#he gets to that point in life where he can finally settle down after everything

[everwisp]

#a3! #they ALL would but who is most likely too hmmm #sakuya or itaru maybe #Sakuya cause our sunshine is getting more family yknow and is starting his next chapter in life and ahhh #Itaru would laugh cry yknow #like in a ‘oh my god I cant believe I’m marrying you this is happening omg’ way #and his partner would call him stupid and he’d just give a wobbly grin and be like ‘stupid for you’ GOD LET ME PUNCH HIM #ok hear me out but what if Chikage tho #he gets to that point in life where he can finally settle down after everything #and just seeing his partner down the aisle mans would be overcomes with emotion me thinks #i mean he’d try to hold it back but would fail a little #and he’s just try to hide his tears by pressing his forehead against his partner’s temple/forehead and facing away from the crowd #what a sight 🥲 #I actually don’t know who to vote for skgndkf

[daycourtofficial]

I am ash from your fire

Summary: Eris retires after a long night to find his mate, the princess of the night court, in his chambers upset.

Author’s note: Rhys is a jackass in this one. Honestly this was supposed to be Eris comforting reader but idk how it flipped at some point and sometimes you just gotta go with where the story takes you 🤷🏼‍♀️ also I’m headcannoning that Eris reads anything and everything he can get his hands on

(1k celebration masterlist 🍾)

Eris feels his shoulders sag ever so slightly, allowing the formalities of his stature to soften slightly as he moves further into his private chambers.

The only place in the Forest House he can at least somewhat relax. The hues of brown coating the walls, the paintings of hounds and forests covering the walls have been a comfort since his youth.

It was one of the few places Beron never entered. The High Lord would never sully himself by entering into his children’s chambers. No, he’d have word sent to them so they can come to him.

Eris walks towards the bookshelves, long fingers softly gliding over the edges of the leather bindings. His personal library was extensive - books of maps, histories, biographies, all subjects expected of a first-born heir. But also books of poetry, fantasy, and intrigue.

Eris was always a voracious reader, that need for escapism a constant in his life. His hands move on their own accord, searching for something to lose himself in when his ears perk up at a noise in his bedchambers. Unsheathing a dagger from his hip, he moves towards the room, seeing a shadow of movement underneath the door.

He reaches the door, slowly moving his hand to the handle. Once it’s in his hand, he turns it quickly, throwing open the door and pouncing on top of the person in his chambers.

His dagger is held at their throat, determined to find out who sent the risk before disposing of them. A laugh bursts out from under him, his dagger so close to their throat it knicks their throat at their laughs.

“That’s one way to say hello.”

His grip on the dagger falters momentarily, the sweet sounds of his mate’s voice causing him to loosen his hold. He pulls the dagger back, sheathing it back into his pants.

He brushes the hair from your face, taking in your amused look, his other hand going to inspect the slight knick on your throat.

“My precious fox.”

The nickname rolls off his tongue, his senses on high alert at your unexpected presence. He can sense something is off with you, and his eyes roam your body for injury.

Coming up short of any injuries sans the knick he just gave you, he sits on his haunches, grabbing your hands, helping you to sit up. You sit on your legs, keeping a tight hold on Eris’s hands, playing with his fingers.

You pull off one of his rings, sliding it on and off your own fingers, the warm metal soothing your cold hands.

He watches you for a moment, watches your fingers play with the rings he wears every day. He’s never understood your fascination with them, a nervous habit perhaps. He watches as you move the gold ring onto your thumb before pulling you into his arms. The feel of you settles him, and he can finally breathe deeply for the first time in weeks.

He holds you, pressing his face into the side of your neck, breathing in the scent of your hair. He pours what love and devotion he can down the bond, enjoying your presence before he can bring himself to ask why you’re here.

The two of you usually meet in his private cabin, miles and miles from the cruelties of the Forest House. He can’t recall if you’ve ever even been in his private chambers.

You pull back from him, shuffling around so you can sit in between his legs, back pressed to his chest. You know you have to tell him why you’re here, but you can’t look at him while you do it.

You’re not sure what you’ll find from him as you recount your tale.

You take in a breath, deciding to tell him what happened instead of letting him wait.

“Rhys found one of your letters,” you say, not able to look at him. “I was called away while I was reading one of them. It was foolish - I always hide them before leaving my room.”

Something warms in Eris’s chest at the thought of you, courts away from him, pouring over every word in the letters full of love you’d exchange between each other.

Much like he did every night.

“We got into a big fight, and he uh-“

Eris watches the tear slip out, sliding down your face.

“He told me I was no sister of his.”

Eris can’t help the snarl that comes from him, and you gingerly place a hand on his thigh, a motion he knows is grounding the both of you.

“What did his little lackeys have to say?” He spits out, unable to hide his contempt for them as he asks.

His dislike of Cassian and Azriel was no secret, but it took you a long time to coax out of him what about them he disliked.

“Truthfully, I found out how Illyrians treated females and it left a foul taste in my mouth,” he had told you once. It was all you could coax out of him, and perhaps that’s all there was to it.

At his core, Eris defined males by how they treated the females in their lives. Perhaps he assumed that Cassian and Azriel were the same as the other Illyrians and did not want to press further.

“They uh weren’t there,” you reply, “no one else was there. Perhaps he sent them all away so he could throw a fit.”

You laugh a little, thinking of just how red Rhysand’s face had gotten during your fight. You feel Eris’s head lay against your own, his fingers tangling into the strands of your hair.

“He was yelling, screaming about how I was defiling the family name by being with a Vanserra.” You sigh. “Then he began screeching about how you’re awful, you’re terrible, and ‘what about Mor’ and blah blah blah.”

“How’d you respond?” Eris asks, hands idly moving to hold onto yours in a soft grasp.

“I told him to ask Mor about what actually happened that day.”

He hums, allowing you to absentmindedly play with his fingers as you speak.

“He said that Mor would never lie to him. That she would never lie to any of us.” You blow out a breath, “then he said I had been cursed by the Mother to be mated to you.”

Eris knew the words were not your own, but the sound of them on your lips still stung deep in his chest.

“That’s when I told him to fuck off.”

Eris looks down at you as you peer back up at him, adoration, love, and a hint of sadness shines onto you through his gaze.

“We fought back and forth for a while after that. Then, after realizing I wasn’t giving up so easily, he gave me a choice.”

“My family name, my title, my claim to the throne, or you.”

Eris’s grip tightens. You two had spoken about what the worst outcomes would be if you were found out. Neither of you had ever expected Rhys to disown you.

Rhysand, who adored his little sister more than anything. Rhysand, who insisted you were an integral part of his life. Rhysand, who constantly ensured you were safe and happy.

He threw all that away the second he said you would never give up your tiara collection for Eris.

“Oh, my little fox.”

He peers down at you, your eyes wide as you peer up at him, your face upside down.

He knew he’d never get to love you wholly, unabashedly, publicly. He always knew something would come between you. He lets his gaze linger, memorizing the slope of your nose, the curve of your cheeks. His fingers move and, without his prompting, they start gliding across your face. They move as if he were studying it, preparing himself to have to recognize you in blindness.

To only see you in the darkest hour of the night, when his fingers can retrace these patterns, and pretend you’re next to him again.

He could, he thinks. He’d recognize you anywhere. His breath is shaky, knowing he will have to wait until you two are gone from this world to be together.

He would spend the entirety of his afterlife searching for you, in whatever form you took. If you were nothing more than stardust, a gentle whisper on the wind every Starfall, his flame would burn higher that day, reaching out for you one last time.

He resigns himself to these last few minutes with you, but he doesn’t feel the despair in his heart mirrored in your own.

You feel hopeful. You feel open.

He can’t ask, but you know he needs to hear it.

“I am no longer the Princess of the Night Court.”

Hot tears pour down his face, and he struggles to keep his mouth closed to keep from gasping at your decision. A tear falls onto your face beneath his, splashing across your cheek.

“I am officially without a name, without a home, and with no title,” your voice full of more determination than Eris could imagine, “I humbly ask if you could provide these things for me.”

A strangled sob breaks from him, and you twist in his arms to hold him. Surprise takes over your face, utter shock cascading through the bond before you can stop it.

Eris Vanserra, heir to the Autumn Court, a master of masks and facades, always playing the sly courtier three steps ahead. Never in all the years have you known him have you ever seen him so emotional.

Eris looks to the ceiling as you throw your arms around him, embracing him tightly. The heat from his hands was clawing at your back, but it didn’t burn.

You shushed him as he continued crying into your hair, the sight of him becoming undone such a shock to your system.

“I apologize, my love, deeply and truly.”

His hands stay on you, every inch of you needing to make that contact with him.

For so long, his life revolved around choices he was not privy to, choices that were not his. He was a pawn in an ever tiring game, one he was trying to make his way out of.

He presses you into him, unable to believe that someone, anyone, especially you, would choose him.

You chose him. You chose him the day the bond had snapped, and you chose him now, when everything was on the line for you.

He knew that he would make the same choice, putting everything on the line for you, preparing to finally take down Beron.

“I choose you too.”

#eris x you #acotar fanfiction #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x reader #eris x reader #eris x y/n #eris vanserra x y/n

[hwaslayer]

crimson (cs) | one shot.

—summary: life has always revolved around the club, the money, the clients— that is, until a first-time experience changes everything for san, for you; causing lines to be blurred, boundaries that are crossed. he didn’t think he’d get wrapped around your finger, falling deep into your spell. after all, he did become your number one client.

—pairing: choi san x stripper!reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, nightclub au | smut, angst

—word count: 21.8k

—content/warnings: cussing/mature language, heavy on the night club/strip club setting, lap dances, oc doesn’t remove her clothing by choice but is a little more hands on with her clients at the club, alcohol consumption/intoxication, san’s got some baggage with his ex, mentions of a toxic past relationship, mentions of severed relationships with loved ones, protected/unprotected sex, praising, making out, one shower together hehe, missionary, doggy style wooof, cowgirl, sprinkle of spit play, clit play, breast play, mentions of marking, ass slapping, mentions of men getting touchy at the club, fighting (some pushing and a few punches), arguments, flashback scenes, not all ateez members are present - only mingi, san, wooyoung, hongjoong and jongho

—on rotation: agora hills - doja cat | anywhere - 112 | all night long - thuy & lil kev | IT’s you - wooyoung, san & yeosang

He became your number one client. 

Quick.

You remember the first time he stepped into the club with his friends, eyes roaming the floor until they landed on yours. You hadn’t expected the group to walk in when they did— the club being pretty dead lately, with the usual, familiar men walking in to let off some steam, to get their fix. You could tell it was the first time they’d ever walked into a strip club with the way they paused near the entrance, not really knowing where to go or how to get settled from there. One of his friends took the lead and walked towards the main stage, his hesitancy obvious with how stiff and awkward he was as he sat on one of the velvet chairs closest to the stage. You hadn’t really paid much mind to them at first, especially him. You had been busy on the other end of the stage, but his eyes had been glued on you the entire time.

That solely piqued your interest. 

He sunk into the chair comfortably, manspreading as his hands rested on his legs. He stared at you with his cat-like eyes, almost pleading for you to come closer and entertain him while his friends were busy tossing bills at your coworker on the right side of the stage. 

He didn’t budge.

You strutted over, initially planning to tease him a bit; play around, work with his ways to give him something to remember. Little did you know that taking the first leap, giving him that attention, was going to change everything between you and this stranger.

Everything.

▹ FLASHBACK

You step in front of the pole, sliding down until you get to a crouch– making sure your legs are spread enough for him to see the itty bitty fabric from your bodysuit barely covering your parts. You can see him subtly bite onto his bottom lip as he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. You get a little closer, getting onto your knees to crawl towards him; ass posted up in the air while you keep your eyes glued onto him. You’re close enough to the point where he can slip a few dollars into the v-neck of your bodysuit.

And he does, adorning that pretty smirk of his; pearly whites peeking through those pink, plump lips.

“Atta boy!” You hear one of his friends yell. “San’s finally enjoying himself!”

“Dude’s got heart eyes. Look at him. Mesmerized as shit.” Another of his friends laughs before continuing to shower the right side of the stage with bills.

San was his name.

San.

“Gorgeous.” You hear him mutter as you continue to work the stage, eyes glued onto him with every move— every twirl, every dip, every roll, you make. His eyes are taking note of every detail, every tattoo that lines your arm, down to your hip and thigh. Because he wants to study you, all of you.

“It’s his birthday, give him something special!” You glide down the pole before stepping off the stage to greet the men sitting around. It was a normal routine for you, a way to initiate flirty conversations and take men back to a VIP booth for lap dances— lap dances that could easily earn you rent in one night. 

A few of your regulars are sitting around, waiting for some kind of touch, attention. Which, you easily give through running your hand down their chests, whispering sweet nothings as they tuck a few more dollars under your bodysuit. 

Throughout all of this, San is still focused on you.

So, you make your way back to him; his friends are still loudly proclaiming he’s the birthday boy that needs a little gift tonight. And lucky for him, you’re feeling rather generous— especially with the way San buckles around you, pleading, begging, for more of your attention since he walked through the door.

“Is it really your birthday?” You crouch in front of him, hands traveling up his thighs while you lick your lips and bite onto your bottom lip.

“Yeah, it is.” He swallows the lump in his throat when your hands brush against his belt.

“Please give him a private dance.” The same friend from earlier says. He has short black hair with a mole underneath his eye, black button-up exposing his honey skin underneath. He slips you a few hundred bills, a smirk plastered on his face when you meet his gaze. You gladly take the money and stuff it into your bodysuit, grabbing San’s hand as you lead him to the VIP area.

“You didn’t have to.”

“You come to a strip club on your birthday and try to deny a lap dance? That your friend paid for? Odd.” You tease as you push him against another velvet couch. The VIP booths are off to the side of the club, with red mood lights and cringy, dark red velvet curtains draping the front to provide privacy. The booths are small, intimate; just enough space for you to work the pole and be all up on San.

“I mean, I just—” He chokes on his words as he plops onto the couch. “You’re a busy woman, it seems.”

“I am.” You straddle his lap. “But, I can make time for birthday boys, too.”

“That’s nice to know.” His eyes carefully watch your every move. Your hands travel down his neck, down to his tie— tugging on it as you start to bodyroll against the music, against him, making sure San feels you. “Fuck.” He mutters under his breath. You watch as he reaches, but prevents himself from touching your thighs; afraid he’d be crossing a line even though, technically speaking, those lines have been blurred since he walked into the club.

“It’s okay, San.” You reassure him with a whisper, lips almost grazing his ear. His eyes meet yours just as you pull back and bounce on him a bit, hands caressing up and down his chest. You continue to work him slowly, taking your sweet time to make San feel appreciated, to make San feel like he’s had the best birthday in years.

“You know my name?” He says, hands comfortably coming up your body, giving your breasts a squeeze. His hand runs up your neck, to your jaw— gently forcing you to keep eye contact with him as you continue to dance on him. He’s entranced by you that he doesn’t really know what else to say, or how to react. But god, do you feel amazing on him. That body, too?

Heavenly.

“Your friends have been yelling it all night.” You stand and straddle him in the opposite direction, legs wrapped around his torso as you lean forward and bounce on his dick a little more. San can’t help but run his hands down your ass, giving it a good squeeze before you come back up and pry yourself off of him to head to the pole in front of him.

“Fair enough. What’s your name then, beautiful?” You look at him, ignoring the question at first. But, San feels a little different than your usual customers, feels a bit more personal even though you don’t know anything about him nor does he know anything about you. It’s the way that he looks at you, focused on your face, your every move. It’s the way that it’s a room full of dancers and he’s stuck on you. Most men are in the club to fill a void; seeking for quick satisfaction, something that’ll eventually blow over until the next visit. But, it’s nothing more than that. You are nothing more than a dancer, nothing more than a face on stage— someone who collects their bills and runs.

But to San, you feel different.

Before you look into him too deeply, you quickly snap out of it and begin to twirl around the pole, doing your usual pole routine when you’re in the VIP booth. You fall into a split, hand coming down from the pole, down to your body.

San follows.

“My name?” You repeat, and San nods.

“Is that not a normal question here?”

“No one ever gives out their real names here.” You chuckle.

“Then, what’s your stage name?” Time passes when you’re dancing. Usually, you give them 30 mins tops, 45 mins if they keep sending big bills your way. But, you never try to spend more than that with the same person. Not in this community. With the hundreds San’s friend handed you, you would’ve stopped at 15 minutes if this were anyone else.

You’re closing in 20– probably will be 30 when you blink— but you don’t really wanna stop giving San this attention. He’s attractive, fitting his button-up and slacks in all the right places. He has black short hair, a few strands draping over his forehead, a pretty Rolex sitting on his wrist. You think he could handle you if you gave him the chance, and the thought is enough to make your brain short-circuit.

“Crimson.” He smirks, running his finger across his bottom lip while he continues to watch you bounce your ass on the stage. He thinks you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on— the bodysuit doing your body wonders as it makes his mind wander to the unknown.

To what you would look like naked, to have you underneath him, to have you calling his name.

He’s been glued to you from the start and he’s not sure what kind of spell you have him under, but he wants more.

“Crimson.” He repeats, the stage name dripping off his tongue like water. “Are you here every night?”

“Maybe, maybe not.” You twirl with a smirk on your face.

“Come on, don’t do that.” He leans back, head resting against the couch as his hands rest on his thighs.

“Why would it matter?”

“I wouldn’t wanna come back if you weren’t here.” You giggle, stepping away from the pole and slotting yourself back in between his legs at a crouch.

“There’s plenty of other amazing dancers, you know? I don’t make the club.”

“You’re right, you don’t. But, it’s not them I’m asking about.” Your hands travel back up his legs, your face inches away from his dick. You swear you hear him hiss a bit the minute your face glides over, planting small, chaste kisses against his clothed stomach right above the belt. 

“I’m here 4 days a week.”

“What days?” You stand, bending to whisper in his ear. His hand comes up to graze your thigh and hip, shivers shooting down his spine when you respond with:

“I guess you’ll have to find out.” Because now, San takes it as a challenge and he’s determined to figure out which nights you’re here. Initially, he agreed to this whole thing thinking it’d be a one-and-done— a birthday done differently after all these past years only to become an after-thought as time goes on. But now, he wants more of you, all of you; wants to keep seeing you, feeling you, touching you, seeing you dance for him and him only.

He’s not sure what kind of spell you have him under, but he wants more.

You look at him once more, tipping his chin with your finger before dipping forward. You only give him enough so that the tips of your noses brush against each other, enough to tease but not please the birthday boy on his special night. 

“See you soon, Sannie. Happy birthday.” You whisper before turning on your heels and leaving him in the VIP booth to return to the stage. San has to gather himself for a minute, loosening the buttons on his shirt and his tie and adjusting his pants before heading back out to his friends.

“So?! How was it?” Wooyoung leans over on the chair right after he greets another dancer making her rounds across the floor.

“Good.�� 

“He’s red in the face.” Mingi laughs. “It was more than good.”

“Say thank you for the best birthday ever, Wooyoung.” Wooyoung teases and San can’t help but shake his head. He’s still lost in thought, eyes subtly scanning the room to find you but you are busy taking new customers into the VIP booth. The room feels hot, and he wishes he could be in the VIP booth with you, alone. He truly wished it never ended. “Let’s head to the bar and get more drinks.” San shrugs and follows along, the 4 of them heading into the bar where the music is louder, and other dancers are flooding the area.

As the night goes on, you’ve finished tending to your regulars— already knowing what they want, what they need, but making your boundaries clear every time they try to step over the line and take advantage of your generosity tonight. By the end of your shift, it’s 3am and you’re exhausted. Your feet are hurting from the platform heels you’re sporting. It’s crazy how after all this time as a dancer, you still aren’t used to the heels you have to throw on, excited to dip your feet in a hot, lavender foot bath when you get home. You change back into your casual sweats and matching hoodie, throwing the hood over your head as you bid farewell to your coworkers and step out the back door into the cold, crisp night. When you cross the alley to get onto the main road, there are a few gentlemen standing around, some smoking their cigarettes while chatting with their friends.

Usually, no one causes you trouble. From time to time, your usuals are drunk and babbling nonsense about how they wish they could take you home, show you ‘a new world.’ But, no one ever gets handsy, no one ever forces themselves on you. For the most part, they know what this is, they know at the end of the night this is nothing but a temporary fantasy— one you fulfill for a specific time frame before the new day dawns and things go back to normal, to routine.

Tonight, it’s a bit different.

“Yo, isn’t that the dancer?” You hear a familiar voice as you cross through the alley, passing by a big group on your way. They seem to be tending to a friend who has gotten sloppily drunk, yacking their brains out off to the side of the club. 

“Aye cutie, going home already? Wanna give the birthday boy more love?” Another friend questions after he pulls the cigarette from in between his lips and exhales. “Bro, Mingi. Hurry up and get your sloppy ass together. It’s fucking cold.” He scolds their incredibly drunk friend afterwards.

“Hongjoong.” You hear San call for his friend. You do nothing but give them a simple look as you continue to walk on, trying not to feed them any attention. As attractive as San is, you are too tired to deal with this right now. After all, you are just a dancer. What more could you be to him? You temporarily feed into their fantasies, nothing more, nothing less.

“What, it’s a simple question. You never know, she might be down.” 

“Sorry.” San apologizes on his behalf, his eyes red and glazed from the alcohol.

“Not down?” Hongjoong asks again, his eyes now glued onto you.

“No, I’m not.” You respond, walking backwards to maintain eye contact. 

“Aw, why not?” Honey-skin with the black-button up chimes in. “He’s single. He could use it.”

“The fuck? Not helping.” San looks at his friend and taps him on the chest, making him bust out into a loud laugh.

“I don’t do that. Nothing beyond the club. Sorry to disappoint.” You smile at them before walking off onto the main street.

“Can he at least escort you home?!” They call out as you cross the street, making you roll your eyes as you continue the journey home all by yourself.

▹ END

Since then, there’s been a new addition to your regulars. One particularly more intriguing than the rest. You didn’t really believe Mia when she told you the familiar face came on your days off, asking the bartender if you were dancing tonight. He came, and he came, until he figured out the exact 4 days you worked. To say you were surprised would be an understatement because why on earth was San actually looking for you?

Why was he actually trying to figure out your schedule?

Did he really want to see you, or were you just his favorite dancer? Was he too shy to get close to the other dancers [at a strip club]?

It’s been a couple of weeks and San still comes. But, you’ve pushed the questions to the back of your mind; taking his visits with a grain of salt. You weren’t sure you’d pry anyway, afraid you’d be reading into this too much. After all, you are just a dancer.

What more could you be to him? You temporarily feed into their fantasies, nothing more, nothing less.

“Babe, your man is here.” Mia peeks into the dressing room, her head popping in from the doorway.

“He is not my man.” You give her a look, but she giggles and smirks before turning.

“Hurry that ass up, he seems anxious.” She calls out just before she heads back out to the main floor. You roll your eyes, dabbing more lip gloss on your lips before heading back out onto the floor. As promised, San sits in that same chair you met him during his first night at the club while Wooyoung [you’ve come to learn] lingers near the stage. Wooyoung is already entertaining another dancer, taking every opportunity to slip a few bills underneath her bikini top. 

To tease San a bit, you come up from behind up, trailing your hands down his chest while your lips ghost his ear. He turns slightly just for some sort of confirmation, though he’s already studied your body— down to the way you move, the way you tease.

“San.” You call his name. “Should I still be surprised that you’re here again?”

“You tell me.” He smirks, that pretty smile of his slowly becoming a weakness for you. “I’m just here to get my fix.” He winks, even though he really just wants to see you and be alone with you again.

“Get in line.” You tease. San immediately holds up a few bills, eyes darting from yours to your cleavage in that incredibly tiny silver bikini top you have on.

“Should I?” He subtly bites onto his bottom lip as he slips the money right into your top. You playfully roll your eyes and lead the way to a VIP booth, San undoing his cuffs and rolling up his sleeves just about halfway up his forearm. Truthfully, yes, it’s been a long day [week, even] and he’s needing a release; wanting to let out some steam. But, he’s also excited he could do that with you and only you. He watches your hips sway as you walk and wait for him to enter the booth, shutting the curtain close so that it’s just you and him underneath the red mood lighting. 

You step onto the stage; twirling around the pole before you bounce your ass on the stage. San watches intently, eyes glued to your bottom half when you spread your legs and show him how much those bottoms aren’t doing shit for you.

He is so, so curious. 

He takes note of every detail of your body, studying it over and over again like a book. And god, he wants to do everything and nothing all at once— stuck between wanting to get his hands all over you and doing nothing just to admire your pretty face, your figure. San felt like maybe this was just a phase, a new, exciting experience in his life that’ll soon fizzle out.

But when San looks at you, he can’t agree. He’s not sure what kind of spell you have him under, but he wants more.

He leans back onto the couch, his head resting against the edge as he manspreads. He licks his lips while watching your hands travel down your chest, your stomach. 

“Why are you so far?” He questions, motioning for you to come closer. Your bikini top and bottom are still driving him crazy, and he’s certain he’ll lose his shit once you sit on his lap.

“So eager tonight?”

“Just been a rough week.”

“I’m sure, as with everyone else here.”

“Am I just everyone else?” You let out a small chuckle, straddling his lap. His hands immediately come up to cup your ass, giving it a good squeeze before you start to work your hips on him. He’s gotten pretty comfortable by now, though San still shoots you a look as if it’s his way of asking for permission first. You appreciate the little things, and San most definitely isn’t just like everyone else. But, as with any defense mechanism, you resort to a guarded response:

“I mean, you’re here at ungodly hours tipping girls for a dance.” He lets out a small laugh, strong hands now at your hips. 

“Mm, I really only come for my favorite though. You might know her?” He jokes, his face only inches away from yours. 

“Do I?” You follow along with his teasing. The strap to your bikini top falls off your shoulder and San’s eyes follow; the small room feeling 10 degrees hotter, pants a little tighter. 

“Mhm.” He hums, his finger tracing a line up your leg. “She has tattoos just like this lining her thigh—“ He moves it up to your hip. “Up her hip.” His thumb comes up to your lip. “Pretty lips just like that. Long lashes. Prettiest smile I’ve seen.” His face moves towards your neck, lips grazing the surface below your ear. “Mole on the neck.” You subtly bite onto your bottom lip. San’s hand brushes up against your breast before he touches the small mole on your neck.

“Sounds like a lot of the girls around here.”

“Mm, but the one I’m thinking of goes by the stage name Crimson.” You continue to tease, bounce on him a little more, shake ass a little more. Your eyes linger on him a bit longer than you’d like, and you find yourself retracting. To him, the room is probably degrees hotter— for you, it’s starting to feel suffocating.

“She’s nothing but a ‘lil dancer, San.” You whisper in his ear, lips brushing against the surface before you hop off his lap. San is a little confused at the sudden change, but you feel like you’re reading too much into this, too much into San.

This isn’t supposed to be anything but business.

Why would San ever want you in that way? Most of this is to fulfill a want, a need, a fantasy. San is most likely saying this to get what he wants, to take charge and lead you on.

Though, at the end of the night, you are nothing but a face, a dancer. He wouldn’t think about you past the club. That is where this ends, regardless. 

You give San one last look before you brush past the curtain, returning to the stage closest to the bar. Wooyoung is getting dragged to a VIP booth, his other friends now standing and gathering around the stage to get up close and personal to the girls currently on there. You make a beeline to the stage near the bar, the area being a little more dead than the main stage room.

Right before you hop on stage, Mia is delivering drinks to a few men off to the side of the room. She shoots you a look, following after handing over the drinks.

“Why are you rushing? Did something happen?” You wait for the bartender to hand you some water.

“Nothing happened.” You sip a bit to shake off your thoughts, your feelings.

“You sure? I’ll beat someone’s ass if you need me to and call security to toss them out.”

“I promise.” You look at her and squeeze her arm. “I’m just gonna stick here for the rest of the night, though. Need a change of pace.” She nods.

“Alright, if you say so. I’m still onto you.” She says, leaving you to help the bartender with delivering the drinks.

For the rest of the night, you continue to dodge San and his friends until the end of your shift. You don’t usually leave through the front doors of the club, but tonight, you sneak out and rush across the street with your hood up. You can hear San and his friends as they leave, causing you to pick up the pace of your steps— hoping you’ll avoid being caught.

But, San sees you, anyway. His eyes can’t help but watch for a few seconds more before he’s returning his attention back to the boys. He felt the shift earlier, and he picked up on the way you continued to hop from stage to stage— seemingly avoiding their group. He’s not sure what happened, or why he feels like you’ve suddenly got your guard back up around him. It’s something about you, and San knows it shouldn’t be that serious. This became a fun little past-time for him and his boys. But every time he’s left the club recently, he leaves a little bit more attached to you.

Because yes, you know how to work your magic in there. It’s no fucking joke. He gets a taste of you on stage, in the booth, and it blows his mind. But other than that, it’s the way you return the same look, the same touch. There’s something else, more to you than the surface, and he’s curious to find out.

It shouldn’t be that serious, but for San, it is.

“What’s wrong?” Jongho pushes a small coffee your way, cocking a brow when he sees how checked out you seem today.

“W-what?” You look at him, finally pulled out of your daze. “Oh, nothing.” You grab the cup and take a sip, giving him a tiny toothless smile of appreciation. “Thank you.”

“Sure.” He sets his coffee onto the side of the cart, helping you unbox a few albums that arrived today and needed to be restocked on the shelves. “So, really. What is it?” He asks, eyes still focused on restocking. Jongho has been one of your closest friends— probably the only closest, genuine friend that stuck by your side since you were younger. He still keeps in touch with the group you grew up with since middle school, but lots of those relationships have been severed after you started dancing at the club. Jongho was the only one who didn’t see you any differently, nor did he take the job as anything bad. He always knew you were passionate about dance and he understood you when times got tough; strapped on cash and needing a quick fix that would help you get by. It was a bit of a risky, somewhat dangerous step, but who was Jongho to control your life? You already didn’t have a great relationship with your parents, so the least Jongho can do is support you and be your pillar if no one else would be. He knew you could make your own decisions, and only you knew yourself best. He knew you’d take care of yourself, whatever that looked like.

Jongho was the manager at this small, quaint music shop in the city. Though, the city you lived in wasn’t entirely huge compared to others. It still had its old-school touch of wooden, soft decor with a rage of vintage to mainstream albums and art throughout the shop. The owner was a middle-aged man who used to play in a band back in the days, now retired and trying to stay in touch with his roots through the shop. Jongho had worked here for years before stepping into the full-time manager position and helped bring you on, especially during the time you needed it the most.

You really appreciate Jongho, and you’re glad you at least have him.

“Sometimes, I feel like I should’ve just finished school.”

“You did. High school?”

“College.” Jongho shrugs when you respond and give him a look.

“If it wasn’t what you wanted to do at the time, then why force yourself? Besides, it’s never too late. You can always go back to school.” He turns to you and places a hand on his hip. “Why are you thinking about this all of a sudden?”

“I don’t really know. What if they were right? What if I’m not good for anything besides being a stripper? What if I’m just that?”

“You and I both know that’s not true.” Jongho tosses the empty box aside, triggering you to get it together and start doing your job. “You’re smart, talented, and passionate about a lot of things. Especially dance. Just because you work at a club doesn’t make you less of a person, Y/N.” He says in that usual serious tone of his.

“Thanks.” You poke your bottom lip out as you arrange the albums and start tagging the price stickers onto them.

“Who is it?” You sigh, already knowing Jongho won’t leave it alone until you finally tell him the truth about why you’re suddenly questioning your life.

“It’s the same guy I told you about. The birthday boy.” Jongho does a tiny nod of acknowledgement.

“He’s still showing up with his friends?”

“Yeah, surprisingly. And he always looks for me. Asks for me. Doesn’t pay attention to any other dancer there.”

“Maybe he has a crush on you.”

“We know nothing about each other. He knows my stage name, he knows my club persona.” You sigh. “That’s why it made me question life. It’s dumb, I know.” You purse your lips together as you shove the albums into the shelf and move onto the next task.

“Well, there has to be a reason why he keeps coming back for you and only you. Maybe he wants to know you, outside of the club and that whole persona thing.” Jongho shrugs. “Never say never.”

“He’s a businessman of some sort. Suited up all the time. He must work for a really good company. Probably has a family that is well off.” You shake your head and make your way back to the front. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“I wouldn’t say that. Why don’t you ask—“ At this point, just as you settle at the register with Jongho, a few people enter the shop. You whip your head towards the entrance when you hear some laughter, only for your eyes to widen.

“Oh, shit. Jongho!” You whisper harshly. “What the hell is he doing here?!” He looks over your shoulder as San and Wooyoung walk in, Wooyoung instantly making a turn to head to the vinyl collection.

“Is that birthday boy?” You nod with a worried expression on your face. San is about to walk past the register when he furrows his brows at the small commotion happening behind the counter, turning his attention towards you and Jongho.

“Too late dude, he’s right there.” Jongho blocks you from leaving. “It’d be too obvious now, just take it like a fucking champ and say hi.” He says through gritted teeth. “I gotta walk around anyways.” He turns to San enthusiastically. “Hey, welcome in.”

“Hey.” San looks at the both of you, his brows still furrowed when his eyes land on your face.

“Hi. Let me know if you need help.” You try to scurry off, but San stops you.

“Woah, wait. You’re—“

“Don’t say it outloud here.” San’s lips form into the shape of an ‘o’ before nodding. He can’t help but glaze over your features and how naturally beautiful you are– the sun hitting your skin perfectly. You never packed on the makeup heavily on stage, but you did still have a face on every time you worked at the club. He subtly nibbles onto his bottom lip, hands dug deep into his jacket pockets.

“You work here, too?”

“Makes up for the days I’m not there.” He nods.

“Well, hi.” He gives you a small smile.

“Hi.” You tilt your head. “I’ve never seen you around this part of the city. Ever.” He snorts a bit.

“We’re never usually on the outskirts, but Wooyoung was adamant about getting vinyls for his new record player. You guys are the only shop that has a good collection.” You nod, San stepping aside when a customer unloads their basket onto the counter. He lingers around, watching how delicate you are handling the merchandise and how big your smile is when helping the customer. As expected, you’re very different from the club— you seem more relaxed, laid back. Sweet. Happy.

“So, are you just gonna stand there and wait for Wooyoung?” You chuckle after wrapping up the transaction and handing the customer their bag, bidding farewell as they head out of the store.

“I don’t really need anything so, yeah. I guess so. I’d rather talk to you, anyway.” You give him a look and take the sticker gun in your hand, walking away from the counter when a coworker comes back from break to relieve you.

“I’m working.” You head back to the floor, San following behind.

“I know.” He watches as you begin to sort through another shipment. “Are you gonna tell me your name now that we’re outside of the club?”

“Why do you wanna learn my name so badly? And why are you always at the club? Don’t you have like.. other things to do? A girlfriend or someone to entertain?” You shiver at the thought. God, you hope not. Especially with how he’s been lately. But, men are trash and you wouldn’t expect any less.

“Because I do? You’re not just someone from the club.” You look at him briefly before looking back down at the stack of albums. “And no, I don’t have someone to entertain. I wouldn’t be there often if I did.” Touché. “We just had fun on my birthday. It’s a good way to let out some steam after busy days.”

“Hm.” You hum.

“I like seeing you there.” He casually says, making you pause in your actions before continuing. 

“I don’t make the club, San.”

“You make it for me. Or else I wouldn’t be going.” You look at him again with a hand on your hip. He has a small smirk plastered on his face and you can’t help but notice how attractive he looks under the daylight— smooth honey skin, hoodie over his head, soft black hair teasing his forehead. Your eyes linger on him for a lot longer than you’d like, having to force yourself to snap out of it when you realize [again] that San wouldn’t want you in that way.

“What are you trying to do here?” You cock a brow up just before you start working on the CDs in front of you, marking them down and adding new price tags to the back.

“Get to know you.”

“Why me?”

“Why not you?” San continues to smirk, leaning against the shelves. 

“Y/N, take your break in a few minutes.” Jongho says coming down the aisle before giving San a small, pursed smile.

“Yeah, Y/N.” San chimes in and teases. “Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

“You ready? I found what I needed—“ Wooyoung comes from around the corner, pausing mid-sentence when he realizes San isn’t alone. “Oh, hey! I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” Your eyes dart to Wooyoung and he smiles. “Wow, you’re really pretty in the daylight—“ San taps him on the chest. “What, I’m just saying! It’s hard to really see faces in the club lighting. Besides, I don’t get the privilege of having private—“

“Okay, that’s—yeah.” San cuts him off and scratches at his head. “Really sorry.”

“You ready?” You let out a sigh before asking Wooyoung. “I can ring you up at the other register before I head to break.”

“Yeah.” You lead them to the smaller checkout stand at the end of the aisle, scanning Wooyoung’s items and bagging up his things as he pays. Throughout the entire time, San is still watching you; subtly biting onto his bottom lip when he can’t help but think of the nights at the club, being intimately close with you— seeing you in a different light than this.

Which, he’s trying not to. He just can’t help it. You are beauty in its purest form, and he wishes he could know more about you.

And you don’t fail to notice. 

The look San has in his eyes is different from what you’re used to seeing at nighttime. It makes you nervous from the butterflies you feel, the curiosity running through your veins— even if the other thoughts in your mind say otherwise.

“Guess we’ll see you around?” Wooyoung smirks before walking out of the shop first.

“See you soon, Y/N.” Just before San walks out, you shut off the part of your brain that keeps spewing negativity and all these other ‘what if’s.’

“W-wait.” 

“Hm?” He hums, his hands in his pocket as he cocks a brow up. You begin to scribble your number down on a random receipt that was left behind, pushing it over to San shortly afterwards.

“Don’t ask for free dances or anything though, I’ll block you.” San chuckles before grabbing the receipt and tucking it into his pocket.

“Don’t want that, now do we?” He winks before stepping out of the shop.

“Cute.” You glare at Jongho and hit him on the arm. “Ouch, what!”

“Why would you say my name around him!”

“You act like he wasn’t gonna find out one way or another, the dude definitely has googly eyes over you.” He crosses his arms and smirks. “Besides, you slipped him your number.”

“Ugh.” You continue to glare at him. “I’m going on my break.”

“So you can text San, hm?” You mouth out a quick ‘fuck off’ before turning on your heel and heading to the break room. The entire scenario hadn't been processed in your mind until now, unsure if giving your number to San was a good idea or not.

You didn’t wanna get attached to him. Not him, of all people. Though, you know you will, and that’s why it feels like a bad decision.

A decision you think you might regret.

The thought blows over when you get home that night, exhausted from your work day and the commute. You hop in the shower and whip up a teriyaki chicken rice bowl with some veggies. You plop onto your couch and turn on the TV, picking up on where you left off on the last episode of the series you were watching. Barely 7 minutes in, a call comes through on your phone, your eyes widening at the name flashing across the screen. Just as you briefly debate on answering the call, your hands are already moving towards the phone; swiping right to pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Hey.” San says on the other line so nonchalantly, as if you two had been talking for years.

“Hi?” You let out a small, nervous chuckle. “What made you call?”

“I just wanted to talk to you and ask how the rest of your day at work went.”

“Oh.” You shrug as if he can see you. “It was alright. Nothing too bad.”

“Yeah? Nobody get on your nerve throughout the day?”

“I also work at a strip club. I think the music shop is very mild when it comes to that.” You joke, making San laugh a bit on the other line. “How was the rest of yours?”

“Good. Wooyoung and I just grabbed something to eat before he brought me home.”

“Where’s home for you?”

“Probably 20 minutes away from the city.” He responds just as you hear dishes clinking in the background. “Did you eat already?”

“I am right now.”

“Oh shit, sorry. Do you want me to call you later? Or, I guess, I can just text you?”

“It’s okay, San. I don’t mind.”

“Mmkay. Just checking.”

“I know you just saw Wooyoung, but you guys aren’t hanging out with the rest of your friends tonight?”

“Believe it or not, we like taking breaks from each other.” He laughs a bit. “No but, Mingi, the really tall one, has a date or whatever tonight.”

“Or whatever?” You laugh.

“He’s weird about these things. Says it’s a date when we all know he’s not really ready to date seriously.”

“Mm, one of those guys. You like that, too?”

“Definitely not. If I really like someone and we hit it off, I’ll pursue them to no end.”

“Mhm.” You find yourself teasing him more. “Cute. Have you guys known each other for long?”

“Me and Wooyoung grew up together. Our parents are close, too. We met Hongjoong and Mingi in college.”

“That’s sweet.”

“What about you, Y/N? What about your friends? Tell me more about yourself. I meant it when I said I wanna get to know you.” You feel the heat rise to your cheeks, even though every bone in your body is telling you to continue keeping your guard up.

“Ah, did you? Cause it definitely sounded like a line.” You snort.

“It’s not just a line. Seriously.”

“I honestly don’t know what to tell you. I don’t have an interesting story.” You poke at your food before taking a small bite.

“Don’t say that. I find you interesting no matter what.”

“You say that now.”

“I’ll say it later, too.” He reassures you.

“I– I don’t know. I’m not close to my family after the decisions I’ve made, and friends left my side especially after I started working at the club more. Jongho is really the only person who has stayed by my side since we were younger.”

“I’m sorry. Why aren’t they your friends anymore?”

“I guess they just think I’m dumb for not going to school and for settling at the club.”

“I mean, that’s not really fair? It’s not dumb if it wasn’t what you wanted.”

“Yeah, well. They didn’t think I’d take dance that seriously.”

“You’re really good at it.” You chuckle hearing his response. “Why wouldn’t you?”

“Wish I could tell you. My family is in the same boat. My older sister graduated from college and started her own lab after finishing her postdoctoral appointment. Imagine how much my family looks down on me. I struggled for awhile and Jongho helped me out a lot.”

“I’m glad you at least have him.”

“I am too.”

“What else do you like to do?”

“San, are you sure you don’t have anything else to do tonight?” He laughs. “What about your family?”

“Swear. My family is fine, they’re doing their own thing.”

“Do they live around here too?”

“Nope, maybe an hour or so away? I have an older sister too, but she’s overseas right now. She’s in the fashion industry.” He lets out a small sigh. “I genuinely wanted to call you and talk to you after seeing you today.”

“You’re such a mystery.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know. You just are. I see you at the club a couple of times, then I see you at the shop. Now we’re on the phone. It’s just funny how things play out.”

“Nothing mysterious about it. Maybe it’s just meant to play out that way.”

“What’s meant to play out that way?”

“Us.” You pause. Mainly because you couldn’t believe this is how things were meant to play out with San. Why was he everywhere and nowhere at the same time? Why was he calling you and trying to get to know you? And what if it was meant to play out this way? It could either mean two things— one, San was meant to play some sort of good in your life.

Or two, San was meant to break your heart and teach you yet another lesson in this crazy universe.

You weren’t sure what to think of it all, if you were even ready to figure out what all of this meant.

But, at this moment in time, all the regrets and thoughts continue to brush over your head because you like hearing San’s voice and you like talking to him outside of the club. You are intrigued, and you can’t say you aren’t keen on finding out what this is.

So, you continue to talk to San. 30 minutes turns into an hour; slipping into bed with San still on the other line. It’s easy to talk to him and you like that he initiates most of the conversation. He doesn’t judge you and he doesn’t pressure you into talking about things you don’t feel comfortable diving into right now. He doesn’t put the focus on himself much and he listens. You find yourself giggling, tossing and turning under the sheets— thoughts exploring uncharted territories.

San almost feels like a bad decision; a decision you think you might regret.

For tonight, you’ll take it. You’ll take this for what it is, and you’ll take San for who he is. You’ll find out what his role is in your life and why this is playing out the way it is for the both of you.

Maybe he is good.

Maybe he is a heartbreaker.

Or maybe San is meant to be San, a passing moment in your life that eventually just ends.

Whatever it is, you’ll figure it out. Even if it's something you might regret later on.

“Can I tell you something Y/N?” He asks just as you feel the exhaustion hitting your body.

“Mhm?”

“You’re really beautiful. I like seeing you, especially on stage. You know how to drive people crazy.”

San continues to text and call you, just to ask if you’re doing okay— to let you know he always looks forward to seeing you. Small smiley faces, goodmorning’s and goodnight’s, dropping by with food or just to say hi at the music shop; you can’t help but feel the butterflies in your tummy grow when it comes to San. 

You’re not sure if you despise it or not.

Jongho says you should just see where it goes and tries to reassure you by telling you what’s meant to be, will be, and that you shouldn’t read too much into things right now. 

Keep doing you as you have, and continue to move forward.

But, it’s a lot easier said than done. Especially when you don’t understand what San wants out of you. He’s respected your boundaries through text, not asking for free dances or nudes, only keeping it brief to check in on you sometimes. Yet, at the club, he’s handsy. He’s vocalized how much he wants you and how much he wishes he could know more about you outside of the club.

San is an enigma.

You count in your head as you slowly take steps forward on stage, trying your hardest not to get distracted.

One, two.

Twirl around the pole.

Three, four.

Fall into the splits.

Five, six.

Bounce.

You get back onto your fours, shaking ass for the men lined up near the stage constantly tossing bills your way and shoving it under the ties of your bikini bottoms. It isn’t long before the main stage is where the most activity is happening— the club incredibly busy tonight with tons of celebrations. You’ve just stepped out of a VIP booth, your client paying you more than you could ask for by simply requesting if you could just work the pole for him. You gladly oblige, making it one less man to give a lap dance to before your shift is over. 

Besides, you can’t help but think of San.

And the moment you start to think about him, is the exact moment you find him lingering in the club with his boys— eyes scanning the stage and room before they finally find you near the VIP booths. It’s been a minute since they’ve stopped by. San has mentioned that he and his friends have just been swamped at work and that he can’t wait to let some steam out soon. He’s in all black tonight; black fitted slacks, boots, a black-button up with his chest partially exposed. He’s got a silver chain around his neck, and god, does the sight immediately do things to you.

They order a round of drinks before San finds himself at one of the seats next to the stage. He’s entertaining the crowd a bit, joining in when your coworker steals the stage and grabs the attention from the men around you. You don’t mind because it gives you the opportunity to slip away and take a breather, maybe run for a quick water break before you sway your hips in San’s direction. 

And sure enough, he’s been waiting. Like he always is.

Just as you sweet talk your way through the crowd and grab a few extra tips for it, San gently wraps his hand around your wrist and pulls you onto his lap. He smirks at you, eyes glazed over from all the alcohol he’s already downed.

“Mm, I’ve been waiting.” He says. “Can I have you?” The question sends shivers down your spine, his touch against your hip electrifying. 

“Depends.” You tease as he slips a few bills into your bra. “Can you handle it tonight? You’re pretty drunk.”

“Can always handle you, babygirl.” He says in your ear. You instantly stand to your feet and grab his hand, leading him to one of the free VIP booths. As soon as you pull the curtains close and try to work your way over to the pole, San pulls you back onto his lap— hands caressing your sides as you fix your position and properly straddle him. “Need you here, not there.”

“Thought you liked watching me work the pole.”

“I do, but not as much as I like watching you on me.”

“You’re incredibly suave tonight, what’s gotten into you?” You giggle, feeling San’s hands grope your ass.

“Just missed you.”

“We’ve been talking quite a bit.”

“I know, but it’s not the same as seeing you.” 

“You just missed the club.”

“Nah. You.” He corrects you. Something about San is different tonight, but you can’t say you dislike it. He’s a little more straightforward, a little more bolder, a little more open about his want— his need— for you. Especially when he caresses your tits; palm gently gliding over before giving your nipples a good pinch. Especially when his lips ghost over your neck, jaw, finally finding its way to your ear. Especially when he whispers about how pretty you look and how he wishes he could kiss you.

“Who said you couldn’t?” He pauses for a moment to look at you, really look at you, before taking his hand to your cheek and bringing you down to his lips. The way your lips crash is intense, full of lust.

Want.

Need.

A craving to be fulfilled.

The kiss easily turns wet, sloppy; San’s hands digging half crescents into your hips as he guides you to work your hips against him. He lets out a shaky breath in between, lips now traveling down to your jaw, neck.

“Fuck.” You hear him groan against your skin, right before his tongue glides against the surface; nibbling and sucking gently to soothe the mark.

“San.” You call his name as he continues down to the base of your neck, collarbone— lips now pressed against your inner breast. Part of you feels so, so good in San’s arms. But the other half feels so incredibly conflicted about the whole situation solely because San is an enigma. You aren’t sure if it’s enough to sway you away. Reality hits when the crowd outside roars in cheers, pulling you away from the sweet daydream, the sweet fog that temporarily clouded your vision. Your hands rest on his shoulders as you gently pry him away and push him back. “San.” You repeat.

“Yeah?”

“We shouldn’t.” He licks his lips, eyes still glued onto yours. Surprisingly, he doesn’t fight back, no. Instead, he kisses you one last time— lips locked until one of you pulls away first. You hop off his lap and walk off towards the curtain, giving him one last look before leaving him alone. “See you out there, okay?” Is all you manage to say. San knows better than to do this here, of all places, but he can’t seem to help himself. He’s stuck on you, has this pull to you, and he wants it all. He doesn’t fight though, because he should be doing better. This probably looks all wrong and confusing to you and he doesn’t mean to do that. He’s just no good at this, no good at approaching you— you, so sexy and so independent.

It’s something about you, and he’s losing his mind.

“Shoot your fucking shot already.” Hongjoong comes around the corner from the bathroom, running into San as he exits the VIP booth.

“What?” He asks, still a bit discombobulated after the short but intense session in the booth.

“Your girl.”

“She’s not my girl.”

“Shut up.” He says, forehead furrowed. “We come to the club and all you do is look for her. Can’t tell me there isn’t anything more to it.”

“I don’t know.”

“Just do it. What do you have to lose? You’re not getting any younger.” Hongjoong snickers, but it quickly fades when San’s expression hasn’t changed. “You’re just trying to fuck, right?” San finally meets his eyes but he doesn’t say anything, and it kinda freaks Hongjoong out. “What the fuck, San?”

“What?”

“You actually like her? You can’t be serious. I thought it was just a one time thing–”

“What the fuck does it matter?” San lets out a small chuckle to play off the whole thing, but frankly, he’s trying his hardest to not let Hongjoong ruin his mood. “Look, I’m not trying to think about this here. Ready?” He nods towards the bar, finding Mingi and Wooyoung amongst the crowd.

For the rest of the night, you do what you do best— deflect and avoid. You’re not sure how long you can keep doing this around San, especially every time you have an encounter with him. You start questioning yourself so much that it gets to you, that the reality of the situation starts dawning on you even though you have no foundation to back things up. But, you’d like to think that you haven’t fallen too deep; you could still swim up to the surface if you needed to, and you’d like to keep it that way.

However, that feels like a far reach when your shift ends. You feel like you’ve escaped for the umpteenth time until you realize you really haven’t, and that maybe, San was always going to be an enigma you were meant to figure out.

“Y/N.” You hear a familiar voice call for you as you walk down the street. You’re still walking at a steady pace, but the steps behind you seem to be catching up fairly quickly. “Y/N—” You turn and place your hand over his mouth, making San furrow his brows at you.

“We’re still nearby. I’d like it if you didn’t go yelling my name around like that.” He chuckles as you let him go, continuing your walk home.

“Some people should know your name by now, right?”

“And the majority that don’t?” You look at him. “Let’s keep it that way.”

“Sorry, beautiful.” You playfully roll your eyes, trying to keep your guard up.

“What’re you doing, San?”

“Walking you home.”

“What about your friends?” You pause in your steps, creating enough distance between you and the club by now.

“They can handle their own.” He shrugs. “Let me walk you.”

“Then, what?”

“Then at least I know you’re safe and sound.” You let out a breath before continuing to walk with San. You aren’t gonna lie— having San’s company makes you feel ten times safer, and you feel comfortable having him alongside you. Usually, you rush your walk just to get home in one piece. Tonight, you can finally enjoy the crisp, night time air for a bit longer. 

Tonight, you can finally enjoy the stars for a bit longer.

Tonight, you can enjoy San for a bit longer.

“San?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t you get tired of going to the club?” He shakes his head and laughs.

“Not really. It’s kinda fun. Beats going to a regular club.”

“Can I ask?” He nods. “What do you do for work?”

“I just work for a tech company in their finance department.”

“Interesting.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t know tech guys liked strip clubs so much.”

“Change of scenery.” You chuckle, easing up a bit in San’s company. “Is this your usual walk home?”

“Mhm. It’s not so bad.”

“Yeah, but it’s also like.. 3am.” San looks down at you. “Why don’t you just take an Uber home or something?”

“Why, when it’s within walking distance?”

“Safety reasons. You don’t feel scared?”

“Not really. I’ve done this walk for years now.”

“Why don’t I just bring you home from now on?” You laugh.

“Even if you don’t go to the club?”

“Especially when I don’t go to the club.”

“That’s too much work. I can’t ask you to do that. Plus, you work a regular 9-5 I’m assuming.”

“But, I’m offering? I don’t really trickle in right at 9 for work, as long as I make my 8 or so hours for the day. Plus, I can work from home sometimes.” You don’t say anything, so he quickly follows up with: “I know the walk is close, but it makes me feel weird about letting you be out here this late after work.”

“Hm.” You look at him.

“Let me.” 

“Hey, just so we remember this— you offered and put that out on the table. Not me.” He laughs.

“Got it, your honor.”

“Are you not cold?”

“No. The cold is helping a lot right now.”

“How drunk were you today?”

“Pretty drunk.” He laughs. “It’s been a very long couple of weeks. I probably sound like a broken record but there’s no better way to put it. Lots of deadlines to meet with little time to prep.”

“Ah, the surprise deadlines. I’m sure it went fine, right?”

“Yeah, sure. After all the stress they put me through first.” San snorts.

“It’s done now. You made it.” You turn the corner and continue to walk down the path until you reach your building— a small, quaint building in the middle of the residential area. You lead San to your door at the far right corner of the building. “Welp, this is me.” You turn to look at him and he gives you a tiny, toothless smile.

“Cute.” You awkwardly fiddle with your fingers, feeling bad about turning San away. A part of you genuinely wants his company outside of the club and he seems to want the same, too.

“D-do you wanna come in, by any chance?”

“Only if you’re okay with it.”

“I am.” You turn to unlock the door. “Sorry if it’s super small and not aesthetically pleasing to look at.”

“Y/N, don’t apologize.” He steps in and steps out of his shoes, eyes wandering around your tiny studio. “It’s nice. I like the plants.” He eyes the plants near the shelf that blocks off your bed from the couch, TV and ‘living room’ area.

“Thanks. I try to take really good care of them.” He chuckles as he plops onto the couch.

“It’s a cozy space. It’s perfect for you, no?”

“I like it. I’ve been here for the past year and a half or so? Jongho’s aunt is the landlord and he did a lot to convince her to let me have this place for decent rent.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah. He was probably tired of me.” You grab two water bottles from your fridge. “I lived with him for a long time. We shared rooms.”

“He’s a really good friend.”

“He is.” You stand near him and hand him the water bottle. “Make yourself at home, I’m just gonna take a quick shower.”

“Can I join?” 

“Do you wanna be tossed out?” He laughs.

“Kidding.” He pulls out his phone and begins to scroll through his social media. “I’ll wait patiently.” You grab your shirt and shorts before running into the bathroom to take a quick body shower, excited to rinse off the night from your skin. It only takes you about 15 minutes to fully get ready for bed, San still waiting patiently on your couch. His eyes shift from his screen to you—

Slowly ogling your body,

Down to your legs.

“Feel better?”

“Mhm.” You plop next to him, watching as he lets his head rest on the back of the couch. “Tired?”

“Yeah.”

“You should go home and get rest.”

“Do you want me to go home?” He looks at you and you aren’t really sure how to answer the question. Yes, you do, so San can rest.

But no, you don’t, because you like having him here.

You can’t help but remember the events that transpired earlier at the club and what it would feel like to have his lips on you again—

“No, not really.”

“Good, cause I wanna keep you company for a little longer.”

“San?”

“Yeah, pretty girl?”

“When you kissed me earlier—” You lick your lips and swallow the lump in your throat. “Did you kiss me because you were drunk at the club, or because you genuinely wanted to?”

“I told you I really wanted to.” You sit and look at him, unsure of how you feel about his response. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“It’s not that.”

“Then?”

“I don’t know, San. I can’t read you.”

“You don’t have to.” He sits up, his face only inches away from yours. “It’s okay to tell me you don’t believe me, Y/N. I’d rather you be honest than not.”

“Then, no. I don’t.” He lets out a tiny, breathy laugh, a small smirk perked up on the corner of his lips.

“Fair enough.” He says lowly, eyes scanning your lips, your face and all its features. “Then, will you give me another chance to show you so you do believe me?” His thumb gently caresses your chin before grazing over your bottom lip. “Hm?” He hums. You nod, giving him leverage to dip down further, lips locked with yours for another soft, passionate kiss. It quickly deepens when San slips his tongue in; his fighting for dominance against yours. You find yourself hurrying to position yourself onto his lap, hands grabbing at his shirt. He gently nibbles on your jaw before making his way back down to your neck, no longer hesitating to suck on certain spots to leave his mark. His hands make their way up your shirt, palming at your tits while you fiddle with the buttons of his shirt. “Let’s get this off, baby.” The petname sends shivers down your spine, making you easily oblige to his request.

You shed off his shirt just as he tosses yours to the side, mouth instantly latching onto your perked bud. His tongue moves in a circular motion, pulling back with a pop before moving onto the next. You let out a moan when he flicks around your nipple, sucking gently before trailing his lips a bit further down.

“Hold onto me. Need you on the bed.” He huskily says as you wrap your arms and legs around him, San’s hands coming down to grip your ass. He takes you to your bed, wasting no time to get rid of the rest of the clothing sitting on your bodies. Everything feels so intimately rushed with San because there’s so much desire, so many thoughts and cravings to be fulfilled. He continues to kiss you, slipping two digits into you to test the waters— to see how wet you are, how tight you are. “Jesus.” He mumbles against your lips. 

You are dripping.

“Sannie.” The nickname accidently slips from your lips again, making him smile against you.

“So cute when you say my name like that.” He lets out a breath. “You’re so wet for me. Think you can take me now?” He’s pumping himself and the sight makes you drool. He’s perfectly built— toned abs and biceps, skin dipped in honey, a perfectly thick cock. You nod, eager to get a taste of San, eager to see what he’ll do to you.

“Need you.”

“Oh, you do?” He has that smug smirk on his face just as positions himself at your entrance. “Shit, I don’t have a condom—” 

“Here.” You quickly dig through your nightstand and grab a condom you got last week. Dude who tipped you off thought he was slick by throwing a condom in there, thinking he could get some.

At least it came in handy to your liking.

San quickly rips the packet open, throwing the condom on before lowering himself back down onto you. You let out a broken moan when he slips himself in, slowly burying himself to the hilt. His breath is hot against your neck, the both of you releasing shaky exhales while you get used to the feeling. He begins to rock his hips at a slow, steady pace; mumbling curses against your skin as he adjusts to your walls sucking him in.

“God, you feel so good— fuck, Y/N. You’re so hot.” He grunts, his thoughts running wild about seeing you at the club, getting his lap dances.

To this.

Everything about you drives San wild and he’s not even sure how he can explain the feeling. So sexy, so independent; attitude on na-na while worrying about yourself and yourself only.

San starts to fuck you faster, hips pounding against you and echoing in the studio. You’re both probably a bit too loud for your neighbors right now, but you truly could care less. San was driving himself into you at a delicious pace, hitting you in all the right spots.

“San.” You call his name, hands tugging at the hair sitting on the nape of his neck. “Like that— like that.” You whimper. “Feels so good.”

“Yeah, baby?” He sits up to pound against you at a different angle, hands at your thighs to spread you completely open. He loves seeing the way your slickness coats his cock, his head tilting back in immense pleasure. “Wanna cum for me, pretty girl? Wanna cum all over this dick? So good for me.” He praises, and praises, thumb coming down to work your clit. 

“Oh, god.” You moan, hands gripping at the sheets as you feel yourself tipping over the edge the more San fucks into you, the more he rubs at your clit, the more your hips match his movements. You have never been this turned on by someone— at least, not in a very long time. San is so, so attractive. He is suave, and he knows what he’s doing with you. “So close.” San continues to praise you, telling you how beautiful you look underneath him.

How pretty you are.

How badly he wants you.

How you always drive him crazy.

And if it wasn’t for the constant praising, if it wasn’t for the way his hips worked so well against yours, if it wasn’t for the way San was skillfully rubbing at your clit— you wouldn’t be close to unraveling so quickly.

“San, I’m—“ You barely make out before you come undone beneath him, mouth slacked open as a silent moan leaves your lips; body trembling in his grip. This gives him momentum to drive his hips into you faster, harder; uncoiling shortly afterwards.

“Shit, Y/N. Feels too good.” San groans, unloading into the condom. His hands tightly grip your thighs as he gives it one, two more thrusts before coming back down from his high.

Everything feels so beautiful, yet intimately rushed. So, so good yet equally so, so bad for you.

Before you can even say anything, San lowers himself to give you a kiss on the lips. He kisses you for awhile before slipping himself out and grabbing a napkin to wrap the condom in. He quietly takes another few napkins to help clean up, wiping you gently before moving onto himself and plopping onto your bed next to you.

“You okay?” He asks, eyes closed as he regulates his breathing.

“Mhm.”

“Good?”

“Maybe.” He chuckles at your response, pulling you into his arms while you pull the sheets over the both of you. “Definitely worn out, though.”

“Yeah, same.” He kisses the top of your head. “Mind if I crash here for a bit? I don’t mind leaving too, if it makes you uncomfortable. Just let me know.”

“No, you’re good. I don’t mind, San.”

“Was hoping you’d say that.” You chuckle, adjusting your position to comfortably lay on San and fall asleep on his chest.

This is when you start to regret ever giving San the attention, your number, everything. 

Because now that you know him a little more, San has become your kryptonite.

After that night, you woke up to an empty bedside— almost no signs of San entirely in your studio. Though it made your heart clench a little bit, part of you knew you wouldn’t be waking up to him.

For work, for other reasons.

Other reasons being that maybe, he really just did want you the one time. And the thought lingered for a little longer when he took awhile to text you that day, your mind running through all the worst possible scenarios during the hours.

▹ FLASHBACK

You slept like a baby after what felt like years, warmth of the sheets still engulfing you as your eyes flutter open. The sun leaves a trail down your sheets, everything quiet; still. When you turn, you find that San is gone— the dip on that side of the bed long gone, his clothes gone, waterbottle gone.

It was like he was never here in the first place.

Your clothes are set neatly off on the edge of the bed instead of the floor. And god, it feels kinda lonely without San. It’s your first telltale sign of attachment, though you know you shouldn’t be at that point after one intimate night with him.

But, it’s hard.

You check your phone and there aren’t any new texts besides Jongho and his need to send you random Instagram reels or TikToks. You lay in bed for a bit longer, letting out a soft sigh when you catch yourself wondering about San in that way. You shut your eyes for a little more, hoping you’ll be able to shake off the ‘what if’s’ with a couple of more hours of sleep. 

Meanwhile, San tiredly walks into the office a bit past 10am, hopping straight into his first meeting of the day. It lasts an hour before he’s finally able to walk to the kitchen to grab his first [and much needed] cup of coffee.

“What the fuck happened to you last night, Mr. Suave?” Wooyoung comes beside him, waiting to get his cup of coffee refilled.

“I walked Y/N home.” San smirks.

“Yeah, obviously.” Wooyoung slightly glares at him. “You’re not slick, dumbass. You fucked, didn’t you?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Wow, I’m your bestfriend and you’re asking me that question?” Wooyoung lets out a little ‘pfft’ before playfully shoving San aside to finally get his refill. “I’ll take that as a yes. What’s the deal with you and Miss Crimson, anyway?”

“I like seeing her.” San shrugs. “I like her company.”

“You barely know her outside of the strip club.”

“I believe that’s the point of getting to know her.” San says in a very matter-of-a-fact tone.

“Dude, I didn’t think you’d actually go for her.” San raises his brow.

“Why is everyone saying that? What’s so wrong about it?”

“Nothing! I really just thought you were trying toot it and boot it.”

“Hm.” All San can do is hum while he stirs the stirrer around in his cup. 

“But what about Noelle? You guys have that weird, toxic ex relationship thingy going on.” Wooyoung almost visibly shudders at the thought of their complicated relationship. So much back and forth, lying, getting in each other’s beds just to fulfill a need even though they don’t mean it for shit.

Yeah, toxic.

“Yeah, no. I’m done with that.”

“Mm, but you’ve said that before. You mean it? Like you’re actually over her because you genuinely like Y/N? Or, you’re done with it until you cave again?”

“I’m done with it.”

“Yeah, we’ll see.” Wooyoung takes a sip of his coffee. “I saw her texting you again.”

“I’m trying to tell her it’s done with.”

“Don’t see the urgency though, Mr. I-like-Y/N-and-I-enjoy-her-company. Out here breaking hearts in true Choi San fashion.” 

“Don’t say shit like that.” 

“Okay.” Wooyoung laughs, leaving him in the kitchen. San sighs to himself, a little tired, stressed even, about the whole Noelle situation. Truthfully, Wooyoung is right. Him and Noelle have too much history, too much baggage. Too much of that toxic shit. San is partially to blame because he does crawl back to her, he does cave pretty easily. And it’s not even because San wants to get back with her, no. He knows they can’t work out. All they do is bring out the worst in each other. 

But, Noelle is the only thing he’s known for awhile. She fills his void pretty well because it’s familiar territory. 

He’s done with it, though. He swears. He’s confused and not entirely sure where he sees this going right now, but you are intriguing. He sees you and his curiosity skyrockets. He wants to know more about you, and after last night, he feels like he can’t get enough of you. He wants more, and he’ll continue to show you that.

▹ END

“Yo.” Jongho’s eyes are barely peeking over the screen on the FaceTime call.

“What’s up?”

“What’re you doing?”

“Just hanging out. Eating some lunch.” You continue to poke at the salad you made. “How’s work?”

“Good, I guess. I’m grabbing some food right now from the shop down the street. How’s loverboy been?”

“Would you stop calling him that?”

“Well, what else is he, Y/N?” Jongho laughs a bit. 

“Not my loverboy.”

“Says you even though he drops by to bring you food and calls you nonstop.”

“He doesn’t call me nonstop.”

“Sorry, once a day.” He gives you a look. “Have you seen him lately?”

“No. He went to the club once last week. Said he’s been busy again with work. I feel like it’s something else, though.”

“Mmm.” Jongho hums. “You’re overthinking.”

“I’m not.”

“I can hear you from here. What is it?”

“He’s just been kinda weird lately.” 

“Distant?”

“Yeah. Maybe it is just work.”

“He’s probably just got way too much on his plate.”

“I shouldn’t even be thinking about it like this too much.” You finish up your salad. “It’s fine. I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Mm, okay. Well. Are you doing your usual shift at the club later?”

“Yeah.”

“How’s it been? Wanna hang out tomorrow before your shift?” He slightly pushes the phone away after placing his order and paying at the cashier.

“It’s the same old.” You sigh. “I’m down for that though.”

“Okay. I’ll come get you.” 

“Jongho.”

“Yeah?”

“Seeing San makes me question myself. I don’t know if that’s good or not.”

“In what way?”

“I just feel ashamed. It makes me wanna look for a different job and leave the club.”

“Well, okay. Are you still happy at the club, or do you wanna do something else?”

“I’m happy but I feel like I could do better.”

“Because of San or because of you? Kinda important to differentiate. If you’re still happy but feel like you could do better for you, then great! But, if you wanna do better just to impress San and do it for him, then no.”

“I feel so stupid. I mean, he drops me off at home. We see each other from time to time–”

“Have sex with each other from time to time–”

“Jongho!”

“What?” He laughs.

“You’re in public!”

“So?! It’s natural human behavior. My god.” He laughs a bit more. “I’m not wrong though.”

“It’s so dumb. I don’t even know what this is. Probably not even something to be questioning my life like this.”

“Has San ever said anything to make you feel that way?”

“No. In fact, he’s supportive about everything and didn’t make me feel terrible about my past decisions.”

“Then you’re overthinking again.” He thanks the staff before grabbing his bag of food. “Y/N, what did I tell you? Just let things be. Don’t make any rash decisions or start assuming things if everything is fine.”

“But is everything fine?”

“It sounds like it to me. He seems like a nice guy. You might wanna have that conversation about what you two are later on if things really haven’t progressed yet, but otherwise, I truly think he’s a nice guy and he’s probably just busy.”

“Jongho–” Suddenly, a few knocks come to your door, throwing you off guard mid-call.

“Guess that’s my cue to go. Text me about tomorrow.”

“Alright.” You say right before ending the call. You set your bowl aside in the kitchen before looking through the peephole on the door. To your surprise [or not], San is standing there on his phone with a small bag in hand.

“Hey.” You say, as you let him in. He smiles, but San doesn’t respond right away with the same enthusiasm. Instead, he shifts his attention to the text that came through on his phone before tucking it away and smiling at you.

“Hey. Sorry.” He hands you a small bag. “I bring pastries.”

“Mm, more pastries.” You tease with a giggle. “Thanks. What brings you here?”

“Sorry, I meant to text you but I forgot. I just wanted to see you since I haven’t been able to for a bit.” He kisses you on the cheek before making his way to your couch.

“Work’s been crazy, hm?” He sighs and leans his head back.

“Uh, yeah. It has been. But, it’s finally the weekend and I can kick back for a bit.” His hand comes up to run your back while you dig through the pastries he bought. “Did you eat already?”

“Mm, yeah. I just made a small salad. I’m not too hungry. Was on the phone with Jongho for a bit.”

“I see. You should eat a little more before your shift.”

“I will.” You look at him. “Are you guys going to the club tonight?” He nods.

“Mingi said he needs it.” You chuckle.

“Do you need it, too?”

“Kinda, but I’m here with you already and I get you all to myself.”

“You do that at the club, too.” You tease.

“Can’t help it.” San quietly looks at you while his arm is loosely around your waist. You observe him for a bit, trying to see if you can read into him or find any obvious signs of what else has been stressing him lately. He’s the same, except more tired, not as talkative or playful like he usually is. Your gut tells you it’s something deeper than work and you’re not sure how you’ll figure him out.

“San.”

“Mhm?” 

“You sure it’s just been work stressing you out?” He leans forward to meet your gaze with a small smile.

“Yeah. I’m sorry I haven’t really been myself lately.”

“No, it’s okay. You don’t have to apologize.”

“I missed you, though. I really missed you.” His finger is tracing soft circles against your hip. He dips forward to place a gentle kiss right below your earlobe, his soft, pink lips sending tingles down your spine. You shouldn’t be buckling this fast around San, but god, does he have you wrapped around his finger. He places a kiss at the corner of your lips and you instantly feel like jelly.

You missed him, too.

And you want him. Badly.

Before you know it, San is sitting up against the wall, watching you bounce on his dick like the good girl you are. He’s watching through hooded eyes; glued to the way your tits bounce, the way his cock slides in and out of you, the way you moan for him like all of this was made for you and you only.

“Fuck.” San groans, hands on your hips to guide you and slam you down onto his length. “You know how to ride me so well.” He watches as you begin to roll your hips against him, taking more control while riding him; it's pure ecstasy. Your moans, your movements, everything about it is just.. addicting. 

You have such a captivating presence, and San can't help but lose himself in you.

“Baby, if you keep working me like that, you’ll make me cum.” He moans, head resting back against the wall. Your hand rests on his neck, giving it a gentle squeeze as you feel yourself bubbling with pleasure. Your clit is rubbing against him deliciously, and you can’t help but sit back and ride him at a different angle. 

“Sannie.” You moan loudly. “Ohhhhshit.” Your words melt together when you suddenly feel yourself unraveling quicker than expected. “I’m cumming— fuck, fuck, fuck—“ You repeat like a mantra, hips working sloppily against him as you come undone; the sounds bouncing off the walls nothing short of pornographic.

“That’s my good girl.” San loves watching the way your face contorts in pleasure, the way you moan loudly, the way he could hear how wet you are. Once you’ve come down from your high, San wastes no time getting you on your fours— face down, ass up. He gives your ass a good knead, spitting onto your pussy before lining himself back up at your entrance. He pushes himself in and works at a steady rhythm, giving your ass a good smack. You let out another moan, tears pricking your lids at how sensitive you’re feeling right now. He’s fucking into you so good, your ass is clapping against him. “You look so good like this, baby. You like it when I fuck you like this, hm?” He gives your ass another smack, cheek red from the impact. “Does it feel good?”

“So good, San.” He moans loudly as he continues to piston into you.

“Your pussy was made for me.” He groans. “Whose is it, Y/N?”

“Y-yours.” You choke, cheek digging deep into the mattress. 

“Louder, babygirl. I can’t hear you.”

“Yours!”

“There you go.” He grunts, ass feeling numb from San fucking into you. The way he’s driving into you and hitting your spot at this angle feels so good, you feel the pleasure bubbling in your pit again. You raise yourself up a bit to rub at your clit, pushing your orgasm forward as San’s movements begin to get sloppy. “Shit, Y/N.”

“San, cum for me.” You egg him on as he begins to pant. Hearing him praise you and call your name pushes you over the edge once more, hands gripping at the sheets while you shudder from the second orgasm taking over. San quickly pulls out and unloads onto your ass, back.

“God.” He huffs as he gives himself one last pump and pants heavily. “So good for me. You okay, pretty girl?” His hand comes up your back, leaving a random trail of kisses along the way.

“Yeah.” You let out a breath.

“Let me clean you up. Don’t move.” He quickly runs to your bathroom to grab some wipes. “Gonna be kinda cold. I’m sorry.” He apologizes in advance before taking a wipe to your back.

“That feels kinda nice.” San chuckles, allowing you to lay back on your bed first before slipping in next to you post-cleanup.

“You feel nice.” You laugh, laying your head on his chest while he grabs his phone.

“So, what time are you guys heading to the club tonight?”

“I don’t know. Probably between 9-10pm?” 

“You know there’s an event tonight, right?”

“I heard.” San laughs. “Some male dancers are guesting at the club?”

“Yeah. They’ll be on the second stage, though.” San nods, a few texts coming into his phone. You can’t help but glaze over the previews, back to back texts coming in from a ‘Noelle.’ The messages aren’t too lengthy, but she is texting him quite a few times and the previews alone are enough to make your stomach twist and turn.

It’s making you anxious, and for some reason, your gut tells you this Noelle is significant to San. 

He’s not trying to pay attention to it right now though, and it’s probably just because he’s in your company post-sex. He briefly looks at the messages at the top, thumb coming up to swipe them away. 

“Is it just you guys?” You ask, wondering if San would open up to you otherwise.

“Uh, yeah. Pretty sure. Unless Mingi invites other people.”

“Mmm, okay.”

“I’m excited to see you on stage again.” He looks down at you with a smirk. 

“Yeah right.”

“Swear. Everyone knows I’m only there for you. It’s kinda nice to show it off.”

“Show what off?”

“That you’re mine.” He winks, making your heart melt into a puddle. You hate that San gives you these signals, but there hasn’t been much to it besides seeing each other occasionally outside of the club and fucking each other’s brains out. 

“Don’t say shit you don’t mean.”

“Who said I didn’t mean it?!” You shake your head and turn to your side, now going through your own phone. San gives you a kiss on the shoulders, hand coming up to rub your arm while he continues to plant random kisses at the nape of your neck, below your ear, jaw.

“Sannie, what are you doing?” You giggle, ticklish from the feeling of his lips against your skin.

“Kinda want you again.”

“Are you serious?” You turn to look at him and he smirks.

“Can’t help it. You drive me crazy.” His hand comes down to your thigh, giving it a squeeze. “Wanna keep taking care of you.”

“Do you, now?” You tease, letting San continue to kiss you; hand coming down and ghosting your clit. You decide to let San have you once more before he’s struggling to part from your lips, even as he’s about to head out the door. 

You blush watching him leave, excited to show off and see him tonight.

The night comes rather quickly because the club is incredibly packed with all sorts of people making their way in to see all of the dancers. You’re having to entertain on stage, deliver drinks and give a few private dances. It’s nothing beyond what you’re already used to doing, but the clientele is booming tonight and you’re constantly moving around all ends of the club.

It’s a little past 10pm when you catch wind of Mingi, Hongjoong, San and Wooyoung. And for a minute, your eyes light up. San immediately plops onto a chair, legs spread as he smirks. He gestures for you to come over with his finger and lightly taps his lap, making you giggle to yourself while you continue to perform a few tricks on the pole. 

“Gorgeous.” San eyes the high-cut bodysuit sitting on your body, showing off all your curves beautifully. 

“You made it.” You crouch down in front of him, hands trailing up his legs.

“Of course, why would I miss out some more?” He winks, stuffing a few bills in the slit of your bodysuit while you stand lean towards his ear. 

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“You?” You laugh.

“Cliché.”

“Kidding, baby.” He bites onto his bottom lip. “Can we get shots of whiskey?”

“All four of you?”

“Yes please, pretty lady.” Hongjoong smirks. “Bodysuit looks good on you.”

“Openly hitting on San’s woman is crazy.” Wooyoung laughs loudly.

“Just complimenting her.” 

“Yeah, keep it up.” San teases Hongjoong.

“Thank you. I’ll be back.” You smile at Hongjoong before stepping over to the bar to grab their shots. At this point, it feels like everything happens so quickly; the following moments, the rest of the night— all a blur. When you return to the four, they’ve added a few more to the group. And this time, it’s a group of 5 girls— one that is in a heated conversation with San off to the side. You slow your pace, watching as she clings around his waist, but he gently shoves her off and shakes his head. He heads back to his seat and she welcomes herself on his lap, ignoring everything that he had just done to her moments ago. San doesn’t seem entirely pleased being that he’s been trying to distance himself from her, but to no avail— you’ve already returned and he panics.

“Here.” You hand them their drinks, handing San’s last.

“Noelle, seriously. Can you please get off my lap?” Noelle. You can’t help but feel your heart fall to the pit of your stomach, though you’re trying your best to brush it off in the heat of the moment. 

“You’re such a killjoy.” She whines, sitting on the edge of the chair. 

“Thank you, love.” His look is unreadable when he reaches for his glass and so is yours. But, San knows you saw everything and he knows it all looks wrong. It, all of this, must seem so fucked up to you right now and he wishes he could just pull you aside to clear up the air.

“Thank you, Miss Crimson.” Mingi raises his shot glass to you.

“Is that the stripper San is into?” You overhear one of the girls ask, followed by a:

“He’s not serious, right? Her?” Noelle scoffs and you subtly roll your eyes, getting ready to head back to the bartender. You weren’t gonna let this girl get to you. Not today.

“Have a good night.” Is what you tell Wooyoung in passing, making him flash San a look shortly afterwards.

“Don’t think she’s too happy about Noelle being here.”

“I didn’t know they were actually coming either.” San glares at him, trying his best to shake off Noelle and continue to create some distance. He truthfully didn’t think Noelle and her friends were coming along. Mingi had briefly mentioned the event to them, sliding in a stupid joke about how much San loves coming solely because of you. She didn’t take it lightly, hence why she decided to come along even though their initial plan was to head to the regular club down the street. 

When San sees Noelle, he’s pretty irritated. The last time she was texting him, she was blowing up his phone about shit from the past and their relationship. Quite frankly, he no longer has energy to deal with her and he’s tired of the back and forth. He doesn’t wanna start any issues tonight since it seems too late to brush them off and he doesn’t wanna dampen the mood. He knows how clingy she gets and he knows how she can act when she feels him slowly slipping from her grip, especially if they’re together in person. The last thing San wanted to do was upset you, nor did he want you to think of him as an asshole who only wanted you for one thing. 

That was not his plan.

He knows you’re not happy and he knows he fucked up for even trying to brush this off, for hiding Noelle when he had no reason to.

“You aren’t actually into the stripper are you?” She questions San and he furrows his brows.

“It literally isn’t any of your business.”

“Wow, so you are? I came out tonight, hoping we could—”

“Oh god, enough of that shit. Not here.” Wooyoung sighs. “Let’s go enjoy ourselves, that’s the whole point of tonight, right?” Wooyoung tries to push his bestfriend to the main stage, leaving the girls to enjoy the men on the second stage. You’ve continued to deliver a few drinks around the other room before stepping back onto the main stage. In your peripherals, you can see San eyeing you; almost pleading for you to swing by his way.

Except, you don’t, and you start to entertain a few men on the other side of the stage. San feels his blood boil a little when he sees you giving your attention to another man, knowing full well you were doing this on purpose.

And you were. You weren’t exactly sorry about it.

Because you didn’t have time for this bullshit, and your job still needed to get done. At the end of the day, you are just a dancer. What more could you be to him? You temporarily feed into their fantasies, nothing more, nothing less.

The reality is hitting you more and more tonight.

It makes you feel stupid for having thought otherwise, for letting the possibility live longer than it should’ve.

You’re not sure if you have time to entertain someone who has all that baggage.

San comes around to see you in better view, watching as you crouch down with your legs cocked open; swiping two fingers across your tongue before running it over your [barely] clothed pussy. San clenches his jaw when the man in front of you leans forward with a huge smirk on his lips, holding a roll of bills in his hand.

“Uh oh.” Wooyoung instigates. “I told you so. In true Choi San fashion.”

“Stop that.” Wooyoung shrugs.

“Noelle’s here, hoping she could be the one to go home with you tonight. And that one—“ He points at you over his glass. “Thinks you’re toying with her emotions. Pick a fucking battle.”

“I already told you I was done with the whole Noelle thing. She doesn’t get it for whatever reason.” San slightly groans and clicks his teeth. “Why did Mingi invite them, anyway?”

“I don’t know? I can’t control that boy’s mouth. Besides, you know he’s been trying to get with Donna after those dates didn’t go well.” San sees you dip into a private booth with the guy, shutting the curtains closed without looking his way. He takes a sip of his drink, stepping closer to the stage to try and enjoy himself– ignoring the possibilities of what’s going on behind that curtain.

The club feels suffocating, and he wants out.

Especially when you seem to be taking your time in the booth.

“You wanna head out? Noelle and the girls wanna head down the street now. Said they’re bored of the guys already.” Mingi asks, pointing at the girls getting ready to head out to the next club down the street. 

“Already?” Hongjoong cocks a brow up. “We literally just got here.”

“Yeah, I guess they’re over it.”

“I mean, whatever. Just don’t ask me to leave the other club hella early.” Joong rolls his eyes. “Whose bright fucking idea was to invite them anyway?” He glares at Mingi.

“Sorry! I wanted to be nice and extend the invite. I didn’t think they’d be over it so quickly.”

“Right, you wanted to be nice and get into Donna’s pants.”

“Do you wanna stay back?” Wooyoung asks in San’s ear, but all San can do is shrug. “We don’t have to go with them.”

“Let’s just go, I’ll never hear the end of it if we stay back.” Wooyoung simply looks at him in return.

“Let’s go!” Mingi yells. San subtly looks back to try and see if you’re out of the booth, but Mingi is already shoving him towards the door– towards Noelle and her friends.

“Choi San, hurry up!” Noelle whines as she waits for him.

“Noelle, you don’t have to wait for me. You can go with your friends.”

“Why are you acting so mean tonight?” She tugs on his wrist, but he snatches it out of her grip. “It definitely can’t be about her, right?”

“Go have fun with your friends and I’ll worry about my own.” San doesn’t mean to sound like an asshole, but he’s truly tired of the back and forth between Noelle. He hates that she acts this way, and he hates that she’s here. He feels like the night has gone to waste because he won’t be able to fully enjoy himself.

On top of that, you’re livid with him.

Speaking of you— You’ve kept yourself close to the pole even though your client has asked you for a lap dance. Once, twice, maybe even thrice. He’s attractive, but your mind is glued to San and how terrible this night ended up playing out for you. Luckily, the client doesn’t seem to fight much against it; as long as he gets his fix of you somehow, he’ll take it. Tonight’s one of those nights where you’ll stay for the full 45 to get the extra money, to hide away from the rest of the crowd. 

One, two.

Twirl around the pole.

Three, four.

Invert and lean back.

Five, six.

Gently fall into the splits.

Seven, eight.

Bounce your ass on the stage. 

“You’re a fucking goddess.” He says, gently palming himself through his pants, forcing you to mask the disgust you feel watching him openly do that. Though, you’ve seen worse and you’ve trained yourself to have the thick skin needed in this industry. Right now, it hits differently. Because of San, because of Noelle.

Because of everything.

“You sure you can’t come down here and get on daddy’s lap? I think I’ve slipped you enough money to at least get a lapdance.”

“Sorry, not doing that tonight, love.” 

“Aw, why not? Not even for me?”

“Not for you. Or them.” You say, bending over to at least give him a peek of what he wants.

“You sure you’re not saving it all for someone else?”

“Nope.”

“Gonna have to come back on a better night then.” He bites his bottom lip. “You’re my favorite. I swear you drive me crazy.” The statement is enough to trigger San’s voice in your head, causing you to rush through the last bit of your pole dance before thanking the man for his time and tip.

When you step out of the booth, you no longer see San and his group and it instantly makes your heart clench. You didn’t know what to expect tonight, but you definitely didn’t expect San to leave so quickly with his friends—

With Noelle and her friends.

Now, you’re back to square one. You feel like a mere distraction, something that temporarily fills the void; nothing more, nothing less. You quickly head to the back to get some air and a moment to yourself, finding a few texts from San:

san: Y/N, i’m sorry. i didn’t know they were coming. mingi just invited them and didn’t really say anything about it.

san: i know you’re probably wondering about her and i can explain. it’s really not what it looks like. 

san: let me know when you’re off? i wanna take you home still. 

san: i wanna talk to you and see you. please.

You swallow the lump in your throat as you shut off the phone and ignore the texts. Even if you wanted to answer back, even if it fucking pains you to re-run through those texts, you keep your head up and throw on a brave face for the rest of your shift.

San is still your kryptonite, and you aren’t sure where to go from here.

You need to leave quickly enough to avoid running into San tonight. 

Guess you’d be taking your usual walk alone. 

You managed to dodge San and his friends on your way home that one awful night, ignoring his calls even as you’ve gotten comfy and tucked in your bed. San continued to blow up your phone into the next day until he realized you weren’t gonna answer him anytime soon.

And it sucked.

But, you needed to hold your ground. You needed to go back to the Y/N who worried about her own, the Y/N who didn’t let anything faze her even if she was hurt by loved ones, by friends.

You needed to go back to the Y/N who kept it real with herself and was proud of how far she’s come despite the ups and downs.

You hadn’t seen San come to the club, and it was probably his way of giving you the space that you indirectly asked for. And indeed, you needed this.

You needed to go back to the old Y/N and reprioritize.

“Hey baby.” Mia says, hand on the small of your back as you dab a bit of lip gloss onto your lips.

“Hey.”

“How’re you doing?” She brushes your hair back and gives you a small, sympathetic smile.

“I’ve seen better days.” You let out a chuckle.

“You haven’t texted him back?” You shake your head.

“No. I don’t really know what to say. I just feel kinda dumb. Maybe we were just meant to be a thing in passing.”

“Don’t say that. I know he had some feelings for you, and I know the situation was unique. But, nobody would go through all that effort if it didn’t matter to them.”

“Mm, yeah, He just has some baggage he has to deal with and I don’t think I have time or energy for that.”

“For all you know, it could just be her.”

“But, why hasn’t he officially let her go then?” Mia pouts a bit.

“I think he’s over it. He didn’t seem all that interested in her at all.” She nods. “Talk to him, hun. Let him explain. It might just be a misunderstanding.”

“Yeah, maybe.” She gives you a reassuring smile.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

“I know, babe. Thanks.” You give her a toothless smile, letting out a small squeal when she slaps your ass.

“Now get out there and do your thing, the clients are waiting.” You chuckle and shake your head, taking one last look in the mirror before you head out to the main stage. You strut your way across the floor, doing your usual sweet talk with a few of the men lining the stage. You take the stage for a bit and do your usual routine, letting them slip their bills wherever they can under your gear, or shower the stage with a few more extra tips. Just as you were getting into the swing of things, you catch San walking in by himself. You almost lose track of your thoughts, distracted by how good he looks. He’s sporting simple slacks and a gray-striped button up with chelsea boots, rolex on his wrist. He looks around the club before his eyes land on yours, and you suddenly feel like you’ve lost the ability to move, to dance.

▹ FLASHBACK

“I’ve never seen you this sulky. It’s kinda annoying.” Wooyoung plops next to San on the couch, watching as he slouches and lazily texts back on his phone.

“Fuck off.”

“I’m assuming she’s not answering your texts or calls yet?”

“Nope.”

“Down bad.”

“Are you here to help or to get on my nerve?” San glares at his bestfriend.

“Why don’t you just go see her?”

“I don’t wanna cross boundaries and be in her space, especially if she’s already not answering my texts or calls.”

“Maybe this is what she needs, though. She’s probably still assuming shit about Noelle. Which, by the way, I hope you ended it. For real.”

“I did. That’s why she was hella upset during the last half of the club and I left.”

“I thought you left to go after Y/N. Where exactly did you go?” 

“I mean, partially. I was gonna go after her and bring her home, but I was too late. The other half of me was pissed off because Noelle kept crying and trying to gaslight me. I told her I didn’t wanna do this anymore. Was tired of it. I told her we just don’t work and it’s time for us to move on.”

“‘Bout time you realized.” Wooyoung rolls his eyes. “I know you have love for her and I know she meant a lot to you, but that girl is crazy. You continued to feed into it, too.”

“Yeah, well.” 

“Just go see Y/N, dude. You look terrible.” San flips him off. “I mean it. If you want shit to change, then keep taking initiative.”

“I just don’t wanna scare her off. I already fucked up enough with this whole Noelle thing.”

“Damn, what did Y/N do to you?” Wooyoung laughs. “I truly didn’t think you’d end up finding your boo thing at the strip club. I’d like another thank you if this all goes well.” He smirks. “Thank you Wooyoung for making us go to the club on my birthday.” He says in a sing-song tone.

“Yeah, yeah.” San sighs. “I’ll probably head to the club tonight and try to talk to her.”

“Want me to come? Moral support.” He shakes his head.

“Thanks, but I think I’ll be good.”

▹ END

You quickly head off the stage and head to the bar, switching gears to take a break from the stage. You scurry along, hoping you aren’t making it too obvious that you’re trying to deflect and avoid San yet again. 

But, he knows. 

“Y/N, hey. Wait.” San says as you brush past him, hand gently coming to your wrist. You wiggle out of his grip, giving him a look as you continue on to the next room. “Y/N.” He continues to call, hurriedly following after you. “Y/N, please.” He says as he comes to your side while you gather a few drinks onto your tray.

“San, what? I’m working.” You respond, still keeping your attention to the drinks.

“Why haven’t you been answering my texts or calls?”

“Because.”

“Because, what? I didn’t mean to leave early without saying anything to you that night. I wanted to come back and take you home.”

“Oh, but Noelle didn’t let you, right?” 

“Y/N, please don’t do that. That’s not even what happened—” San has his hand around your wrist again, his eyes pleading for you to hear him out. 

“Aye, come on, my guy.” An unfamiliar man from the crowd comes in between you and San, ripping his hand away from your wrist. “Care to share? Stop being so selfish and gatekeeping her—”

“The fuck are you?”

“I see you come into this club with your friends, acting all high and mighty. You heard what I said.” He steps closer towards San. “Stop being so fucking selfish with her, hm? She’s for the crowd, baby’s meant to be shared—” The man suddenly slaps your ass and it turns a switch on for San. San pushes him away, causing the other man to lose his footing before attempting to swing at him.

“Stop that!” You try to yell, hoping it’d somehow break them apart. San is quick to dodge the first swing, but he gets unlucky with the second. San is quick to regain his composure, throwing a punch to him and causing him to fall to the ground. He towers over him and continues to lay a few more punches while you yell at security for assistance. “Quit it! San, stop! Stop it!” You repeat, prying him off of the man on the floor. “San!” You grip his bicep and pull him back.

“Fucking idiot.” San spits, hand coming to his jaw to ease the soreness. 

“Get them out of here!” You tell security and San furrows his brows at you.

“Y/N—”

“Out. Now!” You repeat yourself, following after security as they get their hands on both San and the other guy, escorting them out of the club. One shoves the other man through the front entrance, while the other shoves San out of the side entrance. You’re already following behind, signaling for security that it’s okay for him to leave you alone with San. He gives you a curt nod as he walks around the corner— giving you enough distance that allows privacy, but also allows him to step in if necessary. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“I wasn’t gonna let him talk about you like that, Y/N. Don’t ask me that fucking question.”

“It’s my job.” You remind him. “I meant what are you doing here?! Why did you come here, San?”

“I came here to talk to you!” His tone raises. “You aren’t answering my texts or calls, and all I wanna do is make this right. What do you expect me to do?”

“Let it go.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because, San. What is it to you, anyway?”

“Are you serious?” He sighs, running his hand through his hair. “If you would just give me one second to talk to you—“ He pauses and lets out a frustrated sigh. “Y/N. All I want to do is talk to you and explain. I don’t wanna leave things like this.” He lowers his voice and steps closer to you.

“Then talk.” You cross your arms and shift your weight from one foot to another.

“Y/N, me and Noelle are done with. We’ve been done with for awhile. She’s my ex and we’ve gone through some shit but it’s over with.” He lets out a breath, the air cold and crisp against your skin. “Mingi invited them that night, and I just didn’t wanna cause any issues between us and ruin the night. She threw herself on me and I had been asking her to stop. I didn’t ask her to do that, nor did I want to entertain it. I shouldn’t have left with them though, I knew how that would look, too. I’m sorry. I promise you it meant nothing. I even told Noelle she needed to move on that night. I came back to the club, but you had already left.”

“San.” You shake your head. “Why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why me?”

“Y/N, I really do like you.”

“But, that’s the problem. You don’t even see the issue with this.”

“What issue?!

“Us! That’s the fucking issue, San! We come from such different lives, does that not bother you? We’ll never be on the same page, we’ll never work.” San furrows his brows, trying his hardest to take the blow even though it hurts to.

“Why would you say it like that? I don’t care about how different our lives are. That doesn’t matter to me–”

“It does to me!”

“Why?! I don’t care what people think and so shouldn’t you! Wouldn’t we be enough?”

“It’s so easy for you to say because you don’t know what it’s like to be on my side of things.”

“Then, let me know!” San raises his voice before running his hand through his hair. “Y/N, I would never take advantage of you. Never in my mind did I ever think of you that way. Why won’t you let me be here for you?”

“Because San, you had me thinking I was stupid. I felt like you were here for one thing, and it made me question everything about myself, my life. I hated feeling that way. I even compared myself to Noelle at one point.”

“She’s nothing to me! I’m sorry for having hid that from you, but I didn’t think much of it at the time since the whole thing caught me off guard. She means nothing to me, and we’re done with. I’m sorry.” For some reason, you are torn. You want to believe San, and there is a small part of you that does. However, you still can’t get over the fact that he still kept her close for lord knows how long. What if he was balancing you both at the same time? How could you know he was for sure over her and that this wasn’t just a phase?

“What if this is just a phase to you, huh? What happens when you realize how much we don’t work? That we’re just too different? That maybe she or someone else is a better fit for you all along.” Your bottom lip trembles and even though you try to hide it, San catches on. “This is my life, and it won’t change for awhile.”

“Stop putting words in my mouth and choosing how I should feel. That’s not how this works. I caught feelings for you, Y/N. Genuinely. None of our differences mattered to me, and it won’t ever. I’m sorry you felt that way and that was never my intention.” San says calmly, but god, is he terrified right now. He is anxious. Nervous. Scared. And as much as you wanna cave, you remember you are outside of the club in the freezing cold.

Arguing with San.

“San, you know what? This is enough.”

“Y/N.” He pleads through his tone.

“Please just go home.” You point at the side door before nervously rubbing at your sides. “We should talk about this another time. Not here.”

“O-okay, so are you gonna answer my texts or calls then?”

“I’ll text you, okay?” You look at him with some remorse. Right now, you don’t think you’re ready to talk to him and you probably need to sort out your thoughts before the next time. Or else, you’ll continue to try blaming him, the situation. You’ll continue to deflect, you’ll continue to let San’s words brush over your head because you aren’t used to this genuine attention— these genuine feelings, genuine intentions.

San doesn’t say anything else, but his expression makes your heart break more. You let out a sigh before turning on your heel to get back into the club and finish your shift. As soon as the door shuts and acts as a barrier between you two, a few tears escape your lids. You quickly brush them away and shake off the feelings, storming out onto the main stage to finish your night strongly.

You need Jongho.

“This fucking sucks.” You tuck your knees to your chest as Jongho sighs and pours you another shot of tequila.

“Why don’t you text him, Y/N? Just talk to him.”

“I’m kinda scared. And nervous.” You take the shot with him.

“Why? He’s literally waiting for you to text him. You’ve just been big sad over him too, don’t you think that’s a sign?”

“What am I supposed to say?”

“Oh, I don’t know, ‘hey, can we talk?’ maybe?” Jongho gives you a look before shaking his head. “I love you, but dude. Get it together. You should just talk to him and stop putting yourself through this. You obviously like the guy and he feels the same way. The whole thing with his ex was just a misunderstanding, too. What exactly are you trying to put off?”

“I think I’m just scared. You know how it was with my ex. He wasn’t nice and also made me feel ridiculously stupid and incompetent for my decisions. Even after the break up.”

“Yeah, but he’s your ex for a reason. San is not the same person.” Jongho pours you another shot. “I understand you’re scared. But, you can’t shield yourself off from everything forever. I truly think he’s a genuinely nice guy.”

“Plus, I worry about him too. How would his friends feel about us being serious? His family, his sister?” 

“I’m sure it’ll all be fine. San isn’t even worried about that, nor does he seem to care. It doesn’t matter where you come from. They should be able to see what kind of person you are and the heart you have.” 

“Mm, yeah. I just worry too much. I don’t want my life to bleed into his and ruin the shit he’s built for himself.”

“It won’t. Jeez, you aren’t a criminal Y/N. You’re great at everything you do and you’re incredibly talented. You have a lot of qualities that could take you far.” There’s another pause, enough for you and Jongho to take the last shot to the neck before you pull out your phone and click on San’s text thread.

“Fuck it.”

“Exactly.” He sips on some soda to wash down the tequila burn. “By the way, I’m never talking about you that way again.” Jongho visibly shudders, making you playfully hit him on the shoulder. 

you: hi, sorry for the random text. can we talk?

You toss your phone aside and dig your face into your hands, nervous about the text back. Granted, it’s only been close to a week and a half after the whole thing went down at the club. Time moves so fast that part of you felt terrible for making San wait in general. But, it should be a testimony to how he truly feels about you.

“What if he’s over it?” You groan into your hands.

“Then at least you know, right? You can close that chapter and move on.” Jongho takes a bite of his chicken. “Highly doubt it though.” At this point, the phone dings behind Jongho and he’s quick to grab it for you— flashing you San’s name on the screen.

“Fuck.” You whine.

san: hey. don’t apologize. of course we can. should i swing by your place soon?

“I’ll drop you off in a bit.”

“Are you sure you’re good? I can ask him to pick me up.”

“Actually, yeah. Ask him.” You chuckle as Jongho pours another shot for himself.

you: yeah, but i’m at jongho’s. do you think you can pick me up?

san: yeah i can, love. just send me the address.

“He always gets so sweet. I can’t do this.” You send San Jongho’s address.

“Yes you can!” Jongho responds. “Here, drink.” He pushes your water glass towards you. “So you don’t feel like shit later.”

san: on my way. 20 mins.

“Thanks for the food and drinks. For letting me be a crybaby. You know, the whole nine.” Jongho chuckles and nudges you on the arm.

“I got you, dude. You’re my bestfriend. I won’t let you go through these things alone.” 

“I guess I’ll keep you updated?”

“Take your time. And just be honest with him, alright? Be straight up about how you feel with everything.”

“I will.” 

When San arrives a bit after 20 minutes, you grab your things and bid your bestfriend farewell. You feel nervous, palms sweating the more you fiddle with your fingers and head down the steps to San’s car. Once you catch wind of him, you pause in your steps just to give yourself a tiny breather before committing and approaching his passenger door. He’s in a black shirt and sweats, glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. 

“Hey.” You say as you climb in, San giving you a small smile.

“Hey. You good to go?” You buckle your seatbelt and nod, allowing San to drive off to your studio. “Did you work at the shop today?”

“Mhm, I worked an earlier shift to get off at the same time as Jongho.”

“You guys just hung out?”

“Yep. Drank, ate some food. Talked about some things.”

“Some things?”

“You.” You give him a look and he nods.

“Fair enough.”

“What have you been up to?”

“Work. I’ve been working from home lately since there isn’t much requiring me to come into the office.”

“Been busy?”

“Yup, but I’ve seen worse days.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” He lets out a small chuckle as he continues to drive on. The rest of the drive to your place is quiet, but nothing feels weird or awkward. It’s surprisingly a comfortable silence and it’s probably due to the fact that you two have missed each other even though you’re both still trying to gather your thoughts.

When he pulls up into a spot on the street, San shuts off the car and immediately runs to your side to help you out. He follows behind as you lead the way, quietly unlocking your door and tossing the keys off to the side. San sits on your couch and lets out a sigh, watching as you plop next to him after grabbing some water.

“Want anything else to drink?”

“I’m okay.” He gives you a small smile. You turn to face him, a leg tucked under the other that’s swung over the edge of the couch.

“Thanks for picking me up.”

“Of course.”

“Can we talk about what’s been happening? I just really need you to be honest with me, that’s all I ask.”

“I’ll always be honest with you, Y/N. It was never my intention to make it seem otherwise.”

“Well, after everything, I did feel pretty stupid. You knew I was already doubting myself after I lost my family and friends because of my decisions. For a second, I felt like you tricked me and that I was stupid not to realize you only wanted me for one thing.” San shakes his head, but he continues to let you talk. “I started questioning myself more and I hated the feeling. I knew I couldn’t be enough for you, or that I was completely different from girls in your past. And it felt terrible. I couldn’t help but jump to conclusions that night because who am I compared to her? I’m living such a different life and I honestly wouldn’t blame you if you realized that.” You shrug. “Anyway, I felt shitty because I genuinely had feelings for you even though I was scared. I still am, especially because I don’t know if this is just a phase or what.” You feel the tears pricking your bottom lids again but you do your best to prevent San from catching on. You look down at your hands, fiddling with your sweater sleeves. You feel San shift closer to you, his hand coming up to your cheek.

“Can you look at me please?” Your eyes shift back up to him, and you feel the butterflies in your stomach the moment you two lock eyes. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.” He says softly, his thumb caressing your cheek. “I really didn’t mean to. That whole thing Noelle—” He sighs. “I’m not gonna lie, it’s been a ride with her. But meeting you and getting to know you made me realize how much I didn’t wanna be stuck in that anymore. It made me realize how much I craved normalcy with someone, something that doesn’t have to be so sad and toxic all the damn time.” He lets out a breath. “I know it sounds dumb that it took me all of this to realize, but I mean it. You make me feel things I haven’t felt in such a long time. It feels good.” He does a subtle nod. “I feel happy and good around you.”

“San, you just scare me.” A few tears stream down your cheeks and San is the first to catch them; gently wiping it away while he keeps his eyes locked onto yours. “Our lives are so different, I can’t help but worry about how this is gonna make things turn out in the future. Your family, your friends—”

“My friends are fine, they know how I feel about you. And my family knows they can’t dictate everything about my life. You—” He pauses. “Y/N, you aren’t any different just because of what you do. What matters is the kind of person you are, how you genuinely make me feel. None of that matters.”

“You know it isn’t gonna be that easy.”

“So be it. I know you’re scared, but I’m with you on this.” He runs his other thumb across your lip. “We can figure this out, okay? We can take this slow and figure it out together. I’ll stop heading to the club with the guys and be there for you in many other ways. Just know that I’m gonna support you no matter what, I’m not like everyone else. Fuck all of them.” He gives you a small, reassuring smile. “I’m sorry.” He repeats. You can’t help but lean into his hand and let out a shaky breath, kissing the palm of his hand before returning your gaze on him. His smile grows, making him plant an eager kiss on your forehead, to the tip of your nose.

Lips.

“Are we okay?” He whispers against your lips and you nod. “Can I have you then?” He whispers against your lips in between another kiss. “Make it up to you?” Another kiss. “Show you how I really feel?” You nod, giving San leverage to scoop you into his arms and carry you to your bed. He gently lays you down and is quick to shed off your clothes, admiring every inch of you. San tosses his glasses onto your nightstand before placing random trails of kisses along your body, kissing every scar, every curve, every tattoo; everything about you still continues to drive him crazy. Today, San takes his time. Though he’s eager to show you how you make him feel, he decides he’s gonna take his time with you. 

Even when he laps at your pussy, your clit, making you cum within minutes of being positioned in between your thighs.

Even when he rocks his hips into you— it’s a slow and steady pace, enough to make you feel every inch of him.

Even when he sits back onto his knees, letting you ride him.

His hands run up your sides while your hands are tangled in his hair, rolling your hips against him steadily, slowly, letting him feel every inch of you. He moans against your neck before placing wet kisses on the surface, hands now gripping tighter as he feels himself nearing his high. Everything is so intimate, so raw, so close— San can’t keep his lips off of you and hearing your moans bounce off of the walls adds to the pleasure. Your clit is rubbing deliciously against him, causing you to bite onto his bottom lip before tilting your head back in pleasure.

“Gonna cum, baby.” He groans in between open-mouthed kisses. “Be my good girl and cum with me.” You furrow your brows in pleasure, hands gripping his jaw as you continue to deeply kiss him, your climax heightening at your gut.

“Sannie.” You whine, unable to form any thoughts.

“You know how to fuck me so well. You’re perfect.” He hisses, the pleasure almost feeling too intense with how much he’s having to hold back. You start to rock your hips at a messier pace when you feel yourself climbing, moan loudly and gripping the ends of San’s hair when you finally come undone. He almost whines when he feels you twitch against him, hissing at how good you feel wrapped around him. San quickly lays you back and pounds into you, releasing his seed and painting your walls white. 

The both of you stay stationary for a second, panting and regulating your breathing once you’ve come back down from cloud nine. San brushes the hair away from your face and adoringly looks into your eyes, placing a kiss on your lips before slowly sliding himself out of you.

“Let’s get cleaned up.” He jogs over to your bathroom and turns on the shower, waiting for the water to reach a perfect temperature before grabbing you. 

While in the shower, San makes sure to lather your body with soap, giving your back and shoulders a good massage before rinsing off. You follow suit, giggling when you plop a few bubbles on his nose and cheeks. The best thing about the shower is that San doesn’t pressure you for more, no. He showers you with kisses, surely showing you just exactly what you mean to him through the action alone.

After the shower, you climb into bed with San, letting him take you into his arms while you turn on some music to softly fill the background. He gently strokes your hair, and hums along, keeping you close in his warm embrace.

“San.”

“Yeah?”

“You know what I want to do in the future?”

“What’s that?”

“I wanna own my own dance studio and teach. Help people grow their confidence and embrace their sexiness.” San chuckles. “You know? People get shy about these things or hide because they feel like they can’t dance or be sexy.”

“You’d be an amazing teacher for that.” You giggle.

“Hopefully one day.”

“We’ll make it happen. No matter how long it takes, hm?” He hums. “I got you.” You look up at San and stare at the galaxies he holds in those beautiful, brown orbs. What you did to deserve someone like San, you’ll never know— but you’ll take it as a gift from the universe; a gift that shows how proud the universe is of you for never giving up and for staying true to yourself.

For once, everything feels right. Everything seems to be where it should be. Everything in your life, as it is now, is what’s meant to be. And out of all the changes the universe has brought you, you’re at least thankful for this; for that moment San walked into the club, for the moment you took the first leap.

“You got me?” You tease and he nods.

“I got you.”

▹ taglist: @itsvxlentine @vantediary @certifiedmoa @asjkdk @bintificreads @frobin4ever @persphonesorchid

#san x reader #choi san x reader #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #san fanfic #choi san fanfic #choi san imagines #san imagines #choi san #san #ateez #ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez angst #san smut #san angst #choi san angst #choi san smut #kpop imagines #hwaslayer: crimson

[justporo]

I love to imagine that after everything is done, the city is saved, Astarion and Tav bought their house and settled down: they just stay in bed for a week.

Even though it might not be more than a mattress on the ground and there is barely anything else in the house.

Exhaustion just hits and they just want to feel cozy and comfortable 100% of the time, only going out to get some food for Tav and wine for them both. And they mostly just cozy up naked or at maximum wearing underwear or Tav just wears Astarion's shirt.

They just have sex whenever desire hits them because now they just can and for the moment there are no distractions, no worries, no fear. They can just hardcore hit the honeymoon phase where they can barely keep their hands off each other and a single look can be enough to start blazing flames.

But they also just lay there, cuddle, relax, talk - maybe Tav starts doing somersaults on the mattress because they were never able to do that as a kid and almost whack Astarion in the face while giggling like mad.

And they talk lots. Of course they did that before but it's different now because they have something they weren't sure of before: a future. And they plan their future, talk through all kinds of differents possible versions - even the most ridiculous ones. They talk about the most mundane things, like what colour curtains they want or what kind of wine glasses they'd like, what way bread should be stored and - "I have nerver ONCE in my life thought about duvet covers, Astarion - not even once." "Well, a nice point to start then, isn't it, my heart? Because silk looks amazing but I'm pretty sure you would like linen more..."

Or they joke until they're crying laughing, half hanging off the mattress or on each other and they can't breathe anymore because they both have never felt this light and safe in their life.

Maybe Astarion tries to teach Tav something: like how to let a coin wander over your knuckles or another language or he just talks about something like his favourite artworks and the history behind it and promises Tav to take them to a museum and show them more.

And even after the initial phase is over and they actually decide it's time to spend some time out of bed and finally get a real furniture, it becomes their little safe haven. The place where they always can be absolutely intimate in every kind of way and can be safe and comfortable - and at home.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #fanfiction #baldur's gate iii #astarion x tav #bg3 spoilers #baldurs gate #astarion x mc #astarion x oc #astarion x reader #astarion headcanon #astarion headcanons #imagine #bg3 imagine #poro headcanons

[youcancallmeelle]

She’s got a boyfriend anyway…

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI)

Word count: 7K

Warnings: Semi public sex, Missionary, Cowgirl, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Teasing, Sneaking around, Secret relationship, Brief David mention, Ellie being a menance, Tommy trying to play matchmaker.

Summary: Tommy has been trying to set Joel up for AGES, he’s got other interests.

Or

You and Joel have secretly been seeing each other.

A03

Read below…

Life in Jackson is promising, nearly a year and half here and Joel feels comfortable, no longer itching for a way out of civilisation because he’s just not used to that no more. Ellie is settled too - finally. She’s attending school three days a week, enjoying the new responsibilities that come with being sixteen and the tad bit of freedom it brings. She helps out at the stables, in the kitchen too but she’s not a fan. She likes being in the library most, checking in and out books, tidying shelves, using her art to create eye catching displays aimed at the younger generation of Jackson.

Joel is proud, his heart feels like it could burst out of his chest all the time. Ellie is still full of wit and charisma that comes out in curses and daft puns that make Joel roll his eyes and get her in a headlock until she’s laughing so hard she’s pink in the face.

There’s times when she skips school completely if a male teacher has subbed in, she flinches away if someone comes too close and sometimes if it’s stew night at dinner, she’ll stare blankly into her bowl at the chunks of meat and see a severed ear, she’ll try to swallow but gag instead. These are nights Joel gives her his bread and Tommy will too, then he’ll make her a fruit salad when they get home with a little double cream poured over it.

The nightmares are persistent on these bad days where triggers occur, he finds Ellie in bed screaming and thrashing multiple times a week. She’ll sob and cry hoarsely as he holds her, hushing her gently and resting his cheek on her head. Most of the time she’ll fall back asleep with him beside her, curled into him like she did back at Silver Lake when death was close.

But mostly, everything’s okay.

Joel had been with Tommy every single day this week so far and it was Thursday evening, they’d been focusing on fixing up the bathroom in a house way further down from his, they were getting it ready for a family that had expanded to move in. The floor was rotten and the pipes wrecked, neither of them were particularly fond of plumbing but they sorted it between them. There was still the kitchen to do but that was a job for tomorrow and probably Saturday too but not Sunday, that was his day with Ellie.

Sunday’s were for late breakfasts of bacon and pancakes - before and after the world ended. The only thing that changed was the kid for Joel, he used to serve Sarah indulgent breakfasts on a Sunday and they’d do something together and the tradition was carried on with Ellie and Sarah remained tucked in his heart.

Tired and stiff from working hunched over all day, Joel was enjoying a quiet drink with Tommy. They were tucked away on a small table with two stools, Joel would have preferred something with a back but beggars can’t be choosers; he was grateful for the cold glass of bourbon nearly empty in front of him and the sound of Dire Straits playing over the old speakers.

As always, Tommy is picking and prying into his lack of a love life. Since he’s noticed his older brother being more settled within the community, he’d been trying his hardest to set him up with various women and Tommy Miller was nothing if not persistent.

At this point in the day, Tommy’s voice is almost just white noise.

“Cath is nice.” Tommy pointed out, Joel snorts.

“She’s also gay, Tommy.”

“Oh shit, really? I didn’t know.”

“Clearly. Can we please stop talking about this? It’s the same thing every fuckin’ time I come drinking with you.” Joel begs, Tommy sighs heavily but drops it for now.

Joel takes in the scenery as he sits there, grateful for the moments silence from Tommy. His eyes stray to the left of the table and he listens as you speak to Denton, an older gentleman in his late sixties with a love of horses. He’s quizzing you about the new mare in the stables, he hears you mention checking on her again after your shift because she’s been particularly temperamental since she was brought in from outside but you’ve developed a nice bond with her, she’s slowly becoming more trusting.

It occurs to Joel that everyone likes you - literally everyone, even Ellie and she was a tough nut to crack. You’re sweet, soft spoken yet confident. You’re always helping out where you can; on patrols, stable duty, in the communal garden, sometimes at the school and also here at the bar when Darius needs his shift covered.

You find good things on patrol and give them to Joel or Ellie before taking the rest for the community, so they get first pick of everything.

You’re just the sweetest thing.

Tommy sees you and beckons you with a friendly wave, you mutter a goodbye to Denton and pat his hand.

“Hey.” You hear your name called over the music and you turn as Tommy Miller grabs your attention as you scoop up two glasses and an empty bowl that once held nuts and dried berries from the table two away from his and Joel’s.

“Yes, Miller?” You patter over with your hands occupied, you sneak a look at his older sibling, sparing him a wink as a greeting, he smirks softly back.

“Has Darius got an other fuckin’ music or are we strictly limited to the sounds of 1985 tonight?” He questions and you laugh, shaking your head.

“You don’t like Dire Straits?”

“He doesn’t appreciate good music.” Joel interjects, shaking his head at Tommy.

“I do - but other music. Eminem or even fuckin’ Britney! Anything but this shit.” Tommy groans, tossing his head back.

“Keep talking smack about Dire Straits, Miller - and I’ll snitch to your wife about the fact you’ve switched patrols with Mark twice this week because you were too hungover to go.” You smile sweetly at Tommy, tilting your head.

“Snitches get stitches.” Tommy remarks playfully, not an ounce of malice in his dark brown eyes and your eyebrows rise, you beam back.

“That right? Well, troublesome men get barred for life.”

“Oooooh.” Joel chimes in, looking amusedly between you and his younger brother.

“Touché.” Tommy quips, folding his arms.

“Tell you what, next time I’m in, I’ll have a rummage out back and see if I can find you some Britney. Bless you.” You pinch his cheek as you walk past and he swats your hand, rubbing the spot while Joel laughs.

“You’re pushing your luck giving her lip, I’m not sure if you’re aware but this is the only operational bar in Wyoming.”

“Tell me about it.” He grumbles back, Joel shakes his head once more as the door behind Tommy on the back wall opens.

“Joeeeeeel?!” He hears yelled from close by, he looks up and sees Ellie dragging her sneakers across the floor, scouring the bar for him with her honey coloured eyes eagerly. She spots him within seconds, beaming and practically skipping over to him and Tommy in the corner. “There you are, I looked fucking everywhere for you.” She groans dramatically, throwing her head back. “I wanna go out, I’m bored shitless at home. There’s nothing for me to do and yes - I’ve done my school work.” She quickly adds.

“You done those quadratic equation questions we were going over last night?” He raises his eyebrow.

“Yep. Easy peasy lemon squeezy, though I did ask my teacher because I’m pretty sure you were figuring them out wrong. You were, by the way.” Joel puffs indignantly, rolling his eyes. Ellie spins to Tommy, the soles of her shoes squeaking. “Can I try that?” She’s laser focused on the bourbon swimming between globes of ice in Tommy’s glass.

“What have I said the last twenty times you’ve asked, El?” Tommy’s dark brows are high on his forehead, his mouth is twisted with hidden laughter. Ellie rolls her eyes with annoyance, sloping over to Joel now.

“No.” She huffs, swinging her lanky arms around Joel. She hums and rubs her face into his shoulder bone, resting there for a second before her attentions shifts comically fast. There’s a warmth that spreads through Joel every single time she does this, she’s so casual about it and he’s drawn the conclusion that it’s a teenage thing because Sarah was the same. There’s a sadness that blossoms too, a darkness that twists and anchors in his chest as he thinks of her and who she’d be now. He can’t dwell for too long, not now - he did that for too long.

At one dark point in time, human connection was not key to survival, hence why he always kept Tess at arms length and then referred to Ellie as cargo until one snowy day it became apparent she was no longer cargo when she was frenzied and panting in his arms, splattered with the blood of a predator and gasping like she was taking her last breath. The sound haunted him for a long time, all memories of Sarah hitting him like a freight train. He had to protect Ellie, the minute he drew her in - oh baby girl - and held her tightly, wrapped in his coat and clinging to him just as hard.

Ellie’s his kid now. She’s his. He’s hers. They’re a family. Ellie Williams Miller - that’s how she’s known now. It’s scrawled on her school books. The love he feels for this human tornado in sneakers is unmatched, the one thing he’s ever been truly good at has been restored and it’s a role he knows well; being a father.

Sure, this teenager that he’s raising is the furthest from bubblegum pink and Avril Lavigne she could be, she’s particularly jagged around the edges and does have the temperament of an unsocialised cat that will bite if you get too close.

He looks down at her, rubbing into him like she’s trying to get his smell on her because it’s comforting and she feels safe and feels his heart ready to burst.

Of course the sweet moment of affection is shattered when Ellie yawns directly into his fucking ear because why wouldn’t she?

He grunts when she bears most of her weight on his aching shoulders, leaning easily into him and twisting her small fingers into his flannel.

“So? Can I go or not?” She presses.

“Go where?” He prompts, raising his eyebrow.

“Toni’s from school. Her cat had kittens a few weeks ago and they’re starting to play. Five of them, Joel! That’s a lotta kittens!” Ellie enunciates, brown eyes wide and Joel can’t help the smile that graces his otherwise tired face.

“You mean a litter?” He corrects and Ellie pauses, frowning.

“Huh?”

“A bunch of kittens is a litter, Ellie.” He informs her and she somehow manages to frown even more, she makes a noise like she’s computing the new information.

“Yeah, whatever.” She mumbles, Tommy snorts in amusement. “So I can go see them?” She presses, shifting her weight again and Joel groans louder now, unhooking her arms from his shoulders with a quiet ‘don’t do that, baby’ that’s full of affection.

“Yes but you’re back at nine latest, okay? Nine. I’ll be waiting for you, the minute those street lamps turn on, you’re home.” Joel says, Ellie’s mouthing along to his instructions that he’s been laying out since Summer began and the evenings stretched longer. “Be good.” He speaks more softly now and she nods, he presses a kiss to the side of her head, her eyelashes flutter happily as the warmth blossoms in her too with the security that’s Joel Miller.

“Peesh. I’m always good. Bye Tommy!” She says excitedly, fist bumping him when it’s offered.

“See ya, squirt.” Tommy replies but before he’s even voiced his reply, Ellie’s hurrying away and knocking into a patron while waving to you on the way out of the door so hard it slams. Joel sighs, thinking she’s a literal hurricane.

The door hinge has barely stopped shaking before Tommy starts with the suggestions of suitors once more.

“What about Myleene?” Tommy proposes, Joel shakes his head quickly, downing the remainder of his drink.

“Too young.” He replies.

“She’s twenty five.”

“Too young.” He repeats firmer this time.

“Okay, fine. What about Michelle? She’s what forty? I was talking to her in the cobblers the other day, she’s definitely interested - mentioned something about making you a pie?”

“I’m good.” He grumbles looking down into his empty glass but quickly shifting his gaze to the bar, you’re leaning on your elbows, laughing heartily with a patron.

You look beautiful tonight - just like every other night. Your shoulders are sunkissed, your cheeks a little flushed and skin glowing from the summer humidity. He absorbs the way your hair tumbles down your shoulders and the way the thin straps of your tiered sundress slip down occasionally, only to be tugged back into place with dexterous fingers.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.” Tommy jibes, Joel looks over with a firm scowl.

“What?” He asks, Tommy shakes his head.

“You can dream, brother.” Joel rolls his eyes, trying to act nonchalant. “She’s got a boyfriend anyway.” Tommy adds, Joel eyes him with full attention.

“A boyfriend?” He asks, trying to be sure he heard right.

“Yeah, overheard her talking to one of the girls in the garden a few days ago. Didn’t mention no names but she definitely said she was seein’ someone.” Tommy shrugged, Joel hummed with interest. “Anyway, it don’t matter because she’s way out of your league.”

“Thanks.” Joel retorts, sneaking one last look before focusing on the door behind Tommy, the one Ellie had not long barrelled in and out of just moments ago.

He wonders about the kittens she mentioned and gulps as he imagines her taking to one with its big eyes and soft paws, his mind is pulled back to a time in April when he’d come downstairs one morning to a sink full of tad poles she’d ‘rescued’ from birds out of the neighbours pond.

Basically, his girl can’t resist animals she deems too vulnerable to leave.

“Scared Ellie’s gonna come home with one of them kittens?” Tommy wonders, reading Joel’s mind.

“Terrified.”

********************************************

The sun is setting in bursts of burnt orange and marigold by the time he leaves Tommy to his own devices at the bar, he hazards a look around as he makes his way in the complete opposite direction to his and Ellie’s house.

He slinks around the back of the school house, slithering through the gap and walking up the winding path that leads to the stables. He climbs the short fence and hops to the other side, his boots kick up the dust from the dirt path and the crickets chirp beneath the skyline.

With one more look around, he opens to rear door to the stables and slips inside, shutting it softly behind him.

Immediately he hears the horses further down huff and puff, he can make out the swish of their tails hitting the walls as they munch on hay, there’s a neigh that is absolutely Shimmer kicking up a fuss about something.

He slopes around the riding gear and sees you leaning against the wall, hands behing your back. You grin.

“Took your time, cowboy. Was beginning to think you couldn’t take the hint and stood me up.”

“Never, honey.” Joel prowls towards you, ready to grab you. “Missed you.”

“You just saw me.”

“Not the same.” He yanks you close like a man starved, you’d shared company less than 24 hours ago but you greet and leave each other like it’s the last time you’ll ever be together. It’s the apocalypse affect, you know that, he does too

This arrangement had been going on for almost two months now, all started by a late night patrol together where you’d shared more about yourselves in an eight hour shift than both of your time in Jackson combined. There was an instant attraction, it was so easy to talk to one another and that’s what you did every single time you were partnered together and it became the highlight of your day. It started innocently and friendship had bloomed, then before you knew it you were sharing a rum laced thermos of tea with him in the bed of a truck and kissing him with reddened cheeks shortly thereafter. You’d first slept together in the same truck, just as dawn began to break. It was clumsy and quick but you couldn’t get enough of one another. You hadn’t cum but Joel promised next time would be better which lead to the question of next time? You’d been seeing each other most nights since.

Any chance you got, you were together. Nobody knew about you both, hence why Tommy was incessantly trying to hook Joel up with other women around town and jealousy burned as you listened in on their one sided conversations in the bar whenever you were covering for Darius.

You’d left the bar shortly before Joel had, waving farewell to him and Tommy, coming straight up here to check on the mare just as you’d told Denton. This was a usual spot to meet Joel, it wasn’t your first rodeo in the stables with him. It was the one place you could be alone after a certain time.

“Were you hiding from me, honey? Hmm?” He growls playfully, pulling you to him even though you were barely a millimetre away in the first place. You hum in response, so utterly lost in him. You’re nuzzling his throat, fisting his shirt, desperate for his attention. “God, you look so good today.” He murmurs, mouth finding yours. You moan softly, standing on your tip toes and kissing him in a way that makes his lungs and loins burn alike. His grey tinged moustache prickles your upper lip beautifully, his beard feels familiar beneath your soft hands.

He’s crowding you and guiding you backwards, kissing you hotly in a sense that makes your cunt throb eagerly. You moan into his mouth when he nips your bottom lip, squeezing the left cheek of your ass.

You love when he’s like this - playful and easy. He feels lightyears younger around you, it’s like the heaviness dissipates the moment he’s in your company. He loses himself in the way you smell, the way your hair feels when his fingers are entwined between the sun kissed strands, the way in which your eyes sparkle with mischief.

It’s easy to pull him towards the back of the stable, where the bales of hay were stacked created a nice wall of privacy. You’d been in here a couple of times with him, having gone as far to stash a flannel blanket in one of the cupboards to lay down as to protect you both from the cold floor and the prickle of loose hay.

Once behind the hay and seated on a bale with you in his lap, strong hands are moving the thin straps of your sundress down your shoulders, you momentarily break away from his mouth to aid the removal of your dress to your waist where Joel roughly bunches it up so that your underwear is now on show and so are your tits.

His eyes light up at your bare chest, like he hasn’t seen your breasts countless times before. One thing among many that you first noticed was that Joel Miller is a tit man through and through. His rough and work toughened hands cup them both gently before his tongue swirls around your left nipple.

“Joel.” You murmur, arching into him, rolling your hips into his. He’s hard already, age not affecting him like that in the slightest. He’s a hot blooded male, every single inch a man and that warms you to your core. You grab his hand, bringing it to the top of your panties and he slides it in without hesitation.

“Christ.” He curses, exploring your lips with his fingertips, gliding through the dewy wetness gathered there and coming back up for a split second to drag it over your clit roughly. You whimper, bucking into his hand. “Mmm, babydoll.” Joel huffs against your cheek in a hot pant, repeating the action.

“Need you so badly, Joel. Almost got started without you.” You confess.

“Fuck. You can’t- don’t say shit like that, honey.” He growls lowly, unbelievably hard beneath you. His fingers explore again, you aid his explorations by canting your hips just so.

Joel is eager to get things moving, he’s hard and frustrated, he has a beautiful woman in his lap and the perfect setting. He pulls his hand from your underwear, looking down to see the shine of you on him. He loses his mind when you take his hand and lead it to your mouth, sucking the tips of his index and middle finger as he watches with eyes blown wide; they look black instead of the earthy brown that sometimes melts into caramel or runny honey.

The minute you hum like a content cat, he has you lifted off his lap and braced against him. You squeal at the sudden shift, the ceiling looking closer than the floor but then he gently lays you back on the blanket and settles between your legs.

“Hey, who was Tommy trying to set you up with?” You blurt, Joel pauses.

“Cath.”

“She’s gay.” You frown.

“Michelle too.” He adds before diving down into your chest, pressing your breasts together, mouthing at the swell.

“I’m not sure you’re Michelle’s type, she’s a cougar apparently.” You remark, Joel ignores you in favour of sucking your nipples until they feel raw. “Why Michelle? I don’t understand why Tommy thinks she’s a good match for you.” You don’t know why this is coming up now, your mouth seems to have a mind of its own, the jealousy settling like lead in your stomach.

“He said she wants to make me a pie.” Joel pipes up, the confession half muffled.

“What kind of pie?” You ask, pulling his face from your tits. Joel groans frustratedly, looking up at you with eyes dark and deadly.

“I don’t know. Why does that even matter?”

“A cream pie probably.” You snarl under your breath, the jealousy swirling in the pit of your stomach like a rattled viper.

Joel laughs, shaking his head and coaxing your mouth back to his. “Gross.” He murmurs, kissing you softly and squeezing your hips as if to guide you back. “You know I only like your cream pies.” He jokes, this time you break into a smile.

“Now whose gross?” You snort, tugging his plain grey undershirt over his head and to the side. You run your palms over his chest and down to his softer stomach, digging your nails in as they drag a long his skin. Goosebumps erupt all over him.

Joel is softer in his older age but strong too, years of walking different terrain, heavy lifting and fighting have made him lean also.

You hum contentedly, tracing over those familiar scars that have been made in the 20 years since the world imploded.

“He said you were out of my league.” Joel suddenly admits, resting his hands on your spread knees. You frown up at him. “Tommy said you were out of my league.”

“Tell Tommy he doesn’t know shit.” You retort with an eye roll, grabbing Joel by his belt and yanking him forward. “I like you, Joel. Fuck what anyone else thinks, it’s not anyone’s business who we choose to be with.” You say softly now, kissing your way up his chin to his lips. “I like you.” You affirm again, Joel kisses you tenderly, weaving his hand into your hair as you moan quietly.

“Well, I like you too.” He says, kissing you with so much passion yet so much tenderness all at the same time as you fumble to unbuckle his belt. You yank it apart, tugging open the button and prying the worn denim apart with the hiss of his zipper.

He barely lets you wrap a hand around him over his boxers before he has both your wrists pinned above your head, you make a sad whine but all disappointment quickly dissipates when he shuffles down the length of your torso and yanks your underwear down so fast you feel the material leave a friction burn. He grabs your thighs and then manoeuvres your legs by the backs of your knees, you like where this seems to be going.

Your spine curves against the hard floor when his mouth makes that first contact, he starts slow with a lick up the length of you, then he lightly suckles your lips and gently licks over the hood of your clitoris.

“Joel.” You murmur, twisting the blanket beneath your fingertips, scrunching it and bitting down on your lower lip as he continues his gentle assault on your clit, the rubber toes of your hi tops dig into his ribs almost painfully.

His thumb comes up to gently push the hood of your clit back, the sensation of his tongue directly stimulating the nerve causes you to gasp and wind one hand down into his hair, you tug and he groans against you.

You’re transported back to one of the first times you’d been intimate together after sleeping together in the truck.

For some reason, it had shocked you that Joel Miller ate pussy like a champ. The first time he’d gone down on you - behind the bar just after you’d blown him - you’d prepared yourself for dissatisfaction and disappointment, only it never came. Joel had licked into you with such ferocity and precision that you’d almost keened over.

He’d made you cum so quickly that you’d barely had time to process the first swipe of his tongue on your clitoris and the climax that followed minutes later.

He’d looked up at you, moustache and beard slick with his eyes wide; ‘I forgot how much I enjoyed doing that’ he’d panted while you squeaked back in shock.

Now, as you live in the moment, you feel that tingle of pleasure building but you don’t want to cum without him inside of you. As much as it pains you, you tug on his hair, urging him back up.

“Wanna cum with you.” You pant when he looks up with dazed brown eyes, frowning a little. He seems to accept that and sits up, shucking his jeans and boxers down over his ass with the help of your clumsy hands. “Lay back.” You demand, he does so and you move to take his place.

You throw your legs over his and settle above his lap, he’s got one arm behind his head and watches as you take him in your first and tease yourself with the flushed tip of him. He breathes in sharply through his nose as you do it again before notching him at the site of your heat, you steady yourself and begin to sink down.

“Fuck me.” Joel sighs, closing his eyes briefly because he’s so sure he’s in heaven. The sensation of your wet heat surrounding him never gets old, he’d forgotten how much he loved sex before meeting you.

“You’re so big, Joel.” You whimper, stroking his ego deliciously and he hates to be such a guy but the compliment goes straight to his dick.

“Fuck, honey. Take what you want, I’m yours - just fuck me.” He begs as you slowly begin to move, your nails scrape across his torso as you fall into an easy rhythm of rolling your hips into his. “You’re so fucking perfect, baby.” He babbles, looking up and admiring the curve of your back and the way your tits bounce as you ride him.

“Mmm.” You whine, picking up the pace and throwing your head back which exposes your jugular and Joel just wants to sink his teeth into you because you truly look good enough to eat.

“Come here, babydoll.” He urges, pulling you down so you’re chest to chest. Your peer at him with pretty doe eyes, your lashes flutter as they shut to kiss him deeply, your tongue swipes his and you taste the tang of yourself on him. You moan louder when he manages to plant his boots on the floor and thrust up into you roughly, tangling his hand in your hair to keep you pressed against him.

It’s so hot in the stables, you’re both sticky and warm. But with your pretty moans and keens filling the air, Joel manages to easily forget the irritation from the heat.

You push against his chest to sit up and Joel grabs your hips, guiding you easily and you feel yourself getting close but you can’t achieve orgasm through penetration alone.

You brace one hand on his thigh behind you, tipping your head back as the pleasure becomes almost too much to handle. Your hips roll in an easy rhythm, his cock head hitting your G spot perfectly and you whine when the hand on your left hip moves ever so slightly until Joel was able to thumb your clit. He knows you so well.

“Oh f - fuck. You feel so good, you’re so good - fuck.” You babble, your hips moving faster.

“Jesus christ.” Joel huffs, throwing his head back against the hard floor, biting his bottom lip hard to stave off his orgasm. You feel so good wrapped around him; wet and snug, like crushed velvet.

He knows he can’t stay like this, he’s too close to finishing and he can sense you’re not quite there yet despite being edged so he makes the conscious decision to hold you and flip you both over with a nimbleness he didn’t know he possessed in his older age.

You stutter out a choked moan, arching into his strong hands. You drag your nails down his toned back, leaving a little spatter of blood in the red tracks.

Joel hisses when your nails puncture the skin on the globes of his ass, somehow trying to pull him closer and push him away at the same time.

“Where?” He asks, nodding downwards as he fights off his climax.

“Inside.” You reply without hesitation. You’d counted your cycle days, marking in a blank notebook the day number and your symptoms, pretty accurately guessing your fertile window and probable ovulation day by cervical mucus alone. You were four days from your period being due, it was safe.

“You sure?” He hesitates, brow furrowed hard with concentration, he’s a stroke away from finishing. He knows better than most people to not trust the pull out method and he knows the importance of contraception but he still ended up a Dad before he hit his mid twenties. Pushing sixty he’s still playing a dangerous game but so far, neither of you had gotten burnt.

“Yeah.” You gasp, fingers on your clit rubbing faster. You groan suddenly and twist into him, making pretty little whimpers and purring. He groans too, thrusting in hard once, twice and then three times. You feel his cock stiffen and twitch, then the pulse of subtle warmth of his cum spreading inside and aiming for your cervix. He works himself through it, you push in return as the aftershocks slow to a flat line.

Joel heaves a breath, resting on his forearms as you lazily kiss his neck in satisfaction and rapture. You sit there for a minute, basking in the afterglow until Joel grows too stiff and has to withdraw from you slowly, kneeling up between your legs to pull his boxers and jeans back up but he leaves them unbuttoned and his belt loose.

You don’t miss the primal look in his eyes when they drift to between your legs, he can see his cum leaking and the pearlescent finish it leaves on your lips. His cock twitches, perhaps if he was younger he could go for another round but alas, he settles next to you on the blanket, pulling you to his chest and cushioning your head with a strong bicep.

“I think that might have been the best time yet.” You pant breathlessly, looking up at the ceiling and seeing the evening sky through the cracks of wood.

“Maybe one day we can do it in an actual bed, I’m not sure how much more of these places my back can take.” Joel jokes, you giggle and turn into him, listening to the rapid pace of his heartbeat as it settles, a perfect mirror of your own.

“Not bad for an old timer.” You tease, giggling when he growls and squeezes your hip.

“Was patrol okay today?” Joel questions you, you nod lazily against him. “You come across anything?” Now you speak, leaning up to peer down at him.

“A couple of runners. We shot them in that abandoned gas station near the entrance to the offices off the trail. I think they were probably people passing through, one was infected on the journey and turned, then bit the other.” Joel hums, rubbing your lower back and hip. “I have some things for Ellie I found, by the way. I’ll drop them over tomorrow. Nothing crazy, just some things I thought she needed.” You say between kisses down Joel’s chest and sternum, your delicate fingers tracing out old battle scars.

“What like?” He asks, catching your hand as it reaches his happy trail, bringing it to his lips instead where he presses tender kisses to your fingertips.

“Pyjamas, underwear and some toiletries. Oh! And get this, a new casette tape for her walkman.”

“What tape?”

“Teardrops.” You grin.

“Womack and Womack? She’s gonna love that.” Joel says, laying back and smiling at the ceiling of the stables, humming the song in his head. “Fuck, I haven’t heard that song in - jesus - years.” He’s frowning, contemplating lost time, the whole concept of time evades him, it never used to at the start but now? It’s one big jumble, his time is defined by events and not a calendar.

“She still playing that one you got her on repeat?” You wonder.

“Yeah.”

“What was it again?”

“Bowie. Heroes.” Joel replies.

“Nice.” You nod.

As you lie there together in an easy silence, content to be together in the quiet solace of the stables, Joel’s mind wanders back to his earlier conversation with his younger brother:

“Hey, er - Tommy actually said something else earlier.” Joel winces at how awkward he sounds and you huff loudly, ready to hear what other dumbass thing he’s said. “He said he heard you say you have a boyfriend or that you were seein’ someone.”

You sit up, frowning down at Joel.

“Okay…” You reply hesitantly, uneasy now. “Am I not seeing you?” You frown.

“No - no! It’s… that came out wrong. I just meant - “ Joel grumbles, covering his face momentarily while you try to will your stomach from not sinking. “I don’t know, I just wanted to know if you meant me.”

“Seriously, Joel? This conversation is going so well.” You say dryly, utterly unimpressed.

“No! Oh my god! I can’t do this.” He groans, realising his mistake. “I’m sorry, that came out so wrong.” Joel apologises, you snort.

“Look Joel, I was talking to Mrs Patterson in the garden and she was telling me about her late husband, saying how lovely he was and how men just aren’t like that anymore. She asked if I’d found anyone and I let it slip that I was seeing someone, I didn’t mention any names and I can totally understand why you’re freaked when we haven’t even had that conversation ourselves. I shouldn’t have assumed this was anything more than sex, I’m sorry.” You annunciate, warm in the cheeks.

“You want to just have sex?” Joel is sat up now, matching your frazzled expression.

“If that’s what you want.” You shrug, taking an interest in your cuticles. A large hand lays over yours, squeezing. You shift your focus to his knuckles instead, tracing out the scars.

“Honey, look at me.” He urges softly, you hesitantly meet his eyes. “I think somewhere we’ve miscommunicated.”

“How so?” You press.

“Look… it’s been a long time since I’ve done this, I’m a little rusty. I’m sorry if I haven’t been clear about what we are or what I want us to be, I kinda just assumed you knew and yeah, that’s real shitty of me.” He says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I wanna be exclusive with you, honey. I mean, I have Ellie to think about so we’ll need to go slow just so I can ease her into the change. Is that okay?” He whispers, pressing his forehead to yours.

“That’s more than okay, Joel. I completely understand, I don’t want to spook Ellie either.” You confirm, Joel let’s out a relieved sigh.

“Good - good, okay. We’ll figure it out, baby.” He assures you, nuzzling his nose against yours and kissing you softly.

It’s easy to lose yourself in Joel Miller, you’re swept up in the gruff voice and strong arms, the softness beneath his outer shell reserved for those closest to him.

You’re kissing him back in earnest, he’s reclining to lay back down with you on top of him and you’re sure this could lead to round two or at least head from either one of you, maybe even both.

However, the moment is spoiled when you hear voices creeping closer to the stables. You both stiffen and wait, looking at each other with eyes opened wide.

The voices are getting closer and you decipher it’s two sets, it’s not made clear who it is until they’re walking behind the stables and you can see their shadows slink between the thin gaps in the planks.

It’s Ellie and Tommy.

You and Joel scramble, you yank your dress back over your breasts and pull the hem of it over your ass. Your panties are on the floor and you narrowly dodge Joel’s elbow as he hastily buckles his jeans back up just in time for the door around the corner to open with a shriek of the hinges.

“What if he’s gone out on patrol without telling me? Or maybe he’s swapped with someone and gone hunting? I know I’m back way earlier than he said but he said he’d be home! Do you think he’s left the gate? What if he’s hurt? What if - “ Ellie begins to ramble and Tommy sighs.

“Kiddo, stop worrying. I’m sure he’s around here somewhere, let’s look at the whiteboard and see if his name’s on there. I highly doubt he’s swapped shifts and he wouldn’t leave without telling you, he’s gotta be around here some…” Tommy’s reassurance comes to a stop when he round the corner of the hay bale wall and abruptly stops, staring at you and Joel with as much shock as you return.

Ellie slams into his back and he wobbles but his gaze never falters.

“What the fuck, man!” Ellie exclaims, shoving Tommy and stepping around his statue like form but also freezing too.

You look between them both, trying to formulate an excuse but Joel shoving his t-shirt on, the fact your clothes are crumpled and there’s absolutely hay in your tousled hair says it all.

Your panties are shoved behind your back out of view.

“Well I’ll be damned, you’re the guy she’s seein’!.” Tommy snorts, looking between you both. Joel growls, yanking on his flannel while Ellie manually retrieves her jaw from the floor.

“What the fuck is this?” She asks, looking between you and Joel. “You have a girlfriend? What the fuck, dude? You didn’t say anything!” She fumes, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Look, it’s complicated and new.” He says, which placates her slightly. She stares at you again and you see the betrayal hidden behind a scowl, she looks at Joel again.

“Fine. I guess this isn’t that bad, it could be worse - we could of caught you with Esther.”

“That’s true.” Tommy nods, pointing at Ellie, she nods back.

“Esther?” You question, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, Tommy’s neighbour, she totally fancies Joel.” Ellie tells you. “You should fight her.”

“No, she doesn’t and stop shit stirring.” Joel warns Ellie, she hides a smirk which tells you she’s winding Joel up.

“I could take Esther.” You say, playing along, Ellie’s eyes brighten with mischief.

“Nobody’s fighting no one.” Joel settles, you’re all silent for a millisecond and then Tommy throws in his two cence.

“You could take Esther.” He agrees.

“Enough about Esther, please!” Joel begs, beside himself.

“This is fucking embarrassing, Joel. What the fuck do you expect us to do? It’s awkward!” Ellie complains, Tommy nods in agreement, you do too.

“Yeah? Try being where we’re stood, kid.” He retorts.

Ellie kinda has to resist the urge to throw up in her mouth because Joel has sex which is so horrifying that she almost can’t bare to look at him but she’s equally happy for him and utterly disgusted, she swallows back a retch.

“Fine, whatever. I’m very happy for you and my da - Joel.” Ellie bursts and corrects herself at the last minute, you don’t miss the hitch in Joel’s breathing but this is not the time for that discussion. “I’m willing to negotiate a price for the emotional damage you’ve both caused me by lying to me, sneaking around and also having sex in front of my horse.” She lists.

“My horse too!” Tommy adds.

“And Tommy’s horse too, Crash and Shimmer didn’t want to see your bare ass.” Ellie continues and for some reason Joel knows exactly where this is going, so he braces himself.

“Name your price.” He bites, Ellie looks at him with a levelling glare, it’s getting hard not to laugh when you see Tommy observing like he’s watching a mafia deal go down.

“A kitten.” Ellie reveals.

He fucking knew it.

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller #the last of us fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal fanfiction

[bo0tleg]

One thing I like about Top Gun (1986) is how believable the development with Ice and Mav's dynamic is.

I've seen a lot of the "Rivals suddenly become buddies after traumatic event together" in media, but I don't think I've seen it done better than in Top Gun. Mostly, I attribute it to how much build up it has.

Most of the time, the 'Rivals' hate each others guts throughout the entire movie/series and then they go through an extremely traumatic event that binds them for life and shifts their entire concept of each other. Ice and Mav never once changed how they saw each other, it just changed their understanding of it.

Ice saw Maverick as dangerous and Mav saw Iceman as stuck-up and commanding. And they weren't wrong, by any means.

From the beginning, they have tension between them because of how different they are. And it ends up in the audience seeing Ice as the 'Antagonist' because that's how Mav sees it, and we're seeing it from his perspective as the protagonist. But Ice was never inherently wrong, in fact he was right.

Other than his first scene, Iceman always has a point in what he's saying. He's criticizing Mav, not insulting him. Sure, he does it in a brash way because masculinity, but he's not trying to insult him, he's trying to knock him down a peg and wake him up to reality. All Ice wants is that he starts to act as a team player, start caring about everybody's safety AND his own, rather than being reckless for the sake of being reckless. But Mav sees it as an insult because he can't process criticism in a healthy way (due to how he grew up). The same thing happened with Charlie, for the record.

And so the strife between the two begins. What I like about it is how it bleeds out of them over time, becoming more settled as the movie goes on. In the locker room "You're dangerous" scene, the tension is palpable. It's obvious they're agitated by each other, and feel the need to prove they're the correct one.

If you pay attention, this whole... demand for superiority goes away as time progresses. They're fine with each other's presence, it's not like they're constantly at each others throat all the time. In the shower scene, Ice dropped all of the aggression and competitiveness from his tone and is instead just laying out what he thinks. He's not undermining Maverick, he's not lecturing him like a child. Iceman is just telling Maverick exactly how he sees the situation in hopes that it would make him realize what the fuck he's doing, but with little hope that it'll actually work.

That doesn't mean Ice is always correct either, he doesn't understand why Mav acts the way he does, thus fails to take into consideration the emotional trauma behind it. Which only causes even more strife.

The entire time, Iceman isn't being a dick for the sake of it, he just wants Mav to stop being stupid (by his standards). And Maverick doesn't understand it because all he gets from what Ice says is insults.

Maverick isn't good at understanding what people mean to say if it's implied, you need to say it to his face. This is the reason he stayed quiet in the shower scene, because Ice finally laid everything out in simple words that he can understand without making it sound like a dick-measuring contest.

Thing is, the tension mellows out. At the beginning, you could see the tension and cut it with a knife. By the middle you can see them getting used to each other without jumping to constantly trade jabs (namely: the volleyball scene, it's just a bunch of guys being dudes, and the scene where Charlie says that Mav flew recklessly in front of the whole class, Ice doesn't comment on it in any way). Over time, they've settled down into their tension without needing to address it all the time.

Then Goose dies.

And the tension between them is still there.

Just because Goose isn't there anymore, doesn't mean their whole dynamic vanishes all of a sudden. You can see their hesitation towards each other (especially Ice), and that's great! It demonstrates that Goose dying doesn't magically resolve their problems with each other in solidarity.

Ice tried to give his consolations to Mav, and is awfully awkward about it. You can see on his face that he wants to say more, but doesn't because he knows it's not his place given their history. And not much is said, but a lot it communicated. (Val Kilmer is a killer actor for this, OH MY FUCKING GOD BLESS THAT MAN)

Even in the graduation scene you can see how out of their depts they really are with each other. A stilted congratulations, that was it. But they're trying, and that's what matters.

A scene I think gets overlooked a lot is the scene right before the Layton, where Ice expressed his worries about Mav to Stinger, and Mav heard him. Because I feel like that was a shift that was more drastic than the Layton itself for them.

What Ice was doing in that scene wasn't doubting Maverick's flying abilities, it was his mental health. Sure, he passed the psych eval, but that means next to jack shit when in a real combat situation so close after his backseater dying. And Ice might be worried that he's gonna be left hanging, but with the way he was speaking I'm more inclined to believe he was more worried about Maverick's wellbeing than himself. Ice almost looked resigned. He knew it was gonna get dismissed because that's the military for you, but he still wanted to try to vouch for Mav to stay groundside, if only to keep his mind at bay.

But Maverick heard him, and as usual, he read it as an insult. He wasn't wrong to assume Ice didn't believe him capable of flying the mission, which wouldn't be a lie, but failed to realize that he had more than one reason to want Maverick on the ground rather than in the air. And for the first time, Maverick believes him.

Up until this point, Mav dismissed all of Ice's so called 'insults' because he was certain in and of himself. But now he isn't anymore.

And it affects his performance in the air. I'm not saying he was as shitty as he was at the start of that combat because of what he overheard, but I am saying that it certainly didn't help matters in the slightest.

So their weird 'stepping-on-eggshells' situation is all over the place by that point. Because they started to care about each other despite not being what one would call proper friends yet. It's establishing a potential friendship by implying that 1. Ice cares about Mav's wellbeing and 2. Mav cares about what Ice thinks.

On the ground, they have the wingman exchange, and their suddenly buddy buddy. Thing is, it wasn't sudden at all.

They've been setting this up the entire fucking movie.

Going back to what I said at the beginning: Ice thinks Mav is dangerous and Mav thinks Ice is stuck-up and controlling. After the Layton, they still think those things because they weren't wrong to begin with. What changed was that instead of seeing it as something that pitted them against each other, it was seen as something that simply was about the other, and that there was no changing it. It could be good.

Mav being dangerous could be good and Ice being stuck-up and controlling could be good, because those were just traits of who they were. By the end of the movie they didn't change how they saw each other, just how they interpreted each other.

And it was built up during the entire fucking movie.

There was a reason to why they acted the way they did with each other because of the stilted interpretation they had of each other. From rivalry to friendship (and perhaps more later down the line), it's glaringly obvious throughout that it wasn't a sudden shift, it was exponential.

That's why I think it was so well developed, because you could see it coming.

#I implied that Mav is autistic here and there because yes #i just love them your honor #this is what I call good writing folks #take notes #top gun #tg86 #icemav #iceman x maverick #top gun iceman #tom iceman kazansky #iceman kazansky #pete maverick mitchell #pete mitchell #top gun 1986

[lovifie]

Lift Me Off My Feet

Chapter 12: Finale

Masterlist

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

“You are not listening!” You shout, frustrated with the man.

In the couple of weeks that you have known and lived with them, you never expected that you would end up arguing with them. Even less with Price.

“No, Birdie. You are the one that needs to listen!” The man argued back.

“You got me fired, John! What else do you want me to hear?” You ask, running your hands through your hair. 

It finally set in, the reality that the idyllic life of living with the four of them without a worry was just an illusion. You were here because you were hiding, and they were here because they were hiding you. 

“I didn't get you fired, Birdie. Your boss did.” Price says, crossing his arms.

“Don't get sassy with me! He told you that they needed to know if I could get back to work any soon or they would be forced to fire me and you told them to do so!” You shout again, feeling like Price is lying to your face. “Why would you do that?!”

“Because you hate that job!” He shouts back. “And you don't need to work!”

“Yes, I do, Price! Yes, I do!” You say, a dry laugh leaving your throat. “Like everyone! I can't just live sponging off of you guys!”

“That's not what's happening and you know it, birdie!” He exclaims. “Don't manipulate the situation into making it look like a bloody transaction!”

“I'm manipulating the situation?!” You ask, pointing to yourself. 

“Yes! You are making it look like we are paying you to stay with us, birdie!” He explains, moving his hands to his hips.

“Oh, for god's sake, Price!” You exclaim, rubbing your face. “Why don't you exaggerate it a bit more?! I don't even know why I'm arguing with you about my job!”

“Neither do I?! Because I think it is pretty much settled!” He says, walking away towards the kitchen. 

“IT IS NOT SETTLE!” You scream, shocked by his response. “The reason why I don't know why we are arguing is because I don't know who gave you the right to choose over me!”

That makes him turn around, looking at you like you grow a second head. “Well, excuse me. For believing I have a say in your life, I just assumed I could since we bloody love each other and all that!”

“Don't pull that shit on me, Price! This has nothing to do with love!” You say, crossing your arms. “I don't have a say on your work! So why should you have it on me!”

“It's not the bloody same!” He says, rubbing his face.

“It's not for you because it doesn't benefit you!” You scream, looking back when you hear the door open as Gaz, Soap and Ghost enter the house. The three of them having left the house not too long ago to buy breakfast. 

“What's going on? We could hear the shouts from outside.” Gaz asks, entering first and looking between Price and you, seeing the wide cliff between the two of you.

“Nothing!” Price barks, crossing his arms again. 

You ignore the looks on everyone's face, instead walking to the door. 

“Where are you going now?!” Price asks, moving to be able to see you.

“Out! So I can fucking breathe without feeling I'm choking!” You say, opening the door after the boys closed it. 

“Don't go far!” Price says, still caring under all his bad mood 

“I KNOW I CAN'T GO FAR!” You say, slamming the door on your way out.

You hate screaming, hate shouting, hate raising your voice and even more if it is at Price or any of the men inside. It's not their fault and screaming at each other is not the way to fix it. But you can't help it, tired of being pushed around at everyone's mercy without asking what's your choice. 

Sitting down on the step right outside the house, not wanting or needing to go any further, you hide your face behind your hands, letting your palms get wet with your tears. 

“Hey, you alright?” A man's voice says, making you look up, to come face to face with an unfamiliar face. 

You don't have time to answer, because something hits the back of your head and everything blends to black.

Price updates the boys once you are out, he tells them your ex-boss called, told him you needed to get back to work the next day or he would fire you, he tells them how he told him to go ahead since you couldn't go back to work jet, he tells them about how he wasn't able to tell you about the empty position at base that you could filled to work with them because you started screaming, he tells them about how he lost his cool and just screamed back instead of explaining.

He tells them everything, feeling like the worst person in the world for making you leave the house with tears on your face. It's Gaz the first one to stand up. “I'll check on her.” He mumbles, as he walks outside to an empty staircase. He walks down, checking both sides of the street only to find it just as empty. 

An anxious feeling starts to brew on his stomach, entering back to the house with a worried expression on his face. “She's gone.” He says almost casually, as if not voicing one of the biggest fears the men around him have had for the last month.

“What do you mean she's gone?” Soap asks. “She must be around the block, she'll be back in a bit, mate.”

No one believes him, not even himself. You wouldn't have walked out of his sight like that, not without dragging them with you, not without a phone, not without telling them. 

There is a beat of silence, each debating whether it is plausible that you simply left, all of them feeling that the most possible chance is that something happened to you. 

“I'll check the car camera, it is parked right in front of the door.” Ghost says, taking his phone out to check it. 

They all check the screen, seeing the door open and close. They see you sit down, body shaking as you cry, Price feeling his heart shrunk at the sight knowing it was his doing. 

They then see the two men walking in front of you, how one of them takes advantage that you have your face covered to stand behind you, how the other calls your attention to look at your face, and how once he knows it's you he nods to the other man, who knocks you out hitting you with a bat at the back of your head.

The wave of all the different emotions hitting them at once keeps them in place for a second, paralyzed on their chair. Soap jumps first, talking about checking the cameras on the street, checking the cars, their licence place, anything. 

But it doesn't reach Price's ears, the only thing he can hear is the voices in his head telling him that he has failed twice now. The first one he wasn't able to keep you close enough when you left in the middle of the night, and now he was the one that pushed you away. 

You were just on the other side of the door a moment ago and now… now he didn't know where you were. All because he didn't explain himself and let his emotions take control of him.

“Price!” It's Ghost's voice that wakes him up, standing beside the sergeants. “Move.”

That's all he says, and that's all Price needs. 

They'll get you back, whatever it takes. 

Two weeks.

That is what it takes them to finally find a trail.

That is what it takes Price to breathe again.

That's what it takes Simon to let be seen outside the office.

That's what it takes Soap to let himself be embraced by any of the others.

That's what it takes Gaz to stop baring his teeth to everyone. 

They have a trail. 

And god knows that's all they need. 

What you need, is a doctor. A shower. A glass of water. A nap. Anything that is not forced or thrown at you. 

Two weeks of torture. 

Two weeks of just getting hurt, insulted, humiliated, all of it just for the purpose of causing you pain. 

The henchmen of the man you used to say good morning to were the ones that have stolen you away. 

The ones that have thrown you into an empty dark room.

The ones that have “interrogated” you about who you worked for. 

The ones that have “interrogated” you about how much they paid you. 

You didn't say a word, which usually resulted in a punch to the face or a kick to the ribs. 

You want to believe that they will find you. 

That they will take you back home.

That Price will forgive you for shouting at him.

Hell, if you die and the last thing you did was shout at him.

You'll live.

They'll find you.

Two weeks.

Of fighting with yourself.

The side that says you'll live.

And the side that tells you to give up already.

The second one usually wins.

Like today, when the man that enters the room every day walks up to you, limping and with a knife in his hand. 

He yanks your hair, pulling you up on your feet and pressing the knife on your throat. “Make a sound and it'll be the last thing you do.”

He moves you into a chokehold, pushing you in front of him as he walks down the hall. There is shouting and the sound of guns inside the building. 

The moment he sees the car where they push you in, the one they saw on the cameras; Price almost needs to pull Simon back from running inside the building.

This is it.

This is the headquarters they couldn't find for so long. 

The headquarters where all the important information and the guns they have looked for so long are at.

The headquarters where everything that matters is.

The headquarters where they kept you at. 

Price sends Ghost to the building on the other side of the road, not trusting the man in face to face with what they can find inside. 

And he obliges, hating the rank differences.

They move in, clearing room after room.

No sign of you.

The move to the second floor.

You are not there.

More and more people that hit the ground when they found them.

You are still missing. 

Until you see it. 

The unmistakable blue cap on Gaz's head.

And you shout.

You shout louder than you shout at Price.

You shout louder than when Soap scared you hiding behind the door. 

You shout louder than when you called for Ghost when you thought he fell on the shower but it was just the shampoo bottle.

You have never shouted at Gaz.

Until now.

And the moment you do you feel the blade dig into your skin, moving your hand between the knife and your neck.

The three of them turn to you, immediately updating Ghost and telling him to move. 

The window behind you is almost like a target for a perfect shot. 

But Ghost can't shoot.

Not when he can see your head.

Not when there is a possibility that he may hit you. 

But he can when you move.

When you grab the blade, breaking the skin of your fingers, and you pull back just enough to squish yourself down. 

You are still against his chest, the man still holding you. But Ghost can now see your head, lower than before. And the arms around you quickly go limp, falling forward taking you with him. 

A ringing in your ear keeps you from Price's voice calling your name. Everything is dizzy for a moment, there is a warm sensation on your elbow and when you look back a red pool of blood is bleeding onto your clothes.

You liked that t-shirt. 

You'll need to try with peroxide, see if you can take the stain out. 

Your brain ignores the corpse lying next to you, but for some reason you can't stop looking at the blood on your elbow.

It isn't until Price cups your face, your grimey, bloody and sunken face. And you look up to him, his blue eyes. 

And you let yourself cry.

After two weeks.

You cry.

So hard you can't see nor hear anything. 

You cling onto Price, hiding your face on his neck, digging your nails on his back needing to feel him under your skin. 

Apologies fly from one to the other.

For shouting, for pushing away, for failing to protect, for not shouting, for being taken away.

You feel two more pairs of arms around you, feeling the fourth person only when you start to leave the building. 

Not much longer an ambulance arrives, finally taking you to safety.

The four men in the car right behind. 

Recovery is just as slow.

No permanent physical damage.

But not all the wounds are on the skin.

Those heal quite fast. 

And soon you are back on your feet. 

On your scared, wobbly feet.

The boys are back around, always one of them close.

“I'm never leaving you out of my sight again.” Price says, cupping your face as he kisses your forehead. “I don't care if I sound like a madman.”

They make it easy to get back.

Price finally tells you about the job at base, which you gladly apply for.

Surprisingly you got it, and started working soon.

It was easy.

You got a better flat, easy to pay when four more people chime in for the bills. 

You got a better job, with better pay and a better boss.

You got, not only one, but four lovers. 

And you have all the time of your life to heal everything that's left. 

You still wonder how you managed to get into your garage that night. 

But now you're glad you did.

And with this, ladies and gentlemen.

Lift Me Off My Feet comes to an end ❤️.

Thanks for joining along, for all the support that you have given me the last couple of months, for the patience between chapters, special thanks to @darkangel4121 for listening to me complain so much and to everyone who has joined and will join the blog.

I love you, my lovelies 💗

TagList: @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @kayden666 @dumb12bvtch1212 @thatonepupkai @darkangel4121 @cassiecasluciluce @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @tired-writer04 @evolutionarry @prettykinkysoul @pagesfalling @skyler-loves-rick-grimes @readerofallthingss @onewattson6529 @mynameismothra   @renabear88 @lolliepopsicle @reap3erslov3 @tooloudarts @sodavrr @anirok2 @lilliumrorum @ladyxtiger @multy-fandom-lover @thriving-n-jiving @lotionlamp @spicyspicyliving @xxeiraxx @vampirekilmerfic @keiraslayz @risingofjupiter @witchthewriter @soupinasock @phantomly27 @arbesa-mind   @multifandomheathenannie  @spadekip @cmbghost @herefor-tojis-tits @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk @reap3erslov3 @mothsdrabbles @ghosts-hoe

#call of duty #ghost #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod x reader #cod #john soap mactavish #ghost cod #simon riley #john price x reader #task force 141 #call of duty x reader #cod modern warfare #soap x reader #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #captain price #call of duty modern warfare #captain price x reader #gaz x reader #soap #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick #kyle gaz x reader #john mactavish #john mactavish x reader #poly 141 x reader

[sugrhigh]

HOTBOX 2 - ( m.s )

REQUESTED**

part one

summary- matt smoked with his best friends for the first time, and after you guys get home his dirty thoughts about you finally come to life

warnings- SMUT !! so don’t read if ur uncomfy, swearing, unprotected sex, slightly subby!matt

bff!matt x fem!reader

a/n: HEHE i had fun writing this so i hope you guys truly enjoy. i will be working on boy next door and a beautiful fall req i just received, but until those are posted my inbox is open for any comments, reqs, or sweet nothings xoxo

dedicated to the lovely @awsturn thank you for requesting!!!

@fawnchives @mattswrld @l1ttlefreakk @teapartyprincess4two @l9vesick

“oh wow, matt.” nick can’t stifle his laughter as his brother walks through the front door with the rest of you.

he’s got his arm around your shoulder, leaning some of his weight on you as you move in unison. he promised he could walk fine on his own, but you insisted on being there just in case.

not that he minds the physical contact.

“what?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as his eyes finally focus.

“nothing you just look…very faded.”

“that’s because he is.” you reply for him.

“hey, so are you guys!” matt argues, and you nod your head absentmindedly as the two of you head past nick to the living room.

“yes, we are. do you want to sit?”

“are you going to?”

you laugh and untangle yourself from his arms once you’re beside the couch. “you don’t have to do everything i do, you know.”

his legs are far less shaky than they were before, but he plops down on the plush cushions regardless. the rest of the group is still chattering in the foyer, and he appreciates the few seconds of alone time he gets with you.

“just wanted to make sure you weren’t leaving.” matt shrugs lazily in response.

“i’m literally spending the night dork.” you remind him, turning to head into the kitchen.

you’re unknowingly giving him the perfect view of your ass as you walk, covered only by those thin little yoga pants, hips swaying back and forth like you’re taunting him on purpose.

he has to force himself to look away, to try and put an end to all of the filthy thoughts churning in his mind. he shouldn’t be thinking them, especially not about one of his best friends.

but matt is too fried to pretend he doesn’t have feelings for you. he always has. it’s just harder to hide how much he wants you when he can barely remember how to breathe.

it’s pretty late, so chris and nathan announce that they’re going to his room to play video games. the pair are already bounding down the hall as you return to the living room, equipped with a bottle of water in one hand.

“where the hell are they off to?” you ask with a grin, passing him the drink.

“going to play fortnite or something.” matt replies, taking the water into his own trembling hands.

he tries to ignore the way his fingers pass over yours, tries not to wonder if you feel the same spark that he does just from a simple touch. luckily, nick enters seconds later which relieves some of the tension.

he watches his brother wrap you in a quick hug. “i have to finish editing, but i’ll see you in the morning.”

“you better be up in time for mcdonald’s breakfast.” you point an accusatory finger at him as he heads to his room laughing.

“yeah, yeah, wake me whenever. goodnight matt, drink that water.”

he hears the door click closed a second later, his eyes trained on you as you move to sit down beside him. your thigh is inches from his, but you’re still too far away for his liking.

“are you sleepy?” you ask him as you settle down against the cushions, finally meeting his gaze once you’re comfortable.

“not really.” he finds himself smiling at you, for no real reason besides the fact that he loves you.

you tilt your head to the side, studying him with a look in your eyes that indicates you’re amused. “okay, how are you then? enjoying it?”

his eyes are low and red, watching your lips as they move. he can’t stop thinking about your fingers gently gripping his thigh earlier, the confident tone in which you speak to him, how you handle yourself.

all of that mixed with the weed is making him incredibly turned on. he shifts a little, dropping the water bottle on the couch so he can use his hands to cover his lap.

“yeah, i’m enjoying it.” matt says quietly, unable to look anywhere besides you.

you furrow your brows a little bit, but your grin doesn’t fade, which makes him feel better.

“alright, what’s going on? i know you’re high and everything, but you’re acting a little too weird.” you accuse him, though your demeanor is light-hearted as you nudge your shoulder against his.

he shakes his head just slightly as if he has no idea what you’re talking about. “what do you mean? i’m totally normal.”

matt finds that his voice is just a little too squeaky and quick to be convincing, and he knows he’s not a very good liar, especially when it comes to you.

“come on, i know that’s not true. you can tell me anything.” you push, moving a little bit so that you can properly face him.

the light coming from the kitchen silhouettes your features beautifully, and he can feel the words crawling up his throat. it’s involuntary, but the truth is coming out either way.

“i already told you earlier.”

“what?”

“i just…want you.” he finally admits breathlessly.

this catches you completely off guard, considering you had pushed your previous conversation in the car to the back of your mind. you figured he was just tripping, only saying flirty things because he was so out of it.

your lips part like you’re going to speak, but nothing happens. matt studies your face for any kind of emotion other than shock, but he can’t read you, which makes him anxious.

“i’m sorry, fuck, i don’t know why i’m saying this shit right now, of all times, but you look so pretty and i just…i needed you to know because—” he stumbles over his words, which morph together in the wrong places.

“matt, matt, it’s okay.”

you put a hand on his thigh again, trying to let him know that everything is fine, and he literally twitches from the pressure of your palm being so close to where he needs you.

“don’t do that.” he hisses, unable to control the way he slightly bucks against your fingers.

but you don’t move, because you feel yourself throb at the sight of him growing hard in his sweatpants. all because you touched him.

“matt…” you tilt your head, trying to get him to look at you.

he exhales a long breath before he finally does, his faded eyes wider now, cheeks flushed and brown hair messy from the wind of the car ride home. he looks beautiful, your beautiful best friend.

but matt is way more. you need him to be more.

“are you sure you want this?” you say faintly, leaning in just enough for him to notice.

“do you want this?”

you nod your head slowly, staring at his pink lips, unable to stop wondering if they’re as soft as they look. so you meet him the rest of the way, your mouth meshing against his gently.

matt almost melts at the feeling, and butterflies erupt through his chest. he can’t believe this is happening. part of him wonders if he fell asleep, and is dreaming it all up.

it’s thrilling, how desperate you both are for more, how his tongue slips against yours so nicely, and he has to contain himself when you bite down on his bottom lip every so often.

you pull away and swing your leg over his lap so you can straddle him. he groans quietly underneath you, because your hips feel so nice on his that he already wants to combust on the spot.

and then you lean down to his ear, moving slowly against his hard dick, so close he can feel your breath tickle his skin.

“i’m gonna take care of that, baby,” you whisper, “but you have to be quiet. can you do that?”

matt nods eagerly and you kiss his neck in response, tugging at the skin lightly. his hands travel to your ass, gripping it tightly to force some more friction.

he feels you grin against his throat, and he has to hold back a moan from the combined sensation of your tongue and hips going to work.

you move up to his jaw, across his cheek, back to his mouth, and this time he smiles against your lips. kissing you is just so sweet, even when it’s sinful, and he’s so high and happy it's impossible not to.

you pepper him with a few more quick pecks before crawling off of his lap, crouching down between his knees. he’s already needy, missing having you on top of him even though you look gorgeous at his feet.

matt reaches out to smooth your hair, holding your head in his hand as his thumb brushes your cheek.

“are you real?” it leaves his mouth before he can think.

you let out a breathy laugh, turning your head to kiss the heel of his palm softly. “i’m real, i promise.”

the intimacy of the moment, just that small gesture, is making his heart slam against his ribcage.

you reach up to hook your fingers underneath the waist of his sweats, tugging them down to indicate he should lift himself. matt does just that, pressing his back against the couch so you can slide the soft material down to his ankles.

your run your hands up his thighs before you go to the band of his boxers, pulling so that his dick springs free. he’s already wet and straining, precum soaking his tip, and he’s a little embarrassed by the way you’re looking at it.

but you’re only staring because it’s bigger than you expected, possibly the biggest you’ve seen in person. you’re entranced as your fingers glide over his tip, spreading his wetness across the rest of the base.

“shit…” matt mutters under his breath, throwing his head back against the couch as he fucks himself into your hand slightly.

you love hearing him all breathless, watching his muscles clench in pleasure as you stroke him. but you can tell he’s already worked up enough, so you start to slow your movements to a stop before pushing yourself to stand.

his head snaps back up, surprised by the switch in pace, and then his eyes get wider. you slip your leggings off, reaching for the hem of your shirt after so you can tug it over your head and discard it with your pants.

he loves seeing you exposed like this, every curve, every gorgeous little detail that makes your body your body.

“my pretty girl.” he praises, completely pussy whipped already, and it makes you a little bit shy as you stand before him.

you just like matt so much, and hearing him compliment you in such a personal setting only confirms how much you need him.

“want you inside me.” you murmur, straddling his waist again, sliding your wet panties against his shaft lightly as you get situated.

“please, oh my god—” he’s choking on his own words as you push your panties to the side, lining him up with your entrance.

you sink down on him without warning, feeling that delicious and familiar pressure in your stomach as he fills you up. matt’s hands find their way to your ass again, in a state of complete euphoria from having you wrapped around him.

you both groan, and you lean in so you can attach your mouth to his, swallowing the sounds of your shared pleasure. he helps guide you up and down, slowly at first, admiring the way you squeeze his dick every time he’s fully inside.

“fuck, you feel so good matt.” you whine against his lips as quietly as possible, picking up the pace and moving your hips at a quicker speed, hands on the frame of the sofa to help you bounce.

“promise you feel better.” he manages to respond before having to bite down on his bottom lip hard to contain a moan.

you’re riding him so well, skin slapping skin together ever so slightly. matt uses one hand to tug your bra down so he can slide his tongue over one of your nipples. you arch into his wet mouth, enjoying the way he softly sucks on each of them, swapping every so often.

he loves having your tits in his face so much, and he knows he won’t be able to hang on much longer with the way you’re moving.

“m’close, oh fuck—” his eyes roll back as you rock against him as fast as possible, rotating your hips so he hits a different spot every time.

“that’s it baby, keep fucking me, let it all go.” you command, relishing in the wave that’s taking over you as well.

matt slams you down on him a couple more times before he feels his fingers lose their grip, shuddering as he finishes inside you, breathless and sweaty.

your own muscles tense and you dive into it, releasing all over his cock as you slow your pace due to the overstimulation. you’re also panting as you slide off of him, rolling over his leg so you can sit beside him for a minute.

“that was…wow.” matt sighs happily as the both of you readjust your underwear.

“agreed.” you turn your head to smile at him, leaning in for one more little kiss.

it’s short, but it’s still just as passionate as the ones that came before. you could do it all day, his lips are just that soft.

“we should probably get cleaned up. do you wanna spend the night in my room?” his voice is still hushed once you pull away, and there’s a certain weight behind his words.

“i kinda want to sleep in your room every night.” you reply honestly, and his face lights up again at the confession, because he feels the exact same.

“i think i would kinda like that a lot.”

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #matthew sturniolo smut #matthew x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #fanfic

[nrdmssgs]

Reacting to the reader, accidentally falling asleep on them. (Price, Ghost, Gaz)

Masterlist

Part 1 (Soap, Alex, Konig)

Captain John Price

Platonic

Won't mind, if his old friend takes a quick nap on his shoulder, as long as this old friend tolerates a cigar smoke.

If he was discussing something with the others, and you happened to fall asleep - he'll try to speak quieter to the point, where his low velvety voice turns into a full-fledged asmr session.

But if the talk grows heated and his low menacing rumble wakes you up accidentally - he'll just pull you back on his shoulder. "Sorry, darling, go back to sleep... Now back to you, you d**p sh*t!"

Will unconsciously fidget with your fingers, John can't help it: your skin is so soft - it calms him down to lightly massage and caress your hand while you are napping.

Price finds it endearing, how flustered you got, after you finally woke up and understood, how exactly have you been sleeping all this time. Once again, he has nothing against it, but he will gladly joke about it, just to see you blushing. "Of course, you can spend a considerable amount of money on this orthopedic pillow in the hope that it will help you start sleeping better. Or you can always call one of your old friends - it costs nothing..."

Romantic

John will have to fight the urge to scoop and cradle you, so that you lean against him with your full weigh, enjoying his warmth enveloping you.

Even if he has something to do - his attention will be concentrated on you. Your calm deep breaths, your fingers clasping on his shirt lightly - that is what Price consumes with his every his single fiber. Because after all, it's memories of those things that keep him alive and sane on the battlefield.

Will definitely kiss the top of your head, even if you two are not alone. Multiple times.

It's moments like these, when he remembers to take a pause, look outside the window, remember, that his war is not everything he has - there is life beyond it.

Expect to wake up with his hand on your head, fingers sinking into your hair, a warm smile blooming on his face as he notices you slowly opening your eyes. "Had a nice nap, my love? Now how about I take you somewhere, you could actually sleep properly?"

Simon Ghost Riley

(this one turned out more like a scenario, sorry)

Platonic

Ghost doesn't notice the weight of your head on his lap right away. He's seen you curl up on a bench next to where he was sitting, but you are so small and light in comparison to him, it's hard to register your head leaning against him.

He sits at the table and talks to someone, when it hits him: a strange warmth, spreading in all directions of his body from the place your cheek meet his lap.

Simon makes a little, almost unnoticeable, pause, breathes in and goes on talking.

There's a voice in the back of his head, telling him to find anything, that might resemble a pillow, for you to sleep on. It would be so much better, than his dusty jeans. And you definitely deserve something softer than his lap to rest on.

But there's nothing, that he could offer you right now to replace him. So he settles to sitting as still as he possibly could and covering the edge of the table with his hand in case you wake up and get up abruptly. Little gesture, showing how much he really cares for every squadmate, how much he values their trust.

Back on the base, you notice, some late training hours disappeared from your timetable. Your Lt may never comment on you briefly passing out on his lap, but he never forgot, you needed a bit more time to rest after the last mission.

Romantic

He might be reserved and distant with you in public. Nothing personal, just a professional attitude, a facade, if you want. But here, behind the closed doors of his room, he freezes the very next minute he hears your muffled mumbling as you drifted to sleep on his shoulder.

"Don't go. Not yet."

Simons' heart sinks. He wishes, he didn't know, what were you talking about in your sleep, but he knows. Even in your dreams, on the territory, where you can have anything, you've ever wished for - you ask only for him to stay.

In public, you are always ok with him going on missions without you. You are always collected, supportive and optimistic. But when no one is around, you let yourself cling to Ghost for a brief moment, clasp your fingers around his arm and wordlessly plead 'don't go, don't go, don't go, don't...'

As he brushes hair from your face, you slightly flinch, not waking up.

"Take me, not him."

Simon looks at your face, feeling guilt building up in his chest. He puts his work papers aside, scoops you up and carries you to his bed. There he cradles you, caressing your face till you stop mumbling, descending to deeper sleep.

You wake up the next morning alone, surrounded by his scent, as he left you his shirt. He always does that, when he leaves on a mission without you. Your gaze wanders around, till it stops on your arm. His handwriting, black pen ink, covering your skin. Never before has he done anything like this. You grab your phone and frantically make a few dozens of photos of the inscription, that he left on you. You already know, that you'll make it permanent.

The inscription says "On my way to you"

Kyle Gaz Garrick

Platonic

Kyle is actually the one to ask others to speak quieter, when he realizes, you've fallen asleep on his lap.

Will shoo away Soap, who is ready to attack you and Kyle with a myriad of 'so when's the wedding' jokes.

Gaz is also the one to actually make sure, that there is nothing hard in his pockets and that the no sharp edges of his tactical clothes touch your delicate skin. He is a very good, genuinely caring friend.

In fact, he will protect you from any person, threatening your sleep. He will even convince Ghost to come back to you with new intel or orders just a bit later, or give them to Gaz, so that he can tell you everything later.

If you work together - he will try to help you with paperwork, so that you have more time to sleep between trainings and missions.

Romantic

Kyle has that face of the happiest, most proud man out there. It's you, the one, he has been dreaming about for so long, feeling so relaxed next to him. Not only he has you - he can make you so content, you smile, while napping on his shoulder.

His eyes are glued to your face. Nothing else matters in this very moment. It's impossible to distract him with anything.

Covers you with his jacket, always makes sure that you are warm and comfortable in his hands.

Loves to surprise you with something small, every time it happens and you wake up on his shoulder. If you two were in the park - Gaz will carefully pick a flower and tuck it in your hair. If it happened in a coffee shop - he will quietly order your favorite cupcake and move the plate towards you.

Lives for that smiles appearing on your lips in first moments after you wake up. Peppers your face with kisses. "Morning, sunshine!" (says it even if it's almost midnight, and he is about to drag you to the bedroom in a few minutes)

#cod #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod headcanons #141 headcanons #captain price #captain john price #cod price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #ghost x you #ghost simon riley #kyle garrick #gaz mw2 #cod gaz #gaz x you #gaz x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #call of duty #price x reader #price mw2 #john price #ghost headcanons #kyle gaz garrick #gaz headcanons #price headcanons

[st4rgzer]

now playing…SO LONG, LONDON (spencer reid)

summary: spencer realizes how much damage he had been causing you.

genre: angst with fluffy ending

cw!: idk relationship problems?😭 also use of y/n and y/l/n (your last name)

a/n: so since y’all wanted a happy ending version! here it is, it isn’t quite like the song but yeah, you guys get the point. masterlist

tension protruded eagerly from the silent room. it was dim, you had left some candles lit but that was it. your cheeks were wet and hot. but somehow you still felt an adamant numbing sensation of coldness. your weary bones hugged your knees, sniffles breaking through the silence.

“how long did you think i could’ve held on” you muttered through your broken voice.

“what?” he lifted his head from in between his legs where he had his hands pressed to the back of his neck.

“how long did you think i could’ve held on to you? were you just going to let me destroy myself, give everything i had just for you to crack a smile?” you spoke loudly now, sharp words that stung as spencer heard every one of them.

he didn’t respond. instead, he just listened. he knew the last thing you wanted from him right now was for him tp talk back, so he let you talk.

“fuck, even my friends said it was not right to be scared! not of you, but of how quickly your temperament can change from one moment to another. every breath that i take feels like im stealing it from you, like- like when i do finally get to do so, its short and doesn’t last long until i have to hold my breath again.”

“do you resent me, spencer? is that what this is? you left the BAU after you got back from prison, and i thought it was to settle down, make me your wife. but you never wanted this, did you?” spencers head perked up. his demeaner changed. he went from attentive and remorseful to stern.

“do not say that. “ he pointed a finger at you “y/n y/l/n don’t you, for a second, think i regret any minute i’ve ever spent with you, i regret a lot of things in my life but meeting you, loving you? i’ve never thought twice about that. you are my number one priority in this life, and im sorry i couldn’t give you everything you wanted, at least not right now. but i promise, i swear on my life, if that even means anything, that i’m going to get better. and i know actions speak more than words, but please, please hold on. i’m not going to insist you stay here with me, but just promise you’ll come back when you’re ready? i love you, y/n, and i hate myself for even thinking that i hurt you.” his tone was indulgent, pleading almost. he had stood up and waved his hands frantically as he punctuated each word, meaning every one. his frazzled hair and big brown eyes kept you at bay.

for a few minutes there was silence as you quietly digested his words.

“do you mean that?” you whispered, fragile, as you looked up at him.

he nodded his head, looking away and blinking a few times. trying to hold in the tears that painfully pricked his waterline.

you sighed, attempting to weigh the pro’s and con’s of the situation, but you loved him. a mental list of the good and the bad wasn’t going to decide the fate of your life. in every relationship there’s hell in heaven, eventually, happiness comes back. all you knew was that this man encapsulated your whole being with nothing more than love and affection, so you knew that this was nothing but a small dent in the glass case that encased the rose that was your love.

you opened your arms, he hesitantly got down to your level. you held him tightly, as if the weight of the wind was to carry him away at any moment. he buried his head in qthe crook of your neck, sniffling as he let out soft sobs, and whispers of apologies.

eventually, the tears ceased. and you both laid there, enveloped. consumed by each other, hands caught in spencers hair from raking through it, as sleep caught onto you. spencer kissed the bridge of your nose gently.

“i love you”

“i love you too”

a/n: guys idk how to feel about this one, this might have been my least favorite so far😭

taglist: @ilovesadiesink @sp3ncelle @lvtilzs @bunnylov-3-r @bellasprettywords

*comment to be added*

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #criminal minds

[itsfairly]

cw: drabble, sfw, pregnant!reader, established relationship fluff, fluff, fluff. not proofread

a/n: you can thank hospital playlist for this. i saw that scene in season 2 and just knew that would be what nanami would do. so yeah, papamin has been in my mind for a long time.

When you first told Nanami you were pregnant, he wanted to show you how much of a good dad he would be. Yes, he would pamper you like never before and stay by your side so that you wouldn't have to lift a finger, letting you and the baby take it easy until the birth. But as the date of delivery came closer and closer, he asked you if he could record the birth.

It wasn't a weird request by any means, many parents wanted that memory when their little ones left the womb and came into the world to officially become a human. While many may think of birth as disgusting or traumatizing to the point where the mere mention of the process sent shivers down their spine, it made Nanami feel butterflies in his stomach. This was his child we're talking about, his child with you. Of course he wanted to capture their first cries, to remember whatever feelings and thoughts you two—three—had at the moment. It was a huge thing he wanted to keep somewhere other than your memories.

Besides, all good dads record their kid's birth, right? It was something Nanami believed. It was one thing to pamper your child from the womb and another one to have them right in front of you. You couldn't capture the moment he found out you were pregnant, but he could record when they came to the world as a little welcome. It was more than keeping a memory, it was showing how dedicated he was to being a good father.

His excitement made it hard to say no, not that you would anyway. It was a simple request. Even if you knew you wouldn't be in your finest appearance when delivering the baby, you couldn't deny it was a moment you wanted to look back fondly. You could see how much recording it meant to him and you couldn't say anything but yes.

As your belly grew bigger and bigger, doctor's appointment after doctor's appointment, it was time to get the camera ready.

It was nerve-wracking, to say the least. You looked so nervous and your screams didn't ease his nerves. It was a weird feeling if he was honest. Here you were, screaming and crying at nothing and everything on your way to the hospital that made his heart clench from his own hopelessness in trying to ease the pain. But on the other side, it was your little one causing you all this because they were ready to greet their parents after months of hearing your voices, kicking their way out of you. Bittersweet didn't cut it for Nanami, worried for you but excited for the baby.

His nerves finally eased when you arrived at the hospital and the two—almost three—were rushed to the delivery room. His hand was tight around yours, but not as tight as yours once he told you to take all your pain out on him, holding onto him for dear life with a white-knuckle grip. He tried to calm you down in any way he could as you headed to the room, anything that would make the pain more bearable, anything that would remind you it would be worth it in the end for the two of you.

It wasn't until you were settled in the room and the doctor and nurses were now in their positions to assist you in the birth that Nanami was told he could start recording now. Kissing your hand before letting it go, Nanami takes out the camera and stands far away to let the medics do their job in keeping you and the baby safe, pressing record once he found a good enough angle to capture the arrival of your little one.

Screaming and crying became louder and more desperate, making him grip the camera tighter. But with each push, Nanami realized something through the camera screen. As the doctors were telling you to push and you groaned and yelled each time, he realized how strong you were. The scene before him would be one others would think of as stressful, but he thought it was beautiful. That you were beautiful. All this strength and determination you had through the pain to get your baby out safely sent an arrow through his heart like all those years ago he met you. Sweat and tears may be covering your face, your hair falling and sticking to it strand by strand, and your expression wasn't what you called picture perfect, but you were beautiful.

He may have done everything while you were pregnant—provided for you, cleaned the house, built the nursery room, soothed your craving at 2am despite everything being closed, comforted you through your mood swings, showered you with love and adoration...and it still didn't feel enough to what you were doing right this second. You were giving him a child. You, you wonderful you.

When his own tears roll down his cheeks, he doesn't wipe them away, accepting them as part of this joyful experience you were giving him. He just felt blessed to have you so willing and determined and strong to be doing something as demanding as giving birth, he doesn't think he can emphasize how amazing you were to him right now. You were his adoration, now and forever.

With a final push, you lay back down on the hospital bed and a new high-pitched set of cries join the world. Your baby was here with you, all safe and sound thanks to you.

Nanami doesn't think twice as his feet guide him to you, placing his free hand on your head and caressing it gently. His tears continue to fall down his face, smiling at you so widely you were sure it was the anesthetic acting up. It is when his lips kiss all over your face, soft and wet from the tears, that you realize that this moment is real. As Nanami continued to caress you and pepper every area of your face with kisses, your baby making his presence known with his cries, the camera continued to record the moment. The only difference is that the focus wasn't on the baby, but rather on the husband and wife moment between you two.

I love you, honey. I love you so much, my love.

You did amazing. Thank you for bringing our child to us.

You're so strong, you did it.

All that praise and affection made it easy to see how much of a tender moment this was for the two of you. A moment that was now shared on your baby's birth video. The only difference is that now, instead of showing how your little one came into the world, it is showing how you brought your baby to the world. Nanami loves that idea far more.

That day, Nanami showed that he would be a good father. But he also showed that he would be an even better husband than he has ever been before. Both for you and your little baby girl. That video is enough of a proof.

#nanami kento #kento nanami #nanami #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x y/n #nanami kento x you #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento x reader fluff #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x reader fluff #kento nanami x you #kento nanami x y/n #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento fanfic #kento nanami fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk nanami kento #jjk nanami

[cutielando]

i'll take care of you ~ jj maybank

my masterlist

You woke up to the sound of your phone ringing. You reached our for it and when you saw who the caller was, you immediately sat up and answered it.

"Babe? What's wrong?"

JJ's heavy breath was the only thing you could hear.

"JJ? Is everything okay? What's going on?" you pressed, panic settling in your chest.

"Can I come over? I'll explain everything" his voice was so small, you could barely hear him.

"Of course you can, baby"

"I'll see you in 10 minutes" he said and hung up, not giving you a chance to say anything else.

It wasn't weird to get phone calls from JJ in the middle of the night, but he was never this distressed. Your mind started coming up with all kinds of scenarios, one worse than the other.

The 10 minute wait seemed like forever before you heard the all too familiar knock on your window.

You immediately jumped and opened it, being met with the bloody and bruised smiling face of your boyfriend.

"What happened to your face?" you asked while helping him enter your room without making too much noise to wake up your parents.

"Nothing serious, it's fine. Doesn't hurt as bad as it looks" he shrugged his shoulders and laid back on your bed.

You stood rooted in your spot, staring at him. You knew where the bruises came from all too well, but it didn't help that JJ was still trying to hide them from you.

"J, please just tell me the truth" your voice was small, knowing that JJ couldn't deal with screams and anger.

"I am, it's nothint that hasn't happened before. I'm used to it, it's fine" he was now sitting up, patting the spot next to him.

You bit your lip but complied and sat down, putting your right hand on his knee.

"I'm sorry you have to go through this, baby" tears started streaming down your cheeks by now, sobs fighting their way out of your body.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, it's just how he is. He's not always like this, you know, he has his good moments" the fact that he still tried to defend his dad, beaten to a pulp by him, brought even more tears and sadness in you.

"You don't deserve this, baby. Nobody should ever lay a finger on you, let alone a hand. You deserve so much better" you rested your head against his shoulder, squeezing his knee in comfort.

He brought a hand down to his knee and took hold of yours. You interlocked your fingers and squeezed, knowing how much JJ needed to feel you there with him.

"I have you, and that's all I need. Don't be so hard on yourself, it's not your fault" he whispered, kissing your forehead.

"Please let me take care of you. I'll talk to my parents and see if you can stay here for a while. They can even become your legal guardians until you turn 18. I know they'll do it, and you'll finally have a safe place that you could call home" the idea seemed so simple and easy for you, but it seemed like such a stretch to JJ.

"I can't ask you or your parents to do that, babe. Being a burden to your family is the last thing I want to do" he tried to reason with you, but you weren't having it.

"No, you listen to me. I am not letting you go back home, JJ. My parents love you and I know they are going to want to help you. Please don't push me away, let me help you" you were basically begging him at this point, but you didn't care.

Nobody deserved the life that he had, and you'll be damned if his father touched him one more time. You were going to do everything in your power to make sure he'd never received another punch or insult from his dad ever again.

"Okay" he finally whispered after a while, chewing on his bottom lip.

You let out a big sigh of relief you didn't know you were holding and wrapped him in your arms, silent tears falling down your face.

He buried his head in your neck, taking in your familiar scent and warm hold.

He finally felt like things could finally take a turn for the better. Like he would get a new chance at life.

All because of you.

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[graves-simper]

What really happened in Room 302?

Yes, just like everyone else I am finally doing a small essay/analysis on TCOAAL.

This time I wanted to dive in something that wasn't a big part of the game, but has been on my mind since my first play through of the game and that is like the title states; What really happened in Room 302? Lets begin.

I wanted to start off by talking about the Lady in Room 302. Who is she?

We really don't know much. Her eye color isn't shown, she looks somewhat average but in terms of others opinions (ie; the Warden's and even Ashley) She is a very pretty woman. Even at a point Andrew says that she looks good. Take a look at some of the dialog below:

I mean, wasn't she?

After this very tasteful conversation these two love-birds have, Ashley heads up to commence the ritual to sacrifice the 2nd Warden, and of course Our Ashley pulls it off with no problems, and back downstairs she goes with full intentions of painting the wall with Lady 302's brains, but it appears someone beat her to the punch.

AND NOW I PRESENT WHERE I IMMEDIATELY BEGAN TO CALL CAP ON MR. DOORMAT EXTRAORDINAIRE AND HIS SILLY LITTLE LIES.

Your honor, this man is absolutely lying. The first thing that made me question everything about his story here is where she is lying dead. On the damn bed. Your honor, let's enhance this real quick.

That nail gun is a damn good several feet away from where Lady 302 lies dead on the bed. In fact it is in exactly the same position as when we left Andrew alone with her, and look at the sheer distance. These apartments clearly aren't huge but let me just be critical for a minute. Her mattress appears to be a single style mattress, so lets take in some measurements.

I can settle on the length being 75" or 6.25ft. So the apartment is about 12 feet wide. Not huge by any means, but to go from sitting down on a bed, even the edge, she would have to make quite the lunge while accounting for some random maniac being right next to you with a meat cleaver. I also do not think she would be the type to risk her life for a daring escape. Look at how absolutely bewildered she is the second Andrew rushes her.

That is NOT the face of someone who is absolutely down to fuck around and find out. She also had a chance to get help while also risking her life, when she is given the radio she could have screamed for help, and while yes she would've died, at this point I would say the risk factor was relatively similar.

Now that I have established my reasoning for why I don't think this lady tried to kill Andrew with a nailgun or even had the chance to, let's go over some of the reasons I think he DID choose to kill her.

No Witnesses.

This is a very boring theory but I have to bring it up no less. I think there is a good chance he just said fuck it, and killed her for the sake of not leaving evidence behind. She saw their faces, heard their names, and they even said they were her neighbor from upstairs. Leaving her behind could've ruined EVERYTHING for them after this point, and based on Ashley's sour reaction to her mere existence, I think he already knew damn well Ashley would want her dead too.

Make my Ashley happy.

This ties back to the point I made in No Witnesses. Ashley took her as a threat, and obviously Andrew noticed. She was not pleased after he called her "Pretty". I think once he was alone, he figured he would off her to show Ashley that he wasn't ogling her or wanting to do anything with her. In fact she meant so little to him, he butchered her right on her bed. To support this, the way Ashley reacts when she returns absolutely floors Andrew, he is calm about what happened but Ashley is still coming up with thoughts that he tried to fuck her, when in his mind, he was probably hoping she would be thrilled that he killed this awful, hell-bound, hussie. But instead she is still somehow mad despite her being now a corpse. He becomes to fed up that even though he did what she would've anyways, it is somehow not good enough for her. (I will dive deeper into this interaction below with another theory that relies heavily on this.)

The Hussie hit on him.

This one ties into Make my Ashley happy. There is a good chance this obviously sexually attractive woman tried seducing Andrew while they were alone. She had no problem doing it with the Warden's to get better treatment, and I have no doubt this was her go-to get out of trouble free card. This charming young man would surely fall for her good looks right? Right? There's two thought processes that would make this reasonable. 1. He was worried how Ashley would react if she walked in with her clearly flirting with him and how that would make her feel. 2. My personal favorite of these two, he is dedicated to Ashley and was offended by her advances and killed her in a show of devotion to her.

Now that we have the more sane theories out of the way, lets get to the GOOD STUFF.

Andrew's Fantasy.

This theory is more of a mental guess as to Andrew's relationship and views of Ashley. He has been clearly fed up with her more than once up to this point, having arguments, dealing with her shit, and all the trauma he just experienced from starving for weeks, isolation, and having to butcher and eat someone, and then murder a man to save her.

What if once Andrew had a moment alone with someone who was essentially his victim, he decided to truly see how he felt about something. I believe Andrew may have not seen Lady 302 as Ashley, but just for the hell of it, imagined that she was Ashley. Despite the different appearances, I'm sure he could overlook it in the state of mind he was in at this point, and decided how it would feel to finally kill "Ashley". The way he kills her just doesn't feel like he said fuck it and wanted the lady dead, she is laid out on the bed, there's no signs of a struggle either. Later in the game during one of the visions, there is the one where Andrew finally kills Ashley. When she accepts that he will kill her, he brings the cleaver to her throat similarly to how the throat of Lady 302 was cut. The similarities just feel so similar that I had to bring this up despite it being possibly far fetched but that's what makes these fun!

and now for my most absolutely far fetched theory yet.

Don't these two look similar?

This theory is much more far fetched but hear me out on this!

I know this may be a result of Nemlei's artstyle but these two have some stark similarities in my opinion. Both blonde, same eye color based on the greyscale of them, similar hair parting, and a similar face shape.

After all the trauma Andrew went through in the weeks locked in their apartment and then killing several people and eating one no doubt sent his brain to a bad place.

I think after all that hell he endured he may have simply had a breaking point and felt like he saw a ghost or just the stark similarities between Lady 302 and Nina just made something snap.

I want to back this up by making a point to the story telling in the game. Before they go and escape their apartment conveniently before the Room 302 incident, there is a dream about how Andrew and Ashley killed Nina. This could be just the flow of the story telling however, I feel like it was a lead up to what really happened in Room 302. It just feels too perfect to include that scene right before he kills someone who I am assuming is what Nina may have grown up to look like, AND then with this scene occurring once Ashley returns almost feels like a nail in the coffin of this theory.

Nina isn't brought up in the apartment, or once they're in the motel. Nina is brought up during a heated exchange in Room 302 right after Andrew might have felt as if he killed Nina once again, yet just like when they killed Nina, Ashley still somehow thinks that Andrew has a thing for a woman he helped kill, and this absolutely drives him off his fucking rocker.

This exchange floored Mr. Doormat so intensely he finally was ready to absolutely throttle the life out of her. Andrew was finally so fed up with being berated for doing things for Ashley's sake he just wanted it to be done and over with forever. Andrew once again found himself in the same place Ashley put him in all those years ago, but this time he knows he isn't as vulnerable as he was and uses it to his advantage, but after their little squabble, they leave together to bless our hearts with Chapter 2.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Perhaps this was as plain as the story made it out to be. There is a good chance that Andrew didn't want to leave a witness and said hell with it and butchered the woman in Room 302. But I'd like to believe that with all the hidden details Nemlei has scattered throughout this game that there is truth to one of these theories, hell maybe even a giant jumble of them all together is the true story of Room 302.

But with everything I presented today I hope you all perhaps are too questioning what really happened in Room 302 like I was.

I'd love to hear any theories you guys have regarding this or twists/opinions on the ones I presented here!

Thank you all for reading!

#andrew graves #ashley graves #gravecest #tcoaal #the coffin of andy and leyley #andrew x ashley #ashley x andrew #leyley graves #tcoal #andy and leyley

[thatonepeppi]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧gale dekarios head canons✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊

I CANNOT stop thinking about this man, so I'm going to dump all of my thoughts here, enjoy :)

the format is odd, I have not written in some time, excuse me :3

☾ after the final battle

⋆ after the final battle, the two of you go back to your own room in the Elf Song Tavern, not before a very much needed shower that is. You two care for each other, chatting slowly and longingly at what your next moves are like the two of you have all the time in the world -and now you do.

⋆ Gale tiptoes around the subject of Waterdeep. He longs to be home, he's been picturing you this entire time in his home, doing everything. Making love, cooking for you, having tea in the mornings, how you would look in his bed as the sunlight and the moonlight creep in. Gale wants that life with you desperately, something simple and cozy, and with love in every action.

"Are you still there?" Tav asks, "My hair feels very clean now, especially in that particular spot."

In the midst of his reverie, a subtle "Hmm?" escaped from Gale's lips, abruptly awakened from a trance, "Oh, apologies, Dearest. A lot on my mind -- well I guess not so much anymore," He laughs quietly, rinsing off the bubbles in their hair, fingering through their strands of hair. Wherever Tav was needed, he would be sure to follow, he was certain of it. But still, he was homesick.

Tav frowns, "What's wrong, Love?" They lean into Gale, "You can talk to me, about anything."

Minutes slipped by like grains of sand in an hourglass until Gale finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "Tav," he began, hesitating as if unsure of his own words, "I... I miss home. Waterdeep," He looks away, "Wherever you go, know that I will follow and happily too. Whether it be another adventure, here in Baldur's Gate, your own home. For you, I would sleep on the ground again, as long as your warm presence is there with me," He looks at them, nothing but warmth and sincerity in his words and in his eyes, "I love you, wherever we go, or wherever you are."

Tav's heart ached at the confession, the weight of Gale's homesickness palpable in the steam-filled air. Without hesitation, they reached out, clasping Gale's sun kissed and freckled hands in a gentle reassurance, giving them a gentle kiss.

"I know, my love," Tav murmured, their voice soft as a caress. "We can go home whenever you're ready. I'll be right here, by your side, every step of the way."

In that moment, as Gale's eyes met theirs with a mixture of gratitude and relief, Tav realized that home wasn't just a place—it was the warmth of their shared love, cocooned in the sanctuary of the bath, and where they found solace in each other's embrace. And though Gale longed for the familiar sights and sounds of Waterdeep, Tav knew that their love would be their anchor, no matter where their adventures took them in the realms.

☾ home

⋆ Gale is giddy from the start of the morning hopping off the massive ship the two of you took to get to Waterdeep. He takes your hand in his as he guides you down his city, excitingly pointing out all the areas he promises to take you once the two of you are settled.

⋆ Stepping into Gale's tower, you are immediately embraced by a whimsical antiquity, the cozy allure of a bygone era evident in every corner. Soft candlelight bathes the space, casting dancing shadows that whisper tales of adventure. Books adorn every surface, their well-loved pages holding secrets and enchantments, while antique treasures dot the shelves, each one a nostalgic relic of older times. Through the grand balcony, the endless expanse of the ocean stretches out, its rhythmic waves a soothing melody. Ships setting sail, the grunts of the dockhands as they tie these giant ships to their posts. In this enchanting haven, amidst the warmth of history and the timeless beauty of the sea, you find a sanctuary unlike any other. Home.

⋆ After settling in, you experience a life like no other. Gale is incessant on cooking you breakfast almost every morning. He knows how to prepare your morning coffees and afternoon teas by heart. Mornings are for the two of you to lounge in bed, holding each other, listening to the crashing waves, feeling that cool—salty breeze caress your warm bodies.

⋆ Breakfast is eaten over the occasional game of lance board on the grand mahogany table. The two of you recounting your adventures, encounters and memories. Gentle caresses and soft laughter are a welcome guest at breakfast. Even at the dinner table it seems like the two of you can't keep your hands off of each other.

⋆ Tara finds her way back home not long after. Its the very early morning, and a rare day where Gale is still in bed. You walk over to the tressym pawing at the large window, demanding to be let in. You smile as you let her in, and her furry body hurriedly makes her way inside.

"About time you let me in, I've been howling for hours, Darling, I feel parched!" The winged cat says, "I was not told that the two of you made it back, what a journey. Luckily for you, I am quite the magical tresseym, a simple spell like the one I invented is no match for miles and miles of road and walking," Tara trails off, making herself at home and out of earshot, you can still hear her grumpy rambling however, "Tav Dekarios!" She yells and you hurry over to see her sitting, licking herself next to an elegant white bowl on the floor, "My dish needs water."

You fill her dish with cold water, making sure to also refill her food bowl, you smile at the thought of you taking Gales last name already, hopefully you and Tara can foster a good relationship.

"And where is Mr. Dekarios currently?," Tara says stretching.

"Still in bed, and very warm if you would like to snuggle up to him."

Tara meows excitingly, "Oh, that sounds divine, Dear. Thank you ever so kindly for keeping him warm," She says as you start to get up, "But before you go Ms/Mr/Mx Dekarios, there is something very important that you must learn. Something that will quickly earn your favor with me."

"And what would that be Ms. Tara?" You question, facing down at the tressym, still at ground level with her.

She looks at you with widened pupils, "A good scratch behind this tressyms ears would be delightful, I will show you how but only once! This is known as my 'Due' and it's been made clear to me that you are quite the capable person to be entrusted with such a delicate procedure," Tara leans her head down and closes her little eyes. She rubs her ears with her paws to show you exactly how she wants to be pet, but to you, it looks like she's just cleaning herself, "You see? Like this, Dear, gently but also with some vigor." She looks back at you, "Your turn, but you must remember the technique."

You smile at the tressym, before going to scratch her behind the ears, silently praying that you are doing something right. She purrs and leans into your hand, making a sweet little content face as it looks like she's getting lost in the scratch.

Tara abruptly stops and clears her throat, "That will have to do, thank you," She trails off into you and Gales shared room. You hear a faint, "Mr. Dekarios! I have arrived!" in a little sing-song voice, and then a groan from a very sleepy Gale.

⋆ Some of your items find their way into the house, Gale is sure to make space for you to fit you into his home. Your shirts sometimes get mixed up, "Is this my book or yours?" is a common question.

⋆ He loves seeing your personality fill his house, items depending on your class are scattered around the tower. If you are a druid, house plants are hung from the ceiling, there is a small succulent on Gale's desk (It replaces Mystra's statue.).

⋆ If you are a bard, he loves to hear your music throughout the house. Gale loves to hear your song from the balcony as he's reading. He buys you sheet music, new strings, equipment. He could listen to you for hours, and most days he does.

⋆ Gale is interested in your interests and makes sure to make time for you to listen to you about your favorite topics. Being seen and heard is very important to him.

⋆ Over time, he does lose the earring. He finds one that reminds him of you. A music note, a sword, a small plant stud, or just about anything that he would relate to you.

⋆Gale loves you more than anything and he wants to make that very clear, even if you feel like these small reminders of Mystra don't bother you, he would rather having something that would make him think of you rather than her.

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Thank you sm for reading, friends!! its been very long since ive written something and this isn't proof read >.< hope it was okay. Love you!!

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #gale x tav #tav #gale #bg3 #bg3 tav #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #love the third person and first person #its 3 am leave me alone #also I love tara SM #she's adorable #tara the tressym

[luna0713hunter]

Kiss me where it hurts the most

Zoro Roronoa x reader

Summary : sometimes,things happen and hearts break. Sometimes,everyone need a good cry. But maybe hiding away and crying alone,away from your boyfriend wasnt a good idea.

Warnings : none,just hurt/comfort,reader is having a hard time,break downs and panic attacks,soft zoro,fluff

For anyone who's having a rough time :) hope u get well soon

*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘

Leaning against the wooden wall of the storage room,you calmly sit down and try to make yourself as comfortable as you possibly can in the small space behind the stored boxes. You try to be as quiet as possible;not wanting to make any noise and wake someone up.

You didnt want to be found just yet.

You knew what you were doing wasnt actually wrong;after all,its only human nature wanting to hide away and have a little alone time. But for some reason,you felt guilty. Guilty for running away from your friends' help,and your boyfriend's concerned gaze.

It was too much.

Your life wasnt all sunshine and flowers,thats why you chose to join the StrawHats and sail away; hoping that maybe becoming a pirate,may solve your problems. But boy,you were wrong.

Problems seem to sail with you as well. And no matter how hard you tried to bottle everything up,at some point,it was bound to break,and break you as well. So when everything became too much,you skipped dinner,told your boyfriend that you're tired and instead of resting,you found a secret spot in the storage room to calm down.

And when the first tear rolled down your cheek,you knew you were screwed;once your tears start, there's no stopping them.

You hands tightly press against your mouth as you squeeze your eyes shut and try to muffle your cries. Everything feels so heavy. Too fucking much. You have no idea what finally triggered your breaking,but whatever it was,it fucked you up good.

You lower your head and rest your forehead against your knees;since when life became so complicated? sure,ever since you remembered,you understood way too much,more than your age. You were always the kid trying to make everyone feel better,helping them and be a shoulder they could lean or cry on. But ironically,no one ever did the same for you.

So when your own boyfriend,Zoro,tried to make you talk,of course you shut him out;not understanding why he would waste his time listening to your nonsense. You were fine,maybe feeling a bit down and suffocating,but you were fine.

You wouldn't want Zoro to leave you after all with your problems-

Zoro would only hate you-

Who we would want someone with so many baggage after all?

Trying desperately to shut up the voices in your head,you wrap your arms around your head to cover your ears;so when a pair of rushes footsteps hurry toward you,of course you dont hear.

You jerk shakily,your eyes snapping open when a pair of hands settle on your shoulder and squeeze with a small amount of pressure;trying to ground you and make you look at him.

Him

Your lips wobble as your eyes lock with Zoro's;and with a sudden rush of panic,you try to push him away.

He doesn't move.

"Y/n," his voice is thick, heavier than always, " whats wrong?"

When you dont answer and choose to bite your lips until they almost bleed,with a sudden move, he's pulling you to his chest

"babe,tell me what the fuck is wrong. I swear I'll fix it."

And thank god your face is buried in Zoro's chest;because as soon as those words leave his mouth, you're breaking down again.

Your sobs are loud and heartbreaking to anyone listening,and you feel Zoro's arms squeezing you tighter. You wrap your own arms around his back,and burry your face more in his shirt;taking in his soothing scent.

Zoro always smelled liked rain,apples and freshly cutted grass.

"baby girl," his voice is soft as he rubs up and down your back;one hand combing through your hair, "dont cry. Tell me whats wrong. Who hurt you? I'll kill them myself."

"just," your throat feels hoarse after crying so much,but you manage to get out few words, "stay. Dont go."

And Zoro never denies you anything.

So you just sit there. Half in Zoro's lap,with your arms wrapped around his neck,and your face buried in his neck. His hands never once stop rubbing your back,and for someone not a fan of talking,he never stops his sweet words and gentle praises.

For you,Zoro is always a different man.

After a long time,when you're finally calmed down and tired from all the crying,Zoro leans his back against the wooden wall and pulls you completely in his lap to cradle you against his chest. Your eyes are heavy when you look up at him

"sleepy?"

And after a nod from you, your eyes fall shut when his presses his lips to your forehead.

"then sleep. We can talk when you're awake."

With another nod,you close your eyes and fall asleep. And strangely,you dont dream of anything.

#one piece live action x reader #one piece x reader #opla zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #opla zoro roronoa x reader #zoro x reader

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

hello! I would like a Dazai Osamu bsd headcanons, where he considers the reader his reason for living… if it's not too much trouble! ♡

A/N: Of course!! Thank you so much for this request, it’s so cute! I'm definately going to expand on this in the future.

Warnings: Dazai being Dazai, mentions of panic attacks, mentions of PTSD, implied smut but no detail, stalking tendencies

Navigation!! // Masterlist

Dazai really never thought he would meet anyone that would make him want to live

he felt like his life was almost meaningless

like the world was too messed up for him to want to live in, to him there was no point

But then he meets you, it's at the train station and you're buying flowers for your mother

she's sick and you're seeing her while you can

you two make small talk and Dazai mentions where he works, it piques your interest

He doesn't talk much after that, and mainly because the train is close to leaving so Dazai needs to take his seat

But that doesn't stop him from thinking of you, and after days, almost a month, of not seeing you but not forgetting you, he caves and begins to search

He finds your name, address, place of work, where you were born, everything

He starts showing up at places you would be near, and he catches glimpses of you

it seems like you're genuinely a good person, like you radiate this warmth off you

he enjoys it, he craves it

fast forward a few months after Dazai's weird stalking, he unloads onto you while he's drunk

You're walking him back to his apartment

He starts breaking down in an alley way, his bandages coming undone and he's frantic, you've never seen him like this before

he's about to rip his hair out, he's struggling to breathe, he's panicking, PTSD has him in a choke hold as of right now

Some people also panic when things like this happen, other people just wait it out

You were a mix between the two; internally panicking but also waiting it out

You were unsure if you should touch him, so you settled for talking to him instead, with a slight hold on his arms

He had sat against a wall, quietly talking to himself with his head in his hands, his eyes were still frantic, so you tried your best to be careful

"Dazai?" You called, and he heard you, his shaking calmed after that

"relax, just breathe. Everything's okay."

He couldn't have done more. He wanted to talk, he really did, but there was a lot going through his mind.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, just with each other

Finally, he spoke up

"Y/n?"

"Yes Dazai?"

" I wanna go home."

The walk to his apartment was quieter, and a bit slower too, but when he opened the front door, you didn't expect for him to pull you inside too, let alone into a hug

"Thank you." He whispered, you almost didn't hear him

"Please don't. It was nothing Dazai, really." You whisper back, you can feel the anxiousness coming off of him

"Can you stay the night?" He asks, pulling back a bit to look you in the eyes. He's pleading with you, almost desperate, but also hopeful.

"Sure." You say back, a small smile on your face. You want him to know you're okay too.

He doesn't scare you. He realizes this now.

His lips find yours quickly, in a kiss that he didn't intend of leading to more, but he can't get enough of you and you don't want him to leave

That night, he goes to bed with a new reason, a reason to live

a reason to love you

#dazai fluff #yandere dazai #dazai imagines #dazai headcanons #dazai smut #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazai osamu #bsd dazai #dazai x reader #bungou stray dogs #osamu dazai #osamu dazai x reader