#it only posts when i head back to home n then

[watchmegetobsessed]

SOFT LAUNCH

A/N: luckily i actually wrote this concept for once lol

WORD COUNT: 2k

SUMMARY: You officially soft launch your relationship.

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Your usual barely changed when your relationship with Harry moved from a friendship to a romantic relationship. Well, at least your public usual. 

Because in the privacy of your home or when around you it’s strictly the people you trust, a lot changed. The kisses, the touches, the looks, it’s obvious just how hard you fell in love with each other and your friends often tease the two of you for being great actors for hiding all of these the moment you step out into the public. Very early into your relationship the two of you agreed to keep it as private as possible, so the world didn’t see a single thing of how you eased from being friends into becoming a couple. 

Spotting you out and about together wasn’t a new thing, you’d been friends for a while before you finally took everything down another road, there were plenty of pictures of the two of you grabbing lunch or coffee, hanging out with friends or even attending events. The moment you were spotted for the first time rumors started spreading that you might be an item, but with time they died down and back then, they weren’t true. But what people didn’t see was the shift that happened behind all those simply friendly pictures, how you both fell for each other and your love blossomed steadily and undeniably behind the scenes while everyone else started to accept that you are nothing more than good friends. 

There were photos, still, but what the tabloids didn’t see was the kiss you shared the moment you were behind closed doors. 

It’s been over ten months and you’re definitely over that first phase where all you can see is the pink clouds, no one around you is questioning if this is just a fling, it’s quite clear you are planning your future together. 

There is a downside of keeping your relationship in the shadows however, a kind of freedom is taken away that’s given for everyone else. Date nights have been restricted to your or Harry’s place, if you wanted to go out somewhere you always needed extra people around you so it wouldn’t look romantic. You haven’t been able to go on a vacation, just the two of you, because it would draw suspicion, so it’s been always with others, friends and family. You can’t set your favorite photo of him as your lockscreen, because fans are always quick to spot him in the tiniest details. 

It’s not that you want to post about him day and night, that’s not your style, never was, you like to keep things private, it might be selfishness or consciousness, doesn’t matter. But some days it would be nice to hold his hand as you walk down the street, share a reassuring kiss as you wait in line at the coffee shop or share a photo to your Instagram that features him and only him. 

So it’s been lingering in the back of your head, the thought of being just the tiniest bit more public, allowing yourself to enjoy your love outside of the comfort of your home. 

This is what your mind is racing about as you watch Harry move around the room. The warm Italian sun is peeking through the curtains, calling your name for another wonderful day, exploring Rome. The white, rippled sheets are snaked around your body comfortably, the other half of the bed is still warm from his body. You’re currently residing in a villa that’s hidden enough from curious eyes to let you be yourself even in the backyard, not just inside. 

You mindlessly scroll through your photos from yesterday while Harry is showering and when he appears with a towel wrapped around his hips, hair still damp, water drops running down his chest as he is scratching his jawline and you already know what his question will be. He stops at the end of the bed and opens his mouth, but you’re quicker.

“Do you think I should shave it?” you ask, imitating his voice by lowering yours. He gives you a cheeky look.

“Well, should I?”

“Told you, I love you both ways.”

“Okay, but you surely have a preference,” he pushes.

Sighing, you sink deeper into the pillow, keeping eye contact with him. 

“The stache is… always more than welcomed.”

He chuckles and then walks back in. When he emerges a minute later he is dressed and his facial hair is still the same. 

“Up, up! We have a lot to see today!” He reaches under the covers and easily finds your leg, wrapping his hand around your ankle he tugs on you gently, to which you just grunt at him disapprovingly. 

“Just five more minutes!”

“Come on, don’t you want to explore more?”

“Yeah, but I also want to sleep more.”

“Think of all the pasta and pizza we could be eating right now…” He barely even finishes, you’re already jumping out of bed, sprinting towards the bathroom. Harry just chuckles.

A couple of hours later your little group is grazing the streets of Rome again. You haven’t planned anything major for today, just exploring and having a relaxing time. To be honest, your feet are thankful for a slower day, you feel like you’ve walked around the world these past couple of days. 

Sometime after lunch, your group breaks up. Some want to go souvenir shopping, others want to go back to the villa while you and Harry plan to check out a hidden little park you read about online. So now it’s just the two of you strolling down the streets and as you listen to Harry talk, all you can think about is how your hands are hanging by your sides, sometimes even brush against each other, but you can’t hold his. 

When you find a great spot with amazing view of the city you instantly want to take a picture together, one where Harry is hugging you from behind, the panoramic view of the city in the background, you can already see the picture in your mind and you also think of a place in your home where it would look amazing framed. 

But you know you can’t take a photo like that, you can sense how a few girls recognized the two of you, now they are a few feet away, pretending like they are just casually taking videos, but you know they are recording you and Harry, so you can’t risk it. 

Instead, you both just take pictures of each other, staying as friendly as possible. Your phone is still in your hand when the girls come up to Harry at last, starting a chit chat with him and asking for photos that you end up taking of them of course. They thank his time politely and the two of you move on. 

When you’re lying in bed at the end of the day you’re scrolling through your gallery, smiling to yourself at some of the candid pictures you’ve snapped of Harry today. These are your favorite, when he is just being himself and you catch a glimpse of his true essence, keeping it forever in that frame. 

Then you find a photo you took probably accidentally when the girls approached you earlier. You must have snapped it when you were putting away your phone, it features Harry standing on the cobblestone, but only his feet and his tattooed arm is shown, his skin is a warm tanned color from being out in the Sun so much lately, his tattoos look so cool, you always loved the edge they give him. It’s also such a candid picture and for some reason you just love it so much, it’s exactly the kind of photo you’d post on your Instagram story. 

The door to the bedroom opens and Harry walks in with two bottles of water in his hands, he places one to your nightstand before he joins you in bed, opening his. 

“Why are you staring at a photo of my… arm?” he asks with a chuckle, when he sees what you have open on your screen. 

“You have a nice arm,” you grin up at him. “I just… like this photo,” you add with a shrug. 

Harry hums, but doesn’t really get stuck on the topic. He turns his attention to his own phone, sneaking one arm under your head, pulling you closer to cuddle him. But you’re still stuck on the photo and all the feelings and thoughts you’ve been struggling with. 

“H?” you finally lift your head to look at him. 

“Yes baby?”

“Have you ever thought of… being a bit more public? About us?”

He locks his phone and puts it aside to give you his undivided attention. He never fails to make you feel like his number one priority.

“I have, yeah.”

“And what do you think if we just… went for it? What if we just stopped hiding.”

“Is that what you want?”

“I just… I would love to act like a couple more, not just when we’re alone, behind closed doors. I’m not saying we should make out on the street, but… Holding hands, a few tiny kisses, these would be nice.”

Harry stays silent and you grow nervous that he might see it all entirely differently. You know it better than anyone else that Harry values his privacy highly, however he is not the most private public figure either, that’s also fact. 

His gaze finds yours and slowly, you notice a tiny smile hiding in the corners of his mouth. 

“Whatever you feel comfortable with, I’m okay with that as well.”

“Really?” You let out a relieved breath as you sit up in surprise. He chuckles.

“Of course. I just wanted to protect you. And I will still be doing that, but if you feel like you’re okay with being a couple for the rest of the world as well, then let’s do that.”

At first you pout at him, touched at how calm and supportive he is about the whole thing, then you just throw yourself at him, kissing him stupid. 

“So then can I soft launch you?” you ask against his lips. 

“What?” he laughs, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Soft launch. I want to post this picture,” you say holding up your phone again, showing him the photo from earlier, “on my Instagram story. Your face is not shown, but everyone will know it’s you. That’s a soft launch, posting a suspicious but not straight forward picture of your partner.”

“Okay, Miss Urban Dictionary,” he laughs, his hand cupping the back of your head to bring you down for another kiss. 

Cuddling to his side you open Instagram and then put the line ‘LOVE-ly day in Rome’ between his tattoos so it’s not quite what you notice at first, but it definitely catches your attention if you look at the photo for a few more seconds. 

“How do you like it?” you ask, showing him your phone.

“The best soft launch of history,” he teases you before you finally post it. 

Then you watch what happens together. Though you don’t have as many followers as Harry does, a lot of his fans engage with your social media profiles as well, hoping to get some content from you as well. Just a few minutes later the photo starts spreading across the internet of course, it reaches Twitter, Tiktok and other platforms, the reactions are mixed and pretty much all over the place, some aren’t the nicest, but Harry is quick to remind you just how much he loves you. 

When you both put your phones away, shutting the rest of the world out, you’re lying in bed, facing each other, your hands laced together between the two of you. 

“Now it’s out there,” you whisper.

“Softly,” he jokes and you just roll your eyes at him, smiling. “Is hard launch a thing as well?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s that like?”

“Well, it has to feature your pretty face, preferably in a romantic setting.”

“Will we also be doing that?”

“Hmm… maybe.”

“Okay,” he smiles warmly. “But soft or hard, I will always love you.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

How did it end?

Summary: A flashback to the night that changed your lives forever.

Pairing: past Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 2.4k

Rating: T

Warnings: angst (so much angst), flashbacks, some really hurtful words, cursing, crying, pregnancy tests, Joel being a dick, Calvin being the best supportive brother

A/N: somehow I feel in my mind like this should have been worse, but I am sure you all do not feel like that at all so I'm sorry lol

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part three of invisible string

Even before the outbreak you dealt with your anxiety or with big life decisions the same way.

You were stress cleaning. 

After walking out from Joel you made your way into the town centre, picking up your kids and then got back home where your brother Calvin was already trying to cook something but you mutually made the decision that you were gonna cook while he bathed the kids. 

You both did not want him to burn the house down.

He wanted to ask you how it went, having run into Maria on his way home from the Patrol meeting, who had told her that you had been at the clinic to see Joel. 

But this wasn’t the time or the place. 

It ended up being a nice evening all things considered. 

You had dinner, played some boardgames, read a good night stories to your kids and watched them sleep in their little beds until the nervous energy in your body left you walking back downstairs.

Once the house got quiet after the kids and you brother were asleep (he had an early morning with his first big day on Patrol the next day) you were alone with your thoughts. 

And your thoughts were loud, and demanded to be heard. 

So you went into the kitchen, took a look at all the cleaning supplies that were still stocked under the kitchen sink and got to work. 

You started with the top of the kitchen cabinets, standing on the counter as you scrubbed what felt like centuries of dust off of them until you were satisfied and moved to inside the cabinets. 

What a picture it would be if one of your new neighbours caught the crazy lady next door deep cleaning the kitchen at 2 am during the literal apocalypse.

Cleaning usually had the power to make the thoughts inside your head shut up. 

But as you emptied the cabinets so you could clean them inside, your mind drifted to the last time you had tried to deal with whatever was going on in your life by extensively deep cleaning every surface around you. 

The Outbreak might have been an excuse for many people to let things like cleaning the place where they lived become unimportant. 

Which deep down it was of course.

Why have a clean kitchen when just down the street, behind the fences and walls the so called new government had pulled up, there were people and what once were people dying or fighting (or eating) each other?

But you always lived by the mindset of clean home, clean mind. 

And what you desperately needed right now was a clean mind. 

Two ten year old positive pregnancy tests you took this morning after feeling off for the last couple of weeks and missing you period were enough reason to freak out. 

But you couldn’t freak out. 

Joel would do that for you, you were sure. 

That was, if he ever decided to come home to you again after being on a run with Tess for the last four days. 

He hadn’t even told you or kissed you goodbye this time. 

You had woken up to a note on the kitchen table telling you that he’d be gone on a run with Tess and he didn’t know how long.

Something about your husband had changed in the last few months. 

It changed ever since Tommy left and Tess was his only influence outside of you. Not that you had much influence on anything he did nowadays. 

It wasn’t like he was the most attentive men to begin with. 

But you fell for him. 

You fell for the complicated, traumatised and closed off man who to this day was the most handsome man you had ever met. 

And deep down you knew he fell for you, mumbling his confessions of love into your skin when he thought you were asleep. 

It was the way he looked at you. 

The way he brought home a new book to read whenever he went out of the QZ. 

The way he made you forget about the fucked up word outside of the walls you made your home whenever he gave you his full attention. 

He wouldn’t have put a ring on your finger years earlier as you laid in his arms, asking you to be his until the day you both died, if he did not love you, would he?

You loved him, you loved him even when he seemed to make it his personal goal to make you hate him. 

He used to be home every night in the beginning. 

He used to love to spend time with you and you with him. Staying up just talking for hours if he wasn’t making love to you. 

Because even when he was fucking you, it felt different. More… intense. More passionate.  

He used to smile at you. 

By now you couldn’t remember the last time he smiled at you now. 

And by the time you had practically polished the whole shitty apartment you and Joel lived in it was dark outside and he still wasn’t home. 

In hopes he would be home and it would lift his mood you had made dinner that now sat cold on the stove.

It was after 11pm and you were tired, having been in the bathroom brushing your teeth when you heard the door unlock and open. 

A nervous flutter in your stomach made the dinner you had earlier almost come up but you took a deep breath, looking at yourself in the small mirror over the sink. 

You were wearing one of Joel’s old worn flannels, his familiar scent in your nose. 

What was the worst that could happen?

It was not like you could just turn back time?

You were pregnant and he just would have to deal with it. 

Right?

You would never forget the way his eyes hardened once you said the words

„I am pregnant.“

He had been in a relatively good mood when you joined him in the small kitchen, having already taken his shoes and coat off, his hair damp from the rain outside. 

It made you reconsider telling him for a tiny moment, wanting to just enjoy this with him. But maybe he would not react like you thought he would? Maybe he would be happy?

You wanted to ask a million question about how it went but you were too nervous, having instead kissed his cheek with a whispered „I miss you“ and then offered to warm up some food for him. 

He had put his hand on your waist, his fingers brushing over your stomach as he went into the bathroom, his lips against your temple telling you that he would just take a quick shower. 

It was after he ate, the table cleaned that you told him. 

Sitting across from him at the tiny shitty table you had, your hands flat on the surface, the silence after you told him the news sickening.

His whole face had changed, expression hard, by the time he opened his mouth to speak. 

„Is it mine?“ He asked and you just blinked at him, speechless, your head falling back as if he had slapped you, before you answered. 

„What do you mean? Who else would it be? We’re married,“ you said and he scoffed. 

„Doesn’t mean you don’t open your legs for anyone else while I’m gone,“ he sneered and you flinched at the accusation and the tone he used. 

Sucking your bottom lip in you looked at your hands, still on the table, nodding your head slowly. 

„Good to know what you think of me after all these years,“ you whispered, still trying to process his words. 

„What did you think would happen? That I’ll be happy? Newsflash darlin’, this isn’t one of your dumb romance novels you keep reading,“ he said, before he brought his fist down on the table, making you jump. He got up from where he was sitting, walking over to the cabinet that held all the liquor he scavenged, opening the one bottle of original Jack Daniel’s and taking a long sip. 

„You gonna get rid of it,“ he said and you looked at him. 

„Excuse me?“ You asked. 

„Don’t want no kids of mine in this fucked up world. And especially not with you,“ he said and you felt slapped again. One blow after the next coming from him. You crossed your arms in front of your stomach protectively. 

You had imagined his reaction would be bad, but this wasn’t bad. This was destroying you.

„So that’s it, you don’t want a kid, and I have to just comply?“

„That’s exactly how it is, sweetheart,“ he grinned darkly at you, shaking his head and leaning against the wall and you desperately tried to find the tiniest part of the person you had fallen in love with as you looked at him. 

But there was nothing left. 

Maybe you just had been too blind to see it until now.

„I thought you loved me,“ you whispered, tears in your eyes. 

„How can someone love you? You thought because I put a ring on your finger everything would be okay? We’d be a happy little family and live in this shitty apartment in this shitty QZ while the world around us is fucking dying? How did you think this would go?“ He asked. 

„You made it sound like I planned this. Do you think I like this? Do you think I like being pregnant by a man who even though treated me like the fucking dirt beneath his shoes for the last months, was still the man I thought I would spend the rest of my life with?“ 

„Then get rid of it and we can get back to it,“ he said and you scoffed.

„You really think things are gonna get back to how they were after you said all that?“ You asked. 

He shrugged. 

„Where would you go? You have no family. No friends. All you have is me,“ he said. 

„And you’re so different? Who do you have? Tommy left because…“

„Do not talk about my brother,“ he threatened and glared at you. 

You shook your head, taking a deep breath. 

He was drunk. 

This was not going anywhere. 

This would never go anywhere.

„Things are not going to go back. I can find someone better than you on every corner,“ he said and you could not stop the sob that shook your body and you were pretty sure you could hear your heart breaking. 

„I don’t love you. I never did,“ he said and the tears you had tried to hold in finally fell. 

„Get rid of this, before I take care of it,“ he said, and a chill ran down your spine at his tone. 

„And then get the fuck out of my life.“

You were in the last touches of finishing cleaning the kitchen when you heard footsteps coming down the stairs. 

You hadn’t even noticed the tears until Calvin pulled against his chest, his hand running soothingly up and down your back. 

„You wanna talk about it?“ He asked and you shook your head. 

„Not yet. Not ever if I’m honest,“ you mumbled and he chuckled. 

„Need to talk to him though,“ you said and leaned back, turning around to turn on the stove to heat up some water and make some tea for the both of you. Looking at the clock hanging on the wall you noticed that it was just before 5 am. 

„Don’t need to do anything,“ he said and opened the fridge, getting the lunch he had prepared the day before for his day out and grabbing some stuff to make himself a sandwich. 

„I can’t ignore him forever. As much as I would like to. He’s…. He’s here and he won’t go anywhere. Neither will we. So we have to…. Co-exist somehow.“

You both get to your tasks before you both sat down at the table, you with two mugs of tea, one for him, him with two sandwiches, one which he pushed towards you. 

„You still love him,“ your brother said after a while and you sighed, looking up at him. 

„Yeah. But it doesn’t matter. I don’t think I’l ever be able to forgive him for everything that happened,“ you smiled sadly. 

„Well,“ your brother said before he got up and put his plate in the sink.

„Then you should talk to him and tell him that so you can both move on with your lives.“

You followed him towards the front of the house where he put his shoes on and checked if he had everything in his little backpack for this first patrol. 

„What if he wants to be in their lives?“ You asked, nodding upstairs to where both your children were still sleeping. 

„Do you think he wants to? He made himself pretty clear from what you’ve told me,“ Calvin said. 

„I don’t know. It’s been a long time and he seemed…. He seemed really sorry? I just….“ You took a deep breath, shaking your head.

„Nope. I am not gonna spend any more time thinking about Joel Miller. I’m gonna go upstairs and take a two hour nap and then I’m gonna go and explore our new home while my children are learning stuff in an actual school,“ you said. 

„There you go!“ Calvin grinned.

„Be safe today!“ You said, grinning back and hugged him quickly. 

„You too,“ he smiled, before he opened the door, your face falling as you saw Joel stand on the porch, his hand held up in a fist as if he was about to knock. 

„I’m here to pick you up for patrol? Tommy’s gotta stay home today,“ Joel said as he looked between you and your brother. 

„Well that is gonna be fun,“ Calvin said, winking at you, before he stepped out and pulled the door shut behind him, giving Joel no chance to try to say anything more if he wanted to.

You watched them through the window next to the door as they walked down the porch and then down the street until they were out of sight. 

Letting your shoulders fall while you exhaled with a sigh you shook your head before you made your way upstairs. 

This was gonna be a long day. 

[januaryrabbit]

seventeen with a tall s/o who flusters them!! (๑>◡<๑)

pairing: svt x gn!reader

word count: 1.7k

warnings: mild cursing because i can’t be normal

other disclaimers/notes: author teasing/poking fun at svt LOL, barely proof read because i am sleepy and its 2am

a/n: hi everyone, I'M FINALLY BACK WITH ANOTHER POST lmao~ hope you all enjoy and THANK YOU MY TALL 😈 ANON HANNIE STAN FOR REQUESTING!! <3 i have more things in the works that i want to post soon, some svt, ateez and nct dream~ pls stay tuned, but for now enjoy!!!

✩‧₊˚seungcheol: SULK!!!!!!!!!!y!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! he will still try to protect you He Does Not Care. every time you get flirty with him he just starts pouting like “why are you treating me like this im a grown man…” kinda thing. he will literally try to reach things for you even though he can’t like he’s actively trying to beat you to the punch constantly LMAO!!!! he back hugs you a lot, and you just stand there awkwardly like “pls let me hug you, arent you uncomfortable with your face against my back???” and hes like “No im perfectly fine like this, i just want to give my s/o a hug thanks.” and hes like SO serious. it is actually is kinda uncomfy for his neck tho so after a while he gives in and lets you hug him LOL, but he;s not happy about it >___> (he is!)

✩‧₊˚jeonghan: this man lies for fun………..he messes with people like it’s his JOB…………so when his tall s/o flusters him he tries his BEST to just try to do it back. HOWEVER unbeknownst to you, jeonghan his having a fucking existential crisis over this in his mind. every time you tease him, it sends him into a spiral, questioning his entire god damn life. jeonghan literally lays down in bed one day after hanging out with you and he’s like “this feeling…………what is it……………………my face……..why is it WARM……………” he will literally google (in incognito mode. can’t have the bros seeing this after all) “what does it mean when you feel shy-embarrassed-butterflies in your stomach” because he this feeling is FOREIGN to him!!!!! once he realizes that this is what it means to be flustered he’s just like “oh my god. who have i BECOME!!!!!!!!!!!” and then his eyes widen. “am i the babygirl??????”

✩‧₊˚joshua: i feel like if it’s applicable to the situation, joshua is going to do everything in his power to try to repeat the gesture back to you to fluster you back. i swear to god joshua makes your relationship the Flustering Olympics. he will try to outdo you at any turn. one time you ruffled his hair and he was like You know what. and then he reached up to ruffle YOUR hair!!!! you kiss his cheek, he’ll reach back up to give you one too. he refuses to be the only one who’s constantly feeling shy and mushy - it’s gross and not fair. 

 ✩‧₊˚jun: he is STRUGGLING…..like. i feel like he’s oblivious to your teasing at first, like why are they always reaching to get stuff for me….what’s up with all the headpats??? do they think I’M ACTUALLY A CAT?????? i feel like jun would just straight up ask you that unprompted. like “y/n we need to talk, why do you keep petting me and pinching my cheeks, do you think im a real cat we need to get you checked out grandma.” and youre literally like WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT LIKE ACTUALLY, I JUST THINK YOU[RE CUTE AND SMALL………..anyway he gets real embarrassed after you say that and just accepts the babygirl title that has been thrust upon him

✩‧₊˚hoshi: he is the babygirl of seventeen so he is absolutely RELISHING in this. he will let you do whatever you want with him and he even plays into it too like tbh i think hoshi likes being taken care of even though hes part of hyung line and the performance leader :3 bro is giggling every time you lean down to pinch his cheeks or use his head as an arm rest lmao. this is his world and you’re just in it !!! always asks you to take pics of him when you;re out doing things together, and always gives you picture credit in his captions lol. is the type to drunk text you asking you to pick him up and drive him home from drinking with the boys, and is super clingy to you as you both say your goodbyes to everyone. yeah if you treat him as such, this guy will become a domestic baby girl for you LMFAO

✩‧₊˚wonwoo: quietly flustered at all times. this guy unironically does NOT know how to fcking react when you tease him like this….he’s seriously the type to be like “y/n stop this is seriously bad for my heart wtf” like one time you leaned down and kissed his cheek and he just froze. he was convinced that for a min he was Actually Not Breathing. he’s the type who’s always like ahhh why are they so cute… whenever you tease him…he’s literally so down bad for you!!! btw every time you ruffle his hair or make it known in some way that he’s smaller than you he will without fail crinkle his nose in embarrassment and shyness lol

✩‧₊˚woozi: angry cat vibes from this man. i have a feeling you two would have a tom/jerry type relationship where woozi WILL NOT tolerate you patting his head, bending down to his eye level, and ruffling his hair. he is a grown man. he might need your help to reach some groceries, but YOU’RE NOT GOING TO TALK ABOUT IT and HE WOULD HAVE GOTTEN IT OFF THE SHELF IF HE COULD. i feel like woozi may be one of the only members who would have to ask you to tone it down maybe and not tease him as much LOL. of course he appreciates you and likes affection, but i just think woozi would be like -___- i can take care of myself y/n -__- i can also take care of U y/n -___- let me take care of us -____-

✩‧₊˚minghao: a warmhearted man who just genuinely appreciates the gestures you display for him. sometimes will ask you to reach things for him first just because he knows you’ll do it and it just makes him feel cared for. doesn’t really get flustered per se, but i think he his heart would melt every time you show him any kind of affection :) i think he’s the type to appreciate his partner taking the initiative an equal amount in the relationship, so i think he’d be pretty happy w you doting on him a bit lol. he doesn;t realize your intention is to fluster him at all and you end up never telling him because the look of love he has when you pinch his cheeks is worth anything

✩‧₊˚dk: he’s literally svt #1 dude kisser like HE’S usually the one causing people to blush,,,,,......if someone behaved that way toward him, i think he would die because i don;t think dk 100% understands how easily he catches people off guard with his physical affection!!! so like when it happens to him he’s just like OH MY GOD IS THIS HOW WOOZI FELT WHEN I KISSED HIM………….i feel like if you bent down to kiss his cheek suddenly he would become quiet af and suddenly can’t look you in the eyes LMAO like YOU KILLED HIM!! HE’S DEAD!!! btw he reacts this way every single time 

✩‧₊˚mingyu: mingyu is puzzled. he wasn’t aware that these emotions were ones he would ever experience. he recalls seungkwan scolding him in the past for purposely doing things to fluster girls (i.e. flexing his muscles to people at the gym, flashing his smiles at baristas when theyre getting coffee, etc), and he never understood why seungkwan always told him to stop behaving like that until he started dating you. being constantly doted on like his was literally killing him…he;s never been on the receiving end of playful teasing like this before, and he;s literally so shy that he doesn’t know what to do with himself!!

✩‧₊˚seungkwan: he is crisis….he wakes up everyday looking in the mirror and is like “you will NOT get flustered today. you WILL be normal, and unphased, even if they kiss your forehead.” and everyday he fails himself. every time you hand him a mug from the top shelf, every time you slink an arm around him, every back hug you give him, he can’t help how warm his face gets - it’s actually kind of annoying how much of an affect you have him. one time he was thinking about the sudden cheek kiss you gave him before work while pouring himself a glass of water and it literally began to overflow. seungkwan remembers that day as a particular sickening reaction to your tomfoolery….

✩‧₊˚vernon: lmao i feel like the first time you like give vernon a headpat in his mind he’s just like “oh shit why am i getting nervous, i didn;t know i was into this lmao” dfjsdklfjsd. like every time you fluster him hes just pleasantly surprised and goes along with it because he kinda likes being the one taken care of. i’d say that he gets flustered most of the time you try to get a reaction out of him, but sometimes when his tolerance is particularly high, he’s able to flirt back to fluster you too. i think the longer you two have been together, the easier it is to throw back that behavior at you LOL. i feel like you both are always teasing each other and laughing all the time ~___~

✩‧₊˚dino: a BABY GIRL WHO WON’T ADMIT IT!!! bro talks a big talk to his friends about how he isn’t a kid anymore and how he’s a grown man now and yayayayayyayaya. but the moment you headpat him, he’s reduced to a blushy mess. i think if you reached down to boop his nose, he would literally Die on Impact. like. he really thinks he’s normal and the more dominant one in the relationship but lean down to make eye contact with him or rest your head on top of his and he will fucking pass away. after the initial resistance, i think hes someone else who would relish in being babygirl, but only in private!!!! there are things his hyungs do NOT need to know…………………..

[moriwood]

Speakeasy Serenade — s.jy

sim jaeyun x male reader fluff 1k words

As the token gay guy in your circle of friends, going out drinking just means your friends talking about their boyfriends and you pouring out advice. Tonight you meet Jake, who seems to find you prettier than anyone he has met before.

includes: supportive friends (from ive) :D, fluffy college gaes, art guy meets math guy warning: n/a

You casually take a panoramic video for the mandatory social media post, swiftly scrolling through the tables of students your age to the blinding neon signage flaunting the swanky bar you’re currently lounging at. The discordant yet inviting noise of the people chattering and the unrecognizable generic house music coax you to saunter into the beat of the crowd, to melt into its blur and comfort, to lose your inhibitions along your fading sobriety.

The girls are once again enumerating their recent trysts, Wonyoung’s sophomore athlete, Yujin’s substitute instructor, and another childhood friend of Gaeul somehow suddenly coming back. They seek your counsel, begging for romantic advice as if you have any experience under your belt. You don’t, and all you have for reference is your BLs and fan fiction.

“Let’s talk about you now, got anything going on?” Gaeul drawls towards you with a mischievous glint in her eyes, cheek leaning on the back of her hand.

“You should be the one with the most stories here,” Yujin jests, roughly grabbing both of your hands. “You know, Wonyoung’s boyfriend says there’s a gay guy in their team,” she slurs, “she can make him set you two up."

You chortle, “I’m not interested, I’m already satisfied with seeing you all find your guys.”

They teasingly coo at you, patting your head and such. Wonyoung sternly looks at you though, muttering, “but we’d also be happy with you finding your man, okay?” 

You respond with a weak smile. As you inhale the temporary comfort from Wonyoung, your eyes meet a man a couple tables over, in his early 20s you presume, probably a senior from your university. For a second, the man seems to be caught off-guard, yet he quickly recovers with a blinding smile that could only compare to the sweltering of your summer breaks. 

The warmth of the bar could only get so much warmer for a usually cold man like you.

Your palms feel clammy as you fail to immediately break off eye contact, and now the man’s walking towards your friends’ table. The man is handsome, really handsome, and about the same height as you, maybe a little taller. Some less alcohol could have probably given you a wider vocabulary to describe the scene. He blends so well with everyone else, yet he just stands out. 

“Hey, have we met before?” he boldly asks, the conversations on your table abruptly stopping. All eyes are now on the man, and you hear your friends murmuring behind you. His gaze burns you.

“I don’t think our friend here remembers,” Gaeul butts in, noticing you struggling to find your words. Yujin cackles, gripping on Wonyoung’s thigh.

“No, I don’t think so,” you stammer, finding a familiar seal stamped on the guy’s varsity jacket. “Although it’d be safe to assume you’re also from…”

The man deeply chuckles, head tilting back as he holds onto your shoulder, veins running along his arm, Adam's apple bobbing… Damn. “You don’t know how happy I am to find out we go to the same university,” he chimes. “Ladies,” he glances at your friends, “would it be alright for me to borrow your friend?”

“You can even take him home!” Yujin cheers. “We’ll be here waiting for you,” Wonyoung looks at the man up and down, then whispers, “or maybe not.”

“Oh, uh, sorry, they tend to get rowdy when they get tipsy-”

You lose your lousy apology as he pulls you away into the parking lot, where the bar’s house music is instead replaced by the live music from the open lounge across the alley. The new vibe sobers you up, the silence being filled by the strumming of an acoustic guitar and the late night hustle and bustle. Your gut says that the man was about to do something foxy but then you see the man clumsily sit on a curb.

“Uh, I’m not kidnapping you or anything,” he awkwardly clarifies out of nowhere.

You furrow your brows in amusement, “I didn’t think of that-”

“And I forgot my name! Jake. Hi, I’m Jake,” he swiftly puts out his hand, withdraws it, then puts it back out like a malfunctioning robot.

You couldn’t stop yourself from giving a hearty laugh as you told him your name. “Nice to meet you, Jake,” you chuckle, giving him an uncoordinated handshake. As opposed to his confident and suave demeanor from earlier, he now gives off a more tame, and in fact, quite nervous, aura.

“So, you’ve got a habit of leaving your friends and pulling strangers out of bars?” you tease, sitting down on the curb beside him. A gust of night wind hits the both of you, tousling Jake’s hair to a fluffy mess. He looks like a puppy, you thought.

Jake grins, running a hand through his hair. “Not usually, uh, no. I just… I saw you and knew I had to take the chance. My friends won’t notice I’m gone.” He earnestly looks at you, and flutters bubble deep in your chest. “So, uh… What’s your major?”

“Creative writing,” you reply, “it’s a small community. And you?”

“Math,” he hesitantly replies, almost ashamed. “Kinda boring for you, huh?”

“Hey, there’s beauty in math too,” you contemplate, searching across the theorems and concepts you’ve heard in your mandatory math classes the past few years. The conversation flows as the two of you share the intricacies of your majors, as if you were already plotting a shared future together in your careers.

“Like the golden ratio,” you remember, eyes on Jake’s finger mindlessly drawing circles on the back of your hand. “Turns out there’s a mathematical reason why I find some artworks more pleasing than others.”

Jake’s eyes light up. “And I’m looking at a breathtaking work of art right now.”

You find yourself at a loss for words, looking back at Jake. “That was smooth.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t stop myself,” Jake smiles, tilting his head like an apologetic puppy. You just want to pat his head so bad. “Gotta use all my pick up lines now before I regret it.”

“You’ve got a lot more opportunities to use them,” you reply, belatedly realizing what your response implies. “If you wanna go out with me sometime,” you add. You don’t want to say goodbye yet, and Jake seemed to feel the same thing.

Jake eagerly nods as he fishes his phone out his pocket. “I’d like that. In the daytime, on campus, with no alcohol?”

Your heart skips a beat. “I’d like that too.”

author’s note: hi hello to myself, imma pretend i didn’t go away for six months 😚😚 here’s a nothingburger of a fic as a comeback HEHRTHDHGFHA 🎉 shitty thumbnail i made exposes when i started writing this 💀 also realized i always got my peeps in a college age setting, rly need to broaden my horizons for d next fic wuhnuweuwhheuw

— moriwood.

[atzaurora]

질투-jealousy

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

choose me over them

member: Yunho

pairing: fem!idol!reader x idol!yunho

type: imagine (smut)

warnings: 18+/smut/suggestive content, MDNI!!!

a/n: sorry for not posting a lot, but for all the Yunho stans, here you go 🤭 feel free to leave feedback and requests!

here's my masterlist!

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Sign, talk, laugh. That's all you did the whole day basically. you guys had a huge fan sign and a lot of people came. all in all it was fun but you hated how they all looked at him.

Yunho has always been attractive in your eyes, but you never expected to actually catch feelings. well here you were, crushing over your own group member and having to look at him interact with all of those girls.

I mean you couldn't blame them, he was gorgeous so obviously they'd all fangirl over him. yet you could still not help yourself but feel jealous.

you tried your best continuing to sign the albums and chat with all the fans that came. every few seconds you found yourself glancing over at him, "having" to check what was going on.

he saw you. your glances burning holes into his skin. he knew those were looks of jealousy in your eyes. he didn't wanna be too bold tho. so he just sat there, continuing the convos, giving his best to ignore your behaviour.

---

"thank you all so much for coming! 8 makes one team! goodbye Atiny!" you all shouted into the microphone, walking off the stage, waving as you walked.

everyone was exhausted yet extremely thankful for the sweet interactions. "good job everyone" Seonghwa said, looking around happily. "let's go home guys and get some good rest" Hongjoong suggested, groaning as he lets himself fall back on the couch.

you nod "please, I'm tired" you mumble, avoiding Yunho's eye contact when he looks at you.

you can hear him chuckle to himself. "we need to talk." he whispers as he walks past you, outside of the building towards the car.

you look after him, grabbing your bags and walking after the members. what did Yunho want now?

---

the drive was awfully quiet, no one talked, Yeosang even fell asleep. but we were all tired so the silence was understandable.

we walk into our dorms, San practically carrying Yeosang inside, getting him straight to bed. "come on" Yunho nudges my arm, offering me a soft smile. you smile back, following him to his room.

"so..." you close the door, watching him as he sits on his bed "what did you wanna talk about?"

he chuckles, shaking his head "jealousy is not a good look on your pretty face, sweetheart"

you tilt your head, your eyebrows frowning "what's that supposed to mean?"

"oh come on, I could basically feel your eyes on me. don't try to act all innocent now. you were upset about all these girls wanting me." he says, his expression becoming a little more serious.

could you even talk myself out of this now? probably not. so you just say what you actually feel..."well I'm not thrilled about everyone staring at you, you know"

"I know, but why? you know I don't care about all those girls. I already know who i want." he stands up, walking closer

"what? Yunho, you're too tired to think, go to bed please." you walk a few steps back, shaking your head. he was out of it, no way he liked you back. out of all those girls. pretty girls.

"fuck no. I mean it, Y/n. I want you. no one else. only you" he whispers, sneaking his hand around your neck, moving your hair back.

whatever. you cup his cheeks. pulling him in. god it felt so right, his lips so soft.

the kisses started getting more passionate, more heated. he slipped his tongue in your mouth, tasting me. you groan as you feel him walk you backwards till the back of your knees hit the bed.

he lays you down slowly, his gentle hands moving over your thighs. "you're so beautiful." he whispers as you feel him hook his fingers into the waistband of my jeans, unbuttoning them.

Yunho's fingers slide under the fabric of your panties, you gasp, arching your back in anticipation.

he smirks against your skin before trailing hot kisses along your collarbone. he starts to lift up your top, revealing your stomach, ribs, bra...until your completely exposed.

he unclips your bra in a swift motion, tossing it were your jeans and top already laid.

he starts kissing you again, down your sternum, and finally reaching the hardened nipple of your breast. you moan loudly as he circles it with his tongue before taking it into his mouth, suckling gently.

your mind goes blank from pleasure as he alternates between teasing and pleasuring you.

suddenly, he pulls away, causing you to whimper in protest. "god you're so eager" he laughs, smiling softly yet tempting. "i wanna feel you, baby" he whispers, close to your ear. "i want you so bad Yunho." you whimper, feeling his fingers grazing over your wet hole.

he stops after a bit, making you groan at the lack of contact, but he then starts undressing himself, taking off his shirt, jeans and then sliding his boxers down, revealing his impressively large erection.

without hesitation, he positions himself at your entrance "baby are you sure?" he asks for consent. once you nod eagerly he kisses you softly and pushes inside, filling you completely.

the sensation sends shockwaves through your entire being, it feels incredible. he was big, you were pretty sure you could feel him in your stomach but it felt good.

he starts moving, bucking his hips forward, pushing more and more inside you, hitting your good spot. "mhm~ right there, Yuyu. please don't stop" you moan, digging your fingers into his back.

he starts kissing your face, first your cheek then your jaw, down your neck and up again. the kisses were soft and gentle while his thrusts were firm and hard but very pleasurable.

"you're doing so well, love" he mumbles in between kisses. you clench around him, making him groan and bite down on your neck.

"are you close?" he asks, looking down at you, a mark now forming where he bit you. "y-yes~" you whimper, biting down on your bottom lip, clenching around his cock again.

it only takes another few thrusts till you see stars, while coming all over his dick. he kisses you softly as you cum, murmuring small words of appreciation and praises.

Yunho rides out your high and after a few more seconds you feel him fill you up, the liquid leaking out of you. "good job, darling" he kisses you again.

---

he pulls out, hugging you tightly and covering you with his blanket "sweetie, you did amazing, I'm gonna be right back to cuddle you to sleep" he smiles at you, so damn adorable.

you nod "it also felt amazing. don't take too long, i wanna cuddle you"

he walks out of the room, coming back after a minute, with your pjs and himself being dressed as well. "there you go" he hands you your clothes

"thanks, baby" you put everything on as he starts talking again "so um, i checked and the others are all sleeping so i think no one heard." he says. "good, i wouldn't wanna take care of that" you chuckle and he smiles as you open your arms for him.

moving under the blanket with you, he holds you tightly, kissing your forehead "get some rest now, my darling" he says quietly, stroking your hair.

you nod, closing your eyes, both of you whispering an 'i love you' before drifting off.

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[wtfsteveharrington]

c l o s e t o y o u | carmen berzatto x reader

we've got so much history baby

description: set months after your breakup, you and carmen navigate what it means to be separated. you're trying to move on but waves always return to the ocean.

warnings: kinda angsty but also hurt/comfort. mutual pining even tho you're both trying to pretend it isn't there. miscommunication. kinda mentions of cheating if you squint but not really. no one has cheated but what to call this vibe irdk so! also mentions of using the bathroom if that bothers you!! it's quick!

smut warnings: oral/fingering reader receiving, spanking, dirty talk, hints of dom!carmy, unprotected sex but backshots for 'safety', sexting, semi public sex, lots of hickies/bruises talk bc carmy's a lil shit, multiple mentions of masturbation for both, reader has a drunk bar make out phase post breakup. reader is afab but no major descriptors used.

word count: almost 9.2k. the longest thing i've written so far!

a/n: dare i say this might be my favorite thing i've written possibly. aiming to make this a three part series but possibly could go longer.... i hope you enjoy <3

maybe you and i were meant to be / maybe i'm crazy

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✮‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Carmen’s eyes are trained on you from the second your front door opens. His hands stalled halfway through taking off his jacket, only one shoe clattering across your entryway. 

“Where’ve you been tonight?” 

Which you have no choice but to shoot him a warning glance in response. It was late, you didn’t have the energy for a fight and that’s the complete opposite reason of why you texted him to come over. “I was on a date, Carmen.” 

He physically deflated at your answer. “Oh.”

You can’t meet his eye, can’t risk seeing his reaction. Would he be upset? Indifferent? It’s hard to decide which would be worse.

When you had broken up a few months ago the roles were clear - A case of ‘right person, wrong time’. He was busy, so endlessly busy. Working late into the night and heading in randomly during the morning or afternoon if he was needed. Which he could easily decide he was.

For as long as you could remember Carmen always took Tuesdays off to spend with you and get life in order. That way he had Monday to help the restaurant recover from the weekend and could trust them to handle what was, usually, an easier day. It was a tradition you took seriously and the two of you regularly made plans together every single Tuesday. Date nights, day trips, a mixture of adventures. It didn't matter what you were doing together so long as you had Tuesday to look forward to and help get you through the week.

Yet things started picking up. More celebrity dining requests, more magazine and tv interviews, more, more, more.

And it wasn’t that you misunderstood how important the restaurant was. Far from it. There were many nights where Carmen would come home a ball of anxiety because it took an hour longer than he anticipated and he knew it wasn’t fair to you. There would be a mess of apologies as he barreled in the door, bracing himself for a fight or to see your disappointed face. All of which you happily soothed by repeating constant mantras - The restaurant was his baby; you weren’t upset; take a deep breath; we’re okay. 

Then eventually you stopped saying you weren’t upset, stopped saying you two were okay. Eventually you stopped waiting up for him at all. At first Carmen would shower and climb into bed, confused if he should attempt to hold you or not. Your sleeping (Fine, sometimes you faked being asleep too) frame with your back turned to him. The blankets pulled tight around your body acting like a shield. 

Finally he just started sleeping on the couch. 

So yeah, the fall apart came quick. It was an avalanche neither of you could control nor did either of you want. There was still love between the two of you - But again it’s the right person, wrong time. 

You avoided each other for the following weeks. Carmen threw himself even more into work and you took a week of PTO to go visit one of your friends. He wondered if you were safe, you wondered why none of the people in the bar tasted the way he did. Your friend encouraged you with every sloppy make out conquest but it always ended there. You wanted to get Carmen out of your mind but weren’t ready for him to not be the last person who fully touched you. 

It didn’t work but does it ever?

Carmen watched your Insta far more than he should have. Risking way too many glances down at his phone during his free time to see if there were any updates about how you were doing. As if you’d post photos with long captions that mimicked a therapy session but he didn’t know where else to go. Sydney would report back what your story shows no matter how much Carm insisted he didn’t care. 

Because he didn’t, okay? He was fine. He knew it was for the best. Right? 

And then you posted a photo of yourself in a low cut top laughing in a bookstore. He zoomed in to see what titles you had in your arms as if they were clues and his eyes definitely didn’t linger on the swell of your cleavage. He didn’t think about how many nights he took for granted watching as your back arched up under him and you begged for more. He didn’t think about the way you’d crawl into bed at night and his mind would instantly rid itself of anything but you. He didn’t jack off to memories of you in the shower every morning because thinking about someone else, watching porn of other people, it didn’t feel wrong. No, that wasn’t the case at all. 

You, on the other hand, turned on Google alerts for anything relating to The Bear or Carmen “Carmy” Berzatto. Most of it was just good Yelp! ratings or fluff pieces from the local papers. He wasn’t one for posting on social media, in fact you weren’t sure he used it at all but you still posted like he was, but sometimes you’d find yourself scrolling through Sydney’s feed to see if she was giving you any crumbs. Sometimes, if you were really desperate, you’d find yourself in Richie’s feed even. It was pathetic but you can’t help it. 

One late night you came across an Instagram story post Sydney had up. Carmen leaning against a pinball machine at some gaming bar downtown. His hair was pushed back, eyes crinkled up with laughter. He looked at ease, peaceful. You wondered if anyone there felt the same… Was someone whispering to their friends and trying to build the encouragement up to go talk to him? Would he respond? 

Right, it wasn’t your place to care anymore. Yet you still cried yourself to sleep and yearned for when things felt so much easier. 

Yeah, the breakup wasn’t exactly going well. 

A few weeks ago you came across Carmen at the grocery store of all places. Both of you had gotten so used to doing the shopping Tuesday mornings and, logically, you were both comfortable going to the location just like you had been weekly for months. Your breath caught in your throat and God he looked better than you remembered. The first thing out of his mouth was, “Great sale on gouda this week.” And the only thing your brain could conjure up was, “Well that’s gouda.”

You both stayed silent for a moment before bursting out in laughter. 

Laughter turned to getting lunch around the corner. 

Lunch turned into you straddling Carmen’s waist in the car while parked in the very back corner of the parking lot and riding him until your eyes watered and you couldn’t focus long enough to keep a rhythm. He wrapped his arms, such strong arms, around your waist and fucked up into you for all that he was worth. Trying to prove himself in whatever capacity you allowed. 

If he couldn’t love you like he wanted, he could at least fuck you better than anyone else would.

Once you two broke the seal of seeing each other it was hard to stop. There was almost a forbidden aspect to your relationship now that caused a small thrill to run down your spine every time you saw him late at night. You were pretty sure no one knew you started… Seeing each other again and you were both content keeping it a secret. 

So that’s how you ended up here. Standing across from him at 11 o’clock at night on a random Wednesday. You try not to wonder if he left ‘early’ the second you reached out, instead convincing yourself that it just so happened to work out he was ready to go within minutes of you sending your ‘My place tonight?’ text during this horrific blind date your co-worker set up. 

Jonathan, 6’1, finance major turned CPA for his family’s company. He was… Fine. Just fine. You left on good terms in case you wanted to call on him for back up one lonely night. The problem was no one else was Carmen no matter how hard you tried to look for him in the people that passed by.

And there he stood across from you with hair falling into his face and his eyes looking up at you like you’re crafted from Heaven. A skirt, thin tinted tights, a shirt that exposed just enough skin but not too much. The soft shimmer across your eyelids and glossy lips from the lip balm you’ve been continuously applying since you knew he was on the way. The last time he saw you like this was when you were fighting because Carmen accidentally showed up 15 minutes past when you were supposed to leave for a birthday party at your friend’s house and that night ended with you locking him out of the bedroom while he had to pretend he couldn’t hear you crying in the next room. He really didn’t mean to be late. Sometimes the nights just got taken away from him. 

Carmen hated that you were dressed up for someone else but he pretends you just threw this on for him.

Your arms cross your chest, totally not attempting to push up your breasts, and you let out a sigh while you stare at Carmen. “This has to be the last time.” His face is stoic, a perfect poker face. The last time? Break up or not he couldn’t imagine there being a last time he saw you. Half the time he forgets, still referring to you as his partner while brushing it off and refusing to correct himself. Then there’s times where he comes home to his empty apartment and realizes you weren’t there to light the long forgotten candles on the coffee table or open up the windows to air the place out. 

He closes the space between the two of you and stares at your face. Searching for answers he’s too scared to ask for. Your resolve is breaking, cracking under the weight of having him so close. Beautiful eyes staring at you, the way he smells like the cologne you bought for your last anniversary and clean laundry. If you weren’t so drunk on the sight of him you would have put it together that Carmen kept clean clothes at the Bear to make sure he could change before he came to see you. 

You’re both silent for a moment before there’s two hands wrapping around either side of your neck and Carmen’s dragging you two together for a kiss. God, he couldn’t stand the idea of someone else kissing you. Would they even do it right? Do they know the way you moan when he licks into your mouth or the way you always grab ahold of his wrists when he cups your face? Do they know the way you forget to breathe sometimes when you’re lost in it? He’d have to pull back in order to give you a second to gasp in a rush of air. Does whoever you were with tonight know any of that? 

You pull away from Carmen with a broken out moan, silva connecting your mouths and the faint taste of cigarettes on your tongue from him. Clamping your hands on his shoulders you just faintly push the two of you apart, trying desperately to collect your thoughts. Carmen crying during the break up, sobbing in your bed, living on autopilot for weeks, the way he kisses you like he’s scared it’s the last time anymore because it very well just might be. Everything coming back to you in flashes as he stands before you once again. 

“I called you here for a reason, Carm.” His eyebrow is cocked, eyes flickering down to the bulge in his jeans that started growing the second he kissed you. “Uh - Yeah? Isn’t that what… I thought that’s what we were doing?” Carmen’s leaning in again, letting his lips connect to your neck. Warm kisses being pressed in a path up to just below your ear. “No uh, oh, remember how you let me keep the cast iron?” He hums in response, teeth nipping at your earlobe while broad hands start grabbing at your waist. “Yeah, uh huh, the cast iron skillet.” Fuck the stupid cast iron. He’s much more concerned with hooking fingers in the waistband of your skirt, attempting to pull it down while you’re fighting to stay focused. 

“Well my friends came over the other night and oh Jesus.” He’s licking a strip up your neck now, only half focused on your story. “Carm, please, they were helping me clean up and someone left it soaking in hot water overnight.” That’s finally got him freezing in place, his aroused little sounds quickly turning into a groan of annoyance. “Fuck. That ruined-… I mean, the seasoning has to be ruined. Assuming it rusted?” You nod helpless, fingers dragging along his chest while Carmen stares over your shoulder.

His eye twitches involuntarily. 

There’s a deep sigh coming from his body as he steps around you, finally kicking off his long forgotten second shoe before walking further into the apartment to head towards the kitchen. 

And listen, it wasn’t that you were necessarily concerned so much with the pan. Sure the two of you had purchased it together during the first few weeks of talking. Carmen cooked breakfast with it every Tuesday morning and showed you how to care for this damn pan. It was the closest you two came to owning a pet just… In the form of a nine inch cast iron skillet. You were more curious if he would care. A simple way of testing the waters to see if he just cared about getting laid or still cared about you. The answer should have been obvious but you still had to know.

You follow behind him and wince at the stream of expletives that easily fall from his tongue at the sight of the pan in the sink. It wasn’t horrible but wasn’t ideal. “Y’know, crazy thing is I’m pretty sure I can guess who did this. They kept trying to convince me cast iron wasn’t any different from a standard pan no matter how many times I tried convincing them that just wasn’t the case.” He’s grumbling to himself while crouching down to fish out supplies from under the sink, easily navigating your apartment from memory. The two of you had bounced between your places and talked about moving in together once his lease was up. Going as far as touring a few locations but the conversation was long forgotten once the tensions started building. 

As much as Carmen claims he didn’t see it coming, he resigned his lease almost two weeks before the break up officially happened. 

You hop up onto the counter next to the sink and watch as Carmen gets to work restoring your poor pan. “Think It’’s gonna make it though? I can't believe this is how it might end for the poor thing. All because I wanted to make your chicken piccata.” A few of his recipes had stuck with you and sometimes you find yourself making them when you’re missing him extra at night. 

“Nah, it’ll be fine. Just some surface damage s’all.” You watch as the muscles in Carmen’s arm move with the scrubbing motion, your lips itching to kiss over every exposed tattoo. Snap out of it! This is just sex between two consenting adults trying to let off some steam. That’s all. You’re both just comfortable and it would take way too much effort for someone random like Jonathan to learn what you like. 

Carmen catches you staring at him, not that you were being subtle about it, and feels heat blooming in his chest. He grabs one of your kitchen towels and gives the skillet a good pat down before sitting it upside down to dry off. It’s not perfect, not yet at least, but he’s pretty sure he’ll explode if it takes any longer to finally get his hands on you. 

“You look pretty tonight.” He’s coming to stand between your knees, reaching up to you with the hem of your skirt as you hum out a small “Thank you.” It seems like every time you see him lately you forget just how blue his eyes are. So easy to get lost in them especially from this close. Your hands come up to gently trace the features of his face. Just the ghost of a touch but Carmen’s soaking up the affection. He tilts his head in order to press a kiss to your palm. 

His hands are dragging up your thighs, feeling the material of your tights under his touch. “Know how much you hate wearing these.” Your heartbeat is picking up so much it’s making you jittery, hands wrapping around the edge of the countertop to grip it as hard as you can. Keeping yourself steady. “Help me take ‘em off?” You arch your hips up off the counter as an invitation for Carmen. He’s wasting no time grabbing ahold of the waistband and dragging them down your body, groaning to himself as inch by inch your skin gets exposed to him. 

Neither of you miss the way you press your thighs together once they’re freed, hips twitching in anticipation. The tights are getting tossed across your apartment and left to be tomorrow’s problem. Carmen falls to his knees in front of you, letting them dig into the harsh tile of your kitchen while in pursuit of making his mark on you. He’s grabbing ahold of your ankles, bringing one of your legs over his shoulder while the other is brought up to his lips. 

Your eyes fall closed as Carmen starts trailing a string of delicate kisses along the length of your calf. His lips ghosting across your knee until he reaches the fleshy part of your thigh. While your hands finally escape the countertop and find their way laced into Carmen’s hair, he wraps his lips down against your thigh to start sucking a small bruise into your skin. “Carmy,” You hiss out, “What if I see Jonathan again? How am I gonna explain these?” But you’re not pulling his head away, instead doing quite the opposite by keeping his head in place. 

Carmen practically growls against your skin, a low and guttural sound coming from the man. His grip on you tights while he mumbles against you, “Fuck Jonathan.” You scrub your fingers against his scalp as Carmen finds another patch of skin on the opposite thigh to begin sucking a bruise into. His head ducking lower and lower under your skirt, the material finally getting you to pull your hands away from him.

Against all better judgment your thighs fall more open as he works his way down your thighs. There’s a series of small moans and whimpers coming out of you with no control as he reaches the top of your thigh, his nose dragging along the cloth covering your core. “D’you wear these for him? Or did you put them on knowing you’d end up texting me.” It’s impossible to answer when you feel his tongue drag along you, your hips rocking up towards his mouth. He’s bringing his hands up under your skirt now too and grabbing handfuls of where your thighs meet your hips to hold you down in place. 

“They’re purple, aren’t they?” A color Carmen had long ago decided he liked best on you. Something about the way the color compliments your skin… In all honesty, you were pretty sure he had purchased the exact pair you were wearing. You started the night with no intention of your date getting anywhere near your bed but instead being under the frame of the man who was exactly where you wanted him. 

He guides you to scoot you closer towards the edge of the counter, making sure you’re comfortable before mouthing over you once again. Hot, open mouth kisses being pressed almost exactly where you need them. One of his hands comes around your frame to grab a handful of the fleshy part of your ass while the other hooks a finger into your underwear, pulling the material to the side to expose you. 

There’s cool air being blown against your overheated body and your hands fly back to clutch at his back, his neck, the hair that’s exposed from under your skirt. Whatever inch of him you can find is being clung to like a lifeboat. He’s kissing the skin where your thigh meets your center, lips ghosting along the outer side of your folds. It only takes a few more pathetic whimpers before he finally takes pity on you and you feel his tongue go flat at the base of your hole, dragging up long and slow all the way to your clit. 

He groans into your core and the vibrations make you start to lose your mind. “Fuck. Fuck!” Carmen’s got your clit between his lips now, bobbing his head just slightly while he goes right to sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves. If you didn’t want to be teased then he’d give you everything you wanted. One of his hands comes up under his chin now, a finger pressing into your tight entrance as his tongue works to lap at your clit, your folds, even dipping into you whenever his finger pulls all the way out.

A second finger slides into you while his attention focuses back to making out with your clit. You can’t keep track of the way he alternates between kissing and licking at you while his fingers push in as deep as he can get them. “So good, Baby.” Baby. It comes out of you by force of habit and it makes him twitch in his boxes. If you weren’t so drunk on him you probably would have started overthinking but he’s making sure your focus is on nothing else but his mouth for now. Carmen’s chin is slick with everything you’re giving him as he eats you out as if he’s a dying man and this is his last source of solace in the world.

“C’mon Honey.” He’s cooing against you, fingers crooked just how he knows you like it. There’s sloppy licks being delivered to your clit as his fingers pump in and out. His hand finally leaves it’s grip on your ass to apply a gentle pressure to the top of your mound, pressing down against the flesh to add yet another sensation. “Can feel how tight you’re getting. You wanna come for me so bad, don’t you? Be good for me.” 

Your hands fist around Carmen’s hair, hips rocking up against him and it doesn’t take long for an orgasm to wash over your body. You seize up at the feeling, thighs clamping around Carmen’s head as he licks you through it. He’s only giving you a moment to recover when you feel his fingers slide out of your sensitive body and he can’t help but go back to licking out the mess you’ve made.

“Gonna fuckin’ kill me, Carmen.”

He’s smirking against you but taking the hint. Your thighs shaking as he pulls back from under your skirt, taking a moment to appreciate the handiwork that was the bruises covering your thighs while you take a moment to recover. The way your pussy looks so pretty covered in the mixture of your arousal and his spit. Carmen can’t help himself but to swirl his thumb around your clit, your hips jolting up as you reach out to grab ahold of his wrist. “Need a minute please.” 

Carmen nods and stands up, wasting no time making work of unbuckling his belt. You collect your thoughts well enough to start unbuttoning his jeans for him, letting your fingers linger on his jean clad hardened length. “You, uh -” You won’t meet his eye, opting instead to start pulling his pants down his toned thighs. “You still okay not using a condom?” A roundabout way of saying ‘I’m clean, are you?’. Carmen nods as if it’s the most insane question in the world. Even if he’s not with you anymore, it’s still only you for him for as long as he can see coming. “No one but you.”

You can’t meet his eye, a wave of guilt washing over you concerning your earlier date with Jonanthan that quickly gets pushed away when Carmy grabs ahold of your jaw and brings you in for a haphazard kiss. Mindless, heavenly kissing. The two of you getting lost in the way your tongues know just how to navigate one another while your hand slides into his boxes and begins lazily 

“Gotta fuck you or I’m gonna cum on your hand like a fuckin’ teenager.” You giggle into his mouth but slide yourself off the counter nonetheless. Giving him one more tender kiss before turning around to bend yourself over the counter. It’s not the most gracious process but you’re tugging your shirt over your head on the way down, pitching it somewhere else to deal with later. 

He’s looking at every inch of you. Underwear still pulled to the side, the way the lace of your bra looks against your back. Memorizing every detail he possibly can just in case you wise up and stop letting him come over to defile you like this at night. 

Carmen is dragging the head of his cock through your folds, tapping it against your clit while you whine and rut back against him. The weight of his jeans and belt resting heavy against his ankles and keeping him grounded enough to not spill his load before he even makes it inside of you. You weren’t used to taking him all the time anymore, a thought Carmen can’t dwell on, so he goes inch by inch and gives you time to adjust to the girth of him. He was thicker than anyone you’d been with before and every random hookup together lately reminds you of the first time you felt him stretch you out. 

It burns in the best way possible and he’s so tender while you get adjusted. Waiting until you start fucking yourself against his length to take that as his sign you were finally ready for him. Carmen still starts slow, a teasing pace of pulling himself nearly all the way out before sinking right back in. “Pussy’s like heaven.” It makes you oddly proud to hear him call that out. To know you still have an affect on him after all this time.

“Think about fuckin’ you all the time.” He’s picking up speed now, “Think about how good you feel stretched around me. Such a good slut for me, aren’t you? Bending over and practically begging for it.” His words, once again, make your head spin. It was a common theme with Carmen. Your fingers lace in your own hair, desperate to grab ahold of something. “Always wanting you to fuck me, Carm. Dream about how good you make me feel.” Like you two were meant to fit together perfectly. 

There’s a lewd clapping noise coming from the way your ass smacks against his frame with each deep thrust. Eventually your arms give out, torso falling flat against the shockingly still cool countertop while Carmen fucks into you for all he’s worth. A firm slap is being delivered to your ass that causes you to yelp out, rolling your hips back against him at the same time as an act of encouragement. 

His mind is taken up with how good you feel. You’re perfectly stretched around him and leaking out around his base. So wet, so beautiful, so perfect. There’s a hand sliding up your back until it’s fisting around your hair, gently tugging at it and the new sensation has these pornstar worthy moans escaping you. Your loud and needy brain is completely empty as Carmen destroys you the way he knows how. 

“D’you think about me fucking you while you were sitting across from some asshole all night? Poor little pussy almost got fucked by someone who doesn’t know how to treat it.” His words are so casually spoken with just the right amount of bite that it’s causing your brain to melt. Jonathan didn’t stand a chance of getting within two feet of your panties, just another mindless date in your series of attempted ways to ‘get over Carmen’ which clearly wasn’t going well. He bottoms out in you, every inch of his length pressed as firmly as he can into your core. It’s so much, so full and he’s got you pinned in place. Unable to do anything but be used by him, just how you both know you love to be. “Or did you go just to make me jealous? Put on your slutty little panties and went to dinner knowing you’d text me to come fuck you tonight.” 

He’s grinding his hips into you on the impossible quest to get even deeper. It’s possessive, claiming, and you’d probably even be a little annoyed by his behavior if you were in a better state of mind. For now you’re bent over the counter with bruises blooming all over your thighs and enjoying an odd jealous streak coming from someone who, technically, has no right to be jealous. It’s making you feel dizzy and your heart throb and your pussy clenching around him. “You gonna keep talking or you gonna fuck me, Carm? ‘Cause if not I’ll call him to finish the job.” 

You liked riling him up. 

Another sharp smack is being dealt to your ass when Carmen starts to pick the pace back up. His hands are tight on your hips and his pace is brutal. There’s grunts coming from behind you that are making your head spin and if you were more coherent you’d be a bit more embarrassed about the drool sliding from the corner of your mouth as your boyfrie-….. Well, as Carmen takes care of you. He’s admiring the bloom of his handprint on your skin, brushing his hand along it before pressing firmly down to help soothe the buzzing sting of pain. 

He wasn’t fucking you as often, didn’t have you nearly as well trained anymore. These bi-weekly meetings are not doing nearly enough for your body. He used to be able to fuck you right through an orgasm and you’d keep going. So used to him working your oversensitive clit to his liking. Now you whine while grabbing his wrist and whimper out pleas for him to give you a few minutes. He hates not knowing your body as well as he used to even if he still knows you pretty damn well.

So when he feels you getting closer, he’s taking note. Keeping his pace exactly the same and letting his hand crash down against the tender flesh of your ass again. “You gonna give me another? C’mon, Honey. Can feel how bad you need it.” And you do. God you need every orgasm you’re lucky enough to get from him. 

Your hips buck and twitch and you let out a series of uncontrolled moans as your orgasm starts to wash over your body. If Carmen wasn’t between your legs then your thighs would have snapped shut while your toes curled and your heart started beating faster. You could practically hear it beating in your own ears. “S’good, so good. Thank you, thank you. Shit, thank you.” A mess but you couldn’t judge yourself. 

Carmen’s pulling out when he’s close after just a few more strokes, frantically jerking off his length to keep the sensation going. You’re rolling your hips back and riding out the waves of your own orgasm, glancing back over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of Camren with his head tossed back and brows knitted together in concentration. “Come on me, Baby. Wanna feel every drip on my skin. Maybe I’ll let you take a picture of it dripping down all the pretty bruises you gave me.” 

That’s all it takes for him to come undone. Warm spurts of cum landing along your back, your thighs, some of it dripping down your folds. The feeling is pulling wanton moans from your mouth that send Carmen into orbit. God, he doesn’t want to come back down to Earth. Collecting his breath and trying to keep himself upright while the aftershocks of his orgasm wrack through his body. How was he supposed to stay away from you when it felt like this? Especially when you just kept calling him baby.

He stopped cumming inside of you since the breakup. It made sense, kinda. But you hated it. Felt like a waste even though you wouldn’t overstep and ask for him to go back to finishing inside of you. He would, by the way. Without a second thought he’d bury himself in until he couldn’t go any further and fuck his cum into you as deep as possible. 

You feel a finger swiping up some of his cum off your backside and soon enough it’s pressed to your lips. Without a second thought you take the digit into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it while licking him clean. He wants some of it inside of you one way or another. A subtle way of still putting his claim on you.

The two of you take a moment to recover after Carmen pops his finger out of your mouth. His hands are running a circuit up and down the side of your thighs and torso, still enjoying the view of your body relaxed against the counter in front of him. The tile was starting to become painful as your stomach bent over it but you couldn’t bring yourself to move just yet. You didn’t fully trust your legs to support your weight without the counter for support. 

Carmen’s rustling around behind you now. Reaching down to pull up just his boxes but kick his jeans the rest of the way off finally. He’s not ready for the stimulation of such a heavy material against his sensitive skin yet. There’s a clattering from the sink area as he retrieves another towel to get wet for you and a cup to fill with water. Your eyes feel heavy. Mind’s at ease having Carmen around again, not that you’ll admit it, and your body feeling languid after being fucked so well. 

There’s a glass of water being sat in front of you. “Drink.” So you prop yourself up on your elbows and nurse small sips of the water while the cool rag gets to work wiping down your backside from the mess he made. His fingers ghost along the tender flesh of your ass where he was spanking, “Feeling alright?” You hum into the cup, giving him a small waggle of your behind to reassure any concerns he had. 

He gets you cleaned up in silence, letting the both of you enjoy the simple moment. Carmen always prided himself on taking care of you. There’s warm hands, still damp from cleaning you up, rubbing up the sides of your torso before wrapping around the tops of your shoulders. His hips rub along your backside and you just feel so warm, so safe like this. “We gotta get you to bed.”

You just sigh and scrub your hands over your face. A beat of silence passes while you collect your thoughts. “Carm, I don’t think I can stand up.” Your legs are still slightly shaking and your mind has yet to catch up with your body. 

Laughter’s coming from behind you as he delivers a playful swat to your ass. “C’mon I’ll get you there.” This feels so simple. You find yourself questioning why the two of you even broke up to begin with when the good moments were this good. Easy, content, safe. Would you ever be able to find this again? Would he? 

He’s grabbing ahold of your waist while pulling you back into his chest. Your head falls back against his shoulder and Carmen allows his lips to once again find your exposed neck. A series of gentle kisses being placed as his arms snake tighter around your body. “Still feeling okay?” You let out a content hum and allow yourself to be held by him. “Feel better than I have all week. Thank you, Carm.” You feel him smile against your skin as he places another delicate kiss. “Always.”

The two of you stay intertwined until Carmen starts to encourage the shuffle towards your bedroom. He makes sure you get cleaned up and ready for bed. Brings you one of your sleep shirts while you brush your teeth and tries to not overthink when you offer him a toothbrush of his own because you just so happened to have an extra. Gives you privacy when you complain about needing to pee and you find it odd there’s a tug at your chest when he ducked out of the room. Part of you hated being that couple who left the door open or used the restroom while the other showered, yadda yadda. It was a sign of comfort and the door being pulled shut behind Carmen was a sign that comfort was long gone. 

Not that you cared. Totally didn’t care at all. 

He’s going to just tuck you in at first until you’re clutching at his frame and pulling him into bed next to you. Carmen never could say no when it came to you, especially when he feels his back sinking into your soft bed and your warm body curling up along his side. He should go. Get home before it’s too late and try to get some sleep. He’s already planning on getting to work early to avoid having too much free time to think about tonight in detail. 

But his clothes feel so far away and the long day is starting to finally hit him. You can practically hear him thinking over his options and your breathing starts skipping as you feel him begin to pull away. 

“Carmen.” Your grip on his chest tightens and it pulls directly at his heart. Since this whole… Situation started he never stayed the night when your meetings would run this late. Always picking his clothes up out of piles on the floor and mumbling something about needing to get home to get stuff together from work. You never asked him to stay anyway. Neither of you knew if that would make an already weird and complicated situation even worse. 

But tonight was different. 

There were hints of a storm in the distance you start telling yourself. If you focused you could hear thunder, somewhere, out there and you just wanted Carmen safe for his sake. That’s all. So you pathetically cling to him and hope you don’t kick yourself out of embarrassment in the morning. It takes just a moment of him looking down at you to understand what you can’t say and he’s giving you a little nod in response. His arms wrap around your shoulders, leaning in to press a kiss to the top of your head. Kissing every inch of you had to be one of his greatest pleasures in life.

“Remind me to season that skillet in the morning.” 

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✮‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Carmen, shockingly, sleeps through the night. The warmth of your body next to him coupled with your excellent sleeping experience. A comfortable bed with good pillows, a white noise machine in the corner of your room (the ice maker in the fridge at Carmy’s would constantly go off so you got used to sleeping with background noise to cover it up), it was the best night of rest he’s had in months.

Your sheets smell like home. 

He’s slowly waking up now and his first thought is how much he misses the weight of your breast in his hand. Second thought is how much he needs to pee but damn your bed is comfortable. 

Carmen allows his body to wake up slowly. Stretching his arms out above his head and letting out a satisfied grunt at the feeling of his well rested muscles. Blinking his eyes awake just enough to take in the sight of all the trinkets and items that covered your space. There’s some things he notices that he knows for a fact he purchased you. Bottles of perfume, books you keep telling yourself you need to read, cups you constantly forget to bring back into the kitchen until you’re fully out of them.

Did you keep any of the pictures? Photo strips from Navy Pier and the holiday market at Wrigley Field. Everything from the disposable camera you brought along on road trips and vacations. The polaroids that once littered a cork board in your living room that the two of you added pictures to so often. If he looked around enough would he find them tucked away safely in a box or did you pitch them when you knew the two of you were through. 

Carmen still has one. You took most of them while you packed up your things from his place and refused to let him carry any of the boxes downstairs. So stubborn, so full of hurt pride. He just spent most of the day trying to stand out of your way but always available in case you finally admitted that you needed help. Maybe a small part of him hoped that as you packed up so many memories it would trigger a ‘What are we doing?’ reaction and you’d go running into his arms. 

You never did. 

But you did take one trip down to your car with an overstuffed Ikea bag over your shoulder and balancing a box on your hip. Carmen knew he didn’t have long, and it kind of felt like stealing, but he rushed over to the box you just started packing up and rifles through the photos as fast as he possibly could. It took a moment of digging before there it was. A polaroid photo someone took of the two of you on New Year’s Eve. You’re wearing some cheesy headband and he has those tacky sunglasses on that show off the incoming year on them. His arms are wrapped low around your waist as he stands behind you, one of your hands resting on top of his while the other is reaching up and back to cup his jaw. You’re both grinning and laughing in the photos and nothing bad has happened yet. 

He hears you shuffling back up the stairs so he’s quickly throwing the box back together after sliding the photo into his pocket and rushing back to stand in the kitchen. Acting like nothing was happening. You didn’t even look over at him so it wasn’t like he had to put up much of a show anway.

It’s still safely tucked into his wallet. 

The sound of the front door opening and hushed whispers are finally pulling him from his half asleep, reflective state. It looks like this day is getting started if he wants it to or not. He’s tilting his head to press it into the pillow underneath him, allowing one last deep inhale to remind himself exactly what your scent smells like before forcing his body to be pushed out of your bed.

Carmen turns the corner in just his boxer briefs and you’re not convinced you aren’t still dreaming because fuck he looks good. His hair’s a mess from the combination of you playing with it all night and him sleeping so well. One of his hands is scratching low on his hips while he takes in the sight of you in the kitchen. 

Maybe he shouldn’t be so comfortable walking around your apartment half dressed still but God is this relationship situation getting messier since the day since the two of you reconnected.

“Ordered some breakfast from Yolk. Figured you were hungry and I’m sure you have to run off this morning but I uh-…. I just wanted to make sure you were fed.” You nod to yourself. Giving him an out as you start popping open food boxes. There was just over an hour until you had to get to work too so there were multiple excuses possible for this morning to end as early as it needed to. 

In an odd, roundabout, time to head back to therapy kind of way it almost feels like you’re dating your ex. 

“Yeah.” He nods to himself and desperately wishes he had deodorant, cologne, fuck even Axe body spray. Something to make himself smell better or feel more presentable for you. “Richie actually tried installing fuckin’ bidets to the toilets last night. Kept on running his mouth about how prestigious they are and he, obviously, doesn’t know how to install bidets. So the bathrooms are a little-“ He waves his hands through the air.

“Shitty?” 

Second questionable pun you’ve made lately. Pull it together. 

There’s a breathy little laugh coming out, “Yeah, shitty.” Carmen’s peeking over your shoulder as you plate up breakfast, sneaking a piece of bacon from under your arm before pressing a kiss to the top of your ear. “Thank you for ordering this.” 

You nod and try to pretend you didn’t stop breathing having him so close to you under the soft morning light. 

He leaves $60 tucked under a vase on your dining table to cover breakfast. 

————

11:52 am

[DO NOT ANSWER]: Richie put his foot down and we’re stuck getting the bidets 

[DO NOT ANSWER]: If you’re wondering how my day is going 

12:17 pm

Shockingly my day is much less toilet related. I hope it’s going well. 

4:39 pm 

[DO NOT ANSWER]: I know so much about bathrooms now

————

You laugh a little too loud as the alert illuminates your phone. There’s a fond tugging at your heart as the ‘normal’ conversations fills your chat history instead of the short “My place tn” or “I still can’t find my jacket. You have to have it”. Maybe saving him as do not answer seemed too harsh but having his contact show up as a photo of you two cuddled up with the Chicago skyline in the background, an innocent and horrifically cheesy “Baby Boy 💙” contact name modeled after Richie saying you baby him too much one night. Every time it flashed across your screen and Richie saw he gave you guys an endless amount of shit. It became a constant bit that none of you got tired of at the time. 

You were trying to separate yourself from your past with him as much as possible at first but now those lines just keep getting more and more blurred. 

One of your coworkers grabs your attention away from your phone thus leaving Carmen’s message on read. He tries to pretend it doesn’t bother him as he gets to work prepping for tonight’s service. Who wants to talk about bathrooms with their… Fuck buddy? Ex? God that’s still so weird to say. 

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✮‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Your mind was haunted by thoughts of Carmen Berzatto all day. 

No matter how many busy tasks you assigned yourself he always seemed to creep back in. You’d look around for him when a joke landed well at work and the group you were with erupted into laughter. Could easily picture his head thrown back as he scrubs over his face in an attempt to muffle the sound. When you were standing alone your mind wandered off to the way he treated you last night. So claiming. Expertly working your body the way only he could after so much time of getting to know it. 

The bed feels so much 

You throw the blanket away from your frame and watch as it bundles up beside you. Is this crazy? It feels crazy. You shake out the nerves, fluffing up your shorts and primping yourself for the photo. It takes one, two, seven pictures to get just the right angle. An image of your thighs against the bedding and your oversized sleep shorts bunched up all the way down your legs. Taking a deep breath you steel your spine and pull up Carmen’s contact.

————

11:28 pm 

Headed to bed 

ONE IMAGE ATTACHED

11:29 pm 

[DO NOT ANSWER]: Fuck.

11:31 pm

Goodnight Carmen <3

2:12 am

[DO NOT ANSWER]: Can’t stop thinking about you 

ONE VIDEO ATTACHED

————

The sun is warm against your skin as it slowly wakes you up. There’s an air purifier rattling in the corner that acts half as white noise while you sleep, half to soak up the smells of Chicago. Sometimes when Carmen’s especially exhausted you have to bring out the big boy and ask your Google home to play sleep sounds to mask him snoring all night. You typically didn’t mind the sound, knowing it’s a sign of just how badly he needed a good night’s rest. 

You’re fishing your phone out of the comforter in a haste to click off the horrific sound of the alarm and your eyes are barely open when you see the alert. A preview image popping up and you can just barely a blurry image of - “Holy fuck!” 

Your free hand flies up to clamp over your mouth as a mix of gasps and ‘no fucking way’ come out of you with zero control. With shaking hands you open up the video, half tempted to pinch yourself with a video of Carmen fills your screen. His hand rubbing over the bulge in his boxers and there’s a mess of shaky breathing coming from behind the phone. You can’t get the volume turned all the way up fast enough and you’re terrified to miss a single sound. 

And there he is. 

Fishing his cock out of his boxers and stroking himself for you. Illuminated by the lamp on his bedside table and his hand over lubricated to mimic how wet you get for him. He’s a mess of filthy moans, bucking hips, are you dreaming? 

The combination of the sun beating in and the way this video is making your body go hot is too much. You’re overheating, kicking the blankets away from you while your hand goes into your shorts on instinct. Toying with your clit even though you don’t have much time to spare as you watch Carmen get off for you.

————

8:04 am

HEART REACTED TO A VIDEO

Mine tonight?

Fuck you sound so good

Wish I would have been there to clean you up

Say my name more next time please

How am I supposed to go to work now 

————

No response. You aren’t surprised, he’s typically busy in the morning. 

So you go along your day and let yourself enjoy the thought of Carmen coming back over tonight to take care of you. You had thought letting him back in was a risky move but things seemed fine so far. Settling into the new version of what normal was going to look like. Maybe things would end up being some version of alright after all. 

A chirp from your phone catches your attention and you’re instantly uninvested in whatever task was at hand. It might be a little pathetic how excited you were but that is besides the point. 

————

10:32 am 

[CARMEN]: Busy tonight

————

Busy tonight? Go fuck yourself Carmen! 

You waited all morning and THAT’S the response you get? Were the multiple texts too much? Did you come off too clingy? Sure he just stayed the night, was two times in one week where he drew the line? 

So you leave him on read and take away the heart from his video. Change his name back to DO NOT ANSWER and instantly feel the urge to get off tonight leaving your body. Replaced by a subtle anger that only he can bring out of you. 

The workday seems to go by so much quicker as you have this internal argument with yourself and mentally pick a battle with Carmen. Maybe you were silly to think things would… What? Go back to the way they were? No, of course not. 

Ugh!

Carmen who, by the way, truly was slammed. Got stuck hosting an event for an old family friend that he barely knew but was convinced it’d be good for business. He’s overwhelmed by work and anxious with his relationship with you. The breakup was horrific. One of the worst things he’s had to experience so far which certainly says a lot. At the very least - It made sense. This though? Sleeping together, fucking when you have shitty dates and he’s your second choice for the night, taking pictures of dumb things he sees during the day because it made him think of you but never actually sending them, it made zero sense.

If only there was something the two of you could do to figure this whole mess out. 

But alas.

You bring home a salad that’s far healthier than anything you’ve eaten all week accompanied by some fresh pressed green juice nonsense you lie to yourself and mentally say is delicious. The boy detox starts now. 

The shower you take that night must last an hour. Every inch of your body gets scrubbed, your face and hair both get a mixture of treatments and masks. You primp and polish yourself up and convince yourself that this is all for you and not so you look better than ever and Carmen will have to regret his stupid and shitty ‘Busy tonight’ text because you were also just like so, so busy and -

Fuck Carmen Berzatto. 

You decide you could go the rest of your life without hearing from him and be just fine. It was his loss. You’re funny, beautiful, and excellent in the bedroom. There’s thousands of people out there dreaming about finding someone like you!

This internal argument keeps going. And you know what’s annoying? The second you fling yourself into bed you realize he left his scent all over your sheets still. It hasn’t gone away - Cologne mixed with Carmen. And you 100% aren’t hunting out the scent nor are you hunting out a reason to stay annoyed with him. Not at all. So you get back out of bed and grab the fabric freshener to spray your sheets back down with, giving it a minute to dry before falling face first into the mattress with an annoyed huff. 

So yeah, fuck him. You hope you never hear from him again and toss your phone on the other side of the bed. Forcing your eyes shut and making your mind go blank because otherwise you’ll stew all night thus continuing this Carmen induced spiral. 

————

1:47 am

[DO NOT ANSWER]: Hey

————

Fuck.

[kawaiigladiatorwolf]

~fuck me harder~ R.R smut

Warnings: smut, fluff, rough sex, name calling (whore,slut,bitch, pretty girl, good girl, baby girl), After care, kind of hate fucking, dirty talking, praise kink, daddy kink, bondage.

summary: you disrespect roman while out to dinner because he hasn't gave u none in 2 weeks so he shows you what happens when you disrespect him.

if you have request i will take them but only wwe superstars i will post a list of wwe superstars i will be taking! with that being said i will not take requests like, R*pe, SA, Abuse, ECT, i hope you enjoy it this is my first oneshot/ book on here so ENJOY luv bugs!

Y/NS POV:

roman has been out with WWE of course being Undisputed universal champ, i have been horny for a couple of days using my toys, roman doesn't like it when i touch myself he HATES when i touch myself he says thats his job. Joe is rough when it comes to sex i love it but sometimes it could be a little too much but anything to get an orgasim out of me.

~TIME SKIP~

i look at roman across the table hes sitting with joshua and Jonathan the USOS his cousins, laughing and carrying on ive been trying to give him hints all night but he blows it off and laughs so i got an idea i text him saying "your really going to blow off my hints joe" he hates when i call him joe i see him look at me and turn his phone off i get mad "JOE!" i say out loud by accident everyone looks at me and he gets pissed so we go home, the car ride was so quiet.

we get in the house and he says "you think you can disrespect your tribal chief like that?" i shake my head "no baby im s-" before i can finish my sentence he has his hand over my throat i feel my thong form a damp spot i bite my lip and whimper "go upstairs strip and get in face down ass up you better be like that before i get up there" i run upstairs and obey his orders, i sway my ass side to side waiting for him. 10 minutes later i felt a strong slap on my ass causing me to yelp. i feel him push 2 fingers in, thursting them in me slowly, i whimper and push my ass back, he smacked my ass harder than the last causing me to moan "your so needy" *SMACK* "im gonna show you what happens when you" *SMACK* "DISRESPECT DADDY LIKE YOU DID" he strips and pushes in and pounds me "F-F-FUCK MHM!~"

he slams into me i screamed he groans "your so tight baby" i gasp and moan as he starts fucking me senseless the sound of moans and skin clapping can be heard echoing around the room he smacks my ass "god i can fuck you all night" i whine out "o-oh r-roman!!!" he smacks my ass again slamming himself into me pounding my insides owning ME! "THIS IS MY PUSSY YOU HEAR ME!" he groans and smacks my ass "WHO OWNS YOU SLUT!" he grunts "Y-YOU DADDY MHM MHMM!~" he grabs my arms and fucks me like there is no tomorrow.

"mhmm fuckkk please daddy im gonna cum" i gasp "aww you wanna cum on my cock hmm mhm fuck" he moans out grabbing my neck. "mhm uh daddy please!" he pulls out and slams into me causing me to scream "DADDY UH MHM FUCK" he slams him self into me getting deeper and deeper. "fuck fuck fuck OH MY GOD FUCK! IM SO CLOSE!!" i feel my orgasm lurk in the pit of my stomach, my body aching to cum moaning louder and louder. "mhm god y/n baby" he continues to pound me, "OH FUCK PLEASE! I LOVE YOU! UHH I LOVE YOU RO! I LOVE YOU!!" whining. i gasp finally cumming "YES YES YES YES!!" i gasp talking through my teeth "fuck baby" he cums in me.

I HOPE you enjoyed that! if you have request put it in the request box!!! i hope it isnt too short but love yall!

BTW listen to "EARNED IT" by the weekend while reading this

[w2soneshots]

Accident -KSI

Words: 0.7k+

Warnings: angst, skiing accident, hospitals, recovery.

Summary: when abroad skiing for a sidemen video you have an accident and everyone’s worried about you.

a/n: I love this request and I feel like JJ is such a cutie so he would definitely react like this💞. I hope you enjoy my loves!!😊🫶🏼

Liked by tobjizzle, taliamar and 521,870 others

y/username: how it started vs how it's going😭

-comments-

ksi: ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

freyanightingale: my poor girl🥺

y/nfanpage21: omfg what happened? Are you ok?

user31083649: isn't she filming for a sidemen vid?

-> user29736105: yea. I'm not sure if they'll post it now tho🤷‍♂️

"Shit! Babe, are you okay?!" JJ shouted, racing over to me. I could barely hear him. My ears were ringing and my head hurt. "y/n? y/n can you hear me? Answer me!" He scrambled as I began to come back into consciousness. "I'm ok." I croaked. My voice coming out much more quiet than I thought it would. "Fucking hell! You scared the shit out of me." I tried to sit up, a sharp pain spread through my leg. I hissed. JJ started to panic for a second time. "Don't move! What is it? Your leg?" I nodded. "Ok I'm gonna call an ambulance."

It felt a little bit like a blur after that. I was rushed to the nearby hospital where they completely checked me over. Almost an hour after we arrived the doctor came back with the results of their tests. "So, you have a concussion which is most likely from the impact of the fall and is the reason you blacked out. Your leg is severely bruised since that was what you landed on but nothing is broken. You are very lucky." She explained sweetly. A weight lifted from my shoulders. JJ let out a relived breath. "Thank you." I smiled. "You'll need to rest and take it easy for the next few weeks but you should be just fine."

We flew home the next day and I was treated like a complete princess. JJ cancelled everything in order to take care of me. I slept, watched reality tv, cuddled with our little dog and ate the food JJ brought to me, which mostly consisted of uber eats since I'm usually the cook. Yinka (JJ's mum) came round to bring me some home cooked food and to make sure that I was okay, which was really sweet. I got many texts from all of my friends along with the boys who were really concerned when they saw I'd had an accident.

I wasn't initially supposed to be going on the trip but Vik became Ill so they asked if I could step in last minute, since every time I go on there channel the video does really well. I agreed and we left for the airport the next day.

I spent the first day on the bad team with Simon and Harry which they both felt bad about but I'm really close with Simon since I've known him for so many years so I wasn't that bothered. I had to spend the night in a tiny room with them, me on the top bunk. Then JJ and Harry swapped so I ended up remaining on the bad team with Simon and JJ, I wasn't really mad though because I can't ski and I'd rather have the funny experience with JJ.

Then only one hour in I lost control and practically rolled off of a small snowy cliff. I landed in the snow after only falling about three metres but I was going full speed, doing something I wasn't familiar with. They asked if I wanted the video to be cancelled and I told them that was ridiculous. I fell on the last day and wasn't injured that badly plus the whole thing was caught on camera so it was great content.

"I'm seriously so glad you're ok. I was really worried for a second." JJ said quietly as he gently ran his hand through my hair. I yawned as we were about to go to sleep. "Could you imagine if I had died? I can see the headlines now, 'KSI's girlfriend dies while filming sidemen Sunday'" I played it out with my hands. He chuckled. "I love you. Good night." He kissed my forehead. I nuzzled closer into his shoulder. "I love you too." I whispered as I drifted off to sleep.

Liked by ksi, faithloisak and 410,732 others

y/username: thank you for your lovely messages but I'm ok, just realised I'm shit at skiing😘

-comments-

miniminter: committed to the content

-> y/username: a little too committed😂

taliamar: side note: you look stunning!

y/nfanpage21: I'm glad she's alive x

user71209374: the puppy🥹💕

[miley1442111]

i can fix him (no really i can)- c.berzatto

---------------------

---------------------

a/n: yes, i am a swifty.

summary: based off of i can fix him (no really i can) by taylor swift

pairings: carmen berzatto x fem! reader

warnings: carmen is an asshole, reader gets her revenge, sex tapes being sent around, revenge p!rn, smut, subcarmy (if you squint), 18+,

---------------------

The smoke cloud billows out his mouth

Like a freight train through a small town

The jokes that he told across the bar

Were revolting and far too loud

Carmen had a few bad habits, mainly smoking, a low eq, and a tendency to overshare when he got drunk. One of the new line chefs had come up to you in recent weeks, joking about how you sounded when you had sex. Carmen had shown him the video he promised he wouldn’t show anyone. Not just that, he’d sent the video into the staff group chat for everyone to see.

Asshole.

They shake their heads sayin', "God, help her"

When I tell 'em he's my man

But your good Lord doesn't need to lift a finger

I can fix him, no, really, I can

And only I can

“I feel bad for her,” Richie sighed as he brought the cigarette to his lips. “You’re a fucking jagoff.”

“I was drunk,” Carmen groaned. “It was a mistake!”

“She still talkin’ to you?” He asked. 

“‘Is she still talkin’ to me’? What kind of asshole question is that, yes, you dumbfuck,” He hit the back of Richie’s head, sending his cigarette flying. 

“Fucking asshole,” Richie mumbled under his breath as he walked back inside. 

The dopamine races through his brain

On a six-lane Texas highway

His hand so calloused from his pistol

Softly traces hearts on my face

And I could see it from a mile away

A perfect case for my certain skill set

He had a halo of the highest gradе

He just hadn't met me yеt

As Carmen drove home he thought about the reaction you’d give, whether you’d be mad, or if you’d break up with him or something even worse. 

He had no idea. 

He remebered what he'd done when you told him first.

---------------------

"Carm, what the fuck did you post on the Bear groupchat?" you questioned, humiliation and anger bubbling in your blood.

"Huh?" he asked.

"Carmen, fucking look at your phone!" You shouted. Carmen immediately fumbled for his phone, opening it and seeing the private thing he'd shared.

"Fuck," he groaned.

"Yeah, fuck indeed. You're barely in that video and you swore to me that you'd never show it to anyone!" You shouted.

"Baby, it was a mistake-"

"Fuck a mistake! A mistake is forgetting your keys, a mistake is not locking the backdoor of the restaurant up, this was no fucking mistake!" you screamed. "Take it down now."

Carmen was getting angry now, he felt controlled and he could feel the weight and consequences of his actions.

"Why? It's the only fucking thing you're good for."

---------------------

They shake their heads sayin', "God, help her"

When I tell 'em he's my man

But your good Lord doesn't need to lift a finger

I can fix him, no, really, I can

And only I can

---------------------

He opened the front door of your shared apartment and saw the light on in the bedroom. He dropped his bags, tired as he sauntered into the bedroom. There you were, a vision in a set of red lingerie, a set he’d bought you a few weeks back. His mouth watered when he heard your small whimpers as you worked the toy over your aching core. He immediately pulled off his shirt, and you didn’t even notice him. He lay beside you, grabbing a condom out of the drawer but you stopped him.

“You’re not touching me tonight,” you smirked. Carm’s face dropped. 

“Baby-” He whined. “Please, I’m so sorry-”

“I don’t wanna hear it,” your sentence was interrupted by a groan, the toy hitting a new spot that triggered your climax. 

“Please baby-”

“Beg for it then,” you smirked, coming down from your high. 

Good boy, that's right, come close

I'll show you Heaven if you'll be an angel, all night

Trust me, I can handle me a dangerous man

No, really, I can

“Please,” he began. “I’m so sorry, I was drunk and stupid and you look so pretty, so, so pretty and I need to touch you, I-I need you, p-please,” he groaned when your hand surpassed his waistband. 

“Don’t stop,” you smirked. 

“I’m so sorry, y-you’re just so perfect, I-I wanted to share you-” 

“You want someone else in here fucking me?” You asked, a giggle in your voice. 

“No! No. I-I wanna fuck you, I do, please let me fuck you,” he begged as you laughed at his sudden reaction. You dragged your hand up and down his length as he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“I’m sure you’d love to have another person in here, watching you get fucked. Or you get fucked by two people, god you’re such a slut,” you laughed at him as beads of sweat dripped down his chest. “Not my good boy anymore, no?”

“Yes! Yes! Just you, just you-” He clapped a hand over his mouth as he came, biting into the skin. 

As he came down he kissed you, and apologised, you accepted with a promise from him to never show the videos to anyone ever again, to be careful when he was drunk. 

They shook their heads sayin', "God, help her"

When I told 'em he's my man (I told 'em he's my man)

But your good Lord didn't need to lift a finger

I can fix him, no, really, I can (No, really, I can)

When he walked into work the next day, he was confused by the laughs and jokes sent his way. That was until he saw your letter of resignation with a note beside it, reading: 

You should’ve been more careful ;)

He opened his phone to find the video of that night sent to the staff group chat, just like yours had been. 

Woah, maybe I can't

---------------------

the bear masterlist :)

tortured poets department masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, challengers, obx+)

[feinv]

black beauty. john wick x fem!reader. smut. fluff. unprotected sex on a couch (it’s big and comfortable). praise, oh god. established rp. john the loving husband. 1.5 words

summary. john comes home to his loving wife after a long day, only to find out she missed him just as much as he did her ;)

a/n. so excited to post my first full fic. feedbacks and reblogs are appreciated. requests are open. enjoy 💌

the moonlight shone through the panel glasses of the house you and john now shared together. for john, this house was nothing but a concrete construction — lifeless, dull, and lonely. just a place where he could eat, shower, and sometimes sleep, if he could return before sunrise. ever since you came into his life, the house was now home to him, a comfort place where his lover awaited him with open arms and a heart full of lust and desire.

you were on the couch, tucked tightly under the blankets. you must have fallen asleep while waiting for john again: a constant occurrence. but you didn't mind, not at all. how could you? he was the best man out there, your favorite person in the whole word, so devoted to you. you would wait an eternity for him if it meant you would be together in the end.

the sound of an approaching car accompanied by a lock turn woke you up. you rubbed your eyes slightly, hoping to get some sense of time and place after the nap before a mild panic seized through your body, but quickly vanished when you realized it could only be john. no one in their right or even wrong mind would dare to break into the infamous baba yaga’s house.

john sighs heavily as he closes the door behind him, being relieved that he has finally made it home to you. he took in his surroundings, the moonlight casting pale and ghastly shades — the only light in the living room. his eyes then locked on your sleepy figure covered in blankets — the only light in his life.

“oh, sweetheart…” his tired and hoarse voice echoed as he approached you slowly, stopping in front of the couch, looking down at you. “you didn’t have to stay up for me.”

“can’t sleep without you,” you turn your head up, looking at him with your doe eyes before moving your hands up to reach his neck. he cranes his body down to hug you, hands wrapping around your waist and lifting you up. he turns both of you around before sitting down on the coach with you straddling his lap.

his hands still resting on your lower back, he casts a glance at your face, the lamp illuminating your beautiful features. his look is so gentle and loving instead of his usual cold exterior - one he always carries around others, but never with you.

“i missed you,” he whispers in the dark, one of his hands brushing the hair out of your face. you smiled softly before his lips crushed into yours, kissing you so tenderly, so gently, as if he was afraid you would break. you return the kiss while your hands find the end of his soft raven hair to play with.

“missed you too…so much,” you say in between. there is a soft groan at the back of his throat as he deepens the kiss, sliding his hands under your shirt, his calloused fingers sending shivers down your spine. as your lips move in unison, john becomes more passionate, taking your bottom lip between his teeth, earning a soft moan from you, and pulling you closer to him.

you break the kiss only to catch your breath when his lips start kissing your jawline. you move you head back, giving him more access to your neck where he is leaving red bite marks and bruises. john moves his hands from your waist, pulling your shirt off, cursing to himself when he realizes you weren’t wearing a bra. you got off him for a second to quickly get rid of your shorts, only panties covering your body now. your cheeks flush due to bareness of your body, all exposed to him, in contrast to his full suit.

right when you were about to sit back in his lap, he flipped you onto the couch, towering over you. john takes a moment to admire you, lips reaching to your collarbone and planting a kiss there. he continues to plant soft kisses all over your body, hands roaming just about everywhere.

“so goddamn beautiful,” he whispers between the kisses, his beard tickling your soft skin, making sure to worship every inch of your body — like he always does. he always told you you were a goddess. and he would worship you like one. you let out several moans under his touch, unable to control your voice, eyes sparkling at the thought of what you were about to do.

john tugs the waistband of your panties, slowly sliding it down your legs, moments before it joins the pile of clothes long forgotten on the floor. he kisses your lips again, more urgently this time, more messier, hungrier.

“look at you…so perfect, so flawless,” he murmured, his eyes shamelessly roaming all over your nude body, your every curve — so vulnerable and trusting for him.

you move your hands to his trousers, clumsy fingers unbuckling his belt, letting them fall loose, visible bulge through his underwear making your stomach squirm with excitement. you quickly tug his underwear down, letting his dick sprang free, tip glistering with pre-cum. you didn’t have the time to undress the rest of him when john did it himself, watching as you occupy yourself by gliding your fingers down to your folds.

what a sight to behold, he thought to himself.

what he didn’t know is that you were thinking the exact same thing looking up at his body. all six feet of him completely naked for you, his toned muscles and bulky arms, scars and decades old wounds making your head dizzy.

you loved every inch of him. he was perfect to you, although he would never admit that to himself.

“no, darling. let me make you feel good,” john took your hands and pinned them behind your head with his one hand. his other hand slowly replacing yours and moving to your folds, fingers lazily drawing circles on your clit, his head now buried in the valley between your nude breasts, kissing and sucking your soft skin.

“john…”you moan at the sensation, falling your head back on the couch. he looks up at you, his dark eyes boring into yours. he sets your pinned hands free when he shifts back a little, aligning himself in front of your entrance. his one hand was now readjusted on your thigh, gently holding it while his other hand held yours. he always did that when you were making love. it was a silent gesture, a sign of affection — love, lust, trust.

you both grunted when he slowly entered you, inch by inch, careful not to hurt you as you took a minute to stretch and get used to his sheer size. once you gave him a little nod, john started thrusting into you, in and out, keeping a steady pace. you wrapped your legs around his torso, allowing him a deeper access.

as his thrusts become more violent and urging, a groan escapes his lips as he watches him disappearing in and out if you, taking the scenery in front of him. your mouth slightly open, your hooded eyes struggling to focus, your desperate moans filling the room, breasts bouncing with each thrust. this sight alone could send him over the edge.

john hits your sensitive spot every single time, having memorized exactly how your body works, making you produce all kinds of sounds. you grip the couch, the soft material clenching under your fingers as your eyes start to water at how good he’s fucking you.

“don’t-” you fail to form a sentence, which instead came out as a whimper, as your pleasure was nearing you, making your mind clouded and brain all fogged.

“what was that, sweetheart? couldn’t hear you,” john replied to your plea, simultaneously moving closer to you.

“i- fuck!” you mewled when he took your one breast into his mouth while his hand was toying with your clit. he licked your nipple, gently sucking and swirling on it with his skilled tongue, before moving to give the same attention to you other breast. you were now fucked into oblivion, almost unconscious, goosebumps seizing your whole body, eyes rolling back as he kept pleasuring you in different ways.

he was delighted to know he was making you feel those things, and he would tease you about it. he slowed down his movements, not giving you the satisfaction you needed yet. “use your words, darling.”

you sigh frustrated, needing him to move faster. “please…i need you, john. need you so bad, please.”

what could he do if not comply?

he continued his voluptuous rhythm, your previous pleasure building up again. you move your hand to his back for additional support, leaving red scratch marks all over, earning a groan from him.

“there you go. doing so good for me, angel,” he was dangerously close too, nearly unable to hold himself, but for him, your pleasure was a priority.

with few final thrusts, you scream out his name so loud — almost pornographically — as the waves of orgasm wash over you, vibrating through your whole body. john follows, not far behind. with a particular loud groan he spills his release inside of you, head falling back with a few strands of hair stuck on his forehead.

after you both ride out your highs, john moves both of you so you find yourself straddling him again. he tugs you closer to him with his arms draped around your body, drawing small soothing circles on your back. your arms crossed behind his neck, you let your head fall on his chest, buried in the crook of his neck while his cock was still buried in you.

you both stay in that position for a minute longer, silently indulging in each other's embrace before exchanging i love yous and slow kisses, moonlight shining over your sore figures.

©️feinv, 2024.

[spookwyrdie]

Hiii 👋🏻 I'm the anon that requested the Seungmin fic and I can't tell you how happy I am that you wrote it and so quickly too!! It was so so so much better than what I had imagined🥰🤭 Thank you soo much for writing it🤗❤️ and ik you literally JUST posted it but please a part 2 sometime? I'm soo curious to know what reader will do to Seungmin once they finally get home.☺️😚 Personally I'm thinking about tying him up a lil and edging him more and then just overstimulating him to oblivion cuz canon Seungmin has a pain kink and that just messes me up every time I remember 🤭🤤 but I wanna know what you had in store for him hehe😈

Hi Anonnie 🥰 Finally got attacked by visions of subby Seungmin again enough to finish up this part 2!

{part one can be found here}

Only Wanna Be With You {part 2}

sub!Seungmin x domme!reader

warnings: smut, sexual content, noona kink, vibrators, edging, ruined orgasm (I promise it's okay in the end lol), overstimulation, 18+ ONLY, MDNI

summary: After your evening of teasing at the karaoke bar, Seungmin is desperate to feel you. But his eagerness might get the better of him

word: 3.6k

You let Seungmin drag you into the house, pausing every few steps to draw you in a heated kiss. You even let him drag you all the way into the bedroom, pressing your body up against the closed door and sucking red marks into your neck. His hands roam your body, grabbing onto any part of you harshly, squeezing any bit of your flesh that he can. He’s insatiable, body pressed up against you, crashing into you like a wave breaking over a rocky shore. 

You let him lead the way for a bit, getting lost in the moment and his desperation. As your tongues entwine, he growls into the kiss, pulling away to nip at your bottom lip. He shifts position to slot a thigh between your legs, tilting your hips to grind against him. 

When his domineering side peeks through, it makes it all the more fun for you to take control and watch him crumble. You let him believe he’s the one in charge for a few minutes, rocking your hips against him, whimpering into his kiss. He’s so worked up from your fun at the karaoke bar that he forgets you still hold on to the one thing that will make his knees buckle.

You sneak your phone out of your pocket, knowing full well that Seungmin is too far gone in the moment to notice. You crack one eye open as you open the app for the remote control of the vibrator still sitting snug around his hardening cock. He’s still lost in you, obsessed with the way you feel against him, hungry for you. Your thumb taps the button and amps up the vibration to almost the highest setting.

He yelps as his hips jerk towards you. As expected his knees turn to jelly and he collapses his weight against you, shaking from the sudden onslaught of sensation. The agony of pleasure paints his features, his brow furrowed and his jaw slack. He chokes on the moan that tries to escape. You kiss along his jaw to his ear and chuckle. 

“Nice try, Minnie,” you murmur. “A valiant effort, truly.”

He slides down your body, knees dropping him to the carpet. His fingers grip harshly onto your thighs as he whimpers, hips shuddering beneath you. He looks up at you, pleading in his eyes.

“Y/n… please-” 

“Oh, it’s not Y/n tonight,” you say, cupping his cheek. “Tonight, it’s Noona.”

You turn the vibration down to the lowest level. Reaching out, your fingers grip the collar of his shirt, dragging him back up to a standing position. You pull Seungmin close to your face, tilting your head leaning in like you’re going to kiss him. Just as his eyes close, you run your hand up his neck to his mouth, slipping two fingers inside gently. He whines as he wraps his lips around your digits, the hot silk of his mouth pulling you in. 

Using the leverage of your fingers in his mouth, you push him gently until he starts to walk backwards one step at a time. You walk him across the room this way until the back of his knees meet the mattress. Pulling your fingers out of his mouth, he falls into a seated position.

“I want your clothes off in the next 2 minutes. Go.”

He scrambles to undress himself, tearing off his shirt and fumbling with his belt. You cross your arms, standing in front of him, eye raking over him. His cock strains against his underwear, a small wet spot already visible in the fabric. When he’s finished, he sits on the bed and places his hands on his own thighs, flushed cock standing at attention.

“Good boy,” you purr, caressing his cheek.

His whole face lights up at the praise, eyes sparkling in the low light. You grin as you look over him, tilting his chin up and capturing his lips. He moans into your touch, hands balling into fists on his thighs, desperate to feel you. You lean into him, pressing a knee into the mattress between his legs. Seungmin’s cock twitches at the brush of your thigh and you can feel the vibrator thrumming away on the lowest setting.

“Y/n- I mean Noona…” he whispers. “Can I touch you?”

“You can do more than that, Minnie,” you say. “I need you to get me out of my clothes too.”

Grabbing his wrists, you feel a slight tremor in his hands when you place them on your body. His moves are tentative, each article of clothing he looks up and asks for a silent permission to continue. Soon his fingers graze over the textured lace of your bra, sliding around back to unhook it. 

Your breasts spill out of the cups as he takes off the garment, your nipples already pebbling in the cool air of the room. His eyes are locked on them, aching to have them in his mouth. He looks up again at you, eyes wide and full of asking. You run your hands over your breasts, rolling your nipples between your fingers, gasping at the touch. A whine builds low in the back of his throat while you tease him before you finally nod, giving him permission.

Seungmin wastes no time wrapping his lips around your nipple, hands coming up to knead at the soft flesh. Massaging and sucking on your skin with his warm mouth leaves you gasping. He uses his teeth to gently graze over the sensitive bud, drawing a moan from your throat. He’s just so good with his mouth.

While his mouth is occupied, his hands move down to your panties, hooking his thumbs in the elastic and pulling them down your hips. The fabric is wet, a string of arousal clings to them as Seungmin peels them off. When they drop to the floor, his hands slide back up to grip onto your ass, pulling you towards him again. Your hand snakes down, grabbing him tenderly by the throat and pulling his face away from where his tongue flicks over your nipple and back up to your face. 

Your lips collide in one devastating short kiss before you pull away. 

“Mouth, I need your mouth on me,” you pant out. Seungmin stands, lifting your body, and lays you down on the bed. He crawls up the bed, capturing your lips once more. You slip your fingers into his hair and grasp hard. He keens at the touch, his hips shaking and cock bobbing. He slots himself in between your thighs, your legs wrapping around his hips automatically. 

The way the tip of his cock brushes across your arousal has you both delirious. Seungmin rocks his hips against you, his cock slipping between your folds, grazing your clit with each movement. You meet his movement, grinding into his cock, whimpering into his mouth. Suddenly, you still, fingers grabbing his hair once more to pull him away. 

“I said I need your mouth, Minnie.” 

He already looks so fucked out, his expression dazed as he meets your eyes. He grins a dopey little grin, swooping down to peck you on the lips before shifting his body down until he’s level with your cunt.

“Of course Noona,” he says, looking up at you from below. He sticks out his tongue with a smile on his face, about to make contact with your with your clit when you interrupt him.

“Now there’s one rule you have to follow.”

“Anything, Noona,” he hums.

You pick up your phone once again and his eyes go wide.

“You’re not allowed to cum until I say so.”

The buzzing of the vibrator fills the room before Seungmin whines, hips rutting into the bed. His fingers dig into your thighs as you chuckle.

“Noo-nAAH…” he moans out in a low pitch, eyes scrunched shut. “Fffuck!”

You lower the vibration a smidge with a wicked smile on your face. Seungmin looks up at you again, his lashes wet from exertion. His cock is so overly sensitive from edging him and teasing him in public - not that you’re going to let up any time soon. The longer it takes, the better it feels. You reach down to ghost your thumb over his reddened cheek.

“Put that filthy mouth to work, Minnie.”

He nods, a devilish determination sparkles in his eye. He hooks his arms around your thighs, pulling you closer to him and descends onto your cunt, kissing your wetness gently before devouring you. His tongue flat against you, he licks long stripes between your lips, savoring the taste. You buck your hips towards him, chasing away the ache from being turned on all night. Seeing Seungmin flushed and hard while he was on stage, and now fixated on making you cum with his tongue, has you wound so tightly already. 

His hips start grinding into the mattress again, whimpering into your cunt as you grab onto his hair. His tongue flicks against the swollen bundle of nerves as sloppy, wet sounds fill the room. You alternate between praising him and cursing at the way he has you pinned down, sucking your clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue around. It makes you dizzy hearing him moan into you.

You have just enough clarity of mind to grab your phone again and turn the vibration up, using your thumb to bounce the speed to the rhythm of his licks. With his cock trapped between his body, the vibrator, and the mattress, he shudders. His skin is buzzing as he pleads against your cunt for release. His desperation to cum paired with his desperation to make you cum first are battling inside of him. You see the way that tears well up in his eyes, decorating his lashes as he looks up at you from below. 

“Noona, I’m-!” he whines, voice cracking.

You shut off the vibrator completely, taking your feet and pressing them into his hips to stop them from moving. He nearly sobs in frustration, taking away the friction he needs to reach his peak. 

“FUCK!”

“I said no cumming until I say so.”

“But, Noona…” he whines, nose and cheeks flushed from unshed tears and desire. 

“No, you have one job right now, Min,” you say. “If you’re a good boy, I’ll make sure you get a reward. Do you want to be a good boy?”

He bites his lip and nods. 

“Good. Get back to work, love.”

A new emotion crosses his features, something like a vulnerable confusion. You’ve never called him “love” before, and it makes his heart flutter. Instead of asking you about it in the moment, he dives right back into you, tenderly kissing your cunt before teasing your clit.

It doesn’t take long to bring you to the edge again, your hips shaking as you squeeze your thighs around Seungmin’s head. He couldn’t care less that he can’t breathe in this moment. Hearing your cries and feeling you gush arousal on his tongue would be pleasure enough to die happily between your legs, lips wrapped around your clit. Breathing can wait. 

You whimper as you chase your high, grinding into his face as he barrages your cunt with his hot mouth. He groans, the sound reverberating in the very core of you. With a cry, your orgasm snaps through you, shattered by Seungmin’s tongue. His hands hold you down as you thrust against his face. As your muscles flutter around him, he doesn’t let up, lapping at you with the same fervor. 

It’s too much as you start to come down from your high. His tongue still flicks across your swollen clit, each lick sending a shock of painful pleasure zipping through your body. You tangle your hands in his hair again and pull him off your cunt with a lewd, slick pop! 

He greets you with that same dopey, fucked out smile, proud of his work. His chin is covered in your essence and he licks his lips.

“Kiss me,” you say, panting. 

You’re still trying to catch your breath as he clambers up your body and presses his lips to yours. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it drives you insane, pulling him closer to your body.

Even though his cock is still hard and leaking from neglect, he settles into your embrace. Your lips slide over his lazily and he’s content with just this. He just wants you in any capacity you’re willing to give him. Both of you notice his cock twitch when you mewl into his mouth, becoming very aware of how much he’s still throbbing with the need for release. 

You detach from his mouth and catch his gaze, tear streaks drying on his cheeks. He smiles at you, adoration plain on his face, until you sneak your hand between your bodies and gently brush the length of him with your fingers. 

“You did so good for me, Minnie,” you say. “Tonight, you get a little treat for that.”

You scoot up the bed until you’re sitting up against the headboard. Opening your legs, Seungmin looks at you curiously as you pat the spot between them. He crawls over to you, finding your lips again in a sweet, short kiss until you take him by the shoulders and gently turn him to face the other direction. His back presses up against your chest as you wrap him in an embrace, pressing light kisses to his neck.

“Noona, wh-”

“Shhh,” you hush him, pulling him closer, trailing your tongue over the shell of his ear.

He fully melts into your touch, his cock bobbing against his lower belly as his body relaxes. You rake your nails through his hair then roam around his body with a ghost of a touch. 

“Open your legs,” you whisper, grazing your nails lightly over his thighs.

He giggles, a shy little noise, as he spreads his legs. You caress over the delicate skin between his thighs and he sighs. Your hands snake around his middle as the heels of your feet hook around his thighs, prying them open further, confining him in such an exposed position.

“Noona…” he whines breathlessly, wiggling his hips. Despite his attempts to move, you have the leverage, bracing your feet into the bed to keep his thighs apart.

“I’ve got you, Minnie,” you whisper, grazing your teeth over his neck. “It’s my turn to play.”

He shudders in your grasp, hips jerking forward as your fingers skim over his nipples. The fabric of the bedsheet bunches in his clenched fists, head thrown back over your shoulder. The little whines that leave his mouth make you chuckle.

“I’ve barely touched you, are you that impatient?”

“Don’t laugh at me!” Seungmin wails. “So much teasing….all night…”

He pouts at you, thrusting his hips up slightly as you laugh. Your fingers trail down, brushing over his length ever so lightly. A bead of pre-cum leaks out of his tip. 

“Poor thing,” you coo, tauntingly. “You’re a mess.”

He hums miserably. He tries to close his thighs around your hand to trap it against his cock, but your legs hold him open as he writhes in your grasp. Your mouth latches on to his neck, sucking a bruising mark into his soft skin. The way your fingers trail around his girth, holding the tip of his cock in your touch and bouncing him gently in your hand. He moans at the way you’re playing with him, his cheeks flushing with the burn of embarrassment and a hot streak of lust. He feels like he’s back on stage in front of everyone, cock hard while he tries to keep his composure and sing. You’re controlling his every move and he’d gladly let you. 

The first full stroke over his cock has him keening, more pre-cum flowing from his tip. Your other hand rests lightly around his jaw. Two of your fingers press into his mouth and he sucks them down greedily with a hum, he thrusts himself into your touch, chasing the minute friction you’re allowing him. 

He braces his arms around your thighs, using the leverage to arch his back further in your embrace while he pumps into your hand. Drool spills from his mouth around your fingers as he fucks himself with your hand, slamming his eyes shut. He’s so close, the edge is approaching faster than he expected. He’s babbling, his hips stutter as he races towards his release-

Your hand leaves him completely and he sobs at the loss.

“Greedy little thing!” you say. Your hand comes down firmly on his thigh, slapping wetly against his skin. 

He throws his head back against your shoulder as he cries out, his cock still throbbing without your touch. Oh god, he can’t hold it back, tears slip down his cheeks again as he realizes he’s at the point of no return. Pearly white fluid leaks out of his tip, pooling against his pubic hair. He hasn’t even crested his peak yet but his cock acts like it’s crossed the finish line already as it bobs in the air, searching for stimulation. He ruined his own orgasm by chasing rather than receiving, by being selfish in your touch. He sobs against you, shame bubbling in his chest while his cum leaks out of him pathetically. He buries his face in his hands, unable to stop crying.

Emotions run high as you soothe him, still holding him tightly in your embrace. You gently reach up to his hands, threading your fingers in his, waiting for his breathing to slow down a bit more. 

“It’s okay, Minnie,” you murmur, planting soft kisses on the back of his neck. “I’ve got you.”

“This fucking sucks so bad!” Seungmin tries to wrench out of your grasp, but you hold him firmly against you.

“Hang on, Min. Give yourself a moment.”

“I already came! It was fucking pathetic!” He throws his head back against your shoulder, covering his eyes with his hand. “It just…leaked out of me, I didn’t even cum, but I sort of did? Who the fuck does that!”

You hush him, rocking him back and forth while he struggles with the sickly wave of feeling. After a few moments, he’s silent.

“Min?”

He hums in response, lost in his own downward spiral of sticky shame.

“Sweetie, your cock is still hard.”

His head perks up in confusion. He looks down at his cock to still find it standing tall, flushed and throbbing. 

“Oh…”

“Do you want me to continue?”

“Y-yes…” he says in a small voice. 

You gingerly take his cock in your hand, gauging his reactions. He hisses at the sensation, extra sensitive but not in the painful kind of way. He moans as you stroke over him carefully.

“Fuck, that feels so good, Noona,” he turns his head towards you, looking into your eyes. He furrows his brow, his eyes sparkling as he whimpers. 

“See? Your body is so good for me. It still wants you to feel good while also listening to the rules,” you murmur against his lips.

He nods, eyes fluttering shut as your hand picks up speed. This time, the feeling is more than just in his cock, it’s spreading warmth throughout his whole abdomen. His heart flutters in the safety of your grasp as you pump him in your hand. His heart racing as he feels his balls tighten, wanting to burst forth. The edge approaches much faster this time, a wave of pleasure rocketing through his body.

“N-noona….” he whines, his jaw slack. “Can I cum, please?”

You lean down to capture his lips as he groans into your mouth, tongues entangled as your hand keeps its momentum on his cock. He arches his back against you again, hips lifted off the bed.

“Yes, Minnie, cum for me!” you say.

His cock started pulsing before the words were even fully out of your mouth. Thick ropes spill out of him as he cries out, his muscles spasming after the last few hours of teasing. You hold him up as his back arches off of the bed completely, pumping him through his orgasm. Your hand keeps moving as his body starts to writhe from the overstimulation. The pain and pleasure jolts through him as he screams from your touch, cheeks red, and tears streaming down his face. Eventually, you catch him as he collapses against you, all the pent up energy spent in the matter of one moment. Seungmin is covered in a fine sheen of sweat, his chest heaving as he takes a deep breath in, forgetting that his lungs need air.

Contentment washes over him as you caress over his heated skin, pressing kisses against his temple. 

“That was amazing, Min,” you murmur against his ear.

He hums in response, exhausted.

You shift gently as you get up to grab a wet washcloth to clean the two of you up. His hands find your body, holding you in his tired grasp, as you gently rub the cloth against his skin. Aftercare is one of the best parts of any sort of night you have together, the affection is overwhelming as it floods the room. You build up a sense of safety again, emotionally and physically, with one another.

You join him in bed again with some water nearby as he pulls you into an embrace. Your lips meet in a languid kiss, both of you too fucked out to lift your heads.

“Seungmin, I have a question for you,” you say, voice gravelly from the night’s activities.

“Anything,” he replies.

You shift to a sitting position, looking him deep in the eyes.

“Why Hootie and the Blowfish?”

[sohnric]

partners in crime – j. changmin

after a series of unpredictable events, you and ji changmin, the foster kid with a shady reputation, become partners in crime. in a world where every choice has a consequence, you two must decide how far you're willing to go as you balance on the edge of danger with the promise of a better life.

pairing: ji changmin x fem! reader

genre: criminals au. coming of age, slice of life. angst, hurt/comfort. thief! changmin. partners in crime au (duh). slight high school au. inspired by a real case of robbery in a jewelry store here lmao. also loosely inspired by the kdrama extracurricular!

wc: 33k (33.689)

warnings: mentions of alcoholism and juvenile behavior, swearing, changmin's character is a little inconsistent at first. changmin is a foster child, dysfunctional families, financial issues, yn's father is absent. mentions of minors going on dates with older men, a man trying to take advantage of the reader, a physical fight (with the use of a knife), fake gun, robbery and that should be it...?

playlist || teaser || ao3

a/n: i had worked on this fic since december and only finished it at the beginning of may i am so glad it's finally out TT thank you SO much to my best friend @csenke for beta reading this, your comments were what made me feel more secure about this fic to actually post it. i know it's a lot of work and i appreciate you<3 i always wanted to write a fic like this and it's finally here, i hope yall like it hihi taglist: @songchan @luumiinaa

One of the police officers drags you up from the chair by your shoulder, urging you to move outside of the room. The one that’s been sitting opposite of you smiles sadly at you– something akin to sympathy, but not enough to really get through and hit your core– while the other one opens the door and shoves you down to sit at the plastic chair outside of the office. His movements are more stern and strong, tone of voice more stingy when he talks to you– it’s not hard to differentiate which one of them has kids at home, which one knows the tired eyes of a teenager more.

“Wait here until your mother picks you up,” the officer says, a stone cold look making you shiver.

“She doesn’t know that I’m here. You called her and she didn’t pick up, so–”

“I don’t care, young lady. Either your mother comes to pick you up, or you stay here forever, for all I care,” he mutters, sending you another one of his sharp looks before he turns around and disappears back into the room you came from, shutting the door behind him with a loud thud. 

Figure jumping at the sudden noise, you settle deeper into the uncomfortable chair. Christmas will come earlier than your mother, and that’s a lot to say, since it’s March– and it seems that nobody really cares if you stay here forever. It’s not surprising, actually. Not at all. You don’t know what you were thinking anyway, but hey– desperate times call for desperate measures, and you had no other way of going around the situation. You don’t regret trying. You just regret getting caught.

Head resting against the hard wall, intending to rest your eyes closed and maybe take a nap before a miracle happens and your mother somehow starts caring and appears on the doorstep of the police, your orbs are met with another pair sitting opposite of you, silently watching the previous exchange. The intensity of his gaze almost makes you jump in surprise again, only relaxing when you recognise the owner of the dark chocolate irises and visibly shudder, embarrassment creeping up your neck. 

It’s not every day you meet a guy from your school at a police station. Well, it’s not every day you end up at the police station, but being caught by someone who is aware of your existence makes this whole encounter even more uncomfortable.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Ji Changmin chirps, something akin to an amused smirk appearing on his face. His composure is light. He seems to be comfortable with the situation– well, as much as you can read from his blood-smeared face– and you start to wonder how and why your silent classmate from English class would end up at the police station, with a cut on his lip, a bruise on his upper jaw and scraped knuckles on full display, as he rests his intertwined hands in his lap.

“Could say the same about you,” you shrug, biting back at him. 

“Oh please,” he snickers, shaking his head in disbelief, “I’m a regular here.”

The sentence catches you off guard. It’s not every day you meet a guy from school at a police station, but considering his words, it seems like you would meet him here every day, only if you were dragged here by rough hands of a police officer as often as he has.

“Oh,” you gasp, not really knowing how to react to such a confession, “good… to know…?” you mumble, nodding to prove your point.

You expect the conversation to die down– you don’t really know what to talk about with someone you barely know at the most unusual place you could imagine for a conversation. Ji Changmin is one of the classmates you’ve never talked to before, but would say hi to when passing them by on the street. He seems polite and easy-going enough to not feel uncomfortable with when left alone in a closed space together, but aloof enough to not have many friends himself. You barely know anything about him– apart from his marks in the one class you share, since you are often chosen to be the one to hand out graded tests at the beginning of English– and you don’t expect things to change just because you met him in unfortunate circumstances.

At least you know this won’t get out in any way. Not like you have any reputation to withhold in the first place– you’d just hate to have the reputation of someone being chased around by the police. Trying hard to find the light in the things, you thank all higher forces that out of everyone, the one classmate that could witness all of this is the guy with seemingly no friends to tell.

Changmin seems to have different plans, though. For someone that isn’t interested in making bonds with people, he seems to be interested in casual talk with you.

Well, if you could call this casual.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “they always let the kid from the foster house get away with it. They blame it on the trauma, or something, make me sign some papers and then someone comes to pick me up and the cycle repeats itself over and over again.”

The information catches you off guard. Truth be told, you didn’t know that about Changmin– you doubt anyone from school really knows, except for the teachers, and the sudden confession makes you hesitant. You don’t really know why he’s telling you this. If you were in his position, you’re sure you wouldn’t. It seems like everyone has a different measure for what’s appropriate to tell someone you barely know, though, and Changmin seems to enjoy the weird intimacy of the quiet police station enough to dump this information on you.

“Oh…” you say, chewing on the inside of your cheek. Not wanting him to think you’re distressed with the information, disturbed, even, you try hard to think of a conversation topic to discuss with him. “What… what did you do this time, then?” you ask, mentally slapping yourself for being so awkward.

“Tried to pickpocket someone on the street,” he says, chuckling to himself. His eyes move to his bruised hands, shrugging. “Seems like I picked a bad victim. See, he had this fancy watch, so I saw him as a jackpot, but then he swung at me and… here I go,” he says, laughing as if it was a funny story.

He must be a regular here. He is too comfortable with being arrested to not be.

“That’s… unfortunate,” you hum, watching as the boy in front of you shrugs, eyes curious as they land on yours.

“It is… I could buy so much with that money,” he sighs, shaking his head, “what about you, though? How did you end up here?”

“Oh, uhm…” you gasp, scratching the back of your neck, suddenly a little shameful to admit it once you’re asked, “I… I tried to steal something and I was caught by the store owner, so he called the police on me…” you tightly smile, hoping to seem nonchalant.

“Shoplifting?” Changmin chuckles. “What did you want to steal? Designer clothes, or something?” he snickers, obviously mocking you. And it’s valid– you are a teenage girl, after all. You seem to have everything you need in your life, but that’s only because you don’t let anyone even suspect that there is something wrong. To an outsider's eye, they might think there is nothing more you could need to be happy if not designer clothes or jewelry. It’s what most teenage girls get caught stealing– you guess he’s not wrong for making such a guess.

Still, you feel a bit hurt at seeming so vain. Locking eyes with the boy, you shrug. If he’s going to share every small detail of his life with you in the comfort of the walls of the police station, you guess you can unveil at least something to him, desperate to make him feel ashamed for assuming.

“No, actually,” you say, the tone of voice suddenly calm and collected, “I was stealing groceries.”

And it finally seems to down on him– because if you try to steal something, it means you’re lacking it, right? Why would you steal something you can easily buy?

That’s right– you wouldn’t.

Changmin’s eyes soften with the realization, his mouth opening to say something– anything– before he’s cut off by the door to one of the offices opening, the kinder one of the policemen approaching you with a solemn look in his eye, leaning towards you to talk quietly into your ear.

“You can go home now, okay? We’ll let you off with a warning this time,” he says, smiling at you. 

“But my mother–”

“Just go.”

You guess the object you’re stealing makes a difference in the way you’re treated at the police station. Also, you guess it’s good that people still have sympathy.

Usually, you hate the sad looks from people that are aware. This time, you leave the police station comforted, happy to know that you still have a future without a criminal record.

You’ll have to be more careful next time.

Eyes catching the glimmer of the silver chain in between your fingers, you press your skin into the metal and drag your nail over the stones in the pedant. You watch over the glass vitrines situated all around the store, various different shades of gold and silver staring back at you, almost laughing to your face with the prize tags slapped onto them, showing prices worth more than your groceries for the month. 

Contemplating your next decision, looking behind your shoulder to catch the security camera watching you, you think over your next steps. Angling your body so that it’s shielding what you’re doing with your hands, you gently take out the drawer that you’ve taken the silver chain out of, pretending to put the jewelry back where you got it from.

Your movements are careful, calculated. You’ve rethought this plan over and over again, birthed in your mind the moment you saw the sign ‘hiring’ on the glass door of the fancy jewelry store in the town center– made adjustments to it, tweaked it around and tried your hardest to make a good impression on your boss so she wouldn’t suspect anything– but now that you’re actually in front of the important part, the one that’s supposed to help you the most in your hunt for money, you can’t really bring yourself to do it.

Who knows. Maybe you could just keep the job– you don’t make much, though, considering you only work part-time. With the way your shifts are scheduled and the amount of time you have to put into working, you don’t really see the jewelry store as a good source of income– you are barely home and have time for anything. 

And it’s not the kind of money you need. Not at all.

Sighing to yourself, you shake your head to clear it off all thoughts– it’s time to do it. You can be sneaky. You can be uncaught. You just have to put your head to it.

Fingers shaking, you move the chain towards the front pocket of your jeans, ready to hide it in there and then sell it in the pawn shop a few weeks later to not raise much suspicion– when the sound of the front door opening brings you out of your thoughts, making you jump in surprise. Eyes snapping to the customer entering the store, you get ready to sport the kindest, warmest smile you can– to seem innocent and not at all suspicious. However, the grin stops growing mid-way as you recognise the appearance of the customer, smile freezing and turning into a concerned frown. 

This is not how you’d expect a customer of a fancy jewelry store to look.

The person is dressed in black, skinny jeans adorning their thighs, the hood of their jacket pulled over their head and a mask covering the bottom half of their face. Before you get a chance to dwell on it any further, they take out a gun– and they point it to your face.

There’s a moment in time where you feel like everything freezes. A moment in time where you just stare the gun into its eyes and wait for the person to shoot you, a moment in time where you can’t even think. Your brain clears, the only thought present at the tip of your tongue being– this is not how I imagined to go.

Your hands start shaking as you put them above your head, pupils dilating in terror. You guess this is something you should’ve expected when taking the job in an expensive jewelry store, but even though you’re aware a situation like this could exist in your timeline, you don’t really expect it. It’s like that with all bad things in life– you keep telling yourself that there’s no way something like that would happen to a person like you.

There’s no way your father would leave. There’s no way your mother’s world would crumble. There’s no way you’ll be left in charge of everything. There’s no way you’ll have to be the one to steal groceries because you can’t afford to buy food to put into your sister’s mouth. 

There’s no way a man would pull out a gun on you in the middle of your shift.

And yet, it happened. Everything.

In a moment of absolute terror, though, it feels like the world starts spinning again and the force clutching your chest relaxes a little when you stare into the man’s eyes. 

Strange, isn’t it?

There’s a sense of familiarity in his gaze. Something mirroring a weird kind of surprise, a weird kind of recognition. A million different thoughts flow through your brain, eyes scanning his figure– the skin of his hands as he grips the gun that you now recognise to be one of the kinds you use when you play airsoft, not a real one– the lean posture of his figure, but most importantly, the spark in his dark orbs that somehow invites you to do everything he tells you to. Not because he’d kill you if you don’t– but because somehow, you know this might be of gain for you.

Trying hard to play out your previous panic, riding off the erratic heartbeat in your chest, you walk over to the cash register and open the drawer. Eyes meeting with the intruder, you precisely take out the bills stacked in the register, throwing them on the counter in a careless, yet seemingly nervous manner. 

“The jewelry,” he mumbles, pointing towards the vitrines with his chin, waiting for you to obey his words. 

It doesn’t take you much to take out the drawers full of silver and gold, letting the man take whatever he pleases, his bag filled with expensive chains and rings, all while he keeps the gun on you to get the full effect. 

You could be given an Oscar for how good your acting performance was in this very moment.

Your eyes lock in another meaningful gaze, one that suggests that all cards are on the table now and you share a secret you will never be able to shake off, before he disappears out of the store into the dark. Acting stunned for the camera, you only reach for the phone when you’re certain he’s far enough to not be caught, dialing 911 and telling the line all about the robbery.

Ji Changmin chose the bad jewelry store to rob.

Or maybe, he chose the best one he could.

You find him sitting on one of the tables with built-in benches at the corner of the school yard, alone and seemingly lost in thought. His eyes are dark, deep as the ocean, the black bangs falling into his eyes only helping more with pushing his mysterious appearance. The tie around his neck is a little loose, since Changmin was never the believer of wearing your school uniform properly, and when you approach him, he barely notices your presence. 

Clearing your throat, you finally catch his attention. The male stares up at you, raising his eyebrows in question, as if to ask you what you want from him. And it’s valid– as you’ve never been the one to talk to him first, since he was the self-believed outcast in the school (and self-preserved too, since he never really made any attempts at connecting with others) – but you think that after your recent encounter, you reaching out to him is not something that shall surprise the boy. More so, he should’ve expected it.

“Changmin,” you hum, as if to tell him that he should be the one to talk to you first, the one to bring up the matter. If you really think about it, he should apologize. If not for making you lose your job (which was mostly your fault, because you didn’t make the attempt to call the police on the thief fast enough), then for the emotional damage and very obvious trauma his little play could’ve cost you, had you not recognised him and the fake gun aimed towards your forehead.

“Y/N,” he smiles, the tug of his lips almost looking ironical. He looks like the Cheshire cat, mischief almost reeking of him as he pats the place next to him on the table, legs resting on top of the bench crossed, showing his casualty. “Fancy seeing you here,” he says, and with that, you know he sees right through you.

He knows damn well why you came. Hell, it would be weird if he didn’t. He also knew that you’d come crawling to him first, almost taking advantage of the fact that he has the upper hand on you with knowing the information you confided him with at the police station. No person that steals groceries is a millionaire, after all. Only someone who desperately needs the money goes ahead and steals something so trivial. 

Maybe it's a bit of an asshole move from Changmin, if you really think about it. You let him get away with it, and now, he’s pretending like you owe him one, not the other way around.

“What do I owe the pleasure to?” he asks, tone of voice laced with irony. He is almost a little too lighthearted for someone who robbed a jewelry store just three days prior, and it suddenly makes you wonder if he’s done this before. How often does a boy like him just run around town and steals things from big corporations? You’re all for the eat the rich agenda– it’s just a little weird to think about how skilled Ji Changmin looked in the act. How calm he was. As if he’s done stuff like this before. As if he was an expert.

Was this his hobby? A way to pass time?

“Cut it out, Changmin,” you grunt, tugging the edge of your skirt down as you sit on the table next to him, covering your thighs, “you know why I’m here.”

“I’m afraid I have no idea,” he hums, pursing his lips and acting out a perfectly staged face of surprise. If you could punch him in the face right now, you’d do it. You didn’t notice the boy to be so smug back at the police station– maybe it was your own distress shielding your judgment. 

“Come on,” you roll your eyes, sighing. “I didn’t let you off just to have you laugh in my face about it. Where’s my cut?” you ask, feeling a little impatient at this point.

“Your cut?” he asks, chuckling. “I wasn’t aware you were the one doing the dirty job, you know. All you did was let me off because you were scared–”

“Of your airsoft gun? Mhm, you are so correct,” you cut him off, noticing his face spread into one of irritation. A crease appears in the middle of his eyebrows at your reaction, his jaw hardening when he sees the annoyance in your eyes. You don’t know what he was thinking– that you’re just gonna leave him off with all the money? He couldn’t be that stupid, could he?

“Look, it was me who did the work, so I don’t understand why you would think that you get a cut,” he shrugs, crossing his arms at his chest. 

“You do understand that I can just walk up to the police station and tell them that it was you?” you say, suddenly turning stone cold and serious. You thought yours and Changmin's little secret could do you something good– now it seems that you were wrong. “They wouldn’t bat an eye before sending you to jail, I bet. They have hoards of evidence of your past criminal behavior, but I don’t think they could overlook this one–”

“Now, don’t get all threatening on me, sweetheart,” he grunts, kissing his teeth. “There’s no reason to get all defensive–”

“Oh really!” you exclaim, catching the male off guard as you stand up from your seat, suddenly too heated to be in his presence. “I do believe that I have all the right to get defensive, though! You know damn well I didn’t do this so you can run with the money and spend it on fuckall! Because guess what, Changmin– I did this to get something out of it. Not everyone gets to go around and do stupid shit for fun, so you best believe that when I basically became an accomplice to your crime, it wasn’t just for shits and giggles.”

The male opens his mouth to reply to you, but before he gets a chance to do so, you continue, running your hand through your hair. “And if you think that I steal groceries for fun, then you’re terribly wrong. So if you don’t let me take the part of money I rightfully deserve by basically dropping the hundred dollars worth of jewelry right into your grabby hands so I can survive for the next few days, you best believe I will do something about it.”

There’s a moment of silence between the two of you, the only thing heard around being the chirping of the birds and the sound of the wind hitting your eardrums. Your hair gets in your face from the strength of the breeze, the fabric of your school uniform’s skirt ruffling against your thighs. It’s like the world stopped, something behind Changmin’s eyes changing at seeing your obvious distress. You’re really starting to think this was all a game for the boy. Something to pass the time– something to occupy his bored mind with.

He doesn’t reply to you even after a few seconds, though, which makes you even more mad. The anger is tinted with disappointment and fury as you turn around and shuffle your feet through the school yard, accompanied by the sound of the school bell in the distance announcing your next period. You’re ready to leave the boy there, already thinking of all ways you could go around telling the authorities without ratting yourself out in the process too.

Suddenly, something comes into contact with your wrist, pulling you back. Your legs stumble a bit, but you manage to stand your ground and throw daggers with your eyes at Changmin still holding you in your place. “Let me go–”

“Look–”

“I have class, Changmin,” you grunt, attempting to take your hand out of his grasp, but failing. His hold is firm. Unpainful, but strong. It makes you annoyed.

“Will you listen to me for just a second? Gosh,” he rolls his eyes, dropping your hand as if it was poisoned, shaking his head at your antics. You stare at him with raised eyebrows, waiting for what he has to say after having the opportunity to speak before, but ignoring it altogether and leaving you with the cold shoulder. Did he change his mind in that split second you showed him your back? Did he realize you were serious with your threats?

“Of course I’m gonna give you the cut,” he grunts, scoffing. “What do you think I am? I was just keeping it for some leverage.”

The question sounds a bit ironical out of his mouth, since he spent the last couple of minutes trying to convince you that you have no part in his little robbery and that you have no right for the money he gained from it. The other half of his statement makes you intrigued, though. Not in a good way– just in a way that makes you wonder what the fuck he was talking about.

“Leverage?” you ask, squinting at him in question.

“Well,” he starts, staring at the sky for a split second, as if collecting his thoughts into coherent sentences. Scrambling for something in the back pocket of his pants, he takes out an envelope seemingly filled with cash he’s gained, offering it to you, but retracting his hand as soon as you start reaching for it. “Let’s say I have a bit of a plan for us two. A plan to make even more than this,” he says, pointing towards the envelope.

Squinting at the male, you scoff. As if you would ever agree to something so reckless. If this interaction with Ji Changmin taught you anything, it’s that the boy is not to be trusted. You can’t read him. You can’t tell when he’s joking or when he’s serious, you can’t tell if he’s going to save you or throw you under the bus the moment he has a chance to. And if his plan is anything similar to the ways he’s shown himself to you before, you’re fairly certain that you want nothing to do with his endeavors.

“Yeah, no, thank you,” you say, snatching the envelope from his hand and turning on your heel, ready to leave before he changes his mind again and takes what’s rightfully yours out of your grasp, like the thief he seemingly is.

“Think it over, Y/N. You said you need the money,” he calls after you, not making a move from his previous spot in the corner of the yard. His words sting you a bit, but you guess he’s not wrong– no matter how embarrassed or ashamed you feel of the situation. The outside of the school is completely empty now, everyone back to their classrooms waiting for the lectures to start, letting his words resonate in the stranded field. “I think we could make a very good team.”

Not looking back, you walk through the grass, taking a look at the amount in the envelope. You don’t know the exact ratio he split the money into, since you don’t really know how much he earned after selling everything at the pawn shop, but it’s more than you expected. 

More than you would’ve made with your initial plan.

Still– you want nothing to do with Ji Changmin. This only happened once, and you’ll make sure it never happens again. Associating yourself with someone like him will do you more bad than good in the future, and that’s something you really can’t afford right now. 

No matter how hard he tries to persuade you, you two will never be a part of the same plan.

Lunch breaks are almost always spent alone lately. Or at least that’s how it’s been in the last few months, the last few years. It’s not like you don’t have any friends or acquaintances to spend them with– you’re not that antisocial– it’s just a lot easier to mask the fact that you have no food to put into your mouth when nobody pays attention to whether you eat or not.

The last amount of money you could afford to spend was pressed into the palm of your younger sister when you walked her to school today. There was no way for you to buy something at the canteen, and the last groceries that were edible were eaten last night. There was no way you could satisfy your hunger during the lunch break today, and to spare being embarrassed by the fact that you are barely holding your life together (since you’re 17 and taking care of everything), you decide to spend the few minutes in between classes in the school yard, sitting in the grass at the far corner of the school property.

Your eyes are pressed into your notebook, scribbling away as you try to pass time and ignore the pain in your stomach, chewing on the inside of your cheek in a bad attempt at focusing onto something else. When the sketch of the tree to your right turns out badly the third time in a row, you sigh and scribble all over the little drawing, wanting to see no more of it, wanting it to disappear. The very moment the tip of your pen lifts off the paper, something falls into your lap, the sound of a plastic bag rustling in the wind making you jolt in surprise.

Taking the item into your hand, you notice the sandwich wrapped in a tissue paper staring back at you, as if you wished it to existence and it fell into your lap from the sky with the sheer impact of your thinking. After more consideration, though, you look around and find a raven haired boy looking down at you, an indifferent look adorning his face.

“Changmin,” you hum, acknowledging his presence.

“Y/N,” he nods, taking a seat next to you on the grass, completely uninvited. His invasion of your personal space makes you sigh, but his gesture makes you even more frustrated. Pointing towards the sandwich he threw into your lap, you ask.

“What is this?”

“A sandwich,” he shrugs, “I bought extra, we can share.”

A heartbeat passes of you and him having a staring contest, something inside of you turning bitter at the otherwise nice gesture. Is he making fun of you? Or does he pity you?

You hate both alternatives– you almost can’t decide which one you despise more.

“Look, Changmin,” you scoff, shaking your head in disbelief, “I don’t know what the fuck you’re trying to do right now, but I am not your charity case. Just because you know I’m too poor to buy my own lunch, it doesn’t mean you can humiliate me and do it for me,” you grunt, throwing the sandwich back into his grip. He catches it with no trouble, fast reflexes working on full time.

“I didn’t get it to humiliate you,” he says, rolling his eyes at your antics. It seems to be hard for you to accept actions of service from people– and Changmin somehow understands. He’s been through it with people around him his whole life. They show him any kind of kindness or pity for the fact that his parents decided he wasn’t good enough to keep and threw him into the adoption system, and Changmin feels himself crawling out of his skin. He doesn’t need pity. He hates the considerate looks.

But after years of living that way, he learned to use those instances for his advantage. There’s no excuse as useful to getting him out of trouble as “I’m sorry, I live in a foster home.”

“Yeah? Then why did you?”

Changmin sighs, closing his eyes and paying more thought to how he’s going to reply to you. Speaking with you feels like working with a wild animal– any bad step could shoo you away, or make you attack. He doesn’t want either of those options. Actually, he wants something completely else. “It’s a bribe, really,” he shrugs, watching you and waiting for your reaction.

“A bribe?” you scoff, your chuckle almost sounding amused. “I already told you I want nothing to do with your plan, so you can take your stupid sandwich and fuck off.”

“I’m persistent when I want to be,” he just replies, watching you with an unmoving expression.

Ignoring his antics– as if to test how persistent he really can be– you point your eyes back towards your notebook, scribbling random lines and shapes into the thin paper. There’s only so much silence he can bear before he realizes you won’t pay him a minute of your time, you think, but the more you scribble away and the more the birds around you chirp and the distant voices of kids enjoying their lunch break preserve, the less confident you are in your assumption. Ji Changmin is a strange individual.

“Look, we don’t have to lie to ourselves now, Y/L/N. You know shit about me that could get me to jail, and I know shit about you that you don’t just show to everyone. Involuntarily, but I know that stuff,” he starts, tone of voice almost careful, almost a little caring as he speaks. “You and I both know you need money. And me? Well… I could use some cash too,” he hums.

When he doesn’t get a reply, he continues with his little speech. “You need money and I have a plan on how I’m gonna get it for you. For us. But it will only work if us two do it together. It’s a foolproof plan, but I need you on-board,” he says, clasping his hands together. Glancing up from your paper, you watch him with examining eyes. 

He repays you with eye contact, as if speaking to you through his orbs. There’s a hint of understatement in the air, an aura of a connection you don’t quite comprehend yet, but suddenly, the presence of him in your personal space feels less invading and more… alleviating. Like you’re not judged, like you’re not pitied. 

Your stomach churns and Changmin chuckles, offering the sandwich back to you. There’s a moment in which you contemplate your next decision, knowing that if you take the food from him, it’s your own way of sealing the deal. You have no idea what his plan is, you’re completely unaware of what you’re getting yourself into– for all you know and predict, it’s not going to be the most legal thing under the sun– but the more you think about it, the more you come to the conclusion that with the way your life is going right now, maybe you don’t have that much to lose.

“So? What do you say?” he asks, eyes lighting up when he notices your lack of resistance. “Will you at least hear me out?”

The wind makes his raven bangs move, revealing his forehead. He looks like he has a thousand tricks up his sleeve, hundreds of ways to get his way, no matter what he wants. He looks as sly as a fox, messy exterior with his tie loose around his neck, dress shirt a little wrinkly around the collar. Ji Changmin looks like he’s bad news. Like he can never bring you any good. 

You should stay away.

Still, you take the sandwich into your grasp, hand fishing for the food in the green plastic bag. Biting down into the seemingly homemade lunch, you avert your gaze into the sun. 

“What is it, then?”

“So.. what do you do for work?” you ask, twirling a strand of hair around your finger as you sit facing the man you don’t even remember the name of, a plate of fancy food in front of you almost untouched even though you’ve been starving for multiple days now. Truth is, you don’t really know which fork and which size of spoon to use when having those meals, since you’ve never been to such an expensive-looking place before– and even though you think your current date doesn’t really mind, you don’t feel like adding public humiliation to the list of your worries.

“Oh, I do real estate, honey,” the man replies, smiling at you with something sly in his eyes. Everything about the male sitting currently in front of you irks you a bit. The very obvious power imbalance in between the two of you, the age difference, the different social class… The fact that he only sees you as a young girl to spoil and get to do something more for him– no matter the fact that you’re underage. Judging by the way he kept getting into your personal bubble the moment you arrived at the restaurant, you’d even say he was enjoying the fact. 

You were told to act gullible and stupid. Men like him like that, apparently, and so, despite your best judgment and everything you know about life, you do just that. “And what is that?” you ask, eyes big and curious, putting on your most innocent face.

“Buying land and then turning them over, renting places, all kind of stuff,” he nods, “a lot of money gets around in this sphere, sweetie,” he adds another sugary nickname to the mix, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up all alert, disgust slowly creeping up your neck, but thankfully never reaching your mouth.

“So you’re a landlord?” you ask him, the last remains of your personality shining through as you bat your eyelashes at him, trying hard not to focus on the chest hair peeking out of his opened dress shirt. It’s quite difficult to do when the golden chain around his neck blinds you with every movement, the surface illuminating in the beams of the sunlight. 

God. You should’ve chosen a more attractive male to trick, at least.

The male laughs in shock, not really anticipating such a title. Maybe he’s offended, but still, he doesn’t let it show as he looks you over– mainly your cleavage and the girly way you managed to style your hair today– before he sighs, as if disappointed, yet happy to show you that you were wrong. “Not really, no. I’m a real estate investor, actually.”

Gasping, showing that you now completely understand what he’s trying to explain to you– that he’s basically a landlord, but hates being called that because it isn’t such a fancy title– you take another sip of the champagne in your glass. You’ve never drank before, and quite frankly, you hate the taste of alcohol on your tongue, you despise it with everything in you. If it was your choice, you would’ve ordered orange juice, or something– it seems that the man in front of you would hate nothing more than if you sat in front of him without a tall glass in between your fingers, and so you satisfy his sly looks and leave a lipstick stain on the rim of the champagne flute.

The breeze plays with your hair, sun kissing your exposed shoulders as you bathe in its light. You wore your prettiest sundress today– the one that you only grew into this year after inheriting it from your older cousin– and while you did feel pretty when you looked at yourself in the mirror, you’re not really satisfied with what you’re currently doing. Nothing makes you hate yourself more than working for money like this. Nothing makes you loathe your reflection in the mirror more than hanging out with old rich guys for monetary gain– no matter how beautiful you feel with the dress you got from your cousin three Christmases ago and the sandals you’ve owned since 15 and had thankfully not yet grown out of.

There’s one advantage to sitting outside of the fancy restaurant, though– and that is the fact that your plan is going smoothly. The man’s bag is on the chair next to him, just like Changmin predicted, and although it took you some time convincing him to sit at the table on the edge of the veranda, you’ve done your part in entertaining the male, making sure he’s as distracted as he can be.

Eyes averting to the right, seeing your accomplice with the hood of his black hoodie over his head, a mask over the lower part of his face, you lock gazes in what seems to be some silent kind of communication. One wouldn’t notice him if he hadn’t tried hard enough, but Changmin’s been standing on the other side of the road for as long as you’ve been sitting in the restaurant, keeping an eye on you. He’s dressed all in black, looking all mysterious, but not eye-catching enough for anyone to be suspicious of his presence. 

Raising your eyebrows at him only in the slightest manner, making sure your date doesn’t notice you nonverbally communicating with the teenager on the other side of the street, you get your reply from Changming almost immediately, a nod of his head sent your way to start your little plan.

Ready, yet a little stressed of executing it, you clear your throat and focus all your attention back on the male in front of you again. He’s currently talking to you about something you have yet to grasp, not really interested in the first place– but doubting you’d know what he’s talking about anyway. After hearing a part of his little speech, you conclude that he is mansplaining something to you, and although the fact would make you infuriated with any other male in your presence, you think this is a perfect opportunity to dibble more into your little school girl play. (As if it was a play in the first place.)

Nodding at him, showing that you’re listening, you put on your best doe eyes as you reach over the table and enclose your palm around his. You haven’t watched enough movies about this to know how to flirt with a man, but you think it comes to you naturally as you part your lips the slightest, biting on your lower lip in a sensual manner. It’s inappropriate, not at all something you should be doing at your age with a man at least twice your age, but you can’t help it– if you need the plan to run smoothly, you need all his attention on you and you only.

And it works. It does, you conclude as the man runs his thumbs over your hands and gently pats your leg with his under the table, feeding into your actions. His eyes are focused on your lips and you suddenly pray for Changmin to work quicker– fast enough for the man to not find an opportunity to kiss you, at least. Your brows furrow the tiniest bit, on purpose, of course– to look more dumb, to look more in love and enchanted with the male in front of you– when you notice a figure in black passing the two of you, their hand slipping easily into the opened contraction of the male’s bag.

Changmin works fast. It seems easy to him, you can see it in your peripheral– there’s no wonder that he’s done this countless times before. You wonder why he likes this kind of adrenaline. You wonder how he even taught himself– how he even came to the conclusion that he should try something like this in the first place. Either way, you must admit that it’s kind of admirable. Kind of cool.

You see Changmin taking out something from the man’s bag, and just as silently and unsuspiciously he came, he also disappears. You let the man play with your fingers for a bit more until you’re sure that your partner is a safe distance away from the restaurant on the other side of the street again, before you lock eyes with him, being let off with a victorious crinkle of his eyes.

“Will you excuse me?” you hum, tone of voice laced in sweetness, puckering your lips as you cut the male off, something about an annual turnover hanging in the air as you don’t let him finish. “I have to use the toilet,” you say, already breaking contact with him.

Unsuspecting, the male only nods at you, letting you off. You can almost feel his eyes watching every move of your ass as you walk back to the building. As your feet enter the interior of the fancy place, you don’t even aim for the bathroom– Changmin checked it before you arrived to the restaurant, chewing on his lower lip in distress as he announced to you that there’s no windows in the stalls– and so you take yourself straight to the other side of the room, taking the other exit out. “Look, it’s even easier, Changmin. I’ll just walk out the other way,” you reassured him, concluding the last step of your little plan.

Feet shuffling through the red velvety rug, you pay no attention to the waiters watching you as you walk through the big dining hall, escaping through the other door without looking back. Ji Changmin is standing on the other side of the street, taking off his initial place as soon as he saw you safely inside of the restaurant, waiting for you to rejoin him and celebrate the end of your successfully finished mission.

Running towards him, a smile breaks onto your face. Changmin stays in his place, not going as far as reaching you midway. 

“Did you get it?” you ask, raising your brows at the male.

Wordlessly, the boy shows you a leather wallet, taking it from the right pocket of his zip-up. A gasp escapes your throat at the realization of just how easy this was– just how fast you gained a stack of cash you can use to survive another week. Sure, you still feel a bit weak in your knees, you still feel like your blood pressure is a bit high, but the thought of the green notes soon secured in your hand makes it all worth it.

“Let’s get out of here before he notices,” Changmin says, tugging down his face mask and reaching for your elbow, dragging you to the opposite direction, away from the restaurant.

Somewhere along the way, you start to run. There’s a sense of childlike wonder in you. A sense of excitement you shouldn’t feel from stealing money from someone unsuspecting. Sure, you could argue that the rich person in the restaurant doesn’t need the money like you do– he has enough of it to not even notice its absence– but it was still morally wrong. 

It was still a crime. But hey– you’re only 17 with a seemingly big weight on your shoulders. So if getting the money you need in an illegal way takes some of the pressure off your back, you think you’re not so wrong for being excited about the success of your little plan.

Changmin catches up to you, his face mirroring a weird mix of annoyance and disbelief. He understands, though. The adrenaline of your first act of successful crime is a moment one doesn’t forget. “Wasn’t that hard now, was it?” he asks.

And when you lock your eyes with him again, a foolish laugh escapes your lips. Maybe he was right. Maybe this was the way to go around things.

Maybe it was good to accept his offer. Something about the inkling in his eyes tells you that he won’t betray you. 

Standing in the middle of the aisle, your eyes soaring from the pack of gummy worms you wanted to buy for your little sister and the chocolate bar you’ve been wanting to eat the whole week, you roll the coins in the palm of your hand around, as if counting them over and over again is going to make more money magically appear in your possession. Ji Changmin (who for some reason decided that by being your partner in all things illegal, he has to be glued to your hip at all times when he has nothing interesting to do), standing next to you, sighs at your composure and clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth.

“Y/N, Y/N…” he hums in disapproval, almost sounding disgusted at the fact that the logical thing hasn’t appeared in your brain yet, “I see you need a bit of a lesson in shoplifting, yeah?” he whispers into your ear, his breath hitting the side of your face and making you jolt away from him.

“What?” you whisper-shout, punching him in the shoulder. “Don’t be ridiculous. What we do is already enough. I’ll just pick one,” you say, rolling your eyes at the fact that your new friend always somehow finds a way to make everything an illegal act. It really must be his hobby at this point, no?

“Whatever you say, sweetie,” he shrugs, but the more he watches you move your eyes from the gummy worms towards the chocolate bar, noticing the sparks behind your eyes every time you eye the rich cocoa treat wrapped in red plastic and the fondness behind your gaze when you eye the sour worms, the more he’s convinced that you’re going to go with his previous proposition. Once the temptation is there, it’s hard to resist it.

And he’s right. A mere second later, you eye him with pleading eyes– as if to silently say ‘okay, you win. Now teach me how to do this thing,’, and that has the boy chuckling at your antics.

“Okay, newbie,” he nods, patting your back. “First thing first, the number one rule of shoplifting is: always choose a gas station. Check! Why? Frankly, the people working here are underpaid university students that could care less about the company they work for, so as long as you’re not too obvious with it, nobody is going to run after you.”

Nodding, showing that you’re following, you wait for the actual tutorial. “Step two,” he says, voice loud enough only for you to hear in the empty store, “look casual. Walk around a bit. Pretend you’re contemplating your choice of treats– check. Wow, Y/L/N, it seems to me that you are a born natural!”

Rolling your eyes at his useless comment, you sigh. Changmin seems to get the hint that you want to know how to actually shoplift, and not how to prepare to do the thing, and so with his next tip, he is a bit more specific, which you welcome with open arms. “Okay, okay. So, now you wanna look for the cameras. Try to look for any blind spots,” he says, casually glancing around the store.

You follow his motions, trying hard to stay as unsuspicious as you can, and before you can say anything or try to find the blind spots he was talking about, the serpent-like boy tugs you by your forearm into another corridor. Your hands are now covered by the regals, only the tips of your scalps visible under the security camera, and before you know it, Changmin ushers another order into your ear. 

“Now, take the more expensive thing and put it into your pocket,” he says. That has you pointing a sharp gaze to him, question marks accompanied by exclamation points striking into his skull, which has the boy utter out a quick explanation to your very confused state. “Trust me. Putting it into your bag is way more suspicious,” he hums, looking around the gas station and pointing his gaze towards the energy drink stand in front of you, acting as if he was contemplating on buying one for himself.

Hesitantly glancing behind your shoulder, finding the coast clear, you chew on the inside of your cheek before you swiftly put the pack of gummy worms into your pocket. Clearing your throat to signal to the boy that you’re done with the task at hand, he turns his head to you and raises his brows, smiling. “Are you ready to pay, finally?” he asks, his voice now a little louder. You think it’s to not cause any more suspicion, since the two of you have been murmuring amongst each other for the past few minutes. 

Humming, feeling a buzzing in your fingertips, heart quickening– you’re really doing this– you nod and let your friend lead you to the counter. You’ve tried shoplifting before, of course, but the last time you did so, you were dragged by your hair to the police station, so you think you have all the right to feel the tiniest bit paranoid when trying for the second time. There is stress settling to your shoulders when you awkwardly shuffle to the counter and put the chocolate bar in front of the cashier, but when you notice the fact that Changmin was right and the clark was barely paying attention to the store at all– there was Candy crush turned on their phone behind the POS machine– the nerves seem to fall off a bit.

“Cash or card?” the girl behind the counter asks– she is chewing on a gum and her neon pink hair is falling into her eyes. She seems a few years older than you, but she seems to be still in college. There are dark circles under her eyes– she seems tired. Not letting yourself to shield your next actions with the usual waterfall of empathy, you clear your throat and try to speak up with the most casual voice.

“Cash,” you peep, taking the hurdle of coins back from your pocket– the one that doesn’t currently hold a pack of gummy worms– and quickly count the sum of money you need, putting it onto the counter.

“You need a receipt?” the cashier asks, completely uninterested in her job. You can tell she has this situation rehearsed– she must have been working here for a while.

“No, thank you,” you nod, taking the chocolate bar into your grasp and spinning on your heel, following Changmin on his way outside of the gas station. Before the door closes behind you, the boy heaves out a cheerful ‘Goodbye!’ which has you mirroring his actions, yet your walking still speeds up with the weight of wanting to be outside and done as soon as possible.

You never know. What if she noticed and a policeman will come and catch you at the last minute for stealing those gummy worms? You can’t afford getting a criminal record– this won’t land you any job in the future.

As soon as your figure moves outside of the building and you’re sure you’re not being followed by anyone and there’s no police cars parked in front of the gas station, you feel the weight of the situation finally leave your physical form, your breathing finally becoming more normal. Changmin glances at you over his shoulder, a grin spreading over his features, patting your shoulder like a proud father. 

“See? Wasn’t so hard now, was it?” he asks, having you roll your eyes at him.

“I’m sorry, man,” you snicker, “I still have some PTSD from that one time…”

“It takes a few tries to perfect the art, I get it,” he says, nodding as if to admit your struggle. It’s hard to believe Changmin has ever failed at anything he tried before– in all situations you’ve encountered with him, he seemed completely capable and knowing. It’s as if he’s been doing this his whole life– and for all you know, he might as well have been.

“Well, not everyone takes joy in doing illegal activities like you clearly do,” you sigh, having the boy look at you with furrowed brows.

Unknowingly, you lead the boy towards your house. He doesn’t seem to mind walking with you, and although you did just commit a crime, you’re happy with the comfort of not having any committed against you– a girl in her school uniform walking home in the evening is an easy target for all men who’d love to take advantage of you and fulfill their dark fantasies. It’s funny to admit that you feel safer with Ji Changmin walking you home, but it’s also a natural cause of the fact that you two have been working together on fake dates with rich men for a few weeks now. (So far, you’ve gone on three. They all worked and went by the plan. You suddenly question why you didn’t say yes to this plan earlier.)

“Living in the foster home makes you fight other people over everything, Y/N-ie. Over food, old donated board games, treats, clothing, parents…” he chuckles at that, a bitter tone coating his words, “my point is… If you don’t take what you want forcefully, it will be taken out of your grasp one way or another. And if that piece of candy is stolen from you by an older kid at the foster home, you’re gonna have to find a way to get yourself one as well,” he explains. 

You feel a little embarrassed for assuming. Changmin doesn’t reveal much about himself to you. Neither do you. For this reason, you’d describe your relationship with the raven-haired boy like something similar to being coworkers. You don’t tell each other about your personal lives, you don’t talk about your issues or intentions. All you know is that the both of you need money, so you’re willing to work together to get it.

The sudden confession hangs an uncomfortable air of vulnerability over the two of you. It’s strange– hearing him chuckle so bitterly about his situation, seeing the shift behind his eyes when he realizes what he just said. You don’t really know what to say back to him– do you console him? Do you try to play it off, ignore what he’s just said? Before you have any chance to take action, though, the boy clears his throat and does damage control on his own. (Which is probably for the best. You wouldn’t want to overstep any boundary– so you’ll act according to his.)

“But after a while, it became kind of fun, yeah,” he laughs, shrugging. “I like the adrenaline rush.”

“You’re a freak.”

“A freak with useful tactics,” he points a finger-gun at you and winks, making you roll your eyes at his misplaced pride, but laugh along with him nonetheless.

It’s good to make fun of your situation sometimes. Didn’t someone say humor is one of the most useful coping mechanisms? Or maybe a sign of unhealthy coping mechanisms? Well, one way or another– you have to cope with it some way anyways. A little joke never hurt anyone.

“Half of that is mine, by the way,” he points towards your favorite chocolate bar in your grasp. “I earned it by helping you get it,” he says, content face beaming at you in mischief.

His features are a little sharper under the yellow lampposts, his dark hair falling into his eyes making shadows appear under his eyes. He looks like a cunning fox– much like always– but you think you’re growing used to the charm. “What?” you huff, face scrunched up in frustration. “I bought this, actually, so–”

“So you’re telling me you would’ve chosen the chocolate bar, had I not opened your eyes to the wonders of shoplifting?”

“What does that even have to do with anything–”

“Exactly what I thought,” he nods, taking the chocolate bar out of your grasp and tearing it open, not even sparing you a chance to defend yourself, “if I wasn’t there, you’d buy the gummy worms, so the fact that you bought this is my work and I deserve a half of your treat, thank you very much.”

“How can you even be so sure–”

“Y/N?” a thin voice calls for you, making you stop the little petty argument you’ve been having with your crime partner and look around, noticing both facts of the reality at once– one: you’ve reached your street, and two: your little sister is watching you from the doorway of your house, big eyes worried and hair tousled. 

She’s still wearing the clothes she wore when you sent her off to school in the morning, and by the way she keeps chewing on the inside of her cheek, you know that she hasn’t eaten. She always does that when she’s hungry and doesn’t want you to know. A pit opens up in your stomach at seeing your sibling in such a state, and although it’s not as uncommon as you’d like to say it is, you know you have to put up your big sister act.

“Aerin-ie? Has mum not come home yet?” you ask, watching as the little girl walks out of the house and through the pathway of your house, standing only a few meters away from you.

“No,” she shakes her head. You’re not surprised by the answer. Maybe, you’re not even disappointed anymore. You learned not to have any expectations when it comes to your mother.

Sighing, you nod, chewing on your lower lip. “Go inside, we’ll eat something together and then you’re going to sleep, you have school tomorrow, okay?” you hum, tone of voice compassionate and gentle, the way you always talk to your sister ever since the issues started. There is no room for quarrel between siblings when you’re too busy making sure your little sister is eating well and going to school. There’s no room for sibling fights when you’re more of a motherly figure now.

“Okay,” she nods, but doesn’t move from her spot in the middle of the yard.

“Well? Go–”

“Is that your boyfriend?” Aerin asks, pointing towards Changmin. You momentarily forgot that he was still here, so when you finally take in his silently standing figure, it almost makes you jump. Waving your hands around in panic, not wanting your young, gullible sister to get any ideas, you eagerly try to take her out of her lapse of judgment.

“God, no. No, no, that’s–”

“Hi! I’m Changmin!” the boy suddenly waves, smiling at your little sister. “I go to school with your sister.”

Aerin watches the boy with big eyes, as if scared. You understand her– Changmin doesn’t seem as the most approachable of people (although his smile does feel unusually warm and contagious right in this moment)– and she didn’t have much experience with male figures in her life to feel secure with any new men entering her life. Not that Changmin will be entering her life anyway– but you get the gist of it.

“You do?” she hesitantly asks.

“I do. Tell her to study more, because if she keeps it up this way, she’s going to have to go back to school with you and retake all the lessons for smaller kids,” Changmin hums, poking fun at you. 

“Hey!” you thunder, kicking the boy into his shin in a weak attempt of defending yourself. “That’s not true!” 

Hearing your sister laugh at your misery– an action you never thought would warm your heart up so much– you lock your eyes with Changmin only for a split second, and in that, you come to some sort of mutual understanding. You talk without words– you learned something about me today, I learned something about you today. Your secret is safe with me. 

He doesn’t know the full truth of it all– quite as much as you don’t know about his life, but somehow, this evening brought you two a little closer. You moved from being coworkers to now being coworkers who know more backstory about each other’s lives, and you don’t really find yourself hating it.

“Y/N got something for you,” Changmin muses, pointing a finger to your pocket. 

Somehow, he has it all figured out.

“Oh, right!” you gasp, taking the gummy worms out of your jacket and offering them to your little sister. Her eyes light up instantly, that kind of joy you only feel when you are 12 and presented with your favorite treat, and you get a solemn feeling on your insides comforting you– you’re doing all you can. She’s smiling. She’s still mostly unknowing.

“I heard they’re your favorite,” Changmin keeps talking to your sister. It’s a surprising sight– how welcoming he suddenly seems.

“They are! Y/N, can I have some?”

“After you eat dinner,” you nod, seeing the little girl furrowing her brows and opening her mouth to protest, a sense of blissful normality shielding you all from reality. 

“But–”

“After dinner, Aerin. Now let’s go inside so you can sleep,” you hum, walking over to your sister, “you get fussy in the morning when you don’t get enough sleep.”

Something about your hand on her shoulder has the little creature moving closer towards your house, the two of you walking alongside each other through the pathway. Looking behind, you wave at Changmin. He offers you a gentle smile– one you haven’t seen on him before. It moves something within you. 

He doesn’t know much, but somehow, he understands.

Before you close the door behind you, you mouth him a silent ‘Thank you’. The boy salutes you before he disappears into the dark.

“Do you want some lemonade or something?” you hum as you enter your house, tugging uncomfortably at the hem of your short skirt, throwing the knock-off purse Changmin got you from the donation bins at the foster home into the corner of the entrance hall. It’s midday, you are supposed to be at school and having your lunch break, but instead, you’re tiredly slugging home with your classmate tailing your back, done with yet another date.

“I’m good,” Changmin shrugs, “I’ll just have some water.”

“Amazing choice,” you nod, pointing towards the tap in your cluttered kitchen, “didn’t feel like making you a fucking lemonade anyway,” you sigh, watching as the boy helps himself to a glass of tap water and you get yourself a taste of the old coffee your mother must have made herself in the morning before leaving, furrowing your brows at the bitter taste.

After you’re done chasing down the thirst that’s accumulated in your throat, you walk upstairs into your room, followed around by the boy. There was a silent agreement between the two of you to let him stay over at least until the acceptable time to come back into foster home was– if he came before school ended, he’d get in trouble. (You wonder why he’s afraid of this and not the fact that he was dragged from the police station multiple times, but you choose to not question him anymore.)

It’s strange to have him in your house. It doesn’t make you uncomfortable, per se– you just wonder how much your living conditions say about you. It’s very clear that you don’t live with your father. He left shortly after your little sister was born and you haven’t seen him since– you wish you could say you don’t mind, because you never really had a good relationship with him anyway, but the truth is, maybe he was the whole reason for the downfall of your quality of life. The mess all around the house suggests that nobody has time or energy to clean it. You try your hardest to keep it relatively clean on most days, but it gets significantly harder when you also try to bring food home into the house. 

If Changmin makes anything out of the state of your living, he doesn’t mention it.

Settling into the mattress of your bed, totally uninvited, he squints at your ceiling. You, on the other hand, turn towards your wardrobe and take out some comfy clothes– the preppy mini skirt you were dressed in before you left to meet up with another rich old guy was starting to get on your nerves. Turning your back to Changmin, you slip your blouse over your head and put on a big T-shirt, one of the clothes you got at the Dollar store when you grew out of your last pajamas, and after you dress yourself in comfortable sweatpants, you walk up to the boy with an outstretched hand.

A mutual understanding falls over you as he puts the leather wallet into your hand. Opening it, you flick through several credit cards, squinting at the owner’s ID– by the birth year on the card, you calculate that he was even older than he told you he was– before you count up the money and cut it in half, throwing the rest into Changmin’s lap. 

The more often you do this, the more you wonder how it keeps working. It’s surprising to see just how many wealthy men are carrying cash around and being reckless with their belongings. Changmin almost never has any trouble with stealing their wallets– either when they’re not looking, or when the man foolishly leaves to the bathroom and leaves his bag behind on the chair. It’s like they’re inviting you to do it, at this point.

The more often you do this, the more you start hating yourself, though. There’s only so much objectifying you willingly submit yourself to before it makes you want to crawl out of your skin. If there was a better way to do things, you would. 

Sighing, you open your sock drawer and sit cross-legged on the floor. Taking out the sock balls and unraveling the items of clothing onto your thigh, putting bills into them and rolling them back into neat balls, throwing them back into their designated place very un-Marie Condo style, you hear Changmin ask a question after minutes of watching you in silence.

“What do you need all this money for, by the way?” he asks. “Except for keeping your sister alive, of course.”

The question has you halting your movements, looking up at the male with a blank look. You two never discuss deep things– you two never talk about your lives and the reasoning behind your actions. You just do things and don’t think of consequences– you just get as much money as you can without telling the other one what you need it for. 

Locking your eyes with him, you shrug. There’s a hint of understatement behind his orbs that shows you that maybe you can trust him. Maybe him knowing isn’t that bad– what could he possibly do with the information? You two know about each other’s crimes far too much to betray each other, you think.

“I… my family… we have debts,” you say, nodding to yourself. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you chuckle before speaking up again. “My dad left shortly after my sister was born and then we couldn’t really afford paying for the house anymore. My mum refused to move, though, so she got another loan to cover the previous one, but it’s…” you drift off, remembering the day you found out the harsh truth only a few months ago.

You hear your mother’s sobs as you walk into the house after your classes, making your heart drop to your stomach. It’s not every day you hear your mother cry, since she tries hard to pretend everything is okay even though it’s not– and the empty bottles of alcohol waiting by the trash can every day are the clear sign of both that and her not really handling it well. This feels different, though. The crying doesn’t sound like someone pitying themselves once again– the crying sounds like someone in such a deep despair, hopeless and lost.

Socked feet shuffling through the house as you take your shoes off at the door, you find your mother crouching above the kitchen table, a glass in her hand. There’s a sheet of paper staring back at her from the void, the scene almost appearing in front of you in grayscale. You didn’t expect your life to change so much in such a simple afternoon. You didn’t expect to grow up with a click of a finger.

“What happened?” you ask, carefully approaching the wounded animal of your mother. You learned quickly after she picked up drinking that you need to handle the fragile woman with care. A bad word and she could break– an incorrectly crafted sentence and she could turn into a volcano, erupting with screams and swearing, cursing you out.

No answer reaches your ears, though, so your only resolve is to take the paper into your hands and read it over. And now, you’re no expert in legal things and contracts, but it doesn’t take a lot of knowledge to recognise a loan contract. It’s a company you don’t know, though– one of the not famous ones, one of the fishy ones that give you the money quickly– and before you even get a chance to read over the fine print at the bottom of the page, you already know you’re in deep, deep trouble.

The knowledge of trouble only intensifies when you come home to strange men escaping your house one day. There are no groceries in the fridge for a few days after, making it vastly clear to you that your mother simply couldn’t afford to get food for her kids to eat. 

It only takes one crying fit and an argument with your mother to find out the harsh reality– your mother fell for a loan that is too difficult to handle, one that makes you pay back fast and with big amounts monthly. She already had a warning. 

If she is late with her payment again, you lose everything.

“It’s… it’s difficult to pay it back,” you conclude, watching as Changmin only nods in understatement. The air around you is suddenly too heavy, but you figure the whole truth won’t hurt anyone. Maybe the weight on your shoulders would feel lighter if you finally tell someone– however selfish the sentiment feels. “If we don’t pay it back within the next few months, we will lose our house. My mother fell for a loan shark,” you say.

“All the years of her telling us to not fall for scams, and then she does this,” you mumble, trying to make fun of the situation. 

“Y/N, that’s–”

“I was also thinking of leaving one day,” you add as you cut him off, not letting him psychoanalyze you or make you feel like he pities you. “I was thinking of getting enough money to settle all of this and then just… move out. Disappear. I need to get away from this house before it suffocates me,” you bitterly laugh, seeing the boy shift his eyes from the ceiling back at you, pressing his lips into a tight line.

“I get you,” leaves his mouth after a heartbeat of silence. Never in your life have you feared being judged as much as in this moment. It’s strange to face your biggest fear– being vulnerable with someone, opening up to them about everything you’re going through– and find that it wasn’t at all as difficult. It’s strange to face your biggest fear and realize that maybe, you had nothing to be scared of in the first place.

It’s strange to hear that you’re understood. That somebody gets just how hard it is to breathe every day, walking through the house you grew up in, but which is now haunted. If it was anybody else, you’d try to argue with them. How could they understand? How could they possibly know what is going on inside of your head on a daily basis? How could they get the extent of how far you have to go every day just to survive and keep your sister out of the mess, totally unknowing?

Ji Changmin may not know everything about you, he may not be in the same situation, but still; he knows how you feel. Coming from a background like that, you don’t get to keep a lot of freedom either.

“It’s… it’s a work in progress. I don’t really have a plan either, I just… I just know I need to save up enough to sort things out, move out and leave everything behind. I can’t… I can’t keep doing this forever, y’know,” you shrug, snickering to yourself.

Changmin hums in understatement, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He looks so out of place in the middle of your white sheets, dressed in his all black attire. The contrast of his clothes and the brightness of your laundry cuts through all major parts of your life as well– where there’s anxiety, there’s also Changmin’s ability to turn everything into a joke. Where there’s mess and confusion, there’s Changmin’s calculated plans and thought-out strategies. Where there’s loneliness, there’s also Ji Changmin’s sheer presence next to you during the lunch break. It’s strange, just how quickly you found comfort in the serpent-like boy. It’s unfamiliar. The novelty of it all both scares you and comforts you all at once.

The boy is silent for a while before he speaks up, processing the information. As if knowing that there’s nothing he could really say to make you feel better about the situation– or fearing that anything he could utter out would make it worse– he entrusts you with a secret of his own.

“If I don’t get adopted before I turn 18– which, let’s be real, with my history and everything, won’t happen– I age out of the system and I’m all on my own,” he says, shrugging, “I’ll need money to get on my own feet. To leave, too. Fuck, I need to leave that house and this town. I need to start over somewhere where they won’t know every single thing that happened to me in the past.”

You hadn’t realized just how much your plans align when you first nodded to this agreement. You think it adds a sense of reliability now. Both working towards the same plan, knowing that if you fail, the other’s fate is at stake as well. 

Before this, you didn’t know just how serious it was for Changmin– you didn’t know if he needed the money on reckless spending, on buying drinks and cigarettes to chase down his boredom, or if there was a greater sense of ironical responsibility behind it all. Knowing that there’s so much on the table, so much of both of your future’s that are at risk if you don’t try your hardest to make your lives better– because no one else in the whole world will help you, it seems– brings a greater sense of alliance hang in the air between the two of you.

Shared secrets, plans, view of life. Shared responsibilities, burdens, desperation. That bonds two people like nothing else does.

“You can count on me, Y/N,” Changmin hums, tone of voice barely louder than a whisper. Your eyes don’t meet in the confidentiality of it all, but your heart still squeezes on itself. “I’ll get us out of this town even if it’s the last thing I do.”

The low murmur of the school cafeteria lands into your ears as you stand in the line for food, Changmin’s tall figure in front of you turning to face you, an annoyed sigh heaving out of his throat. “Now I remember why I never fucking go to this place.”

“Oh, right,” you nod, shrugging to yourself as if to show your absolute fury with the fact that you’ve been standing in the line for more than 10 minutes now, a third of your lunch break already passing by like a flash, “it was never because I was too broke. The line was always the problem.”

The male in front of you snickers at your ironic remark. You’re convinced you could count the amount of times you’ve been to the school cafeteria to buy lunch on the fingers of one hand. Most of the time, you take whatever remains of food you can find at home with you. Lunch money is reserved for your little sister only– and even that is on special occasions. Usually, you try to buy her the cheapest things you can find at the store downtown– the retailed bread that’s too old to sell at original price now, but still fresh enough to eat– but when you figure you have enough money in the week to spend, you give her enough to buy lunch at school. For you, buying your own warm lunch at school feels like a holiday. You’ve lived through more Christmases than cafeteria lunches, you think.

“Starting to doubt if it’s even worth it anyway,” Changmin fusses, folding his hands at his chest. You don’t think you’ve ever met a more impatient person than him. If things take too long, he gives up on them– like the line in the grocery store the other day. You made the mistake of inviting him to buy groceries with you, but when he realized the self-checkout lines were too long, he just carried your groceries out without paying, grinning at your shocked face the moment you unsuspectedly got out of the store. ‘It’s okay to steal from big corporations,’ he justified. ‘They won’t feel the loss.’

“Changmin, this is my first time buying lunch this year,” you sigh, “have some patience. Of course it’s worth it– it’s a celebration of our hard work.”

“Does this feel satisfactory?” he doubts, pointing a thumb behind him to show the line in front of you two– which, just by the way, moved a ton, meaning it’s gonna be your turn soon. 

“Not yet,” you admit, chuckling to yourself, “but the feeling will come once I bite into the soggy, half-cold pizza. Trust,” you point a finger to him and poke him in his stomach, that has, just by the way, growled in hunger three times since you’ve taken your place in the line for food.

“Of course you chose to get lunch on pizza day…”

“What do you have me for?” you scoff. “I have some culture.”

“Says the person who hasn’t seen Train to Busan before. Girl, you’re the farthest thing from cultured, trust me.”

“You call Train to Busan our national treasure?” you ask, blinking at the boy in pure confusion. You don’t trust a man like Ji Changmin to be the film critic of modern age, to be fair, but you think even this opinion is quite far-stretched.

Changmin furrows his brows at you, clicking his tongue. “You’re only saying that because you haven’t seen the movie.”

“Well, I haven’t been given the opportunity to watch it, so I don’t see how that’s my problem.”

The line finally moves and lets you two get your lunch. The lady behind the counter looks even less pleasant than you remember her– with more gray hair and a more tired expression on her face– and the food isn’t much either even by looking at it. Still, you feel a sense of satisfaction run through your veins when you look at the sad-looking plate. You earned this pizza. This soggy, bad, a little shoe sole-looking pizza. You put a lot of effort into buying this plate, and although it doesn’t necessarily represent the determination, at least it represents the morality of your earned money– and you know what, at the end of the day, you think that’s fair.

Walking away to one of the empty tables in the cafeteria, carrying your tray in both of your hands and following Changmin’s lead, you feel your stomach churn at the image of the pizza on your plate. It sure doesn’t look great, but it looks edible– you still consider it to be a reward.

However, before you get a chance to sit down and bite into the meal, your side suddenly comes in contact with something firm, yet soft, the impact of the hit making you stumble and fall over to the hard linoleum. The tray of food you’ve had in your hands is knocked out of your grasp, falling to the ground with a loud noise, and the force in which you hit the floor makes your butt sting in pain. The moment comes by like a blur, and before you even get a chance to register what happened, a train of apologies lands into your ears.

“Oh my god, Y/N, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to–” a boy a little shorter than Changmin (that’s just standing by your side, looking a little taken-aback, but still uninterested in the commotion, not at all trying to help you out), stutters out. You recognise him to be your classmate Eric Sohn– one of the people you’ve never really spoken to before, because you had no reason to do so. He is a loud extrovert, a people person, a bundle of never ending energy. He’s charismatic, but not someone you would find yourself hanging out with (not that you really hang out with anyone other than the criminal by your side anyway)– and a little inkling in your brain tells you that one of the reasons for this fact is Eric’s high social status. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, offering you his hand to bring you back up to your feet.

Wincing in pain as you take his grasp and get back into a standing position, you wonder if he was running– there was no way the sheer force of him walking would send you to the ground. Once you take a closer look at the boy, you notice his blushing cheeks and an incredibly guilty look on his face, notifying you of the fact that you haven’t replied to him yet, still too shocked by the events. “I’m okay, yeah,” you nod, eyes shifting to the plate on the ground. It didn’t break, but your pizza slice is very visibly on the ground– and no matter how desperate you are for food right now, you consider it too contaminated to be eaten.

“I am so sorry, Y/N, I wasn’t looking where I was going– oh god, your uniform is all dirty,” he points to your white button-down, now stained with the last remains of the soup that was seemingly in one of the plates your classmate was carrying.

“It’s… it’s okay–”

“I’ll pay for you to get it dry cleaned!” he stammers, eyes wide and bangs falling into his eyes, the boyish, panicked aura around him making you feel kind of bad for him. Which is strange– you are the one in pain and without lunch now. Not him.

“No, really, it’s okay, Eric… It was an accident–”

“And your lunch is ruined! God,” he grunts, scrambling to pick up all the dishes from the floor, cleaning up the mess. “I’ll get you a new one. Just… wait here, I’ll be right back!” the boy assures you, running off with the trays and plates, aiming for the area designated for discarding them. 

Like in a trance, you take a seat at the table, following Changmin. Scratching the back of your neck, you sigh and aimlessly stare at your companion, watching as he eats his pizza. Casually speaking the fact into existence, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, the male decides to make you choke at his words. 

“You should get on that, Y/N,” he notes, snickering.

“Huh?” 

“You know what I mean. Man’s rich as fuck, Y/N,” he says as he swallows down the bite, shrugging. “He’d fit perfectly into your little plan,” Changmin schemes, pointing a finger at your face.

“Stop being ridiculous,” you grunt, “why would I do that? He doesn’t even like me, so–”

“Oh, as if,” Changmin rolls his eyes, speaking with his mouth full, “he looked at you as if you were Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N. He clearly has a crush on you. And, respectfully, any man would want to get with someone like you– why do you think our plan is working so well? You’re hot enough, that’s why,” he shrugs, making you blink at the male in surprise.

Hot enough? Did Ji Changmin just call you hot? You’d rather not focus on that part of the exchange.

“Shut up, Changmin,” you sigh, “besides, I’m not doing that to him.”

“Why not? I thought our motto was ‘eat the rich’, no?” 

“Yeah,” you grunt, nodding to the boy, tone of voice ironic, showing him just how stupid he sounds right in this moment, “but it’s ‘eat the icky old rich men’, not ‘eat unsuspecting, innocent rich’, Changmin. Got it?”

“You’re missing out on–”

“I said no,” you cut him off, pointing a finger right in the middle of his forehead. Something about your authoritative tone gets the point across, making the boy sigh.

“Jeez, okay, if you really say so…”

Opening your mouth to continue on with the sentiment, you’re quickly cut off by Eric’s voice coming from beside you, the boy suddenly appearing at your table. “Here,” he says, a bashful look on his face as he puts the tray in front of you, two slices of pizza and a box of orange juice settled on the red plastic dish, “I’m really sorry again! And…” he starts, scratching the back of his neck, “and here is my number, so if you want me to… uh… pay for the cleaning of that, or whatever, just… let me know, okay?” he smiles awkwardly, pointing to a piece of paper settled under the juice box, having you blink up at him in surprise.

Before you get a chance to protest, Eric pays you two his goodbyes and rushes out of the cafeteria, cheeks red and an expression a little alarmed. You’re not an expert in body language, but the more you think about it, the clearer it gets. 

Ji Changmin is right. Eric Sohn does clearly have a crush on you. 

If that even means anything…

The house is silent. Your naked feet clad through your room as you open your drawer, fingers reaching for the soft fabric of your socks. It’s gotten a bit chilly, so you automatically go and try to warm yourself up with one of your thick garments. Fingers unraveling the sock ball, prepared to find dollar bills inside– already knowing you’ll take a part of it and give it to your sister in the morning so she can get some lunch at school– a momentarily shock washes over you when you find the sock ball empty.

Confused, you furrow your brows and check the insides of the socks. You remember very clearly that you put some of your money into this specific pair just a few days ago. 

Or maybe you didn’t… You’ve been tired the last few days. You could be remembering it wrong. Maybe this particular sock ball didn’t have money in it in the first place.

Still, you reach for another sock ball, hands a little shaky as you look through it. When you notice the lack of bills inside, your heart starts hammering against your chest, sweat appearing on your forehead. Searching through another one and another one and another one, you find all sock balls empty. There is no money where you hid it. It’s all gone.

Thousands of won gone. Vanished. Nowhere to be found.

Where could they go? Who could’ve taken them? 

In the few seconds that pass before the fact that all of your money is nowhere to be seen fully settles into your brain, your feet react on themselves and drag you out of the comfort of your room, making you jog downstairs. Reaching the living room, finding your mother laying on the sofa with a bottle of rum next to her on the ground, you feel the amount of patience you’ve had with her slowly overflowing, frustration taking its deserved place in your body as you scream at her sleeping figure.

“Did you take my money?” you yell, watching as your mother slowly opens her eyes at you and blinks in confusion, the alcohol haze around her stinking and making you sick to your stomach. The woman looks at you with zero ounces of sympathy behind her eyes, no words escaping from between her lips as she continues to wordlessly stare at you.

“Mum! Did you take my money?” you scream, clenching your hands into a fist, chewing on your bottom lip in frustration.

“I needed the money,” she says, a groggy voice cutting through the silent house.

Running your hand through your hair, an amused chuckle leaves your throat. “Did you use it all? Is it all gone?”

“I needed it,” she only adds, turning on her side and proceeding to ignore you, which makes fury hammer against your chest with more force than ever before.

“You needed the money. You needed it,” you laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “For what, mum? You needed the money to give to Aerin so she could have lunch? You needed the money to buy groceries? To pay for the bills when a man comes to our house and tells me we haven’t paid enough for our electricity bill? You needed the money for all of that, right?” you chuckle, frustration making you kick your foot against the side of the couch. 

“Or did you need the money to buy alcohol, mum? Is that what you needed it for? Is that more important?” you bite, watching as your mother looks at you with stern eyes, the words finally entering her bubble and getting to her heart.

“Don’t speak to me like that. I am your mother.”

“You’re only my mother when you want to scold me!” you yell back, your words resonating through the silence. “Why won’t you be my mother when I need to feed my sister? When I need to take care of the house? Why aren’t you my mother when I need you?!” you scream, a sob involuntarily dragging out of your throat as you finally verbalize the words you’ve been biting back since this whole situation arised. 

“I brought you to this life. I raised you!” she screams back, merciless words stabbing you in the back like daggers coming for your heart. “So when I say I needed the money, I have every right to take it!”

“Do you?!” you argue. “Do you. Did you earn that money, mum? Because the last time I checked, you got fired and the only person trying to keep this family afloat is me!” you scream, watching as your mother sits up in her place, a tired sigh escaping her throat.

“Don’t you dare yell at me!” she gestures with her hand. 

“Well, then don’t take what’s not yours! Because now, I’ll have to work my ass of to get all of that back, because you won’t try to get your fucking life together–”

“Don’t swear at me,” your mother drags out, tone of voice stone cold and serious. It sends chills down your spine, a teardrop trail down your cheekbone and towards your jaw. You have a staring contest with your mother, one in which you question just how much impact your argument has on her– if she recognises the fury and anger and translates it as grief, just like your insides have been doing for so long now. 

Behind her glossy eyes, there’s not much for you to read, though. You lost that ability a long time ago. It’s one of the things you mourn the most.

“Y/N?” you hear a small voice call from behind you. It has you snap your head around and watch your sister shrinking away in the doorway behind you, holding on to the wall. Aerin’s eyes are glossy and scared, shaking from you to your mother, her little face morphed in anxiety as she chews on her bottom lip in nerves.

That has your fury dissolving– at least on the outside. You can’t afford to fail at protecting your sister from everything. Wiping your own tears harshly, you clear your throat and move to her hunched-over body, placing a comforting palm on her back, leading her upstairs to her bedroom.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” you hum groggily, sniffling on your way to the top of the stairs, “it’s okay. Me and mum just didn’t… we had a bit of an argument, but it’s nothing to worry about.”

As you cover up your sister with the duvet on her bed, she looks at you with watery eyes, a little voice shaking as she inquires. “We don’t have money?”

“Of course we do, dummy,” you snicker, shaking your head. “We do. Don’t you worry, Aerin-ie. I’ll take care of everything, yeah? Get those worries out of your head.”

“But you said–”

“Let the adults deal with this, yeah? It’s gonna be fine.”

“But you’re not even an adult yet,” Aerin furrows her brows, restless eyes not closing as she tries to wrap her head around the situation. No child ever should worry about things like this. And she’s right– you’re not an adult yet either, but as the older one of you, you think it’s your responsibility to take care of things. Just because you can’t afford to not worry about your situation doesn’t mean you will let your sister down and drag her with you.

“That’s right,” you sniffle, laughing airly as you rub her upper arm through the fabric of the duvet, “so that means I can still share a bed with you, yeah?” you force a smile to your lips, watching as your sister nods and scoots over in her place, letting you hug her from the side and snuggle into the warmth of her sheets.

“Everything will be alright,” you whisper into her ear, trying hard to provide her head with some distraction.

It’s kind of ironic, if you really think about it. Both of your parents failed you, but you were only truly hit with the reality of your mother’s betrayal. Who is your father if not the first man to ever disappoint you, right? You came to peace with the fact a few weeks after he left for good– you thought you didn’t need him. You could be good without him.

It seems like your mother needed him more than anything, though. Sometimes, you wish she chose her children instead.

Holding your little sister to your chest, you decide to do everything to protect her. You’d do anything it takes if it means she won’t have to worry about her future. If that’s your responsibility, then so be it– you are more than willing to carry it.

“I don’t think this looks right,” you mumble as you stare at your reflection in the mirror, furrowed eyebrows on full display as the girl staring back at you doesn’t look half similar to how she usually appears. 

You’re wearing a skirt you bought from your savings last month– wanting to treat yourself to something nice– and a cropped shirt that shoves a trace of your skin in the midriff. You’re wearing your old shoes that admittedly throw off the whole look a little– but you don’t have anything else to wear, so that’s what you’re going with. The outfit wouldn’t be the strangest thing about your appearance today– although you’re not the one to wear skirts casually, with the only exception being your school uniform.

The thing that is throwing you off the most about your apparel is the coat of makeup on your face. You and Changmin walked into a drugstore after your classes were over, trying your hardest to make you look the most enchanting you can. You did your makeup with the testers, going through three different lipstick choices before your companion was satisfied, and only when you finally escaped the fluorescent lights of the store and looked at yourself in the daylight is when you realize just how different your face looks to its usual.

“It does,” Changmin shakes his head, standing up from his place on your bed and walking over to your figure, prompting a finger below your chin to angle your head a little, staring at you from up close. His eyes glaze over your skin, making your throat dry out from being so closely examined. “You look different, but it doesn’t look bad.”

“It doesn’t look good either,” you sigh, escaping his gaze and turning around in your place, watching yourself in the mirror once again. The male leans against the desk behind him, communicating from your behind.

A sigh escapes Changmin’s throat at your words, rolling his eyes. “Be serious for once. You look good.”

“My face is all cakey,” you frown.

“You only notice when you see it from up close,” Changmin says, “and I don’t think Eric’s gonna look at you from up close. He’d shit his pants.”

“You’re not helping.”

“That’s because you won’t let me help,” he grunts. “No matter how many times I tell you that you look good won’t change the fact that you won’t admit it to yourself.”

“I don’t look like myself.”

“You do!” he runs his hands through his hair, shaking his head in frustration. “You always look pretty, it’s just… today you look like you put more effort into your appearance,” Changmin huffs, his voice growing a little more quiet at the end of the sentence. Your eyes meet with his in the full-length mirror, watching as the tips of the boy’s ears tint a pink hue, the warmth spreading to his cheeks at the compliment that just so casually slipped through his lips. “Which– which is good, because you wanna look like you put effort into a date with a rich boy, y’know?” he adds, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

His words comfort you a bit. Trying hard not to meet his gaze in the mirror– because you suddenly feel a bit bashful under his gaze– you nod to yourself and focus on the hem of your skirt for the thousandth time, making sure it fits right against your skin. “How does one act on a date? I’ve never been on one.”

“You go on dates every week,” Changmin snickers.

“I meant real dates. The dates you have with people your age,” you roll your eyes, watching as the boy cheeses and shrugs to himself.

“Well,” he starts, “he already likes you. Like, a lot. So making him fall for you won’t be a problem, because I’m quite certain it already happened.”

His words have you feeling a little bad for Eric Sohn. He’s just an unsuspecting teenager that just so happens to be born into a rich family. He likes you– quite obviously so– and you’re going to break all the trust he has in you and use him for your own personal gain. It’s not morally good to do anything like this. You should be ashamed of yourself.

But then again, you think of all the paths you have to take just to survive. You lost a lot of money, and you need to get it back again– and you need to do it fast. 

There’s no time for you to feel bad for Eric. You have to think of your sister first.

“I think you just have to pretend you like him back. Like… listen to him when he talks about boring stuff. Smile a lot– he’ll go crazy over your smile. Don’t be too touchy on the first date, or else it would come off as you being too eager, but if you manage to get a casual touch in without being too clingy, that’s bonus points,” Changmin hums, listing off all advice he can think of.

“Just be yourself, honestly. You have the guy wrapped around your finger anyway,” Changmin shrugs. “Let him pay for everything. Abuse the power you hold, Y/L/N.”

Nodding to yourself, you take a mental note of everything Changmin told you. “I don’t think it’s really fair to him, still.”

“Well, when was ever life fair to you?” he asks, tone of voice suddenly more sincere, more tender than the usual way he speaks to you. It has your eyes meeting again in the mirror, an unspoken understatement making you feel a tinge of bittersweetness in your insides, your gaze communicating the words you can’t quite materialize into existence.

The eye contact is broken as the male stands up from his place and pokes your exposed midriff with his finger, laughing at seeing you squirm before he dives into your bed sheets once again, a muffled yell sent your way from the cushion of your pillow.

“Go get him, tiger!”

“Why don’t we finish this at my place?” the man– you think his name was Baekho– asks you with a suggestive smile on his face after he pays for your dinner. 

This man was particularly hard to get to. He seemed smarter than the others– keeping his belongings close to himself, paying more attention to his surroundings. You and Changmin didn’t manage to go along with your initial plan, which made you tense on the inside as it was– his suggestion only made your heart drum harder against your ribcage, the self-preservation instinct within you telling you to run.

“I am actually not really feeling well, so I’ll head home,” you nod, a stern smile fighting its place onto your lips. 

“Don’t be silly,” the male opposes, shaking his head at you like you would at a child when it does something wrong and you can’t believe a human like that will someday grow into a fully functioning adult, “the night is still young, baby.”

Standing up from your place, following his motions, you turn your head sharply around and send a look full of worry to your companion. Changmin raises his eyebrows at you in question, but for the sake of your secrecy, you don’t pay him much of an answer in fear of where an explicit call for help would lead you. 

“Thank you so much for the dinner, really,” you try to seem welcoming, you try to play it off and put up a nonchalant facade, smiling at the man that towers over you, “but I really should get going.”

“Let me give you a ride home, then,” he insists, glazing your elbow with his hand, making you shudder at the action, acid hunting your tongue.

“That won’t be necessary, I don’t live far–”

“Oh, don’t be stupid. Let me show you my car,” the male grunts, harshly gripping your elbow and dragging you away from the restaurant.

One of the biggest mistakes you made today was the fact that you chose to meet with this man in the evening. Most of the dates you go on happen in the afternoon, providing you with more sense of safety– you should’ve known that this gathering would end differently to all the other ones you’ve been to. You get dragged away into one of the poorly-lit alleys, no cars in sight, and you swear you can feel the imprint of his hand burning on your skin.

“Please, let me go so I can–”

“So you think you can just go on a date with someone like me, bribe me to buy you dinner, and then leave me nothing in return? That’s not how it works around here, sweetheart,” the male grits through his teeth, dragging you along the alley despite you trying to wrestle your way out of his grip.

He’s stronger than you, and he’s taking that into advantage. The danger in your chest hammers stronger than any time before, alerting you of the fact that if a miracle doesn’t happen, you’re going to either die tonight, or be marked by the events of this date forever. Oh, what a foolish idea it was to go along with this. You should’ve known this was bound to end in a disaster from how well it’s been going since the start.

Trying to kick around in the male’s grip, huffing and screaming out– but knowing nobody’s going to hear you in the buzz of the nightlife– you gulp on nothing and try to use all your adrenaline for getting yourself out of the situation. 

“Stop squirming, you know it’s not going to help you–” 

The male suddenly grunts, a wince of pain flashing through his eyes. 

A miracle happens. Ji Changmin with his mask pulled up and his cap down low shielding his face appears in your point of vision, a bloody knife in his hand. When your shaky pupils look around, taking in your surroundings, you notice the man crouching down and holding his leg, growling like a wounded animal. 

Too shocked to do anything yourself, you let Changmin drag you behind him with his arm, shielding you from the man. You faintly notice him launching after your companion, but before he has a chance to fight with him, Changmin puts the knife up, threatening the male. You haven’t seen him fight anyone before– only heard of the quarrels he’s gotten into in the foster home or on the streets– but something about his swift movements and the kicks aimed at your attacker makes you feel a little safer, a tinge of relief flowing through your veins. He looks like he knows what he’s doing. He seems to have the situation at least partially under his control.

“Run!” you hear Changmin yell at you, only paying you attention for a spare second as he looks at you over his shoulder. 

You do as you’re told, but still keep looking back at your savior, watching as he kicks the man into his crotch area and slices the knife against the skin of his upper hand before he stabs him again, the pained groans echoing against the walls of the alleyway. There’s something terrifying about Changmin’s skills, leaving you wondering where he learned all of this– but before you get a chance to ponder on the origins of his self-defense skills any further, you hear his voice calling for the male.

“Don’t follow us, or this will end up worse,” he growls, still threatening the male with the pocket knife. “Try to go after us and I’ll tell the police you’re a pedophile– she’s only 17. You heard me?”

When the male doesn’t give him a reply, Changmin lets out a satisfied snicker. “That’s what I thought.”

Changmin runs up to you and drags you by your hand, tugging you out of the alleyway. The bloody knife is quickly hidden in his pocket as you charge through the streets, making sure you’re as far away from the man as possible. You stumble a little over your feet, making Changmin hold onto your hand a little stronger, dragging you behind a corner of a 24/7 bistro on the end of the street two blocks away, hiding you from the sight of the main road by the shade behind the building.

“Shit, are you okay?” he asks, looking you over with examining eyes. His shaky fingers take ahold of your chin, turning your face around to see any possible damage, letting go only when he’s sure there are no bruises on your cheeks, gripping your shoulders instead, breathing heavily. “Fuck. I’m so sorry,” he sighs out, his composure faltering a little, the contrast between him from a few minutes ago to now so big it leaves you weak in your knees.

“I’m okay,” you nod, barely registering the shakiness of your own voice.

The words have him tugging you close to him, arms wrapping around your body. He holds you as if he’s making sure you’re still there, all intact and alive, a hand sneaking into your hair petting it in an affectionate act you’ve never received from the male in the months you’ve spent working with him. “I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault,” you choke out. The previous sense of danger slowly evaporates out of you, heart relaxing, your brain getting the signal that you’re finally safe and sound. Closing your eyes for a minute, you allow yourself to mold against his figure, foolishly adjusting to the way his grip around you brings you a sense of newly found serenity and calm.

“Kinda is. We’re never doing this again,” he says, and if you tune in with his body hard enough, you feel a slight tremble of his arms. 

“It’s fine, we can–”

“No,” he sighs, “there’s other ways. Safer ones.”

And it’s kind of strange– the way Ji Changmin demonstrates that your safety matters to him more than the money gain you’ve been both chasing after for the past few months. The things you two do to get by are never morally right and never the safest options, but when he lets go of you and holds his face in his hands before giving you a head pat, you know what he means: he’ll rather take the harder way than to leave you so vulnerable ever again.

Your shoes get discarded at the doorstep and your feet are quickly put into the guest slippers that reminds you too much of the ones you see in fancy hotels on the TV– the white, thin footwear you wear only to be polite, since they do nothing to keep your feet comfortable or warm, your heels thudding against the floor with as much force they would’ve if you wore only your socks. Eric takes off your coat and hangs it in the hall, like the true gentleman he was raised to be, and leads you into the house.

The ceilings are high, walls are various shades of white and cream, floors either mirror-like marble or expensive, hard wood. The whole house looks like it was taken out of a furniture catalog or made for one, everything fitting together in a simple, yet polished beauty. The decorations are simple and sleek, but they still make the whole place look put together. The floors are clean, not a speck of dust on either of the bookshelves you pass when the boy leads you into the common area, not a single mug misplaced or a dish forgotten in the sink. The air is fresh in the spacious rooms, yet it’s still quite overbearing, not letting you breathe.

“Do you want anything to drink?” he asks, almost a little nervously.

“Just water is fine, thank you,” you smile, agreeing. Your throat is suddenly dry, almost begging for the cold liquid to splash down and hydrate it a bit before you completely choke out.

Eric nods, leaving you alone in the living room. The big plasma TV seems to be framed against the wall, like an artwork in the gallery, and although it still gets a look full of awe out of you, you find the sentiment a bit ridiculous to look at. You feel like you’re in the Truman show– everyone’s watching your reactions through the camera, laughing at the fact that this is the first time you’ve set your foot into a place filled with so many expensive things, making you scared to even move in fears of breaking something more than your yearly rent. You must look like a deer in the headlights, clueless and shocked at the state of your surroundings, and it suddenly makes you self conscious as you decide to walk around the room and focus on what you’re here for– the plan.

Eyes scanning the contents of vitrines, the crystal glasses and expensive wine bottles, you try hard to mentally calculate the worth of everything in the house– you find yourself failing, though, since you can’t even tell just how much each thing costs, too far out of your league to even assume the price tag. There’s a particular display of jewelry you recognise from back when you worked in the store, scoffing when you add up the prices of the chains you once sold to an old man wanting a gift for his wife’s birthday– something about the number of digits making you feel just the tiniest bit infuriated.

How come some people have so much, yet you have so little? What makes them deserve it and makes you work tirelessly to afford a living? Why can they afford vacations in Greece and Dubai, yet you keep gluing together the last remains of your money to buy groceries for your sister?

It’s ridiculous. It’s frustrating.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you move towards a wall filled with pictures– each framed in a white or silver frame so they fit together like a jigsaw puzzle for your eyes, aesthetically pleasing each guest that’s ever crossed the threshold of the house– gazing at the memories captured on the photos. 

You recognise the little boy on all of them to be Eric. There’s a girl, a few years older than him, but undoubtedly his sister, with her arm around his shoulders, a silly smile plastered on both of their faces so similar the resemblance is uncanny. There are a few pictures with all 4 of them on the wall as well, sun shining into their eyes as they all squint into the camera, posing in front of various monuments. A few of the mementos are from the beaches of Europe, some are from the hiking trails of Asia, and the one with Eric’s hair longer and in little curls, very obviously one of the most recent ones with how much he resembles the boy currently in the kitchen fetching you with a glass of water, standing on a surfboard, was taken in the waves of the american west coast. You remember him saying something about having family there, so it’s not unusual for him to visit often.

A knife laced with the green poison of jealousy cuts you somewhere into your abdomen. It’s not only the expensive luxuries he gets to experience that make you long for a life like his– it’s also the carelessness, the joy. It’s the care you see in his parents’ eyes on the pictures, the obvious love shared in the photographs– they’re taken not to boost their privilege, but to remember their happiest moments. You wish you had something like that. A functional family. One that cares for each other. One that doesn’t put obstacles under each other’s feet.

“Here you go,” Eric’s voice wakes you up from the slumber, making you jolt and take the glass of water he’s offering to you into your grasp, taking a sip.

“Thanks,” you nod, smiling. 

Watching Eric from under your eyelashes, you notice his eyes glazing the frames you’ve been focusing on before. Licking his lips, the boy speaks up with a voice laced with genuine absurdity, pointing towards the wall. 

“You must think this is just ridiculous,” he notes, scratching the back of his neck. Eric Sohn isn't stupid– although he grew up in luxury, he can still recognise the imbalance of resources the two of you have. You don’t know why he is being self-conscious about it, though.

“Not really,” you note, shrugging, “it’s just… quite unbelievable, to be fair.”

“Yeah,” he snickers, “we don’t really go on many vacations anymore, to be honest. We used to go on many when I was a kid,” he says, making you recognise the fact that most of the pictures did indeed look older– back from when Eric was younger. 

You never really went on vacations when you were little. There was always something that got into the way– your parents either had a fight just in the middle of the summer, or you simply didn’t have enough money to travel anywhere, since you were surviving from paycheck to paycheck. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you start to wonder about the difference it makes to miss something you once used to have, and the desire for something you never got to experience. Which one is worse? Or are they not really comparable at all?

“My dad started working much more, so he doesn’t really have time. My sister got married, so she has her own family to worry about,” he shrugs, trying hard to play it casual– somewhere in the depth of his dark orbs, though, you notice that he’s battling away the fact that it upsets him. “I was really close with my sister,” he chuckles, pointing towards one of the picture frames where she’s putting up a peace sign behind his head, photobombing their own picture together, “I miss her sometimes.”

The role of the older sister is perhaps the one you try your hardest to keep. Will your little sister miss you the same way Eric does now with his own sibling? Will it hurt her less or more? Will she resent you? You can’t imagine a world in which your sister hates you– do you choose to protect her always, or do you take a step forward so you can breathe too?

“Does she visit you at all?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he hums. “It’s just not the same. That’s alright, though,” he shrugs, pressing his lips together into a tight line, “little Eric had a very happy family, at least. Can’t complain about that.”

And when you lock eyes with him, the sympathy oozing into the spacious, silent, almost lonely-looking place, you recognize the reality of it all– that no matter how fortunate you are in life, no matter how much money you have, there will always be struggles. Life always has its way of finding your weak spots and hitting where it hurts, strangling you and leaving you breathless in the battle of it all. You either don’t go on vacations at all, or you once did and now you can’t– either way, it hurts to think of what ifs and to remind yourself of all that once was and is now wasted. 

For the first time since you met Eric Sohn, you start to see him as human. You start to see him as someone with his own life, his own emotions, his own struggles. 

Maybe Changmin was wrong to tell you to get closer with the male. Now, having the insight to his thoughts, having the image of his once so idyllic life that’s now so far away, lonely, makes it harder for you to think of what you’re supposed to do when the time comes– mercilessly, completely selfishly. 

You’re not so sure you can proceed with the plan anymore. 

You miscalculated your abilities.

“Do you really need to write it all down?” you squint at your companion, feeling at least a little comical when you watch him scribble down a list onto a lined sheet of paper, blue ink twinkling in the sun. 

“Yeah,” he nods, totally focused on the task at hand. “So we don’t miss out on any important information. Everything’s useful.”

A sigh leaves your mouth at that, making you shaking your head in disbelief. Changmin is currently laying on his stomach in the grass, not a picnic blanket in sight– just his bare shirt against the ground– and as you sit cross legged against the tree in the very corner of the park, enjoying the breeze playing with your hair, you start to wonder just how innocent and carefree you must look to the rest of the people. Just two friends enjoying their weekend in the park. Nothing else. No shady business going on– you promise!

“So you said there was a bunch of jewelry?” Changmin asks, tapping the glitter pen against his chin. You don’t really know where he came across one, but you don’t dare to ask. You know he was eyeing one of the fancy glitter gel pens in the dollar store when you last went to buy a notebook for class with him after school, so you guess you know the source of his newest shiny toy. He’s like a crow, you think. Both with the love for anything that glimmers and the love for stealing.

“Yeah,” you hum, “like at every rich person’s house,” you shrug, not really knowing what his deal was.

“Okay, good. Visible? Unprotected?”

“Are you asking if it was locked like in a jewelry store?” you snicker, rolling your eyes at him. “Because if so, the answer is no, Changmin. Who in their right mind has their personal belongings locked in their own home? Right. No one.”

“Just making sure. I don’t know how it works with rich people, I’ve never been one of those,” Changmin hums, not paying your sarcastic remarks much mind. “But this is good, it works in our favor. What other valuables have you laid your eyes upon during your visit?”

You try to think back to the day you went over to the Sohn’s mansion. You didn’t really see the majority of the house– since Eric didn’t give you a full tour and you didn’t really think it was appropriate to ask for one– so all you know about the stuff he has at home is from the living room, the entry hall and his bedroom. 

“A game console of some kind? I don’t know, dude…”

“A PS5?”

“God, I dunno,” you mumble, furrowing your brows at the boy. “Do I look like an expert?”

“Right,” he sighs, licking his lips. “Well, we can only assume. Next?” 

His glitter pen scribbles the words ‘PS5 (?)’ into the notepad right below the words ‘expensive jewelry’, making you chuckle. You really don’t know what he’s trying to achieve over here– well, the main goal is clear, you’d say– you just don’t really know why he has to have a complete list. It’s not like you’re going to rob his house of everything. You don’t have the capacity to do all that.

“Well, I don’t know. I doubt you want me to carry out his plasma TV or something, so I think this is all I can really give you right now,” you mumble, shrugging. “As if this whole thing isn’t totally immoral in the first place.”

“Y/N, sweetie, I told you to forget about morals long ago.”

“Not everyone is morally gray by default, Changminnie. It takes a while to recalibrate,” you say, rolling your eyes at his phlegmatism. If only you could live your life with Ji Changmin’s mindset. You bet handling a lot of things would be much easier.

Eyes searching through the trees and the greenery, you take a mental note of your sister’s whereabouts. You’re glad you were finally able to take her out of the house. Her friends invited her out, and although it’s only in the neighborhood, you’re much happier with keeping an eye on her, just in case. You’re much more concerned with safety of your little sister ever since you came in contact with breaking the law– you realized just how many people with bad intentions are on the planet, and although you’re not one of the people engaging in child trafficking, something about tasting danger on your tongue makes you feel more cautious when it comes to Aerin’s safety.

She is currently laughing at something with her friends before she runs off, seemingly playing tag. The park is big enough for the girls to roam around without getting on the road, and it’s good for her to get some physical activity in. Shifting your attention back to Changmin, noticing him doodling shapes in the corners of his notebook, your mind settles back into conversation with him.

“Or maybe you’re just starting to like your boyfriend a little too much,” Changmin scoffs, making you furrow your brows in confusion.

“I don’t think me not feeling 100% happy with planning to rob someone I know is the cause of me suddenly being in love with my fake boyfriend,” you note, “that’s just, y’know. Being a human being with basic empathy.”

“Fake boyfriend?” Changmin repeats, completely disregarding the rest of your sentence.

“Well, it’s not exactly real, is it?” you laugh, a hint of discomfort on your tongue. “Makes me feel kinda bad, but–”

“So you’re dating?”

Blinking once, then twice at the boy in front of you, you scratch the back of your neck in nerves. “Is that not what you wanted me to do?”

“No, it is, it’s just… is it, y’know, official?”

“Define official.”

“Does he call you his girlfriend?” 

Plucking a stem of grass from the ground, twirling it around in your fingers– because looking into Changmin’s eyes is suddenly too unbearable in this situation– you shrug. “Sometimes.”

“Ah,” the male nods, an unreadable expression sitting at his face. “So it’s pretty official, then.”

Not really giving him an answer to this argument– both because you’re suddenly a bit embarrassed, cheeks burning and ears ringing (even though you really don’t know what made you have this reaction, since you have no romantic feelings to your current significant other) and because you don’t really know what to say– you only chew on the inside of your cheek, examining the greenery in between your pointer and your thumb.

“Have you two kissed already?” Changmin asks, quite confidentially, making you kick him in the side of his thigh.

“God,” you sigh out, shaking your head. “No!”

The male in front of you clicks his tongue, a grin spreading over his features. There’s a boyish sparkle behind his eye, his expression not understandable to you, making your insides squeeze in a weird tinge of anxiety. “What?” you ask, but get no reply– just a soft laugh coming out of his throat, battling its way to your heartstrings.

“Nothing.”

“Changmin! What’s so funny?” you ask, hiding your cheeks into the palms of your hands. “It’s just– I don’t wanna do it if I don’t like him like that, y’know? It’s not as embarrassing as you make it to be–”

“Not for you, that is.”

“Changmin!”

“What?” he asks, the dimple on his cheek at full display when he faces you, clearly amused at your reaction. “Look, it’s just that if it was me–”

“Changminnie! Changminnie!” a high-pitched, female voice cuts your friend off, making both of you turn your heads towards the source currently running to you at full speed, laughter escaping your little sister’s throat.

“I bet you can’t catch me!” Aerin says, touching your friend by his shoulder to tag him into the game before she runs off, the rest of her friends looking behind their backs and watching as he scrambles up from his lying position, a smile of a beaming sun plastered onto his face.

You never learn what Changmin wanted to tell you that day. You don’t ask later– you forget, not really deeming the information as that important. The memory you have of the afternoon spent in the park is mostly the image of your friend running after your sister, the laughter of the little girl resonating through your brain like a distant taste of childhood you wish to visit.

Ji Changmin is a fast runner, but he makes sure to play according to the girls’ pace. His voice is cheerful as he taunts them, calling after them in the spacious park, and when he looks back over his shoulder at you, eyes locking, your heart is left soaring in your chest before an invisible hand pierces through your lungs and takes the muscle into its hold, as if to offer it to him.

You wish to make your sister’s laugh last forever. You hope to make her joy prominent in the memories of her childhood. You pray she never turns bitter.

And when one of the girls starts chasing after Changmin, her legs half as long as the boy’s, pace slower and muscles more tired, you watch the boy theatrically trip and fall to the ground, shielding his fall with his outstretched arms. The girls laugh as he loses the game, getting tagged, and after the male almost comically slowly gathers back up to his feet again, a thought flashes through your brain– how amazing life would be if it was just you three in it– just you, Aerin and Changmin, spending your afternoons together, free of any trouble.

How happy life would be if every afternoon went like this. How good life would be if you spent days together just like this, like family. 

For the first time since your decision, you start to doubt your life plan. How can you leave a fantasy like this behind? 

How could you ever leave your little sister alone?

“It’s happening soon, right?” Changmin asks, the two of you sitting next to each other on the bus stop. Changmin sometimes takes the bus back to the foster home after class when neither of you have plans, but due to your poor time management skills and awfully slow pace of packing your things up, it just so happened that the poor boy missed the earlier bus– which you tried to repay him for with offering him both your chocolate milk and your time as you stayed with him on the bus stop and waited for the nearest bus to the other side of the town with him.

“Hm?” you ask, a little confused at first. Then, it dawns on you. “Ah. Yeah, I guess.”

Changmin’s voice is soft, almost careful when he talks about the topic. You don’t often discuss your plan out loud together. It happens once a fortnight– after sealing the deal in the school yard that day, there always was a feeling of mutual understanding hanging over the two of you that said that even though it’s the reality you’re striding towards, you don’t really mention it out loud. As if not to jinx it. 

Or maybe, the both of you just don’t really want to discuss something so difficult. It’s easier to prepare for it when you pretend it’s easy. When you don’t open up about just how scared the both of you clearly are.

“Are you… are you ready?” he asks, making you look at him with confused eyes, a hearty chuckle escaping your throat.

“As ready as I’ll ever be– which actually, just for the record, means no,” you say, watching as your companion hums and nods to himself, head clearly full of thoughts he’s a little afraid to say out loud. 

You don’t blame him. Not at all, actually. Your own mind is full of conflicting thoughts and feelings, a battle of morality and selfish desire making a pit open in your stomach every time you think of the next step of your little plan. A part of you desperately needs to leave, to settle things once and for all, but another part of you is still hesitant. Maybe there’s another way. Maybe you could do something about it. Maybe you could try contacting your father again– one more call left to be sent into the voicemail really won’t hurt you right now.

You’ve been thinking a lot of similar things lately. Questioning the nature of your plan. Wondering if you’ll succeed, if it’s all worth it.

You don’t really talk about it, though. Not until now. You don’t know what gets you so weak and fragile. 

“What if… what if there’s another way?” you ask, watching as the boy’s head spins to face you, eyes glossy as they stare back to yours.

“Hm?” he seems confused. “What do you mean?”

A little sigh escapes your throat at that, your head turning so you face the road again. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you shrug. “I was just… I was just thinking, like… what if there’s a way for me to do all of this without leaving? Y’know, I could just…” you trail off, not really finishing your sentence. Truth is, you don’t really know where you were going with that statement either. Maybe you just said it out loud in hopes that Changmin would finish it and figure it out for you, offer you a different perspective, make a new plan– a plan where neither of you leave, a plan where neither of you have to cut ties with everything you know back home.

That’s a foolish thought, though. “What? Get 20 million won in a month a different way? A legal one? You’re gonna get another loan, or something?” Changmin chuckles, not really taking you seriously. Or maybe he is– you just feel a bit childish for having such unrealistic views.

“I don’t know,” you say, jaw clenching. “Maybe I could get another job, and start going on those dates again, and–”

“Yeah, no,” Changmin cuts you off, a huff escaping his lungs. “I know it’s hard, Y/N, but this is all you can do. This is the last resolution, or else you’re gonna lose your house, your mum will be homeless, and you two with Aerin will either end up with your dad– which is unlikely, from what you’ve told me– or at the foster home. If you’re lucky, maybe they’ll put you both to the same one–”

Something about his words feels like daggers are thrown into your skin. Like poison is on his tongue and you’re getting burned with each honest sentence that is uttered out your way. The truth hurts, it makes you feel like he’s only adding salt to an open wound, and it’s not fair of you to react that way– you’re certainly aware– but you can’t help it. The world is toppling over onto you, the weight is all on your shoulders, and you feel totally, utterly helpless. You feel overwhelmed. You feel tired.

“Okay, I get it,” you cut him off, shaking your head in a dismissive way and rolling your eyes at the boy. “It’s just that I don’t really like the thought of doing illegal stuff just to survive, y’know? It’s not exactly easy to steal and do all of this shit, and then leave. I know it must seem fun to you, since–”

“Fun?” Changmin cuts you off. A heartbeat of silence passes by between the two of you, and suddenly, you know you’ve crossed the line. You and Changmin can tell each other many things, but this time, you sound a lot like the people judging him on the street. You sound a lot like the police officers always letting him off without punishment– he’s a kid from the foster home. He does this stuff for attention, doesn’t he? For fun. For satisfaction. He doesn’t know any better– that’s how he was raised. Right?

“Fun,” he repeats. “You think I’m doing this for fun, huh?” he chuckles. You notice his knee bumping up and down in the periphery of your vision, a nervous action just begging to tick you off. “That’s not exactly something I expected you to say, but okay–”

“Well, that’s how we fucking ended up here in the first place, didn’t we?”

“I’ve been doing this for you!” he spits, voice rising and making you flinch. “For you, and for me. For our fucking futures,” he says. You refuse to look at him even when he stands up from his place on the bench, situating his figure in front of your body still hunched up on the hard wood. “I’ve been doing this for the both of us, because we deserve a better life than this, Y/N.”

“A better future?” you laugh, bitterness dripping off your tongue. “In hiding. On a run.”

“Do you prefer being homeless? Being thrown into the foster home for a few days before you age out of the system and your little sister is left there with the other kids? Kids like me?” he says mercilessly, only adding gas to the fire. 

“You know that’s not what I meant–”

“Oh, trust me, Y/N, I know,” he says, irony slipping through his words. “You’re just saying this because you’re scared. Because you feel selfish–”

“And isn’t it true, Changmin? Isn’t selfish what we both are?” you say, your eyes finally meeting with the boy’s. His hair is disheveled as if he’s been running his hands through it in frustration, eyebrows furrowed and a displeased expression is sitting at his features. On most days, Ji Changmin looks like a cunning fox– full of mischief, full of secrets. Now, though, it’s like you see right through him. Somewhere along the way, you feel like you’re the one that started building up a wall in the middle of this argument. “How could I ever just leave my sister there? You could never understand–”

“I can’t, huh?” he says, nothing close to the gentle softness in his voice now, all disappearing from when he spoke to you just a few minutes ago. His voice is harsh, hoarse, even, something behind his eyes shifting in the middle of the fight. “Why? Because I don’t have siblings? Because I have nothing to lose?”

“You wouldn’t know how leaving someone behind feels,” you let out, but even as you’re saying it, you feel immediately disgusted with yourself. How could you ever say this to his face? 

Changmin looks like he was slapped in his face. You swear he winces at your words, bottom lip trapped between his lips as he stares you down. The corners of your eyes start burning like there’s been acid poured into your sockets, hands trembling in the reality of your words. The boy in front of you nods to himself, harshly breathing in.

“I wouldn’t know how leaving someone behind feels,” he repeats, nodding to himself. “Yeah. You’re right. Because I don’t have anyone,” he admits. “I don’t have siblings like you do. I never met my parents, because they never gave a shit about me enough to keep me in their lives in the first place. Nobody fucking cares at the foster home, because I can’t seem to make meaningful connections with anyone. And you know what, yeah. It’s just so easy for me, because there’s no one here who would give a single flying fuck if I leave, because they don’t even really care if I’m alive or dead.”

“Changmin–”

“Just say it, Y/N. Say nobody cares,” he says, eyes stone cold, an avalanche taking place in your lungs. It’s hard to breathe and your eyes are hazy, fists crawling in themselves as you relish in the catastrophe you’ve caused.

“That’s not what I–”

“And you know what? Maybe you’re right, Y/N. I have nothing to lose, I am not leaving anyone behind, I wouldn’t know how it feels. Call me selfish, for all you like. Call me selfish for wanting something for myself, for wanting to leave this town and start over somewhere new. I don’t care. I’m doing this for myself,” he says, the noise of an approaching car landing in your ears through the sound of his words. “But don’t you fucking dare give up on your future just because you feel guilty. Don’t you dare call yourself selfish when you’re doing everything you can to keep the rest of your family afloat. Don’t call yourself selfish when you’re paying back a loan that isn’t yours and taking care of your sister’s future by doing all of this alone, yeah?”

A hot trail of liquid falls down your cheek as you hear the bus approaching the stop. Taking a shaky breath in, you open your mouth to say something– anything– but no words come out.

“And I know it’s hard for you. I know you’re tired, I know you’re exhausted and I know you’re scared and god do I wish I could make this easier for you, but Y/N, don’t you ever say it’s fun or easy for me, when I’ve been putting everything on line trying to help you. To help us.”

The bus door opens. Like a child that’s being scolded, you refuse to meet his eye. There’s shame flowing through your veins, embarrassment creeping up your neck. It feels like you betrayed him. Like you cut right where it hurts, tried to use everything you had on him against him, hitting all his weak spots– all because you were suddenly too prideful to admit to yourself that you’re scared and wallowing in guilt. It’s hard to bear the weight alone. You wish you could make Changmin feel guilty. 

That’s something he won’t understand. It doesn’t make it easier for him, though. He was right– you could never do any of this differently. You could also never do any of this alone. 

“And if you still think it’s selfish, then, well,” you hear him sigh, “I think it’s okay to be selfish sometimes. I think it’s fair of you to be selfish right now,” he says, the words both feeling like a hug and a punch to your sternum, leaving you cut open in the empty road.

“I’ll see you on Monday.”

The bus drives off, the boy’s figure peeling itself off your proximity, entering the other side of the town. You sit at the bus stop for a long while after, aggressively wiping your tears away with the back of your palm, embarrassed to cause such a scene. You never meant to fight with him. You never meant to act like a toddler, playing the victim in a situation that you sadly cannot change, in a situation you unfortunately cannot solve in any better way. 

Ji Changmin is the only person you can lean on in this situation. You feel bad for using him as your punching bag. You’re deeply flawed to take it out on him. 

In the silence of the street, the thought hits you with full force, making your knees weak and your throat dry up like the desert, a dagger straight through your heart as you realize you’re the only person Changmin would be leaving behind. 

And after everything you two went through together, he would never do such a thing. Ji Changmin will hold on to you like a lifeline, because you’re everything he’s got– everything he keeps fighting for. He could give up on everything, had you not been on board. 

He could never give up on you, though.

Warm sunlight peeks through the windows as you sit in silence side by side, neither of you daring to say anything, as if you were scared to break the atmosphere hanging over the calm library. You and Changmin haven’t talked to each other much the whole day, something in the air remaining tense and strained after your previous argument on Friday, but you still tagged along with him when he asked you if you wanted to do homework with him in the library. This is the first time you see your companion doing any school work at all, so you figure you don’t want to pass out on the revolutionary moment– and also, you still feel kind of bad about your latest interaction. You take the fact that he invited you to spend more time with him as a good sign, though. 

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you decide to break the bubble and move a little in your place, reaching for something inside of your bag. Changmin promptly ignores your movements, but when a carton of banana milk appears in his vision, he pays you a glance. 

You’re too prideful to say sorry with words. You don’t want to mention it and go back to the topic you were discussing, much preferring to let things be the way they were before you had an emotional outburst at the bus stop. While you can’t say you aren’t glad that the words are now out in the open, the two of you are more vulnerable in front of each other than ever, you really don’t think you can handle another argument. Some things are better left unsaid. Ignored. There was mutual understanding over you two anyway– there was no use saying those things out loud.

And when you move the banana milk closer to Changmin’s elbow resting on the table with a push of your pointer finger across the dark-wooden desk, you see his eyes softening. He understands, taking the drink into his hand and tearing the plastic off the straw, sucking in the beverage. Ji Changmin accepted your offering, and somehow, you feel like there was some weight lifted off your shoulders, a force unsqueezing your heart. 

“You’re not working on your homework?” he asks, voice hushed in the silent library.

“No,” you shake your head, deciding to lean over the desk and rest your weight on your folded arms, prepping yourself into a comfortable napping position. “I’ll just borrow your notebook before class and copy it.”

“Is this you finally admitting that I’m smarter than you?” he teases, shaking his head at your prompt laziness.

“If that helps you sleep at night,” you shrug. 

Changmin snickers at your reply, eyes hovering over you for a few seconds as you get comfortable next to him. He takes another sip of the banana milk before he offers the drink to you, the straw hovering over your lips. Like a baby being fed through a sippy cup, you open your mouth and let him slot the straw between your lips, sucking the liquid in and relishing in the sweetness of the beverage. 

You shoot him a smile when the carton is back in its place on the desk, his eyes promptly moving to the monitor in front of him. You don’t really know what he’s working on in the first place, the hoard of assignments mixing up in your brain, but you refuse to let your mind wander over equations or foreign languages now. It’s Monday afternoon, and even though it’s only the first day of the week, you feel like you deserve to rest.

Changmin types something on the keyboard of the library computer, eyebrows furrowing as he focuses on the contents of the screen. You find yourself glued to his motions, watching him from the side, studying the way his expressions change in milliseconds, irises dialing by the second. When he focuses a little too hard on the information his eyes are scanning on the device, he traps his bottom lip in between his teeth, tugging on it. He also has a habit of licking his lips every few seconds, leaving a wet trail glossing over his mouth, making you feel foolish at the examination of that part of his face. Hair is falling into his forehead, black locks messily trimmed and mostly unstyled, oftentimes leaving you eager to brush your hand through the raven strands to tame them into place. 

His features have grown familiar to you over the months. He has the face of someone you’ll remember even in a few years. He looks like someone you’d take pictures of in photo booths and tape the strips up in your room. You don’t have any pictures like this, though, and your room isn’t worthy enough of being made prettier with such a photo strip. Maybe in the future, you think. When I live somewhere else.

His voice wakes you up from the slumber, your heart hammering at the interruption. Changmin speaks to you casually, the monotone hum of his voice making you listen attentively to what he has to say.

“Where do we eventually want to settle?” he asks, making you raise your brows at him in question.

“What part of the homework is that?” you joke, watching as the boy’s cheeks tint pink, a dismissive wave of his hand shutting up your teasing.

“I’m already done with that,” he clears his throat, “I’m just… doing research.”

“Research,” you repeat, nodding to yourself. You nuzzle your nose into your hoodie sleeve, thinking for a while as you contemplate your decision. You never really thought of where you’d go. ‘Away’ was always your destination– never specified. You just knew you’d have to leave one day, eventually.

“Busan, maybe?” you hum, laughing to yourself. “I dunno. I always wanted to go to Japan, but I don’t think our funds will reach as far.”

“I don’t really think the language barrier would be ideal either,” he agrees, nodding to himself. “Busan sounds nice.”

“Doesn’t it?” you grin, locking your gaze with his only for a few seconds before he looks back to the computer. 

“We could get a little flat somewhere in the middle of the city when we save up enough, eventually,” he says, tone of voice sweet and gentle. There’s something about planning your future with Changmin that leaves you feeling particularly vulnerable and fragile. Not in a bad way, just in a strange type of way. In a way that makes your insides ache and heart tremble. You never thought you’d plan your future with someone. 

Ji Changmin never planned his future either. Somehow, he assumed there was nothing good waiting for him after aging out of the system. 

The intimacy folded over you two like a blanket makes you panic. “We’re moving in together?” you tease, watching as the boy’s face heats up more, a hesitant shrug of his shoulders acted out to seem casual.

“I think it’s more convenient that way,” he hums, trying to stay logical. “We can split the rent and groceries, and one of us can cook while the other one cleans…” he trails off, scratching the back of his neck. “We are leaving together, so I assumed…”

A dumb smile battles its way onto your lips. “I was just joking,” you assure him, watching as he shies away from your gaze. It’s not an usual reaction from him. Ji Changmin doesn’t really get bashful– at least not with you. You try not to question it for the sake of your own comfort.

Forcing your eyes off his face, you watch as he types something on the keyboard again, attention glued to his digits. Dark bruises paint his knuckles, scratches glazing the backs of his fists. Eyebrows furrowing, you act on instinct as you reach out your hand, stopping him from typing as you take his palm into yours. “Did you get into a fight again?” you ask, thumb absent-mindledly tracing the outlines of the scars.

“Maybe,” he admits light-heartedly, lips pressed into a thin line when your warm hand locks with his, the tender touch of the pads of your thumbs against the open wounds making him shiver. If asked, the boy would blame it on the breeze coming through the window. It’s getting late and the air is colder. That has to be it.

“No getting in fights after this is all over,” you say as you let go. “Wouldn’t want our landlord to kick us out for delinquency.”

Changmin laughs, the absurdity of the situation and your foolish dreams downing on both of you at once. Unaware that even though you were both forced to grow up much faster than other kids your age, you were still childish at heart– as if chasing the time of your life that was forcefully taken out of your hands– older, but still needing to live through that stage, you fold back over the table and force your eyes closed, scoffing at the sentiments.

“Don’t you worry, Y/N,” he laughs, “we’re starting clean. Hell, I’ll even give back to society. We can start volunteering, if it makes you sleep better at night.”

The joke makes you chuckle, warming your heart. It’s nice to think about the future with someone. It’s good to feel like your dreams might be tangible. The future is in your hands, and you will do everything you can to make it worth it. 

It’s good to have someone you can lean on.

“Can I help you with that?” Aerin asks you from behind, startling you in the small kitchen space. Turning towards her, you offer her a smile and shake your head, watching as your little sister takes her stance next to your figure, observing your cooking.

When it comes to cooking, you wouldn’t call yourself a professional. A lot of the times, what you end up with isn’t as delicious as you expected it to turn out when you started making it, but at the end of the day, it’s food anyway and you eat it– because throwing it out would be a waste of money and resources, and you have to eat something. There are a few foods that are easy enough that you perfected them, though– and those are ramen, an egg omelet, fried rice, and lastly, the pre-made foods you get at the grocery store that you either just boil or heat up in the microwave. 

“No, it’s okay,” you say as you work on one of your master dishes– the one that satisfies everyone, including your little sister: ramen. You can never go wrong with ramen, you think. 

“But I wanna learn to cook as well,” your sister insists, crossing her arms on her chest, “I’m not a child anymore, and I have to learn how to look after myself.”

A dry chuckle escapes your throat, shaking your head in disbelief at her mature words. In your eyes, she’s just a child, though– a kid that’s not to be trusted with knives and boiling water, a little girl that isn’t as careful with the utensils as she should be, which can undoubtedly end up with her getting hurt. 

“That’s what I’m here for,” you smile, throwing your little sister a caring look. “You just focus on studying and I’ll be there to cook for you so your little stomach is never empty,” you say as you slice the spring onion to add into the noodles boiling on the stove.

Aerin seems to be disappointed with your answer. Her cheeks grow twice as big as they usually are as she pouts, a frown overtaking her features. You take it as your sign to engage your little sister more in the grown-up activities, sighing to yourself as you realize just how fast your little sister has grown. Even though you try to shield her from all the troubles of the adult world, you can’t really prevent her from maturing faster than the other kids her age. Hell, she’s not blind– as much as you’d like her to be. She knows what’s going on. She might not be able to grasp it fully, might not be able to understand everything with her childish brain, but she knows– to a certain level, that is. 

Nodding to yourself, you try to put up a smiling face. “Okay, then,” you say, “I’m making ramen.”

Your sister seems to be intrigued with your sudden tutorial, eyes growing big and focused. Something grows impossibly soft and fond in you, watching her scanning the surroundings, trying to find any task to help you out with. 

“You can just open the pack and put the noodles in the water to boil, if you want to do it the easy way,” you start, “but if you want to make it more delicious, like I do, you can add some other ingredients in with it.”

“What do you add?” Aerin asks.

“Spring onion,” you hum, pointing to the vegetables you’d been cutting when she approached you, “soy sauce,” you point towards the black bottle on the counter, waiting to be opened and added into the dish cooking on the stove, “and lastly, I crack in an egg.”

“That doesn’t seem hard,” Aerin says, earning herself an amused chuckle out of you.

“It’s not,” you admit, “I’m not a professional chef, or anything, so I keep it simple.”

“Can I do it, then?” she asks, looking at you with big, hopeful eyes. You can’t possibly turn those eyes down. A passing thought emerges in you that she needs this– she needs someone to teach her even the smallest things. She needs you to teach her how to cook ramen, because you know how hard it is when you have no one to show you, when you have to figure out everything on your own. 

Nodding, you step aside and put the black bottle of soy sauce into her hand. “You can pour in a little bit. Not too much, though, or else it will be too salty.”

“How much?” she asks, furrowing her brows.

“I’ll tell you when to stop,” you smile, watching as her smaller hand opens the lid of the bottle, positioning the glass above the pot. Black liquid soon drips down, tinting the broth a dark brown color, the spices mixing in and making the ramen instantly twice as delicious as if you’d just thrown it on the stove with the spices that come in the packaging. 

“That’s fine,” you say, halting your sister in adding more and over-seasoning your lunch.

“Now the egg?”

“Yeah,” you nod, watched by the focused eyes of your little sister. You take the small sphere you’ve prepared onto the kitchen counter before you started cooking, offering it to Aerin. “Have you ever cracked an egg before?” you ask.

“No.”

“Okay,” you laugh, “so this is your first time. Don’t worry, nobody gets it right the first time. Just crack it on the counter and then open the shell. Be careful not to spill it everywhere, though,” you instruct, watching as your little sister moves with much uncertainty, small hands shaking with the delicate ingredient in her grasp.

The touch of the shell with the counter is almost delicate the first time, as if she was afraid the egg was going to spill everywhere and make a mess on the kitchen counter, but the second time, she’s a little more confident, cracking the egg on the corner. Pure concentration is shown on your sister’s face as she moves the ingredient above the pot, her little fingers having trouble with opening the shell and dropping the egg in. She struggles, nails digging into the light tan, putting in more force than necessary and breaking the shell even further, having the yolk spill all over her fingers, dropping to the pan with a crash.

Aerin gasps in surprise at her own actions, a frown instantly overtaking her features as she notices that the shell fell in, disappointment so evidently running through her veins.

“It’s okay,” you say, petting her arm, “as I said, nobody gets it right the first time. Throw the shell into the bin and wash your hands, I’ll finish this,” you smile, trying to transfer all your feelings of pride into her.

She is growing up right in front of your eyes. It’s a feeling only older siblings can understand– seeing someone transform from a baby to an elementary-school kid, being there for every step of their journey. You’ve known her her whole life. It’s a bond that you never want to break.

But there’s that bugging voice in your mind that keeps telling you to enjoy this, enjoy it while it lasts, enjoy it while you can, because soon, you’ll be gone and you won’t see her take the next steps, you won’t see her grow up. A chill runs down your spine at that, an unsettling feeling making you feel heavy, making you trap your bottom lip between your teeth and gnaw on it in a poor attempt to ground yourself.

Crouching over the boiling pot, you take out a spoon and fish for the cracked shell in the noodles, not really being in favor of getting an upset appendix. Your eyes get hazy, stinging at the corners– maybe you could blame it on the steam.

“You did well, Aerin. You’ll be a better cook than me in no time,” you praise her.

“I have to learn,” she agrees, the sound of the tap turning on as she washes her hands flowing into your ears with her next sentiment. “You won’t be here forever to do everything for me, after all.”

With your back turned to her, pretending to still dig around the noodles for the egg shells you already got out a few seconds ago, you hum. You catch yourself mid-sniffle, quickly wiping your cheek with the back of your hand, turning off the stove– maybe you could blame it on the spring onion. Cutting it always makes you tear up. It’s just the fumes getting in your eyes.

You won’t be there forever to do everything for your little sister. The day that happens is maybe sooner than she’d expect– you can’t tell her, though. You can’t prepare her for your departure.

By bringing this up, though, it’s almost like in the corner of her soul, she knew. It’s almost like she had it all figured out, it’s like she saw right through you. It’s like her own way of telling you not to worry– she’ll be a big girl and take care of herself. She’ll be strong, even when you’re gone.

You won’t be there forever to do everything for your little sister. You really, desperately wish you would, though. 

Carisoprodol, sold under the brand name Soma among others, is indicated for the relief of discomfort associated with acute, painful musculoskeletal conditions in adults. Carisoprodol is a white, crystalline powder, having a mild, characteristic odor and a bitter taste. It is slightly soluble in water; freely soluble in alcohol, chloroform, and acetone; and its solubility is practically independent of pH. SOMA should only be used for short periods (up to two or three weeks) because adequate evidence of effectiveness for more prolonged use has not been established.

“What if it kills him?” you ask, chewing on your bottom lip.

“It won’t,” Changmin says, placing his hand over yours, the package of pills resting in your open palm. “Trust me.”

The recommended dose of SOMA is 250 mg to 350 mg three times a day and at bedtime. The recommended maximum duration of SOMA use is up to two or three weeks.

“Where did you even get this?” your eyebrows furrow as you listen to him instruct you on the ways of using it. Your stomach is already burning with acid at the thought of what you’re going to do. It’s what you’re dreading, but it’s also what needs to be done. 

“Our caretaker back at the foster home takes them,” he says, shrugging. “So I just borrowed some.”

SOMA has sedative properties and may impair the mental and/or physical abilities required for the performance of potentially hazardous tasks such as driving a motor vehicle or operating machinery. There have been post-marketing reports of motor vehicle accidents associated with the use of SOMA. In some patients, however, and/or early in therapy, carisoprodol can have the full spectrum of sedative side effects and can impair the patient's ability to operate a firearm, motor vehicles, and other machinery of various types, especially when taken with medications containing alcohol, in which case an alternative medication would be considered. The intensity of the side effects of carisoprodol tends to lessen as therapy continues, as is the case with many other drugs. Other side effects include: dizziness, clumsiness, headache, fast heart rate, upset stomach, vomiting and skin rash.

“Just give him two of these. He should be out within an hour.” 

A chill runs down your spine. This is nothing close to the occasional stealing at the grocery store or the lying you used to do to get money out of old men that are predatory towards a girl knowing she’s underage. This is twice as morally wrong and twice as dangerous for everyone involved. If you had to draw a line at what you can excuse yourself, you think all of this is far over it.

“If this goes wrong, I’m ratting you out and we’re both going to jail. You hear me?” you say, eyes bearing into Changmin’s.

“That’s the plan, baby,” he grins. “If you go down, I go as well.”

The usual dose of 350 mg is unlikely to engender prominent side effects other than somnolence, and mild to significant euphoria or dysphoria, but the euphoria is generally short-lived due to the fast metabolism of carisoprodol into meprobamate and other metabolites.

You watch the boy from up close, his eyes now blown out and big, blonde hair falling into his forehead in a messy manner– yet he doesn’t find it in him to drag his palm across the strands and push them out of his vision. You’re laying in the bed with him, side by side, staring into each other’s eyes. You watch as the drug slowly takes over him, as the boy in front of you slowly starts slipping into a more and more sleepy state, completely unaware of the fact that you dropped two white, round pills into his drink when he went to the toilet. 

Your conscience starts stinging more and more with the passing time. Eric Sohn looks at you like you hung the stars onto the sky, like you made the whole world with just your two hands– and this is what you’re repaying him with. This is what you decided to do, this is what path you chose to take.

Millions of excuses flash through your alert brain. Maybe it’s just your mind trying to rationalize everything, trying to make you feel better about the mess you’re just now going to create– either way, it’s helping only a little bit with the rapid beating of your heart. 

You keep telling yourself that it doesn’t matter. That Eric would never understand the life you’re living, that he wouldn’t even want to date you, had he known just how much money your family owes. You keep telling yourself that it’s okay, because he has a lot of money, and it’s not like you’re stealing it all– you’re just stealing the valuables he showed you. And maybe it’s his fault for trusting you. After all, he was the one willingly taking you back to his house when his parents weren’t around. This is his lesson– he should start being less gullible and vulnerable. He should stop hanging out with people like you.

You and him, you don’t belong together. Eric Sohn is supposed to stand by the side of another rich heir, showing her off to his parents. He’s supposed to be proudly going around the town with his newest girlfriend, not hiding with her in the shadows, knowing, sensing that she’s flawed and not like him– not like others.

He’s going to wake up and find out who you are– the reality, not just what you’ve been pretending to be all this time– and he’s going to be disappointed, sure, but he’s going to move on to better things. Because what you’re taking from him is just a fraction of his wealth, just a small part of what he has. He won’t even feel the loss. 

But for you, you’re taking everything you can– everything you need.

It’s not like any of this– your relationship– was ever real. You two haven’t even kissed yet. You hang out with him and hold his hand, you listen to him while he talks to you with sparkles in his eyes, but there’s no depth. Surely, he must feel it. Surely, he must know there’s something wrong.

“I love you, Y/N,” he suddenly says, tone of voice hushed, almost not audible in the silence of his room. The sentence is like a knife to your heart, a dagger stabbing you in your back. Something inside of you crumbles, your stomach burning with guilt, hands shaking as you pretend you didn’t hear him. If you ignore it, maybe it’s like it never happened. 

It’s the effect of the drug. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. It’s not real– how could it be? He doesn't know you. He doesn’t know who you really are and what you’re about to do. He can’t love you.

Fingers playing with the loose threads of the blanket thrown over the two of you, your eyes avert from his, big and honest, still like water. It takes everything in you not to stay here with him, wait until he’s back from the sedation, and apologize. It takes everything in you not to back out. Every time the weight of your actions becomes too unbearable, the weight of responsibility and your family’s well-being drops onto the other side of the scale, though, and you’re back to square one– this is what you need to do.

“You don’t have to say it back,” he says to you despite not meeting your eye, “you… I know…” he trails off, but doesn’t finish the sentence, as if changing his mind. A dry chuckle leaves his throat at that, words sweet like honey lacing your throat, choking you up with the thickness of them, the richness of his unreturned care. “I just wanted you to know.”

You’re a terrible, terrible human being. The force of your teeth against the side of your cheek suddenly gives out, making you taste iron on your tongue. Promptly ignoring everything he says, focusing on calming down your breathing and the erratic beating of your heart, you wonder if he knows. If he’s aware you’re just playing with him– if he knows you never cared for him in a way he does for you. 

Because if he knows, it’s like he’s allowing you to break him. Isn’t that what love is, though? Being vulnerable, offering someone your whole heart, and expecting them to take care of it? Love is cruel in that way. It can take away all of you. It can consume you.

And would he still love you if he knew what you were going to do to him? Is his love unconditional? You chuckle at that. He doesn’t know anything about love. 

A while passes, the two of you laying in silence. When you finally battle away the fear and look up at him, you find him asleep. His eyes are closed and his breathing is steady, and when you touch his arm– testing to see if he will wake– you find him unresponsive. This is your cue.

Standing up from his bed and straightening the wrinkles on your clothes, you take a deep breath in and out to calm yourself down. Your hands grasp the backpack you brought with yourself– the bag that was supposed to be filled with clothes so you could sleep over, yet that is now empty, just waiting to be filled– and you walk out of Eric’s room, feet dragging you towards all the empty rooms in the corridor.

The first part of the plan is now in action.

Walking into the master bedroom, dashing to the walk-in closet, you take all the jewelry you can find. The mental calculations of the worth of the chains and golden earrings in your bag are adding up slowly, the digits growing and making a sense of satisfaction flow through your veins. Maybe something rubbed off on you from hanging out around Changmin so much– you get the thrill now. You get the adrenaline. It’s like working for something you want, something you need, and although you know there are other ways, they’re not as fast and effective. The thing is, you need the money now. 

Fastly getting through room by room, taking everything valuable you can see with the idea of turning it into profit in a pawn shop somewhere along the way, when everything is settled and you’re on the run, starting your life somewhere new, you find that it gets easier to operate. It’s like you’re working on auto-pilot, the full weight of your actions slowly slipping through your consciousness. You’re only an actor in your life right now, looking at yourself from a third person view– like you’re playing a video game. 

Detached from everything, hands now more steady and breathing almost normal, you take the jewelry from the living room as well. A dry chuckle leaves your throat as you eye Eric’s wallet thrown lazily on the shelf by the front door. You never leave your money out in the open and unhidden at home– don’t you know that? Haven’t you learned about the dangers of that yet, Eric Sohn? Oh, what a blissfully unaware life you lead.

Opening it, taking the bank notes into your fingers and folding them into your pocket, you stop as you put your shoes back on at the front door. Looking around the big, empty space, not really allowing yourself to dwell on your actions just yet, you take your phone out of your pocket and before you completely turn the device off, block Eric’s number. 

The doorknob is cold in your hands as you open the front door, walking out. It’s like you’re leaving who you once were and who you could’ve been in that big house behind you– it’s like you’re saying goodbye to the life you once led and anxiously awaiting the new one waiting for you behind the corner. 

Getting sentimental won’t help you in this situation, though. Being emotional and afraid won’t drag your family out of the depths of loan sharks’ teeth. 

And so you walk off the property, mind set on the meeting point you agreed on with Changmin. It’s now or never.

The first part of the plan has been completed. You have something to fall back on when you discard all the money into the loan shark’s hands. Eric Sohn’s wealth is now your safety net. 

You meet up with your partner in crime at the corner of the neighborhood. Your backpack gets hidden in the bushes, away from the eyes of everyone, on the route you’re going to take when completing your second part of the plan. The next couple of steps are completed on autopilot. 

Flashes of Changmin’s face. A ski mask pulled over his head, a hood pulled over your hair, disposable mask covering your nose. He throws one of his spare black hoodies over your body, leaving you to put your arms through the sleeves and zip the clothing up, the two of you masked to the point of not being recognised even to the eyes of people that know you. 

You two make a silent entry to the empty road leading towards the town square. Not much conversation is shared between the two of you because of the adrenaline running through your veins. The stride in your step is consistent and fast-paced, the timing of your plan set to a tight schedule. When you cross the corner, nearing your target, the two of you put on sunglasses and keep your head low. Your heartbeat is so fast you can hear it in your ears, your body responding to the stress with the help of your sympathetic nervous system– breathing growing fast and hands a little sweaty.

Your mind is repeating ‘It’s gonna be okay, It’s gonna be okay, It’s gonna be okay’, a silent plea that constantly gets overthrown by the rational side of your brain. Is it too late to back out now? You don’t know– but at the same time, you recognise that you don’t particularly want to. You’re just scared– you know it. You recognise it. 

And it’s okay to do things afraid. It means you have the courage to do them– it means you have what it takes to change the situation you’re in.

Your eyes lock with Changmin’s, his face mostly hidden in a shadow. You can’t really read his expression– it’s dark and his features are covered– but it seems like you two operate on the same frequencies. One nod is all it takes– the world stops for a second before Changmin turns on his heel and moves towards the jewelry store you once worked at, a heavy rock he prepared close to the sidewalk thrown through the door giving you an easy entry to the property.

The alarm goes off instantly. That means you only have about 10 to 15 minutes before the police come and you’re busted.

You have to act quick. Changmin climbs into the store like he owns the place. You have the background information from working there that could very well get you caught quickly, if the police are smart enough to connect the dots in the investigation. The plan you and Changmin have is efficient, fast and smart. You thought about everything– you can’t make a single mistake. The way you move and operate is calculated and thought-out. There’s no way you’re giving yourself to the hands of the police tonight.

While you run to the back and rummage through the manager’s room, looking for the key to the cash register– you know where it’s usually kept, since you closed with her many times before and watched her do all the tasks with innocent eyes, not yet knowing that you’re going to end up using this information for your good one day. When you find it– on the top of the shelf, almost invisible if you hadn’t known that’s where to look for it– you move to the safe in the corner of the room. The sequence of numbers is easy to remember– or at least for you. Your father used to tell you that you’re good with numbers. You’ve grown to hate every quality of yours he ever complimented, but you must admit it’s coming in clutch right now.

Your fingers work on the lock, the junctures of the metal unclasping under your touch. Your hands are still sweaty, but a little more steady now– you notice as you open the door to the safe and take out the rest of the money binded with rubber bands, throwing it into your backpack. You work fast, not really giving yourself an opportunity to mentally count and estimate the amount, but something in your bones is telling you that it should be enough.

Running back to the main store area after you’re done, not bothering to close the safe after yourself, you reach the register to get the last remains of cash from this store. The alarm is still going off, making your ears ring and your stomach churn with acid, but as you get the key in and forcefully take out the drawer, you feel a little calmer at the sight of the bills inside. 

From the corner of your eye, you watch Changmin getting out jewelry from each shiny glass vitrine, smashing it with his gloved fist. Countless earrings, watches and necklaces get thrown messily into his bag, expensive metal rising your worth with every passing second. 

When the cash is in your bag, you quickly pace around the store and try to help Changmin. As soon as your hand goes to smash the window, though, he takes you by the wrist and shields you from your attempts. Furrowing your brows, you meet eyes with him, wordlessly asking for an explanation. Does he not want your help? Does he want you to fully stick to the plan? But you’re done with your part– the best thing you can do at this moment is help him with his side, no?

Your question is quickly answered when the man keeps tugging on your hand, leading you out of the store. Your feet buckle the tiniest bit when you cross the threshold, but that’s when you hear it– the sirens.

You didn’t notice them over the sound of the alarm and the whooshing of your blood in your ears. You have to leave– they’re close.

Changmin takes the lead, his sneakers making a loud noise against the pavement. You run after him, your pulse quickening with each meter. They could be anywhere, you think. They could stop you right here, on the run. You have to be careful.

The paranoia gets the worst of you, making you constantly check over your shoulder. Pupils shaking, you scan your surroundings– there could be anyone watching you that could tell the police that they saw you on the run. There must be cameras everywhere. You can’t hide. They’re always watching. You’re going to get caught, and you’re going to be sent to juvie. You can’t help your family–

“Y/N,” you hear him call from in front of you, the anxious thoughts vanishing from your brain fast, like the strike of a lightning. 

His sunglasses are off, your eyes meeting. Something inside of you comes to a calm, your heart leaping, squeezing on itself. His hand grabs yours, a force dragging you to his level on the pavement. He’s not letting you fall behind, his legs giving the pace as you follow him, left, right, left, right… You’re almost there. You’re almost done.

It gets to the point of the route where Changmin bends down and searches through the bush. Your backpack is quickly found, thrown over his shoulder. He’s carrying both now, one on his back and one on his front, leaving you leaping behind him with a smaller duffel bag on your shoulder. You carry a lot of money with yourself right now. You don’t think you’ve ever seen so much money in one place in your whole entire life.

And then you’re finally there– the police sirens are no longer audible, there are houses all around you and the only thing accompanying the silence are the lampposts and your heavy breathing. Bending over at his waist, Changmin finally lets go of your hand. His fingers grasp the ski mask on his head, tugging it off and letting him finally breathe in the oxygen freely, not restricted by the thick fabric.

Your heart starts to calm down as you take more air into your lungs. Wiping your sweaty hands onto the fabric of your jeans, you unzip the hoodie and fan yourself with your shirt, hating the way it’s sticking to your sweaty skin. 

It’s calm. Quiet. Just like any other day. Tonight, it feels a bit strange.

Changmin looks up at you, hair messy sticking up everywhere, his sweaty forehead glistening a little in the moonlight. A heartbeat passes by of you two just staring into each other’s eyes before his lips turn into a lazy grin, the dimple on his cheek showing itself to you in its full glory. It’s a strange situation to smile in, but it still makes your heart leap and thunder, a similar expression taking over your face. Then, he laughs. Like it’s funny. Now, this is getting ridiculous.

Still, you can’t help but mirror him. He must be crazy. Surely, you’re both going insane. 

Shaking his head, he straightens his back and takes a step forward to where you’re standing, offering his hand to you for a high-five. When you meet him in the middle, he locks his fingers with you, squeezing your palm with his. “Almost there.”

“Almost there,” you repeat, nodding. 

Now, all it takes is to settle the loans and leave. Leave fast, that is.

You take both of the bags into your hands and slowly, quietly enter your house. Changmin doesn’t follow you– he’s on to the second to last part of your plan as you walk up the stairs to your room and lock the door behind you. Unzipping the bags and dropping the money onto the rug in the middle of the floor, your breathing heavy as you prepare to count, you crouch and let your eyes wander for a bit along the notes in the middle of your room. 

You’re rich. Only for a moment, though. You try to salvage the feeling the best you can– the satisfaction doesn’t hit your brain, though. You can’t fake it. You can’t make yourself believe a lie.

Pulling yourself together, your fingers slip across the smooth surface of each bill, your brain working fast as you rustle with the cotton. The amount gets added up, the sum growing bigger and bigger, and after each ten thousand, you put a rubber band on the roll and drop it back into one of the bags. 

You’re using your school bag to carry the money to settle your family’s debt. There’s something deeply ironic about the sentiment. It almost makes you chuckle.

The light pink backpack gets filled with expensive pieces of paper, each roll lifting the tiniest bit of weight off your shoulders. Only a few more and you have enough, you think– and although you hate to admit it, the remaining sum you see scattered across your floor is less than the amount you expected. It’s okay, though– you know how to live with nothing. You’ll survive. You’ll get through it. 

After you’re done counting, you zip up the bag. Shaky hands reach for the last notes on the floor. You take out the envelope you hid under your pillow and put the money inside before you hesitantly drag out the piece of paper you’ve treasured inside, letting your eyes scan over the last words you’re leaving for your sister.

My sweet Aerin. 

Don’t look for me. Don’t worry about me. You’re safe now and everything is going to be okay. Take care of mum while I’m gone and make sure to study well so you get into a good university and make your big sister very proud. There are some things you are too young to understand, but I’m sure you’ll get it when you’re older. 

Please don’t hate me. I’m always thinking about you. We will meet again one day.

Love, Y/N. :) 

P.S.: keep this money safe. Only use it when you really need it. 

The corners of your eyes burn, making you blink away the tears. Although your heart wishes for one last hug, one last goodbye, you know you can’t grant yourself the benefit. If you held your sister for a second, you know you’d want to hold her forever– and that’s something you can’t do anymore. Not after what’s done. You can’t look back and keep holding on to something so selfishly– there’s no going back after what you’ve done. You’re a criminal now– a proper one, but you did it all for your family. You hope that one day, at least your sister might understand.

Wiping the stray tear that’s rolled down your cheek, you breathe in to calm your erratic thoughts. Putting the letter back in and sealing the envelope, all while simultaneously gathering all the bags, you walk into your sister’s room and leave the envelope under her pillow. 

Her sleeping body is still shorter than yours, but she’s no longer so little. She’s grown so much over the years. The thought of not seeing her grow into an adult pains you, but it’s the price you have to pay for her comfort. 

You close the door to her room quietly. You walk down the stairs of a house you can no longer call a home, foot stepping over the threshold of a place you’re never coming back to. You don’t allow yourself to look behind you. You don’t allow yourself to say a proper goodbye.

The jog towards the car parked in your driveway feels like a marathon– you’re slowly running out of breath. You didn’t train hard enough for the responsibilities you’ve taken on your shoulders. It’s like you’re jogging with a bag of rocks on your back.

Changmin opens the door to the passenger’s side for you. The bags are dropped onto the backseat. When he asks you if you’re ready, you don’t look into his eyes when you nod. There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach telling you that he’ll see right through your lie– but you can’t waste any more time than you already allowed yourself back in the house.

Changmin twists the car key in the ignition and starts the car. You drive away towards the other side of the city. Your baby pink school bag is dropped at the gate of the expensive-looking house of which you found the address of on one of the contracts somewhere in the middle of planning your escape. You drive away before anyone notices. Somehow, it feels like by leaving the bag there, you’re losing your youth with it. You can never take that backpack back to school with you. 

But then again, you’re never going back to school. Somehow, you know you lost your youth before you had a physical reminder. Your shoulders hang heavy even without the weight.

The drive is silent. You try to distract yourself by watching the stars.

When you were little, you promised your sister that you would be by her side forever. She was only 6 when she came home from school crying, telling you that her friends all went out alone without her and talked badly about her behind her back. It took everything in you to not go out of your way to hunt down those little heathens and give them a piece of your mind back then, but you remember it as if it was yesterday, telling your sister that ‘It’s okay, because you will always have me,’ as her big eyes glistened with tears, ‘remember, I’m your best friend forever, okay?’.

You don’t really know if she remembers that day. It was ages ago and she made new friends just two weeks after this whole fiasco, forgetting all about it. It stuck in your brain like a sticker, though, the one that you try to peel off but the residue stays behind, tearing at all edges, getting beaten up and looking rather pathetic– just like your words resonating in your brain, bouncing off the walls of your mind.

You broke the only promise you ever meant. 

“You did well,” you hear a voice cut through the silence, the buzzing of the engine not really lullying you to sleep anymore, “you did the best you could.”

Eyes darting to your companion on the driver’s side, you hear yourself let out a soft chuckle. Teeth catching the flesh in your mouth, biting on the inside of your cheek to battle with the tears begging to haze your eyes, you try to focus on his side profile, studying the slope of his nose and the hair falling into his eyes instead, burning this image into your memory. You do everything but think about the events of the night. 

Still, you ask. “Do you think she hates me?”

“I don’t think she could ever hate you, Y/N,” he says, voice tender and sincere, trying his hardest to fight the battle with you, to hold you up when you’re falling.

“I think that one day, she will grow up and she will understand. She will get why you did what you did,” he hums, eyes still sternly glued to the road ahead of him, “she will understand that you did it for her.”

Swallowing hard, for you feel like there’s a lump in your throat, you nod and look back outside of the window. This is something you’re going to need more time to get through, but this is a start– this is something. You have someone that understands. You have someone who shares the burden. 

“Thanks,” you whisper. 

The lampposts blur behind the glass with the speed you’re going at, your surroundings unfamiliar and strange to you. You don’t really know where you are or where you’re heading to– you let Changmin handle that side of the planning, since you don't really care where you’re gonna end up– but the hills and forests cornering the right side of the landscape make you feel strangely at peace. You must be far, far away from Seoul right now. Maybe you’re heading north. You don’t really mind. Maybe you don’t really care.

“How did you even get this car, by the way?” you ask, turning your head back to the boy in the driver’s seat.

“Oh, this?” he snickers, shrugging. “I know a guy. We used to be friends when he lived at the foster home. He aged out of the system like three years ago, but he knows a guy who knows a guy, and he just so coincidentally had this old thing laying around, so I figured we could use it for some time,” he says, nodding to himself. 

Shaking your head in disbelief, you wonder just how far connections can take you in the world. It’s not quite as easy as if you were born to a rich businessman, per se, but you’ll take the off-handed nepotism of the underground world, if it makes your life go smoother– just for the time being, at least. 

“Do you even have a license?” you ask.

“No,” he shakes his head. “But nobody has to know that–”

“Changmin!” you exclaim, terror shaking with your body.

“You really thought I was allowed to drive a car when you got into the vehicle, Y/N? Come on, I’m a foster kid. Do you really think anyone paid for my license?” he laughs, eyes darting to your figure momentarily, forming moon crescents when he notices the look on your face. “My friend taught me how to drive, though! He got adopted a few months ago, a super rich family– can’t say I’m not jealous, but that’s a story for another time–” he hums casually, as if it’s not a big deal, “and they bought him a car. Anyways, we stayed in contact and he let me try it at this empty parking lot, you know, where the abandoned factory is? And–”

Watching him speak, arms flying around the air making him look like an animated character– going as far as comically noticing that the car is heading to the left by itself when the wheel is unoccupied, quickly taking ahold of it with both hands and trying to make it stay on the road– it’s like a weight is slowly being lifted off your shoulders. It all seems so ridiculous. Insane. Crazy. 

A laugh battles out of your throat. Changmin’s eyes meet with yours, a big smile spreading across his face. A dimple appears on his cheek, his essence contagious. 

Suddenly, you can do anything in the world. Nobody can stop you. You fought with your future. You changed the trajectory of your life. You helped your mother. You protected your sister.

What’s a few years in hiding? 

A foolish thought passes by your brain. You don’t dwell on it much longer, but it’s a nice thing to reflect on when you’re alone in the hostel room late at night, hyper-aware of Changmin’s presence on the other side of the bed– because it’s more expensive to get a room with two beds and it doesn’t matter anyway. You will push it back into the corners of your mind, ignoring it until this moment happens. But it’s there– creeping around, waiting for you to pay attention to it– and it says that as long as you have Changmin, you’re sure you can get on with anything. You can get used to this.

“Aren’t you hungry? There’s some snacks in the compartment over there,” he says, pointing towards it. Magically, your stomach starts to churn– he must have said it into existence. It stinks a lot of black magic, if you really think about it. You knew you should’ve been more careful around him.

Still, your hand reaches for the compartment, opening it. There’s an opened pack of Lay’s chips, a bottle of soda, a wrapped sandwich, and a small chocolate bar, wrapped in red packaging, smiling at you brightly from the darkness of the car. It’s looking at you with big heart-eyes, your favorite flavor of them all– peanut butter covered with tasty milk chocolate, a heaven on Earth– and then reality hits you like a truck again, your eyes burning with the realization.

Fingers wrapping around the treat, you study the packaging for a while– as if you weren’t familiar with it already, having the chocolate bar on days where you really felt like you deserved it, on days where you really felt like you earned it. 

When you look up, you see Changmin altering his point of view between the road and your face, a bashful smile playing with his features. “Bought it for you this time,” he notes, “as a new start.”

A sniffle. Your hands shake a little, your lungs betray you with the intake of oxygen. 

“No, you’re not gonna cry on me now,” he panics, shaking his head, “no, no, no. Open the chocolate and eat it, you moron, we don’t have time to be sentimental–” he grunts, although his intentions are too clear even without words– the silent support still makes your weak heart squeeze on itself. 

You laugh, unwrapping the chocolate and taking a bite. Somehow, you manage to let out:

“You remembered.”

“Of course,” he hums, “how could I forget, I mean, you had a whole hour-long dilemma about it back at the gas station–”

“Shut up, you’re ruining it,” you grunt, tearing a piece of the chocolate bar and holding it up in front of his lips, “I’ll share it with you this one time just to make you shut up,” you say, shaking your head.

The boy takes a hold of your wrist to steady it, taking the sweetness into his mouth. He stays silent for a bit as he chews on it, but his fingers still stay wrapped around your skin as he moves your hand away from his face, resting it on your thigh. Warmth covers the back of your palm as he rests his own on it, his digits intertwining with yours. When he squeezes your fist in tender reassurance, you feel your heart skip a beat.

Orange hues appear behind your window as you drive off the highway. The land is still sprouse with buildings, but you enjoy watching the sun slowly waltz onto the sky, greeting you into the new day. Watching the side of his face as he focuses on parking in front of a lone diner in the middle of nowhere, you finally get in tune with the fact that Ji Changmin’s everything you have right now– everyone you can lean on and fall back on. 

Maybe it’s been that way for a while now, but it only downs on you when you’re essentially on the same level now, no illusions playing with your mind– nobody’s son and nobody’s daughter.

“Breakfast!” he exclaims as he turns the engine off, seemingly impressed with his parking skills. When you get out of the car and he marches up to you, putting a cap onto your head and tugging it low to cover your face, ‘just in case’, tugging you by your hand into the diner, you can’t help but wonder– if anyone unsuspecting saw you right now, 

would you look like lovers, or partners in crime?

[noxtivagus]

WHY DID MY TUMBLR LAG LIKE THAT 😭😭

[tonycries]

One More? Please? - G.S.

Synopsis. A kiss always solves everything! But when a kiss turns into something more…well, it’s only a desperate attempt to unseal yourselves from this damned prison realm, right? Right?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, coworkers to lovers, being stuck in that damn box, oral (female), mutual másturbation, spitting, fáce-sítting, máting press, Satoru is down bad for you, chóking, overstim, multiple rounds, créampie, pet names (sweetheart), swearing.

Word count. 4.4k

A/N. Happy belated two months to this blog! Concept inspired by this post by @kingkonoha.

“Maybe we should kiss and see if the box opens?”

“That’s the dumbest fucking thing to ever come out of your mouth.”

“Hey- it works in the movies! True love’s kiss and all-”

You heave out a heavy sigh that makes even the skeleton at your shoulder shake its head in pity. Goddamn, if these curses weren’t going to kill him then you will. 

“I take it back. That’s the dumbest fucking thing to ever come out of your mouth.”

Satoru hooks a thumb over his blindfold to gaze at you with mock seriousness. Oh, how the mighty have fallen - and how you were teetering dangerously close to a stroke with each dramatic bat of his long lashes.

“C’monnn~” he whines, with the flair of someone that was not sealed in an inescapable prison, “Don’t tell me that in all these years you’ve never once been at least a little tempted to kiss me, sweetheart.” 

“I’d rather kiss that dusty skull.” Shooting him a pointed look that makes even the skulls at your feet recoil. It would almost be hilarious if it wasn’t for the fact that you were trapped. In the prison realm. With Gojo Satoru of all people. Possibly forever.

Shit, is this karma for all those times you ditched Satoru with Nanami instead of dealing with him yourself?

Now, Satoru might be going about it with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, but just a few minutes ago when his life flashed before his very eyes at the mere sight of Suguru - or at least, the monster wearing his body - he’d expected some of his favorite memories to be the ones with you in it. 

You - his lil’ coworker - in all your gorgeous, smart-mouthed glory. And maybe if he was lucky, he even expected a couple glimpses of you in his future. Preferably with a giant rock on your finger.

But that’s a story for another time, what he certainly did not expect was for your stupidly heroic (and quite beautiful) ass to jump right in the middle of the prison realm’s ensnarement. 

Although, honestly, right now he doesn’t think he’d want to be locked up in here with anyone but you - and that withering glare you send him. 

Undeterred, Satoru has the audacity to throw his head back and laugh. Laugh. A sound you’ve come to realize over the years, as innocent as it sounds, does not bode well for you or your sanity. 

A sanity that’s been slowly dwindling since your first day of meeting Satoru. Back then, a brash, cocky new teacher that waltzed into the halls of Jujutsu Tech in those pretentious sunglasses like he owned the place. 

Well, not that he was any different right now. Lounging over some disgruntled skeletons, you half-expected him to pull out a deck chair and start sunbathing amidst the bones. Your begrudging coworker - and occasional bane of your existence - seemed right at home. 

You, however, were decidedly not having the time of your life. 

“I swear, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you grumble, wincing at the bones prodding you from almost every angle. 

“Can you blame me?” he hums, now fully tugging down his blindfold to hang around his neck, “It’s not every day I get to spend quality time with my favorite person in the world.”

You scoff, strangely self-conscious as those striking blue sweep your figure from head to toe. “Lucky me. Well why don’t you spend this quality time helping me figure out how the hell we can get out of here.”

“I already told y-”

“Anything but that.”

With a sulky huff, Satoru peers down at you, “Then we just wait till someone gets us out of here. I’m sure Megumi-chan is just tearing his emo hair out trying to unseal this thing.”

“...”

“You’re absolutely correct, Yuji then. Or…” he tilts his head towards a sad pile of bones, “We end up like our little friend over there. Though I’d make a far better looking skeleton-”

You don’t hear the rest of Satoru’s rant over the small noise of concern that falls from your lips. Something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach at the fact that yes you really were stuck in the prison realm with Gojo Satoru. Possibly forever. And no this wasn’t some strange dream like when you and Shoko accidentally raided the wrong brownie box in the kitchen.

Shit. 

And perhaps it showed on your face, because you’re jolted out of your reverie by warm fingers intertwining with yours. Grounding. Satoru’s eyes now searching yours with an intensity that made you squirm uncomfortably. 

“Hey, we’ll figure this out, okay?” he mutters softly. “Remember that time we accidentally set the training ground on fire?” leaning in closer now, “Or that mission we got chased by that cursed vending machine?”

You roll your eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite yourself. “Yeah, and then you nearly got us killed trying to order a sweet tea. ”

Satoru chuckles, squeezing your hand reassuringly. “See? It worked out, didn’t it? It always does, sweetheart.” 

And if your heart does a strange little lurch, well, then you just blame it on the femur jabbing into your side. 

All is quiet in your little hell. That is, until.

“Hey, Satoru…does kissing really work in the movies?” 

You barely catch the way Satoru’s breath hitches ever-so-slightly as he leans in closer. eyes sparkling with mischief. And oh you knew that look - one that was usually accompanied by a lecture by Yaga, one that sent shivers down your spine. He grins, “Well, there’s only one way to find out, hm?”

Embarrassment and amusement bubbles inside you, tumbling out in the form of a barely-audible, “A peck. One.”

“Awww. Eight?”’

“No.”

“Five?”

“Satoru.”

Minty breath fanning your face, “Okay okay, one peck and a kiss to your forehead. C’mon, it’s a bargain~”

Pinching your nose, you sigh out a weary, “This is so stupid. Fine, but if it doesn’t work then I’m strangling you.”

And it’s all that is said before his lips are on yours.  

Soft. Satoru’s lips were so soft. And he tasted so unfairly of caramel apples and sweet, sweet mischief. Just like him. Feather-light and fleeting - yet the kiss burns into your brain with an intensity that you strangely didn’t mind.

It’s over before you know it. The cold air hits your lips as Satoru’s words ring in your ears, a disappointed little, “Aw, that didn’t work.”

Barely even risking a glance at the still very sealed realm, your body reacts before your mind - the expensive cotton of his uniform collar soft against your fingers as you pull Satoru towards you with a sense of urgency you can’t quite explain.

And then you’re kissing him. And he’s kissing you because shit this is all that Satoru’s been dreaming about since he turned 23 and suddenly realized that oh you were frighteningly everything that he ever wanted. 

“S-Satoru,” you whisper, breathless against his lips. 

“Shhhh, my girl. One more. Didn’t work.” 

His lips are searing on yours. Urgent and greedy, because fuck if it took getting trapped in the prison realm to finally kiss you then God knows when he’ll be able to again. 

Which is why he breathes you in like he doesn’t have enough time, and probably never will - even in this godforsaken box where time never passes. 

“Shit. O-one more.”

Drinking in your sweet gasps as he intertwines his tongue with yours, tasting how sinfully delicious you were. Satoru’s hands wander the expanse of your body, cupping your head to kiss you deeper, snaking down to squeeze your ass - and everything in between. 

Pulling away ever-so-slightly with a playful bite to your bottom lip, he leaves a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. The disappointed whine that leaves your pretty mouth makes all the blood in Satoru’s body rush to his cock. 

“Sweetheart.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, lips ghosting over your racing pulse. “Y’think I kissed the wrong lips?”

Oh? 

Satoru’s words send a jolt of electricity running down your spine - all the way down to your heated cunt. “W-what?” you managed to choke out, cheeks flaring as he raises his eyes to meet yours and-

Oh.

Oh, shit. If the curses weren’t going to kill you then Satoru sure might. 

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by Satoru carefully jostling the two of you so that he’s lying on his back, your body manhandled to straddle his pretty face. 

“Satoru, when you mean ‘wrong lips’...here?” you trail off, still reeling from him and the abrupt change in position and him. 

“Exactly what I mean,” he chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating beneath your dripping cunt. “Now, spread ‘em wider f’me. Let me taste you- Need it s’bad.”

Body moving as if on autopilot, your knees part wider to let him greedily take in the sight of your soaked panties. Beads of slick seeping through the thin fabric each time his hot breath meets your cunt. 

But not for long - the cool air hits you before you realize what’s happening. Because Satoru is ripping your flimsy panties off with one hand. Throwing it behind to God-knows-where with the urgency of a madman. 

“Shit, so wet f’me already.” he groans, mouth watering at the obscene sight of you clenching around nothing. “S’gorgeous. You really are perfect everywhere, huh?” he mutters through lazy, languid kisses along your thighs. Tongue darting out just so to leisurely trace circles along the heated skin. 

Strong arms wrap around your thighs, the stretch nothing with the two long fingers spreading your swollen folds apart. Your face burns from just how adoring Satoru looks below you.

You buck into his touch, “Hngh- Please. Wan’ your mouth on me.”

And perhaps the great Gojo Satoru decided to be merciful for once in his life, because without another word, he’s surging forward. Tongue flicking out to tease your sloppy entrance, pooling your juices before tipping his head back, back, back to let it slide down his throat so sinfully.

Shit, Satoru could just cum in his pants right now, of course you taste heavenly. Better than he could’ve ever imagined on any lonely night. 

You shudder as he flattens his tongue across your folds, sliding teasingly between them, grazing your swollen clit just barely at an unhurried rhythm that almost has Satoru forgetting where he was. But quite frankly, he couldn’t give less of a fuck about it either.

“This what you wanted, sweetheart?” he hums around your clit, the vibrations making you squeal. Sucking gently, tongue rolling harshly against your bundle of nerves, over and over- “Cause it’s what I’ve been wanting for years.”

The words ring in your ears almost as much as the lewd squelches below. Years?

“F-fuck- feels hngh- What do you mean y-years, Satoru?” 

Oh, Satoru thinks he could pass out just at the way you whine out his name so prettily. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, a hand hastily snaking down to unbuckle his pants. “Mhmm~ Couldn’t go a day without sparring with you where I didn’t think of bending you over and tasting you right there y’know.”

Your eyes snap down to meet Satoru’s hazy, half-lidded ones. Something dark and feral shining within them. And right now, thighs wrapped around his head, you don’t think he’s ever looked happier. White locks splayed out, a fucked-out expression on his face as his tongue bullies past your folds, you could feel the slight smile curling his lips against you. 

It’s overwhelming - both his confession and the way Satoru was making out with your cunt like a man starved.

Nose-deep in your pussy, tongue alternating between its abuse on your throbbing clit and dipping in and out of your sloppy hole at a maddening pace. Mouth only speeding up ruthlessly at the way you convulse and grind involuntarily on top of him.

God, Satoru was going insane at the way your walls were sucking him up so good, clamping down with each push of his tongue. 

“Shit- made jus’ f’me. You like that, don’t you?” he growls against your cunt, voice hoarse with desire. “Like fucking my face with your pussy?”

“Oh! Ngh, yes Satoru- L-love it-”

A bruising grip on your hips, encouraging you to rock against his face. Harder. Tongue more desperate. He couldn’t get enough. Meeting your every grind, tongue lapping at your cunt so obscenely. 

Breaths ragged and hot against your cunt, drinking you in with the desperation of a man that wouldn’t mind giving up air for your essence. And it was Satoru - of course he wouldn’t mind.

Especially with the large hand snaking up your thigh, going from drawing reassuring patterns at your hips to rubbing tight, little circles on your pulsing clit. Hasty, and urgent - like he had no time to waste. “Tha’s right, my girl. Give it up for me,”

Every cell in your body is on fire, every nerve ending singing with pleasure at the way Satoru plays your body like an instrument. 

“M’close, Satoru- Hah- s’close.” you moan breathlessly, a hand tangling in his soft strands. Using it as leverage to ride Satoru’s pretty face just the way you like it.

But you didn’t have to - because Satoru seems to already know exactly what to do. Exactly how to quirk his tongue just right to brush against all your most sensitive spots. Exactly how to match the rhythm of his abuse on your clit to the way he was tonguefucking you into delirium. Exactly how to look at you with such a hungry expression that devours you almost as much as his mouth. 

“Cum f’me, sweetheart.”

Satoru didn’t even have to ask. Because you’re cumming with a strangled gasp of his name. White-hot pleasure coursing through you like lightning, body trembling as you cum all over Satoru’s pretty face. 

Hands moving your limp, boneless hips across his face, forcing you to ride out peak after peak on his red lips.

As the blood roaring in your ears bates, and you blink back your vision, the first thing you see are those familiar blue eyes gazing up at you. Holding you steady, lips brushing gentle kisses along your inner thighs. 

Oh, how beautiful he was like this.

“S-S’toru?” you mewl, still sensitive from your orgasm as Satoru shifts underneath you to sit you prettily in his lap.

“Mhm?” he nuzzles your neck.

“One more. It didn’t work.”

Oh, if you knew the only way to shut up Gojo Satoru was to say something like this then you would’ve done it a lot sooner. 

But Satoru’s stunned silence doesn’t last for long, because he grins, low and sultry, “You’re right. It didn’t work.”

The metallic clinking of a belt echoes in the stuffy chamber as Satoru hastily pushes down his pants. Cock springing free to hit his lower abs, “What a shame.”

You blink at the sheer size of him - he was going to split you in two. It was unfair, really. Water is wet. Gojo Satoru has a big dick. 

But oh was he pretty - so pretty.  Prominent veins glistening in the dim lighting, fat tip flushed your favorite shade of delicate pink, leaking furiously in between your thighs.

Gulping, you reach out to wrap your hand around his achingly hard cock. So warm and heavy in your hands. “Y-yeah, what a shame.”

Both of you watch - entranced - at the way he twitches in your grasp at the mere sound of your voice. A maddening little bump! bump! bump! against your palm as you begin pumping him slowly - so agonizingly slow. 

“Oh- Feel s’good, sweetheart.” Satoru hisses lowly as you swipe at the precum beading at this head. Thumbing teasingly under his sensitive slit, tracing delicately along his veins. 

And by God does it do something to you to see the great Gojo Satoru falling apart for you, hair tousled, lips kiss-bitten, and eyes looking at you like he wanted to positively eat you alive. It made your cunt throb so desperately, slick forming a dark wet patch on his trousers. 

Not one to be left behind, his long fingers deftly snake down to your dripping cunt. Not wasting any time before bullying his fingertips past your swollen folds, curling expertly to press down against that one spot that has your fist faltering on his cock. Hard. 

Pretty little moans left your lips at the way Satoru so easily matches your pace. Thrusting knuckle-deep into your pussy in and out - hitting that spot over and over.

“Shit, Toru- s’deep inside me. I’m- hngh-”

Satoru was in heaven, really. You were so warm and wet around both his fingers and his throbbing cock. 

Only two thoughts running through his mind right now - 1. He was right, your hands were softer and more sinfully delicious around his swollen cock. And 2. The hardest battle he’s ever fought was probably right now - at your mercy, trying not to spill all over your hands because he’d be damned if he finally scored the girl and came in two seconds.

Shit, he thinks fingers almost erratic now, he needs you to cum. Right now. 

As if sensing his urgency, your moves become more frantic, Satoru’s brows furrowing at the way you increase your pace. His hips twitch, as if trying to thrust into your fist. matching your pace as you start stroking him harder, faster. 

Ah, but alas, the great Gojo Satoru’s reputation precedes him. 

“Oh, fuck- M’gonna-” And soon enough, you’re seeing stars behind your eyes - or maybe those were tears - as you cum. Hard. 

Body moving before your mind, you’re clenching around Satoru’s fingers, grinding down so ferally as you edge him closer and closer. “C’mon, Toru. One more, right?” you whisper brokenly, lips ghosting his ear.

Breath coming in short, strained gasps of what sounded like your name now, “Oh- fuck ngh- so close.” he warns, voice hoarse. “If you keep doing that, I won’t be responsible for what happens next.”

You smirk, raising a brow, “Is that a threat, Satoru?”

Willing his fucked-out eyes open, they bore into yours as he utters, “No, ah- it’s a p-promise.”

Without warning, Satoru clasps your wrists, forcing you to stop pumping him. The disappointed mewl threatening to spill from your lips is cut off just as your back hits the ground.

Slam!

You think you could almost get whiplash from how swiftly Satoru had you caged and splayed out so shamefully beneath him. 

You whine, “But you didn’t even get to-”

“Fuck, not now. Gotta feel you or else m’gonna cum so embarrassingly all over your fist.” He rests his throbbing erection laid out so enticingly across your stomach, leaking hot precum onto your skin. And that makes you shut up, eyes mapping where it ended and realizing that yeah, you might’ve faced more mercy with the curses outside of this box. “Besides. One more, right?”

And before you can respond, Satoru’s spitting on you once. Twice. Thrice.

You flinch as the wads of saliva hit your dripping cunt, mixing with your slick so obscenely as Satoru smears it across your swollen folds. Your mouth drops into a soft oh! of disbelief as he promptly pops his thumb into his mouth, groaning at the taste. 

“Shit.” Satoru hisses lowly, “One more might just not be enough.”

Not wasting a moment longer, he’s bullying his throbbing cock into your snug cunt. Head thrown back as your plush walls desperately try to accommodate his size.

“Oh. Oh shit hah- should’ve been locked up here ngh- sooner.” he groans, words straight from his cock. “Feel s’heavenly around m-me.” Because God Satoru thinks he wouldn’t even mind staying here for the rest of his life if it meant he got to have you like this.

You moan at the positively delicious stretch of your pussy, plush walls unable to decide between pushing him out and milking the soul out of him. “Hah- Toru s’too big. I can’t-” 

“You will.” he grits out, teeth clenched and brows furrowed as he focuses on letting you adjust. Pressing inch by fucking inch. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he fights that feral part of himself that just wants to plunge into your pretty pussy till his tip kisses your cervix, and you’re drunk on nothing but his cock.

But he didn’t have to - because you’re immediately wrapping your legs around his toned waist, pulling Satoru to you recklessly until his heavy balls smack your ass. Tufts of snowy white hair - already so wet with your slick and his precum - finally meeting your cunt.

“Ah! Shit, s’full Toru.” you keen, body bowing into his.

There’s not even a hair's breadth between your bodies now as Satoru chuckles darkly. “You little minx. Thought you couldn’t handle me, but you really wanted to be split apart on my cock, huh?”

You feel almost shy under his gaze as you mumble out a quiet little, “Well you did say one more.”

Ah, Satoru thinks deliriously, if you aren’t Mrs. Gojo by the time you two get out of this then there’s seriously something wrong with him. 

But he doesn’t tell you that. Instead with a satisfied smirk, he claims your lips in a searing kiss, sucking your tongue so lewdly as he did with your cunt. Parting for only a second before pressing his lips to yours again. And again. And again, as if it hurt to part.

“Mhm. Always wanted to do this, sweetheart.” he hums against your pretty lips. “Fuck ever since you hah- walked in on that first day.” 

Kissing you sweetly with a tenderness that doesn’t translate to his hips as pulls back, back, back. All the way till his angry, hard tip was just grazing your sloppy entrance. “One more.”

Body moving before his mind, his hips start fucking into your dripping cunt recklessly. Satoru doesn’t fuck you with the finesse he imagined he would all these years, rough, harsh thrusts fueled by pure need and all the desperation from these last few years.

In one, fluid movement, the burn of the stretch hits you before the realization that Satoru has thrown your legs over his sculpted shoulders. 

“Ah- So good, Toru. Oh my god- hah-” you mewl at the change in angle. His pulsing dick expertly hitting that one spot inside you which has your words slurring together, body arching off the floor to press so impossibly close against him. 

And, well, Satoru isn’t any better - because he’s slamming his cock into you mindlessly. Hitting that spot over and over. 

With one hand, he caresses your stomach. Whispering out a ragged, “Feel me inside? Feel me right…” Pressing his palm down hard, “Here.”

The other forces you to look up at him, drinking in your whines of “Yes yes yes, can feel you s-so deep hngh- inside me, Toru.” 

You’re so cockdrunk and full of Satoru that you barely notice the hands groping their way down your body. Catching harshly on your swollen clit, starting to draw, quick, frenzied circles that match the cadence of his hips smacking into yours. 

“Look at me.” he murmurs raspily, “Open your mouth.”

And you can do nothing but take it, tongue lolling out so lewdly for the warm stream of spit that hits it. Once. Twice. 

You look up at him with teary eyes, as you take it all -  anything and everything he was giving. And it makes Satoru bow his head with a fucked-out groan, cock twitching so animalistically as it keeps plunging inside you roughly. Deft fingers on your clit becoming more desperate.

Harder. Faster. Balls squeezing so painfully. Like a lamb to slaughter, he was going to eat you up - and you were going to let thim.

You squeal at the overstimulation, hips bucking up for more more more-

“God, sweetheart, you don’t know what you do to me.” he moans, voice strained with desire and the euphoria of getting everything he’s wanted for so long. It was driving him insane. “Now c’mon. One more. Give me one more like my good girl.”

“Hngh- yes- Toru!”

You don’t even know what “one more” means anymore - all you do know is that you’re cumming and cumming all around Satoru’s unforgiving cock. Walls fluttering so snugly, your body convulses as you cream around his cock. Nails dragging down the expanse of his sculpted back, Satoru’s name leaving your bruised lips and into the heady air like a prayer every time his tip kisses your cervix. His new favorite melody.

And that seems to be what makes him snap as well - because with a final, sloppy thrust, he’s painting your walls such a sinful white. Pumping thick, hot ropes of his cum into your quivering cunt. 

“Shit- yeah, my girl. Take it. Take it all f’me.” Satoru shudders above you, head thrown back, chest heaving as he fucks you through your high. Movements nothing more than shallow, mindless little thrusts to get you both off so animalistically. 

It was so fucking filthy - and exactly what you needed so badly. He was exactly what you needed so badly. 

Now, Satoru only had to take one look as you use him so obscenely for your pleasure - eyes dazed, drool trickling down the corner of your mouth - before he thinks he might just cum again. And again. And again until he physically couldn’t anymore.

But first…

Pulling out of your heavenly pussy with a lewd pop! His long fingers delicately collects the mixture of slick and cum now gushing out of you obscenely. 

Aw, what a waste, Satoru muses as it pools below you sinfully. If it was up to him he wouldn’t waste a single drop from your pretty cunt. 

But no matter. 

Abruptly, Satoru bullies two fingers into your mouth - forcing you to taste yourself, to taste him. Pressing right at the back of your tongue in a way that has you choking and gagging around him, teary eyes just begging up at him. Perfect - you were so perfect for him. 

Kissing your forehead with a tenderness that doesn’t match his actions, he hums, faux innocence lacing his words, “What a shame, the box didn’t open yet.”

And oh does he love the excitement lighting up your exhausted eyes. Pretty thighs twitching underneath him as a slow, fucked-out little smile curls your lips. 

“One more? Please?”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[butterflytint]

birthday boy

Summary: how the jjk men have birthday sex (p.s. it's their bday)

Pairings: jjk men x fem!reader

Warnings: nsfw, sexual content, morning sex, missionary, oral (giving and receiving)

a/n: i wrote this a while ago for gojo’s bday but never got around to posting it…let’s pretend it’s still his bday

Satoru Gojo

He's a light sleeper so he ends up waking up when you press a soft kiss to his forehead in the morning. With a sheepish smile, he wakes up, his eyes hardly opening.

You wish him a happy birthday, kissing his lips.

He deepens the kiss, lazily throwing an arm around you and before you know it, you’re having sex first thing in the morning.

“-Toru—I had a whole morning planned—ah—I was going to make you breakfast before I gave you your present—it’s why I woke up so early.”

His fingers dig into the flesh of your waist, his breaths shallow and his strokes deep. His blue eyes flick up to your face, watching you struggle to take his cock. He can’t help but crack a crooked smile, his snowy hair falling over his forehead.

“Baby, you’re so cute—thinking I need anything else when I’ve got you.”

The smooth talker he is, you don’t even bother arguing as he flips you over, getting on top.

He beams at you brightly before kissing your lips, “Best gift I could’ve asked for.”

Suguru Geto

He comes to pick you up for “dinner”  which is actually a surprise party you and his friends had planned. Your plans go up in smoke when he sees you in that dress he likes.

You barely make it past a “Happy Birthday” before he’s inside your apartment and shoving the door closed behind him. All the while, he wears a smug smirk, seemingly unsuspecting.

Except you know him all too well, already knowing what was going on in his head.

His lips are on yours and he’s groping at you like he’s never touched you before—or that he’ll never get the opportunity to ever again.

You giggle, “Suguru—we have to go—we have a reservation.”

“The reservation can wait,” the reservation being all your friends waiting for the birthday boy to arrive.

You don’t even argue any further before he has you pressed up against the wall, hand slithering up your thighs to drag your underwear off.

Next thing you know, he’s got your legs wrapped around his waist as he’s ploughing his cock in and out of you.

“Can’t believe you were gonna keep me waiting all night for my present.”

“I was—was gonna make you—work for—for it,” you gasp, feeling the tip of his dick prod deeper inside you.

“On my birthday, too?” he scoffs jokingly, pressing his forehead against yours. “Baby, you’re breaking my heart.”

You claw at his shoulders, gasping for air before your arms wrap around his neck. You bury your face in his shoulder, ignoring the constant notification pings coming from your expectant friends.

Kento Nanami

He’s the type of guy to go about it in a classy way.

He insists on taking you out on his birthday.

When the two of you come back home, you let him unwrap his present (you in a brand new lingerie set).

He’s very tender and gentle with you most the time but on his day, he lets YOU take care of him.

He groans as quietly as possible as you trail soft kisses down his neck, unbuttoning his shirt before kissing down his muscly chest. You work to unbuckle his pants, his eyes growing hazy with desire.

He tips his head back as you finally wrap your lips around his cock, flicking your tongue over the tip. Your hand wraps around his dick from the base, sliding it up and down his length. And he can’t help but buck his hips into your hold.

When you pull your mouth off, a desperate whimper escapes him as he flicks his gaze back down to you.

“Happy birthday, baby” you smile.

Toji Fushiguro

He has you on your back, face buried between your legs while his large hands grasping your thighs enough to bloom everlasting bruises on them.

He can’t help but grin when he pulls whine after whine from you.

Birthdays were never a big deal to him. Why should anyone care so much about getting older? It only reminded him that he was yet another year older than you.

But when you’d treat the day like it was a special occasion—getting all giddy to make him dinner and get dolled up in that lacy dress he loved, kissing him a little extra too, he was so fucking happy to have been born after all.

And no way in hell was he going to pass up the opportunity to unwrap his present after dinner.

He pulls your hands away from your face, “Don’t hide that pretty face from me, wanna hear you scream my name, baby.”

He nearly melts when you whimper, your chest heaving in heavy breaths as your eyes met his.

He lowers himself again, his fingers spreading your folds, his tongue flicking over your clit as you screamed out his name just as he asked.

“There you go, pretty girl,” he chuckles, eating you out because he prefers that over cutting a piece of damn cake on his birthday.

[targaryenluvs]

DELICATE

pairings: dark!coriolanus snow x innocent!wife!reader

warnings: erm we’re back at it with another dark corio! possessiveness, literal murder, threats, vulgarity, nc touching -dumbification/babying, emotional manipulation and vulnerability, sexual undertones and thoughts, ownership?? NOT PROOFREAD

summary: coriolanus had to marry. lucky for him one of the most eligible girls of the capitol was up for grabs. only problem? he hoped his cold exterior would keep her away but nothing broke her sweet spirit. what happens when he finds himself being drawn to her light? and how far was he willing to go to keep it untainted and all to himself?

word count: 2.09k words

a/n: i swear i can only think of dark ideas for him because he is practically crayz - i loved this concept tho so enjoyyyy - annoyed i can’t find any post-lucy gifs snd i’ve already used the other one help me plz

taglist: @sleepydang @aspieundercover @darktrashsoulbear @3lliesrifle @rafeysbafey @zejjef @themorriganisamonster @cryfordemie @winterblu2 @earthangel-111 @taylarxse @alexameliamg @katastrophic04 @jjggdfvvy @joshwifeyslaymamaballs @10ava01 @kis9na @princessdaella @princessloveweird @prettybiching @justacaliforniandreamer @bxtchopolis @witchafterz @har-rison-s

PART TWO

coriolanus wanted nothing more than a relaxing night. he’d been at a campaign meeting for about four hours and he’d gotten absolutely nothing out of it.

he was in the right mind to fire them all and work it himself but he knew he couldn’t. all he wanted was to go home, have a bath drawn for him, eat dinner with you and go to sleep.

coriolanus had seen a number of weird things in his life but nothing was weirder than seeing you, hanging up the laundry to dry. you’d stopped him in his tracks but hadn’t yet noticed his presence as you hummed to yourself and went about your business. after staring in confusion for a few minutes he cleared his throat, “y/n. what are you doing?” you turned towards him with a smile, “it’s christmas! so i sent the staff home for the rest of the day so they could be with their families. don’t worry i had them prepare your bath, dinner and everything else. there were some things left to do so i thought, why not do them myself? i cleaned my room and yours, ironed the previous batch of laundry and placed them away, dusted the library and i was hanging up the laundry until you showed!” you beamed as you continued to hang the clothing.

coriolanus took a seat on one of the lawn chairs as you continued. he decided to watch you, to make sure you were okay. because who on earth wants to do laundry? that was the very reason you had so many servants. but here you were.

“you can head inside corio, no need to wait for me!” you said sweetly. coriolanus was a strong man, always rational. but god when you spoke so sweetly to him- no. “there’s no need, i’ll wait till you’re done.”

the sun was hanging low as the last rays illuminated the dining room. you’d set out candles, flowers and other pieces on the table. back home you loved setting the table, until your father would reprimand you for doing something you didn’t need to. what will people say if my daughter is acting as a servant?

but right now you felt at ease.

you had a good life. good friends which were rare to find in the capitol. good family and a good husband. he was proper, took care of you in every way, even if he didn’t love you, you were grateful to be married to someone you liked. admired. you’d heard whispers of corio’s childhood, his depleted resources and poor upbringing. but you couldn’t care less. he was more of a man than anyone you knew. and he was extremely pretty, your parents would’ve probably married you off to whomever they thought would help with social standings so this match? a lifeline.

coriolanus kept himself in check. he was up for presidency, his name and wealth restored and he was respected and feared. you were a diamond in the rough. whilst all the other girls in the capitol were, special, to say the least, you weren’t like them. first of all, he could tolerate you. like you even. you were exceptionally smart, well-read and spoken, respectful of those worthy but even those beneath you. you were kind, not the fake kind of the capitol. kind to everyone, helping everyone however you could.

and to him it was more than perfect. someone kind would be easy to have, easy to be married to. he knew from the second he saw you as marriage material that you’d never endanger those around you. you cared, enough to put your happiness to the back of the line. you’d be easy to control. after the wedding he expected you to be clingy, desperate for his love and affection. as any girl would from their husband, but you kept your distance. you didn’t push yourself on him, you did your duty. you did what was required and more. but you always listened, listened to him.

so he assumed you’d be easy to be married to, but he was always in awe of you. your sweet smiles every time you passed eachother in the halls, in the morning at breakfast and at night for dinner. always catering to him.

“what should i wear?” “you can choose.” “you tell me.” “it’s your choice.” and god did it inflate his ego. you were always asking about him, how his day was, what he did, who he saw etc. but it wasn’t just small talk, you were always listening. absorbing his words like a sponge, wide eyes, head nodding along dumbly. he loved it. and over the year he found himself, caring, on the inside at least.

every time you’d go out there were hungry eyes consuming you. your face, body everything. and he wanted to personally pluck out each eyeball and feed it to their families. so again, overtime, he’d shield you, protect you. his sweet wife who knew nothing of what the others wanted to do to her. a hand on your back, an arm around your waist, a peck on your forehead and his large red coat around you. all for show right?

he wanted to puke.

the smell of cabbage wafted to his nose and he was oh so close to putting this fist through the wall. who on earth-

you were humming, again. “corio!” your voice was music to his ears, corio, no one said it to him anymore. not even tigris. but he only liked, only wanted it to come from you. “dinner is served, some of your favourites are here. i asked tigris what you use to eat as a kid. ooh, you never told me you liked cabbage, me too! guess that’s another thing we have in common.” you beamed as you walked over with a bottle of wine, “tell me when to stop.”

he eyed you up the entire time. trying to catch a fleck of disgust whilst you ate, andddd, nothing. you weren’t lying, you actually liked it. he swallowed his own fear and began to eat.

“mm, i was wondering what you wanted me to wear tonight? i’d like to match corio, if that’s okay with you.” corio smiled slightly, “i would like to match. i have something i would like you to wear tonight sweetheart.” your eyes darted forwards as the word fell, sweetheart.

you couldn’t help the smile that came to your face, he only used terms like that in public. and based on his reaction afterwards, of which there was none, it meant that he probably didn’t even realise. or he did, you could never read him.

the red dress did things to coriolanus. the idea of you in it has his head spinning, but to actually see you in it? he wanted to throw you onto his bed and never let you out.

but to you it looked as if he was studying the dress rather than looking at you in it. “you look good.” you grinned, “thank you corio! i love your suit, you look very handsome.” you straightened his suit as he looked over your shoulder, your back was bare. “do you have a throw?” you quickly nodded and picked it up from the dresser. “good.” you already got a million stares in ordinary clothing, tonight was going to test his patience and anger.

the gala was gorgeous. for once there wasn’t ugly statues and weird color matches. a clean and pristine white hall, chandeliers, gold accents.

your heels clicked on the floor as coriolanus held his arm for you. “your hand please.” corio stared, waiting for your further explanation. “when we link arms your arm is too high for me. i end up with my arm at my neck.” you laughed as he lent his hand, which you gladly took.

stares and compliments at every corner of the room, everyone was looking at you two. the future president and first lady of panem. a match made in the capitol. you and coriolanus made the rounds, talking to present sponsors, potential sponsors and other candidates, much to coriolanus’s distaste. after a while you realised you were sort of just standing there, so you excused yourself for a drink and a closer view of the band.

“you look, ravishing.” charles operman. a sight which no one wanted to see, but to you he was just an ex-peer of the academy. “charles! thank you, corio picked it out for me.” you’d missed the way his jaw clenched at the mention of your husband, but you were to engrossed by the angelic singer and band. “you know, i always thought we’d end up together.”

the abruptness of his sentence had you choking on your drink, “excuse me, i’m married charles. i’m sorry if you thought that we would be together, i see you as a friend. i’d hate to lose a friend.” you smiled as he got uncomfortably closer and leaned into your ear, hand on your bare back.

coriolanus’s grip on his cup was tightening as he listened to lucky drone on and on. he wanted to see the life leave charles’s eyes, maybe his head would make as a nice present for you. “excuse me.” he nodded his head as he placed his cup on a passing waiters tray. you were helpless, and he was here to help you.

his breath was hot in your ear and you could smell the liquor on him as he was grabbed from you. “coriolanus, sir.” charles mocked salute as coriolanus stared at him, maybe he thought if he stared long enough hed burn into the floor. coriolanus rarely smiled, but this one was unsettling to say the least.

“if you ever put your hands on my wife, look at her, speak to her. it will be the last time you do so. i might just call in a favor with dr gaul, i hear your fond of snakes?” charles’s eyes widened, he hated snakes. he couldn’t even watch the 10th hunger games, the second he saw the snakes he ran to the bathroom and hurled.

“when i become president, you better keep yourself in line. it’d be horrible to see your family in the games no?” charles took a step back, “you can’t do that, i’m capitol.” coriolanus drew back,

“you won’t be for long.”

you couldn’t believe your eyes, of course he’d protect you but, threatening? he’d never do it right? the shutters of cameras had you reaching for corio, “can we leave my love?” coriolanus turned to you, “of course sweetheart.”

he’d stayed up for a long time. a smile came to his face when he remembered the sound of charles’s neck snapping. the door creaking open revealed a disheveled you, “corio? are you awake?” he sat up as you released a breath.

“what is it y/n?” you took a shy step forward, “i uhm, i can’t stop thinking about charles. he scared me, i didn’t know what to do corio. i-” you couldn’t stop the tears from falling as coriolanus swiftly got out of bed, helping you into his bed. “i- can i sleep here tonight? please?”

this was definitely not how he first expected to have you in his bed, but how could he say no to you? your hair in its braid, messy and lose, puffy eyes and tear stained face. he wished he’d first seen you cry underneath him but he’d take what he could get. what he didn’t expect was for him to like this, the scene of you crying, needing him. he was the one who could help you, console you, coddle you.

coriolanus nodded as he moved back to the bed, tucking himself and you in softy, caressing your hair and kissing your forehead. god he’d held out for so long, denied himself and his feelings but having you in his arms was all he could ever want, but the idea of being in you flooded his head.

would you cry like this? would you shout and scream? did you like it soft and sweet? he couldn’t be soft and sweet, he’d savour the moment but he loved the idea of unravelling you, he’d be the only one to see you like this, him being the only one to make it happen.

you curled into his chest, like a baby. your soft cries and whimpers went straight to his crotch and soon enough you were asleep.

his sweetheart, his delicate little wife.

corios hand slipped downwards and into your pants, he promised himself he just wanted to feel but god you made it difficult. he saved you tonight, didn’t he deserve a reward? didn’t matter if you detested he had you where he liked. so he slowly rolled over and placed you on the bed.

your eyes fluttered at the change of placement but he couldn’t care less. he was done waiting.

you squirmed underneath him in your sleep but his worries faded away.