#always a tire thief AU

[catastrophic-crow]

au where red hood breaks into titans tower with a tire iron to steal the tires from all of tim's motorcycles

Once a tire thief, always a tire thief.

[stiltonbasket]

the nielan twins are going out for Halloween as Merry and Pippin from LOTR? They're eating lots of snacks and getting into mischief!

Nie Yunhai wanted to be Merry, but Yunhua informed him that he had no choice but to be Pippin, since he was born a grand total of 10 minutes after she was. He sulked about this for a while, but he cheered up when Jingyi gave him a pretend-palantir to put in his candy bag.

[jeonginsleftcheek]

My favorite person

pairing: han jisung x afab!reader

genre: fluff, smut, neighbors/(fake) enemies to lovers au

word count: 6.7k

warnings: alcohol, swearing, smoking weed, cheesy flirting, handjob, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it up pls), squirting, cumshots, spanking, they're both desperate for each other and completely in love

a/n: had so much fun writing this omg! i love playful hannie sm and i hope y'all enjoy this too, consider a reblog if you did🩷

~check out my: Masterlist

It's almost midnight when Jisung's tired and aching legs slowly carry him towards his house. He has music in his ears and he's whistling lowly in the empty street.

It's still warm, the summer sun is unforgiving during the day, burning every surface up, stealing the freshness of the night.

Jisung can't wait to take all his greasy clothes off (courtesy of working in a fast food restaurant) and hop in the shower to wash the day off.

As he nears his house, he sees you sitting on your porch, wearing an oversized shirt, your hair in a messy bun, your sandals thrown aside and a can of beer in your hand.

He waves and you roll your eyes as you take another sip of your beverage.

"Came to bother me?"- you ask as he lowers his headphones to rest them around his neck.

"Ofcourse, you know that's my favorite hobby."- he smirks, leaning on the railing in front of you.

"You're blocking my view."- you lean to the left, trying to look behind him.

"Of what?"- he turns to look.

"The street."

"There's nothing on the street."- Jisung pouts.

"Still more interesting than you."- you quip.

"Wow, hostile much?"

"You know me."- you shrug with a smirk and he chuckles.

"You got another one of those?"- Jisung points at the beer in your hand.

"For you? No."- you continue smirking.

"Liar."- he smirks back at you. "I know for a fact your fridge is full of that crap."

"You know, it was nice and quiet before you came around."- you sigh.

"Well, I'm here to disrupt your peace."- he says and you groan with a smile as he sits next to you.

"You stink for real."- your face scrunches up as you scoot away from him.

"Mm, the smell of a working man."- Jisung leans towards you, draping his arm on your shoulders and you shake him off with a look of disgust.

"Ew, go shower."- you shove him away and he laughs.

"Alright I was going to anyways. I'll be done in 10."- he gets up before you can answer and you watch his silly little legs walking away from you.

Most of the time you want to smack Jisung, but sometimes he's a nice distraction from the thoughts swirling in your mind and the shitty world around you.

You don't wait for him though, throwing the empty beer can in the trash and padding back to your house. You close the door with a thud and sit in your living room, your fan is placed right in front of your face as you exhale.

"Fuck this heat."- you mutter to yourself, the sound of that annoying commercial voice from the TV blending into the background, behind the droning noise of the fan.

You almost fall asleep sitting like that but your door swings open suddenly and it jolts you awake. You don't have to look to know whose footsteps are echoing in your house.

"Finally refreshed."- it's Jisung and he grabs a beer from your fridge and then sits on your couch like it's his house.

His hair is still wet and messy, droplets of water sliding down his neck towards the white Sonic Youth shirt he's wearing.

You don't mean to stare but you do for a moment until the sound of him opening the can of beer snaps you out of your thoughts.

"That's my shirt, you thief!"- you point your finger at him and he laughs annoyingly.

"Doesn't have your name written anywhere on it."- he shrugs and you roll your eyes, smacking his arm.

"Obnoxious."- you mutter but he ignores your little quips as always.

"I'm not stinky anymore."- he smirks at you, his arm around your shoulders again and you whine, moving his arm away.

"All boys are stinky. And why are you drinking beer? I'm not gonna hold back your hair when you start puking, you lightweight."- you shove him playfully and he almost chokes on the sip he's taking.

"I'm not gonna puke, okay? I will be completely fine and sober after this."- he says matter-of-factly as he brings the can up.

"You would've been better off drinking some milk, baby."- you tease him and he chuckles.

"Baby, huh?"- he smirks, his face closer to yours.

"Yes baby, like an infant. A child. Now get out of my personal space."- you press your fingertips into his forehead and push him away.

"Damn, keep being mean to me and you won't get any of this."- Jisung waves a baggy in front of your face.

"Oh, now you're talking."- you smirk and he laughs at you.

"I'm not so stinky anymore, am I?"- he wiggles his eyebrows.

"You're still stinky."- you say, reaching for the baggy but he snatches it away.

"Give it here!"- you yell out and he giggles as he keeps moving the baggy away from you while you try to catch it.

You kneel on the couch, trying to grab it with your flailing hands but he moves his arm away again, making you lose your balance as you basically fall into his lap.

"Hello there."- Jisung smirks, his arm wrapping around your waist.

"Ew."- you scramble to get off him, crossing your arms over your chest and looking away from him.

"Okay, okay, you can roll."- he reaches the baggy towards you and you grab it but he keeps holding onto it.

"Jisung."- you warn.

"Give me a kiss and I'll give you the baggy."

"Quit blackmailing me with kisses. Never gonna happen."- you say as he chuckles, the little bastard.

"Yeah, yeah. Anyways, here. For real now."- he gives you the baggy and you get to work.

Jisung watches you as you concentrate, your brows slightly furrowed and your tongue poking out between your lips.

He licks his lips unconsciously, thoughts of tasting you have been on his mind ever since he first saw you when he moved next door.

You were a mess back then and sometimes you still are but Jisung loves the mess you are, he loves that you don't try to pretend to be okay when you're not, he loves that you don't take anyone's shit and always fight for yourself, he loves the fact that you're just so unapologetically yourself that you don't mind crying in front of him.

"Earth to stinky. Give me your lighter."- your voice breaks his daydreaming and he rolls his eyes playfully at the nickname before handing you the lighter.

The first two inhales already make you a little floaty, waves of relaxation slowly traveling through your body. Just what you needed after the day you had.

Your music plays in the background, the shared playlist Jisung and you have on spotify. The two of you are sprawled on the couch in front of your fan, the smoke from the blunt swirling in different patterns as Jisung drapes his leg over your lap.

"You wanna do shotgun?"- he asks, looking at you with his eyelids droopy and eyes red and you mirror his expression.

"It's gonna have to be a no."- you say with a snicker.

"Whyyyy?"- he whines, bringing his other leg up to rest it on your lap too.

"Because I know it's another one of your ways to try and kiss me."- you say with a dopey smile, your mind floaty and cloudy as you stare at Jisung's face, a goofy smile on his lips, his puffy cheeks looking extra squishy. You want to bite him.

"You're not getting in my pants."- you add and he laughs at you.

"We'll see about that."- he wiggles his eyebrows and the expression on his face just makes you laugh.

It's dumb but both of you have a fit of laughter and you forget all your worries, and Jisung scoots closer to you, he leans his head on your shoulder and plays with your fingers.

You want to protest and tell him to get his stinky self away from you but the weight of his legs on you and the way he gently touches your hand coupled with the effects of the weed bring you closer to the sleep you so badly crave.

-

"Ouch."- is the first thing that comes out of your mouth the next morning, the sunlight blinding you as soon as you open your eyes.

You feel dehydrated, sweaty and disoriented as you blink slowly, squinting your eyes as you look around. Somehow you ended up in your room, and judging by the snoring and the warm body attached to you, it was probably Jisung's doing.

You groan and try to escape his grasp but he wrapped both his arms and legs around you, clinging onto you like he never wants to let go.

You pinch his arm slightly and he stirs awake.

"What'd you do that for?"- his voice is deep and laced with sleep.

"Don't you have your own house?"- you ask.

"I like yours better."- he mutters, nuzzling into your neck. Goosebumps rise on your skin as he tightens his hold around you, his breath constantly tickling your skin.

"You're a pest."- you chuckle, wiggling away from him but you can't move at all.

"A pest who washes your dishes and brings you food. Hm, maybe you should consider being nice to me."- he lifts his upper body suddenly, staring down at you and you turn in his arms and look up at him.

You hate that your heart skips a beat when you see him first thing in the morning, his hair a mess of curls, eyes laced with sleep, his cute puffy cheeks and pouty lips, the shirt he stole from you messed up from sleeping, sliding down and revealing his skin.

"Get out of my bed."- you groan, wanting to run away far from him so you don't keep having these thoughts.

"That's not what you were saying last night."- he smirks.

"W-what do you mean?"- you stutter.

"Well, last night you were literally falling asleep on the couch and I asked if you want me to carry you to bed. You said yes so I did."- he keeps smirking. "And I was actually about to leave to sleep on your couch but you pulled me down and told me to stay here."

"Ugh. What did you put in that weed?"- your face is scrunched up as you finally free yourself from his hold.

"A love potion."- he narrows his eyes at you.

"I'm gonna go throw up."- you get up and Jisung's laughter echoes behind you as you make your way to the bathroom.

-

Working at the convenience store had you run into all sorts of people but it seemed that today every single annoying and rude person decided to shop.

You were this close to biting someone's head off, fuming as you stomped your feet to the bus station, some angry metal songs screaming into your ears.

The bus was also especially disgusting today, the smell of it making your stomach rise contantly coupled with a creepy old man staring at you the whole time made for a horrible ride home.

You practically ran from the station to your house, barging in as you opened the door. Forgot to lock up again, you think and shrug.

You almost trip over someone's legs and you're about to scream but the owner of the legs beats you to it.

"Jisung!"- you yell out, grabbing at your chest as he looks up at you, blinking innocently as he lays next to your couch on his stomach.

"You scared me so bad!"- he says and you shove his leg with your foot. The audacity.

"I scared you? You're in my house."- you put your hands on your hips, your eyebrows raising.

"You left it unlocked like always."- he says, his hands roaming under your couch.

"What the hell are you even doing?"- you ask confusedly.

"I'm looking for my lighter from last night! It's my favorite and I couldn't find it anywhere this morning so it has to be here somewhere."- he explains as he continues looking.

"We'll find it, no need to cry."- you chuckle, teasing him.

"I'm not crying. Yet."- he jokes and you laugh as he stands up, brushing off his pants.

"Oh, you look like shit."- he says as he finally looks at you closely.

"Wow, thanks."- you smack his arm and he squeals dramatically, grabbing at it.

"Sorry, I meant you look like you've had a bad day."- he says.

"I'm still having it."

"Not even my cute face makes it better?"- he pouts at you, batting his eyelashes.

"That makes it even worse."- you say, making a disgusted face. "Go to work Jisung and stop bothering me, I need to have the afternoon to myself."- you add, whining.

"So that means I'll come back after my shift."- he smirks.

"Only if you shower first."- you joke and he chuckles.

"Ofcourse. Now come here and let me give you a hug, you need one."- Jisung opens his arms.

"I really don't."- you shake your head at him.

"Yes, you really do."

"If you hug me I'll smack you!"

"Is that a promise?"- he smirks and you give in with a groan and let him wrap his arms around you.

You can truly never win, you always end up giving into his hugs and cuddles, knowing somewhere in the back of your mind that you crave to be close to him.

-

You had the whole afternoon planned out, cleaning up, doing some self care, taking a nap and then cooking dinner.

You ended up feeling sad and deflated, so you just stood under the shower, hoping that the water will somehow wash out the shitty day you had.

Fatigue got the better of you and you ended up falling asleep on your couch.

You stir awake, hearing the rustling of plastic bags and then a thud followed by Jisung cursing under his breath.

You lift your head up, squinting at him as he slowly walks towards you.

"Oh hey, did I wake you up?"- he asks gently.

"Yeah, kinda."- you say, feeling dizzy from the heat as you slowly sit up, wondering what day it is.

"I'm sorry."- he says as he puts the bags down.

"I hope this makes up for it. I brought you your favorite from work and I put extra love in it."- he smiles cutely and you really want to smack him in that moment, but in a good way.

"I'll think about forgiving you."- you tease and he chuckles.

"I'm gonna go shower and then I'll come hang with you."- he says.

"You mean annoy me?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say."- he smirks.

You open up the bags and dig in immediately, your stomach growling at the sight of food.

Jisung comes back some 15 minutes later, practically skipping to you and throwing himself on the couch next to you, making you bounce a little.

"I left you some fries."- you say as you sip on your Coke.

"No, no, eat it all. I already ate at work."- he quickly shakes his head.

"Okay, don't need to tell me twice."- you start eating again and Jisung smiles at you adoringly.

"You won't believe the day I had."- he says when he snaps out of his trance.

"Tell me about it, I was this close to murdering someone."- you grumble.

"This woman came in and she returned her order 3 times, telling us it's not what she ordered when we clearly heard her say the order. Like we're some kind of five star restaurant not a freaking burger joint."

"Did she ask to talk to the manager?"- you snicker as you finish eating and lean back.

"Ofcourse she did, fucking Karen."- Jisung rolls his eyes and you laugh.

"The amount of those I had in the shop today. Not people making a fuss over yoghurt and milk, like I can't deal with them anymore. They wanna make petty drama where there is none. I wish I could just take a vacation away from everything."- you sigh and Jisung scoots closer to you, turning his body towards yours.

"Me too. I need a break."- he says and you turn to look at him, your heart skipping a beat when you realize how close his face is to yours.

"Let's run away."- he says suddenly and you laugh.

"We don't have any money to do that."- you say as you both lean on the headrest of your couch.

"We'll find a way. We can... juggle! Or sing on the street! Or you can read tarot cards!"- he flails his arms and you laugh, your giggles making Jisung's stomach swarm with butterflies.

"Keep pulling suggestions out of your ass."- you shake your head and he chuckles. "It's entertaining."

"But I'm for real. I would run away with you any time you asked. Like I'd pack my bags right now if you just said the word."- he says, his hand somehow finding yours.

"Where would we go?"- you ask, your fingers slotting between his.

"Anywhere we want. We would never stay in one place, we'd always look for new adventures. It would be me and you against the world."- he smiles, his boba eyes shiny as he looks at you.

"That sounds so nice."- your eyes fall to his lips. He's so close and it's so tempting but something inside you never lets you close that gap, mentally or physically.

Jisung's cheeks heat up as he catches you staring at his lips.

"But, it's just a fantasy."- you move away suddenly. "Real life is not like that. Real life is rude customers, exploitative bosses, barely making ends meet and this stupid heat that's making me feel even more disgusting."

"Way to bring the mood down."- Jisung snickers, squeezing your hand.

"You know me, y/n the party pooper."- you chuckle and he laughs.

"Oh but the party didn't even start yet!"- Jisung smirks and grabs the remote, turning the channels until he finds the commercial one, you always watch it together after midnight if you can't sleep, laughing at stupid stuff people sell.

"Oh my god!"- you chuckle. "This requires beer."

You go to get up but Jisung stops you.

"Let me."

"Damn, is Han Jisung actually a gentleman?"- you tease, wiggling your eyebrows.

"I'll have you know that I'm a perfect gentleman."

"Mhm, right. I'll see about that."- you say as he brings two cans of beer.

"Yes you will."- he smirks, sitting down next to you.

Someone is selling a gilded statue of a peacock, complete with different colored jewels all over it.

"So kitschy. Like who'd want that staring at them at their house? My eyes would hurt."- you say with disgust on your face.

"It would be funny to get it though."- Jisung says and you laugh.

"They still didn't reveal the price. How much do you think it costs?"- you ask as the woman on the tv describes the kitschy statue and the materials it's made of.

"Why don't you take a guess? If you guess right, I'll do anything you ask of me and if you're way off you have to kiss me."- Jisung smirks and you smack his thigh.

"Again with the kissing! Fine! Let's do it. I guess 200 dollars."- you say annoyed and he laughs at you as he rubs his thigh.

"Alright, I guess 300 dollars."- he says.

You wait for the reveal in anticipation, and when the woman says 350 dollars, you freeze.

"Guess I owe you a kiss."- you sigh and turn towards Jisung.

He lookes completely and utterly bamboozled, his lips falling open as he stares at you, not blinking.

"Jisung?"- you wave a hand in front of his face.

"Right."- Jisung laughs, thinking you're joking around so he puckers his lips towards you, exaggerating for the effect, his eyes closed.

"Ji, please be normal about this."- you warn him, your hand on his and his eyes snap open.

"W-we're actually gonna kiss?! You're actually gonna kiss me?!"- he freaks out suddenly, his eyes widdened.

"A bet is a bet."- you shrug with a smirk, but on the inside you're freaking out the same way Jisung is.

"I'll take it."- he nods quickly.

"Why don't you start breathing first?"- you laugh, scooting closer to him so your knees are touching.

"Right, breathing, that's like important."- he says and takes a deep breath in as you giggle at him.

It's almost 2am and you decide to throw everything out the window as you lean in closer to Jisung's face. You can hear his breath hitch as you gently brush your lips on his.

Without any more stalling, you finally close the gap and press your lips into his. Your mind feels dizzy instantly, his lips are so soft and pliant against yours as he kisses you back eagerly.

You can feel the relief in his movements, like he was waiting for this for so long, and frankly so were you.

His hand ends up on your waist and you cup his face, some kind of hunger brewing inside you as you deepen the kiss, your tongue prying his lips open, making him moan.

His arms wrap around you as your tongues fight for dominance, making the kiss needy and messy, your teeth clashing and spit dribbling down your chin.

When you part for air both of you look dazed and Jisung squirms uncomfortably as he looks down. Your eyes follow his gaze and you chuckle at the prominent bulge in his sweatpants.

"Really, Ji? One kiss is all it takes to have you this turned on?"- you grab his thigh and he jolts, gasping as he looks up at you.

"Don't make fun of me! It's your fault anyways."

"Oh it is, hm?"- you smirk, massaging his inner thigh, making his hips lift up for some kind of friction.

"Yeah, so help me get rid of it?"- he blinks at you with those puppy eyes of his, a cute pout on his lips for added effect.

The little manipulator.

"You're a horny little boy, Ji."- you chuckle, hooking your fingers in his pants and he gasps.

"Woah, you're going straight for it?!"- he panicks.

"What, do you want me to introduce myself to it first? State my name and business?"- you snicker and he laughs, smacking your arm.

"You make me feel so self-conscious just so you know."- Jisung groans as his head falls back and he covers his eyes with his arm.

"Aw, baby is shy."- you coo and pull his pants down in one swift move.

Jisung whines as his cock smacks against his stomach and your mouth waters at the sight.

"Damn, didn't know you were packing this much."- you say, your hand instantly wrapping around his throbbing member, the pre-cum already lubing your hand up as it dribbles down.

"Ahh, don't say shit like that. I'm gonna cum."- he whimpers and you laugh as you squeeze his cock, making his hips jolt upwards into your hand.

"Already? I didn't even do anything."- you smirk, running your thumb through his slit, playing with the pre-cum oozing out of it.

"Yes you did. You're... you."- he says.

"What does that mean?"- you chuckle, playing with the sensitive underside of his head, making his cock twitch in your hold.

"Means anything you do gets me hot."- he whines.

"Oh yeah? Is that why you can't look at me, Ji?"- you tease, grabbing his arm and trying to pry it off of his face.

He just whines and doesn't budge.

"Look at me, Jisung."- you say sternly, squeezing his cock again.

"Ah, fuck!"- he whines and finally looks at you.

His face is red in arousal and embarassment and you chuckle at the state of him.

"Keep your eyes on me."- you order, moving your hand up and down.

"Oh my god, y/n."- he whimpers, instantly looking down at your hand pleasuring him.

"Eyes on me, baby."- you warn again and he looks at you quickly.

You manage to slide your tank top down and Jisung's eyes are as wide as saucers.

"I see you always staring at my breasts."- you smirk, your free hand coming up to play with your nipple. "Would you like to touch them?"

"Y-yes, yes I would!"- he whimpers as you speed up your movement on his painfully hard cock, the squelching sounds going straight to your core.

"Say please."- you smirk, leaning closer to him.

"Please! Please!"- he looks desperate as you tease him, your breasts almost on his face.

"Okay, you can touch."- you say and his hands are instantly squeezing your flesh, thumbs running over your nipples.

He looks fixated so you change up the rhythm of your hand, cupping his balls with your other hand.

"S-shit!"- Jisung moans loudly as his cock twitches hard in your hand, and he cums, ropes of white cum painting your hand and his thighs.

Both of you gasp and he whines, his hands coming up to cover his face.

"Well, that was quick."- you chuckle.

"Oh my god, that's so embarassing. Please don't laugh at me."- he mumbles behind his hands as you wipe yours clean.

"Hey, don't be embarassed."- you quickly grab his hands, moving them away from his face. "I think that was so fucking hot."

"R-really?"- he pouts.

"Well, yeah. Shows me how much you want me."- you say, your eyes full of lust.

"I do, I want you so bad. I-I can go for more rounds if you're down."- he says almost timidly and you really want to eat him up.

"Ofcourse. I hate unfinished business."- you waste no time as you take off your pants and Jisung is quick to take his shirt off.

"Stay like that. I wanna ride your pretty cock."- you narrow your eyes at him and he whimpers.

"God, please do!"- he says, his voice strained as you grab his sensitive cock.

You throw your leg over him and hover above him as you start jerking him off again.

"Touch me."- you grab his wrist and pull his hand towards your pussy, dripping with arousal and begging to be filled up.

He runs his fingers on your wet folds, rubbing your pussy and you let out a needy moan as you grind against his fingers.

"Look who else is desperate."- Jisung smirks, feeling his chest swell with pride that he's the one making you feel like this.

"Shut up and put them in."- you groan, landing a light slap on his cock and he moans loudly, pushing his fingers inside your wetness as he squirms under your touch.

"D-don't make me cum yet."- he whimpers as you keep a steady pace on his cock while he starts fucking his fingers in and out of you, matching the speed of your hand.

"Ah, Jisung!"- you whine when he hits the spot inside you, making your legs shake.

The way you moaned his name got him twitching in your hand again. He speeds up and you grab his hand suddenly, stopping him.

"I don't want to fuck around anymore. I'm gonna fuck you now."- you smirk and he gulps, pulling his fingers out of your pussy and you aim his dick towards your entrance, sliding the wet head against your warmness.

Jisung plops his fingers in his mouth sucking on them and tasting your juices and you whine at the sight, sinking on his cock at the same time.

Jisung's head falls back as he pulls his fingers out with a pop, letting out a strained moan at the feeling of your velvety walls sliding down on his hard cock.

He grips your hips as you wrap your arms around his neck and start bouncing on him fast immediately, your thighs smacking down on his, your titties bouncing in his face.

Jisung starts whining desperately, he can't wrap his head around the fact that you're fucking on him so desperately, your nails digging into his back.

"Fuck me harder!"- he whines, pushing his hips up and you whimper as you fuck on him as fast and hard as you can. He follows your pace and meets your movements with his thrusts, pushing his cock so deep inside you that the tip presses into your cervix, making you see stars.

"Ah, Ji, you feel so good!"- you moan as you grip his shoulders, the couch creaking under the two of you fucking like some kind of feral animals.

"Mm you feel so good too. So tight around me."

Jisung digs his heels into your carpet and fucks you even harder, his hand landing a smack on your ass.

"Ow!"- you whimper and Jisung apologizes immediately, caressing your ass but he felt the way your pussy clenched around him when he spanked you.

"No, it's okay. Do it again."- you groan, barely catching a breath, your thighs are burning from all the exertion but the way his cock feels inside you beats the need to give your legs a rest.

Jisung's eyes are glazed over as he smacks you hard again, your hand tangles in his hair as you moan his name loudly. He leans in and captures your nipple in his mouth, sucking on it as he grips your ass, plummeting into your clenching hole.

You feel crazy as your orgasm hits you harder than ever before and you lift off of his dick just to squirt all over him.

"Jisung!"- you whimper and then look down realizing he's cumming too, just from the sight of you squirting and you grab his cock and help him get to his high.

"Ahh, y/n..."- he keeps moaning your name as you milk him dry, sweat covering both of your bodies, the fan behind you helping you cool down as goosebumps rise on your skin.

"Fuck that was so hot."- Jisung groans as the two of you cling to each other, not caring about the stickiness.

"Mhm."- you try to breathe as you lean your forehead on his shoulder.

"Can't believe I made you squirt."- he smirks and you lift up to look at him.

"Are you hard again?"- you chuckle in disbelief as you feel him grow beneath you.

"I told you I could go for more rounds."- he wiggles his eyebrows.

"Fine, let's go upstairs."- you stand up, wobbling on your feet a little and he helps you get steady.

"Really?"- he looks up at you cutely.

"Well, I'm not sleeping tonight."- you chuckle and he giggles as he lets you pull him up.

As soon as you get to your room, both of you fall into your bed and between the mess of sheets Jisung and you spend the night indulging in each other.

"I feel disgusting."- you whine 3 more rounds later as the two of you lay on your back and try to catch some breaths.

"Hey!"- he whines, smacking your thigh lightly and you laugh.

"Not like that. I mean the heat is disgusting. This really didn't help with that."- you look at him and he chuckles.

"I'd say it was worth it."- he smiles, his eyes hopeful and sparkly.

"I agree."- you nod and Jisung lifts up to give you a gentle kiss, contrast to the hungry and passionate kisses the two of you spent the night sharing.

It's almost 6am when the two of you are done cleaning up and changing the sheets.

"Are you gonna throw me out now?"- Jisung jokes as you lay down and he sits on your bed.

"Like that would work on you."- you chuckle and he laughs as he lays down.

"You know, my shift starts in two hours."- he says as he holds your hand.

"What?!"- you gasp and flick his forehead as he whines. "Why didn't you tell me you had the morning shift, you fool?"

"Well, I didn't want to lose what might've been my only chance."- he says quietly and you lean in and bite into his bicep making him yelp.

"What's that for?"- Jisung whimpers, grabbing at his arm.

"Nothing, you're just dumb and adorable. Now go to sleep."

-

You wake up around 11, the spot beside you empty and everything floods back into your mind, you can't believe you did all that sober.

A part of you feels embarassed but you know it was bound to happen sooner or later. Deep inside, you know you cared about Jisung a lot and you hoped he felt the same.

Losing him is unimaginable and even though he annoys you, you know you enjoy him 'bothering' you every day more than you would like to admit.

You're off work today so you finally gather the strength to clean up your whole house, and when you move your couch to vacuum, you see a little shiny lighter behind it.

You chuckle as you pick it up, it's Jisung's favorite lighter, one you covered with shiny stickers and heart doodles when both of you were high. You sigh and put it aside, wondering how Jisung will act today with you after everything that happened between the two of you last night.

You take a shower and a nap, and before long it's 5pm and your door swings open.

You're in the kitchen, finishing up on dinner as Jisung strolls in with a big smile on his face.

"Hey."- you say and he laughs as he pulls you into his arms.

"I missed you all day."- he says into your hair as he holds you tight and you wrap your arms around his dainty waist.

"Oh yeah?"- you smirk.

"Mhm."- he nuzzles into you. "I know you missed me too, admit it."- he adds and you chuckle as you both lean back to look at each other.

"Yeah, sure."- you tease him.

"I was gonna text you but um... my phone fell into the hot oil in our fryer."

"Oh my god Jisung! Stuff like that only happens to you."- you laugh and he shakes his head.

"Don't mock my troubles. I have to buy a new phone now."- he pouts.

"Why were you even looking at your phone near the hot oil?"- you chuckle, turning off the stove.

"I was... looking at your pics."- he says, his puffy cheeks rosy as he looks away.

"Ofcourse you were, you stalker."- you smack his arm. "Don't act all shy now, we're way pass that."- you add and he groans.

"You ruin every cute moment on purpose."- he pouts.

"And you bother me 24/7 but you don't hear me complain."- you tease.

"You complain all the time."- he snickers and you laugh.

"You don't mind, do you?"- you ask, hating that you feel vunerable in that moment but it's Jisung, your Jisung.

"Ofcourse I don't."- he says gently, sensing the shift in the tone and he leans closer to you, cupping your face.

"Can I kiss you?"

"I think we're way pass that too."- both of you chuckle as your lips collide in a sweet, gentle kiss.

It doesn't take much time for the kiss to get heated, and for Jisung to push you against the kitchen elements.

"Woah, calm down big boy. Dinner first."- you smirk and he laughs.

"Alright, but just because you cooked. You even cleaned up, what gives? I made you so happy last night that you were on cloud 9 today?"- he teases you and you narrow your eyes at him.

"What if I was?"- you tease back, pinching his cheek and he whines, grabbing at it dramatically.

"I was too. That's why I put my phone into the fryer instead of the fries."- he confesses and you laugh loudly, grabbing at your stomach.

"Go ahead, laugh at my misery."- Jisung says, but he's smiling too.

"Sorry, that's just such a Jisung thing to do. Like somehow your lighter ending up behind the couch."- you add, pulling the lighter out of your pocket and showing it to him.

"Oh, you found it! I knew it was somewhere around here."- he smiles as he takes it from your open palm and you can't help but wonder why he loves it so much.

"Why is it your favorite?"- you ask and he looks up at you, his eyes wide before they soften.

"Remember when I got it? Both of us had a bad day and it was raining like hell. I came to you with a baggy and you rolled a perfect joint like you always do. But, we couldn't find a lighter that was working so we had to run to the gas station in the rain like two idiots. And when we came back you let me shower here and you gave me your Sonic Youth shirt, which I know is your favorite so that was a great honor to me. To get to wear your favorite shirt that smells like you. And then you decorated the lighter when we finished smoking and you gave it to me and threatened that if I ever lost it you would kick me."- he laughs and you chuckle, your face burning and heart beating fast at the way he talked about you and that evening.

Ofcourse you remember, you remember every night with him.

"That was such a y/n thing to do."- he adds and you laugh as he grabs your hand.

"I guess it was."- you squeeze his hand lightly as you stare at each other.

"I told you I'd get in your pants."- he smirks suddenly and you roll your eyes, groaning at him.

"Ruining the moment. And it wasn't me this time."- you point at him and he laughs.

"Okay, how about this for the moment?"- he swallows and leans in closer.

"I love you, y/n. And I'm in love with you. Like so desperately. I can't stop thinking about you 24/7 and my favorite parts of the day are the parts I share with you. I know I bother you a lot and cling to you but I don't know how to stop. You're my favorite person ever. You're my person."- Jisung says and you almost melt down into a puddle.

"Don't stop bothering me ever, Ji. Because I... I love you too. And you're my favorite person in the whole world too."- you confess finally, feeling like a burden was lifted off of your heart.

"Good, because you can't get rid of me that easily."- he smirks, his lips on yours.

"Mhm."- you mutter against him, wanting to throw a witty comment back at him but he kisses you with so much emotion that any word lingering on your lips dies and you kiss back, grabbing at his shirt and pulling him closer to you.

"Hope you know I'll be spending even more time at your house now."- he smirks when you pull away.

"Ugh, I might start locking my door finally."- you joke and Jisung snorts.

"You'd forget to do it after one time."

"But you'll be there to remind me?"

"Ofcourse."

And he stays with you as he promised, selling his house a few months later and moving in with you even though it seemed like he was living there already.

More than half of his stuff was already in your house so the move in was easy. He remembered the night you talked about needing a break from everything and as soon as fall brought colder weather and less customers, the two of you planned a little trip.

You always heard that it can't get more better than having that one in a million chance to love and be loved by your favorite person in the whole world.

And you have that, you think as you smile at Jisung's silly cute face, and he looks at you mirroring your smile, making you feel like you're home with him, no matter where you are.

✨Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @laylasbunbunny

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Death Wish 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you’re desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

The car ride is silent. You don’t mind. You have nothing to say. 

Your thoughts race to a fury. This is it. It’s over. You’re in trouble. Not the sort that would have you sobbing under your blankets. No, it’s the kind you don’t walk away from. 

You replay that night in your head. Why did you do it? There was nothing different about that night. Nothing excessive. No, you were just tired of it.

Maybe this is for the best. Maybe the solution isn’t getting rid of your father. Maybe it’s you. It’s always been. He always hated you. All of you. 

Shadows flow over the car like waves in the ocean. The sky dims as evening deepens around the city. The wheels roll on with the silence. Tense and wrought. Driver nor passengers make a noise. 

Rogers drives beyond the city limits. You’ve heard your father tell the stories. He laughs with his accomplices about the latest snitch or thief. They die alone and begging. 

The warehouse stands like a skeleton against the moonlit sky. The shattered windows twinkle like the stars and the desolate lot sprawls like a swathe of black satin beneath the tires. The brakes lurch you forward and you catch yourself against the seat. 

“Out.” Rogers says. 

You don’t linger. You undo your seat belt and get out. There’s someone waiting to take care of you. To end it. Your eyes fill with tears. You’re not sad for yourself, you’re sad for your sisters. They’ll miss you. You didn’t tell them you loved them. 

As you stand outside the car, Rogers drives away. You’re left alone in the midst of the cracked pavement. You hug yourself with one arm and look around.

Will it be a quick shot? Will you be tortured? You remember your dad cackling about a man who had his nails removed from his fingers and toes. 

You flinch and whimper as metals rolls on a pulley. You look over as a large door opens upwards on its gears. A dark figure stands before the low glow from within. He signals with a hand. 

You go to them. Your heart pounds as you think of running. Of racing into the nothingness of the land. You won’t fare any better. 

As you near Barnes, he watches you calmly. He doesn’t look angry. He doesn’t appear as a man about to murder you. He seems entirely unbothered by your misdeed. You went above one of his men. You showed disloyalty. The worse sin among his ilk. 

He touches your arm as if he were welcoming you into a house party, “doll.” 

You look at him in confusion. Your eyes skim away from him. There’s a sheet of plastic hung from the ceiling. Behind it, a light shines although the curtain obscures it like oil in water. There’s a chair on the other side. You notice another sheet on the floor. 

He’s silent as his hand slides down your arm. He squeezes and lets you go. He yanks the chain to lower the door. The squeak is jarring in the silence. There’s something else. Like a hiss and creak. 

You startle again as he places his hand against your lower back. He walks you forward. Your steps are rigid and clunky. He takes you closer to the plastic curtain. 

“Please, my sisters...” 

He hushes you. You sniff back your voice and your tears spill over. He leads you past the curtain. You turn to look at the chair and find more than that. A man sits, bound and gagged. Your father. 

Your heart plummets and your legs shake. Without meaning to, you lean on Barnes. He runs his hand up your back and clutches your shoulder before he draws away. He makes you stand on your own weight. 

He marches toward your father. He squirms in the chair as the boss rounds him and stands behind it. He faces you, his eyes mellow against the fraught scene he presents to you. 

“I thought on your request. I don’t often linger on things. I...” he pauses and thinks. “I make decisions. Tough ones and I make them quickly, otherwise, people get hurt.” He grips your father’s shoulders and pulls him to sit straight. The bound man grumbles and tries to thrash against the cord wrapped around him. 

“I can’t kill him for you,” Barnes declares. Another tide of confusion swells over you. Why are you here? 

Barnes steps away from the chair, his eyes pinpointed on you. He comes closer as he flips the small strap of his holster open. He slides out his pistol. You brace yourself. It’s a twisted game. 

“Doll, you don’t ask for stuff like that. That’s not how it works,” He lifts the gun, offering it with the muzzle down. “You do that shit yourself.” 

You bat away the tears as they dry up. You stare at him then look down at the gun. The silver but gleams under the glow of the hanging lightbulb above. The metal cage around it casts lines across you like a prison cell. He's dangling the key before you.

Your breath clogs in your throat. 

“I did what I could. He’s right here. You get what you want but I don’t do your dirty work, doll,” he pushes the gun toward you. “You know how to aim?” 

You shake your head and peel your dry lips apart. You look him in the face. You beg him with watery eyes. 

“I can’t-- I’m not--” 

“You came to my office and you said you want him dead. You don’t say that if you don’t mean it.” He snarls. 

“I’m sorry-” 

“Ain’t no apologies that can undo that,” he snips. “You get it?” 

Your lip trembles. You don’t know what to do. What to say. It’s you or him. You dreamed of, you wished your father dead for years, but it was never real. Barnes is right though. You don’t say it out loud. You can’t take back those words. 

“I saw what he did to you. It’s still there.” He lifts his free hand and touches the scab on your lip. “And he did the same to your sisters, didn’t he? And your ma before she died.” 

“Stop,” you beg him. 

“You got a choice. He knows what you asked for. He leaves this place and you won’t make it far,” he says. “Think about it. This is what you asked for. It’s what you didn’t say that night. If I do it, you get nothing. No closure. You been through of life of his torture. This is vendetta. He killed your ma. All those years, all those beatings...” 

“No,” you whisper. 

“No? So what happens? You go home to your sisters. I untie him. He’s not far behind. And they suffer too because he’s gonna think you worked together. Because you always do.” He says. “He won’t just get you, he’ll get them too.” 

“No,” you shove his chest without thinking as you shriek. “No!” 

He’s solid, unflinching against your force. You can tell by the grit in his jaw that he’s tolerating it for the sake of the moment. You pull your hands away and look past him. 

You stare at that man. At that monster. Your boogeyman. Your abuser. And you know that Barnes is right. Your mother died a slow death at his hands. You can’t let the same happen to you or your sisters. You prayed for a way out. This is it. One chance. 

One shot. 

“Show me,” you put your hand on the gun, teeth chattering. “I don’t know what to do...” 

He bows his head and pushes the gun against your hand. He looks down and moves your grip around it. “Like this.” He helps you grasp it and he moves around you. “Put your arms up.” He guides your arms up, “You wanna look down your arm, down the barrel.” 

You see your father at the other end of the gun. His eyes are wide and gleaming. He wriggles against the cords. He grunts around the gag. The chair does not move. He’s trapped. Just like the little girls hiding in their closet as he bangs on the outside. 

He’s scared. You’ve never seen him afraid. 

Barnes explains but you barely hear him. Your heart surges with adrenaline and you stiffen with instinct. You’re ready. You’re ready. 

“Then, you pull the trigger...” he says. 

He lets you go and backs up. You sense his shadow behind you, then it fades away with the rest of the place. It’s only you and your father. The end. 

You take a breath and move your finger to the trigger. You steady your hands as you brace the pistol with both, just like Barnes said. And you squeeze. 

The bang is deafening and the force knocks you back. Your father lurches then his head slouches to the side at an unnatural angle. You gape at the sight of the hole beneath his cheek. Your arm drops and the gun hits the floor. 

You stagger as your legs shake then fold beneath you. A new silence surrounds you in the echo of the single shot. The period at the end of the sentence. 

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

DEAR SPRING, STAY FOREVER ; SATORU GOJO, SUGURU GETO, SHOKO IEIRI

synopsis; just another mellow breakfast shared between you and your partners. (you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of them.)

word count; 3.8k

contents; sashisu/reader (poly relationship!!), gn!reader, all of u are whipped, lots of petnames, literally just breakfast fluff, it ended up kinda sugucentric on accident (not my fault btw he just really loves making breakfast for u that’s on him), also ended up kinda sappy at the end (that’s on me), implied no curses au, they’re in their twenties but it isn’t specified, everyone is eepy and in love <33

a/n; a little breakfast fic bc i love mornings and i love them :33 (tagging my beloved sashisu soldiers @catchuuu @staryukis i am making breakfast for both of u btw ☕️🥞) pls listen to spring thief by yorushika it’s the most sashisu song ever

as always, suguru is the first of you to make it into the kitchen.

he’s humming. it’s soft, a low lull of his voice, beckoning you closer like the call of a siren. sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms, fiddling with a pan, sizzling and simmering and breathing in the scent of pancakes; it pairs well with the espresso steam from the coffee pot to his right, the vase of hydrangeas by the windowsill.

it’s a sunny morning. the perfect setting for the start of your day, an atmosphere you can savour, like the gradual sipping of your soon-to-be morning cup of coffee. somewhere outside your vision comes a morning symphony, chirps and songs by cicadas and robins. splotches of sunlight splatter against the windows, the kitchen table, the floorboards — illuminating the man in front of the stove.

something in your chest constricts, when you look at him. a tenderness uprooted, a fondness watered and trimmed, a hungry plant only satiated at the sight of this; the back of his head, raven locks cascading down his broad shoulders in obsidian waves, hair put up into a lazy half-down bun. a little messy, a little too breathtaking for words. wearing a black turtleneck that hugs his waist just right.

you should be used to it, by now. suguru has always been an early bird, always the first to rouse from his slumber, only ever contended by shoko and her occasional bouts of sleep-deprivation. he’s always waiting for the three of you, just like this — in front of a sizzling pan, adjusting his glasses by the kitchen table, cooking or reading or simply reminiscing. content to stir in the peace and quiet of the morning hours, before the world wakes up. 

and he’s always taken to preparing breakfast for the four of you, always ready to greet you with a smile and a cup of freshly made cappuccino. he enjoys taking care of you, all three of you. always has.

(it wasn’t any different back when you were kids. suguru was always the first one in the dormitory’s kitchen, messing with the rusty french press or making a grossly bitter smoothie for himself. he was snarkier, more roundabout — but no less thoughtful. grumpy little shoko would always get the last bitter pumps of espresso, and sleepy little satoru would get a french toast if he asked nicely enough. and you? 

you got to see them, be with them. that alone would’ve been enough. the steaming cup of cappuccino left on the kitchen counter — a little too tailored to your taste to be a mere coincidence — was always nothing more than an added bonus.)

the soft humming falters, for no more than a beat or two. suguru shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and suddenly you can’t resist the temptation.

with clumsy steps, heavy feet weighed down by a sleepy sense of numbness, you stumble towards your target. it’s a familiar waltz, five steps to reach him, a warmth that spreads throughout your body in tandem with the curl of your arms around his waist. slumped against him, cheek squished against his upper back, you hold your breath.

silently, you wait. one, two, until you hear the familiar roll of his breath; a delighted little sigh that slips from his parted lips.

when suguru cranes his head to get a glimpse of you, his amber eyes are leaking adoration. a sense of liveliness, a joyous spark — like a firefly, the flicker of a rusty lighter. he looks well-rested, dark circles long faded, only the dimmest remnant of them still visible beneath his eyes. 

he holds your gaze, steady and kind, and then he’s leaning forward; eager to press his lips against your waiting forehead. glasses slipping ever so slightly down the bridge of his nose. the kiss is chaste, familiar. warm, warm, a faint heat that simmers in your chest, a tiny firework of a feeling. even the metal of his piercing feels warm on your skin. 

you melt into his spine, fingers searching for a pair of hands that find yours first — his thumb rubbing tender circles over your forearm. practiced, memorized, that familiar waltz of motions. he lingers against your skin, breathing in satoru’s favorite strawberry shampoo. you’ve been stealing it for weeks now. 

suguru’s lips curl up into something amused, still not quite willing to part from you. 

but then he does. turning towards the stove, reaching for the coffee pot with one hand, the other securing your own and lacing your fingers together. he gives them an affectionate squeeze, still resting on his lower stomach. a silent greeting that he always ends up voicing anyway.

”g’morning, love,” he croons, a little raspy, but sweet and nice. honeyed and deep, sending pleasant shivers down your spine. you hear him pour something into a cup. ”how did you sleep?”

all you can give him is a tired grunt, stretching your limbs out, blinking sluggishly to shoo away the drowsiness. suguru knows what to expect; he simply smiles, endeared, pouring steamed milk into your favorite cup. with a clink of his spoon against the ceramic, he adds the foam, stirring it carefully.

then he’s shifting his weight, angling his face towards yours, and pressing the rim of the cup against your lips — not before blowing on it gently. he watches as your eyelids flutter, waiting for the hum of contentment he’ll hear once you have your first sip. and he gets it. the rich aroma stirs you into a more awakened state, and a single taste of the creamy foam has you standing up a little straighter, humming in sleepy delight. suguru smiles, crow’s feet hidden behind his glasses. 

you accept the cup with a grateful squeeze of his palm, and he makes sure it’s steady in your hold before he faces forward again. another sip, and your throat feels a little less dry, your mind a lot less sluggish. so you answer his previous question. 

”… slept well,” another tiny sip. it’s hot, warming you up from the inside. ”i would’ve preferred waking up to you, though...”

a low chuckle bubbles up in your boyfriend’s throat. it makes you want to pout, but you smile instead. traitorous lips. 

he’s looking at you again, unable to help himself, reaching over to brush some loose strands of hair away from your face. ”aw, ’m sorry,” he coos, teasingly, sickeningly sweet. ”but then you wouldn’t have woken up to a fresh cup of coffee, hm?” 

now you really are pouting. he shifts, until you're standing chest to chest, and kisses it away. twice, for good measure. he must be in a good mood.

he usually is, at this time of year. when the air starts smelling of honeydew and snowdrops, and he’s awoken by barking dogs, luscious sunbeams splattered on soft bedsheets, the pitter patter of sudden spring rain. when the apricot trees outside your apartment complex begin to bloom; a flurry of sickly-white kisses pressed against your windows, sticking to the locks of your hair. it gives him an excuse to run his fingers through it. even when shoko whines for him to cut it out, and satoru purposefully shakes the branches to make the tiny white petals even harder to find. he must like having his hair ruffled like a misbehaving dog. 

they make suguru sigh and sigh, exasperated, but there’s always a smile waiting somewhere out of view. he’s not very good at hiding it.

(he likes the apricot trees. likes watching them change shape, colour, likes waiting for them to wither and blossom and turn into fruit.

once they’re ripe enough to pick, i’ll make marmalade for us.)

the morning waltz continues. while suguru continues to flip his pancakes, you sleepily decide to set the table. fondness erupts behind his eyelids at the gesture, small as it is. you stand on your tiptoes to reach the highest shelf, just to grab satoru’s favorite mug; one you all got him for his 19th birthday, a heartfelt message of world’s okayest boyfriend etched into the front. it was meant to make him pout and whine, but you’ve never seen him drink out of anything else at home.

you place the cup on the table with a soft thunk, along with plates and cutlery. suguru has already brought down a cup for shoko, seated on the kitchen counter next to him, soon to be filled with the same rich espresso he always drinks. he’s waiting until she joins you both, so it doesn’t end up going lukewarm. there’s nothing shoko hates more. you can practically hear that grumpy scoff, see her cute little frown.

your sleep schedules differ from day to day. suguru is always up early, satoru always sleeps in. shoko fluctuates between the two. you usually end up rousing from your slumber whenever the bed starts feeling a little too empty — a fact you doubt they’ll ever quit teasing you about.

that differs from day to day, too. sometimes you sleep with suguru, sometimes the other two, sometimes all three. you have your separate rooms, but always end up with your limbs intertwined one way or another; even if one of you comes home late or falls asleep on the couch watching tv. satoru can’t sleep without hugging someone, and suguru can’t fall asleep unless he knows you’re all sleeping well. shoko isn’t picky, but you know she feels safest when she’s linking elbows with you, or touching pinkies with suguru, or snoozing on top of satoru’s chest like a weighted blanket. as for you… 

you’ve gotten way too used to their touch to ever go without it. last night, you ended up in suguru’s room, tucked underneath his chin, while satoru snuck into shoko’s bed to convince her not to pull another all-nighter. you’re assuming it worked.

”mm, smells good. you makin’ pancakes?”

a bubbly, groggy voice spills into the air, just as a light breeze flits in through the window. soothing, refreshing. you turn your gaze towards its source.

and there they are. sleepy satoru, and grumpy shoko, the former clinging to the latter like an overgrown koala. satoru seems to be in high spirits, calling out to you with a smile, blue eyes glimmering like a sunny sky; but you can tell he’s tired by the way he’s stretching out his limbs, only wearing a pair of pyjama pants. and shoko is silent, blinking drowsily, twitching when his loud voice buzzes in her ear. she makes no move to push him away. 

suguru gazes at them with a smile, in tandem with you, nothing but fond. loving, in the way the amber of his eyes gleams and swirls with promises of something everlasting. he’s a little intense, honestly. but you wouldn’t have him any other way.

and, admittedly, your sleepy little partners are a sight for sore eyes. 

shoko meets your gaze, and finally decides to shake off the man with an arm over her shoulder. said man huffs, but makes no move to follow her when she stumbles into your arms. 

her limbs find their way around your midriff, her chin to the curve of your shoulder. her hair is loose, almost as long as suguru’s, messy and brushing against your cheek. your hand goes to smooth down her back, the fabric of her oversized shirt, soft and laced with the scent of laundry detergent. she yawns, right by your ear, lips jutted out into a small pout, and something in your chest returns. a hungry plant, drinking up her raspy voice, the glimpse you get of that mole beneath her eye. her stretch marks, when she pulls away and her shirt rides up enough to expose her thighs. little lightning bolts.

”morning,” you chirp. she presses a tiny kiss against your cheek, dangerously close to your lips; sometimes you think she does it just to tease you.

”hey, how come i didn’t get a morning kiss?”

shoko turns her head, finding satoru’s accusing stare. he’s pouting, tilting his head, already making his way over to suguru. but she only rolls her eyes.

”you’re such a baby.”

”you know you love me!”

suguru stifles a puff of laughter, leaning back against the kitchen counter, elbows resting on the marble. watching his partners with barely contained delight. satoru notices, grinning softly, throwing his arms around his boyfriend’s neck.

satoru’s kisses are always sloppy. you hear that drawn out mwah! even without looking at the pair, even without seeing his lips against suguru’s jaw. a phantom warmth sprouts on your skin. 

”good morning, handsome,” he purrs, low and rumbling through his chest, pressed flush against suguru’s — their heartbeats mingling together. soft skin against smooth fabric. there’s mischief in those aquamarine eyes, something teasing, and it makes suguru want to return the favour. 

”good morning, baby,” he presses his lips against satoru’s cheek. voice muffled against his soft skin, silky and deep. ”you kinda smell.”

a moment passes. the calm before the storm.

satoru blinks, barely registering shoko’s dry chuckle from behind him — and then furrows his eyebrows together like an irritated cat. a scandalized noise builds up at the base of his throat, and he glares at the man in front of him, frustration only growing when he notices that suguru isn’t returning the favour. his gaze is still fond, like an artist admiring a marble statue, drinking in his pouty boyfriend’s fluffy hair and droopy eyes and rosy lips. flattering, but the damage has been done.

”oh, i see how it is,” he withdraws his arms and takes a step back, crossing them with a hmph. ”bullying your sweet boyfriend first thing in the morning, huh? have you no shame?”

”sorry. you just look really bulliable today.”

another offended little noise. he turns on his heel, messy strands of hair swaying with the movement, glaring at shoko instead. ”unbelievable. i feel neglected in this household.”

you huff out a breathy laugh, taking a seat by the kitchen table while your lovers bicker. sipping from your cappuccino in silence, soaking up the mellow morning mood. until you feel satoru staring at you; eyes like marbles, big and bright, rich with mirth. his pout fades away, and he closes in on you with a smile. troubles forgotten. 

before you can greet him, he’s leaning down to leave a fat kiss on your forehead — messy, uncoordinated, but loving. a coo on the tip of his tongue. when he’s this close you can see his dimples, those tiny freckles that only come out in the light of the sun. 

you feel him smile against your skin, pulling back to speak. parting his pretty, glossy lips. ”and good morning to you, my dearest.”

he’s silly.

your lips bloom into a sweet grin, honeyed nectar on your teeth. he’s illuminated by the light streaming in through the window, a little disheveled, with his cute bedhead and bare chest exposed. a giggle slips from your lips, and your voice carries a melodic lilt, coming out as a soft croon. ”good morning, sunshine.”

satoru blinks. just once, before the telltale signs of his excitement start to show; his face brightening, breaking out into a cheshire grin, something sweet in the way his eyes crinkle. like folded origami, like messily cut fruit. citrusy and smooth.

before you can protest, those strong arms are reaching around your waist — hoisting you up into his arms with a coo of c’mere. he spins you around, just once or twice, and chuckles at the way you let out a sleepy yelp. even after stilling, he doesn’t put you down, only guiding your legs to wrap around his middle; his naked chest and muscles pressed flush against you. he’s warm, one large palm on your back and the other on your thigh. he touches you like it’s muscle memory, every ridge and dip, every part of you he’s already long mapped out. honestly, you don’t understand how he can get so excited this early in the morning.

but who are you to complain, when it means getting smothered like this? 

”oh, and i smell great, by the way,” he suddenly huffs, directed at the partners behind him. he’s quick to smile down at you, tilting his head and searching for approval. ”don’t i, baby?”

for a second, you’re tempted to join in on the teasing. some part of you wants to. unfortunately, it loses against the parts of you still mesmerized by the splotches of white inside his pretty eyes, those cute little freckles. so you nod.

”yeah,” you breathe. inhaling, taking him in, sunlight and strawberries and laundry detergent. ”you smell like spring.”

his smile continues to blossom, turning sweeter by the minute. brighter than the sun. he throws a victorious glance behind him, delighting in the simultaneous roll of their eyes — before finally putting you back down. he wastes no time in plopping down on the seat to your right, dragging your chair closer to his, until they’re pressed against each other. curling a leg around yours. so clingy in the morning. 

suguru and shoko are quick to join you. they blink slowly, sipping on their cups of espresso, a rich aroma spreading throughout the kitchen. it blends well with the plates of pancakes suguru scoots towards you, drizzled with the syrup satoru likes. he’s attentive, making sure you’re all comfortable, rising to his feet when shoko asks for a single cube of sugar. she’s started to mellow out a bit, no longer as grumpy, soothed by the bitter taste on her tongue. and satoru keeps your leg locked in place beneath the table.

it’s hard not to feel nostalgic, like this. when spring is blooming just outside your window, when all three of them are just the same as you remember. some things have changed, sure, but they’re still so unapologetically them. loud voices, rude eye-rolls, teasing comments and all.

they munch on their pancakes, sip on their coffee, and you chat about what to do when you all get home. what movie to watch, what food to order, what food to make because suguru doesn’t think you’ve been eating enough homemade meals lately. bickering and bantering. smiling.

(it feels like high school every day.)

shoko is the first to leave. she glances at the clock on the wall and stutters out a string of curse words, a mutter about being late. suguru plays dumb when she accuses him of not reminding her on purpose. she kisses you again, right under your jaw, and lets her clingy boyfriends give her one kiss each on the lips — despite her protests that they’ll mess up her lipstick. then she’s heading out.

”goodbye, doctor!” satoru calls, cheery even as your girlfriend rolls her pretty eyes.

”don’t call me that yet,” she snorts, adjusting her scarf. ”there’s still a good chance i’ll drop out. or cheat my way to a doctorate.”

so she says, but you all know her. you catch that glimmer of amusement in her eyes, something smug in the way she straightens her back. a little embarrassed, maybe. but the faith you have in her makes her glow.

then it’s satoru’s turn. he’s whinier, about it, ignoring the alarms on his phone on purpose. suguru has to bribe him, promising him kikufuku and take-out and an extra tight hug when he gets home. only then does he get up from his seat, untangling his leg with yours.

”do i have to?”

”yes, you do,” suguru tuts. ”the kids have an exam today. be responsible.”

another pout. but he listens, slipping on his sunglasses, putting on a coat and stealing a sip of your coffee that only makes him grimace. he has you both kiss the taste away, and you indulge him, because he’s silly and stupid and yours. 

and then it’s just you and suguru. he has a day off, and you don’t have to leave until later. the kitchen falls silent, back to a mellow morning rhythm, that quiet waltz of motions and sunshine. suguru pours you more coffee, gazing at you from across the table, and you thank him with a smile. he adjusts his glasses and flips through the morning newspaper; absently, you wonder if shoko and satoru would’ve teased him for it.

what the four of you have is an odd arrangement. but that’s what all of you are, anyway; a little odd. 

and as you sit there, serenaded by cicadas and morning birds, senses caressed by cappuccino foam and apricot blossoms and a hand holding yours over the table… you think to yourself that even if everything shattered around you — if the earth stopped spinning or the stars crashed through the roof of your apartment — you’d probably still keep on living. you’d do it, if only to continue chewing on these memories, these mornings, like savouring the faded flavour of an old piece of gum. over and over again, until you can’t tell where your teeth end and where the gum begins, so that you’ll always be able to taste it on your tongue. for the rest of your life.

it’s melodramatic, yes, but they are too. you’re sure suguru is pondering a sentiment even more dramatic, right now, even heavier with devotion. something so sappy you’d have to hide your face in your hands and beg him to stop talking. 

and, lo and behold, he suddenly speaks up. 

“are you happy?”

the question breaks you out of your silent stupor. you look up from your plate, his amber eyes already taking you in, drowning you in fondness. he’s smiling, and he’s looking at you like you’re spring personified. the silver of his lip piercing catches the light of the sun. a couple apricot petals are stuck in his hair, woven between his raven locks. 

you blink. inside your chest, something unfurls, twists and turns, grows and withers all at once. a whole garden of love, just for them.

you lean forward, elbows on the table, and brush through his bangs. petal caught between your fingertips. when you lean back, you’re smiling.

“yeah,” you answer, truthfully. inhaling the scent of spring. “i’m always happy when i’m with you.”

a breeze caresses your cheek, your hands, and the whole apartment smells of apricots. suguru seems pleased, returning to his cup of lukewarm coffee, a little clink of ceramic against porcelain that strikes you as distinctly heavenly.

soon, you’ll have to leave. you’ll have to manage without their jokes and banter and touches, without them, for a grueling number of hours, one tortuous lecture after another. but they’ll be waiting once you get back — and tomorrow, you’ll have breakfast again, just like this. forever and ever. you never want the coffee to run out, never want the apricot trees to wither. you want to stay greedy for a long time to come. 

and you’re sure they feel the same.

the sun lets her golden hair flow throughout the city, melting rivers and warming benches. she falls across shoko’s lecture hall, sneaks into satoru’s classroom, kisses her way up suguru’s neck. you let a sigh slip past your lips, and the sun breathes it in again — a vein of joy awoken, slumbering inside your veins.

and you smile.

(it’s springtime, now. a little warmer. 

here’s to another year together.)

[minhosimthings]

Elysian || 18+

Synopsis: you never wanted to fall for the only son of the family yours hated. And yet you did.

Pairings: Mafia boss!Hyunjin × fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI 18+, mentions of dagger, kind of knife play?, P in v sex, fingering, angst, fluff, forbiddened love, mafia boss au, mention of poison, blood, food and alcohol, reader wears a dress, implied mental abuse, fluffy at the end but it's really angsty in the middle sorry yall

A/N: ahhh this took a lot of time to write because I wanted everything to be PERFECT. and in my opinion this is the best shit I've ever written Mona 2am brain go burr. Also this is dedicated to my beloved @astraystayyh and Hyunjin's photoshoots which have made me go feral approximately 143 times

Red.

You remembered it as a hibiscus, decorating the gardens of your family's estate as child. You remembered it as the ugly hue of your grandmother's rug, the only thing you'd fixate on whenever the stench of blood filled your nose. You remembered it as your family's emblem, in a kingdom of money and roses and whatnot. You remembered red as death.

But you never thought you would have remembered red as the colour which outlined the shadows of the painting in front you.

You never though red would remind you of one of your most favourite persons ever, of his plump pink lips and gorgeous waterfall of hair you would decorate with rose petals anyday.

You never thought red would remind you of Hwang Hyunjin.

Red, as the multifaceted colour it is, fascinated you. It was like an idea in your head, hard to drive out, impossible to kill. What was red truly? What shades did it hide?

Red as a ladybug or red as a lobster? Red as a tulip or red as red as a new bride's cheeks? Red as lipstick or red as a gown? Red as roses or red as blood?

Red as the dominating colour of Hyunjin's palette was the correct answer to you most of the time.

You could recall the first time you had ever met him. Five months ago or had it been a year? You didn't remember much, just the fact that Hwang Hyunjin saved you, the 'enemy' from a bullet wound when he could have let you rot and made his family proud. The Hwangs were nefarious for their merciless behaviour, and yet you found in Hyunjin, a different kind of warmer mercy.

A mercy which you preferred because no one else gave it to you.

And that was how you found comfort in Hyunjin, a sense of familiarity that made you believe that you could be your true self with him and not just another painted version of you. Granted, he did paint you, in various shades of golds, violets and reds.

Painstaking as they were, you loved your short lived secret sessions with him. He was like a thief, quietly sneaking in through a window, and stealing away your heart with his demeanor.

Both of you came from families who despised each other, there was a certain Romeo-Juliet element to it all that both amused and frightened you.

But no matter what thing troubled you, you always had your memories with him to come back to. Especially those soft tender moments when you realised how much you craved a normal life away from the money and the blood.

You remembered one moment better than most others. It was the first time you said the poisonous word. It was that time in Italy...or was it Belgium? All you seemed to actually recall was the time you first walked into the love which Hyunjin gave you.

Dark chocolate eyes flickered over your naked body as it sunk beneath warm water, a bottle of liquid soap shone a bit in the candlelight as Hyunjin poured it into your tub. His ethereal figure was like a God in the pale moonlight coming from the tiny window.

“Just a little something extra to provide you some… relief,” he smiled, dipping his elegant hand into the waters to stir it around.

Hyunjin knew you were an assassin, carefully molded into one by your family, nevertheless he saw more than what he was supposed to. He saw you as a human instead. A human who was tired of all the blood she had spilt.

Your body easing into the water, you barely noticed the ripples of Hyunjin slipping his carved body beside you. It barely registered, his arm wrapping around you, the warm water pouring down your neck to rinse off the blood, the trickles that run down your face as he wets your hair and washed it clean of sweat and more.

You couldn't remember the last time you had felt like this, so relaxed so taken care of. So you said it, you said the word without a moment's waste.

"I love you" you had blurted out without a second thought, "I love you, Hwang Hyunjin." The name mattered to you in ways you hadn't ever fathomed before.

And the worst thing was he said it back. With a kiss to imprint it.

And now here you were, eyes flickering between the ceiling and each other. The warm light of the massive ballroom shone its glory onto you as you clutched your champagne tight to your bosom, making sure to distract yourself with it, whenever your stolen glances at Hyunjin were caught by someone.

You hadn't been forced to attend the ball by any means by your family, in fact you volunteered for it. You had waited eagerly for your target's name, your mother stressed that it was an important one, and as the quietest daughter it would have been easy for you to kill in plain sight and prove once and for all to your father that you were ready to take over as the heir to his 'buisness'. Maybe you'd finally have the fame and the power you craved off as a child, like some starved deer eating its own kind.

But now, you clutched the tiny vile of hemlock close to your hip, carefully dropping it into your pocket, all the while staring at Hyunjin across the room, who was laughing with someone you recognised as a painter Hyunjin adored. His raucous yet polite laughter, gorgeous strands of hair framing his face, your heart sobbed at the thought of slipping poison into his veins.

If you had even a modicum of respect for your own head, maybe you would have sneaked the hemlock into his drink at the slightest moment. Unfortunately though, you didn't and so it came to be that you resorted to dissecting a serene painting until hopefully Hyunjin ultimately noticed you.

The painting fascinated you, it was one you hadn't ever seen before. Dark blue traced the outlines two people, with grey hair and wisened foreheads, holding hands through a rough brown canvas. You smiled at the painting before taking a sip of your champagne. Love, eternally, was one of Hyunjin's most beloved topics to waste all his blue paint on.

Words rushed through your mind as your eyes traced each brushstroke. Whips of harsh sentences and scenes of conversations, contrasting the soft daubs of paint, flashed in front of your eyes.

'The Parks? Mum I can't do that!'

'You want to be useful to this family? Marry him and you'll be more than useful'

'But Mum...!'

'You think you have a say in this? Shut up and do what's good for that useless head of yours'

"Admiring my work, my love?"

You flinched slightly at the different voice, which sounded like spring rain and lily pads. Spinning on your heel to face the source of the voice, you found yourself melting into a pair of beautiful eyes, the kind of eyes that made thieves wonder why they ever bothered to steal pieces of art. His eyes—the color of an intoxicating champagne—beckoned you over with nothing more than a warm smile.

"What?" Hyunjin chuckled, seeing you stare at him, "Did I get fondue on my lips again?"

"No, just..." You trailed off, not finding the correct words, "You look good."

"As you do, my sweet." Hyunjin's hand took yours and brought it up to his lips, "God, I wish I could paint you right here."

"Hyunjin," you gave him a playful look, unsure of whether or not it was hiding your fright, what if someone saw?

Hyunjin's arms went to your waist, pulling you closer to him, which felt like syrup wafting through the air, sweet with a touch of familiarity. He leaned in, you felt his hot breath on your neck as he whispered, "None of your family or their spies are here don't worry."

You took in a shaky breath, as you felt his long, dainty fingers reaching up your thigh, fiddling with something strapped tightly to it. Hyunjin smiled into your neck, as he continued to fiddle with the leather.

"That's how they plan to kill me?" He chuckled, "With a dagger strapped to the ravishing thigh of the love of my life?"

"That's just Plan B." You whispered, shoving his hand off gently, as your eye caught a waiter in the corner glancing at you and Hyunjin, "Just in case the hemlock doesn't work."

"Willing to test that theory?" Hyunjin stepped away from you, leaving your body colder than you wished. His cocky smile, his raised brow and relaxed demeanour, he was like a like a cat lounging in a garden, at peace with watching the world pass on.

"In front of everyone?" You questioned, "don't tell me the only son of the Hwangs is becoming soft for someone like me."

Hyunjin's mouth stretched lazily as he grinned at you, extending a hand for you to take.

"Let's go somewhere private?" He asked, not giving you time to answer as he basically dragged you across the hall, where magnificent stairs led to the upper floors of the luxurious mansion. Gossiping eyes followed your movements, well, more precisely, Hyunjin's movements, as he led you up the stairs, making sure not to step on your tartine dress, as you carried the fabric behind you with regal grace.

"Now," Hyunjin smirked as you climbed onto the last step, now well hidden from the party downstairs, "Shall we?" And he broke into a run, dragging you behind him, giggling maniacally like a child in the summer. You were sure you heard your dress rip, but you had not a care as you ran with Hyunjin down the corridor, to the last door, his bedroom. The walls of the corridors were lined with paintings, Hyunjin's evidently, fading edges of canvases standing out against the ruby of the wall paint and the carpeted floor. You recognised each and every painting. A painting of a woman amongst daffodils, another of the same woman in an abandoned mansion which Hyunjin had always told you would be that women's one day. The day he married that woman to be specific.

'The woman in my dreams', Hyunjin told his family when they asked him who she was. 'The woman in my dreams', Hyunjin told his patrons when they asked who she was. 'You', Hyunjin told you when you asked, though you knew, but you still questioned him, in between chaste kisses on the neck and giggles. Hyunjin came to a halt in front of the oak carved door, a tiny metal label on top spelling his name in cursive letters.

"How about we put that dagger to use then?" Hyunjin pressed your back against the door in no time, devouring your being as he tasted the honey of your elysian lips. His hands went again, to your thigh, fumbling to take the dagger out, but you were quicker in your actions. Your hand had been resting on the door's handle, and as you tugged on it, both of you fell back into the room, lips never wanting to leave each other's company.

"Jinnie," you made a sound of pleasure as you pulled away from him, suddenly aware of the audible music coming from downstairs, "Maybe not now."

"Come now love," Hyunjin laughed, striding into the room, where painting supplies lay cluttered next to a pristinely made bed, "Don't say that after we escaped from the prying eyes of everyone downstairs."

"Hyunjin," you looked at him with reprimanding eyes, how could you tell him the actual reason? "Don't you think it'd be suspicious to my family if I return today with messed up hair and a torn silken dress after merely slipping poison into someone's champagne?" How could you tell him to make you stop falling more for him? "This shit is expensive you know."

"Would it not be more dangerous if you were to return without killing the Hwang family's brightest hope?" Hyunjin's voice, though low, spoke it's volume, as he removed his coat, throwing it onto an empty chair.

Locked in a gaze that spoke volumes, you inched toward Hyunjin, a silent plea lingering in the air. As your fingers tightened around his hair, a palpable tension filled the space between you.

His ethereal eyes held yours, revealing a tumult of unspoken struggles and desires. Your gaze shifted to his lips—slightly chapped yet irresistibly inviting. 

Without even a moment of hesitation, you kissed him.

Hyunjin's initial surprise melted into a shared passion, and for a moment, the world around you faded. His arms encircled you, pulling you close as if trying to etch the moment into his memory. As the intensity deepened, you let go of his soft hair, your hands finding their way to his jaw, pulling him even closer.

He tasted your soft lips and felt your warm skin. He pulled away slightly, breath mingling with yours, lips lingering, an anguished pause in the silent night.

"so pretty..." he mutters, taking in the sight of your body.

Hyunjin's lips attach to your skin, leaving deep marks of love all over which wouldn't go away for days now. You stifled your moan, as his lips sucked on your collarbone, you could feel his erection pressing through his pants to your core, making you accidentally whimper.

Hyunjin's ringed hands made their way up your right thigh, the slit in your dress allowing him to caress the soft skin, the cold metal of the ruby created dagger hitting his skin like soft cotton to a wound.

He couldn't explain how attractive it was to him, the carved golden hilt, the blood red jewel in the centre, and the carefully shaped blade of the dagger, decorating his most favourite muse. You were a painting come to life for him.

You were his painting, his magnum opus, a canvas as precious as an angel's wing.

Your mind, on the other hand, was racing at a hundred miles per the hour. How could you tell him? How could you tell him the truth he'd always known? That your love was one the stars crossed each other to find?

You draw him into another uncertain kiss, this one your confused mind didn't think much about, and trailed a hand up the smooth skin of his exposed chest. Hyunjin signs into your mouth and runs both his hands down your sides, pausing to squeeze your thigh, and the cold blade pressed against your skin again.

“My love, that was by far one of the most sexy things I’ve ever seen.” Voice low and seductive, your lips barely pulling away from him. "I really can't believe you chose this one out of all. You know it's my gift don't you?"

"Hyunjin..." You trailed off, impatiently pulling away from his lips, "we shouldn't, we really shouldn't."

"Why not love?" Hyunjin's lips pressed against yours again morphing into a gentler kiss, he was evidently trying to calm you down.

"Hyunjin please don't." You begged with him, as if you were begging for your mind to stop itself before you went too far. You had to stop falling for him before it was too late. And yet how could you?

"Princess-" Hyunjin began before looking at you with worried eyes, "You're scaring me what's wrong? You can talk to me."

"What's wrong is we shouldn't be doing this." You tried to feign disgust, but all that came out was pathetic love for Hyunjin, 'Don't let me fall in love again' was what you had meant to say.

"Princess—"

"No!" You all as but screamed, forgetting that you were currently above a party filled with guns and roses, Hyunjin stood shocked in front of you at your sudden outburst, the air around you stilled, as words came out like vomit.

"listen, I am to get married to the Park family's eldest son, and if anyone, anyone, finds out about this," you stopped and took in a breath, "we're dead, Hyunjin, both of us! Or worse shit I can't even fathom to think about!" You took a breath at every word, stressing each note like a violin's vibrato, "And I'd really fucking take this poison myself rather than living in a world where everything tries to stop us from being together. So, please Hyunjin," your eyes held whispers of pained love, "Don't let me fall into this depth of love, because I just know I can never climb out."

The silence that overtook the room was heavy, heavier than you would have liked. You could have endured bullet heads, burn marks, fractures, but this was the greatest wound of all. The greatest pain you'd endured was the one you had always been deprived of.

Love, had it always been such a sin?

Your head felt dizzy as you say down on the bed, letting the soft material of the cover sink in. The dagger round your thigh and the air round your being felt tighter. You felt as if you could have drawn oceans of blood at that moment.

"Love," his voice echoed through your entire being, "look at me.

Your head turned to look up at him, as his hands quickly straddled you onto his lap, one of them squeezing your right thigh, eliciting a quiet moan out of you.

You saw it in his eyes. Felt it in his touch. The ethereal, devilish angel, Hwang Hyunjin had been loafing around on this earth long enough to know how to claim what was his. When his hips knocked yours to lay you flat on the bed, you already knew what was coming next.

"Hyunjin I-"

"I don't care what or who comes in our way. You, my dearest, are mine, and mine alone." Hyunjin growled into your ear, his anger would never seep through to you but on certain occasions it would certainly scare you, the way his anger was cold as an icicle, rather than fiery like a volcano.

A groan rumbles through Hyunjin's chest, and he dips down to give a playful bite to your bottom lip, earning a squeak you will deny if asked about later.

One of his hands moves down to delicately play with your breast, kneading softly before pinching your nipple between his finger and thumb. You break the kiss with a breathless gasp, tugging at Hyunjin’s roots, forcing a ragged groan from him. Hyunjin wastes no time to pepper kisses down the column of your neck. He pushed the hair out of his eyes before he grabbed you by the waist and rubbed his cock up against you. He could feel heat settle in his body as his cock throbbed for you. He wanted you, he needed you more than he needed air. And he was more than willing to let you know that.

Stripping off your clothes and throwing it to the side, Hyunjin climbed up the bed and grabbed your hand on the way, hauling you under him. He wasted no time in lining himself up with you, throwing his head back in a groan as your pussy enveloped him.

Hyunjin groaned through grit teeth as he pushed his cock into you. You tensed and he groaned louder, he held onto the bed under you and moved all the way inside of you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and held him tightly as he started to thrust. You moaned into his skin as he moved against you.

His mouth went to your neck, leaving dark scars there. His teeth hit the ruby of your necklace, as he took it in his mouth and tugged at it, making you gasp loudly.

Your body felt numb but in a pleasurable way. You could only lie there and accept all the pleasure that he was giving you. He kissed your soft face, he could feel your racing heartbeat under your skin. His face went back to your neck where he left more bruises on the flesh. He felt heat through his body as the pleasure coursed through his veins. It was arousing, he couldn’t deny what he was feeling.

"You're mine." Hyunjin growled through a symphony of soft sighs, "I will never let anything get in between us, alright?"

The only response he got was a pleasured moan escaping from your lips, but he took it. He took pride in the way he could make you feel like this.

Your head fills with pleasures, not a single thought could form in your head. “Fuck you feel so good doll” he groans holding your hips down and slamming deeper inside you. “G-god Hyunjin! Feels…s-so good!” You cry.

Your eyes begin to roll back feeling how good he felt. His tip hitting your G-spot making you ready to cum just as fast as before. “H-Hyune fuck I’m gonna c-“ you are interrupted by his hand gripping your throat, choking you.

“Fuck baby you got wetter just from that… god you're so good” his mixture of degradation and praise had your body a dripping, desperate mess. You couldn’t believe the hold he had over you.

His breathing is labored when he pulls his hips back and thrusts in, he goes slow at first, treating you like you were a fragile statue made from porcelain, but then you’re begging him to go faster, to go harder. His tongue swipes along the roof of his mouth before he speaks, “are you sure, doll? i don’t— fuck— want to hurt you.”

“h-hurt me, it’s okay,” you mumble out, and he truly does hesitate for a second, then his thrusts are suddenly faster, bumping you into the bed with the sheer snap of his hips. Your cries sound like noises formed from a blessed harp, passed down by the gods for him to listen to, each moan getting louder and louder until his ears are ringing, until the music sounds hushed compared to your screams.

He felt you trembling hard, pulsing around his cock as you got close to cumming. He works himself deeper inside you, stroking all the places you need to reach that high point. A few more thrusts and you burst. You gush around him with a long whine.

You squirm and buck as he holds you in place and keeps rutting into you until it becomes too much for him. He also lets loose and shoots his cum inside you. He fucks it into you a bit, before slowly pulling out.

Slightly panting and out of breath, Hyunjin's figure could be seen gracefully outlined by the moon's tears penetrating through the tall, stained windows. He gets up and fetches a towel, gently cleaning you up as your eyes flickered between sleep and consciousness.

"Are you alright, love?" He questioned you, his fingers tracing shapes on your hips as he layed down beside you again, clearly not in the mood for wearing his clothes. Neither were you, so you turned your body towards him, allowing him to wrap you into the cocoon of his warm muscles. Laying your head on his chest, you felt his hand, once again, reaching for your thigh.

"You really do like that dagger don't you?" You laughed, as he caressed the metal.

"You should wear it more often, maybe for a painting?" Hyunjin's suggested, a smile like the air after rain, fresh with the stench of earth and dew, imprinted on his face.

"Hyunjin I-", you began, taking a breath before continuing, "What about—about my family?"

You swore you could have heard Hyunjin gently scoff, but you ignored it as he brought you closer to him, the space in between you practically empty.

"Stay here for tonight." Hyunjin said, "and if they come in search of their 'beloved' daughter," he scoffed once again, muttering a curse underneath his breath, "I'll tell them I stole her away from her tower."

"More like stole her dagger away." You giggled, finding his obsession with the strap on your thigh amusing. Hyunjin merely smiled at that, and silence fell again.

"Y/N?"

"Hm?"

"I love you."

Red wasn't that bad of a colour after all. Not when it reminded you of Hyunjin, not when it reminded you of secret kisses and poisoned paintings, and certainly not when it reminded you of love.

"I love you too, Hyunjin."

[nosyrobin]

Prologue: The little boys savior

||Batfamily x Gn!reader||

Warning: abuse mentions, drugs, and typical Gotham behavior

(Robins au)

Prologue ||

[Your pov]

Waking up tired and feeling like shit is always a magical moment….what a damn joke. Your parents died because they wanted to be drug lords. But of course that didn’t work out. Shot straight to the head when you were just 6, it’s been ten years later after that happened and you got put into the orphanage when it happened in one night. You sighed at that damn memory, you can’t get out the memories of your parents on the floor as you whimper.

You got out of your bed, swearing as you felt a headache hit you like a truck. Frowning, you quickly take some Advil. You got dressed and ready, ready to go to a school of hell and bullies. Walking down the stairs of the orphanage, you see little kids running around smiling, some are scared, some are new and are crying already, and some are just emotional or emotionless.

You felt bad for the kids who just got here as you gave them a sad look, walking out of the big building with your book bag in hand and your phone in the other. You smiled thinking of watching some gameplay marathons of your favorite YouTubers. You had a weird tactic of thinking stuff as if it’s a video game. Or even your actions. It actually does come in handy for you to think about things. That’s how you cope with stuff like your thoughts, actions, and even abuse in the orphanage. You think a lot, thinking helps you relax. Thinking about things in a light of where children are stuck in a mind space. It’s not like the adults in the hellhole you live in how can stop you since you are the oldest of the bunch of children in the building. You were about to make a turn when a guy in a black coat pushed you by harshly. Making you fall to the ground with a hard “THUMP!”

Your bag was half opened as you try to push your things in your bag. “Fuckin asshole!” You yelled out, getting up and grabbing your bag you didn’t notice a three kids with different styled middle parts. “Come back with our brother stranger!” One with a high pitch voice yelled, he was the youngest and shortest of the three. All had black hair and blue eyes, making them look the same but different. One with a bandaid over his cheek looked at you with urgency, “hey! Help us catch that man!” The boy with a ruffled up middle part says, pointing at the running man.

You looked at your bag, and the kids. “Uh oh..” you thought as you felt like time was slowing down. Feeling like a based decision game, you grabbed your bag. One of the boy’s eyes looked like his faith had fallen. But that was before you quickly opened your bag, pulling out a sharp binder and throwing it hard. The three boy gasps, you just deadpan thinking the binder would not even make it to hit the stranger. But oddly it did, the sharp part of the binder hit the thief straight on his head. Knocking him down, your jaw was open along with the black haired boys that stayed by your side.

“THATS NOT SCIENTIFICALLY POSSIBLE??” You screamed inside your head. You and the three small amigos go run to the knocked out body. You at first kicked it, seeing if he was really knocked out. Which he was before taking a tanned skin baby that looked…angry. Not even crying, or screaming. Just an angry little thing that wants to go back to bed. You gave it the one that seems the most eager to hold his brother.

“Thanks!” He said with a smile, his other brothers crowed him. Making sure the baby was fully okay. Soon a masculine voice called out across the streets. “Boys! Boys!” You turned to the voice only to drop your jaw..BRUCE WAYNE?! THE BRUCE WAYNE?! You stood shock while Bruce collectively hug his sons. “You boys alright?” The three boys nodded with a smile. The one with a bandaid points to you. “They knocked a man out and got Damian back!” Bruce raised a brow and looks at you. “Thank you for saving my son, I wish I could repay as of now but we’re in a hurry….” The tall man starts to analyze you. “..you look a little bit young to be out here. Don’t your parents know you’re out here?” Your eyes widened. You didn’t know how to answer..but man you wished you had a QTE to avoid this. Or even a pick of dialogue.

“DONT say orphanage.”

“Don’t say orphanage…”

“DONT even lie at all!”

"Press X to lie" randomly popped up in your head, before you could comprehend your own thoughts. Words spurred out your mouth.

“My parents are working! Yeah…they’re working.” You said awkwardly. Bruce raised a brow as Tim was pointing at your school bag. “And where are you supposed to be kid?” “…uuuh I’m just trying to go to school when suddenly this happened!” You said quickly, holding the straps of your book bag tightly to your chest. “Damnit I lied!” You cursed yourself mentally. Bruce hummed, making you look around nervously while the three children and one baby stare at you as if you lifted up the stars and sun. You waved at the little kids, the one with a neat middle part waved excitedly, while one with not much of a clean middle part just partly waved at you.

“Hmm stay safe now.” “I will!" you immediately left the billionaire, swearing under your breath as you ran. Bruce Wayne and his kids stared at the teen when they turned their back. “Dad…” Bruce looked down at Tim who was pulling his leg pants. “They’re lying about their parents.” “I know.” Bruce says, he starts to walk the direction he came from. The three young boys followed suit, but the boys couldn’t help but stare at the fading figure of the teen who saved their little brother’s life.

[selarina]

Bleeding Heart Dove

-> Nanami Kento x Reader

Summary: In the quiet routine of a strained marriage, a simple proposal for a trip offers a glimpse of hope.

Tags: angst, slow burn, marriage au, marital strain, emotional hurt/comfort, implied emotional neglect, second chance au, rainy day, fluff, suggestive, mention of reader having boobs, unresolved tension (they need to fuck nasty), unedited

Word Count: 970 words

Author's Note: it's raining and I finally got a surge to write something <3 anyway, bleeding heart dovessssssss have my heart

Read on AO3 | Part 2

Today had been sad and gloomy, the rain pouring relentlessly as the clouds had been crying since noon.

He tried to make his entrance small, creeping in like a nimble thief in the night. Slowly, he removed his sodden shoes and coat, hanging them up to dry. His umbrella he placed on the ground, even more slowly. See, it was an old one, and tended to spring up and about with sudden movement.

He stepped inside the kitchen now. There was food on the table, just as always. He uncovered the plastic wrapping and placed it in the oven, not even bothering to check what was for dinner. Hunger was gnawing at him and he would eat a human hand if you let him.

"Hello," a voice cut through.

"Oh," he turned, startled. "I'm sorry. Did I wake you?"

"I was up anyway," you replied. Your business clothes clung to you like the remnants of a very weary day. You must have returned late as well. "Let me help, Nanami."

He didn't say anything, simply stepping aside to let you tend to his plate and yours. He had assumed he'd have the whole meal for himself, a strange notion given the portion size. But given that he hadn't eaten all day, he didn't question the rationality at first. Now, it made sense — you hadn't eaten either.

He started setting up the glasses, placing two for wine and two for water, movements mechanical and jittery.

"Here," you said, appearing before him with a corkscrew in hand, as if conjured by some quiet magic.

Your hands looked tired. Lagging. Your eyes bleary. An impulse stirred within him, as though a needle had pricked at his heart, he felt the urge to swipe his hands over your eyes, to wipe away the weariness. But he withheld.

"Thank you," he murmured, taking the corkscrew and setting to work on the bottle.

Your gaze lingered for a mere second on his hands, watching the way they flexed with the way he handled the bottle. Precise. Gentle.

"How was work?" you asked, turning to the oven.

He wonders if you actually cared about what he said. “Horrible,” he answered.

"Oh," you replied. Neutral. "Okay." Neutral again. It drove him a bit insane every time. But he was a calm man.

"And your work?" he asked.

"Oh, quite lovely," you replied, a soft, dove-like smile gracing your lips. It was a smile that brought a sting of sadness to his heart, for he knew you would not elaborate. Not for him.

"That's nice," he said, his voice hollow. He poured the wine into the glasses, filling yours to three-quarters and his to a scant half.

And then the two of you sat, on opposite ends of your teak dinner table. Eating and swallowing in silence. The clanking of the forks being the only music that filled the room. He thought about getting up to play set the record, playing some of those old jazz tunes you were quite fond of. But the record was likely dusty. It was much too much work.

So he remained seated, the silence between you so vast and impenetrable, it made you conscious about how loud you were chewing your food.

—

"Well," you returned from the bathroom. now clad in delicate sleep shorts and a camisole, applying your usual moisturizer to your elbows. "The water's cold," you commented.

"Yeah," he responded, glancing up from his spot on the bed. "Sorry, I prefer it cold so I didn't notice. I think it's the rain."

You chuckled, a sound that seemed almost out of place. "I know you prefer it cold, Nanami. We've been married for practically a millennium, for God's sake."

An exaggeration, of course. It had been six years. You did this a lot.

He offered a faint smile in response, the corners of his mouth barely lifting. "Right," he said.

He felt the bed dip slightly under your weight as you sat. "Will you get my back?" You asked, holding out the moisturiser as you turned to present your back.

He took it, as his hands lifted your camisole, all the way up. He poured some of the white lotion onto his hand as his eyes flickered up, only momentarily, to see your reflection in the mirror. The front half of your top had risen as well, cinching up your breasts.

His eyes trained back to your back, and he began to rub the cream in. Up and down. And up and down. And up and down. When he was finished, he smoothed down your top. He rubbed his hands over your shoulders, giving a gentle squeeze to let you know he was finished.

And then the two of you slept, side by side, waiting for sleep to come find you in the dark. And just then, he doesn't know how or why this happened so don't ask him. All he knew was that somewhere in those first twenty minutes, he had gotten up, his hands reaching for the night lamp to turn it on, leaving you sat up, surprised.

"What is it?" You had asked.

"We should go on a trip," he proposed, calmly.

"A trip," you squinted, your eyes adjusting to the sudden assault of light.

"Yes, we could go to Okinawa," he suggested.

You paused for a moment. "It's storming these days. The weather will be horrible."

"You pick," he said. "Wherever you want to go. We can go."

And then, you thought about it. For a few seconds, he was almost afraid you'd call him a foolish old man and fall back onto your pillow. But instead, you smiled—an earnest smile, outside of your usual politeness. And he felt his heart beating fresh blood.

"Okay, old man," you said. "I'll think of a place."

He smiled.

[sohnric]

partners in crime – j. changmin

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

pairing: ji changmin x fem! reader

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

wc: 33k (33.689)

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

playlist || teaser || ao3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, if you could call this casual.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s right– you wouldn’t.

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

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

“But my mother–”

“Just go.”

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

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

You’ll have to be more careful next time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And yet, it happened. Everything.

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

Strange, isn’t it?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ji Changmin chose the bad jewelry store to rob.

Or maybe, he chose the best one he could.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was this his hobby? A way to pass time?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Look–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Changmin,” you hum, acknowledging his presence.

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

“What is this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah? Then why did you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You should stay away.

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

“What is it, then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re a freak.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How can you even be so sure–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well? Go–”

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

“God, no. No, no, that’s–”

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

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

“You do?” she hesitantly asks.

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

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

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

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

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

Somehow, he has it all figured out.

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

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

“They are! Y/N, can I have some?”

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

“But–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It only takes one crying fit and an argument with your mother to find out the harsh reality– your mother fell for a loan that is too difficult to handle, one that makes you pay back fast and with big amounts monthly. She already had a warning. 

If she is late with her payment again, you lose everything.

“It’s… it’s difficult to pay it back,” you conclude, watching as Changmin only nods in understatement. The air around you is suddenly too heavy, but you figure the whole truth won’t hurt anyone. Maybe the weight on your shoulders would feel lighter if you finally tell someone– however selfish the sentiment feels. “If we don’t pay it back within the next few months, we will lose our house. My mother fell for a loan shark,” you say.

“All the years of her telling us to not fall for scams, and then she does this,” you mumble, trying to make fun of the situation. 

“Y/N, that’s–”

“I was also thinking of leaving one day,” you add as you cut him off, not letting him psychoanalyze you or make you feel like he pities you. “I was thinking of getting enough money to settle all of this and then just… move out. Disappear. I need to get away from this house before it suffocates me,” you bitterly laugh, seeing the boy shift his eyes from the ceiling back at you, pressing his lips into a tight line.

“I get you,” leaves his mouth after a heartbeat of silence. Never in your life have you feared being judged as much as in this moment. It’s strange to face your biggest fear– being vulnerable with someone, opening up to them about everything you’re going through– and find that it wasn’t at all as difficult. It’s strange to face your biggest fear and realize that maybe, you had nothing to be scared of in the first place.

It’s strange to hear that you’re understood. That somebody gets just how hard it is to breathe every day, walking through the house you grew up in, but which is now haunted. If it was anybody else, you’d try to argue with them. How could they understand? How could they possibly know what is going on inside of your head on a daily basis? How could they get the extent of how far you have to go every day just to survive and keep your sister out of the mess, totally unknowing?

Ji Changmin may not know everything about you, he may not be in the same situation, but still; he knows how you feel. Coming from a background like that, you don’t get to keep a lot of freedom either.

“It’s… it’s a work in progress. I don’t really have a plan either, I just… I just know I need to save up enough to sort things out, move out and leave everything behind. I can’t… I can’t keep doing this forever, y’know,” you shrug, snickering to yourself.

Changmin hums in understatement, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He looks so out of place in the middle of your white sheets, dressed in his all black attire. The contrast of his clothes and the brightness of your laundry cuts through all major parts of your life as well– where there’s anxiety, there’s also Changmin’s ability to turn everything into a joke. Where there’s mess and confusion, there’s Changmin’s calculated plans and thought-out strategies. Where there’s loneliness, there’s also Ji Changmin’s sheer presence next to you during the lunch break. It’s strange, just how quickly you found comfort in the serpent-like boy. It’s unfamiliar. The novelty of it all both scares you and comforts you all at once.

The boy is silent for a while before he speaks up, processing the information. As if knowing that there’s nothing he could really say to make you feel better about the situation– or fearing that anything he could utter out would make it worse– he entrusts you with a secret of his own.

“If I don’t get adopted before I turn 18– which, let’s be real, with my history and everything, won’t happen– I age out of the system and I’m all on my own,” he says, shrugging, “I’ll need money to get on my own feet. To leave, too. Fuck, I need to leave that house and this town. I need to start over somewhere where they won’t know every single thing that happened to me in the past.”

You hadn’t realized just how much your plans align when you first nodded to this agreement. You think it adds a sense of reliability now. Both working towards the same plan, knowing that if you fail, the other’s fate is at stake as well. 

Before this, you didn’t know just how serious it was for Changmin– you didn’t know if he needed the money on reckless spending, on buying drinks and cigarettes to chase down his boredom, or if there was a greater sense of ironical responsibility behind it all. Knowing that there’s so much on the table, so much of both of your future’s that are at risk if you don’t try your hardest to make your lives better– because no one else in the whole world will help you, it seems– brings a greater sense of alliance hang in the air between the two of you.

Shared secrets, plans, view of life. Shared responsibilities, burdens, desperation. That bonds two people like nothing else does.

“You can count on me, Y/N,” Changmin hums, tone of voice barely louder than a whisper. Your eyes don’t meet in the confidentiality of it all, but your heart still squeezes on itself. “I’ll get us out of this town even if it’s the last thing I do.”

The low murmur of the school cafeteria lands into your ears as you stand in the line for food, Changmin’s tall figure in front of you turning to face you, an annoyed sigh heaving out of his throat. “Now I remember why I never fucking go to this place.”

“Oh, right,” you nod, shrugging to yourself as if to show your absolute fury with the fact that you’ve been standing in the line for more than 10 minutes now, a third of your lunch break already passing by like a flash, “it was never because I was too broke. The line was always the problem.”

The male in front of you snickers at your ironic remark. You’re convinced you could count the amount of times you’ve been to the school cafeteria to buy lunch on the fingers of one hand. Most of the time, you take whatever remains of food you can find at home with you. Lunch money is reserved for your little sister only– and even that is on special occasions. Usually, you try to buy her the cheapest things you can find at the store downtown– the retailed bread that’s too old to sell at original price now, but still fresh enough to eat– but when you figure you have enough money in the week to spend, you give her enough to buy lunch at school. For you, buying your own warm lunch at school feels like a holiday. You’ve lived through more Christmases than cafeteria lunches, you think.

“Starting to doubt if it’s even worth it anyway,” Changmin fusses, folding his hands at his chest. You don’t think you’ve ever met a more impatient person than him. If things take too long, he gives up on them– like the line in the grocery store the other day. You made the mistake of inviting him to buy groceries with you, but when he realized the self-checkout lines were too long, he just carried your groceries out without paying, grinning at your shocked face the moment you unsuspectedly got out of the store. ‘It’s okay to steal from big corporations,’ he justified. ‘They won’t feel the loss.’

“Changmin, this is my first time buying lunch this year,” you sigh, “have some patience. Of course it’s worth it– it’s a celebration of our hard work.”

“Does this feel satisfactory?” he doubts, pointing a thumb behind him to show the line in front of you two– which, just by the way, moved a ton, meaning it’s gonna be your turn soon. 

“Not yet,” you admit, chuckling to yourself, “but the feeling will come once I bite into the soggy, half-cold pizza. Trust,” you point a finger to him and poke him in his stomach, that has, just by the way, growled in hunger three times since you’ve taken your place in the line for food.

“Of course you chose to get lunch on pizza day…”

“What do you have me for?” you scoff. “I have some culture.”

“Says the person who hasn’t seen Train to Busan before. Girl, you’re the farthest thing from cultured, trust me.”

“You call Train to Busan our national treasure?” you ask, blinking at the boy in pure confusion. You don’t trust a man like Ji Changmin to be the film critic of modern age, to be fair, but you think even this opinion is quite far-stretched.

Changmin furrows his brows at you, clicking his tongue. “You’re only saying that because you haven’t seen the movie.”

“Well, I haven’t been given the opportunity to watch it, so I don’t see how that’s my problem.”

The line finally moves and lets you two get your lunch. The lady behind the counter looks even less pleasant than you remember her– with more gray hair and a more tired expression on her face– and the food isn’t much either even by looking at it. Still, you feel a sense of satisfaction run through your veins when you look at the sad-looking plate. You earned this pizza. This soggy, bad, a little shoe sole-looking pizza. You put a lot of effort into buying this plate, and although it doesn’t necessarily represent the determination, at least it represents the morality of your earned money– and you know what, at the end of the day, you think that’s fair.

Walking away to one of the empty tables in the cafeteria, carrying your tray in both of your hands and following Changmin’s lead, you feel your stomach churn at the image of the pizza on your plate. It sure doesn’t look great, but it looks edible– you still consider it to be a reward.

However, before you get a chance to sit down and bite into the meal, your side suddenly comes in contact with something firm, yet soft, the impact of the hit making you stumble and fall over to the hard linoleum. The tray of food you’ve had in your hands is knocked out of your grasp, falling to the ground with a loud noise, and the force in which you hit the floor makes your butt sting in pain. The moment comes by like a blur, and before you even get a chance to register what happened, a train of apologies lands into your ears.

“Oh my god, Y/N, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to–” a boy a little shorter than Changmin (that’s just standing by your side, looking a little taken-aback, but still uninterested in the commotion, not at all trying to help you out), stutters out. You recognise him to be your classmate Eric Sohn– one of the people you’ve never really spoken to before, because you had no reason to do so. He is a loud extrovert, a people person, a bundle of never ending energy. He’s charismatic, but not someone you would find yourself hanging out with (not that you really hang out with anyone other than the criminal by your side anyway)– and a little inkling in your brain tells you that one of the reasons for this fact is Eric’s high social status. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, offering you his hand to bring you back up to your feet.

Wincing in pain as you take his grasp and get back into a standing position, you wonder if he was running– there was no way the sheer force of him walking would send you to the ground. Once you take a closer look at the boy, you notice his blushing cheeks and an incredibly guilty look on his face, notifying you of the fact that you haven’t replied to him yet, still too shocked by the events. “I’m okay, yeah,” you nod, eyes shifting to the plate on the ground. It didn’t break, but your pizza slice is very visibly on the ground– and no matter how desperate you are for food right now, you consider it too contaminated to be eaten.

“I am so sorry, Y/N, I wasn’t looking where I was going– oh god, your uniform is all dirty,” he points to your white button-down, now stained with the last remains of the soup that was seemingly in one of the plates your classmate was carrying.

“It’s… it’s okay–”

“I’ll pay for you to get it dry cleaned!” he stammers, eyes wide and bangs falling into his eyes, the boyish, panicked aura around him making you feel kind of bad for him. Which is strange– you are the one in pain and without lunch now. Not him.

“No, really, it’s okay, Eric… It was an accident–”

“And your lunch is ruined! God,” he grunts, scrambling to pick up all the dishes from the floor, cleaning up the mess. “I’ll get you a new one. Just… wait here, I’ll be right back!” the boy assures you, running off with the trays and plates, aiming for the area designated for discarding them. 

Like in a trance, you take a seat at the table, following Changmin. Scratching the back of your neck, you sigh and aimlessly stare at your companion, watching as he eats his pizza. Casually speaking the fact into existence, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, the male decides to make you choke at his words. 

“You should get on that, Y/N,” he notes, snickering.

“Huh?” 

“You know what I mean. Man’s rich as fuck, Y/N,” he says as he swallows down the bite, shrugging. “He’d fit perfectly into your little plan,” Changmin schemes, pointing a finger at your face.

“Stop being ridiculous,” you grunt, “why would I do that? He doesn’t even like me, so–”

“Oh, as if,” Changmin rolls his eyes, speaking with his mouth full, “he looked at you as if you were Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N. He clearly has a crush on you. And, respectfully, any man would want to get with someone like you– why do you think our plan is working so well? You’re hot enough, that’s why,” he shrugs, making you blink at the male in surprise.

Hot enough? Did Ji Changmin just call you hot? You’d rather not focus on that part of the exchange.

“Shut up, Changmin,” you sigh, “besides, I’m not doing that to him.”

“Why not? I thought our motto was ‘eat the rich’, no?” 

“Yeah,” you grunt, nodding to the boy, tone of voice ironic, showing him just how stupid he sounds right in this moment, “but it’s ‘eat the icky old rich men’, not ‘eat unsuspecting, innocent rich’, Changmin. Got it?”

“You’re missing out on–”

“I said no,” you cut him off, pointing a finger right in the middle of his forehead. Something about your authoritative tone gets the point across, making the boy sigh.

“Jeez, okay, if you really say so…”

Opening your mouth to continue on with the sentiment, you’re quickly cut off by Eric’s voice coming from beside you, the boy suddenly appearing at your table. “Here,” he says, a bashful look on his face as he puts the tray in front of you, two slices of pizza and a box of orange juice settled on the red plastic dish, “I’m really sorry again! And…” he starts, scratching the back of his neck, “and here is my number, so if you want me to… uh… pay for the cleaning of that, or whatever, just… let me know, okay?” he smiles awkwardly, pointing to a piece of paper settled under the juice box, having you blink up at him in surprise.

Before you get a chance to protest, Eric pays you two his goodbyes and rushes out of the cafeteria, cheeks red and an expression a little alarmed. You’re not an expert in body language, but the more you think about it, the clearer it gets. 

Ji Changmin is right. Eric Sohn does clearly have a crush on you. 

If that even means anything…

The house is silent. Your naked feet clad through your room as you open your drawer, fingers reaching for the soft fabric of your socks. It’s gotten a bit chilly, so you automatically go and try to warm yourself up with one of your thick garments. Fingers unraveling the sock ball, prepared to find dollar bills inside– already knowing you’ll take a part of it and give it to your sister in the morning so she can get some lunch at school– a momentarily shock washes over you when you find the sock ball empty.

Confused, you furrow your brows and check the insides of the socks. You remember very clearly that you put some of your money into this specific pair just a few days ago. 

Or maybe you didn’t… You’ve been tired the last few days. You could be remembering it wrong. Maybe this particular sock ball didn’t have money in it in the first place.

Still, you reach for another sock ball, hands a little shaky as you look through it. When you notice the lack of bills inside, your heart starts hammering against your chest, sweat appearing on your forehead. Searching through another one and another one and another one, you find all sock balls empty. There is no money where you hid it. It’s all gone.

Thousands of won gone. Vanished. Nowhere to be found.

Where could they go? Who could’ve taken them? 

In the few seconds that pass before the fact that all of your money is nowhere to be seen fully settles into your brain, your feet react on themselves and drag you out of the comfort of your room, making you jog downstairs. Reaching the living room, finding your mother laying on the sofa with a bottle of rum next to her on the ground, you feel the amount of patience you’ve had with her slowly overflowing, frustration taking its deserved place in your body as you scream at her sleeping figure.

“Did you take my money?” you yell, watching as your mother slowly opens her eyes at you and blinks in confusion, the alcohol haze around her stinking and making you sick to your stomach. The woman looks at you with zero ounces of sympathy behind her eyes, no words escaping from between her lips as she continues to wordlessly stare at you.

“Mum! Did you take my money?” you scream, clenching your hands into a fist, chewing on your bottom lip in frustration.

“I needed the money,” she says, a groggy voice cutting through the silent house.

Running your hand through your hair, an amused chuckle leaves your throat. “Did you use it all? Is it all gone?”

“I needed it,” she only adds, turning on her side and proceeding to ignore you, which makes fury hammer against your chest with more force than ever before.

“You needed the money. You needed it,” you laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “For what, mum? You needed the money to give to Aerin so she could have lunch? You needed the money to buy groceries? To pay for the bills when a man comes to our house and tells me we haven’t paid enough for our electricity bill? You needed the money for all of that, right?” you chuckle, frustration making you kick your foot against the side of the couch. 

“Or did you need the money to buy alcohol, mum? Is that what you needed it for? Is that more important?” you bite, watching as your mother looks at you with stern eyes, the words finally entering her bubble and getting to her heart.

“Don’t speak to me like that. I am your mother.”

“You’re only my mother when you want to scold me!” you yell back, your words resonating through the silence. “Why won’t you be my mother when I need to feed my sister? When I need to take care of the house? Why aren’t you my mother when I need you?!” you scream, a sob involuntarily dragging out of your throat as you finally verbalize the words you’ve been biting back since this whole situation arised. 

“I brought you to this life. I raised you!” she screams back, merciless words stabbing you in the back like daggers coming for your heart. “So when I say I needed the money, I have every right to take it!”

“Do you?!” you argue. “Do you. Did you earn that money, mum? Because the last time I checked, you got fired and the only person trying to keep this family afloat is me!” you scream, watching as your mother sits up in her place, a tired sigh escaping her throat.

“Don’t you dare yell at me!” she gestures with her hand. 

“Well, then don’t take what’s not yours! Because now, I’ll have to work my ass of to get all of that back, because you won’t try to get your fucking life together–”

“Don’t swear at me,” your mother drags out, tone of voice stone cold and serious. It sends chills down your spine, a teardrop trail down your cheekbone and towards your jaw. You have a staring contest with your mother, one in which you question just how much impact your argument has on her– if she recognises the fury and anger and translates it as grief, just like your insides have been doing for so long now. 

Behind her glossy eyes, there’s not much for you to read, though. You lost that ability a long time ago. It’s one of the things you mourn the most.

“Y/N?” you hear a small voice call from behind you. It has you snap your head around and watch your sister shrinking away in the doorway behind you, holding on to the wall. Aerin’s eyes are glossy and scared, shaking from you to your mother, her little face morphed in anxiety as she chews on her bottom lip in nerves.

That has your fury dissolving– at least on the outside. You can’t afford to fail at protecting your sister from everything. Wiping your own tears harshly, you clear your throat and move to her hunched-over body, placing a comforting palm on her back, leading her upstairs to her bedroom.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” you hum groggily, sniffling on your way to the top of the stairs, “it’s okay. Me and mum just didn’t… we had a bit of an argument, but it’s nothing to worry about.”

As you cover up your sister with the duvet on her bed, she looks at you with watery eyes, a little voice shaking as she inquires. “We don’t have money?”

“Of course we do, dummy,” you snicker, shaking your head. “We do. Don’t you worry, Aerin-ie. I’ll take care of everything, yeah? Get those worries out of your head.”

“But you said–”

“Let the adults deal with this, yeah? It’s gonna be fine.”

“But you’re not even an adult yet,” Aerin furrows her brows, restless eyes not closing as she tries to wrap her head around the situation. No child ever should worry about things like this. And she’s right– you’re not an adult yet either, but as the older one of you, you think it’s your responsibility to take care of things. Just because you can’t afford to not worry about your situation doesn’t mean you will let your sister down and drag her with you.

“That’s right,” you sniffle, laughing airly as you rub her upper arm through the fabric of the duvet, “so that means I can still share a bed with you, yeah?” you force a smile to your lips, watching as your sister nods and scoots over in her place, letting you hug her from the side and snuggle into the warmth of her sheets.

“Everything will be alright,” you whisper into her ear, trying hard to provide her head with some distraction.

It’s kind of ironic, if you really think about it. Both of your parents failed you, but you were only truly hit with the reality of your mother’s betrayal. Who is your father if not the first man to ever disappoint you, right? You came to peace with the fact a few weeks after he left for good– you thought you didn’t need him. You could be good without him.

It seems like your mother needed him more than anything, though. Sometimes, you wish she chose her children instead.

Holding your little sister to your chest, you decide to do everything to protect her. You’d do anything it takes if it means she won’t have to worry about her future. If that’s your responsibility, then so be it– you are more than willing to carry it.

“I don’t think this looks right,” you mumble as you stare at your reflection in the mirror, furrowed eyebrows on full display as the girl staring back at you doesn’t look half similar to how she usually appears. 

You’re wearing a skirt you bought from your savings last month– wanting to treat yourself to something nice– and a cropped shirt that shoves a trace of your skin in the midriff. You’re wearing your old shoes that admittedly throw off the whole look a little– but you don’t have anything else to wear, so that’s what you’re going with. The outfit wouldn’t be the strangest thing about your appearance today– although you’re not the one to wear skirts casually, with the only exception being your school uniform.

The thing that is throwing you off the most about your apparel is the coat of makeup on your face. You and Changmin walked into a drugstore after your classes were over, trying your hardest to make you look the most enchanting you can. You did your makeup with the testers, going through three different lipstick choices before your companion was satisfied, and only when you finally escaped the fluorescent lights of the store and looked at yourself in the daylight is when you realize just how different your face looks to its usual.

“It does,” Changmin shakes his head, standing up from his place on your bed and walking over to your figure, prompting a finger below your chin to angle your head a little, staring at you from up close. His eyes glaze over your skin, making your throat dry out from being so closely examined. “You look different, but it doesn’t look bad.”

“It doesn’t look good either,” you sigh, escaping his gaze and turning around in your place, watching yourself in the mirror once again. The male leans against the desk behind him, communicating from your behind.

A sigh escapes Changmin’s throat at your words, rolling his eyes. “Be serious for once. You look good.”

“My face is all cakey,” you frown.

“You only notice when you see it from up close,” Changmin says, “and I don’t think Eric’s gonna look at you from up close. He’d shit his pants.”

“You’re not helping.”

“That’s because you won’t let me help,” he grunts. “No matter how many times I tell you that you look good won’t change the fact that you won’t admit it to yourself.”

“I don’t look like myself.”

“You do!” he runs his hands through his hair, shaking his head in frustration. “You always look pretty, it’s just… today you look like you put more effort into your appearance,” Changmin huffs, his voice growing a little more quiet at the end of the sentence. Your eyes meet with his in the full-length mirror, watching as the tips of the boy’s ears tint a pink hue, the warmth spreading to his cheeks at the compliment that just so casually slipped through his lips. “Which– which is good, because you wanna look like you put effort into a date with a rich boy, y’know?” he adds, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

His words comfort you a bit. Trying hard not to meet his gaze in the mirror– because you suddenly feel a bit bashful under his gaze– you nod to yourself and focus on the hem of your skirt for the thousandth time, making sure it fits right against your skin. “How does one act on a date? I’ve never been on one.”

“You go on dates every week,” Changmin snickers.

“I meant real dates. The dates you have with people your age,” you roll your eyes, watching as the boy cheeses and shrugs to himself.

“Well,” he starts, “he already likes you. Like, a lot. So making him fall for you won’t be a problem, because I’m quite certain it already happened.”

His words have you feeling a little bad for Eric Sohn. He’s just an unsuspecting teenager that just so happens to be born into a rich family. He likes you– quite obviously so– and you’re going to break all the trust he has in you and use him for your own personal gain. It’s not morally good to do anything like this. You should be ashamed of yourself.

But then again, you think of all the paths you have to take just to survive. You lost a lot of money, and you need to get it back again– and you need to do it fast. 

There’s no time for you to feel bad for Eric. You have to think of your sister first.

“I think you just have to pretend you like him back. Like… listen to him when he talks about boring stuff. Smile a lot– he’ll go crazy over your smile. Don’t be too touchy on the first date, or else it would come off as you being too eager, but if you manage to get a casual touch in without being too clingy, that’s bonus points,” Changmin hums, listing off all advice he can think of.

“Just be yourself, honestly. You have the guy wrapped around your finger anyway,” Changmin shrugs. “Let him pay for everything. Abuse the power you hold, Y/L/N.”

Nodding to yourself, you take a mental note of everything Changmin told you. “I don’t think it’s really fair to him, still.”

“Well, when was ever life fair to you?” he asks, tone of voice suddenly more sincere, more tender than the usual way he speaks to you. It has your eyes meeting again in the mirror, an unspoken understatement making you feel a tinge of bittersweetness in your insides, your gaze communicating the words you can’t quite materialize into existence.

The eye contact is broken as the male stands up from his place and pokes your exposed midriff with his finger, laughing at seeing you squirm before he dives into your bed sheets once again, a muffled yell sent your way from the cushion of your pillow.

“Go get him, tiger!”

“Why don’t we finish this at my place?” the man– you think his name was Baekho– asks you with a suggestive smile on his face after he pays for your dinner. 

This man was particularly hard to get to. He seemed smarter than the others– keeping his belongings close to himself, paying more attention to his surroundings. You and Changmin didn’t manage to go along with your initial plan, which made you tense on the inside as it was– his suggestion only made your heart drum harder against your ribcage, the self-preservation instinct within you telling you to run.

“I am actually not really feeling well, so I’ll head home,” you nod, a stern smile fighting its place onto your lips. 

“Don’t be silly,” the male opposes, shaking his head at you like you would at a child when it does something wrong and you can’t believe a human like that will someday grow into a fully functioning adult, “the night is still young, baby.”

Standing up from your place, following his motions, you turn your head sharply around and send a look full of worry to your companion. Changmin raises his eyebrows at you in question, but for the sake of your secrecy, you don’t pay him much of an answer in fear of where an explicit call for help would lead you. 

“Thank you so much for the dinner, really,” you try to seem welcoming, you try to play it off and put up a nonchalant facade, smiling at the man that towers over you, “but I really should get going.”

“Let me give you a ride home, then,” he insists, glazing your elbow with his hand, making you shudder at the action, acid hunting your tongue.

“That won’t be necessary, I don’t live far–”

“Oh, don’t be stupid. Let me show you my car,” the male grunts, harshly gripping your elbow and dragging you away from the restaurant.

One of the biggest mistakes you made today was the fact that you chose to meet with this man in the evening. Most of the dates you go on happen in the afternoon, providing you with more sense of safety– you should’ve known that this gathering would end differently to all the other ones you’ve been to. You get dragged away into one of the poorly-lit alleys, no cars in sight, and you swear you can feel the imprint of his hand burning on your skin.

“Please, let me go so I can–”

“So you think you can just go on a date with someone like me, bribe me to buy you dinner, and then leave me nothing in return? That’s not how it works around here, sweetheart,” the male grits through his teeth, dragging you along the alley despite you trying to wrestle your way out of his grip.

He’s stronger than you, and he’s taking that into advantage. The danger in your chest hammers stronger than any time before, alerting you of the fact that if a miracle doesn’t happen, you’re going to either die tonight, or be marked by the events of this date forever. Oh, what a foolish idea it was to go along with this. You should’ve known this was bound to end in a disaster from how well it’s been going since the start.

Trying to kick around in the male’s grip, huffing and screaming out– but knowing nobody’s going to hear you in the buzz of the nightlife– you gulp on nothing and try to use all your adrenaline for getting yourself out of the situation. 

“Stop squirming, you know it’s not going to help you–” 

The male suddenly grunts, a wince of pain flashing through his eyes. 

A miracle happens. Ji Changmin with his mask pulled up and his cap down low shielding his face appears in your point of vision, a bloody knife in his hand. When your shaky pupils look around, taking in your surroundings, you notice the man crouching down and holding his leg, growling like a wounded animal. 

Too shocked to do anything yourself, you let Changmin drag you behind him with his arm, shielding you from the man. You faintly notice him launching after your companion, but before he has a chance to fight with him, Changmin puts the knife up, threatening the male. You haven’t seen him fight anyone before– only heard of the quarrels he’s gotten into in the foster home or on the streets– but something about his swift movements and the kicks aimed at your attacker makes you feel a little safer, a tinge of relief flowing through your veins. He looks like he knows what he’s doing. He seems to have the situation at least partially under his control.

“Run!” you hear Changmin yell at you, only paying you attention for a spare second as he looks at you over his shoulder. 

You do as you’re told, but still keep looking back at your savior, watching as he kicks the man into his crotch area and slices the knife against the skin of his upper hand before he stabs him again, the pained groans echoing against the walls of the alleyway. There’s something terrifying about Changmin’s skills, leaving you wondering where he learned all of this– but before you get a chance to ponder on the origins of his self-defense skills any further, you hear his voice calling for the male.

“Don’t follow us, or this will end up worse,” he growls, still threatening the male with the pocket knife. “Try to go after us and I’ll tell the police you’re a pedophile– she’s only 17. You heard me?”

When the male doesn’t give him a reply, Changmin lets out a satisfied snicker. “That’s what I thought.”

Changmin runs up to you and drags you by your hand, tugging you out of the alleyway. The bloody knife is quickly hidden in his pocket as you charge through the streets, making sure you’re as far away from the man as possible. You stumble a little over your feet, making Changmin hold onto your hand a little stronger, dragging you behind a corner of a 24/7 bistro on the end of the street two blocks away, hiding you from the sight of the main road by the shade behind the building.

“Shit, are you okay?” he asks, looking you over with examining eyes. His shaky fingers take ahold of your chin, turning your face around to see any possible damage, letting go only when he’s sure there are no bruises on your cheeks, gripping your shoulders instead, breathing heavily. “Fuck. I’m so sorry,” he sighs out, his composure faltering a little, the contrast between him from a few minutes ago to now so big it leaves you weak in your knees.

“I’m okay,” you nod, barely registering the shakiness of your own voice.

The words have him tugging you close to him, arms wrapping around your body. He holds you as if he’s making sure you’re still there, all intact and alive, a hand sneaking into your hair petting it in an affectionate act you’ve never received from the male in the months you’ve spent working with him. “I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault,” you choke out. The previous sense of danger slowly evaporates out of you, heart relaxing, your brain getting the signal that you’re finally safe and sound. Closing your eyes for a minute, you allow yourself to mold against his figure, foolishly adjusting to the way his grip around you brings you a sense of newly found serenity and calm.

“Kinda is. We’re never doing this again,” he says, and if you tune in with his body hard enough, you feel a slight tremble of his arms. 

“It’s fine, we can–”

“No,” he sighs, “there’s other ways. Safer ones.”

And it’s kind of strange– the way Ji Changmin demonstrates that your safety matters to him more than the money gain you’ve been both chasing after for the past few months. The things you two do to get by are never morally right and never the safest options, but when he lets go of you and holds his face in his hands before giving you a head pat, you know what he means: he’ll rather take the harder way than to leave you so vulnerable ever again.

Your shoes get discarded at the doorstep and your feet are quickly put into the guest slippers that reminds you too much of the ones you see in fancy hotels on the TV– the white, thin footwear you wear only to be polite, since they do nothing to keep your feet comfortable or warm, your heels thudding against the floor with as much force they would’ve if you wore only your socks. Eric takes off your coat and hangs it in the hall, like the true gentleman he was raised to be, and leads you into the house.

The ceilings are high, walls are various shades of white and cream, floors either mirror-like marble or expensive, hard wood. The whole house looks like it was taken out of a furniture catalog or made for one, everything fitting together in a simple, yet polished beauty. The decorations are simple and sleek, but they still make the whole place look put together. The floors are clean, not a speck of dust on either of the bookshelves you pass when the boy leads you into the common area, not a single mug misplaced or a dish forgotten in the sink. The air is fresh in the spacious rooms, yet it’s still quite overbearing, not letting you breathe.

“Do you want anything to drink?” he asks, almost a little nervously.

“Just water is fine, thank you,” you smile, agreeing. Your throat is suddenly dry, almost begging for the cold liquid to splash down and hydrate it a bit before you completely choke out.

Eric nods, leaving you alone in the living room. The big plasma TV seems to be framed against the wall, like an artwork in the gallery, and although it still gets a look full of awe out of you, you find the sentiment a bit ridiculous to look at. You feel like you’re in the Truman show– everyone’s watching your reactions through the camera, laughing at the fact that this is the first time you’ve set your foot into a place filled with so many expensive things, making you scared to even move in fears of breaking something more than your yearly rent. You must look like a deer in the headlights, clueless and shocked at the state of your surroundings, and it suddenly makes you self conscious as you decide to walk around the room and focus on what you’re here for– the plan.

Eyes scanning the contents of vitrines, the crystal glasses and expensive wine bottles, you try hard to mentally calculate the worth of everything in the house– you find yourself failing, though, since you can’t even tell just how much each thing costs, too far out of your league to even assume the price tag. There’s a particular display of jewelry you recognise from back when you worked in the store, scoffing when you add up the prices of the chains you once sold to an old man wanting a gift for his wife’s birthday– something about the number of digits making you feel just the tiniest bit infuriated.

How come some people have so much, yet you have so little? What makes them deserve it and makes you work tirelessly to afford a living? Why can they afford vacations in Greece and Dubai, yet you keep gluing together the last remains of your money to buy groceries for your sister?

It’s ridiculous. It’s frustrating.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you move towards a wall filled with pictures– each framed in a white or silver frame so they fit together like a jigsaw puzzle for your eyes, aesthetically pleasing each guest that’s ever crossed the threshold of the house– gazing at the memories captured on the photos. 

You recognise the little boy on all of them to be Eric. There’s a girl, a few years older than him, but undoubtedly his sister, with her arm around his shoulders, a silly smile plastered on both of their faces so similar the resemblance is uncanny. There are a few pictures with all 4 of them on the wall as well, sun shining into their eyes as they all squint into the camera, posing in front of various monuments. A few of the mementos are from the beaches of Europe, some are from the hiking trails of Asia, and the one with Eric’s hair longer and in little curls, very obviously one of the most recent ones with how much he resembles the boy currently in the kitchen fetching you with a glass of water, standing on a surfboard, was taken in the waves of the american west coast. You remember him saying something about having family there, so it’s not unusual for him to visit often.

A knife laced with the green poison of jealousy cuts you somewhere into your abdomen. It’s not only the expensive luxuries he gets to experience that make you long for a life like his– it’s also the carelessness, the joy. It’s the care you see in his parents’ eyes on the pictures, the obvious love shared in the photographs– they’re taken not to boost their privilege, but to remember their happiest moments. You wish you had something like that. A functional family. One that cares for each other. One that doesn’t put obstacles under each other’s feet.

“Here you go,” Eric’s voice wakes you up from the slumber, making you jolt and take the glass of water he’s offering to you into your grasp, taking a sip.

“Thanks,” you nod, smiling. 

Watching Eric from under your eyelashes, you notice his eyes glazing the frames you’ve been focusing on before. Licking his lips, the boy speaks up with a voice laced with genuine absurdity, pointing towards the wall. 

“You must think this is just ridiculous,” he notes, scratching the back of his neck. Eric Sohn isn't stupid– although he grew up in luxury, he can still recognise the imbalance of resources the two of you have. You don’t know why he is being self-conscious about it, though.

“Not really,” you note, shrugging, “it’s just… quite unbelievable, to be fair.”

“Yeah,” he snickers, “we don’t really go on many vacations anymore, to be honest. We used to go on many when I was a kid,” he says, making you recognise the fact that most of the pictures did indeed look older– back from when Eric was younger. 

You never really went on vacations when you were little. There was always something that got into the way– your parents either had a fight just in the middle of the summer, or you simply didn’t have enough money to travel anywhere, since you were surviving from paycheck to paycheck. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you start to wonder about the difference it makes to miss something you once used to have, and the desire for something you never got to experience. Which one is worse? Or are they not really comparable at all?

“My dad started working much more, so he doesn’t really have time. My sister got married, so she has her own family to worry about,” he shrugs, trying hard to play it casual– somewhere in the depth of his dark orbs, though, you notice that he’s battling away the fact that it upsets him. “I was really close with my sister,” he chuckles, pointing towards one of the picture frames where she’s putting up a peace sign behind his head, photobombing their own picture together, “I miss her sometimes.”

The role of the older sister is perhaps the one you try your hardest to keep. Will your little sister miss you the same way Eric does now with his own sibling? Will it hurt her less or more? Will she resent you? You can’t imagine a world in which your sister hates you– do you choose to protect her always, or do you take a step forward so you can breathe too?

“Does she visit you at all?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he hums. “It’s just not the same. That’s alright, though,” he shrugs, pressing his lips together into a tight line, “little Eric had a very happy family, at least. Can’t complain about that.”

And when you lock eyes with him, the sympathy oozing into the spacious, silent, almost lonely-looking place, you recognize the reality of it all– that no matter how fortunate you are in life, no matter how much money you have, there will always be struggles. Life always has its way of finding your weak spots and hitting where it hurts, strangling you and leaving you breathless in the battle of it all. You either don’t go on vacations at all, or you once did and now you can’t– either way, it hurts to think of what ifs and to remind yourself of all that once was and is now wasted. 

For the first time since you met Eric Sohn, you start to see him as human. You start to see him as someone with his own life, his own emotions, his own struggles. 

Maybe Changmin was wrong to tell you to get closer with the male. Now, having the insight to his thoughts, having the image of his once so idyllic life that’s now so far away, lonely, makes it harder for you to think of what you’re supposed to do when the time comes– mercilessly, completely selfishly. 

You’re not so sure you can proceed with the plan anymore. 

You miscalculated your abilities.

“Do you really need to write it all down?” you squint at your companion, feeling at least a little comical when you watch him scribble down a list onto a lined sheet of paper, blue ink twinkling in the sun. 

“Yeah,” he nods, totally focused on the task at hand. “So we don’t miss out on any important information. Everything’s useful.”

A sigh leaves your mouth at that, making you shaking your head in disbelief. Changmin is currently laying on his stomach in the grass, not a picnic blanket in sight– just his bare shirt against the ground– and as you sit cross legged against the tree in the very corner of the park, enjoying the breeze playing with your hair, you start to wonder just how innocent and carefree you must look to the rest of the people. Just two friends enjoying their weekend in the park. Nothing else. No shady business going on– you promise!

“So you said there was a bunch of jewelry?” Changmin asks, tapping the glitter pen against his chin. You don’t really know where he came across one, but you don’t dare to ask. You know he was eyeing one of the fancy glitter gel pens in the dollar store when you last went to buy a notebook for class with him after school, so you guess you know the source of his newest shiny toy. He’s like a crow, you think. Both with the love for anything that glimmers and the love for stealing.

“Yeah,” you hum, “like at every rich person’s house,” you shrug, not really knowing what his deal was.

“Okay, good. Visible? Unprotected?”

“Are you asking if it was locked like in a jewelry store?” you snicker, rolling your eyes at him. “Because if so, the answer is no, Changmin. Who in their right mind has their personal belongings locked in their own home? Right. No one.”

“Just making sure. I don’t know how it works with rich people, I’ve never been one of those,” Changmin hums, not paying your sarcastic remarks much mind. “But this is good, it works in our favor. What other valuables have you laid your eyes upon during your visit?”

You try to think back to the day you went over to the Sohn’s mansion. You didn’t really see the majority of the house– since Eric didn’t give you a full tour and you didn’t really think it was appropriate to ask for one– so all you know about the stuff he has at home is from the living room, the entry hall and his bedroom. 

“A game console of some kind? I don’t know, dude…”

“A PS5?”

“God, I dunno,” you mumble, furrowing your brows at the boy. “Do I look like an expert?”

“Right,” he sighs, licking his lips. “Well, we can only assume. Next?” 

His glitter pen scribbles the words ‘PS5 (?)’ into the notepad right below the words ‘expensive jewelry’, making you chuckle. You really don’t know what he’s trying to achieve over here– well, the main goal is clear, you’d say– you just don’t really know why he has to have a complete list. It’s not like you’re going to rob his house of everything. You don’t have the capacity to do all that.

“Well, I don’t know. I doubt you want me to carry out his plasma TV or something, so I think this is all I can really give you right now,” you mumble, shrugging. “As if this whole thing isn’t totally immoral in the first place.”

“Y/N, sweetie, I told you to forget about morals long ago.”

“Not everyone is morally gray by default, Changminnie. It takes a while to recalibrate,” you say, rolling your eyes at his phlegmatism. If only you could live your life with Ji Changmin’s mindset. You bet handling a lot of things would be much easier.

Eyes searching through the trees and the greenery, you take a mental note of your sister’s whereabouts. You’re glad you were finally able to take her out of the house. Her friends invited her out, and although it’s only in the neighborhood, you’re much happier with keeping an eye on her, just in case. You’re much more concerned with safety of your little sister ever since you came in contact with breaking the law– you realized just how many people with bad intentions are on the planet, and although you’re not one of the people engaging in child trafficking, something about tasting danger on your tongue makes you feel more cautious when it comes to Aerin’s safety.

She is currently laughing at something with her friends before she runs off, seemingly playing tag. The park is big enough for the girls to roam around without getting on the road, and it’s good for her to get some physical activity in. Shifting your attention back to Changmin, noticing him doodling shapes in the corners of his notebook, your mind settles back into conversation with him.

“Or maybe you’re just starting to like your boyfriend a little too much,” Changmin scoffs, making you furrow your brows in confusion.

“I don’t think me not feeling 100% happy with planning to rob someone I know is the cause of me suddenly being in love with my fake boyfriend,” you note, “that’s just, y’know. Being a human being with basic empathy.”

“Fake boyfriend?” Changmin repeats, completely disregarding the rest of your sentence.

“Well, it’s not exactly real, is it?” you laugh, a hint of discomfort on your tongue. “Makes me feel kinda bad, but–”

“So you’re dating?”

Blinking once, then twice at the boy in front of you, you scratch the back of your neck in nerves. “Is that not what you wanted me to do?”

“No, it is, it’s just… is it, y’know, official?”

“Define official.”

“Does he call you his girlfriend?” 

Plucking a stem of grass from the ground, twirling it around in your fingers– because looking into Changmin’s eyes is suddenly too unbearable in this situation– you shrug. “Sometimes.”

“Ah,” the male nods, an unreadable expression sitting at his face. “So it’s pretty official, then.”

Not really giving him an answer to this argument– both because you’re suddenly a bit embarrassed, cheeks burning and ears ringing (even though you really don’t know what made you have this reaction, since you have no romantic feelings to your current significant other) and because you don’t really know what to say– you only chew on the inside of your cheek, examining the greenery in between your pointer and your thumb.

“Have you two kissed already?” Changmin asks, quite confidentially, making you kick him in the side of his thigh.

“God,” you sigh out, shaking your head. “No!”

The male in front of you clicks his tongue, a grin spreading over his features. There’s a boyish sparkle behind his eye, his expression not understandable to you, making your insides squeeze in a weird tinge of anxiety. “What?” you ask, but get no reply– just a soft laugh coming out of his throat, battling its way to your heartstrings.

“Nothing.”

“Changmin! What’s so funny?” you ask, hiding your cheeks into the palms of your hands. “It’s just– I don’t wanna do it if I don’t like him like that, y’know? It’s not as embarrassing as you make it to be–”

“Not for you, that is.”

“Changmin!”

“What?” he asks, the dimple on his cheek at full display when he faces you, clearly amused at your reaction. “Look, it’s just that if it was me–”

“Changminnie! Changminnie!” a high-pitched, female voice cuts your friend off, making both of you turn your heads towards the source currently running to you at full speed, laughter escaping your little sister’s throat.

“I bet you can’t catch me!” Aerin says, touching your friend by his shoulder to tag him into the game before she runs off, the rest of her friends looking behind their backs and watching as he scrambles up from his lying position, a smile of a beaming sun plastered onto his face.

You never learn what Changmin wanted to tell you that day. You don’t ask later– you forget, not really deeming the information as that important. The memory you have of the afternoon spent in the park is mostly the image of your friend running after your sister, the laughter of the little girl resonating through your brain like a distant taste of childhood you wish to visit.

Ji Changmin is a fast runner, but he makes sure to play according to the girls’ pace. His voice is cheerful as he taunts them, calling after them in the spacious park, and when he looks back over his shoulder at you, eyes locking, your heart is left soaring in your chest before an invisible hand pierces through your lungs and takes the muscle into its hold, as if to offer it to him.

You wish to make your sister’s laugh last forever. You hope to make her joy prominent in the memories of her childhood. You pray she never turns bitter.

And when one of the girls starts chasing after Changmin, her legs half as long as the boy’s, pace slower and muscles more tired, you watch the boy theatrically trip and fall to the ground, shielding his fall with his outstretched arms. The girls laugh as he loses the game, getting tagged, and after the male almost comically slowly gathers back up to his feet again, a thought flashes through your brain– how amazing life would be if it was just you three in it– just you, Aerin and Changmin, spending your afternoons together, free of any trouble.

How happy life would be if every afternoon went like this. How good life would be if you spent days together just like this, like family. 

For the first time since your decision, you start to doubt your life plan. How can you leave a fantasy like this behind? 

How could you ever leave your little sister alone?

“It’s happening soon, right?” Changmin asks, the two of you sitting next to each other on the bus stop. Changmin sometimes takes the bus back to the foster home after class when neither of you have plans, but due to your poor time management skills and awfully slow pace of packing your things up, it just so happened that the poor boy missed the earlier bus– which you tried to repay him for with offering him both your chocolate milk and your time as you stayed with him on the bus stop and waited for the nearest bus to the other side of the town with him.

“Hm?” you ask, a little confused at first. Then, it dawns on you. “Ah. Yeah, I guess.”

Changmin’s voice is soft, almost careful when he talks about the topic. You don’t often discuss your plan out loud together. It happens once a fortnight– after sealing the deal in the school yard that day, there always was a feeling of mutual understanding hanging over the two of you that said that even though it’s the reality you’re striding towards, you don’t really mention it out loud. As if not to jinx it. 

Or maybe, the both of you just don’t really want to discuss something so difficult. It’s easier to prepare for it when you pretend it’s easy. When you don’t open up about just how scared the both of you clearly are.

“Are you… are you ready?” he asks, making you look at him with confused eyes, a hearty chuckle escaping your throat.

“As ready as I’ll ever be– which actually, just for the record, means no,” you say, watching as your companion hums and nods to himself, head clearly full of thoughts he’s a little afraid to say out loud. 

You don’t blame him. Not at all, actually. Your own mind is full of conflicting thoughts and feelings, a battle of morality and selfish desire making a pit open in your stomach every time you think of the next step of your little plan. A part of you desperately needs to leave, to settle things once and for all, but another part of you is still hesitant. Maybe there’s another way. Maybe you could do something about it. Maybe you could try contacting your father again– one more call left to be sent into the voicemail really won’t hurt you right now.

You’ve been thinking a lot of similar things lately. Questioning the nature of your plan. Wondering if you’ll succeed, if it’s all worth it.

You don’t really talk about it, though. Not until now. You don’t know what gets you so weak and fragile. 

“What if… what if there’s another way?” you ask, watching as the boy’s head spins to face you, eyes glossy as they stare back to yours.

“Hm?” he seems confused. “What do you mean?”

A little sigh escapes your throat at that, your head turning so you face the road again. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you shrug. “I was just… I was just thinking, like… what if there’s a way for me to do all of this without leaving? Y’know, I could just…” you trail off, not really finishing your sentence. Truth is, you don’t really know where you were going with that statement either. Maybe you just said it out loud in hopes that Changmin would finish it and figure it out for you, offer you a different perspective, make a new plan– a plan where neither of you leave, a plan where neither of you have to cut ties with everything you know back home.

That’s a foolish thought, though. “What? Get 20 million won in a month a different way? A legal one? You’re gonna get another loan, or something?” Changmin chuckles, not really taking you seriously. Or maybe he is– you just feel a bit childish for having such unrealistic views.

“I don’t know,” you say, jaw clenching. “Maybe I could get another job, and start going on those dates again, and–”

“Yeah, no,” Changmin cuts you off, a huff escaping his lungs. “I know it’s hard, Y/N, but this is all you can do. This is the last resolution, or else you’re gonna lose your house, your mum will be homeless, and you two with Aerin will either end up with your dad– which is unlikely, from what you’ve told me– or at the foster home. If you’re lucky, maybe they’ll put you both to the same one–”

Something about his words feels like daggers are thrown into your skin. Like poison is on his tongue and you’re getting burned with each honest sentence that is uttered out your way. The truth hurts, it makes you feel like he’s only adding salt to an open wound, and it’s not fair of you to react that way– you’re certainly aware– but you can’t help it. The world is toppling over onto you, the weight is all on your shoulders, and you feel totally, utterly helpless. You feel overwhelmed. You feel tired.

“Okay, I get it,” you cut him off, shaking your head in a dismissive way and rolling your eyes at the boy. “It’s just that I don’t really like the thought of doing illegal stuff just to survive, y’know? It’s not exactly easy to steal and do all of this shit, and then leave. I know it must seem fun to you, since–”

“Fun?” Changmin cuts you off. A heartbeat of silence passes by between the two of you, and suddenly, you know you’ve crossed the line. You and Changmin can tell each other many things, but this time, you sound a lot like the people judging him on the street. You sound a lot like the police officers always letting him off without punishment– he’s a kid from the foster home. He does this stuff for attention, doesn’t he? For fun. For satisfaction. He doesn’t know any better– that’s how he was raised. Right?

“Fun,” he repeats. “You think I’m doing this for fun, huh?” he chuckles. You notice his knee bumping up and down in the periphery of your vision, a nervous action just begging to tick you off. “That’s not exactly something I expected you to say, but okay–”

“Well, that’s how we fucking ended up here in the first place, didn’t we?”

“I’ve been doing this for you!” he spits, voice rising and making you flinch. “For you, and for me. For our fucking futures,” he says. You refuse to look at him even when he stands up from his place on the bench, situating his figure in front of your body still hunched up on the hard wood. “I’ve been doing this for the both of us, because we deserve a better life than this, Y/N.”

“A better future?” you laugh, bitterness dripping off your tongue. “In hiding. On a run.”

“Do you prefer being homeless? Being thrown into the foster home for a few days before you age out of the system and your little sister is left there with the other kids? Kids like me?” he says mercilessly, only adding gas to the fire. 

“You know that’s not what I meant–”

“Oh, trust me, Y/N, I know,” he says, irony slipping through his words. “You’re just saying this because you’re scared. Because you feel selfish–”

“And isn’t it true, Changmin? Isn’t selfish what we both are?” you say, your eyes finally meeting with the boy’s. His hair is disheveled as if he’s been running his hands through it in frustration, eyebrows furrowed and a displeased expression is sitting at his features. On most days, Ji Changmin looks like a cunning fox– full of mischief, full of secrets. Now, though, it’s like you see right through him. Somewhere along the way, you feel like you’re the one that started building up a wall in the middle of this argument. “How could I ever just leave my sister there? You could never understand–”

“I can’t, huh?” he says, nothing close to the gentle softness in his voice now, all disappearing from when he spoke to you just a few minutes ago. His voice is harsh, hoarse, even, something behind his eyes shifting in the middle of the fight. “Why? Because I don’t have siblings? Because I have nothing to lose?”

“You wouldn’t know how leaving someone behind feels,” you let out, but even as you’re saying it, you feel immediately disgusted with yourself. How could you ever say this to his face? 

Changmin looks like he was slapped in his face. You swear he winces at your words, bottom lip trapped between his lips as he stares you down. The corners of your eyes start burning like there’s been acid poured into your sockets, hands trembling in the reality of your words. The boy in front of you nods to himself, harshly breathing in.

“I wouldn’t know how leaving someone behind feels,” he repeats, nodding to himself. “Yeah. You’re right. Because I don’t have anyone,” he admits. “I don’t have siblings like you do. I never met my parents, because they never gave a shit about me enough to keep me in their lives in the first place. Nobody fucking cares at the foster home, because I can’t seem to make meaningful connections with anyone. And you know what, yeah. It’s just so easy for me, because there’s no one here who would give a single flying fuck if I leave, because they don’t even really care if I’m alive or dead.”

“Changmin–”

“Just say it, Y/N. Say nobody cares,” he says, eyes stone cold, an avalanche taking place in your lungs. It’s hard to breathe and your eyes are hazy, fists crawling in themselves as you relish in the catastrophe you’ve caused.

“That’s not what I–”

“And you know what? Maybe you’re right, Y/N. I have nothing to lose, I am not leaving anyone behind, I wouldn’t know how it feels. Call me selfish, for all you like. Call me selfish for wanting something for myself, for wanting to leave this town and start over somewhere new. I don’t care. I’m doing this for myself,” he says, the noise of an approaching car landing in your ears through the sound of his words. “But don’t you fucking dare give up on your future just because you feel guilty. Don’t you dare call yourself selfish when you’re doing everything you can to keep the rest of your family afloat. Don’t call yourself selfish when you’re paying back a loan that isn’t yours and taking care of your sister’s future by doing all of this alone, yeah?”

A hot trail of liquid falls down your cheek as you hear the bus approaching the stop. Taking a shaky breath in, you open your mouth to say something– anything– but no words come out.

“And I know it’s hard for you. I know you’re tired, I know you’re exhausted and I know you’re scared and god do I wish I could make this easier for you, but Y/N, don’t you ever say it’s fun or easy for me, when I’ve been putting everything on line trying to help you. To help us.”

The bus door opens. Like a child that’s being scolded, you refuse to meet his eye. There’s shame flowing through your veins, embarrassment creeping up your neck. It feels like you betrayed him. Like you cut right where it hurts, tried to use everything you had on him against him, hitting all his weak spots– all because you were suddenly too prideful to admit to yourself that you’re scared and wallowing in guilt. It’s hard to bear the weight alone. You wish you could make Changmin feel guilty. 

That’s something he won’t understand. It doesn’t make it easier for him, though. He was right– you could never do any of this differently. You could also never do any of this alone. 

“And if you still think it’s selfish, then, well,” you hear him sigh, “I think it’s okay to be selfish sometimes. I think it’s fair of you to be selfish right now,” he says, the words both feeling like a hug and a punch to your sternum, leaving you cut open in the empty road.

“I’ll see you on Monday.”

The bus drives off, the boy’s figure peeling itself off your proximity, entering the other side of the town. You sit at the bus stop for a long while after, aggressively wiping your tears away with the back of your palm, embarrassed to cause such a scene. You never meant to fight with him. You never meant to act like a toddler, playing the victim in a situation that you sadly cannot change, in a situation you unfortunately cannot solve in any better way. 

Ji Changmin is the only person you can lean on in this situation. You feel bad for using him as your punching bag. You’re deeply flawed to take it out on him. 

In the silence of the street, the thought hits you with full force, making your knees weak and your throat dry up like the desert, a dagger straight through your heart as you realize you’re the only person Changmin would be leaving behind. 

And after everything you two went through together, he would never do such a thing. Ji Changmin will hold on to you like a lifeline, because you’re everything he’s got– everything he keeps fighting for. He could give up on everything, had you not been on board. 

He could never give up on you, though.

Warm sunlight peeks through the windows as you sit in silence side by side, neither of you daring to say anything, as if you were scared to break the atmosphere hanging over the calm library. You and Changmin haven’t talked to each other much the whole day, something in the air remaining tense and strained after your previous argument on Friday, but you still tagged along with him when he asked you if you wanted to do homework with him in the library. This is the first time you see your companion doing any school work at all, so you figure you don’t want to pass out on the revolutionary moment– and also, you still feel kind of bad about your latest interaction. You take the fact that he invited you to spend more time with him as a good sign, though. 

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you decide to break the bubble and move a little in your place, reaching for something inside of your bag. Changmin promptly ignores your movements, but when a carton of banana milk appears in his vision, he pays you a glance. 

You’re too prideful to say sorry with words. You don’t want to mention it and go back to the topic you were discussing, much preferring to let things be the way they were before you had an emotional outburst at the bus stop. While you can’t say you aren’t glad that the words are now out in the open, the two of you are more vulnerable in front of each other than ever, you really don’t think you can handle another argument. Some things are better left unsaid. Ignored. There was mutual understanding over you two anyway– there was no use saying those things out loud.

And when you move the banana milk closer to Changmin’s elbow resting on the table with a push of your pointer finger across the dark-wooden desk, you see his eyes softening. He understands, taking the drink into his hand and tearing the plastic off the straw, sucking in the beverage. Ji Changmin accepted your offering, and somehow, you feel like there was some weight lifted off your shoulders, a force unsqueezing your heart. 

“You’re not working on your homework?” he asks, voice hushed in the silent library.

“No,” you shake your head, deciding to lean over the desk and rest your weight on your folded arms, prepping yourself into a comfortable napping position. “I’ll just borrow your notebook before class and copy it.”

“Is this you finally admitting that I’m smarter than you?” he teases, shaking his head at your prompt laziness.

“If that helps you sleep at night,” you shrug. 

Changmin snickers at your reply, eyes hovering over you for a few seconds as you get comfortable next to him. He takes another sip of the banana milk before he offers the drink to you, the straw hovering over your lips. Like a baby being fed through a sippy cup, you open your mouth and let him slot the straw between your lips, sucking the liquid in and relishing in the sweetness of the beverage. 

You shoot him a smile when the carton is back in its place on the desk, his eyes promptly moving to the monitor in front of him. You don’t really know what he’s working on in the first place, the hoard of assignments mixing up in your brain, but you refuse to let your mind wander over equations or foreign languages now. It’s Monday afternoon, and even though it’s only the first day of the week, you feel like you deserve to rest.

Changmin types something on the keyboard of the library computer, eyebrows furrowing as he focuses on the contents of the screen. You find yourself glued to his motions, watching him from the side, studying the way his expressions change in milliseconds, irises dialing by the second. When he focuses a little too hard on the information his eyes are scanning on the device, he traps his bottom lip in between his teeth, tugging on it. He also has a habit of licking his lips every few seconds, leaving a wet trail glossing over his mouth, making you feel foolish at the examination of that part of his face. Hair is falling into his forehead, black locks messily trimmed and mostly unstyled, oftentimes leaving you eager to brush your hand through the raven strands to tame them into place. 

His features have grown familiar to you over the months. He has the face of someone you’ll remember even in a few years. He looks like someone you’d take pictures of in photo booths and tape the strips up in your room. You don’t have any pictures like this, though, and your room isn’t worthy enough of being made prettier with such a photo strip. Maybe in the future, you think. When I live somewhere else.

His voice wakes you up from the slumber, your heart hammering at the interruption. Changmin speaks to you casually, the monotone hum of his voice making you listen attentively to what he has to say.

“Where do we eventually want to settle?” he asks, making you raise your brows at him in question.

“What part of the homework is that?” you joke, watching as the boy’s cheeks tint pink, a dismissive wave of his hand shutting up your teasing.

“I’m already done with that,” he clears his throat, “I’m just… doing research.”

“Research,” you repeat, nodding to yourself. You nuzzle your nose into your hoodie sleeve, thinking for a while as you contemplate your decision. You never really thought of where you’d go. ‘Away’ was always your destination– never specified. You just knew you’d have to leave one day, eventually.

“Busan, maybe?” you hum, laughing to yourself. “I dunno. I always wanted to go to Japan, but I don’t think our funds will reach as far.”

“I don’t really think the language barrier would be ideal either,” he agrees, nodding to himself. “Busan sounds nice.”

“Doesn’t it?” you grin, locking your gaze with his only for a few seconds before he looks back to the computer. 

“We could get a little flat somewhere in the middle of the city when we save up enough, eventually,” he says, tone of voice sweet and gentle. There’s something about planning your future with Changmin that leaves you feeling particularly vulnerable and fragile. Not in a bad way, just in a strange type of way. In a way that makes your insides ache and heart tremble. You never thought you’d plan your future with someone. 

Ji Changmin never planned his future either. Somehow, he assumed there was nothing good waiting for him after aging out of the system. 

The intimacy folded over you two like a blanket makes you panic. “We’re moving in together?” you tease, watching as the boy’s face heats up more, a hesitant shrug of his shoulders acted out to seem casual.

“I think it’s more convenient that way,” he hums, trying to stay logical. “We can split the rent and groceries, and one of us can cook while the other one cleans…” he trails off, scratching the back of his neck. “We are leaving together, so I assumed…”

A dumb smile battles its way onto your lips. “I was just joking,” you assure him, watching as he shies away from your gaze. It’s not an usual reaction from him. Ji Changmin doesn’t really get bashful– at least not with you. You try not to question it for the sake of your own comfort.

Forcing your eyes off his face, you watch as he types something on the keyboard again, attention glued to his digits. Dark bruises paint his knuckles, scratches glazing the backs of his fists. Eyebrows furrowing, you act on instinct as you reach out your hand, stopping him from typing as you take his palm into yours. “Did you get into a fight again?” you ask, thumb absent-mindledly tracing the outlines of the scars.

“Maybe,” he admits light-heartedly, lips pressed into a thin line when your warm hand locks with his, the tender touch of the pads of your thumbs against the open wounds making him shiver. If asked, the boy would blame it on the breeze coming through the window. It’s getting late and the air is colder. That has to be it.

“No getting in fights after this is all over,” you say as you let go. “Wouldn’t want our landlord to kick us out for delinquency.”

Changmin laughs, the absurdity of the situation and your foolish dreams downing on both of you at once. Unaware that even though you were both forced to grow up much faster than other kids your age, you were still childish at heart– as if chasing the time of your life that was forcefully taken out of your hands– older, but still needing to live through that stage, you fold back over the table and force your eyes closed, scoffing at the sentiments.

“Don’t you worry, Y/N,” he laughs, “we’re starting clean. Hell, I’ll even give back to society. We can start volunteering, if it makes you sleep better at night.”

The joke makes you chuckle, warming your heart. It’s nice to think about the future with someone. It’s good to feel like your dreams might be tangible. The future is in your hands, and you will do everything you can to make it worth it. 

It’s good to have someone you can lean on.

“Can I help you with that?” Aerin asks you from behind, startling you in the small kitchen space. Turning towards her, you offer her a smile and shake your head, watching as your little sister takes her stance next to your figure, observing your cooking.

When it comes to cooking, you wouldn’t call yourself a professional. A lot of the times, what you end up with isn’t as delicious as you expected it to turn out when you started making it, but at the end of the day, it’s food anyway and you eat it– because throwing it out would be a waste of money and resources, and you have to eat something. There are a few foods that are easy enough that you perfected them, though– and those are ramen, an egg omelet, fried rice, and lastly, the pre-made foods you get at the grocery store that you either just boil or heat up in the microwave. 

“No, it’s okay,” you say as you work on one of your master dishes– the one that satisfies everyone, including your little sister: ramen. You can never go wrong with ramen, you think. 

“But I wanna learn to cook as well,” your sister insists, crossing her arms on her chest, “I’m not a child anymore, and I have to learn how to look after myself.”

A dry chuckle escapes your throat, shaking your head in disbelief at her mature words. In your eyes, she’s just a child, though– a kid that’s not to be trusted with knives and boiling water, a little girl that isn’t as careful with the utensils as she should be, which can undoubtedly end up with her getting hurt. 

“That’s what I’m here for,” you smile, throwing your little sister a caring look. “You just focus on studying and I’ll be there to cook for you so your little stomach is never empty,” you say as you slice the spring onion to add into the noodles boiling on the stove.

Aerin seems to be disappointed with your answer. Her cheeks grow twice as big as they usually are as she pouts, a frown overtaking her features. You take it as your sign to engage your little sister more in the grown-up activities, sighing to yourself as you realize just how fast your little sister has grown. Even though you try to shield her from all the troubles of the adult world, you can’t really prevent her from maturing faster than the other kids her age. Hell, she’s not blind– as much as you’d like her to be. She knows what’s going on. She might not be able to grasp it fully, might not be able to understand everything with her childish brain, but she knows– to a certain level, that is. 

Nodding to yourself, you try to put up a smiling face. “Okay, then,” you say, “I’m making ramen.”

Your sister seems to be intrigued with your sudden tutorial, eyes growing big and focused. Something grows impossibly soft and fond in you, watching her scanning the surroundings, trying to find any task to help you out with. 

“You can just open the pack and put the noodles in the water to boil, if you want to do it the easy way,” you start, “but if you want to make it more delicious, like I do, you can add some other ingredients in with it.”

“What do you add?” Aerin asks.

“Spring onion,” you hum, pointing to the vegetables you’d been cutting when she approached you, “soy sauce,” you point towards the black bottle on the counter, waiting to be opened and added into the dish cooking on the stove, “and lastly, I crack in an egg.”

“That doesn’t seem hard,” Aerin says, earning herself an amused chuckle out of you.

“It’s not,” you admit, “I’m not a professional chef, or anything, so I keep it simple.”

“Can I do it, then?” she asks, looking at you with big, hopeful eyes. You can’t possibly turn those eyes down. A passing thought emerges in you that she needs this– she needs someone to teach her even the smallest things. She needs you to teach her how to cook ramen, because you know how hard it is when you have no one to show you, when you have to figure out everything on your own. 

Nodding, you step aside and put the black bottle of soy sauce into her hand. “You can pour in a little bit. Not too much, though, or else it will be too salty.”

“How much?” she asks, furrowing her brows.

“I’ll tell you when to stop,” you smile, watching as her smaller hand opens the lid of the bottle, positioning the glass above the pot. Black liquid soon drips down, tinting the broth a dark brown color, the spices mixing in and making the ramen instantly twice as delicious as if you’d just thrown it on the stove with the spices that come in the packaging. 

“That’s fine,” you say, halting your sister in adding more and over-seasoning your lunch.

“Now the egg?”

“Yeah,” you nod, watched by the focused eyes of your little sister. You take the small sphere you’ve prepared onto the kitchen counter before you started cooking, offering it to Aerin. “Have you ever cracked an egg before?” you ask.

“No.”

“Okay,” you laugh, “so this is your first time. Don’t worry, nobody gets it right the first time. Just crack it on the counter and then open the shell. Be careful not to spill it everywhere, though,” you instruct, watching as your little sister moves with much uncertainty, small hands shaking with the delicate ingredient in her grasp.

The touch of the shell with the counter is almost delicate the first time, as if she was afraid the egg was going to spill everywhere and make a mess on the kitchen counter, but the second time, she’s a little more confident, cracking the egg on the corner. Pure concentration is shown on your sister’s face as she moves the ingredient above the pot, her little fingers having trouble with opening the shell and dropping the egg in. She struggles, nails digging into the light tan, putting in more force than necessary and breaking the shell even further, having the yolk spill all over her fingers, dropping to the pan with a crash.

Aerin gasps in surprise at her own actions, a frown instantly overtaking her features as she notices that the shell fell in, disappointment so evidently running through her veins.

“It’s okay,” you say, petting her arm, “as I said, nobody gets it right the first time. Throw the shell into the bin and wash your hands, I’ll finish this,” you smile, trying to transfer all your feelings of pride into her.

She is growing up right in front of your eyes. It’s a feeling only older siblings can understand– seeing someone transform from a baby to an elementary-school kid, being there for every step of their journey. You’ve known her her whole life. It’s a bond that you never want to break.

But there’s that bugging voice in your mind that keeps telling you to enjoy this, enjoy it while it lasts, enjoy it while you can, because soon, you’ll be gone and you won’t see her take the next steps, you won’t see her grow up. A chill runs down your spine at that, an unsettling feeling making you feel heavy, making you trap your bottom lip between your teeth and gnaw on it in a poor attempt to ground yourself.

Crouching over the boiling pot, you take out a spoon and fish for the cracked shell in the noodles, not really being in favor of getting an upset appendix. Your eyes get hazy, stinging at the corners– maybe you could blame it on the steam.

“You did well, Aerin. You’ll be a better cook than me in no time,” you praise her.

“I have to learn,” she agrees, the sound of the tap turning on as she washes her hands flowing into your ears with her next sentiment. “You won’t be here forever to do everything for me, after all.”

With your back turned to her, pretending to still dig around the noodles for the egg shells you already got out a few seconds ago, you hum. You catch yourself mid-sniffle, quickly wiping your cheek with the back of your hand, turning off the stove– maybe you could blame it on the spring onion. Cutting it always makes you tear up. It’s just the fumes getting in your eyes.

You won’t be there forever to do everything for your little sister. The day that happens is maybe sooner than she’d expect– you can’t tell her, though. You can’t prepare her for your departure.

By bringing this up, though, it’s almost like in the corner of her soul, she knew. It’s almost like she had it all figured out, it’s like she saw right through you. It’s like her own way of telling you not to worry– she’ll be a big girl and take care of herself. She’ll be strong, even when you’re gone.

You won’t be there forever to do everything for your little sister. You really, desperately wish you would, though. 

Carisoprodol, sold under the brand name Soma among others, is indicated for the relief of discomfort associated with acute, painful musculoskeletal conditions in adults. Carisoprodol is a white, crystalline powder, having a mild, characteristic odor and a bitter taste. It is slightly soluble in water; freely soluble in alcohol, chloroform, and acetone; and its solubility is practically independent of pH. SOMA should only be used for short periods (up to two or three weeks) because adequate evidence of effectiveness for more prolonged use has not been established.

“What if it kills him?” you ask, chewing on your bottom lip.

“It won’t,” Changmin says, placing his hand over yours, the package of pills resting in your open palm. “Trust me.”

The recommended dose of SOMA is 250 mg to 350 mg three times a day and at bedtime. The recommended maximum duration of SOMA use is up to two or three weeks.

“Where did you even get this?” your eyebrows furrow as you listen to him instruct you on the ways of using it. Your stomach is already burning with acid at the thought of what you’re going to do. It’s what you’re dreading, but it’s also what needs to be done. 

“Our caretaker back at the foster home takes them,” he says, shrugging. “So I just borrowed some.”

SOMA has sedative properties and may impair the mental and/or physical abilities required for the performance of potentially hazardous tasks such as driving a motor vehicle or operating machinery. There have been post-marketing reports of motor vehicle accidents associated with the use of SOMA. In some patients, however, and/or early in therapy, carisoprodol can have the full spectrum of sedative side effects and can impair the patient's ability to operate a firearm, motor vehicles, and other machinery of various types, especially when taken with medications containing alcohol, in which case an alternative medication would be considered. The intensity of the side effects of carisoprodol tends to lessen as therapy continues, as is the case with many other drugs. Other side effects include: dizziness, clumsiness, headache, fast heart rate, upset stomach, vomiting and skin rash.

“Just give him two of these. He should be out within an hour.” 

A chill runs down your spine. This is nothing close to the occasional stealing at the grocery store or the lying you used to do to get money out of old men that are predatory towards a girl knowing she’s underage. This is twice as morally wrong and twice as dangerous for everyone involved. If you had to draw a line at what you can excuse yourself, you think all of this is far over it.

“If this goes wrong, I’m ratting you out and we’re both going to jail. You hear me?” you say, eyes bearing into Changmin’s.

“That’s the plan, baby,” he grins. “If you go down, I go as well.”

The usual dose of 350 mg is unlikely to engender prominent side effects other than somnolence, and mild to significant euphoria or dysphoria, but the euphoria is generally short-lived due to the fast metabolism of carisoprodol into meprobamate and other metabolites.

You watch the boy from up close, his eyes now blown out and big, blonde hair falling into his forehead in a messy manner– yet he doesn’t find it in him to drag his palm across the strands and push them out of his vision. You’re laying in the bed with him, side by side, staring into each other’s eyes. You watch as the drug slowly takes over him, as the boy in front of you slowly starts slipping into a more and more sleepy state, completely unaware of the fact that you dropped two white, round pills into his drink when he went to the toilet. 

Your conscience starts stinging more and more with the passing time. Eric Sohn looks at you like you hung the stars onto the sky, like you made the whole world with just your two hands– and this is what you’re repaying him with. This is what you decided to do, this is what path you chose to take.

Millions of excuses flash through your alert brain. Maybe it’s just your mind trying to rationalize everything, trying to make you feel better about the mess you’re just now going to create– either way, it’s helping only a little bit with the rapid beating of your heart. 

You keep telling yourself that it doesn’t matter. That Eric would never understand the life you’re living, that he wouldn’t even want to date you, had he known just how much money your family owes. You keep telling yourself that it’s okay, because he has a lot of money, and it’s not like you’re stealing it all– you’re just stealing the valuables he showed you. And maybe it’s his fault for trusting you. After all, he was the one willingly taking you back to his house when his parents weren’t around. This is his lesson– he should start being less gullible and vulnerable. He should stop hanging out with people like you.

You and him, you don’t belong together. Eric Sohn is supposed to stand by the side of another rich heir, showing her off to his parents. He’s supposed to be proudly going around the town with his newest girlfriend, not hiding with her in the shadows, knowing, sensing that she’s flawed and not like him– not like others.

He’s going to wake up and find out who you are– the reality, not just what you’ve been pretending to be all this time– and he’s going to be disappointed, sure, but he’s going to move on to better things. Because what you’re taking from him is just a fraction of his wealth, just a small part of what he has. He won’t even feel the loss. 

But for you, you’re taking everything you can– everything you need.

It’s not like any of this– your relationship– was ever real. You two haven’t even kissed yet. You hang out with him and hold his hand, you listen to him while he talks to you with sparkles in his eyes, but there’s no depth. Surely, he must feel it. Surely, he must know there’s something wrong.

“I love you, Y/N,” he suddenly says, tone of voice hushed, almost not audible in the silence of his room. The sentence is like a knife to your heart, a dagger stabbing you in your back. Something inside of you crumbles, your stomach burning with guilt, hands shaking as you pretend you didn’t hear him. If you ignore it, maybe it’s like it never happened. 

It’s the effect of the drug. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. It’s not real– how could it be? He doesn't know you. He doesn’t know who you really are and what you’re about to do. He can’t love you.

Fingers playing with the loose threads of the blanket thrown over the two of you, your eyes avert from his, big and honest, still like water. It takes everything in you not to stay here with him, wait until he’s back from the sedation, and apologize. It takes everything in you not to back out. Every time the weight of your actions becomes too unbearable, the weight of responsibility and your family’s well-being drops onto the other side of the scale, though, and you’re back to square one– this is what you need to do.

“You don’t have to say it back,” he says to you despite not meeting your eye, “you… I know…” he trails off, but doesn’t finish the sentence, as if changing his mind. A dry chuckle leaves his throat at that, words sweet like honey lacing your throat, choking you up with the thickness of them, the richness of his unreturned care. “I just wanted you to know.”

You’re a terrible, terrible human being. The force of your teeth against the side of your cheek suddenly gives out, making you taste iron on your tongue. Promptly ignoring everything he says, focusing on calming down your breathing and the erratic beating of your heart, you wonder if he knows. If he’s aware you’re just playing with him– if he knows you never cared for him in a way he does for you. 

Because if he knows, it’s like he’s allowing you to break him. Isn’t that what love is, though? Being vulnerable, offering someone your whole heart, and expecting them to take care of it? Love is cruel in that way. It can take away all of you. It can consume you.

And would he still love you if he knew what you were going to do to him? Is his love unconditional? You chuckle at that. He doesn’t know anything about love. 

A while passes, the two of you laying in silence. When you finally battle away the fear and look up at him, you find him asleep. His eyes are closed and his breathing is steady, and when you touch his arm– testing to see if he will wake– you find him unresponsive. This is your cue.

Standing up from his bed and straightening the wrinkles on your clothes, you take a deep breath in and out to calm yourself down. Your hands grasp the backpack you brought with yourself– the bag that was supposed to be filled with clothes so you could sleep over, yet that is now empty, just waiting to be filled– and you walk out of Eric’s room, feet dragging you towards all the empty rooms in the corridor.

The first part of the plan is now in action.

Walking into the master bedroom, dashing to the walk-in closet, you take all the jewelry you can find. The mental calculations of the worth of the chains and golden earrings in your bag are adding up slowly, the digits growing and making a sense of satisfaction flow through your veins. Maybe something rubbed off on you from hanging out around Changmin so much– you get the thrill now. You get the adrenaline. It’s like working for something you want, something you need, and although you know there are other ways, they’re not as fast and effective. The thing is, you need the money now. 

Fastly getting through room by room, taking everything valuable you can see with the idea of turning it into profit in a pawn shop somewhere along the way, when everything is settled and you’re on the run, starting your life somewhere new, you find that it gets easier to operate. It’s like you’re working on auto-pilot, the full weight of your actions slowly slipping through your consciousness. You’re only an actor in your life right now, looking at yourself from a third person view– like you’re playing a video game. 

Detached from everything, hands now more steady and breathing almost normal, you take the jewelry from the living room as well. A dry chuckle leaves your throat as you eye Eric’s wallet thrown lazily on the shelf by the front door. You never leave your money out in the open and unhidden at home– don’t you know that? Haven’t you learned about the dangers of that yet, Eric Sohn? Oh, what a blissfully unaware life you lead.

Opening it, taking the bank notes into your fingers and folding them into your pocket, you stop as you put your shoes back on at the front door. Looking around the big, empty space, not really allowing yourself to dwell on your actions just yet, you take your phone out of your pocket and before you completely turn the device off, block Eric’s number. 

The doorknob is cold in your hands as you open the front door, walking out. It’s like you’re leaving who you once were and who you could’ve been in that big house behind you– it’s like you’re saying goodbye to the life you once led and anxiously awaiting the new one waiting for you behind the corner. 

Getting sentimental won’t help you in this situation, though. Being emotional and afraid won’t drag your family out of the depths of loan sharks’ teeth. 

And so you walk off the property, mind set on the meeting point you agreed on with Changmin. It’s now or never.

The first part of the plan has been completed. You have something to fall back on when you discard all the money into the loan shark’s hands. Eric Sohn’s wealth is now your safety net. 

You meet up with your partner in crime at the corner of the neighborhood. Your backpack gets hidden in the bushes, away from the eyes of everyone, on the route you’re going to take when completing your second part of the plan. The next couple of steps are completed on autopilot. 

Flashes of Changmin’s face. A ski mask pulled over his head, a hood pulled over your hair, disposable mask covering your nose. He throws one of his spare black hoodies over your body, leaving you to put your arms through the sleeves and zip the clothing up, the two of you masked to the point of not being recognised even to the eyes of people that know you. 

You two make a silent entry to the empty road leading towards the town square. Not much conversation is shared between the two of you because of the adrenaline running through your veins. The stride in your step is consistent and fast-paced, the timing of your plan set to a tight schedule. When you cross the corner, nearing your target, the two of you put on sunglasses and keep your head low. Your heartbeat is so fast you can hear it in your ears, your body responding to the stress with the help of your sympathetic nervous system– breathing growing fast and hands a little sweaty.

Your mind is repeating ‘It’s gonna be okay, It’s gonna be okay, It’s gonna be okay’, a silent plea that constantly gets overthrown by the rational side of your brain. Is it too late to back out now? You don’t know– but at the same time, you recognise that you don’t particularly want to. You’re just scared– you know it. You recognise it. 

And it’s okay to do things afraid. It means you have the courage to do them– it means you have what it takes to change the situation you’re in.

Your eyes lock with Changmin’s, his face mostly hidden in a shadow. You can’t really read his expression– it’s dark and his features are covered– but it seems like you two operate on the same frequencies. One nod is all it takes– the world stops for a second before Changmin turns on his heel and moves towards the jewelry store you once worked at, a heavy rock he prepared close to the sidewalk thrown through the door giving you an easy entry to the property.

The alarm goes off instantly. That means you only have about 10 to 15 minutes before the police come and you’re busted.

You have to act quick. Changmin climbs into the store like he owns the place. You have the background information from working there that could very well get you caught quickly, if the police are smart enough to connect the dots in the investigation. The plan you and Changmin have is efficient, fast and smart. You thought about everything– you can’t make a single mistake. The way you move and operate is calculated and thought-out. There’s no way you’re giving yourself to the hands of the police tonight.

While you run to the back and rummage through the manager’s room, looking for the key to the cash register– you know where it’s usually kept, since you closed with her many times before and watched her do all the tasks with innocent eyes, not yet knowing that you’re going to end up using this information for your good one day. When you find it– on the top of the shelf, almost invisible if you hadn’t known that’s where to look for it– you move to the safe in the corner of the room. The sequence of numbers is easy to remember– or at least for you. Your father used to tell you that you’re good with numbers. You’ve grown to hate every quality of yours he ever complimented, but you must admit it’s coming in clutch right now.

Your fingers work on the lock, the junctures of the metal unclasping under your touch. Your hands are still sweaty, but a little more steady now– you notice as you open the door to the safe and take out the rest of the money binded with rubber bands, throwing it into your backpack. You work fast, not really giving yourself an opportunity to mentally count and estimate the amount, but something in your bones is telling you that it should be enough.

Running back to the main store area after you’re done, not bothering to close the safe after yourself, you reach the register to get the last remains of cash from this store. The alarm is still going off, making your ears ring and your stomach churn with acid, but as you get the key in and forcefully take out the drawer, you feel a little calmer at the sight of the bills inside. 

From the corner of your eye, you watch Changmin getting out jewelry from each shiny glass vitrine, smashing it with his gloved fist. Countless earrings, watches and necklaces get thrown messily into his bag, expensive metal rising your worth with every passing second. 

When the cash is in your bag, you quickly pace around the store and try to help Changmin. As soon as your hand goes to smash the window, though, he takes you by the wrist and shields you from your attempts. Furrowing your brows, you meet eyes with him, wordlessly asking for an explanation. Does he not want your help? Does he want you to fully stick to the plan? But you’re done with your part– the best thing you can do at this moment is help him with his side, no?

Your question is quickly answered when the man keeps tugging on your hand, leading you out of the store. Your feet buckle the tiniest bit when you cross the threshold, but that’s when you hear it– the sirens.

You didn’t notice them over the sound of the alarm and the whooshing of your blood in your ears. You have to leave– they’re close.

Changmin takes the lead, his sneakers making a loud noise against the pavement. You run after him, your pulse quickening with each meter. They could be anywhere, you think. They could stop you right here, on the run. You have to be careful.

The paranoia gets the worst of you, making you constantly check over your shoulder. Pupils shaking, you scan your surroundings– there could be anyone watching you that could tell the police that they saw you on the run. There must be cameras everywhere. You can’t hide. They’re always watching. You’re going to get caught, and you’re going to be sent to juvie. You can’t help your family–

“Y/N,” you hear him call from in front of you, the anxious thoughts vanishing from your brain fast, like the strike of a lightning. 

His sunglasses are off, your eyes meeting. Something inside of you comes to a calm, your heart leaping, squeezing on itself. His hand grabs yours, a force dragging you to his level on the pavement. He’s not letting you fall behind, his legs giving the pace as you follow him, left, right, left, right… You’re almost there. You’re almost done.

It gets to the point of the route where Changmin bends down and searches through the bush. Your backpack is quickly found, thrown over his shoulder. He’s carrying both now, one on his back and one on his front, leaving you leaping behind him with a smaller duffel bag on your shoulder. You carry a lot of money with yourself right now. You don’t think you’ve ever seen so much money in one place in your whole entire life.

And then you’re finally there– the police sirens are no longer audible, there are houses all around you and the only thing accompanying the silence are the lampposts and your heavy breathing. Bending over at his waist, Changmin finally lets go of your hand. His fingers grasp the ski mask on his head, tugging it off and letting him finally breathe in the oxygen freely, not restricted by the thick fabric.

Your heart starts to calm down as you take more air into your lungs. Wiping your sweaty hands onto the fabric of your jeans, you unzip the hoodie and fan yourself with your shirt, hating the way it’s sticking to your sweaty skin. 

It’s calm. Quiet. Just like any other day. Tonight, it feels a bit strange.

Changmin looks up at you, hair messy sticking up everywhere, his sweaty forehead glistening a little in the moonlight. A heartbeat passes by of you two just staring into each other’s eyes before his lips turn into a lazy grin, the dimple on his cheek showing itself to you in its full glory. It’s a strange situation to smile in, but it still makes your heart leap and thunder, a similar expression taking over your face. Then, he laughs. Like it’s funny. Now, this is getting ridiculous.

Still, you can’t help but mirror him. He must be crazy. Surely, you’re both going insane. 

Shaking his head, he straightens his back and takes a step forward to where you’re standing, offering his hand to you for a high-five. When you meet him in the middle, he locks his fingers with you, squeezing your palm with his. “Almost there.”

“Almost there,” you repeat, nodding. 

Now, all it takes is to settle the loans and leave. Leave fast, that is.

You take both of the bags into your hands and slowly, quietly enter your house. Changmin doesn’t follow you– he’s on to the second to last part of your plan as you walk up the stairs to your room and lock the door behind you. Unzipping the bags and dropping the money onto the rug in the middle of the floor, your breathing heavy as you prepare to count, you crouch and let your eyes wander for a bit along the notes in the middle of your room. 

You’re rich. Only for a moment, though. You try to salvage the feeling the best you can– the satisfaction doesn’t hit your brain, though. You can’t fake it. You can’t make yourself believe a lie.

Pulling yourself together, your fingers slip across the smooth surface of each bill, your brain working fast as you rustle with the cotton. The amount gets added up, the sum growing bigger and bigger, and after each ten thousand, you put a rubber band on the roll and drop it back into one of the bags. 

You’re using your school bag to carry the money to settle your family’s debt. There’s something deeply ironic about the sentiment. It almost makes you chuckle.

The light pink backpack gets filled with expensive pieces of paper, each roll lifting the tiniest bit of weight off your shoulders. Only a few more and you have enough, you think– and although you hate to admit it, the remaining sum you see scattered across your floor is less than the amount you expected. It’s okay, though– you know how to live with nothing. You’ll survive. You’ll get through it. 

After you’re done counting, you zip up the bag. Shaky hands reach for the last notes on the floor. You take out the envelope you hid under your pillow and put the money inside before you hesitantly drag out the piece of paper you’ve treasured inside, letting your eyes scan over the last words you’re leaving for your sister.

My sweet Aerin. 

Don’t look for me. Don’t worry about me. You’re safe now and everything is going to be okay. Take care of mum while I’m gone and make sure to study well so you get into a good university and make your big sister very proud. There are some things you are too young to understand, but I’m sure you’ll get it when you’re older. 

Please don’t hate me. I’m always thinking about you. We will meet again one day.

Love, Y/N. :) 

P.S.: keep this money safe. Only use it when you really need it. 

The corners of your eyes burn, making you blink away the tears. Although your heart wishes for one last hug, one last goodbye, you know you can’t grant yourself the benefit. If you held your sister for a second, you know you’d want to hold her forever– and that’s something you can’t do anymore. Not after what’s done. You can’t look back and keep holding on to something so selfishly– there’s no going back after what you’ve done. You’re a criminal now– a proper one, but you did it all for your family. You hope that one day, at least your sister might understand.

Wiping the stray tear that’s rolled down your cheek, you breathe in to calm your erratic thoughts. Putting the letter back in and sealing the envelope, all while simultaneously gathering all the bags, you walk into your sister’s room and leave the envelope under her pillow. 

Her sleeping body is still shorter than yours, but she’s no longer so little. She’s grown so much over the years. The thought of not seeing her grow into an adult pains you, but it’s the price you have to pay for her comfort. 

You close the door to her room quietly. You walk down the stairs of a house you can no longer call a home, foot stepping over the threshold of a place you’re never coming back to. You don’t allow yourself to look behind you. You don’t allow yourself to say a proper goodbye.

The jog towards the car parked in your driveway feels like a marathon– you’re slowly running out of breath. You didn’t train hard enough for the responsibilities you’ve taken on your shoulders. It’s like you’re jogging with a bag of rocks on your back.

Changmin opens the door to the passenger’s side for you. The bags are dropped onto the backseat. When he asks you if you’re ready, you don’t look into his eyes when you nod. There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach telling you that he’ll see right through your lie– but you can’t waste any more time than you already allowed yourself back in the house.

Changmin twists the car key in the ignition and starts the car. You drive away towards the other side of the city. Your baby pink school bag is dropped at the gate of the expensive-looking house of which you found the address of on one of the contracts somewhere in the middle of planning your escape. You drive away before anyone notices. Somehow, it feels like by leaving the bag there, you’re losing your youth with it. You can never take that backpack back to school with you. 

But then again, you’re never going back to school. Somehow, you know you lost your youth before you had a physical reminder. Your shoulders hang heavy even without the weight.

The drive is silent. You try to distract yourself by watching the stars.

When you were little, you promised your sister that you would be by her side forever. She was only 6 when she came home from school crying, telling you that her friends all went out alone without her and talked badly about her behind her back. It took everything in you to not go out of your way to hunt down those little heathens and give them a piece of your mind back then, but you remember it as if it was yesterday, telling your sister that ‘It’s okay, because you will always have me,’ as her big eyes glistened with tears, ‘remember, I’m your best friend forever, okay?’.

You don’t really know if she remembers that day. It was ages ago and she made new friends just two weeks after this whole fiasco, forgetting all about it. It stuck in your brain like a sticker, though, the one that you try to peel off but the residue stays behind, tearing at all edges, getting beaten up and looking rather pathetic– just like your words resonating in your brain, bouncing off the walls of your mind.

You broke the only promise you ever meant. 

“You did well,” you hear a voice cut through the silence, the buzzing of the engine not really lullying you to sleep anymore, “you did the best you could.”

Eyes darting to your companion on the driver’s side, you hear yourself let out a soft chuckle. Teeth catching the flesh in your mouth, biting on the inside of your cheek to battle with the tears begging to haze your eyes, you try to focus on his side profile, studying the slope of his nose and the hair falling into his eyes instead, burning this image into your memory. You do everything but think about the events of the night. 

Still, you ask. “Do you think she hates me?”

“I don’t think she could ever hate you, Y/N,” he says, voice tender and sincere, trying his hardest to fight the battle with you, to hold you up when you’re falling.

“I think that one day, she will grow up and she will understand. She will get why you did what you did,” he hums, eyes still sternly glued to the road ahead of him, “she will understand that you did it for her.”

Swallowing hard, for you feel like there’s a lump in your throat, you nod and look back outside of the window. This is something you’re going to need more time to get through, but this is a start– this is something. You have someone that understands. You have someone who shares the burden. 

“Thanks,” you whisper. 

The lampposts blur behind the glass with the speed you’re going at, your surroundings unfamiliar and strange to you. You don’t really know where you are or where you’re heading to– you let Changmin handle that side of the planning, since you don't really care where you’re gonna end up– but the hills and forests cornering the right side of the landscape make you feel strangely at peace. You must be far, far away from Seoul right now. Maybe you’re heading north. You don’t really mind. Maybe you don’t really care.

“How did you even get this car, by the way?” you ask, turning your head back to the boy in the driver’s seat.

“Oh, this?” he snickers, shrugging. “I know a guy. We used to be friends when he lived at the foster home. He aged out of the system like three years ago, but he knows a guy who knows a guy, and he just so coincidentally had this old thing laying around, so I figured we could use it for some time,” he says, nodding to himself. 

Shaking your head in disbelief, you wonder just how far connections can take you in the world. It’s not quite as easy as if you were born to a rich businessman, per se, but you’ll take the off-handed nepotism of the underground world, if it makes your life go smoother– just for the time being, at least. 

“Do you even have a license?” you ask.

“No,” he shakes his head. “But nobody has to know that–”

“Changmin!” you exclaim, terror shaking with your body.

“You really thought I was allowed to drive a car when you got into the vehicle, Y/N? Come on, I’m a foster kid. Do you really think anyone paid for my license?” he laughs, eyes darting to your figure momentarily, forming moon crescents when he notices the look on your face. “My friend taught me how to drive, though! He got adopted a few months ago, a super rich family– can’t say I’m not jealous, but that’s a story for another time–” he hums casually, as if it’s not a big deal, “and they bought him a car. Anyways, we stayed in contact and he let me try it at this empty parking lot, you know, where the abandoned factory is? And–”

Watching him speak, arms flying around the air making him look like an animated character– going as far as comically noticing that the car is heading to the left by itself when the wheel is unoccupied, quickly taking ahold of it with both hands and trying to make it stay on the road– it’s like a weight is slowly being lifted off your shoulders. It all seems so ridiculous. Insane. Crazy. 

A laugh battles out of your throat. Changmin’s eyes meet with yours, a big smile spreading across his face. A dimple appears on his cheek, his essence contagious. 

Suddenly, you can do anything in the world. Nobody can stop you. You fought with your future. You changed the trajectory of your life. You helped your mother. You protected your sister.

What’s a few years in hiding? 

A foolish thought passes by your brain. You don’t dwell on it much longer, but it’s a nice thing to reflect on when you’re alone in the hostel room late at night, hyper-aware of Changmin’s presence on the other side of the bed– because it’s more expensive to get a room with two beds and it doesn’t matter anyway. You will push it back into the corners of your mind, ignoring it until this moment happens. But it’s there– creeping around, waiting for you to pay attention to it– and it says that as long as you have Changmin, you’re sure you can get on with anything. You can get used to this.

“Aren’t you hungry? There’s some snacks in the compartment over there,” he says, pointing towards it. Magically, your stomach starts to churn– he must have said it into existence. It stinks a lot of black magic, if you really think about it. You knew you should’ve been more careful around him.

Still, your hand reaches for the compartment, opening it. There’s an opened pack of Lay’s chips, a bottle of soda, a wrapped sandwich, and a small chocolate bar, wrapped in red packaging, smiling at you brightly from the darkness of the car. It’s looking at you with big heart-eyes, your favorite flavor of them all– peanut butter covered with tasty milk chocolate, a heaven on Earth– and then reality hits you like a truck again, your eyes burning with the realization.

Fingers wrapping around the treat, you study the packaging for a while– as if you weren’t familiar with it already, having the chocolate bar on days where you really felt like you deserved it, on days where you really felt like you earned it. 

When you look up, you see Changmin altering his point of view between the road and your face, a bashful smile playing with his features. “Bought it for you this time,” he notes, “as a new start.”

A sniffle. Your hands shake a little, your lungs betray you with the intake of oxygen. 

“No, you’re not gonna cry on me now,” he panics, shaking his head, “no, no, no. Open the chocolate and eat it, you moron, we don’t have time to be sentimental–” he grunts, although his intentions are too clear even without words– the silent support still makes your weak heart squeeze on itself. 

You laugh, unwrapping the chocolate and taking a bite. Somehow, you manage to let out:

“You remembered.”

“Of course,” he hums, “how could I forget, I mean, you had a whole hour-long dilemma about it back at the gas station–”

“Shut up, you’re ruining it,” you grunt, tearing a piece of the chocolate bar and holding it up in front of his lips, “I’ll share it with you this one time just to make you shut up,” you say, shaking your head.

The boy takes a hold of your wrist to steady it, taking the sweetness into his mouth. He stays silent for a bit as he chews on it, but his fingers still stay wrapped around your skin as he moves your hand away from his face, resting it on your thigh. Warmth covers the back of your palm as he rests his own on it, his digits intertwining with yours. When he squeezes your fist in tender reassurance, you feel your heart skip a beat.

Orange hues appear behind your window as you drive off the highway. The land is still sprouse with buildings, but you enjoy watching the sun slowly waltz onto the sky, greeting you into the new day. Watching the side of his face as he focuses on parking in front of a lone diner in the middle of nowhere, you finally get in tune with the fact that Ji Changmin’s everything you have right now– everyone you can lean on and fall back on. 

Maybe it’s been that way for a while now, but it only downs on you when you’re essentially on the same level now, no illusions playing with your mind– nobody’s son and nobody’s daughter.

“Breakfast!” he exclaims as he turns the engine off, seemingly impressed with his parking skills. When you get out of the car and he marches up to you, putting a cap onto your head and tugging it low to cover your face, ‘just in case’, tugging you by your hand into the diner, you can’t help but wonder– if anyone unsuspecting saw you right now, 

would you look like lovers, or partners in crime?

[eleni-cherie]

agents' secrets ✨ || bts • jjk [ONE-SHOT]

"please, don't shoot me for this."

about two interpol agents assigned to catch a pack of thieves. and a dicey secret to share.

© 2024 | eleni_cherie

[one-shot in 'the thieves collection' series - can be read independently!!]

»»»

— word count: 10k

— genre: interpol agent au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, sexual tensiON, slowburning, mutual pining, co-workers to friends to lover cw2f2l

— song recommendations/inspirations:

luca vasta - imperial (i don't wanna dance)

hozier - too sweet

alexandra savior - bones

claire - friendly fire

ezi - take my breath away

jungkook - standing next to you

»»»

COPYRIGHT. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

IDEA/STORY/CHARACTERS BASED ON MY PREVIOUS STORIES: "A THIEF'S ORIGIN" , "AMONG THIEVES" AND "A THIEF'S END".

this one-shot aims to give additional backstory to some incidents from the three main stories from jungkook and skylar's perspective while focusing and adding details to their friend- and relationship.

if you want the full context and also more of the two, check out the other stories as well!

PROTAGONISTS:

JEON JUNGKOOK AS HIMSELF; YOUNG INTERPOL AGENT / FRISKY COLLEAGUE

KIERNAN SHIPKA AS SKYLAR BLAKE; YOUNG INTERPOL AGENT / AMBITIOUS NEWBIE

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

NOT FREE FROM LINGUISTIC ERRORS - ENGLISH IS NOT MY NATIVE LANGUAGE.

DON’T BE A GHOST READER. LIKE, COMMENT & SHARE THIS STORY IF YOU LIKE IT :))

DEDICATED TO EVERYONE WHO’S READING THIS FANFIC!

CHECK OUT MY OTHER BTS STORIES AS WELL: HERE

-Elenixx

»»»

[set between the prequel and main story]

Interpol branch office

Seoul, South Korea

Jungkook had never been someone struggling with mornings. Considering they'd spend the previous days in Shanghai, arresting a counterfeiter they'd been after for months, however, the lack of sleep started getting the best of him.

If he could, he'd have more than twenty-four hours a day. A day alone wasn't enough to fully rest.

With a yawn, he sat behind his desk and switched his pc on. Slight disappointment washing over his features as there weren't any news about their favourite pack of thieves. Perhaps Seokjin would inform them about any hints regarding Park Jimin and his gang in the team meeting later.

His eyes wandered around then, realising Namjoon wasn't at the desk across from his. And he sighed. It was a view he should probably get used to considering his older collegue was leaving the robbery department soon to become the lead at special victims.

Of course Jungkook was happy for Namjoon, but he simply wasn't a big fan of changes, even if they were inevitable. It always took him awhile getting used to new circumstances.

Suddenly a tall figure entered his peripheral view and he saw his supervisor walking towards him with an ambigious smirk. "Jungkook-ah! Good morning!"

"'morning, Sir."

"What are these bags under your eyes? They're deeper than my soul," Seokjin laughed out and gave him a pat on the shoulder, coaxing a tired chuckle from the young agent.

"I know, I know," he mumbled in embarrassment, which his supervisor missed while looking for something in his pockets. Eventually pulling out a USB drive.

"Remember the list of suspects we requested from the bootleg case? We got it here. Make sure to cross-check with the other case."

He nodded firmly. "Sure."

Only when Seokjin left, he let himself sink into his seat again. He definitely needed coffee before the team meeting in less than an hour. So he got up, making his way towards the elevator. As he rounded the corner, he saw Namjoon entering through the glass doors with the sleeves of his blazer rolled up and a pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose. An air of refined nonchalance surrounding him.

He was holding one of the double doors open and only then Jungkook noticed he was talking to someone. Catching a glimpse of a person behind his broad shoulders.

"This is our floor and where you're gonna work at next week. It's pretty much the sa- oh! JK!" Namjoon's cheery voice when noticing him made Jungkook pause in his tracks. With a shy smile, he waved and walked up to him. Seeing the person Namjoon was talking to appear beside him.

A young woman, probably not older than him but not much younger either, stood there. Compared to Namjoon's tall stature she looked tiny and when standing in front of her he realised that she was indeed quite short, probably not more than 1.6 metres in height. Her shoulder-length blond hair was falling in soft waves, pushed back by a hairband. There was a sharpness in her brown eyes and a reserved curve on her lips as she locked gazes with him.

Only when one of her thick brows arched, he realised he'd been staring and with a quick blink of his eyes, he redirected them to Namjoon who'd been talking this whole time. "Huh?"

Namjoon gave him a puzzled frown before laughing out. "Say, haven't you fully woken up yet? I said this is your new colleague."

"Starting on monday, so not yet," the young woman corrected with a charming smile, earning a nod from Namjoon.

"Oh," Jungkook finally spoke up, his eyes going round like a child's as soon as he processed the information. And his gaze returned to her. "So you're his successor?"

"Y-yeah, I guess so," she answered tentatively.

"She's gonna be your new partner."

And his lips curled up. "Nice to meet you, then. I'm agent Jeon Jungkook."

He offered her his hand, which she accepted with a coy smile, giving it a quick squeeze before letting go again. 

"Agent Skylar Blake, nice to meet you."

The senior agent motioned with his chin for them to continue down the corridor. "I was about to show her around the department before the meeting. You wanna join us?"

"Maybe later, gotta grab some coffee first."

Namjoon gave him an understanding look and chuckled. "Yeah, you look like you could use one."

He eventually met Skylar and Namjoon again in the conference room half an hour later. The two already sitting and chatting at a corner while people started gathering. Jungkook was sipping at his by now lukewarm coffee, occasionally peeking at them from a few seats away as they were all intently listening to Seokjin and the other teamleaders' updates.

The meeting went by rather quickly. There were news regarding some cases but nothing regarding Jimin, Taehyung and Yoongi. The general census being that they were currently laying low and preparing for a new coup after the failed one in Thailand months ago.

It was nearing noon when Jungkook sat back in his desk chair and stretched his neck. Finally having finished going through the list Seokjin had given him and some other evidence. He hadn't looked up from his screens in hours and when he did, his irises caught sight of Skylar sitting at the desk opposite to his. Namjoon's desk.

Her dark eyes concentrating on something in front of her, scribbling down on the paper.

For a moment, he observed her quietly as she tucked a streak of blond hair behind her ear. Tongue slightly sticking out between her red-painted lips. And he got curious of what she was so focused on.

Surely, he hadn't talked much to her yet but she seemed nice. And considering the two would be working closely from now on, he should probably get to know her better.

Skylar scribbled something again on what he eventually saw was a crosswords, too immersed in it to notice him approaching. Only a few blanks were left on the quiz and he raised an impressed brow when standing beside her.

"'Jackass'."

The young woman jumped up in her seat, looking startled at Jungkook above her.

"W-what?"

"'Jackass'," her he repeated matter-of-factly, motioning with his eyes to the squares on the paper and tapping his finger on it. "Nine horizontal, 'equid – stupid person': jackass."

Finally understanding, she looked down and indeed, it fit. "T-thanks."

"You bored?" he asked then, meeting her friendly smile.

"Kinda. Agent Kim told me to wait here as he got called in by the other agent Kim and you seemed so emerged in your task, I didn't want to disturb."

He hummed, his eyes briefly falling into a sad scowl. He knew he should get used to seeing someone else, particularly her, sitting behind that desk from now on, however, it was still hard to grasp or accept that fact.

Shaking off that thought, he grabbed the unoccupied desk chair of another colleague then, rolling next to her. "Mind if I join you?" he asked, taking a seat beside her. A whiff of an unfamiliar smell filling his nostrils. It was her, he realised, she smelled nice. Of flowers.

She shook her head then, scooting further away to make space for him. "I didn't want to distract you from your task, though. You don't have to keep me company."

"Nah, don't worry, I finished and besides.." he offered her a smile, "..we'll be partners from now on. I should probably get to know you better since we're gonna spend so much time together."

Her lips folded and she nodded. "Makes sense.."

"So you like crosswords?"

"Mh. And reading. Keeps my mind busy."

"I see. I prefer video games."

"I suck in them," she deadpanned, earning a chuckle from him. At least she was honest.

"And I suck in reading anything with more than twenty pages of text."

"Oh, so you can still read children's books at least."

He huffed a laugh seeing her biting back one herself. He wasn't used to anyone being this witty with him besides Seokjin and occasionally Namjoon and it amused him. Made it easier to get used to her.

"Yeah, but I'd much rather read manga."

He managed getting a small laugh out of her after all and he grinned, satisfied.

They grew quiet, reading over the remaining blanks when Skylar peeked at him with prying eyes.

"Since we're getting to know each other right now.." she began slowly, earning a questioning look from him, "May I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"Why do you seem so sad when looking at me?"

His brows rose briefly, before looking away with a sigh. So she had noticed. "Is it that obvious?"

"Oh, sorry, was it supposed to be a poker-face?" she giggled then, pointing her pen at him, "If so, I must inform you, you failed miserably."

He scoffed, laughing again and she joined him. 

It was interesting. When she'd first met him a few hours ago he seemed aloof. However, seeing him laugh now had much the opposite effect on her. He looked quite innocent and childlike as his round eyes crinkled and turned into crescents while laughing carelessly. 

"Please don't take it personally," he said then, "It has nothing to do with you. It's just.. I'm kinda sad Namjoon's leaving. That's all. He.. he is my role model here. Obviously Seokjin, too, they both are. But Namjoon was the reason I joined this department in the first place."

Memories from four years ago when he'd first joined after graduating from the academy swept through his mind. How nervous and dewy-eyed he'd once been and determinded to prove himself. Looking back at it now, he had to laugh at his past self.

Skylar, however, didn't seem nervous or gullible at all. At least from what he'd seen that day. And he quickly noticed the surprise on the younger agent's face at his confession, feeling himself blushing. "I know it must sound ridiculous and - "

"No, actually.. I get it," she interrupted him, "It was the same for me."

His eyes grew round. "What?"

She only nodded vigorously. "Yeah, I applied for narcotics first but he somehow got my application and convinced me to come here instead. He.. he surely has a way with words. I couldn't refuse." Frankly, she was still amazed by Namjoon's eloquent way of speaking.

Jungkook laughed to himself, nodding in agreement. "He definitely does."

They exchanged a small smile when suddenly their names were heard from the other side of the office. Both their heads turned in the direction of Seokjin's voice, seeing their supervisor standing all the way back at the open door of the conference room, waving at them to come.

"Just got some news from our favourite thieves. Blake, you might wanna join since you'll have to deal with them from now on, too."

They nodded and immediately got up to hurry to the conference room when Skylar accidentally bumped into him. Their gazes locked as she smiled up at him. And in that short moment her cherry lips moved to apologize, his breath hitched and he swallowed hard. His ears began ringing out of nowhere then, as if they'd clogged up and he shook his head in a poor attempt to get rid of it. 

He noticed Skylar's puzzled expression, dark brows knitted together and his irises widened, taken aback.

"You two coming?"

"Y-yeah, yes," Jungkook quickly yelled and brushed past her towards the conference room.

And Skylar stood there, eyes resting on his tall figure.

What an odd guy.

»»»

[6 months later, during main story]

Mexico City, Mexico

"I can't believe I let her trick me like that," Skylar huffed, doing her best to fight against the urge of burying her face in her hands. Instead, she only shook her head, disappointment washing over her.

Jungkook gave her an empathetic look. "You're too hard on yourself," he said and settled for the seat across from her. "Seriously, don't let that get to you. Arabella Valentine is a sly one. She'd have tricked anyone and this was the first time you came face-to-face with her."

Despite her appreciating his attempt of cheering her up, her sulky expression only persisted. "I know. But considering I studied these criminals so well the past months and knew how mesmerising she can be to the point even Park Jimin constantly gets wrapped around her finger, I should've been better prepared. She caught me out completely and I know it's unprofessional but I.. I-" Skylar grew quiet before throwing her head back with a groan. "- but I quite profoundly and wholeheartedly dislike her."

Jungkook only bursted out laughing, quite amused by the usual level-headed Skylar losing her composure. "Because she handcuffed you onto the cabinet."

"Because she handcuffed me onto the cabinet," she confirmed.

It was the first time she had encountered the female thief and Jimin's 'frenemy' and love interest, and despite the stories and warnings, she wouldn't have guessed to get so easily fooled by her, too.

Quite frankly, Skylar felt her pride was hurt but more importantly she'd embarrassed herself. In front of Jungkook and worse, in front of their supervisor Seokjin. Despite him laughing it off and even joking about the situation.

"Ah, Sky, told you already. You're too uptight, loosen up! No one's judging you for that. I used to be like that, too, you know. I took everything too serious, I was so eager to prove myself.. But there's nothing to prove. You're good, otherwise you wouldn't be here."

In the past months and during long flights all across the globe and endless nights going over evidence and connecting the dots, he'd said the same. In the beginning she was indifferent and simply waved it off, then she got almost comically offended by his advices. By now it only made her exhale deeply, knowing he was right. Yet, it was hard to accept it.

"But she got away.." mumbled and propped her chin onto her hand as she looked out into the sunlit buildings outside the police precinct. 

Sometimes, she still felt like the outsider. The rookie. The newbie.

Everyone but her team colleagues looking down at her. Perhaps she was being paranoid, but sometimes it seemed like agents from the other teams and departments were talking about her behind her back. Like when she entered a room and everyone coincidentally stopped talking, people looking away when she caught them staring or hushed whispers around the corners.

It was surely all in her imagination, all these insecurities she'd felt while growing up and later in school, university and the academy, piling up. As if being half-korean and not looking like it at all wasn't bad enough, but with her mother being a diplomat and sending her to private tutors and lessons, it surely hadn't made it easier.

She wondered if any of her colleagues knew about it, wondered if they believed she only got so far because of her mother, despite her always being strictly against her daughter persuing that career and even joining Interpol.

The sound of typing interrupted her train for thoughts then and she saw Jungkook had begun looking over the security footage in the meantime, trying locating Jimin and Arabella's escape route after slipping away in the traffic.

"She'd have anyway," he eventually shrugged a gentle smile crossing his lips when glancing at her, "But you were the only one thinking about checking the archive. You were smarter than the rest of us."

That was true, she thought and it lightened her mood a tiny bit. A genuine smile tucking on her red lips. At least Jungkook never treated her differently, despite knowing about her background.

He was way more positive than her. Not that she was a pessimist, but when it came to herself she was certainly her biggest critic.

Her eyes wandered over the curve of his cheek, and the wave of his hair, and the way his shirt draped over his shoulders.

Shaking her head, she pulled her laptop closer to help him in his search.

"Cheer up, here." His sudden enthusiasm made her perk up from her screen and he turned his laptop to her. "Found where they went to. It's this café."

She arched a brow. "But do you really think they'll still be there? As if."

"Maybe not, but it's at least a clue and besides.." He rubbed his belly with an innocent smile. He got up then and flipped the device shut, gesturing for her to follow. "Come, I'll treat you to lunch. To make up for your hard day."

She huffed out a laugh. "I know you're making fun of me again. But I surely won't decline the offer."

And she gave him a wink before brushing past him.

The floral scent of her perfume staying a second more.

»»»

[a week later]

Jungkook couldn't help but giggle in childish amusement when seeing Skylar struggling matching his speed. They were doing laps to warm up and he'd decided to tease her a little more by speeding up.

"Jung-" she wheezed "-kook! You meanie!"

Another fit of chuckles errupted from his cheeky grin until stopping abruptly and looking behind him.

Her blond waves were in a high ponytail, swaying left and right as she jogged towards him. Nearing him with a scowl. 

They were both wearing the same standard field training attire, olive-green cargo pants and black shirts, almost looking like children whose parents' decided to give them matching couple outfits just for fun.

"Did you say anything?" he asked with a shit-eating grin, earning a roll of her eyes.

"We said we'd do a relaxed warm-up!"

He faked innocence at her adorable pout. "Oh sorry, must've forgotten."

Skylar could tell he hadn't but decided she didn't have the energy or will to continue arguing, being too exhausted after running like a maniac for five laps to try catching him.

"Are you two enough warmed up now?" the instructor at the training centre interrupted their bickering, both following him to the actual gym area.

Some would consider it a perk being able to exercise during work hours as field agents had to stay physically fit. Others again might consider it almost a punishment having to constantly work out.

Jungkook belonged to the first kind while Skylar was rather seeing herself in the second category. That day, however, she saw herself in the first one with him.

Defence training was on the schedule which she enjoyed as it was the only time she didn't feel totally inferior to Jungkook's muscular built which was quite the opposite to his sweet and juvenile face. And especially after Arabella having so skillfully fooled her last time, she felt she needed to freshen her skills.

An hour passed, grunts and small yells filling the area as both went through the exercises, either with the instructor or the training dummies. The air got stuffy after some, making the two eventually pause in need for a water break and to catch their breaths.

The instructor suggested for them to repeat the last couple of figures together the . One acting as the attacker and the other as the defender. So they positioned themselves on the training mat opposite of each other. Arms in front of them in a starting position.

"I'm apologising in advance, in case I'll hurt you," she said, causing Jungkook to scoff. He couldn't believe that smug smile on her gentle features.

"That's rich coming from the one always asking me to open her water bottles," he simply countered. Skylar's jaw dropped, about to retort something, when he began moving and she quickly composed herself.

Their movements were quick, she stepped in close to his body so when she turned, her right shoulder brushed his chest. Using the edges of her opened hands, she struck his upper and lower arm. Obviously she didn't do it too hard, it was more about doing the correct movements than using force. After all, she didn't want to actually hurt him.

Grabbing his arm, she twisted it until the heel of his hand pointed toward the ceiling. But then he pivoted, placing his right shoulder under her elbow and freeing himself. He walked backwards, facing her with a smug grin on his full lips. He brushed away the dyed strands that had fallen in front of his eyes with his tattooed hand as he took in the initial position. 

Skylar puffed out a breath, blowing off a strand that had loosened from her ponytail. There was determination written behind her long-eyelashes and her fingers gave him a daring wave, gesturing him that she was ready for his move.

Without saying a word, his body spun in an fast movement. Left hand pulled back into a fist, the other arm stretched out for a pretend-punch aimed at the spot beside her. But Skylar grabbed his wrist in time and forced it to stop mid-air while her other hand grasped the collar of his shirt.

And both came to an abrupt halt, staring at each other with heavy breaths. Sweat beads were rolling down their foreheads, hair sticking to their flushed skin. There was a sudden shift in the air between them, it felt tense, electrified even. And for a moment, Jungkook forgot where he was, the wave emerging from her eyes deep and dark, threatening to envelop him as he sunk in deeper in them. Almost swallowing him up. And there it was again, that faint ringing penetrating his ears. Until the instructor's loud clap yanked him back to reality. 

"Good! Back to the initial position and repeat!"

Skylar let out a shaky breath and loosened her fist from his shirt. Retreating slowly. Her brown irises fell to the bigger becoming space between them.

And she wondered if he also felt a short pain shooting through every fibre of his body when their faces were only centimetres apart from each other.

»»»

[a month later, set during the main story]

Skylar was laying in her hospital bed. Wide awake.

Hours had passed since Jungkook's visit - after a nurse had lost her patience and pressed him to leave as visiting hours had long ended and Skylar was supposed to rest. Yet, she couldn't just do that. Of course not. Laying there instead with eyes wide open, staring into the darkness.

Waking up there after three days of coma due to exhaustion should have had her shaken up. However, the main cause of her troubled thoughts was rather the situation that had brought this upon her to begin with. The memory of it replaying in her mind's eye in an endless loop.

Just a pinch between her shoulder, nothing more was needed from Jimin for her to succumb after catching him on his escape from the interpol building. 

It should've never come this far considering her self-defense skills, then how did it?

Certainly, she wasn't the only interpol agent these thieves kept outwitting, even her own supervisor getting fooled by them and yet, she felt humiliated it happened to her again.

Was Jungkook right? Did she overdo it and overwork herself?

Jungkook.. She should probably consider herself lucky to have such a sweet and caring person as her partner. He was always so considerate of everyone.

She wondered if he percieved her like that as well. As he himself always said, they had to look out for each other and that was what she always tried when they were out in the field. But somehow she felt like she failed. How was she supposed to look after Jungkook when she let herself get tricked by thieves so easily?

She sighed, her eyelids growing heavy eventually. 

"Let me guess," Jimin chuckled from behind, "You're into your little colleague, agent Jeon, right?"

Her eyes shot open at the sudden memory creeping up from the depth of her mind.

Jimin's teasing words while disarming her days ago still rang loud in her ears. And she frowned all over again about this random and profoundly wrong conclusion.

Sure, he was known for having excessive psychological skills and the ability to read through everyone, exposing them to his advantage, but even he could be wrong at least once. Right?

"T-that'd be highly unprofessional," she had defended herself back then and she stood by that. But now she regretted not simply denying it.

Yes, he was attractive and cute. Yes, he had a charming smile. Yes, he had a great personality.

No, she didn't have feelings for him. Not because it would've been unprofessional but because she simply didn't.

Right?

Jimin surely wouldn't have persisted calling it a crush if she had just denied it.

She was good in self-defence, she'd trained for this kind of situations. And yet, when he'd brought up Jungkook, it'd thrown her off completely. Distracting her. Of course, that was most likely the reason he had done it in the first place. He had only tried messing with her by bringing up Jungkook and she'd let him succeed. 

That was what bothered her the most, the fact she'd failed in freeing herself from Jimin's clasp in time before he'd began distracting her.

And that was also the only reason why he'd called Jungkook to pick up her unconscious self afterwards. He probably thought he'd do her a favour by not leaving her on the cold ground for too long, as amends for making her unconscious.

That was it. Anything else wouldn't make sense because Skylar did not have a crush or any romantic feelings towards her partner. 

She couldn't.

And still, she couldn't deny the warmth she'd felt when seeing him there. When waking up in that unknown environment, dazed and confused, meeting Jungkook's excited eyes and bunny smile gave her a wave of serenity.

He always made her feel safe. That was something no one else could.

»»»

Jungkook's gaze kept unconsciously returning to the empty desk in front of him.

It was funny in a way. Seven months ago he had struggled getting used to seeing her occupying the space instead of Namjoon and now, now he couldn't imagine anyone but her sitting there. And seeing it all empty gave him a restlessness he couldn't quite understand.

Truth was, when he'd seen Skylar lying unconscious against the wall, his heart had dropped to the pits of his stomach, filled with panic and fear. The mere possibility of anything happening to her, made his mind cloud with a dark fog.

Lost in thoughts, he kept nervously tapping the pen in his hands against the tabletop.

He secretly worried, he constantly worried for her and he didn't know why.

It wasn't because he considered her weak or incapable. He knew she was more than capable. Her scores at the gun training were always 90% or more. And she was able to defend herself, which she always proved whenever the two trained together. And she was intelligent, the smartest person he knew save for Namjoon, she wouldn't get herself in danger.

Then why was he constantly concerned over her well-being?

Probably because he wasn't blind, he saw her staying up on the plane while everyone was dozing off, going over the case files. Or staying in office after everyone was gone, to finish the paper work. Or how she constantly beat herself up whenever she believed she'd screwed up. Just like now, despite an hospital stay.

His eyes fell on the empty desk across from him again.

The relief he'd felt when she'd finally regained consciousness after three days was beyond description.

It was logical for him to worry, though. Of course it was.

Skylar was his partner. She was his friend.

»»»

[set after the final chapter of the main story but before its epilogue]

A knock on the car window disrupted the peaceful silence. Much to Jungkook's surprise, he saw none other than his partner waving at him from the other side of the glass before opening the door and sliding into the passenger seat. She immedietally took off her gloves to rub her cold hands in the warmness inside. The heating blasting from the dashboard in full mode

"Sky, what -" Cough, cough. "Are -"

"Save yourself from another coughing fit," she giggled and revealed a paper bag. Rummaging inside it before taking out a cup. "Here, drink."

Jungkook blinked, accepting the warm beverage. The steamy aroma of tea filling the car.

He opened the lid and blew on it before taking a sip. "What are you doing here? I thought -" Cough. "- Don was supposed to scope out with me tonight."

The blonde only shrugged, taking out another cup for herself. "I switched. Convinced him that he'd rather want to sit in a warm and cozy office and file the warrant requests than being out all night in the cold."

Her answer only puzzled him more as it rose more questions. "Didn't you prefer being in a warm and cozy office, too, though?"

"Of course," she nodded. 

"Then why did you do it?"

She smiled into the dark liquid between her hands. Taking a sip herself and letting it warm her her frozen body. "Because. You know, it's quite boring if you aren't around to keep me company," she admitted casually. Despite feeling her already pink cheeks blushing more. His lips parted, but before he could response anything, she cleared her throat and continued. "And besides, I know it ain't fun doing an observation. Especially not when you got a cold and the other person talks non-stop about themselves."

He chuckled under his breath and took another sip from the tea, soothing his itchy throat. "Guess that's true."

"It's you who should've been in the warm office, your nose is all red," Skylar pointed out then with a raised brow but he only waved her off.

"S'okay."

"You sure?" He wanted to roll his eyes but Skylar's delicate hand suddenly pressed against his forehead. A concentrating look on her soft edges. His breath hinched. His eyes flickering to her lips.

"You're warm, you must have temperature." She sat back, glaring at him with concern. "Jungkook, are you sure you're okay?"

And he smiled. "I am, don't worry."

To that Skylar only huffed and crossed her arms. "You're such a hypocrite, always telling me I shouldn't strain myself but here you are, sitting in a car in the middle of January for an observation while being sick."

"'am not," the round-eyed guy mumbled when an anew cough emerged and he quickly tried suffocating it with the warm tea.

"Fine, be stubborn and worsen your cold," she mumbled then, "But don't expect me to come and bring you soup or something." She shoved the paper bag into his lap then and he saw there were his favourite cup noodles, banana milk and a pack of antipyretic pills.

His lips formed a small grin. He wouldn't mind getting worse if that meant she'd take care of him really. Nonetheless, he swallowed one of the pills along with his tea.

For the next ten minutes they oberved the building in silence. Skylar felt her eyes closing on their own, having to constantly blink to keep them open. She wasn't the best in simply sitting there for hours without doing anything, hence why she despised observations. And Jungkook knew it. Of course he did after two years of knowing and working with her now.

And yet she chose to do an observation just to keep him company.

Most people thought of Skylar of the perfect balance of wit and charm. Fascinating and inaccessible, distant because of her demonstrated intelligence, and possessing such strength of character that she was dismaying and at the same time utterly attractive in an enticing and 'out-of-your-league' way. But to Jungkook she was more than that, more than simply smart, capable and beautiful. She was lovely, she was caring, she was adorable when upset and a real tease when competing with him.

But one thing he had to agree with, she was surely way out of his league.

"You know," he broke the silence, his voice quiter than he intended, "I read that classic novel you recommended."

At that any evidence of sleep washed away from her. "When?"

He frowned. "Why are you acting so surprised?" He sounded genuinely offended by her dumbfounded look and she quickly folded her lips.

"S-sorry, it's just that you yourself said you aren't much of a reader. That's why I've never expected you.." Her voice trailed off as she watched the cute pout on his lips grow. "And how did you find it? Did you like it?"

Jungkook made a thinking expression, biting his lips. "Honestly, I was confused in the beginning, but once I finally got the hang of it and used to the writing style, it was quite good. Less dramatic than I expected though."

She laughed. The lights of the dashboard giving her clear skin a faint blueish hue. "You expected it more dramatic? I found it quite dramatic as it was."

He shrugged with a lopsided grin, lingering on her dazzling large eyes a bit longer before averting his gaze back to the building he was supposed to observe all night long. "Perhaps I'm used to Hollywood-movie-drama. For the people back then it must've been quite dramatic."

Skylar couldn't help but give him a fond look. The fact he read one of her favourite books despite not being into reading, meant a lot. Especially as it wasn't a light read either, she knew.

"If I knew you'd read one of my recommendations I'd have suggested a classic romance novel, knowing you have a weak spot for such stories," she said, not teasing this time but with a nothing but affectionate smile.

"Name me one and I might read it if I find the time and will again."

"Let me think of one, after all I don't wanna be cliché and recommend Pride and Prejudice - although admittedly, it's brilliant."

"Oh, I've heard of the film  - can I just watch that instead?" His boyish grin made her laugh out.

"Sure, do whatever you want," she giggled, looking out at the dark streets again. The fluffy snow blanket covering all their dirty secrets. No one had entered or left the building of interest and no one was out at this hour unless they had some dubious business anyway.

"You know," she spoke up after awhile, "I also tried watching the movie you mentioned."

He perked up at this. "'Tried'?" he repeated chuckling, "So you didn't."

"I did!" she defended herself, "But.."

"But?"

She pursed her lips. "I cried."

"Huh?" He looked at her, dumbfounded.

A pout crossed her features and she looked out again. "I cried, okay? A bit. It made me cry."

His lips folded, contemplating whether his memory failed to remember the sad scenes or if there really weren't any. "But.. it's not a sad film," he smiled then.

"Not necessarily sad, but touching for sure," she mumbled bashfully, avoiding his glance so he wouldn't see her eyes tearing up again. She was good in keeping herself from sudden emotional outbursts, but she had a weak spot for plots like this. Although she rarely watched anime films, this one would surely go to the top of her list.

"You're cute."

Jungkook's sudden words made her turn slowly, looking at his smile with utter astonishment. No one had ever called her cute, save for when she was a child. She didn't find her face to be one that would commonly be considered 'cute' nor did she think her personality matched that description. And yet, she felt herself blushing.

Her lips parted, fiddling with her words when he looked ahead again and took another sip of his tea. Clearly missing her lack of words. "Okay, no films that may make you cry then. What about horror films?"

"Horror films?" Skylar asked surprised, glad for the change of topics. "I love horror films! I thought you were only into chickflicks and anime though."

He frowned, faking offence. "Not 'chickflicks' - romance and dramas. There's a difference!"

She giggled, rolling her eyes. "Alright, sorry. But why have you never told me you like horror films in all these years we know each other?"

He shrugged. In all honesty, he didn't expect her to actually be into this genre and was a little astonished over that. "Hm, why have you never mentioned it either?"

And the two shared a short laugh before going back to observing the building in silence. His eyes occasionally side-tracking and watching her instead.

Skylar wasn't just his partner. Neither was she just his friend.

She was the closest person to him.

»»»

[a few months later]

national treasury

Sejong, South Korea

"Team alpha, our man has been seen in the basement, near the left corridor."

"Roger that," Jungkook answered into the transmitter before pointing to their left with two fingers. Skylar gave him a nod and proceeded through the metal door with her gun aiming in front of her. Him following, eyes trained on every corner.

The basement of the national treasury was dim-lit, only security lights being switched. Bathing the corridors in wine-red and creating an eery atmosphere.

Skylar made a handsign, indicating she saw something suspicious. Shining the flashlights which were held right under their guns at the direction. And indeed, the massive door at the end of the corridor, was left a jar. Both exchanged a glance. It could've been a trap but they had to check it out nonetheless. 

Carefully, Junkook pushed it open and entered, shining into the darkness. He went further inside, Skylar illuminating the other side of the room. Cabinets, safe deposits but nothing more visible. Reaching its end, they realised the area was empty and lowered their arms with a disappointed sigh. 

His partner was about to propose to leave and check other places, only for a heavy noise behind them to catch their attention. They tensed and looked behind their shoulders. Against the red lights, the lean sillhuette of a man appeared and he waved at them. Jimin's laugh echoing through the dark then. "Don't worry! I'm sure the adults will find you soon."

Before they could react properly, he disappeared behind the massive safe door. Letting it click shut and leaving them both with a perplexed look in the light of their flashlights.

"No, no, no. No way," she muttered and shoved her gun into its holster before rushing to the metall door and desperately trying to push or pull it open, in vain. It didn't bulge even a little. Jungkook joined her, both grunting while taking turns in throwing their bodyweight onto it and pulling at the handles in a desperate attempt.

"It's really locked, huh?" he exhaled watching his partner retreat from it with a deep crease set between her brows.

"Seems like it.." She groaned, throwing her head back. "Great. That damn thief.. and what are we doing now?"

"Well," Jungkook shrugged after tapping his in-ear and not receiving any signal, just as expected considering that was one of the main security precautions of that safe. No reception. "I'm pretty sure agent Kim will look for us soon. He must notice we're missing."

Skylar only huffed though, taken aback by how relaxed he seemed. She observed him taking a seat on the ground, propping one arm on his angled knee while letting his flashlight wander around the room. The countless deposit lockers lined up on the walls covering everything in a cold silver.

"What do you think is inside there?" he asked. Brown eyes round from curiosity.

She sighed and walked up to him. Sliding down the wall and taking a seat beside him. She hated having to just sit and wait, not being able to do anything. She felt helpless and that was what they essentially were in that moment. All they could do was sit and wait for their colleagues or any security guards to find them. 

Tricked by those thieves once again. She had to laugh at how ridiculous it was.

With a dragged breath, she stared up to the ceiling. Her eyes peeked at Jungkook who was still looking around their surroundings with child-like awe. If it wasn't for the situation they were in, she'd have found it adorable. 

Quickly, she shook her head and coughed. She had to stay calm and focus. "I have no clue, Kook."

He hummed and began walking around. Lighting at the walls in search for any well or crack, but unable to make out anything like that. His gaze then went to the ceiling and the glass squares covering the lamps.

"Sky, would you come here for a second?"

"Why?" she asked but still got up, walking up him. Her eyes following his when he faced her with a mischievious smirk.

"I'll give you a leg-up and you try see if you can push in any of the squares. Maybe there's an intermediate ceiling."

She looked at him in disbelief. "Seriously?"

He simply nodded with certainty so she sighed, eventually nodding. 

Jungkook was glad that no matter how ridiculous Skylar found his ideas, she'd always agree to follow them. He didn't know whether it was because she trusted him or because she didn't want to put up with his persistence, but he was glad nonetheless.

He crouched down, folding his hands on the ground for her to put her foot on. She grabbed onto his sturdy shoulders as he hoisted her and she climbed onto them. Frankly, she got a fuzzy feeling being all up high on an a wobbly surface but he held her ankles firmly, so she dared an attempt to stretch. Barely touching the built-in lamps. 

With light grunts, she stretched more. Eventually managing pushing one of the lamps but with no success. It didn't bulge. "Dammit," she muttered and tried again by subconsciously raising her heels and slipping.

She shrieked out of shock, hands letting go of the flashlight and instinctively reaching out to hold onto nothing but air. In the split second she fell, she saw sporadic memories appear in her mind's eye when feeling strong arms enveloping her.

Jungkook had caught her fall in time, slowly setting her down. Her feet touching the ground of whose acquaintance she'd almost made.

Skylar's heart was racing, chest raising and falling rapidly as she breathed irregularly. And she stared at the soft ages of his dimly-lit face with a bewildered glare.

He was so close, he was so close and she couldn't feel her legs anymore. She couldn't feel her fingers or the cold or the emptiness of this room because all she felt was the warmth his body was radiating, everywhere, filling everything while his arms were still securely wrapped around her smaller frame.

And she couldn't help but recall the memory pieces she'd seen when falling. They all consisted of him. Pieces of them together. Of his sparkling eyes, crinkling when laughing, of his sweet smile, turning mischievious when teasing her and his gentle voice, calling her name.

"Sky, are you alright?"

She blinked, realising he was actually calling her. Concern engraved on his partly illuminated features due to her silence. "Y-yes." However, her fingers curled more around his biceps. Ensuring he wasn't an illusion of her imagination from hitting the ground after all. "Please," she whispered then, "Please, don't shoot me for this."

And before he had the chance to ask what she meant, she let go of all her self-control and instead, kissed him.

She kissed him like it was her only chance to ever do something so reckless and bold again, because it most likely was, and she had to make the most out of it.

His lips were softer than anything she'd ever known, soft like a first snowfall, like biting into cotton candy, like melting and floating and being weightless in water. It was so effortlessly sweet. But perhaps the best part of all that was that she, guilty of constantly analysing the world around her, stopped thinking. And it was amazing.

At least, until she started thinking again.

"You.. wow.." he breathed against her flushed lips then. If his pupils weren't already wide from the darkness, they'd surely been after that unexpected move.

"S-sorry," she stuttered, feeling silly and awkward when realising what she'd just done in the brief moment her logic was switched off. "I shouldn't - I mean, we're colleagues. Partners! We should not.. it was unproffessional. Let's forget about it." Her feet moved to step back, when she felt his hands holding her forearms firm in their place.

"Sky," he simply said and she immediately stopped in her tracks. "If you regret it because it happened in the heat of the moment, without any meaning to you, I'll forget and never mention it again." He paused. Her soft skin shining faintly in the light of the flashlights on the ground. His hands moved from her arms, to her shoulders and eventually came to a halt on her neck. And Skylar held her breath, unable to move her gaze away. "However," his voice deeper now, "If the only reason you regret it is out of fear what anyone at work might think, I'll remind you that no one's around."

Skylar swallowed. Unable to suppress the rush in her chest. "And.. and what about you?"

"Me?"

"Y-yeah, what do you.. think about it?"

He smiled before pulling her in. His lips finding hers again. She didn't even try to fight it, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling Jungkook closer. His hands wounded her hair, as he'd wanted to do since the first time he'd seen her. It curled around his fingers, silky and fine. Her lovely scent filled his nostrils. His heart was pounding hard, creating a rushing sound in his ears. It wasn't a ringing this time, though, it was like beating wings.

Until it was replaced with the jarring noise of the opening door, catching them off-guard. 

They practically pushed each other away, taking several steps back when multiple sillhouettes appeared at the frame of the opened door and they recognised Seokjin with security guards standing there. Bliding them with their flashlights and the two flinched.

"There you are! Jimin only left a note to look after 'the kids'," their supervisor laughed, seemingly highly amused by the situation. He turned around then, gesturing for them to follow. "Come, you two, there's no time to waste. He's still around the building."

"Y-yes, sir!" Both exclaimed in unison, peeking at each other before rushing out. Almost bumping at each other when trying getting through the door at the same time.

She nudged him then when the others were several steps ahead.

"You got lipstick around your lips," she said in a rushed whisper before picking up her pace and joining Seokjin, who was giving them new instructions.

And Jungkook smirked, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

It was good the security lights were still switched on and no one could see their flustered faces and excited smiles. Or her own smudged lipstick.

They surely had a long night in front of them.

»»»

[two months later]

Interpol branch office

Seoul, South Korea

"I'll do it - should I do it? I'll do it. No -"

Skylar turned around, ready to head back to her desk when she bumped into something hard. Stumbling back, she came face to face with her boyfriend who was arching a brow at her.

"What are you doing?"

"I- nothing," she said firmly, "Going back to my desk." She was about to brush past him when Jungkook grabbed her arm, pulling her back.

"Why aren't you going inside?" he asked. His voice was calm and it sounded like a genuine question, yet there was a judging tone in it. "You should go in and talk to him, just like we practiced."

A sulky expression crossed her face and she looked away. "I- I forgot what we practiced. I mean, I got a blackout okay? I can't, let's just-" Her anew attempt of leaving once again prevented by him.

"Sky, why are you so nervous? You'd be perfect for the position. Just give agent Kim your official application and explain why you want it."

She sighed, peeking at him with a meek smile. "You know.. I don't like when people have such high expectations of me.. I usually like to crush them." It was one of her personality flaws, she supposed. Just like she had done by not following the plans her mother had made for her life.

"Is it expectations if I'm certain that you'll succeed though?"

"That's so cheesy of you," she whispered with a giggle, "But if we weren't at work I'd kiss you for that."

"You can kiss me later at home," he chuckled, tucking a stray streak of hair behind her ear and cupping her cheek briefly before letting go. Knowing she didn't want to risk anyone there finding out and hence always reminding him to keep any display of affection at bay.

With Jimin's gang suddenly retiring in Taiwan, one of the few countries Interpol had no jurisdiction at and agent Seokjin deciding to get married to an agent from the organised crime department and stepping down from a field agent and the supervisor position in favour for an office one, a supervisor position in the robbery department would soon be vacant.

And Skylar wanted it.

After four years there she'd quite many success stories to list, from leading a joined unit with the narcotics department to discovering several hideouts of bootleggers. But still. "They won't consider me for the position anyway," she said, bitterness lingering in her words, "I'm only thirty and too young, it'd be against the usual custom for an agent this young to become a lead. And I know some are side-eyeing me for my family background. If I really ended up getting the position, people would probably say mother pulled some strings. And besides.." She briefly glanced up at him, before her eyes wandered around the area for any unwanted ears. "..what about us?"

A crease formed between his furrowed brows. "What do you mean?" he whispered, matching her hushed tone.

"I mean," she said, wiggling her index finger between them, "It's already bad enough we're secretly dating despite being partners. But dating while me being your supervisor? That'd be ten times worse."

His lips parted, exhaling deeply. "Oh," he slowly began then, affliction evident in his eyes, "I don't wanna be the reason for you not getting your dream position."

"No, no, you wouldn't, Kook," she quickly objected, shaking her head as she touched his hand. Giving it a soothing squeeze, "As I told you, they wouldn't consider me anyway."

"I'm sure they will," he smiled, "As far as I know, agent Kim was even younger when becoming the team lead. He'll surely put in a good word for you to the higher ups. And I'll also do so, if asked. So?" he nudged her then, "Will you stop being a coward and go to his office now? Otherwise I'd feel forced to carry you inside there. And you surely don't want people talking, right?"

She groaned at his bright grin, knowing he would absolutely do as threatened if needed. It should annoy her, but she knew it was only for her own good. So she eventually sighed. "Fine, no need for your dramatics." 

"Good girl," he nodded and turned her around by the shoulders, giving her a light push towards the door. "Good luck, although I know you won't need it."

"You're way too certain about this and I don't like it. You'll get more disappointed than me if I don't get it."

Jungkook straightened himself, staring at her with firmness.

"I know you will though."

»»»

[six months later, set during the sequel]

"Sorry for making you wait."

Skylar smiled when seeing her boyfriend nearing her with hasty steps. Pushing herself off the wall of the underground parking lot to greet him when he pecked her lips as soon as he reached her.

"Iew!" she scrunched her nose with a giggle, hitting his chest playfully, "You're all sweaty! Didn't you take a shower after work out?"

"Ah, no. Since it took more time, I didn't want to make you wait any longer than necessary," he explained, throwing his gym bag over his shoulder and pushing back the raven strands that were stuck on his forehead. "I'll just shower at home."

The blonde hummed, brown eyes shifting towards the ground. "Besides, we said not at work.." she mumbled with a light scowl, causing him to roll his eyes.

"It's literally past office hours and no one's around." He let out an overly dramatic sigh, pretending being disappointed. "And here I thought I finally rubbed off on you.." He held his hand out for her which she accepted with no hesitation and he tucked her towards their cars. 

He never took her concerns personally, he knew where they came from after all, especially these past months. However, sometimes she exaggarrated and was a tad too paranoid. At least in his eyes.

"Mine or yours?" he asked then with a raised brow, seeing her shrug.

"Let's go to yours. I don't have any food left in the fridge."

His brows wiggled at her. "Who says there's any in mine?"

Her lips parted, laughing as well. "Didn't you go grocery shopping two days ago?"

"Yeah, and I already ate it all," he grinned, "I burn lots of calories after all."

Frankly, she should've learned in all the years knowing him that this man could eat three full plates of food on his own and yet she still got surprised every time over his metabolism. "Fine, let's order something then."

"Did you finish off all the paper work by the wax?" He unlocked his car and slid inside. Skylar following him by taking the passenger seat.

"Yeah, I did. Wasn't too much after all." She dragged a breath while putting on her seat belt. Propping her cheek on her fist. He started the engine and drove the car out of the underground parking area. Taking a turn, heading west to his apartment. The sun hadn't set completely yet, tinting the sparsely spread clouds in warm evening colours. "She really didn't seem to have any clue about where all the stolen goods might be hid at.."

Musing over her words for a moment, Jungkook eventually nodded to himself. "I'll do a background check on eventual hidden bank accounts and rented places tomorrow."

She hummed, biting down her lips as they curled into a soft smile. "What a diligent subordinate."

Without averting his eyes from the road, he reached for her hand and gave it a light squeeze before leading it to his warm lips. "Gotta impress the boss after all."

Jungkook watched her blush from the corner of his eyes and chuckled under his breath.

It had been four months now since she'd got promoted and he never tried hiding how proud he was of her. Sometimes she pretended getting annoyed, but he knew that she secretly enjoyed it very much and simply wasn't used to it. Especially considering she wouldn't hear these words from her family. At least not her mother who Jungkook had the displeasure to meet, way before they'd started dating. It was only once but it had been enough for him to determine her personality, since Skylar herself wouldn't talk much about her - let alone speak ill of her.

He'd never admit it to her, not wanting to hurt her pride, but he pitied her a lot for that. He couldn't imagine not having both his parents' support hence why he made sure to be the one giving her lots of affirmation instead.

Particularly now with Jimin and his gang suddenly making a comeback in thievery after only half a year of retirement and everyone in the team, especially Skylar as the team lead now, being in a tizzy because of it. Even Seokjin having returned for extra support for this occasion. Not that they minded, they had missed their senior colleague's cheeriness and bad humour.

They eventually reached Jungkook's apartment and ordered food, him ordering a double portion obviously, before settling in front of his big flat-screen. Watching a survival show Skylar didn't really care about, but it was Jungkook's favourite so she didn't mind. It was too warm for her to concentrate on anything anyway. She was at her second scoop of ice cream, unable to cool herself. Not even a shower having helped.

She was sitting beside him, cross-legged and focused on her dessert. Her damp hair was flowing over her shoulders, slightly wetting the collar of her tanktop. A few small streaks framing her high cheekbones. He observed her dark brows knitting together then, struggling with a brain freeze before recovering and going back to digging into her ice cream. And he breathed out a smile. 

He was helplessly and irrecoverably in love with her. Probably was from the very first day, even if he'd ignored the signs back then.

"Sky, say.."

She looked up from her caramel ice-cream, leading the spoon into her mouth with a frown as he'd stopped mid-sentence, making him huff out a chuckle. His arm stretched and he wiped away a bit of the cold sweet from her chin. A dragged sigh leaving his lips then, he shifted uncomfortable in his seat.

Uncertain of whether to repeat himself or simply letting go of the knowingly difficult topic, his eyes focused back on the show they were watching.

"Nothing.. just forget about it."

Maybe it was easier to pretend that he didn't want more out of this, always wanted. From the very beginning eight months ago, Skylar had been very clear and he had promised to respect her wishes. And yet, his heart couldn't help but crumble each time they worked on cases together and had to suppress even the smallest display of affection in fear anyone would sense there was more between them than just being team members.

However, despite him playing it off, as he usually did for her sake, Skylar couldn't help but notice the affliction in his eyes. She always did. 

It wasn't like she didn't sympathise with him. It wasn't like she never got just as frustrated as him. It wasn't like she didn't feel the same. However, she was scared of losing everything at once if she dared saying anything.

She was one of the youngest team leaders in the history of the South Korean branch office. And a woman and half-foreigner on top of it all. She couldn't risk having her colleagues discrediting her or their work and scrutinise every little decision she made when knowing she dated her former partner and now subordinate.

And yet. there were also times when she thought none of that mattered anyway, because it was him. Because it was Jungkook. The sweet goofball who always had her back and had saved her ass more times that she could count.

Slowly, she put the bowl aside onto the coffee table where his legs were spread onto. Untangling her own legs, she knelt next to him on the couch.

"Hey," she poked his cheek with a pout, tilting her head. "Don't ignore me."

"'Am not," he chuckled and caught her wrist before she could poke him anew. "Just watching the show."

"I know you ain't actually paying attention."

Rolling his eyes, he held her gaze. Unable to dismiss the sorrowful sparkle in her big eyes. "Sky, it's.. it's okay." He forced himself to smile with his lips pressed together. Redirecting his gaze back on the flatscreen before he even had the chance to say something absurd and irrational like suggesting to make their relationship public.

The screen suddenly turned black and his brows arched at her.

"Let's talk about it."

"Is there anything to talk about though?" His voice holding genuine confusion. "I get your reasons and you know I'm supporting you no matter what. I just.." His voice trailed off. Shy eyes found hers again as she was intently listening to him. A faint smile on his face as he cupped her rosy cheek. "I'd love if this thing between us was real."

"It is real to me," she frowned, covering his hand with hers. "Just 'cause we keep it a secret from our colleagues doesn't mean it isn't." 

Skylar knew she wasn't as good in showing her affection or romantic nature as he was, but she thought that by now he'd know her feelings for him and that their relationship was more than just a fling or a little after-work affair to her.

The crush she once had - and which that thief had perfectly deducted years ago even if she hadn't acknowledged it - having developed into way more by now. She knew she loved him.

The corners of his lips tucked into a wider smile. Hearing that made his heart-flutter, the validation that this meant more to her as well. "Alright, let me replace 'real' with 'official' then," he said, making her smile as well. And she drew closer to him.

"Alright."

His grin faded, taken aback. "Alright?" he repeated, unsure.

"Yeah, alright. Let's do it. Let's make it official. No secrecy anymore."

"I didn't say that to pressure you. I wouldn't want us to get in trouble at work a-"

"Honestly, screw them!" she cut him off, sitting back with folded arms. "I'm sick of having to fear losing my position just because I love you. It's not like we'd be making out in front of everyone or bicker while interrogating a criminal. We wouldn't even have to tell everyone."

"We wouldn't?"

"No, I checked that."

His grin returned. "You.. you did?"

"Yeah, we'd only have to tell my higher-up and sign some papers. Son from the other team told me a week ago. He had to do it once when dating an agent from division 3. Did you know that? And agent Kim literally married Yongsun from organised crime, so.." Adry laugh left her lips. "I better not catch anyone talking about us."

Jungkook remained silent for a moment, humming as he let her words sink in.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he spoke up then. He didn't sound mad, just curious. And Skylar exhaled deeply, peeking at him before her gaze drifted into the warm night.

"I wasn't sure if it'd be as easy for us, you know.." she admitted truthfully, not being as riled up anymore. "We're not just co-workers and we don't work in different departments or teams. I'm your supervisor. And a woman, so I have to prove myself and all that bullshit." She frowned at her words. "But I'm tired of it all. And it isn't fair to you nor me. We shouldn't have to hide. We're not the criminals here."

Another deep hum followed from him and he glanced at her. She was still turned away, her waves flowing in the night breeze as she was staring out the window. A pensive expression on her features.

"Sky?"

"Hm."

A beaming smile found its way on his lips then.

"You said you love me."

"And?"

"That's the first time you did."

He watched her freeze. In her upsetness she hadn't realised those words slipping out of her lips. She turned around with shocked eyes and he couldn't help but burst out laughing. Her expression instantly softening at the sight. She wasn't regretting saying it, she only regretted the way she had.

"Stop making fun of me!" she whined then, grabbing his tattoed arm and pulling at it in an attempt to make him stop, but it only worsened it. "Jungkook!"

"I'm- I'm not!" he breathed in between of laughing. It was always a hilarious thing to him whenever his collected girlfriend slipped like that.

"I'll take it back if you don't stop."

"Oh yeah, make me?" he challenged her with a smug grin. Seeing her huff, crossing her arms again.

"You're so childish."

"And yet you love me."

Her lips parted, about to defend herself when instead, she got silenced by his kiss. He knew it was the only way to end their bickering.

He pulled back then, brushing a streak of hair away that smelled after his shampoo before placing both palms on her cheeks, squishing them lightly. He was beaming from ear to ear and it was a breathtaking sight.

"Don't worry, if anyone tries messing with you, I'll talk to them. You know how convincing I can be."

Skylar giggled. Yeah, good looks and an easy-going personality made him 'Mr Popular' and he knew when to use it. "I can defend myself," she pouted, "But thank you."

He nodded and was about to lean in again for another peck, when he abruptly paused. Staring at her with a firm yet tender look. 

"I love you, too, by the way. In case it wasn't obvious all these years."

THE END

»»»

- hope you enjoyed the one-shot, giving more insight to Skylar and Jungkook and to some events during the three full fanfics

-make sure to check out the other stories as well for full context of this universe!

-a seokjin x yongsun oneshot will also follow soon (hopefully)!

And don't forget to like, reblog & leave feedback!♡ It motivates me to keep writing :)

[sevs-corner]

Tf 141: Mafia AU! - Ch 2: Mini Epilogue

{A/N: I might make this a regular thing 'cause I love character development} Link below to the 2nd Chapter :DD

Graves never knew he could laugh that hard.

It was like he got left hooked by that hooker again. Swift and out of nowhere- knocked him out of his knickers really. (Yes, he did wake up without it after being knocked out cold.)

It was said so nonchalantly and off-handedly like it was natural for you to assume that he was the 'boogeyman incarnate.'

He was just so amused by you blatantly and ever so confidently insulting him, right in front of his face.

He was quite surprised himself, usually- if someone had insulted him right in front of his face- a barrel would instantly be between their eyes, or a quick flip of his knife would find itself lodged right besides one of their ears-- whichever he was in the mood for really.

But you.

The glaring exception that he stumbled upon when he just wanted to do a quick smoke at his favorite spot at the bakery.

Before he even entered, he heard murmurs echoing, waking him out of his tired stupor and sobering himself up as he prepares to- potentially- make contact.

It might be that stupid cat that hates him whenever he goes to this spot, but with all the clearly pronounced non-cat like "meows-" he guesses it would be a person, playing with that ridiculously hedonistic cat. (He knows that plump white cat gets spoiled by Nonna and Nonno when they see 'em.)

So he rounds the corner, silently, steps carefully calculated with the intent of dodging anything that would make a sound.

Yet he pauses, taking a better look at you.

‘Who the hell were you?’

Why was there a stranger at his Nonna and Nonno’s place? There was no way you were a thief, judging from the looks of your outfit and how utterly careless of a job you did if you ever infiltrated this place.

Also…why a bakery? Were… you that hungry?

Maybe… he could provide a better source of income for you, instead of living the live of an unruly street rat.

Even if you were a new face, you had to know the rules of the street.

So he asks, and just like that cat- you jump and unceremoniously land on your ass. Yewouch.

He keeps the grimace to himself, keeping his guard up as you seem to…

not?

be intimated?

by him???

What is going on.

Now, he definitely has to get your ID and papers from the border patrol at the edges of the city. There was no way that someone from this city would act like this, especially if they have been out and around.

He wanted- no... that wasn't right... needed to know who you are.

You were like an itch at the back of his head that he couldn't scratch. Whether you were a threat or not, a new person in town never bode well for the families.

His gut tells him that he discovers a new cog in this creaky old machine he call his home.

So, he follows you through the back door, but was unfortunately stopped by that dreaded cat that was waiting for to lower his guard enough to assault him from the shadows.

He definitely needs his vengeance on that cat.

Once he gets away, he slicks back his hair in a huff as he went in and watch you absent-mindedly wash your hands.

"mio figlio*!" {A/N: Italian for "my son"}

He turns and smiles, "Nonna! I miss you!" opening his arms for a hug but all the old woman did was click her tongue and cross her arms.

"I'm surprised you didn't call me old hag," she sends an unimpressed look to him who reacted sheepishly, "why are you here?"

He pouts, "'cause I missed you and Nonno obviously."

"sure," she deadpans, "you're always welcome here son."

"I know that."

She irks at his confidence and proceeded to lift her foot, aiming for him until she sees at the corner of her eye- you, washing your hands for the umpteenth time now.

Connecting the dots and seeing where her son just came from, she smirks and lowers her foot.

"So you met cara?"

He raises his brow and nods, "did you find your new housekeeper from out of town?"

Seeing as how you had the bakery's apron on, he knew that you worked here, as well as the point that you looked a little too comfortable in the well-guarded space of Nonno. (Nonno's kingdom is the kitchen and anything the light touches in that space, anything outside of it is out of his control.)

Hence he charted it up to you being affiliated to either of the hags, and since Nonna just freely strolled up to him-- he'll take his chances.

But she shrugs, making him frown.

"Just came in last night," she begins explaining, "with John and his boys."

Graves sighs, another factor he did not want to think about at the moment.

"John's friend then?"

She shook her head again, making his creases grow deeper. If you weren't related to John, then how did you get to this place? By accident? This spot is so secluded in already desolate part of town, there was no way you came here intentionally. So, he continues gathering information from Nonna.

"Poor cara bumped into Kyle and was so sick that she couldn't get up," Nonna sympathizes, "had to let her stay for the night and let Johnny take care of her 'till the morning."

"Johnny?" He asks a bit astounded, "took care of a stranger?"

She raised her brow, "you think he did it willingly?"

He lets out a short laugh, "you're right."

"She's been cleaning her hands for the 10th time now," Nonna points out, "I think she still haven't sweated the sick off."

He looks at you, and-- lo and behold, you still were, eyes clearly in a daze as you stare at the wall, hands in an endless cycle of washing and drying off.

"You still say that?" He smirks at her shrug.

"Its true."

Graves watches his Nonna turn around to leave, only to get pinched by her again after scrutinizing your hand washing technique. (A++ for thoroughness.)

"Go and snap cara out of it," she nudges his signature mug in his hand, giving his Nonna a thanking smile while she just rolled her eyes- knowing that he could handle the situation that is you.

And so he does, and your reaction is as skittish as ever, even more so than that blasted cat-- maybe he should just call you 'micia.' {A/N: Italian for cat/kitten}

Although your quips immediately erased that thought, how DARE you call him-- a what?

'a boogeyman incarnate?'

First it was a tombstone (he knows that fairly well) but this?

THIS?

This is new.

And... he doesn't quite mind the light, fuzzy feeling in his chest when he got it.

A new refreshing face you are indeed, making him feel things he hasn't before.

So he tries to explain, why he was so apprehended before you left, despite the wheezes that seemed to be never ending.

He wants it to stop but it feels like he walked into a room filled with laughing gas, and it was quite... addicting.

Now he finds himself staring at you, working both the front and back of the bakery like it was a routiened thing ingrained in your brain. Maybe you waited tables before? You looked experienced, both in terms of service and communicating with customers.

He had half a mind to listen to his Nonna's rant about Nonno and the state of this place, but the other half was on you.

You with the messy hair, a food-stained apron, deep bags on your eyes, frame quite frail, hands shaken-- yet a smile stayed so bright like the sun above you in the alleyway.

Now he genuinely wonders how you found yourself here.

Were you like him? Needing a place to call home?

He hums, letting his thoughts spiral until it lands on you again. The you that snapped out of your rhythm and talked with a snark to John and his gang, quite similar in the manner that you did with him- making him grin quite a bit.

Nonna sees this and smirks, patting Graves' shoulder before standing and calling out to you.

He sees the color pop in your eyes, sparkling in wonder as you ask what Nonna wanted before it fully opens in shock at her words. He knew that the old hag likes messing with her kids.

Wanting to know what you were so shocked about, he approached the table with a smirk, a nod in greeting to the others while you were still in a panic, shakily holding onto Nonna's shoulders as you begged her for an explanation.

"Why don't you finish the lunch rush first, cara?"

So you resigned and nodded, having no choice but to comply to finish that part of the list. One ticked off, another tick to do.

As you finish that part of your shift, albeit more slowly now as fewer people entered and finished off their plates, you did a final check up and removed your apron with a relieved sigh.

Sitting with the rest, right in the middle of Suds and Nonna, as you held onto your own mug of cuppa.

You first listen in to the conversation, letting them lead the conversation as you think of ways of how to convince Nonna to give you minimum wage.

Even if it was a single bill for an hour- you'd take it. You just needed to start somewhere, and you would use this stumbled-upon-opportunity to the utmost possible way.

Once the conversation redirects to you and your situation, you took a sip and decided to explain what happened last night.

"That apartment's been run down for years..." Gaz, who you now learned was the kind man who took care of you last night, mentioned softly-- hands fidgeting above the table as he glanced at you and Price- the big boss man- nervously.

"Aye," Soap- you'd like to still call him Suds for fun- agreed with furrowed brow, "ye' said that ya friend lent it to ye' while ya' find a job 'ere?"

You nod, "that's the gist."

"Quite a ways away you are then," Price frowned, "this bakery is at the opposite end from where you need to be, hun."

You groan, sliding further down your seat- thinking of how the unlucky streak you've had has been fucking you up in more ways than Britney has 99 problems.

After a quiet moment of reprieve, you sat up again and down your shot of cuppa courageously.

"I have a proposal."

Nonna gleamed, arms crossed and an ever so present smirk on her face (just like Grieves.)

"Go on then, cara."

You inhaled and nodded, "I know I'm not in a position to ask but while I finish the list, can--"

You hesitated, knowing the heat of their gazes was crawling under your skin and making it itch, but you decided what you had to do-- whether it would to good or bad results thereon.

"-can... can I ask if its possible? Possible to get minimum.. wage.."

She perks up, and this makes you feel that you have to explain more--

"wh-what I mean is that--"

"You want to work here then?" She smiles, her voice soft, quite different from how she's talked to you so far.

You better consider her words now, thinking if it meant what it truly meant.

You nodded and she sighed in relief.

"Good," she pats your arm, "I was starting to feel guilty from how good you were working."

"So you did feel bad!" You glared at the old woman who simply laughs it off, ruffling your hair as your pouted.

"I did, but a job needs to be done."

"And I happen to be here- I know."

You both giggle and finally feel a bit more relaxed, that tension of holding onto that issue now gone quickly as soon as it was brought up.

"What if I contributed to that minimum wage?" Graves suddenly offers and you both turn to him in shock, one in confusion while the other in appreciation.

"Why?"

"I knew I raised you right mio figlio!"

Graves smirks, leaning back onto his chair with his hands in his pockets, "just want to pitch in to the cause."

You huffed, "I'm not a charity case...sir."

He chortles again, knowing that it was hard for you to deny the extra pay as it goes against your morals.

"No, no-" he corrects, "think of it as a son, helping his ma."

He wraps an arm around Nonna's shoulders, making her snuggle into his embrace happily while he looks to the four smugly. He knew that- with this proposal- he'd have more opportunities to... get to know you better per se.

"Then we want to help to," Price proses as well, making Graves throw him a quick pointed glare that earns him the same from the other three.

If he knew John as if he was his brother, then he knew he has a card hiding up his sleeve.

But its still to early to look into that, so he lets it happen.

You, on the other hand, were quite in a predicament of accepting it or not. You still wanted to repay both Price, Nonna, and Nonno (for lodging and food)- but it would be quite awkward if you did so through the means of their own money going back to them.

Although, from the looks of their faces, it seemed like they weren't going to stand down so you nodded- checking in with Nonna if that was alright with her and she simply grinned, an enthused reply of "yes! My sons are the best~!" coming from her.

"So," you cleared your throat, "I start today?"

Nonna thinks about it for a moment, "I don't see why not."

You internally cheer at this.

"Which means you have to know about the family business!"

The table shakes as the men stand in protest, but she pays no mind to it as your focus gets directed to her forcing eye-contact with you by grabbing both your cheeks.

"The family...business?"

"Yes!" you could hear the others scream but you could only hear the next words coming out of her mouth as she whispers...

"we're... a mafia family!"

Hearing this, the color- which is ironic as it is already colorless and pale- drains from your face, making you slump and faint in shock- brain shutting down as you.exe required a self-reboot.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP! THE WHOLE LOT OF YOU!"

Nonno enters, now pissed off at the mess and was going to ask you until his brows raised in question at his wife, carrying you by the face- was shaking your limb body awake.

Once again, you regret taking the offer of someone trying to 'un-fuck' your week.

A/N: A little long bit this time hehe (i enjoy writing Graves being one of the first charas that gets "enamored" by you, just because he sees you as an oddity in the city. He actually went to visit Nonna that day because he was so tired of his current life, that he needed a change of pace. He was thinking of helping around for a bit before exploring his options but, lo and behold, you appeared and presented a different kind of opportunity of experience he has yet to feel <//3) All of the boiyos are touch-starved and sometimes- in their moments of weakness- they ache for it hehe Thank you for reading! Next chappie will be up soon (im havin too much fun with world building this au)

[catcze]

You have arrived at:

⠀⠀��� ⠀# F O N T A I N E ⠀」

⠀ ⠀ [ # MULTIPLE CHARACTERS ] ⠀ ⠀

Giving them random kisses [part 2] ⠀ ⠀— Wriothesley, Neuvillette, Lyney, Kaveh, Alhaitham

⠀ ⠀ Waking him up in the middle of the night, asking for food ⠀ ⠀— Wriothesley, Alhaitham, Cyno, Scaramouche / Wanderer, Xiao, Childe, Kaveh, Diluc, Neuvillette, Kazuha, Ayato, Albedo, Kaeya, Thoma, Zhongli

⠀ ⠀ Wearing his clothes ⠀ ⠀— Kazuha, Wriothesley, Neuvillette, Kaveh

⠀ ⠀ [ # WRIOTHESLEY ]

⠀ ⠀— Arranged Marriage

⠀ ⠀— Wrapping his fists after he gets into a fight

⠀ ⠀— Domestic life

⠀ ⠀— Dog boy Wriothesley with a tail

⠀ ⠀— Wriothesley making out with you after a fight (suggestive content)

⠀ ⠀— Friends with benefits + mutual pining

⠀ ⠀— Wriothesley tending to your wounds

⠀ ⠀— Wolf Hybrid Wriothesley

⠀ ⠀— Wriothesley with scruff

⠀ ⠀— He gets spooked in haunted houses

⠀ ⠀— Wrio x a con artist

⠀ ⠀— Breaking up with him (crack, but also angst)

⠀ ⠀— Giving him the silent trearment

⠀ ⠀— Wrio who steals your cute accessories

⠀ ⠀— Bodyguard Wriothesley

⠀ ⠀— You make me understand what the love songs are talking about.

⠀ ⠀— College AU with bad boy Wrio as your boyfriend who loves you

⠀ ⠀— Trying to get out of bed but he's being an ass (fluff ♡)

⠀ ⠀— Gifting him a collar

⠀ ⠀— [City of stars] singer! reader x Wriothesley

⠀ ⠀— Motherfucker stole your donuts

⠀ ⠀— Wrio learning how to speak tagalog for Filo! reader

⠀ ⠀— Trying on his gauntlets

⠀ ⠀— Does he take initiative?

⠀ ⠀— When you have to wake up before him

⠀ ⠀— Finding stickers all over him (somewhat suggestive)

⠀ ⠀— Wriothesley admiring you in the flowers

⠀ ⠀— Matching jewelry

⠀ ⠀— Your dog is stealing your boyfriend!

⠀ ⠀— He always takes care of you when you're drunk

⠀ ⠀— You won't regret marrying me

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀— Sorta Sequel :  He cries on your wedding day

⠀ ⠀— Sharing a smoke (suggestive)

⠀ ⠀— Taking care of sick! reader

⠀ ⠀— Trying to rizz you up, but you fluster him instead

⠀ ⠀— Wriothesley can open cans with one hand

⠀ ⠀— Painting his nails

⠀ ⠀— You can ask me for anything

⠀ ⠀— He insists on carrying all your shopping bags

⠀ ⠀— Wrio & reader with a similar dynamic to Vi and Caitlyn

⠀ ⠀— Wriothesley touring your sons around the fortress (reader is called 'mom' but no pronouns were used)

⠀ ⠀— Carrying you because of an injured foot

⠀ ⠀— Reader knew Wrio when he was younger

⠀ ⠀— Boobs, thigh, or ass? (suggestive content)

⠀ ⠀— Wild West Wriothesley

⠀ ⠀— Wriothesley angst

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀— Sequel : Happy ending !!

⠀ ⠀— He melts in your arms when he's tired

⠀ ⠀— He makes a pink tea party for you !

⠀ ⠀— Laying down on him

⠀ ⠀— Caring for you on your period (afab reader)

⠀ ⠀— Wriothesley has a lip piercing

⠀ ⠀— [Sorta Tangled AU] Thief! Wrio x Royal! reader

⠀ ⠀— Accidentally wearing his shirt

⠀ ⠀— Athlete Wrio x Cheerleader Reader

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀— Sequel : More ideas !!

⠀ ⠀— Seeing you in the sunshine

⠀ ⠀— Little Red and the Wolf

⠀ ⠀— Making out in a corner of the fortress

⠀ ⠀— "Why do you love me?"

⠀ ⠀— When he sees you in a fitted suit

⠀ ⠀— Wrio flirting in french

⠀ ⠀— Reader doesn't like tea

⠀ ⠀— Asking Wrio for a big hug

⠀ ⠀— You're his world

⠀ ⠀— Comfort for bad days

⠀ ⠀— Giving you his coat when you're cold

⠀ ⠀— Sigewinne knows

⠀ ⠀— 1920's crime boss Wrio

⠀ ⠀— He gives you princess treatment (gn reader)

⠀ ⠀— Patching him up after a fight

⠀ ⠀ [ # NEUVILLETTE ]

⠀ ⠀— Does he take initiative?

⠀ ⠀— Dangerously yours

⠀ ⠀

[collisiondiscourse]

codi i have GOT to know ur BKDK fics i wanna know which ones make u absoutly feral

HIIII REY this week's patented fic rec list comes to u sponsored by beloved tumblr user narwhalsarefalling

as always, read the tags and continue at your own discretion! some fics will be nsfw or contain triggering topics, so please proceed with caution. with that being said, LETS GOOOO!!!!

fraycheck by surveycorpsjean - surveycorpsjean is genuinnely one of my favorite fic writers ever, and with very good reasons as to why. this is a post-canon pro-heroes au, mixed with soulmates as a concept (technically not a soulmates au). absolutely heartfelt. i adore this fic! contains depictions of alcohol, drugs, and nsfw.

lions in our hearts by yabakuboi - a damn good fic! its a hogwarts au which i usually avoid out of personal principles, but this fic is charming and sweet and a good story about first loves and ambitions. has alcohol and i think very light depictions of violence

nobody else (can take me higher) by jeka - jeka's writing is amazing. i miss here here. jeka's so cool. did i mention i love jeka's fics? i'm currently reading this one! it's thrilling and action-packed, and i'm always down for grumpy-soft kacchan. its a pacific rim au!

miss you a latte by gravitates - short and sweet! quirkless college coffee shop au where bkdk are exes but its not angsty!! its funny and sweet for anyone looking for a bite-sized fic

how to catch a thief by sanjusangendo333 - saw this as a twitter thread but it got posted! a cute short fic about boyfailure hacker deku and tired office worker bakugou and why you probably shouldnt break into your neighbors home

[whatwouldsylwrite]

At least I got you in my head (2.5)

(2)

Summary: Abby is straight. And then you move in with her.

Tags: modern au, fem!reader, straight!abby (she is doing some comphet bullshit), pining, idiot in love and it's abby, reader is gay and tired.

Notes: small blurb, mostly about your suffering in the morning. Also, I strongly believe Abby smells like Dirty from Lush either because she uses it herself or it's just how it is, but yeah. Spearmint and sandalwood and lavender. There, I said it.

tags: @abbyily

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

You woke up thirsty and disoriented, but the warm hands around you quickly brought you up to speed. You came to Abby last night and asked for cuddles, right. Fuck, you felt so lonely in your cold bed yesterday it made you too emotional, and you decided it would be an excellent idea to go and cuddle the girl you had no chance with. God you hoped you didn't make Abby uncomfortable.

You were lying on your sides, facing each other, and Abby's hand was probably cramping now,but she didn't seem to mind. You sighed quietly and looked up to Abby, who was still sleeping peacefully. She was so fucking pretty you wanted to bash your head on the wall from what her adorable freckles and long lashes did to you. Her hair was a little out of place, and she looked so innocent, like a child. You wanted to smother her with silly little kisses you saved for kids when you could make extra money babysitting. 

You looked down at Abby's collar and froze, confused. She was wearing your t-shirt. It made you feel hot all over, and you remembered you had her t-shirt on because you were stupid yesterday and fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Abby liked men, and you weren't one, and you should have worked harder on getting over her because this was getting ridiculous. You both just mixed your t-shirts, no big deal and no, heart, we were not making a big deal out of it. 

You inhaled Abby's scent, feeling like a thief - this spearmint and sandalwood wasn't for you, but Abby smelled so good you couldn't resist and smell more. You buried your nose back in her neck and relaxed, slowly falling asleep again. 

Next time you woke up three hours later, but this time you were hugging Abby from behind, your nose deep in her hair. Yeah, something was definitely wrong with you, wasn't it? You carefully moved away, scared of waking Abby up and facing whatever the fuck this situation was, but she didn't notice and you escaped her bedroom as quietly as possible, closing the door behind you. 

You let out a relieved sigh and walked to the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face which was a little bit puffy from hangover and oversleeping. It was currently almost 2 pm, meaning you already lost the whole day, because even if you didn't feel physically bad, you just wanted to lie in your bed and do nothing.

Maybe eat some junk food, actually. That would be the best. 

You knew you should've changed and not continue wearing Abby's t-shirt that smelled like her, but you were weak, so you left it on. You'd put it in the laundry bin in the evening. 

You were staring mindlessly into your cup when Abby shuffled to the kitchen, her hair a mess, her forearms making you weak in your knees. Damn good forearms. 

"Morning." Abby yawned. "How are you feeling?"

"It's 2 pm." You laughed. "I'm as good as one can be on a hangover. You?"

"Don't want to do anything."

"Then don't. You want tea?"

"Can you make coffee?"

"Yeah."

Abby went to the bathroom and you started brewing coffee for her - she was a huge coffee drinker, but when you asked if she wanted to drink tea with you, she always said yes. Abby was sweet like that. 

You smiled to yourself and poured the coffee into her cup, adding three spoons of sugar and milk to it. The sweet tooth this girl had made your teeth ache from a possible cavity. 

Abby came back, still in your t-shirt, and sat on the chair, hugging her cup like it was a life-saver. She looked just as sleepy as you felt.

"Why did Cait text me that she is home?" You asked, puzzled. Notification was from 7 am. 

"I told them to text us when they get home." Abby murmured in her coffee. "You don't do that?"

"I do, Cait just doesn't listen. She has this "if something happens to me you'll find out from the news" attitude." You sighed and leaned back on your chair. "I guess she wanted to be polite this time."

"Caitlyn is very cool." Abby said carefully as if she could say the wrong thing about your best friend. 

"She is." You smiled. "Ellie is very different from when I met her, though." 

Oh shit. 

Abby looked up and you couldn't help but feel caught, as if you just accidentally admitted you cheated on Abby. 

"Wait a second." Abby grinned like she knew where this was going. "You hooked up, didn't you?"

"That's a bold assumption, but yes." You grinned in return. "It was a long time ago. I didn't think that your Ellie was my Ellie."

"'My Ellie'?" Abby teased and you felt your face heat up from embarrassment. "Do you have a crush on her?"

"Oh, I've been harbouring feelings for her for half a year." You said dramatically. "Stalking her schedule, screenshotting her Instagram, moving in with her best friend…" 

Abby laughed and you laughed too. 

"It sounded so fucking creepy." 

You nodded and finished your tea. 

"I want to order some food and watch a tv-show. What do you think?" 

"If I liked girls I would've definitely married you right now." Oh god not this kind of straight shit, no. Nononono. Did the universe hate you? "Really, if you dare to ditch me for your sweetheart I'll cause a scene."

"I'd make a perfect housewife." You smirked. “You can marry me just for that.”

"I always wanted a spring wedding." Abby sighed dreamingly and you laughed. 

"Just say the word, babygirl." You winked and Abby laughed, but she got shy from your words and there was pink blush on her cheekbones. Shit she was cute. Not even her "5.11 built like a tank MMA fighter" appearance could hide her soft side and you just lived for it. 

You enjoyed when she got all commanding and confident and even scary, because she was so fucking hot in these moments, but when she got soft and shy ohh. It was making you insane.

You both spent 10 minutes deciding what you wanted to order, and after you finally placed the order, you moved to the living room. Abby opened her arms for you, silently inviting you to cuddle, and you couldn't resist, so you lay down on her shoulder while her strong arm went around your waist, keeping you close. 

"You're breaking my little gay heart." You complained, and Abby laughed.

"I'm very sorry." She said dramatically, and her warm hand was going up and down on your arm, comforting you. "My sincere apologies to the lesbian community for being straight."

You poked her in the side and she laughed again. 

Abby looked at the crown of your head and she suddenly got the overwhelming desire to place a kiss there, but she stopped herself. She felt like she was toeing a line she didn't want to cross - she didn't want to be weird.  She didn't want to make you feel awkward and not cuddle with her after. 

You were still in her t-shirt and Abby had The Feeling again, and she tried to give it a name, but she couldn't remember when she ever felt like that - even when Ellie wore her clothes she didn't get that feeling, but it was quite.. familiar. When Ellie wore her clothes she liked knowing that yes, Ellie was her friend, she had this privilege to be friends with her. So it was probably the same with you. Maybe it was stronger because you were not a gremlin like Ellie and actually a nice person. 

Abby felt all warm and fuzzy when you laughed, vibrations going through her chest. It was a nice quiet sound and your breath was getting a little deeper and heavier.

"Falling asleep?" Abby murmured, suddenly filled with affection. 

"A little."

"I can wake you up when food comes."

"Nah. We will eat and then I'll nap."

Abby chuckled, not really believing you'd last long enough, and she was right: you fell asleep anyway. But she fell asleep as well, holding you close even unconscious, maybe even closer as her mind loosened the leash on her constant questioning if it was okay for friends to feel like this.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 19

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: Have a good day.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The queen rises, restless as her skirts sweep around her, streaked from the hem with the filth of the road. Her insistence on finery has proven fruitless. Her once prized gown will likely never be free of stains. She has many more, you only hope they survive the journey. 

She struts back and forth, scowling as she faces the wall and drops her shoulders. 

“Why is there no mirror?” She pouts, “this place is drab. How am I supposed to keep from going blind with dullness.” She flops back onto the bed, “ugh,” she rolls over, “maid, I need wine.” 

“Your highness,” you say sheepishly. 

“Do not,” she raises her hand in a harsh point, “I don’t care about the king’s orders. I have been on the road for weeks, I am sore, I am filthy, and I am tired!” She snaps her fingers, “if I want wine I will have it.” She puts her hand over her middle, “it is for the king’s child. He is thirsty.” 

You avert your eyes. You can’t deny her. Even if the king ordered that she be deprived, you cannot look her in the face and tell her no. If they king never knows, it mightn’t matter. You turn, your disobedience nipping at your ears. 

You emerge into the corridor. The orange-haired guard remains, along with the shadow standing across from him. Bryce looms, picking his nails with a small dagger.  

“Has the queen retired so early?” He asks. 

“She requires wine,” you return, “I won’t be long, sir. Might you point me towards the kitchen?” 

“I will accompany you,” he insists as he stand straight. 

“Do not trouble, sir, I am faster alone. I only need direction.” 

You see the disappointment tick in his cheek. You’re not so mad as you were, only cautious. The king will always come first, his will shall always circumvent your own. It is a reality you knew before but now it gleams in a much different light. 

“Down to the east, on the lower floors behind the statue of the knight in black armor,” he explains, “do take care not to lose yourself.” 

“I will, sir,” you nod and glance over at the other soldier. The man with carroty hair eyes you up and down. 

You flit off, hurrying upon your quest for a bottle. You’re not certain you’ll find bounty in your mission. This is not the king’s castle and you are not a thief. 

You descend and come around the bottom of the wide stone railings. The great hall is empty and only a few lanterns remain lit to guide you. You go east and find your way, coming upon the knight in black armour that at first appears as a real sentinel in the dark. You stop to look upon the suit, admiring the ripples in its forging. 

You go into the kitchen and find the haze of the stove lighting the empty space. You peer around at the dark alcoves as the air glows amber, pulsing with the heat of the embers. You tiptoe inside, narrowing your eyes to see through the dim. 

“Are ya lost?” A growl rises from the darkness. 

You spin and face the black silhouette of a large man stood on the other side of the thick wooden table at the center of the kitchens. You gulp and sway on your feet. He must be the cook or perhaps the cellarer. He likely thought you a rat scurrying around looking for crumbs. 

“No, sir, I... would there be a bottle of wine? For the queen?” You ask, your voice catching in your throat as he looms like some great husky bear. He reminds you of the white beast in the corridor as he comes around the table, the light catching the white of his thick locks. 

His body is as thick as a barrel and his shoulders broader. The flickering hue reveals the scar above his left brow and his pocked cheeks. You wonder at the tint of his hair as you try to tell if it’s the age the lines his face or if it is the same effect as the king. 

“Wine? For the queen?” He echoes sonorously, “hmmm.” 

“Yes, sir, if there would be any to spare?”  

“Mm, suppose a bottle might go missing,” he backs up and turns. He doesn’t beckon you onward but you follow anyway. Something about him bids you without a word. 

He takes you to the far end of the kitchens and grunts as he squats and reaches to his belt, jangling a ring of iron keys. He shoves one in the thick lock in the clasp of the hatch and unhooks it. He lifts the heavy door, thick cedar bolstered with steel and throws it back to hit the floor. 

“Ah, hold,” he signals you with a palm as he stands and retreats. 

He strides across the kitchens and without a word, shuffles in a cupboard. He mutters as he takes a tallow and lights its wick from the embers, setting it into a brass holder. He offers it to you and you take it without a word, curious at the grumbly cook. 

He descends the steep stairs first and you follow, balancing the candle carefully. He takes you by the elbow to help you to the beaten floor and you raise the candle to light the expanse of the cellar. It extends well past the limits of the flame’s eye. 

He goes to a shelf and slides a bottle free of its cubby. He tuts and puts it back. He pulls out several bottles before he makes a decision. He comes closer to examine the glass by the flame. 

“Summer wine,” he says and flicks his pale eyes up to you. They remind you of the king’s though they are paler in the candlelight. “And you, serve the summer queen?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“You are a summerer?” He asks. 

“Sir,” you bow your head, “you can tell?” 

“Aye, no winter’s blood wears a cloak with walls to hold them over,” he chuckles and looks around. 

You glance down at the cloak. You hadn’t thought to remove it as the cold radiates from the stone. Even without the wind, a shiver creeps through your flesh. 

He frightens you as he reaches for you, only to touch the fur collar of the cloak, rubbing a tuft between his fingertips, “it is well made.” He lets his hand trail along the front and turns out the interior of the trim. You look down your nose as he reveals a patch you didn’t notice before; a wolf’s head. 

“Yes, sir, it is warm,” you agree and he withdraws his hand. 

“Suppose a summer’s maid needs it more than a winter’s king,” he says. 

You’re quiet. You have nothing to say to that. How many others took note of you in the king’s cloak? Do they whisper about it? 

“Your queen may take the wine,” he holds out the bottle, “and the king, might have a cask of ale should he require. Only one,” he lets go of the bottle as you accept it and holds up a finger, “he does not have leave to drink this cellar dry. Crown or no crown.” 

“Yes, sir. Many thanks.” 

He snorts and shakes his head, peering down at you, “a dove like you is out of place in this nest of vultures,” he muses and gently takes the candle from your hand, “better fly back to your queen, bird.” 

“Sir,” you turn towards the stairs as the candle illuminates your shadow against the shelves. You turn to climb and peer back at the man. He watches you, his eyes flickering with the flame. 

“Gentle creatures don’t fare well in the cold,” he clucks, “best keep that cloak close.” 

You ascend and cradle the bottle at the top, keeping it close as the liquid sloshes heavily inside. You pad over the kitchen floor and into the corridor. The great hall is even colder as the shadows ripple over you. As you come up the stairs, a shiver quakes through you. 

Something about that man, about his words, clings to you. His way of speaking is ominous, like those card readers who would visit Lady Rezlyn. Or perhaps it is only that you are waiting for the inevitable. 

As you near the queen’s chambers, you hear distant footsteps from the other direction. You come in sight of the grey soldier, spinning his knife as he whistles, the redhead guard sending him an irritated glower. You slow, preparing for the guard to repel you or at least seize the bottle from your arms. 

He does not. Even as he turns his scowl on you, he only reaches for the door to let you in. Before he can push inward, a throat clears. You all pause and turn to face the new figure. The king looks between you all; from the guard, to you, to Bryce. Your nerves flutter wildly. You haven’t been this close since the night on the pass. 

“I hope that wine is meant for you, Sir Bryce,” King Geralt booms, “as my queen is not permitted to indulge. She has a vile reaction to the stuff.” 

“Your highness,” the guard swallows audibly, “I... the queen--” 

“The queen is my wife and a wife must bend to the will of her husband,” the king insists hotly. The guard’s expression draws and he mutters an apology. 

“I was unaware of the ban,” Bryce intones, “but I’ll gladly claim the bottle for my own.” 

“Gilles,” King Geralt ignores the quip and points to the redhead guard, “you will inform the queen that she needs retire for the night. In her condition, it is necessary that she rests. If she requires sustenance, she may have bread and cheese and a bit of goat’s milk.” 

“Your highness,” the guard, Gilles, nods diligently. 

“And you will fetch it yourself,” the king insists, “I trust you might find your way around a tray.” 

Gilles stares at the king then slowly pushes into the queen’s chamber. The king nears and takes the bottle from your hand. You let him and back up as Bryce steps closer. 

“Your highness,” the soldier begins, “if I’d been aware--” 

“Hardly matters now,” the king shrugs and steps close to his man. He leans in and whispers something you cannot hear, “as you were,” he slaps his shoulder then continues on. You watch after him, perplexed but relieved at his indifference. Perhaps he has rethought his intent. 

Bryce is quiet until the king’s footfalls fade off. He lowers his chin, rubbing his thick beard. He touches your cloak, a small tug on it, “this way, maid. Let us find you a place to lay your head.” 

The promise of a bed is nice and reminds you of your weariness. Your legs ache as you follow Bryce along the corridor. Your shoulders rack and the remnants of the road begin to lace through your muscles. It is only as you think of laying down that you feel the effect of those last months. 

You yawn and stifle it in your hand. Bryce glances over and lets out a willowy breath. He is certain of his path despite the twists and turns. He directs you to a door at the base of one of the castle’s towers, opening it to a spiraling staircase. 

“Would be at the top.” 

You look up at the winding ascent. The walls are mounted with lanterns over every fifth step. You frown and pull back, turning to the soldier. Your stomach churns. 

“Up there? May I not rest in the servant’s quarters?” 

“You must be closer to the queen,” his lip trembles. He raises his chin and looks away. When his eyes meet yours again, he puts his hands on your shoulders, “rest your head, mouse, you’ve come very far. You’ve earned it.” 

You look at him. You know he isn’t saying all he could. He can’t. You put your hands on his arms and squeeze.  

“I’ll try,” you affirm, “thank you, sir. I am very tired.” 

“Yes, mouse, sleep,” he pulls away. 

“Good night, sir.” 

He hesitates, “good night.” 

He turns stiffly and marches off. You step into the staircase as his shadow disappears and you pull the door shut. You look up, climbing step by step, legs shaking as you get higher and higher. You reach the top step and another door. 

You push the handle down and the lever rises on the other side. You enter the chamber to find it empty. You stand at the threshold and turn, searching for any shadow, any shimmer in the low light of the fireplace. It’s only you. 

You breathe and turn to look down the staircase. You listen. Nothing but the winds battering the walls without. You close the door and slowly wade into the warmth of the room. The windows are hung in heavy curtains and there is a tray waiting on the table. An ewer, cups, a plate heaping with delights. You aren’t hungry for any of it, you’re too uneasy. 

You unbuckle the cloak and drag it from your shoulders. You turn it over your arm and feel the patch sewn into the lining, examining the wolf’s yellow eyes. He’d marked you and you never even knew it. You fold the heavy length over a chair and back away. 

You untie your cap and unveil the short shanks of hair jutting out from your scalp. You haven’t had a chance to shear your unruly locks before they could get too long. You fold the cap and put it on the bed. You remove your apron then your dress and leave them with your cap. 

You take a pillow and a blanket from the mattress and bring them down to the bench at the end of the bed. You fit yourself onto the hardwood and watch the fire’s light pulse on the stone wall. Your eyes glimmer with tears, turning your vision to speckled hues. 

It’s all so nice, too nice for you, and knowing why you’ve come upon it, turns it sour. It is not kindness, there is expectation attached to such generosity. You should’ve known. You did. You were just too stupid to see it, just as the queen always said. 

You twit. 

You close your eyes and pull the blanket to your chin. You embrace the warmth, your one comfort left. There’s a long road that awaits you still. Not only through the Hinterlands but another, more treacherous path. One you never meant to stumble upon. 

Your body weakens, succumbing to your fatigue, overtaking your wrought mind. Your eyes roll back behind their lids and your breath peters out. Sleep enshrines you as blackness eclipses the orange haze of the chamber. 

[andiftheycare]

Stsg au where overworked salary man Suguru doesn’t need more problems in his life, but alas there’s someone — or maybe multiple someones, who knows — who keeps stealing his umbrella every time he goes to buy his lunch/after work drinks at the konbini next to his office.

Which at first is, well, annoying.

It’s typhoon season and he might miss the last train because his umbrella is gone, and he has to ask the cashier if they have more umbrellas in stock because of course they’re all sold out when he looks for one in the aisle. It’s end of day — okay, it’s past 11pm — and it’s pouring outside.

So they manage to find a new umbrella for him, Suguru pays the cashier those 500 yen (internally cursing the thief) and goes on with his life.

Except that it happens again. And again. And again.

Suguru starts to keep a stash of coins in his drawer in the office because the occurrence it’s now a routine, and because there aren’t other konbini in the area that are as conveniently located nor that serve his favourite bento box.

Changing location isn’t an option.

Except that of course Suguru is not always lucky. Sometimes umbrellas actually sold out. Day after day, the pained part-time worker gets more and more confused on why this is happening only to Suguru. No other customer is affected.

“You could keep your own umbrella with you instead of leaving it in the rack?”

“It’d mess up the shop floor.” Suguru says, tired, and the part timer nods slightly, scratching his pink haired head. “Besides, I don’t see why I shouldn’t put it there. I’m not the one at fault here.”

“I’d offer to let you look at the security tapes but the umbrella rack is in a blind spot.” He sounds apologetic. “My manager would kill me if I were to move it.”

Suguru had met his manager, a guy called Sukuna that seemed more fit to run a local Yakuza gang than a couple of connivence stores, so yeah, he wouldn’t want to put the part timer in any tricky situation. It’s just an umbrella.

It doesn’t matter that he ends up walking drenched into his meetings, or covering under the konbini’s canopy until the rain calms down in the evenings, or living with a perennial running nose.

He wonders if there is some karma involved. Did he do something to be targeted by all the umbrella thieves in the prefecture? It’s a punishment for a past life where he mass murdered a village?

Whatever. He doesn’t believe in those things anyway.

Until. He’s smoking in front of the store, air wet and fresh, and he shouldn’t lit anything there, really, it’s way out of the store smoking area, but Suguru’s so tired he feels it in his bones, in the lines of his muscles. It’s all encompassing, at times, that type of tiredness, to the point it’s a struggle wake up in the morning, to process thoughts and emotion outside of business calculations.

Mostly, thought, it transforms him into a crueler version of himself. One that, deep down, only craves a long night of sleep.

“Geez, you look awful.”

Suguru blinks slowly. He stops playing with his lighter - which flame is struggling to re-lit the cigarette, Suguru’s hand covering it in an attempt to keep it alive - and looks towards the voice.

There’s another man.

He’s wearing a suit in a way that would send any HR rappresentative into a coma. His style is unfazed by company regulations, crinkled and complemented by a lopsided tie. His hair are white which, itself, it’s at least breaking four of his company contractual clauses on bleaching your hair.

Under the white background of the konbini’s neon lights, his eyes are a shadowed blue.

Those, Suguru thinks, can’t be real.

“And, well, clearly you can’t talk? But it’s not a first, I’d let you—“

“Who the fuck are you?”

The man purses his lips. They’re pretty, like the rest of him, but Suguru hasn’t felt like kissing anyone in a long time, so the thought is passing and feeble.

“Mate, I was trying to cheer you up. You look like you need it.”

Why is he speaking so informally to him? Is this man insane? Suguru patience wears thin when he works over hour. “You have a weird sense of humor.”

“I’m Satoru,” he said, and Suguru frowns at him.

“I’m not calling you by your first name.”

The man pouts at him. He’s tall — taller than him, taller than Nanami, — and build in a way that weirdly makes Suguru wonder if he could take him in a fight. This is how he knows he’s losing it.

“So formal.”

“So informal” he spits back, letting go of any hope of getting nicotine in his body.

The man - Satoru, although thinking of a stranger in those terms is too intimate for his liking - tilts his head and cracks a smile “it’s part of my charm.”

Fucking no.

“If you’re hoping to—“

The automatic doors of the shop slide open, the familiar welcome song of the konbini chain announcing an extremely self satisfied part timer. He waves an umbrella at Suguru “Geto-San, I found one!”

The white haired man raises his eyebrows, and repeats “Geto-San?”

Suguru doesn’t dignify that with more than a scornful stare.

“It’s an old one, Kugisaki found it in the back of our changing room. It’s been there forever so I think can keep it.”

“Eh? Nobara has never been so precious about me getting wet.”

The boy directs his attention to the man, and it’s suddenly clear they know each other. “I don’t think she likes Gojo-sensei as much.”

There’s an audible gasp, a quick change in demeanour that makes him look comical and reminds Suguru of those animes Nanako and Mimiko watch on the weekend while having breakfast.

Suguru doesn’t listen to whatever conversation passes between Gojo and Itadori, staring vaguely at his new umbrella, dread sinking into him as he thinks of his long train home, of how maybe he’d manage to sleep four hours if he’s lucky. Of how he’s waisting his precious time there.

“Well,” Satoru says, eyes glistening with mirth as he lays them on Suguru. “I guess we’re not sharing an umbrella to the station then.”

It lands as a joke but Suguru isn’t sure this man is joking.

“Yuk,” Itadori says. “That’s very romantic of you, sensei”

“Whatever,” Suguru says, and opens the umbrella. He’s not gifting this man more of his presence.

“Next time,” Gojo says, but this time he’s weary of Itadori, and leans in Suguru’s personal space as he steps on the rain. Water falls on Gojo’s shoulders, staining his shirt, and his voice’s low, his tone promising nothing good, “Maybe I can help you loosen up a little?”

Gojo’s grinning and Suguru hasn’t been hit on so hard in a long time. He’s flirted at often, and he likes to flirt back, see the power his words have on people, how easy it is to have things his way if he plays along. He knows the rules of that game, where not to cross the line.

Yet. This man just has.

He regards him with a brief stare. There’s a vague picture forming in his brain of what this Gojo would look like on his knees, pretty lips around his cock, and Suguru recoils.

It’s wrong. It’s so vivid you’d think he’d actually seen Gojo sucking a dick before. And he hasn’t and doesn’t want to. Suguru’s better than that, more centred, so his stomach doesn’t churn at the idea.

Maybe it has been way too long. Maybe he needs a fuck, although he rarely — if not never — feels in the mood.

He waves at Itadori. Then, whispering, he parts from Gojo with a “Fuck off.”

Suguru doesn’t think about him as he drags himself home, checks on the girls, and lies down in his suit, sleep taking him in seconds, alarm ripping him away from the quiet peace of his night in what seem like few minutes.

He wakes while it’s still dark outside, still raining.

At lunch, Suguru does what every sane person in his predicament would do. Umbrella in hand, he marches to the konbini’s printer, tapping away on the stickers design options.

He prints a curse.

Surely, he could’ve been more creative with it. And if he was to listen to his inner voice, he would’ve been more violent. Instead, he prints out:

Stealing will turn you into a frog

Childish. Appropriate for a childish thief.

He sticks it on his umbrella’s handle, and leaves it in the rack. Wonders if he’d end up with a frog on his hands.

End of… part 1???? Sorry I just wanted to write a stupid au hc and this happened???

So this is now also on Twitter here because I thought it fitted as a threadfic?? We’ll see.

PART: 2, 2.2, 3