#yumi snapped | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

organised-disaster · 3 months ago

Text

Aight @baxieblur-turnip and @randosfandos y'all know the drill here it is

SNOWBIRD: CHAPTER IV

I stare at the ceiling. It's quite nice. Wood panels. Inoffensive. I count the scratch marks in it, then the proper holes.

I've just nicked it more than I've actually hit it. I don't especially try when I throw my knife. It used to be Otto's. I feel bad launching it at the ceiling, but it's what I do when I'm bored.

I retrieve it from my drawer. I flick it open and close a few times, running my thumb over the dimpled texture of the green handle while I study the ceiling. I can almost see the shape of a face...

I throw the knife up into a blank spot. It makes a tiny scratch. Not enough force. It sails back down into my hand. I catch it easily, the blunt side of the blade slotting seamlessly between my fingers.

Again. It thuds into the ceiling, between the boards, and I almost think it's going to stay there. It slides out, however, rotating to be blade-first. It pierces the pillow next to my head. How unfortunate.

Again. A thunk can be heard as it stays put. I stand to retrieve it, my bed creaking in protest. The ceilings are not especially low, but Otto's knife is easily within my reach.

It comes away too easily. Not enough force, once again. I stay standing instead of lying down again. I look at the knife in my hand.

I could stop. I could stop damaging the ceiling over and over again, and I could stop blunting the knife. I should stop.

I am only breaking things. No, not even breaking. This is nothing.

This is just more purposeless damage. I am just stabbing the ceiling, the ceiling that can not die, or feel it at all. This is an exercise in futility. I am satisfying nothing.

The sound the knife makes as I personally drive it into the ceiling is very satisfying indeed.

I step off my bed, landing silently on my floor. I allow the knife to say in my ceiling. I don't need it, anyway. I have other, much sharper knives. Better knives.

I pass my empty wall. The spot with four holes in it as if something was once displayed there stares into me, accusing me. I face it, staring back. I blindfold it by displaying Sera's gift. Yumi's warm, grey eyes now bore a hole into my skull, but it's a marginal improvement.

I shut the door quietly behind me. I don't care about the noise I make, but I don't need to be loud. It would feel too small.

My footsteps echo in the empty hallway. There used to be photos in this house. Filling the walls. There also used to be laughter.

The one photo left sits alone on the mantle. I know what it looks like, of course. I wasted many days staring at it.

Yumi is approximately seven. My mother is desperately trying to keep a hold of her, obviously tired but still smiling. Yumi is wearing a large grin, several teeth missing, as she seems to yell and reach toward the photographer.

One of her hands is pushing my mother's face to the side, slightly squishing her smile. My father is holding me, smiling at my mother and Yumi rather than the camera. I look grumpy.

It was taken in winter, so we are all wearing warm clothing. I look adequately cared for, with a knit beanie and fluffy green jumpsuit covering all of me but my face. My father's puffy jacket is an equal green. Yumi's brown sweater matches the one our mother is wearing. Yumi had to be wrestled into that sweater.

It's a lovely, lively photo, full of warmth and happiness. It reflects nothing of what we are now, though. It's almost like looking into a broken mirror.

You know what's supposed to be there, what it's supposed to look like, and it just doesn't. You can tell what it was. You can tell what it did. And it will never be what it was again, even if you fix it.

It's far more complicated than a broken mirror, though. We've lost all but two of the pieces, and one is so dirty and scratched that it's functionally worthless. We don't even have the glue to put those two pieces back together.

I hate the year-old girl in that photo. I hate her dissatisfied frown and barely visible black hair. I hate her chubby, tiny, tightly balled fists. I hate her innocence. I hate her ignorance.

I'm not looking at the photo now, though, so there is nothing immediately in front of me to hate. At least until I reach the mirror. But I already know what I look like. I will just ignore myself, like always.

I wash my face for the third time today. I should apologise to Sera. I should also never speak to Sera again. I should also lie down in the sand and wait for the ocean to claim me.

It's unclear what order I should take those actions in. Logic states that the ocean will take up far more of my time than begging for Sera's forgiveness and exit from my life.

I do not like logic. It is normally against me. I don't really want to talk to Sera right now, either. I don't want to talk to her, full stop. She'll come to me, talk to me, convince me to talk to her. She always does.

Of course, the Reaping is soon. I have several hours to kill. Normally, I'd spend this time with Sera. It would be tense, and there would be something inherently sad about it, but we would have each other. And that would be how we held each other together.

But not today. I won't lose this. I don't lose. It isn't something I do. I don't need Sera. I need her like I need a gaping head wound. I need her like I need the knife in my ceiling. Gods, I hate that knife.

I hated Otto's urgency as she pressed it into Yumi's hands before pressing an equal kiss to her lips. I hated my father's soulless eyes as he dropped a box of Yumi's things on my lap. I hated the message at the bottom of that box.

I hate that message.

I twist the tap violently enough that it must have bruised my hand. What a shame. The tap drips for a moment, then realises it's done with its job and ceases. The ensuing silence is decidedly agitating. It is broken by the sound of the door creaking open.

I will not look in the mirror. I will not acknowledge who is staring back at me, and I especially will not acknowledge who is behind me. I bring my hands behind my head, gathering my hair into one area.

I make sure to keep my eyes closed. I slide my hairband off my wrist and wrap it once, twice, three times around my ponytail until it is tight and stays in its place just behind where my head curves. I drag the towel across my face, mildly hoping it'll miraculously turn into steel wool.

I push past the man with the unshaved face and uncombed hair. I do not speak to him. He has missed his chance. He lays a hand on my shoulder.

The father makes some semblance of an attempt to speak to his daughter. The daughter coldly brushes away her father's hand.

My gait is not hurried, but most would fall behind. I don't know where I'm going. I suppose I'll find out when I get there. More people are around now. Most of them are Peacekeepers.

Preparing for the yearly slaughter, of course. It's a miracle Annie won the last. The poor girl snapped like a twig the minute Moor was beheaded. I don't blame her.

We were... not friends. Never friends. I knew her. It wouldn't be right to say that I know her. But we interacted, and I didn't hate her. She's how I knew him.

I remember how she trembled in the chair she looked too small in when her other friends rushed in to wish her luck and comfort her. He would have loved to, but mentors aren't allowed to.

I don't envy her. Or him. Nothing good came of their victories, aside from the food parcels for District Four. He's off in the Capitol being treated like an object, and Annie is... hopefully still breathing.

Perhaps I should visit her. There was far too much screaming coming from her house in Victor's Village for a woman who lives alone the last time I tried to check on her, though. It's best that I stay away.

Seth is about her age, I believe. They've never once held a conversation, but Seth has a way of speaking without his voice. He is very regular with his visits to her.

He looks almost identical to his sister. Messy blonde curls that spill easily into his eyes and tie themselves into knots around his ears, dulled-gold irises, a constellation of freckles across his nose and cheeks, a solid, strong build. One of their very few physical differences is his facial hair, which isn't much more than some thicker patches of fuzz at the moment.

I'm told he's very handsome by his many fans. I don't see it. He's just a male version of Sera, so feasibly I should be able to see it, but it just doesn't appear to me. Perhaps it's his lack of everything that I find sweet about her. Sera's face in my vision every day for almost two decades could have warped my perception of what "good-looking" is...

Most people assume Seth is mute or deaf or both, but he turns when someone talks to him, and he responds with a mumble or vague noise if I ask him something.

Seth is... strange. He's oddly fascinated by seaweed and the like, wasting all his free time poking at samples of it pulled up of fishing trips. He doesn't feel anything until it's applied tenfold, and even then, it doesn't appear to bother him. He'll just stare at people if they talk to him.

He talks to his friends the most. They adore him. It's understandable, with his inexplicable odd charm. It was easy to assume at first that they were just acting like they liked him because they found it funny.

They're genuine, though. They gather, the five or so of them, without him occasionally. I once walked past them as they were talking, and he was mentioned many times.

They talked about how odd it was that he knew so much about seaweed, but changed it immediately by talking about what he knew and how interesting it was. They discussed if they should bring Seth along to an event, mainly debating if he would enjoy it. One of them mentioned a rock Seth had given him, holding it out and praising it.

I don't consider myself jealous. It made me wonder for a moment if that was how the people who knew me talked about me when I wasn't present. I felt relieved for a moment. I am not one to try to deny facts, however.

I'm not blind. I saw the glares Seth's friends gave me.

One of them was Otto's younger brother, Oswald. She had two, him and a boy named Fayrouz, who's now about thirteen. He hates me now, but I would sometimes see him when Otto came over to talk to Yumi.

I remember her fairly well, although I didn't know her as greatly.

Otto loved green and wore a lot of it. Mainly deep sages, but I'd occasionally see her wearing an almost blindingly lime shirt. She was one of the fishers and had the build to match. Her burnt umber skin was lined with scars, especially her hands, and her whole body rippled when she flexed.

She had distinctly sharp features, much like the Esthel twins. Unlike them, though, her caramel-colour gaze could easily cut diamond. Her face was also more square, drawing attention to her high, ever-bruised cheekbones. She would always wear her black, curling hair in a low ponytail.

Oswald and I talked a little then, while our sisters were busy with their schoolwork and their gossip. He's a nice enough guy. Or, he used to be, anyway. He has a lot of friends. Sera is one of them.

He's very fond of her. She's ushered me out of her house so she can talk to him before. It makes sense. He detests me, and Sera likes him for some reason, so she keeps us separate.

Mechi sometimes brings up how Ozzie being alone with Sera doesn't bother me, but them being alone does. I don't really have anything to address that. I can't really take him seriously, I guess. I know I'll never have to worry about Sera preferring him to me.

He looks just like Otto. His hair is curlier than hers, and he keeps it cut short, but very similar. His eyes used to have her same piercing quality, but now they smoulder when I look at him. He didn't use to try to look like her.

It's for the opposite of the reason I keep my hair long, I'd imagine.

When Yumi died, it was like his older sister had died all over again. But at least there was someone he could rightfully blame. He likes it when we're partnered together in training. Especially when weapons get involved. He never wins, but he doesn't care.

Yumi's swap was considered "a shock" and "a display of friendship." Mine was called "a tragedy" and "unjust" and "stealing."

Otto loved Yumi deeply. And then Yumi was called, and Otto couldn't imagine life without her. So Otto took Yumi's place without a moment's hesitation. Yumi was comforted and consoled, and Otto was mourned as a dead woman.

Yumi cared for me. And then I was called, and Yumi felt that I was her responsibility. So Yumi took my place without a moment's hesitation. I was scowled at and disregarded, and Yumi was mourned as a loss.

It's not unfair, not exactly. Yumi was all kinds of excellent, but Otto was different. Colder, but still as caring. Less patient, but still as willing to listen. She gave solutions when presented with problems.

I remember her voice being smooth and warm. Much like someone else's. I didn't cry at her funeral, either. Rumi Erudite doesn't cry.

There was so something so utterly tragic about Otto.

It doesn't matter, not anymore. She's dead.

Ah. So my destination was the beach. Logical. It's nice this time of year. Victors will often stop here on their tours.

I don't feel anything when I sit down in the sand, just ahead of where the waves lap at my feet. I don't want to get saltwater on these shoes. And I don't like the way the waves move. I don't like the way they're getting closer to me.

Some part of me laughs at that. They're waves. They can't be malicious. They can't be cunning. They can't be evil. They can't... hate...

I shake that away and shuffle further up the beach.

It would be nice if I could feel what I felt three hours or so ago. It would also be nice if I could describe that feeling. It's childish that all I know is that I feel it with Sera, childish that I know nothing of my own emotions.

I wish my appreciation of the sunsets and sunrises wasn't linked to Sera. I wish my best memories didn't involve her. I wish that I didn't feel short of breath when she laughs.

I wish, I wish, I wish...

How childish. How naïve. How old am I, really? That I'm stuck wishing and hoping and whining? I hate that. I hate it all. I hate Sera.

I stare out into the ocean. I normally try to identify the boats on the water, but it's all been put on hold for the Reaping. The ocean surface is empty. It's slightly odd. It's very much non-standard, but it isn't alien.

It's sort of like when the birds all fall silent and leave the skies when a storm is brewing. It's not like it isn't normal. It's just not a good sign.

No boats means a child of District Four dies.

I remember when Sera would come home from storms. If she was caught in one, it'd be because they blew in before they could react. I'd wrap a blanket around her shoulders as she laughed about how she had been thrown overboard and hauled back on more than once.

I've noticed a pattern with Sera. Every time something bad happens to her, she just... starts joking. It's like she can't take it seriously. She refuses to acknowledge her own injuries. I'll usually have to drag her over to Cod. The only time she's taken herself there was when she accidentally cut off part of her ring finger while chopping carrots, and even then, she still tried to deflect it as okay for about thirty seconds. She worries me sometimes.

One night after a storm, Sera didn't laugh. She knocked on my door and waited where she would normally just let herself in. Even when I answered, she just stood in front of the door, dripping wet from the pouring rain with her head hanging. I could barely hear her when she asked to come inside.

I wonder if it's possible to purge memories. The ones after Yumi's death are all blurred. Those aren't gone, though. I want them gone entirely, so I wouldn't even know that I was remembering them strangely.

Alas.

The ocean's calm, at least.

"Rumi." I jump slightly. The newcomer's soft voice surprised me, somehow so much louder than everything else. I glance at the sky instead of her. The light's changed. I have no idea how long I was staring out at the mostly-flat ocean.

I identify her by the stitching at the hem of her shirt as I turn to watch the ocean again.

"Figured I'd find you here," Mechi says vaguely.

"Yes, well..." I respond, equally non-specific.

There is more silence. I assume Mechi is admiring the sea.

"You made her cry, you know," she says after a few minutes.

"Okay." Mechi sighs.

"Showed up on our doorstep," she furthers.

"Okay." Mechi shifts next to me.

"She was bawling her eyes out about how she upset you. She blames herself for every little thing you do, you know."

"That seems like her problem."

"Gods, Rumi, don't you care? You're her best friend," Mechi says, irritated. I finally turn to her so I can glare at her.

She's exactly as she always is. Blank. Mechi does not show her emotions much. It's not deliberate, I don't think.

"Why should I care about what Sera blames herself for? Why should her issues be mine, too? When did I agree to that?" Mechi flexes her hands.

"When you became her friend, that's when," she says, maintaining her composure. I turn away from her. Mechi sighs again. "It's sort of difficult to calm her down when she gets like that, you know." I do know. I've known Sera for longer than she has. I hate it when people act like they know her better than me.

"She loves contact, yeah?" Mechi continues. "Likes having her hair fixed, likes being hugged, likes being held. She loves to have somebody wrap their arms around her." Mechi pauses for a moment. "Affection. From someone she trusts. That's all she really needs."

There's another long pause between the two of us.

"To make her feel safe again. You know how it is."

She's saying all that like she did it. That's all oddly intimate for someone who's just her friend. Mechi's not close to her like I am. I'm the only one who's allowed to do things like that. That's what I do with Sera, not her. That's ours, not hers. And I don't like what she's implying with that snarky little last comment. The sand crunches in my clenched fists.

"You're too cruel to her. You're on a good path to lose her, you realise." She really thinks she knows what she's talking about, doesn't she? "I can tell when she's upset. I can tell when she's scared. I know how she gets when you get angry."

Oh, of course. Because Mechi knows everything, apparently. She acts like this sometimes, like she's the smartest person in all of Panem. She acts like she's so much better than me.

Sera doesn't "get" anything when I'm angry. She knows it's not really her fault. It's not even directed at her most of the time. I always apologise to her afterwards, too. I hate to see her upset. Which I recognise better than Mechi.

Mechi doesn't have any right to assume things about me and Sera. She knows far less than I do. And she's making me angry. I bet she's doing it on purpose so she can lie some more and say that I'm always like this. Fine then. If she wants me to be angry, I'll get angry.

"Really?!" I snap at her. She doesn't flinch. "You really have the audacity to say that?! I've known Sera for fifteen years! You've known her for - for not even a third of that! Do you think you're even remotely capable of knowing her like I do?! Do you really think that you - "

"She says you scare her sometimes," Mechi says levelly, cutting me off. "She says you aren't really yourself."

I don't scare Sera. We're friends. She's not scared of me. She knows me. Maybe... maybe once, years ago, I did scare her, but we talked about that! And besides, she'd tell me if she was afraid of me. She wouldn't tell Mechi instead. She wouldn't hide her feelings from me. She wouldn't betray me like that.

I know Mechi's lying. She's doing it to make me angry. Sera would never betray me. Sera would never say that I'm not myself. She knows me. She knows who I am. She's the only one who does.

Mechi is a liar.

"You've got an excellent tactic right now, actually," she says, still daring to speak. "You're absolutely awful to her, then you tell her you care about her and act so sweet about it." How dare she. How dare she. I'm not. I'm not anything she says I am. I'm nothing she says I am. She's everything she says I am, if anything! She's the -

"What, are you just going to sit there and get redder?" Mechi prods. She's waiting for me to come to any kind of a conclusion on my own. I have a conclusion for her. I have so many conclusions for her, and right now, a lot of them end in her blood decorating the sand.

"You don't know anything about us!" I shout, going in the least violent direction. "I care about Sera! More than you ever could! And I -"

"You're doing such a great job manipulating Sera, Rumi."

She's so pretentious. She's so smug. She's so proud of herself. She thinks she knows me. She thinks she knows Sera. Sera is my friend, not hers. Sera spends the most time with me. Sera is mine.

She's mine, all mine. Mechi should give in. She's mine. She's not Mechi's, she's not Tyra's, she's not any of those stupid boys', she's definitely not Ozzie's. She's mine.

"That's why she's afraid," Mechi says, so quietly. I must have said all that out loud. I don't care. It's true. She knows it's true. And she knows she's lying.

Something breaks. Some restraint I was keeping, it's gone. She thinks she can say all that. All that without consequence. She thinks that because she's just oh so important, she can do whatever she wants.

I wasn't raised to take disrespect like that. I wasn't trained to tolerate attitude like hers. And I won't.

I strike her, hard. It knocks her over, and she cries out. I stand. She rubs the side of her face. She looks up at me. Where have I seen that expression before..?

I don't care. I don't care.

"Stand up," I snarl. She's afraid. She's cowering at my feet. She didn't expect to be hit.

Something tugs at me, at the back of my mind. I ignore it. I demand that Mechi stands up again. This time, she obeys. I hit her again. It doesn't... do as much this time.

I hit her with just as much force. I think.

I punch out at her again, but she brings her guard up and blocks it. I am abruptly reminded that Mechi has had nearly identical training to me. She sends a violent blow into my cheekbone, causing me to tear up.

I punch her in the teeth on my rebound. Her hand instinctively flies to her mouth. I take my opportunity and kick her knee, knocking her down.

I bring my own knee violently into her face.

It doesn't occur. So I bring my own knee violently into her face.

Don't I? She's at the perfect angle for it. It would probably break her nose. So I bring my own knee violently into her face.

But I don't. I stand. Useless. Mechi looks up at me. She swipes the back of her hand across her mouth, stepping up and away from me. Her face softens.

"I can tell you aren't trying," she says quietly. She doesn't even have a lisp. "You don't really want to hurt me. You're just angry."

"Shut up," I hiss. There's a good, cold fury in my voice. Mechi's expression is one of pity.

"You only did that because you hate that what I said was true."

How many times do I have to tell her? How many times do I need to bruise her? How many times do I need to split her lip?

She is a liar. I love Sera. I don't hurt her. I hate hurting her. I don't mean to. I mean it every time, and I regret it so much more every time. Something in me always whispers that she deserves it. Something in me is wrong. Some part of me is broken.

I must be doing something stupid with my face.

"You need to go talk to her. She loves you, Rumi. And you keep on breaking her heart," Mechi says, her voice weak and wavering. I mishear what she says next. I must've.

Because otherwise, Mechi just said that Sera is going to die.

Mechi wipes one of her eyes.

"I tried to talk her out of it. She said she didn't have a choice." Something icy spreads in my chest.

"She's rigged the Reaping, Rumi. For you. It's going to be her. I don't know why. She could have done anything else." Mechi is lying. Again. She must be lying. She must be. The ice creeps up my spine.

"Does she have a death wish?" I demand, although it's more desperate and pathetic and on the verge of tears than actually demanding. Mechi laughs, cold and hollow.

"Same thing I asked her," she mutters. "She didn't tell me. She just gave me this sad smile." I grab her, seizing her by the collar. The ice reaches my arms. I will not let go of her until she tells me the truth. Mechi reaches up to try to free herself, her hands landing on my wrists.

"I don't believe you," I hiss, more strangled than I would have liked it to be. It's true. I don't believe her. I won't believe her. I don't want to. Mechi shakes her head.

"It's what she told me, Rumi," she says, voice low.

My veins freeze over.

"It's my fault that she knew," Mechi says, shame colouring her face. "I overheard a guy we know, I forgot his name, bribing Papa to rig it to be you." Mechi squeezes my arms tighter.

"He accepted. Because he's shameless," she mutters angrily. "So I told Sera, because what else was I supposed to do? Let her watch you die?" she spits. Her words boil with anger and resentment.

"She got him to make it all her name," she says, some of the hate leaving her voice to make room for defeat. "He wouldn't listen to me when I asked him to just drop the whole thing."

Tears drip down her face as her posture weakens.

"He hates the Kaishurrs. He was basically being paid to kill one of them," she says. "I don't know what she's planning to stop you from volunteering, but Sera's smart. She's going to be in the Games." I release her, staggering back. I am cold. I am unnaturally cold, on this nice, warm morning.

The ocean laughs at me.

The ice does not release its horrible grip as my body starts to move. Mechi moves out of the way as the beach rushes past, the sand giving way to earth and the earth giving way to concrete.

My chest tightens. I can't breathe.

My feet carry me forward. I can't see. All I can hear is my heart hammering in my ears. And Mechi's awful words, echoing over and over again.

She's going to die. She's going to die. She's going to die. She's going to die, and it's my fault.

I can't go fast enough. My top speed is not fast enough. I am not strong enough. I can't save her. We're both going to drown.

Blood is spreading through the water like a grim plume. Rain is cutting into us like knives. I can't save her. I can't save her. I can't. I can't. I can't. I can't. I can'tIcan't. Ican'tIcan'tIcan'tIcan'tIcan'tIcan'tIcan'tIcan't.

WhyisnobodyherewhyisnobodyhelpinguswhyisshenotbreathingwhyamIuselesswhyamIworthlesswhycan'tIsaveherwhywhywhywhywhypleasepleasepleaseI'msorryI'msosorrypleaseopenyoureyespleaseplease -

A scream tears at my throat, but it comes out as a stream of bubbles, and comes back in as suffocating, surrounding water. Every desperate, sprinted step hurts. Everything hurts. My clothes feel heavy. Seawater burns my eyes and nose.

We will drown. We will drown, and it is my fault. She hadn't insisted. I had a choice. We will die. I am drowning. I am drowning. I am drowning.

I can't breathe. I can hear the ocean. Crashing waves. Dragging me down with no remorse. No mercy. No care.

Water roars in my ears. It hates me. It's always hated me. It let me feel safe for a long time, so I'd let my guard down. So it could kill me. It's docile when I see it, when the sun shines.

It shows me its true nature when it storms. It shouts at me, comes for me, hungers for me.

I fear it. Not when I am not alone. It doesn't dare touch me when I am not alone. But I know how cruel it truly is. It hates.

It consumes me. It swallows me whole and does not notice. It does not care what it is doing to me. It does not care how it seeps the life from me.

I can't move fast enough.

She comes into focus. Her face. Her head. Her mouth. The blood around her. The blood on the docks.

She turns to face me. I see her eyes widen. Through my pain and my rain and my desperation, I see her.

My arms come around her body. We fall to the ground. The solid, dry ground. I fall into blood-spoiled blonde curls and the forever poisoned scent of petrichor and saltwater and rotting wood and blood and exposed bone and desperate screaming and tear stained cheeks and regret and pain and lasting injuries and warm nights and happy embraces and death and love and loss.

I'm sorry, I tell her. I'm so sorry.

#snowbird #snowbird chapter 4 #yumi erudite #rumi erudite #sera kaishurr #otovia ossa #oswald ossa #fayrouz ossa #mechi esthel #the hunger games #yayyyy #major writing block but we did it!#this chapter felt kinda clunky while i was writing it #i mean the end bit is meant to be clunky and broken up because shes clinging to reality by a snapping thread but like #ugh idk you tell me #i like this one because. other people talk about rumi now. rumi talks to other people #we get to see how she acts without the Girlfriend Filter sera puts on her #oh right rumi has thalassophobia #no not even just sort of aquaphobia #and she lives in District Four oh boy #i mean it is sort of thalassophobia because shes not scared of water shes scared of deep all consuming suffocating water #and i mean arent we all but shes scared for ✨️trauma✨️ reasons #yay my two favourite things biased narrators and protagonists who srent actually heroes 💜💜💜#i wanted to give rumi and sera a ship name but rera is stupid and i shouldnt have to explain semi so its just 💛🖤#wuh oh thats an existing tag time to go check THAT out before i do anything #i want a ship name just to have. not to do anything with. just so i have it #okay its mostly just for black/yellow ships but im seeing a lot of md and rwby so #yay fun sera trivia! she cut off her finger!!!#giggling laughing kicking my feet #i had fun writing this but it doesnt feel as good as the other chapters

2 notes · View notes

eightmakesonebraincell · 11 months ago

Text

ateez as mafia boyfriends (christmas special)

genre: mafia!ateez x fem!reader, fluff, angst, smut, crack, brainrot and smutfest of mafia x christmas tropes

length: 13.8k

c/w: nsfw scenes - mdni, explicit language (dirty talk, swearing, insults), graphic depictions of death, violence, blood & injuries, weapons, heavy & mature themes (murder, abduction, corruption), pet names (kitten, babe, baby, love, sweetheart)

a/n: this one’s for yumi (@sorryimananti-romantic), mafia anon and everyone who’s sent in an ask about mafia!ateez before 🫶 loosely based on aammwffy but this is still a standalone fic not part two thank you for coming to my ted talk 😙✌️ merry christmas y'all

hongjoong

the stocking in your hand jerks when you suddenly feel it

it’s a black stocking that hongjoong has made for wooyoung from out of a spare shirt

there are already several other hand-made stockings hanging on nails that he has hammered into the wall of the warehouse

and this whole ‘ateez’s mob boss couple decorates the gang’s old warehouse for christmas’ shenanigan would have been cute and wholesome…

if not for the vibrator that is currently pulsing inside your throbbing pussy

��why’d you stop, kitten?” hongjoong murmurs into your ear from behind your shoulder, knowing very well the reason why is currently in the pocket of his black slacks

when you struggle to answer, he snakes the hand that isn’t toying with the remote around your waist to the front of your pants

“hmm? what’s wrong?” he asks teasingly

your knees buckle when he suddenly cups your core, pressing the vibrator further into you as he switches it to a higher setting

gripping onto his forearm to ground yourself, you’re unable to stop yourself from moaning at the feeling of his muscles rippling underneath your fingertips while he grinds his hand against you

but as soon as you feel your high approaching, it is ripped away from you

hongjoong switches the vibrator off and removes his hand

you are close to cursing him out, but the way that you can feel the hardened front of his slacks chase after your ass for friction whenever you move away even the slightest has you confident that it will not be long until he is cracking

until he begs for you

letting out a shaky exhale, you hang the stocking still in your grip next to mingi’s one; a dark, navy blue that used to be a fluffy towel, now repurposed for christmas

hongjoong passes you the last stocking but you let it drop to the ground

“oops,” you drawl coquettishly

you bend over to pick up jongho’s stocking, slowly and deliberately brushing up against hongjoong’s cock with the curve of your ass

you smirk when the friction draws out a guttural groan from his chest

a hand comes to rest just below your waist, “you’re playing with fire right now, kitten”

“looks like we need a little…water to put it out, then,” you press back against him once more

he snaps

it’s not long before the tip of his swollen cock is pressing against your entrance, his slacks still bunched around his thighs in his hurry to fuck you

he pulls out the vibrator and he shushes your whines at the feeling of emptiness by thrusting three fingers right into you

“fuck, kitten,” he mouths the side of your neck, “you’re already stretched out and ready for my cock”

your mind goes fuzzy at his words and hongjoong smirks in satisfaction

sliding his fingers from out of you, he lines the tip of his cock between your legs-

you both freeze when a loud clang resonates throughout the warehouse, like someone has hit the outer steel walls

hard.

“kim hongjoong!” an unfamiliar voice yells with fury from outside

another clang, this time closer towards the entrance

there’s not much holding the warehouse doors closed; you two weren’t exactly expecting hostile visitors

“you think we can get a round in before they make it through the doors?” hongjoong asks

“if you can cum in the next ten seconds, sure”

a colourful string of curses leaves his mouth before he pulls out of you and fixes his slacks - with difficulty, you must say - while you adjust your own clothes

just in time for the warehouse doors to fling open

“you killed my fucking brother, you motherfucking bastard!”

“who are you again?” hongjoong leans back to rest against the edge of the table while he watches you pick up jongho’s long-forgotten stocking on the floor. “you’ll have to remind me.”

numerous men stride in towards the far end of the warehouse where you two are - were - hanging up the stockings

you look away with disinterest; it’s nothing you and hongjoong can’t take care of

“kyungseok,” the man grits out, jaw clenching with irritation when neither of you show any signs of recognition. “you killed my brother, kyungtae. leader of the bluebirds.”

at his last word, it finally clicks

“ah,” hongjoong cracks his knuckles and stretches his neck lazily, “the one who thought they could touch my kitten and get away with it”

meanwhile, you step back after hanging the last stocking on the wall, admiring the row of decorations

you direct your question at the man behind you, “what do you think, kyungtaek?”

“it’s kyungseok,” he snarls

you wave dismissively, pressing a kiss against hongjoong’s jaw as you praise, “these look wonderful, babe”

you hear kyungseok yell out at his lackeys followed by a flurry of movement

hongjoong sighs, sneaks a kiss in, and then gently steps the both of you to the side out of the path of an incoming kick

“if we make this quick, maybe i can finish fucking you before seonghwa and the others get here,” he winks

then you two move

in quick succession, you use the momentum of their thrown punches to yank two men over your shoulder, one after the other

the wind is knocked out of them and you aim a sharp blow to their necks to render them unconscious

realising that close combat may not be the best idea, another bluebird member brandishes a knife to gain the upper hand

“weapons? that’s not very fair,” you purr

you lunge forward before you have even finished your sentence, catching him off guard and grabbing hold of his arm

twisting his wrist backwards, he shouts in pain as his grip on the knife loosens and it clatters to the floor

“oh dear,” you mock, your hands twisting up to curl around his throat

vaguely, you register hongjoong yell out your name

“duck!”

you barely have time to crouch, your hand yanking down the man with you from where your fingers are still wrapped around his throat, before a burly male is tossed right over your body and sent careening into the table nearby

you watch in dismay as cookies scatter onto the floor, wood splintering with a loud crack

“fuck you, hongjoong, i spent ages arranging them onto the plates”

he has the audacity to smirk in apology while he wraps his arms around the neck of another man and twists, forearms flexing as the bone gives way with a sickening snap, “sorry, kitten”

the man whose throat you have been squeezing is now limp and he sags to the floor

he’s too heavy for you to throw at hongjoong, so you settle for picking up the knife you disarmed and fling it at your boyfriend

“duck,” you tease

hongjoong rolls his eyes and drops his body towards the ground, your knife hurtling past the empty space where his forehead was just milliseconds ago, before it hits its mark and makes itself home in the chest of a man who has been sneaking up from behind

moving in tandem, hongjoong extends his leg and sweeps it along the ground to knock the thug off his feet

the man’s arms fling backwards as his weight crashes towards the ground, colliding into the christmas tree you had decorated earlier and taking it down with him

you pinch the bridge of your nose as the ornaments shatter

“oops?” hongjoong shrugs his shoulders noncommittally

stepping over the lifeless bodies scattered by your feet, you move away a little to pull out your phone

most of the bluebird gang has already been taken out; hongjoong can handle the rest himself

“hey, seonghwa and i are nearly there,” yunho’s voice sounds over the receiver

“oh,” you hum contemplatively, “is anyone else still on their way?”

“probably wooyoung. you know him, he’s always late,” he chuckles into the phone, “why?”

“can you see if he can buy some new ornaments? and pick up some fresh cookies while he’s at it”

there’s a yell and a loud thud as a body rolls to a stop just a few feet away from you

“what was that?” yunho startles

hongjoong has picked up the fallen christmas tree and is currently swinging it around like a crazed batter

“just hongjoong having some fun”

when you hang up, you are just in time to hear the loud thwunk as the tree connects with kyungseok’s temple

you’re not sure whether the splinter you hear is a result of the trunk or his skull cracking

the last bluebird member drops down dead, blood pooling out from under him

hongjoong scoffs, “merry fucking christmas”

and for good measure, hongjoong shoves an intact bauble into the man’s mouth

it’s finally silent

“now,” he turns to you, “where were we before we were…interrupted”

at hongjoong’s predatory gaze, you feel the arousal from before washing over you

he approaches you leisurely as he uncuffs his sleeves to roll them up, loosening the top buttons of his shirt, all the while undressing you with his lustful eyes

you drink up his appearance, eyes raking over his exposed chest that shines with a sheen layer of sweat

he’s in front of you now

“looks like i’ll have to prepare you again, kitten”

his fingers start to slip under the waistband of your panties when-

“heard you fucktards knocked over the cookies!”

his voice echoes throughout the warehouse before he even steps foot into the warehouse

wooyoung is fucking early.

you’re quite positive hongjoong is about to deck him through the roof

“wow,” wooyoung lets out a low whistle as he walks in to survey the scene, eyes scanning wildly over the splattered blood and mutilated bodies across the floor with an expression that appears mostly impressed

hongjoong’s clenched fists are white

uncaring of his leader’s lack of response, wooyoung continues, “when you told us the dress code was red, i didn’t think you meant this kind of red”

he approaches you two to squat down beside kyungseok’s body and taps the bauble in his mouth with interest, “rad decorations”

you watch in amusement as hongjoong’s last string snaps

“wooyoung,” he says evenly

it goes in one ear and out the other

wooyoung looks around as he asks, “can i tie him up with tinsel before the others get here?”

“jung wooyoung”

said man finally blanches

good thing too

because you don’t think hongjoong is joking when he says,

“if you don’t get the fuck out right now, you are going to become part of the decorations.”

seonghwa

“remember, as soon as i leave-”

“i need to lock the door,” you finish seonghwa’s sentence cheekily

he chuckles as he shakes his head fondly, “and if you feel like anything is off-”

“call you or hongjoong straight away,” you mimic, emphasising the last two words with the same seriousness he nags you with all the time

despite your words, your heart flutters shyly at seonghwa’s neverending protectiveness and worry for you

with his line of work, it isn’t easy for him to leave your side, much less leave you alone in the apartment

he understands though

it’s only been a few months since he found you; barely a shell of the curious, energetic and endearing person that you are now

under his careful nurturing, you have flourished and learnt to love and trust again

it doesn’t mean that you are quite ready to leave the apartment just yet for something other than a quick grocery run or walk in the park with seonghwa at your side

but it’s okay - baby steps

“i’ll be back at 6 and then we can cook dinner together,” he kisses your temple sweetly, “see you later, love”

you watch as he lingers outside the door, feet always ever so reluctant to leave

he motions for you to close the door and you know he won’t leave until he sees that you have closed and locked it

so with a final wave, you shut the door, turn the lock and then press your ear right up against the wood

he thinks you don’t know that he does it, and you won’t admit to it in fear that he will stop out of embarrassment

but you hear him whisper love you before his footsteps recede down the corridor

you have most of the day to yourself until seonghwa comes back

he had said that hongjoong was giving the gang christmas night off, a pleasant and welcome change from all the nights you fight the sleep tugging at your eyelids as you wait curled up on the sofa for seonghwa to come home

you occupy your day with little odd jobs here and there around the house, like washing the dishes and doing the laundry and cleaning the bedroom

he always tells you off because he wants to be the one doing them for you, but the small exasperated smile that he gives you every time barely conceals his underlying fondness

and then when you have exhausted the chores, you pull out a pencil and some paper and start drawing out ideas for a gingerbread house

because seonghwa had promised to make one with you later tonight once he discovered you had never tried it before

you cannot contain your excitement as the clock finally ticks to six

your little sketches lay abandoned across the coffee table as you start to pace the living room skittishly, ears perking up whenever you hear noise outside

half an hour passes just like that but there’s still no sign of seonghwa

that’s okay, you tell yourself

you understand that he doesn’t have a normal office job where he can just clock out and walk away as he wishes

sending him a quick text asking if he is on his way home, you busy yourself with lining up all the utensils on the kitchen counter perfectly parallel, just the way he likes it

the chopsticks

the spatula

the knife

the cooking board

again.

the chopsticks

the spatula

the knife

the cooking board

you glance up at the clock

it’s seven

you tap on your phone to bring the screen to life

no notifications

you try to quell the growing panic inside of you

but you cannot ignore the fact that seonghwa would usually send you a quick message when he is held up by something, especially on a day where he has clearly told you when to expect him home

what if something went wrong?

what if he is hurt?

what if he is missing?

what if he is…dying?

you take a shuddering breath as you pick up your phone again with shaking fingers

7:24 PM

the glare of your screen seems too bright all of a sudden

you press on the first contact of your speed dial, seonghwa’s name popping up, decorated with a little heart that he added himself when he first entered his number into your new phone

the call rings and rings and rings

“the person you have called is not available, please leave a short message after the tone-”

your chest heaves to force oxygen into your lungs

you haven’t had a real reason to contact him yet, not with seonghwa personally keeping you in the loop

but you don’t hesitate to press the second contact on your speed dial

hongjoong greets you with a little surprise, obviously not having expected a call from you, “hey, is everything alright?”

you fight to keep the panic out of your voice as you ask him, “is hwa still there?”

there’s some rustling in the background

“hwa? no, he left almost two hours ago”

your stomach lurches dangerously

you don’t realise you’ve let out a soft whimper until hongjoong is repeating your name over and over again into the phone

“take a breath for me,” he soothes, “what’s wrong?”

“he said he’d be back by six,” your eyes start to well with the tears you’ve been suppressing. “he’s still not home”

hongjoong curses, calling out for the others still at base

then his voice filters through the speakers again, “we’re going to look into this, okay? everything’s going to be fine. you’ve done a good job letting me know”

with reassurances and words of comfort, a promise to call you back in a couple of minutes, hongjoong hangs up the call

yeosang and jongho sidle up to hongjoong on high alert, having heard the end of the conversation

“seonghwa’s missing,” hongjoong grits out, already trying to track down the other’s phone location

san appears in the doorway to the room looking grim

he holds up seonghwa’s phone in his hand, “he forgot to take it with him”

hongjoong curses lowly, “park fucking seonghwa. i swear if he isn’t already dead by now, he will be when i find him”

he tells yunho to hold down the fort at base while he, yeosang and wooyoung trace the route to the apartment you now share with seonghwa

you are unsure how long it will be until hongjoong calls you again

what you do know is that you’re not going to sit around idly while seonghwa could very well be in danger

your mind flashes back to all those times you both stand in the expanse of his living room, coffee table pushed to one side, as he gives you what he coins the ultimate self-hwafense class

he demonstrates and talks you through both defensive and offensive stances and how you can use your size and agility to your advantage

sometimes, he hates that he has to even teach you how to protect yourself

because if it were up to him, he would be your protector forever

but seonghwa knows the dangers of being involved with the mafia and so instead, he gently adjusts your movements, gives you praises when you grasp the concept, and demands kisses when you successfully pin him down

and more often than not, his self-hwafense classes end up in giggles and laughter because there is nothing less intimidating than his sparkling doe-eyes and wide grin as he pretends to act the part of a threatening intruder

just as your fingers brush over the cold steel of the gun hidden underneath the table, your blood runs cold when you hear your doorknob jiggling

it’s not purposeful - it is hesitant, intermittent and careful

exactly how an intruder would open a door

you know you do not have a choice

you have to protect yourself

slinking slowly towards the door and positioning yourself so that the intruder will walk in with their back to you, you grasp the gun in your hand a little tighter with bated breath

the lock clicks open and you watch the knob turning to nudge the door open

your mind screams at you to run and hide as you fight every cell in your body to keep your feet rooted where they are

amongst the fogginess of fear clouding your brain, you have enough sense to wait for the perfect opportunity

…now.

with as much strength as your shaking hands can muster, you slam the butt of your gun against the intruder’s head

hongjoong’s phone vibrates in his hand and he answers the call within the first ring

but before he can even get so much as a word out, he hears your trembling whisper

“hongjoong, he- he’s here”

“shit,” hongjoong says at the same time wooyoung steps harder on the accelerator, “who? are you okay? are you safe?”

“oh no,” your voice becomes harder to hear as the phone slips further away from you, “he’s awake”

“we’re close, hang in there- fuck” hongjoong punches the side of the car door when your call cuts off

wooyoung doesn’t need to be told - he floors the car

the tyres squeal as they pull up to the street of the apartment, wooyoung having just barely turned off the ignition before the three of them are dashing in and bypassing the lift for the stairs

as they reach the door of your apartment, they see that it is nudged open

a sign that cues the three of them to immediately slip out their guns

with hongjoong at the front, they barge in and point their guns at the figures in the living room

“move and i’ll blow your fucking brains out,” he commands

“hongjoong?”

said man falters

that’s not your voice

“the fuck?”

of all things he was prepared for, this was not one of them

because seonghwa is in the living room

sitting on a chair nursing a very bruised head with a sorry bag of frozen peas pressed to it

but it is very much seonghwa, alive and kicking

something on hongjoong’s face must show how much he wants to skin the man and feed him to the sharks because seonghwa grimaces and makes a very poor attempt to break the tension

“surprise?”

wooyoung loses it and keels in on himself with laughter

seonghwa gestures weakly with the hand that is not holding the bag of peas at the inconspicuous paper bag sitting on the kitchen counter, which is looking slightly sad and saggy after he quite literally crumpled on top of it, “i bought donuts?”

when hongjoong exhales the longest sigh known to mankind, pinching the bridge of his nose, you completely understand how he feels

“they’re shaped like reindeers and elves…they’re limited edition…” seonghwa’s voice trails off and you see him visibly wilt like a sunflower in a cave

because as much as he knows and is sorry for making you and the gang worry, he had rushed to line up at that donut shop you have recently fallen in love with because he thought surprising you with the cute christmas donuts would make you smile

well, surprise you he did

it’s not everyday you knock out an intruder, only to find out that it’s actually your boyfriend

“i’m sure they are very cute, hwa,” you tenderly replace his hand on the makeshift ice pack so that he can rest his arm, “thank you”

and you really do mean it

seonghwa perks up at your words and snakes his arm around your waist, tugging you closer until you are basically sitting on his sturdy thigh

he looks haughtily at the other three men, “at least somebody appreciates them”

and then he lets out a yelp as his hands scramble to catch his forgotten phone that hongjoong has tossed at him

“i’ll let you off the hook this time, park seonghwa, but only because it’s christmas and i have better things to be doing. we all do,” the leader makes a move with yeosang and wooyoung to leave

but he seems to think better of it because hongjoong whips around to make one last biting remark

“they better be some fucking good donuts, the best fucking donuts you’ll ever eat”

you and seonghwa dissolve into giggles once the door slams shut behind the trio

“how’s your head feeling now?” you take the bag of peas off and gingerly touch the red bump

“much better,” his eyes twinkle, “all it needs now is your kiss”

you blatantly turn your nose into the air and stand up to grab the bag of donuts, “no kisses. that’s for scaring me”

he grumbles indignantly under his breath like a five year old; nose scrunched up, lip jutted out

you laugh, presenting the bag to him and watching as his demeanor immediately brightens

“well, let’s find out if these are the best fucking donuts we’ll ever eat”

seonghwa opens the bag excitedly, having made it very clear that he wanted to do the honours and present them to you

but then he freezes, mouth opening to form an ‘o’

and then his shoulders sag once more

seonghwa wails

and it all makes sense when you peer into the bag

“the donuts are all squished!”

yunho

“J, can you take a look at my sniper? i think something’s wrong with the scope”

you dog-ear the page of the file you’re scanning through to look up at yunho

“i’m pretty sure i know the least about scopes out of everybod-”

“cause i can’t seem to take my sight off you,” he waggles his eyebrows at you with an overly-smouldering gaze as he leans oh so casually against the doorframe

you swallow the insult that is about to leave your mouth, instead, undoing the dog ear and dutifully continuing from where you left off

unfazed, yunho steps closer towards your table with an excited bounce, “want to see my gun? i’ve got a pretty big one”

you hum, “i’ve seen it plenty times, nothing new”

his eyes crinkle at having received a reaction, which spurs him on further

yunho leans down a little into your space so that you are forced to look up at him, “then can i put my gun in your holster?”

you finally laugh at the crudeness of his words and you hate that he looks utterly pleased with himself

(you don’t really hate it, but you know that he loves flustering you)

(you can pretend if it’s for him)

“remind me again why you’re my boyfriend?”

“cause i shoot my load into you,” he flirts, complete with a wink, finger guns and then a flying kiss that you pretend to snatch out of the air and slam against the ground

immediately, he looks like a puppy whose tail you have just stepped on, so you reach out for his hand and tug him closer with another laugh, turning your body so that you can bury your face into his stomach and wrap your arms around his waist

one of his arms naturally slides over your shoulders to encase you, his other hand running through your hair the way he knows you like it

“what do you want, you big puppy,” your voice comes out muffled

yunho may have claimed you as the J to his PB, but you think he is better nicknamed BP than peanut butter

BP as in Big Puppy

“i miss you,” he admits

you pull away and shake your head, “you see me every day, yunho. we work together”

“yeah, and i’m sick of work cockblocking us,” he says with finality

yunho swipes your files to the side in one smooth motion, clearing the table as he easily lifts you by the waist to perch you on the edge

you barely have time to complain about the files until he is pressing his lips against yours

“i miss you,” he repeats when you break apart to take a breath, “and it’s christmas. relax”

“you talk too much,” you say, grabbing his tie and pulling him in for another kiss

his large hands settle on your waist, just below the hem of your shirt

your back arches from sensitivity when the fingers of his right hand slip under your shirt and slowly trail upwards towards your chest

his other hand snakes behind you to splay across the pretty arch of your back

you loop your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair for purchase

a stuttered moan escapes your lips when he shifts and his thigh brushes against your core

“you like that?” yunho grinds his thigh against you once more, eyes dark as he watches your face contort with pleasure. “bet you’d like to ride my thigh until you cum”

you’re about to hook your legs around his waist when there’s a yell from the doorway

yunho immediately retracts his hands and you rush to tidy the appearance of your top, both of your heads snapping towards the door

wooyoung is there, body already turning back the way he came from with a hand blocking his own view, “can you guys get a room or close the door at least?”

“or you can stop walking in on us,” yunho suggests with a red face

but the younger is already out of earshot, too busy prancing through the rest of the base announcing, “PB&J are fucking in the office again, nobody disturb them!”

yunho rubs the tips of his flushed ears and you pepper one final kiss along his jawline before you bend down to pick up the scattered files from the floor

“don’t tell me you’re going to read your stupid files again,” he groans

“well, reading these stupid files happen to be direct orders from hongjoong,” you retort

“then good thing i’ve already asked him for permission to take you out today”

he snatches the file from your hand and tosses it haphazardly onto the table, quirking an eyebrow teasingly

“what do you mean?”

yunho grabs your hand, leading you towards the door as he tells you excitedly, “let’s go on a date”

and that’s how you find yourself wrapped up in yunho’s coat over the thin sweater you slipped on because nobody told you that you’d be fucking freezing your ass off on the open rooftop of a building on christmas night

it had taken all but three seconds of stepping out onto the rooftop for a shiver to descend through your body from head to toe

“this is a date?” you had groused

yunho had then immediately taken off his coat to wrap around your shoulders as he made a pleased noise of affirmation

“then do tell me why you took your sniper along,” you sniffle a little, compliantly allowing yunho to button you up. “you want me to tell you how sexy you look while you shoot someone through the head?”

yunho grins down at you

“you think i’m sexy when i snipe people?”

you roll your eyes at his selective hearing

(you think he’s always sexy)

at your playful shove, he reaches into his pockets to pull out a pair of earplugs for you

“put them in,” he tells you before you can even ask what they’re for

when you make no move to do so, he gingerly tucks your hair out of the way so that he can put the plugs into your ears

watch me, he gestures with his hands

and then he is perching along the edge of the rooftop, setting up his sniper in front of him and adjusting the scope as he looks down the sight into the far distance

you watch as he applies pressure to the back of the rifle with his broad shoulder, as his slender fingers curl around the trigger, as he closes one eye and exhales a slow breath

then he shoots

you think that he is going to get up and finally tell you what he is doing, except he pulls the bolt back to chamber a new bullet and adjusts the angle of his rifle

and then he shoots again

you catch yourself staring at the veins running across the back of his hand and the way his finger flexes around the trigger

because you know all too well how it feels for his finger to flex in…other places

you lose count of how many times yunho pulls the trigger - at one point, he even reloads a magazine

he has almost finished the second round of bullets before he finally appears to be satisfied, scrambling up and dusting off his knees

with an eager tug once you have taken out your earplugs, he brings you to his sniper that he has left in its place on the floor

“look through the scope!”

you are careful to ease yourself down into a mimic of yunho’s earlier pose, knowing that even the slightest of nudges can displace the target by miles

hovering behind you, he shifts from foot to foot, waiting for you to see it

and when you do, your eyes nearly fall out in surprise

“yunho!” you exclaim, unable to fathom what you are seeing

because yunho has shot a fucking heart shape made out of bullet holes into the side of an abandoned building

“is this meant to be romantic?!”

contrary to your tone, you don’t think you have ever found your deadly 6’1” sniper boyfriend to be more endearing than now

he preens with the widest smile on his face, “yeah!”

you stand up with a matching smile of your own and step closer to pull him into a hug

“i don’t think i’ll be forgetting about this christmas for a while”

“you better not forget about it ever,” he threatens with a harmless tickle to your side

“thank you,” you tell him sincerely, “i love you”

he peppers your face with kisses, “i love you too”

distantly, you hear the sound of sirens, no doubt the sound of gunshots having been reported

“i guess that’s our cue,” he grins, stepping away from you and slinging the sniper over his shoulder

“our cue to do what?” you allow him to lace his fingers through yours

“our cue to fucking leg it”

and so with his hand warmly encasing yours, laughter bubbling out of your chests and cheeks flushing as the first flakes of snow start to fall, you both make a run for it

yeosang

“get some napkins, snacks, cooking oil and maybe a couple of drinks if you can carry it all”

you listen while seonghwa lists off the things you need to get from the shops for the christmas party

it’s nothing huge - just a get together between you, your older brother, hongjoong, and the rest of the ateez gang

yeosang sidles up to you to ask, “ready to go?”

as you smile with a nod and lean into him, hongjoong narrows his eyes from where he’s sitting on a chair

it seems like the two of you have gotten quite…close recently

not that you two weren’t already close before

and granted, hongjoong was the one who raised hell to ensure yeosang followed you everywhere as your bodyguard

except you and yeosang are getting a little too chummy for his liking

but then you’re giving seonghwa a quick goodbye peck on the cheek and you are turning around to look at your brother with that damned smile of yours to ask if he is coming along too, and hongjoong thinks that he’s just looking into things a bit too much

“yeah,” hongjoong gets up from his seat, “let’s go”

once your little trio makes it to the mart, you decide to divide and conquer the items on seonghwa’s shopping list

you’ve just grabbed a packet of napkins when someone suddenly tugs you down one of the aisles

the squeal of surprise that comes out of you quickly turns into an exasperated laugh seeing that it’s just yeosang

he’s looking at you with his sparkling eyes and expectant smile

“you’re hopeless,” you tell him because you know exactly what he wants

“hopelessly in love,” he corrects you, still waiting with an eager expression

you hiss his name and frantically look around to make sure your brother isn’t around before you relent and press a chaste kiss against the corner of his lips

yeosang immediately blushes and tries to hide the smile on his face like he didn’t literally just kidnap you into a shopping aisle demanding for kisses

you always find his bashfulness endearing though, so you rest your hands on his shoulders to balance on your tiptoes and quickly pepper several more kisses over the apples of his cheeks, the tip of his nose and the sharp of his jawline

“i don’t think santa needs rudolph this year,” you tap his nose affectionately, “you’re much brighter”

as you watch yeosang grow even redder at your statement, you wonder how this is the same man who will move heaven and earth to protect you

“y/n? yeosang?”

hongjoong’s voice is frighteningly close and you’re pretty sure he is just in the next aisle over

grabbing the first thing that you see, you clutch the item and the napkins to your chest and walk out to meet your brother

“there you two are,” hongjoong frowns, “what took you two so long?”

you reach out and touch his elbow in apology, “sorry, joong. i needed help finding the plastic plates”

except hongjoong doesn’t think you two are very sorry at all, because not only did he pay, but the backpack stuffed full with the shopping bags is now on his back

“why am i carrying the backpack,” he complains, looking at you and yeosang already mounted on the latter’s motorbike

yeosang smiles innocently and jerks his head back in your direction, “i’ve already got a cute little backpack”

“well that cute little backpack also happens to be my sister so shouldn’t she sit behind me- hey!”

you press yourself closer against yeosang’s back, both of you breaking out into laughter as he revs his bike and leaves hongjoong behind in the dust

your brother flips the bird at your backs, grumbling colourfully under his breath as he twists the throttle on his own motorbike to catch up to you two

and for someone who prides himself in being an observant mafia boss, it takes hongjoong many, many days to belatedly realise that plastic plates were never even part of the shopping list

yeosang gently takes your helmet from out of your grasp and tames an unruly strand of your hair that has become ruffled as you two walk back inside, bypassing seonghwa hanging a wreath on the front door

the eldest watches you two for a moment, seemingly in thought, before he picks up something else to hang up

that’s how, when hongjoong arrives a few minutes later with the shopping, he runs into seonghwa fixing mistletoe to the doorframe of the kitchen

“mistletoe?” hongjoong questions as he places the bags onto the countertop, “the fuck for?”

seonghwa shrugs vaguely, “the couples”

“the only couple i see is the couple of losers over there”

hongjoong stares pointedly into the living room, where san is starting to wriggle under the weight of the ornaments balancing on the top of his head and shoulders and hanging off his ears and fingers, courtesy of wooyoung who is currently yelling out stay still!

except the ornaments all come tumbling off in a flurry of movement when yunho thunders past them, mingi in tow

“snowball fight!!”’

it’s not snowing heavily but there’s a layer of snow thick enough for all nine of you to stumble outside in glee

and as it turns out, yeosang is very serious about his job as your bodyguard

even during snowball fights

jongho and yunho have formed some sort of alliance, so by an unspoken agreement, pretty much everyone else has teamed up in hopes of defeating the formidable pair

(no one’s entirely sure which side mingi is playing for, but he’s having fun scooping handfuls of snow and dumping them onto people, which is all that matters)

hongjoong is busy fending off wooyoung’s snowballs - another person who has broken the unofficial alliance - so yeosang stays close to you

he alternates between adding fresh ammo to your snowball pile and blocking any snowballs that are thrown around

it doesn’t matter if they’re thrown in your direction or not; if yeosang sees a snowball, then he is ready to keep it far, far away from you

somehow, amidst all the chaos, yunho manages to unearth a whole slab of snow that is still intact

he cackles evilly as he lifts it above his head and hurls it somewhere into the centre of the whole group

now, the deadly snow slab is nowhere even close to landing on you

but again, yeosang takes his job as your bodyguard - and boyfriend - very, very seriously

he makes a dive in your direction to take the hit and the angels up in heaven blow their trumpets in celebration when he knocks you over instead and you two fall into the snow together

he lands on top of you, arms bracing himself as he encases your frame underneath him

you’re a little winded - the breath has been knocked out of you, you want to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, and also yeosang looks extremely stunning

you can see every single snowflake that has fluttered down and clung onto his long lashes and soft hair, and it certainly doesn’t help that he’s looking at you with the most tender eyes

“merry christmas,” he murmurs with a smile, “i love you”

the sounds of snowballs breaking and consequent screeches mute themselves into the background, the crystal petals falling from the sky blurring in slow motion as yeosang dips down to capture your lips in a gentle kiss

one of his hands cradles your face gingerly as you sigh into the kiss, almost as if he is afraid you will melt and seep into the snow

jongho is about to take the opportunity to pelt yeosang’s exposed back with snowballs, but pauses his deadly pitch when he sees that the older is actually a little…preoccupied right now

he realises very quickly that not only have you two caught his attention, but you’ve also managed to grab hongjoong’s attention

said man squints his eyes at who he thinks is yeosang and…you?

you’re both awfully close together in a heap on the ground and hold the fuck up are you two kissing?

right before hongjoong can rub his eyes and take a closer look, a snowball is smashed to smithereens against his face

hacking snow out of his mouth, he searches furiously for the culprit, eyes landing on jongho who is staring right back at him with his hand still pitched forward from throwing the snowball

why jongho looks flustered, hongjoong has no idea

but it’s not like hongjoong can take on the younger anyway so he chooses to ignore the snowball and looks back in your direction

…where you and yeosang are both lying on your backs making snow angels

hongjoong frowns, rationalising that the kiss had just been a glitch in his imagination

because surely he would’ve noticed ages ago if you and yeosang were indeed dating

seeing as the leader shrugs it off and drops to the ground to shovel an enormous snowball with renewed vigour, jongho lets out a sigh of relief

that is

until wooyoung very helpfully points out, “why are yeosang’s lips all glossy”

you and yeosang freeze mid-snow angel

like zombies in a horror film, you and yeosang slowly sit up with unease creeping through your bodies as you both look towards your brother

his back is turned, body eerily still

most of the other members have also frozen, snowballs still clutched in their hands as their knowing pupils waver

then mingi also helpfully tacks on, “it looks like he kissed y/n or something”

at his words, hongjoong’s arms start to move again

he does not turn around yet, simply hums and says, “interesting”

yeosang nudges you with an elbow and theatrically whispers, “if we leg it right now, do you think it will notice”

it starts to stand up from its crouching position

“...i think it will, yeo”

hongjoong finally turns around and you can see that, similar to yunho not too long ago, he is carrying a huge slab of intact snow in his hands

what’s different is that hongjoong is most definitely not smiling

you have a feeling that he is going to be putting a new definition to snowball fight

hongjoong approaches with his snow weapon

“snowballs?” he shakes his head mockingly with a frighteningly blank expression

“after today,” his gaze drops down pointedly towards yeosang’s nether region, “no balls”

san

you don’t need to rely on your past experience working in an underground casino for you to know what the odds of your current gamble are

you are a mouse walking into the lion’s den

the last time you were with crescent - the mafia gang you had been brought into and was supposedly your family for almost a decade - you were wrongfully accused as being a traitor and had nearly lost your life

now here you are, walking back into crescent’s base with your own two feet just a mere few weeks later

and yet, you are not afraid

your former gang does not know, but tonight, you are the dealer of this poker game

minsu, crescent’s mob boss, leers at the sight of you entering the small building

they do not have many affiliates, having kept their numbers small over the years, but most of them have gathered together for drinks tonight

you already knew this, though

you have chosen to confront them on christmas for a reason

“ahh, merry christmas, darling,” minsu drawls saccharinely, “has santa answered my wishes for a personal slut?”

his words do not register in your ears when your eyes involuntarily flit over to the back of the room

there’s a face sitting in the corner that haunts you

the day you were labelled a traitor, you had been accompanying your capo to make a trade deal with a relatively new gang

the boss of the gang who is currently sitting in the same room as the rest of crescent, comfortable smirk on his face like he wants to show you that he is where he belongs

you realise now that it was a set-up all along

there was no deal to be made and there was no emerging gang

it was - is - crescent against you

looking back at minsu now, you address him, “why did you betray me”

he pretends to look appalled, one hand perched daintily against his chest as his jaw drops

“we saw the way you were getting closer to choi san of ateez,” he spits out san’s name, “and after you betrayed crescent during the trade, you ran pathetically to his doorstep like a damsel in distress, which only proved our suspicions”

he states it so believably, as if your loyalty wavered and led to your own inevitable downfall

it’s all bullshit though

you and san have never interacted outside of the negotiations your gangs made with each other

without anywhere to go after crescent had backstabbed you, only then had you sought san’s help

“so what are you doing back here, darling?” minsu stands up

he stalks closer towards you with fake pity plastered across his face, “to beg for forgiveness? to beg for us to spare your little boyfriend’s life?”

the flicker of fury inside of you is quickly growing into an inferno at minsu’s mocking tone

but before it starts to consume you, a new voice enters the fray

“i don’t think we’ll be the ones begging by the end of the night”

a figure steps in and you hear the sound of metal buckles scraping against the ground as a limp, bloodied body is also dragged along

the person comes to a stop beside you before they toss the body in their grasp carelessly to one side

the familiar lilt of their teasing reaches you

“hey, sweetheart”

the inferno inside you smothers itself out at their words

“choi san,” minsu snarls, hackles now raised at the unforeseen addition of his presence

the rest of crescent also seem to become restless, shifting on the edge of their seats or making a move to stand up

because they’re not foolish

they know san’s reputation for ruthlessness, particularly when someone has wronged him

and by extension-

more footsteps resound behind you

-the rest of ateez

you may be a mouse walking into the lion’s den

but when you have poachers behind your back, it becomes your den

minsu’s face finally drains of all blood when he realises the deep shit he has landed himself in

and so do several others, it seems

you wince slightly in embarrassment when a handful of his men scramble up from their seats and push past the ateez members surrounding you to run out of the building

for a moment, no one dares to breathe as they watch you and ateez with trepidation

san simply raises a brow as his eyes narrow with disinterest

the sounds of the cowards’ feet striking the pavement once they make it out onto the street are suddenly replaced by the crack of gunshots and the distinct thump of flesh falling to the ground

from somewhere up high, yunho chambers another bullet as he stares down the scope of his sniper with impassivity

“anyone else want to give that a try?” san taunts

no one answers

hongjoong finally emerges from the flanks and almost immediately, the already-frigid atmosphere drops another several degrees

“a gang of members who have no qualms betraying their own will only end up destroying themselves eventually,” he calmly approaches minsu, who shuffles backwards in response

hongjoong continues, “as much as crescent isn’t worth my time, i don’t really feel like waiting for that day to come”

before anyone can react, he swipes a glass bottle from one of the tables and swings it across minsu’s head

the latter stumbles backwards in shock with a hand flying up to stem the blood flow coming from his temple

ateez do not need a further command

all at once, the members jump forward bloodthirsty for vengeance, save for san, who grabs a chair that mingi has quite literally tossed a person off and brings it over for you to sit on

he winks as he quips, “we’ll probably be on santa’s naughty list this year, but maybe if you just watch you’ll get away with it, sweetheart”

san knows you can hold your own in a fight, but he also knows that your ribs are still sore and bruised

so he waits until you sit with a laugh before he turns around to face the others

he doesn’t really care about most of the crescent lackeys

he knows hongjoong and the rest of ateez will wipe them out fine

who he really cares about is that bastard who pretended to lead the fake gang

and that motherfucker minsu

san is going to make them regret hurting you

san is going to make them wish they were never born

he advances towards them with deceptive calmness

minsu is slumped against a table, still licking at his wounds pathetically

he’s only alive because none of the members have bothered with him

san leaves him for the time being and takes out a dagger as he advances upon the nameless member who had duped you

easily evading the man’s frantic punch, san responds by slamming the hilt of his dagger against the other’s temple

the man goes crashing down and minsu tries to scramble away from them in fear

“i would cut your tongue off, since you spew so many fucking lies,” san grips the man’s jaw hard enough that his fingers turn white, “but i don’t want to touch your filthy mouth”

instead, san drags the dagger across the gang member’s throat

blood rapidly gurgles out of the wound as the man’s fingers make futile attempts to grasp san’s hands, but very quickly, he attempts to stem the blood flow instead

but a fence can only hold a dam back for so long

san shoves him aside and lunges for minsu

“your turn,” san smirks

whipping out his pistol, san flicks the safety off and shoots minsu’s hand as the latter lets out a primal shriek of pain

san shoots again, this time at his other hand, once more, through his calf, once more, through his stomach

minsu swears to the high heavens in between wails and howls, begging for san to stop

“what did i say,” san places a foot on his stomach wound and pushes down, “it wouldn’t be me or my sweetheart begging tonight”

minsu’s animalistic cries are silenced with a final gunshot

san exhales and makes his way back to where you are still seated to reassure, “you’ll never have to worry about crescent ever again”

“thank you, san,” you sink into his embrace

you’ll thank the rest of ateez later, but for now, you focus on the man in front of you

“i said that i would protect you, didn’t i, sweetheart?”

he gathers your face in his hands and thumbs the round of your cheeks sweetly

you nod in his grasp, blinking up at him through your eyelashes

“i want to kiss you,” san suddenly confesses, “can i kiss you?”

a teasing smile tugs at your lips, “it’s christmas. shouldn’t you kiss me under a mistletoe?”

san looks up to check, as if he really thinks that a mafia gang’s base would have mistletoe hanging from the ceiling

when he confirms that indeed there is not, his eyes wander around the room for a substitute until something appears to pique his interest

you watch as he unsheathes another dagger from his belt and points it in the direction of minsu’s body

“i can cut his foot off,” san tells you with determination, “then we’d have a minsu-toe”

amidst the last of the fighting amongst the room, someone overhears and chortles at san’s words

“i can’t believe you,” you let out your own laugh

“so…” san beams, “is that a yes?”

“fuck the mistletoe,” you laugh as you pull him forward, “just kiss me already”

and kiss you he does

mingi

for the first time ever, you think you hate the snow

even if it’s christmas eve today and it’s the first snowfall of the year

you had been prepared for a peak in business at your little bar, the mist, but with the sudden onset of heavy snowfall and a rapid drop in temperature, you’ve barely had any customers

admittedly, you are used to slow business considering there is a much larger bar, the chilli peppers, just across the street

but not even your few, regular customers have shown up today nor for the past few weeks

you’ve scanned the outside of your bar several times already, each time unfruitful as you are met with an empty street save for the falling snow and soft glow of the streetlamps

sighing, you decide to look out once more before making yourself a mixed drink when you spot a figure walking up to your doors

your breath hitches when you recognise who it is

it’s him

the handsome stranger who, you suppose, is not really a stranger anymore

it has been almost two months since he first took refuge in your bar while being chased by another gang

his visits since have been rare and infrequent, but they will always span late into the early hours of dawn when he does

“hey,” mingi softly greets you as he steps into your bar, a shy smile adorning his face

your stomach flutters as you stand up from your stool, “mingi, hi, hey, i wasn’t expecting you to come today”

you internally cringe at your own words

you hope he doesn’t pick up on the connotation that you wait for him to come on other days

he peers around hesitantly at your words, “should i, uh, go?”

one of your hands reach out in his direction before you even realise what you’re doing

“no- i meant,” you lick your lips, “it’s a nice surprise”

mingi’s shoulders relax

“i heard some areas lost power because of the snow,” he starts to explain, “so i thought i’d come to check on you- your bar”

your heart grows warm at his seemingly nonchalant words

fighting back a blush, you gesture around your bar, “well, i still got power-”

just as it fizzles and dies

the steady hum of the heater in the background of your bar also halts, creating a world of both darkness and silence

startled, you jump slightly

you can hardly see him in front of you as your eyes struggle to adjust to the gloom, yet mingi’s hand naturally finds your searching ones

he slips your smaller hand into his, gently squeezing and rubbing a thumb over your knuckles as he soothes, “i’ve got you”

you let out a nervous chuckle, not because you feel awkward but because it feels so natural to be soothed by his touch, and he reciprocates with his own soft laugh

“well,” you look up at him, “looks like business is closed for the night”

his eyebrows knit together in concern, “are you sure? i can call someone to get your power back up and running. i know a person”

he scratches the back of his neck as he continues to ramble, “or they could probably fix your whole area…yeah that’s a better idea, wouldn’t want you getting singled out or anything”

you’re not sure whether to be endeared or to be impressed by his connections

“you can do that?!” you gawk

mingi blinks twice as if to say, you can’t?

laughing, you shake your head and pat his hand that’s still holding yours to tell him that it’s okay

“i wasn’t getting customers anyway,” you reassure

selfishly, mingi is glad that you weren’t busy

because it means that he can have you all to himself

“do you want to stay for a bit?” you offer, “it’s probably not safe to leave with all the snow”

mingi is a member of a mafia gang

snow is the least of his worries

but he nods solemnly in agreement anyway

he thinks that his heart cannot squeeze with any more fondness at your concern until you carefully tug him forward by the hand to lead him up the stairs at the back of your bar, murmuring that there’s another step and the doorway’s a little low

it doesn’t matter that you’ve seen him being pursued by other gang members, or that he smells like gunpowder and has a pistol hidden on him - you still look out for him and mingi has to fight the urge to pull you into a hug

instead, he grips your hand a little tighter under the guise of not knowing where he should be stepping

in reality, he wants to make sure that he can keep you steady should you be the one to trip

usually, when the power cuts out like this, you will simply bury yourself under your covers until you fall asleep

but it seems like it’s a common occurrence now - when mingi is by your side, sleep is easy to forget

so you take him to the small room you’ve leased above your bar and it is as though you have both rediscovered the innocent joys of life

hushed giggles are shared as you rifle through your storage and take turns lighting up the stubborn candles you have found

you nudge him as he nudges you back over where to scatter the candles around the room for maximum brightness, both of you falling into another bout of laughter when a particularly hard nudge ends up snuffing the candles in your hands

mingi takes out his phone and creates a playlist of cheesy christmas songs that he lets run in the background

grabbing your hands, he twirls you around the cramped space of your living room as you flush with joy

you shyly let him lead you through his silly little dances, but very quickly, you are both spinning and jumping and swaying barefoot to the music as the candle flames flicker in tandem all around you

the excitement teeters off slowly as the playlist transitions to slower instrumentals and you realise that without the heating on, your room is starting to become freezing

mingi is first to notice, attuned to the way a quick shiver racks your body

“come here,” he says, arms already moving before he can think better of it

he grabs the blanket that covers the back of your small couch and throws half of it over himself, one arm extending the rest of it so that he can wrap it around your form too

mingi slowly rubs his hands up and down the sides of your arms as he shuffles the two of you over to sink down onto the couch

you have to remind yourself to keep breathing, even as his every touch leaves behind a trail of goosebumps and electricity

“better?” he asks after a while

untrusting of your voice, you nod instead whilst clearing your throat, trying not to chase the feeling of his embrace when he retracts his arms from around you

silence falls upon you two

it’s not uncomfortable

but with the lack of noise to distract you, you are acutely aware of his close proximity and the warmth that he emits from your side

“it’s pretty, isn’t it,” he muses, gaze focused on the falling snow outside the window

“it is…”

…with you here

“you know what they say about the first snowfall of the year?” he nudges you softly

you chew on your bottom lip

shyly, you offer, “that if you confess your love it becomes true,” at the exact same time mingi says-

“that you shouldn’t eat the snow for the first hour or two”

you quickly cough and splutter out a question to cover up your statement, “h-how come?”

“the snow absorbs all the bad stuff in the air when it first falls”

the grin on his face makes you think that he may have heard your answer after all

slightly embarrassed, you avert your gaze and fumble for something to say

mingi saves you though

he points at the clock that has just ticked past midnight

“merry christmas, y/n,” he says tenderly

“merry christmas, mingi”

you relish in the moment, not wanting this night to end

“did you have anything you wanted for christmas?” you ask him

he hums in affirmation, slowly mulling over his next words before he answers, “there was someone i wanted to see”

he’s looking ahead, and from where you’re sitting next to him, shoulders brushing with each slight movement, the warm glow of the candles accentuates the sharp slopes of his side profile

you’ve noted this before, but in this moment mingi is beautiful

“did…did you get to see them?” you’re unsure why you’re holding your breath in anticipation

he doesn’t answer straight away

there’s a beat of silence

then he’s slowly turning his head with a gentle smile

“yeah,” he breathes out, looking at you with his soft, round eyes, “yeah, i did”

with your rosy cheeks and bashful expression, mingi cannot help himself

he confesses

“and i still am”

wooyoung

wooyoung very naturally reaches across the counter with the barcode scanner so that he can align the laser with your id badge

he hums happily as your employee discount is applied to the bag of chips he is purchasing

at this point, you don’t even bat an eye

he has long made himself at home in your convenience store whenever you work the night shift

“so,” wooyoung says as he finishes ringing up the price, “why are you working on christmas eve?”

you tilt your head, confused

“why shouldn’t i be working on christmas eve? and why aren’t you working? don’t you need to manage all your lackeys at the boxing rings?”

“no? because it’s christmas eve? everyone takes the week off,” he frowns as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world

you didn’t realise the mafia celebrated christmas too

apparently you say that out loud, because he is suddenly crossing his arms

…a little too defensively for you to take him seriously

“i didn’t know you were the mafia police,” he grumbles, “you gonna pull out a handbook and tell me that section 3.2 bans christmas for the mafia?”

you chuckle as you attempt to appease the childlike fire in his eyes, “sorry, you guys just seem like-”

you think better of your words and pause

“seem like what?”

“nothing”

“what? tell me what you were going to say!”

he pounces on you, attempting to bite your forearm as you squeal and relent

“you guys seem like the type to beat santa up, not celebrate his existence”

he stares at you

you stare at him

“you have three seconds to run,” he tells you

and run you do

filled with glee, you dash out from behind the counter and weave through the narrow aisles in a circle, wooyoung hot on your heels with his own matching shrieks

you both collapse in a fit of uncontrollable laughter when he suddenly switches direction and you end up running straight into his arms

sitting on the dirty floor of your convenience store during the quiet hours of night, your eyes teary from how hard you and wooyoung are laughing, you do not think there is a better way to spend your christmas eve

“i get paid almost double for working today,” you explain when you have both settled back behind the counter, sharing the bag of snacks he paid for earlier

you toss a chip in the air for wooyoung to catch as you continue, “plus, i can’t just take holidays when i want to”

it bounces off his forehead and he fumbles to catch it before it hits the ground

“why not?”

“because my boss won’t let me”

“oh. that’s it?”

“tHaT’s iT? shut the fuck up,” you shove a chip into his mouth as he sniggers

he excuses himself to make a quick call, so you take the opportunity to finish off the remainder of the snacks

hah.

this time, when he walks back in and sees the empty packet, he does bite you

and he makes you buy him another bag as compensation

(honestly, he should be buying you snacks because if you’re honest, you’re pretty sure he has enough money to buy your store and the whole chain)

you’re sharing the second bag of chips - read as: wooyoung being petty and hogging the snacks - when the store is suddenly plunged into dimness for a split second

you look up, blinking as you watch the lights flicker once, twice, and then completely die out with a fizzle

there’s still enough light coming from the frozen section as the standby generator kicks in for you to make out the inside of the store and wooyoung’s raised eyebrow

then the door chimes, alerting you to the arrival of customers

…or not-customers, you suppose

honestly, you should really be used to this by now

two men saunter in with shoulders squared like they own the place

you take one look at their balaclavas and the pistols in their hands and deduce that, “they wouldn’t happen to be some of your friends, right?”

wooyoung steps a little closer to whisper back, “nope”

“well, fuck. you going to do something about them or what?”

“are you kidding me? they’ve got guns”

“you’re part of the mafia. you’re telling me you don’t have one on you?”

he has the fucking nerve to flirt with you as he flexes his arms

“the only guns i got are these bad boys”

the men point their guns threateningly and wooyoung has the common sense to pipe down, both of you raising your hands cautiously

“get in the car,” one of them snarls

wooyoung moves after a split moment of hesitation, arms still raised as he walks towards the door

he looks back at you to see if you are following along, as if you two are taking a walk in the park and not being kidnapped at literal gunpoint

you’re going to roundhouse kick his head off once you make it out of this alive

his stupid gang better be real good at finding people

the kidnappers usher you and wooyoung into the back of a car, a very nice one you must say

it’s spacious and well-cushioned

at least the trip to whatever warehouse or abandoned building they take you to will be a comfy one

the door locks click and you hit the headrest behind you when the driver steps on the accelerator

“jesus christ! can you drive any faster?” wooyoung yells

you jerk your head sideways to look at him in horror

what is he thinking, provoking the armed men like that?

the man in the passenger seat must also share the same thought, because he whips his head around dangerously fast to stare at wooyoung

oh shit shit shit-

he raises a hand

he’s going to shoot wooyoung-

and pulls off his mask

“that’s not what you were saying when you called us 15 minutes ago, wooyoung”

“san?!” you screech in recognition

“hi again, darling,” san greets you with a sweet, dimpled smile, as if everything is okay

the driver also takes off their mask and he looks at you through the rearview mirror as he introduces himself, “hi, i’m mingi!”

you are absolutely incredulous

“you staged a whole fucking kidnapping for fun?”

wooyoung looks overjoyed, “so you can enjoy christmas eve!”

you’re not sure whether you want to laugh or cry at the ridiculousness of the situation

“you do realise the police are going to interrogate me, right?”

“don’t worry. jongho has connections with the police,” san reassures you

“what about the security footage?”

“hongjoong jammed the feed so there’s none,” mingi pipes up

“my boss is going to find out when he comes to check the morning shift”

“nah,” wooyoung waves away your concern this time, “he’ll be out of commission for a solid week or so”

now that catches your attention

sighing, you pinch the bridge of your nose as you close your eyes and ask very calmly, “what did you guys do to my boss?”

wooyoung lets out a weak chuckle as he presses himself a little closer to the car door; a little further away from you

“yeosang may have, uh, knocked him out”

at your silence, he scrambles to redeem the situation, tugging at the end of your shirt for forgiveness, “we made sure to give your boss a pillow for his neck while he’s out cold!”

“you’re insufferable,” you tell him, starting to feel exhilarated from the whole situation

“just for you,” wooyoung puckers his lips teasingly

you sigh to conceal the smile that is starting to creep onto your face, but you are weak for him and he knows, so you don’t pull away when he laces his fingers through your hand

“merry christmas eve,” he beams at you

there’s the faint sound of someone gagging

wooyoung’s adoring gaze doesn’t leave you, not even as he kicks the back of san’s chair hard

you laugh, truly happy and free, “you know i’m still going to get fired for this, right?”

there’s silence

“well,” wooyoung contemplates

and for a split second, you think he is going to offer you a solution for the mess he made

but then again, what did you expect from wooyoung

“does this mean we get to spend christmas together then?”

jongho

jongho has one hand in the pocket of his slacks

his stance is relaxed, even as his other hand aims the gun at the police officers in front of him

they cower despite the abundance of money piled on the table before them and the stars and service strips that decorate their uniforms

after all, what use is dirty money and corrupt power in the face of death?

pathetic

their pleas for mercy fall on deaf ears

several gunshots ring out, followed by the thud of bodies dropping to the ground

elsewhere, you notice that it’s nearly time for you to clock out

it’s christmas eve and you are not spending a minute longer than you need to here in this hellhole

double checking that your badge is somewhere in your bag, you make a move to leave the police station when there is a sudden influx of noise

pagers beep, phones ring, voices shout

your ears perk up to catch the conversation and you hear the same few names leaving the lips of the police officers around you

the blood coursing through your veins freezes

because you know these names

these names have been burned into your brain, only recently, but still to the point where you can see them clearly whenever you close your eyes

they’re all officials in positions of high power, spending their days in air-conditioned offices and not actually doing anything apart from accepting bribes

but the thing that truly links them together - the secret that quite possibly, of the people in the station right now, only you’ve discovered through your connections - is that they are all involved in covering up the death of an officer five years ago

your father’s death

jongho and his gang have made sure that your father’s murderer has paid the price with his own life-

“all killed?!” you hear the police of chief gush with disbelief

-as have the corrupt officers who buried your father’s case, so it seems

a sense of calm settles over you

the clock tells you that it’s now three minutes past the end of your shift

the news is not a bad note to end on before your two-day christmas break

you sling your bag over your shoulder while the rest of the officers continue to speculate with nervous energy

the police force had no qualms turning their back on you years ago, so neither do you on them

you leave

when you make your way home, back to the modest apartment you now share with jongho, you are greeted by the smell of a cooking meal and the warmth of the blasting heater

you enter the open kitchen whilst removing your scarf

jongho is there in his suit, his coat slung over the back of a chair, tossing an assortment of diced vegetables into a pot of boiling soup

his sleeves have been rolled up to his elbows and you feel your throat go a little dry when the muscles along his forearm flex as he holds up the chopping board

you notice there are streaks of dried blood across his sleeves

and you would be concerned about the blood if this weren’t such a common occurrence

you know now that it’s never his own

when he notices your quiet presence, jongho turns to look at you the same way he always does whenever you come home from work

like he can never quite believe that you’re here with him after so many years apart

he greets you, smiling with anticipation, “did you like my christmas present?”

your mind flashes back to the frenzied panic at the station just earlier

“that was you?”

the smirk you receive is more than enough of an answer to your question

“you didn’t have to, jongho,” but despite your words, you walk over appreciatively into his outstretched arms

“of course i did,” he shushes you with a deep kiss as his arms wrap around you tightly. “nobody messes with my girl”

his words send a hot rush right through your body

the corner of his lips quirks as he feels you squirm a little in his hold

“cop or not,” he nudges your head to the side so he has easy access to nip at your throat, “you’re mine to protect”

you fist the front of his shirt in an attempt to hold back a needy whine, instead, letting out a shaky breath that does little to hide how affected you are

in a last-ditch effort to take control of the situation, you take a step back and reach into the side pocket of your uniform to pull out your handcuffs

“too bad this cop is going to arrest you for murder,” you joke

jongho cannot help but smile at the cocky facade you put on when your cheeks are so clearly flushed

he brings his wrists together in front of him and offers his hands to you

“are you going to frisk me too, officer?”

when you swallow, now silent, jongho continues, “i might be armed with something that could…destroy you”

a shiver of excitement runs through you and it doesn’t go unnoticed

he steps forward to close the gap between you both, one hand reaching for the handcuffs hanging loosely from your grasp

jongho pauses when his fingers touch the cool metal, waiting for you to look at him properly

you see his eyes darting between your own as he searches for any signs of discomfort or hesitation

can i?

you let go of the handcuffs so that they are in his hold alone

yes

his gaze turns predatory almost immediately

“my turn,” he rasps lowly

he flips you around so that you face the kitchen counter, grabbing your arms and holding them behind you

you are pliant under his touch, but you cannot deny that it turns you on when he is a little rougher with you

jongho cuffs your wrists together and he waits as you tug on them experimentally

you feel the flutter of his fingertips dancing around where the metal surrounds your wrists

“is this okay?” he asks, voice gentle again

you reassure him, “yeah, more than okay,” before you emphasise your words by grinding your ass back against him

he tuts with a chuckle as he stands steady behind you, allowing you to use his rapidly-hardening cock for stimulation while his hands rest on your waist

it’s not enough though

“touch me, please,” you breathe out

“please, who?” he teases, hands sliding up and down your sides but never adding any pressure

your thighs clench because you know exactly what he wants

“please, officer,” you beg

“see, that wasn’t so hard,” jongho whispers right into your ear

the buttons on your uniform blouse are suddenly undone and in one swift motion, he yanks your bra down to expose your breasts

his fingers find your nipples easily, familiar with every inch of your body, and you let out a gasp of pleasure when he pinches them

he pins your hips against the countertop with his own, clothed bulge pressing firmly into you

your cuffed hands scrabble to find purchase when he nudges your legs open with his thigh

but then all of a sudden, his heated touches and wandering hands disappear

the whine you let out at the loss of his presence is almost pathetic as you twist your head around to look for him

“give me a second, baby, i just need to,” he steps over to the bubbling pot of soup and twists the knob down on the stove, “adjust the fire”

you bend forward onto the countertop, exposing the wet patch that you are sure has started to show on the crotch of your pants

“jongho,” you start to beg again, “i want to cum”

“i know, baby, but i don’t want to burn our house down and i want to make sure i get to feed you dinner,” he strides back to you in two quick steps

“now that that’s sorted,” he turns your body around so that you’re facing him, “i think it’s time for my appetiser”

he swiftly tugs your pants and panties down, kneeling to tap on your ankles lightly, a silent request for you to step out of your clothes

he tosses them to one side before his hands come back up to grip either of your thighs so that he can spread your legs

you brace your cuffed hands against the edge of the countertop behind you

it’s not the most comfortable position to be in, but then jongho is using his fingers to spread your pussy apart and your ability to form any coherent thought leaves your body

he blows lightly on your clit, enjoying the way you flinch at the sensation

“look at you,” he drags a fingertip at an agonisingly slow pace through your folds, “already so wet when i’ve barely even touched you”

he holds you still when you try to grind down on his finger

“use your words, baby,” he grins up at you with a smug expression

“i need y-”

he cuts your words right off by attaching his lips to your clit, drawing out a strangled cry of pleasure from you

you feel the long-awaited stretch of your pussy as jongho foregoes one finger and plunges two digits straight into your hole

“fuck!” the curse slips out of you when he sucks and licks your clit in time with the thrusts of his fingers scissoring in and out of you

he curls a finger and your knees very nearly buckle from under you, your back arching as jongho groans against your pussy and continues to abuse the sensitive spot he has found

a pressure starts to build in your core

“i’m close,” you manage to choke out

you miss the moment jongho briefly removes his lips to glance to his side, replacing his mouth with a thumb to rub harsh circles against your clit, before he tells you, “not yet, baby”

“i can’t, jongho, please, let me cum,” you plead

“wait, hang in there a little longer. i know you can,” yet despite his words, he shoves his fingers up harder with renewed vigour

you almost sob from desperation, “wait for fucking what?! your dick isn’t even in me!”

“just a little longer, baby,” he reassures you as your thighs shake around him

you can’t do it anymore

you have to cum

you have to-

“cum,” he simply says, before reattaching his mouth to your clit

your orgasm rips through you and you cannot do anything but tremble and shudder under the administrations of his tongue and fingers

jongho holds you through it all, milking out your orgasm until its very last waves-

just as the timer on the stove goes off

“what the fuck?” you blurt out

your mind is still hazy from pleasure but you’re pretty fucking sure he just timed your orgasm with the stove

jongho licks his fingers with a brazen smile and then goes over to peer into his pot of soup

after he gives it a final stir, he turns the fire off completely and places a lid on the top to keep it warm

you watch, rendered speechless

except when he turns back around, you stay silent for a completely different reason

he eyes you hungrily as he strips his tie and unbuttons his dress shirt

“round two, baby”

he grabs your cuffed hands and guides you towards your shared bedroom, then fishes out the keys from your blouse

you welcome the feeling of jongho unlocking your handcuffs for a moment of rest

settling against the head of the bed, you watch as jongho fully sheds his shirt and lets it drop to the ground

he unzips his slacks and his cock springs free, the bulbous head a tantalising pink as he easily strokes himself to full erection

your pussy clenches desperately around nothing in anticipation and jongho watches your own arousal leak out

he gathers your wrists together once more and pins them above you, handcuffing you to the headboard as you completely submit to him

jongho leans over you and encases your smaller frame with his muscular build

his voice is low and teasing

“you have the right to remain silent,” he says as he aligns his girthy length with your entrance, “but i doubt you will”

2K notes · View notes

steddiebang2024 · 2 months ago

Text

I was a teenage dirtbag | Mature | 75k

Author: @hellfireloserclub

Artist: @academic-clown

Beta Reader: @kaypie91

[Link to fic] | [Link to art]

Pairings: Eddie Munson/Steve Harrington

Characters: Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington , Erica Sinclair, Dustim Henderson, Nancy Wheeler.

Tags: Slowburn, Future Fic, Year 2000, Post-season Four, Bisexual Steve, Bisexual Eddie, Comedy /angst, Long distance friendship to lovers, Radio Host Eddie, Hairdresser Steve, Wedding fic.

Trigger Warnings: Sex, Alcohol, and Recreational drugs

↳ Keep reading below for a summary!

“So…” Dustin started.

“So what?” Eddie asked, fixing his eyes on the side of Dustin’s face, trying to work out what way this interrogation was going to go.

“I don’t have my own ringtone, Wayne and Mom don’t, but Steve does?” Dustin avoided looking at him, staring at the overhead signs pointing to the short stay parking, acting like they weren’t at the airport at least twice a month with the family coming and going.

“I thought it was funny,” he said in his own defense.

“And I totally believe you.” It sounded like a question.

“But?”

“But are you sure there's not more?” someone shouldn’t look so smug as they reverse in a multi story, yet here was Dustin excelling at it. When Eddie didn’t answer he cut off the engine turning to look at him, all signs pointed to the next few minutes being incredibly uncomfortable.

“Spit it out, I have to get to the gate,” Eddie grumbled, he felt like he was under a microscope, his little brother's eyes boring into him.

“Are you sure there's nothing going on between you and Steve?” Eddie wanted to yell- yes, I just don’t know what? But he bit it down, this wasn’t the time to trigger a Dustin intervention.

“Just because you can't procreate outside of the close knit circles you were dragged up in, doesn’t mean we all have to hook up within our little friend group. You gotta stop trying to pair us all off dude, it's not cool. Remember when you used to keep trying to pair off Steve and Robin? How did that work out for you?” Eddie questioned.

“In my defense-”

“No. Say less. Stop. I broke up with Yumi two weeks ago, I don’t need you to help, I don’t need your psychoanalyzing me with Max over the phone. I don’t need you to try and set me up with a rebound. I’m a big boy alright. I’m going to Boston to get stupidly drunk with Steve, talk shit about you all lovingly, and lament the fact that both me and him are probably gonna die old and alone.” He reached over the back of the seat and grabbed his duffle bag, before reaching over and tapping Dustin on the cheek. “But look at the plus side, if me and Stevie don’t bring a plus one to the wedding that will save you two meals and a headache with seating plans.”

“You make my resolve to not meddle in both of your love lives impossible, you know that right?” Dustin asked, leaning over the center console.

“Cause you were doing an absolutely stellar job of it before this conversation?” Eddie closed the door behind him. “Dusty, I love you like you’re my own flesh and blood. But please, let this one go?”

Dustin looked poised to say something else but Eddie didn’t have time for it. “If the words curiosity journey come out of your mouth, I’m not speaking to you for a month.” Dustin snapped his mouth shut. “That’s it, save it for Applejack, I don’t want to know.”

Eddie gave the car a courtesy wave as he went through the doors of the airport, but he didn’t look back. He was pretty sure Dustin had hit the nail on the head with his observations, but as far as anyone was aware Steve was just his friend, and letting go of any control on that narrative was like letting a fox off in a hen house. It would be chaos. Although Eddie was starting to think it was a lost cause. This was so much easier when he and Steve hated each other, enemies to fuck buddies was a much easier story arch, with a lot less emotional baggage.

#steddiebang24 #steddie #steddie big bang #steddie fanfic #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanart #steddiebang24 masterpost

56 notes · View notes

isackwhy · 7 months ago

Note

Angry isaacwhy headcanons 😝😝

idk if u mean towards u or other things so i mixed it :)

angry! isaacwhy hc’s

first off, this man is a hot head (me too gang)

you’ve seen him mad plenty of times but whenever he is mad he makes sure none of it is directed towards u

like for example that pizza incident where he thought yumi or larry took his slices of pizza

he never accused u once and everytime u came up to him he’d take a deep breath and speak as softly as u could

until he grabbed larry by the legs and flipped him upside down and u yelled at him

“isaac! what the hell are you doing? stop! it’s just pizza.”

he just takes a deep breath, nostrils flared and walks back into the kitchen

he’s the eldest sibling he has a lot of pent up anger

let’s just say one of the boys pissed him off some way somehow

he’ll rant to u about it and ur able to keep him calm

not in like a “this isn’t u” bs way

u just being there helps

if he IS mad at u (very rare) he stills speaks as calm as possible, even when his voice is slightly raised or urs is

once he can feel himself getting more annoyed, he walks away. giving himself distance

he won’t say anything to hurt ur feelings but he doesn’t want u to see him that mad if it’s towards u

one time u him and nick were chilling in the living room and they started to discuss random topics.

nick poked fun at isaac a few too many times in some sore subjects and it led to isaac snapping first and then nick telling him to calm down

that only pisses him off more

“no—you’re bringing up shit that doesn’t need to be brought up—“

“you’re getting worked up over nothing, man.”

“nick, just stop,” u try and warn nick but the 2 best friends just yell at each other

they’re in each others faces and ur telling them to stop and ur scared they’re actually gonna fight

u stop the fight between them by dragging isaac away and telling him to shut the fuck up

if someone else messes w u and he finds out??

lord

he’s thinking of the worst pranks to do to them

now if someone pulls some shit in FRONT of him to u

like a girl being a bitch at a party or a karen or kevin having some audacity

he knows u can handle urself but he’s immediately telling them to cut it the fuck out and walk off

“nah. nah. we’re not doing that. no reason for that. back the fuck up im serious,” isaac steps in front of them

#tgc x reader #the group chat podcast x reader #the group x reader #the group chat podcast #isaacwhy #isaacwhy x reader #the group chat

84 notes · View notes

soloroomies · 4 months ago

Text

You, Across The Street | (a Suna Rintarou fic)

・❥・Chapter four; Year Ten (A Lesson About Life)

synopsis: At the age of five, you met the neighbor boy who lived just across the street, Suna Rintarou. As the years unfold, this story will chronicle the evolution of your friendship, year by year. But as life moves on and paths diverge, will it blossom into something more? Or will it remain a cherished bond between two childhood friends? “The lines between friendship and love often blur when you’ve known someone your entire life."

word count. 2.3k cw. childhood friends au, slow burn, middle school era, angst a/n. finally, I have time to update the story! I also have some ideas for other fics😀 Since this one is a slow burn, I'm thinking of making them too :)). Let's just see how it goes!

Masterlist

The promise you both made, though born of a fleeting moment and perhaps foolish in its spontaneity, remained sincere and heartfelt. Yet, its reliability was as fragile as glass, precariously held together by the shifting sands of circumstance. As hearts are swayed by life’s changes, what once felt certain can easily fracture and slip away.

With so many uncertainties awaiting you in the future, this might just be the beginning of how your paths will diverge.

You snapped your head towards the voice that called your name. It was Rintarou.

"Yeah?" you asked, momentarily disoriented.

You glanced around, taking in the familiar sight of Rintarou’s room. Lately, you hadn’t been able to hang out with him much because of your busy schedules. But today, thankfully, you both finally managed to find some time to chill together.

He shook his head, his eyes looking at you warily. "I said, what do you think about it? Should I just ask her out?" He leaned back against the headboard of his bed, fiddling with his hands. He was uncharacteristically nervous.

You were now at the end of eighth grade. Time had flown by so quickly, and before you knew it, middle school would be over next year. So many things had changed, yet so many things had stayed the same. Yumi and Mari were still your classmates, which made you happy, and the three of you had grown even closer. You and Rintarou also still didn’t share the same class, a constant reminder of what hadn't changed.

Some things had changed, though; biology was quickly becoming your favorite subject, you had joined the science club and were completely into it, and you’d become obsessed with snapping pics on the phone you got for your birthday—thanks to Rintarou, who definitely fueled that obsession.

Speaking of him, he’d changed too; his voice had taken on a deep, amusing tone, he kept growing taller, and his volleyball play was getting even more serious. And guess what? He’d even developed a new interest in a girl.

What did he say about having a girlfriend just two years ago?

The girl was Misaki, a fellow eighth-grader and a star player in the girls' volleyball club, which frequently interacted with the boys' team. That’s how she and Rintarou got to know each other. You’d noticed her a few times—tall, with an athletic build, and long, silky black hair that always seemed to move gracefully with her every motion, usually tied back in a practical ponytail. Her name was often on the boys’ lips, and it was no surprise. Misaki was quite the looker, combined with her warm smile and friendly demeanor that made her incredibly popular. Honestly, you had no reason to dislike her. Really. You had no reason.

You gulped and looked at him, feeling a knot tighten in your stomach. “Well, do you like her?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He crossed his arms and furrowed his brow, contemplating your question.

“Well, if liking the way she serves the ball and spikes it, is included in ‘liking’ her, then, yes, I like her.”

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head slightly. “But what about her? Do you like her as a person?”

“She’s nice, I guess,” he replied, scratching his head. “She gave me chocolates and offered advice about my blocking technique.”

He paused, then added with a shrug, “She also has nice hair.”

You nodded slowly, agreeing to him.

You tried to justify the uncomfortable feeling in your chest as envy because your friend was about to get a girlfriend while you hadn’t. But even that justification felt off. So, you pushed the feeling to the back of your mind. This kind of emotion was new to you, and you wanted to be as supportive as possible to your friend who had always been there for you.

Forcing a smile, you nudged him playfully. “Then, what are you waiting for?”

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Rintarou had asked Misaki out on the last day of school, just before spring break, and Misaki, unsurprisingly, had accepted him with a radiant smile. She confessed that she had always liked him since the first year of middle school (something you’d suspected ever since Rintarou first mentioned her). She was over the moon, thrilled that he felt the same way.

The days that followed were anything but pleasant for you. Despite it being spring break, you found yourself watching from your window as Rintarou and Misaki went out every day. Hand in hand, they strolled through the blooming cherry blossoms, their laughter heard from your house. Rintarou had excused himself beforehand, explaining that Misaki had meticulously planned their break, so he couldn’t spend much time with you. He mentioned they wanted to explore new places and learn to play volleyball together with a few clubs. They even planned an out-of-prefecture trip with Misaki’s parents (who were very supportive of their relationship) to visit a renowned volleyball club.

How nice. How perfectly fitting for the both of them. They’re a match made in heaven, really. Both of them love volleyball and were popular. You should be happy he didn’t end up with someone like Ara (no offense to her, though). Yet, you found yourself far from happy. Instead, you spent your days cramped up in your room, re-reading your manga and novels, barely seeing the sun or the cherry blossoms blooming outside.

Your mother definitely noticed your mopey behavior and had the answer too about why you were acting this way. She wanted to plan a family vacation, but your father’s work was piling up, and he couldn’t take time off. So, she planned a one-day outing with you and Hana to visit your aunt who owns a flower shop.

You were pretty reluctant at first when your mother asked you to go out one morning. You’d much rather stay holed up in your room. But when she mentioned you’d be visiting your cool Obachan, your favorite aunt, you got interested. Plus, she had this beautiful flower garden and always gave you seeds to plant in your own garden. When you were younger, you used to go there more often, but these days, you rarely went. You only saw her occasionally at your grandparents' house.

So, here you were, at your aunt’s house. Nestled in the serene countryside of the prefecture, her house was a perfect mix of traditional Japanese architecture and vibrant natural beauty. On one side of the house, your aunt had set up a charming flower shop. The shop was a riot of colors and scents, with flowers neatly arranged in rustic wooden crates and ceramic pots. Roses, lilies, daisies, and chrysanthemums bloomed in profusion, creating a tapestry of nature’s finest art. Even though she lived alone, her house didn’t feel lonely. It was warm, welcoming, and full of life.

When you arrived, your aunt greeted you with a warm hug and a radiant smile that instantly brought back memories of your younger days visiting her. Her smile was a lot like your mother’s, only with a few more smile lines, reminding you she was your mother’s big sister. She served a pot of freshly brewed green tea and a plate of homemade mochi on the low wooden table as you sat on the mats covering the floor. Soon, your aunt started sharing stories about her daily life, talking about the seasons and how each one brought a new wave of beauty and tranquility.

—-

Your aunt had a bunch of flower seedlings and bulbs all set for planting. You both got to work, digging small holes in the rich soil and gently placing the seedlings into the pot.

“You’re doing great!” your aunt said with a warm smile, wiping a bit of dirt from her forehead.

You laughed, a little bashful, and shrugged. “Thanks.”

“So, how’s life been treating you lately?” she asked, glancing over while carefully patting the soil around a seedling.

“It’s fine, I guess,” you replied, your mind drifting to the past week and Rintarou with his new girlfriend. You sighed softly, trying to focus on the planting.

Your aunt paused, looking at you closely as she brushed her hands off on her apron. “I haven’t seen you in a while! You look more mature now, ___.” She gave you an earnest smile.

You smiled back, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes, and you kept your gaze down on the plants.

Your aunt set her tools aside gently and turned to face you, her brow furrowing in concern. “And even though we haven’t met for a while, I can tell something’s up.”

Your eyes widened. Was your somber mood that obvious? You bit your lip and glanced away.

“Wanna talk about it? You don’t have to, but sometimes it helps to share what’s on your mind.” She reached out and touched your hand lightly.

You hesitated, then whispered, “You won’t tell Mama?” You peeked at your mother and Hana, who were busy arranging flower buckets at another table, unaware of your conversation.

Your aunt nodded, making a zipping gesture across her lips and miming tossing away the key. “Promise.”

“It’s just... There’s someone in my life who’s changed, and it’s making me sad,” you said softly, your voice trembling a bit. “We used to go everywhere together, but now we haven’t spent a single day together this break.”

Your aunt nodded understandingly, her eyes softening with empathy. “I get it. Sometimes, as people grow and their lives change, the way they fit into ours changes too. It’s a part of life.” She gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“But why does it have to be like that? Why can’t things just stay the same?” you asked, frustration cracking your voice as you patted down the soil.

Your aunt gave a gentle smile. “Life is full of changes, honey. People grow, and so do their circumstances.”

“Well,” your aunt continued, “one day, when you’re older, you might find yourself in a different place, with different people. You might have your own family and responsibilities.”

You zoned out for a moment, then turned to look at your aunt, taking in the garden and her cozy house. How she was now living away from your mother. They used to spend time together when they were kids, didn’t they?

“Like you and Mama?” you asked tentatively.

“Exactly,” your aunt agreed, her voice soothing. “It's a natural part of growing up. Relationships change, but that doesn’t mean they’re any less important. They’re just different. And that’s okay.”

“So, are you saying I should just accept that things will change?” you asked, trying to wrap your mind around it.

Your aunt nodded. “Embrace the change and cherish the moments you have now. It’s important to be grateful for the time you share with people and to be open to new experiences and relationships that come your way.”

You took a deep breath, absorbing your aunt’s words. “I guess that makes sense. I just need to get used to the idea.”

Your aunt squeezed your hand reassuringly. “It takes time, and that’s perfectly normal. Remember, though, even if things change, the love and memories you’ve built with people stay with you. Those memories will always be a part of who you are.”

You processed her word for a moment then offered a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Obachan. I feel better now.”

Your aunt smiled back warmly. “Anytime, sweetie.”

You continued planting together until the sun set on the horizon, casting a warm glow over the garden. After dinner, you bid goodbye to your aunt, who gave you some flower seedlings. Hana also proudly carried the flower arrangement she’d made earlier.

You were glad you decided to come out of your room today.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Today was the last day of spring break, and you felt pretty relaxed since you’d finished prepping all your stuff for school yesterday. Tomorrow was the first day of ninth grade. You sighed internally, knowing it would be way busier with all the high school entrance exam prep. You just hoped you’d get into the school you wanted.

Needing a bit of chill time, you decided to water the plants in your small front garden this morning. The seedlings from your aunt had been planted, and you were eager to check their progress every day. You grabbed the hose, turned the water on low, and started watering each plant.

As you were distracted with the watering, you suddenly noticed a pair of feet on the footpath in your garden. You looked up and saw Rintarou, smiling a little. It felt like you hadn’t seen him in forever, even though it had only been a few days. You’d see him, but not really hang out—just a wave from him as he rode his bike away or when Misaki came over to his house.

Honestly, you kind of expected you wouldn’t hang out at all this break. But here he was now.

“Hey,” he greeted you, looking a bit sheepish.

“Hey, Rin,” you replied, barely glancing at him as you continued watering your plants.

“Um…” He scratched the back of his head. “Wanna hang out?”

In the back of your mind, you really wanted to scream at him. Say something like, ‘Where’s that new cute girlfriend of yours?’ Maybe three years ago, you would have. But now, you decided against it. You didn’t want to be petty. Your aunt's words rang in your mind: embrace the change and cherish the moments you have now.

You took a good look at him—he seemed more fidgety than usual. It looked like he felt guilty? Was it because of not spending the break with you? You sighed. It wasn’t fair to make him choose between you and his new girlfriend. You’re sure if the situation were reversed, he’d be cool about it and understanding.

“Sure,” you finally said with a small smile. “Just let me finish this. I’ll ring your bell when I’m done.”

“Okay,” he answered, smiling.

“I’ll wait for you.” He stepped back and went to his house.

You didn’t know what the future held, but at least you wanted to enjoy the time you had with him now, before life took any more turns, before the inevitable changes swept you both in different directions.

taglist: @wolffmaiden, @gojoscumslut, @boogiemansbitch, @yunskook

65 notes · View notes

geordikisser · 5 months ago

Note

angst with yumi idk necessarily about what 😭😭 maybe hc or a short fic, live laugh luv ur writing ong <3

a/n: tysm!!! i’d love 2 make yumi angst, its acc been on the back of my mind -,- .. its a little poorly done but this was a concept ive had for awhile

REQS OPEN!

distance | yumi

epilogue: the honey moon phase has just about ended, you and yumi have been butting heads recently & when the idea of him moving out with the boys come up it throws you off the rails

content contains! suggestive material, gender neutral usage, & angst

♡ you wake up, sunlight drowning the walls of your room. you turn to see your boyfriend, sitting up on his phone. he notices you’ve woken up. “g’morning.” his flat tone rings throughout your ears. you merely grumble back a, ‘morning’ yourself. yesterday night you two had a small argument. you threw attitude at him due to the lack of effort & communication when it comes to trust between you two when it comes to going out. yumi is constantly on his computer recently and you’ve been busy as well and this has caused a few heated squabbles.

your chest remains heavy from last night as you get up and slip on some bottoms. you stretch out your back, grabbing yumis attention to your back. he let out a heavy sigh as he bites his tongue. “hey, i’ll meet you in the kitchen. we need to talk.” he calls out as you reach the master bath. you feel your heart drop, as if you flatlined where you stand. keeping your cool, you nod. “got it, babe.” you throw in a pet name to ensure you aren’t angry about last night, hoping he would catch onto it. you close the door behind you.

you feel your breathing becoming troubled as you stumble onto the bathroom floor. grabbing a hold of your chest quickly trying to calm yourself down. what if today was your last? composing yourself, you stand up and get ready for the day.

about 20 minutes later, you come downstairs refreshed. teeth brushed, face washed. yumi was standing at the counter leaning against it, his eyes meeting yours as you walked towards the counter. you sat at one of the free stools at the counter. you brush your hair back as you give him your full attention. “we need to talk about something really important to me. we spoke on this awhile ago. on the topic of me moving out.” loosing eye contact with you midway. you fell pale. “ok.” you sigh, shakily. your hands clenching eachother. “the guys really want to move to austin, texas sometime next month and i.. i plan to join them.” he admits as he meets your teary eyed gaze.

he sighs, defeated. “c’mon, don’t start crying. it’s 9am.” he hangs his head low. you furrow your brows. “blake you’re so fucking unreal.” you stand up and walk off. he looks up and realizes you’re leaving. “hello?? the fuck?” he calls out as he rushes after you, grabbing your wrist. you snap away. “stop. i can’t deal this shit with you right now, blake.” you said.

“a few arguments and now you want to move out??” your eyes filled with pain & disdain. he shakes his head. “don’t make this what it isn’t! this has been a plan for a long time, y/n. you know it has.” he exclaims practically. his frustration stealing his tone. taking you aback a bit. your tears escape your tears ducts as you begin to sob. holding yourself tightly cause you know he won’t. he snaps out of this haze he was trapped in and reaches out to you. “hey— babe. c’mon, look at me.” he tries to attempt gently. you shift away as you completely break down. “i feel impossible with you lately, blake. why don’t you even want to try for this.” you stumble a bit, blake catching you instantly. he holds the small of your back.

“i just don’t understand. why don’t you try for this, for us, for you.” you pull away from his hold. “it don’t know what i can say to you anymore.” you admit, a small weight from your chest lifting. making it easier to breathe. his eyes analyze you, the situation. he looks away, sighing. “i don’t what to do either.” he says softly. “i know i love you. i love you so fucking much that these arguments kill me. and they’re dead to you.” he puts his head in his hands. you sniff, crossing your arms. “i need space from this.” he admits. your eyes widen out of fear, where the big 5 words gonna come out?

you feel fear wash over your body and you look at him slowly. “is that why you want to move? to get space and away from me?” you accuse. “you don’t need to runaway from me to get space, blake.” you attempt to not say it before he does.

“it’s not that—“ you stop him right there. “no. no it’s whatever. you’ve truly said enough to me recently that i think we both just need to think.” you storm off and grab your keys and head to the front door. he chased after you. “y/n, i didn’t mean it like that. where are you gonna go??” he asked worryingly. “that’s a first, you genuinely care about what i’m gonna do?” you snap back, sourly.

“for once it’s not that fucking computer. it’s like i’m second rate to you.” you open the front door and slam it shut. you walk towards your car and begin to drive away to your parents house obviously.

yumi felt scared, after a long time of being fearless he felt fear. his eyes felt cold & he felt so misguided. was that not the best move? to bring that up now? better now than never he thought.

#gender neutral reader #tgc #tgc x reader #the group chat #the group chat x reader #yumi #yumimain #yumi x reader #bigt #isaacwhy #softwilly #larrycroft

76 notes · View notes

i4juni · 2 years ago

Text

[ 6:35 PM | YUMI'S ROOM | YUHOON ]

tw: body shaming, unhealthy diet, yumi is told to loose weight ( in an unhealthy way ) when she was a kid, crying, cursing, yumi's mom is a horrible mom, pls lmk if i missed anything !!!

yumi was exhausted.

the reason for yumi's exhaustion wasn't the usual factors: practice, interviews, studio sessions, etc. it was her mother.

she had called to congratulate yumi on her magazine shoot with vouge korea, a dream of hers since she was a little girl. her call was surprising, considering the fact she never called for anything unless she needed money. but regardless, yumi answered the call in hopes of it not turning out like all their other phone calls: in a dispute.

“im only saying that you should loose a little weight, yumi.” her mother argumented from the other side of the phone, “you won't be hired for another magazine shoot if you keep putting on more weight.”

the younger sighed, running her hands through her hair, “i put on that weight intentionally, mom,” yumi explained, exasperated, “i was getting alarmingly skinny, it wasn't healthy.”

her mother grumbled, her words barely audible, “didn't you learn anything from the years you spent modeling? skinny is what sells best.”

in that moment, yumi felt like she was back at her old modeling agency. tears were streaming down her face as her agent screamed about how she hadn't lost the weight they had told her to loose.

“but i just can't loose it!” the 10 year old girl choked out between cries, “i've tried but nothing works, unnie.”

the woman scoffed, rolling her eyes, “well, try harder. i will be calling your mother to inform her about your inability to follow orders.”

“are you even paying attention to me, yumi?” her mother hissed, “i swear, you never pay attention to me when i speak.”

yumi snapped back to reality, realizing she had been suppressing her tears all while her mother went on her rant. her head was pounding from the force of keeping her tears from falling. the pain made her dizzy, she felt like she was going to faint at any moment.

“mom, i have to go. call you some other time.”

with that yumi hung up the call, quickly throwing her phone on her bed. she stared at it for a second, taking it all in. her eyes started to well up with tears, the sour memories of her agent screaming at her about her weight rushing into her mind.

yumi had suppressed those memories, so much so, they took her by surprise. the memories seemed so fresh in her brain, it was draining. she tried so hard to not let the tears fall, but the lump in he throat and her sped up heart beat made it increasingly difficult to do so.

“fuck-” yumi whispered as a single tear rolled down her cheek, “no, no, no-” she felt the tears start running down her face, she was breaking down.

her soft cries slowly started turned into sobs, increasingly getting louder. yumi slowly walked over to her bed, where she threw herself on. grabbing her teddy bear, she hugged it as a form of consultation but the tears wouldn't stop. her cries only got louder.

“yuyu?” a soft voice called out for from her bedroom door. the younger sat up in her bed, looking over to her door to see sunghoon. his eyes met her puffy ones and his face scrunched in confusion.

“what happened? why are you crying?” he questioned, quickly making his way over to her bed and taking a seat in front of her.

yumi knew couldn't say anything without a sob escaping her lips, but tried nonetheless, “my mom called.” she whispered, tears still streaming down her cheeks.

sunghoon's face went from confused to sad, a frown forming on his lips as he scoot closer to the girl, “oh, yuyu.” he whipped the tears from her cheeks and tucked that annoying strand of hair behind her ear.

he didn't have to hear what her mother said to know she had, yet again, body shammed yumi. it wasn't the first time she had called just to bombard her daughter with unnecessary comments about her body. sunghoon had been present the first time it happened, it was awful to see how degrading the comments were. when the call ended, yumi was close to tears and him, together with the other members, had to do damage control. but even though this wasn't the first time it had happened, she had never left her daughter sobbing.

yumi stared at the older boy for a second before collapsing on him, sobbing into his chest. he let out a small gasp, the action took him by surprise. he wrapped his arms around the girl, soothingly rubbing her back, “its okay, I'm here.”

he knew she would be crying for a while, he was mentally prepared to be there for a good while but he didn't mind. he just wanted for her to feel better, it broke his heart into a thousand pieces seeing her like this. he couldn't phantom the thought of her own mother telling her those comments, knowing it tore the girl down. he only hoped that his presence would help soothing, even if it wasn't much.

author's note ! feeling pretty proud of this !! thank you to @flowerjun for beta reading this 🩷

taglist ( open ) ! @seolboba, @flowerjun, @lost-leopard-beanie

488 notes · View notes

veggiesforpresident · 4 days ago

Text

i remember one of the early episodes mentioning how you only have access to 2-3 of your senses on lyoko so. aelita getting overstimulated on earth, totally overloaded by the loud noises, smells, feelings. freaking the hell out and snapping at her friends for a while before she (or like. yumi who is prone to migraines) figures whats happening and finding ways to compensate.

#code lyoko #aelita schaeffer #show: diversity loses! your found family is french #disabling my faves and no one can stop me #disabled headcanon

34 notes · View notes

todayisafridaynight · 1 year ago

Note

*head in hands* whats the opinion on the yakuza tv series brother

i cant have an opinion on a thing when the thing aint even out yet brother

#snap chats #im lying of course i can #i saw people complaining about the kiryu cast and like. eat rocks he's fine #also i saw more people complain about the fact they're adapting y1 again and like. Eat Rocks LMAO #if they're making a tv series it makes sense to start from the beginning. sins yakuza 0.#LIKE IT MAKES SENSE TO GO IN ORDER do i have faith they'll ACTUALLY go on to adapt y2 of course not #but hell if they're going to give a live-adapt series that's more in-depth compared to the movies and stageplay #then i'll be happy to watch it. again.#plus Genuinely it'd be weird to have a tv series and then skip right to y2 i KNOW people would complain bout the lack of y1 season #so it's a lose-lose situation in that respect #i know the real reason they can't do a y2 adaption is cause they'll never find a dude as yolked nor breasted as ryuji and thats ok #stageplay ryuji was cute but i understand wanting to be more on-the-money this time around take your time rgg ill understand....#could just have a xena moment. bro could be built like wireframe but his presence is what'll sell it yk what i mean #tho... kinda hard to do when he WILL have to be shirtless at some point.... anyways...#im always stoked to see what rgg puts out SO i wonder what the tv series will be like :)#i hope yumi is fleshed out... impossible since she's literally supposed to be missing the entire game but i can dream #I JUST WANNA SEE REINA AGAIN HIGHKEY and shinji....#also who's the dilf thats gonna play kazama.... i have my priorities straight ok #tl;dr im optimistic :) rgg keeps giving me reasons not to jump off a building so LMAO ill take what i can get to keep going

8 notes · View notes

mcverse · 1 year ago

Text

༘⋆✿ Pᴀʀɪɴɢ: Yᴜᴜᴍᴀ Mᴜᴋᴀᴍɪ x ꜱ/ᴏ! F! Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

༘⋆✿ Rᴇϙᴜᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅ: Yᴇꜱ/Nᴏ ( @arleccine )

༘⋆✿ Wᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.1ᴋ

༘⋆✿ Tʏᴘᴇ: Oɴᴇʜᴏᴛ Sᴄᴇɴᴀʀɪᴏ, Cᴏʟʟᴇɢᴇ!Aᴜ

༘⋆✿ Wᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜꜱʏ, ғɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ, ᴏʀɢᴀꜱᴍ (ғᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴄᴇɪᴠɪɴɢ), ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ʙɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴋɪɴᴋ, ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛʟʏ(?) ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ Yᴜᴜᴍᴀ, ꜱᴏғᴛ Yᴜᴜᴍᴀ (ꜱᴏ ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ᴏᴏᴄ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ꜱᴜʀᴇ), ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴅᴇɢʀᴀᴅɪɴɢ

༘⋆✿ Sɪᴅᴇ Bᴀʀ: I ᴡᴀꜱɴ’ᴛ ᴘʟᴀɴɴɪɴɢ ᴏғ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ ғᴀʀ ʙᴜᴛ I ᴅɪᴅ. Wᴇʟʟ, ʜᴇʀᴇ ɪᴛ ɪꜱ. Mʏ ғɪʀꜱᴛ ᴏғғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ ᴏɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴀᴄᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ. ꜱɪɴᴄᴇ ɪᴛ’ꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ғɪʀꜱᴛ, ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʜᴏᴡ ɪᴛ ɪꜱ ᴘʟꜱ!

༘⋆✿ Hᴏᴍᴇ

ᴘʟꜱ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ɪɴ ᴍɪɴᴅ: ᴀʟʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ʙʟᴏɢ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ 18+

ʟɪᴋᴇꜱ & ꜱʜᴀʀᴇꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ

"Damn..." you exhale in exhaustion as you place a box in the living room among the others. Yuuma follows, effortlessly juggling the last two boxes in both arms and closing the apartment door with his foot.

He positions the boxes beside yours and shakes his head, teasing, "You lifted, what, five boxes? Quit pretending like you did so much work." A small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips when you shoot him a scowl.

"What's it to you? I'm exhausted. It took hours to get here. I don't have vampire-like abilities where I can skip sleep," you retort, turning away with a pout and settling beside the box you had placed earlier. "And out of all the places we could've gone, you pick this city."

If you could even call it a city. By your standards, it was far too small in comparison to the cities in America, but you didn't have the authority to dictate what qualified as one.

Yuuma clicks his tongue and approaches you, giving your hair a gentle tug to capture your attention. "We picked this place together, don't forget. A certain someone couldn't handle long-distance, so we made a compromise on Nakari University."

You groan and shut your eyes as the memory replays in your mind, causing you to cringe with secondhand embarrassment. It's the recollection of a particularly raw and emotional pillow talk with Yuuma.

It was perhaps that display of vulnerability that led to both of you deciding to attend the same college instead of going your separate ways for your bachelor's degrees.

Somehow, you had a feeling he'd never allow you to forget that.

"That's what I thought," he tease playfully in response to your silence, leaning down and catching you off guard with a quick peck on the lips. "Now, quit lounging around. The quicker we unpack, the sooner you can sneak in a nap."

You nod, smiling at him. "And a shower. I would really enjoy that."

He takes a sniff of the air, raises an eyebrow, and nods in agreement. "You've got that unmistakable scent of sweat."

You decide to dismiss his comment since nobody sought his agreement, and you're becoming tired of his teasing. Pointing out your scent isn't fair when he consistently carries the fragrance of Gardenias around him.

"Could you play some music? My phone's in my purse over there, and my mini speaker’s right next to it," you ask him, opting not to get up since he was already standing.

He complies without hesitation, effortlessly unlocking your phone because he knows the password, while simultaneously turning on the Bluetooth speaker. "Do you have a specific song, or should I shuffle?"

"Shuffle," you mumble, your mind already focused on unboxing the boxes within your reach.

He hums, starting to play your liked list and then proceeding to unbox the last two boxes he brought in. Amidst the melodies playing through the speakers, the sound of ripped tape on cardboard boxes could be heard quite loudly.

The speaker volume is evidently too low. Just as you're about to nag Yuuma to turn it up, you perk up at the instrumental of "What He Don't Know."

"Oh, this is my song! Yumi, crank up the volume!" you exclaim, pointing at your phone and snapping your fingers to prompt him. As he adjusts the volume and turns it up, your voice also rises as the lyrics begin.

"What a goofball..." he murmurs quietly as he leans against the wall, a soft smile on his face as he observes you singing your heart out at the highest volume. You sing so loudly that you forget about your task and wave your arms around, as if the lyrics resonate deeply within your soul.

“I want to make you do bad things that he can’t teach you, same places he can’t reach to!” you sing, bopping to the beat with enthusiasm.

Yuuma raises a brow at those lyrics, straightening up slightly as he shifts his attention more to the music than to you. What kind of song was this?

“We can play this dirty game, while he’s away, ain’t that why you came. You whisper in my ear soft and low, “ you pause a beat before matching the energy of the chorus, “What he don’t know won’t hurt him. Don’t know won’t hurt him, don’t know won’t hurt him.”

His eyebrows furrow now, his mind trying to piece together why you're vibing so easily to this song. It’s about cheating, and he’s wondering why you seem so into it. You're not a cheater, right? At least, not in anything but Monopoly, he thinks.

“Simple touch just enough, to tell me you like it rough. You say you want to leave him. Secrets always stay sweet and on the tip of your tongue, like a loaded—“

The song abruptly stops, making you snap your head towards the source. You find Yuuma holding your phone in a tight grip. However, his expression is inscrutable, and you can't tell how he's feeling right now. What you don't know is that Yuuma has heard enough, and he didn't like it, not one bit.

"I was listening to that!" you whine, slumping sadly as you shoot him a disapproving frown.

He ignores your complaint and instead shoots a question at you, "Since when did you start listening to songs like this?" He gives you an expectant look, his eyes piercing as he awaits your reply.

He wants to know.

"What? Recently. It's one of my new favorites," you reply, still puzzled by his reaction. Why was he so concerned about the song?

"Where did you hear it?" he fires off another question, his voice slightly strained, and his throat feeling dry.

He needs to know.

You shrug, rolling your eyes at his barrage of questions. "I don't know. I just can't stop listening to it on repeat."

Yuuma wasn't pleased with your answer. His mind raced, thinking that you must have heard the song in a social setting where he wasn't present. Why else would you be listening to a song like this?

He gazes at you for a moment before a smirk slowly creeps onto his face, and he starts walking toward you, each step filled with playful taunts. When he reaches you, you're gazing up at him with a doe-eyed expression, and he can't help but find it amusing. You look just like caught prey.

"Is there someone I should be worried about?" he teases, his hand gently tilting your chin upward as he encourages you to stand up to your full height.

You were left speechless, to say the least. Yuuma's teasing was usually light-hearted, but this time, there seemed to be an undertone to it. The only occasions he got like this were when he was upset or in a bedroom mood.

It left you even more puzzled. What had you done in such a short time to agitate his nerves? And if that wasn’t the case, why did he suddenly seem turned on?

"Don't make me repeat myself," Yuuma prods at your silence, taking a step forward. In response, you take steps back until your back hits a surface.

This leaves Yuuma closing the distance between you, effectively trapping you between him and the wall. He demands, "Answer me, sow."

Yes, he was angry and turned on. He only ever calls you that during that particular moment, understanding how belittling it would be outside of that context and how it didn't fit with someone he comes to love.

"Why are you upset?" you whisper as his eyes travel to your lips, your breath hitching when he runs a finger from your ear down to your shoulder, teasingly tracing a path with his touch.

You instinctively turn your head, baring your neck to him. He hasn't fed since you arrived. Maybe he was upset because he was hungry?

His hand slowly travels from bare your shoulder, down your collarbone, past your breast, skipping past your belly button to linger around the loose waistband of your baggy ripped jeans, playing with it. “Are you pretending to be a dumb bitch in heat right now, baring your neck to me because you know what you did wrong? Or can my baby really be this dumb?”

You shake your head, mumbling “I’m not dumb..,” but you certainly feel like it when all his words do is shoot right down to your lower region that begins to ache for some attention instead of feeling repulsed by them.

Suddenly, you’re all too aware of how far Yuuma is despite how close, and you pull him flush against your body with your arms circling around his waist.

You didn’t care what he was mad about right now. Whatever the reason may be, you can talk about it later because you knew where this attitude would lead next.

He started it, and he damn sure was gonna finish it. He’ll make you forget those damn lyrics until the only thing singing from your lungs is his name and sweet mewls just for him.

He chuckles lowly at your words, at your reaction to his. Your body betraying your defensive words, choosing him over your brain that he was going to fuck to mush on his dick later.

"No, you're not dumb?," he falsely coos, rubbing his nose against your cheek before planting ghostly kisses on your jawline that lead to your ear. He teasingly bites your earlobe and whispers, "That’s not what I wanted to hear…I’ll just have to finger you till you are."

In just seconds, you find yourself clutching his shirt tightly, your back arching away from the wall as Yuuma effortlessly slips his hand beneath your waistband, cupping your sex as his middle finger applies pressure to your clit.

“You have to be dumb, sow,” he sensually hisses, increasing the pressure, keeping a firm grip on your hips just as they threaten to move, “Listening to songs like that ain’t fair to me. Haven’t I been good to you?”

"W-What?" you wearily reply, too busy focusing on the meager pleasure he's giving you and trying to wriggle free for more when he refuses to move on his own. You huff in annoyance at his strong grip on your hip. "Yuuma," you whine, leaning your head against his chest.

You feel his lips pressing gently against the side of your head, and it makes the feeling between your leg throb just as much as the muscle in your chest. How can he embody both tenderness and playfulness at the same time? He physically holds you in his hand, weaving a tapestry of serious and teasing words, yet he hasn't fulfilled your most profound desires.

"Yes?" he replies, and though you can't see his face, the sound in his voice hints at his smirk transforming into a wicked grin.

You gulp heavily, your mind racing to keep up, but the overwhelming heat coursing through your body makes it difficult to concentrate. All you desire is for him to move his wrist in a specific manner, back and forth repeatedly, at a speed that threatens to make your eyes cross.

What did you need him to do again, oh yeah, “Stop playing with me.” you grumble, “I wanna cum, I want you to make me cum.”

"Who said I was playing?" he responds with all seriousness, sliding his hand up an inch to slip into your underwear, reclaiming the same position. However, this time, he applies the same pressure and starts moving in a circular motion at a speed that leaves you gasping for air in surprise, “Who said I play when it comes to you?”

"F-Fuck!" you whimper shakily, your eyes tightly shut in response to his astonishing pace, one that no human man could ever hope to match. The sensation is so overwhelming that your legs instinctively begin to close, but Yuuma halts them with a leg of his own, pushing you further open.

“Do you think I came all this way with you, just to hear you sing a song about leaving me just as we got here?!” he growls deeply, forcefully tearing your tank top apart and splitting your bra in two before settling back on your hip.

The sight sends a shiver down his spine, and he licks his lips as he hears your pulse quicken and sees your veins dance, “You look so good…you taste so good.”

You moan in response to his words, unable to articulate a single coherent syllable, even though this is only the appetizer; it happens every time.

Your anticipation intensifies as his touch momentarily retreats from your throbbing clit, only to descend to your core, where he circles, gathering slickness before resuming his attention to your sensitive bud.

A mixture of desire and a subtle tinge of shame colors your thoughts as you imagine him doing this with the intention of withdrawing his hand to sensually suck on his fingers while repeating those alluring words.

“You’re so wet,” he groans, his grip on your hip tightening, “I bet you'd feel incredible wrapped around me—so tight, so warm. Do you think you can handle me right now?” he asks thrusting his hips forward suddenly and forcefully, causing you to jump with a gasp. It may not have directly touched you, but the impact against his hand was enough to make the knot in your stomach to grow tighter.

His hand abandons your hip, choosing instead to wrap his arm around your waist, securing you as your knees start to tremble under the approaching wave of pleasure. Your mouth hangs open, emitting short, ragged breaths. He observes it for a moment before deciding that he wants a taste.

You moan into the kiss, your tongues dancing together as you clutch his shoulders. In your passionate embrace, he unconsciously blocks your access to air, leaving you breathless and growing dizzy.

Yuuma thoroughly explores every corner of your mouth with his, greedily eats up all the noise you make before he eventually pulls away. A glistening strand of saliva briefly connects you both before it breaks and rejoins the pool of drool in the corner of your mouth.

“I’m gonna cum!” you warn him, pulse picking up to the point of numbness, your body hot and drenched in sweat, causing your torn clothes to stick uncomfortably to your skin. But all of that fades in importance when Yuuma abruptly halts his movements altogether.

Your eyes snap open, and you shoot him a displeased glare, your brow furrowing as you tug at his shirt in irritation. "No! Yuuma, I was so close!" you complain, arching your hips to seek the lost friction. It feels like you were ascending the highest peak, only to suddenly tumble down without any apparent reason.

His gaze remains locked onto yours, and he delivers the most frustrating statement since his irritation began, "I didn't give you permission to come.”

"Okay! Enough with the attitude, Yuu—ah!" you're cut off by a drawn-out moan that blends both pain and pleasure as he simultaneously bites down on your neck and slips a finger inside you. He groans against your skin, whether from the taste of your iron on his tongue or your tight grip on his finger, you're not entirely certain.

He wastes no time, thrusting into you with precision, his wrist flicking sharply while his thumb rubs your clit simultaneously. The pressure in your stomach builds up once more, and you reach down to keep his hand in place, silently praying that he doesn't stop again because it feels fucking delicious.

The throbbing in your pussy matches the pulse in your neck, and you can't help but wonder if he can sense how perfectly in sync they both are. The thought makes your eyes roll back, revealing more white than iris. He adds a second finger, curling them expertly as they press against the sensitive spot within clamped walls, causing your toes to curl and making you even tighter.

Yuuma breaks away from your neck, muttering a curse as he reaches his long arm further behind your back. He seizes your baggy jean leg, pulling your leg off the floor toward your body where he can grip the back of your knee. The stretch is deliciously painful in the best way, encouraging him to delve knuckle deep inside you.

The sounds of smacks resonate loudly, a clear indicator of how aroused he's made you. He breathes heavily while studying your body, declaring, "I’m the only one who can make you feel like this," he says, moving back towards your neck to plant kisses near your sensitive spot.

You whimper and shiver, the area tingling with slight soreness, “Only I could see you like this… legs spread open like a slut, taking what I give you in your messy pussy.”

Floating. It's as if you're weightless, carried higher by his words, each one pushing your climax to new heights. The sensation is almost achingly tight, and the promise of sweet release is tantalizingly close. Just one more push, and...

"Cumming, cumming!" you cry out, holding onto him tightly. Tears actually well up in your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure that courses through you, completely shattering your mind.

All that escapes your lips are chants of his name, nothing else. Your stomach tightens, and your muscles spasm as you gush onto his hand, even as he continues to abuse your pussy at the same tempo. It's so intense that you feel dizzy within the throes of your climax.

Your body becomes pliant as the euphoria settles in, soft sighs and mewls escaping your lips. "Yuuma," you pant, "Yuuma?" you call out again, but he continues to ignore you.

Instead, he withdraws his hand from your jeans, moving away slightly to lift you up into his arms. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist as his hands find purchase on your hips, drawing you close. So close that you can feel the bulge in his pants brushing against your covered sex.

Without a chance to ask a question, he kisses you with insatiable hunger, tilting his head to intensify the passionate connection, his lips devouring yours.

One of his hands reaches back, squeezing your ass, eliciting a wanton moan from you. When he finally pulls away, you're left feeling thoroughly turned on again, especially as you see the desire burning in his dark, lust-filled eyes.

"We're going to fuck, and after that, you're going to delete that stupid song, got it?" he orders, his jaw tense as he waits for your confirmation. He smirks when he receives a nod, accompanied by a shaky sigh.

"Good girl."

#✰ 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐮— 𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐭¡𝐜𝐚 #✮⋆˙ 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 — 𝐲𝐮𝐮𝐦𝐚 #yuma mukami x reader #mukami yuma #diabolik lovers yuma #yuma mukami #yuuma mukami #yuma mukami imagine #diabolik boys #diabolik lovers mukami #diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers x reader #diabolik lovers smut #Yuma mukami smut #yuuma muakami smut

398 notes · View notes

honeybeezgobzzzzz · 4 months ago

Text

☠️ Something Dread, Something Red: Chapter Twenty-Seven

Something Dread, Something Red: Stuck in a proposal to a Marine Commodore, you escape minutes before your wedding in one last ditch effort to avoid getting married to a tyrant. Barely making it to the port of your town, you stumble across a ship just starting to leave and beg for passage off the island. You fail to notice that the people you beg for help, are pirates.

Warnings: Violence, Blood.

To Note: “Red Haired” Shanks x FemReader

Word Count: ~2.8k

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Shanks grips the railing of the Red Force, his knuckles white. The wind whips through his hair, but the usual thrill of sailing is absent. His crew moves with a sense of urgency, each member aware of the stakes. They’ve lost sight of the marine ship, and every second you and Yumi are in Collins' hands feels like an eternity.

Benn approaches, his face set in a grim line. "We've got word from the villagers. They say the ship headed southeast, towards Blackthorn Island."

Shanks narrows his eyes at the horizon. "Then we head southeast." His voice is cold, clipped. There’s no room for error. Not now.

Benn nods, understanding the gravity of Shanks' mood. He barks orders to the crew, and they scramble to adjust the sails and course. The ship tilts as it veers in the new direction, cutting through the waves with purpose.

Every muscle in Shanks' body is tense, coiled like a spring ready to snap. He can’t shake the image of your face from his mind—the way your eyes sparkled with defiance and determination. You had your arguments, your tensions about your future, now you were gone and heading toward the hands of the one man Shanks swore to protect you from.

Damn you, Collins.

He slams his fist against the wooden railing, feeling a mix of anger and helplessness wash over him. The commodore had always been a shadow lurking since he had thrown you over his shoulder and sailed off with you, but now he was a tangible threat. Shanks could handle threats to himself; he’d faced countless dangers in his life as a pirate. But this was different. This is personal.

"Captain," Yasopp calls out from above in the crow’s nest. "Still no sight of them."

Shanks grits his teeth. "Keep looking."

His mind races with possibilities—none of them good. Collins knew about you and him now; there’s no telling what kind of revenge he might seek. Shanks' heart aches at the thought of you in pain or scared because he couldn’t protect you. At least Collins wanted, needed, you alive and well.

"We'll find her," Benn says quietly beside him, sensing his turmoil.

"We have to," Shanks replies, his voice barely more than a growl. "I won't let that bastard lay another finger on her."

The sea stretches out before them, vast and unforgiving. But Shanks is undeterred. He would scour every inch of it if that’s what it took to bring you back safely. He had a promise to keep.

Shanks' jaw tightens as he paces the deck, each step a battle to keep his anger in check. The crew works with an intensity that matches his mood, their loyalty and concern for their captain palpable in every movement. He pauses by the helm, his eyes scanning the horizon, willing the marine ship to appear.

"Captain," Yasopp calls down again, his voice carrying a note of urgency. "There's several ships on the horizon, bearing southeast."

Shanks’ heart leaps into his throat. "Full speed ahead," he orders, his voice firm and resolute.

The Red Force surges forward, the sails straining against the wind. Shanks grips the railing again, his eyes never leaving the distant speck that could be your salvation. His thoughts churn like the ocean beneath him. He remembers your laughter from that night in the tavern, your stubborn determination during your arguments. The explosive sex afterwards that left you both craving each others touches, kisses. Each memory fuels his resolve.

Pain radiates through your abdomen, a relentless cramping that leaves you gasping for breath. You curl on the thin mattress, trying to make yourself as small as possible. Each movement sends fresh waves of discomfort coursing through you, accompanied by the disconcerting sensation of fluid and blood seeping from between your legs.

Yumi had departed from your side, fearful of causing you further pain in her desire for comfort. You've tried to coax her back into your arms, but the bludgeoning pain that comes and goes cripples you. You hear a door creak open, and instinctively, you tense up, expecting more harsh treatment. But instead, a soft voice cuts through the haze of pain.

"Lady Bonn, we're here to help you."

You turn your head slightly to see two female marines approaching. Their expressions are gentle, their steps cautious. One of them kneels beside you, her eyes filled with concern.

"Let's get you cleaned up," she says softly.

The other marine moves to gather supplies—a basin of warm water, clean cloths, and fresh clothes. They work in unison, their movements practiced and efficient but not rushed. You sense no malice in them, only a desire to help.

As they begin to bathe you, their touch is careful and respectful. The warm water soothes some of the discomfort, washing away the grime and blood. You wince as they clean around the tender areas, but they are quick to murmur apologies and reassurance.

"It's going to be alright," one whispers, her voice soothing your frayed nerves.

In the corner of the room, Yumi watches with wide eyes, her small hands clutched together in worry.

"Is she going to be okay?" Yumi’s voice wavers with fear. "

One of the marines glances over her shoulder at Yumi and offers a comforting smile. "She’ll be alright. We’re taking good care of her."

You want to reassure Yumi yourself, but the pain makes it hard to form words. Instead, you manage a weak smile in her direction. The effort exhausts you, but it's worth it when you see some of the tension leave Yumi’s face.

The female marines finish bathing you and help you into a dress much like ones your mother used to dress you in. Expensive. Over the top at times. Out of place. But it's clean and dry—such a stark contrast to everything else you've endured lately that you don't bother to resist.

One marine gently brushes out your hair while the other fusses with the strings of your corset. You could feel their disapproval of the dress of choice but no doubt they were not the ones to have chosen such a garment. Their kindness is almost overwhelming after so much fear and pain. You close your eyes briefly, grateful for this small mercy in the midst of chaos.

Yumi inches closer once they're done, her little hand reaching for yours. You squeeze it lightly, drawing strength from her presence even as fatigue pulls at your consciousness.

"I suppose I should expect a visit from the Commodore?" You broach, your throat scratchy.

The marine with the brush pauses, her eyes meeting yours. "Yes," she says quietly, her voice laced with regret. "His ship is joining ours shortly."

A shiver runs down your spine at the thought of facing Commodore Collins again. The memory of his cold, calculating eyes makes your stomach churn, but you push it aside. You have to stay strong for Yumi, for yourself. You are not the girl that had fled Bonn Manor, but a woman stronger than she thinks.

The female marines bring in trays laden with simple but nourishing food—slices of bread, cheese, and bowls of steaming broth. The aroma fills the small room, and despite the discomfort from your dress and the cramps still gnawing at your insides, you can’t help but appreciate the gesture. Not all marine’s are bad.

They set the trays on a small table near the bed. One of them gently helps you to your feet and guides you to the table. Each step sends a fresh jolt of pain through your abdomen, but you grit your teeth and endure it. Yumi follows closely behind, her eyes darting nervously between you and the food.

“Sit,” one marine says softly, pulling out a chair for you. You lower yourself onto it, trying to ignore how the corset digs into your ribs. The other marine places a small bowl of broth in front of you, but even the sight of it makes your stomach churn with nausea.

You glance at Yumi, who stands hesitantly by the table. “Eat, Yumi,” you urge her gently, managing a weak smile despite your discomfort. “You need your strength.”

Yumi’s eyes flicker with uncertainty before she climbs onto the chair opposite you. She takes a tentative sip of her broth, then another. You watch her eat with a sense of relief mingled with guilt—relief that she’s eating and guilt that you can’t bring yourself to do the same.

The cramps worsen, each wave of pain making it harder to focus on anything else. You rest a hand on your abdomen, trying to soothe the ache even though you know it’s futile. The other hand grips the edge of the table for support as nausea rolls through you in waves.

One of the marines notices your struggle and steps closer. “Do you need anything?” she asks quietly.

You shake your head slightly. “Just...watch over Yumi,” you murmur, closing your eyes briefly against another surge of pain. "Especially when I cannot."

The marine nods.

You sit on the edge of the bed, holding a worn storybook one of the female Marine's was kind enough to lend. The words swim in front of your eyes as you read aloud, each syllable a distraction from the pain clawing at your insides. Yumi’s small frame is pressed against your side, her wide eyes fixed on the pages.

“…and the brave knight saved the kingdom from the fearsome dragon,” you read, your voice steady despite the turmoil within you. Yumi’s hand tightens around yours, drawing comfort from your presence.

The door to the small room almost bangs open, and your heart skips a beat. Commodore Collins strides in, his presence sucking the air from the space. He’s still as imposing as ever, his uniform pristine, his eyes cold and calculating. You instinctively pull Yumi closer to you.

“Leave us,” he orders, his voice a chilling command.

The female marines exchange hesitant glances but comply, ushering Yumi towards the door. She clings to you, her small hands trembling.

“It’s okay, Yumi,” you whisper, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’ll be fine.”

Yumi’s eyes fill with tears, but she allows herself to be led out of the room. The door closes behind her with a finality that sends a shiver down your spine. You’re alone with him now.

Collins’ gaze sweeps over you, taking in every detail—the disheveled hair, the ill-fitting dress, the pain etched on your face. A cruel smile tugs at his lips as he steps closer.

“Linaria,” he says softly, almost mockingly. “My betrothed. You look a mess dear.”

You stiffen at his words, every muscle in your body tensing. “I am not yours,” you manage to say through gritted teeth.

He chuckles, a low, menacing sound that makes your skin crawl. “Oh, but you are,” he says, leaning down so his face is inches from yours. “You see, I have a contract. And you have obligations.”

You meet Collins’ gaze, refusing to show the fear gnawing at your insides.

"No," you say in a soft tone. He leans back slightly, his eyes cold and calculating as they sweep over you.

“Running away from your responsibilities, Linaria? How very noble of you,” he sneers, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “And to think, all this time you’ve been hiding with that filthy pirate scum.”

You clench your fists, nails digging into your palms. The urge to lash out is almost overwhelming, but you force yourself to stay calm. “You aren't even a quarter of the man Shanks is,” you retort, your voice steady despite the tremor in your heart.

Collins’ eyes darken, his cruel smile widening. “Is that so?” he says, his voice dangerously low. “You’ve become quite the defiant little thing, haven’t you?”

You lift your chin, defiance sparking in your eyes. “I’d rather be with a pirate than with a monster like you,” you spit out, your words laced with venom.

His expression shifts, the smile disappearing. He steps closer, his presence looming over you. “Watch your tongue,” he snarls, his voice icy. “Or do I need to remind you of your place?”

You don’t back down, meeting his gaze head-on. “My place is anywhere but by your side,” you retort, your voice unwavering. “You’re nothing but a—”

The slap comes out of nowhere, the force of it whipping your head to the side. Pain explodes across your cheek, and you taste blood as one of his rings cuts into your lip. You gasp, the metallic tang filling your mouth. One of your precious ruby earrings falls to the ground with a small clink.

Collins grabs the necklace around your neck and yanks it hard, the chain snapping and leaving a stinging sensation on your skin. You cry from the pain of the chain digging into your neck, but also that he is touching something so precious to you. He holds it up in front of you, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction before pocketing it.

“You think you can defy me and get away with it?” he growls, his face inches from yours. His breath is hot and rancid against your skin.

Your hand instinctively goes to your cheek, feeling the warmth of fresh blood on your fingertips. Your heart pounds in your chest, but you force yourself to meet his gaze again.

“You can’t control me,” you manage to say through the pain and blood.

His expression hardens further. With deliberate slowness, he lifts his boot and crushes the fallen earring beneath it, grinding it into the floorboards until it's nothing but shattered metal and gem.

Blood trickles down your chin, and you can taste its metallic tang. Collins leans in close, his voice a chilling whisper.

“I’m glad that pirate’s brat is out of your belly,” he sneers. “Soon enough, my child will be there instead.”

His words send a wave of nausea through you, but you force yourself to stay still, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing your fear. He stands up straight, his eyes cold and calculating as they sweep over you one last time before he turns and strides out of the room, the door closing behind him with a finality that leaves you feeling trapped.

For a moment, you just sit there, trying to catch your breath and steady the pounding of your heart. The pain in your cheek and lip is sharp, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in your soul. Slowly, you turn your head and look at the shattered remains of your earring on the floor.

You reach out with trembling fingers and pick up the small red ruby, the only piece that survived Collins’ cruel assault. The metal is crushed beyond recognition, but the ruby itself is intact, it's twin still dangling from your ear.

You tuck the small red ruby into your dress pocket, the last remnant of your shattered earring. Metal can be crushed, but the gem still remains. The door creaks open, and Yumi rushes in, her eyes wide with fear and concern.

"Aria!" she cries out, her small hands reaching for you. Her gaze zeroes in on your split lip, and tears well up in her eyes. "What happened?"

You force a smile, wincing at the pain it causes. "I'm okay, Yumi," you say softly, trying to soothe her. "Just a little accident."

She doesn't look convinced. Her fingers brush lightly against your cheek, where the blood has dried. "You're hurt," she whispers, her voice trembling.

You pull her into a gentle hug, despite the pain it causes your abdomen. "I'll be fine," you murmur into her hair. "It's just a scratch."

But inside, you're mourning more than just the physical pain. You mourn the loss of the ruby necklace that Shanks had given you, a symbol of his care and affection. The necklace that Collins had so cruelly torn from your neck now feels like a gaping wound in your heart.

You finger the lone earring still hanging from your ear. It feels like a piece of Shanks is still with you, but it's a small comfort compared to the overwhelming sense of loss.

Yumi pulls back slightly to look at you, her eyes searching your face for reassurance. "Will Shanks really come for us?" she asks in a small voice.

Your heart aches at her question. You want to promise her that he will, that everything will be alright, but you can't bring yourself to make such a promise when you're not sure of anything anymore. You feel so defeated

"I hope so," you say instead, your voice barely above a whisper.

Yumi nods, as if accepting this uncertain hope as enough for now. She nestles closer to you, seeking comfort in your presence even as you draw strength from hers.

With every heartbeat, you hold onto the hope that Shanks will come for you both. And until then, you'll keep fighting—if not for yourself, then for Yumi.

Date Published: 7/15/24

Last Edit: 7/29/24

Previous | Masterlist | Next

#one piece shanks #shanks x you #red haired shanks #shanks x reader #shanks #one piece

42 notes · View notes

tiedyeflannels · 1 year ago

Text

Converse High

Min Yoongi x reader

Word count: 3k

Masterlist

A/N: Hi! Not sure what to put here, but I did want to thank @maple-leaves-in-the-wind for kind of helping me with the plot. Love ya <3 Anyway, I hope you enjoy this fic!

"This song was actually inspired by someone that Suga met one day at a convenience store,” Namjoon said.

The boys were doing some promotion of their new album The Most Beautiful Moment in Life Pt. 1 at a radio station, when one of the hosts asked what made them come up with lyrics in ‘Converse High’.

“Yeah, I went to a convenience store near our dorm late at night because I was hungry and wanted something to eat, so I bought some ramen. There was this girl wearing red high tops, heating up her food, but the other microwaves were out of order so I had to wait until she was done so I could heat up mine. She must’ve known that I was behind her waiting because she asked if I wanted her to heat mine up too since she was already there,” he laughed at the memory.

He continued, “She was really cool and even gave me her secret ramen recipe that tasted really good.”

“So, thank you Suga’s mystery girl, for inspiring him and the hyungs to write this song,” Jimin said, looking into the camera.

“Did you ever get her name, hyung,” Namjoon asked, turning over to Yoongi.

Yoongi thought for a moment, then chuckled. “You know, I don’t think I ever thought to ask.”

Why did this have to happen today?

I internally kicked myself for not realizing what we were supposed to be doing today. I continued to run through the park, dodging random passersby and the occasional low hanging tree branch before I made it to where the rest of the crew was set up.

The boys were filming a RUN BTS episode today that we were supposed to come early to help set up, but thanks to my faulty alarm and the fact that I didn’t have it on my schedule because we were constantly reminded of it, I totally forgot.

I eventually set my stuff down and quietly walked over to Yumi and started to take out my camera.

“What happened? Why are you so late,” she whispered, not wanting to have the camera pick it up even though we weren’t the ones who were wearing mic packs.

“Everyone thought you were dealing with a hangover for how late you are!”

“I know,” I whispered back, making sure my camera was in working condition. “But one, everyone should know that I rarely drink and two, I didn’t think that I needed to put it on my schedule because we were constantly getting reminded of it, but I guess I was wrong.”

I snapped a couple of test pictures of the boys to make sure that everything was working fine before looking over a Yumi.

“Why didn’t you set an alarm, I literally texted you about this last night so you didn’t forget,” she deadpanned.

“I did set an alarm, but it didn’t go off so I guess I got to sleep in,” I quietly chuckled, scratching the back of my neck.

Yumi smiled and shook her head, “You, my dear, are going to get in so much trouble.”

I groaned, “Please don’t remind me. I’m still trying to get over the lecture the director gave me last time I was late to a RUN shoot.”

I really need to start putting things in my schedule. Not only did I receive a massive lecture from the director telling me how irresponsible I was, I didn’t get to eat any of the snacks that were laid out for staff as punishment for not helping.

It didn’t help that I didn’t get anything to eat on the way out of my house because I was too focused on making it here at a reasonable time, so I was basically running on nothing and the snacks were looking REALLY good right now, but as my stomach growled I sighed and walked away, not wanting to torture myself anymore.

“Alright everyone, let’s get back to filming,” the director said, looking around to make sure everyone was ready.

Since we were filming this RUN BTS episode at a carnival, everyone got their own camera person and because of that, the rest of the crew- including Yumi and I- got to roam around and take pictures.

“So, we get to do whatever,” Hobi excitedly asked.

The director nodded and the boys started cheering. Their little celebration was cut a little short when the director spoke up.

“But, this is still a competition and there is a spy. You guys are going to have to figure out who the spy is by the end of the day in order to win, if you don’t, then the spy will win.”

The guys simultaneously groaned and then started eyeing each other. The director continued to explain some of the rules, stating that everyone will be playing the games as normal.

“With that being said, you are free to do whatever you please.”

The guys made a run for any games they can get to the fastest. A couple of them went to the same game and started yelling at each other to go to a different game. The staff chuckled at their competitiveness, then started to part ways to record each of the boys.

Recording lasted about 3 hours and it was safe to say… I’m about ready to pass out.

Half way through the shoot, I had bought some mini donuts, but it was not filling and it made me feel a bit sluggish. Shooting had concluded and revealed Jungkook as the spy, much to everyone’s surprise and then the crew wrapped up.

We were told that the carnival would be open for staff and the members if they wanted to go around and spend time together. Naturally, when we were told that, I immediately thought about leaving to find the nearest convenience store for some kind of food, but Yumi had to pull me from my thoughts.

“Y/n! We should go play something! How about darts,” she asked as she started tugging me over to the stall.

I groaned.

“No, I’m really hungry and nothing here is filling. I’ve got to get something in me before I, either, die of starvation or simply pass out from low blood sugar,” I said as I tried to get out of her grasp.

She sighed, letting go of my hand and placing them out her hips. “Come on Y/n, just play one game with me and then I’ll let you go. You never know when you’re gonna get to go to the carnival again.”

I mirrored her actions and put my hand on my hips. “First of all, this carnival is going to be open tomorrow too, so we can go then,” I said, and she nodded in acknowledgement, “and second, you can get someone else to play with you. I promise I’ll play all the games you want tomorrow, okay?”

She paused for a moment before letting her hands fall to her sides and sighed.

“Okay… BUT! You’re gonna pay for my food AND we get on some of the rides too. Deal?”

She held out her pinky toward me. I playfully rolled my eyes and linked my pinky with her’s securing the promise.

“Deal! Now, I’m gonna go before I land face first into this dirt,” I said, walking away while waving to her.

She waved back and went over to some of the other staff standing by a booth. I walked over to where the camera crew was now disassembling their equipment and once I got to my bag, I started carefully taking apart my camera.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I muttered under my breath as I looked over to the microwaves and saw that all but one were ‘out of order’ and the guy using it looked like he was going to be there for a while.

Just my luck, huh?

I shook my head and sighed, but went to pick out my food while I waited for the microwave to be available. Walking through the aisles, looking for my ramen, and happily grabbing it when I found it, then walking over to the rows of coolers to get a drink.

I walked over to the counter and paid for my food, then headed back to the microwaves. Luckily the guy from before was done heating up all his food and now it was my turn.

I peeled the top of the ramen container back and walked over to put some water in it from the drinking fountain next to the microwaves. Once I was done putting in the water, I moved back to the microwaves and started to heat up my ramen.

While I was waiting there, I heard the quiet shuffling of feet behind me followed by a sigh. I looked into one of the microwaves and saw Yoongi standing behind me.

I quietly chuckled and said, “Would you like me to heat yours up too?”

I heard a confused “huh?” and turned around to greet Yoongi, bowing slightly.

He returned the bow with the confused look still written all over his face. “How did you know that I was behind you?”

A smirk grew onto my face, “A great magician never reveals their secrets.”

The confusion grew deeper as his eyebrows furrowed ever more.

At this point I couldn’t hold back my laughter. “I’m kidding, I heard feet shuffling behind me and I could see your reflection in the microwaves,” I said slightly turning toward the microwaves to point at them.

He slowly nodded at my explanation. The microwave beeped, letting me know that my food was ready. I pulled out my food, setting it off to the side before I turned back to Yoongi.

“Going back to what I said earlier, would you like me to heat that up for you too?”

“Oh! Yes please.”

I took the cup of ramen from him and put it into the microwave, putting in the recommended amount of time and then pressing start.

“So… what brings you here? I would’ve thought that you would be with the others right now at the carnival,” I said, leaning against the counter and stirring my ramen with some chopsticks that were nearby.

He shrugged, “Well, Taehyung was trying to drag me to one of the rides, but I played the “I don’t feel good” card and no more questions were asked.”

Humming in response, I took a bite of my ramen. As I stirred my ramen ready to take another bite, the microwave beeped signaling that the food was ready.

Yoongi moved to open the microwave as I grabbed some chopsticks to hand to him, earning a quiet “thank you” before he started mixing his food. Still leaning against the counter, I watched as he walked over to the condiments bar and started to dig around in the cooler.

He proceeded to take out a slice of cheese and put it on his ramen, closing the lid.

Huh. That’s interesting…

“Would you like to sit with me? It’d be nice to have some company,” I asked as I walked to a table near a window overlooking the street.

“Sure,” he said as he walked over to the table, taking the seat across from me.

I continued to eat my ramen as he stirred his and I couldn’t stop the question rolling off my tongue, “Did you come up with that?”

He looked up from his food and I pointed to noodles that had strings of cheese hanging on them. “Hmm? Oh, you mean adding cheese to ramen?”

I nodded.

He looked down at his food, “Nope, someone taught it to me a few years back. I thought it tasted really good so I’ve been eating it like this ever since.” I nodded and went back to eating.

We quietly ate for a while which allowed me to finish my meal, setting it aside and reaching to pull out my phone from my back pocket until Yoongi spoke up.

“What about you? Do you put anything special in your ramen,” he asked before slurping down the rest of the noodles.

I hummed, “Coincidentally, I put cheese in my ramen too, but it’s something I’ve been doing since I was a kid. I used to call it my ‘secret recipe’.”

“Wait…”

I was a little confused at his reaction and even more so when his face lit up like a light bulb just went off in his head.

“Do you remember if you taught someone this secret recipe of yours a few years back,” he asked slowly.

Tilting my head and humming I tried to think back. “Um, I’d like to say I did, but I tend to forget things pretty easily so it’s a little hard to say. Why?”

“Because I don’t think this ‘coincident’ is a coincidence at all. I’ve been having a weird sense of deja vu since you asked me that question at the microwaves,” he looked at me while I was still confused.

I shook my head lightly, trying to wrap my head around this. “Wait, so we’ve met before?”

He nodded as a small smile started to form on his lips.

“Then how come I don’t remember you? I feel like I would’ve,” I said, brows furrowing.

“Well, we had that run in back in 2015, so it makes sense that we wouldn’t recognize each other after 3 years. Plus, we weren’t that big in 2015 which also makes sense why you didn’t recognize me back then.”

Nodding, I hummed, taking all of this in. No wonder I thought it was interesting when I saw him add cheese to his ramen.

Now that I thought about it a little more it should’ve tipped me off that we might've met before when I noticed him adding cheese to his ramen since I really only teach that to a select few.

“I have to say… it’s pretty cool that you still remember that day,” I said with a smile starting to form on my face.

“How could I not! Because of that little interaction, we were inspired to make a song,” he said nonchalantly, leaning back and crossing his arms.

If I had something in my mouth at this exact time, I surely would've spit it out right now after the sudden epiphany I had hearing that statement.

“WAIT A SECOND! I’m ‘the girl from the convenience store’ that inspired you to write Converse High?!” I was quite literally at the edge of my seat as I leaned further over the table.

He was a little surprised at my reaction, but then looked to the side with a hint of a smile. “Well yeah, you kind of left a lasting impression with your ‘secret recipe’ and those red converse you wore.”

I chuckled at the thought of my converse leaving a lasting impression on someone so much so that they would write a song.

It was his time to lean forward, putting his elbows on the table and squinting his eyes just a bit, “How did you know that you were the girl that inspired Converse High?”

He dramatically gasped, putting a hand on his chest, “Were you secretly a fan back then and were just faking it to get close to me?”

I snorted and waved him off, “Please, I barely knew who BTS was back then so don’t flatter yourself too much, Min Yoongi.”

A slight frown appeared on his face, leaning back with his cross once again, "And the reason I know about the inspiration behind Converse High is because when I was doing research on what group Big Hit managed when I applied as a photographer, so I happened to come across a certain video of BTS at a radio station talking about the song.”

“I just didn’t think that your ‘mystery girl’ would have been me,” I said with a shrug, leaning back and crossing my arms, almost mirroring Yoongi, but he seemed a bit taken aback from the mention of “his mystery girl”.

He lightly scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, I might’ve talked about you a little too much in the dorms and that caused Jimin to think that I had a crush on you,” he rolled his eyes at how ridiculous Jimin’s thought was.

“In reality, I thought you were really cool and I was a little sad that I didn’t get your name because I wanted to get to know more about you. I remember the rest of the members scolding me for not asking your name”

I giggled, the smile staying on my lips, “I thought you were pretty cool too, you know. Back then, I mean. I would’ve loved to get to know you more too.”

“Maybe it’s not too late. If you want, we could get to know each other over some coffee tomorrow?”

It was my turn to be dramatic, gasping and placing a hand on my chest. “Is THE Min Yoongi asking me out to coffee?!”

He chuckled at my overdramatic question, but nodded.

“I would love to! Oh, we would have to get coffee sometime during the day, though, because I promised Yumi that I would go to the carnival with her tomorrow night. But it’s nothing official, so you can join if you want. We could just hang out,” I said.

He put his hand to his chin, as if in thought, “Sure I don’t see why not.”

I scoffed, shaking my head as a smile grew on my face.

“Great, then it’s a date!”

He started to mirror my smile, “Great, I can’t wait, uh…”

My smile instantly fell. “Don’t tell me that you don’t know my name? I’ve been working with you for years!”

He laughed, “Of course I do, but just humor me this once. I’m trying to right a past wrong, ok?”

I lightly shook my head.

“Fine.” I sighed, sticking out my hand toward him with a warm smile, “Y/n. Nice to meet you!”

He reached over and took my hand in his, “Nice to meet you too, I’m Yoongi.”

#bts x reader #suga x reader #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #suga x y/n #suga x you #yoongi x y/n #bts x y/n #bts fic #bts x you #bts fanfic

148 notes · View notes