#and every time he smiles at you in his notoriously well known silly way you see it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rocorambles · 4 years ago

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Hit It Till It Breaks

Pairing: Oikawa x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, Mafia AU, NSFW, Drug Dealing, Dub-Con/Non-Con Sex, Dub-Con/Non-Con Drug Consumption, Drug Addiction, Manipulation, Humiliation, Degradation, Prostitution, Slight Pet Play

Prompt: Hard At Work

Summary: Growing up, you’d always loved fairy tales and happy endings. You’d always believed that despite how bad things might seem or get, there would be a light at the end of the tunnel. But you’re quickly realizing that this isn’t a fairy tale, that there is no happy ending, and that sometimes, you only go downhill, farther and farther from the light.

Author’s Note: This is my contribution for my HQ Discord Server’s NSFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist to see how everyone decided to run with this spicy prompt.

(Thank you as always @sawamooora for helping me keep this a coherent degenerate mess~)

It’s hard to believe that bright eyed girl holding her college diploma in the photo on your nightstand was you not that long ago. And your heart clenches when you remember how hopeful you had been. So excited to venture out and experience life. Ready to enter the job market. Ready to be an adult.

Doors opened and closed. But you hadn’t let it deter you at first. It just wasn’t meant to be. You can’t expect to get the first job you interview for!

But then more and more doors opened, only to be shut in your face.Your rose-tinted glasses began to crack as your funds quickly dwindled, as you lowered your standards, desperately mass applying to any small time company vaguely related to your major, only to be turned away at every step.

And now, here you are, barely able to make rent, barely able to even feed yourself with the little you have from odd part-time jobs you’ve managed to stitch together into some sort of financial life line.

Well, you HAD been barely able to make rent, but your hands tremble when you stare at the letter notifying you that your rent will begin to increase starting next month, mind speeding into a panicked haze as you unsuccessfully try to think of what to do, how you can possibly afford to live even in this dump anymore. And before you even realize what you’re doing, you’re scrambling, stumbling to your bathroom, throwing open your medicine cabinet as you rummage for the little pills that you know will help slow down your racing thoughts and provide much needed clarity.

You swear everything seems clearer as soon as the smooth texture hits your tongue and you can finally breathe, slumping down on the cold tiles of your floor, pill bottle still clutched in your hand as you allow yourself to relax, praying for any ideas to flow through you. And it hits you like a ton of bricks when your grip on the plastic container accidentally loosens and the bottle clangs against the floor.

A humorless chuckle slips past your lips as you stare at the rolling cylinder.

Drug dealing. Fucking drug dealing.

You can’t believe you’re even thinking of going down this route, but your mind flashes back to old roommates, old friends, old classmates who had nonchalantly made a pretty bundle on the side, carelessly tossing around and selling all types of prescription drugs on campus. And you vividly remember how simple they had made it seem, how they had all gotten away with it. Scrumptious meals, pricey alcohol, far beyond a college palette, and beautiful clothing were the only “consequences” for their crimes.

If they could do it, you could too. Or so you’d like to think.

But as naive and ignorant as you are about this line of work, even you know there’s a difference between selling to silly college students on campus, and selling it at a popular nightclub owned by an infamous crime syndicate.

Even as far removed as you are from the more seedy underbelly of the new city you live in, you know of the Seijoh Syndicate. Everyone in town does. It’s hard not to when they literally run and own the entire place.

Oikawa Tooru and the rest of the Seijoh Four run their domain with an iron fist. They’re practically nonexistent, merely a scary story to keep people in line, for those who abide by the laws and keep their noses out of trouble, but an all too real nightmare for those who choose to defy them. And you shudder, remembering the horror stories you had heard of exactly what happens to those who decide to try and start their own nefarious business and practices on Seijoh streets without Oikawa’s permission.

But surely they wouldn’t pay you any mind? Right? Surely a mere girl in her early twenties selling the leftover prescription medicine she has in her cabinets for one night won’t do any harm?

Maybe it’s stupid to go to such a prevalent and well known club, especially one that’s notoriously favored by the Seijoh Four. But you convince yourself that it’s the most crowded venue in the area with a target demographic who’s guaranteed to buy you out, even at the obscene prices you plan on charging. How would anyone even notice you? Where else could you go? What options do you even have?

So despite the nervous pit swelling in your stomach, you soldier on, plastering a cheery smile at the bouncer who easily waves you in without a second glance, slipping into the sweaty mass of bodies, going deeper and deeper until you’re surrounded - skin, bones, and muscles pressing against you on all sides, safe from any prying eyes.

Or so you believe.

You know who the Seijoh Four are. You even know their names. But never have you met them, never have you ever seen a picture of what they each look like. Not that it would help you if you did when you’re so laser focused on finding potential customers, not even bothering to look around to see if anyone’s watching you. So you carry on, unaware of the four sets of eyes looking at you in amusement from their roost high above the writhing crowds.

There’s nothing subtle about the way you sloppily nudge people, practically shoving your pills in stranger’s faces, almost wildly waving your merchandise around you in a desperate attempt to pull in buyers. Sweaty nervous hands fumble as you exchange little plastic baggies for wads of cash and Matsukawa raises a brow in disbelief while Hanamaki cackles when you drop your merch and payment, getting on all fours on the trashed dance floor to recollect your goods.

It might be the most amusing show they’ve had in a while, but Iwaizumi feels a pang of pity at the wild hopeless look in your eyes and he swiftly stands, brusquely telling the other three that he’s going to go down and tell you off with just a warning, only to be stopped when Oikawa smoothly stands to his feet, effectively blocking Iwaizumi’s path.

“Now, now Iwa-chan. Don’t be so hasty. Let me go talk to the cutie. I’ve been so bored recently and she looks like she’ll be fun! Plus you’ll make her cry with that scary face of yours.”

Suddenly the sight of you bumbling around isn’t quite as entertaining as the remaining three men watch the brunette prowl towards you, heavy realization of what’s to come sombering the mood.

You’re frantic, flitting about the throngs of flailing limbs and swaying bodies, frustration from not being able to get through your supplies fast enough weighing at your conscious. Sure, you’ve managed to accrue some cash, but it’s not enough, not nearly enough to even feed yourself for the coming week let alone make a dent in the daunting rent that looms over you. And you can feel hot tears prick at the corner of your eyes when you see that it’s almost closing time and you’re still stuck with more than half your inventory, no closer to figuring out how to survive. So when a hand firmly rests on your shoulder, you whip around, ready to take your anger out on the poor soul who’s managed to catch you at the worst time. But you freeze, vicious words stuck in your mouth when you see the handsome man beaming down at you, a thick wad of rolled up bills haphazardly dangling from his fingers.

“I heard you might have some stuff I’d be interested in.”

You wonder if this is all a dream, if the man in front of you is (ironically a devilishly) handsome angel swooping into save you when he casually asks you how much stuff you still have, how much you’d be willing to sell everything for, not even blinking an eye at your outrageous price tag. You’re so stunned by how quick he is to call it a done deal, not resisting even a bit as he wraps his hand around your wrist, pulling you after him, saying some vague comments about wanting to go somewhere a little more private since it’s a bigger trade. All you can think about is how you’ll finally be able to eat something other than instant noodles and not have to worry about rent as you throw yourself back into interviewing, too lost in thoughts to be wary of how you’re being dragged farther and farther away from the rowdy crowd.

But the sound of a door slamming shut behind you jolts you back to reality and Oikawa fights back a laugh at how adorable you are, eyes blown wide like a deer in headlights as your head swivels side to side, dismay and panic making you tremble when you survey the private room you’re in, throat nervously gulping when you notice the three other occupants.

You’re so predictable and Oikawa just rolls his eyes fondly at how you swiftly turn around, trying to lunge towards the door in an attempt to escape, taking his time to leisurely make his way towards you, brown orbs taking in every inch of you as Matsukawa and Hanamaki hold your writhing body in place.

It’s so satisfying watching you crumble to pieces before his very eyes at just the mention of his name, despair and fear swirling beautifully on your face when he continues to introduce the rest of the Seijoh Four. It never gets old, that deliciously addicting feeling of power he feels when people tremble from just a few syllables and he relishes in your pleading apologies and your tears, patiently waiting for you to finish your little sob story, barely listening to the details as he focuses in on how gorgeous you are, broken and vulnerable.

And really, there’s no need for him to pay close attention to your blabbering anyway. It always comes down to one thing…

“So you need money, cutie? How about working for me?”

“Oye! Oikawa-”

“I’m just asking her some questions, Iwa-chan.”

There’s tense silence and your eyes nervously flicker back and forth between the two imposing figures staring each other down, green and brown eyes clashing in a silent argument. But as if they’ve somehow come to a conclusion, Iwaizumi tsks and looks away while Oikawa turns his attention back to you, a sickeningly cheerful grin on his face.

Blood curling fear lances through you and you’re almost grateful for the two pairs of strong arms holding you tight, their grip keeping you from falling to your knees as your legs threaten to give out under the pressure you feel as Oikawa thoughtfully looks at you.

You know the smart answer would be to adamantly say no and promptly figure out a way to leave this moment far behind you, even if it means forfeiting any money you had made tonight. But...a job is a job, right? And surely a job in the Seijoh Syndicate would be more lucrative than anything you’re doing now, right?

Oikawa hides a smile at the way he can see the cogs in your head turn, apprehension turning to curiosity as you stutter out questions about pay and what the job would entail. Desperation is a good look on anyone, but it suits you particularly well and just like that, hook, line, and sinker, he has a new cute live-in maid to replace the recently vacated role.

Working as Oikawa’s maid is more...normal than you would have expected. Not that you’re complaining and other than the embarrassing maid outfit he makes you wear, complete with frilly bow and garters, the chores are mundane. Bring breakfast to him and wake him. Clean his room and do his laundry when he’s away at meetings or jobs. Make sure guests have refreshments when they come over to his large estate, a mansion you now also call home.

If you’re honest, it’s much more relaxing than the multiple part-time jobs you had been juggling previously, and with free board, free food, and the substantial paycheck that regularly makes its way to your bank account, you can see your future brightening up again. When your duties are done for the day, you resume practicing for interviews and keeping up with the industry, feeling emboldened and empowered to finally resume working towards the career path you had always dreamed of.

But the more time you spend with Oikawa, the closer and more entangled in your life the brunette becomes. Alarm bells ring wildly in your head as you’re forced to join him for meals, forced to dress in elaborate gowns and jewelry while you’re waltzed around on his arm, forced to travel around the world with him, and attend to him like a glorified assistant. He’s too charming, too familiar, too bold, and you can’t help but feel like you’re racing towards some inevitable crash as he easily brushes aside any boundaries between the two of you.

You know so many women would kill to be in your shoes and you can understand why, not completely immune to his playful smile and the lilt of his voice yourself. But you know better, know exactly how dangerous it would be to get involved with a man like Oikawa Tooru.

It’s clear from the crimson stains on the clothes he leaves for you to either dispose of, or have cleaned. It’s clear from the wails and sobs of woman after woman he uses and tosses aside like garbage on an almost daily basis. It’s clear from the guns, knives, and weapons, most of which you don’t even know the name of, filling up all the walls, drawers, and cabinets.

So you do your best to keep your distance, building titanium walls around your heart. Always polite, too terrified of what would happen if you pissed him off, but cold enough to deter him from more amorously or intimately testing his boundaries.

And it seems to work as he turns his eyes towards other women, leaving you alone after throwing a few flirty comments and winks your way and ultimately falling in bed with some other poor damsel. But you nervously gulp when it’s just the two of you one night and just as you’re ready to make yourself scarce after turning down his bed and laying out his pajamas, his voice beckons you over and you anxiously bite your lower lip at the sight of pills of all shapes and sizes splayed out across his desk.

Other than your prescription medicine, you don’t have a lot of experience with drugs other than the few blunts here and there during your college years and you had always strictly kept to your recommended doses, never even entertaining the idea of taking more. So the sight in front of you is overwhelming and you hesitantly stare anywhere but at the table surface, anxiously waiting for Oikawa to explain why he called you over. But what you’re not expecting is the warm hand gently grasping your wrist and holding your arm out, small objects being carefully placed in your outstretched palm, and soft coaxing from Oikawa to “give them a try”.

Every part of you is screaming to throw the pills and make a run for it, begging you to come up with some excuse or just outright reject his offer. But it’s as if your body is frozen and he firmly pushes your hand to your mouth, grip tightening enough to make you wince when you hesitate to listen. The slight pain is enough to remind you that you’re not exactly in any position to negotiate and you force yourself to down the pills and gulp down the glass of water he holds to your lips.

The last thing you remember is the unsettling feeling of beginning a descent to an unknown place from which there is no return as Oikawa pulls you to his bed. And then euphoria floods through you as your body slots against his larger frame.

It feels good. Too good. Unnaturally good. But it’s intoxicating and you can’t help but let yourself drown in the hazy waves crashing down upon you, feeling lighter, freer, happier than you have for years. You vaguely register roaming hands, a hot wet mouth, a body on top of yours, something hard pressing against the apex of your thighs, filling you, consuming you in heady pleasure only amplified by the drugs coating your insides.

Bliss. Pleasure. Pure unadulterated joy. And then nothing.

When you come to, the weight of what had happened last night comes crashing down on you, making your foggy mind throb even more and you can feel bile rising inside of you as a toned arm around your waist tightens its hold on you. Oikawa grunts in annoyance when you claw your way out from his hold, scampering on shaky legs to his bathroom, heaving and expelling the contents of your stomach, trying futilely to cleanse yourself of your employer’s touch.

You flinch when you hear footsteps approach, shrinking into the corner of the tiled room, body crouched and curled into a tight ball as you try to save any shred of dignity you still have by hiding your naked body as much as you can from his prying eyes. Salty drops threaten to trail down your face when he hovers over you, sweetly cooing down at you “not to be like this”, “you liked it so much last night”, “come back to bed with me” only to stream down your face when his countenance swiftly changes, handsome face glowering down at you before brusquely turning away and snapping at you to “get on with your work then if you’re going to be an annoying bitch”.

It’s easy to convince yourself that you’re just being smart, just trying to survive as you obediently wash up and don your humiliating uniform, that it isn’t just you being a coward as you submissively go about your usual work day, still sitting with thighs pressed against Oikawa’s legs at meals, making no move to brush off the heavy arm he slings around your shoulders, only slightly flinching when his fingertips teasingly play with the hem of your skirt as he converses with the rest of the Seijoh Four.

But you can’t deny that all you are is a weak fool, desperate to live when you shakily accept the pills he pushes towards you again that night, silently crying yet not doing anything to prevent the inevitable as you swallow any self-respect or pride you had along with the smooth pellets under his watchful gaze, too scared of the glimmer of gunmetal you see on the inside of his jacket to even think of resisting.

And history repeats itself. Over and over again.

Oikawa smiles at how different you are from that skittish creature who fled from his every touch, smirking at how naive and innocent you still are as you try to hide how eager you are for your daily dose, unaware of how he’s slowly been increasing it every night, ignorant of how you unconsciously lean into his touches, pretty lips wrapping around his fingers as he hand feeds you.

Do you know what an animal you are in bed these days? Do you realize how little there is left to differentiate you from one of his filthy whores when you’re so doped up on whatever he gives you, moaning like a pornstar and leaving vicious red claw marks on his skin as you bounce on his cock?

And he knows it’s time to move onto the next phase of your conditioning when there’s not even a speck of shame in your clear eyes when the sunlight begins to filter through the window, knowingly smiling in satisfaction when instead of slinking off to wallow in your regret you shimmy down between his legs and begin to nuzzle and mouth his morning wood, face full of nothing but wanton desire as you take his cock in your mouth.

He doesn’t give you anything that night. Or the next night. Or the one after that. He doesn’t so much as even look at you outside of your usual eye contact, not a single flirtatious word slipping past his lips.

You should be grateful. This is what you wanted, right? To keep things strictly professional between the two of you. To not be coerced into the artificial pleasure you’ve been swallowing on a daily basis for the last month now. To not feel like just another warm body for Oikawa to taint.

Your interview notes and open tab of job listings are right there, begging for your attention, practically screaming at you to pursue the life you’ve always dreamed of.

Yet here you are, not even a week later, on your knees in between Oikawa’s legs as he leisurely reclines in his chair, peppering his inner thighs with kisses and rubbing your face against the growing bulge in his trousers, begging and pleading for another dose, feeling utterly empty and cold inside, unable to sleep, unable to focus, unable to function without the nights of hazy ecstasy.

Your heart drops at the long disappointed sigh the brunette releases.

“Drugs are expensive, cutie. I was just being nice and letting you try some new batches we’ve been producing, but now that they’re on the market, I can’t just keep on giving them to you for free.”

He rolls his eyes when you adamantly tell him you’ll pay whatever the price is, a condescending smirk splitting his face from how quick you are to shut up, soul crushed when he reveals the extravagant cost, a price he knows you can’t afford with the salary he’s providing you with.

But he artfully softens his smile as he begins to unbuckle his pants, sliding the fabric down and letting his throbbing cock spring into view, chuckling when it lightly slaps your face as it’s released from its confines, wondering if you’re drooling from the sight of his erection or the pills he’s playfully placing along the length of it.

“I know you don’t have that money, cutie. But I’d be willing to accept other forms of payments.”

The words are barely out of his mouth before you’re rushing to take him in his mouth and he loudly laughs at how obscene you look, slobbering all over his length, fervently bobbing your head up and down, hastily trying to deep throat him to reach the pill strategically placed right at the base of his shaft, lips puckering as you inhale the drugs, swallowing around him in a way that has him groaning as you stuff your face full of chemicals and pre-cum. And it doesn’t take much longer for him to wash your mouth and throat with warm rivulets of sticky white fluids as he watches the goods take effect, his balls tightening and cock straining with arousal as you reach between your legs, fingers playing with your tight dripping hole while your lewd moans vibrate against him.

It’s pathetically endearing how you can’t keep off of him after that, insisting on sitting on his lap during meals, your cute ass grinding against his clothed cock, always dropping to your knees in between chores, warming his cock in your greedy mouth, always asking him how many pills you’ve earned so far. You really are just his little slutty drug addict now, aren’t you?

But he needs you to be more than that, needs you to learn that you belong to anyone who’s willing to give you the high you crave, needs you to realize that you’re just a free use drug addicted whore for anyone and everyone to use.

So despite how tempting it is to just plunge balls deep inside your tight little pussy, he shoves you off of him one night as you try to grind against his body, feigning exhaustion and boredom of your body, watching in amusement at the panicked crazed look that flashes across your face at his words. Well aren’t you a beautiful sight, throwing yourself at his feet and groveling, saying you’ll do anything for another dose.

Anything, huh?

In your defense, even through the daze of your withdrawal, there’s still a wary expression on your face when Matsukawa and Hanamaki enter the room. Maybe you aren’t as broken as Oikawa had thought. But when you see the little baggies filled with the tablets you’ve become far too familiar with twirling between the duo’s fingers, you practically lunge at them and Oikawa finally allows himself the pleasure of reaching into his pants and stroking himself to the debauched sight playing out in front of him.

Maybe he needs to fuck you in front of a mirror more often if this is what you look like from an outside perspective. It’s like you were made to be used, to be just a warm toy for men to use and Oikawa can’t help but think you look best like this, cocks penetrating both your front and back holes, your body squeezed between two bodies. And he fondly smiles at how you have Hanamaki’s face between the palms of your hands, your lips locked in a sloppy kiss as your tongue ravages the strawberry blonde’s mouth, searching for the pills the man had playfully placed on the tip of his tongue in front of your very eyes before winking at you and telling you to come and get them yourself if you wanted them so badly.

They keep your daily training a surprise, mixing up who gets to wreck your body each day, how many cocks and rounds of cum you’ll need to pay with, what pills and dosage you get. Always keeping you lost and confused, making sure your mind is just a muddled mess that can only think of reaching your next high by any means necessary.

Hell, even Iwaizumi takes part when he realizes that you’re beyond the point of no return, that Oikawa wasn’t joking when he said that there is no other choice for you anymore. This is your life now. This is who you are now. This is your “happily ever after”. He knows all that, can see all that in the way your dazed eyes only come to life at the sight of your addiction, your otherwise listless body perking up at the sound of the tiny objects rattling in their container. And yet a small sliver of guilt has him growling at you to get on all fours, ensuring your face isn’t visible, turning you into just another body for him to mindlessly use as he pleases.

It’s an uncomfortable position, borderline painful as your knees rock back and forth on the hard floor with every brutal thrust of Iwaizumi’s hips. But you don’t care, the aching pain in your legs just dull background noise as you fixate on the tablets scattered on the floor in front of your face, dropping your entire upper body low to the ground, only your hips raised high as your mouth snaps forward. You’re so close and you mewl as your lips make contact with the first pill, uncaring of the pitiful sight you make licking and lapping the floor, whimpering when a hand firmly grabs you by the hair and roughly pulls your face away from your feast.

“Maybe we should get you a dog bowl, cutie. It’s humiliating even for you to be eating from the dirty floor like that. Hold her hair for me, Iwa-chan.”

You crane your neck back and forth, jaw jutting forward as you frantically fight against the tight grip holding you back, mouth drooling and tongue extending like a ravenous animal. But it’s no use and you whine, too focused on your unfinished “meal” to notice how Oikawa is still standing in front of you, cock pulled out from his pants, his hands rapidly fisting the shaft. And only when thick white spurts glaze the remaining pills do you whip your attention towards him, staring with hopeful wide eyes when he crouches in front of you and grabs your face.

“When Iwa-chan lets go of your hair, you’ll get to have the rest of your treats, but you also have to eat the special seasoning I’ve generously given you, okay? If I see even a speck of it left, you’re not getting anything tomorrow, understand?”

Oikawa laughs at how vigorously you nod your head and with a nod in Iwaizumi’s direction, you’re released and the two men watch on as you lick the floor until it’s sparkling clean, slumping your face in the mess of your own drying saliva as you reach euphoria once more. You wail as Iwaizumi shoves you off a cliff and into floating clouds of bliss with one last thrust, the drugs in your system weaving a comforting cocoon around you that you melt into, unable to escape its soothing pull, giggling in content as his seed fills you to the brim.

There’s silence as Iwaizumi pulls out of you, tucking himself back into his pants before sitting besides Oikawa, joining him as he continues observing your used and drugged up body sprawled across the floor, a dopey smile on your face as cum begins to leak out of your spent pussy.

Minutes pass and Iwaizumi sighs, knowing what Oikawa is waiting for him to ask despite how insistent he has been over the years about not wanting to be involved in this particular side of the business...

“Are you going to have her start working at the brothel soon? She seems just about ready.”

“Not yet. I want to give her a few test runs first before I have her work full-time at that establishment. She’s only been with the four of us, so I’m curious to see how she is with a complete stranger. It’s perfect timing too since Sawamura is coming over for a meeting soon and I know he won’t damage the goods if I gift her to him for a night or two. Plus, she hasn’t completely lost her mind yet so we can get some more use out of her before we toss her aside...”

The brunette rambles on, tone light and airy as if he’s just discussing the weather or a TV show he watched, as if he’s not mere feet away from a woman he’s utterly destroyed and rebuilt into just another brainless profit-making doll.

And Iwaizumi tunes him out, already having heard almost this exact speech countless times by now, unable to even keep track of how many others like you there have been in the past, unwilling to think about how many more there will be in the future. But he snorts at Oikawa’s typical closing line.

“I guess it’s almost time to find a new cute maid.”

#haikyuu smut #yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa #yandere oikawa x reader #oikawa x reader #tw: yandere #tw: drugging #tw: drugs #tw: addiction #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon

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imaginethebeautifulworld · 4 years ago

Note

Hello! I hope you are having a good day/night. May I ask for axis and allies plus spain, romano and prussia speaking to their s/o in their native language? Thank you very much! -Humble Anon💕

A very good morning/afternoon/evening to you as well, lovely!

When I began brainstorming these, I kept approaching this ask with the thought in mind that the S/O's first language is not the same as that of the Nation's, and aren't quite completely fluent as of yet. It made it a little bit easier for me to write, and offered me just a little more leeway to daydream. ^_^;

America:

Alfred really only does so when he's super tired, stumbling into the kitchen with bedhead to grab his first five cups of coffee, half-flopping on you as he greets you with a kiss to the cheek- ruined by his yawn- accent stronger than normal as he rumbles out a good morning, asks how you slept. He rambles lightly about his weird-ass dreams, making you smile just from his annunciations. At some point, he remembers to start translating, swapping over to the dialect you're most familiar with mid-sentence.

Canada:

Oddly enough, Matthew plays Language Tag more frequently than Al, but more often than not, it's usually an unrefined Franglish that has always irritated Francis and Arthur. (He enjoys this fact, just a little.) Around you, however, it really only flares up in moments where he's just so overwhelmed and in awe, taken aback by how much he's in love with you. Most of his petnames for you are in English, but those moments where you're both spending a lazy evening in bed, he'll happily shower you with all kinds of cheesey compliments in French, teasingly poking your nose every time you try to get him to translate.

China:

Yao has a habit of slipping back to Chinese on a whim, honestly oblivious to the fact most of the time. You've noticed it gets significantly worse whenever he's stressed, and you've learnt some very colourful nicknames for the Others over the years because of it. Despite his seemingly incessant need to pace while venting, you always manage to coax him into your arms, steadily working your fingers across his back, easy out the knots that had been plaguing him. Meetings always brought him stress, but after a good rant and a few moments of your grounding touch, he's sighing away all remaining agitation, slowly bringing himself back to you and apologising for the slip.

England:

One of Arthur's greater strengths comes in linguistics. While he would much rather prefer a courtship with an English speaker, he's not going to deny himself happiness just because of a silly little language barrier. He generally tries to keep everything on common ground, but his nicknames for you, and some of his more scandalising compliments, are murmurred in English. He always keeps it quiet, an intimacy reserved only for you. There's many a "dearest" and "darling" when first waking up in the morning, a languid greeting for the coming day. (Also, he swears mostly in English, so be careful if you decide to borrow any of his vocabulary.)

France:

Francis never hesitates to prattle in French; it's second nature to him. Sometimes, he'll hop between both yours and his preferred dialects several times in a single sentence. You know it's just part of who he is, and while it can be annoying some days, it is helping you improve your own fluency. There are also moments when he makes you weak, his expression uncharacteristically sincere, hands carefully clasping your own. He hums out a soft phrase, one you still haven't fully translated, leaning closer to caress your jaw, thumb brushing against your cheek, any number of praises passing his lips.

Germany:

Ludvig, since Day One, has tried his best to make sure you're comfortable around him, and part of that is him keeping firmly to the language you are most familiar with. When coming across words he may not be entirely familiar with, or saying a more complicated phrase, his accent may sometimes come out a bit thicker than would be normal. The only time he really slips into German is when he's on the phone with folks from his government. You don't mean to eavesdrop on the latter, but you do enjoy how much deeper his voice tends to get when he's being "professional." Secretly though, you have to admit his voice when he sleeptalks is your favourite of them all.

Japan:

Kiku constantly, and often unnecessarily, goes out of his way to make sure that you're comfortable, and despite your arguing against it, one of his ways of trying to do so is to only stick the language you both share. Frankly, you love hearing him speak Japanese, even though you really only hear it when he's at the store, and sometimes to the servers during date night. You love how gentle his voice is, his accent adding almost a sweetness to his words. Lately, you've been debating how to tell him that you'd like to hear it more, but for now you savour the little pieces you've collected over the past few months.

Prussia:

You learnt some time ago that Gilbert quietly speaking in German actually helped you fall asleep significantly easier. For that reason, he primarily only does so while either headed to bed, or whenever you're spending an afternoon together in the library. He'll sometimes read to you, but mostly he tends to ramble. You only understand a handful of the things he's saying and assume that he's regaling you with tales of days long past. In reality, he's running through his checklist for car parts he wants to fix, complaining about something stupid Roderich did back in 1648, and most often- when you're on the cusp of sleep, breathing deep and relaxed, his hand resting on your back- he's listing off every single thing he's come to love about you, not as afraid of his vulnerability when you're hardly conscious enough to hear it.

Romano:

Lovino spent too long relearning Italian to ever abandon it, even for your sake. He casually weaves it into regular conversation, the endearments, greetings, exclamations, and nicknames fluidly blending into the ordinary. He figured out quite a while ago that you actually enjoyed his "slip ups," so he's especially generous on date nights, about half of the words he's saying falling around you in his unique dialect. He once told you that you should be grateful, that he was blessing you with "the most beautiful language in the world." And begrudgingly, lost in his smile and the way the candlelight makes his eyes spark, you have to agree.

Russia:

Over time, one of your favourite pastimes with Ivan has becoming hunkering down on a settee by the fireplace, where he'll work on his knitting. The best part of these moments, especially on particularly frigid mornings where you've no obligations, is that Ivan will start to sing to himself, always pieces in Russian. Sometimes they're lullabies he's picked up from the royal families over the years, sometimes they're peasant rhymes he's known since childhood, and on some rare occasions, he'll sing something from an opera he fell in love with back in 1872. He'll often pepper in a few casual words here and there, always with a lightness to it, but you're absolutely addicted to how full his voice sounds when he sings.

Spain:

Antonio is actually the worst of the bunch. He can and will ramble in Spanish, a lot, so much so that some of it has permanently rooted itself into your own vocabulary, some of your replies slipping out without pause these days. He tends to catch onto his slip-ups quickly at least, quickly sliding back into your shared venacular with a quick apology. Still, you'll often hear him singing in Spanish, greeting the plants in Spanish, talking to the cats in Spanish. He's particullarly bad at losing himself whenever he's invested in a football match, or if you happen to catch him irritated about politics. Tonio has taught you quite a few colourful curses over the years, smattered with some day-to-day phrases you've both come to recite by default.

Veneziano:

Feliciano is surprisingly good at sticking to the language you feel most comfortable with, though he's notorious at mucking up the number of syllables in certain words. You have a strong suspicion he does this intentionally, this elongation solely designed to annoy you, especially as he always seems slightly bemused each time he does it. Regardless of how annoying he can be in your language, you do love eavesdropping on his conversations with his brothers, chattering away in Italian, his words and hands moving far too quickly for you to even hope to follow along. There's something so soothing in listening to him speak, even if he is producing 500 words per minute.

Thanks for the ask, Anon! I hope you enjoyed~

534 notes · View notes

fanmoose12 · 3 years ago

Text

catch me if you can

Сharacters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Erwin Smith, Kenny Ackerman

Genres: Mystery / Romance

Summary: The Ackerman duo. Just the mention of this name filled Hange with so many feelings. Mostly, when she reread the files of their cases over and over, until her eyes watered, she felt pricking annoyance. Sometimes, when she stared at the dead bodies of those scarce unfortunates who stumbled upon their crimes, she was filled with hatred and a pushing need for revenge. Hange couldn’t deny, however, there were times when she marveled at the impudence of their crimes. And, when she was investigating the Ackerman’s cases and saw just how meticulously planned they all were, she couldn’t help but feel something close to fascination.No one knew who they were. No one had seen their faces, no one knew their true names. Almost everyone knew of their crimes.Hange was determined to unravel every last one of their secrets. She will put an end to their crimes and then she will get the elusive Ackermans behind bars.

Chapter 8/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Hange hated it.

She hated it all – the today’s cold early morning, the yesterday’s long, sleepless night, the shitty, overpriced coffee from the airport cafe. She hated the weather that was too cold not to wear a coat and a scarf, but now made her sweat in all the layers of clothing. She hated the uncomfortable chair she was sitting at, hated waiting for so long just to see the needed flight appear on screen. She hated her new case and the sense of urgency it brought along. She hated that she had to work with him to find that missing young girl.

And more than all of that, she hated that sleazy bastard, that Ackerman.

She hated that morning in the hospital, when she found a note and recognized that it was written by the same hand that used to mock her every failure. Everything clicked right there and then, and Hange hated that she felt sad about it. Not angry, not betrayed, but sad. She was hurt, she was miserable, so much so that she actually shed a few tears, feeling like she lost someone she never actually had.

She should have known better, should have not let that happen. She shouldn’t have trusted him, not after just a couple of dates, after a few silly jokes and endearing gestures. But Ackerman, that damned thief, managed to sneak through all of her defenses, he made her think that there was something there, some connection between them. Perhaps, even something special.

Then everything turned out to be a lie, and it left her broken, wondering what she did wrong, when did she become so naive. She threw herself into her work, finding a short respite in it. For long two months that seemed more like a few days, she almost felt at piece, almost managed to convince herself – and everyone else – that she ceased thinking about Ackermans, their case and the man who might or might not even be called Levi. And now she had to work with him.

Hange hated her job sometimes.

She also hated her heart most of the time, especially right now, when it squeezed painfully at the sight of Ackerman’s dark, sullen and so unfairly handsome face.

Despite the large crowd and long corridor that separated them, their eyes still met each other.

Her treacherous heart skipped another beat.

Hange gripped the paper coffee cup as tight as it allowed, forcing herself to school her expression in something more appropriate – cold, detached. Not so heartbroken.

At least, Ackerman had the decency to look ashamed. He lowered his gaze as soon as he saw her, and it gave Hange the time to look over his entire form.

He changed. Ever so slightly, but still noticeable enough for Hange’s keen eyes.

He was more tanned now, not nearly as sickly pale as he was before. The circles under his eyes didn’t disappear though, and so didn’t his stiff posture. There was another change, however - a small cut on his left cheek. It sparked a quick flash of anger for the person responsible. Hange hated herself for that, too.

She shouldn’t care about that, shouldn’t wonder about the person who hurt Levi, shouldn’t wish to hurt them back. These feelings, they irritated Hange. Unfortunately, she couldn’t make them disappear.

“It’s just you here?” Ackerman approached her slowly, his hand gripping the strap of his travelling bag just as tightly as Hange held her coffee cup. She stood up too, straightening to her full height. Ackerman stopped, just a few steps away from her. “I thought you would bring the entire police department to arrest me.”

Hange scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You’re not that important.”

And there was also that tiny little thing about her not actually having the power to arrest him. Technically, the Ackermans’ case was closed. Technically, Hange had no definitive piece of evidence that she could have used to lock him up.

Technically, Ackerman wasn’t even supposed to be here. And neither was she.

Back at the precinct, no one actually knew about that venture of hers. And they wouldn’t find out about it, not if Hange did everything right.

There were lots of reasons why Hange had to keep Ackerman’s involvement a secret. There was this thing about him being a notorious criminal who escaped justice, but more importantly, there was this little thing about her going on a date with the said criminal. Hange knew that Erwin knew about Levi and his true identity, he never told her that specifically, but when Hange demanded to take her off Ackerman’s case, he didn’t even bat an eye. He also didn’t ask a single question. The absence of his reaction made her wonder just how much he actually knew, and for how long he had that knowledge. Had he known since the beginning? Had he kept quiet just to see where it would lead? And whether she would realize the truth or not?

Hange didn’t have the guts to ask Erwin about that directly, didn’t wish to open that can of worms right now, preferred that it would stay closed for good. They both ignored that mistake of hers, both didn’t dare to bring up Levi or her previous case. And Hange would have liked for it to stay this way forever.

But if Erwin found out that Hange made Ackerman come out of hiding, so he would help her to find the missing Krista Lenz, well… Erwin probably wouldn’t chew her head off, but he definitely would give her a strict, and extremely long verbal reprimanding.

And he would take her off the case, and that… well, Hange already had a case she failed at spectacularly, she didn’t wish for that to become a pattern.

She also wished to find Krista Lenz and save her from whatever peril she found herself in. Hange didn’t know her, had only seen the photos, but that bright smile and those kind blue eyes kept pushing her forward, gave her a reason to not just solve the case, but bring that girl home.

And if she had to work with the damned Ackerman to achieve it, so be it.

“We have a lot of work ahead of us,” she promptly turned away from him, starting a brisk pace and heading to the exit of the airport. She hoped the Ackerman would follow. He did, surprisingly obedient. “Let’s eat before we start.”

***

The diner was nice.

Small but cozy, the interior was made up entirely of combination of blue and white. The tables were clean and adorned with neat, soft tablecloth, the booth he was sitting at was spacious and comfortable, the food was delicious and tea was made just as he liked it, even the music didn’t bother him, a pleasant, quiet melody was playing, adding to the atmosphere.

The diner was nice. His company, however, was not. Levi never thought that someone could eat breakfast so angrily. But every time his and Hange’s gazes met, he was quick to look away, her icy cold stare practically boring into his soul.

Thankfully, while Hange was busy devouring her omelet, she didn’t glance at him even once. She had mentioned that she was starving, and, knowing her work etiquette and seeing that her cheekbones became slightly more pronounced, Levi was inclined to think that her backhanded remark wasn’t just a figure of speech.

Watching her eat made Levi wonder what would happen if he ordered her a desert. Would Hange punch him or simply annihilate him with her glare?

Honestly, Levi was surprised she hadn’t punched him the moment she had seen him in the airport. He was also immensely surprised that he was having breakfast in a diner and not on his way to the prison.

During the phone call, Hange said that she wasn’t going to arrest him, but still, he would have liked to ask more about it. However, breaching that subject with Hange looking so furious didn’t seem like a great idea. He was walking on a thin ice as it was.

But even so, the tense silence was swiftly becoming unbearable, and Levi raked his brain for a topic of conversation, something safe and unassuming, the kind of talk that wouldn’t earn him a kick to his face.

“So how did you find me?”

Not the best way to start, Levi realized that as soon as the question tumbled out of his mouth. He cringed, thinking if he should just take his words back. But it was already too late.

Hange put the fork down and looked at him. With her eyebrows furrowed like that, she looked too much like her Captain, that annoying Erwin Smith. She wasn’t nearly as annoying, though. And, in Levi’s humble opinion, she was much handsomer than her mentor.

“It wasn’t that hard,” Hange said, as she wiped her mouth with a napkin. Some gravy remained at the side of her lips, but Levi wasn’t sure if he should point that out. He would have liked to wipe it out himself, he remembered doing exactly that during one of their dates, which felt like it had happened a lifetime ago. He would have liked to repeat that simple gesture. Then again, Hange probably wouldn’t have liked if he did that. “I guessed that you left the city on the night when…” something in her expression shifted, her face became less guarded. But Hange blinked and it was gone, the same stone mask returning. She cleared her throat and continued, “when we spoke for the last time. Since I knew when you left, it was only a matter of looking at the camera recording from the airport and finding which flight you took. Then I requested some security viewings from the city you were hiding at, and… here you are.”

Hange made it sound so simple, Levi almost believed that it actually was. Her exhausted face told another story, though. Levi could only imagine how long it took her to find him. She must be at her wit’s end, if she went through all of this just to get his help.

“What do you need me for then?”

Hange reached to her bag, opening and rummaging through it. When she was finished, she took out the case file and handed it to him.

“This is Krista Lenz, a college student who had disappeared a week ago,” Levi opened the case file, young blonde girl with impossibly bright eyes stared at him from the first page. “Do you recognize her?”

Levi looked at the photo for another second, just to be sure. But the girl on the photo stirred nothing in him. No vague memory, no sort of recollection. The name didn’t sound familiar, and if he had ever met the girl, it could only be in passing, as both of them, perhaps, walked beside each other on the same sidewalk. But that was the extent of it. Whoever this girl was, Levi did not know her.

He said the very thing to Hange, as he closed and pushed the case file back to her.

Hange pushed it back to him. “Well, too bad that you don’t know her. Because your uncle is the one who kidnapped her.”

Levi was very grateful for his extreme talent at keeping his face straight, because mentally his jaw was somewhere near the fucking floor. Externally, however, he didn’t let a single muscle on his face twitch.

With more self-restraint that he thought was capable of, he lifted an eyebrow, and asked, “I beg your pardon?”

“You’ve heard me,” Hange opened the case file for him and flicked through a couple of pages. “We searched Krista’s room and found a few letters, written by some Kenny the Reaper. Sounds familiar to you?”

More familiar than Hange thought. Of course, Levi knew Kenny the Reaper, back when he was a brat, his uncle used to tell tales of the Reaper, scary, blood-curling stories about the tall man in a long dusty black coat, who lived across the tracks. Kenny said the man’s hands were constantly covered in red and he always smelled of metal and copper. Kenny said the Reaper would come and take him, if Levi continued acting like a pathetic, whiny brat. Stories about the Reaper used to terrify the shit out of him, especially during the nights, when Kenny turned off the lights and storm was raging outside.

After his mother died, and Levi was spending his days in bed, crying himself to sleep, the stories about Kenny the Reaper reached their peak.

Kenny the Reaper would whisk you away at night if you don’t eat the soup, Kenny the Reaper would stand above your bed during the night if you don’t go to sleep, Kenny the Reaper would bath you in your own blood, if you don’t change your dirty clothes, Kenny the Reaper would come and eat your heart in front of you, if you don’t stop crying.

During those horrible, grief-filled days, only the fear of Kenny the Reaper was able to stop Levi from wallowing in his own misery.

Kenny wasn’t the best parent, wasn’t truly made for it, but, surprisingly, some of his methods, as cruel as they were, actually worked on Levi.

But he stopped with the silly stories once Levi became a teenager and they ceased having an effect on him.

Then why did Kenny the Reaper return? Why did he write letters to a young girl, who had disappeared? Could it really be that his uncle was the culprit?

Levi looked down at the case file, where a picture of the Reaper’s note was attached. All doubts disappeared from his mind. It was Kenny’s handwriting, the same messy, barely incomprehensible scribblings. But how did they appear inside the missing girl’s room? And why did Kenny write them in the first place?

He looked at note more closely, squinting to read it.

I have something you might want to look at it, little Missy. Come to the tracks tonight, or Kenny the Ripper will take you away by force.

Levi stared at the note for another moment, struggling to comprehend. It looked like… utter gibberish.

“So?” Hange lifted the cup to her lips, watching him over its rim. “Was my hunch correct? Is it really your uncle’s doing?”

It was just a hunch, but Hange had him located and brought back into the city simply to check if she was right? Either she was that confident in her theory, or… she was that desperate.

“It’s his handwriting,” he told her. “This note was definitely written by him.”

But did Kenny kidnap some girl? Levi didn’t know if that was possible. Why would his uncle even do that? What shitty trouble was he involved in this time? What was going on in the city during the two months that he was away? What Kenny was up to during that time? What was he up to right now?

It seemed like Levi certainly had missed a lot. He had to catch up to it all, and quickly. Perhaps, Hange would be able to help him.

“I don’t think Kenny had taken that girl,” Levi wasn’t sure if his uncle was even capable of that. Sure, he did some nasty things, but always for a reason. And what possible reason could he have to kidnap a young girl? “Did you receive a ransom after her disappearance?”

“No. There is utter silence after Krista went missing. I thought about your uncle only because I’ve remembered you mentioning that his name was Kenny. Decided this theory was worth pursuing.”

Levi didn’t even know he said it, but Hange remembered it? This small detail probably shouldn’t have made him feel so warm inside.

She’s a detective, it’s her job to pick up and remember stuff, he told himself. His heart refused to listen.

“I’m willing to help you find him,” he said to Hange, shaking his head to get rid of useless thoughts. He had a more pressing matter right now. For example, why the fuck his uncle decided to kidnap someone. Finding an answer to this question was his priority. Levi just had to remember that.

“Oh,” Hange waved her hand dismissively. “You don’t really have a choice in that. I need you to help me, Ackerman. And since your apartment was abandoned a little over a week ago, just as Krista went missing, I think it’s a good place to start our investigation.”

Hange knew where his apartment was located? This was hardly surprising, considering that she managed to find him in another city, but still… Her detective skills were brilliant.

Hange waved over the waitress, asking for a bill. As soon as she paid, she stood up. Levi quickly followed her suit.

“My apartment is on the other side of town,” he began, as he fell into step with Hange. “Aren’t you afraid I’m going to escape?”

“Want me to handcuff you, Ackerman? Didn’t know you were so kinky,” surprisingly, Hange grinned. But the merry expression didn’t stay for long. The serious detective face returned almost immediately. “If you really think about escaping, my advice to you – don’t. I found you in another city on the other side of the world. How long do you think it would take me to find you here?”

Well, point was certainly taken. No more jokes and attempts at flirting. Hange was definitely not in the mood for this. Levi would have liked to blame it on her case, but he wasn’t that naïve and he was never that good at fooling himself. Hange hated him now, and there was nothing surprising about it. He knew it was going to come to this. He thought he was prepared.

But the bitter taste in his mouth, the giant, crushing weight in his chest – that he wasn’t ready for.

“It’ll be easier to get to my apartment by the subway,” he said, swallowing down the lump in his throat. “Come on, I’ll lead the way.”

He wanted Hange to throw some stupid joke or a lame one-liner, say at least something. Instead, she followed after him without a single word.

Levi's disappointment was unmeasurable.

***

Hange didn’t know how exactly she pictured the apartment of two notorious thieves to look like, but she certainly didn’t expect the Ackermans’ den to look so… normal.

No secret traps, no hidden treasures, no weaponry hanging on the wall, there was nothing that could even hint at the possibility that the two men that were living there were criminals.

The apartment was relatively small, with only two bedrooms and a kitchen. It also wasn’t as spartan as Hange would have imagined it to be. There were pictures – but not photos – hanging on the walls, house plants that stood on windowsills, a bookshelf filled with books, curtains that fluttered from the wind coming from the open windows.

All of it was so mundane and cozy… Hange didn’t quite know what to make of it.

However, she had to admit, she was not only surprised, but a little disappointed too. She didn’t know what to expect from Ackermans’ apartment, but she had her ideas of what Levi’s apartment would look like. She pictured a neat, pristine place with spotless floors and shining cutlery.

But in reality, the sink was overflowing with dirty dishes, the kitchen was filled with empty pizza boxes and bottles of beer, clothes were lying in the piles on the floor, dust was flying in the air.

Did the great clean freak Levi really live there? Or was that side of Levi’s persona just another lie?

“Fucking Kenny,” Ackerman mumbled under his breath, his scowl as fierce as ever. “I was gone for two months and he already turned into a pig.”

Oh. So that wasn’t part of an act? Hange was actually relieved to hear it. Enough to chuckle and say, “The obsession with cleanliness doesn’t run in the family?”

Ackerman turned from glaring at the dark stain on the kitchen table to look at her. His mouth twitched, as their eyes met. “Kenny is just a horrible exception.”

And there it was. For no longer than a single moment, but something had ignited, some sort of connection, recognition deep within her, the feeling of belonging. It was the same feeling she had whenever she was with Levi before.

But it wasn’t Levi, she reminded herself strictly. It wasn’t Levi, the awkward, endearing man she stumbled upon one evening. It was Ackerman, a thief who consciously played with her feelings, who lied to her and fooled her into believing he was someone else.

But Hange knew who he was now. She wouldn’t let him fool her anymore.

She looked away from him, her expression turning sourer. Possibly sensing her foul mood, Ackerman turned away too, his frown deepening.

“What exactly you expect to find here?” he asked. “I thought you guys had already searched our house.”

“No. I didn’t want to bother with getting a search warrant.”

She didn’t want to, and she couldn’t. If she came to Erwin, asking for a search warrant for the Ackermans’ apartment, because she suspected that one of Ackermans was involved in her new case, Erwin would call off the case right that instant. He’d say that she was too emotionally compromised, that she couldn’t think straight and had an unhealthy obsession with Ackermans’ case.

Erwin wouldn’t have listened to her theory, wouldn’t have let her continue working. And Hange couldn’t let go of this case, couldn't allow someone from Nile’s team to start searching for the missing Krista Lenz. After all, there was a reason why Erwin gave that case specifically to her. She was driven, endlessly dedicated to her work, Erwin knew she wouldn’t stop before Krista Lenz was found and safely returned to her old life.

And Hange couldn’t let Krista’s safety be compromised, because of some search warrant she didn’t even need. She came here with the owner of the apartment, right? Technically, she got inside without breaking any laws. Except she was working with a criminal, but then again, no one could prove that Ackerman was a criminal. Hange would have to work on that after she brought Krista home.

“So what is it that you hope to find here?” Ackerman repeated his question. “I doubt your missing girl is hidden inside my closet.”

Hange rolled her eyes at the obvious sarcasm. Ackerman didn’t believe her, but she didn’t really need him to. He could believe that his uncle was innocent, that it was some big misunderstanding or whatever lie he created for himself. She didn’t need Ackerman to share her suspicions, she just needed him to help her find Kenny Ackerman.

That was the primary and only reason for his involvement.

“Let’s start with his room then,” Hange said. “Even if Krista isn’t there, perhaps, we’ll be able to find something of use anyway.”

“Well, you’re the boss here,” Ackerman scoffed.

With hands shoved deep into his pockets, Ackerman led her out of the kitchen and into a short hallway. As they walked, they passed a room that had a slightly ajar door. Curious, Hange popped her head inside. In contrast to the rest of the house, that room was tidy. It didn’t take a detective to realize that it was Levi’s room. On a wardrobe beside the bed, there was a blue shirt hanging. Hange recognize it as the same shirt Levi wore to their so-called first date. The shirt was nice, she remembered thinking that it brought Levi’s eyes.

Hange wanted to rip it into pieces.

She kicked the door closed with her foot, ignoring Ackerman’s wide-eyed stare. “Let’s just get it over with,” she grumbled, beyond frustrated.

Thankfully, Ackerman didn’t comment and silently led her to his uncle’s room.

Inside, it was even messier than in the rest of the apartment. Papers were scattered around, empty glasses and plates were littering the floor, the bed was unmade, the blanket and pillow missing from it. The state of the room was even worse than the mess inside Hange’s apartment, even during her bad days. It was dark too, the heavy brown curtains blocking the sunlight from outside entirely.

Honestly, it looked a little too creepy for Hange’s taste. Like the room of a madman. A madman who had kidnapped a young girl. A madman, who without hesitation had killed an innocent man and had almost killed her. Hange felt a shiver ran through her spine at that thought.

“Are you sure that your guys didn’t search the house?” Ackerman’s gruff voice brought her to the present.

“You think that someone broke in?”

“Possibly,” Ackerman nodded. “Either someone broke in, or Kenny just lost his mind.”

“And which one is more probable?”

Ackerman shrugged. “I’d say fifty-fifty.”

“Cool,” she rubbed her temples, feeling a migraine coming. “Amazing. Just awesome.” So she wasn’t only looking for a cruel criminal, but apparently he could be crazy as well. And she thought this case couldn’t get any worse. “Let’s start looking for clues then. Before your uncle arrives and decapitates me or something.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ackerman chided. “He won’t decapitate you. Just slash your throat.”

His dry delivery and his deadpan face made it hard for Hange to understand whether he was joking or not. She hoped he was. She liked her throat, and didn’t want it to be slashed.

“I’ll take the left part of the room,” she announced to Ackerman, immediately getting to work. The sooner they finish here, the lesser were chances of having her throat slashed. Probably.

As Hange kneeled on the floor, looking through papers scattered there, she couldn’t help but look around the room. And as she took a good look at it, she couldn’t help but wonder…

“Why are you doing this?” she asked Ackerman.

He threw her a dark look. “By this you mean…”

“Why do you keep doing this?” she gestured around, “Stealing things, being criminals. You have enough as it is. Why not start doing honest work?”

“We’re stealing from rich assholes. You can hardly call it a crime.”

“Oh, I get it now,” Hange rolled her eyes. “Once a thief forever a thief, right?”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” Ackerman said curtly.

“And why not? Because I’m a cop?”

“Because you’re a cop, dressed in a coat that no cop should be able to afford.”

Affronted, Hange scowled at him. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“That you grew up rich. That you don’t know what poverty or need is. That you have no idea that sometimes,” his eyes flashed, a deep-seated anger coming to surface. Hange wondered if all of it was directed on her alone. “Honest work isn’t enough.”

Logically, Hange knew it was her cue to back away. But she was riled up already, she was exhausted and frustrated. She was also annoyed that Ackerman had figured her out so easily. So instead of shutting up like she should have to, she kept challenging him. “And when exactly honest work isn’t enough?”

“When your mother dies because you can’t pay her medical bills.”

Ackerman spoke quietly, calmly. His tone wasn’t angry or accusing. He didn’t even sound hurt. But Hange felt like the most disgusting piece of shit. Shame cursed through her, as she struggled to find her words, to apologize or— do something rathan than stare helplessly at him.

“Let’s get back to work,” he said, ending the heavy silence.

Hange nodded numbly, scooping a bunch of papers in her hands. She briefly glanced at them, but nothing seemed to hold any importance. There were some bills, checks, half-finished plans, written so messily Hange could barely decipher most of the words. There was nothing that could link Kenny Ackerman to the disappearance of Krista Lenz. Still, Hange persisted, forcing her thoughts to focus on the case, and not on the argument that had transpired moments ago.

It seemed stupid, ridiculous, she was so angry with Ackerman, but now she felt ashamed of her careless words. She was ashamed of being so naïve, so privileged. She knew she was lucky, luckier than most to be born in a wealthy family and have access to everything she needed or wanted. Not everyone was as fortunate as her, and some of people ended up just as Ackermans – driven to the life of crime by poverty and desperation. After all, most of the criminals didn’t choose this way of living, but Hange had forgotten about that. She let her single-minded determination cloud her perception and abandon her principals and initial reason for joining the force.

So fixed on catching criminals, she had forgotten that she wanted to help people, including those, who were lost or didn’t know better.

Hange felt the need to apologize to Ackerman. He was an asshole in his own right, but her cruelty and prejudice was uncalled for. She was better than this. At least, she hoped so.

So lost in her own thoughts, Hange missed the moment when Ackerman had moved from his kneeling position on the floor. Now he stood next to a long desk, gazing at it skeptically.

“If there is something worthy in this pile of shit, it’s gotta be here,” he explained to the confused Hange.

Still sitting on a floor, she watched how Ackerman opened the lowest drawer of the desk, throwing everything that was inside on the floor. More papers fell out. Once the drawer was empty, Ackerman pressed on something inside and revealed a hidden bottom drawer.

A secret compartment! Hange jumped to his side.

He was already shifting through the documents he found inside, his face as bored as ever. “Shit, I think there is nothing important her—”

“Wait!” Hange yelled, yanking a photo from between his fingers. Her eyes wide and mouth open, she stared at it. She knew that face, that face was staring accusingly at her for a whole week now, pushing Hange to find its owner. Linked to that photo was a birth certificate, and it bewildered Hange even more.

“What is it?” Ackerman rose on tiptoes, looking over her shoulder. “Did you find something?”

“I guess I did,” Hange slowly nodded, her eyes still glued to the photo and the document. “It appears we’ve been wrong. We aren’t looking for Krista Lenz. We’re searching for Historia.”

#i'll let you on a little secret: i'm so excited for the next chapter! one of the best snk characters is going to make an appearance!#and no it's not moblit #(sorry moblit ilysm)#levihan

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gravelyhumerus · 4 years ago

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Criminal Minds College AU - Chapter Seventeen

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Title: “I may just take your breath away”

Relationship: Jemily

Summary:

Exams, pizza, board games... what more could a girl ask for?

Slow-burn Jemily college AU where they live across the hall and despite all odds, the universe pushes them together. AKA they’re silly gay babies who pine after each other for months.

Read it on AO3

Tumblr: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, (bonus scene), Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty

“That was a lot of chess,” Emily complained, nearly chugging her latte as she and Spencer left the coffee shop.

She pulled her beanie onto her head and braced herself for the snow as the taller boy held the door open for her. Emily almost slipped on the slushy tile floor on her way out but managed to keep her balance.

“Fifteen of the multiple-choice questions to be precise,” Spencer replied. The salted sidewalk crunched under their feet as they made their way across campus.

“I’m so glad it’s finally over,” she admitted. “I think I’ve had enough philosophy to last me a lifetime.”

“I’m enrolled in ‘Minds and Machines’ next semester,” he said. “I think I might try and get a double minor this time around.”

“What’s the goal? Three PhDs by the time you’re 24?” Emily quipped.

He was well on his way, having completed his engineering degree before she managed to graduate high school. He was 17, only two years younger than her, but somehow seemed like a kid. A kid with more education crammed into his brain than she could ever master in her life.

“Something like that,” he replied with a smile. His hair was getting long and he had tied it back during the exam. With last names starting with P and R, they were seated near each other in the large exam hall, and she glanced over at him as he fussed with his hair.

They stopped at the red light, watching as the cars and busses wooshed past them, sending the slush flying into the snowbanks. It had been a fairly sunny day, but bitterly cold. Now, the sun was setting and the campus was bathed in a warm golden glow. The snow had fallen the night before, leaving fluffy white snow covering their campus.

Emily had spent most of the day holed up in the library with Spencer, with him quizzing her on fallacies and philosophers. With his eidetic memory, he only really needed to read the material once. Earlier in the semester, she did feel useful when it came to editing each other’s essays. He always got bogged down with detail, word vomiting everything he knew, and she helped him with his structure and argumentation.

More studying awaited her back in her room. She rubbed at the back of her neck as she thought about the upcoming evening spent hunched over her desk studying criminal justice, a subject that left her questioning her degree half the time as she was forced to learn about the muddled ethics of justice.

That week, she had survived on minimal sleep, eating mostly bagels and coffee to sustain her. Her body was protesting with each step, and she had suffered from a constant tension headache for as long as she remembered. At least her college had that golden retriever walk around at the library yesterday, she thought to herself, sarcastically. Animal therapy definitely relieved all her stress. As if petting a dog for five minutes would fix the anxiety of finals season.

Two more exams, she reminded herself. You’ll make it.

Despite this mantra, Emily was conflicted. While finals were killing her, the end of the semester also meant winter break. Emily would be forced to go “home” for the holidays. For most college students, that meant going back to their respective towns and being surrounded by their loved ones. Emily, on the other hand, didn’t have anywhere she called home. Last winter break, her mom had at least been in DC, and Emily was able to catch up with some of her international school friends who were in the city. This time, her mom was stationed in London, and Emily knew she’d be roped back into her old life. She didn’t know anyone there and knew most of her break would be spent alone.

The last place she had called home was Rome, and now that was tarnished by her complicated past with that city.

Emily was good at being alone. Being an only child of a workaholic single mom meant she learned to keep her own company. She read a lot. She got good at running away, escaping her nannies, and skirting security in order to roam free. She’d be fine.

The problem was that Emily had gotten used to this. She rarely spent a moment alone these days. Whether it was walking to class with Spencer, or Hotch, or Derek, getting lunch with the team, surprise coffee dates with Penelope and spending almost every evening with her girlfriend, she hadn’t been left alone in ages. She didn’t miss it.

Their residence building had a warm yellow light shining out of the windows and a soft red brick facade. In the summer, ivy grew up the south facing side but in the winter, the ledges were covered in snow and the stone steps were slippery. She trudged forward, excited for the warm embrace of the dorm.

Spencer had other plans. He reached into the garish yellow plastic newspaper box that was stationed next to their doorway and retrieved this week’s newspaper.

“Come on Reid,” Emily said. “Just subscribe to the newsletter or something like the rest of us.”

He held up the cover to her in surprise. Usually it reported the news of a recent sports victory, or a change of policy announced by the administrators, or even a fun event held on campus. Sometimes there was even a dramatic protest or an important speaker coming to campus. But this week, the headline surprised her. In large font printed across the page read: “Multiple student politicians fired amid financial scandal.”

“That sounds bad,” Emily said. It did seem way more dramatic on newsprint than on a website, so maybe Spencer was onto something with his affinity for the printed word.

Grabbing a copy for herself, she then walked inside to escape the cold. Warm air greeted them as they entered their residence hall, and both students kicked the snow off their boots before trudging up the stairs. They read as they walked, but the route to their rooms was already muscle memory, so neither worried about stumbling on their way.

Normally, Emily wouldn’t willingly touch this sort of student politics with a ten foot pole. Sure, she was involved with the Criminology council, but there was a difference between the kind of person interested in petitioning for better accessibility to faculty events or running a bake sale, and the kind of students to embezzle thousands of student dollars like what the current student government executive seemed to be accused of doing.

She quickly ran her eyes down the page, the contents jogging a memory from Halloween, of Hotch and JJ discussing the early stirrings of said scandal.

“You know,” Spencer said, “I’m surprised they got a lot of this information, it’s notoriously difficult to file FOIAs for student governments, as they’re technically private corporations. So the fact that they got these files means that this is a much bigger scandal than one might assume.”

Corruption, bribery, embezzlement, nepotism. All words that jogged memories of hiding in the corner of political fundraisers, overhearing the worst of politics from too-drunk elites sipping on their wine and munching on charcuterie.

“I hate politics,” Emily said, stuffing her copy of the paper into her bag.

“I find it interesting. It’s basically a microcosm of our current political climate. In fact, I have subscribed to the print edition of fifteen student papers in the region,” Spencer said, “I like to keep informed on the coverage of student issues, and compare them to our own.”

“Why?!” Emily said with a laugh. “You know you can just look them up online.”

Spencer gave her a withering look, and she should have known better than asking about his aversion to tech. He loathed having to use his computer, as the LCD screens apparently gave him a headache. Penelope even gave him a pair of blue light glasses to attempt to alleviate the issue.

Then, he began to speak, at length, about the dying printed news industry and why print copies were better for understanding than screens et cetera. She made sure to nod and hum at appropriate points, but her mind kept wandering.

She wondered if her girlfriend was in her room. Emily missed her any time they were apart and she yearned to hold her in her arms once again. But she shouldn’t. She needed to work. She had too much to do. Her grades had slipped, slightly, this semester. Everyone warned her about how college would be harder than high school, but no one ever warned her how much the expectations were raised in second year.

Two more exams. She clutched her coffee tighter. She’d rather do anything else besides study at this point. Her body was exhausted, her mind frazzled. She wondered if she could even manage to get through a chapter of revision before conking out on her desk.

As she said goodbye to Spencer and struggled with her keys that were tangled up in their corresponding university-branded lanyard, JJ’s door opened.

“Hey girlfriend,” JJ greeted her, sounding way too much like a straight girl greeting her platonic friend for Emily’s taste. She gave her a pass because it sounded cute in her voice.

“JJ!” Emily said, somehow surprised to see her despite the fact that she lived right across the hall. Her girlfriend was dressed in sweatpants and an oversized sweater, with her straight hair tucked behind her ears and her face bare of make up. Her face was lit up with a smile, and Emily rushed towards her, planting a soft kiss on her lips.

“Hi JJ,” Spencer said as Emily and JJ kissed.

When they pulled apart, JJ gave Spencer a smile as a greeting and asked them how their exam went.

Spencer babbled about their Logic exams for a minute or two, as Emily basked in JJ’s presence. She grabbed onto her hand and found that it was so much hotter than her own and wasn’t sure if she held on tight because she was cold, or if she had missed her girlfriend.

“I’m just glad it’s over,” Emily said. “I never want to hear about fallacies again.”

Spencer seemed to want to say something, but fell silent at Emily’s tired expression.

“Wanna come in for a bit?” JJ whispered in Emily’s ear. Apparently she said so a touch too loud because Spencer replied instead.

“Sure!” he said, and then walked into JJ and Penelope’s room.

“I should really study,” Emily tried to argue, but a single glance into JJ’s deep, blue eyes had Emily melting.

JJ’s room was much messier than Emily had last seen it. Both desks showed clear markers of the ongoing exams, with papers and books piled high. In addition to this was an assortment of pillows strewn all over the floor.

“You guys are back early!” JJ said, after checking her watch, “I thought it was a two hour exam?”

“I finished in an hour,” Spencer said, “and Emily only needed an extra half hour on top of my time.”

Damn straight, Emily thought, feeling somewhat competitive with the boy-genius despite herself.

She really should study, but the prospect of seeing her girlfriend outweighed the desire to sit hunched over a textbook for another evening.

Emily and Spencer kicked off their boots, placing them neatly on the mat by the door before peeling their jackets off and hanging them on the back of her door. Emily wasn’t sure if she liked winter. Whenever her mother was stationed in the Middle East she yearned for snow, but now that she was experiencing the Nor’easter for the first time, the desert sounded like a good time.

“Well there goes my plan,” JJ said, blowing her hair out of her face with a puff of air.

Spencer flopped onto Penelope’s neatly-made bed, collapsing into the assortment of pink pillows while carefully keeping his take-away cup upright. Emily sat down next to JJ on her bed.

“Your plan?” Emily asked.

“Yeah,” JJ said, sounding a bit shy. “I had this whole plan to make up a blanket fort here for you, and I would surprise you with it when you walked in.’”

JJ gestured with her hands at the mess. Blankets and pillows were strewn about, and a bundle of fairy lights were laying in the middle of the floor.

“Then you came back early,” JJ concluded. “Spence, I thought you’d keep her occupied longer!”

“You didn’t tell me that,” he replied. Spencer looked quizzically at her, shrugged, then took another sip of his coffee.

“I just wanted us to have a cute date night,” JJ admitted. “I know you’re so stressed, and you deserve a break.”

Emily grabbed her girlfriend’s moving hands and held them in her own. She felt overwhelmed. JJ was so… thoughtful. Caring. Attentive. So many things that were absolutely foreign to Emily. No one had ever tried to impress her like this.

“It’s okay,” Emily said. “We don’t need anything special to have a cute date night. You’re cute enough.”

JJ gave Emily a goofy smile in response.

“Okay,” JJ said. “If you say so.”

“You’re building a blanket fort?” Spencer asked. “I actually have some experience with blanket fort architecture.”

“You do?” JJ asked, raising her eyebrows skeptically.

“Of course,” he replied, seeming almost offended that she questioned him. “It sparked my interest in engineering. I wanted to overcome the problem of chair-tippage when it came to building the structure, so I devised a system of counter-weights that I found increased the structural integrity by 53%. My mom always told me that I could be an architect, but I thought the sciences better suited my intellect.”

“Oh?” Emily asked, genuinely interested. How would someone measure the structural integrity of a blanket fort?

“Actually, I have some blueprints. Let me grab them,” he said, standing up and making a move for the door.

“Of course you have blueprints,” JJ laughed.

“I should probably go feed Gideon, anyway. I’ll be right back!” Spencer said. Before closing the door behind him.

“Gideon?” Emily asked.

“His fish,” JJ said, “the one he won at the fair. It’s named after his professor, I think.”

She shrugged. The kid was weird, they tended to just accept that.

“I guess Spencer’s joining us on date night,” JJ said. “Sorry. I know you’re stressed and probably want to be studying, but I thought we’d order pizza and just have one night off. Just us. And Spencer.”

JJ planted a firm kiss on Emily’s lips, leaving her dazed and blushing.

“Relaxing sounds perfect,” Emily said, pulling her girlfriend closer to her. “I can’t believe it’s already exams. This semester has flown by. Soon it’ll be winter break, and I won’t get to see you.”

“I can’t imagine you not being right across the hall,” JJ said. “Who will give me kisses when I want them?”

JJ kissed Emily, sucking on Emily’s bottom lip slightly before pulling apart to look at her.

“I know you’re joking, but I hope you’re not kissing anybody else, no matter the circumstances.”

With that established, Emily pounced on her girlfriend, pushing her onto her bed and kissing her deeply. She intertwined her fingers in the blonde locks that were splayed out in a golden halo and breathed in deep, taking in the warm scent of the lilac candle that burnt on her night side table.

All her worries melted away at JJ’s touch. Emily’s brain was filled with the feeling of JJ’s lips on hers, with her lithe form beneath her. Exams, student politics and thoughts of home were wiped away, and her stress faded into background noise.

JJ’s pliant form writhed under Emily’s, her hands sneaking below Emily’s sweater and dancing over her back. They deepened the kiss until they were making out like teenagers in JJ’s dorm with the door still open a crack.

This was how Spencer, accompanied by Derek, found them when they pushed open the door with blanket fort blueprints and bags of potato chips in hand.

Spencer made a surprised noise, which made Emily aware of his return. She jumped up and pulled apart from JJ with a dark red blush gracing her cheeks.

“Woah there ladies,” Derek said with a laugh. “Keep it in your pants!”

“Guys! I was gone for five minutes!” Spencer whined.

Emily stood up awkwardly, stuffing her hands in her pockets as she watched JJ sit up and pat her hair down in a huff.

“Sorry,” Emily grumbled, not really meaning it. She would never be sorry for kissing JJ, but she was sorry for the awkwardness

“Pretty boy dragged me down the hall,” Derek said in explanation. He had Spencer’s rolled-up fort plans in his hand, and lightly smacked Emily’s head with it, making a comedic thwap noise as it made contact. “Hope you weren’t in the middle of something?”

“Only JJ’s legs,” Emily quipped to everyone’s surprise, even her own. JJ hit her jokingly and blushed.

“Hey!” Derek laughed, “Let’s keep this PG!”

“You called?” The voice of Penelope Garcia—PG if you will—rang out from the hallway, and within seconds JJ’s room was filled with just about all their friends standing around in a slightly awkward silence: JJ, Emily, Spencer and Derek were joined by Penelope with Hotch in tow.

The latter two of them had grown closer recently and walked into the room with white shopping bags with the walrus logo printed on the side, looking like they had just returned from out in the cold. Penelope and Hotch going thrifting together, that’s new! Emily thought to herself and decided to file the observation for later. The image of Hotch watching Penelope’s customary fashion show was enough to make her laugh under her breath.

“We’re building a blanket fort,” Spencer announced, changing the subject to the task at hand. “Are you guys helping?”

“Oh you know I will, boy genius,” Penelope said with an excited smile.

Emily looked over to her girlfriend. So much for date night.

———

Without much questioning about why they were building a blanket fort, the team got to work. In college, sometimes things just happened. Impromptu blanket forts were par the course. In their defense, any excuse to not spend the evening burying their heads in textbooks was a welcome reprieve.

It started with just a few blankets draped in the space between JJ and Penelope’s beds, but with Spencer’s instruction, a verifiable architectural marvel began to take shape.

While Emily knew that Penelope would be all gung ho for this sort of project, it was certainly amusing to see Hotch in his khakis and dress shirt crawling around on the floor like a child with the rest of them, tying off blankets and very seriously maneuvering the different parts of the structure.

Sheets were draped here and there, tied together to form ceilings and walls. Two chairs stolen from the common room, loaded with backpacks on the seat for support acted as the entrance to the fort.

While it was crawling space only, Emily had to note that there was a sense of awe when you emerged into the open space of the main fort-area. It was surprisingly big, fitting all six of them with ease. The key to the whole design was a curtain rod Hotch had stolen from the boys shower that lifted the roof up.

The design was strangely reminiscent of Baroque architecture, which she was sure was due to Spencer’s designs. This was a fact that Emily kept to herself. She always tried to rein in the ‘I lived abroad’ conversation points so her childhood could remain under minimal scrutiny.

Emily’s exhaustion transformed into excitement as she relished the time hanging out with her friends. Music played from Penelope’s computer as they worked, they began to work as a cohesive group, each member doing their share. It was nice to do something besides sit at her desk and obsess over memorizing facts and statistics, or figuring out the proper argumentation for an essay on a subject. Making sure that a bunch of blankets didn’t crash onto them was treated with the utmost seriousness, and the whole group was focused with intense concentration at their own tasks.

Spencer did, in fact, have literal sketches of blanket forts in his notebooks, but the details of which were fairly incomprehensible to her. While she believed that he did the math, his chicken scratch was just about indecipherable, and his drawing was little more than a few shapes on a page. Despite this, it was laid out on the centre of the dorm-room floor for them to reference.

At one point, as Emily stood on JJ’s wheely chair, she feared that the fort had all come crashing down as she lost her balance and grabbed at the blankets to stop her fall before tumbling onto Derek with a yelp.

“Sorry,” she muttered as she climbed back onto her feet and fought off the blanket that had wrapped her in a shroud.

She flinched as she realized she had ruined it all, a pit forming in her stomach. She looked at her friends in concern, but instead of yelling at her for her mistake, or shunning her for ruining it for the rest of them, they smiled at her and helped her up.

“It’s okay!” Spencer said cheerfully. “I know exactly how to reinforce that wall.”

“You okay, Emily?” Hotch asked, righting the wheely chair as JJ fretted over her.

“I’m good,” she answered, still confused as to why they weren’t mad at her.

Instead of making a big deal over the set back, they went back to work. Soon, the fort filled out and it returned to its former glory. Arguably, better than it was because they had draped fairy lights throughout the inside, making the space glow with a warm orange light.

Inside was filled with pillows and big enough for all of them to sit comfortably so it was a comfy lounge space. It was cozy and warm, the antithesis of the bitterly cold night air outside.

“You know what?” Hotch said. “This is a damned good fort, Reid.”

The group muttered in consensus. They all had piled into the space, and as the excitement wore off, Emily was wondering what happened next. What does one do in a blanket fort? She had vague memories of building one in her room, but she had just sat inside and read a book.

“I hear the RA’s storage room has a ton of board games,” Penelope said. “They pull them out for socials and stuff.”

“That’s all well and good, but we’re not asking Strauss to let us in,” Derek argued. “I still think she thinks we were responsible for that fire alarm last week. She’s been giving me the evil eye ever since.”

“Who said we had to tell her?” Emily said. “We could just… borrow… them…”

“I mean, they are for us to use, anyway.” JJ’s eyes had a mischievous look in them as she looked at Emily.

“That is true,” Hotch said, the scowl that was usually a fixture on his face turning to a smirk.

“That’s stealing, guys,” Spencer warned, as if they didn’t already know that.

“We’ll give them back,” Emily said with a shrug. “Come on!”

Penelope led the way to a dark wooden door on the main floor, it was labelled simply “Storage,” but the computer science student assured them that it was where the RA’s stored all of their supplies.

“It’s locked,” Penelope huffed.

“Do you have a bobby pin?” Emily asked her in a hushed voice. She wouldn’t have gotten this far if she hadn’t learned how to pick simple door locks. She had trouble with deadbolts but a simple latch she could probably do within a couple of minutes.

The blonde pulled a hot pink bobby pin out of her perfectly curled hair. Emily snapped it into two, bending one end into a longer L-shape. Sticking that into the bottom of the lock and holding it in place, she used the other side to feel for the pins that held the lock in place.

Emily could feel all eyes on her as she confidently knelt in front of the doorknob, the group keeping watch for her as she worked. No one questioned how or why Emily knew how to do this. She had her reasons.

This definitely broke all sorts of residence rules and if they got caught, they knew they’d get into shit, but no one seemed to care that much. They just wouldn’t get caught.

After a couple minutes, Emily’s hands began to sweat. What if she couldn’t do this anymore? She tried to centre herself. She had made it through infinitely more stressful situations in the past. It was the eyes of her friends on her that made her nervous. She was finally accepted by a group, and she desperately didn’t want to let them down.

Then, it clicked, and she was able to turn the brass knob easily. Emily made a noise of excitement, got to her feet and yanked the door open.

Instead of an empty storage closet, on the other side of the door was Erin Strauss, their RA, in a passionate embrace with David Rossi. Her shirt was unbuttoned and he was in the middle of sucking on her neck.

“Dave?!” Hotch called out, startling the couple.

Both groups stood stock-still, neither knowing what to say. While Emily had hid the bobby pins, she wasn’t sure who was in more trouble, them for breaking into the room or their RA for using the space for unofficial purposes.

The room was small and cramped, with a pile of poster board mostly obscuring the one small window that lit the space. Strauss had been hoisted onto the desk, her legs straddling the other student. Emily could see a shelf filled with the board games stacked on the left side of the room, but they seemed unimportant at the moment. While Emily had known about their illicit love affair, she had never expected to see it in action.

“Hey guys,” Rossi said after a moment, his unwavering confidence carrying on to this moment as he pulled apart from Strauss, who was furiously buttoning up her shirt and trying to sort herself out.

“What are you all doing in here?” she demanded, standing up and putting her hands on her hips. “This room’s meant for RA’s only.”

“Well,” Emily said, startled by her own audacity, “Dave isn’t an RA so…”

“We just came for some board games,” JJ said in her most diplomatic voice, despite clearly wanting to laugh at the situation, “then we’ll be off.”

“Take them and go,” the RA said in a strangled voice, her face beet-red and as she avoided eye contact like it was the plague.

Clearly not as embarrassed as Strauss, Rossi simply smirked, collected a few board games into his arms off of the shelf, then deposited them into Emily’s arms.

Realizing that given the circumstances, they couldn’t be picky with their choices, the stunned group thanked him then scurried away, back upstairs with their loot. The silence remained until they made it back to their floor, where they all burst into laughter.

“What on earth was that?!” Derek exclaimed.

“Rossi and Strauss,” Spencer muttered.

Emily and JJ made eye contact, remembering all those weeks ago when they had caught their friend emerging from the RA’s room down the hall in the middle of the night. They had known that Rossi and Strauss had hooked up that night, but had no idea that it was a whole relationship.

“I see it,” Hotch commented. “I mean, I don’t know your RA too well, but Rossi likes a woman with authority.”

Derek and Emily fake-gagged in an exaggerated manner at the comment.

“I think I need to bleach my eyeballs after that display,” Emily muttered.

“Ooo-kay!” JJ said, pointedly changing the subject. “It seems like we have most of the pieces to Clue… I think we could manage a game of that. We also have Scrabble, Yahtzee and Snakes and Ladders. Uh… also a pack of cards.”

“At least it’s not chess,” Emily said, thinking about her seemingly endless exam that afternoon.

“Agreed,” Spencer said.

“We do not have chess, no,” JJ said with a quizzical laugh.

———

After ordering a couple of pizzas to the dorm, they all settled in to play a board game. After a few minutes of debate, they decided to play Clue (or Cluedo as Emily continuously referred to it as). The board was laid out: it was vintage, with a teal and yellow colour scheme and some scuffs and rips showing its age. In their blanket fort, they were seated in a circle, all secretly looking at their Clue cards.

“Can I be Professor Plum?” Spencer asked before they had even gotten the pieces out of the box.

“Of course pretty boy,” Derek said, “I’ll take Mr. Green.”

“My sculpted god of thunder looks excellent in green,” Penelope flirted, choosing the white piece for herself.

“Did you know that in the original version of Clue, Mr Green was a Reverend, but they changed his name for American audience because they believed that the American public would object to a parson as a murder suspect?”

“Good thing you’re on our trivia team, Reid,” Hotch replied.

Emily was Miss Scarlet, of course, and was seated right next to JJ, who had chosen to portray Mrs. Peacock. Hotch claimed the remaining piece: Colonel Mustard.

Emily loved board games. Her nanny in France, who was a kindly elderly woman that Emily only knew as “Madame,” would play with her each Sunday after church. She has hazy memories from that time, but the warm glow of sunlight streaming into their Parisian apartment as she learned how to play Cluedo. Emily would always try to cheat, but knew better than to try to do so with her immensely observant girlfriend seated to her left, JJ’s hand resting casually on Emily’s thigh.

She looked at her cards and grinned. She had been dealt her own character, she noted, as Miss Scarlet’s name was printed in bold on the top of her first card. It felt weirdly validating to know that she herself was innocent. Also in her hands were the cards for the candlestick and pistol, as well as the observatory. She marked these off of her card and tried to gauge her opponents' reactions.

JJ was checking her phone with her cards face down, tracking the pizza’s arrival. Spencer was sprawled back, his long legs taking up way more room than was necessary, jotting down notes on some scrap paper. Presumably some statistics and probability for the possibilities of the cards that were sealed in the envelope in the centre of the board. Penelope smiled over at Derek and flirtatiously tried to sneak a peek at his hand.

After the initial rounds being dedicated to moving around the board, Emily finally made it into her first room: the lounge. There, she decided on her first suggestion.

“I suggest,” Emily said, in her most dramatic, formal voice, which was particularly suited to the role of Miss Scarlet, “that Mrs. Peacock committed this heinous crime in the Lounge with-” she hurriedly grabbed the candlestick, “the candlestick!”

She knew that it wasn’t the correct weapon, but using it would narrow it down to someone ruling out either JJ’s character or the lounge as the scene of the crime.

“Moi?!” JJ said, sounding almost offended at the accusation. “Your own girlfriend?!”

Emily grinned evilly at her, but internally she felt giddy. It was the first time she heard JJ use that word in front of their friends. JJ moved her piece into the Lounge. The others chuckled lightly at their antics.

“You have no alibi for the crime, Mrs. Peacock,” Emily said, “and I am merely making a suggestion.”

JJ glared at her, but said nothing. Emily turned to Derek, who was seated at her left.

“What do I do?” Derek asked, looking around the room, slightly confused.

“Do you have any of those cards?” Hotch asked.

“Yeah-” Derek said, moving to show his hand.

“No!” Penelope stopped him. “Just show one of your cards to Emily if you can prove her suggestion was wrong.”

He made an “o” with his mouth and sneakily showed Emily the Lounge card. Emily noted that, and that it was Derek’s card. Mrs. Peacock had yet to be proven innocent, and Emily gave JJ a suspicious glance.

She loved this game.

As the game progressed, Emily noted a few things about her opponents. A part of Emily was profiling her friends subconsciously, reading each of their strategies like a book.

Penelope always seemed to luck out on her dice rolls, covering a lot of terrain and gathering information like it was a cup of tea. But, she seemed to take it personally when someone accused Mrs. White of having killed Mr. Boddy and gasped every time someone made that suggestion.

Hotch seemed to take the game very seriously, and was at it like he was an actual police officer solving crime. But, it didn’t seem that he completely understood all of the rules, and definitely hadn’t played before, so he spent most of his turn grumbling as he skimmed the rule pamphlet.

Spencer, on the other hand, had memorized the rules, common strategies and probabilities of the different outcomes, so Hotch often looked over to him nervously as the boy wrote longhand equations in the notebook that he pulled out of his bag for the very occasion.

Derek also had never played before, and regularly made ‘accusations’ rather than ‘suggestions’ when he entered a room, frustrating Spencer to no end. But, Derek was smart and seemed to be picking it up as he went along. That was until he made the same suggestion twice in a row, both times making Hotch show him the exact same card. He asked Reid endless questions about specific rules, and more than once he made the boy double check in the rule book when Derek tried to make a rather unorthodox move.

JJ seemed to be the only one genuinely trying to have fun. She munched on the Cheetos that she stored in the bottom drawer of her night stand, and made conversation. Her strategy seemed to be exclusively focused on playing the game like it was the 1985 feature film Clue, playing the role of Mrs. Peacock with a fake accent and treating it like an actual murder-filled dinner party.

After a solid twenty minutes of gameplay, the pizza arrived. With minimal grumbling from Hotch, who was apparently on a roll, they took a break to eat.

“Did you see this?” Spencer said with his mouth full, lifting up the copy of the newspaper that he had grabbed earlier.

“Don’t get me started,” JJ grumbled and took a sip of her pop.

“What happened?” Hotch asked, the conversation piquing his interest.

Spencer explained—with the assistance of JJ who apparently knew one of the people involved through soccer—the entire scandal. Apparently, last year there had been very little interest in the leadership roles, so the President of the student government had simply waltzed into his role. He then hired all of his friends, his girlfriend, his roommate, and together they embezzled thousands of dollars of student funds.

“I can’t believe they’re getting away with this,” JJ muttered. “Is there no oversight?”

“It’s always the same,” Emily replied. “Who’s going to oversee them? The college? They’re corrupt too.”

“This sucks,” Derek said. “Wish someone good would run for government, for once.”

Emily shook her head in frustration. It all just reminded her of her childhood. Embezzlement, corruption and nepotism all were casual topics discussed over family dinner in her home. She had higher hopes for students her own age, would they not break the cycle? Or was it just a microcosm of the outside world?

“You should run Mr. Lawyer Man,” Penelope teased Hotch. “You could take any of these clowns.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow at her and went back to his pizza, brushing her off. Emily smiled at him. Penelope was right, he might actually do a good job if he set his mind to it.

The people that surrounded her now were nothing like her mother’s friends—or the kids she had been forced to hang out with when she was younger—they were genuinely kind, supportive, and seemed to like Emily for Emily. When she told them she was an ambassador’s daughter, they had been more concerned with the cool places that she had been able to travel to than whatever power she had. At college, Emily finally exhaled fully, slowly relaxing more and more into herself.

But, the topic of politics always set her on edge, especially since the semester was ending soon. Her mother had already begun to leave her voicemails about the galas, fundraisers and events that she was required to attend over Christmas break. She pushed thoughts of the future aside and focused on the warmth that surrounded her. With some music playing softly (a song that JJ liked by Vampire Weekend), the softness of blankets under her, and JJ leaning on her slightly as she ate her dinner, Emily felt at peace. She knew she could handle winter break, because she knew that these friends would be here when she came back.

After years of leaving a school midway through the year only to show up to some new boarding school or international school each time her mom was reassigned, Emily never had a chance to put down roots. But, with each bite of pizza, Emily felt herself becoming even more firmly rooted. Not to this place, but to these people as their lives became more entwined.

Once dinner was over, the game continued, and thoughts of politics left their minds. By then, Emily narrowed it down to the weapon (the candlestick), two rooms (the kitchen and the billiard room) and she was pretty sure that it was Colonel Mustard that had committed the crime.

She had a decision to make: walk all the way from the study to the billiard room, or risk being wrong by making an accusation. She was pretty sure both Hotch and Reid were on the right track, as the younger boy’s scribbling in his notebook had gotten even more intense and the older boy was beginning to look around suspiciously, as if the others were trying to read his notes.

She had pretty much ruled out Penelope, JJ and Derek as competitors, as the trio spent most of the time talking, and genuinely trying to have fun. Emily, Reid and Hotch were all way too into it, but Emily was competitive and this was her game. She wasn’t going to lose to Hotch, no way. Reid winning she could blame on his boy-genius nature, but Emily decided that Hotch was going down.

The two boys seemed to have come to the same conclusion, all eyeing each other across the board, the tension palatable between them as their competition became heated.

She nervously tried to move to the billiards room, deciding to play it safe. Better safe than disqualified. But, as soon as she made that decision, she regretted it as Spencer straightened up on his turn and said: “I’d like to make my accusation.”

“Write it down,” JJ prompted, as per the rules. He jotted it down in his paper.

Then, with bated breath, they watched as he grabbed the envelope out of the centre of the board, and read the cards. His face fell when he saw one of the cards, so he must have been wrong. He placed them back into their envelope and back onto the board.

“No dice?” Emily asked.

He shook his head.

“Statistically speaking that should have been right,” he grumbled. “My math was wrong.”

“Boy genius isn’t a good detective, huh?” Penelope mused.

A few turns went by, with Derek, Penelope, and JJ moving around the board or making suggestions.

Emily rolled the dice, making one square from a room. She sighed. She’d make a suggestion next round.

On Hotch’s next turn, he made an accusation, which he wrote down on a pink sticky note that Penelope had handed out when the game started. He checked the envelope.

Emily held her breath. She was sure he had it and that the game was over. She should just call it quits now. She went to bite her nails out of stress, but stopped herself, they were starting to get long and she wanted them to look nice.

A moment passed as Hotch compared his cards. After he saw the third card in the envelope, his expression revealed that was also wrong.

Boys, Emily thought. Always so overconfident.

She made a suggestion instead of risking it: “Miss Scarlet—er myself I guess— in the Billiards Room with the pistol.”

It was a gamble. If she was right, and the people who knew she had her own card and the pistol caught on, they would also know that it was the Billiard Room, because no one would be able to disprove her theory. If she was wrong, someone would have the card for that room, and she would know that the crime occured in the Kitchen.

The second seemed to be true, as Derek showed her his card with a small illustrated image of the Billiard Room on it. She was right. She knew what it was. But, she would have to wait until her next turn. She was going to win.

But, it was she who was overconfident, because as she was too busy preemptively celebrating her win, Derek casually made his accusation.

“Hey I’m right!” he exclaimed, holding up the cards and his own hot pink sticky note.

In his semi-cursive scrawl read: “Colonel Mustard, Candlestick, Kitchen.” These guesses matched the cards hidden in the envelope, and Emily’s own deduction that she planned to make on her own turn.

“You guys really thought I hadn’t played this game before?” Derek laughed. “I’ve got two sisters, board games were everything.”

“Were you hustling us, Morgan?” Spencer demanded.

He smirked.

“Should’ve put money on the outcome,” Derek said with a laugh. “I’d be rich.”

Emily threw her cards onto the table in defeat. JJ shot her an empathetic look, and Emily tried to stuff her frustration down to pat her friend on the back for the surprising win. He deserved it.

———

After the game concluded and the pizza had been completely eaten, the group parted ways, heading to bed, or for more midnight snacks or to finish up some studying, leaving JJ and Emily alone and to start? a game of Scrabble.

The board was ancient, and quite a few letters were missing, but with music droning on JJ’s laptop, and the soft fairy lights overhead, neither girl minded too much.

Emily looked at her letters: O, B, S, O, T, B, W and thought hard, rearranging the wooden pieces to try and formulate a word. After a long day of academia, and investing so heavily into the game of Clue, she probably had only one or two working brain cells and both were telling her to play the word ‘boobs.’

Her eyes flicked to her girlfriend, who looked absolutely gorgeous in the warm light. Her blonde hair almost glowed, and she had an adorable expression on her face. Emily couldn’t help but glance lower, thinking about the real world examples of her Scrabble word.

She played the word with a cheeky grin.

“‘Boobs,’ Emily?” JJ scolded. “Really?”

She sounded angry, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at her cheeks and Emily could tell the girl found it funny.

“I can’t help it,” Emily said. “I haven’t thought of much else since last weekend.”

She raised and lowered her eyebrows in an exaggerated manner, making JJ laugh and kick her lightly in protest.

JJ then played the word ‘throw,’ using the ‘o’ from ‘boobs’ to form her word, earning her thirteen points.

“I don’t think you can throw boobs, babe,” Emily said. “They’re usually attached.”

JJ rolled her eyes.

Emily made it her mission to find the funniest words possible, working extra hard (and missing out on some good points) in an effort to make JJ laugh. ‘Armpit,’ ‘meaty,’ ‘hoagie,’ ‘urine,’ ‘joint’ and her piece de resistance: ‘boner.’ All while JJ was playing incredibly normal, and often strategic words like ‘axis,’ ‘snow,’ ‘vain,’ ‘snag’ and ‘writings,’ hitting multiple double- and triple word scores on the way.

“This is fun,” Emily said, sneaking a handful of JJ’s Cheetos out of the family-sized bag next to the blonde, while she was distracted by playing her turn.

“I don’t understand how you’re winning,” JJ muttered.

Emily shrugged, “Guess I’m just a genius.”

“Reid? Is that you?” JJ joked. “Why are you disguised as my girlfriend?”

“Would Reid do this?” Emily said, leaning over toward her girlfriend and pressing kisses all over her face until she fell back. Then Emily straddled her, their lips meeting in a passionate embrace that left both girls panting.

“I would hope not!” JJ exclaimed with a laugh, making a face at the thought.

They laughed and went back to making out, with Emily careful not to disturb the game pieces. JJ sucked onto Emily’s bottom lip, making her weak in the knees and she struggled to support herself over JJ’s shorter frame at the motion.

“We should-” Emily tried to say between kisses, “finish the game.”

JJ kept deepening the kiss, going so far as to grab onto Emily’s butt to hold her in place on top of her.

“You’re trying to distract me,” Emily chided, “because I’m winning! I see right through your plot.”

She sat up and went back to her tiles before playing another funny word: ‘suck’ for twenty points. JJ grumbled,fiddling with her own tiles, as Emily collected a few out of the bag.

Emily was preening as she rearranged her own tiles and didn’t notice as JJ put down her word. When she went to play her next word (‘zap’) and only then did she see what word JJ played.

‘Love.’

It was there. Clear as day. Written vertically and connected to the word ‘snow,’ it was unmistakable. Emily looked at it for a long moment, trying to figure out what it could possibly mean that her girlfriend very intentionally played such a loaded word. Was it the only word that fit? Did she only mean that she loved the snow? Was she also reading into it?

Emily looked up, making eye contact with JJ. The blonde blushed and looked away, nervously fiddling with the necklace around her neck. Emily smiled faintly at the warmth that flooded through her, but alongside that, was the sharp pang of anxiety. Was she supposed to acknowledge that? Would that make it weird?

‘Zap’ didn’t feel appropriate when her girlfriend may or may not have confessed her love for her.

She played it anyway, deciding that making a big deal of it would just complicate matters. Besides, did she love JJ? She didn’t know. It was all so new. She liked JJ a lot. She definitely like-liked her in the traditional sense of the world. But Emily had never been in love before. She’d loved people before, Matthew for one, and her mother in a way, and she loved Derek like a brother. But being in love was a whole ‘nother ball game.

JJ won the game after playing ‘equinox’ for twenty two points near the end, beating any lead Emily had gained from her silly words. JJ deserved it in the end, as the blonde would sit and stare at her letters until they formed the most complex words that Emily had never even heard of. Emily’s eyes drooped and she was barely able to create three letter words by the end, while JJ was still surprising her with her vocabulary.

Emily shook JJ’s hand to congratulate her for the win. JJ grinned and kissed her.

Then, they looked around and realized two things: it was past one in the morning and Penelope hadn’t come back to the room yet and that all of the blankets that JJ owned were currently being used in the blanket fort.

“Can we sleep in my bed, tonight?” Emily asked. “I’ll help you clean up in the morning.”

JJ nodded but was in the middle of texting Penelope, wondering where on earth her roommate had wandered off to. Within a minute she got back to JJ saying: with derek! will explain tmrw!! 😘 🧚‍♀️ 😳

JJ showed Emily the message and both girls giggled. Emily saw that coming, but didn’t realize it would be a game of Clue that finally sealed the deal.

Exhausted but happy and relaxed after the game night, Emily and JJ tumbled into Emily’s bed and cuddled up together. Between JJ and Emily, the word ‘love’ was left unsaid that night, but Emily fell asleep that night feeling a new warmth in her chest.

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atinybitofau · 5 years ago

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[ateez] Y U N H O ➽ mafia au

HE’S A BIG MAN AND WITH A BIG MAN COMES A BIG WORLD.

a/n: so I decided not to write a part 2 for Yunho’s. but it is version 2. I hope ya’ll like it.

• you had maybe one of the most brutally violent domestic relationships known to man and it definitely showed sometimes.

• you never looked for a way out either.

• cause you were tired.

• tired of living.

• tired of trying.

• you gave up a long time ago.

• “See that man over there? Be a doll and ask him for a cigarette, y/n.”

• your boyfriend brought you once again to a sketchy ass poker club to flaunt you like a trophy to his fat and ugly friends.

• it reeked of illegal activity.

• you couldn’t wait till one day someone either puts your boyfriend in jail,

• or puts a bullet in his head.

• you force a smile just glad you had an excuse to get his filthy hand off you.

• and refrain from screaming when he’s twisting your skin underneath the table.

• “Let me go get that cigarette for you, honey.” you seethe through gritted teeth.

• “Good girl.”

• you swallow down and limp over towards the man your boyfriend pointed to earlier.

• he looked tougher than your boyfriend.

• in fact, bigger in proportion.

• stunning— dashingly handsome.

• the cigarette between his lips didn’t hide his charming smile either.

• intimidating would be the first word to describe him.

• tempting would be the second.

• but you were more afraid of what he was rather than what you saw.

• because your boyfriend was bad enough as it is.

• you had no place in trying to eye fuck a hot stranger at one of his notorious hang outs at the least.

• “E-excuse me, sir.”

• Yunho fades a smile when he sees you.

• because he runs this place.

• he knows every face.

• all but yours that he definitely wouldn’t be able to forget.

• and unlike you, he takes the time to eyefuck you.

• cause he thinks you’re drop dead gorgeous.

• tiny compared to him and vulnerable.

• you smell as good as you look and he’s wondering if you taste that way too.

• but he has a gut feeling you aren’t just any girl that comes through his doors looking for some dirty money.

• no he has a gut clenching feeling that you were here for him.

• “Can I help you, sweet pea?”

• his friends glare over at him.

• because they know Jeong Yunho.

• he doesn’t talk to just anybody in his club.

• “U-um..” you’re nervously rubbing at your hands when the eyes at his booth are scanning you. “Can I have a cigarette please?”

• he wants to laugh.

• throw you around and slap you silly for asking him a question like that.

• but he doesn’t.

• he’s lost in your eyes, caving into your innocence like a predator to its prey.

• “Yunho.” a man beside him sits up with a hand in his blazer but the taller opposite pushes him down without moving his eyes from you.

• you melt under his gaze and you wonder what the lips around his cigarette tastes like.

• “What’s your name, sweat pea?”

• you gulp, “y-y/n.”

• your knees buck when he smirks

• watching as his tongue sets his lips.

• “Y/n..” he repeats before pulling out an unlit cigarette. “Here you go.”

• the people around him are stunned.

• you don’t know what’s going on.

• you don’t even know who he is.

• “T-thank you.”

• he knows it’s not for you.

• and watches you to see who it’s really for.

• he studies your body language.

• how you curl beside your boyfriend

• lips are frowned

• your spine is stiff.

• how the fear washes over your face.

• the bruises that fade on your skin.

• “Yunho, what are you thinking?”

• his friends know him too well.

• that he’s a sucker for the innocent.

• “I’m thinking that girl needs a real man.”

• he kills the cigarette in between his fingers.

• and he’s not stumbling when he storms towards the table.

• not planning to have that fucker leave his place without getting the customer service he really deserves.

• “How are ya’ll finding things tonight?” he smiles at your boyfriend as fake as can be when he asks.

• and he notices the little jump you made when he’s at your table.

• how your eyes sparkle when you look up at him.

• how those trembling lips change a little.

• you catch the cute wink he sends you and don’t question his intention.

• “Mediocre.” your abusive boyfriend replies. “You’d think a good place like this would have decent ass food.”

• you admit your boyfriend was too cocky for his own good.

• “Oh is that so?”

• Yunho knows EVERY face around here.

• and he knows neither you or your boyfriend know exactly who he is.

• “Let me see if I can help with that.”

• you don’t move when Yunho puts his large hand over your eyes and shields you into his arms

• he holds you against his chest as you cower at each shot taken

• somehow relieved that instead of being hurt—

• you were being protected.

• and the man who never failed to do the first was now laying limp at your feet

• “Sweet pea, I’m gonna carry you up. You think you can keep those pretty eyes shut for me?”

• his voice was low and calm.

• warm hands at your back as you curled against him.

• you keep your eyes shut.

• feeling safe in his arms despite the events.

• you don’t want to let go.

• you felt the safest you’ve ever been before.

• he smells like everything you want him to, too.

• scotch, leather, and cigarettes.

• “I think it’s safe to say that I’m not just a man with a cigarette, y/n. And you’re a little too comfortable with that.”

• he’s chuckling but it’s the most important thing to you.

• you think it’s something you’d fall in love with in the next 60 or so years of your life.

• “He give you these?”

• you shudder when his gentle fingers graze the bruises.

• the scars on your skin that build your insecurities.

• “I’m sorry, sweet pea.” he mumbles. “The world has been bad to you.”

• your hands fist at his shirts as he holds you steady on his lap.

• “You’ll never see a bad man like him ever again. Never gonna let a bad man touch you, okay? Are you fine with that, y/n? Will you let me protect you?”

• you hum.

• breathing in everything about him.

• and how the world was starting to give back the life you deserved.

• “Gonna give you the world. Gonna make the world so good to you, sweet pea. Gonna be the best man for you.”

• he brings you home that night—

• unlike most mafia members, Yunho liked to keep his personal life private.

• intimate.

• he knows you don’t want to let go of him

• even when you’re already inside the walls of your own home.

• “Please don’t go.. don’t leave me..”

• he thinks you smell like everything he’d ever want you to smell like.

• strawberries, vanilla

• and home.

• you smell like home.

• “He’s not gonna come back anymore. I promise.” you sigh when his lips hover yours to tell you.

• “I know.” you mumble. “But the world might take you. The world might take you away from me when I just got you.”

• he’s swooning.

• never wants to leave.

• never wants to let go.

• “I’m your world, sweet pea.”

• the only one that matters.

• “You don’t need to worry about the other one anymore.”

@atinybitofau

#ateez #yunho mafia au version 2 #ateez oneshot #ateez jeong yunho #ateez yunho #jeong yunho #yunho #ateez imagines #ateez preferences #ateez scenarios #ateez reactions #ateez reaction #yunho reactions #yunho scenarios #yunho imagines #yunho oneshot #yunho mafia au #ateez mafia au #mafia au

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halothenthehorns · 3 years ago

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All in the Family

Chapter 127: Out of the Fire

At first James thought the concussive, ear-splitting shrieking noise was coming from him. He knew he wanted to scream, but the air felt lodged in his throat now, because he couldn't see Sirius! Had he been vanished into an unknown abyss for dying in this future!?

They were in a very dark room and something massive was moving about, a sunset was forcing painful light into their eyes from cracks around the edges of heavy curtains only illuminating movement but no distinct shape. The rank smell of several unidentifiable things left him gasping and wheezing and he just kept flailing madly around, he wouldn't stop until he found him!

Something painfully tight latched onto his neck and forced him to bend over double, he shrieked in fury, trying to pull away and blindly going for his wand, but he couldn't find it! He must have dropped it when he landed-

"Prongs, stop, moving," Remus hissed in his ear with more stress than he ever would have believed him capable of, hand probably white-knuckled on his neck, he was holding so tight and suffocating him a bit, but it was obvious Moony didn't dare let up.

Heart still thudding, the maddening scene of Voldemort murdering his brother slowly ebbed from his eyes to really take in their surroundings.

Buckbeak finally began to calm now that all racket had deceased, but he was still clicking his beak in fury even as all of them edged as far away as they could bent double. He was standing much taller than usual, and James's eyes finally adjusted to see him perched on a bed. There was fresh hay and sawdust all around, plus a bag of dead rats sitting where the pillows should, leaning against a wooden frame like a mock bag of feed. There were deep scratches in the posts, ruining whatever design had once been inlaid, like Buckbeak often rubbed his sharp beak against it. The real problem of why he didn't go back to his meal came apparent when they saw all the blood around him wasn't from his food, but a deep cut in his front leg.

Sirius finally came into view, and James breathed in relief and tried to move towards him, but Remus kept him in the forced bow with bruising force as Padfoot began gently, "hey there buddy, wow that looks like a problem. I bet it hurts, how'd you manage that huh? Come here Buckbeak, come on, I promise I'll summon up whatever your favorite is if you let me have a look."

Maybe it was the gentle tone, maybe it was the familiarity of the person even if he was several years younger, in Remus's opinion it was just Sirius's innate ability to soothe anyone if he wanted to with that natural charisma when he unleashed it and nobody could resist. Regardless, Buckbeak finally folded his wings and made a pitiful cooing noise as he nudged his head against his shoulder and shuffled forward on three legs while Sirius kept up his inane chatter and carefully climbed up beside him, never moving to fast.

There were already some bandages and cotton balls waiting open and ready at the foot of the king sized bed, Sirius ruddy hoped someone was up here helping the poor thing out. He could now only wish it was himself though, it would be the most useful thing he'd ever done in his life at this point instead of- nope! He was doing it now, taking every care to keep chatting with the hippogriff as he cleaned the wound and wrapped it up tight. He didn't dare draw his wand to try anything else, these beasts were notoriously shy about magic in their presence.

The others began cautiously rising back to normal, and Buckbeak allowed it as Sirius began hand-feeding him from the bag of rats. His tail was still thrashing, binocular vision able to track everything on both sides of his head, but he remained at Sirius's side standing on the bed rather than trying to chase them off, which would do no good, he'd already seen Evans try the door out of the corner of his eye.

James tried edging forward, but Buckbeak spat a dead rat in his face, tearing up his bedding with his good claw as he heavily pawed the ground. Sirius reached up and pat his beak while catching James's eye with the most comforting smile he could offer. "Relax Prongs," his tone was still more honeyed than it had ever been speaking to his best mate, he usually reserved such a thing for teachers he was trying to flatter out of detention. It never worked on anyone but this hippogriff before. "I'm, I'm fine-"

He couldn't keep lying, his voice shook and his fingers began to tremble and the restless animal easily sensed his distress and began ruffling his feathers in unease. Sirius quieted himself and began running his hand along the gray feathers now, stopping to scratch in between the shoulder blades and the back of the neck, those hard-to-reach places that had him almost cooing with content and finally relaxing into him.

No, he was not fine. Of all the trouble he'd ever caused his friends, this was by far the most grievous one yet, now with Harry added to the mix! His godson, his poor godson forced to see this, live Voldemort's pleasure of murdering him! All because he couldn't do one stupid thing right and suck it up in this house. Perhaps he should take a page out of Wormtail's book and start distancing himself from them, give them all a break from his never ending catastrophes!

They watched in distress as Sirius worked himself up to a silent storm, he was clearly making the animal ill at ease as well no matter the affection given, so when Smith grabbed the book up off the ground and began reading, both startled badly yet again. Buckbeak threw his wings to their full extent and shrieked at her while Sirius flinched and had no time to duck, earning the retaliation of being thrown into the heavy curtains and sent them all on top of him, throwing the rest of the room into sharp relief.

Out of the Fire, into the frying pan, Remus finished in his head as he and James rushed forward to help untangle him while the powerful horse legs kicked wildly at the wall, sending a splintering noise in the very foundation while the bellowing shrieks began again.

Alice dropped the book and immediately bowed in apology, mildly appeasing the hippogriff enough he didn't lunge off the bed to attack her at least. He still didn't seem able to settle though, making a keening noise of longing and clicking his beak as he began pacing restlessly on the bed.

It was the most splendid thing in here. The midnight walls had silvery threads in the design up to the ceiling like veins that seemed to seep right down to the canopy that was torn to shreds, but the grandeur ended there. Regulus had only been in here once to even know such a thing was in his parents' room, otherwise it was unrecognizable as all of their things had vanished. They were forbidden from entering, but obviously that hadn't stopped Sirius's purge of the house, which of course made perfect sense why Sirius had put his ruddy pet up here.

His brother smiled, just a bit when his mates got him back on his feet and he realized the same of his own destruction. Regulus longed to throw at him it was doing shit like this why he brought so much of his own troubles on himself, he'd never really tried to make peace with mum and dad. Instead he seemed to go out of his way to do things they dislike just to complain that they hated him.

Regulus cringed at the idea of going back and attempting the same. He'd never be so blatant and in their face at it as his brother, but he didn't much like the idea of them shouting at him the way they did Sirius if he told them he had other plans for his life. He still longed for some kind of peaceful balance.

Potter and Lupin both seemed reluctant to let him back out of arm's length, but the creature refused to settle until Sirius got back on the bed with him and snapped dangerously at anyone who tried to join him. Sirius offered him another rodent carcass and waited until he'd gnashed away at it before nodding back at Smith with that calm aloof air once more he was so familiar with, it was impossible to tell what he was really thinking when he shut down like that, just how they were raised. Mother may actually be proud of him at that moment.

Now his idiot brother was going to die because he'd been in this house too long and refused to listen to anyone, but at least he'd have someone around to notice like Harry and Lupin. The shock of it all felt like an insulting blow to his world view. Sirius was going to be murdered for doing the opposite of what he'd done, was there really no right answer?

She began again in an attempt at a soothing tone like his, and though the bird head was tossed in agitation, he didn't throw his companion aside again but allowed the noise as it did him no harm and her voice was very soft, with fear. She read with dread of poor Harry's panic as he tore off for the Hospital Wing for McGonagall, who wasn't there. She'd been transferred to St. Mungo's.

Harry only had Snape to turn to for help, and that idea didn't seem to be occurring to him as his friends caught up and he had to explain the whole maddening concept to them.

Regulus listened with pity for Harry having to live through this, but something else was ebbing to the surface as he watched the Potter in here. Envy. Sirius kept looking to him, offering him that carefree smile as he kept patting at the beast and even winking at Lupin like this was some joke, making silly faces and even starting to hum a tune under his breath as he continued scratching at the animal, and when he wasn't doing that he was just the haughty Black heir. For all anyone could tell his godson was out having a picnic with him. It was a very good farce a lesser person would have fallen for.

Sirius didn't even look at him. Not to gloat this was the proper way to go against the Dark Lord, not to sneer and mock him for being up in this room he shouldn't be or even to have a laugh about it. He'd known for a very long time now James Potter was his brother's equal in a way he never could be, but this hadn't felt quite so insulting until this very moment where he clearly wasn't even going to be a passing blip as his brother was probably over there pondering what his last thoughts would be.

Frank had his hands on Alice's waist as she read, holding her close as her voice trembled for Harry's pain. They didn't even know Sirius, not really, they felt they had a better understanding of the man he'd become through Harry than the teenager who seemed so determined to ignore the proceedings.

Their aching sympathy though didn't dim their downright confusion at the circumstances. He caught Lily's eyes and saw the same confused expression as she watched him, Hermione's pertinent questions that had no effect on Harry had the three of them very worried something about this wasn't feeling right.

Sirius shouldn't have been leaving this home for this plan to be possible, but this was the same man who'd broken out of Azkaban, that part wasn't so unbelievable no matter who told him what. Why would You-Know-Who need him to get this weapon though? That was a very stumping question, and one they hoped they weren't privy to. If Harry dipped back into the other's mind and heard, the answer would give no relief to these transgressions.

Ron's answer was, plausible, but one look at Regulus didn't make it hold much weight. He'd been killed very soon after his entrance, it seemed laughable he'd even been in You-Know-Who's presence, let alone had some key of knowledge.

Ginny and Luna arriving stopped the impending argument, Harry was so desperate with anger by now that it was a miracle a plan was agreed by all to use Umbridge's fireplace to check this out.

The only one he spoke to for his troubles was Kreacher, laughing about the entire painful situation. Sirius really wasn't there, and now they may get a live version of hearing the great and mighty Black turn out like them if he was tortured while Harry was forced to watch. Neville now being in the very room with them nearly made reality splinter before their eyes.

Lily finally dragged her eyes off of James Potter's white face and buried her own away in her hands so she didn't have to see his reaction when Harry finally remembered Severus Snape was a member of the Order. She didn't even believe anymore he would have helped Harry, she didn't believe much of anything anymore. Here she was, nearly crying in sorrow for these two and only able to imagine her poor son losing someone again, and hating her best friend, what on Earth was this future? How could it be possible something like this could exist?

Something in her sparked traitorously as she looked back up when she heard him lying to Umbridge. Veritaserum was far from the only truth serum, and for him to pretend he wouldn't have any others was laughable. She turned mechanically back to Potter to see his silent screaming was still in full blast, but his wand was in Lupin's hand and he didn't even seem to care. Even the simple fact that he hadn't a reaction for Severus and only had eyes for his best friend felt right to her. If he'd gone about insulting him now, at a time like this, she'd know he was heartless. Instead she was now reasonably confident, almost hopeful again that Severus really was still in the Order for Dumbledore's secret reason rather than any plot of You-Know-Who's. Sev had no reason to lie to Umbridge and help Sirius anymore than he would Harry, but that's exactly what he was doing.

Harry seemed to miss this revelation, he watched his potions teacher go with the purest loathing once more, and she couldn't blame him, after everything Snape had done to her boy. She wrapped her arms around herself as if torn in two. Was this just another false wish then? She still wanted to see in him that childhood friend? It didn't excuse what he'd called her, but maybe if he really saved Sirius Black's life it would show he wanted to change...

Alice nearly shrieked and wanted to throw the book away from herself when Umbridge's next solution was to use the torture curse on Harry. Buckbeak was still no calmer in the heavy environment and glowered at her, but Sirius was quick to keep his attention, a murmuring promise of more spoils for him as soon as he could. He was starting to lose his composure though, they could all see the cracks now. He wasn't even looking at his best mate anymore, his fingers were trembling in the soft texture and his hair was covering most of his face.

The two had once been each other's salvation in escaping Hogwarts, Sirius fought the mad desire to try so now. Throw open that window and ride off into the sunset on the back of the hippogriff, maybe animals could come and go from this nightmare.

He knew he couldn't though, he felt like a coward for even thinking it. His friends might be better off without him, but damn it all, even Hermione was coming up with quite the story to Umbridge's face and got Harry out of that situation, the three of them heading off to the Forbidden Forest! If that girl, who hadn't even wanted to help him moments ago, thinking Harry was having some nightmare, could manage that, he'd suck it up and be there for them any way they wanted him.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #OotP #Marauders #Wolfstar #Jilly #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Regulus Black #Peter Pettigrew #Frank Longbottom #Alice Smith #Lily Evans

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ateezmakemeweep · 5 years ago

Photo

badboy!yeosang

word count: 18k

angst, fluff, smut

to this day, no one exactly knows what sparked the rivalry between the north side high school and south side high school. it seemed as if something that was just always present in the small town, with your parents and their parents and maybe even their parent's parents dealing with the tension had the two buildings been around back then.

whether it was between students personally, sports teams winning streaks, or academic scores, the two schools, centered in the same town only a few blocks away from one another, were always neck and neck. and it made socializing somewhat troublesome, always running into enemies and rivals you didn't even have a solid reason for disliking.

it was even more troublesome when brave students looked passed the silly, unknown rivalry, merging friend groups from north and south into one cohesive friend group. this isn't something you had ever done personally, sticking with the north side boys and girls you had known since elementary school.

but then one friday night party held at a friendly 'northerns' house changed everything, you and your friends walking in to see lots of unfamiliar faces.

"don't tell me she invited those scumbags," you friend bites harshly, immediately eyeing anyone and everyone she didn't recognize.

"of course she did, she's like best friend's with all of them," your other friend scoffs, eyes roaming for the host so she can ask her what the hell she was thinking inviting this many people.

"why does it even matter?" you ask quietly. because while you've never set out to make friends with people from the other school, you also wouldn't be opposed. because until someone gives you a reason to dislike them, you're not gonna base your opinion off a group of people on some nonsensical history of hate.

"you're joking, right?" you hear your friend's high pitched voice whine, "they're literal scum. they come to our parties and try to fight everyone! they trash their school and talk back to the teachers! they're delinquents! do you know how many people get kicked out of that school a year?"

you eye the entire bottle of vodka in her hand, knowing all too well she also has a stash of weed she stole from her sister in her backpack. "delinquents, huh?"

her eyes narrow at your sarcasm, pushing your arm lightly. "okay, sorry we're all not goody too shoes like you mrs. i would never drink or smoke," she says mockingly.

you can't help the smirk that crosses your face at her bitter, snappy tone until it quickly falls when you catch a familiar pair of eyes across the room.

"oh, fuck my life..."

your older brother (but barely, you're less than a year apart for gods sake) catches your gaze and nods his head at you. you can't help but laugh internally at the irony of your friend calling the south side students delinquents when that boy right there attends your school.

because you had never met a more problematic person, always ready to pick a fight or start drama for no other reason than he just loves the thrill of it. loves the repartee back and forth before an abrupt, chaotic brawl of fists and kicks sends people into a panic.

he even loved it when you were kids, always pulling your hair and littering you in bruises that left your skin covered purple and blue more often than not; but it only got worse as he got older - luckily he had learned to spare you and other females.

it had gotten to the point where your parents almost insist you now go to every party and outing he's at, hoping that he'll curb his behavior in front of his little sister.

but no such luck because only an hour into it and you see him eyeing a group of south side boys, making his way up to them causing all of their stances to immediately stiffen. everyone has shifted into slight defense, narrowed eyes and snarled lips and a part of you watches in hopes that it'll die down.

but then you see two boys push their way forward, standing toe to toe with your brother and his friend before you stomp over.

"changbin," you growl lowly, arms folded over your chest in an attempt to look threatening. but it only causes him to laugh slightly, the boys behind you falling silent at your arrival.

"what do you want, y/n?"

"don't talk to me like that," you snap. because he's notorious for being extra snippy with you in front of his friends, like he's cool for being mean to you when you're almost always there to babysit him.

"yeah, don't talk to her like that," one of the south side boys says mockingly. you don't even bother turning around to shoot him a dirty look, grabbing changbin roughly by the arm and over to the less crowded corner.

"what is your problem?" the boy laughs out, knocking into you playfully.

"what do you think my problem is?" you ask him dully. "i know you're trying to start shit with them."

"me? start shit?" he quips sarcastically, "never."

you roll your eyes, not at all amused by him. because it's a miracle you haven't gotten hit or punched yourself from the amount of times you've broken up one of his many fights. and he doesn't even see that that's an issue.

"changbin, i'm serious!" you tell him adamently, "if i have to split up another fight-"

"okay, well, who the hell said you have to do that in the first place?" he asks, the slightest hint of annoyance seeping into his tone.

"mom and dad will get mad at both of us," you spit, "especially dad. and i don't need that." because afterall, changbin's anger and love of fighting didn't just fall out of the sky.

"whatever," he says, "just stay out of it. i'll tell them you tried, how 'bout that? so they don't get mad at their perfect little daughter."

you narrow your eyes at him, swallowing down the desire to tell him to fuck off before he cockily saunters back over to his friends. you stand there and watch him for a few seconds, the boy who mocked you peering over at you. your eyes linger on each other for a few seconds, his curious gaze roaming your face and body before a smirk plays at his lips. you rip your eyes away, escaping the loud voices and tension-filled stares in the safety of the bathroom.

you don't even know why you come to these parties anymore. you never really had fun at them, being surrounded by your drunken classmates who make out right in front of you after swearing they'd never do it again. and anytime your brother was in attendance, it added a whole new level of irritation.

because why should you watch him and keep him from being an idiot? put yourself in danger to stop his stupid, childish outbursts? you grip the sink in frustration, peering at our own reflection and wanting to laugh at how unhinged you look.

you take a few deep breaths, flushing the toilet and letting the faucet run so it at least seemed as if you were using the bathroom and not on the verge of a mental breakdown.

and thank god you did because you take three steps before you're cornered by the mysterious mocking boy with curious eyes. he blocks your path with a smirk, arms crossed over his chest as his gaze pierces down at you.

you look up at him and raise your eyebrow when he doesn't speak, just stands there and holds your eye contact.

"can i help you?" you ask, not being able to hold back the irritation that drips in your tone.

"your boyfriend's a bit of a dick, huh?"

a look of confusion crosses your face causing his head to turn ever so slightly. you haven't had a boyfriend a day in your life but you're as hell not about the to tell this strange boy that. "what are you talking about?"

his neck cranes back and nods toward changbin who you see thankfully has gone back over to his corner before looking back at you. "changbin. i think that's what you said his name was?"

a gag leaves your mouth as you shake your head frantically. "oh god, no! that's- that's my brother."

"ah, your brother," he hums, like he's genuinely fascinated by that revelation. "so what, you hang around and make sure he doesn't get in trouble?"

the condescending way in which poses the question causes your eyes to narrow, now matching his stance with folded arms and an overall cold demeanor.

"yeah because trouble always seems to start when you people come around." and even though you hadn't believed it an hour ago, there's something about this boy that's making you incredibly defensive and annoyed.

a breathy chuckle leaves his mouth as he takes a step closer to you, your eyes widening slightly when your back hits the wall. he stares down at you with a dark look in his eye, the teasing glint the only thing not making you feel nervous.

"us people?" he hums lowly, "and what kind of people is that?"

"i don't know, i hear you guys start a lot of shit," you say boldly despite being trapped, "deliquents, was the word used. and i see there might be some truth to that."

"that's funny, babe, because your brother was the one who approached us," he says calmly.

you purse your lips to the side, breaking the incessant eye contact to search for your friends. but of course, both of them are already lip-locked with their newest prospects of the night and not at all concerned about your whereabouts; which they shouldn't be, you suppose, but you could really use some assistance right now.

his throat clearing above causes you to look up at him again, pushing yourself further back into the wall.

"well, if he starts something," you say, voice changing into something unnaturally soft and sweet, "can you guys just ignore him? please?"

an amused look crosses his face, a sarcastic smile on his pretty, red lips. "oh? please?" he hums, "so you're gonna be nice, now?"

an annoyed huff leaves your mouth, reluctantly bringing your hands to this stranger's chest and pushing him back. "no, i'll be leaving you now," you say and leave you do, not once turning around to look at him as you make your way over to the other side of the room.

he watches you take a bottle of water out of the cooler before plopping down on the couch, phone in hand as you tap the screen. it lights up your face in the dimly lit room and he hates to admit that you really are pretty, a girl he'd typically seek out at a party like this and hope to end up making out with. he hums curiously before making his way back to his friends, seonghwa's eyes catching his.

"who were you talking to?"

"that loser's sister," he says quietly which causes hongjoong's head to perk up. "sister?" him and seonghwa both say at the same time; they had all really assumed you were his girlfriend.

"yup," he says, looking up to see you haven't changed positions. "she's...feisty."

"yeosang..." seonghwa says warningly, knowing all too well how the boy uses his smoldering looks and unique charm to reel girl's in.

"what," he chuckles out, meeting his friend's gaze. "i didn't do anything."

"that doesn't mean you won't," seonghwa mumbles, shaking his head at the boy.

"you know me too well, hwa," he says, patting his arm roughly before he meets changbin's glare. "you know me too well."

tense gazes and snarls only heightened throughout the night, the north side boys shouting from across the room while the south side boys just stood around quietly, plotting and preparing for a phyical fight if it was going to come down to it.

and of course, it did. you had watched it all unfold, watched your brother's friends make the first move when they got wind that a south side boy by the name of jongho started talking to one of the girls.

she was there one minute, flirting and talking friendly before the boy slightly pushed her out of the way upon seeing them charge forward, screams of profanities in one another's faces that were far too dramatic for the circumstances.

it was all just a pissing contest really, each side of boys trying to prove who was tougher and cooler when really they both just looked like fools. but you suppose you were the biggest fool, watching changbin barrel his way through the crowd and getting in the face of the black-haired boy.

"so you're the little bitch, huh?" you hear his voice bite, shooting up from your spot on the couch immediately. "i really think you guys are forgetting-"

"changbin, stop," you say lowly, going up behind him to grab the back of his shirt. but it's like you're a ghost, he doesn't even feel your presence or touch, just continues to talk shit to the boy until he draws his arm back and punches him square in the face.

"changbin!" you shout over the crowd of oohs and ahhs, onlookers with their phones out and only a few other people trying to split it up. he gets in three more punches, loud cracks while his friend's fight off the other boys and try to help you in getting your brother away from him.

"get the fuck away from me, y/n," he growls, drawing his arm back to push you backwards. his hand meets your stomach probably a bit harsher than he intended, your body stumbling back causing you to nearly fall onto the glass table.

you watch in a daze as the boy you talked to before stomps his way over to changbin, gripping him by collar and picking him off his bloody friend.

"don't touch my friend or your sister like that," he growls, tightening his hold on the boy's shirt before pushing him away from them.

"how 'bout you don't tell me what-"

"stop!" you screech, grabbing him roughly by the arm and making your way toward the front door. "just stop already, changbin!"

you throw him down in the front seat of your car before promptly locking him in, telling him you're going to get your stuff and that he better not leave the car. you run back in to the chaos, the group of south side boys huddled around the injured boy you've gathered is jongho.

you grab your bag before making your way over, kneeling down to see the boy's blooded face.

"i'm so sorry about him," you tell him quietly, wincing as you see the blood trickle down to his mouth.

"just get away from us," one of them says.

"wooyoung, she didn't-"

"no, san, this is their fault," he growls, helping jongho to his feet and dapping at his face. you can only sigh, offering one last quiet apology before making your way back outside.

"i can't believe them, that crazy asshole," jongho snaps, eyeing himself in the mirror of hongjoong's basement apartment.

his parents had made the space for him when he started high school, first just to get him out of their hair and allow them a good night's rest away from his long nights of playing guitar or typing on his computer. but then it quickly transformed into basically housing the seven other boys, beds littered in the ample amount of rooms down there so the group of eight best friends could live together almost 24/7.

"we'll get them back," wooyoung says from the couch, leg still bouncing from the adrenaline. "they can't get away with this."

"his sister tried to apologize," san points out softly, bringing over band-aids and alcohol.

"that was just to save face," yeosang says near the open window, his lit cigarette hanging outside, "she was quick to call us out for being quote-unquote 'delinquents.'"

"oh jesus christ," hongjoong grumbles, "i mean seriously, what is their problem? we're all the same."

"he started it in the first place," mingi snaps before yunho adds, "exactly. and apparently, that kid fights everyone."

jongho hisses when seonghwa accidentally grazes the bruise on his face, all the boys heads snapping toward him with sympathy in their eyes. "well he's a little psycho who needs to be humbled," the bruised, bloody boy says.

yeosang listens to his friends conversation silently as he inhales the smoke, holding it and letting it burn as he tries to concoct a plan. because it'd be easy to get revenge on changbin himself, jump him at the next party with their fists and stomping feet the way they always do to people who deserve it.

but where's the fun in that when he has a feisty little sister who's already peeked his interest?

yeosang exhales, the smoke swirling out of the window before he puts the cigarette out in the dirt. "i have an idea," he says, the seven other boys turning their attention to the smirking boy with an all too familiar look in his eye.

ironically enough, your part-time job at a small bakery is where you find the most solace. there's no stress from annoying teachers or piles of schoolwork like at school or fighting parents and an obnoxious brother at home.

instead, it's just the fresh smell of pastries and bread, the occasional ding of the bell welcoming in customers and the soft hum of 50s music playing through the speakers. your boss is also the owner, a tiny but incredibly sweet woman who has yet to tell you her age but you have to assume is in her early 70s.

"thank you for coming!" you chirp happily, eyeing the little girl who you slipped in an extra chocolate chip cookie for, "enjoy!"

the mother and daughter walk out, your eyes following them as the little girl eagerly clings to her mom for the dessert. you smile softly before sighing, going over to wipe off the few tables by the front window.

you hum along to elvis presley's version of hound dog, bobbing your head side to side as you wipe down tables and push in chairs. your hips begin to wiggle slightly as the guitar solo starts and unbeknownst to you, someone had been watching you from the window; you hear the familiar ding of the door opening a few seconds later.

"i'll be with you in a second," you call out, wiping down the last table before turning around; your friendly, customer-service smile falls immediately upon seeing a familiar pair of teasing, brown eyes.

"hello again," he says, looking over your uniform that is a pastel pink apron with smiling cupcakes plastered over it. "how cute."

"what- what are you doing here?" you stutter out, standing a few feet away from him. he smirks upon hearing your nervousness, taking three steps closer to you so he can properly look at you.

"isn't it obvious? i'm looking for something... sweet," he says, the smirk crossing his face as he looks at you causing your eyes to roll. this guy can not be serious.

you ignore his stupid words, pushing passed him and behind the register to take his order. "then what can i get you?"

"hmm, well i don't know," his deep voice hums, looking over the glass counter before meeting your gaze. "what do you recommend?"

you bite your tongue, figuring a yelp review of 'the girl behind the register suggested a foot up the ass' would be bad for business; so you smile through gritted teeth as you tell him the chocolate mousse cake is a customer favorite.

"but what do you like?" he asks, propping his elbow on the counter and smiling cockily at you. because he really couldn't believe his luck, that he just happened to pass your workplace the day after the party. he figured it was gonna take time, having to wait to see you next weekend or ask around at school.

"i don't like sweets," is all you say. because it's not a lie. and if you did, you certainly wouldn't work at a bakery.

"not at all?" he asks.

"not at all."

"well then what would you recommend to someone healing from a fight?" he asks, "because, you know, my friend got pretty messed up last night."

your face falls upon the mention of the boy, your heart tugging a bit because you always feel bad for the people you have to pull your brother away from. and last night wasn't the first time someone has gotten mad at you for it.

"is he okay?" you ask quietly, the soft concerned way in which you ask almost making him think you're genuine.

"he'll be fine," is all he says before that flirty, conniving look is back on his face. "so c'mon, babe, help a guy out here."

you sharply inhale so you don't start yelling at him, thinking to yourself before picking up a small white box and tray. yeosang watches you move around the bakery with ease, opening the small blue fridge before turning on a chocolate fountain.

a few minutes later, you bring him a box with six chocolate-covered strawberries. "how's this?" you ask him, the sweet sarcasm dripping in your tone. he looks down at the fresh strawberries drizzled carefully in warm chocolate.

"now that is nice," he hums lowly.

"yeah, they're really good," you tell him, trying to act like he's any normal customer and not the boy from last night.

"oh?" he says, fumbling with the back of his jeans to grab his wallet. "i thought you didn't like sweets?"

"i don't but i like chocolate covered fruit," you mumble before telling him the price. he hands you a ten dollar bill, winking to keep the change before he turns to leave.

you almost let out a sigh of relief when he turns back around. "i don't think i ever got your name."

"that's because i didn't tell you," you snap sassily, his boyish chuckle filling the empty space.

"well, i'm yeosang," he says, walking back over to the register with his hand outstretched. you look down at it, ignoring the protruding veins and black rings adorned on his fingers, before your eyes meet again.

"that's nice."

his lips turn into a handsome smirk, licking his lips in a way that has your eyes quickly falling behind him to the people entering the store. "well, have a nice day, i hope you enjoy your-" you try to say when you meet his gaze again but he shakes his head.

"what's your name?"

"i have other customers," you mumble lowly, looking at him with wide eyes and a hot, fire growing in them.

"then i guess i'm just gonna have to call you babe," he says before his voice raises an octave. "it was nice seeing you again, babe! i hope to see you again ba-

"y/n," you snap, "my name's y/n."

"y/n," he repeats in his deep voice, letting it flow off his tongue. "that's pretty."

you narrow your eyes at him, eyeing the people behind him before he finally gets the hint. "i'll see you soon, y/n."

your eyes follow him out the door and catch his when he passes the window, smirking at you through the glass and throwing you a wink. he misses the sneer that crosses your face, letting out a sigh of relief when he's finally out of sight. you really hoping you won't be seeing him anytime soon.

much to your dismay, yeosang came in the next three saturdays. walking in with that stupid smirk on his face, clad in a leather jacket and boots making you shake your head at him.

"what are you doing here?" you asked again, similiar to the last week you had seen him. he had smiled slyly at you, insisting that the chocolate covered strawberries were so good, he couldn't help but get another batch.

"but this time, can i have ten?" you eye him wordlessly before drizzling ten strawberries, wrapping them nicely in a box for him.

"oh no, to stay," he says, "i was hoping you could help me eat them."

"excuse me?" you mutter. because he's more absurd than you thought if you really thinks you're gonna entertain his company and-

"eat them with me."

you looked at the boy in shock, shaking your head at his commanding tone as a scoff leaves your mouth.

"i'm working."

"you don't get a break?" he asks lowly.

"had it already," you respond, bending down to arrange the desserts you've fiddled with a hundred times already today.

"then eat with me later tonight."

your head nearly smacks into the display case in shock, eyebrows furrowed together before you jump up to see him with a serious expression.

"what?"

"go on a date with me."

a strangled laugh bubbles out of your mouth as you shake your head at him in bewilderment.

"and why on earth would i do that?" you ask him, "you don't even know me."

"but i want to," he says quietly, eyes roaming over your face in a way that makes you feel incredibly nervous. "and that's typically how people do it, right?"

you can only stare at him blankly, brain racing because where the hell did this come from? you barely know the kid, quite frankly find him rather irritating, and now he's here asking you on a date?

"i-i...why?"

"you....intrigue me," he says, "you follow around your asshole brother but you're actually a nice girl. you care about people even though you pretend to be all...feisty and jaded."

"wow, you got all that in our two meetings? impressive," you quip sarcastically, feeling far too exposed at his analysis. "and it probably isn't the best idea to call someone jaded when you're trying to ask them out on a date."

his laugh echoes through the pastel bakery, his eyes peering into yours with an unreadable expression. "see," he says, "and you make me laugh. i definitely wanna go on a date with you."

your eyes search his face for any hint of mockery or joking, very wary of this boy and the way he talks to you. because parts of you are screaming to go for it, that there's obviously something pulling you towards the boy just a little bit. that he gets you worked up and sometimes unable to meet his you gaze.

but you also barely know him and see behind his handsome smirk and piercing eyes that he's someone who could easily have you under his control.

so you're about to utter a no when a loud group of kids and adults come through the door, ripping you from his gaze and causing you to swallow the nervous lump in your throat.

"leave," you whisper to him before plastering on a smile, welcoming the new customers without a second glance back at yeosang who maybe finally got the hint when he retreats to the door.

but no such luck. because the saturday after that, he came in and ordered another ten strawberries to stay.

"i'm not gonna eat them with you," you mumble before the door behind you flies open, your little boss barely visible over the counter.

"y/n have you seen the- oh, hi, young man," she says to yeosang, a small smile on her face. he waves at her, a polite smile on his face that transforms him into a boy who looks like he belongs in church or on a school's debate team.

"hello. are you y/n's boss?" you hear him ask, causing your eyes to widen.

"why yes i am," she quips with a smile, patting you on the shoulder lovingly before she looks back at him. "why? she giving you trouble?"

"not at all, she's great," he says with a chuckle. "she even recommended the chocolate covered strawberries and they're delicious. but...i was kind of hoping to share them with her."

your eyes narrow at him, silently mouthing 'stop it' when a humming leaves the little old lady's mouth. "oh really? well, i don't believe she's taken her break yet. y/n, why don't you join him?"

"i took it before," you lie, keeping your cold gaze on yeosang so you miss the way the woman next to you is already trapped under his spell. the dejected smile on his face is what does her over, insisting you take a 20-minute break and share the delicious treats with him.

"i couldn't, mrs.-"

"you can and you will," she says before bringing her mouth to your ear. "or i will and i don't think he or my husband wants that."

you press yours lips together to surpress the laugh from bubbling out of your mouth, side eyeing her with an unsure expression as she quickly takes the apron off you. "go, go," she says, "i'll be on the register."

and so that's how you end up sitting across the table from yeosang, a box of strawberries between you both as you sit there with your arms crossed.

"are you happy now?" you ask him lowly, rolling your eyes as you watch him bite into the chocolate.

"very," he says, smirking when he sees you roll your eyes. "you know, i don't think i've given you a reason to dislike me so much."

you raise your eyebrow as your lips purse to the side, swallowing down the need to become defensive.

"oh no? this is the third saturday you've harassed me at work," you say, thinking about when he came in last week asking for samples, so many samples you ran out of spoons, before he just decided on the very dessert he's chowing down on now.

"visited," he gently corrects, biting his lip to hide his smile when an exasperated look crosses your face.

"okay, then what's it gonna take you for you to stop 'visiting' me? is this all you wanted?" you ask, gesturing between you both.

"no," he says, "i still want to go on a date with you."

you put your head in your hands frustratedly, rubbing over your eyes before looking right into his. and you can just tell from that, that he's not gonna be the type to let up. that he'll keep coming in every single saturday and spending $10 on fruit and chocolate until you agree.

so it's why you let out a sigh, pluck a strawberry from the box and bite into it before you grunt out "fine."

his eyebrows raise in surprise, tongue peeking out to lick over his lip. "really?"

"yes. one date," you say with finality, "and then you stop visiting me."

"deal," he says with a smirk before his eyes fall to your mouth. you swallow nervously at his gaze, watching his hand reach out before his thumb brushes over the corner of your lip.

he looks back at you, smirk still planted on his face when he sees the look on your face. "chocolate," he mumbles, "you work friday?"

you can only find it in yourself to nod your head, "till 8," you squeak out.

he smiles at you before standing up, pushing the box toward you before winking. "see you then," he says, waving goodbye to your boss who's been trying (but failing) to not make her staring too obvious.

you really, really hate to admit it but you were having fun. and that's saying a lot considering yeosang (and fine, maybe you too) just promptly got you guys kicked out of your date location. he had been outside your work place at 7:55, the loud tremble of his motorcycle whipping down the small street and alerting you of his arrival.

he walked in looking like the stereotypical bad boy, clad in usual leather but the singular pink rose in his hand a sharp contrast. your mouth dropped open in surprise, an awkwad giggle leaving your mouth because you hadn't expected that at all; in fact, you were half expecting him to forget all about it.

but you were really happy he didn't. you guys had a late dinner at a resturant a few blocks away, walking side-by-side in the cool night as you tell him about your shift and how long you've been working there.

he tells you that he lives with his seven friends in one of their basements, his boyish chuckle ringing in your ears over and over as he talks about them. he broke down your cold, slightly guarded exterior within the first hour and a half, now the both of you at an arcade as you try to beat each other at skee ball.

because you had been unbeatable at air hockey. at first, you both surely thought it was beginners luck but after four games, it really seemed as if it was you had a truly remarkable talent. one that he seems to have at skee ball.

"you're a cheater!" you squeal, hitting him in the arm playfully watching his ball swoop into the 10,000 points slot for the sixth time in a row.

"i'm not," he laughs out, looking down and smiling at the determination on your face as you stand in front of the board. you side-eye him before taking the ball in your hand, swinging your arm back and attempting to line it up directly with the top right side.

but just like every other time, it tips off the slot and clatters down to showcase a measly 1,000 points on the screen proudly. an annoyed groan leaves your mouth, the boy's chuckle next to you only making you look up in frustration.

"stop it," you whine. the pout on your face causes him to pop his neck nervously, a thought rushing to his mind to distract him before he quickly moves his eyes around the room.

"what're you doing?" you ask, watching his eyes roam suspiciously around the room.

"shh," he says, putting a finger to his lips before it twists into a smile. his arm wraps around your waist suddenly, causing a surprised squeal to leave your mouth when you feel your feet lift off the ground and onto the runway of the skee ball machine.

"yeosang!" you whisper-yell, like your figure standing tall in the machine isn't obvious enough.

"sh," he laughs out, placing a ball in your hand before tapping your hip. "go."

you look at him with wide eyes before they scan the room quickly, turning around and scurrying up the platform to throw the ball directly into the 10,000 point slot.

you run back with a smile, clapping your hands like you aren't the biggest cheater in this place and giggling when he plops you back down on the ground by your hips.

"there, we're even now," he says, looking at you with amusement in his light, brown eyes.

"so you were cheating!" you yelp, poking his chest lightly and feeling your heart stutter when his hand grabs it.

"no," he mumbles, "but i guess anything to keep you-"

"i saw that," a grouchy old worker tells you, her hair gray and thinning a sure sign this is the last place she wants to work. "do that again and you're out."

"sorry," you wince while yeosang begins to justify your actions. but you quickly elbow him, smiling politely at the lady before dragging him away from the skee ball machines.

"you weren't seriously gonna fight that lady," you say, voice laced with teasing and amusement.

"she interupted our date," he says lowly causing your eyes to roll as you lead him back toward the air hockey table. "it's annoying when people interrupt you when you're busy, huh? like at work, per se."

"oh shut up," he mumbles, squeezing his hand in yours that you had completely forgotten about. "because it doesn't seem like you'd mind now, hm?"

you rip your hand away quickly, mumbling "shut up" as heat rises to your cheeks. he grabs you again by the waist before you can leave, turning you in his hold to get a good look at the shy, flustered look on your face.

"look how pink you are," he says, hand grazing your cheek with a smile.

"stop it and let me go!" you squeak out, even more embarrassed as you wriggle in his hold.

"what if i don't want to?" he mumbles, words whispered as he brings his mouth to your ear. "what if i like seeing you a little flustered and blushing for me?"

you swallow down the lump that's quickly formed in your throat, giving yourself a few seconds to calm down and forget about his breath fanning over your skin before you push him away.

"then that's unfortunate for you," you snap, "now let's play."

his loud cackle booms through the noisy arcade, shaking his head before he confesses he let you win the whole time. you let out a scoff, the two of you arguing back and forth as you play which is what, you're convinced, led you to lose.

so you play four more games, all of them neck and neck until he easily scores the winning shot every single time. but the last game had really gotten to you, causing you in a fit of competetive rage to throw yourself on the table with a yelp of "no!"

he watches in amusement as your arm stretches to grab his puck, teasingly moving it back and forth in his hand as all of your internal organs slowly get crushed. you grumble pleas to "stop" and "give it to you" to which he smirks and promises he will one day.

and who comes around the corner at that moment other than the old lady from thirty minutes ago, narrowing her eyes at you guys before stomping over.

"i warned you," she spit, arms folded as she taps her foot at the both of you. "now get out."

you quickly scurry off the table and give her a small, apologetic smile. "i'm sorry, ma'am! i got too competitive! i promise it won't happen-"

"no. i said get out," she says roughly.

"but-"

"out!" she yells, her loud tone causing you to naturally jump back. you hit yeosang's hard body, his hand moving to squeeze your waist reassuringly.

"god, you're a bitch," he mumbles causing your eyes to widen.

"yeosang," you whisper.

her face twists into one of absolute rage, stomping over to you and going off about his lack of respect and asking if that's how his parents raised him.

"they told me to respect people who deserve it, not to respect people just because they're an old hag," he says, gripping your hand tightly and pulling you next to him. "you screaming in her face doesn't warrant shit."

he turns around when she starts to yell again, the both of you charging out of the arcade with a horrified look on your face.

"yeosang! i- you just called that woman an old hag! to her face!"

"and?" he says, interlacing your fingers as you scurry through the parking lot.

"that is....that was.... that was so mean!" you finally get out, covering your mouth with your hand as a shameful laugh bubbles out of it.

"oh yeah?" he quips, teasing in his tone as you stand in front of his motorcycle. "because you're laughing right now."

"stop, i can't help it," you giggle, biting your lip so a huge smile doesn't cross your face. "i guess that makes me as bad as you, right?"

his eyes roam your face, eyes full of a light and a giant smile that almost had him forgetting why he asked you out in the first place. why he has to keep up his acts of bringing you flowers and holding your hand and whispering in your ear.

why he's gently tucking your hair behind your ear, looking at you with the softest expression he can muster on his face.

"no," he mumbles into the cold air, "you're much better than me, y/n."

there's something about the way he says it that has your eyebrows knitting together, lips pursing to the side before you open your mouth to speak. but he's quick to place his black helmet on your head, snapping the buckle under your chin before revving up his motorcycle.

you sit on the back, your arms tightly wrapped around his abdomen as the wind whips past you and thoughts swarm in your head that maybe, if given the opportunity, you wouldn't mind going on a second date with him.

and lucky for you, many more opportunities came.

the next three weekends consist of dates with yeosang, fridays either going to new dinner spots or (disastrously) trying out rollerblading while on saturdays he came in to order his ten chocolate covered strawberries and waited around for the break you now save for his arrival.

tonight's date was at the movie theater, planning to see a horror movie despite your pleas to watch literally anything else. but yeosang was quick to snag you guys a seat in the back, guiding you in by the small of your back as he held the biggest tub of popcorn you'd ever seen.

the date started out normal, the two of you quietly chatting and laughing through the previews as your slightly greasy hands collided ever so often; he earned a small piece of popcorn being thrown at him when he commented on your butter fingers.

it was when the movie was about forty minutes in, proving to be as boring and slow as most horror movies were nowadays, that things took a turn. at first you thought nothing of it, his elbow hitting yours as he rested his arm on your armrest.

you tried to focus, keep your eyes on the screen and not turn to look at the boy you've really grown to like over this past month.

because while he was still a bit obnoxious and out of line sometimes, there was sometimes a glimmer in his soft eyes and smile that made your heart jump in your chest. and then towards the end of your days together, something else took over. a deeper, darker look that made your stomach tighten and palms sweat, his whispered words ghosting over your ear or the feel of his strong hands on your waist.

your focus wavers when you feel his hand fall to the top of your thigh, his pointer finger reaching down to graze your exposed skin ever so slightly. because you typically don't wear skirts but on your last dinner date, you had noticed yeosang's lingering gaze on your legs and you'd be lying if you said it didn't make feel happy and excited. (but, of course, if he had called you out on it, you'd insist you wore it because it was pretty and new).

you look down at it and bite your lip, turning to squint your eyes at him. but his are trained on the screen, an unreadable expression on his face like he can't feel your gaze penetrating his face.

you look back and swallow nervously, trying to ignore the feeling of his finger itching its way up your thigh slowly, almost painfully, like his skin is burning yours. he continues this for the next few minutes, dragging his finger up and down your thigh lightly before he suddenly palms it, squeezing lightly and causing you to harshly inhale.

"what-what are you doing?" you whisper to him lowly, his fingers resting on your inner thigh.

"nothing," he mumbles, but you can hear the smirk in his voice. "what are you doing?"

"i'm trying to watch this movie but you're-"

the distinct sound of someone shushing you from a few rows down causes you to stop talking, side-eyeing him but making no move to take his hand off your leg. and maybe that's cause every week, the desire's been creeping up on you. and now sitting here with him, in the dark, surrounded by a bunch of unsuspecting people, isn't exactly helping that feeling.

because would someone really notice if he-

you feel his fingers trail closer to the innermost part of your thigh, feeling a familiar searing sensation rip through your core causing you to grab his palm. at first he thinks he's fucked up, made you incredibly uncomfortable and drew a line that not even he would pass. but then he sees your heated gaze, your teeth sunken into your lip as your feet press into the floor.

"yeosang," you say warningly.

"y/n."

"what are you doing?" you repeat through your choked whisper.

"i'm bored, y/n," he whispers lowly before leaning closer to your ear. "and i've been wanting to play with this pretty pussy of yours for weeks now."

your mouth drops open at his words, a strangled laugh threatening to leave at his absurdity if the desire and clenching between your legs didn't completely overwhelm your entire being. so instead, a shaky exhale leaves your mouth as you squirm in your seat at the feel of wetness pooling.

"and you thought now would be the appropriate time?" you get out, voice strangled and clearly bothered but still with that underlying attitude it always seem to hold with him.

his breathy laugh fans over your ear, warm breath ghosting over your burning skin. "yeah," his deep voice mumbles out, "it's dark. and we're pretty spaced out." there were only a few other couples and groups in the movie theater, all of them near the front or middle.

"do you not want me to?" he asks, moving his hand out of your grasp to continue its assault on your inner thigh. "say the word and i'll take my hand away right now."

you meet his penetrative gaze, seduction and teasing in his brown eyes as a knowing smirk spreads over his lips.

it makes you absolutely hate that you can't say it, that your body is screaming to keep your mouth shut and not rob it of recieving any sort of relief. you only stare up into his cocky, teasy gaze, his tongue coming out to lick his lips when he sees the tightness in your glossy eyes.

"now let's see just how wet you are for me," he mumbles, your teeth digging into your own lip now so a tiny whine doesn't leave your mouth.

you attempt to control your ragged breathing when you feel his hand slip under your skirt, rubbing you slowly through your wet thong that causes quiet, synchronized curses to leave your mouths. him because he loves feeling just how much his touches effect you and you because his hands are finally on you.

"that's good, baby," he mumbles lowly, "you're doing really good for me. but i'm gonna need you to stay quiet, okay?"

your head lolls to the side, looking up at him and nodding before your eyes roll back when his hand moves your underwear to the side and his finger grazes over your clit. you whisper his name but it only causes his other hand to cover your mouth, slowly moving over you faster causing you to wriggle in the seat. your quiet moan is muffled by his hand and he smiles into the darkness, speeding up his finger's pace.

"you like this, pretty girl? does that feel good?"

too embarrassed to speak, your eyes shut as you welcome the pleasure his fingers are giving you. but then, like in some sick form of punishment for not acknowledging him, he pushes his finger into your dripping opening.

his eyes immediately widen when he feels just how tight you are around it, the tiny grimace on your face at the foreign feeling causing him to rip his hand out of your skirt.

"wait-are you a virgin?" he asks, his voice one of disbelief; he hadn't even considered that.

your eyes pop open as you nod your head, your lips turned into a pout at the feeling of being empty and wet. "why-why did you do that?"

the whine in your voice causes him to smirk, looking down at your legs where your skirt is rumpled at your thighs. "i thought i hurt you," he hums, "but you still want more?"

heat rushes to your cheeks as you nod your head, feeling like every bit of pride and dignity you had was momentarily stripped from you. but the sensation between your legs and dripping down your thighs is almost too much to handle.

"do you want my fingers in you?" he asks lowly, bringing the hand that was just inside you to your lips, his thumb threatening to slip between them. "or how 'bout my mouth? something tells me you probably taste-"

a jump scare in the movie seems to bring both of you back to your surroundings, remembering you're very much still in public and surrounded by people. so when your glossy eyes meet, your own full of arousal as his remain dark and teasing, he takes your hand and out the door to his motorcycle.

you both slip into his bedroom fifteen minutes later, your hand still in his as he slams the door shut and locks it. the ache between your legs hasn't even subsided a little; if anything, it only grew more with your body straddled over his motorcyle as you clung on to his hard stomach.

so you just about die when he pushes you back on the bed and falls to his knees, exposing your wet core when he drags your underwear down your quivering legs. you crane your neck up to see him already looking at you, a sinister smile on his face just as his hand disappers under your skirt again.

"you're still wet for me, right?" he asks, his tone almost condescending but proving to make your arousal grow stronger.

you nod your head, a strangled plea to touch you falling from your lips. you feel the breath from his laugh fan onto you, your eyes shutting as his finger barely grazes over you.

"just a few more seconds, baby," he teases, "you can wait, can't you?" and even though he's getting off on the fact that you're desperate for him, face pinched into one of frustration and arousal as you wriggle underneath him, he feels himself grow hard looking at your wet pussy.

"yeosang," you whine, bucking your hips up in hopes that it'll give you some relief. any relief. just something other than the borderline painful throbbing shooting through you. because it's bad enough that you're stripped here, half naked for a boy you couldn't stand but are begging to get you off.

and he must take pity on you because of that, his small chuckle followed by the sound of your loud, abrupt moan when his tongue swipes over your slit. your head falls back onto the mattress when he licks up to your clit, lapping over it skillfully as your hands start gripping the sheets.

you hadn't felt anything like this before, his tongue licking and sucking every part of you as his own content hums and moans vibrate against you. he hears your breathing turn ragged as you choke on moans, trying to surpress the urge to scream out when he slowly slips a finger in you.

"moan for me, baby, it's okay," he assures in his deep voice, "let me hear you."

and hear you he does, high-pitched moans and a mantra of his name over and over again as he drills his two fingers into your wetnes and eats you out like a man starved. you feel yourself on the brink of coming when he suddenly stops like some sort of sadist, your head shooting up to see him taking off his own jeans and underwear. and that's when you realize just how hard he is, his veiny cock springing from his boxers as he pants pool at his feet.

"i'm sorry, baby, it was about to fall off," he laughs out, the sounds of your moans and the taste of you getting to him. "you're gonna come on my tongue, don't worry."

but before he dives back in, you place your hand on his forehead and move back on the bed, guiding him up with your hand.

"what?" he asks, eyes narrowed as he tries to figure out what you want. but being this forward causes your cheeks to warm, suddenly consumed by an unsure feeling. because you've never done anything like this before. you have no idea what you're doing and here you are-

"hey, what happened?" he asks, noticing your slight change in demeanor. his hand rests on your cheek as he slips into that soft voice that makes your heart flutter.

"i just...don't you wanna come too?" you ask quietly, eyes nervously filtering around the room.

he smiles down at you, moving his thumb over your skin as he shakes his head. "i mean, of course i do," he laughs out, "but this was about you. i wasn't gonna...expect anything from you."

but then the unanimous decision that 69 would be best case scenario won, your warnings that you've never done this before and might be awful calmed by his assurance that as long as your pussy is in his mouth and your lips are wrapped around his cock, nothing could be that awful.

you take your time learning by listening to his reactions, licking around his tip and feeling him groan against you before you take him in your mouth. you bob your head up and down, spitting down him like he suggested and then finding a motion that only seemed to spur him on above.

his tongue dove into your opening with an eagerness that had you moaning against his cock, planting yourself harder on his face as he lapped up your wetness and played with your clit.

you came with a loud moan around his cock soon after, the vibrations causing him to buck his hips further into your mouth and making you to gag. he was quick to pull you off him and lay you down, placing a kiss on your sweaty head before taking his own dick in his hand and jerking off until he released onto your stomach.

you'd probably be a little disgusted by the sight of his semen if you weren't so blissed out, eyes heavy and heart racing as you lay there in a post orgasm daze. after cleaning you and himself up, he lays down beside you and smiles seeing you in your tired state.

"how was that, baby?" he hums lowly. already exposed and vulnerable, you roll over to rest your head on his chest, mumbling something that sounds like a mix of "so good" and "amazing" into his skin.

he chuckles before pulling the blanket up and around you both, his hand running through your sweaty, slighty-knotted hair until he hears your steady, even breaths of sleep. he lays there for a few moments and allows himself this bliss. the bliss he absolutely doesn't deserve. somewhere deep inside his chest reminding him, screaming at him in guilt and horror.

he rips himself away from you and pulls on a pair of sweatpants before quietly leaving the room, being met with the disappointed faces of san and hongjoong who were mindlessly watching tv.

"hey," he says quietly, padding his way over and plopping down on the couch. it's no secret they had gotten a good idea of what just happened, hearing the muffled moans and calls of yeosang's name.

it's a few minutes of tense, slightly awkward silence until san breaks it.

"you went too far, yeosang," his friend says, shaking his head as he looks at the bedroom door.

"what're you talking about?" he asks, the sinking feeling in his heart and stomach proving he knows exactly what the boy's talking about.

yeosang watches the smoke swirl out of the window as he puts his cigarette out in the dirt. "i have an idea," he says, the seven other boys turning their attention to the smirking boy with an all too familiar look in his eye.

"oh god, i know that look," san says cautiously, "what sadistic shit did your brain just conjure up?"

"not sadistic," yeosang assures, placing his arm on the back of the couch. "rather juvenile. but i think it'd work a lot better than the alternative."

jongho's eyebrow raises, dapping at his face with antiseptic cream as he looks in the mirror. "what're you going on about?"

"i figured we have two options," he explains, going over his plan that, of course, they could go after changbin. punch and kick and fight him until his face looks ten times worse than jongho's.

but why not target someone he loves? someone that he finds himself responsible for, no matter how poorly he may treat them. someone that peeked his interest just enough for him to devise this sort of twisted plan: get to know you, date you, 'fall in love' with you just for him to end things in the name of changbin and his hatred toward him and his friends.

"you're not honestly considering this," san says to yeosang when he's done talking, "you can't play with someone's heart like that! that's fucked up, even for you."

"it's perfect!" wooyoung says, ignoring san's words as he claps his hands together. "jevenile, you're right. but perfect. nothing like using someone's sister for revenge. ooooh do you know how pissed he'll be too when he finds out his own sister is dating you, of all people?"

the boys look at each other warily, parts of them thinking it'll be harmless fun while others are thinking this could quite possibly be their friend's worst idea yet.

"i'm with san, i don't like it either," hongjoong says, "she was nice to us and apologized. i dont't think she deserves to be dragged into this."

"she dragged herself in when she inserted herself into her brother's fights," wooyoung says, not being able to get passed his anger and bitterness at watching jongho getting injured. "she also probably thinks of us the same way he does."

the boys bicker back and forth about the plan, yeosang remaining silent as he toys with the cigarette in his pocket. but hongjoong can see the boy has already made up his mind, that he's narrowed himself in on you and plans to carry out whatever else he's concocted in that brain of his.

"he's gonna do whatever he wants, guys," hongjoong says, halting the boy's voices as he looks at yeosang. "whatever we say isn't even gonna matter, is it?"

"probably not," he says with a smirk because his friend really does know him well. "besides, she was a fiesty little thing. she might end up being more trouble than she's worth."

"you said date her, not bring her to the house and fuck her," san spits angrily, not at all liking how this little plan of his is playing out.

"i didn't fuck her, she's a- she hasn't done that before."

hongjoong and san's eyes widen, the latter boy running a hand through his hair in frustration; that makes everything worse.

"yeosang..." hongjoong says warningly.

"i know what i'm doing," he snaps, "jeez, it's not that big of a deal."

"not that big of a deal?" san says, voice raising as he shakes his head. "you're using her to get back at her asshole of a brother! how is that not-"

"shut the fuck up, san," yeosang growls lowly, shooting up from the couch and over to his friend, "she's sleeping."

"maybe i should wake her up then," san says, standing up and going over to the boy, "let her know what an asshole you're being right now and tell her the truth."

"like you being a little bitch is any better," yeosang spits, "you don't even know the whole truth so stop rubbing your mouth." hongjoong sees the exact moment san considers punching him in the face, his small fists bawled before he jumps up and throws his body between the two boys.

"stop. both of you."

and because hongjoong's word is final, the two boys stare at one another before yeosang scoffs. he makes it a point to bump into san's shoulder roughly, pretending that the angry brewing in him is aimed at the boy and not himself.

a feeling of deja vu hits you when you walk into your classmate's house and your eyes collide with yeosang, a small smile on your face as he nods his head at you.

you guys have been seeing each other for a little over two months now, texting when you can during the week and spending every friday and saturday together. it was concerning how fast you let your guard down with him and it only proved to deepen your feelings, both your emotional nd physical bond getting stronger and stronger everyday.

it's why you guys can barely keep your eyes off each other, gazes meeting and smiles spreading across your face before you nervously look away or get called out by your friend.

"why does he keep smiling at you?" your friend asks.

"yeah," the other girl goes, "you keep looking at him too! do you guys know each other?"

you can only nod your head, informing them that he sometimes comes into your bakery since it's technically not a lie, afterall. they look at him with a grimace before rolling their eyes, dragging you away so you're out of his view. "we can't have you associating with him," they said.

so you could only imagine how surprised they were when an hour later, you waltzed right up to yeosang and placed a kiss on his cheek.

"finally," he mumbles in your ear, resting his hand on your hip and squeezing it lightly. "i've been waiting for you."

"they kept ushering me away," you tell him over the blaring music, "didn't want me around a bunch of deliquents."

you suddenly hear a loud deep voice booming the words to the song, turning around to see yeosang's two large friends dropping their asses to the floor.

"a elle le gusta la gasolina!" the red-haired one sings, beer in the air shortly followed by the other's "dame mas gasolina!"

you can't help but burst out laughing, snapping your head to yeosang who watches them with a blank expression. "yeah, cause that's what are. deliquents," he says dryly.

you hadn't really gotten to know his friends very well, just exchanged polite hi's and bye's when you happen to see them when you visit their house. they all seemed nice enough, though you did find it strange that none of them could really look you in the eye. you figured it was because of changbin's antics, who you made sure to apologize again for when you saw jongho.

"they're good," you comment, giggling when the one yeosang introduced as yunho winks playfully at you.

he drags you in front of him by your hip, pushing your body back into his crotch and causing your eyes to widen. what the hell is he- "but i'm sure you're better," he hums in your ear, moving his body against yours ever so slightly and causing you to snort.

"stop it," you giggle, pushing yourself back into him harshly. "i went my whole high school career not grinding at a sleazy party and i'd like to keep it that way."

he turns you in his hold so your chests are flush against one another, his arms wrapped around your waist as you splay your fingers across his chest.

"i thought that was because you never had anyone to grind with," he mumbles in your ear, smiling into your hair when he hears you scoff.

"not technically, no.... but i probably could've if i wanted to," you whine, cheeks warming as he calls out your lack of experience.

"but you didn't," he says, voice dropped the way it always is when you're behind his closed bedroom door. "and now you have me."

you crane your neck back to look at him, eyes wide and curious as you bite your lip to hide your smile. because you suppose this is the closest you two have come to putting an official title on whatever you two have been doing. going on dates and holding hands and fumbling under his warm comforter while you swallow each other's moans.

"oh...really?" you squeak and your voice sounds so hopeful and happy that it makes his heart tug for more than one reason. but he smiles through it, pecks a kiss right onto your lips in front of everyone.

"of course, baby," he chuckles out, "what'd you think we were doing?"

"i don't know," you blush again, a shy smile making it's way on your face. "i don't know the proper procedure."

"proper procedure?" he asks, raising an eyebrow teasingly causing you to giggle into your palm and smack his chest lightly.

"stop making fun of me!"

"i'm sorry, you're just so cute," he says, reaching his hand up to pinch your cheek causing your nose to scrunch in distaste. but then his voice drops again, eyes falling to the lips as a sinister, teasing smirk crosses his face. "even when you're gagging on my cock, you're still so-"

"what. the. fuck," you hear a familiar voice behind you, jumping around with flushed cheeks and wide eyes to see changbin staring at the both of you with fire in his eyes. at yeosang's hands on your hips and your bodies pressed flush against each other.

you can only stare blankly, eyes wide and mouth agape because how the hell could you have forgotten your brother was here? and now he's so angry looking at the both of you comfortably pressed up against one another, the familiar twinge of anxiety and nervousness creeping it's way into your bones when you're around a pissed off changbin ready to fight.

"changbin, if you would just-"

"get your hands off her. now," your brother demands, jaw clenched and body advancing forward like he's about to snatch you out of yeosang's arms. but the boy's quick to turn you around, angle your body to the side to ensure no one's taking you away from him.

"i don't think i will," yeosang says cooly, evenly, like an eerie calmness before a storm.

"you're really out of your fucking mi-"

"she's my girl and brother or not, you won't tell me what to do," yeosang snaps, watching his jaw tick and face turn to one of absolute rage. "especially when you're so angry."

"your gir- y/n, you're dating him? what the fuck is wrong with you!" he screams, the people around you falling silent as they side-eye you.

"don't yell at me, changbin, it's none of your business," you snap, trying to get yourself out of yeosang's hold.

"how do you figure, little sister," he spits sarcastically, "you're making us look so stupid, don't you know that? you look like the biggest idiot."

"i suggest you shut your fucking mouth," yeosang growls, watching as changbin's harsh gaze turns from you to him.

"what, you're too big a pussy to go after me so you target my sister?" he asks. you feel yeosang's hold let go out of you and advance toward your brother who's collar is quickly grabbed again.

"what gave you the impression i'm a pussy?" he asks, tightening his hold on his shirt and turning his neck to the side. "like i won't fuck you up right now."

"then do it and see what happens, see how fast my sister leaves you," changbin snaps before smikring, "not like you really give a shit about her anyway, right?"

one of yeosang's friends, sporting soft brown eyes and a dimply smiles tries to guide you away from them when he sees you watching them in a panic. but you're quick to jump in the middle of them, pull yeosang back by the shirt who immediately releases your brother when he feels your touch.

and because you know your brother, you're quick to jump around to the middle and drag him out the door into the cold, outside air.

"what is your problem?!" you ask, voice raising and threatning to wobble. "why do you always have to start shit?"

"you can't be serious, y/n. you really can't be that fucking stupid!"

your face drops when as he yells harshly in your face, pressing your lips into one another so you don't scream or cry. but it doesn't stop your brother from shaking his head and continuing to give you a reality check. because he's a boy, a mean one at that, and it's abundantly clear to him what yeosang is doing.

"he's using you to get back at me, y/n. for punching his little coconut head friend," he says, your eyes narrowing at his petty insult. "how do you not see that?"

"you're so full of yourself, changbin," you spit, in disbelief that someone could actually have an ego this inflated. because it's bad enough your own parents make you surround your weekend with his nonsense but now he really has the balls to think he's able to have that effect on other people as well? that the only reason a boy would talk and interact and show an interest in you was because of him?

"maybe he just likes me for me. would that be so hard to believe?"

but he only rolls his eyes at your dramatics, letting out a scoff as he shakes his head at you. "whatever, y/n. just don't come crying to me when you discover i was right." he pushes passed you and disappears back into the house, the door slamming behind him and causing you to exhale shakily.

you plop down on the steps and put your head in your hands, frustrated and hurt and annoyed at him; changbin's never been there for you ever. you can't think of a time he was ever nice to you or stuck up for you, not when people used to bully you at school or when your parents on the daily yell at you for nonsense.

and now the one time you finally get a boy that likes you, he can't even do the big brother thing and be happy for you. he has to assume the worse case scenario and make everything about him.

you sit there in the cold for a few minutes, rubbing over your pounding temples and shivering when a cold breeze tickles your skin. you hear the door open behind you, moving down a step with a small apology until yeosang is crouched down below you. a small smile appears on his face upon seeing your red, cold cheeks.

"it's cold out here, babe," he mumbles, placing his warm hands on your cheeks causing your eyes to drop into your lap.

"i-i don't wanna go back in there," you tell him quietly, for some reason feeling embarrassed that changbin made those accusations about him. "i just can't believe him," you mumble, "he's such an asshole. how could he say that-"

"it's okay," he grunts out, voice tight and strained and you imagine it's because another harsh whip of wind hits you both in the face. "he doesn't matter."

you look up at him, heart and stomach fluttering when you see something twinged in his brown eyes that you've never seen before. it's an emotion you can't quite pinpoint, his eyes roaming your face as his thumbs gently start to stroke your cheeks.

"how 'bout we just go?" he says softly, "we can go back to my room and just hang out. or i can bring you home." but you're quick to shake your head, a small shy smile when you tell him you wanna stay with him.

so he pecks your cheek, interlaces your fingers and drags you over to his motorcycle. he plops his helmet on your head the way he always does, snapping it under your chin before bringing your arms around his waist.

you spend the night in his bed, feet tangled as you talk and giggle and kiss until he slips his fingers between your legs and moans ring throughout his room.

the knot in yeosang's stomach only grew over the past two weeks, changbin's words and the way he couldn't even assure you that they weren't true eating him alive. because he'll admit it started that way, he didn't have any intention of actually coming to have feelings for you. but ever since that night, he can't stop wracking his brain over how wrong he's been. how stupid and mean and childish the idea was in the first place and that now maybe he deserves all the guilt and anxiety ridding his body.

because it didn't take him long to realize he geninely loves your company, loves the way you smile at him and laugh and chastise him when he gets a little too out of line. and if all of that didn't make it clear to him that you were the real deal for him, seeing you with tears in your eyes outside of the bakery surely did the trick.

he had come to pick you up for your friday night date when he saw you and an older man talking animately to each other, both your faces pinched in anger though yours hold the slightest hint of fear and frustration.

"because i have plans with my friend, dad!" you screech, resisting the urge to stomp your foot. and to anyone else walking by, it would look like you were a bratty teenage girl disobeying your father. "why should i have to go and babysit him? he's a 17-year-old boy!"

"really, y/n," he spats, his eyes burning into yours and you know it's taking everything in him to not put his fist through the glass window. "i give you everything you could possibly need and you can't do this one thing for me?"

you resist the urge to roll your eyes because that's always his line. throwing it in your face that he provides you with food and shelter and clothing when really, that's what he signed up for when he decided to have kids. because you work this job for your own money, never asking him for a cent and even offering to pay for your own phone bill.

"because it's not fair," you whine, "i should be able to do my own things without having to follow my older brother around. i don't understand why you even enable this be-"

"who do you think you're talking to!" he shouts, your body retracting at the sound as a squeal leaves your mouth. "you should just do the things i tell you to do."

"well why can't changbin do things you tell him! like not to get into fights like a child."

yeosang listens from across the street, his legs itching to go over and help you but thinking it might do more harm than good. but once he sees the familiar twitch of your dad's hand moving up, more shouts leaving his mouth, he's quick to rev his motorcycle.

your head snaps to the side, looking at the boy's figure covered by his black helmet and tears spring to your eyes because you just wanna be with him, far away from your dad and brother and family who do nothing but harass you.

"i don't know what's gotten into you but-"

"i left my sweatshirt inside," you suddenly snap, "and my friend's gonna be here soon. i'm not going, dad. i'm done watching over your grown son."

and with that, shoulders flinching up to your ears because there's a 50% chance you're about to get smacked, you pull open the door to the bakery and wait behind the register until you see your father stomp towards his car. you shakily exhale, grasping the counter to reign yourself in. you're happy you were able to stand up for yourself, finally tell your father just how absurd it is that he's been making you enable changbin's behavior; but that doesn't mean it had been easy.

because that was only half the battle, now you'll have to deal with more backlash from him and your mom and maybe even changbin himself if he ever decides to talk to you again.

and the thought of having to do that sends you into a nervous panic, not wanting to deal with the hostile environment and the fighting and the-

the ding of the bell rips you from your frazzled, panicked thoughts, your mouth opening to stutter out an apology that you're closed until your glossy eyes meet yeosang's. a small smile rests on his face as he makes his way up to the counter, tucking your hair behind your ear gently.

"am i still able to get chocolate-covered strawberries?" he asks, his eyes and tone teasing, "i know you're closing but have a date tonight and i really think she'd like them."

a small, half-hearted giggle leaves your mouth as you nod your head getting ready to grab a box and tray before his arm reaches out and grabs your wrist. "hey, i was kidding," he says softly with warm, brown eyes to match.

"oh," you squeak, your cheeks warming at the way he's looking at you. "sorry."

his eyes narrow at you, tongue poking out to swipe across his lip contemplatively. "c'mere," he suddenly mumbles, fingers moving in a curved motion. you raise your eyebrow but obey nonetheless, walking out from around the counter before his arms reach out and wrap around you in a hug.

you close your eyes the second your head hits his chest, letting out a sigh of relief you didn't realize you needed when his arms close around your body and he hums lowly in your ear. "what happened?"

tears prick your eyes as you think back to the encounter with your dad, swallowing the lump in your throat and basking in the familiar scent of cigarettes and cologne. his hand toys with the end strands of your hair, patiently waiting for you to answer until he hears your breathing start to labor.

"y/n?" he mumbles, pulling back to take your face in his hands. you watch his expression fall as his eyes roam over your face, the concern laced in them causing your lip to tremble.

"please don't cry," he begs, his stomach plummeting when he reaches up to wipe a stray tear that's escaped your eye.

"i'm sorry," you say, voice breaking as you shake your head. "i'm just so... frustrated."

"was that your dad?"

"yes," you grunt out, sadness and frustration quickly being replaced by anger at the mere mention of him. "he wanted me to go out with changbin and got mad when i said i had other plans. why-why should i have to do that, yeosang?" you yelp, tears still gathering but voice getting louder and more exasperated. "he's a grown man! they completely enable the behavior and then they yell at me like i'm the asshole here."

"i know," he says softly, rubbing his hand over your hair soothingly. "it's really not fa-"

"you're right, it's not fair!" you interupt in your heat of passion and venting, "because then i feel bad and now when i go back home, the house is gonna be tense and awkward and oh, my god i'm gonna-"

his lips on yours stop the words from leaving your mouth, his arm tightning around your waist as he pushes you back into the counter. you meet his kiss with fevor, parting your lips and allowing his tongue to slip in your mouth. you moan at the intrusion, bringing your hands to the back of his head and pulling on the honey blonde strands of his hair.

your mouths break apart as he rests his forehead on yours, looking into your wide, glossy eyes. "i'm sorry," he mumbles, "but you needed to-"

"shut up," you say, jumping up on the counter and pulling him back down to your lips. he chuckles into the kiss, his arms wrapping around your neck as he pulls you closer to him. desire builds between your legs the more you kiss, his tongue slipping easily into your mouth and groaning when your own meets his.

he lets it slide the first time, knowing you're in a pissed off state but when you do it three more times, he's quick to pull away. his hand follows to your throat, wrapping around it and causing your eyes to widen.

"careful, baby," he mumbles lowly, his thumb rubbing over your rapid pulse point. "i know you're troubled but remember who's in charge here, hm?"

and at that point, you're almost sure you're gonna let him fuck you on the counter you work at every weekend. but the small part of your brain not completely absorbed by desire and lust screams at you about how unsanitary that is, how you can't allow your little boss's business to succumb to a place you lose your virginity.

"can we- can we go back to your place?"

he pulls back to look at you, hand still wrapped around your neck as he sees the growing desire and fire in your eyes that match his. but he had every intention of bringing you out on a real date, to dinner and maybe another movie that wouldn't end with his hand under your skirt.

"i thought maybe we'd go to dinner or-"

"no," you whine, shaking your head as you feel your thighs clench together. "i wanna go to your house."

his eyebrow raises, trying to calm down the excitement brewing in his lower half. because after everything that's happened, he thinks this might be the worst possible thing to do.

but he's aware of his geuine feelings for you, knows since the first date ended that his stupid little plan was never gonna be a thing and that what he feels for you is real.

so that's why he does what you ask and brings you to his house, locking the door to his room and stripping you down before licking up the arousal between your legs and planting his mouth on your clit. he slides two fingers in with ease, curling them up and relishing in the way you scream out his name.

"more," you begged, hands pulling and twisting and tugging at his hair so hard he's almost sure it's about to fall out.

"you want a third?" he mumbles from between your legs, "can your tight little pussy take that?"

"no, your cock," you say and the words falling from your mouth cause his already aching dick to grow harder. because you've always been so compliant, only moans of yes or his name echoing through his room.

"baby..." he says warningly. because no matter how hard he is, he knows it's your first time. and a part of him feels like it isn't right, given the day you've had.

"yeosang, please," you beg, on the verge of tears again by how wrecked and aroused you feel. "i'm-i'm ready."

he abandons his spot between your legs to lean over you, his face over your flushed one as he stares straight into your glossy eyes. "baby, i want too. believe me, i do," he says, bringing his hand into you hair again. "but i think after everything, maybe we shouldn't- i don't wanna-"

in a lust-induced daze, you take his hand and put it between your legs letting him feel just how wet and ready you are for him. "i'm ready and i need you," you whine, moving your hips so your pussy drags against his hand. "i need you to fuck me."

he swallows down the lump in his throat, never once feeling his cock ache the way it did upon hearing you say that. his takes your jaw between his hand, squeezing ever so slightly so your faces are nearly pressed together.

"you sure?" he asks, watching your face as he slips a finger back into you. you moan out at the feeling, your legs shaking as you spread them further.

"yes," you say, repeating the words over and over until he silences you with his lips. he kisses you as he aligns himself between your legs, rubbing his tip against your slit teasingly and chuckling when you pull your lips away to whine his name.

"alright, baby, it might sting, okay?"

but you're pleasantly surprised when you don't feel much pain at all. he's slow and inches his way in further and further until your walls adjust around his length, only the first two thrusts rather uncomfortable until the third smacks you with a feeling of finally.

your moans ring out over and over, his hard length moving in and out of you causing your eyes to roll back. yeosang has to control himself from not busting right away, your tight clenching and fucked out expression nearly bringing him over the edge everytime he looked at you.

"how's that feel, baby?" he grunts out, voice deep and guttural. but you can only moan in response, moving your hips to meet his steady thrusts. "do you know how happy it makes me to know i'm the only one who's fucked you?"

his hand comes down to toy with your clit, rubbing and tweaking it gently as he continues to pound into you. "you're mine and this pussy's mine now. you know that?"

you chest heaves up and down as your breathing picks up, his words and thrusts and fingers causing the familiar tightening in your stomach to be the most intense you've ever felt. "yeosang, holyshit, holy fuck, i'm gonna-"

loud, squeaky moans leave your mouth when your first orgasm hits, followed by longer deeper ones when his thrusts becomes more sporadic, movements sloppy as he chases after his own high. his brain reminds him to pull out just before he comes, releasing on your stomach with low, deep groans.

you lay there with your eyes closed, feeling boneless as he wipes your stomach and legs before placing a kiss on your forehead. you hear him move around the room before crawling back in next to you, gently moving you until you're both under his comforter. you turn your head to look at him, eyes lazily opening as a shy, satisfied smile crosses your face.

"are you good?" he asks, "you feel okay?"

"i feel like...i wanna do that again in ten minutes," you say honestly, a blush creeping up on your face when he bursts out laughing and pulls you into him.

"i think i'll be able to make that happen, love," he says, pecking your cheek with multiple, loud kisses before trailing his lips down your neck.

it takes you a few seconds to remember where you are when your eyes pop open the next morning, looking around at the walls and comforter before realizing you're in yeosang's bed. the very same bed you spent hours in last night, exploring every surface of each other's bodies with your mouths and hands.

you sit up and stretch your arms up with a tiny groan, feeling a bit of soreness between your legs when you start to move around the room for a pair of pants. but as you put on the t-shirt and sweatpants he left on his dresser, you know every bit of it was worth it. because he truly is a talented man, you think any of his personality faults could be made up with by the sheer power and skill his fingers have.

except, maybe, when you open the door to his bedroom and hear him and his friend seonghwa talking in the kitchen area.

"you have to tell her," seonghwa says quietly. "tell her that your feelings changed and that you regret ever even thinking like that."

" but what if- i can't even think about-"

"she has to know, yeosang," the boy says adamantly, "it wouldn't be right if you kept it from her."

your stomach drops as you listen to the boy's words, hearing yeosang sigh heavily.

"i know. but what the fuck," he says, the frustration and fear in his tone obvious. "how do i tell her something like that? i can't just be like hey, y/n, your brother was actually right, i was just using you to get back at him but now i'm-"

you can't even stop the broken "what?" from escaping your mouth as your chest caves in.

yeosang and seonghwa's heads immediately snap up to you, both of their faces falling before the blonde boy charges to you. "y/n, wait..."

your eyes sting and chest burns as you go back in the room, slamming his own door shut as you frantically start looking for your clothes.

because how fucking stupid could you have been. how could you not have seen that he'd been faking everything? was he that good of an actor? or were you really just an absolute idiot blinded by a hot guy in a leather jacket?

yeosang comes barreling in the room less than a second later, face frantic and panicked.

"y/n, you have to listen to me."

a maniac laugh falls from your lips as you shake your head frantically, taking his shirt off as you back yourself into the opposite side of his room.

"fuck you."

"baby, i know that sounded bad but you have-"

"don't call me that!" you screech, throwing his shirt across the room as you quickly slip on yours. "you're disgusting, you're so fucking disgusting, oh my god."

"y/n, i said that stupid shit the first night i met you because we were all pissed at what changbin did and i-"

"stop!" you screech, fumbling to take off his pants as you slip on your jeans, "stop talking. i-i don't wanna hear anything you have to say."

"i regret even saying that after our first date because i could tell i was really gonna like you, that i wanted-"

"shut up," you snap, getting your bag from his dresser and making your way to his bedroom door. he grabs you gently by the arm and brings you into him, disgust making its way up your throat as he holds you in his arms.

"baby, please," he begs, voice wavering and fearful, "just give me five minutes to-"

"i said don't fucking call me that!" you yell, placing your hands on his chest and forcefully pushing him back. your eyes meet his and you feel the humiliation and embarassment flood through you. because you're still so stupid and blinded, thinking there's actual hurt swirling in his eyes as he looks at you on the verge of a breakdown.

"we had sex," you blurt out, tears swarming in your eyes that start to leak down your cheeks. "i-i gave you my-" you can't even get the words out before a humorless laugh slips out of your mouth. "you fucking lied about everything, yeosang. you lied straight to my face and took me on dates and had fucking sex with me."

"i didn't lie, i never lied," he says, making his way over to you as he holds out his hands . "i like you, y/n, i like you so fucking much and i regretted saying that stupid shit the second i-"

"i never wanna see you again, do you understand me?" you say, voice breaking as you look in his eyes one last time. "don't ever talk to me again."

"y/n, please-" but you quickly turn around and make your way out the door with your head hung low, scurrying past the seven boys on the couch who are trying to act like they hadn't just heard everything.

yeosang runs out of his room the second the upstairs door slams shut, the seven pairs of eyes going from the staircase to the dishevled, broken boy standing in the doorway.

"yeosang," hongjoong says tentatively, unable to gauge if the boy's about to cry or punch a hole in the wall. but he himself isn't too sure what he's gonna do, walking over to the couch and sinking into it as his head falls into his hands.

"i fucked up," he grumbles, voice wet and wobbling, "i fucked up so bad."

"i told you," san's voice says sadly after a few moments of silence, the other boys looking at him with wide eyes because now is so not the time for i told you so. but yeosang can only look at him, watery eyes on the boy as he nods his head.

"i know you did," he says and the whole room can hear how devastated he is. how his mind is already screaming at him, fearful that it just ruined one of the best things he's ever had.

the car ride back to your house is silent, changbin's grip on the wheel tight as he listens to you cry into your hands. he knows you both have your issues, that you fight and dislike each other more often than not, but seeing you cry is something he'll always consider to be one of his least favorite things.

"are you gonna tell me what happened, y/n?" he asks, tone surprisingly calm and even.

"no changbin," you spit, "i already told you 500 times that i don't wanna talk about it."

the car stops a few minutes later and you figure you're at a red light until you feel him put it in park. your teary eyes shoot up to look at him, lips pursing together so a loud sob doesn't leave them.

"if you don't tell me, i'm turning around and asking him myself."

and that's when you break down even further, lips trembling as ugly, horrific sobs start to leave you. he can only stare blankly for a few moments before awkwardly reaching his hand out to place it on your shoulder, shock quickly replacing his face when you harshly knock it off.

"don't touch me!" you scream, "this is your fault in the first place!"

his eyebrows furrow together at your outburst, turning his head to look at you. "what? what are you talking about?"

"you were right, okay," you say, voice considerably more weak and saddended from just seconds ago. "he-he was using me. because of what you did to his friend. and i was so fucking stupid and didn't see it and you were right all along and-"

"okay, wait, wait, slow down," he says, "what happened? how did you find this out?"

"why the hell does that matter," you squeak, "all that matters is he fucking lied to me and i never wanna see him again!"

changbin's eye remain narrowed as his brain wracks itself over a conversation, his mouth opening to speak before you beat him to it.

"can we just go home, please," you beg, "i just wanna go to sleep."

he looks over to see your face wet and eyes puffy, body and soul completely drained and in need of sleep. so he spares you for now, driving you home where you end up not leaving your room for three straight days.

by the fourth day of you missing school, telling your parents your stomach still doesn't feel right and you're gonna vomit, he's had enough.

changbin charges into your room before he leaves for school, plopping down on your bed and smacking your head with one of your many decor pillows.

"leave me alone, changbin," you whine, moving your head to bury it in your sheets.

"no," he says, crawling over your legs to sit on the other side. "you've wallowed enough. now you have to sit up so i can tell you something."

"i don't care," you dramatically whine, "i don't wanna hear anything you have to tell me."

"what if i tell you yeosang told me himself that he was using you?"

your head snaps up immediately, unwashed knotty hair a mess as you stare at him with wide eyes and an empty feeling in your chest.

"what?"

"maybe he just likes me for me. would that be so hard to believe?"

changbin can only roll his eyes at your dramatics, letting out a scoff as he shakes his head at you. "whatever, y/n. just don't come crying to me when you discover i was right." he pushes passed you and into the house, bumping into the shoulder of a familiar leather jacket.

"oops, sor-" the deep male voice says until his head snaps up. "oh."

changbin's head snaps up, eyes narrowing at the boy and resisting the urge to punch him int he face.

"yeah, oh," he says sarcastically, pushing the boy back roughly. "stay the hell away from my sister."

"what part of she's my girl didn't you understand?" the boy says back daringly, looking at him with such determination and sureness he'd respect him if they were in any other circumstances.

"you're fucking nuts, you know that?" changbin laughs out, pushing him again until he hits the back of the wall. "our issues are with each other. so why go after her, huh? are you that scared of me?"

"i'm not scared of you at all actually," yeosang snaps back, "if i was, would i straight up be telling you that was initially my plan?"

it takes a second for changbin to register what the boy actually just told him, his eyebrows furrowed together. because there was no way he just admitted to his face that he was going to-

"i was gonna do that at first, use her to get even and have you pissed off," he says, "but that plan went to shit right after our first date when i realized i would end up having feelings for her."

"wow, how romantic," changbin bites sarcastically, "is that supposed to earn you my approval, you twisted fuck?"

"no, because i'm not asking for your approval. i just want you to know my feelings for her are genuine."

changbin's eyebrow raises at his comment, the intensity in his eyes and tone telling him the kid is telling the truth.

"you know, you give her a lot of unnecessary stress with your petty bullshit and fighting. she cares about you a lot and you take advantage of that."

changbin's neck tenses up and he pops it to the side, taking a step closer to the boy as his voice drops threateningly. "you don't know anything so i suggest you-”

"i'm not trying to start shit with you," yeosang says, rolling his eyes and pushing him back slightly because this idiot totally missed the point. "but if you can't stop being an asshole for yourself, then at least do it for her. because she feels obligated to you and your parents even though she shouldn't."

and with that, changbin watches him walk past him and open the front door. he sees your figure hunched over, head in your hands as you sit out in the cold and something about that image mixed with yeosang's words causes his stomach to sink.

you remain speechless after changbin tells you about his and yeosang's conversation, teeth digging into your lip as you mull over the this new information. because parts of it make you feel a little bit better, that he was honest to you about the timeline and did truly have feelings for you.

but he still lied to you. still based your relationship off lies and negativity and made you feel so incredibly humiliate during those first few moments of finding out.

"i'm not saying what he did was right and i still don't particularly like him," changbin says, "but i think any malicious intent he had lasted for about three seconds. you seem to have the guy pretty whipped."

a humorless laugh leaves your mouth as you shake your head, pursing your lips to the side in thought. "but he still lied to me," you say quietly, "he started our whole relationship off on a lie to get stupid revenge on you."

changbin's hand comes up to pat your head like you're a little lap dop, your nose scrunching up at him in distaste before a small smile crosses his face. "it's obviously gonna be your decision, y/n, i was just saying my thoughts."

and with that, he gets up and heads toward your door. you watch him turn in the doorway, looking at you cuddled up in bed and looking so much like the little sister he used to torment. "i'm also gonna tell dad to lay off you about being my babysitter," he says teasingly, "i'm getting kind of old, right?"

"kind of?" you quip sarcastically, a smile tugging at your lips when he throws his middle finger up at you and slams your door shut. your first laugh in days bubbles out of your mouth before you roll over in bed, staring at the ceiling as you mule over everything in your head.

the next time you see yeosang, it's the first time you ever get drunk. another party with only 'northerners' left it without incident, changbin not only friendly and cordial but also sober to keep a watchful eye on you.

which by the end of the night, was absolutely needed. because four shots and two beers would've been a decent amount for any high school girl but especially one who hadn't drank before.

and with a week to think over your situation with yeosang, it was clear drunk you had finally come to a consensus as you dial up his number; he had respected your wishes and hadn't once contacted you, a sinking feeling in you that maybe it's actually because he didn't care enough to try.

but then he answered one the first ring, a frantic "hello?" spoken into the phone that was met with your drunk, girlish giggle.

"i-i've missed your voice, wow," you stutter, the deep, gruffness something all too desirable. "what are youuu doing."

"are you drunk?" he asks, the sound of him moving in the background getting lost in your ringing ears.

"are- are you drunk?" you gasp, "oh no, how are-are you gonna get me on your coooool motorcycle bad boy yeosang."

he'd laugh at you in other circumstance but right now, he has no idea where you are or if you're in a safe space or if you're about to remember what he did and hang up on him.

"where are you? is changbin with you?"

"changbin?" you squeak, the boy snapping his head to look at you. "he's right next to me! he-he told me you guys talked, ya know. k-kind of saved your ass, if i'm being honest."

"can i talk to him?"

you hand the phone to changbin as you tiredly lean against the wall, shutting your eyes as your body starts to feel boneless and warm. you hear the sound of changbin's voice and even a strangled chuckle before he hangs up the phone, guiding you toward the corner of your room where your bag is.

"where-where are we going?"

"yeosang's gonna come pick you up. is that okay?" changbin asks softly.

"he is?" you squeal happily, "tha-that's okay. i've missed him. i-i want to see him."

"okay, good," changbin says, "because he's coming. let's go wait for him."

he guides you up the stairs and out the door carefully, holding on to your arm and trying not to laugh when you almost face-plant several times. your eyes stay trained on the street looking for a familiar black motorcycle that you miss the white car pulling up completely, yeosang getting out and walking around the hood as he races toward the house.

"hi changbin," he says, looking at the boy who gives him a nod before his eyes land on your glassy ones. "hey, you."

"oh-oh, my god, he forgot my name already," you whisper to changbin, "what an asshole!"

"i don't think he forgot your name," he assures with a smile, yeosang biting his lip to hide his own.

"i could never forget your name, y/n," he says teasingly, holding his hand out for you to grab.

you look at it with a smile before quickly taking it, intertwining your fingers and feeling your heart warm at the familiar sensation of his hand in yours. the whole time to his house, you complain that you really expected his arrival on the motorcycle.

"th-this car is fine, i guess," you say, "but a motorcycle is like sexy, you know. even though you're only a teenager. hey, are you-are you even old enough to ride a motorcycle? di-did you break the rules just so you can have a bad boy agenda?"

he snorts when he pulls up to his house, assuring you he had all the proper training and licensing to ride a motorcycle before guiding you carefully into his house. the seven boys are sprawled out on the couch, looking at your stumbling figure with a wary look but a smile nonetheless.

"i-i'm not stupid, i promise, you guys," you tell them, causing them to fall silent. "i-i think he actually likes me." only a few beats of silence pass before they burst out laughing, yeosang's cheeks warming because if anyone knows how much he likes you, it's them.

"i think you're right," mingi says, thinking back to how sulky and miserable the boy's been all week. "actually, i know you're right."

"really!" you squeal, clapping your hands together before you recongize his bright red hair. "hey! you're the one who was dancing to gasol-"

"okay, let's go, c'mon," yeosang says, ushering you into his room quickly because he knows just how fast a grind line could start if that song comes on in the presence of his friends.

he lays out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt for you before he leaves to get you water, your eyes lighting up the second you see comfortable clothes and his bed. he comes back in a few minutes later to see your clothes in a ball, your body sprawled out on his bed.

"sooo comfy..." you hum, shutting your tired eyes and letting yourself melt into the warm comforter.

"y/n..." he says, placing the glass on his bedside table before sitting next to you. "i need to tell you how fucking sorry-"

"sh," you say, bringing your finger to his lips and pulling him down next to you. "we'll talk tomorrow, mmkay? i just want to sleep with you right now."

he roams over your sleepy face softly, your eyes shut and face relaxed as your head nods off side to side. you feel him place a kiss on your forehead, letting his lips linger before he pulls you under the covers and guides your head to his chest.

you're about to fall asleep to the sound of his steady heartbeat when you hear his deep voice mutter, "i missed you, baby. i'm sorry."

the second your eyes open, there's a pain pounding in your head so severe you think you're about to die. you slowly sit up, wincing at the seering sensation that shoots through your temple before a hand carefully guides your back to sit up.

you jump at the feeling, turning your head frantically to the side before your face drops when you see yeosang. it takes a few seconds for the hazy memories to come back, all the meanwhile he's staring at you with such fear and sadness in his eyes.

because he thinks you're regretting all of this: calling him and coming home with him in the first place, giving him a second chance he probably doesn't deserve but is gonna make sure he proves worthy of. he knows that the next words you speak could potentially shatter him, make him cry and beg on the spot and completely show you just how whipped you really made him in three months.

but instead, you quietly get out "hi," and he thinks that's probably an okay start.

"how you feeling?" he asks, running his fingers through your hair.

"horrible," you blunty speak causing a small laugh to bubble out of his chest.

"you'll feel better after you eat. i'll make you something, okay?" he says gently, his hand moving from your hair to your cheek. "there's water right there."

you nod your head, gulping down the cold liquid before laying back down as he pads out of the bedroom. you don't know how long you fall back asleep for until yeosang comes back into his room, placing the plate on the bed before he gently stirs you awake.

"food, love," he mumbles lowly, causing your eyes to pop open. you let him feed you small bites of an omlette and gulp down another glass of water before you feel slightly human, curling back up into his bed in fetal position.

he rests his back on the headboard as he looks down at you, looking over your figure with such a soft, gentle look it causes your eyes to narrow. "what?"

he swallows the lump in his throat, his adams apple bobbing as he tries to gather himself.

"i'm sorry, y/n," he rushes out, "i-i've felt so shitty this past week and i don't deserve to have you hear me out but i swear to you, i swear i only had that stupid idea in my head for a second and then after our-"

"first date," you finish with closed eyes, "changbin told me about your conversation."

he's shocked and a little thrown off by the calmness in your tone, thinking and knowing he deserves to have his ass handed to him. "oh."

"i'm still mad at you," you tell him, "and you're gonna have a lot of making up to do."

"i know," he says, "believe me, i know, and i'm ready. more than ready."

"and we have to be honest from here on out about everything. like we always should've been."

he nods his head quickly, "i know, yes. i agree. i completely agree."

"okay," you say simply, wanting so bad to smile at the shocked look on his face. "then...i'll forgive you."

the look on his face causes your heart to soar, his lips pressing into one another as his eyes gloss over.

"unless you cry," you say, the teasing in your tone causing him to smile. "you're supposed to be a bad boy and bad boys don't cry."

his deep chuckle booms through his room as he shakes his head, wrapping his arm around your waist as he pulls you into him. "there's that bad boy, talk, again," he says, "do you remember calling me out on my, what was the phrase, bad boy agenda?"

you giggle against his chest as you nod your head, shutting your eyes contently as you snuggle against his warm chest. he tightens his hold around you, placing a kiss to the top of your head when you suddenly blurt out, "some bad boy you are, liking me after the first date," you tease playfully, "i didn't even like you until after the third."

#why did i make yungi dance to gasolina you ask?#i simply do not have an answer #yeosang #yeosang angst #yeosang fluff #yeosang smut #ateez #ateez angst #ateez fluff #ateez smut

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shessoparticular · 4 years ago

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Blurred Lines | Part 1 | #ShawnMendesWritingCircle

Thank you @saysweartogod-og for starting this #ShawnMendesWritingCircle challenge!! Hope ya’ll enjoy the first part of my shawn x pa! reader fic!

Being the personal assistant to one of the biggest popstars in the world was a busy job whenever Shawn was doing press or touring but you seemed to just be “one of the boys” whenever Shawn was recording new music. He now owned a small cottage just outside LA that he used exclusively to record all his new stuff, staying away from the now notorious cabin the woods where he recorded a lot of his earlier stuff. It quickly became one of your favorite places to spend time with one of your favorite people in the world.

You had all but moved into Shawn’s recording cottage to be on hand whenever he or his writers or producers needed anything. Shawn had insisted on you taking the guest room, claiming there was absolutely no reason for you to spend money to rent a place when he had the whole place to himself. Part of the deal was that you’d have to be on hand basically 24/7, not just for him, but for the whole team. If they wanted coffee, you got it. If they wanted any type of food, you got it. If they wanted a specific notebook, you got it. You had been Shawn’s assistant for two years and knew his favorite brands and items without giving it a second thought, stocking up on things you could’ve been asked for which made the number of times you’d actually have to leave the house minimal. Shawn This led to getting an insight into Shawn’s writing and producing habits for up to 10 hours a day. Recording time was the best time to spend around Shawn as you were free from a lot of the authoritarian figures who watched over the two of you constantly.

You knew it was inappropriate but of course you had a little bit of a crush on Shawn, who wouldn’t? Constantly throughout your working relationship, you had forgotten that he paid your bills and he was actually your boss, although he treated you like you were friends. Andrew and the team had specifically hired someone around his age hoping that they’d be able to work well with Shawn, but they never imagined that you’d have as good a relationship as you had now. You’d stay up together on the bus in the middle of tour, talking about absolutely nothing but somehow, you’d never run out of things to say, often chatting your heads off until you saw the sun come up through the front window. You’d often end up asleep on random couches in expensive hotel rooms when you decide to binge watch a movie trilogy or a season of a random show. You’d even snuck out without the others knowing, seeing the sights of whatever random city you had found yourselves in. The one thing the two of you never discussed was a kiss you had shared after a night out in Europe. You were both under the influence of a hell of a lot of alcohol and agreed to never speak on it again, Shawn saying it was a mistake. You definitely didn’t agree, it was now like it never actually happened, despite how much you wanted it to happen again. The lines of a working relationship were blurred a long time ago.

“Hey y/n, can you grab me a new bottle?” Shawn asked, holding up the empty flow bottle, distracting you from your thoughts as you sat on the beanbag placed along the wall of the small studio room. “Got you” You laughed, standing up and grabbing a new bottle from the fridge next to you, tossing it to the tall boy situated on the chair close to the desk holding a heap of expensive recording equipment. You had been too distracted by your own thoughts to see that he was staring at you before he asked the question, with the same look you would give him whenever he wasn’t looking, a look of adoration.

Shawn had developed a crush on you as well. It was kind of inevitable for him, spending all this time together, feelings were bound to appear. He was professional though, and never let himself cross the boundaries though, except for that one night. He valued your friendship too much to let anything get in the way of you keeping your job. He was happy to have you around in any capacity.

“What’s on the agenda tonight, popstar?” You asked as you took a sip of the bottled water you’d gotten out for yourself, plopping yourself back down on the beanbag. Sunday’s meant Shawn was working by himself in the studio, free from the distractions of the other producers and writers, allowing him to be the sole creator of any ideas that came to mind that day. This was your favorite way to watch Shawn work. “It’s like 6pm and I’m honestly nearly done here so what do you think about some UberEats, that beer in the main fridge and whatever new Netflix standup comedy is out?” He asks, playing around with some buttons on the panel on the desk in front of him. “Only if I get to pick where we order from” You laughed in response, pulling up the app on your phone to search for your favorite fast food burger joint. “I think I can deal with Chick-fil-A again” He chuckled. He knew you a little too well.

Shawn returned to whatever he was creating on the sound desk in front of him, leading you to unlock your phone and open up the photos app. You spent the next however many minutes aimlessly looking at all of the photos of the two of you together, silly selfies when you were both going insane on tour and the typical tourist photos in front of landmarks all over the world featured, your mind going back to every moment you’d captured together. You smiled to yourself thinking of the memories you’d shared together.

Three hours later the two of you were curled up under blankets on the L-shaped couch, chugging your beers, chowing down on the chicken sandwiches while a Netflix standup special was playing in the background. You and Shawn rarely ever paid attention to what was playing on the TV, too engrossed in your own conversation. The two of you had discussed any random topic you could think of while consuming a copious amount of alcohol. The two of you both hadn’t had alcohol for a while, so it was affecting you a lot more than it usually did. “So… is there a girl yet Mendes?” you giggled, the beer finally making you a little bit buzzed. You were always pretty professional around Shawn and he rarely ever saw you under the influence. In the two years you’d known him, he’d never had a girlfriend. Of course, there were girls around, look at him! But they’d never stuck around. “Why do you ask me this when you already know the answer is no? We spend all our time together, I don’t have time for anyone else” He laughed, taking another swig of his fourth beer.

“So, are there any boys?” He retorted while you rolled your eyes at him. “Yeah there’s one annoying one who depends on me for everything, his name is Shawn” you cracked yourself up, you and Shawn knew at this point the alcohol was overwhelming you. You had stayed up for another few hours, finishing off a few episodes of Jane The Virgin. “I think it’s bedtime for you, look at you” he snickered while he cleaned up the leftovers and empty bottles. You were still laid up on the couch, but now half asleep. “Only if I get to stay in your bed” you replied with a giggle, looking up at him while he stood over cleaning off the coffee table in front of you. Drunk you had a lot more courage than your sober self. “I suppose, only if you stay on your side” He laughed, obviously a bit tipsy as well. You helped him scoop up the rest of the mess before you headed towards his bedroom door instead of your own.

“So, what are we gonna talk about? I haven’t shared a bed with a boy since you started cockblocking me two years ago” you teased, looking at him from across the bed. “Cockblocking?” He asked while confused. “Yeah. You think any guy is gonna wanna try and get with me at a bar when I’m always with this extremely good-looking tall dude scaring them off?” You replied truthfully, the alcohol had obviously worn off by this point of the night. “You think I’m good-looking?” he teased, poking his tongue out at you. “Of course I think that! I’ve only had a crush on you for the last eighteen months” you finally admitted, afraid of his reaction. “That’s the alcohol talking” He sighed, with a slight look of disappointment on his face. “It’s really not. I just don’t want to risk my job, Shawn. We’ve been so professional together, trying to not break any rules. I never wanted people to think that I got to where I am by sleeping with my boss. I’d never go against Andrew or your label, Shawn. I love our relationship and how we are together so much. I’d never risk that because of a stupid little crush” You were almost crying at this point, wiping away tears as you sat up in the bed.

“It’s not a stupid crush y/n. You know heaps of people around me have said that we look like a couple. I like you as well, you must know that already. I have for ages, that’s why I’ve never dated anyone since we got to know each other. We just can’t act on it; it would be so unprofessional” he admitted. “I wish we could, I really do. You have no idea how much I want to kiss you right now. But as you said I would hate for people to think any less of you because of it” he continued. “That’s what I thought, I want more than anything for us to actually be together and I’m annoyed that it took alcohol for me to tell you. Do you even remember when we kissed in Germany?” you asked him. “Of course I remember it. I think about it all the time” He exclaimed. “We can’t be talking about this y/n” He sighed, looking over at you. “Can’t talk about what, Shawn?” You sassed back, your sadness quickly turning to anger. “Us. There can’t be an us” He stated simply. “Then stop leading me on Shawn! You can’t treat me like more than a friend and turn it around on me when it suits you. It’s embarrassing. I don’t know if you remember, but you kissed me Shawn, not the other way around. If you want me to just act like your employee, that’s exactly what I’ll do” you yelled almost quietly, taking your pillow and storming back into the guest bedroom. You made sure to slam both his and your door as loud as you possibly could.

The next morning you made your way out to the kitchen to make your morning coffee before Shawn joined you. “I made you a coffee, boss” you sassed, passing him the extra cup you had just poured moments before he entered the kitchen. If he wanted you to act like an employee, that’s exactly what you’d do. “Thank you. I ordered from that breakfast place you like down the road. I just have to make a phone call; can you just go to the door and grab it? It should be here any minute. Then I want to actually discuss what the fuck actually happened last night.” He stated, finishing his iPhone out of his pocket. “Sure” you replied, heading to the door quickly, with your coffee still in hand, to meet the delivery driver. You grabbed the food and tipped the driver before heading back inside the door while Shawn finished off his phone call.

You didn’t want to listen in, but you couldn’t help it. “Yeah, yeah of course” he replied to the person on the phone. “No, I’m definitely single. I’d love to take you out once you get to LA” he told the person on the other side of the call. You couldn’t help but freeze in place when you heard what he said, dropping the coffee cup, allowing the liquid to spill everywhere and the porcelain to break all over the floor, tears filling your eyes. “I’ve gotta go” He hung up quickly before looking over at you near the entrance. “y/n?” He questioned as soon as he saw the tears in your eyes. “Yeah, I heard that Shawn” You replied angrily, dropping the bag of food on the kitchen bench before storming off into your guest room, locking the door behind you.

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes imagine #ShawnMendesWritingCircle #shawn mendes x pa! reader #shawn mendes x y/n

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selfproducingfanfictionauthor · 5 years ago

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Life Unlived - yoongi x reader

Summary: On your death bed, your king visits you.

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader / Seokjin x reader

Warnings: Major character death. Infidelity. Royalty AU! Rating: Mature (NC17, for infidelity and implied smut) Word Count: 2,462 Genre: Romance, angst, royalty au

Notes: This was supposed to be part of the 30-minute challenge I have going on - just basically, write anything within 30 minutes. But it got away - a whole extra hour! (Updated with new header + new format)

yoongi looks up as the heavy doors of his wife’s chamber open. for a moment, a sliver of candlelight escapes the room, some warmth passes his feet before disappearing into the cold.

out steps one of his oldest advisors, lord seokjin. even after decades of life and two wars marred by many deaths, the lord of the north remains handsome even in the dark. his hair has gone grey, just like yoongi’s and though his shoulders remain broad as the sky, his back has stooped bringing him closer to the earth.

“my king,” seokjin greets with a bow, and if he’s surprised with his royal crown’s appearance, he does not show it.

there are no servants around, yoongi made sure of that. and decades ago, that would’ve been enough for his oldest friend to call him by his name. perhaps even crack a joke or two, but it’s been decades since he heard seokjin address him with anything but detached respect.

in the darkness of the halls, a cough echoes and both men sharply turn to the door, their bodies stiff, waiting just until the cough subsides.

“how is she?” yoongi asks

for a moment, seokjin’s old bones fill with rage. rage at the audacity of yoongi to ask. rage at the unfairness of it all. and yet -- one look at his king’s trembling hands, seokjin knows that this is not the time for bitter words.

“not well, my king. the physician says that... she will be lucky if she sees the morning.”

yoongi closes his eyes and feels the cold hands of dread grip his heart and slide against his back, the ermine fur of his coat failing to keep it away. “i see.”

when yoongi enters the room, he looks at your figure bathed in candlelight. if he’s more of a romantic, he’ll have the courage to tell you that you look ethereal like the sun goddess you and your country believe in. (or used to believe in, before, before his father outlawed such heretic practices)

with your faded hair stark against the rich red of your pillows, your skin glowing, he could almost taste a time way back.

but then, a cough rattles your chest and without opening your eyes, you reach for a cloth by your side. you strain for the few inches of distance and yoongi steps to close the distance between the two of you.

he hands you the bloodied cloth quietly and watches you cough, your eyes blearily looking at him.

“seokjin? my lord, did i not tell you to go home?”

yoongi’s heart stutters at the fondness in your voice, even when it’s not directed at him. he aches to be spoken to like that so much that he wants to lie --

“it’s me.”

and instantly, your languid - weakened- state vanishes and he sees you transform from an ailing old (beautiful, still-- you were always so so beautiful) woman on her deathbed to the warrior queen he married so long ago.

you blink away the sleep and fatigue before turning to see your king standing by your arm. “my king, what are you doing here?”

without speaking, yoongi sits by your side, taking the cloth and dabbing it on your mouth gently, his own withered hands shaking. gone are the days that he bested all the land in archery and tennis, and all the things princes do.

“my queen is sick, do i not have the right to see her too?”

the last word hangs between the two of you. it hangs like the decades long affair unacknowledged yet known to both of you.

you handle it like you always handle yoongi. unyielding in the face of the storm.

“of course you do, my king. but i know for a fact that the physician has barred you from entering my chambers.”

yoongi inhales, his own breathe stuttering. oh, to be young again and to argue with you endlessly. he’ll take your sharp words everyday if it meant you’d look at him.

“the physician says you may not last the night.”

“and you’re here to make sure i do not?”

the bite in your words is familiar but your accusation is not. do you truly think... no... you couldn’t possibly...

yoongi looks at you, stunned, his eyes wide and you pretend that it’s glassy too. perhaps he has tears for you too.

“i do not wish for your death, my queen.”

you eye him warily, the softness of his voice lost against the hardness of the walls surrounding your heart. those you’ve built the moment you knew that you and he could never be.

“so you say. when i die, they will pressure you to marry again. and you may marry anyone just give me the courtesy befitting of my station - thirty days, my king.”

it is familiar. you’ve said the same thing before and though it was decades ago, yoongi never forgot.

it had not been the first nor the last affair you discovered. and as the years went by after the incident, yoongi realized that perhaps it’s not even really just about his affairs.

but, it had been a fine morning and you were twenty-two and he was twenty-three. you’ve been married for a year and he’s been pursuing someone for longer.

it had been an old acquaintance of his, a daughter of one of their esteemed lords. they had gone to school together. she was beautiful, kind and regal. he was supposed to marry her instead of you and he had fancied that perhaps he’d be one of the rare monarchs with a happy marriage.

but instead, for the sake of the alliance, he married you.

he had been bitter and angry, and he did not hide it from you, therefore turning the whole court hostile against their new queen. whispers of your past as a warrior littered the halls adorned with vile words and curses as if you made the choice to sit on their throne yourself.

you had known that monarchs of their country were not expected to be monogamous. you knew that. but you were at least hoping it won’t be slapped against your face.

“I didn’t come here with the belief that you would love me, yoongi,” you began, poised and regal, your royalty shining through. Taking a deep breath, you continue, “I’d just hope perhaps you’d allow me the courtesy my station requires.”

none too subtly, you flicked your hard eyes to the window where the woman in question walked with the other ladies.

yoongi was enraged at your courage and in anger he said, “you’re welcome to your own affairs, my lady. leave me with mine. and don’t call me ‘yoongi’, i am your king.”

nights after, he laid with her for the first time and continued to do so for a long time.

“my lord, what’s on your mind?” his lover murmured against his chest, catching yoongi looking at the empty vase by his desk.

“why do you not send wildflowers anymore, my lady?” he asked, quietly.

“hmm?” she hummed, kissing the back of his ear, “i’ve never sent any, my lord, you deserve far more than just flowers from the road.”

soon, he found that the little things were from you. the command to re-shoe his favorite horse every time he hunts, the extra bags of tea from the neighboring kingdom, the quiet of the court of commons -- the wildflowers by his bed.

he didn’t think you’d actually have an affair until he slowly saw you less and less around his circle and more and more with somebody else.

he half-expected it to be a quick affair, seokjin was notorious with his strings of lovers, but a month passed, then another... and another.

and he never left.

even when you could not lay with him, when you and yoongi were trying for an heir. even when you were swollen with yoongi’s children. even when you marched on to fight in the first war - the first queen to ever do so. even when you grew old, and your skin began to droop - seokjin never left.

it grated yoongi’s pride for years and it took even longer for him to realize that it’s not his pride that was hurting. because he realized, not once, not even after you lost one of your children to stillbirth, not even after your other children’s births, not once, did you call him by his name ever again.

yoongi sits vigil with you through the night. his own back hunching as he sit by your bed, offering you water and more blankets as the night grew colder. you slip and out of consciousness and as time went on, you grow less and less lucid.

confessions spill from your lips. of how you’re worried of your children; your son who’s next in line to be king, your younger son who’s learning up north and your daughter, who’s almost at the age to be married. you worry and worry.

and then you turn to him, your hand seeking his. “you will guide them, won’t you, my king?”

“of course, my queen.” yoongi reassures, his lips touching your knuckles. here, at the end, he will take what he can get.

your eyes shine at the gesture, soft and almost loving. “you know, i loved you the first time i saw you.” for a heartbeat, yoongi aches at the thought that perhaps you are seeing seokjin here, in your last moments, but he holds fast, even as his eyes water. “but you hurt me so much and so often, yoongi.”

a heart-wrenching sob tears through you and a tear drops on his withered hand. at the tip of his tongue are apologies and confessions of his own, remembering all his sharp words and bitter affairs. but he remains quiet.

“i first saw you in the battlefield, do you remember? of course you don’t. silly me.” you muse, eyes softer than he’s ever seen. “i was bloody and dirty, and you looked at me like...”

your voice grow softer, sadder, “you looked at me like i was dirt beneath your shoe.”

yoongi shakes his head, vehemently, “no, no, i thought you were beautiful.” he confesses.

he remembers, how beautiful you were, how terrifyingly beautiful you were - goddess of war, fighting for the kingdom you would one day rule together. he feared you then, as he continues today. what will come in your absence?

in your last moments, you let your walls drop and you smile, reaching over to caress his face, “a liar does not make a good ruler, my king.”

yoongi captures your hand, and holds it close, his breath hitching at the teasing lilt of your voice. oh all the wasted time, all his pride. “i am not lying.”

softly, you brush your thumb against the tear streak under his eye. “are you crying for me, my king? will you miss me?”

a lump forms in yoongi’s throat and he nods, vulnerable and aching. he climbs into your bed quietly, shuffling until you’re face to face.

“truly?” you ask, eyes round in wonder.

“truly.”

the old monarchs will laugh at yoongi, old and curled up with his dying wife. his father always said that there’s no softness and romance in a marriage between two royals and yoongi used to believe it, seeing it play out in his parent’s marriage and in yours.

but, he had also seen the quiet looks his father gave his mother when he thought she wasn’t looking. he had seen the almost-routine way his mother cuts meats for his father on their table and thinks that perhaps, it wasn’t always that love wasn’t found.

it’s just that it was never spoken, acted on, and fostered.

bitterly, he realizes that he and his father turn out to have more in common than he thought.

silence befalls the two of you and yoongi holds both of your hands, scared of the coldness of them. death has entered the room and he aches for his youth, for a miracle - anything to fight for you. there’s still so much he wants to say. too much.

“even if you didn’t love me, i had hope you would’ve found a friend in me, my king.” you whisper, voice raspy and your eyes fluttering.

yoongi’s lips wobble, “yoongi. please, my--- y/n, please say my name again.”

“yoongi,” you repeat, the name almost unfamiliar to you, “yoongi, did you find a friend in me?”

i found so much more, i’m sorry -- i’m sorry. “yes. i did.”

a brilliant one, a kind one with whom he raised his children with and ruled his kingdom with. someone who raced to the battlefield with him, every bit deserving of your people’s love. a great friend, just albeit distant, there was an ocean neither of you ever attempted to cross again, not after more and more cruel words from yoongi’s pride and more and more distance from you.

“i’m glad.” you sigh, feeling death nudging at you, “i’m sorry you had to marry me.” you confess, “i’ve robbed you of your happiness.”

strength returns briefly into the old king’s hands and he grips your hands desperately, only loosening it at the sight of your wince. “no. no. i--”

will he really do this? confess on your death bed and let you die weighed by his own regrets? will he? will he say, "i’ve loved you too for the longest time"? But isn't it cruelty? Something more for him and less for you so instead--

“you brought me happiness.” yoongi has always been selfish. he will not deny himself this and you will not die thinking you are unloved by your husband.

in the dancing lights, you are young again and you smile almost delighted and yet so heartbroken at the same time. “i’m sorry i brought you pain as well. perhaps next time...”

yoongi doesn’t believe in the next life, but for you, for this, he will. “next time.”

the queen passes in her sleep and witnesses say that the king was found cradling her body close, his sobs echoing in the chamber. they say it took hours before he allowed the physicians to take her body and prepare her for her final place.

their kingdom mourn for the loss of a great queen that ruled with compassion and wisdom, she who listened to the masses because her roots remained strong. their children mourn for the loss of a gentle mother, with eyes like crescent moons and presence wrought with history and magic.

seokjin leaves his estates to his brother, rides a horse in the middle of the night and never comes back.

and their king, yoongi - yoongi never marries again.

notes: comments and feedback are much appreciated! :)

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tamagochiie · 4 years ago

Text

--would you be so kind [tsukishima kei]

genre: fluff/slight angst

pairing: tsukishima kei x reader

song: would you be so kind by dodie

synopsis: you’ve fallen for quite a boy and what’s the best way to confess to someone if not during the school festival?

wc: 2.37k

a/n: truth be told, i was inspired to write this when i was listening to dodie, and i tried to somehow tie the lyrics in with the story, but i kinda lost my flow in between, but the story still works!

"This might seem strange..." You should've known better than to reach out to Yamaguchi and Yachi the moment those words left his lips. You should've cut him off, stopped him before he could finish the thought and left, but you didn't. You had sat there with your attention wrapped around Yamaguchi's finger as he conceptualized your perfect confession.

I should've gone to someone else, you thought. But you didn't have many friends and the ones you did have had no experience with love. You were lucky enough to have been friends with the ultimate Karasuno High duo canonically known to the student body as: YamaYachi.

Though, you weren't entirely sure if you could even deem yourself lucky.

They were quite meddlesome since you've come to know them and let them into your life. Though for someone as quiet and kept together as you, their presence helped spice up it every now and then. Like when they volunteered you to be the new volleyball manager without your consent, or when they had found out your heart had unwillingly fallen for Karasuno's notorious jackass, Tsukishima Kei, and butt in.

They would crack a wedge in every small opening they found to get you two together and chucked you right through it. During practice, when it came to water breaks, they'd make sure Tsukki wouldn't be able to get his water bottle, forcing him to go to you to ask for it. Whenever they heard Tsukki wanted to stay behind to practice, without your consent, they'd volunteer you. When it came to walking home, oh, they'd make sure you were always by his side while they followed behind.

Though it had been extremely uncomfortable and embarrassing, a friendship did blossom. Eventually, Yachi and Yamaguchi no longer needed to manipulate the forces of nature, and Tsukki would just come looking for you on his own.

So here you were, determination shaking in your bones as you strode down the crowded corridor of your high school, going against the current as you ignored your friends' attempts to catch your attention. You took deep breaths to calm the persistent thumping of your heart and to the ease the miniatured yous dashing around in circles in your mind.

If it had been up to you, your confession would've been as toned down and discreet as you: sticking a note in Tsukki's locker and making a run for it. But your high school life had fallen into the hands of two people who shared the same brain cell, so of course, go big or go home.

At least that's what Yamaguchi had said.

He made it a point that it was their final year while you were still struggling in your second year. "If you're gonna tell someone you like them, you might as well do it facing them head on, right?"

As much as you hated it, he was right. But you shook the pompous image of Yamaguchi as you drew near your meeting place. You met Yachi at the corner away from everyone else. Her face softened when she saw the nervousness in your eyes and greets you with a hug."How are you lungs?"

"They're a bit in pain." You answered honestly, breaths shaky. "This so dumb, I don't think I can do this."

"If I could swap chests with you today, I would." She joked as an attempt to ease you; it was her silly way of saying, "I'd trade the storm in your heart for the stillness in mine," and though her odd one-liners would help, it wasn't working. "You don't have to do the funny stuff Yams said—just go up to him and tell him. That's all you really need to do...They boys are just over there by the ramen booth,"

You leaned to the side to catch a good look at Tsukki, but what you find tightly gripped your heart and squeezed out the little confidence you had been mustering the entire day.

Another girl—a pretty girl—who was glued to him by the hip, laughing and twirling her hair. But what shocked you the most was the way Tsukki looked at her intently as she spoke, like he was making it a point to actually listen to whatever was coming out of her mouth.

Yachi caught the pain etched in your face and turned to see what the problem was, "Oh shit."

You didn't exactly know what came over you, but before you brain could match the tempo of the rest of your body, you called out his name and marched towards him. "Tsukishima Kei!"

Eyes dilated and looking down at you, he blinked at the sudden sight of you. His lips twitched in a smile as if he was happy to see you, but before he could address you or even say hello, you cut him off, unintentionally yelling, "I like you! I-I know you know that I like you, b-but that's not enough...So, i-if you would—Please go out with me! "

Time was such a fickle thing; because though it had only been a mere couple of seconds, it felt like you were stuck in a forever as the silence lingered between you, Tsukki, and everyone else that was within range to hear not only your confession, but your unexpectedly bold decision to ask him out as well.

Holy fucking shit, you thought. Though the silence was a loud and clear response, the rapid thumping of your heart was louder; and you couldn't stand the thought of staying there any longer. So before Tsukki would even manage to part his lips, you bolted out of there.

You ran to the pool side, far from where everyone else had gathered, where you were supposed to watch the fireworks with Tsukki if things had fallen into place like it was supposed to. You plopped yourself onto bleachers and sunk your head into your hands as you wept. You felt in incredibly silly.

"There's gotta be some butterflies somewhere," Yamaguchi had said this when you asked if it was a smart move for you to confessing to someone when you weren't even sure if there was even the smallest possibility the feelings were mutual. You should've taken it as a sign that you shouldn't have done.

But you did.

Oh, god, you did.

The image of Tsukki looking at you dumbfounded by your confession bled through and all you could do was sob harder into your hands. You remember the teams' faces, how shocked they were to have heard you say more than three words in one breath.

Oh, shit, the team. You were gonna have to quit being manager because there as no way in hell you could bounce back from the depths of your embarrassment and pretend as if you hadn't done that, especially in front of that pretty girl.

You wanted to hate Yamaguchi and Yachi, to place the blame on them, but they never said to screech out a confession let alone ask him out. So, this was undoubtedly on you. In the end, you were the idiot and you probably just lost a really decent friendship with someone you didn't even believe could be a good friend to begin with.

Regardless of Tsukki's reputation, he was quite kind, considerate, and attentive; if you were struggling with math or life in general he was willing to listen if he couldn't physically step in to help. Thinking about it, he always seemed to match his pacing with yours. If you were in a good mood, he'd banter with you, but if you weren't he'd tread lightly and do something to lift your spirits.

During lunch, he'd buy food in pairs; one for him and one for you because he when he asked why you didn't bring food every day, you told him you didn't have time to do it in the morning and you were too tired to bother when you came home. He'd lend you his jacket if you felt cold. He'd always wait for you after club if you had to pack up equipment or do extra tasks.

All these small gestures made your heart stand on its toes, but maybe you were bold to assume he saw your more than a friend.

Maybe you were bold to assume anything.

"I wanna die!" You groaned as you finally lifted your head from your hands, your eyes meeting the sky. The sun had fallen into the horizon and it was beginning to grow dark.

"Well, if you drop dead now, I won't be able to give you an answer." You jumped at the disembodied voice, gasping. You whipped your head to find Tsukki stepping out of the tall shadow of the pool shed. A sly smirk played across his lips with this hands hidden behind his back as he waltzed towards you.

You frowned at him, not really looking at him, but rather the buttons on his shirt. Too tired to run, you accepted your fate and swallowed the little pride you surprisingly had left and decided to face the rejection head on.

"H-How'd you find me?" Your voice was strained from the crying, so you cleared your throat and tried to relax. But when Tsukki took up the space beside you, you couldn't help but flinch back into stiffness.

"Yamaguchi said you might be here..."You scoffed as you brought your knees up to your chest, still avoiding looking at him. You looked ahead at the backdrop of the night, your ears trained on the subtle chirping of the crickets nearby. This would've been an ideal date moment, thought. The embarrassment once again creeped in and you shiver at what you had done moments ago.

Why was he here? Shouldn't he be with that girl? If he was here to reject you, he should hurry up rather than spend another moment wasting it on silence.

"Hey—"

"If you're going to reject me, please do so now." You deadpanned, cutting him off. There was a tingling, numbing feeling that began to build in the tips of your fingers, and would later spread throughout your whole body. "I'd rather you be straight to the point and reject me now. I'd rather you be cold and straight to the point rather than sit here and pick at your words, so please just hurry and reject me."

Tsukki scoffed at you, pushing the frame of his glasses further onto the bridge of his nose. "Well, damn," He seethed. The way he said your name made your heart float, but your stomach drop. "What the hell do you want?"

"Excuse me?"

"You asked me to go out with you, now you want me to reject you? Tell me, which is it?" You looked at him, finally meeting his gaze. He looked annoyed—no, he looked angry and you couldn't tell why.

"I—"

"Because I came here with an answer and a bag full of that spicy ramen you liked so much," He leaned in, lessening the gap between the two of you. Though you should've been wary at the close proximity, you couldn't help but have your thoughts wander over to the spicy ramen. Did he really bring me spicy ra—" You're so annoying! I listened when you told me what you had to say, so shut up and listen to me."

"Tsukki I—"

"Yes." He said, firmly. He swung his leg over to the other side of the bench so that he'd be completely facing you. Your cheeks began to burn and you swallowed thickly at the action. "Yes, I will go out with you. I want to go out with you. Damn it, I was supposed to ask you myself, but you had to go ahead of me. I didn't even know you had that in you."

"...I didn't..." You muttered.

"Then why'd you go and do it?"

"I—" You were at a loss for words; partly because Tsukki had just said yes, but also because of his bluntness and the aggression laced in the words that so easily left his lips. "I wanted you to know before you graduated...and it would've been a waste if I stuck a note in your locker instead of facing you head on..."

"So you decided to yell it at me?"

"I panicked!" You retorted.

"Why?"

"Well," You caught your bottom lip between your teeth before you could let yourself finish. You remembered the pretty girl, how close she leaned onto Tsukki, and the bitter taste that followed. "I—Cause...That..That girl you were with...I kinda just...I snapped, okay?"

"The girl?...Oh." It was as if you heard a clicking sound the moment Tsukki had realized what you meant. "That's my cousin... She'll be an incoming first year next year, so I wanted to show her around."

Oh, my god, shoot me in between the eyes.

You buried your face back into your hands as Tsukki began to laugh. You wanted to die right then and there, you prayed to the deity's to grace you with some sort of blessing and hit you with a rock—maybe even get set on fire by a firework. Anything.

"Wooow, I can't believe I like you." Tsukki sighed as he leaned back with his arms stretched behind him for support. You peaked at him through the spaces between your fingers, watched as he smirked to himself.

"W-Wait you really like me?"

"Duh!" He spat, rolling his eyes. "Did you think I said yes to you as a joke? I would've said yes to you in front of everyone back there if you hadn't taken off like that." You sat there as you pressed your legs closer to your chest, resting your chin on your knees completely dumbfounded. You had many questions, but not enough time to take up in the night to ask it all.

You sat up straight before completely twisting yourself to face him. He furrowed his brows at you, watching you shift in your seat as you tried to regain the confidence you had lost. You cleared you throat and met his eyes, leaning in. "Then, would you be so kind to fall in love with me?"

A playful smirk tugged the corner of Tsukki's lips, "I already have."

#tsukishima fluff #tsukishima x reader #tsukki imagines #tsukishima kei #tsukki x fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!!#hq!!#haikyuu #tsukki #tsukki x reader #tsukki fluff #mine #tsukishima imagines

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iliveiloveiwrite · 5 years ago

Text

Stormy weather

A/N: THE LONGEST FIC I HAVE EVER WRITTEN. As I was writing it, I started to hate the reader lmao so I'm hoping I have redeemed them. I am hoping it flows as you read, that you can see the change in time without having to add ‘time skip’. I hope you enjoy! If you would like to be added to a taglist, let me know, I’ll happily create one! Please like and/or reblog.

Title: Emmy Raver-Lampman - Stormy Weather (originally sung by Etta James)

Pairing: Young!Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: You didn’t realise that a change in seating plan could lead to this.

Requested: Nope

Warnings: some angst, some fluff, some swearing

Word count: 4.1k

You felt silly – no, you felt stupid.

Two years… two years you had managed to keep your love for Sirius Black quiet. He barely even noticed you on a good day; you hadn’t known where these feelings had come from, yet they were very much present. It had all started when the class had been assigned a seating plan; the teacher had moved you and Black together so there was no choice on his end – he had to talk to you if there was pair work set, and there nearly always was.

There was no reason for you to socialise. You were in the same house, but he had the Marauders, and you had yours. Sirius Black was known amongst the girls of Hogwarts for being ridiculously attractive but also as a notorious flirt – it was your luck that you had a crush on the one boy who would never wholly be yours. There was the occasional overlap when it came to parties in the common room which you rarely attended but for the most part, a word had never been spoke between the two of you until this class.

At the end of the lesson, you were packing away your things, very much glad that you had a free period next so you could try and get ahead on the homework that was beginning to pile up. It looked as if you free periods and your evenings would be spent in the library trying to keep on top of the workload that accompanied an exam year.

A quiet voice next you pulls you out of the routine of packing away, “(Y/N)?”

You turn to Sirius, “Yes?”

He smiles politely at you, “Would you be able to help me with what we’ve covered? I’m struggling slightly in this subject.”

You raise your eyebrows at him in surprise. He may be a prankster, and doesn’t necessarily take everything seriously, but nobody could deny that Sirius Black wasn’t smart. All of the Marauders were.

“Really? You want me to help you?”

He chuckles, “Yes. I’m not completely understanding the context for wizard involvement within the Great Muggle War.”

You nod, “Sure, I’ll help you. When are you next free? We could meet at the library?”

“I’m free now, actually. If you have time, that is?”

“So am I. Let’s head to the library now, I know some good books that can help us.”

Sirius starts to pack his things away while you wait for him. You sigh inwardly, the pile of homework is going to get bigger, but you knew that you wouldn’t be able to deny Sirius. He’s too handsome, and your feelings definitely get in the way.

“Are you ready?” Sirius asks.

“I am. Let’s go read about Muggle wars!” You cheer.

Sirius laughs loudly. You walk together to the library, talking aimlessly to each other. By the time you arrive at the Library, Sirius has you breathless from laughter as he recalls one of the many adventures of the Marauders. From the minute you enter the Library, you know that there is an extremely high chance of you being shushed by Madam Pince.

Steering Sirius towards the right section, you start to whisper about the causes of the First Muggle War. “It had been brewing for a while, there were tensions between the countries surrounding growing militaries and navies, growing empires and such.”

“How does that relate to the wizarding world?”

“The minute war broke out, the Minster for Magic had to be alerted. Archer Evermonde passed a piece of legislation that forbade wizards from fighting in the war. It was a key moment in wizarding history. However, he Minister had to understand that regardless of what he decided, wizards would volunteer, look at Theseus Scamander.”

Sirius opens his mouth to ask another question, but he is interrupted by the rest of the Marauders.

“Padfoot! We wondered where you had gotten to!” James shouts, earning a hush from Madam Pince.

“You’ve found me.”

“Padfoot?” You ask, raising an eyebrow in question.

“My nickname.” Sirius explains.

The rest of the Marauders had joined you at table you shared with Sirius, their eyes looking over the reading material sprawled across it.

“We didn’t know you were struggling with this, Sirius. We could have helped you; you didn’t need to bother poor (Y/N) here.”

“It’s not a bother!” You almost shout, a little too quickly, all attention is now on you and you can feel the tell-tale blush make its way to your cheeks, “I mean,” you start, trying again, “it isn’t a bother at all. I love this topic, wizard involvement within both Muggle world wars interests me, I could talk about it all day. Sirius wasn’t being a bother at all asking me for help.”

Both James and Remus lift an eyebrow each at your explanation. They can completely sense your feelings for Sirius, and you want to slide under the table right about now, your heart going ten to the dozen.

Sirius chuckles, “You see, I’m not being a bother at all. You two are though, bugger off.”

Remus laughs at him, “Okay, okay. James, come on, let’s leave them too it.”

Remus pats James on the shoulder, they both start to depart with a goodbye to both Sirius and you.

Your heart rate has started to settle down, but then Sirius smiles at you and it kicks back into action again.

“Where were we?” He asks.

Checking your watch, you utter, “I’m sorry, I’ve got to go. I’ve got potions with Slughorn and I really don’t want to be late.”

Sirius nods, understanding. “Of course, can we meet again though? I like studying with you, you’re a really good teacher.”

You blush harder, if that’s even possible. “Thank you, Sirius, that means a lot. How about tomorrow evening in the common room?”

“That sounds great, see you there.”

Gathering your things, you wave a final goodbye to Sirius before heading to Potions. You would be brewing Liquid Luck today and you needed to focus, however your mind kept drifting back to Sirius. You felt like a teenager with her first crush, it seemed like Sirius had taken up your entire mind, the butterflies in your stomach fluttered every time you thought of the study session tomorrow evening. Twice, Slughorn had to pull your attention back to the class, it looked like when Sirius was on your mind, your mind went to goo.

The following day passed by slowly as if it knew that you had something to look forward to. Classes dragged and more than one teacher had to bring your attention back to the class since your mind had wandered off to what could possibly happen that evening.

You had seen Sirius once all day; at lunch where he waved at you from his place further down the table where he sat with the Marauders. “Are we still on for this evening, (Y/N)?”, he had shouted causing multiple heads to turn towards you.

You blushed deeply, “We are! I’ll see you this evening, Sirius.”

He smiled widely at your answer and threw a thumbs up before leaving the Great Hall with the Marauders.

That had been hours ago, and you were finally in your last class of the day. You were never normally eager to leave a lesson, but you had fallen into your feelings for Sirius and well, you wanted to see him even if he didn’t feel the same way as you.

Finally dismissed, you practically sprinted to your common room so you could change into comfortable clothes and grab the books you thought you may need.

You meet Sirius at a table in the corner of the common room; an intimate choice you note with the warmth of the fire wrapping you in a bubble. You also notice the rest of the Marauders not too far away, watching with eager arms – both James and Remus wiggle their eyebrows at Sirius.

“Okay,” You start, sitting down. “Where did we get to yesterday?”

Sirius beams at you, and you begin to study.

Two hours you sat there; studying for the first part of it, talking for the second part. Both of you had sat there and talked about anything and everything – Sirius asking question after question on you and your family; what were they like? Did you have siblings? All sorts was asked, and you didn’t mind opening up to him. You knew better than to ask about his family, it wasn’t a secret that he had run away from home and was living with James. However, you did ask him about his friends – what they did, how did they come to know one another.

Conversation flowed between the two of you until you couldn’t stop yawning. You decided then that it was time to wrap things up.

“I’ve really enjoyed myself tonight, Sirius.”

He quickly agrees, adding “I feel I understand the Great Muggle War a lot better now.”

“Good, I’m glad.” You answer, tidying up your books and notes.

Sirius grabs your hand, squeezes it gently before he brings it up to his lips and presses a small kiss to the back of it. Again, you’ve been reduced speechless and blushing by the teenager in front of you – you needed to do something about that.

“Goodnight, Sirius. I’m sure I’ll see you at some point tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N). See you tomorrow.”

You pull your hand from his, and before your judgement can get the better of you, you place a lingering kiss to his cheek.

As you head back to your dormitory, you don’t see Sirius press his hand to his cheek in disbelief. His cheeks aflame with the mere touch of your lips to his skin.

Time with Sirius simply flew by. You didn’t realise how quick time passed when you were with him until you were rushing to class in the hopes of not being late. Sirius seemed to occupy your mind and your time; he could be a distraction, but you always managed to get some work done, and he helped you with topics you weren’t entirely confident on. The both of you had grown closer to the other, you had started spending time with all of the Marauders, but you were with Sirius for the majority of the time. It did nothing to help your feelings for him; they simply grew until you were fairly certain you were in love with him. At least, that what your dorm mates told you, they had pointed out how obvious it was that you both had feelings for each other and whilst you had confirmed yours to them, you believed that Sirius did not feel the same way, that he simply saw you as a good friend and study partner.

It is through one of your study sessions when Sirius interrupts your speech about wizarding society in the inter-war years focusing on the adventures of Newt Scamander and the publication of his book. He didn’t like to interrupt you, because not only did he not understand this aspect of the subject, but you got so animated and passionate that it brought out a side of you he adored, but he really needed to ask you something.

“Look, we’re throwing a party in the common room this Friday night. Will you come?”

“You’re inviting me to a party?”

“I am. Will you come?”

“I think I will.”

Sirius smiles at you, knocking you slightly breathless. Then he kisses you the cheek and you’re pretty certain that you’ve died now because his lips made contact with your skin and your heartrate hit the sky.

“Good, I’ll see you there.”

“You’ll see me beforehand, but yes you’ll see me there.” You whisper, too breathless to try to speak normally.

Friday came too quickly for your liking; you hadn’t even picked out an outfit which had led to your latest predicament - your entire wardrobe spread across the whole dormitory. It didn’t matter what your dorm mates said, you couldn’t find anything to wear and you were starting to feel like a stereotype in a bad film.

“Okay, that’s it. I’m calling it – I’m going to pick what you’re wearing and you’re going to deal with it.” Your dorm mate, Jenny states as she places her hand on the small of your back and guides you to your bed.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve known you for what? Five/six years? I’m sure, now hush and let me work.”

You’re silent as Jenny goes through your wardrobe, placing item against item seeing what goes together.

“You must really like him.” Jenny murmurs.

“I really do. It honestly started as a little crush because he was pleasing to the eyes, and now that I’ve gotten to know him… well I’m worried that this could be it for me. That one great love all your books go on about.”

Jenny throws a blouse in your face, “You love those books, don’t hate on them.”

You laugh at her, feeling more at ease now than you had felt all day.

“Here you go, wear these and if he doesn’t kiss you by the end of the night, then I’ll hurl my romance books out of the astronomy tower.”

“I’ll hold you to that, I hope you know.”

She presses a kiss to your cheek, “I know, now get changed, I’m going to sort out my makeup.”

You change into the clothes that Jenny had chosen for you; figure hugging maroon flares that you didn’t realise you owned, with an airy white blouse that when tied at the front, showed enough of your stomach to not make you entirely self-conscious.

When Jenny returns from the bathroom, she wolf-whistles and you contemplate throwing a show at her. She links her arms with yours and you head down to the common room, where you can hear music start to play.

You didn’t know parties would be so warm; it explained why so many got drunk at these things. Not just for pleasure, but to also cool down. Sirius had met you not long after you entered the common room, he kissed your cheek and complimented your outfit. You had thanked him, blushing all the while. You had wondered when you were going to get a grip in such things.

Music was playing, drinks were flowing, and you were enjoying yourself. You found yourself dancing with Jenny more often than not. You had danced with Sirius a couple of times, but he kept getting pulled away somewhere else. You had to admit it annoyed you, but he was the one throwing the party.

Deciding that you had had enough of dancing, you head back to the drinks table and grab yourself a drink that was definitely more alcohol than mixer. Jenny sidles up next to you, shouting over the music, “I think you’ve caught his attention.”

You grin widely, the alcohol taking over “Do you think?”

She nods, “He hasn’t been able to take his eyes off you all night.”

You feel giddy, elated. “I really like him.”

Jenny nods, “I know you do. He’s coming this way though, so maybe tell him, and not me.”

Jenny takes you by the shoulders and turns you around to face Sirius from where he’s walking across the common room to you. Jenny is still holding your shoulders when Sirius’ attention is pulled away from you and onto another girl. Jenny is also there when Sirius and the mystery girl start to kiss.

The breath is knocked out of you, Jenny’s hands slip from your shoulders, and you make your escape. Only just managing to get to your dorm room before starting to sob mercilessly.

Sirius pulls away from the girl immediately. His eyes search the room for you, but he can’t place you. He does find you friend Jenny watching him from the drinks table.

“Where is (Y/N)?”

“She left, Sirius.”

“Why? What happened? Is she okay?”

“I don’t think she is; she saw you kiss that girl.”

“Shit.”

“Shit indeed, Mr Black.”

“I didn’t kiss her, she kissed me.”

Jenny places a hand on Sirius’ arm, “It isn’t me you need to tell that to. She really likes you; I have never seen her this way about a boy before. Please be kind.”

“I will. I really like her as well, I’ve never felt this way about a girl, the last thing I want to do is screw this up.”

“I’m going to go check on her, I’ll see you later Sirius.”

Jenny leaves, while Sirius stands at the drinks table, planning out what he needs to do.

The rest of the night passes in a blur of tears; Jenny is there holding you through it, offering tissues and dramatic retellings of her romance books. Sirius tries to talk to you, but Jenny goes to the door, telling him it would be best to let the alcohol wear off and speak with sober minds. He understands, and he leaves.

The week after the party is emotional hell. All you want to do is fall back into your routine from before and sit with Sirius, but you simply couldn’t. he had cornered you in the common room one evening, “I need to talk to you, (Y/N).”

You whisper, “I know.”

“Please let me talk to you,” Sirius whisper, his voice breaking, a hand partly raised as if he wants nothing more than to grab your hand and keep you there.

You draw back, “Not yet, I need a little more time.”

He nods, the hope that had been flickering in his eyes dimmed slightly. He moves to one side, letting you pass. His heart breaking that little bit more with each step you took away from him.

You were dreading class; it would be an awful class; not the subject matter but the tension between you and Sirius. It had been more than a week since you had a proper conversation, since you had properly enjoyed his company without a worry. He had tried to catch your attention on several occasions, but you just weren’t ready – Jenny had fought for him, stating the plain fact that you would have to face him sooner instead of later.

Conversation in class is attempted on his end, but all you can see as you look at him is him kissing that girl. The class passes by slowly, your need to speak to your Professor increasing. You almost shout in glee when she dismisses the class. You do not miss how quickly Sirius gathers his things and leaves.

“Professor?”

“Yes (Y/N)? What can I help you with?”

“Why did you sit me next to Sirius?”

“What do you mean? Are you not happy with your assigned seat?”

“Yes, and no.”

Your Professor nods, “I see what’s going on here. Sirius asked me to change the seating plan a few weeks ago.”

Your mouth drops open in shock, “He asked you to do what?”

“He asked me change the seating plan – he asked to be sat next to you. He argued that it was because you would be a good influence on him, and I agreed, but you could also tell that he harbours some feelings for you.”

You stay silent at your Professor’s words. She nods, “I understand now, his feelings are returned, I see. This is interesting.”

“Thank you Professor for letting me know.” You gather your books and bag, ready to go. You needed to have a conversation with Sirius, and you needed to have it now.

“No problem, (Y/N). Hope everything works out.”

“Thank you,” You rush, “I hope so too.”

You run back to the common room; hoping to catch Sirius there. As luck would have it, upon your entering the common room, you catch sight of the messy-haired teenager, sitting on his own by the fire. He looks up as you enter, as if he knew that it would be you to enter through the portrait. He averts his eyes quickly though, and it hurts. It hurts you because you feel utterly to blame for the breakdown in relations between Sirius and yourself; he had started to open up to you, become comfortable with you and you drew away, and left him hanging. It seems you hadn’t just broken your own heart.

“Sirius?” You murmur, walking over to the boy who has had your heart for two years.

He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t leave either. There’s a million things running around in his head – you hurt him by pulling away, by avoiding him. You never gave him a chance to explain what happened at the party; that he didn’t kiss that girl, that the minute she had kissed him, he pushed her off and started to look for you. Only to find out from your friend that you had left, that you had seen what had happened.

“Sirius, I came to apologise. I’ve been a bit of a bitch if I’m honest.”

His head whips around to you, his grey eyes now focused solely on you. “What?”

Fiddling with your fingers, you say “I came to apologise. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did, I shouldn’t have pulled away. You have these walls and when you’re with the Marauders, they’re down and they had started to come down with me and you were beginning to open up and then everything happened. At the party, when I saw you kissing that girl, I just lost it. Sirius, you have to understand, I have had feelings for you for a long while now and seeing you kissing that girl when we had grown so close, I got jealous and I got upset. You have a reputation, Sirius, and I thought that you would only ever see me as a friend, as someone to help you with schoolwork. I didn’t even let you explain your side of the story. I spoke to Professor just now to ask why she had sat us next to each other, and she had told me you asked to be moved to be next to me, and everything clicked into place. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you the way I did though, and I am so sorry.”

Sirius is silent for a few minutes; taking in everything that you’ve just thrown at him. You sit down next to him on the couch and watch the fire.

His voice is hoarse when he starts to speak, “I do have a reputation, but since spending time with you, I have only wanted to be with you. I didn’t kiss her. She kissed me, that’s what happened. I was on my way to find you, to speak to you when she pulled me to her and kissed me. I pulled away immediately, I didn’t want her, I wanted you, I wanted to kiss you. Once I had gotten over to you, your friend Jenny had told me you left and that you had seen what happened. When I got to your dormitory and you wouldn’t answer me, I thought I’d talk to you in class, but you ignored me. When you did talk to me, it was so formal, I thought we had moved past that. It hurt, I feel silly for confessing it, but it hurt. I’ve got feelings for you too, and to see you revert to what we were like before, I was crushed.”

“I am so sorry, Sirius.” Your voice breaks on his name, your eyes shining with unshed tears.

“I’m sorry too. I feel like we could have avoided everything if we simply spoke to each other.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. However, that girl who kissed you without permission has a well-fashioned hex coming her way.” You frown, not happy with the idea of someone forcing themselves onto Sirius.

“Now that is something I would pay to see.”

“Can you forgive me, Sirius?”

He looks at you startled, “What?”

“I’ve been a fool, a complete fool.”

“As long as you’re my fool.”

You laugh through the tears that are now falling freely. Sirius pulls you to him, places his hands on either side of your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears. You place your hand on top of his, keeping it pressed to your cheek.

“Sirius, I’m not sure if you know this, but I’m about 99% sure I’m in love with you.”

He smiles down at you, a blinding smile. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but I feel the same.”

“What do you say? Shall we try doing this the right way?”

“I really like the sound of that.”

“I do too.”

Sirius dips his head, and his lips are pressed to yours. You fit together seamlessly. If you could bear the stormy weather, you could bear it all.

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