through enough.”

Mingi stays quiet, and Yunho drives on.

When they pull into the alleyway that leads to their apartment, Yunho watches you start to stir. It’s like you have a sixth sense that the energy in the car is changing, and you make soft, sleepy noises as you come out of it.

Mingi runs a hand soothingly up and down your back, “We’re home, okay? You’re with us,”

Yunho watches the way you don’t respond. Your eyes look vacant again, unfocused and distant and when he pulls the car to a stop he watches the way you don’t wait to just step out yourself and start the familiar walk up to their front door.

He exchanges a fast look with Mingi, and they follow you at a little distance to keep the pressure off until the door’s unlocked and you’re stepping over the threshold. Everything about this is wrong. Not you back in their home, that’s never felt so right to Yunho in his life, but you look glassy and scared and he wants nothing more than to take it away.

“Hey,” He tries, waving a hand across your field of vision, “are you alright?”

Your eyes flick away from his, a pregnant pause between you before you look back up, “I’m fine, sorry, it’s just been awhile.”

He feels heat flood his cheeks, his ears warm. Of course you’re not alright, and he feels stupid and small at even asking the question. He feels foolish about every little thing until you walk down the hall and shut yourself away in the bathroom.

“I don’t know what the fuck to do,” Mingi says suddenly, running a hand through his hair before moving towards the couch, “I still want to break something.”

“I know,” Yunho nods, sitting next to him on the sofa, his knee bouncing nervously.

Mingi shoots him a glance, his eyes flicking down to his knee, and Yunho freezes. They settle into the quiet of their apartment, and they listen. Yunho expects to hear you cry, something more than just the steady spray of the shower, but he doesn’t and that scares him more than anything.

“Should we call the others?” Mingi clears his throat after a while, “Woo or,”

“Seonghwa?” Yunho finishes his thought for him and then swallows tightly, “No, I, I wouldn’t know what to say.”

“Me either,” Mingi nods.

“She wants to be here,” Yunho remembers the way you clung to his shoulders at the studio, begging for home, and maybe tomorrow you’ll regret that decision but he’s done trying to think for you.

“I know,”

“Let’s just let her be here then,” Yunho murmurs.

Yunho knows that Mingi doesn’t want to lose you just as much as he doesn’t. They agreed one night after just enough alcohol on tour how they felt, everything finally out in the open between them. They had never stopped and imagined a pack together, but they both know it feels right.

“We’re her friends,” Mingi reasons quietly.

“Friends,” Yunho nods, “and the fact that we’re both stupidly in love with her can wait,”

“Yep,” Mingi sighs, “I think we’ve gotten pretty good at that,”

Yunho huffs, a short breath of laughter through his nose and nods, “Yeah,”

The sound of the shower turning off draws both their gazes up and down the hall, and then Mingi stands, “I’m going to make up my room in case she wants it,”

Yunho watches him go. He listens to the stillness of the apartment around him.

Mingi comes back and you’re still in the bathroom. They make themselves scarce. They listen as you come out of the bathroom and go straight into Mingi’s bedroom. The door shuts tight. Yunho listens but he doesn’t hear the turn of the lock. The bed creaks, sheets rustle, and then all is quiet.

“What do we do now?” Mingi asks quietly.

Yunho’s eyes flick over the closed door down the hall, “We wait.”

Being pulled from sleep at four in the morning is never a good thing, but Yunho would put seeing you struggle through a night terror and a flash back at the absolute top of his most awful moments list. The way it took so much to get you to snap out of it and come back to them, the pile of Mingi’s bedding in the corner, the way your muscles stayed locked tight for minutes even with their arms around you.

Holding you now with Mingi he keeps thinking of the purple bruises that litter your skin from where you rubbed your glands raw. He’s a swirling mix of emotion, but the worst part of it is that there’s nothing left to do. He can’t channel it anywhere, there’s no threat except the one in your mind now, and he doesn’t know how to make that kind of threat recede.

He remembers the way you shrank back into his chest at the hospital at the glimpse of Minseok’s name on the hospital room door as you passed through to the exit. All he could do was wrap an arm around your body and try to steer you away, and he doesn’t know if that was even close to good enough.

His mind turns it all over as light starts to spread in the sky outside, and he feels the way you’re shifting in the bed getting closer and closer to sleep. He hopes you can all get a few more hours before the reality of whatever tomorrow is going to bring. Your lips move against Yunho’s chest and he doesn’t risk shifting a muscle so he can hear your quiet words in the dark. It’s faint, but he hears it when you whisper, “Don’t let me go,”

Yunho’s throat constricts, his eyes flooding with tears. He presses his eyes shut tight, trying to keep his breathing even and low so you don’t know he’s still awake. The weight of the night sinks into him, pushing against his chest and there are so many things he wants to say to you heavy on his tongue.

It doesn’t take long for your breathing to level out and your body to unspool and relax, they both feel it when you do, and Yunho takes a shaky wet breath now that he knows he can.

When he opens his eyes again it’s straight into Mingi’s and for some reason his friend’s unwavering gaze makes the tears come faster.

Mingi waits, and Yunho looks away in discomfort at the raw moment of exposure.

Quietly, and careful not to wake the woman in his arms, Mingi shifts closer to you and Yunho, his arm stretching across you both and settling on Yunho’s side.

“It’s okay,” Mingi murmurs quietly.

“How is this okay?” Yunho manages, getting his moment of overflowing emotion under control.

“She’s here,” Mingi says simply, “even if it’s just tonight,”

Yunho’s arms tighten around your sleeping form and he nods, “She’s here,”

Mingi presses a kiss to your hair and squeezes Yunho’s side just once, “Sleep,”

“What if she has another nightmare?” Yunho murmurs.

“I’ve got her,” Mingi assures quietly, “you sleep,”

You shift between them, winding your way deeper into Yunho’s embrace, and he passes a hand up and down your back until you sigh heavily against his skin. If this is all he has, he’s going to take it. He nods to Mingi, and despite the growing light leaking in through the curtains outside, sleep pulls him under.

Mingi stays awake for as long as he can stand watching over you both, but held in their arms you barely stir. There are no nightmares, no subspace to hold you under. With the birds starting to sing, Mingi falls asleep.

He wakes to the sound of a fist on their front door and the sinking feeling that last night might have really been their last with you. He hopes to god he’s wrong. He so badly wants to be wrong.

#SO I JUST HAD TO DO IT #honeyhotteoks updates #honeyhotteoks fics #this night together fic #this night together deleted scene #ateez series #ateez fic #ateez ff #yunho fic #mingi fic #yungi fic #yunho x reader #mingi x reader #yungi x reader

567 notes · View notes

gallusrostromegalus · 1 year ago

Note

Is Tousen prescriptivist or descriptivist? As a librarian, he would certainly have strong opinions about it. For that matter, do any other characters have a notable stance on the topic?

For those of you who are not friends with linguistics nerds:

It is two truths largely universally acknowledged that 1. Words and Gramatical conventions mean specific things and 2. Language changes over time. Perscriptivisim is the perspective that WE HAVE RULES ABOUT LANGUAGE, DAMMIT. They have a point- for a lot of things we use words for like legal documents, manufacturing instructions, and medical research- Precision is KEY. But it isn't very flexible and doesn't account for some of the nuances of language. Descriptivism is a stance that is a bit more akin to your stoner buddy going "What even ARE words?". They have a point- language is, at it's core, a massive cooperative game of make-believe. But it'd not very helpful when you need to be clear about your meaning.

This can make editing... difficult.

Kaname had strong opinions on it when he was a librarian that have only gotten more insane and intense since becoming Editor-In-Chief of the Gotei-13's newspaper, but true to fashion, has managed to pick a position that pisses off everyone.

He's a Topical Perscriptivist.

There is a Meticulously updated and catalogued database of shifts in word usage, slang and novel grammatical structures. It's an incredible academic resource, and a helpful living translation document in the Gotei-13 where the last time the division policies got updated was in the Meji era. He's working on a mobile version for the newfangled 'smart' communicators. It's an incredibly useful tool!

Kaname pisses people off by using it to be a persnickety little shit about the grammatical rules of linguistic conventions invented last week.

"You know, if you want to annoy him back, you can try hosing your boss back with the constant stream of madness from the internet!" Keigo suggested to Shuuhei once. "There's a fun new term for throwing something real hard that could use an offi- You're kidding."

Shuuhei shook his head, handing the Official Conjugation of Yeet Document from the 9th division's Database of Current Linguistics to Keigo. "The Captain had this drawn up within an hour of the term hitting the 10th Division reports page. It's got a regular Perfect Tense, but Irregular and different Imperative, Continuous and Conditional tenses for maximum confusion."

"...That motherfucker." Keigo groaned, looking over the conjugation tables. "...I yeet, He yeets, we yote, I had yeeted, she had been yote, they will have been yet- Its so stupid but it makes so much intuitive sense! It's the perfect joke conjugation for a joke word!"

"That's why he's The Captain." Shuuhei nodded.

"I thought he was captain because he beat the crap out of Mugurama-san for the job? Twice?"

"Listen here you little shit-"

#AEIWAM #an elephant is warm and mushy #bleach #bleach fanfiction #kaname tosen #shuuhei hisagi #keigo asano

481 notes · View notes

tainsan · 1 year ago

Text

misfits IV (college!ateez x reader)

pairing: ot8 ateez x fem! reader

warnings: cursing, negligence, mentions of suicide, a fight between yeosang and yunho

word count: 8.5k

⇢ masterlist ⇠

previous chapter ⇠ ⇢ next chapter

⇢ taglist: @lilactangerine @plutoneu @abby-grace @sunkissed725 @lixiel0ver @acciocriativity @hyukssunflower @sunukissed @khjcoo @stopeatread @meginthebuilding27 @mychickentendou @sunnyhokyu @rxnexxi @croa-yevon @arabelleum @randomness7198 @dysftopia @lucymultistan @sookacc @starillusion13 @daceydeath @theamazinggrace-00 @smilingtokki @hasgalore @pytssamworld @just-a-really-bored-kpop-fan @satsuri3su @theonesoldtoonedirection @wooya1224 @deadpoetsandhoney @skztrophy @kunhengie @tinyelfperson @l0vetiny @simplyalfie @doggopepper @seungily @dino-teezerr @silentcry329

{if you asked to be in the taglist and dont see your name, i am incredibly sorry but your account cannot be tagged.}

--- THIS IS AN 18+ STORY MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ---

“You’re also adding the overall total to the mean, it doesn’t need to be there.” You explain to Jeongin, who immediately face plants into his palm.

“Are you serious?” He groans, understanding his amateur mistake. You recognise the frustration, relating to the problems, having them yourself in the past due to being very stressed and sleep deprived.

“Don’t worry, it happens to the best of us.”

Jeongin and you are sat side by side in the quiet solitude of the library, Jeongin finds himself engrossed in the assignment, his brow furrowed as he surveys over his mistake. The air is filled with a hushed diligence, the only sounds being the soft rustling of papers and the occasional scratch of pen against paper. The library offers a sanctuary for their focused work, providing a space free from distractions where they can dive deep into the realm of knowledge and learning. You are not too far from the spot where you tutored San and Jongho last week. Yet you decided to stay away from the particular spot, so you don’t get too distracted by the strong memories and thoughts of the two men.

“I feel like I could’ve sorted that out by myself, I’m sorry for wasting your time.” Jeongin looks extremely apologetic, and you can’t help but feel bad for him.

“It’s really okay, my morning was free anyways, and I’m always glad to help a friend.” You smile at him, his remorseful gaze melting away and being replaced by his signature eye smile.

“You better get going though, you’ve got an important date to attend to.” You wink at him, wiggling your eyebrows jokingly. Jeongin rolls his eyes before grabbing his things and bidding you a sweet goodbye. You reflect on Jeongin’s happiness, a wave of warmth and affection washes over your heart. Thoughts of your friend finding someone he truly likes, brings a genuine smile to your face. Silently hoping that this newfound relationship will last, the look on his features pure.

As the time passes by, you realise it’s time to find Jisung and attempt to explain your situation in a way that won’t freak him out too much. Grabbing your phone, you send him a text that you’re in the library, you await his presence by editing the finishing an assignment that needs to be uploaded by tomorrow.

“Girl, I haven’t heard from you in days where the fuck have you been?” Jisung’s voice speaks from behind you loudly, causing fellow library attendants to send him pointed glares. Jisung sends the look back, telling them to mind their business before bringing you into a warm hug. The two of you sit down next to each other, your assignment pushed to the side. Turning to your best friend, you give him the apologetic look you can muster.

“It’s been really crazy, I’m so sorry.” You reply, regretful for denying the events from the past few days from your best friend, knowing it would’ve been much more manageable with Jisung by your side.

“Right? Minho told me that Kim fucking Hongjoong came into your lecture and demanded you to see him?”

You grimace, remembering that day and how likely it was that the whole school is talking about you right now, “yeah that did happen?”

“Did he threaten you? Stab you? Poison you? You know he’s the leader of the group, right?”

“Yeah, a good leader too.”

“Is that seriously the only thing you got from that sentence?”

“Jisung I’m fine, he actually offered me a place to live…” your words are careful, trying to be quiet, knowing someone is probably listening to your conversation after hearing the words ‘Hongjoong’. Maybe even listening in since they saw you, knowing the attention you are receiving now is much more than usual.

“Okay what.” Jisung looks at you in disbelief, he eyes scanning yours to look for any sign of a joke, “she’s gone insane holy shit.”

“Jisung I’m not insane shut up. His mother is a real estate agent, and they pulled some strings.”

“Okay you’re telling me that the Ateez magically pulled strings for you.”

“I know it’s hard to believe but they really aren’t as bad as you think, only one of them is… questionable.”

Jisung gaze towards you softens, “I want to believe you, but I’ve seen it first-hand how rude they can be to people,”

“Maybe they are trying to change? Come on Ji, it’s me, you know damn well I’m a good judge of character.”

There is a long pause between the conversation, Jisung letting in the information you have provided him with. Jisung knows you are very good at reading people, due to past events you’ve had many situations where you don’t like a friend of his, even if they are the kindest person in the world to him. They always end up the way that you see them and warn Jisung of. At this point Jisung judges your gut feeling more than his own.

“I trust you. If you say they are nice then I will believe it. Just be careful around them, okay?”

You nod at Jisung, happy he understands. As you sit in quiet reflection, an intense sense of gratitude washes over you, directed towards your cherished best friend. With each passing thought, you are reminded of the countless moments you have shared, and the unwavering support Jisung has always offered you. He has been a pillar of strength and a constant source of comfort in your life, and you are overwhelmed with an immense feeling of thankfulness for the presence of Jisung in your life.

“So, what place did you get?” Jisung asks, curious as to where you ended up staying. You realise you never actually told him the full story. Preparing yourself for the worst, you try to find the right words to use.

“Do you promise to not freak out?” You question, your words again quiet, fearful of someone listening in to the conversation. Jisung raises an eyebrow in your direction, very intrigued as to why you would have to caution him not to freak out.

“After finding out Ateez are actually sweethearts, nothing can freak me out.”

“I’m living with them.” You deadpan, not finding any easy way to put it. Watching as Jisung’s eyes open hugely, his mouth takes in a large breath before opening. Before he can even get any words out, you cover his mouth with your hand, stopping his scream from echoing across, likely, the entire library.

“Please don’t freak out!” You exclaim, attempting to silence him as quickly as possible, hoping not to get kicked out of the library. Slowly removing your hand from his mouth, his shocked expression stays present on his face. If this were a scene from a movie, it would definitely make the two of you laugh.

“I’m not freaking out, you’re freaking out.” His voice is high pitched and out of breath, his ears not believing the absurd words exiting your mouth.

“Look I know, it’s insane, but it was my only option.”

Jisung slightly relaxes, yet his entire body is noticeably still tense and on edge.

“I’m saying this because I love you, but are you fucking stupid?” Rolling your eyes at him, you start to speak yet you get cut off, “you can’t live with eight guys.”

“That’s how it would’ve been if I moved in with you.” You retort.

“Yes, but Minho and I would be there to keep you safe if they tried anything. I don’t know your roommates; how do I trust them not to hurt you?”

“Jisung, I really appreciate that you care, but I trust them. They are too respectful to do anything. Plus, you know if they ever hurt me, I’d WWE the shit out of them.”

Jisung’s laugh is boisterous and echoes in the library, when he gets shushed by the people around him, he quickly puts his finger to his lips and shushes them back, again. Looking back at you, his eyes scan your face for any signs of discomfort. When he sees none, his body relaxes a little.

“You’d call me if anything happened, right?” Jisung questions, he moves his hand to rest on yours on top of the large oak table.

“Of course, Ji. It’s not like anyone else is on my emergency contact list.” You say joking through the bitterness evident on your voice.

“Speaking of, have you heard anything from your dad?” Jisung’s voice is soft, knowing how sensitive the subject can be for you.

“Not really, and I don’t particularly care. I did see on Facebook that he has found a new family to terrorise.”

Jisung’s eye roll is almost audible, he lets out an exasperated groan, “this guy never fails to surprise me with his bullshit.”

“You’d think he’d had enough after destroying one family.”

“Let’s not talk about it, he doesn’t deserve the attention.” A comfortable silence begins, and you feel yourself relax, Jisung continues talking when he realises, he didn’t ask a crucial question. “You do have your own room, right?”

“Yes of course. It’s a super nice room, and the bed is so big and comfortable. Plus, I have my own bathroom, so I don’t need to worry about walking in on them naked.” You reply, thinking about the amazing rest you had the previous night.

“That wouldn’t be too bad.” Jisung confesses, leaning back in his chair.

“What the fuck are you saying?” You hit Jisung’s arm, baffled by the nonsense coming out of his mouth, “weren’t you the one who was literally bashing on them earlier?”

“What? Just because I don’t especially like them, doesn’t mean they aren’t undeniably handsome and sexy as fuck.”

“Jisung shut up, you literally have a boyfriend.”

“I also have two perfectly functioning eyes, and if they are so respectful and kind maybe you should bag one,” Jisung looks over at you, a devious glint in his eyes, “or all.”

“Not a chance, Yunho fucking hates me for some reason.”

Jisung looks at you with a gobsmacked expression, “Yunho? Hate you? How can this guy hate you? You’re the sweetest person in the whole world.”

“I don’t know to be honest, Seonghwa said it was because he’s bad with new people, but I feel like there’s something more to the story.”

“Hang on we will unpack that another time. The Park Seonghwa?” Jisung questions, his eyes even wider than before. You start to wonder how wide his eyes can even go at this point.

“Yes?”

“He’s so fine holy shit. If you don’t bag him, I will.” Jisung relaxes back into his chair again.

“Again, you have a boyfriend.”

“Multiple boyfriends are a thing.” The short male jokes, wiggling his eyebrows.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m joking. I love Minho to bits, you know that.”

Laughing at Jisung whilst rolling your eyes, he gently pushes your arm, clearly wanting more details.

“So, you’re telling me you have zero feelings for any of them?” Jisung inquires, leaning closer to you, resting his chin on his hand, a questioning look on his features.

“Why are you so interested in my love life Han?”

“I’m your best friend, your love life is very interesting to me.”

Just as you're about to respond, a vibrant flash of pink captures your attention from behind Jisung, causing you to momentarily lose focus. As the source of the pink draws nearer, you realize it's Mingi approaching your table. His piercing gaze sends a chill down your spine, and you can't help but notice the awe-struck gazes of onlookers as he effortlessly navigates past numerous tables. There's an undeniable air of confidence in his stride, similar to that of a model confidently strutting down a runway, leaving you in awe of his presence.

Caught off guard by your sudden distraction, Jisung turns around, following your gaze to the approaching figure. Sensing his confusion, you instinctively reach out, placing a comforting hand on your best friend's shoulder, offering him reassurance amidst the unexpected arrival of Mingi.

“Don’t worry, he’s one of the nicer ones.” You whisper in his ear, Jisung’s tense shoulders relaxing slightly.

“So, you weren’t lying about moving in, were you?” Jisung whispers back, his eyes not leaving Mingi’s tall structure.

The tall male reaches the table you are at, you are glad that his back is faced towards all the people staring, otherwise they would see the smile that spreads across his features.

“Hey,” Mingi smiles at you, not even paying attention to the smaller man sat closer to him.

Jisung stares at Mingi, shocked to even see a smile on Mingi’s face. Eventually, Mingi looks towards Jisung, and his smile fades slightly, but doesn’t disappear. Gently nodding his head in Jisung’s direction, as if he says hello, he turns his head back to you.

At this small gesture, you are somewhat happy that they are not treating your best friend the cold way you have heard so much about. It is huge for Mingi to be nice to you, so the fact he is also being pleasant to your friend makes you feel extremely touched by the small act.

“You have anatomy soon, right?” Mingi’s deep voice questions you. You and Jisung are both surprised that the man knows what you have next.

“Yeah, I do, how did you know?”

“I’m walking in the same direction; do you want to go together?" Mingi ignores your question leaving you confused, yet you decide to pay no attention to it.

“Well, I was actually going to walk with Jisung.” You say, slightly upset for denying the pink haired man, seeing that he came all the way to find you so you could walk together.

Jisung’s eyes light up like lightbulbs as a thought enters his head, “no, she wasn’t. I was walking by myself. Goodbye you two. It was nice to meet you Mingi.” Jisung has a huge grin on his face as he grabs his bag off the floor and rushes to leave the library.

Confused out of your mind, you look towards Jisung as he leaves, with your arms signing ‘what?’. The only thing your best friend does is point towards Mingi, who still has his eyes on you, he then mouths the words ‘bag him’ before laughing and almost sprinting out of the large room. Wasn’t he the one who said he didn’t want you to be around them? ‘This guy doesn’t have enough time to be playing match maker,’ you think in your head and let out a groan.

“Is it that bad to walk with me to class?” Mingi questions, his expression sorrowful, worried from the groan that just left your lips.

Immediately, you feel bad and reassure the man in front of you, “no Mingi of course not. I was just weirded out by his actions; I’d love to walk with you.”

Instantly, the frown on his face is replaced by a relieved smile. Feeling happy you’re comfortable to walk with him, Mingi helps you pack your things into your bag and the two of you head out of the library, trying to ignore all the stares you get from the people around you. If this is what it’s like to be friends with Ateez, you might as well get used to it, even if you hate being in the spotlight.

As Mingi bids you farewell and heads off to his next class, a wave of realization washes over you. Despite living with the Ateez members, there is still so much you don't know about them. Determined to resolve this, you make a mental note to engage with them individually, realizing that one-on-one conversations might be more manageable and less overwhelming than having them all in one room together. Living under the same roof provides ample opportunities for deeper connections to form.

As the professor enters the classroom, the chatter subsides, and a hush of anticipation settles over the students. You take a seat in the back, preparing for the extended lesson that lies ahead. Thoughts of the impending dinner with the Ateez members fill your mind, stir up mixed feelings within you. It has been quite some time since you've had dinner with a larger group of people, reminiscing about the warmth and amity that accompanied those moments back in high school. The sight of them gathering around the table, like a chosen family, tugs at your heartstrings. However, the prospect of encountering Yunho once again fills you with concern. The words Seonghwa spoke about Hongjoong's "good way of disciplining" linger in your thoughts, leaving you with a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty. You contemplate the dynamics at the dinner table, resolving to find a seat away from Yunho to avoid any confrontations or discomfort.

Realizing that you've allowed your mind to wander, you refocus your attention on the lecture, determined not to miss any crucial information. The upcoming dinner remains at the back of your mind, a blend of excitement and apprehension. You reassure yourself that tonight will be an opportunity to observe and evaluate the dynamics of the group, to see how everyone interacts and finding your place. Deep down, you know that time and shared experiences will reveal more about each member's true nature, allowing you to navigate this new chapter with openness and resilience.

With renewed focus, you immerse yourself in the lecture, ready to absorb the knowledge before you and face the dinner with a mixture of curiosity and cautious optimism.

---

Frustration consumes you as you struggle to insert your key into the stubborn lock, the front door refusing to yield to your attempts. With an exasperated sigh, you lean forward, allowing the weight of your frustration to manifest as a slight bang against the door, as your head comes in contact with the white door. The lecture had ended at four, and you had planned a quick shopping trip with Jisung to grab the forgotten essentials like toothpaste and shampoo. However, fate had a different plan in mind as you unexpectedly ran into Felix near the school. Before you knew it, the three of you found yourselves lured into a charming café that Felix had discovered through the enticing realm of TikTok. Sensing the minutes slipping away, you bid your hasty goodbyes when the clock neared seven, anxious not to be tardy for your inaugural dinner together.

Fortunately, someone had left a key for you on the kitchen counter this morning, yet you are starting to think it’s not the key to the house. Maybe it was Yunho playing a trick on you, so you can’t get into the house, and you will leave him alone. Luckily for you, you happen to be pretty stubborn, and you are not going to give in to whatever this ruse is.

Pulling out your phone, you go to your contacts and push in San’s number. You think you should probably get the rest of the boys’ numbers so if you’re stuck outside at least you have more of a chance of getting inside.

The phone rings about three times before the phone picks up, and you’re surprised at how fast San picks up.

“___, hey. What’s up?” San speaks over the phone, his voice is soft, yet for some reason you can hear he has a smile on his face, perhaps he had a good day. Hearing the smile on San’s face brings a smile to your own and you frustration pointed towards the door melts away. You can hear him shuffling around in the background.

“Hey San, are you home at the moment?” You ask, putting you key back into your pocket.

“Yeah, I am. Why?” The curiosity laced in San’s words is unmissable.

“My key isn’t working for some reason, could you please open the door for me?”

“Ohhhh,” San speaks out, realising the problem, “try pulling the door towards you slightly when you turn the key.”

Reaching into your bag once again, you pull out the key and place it back in the lock. This time, gently pulling the door towards you and just like magic the lock turns fully, opening the door.

“Ah thank you San!” You exclaim as you walk inside the house and start to take off your shoes.

“No worries” a voice speaks out from in front of you. Whipping your head up, you see San leaning against the railing of the staircase with a small smile on his face. Why does he look so handsome suddenly?

“How long have you been there?” You ask, wondering if he was just passing by.

“Since the first time you tried to unlock the door.”

The disbelief washes over you as you observe the guy standing there, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he could have easily opened the door for you.

A wave of guilt surges through you, realizing that you had unfairly blamed Yunho for something that wasn't his fault. It dawns on you that perhaps it's premature to judge him as a horrible person without giving him a chance. The thought lingers in your mind, igniting a flicker of curiosity you decide maybe you should try to get to know him better before passing any final judgments.

“Why didn’t you open the door then?” You groan as you walk past him, into the kitchen where you see Jongho sat at the island, watching a video on his phone. San follows you behind, and watches as you place your bag on the island, catching Jongho’s attention.

“___,” Jongho says with a smile. You return his smile as you take a seat at the island not too far from Jongho.

“If I had opened the door for you then you would never learn how to properly open it.” San explains, his smile is still on his features, yet you can see just a hint of teasing behind it.

You feel your annoyance fade away as you realise, he has a point, still being stubborn though, you blow a raspberry at him, faking annoyance, causing a laugh to erupt from his throat.

Approaching you with a playful demeanour, San affectionately places a hand on top of your head, his touch causing a gentle ruffle of your hair. A soft smile tugs at his lips as he leans down, bringing his eyes to meet yours, and in that intimate proximity, your faces mere inches apart, he confesses, "You're cute."

The sudden admission sends a surge of warmth rushing up your neck, setting your cheeks ablaze. Overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, you instinctively break eye contact, leaning back as if to create some distance between you and the rush of emotions that swirl within you. San, now standing tall again, leans against the counter behind you, his presence a comforting anchor amidst the fluttering of your heart.

In an attempt to collect yourself, you shift your gaze towards Jongho, who observes the exchange between you and San with a knowing smile. Catching the small glare Jongho directs towards San before turning his attention to you, his smile resumes, radiating a sense of reassurance and understanding.

“How was your day?” Jongho asks, turning off his phone and placing it face down on the counter.

“It was good, I helped a friend with his project and then had an extended lecture which I am absolutely exhausted from. I also went to a really nice café with Jisung and Felix” You reply, sinking into the chair.

“Who is Felix?” San asks, curious at the unfamiliar name. His voice is a little sharp and you can’t help but wonder why.

“He’s one of Jisung’s friends, we don’t hang out that often, but it was nice to see him today.”

“Are you two close friends?” Jongho is the one who questions this time.

“Not that close, he’s more of an acquaintance to me.” I explain to the two.

They both lets out “ah’s” as they let the information process in their heads.

“You didn’t go to Wooyoung’s café?” San questions, sitting next to you, “he was working today.” San adds.

Feeling bad all of a sudden, you remember the café Wooyoung works at.

“Next time I’ll go there for sure,” you say, hoping they aren’t mad about you not going to their friend’s café.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure he doesn’t mind.” Jongho reassures you the second he sees the slightest amount of guilt on your face. Smiling at Jongho, you silently thank him for reassuring your worries.

Then, you suddenly remember the unfinished assignment essay you have yet to submit to the online drop box. Checking the time on your phone, you are relieved to see that you likely have enough time to finish it before dinner.

“Excuse me, I need to finish this essay, I will see you two later.” You explain as you grab your belongings off the island, turning to walk to your room, you take one more look at the men in the kitchen. They are both watching you as you leave, but they have smiles on their faces.

“Good luck,” Jongho says before you close the door to your room.

The next forty minutes are spent in your room, putting the final touches on your assignment, a sense of accomplishment fills the air around you. With a satisfied smile, you close your laptop, knowing that you have poured your efforts and creativity into completing the task at hand. Glancing around, you realise that dinner is still in the process of being prepared, and a surge of anticipation awakens your taste buds. The tempting aromas wafting from the kitchen ignite a hunger within you, making you eagerly await the culinary delights soon to be served. In this brief moment of transition, you revel in the satisfaction of a job well done, ready to savour the flavours that await you at the dinner table.

When Seonghwa knocks on your door to let you know that dinner is almost ready, you send a smile in his direction before getting back to your screen, only having to upload the document. As dinner gets closer, you hear more noises around the house of people entering the abode, your excitement intensifying as you hear Wooyoung’s high pitched laugh from the kitchen making you chuckle under your breath.

Just as you send in your assignment, you hear a soft knock on your door before you hear Mingi’s deep voice speak explaining dinner is ready.

You take a minute to put your laptop into your bag again and clear up your desk quickly before heading out the door and towards the living room. You pass Yunho in the kitchen who is stirring something in a pot. Walking around him quietly, strategically avoiding his gaze, you make it past the kitchen without him seeing you.

As you enter the room, you notice the group gathered around the expansive table, everyone is present except for the notably tall male figure. Finding an empty seat beside Mingi and Seonghwa, you greet everyone with a respectful hello, initiating a brief conversation with Mingi to ask about his day. The conversation flows effortlessly, yet it is cut short as your attention is swiftly diverted by the entrance of Yunho.

He is carrying plates of food. A smile tugs at your lips as the pleasant aroma wafts towards you, instantly recognizing one it as of your favourite meals. Your mouth begins to water in anticipation as you watch Yunho meticulously place the plates in front of each person around the table. However, as he reaches your spot, he strangely passes your plate and instead sets it down in front of Seonghwa, a confusing act that leaves you momentarily taken aback. With a mixture of surprise and confusion, you lock eyes with Yunho, who takes a seat directly across from you, further adding to the mystery of his actions.

“And ___’s plate, Yunho.” Hongjoong questions, his voice is strong and authoritative yet the glare that Yunho gives you shows he ignored Hongjoong completely.

“Sorry, I only made enough for eight.” Yunho glares at you, ignoring the sighs of disappointment and groans from the seven males around him.

“You can have mine,” Seonghwa begins to put his plate in front of you, yet you stop him. Smiling at him gently, you turn back to Yunho in front of you.

“Enjoy your meal, Yunho. I hope you’re happy.” You deadpan, before standing up and pacing out the room, irritated with the bullshit that Yunho is pulling. As you rise from your seat, Wooyoung makes a move to join you, concern written across his face. However, you gently halt his advance, urging him to remain seated and enjoy his meal. Seonghwa's assurance that Hongjoong would handle the situation lingers in your mind, but deep down, you harbour scepticism about Yunho's ability to change so quickly.

Despite feeling deeply disappointed by the turn of events, you gather your inner strength, resolved to confront the situation on your own terms. You remind yourself that you are capable of handling this setback, even though it casts a shadow over your anticipation for the dinner.

“Yunho what the fuck are you trying to do?” Wooyoung demands as he glares at the tall male, his disappoint and anger evident in his words, his stance defensive.

“Just eat. It’s her problem.” Yunho answers, starting to cut his food up.

----

“He didn’t make me food, on purpose, so I just walked out.” You explain the situation to Jisung over the phone.

“Now this is what I expected from an Ateez member to be honest. No hate.” Jisung groans over the phone, annoyance evident on his voice.

The enticing aroma of your favourite meal still wafts through the air, and you find yourself torn between anticipation and frustration. Yunho skilfully prepared the dish you adore, and you aren’t sure is he made the meal because he knows you like it, that would be impossible. Your irritancy intensifies as you realise this was a deliberate attempt to manipulate your emotions.

It becomes painfully clear that Yunho purposefully made the meal with the intent to excite you, using it as a weapon to push you towards the decision of moving out. The realization strikes you like a jagged bolt of lightning, igniting a mixture of anger and hurt. A part of you wants to go back into the dining room and snatch his plate from under his nose, but a stronger part of you resists, refusing to let Yunho's manipulation dictate your actions.

As soon as you entered your room, you found yourself calling your best friend, disappointed but not surprised by the actions of Yunho. Scurrying over to your bed, you rest on the edge still trying to fully process the events. Ranting to Jisung only makes you realise how annoyed you are on the tallest male.

“It’s annoying yes, but it’s manageable. If he starts squaring up on me though I will likely be very scared, bro is big.” You half joke, knowing that he likely won’t dare to start a fight with you due to Hongjoong being present. Tonight, wasn’t nice but it wasn’t like he threatened you or said particularly rude things, if it’s like this you are for sure able to manage at least until you find another place to live. Yes, this place is extremely nice and affordable but it’s not somewhere you see yourself living in for a long time.

“Have you at least eaten anything?” Jisung’s question leaves you shocked. No, you haven’t eaten anything since probably lunch. The second you think about food, your stomach emits a loud growl, leaving you to face palm. Definitely should buy some food, you think to yourself, still aggravated about missing out on the most delicious food you’ve smelt in a while.

Reassuring Jisung, then saying goodbye after about an hour of talking, you hang up the call and immediately open your fast-food app. Scanning through each restaurant you end up even more irritated seeing that there are no deals and most of the food will take at least an hour to arrive. You’re not sure you should be even buying food, seeing how posh the area is it would be a crime to even think about ordering cheap fast food. Flipping from the food application, you go to your bank account checking to see if you even have enough money to be buying a meal. Seeing the amount makes you audibly sigh, your ideas of getting food leaving your mind quicker than you can shut off your phone. Laying back on your bed, you close your eyes and take a few deep breaths, attempting to let the frustration slowly vacate your body.

‘Whatever.’ You think to yourself, you’re not eating so you might as well get ready for bed.

Walking into the bathroom and settling into your night time routine, a sense of annoyance creeping over you when you notice that your favourite moisturizer is running dangerously low. Frustration bubbles within you as you realise that you’ll soon need to replace it. You contemplate the possibility of squeezing out every last drop, hoping to prolong its usage just a little while longer. Sighing to yourself, you realise that you have to again spend money on something you would rather not. Wishing you could just ignore your need for moisturiser, you groan knowing you can’t due to having extremely dry skin in the winter and you’d prefer to not look like your skin was falling off. The moisturiser you use isn’t even that expensive, it’s just a supermarket own brand one that barely keeps your skin looking presentable, yet it’s all you can afford, you have other things you have to save your money for.

Making your way wearily back to your bed, where your phone rests on the charger, you snatch it up and settle on the edge of the mattress. With a swift search on YouTube, you strive to find the perfect video to unwind with before drifting off to sleep. Yet, as your finger taps on a selection, the video barely has a chance to begin before a soft knock reverberates from your door.

Your head whips towards the source of the sound, a realization dawning upon you that someone seeks entry. Surprise tinged with guilt washes over you as you reflect on having walked out on dinner, aware of its importance to the other person. Amidst the rapid whirl of thoughts, you question why you are shouldering the blame when it was Jeong Yunho who acted insensitively.

A flicker of panic flits through your mind, silently hoping that it's not Yunho standing on the other side of the door. Should you pretend to be asleep? No, that won't work, as they would have heard you using the bathroom. Lost in a flurry of racing thoughts, you momentarily forget that someone patiently awaits your response, mere inches away on the other side of the wall.

“Um ___? Can I come in quickly?” A deep sweet voice sounds from behind the wooden door and you immediately recognise it as Yeosang. Letting out a soft sigh of relief you answer back, letting Yeosang know it’s okay for him to open the entrance to your room.

From across the room, your gaze fixates on the door, anticipation coursing through your veins. It swings open, revealing the familiar figure of Yeosang standing hesitantly in the doorway, his presence both captivating and disarming. As your eyes slowly travel from the bottom of his body to his face, you can't help but take note of the subtle changes in his appearance. His usual jeans and hoodie are replaced by a black tank top that showcases his toned arms and snug grey sweatpants that accentuate his casual yet charming vibe. The sight of his bare arms, muscles defined and veins subtly visible, evokes a mix of admiration and intrigue within you. You find yourself captivated by the way his physique displays strength and confidence.

Caught in the act of observing him, Yeosang registers you checking him out, a blend of pride and embarrassment sweeping across his features. His cheeks dusted with a rosy hue, hints at the flattery he feels under your gaze. A contented, almost bashful smile graces his lips, revealing his genuine delight at being the centre of your attention. His usually carefully styled hair appears tousled, and you realise he must have been readying for bed.

However, your attention is abruptly drawn to the paper bag clutched in his hand, distracting your eyes away from his physique and back to his face. The red blush on his cheeks remains, giving him an endearing charm, while his eyes sparkle with a mix of excitement and nervousness. The sight of his dishevelled hair and his relaxed attire only amplifies his charm, adding a touch of effortless attractiveness to his overall appearance.

“I bought you some food. I wasn’t too sure what you’d like so I got a mixture of some things.” Yeosang explains, holding up the paper bag in his hand.

This act instantly makes your heart speed up and your chest to feel warm despite the freeing temperature of your room. This kind gesture warms your heart, and you can’t help but feel incredibly grateful to the man standing in your doorway.

Yeosang's gaze sweeps over your figure, his eyes instinctively drawn to the form-fitting pyjamas that hug your curves. A surge of satisfaction courses through him as he realizes the envy that would consume the other boys if they knew the position he is in at this very moment. Grateful for the stroke of fortune that has brought him into this position, he momentarily loses himself in a spiral of thoughts, silently expressing gratitude to whichever higher power may have orchestrated this unexpected encounter. However, his attention is abruptly redirected as your soft voice breaks through the reverie, grounding him back to the present moment.

“Yeosang, I,” you start to speak yet you can’t find the words to express your gratitude to him, you instead invite him to enter your room fully. “Please come in.” You request, smiling widely at the giddy man who is now in your bedroom.

It’s the first time Yeosang has been in your bedroom since you decorated it, finding some small posters and fairy lights to hang around your room, and some plants to place around making it feel more like home. He looks throughout the space, admiring what you’ve done to it.

“I still have some more things I need to buy before it becomes home.” You admit to the blonde male as he looks around. When he hears your statement, he looks towards you and smiles warmly.

“Here you go,” he says, handing you the bag, and stepping backwards, wanting to not bother you further and let you eat in peace. Looking down into the bag, you see a few different packages, wrapped in aluminium foil and the smell reaches your nostrils, filling them up with the most delicious savoury scent, causing your mouth to water and your stomach reminds you how hungry you actually were.

When you look back up, you see Yeosang back by the doorway, heavily debating whether he should leave or stay to make sure you finish the food, nervously shifting from one foot to the other, unsure of what to say. You smile at his actions, for a buff guy who is supposedly a ‘bad boy’, he sure is cute.

“Yeosang,” you speak out, catching his attention, he meets your eyes, and you swear you could have fainted at that moment. His gaze holds a gentle softness, yet beneath the surface, you sense a wealth of unspoken feelings concealed within the intensity of his eye contact. Words are on the tip of your tongue as you contemplate the question that weighs heavily on your mind, unsure of how to speak your thoughts.

Yeosang, sensing your hesitation and the hint of worry in your stance, takes a step closer, concern etched on his features. Something in the way you stand, lost in your thoughts while gazing at him, tells him that something might be wrong. “Are you okay?” He asks.

Before you can find the right words, however, you instinctively close the distance between you, your heart racing with anticipation. The bag of food you were holding slips from your hands, forgotten on the floor as you gently wrap your arms around him, seeking comfort in a tender embrace.

Yeosang tenses up, caught off guard by the sudden display of affection. Your abrupt departure only further fuels his uncertainty, leaving you standing a meter away, immediately apologizing for potentially crossing boundaries. “I’m sorry, I’m just extremely grateful for the food I’m so sorry for pushing your boundaries,”

But before you can utter another word, this time, Yeosang closes the distance, his hands enveloping you, drawing you closer to his chest. Your cheek presses against the warmth of his shirt, the sensation of his toned physique beneath it briefly registering in your mind. Overwhelmed by the strength and security of his hold, you find yourself tensing up this time, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected gesture. Yet, understanding his earlier hesitation from your own action, you reciprocate by wrapping your arms around his waist, surrendering to the comfort of the embrace.

Time seems to stretch as you bask in the comfort of his arms, feeling a sense of familiarity and longing that has been absent for far too long. Your light-headedness gives way to a contented sigh, revelling in the serenity given by his hug. Expecting the moment to end, you begin to pull away, only to be pulled back into his chest, your cheek colliding with his in a gentle 'oof' of surprise.

Moments blur into eternity as you remain locked in each other's arms, a silent connection between your two souls. Yeosang withdraws slightly, but his hold remains, your arms still embracing his waist, his still encircling your shoulders.

Your gazes meet once again, mere inches apart, illuminated by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Even in the dim light, you can discern the flush that colours his cheeks, an unreadable expression adorning his features. It's an unfamiliar emotion that leaps around in his eyes, neither embarrassment nor discomfort, but something entirely new, leaving you dizzy with curiosity.

For what feels like an eternity, the two of you engage in a silent exchange, locked in a gaze that renders you weak at the knees. And just when you think your heart couldn't flutter any faster, Yeosang breaks the silence with a confession that catches you off guard. His eyes remain fixed on yours, unwavering and sincere as he admits, "Your eyes are beautiful."

“Uh thank you.” You reply, cheeks growing even hotter than you thought they could go. You just know if Jisung would see you right now he would scream his lungs out.

Moving away from Yeosang, he momentarily wonders if he screwed up by saying those words, yet when he sees the sincere smile on your face, his worries melt away and he gets lost in your expression.

“Would you eat with me?” You question, hoping he will keep you company, the question of ‘did we know each other before college?’ slipping your mind completely.

---

Seated cross-legged on your bed, you relish the delicious food that Yeosang thoughtfully brought for you. Across from you, he sits on the edge of the bed, one leg tucked comfortably while the other dangles freely. His eyes never waver from you, captivated by the way you devour the meal with avid hunger, and a sense of relief washes over him. It's evident that you must have been starving, and he silently curses Yunho for denying you a proper meal earlier during the disastrous dinner. In this intimate moment, he seethes with anger at the thought of you being deprived of a simple joy you were so excited about, confirming his resolve to make up for it.

As you converse one-on-one with Yeosang, the opportunity to have a genuine heart-to-heart arises, a chance to connect without the distractions of others. The conversation flows effortlessly as you delve into the events of your day, sharing thoughts, dreams, and anything that comes to mind. It's in these moments that you notice a subtle transformation in Yeosang's demeanour. His eyes shimmer with a radiant passion whenever he talks about dance, and his voice releases a fresh energy when he discusses subjects close to his heart.

Discovering his love for reading piques your interest, knowing your mutual fondness for books. This realization sparks a lively conversation about favourite authors and cherished books. The genuine curiosity and engagement exchanged between the two of you ignites a flutter within your chest, relishing the ease with which you connect and share your passions with Yeosang.

Yeosang remains by your side until the very last piece of food disappears, his unwavering presence a testament to his attentiveness and care. Not a single crumb is left, and as you sink back into the comforting embrace of your pillows, the weight of the day begins to settle upon you. The heaviness of your eyelids is a gentle reminder that rest is calling, but before sleep claims you, you can't help but feel grateful for the precious moment spent with Yeosang.

“This is the book I was explaining earlier!” Yeosang exclaims, turning his phone to you to show the book he couldn’t remember the name of. However, when he looks up to you, he finds you snuggled into the pillow, your mouth slightly parted, eyes closed. Surprised, his eyes widen as he peers over your sleeping form. Yeosang’s heart swells, revelling in the fact that you felt comfortable enough to allow yourself to fall asleep.

Tucking you into your blanket, careful not to wake you up, he studies you once more, taking in all of your features. He notes each freckle and mole on your face, the way your eyelashes rest against the swell of your cheeks, your hair falling messily over the sheets.

Yeosang gracefully exits your room, a gentle smile adorning his face and a faint blush colouring his cheeks. The evening spent together was a significant milestone in your friendship, and he couldn't help but feel content that he had won the rock-paper-scissors with Wooyoung to order food for you. However, what catches him off guard is the sight of Yunho emerging from his own room simultaneously, intending to make a trip to the kitchen for a glass of water. In that moment, disappointment flickers across Yunho's eyes as he witnesses Yeosang leaving your room.

“Are you seriously cosying up to her?” Yunho’s voice is once again full of venom, not even realising the tone he’s using to talk to his close friend.

“I’m not having this conversation with you right now Yunho.” Exhausted by the taller male's behaviour, Yeosang attempts to walk past him, seeking to put some distance between them. However, his friend intercepts him, halting his steps and preventing him from moving forward.

“I’m being serious, how can you just let her in after everything we have been through?”

“You can’t hold this grudge up forever; she lives with us now.”

“You were the one who said, ‘we will never let outsiders in again’ what the fuck happened to that?”

“It’s ___ dude, she was never an outsider, and you know that damn well.”

“Are you seriously this desperate to get your dick wet that you’ve forgotten everything we have been through?”

“That’s not what this is about, you know that.” Yeosang pushes past Yunho and walks towards the kitchen, taking a seat down on the barstool. Yunho follows him, grabbing a glass from the designated cupboard.

“She may have saved Hwa, Yeosang, but the second she is given the opportunity to leave us she will, just like Ryu did.”

“I don’t understand why you are acting like this after everything she did to help us get back on our feet. She is nothing like her, you would know that if you gave yourself the chance to get to know ___.”

“I don’t understand why you are acting like this. This is exactly what happened with Ryu, she got close to us, just to take away everything.”

“Aren’t you tired of acting like a dickhead to everyone all the time?”

“We do this, so we don’t go through that ever again.” Yunho’s voice raises slightly, his voice starting to echo in the kitchen. “We have acted like this for years because that is the damn narrative that that bitch gave us.”

“Are you seriously telling me after all these years you aren’t tired of being this way just to avoid getting your heart broken? It’s a human thing, Yunho, we deserve love too.”

“You aren’t the one who had your entire heart ripped out of your chest.” Yunho’s voice is louder this time causing some restless heads in the house to shake awake.

“You know damn well my heart was crushed too.” This time Yeosang yells back at him, taking the tall man by surprise. Yeosang barely ever raises his voice, let alone it being directed toward someone, Yunho steps back a little. “I know what you had with her, you thought was special, but you can’t keep dwelling on it. Back when this all began, ___ was the only person willing to be kind. I know for a fact you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel even the smallest amount of love for her.” Yeosang’s voice is exasperated, begging towards his friend to stop the act he has up.

“Then what if I do love her?” Yunho’s voice cracks and Yeosang can see the tears starting to dwell in his eyes, causing him to soften slightly. Yunho continues, “there’s nothing stopping her from doing the same thing as Ryu the second Seonghwa’s dickhead of a father offers her the money to ruin us. She will leave us and our hearts, my heart will be broken again.” The tears in Yunho’s eyes fall onto the surface of the island, yet he doesn’t know whether they are from pure frustration or because the truth is starting to hit him like bricks.

“When we were KQ Fellaz, she knew we were trouble, she knew the rumours about us, she knew the danger she was putting herself in every time she stood up for us. When were all broken from the trauma and heart break she never once pressured us to talk about it, she never yelled at us when we yelled at her, she was never scared of us. Don’t tell me you don’t remember every time single fucking time she cleaned the wounds on your hands after getting in countless of unnecessary fights?” Yeosang runs his hands through his hair, frustrated by the sheer ignorance of his friend.

Yunho goes to speak but he gets cut off by Yeosang, who is half fuming half desperate. “She was kind to us without ever expecting anything in return, so stop letting your stupid prejudice against the human race blind you completely from what’s in front of you. If she was like Ryu, she would have let Seonghwa jump off that ledge.”

Yunho feels his heart drop as he remembers the sight of his older friend in such a fragile state, his only option to be to end it, him not being able to help the pain he was enduring.

“Please Yunho,” Yeosang’s voice is soft this time, nothing louder than a whisper, “just give her a chance.”

760 notes · View notes

silentscrying · 3 days ago

Text

🏀 buzzer beater | chapter ELEVEN.

nba!gojo x manager!reader

summary: you thought you'd gotten rid of arrogant NBA star satoru gojo when he left the curses after your first year in basketball management. but when your contract is up three years later, you find yourself working with him once again as the manager for the sorcerers. as you navigate playoff season alongside long-time friend ieiri shoko and the sorcerers' insufferable star player, you start to realize his sudden departure from the curses may not have been what it seemed, and maybe gojo isn't exactly the person (or player) you thought he was, either.

warnings: language, slight unwanted advances, mahito in general, fangirl todo. || sfw. 5.3k words.

THE NEXT DAY, the Curses take the series against the Foxes. It’s official: the Sorcerers-Curses rivalry will come to a head in the NBA championships, starting on Friday in San Diego.

The team went harder than ever at practice today, not only drilling but talking strategy and getting into the nitty-gritty of the psychological impact of the rivalry. Yaga knows Mei Mei and the Curses don’t go easy, or fair. They’re ready.

As you pull out the keys to your apartment, you frown at the package on your welcome mat, a weird cylindrical shape with no return address. After you make it to the kitchen, you open it and find a rolled-up sheet of glossy paper. What?

You spread it out on your countertop and see an official signed poster of Satoru, in full uniform, palming a basketball in one hand with a huge smirk on his face. With the photo’s professional editing, his eyes look even more blue than usual, and you may or may not stare at them a second too long.

“Jesus fuck,” you say.

As if on cue, your phone buzzes.

six: did you get my gift?? you: is this for target practice? how sweet six: :( you: baby six: oh it’s like that😏 you: that was an insult

When your phone goes off again after you’ve relegated the rolled-up poster to an end table, you assume it’s Satoru responding. But instead, you find a text from Geto.

suguru geto: Thought about my offer at all?

Great. He waited until the Curses made the championships and just thought he’d try again? You screenshot the text and send it to Satoru.

you: what if i turn on read receipts just for this

six: HAHAHAHA

You won’t, because you’re still planning on taking Geto by surprise on Friday when he realizes you and Satoru are actually together. Your phone rings, and your brow furrows as you realize you don’t recognize the number or the area code.

“Sorcerers management,” you greet, and a high-pitched voice comes through the speaker.

“Hi there! This is Takada with the Reggie Star Show.” You hesitate for a moment. Reggie’s show is kind of a huge deal, and Takada has become something of a personality herself, although you’ve always found her a bit over the top.

“Uh, how can I help you?” you ask finally.

“So! Reggie would love to invite Satoru Gojo onto the show before the NBA championships.” You stand stock-still in your kitchen.

What the fuck, you mouth silently to yourself. It’s not like Reggie never has athletes on the show. But only Satoru?

“Not the rest of the team?” you clarify, and Takada laughs, a high, kind of shrill sound that has you holding your phone a bit away from your ear.

“Well, you see, we’re hoping to promote the series a bit by pulling the centers from both teams! Mr. Geto has already agreed, so we’d love to interview him and Mr. Gojo together.”

Oh, Jesus.

You are 100% certain this is Mei Mei’s doing. You instinctively want to reject her now, but this isn’t really your call.

“Let me run this by Gojo and the coaches, and I can get back to you, Takada,” you say, hoping that tides her over for now.

“No problem. Thank you!” she chirps, and the line goes dead. You groan, staring at the ceiling. This is not worth the hassle. You swipe to Satoru’s contact and call him.

He picks up on the first ring.

“Miss me already?” he drawls, and you roll your eyes.

“Asshole. So, guess who just called me?”

“If you say Suguru I’m flying to San Diego early and cornering him in an alley.”

You laugh. “Okay, Jesus. No. Uh, the Reggie Star Show?”

“What?” Satoru screeches.

“They have Geto coming on before championships,” you sigh, “and they want you too. To ‘promote the series’ or whatever. Drama on screen.”

“Mei Mei’s idea?”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

“I don’t really think I have time, considering… it’s championships and we’re training every day? Yaga would be pissed, probably. Not much of a publicity guy.”

Something in your chest loosens at his words. Truthfully, you really don’t want him to go, to be in a situation where he and Geto can only verbally spar through a guise of political politeness.

“Also, I just… don’t want to?” he says. You grin.

“Good. I was hoping.”

“Aw, don’t want me to launch my television career?” You sink onto your couch as he keeps talking. “That could be a great return on investment for you, you know. You have my autograph now.”

“Shut up. And don’t tell Nobara about this. She’d be so mad at you.”

“Scaryyy,” he says, and he’s not joking. “Come over for dinner?” The change in topic has you smiling as you kick your feet up on the coffee table. “Miki and Gumi are coming. And Yuji.”

“And the dogs?”

“Am I not enough for you?” he scoffs, and you grin.

“Not even close.”

“Yes, the dogs, you heathen.”

“Wouldn’t miss it!” you say innocently, and hang up on him.

—

Tsumiki meets you at Satoru’s door with a massive grin on her face and immediately pulls you into a hug.

“Hi!” she says excitedly, ushering you inside.

“Hey, Tsumiki,” you smile, and then there’s a rapid pitter-patter of the dogs rounding the corner into the entryway, and you fall into a pile of fur and kisses. “Hi, buddies! Hi!” Shiro shoves her nose into your face and Kuro plops himself down in your lap right as Satoru rounds the corner.

“Stealing my girlfriend,” he whines.

“Dumbass,” you say, and let him help you up. He plants a kiss on the top of your head and you blush against your will.

“C’mon. Pasta’s ready.” You follow Satoru into the kitchen and find Yuji and Megumi putting plates on the small table. You raise a brow.

“Whose cooking?”

“Whose do you think?” Tsumiki asks.

“I helped!” Yuji insists, pointing to the oven. “I’m making garlic bread!”

Tsumiki pats him on the shoulder and says, “Yes, Yuji, you did a great job.”

You fire off a quick message to Yaga to confirm that it’s okay to reject Takada’s offer, and he responds within two minutes, Please do.

You step out to make the call, and when you come back into the kitchen, Yuji and Tsumiki are giggling at something.

“What are you two on about?” you ask, and Tsumiki, still snickering, hands you her phone. It’s open to a tweet of a grainy computer screenshot, and it says SOMEONE LOOK AT ME THE WAY SATORU GOJO LOOKS AT THE SORCERERS MANAGER PLS PLSPLS

That’s not even the part that gets you. First of all, it’s not from the most recent game—it’s from before you were together. You’re wearing the Limitless shirt.

Second, Kasumi retweeted it.

“Jesus,” you say, and Satoru appears at your shoulder.

“Yes?”

“Shut up.” You swat at him without looking and then pull out your phone to text Kasumi. “I need to tell her before she finds out somewhere else.”

As if on cue, your phone lights up with her name. Your first thought is that she somehow already knows and is FaceTiming you to scream at you. You swipe and her face materializes in front of you, a massive grin on her face and—has she been crying?

“Kasumi! Are you okay?”

“Yes!” she practically screams. And then she holds up her hand, and you stare for a long moment before realizing she’s wearing a ring.

“Holy shit!” you screech. “Kasumi!” The grin splits across your face, and she’s laugh-crying on the other end of the phone, and then she abruptly freezes.

And you realize Satoru’s very much visible in the frame behind you.

“Alley-oop,” she says. “You motherf—Alley. Is that—”

You can see the tips of your ears going pink in the camera in the corner of the screen. “Surprise?”

“To you, maybe!” she laughs. “Holy shit. Holy shit! This is the best day of my life.”

Muta appears beside Kasumi, squinting at the screen. “Tell me it’s because we’re getting married and not because she and Gojo finally banged.” Megumi wrinkles his nose at the other end of the table.

“Kokichi,” Kasumi scolds, but Satoru cracks up behind you and you can’t help but follow suit.

“Congrats, you guys,” you say. “I’m so happy for you. Does Akari know?”

“She’s next on the list,” Kasumi grins.

“We’ll let you go, then,” you say, and take a moment to just appreciate how fucking happy your friend looks. Her blue hair is a mess and her eyes are rimmed red, but she’s glowing. This has been a long time coming. You couldn’t be happier for her, honestly.

When she hangs up, Satoru grins and says, “Aw, basketball romance.” Then he looks pointedly at Yuji and Megumi.

“I suddenly feel like a fifth wheel,” Tsumiki announces. Then she looks at Shiro and Kuro, curled up together on the couch. “Seventh wheel?”

You plop into the chair next to Tsumiki and wrap your arm around her. “Nah, Satoru’s seventh wheeling. I’m here for you.”

She grins, and Satoru falls to his knees and dramatically fakes his own death. The dogs leap off the couch to investigate, and soon he’s laughing as Shiro slobbers all over him while Kuro decides to lay across his legs.

In truth, you don’t remember the last time you felt this content. It’s a nice feeling, warm.

And then a smell hits you, like something burning, and you furrow your brows and turn toward the kitchen. “Is something—”

“Oh my god!” Yuji screeches, practically falling out of his chair and bolting for the kitchen. “The garlic bread!”

—

The results of turning down the Reggie Star offer have, quite possibly, the funniest results of all time.

You’re curled up on Satoru’s couch two days later with your feet on his lap and Tsumiki on your other side, Megumi and Yuji sprawled with the dogs on the floor. On the TV, Todo walks on stage to a cheering studio audience and locks eyes with Takada, and you honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he just passed out right now.

“Simp,” Satoru says. You look at him incredulously. “Okay, hey, I did not say I wasn’t also.” He plants a kiss on your temple and Megumi pretends to gag.

You swear Todo literally has physical stars in his eyes when he looks at her. He shakes her hand with both of his and does a weird half-bow and says, “It’s such an honor, Ms. Ta—“

“Oh, please,” Takada giggles. “Just call me Takada.” Todo goes red again, stammering out a response.

“This is the most painful thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Megumi says. He’s only watching this because Yuji wants to.

“Mr. Aoi Todo,” Reggie Star says grandly, throwing an arm around him like they’re already best buds. “Take a seat, take a seat. Thanks again for joining us on such short notice!”

Todo takes his place on the couch while Reggie and Takada sit in opposing armchairs, the background flashing the Reggie Star Show logo as the theme music peters out. Reggie grills Todo with questions about the Samurai-Sorcerers series, playing against Yuji after playing with him in college, all the connections the team has with half of the championship bracket. And throughout, Todo just can’t tear his gaze away from Takada.

By the time it’s over you’re nearly falling off the couch, laughing yourself halfway to tears.

“Guys, it’s cute! He has a crush!” Yuji exclaims, and you all laugh harder. Tsumiki collapses into you, her hair spreading out over the fabric of the shirt you’re wearing—one of Satoru’s, blue and black and smelling like him.

After the commercial break, which consisted of an actually absurd amount of Takada promoting various useless products, Todo is nowhere to be found. Geto sits on the couch in his place with a press-worthy smile and a crisp, navy blue suit.

“And here we’ve got the starting center of one of the two NBA teams gunning for the championship title, Mr. Suguru Geto,” Reggie introduces, and the studio audience whoops and cheers as Geto waves them off, smiling modestly. You kind of want to slap him.

“Now, let’s not beat around the bush here, Suguru—you’re going up against the Sorcerers the day after tomorrow, and that means you’re coming face to face with your old teammate, Satoru ‘Six-Eyes’ Gojo.” Reggie looks pointedly out at the crowd, like they’re in on some big secret, and turns back to Geto. “How do you feel about this match-up, two starting centers with a lengthy history on the court with stakes this high?”

Geto sighs and leans forward a bit in his seat, one elbow on the armrest. “Well, Reggie, Satoru and I go back a long time.” You wrinkle your nose at the sound of his first name in Geto’s mouth. You feel weirdly defensive about it. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but we went to high school together and then college, so we’ve been playing basketball together since our early teens.”

Takada chimes in, “That’s quite the bond, going through the most formative parts of your careers together!” You can’t take her seriously, because in your head she’s still winking at the camera and waxing poetic about the merits of some new Japanese skincare line.

Reggie nods, encouraging Geto to go on. “I’ve gotta say, I am looking forward to seeing him again. He’s a hard man to get ahold of these days. It’ll be good to see him, albeit on opposite sides of the court.”

“No, it will not,” Satoru says with a false cheer in his voice, pointing a finger gun at the TV.

“And how do you think your odds are looking for this series?”

“Well,” Geto laughs, “the Sorcerers are talented, I’ll give them that. Clearly, they’ve made it this far. But I will say that the Curses are first seed with home court advantage.” He shrugs. “So do with that what you will.”

Takada glances at Reggie, as if asking permission for something, and he nods. “If I’m not mistaken, Mr. Geto, there’s another familiar face on the other side of things as well, a former manager of the Curses.”

Geto nods, a wide smile crossing his face, and you feel Satoru tense up beside you. “Oh, we miss her a lot, yes. She’s great at what she does. I keep telling her she should make her way back to San Diego if she feels so inclined.” He laughs, like this is some great ongoing joke.

“Oh, so you two still speak regularly, then?” Reggie asks, intrigued. Your jaw clenches, and Satoru’s hand encloses yours before it can become a fist.

“I just recently paid her a visit out east.” Oh my god. Oh my god.

“That fucker,” Satoru growls. Your phone buzzes with a message from Ieiri.

my wife: this little man bun bitch

my wife: what if i commit murder. what then

You’re seething, and even Tsumiki is frowning, the lines creasing her face, turning the corners of her mouth down. Paid you a visit? As if you’re friends and he came to catch up with you over coffee, not dropped in on your street in the dark to harass you about a job you don’t want?

“Well, sounds like it’ll be quite the reunion,” Reggie is saying by the time the smoke clears out of your ears enough for you to hear again.

Tsumiki reaches across you to ruffle Satoru’s hair. “He’s just trying to get under your skin. Don’t let him.”

You shoot a quick message back to Ieiri.

you: tbh i’d pay a lot of money to see y’all in a cage match

Reggie and Takada shift to broader questions about the series and you tune out most of the remainder of the segment, irritated when Geto answers one too many questions with Satoru’s name, subtly suggesting that the Sorcerers have none of the grit and discipline the Curses do.

“They’re a fun bunch,” he says at one point. “Like a barrel of monkeys. They just have a good time.” The tone is all fake, smoothed-out public relations, and it makes your blood boil. You know what he’s really implying, that it’s an insult. That the Sorcerers spend all their time hanging off hoops instead of drilling themselves into the ground. You know it’s not true. You’ve watched them work their asses off all year.

“God forbid we know how to have fun,” Satoru snorts, and you feel the tension easing from your shoulders just at the sound of his voice.

“You don’t,” you say teasingly, flipping yourself around on the couch so your head lands in his lap. “That’s entirely Kento.”

Satoru gasps and looks down at you. “You take that back. Nanami is the most unfun—“

“Not a word,” Tsumiki says helpfully.

“Everyone in this house hates me! Slander under my own roof!” He digs his fingers into your sides and starts tickling you, and you squirm out of his grasp and onto the ground, but he follows you. Soon it’s a mess of Shiro and Kuro frantically pouncing on both of you as you squeal for Satoru to let you go, and Tsumiki is definitely filming this whole thing, and it’s all so incredibly domestic and unserious and right that your heart swells in your chest.

Fuck Geto. He can’t get to you here, and he can’t take you away from the team you love.

—

Being in San Diego again is strange. The facilities are familiar, the gyms, the locker rooms, but you’re walking them a different person than you left them, experiencing the same setting in a new context that makes you feel like you’re living in one prolonged moment of déjà vu.

Nobara walks alongside you, bouncing between social media notifications and ranting about the way Geto made the Sorcerers sound on national television last night. Ieiri’s setting up in the training room down the hall, and Yaga’s pulled the guys into the locker room for a quick meeting before they launch into their last practice before the next day’s match.

You keep thinking about Yaga pulling you aside this morning, murmuring a quick warning in your ear. “If you see Mei Mei, no you don’t. Not worth the time. Just slip away.”

So far there’s been no sign of the other manager, and you’re glad for it.

Nobara’s phone starts ringing and she nods at you and peels off, pressing it to her ear and slipping deeper into the building. You lean against the wall, checking your own phone, making sure you don’t have any missed calls or emails.

The side doors open loudly, metal scraping across the floor, and you look up.

Fuck.

It seems Mei Mei doesn’t do her own damn dirty work.

“Oh, hello!” Mahito crows, making his way over to you. You didn’t like him when you worked for the Curses and you don’t like him now, his leering grin too wide for his face, hair tied into three sections behind his back. Him, you know—but you haven’t yet met the man beside him, a lanky, tall guy with oddly wide eyes and a long blond ponytail weirdly off-center on his head.

Of course, you know who he is. You’ve done your research, you’ve seen the roster. Haruta Shigemo.

“I hoped you’d be here.” Mahito comes to a stop in front of you as you push off the wall, crossing your arms.

“Mahito.” Your voice is cold, flat.

He frowns, an exaggerated, off-putting gesture. “Thought it’d be a happier reunion,” he says. He holds his arms out toward Shigemo with a flourish. “I’d like you to meet Haruta. He, ah, was something of a replacement for your Six-Eyes.”

Shigemo stares at you, unblinking, a small, close-lipped smile sending a shiver down your spine. You’re suddenly aware of how close these two men are to you, that your back is to the wall, that you’re alone in the hallway.

“Look, I really have a lot to get done—”

“Oh, we don’t mean to bother you!” Mahito laughs, high-pitched and manic. “We just wanted to welcome you back home, you know. Make sure you settled in to the old stomping grounds.” He leans in, breath smelling like some odd combination of fruity gum and stale crackers. You shudder involuntarily. “I hope you don’t take it too hard when they lose,” he whispers, too close to your face. “Should you need an out, remember we’re in your corner.”

Shigemo holds a hand up as you’re about to retort, tilting his head and studying you. “If he’s not your type,” he giggles, nodding at Mahito, “I’ve got some time on my hands tonight.”

Your face flushes deep red with anger, fists going white-knuckled at your side. “I do not need—”

“Excuse me,” says a cool, familiar voice, and the tension in your muscles goes slack as Kento comes to stand directly between you and your newfound nuisances. “I believe we’ve already taken care of any business that needed tending to before the match tomorrow, yes? Is there anything else I can help you with? We’re just about to kick off practice, and I’m afraid our time is limited.”

Mahito steps back, holding his arms up in false surrender. “Nanami! Hello!” He grins widely. “We’re representatives, of a sort. Just making sure the bunch of you are settled in.” Shigemo nods and looks Kento up and down, calculating.

“We are just fine,” he says flatly, nudging you with a hand behind his back. You nod at the two Curses players and storm down the hallway toward the gym, heart racing in your chest. Behind you, you hear Kento still talking. “Do tell Mei Mei her… thoughtfulness is noted.”

In the gym, the guys are warming up, and your eyes immediately lock on Megumi, angrily slamming an innocent basketball against the wall, over and over. Yuji dribbles between his knees without looking at his ball, watching Megumi intently.

You don’t see Satoru, and for a moment you’re worried, feeling a little off-balance, until you feel hands on your shoulders, spinning you around. “Well, hello,” he says, and you laugh, dropping your head into his chest.

“Fuck is up with Megumi?” you ask, nodding toward him, and Satoru frowns. You notice now the tension in him, the slight anger in his eyes, an energy like impatience and frustration all around his edges.

“Suguru was fucking with him. Saying shit about Tsumiki. I was dealing with him.” He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, considering as he looks over your shoulder at Yuji drawing Megumi back onto the court. “He’s such a dick.”

Kento walks in then, making his way straight over to you. “You okay?” he asks, and Satoru’s brows knit together.

“What? Why wouldn’t she—” He turns to you. “Why wouldn’t you be okay? What happened?”

“Mahito,” you say. “Shigemo, too. Fucking pricks.”

Satoru breathes in sharply, his grip on your shoulder tightening protectively. “If they put their fucking hands on you—”

“Toru,” you say, the nickname slipping out without your permission. It seems to calm him down a little, makes him look at you steadily. “Kento got them out of the way. And they won’t do anything to me. They’re just doing Mei Mei’s bidding, same as Geto, probably.” You grab his hands in yours, nodding at Kento to say you’ll be okay. He inclines his head and walks away, gathering the rest of the team in the center of the gym.

“They want to get under your skin. Don’t let them."

Your voice is steady and calm, coated with a reassurance you don’t feel. Your nerves are still on high alert, Mahito’s breathing down your neck, Shigemo’s unsettling scrutiny lingering in your mind. But you know they’re not after you. You’re a conduit for them, a way to fuck with Satoru. And you will not let them.

“Don’t let them,” he echoes, sighing, pulling you in, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“Remember, flagrantly disgusting display of public affection. Imagine their faces.”

He laughs, loud and bright, and something warm blooms in you at the sound. “God, you’re the best.”

“I know.” You pull back and shove him in the direction of the team. “Now go practice so I can watch you kick their asses.”

He grins at you, does a little half-bow, snapping back into his untouchable, unbothered self. “Anything for you.”

—

There's really no reason for you to have the clipboard in your hands. Every note you’ve taken is committed to memory. You know both team’s rosters inside and out, know every detail of the schedule, what a win or a loss means for the schedule, score projections, all of it. But you need something to do with your hands, so you hold onto it, clicking and unclicking your pen, scribbling in the margins of old brackets, trying to contain all your nervous energy into a manageable space.

And you’re not the only one overflowing with energy. The stadium is alive. The lights are bright, the crowd raucous, the massive hanging scoreboard broadcasting CHAMPIONSHIP SHOWDOWN SPONSORED BY KFC. You don’t think you could eat right now even if someone shoved a bucket of fried chicken into your hands.

“That’s just mean,” Satoru mutters under his breath, gazing up at the advertisement.

“What?”

He shakes his head. “Nothin’.”

He glances down at you and then across the court, where Geto has been tracking the two of you with searching eyes. Mei Mei hides behind a clipboard as well, though you notice her eyes flickering back and forth, studying Satoru, you, Yaga. You pointedly avoid looking at Mahito and Shigemo. Pricks.

The NBA championship series. Sorcerers versus Curses. It all comes to a head here, an endless rivalry for a championship title.

“So, I’m thinking now or never,” Satoru says, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips. When you realize what he means, it takes everything in you not to glance across the court at Geto. A smirk spreads across your face, and you grab Satoru’s jersey and pull him toward you.

“Good luck,” you say, and then you kiss him, hard and long and intentional, and you know Geto sees you.

“I think,” Satoru says, pulling back a little breathlessly, “we should do that every game.” He grins and you swat him away, making your way over to Ieiri and Nobara in the far corner, and you can’t wipe the smile from your own face. On the way there you chance a look across the court. Geto isn’t looking at you, but he’s looking at Satoru, talking lowly out of the corner of his mouth to Mei Mei.

Point for me, you think.

“You’re actually nauseating,” Nobara says when you reach her. You know she’s not serious. She knew the plan. She loved the plan.

“I’m making a point,” you say anyway. She follows your tilted head toward Geto and Mei Mei, and you watch the slow, shit-eating grin spread across her face.

“Oh, so worth it,” she murmurs.

You tug the headset on and listen to the unfamiliar announcers, wishing it was Zenin and Panda in your ears but settling for the new, faceless voices instead. They’re not the same guys who usually commentated on the home court when you worked for the Curses, and you’re oddly glad about it, that there’s not another reminder of the loaded history here right in your ears.

“Charles Bernard here with Rika Orimoto,” the new voice says, “ready to watch this long-time rivalry play out in real time.”

When she speaks up, Rika’s voice is bright and younger than you expected, animated where Bernard is entirely deadpan. Interesting partnership.

As the starters take their positions, you’re surprised to see that Satoru’s not the one taking the tip-off.

Kento is. And in front of him, eye-to-eye with a sardonic smile, is Mahito.

Ah, shit.

The ref’s expression is flat and unaffected, but his eyes dart between the two shooting guards as they face off in the center of the court. You wish you could hear what they’re saying.

“An unusual choice for both teams here as we kick off this final series,” Bernard says. “Neither of our centers taking the tip-off today.”

Kento shows no emotion as the ref lets go of the ball, and Mahito leaps, but he’s not fast enough.

“Number thirty-seven Kento Nanami swipes the tip-off without hesitation!” Rika announces. “Back to number six, the Sorcerers' Satoru Gojo, and a fantastic pass up to Fushiguro.”

The Curses' hulking point guard, Jogo, is right up in Megumi’s face with a massive hand reaching out to block, but Yuji grabs the rebound and pounds it through the hoop in seconds.

“And the Sorcerers take the lead just sixteen seconds in,” Bernard says. You look over at Ieiri and Nobara, grinning, and then back to where Mei Mei stands with a stony expression across the court.

You feel good about this.

Back and forth, back and forth. Ino is giving Jogo a run for his money, using his speed to dart around the massive point guard before he even sees what’s coming. In his breakaways Yuji keeps finding himself pitted against Mahito, and it seems like it’s always a fifty-fifty whether the block is successful.

“Some subs as we enter the second quarter. On San Diego's side we have Haruta Shigemo on for Fumihiko Takaba.”

“Yuta Okkotsu on for the Sorcerers!” Rika says, a little too excitedly, before she catches herself and calms down.

“Someone has a fangirl,” Nobara snorts beside you, holding just one side of the headset to her ear.

You can’t tear your eyes away from Satoru and Geto as they go up and down the court, always on each other’s heels, breathing hard. It’s personal, and everyone can see it. If they’re saying anything you can’t make it out.

Both teams are going all-out right now, and the fans feel it too. Megumi’s guarding Naoya Zenin like a shadow, something in the air around them tense and constant. You don’t see Yuji’s uncle but you can certainly hear him, somewhere behind you on the visitors’ side, screaming, “HELL YEAH! SHOW THEM WHAT A WIN REALLY MEANS! THESE FUCKERS WOULDN’T KNOW FIRE IF IT LIT UNDER THEIR ASSES!”

You give it two minutes before he’s kicked out.

Inumaki goes on, then Hakari, and at some point the Curses swap Jogo out for Dagon, and it’s go, go, go. You can barely catch your own breath by the half, the game wrapping around you like you’re the one playing it, and Satoru’s drenched in sweat as the team files back to the locker room. He reaches out and pinches you in the side and you stick your tongue out at him, like the mature adult you are.

“Gross,” Nobara says.

The rest of the game goes by in a similar blur of shots and blocks and heated matchups, Toge nailing a few free throws, Takaba coming back on and managing to slip past Megumi only once. The scoreboard never reads more than a six-point deficit.

You almost don’t hear the buzzer when it’s finally over, players skidding to a stop on the court, their heads turned up toward the scoreboard.

“Holy shit,” Ieiri breathes beside you. “We won. We actually fucking won.”

You rip off the headset, the grin overtaking you, relief and pride flooding your veins like a drug, and the rest of the team floods the court in celebration. They beat a first seed team on their home court.

Satoru catches your eye over the mass of people and smiles, and you wave back.

And this is only the beginning.

directory. || prev.

jjk taglist open: just send me a message!

@shutuppeter @mikikkoo @reactwithjan @theclassbookworm @lilactaro

72 notes · View notes

moonacrefarm · 21 days ago

Text

anticipating love

summary: sometimes the only way up is backwards.

contains: childhood friends to lovers to strangers, second-chance romance, angst, hurt/comfort, slight miscommunication, fluff, 18+ series, mentions of stalking, mentions of cancer, no mention of y/n

authors note: i think i rewrote this like four times. editing this one was so difficult bc i was never satisfied, i'm not used to writing dialogue and all of it felt unnatural </3. for this chapter, i was listening to home by danny knutelsky... i'm not sure if you can tell that was the vibe i was writing with... enjoy!

series masterlist

previous part | next part.

05. a secret place to hide

"You can live your life, you know?" Your mother's hand caressed your hair as you laid in her lap. Since the last time Bradley visited you’d avoided him, holing up in your room or Hard Deck during it’s off-hours. You found yourself taking advantage of the sights San Diego had to offer if it meant avoiding him. Your run-in with Bradley had seemingly shaken you up more than you thought.

You pushed yourself up, leaning on her shoulder as you watched a movie.

"I am living my life, though?" You riposte.

She gave you a look and sighed, surrendering to you, “Look, Penny called. She needs help working tonight. Would you please give her a hand?”

You narrowed your eyes at your mother. You knew her like the back of your hand and you could sniff a scheme out. “Did you hear the conversation I had with Bradley the other night?”

She held her breath for a second in deep thought.

Before she sighed, “Yeah I did.”

You groaned, throwing your head back on the couch. You’d been found out.

“Only a little bit! I didn’t hear a lot, just you scolding him.”

“Does Penny actually need help at the bar or is this just another scheme?” You raised a brow at her.

“She actually did call for help. Her server called out sick last minute and tonight a ship is docking.”

You stared. “Why does this feel familiar?”

“You know we can’t schedule when the fleet comes in.”

“There’s a ‘but’ at the end of that sentence.”

Your mother and Penny had always been team Bradley Bradshaw; they even placed bets on when you'd be married. The worst part? They weren't wrong. You'd done everything but date, including sharing every first with each other.

“Neither of us can guarantee Bradley won’t be there tonight. So you might have to break the cold war you have going on.”

“Might?”

“You weren’t hiding it, you were avoiding him. I’ve never seen you drive yourself around this much.” She laughed at you, slightly coughing at the end.

She turned to face you, "You should talk to him..." She said softly, leaning her tired body on the couch as you faced each other.

"I don't want to. Not with…" You looked away from her, "Not with everything going on." She sighed before smacking you on the arm. You yelped as you tried to soothe the pain away. Glaring at her as she smiled.

"Do I look like I'm dead yet? You might as well lay me in the coffin with your attitude. I can still smack some sense into you." She guffawed, you joining her laughing fit soon after.

“I’m not saying to talk to him tonight. With the boat docking his detachment might not even be there, but your aunt has managed to run a very successful bar. You’re in his territory, there’s always a risk.”

“Oh risk my ass, North Island isn’t that small Mom.” You huffed, you both laughing.

You thought about it for a second. It seemed like a very loose scheme, one where they’re placing bets on Bradley being there tonight. Your mother wouldn’t throw you into anything that made you genuinely uncomfortable, but she is more than willing to give you a push.

“Just one ship docking?”

“God I hope. Anyone who isn’t married is gonna be bar hopping once they get their land legs back.”

“I’ll go help her. I’ll call her on my way down there.”

She nodded looking at the TV and sinking in the couch. The chemo had taken its toll this time, her breathing a little faster, her body a little smaller, but she was fighting. “Are you sure you won't need me tonight?”

She looked back up at you, “Your father will be home in a couple of hours, by the time you leave I’ll be in the kitchen scolding him into how to make proper lasagna.” You smiled at her. “He must be so excited.”

“He doesn’t even know yet.”

The sun hung slightly above you, finally coming down into the view but not quite evening yet. Penny had stopped by to pick you up suggesting that you could spend the night at her place anyway.

You took a deep breath and sat in the passenger seat before you could talk yourself out of this.

“I’ll man the bars, you dish out the drinks?” Penny’s voice pulled your attention, her hands around the steering wheel.

“I’m much better at customer service anyway.” You told her with a grin. She reached over and pinched you lightly on your side.

“I do appreciate the help. I don’t know what it is but this must be the third time I’ve asked you to help on boat night,”

“Fourth Pen.” You interjected, she continued anyway.

“Details details…,” She waved her hand at you, “You're the best waitress I’ve had.” You chuckled to yourself and leaned your head on the window.

She was quiet for a few moments before asking you, “So, your mom and Simpson worked things out again?”

She was prodding lightly. She was always weary of navy men and had never fully trusted your father.

Your parents had never fallen out of love, but when they separated your father was busy climbing ranks. The constant time apart and they didn’t know how to live with each other anymore. Besides the issue of neglecting his family, your father wasn’t very affectionate and no matter how hard your mother fought, he was stubborn and a straight shot. He was blinded until he got what he set out for.

What made him a great pilot made him a horrible husband and father.

You shrugged at Penny, “I’m not sure. I think mom’s cancer plays a part in how normal they’re being. I can’t say though. You probably know more than me.”

“Hmmm. But you live with them, you see more.”

“I do, but…you know Dad’s never been the one to have a range of emotions.”

Penny let out an airy laugh. “You’re right about that hon. That man is a piece of concrete if I’ve ever seen one. A true military man.”

She sighed, pulling in front of the bar. You both crawled out, the Hard Deck loomed over you two. The building seemed twice its size and you’d need the room for tonight.

“Alright, one boat docked, and maybe the usual crowd. Did your mom warn you about tonight?”

You nodded. “She warned me about the boat and about Bradley.”

Penny smiled brightly. “Perfect. I can prepare you for mermen, but I can’t prepare you for a Bradshaw.”

You shooed her away as the first bar patrons came in. Settling in a booth and flagging you over.

You looked at Penny, and she looked at you. Both nodded at each other as the sun sunk lower into the skyline.

One thing about the Hard Deck, it was only open after 5:30 pm. Not a minute sooner and not a minute later. The first thirty or so minutes were quiet.

Until a group of shored fish popped in. Once you saw the first group you knew more were sure to follow. The sun had set and you had been running around the bar all night. As the shift went on, you realized you hadn’t seen Bradley’s detachment.

There was a solid chance they wouldn’t be here tonight with how crowded it was and their training.

“Penny, two whiskey sours and a craft beer please.”

“Coming right up darling.”

You leaned on the bar a bit, standing between two empty stools and letting your body sag. You hadn’t played waitress like this since your last restaurant job. You caught your breath for a second before Penny plopped three drinks in front of you.

“Do you need your break?”

You shook your head no. The buzz from keeping busy kept your mind so preoccupied you didn’t have time to think about anything else.

“I’ll let you know when Penn.”

She nodded at you and served a couple more beers to the guys waiting.

Dancing through the crowd kept you on your toes. Time had passed that threshold where most people weren’t worried about decorum or balance. No matter how alert you were, someone always caught you off guard.

A bar-goer stepped back into your space, catching your shoe and you braced yourself as you tried to regain your balance. A couple more stumbles pulled your weight to the side, your gravity off balance and the tray going with the momentum.

Until two arms engulfed your frame.

Gently, they pulled you upright, one hand jutting out to grab the tray out of your hands. As you righted yourself, you noted said hand lingering lightly on your waist, “You alright?” Bradley leaned down to ask you.

Him and his darn height.

“I’m good Bradshaw.” You fixed your shirt and readjusted your apron. One deep breath in and you went to grab the tray of drinks. They had only slightly spilled. Hopefully, they’d be too drunk to notice. You’d give them a 10% off when you closed their tabs out.

“You sure?” He asked, turning the tray away from you.

You huffed at him. “Yes, I am sure. I promise.”

His eyebrows rose and gently he set the tray back into your hands. “Careful bugs.” You nodded once more before carrying on for the night.

You could feel his eyes on you the rest of your shift, didn’t matter where you went in the bar or where you went into the crowd. Bradley’s eyes found you with ease.

“You talk to Bradshaw tonight?” Penny asked, eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“Somehow, this all feels a little familiar…” You gave her a small side-eye.

“Aye, I’m not letting you off the hook this time. I’m paying you to work the whole shift.”

“Okay okay… I’m not gonna run away just because he looked at me.”

“I know you won’t, you would’ve ran as soon as he walked in here.” The side of her mouth twitched. “You also don’t have your car.”

Reminded of your shameful past, you took your restocked tray and carried on for the night.

Bradley nursed his drink until his group was ready to leave, pulling away from them and promising he’d see them tomorrow. He set his eyes on you. Your chest slightly rising and falling from exhaustion, your bangs framing your face, and a couple of other strands out of place.

You could feel his warmth and he pulled up on your side.

The bar had quieted significantly, the majority of the group's bar hopping elsewhere or down at the beach.

He sat on the stool and watched you silently. You didn’t make a move to speak to him, trying to close the register and get the last of the tabs shut out. His watching you didn’t make you uncomfortable. Did you want to face him after the heart-to-heart?

Yes, but also… absolutely not. The feelings that were crawling themselves out of their graves were overwhelming and you didn’t want them pouring out again.

“You finish up that last tab, I can check out the rest,” Penny said from behind you.

“Are you sure? I’m already doing it.”

“I’m sure.” She nodded at Bradley, “I might be a little late closing, think you could give her a ride Bradshaw?”

The scheming commenced.

“It’d be my pleasure.” His grin lopsided.

Him and his darn grin.

“I’m staying at your place tonight? I even promised Amelia.”

“I never said you were going home. Just might get there a little earlier than me.” She smiled slyly, testing the waters that were you and Bradshaw. “‘Sides, I wouldn’t come between a promise between you and Amelia. Strong-headed that one, I wouldn't dare.”

You huffed, “Alright, this register is checked out,” You looked at Penny, “I'll do the final count.”

Turning to Bradley, silence suspended between you both, Bradley smiling lightly while looking at you.

"Got a starin' problem?" You jested.

He smirked at you, "If I do?" Your eyes narrowed as he laughed.

"Don't mind me taking in the view." He grinned, a slight flush on his ears, "You're dressed real purtty' tonight." He added with a mock southern accent.

Your face ran hot again. The tips of your ears bloomed red as blood rushed to your face. Bradley looked at you again, reaching for your bags and throwing them on his shoulder. "How have you been?" He inquired, holding the door open for you as you walked. You weren't sure what to answer; how had you been? With everything going on, you hadn't had time to process it all.

"Alright?" You trailed off. "As good as I can be." You said sardonically. He read your body language, deciding not to prod any further. "And you?" You questioned back. The awkwardness finally settled in. His shoulders tensed. "About the same." He stilled. You watched him fidget with his lip, something he did when he wasn't sure what to do. "About back then..." He started. This time, you didn't stop him.

“I meant it when I said I’ll come to you. This time, let me do the heavy lifting.” “Bradley, what does that even mean?”

“It means I’ve seen a future with you for years and always ran away out of fear. We’ve waited for ‘later’ to come for years, I’ve waited for years. When you’re ready, whenever that is, I’ll be here.” He paused for a breath, opening the car door for you and leaning on the frame of the car, “I was the one who left…I think it’s only fair that this time I come to you.” Your breath hitched as you regarded his hazel eyes, firm in resolve. It almost sent you stumbling.

After a few beats of silence, he ushered you in the car. Climbing into the driver seat and starting the engine, pausing for another moment, “Do you know Penny’s address?”

Your belly laugh ran out in the cabin of the car. Watching as his ears tinged pink.

“Wasn’t the best ending to a confession of love was it?”

“No…” You teetered off, “But it was very you.”

He frowned, “I don’t think I’m starting off very strong here.”

“Maybe not, but you Bradley Bradshaw are the one I’ve chosen over and over again, you and all your fumbles,” You leaned over the center console of the Bronco, “I’ll tell you what Bradshaw, sweep me off my feet one more time and I’ll be yours forever.” You kissed his cheek tenderly.

The back of his hand grazed your cheek and you leaned into it. “I know we have a lot to work out, but I don’t want to fight it anymore, you’re here…and that’s more than I ever had of you before.” He flinched.

“They're gonna have to pull my teeth out if they try and ship me off anywhere where you aren’t.” You laughed again.

“I’ll let you come to me this time.” You kissed his knuckles. “You were always best for me, Bradshaw.”

Bradley leaned in and kissed your forehead, lingering there for a few seconds, “This time, I’ll make sure I’m the best I can be for you. I promise Bugs.”

You two pulled apart for a couple seconds before you registered the sound of the engine, “Do I need to type in the address?”

Bradley groaned.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #anticipating love #take the pen away #top gun #top gun maverick #rooster x reader #top gun maverick fanfiction #tgm

75 notes · View notes

ivoryrebellionmess · 2 months ago

Text

Spooky remorses

Summary: You dated Jax for a year and a half, it was great. You fought sure, but that's a given if you´re both stubborn (and he's constantly in danger). Gemma didn't like the relationship, and she made sure that it ended. Now, months after the breakup, your friend takes you to a Halloween party that just happens to be SAMCRO´s.

warnings: 18+, mdni

A/N: Heyyy :) this is my first time writing anything so I hope it's not too bad. english is not my first language so please tell me if there are any mistakes. i just saw an edit and this kind of popped into my head. there´s no physical description of the reader, no y/n. the ter trashy pop is used, but in a good way, i love trashy pop

this is not the whole thing, just a little taste to take the edge off of uploading the whole fic. hope you like it <3

pd: i bet you can tell i´ve never smoked lol

tw: foul language, kinda hooking up with your ex, jealous jax, smoking,a little bit of spice, alcohol, gemma being mean

Word count: 1994

You heard her before you saw her, your head buried in paperwork,

¨No one told me in college that nurses had to do this much paperwork¨ Hazel laughed.

She was new in Charming, looking for a quieter life than the one she had in San Francisco. You had almost laughed at the irony when she first told you, the Sons present in your mind. One Son specifically. How you managed to avoid him considering the amount of hospital visits they made was almost a miracle.

You had to change your mechanic, that's true, a minor inconvenience.

Hazel knew about the guy you had just broken up with when she started working with you, but you had, of course, not told her he was none other than the VP of the motorcycle club. There were parts of that story that raised difficult questions. So the official version was that you had a relationship and that it ended because he was kind of a mama's boy, which was not a lie. The truth? Gemma didn't like you and she did everything she could to get rid of you. She succeeded of course.

As you looked up from the files, your greeting was her mischievous smile. ¨Oh no, what is it?¨.

Hazel leaned in on the table, looking over her shoulder ¨Sooo, you wanted to go dancing on Halloween, but all the good parties are sold out right?¨

You hummed as you got closer to her, ¨Sure, been sold out weeks¨

¨What if I told you I got us invited to a private party?¨ She looked so proud of herself, smiling like she just won the lottery.

The head nurse approached you, shaking her head but not mad, ¨Last time I checked your, job description said nothing about gossiping, ladies¨

With that, Hazel got back to her rounds, and you got back to your paperwork; the party still on the back of your mind.

When it was finally time to clock out, Hazel and you decided you´d get ready at her place that Friday before going to the party; and you got in your car and drove to a costume shop. You'd thought of just buying fake blood and splashing it on some scrubs you didn't use anymore, but as you entered a beautiful mannequin dressed as a vampire gave you another idea. You had a dress that you hadn't had a chance to wear yet, well, this was it.

The cashier joked as you paid for a gothic looking choker and fake fangs ¨Last minute buy huh?¨; you nodded, laughing along with her.

On Friday morning, you packed a bag with the outfit and makeup you would need to get ready and left for the hospital. The hours seemed to tick by specially slow: making your rounds, filling up paperwork, changing dressings, administering medication, over and over. During lunchtime one of your friends wanted to know which party you were going to, and that's when you realized you didn't know.

¨I´ve been so excited with the idea of going I did not even wonder…and Hazel´s been so busy, we have barely talked¨

At last you got to Hazel's place, opened up a couple of beers and started getting ready, trashy pop blasting from the radio. While the glue in the fake fangs dried off, a question escaped your lips ¨So, what's the story with this party?¨.

The image of your fingers stuck in your mouth, holding the fangs in place was guilty for a fit of laughter being all you got for an answer. Hazel´s cackles were very contagious, even more so after a couple of beers.

She sat down to do her makeup, ready to answer your question ¨My car broke down right? Anette from the pediatric wing said she knew the best mechanics in town¨ Your face went white at that, fearing the worst ¨so I went there, and the hottest guy comes up to me and starts asking about the car¨ she turned to face you ¨when I say hot I don't think you understand, I mean very hot¨ a sick feeling to your stomach made you think that was probably Jax, charming a beautiful girl into a party, and then his bed, Hazel was too deep in the story to notice your change in demeanor ¨he was funny as hell and he had these tats in his head, you should have seen him¨.

You finally felt like you could breathe a little better, so you interrupted ¨So you got us invited to SAMCRO´s party?¨ That was when Hazel noticed you were sitting on her bed, your face serious, and she assumed she knew why ¨Listen honey, I know they're supposed to be dangerous or whatever, but it's just a party, nothing bad will happen¨.

As she sat down next to you, you grabbed her hand ¨Remember my ex?¨ she blinked at that, not the answer she was expecting ¨Yeah, the one you never talk about¨. You breathed in deeply ¨I never talk about him because he's the VP of the Sons, and there are many things I can't tell you¨.

A heavy silence fell between you two, and you could see disappointment in her eyes.

You knew you shouldn't, you had been avoiding him for a reason, but you couldn't help yourself, Hazel had been looking forward to the party, and so had you, if you were being honest.

You got up and grabbed the dark red lipstick ¨So, now that we both have all the information, let's finish here¨, before Hazel even finished opening her mouth you continued ¨We're already half dressed, Juice will be waiting for you. I have to see Jax again eventually, I can't avoid him forever¨.

With that, you sat down and finished doing your makeup ¨Come on Hazel, we don't have the whole night¨. She gave you a grateful smile.

A little after, you admired the both of you in the mirror: Hazel had a beautiful purple witch costume, and you were wearing a garnet minidress, fishnets, black platform heels and the choker and fangs. ¨We look hot, he's gonna die when he sees you¨ Hazel kissed your cheek lovingly, and with that you left.

Memories flooded your brain as Hazel parked in front of the clubhouse and were quickly interrupted by her voice ¨I really am sorry-¨, a reassuring smile and a wink shut her up, then you got out of the car.

A dull throb came from the closed door, the beat of the music. It got louder as some girls you didn't know opened the door and got out, laughing and clearly drunk.

¨Looks like a fun party Hazel, let's go get your guy¨, with that you started walking, putting as much fake confidence as you could into every step. What you were not expecting was her disappearing as soon as the door closed behind you.

By yourself, as you had so many nights before, you approached the bar, spotting Chibs. He smiled at you as a wave of recognition flashed in his face

¨Look what the cat dragged in¨, leaning on the countertop. Chibs eyed you up and down and you twirled, chuckling ¨What can I get ya? It's on the house¨.

Jax´s breath caught in his throat as he saw you walking into the party, what the hell were you doing there. He couldn't believe how good you looked, the dress clinging to your body in all the right places, the fishnets, the dark makeup...

It might be the sexier you had ever looked. He had to play it cool so he leaned against the wall, beer in hand, yet his eyes followed your every movement.

You were talking to Chibs, laughing and joking, and he felt a pang in his chest. That should be him.

Now that your vodka tonic was half empty, being in the clubhouse was way less stressful, still you had to make an effort not to look at him. You could feel his gaze on you, but you had not dared do the same. A blonde head of head on the periphery was more than enough.

So you leaned in the bar next to Chibs. ¨Can you believe my friend ditched me the second she stepped in here?¨, a light chuckle escaping your lips at the absurdity of it.

He laughed with you, looking around ¨Can´t blame her, not with hot bikers everywhere¨.

¨Oh my god i cant believe youre on her side¨, you jokingly hit his arm.

Chibs kept on joking about how hot the Sons were while you both looked around the room, your eyes suddenly falling on Jax.

He looked fucking great .

You had to make a bit of an effort to look away, taking a sip of your drink. This did not go unnoticed to Chibs, who smirked, knowing his brother too well.

Jax had been peeking at you too, even if he pretended to focus on the conversation he was having.

You noticed Chibs leaning closer, his voice dropping ¨You know he hasn't stopped looking at you since you walked in, don't ya?¨.

You bit the inside of your cheek ¨Didn't even notice¨.

¨So you didn't notice him almost spilling his beer when he first saw you?¨ He chuckled ¨Or the way he keeps stealing glances every time he thinks no one's gonna notice?¨.

You could tell Chibs was enjoying your effect on Jax a little more than a brother should, but you were more worried about the way his presence was affecting you.

¨I haven't got a clue what you´re talking about¨, you just hoped your innocent facade was good enough.

Chibs shook his head, so it wasn't. ¨You´re a terrible liar, but I´ll play along. Keep acting like he's not here and let's see how long he can keep his cool¨. A wink punctuated the ending of his challenge.

Not loving the route the conversation was heading in, you finished your drink with one BIG gulp and left.

¨Thanks for the drink, it was great¨. Before you could quite leave he chuckled, amused by your stubbornness.

¨Uh huh, whatever. Don't pretend to be surprised when he starts pestering you, you know he will. That boy can't resist a challenge¨

That did strike a nerve, and your mouth was working before you could register what you were saying, ¨I´m not a challenge, I´m his ex¨

Chibs chuckled and leaned in closer ¨You ignoring him is a challenge, being his ex only adds to it¨ He took a swing of his beer before continuing, ¨Trust me, you're getting under his skin more than you realize¨

For whatever reason, that angered you. You were not a challenge, and ignoring him was the sane choice. The alcohol in your system just fueled that anger, so still in hushed voices you retorted, ¨Am I getting under his skin? Or is he just horny and knows I´m a good fuck?¨

He just laughed, this was the you he remembered, running your mouth in a tiny dress, having a good time but not letting anyone put you down. Well, not anyone, the fight against Gemma was the one he'd seen you lose.

¨Oh believe me it's both, he sees you and all he can think about is getting you into bed. But there's more to it, ain't there?¨ This time when he smirked he was looking at Jax, who was talking to Tig, his eyes trained on you.

You started walking to the dancefloor, and you offered a shrug as an answer to his question. The words that followed, not even you believed, ¨I don´t know, and I don´t care¨

Chibs watched you leave, talking to himself, ¨Yeah, you keep telling yourself that¨. He then looked at Jax, who was following your every movement from his spot leaning on the wall. Chibs just shook his head and went over, ready to stir the pot.

#jax teller #soa #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfic #jax teller fanfic #jax teller x reader #jax teller x you

133 notes · View notes

therealslimshakespeare · 9 months ago

Text

Friends in the Crucible

MOTA PACIFIC THEATRE || FLIGHT SURGERY AU

1: Welcome to Hell Island

Requested by the sweet @forsythiagalt

AU NOTE: due to a long-standing crush on real life heroine Ensign Jane Kendeigh and her work on Iwo Jima, the current ongoing anniversary of the battle and a hope to not step on the toes of any existing Nurse!xBuck pairings -I’ve gone with what excited my imagination the most and created an entire Pacific AU with our MOTA boys. If this AU ends up being as interesting and stimulating to y’all as it was for me in writing it, I’d be terribly down for exploring more scenarios with everyone in their new and varied roles.

Main paring: Gale Cleven and OC Flight Nurse Ensign Maureen Kendeigh…cameos by “Doc” Egan, John Brady, Ken Lemmons, Harry Crosby and Benny Demarco…and maybe a nod to a certain Marine Captain named “Andy” who I refused to let die, even though he was never on this island. You neither need to have seen HBO’s Pacific or know about the history for this to make sense, in fact it might help my ignorant writing go down better without it 😏

Warnings: WAR?! Graphic descriptions of wounds, battlefields, gore, foul language, period typical language: use of the word “Jap” and a joking insult of “fish eater” for a Catholic. Hints that John Egan is a terror to his nurses, Cleven having to take his pants off for a wound to be examined, brief mentions and emphasis on his never having been touched by a woman intimately, a nurse positioning a man’s member out of the way to his surprise, strictly professional tho. No joke, really. But they’re having a bit of a moment.

Only proof read once. So many thanks to Bee, Christi and Ashley who all enabled me into going this rogue with a simple request and for giving edits and assurances. Hope y’all enjoy!

There were a whole lotta jolts in the descent. Of course there were. Why, there were jolts and bumps even coming down to the runway at Pearl or San Diego, and there had been far more than jolts on the training tarmacs in Kentucky. She had been in enough planes, experienced enough banging about, and had enough wheels up landings that Maureen felt somewhat entitled to her opinion on the necessity of jolts or none.

So far, Major Gale Cleven had piloted this monstrous tin can like a limo, smooth, steady and with full warning for each bank and turn. Maureen had not even had to catch a single falling bottle so far and the rows of empty bunks lining each side of the plane had hardly rattled except in the same low humming frequency of the ever thrumming engine.

But now there were jolts. And of course there were, they were flying straight into a warzone. Cleven had gotten them to Iwo Jima two hours ago, and since that time he’d been circling the island in a wide arc, casually waiting for a pesky air battle between fighters to calm down enough for him to land. Sure, the beaches had been wiped clean and a landing strip had been carved out of volcanic ash and marine corps blood -cleared for their use. But still, there were Jap bunkers, Jap planes, Japs themselves and Jap equipment in that smoldering mountain and so far, no word had come down definitely as to when the island might be considered secure.

It was all very historic, Maureen has been assured -allowing a woman into a combat zone. First time ever, so they kept erroneously insisting. That’s why there was a man armed with a camera and not plasma sitting a few lines down from her on the cold metal bench. Maureen had once had plenty of time to ponder the historicity of her mission and that of her fellow nurses back in Guam, right now she wished she could focus solely on her training and ignore the ominous crack-pop of something hazardous in the air and the resulting wobble of Major Cleven’s steering.

Stupidly she wished the Major’s low voice would come back on through the near radio system and soothe them all back down like frightened livestock. Gale Cleven had a way of managing that even with his face obscured, and while it made Maureen blush to admit she needed any calming, the facts were she was 24 years old, practically untried and desperate to be brave enough to be of use. Rattling on the bench seat between equally nervous girls and a hawk-eyed journalist was no match for the cuticle picking anxiety.

Maureen chose to forcefully look up from said bloody cuticles and was met by Major Egan’s gum smacking grin across from her. How many carriers had he been on when they went down? Kamikaze planes jutting out the side of them, ocean water pouring in, sharks abounding and hundreds of patients under his care, in his charge to tow to shore?

Mild, scattered, poor-man’s flack wasn’t remotely disturbing to their flight surgeon. “He’s great, isn’t he?” Egan yelled to her cheerfully, the jerk of his head suggested his praise was directed towards someone in the cockpit.

Maureen knew well enough that much as Egan respected the co-pilot Demarco, it was no match for the love affair between him and Cleven, an appreciation that had Egan’s special request yanking his friend from Air Force to Navy to Transit. Such a series of bounces in a man’s otherwise distinguished career, all to chauffeur one charmingly entitled flight surgeon, was enough to put anyone into a bad mood -it would explain Major Cleven’s initial coolness on meeting them all at the departure tarmac.

Or maybe he was just businesslike. Maureen couldn’t fault anyone for that. He had been prepped, perhaps not as much as she had, but he didn’t act entitled in any way, and he kept the plane steady. Except for this mounting series of jolts.

“Yes,” she had chosen to holler back to Doctor -Lieutenant Commander? Bucky No Shits? Johnny? Doc “Smirky”?- Egan, knowing he’d want a favorable report on his friend, “it’s been remarkably smooth.”

Maureen was glad truth aligned with diplomacy in this instant. Although if any man could handle the outright truth it was John Egan, no matter what they all said. And “they” said a lot, he had once had two marine squadrons under his care and to them he was a Marine, simultaneously he’d had three navy squadrons to take care of and to them he was a Navy man. He’d even switched uniforms thrice in a day before. And now he was being flown about by his best friend to tend carcasses on a foreign strand, oddly suited to terrible conditions and bad scenarios, offering medical aviation expertise and poorly timed jokes wherever he went.

He’d trained her group of specialized Evacuation Flight Nurses the last three weeks of aquatic conditioning in the states, and he’d culled eighteen out of the group for getting winded after towing full grown men seven laps in the San Diego surf -all while puffing on a cigarette himself, seated with sunglasses on in an motorized dinghy. Maureen had come to hate him that day, and every day after she’d come to want to be like him. Kathleen Martin got her wings pinned first and Maureen right after, “well done, Candy!” Egan had praised while his fist drove in the tack.

“It’s Kendeigh, sir.” Maureen had dared correct for the hundredth time that training week, “Pronounced like: Ken-Day.”

“Cand-ay. Got it!” he repeated with jovial affirmation and that was that.

Major Cleven had given her the respect of calling her ‘Ensign’ as he shook her hand, a quick and firm squeeze and on to her next companion, she’d have judged him as too pristine in everything from mannerisms to features were his war record not ample justification for his bearing. The low cadence of his voice over the coms came in as a slight pitch to the plane and a swoop of decline in altitude became apparent under her—

“All personnel prepare for landing.”

Cleven was nothing like those pilots during training, barking orders laced with frantic warning in their voices. It was a cow pasture back in Kentucky and there they’d had no good reason for alarm. Here where there was real reason, Gale Cleven crooned to them and John Egan smiled opposite her as he took in the effect his chosen pilot had on his nurses.

“Like soothin’ a baby,” Egan sighed as he lounged a little deeper on his bench, long legs deceptively braced for impact, Maureen had long ago learned the man was nothing but smoke and mirrors of his actual intentions, “isn’t he great? In danger of fallin’ asleep with that guy at the wheel.”

To emphasize his point -or more likely to distract “his girls” from the imminent prospect of landing on a battleground, Egan leaned back all the way and tipped his cover over his eyes, pretending to fall asleep. Maureen caught him as he cocked one sharp eye open to see if she was still watching. She gave him a hopeless smile of recognition of his disguised kindness before forcefully suppressing a gasp of shock as the plane hit Amtrak smoothed gravel and ground its way down the beach. Egan hadn't budged by the time the momentum ceased and the plane became bizarrely still after hours of vibrating travel.

“Right. That’s us.” He straightened up, his cover and his posture, rising up in his seat and slapping at the metal ceiling of the plane, “Good job Buck.” he hollered and got no reply. “He’s still crabby about flying a C-47.” he divulged to no one in particular as they all rose and prepared to disembark, drilled for ages in this routine and finally let loose to practice it. Egan’s nonchalance was almost disorienting for such a momentous occasion.

The large cargo door was opened and a irreverently pleasant tropical breeze funneled through the plane, bearing with it the sounds of crashing waves and popping, far off gunnery. There was also a smell that came with it, sulfur and sweet. It was sickening from the first, and Maureen dreadedly wondered if it was from volcanic fumes and rotting vegetation or something more heartbreaking. With her kit on her back she followed her companions out the cargo door, finding Major Cleven blank faced and unphased on the tarmac beside it. Nothing but a smidge of sweat around his hairline to suggest the hours of flight he’d just clocked and the wacky landing he’d managed so well.

“Welcome to hell island, ladies.” he greeted in a droll monotone and Maureen’s gait stiffened without her permission.

There was no true tarmac, as they had been warned, just a strip of cleared back sand churned up by Cleven’s wheels. Lapping waves were on the left side and then a field of sheets to the right. It was the oddest sight. Rows and rows of camo tarp and white sheets blotted pink, hardly a spot of sand to be seen between. They’d been warned it was havoc here, the situation so bad that they’d finally allowed for this exception, allowed the sending in of specialized units to evacuate by air as the boats could hardly ferry enough of the wounded out in time to save them. But this -this beach of corpses was so daunting a task it seemed impossible to choose where to start.

“John,” she heard Major Cleven address Lieutenant Commander Egan as he dropped down beside her, “you’ve only got so many births, do what ya need to do to fill them, but I’ve got my orders. You’re not settin’ up a hospital. When we get the supplies off, get this plane full -we’re takin’ off. Full stop. I’m not gonna have us here like sittin’ ducks for the mortars while you fuss.”

“I hear ya.” Egan assured him in that remarkably unassuring way of his and lit a cigarette. “Alright nurses, gather round.”

Triage was crucial for such a mission, the prioritizing of wounds and necessary services essential for prolonging the lives of those in imminent peril, versus those with the likelihood of surviving on only the essentials found in a corpsman or medic’s arsenal. They’d be back tomorrow with another flight, and the day after that. Cleven was right that they weren’t here to establish a hospital, yet still the idea of how many would perish from being left behind, even by this first flight, was a sickening probability Maureen has been trained to ignore.

“Where are all the corpsmen?” Egan asked one pharmacist's mate who came to greet them, picking his way through the rows of groaning men. The boy couldn’t have been a day over seventeen.

“Up there,” the kid had nodded up to Mount Suribachi and its ominous veil of smoke, “or dead. Lost so many in the first week they started sending us in to substitute. We’ve done what we can. Sure glad to see you guys.”

“What’s your name, boy?”

“Lemons, sir.”

“Hell I can’t call someone a lemon, now can I?” Egan’s grin was infectious and the boy grinned back like he was seeing his first friend in ages.

“Then it’s Kenny. Sir.”

“Yeah alright Kenny, let’s get to it.” Egan had drilled you all so thoroughly you could have performed even without the aid of the grounded pharmacists and their mates, yet still it was odd to see such a mass of wounded and so few to tend them. The desperation and chaos was tangible.

Maureen had barely set off out from under the plane wing when Gale Cleven’s brusque reprimand arrested her steps as forcefully as a tug to her flight suit would have, “That bunch don’t need your help.”

The terse judgment in his tone gave her sharper eyes to notice that the particular section she was headed towards all had sheets pulled over their faces. Her own face blanched at both the misstep and the sensory overload of so much sorting to do. She wasn’t going to feel sorry for herself, not here, not when faced with the easy part of all this, and she wasn’t going to be crippled by criticism while enduring her first trial by fire. “Right, thank you, Major.” she agreed with him as stoically as possible and ground her heel back around on the sand and tromped off towards the direction of sheets that were visibly alive and writhing in misery.

That changed as soon as they saw her girlish form walking amongst them. Sounds of dying anguish changed to cheerful wolf whistles and happy greetings. It made Maureen’s heart swell with pride at the unbreakable spirit in each of them.

She spent the next hour and a half amongst those men.

Gruesome was a word that Maureen swore to herself that she would never use lightly again. She wasn’t one given to hyperbole anyway, and her years apprenticing in the hospital in Manilla and her most recent training for exactly such wounds as these, understandably led her to believe she knew the mettle of such a word.

But no.

Gruesome, she decided as she began her task again and again, applied only to this: the way the tiniest slip of her hand on any part of this poor boy took skin with it, charred and soupy flesh squishing off meat and sinew like the flaky crust on a prime bit of brisket. It was the only comparison fitting. His own flamethrower had bitten him as he tried to take a countless next pillbox. He’d said it like a joke even as his teeth chattered too hard from pain to deliver the punchline.

Maureen wasn’t here to contemplate ironies, or the unfairness of war, she was here to find some intact vein through which to stab her needle and begin giving him back the blood that was slowly leaching into the black sand beneath him. Ensign Smith was holding up the bottle, throwing a shadow over his charred form that helped Maureen discern a bit better, giving the boy a kind word or ten of reassurance about home and pain relief. Maureen bit through her own tongue when she finally slid the needle home, deep and pulpy, she could only pray it would hold the blood they gave back.

“Alright, bandages, Smith.” Maureen decided and did her best not to jump as a mortar thumped on the sand, hundreds of yards away, but still, they were getting ever closer, proving Major Cleven’s grim prognostication to not be unfounded. He was confirmed that the Japanese didn’t give two shits about red crosses, much less cargo planes carrying in supplies and taking away wounded. Maureen tried not to dwell on it as she and Smith began cutting away filthy uniforms and wrapping their patients' flesh in the Vaseline soaked bandages. It was a terrible business for the first few minutes before the interlaced numbing agents in the gauze took affect and made their care something less like torture for the poor men.

Some of them could walk, a missing leg being a mild injury comparatively, they just needed the helpful shoulder of a technician and off they went to amble into Cleven’s plane. There the Major met them despite it being beyond his purview, handing out cigarettes even though he himself abstained and kept an eye on the Navy mechanic refueling his plane from a bullet riddled jeep. When he wasn’t doing that he was scanning the sky, aviators turned up and reflecting a cloudless sky. Maureen’s mouth grew chalky at the thought of what he was looking out for.

Once wrapped and tended, the men were ready to be hoisted on stretchers and taken to the plane. But those men were select ones, ones that Egan had decided upon. He had a particularly odd way of triaging, one that upon initial observation appeared rather callous and aloof to his nurses who had been trained as much in medical practice as in solicitous decorum.

Doc Egan moseyed through the ranks of wounded, keenly aware he was not as popular as his pretty faced nurses, but making up for it with such easy-going banter that chuckles followed him wherever he went, making the men forget that he was deciding who got relief and who did not. Who were to be permitted the cooling sheets of Elysium by nightfall and who were to be left burning on the sand. Puffing a cigarette and making small talk, he clocked each injury and each likelihood of recovery without giving a bit of it away.

Nearing Maureen’s own patient of the moment, she felt him crouch down beside her and take in the hopeless gut wound she was ineffectually trying to stuff with bandages. A sturner superior would tell her not to bother, to move on, save such determination for someone with a longer life expectancy than five minutes. Maureen found it hard to make that call herself when met with the pleading eyes of someone’s dying son.

“C’mon Candy, move over, lemme try.” Egan murmured and his hip knocked hers gently as he crouched over the boy, perfectly aware of the futility. “Hey bud, breathe for me, breathe. You wanna smoke?”

Egan’s now bloody fingers reached up to his own lips and plucked his fresh and third cigarette of the hour and brought it down to the boy’s chapped mouth, shifting until he was fully seated on the sand, arms around the kid’s shoulders, gently taking the refreshment away when he puffed out, then replacing it for another inhale.

Maureen knew better than to linger. Beside this scene of brotherly last rites was another dying man and a hundred more beside him, so she moved on, seeing only vaguely the way the kid coughed blood as he laughed at Egan’s conversation. The topic seemed to be on the boy’s dog back home. The Sergeant she was tending added in a bit of teasing over the name -who names their dog “puppy”?!

Maureen had barely managed a tourniquet on the sergeant's arm before she could suddenly hear Egan’s gentle chatter turn to low shushing.

The sergeant looked away to the other side.

Maureen noticed the discarded cigarette laying on the sand, it had been smoked to a stub.

The heaving rattle of panicked breath beside them stopped.

Egan shifted onto his knees again and his long, bloody fingers dragged those sightless eyes closed. There was the brittle clink of dog tags being checked.

The sheet was tugged up all the way.

That triage was over.

Maureen politely ignored Doc Egan’s harsh sniff beside her -it was dusty here- but clocked the way he rose to his feet, a rough brushing off of his flight suit and his brusque inquiry regarding her morphine distribution in sector 2.

“All tended-“ she had begun when a shout from the far off plane rang out-

“-JOHN!” That was Cleven’s unmistakable bellow and Egan, despite being in a human sea of potential Johns- responded like he’d been made to hear that one voice alone. “Incoming, west!”

“Shit.” Egan spun westward and sure enough there were fighters with a blazing red sun, rushing straight down at them.

They were such a distance away still, Maureen doubted Cleven’s sight for all of fifteen seconds before horror set in. “They wouldn’t-?” she looked up at Egan whose bitten lip suggested that they would indeed strafe these poor men given the chance.

“Stretchers!” Cleven yelled again, “Get ‘em under the wings!”

There was a callous logic to it. Those men already prepped to be saved might as well be prioritized this much more. Fairness wasn’t something promised in war and Maureen chose to hate Gale Cleven instead of some ephemeral “war” for verbalizing the awfulness of that necessary.

“Do it.” came Egan’s agreeing order and Maureen and Smith took their respective sergeant down near the waterline at a run, fifteen other nurses and the various techs mimicking them. They deposited their men under the relative safety of the flimsy wings and dashed back out for more, leaving two techs behind to hoist the poor fellas into the cargo hold and deposit them in their respective bunks.

“Come onnnnn.” Cleven’s warning yell was drowned by the commencement of allied anti aircraft higher up the beach, trying to pick off the fighters before they reached the landing strip.

Maureen hardly noticed the closing drone of the fighter’s approach, nothing but her heart beat and memorized lines of her training on repeat in her ears. She’d been trained to fight hand to hand if necessary, her folks knew the risks of their daughter volunteering for such service but there was a sour dampening of resolve at the idea of being picked off from the air, not even allowed a bit of struggle to go out with.

All she could do was lift, hoist, run, deposit, do it all again.

They were getting near to full. On one pass through she saw Cleven counting berths and scolding poor Ensign Courter for her rushed method of securing her charge- “five feet drop to the floor on my first bank, oughta be just what that chest wound needs. For God’s sake, I’ll do it!”

He had a cold sort of fury to him Maureen found obnoxiously potent, and she felt a judgment rise in her for his obvious haste in wanting to get out of there. To his credit, when the planes did go by and everyone hit the ground, he was still standing yanking on the straps to secure the top bunk. Bullets punctured the side of the plane and riddled it, tiny specks of light flooding into the dark hold. One man was grazed as he lay in there.

“John!” Cleven warned again after they’d gone by.

“I know, I know damnit.” Egan snapped back from yards away, “There’s just not enough corpsmen -let me finish my damn job.”

“By the time you finish yours I won’t be able to finish mine.” Cleven retorted and the obvious finally occurred to Maureen -perhaps it was not his own safety that preoccupied him but the fragile capability of his riddled plane being able to evacuate once full. That, was indeed, his job. Still, such sentiments expressed as they were from the shelter of the cockpit and from a man who favored a silk blue neck scarf identical to the shade of his eyes, rankled Maureen.

The returning buzz of the Japanese fighters coming back around only cemented her futile rage. Her arms were aching and the sand caught at her boots and her mouth was dry with dust and there were so many, so, so many more left to help. Ensign Smith had been called away to assist with lifting another, and Maureen was knelt beside the man they’d managed onto a stretcher, doing her damndest to find how many bullets were embedded in his left leg and how deep the shrapnel was on his right. There was so much blood and filth it was impossible to tell and Andy, as his name was, couldn’t give her much help besides informing her it hurt like hell and she sure was a sight for sore eyes.

“Egan! At your three o’clock!” There was Cleven again.

Maureen grinned back at Andy and forced it to stay on her face as the buzz of the approaching fighters grew imminent and the dreadful thwump of machine gun fire thudded into the earth yards up the beach. It hit the section of the dead first, a further injury and dishonor. Maureen felt a lump in her throat at the realization she had no one near to help her lift this stretcher and that Andy himself hadn’t a usable leg to spare.

“Go.” her patient told her with a clear look of realization on his face as the leaden spatter of strafing began to elicit responses from those wounded men still alive enough to react.

“No.” The refusal came out of her mouth about as naturally as taking the next breath.

A shadow threw over them for a second and Andy’s facial expression grew surprised, but, stubbornly focused on her patient’s face, Maureen assumed it was the plane passing by at last and chose not to spend her last seconds watching what was going to kill her. “Ensign Kendeigh, lift.” Major Cleven’s voice was so close so suddenly it spooked her flat on her backside until she saw him, squatting down and casting a shadow at the head of the stretcher, poles gripped in both hands, ready to hoist. She scrambled to the foot and took the wood in hand, lifting for the twentieth time that day and running towards the plane.

Time was slow and fast all at once. Cleven’s shadow had come before even the first fighter. But as they ran it zipped by, bullets flinging up sand into their eyes, a near miss. The second one was close behind and as they ran near to the wings, they saw no room was left under them, as crowded as an awning at Coney Island during the height of summer.

Maureen squatted fast and lowered the foot of the stretcher, feeling Cleven mimick her movements behind her. Before she could turn ‘round and enact her training, there their pilot was, body draped over the battered Marine captain, his back as stalwart and protective as the wings of his plane. Maureen threw herself to the ground as well, propping herself over Andy’s battered legs. Together they made a turtle shell of sorts and, damned to be caught cringing when death took her, Maureen kept her eyes open and stared back at Gale Cleven’s gentle face as the -thud-thud-thud- passed them, a micro expression of assurance twitching his mouth and eyes as death passed over.

Who needed to look at the sky when you could find God in those eyes his mother gave him?

For as long as she lived, Maureen would never forget the gust of his spearmint scented breath on her face, the first sensation she registered as soon as the planes were past and they yet remained, alive, locked together above a man they’d both risked dying for.

“Major, you shouldn’t’ve.” Andy’s rough voice spoke Maureen’s own dazed sentiments as they straightened up, Cleven picking up his fallen aviators from the sand, “You gotta fly us outta here, you die an’we’re all sitting ducks.”

“Eh, that’s why we have co-pilots, Skipper.” Cleven grinned before glancing back at the sky, his face morphing into anything but carefree.

“Is that how Lt. DeMarco feels?” Maureen teased wearily.

“I’d never presume to know how Benny Demarco feels.” Cleven replied levelly but the corner of his mouth quirked up in amusement, “Ensign Kendeigh, give me a task.” he demanded.

“Sir-“

“I want us outta here in ten.” His tone held no room for argument, “What’s somethin’ even a dumb pilot can manage? Egan!” He yelled as the Lieutenant Commander approached them at a jog, his dark face the picture of rage for the men in his care being further hurt. “Out in ten.”

“Not gonna happen, still got supplies to distribute-“ Egan was visibly inscenced.

“-one more pass on my plane and we’re not gettin’ up. Look at that back wheel” Cleven replied, nodding at the deflating tire. “Hand me your shit, what’re we supplyin?”

“Aren’t you queasy for needles?” Egan balked, finding time for teasing despite himself.

“Hand me the damn syrettes.” Cleven stuck his hand out.

“You're under Candy’s orders.” Egan stipulated, pointing to Maureen and Cleven nodded.

“Yup, and we leave in ten.”

“Okey Buck, go, go, go.”

The nurses that had gone before them had tagged and labeled each, making it easy for Maureen and Major Cleven to squat along the rows and complete what help could be given. Her other companions were doing the same, each staggered at a few yards and assisted by Corpsmen and pharmacists. And despite the tension from the strafing and the dismal prospect of having to leave so many behind, the hum of chatter soon picked up again on the beach.

“Shit, shit, shit, no-I hate needles!” Marty, eighteen years old but with eyes that had seen a little too much, bore his dressing with tired stoicism until Cleven pulled out the morphine syrette.

“Son,” Gale murmured with barely concealed amusement, “your side looks like a bear cub teethed on it, you’ll be fine. And this’ll help.”

“Don’t ‘son me’ you baby faced glamor boy.” Marty spat back, marine corps superiority coursing through his admittedly impressive veins.

Gale was midway through a good natured snicker at Marty’s venom when the heavy shock of lobbed mortars began to thud the beach again. “Jesus.” the Major sounded more annoyed than surprised and had the wherewithal to place a restraining hand on Marty’s chest as the kid began to scramble up in panic, displacing Maureen’s dressing on his ribs.

“Cleven, they’re chewin’ up our strip!” Demarco yelled to them from the cockpit and sure enough, craters were beginning to form at the end of their taxi-able stretch of beach.

“Don’t leave me! Don’t leave Major!” Marty suddenly clutched at Cleven and the Major had to wrench his arm free. “Calm down, private, you’re on a stretcher.” he then ducked his head as he moved round to seize the poles, “And if there’s one thing you should know,” he went on in a low murmur just for Marty’s benefit, “it’s that Doc Egan doesn’t waste his stretchers on dead men.”

Carrying Marty’s stretcher to the plane was Maureen’s last jog down the beach. She ran up the cargo ramp and Cleven was after her, handing over the task of racking the private into a bunk to one of the nurses before sternly ordering a path for himself through the crowded belly up to his cockpit. Demarco had the full radio system on, the better to communicate with the nursing personnel as they prepared for take off, and everyone aboard could hear his exasperated greeting as his reckless officer took his seat.

“You really game enough to try to get this Goony off the ground with less than a thousand feet of strip?” Benny’s broadcasted doubt made most nurses pause in their work and Maureen met Andy’s eye from the third bunk halfway along the plane wall.

“I thought he said that’s why they have co-pilots.” Andy joked to her quietly.

“Mm,” she agreed mischievously, “I guess co-pilots are one thing, co-Clevens are another.”

“Should find a way to mass produce.” Andy sighed, “War would be over in five seconds.”

Gale Cleven hadn’t even refuted Demarco’s concern verbally and already the crew shrugged it off, if Major Cleven couldn’t get them off Hell Island then no one could, and that was that.

“John Egan, get your ass onboard, it’s wheels up.” Cleven’s yell out the window blasted through the radio, too, and the girls grinned at each other -Major Egan wasn’t one to get bossed about. But, as if to challenge everything they knew about life and their own superior, mere seconds later, John Egan was hopping up into the belly of Cleven’s plane with his empty sack dangling and sweaty hair in disarray. “We’ll be back Kenny!” he yelled to the young pharmacist’s mate left on the sand as the cargo door was hastily wrenched shut by Brady.

“Honey I’m home.” Egan yelled up to the front and Demarco’s snicker echoed along the walls of the tin belly.

“Everybody stow your gear,” Cleven’s order came through, the pounding vibration of nearby mortars shuddering the plane even more than the engine’s revving, “we’re gettin’ outta here now. S’gonna be bumpy.”

“That’ll be one word for it.” Demarco snarked, “Death by bumps.”

The human cargo in the plane, those not groaning or insensible, let up a unanimous chuckle. It helped to have been to hell and back, a quick death as a plane failed to get air and plowed instead into a sand bank was hardly the worst prospect these men had faced.

“Believe, Benny, believe.” Maureen could hear Cleven’s soft smile in his voice as the wheels began to roll.

Brady, their engineer, navigator and the lone crewman besides the pilots aboard this transport, kindly manhandled Maureen to a seat between his legs on the rattling floor beside Egan’s built-in desk, his hand fisted in the back of her jumpsuit collar like she was a kitten. They kicked their legs out together and braced as they gained speed and the plane began to jostle into the milder craters at an ever more intense pace.

Shell fragments made a series of charming bangs off the side of the wing nearest her and Maureen could hear Brady whispering behind her in repetition “God spare the oxygen, God spare the oxygen, God spare-“

“50-“ Demarco’s countdown was unfortunately broadcasting like some morbid game announcer and Maureen could see Egan’s jaw ticking in stress under the harsh overhead lights.

There was a terrible blast in front, the sound of shattering glass or metal and a jarring shudder went through the plane, “Damnnit.” Cleven hissed but the acceleration remained.

“You hit?”

“No. Read me, Benny-“

“80-“ Demarco obligingly resumed counting.

“C’mon Buck.” breath gusting on Maureen’s neck behind her, as Brady had begun to direct his prayers to the Major now and as if in answer, the stomach swooping feeling of flight took over them seconds later as the cargo plane let out a mighty roar of strained endurance and lifted with a wobble that had more than a few bunks puking their guts out. There’d be over five hours to clean the plane floor and attend to housekeeping if they could just level out and stay up long enough to get out of range.

Down the way from them Egan was still seated, one hand holding aloft a not yet hung plasma bottle and the other gripping a support bar. But his head was starting to nod like a dancer keeping pace with the band’s ever growing tempo. The engines had a beat, if you’d been personal with a plane long enough to pick it up, and Maureen paid attention to Egan’s stippling fingers on the cross bar as they mounted and mounted, little bursts of enemy gunnery causing a comparatively mild wobble to the plane body every few seconds. She figured a veteran like Brady would know when it was safe to let her go; judging by the grip on her collar he was still highly dubious of their lasting success.

“Fighters, -everyone brace.” Cleven’s voice warned about as cooly as if he was pointing out the drip of ice cream slipping down a cone.

“Ice man.” Andy praised from his bunk to the agreement of his companions as the fighter zipped by without so much as a shudder from Cleven’s steering.

Plenty of the passing bullets had punctured the belly and one man got a direct hit. “Candy!” Egan commanded from his place checking the unfortunate man’s pulse, “Go remind Buck that we haven’t got the oxygen to go full bomber, he’s gotta keep low and -Candy! When ya come back, time to start throwin’ on blankets. Brady, get our pumps going. This is as steady as it’ll get.”

“You got it, commander.”

More than a little sure her mission was more provoking than necessary, Maureen still obeyed and followed Brady up the length of the plane and towards his electrical station, then past it to poke her head between the pilot’s seats.

“Well, well, this is a pleasant surprise, getting car sick, kiddo?” Demarco joked, “Hey, I get it, I’d find it hell back there with no windows to look out.”

Their front window was partially shattered and the metal on Cleven’s side was gnarled.

“Those mortars obligingly made a few.” Maureen joked back.

“Anybody hurt?” Cleven asked, and to her surprise, he turned from his panel to look at her with unmasked concern.

A joke was ready made there about everyone quite literally being shot to hell but she sensed he’d not appreciate it and following some uninterpreted impulse of desiring his good opinion, she hardly wished to repay his earnestness with flippancy. “Only one.”

“How bad?”

“He looked -dead.” Maureen admitted. She hadn’t gotten a good look at the man moving past him but she’d seen Egan’s treatment of the body and it wasn’t promising.

Cleven’s jaw worked overtime at the news and something snapped in his mouth, followed by a soft curse from lips too full and soft to always be so stern. Maureen thought he may have broken a tooth with all that tension but he spit out two halves of a blooded toothpick instead. It fell to his pant leg.

“Major Cleven, sir, you’re bleeding.” It had drawn Maureen’s attention to his wet lap.

“That’s what I said.” Demarco agreed.

“It’s somebody else’s.” Cleven shook his head.

“You know if you pass out on me-“ Demarco warned, completely ignoring Cleven’s denial.

“-that’s why we’ve got co-pilots.” Cleven finished for him with a maddening smirk that made Benny Demarco throw his hands up.

“Can you check him?” he asked, “I mean -you are a nurse!”

“What? Hell no!” Major Cleven spooked for the first time all day at the suggestion, glancing quickly from his reddened trousers, behind him to Maureen Kendeigh, and back again. “I’m fine.” he declared in a firm tone that dettered her almost as much as the challenge of getting over the instruments and a steering column to pull down his pants and look. “Ensign Kendeigh, was there a purpose to your visit?” He redirected, resolutely ignoring Demarco’s unabated concerns.

“Yes sir,” she replied, meekly as she could, “Doc Egan asked me to remind you that you’re not flying a bomber. To mind the oxygen, sir. And that it’s cold.”

Cleven let out a mirthless little laugh. “We’re full of holes Ensign, of course it’s cold.”

“I know sir.”

“Yeah, ‘course you know,” his eyes lightened for a moment and Maureen almost deluded herself he was being chummy when he murmured next, “you’re smart like that. Tell the Lieutenant Commander I’ll keep her nice and low, so low the Jap navy gunners can blow the floor out without a sweat.”

“Much obliged, Major.” Maureen chirped, pleased to have been trusted with a bit of morbid humor -it was the truest test of being taken seriously a woman could hope for in the service.

“Thank you, Ensign.” And with that she was dismissed.

By the time she got to the belly again her assigned job of doling out blankets had long been accomplished by her fellows. Brady had the place lit up like an operating theater and there was the added drone of medical equipment added to Cleven’s engines. She liked to think of them as his now, Maureen realized, a tiredness seeping in now that the rush was over, now there was just six hours of the same until they touched down again in safety. His engines stayed with them, consistent, steady, dependable yet a little absent, just like the man himself.

“Major Cleven said he’ll keep her low, Doc.” Maureen reported dutifully but whatever humor Egan once held when sending her to the cockpit was now gone, a bloody mess on his hands as he and Ensign Dormer worked over a head wound.

“Good.” Egan gritted out, “I need a monitor on vitals and I need new gloves, c’mon Candy, c’mon!”

The hours passed like this, no way of telling time in the artificially lit tube of metal. Some men needed a cup of water and a kind smile, others required every bit of grit and intelligence to keep even the faintest pulse discernible above the hum. When one of them passed away in the anonymity of the top bunk, Egan didn’t bother to cover his face, the man looked to be sleeping and it suited the morale better if his fellows were not disillusioned on that score.

It was impossible not to think for a split second on the unfairness of it all -live to be finally evacuated and only die before getting safe. To think how someone else less tore up might’ve been given that bunk and survived the trip.

“Can’t dwell on it.” Ida Brady, their headmistress back in Manila, had said -and she had been right. But seeing her brother Lt. Brady cross himself now in recognition of a soul passed did something to Maureen’s own spirit, a grieving sort of fury possessed her which matched Egan’s own as they worked on the next unsalvageable man until he became a likely contender for seeing his wife and kids again.

She had been up for nineteen hours, flying for ten of those, nursing for four. She was bone tired and yet there was always someone to be tended and the thought of leaving one of these poor men without even the slightest of their needs met felt impossible. Maureen didn’t even think to pause or lag in her expertise, neither did the nurses around her and up there at the front somewhere, Cleven’s eyes were sharp and focused as ever, she knew it, and knowing it brought a calm over her that made her sympathize with Egan’s own superstitious preference for the man.

Brady came through with coffee, an abnormal duty he picked up as a result of trusting no one else with the process or the electrical requirements to make it. “Figured our pilots could use it.” he explained before passing out a passel of paper cups to the girls filled with the peppy stuff, belying his practical excuse, before taking two to the cockpit.

He came back out with a funny look on his face- “Benny says he needs a pan.”

“What the hell for?” Egan balked.

“Or a condom.” Brady dutifully amended the petition.

“I repeat -what the hell for?”

“They’ve drank a lotta coffee sir.”

“Any of you fellas got condoms?” Egan asked his patients with a laugh and got a series of predictable replies. “Gale Cleven sure as hell don’t.”

There were light hearted moments like that, many of them in fact, but six hours of flying with wounds as bad as the ones they were tending was no joke, there were bits of laughter and there were times of quiet and there were restless sleepers whose terrors not even morphine could dim.

“Forty minutes out.” Major Cleven had gone quiet over the coms for so long it was like hearing from God again when he came on, gentle and steady.

Those they couldn’t get comfortable were at the height of their groaning as the cold and the endless buzz got to them. Helplessly the nurses offered pillows and water and irrigated the burns with saline and checked needle positioning. Maureen had taken to charting, something too often neglected in high stress environments but something that proved terribly crucial as soon as they landed and handed over their charges to a new set of professionals. On the left side of the plane she held one man’s wrist after another and noted their pulse. On the right side she did the same, one man’s left hand after another, wedding band or sans wedding band, in her notes it was only ever:

“94, 57, 88, 91, 63, 82”

The lights had been dimmed, hopes were some rest could be gotten by those in any shape to manage sleep. It made for a drowsy atmosphere, only the flashlight in her teeth illuminating the veins under her fingers and her co-workers faces, Egan’s face was a shiny mess of freckles in the torch light despite the chill, exhaustion seeping out of him but not a hint shown in his workmanship. It made the dull chorus of groans in the dark all the more ominous and Brady remarked to Smith on one pass that maybe they should have brought a record player.

“Twenty minutes out.” Maureen and every other soul on board was living for those little updates from Cleven.

Men told to hang in there and not die before they could be gotten to surgery suddenly had a goal in mind and the suspense was growing brutal. Stashed and stowed, secured and checked, landing preparations were already done and it was last minute tending before taking seats. Maureen found herself nearly piddling by one young private, trying to soothe him with a washcloth as sepsis fever wracked him when over the intercom came the oddest lulling hum, like a far off jazz intro.

It was too soft initially to be recognized but the surety picked up, something about the tone unmistakably belonging to their pilot, his hums about as characteristic of him as his laconic speech.

“Is that whadda friend we have in Jesus?” Demarco’s voice overtopped the gentle melody.

John Egan was wheezing in a chuckle beside her as Maureen shook her own head in disbelief.

“No,” Gale murmured, humming paused only briefly, “it’s ‘Leaning on the everlasting arms’ -you fish eater.”

“You gotta be jokin’.” Benny was wheezing too but Cleven was back to his gentle humming, words actually forming this time and filling the tired plane with a timbre that could put Bing Crosby out of a job.

“What have I to dread, what have I to fear

Leaning on the everlasting arms?

I have blessed peace with my Lord so near

Leaning on the everlasting arms”

It worked, the sickening drop in elevation was -if not noticed- bravely pushed aside for a hymn sing, Brady leading from the back and Cleven from the front. And for a brief moment, men from Kansas to Florida, Oregan to Rhode Island, strapped in a flying coffin of flickering souls, were seated back in the pews of their childhood, trusting something larger than themselves. Even if that something was Gale Cleven’s steady hands or the justness of a cause worth dying for or God Almighty, it was something big and above the pain of right now.

“Leaning, leaning

Safe and secure from all alarms

Leaning, leaning

Leaning on the everlasting arms”

The Navy station at Gaum had a runway, in fact there were five Cleven could have picked at whim, and there was no feeling so beautifully civilized and sure as the smooth roll of plane tires on asphalt after what they’d just left. “Flaps at quarter!” and they were slowing, the deflated back wheel only causing some slight disturbance, and then they were stopped.

That bizarre stillness settled again as the engines were cut. Egan gave Maureen a smile so soft and telling that her heart about seized in realization -they’d managed it. “Well that’s us.” he repeated for the second time that day, voice gone raspy with cigarettes and fatigue. “Welcome to American soil, boys.”

There were so many lights outside the cargo door, searing white flashes in the nighttime, jeeps and ambulances and all manner of medical personnel at the ready, it was overwhelming in the exact opposite way the beach at Iwo had been. Maureen hopped down onto the tarmac with Ensign Mann, ready and prepared to stay with her charges until the transition could be made. Clipboard in hand and kit on her back, she’d go in with her select five until they’d been admitted and charted meticulously in the various wards.

“How’s it feel to make history, Miss?!” -some of those lights, Maureen realized with a dull throb behind her eyes, were flashbulbs. Journalists were thick as thieves, snapping and hollering, others respectfully keeping a distance, “You're the first woman to step foot in a combat zone-“ Maureen kept her hand on her stretcher even as she watched Cleven limping over to a jeep and piling in after Demarco. Her mouth set in a sour line of suspicion regarding his claims of being unscathed. He’d be in interrogation and she in the wards for the next hour, she’d have to find out later.

A couple of hours later John Egan was sat with Captain Crosby in the administration office, nothing but a small alcove at the front of the ward, his legs spread wide in his chair and good scotch whisky being slurped from a cleverly injected orange while reviewing the charts. Croz was a whizz at this, meticulous and careful to a fault and John adored him for it because men who gave a damn were scarce after this many years of grueling loss and, also, because it allowed himself to wind down sooner than he was technically free to do so.

“Two men lost, that’s -that’s still good odds.” Crosby couldn’t manage an upbeat tone, he felt those two lives as deeply as Egan did, but facts were facts and over all, this experimental mission had proven beyond successful. Now to tell that to the families of the two men now being carted to the morgue instead of surgery and salt baths.

“Yeah, my girls were Trojans out there.” Bucky sucked his teeth, the squint in his eyes beginning to relax with a boozy sort of calmness. “Speakin’ of Trojans! —Candy!”

Maureen approached the little alcove at a tired gait, not above reprimanding Egan for his loud voice with all those occupied beds just feet away. “It’s late, Commander.” she reminded with hinting softness that only made him crane his head back and grin sloppily at her.

“It is, it is.” he agreed, reaching up to pat her arm and she squinted at the smell of whiskey, Crosby’s sudden and transparent busyness with the charts confirmed her suspicions. “You should get some shut eye, Candy! Back at it tomorrow.”

“So should you.” she hinted kindly.

“Mm,” he hummed in negative, “apparently my ‘specialty’ is needed elsewhere before then.”

“And so the booze?” she struck back and Crosby’s pen briefly dragged along his tidy line in shock at her daring.

“Steady hands, Candy darlin.” Egan responded, lifting two sticky palms up and showing, indeed, not a tremor. “I’ve got a surgery in less than an hour -working with Brady’s old sister, of all people, the one who snuck out of Manila after?- anyways, she’s 90 pounds of spit and vinegar. Starved for two years, but she takes three weeks off and a round of anti-parasitics and she’s all ‘let me back at ‘em.’ Hell of a dame. Anyway, surgery with her. I need this.”

“Well,” Maureen Kendeigh knew when to let go of a fight with a man who’d as yet never failed her or anyone else, despite his habits, “I can confirm it does nothing for your eyes bags.”

“Kiss ‘em better?”

“Not in my purview, sir.” she couldn’t help but smile, “Perhaps lieutenant Brady will be obliging?”

“She scares me.” he objected.

“And I don’t?”

“Only in the ways I like, Candy Darlin’.” he insited.

“Ah Major!” Crosby’s strained greeting drew their attention away from this over rehearsed banter and Egan straightened up fast upon sight of his friend.

“Buck!”

“John.” Gale Cleven was in the same uniform he’d been in for hours, flight jacket undone and scarf hanging loose. He must have come straight from interrogation and standing in front of the administrator's desk he was turning his cover over and over in his hands. Maureen was certain that were she to devote two hours a day to brushing her hair she could never bernish it to the golden brilliance that twelve hours of flight-sweat gave his. On a more concerning note, his was pale as death except for those lips. “I came to check in on everybody. Load of journalists out there.” He thumbed back behind him at the public area, “Mostly curious about you, Ensign.”

“Historical.” Egan affirmed and sent Maureen a sly look as she sighed over the fuss being made of her mission.

“I’m one of twenty.” she reminded.

“I hope you were nice about her.” Egan goaded his buddy and to her confusion, Gale flinched as if that were a remarkably successful mode of attack.

“O-of course.” he frowned severely and Maureen had a desperate urge to thumb those lines away. “I told them the truth.” he defended, mildly heated.

“Which is?” Egan was enjoying this and neither Maureen nor Harry Crosby could seem to puzzle out why.

“They did remarkably.” Cleven didn’t budge.

“Better than you thought.” Egan prodded.

“Yeah. Admittedly, far better than I thought. Jeeze, John.”

“But were you nice about her?” Egan insisted.

“What?”

“You said they were particular about Candy.” Egan said, “So what did you say?”

Maureen grew concerned that with such a level of fluster in the Major’s face not a stitch of blood seemed able to raise a blush.

“How ‘bout you read it in the paper.” Gale replied, coolly mean before clearing his throat and straightening up, back in possession of himself. “I came to see how many -how’d we do?”

“Twenty eight.” Egan confirmed.

“Outta thirty?” Cleven asked for confirmation.

“Yes sir.” Crosby answered him.

“Alright.” The Major accepted that, hat still whirling in his hands, a strange contrast to his perfectly contained posture. It drew Maureen’s eye to his hips and that deep red stain running down his pant leg.

“How’s your hip Major?” she asked, seeking to break the silence before Egan did so with some new and regrettable subject.

That did bring a flush and a sheen of sweat broke out on a face Maureen knew would be feverishly hot were she to touch it. He looked peeky, truth be told. “It’s fine, ma’am.”

“Hold up,” Egan stood from his chair and leaned over the desk to glare blearily at Gale’s trousers. “You're hit.”

“It’s a scratch.”

“Scratches don’t keep bleedin’ like that.“

“Well, mine do.”

“Hey, I don’t go tellin’ you how to fly your planes-“

“-you do though.”

“-so you don’t go tellin’ me what’s a scratch and what’s a wound. It’s still drippin’, that makes it a wound.”

Cleven moved his boot to the side impatiently and only succeeded in proving his friend’s point as a line of fresh blood smeared the white tile. “I was gonna just -“

“-What?”

“-Clean it in the shower.” Cleven sighed, defeated but with an edge that suggested he might yet do it .

“Oh, just gonna rinse mortar fragments outta of your thigh, yeah?”

“It’s not that bad. Dunno if it really got hit.” He protested, “Might be scratched.”

“Or you might have a piece of your instrument panel snuggled up to an artery.” John affirmed sarcastically. “We’re goin’ up again tomorrow. I need you fit, I need you good.”

“I am.”

“You’re gonna get checked.” Egan commanded and Gale looked back at the double doors leading to freedom and a pack of journalists and sighed. “You’re on the ground now, flyboy, I call the shots.”

“Ok.” Cleven mumbled, “If you’re so goddamn eager to pants me, do it.”

“I am, I am but I’ve got even better things to do.” Egan rounded the desk and flung an arm around Gale in parting, bringing him in close despite Cleven’s stiff necked antipathy that hid only the deepest seated endearment, “Like putting a left lung back where it should be and trying to get Lt. Brady to smile at me.” Egan expounded, letting go and beginning to actually leave, much to Cleven's sudden concern, “Which is, naturally, on the left -the left lung, that’s where it goes.” Egan went on.

“Wait, aren’t you gonna-?” Cleven called after him.

“Pantsing is more of Ensign Kendeigh’s purview.” John replied cheerfully. “Don’t look so appalled, I'm sure she’s seen smaller.”

“John!” Major Cleven and Maureen both inflected his name like twin, scandalized parrots.

“You deserve each other.” John laughed, “Ensign, do your duty.”

“This is the kinda behavior that has you gettin’ write ups for bein’ a terror to your nurses!” Gale growled after him in remonstrance but it did nothing to slow Egan’s tactical withdrawal.

“Bulshit, everybody on this ward loves me!” John dared to claim even as he was berated on his way out by more than a few wounded marines for being a little too jovial at two in the morning.

Cleven didn’t wait for the doors to fully close on Egan or for Maureen to collect her professional demeanor and clipboard before he was leaning over Captain Crosby at his desk, large hands splayed on the fresh paperwork, assuming the pose of a supplicant before a lawyer. “Harry, Captain, do me a favor this once and take a look fo-“

“-Major Cleven sir,” Harry Crosby interjected levelly and with the utmost respect, “I’m an administrator.”

Maureen composed herself, the sight of this stoic man losing a grip on himself due to the prospect of lost modesty was surprising, it was also motivating to find her own professionalism and put him at ease. “Major, if you’d follow me?” she nodded her head towards the ward and started clopping down the dim aisle toward one of the last empty beds. He didn’t need to lay down for it but she needed her instrument tray, an isolated light and, if his shyness was so severe, drawing the sectioned curtains would hardly be amiss.

When she arrived and turned round to instruct him, he was obediently there to obey. Something about that dogged respect for authority he possessed and his compliance with her own profession filled her with an odd protectiveness and she motioned him into the space gently, tugging the curtain closed behind him. He was taller than she realized, made more apparent as he took the initiative and tugged off the bulky weight of his flight jacket, methodically laying it out in a half fold on the bed, nothing but a lean line of him left in olive green.

Lanky, her mother would call him, a long drink of water. He looked all of twenty four, suddenly, soft and in need of a meal. “Your leg, yes?” she reaffirmed, jotting it down in the chart. She had found that men found it easier to talk of injuries when she wasn’t making eye contact.

“Yes.” His voice was low as the grave and hushed too, “And -I think maybe my hip.”

Maureen’s eyes flicked to the place in question, recalling how she had suspected his lap in general on the plane. “Right.” she made the customary jot down of the detail and then an arguably unnecessary note beside it, the longer to give him a chance to cool himself. “Your pants Major, if you would.” she filled in the date and the time, cursory information so as not to be idle while he undid his belt, the clank of the flat uniform clasp deafening in the space where he seemed to hold his breath.

She was used to discerning the moment when it was safe to look up. Often there was a brief period after the sound of pants hitting the floor where one might have the misfortune of catching a man adjusting himself to a preferred side. She was prepared to give him that moment in peace but his voice called her to attention.

“Is this?-“ he didn’t finish his sentence and she looked up to see his vague gesture as he stood in briefs and boots, jacket hung open, too.

“Yes I think we can manage with those on.” she smiled reassuringly, discerning his query. His skivvies were blood stained on the right and clinging to him but the wounds appeared to be above and below their coverage, “I’ve always got scissors if need be.”

“Scissors.” He repeated with a nod, teeth savagely dug into his lip.

“Jacket off, this could get messy.” She ordered and something about her decisiveness seemed to soothe him like she knew it would, he shrugged it off gracefully and laid it beside the sheepskin, and yanked at his tie to relive his bobbing throat. “Please, sit Major.”

He sat down on the bed, a little stiffly, and she reached above her to turn on the large overhead lamp, shining it down on them both and in the harsh glow of it she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen something so beautiful as Gale Cleven’s blushing face fixed upturned towards her own.

“You’ve lost a lot of blood, looks like.” she attempted to make conversation and got a mere nod instead, once she stepped nearer, his eyes devoutly focused themselves somewhere to the right of them, on the floor.

She rinsed the area first, wiping away the crusted blood until his smooth, lightly haired skin came into view, little jagged tears visible in it with small fragments embedded. It wasn’t bad at all, but deep enough to keep it bleeding.

The touch of cool water made him jolt in surprise. What it didn’t do was make him shrink. She saw his hands curl, white knuckled around the mattress pad beside him as she gently dug out the metal, and she had a suspicion it wasn’t from the pain.

As unabashedly as her profession had taught her, Maureen tugged up his boxer leg until she was satisfied she’d uncovered the last little shard and did what was necessary, reaching atop the wet fabric and moving his heavy member up and away. He about bucked off the table at that mere touch of positioning and Maureen backed away out of pure animal instinct to avoid getting reflexively kneed.

“I'm sorry!“ he rushed out, his chest suddenly tight like an elephant were sat on it and his blood thudded in his ears, “Ensign, I apologize, I don’t know why-“

“It’s fine.” she insisted, stunned and pitying at the realization she probably was the first woman to touch him this way. To touch him at all. “I’m sorry this requires it.” she admitted.

“Please don’t -“ he took a large breath and began again, actually managing to meet her eyes out of sheer willpower, “-I’m the one who’s sorry. You’re doing your job, i don’t know why I get- it’s unprofessional of me, I'm sorry.” he repeated firmly and straightened his spine as if he could discipline a most human reaction away.

“It’s not at all uncommon.” She whispered, feeling compelled to be unprofessional herself if only to make him stop berating himself, “We nurses deal with this all the time, quite normal after combat, particularly.” Maureen paused for a moment and weighed the joke on the tip of her tongue as she dabbed iodine on a cotton ball and prepared to go back into the dreaded zone of his thigh crease, “It’s to be expected, the manual says; your blood is quite literally UP.”

Stood there in suspense between his legs with the iodine swab waiting mid air, Maureen waited until she saw a flicker of amusement twinkle his sad expression and a snicker escape that sober mouth. “Tell me about it.” he rasped, exasperated at his own body. “Every damn time.”

“That’s what I’m doing,” she teased, bringing the swab down and ignoring the sizable jolt his whole body and appendage gave at this dab to his thigh or the way his belly caved in with his deep intake of breath, “I’m telling you it’s normal.”

“Damn, you are sweet.” He declared suddenly with gut wrenching emphaticism that finally broke Mauren’s own precarious composure. “Not just to me,” he hastened to add in response to her melting expression so close to him, “to everybody out there. You were incredible today.” He paused and Maureen swallowed hard and tried with great difficulty to find the capability to thank him for the compliment. Before she could, he added with youthful honesty, “But you are -sweet to me.”

“Right back at you. Major.” she insisted, daring to stay that close and look back into those eyes she thought would be her last sight on earth for a second there on the beach earlier. His shuddering breath suggested he was recalling it, too.

“It’s nice to have friends in the crucible with ya.” he explained and Maureen felt her heart glow.

“Your poor hands.” she whispered, dropping her swab to gather his shaky hands in hers, the large palms engulfed her own even as she tried to cradle them. Never a hint of this anxiety while flying them, yet here he was shivering with it afterwards. “Probably blood loss.” she gave him an out, some men weren’t ready for talk of flight exhaustion or strained nerves.

“Then why’s it wasting all I’ve got to spare on…that?” He actually managed to joke back and Maureen actually allowed herself to laugh -god help her, she laughed at a man’s joke about an ill timed erection.

“John would say something about hope springing eternal, right about now.” she wheezed even as he groaned, his hands still placidly jittering in her grip, “I enjoyed your singing, by the way.”

“Mm, yeah, well,” he cleared his throat, “you didn’t see the hole in the wing or the busted flaps all the way home. That landing didn’t promise to be as pretty as it was.”

“But it was pretty.”

“Yeah. Not too bad.”

“A gorgeous landing.” she insisted and his eyes started to water under the harsh light. Impulsively, and in an act of unprofessionalism she would have never recognized before today, Maureen Kendeigh drew his hands close to her chest and pressed a kiss to his lined forehead. The way he sagged against her in a shuddering lunge suggested her impulse was a good one. “Doc Egan insists whiskey is good for this.” she whispered into hair that smelled so strongly of his musk and the wool of his cap she about buckled from it.

“Mm, but is it g—good for him?” he responded rhetorically, a gust of moist breath against the open throat of her flight jacket, his usual irony still remained with only a hiccup of nerves interrupting his speech. Maureen wasn’t sure anymore, what saved a life, well, it had saved a life, so why demonize it? She was here to force things to keep living in environments so hostile wildflowers gave up. Some men needed their booze and some men needed to be held in the hospital ward at two in the morning until their shakes calmed. As if he could read her mind, she felt Gale turn his head to the side a little for breath, face still pressed to her chest as he uttered quietly, “This is working. For me.”

“Good.” Nose buried in his hair she took a few measured breaths herself, feeling that odd calm still radiating off him, even as his body was shot to hell and giving off the overtaxed jitters. “You bring people calm, you know that, Major? It’s why Egan picked you for this, deep down, you make a plane load of dying men hang in there. That’s a gift. But when you’ve got a cup you keep pouring out of, it’s bound to go empty. Gotta refill yourself, sometimes, yes?”

“I thought this was blood loss.” Gale replied softly and it took Maureen a beat to recognize the sad mischief in his blue eyes.

“Alright. I’ll speak for myself.”She conceded with a huff.

“You must be exhausted.” he noted, suddenly as sober as they come.

“A little tired.” she admitted, questioning the way she instinctively tightened her hold on the back of his neck as he stiffened to pull away. Entirely unprofessional, she wasn’t a medicine spoon or a needle, he had every right to pull away.

“So what would fill your cup back up?” he asked in that low voice that sent a million varied undertones crashing through her, whether he intended it or not.

Too tired to be much more than plainly honest, or as honest as a woman should be with a half undressed patient cradled to her chest, Maureen admitted the half of it, which in many ways was the whole, “This is working for me.”she repeated his own words to him and watched them take effect.

Like a sudden reanimation had occurred, Gale Cleven untangled their hands with emphatic surety and then, in an act of kindness Maureen never expected, brought them to her shoulders and tugged her down for a solid embrace. “A hug and a nap then.” He prescribed, his solid shoulder beneath her cheek and his legs parted for her to step between. Only the bandages kept him from bleeding further on her.

“Not a nap,” she smiled, an inexplicable warmth and calmness flooding through her in his hold, his back was broad and lean under her hands, “we should go to sleep.”

“No such thing as going to sleep in the military, Ensign.” Gale murmured, “Sleep -that’s what happens when your mama tucks you in and you’ve got a whole night to waste. Naps. That’s what we take.”

“Alright, a nap, and a hug.”

“Alright.”

“You know,” Maureen dared with a little smile as some part of her slotted back in place and gave her the boldness to be a little too much, “there’s this thing people came up with ages ago where you hug and take naps at the same time.”

Pink cheeked but with a jaw clench that had defeated warzones, Gale Cleven pulled his head away and gave her a heavy look of admonishment, “Marriage.” he stated unamused.

Well, she had meant sex, and she wanted it, always had after danger -but Cleven had a point too.

“Uh, yes, that’s the most common-“

“-If I were to marry you, Maureen Kendeigh,” his voice took on a teasing lilt that was somehow more devastating than all his commanding earnestness, “there’d be no nap taking.”

“Oh.” A single utterance was about all she could articulate in the face of that smirk and gentle refusal. Both flattering and painful all at once. “Well, that’s not for us then.”

“No.” he pondered, full lips twitching downwards in disappointment, “At least, sounds like a decidedly post-war endeavor. No naps.” he clarified.

“Oh -yes.” she caught on, well used to the code of superstition all around her that didn’t allow men to spell out any sort of lasting, long term hope. “A postwar endeavor.” she agreed, never having heard marriage so smartly categorized.

“Uhuh,” his hands trailed up from her ribs to squeeze the sore muscles of her deltoid, “for now -naps. Back up tomorrow.”

“Alright.” she agreed, stepping a small distance back and looking him over, this time his presence didn’t shrink, in fact if anything he expended in the small room and it made her chest ache, “You're alright?” she made sure one last time.

He held his palms flat up and Maureen could attest they were indeed steady, terribly large, too, and his watch on his wrist was careening towards three o’clock. “Looks like it.” he rasped. “But you’re in charge here. Can I go, Ensign?”

Regretfully Maureen nodded, “You’re dismissed, Major.”

When he stood up from the bed he was by necessity in her space, looking down at her rather fearlessly as he yanked up the waist of his trousers and gathered the belt closed around his lean waist. Maureen felt her cheeks burn but couldn’t look away, if she were to glance away from those eyes she might see something even more tempting before he’d secured the fabric.

“Got any more duties after this?” he asked, breaking the moment as he bent to arrange his trouser hems over his boots.

“No.”

“Then I’ll walk you to your billet.”

“For naps.” she clarified cheekily.

“For naps.” he agreed with mirthful vehemence, finger pointed at her with almost paternal caution to not push his patience.

“Do you want your shell fragments?” she rattled them in their dish, the pieces she'd pried from the shallow muscle of his hip.

Cleven paused with his hand on the dividing curtain, shaking his head in amusement, “Give ‘em to Egan,” he suggested with a wicked little smirk, “knowing him he’ll make a talisman out of them or something equally useful.”

Hope y’all enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s life blood, lemme head your thots or screams! Xoxo

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added for my MOTA fics)

@stylespresleyhearted

@ab4eva

@earth-to-lottie

@suraemoon

@blurredcolour

@steph-speaks

@crazymadpassionatelove

@rubyfruitjungle

@taestrwbrry

@storysimp

@javden

@sexualparkour

@jointherebellion215

@sunny747

@ask-you-what-sir

@xxanaduwrites

@pretty4u

@yorkshirekiwi

@waitedforlove743

@elvismylove04

#mota fanfiction #mine #archive #friends in the crucible #Gale Cleven x OC #Buck Cleven x OC #Buck Cleven #austin butler #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler imagine #masters of the air #Bucky Egan #doc Egan #Maureen Kendeigh #iwo jima #hbo war #john egan #callum turner #Callum Turner fanfiction

165 notes · View notes