#yall better watch before she takes it down!!
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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?
#deoboyznet#the boyz x reader#ji changmin x reader#changmin x reader#the boyz oneshot#the boyz drabbles#the boyz imagines#the boyz scenarios#the boyz fanfic#changmin drabble#changmin oneshot#changmin angst#changmin scenarios#changmin imagines#changmin fic#the boyz fic#the boyz angst
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HE’S NOT MY BOYFRIEND — y.o
⛤ yuuta okkostu x fem! reader
How else would yuuta react if you denied your relationship in front of everyone? You obviously weren’t gonna be let off easy.
cw. smut. (kinda) exes to lovers-ish. thigh riding. semi-public sex. library sex. dry humping. oral (f. receiving). groping. marking. pet names (princess). face grabbing. slight manhandling. +18!
wc: 1.1k
a/n: yall i got a full time job and I’m doing school and i really want to post my fics more bc i love sharing my writing and hopefully this doesn’t sound rushed lol.
“He’s not my boyfriend!”
You practically had to shout it out loud for it to be known. How many times did you have to say it to get through Maki’s skull as she was constantly teasing you about how you and Yuuta used to act like two middle schoolers in love, laughing about it in front of everyone.
You wanted to craddle yourself into a ball hearing it all made you remember the soft moments you had together and then made you cringe about it in every being of your body.
You held hands and tried to catch the perfect moment to kiss but was too anxious to, spent everyday together before he left, he promised to send a call, text or at least email and now he’s back, decides to act all cool, his attitude changes only slightly like he’s all that now, he had fixed his hair to side and his demeanor turns cold. Everything about him and his current presence ticked you off. He didn’t have to stay. You wished he’d go back.
Did you really wish that? Or did you need him to trap you in the darkest aisle of a library where he caught you. Whispering in your ear to take all those awful words you said back while he’s pinning you against the tall shelf, his pelvis is rocking against yours, his lips ambushing your neck. He’s just kissing you and touching you all over, making sure you don’t escape him either. He’s squeezing your tits a bit too hard, leaving too many hickeys.
“Can we just take a moment—“
“Why should we?” his hot breath hitting the shell of your ear, traveling down your jawline. His hand squishing the sides of your cheeks to turn your head to the side to gain access to your neck. You could feel his wet muscle and his warm lips glide over your skin, his hand on the back of your ass, squeezing it and also pulling you more into him.
The slight change in yuuta was quite scary, he wasn’t as soft as he used to be. He’s leaving marks and his hips are moving recklessly. He knows it will be so much better if he could take your clothes off and be bare already to fuck you like he is your boyfriend, you’re all his.
He guides his leg between your legs under your skirt, his thigh grazing your covered cunt and his hands situated on your hips to rock you against his thigh.
“Didn’t you think it hurt my feelings when you said that in front of everyone?”
You couldn’t look him in the eyes knowing his eyes bore into you, he was looking for an apologetic look from you but you were too distracted by looking down watching as he was driving your hips to desperately drag on his thigh. He was pressing his leg harder into you making you finally let out out moan. The shame you felt when you realized you were in a public place making such noise.
“I was just telling the truth..hah…” your tone with half of regret and moans by yuuta forcing your hips to grind on him, your clit throbbing from the harsh friction and you’re already leaving a damp on his leg.
The way your words were set in annoyance and anger like you truly disregard the fact that you and yuuta never had a thing going on and this frustrates yuuta when he replays how you yelled that he wasn’t your boyfriend.
“I am your boyfriend, i just wanna make sure you don’t forget that princess” He pulls down your bottoms and he’s on his knees with his hands on the sides of your thighs like he’s kneeling to an angel which you were to him and you never thought so with all the built of negativity you had towards him.
“Alright i get it—“
He doesn’t think you do, he wants you to understand that you were his and he was yours. Why would he stop here? He’s already pulling down your underwear and your anxiety strikes at you when he gives your pussy a gentle kiss and you gave out a yelp, you kept your eye down the aisle to see if people would pass by. Your hand is slightly hovering over your mouth, so you’re still emitting small moans.
“C-come on yuuta—quit it already..ah!” You would rather move somewhere with more privacy though yuuta doesn’t care a place, he was too busy making out with your cunt now, his tongue flicked and sucked on your clit.
And it was not enough for him he had to prop your legs on his shoulders that your back pressed against the shelf of books more and you gasp by the sudden feeling of being weightless with your feet off the ground and yuuta buries his lips, his tongue to eat you out.
You cursed under your breath not knowing where to put your hands, you wanted to support yourself to not fall though yuuta would never let that happen and yet also drown in bliss with your hands gripping his black locks. the anxiousness and the pleasure clouding your mind at the same time.
Your trying your best to keep it down and your constant repeated pleas. Yuuta was lapping his tongue from the outside of your walls to your clit and something ignited deep in the pits of your stomach that just made you push your hips further into his face. It doesn’t seem like he was gonna stop anytime, he was so focused his eyes were shut thinking about how good you taste and how he had never got the chance before. he can tell that your twitching to cum soon and your sobs getting a little louder.
“Gonna cum! Gonna cum! Gonna cum!” You squealed, your legs wrapped around the back of his neck and your heels digged into his back, your spine arching off of the shelf and your eyelids flutter.
“Cum on my mouth princess, I’m all yours…” the way his voice melted your heart all over again, causing butterflies to fly in your tummy, made your orgasm come faster but also made you feel shamed and entirely hate it for feeling this way.
The moan of his name being let out so indecently that people might hear or probably did. Feeling the waves of you cumming flow through your body and his mouth hasn’t yet disconnected from you.
Yuuta looks up at you like this was just the beginning. You’re forced to wrap your arms around his neck when his hands comes under behind your knees, you still had no chance of keeping your feet on the floor. He’s already planning to fuck you with the zip of his pants and his cock freeing out, make you cry out a million times repeatedly that your his and he’s yours.
Now you’re gonna have to take everything you said back.
#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk yuta#jjk yuuta#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#yuuta okkotsu smut#yuuta smut#yuta okkotsu smut#yuta x y/n#yuta okkotsu x reader#yuta x reader#yuta smut#yuuta x reader#yuta okkotsu
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Hi yes i saw hazbin requests were open??? Anything involving pining Lucifer. Or lucifer seeing reader dressed super nice for like a fancy party or something (full makeup, fancy revealing dress, that sorta thing) for the first time. Maybe feelings are revealed? I’m a sucker for pining
I love that we are all so disgustingly thirsty for this man. He deserves it ❤️🔥 but seriously tho…all my Lucifer posts have gotten at least 100 likes in the first day that they’re posted. Like damn yall, we need to talk about our husband more! We all have such good taste 😌 I love our little short king. Thanks for the request. Enjoyyyyyyy~
Notes: fem!reader, reader wears a dress in this one
TW: suggestive themes, hardcore pining, heavy making out
🪽The King of Pining🪽
This morning, Charlie invited everyone to the lobby of the hotel, shouting out that she had great news and a wonderful idea. Husk and Angel grumble about their annoyance with it being too early in the morning and them being way too sober for group activities right now as they plop down on one of the couches. The rest of the group files in, finding spots to relax as Charlie bounces up and down in her spot, bitting her lip and clenching her fists out of pure excitement. You follow along, deciding to stay standing and a bit behind the group, glancing back to see Lucifer coming to join the pack, standing just behind the couch that sat Vaggie and Nifty. You stare at him for a moment and when he finally glances your way, you offer him a sleepy smile and a quick wave of your hand. A small smirk finds its way to his lips as he nods his head at you, quickly looking away after.
“So…what’s the news?” Vaggie finally speaks up once everyone is settled and all eyes are on Charlie standing front and center. “Sooooooo, I had a brilliant idea that will be equally fun and beneficial to the hotel. Ready? Ready for it?” Charlie looks around the group, looking as if she might burst into flames of enthusiasm any moment now. “WE ARE GONNA HOST A BALL!!!”
Angel smirks as he nudges Husk beside him. “Heh, balls.” “She said ‘ball’, jackass. Singular.” Husk spits back, rolling his eyes as he scoots away from Angel a bit.
“It’ll attract new recruits for the hotel! We can mingle, talk about all we have to offer. AH! It’s gonna be soooooo funnnnnn.” Charlie is yelling now, she can’t control herself in the slightest.
Charlie goes into explaining the details- it is to be a huge party with a formal dress code that everyone and anyone is invited to. It’ll be here at the hotel, with an open bar (Husk wants to die) and music! The group lets out noises of mixed emotions, Nifty and Angel shouting out of excitement and anticipation while Husk and Alastor both let out noises of dread. You, on the other hand are nervous but looking forward to having a fun night and getting to know the hotel staff and residents better. As Charlie’s speech ends, the group begins to disperse and talk amongst themselves.
You watch as Charlie approaches Vaggie, shyly dropping to her knees in front of her on the couch so that they are eye level with each other. “Will you…be my date to the ball, Vags?” You can’t help but smile as you watch Vaggie laugh, her cheeks and nose slowly changing color. “Of course, you goofball. You’re my partner. There’s no one else I’d rather go with.” They share a long hug, a beautiful positive energy radiating off of them.
“They’re just adorable, aren’t they?” The low, charming voice that sounds right next to you causes you to flinch a bit, now turning to see the king of hell himself standing beside you. “Oh! Hey. Yeah. They are pretty cute. They make a great couple.” You look back to the two girls holding hands and giggling but Lucifer keeps his eyes on you, taking this opportunity while you’re distracted to examine all the little details of your face up close. Hopefully no one else catches sight of him in this moment of utter hopeless romanticism.
When he finally snaps out of it, he lets out a sigh before putting on his best smile, clearing his throat just to get your attention again. “Speaking of great couples~” And as soon as your eyes land on him again, your lips curved up ever so slightly, his courage quickly leaves him. Lucifer freezes for a moment, mouth going dry as he tried to find a way out of this. Say something you idiot.
“I-I ha! I uh…I wonder what other great couples we’ll see at this party. Maybe some of hell’s highest royalty?” Nervous chuckles just keep rolling from his lips and he’s really hoping you don’t notice the way his hands are shaking as they rest on his cane. One of his trembling hands comes to the collar of his shirt, lightly yanking it down as if that would help bring air back to his lungs, the air you’ve sucked out of him with one simple glance.
“Hm. Yeah. Maybe.” You reply plainly, looking back to Vaggie and Charlie and before you can converse with Lucifer any further, he’s walking off with his tail between his legs, eyes wild and full of doubt. “You’ll be there. You are the king of hell after all, I’m sure everyone will be too focused on you and Charlie to notice any other royals. Are you uhm…planning on going with anyone?” You ask, still watching the two girls near the couch. Your voice stops Lucifer in his tracks, making him pause for a moment as he listens. He turns slowly back to you, wearing a bashful smile as he tucks both his arms behind his back.
“No, actually. I hadn’t even thought of it.” He lies, watching as you finally pull your gaze from his daughter and relax it on him. He slowly saunters back your way, unable to control his wandering eyes. “And what about you? Do you have anyone in mind that you’d want to go with?” And now his nervousness is rubbing off on you, making your voice shake as you respond. “Me? No, no…I’ll probably just tag along with uh…”
As you look around the room, it seems all couples have already paired up. Vaggie and Charlie sat on the couch still, Charlie’s legs strewn over her girlfriend’s lap. Angel and Husk seemed to be having a bit of an argument over what they will wear together. Angel wants to wear all pink but Husk is like FUCK NO. Even Sir Pentious was trembling in front of Cherri, as he looked to he asking her out. Obviously, Alastor is bringing his shadow along. That’s kind of a date…right?
“Uhm I mean, who knows? Maybe I’ll meet someone there.” The pride that inflated Lucifer’s chest just seconds ago seems to suddenly be punctured and drained by your lack of acknowledgment to his flirty hints. He wants to ask you to be his so badly it’s making his chest hurt now. Not his for the night, not his during the party, his all the time, any time he needs you. As he opens his mouth to speak, he hesitates and then decides to let out a heavy sigh instead. “Well..I will see you there.” And with the tip of his head, he finally turned and left you standing alone in a herd of conversing couples.
~night of the party~
You figured there’s no harm in showing up fashionably late tonight. At least, that was your excuse for showing up late. In reality, you were fully ready before the ball even started but your legs were so weak and shaky, you couldn’t find the strength to get yourself out there. So instead, you’re sitting in your room, fully clad in your nicest dress along with some accessories, sunken into your plush bed as you try to steady your breathing. Maybe if I stay here long enough in this dress, I can just say I was there but not actually go…
A knock on your door has you straightening up in your spot, a warm surprised feeling lighting up your chest. “Come in.” You respond, wondering just who was coming to see you right now. You assumed it was Angel trying to get you to come out and start partying with him. To your surprise, the princess of hell pops her cheerful little face inside your room.
“(Y/N)! I was wondering when you’d be coming…out…there. Oh my gosh! You look so gorgeous EEEEE!” Charlie steps into your room now, her big yellow eyes shining with enthusiasm and hope as she fangirls over your getup. “Oh, thank you. You look stunning yourself.” Charlie watches your eyes fluttering all around the room, unable to focus. “Yeah…I’m coming. Just…feeling anxious I guess.” Taking a deep breath, you finally stand, straightening out your dress and checking your hair in a mirror quickly. “Oh stop it! You look flawless, (Y/N). Let’s go have some fun.” Charlie quickly links arms with you and drags you out to the lobby full of people, lights and music.
Within just a few minutes of joining the party, you find yourself looking around a sea of strangers all on your own. Seems the princess of hell has a line of guests wanting to meet and greet with her. Understandable, but you’re starting to get overwhelmed. You’re desperately looking for a familiar face, needing a buddy to help you feel included and secure. As you swim through sinners and other residents of hell, head turning side to side, you finally spot Lucifer after nearly an hour of wandering around alone.
Sure, His typical white suit is nice, very flattering on him. But, oh boy, did he look fantastic tonight, heavenly even. For this special occasion, Lucifer was dressed in a deep red suit with accents of white and no hat, instead sporting his pretty, slicked back blonde hair. You’re not quick to rush to him, I mean are you trying to look desperate and pathetic? No, just stay calm. But once again, you two share a glance from afar and give each other a small wave of the hand. Lucifer looks…pained. He looks like he might just collapse to his knees and start vomiting. His shift in body language causes your smile to drop, your expression shifting to one of concern as you mouth to him ‘you okay?’.
From Lucifer’s point of view, the room became silent, empty, dimly lit with you there at the center of it all under this glowing golden ray of light. You looked angelic, innocent and sweet, elegant but also nervous and out of place and adorable and fuck it, he can’t wait. He nearly pushes the sinner trying to talk to him aside, rushing to you as his brain became overloaded with ideas of what to say to you.
With each and every stride he takes, your cheeks flush deeper shades of red. With every step, his knees begin to feel more and more like jelly. Finally, he’s joined you in the spotlight, the rest of the party fading away before both of your eyes as you stand just inches apart. Now, it’s all wandering eyes and heavy breathing from both of you. Licking your lips first, you force words out to break this awful silence.
“Wow! Y-you clean up well. You look nice, Luci.” As your voice reaches his ears, his dream-like state abruptly ended. The room floods with loud music, chatty people and bright lights again. He seems to perk up at your compliments, feeling like a dog in heat as his eyes travel up and down your lovely outfit. You watch as his eyes finally leave your waist and come up to meet your own gaze.
“Holy hell. You look absolutely divine.” He scoffs quietly, wondering how an angel like you ended up down here. “Oh, Lucifer.” You swat a hand at him and you can feel your face burning up, sweat starting to form on your upper lip and forehead. “Stop it. You flatter me.”
Lucifer looked as if he might pass out, becoming more and more flustered the more you blush. Although, a pleased smirk graces his face because oh~ you like when he flirts with you, huh? It’s okay, he’s hella into you too.Together, you’re just a ticking time bomb of gushy feelings and sexual tension. He figures if he wants to have any chance of confessing his feelings to you tonight, his best option is to lead you out of the way and put a little distance between you two and the crowd. So, he reaches out and gently takes your hand, pulling you along to the now vacant bar with an extremely forced and up tight grin.
Husk is standing behind the counter, looking not as irritated as you’d thought he would tonight. Luci pulls out a stool for you, gesturing for you to sit before he does because he’s a gentleman and ladies always go first. “Hey. Whatcha want, doll?” Husk ask you first, giving you a wink after you answer. “And for you, sir?” He eyes Lucifer who shakes his head, politely refusing his offer. As Husk begins whipping up your drink, yet another tense silence falls between you two.
“Are you having a good time?” The blonde finally speaks up, side eyeing you. “Eh. I’m not a big party person. I’m not a fan of big crowds either so…not really.” At long last, your unhappy and disappointed attitude brings all of Lucifer’s courage and gall to his mouth. Now’s his chance. “Let’s get out of here then.” He blurts out as Husk slides your drink to you, the bartender giving you an awkward look. “What? But all these folks wanna meet you.” Once you look over to him, a devious smile makes its way to Lucifer’s thin lips as you take your first drink. “And? I’m the king of hell! I do as I please.” He teases and now you’re both smiling brightly, a soft laugh leaving your lips as you push his arm playfully. “I love Charlie but I hate this party. Let me finish my drink first, yeah?”
Lucifer continues to side eye you and also scan over the entire room, checking out the scene as you sip on your drink. You can see his casual glances and the way he quickly diverts his attention as soon as you catch him staring. Now you’re the one feeling some bravery. You quickly and smoothly slip your hand into his, letting your thumb rub back and forth across his knuckles as you try to quickly suck down the rest of your drink.
The grip you have on each other grows stronger, tighter with each second that passes. You notice Lucifer bouncing his leg now, growing impatient and needy. As soon as a slurping noise comes from the straw at the bottom of your glass, Lucifer is trying to pull you up off your seat. He’s not worried about hiding his eagerness from you at this point, not when you’re looking like you do now and getting so blushy and shy at his flirtatious comments. He has to shoot his shot, he has to try. You’re the only person who’s made him feel young and love sick again after Lilith, he can’t afford to let you slip away too. That would crush him more than the weight of the embarrassment and discomfort he is feeling right now.
Lucifer leads you to the library, doubting anyone would be occupying it at the moment and he is correct. Finally, alone together, his hand in yours still, fingers interlocked. His big eyes, full of worry and second thoughts stare deep into yours as he gives himself a moment.
“Oh, my. Where do I even begin?” His other hand comes to yours, holding them both oh so delicately. “You…I’m so….” You nod, smiling to give him some encouragement to continue. “I want you so bad. I want to hold you, I just want to touch you already. I need to kiss you. (Y/N), I love you-“
You’re not sure what came over you but now your hands are exploring his blonde locks, your lips moving feverishly against his. Besides the faint, far away music playing, all you two could hear was each other’s soft gasps and the smacking of wet lips. At first, Lucifer was very engaged in the kiss but he was hesitant to touch you, unsure of where to put his hands. Like hell he wants to rest his claws on your hips or your butt, but he waits for you to give him the okay, his hands balled into fists and held up near his shoulders.
Finally letting him have his way, you guide his hands to your torso before breaking the kiss to whisper, “It’s okay, Luci. You can touch me.” It’s more of a whimper than a whisper but Lucifer isn’t complaining in the slightest. The tone of your voice and the feeling of finally touching your perfectly soft body had his eyes glowing bright red now.
Quickly and without warning, he crashes his lips back into yours sloppily, his long forked tongue gently gliding across your lip, giving the slightest bit of attention to your teeth. He would devour every bit of you right now if you only asked. He wished you would ask right now. He’d even beg for it…You happily let your mouth open more, inviting him in as his arms slowly stretch their way around you until he’s holding you tightly against him. Lucifer squeezes you tightly as he savors your taste for a moment, pulling a soft whine from you before loosening up.
With your eyes closed, you tried to just follow his lead and do your best at impressing and arousing him but he’s sort of doing the same. He hasn’t been with anyone like this in so long, he’s rusty as hell. So, yall are an absolute mess. After about a minute of wild making out and rapidly moving hands, you’ve found yourselves on the floor. The two of you sit up on your knees, holding onto each other as if your lives depend on it. Your hands held his cheeks so tenderly, pulling his face as close to your own as you possibly could.
Lucifer couldn’t help but smile against your mouth, a soft laugh leaving him as he remembers all those nights he dreamt of this exact situation- you looking beautiful and magnificent as always and him having the freedom to let his hands roam your darling figure. He’s been craving you, dreaming of you, wishing for you, praying for you. The laugh that escapes him results in you pulling back to get a look at him. And fuck was he gorgeous- hair a disheveled mess, the purple shadow on his eyelids smudged ever so slightly, his once impressive suit now wrinkled and shifted awkwardly on him, his lips still shiny from your saliva, his breathing loud and heavy and his smile just kept getting bigger, toothier.
“What are you laughing at?” Lucifer rests his forehead against yours, his eyes moving across your breathless, flushed face, just dying to know what’s on your mind now. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you for ages, darling. More than I’ve wanted anything in my entire existence, I’ve wanted to be alone with you like this.” A breathy giggle leaves you, your hands shaking as they travel down from his face to his biceps.
“Oh really? Why don’t you stop telling me and…keep showing me?” You tease, your hands coming to rest on his puffed out chest. Your touch combined with your sweet flirting and breathy voice has all of his wings popping out momentarily. You can’t help but laugh at this, but Lucifer is all business right now. You told him to show you, and oh darling, he’s gonna teach you a whole lesson on how beautiful and ethereal you are to him…and he’s gonna teach you with only his hands and his mouth.
#hazbin#hazbin hotel#hazbin lucifer x reader#lucifer hazbin#lucifer hazbin hotel#lucifer morningstar x reader#hazbin lucifer#hazbin hotel lucifer#lucifer x reader#lucifer morningstar#lucifer x you#lucifer hazbin x reader#hazbin x reader#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel x y/n#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin x you#hazbin x y/n#lucifer x y/n
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HI I LOVED UR HYPERSEXUAL FEM READER HEADCANONS UR WRITING IS SO GOOD
Soo I'm here to request the vees (mainly vox but idc) x hypersexual Fem reader pleasee 😭🙏
if not that's okay and I hope you have a nice day/night!! feel free to delete this lol
-xoxo, Ari
THANK YOU <3333 i love the vees and ive been looking for an excuse to write them so this is perfect
vees with hypersexul reader
going with the same scenario as last time- you've just finished a round and (char) is spent but you're already ready to go again
《— vox —》
■ he seems like a 2 rounds kinda guy so after that second round and yall are just laying there he is SPENT
■ so when you roll over to lay on his chest like "one more time?" with a little smile on your face, as if yall did not just violently fuck it takes him a moment
■ he's spent, so spent. but he really wants to please you
■ he'd get used to it tbh. like he's mentally prepared everytime now but maybe sometimes he can do a round 3
■ he'd resort to toys i think, only the best for his girl <3
■ there's also something he loves about getting to hold you and watch you writhe in pleasure and he just gets to watch
■ he'd always take your preferences into mind with toys too. like if you want smth specific he's got it for you
■ i feel like he might prefer if yall are spent at the same time so the foreplay goes CRAZY
■ like it's not just foreplay it's actual rounds of getting you to cum before the main event yk
■ or sometimes he'll just ask if it'd be okay to be done for the night when he is
■ he doesn't mind either way but he'd definitely want to communicate about it
■ so yeah it might take him a little bit to adjust bit he'd be just fine!
《— valentino —》
■ okay let's be real this man fucks A LOT so he can probably do like. 3 or 4 lengthy rounds before he's tapped out
■ it's making me giggle about it but like okay val is a kinky guy, and like especially if the first time yall do anything it's a little bit rougher he is SHOCKED when you're down for more
■ he's prly into something like overstim where normally you kinda gotta reel from it after so when he's done and it takes you like. a minute or two to be like "do you wanna do it again?" he judt looks down at you so confused
■ he takes a moment, blinking. he'd definitely ask if you're kidding or smth and then finding out you're not he has to take a moment
■ like, he finds it fucking awesome but jesus christ he's finally met hsi match
■ he might use toys on you or go down on you, depends how he's feeling tbh
■ i think he'd lean towards going down on you, idk he just seems like he'd be a bit of a munch.
■ and if you're okay with it when yall fuck in the future he's constantly just seeing how far you can go before you're spent
■ long story short he's totally chill abt it when he gets used to it and thinks it's fucking great
《— velvette —》
■ okay im literally giggling and kicking my feet while typing this
■ she seems like a 2 or 3 round kind of gal
■ idk femxfem sex doesn't really go in rounds ime but like. yk.
■ so after she's spent, she's like so ready to cuddle up and sleep. but then you're caressing her cheek, nuzzling into her neck. "again?" you murmur and she has to take a moment
■ cause like, she's just super surprised you're still ready for another.
■ she'd ask the most questions abt it. like she'd want to just know more so she can support you better
■ she'd go down on you tho! anytime! she definitely has toys but she seems like the type to be more inclined to eat you out
■ if she gets tired of that she'd use a toy on you. but she stays engaged the whole time, super attentive.
■ she's a service switch so like getting to keep you pleased like this makes her feel good and she doesn't mind at all
■ once again, all of them would embrace it and they do not mind at all!
■ if you guys with the poly hc for the vees i think it just makes it so much better for them to know it's really hard to burn you out
■ i loved this request ty <3
taglist: @reaper-of-light-12 @mxxny-lupin @wisteria-songs @t3llas @concentratedconcrete @pansexual-opera-house @dionysusismypatrongod
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#hazbin hotel#hazbin vox#hazbin hotel smut#hazbin hotel x reader#vox x reader#vox smut#valentino#valentino smut#valentino x reader#hazbin valentino#hazbin hotel velvette#velvette smut#velvette x reader#hazbin velvette#hazbin hotel vox#hazbin hotel valentino#the vees
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campfire games
luke castellan x reader - percy jackson and the olympians
[established relationship, fem!daughter of ares reader]
summary: bets are fun, until they aren’t. you’re fine though. luke knows you’re an absolute badass.
warning: pushy male behaviour, suggestive comments, swearing, bets, threats, assault (physical), sexual harassment.
word count: 1.6k
(help i’m writing too many of these but this is the only other good one also feel free to leave requests yall i’m on summer break i have so much time and need something to do 🤩🤩)
(also i am still in love with luke castellan thank you very much I CAN FIX HIM PLSSSS)
(also very sorry to anyone named andrew it was the first name i thought of)
——————————————————
there wasn’t much that your siblings in the ares cabin liked more than winning capture the flag, but watching you tear down another boys’ ego was definitely one of those few things.
campfires were great for many reasons. singing, marshmallows, games—and bets. when chiron and mr d. turned in for the night early, something that rarely happened, the bets would come out. guys would try and talk to you, your siblings would intercept them, find out what they wanted, then place bets among themselves and with other campers as to how long it would take you to tear them down a few notches, or, on occasion, tear them a new one.
clarisse patted your shoulder as two of your brothers talked to another camper. “incoming.”
“details?” you picked at the chipped red polish of your fingernails.
“son of apollo. been here for about two months. andrew. something about wanting to go on a date with you and thinking you’re prettier than the aphrodite girls.” she rolled her eyes. “he tried it on with me before and doesn’t like taking no for an answer, so break his spirit completely. or, you know, his bones.”
you saluted her teasingly. “yes, ma’am. you can count on me, sergeant.”
she patted your shoulder again with a joking grin. “good on you, private. godspeed.”
with that, she left you sitting alone.
well, not really alone.
luke castellan had somehow ended up as your bodyguard in all of these cases. probably something to do with the fact that you’d been dating in secret for the last three months. you weren’t a huge fan of keeping your relationship a secret, but when you’d told clarisse, she told you that her and your other siblings wanted to keep making easy money, and betting on me was the best way to do that. since everyone thought you and luke hated each other anyway, it was easy enough to keep it up, but as your mocking remarks turned to teasing, then to flirting, it was getting more and more difficult. and as he was getting more attractive each day, it was getting harder not to kiss him in front of everyone at camp.
you swivelled in your seat to look up at him. he was sitting three rows back, almost hidden in the darkness, a distinctly put out look on his face.
“you hear that?” you asked with raised eyebrows and a grin on your face. “he thinks i’m prettier than the aphrodite girls. when have you ever said that?”
“i told you you’re prettier than a model one time and you punched me,” he said dryly. “and then i said you look like a goddess while fighting and you punched me again.”
“in my defence, i did hate you at the time.” you shrugged. “got my back?”
“always.” he said seriously.
you grinned and winked at him as you turned around, waiting for the newest idiot to come annoy you.
luke had, once upon a time, been one of those idiots in your mind. he irritated you to no end. he was better than you at sword fighting, so you bested him at everything else. he was more popular than you, so you became one of the most well-liked people at camp. all of your attempts to break him down, however, only made him fall in love with you. now, there you were, wishing you could be sitting beside him instead of waiting for some loser to come annoy you to death.
“y/n, hey.” andrew said, sitting next to you, probably a little too close.
you looked over at him. “andrew, right?”
he nodded, his smile widening as you knew his name.
you sat up straighter and scrutinised him, looking him up and down. “yeah, you look like an andrew.”
you heard luke hide a laugh in his cup behind you.
andrew’s face fell a little, but he regained it quickly. “heard you were one of the best fighters in camp.”
“i am.”
“that’s pretty cool. i mean, i can help you become the best if you want.”
“no, i think i’m okay.”
“come on, i mean, everyone needs to improve. even the self-proclaimed best. bet i’m better at archery than you at least.”
you looked over at his smirk and had to stop yourself from smirking too. this would be too easy. “no. thanks, though. i’m good on my own. one of the best, remember.”
“you could be better. we should have a little challenge. a game.”
“i only play games with people i like.”
“you could like me.” he leaned a little closer. you leaned away slightly. “i bet i could make you like me.”
you had to stop yourself from laughing. “yeah, i don’t think so, buddy.”
‘buddy’ was usually all it took to break a man’s ego. you’d used it on luke many times during unusually flirtatious sparring, back when you still pretended to hate his guts. it didn’t work on him anymore, but it usually worked perfectly on everyone else.
andrew didn’t falter. “i bet i could. give me a chance. let me take on a date. show you a good time.”
“no, thanks,” you said calmly. your siblings were watching intently. clarisse looked ready to step in if you needed it. you wondered what he’d said or done to her to put her on edge. then you realised it wasn’t what he’d done to her. it was what he was about to do to you.
his hand was on your thigh, gripping onto the bare skin by the hem of your shorts.
his hand was on your thigh.
gross.
you looked up at him, eyes sharp. you could hear luke shifting slightly behind you. “what are you doing?” you voice was deathly calm.
“showing you that i can show you a good time, princess.” his voice oozed honey—sickly sweet and sticky, like a fly trap. good thing you hated honey.
“how about i show you how many bones there are in the hand? by breaking every single one.” your voice was equally as saccharine sweet, but your eyes were glaring daggers into his and your jaw was set tight.
he just shifted his hand higher. you tried to push him off but he was strong. annoyingly strong.
he tutted. “come on, sweetheart. you’re gonna make a scene.”
you finally managed to peel his hand off your skin. “i’ll make a scene, alright. get off me and leave me alone. and while you’re at it, leave my sister alone too.”
he raised his hands, a sickening, sleazy smirk on his face. “i was just being nice, princess. you and your sister need to relax. you especially. i can help you relax.”
“oh, i’d love that. you know how i relax?” you tilted your head mockingly, eyes hard. “i punch my enemies in the face.”
he laughed. “you’re cute. now, come on. it’s not like you’ve got anything going for yourself. i mean, you’re hot, sure, but no guys ever gonna look at you when they realise how much of a bitch you are. not like i will.”
you rolled your eyes and stood up. it was time to go and sit by luke. it grated at you, but if he wouldn’t listen to you, maybe he’d listen to another guy.
he didn’t let you leave. his hand gripped your wrist and pulled you back to him as he stood up too. you were chest to chest with him. he towered over you, at least six inches taller. you stepped back, but he pulled you in by your waist and laughed.
“look at how good we look together,” he smirked. “i could show you—“
you punched him in the stomach. he doubled over, finally letting you go, so you kneed his diaphragm. he gasped for air as you stepped back. your friend chris rodriguez whistled appreciatively.
“touch me, or anyone here, ever again and i won’t just hurt you.” you hissed at him. “i’ll beat your ass, then i’ll drag you past the boundary and leave you for the monsters. got it?”
he nodded, still hunched over.
“good boy,” you grit out.
“fucking bitch,” he grunted.
your eyes darkened, but you didn’t do anything. your siblings were right behind him, all ready to drag him away. “good luck walking tomorrow, andrew.”
“good luck finding a guy stupid enough to fuck you,” he scorned.
you laughed. “hey, luke?”
“yeah, babe?” he stepped down beside you, his hand settling on your hip and pulling you gently into his side. andrew faltered at the sight. he probably hadn’t even realised luke was up there.
“are you stupid enough to fuck me?” you asked with raised eyebrows.
he looked like he was trying not to laugh. “oh, i’m way past stupid.”
you didn’t care about any of your sibling’s bets anymore. you didn’t care that people thought you hated each other. you especially didn’t care that everyone was watching. you kissed him. and in front of the whole camp, he kissed you back.
your siblings groaned in disappointment, knowing their betting days were over, but you didn’t care. you smiled the stupidest smile ever as you pulled away, feeling like you’d just had your first kiss all over again.
“what?” he asked quietly.
“nothing.” you shook your head. “just glad we don’t have to hide anymore.”
after months of kissing behind buildings, pretending to fight in public and avoiding each other so people wouldn’t find out, it felt honestly freeing to kiss him in the open.
he kissed you again as your siblings dragged andrew away. “and all it took was an asshole.”
“thanks for not stepping in,” you said. “i had it handled.”
“oh, i know you did. i was more than happy to watch you destroy his ego.”
“good, because if you had stepped in—“
“i’d be going home in an ambulance?” he smiled.
“no, you’d be going home in a hearse.”
“ah, my bad.”
as the campfire kept burning, you sat down with luke. your legs were pressed against his and his arm was around your waist. there wasn’t much that you liked more than tearing boy’s egos down, but being with luke castellan was definitely one of those few things.
#luke castellan#luke castellan x reader#percy jackon and the olympians#percy jackson#pjo x reader#pjo#charlie bushnell#luke castellan x you
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“so what if I sucked his dick. his knuckles were split and bloody from defending my safety and my honor what else was I supposed to do”
With my boys (141+Konig+Keegan)
Price
Price is not a man to bring violence into his domestic life. He just refuses to. He has the gun under the couch and the hand gun in his bedside table, and that’s all the violence at home he needs.
HOWEVER.
The night you both had gone on a nice date and decided to end the night at a pub he was just having a good time. He didn’t want to be bothered. He was having a nice time.
When he watched the guy come up behind the two of you slurring, he was already set on edge. When the man grabbed your ass? There was zero hesitation.
Punch landed square between the poor guys eyes, John took a long sip of his drink and left a $100 on the table to cover any problems and the two drinks you both had, before taking you by the hand and leaving.
The man had a thick skull and Price honestly just ignored the fact that he had clearly probably broken a bone in his hand because the head you were giving him made it all so worth it.
Soap
Surprisingly, it was not a random person he punched.
He and Gaz had gotten into a petty argument. It shouldn’t have started, really.
Apparently Gaz made some snarky comment about Soap’s girl. It was before Gaz and his girlfriend had started dating so he didn’t have a woman to put him in his place over the shitty comment.
Johnny, however, was happy to oblige.
It took both Ghost and Price to pull him off Gaz, who was luck Soap only got a few good hits in. Soap was sent home like a kid from school and John stapled a note to his shirt explaining what had happened.
What Captain John Price didn’t expect, however, was for you to reward this behavior.
Little kitten licks and fluttering kisses up and down his length, tell him how proud you were he defended you before giving him the sloppiest of his life.
He brain melted, Soap had half the mind to punch Gaz for it again next time he saw him just to see if she would reward him again.
Ghost
Oh, he had considered strangling your ex more than once. But he caught him at your doorstep when he had just gotten back from a mission.
He wasn’t Simon yet. He was still Ghost.
So when the fucker was banging on your door, he was happy he had insisted on getting you a better front door lock. He could see you running to your bedroom, probably to get the handgun he kept under the dresser.
He almost wanted to call you and tell you not to bother.
He tore the man away from the door and just went ham. It wasn’t until you returned and looked out the window to see what had happened that Simon held up the man bloody and bruised and passed out.
Simon shoved the dude in whatever car he came in before driving to the middle of nowhere and leaving an only mildly threatening note, before having you pick him up.
When you went from kissing the splits and blood from his knuckles ot undoing his belt, he was so grateful his old square body had a bench seat.
The death grip on the steering wheel was the only thing keeping him sane. Almost pulling over to cum in your mouth but he had pulled into yalls shared driveway before he even realized. He had probably been doing felony speeds.
He took off his mask for the first time since he got home and planted soft kisses on your face. He mumbled something about not needing to reward Ghost for his usual behaviors between pecks.
Konig
Being the big bad colonel’s sweet little wife had its perks. Walking around the base with no problems, getting to spend all day chilling in his lap, never having to be far from him.
The worst time of year was when Konig had to deal with new recruits, who were already older gentlemen but clearly weren’t raised right and who didn’t understand how things worked in his base.
So when one of the recruits was pushing you around, getting too close and touchy, Konig didn’t hesitate.
One big swing, but that wasn’t enough. Konig was going to make an example of him.
Drug him out to the front of the base and gathered all of the recruits and made a scene. He made an example.
Dude got pummeled by Konig.
You honestly didn’t need to give him head, the satisfaction of putting that man in the med bay was enough. But when the idea left your sweet lips he would never refuse.
His bloody knuckles lovingly rubbing your face and massaging your hair as you struggle to fit it in your mouth, giving him big doe eyes? Its his favorite.
Keegan
Also punched a teammate. You had been brought on base for a celebration, everyone was in all their formal uniforms and outfits.
He had stayed sober, unlike most of his teammates.
Most of them didn’t have any women of their own.
Keegan just found out why.
It was a random Sargent from a different group, clearly hadn’t let you get a word out and just kept talking. Too drunk to realize that if you were here you were probably a spouse.
Keegan just gave him a nice smack to the gut, which ended up making the guy projectile vomit in the middle of the festivity room.
Someone definitely over-served by this dude.
But the way you kissed away the littlest bits of blood from Keegan’s had since his dry knuckle had caught on one of the guys pins and tore open. Made his heart melt.
I guess it melted into his dick because he knew EXACTLY what was happening when you pulled him away and down an empty and dark hall.
Oh he loved the way your lips kissed around him, living lipstick in their wake, before leaving a nice colored ring of it around his shaft.
Oh he’d wear it too proudly. Makes jokes about never washing his dick again.
Gaz
You and Gaz were in a booth on a double date with Soap and his girl. Simple date, just chilling. Soap was making jokes about how Kyle totally had a glow up now that he’s met his girl and about how Kyle probably understands why Johnny punched him for the comment a couple months back. (See Soap’s for an explanation)
However, that story just reminded Gaz, and gave him a good idea.
He mumbled something about still needing to get back at Soap for it. Also mumbling about how his nose still isn't right and his jaw still pops
One swift punch, Kyle was back how he was sitting before like it never even happened.
However the head he got in the family bathroom for that punch being hot while Soap and his girl thought Kyle had an emergency bathroom trip while his girl was changing her pad was crazy.
He almost broke the changing table off the wall with how he was gripping it.
Truly life changing.
Almost hit Soap again when they got back to the table.
Masterlist is pinned on my account as always and requests are open.
#cod x reader#call of duty#john price#captain price#konig call of duty#konig x reader#konig#konig cod#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#soap x you#john soap mctavish x reader#soap mactavish#johnny mactavish#john mactavish x you#keegan russ x reader#gaz garrick x reader#kyle gaz x reader#kyle gaz garrick
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mastermind
from aree: The Harbinger Trailer has consumed me yall are getting a brainrot. (I made this when the trailer first came out and have never posted it so here it is).
tw for yandere content
Yandere!Harbingers with a "darling" who is the right hand of the Tsaritsa herself. Not a Harbinger, but nonetheless important because they're the main strategist of the Fatui. I can just imagine the pain for the Harbingers because although darling is within arms reach, they're not allowed to make a move lest they anger their ruler.
Childe who first sees you akin to a younger sibling amongst the Fatui - you're no underling, on par with a Harbinger in importance if not more, protected almost as much as the Archon Herself - it would be hard not to be protective of you. And yet as you fix his wounds after another fight he started, telling him off in place of Her Majesty, giving him tips on how he could've fought better in whispers in between, his growing need for your attention consumes him. When he kisses your cheek (as thanks, he says) in front of the other Harbingers he's already looking forward to you treating the injuries they're sure to beat into him.
Scaramouche who grins when the Harbingers bristle as you walk side by side in the halls of Zapolyarny Palace - he says you should consider it an honor to walk with him, and it inflates his ego when you reply with a small nod and a smaller smile. Behind the others' backs, he follows you like a lost child, always walking behind you, gripping on to the back of your clothes like you might slip away if he's not careful. He's obsessed with the way you look at him and ask him questions about his creation. He fails to see that the adoration you hold for him is as hollow as he is.
Signora wonders if you know when she is at her lowest, that would certainly explain things, wouldn't it? She thinks she has lost her mind when she sees glimpses of her lost love when turning corners too quickly, haunting her when she lets her guard down but then you're in front of her, greeting her with a soft smile that feels all too familiar and she realizes she has gone mad in other ways (she welcomes that newfound madness like the lover that it is, finally coming home).
Pantalone who believes that one of life's greatest pleasures is to own what others cannot - to collect the rare, the exquisite and the hard to obtain - and to have you, a person of great mind and ranking, be dangled right infront of him on a piece of gold thread held by the Tsaritsa, who was he to resist the urge to make you his? (after all, he deserves only the best) The longer he does not have you, the more your worth rises in his eyes.
Dottore who initially wants to pick apart your brain (quite literally) but his interest shifts and doubles when he reaches an epiphany that what he truly lacked from the Akademiya was someone who shared his intellect, a genius to match his own. Maybe you don't share his affinity for biology, but he loves the way your conversations keeps him on his toes (if you weren't a being close to perfection for him before, then you certainly are now.)
Arlecchino who watches as you care for the children in the orphanage, checking in on them even long after they've joined the ranks of the Fatui and compares it to the frigid ways of the other Harbingers. For the first time since being a part of this cold nation, she is envious of the warmth you give (why must you have so much love to share?) She thinks that should the day come she turns her back on this frigid country, she would surely take your hearth with her.
Marionette who finds herself being drawn to the way you move around a room and hold yourself up in front of people, marveling at the intricacies of each part of your body and the way they make up the being that is you (you could trip and fall and she'd still sigh in awe). Her fascination turns you from muse to future subject. Surely such a specimen must be preserved, right? Not to mention, there would be no greater honor than to turn the Tsaritsa's best into a perfect unchanging doll.
Damselette who usually goes quiet when you're in the same room as her, always eager to hear you talk, almost hissing when a Harbinger tries to speak over you. She finds your voice is the one in her head who speaks reason to her when she gets a bit out of control (Does she listen? No, but your voice is always ever so lovely). Wouldn't it be so nice if you're the lone voice she hears always, the same way you're already always in her thoughts?
Capitano who is thankful his mask covers the fond look he gets when you turn to him - not with fear like the lower ranking Fatui or haughty like the Harbingers - but as an equal, leveling him with a gaze that leaves him fooling himself that it means something more. He's less thankful for his mask when someone calls your attention away from him and he can't control the glare he sends their way (maybe if they saw the way he looked at them, they'd finally be put in their place).
Pulcinella is quick to put you in a pedestal - you are someone to be respected and someone to be kept at a distance. And yet as he watches the Harbingers fall deeper and deeper into obsession, he takes it upon himself to protect the Tsaritsa's favorite and the Fatui's brain from whatever his co workers are plotting. As he spends more time with you (making sure the others do not occupy all of your time), the pedestal he keeps you on crumbles until all he sees is another child to keep under his wing. He fails to see he has only fallen into a different hole as the rest.
Strategist!Darling who may pretend to be oblivious to the Harbingers' feelings but is actually letting it all happen to make sure they all stay under the Tsaritsa's rule one way to another.
Does Pierro know what you're doing? Maybe. It's not like he is blind to how the Harbingers act around you, subtle as they try to be. If you spend enough time with him, you might be able to tell that he enjoys watching you play the part of a fool, dancing around the others and making them dance for you, too. He might even step in once he thinks the other Harbingers are stepping out of line, but it all depends on what he gets out of sticking into your business.
I also like the dynamic where although the Harbingers cannot make a move to claim what is "their's", darling is just as trapped. Although they always sometimes want to leave, they know as much as anyone that the Tsaritsa is the only thing standing between them and the others. The moment they try to leave the Tsaritsa's side or they lose her favor, it's all fair game for the Harbingers.
Everyone is stuck in a stalemate until someone makes a misstep.
✨ Masterlist ✨
Taglist: 💛@anime-allover 💛@faeriessky 💛 @prksolon 💛 @dai-tsukki-desu 💛 @wonpielle
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine and belong to their respective creators. Their portrayal is merely my own interpretation of them and may not be accurate to their intended characterization. I stake no claim to the original works, only to the ideas and plot of the fictitious stories I’ve written them into.
#genshin impact x reader#yandere genshin impact#childe x reader#scaramouche x reader#signora x reader#marionette x reader#capitano x reader#pierro x reader#pantalone x reader#dottore x reader#pulcinella and reader#arlecchino x reader#harbingers x reader#genshin impact harbingers x reader#yandere childe#yandere scaramouche#yandere signora#columbina x reader#yandere marionette#yandere capitano#yandere pierro#yandere pantalone#yandere dottore#yandere arlecchino#yandere harbingers#damselette x reader#yandere damselette
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alr hear me out, hear me out
what about another addition of punishment but this time, ony punishing y/n because she came home late and didn’t tell him where she was at?💁🏾♀️💁🏾♀️💁🏾♀️💁🏾♀️
i think ab this a lottttt
it’s been awhile since you’ve gotten to be outside like this. shaking ass on top of sasha connie’s car at the gas station while high out of your mind. and the best part about it was that you didn’t have to be looking over your shoulder all night because you actually were allowed to be here.
“if you be safe and be home by one, we straight mama” ony said as he led you out of the house with a slap on the ass. smirking as he watched you practically sprint to sasha’s car.
it was only nine when you left the house which meant y’all had plenty of time to take a couple shots, go see a movie, and hotbox the fuck out of that car.
“we still got enough left for another spliff yall!” you yelled as sasha, mikasa, and emoni began to cheer in the driver and backseats. “roll that muthafucka uppp!” sasha yelled. y’all were having too much fun, but nothing lasts forever. when you looked into the glove compartment for papers you were only shown an unloaded glock. “sash you got more papers on you?” everyone’s heads whipped towards you. mikasa reached towards the front and turned the music all the way down so she could hear you better. “what you mean?”
“i meaannn there’s no more in here” each of you whined in unison as sasha began to start the car up again. “connie must’ve been using em, but the gas station only down the block yall. i got us!!!” in an instant the spirits were brought back up again. loud screams and the bass to your music was all that could be heard from y’all as sasha continued the party from the parking lot to the gas station.
big dick🫶🏽
‘hope you being safe mama’
‘daddy miss you’
read at 11:30 pm
you began typing to answer your man, but your attention was snatched by the sound of a good song. good form by nicki minaj began to play all throughout the car, making you drop your phone on your seat as you opened your door and started dancing your life away. ass going in circles as emoni turned the song up from the backseat and came out to dance too.
the four of y’all were at that gas station for thirty minutes, but in sober time it was two hours. out of the entire group, you were probably the littest. giggling every five minutes and screaming to the top of your lungs when a good song, which was damn near every song that played, came on. before you knew it, y’all were in a nice secluded area passing another blunt around. telling each other what y’all been up to.
“then the bitch gon say ‘yea put her on a leash’ likeee. i would really wash you hoe don’t even play wit me like that” the group giggled as you continued to tell them a story from your past weeks. “did you fuck her up? please tell me you fucked her uppp” mikasa said as she leaned over the side of your seat. you rolled your eyes as you thought back to that night. “nah. ony told her to watch her mouth and took me to the bathroom t’go pee”
“speaking of ony. i’m surprised he even let you out the houseeee” emoni squealed as she lightly tapped your shoulder to pass you the blunt. you happily took it before putting it to your mouth, taking a big hit from it before releasing the whole smoke into the atmosphere of the car. “he said as long as m’safe and home by one he’d let me rock” confusion clouded your mind as you watched the three of your friends gasp. giving each other nervous looks as they contemplated whether or not to tell you the bad news.
“what?” you asked with a smirk, not thinking anything of their actions. chalking it up to them having some tea to spill. sasha was the first to speak. “honey where’s your phone?” you looked around for the device, eventually finding it in between the center console and your seat. “right here” you said, lifting the screan towards them so they can see. even louder gasps could he heard as they looked at the many notifications you had. “bitch that nigga gon kill you” emoni blurted out, earning her pissed off looks from both mikasa and sasha as you turned the phone towards your face.
29 missed calls from: big dick🫶🏽
50 messages from: big dick🫶🏽
you looked at the screen in confusion “why would he…” your heart dropped to your ass at the realization. this whole time y’all was having fun and smoking each other out this man has been trying to contact you because it been 1 am and you still weren’t home. it was now damn near four in the morning.
“oh fuck”
“yea your ass is grass. lemme get you home” sasha mumbled as she put the car in drive.
the ride home was dead silent. not a damn thing said as sasha slowly drove you back to your house. when she pulled up in your driveway she softly touched your arm. “m’so sorry suge. ian know you needed to be ho-”
“nah it’s my fault. i should’ve said sum” you closed the door with a sigh before turning around and shamefully walking towards the front. you figured there was no reason to try to sneak through the back since ony was most definitely waiting for you inside. as you walked inside you were instantly met with the sound of 90s r&b quietly playing throughout the house.
‘weird’ you thought as you walked deeper and deeper inside. eventually seeing ony’s shirtless figure facing away from you at the kitchen island. the closer you got to him the more you could see what he was doing. his big hands wrapped around a small knife as he cut up some watermelon pieces. you expected him to speak to you, but he didn’t. he just walked away and washed the knife, putting it away before turning around and leaning on the counter.
he stared at you. brown eyes looking into yours as he leaned back with his arms crossed over his chest. “drink the water and eat that.” was all he said as he looked at you expectedly, waiting for you to listen to his command. you opened the water first, taking a couple sips before putting it down and taking a bite of watermelon. you would be lying if you said it wasn’t good. and since you were still high it was one of the best things in the world. loud slurping sounds could be heard as you quickly devoured the fruit.
ony still watched you, arms still crossed as he waited for you to finish. as your feasting came to an end he put your bowl in the sink, waiting for you to finish your water so he could put it in the recycling bin as well. when it was all said and done he brought you to your bedroom where your pajamas were already waiting for you on the bed. “gon head and take that off. you smell like mad weed”
as you changed into the clothes you failed to notice the vibrator and fuzzy cuffs near his pillow, but ony made sure to get you well acquainted with the items very soon. you slowly put on the t-shirt he gave you, removing your under where and bra before putting it on since you thought you’d be sleeping real comfortably tonight. “thank you d-” ony wasted no time. as soon as he seen you finish changed he snatched your ear towards his mouth by the back of your neck.
“you ain’t think it was gon be that easy, did you?” arousal began to make its way to your core almost instantly. his deep voice and cologne clouding your senses as you felt his hard chest on your back. “why you always gotta make shit difficult f’me, huh? why can’t you just listen mama?” you were too out of it to even reply, eyes wandering around the room as you tried your hardest not to cry. “you know what i gotta do t’you right?” you slowly nodded your head before ony let you go, watching you instantly crawl onto the bed and get into position.
as you laid with your ass in the air, ony made quick work of getting the cuffs around your wrists. laying the vibrator next to you for later. “i told you t’be home by 1, but you wasn’t gone by one, wasn’t you baby? nahhh…..you came in that door at 4:30.” as he spoke, you felt his heavy hands caress and squeeze your ass. constantly letting his fingers thirst around your pussy to keep you on edge. “m’sorry da-” a hard slap to your ass shut you up immediately. making quiet whimpers be released into the air as your tears filled down your cheeks.
“then i told you t’be safe, and you decided to go to a gas station in the middle of the night and shake your ass out the car” another two slaps were brought to your ass, making ony smile as he caught sight of your arousal beginning to give you pussy a pretty shine. “m’sorry daddy. i w-wont do it again” you whined, but of course he ignored you. turning the vibrator on and rubbing it all over your thighs and ass to keep you on edge.
“tell daddy your rules and colors ma” he brushed the vibrator lightly on your clit, making you twitch before moving it to your thigh. you whined, poking your ass out more as a silent beg for the contact, earning you another hard slap on your ass. “y’hear me talking t’you?”
“fuckkk no running, no to-touching, nd no cummin without daddy’s permission. m’colors are green, yellow, n’red”
ony nodded his head at your obedience, sliding the vibrator to your clit before dipping into you with two fingers from his other hand.
“keep your safeword in mind too ma. s’gon be a long night”
ima finish this in a part 2💋
#aot x black reader#onyankopon x black reader#onyankopon x reader#aot onyankopon#onyankopon x black!reader#aot smut#onyankopon smut#aot onyankopon x black reader#onyankopon x black y/n#aot onyankopon x black!reader#aot onyankopon x black y/n#aot onyankopon smut
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naturally [4b]
you fit into their little family perfectly - naturally.
-> in which yuji wants his mom (a two part snippet)
a/n: yall i just finished omori for the first time and i am an emotional wreck omg
also imma try to get a little christmas snippet out for this series (hopefully lol no promises)!
pairing: nanami kento x f!reader, itadori yuji x f!reader (platonic)
“So, what did you want to do tonight, Yuji-kun?”
There’s a brief pause, no more than a second, then; “watch a movie.”
It causes a small laugh to bubble out of your throat. “Watch a movie? That’s all?” His brows furrow at your words, and kneeling to reach his height properly, you offer a smile. “We have the whole apartment to ourselves. We can do anything. Are you sure you only want to watch a movie?”
Yuji pouts, and instantly the smile fades from your lips in concern. “Yuji-kun?”
His little hands twist in front of him, eyes falling to his feet as his cheeks warm, obviously embarrassed. You’re just not sure at what.
Reaching forward, you lightly brush back his pink, unruly hair, pulling it out of his face so you can see him better. Your warm touch is enough to pull his eyes on you, head tilting back up, the apples of his cheeks still a cute, rosy red, as he hesitates.
“You can tell me, Yuji-kun. It’s okay.”
His lips part, and he struggles for a moment to get the words out. The whole situation is so unlike Yuji that you’re not sure what to say or act–the boy was usually boisterous and loud and confident in every little thing that he said or did. He was the type of kid that didn’t often let others bring him down and you’re not quite sure you’ve ever seen him act so shy before.
“Watching… watching movies with you is my favourite thing.”
Oh.
Oh.
The smile that curls onto your lips is hard to deny, and you feel yourself burst with warmth as his words register in your mind.
Yuji wasn’t a particularly hard kid to get along with. Despite only being five, he was easy to talk to and was nonchalant in a way that he’d usually just go with the flow without a fuss. Like every kid, he had his moments but ninety-nine percent of the time, he was easy-going in a way that made taking care of a kid you had realistically no idea how to take care of quite easy.
Yuji was all that but you still struggled to wonder what more you could do.
You didn’t want it to just be easy because it was–you wanted to connect with him in some sort of way. A way that, perhaps, a mother naturally does when she has a child. But Yuji wasn’t your child and you’d never had one, so you didn’t have that natural instinct or that natural connection. You had to earn it, and you didn’t mind that at all but you weren’t sure how.
But hearing him say that?
Saying that he had something he loved doing with you? Only you… well it was enough to make you cry.
Moving your hand to cup Yuji’s cheek, you smile brightly at the point, forcing the tears (tears of happiness) that threaten to fall back–you didn’t want to worry the poor boy after all–and nod. “Okay, Yuji-kun,” you hum, “let’s watch a movie.”
And that’s what you do.
You let him pick the first one without a fuss, a light-hearted childrens movie of course, simply happy to just be there. And as you both settle into the couch for the first movie, a plate of Yuji’s favourite food (rice with some noodles) on a tray in front of you both, the two of you sit in comfortable silence, offering some light commentary on the movie to which he does the same. When the first movie is over, you take a brief pause to clean up the dishes and tidy up and of course, Yuji helps you.
Then, as you settle down for the second movie, the movement of Yuji sinking into your side is done without words. He’s silent as he shuffles over to you on the couch, moving your arm so he can rest his head on your shoulder. You watch him with parted lips and wide eyes, until that same beaming smile from before curls onto your lips and you let yourself ease, wrapping your arm around him in return.
You both stay like that for the entire movie.
Half way through the third one, you chance a glance at the clock, seeing how late it is. Nanami said he didn’t mind keeping Yuji up later for the evening if you wanted, given he didn’t have daycare the next day and you’d promised Yuji he could stay up as late as wanted. But Nanami should be home soon and a quick glance down at Yuji tells you he’s getting sleepy even if he tries to deny it.
His head keeps drooping, falling against your side before he quickly picks it up and his eyes look heavy, threatening to fall shut any moment.
With a quiet hum, you pull Yuji’s attention on you; “do you wanna go to bed?”
His eyes fall on you, panicked; “no, wanna finish the movie.”
And despite your better judgement, you nod, agreeing. But, of course, twenty minutes later, he’s fallen asleep against you and you let out a light laugh as you pause the movie once more. You should tuck him into bed if you don’t want him to wake up with a kink in his neck the next morning, so, shifting with effort not to disrupt the small boy, you scoop him into your arms, letting his head rest against your shoulder. He stays asleep because Yuji’s always been a heavy sleeper, and so you make the short walk over to his bedroom, keeping the lights off in favour of not startling him in any way.
You’re gentle as you set him on the bed, pulling the sheets back and then tucking them securely over his small body. You pull his blanket all the way to his chin, tucking the blanket around him to make sure he doesn’t get cold throughout the night.
Once you’re satisfied, you move to leave, before pausing. Your eyes fall on him once more, taking in the peaceful expression on his face as he sleeps away, and think back to the many times you’ve watched Nanami tuck him into bed at night.
Your body moves on its own, hating the thought of Yuji going to bed thinking he isn’t loved, letting your lips press against his forehead gently as you hum out a soft; “goodnight, Yuji…”
And then, as you’re pulling away, you hear, just faintly, Yuji let out a breathless whisper of; “goodnight, mum…”
Your eyes widen, body freezing. Your gaze flickers to him, thinking he must’ve said the words half asleep, probably thinking it was his actual mother tucking him to bed, but as your eyes meet his, you’re surprised to see his eyes, albeit still tired, staring back at you with a small smile on his face.
He reaches out, grabbing your hand with his small one before pushing himself up, enough so that he can press a kiss against your forehead. “I love you,” he mumbles, voice muffled with sleep, before he lets himself fall back, still smiling as his eyes fall shut once more, his chest rising and falling with even breaths.
You stay there, stunned, for a moment more before the distinctive sound of the front door opening catches your attention, snapping you out of your stupor. You chance a quick glance Yuji’s way again, making sure he’s settled comfortably in bed and still asleep, before you’re pushing yourself up completely, slipping out of his room and letting the door shut behind you quietly.
It’s all a blur as you quickly rush to the front kitchen, where Nanami now is, shoes and jacket off, obviously having been searching for you or Yuji. His eyes fall on you with a blink as you come bounding towards him, the gentle greeting on the tip of his tongue pausing when he sees the tears in your eyes.
Instantly, concern floods his gaze.
“Love?” He calls out, panicked, rushing towards you as he glances around, as if in search for what’s wrong, hands falling on your waist as he brushes back your hair. “What happened? Are you okay? Is Yuji–”
But then you’re smiling–a bright, beaming smile that fills your entire face and leaves Nanami breathless.
“Y/N?”
You grasp his hands in your own, tightly; “he called me mom!”
Nanami’s lips part, before his eyes widen, your words processing in his mind. “Yuji?”
You nod, eagerly. “I was tucking him into bed and I know you usually kiss his forehead goodnight, so I did the same not wanting him to feel unloved going to bed. And as I was pulling away, he whispered ‘goodnight, mom’ in return. At first I thought he might’ve been half asleep, not thinking, but then his eyes were open and he leaned forward and pressed a kiss against my own forehead,” you touch the stop with your hands, dazed. “And told me he loved me.”
You realize you’re rambling, your words tampering off towards the end as you turn to meet Nanami’s eyes.
He’s smiling in that soft, gentle way you love, moving to cup your cheeks.
“That’s wonderful, love,” he whispers, “I'm so happy for you.”
#jjk#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#nanami kento#nanami kento x reader#nanami x reader#nanami fluff#itadori yuuji#itadori yuuji x reader
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for now, let’s get away ~c. sturniolo x reader
drummer!chris x reader au
this took me i’m not kidding three weeks to finish and i still hate the end omfg. i hope yall like it. this was the chris fic i was teasing for fucking ever. this shit is 7.7k words.
this is the second to last thing i have to post before i leave 🥹. all that’s left is the finale to number neighbors (ik i said two more parts but i changed my mind cause the part 15 was pretty much perfect and there’s nothing more for me to do but end it on a funny silly note so). i love u all so much pls tell me what u thinks bout this i worked so fucking hard LOL. okay bye MWAH ENJOYYYYY
there’s lights flashing, smoke billowing through the air and scattered screams floating through the semi-crowded bar. y/n sits with her group of three, nursing a too-strong cocktail, watching the band on stage with interested eyes.
her eyes keep wandering back to the drummer, a long haired, brunette that’s hammering down on his instrument like there’s no tomorrow. she’s already deduced that they’ve got to be siblings, him and the lead, because honestly she thought she was seeing double from the moment her and her friends walked in.
they’re performing a cover of hole in the earth, by deftones, a song that she adores, which is honestly making her shift in her seat slightly. the drummer wears a long sleeved, black and white shirt, red stars on the shoulders. his hair is falling down into his face, which he pushes back in between his parts, causing the light to reflect off of a silver bracelet hanging off his wrist.
y/n’s been staring at him shamelessly the entire performance. he’s hot and talented and she’s a little bit tipsy so her art of subtlety is very much off. not that she cares.
he’d been looking at her too, periodically through the show. she’d caught his eyes more than once, opting for a small smirk and look away, usually to his carbon copy on the mic. it makes him shake his head with a smile every time.
her attention is shifted from the stage when her best friend nudges her. “you and the drummer have been eye fucking since the moment they got up there.” there’s teasing to her tone and y/n just shrugs.
“well, look at him,” she claps when they announce that they’re done for the night and start to thank the crowd. “how could i not?”
her other friend, who’s standing in front of her nods with a dreamy sigh, “you’re so real for that. i think i’ve been staring open mouthed at the singer for like half an hour.”
y/n laughs, looking back at the stage. she’s disappointed to see the band gone, their empty set up the only thing left in their wake. she picks up her drink, finishing it, before calling the bartender over to get another one.
before she can say anything though, a voice cuts through. “whatever she wants, make it two.”
y/n looks up, surprise filling her face. mr drummer man was right beside her, damp hair and wide smile blinding her. she raised an eyebrow before giving her order, then turning in her stool to face him.
“do you typically buy drinks for every girl that’s at your shows?”
he laughs, short and breathy. “only if they look like you do.” he says, leaning forward so she can hear him better. “and if they spend my entire set staring me down with eyes as pretty as yours.”
warmth spreads through her cheeks, but she doesn’t falter. “nice one.” she takes a sip as the drinks are placed in front of them. “wonder how many times you’ve used that one.”
drummer boy leans his elbow on the bar, slotting his body in the space between her and the person in the next seat. “maybe like, six times. but it doesn’t make it less true.”
she laughs, throwing her head back just the tiniest bit. “you’re unbelievable.”
“i’ve been told once or twice.” he runs a hand through his hair. “you have no idea.”
y/n feels loopy, between the alcohol in her veins and the warmth in her stomach from his attention, she thinks she might be in for a little bit of trouble here.
“i’m just kidding though. i noticed you pretty much the second i got on stage.” his eyes are so blue it’s freaking her out. in a good way, though. “knew i had to look for you afterwards.”
y/n raises her eyebrow. “oh, you had a plan?”
“of course i did. no way was i letting you walk out of here without talking to you.”
she knows it’s a line, knows his type. the smooth talking, shit-eating grin that could make any girl fall to their knees. part of her wants to ignore him, just for the sake of it. but a much bigger, much more attracted to him, so badly it’s putting crazy thoughts in her head, part of her is incredibly down for the chase.
y/n turns to look at her friends, who are now talking to the rest of the band. she chuckles, seeing her best friend and the lead singer basically pressed up against each other talking, her looking up at him with what y/n knows are the eyes. her other close friend is talking to who she thinks is the guitarist and a new face, who coincidentally looks exactly the other two.
when she turns back to the boy in front of her, she picks up her drink, looking him dead in the eyes. she’s not entirely doing it on purpose, wrapping her glossed lips around the straw slowly, before putting her glass back down on the bar, but she can tell that it takes a toll on him.
drummer boy blows at a breath, moving his eyes from her lips back up to her eyes. “can i know your name now? or do i have to beg?”
he’s slightly closer to her now. she can smell his cologne in the space between them, and now can see the silver dog tag that hangs from his neck. she notices the silver hoop in his right nostril that she didn’t see before. it makes a chill go down her spine.
“hm,” she basically purrs. “you begging me for something has a nice ring to it.”
the smirk in the corner of his mouth widens. “i’ll beg you for anything you want, sweetheart.”
she decides to stop torturing him. “y/n.” she offers him her hand.
he looks down, bigger one enveloping hers immediately. his hand is warm and slightly rough. it makes her shift again. “chris.”
chris, she thinks. of course his name is chris.
“so who’s in the band with you? cause it’s kind of freaking me out how much you look alike.”
he lets her hand go, not without lingering slightly. “my brother matt,” he looks up and laughs. “who is five seconds away from making out with your friend right now, is the lead. nick’s the photographer and does the behind the scenes shit. jack is just our friend.”
she nods, “triplets.”
“yeah, unfortunately.” his eyes are fond. “i’m the best looking one by far though.”
y/n rolls her eyes, ready to humble him through a lie, when all of sudden there’s a shout behind them.
“she said get lost, you fucking loser.” nick says, standing in front of the friend of y/n’s that isn’t attached to matt.
the presumably drunk asshole sneers at him, “i’m sure she can speak for herself, dickhead.”
“i did speak for myself, dumbass.” her friend says, rolling her eyes. “i’m not interested, not even in the slightest. walk away.”
“you’re not all that anyway, bitch.”
matt speaks next, “watch your fucking mouth, bro.”
chris can tell it’s getting out of hand when the guy keeps taking steps forward, matt’s hand on nick’s arm to stop what feels inevitable. y/n’s friend scoffs. “i was ten seconds ago when you thought, for some odd reason, that you could ever approach me.”
the guy doesn’t seem to like that answer or the various insults the group of them keep giving him, so he shoves past nick and gets right in her face.
y/n takes less than three seconds to throw her drink and shove him backward, causing him to stumble into another drunk asshole, which doesn’t end well.
there’s liquor flying everywhere, fists being thrown and all out chaos in the bar, causing security to come bustling through the crowd. people have started to fight just for the hell of it, and now they’ve got to go.
chris grabs y/n’s hand, tugging her towards the back exit. “we’ve got to go, now.” despite the chaos, he’s grinning, and she kinda wants to kiss him.
her eyes find her best friends, shoving through people recklessly. when she gets to them, they’re laughing incredulously at the chaos they’ve all inadvertently caused.
“i think i’m gonna go with chris,” y/n says over the madness.
“you don’t even know him!” her friend replies, eyebrows sky high.
“yeah,” she says, looking back to chris who is urging her forward. “but i think i want to.”
her other friend grins ear to ear, looking back at his brothers. “go. text us wherever you end up. we’re going with them.”
they shout love you’s and go in opposite directions, her friends with the band and her with chris.
he takes her hand as security gets into the main crowd, pulling her through expertly. once they get to the back door they’re running, fast and hard, feet slapping against the pavement.
she can hear their laughter roaring in her ears, can feel both their pulses in her fingertips where her and chris’ hands connect. it’s crazy, her following him blindly.
she couldn’t even pretend to be bothered by it.
***
“i can’t believe i actually just ran from a bar brawl with you,” y/n says, texting her friends to make sure they ended up okay. they told her that they were at a diner right now with the rest of the band, safe and sound.
chris is also texting, his brothers she assumes, before he slides his phone back into his pocket. “i can’t believe you started the bar brawl.”
his face and tone is teasing. she rolls her eyes, nudging his shoulder as they walk side by side down the city streets. “i did not start it. that drunk dick that couldn’t take no for an answer did.”
chris’ hands are in his pockets as he leads her down the road. she thinks, hopes he knows where he’s going. “i know. it’s just funny watching your face twist up.”
they don’t say anything as they continue their path. they’re in what looks like another bar strip, except it’s pretty much deserted. there’s walls with beautiful graffiti next to them, parking meters decorating the sides of the sidewalk. the street lights are on and bright, and occasionally a car will speed down the one way road like a bat out of hell.
y/n pulls her jacket, which she managed to grab off her bar stool before they escaped, around her tighter. december in new jersey was unforgiving, and the short skirt and fur lined tights she had on weren’t doing enough to protect her from the cold. she’s just glad she opted for vans tonight.
she looks over to the man next to her, hands shoved in his front pockets and hair falling into his eyes. chris’ nose and cheeks are dusted pink from the cold air, and she wants to brush it out of his face. so she does.
she stops him in the middle of the sidewalk, grabbing his arm. he looks at her quizzically, breathing soft. she reaches up and rakes a hand through the soft, brown locks, positioning it so she could continue to see his eyes. he lips turn upwards.
“where are we going?” she says, her arm falling back to her side.
he nods his head towards a car parked a little bit away. “my car.”
she cocks her head. “why the hell are you parked this far from where you’re performing?”
“we were here earlier,” chris says, walking ahead. she follows. “after we set up at the Phoenix, we came here to get some drinks. too much time to kill led to a round of drunk pool. we ubered to the show.”
she doesn’t know him very well, but she knows it makes sense. “very professional.”
chris unlocks his car, leaning over and opening the passenger door. he leans his forearm on the roof of the car, grinning. “that’s rock and roll baby.”
she scoffs a laugh. “never say that, ever again.”
he laughs too. “yeah, alright.”
once they’re settled in the car, chris hands her the aux. she looks at him, surprised. “you want me to play music?”
he nods. “it’s a good character tester. show me what you got.”
she thinks there’s something more underneath the words. she takes the challenge. “you’re on.”
chris pulls off into the night just as pyramids starts.
***
something y/n had never understood was magnets. sure, they had a specific and concrete explanation, scientifically proven, but it just never really settled in her brain right. the concept of push and pull and attraction to metal was a mystery to her.
she kind of feels like a a stray paper clip right now, though. as chris glides through the streets of jersey she’s encapsulated with the way the fleeting lights ghost over his face, outlining his jaw. he’s got one hand on the wheel and one on the middle console, which makes her wish he’d reach a little further to the flesh of her thigh.
when he parks in the back of a big building that she knows far too well, she’s mystified. “why the hell are we at my childhood rec center right now?”
chris leans forward, looking out the windshield. he shrugs. “i didn’t even know that’s where we were. i was just driving to be honest.”
y/n notices the pull towards him again. cause what a coincidence right?
she unfastens her seatbelt and turns her body towards him, leaning her back against her door. “so what made you wanna be a drummer?”
the question seems to come out of nowhere, to chris at least, but he welcomes it. he copies her movements, facing her as well. his seat is pulled all the way back. “just always loved music. so has matt. my brothers are my best friends, so getting a chance to create music with them seemed like a life i’d always wanna live.”
she loves that answer. makes her heartbeat a little faster. “big softie.”
chris smiles wide, teeth poking out. “kind of.” he fiddles with the steering wheel cover. y/n has noticed that he’s always moving in some capacity. fingers always twitching or drumming on a surface, hands in his hair, cracking his neck— he can never sit still. “what’s your thing?”
she thinks. “don’t know if i have one.”
he tuts. “everyone has a thing.”
her eyes laser focus on his necklace. she’s searching her brain for the best thing to say, but keeps coming up short. there were things she loved, books, movies, art— but there was nothing that really made her feel like she could do it forever. it made her feel boring in comparison.
“i don’t know, really.”
chris looks at her like he’s trying to decode a riddle. she kind of shrinks under the gaze. “i think you’re holding back.” she rolls her eyes, because she doesn’t know what else to do. “but even if that’s true, you’ve got time. nobody has everything figured out.”
the words are comforting, but a little too heavy for the night. what she’s going to do with her life is so not the conversation she wants to be having with the hot drummer she ran away from a bar fight with.
“thank you so much, dr. chris.” he laughs, shaking his head. y/n has a sudden stroke of recklessness genius. she smiles like a cheshire cat, slow growing and completely mesmerizing to the boy across from her.
“what’s with the evil smile? you’re freaking me out.” except he’s lying. he’s quite literally hanging on to her every word.
“let’s go.” she’s climbing over the middle console now, stopping briefly on his lap before reaching for his door. why she just didn’t get out on her side, she doesn’t know. she does. the inexplicable need to be close to him compels her to do it. stupid fucking magnet theory.
before she can grasp it though, chris’s hands plant themselves firmly on her hips. she looks down at him, raising an eyebrow. he just grins up at her, looking peacefully.
“just give me a minute. this is pretty much the view i was imagining the entire show while looking at you.” y/n feels herself pulse at the sentence. “it’s even better than i could’ve ever pictured it.”
“dirty dog,” she teases, but settles down anyway.
“oh come on,” he replies. his hands are wandering the tiniest bit, brushing the curve of her spine. “you’re telling me all your thoughts of me have been perfectly respectable?”
she scoffs in amusement. “you need to be humbled, like immediately. maybe the fame’s going to your head.” she trails her eyes down his chest where their bodies connect. “and there’s no telling which one.”
chris chuckles. “not my style, sugar.”
“oh?” y/n leans down, head above him and hair acting as a curtain around them. “am i your first groupie?”
the smirk that slides on to his face is sweltering. his fingers are rubbing circles into the skin of her back and she forces herself not to shiver at the feeling.
“is that what’s going on here? i thought we were just hanging out.” there’s a sly smile on his mouth, eyes implying less than pure things. he leans up on his elbows, causing his hands to disappear. she misses the touch as soon as it’s gone. there’s barely an inch apart. “looks like i’m not the only one who had a plan. hm?”
she shoves his shoulder, causing him to lay back flat with a laugh. “you’ve bumped your head on one too many tour buses.”
y/n opens the car door, reaching down and grabbing his hand. chris lets her pull him up. he’s still laughing. “what are we doing?”
“being quiet,” she says, leading them to the back door she’d seen almost every night back in her teenage years. “not a word.” she warns.
she’d left her purse in the car, but it doesn’t really matter. pulling a bobby pin from her hair, she gets to work jamming it into the lock and wiggling it around. she can feel chris’ body heat behind her, and the cold air makes her want to sink into it. she’s a woman on a mission though, so she pushes the thought from her head.
she smirks when the lock clicks, like always, and pulls the door open. “lets go.”
the surprise on chris’ face is evident. he’s cautious, looking all around him. “are you insane? we are not breaking into a community center right now.”
y/n leans on the door with her arms across her chest. “scared?”
“very much, yes.” he looks at her with something incredulous in his eyes. “don’t really feel like getting arrested tonight.”
she rolls her eyes. “i promise you this isn’t the first, tenth or hundredth time i’ve done this.” she moves to stand directly in front of him then. “it’s a jersey teen rite of passage. we’ll be fine.”
he looks unsure, but he’d be kidding himself if he thought he could ever say no to her. the way she’s looking at him, with wide, sparkling eyes and plump, glossy red lips stretched into a smile that makes his heart thud. he’s a goner. already.
“fine.” he says, despite his better judgement. “lead the way, miss criminal.”
she just laughs as she pulls him inside. the sound makes him think that everything could go to shit in a matter of minutes, and it would all be worth it.
***
the sounds of their foot steps echo through the abandoned space. y/n leads chris through the darkness with expertise, helping him dodge strewn about chairs and walls that he nearly smacked into several times.
she’s giggling like a mad woman, making chris’ lips freeze in a permanent smile at the sound. when they get to where she wants to be she stops and tells him to close his eyes.
he hears the sound of a switch or two, and when he opens his eyes he’s met with a giant community sized pool and some bleachers in front of it. there’s a couple overhead lights, some benches lining the sides of the pool. it looks exactly like what you’d picture a rec center pool would look like.
the thing that catches his eyes though is the graffiti that paints the walls around him. vibrant colors and designs that are so intricate he can’t even wrap his head around it. he’s in awe. when y/n comes to stand in front of him, he looks from the wall to her still dumbfounded.
“this is fucking sick.” he travels to see the art up close, running his hands along the pictures. there’s a flurry of random images with a distinct style chris could never figure out the name for, but all his eyes and brain can register is that it’s fucking beautiful. “have these always been here?”
y/n is looking at the wall with nostalgia swirling through her irises. “kind of. there were a bunch of random additions over the years and it just became this big piece. heard the artist got caught a bunch of times but nothing could stop them.”
chris scoffs. “um, yeah, if i was this good at anything artistic i’d draw that shit on everything too.”
she laughs, turning to him with a mischievous look. he raises an eyebrow at her, questioning what the look was for. she doesn’t say anything, just leans down and starts taking off her shoes.
chris watches her with raised interest, heartbeat speeding up when she gets to the hem of her shirt. “i’m confused on the signals i’m getting right now.”
she shrugs, “strip.”
and with that she pulls of her top, exposing her deep red bra. chris’ eyes trace the valley of her chest and even though he feels like a dick, he can’t help it. he already thought she was the most beautiful girl he’d seen clothed, so her stripping in front of him wasn’t doing him or the pants he was wearing any favors. not to mention that moment in the car was constantly burning through his brain, making him hear. for her touch.
her skirt is off in the next second, and she’s looking at chris like he’s missing an opportunity. “are you gonna stand there and creep on me or are you gonna take your clothes off?”
he’s snapped out of the trance he was in and sends her a sheepish grin. “i’m still kinda lost on what we’re doing right now.”
y/n walks to him slowly, hair fanning out around her shoulders. chris find his hands itching to bury themselves in it, pulling, grasping or even just playing with it softly. when she’s right in front of him, he looks down at her. the sight nearly knocks him off his feet. she’s peering up at him through her eyelashes, eyes dark and sensual, mouth quirked up in a sinful smile. she brings her hands to the waistband of his cargo pants, toying with the button.
chris is hot all over. he can’t do anything but keep his eyes on her hands, following their every move. she pops the button with ease, “do you want me to do all the work or..?”
chris’ voice is shaky as he blows out a breath. “i mean kind of, yeah.”
“i think you’ve got it under control,” she says, voice like honey. “can you finish for me?”
it should be embarrassing how fast chris steps out of his shoes and shows his pants down to his ankles. he’s hoping his dick isn’t standing straight up because he’d probably try to drown himself.
when he’s down to his boxers, y/n trails a nail up his chest and puts her lips to his ear. “good boy.” he shudders, then questions himself cause what the fuck? but then he mentally shrugs because he knows that anything that fell out of her mouth would turn him on. “i really hope you can swim.”
the words register a second too late, because chris is suddenly submerged in water before he can even think to say anything. he hears y/n’s cackle on the way down, and can feel the break of water as she jumps in after him.
he pushes to the surface with a glare, splashing her as soon as she emerges. “you’re evil,” he says, huffing. “you distracted me.”
she splashes him back with a wide, genuine smile. “you’re a guy. distracting a child would be harder.”
chris rolls his eyes, taking the opportunity to lunge at her through the water. she squeals, manically laughing as he chases her around. they spend the next however long slashing each other and trying to dunk each other under water without getting too close to be grabbed.
y/n doesn’t know the last time she felt this good around a guy. the last time she was so allowing to have someone in her space. it makes her stomach turn in a delicious, tantalizing whirl of want.
chris catches her off guard finally, wrapping his arm around her waist as she tries to get away. he pulls her to him and she turns, taking it upon herself to get as close as possible. they’re treading water, looking at each other in the eye.
it feels like they’re having a conversation without saying the words, and y/n is terrified chris can hear her heart beating in the silence. he reaches up, tucking a wet strand behind her ear. the moment is oddly tender. “you’re beautiful.”
he says it so concretely that it makes her stomach (among other places) clench. like there was no room for debate. it’s probably the shyest she’s been all night when she looks down at the distorted sight of their legs underwater.
like a mind reader, chris nudges her burning cheek, making her look up. he’s close as he can be but still giving her space. he searches her eyes for a moment, before he starts to say something. “i-“
y/n is looking at him, waiting for him to finish but ultimately he doesn’t. “fuck it.” is the only thing he says before slotting his lips perfectly over hers.
it’s instantaneous, the way her body suctions itself to his. his right hand is gripping the base of her throat hotly, his other hand in her hip. her hands are in his hair and she’s moved to wrap her legs around his waist.
they’re pulling at each other like they’ve been apart for years. it’s desperate and needy, the way chris trails his lips down her neck, nipping and sucking on any part of skin he can see. the way she tugs roughly at his hair to pull him back up to her lips, like she can’t stand to be away from them for a second.
it’s the hottest thing either of them have literally ever experienced and she strongly believes that she’s about to fuck this man right here, right now.
only, they can’t, because there’s a sudden slam of a door and a jingle of keys. “hey! you can’t be in here!”
they pull apart instantly, and y/n’s eyes widen. “oh shit, we gotta go.”
“what the fuck—“ chris looks like a deer caught in headlights, but y/n has been through this way too many times to let them be caught.
she’s pulling chris’ arm with an iron grip to the side of the wall their clothes are at. “let’s fucking go, chris.”
it takes all of two seconds for him to move with her instead of against her. they pull themselves up the wall as the security guard moves from the open door with haste. y/n can’t help but laugh as chris fumbles around with his shit, almost slipping and falling to the ground.
“is that you, y/n?” the guard says, and she can feel chris’ confusion. she doesn’t stop though, continuing her escape with chris in row. “damn kids.”
“you’re fucking insane,” chris says through his own laugh because well, he can’t fucking believe this night. can’t believe this girl.
“little bit!” she calls over her shoulder as the guard chases them around the border of the pool. they run to the door in the other direction, bursting through to the arctic air.
“oh my fucking god my balls are shriveling up i can feel it.” chris says as they run barefoot, soaking wet and freezing cold.
they make it across the parking lot, all the way to chris’s car by the time the guard is at the back door, throwing their clothes and themselves in haphazardly.
chris shakes as he blasts the heat and slams on the gas. he’s out of the space in record speed, driving on to the main road a little fast until they’re a safe ways away. he looks over at her, and she’s already looking him. they burst out in the most insane, bizarre bout of laughter.
they look ridiculous. wet hair and in their underwear, shaking like falling leaves. it’s comical and unbelievable and they would never want to be anywhere else.
“god i was kidding when i called you a criminal but you really fucking are,” he shakes his head. “he knew your name and everything.”
“hey!” she says, holding her hands up. “there’s not much to do around here. sneaking into here was like a weekly routine when i was in high school.”
“my little jailbird. what the hell am i gonna do with you?” there’s a glint to his eyes and she shivers again, not from the cold.
she ignores the feeling and points up ahead to a small alley. “you’re gonna pull in there so we can put our fucking clothes on. i’m freezing.”
“completely your fault, by the way.”
“blah, blah, blah.” she looks at him while he focuses on the road. the smile that spreads on her lips makes her skin heat. “pull over.”
and he does.
***
it’s a little while later and chris and y/n sit in his backseat, joint being passed between them, now fully clothed.
y/n lays with her back pressed up against the back left door, legs outstretched and wide with chris laying between them. the weight of his ribs on her hips is heavenly, and all she’s been thinking about for the last ten minutes is how it’s not close enough.
her hand is resting at the top of his head, lazily twisting a strand of hair around her finger. chris hums every so often, body slouching down more into her body heat.
“hey,” he says. “tell me something true.”
she takes a long hit, holding the smoke in before exhaling. “i’m high as bones right now.”
they share a giggle, before chris swipes the joint from her fingers. “i said true, not obvious.”
she shrugs, watching the smoke around them swirl. “it’s both, actually.”
he shakes his head, looking up at her from his place on top of her. “seriously.”
she thinks for a minute. there’s one thing she can think of, but for some reason it feels embarrassing. the way chris is looking at her though, completely enthralled with low eyes makes her not care. “that was my graffiti at the pool.”
chris flounders for a second, mouth dropping open in slow motion. he moves slowly, but it feels abrupt. he spins his body so his back is now facing the other door. she misses his body weight already.
“no fucking way?” his eyes are as wide as they could possibly be, considering how intoxicated they both are.
y/n just shrugs, pulling the last hit and leaning forward to place the filter in an old pepsi can in the front seat. “not a big deal.”
chris scoffs incredulously. “not a big deal? not a big deal?” he shakes his head, his mop of hair bouncing. “you lied to me.”
“about what, exactly?”
“i asked you what your thing was. you told me you didn’t have one.” he gives her a pointed look. “that’s a pretty big thing to have.”
“i haven’t done any art in years,” she argues. “so not really my “thing” anymore.”
he won’t let it go and she has no idea why. a couple random pieces she did out of teenage rebellion were so far back in her brain that it wasn’t even a factor. it’s been years since she even drew anything.
“well get back to it,” he says. “cause that’s not the type of thing you just stop doing. you’re fucking incredible, y/n.”
the authenticity in the words makes her shift uncomfortably. she doesn’t know how to take it and she damn sure doesn’t know what to make of him staring at her like she was pablo picasso reincarnated. it was kind of freaking her out.
“yeah, yeah.” she says, because it’s all she can.
“i’m serious. you’re so talented.” he moves his face directly in front of hers. his eyes trace the expanse of her face so delicately, it makes her want to been seen by him always. “so fucking perfect.” he whispers.
the words fill her with a softness she doesn’t think she’s ever felt. he really means it. she can tell by how honest his eyes are and how tightly he’s gripping on to the spot right above her knee. she doesn’t know how to thank him, so she connects their lips as a sign. he takes it immediately. they stay like that for a couple moments, learning the ins and outs of each others mouths, languidly kissing.
then, she’s back to being on top of him, but with a fire igniting in the pit of her stomach. she’s grinding her hips down into him, chasing those pretty noises he makes at the back of his throat. she’s breathing heavily, mewls falling from her lips as he sucks a particularly deep bruise into her neck.
“your pace,” he says through a groan. although it almost physically pains him, he slows her hips. she whines, chasing the friction like a woman on a mission. “whatever you want.”
“what do you want?” like a brat, she removes his hands, rolling her hips sinfully slow. chris almost chokes on his own spit.
“just want you.”
it makes her dizzy, the desperation in his voice. she needs him now. “well you have me,” for the second time tonight, she pops open the button of his pants. she places a searing kiss on his lips, making him chase her own when she parts. “now make it count.”
and he does. so much so that y/n has to remind herself several times during it that this man, this moment— is just for tonight. no matter how much she wants differently to be true.
***
“yeah,” y/n says, disoriented and out of breath. “yeah we’re coming.”
chris snorts from his place in the drivers seat. he puts on his shirt, taking a second to run his hands through his hair, trying to fix it.
“already did. several times.”
y/n punches him in the arm, trying to listen to her best friend rattle the location they ended up at. she hums in reply, not really listening as she watches chris watch her, his hand wandering to the flesh of her thighs.
when he gets a little too close to her underwear she clamps her legs shut, sending him a look. he only smirks in reply.
she pulls the phone away slightly. “you’re insatiable.”
he shrugs. “when it comes to you? yeah.”
y/n hears her best friend gasp. “oh my god. you just got finished fucking!”
she can feel the heat rise to her face. “i’m hanging up now.”
“oh my god, bitch!” y/n heard shuffling, no doubt grabbing the attention of her other friend. “y/n fucked chris.”
she can hear a protesting bleh! that sounds like nick over the phone, before squeals fill her ears. she already knows her friends are very much drunk. “goodbye.”
when she hangs up, she turns and slaps chris on the shoulder. he flinches, but he’s laughing nonetheless. “you idiot.”
“what? like you weren’t gonna tell them?”
“yeah, tomorrow.” she emphasizes. “not tonight when they’re surrounded by your drunk brothers in the middle of a bar!”
“trust me,” he says, toothy grin shining. “nick and matt have heard worse.”
y/n rolls her eyes, “slut.”
chris doesn’t do anything but send her a dirty smirk, turning up the music and backing out of the parking lot they were in, weaving through the streets like he’s lived here all his life.
y/n can feel a dreadful weight settle in her gut, thinking that the night was approaching its end. through the silence she studies chris, wondering what he’s thinking. if he felt the connection between them as much she did. if he was just as unwilling to let it go. when they pull up outside the bar, she can see his brothers and her friends standing and laughing loudly outside, waiting for them. she wants to speak, but she doesn’t know what to say or how to say it. luckily for her, chris has never been one to stay silent for long.
“so.” he says, looking at her with what she thinks is nervousness. “am i gonna have to beg for your number? cause i have no shame. and i will.”
y/n lets out the breath she’d been holding. he felt it too. of course he did.
she outstretches her hand to which he places his phone into. she types in her contact, but before she presses save, she motions him close to her. “come here.”
she snaps the picture of them, cheeks pressed together sweetly and makes it her picture, sending it to herself as well. when she’s finished, chris grips her face in his hand and turns her to him, placing one last kiss to her lips.
it’s slow and intimate, no trace of tongue or the desperate need from before. it feels like a promise or a nudge towards the future. like this couldn’t possibly be the last one.
“text me. or call me. whatever. i’ll answer for you anytime.” he whispers into her mouth. she snaps a mental picture of the moment.
“i will.” she means it.
she gets out the car then, alerting her eccentric friends of her arrival. she gives nick and matt a brief hug as they pass her on the way to chris’ car, thanking them for keeping her friends safe.
she watches them all the way to the car, waving at chris once more as they pull away. she kind of feels like a piece of herself went with him.
“you have to tell us everything.” her best friend says, but y/n is somewhere far away.
“yeah, i will. tomorrow. for now, let’s get you drunk fucks to bed.”
he’s the only thing she can think about the whole way home.
***
eight months later
there’s a distinct difference in atmosphere between this night and then last is all y/n’s thinking as she pushes through the crowd of screaming girls to the back of the venue.
before, it was a lowkey bar with more drunk customers than excited fans. now, there’s people with band tees and signs, nearly passing out as she watches the band throw guitar picks and drumsticks into the crowd. her leather pants are sticking to her tightly, sweat collecting at the small of her back.
she’d gotten matt’s number from her best friend, texted him and told him that she’d be here tonight. chris had no idea, and while she was excited beyond belief to see him, there was a part of her that was riddled with insecurity that he wouldn’t share the same feelings.
they’d texted consistently for a couple months after that night. the odd phone call every few weeks to catch up. it was never awkward, despite how much time had passed. she missed him all the time when he wasn’t around, so every time they talked it felt so comforting she yearned to be in his presence again.
but then they got busy, and consistent texts turned into a random conversation here and there and a call once in a blue moon. the eventually, it turned to nothing at all. she still thought about him all the time, but she her fear held her back from ever reaching out. she assumed he felt the same. well that, and the fact that the guys’ band had found massive success seemingly overnight. she was happy for him, she just hoped there was still room in his memory and his life for her.
y/n paces around the band’s small dressing room while she waits. the anxiety is eating her alive, building a lump in her throat she’s scared won’t ever go away. she’s half a second away from running out of there and never looking back when the door opens.
and in walks chris, shirt off and slung over his shoulder. his hair is drenched with sweat, dark, baggy jeans low on his waist. the emotion that floods her makes her hands shake, so she wrings her hands together to make it stop. doesn’t work one bit.
chris hasn’t seen her yet, but she sees nick and matt in the entry way at the door, smiling and flashing her a thumbs up before they shut the door loudly. chris looks back the door in confusion.
“where the hell—“
“i’ve been stuck in this room for twenty minutes and you still haven’t noticed i’m here. remind me to never try to surprise you ever again.”
chris’ entire body stills. he looks up slowly, hair on his arms standing at full height. when he sees her, his eyes widen three times their normal size. his mouth opens and closes helplessly, so much so y/n can only laugh at him.
“you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
chris doesn’t move from his spot. “i feel like i’m looking at one.”
the eye contact they make is sweltering. all of sudden, the thoughts that had been plaguing her for so long fall away. chris walks to her slowly, like he’s afraid she’s gonna disappear if he moves too fast.
“are you really here right now?” he says, voice full of awe. “i feel like i’m going insane right now.”
she chuckles under her breath. “yes, chris. i’m really here right now.”
the sun opens up in that very room in that moment as soon as chris realizes what’s happening, cause he smiles so wide it looks like it might hurt. he closes the space between and hugs her, lifting her body off the ground.
“chris—“
“what the fuck are you doing here?” he questions, pulling back with his hands on her waist. “not that i’m not glad, i’m just fucking flabbergasted by it.”
y/n’s smile matches his. wide and unrelenting. “well,” she says, pulling a folded up flier out of her bag. she hands it to him, motioning for him to open it. “for this.”
chris’ eyes light up as he scans the paper. he looks at her with so much pride it almost knocks her off her feet. “you have an art show.”
“i do.” she nudges his shoulder. “someone told me once that it was my thing.”
chris wants to kiss her. so badly. he hadn’t seen her in months, hadn’t even spoken to her, but he feels that same thrum of electricity in his veins that he did that night. she looks even more beautiful than before. he can’t take it.
“so that’s why you’re in los angeles?” y/n knows the question is bait. she knows and she wants to keep up the calm and collected ruse really bad, except she thinks she might explode if she doesn’t feel her lips in his very soon.
“yeah,” chris’ shoulders shrug the tiniest bit. “that and this band i like was playing tonight. don’t tell anyone, but i kinda have a thing for the drummer.”
they’re moving closer to each other without even realizing it. chris’ hands have righted their grip on her and she’s about an inch from his face.
he smirks. “mm, good choice. i’ve heard he’s the hottest one.”
“biggest ego too.”
they don’t even have to question it. don’t even have to say the words. chris pulls her to him and closes the gap, his lips finding hers after so long. way too long.
y/n can feel how much he missed her in the way he’s holding her so tightly. she hopes she’s pouring the same feelings into this. kissing chris was like coming home after a hard day to your favorite spot on the couch. she never realized just how much she needed it, never knew how much she missed it until she had it again.
“i missed you.” he says, barely pulling away to say it.
“me too.” she says, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck.
with one final peck to her lips, chris hesitantly pulls himself away from her. “let me pack my shit and then we can get out of here. it’s my turn to show you around.”
y/n watches him move through the room in haste, dropping shit and bumping into chairs out of pure excitement. her heart swells twice in size, eyes sparkling at the thought of the night to come. she knows this time is different. there was no way either of them was going to let go for a second time.
chris sends her a blinding smile while he packs his backpack and she knows, just knows this man is going to be someone special to her. with the way her heart pounds just by looking at him, he already is.
thank god for boys in bands.
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Hi, I wanted to ask for a Clarisse fanfic where the reader is gifted in the arts? I would also like to ask that the reader be a daughter of Hades :)
What’s a girl to do
Pairings - Clarisse La rue x daughter of hades! Fem! Reader
An - this lowkey sucked but YALL will live
You had always been gifted in the arts. From dance, music, art itself and even theater.
Being that you were a hades kid most kids avoided you, not that because your dad was the king of the underworld but because just being around you gave them an unsettling feeling.
Something every great artist had was a muse, someone they could go to for inspiration, someone that gave their work meaning. But you? You didn’t have a muse.
Sure you’ve had inspiration come from all types of media but never once did you have an actual person you could call your muse.
That had changed though when you met clarisse. It started out small with small doodles of her. Then she started to show up as small details in your song lyrics. And even going as far as using her as your model in your photos
You two were friends.. but you knew you wanted more then that.
——
Clarisse spun her spear around on the sandy beach. She was so in the moment that she hadn’t heard the sound of your camera going off.
She ended in a pose with her spear tucked under her arm. Panting that’s when she realized you were sitting near by.
“You know its creepy to take photos of people without their knowledge right”
“Eh you’ll live” you smiled. Clarisse had always been beautiful even in situations like now where she was panting and sweaty from her workout.
You walked over towards her smiling sat the picture
She was a natural. The way clarisse moved her body it was like she was meant to be infront of the camera.
subconsciously you started leaning into her to show her the photo. “this one here, I like how your curls kinda spun around with you, you know” You smiled, clarisse nodded placing a hand around your waist, she had always done that but it didn’t mean it didn’t get you flustered everytime.
“Mmhm” she stuck her spear in the ground before reaching over placing her free hand onto yours clicking back on the camera to a photo of her standing with her spear pointed down the sun hitting her at a certian angle adding dramatics. “this one is better”
“Well I think both are fine” you smiled looking over at clarisse. Your faces were close. So close if you even just moved a little you might accidentally kiss.
You waited for clarisse to do something, to move away and tell you to piss off but she didn’t. Instead you started to feel her rub circles on your hip.
Almost out of a movie mark clarisses bother appeared. “Clarisse!” He yelled gaining the now irritated girls attention.
“The hell do You want Mark im busy” she looked over at him not wanting to deal his bullshit. “It’s Sam and Jane, they got into another fight and are in the infirmary now Chiron wants to see you about it all”
You watched as clarisses closed her eyes trying to calm down even a little. She looked back at you before squeezing your hip and letting go to head off to beat her siblings.
You stood there frozen and embarrassed. Clarisse didn’t like you. There was no way if anything she liked silena. Clarisse only saw you as a friend…
Right..
——
Around 3am you decided to sneak out of your cabin not able to sleep.
Lazily walking around the camp trying to not get caught you noticed a familiar girl jumping out the ares cabin window. Using shadow travel you quickly moved to stand beside the cabin.
Clarisse sighed as she landed on the ground, silently closing the window “since when did you sneak out”
“Fuck!” She whisper yelled having to pull her hand back from hitting you. “What the hell are you doing out here”
“Selling hardcore drugs— now you tell me why your ever so quietly leaving your cabin” you sarcastically spoke. Clarisse rolled her eyes in defiance. “Your a pain in my ass you know” she scoffed.
You shrugged your shoulders. “You’ve said worse to Me” starting to follow the girl into the forest you took in the scenery.
The full moon brought you a sense of comfort, mainly in the fact that the goddess nyx had always brought protection to people in need through the veil of night.
Clarisse continued until she came to a clearing in the woods, high on the mountian side and far enough away from the camp you wouldn’t get caught but high enough you could see the stretched out lake.
“Wow..” you whispered. “I never new this spot existed”
“That’s supposed to be the point”
“Is this where you take girls to makeout with them then torture them before k—“
“I’m not some insane serial killer dumbass” clarisse laughed pushing you softly before sitting down. You followed her lead sitting a little to close to her.
After a few moments you watched as clarisse silently complained befote grabbing some Kindle Wood arranging it to make a small fire. Using a lighter most likely taken from the big house.
After sitting back watching the fire clarisse looked over at you. “How long have you been doing all this shit”
You raised an eyebrow confused. “You mean photography” you chuckled, Clarisse nodded in response her face unreadable.
You sighed for a moment “uhh I’m not really sure, I just I’ve always had a passion for the arts and been naturally gifted in them, I like photography the best with painting being right underneath though” you tucked some hair behind your ear slightly embarrassed.
“Why me” she continued to asked. “Like out of every camper here why am I the one you take the most photos of me”
“Well I Ju—“
“Wait wait don’t tell me you like me” clarisse laughed at the end of her statement. You went to speak but decided to stay quiet letting clarisse finish her laughing fit it. She soon stopped looking over with a playful face. “Wait seriously.. you use me as your muse because you like me”
You started to get up embarrassed walking away quickly not wanting to listen to the girl yelling after you. About five steps into your leave clarisse grabbed your arm. “Gods damnit can you just wait” she huffed.
“Yeah because I just love being laughed at thanks clarisse” you tried to pull your arm away but it was pointless “you know it’s actually really shitty to laugh at someone when you find out they like yo—“
You were cut off by clarisse grabbing your head and crashing her lips against yours. Not caring how messy it was, clarisse kept a firm hold on your head while grabbing your waist pushing you against her.
The kiss moved from messy to controlled. You let clarisse hold you close, soft breaths leaving both your mouths not wanting to pull away but still needing to breathe.
Pulling away you felt clarisses hot breath on your lips. “Do you ever stop talking” she asked now with her hand on the side of your face comfortingly rubbing circles. You rolled your eyes but kept quiet, your arms around clarisses neck.
Clarisses kissed you once again slowly, she pulled away kissing your cheek. “I like you to dumbass”
“Really..?”
“Uh yeah you really think I let anyone take photos and draw me?”
You playfully pushed the girls shoulder before pulling her back into a grinful kiss
“Great now that we’re together can we please go back to the fire it’s cold as shit out here”
“Whatever La rue”
#lesbian#wlw#clarisse la rue#clarisse pjo#clarisse x reader#percy jackson fanfiction#clarisse my beloved#clarisse x female reader#butch clarisse#clarisse la rue x reader#clarisse x you#clarisse larue#pjo show#percy jackson show#pjo fandom#percy jackson
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The First Taste (p. 3)
DBF!Joel Miller x F!Reader
Summary: You thought that it was just going to be you and your dad watching football together, but a lonely Joel comes over to join you two.
Warnings: SMUT!! pet names, porn with little plot, dom!joel, age gap, PiV, daddy kink, joel is a little bit of a perv, cursing, breast play?, reader and joel almost caught by reader's dad, teasing, fingering, slight dom!reader, hair pulling, football, joel is lonely, mentions of sarah, tommy, and maria
Song Inspo (feel free to listen if you want): Bathroom by Montell Fish
Part 1 Part 2
A/N: not me being gone for months...i swear i did not forget about yall! i had this saved in a google doc since november and haven't had the time nor motivation to finish it until now YAY
Enjoy babies! Please reblog, share, like, and comment if you want. <333
It was a shame—there you were, sitting on the couch at home on a Thursday night, waiting for your dad to get back from the store so the two of you could have some snacks while watching football. You didn’t know much about the sport, but it’s not like you had nothing better to do.
You called your friend and asked her if she would be down to hang out tonight, but lately, she would much rather hang out with her boyfriend than her best friend. While you were a little disappointed by her response, a part of you also felt relieved by her answer.
It’s not like you had much energy these days after recently getting a job as a teacher assistant at the local elementary school, and while it had been a job that you enjoyed a lot, it was also a demanding job that took a lot of your energy. You were constantly running back and forth from the classroom to the copy room to grab a stack of papers for the teacher, occasionally having to console kids or sometimes having to stop a lesson because someone peed themselves. The teachers would also ask you to create lessons for the day, which took up a lot of your free time outside of the classroom. You didn’t mind it though; after all, it is your job, and more often than not, the kids were sweet and would be on their best behavior depending on the day.
Today was different; you weren’t as tired as you usually are after work, you didn’t have any work to do, and you had the day off tomorrow. And for that, you were grateful.
You were lazily stretched out on the couch, watching whatever was on ESPN before the game was set to start. You check your phone for the time and notice that it is almost 8 o'clock and your dad isn't back yet.
It shouldn’t take him this long to get back, you think to yourself.
You decide to call him to check up on him, but as soon as you press his contact, you hear a knock at the front door. This confused you for a second because your dad usually used his key to open the door, but maybe he couldn’t since he was carrying bags. You get off the couch and walk to the front door.
“Took you long enou-” you say right as you swing the door, thinking that it was your dad. However, you cut yourself off when you realized who it was.
No, it was not your dad, but the last person you were expecting to see today.
The one and only Joel-fucking-Miller
“Joel,” you try to sound as normal as possible, but it was obvious from your tone that you were shocked. “W-what are you doing here?” You asked him. You could see the corner of his lips quirk up at your nervousness before going back to his usual serious look.
It’s not like it is uncommon for Joel to be over at your house, but it was usually during the times you were out of the house. Or your dad would be the one to greet him at the door. After Tommy and Maria moved away and Sarah was out of the house more, Joel's appearances at your house became more frequent.
“Just here to watch the game with your dad,” he says as he points inside the house. “You mind if I come in, darlin’?”
“Shit! I’m sorry,” you say, opening the door wider and moving out of the way. “Please, come in.”
“Thank you, sweetheart,” he says as he enters. You could smell his warm scent just as he walked right past you, making you almost want to go and throw yourself onto him.
As you were closing the door, you closed your eyes and let out a loud sigh before making your way back to the couch. You felt like a baby deer walking for the first time because you could feel Joel’s eyes on you. And to make matters worse, your legs had brushed against his as you passed by him, causing you to apologize immediately as if he were going to eat you for accidentally touching him.
“You’re fine, sweetheart,” he chuckles. You sigh with relief before sitting down on the couch, leaving a seat between the two of you.
The two of you sat there in silence—you sat there tense, while Joel sat there relaxed and unaffected.
A sense of guilt crept up on you as you sat there, looking at the TV screen in deep thought.
It had been about two years since whatever that was between you and Joel at the lake, and you still felt guilt whenever your dad would bring him up to you.
Whenever Joel did come around, he usually brought Sarah with him, and you would hang out with her most of the time. You felt bad for using Sarah as an escape from her dad, but you couldn’t deal with being around Joel.
“Your dad told me about that new job of yours,” Joel asked you, causing you to look over at him. He was looking at you with frowning eyebrows and eyes full of curiosity. “How’s it goin’?”
“It’s nice; it’s fun working with the kids and all that stuff.” You say, sounding a little too enthusiastic.
“That’s good, sweetheart. I’m proud of you.” He says sincerely, and the dimple on his cheek deepens as he gives you a small grin, almost causing your heart to jump out of your chest.
Thanks. You say lowly as your face warms up at his words. You liked hearing him say he was proud of you; it made you feel tingly and warm inside. “How’s Sarah been? I haven't seen her around lately,” you say as you try to replace the silence that fell over you two.
"Oh, that girl—she's hardly ever home these days,” Joel sighs in defeat as he scratches his graying beard. “I can’t even get her to sit down and have a meal with me,” he said lowly.
All you could do was stare at Joel with a sympathetic look.
Looking up from his lap, Joel's eyes sparkled with amusement as he looked at you. Watching as you stared at him with your lips frowned down. “Don’t look at me like I'm some wounded animal, sweet girl. I’ll be just fine.” His southern accent sounds more prominent as he says it.
“Sorry,” you mumbled as you looked away from him, feeling embarrassed for some reason.
Joel was about to say something to you before you heard the sounds of keys at the front door. You knew that it must’ve been your dad at the door, struggling to get his keys, so you helped him. However, Joel stopped you from getting up after he put his arm in front of you as he got off the couch.
“I’ll help him, sweetheart,” he says as he winks at you and makes his way to the door to help your dad.
Oh, Joel.
As soon as Joel opens the door, they both loudly greet each other. He grabs the bags out of your dad's hands and makes his way to the kitchen, where he helps him put things away.
A part of you knew deep down that it was going to be a long night.
…
About halfway through the game, you were falling asleep as you sat comfortably in the corner of the couch, covered in your blanket. However, your dad and Joel made sure to keep you up as they talked loudly to each other or even loudly cursed at the TV.
Suddenly, your dad’s phone began to ring loudly, interrupting their conversation.
You could hear the groan of the leather recliner as your dad stretched out so that he could reach into his pocket to grab his phone.
“Ah, fuck,” your dad says as he looks at the caller ID. “Gotta take this real quick,” your dad says as he gets up and looks at Joel. “Let me know what happens,” he says as he gestures to the TV, to which Joel nods his head. Joel watched as your dad shuffled down the hall and into his office before shutting the door behind him.
It was now just the two of you, alone.
You knew he was watching you because you could feel Joel’s gaze burning into your skin, and you were trying your hardest not to look at him. You sat there, as stiff as a board, as your breathing began to pick up.
“You alright there, darlin’? You look a little nervous over there."
“I’m fine, Joel,” you said curtly as you kept your eyes on the TV.
He lets out a deep hum, and you almost feel yourself relax as you believe that is the end of your interaction. But Joel speaks again: “Why don’t you come sit with me, sweetheart?" he said as he patted the open spot next to him on the couch.
You look over at him, and you see that he has this smirk on his face. “I ain’t gonna bite you too hard, baby,” he winks at you with a click of his tongue. You felt
“Come on and be a good girl before your daddy comes back, yeah?”
It was evident that Joel knew how to talk to you and get you to do anything he wanted because you hesitantly rose off of the couch and made your way over to him. His devilish smirk grows wider, making you even more nervous.
Just as you are about to sit down next to him, Joel grabs your hips with his strong hands, causing you to let out a yelp as you plop down on his lap. And there you were, sitting sideways on his lap with your back against the arm of the couch.
You could feel the anger bubbling inside of you at his actions. You were upset that he would grab you like that.
You turned your head to look at Joel as you began to quietly scold him, afraid that your dad would come out of his office and find you sitting on his friend's lap. “Are you actually out of your fucking mind, Joel? What if my dad-”
Before you could continue, Joel cut you off by placing his warm hand on your thigh with that smirk still on his face. "Oh, darlin’, we’re just sitting here,” he says while looking at you with his brown eyes as he begins to stroke close to your inner thigh with his fingers. “Unless you want me to do somethin’ else," he almost whispers to you as he strokes his fingers further up your thigh.
You turned your focus away from Joel and to where he was touching you, nearly letting out soft whimpers, but you stopped yourself before they could escape your mouth. “You like that, baby?" He says this as he holds his other hand, resting on the couch, to the back of your neck, holding a firm grip.
Rather than responding, you just shook your head, leaving Joel unsatisfied because he knew you were lying. He takes his hand from your thigh and brings it to your neck. Now, both of his hands were holding you in place by your neck, and you would be lying again if you said you didn’t enjoy this.
“Don’t fuckin lie to me, girl. Look me in the eyes and tell me you liked it,” he says as his erection grows.
You decided you were going to have fun as well.
With his firm grip of both of his hands around your neck, you try your best to turn your head and look at him fully. You look down at his lips before looking into his eyes. “Mm, I loved it, Joel."
And you were going to take it a step further by placing your hand over his on your throat and making him grip it tighter. “I love it so much, Daddy." You whispered even though the TV volume was high enough that your dad wouldn’t hear what was going on.
You watch the smirk leave his face, and this dark look flashes in his eyes; he’s serious now.
“I bet you do, baby,” he says in his husky voice as his fingers dig into your neck. You move your hand down to his wrist as your other one goes for his pointer finger and brings it to your warm mouth. Joel inhales sharply as you suck on the tip of his finger and tease your tongue around it. The sensation of you sucking on his finger immediately shot down to his cock, causing it to strain in his pants, and you could feel it against your thigh.
Everything about the situation turned Joel on—something about the thrill of his best friend walking out of his office and seeing his daughter sitting on his lap while she sucked on his finger turned him on. He watched closely as your lips were wrapped around his finger, watching as the spit slid down his finger.
It felt like the two of you were in your world before hearing your dad’s office door swing open. The two of you immediately began to panic; you pulled Joel’s finger out of your mouth and threw yourself off of his lap and onto the cushion next to him as you heard your dad’s footsteps creeping closer to the living room. There wasn’t much time to scoot away from Joel without looking suspicious, but you tried to leave an appropriate amount of space between you two.
In the corner of your eye, you see Joel drop his hands down onto his lap to cover his erection.
“Well, what happened?” Your dad asked as he flopped down into his leather recliner with a groan.
“Not sure,” Joel says coolly as he reaches over to grab his beer from the coffee table and takes a quick sip—still trying to cover himself.
“What the hell do you mean? You were right here the whole time." Your dad further pushes for an answer.
God, if only he knew the real reason, he’d freak out. He’d probably do more than freak out.
“We were talkin’ the whole time; wasn’t even payin’ attention,” Joel said with amusement. “Ain’t that right, darlin’?” he says as he gently nudges your knee. Meanwhile, you could feel your face heating with embarrassment at his words, knowing they weren’t true. What the two of you were doing was far from just talking.
You looked over at Joel with a wide, fake smile and said, “Yup, that’s right. Joel was just showing me something on his phone."
Your dad mutters something under his breath as he turns his attention to the game, causing you to finally drop the fake smile. Meanwhile, you and Joel are still staring at each other; more so, you are giving him a death glare while he looks at you with an entertained gleam in his eyes. Once he did look away, you couldn't take your eyes off of him.
You didn’t know if you were mad or if you wanted to fuck him.
…
For the rest of the time, you busied yourself by being on your phone the whole time. The conversation between Joel and your dad had come to a stop after your dad kicked his feet up on his recliner, laid back, and went to sleep, leaving Joel to watch the game by himself silently.
Whenever Joel got bored or there was a commercial break, he would pick up his phone and check his email or text messages before setting his phone back down and letting out a loud huff.
There was a part of you that felt bad for not making conversation with him, but you were unable to shake the sexual tension that lingered between you two.
You drop your phone on your lap before turning to Joel and clearing your throat to catch his attention. “Can I get you water or something?” You ask Joel over the sound of the football commentator's laughter and your dad’s snoring.
Joel’s eyes move from the TV to you, making you feel nervous now that his attention is on you. “I’m good, darlin’,” he says as he gives you a quick, small smile before turning his gaze back to the game.
You just nodded your head, even though he wasn’t looking at you, and attempted to distract yourself with your phone again.
So much for making conversation, you think to yourself as you cringe with embarrassment.
In the midst of you scrolling through your Instagram feed, you feel a warm, callused hand snake onto your thigh, almost scaring the living hell out of you until you realized it was’s hand Joe
You both sat silently, making no attempt to move an inch as his hand rested on the inside of your thigh, almost as if he were waiting for you to push his hand away, but you never did.
Instead, you make sure that your dad is still sound asleep before you shift your body towards Joel, inching your body closer to him. You adjusted yourself so that your left leg was up with the blanket draped over it, while the other one rested halfway on Joel’s thigh. If your dad were to wake up, it’s not like he would know what you and Joel were doing.
He starts to stroke your thigh before slowly moving his hand up and stopping at the band of your sweatpants. Your heart was racing, so eager for him to touch you.
Without looking, Joel’s fingers find the waistband of your sweatpants, causing your breathing to hitch and your heart to beat faster. Once his fingers sip in, he slowly reaches your center. You felt as if you were on the brink of cumming right then and there. His touch was slow and sensual, as he gently teased your clit as he spread your arousal.
Who knew a man like him could touch you like this?
You felt your senses becoming clouded as he did this. Oh fuck, you whimpered a little too loudly before you could even realize it, making you slap your hand over your mouth.
Joel looks down at you, continuing to spread your wetness around. “You okay, darlin’?” He asks you so casually, as if his hands are not in your pants, rubbing your clit. You can see the look in his eyes as his eyebrows quirked, waiting for you to answer him.
Mmhm, you whimper after letting out a shaky sigh as you finally release your hand from over your mouth.
He leaned over so he could whisper to you, “You like that, baby? You like when I play with that pretty pussy?” You nodded in response as you bit down on your bottom lip, fearing that if you did open your mouth, you would immediately wake up your dad. “I know you do; you like it when daddy makes you feel good, yeah?”
Joel’s eyes quickly shifted to your dad before looking back at you. That’s when his slow circles became faster. Again, you slapped your hand over your mouth, trying to conceal any noises, while the other clawed at Joel’s forearm. Your thighs trembled as you neared the edge of your orgasm; your eyes were closed, and your head dropped onto Joel’s shoulder.
“Y'gonna cum, girl?” Joel says lowly, his fingers never letting up as he applies more pressure. “Answer me, or else you won’t cum at all.” You tried to get the words to come out of your mouth, but you couldn't, as the knot in your stomach was nearly unraveled for him.
Sticking to his word, Joel watched as you got closer and closer to your orgasm—watching the way your hand tried to wrap around his wrist, the way that you held your breath, or the way your toes wiggled in your socks before going completely still—that's when he knew you were about to cum.
However, he quickly pulled his hand from your pants, leaving you in a state of disappointment and shock. It was almost hilarious to Joel as he watched the wave of disappointment and anger flash over your face. He knew you wanted to scold him, but he didn’t care.
“Aw, you mad, baby?” Joel teased, making you roll your eyes at him. “You should be a good girl next time and listen.”
Then, an idea pops into your head.
“Come to the bathroom with me." You whisper to him before getting up and running to the bathroom, not waiting for an answer from him.
You were determined to get your way with him, even if that meant having your way with him in your bathroom.
Once you were in the bathroom, your heart was pounding as you listened to the sound of Joel’s heavy feet making their way up the stairs and to the bathroom.
He softly knocks on the door with his knuckle before he opens the door halfway and slips inside. As soon as he shut the door behind himself and turned around to you, you grabbed Joel by his collar and smashed your lips against his. Even though you had shocked Joel with your forwardness, he had no problem returning your kiss. His hands were pawing at your back as you began to release his collar and go down to his belt. Joel’s cock strained in his pants as you hurriedly undid his belt and pants.
Once you did finally get it open and pull his pants down enough to gain access to his cock, you broke the kiss and looked down.
You gasp, and your mouth waters at the sight.
The dark hairs that sat on the base complimented Joel’s thick, heavy cock beautifully.
You drag your fingers through the fuzz before gripping his shaft and stroking down to the head of his cock. He softly moans your name. “Is this all for me, Joel?” You asked him as you looked into his eyes, and his grip on your back tightened.
He had to keep his composure as you began to stroke him at a slow pace. “All for you, baby,” he says, his eyes looking deeply into yours with a look you can only describe as lustful. He looked at you as if he were going to devour you, and you would gladly let him.
With every stroke, Joel would pull you closer to him, still making eye contact as you did it.
“Does my hand feel good wrapped around your cock, Joel?” You cooed at him and began to speed up your pace on his heavy cock, not giving him any time to respond. His eyebrows immediately frowned with pleasure as he licked his lips. “You like it when I stroke you like this?”
Because of his lack of response, you reach your arm up to bring his head close to your face, still stroking his cock. “Come on, Joel. Answer me.” You ask him lowly in his ear, demanding from him like he did to you on the couch. After you said this, you felt him immediately thrust into your fist as his hands flew down on you and he groaned into your neck.
“Feels so good, darlin’,” he says, borderline moaning at the way you were making him feel.
Not that Joel was getting laid daily, but when he did, women never acted this way with him. It was usually him who was the dominant one calling the shots, but he liked what you were doing to him. And it was wrong—it was wrong for him to love it this much, especially because of how much younger you were than him and because your dad is one of his closest friends.
You feel his facial hair on your neck as he begins to place soft kisses there. “You’re so big, Joel.” You whimper, still stroking him. “I want you to fuck me."
“Yeah?” he says against your neck before grunting. “You think you can handle this cock, darlin’?”
"You think you can handle me, old man?” You say it back to him, trying to get under his skin, which worked because he pulled away from your neck and looked at you with a cocked eyebrow.
“Come on, take your clothes off, darlin’,” he tells you as he tugs at your shirt and releases you from his hold. You start by pulling off your shirt and then going to your bottoms. While you did this, you took in Joel’s appearance.
He stood there with his jean shirt exposing his chest and neck, his curls wildly laid against his forehead, and his hard cock hanging out of his pants. He looked like something straight out of a porn magazine.
Joel noticed that you were struggling with your bra as he watched you try to unhook it. “Here, let me help you, darlin’.” You nodded your head and turned around.
In the mirror, you can see Joel shamelessly eyeing your ass before looking back up and meeting your eyes in the mirror. You look back at him with a cocked eyebrow, letting him know that you saw him staring at your ass. And without saying anything, he steps forward and gives your ass a quick spank, causing an echo in the bathroom. You let out a yelp—surprised and turned on at the same time.
“Joel,” you scold him as you look at him through the mirror.
Yeah, yeah, was all he said as he brushed off your words. He quickly undoes your bra before sliding the straps down your arms with his fingertips and letting the undergarment fall onto the floor. While he did this, you felt a tingle run down your spine as you began to form goosebumps on your arm, and your nipples hardened.
“Fuck, look at that." His voice trails off as he looks at your breasts through the mirror. “Lookin’ so desperate for your daddy, ain’t that right, darlin'?" You watch as his arms snake around you before he cups your breasts. Thoughtlessly, you nodded your head in agreement with him; however, in the midst of that, Joel began to tweak your nipples with his thumb and pointer fingers.
He lets out a deep hum, almost in approval, as he takes in the sight of you two and gives your nipple one last tug before his left hand trails down slowly, while the right is still cupping your breast. Joel’s fingers dove between your thighs, teasingly rubbing his warm, thick fingers on your lips as he gathered the arousal that dripped from you. You release a muffled whine as you press your lips shut.
“Jesus Christ, darlin’,” Joel growls in your ear as he brings his hand to eye level to observe your wetness that was clinging onto his fingers before licking it off. You watch through the mirror as he licks every last drop off of his fingers. “Fucking delicious,” he mutters quietly as he pulls them out of his mouth before placing a soft kiss on your neck and shoulder.
You feel your stomach tighten with longing for the older man, and your head becomes fizzy, making you close your eyes and roll your head to the side.
That was until Joel moved his hand from your breast and up to your throat. “Uh-uh, I want you to keep lookin’,” he says firmly, causing your eyes to flutter open and catch his eyes in the mirror. “That’s right, darlin’,” Joel mutters.
With the size of his hand, he had a firm grip on your neck, ensuring your head did not move from the mirror.
Joel brings his fingers back down to your pussy and brings your lower half closer to his. As he played with your clit, you could feel him humping against your ass, spreading his precum on it. You tried so hard to stop the moans from slipping out. It was to the point that you could almost feel the skin on your bottom lip begin to tear.
You let out a huff of air before looking at Joel with pleading eyes. “Fuck, Joel I-I need you to fuck me. Please,” You beg him in your softest voice.
“You’d like that? Wouldn’t you, darlin’?” Joel taunts you while still rubbing a circle around your clit.
"Yes!" you moaned at him.
“I know you would, pretty girl,” While playing with your clit, Joel spoke lowly in your ear again. “Daddy’s gonna take good care of you; don’t worry.”
Without wasting a second, he releases his grip around your neck and moves his hands away from your pussy. He places his hand on your back and slowly pushes you over the sink, while he uses the other to spread your legs open. Your hands grip the sides of the sink with your face inches away from the mirror, breathing heavily as you watch Joel.
You could feel your pussy clench around nothing as he grabbed onto your waist and spit onto his fingers before rubbing it onto his cock. Joel teases your slit with the fleshy tip of his cock, forcing a mixture of a moan and a groan out of your mouth. You push your ass against him, hoping that he'll allow himself to enter you. And he does.
The moment his head pushed into you, you could feel yourself stretching around him as you both met each other's thrust. Straightaway, you and Joel were gasping at the sensation.
“Holy hell, darlin’,” Joel groans shakily as his eyes clamp. “Tight fuckin’ cunt you got.”
“You’re so big,” you weep quietly to him as you begin to slowly fuck yourself onto his cock. “I can feel you deep in me.”
Joel let out a breathy chuckle. “Fuck—look at you, so fucking desperate for my cock,” he taunts while he strokes your ass with his wide palm, making an effort not to bring it down onto your ass cheek. “Tell me how much you like having me in you."
This made you want to keep going, wanting to keep pleasing Joel, so you picked up. You made sure to throw your ass back on him as much as possible.
“So much—I love it so much, fucking much, daddy."
You weren’t sure where this was coming from, but you liked it.
“Oh fuck, I know you do, baby. Keep fucking yourself onto my cock." Joel nearly growls as you watch him in the mirror intently. You watch as he looks down, where you are both connected with a slack jaw, taking in the view.
You are now making it your mission to make him cum. And for some reason, you didn’t mind prioritizing Joel’s pleasure over your own—with past hookups, you made it your priority to get yours before letting them get theirs first.
But this was something different; you liked being able to make a man like Joel cum first.
The sound of your ass hitting his front was loud, and his heavy breathing almost made you cum. But with a lot of restraint, you were able to keep yourself from letting your eyes roll to the back of your head and watch Joel inch closer to his orgasm.
“Cum for me, Joel,” you moan, encouraging him as he curses. You thought that he was going to thrust into you as he held you in place, but instead, you felt him quickly pull out of you, resting his damp forehead on your back as he tried to catch his breath. You let out a whine of disappointment. “Why’d you pull out?”
It took him a couple of seconds to respond, “I been wanting to fuck you since I first laid eyes on you, pretty girl. You think I’d cum that fast?" He asked you.
“Now, come on, put your leg up so Daddy can go deeper, baby.” He tells you as he taps your thigh.
Deeper? How much deeper does he need to go? You ask yourself; nonetheless, you still did as he said, a little curious.
You tightly grip the sink and begin to put your feet on the toilet lid. Joel makes sure to hold onto your hips and guide your foot. “Trust me, sweetheart, it’ll feel real good,” he says with a grin.
He firmly grabs your hips and drills into you without any warning. “Oh my god,” you moan loudly while deeply inhaling. “Fuck, Joel!” you said, feeling overwhelmed by the feeling of the tip of Joel’s cock pressed deeply inside of you.
With this new position, you could feel every inch of him in you—the head of his cock, his shaft, the way his cock twitched when he felt your pussy fluttering around him.
“I know, it’s okay,” he says after he hushes you, attempting to keep you quiet. “You just gotta—fuck—you gotta stay quiet.”
An ache formed in Joel’s lower back from his speed, and he knew it would fuck up his whole day tomorrow, but that didn’t stop him.
You feel Joel’s fingers grab a handful of your hair, starting from the root, and tug your body to his.
He noticed that your eyes were tightly closed as he continued to brutally thrust into you. With his grip still firm on your hair, he grabs your neck with his other hand and holds you in place. “Op-open your eyes, pretty girl. Look at yourself while I fuck this tight pussy of yours,” Joel grunts into your ear, making you whimper.
You force yourself to open your eyes, and when you do, the familiar knot in your stomach almost comes undone.
“Don’t stop, baby." Your voice quivers as your legs tremble. But with Joel’s grip on your neck, he stops you from going down. “I-I’m gonna cum,”
The bathroom was filled with all types of noises as he was now slowly fucking you through your orgasm.
“Cum for daddy, darlin’, cum all over my cock.”
And that’s when you finally came.
Over the sounds of skin slapping and the squelching from your wet pussy, Joel talks you through your orgasm, whispering how much of a good girl you were for him and how good you were making him feel.
He finally slowed down his pace as you came down. He could feel your cunt pulsate on his cock, bringing him to his climax.
Joel releases you and pulls out before jerking off on your ass and spilling his warm seed onto your soft skin.
“Oh my god, Joel,” you moan as you feel the thick, milky white substance paint your ass. By the second spurt of cum hitting your ass, he bites down on your shoulder, trying to silence his loud, tired groans as he cums.
You made Joel cum harder than he ever did before.
After a few deep breaths later, you and Joel had finally calmed down, feeling fucked out and tired.
He lets out a sigh before wiping the sweat off his forehead and looking down at the watch on his wrist. “Alright, darlin’,” he says as he tucks himself back into his pants and fixes his shirt. “Gotta get out of here before your old man wakes up."
“It was a little too late for you to say that now,” you joke with a relaxed grin on your face as you turn around to him to get one more look at him. It quickly fell when you realized that Joel could hardly look you in the eyes. “You okay?”
He tries to give you his best phony smile while attempting to look you in the eyes. ”I’m fine, sweetheart; I gotta get home to Sarah before it gets too late." Joel lies through his teeth and avoids eye contact again, hoping that you couldn’t see through him. “You should get yourself cleaned up and ready for bed. I’ll straighten up and use the spare to lock the door when I go." He nods his head at you in a bid to say bye and reaches for the doorknob as if he wasn’t balls deep in you a few minutes ago.
You move out of his way, and he leaves without either of you saying another word to each other.
And there you were—naked, ass covered in his cum, embarrassed, and hurt.
A/N: i will make a masterlist soon i swear but I hope y'all liked it!! *MWAH*
#smut#the last of us#joel x reader#joel miller#joel the last of us#joel miller smut#tlou fanfiction#joel miller x reader#neighbor!joel#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#dads best friend#dbf!joel#dbf!joel miller#dbf!joel miller x reader#dbf!joel x you
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*Touches your shoulder* Hey~ what about 42! Miles morales x shy!reader
SUPER SHY
Pairing: Miles42! X Shy! Black Plus size Fem Reader
Summary : Y/N has been infatuated with miles for a hot minute but she's too shy to say anything and to make the first move. She would never think that he knows of her or even notices her until one small incident.
A/N: Miles is any age you want him to be in the fic, New jeans dropped super shy and it goes with this fic perfectly! THANK YOU FOR THE REQ As a recovering shy person you know I had to do my big one with this one ENJOY GUYS!!! Here’s Pt.2
It was a new day at Visions Academy; you blasted Tyler the Creator in your air pods while walking through the hallways. It was soothing to sound out all the noise. You walk into your first class ELA sitting down sighing wanting to go home. You put your head down wanting to get the school day over with. You suddenly hear noises over your headphones. You look to your left, and it was Miles and his friends being loud, you roll your eyes at his friends but keep your eyes on Miles, he looked so fine with his 2 braids you thought to yourself. You didn’t even realize you were staring, Miles looked feeling eyes on him making eye contact with you grinning. You felt your heart drop to your ass, thinking that he wouldn’t even notice you. To you, you thought Miles was kind of out of your league, he was kind of popular, all the girls wanted him, and he was sooooo incredibly fine. It's not that you don’t like yourself; it was just rare seeing him around girls like you that made you feel like getting his attention was impossible but, you always had his attention you just never noticed it. You decided to stop zoning out overthinking and started doing your work occupying yourself. You nod your head to WUSYUNAME by Tyler the Creator finishing your work just in time class was over. You see everyone else packing their things and you do the same leaving the classroom, you see your friends huddled by your locker.
“HEYYY Y/N” your friend Ocean yells out, you take one of your airpods out waving at her walking up to her and your other friend.
“Hey girlies” You said with a smile
“Girl how's it going with you know who?” Your other friend Aaliyah asks
“Horrible, well not really I was staring at him and he grinned at me so you can say it's over” You huff covering your face.
“I meannnn him grinning at you is amazing he noticed you babes” Ocean stated rubbing Y/N’s back
“Yeah it's better than him screwing his face up”. Aaliyah adds while you were putting your things in your locker.
“Yeah lets just get to math before Ms.Nelson gets on our ass and she gets mad yelling at us” You stated with a laugh closing your locker walking to class.
“Oh yeah she might call my mom again on her bullshit” Ocean huffs
“Nah we need to find her a good wig she’ll be nice to us for a good 2 weeks”. Aaliyah announces.
“No fr and set her ass up on a date she needs some dick” You chimed in laughing your ass off.
“YOO yall evil for this shit she needs more like locs she can’t keep that wig shit too high maintenance for her ''. Ocean replies, it was all laughs walking to class until you bump into someone
BOOM!
Your books and their books drop on the floor and you’re incredibly embarrassed scrambling to pick your things up, trying not to crease your Jordans.
“I'm so so sorry” You say picking up their books and yours.
“No it's ok…you don’t have to pick my books up after all I bumped into you” They say catching you off guard recognizing the voice. He bends down helping you pick up the books.
“No I bumped into you it's my fault i'm sorry” Y/N apologies once again
“Stop apologizing, it's okay mamita I just need to watch where I'm going next time”. They say helping you up, the way that ‘mamita’ rolled off their tongue had you weak in the knees.
“Im Miles” He says, giving you a smile, handing you your books.
#astv fanfic#astv fluff#astv fic#astv miles#miles x reader#miles 42 x reader#42 miles morales#earth 42 miles morales x reader#miles 42#chubby!reader#earth 42 miles x reader#hobi x reader#hobie x y/n#1610 miles x reader#black reader#plus size reader#1610 miles morales#spiderverse x reader#spider man: across the spider verse#earth 42 miles x you#miles fluff#miles42xplussizereader#miles42xreader#miles42xblackreader
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call it what you want pt8.
matt sturniolo x fem reader
an: yall my taglist is not working. trust me i have tried to tag you guys it just won’t let me 💔
“well this is a sight for sore eyes”.
you had never moved so fast in your life, you launched yourself off of matts lap, scurrying to your feet, turning to face the voice.
“mom, what are you doing here?” you asked out of breath.
“i could ask you the same thing. what are YOU doing here? in the boys locker room, with him?” she said, folding her arms, raising her eyebrows, and pursing her lips, staring straight at your red face.
“we were just-“ you began before matt, stood up cutting you off.
“mrs kats, i’m matt sturniolo” he said, jabbing his hand out for her to shake.
she didn’t even flinch, she just looked down at his hand in disgust, before bringing her eyes back up to his in a jagged stare.
“i know who you are, and i know what you are, and from what i can see you’ve already made your mark on my daughter” she spat.
“mom” you muttered, as a warning for her to stop.
“what? i’m not the one getting into fights, i’m not the one sticking my tongue down someone’s throat in the boys locker room, while that poor girl nurses a broken nose” she said, raising her voice slightly.
she was pissed.
she stared at you for a second, and when you gave in and looked to the floor, swallowing, she moved her gaze over to matt, letting her eyes linger on his for a second before speaking.
out of the corner of your eye, you watched him squirm under her cold regard.
“and as for you, i suggest you stay as far away from my daughter as you possibly can, or i will have your whole world come crashing down and you will land straight on your ass” she sneered at him. her voice was low and intimidating.
any normal person would’ve crumbled under this type of hounding, but whatever voice spoke inside of matt sturniolo’s head, was a fucking menace.
there was a brief pause, both of them just staring at each other, and when you finally looked up, you wished you could’ve took a photo.
your mother stood in front of matt, face hard, with her arms crossed, looking like she was about to ring his neck, and the devil child of matt sturniolo stood with his hands behind his back, looking calm and collected, with that shit eating smirk on his face that made your knees a little weak.
you weren’t sure how much longer this stand off was going to carry on for, but the anticipation was eating you alive.
suddenly, matt sucked in a breath, turning away from your mother, and sauntering over to you before placing a kiss on your temple and speaking up.
“i’ll meet you in the car baby” he cooed.
lord have mercy.
-
“and i don’t know how she didn’t drag me home by my hair, she just let me go!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands up in the air and dropping them back down.
“she didn’t even try to stop you?” nick asked, quirking his brow.
“i mean yeah but she didn’t put up much of a fight, she just told me i shouldn’t go, and that he’s a bad influence and shit” you replied, pulling your knees up to your chest.
“same old story” chris added, not taking his eyes off of his phone.
somehow, you had ended up at the triplets house, without your mother starting ww3. you hadn’t heard a word, from your dad or caden, and it was a little more concerning than you would like to admit.
the 4 of you were in the living room, chris slumped on the couch, playing some game, you and nick sitting on the floor, and matt on the other couch, mindlessly scrolling through his phone, not even paying attention to the conversation.
neither of you had spoken to each other since the locker room incident. he hadn’t even looked at you.
it was so confusing, because every time you felt like the two of you were getting somewhere, matt would push you back out again.
in a weird way, it was a comforting atmosphere. chris and nick didn’t know, and neither you or matt were prepared to mention it, and realistically, it was better that way.
talking about it would solve nothing. both of you would still hate each other, and you would both still regret it. so what was the point.
-
3:46am
this is exhausting. tossing and turning. you just couldn’t fall asleep. the whole day had been playing on your mind. you couldn’t wrap your head around how so much had happened in such a short amount of time.
nick lay next to you dead asleep, chris and matt upstairs in their own rooms. maybe if you just tried to talk to matt, you would stop thinking about it.
imessage
y/n: are you awake?
matt: what do you want.
y/n: can we talk?
matt: sure.
you found yourself outside his bedroom door, too nervous to go in. why? this needed to be done. you were confused and the two of you were just going in swings and roundabouts.
“are you gonna come in or just stand there like a creep?”
fuck.
you pushed the door open, to be met with matt sitting on his bed, with his phone in his hand. this was awkward. you’d never been in his room before, despite knowing him for 10 years. you never had any reason to.
you padded over to him and took a seat on the side of his bed, next to his legs. you sat silent for a second, looking at him and waiting for him to acknowledge you. he sighed and threw his phone down before meeting your eyes.
“um…i wanted to talk about what happened earlier” you spoke, voice shaky.
he just blinked at you, waiting for you to continue.
you sucked in a breath before just accepting defeat.
“i don’t know what’s going on matt. you treat me like shit and act like you hate me, and then you kiss me? you stood up against elijah, but you’re still so cold towards me? what does this mean?” you frowned at him.
he chewed on his lip for a second, dropping his gaze to his hands in his lap.
the truth was, matt didn’t know what was going on either. he was just as confused as you were and it had completely knocked the wind out of him.
“i just kissed you. it meant nothing. you’re thinking way too deep into it. i figured someone would walk in so that’s why i did it” he shrugged. looking at you with no emotion behind his eyes, and it made your heart ache a little.
“but the whole elijah thing…” you trailed off. “i want to be with him, matt, you can’t kiss me and then pretend like it was nothing.”
“that was just to keep up the act y/n. you’re getting ahead of yourself like you always fucking do” he spat. his voice firm.
you dropped your eyes to your feet, as he stood up, walking over to his desk and messing with something.
“you can’t just kiss me matt, it’s not fair” you whispered, still not looking at him.
he scoffed. “why y/n? because you’re scared of finally getting over him?” you snapped your head up to meet his face, his eyebrows raised in question.
“what are you talking about?” you asked, confused expression on your face.
he turned to face you, looking down like he had the upper hand. he shoved his hands in his pockets before taking a breath in.
“don’t try to act dumb y/n. you crave whatever fucking havoc he brings you. and that is the whole reason you want to be back with him” his voice was quiet but harsh.
“what are you saying matt?” you just simply couldn’t understand why he was talking about this. matt kissed you and that was your concern, not what elijah brought to the table.
“you are too fucking weak to walk away from him. you don’t see what he does, but everyone else around you is laughing it up, watching you fall at his fucking feet. he’ll call you mean names, cheat on you, lie to you, humiliate you, then he will wrap you up, tell you he loves you, let you cry in his arms for his behaviour, and you will believe it. just like the 200 fucking times you have before. but it’s okay right? because his presence is the cure to all the damage he’s done” he spat. he was now in your face, seething.
tears brimmed your waterline. the heavy weight of his words, pressed on your chest. partially because it was true. partially because of the fact it was so obvious what he had done to you.
this was not matts call to make. he had no business knowing this and it was definitely not his place to make you feel like this, because out of all the things elijah has done, he has never been as fucking vile as matthew sturniolo.
“yeah that’s right, you’ll cry, and you’ll say ‘you’re right’ and everyone will feel bad for you, and then in a months time when elijah has you under whatever fucking spell it is that makes you fucking swoon, you’ll go back to him, because whatever damage he has done is so deep rooted and rotten inside of you, it is permanent and you will never get rid of it, no matter how had you fucking try.” matt hissed. his words were dripping with venom, and every single one had poked a hole in the small part of you that still had hope for matt being anything less than the most vile human being to ever walk the earth.
the tears were now full force streaming down your face, as you stared at him with wide eyes, desperately trying to process where this was coming from.
matt almost laughed at your state. his face was cold and switched off and the look behind his eyes was nothing but complete loathing.
you couldn’t even string together a sentence, you just sat there weeping like a wounded dog, trying to fathom how someone who never even gave you the time of day, had you all figured out.
the sound of you sobbing, changed something in matt, and it was like he had suddenly snapped out of this evil trance. his face fell, and his chest ached.
he knew it wasn’t your fault. it was familiarity, consistency. elijah was a fucking disease that you couldn’t fight off no matter how hard you tried.
matt breathed and took a step closer to you, placing a hand on the side of your head. “y/n”. he whispered, in a sad tone.
you shoved him off and stood up abruptly, wiping your face. you wasn’t going to let him pull you back in.
“no matt, you got your point across” you spoke with a shakey voice, putting distance between the two of you. he just stared at you with furrowed brows. before reaching a hand out to grab your arm gently, but you pulled away before he even got the chance, and walked out of his room, slamming the door behind you.
he was on your tail instantly, following you down the hallway.
“y/n wait”
no reply.
“i’m sorry, please just stop”
no reply.
“will you fucking stop!” he yelled. reaching out and grabbing your arm just before you got to the stairs.
when you turned around, he almost fell to his knees and begged for forgiveness when he saw you.
your eyes were glossy and red, and your nose and cheeks were pink, and stained with tear lines.
he did this to you.
“what matt? you got a few more in you, go ahead i’m all ears” you yelled back, with a broken voice.
he sighed and shook his head.
“i’m sorry” he whispered. you just laughed sadly and looked up at the ceiling. he wasn’t sorry.
“i didn’t mean what i said” he swallowed.
“oh i think you meant every fucking word so don’t try and lie to me” you spat through clenched teeth.
he just stared at you wide eyed, trying to think of some way he could make this better.
matt wasn’t lying. he was disgusted with what he has said. it was just one of those moments where angry people say mean things.
he watched as your face contoured. brows furrowed. pursed lips. eyes pinched. desperate to hold in any more tears that so dangerously threatened to spil.
you scoffed in his face, and turned, bolting down the stairs and as far away from matt as you could get, he didn’t even try to stop you. he just stood staring at the spot where you used to be.
and suddenly he realised, you would never truly heal. the pain would eventually be gone but the heart shaped scars elijah left behind would never fade.
——————————————————————————
LMAOOO SORRY YALL. 😛
fat ass taglist: @christinarowie332 @biimpanicking @sturnssan @biplrbtch @valerieburkens @ukyos ios @eyelessdemon00 on @iheart2021chris @hearts4chriss s @leah-loves-lilies ves-lillies @whicked-hazlatwhore whore @lexihpwardsgf @1201pm-blog @chrislover911 @yourmom-123456789 @x4nd3rsukz @ilovechrissturnioloposts @mattnchrisworld d @leoloveeeee e @jazab3lla @martyniukpl l @sturnbaby @knowingnothingnoel @ilovemattstromboli @obsessedwithyou @dragonstoneshortcake @skyteller143 eloveschris s @biinthisbitch13 @skyteller143 @innocentfsin n @mattswifue @thatcrazybitch-69 9 @ihateeveryone357474 @shmophsturniolo @sturns-posts @mattsturnzzz09 9 @sturnisposts s @jenna0rtegaswife e @jeffbuckleylvr27 7 @katelynmeier14 @sara2233445 5 @alexb25598 @sturniolos4lifee @st7rnioloss @kasiaslayuje @causeidontlikegolsrush @cosmicmistake42069 @xxloveralways14 @24kmar @creamoncreamoncream2 @kennyhop @khloe7233 @sofiasnookiee @sfdfgy @ikeryn n @sleepdeprivedandinsane @quinnroki @lvr444life @ffhgdxgg @travelintheworld 2 @aubreyswift13 13 @sturniololol l @starziick k @heartlesssturniolos @nickmillersn1gf @beautyb1ade @tommysaxes @milenchen08 @sstvrnioloo o @flowerneomie
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Sometimes, I forget how good of a photographer I am.
I'm doing sports candids at a high school. School is in the middle of nowhere. There is no cell reception. Its homecoming. Theres a million cameras.
Its middle of the second period and I see a professional looking photographer struggling with her camera. There are two dudes nearby also struggling, same uniform. But I know that look of desperation because I've been there. Guy 1 is fussing with video camera. Guy 2 is on the phone, but like I said- theres no cell service here.
"Are you having trouble?"
"Oh my god, do you know cameras?"
"Take a picture, show me what it looks like."
She takes a picture, shows it to me. Its blown out and blurry.
"It has to be on the sports setting because I'm shooting sports. But I cant get it to work right. This thing is old and busted."
"Shutter speed too low, looks like 1/60."
"What?"
"Can I fiddle with it?"
Mind you, theres a whole football game happening in front of us. The videographer and the guy on the phone are watching me very closely.
It's a different camera than mine, but it's the same brand.
"I'm putting you on manual, but you have to trust me."
"I... dont have a choice. Everything is malfunctioning."
I put it on manual, fast shutter speed, high ISO. Take a shot, dont like it, fiddle with it again. Take a shot, hand it back.
"Try it."
She takes a shot. "Its a little blurry."
"Bump up the shutter speed to 1/300. It will be darker, so the ISO goes up, too."
She does this. "Holy shit, I've never taken photos like this before! These are better than anything I've ever done! Thank you! You just saved all our asses."
"Congrats, you're now shooting in manual- you have full control of how light enters the sensor in your camera. And that makes you a pro."
She starts catching back up with photos. Her dudes come over to me and say "seriously, from the bottom of our hearts, thank you so so much. Our video equipment went down and we can't get ahold if anyone."
"No problem. But out of curiosity, who are yall with?"
They give the name of the news section that covers local sports.
I just taught a photojournalist manual mode in less than a minute.
...I'm pretty sure they just give a camera to whoever is on staff and dont tell them how to work it.
That's frustrating to me.
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Let Me Hear You Scream
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader
Warnings: SMUT AHEAD! 18+ ONLY! MINORS DNI! language, threatening situations, DUB CON, horror elements
Word count: 3.8k
Summary: It’s the 90s so you actually answer the phone when you’re watching movies
a/n: Happy Halloween yall!!!! Still working on other projects but really wanted to get something out for Halloween! This was for @witchywithwhiskey’s Horror Movie Hoe-a-thon! the prompts I picked were Scream and “I’m your boyfriend now” Hope you all enjoy!!!! Thanks for reading, I’d love your feedback! Reblogs and comments are love <3
1993. A sleepy suburban town, where nothing exciting ever happens. Friday night.
Your friends were all going out to Wanda’s party, but you were stuck housesitting for your aunt. Your mom had promised you would house sit weeks ago, so you couldn’t get off the hook. It was a big empty house, more rooms than your aunt could ever need. Most were filled up with storage and dust bunnies.
You tried to make the best of the boring night-in. You rented some Meg Ryan movies with plans to completely veg out. You ordered an extra large pizza with all of your favorite toppings and raided your aunts pantry for snacks.
You glanced down at your shirt and saw red. Pizza sauce! Blooming red circle right in the center of your cream sweater. You let out a huff of frustration. Some Friday night.
You changed into comfy nightwear--a baby blue cotton gown that brushed the very top of your knees, along with a pair of fluffy bunny slippers for good measure. You settled back down in front of the TV.
RING. RING. RING.
You picked up the phone, squeezing it between your ear and shoulder as you carried your snacks over to the kitchen.
“Hello,” you used your best fake customer service voice. Your aunt had asked you to take down any messages. She must have a new boyfriend she was hoping would call. You wait for a response but all you can hear is low breaths through the receiver. “Hello?” You try again
“Is this Sidney?” The voice was weirdly distorted and hard to place. It was deep, clearly a man’s voice.
“Sorry, wrong number dude.” You hung up before he could let another word out. You set the phone down by the cradle and go back to making your snacks. You got out the big popcorn bowl.
The phone rang out again. “Hello?” You answered. You really hadn’t expected to be fielding this many phone calls.
“Hey. Did I call you earlier?” It was the same strange voice. You blew some air through your lips, how annoying.
“Sidney’s not here. Have a good night--”
“Aw man. She must have given me a fake number. I don’t mean to bother you over and over tonight.” He sighed, sounding very apologetic.
“No worries. Have a good night.”
“Wait, wait. I like the sound of your voice.”
You paused. Was it totally weird to just chat with this guy? Yeah. But what harm could it be? You felt a bit of a flutter in your stomach. You never had talked to a stranger over the phone like this. It felt clandestine! You decided to go with it.
“Better than Sidney’s?” You asked, trying to make your voice sound as flirty as possible. You heard him hum approval.
“Much better than…let’s not talk about her. What are you doing tonight?” There was something very familiar about his voice. There was a crackle and static that made it so you couldn’t quite make it out. It must be a shitty connection.
“I was having a movie night. I’m making some snacks right now.” You started to curl the phone cord around your finger.
“What are you watching, Pumpkin? Something scary?”
“No way. I hate scary movies.”
“Especially not when you’re alone right?”
“Uh - um - I’m not alone. Actually.” You lied. How did he know you were alone? Was he just guessing?
“Scary movies are always scarier when you’re all alone, in a big empty house, that’s in the middle of nowhere,” he continued.
A shiver went down your spine. That was a bit too accurate. But there's no way he could possibly know where you were. It was a phone call!
“I just don’t like them. It's either some creepy slasher stabbing some big boobed blonde through her white t-shirt or a ghost that's a metaphor for trauma. No thank you,” you sighed.
“I think you’re being a little hard on them. Maybe if you watched them with a guy to cling to you’d like them more. Do you have a boyfriend?”
There it was. Obviously the alone comment was him trying to set the mood.
“Why do you want to know? Already over Sidney?” You teased him.
“Answer the question.” He was very serious. You didn’t like the tone he had.
“Yes, I do. Are you going to hang up?” You lied again, trying to call his bluff.
“You don’t have a boyfriend. What are you wearing? Something cute and virginal? What about your underwear?” You pulled the phone away from your ear in shock. You were officially too skeeved out. This wasn’t some poor guy who got slipped a fake number. He was a weirdo!
“Ok perv, I’m over this. Bye.”
“I wouldn’t hang up Y/N.” His voice was suddenly hostile. He spat each syllable out filled with hatred. Your blood ran cold. Your heart started to race. How would he possibly know your name?
“Is this a prank? Not very funny. Is this you Tony?” Your voice shook with fear.
“Who’s Tony? That your boyfriend?” He snarled.
“This is a really bad joke. Did someone put you up to this? Scott? Knock it off now!”
“Jesus you’ve got a lot of men in your life. Are you trying to make me jealous or something? I don’t like sharing.”
“I’m serious, this is a bad joke, so just give it up already.” You cried out, you looked around, making sure you were still totally alone.
“I don’t give up so easily. Do you, Pumpkin? Do you give it up to any guy who looks in your direction? I bet you do, you slut. That's why you're talking to a guy you don’t know while you’re all alone.”
“I’m hanging up, I already told you I’m not alone. My boyfriend is here! He’s big and he plays football. S-so don’t call back ok?” You tried to sound as forceful as possible but your lips wobbled and you tripped over your words.
“Pumpkin, you’re lying to me. You’re all alone in that big house in the middle of nowhere, wearing that skanky nightgown. I can see your nipples poking through this whole time. You’re so turned on by a psycho on the phone, huh?”
You let out a scream. You slammed the phone down, hanging it up. You started to spin a circle looking at all the windows, trying to see if you could see somebody watching you. You ran to the front door to make sure they were locked. You went window by window locking them and shutting the curtains. You took a chair from the kitchen and dragged it in front of the door, jamming it beneath the door knob.
RING RING RING RING
You looked around, trying to remember where all of the doors were in the house. You spun around running to the kitchen entrance. You double checked the lock and put the chain on the door. You slid down the door with your back pressing against it trying to catch your breath.
This wasn’t real. This had to be some fucked up prank. The guys were all too hyped up for Halloween and wanted to get a scare out of you. The ringing stopped and you heard the voicemail click, your aunt's outgoing message began to play.
“You screening your calls, skank? You’re gonna die, you little whore! I’m gonna see what your insides look like --” You picked up the phone just to end the message and slammed it back down. As you scampered away it fell down, swinging from the cord. You take off up the stairs, stumbling up the stairs.
You dash into the guest room you had been staying in. You quickly locked the door. Your hands were shaking still. How was this happening?
The window started to jiggle. You could hear the groaning old wood start to slide. With nothing better to arm yourself with you grabbed a pillow and started to wildly smack the intruder with all you could.
“Whoa whoa whoa, it’s me -- it’s me!” Bucky Barnes, your classmate, was gripping the window sill, flabbergasted from the pillow. You hadn’t even had time to register who it was before you attacked.
“Bucky? What the fuck are you doing here?” You demanded. This proved to you it had to be some kind of a prank. Why else would Bucky Barnes, the moody guy from your film class be climbing up to your room.
“Well, when you said you were busy tonight I thought I could just surprise you? Like a grand romantic gesture or something? Can you um, let me in? It's actually kind of cold.” He was shivering out there. He looked so earnest it tugged on your heart just a bit.
You motioned for him to come in. He heaved his body up, awkwardly crawling through the tight window then falling to the ground. He sprang back up quickly, smiling at you.
“Is this a prank? Are you in on this with the other guys or something?” You crossed your arms.
“Um, other guys? Are there other guys here? I thought I was being original.” He peered around you as if to look for them. You rolled your eyes.
“The phone calls Bucky. I’m not joking around.”
“What phone calls? I’ve been driving all night to get here from campus, then shimmying up some ivy. Haven’t exactly had any time to stop at a payphone. You know what. This was a bad idea, I can see that, I’ll just leave.” He sheepishly put his hands in his pockets as he crouched down to leave the way he came.
“No, no wait!” You grabbed him, keeping him from going outside. If it wasn’t Bucky then there was still a psycho out there! “I don’t know what's going on, but this weird guy kept calling me, and he was watching me! Like I think he was outside the house or something.”
“Calm down, calm down. I was just outside. There's nobody out there. It was probably just a prank call.”
He started to rub your back with slow soothing circles. It was intimate in a way you weren’t used to from Bucky. He was the quiet one, never really hung out unless Steve was around. His palm pressed into your lower back, holding you closer to him. His other hand cupped the back of your head, guiding you into the crook of his neck.
“You’re getting so worked up. Maybe you should just lie down.” He shushed you as you tried desperately to explain it wasn’t a prank call. He guided the two of you down to the bed. He laid down next to you.
“Bucky…why are you here?”
“I wanted to see you, I thought you knew…isn’t it obvious how I feel about you?”
Your head was spinning. Bucky liked you? He barely even talked to you! When he casually asked if you were going to Wanda’s party you assumed it was just small talk. He had grunted and left the second you told him you were busy.
“I think I should call the cops about this--”
“I’m here aren’t I? I’ll keep you safe.” His lips connected with yours silencing you from responding. His kiss was eager, but still so gentle. He slowly moved his lips against yours, basking in the taste of you. He took his time and slowly you could feel his tongue ghosts against your bottom lip, looking for entrance.
Maybe it was the adrenaline, the shock, or maybe Bucky was just an extremely good kisser, but you quickly fell under the spell of the kiss. You let yourself get lost kissing him, trying to forget the phone call prankster that had been terrorizing you.
Fear was still racking through your body, but Bucky felt safe. You tangled your hands in his hair bringing him closer. His hand slowly traced up and down your leg. Both his hands grasped your legs, essentially pinning you down. You felt a cool air waft over your thighs as his fingers gently crept beneath your nightgown.
He cupped you over your underwear, grabbing the elastic and letting it snap back against your skin. You finally broke free of the kiss to gasp. He sat back on his ankles, his hand still toying with your panties.
“Bucky, I--”
“Shhh it's ok. I’m here to save the day. No one's gonna hurt you while I’m around.” He pushed aside your panties and started to slowly circle your clit. You whined as he circles you again and again, the pleasure rushing through you and pushing every thought of terror out of your brain.
He pressed his thumb against your clit and dipped his fingers inside of you. He curled his fingers, dragging more moans out of you. As he fucked you with his fingers, you tilted your hips up for more delicious friction.
“That's it my brave girl, Bucky’s here for you,” he murmured above you. He spoke with such hard conviction. His eyes were intensely boring into yours, nearly unblinking. He was no longer softly in the throws of passion. He was a man on a mission.
He kept pumping his fingers, he brought his other hand up from your leg to palm himself through his jeans. He groaned as he adjusted himself and went back to work on you. His other hand circling around your inner thigh, moving your leg up to his shoulder.
“Bucky, please, please,” you babbled as the pleasure began to mount and mount. It was nearly unbearable as you chased your release, grinding your hips up and down on his hand, riding his fingers towards that sweet relief.
“Yes, you’re doing so well, you’re perfect.” He brought his lips to your neck and began to suck at your sensitive spot. You let out a cry of pleasure as your climax flowed over you. You clamped your legs together, biting down on your lip as another cry came out.
You took a moment to catch your breath, Bucky was still nibbling on your neck. You grabbed his face and brought his lips back to yours. He eagerly responded, his lips enveloping yours.
You grabbed the underwear that you were still wearing and rolled it down your body to fling them off. You sat up and grabbed at Bucky until you found his belt. You fumbled, trying to unbuckle it. Bucky's hands quickly found yours and he brought them together, kissing both your palms. He unbuckled the belt on his own. Removing it without ceremony or flourish. He then yanked his jeans and underwear down.
“Are you sure about this?” He asked.
“I want you so badly, Bucky,” you moaned.
He let out a strangled gasp that turned to laughter. You tilted your head at the reaction. He didn’t sound exactly happy, it was more sinister.
“I just have waited so long to hear you say that to me. I’m so happy right now,” he nearly giggled. He giddily took off his jacket, tossing it to the ground.
“Keep me distracted Bucky, ok?” You asked as you hitch your nightgown up to your waist.
“Oh yes, anything for you, Pumpkin.” He had a devilish smirk on his face as he pressed his lips to your navel, slowly kissing his way up. He grabbed your nightgown and finished taking it off. Tossed it to the side with the pile of his clothes.
He made his way up your abdomen before groping your chest with a satisfied hiss. He squeezed you roughly, making you squeak. He latched his lips onto your breast. You let out a gasp as he lightly bit down. He tended thoroughly to each breast, his wicked tongue teasing at your pebbled nipples until you were a moaning puddle.
He grasped his cock, stroking it a few times before guiding it to your folds. He brushed the head of his cock up and down your cunt, teasing it out. He pressed his forehead against yours.
“You really mean it, right? You want me?” he asked desperately.
“Yes --” Before another word could escape your lips, he entered you. His whole body shivered. He thrust the tip of his head in, easing in and out until he was fully sheathed inside of you. You moaned as the stretch burned in pleasure and pain.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he moaned, the pace he had set was blistering. You gripped his shoulders to keep yourself anchored as he hammered into you. “You’re so tight, so tight fuuuck me.”
He thrust over and over, using the heel of his hand to keep working at your clit. You scratched your hands down his back as his pumps kept hitting the perfect spot. It was torturous pleasure as he kept working up and down your clit, not giving you a moment of respite.
You came again, your body seizing up as you cried out and then falling limp, boneless back down to the bed. Bucky grabbed your hips, pulling your lower body off the bed as he raced for his own release. The slapping sounds of your bodies filled the room along with his deep, gutural breaths.
“Yes, yes, you’re mine, you’re mine, I finally have you, finally, finally…” he babbled as he slowed his pace as he fucked out his climax.
XXX
You curled next to Bucky in the big fluffy guest bed. Both of you were happily satisfied. All thoughts of strangers on the phone were gone from your head. Now it was filled with what just happened.
Hooking up with Bucky? You’d never considered it before. You weren’t sure why, he was so very cute, you thought as you gazed at his face. His eyes were dreamily staring back at you, that big smile had not left his face yet.
“So if you want to like, hang out, I have snacks and movies. We can go curl up on the couch and just completely let our brains rot.” You traced tiny circles on his chest, feeling pretty confident he’d want to stick around.
“I’d be down for a little romcom night, as long as you’re there.” He affectionately tapped your nose.
“Good because that's all I’ve got!”
The two of you got back into a semblance of your outfits, you pulled your nightgown back on, and Bucky pulled on his boxers and the white undershirt he was wearing. You snagged his jacket and draped it over your shoulders. He hummed his approval and kissed you on the cheek.
You grabbed him by the hand and pulled him along down the stairs.
“You can go grab the popcorn, I’ll put the tapes in.” You directed Bucky towards the kitchen as you made your way towards the living room.
You pass the chairs jammed in front of the doors, and you remember your panic.
You shuddered--what a mean prank to pull. What kind of psycho talks to people like that?
You slipped your arms into Bucky's jacket to wrap yourself in it. It smelled sharp and sweet from his body wash and cologne blending together. You stuck your hands in the pockets, only to feel something heavy and tube shaped. You pulled it out, curious, turning it over in your hands a few times to investigate.
It was a long cylindrical looking microphone. You assumed it was some sort of film equipment, but why would Bucky bring that along?
“Hello?” You spoke into the mic. But instead of your own voice, the same distorted, crackling voice from the phone came out.
You dropped it. It was like a hot iron in your hand.
You realized Bucky must have heard you too. Your head snapped towards the kitchen. He was walking slowly towards you, a huge chef’s knife from the kitchen was now in his hands.
“Bucky what the hell is this?” You asked, slowly backing away from him.
“I…can explain.” His grip on the knife tightened and he raised his hands in the air as if in surender, never slowing his pace towards you.
“No, I think you need to leave.” You covered your body with your arms, trying not to trip over the furniture.
“No, no, no you’re misunderstanding --” He was getting closer to you, he reached his arms out to try and grab you.
“Leave me alone!” You screamed out as you broke into a run. You made a mad dash to the front door. Bucky was close behind you.
“I’m not going to hurt you!” He cried out as you fumbled with all the locks. Your hands were shaking, you tried to remove the chain from the door but it wasn’t moving fast enough.
Bucky's arm wrapped around your waist and yanked your body into his. His hard bulge poked at your ass.
“No!!” you cried out as you started to thrash around. You quickly stilled as the sharp point of the knife began to dig into your throat.
“Let’s calm down ok. I think you’re getting too worked up again.”
“B-Bucky, just say that it’s a prank. This was all a big prank. I won’t tell anyone. Just put the knife down please.” You try desperately to reason with him. He lets out an unamused grunt.
He began to drag you away from the door. You strained your neck as far as you could to keep the pressure from the knife as minimal as possible.
“You weren’t supposed to find out. Now it’s all ruined. Fuck. Fuuuck!” He growled. Clearly enraged he started to grapple you down to the floor.
“Why are you doing this to me?” You whimpered, tears oozing from the corners of your eyes. Rolling down your cheeks in huge streaks.
“You don’t get it. You never noticed me. All I wanted was for you to notice me. I just had to grease the wheels a little bit, put on a show to make you see…that I’m the guy for you.” He looked crazed. He moved the knife from your neck to your cheek. He caressed it against your cheeks like a lover's hand.
“Bucky please…put down the knife.”
“You’re misunderstanding me, you’re trying to run away! That’s why I have the knife because you need to listen to me. You always listen to the guy with the biggest tool in the room huh? You thought I was Tony. Does he call you up at night a lot or something? Huh?!”
You were just whimpering as he ranted above you. The blunt side of the knife was pressed against your cheek, the shiny metal reflecting into your eyes.
“Well you don’t have to worry about him anymore.” The look in Bucky’s eyes was primal, like he was no longer a man. The charming smile from before was now warped and too large, his lips curling to show his teeth and gums.
“You’re scaring me. Please don’t hurt me!”
“Hurt you? I would never.” He said, not moving the knife from your face. “I’m your boyfriend now. And I’m not going to let anything happen to you again.”
He brought the knife down from your cheek slowly, the sharp tip dragging down your neck. He began to slice the top button off your nightgown.
“Now, you made such beautiful noises for me before. Let me hear you scream, Pumpkin.”
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