#I think getting older has really made me appreciate him more

[sohnric]

partners in crime – j. changmin

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

pairing: ji changmin x fem! reader

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

wc: 33k (33.689)

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

playlist || teaser || ao3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, if you could call this casual.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s right– you wouldn’t.

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

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

“But my mother–”

“Just go.”

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

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

You’ll have to be more careful next time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And yet, it happened. Everything.

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

Strange, isn’t it?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ji Changmin chose the bad jewelry store to rob.

Or maybe, he chose the best one he could.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was this his hobby? A way to pass time?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Look–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Changmin,” you hum, acknowledging his presence.

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

“What is this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah? Then why did you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You should stay away.

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

“What is it, then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re a freak.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How can you even be so sure–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well? Go–”

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

“God, no. No, no, that’s–”

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

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

“You do?” she hesitantly asks.

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

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

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

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

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

Somehow, he has it all figured out.

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

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

“They are! Y/N, can I have some?”

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

“But–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It only takes one crying fit and an argument with your mother to find out the harsh reality– your mother fell for a loan that is too difficult to handle, one that makes you pay back fast and with big amounts monthly. She already had a warning. 

If she is late with her payment again, you lose everything.

“It’s… it’s difficult to pay it back,” you conclude, watching as Changmin only nods in understatement. The air around you is suddenly too heavy, but you figure the whole truth won’t hurt anyone. Maybe the weight on your shoulders would feel lighter if you finally tell someone– however selfish the sentiment feels. “If we don’t pay it back within the next few months, we will lose our house. My mother fell for a loan shark,” you say.

“All the years of her telling us to not fall for scams, and then she does this,” you mumble, trying to make fun of the situation. 

“Y/N, that’s–”

“I was also thinking of leaving one day,” you add as you cut him off, not letting him psychoanalyze you or make you feel like he pities you. “I was thinking of getting enough money to settle all of this and then just… move out. Disappear. I need to get away from this house before it suffocates me,” you bitterly laugh, seeing the boy shift his eyes from the ceiling back at you, pressing his lips into a tight line.

“I get you,” leaves his mouth after a heartbeat of silence. Never in your life have you feared being judged as much as in this moment. It’s strange to face your biggest fear– being vulnerable with someone, opening up to them about everything you’re going through– and find that it wasn’t at all as difficult. It’s strange to face your biggest fear and realize that maybe, you had nothing to be scared of in the first place.

It’s strange to hear that you’re understood. That somebody gets just how hard it is to breathe every day, walking through the house you grew up in, but which is now haunted. If it was anybody else, you’d try to argue with them. How could they understand? How could they possibly know what is going on inside of your head on a daily basis? How could they get the extent of how far you have to go every day just to survive and keep your sister out of the mess, totally unknowing?

Ji Changmin may not know everything about you, he may not be in the same situation, but still; he knows how you feel. Coming from a background like that, you don’t get to keep a lot of freedom either.

“It’s… it’s a work in progress. I don’t really have a plan either, I just… I just know I need to save up enough to sort things out, move out and leave everything behind. I can’t… I can’t keep doing this forever, y’know,” you shrug, snickering to yourself.

Changmin hums in understatement, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He looks so out of place in the middle of your white sheets, dressed in his all black attire. The contrast of his clothes and the brightness of your laundry cuts through all major parts of your life as well– where there’s anxiety, there’s also Changmin’s ability to turn everything into a joke. Where there’s mess and confusion, there’s Changmin’s calculated plans and thought-out strategies. Where there’s loneliness, there’s also Ji Changmin’s sheer presence next to you during the lunch break. It’s strange, just how quickly you found comfort in the serpent-like boy. It’s unfamiliar. The novelty of it all both scares you and comforts you all at once.

The boy is silent for a while before he speaks up, processing the information. As if knowing that there’s nothing he could really say to make you feel better about the situation– or fearing that anything he could utter out would make it worse– he entrusts you with a secret of his own.

“If I don’t get adopted before I turn 18– which, let’s be real, with my history and everything, won’t happen– I age out of the system and I’m all on my own,” he says, shrugging, “I’ll need money to get on my own feet. To leave, too. Fuck, I need to leave that house and this town. I need to start over somewhere where they won’t know every single thing that happened to me in the past.”

You hadn’t realized just how much your plans align when you first nodded to this agreement. You think it adds a sense of reliability now. Both working towards the same plan, knowing that if you fail, the other’s fate is at stake as well. 

Before this, you didn’t know just how serious it was for Changmin– you didn’t know if he needed the money on reckless spending, on buying drinks and cigarettes to chase down his boredom, or if there was a greater sense of ironical responsibility behind it all. Knowing that there’s so much on the table, so much of both of your future’s that are at risk if you don’t try your hardest to make your lives better– because no one else in the whole world will help you, it seems– brings a greater sense of alliance hang in the air between the two of you.

Shared secrets, plans, view of life. Shared responsibilities, burdens, desperation. That bonds two people like nothing else does.

“You can count on me, Y/N,” Changmin hums, tone of voice barely louder than a whisper. Your eyes don’t meet in the confidentiality of it all, but your heart still squeezes on itself. “I’ll get us out of this town even if it’s the last thing I do.”

The low murmur of the school cafeteria lands into your ears as you stand in the line for food, Changmin’s tall figure in front of you turning to face you, an annoyed sigh heaving out of his throat. “Now I remember why I never fucking go to this place.”

“Oh, right,” you nod, shrugging to yourself as if to show your absolute fury with the fact that you’ve been standing in the line for more than 10 minutes now, a third of your lunch break already passing by like a flash, “it was never because I was too broke. The line was always the problem.”

The male in front of you snickers at your ironic remark. You’re convinced you could count the amount of times you’ve been to the school cafeteria to buy lunch on the fingers of one hand. Most of the time, you take whatever remains of food you can find at home with you. Lunch money is reserved for your little sister only– and even that is on special occasions. Usually, you try to buy her the cheapest things you can find at the store downtown– the retailed bread that’s too old to sell at original price now, but still fresh enough to eat– but when you figure you have enough money in the week to spend, you give her enough to buy lunch at school. For you, buying your own warm lunch at school feels like a holiday. You’ve lived through more Christmases than cafeteria lunches, you think.

“Starting to doubt if it’s even worth it anyway,” Changmin fusses, folding his hands at his chest. You don’t think you’ve ever met a more impatient person than him. If things take too long, he gives up on them– like the line in the grocery store the other day. You made the mistake of inviting him to buy groceries with you, but when he realized the self-checkout lines were too long, he just carried your groceries out without paying, grinning at your shocked face the moment you unsuspectedly got out of the store. ‘It’s okay to steal from big corporations,’ he justified. ‘They won’t feel the loss.’

“Changmin, this is my first time buying lunch this year,” you sigh, “have some patience. Of course it’s worth it– it’s a celebration of our hard work.”

“Does this feel satisfactory?” he doubts, pointing a thumb behind him to show the line in front of you two– which, just by the way, moved a ton, meaning it’s gonna be your turn soon. 

“Not yet,” you admit, chuckling to yourself, “but the feeling will come once I bite into the soggy, half-cold pizza. Trust,” you point a finger to him and poke him in his stomach, that has, just by the way, growled in hunger three times since you’ve taken your place in the line for food.

“Of course you chose to get lunch on pizza day…”

“What do you have me for?” you scoff. “I have some culture.”

“Says the person who hasn’t seen Train to Busan before. Girl, you’re the farthest thing from cultured, trust me.”

“You call Train to Busan our national treasure?” you ask, blinking at the boy in pure confusion. You don’t trust a man like Ji Changmin to be the film critic of modern age, to be fair, but you think even this opinion is quite far-stretched.

Changmin furrows his brows at you, clicking his tongue. “You’re only saying that because you haven’t seen the movie.”

“Well, I haven’t been given the opportunity to watch it, so I don’t see how that’s my problem.”

The line finally moves and lets you two get your lunch. The lady behind the counter looks even less pleasant than you remember her– with more gray hair and a more tired expression on her face– and the food isn’t much either even by looking at it. Still, you feel a sense of satisfaction run through your veins when you look at the sad-looking plate. You earned this pizza. This soggy, bad, a little shoe sole-looking pizza. You put a lot of effort into buying this plate, and although it doesn’t necessarily represent the determination, at least it represents the morality of your earned money– and you know what, at the end of the day, you think that’s fair.

Walking away to one of the empty tables in the cafeteria, carrying your tray in both of your hands and following Changmin’s lead, you feel your stomach churn at the image of the pizza on your plate. It sure doesn’t look great, but it looks edible– you still consider it to be a reward.

However, before you get a chance to sit down and bite into the meal, your side suddenly comes in contact with something firm, yet soft, the impact of the hit making you stumble and fall over to the hard linoleum. The tray of food you’ve had in your hands is knocked out of your grasp, falling to the ground with a loud noise, and the force in which you hit the floor makes your butt sting in pain. The moment comes by like a blur, and before you even get a chance to register what happened, a train of apologies lands into your ears.

“Oh my god, Y/N, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to–” a boy a little shorter than Changmin (that’s just standing by your side, looking a little taken-aback, but still uninterested in the commotion, not at all trying to help you out), stutters out. You recognise him to be your classmate Eric Sohn– one of the people you’ve never really spoken to before, because you had no reason to do so. He is a loud extrovert, a people person, a bundle of never ending energy. He’s charismatic, but not someone you would find yourself hanging out with (not that you really hang out with anyone other than the criminal by your side anyway)– and a little inkling in your brain tells you that one of the reasons for this fact is Eric’s high social status. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, offering you his hand to bring you back up to your feet.

Wincing in pain as you take his grasp and get back into a standing position, you wonder if he was running– there was no way the sheer force of him walking would send you to the ground. Once you take a closer look at the boy, you notice his blushing cheeks and an incredibly guilty look on his face, notifying you of the fact that you haven’t replied to him yet, still too shocked by the events. “I’m okay, yeah,” you nod, eyes shifting to the plate on the ground. It didn’t break, but your pizza slice is very visibly on the ground– and no matter how desperate you are for food right now, you consider it too contaminated to be eaten.

“I am so sorry, Y/N, I wasn’t looking where I was going– oh god, your uniform is all dirty,” he points to your white button-down, now stained with the last remains of the soup that was seemingly in one of the plates your classmate was carrying.

“It’s… it’s okay–”

“I’ll pay for you to get it dry cleaned!” he stammers, eyes wide and bangs falling into his eyes, the boyish, panicked aura around him making you feel kind of bad for him. Which is strange– you are the one in pain and without lunch now. Not him.

“No, really, it’s okay, Eric… It was an accident–”

“And your lunch is ruined! God,” he grunts, scrambling to pick up all the dishes from the floor, cleaning up the mess. “I’ll get you a new one. Just… wait here, I’ll be right back!” the boy assures you, running off with the trays and plates, aiming for the area designated for discarding them. 

Like in a trance, you take a seat at the table, following Changmin. Scratching the back of your neck, you sigh and aimlessly stare at your companion, watching as he eats his pizza. Casually speaking the fact into existence, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, the male decides to make you choke at his words. 

“You should get on that, Y/N,” he notes, snickering.

“Huh?” 

“You know what I mean. Man’s rich as fuck, Y/N,” he says as he swallows down the bite, shrugging. “He’d fit perfectly into your little plan,” Changmin schemes, pointing a finger at your face.

“Stop being ridiculous,” you grunt, “why would I do that? He doesn’t even like me, so–”

“Oh, as if,” Changmin rolls his eyes, speaking with his mouth full, “he looked at you as if you were Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N. He clearly has a crush on you. And, respectfully, any man would want to get with someone like you– why do you think our plan is working so well? You’re hot enough, that’s why,” he shrugs, making you blink at the male in surprise.

Hot enough? Did Ji Changmin just call you hot? You’d rather not focus on that part of the exchange.

“Shut up, Changmin,” you sigh, “besides, I’m not doing that to him.”

“Why not? I thought our motto was ‘eat the rich’, no?” 

“Yeah,” you grunt, nodding to the boy, tone of voice ironic, showing him just how stupid he sounds right in this moment, “but it’s ‘eat the icky old rich men’, not ‘eat unsuspecting, innocent rich’, Changmin. Got it?”

“You’re missing out on–”

“I said no,” you cut him off, pointing a finger right in the middle of his forehead. Something about your authoritative tone gets the point across, making the boy sigh.

“Jeez, okay, if you really say so…”

Opening your mouth to continue on with the sentiment, you’re quickly cut off by Eric’s voice coming from beside you, the boy suddenly appearing at your table. “Here,” he says, a bashful look on his face as he puts the tray in front of you, two slices of pizza and a box of orange juice settled on the red plastic dish, “I’m really sorry again! And…” he starts, scratching the back of his neck, “and here is my number, so if you want me to… uh… pay for the cleaning of that, or whatever, just… let me know, okay?” he smiles awkwardly, pointing to a piece of paper settled under the juice box, having you blink up at him in surprise.

Before you get a chance to protest, Eric pays you two his goodbyes and rushes out of the cafeteria, cheeks red and an expression a little alarmed. You’re not an expert in body language, but the more you think about it, the clearer it gets. 

Ji Changmin is right. Eric Sohn does clearly have a crush on you. 

If that even means anything…

The house is silent. Your naked feet clad through your room as you open your drawer, fingers reaching for the soft fabric of your socks. It’s gotten a bit chilly, so you automatically go and try to warm yourself up with one of your thick garments. Fingers unraveling the sock ball, prepared to find dollar bills inside– already knowing you’ll take a part of it and give it to your sister in the morning so she can get some lunch at school– a momentarily shock washes over you when you find the sock ball empty.

Confused, you furrow your brows and check the insides of the socks. You remember very clearly that you put some of your money into this specific pair just a few days ago. 

Or maybe you didn’t… You’ve been tired the last few days. You could be remembering it wrong. Maybe this particular sock ball didn’t have money in it in the first place.

Still, you reach for another sock ball, hands a little shaky as you look through it. When you notice the lack of bills inside, your heart starts hammering against your chest, sweat appearing on your forehead. Searching through another one and another one and another one, you find all sock balls empty. There is no money where you hid it. It’s all gone.

Thousands of won gone. Vanished. Nowhere to be found.

Where could they go? Who could’ve taken them? 

In the few seconds that pass before the fact that all of your money is nowhere to be seen fully settles into your brain, your feet react on themselves and drag you out of the comfort of your room, making you jog downstairs. Reaching the living room, finding your mother laying on the sofa with a bottle of rum next to her on the ground, you feel the amount of patience you’ve had with her slowly overflowing, frustration taking its deserved place in your body as you scream at her sleeping figure.

“Did you take my money?” you yell, watching as your mother slowly opens her eyes at you and blinks in confusion, the alcohol haze around her stinking and making you sick to your stomach. The woman looks at you with zero ounces of sympathy behind her eyes, no words escaping from between her lips as she continues to wordlessly stare at you.

“Mum! Did you take my money?” you scream, clenching your hands into a fist, chewing on your bottom lip in frustration.

“I needed the money,” she says, a groggy voice cutting through the silent house.

Running your hand through your hair, an amused chuckle leaves your throat. “Did you use it all? Is it all gone?”

“I needed it,” she only adds, turning on her side and proceeding to ignore you, which makes fury hammer against your chest with more force than ever before.

“You needed the money. You needed it,” you laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “For what, mum? You needed the money to give to Aerin so she could have lunch? You needed the money to buy groceries? To pay for the bills when a man comes to our house and tells me we haven’t paid enough for our electricity bill? You needed the money for all of that, right?” you chuckle, frustration making you kick your foot against the side of the couch. 

“Or did you need the money to buy alcohol, mum? Is that what you needed it for? Is that more important?” you bite, watching as your mother looks at you with stern eyes, the words finally entering her bubble and getting to her heart.

“Don’t speak to me like that. I am your mother.”

“You’re only my mother when you want to scold me!” you yell back, your words resonating through the silence. “Why won’t you be my mother when I need to feed my sister? When I need to take care of the house? Why aren’t you my mother when I need you?!” you scream, a sob involuntarily dragging out of your throat as you finally verbalize the words you’ve been biting back since this whole situation arised. 

“I brought you to this life. I raised you!” she screams back, merciless words stabbing you in the back like daggers coming for your heart. “So when I say I needed the money, I have every right to take it!”

“Do you?!” you argue. “Do you. Did you earn that money, mum? Because the last time I checked, you got fired and the only person trying to keep this family afloat is me!” you scream, watching as your mother sits up in her place, a tired sigh escaping her throat.

“Don’t you dare yell at me!” she gestures with her hand. 

“Well, then don’t take what’s not yours! Because now, I’ll have to work my ass of to get all of that back, because you won’t try to get your fucking life together–”

“Don’t swear at me,” your mother drags out, tone of voice stone cold and serious. It sends chills down your spine, a teardrop trail down your cheekbone and towards your jaw. You have a staring contest with your mother, one in which you question just how much impact your argument has on her– if she recognises the fury and anger and translates it as grief, just like your insides have been doing for so long now. 

Behind her glossy eyes, there’s not much for you to read, though. You lost that ability a long time ago. It’s one of the things you mourn the most.

“Y/N?” you hear a small voice call from behind you. It has you snap your head around and watch your sister shrinking away in the doorway behind you, holding on to the wall. Aerin’s eyes are glossy and scared, shaking from you to your mother, her little face morphed in anxiety as she chews on her bottom lip in nerves.

That has your fury dissolving– at least on the outside. You can’t afford to fail at protecting your sister from everything. Wiping your own tears harshly, you clear your throat and move to her hunched-over body, placing a comforting palm on her back, leading her upstairs to her bedroom.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” you hum groggily, sniffling on your way to the top of the stairs, “it’s okay. Me and mum just didn’t… we had a bit of an argument, but it’s nothing to worry about.”

As you cover up your sister with the duvet on her bed, she looks at you with watery eyes, a little voice shaking as she inquires. “We don’t have money?”

“Of course we do, dummy,” you snicker, shaking your head. “We do. Don’t you worry, Aerin-ie. I’ll take care of everything, yeah? Get those worries out of your head.”

“But you said–”

“Let the adults deal with this, yeah? It’s gonna be fine.”

“But you’re not even an adult yet,” Aerin furrows her brows, restless eyes not closing as she tries to wrap her head around the situation. No child ever should worry about things like this. And she’s right– you’re not an adult yet either, but as the older one of you, you think it’s your responsibility to take care of things. Just because you can’t afford to not worry about your situation doesn’t mean you will let your sister down and drag her with you.

“That’s right,” you sniffle, laughing airly as you rub her upper arm through the fabric of the duvet, “so that means I can still share a bed with you, yeah?” you force a smile to your lips, watching as your sister nods and scoots over in her place, letting you hug her from the side and snuggle into the warmth of her sheets.

“Everything will be alright,” you whisper into her ear, trying hard to provide her head with some distraction.

It’s kind of ironic, if you really think about it. Both of your parents failed you, but you were only truly hit with the reality of your mother’s betrayal. Who is your father if not the first man to ever disappoint you, right? You came to peace with the fact a few weeks after he left for good– you thought you didn’t need him. You could be good without him.

It seems like your mother needed him more than anything, though. Sometimes, you wish she chose her children instead.

Holding your little sister to your chest, you decide to do everything to protect her. You’d do anything it takes if it means she won’t have to worry about her future. If that’s your responsibility, then so be it– you are more than willing to carry it.

“I don’t think this looks right,” you mumble as you stare at your reflection in the mirror, furrowed eyebrows on full display as the girl staring back at you doesn’t look half similar to how she usually appears. 

You’re wearing a skirt you bought from your savings last month– wanting to treat yourself to something nice– and a cropped shirt that shoves a trace of your skin in the midriff. You’re wearing your old shoes that admittedly throw off the whole look a little– but you don’t have anything else to wear, so that’s what you’re going with. The outfit wouldn’t be the strangest thing about your appearance today– although you’re not the one to wear skirts casually, with the only exception being your school uniform.

The thing that is throwing you off the most about your apparel is the coat of makeup on your face. You and Changmin walked into a drugstore after your classes were over, trying your hardest to make you look the most enchanting you can. You did your makeup with the testers, going through three different lipstick choices before your companion was satisfied, and only when you finally escaped the fluorescent lights of the store and looked at yourself in the daylight is when you realize just how different your face looks to its usual.

“It does,” Changmin shakes his head, standing up from his place on your bed and walking over to your figure, prompting a finger below your chin to angle your head a little, staring at you from up close. His eyes glaze over your skin, making your throat dry out from being so closely examined. “You look different, but it doesn’t look bad.”

“It doesn’t look good either,” you sigh, escaping his gaze and turning around in your place, watching yourself in the mirror once again. The male leans against the desk behind him, communicating from your behind.

A sigh escapes Changmin’s throat at your words, rolling his eyes. “Be serious for once. You look good.”

“My face is all cakey,” you frown.

“You only notice when you see it from up close,” Changmin says, “and I don’t think Eric’s gonna look at you from up close. He’d shit his pants.”

“You’re not helping.”

“That’s because you won’t let me help,” he grunts. “No matter how many times I tell you that you look good won’t change the fact that you won’t admit it to yourself.”

“I don’t look like myself.”

“You do!” he runs his hands through his hair, shaking his head in frustration. “You always look pretty, it’s just… today you look like you put more effort into your appearance,” Changmin huffs, his voice growing a little more quiet at the end of the sentence. Your eyes meet with his in the full-length mirror, watching as the tips of the boy’s ears tint a pink hue, the warmth spreading to his cheeks at the compliment that just so casually slipped through his lips. “Which– which is good, because you wanna look like you put effort into a date with a rich boy, y’know?” he adds, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

His words comfort you a bit. Trying hard not to meet his gaze in the mirror– because you suddenly feel a bit bashful under his gaze– you nod to yourself and focus on the hem of your skirt for the thousandth time, making sure it fits right against your skin. “How does one act on a date? I’ve never been on one.”

“You go on dates every week,” Changmin snickers.

“I meant real dates. The dates you have with people your age,” you roll your eyes, watching as the boy cheeses and shrugs to himself.

“Well,” he starts, “he already likes you. Like, a lot. So making him fall for you won’t be a problem, because I’m quite certain it already happened.”

His words have you feeling a little bad for Eric Sohn. He’s just an unsuspecting teenager that just so happens to be born into a rich family. He likes you– quite obviously so– and you’re going to break all the trust he has in you and use him for your own personal gain. It’s not morally good to do anything like this. You should be ashamed of yourself.

But then again, you think of all the paths you have to take just to survive. You lost a lot of money, and you need to get it back again– and you need to do it fast. 

There’s no time for you to feel bad for Eric. You have to think of your sister first.

“I think you just have to pretend you like him back. Like… listen to him when he talks about boring stuff. Smile a lot– he’ll go crazy over your smile. Don’t be too touchy on the first date, or else it would come off as you being too eager, but if you manage to get a casual touch in without being too clingy, that’s bonus points,” Changmin hums, listing off all advice he can think of.

“Just be yourself, honestly. You have the guy wrapped around your finger anyway,” Changmin shrugs. “Let him pay for everything. Abuse the power you hold, Y/L/N.”

Nodding to yourself, you take a mental note of everything Changmin told you. “I don’t think it’s really fair to him, still.”

“Well, when was ever life fair to you?” he asks, tone of voice suddenly more sincere, more tender than the usual way he speaks to you. It has your eyes meeting again in the mirror, an unspoken understatement making you feel a tinge of bittersweetness in your insides, your gaze communicating the words you can’t quite materialize into existence.

The eye contact is broken as the male stands up from his place and pokes your exposed midriff with his finger, laughing at seeing you squirm before he dives into your bed sheets once again, a muffled yell sent your way from the cushion of your pillow.

“Go get him, tiger!”

“Why don’t we finish this at my place?” the man– you think his name was Baekho– asks you with a suggestive smile on his face after he pays for your dinner. 

This man was particularly hard to get to. He seemed smarter than the others– keeping his belongings close to himself, paying more attention to his surroundings. You and Changmin didn’t manage to go along with your initial plan, which made you tense on the inside as it was– his suggestion only made your heart drum harder against your ribcage, the self-preservation instinct within you telling you to run.

“I am actually not really feeling well, so I’ll head home,” you nod, a stern smile fighting its place onto your lips. 

“Don’t be silly,” the male opposes, shaking his head at you like you would at a child when it does something wrong and you can’t believe a human like that will someday grow into a fully functioning adult, “the night is still young, baby.”

Standing up from your place, following his motions, you turn your head sharply around and send a look full of worry to your companion. Changmin raises his eyebrows at you in question, but for the sake of your secrecy, you don’t pay him much of an answer in fear of where an explicit call for help would lead you. 

“Thank you so much for the dinner, really,” you try to seem welcoming, you try to play it off and put up a nonchalant facade, smiling at the man that towers over you, “but I really should get going.”

“Let me give you a ride home, then,” he insists, glazing your elbow with his hand, making you shudder at the action, acid hunting your tongue.

“That won’t be necessary, I don’t live far–”

“Oh, don’t be stupid. Let me show you my car,” the male grunts, harshly gripping your elbow and dragging you away from the restaurant.

One of the biggest mistakes you made today was the fact that you chose to meet with this man in the evening. Most of the dates you go on happen in the afternoon, providing you with more sense of safety– you should’ve known that this gathering would end differently to all the other ones you’ve been to. You get dragged away into one of the poorly-lit alleys, no cars in sight, and you swear you can feel the imprint of his hand burning on your skin.

“Please, let me go so I can–”

“So you think you can just go on a date with someone like me, bribe me to buy you dinner, and then leave me nothing in return? That’s not how it works around here, sweetheart,” the male grits through his teeth, dragging you along the alley despite you trying to wrestle your way out of his grip.

He’s stronger than you, and he’s taking that into advantage. The danger in your chest hammers stronger than any time before, alerting you of the fact that if a miracle doesn’t happen, you’re going to either die tonight, or be marked by the events of this date forever. Oh, what a foolish idea it was to go along with this. You should’ve known this was bound to end in a disaster from how well it’s been going since the start.

Trying to kick around in the male’s grip, huffing and screaming out– but knowing nobody’s going to hear you in the buzz of the nightlife– you gulp on nothing and try to use all your adrenaline for getting yourself out of the situation. 

“Stop squirming, you know it’s not going to help you–” 

The male suddenly grunts, a wince of pain flashing through his eyes. 

A miracle happens. Ji Changmin with his mask pulled up and his cap down low shielding his face appears in your point of vision, a bloody knife in his hand. When your shaky pupils look around, taking in your surroundings, you notice the man crouching down and holding his leg, growling like a wounded animal. 

Too shocked to do anything yourself, you let Changmin drag you behind him with his arm, shielding you from the man. You faintly notice him launching after your companion, but before he has a chance to fight with him, Changmin puts the knife up, threatening the male. You haven’t seen him fight anyone before– only heard of the quarrels he’s gotten into in the foster home or on the streets– but something about his swift movements and the kicks aimed at your attacker makes you feel a little safer, a tinge of relief flowing through your veins. He looks like he knows what he’s doing. He seems to have the situation at least partially under his control.

“Run!” you hear Changmin yell at you, only paying you attention for a spare second as he looks at you over his shoulder. 

You do as you’re told, but still keep looking back at your savior, watching as he kicks the man into his crotch area and slices the knife against the skin of his upper hand before he stabs him again, the pained groans echoing against the walls of the alleyway. There’s something terrifying about Changmin’s skills, leaving you wondering where he learned all of this– but before you get a chance to ponder on the origins of his self-defense skills any further, you hear his voice calling for the male.

“Don’t follow us, or this will end up worse,” he growls, still threatening the male with the pocket knife. “Try to go after us and I’ll tell the police you’re a pedophile– she’s only 17. You heard me?”

When the male doesn’t give him a reply, Changmin lets out a satisfied snicker. “That’s what I thought.”

Changmin runs up to you and drags you by your hand, tugging you out of the alleyway. The bloody knife is quickly hidden in his pocket as you charge through the streets, making sure you’re as far away from the man as possible. You stumble a little over your feet, making Changmin hold onto your hand a little stronger, dragging you behind a corner of a 24/7 bistro on the end of the street two blocks away, hiding you from the sight of the main road by the shade behind the building.

“Shit, are you okay?” he asks, looking you over with examining eyes. His shaky fingers take ahold of your chin, turning your face around to see any possible damage, letting go only when he’s sure there are no bruises on your cheeks, gripping your shoulders instead, breathing heavily. “Fuck. I’m so sorry,” he sighs out, his composure faltering a little, the contrast between him from a few minutes ago to now so big it leaves you weak in your knees.

“I’m okay,” you nod, barely registering the shakiness of your own voice.

The words have him tugging you close to him, arms wrapping around your body. He holds you as if he’s making sure you’re still there, all intact and alive, a hand sneaking into your hair petting it in an affectionate act you’ve never received from the male in the months you’ve spent working with him. “I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault,” you choke out. The previous sense of danger slowly evaporates out of you, heart relaxing, your brain getting the signal that you’re finally safe and sound. Closing your eyes for a minute, you allow yourself to mold against his figure, foolishly adjusting to the way his grip around you brings you a sense of newly found serenity and calm.

“Kinda is. We’re never doing this again,” he says, and if you tune in with his body hard enough, you feel a slight tremble of his arms. 

“It’s fine, we can–”

“No,” he sighs, “there’s other ways. Safer ones.”

And it’s kind of strange– the way Ji Changmin demonstrates that your safety matters to him more than the money gain you’ve been both chasing after for the past few months. The things you two do to get by are never morally right and never the safest options, but when he lets go of you and holds his face in his hands before giving you a head pat, you know what he means: he’ll rather take the harder way than to leave you so vulnerable ever again.

Your shoes get discarded at the doorstep and your feet are quickly put into the guest slippers that reminds you too much of the ones you see in fancy hotels on the TV– the white, thin footwear you wear only to be polite, since they do nothing to keep your feet comfortable or warm, your heels thudding against the floor with as much force they would’ve if you wore only your socks. Eric takes off your coat and hangs it in the hall, like the true gentleman he was raised to be, and leads you into the house.

The ceilings are high, walls are various shades of white and cream, floors either mirror-like marble or expensive, hard wood. The whole house looks like it was taken out of a furniture catalog or made for one, everything fitting together in a simple, yet polished beauty. The decorations are simple and sleek, but they still make the whole place look put together. The floors are clean, not a speck of dust on either of the bookshelves you pass when the boy leads you into the common area, not a single mug misplaced or a dish forgotten in the sink. The air is fresh in the spacious rooms, yet it’s still quite overbearing, not letting you breathe.

“Do you want anything to drink?” he asks, almost a little nervously.

“Just water is fine, thank you,” you smile, agreeing. Your throat is suddenly dry, almost begging for the cold liquid to splash down and hydrate it a bit before you completely choke out.

Eric nods, leaving you alone in the living room. The big plasma TV seems to be framed against the wall, like an artwork in the gallery, and although it still gets a look full of awe out of you, you find the sentiment a bit ridiculous to look at. You feel like you’re in the Truman show– everyone’s watching your reactions through the camera, laughing at the fact that this is the first time you’ve set your foot into a place filled with so many expensive things, making you scared to even move in fears of breaking something more than your yearly rent. You must look like a deer in the headlights, clueless and shocked at the state of your surroundings, and it suddenly makes you self conscious as you decide to walk around the room and focus on what you’re here for– the plan.

Eyes scanning the contents of vitrines, the crystal glasses and expensive wine bottles, you try hard to mentally calculate the worth of everything in the house– you find yourself failing, though, since you can’t even tell just how much each thing costs, too far out of your league to even assume the price tag. There’s a particular display of jewelry you recognise from back when you worked in the store, scoffing when you add up the prices of the chains you once sold to an old man wanting a gift for his wife’s birthday– something about the number of digits making you feel just the tiniest bit infuriated.

How come some people have so much, yet you have so little? What makes them deserve it and makes you work tirelessly to afford a living? Why can they afford vacations in Greece and Dubai, yet you keep gluing together the last remains of your money to buy groceries for your sister?

It’s ridiculous. It’s frustrating.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you move towards a wall filled with pictures– each framed in a white or silver frame so they fit together like a jigsaw puzzle for your eyes, aesthetically pleasing each guest that’s ever crossed the threshold of the house– gazing at the memories captured on the photos. 

You recognise the little boy on all of them to be Eric. There’s a girl, a few years older than him, but undoubtedly his sister, with her arm around his shoulders, a silly smile plastered on both of their faces so similar the resemblance is uncanny. There are a few pictures with all 4 of them on the wall as well, sun shining into their eyes as they all squint into the camera, posing in front of various monuments. A few of the mementos are from the beaches of Europe, some are from the hiking trails of Asia, and the one with Eric’s hair longer and in little curls, very obviously one of the most recent ones with how much he resembles the boy currently in the kitchen fetching you with a glass of water, standing on a surfboard, was taken in the waves of the american west coast. You remember him saying something about having family there, so it’s not unusual for him to visit often.

A knife laced with the green poison of jealousy cuts you somewhere into your abdomen. It’s not only the expensive luxuries he gets to experience that make you long for a life like his– it’s also the carelessness, the joy. It’s the care you see in his parents’ eyes on the pictures, the obvious love shared in the photographs– they’re taken not to boost their privilege, but to remember their happiest moments. You wish you had something like that. A functional family. One that cares for each other. One that doesn’t put obstacles under each other’s feet.

“Here you go,” Eric’s voice wakes you up from the slumber, making you jolt and take the glass of water he’s offering to you into your grasp, taking a sip.

“Thanks,” you nod, smiling. 

Watching Eric from under your eyelashes, you notice his eyes glazing the frames you’ve been focusing on before. Licking his lips, the boy speaks up with a voice laced with genuine absurdity, pointing towards the wall. 

“You must think this is just ridiculous,” he notes, scratching the back of his neck. Eric Sohn isn't stupid– although he grew up in luxury, he can still recognise the imbalance of resources the two of you have. You don’t know why he is being self-conscious about it, though.

“Not really,” you note, shrugging, “it’s just… quite unbelievable, to be fair.”

“Yeah,” he snickers, “we don’t really go on many vacations anymore, to be honest. We used to go on many when I was a kid,” he says, making you recognise the fact that most of the pictures did indeed look older– back from when Eric was younger. 

You never really went on vacations when you were little. There was always something that got into the way– your parents either had a fight just in the middle of the summer, or you simply didn’t have enough money to travel anywhere, since you were surviving from paycheck to paycheck. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you start to wonder about the difference it makes to miss something you once used to have, and the desire for something you never got to experience. Which one is worse? Or are they not really comparable at all?

“My dad started working much more, so he doesn’t really have time. My sister got married, so she has her own family to worry about,” he shrugs, trying hard to play it casual– somewhere in the depth of his dark orbs, though, you notice that he’s battling away the fact that it upsets him. “I was really close with my sister,” he chuckles, pointing towards one of the picture frames where she’s putting up a peace sign behind his head, photobombing their own picture together, “I miss her sometimes.”

The role of the older sister is perhaps the one you try your hardest to keep. Will your little sister miss you the same way Eric does now with his own sibling? Will it hurt her less or more? Will she resent you? You can’t imagine a world in which your sister hates you– do you choose to protect her always, or do you take a step forward so you can breathe too?

“Does she visit you at all?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he hums. “It’s just not the same. That’s alright, though,” he shrugs, pressing his lips together into a tight line, “little Eric had a very happy family, at least. Can’t complain about that.”

And when you lock eyes with him, the sympathy oozing into the spacious, silent, almost lonely-looking place, you recognize the reality of it all– that no matter how fortunate you are in life, no matter how much money you have, there will always be struggles. Life always has its way of finding your weak spots and hitting where it hurts, strangling you and leaving you breathless in the battle of it all. You either don’t go on vacations at all, or you once did and now you can’t– either way, it hurts to think of what ifs and to remind yourself of all that once was and is now wasted. 

For the first time since you met Eric Sohn, you start to see him as human. You start to see him as someone with his own life, his own emotions, his own struggles. 

Maybe Changmin was wrong to tell you to get closer with the male. Now, having the insight to his thoughts, having the image of his once so idyllic life that’s now so far away, lonely, makes it harder for you to think of what you’re supposed to do when the time comes– mercilessly, completely selfishly. 

You’re not so sure you can proceed with the plan anymore. 

You miscalculated your abilities.

“Do you really need to write it all down?” you squint at your companion, feeling at least a little comical when you watch him scribble down a list onto a lined sheet of paper, blue ink twinkling in the sun. 

“Yeah,” he nods, totally focused on the task at hand. “So we don’t miss out on any important information. Everything’s useful.”

A sigh leaves your mouth at that, making you shaking your head in disbelief. Changmin is currently laying on his stomach in the grass, not a picnic blanket in sight– just his bare shirt against the ground– and as you sit cross legged against the tree in the very corner of the park, enjoying the breeze playing with your hair, you start to wonder just how innocent and carefree you must look to the rest of the people. Just two friends enjoying their weekend in the park. Nothing else. No shady business going on– you promise!

“So you said there was a bunch of jewelry?” Changmin asks, tapping the glitter pen against his chin. You don’t really know where he came across one, but you don’t dare to ask. You know he was eyeing one of the fancy glitter gel pens in the dollar store when you last went to buy a notebook for class with him after school, so you guess you know the source of his newest shiny toy. He’s like a crow, you think. Both with the love for anything that glimmers and the love for stealing.

“Yeah,” you hum, “like at every rich person’s house,” you shrug, not really knowing what his deal was.

“Okay, good. Visible? Unprotected?”

“Are you asking if it was locked like in a jewelry store?” you snicker, rolling your eyes at him. “Because if so, the answer is no, Changmin. Who in their right mind has their personal belongings locked in their own home? Right. No one.”

“Just making sure. I don’t know how it works with rich people, I’ve never been one of those,” Changmin hums, not paying your sarcastic remarks much mind. “But this is good, it works in our favor. What other valuables have you laid your eyes upon during your visit?”

You try to think back to the day you went over to the Sohn’s mansion. You didn’t really see the majority of the house– since Eric didn’t give you a full tour and you didn’t really think it was appropriate to ask for one– so all you know about the stuff he has at home is from the living room, the entry hall and his bedroom. 

“A game console of some kind? I don’t know, dude…”

“A PS5?”

“God, I dunno,” you mumble, furrowing your brows at the boy. “Do I look like an expert?”

“Right,” he sighs, licking his lips. “Well, we can only assume. Next?” 

His glitter pen scribbles the words ‘PS5 (?)’ into the notepad right below the words ‘expensive jewelry’, making you chuckle. You really don’t know what he’s trying to achieve over here– well, the main goal is clear, you’d say– you just don’t really know why he has to have a complete list. It’s not like you’re going to rob his house of everything. You don’t have the capacity to do all that.

“Well, I don’t know. I doubt you want me to carry out his plasma TV or something, so I think this is all I can really give you right now,” you mumble, shrugging. “As if this whole thing isn’t totally immoral in the first place.”

“Y/N, sweetie, I told you to forget about morals long ago.”

“Not everyone is morally gray by default, Changminnie. It takes a while to recalibrate,” you say, rolling your eyes at his phlegmatism. If only you could live your life with Ji Changmin’s mindset. You bet handling a lot of things would be much easier.

Eyes searching through the trees and the greenery, you take a mental note of your sister’s whereabouts. You’re glad you were finally able to take her out of the house. Her friends invited her out, and although it’s only in the neighborhood, you’re much happier with keeping an eye on her, just in case. You’re much more concerned with safety of your little sister ever since you came in contact with breaking the law– you realized just how many people with bad intentions are on the planet, and although you’re not one of the people engaging in child trafficking, something about tasting danger on your tongue makes you feel more cautious when it comes to Aerin’s safety.

She is currently laughing at something with her friends before she runs off, seemingly playing tag. The park is big enough for the girls to roam around without getting on the road, and it’s good for her to get some physical activity in. Shifting your attention back to Changmin, noticing him doodling shapes in the corners of his notebook, your mind settles back into conversation with him.

“Or maybe you’re just starting to like your boyfriend a little too much,” Changmin scoffs, making you furrow your brows in confusion.

“I don’t think me not feeling 100% happy with planning to rob someone I know is the cause of me suddenly being in love with my fake boyfriend,” you note, “that’s just, y’know. Being a human being with basic empathy.”

“Fake boyfriend?” Changmin repeats, completely disregarding the rest of your sentence.

“Well, it’s not exactly real, is it?” you laugh, a hint of discomfort on your tongue. “Makes me feel kinda bad, but–”

“So you’re dating?”

Blinking once, then twice at the boy in front of you, you scratch the back of your neck in nerves. “Is that not what you wanted me to do?”

“No, it is, it’s just… is it, y’know, official?”

“Define official.”

“Does he call you his girlfriend?” 

Plucking a stem of grass from the ground, twirling it around in your fingers– because looking into Changmin’s eyes is suddenly too unbearable in this situation– you shrug. “Sometimes.”

“Ah,” the male nods, an unreadable expression sitting at his face. “So it’s pretty official, then.”

Not really giving him an answer to this argument– both because you’re suddenly a bit embarrassed, cheeks burning and ears ringing (even though you really don’t know what made you have this reaction, since you have no romantic feelings to your current significant other) and because you don’t really know what to say– you only chew on the inside of your cheek, examining the greenery in between your pointer and your thumb.

“Have you two kissed already?” Changmin asks, quite confidentially, making you kick him in the side of his thigh.

“God,” you sigh out, shaking your head. “No!”

The male in front of you clicks his tongue, a grin spreading over his features. There’s a boyish sparkle behind his eye, his expression not understandable to you, making your insides squeeze in a weird tinge of anxiety. “What?” you ask, but get no reply– just a soft laugh coming out of his throat, battling its way to your heartstrings.

“Nothing.”

“Changmin! What’s so funny?” you ask, hiding your cheeks into the palms of your hands. “It’s just– I don’t wanna do it if I don’t like him like that, y’know? It’s not as embarrassing as you make it to be–”

“Not for you, that is.”

“Changmin!”

“What?” he asks, the dimple on his cheek at full display when he faces you, clearly amused at your reaction. “Look, it’s just that if it was me–”

“Changminnie! Changminnie!” a high-pitched, female voice cuts your friend off, making both of you turn your heads towards the source currently running to you at full speed, laughter escaping your little sister’s throat.

“I bet you can’t catch me!” Aerin says, touching your friend by his shoulder to tag him into the game before she runs off, the rest of her friends looking behind their backs and watching as he scrambles up from his lying position, a smile of a beaming sun plastered onto his face.

You never learn what Changmin wanted to tell you that day. You don’t ask later– you forget, not really deeming the information as that important. The memory you have of the afternoon spent in the park is mostly the image of your friend running after your sister, the laughter of the little girl resonating through your brain like a distant taste of childhood you wish to visit.

Ji Changmin is a fast runner, but he makes sure to play according to the girls’ pace. His voice is cheerful as he taunts them, calling after them in the spacious park, and when he looks back over his shoulder at you, eyes locking, your heart is left soaring in your chest before an invisible hand pierces through your lungs and takes the muscle into its hold, as if to offer it to him.

You wish to make your sister’s laugh last forever. You hope to make her joy prominent in the memories of her childhood. You pray she never turns bitter.

And when one of the girls starts chasing after Changmin, her legs half as long as the boy’s, pace slower and muscles more tired, you watch the boy theatrically trip and fall to the ground, shielding his fall with his outstretched arms. The girls laugh as he loses the game, getting tagged, and after the male almost comically slowly gathers back up to his feet again, a thought flashes through your brain– how amazing life would be if it was just you three in it– just you, Aerin and Changmin, spending your afternoons together, free of any trouble.

How happy life would be if every afternoon went like this. How good life would be if you spent days together just like this, like family. 

For the first time since your decision, you start to doubt your life plan. How can you leave a fantasy like this behind? 

How could you ever leave your little sister alone?

“It’s happening soon, right?” Changmin asks, the two of you sitting next to each other on the bus stop. Changmin sometimes takes the bus back to the foster home after class when neither of you have plans, but due to your poor time management skills and awfully slow pace of packing your things up, it just so happened that the poor boy missed the earlier bus– which you tried to repay him for with offering him both your chocolate milk and your time as you stayed with him on the bus stop and waited for the nearest bus to the other side of the town with him.

“Hm?” you ask, a little confused at first. Then, it dawns on you. “Ah. Yeah, I guess.”

Changmin’s voice is soft, almost careful when he talks about the topic. You don’t often discuss your plan out loud together. It happens once a fortnight– after sealing the deal in the school yard that day, there always was a feeling of mutual understanding hanging over the two of you that said that even though it’s the reality you’re striding towards, you don’t really mention it out loud. As if not to jinx it. 

Or maybe, the both of you just don’t really want to discuss something so difficult. It’s easier to prepare for it when you pretend it’s easy. When you don’t open up about just how scared the both of you clearly are.

“Are you… are you ready?” he asks, making you look at him with confused eyes, a hearty chuckle escaping your throat.

“As ready as I’ll ever be– which actually, just for the record, means no,” you say, watching as your companion hums and nods to himself, head clearly full of thoughts he’s a little afraid to say out loud. 

You don’t blame him. Not at all, actually. Your own mind is full of conflicting thoughts and feelings, a battle of morality and selfish desire making a pit open in your stomach every time you think of the next step of your little plan. A part of you desperately needs to leave, to settle things once and for all, but another part of you is still hesitant. Maybe there’s another way. Maybe you could do something about it. Maybe you could try contacting your father again– one more call left to be sent into the voicemail really won’t hurt you right now.

You’ve been thinking a lot of similar things lately. Questioning the nature of your plan. Wondering if you’ll succeed, if it’s all worth it.

You don’t really talk about it, though. Not until now. You don’t know what gets you so weak and fragile. 

“What if… what if there’s another way?” you ask, watching as the boy’s head spins to face you, eyes glossy as they stare back to yours.

“Hm?” he seems confused. “What do you mean?”

A little sigh escapes your throat at that, your head turning so you face the road again. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you shrug. “I was just… I was just thinking, like… what if there’s a way for me to do all of this without leaving? Y’know, I could just…” you trail off, not really finishing your sentence. Truth is, you don’t really know where you were going with that statement either. Maybe you just said it out loud in hopes that Changmin would finish it and figure it out for you, offer you a different perspective, make a new plan– a plan where neither of you leave, a plan where neither of you have to cut ties with everything you know back home.

That’s a foolish thought, though. “What? Get 20 million won in a month a different way? A legal one? You’re gonna get another loan, or something?” Changmin chuckles, not really taking you seriously. Or maybe he is– you just feel a bit childish for having such unrealistic views.

“I don’t know,” you say, jaw clenching. “Maybe I could get another job, and start going on those dates again, and–”

“Yeah, no,” Changmin cuts you off, a huff escaping his lungs. “I know it’s hard, Y/N, but this is all you can do. This is the last resolution, or else you’re gonna lose your house, your mum will be homeless, and you two with Aerin will either end up with your dad– which is unlikely, from what you’ve told me– or at the foster home. If you’re lucky, maybe they’ll put you both to the same one–”

Something about his words feels like daggers are thrown into your skin. Like poison is on his tongue and you’re getting burned with each honest sentence that is uttered out your way. The truth hurts, it makes you feel like he’s only adding salt to an open wound, and it’s not fair of you to react that way– you’re certainly aware– but you can’t help it. The world is toppling over onto you, the weight is all on your shoulders, and you feel totally, utterly helpless. You feel overwhelmed. You feel tired.

“Okay, I get it,” you cut him off, shaking your head in a dismissive way and rolling your eyes at the boy. “It’s just that I don’t really like the thought of doing illegal stuff just to survive, y’know? It’s not exactly easy to steal and do all of this shit, and then leave. I know it must seem fun to you, since–”

“Fun?” Changmin cuts you off. A heartbeat of silence passes by between the two of you, and suddenly, you know you’ve crossed the line. You and Changmin can tell each other many things, but this time, you sound a lot like the people judging him on the street. You sound a lot like the police officers always letting him off without punishment– he’s a kid from the foster home. He does this stuff for attention, doesn’t he? For fun. For satisfaction. He doesn’t know any better– that’s how he was raised. Right?

“Fun,” he repeats. “You think I’m doing this for fun, huh?” he chuckles. You notice his knee bumping up and down in the periphery of your vision, a nervous action just begging to tick you off. “That’s not exactly something I expected you to say, but okay–”

“Well, that’s how we fucking ended up here in the first place, didn’t we?”

“I’ve been doing this for you!” he spits, voice rising and making you flinch. “For you, and for me. For our fucking futures,” he says. You refuse to look at him even when he stands up from his place on the bench, situating his figure in front of your body still hunched up on the hard wood. “I’ve been doing this for the both of us, because we deserve a better life than this, Y/N.”

“A better future?” you laugh, bitterness dripping off your tongue. “In hiding. On a run.”

“Do you prefer being homeless? Being thrown into the foster home for a few days before you age out of the system and your little sister is left there with the other kids? Kids like me?” he says mercilessly, only adding gas to the fire. 

“You know that’s not what I meant–”

“Oh, trust me, Y/N, I know,” he says, irony slipping through his words. “You’re just saying this because you’re scared. Because you feel selfish–”

“And isn’t it true, Changmin? Isn’t selfish what we both are?” you say, your eyes finally meeting with the boy’s. His hair is disheveled as if he’s been running his hands through it in frustration, eyebrows furrowed and a displeased expression is sitting at his features. On most days, Ji Changmin looks like a cunning fox– full of mischief, full of secrets. Now, though, it’s like you see right through him. Somewhere along the way, you feel like you’re the one that started building up a wall in the middle of this argument. “How could I ever just leave my sister there? You could never understand–”

“I can’t, huh?” he says, nothing close to the gentle softness in his voice now, all disappearing from when he spoke to you just a few minutes ago. His voice is harsh, hoarse, even, something behind his eyes shifting in the middle of the fight. “Why? Because I don’t have siblings? Because I have nothing to lose?”

“You wouldn’t know how leaving someone behind feels,” you let out, but even as you’re saying it, you feel immediately disgusted with yourself. How could you ever say this to his face? 

Changmin looks like he was slapped in his face. You swear he winces at your words, bottom lip trapped between his lips as he stares you down. The corners of your eyes start burning like there’s been acid poured into your sockets, hands trembling in the reality of your words. The boy in front of you nods to himself, harshly breathing in.

“I wouldn’t know how leaving someone behind feels,” he repeats, nodding to himself. “Yeah. You’re right. Because I don’t have anyone,” he admits. “I don’t have siblings like you do. I never met my parents, because they never gave a shit about me enough to keep me in their lives in the first place. Nobody fucking cares at the foster home, because I can’t seem to make meaningful connections with anyone. And you know what, yeah. It’s just so easy for me, because there’s no one here who would give a single flying fuck if I leave, because they don’t even really care if I’m alive or dead.”

“Changmin–”

“Just say it, Y/N. Say nobody cares,” he says, eyes stone cold, an avalanche taking place in your lungs. It’s hard to breathe and your eyes are hazy, fists crawling in themselves as you relish in the catastrophe you’ve caused.

“That’s not what I–”

“And you know what? Maybe you’re right, Y/N. I have nothing to lose, I am not leaving anyone behind, I wouldn’t know how it feels. Call me selfish, for all you like. Call me selfish for wanting something for myself, for wanting to leave this town and start over somewhere new. I don’t care. I’m doing this for myself,” he says, the noise of an approaching car landing in your ears through the sound of his words. “But don’t you fucking dare give up on your future just because you feel guilty. Don’t you dare call yourself selfish when you’re doing everything you can to keep the rest of your family afloat. Don’t call yourself selfish when you’re paying back a loan that isn’t yours and taking care of your sister’s future by doing all of this alone, yeah?”

A hot trail of liquid falls down your cheek as you hear the bus approaching the stop. Taking a shaky breath in, you open your mouth to say something– anything– but no words come out.

“And I know it’s hard for you. I know you’re tired, I know you’re exhausted and I know you’re scared and god do I wish I could make this easier for you, but Y/N, don’t you ever say it’s fun or easy for me, when I’ve been putting everything on line trying to help you. To help us.”

The bus door opens. Like a child that’s being scolded, you refuse to meet his eye. There’s shame flowing through your veins, embarrassment creeping up your neck. It feels like you betrayed him. Like you cut right where it hurts, tried to use everything you had on him against him, hitting all his weak spots– all because you were suddenly too prideful to admit to yourself that you’re scared and wallowing in guilt. It’s hard to bear the weight alone. You wish you could make Changmin feel guilty. 

That’s something he won’t understand. It doesn’t make it easier for him, though. He was right– you could never do any of this differently. You could also never do any of this alone. 

“And if you still think it’s selfish, then, well,” you hear him sigh, “I think it’s okay to be selfish sometimes. I think it’s fair of you to be selfish right now,” he says, the words both feeling like a hug and a punch to your sternum, leaving you cut open in the empty road.

“I’ll see you on Monday.”

The bus drives off, the boy’s figure peeling itself off your proximity, entering the other side of the town. You sit at the bus stop for a long while after, aggressively wiping your tears away with the back of your palm, embarrassed to cause such a scene. You never meant to fight with him. You never meant to act like a toddler, playing the victim in a situation that you sadly cannot change, in a situation you unfortunately cannot solve in any better way. 

Ji Changmin is the only person you can lean on in this situation. You feel bad for using him as your punching bag. You’re deeply flawed to take it out on him. 

In the silence of the street, the thought hits you with full force, making your knees weak and your throat dry up like the desert, a dagger straight through your heart as you realize you’re the only person Changmin would be leaving behind. 

And after everything you two went through together, he would never do such a thing. Ji Changmin will hold on to you like a lifeline, because you’re everything he’s got– everything he keeps fighting for. He could give up on everything, had you not been on board. 

He could never give up on you, though.

Warm sunlight peeks through the windows as you sit in silence side by side, neither of you daring to say anything, as if you were scared to break the atmosphere hanging over the calm library. You and Changmin haven’t talked to each other much the whole day, something in the air remaining tense and strained after your previous argument on Friday, but you still tagged along with him when he asked you if you wanted to do homework with him in the library. This is the first time you see your companion doing any school work at all, so you figure you don’t want to pass out on the revolutionary moment– and also, you still feel kind of bad about your latest interaction. You take the fact that he invited you to spend more time with him as a good sign, though. 

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you decide to break the bubble and move a little in your place, reaching for something inside of your bag. Changmin promptly ignores your movements, but when a carton of banana milk appears in his vision, he pays you a glance. 

You’re too prideful to say sorry with words. You don’t want to mention it and go back to the topic you were discussing, much preferring to let things be the way they were before you had an emotional outburst at the bus stop. While you can’t say you aren’t glad that the words are now out in the open, the two of you are more vulnerable in front of each other than ever, you really don’t think you can handle another argument. Some things are better left unsaid. Ignored. There was mutual understanding over you two anyway– there was no use saying those things out loud.

And when you move the banana milk closer to Changmin’s elbow resting on the table with a push of your pointer finger across the dark-wooden desk, you see his eyes softening. He understands, taking the drink into his hand and tearing the plastic off the straw, sucking in the beverage. Ji Changmin accepted your offering, and somehow, you feel like there was some weight lifted off your shoulders, a force unsqueezing your heart. 

“You’re not working on your homework?” he asks, voice hushed in the silent library.

“No,” you shake your head, deciding to lean over the desk and rest your weight on your folded arms, prepping yourself into a comfortable napping position. “I’ll just borrow your notebook before class and copy it.”

“Is this you finally admitting that I’m smarter than you?” he teases, shaking his head at your prompt laziness.

“If that helps you sleep at night,” you shrug. 

Changmin snickers at your reply, eyes hovering over you for a few seconds as you get comfortable next to him. He takes another sip of the banana milk before he offers the drink to you, the straw hovering over your lips. Like a baby being fed through a sippy cup, you open your mouth and let him slot the straw between your lips, sucking the liquid in and relishing in the sweetness of the beverage. 

You shoot him a smile when the carton is back in its place on the desk, his eyes promptly moving to the monitor in front of him. You don’t really know what he’s working on in the first place, the hoard of assignments mixing up in your brain, but you refuse to let your mind wander over equations or foreign languages now. It’s Monday afternoon, and even though it’s only the first day of the week, you feel like you deserve to rest.

Changmin types something on the keyboard of the library computer, eyebrows furrowing as he focuses on the contents of the screen. You find yourself glued to his motions, watching him from the side, studying the way his expressions change in milliseconds, irises dialing by the second. When he focuses a little too hard on the information his eyes are scanning on the device, he traps his bottom lip in between his teeth, tugging on it. He also has a habit of licking his lips every few seconds, leaving a wet trail glossing over his mouth, making you feel foolish at the examination of that part of his face. Hair is falling into his forehead, black locks messily trimmed and mostly unstyled, oftentimes leaving you eager to brush your hand through the raven strands to tame them into place. 

His features have grown familiar to you over the months. He has the face of someone you’ll remember even in a few years. He looks like someone you’d take pictures of in photo booths and tape the strips up in your room. You don’t have any pictures like this, though, and your room isn’t worthy enough of being made prettier with such a photo strip. Maybe in the future, you think. When I live somewhere else.

His voice wakes you up from the slumber, your heart hammering at the interruption. Changmin speaks to you casually, the monotone hum of his voice making you listen attentively to what he has to say.

“Where do we eventually want to settle?” he asks, making you raise your brows at him in question.

“What part of the homework is that?” you joke, watching as the boy’s cheeks tint pink, a dismissive wave of his hand shutting up your teasing.

“I’m already done with that,” he clears his throat, “I’m just… doing research.”

“Research,” you repeat, nodding to yourself. You nuzzle your nose into your hoodie sleeve, thinking for a while as you contemplate your decision. You never really thought of where you’d go. ‘Away’ was always your destination– never specified. You just knew you’d have to leave one day, eventually.

“Busan, maybe?” you hum, laughing to yourself. “I dunno. I always wanted to go to Japan, but I don’t think our funds will reach as far.”

“I don’t really think the language barrier would be ideal either,” he agrees, nodding to himself. “Busan sounds nice.”

“Doesn’t it?” you grin, locking your gaze with his only for a few seconds before he looks back to the computer. 

“We could get a little flat somewhere in the middle of the city when we save up enough, eventually,” he says, tone of voice sweet and gentle. There’s something about planning your future with Changmin that leaves you feeling particularly vulnerable and fragile. Not in a bad way, just in a strange type of way. In a way that makes your insides ache and heart tremble. You never thought you’d plan your future with someone. 

Ji Changmin never planned his future either. Somehow, he assumed there was nothing good waiting for him after aging out of the system. 

The intimacy folded over you two like a blanket makes you panic. “We’re moving in together?” you tease, watching as the boy’s face heats up more, a hesitant shrug of his shoulders acted out to seem casual.

“I think it’s more convenient that way,” he hums, trying to stay logical. “We can split the rent and groceries, and one of us can cook while the other one cleans…” he trails off, scratching the back of his neck. “We are leaving together, so I assumed…”

A dumb smile battles its way onto your lips. “I was just joking,” you assure him, watching as he shies away from your gaze. It’s not an usual reaction from him. Ji Changmin doesn’t really get bashful– at least not with you. You try not to question it for the sake of your own comfort.

Forcing your eyes off his face, you watch as he types something on the keyboard again, attention glued to his digits. Dark bruises paint his knuckles, scratches glazing the backs of his fists. Eyebrows furrowing, you act on instinct as you reach out your hand, stopping him from typing as you take his palm into yours. “Did you get into a fight again?” you ask, thumb absent-mindledly tracing the outlines of the scars.

“Maybe,” he admits light-heartedly, lips pressed into a thin line when your warm hand locks with his, the tender touch of the pads of your thumbs against the open wounds making him shiver. If asked, the boy would blame it on the breeze coming through the window. It’s getting late and the air is colder. That has to be it.

“No getting in fights after this is all over,” you say as you let go. “Wouldn’t want our landlord to kick us out for delinquency.”

Changmin laughs, the absurdity of the situation and your foolish dreams downing on both of you at once. Unaware that even though you were both forced to grow up much faster than other kids your age, you were still childish at heart– as if chasing the time of your life that was forcefully taken out of your hands– older, but still needing to live through that stage, you fold back over the table and force your eyes closed, scoffing at the sentiments.

“Don’t you worry, Y/N,” he laughs, “we’re starting clean. Hell, I’ll even give back to society. We can start volunteering, if it makes you sleep better at night.”

The joke makes you chuckle, warming your heart. It’s nice to think about the future with someone. It’s good to feel like your dreams might be tangible. The future is in your hands, and you will do everything you can to make it worth it. 

It’s good to have someone you can lean on.

“Can I help you with that?” Aerin asks you from behind, startling you in the small kitchen space. Turning towards her, you offer her a smile and shake your head, watching as your little sister takes her stance next to your figure, observing your cooking.

When it comes to cooking, you wouldn’t call yourself a professional. A lot of the times, what you end up with isn’t as delicious as you expected it to turn out when you started making it, but at the end of the day, it’s food anyway and you eat it– because throwing it out would be a waste of money and resources, and you have to eat something. There are a few foods that are easy enough that you perfected them, though– and those are ramen, an egg omelet, fried rice, and lastly, the pre-made foods you get at the grocery store that you either just boil or heat up in the microwave. 

“No, it’s okay,” you say as you work on one of your master dishes– the one that satisfies everyone, including your little sister: ramen. You can never go wrong with ramen, you think. 

“But I wanna learn to cook as well,” your sister insists, crossing her arms on her chest, “I’m not a child anymore, and I have to learn how to look after myself.”

A dry chuckle escapes your throat, shaking your head in disbelief at her mature words. In your eyes, she’s just a child, though– a kid that’s not to be trusted with knives and boiling water, a little girl that isn’t as careful with the utensils as she should be, which can undoubtedly end up with her getting hurt. 

“That’s what I’m here for,” you smile, throwing your little sister a caring look. “You just focus on studying and I’ll be there to cook for you so your little stomach is never empty,” you say as you slice the spring onion to add into the noodles boiling on the stove.

Aerin seems to be disappointed with your answer. Her cheeks grow twice as big as they usually are as she pouts, a frown overtaking her features. You take it as your sign to engage your little sister more in the grown-up activities, sighing to yourself as you realize just how fast your little sister has grown. Even though you try to shield her from all the troubles of the adult world, you can’t really prevent her from maturing faster than the other kids her age. Hell, she’s not blind– as much as you’d like her to be. She knows what’s going on. She might not be able to grasp it fully, might not be able to understand everything with her childish brain, but she knows– to a certain level, that is. 

Nodding to yourself, you try to put up a smiling face. “Okay, then,” you say, “I’m making ramen.”

Your sister seems to be intrigued with your sudden tutorial, eyes growing big and focused. Something grows impossibly soft and fond in you, watching her scanning the surroundings, trying to find any task to help you out with. 

“You can just open the pack and put the noodles in the water to boil, if you want to do it the easy way,” you start, “but if you want to make it more delicious, like I do, you can add some other ingredients in with it.”

“What do you add?” Aerin asks.

“Spring onion,” you hum, pointing to the vegetables you’d been cutting when she approached you, “soy sauce,” you point towards the black bottle on the counter, waiting to be opened and added into the dish cooking on the stove, “and lastly, I crack in an egg.”

“That doesn’t seem hard,” Aerin says, earning herself an amused chuckle out of you.

“It’s not,” you admit, “I’m not a professional chef, or anything, so I keep it simple.”

“Can I do it, then?” she asks, looking at you with big, hopeful eyes. You can’t possibly turn those eyes down. A passing thought emerges in you that she needs this– she needs someone to teach her even the smallest things. She needs you to teach her how to cook ramen, because you know how hard it is when you have no one to show you, when you have to figure out everything on your own. 

Nodding, you step aside and put the black bottle of soy sauce into her hand. “You can pour in a little bit. Not too much, though, or else it will be too salty.”

“How much?” she asks, furrowing her brows.

“I’ll tell you when to stop,” you smile, watching as her smaller hand opens the lid of the bottle, positioning the glass above the pot. Black liquid soon drips down, tinting the broth a dark brown color, the spices mixing in and making the ramen instantly twice as delicious as if you’d just thrown it on the stove with the spices that come in the packaging. 

“That’s fine,” you say, halting your sister in adding more and over-seasoning your lunch.

“Now the egg?”

“Yeah,” you nod, watched by the focused eyes of your little sister. You take the small sphere you’ve prepared onto the kitchen counter before you started cooking, offering it to Aerin. “Have you ever cracked an egg before?” you ask.

“No.”

“Okay,” you laugh, “so this is your first time. Don’t worry, nobody gets it right the first time. Just crack it on the counter and then open the shell. Be careful not to spill it everywhere, though,” you instruct, watching as your little sister moves with much uncertainty, small hands shaking with the delicate ingredient in her grasp.

The touch of the shell with the counter is almost delicate the first time, as if she was afraid the egg was going to spill everywhere and make a mess on the kitchen counter, but the second time, she’s a little more confident, cracking the egg on the corner. Pure concentration is shown on your sister’s face as she moves the ingredient above the pot, her little fingers having trouble with opening the shell and dropping the egg in. She struggles, nails digging into the light tan, putting in more force than necessary and breaking the shell even further, having the yolk spill all over her fingers, dropping to the pan with a crash.

Aerin gasps in surprise at her own actions, a frown instantly overtaking her features as she notices that the shell fell in, disappointment so evidently running through her veins.

“It’s okay,” you say, petting her arm, “as I said, nobody gets it right the first time. Throw the shell into the bin and wash your hands, I’ll finish this,” you smile, trying to transfer all your feelings of pride into her.

She is growing up right in front of your eyes. It’s a feeling only older siblings can understand– seeing someone transform from a baby to an elementary-school kid, being there for every step of their journey. You’ve known her her whole life. It’s a bond that you never want to break.

But there’s that bugging voice in your mind that keeps telling you to enjoy this, enjoy it while it lasts, enjoy it while you can, because soon, you’ll be gone and you won’t see her take the next steps, you won’t see her grow up. A chill runs down your spine at that, an unsettling feeling making you feel heavy, making you trap your bottom lip between your teeth and gnaw on it in a poor attempt to ground yourself.

Crouching over the boiling pot, you take out a spoon and fish for the cracked shell in the noodles, not really being in favor of getting an upset appendix. Your eyes get hazy, stinging at the corners– maybe you could blame it on the steam.

“You did well, Aerin. You’ll be a better cook than me in no time,” you praise her.

“I have to learn,” she agrees, the sound of the tap turning on as she washes her hands flowing into your ears with her next sentiment. “You won’t be here forever to do everything for me, after all.”

With your back turned to her, pretending to still dig around the noodles for the egg shells you already got out a few seconds ago, you hum. You catch yourself mid-sniffle, quickly wiping your cheek with the back of your hand, turning off the stove– maybe you could blame it on the spring onion. Cutting it always makes you tear up. It’s just the fumes getting in your eyes.

You won’t be there forever to do everything for your little sister. The day that happens is maybe sooner than she’d expect– you can’t tell her, though. You can’t prepare her for your departure.

By bringing this up, though, it’s almost like in the corner of her soul, she knew. It’s almost like she had it all figured out, it’s like she saw right through you. It’s like her own way of telling you not to worry– she’ll be a big girl and take care of herself. She’ll be strong, even when you’re gone.

You won’t be there forever to do everything for your little sister. You really, desperately wish you would, though. 

Carisoprodol, sold under the brand name Soma among others, is indicated for the relief of discomfort associated with acute, painful musculoskeletal conditions in adults. Carisoprodol is a white, crystalline powder, having a mild, characteristic odor and a bitter taste. It is slightly soluble in water; freely soluble in alcohol, chloroform, and acetone; and its solubility is practically independent of pH. SOMA should only be used for short periods (up to two or three weeks) because adequate evidence of effectiveness for more prolonged use has not been established.

“What if it kills him?” you ask, chewing on your bottom lip.

“It won’t,” Changmin says, placing his hand over yours, the package of pills resting in your open palm. “Trust me.”

The recommended dose of SOMA is 250 mg to 350 mg three times a day and at bedtime. The recommended maximum duration of SOMA use is up to two or three weeks.

“Where did you even get this?” your eyebrows furrow as you listen to him instruct you on the ways of using it. Your stomach is already burning with acid at the thought of what you’re going to do. It’s what you’re dreading, but it’s also what needs to be done. 

“Our caretaker back at the foster home takes them,” he says, shrugging. “So I just borrowed some.”

SOMA has sedative properties and may impair the mental and/or physical abilities required for the performance of potentially hazardous tasks such as driving a motor vehicle or operating machinery. There have been post-marketing reports of motor vehicle accidents associated with the use of SOMA. In some patients, however, and/or early in therapy, carisoprodol can have the full spectrum of sedative side effects and can impair the patient's ability to operate a firearm, motor vehicles, and other machinery of various types, especially when taken with medications containing alcohol, in which case an alternative medication would be considered. The intensity of the side effects of carisoprodol tends to lessen as therapy continues, as is the case with many other drugs. Other side effects include: dizziness, clumsiness, headache, fast heart rate, upset stomach, vomiting and skin rash.

“Just give him two of these. He should be out within an hour.” 

A chill runs down your spine. This is nothing close to the occasional stealing at the grocery store or the lying you used to do to get money out of old men that are predatory towards a girl knowing she’s underage. This is twice as morally wrong and twice as dangerous for everyone involved. If you had to draw a line at what you can excuse yourself, you think all of this is far over it.

“If this goes wrong, I’m ratting you out and we’re both going to jail. You hear me?” you say, eyes bearing into Changmin’s.

“That’s the plan, baby,” he grins. “If you go down, I go as well.”

The usual dose of 350 mg is unlikely to engender prominent side effects other than somnolence, and mild to significant euphoria or dysphoria, but the euphoria is generally short-lived due to the fast metabolism of carisoprodol into meprobamate and other metabolites.

You watch the boy from up close, his eyes now blown out and big, blonde hair falling into his forehead in a messy manner– yet he doesn’t find it in him to drag his palm across the strands and push them out of his vision. You’re laying in the bed with him, side by side, staring into each other’s eyes. You watch as the drug slowly takes over him, as the boy in front of you slowly starts slipping into a more and more sleepy state, completely unaware of the fact that you dropped two white, round pills into his drink when he went to the toilet. 

Your conscience starts stinging more and more with the passing time. Eric Sohn looks at you like you hung the stars onto the sky, like you made the whole world with just your two hands– and this is what you’re repaying him with. This is what you decided to do, this is what path you chose to take.

Millions of excuses flash through your alert brain. Maybe it’s just your mind trying to rationalize everything, trying to make you feel better about the mess you’re just now going to create– either way, it’s helping only a little bit with the rapid beating of your heart. 

You keep telling yourself that it doesn’t matter. That Eric would never understand the life you’re living, that he wouldn’t even want to date you, had he known just how much money your family owes. You keep telling yourself that it’s okay, because he has a lot of money, and it’s not like you’re stealing it all– you’re just stealing the valuables he showed you. And maybe it’s his fault for trusting you. After all, he was the one willingly taking you back to his house when his parents weren’t around. This is his lesson– he should start being less gullible and vulnerable. He should stop hanging out with people like you.

You and him, you don’t belong together. Eric Sohn is supposed to stand by the side of another rich heir, showing her off to his parents. He’s supposed to be proudly going around the town with his newest girlfriend, not hiding with her in the shadows, knowing, sensing that she’s flawed and not like him– not like others.

He’s going to wake up and find out who you are– the reality, not just what you’ve been pretending to be all this time– and he’s going to be disappointed, sure, but he’s going to move on to better things. Because what you’re taking from him is just a fraction of his wealth, just a small part of what he has. He won’t even feel the loss. 

But for you, you’re taking everything you can– everything you need.

It’s not like any of this– your relationship– was ever real. You two haven’t even kissed yet. You hang out with him and hold his hand, you listen to him while he talks to you with sparkles in his eyes, but there’s no depth. Surely, he must feel it. Surely, he must know there’s something wrong.

“I love you, Y/N,” he suddenly says, tone of voice hushed, almost not audible in the silence of his room. The sentence is like a knife to your heart, a dagger stabbing you in your back. Something inside of you crumbles, your stomach burning with guilt, hands shaking as you pretend you didn’t hear him. If you ignore it, maybe it’s like it never happened. 

It’s the effect of the drug. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. It’s not real– how could it be? He doesn't know you. He doesn’t know who you really are and what you’re about to do. He can’t love you.

Fingers playing with the loose threads of the blanket thrown over the two of you, your eyes avert from his, big and honest, still like water. It takes everything in you not to stay here with him, wait until he’s back from the sedation, and apologize. It takes everything in you not to back out. Every time the weight of your actions becomes too unbearable, the weight of responsibility and your family’s well-being drops onto the other side of the scale, though, and you’re back to square one– this is what you need to do.

“You don’t have to say it back,” he says to you despite not meeting your eye, “you… I know…” he trails off, but doesn’t finish the sentence, as if changing his mind. A dry chuckle leaves his throat at that, words sweet like honey lacing your throat, choking you up with the thickness of them, the richness of his unreturned care. “I just wanted you to know.”

You’re a terrible, terrible human being. The force of your teeth against the side of your cheek suddenly gives out, making you taste iron on your tongue. Promptly ignoring everything he says, focusing on calming down your breathing and the erratic beating of your heart, you wonder if he knows. If he’s aware you’re just playing with him– if he knows you never cared for him in a way he does for you. 

Because if he knows, it’s like he’s allowing you to break him. Isn’t that what love is, though? Being vulnerable, offering someone your whole heart, and expecting them to take care of it? Love is cruel in that way. It can take away all of you. It can consume you.

And would he still love you if he knew what you were going to do to him? Is his love unconditional? You chuckle at that. He doesn’t know anything about love. 

A while passes, the two of you laying in silence. When you finally battle away the fear and look up at him, you find him asleep. His eyes are closed and his breathing is steady, and when you touch his arm– testing to see if he will wake– you find him unresponsive. This is your cue.

Standing up from his bed and straightening the wrinkles on your clothes, you take a deep breath in and out to calm yourself down. Your hands grasp the backpack you brought with yourself– the bag that was supposed to be filled with clothes so you could sleep over, yet that is now empty, just waiting to be filled– and you walk out of Eric’s room, feet dragging you towards all the empty rooms in the corridor.

The first part of the plan is now in action.

Walking into the master bedroom, dashing to the walk-in closet, you take all the jewelry you can find. The mental calculations of the worth of the chains and golden earrings in your bag are adding up slowly, the digits growing and making a sense of satisfaction flow through your veins. Maybe something rubbed off on you from hanging out around Changmin so much– you get the thrill now. You get the adrenaline. It’s like working for something you want, something you need, and although you know there are other ways, they’re not as fast and effective. The thing is, you need the money now. 

Fastly getting through room by room, taking everything valuable you can see with the idea of turning it into profit in a pawn shop somewhere along the way, when everything is settled and you’re on the run, starting your life somewhere new, you find that it gets easier to operate. It’s like you’re working on auto-pilot, the full weight of your actions slowly slipping through your consciousness. You’re only an actor in your life right now, looking at yourself from a third person view– like you’re playing a video game. 

Detached from everything, hands now more steady and breathing almost normal, you take the jewelry from the living room as well. A dry chuckle leaves your throat as you eye Eric’s wallet thrown lazily on the shelf by the front door. You never leave your money out in the open and unhidden at home– don’t you know that? Haven’t you learned about the dangers of that yet, Eric Sohn? Oh, what a blissfully unaware life you lead.

Opening it, taking the bank notes into your fingers and folding them into your pocket, you stop as you put your shoes back on at the front door. Looking around the big, empty space, not really allowing yourself to dwell on your actions just yet, you take your phone out of your pocket and before you completely turn the device off, block Eric’s number. 

The doorknob is cold in your hands as you open the front door, walking out. It’s like you’re leaving who you once were and who you could’ve been in that big house behind you– it’s like you’re saying goodbye to the life you once led and anxiously awaiting the new one waiting for you behind the corner. 

Getting sentimental won’t help you in this situation, though. Being emotional and afraid won’t drag your family out of the depths of loan sharks’ teeth. 

And so you walk off the property, mind set on the meeting point you agreed on with Changmin. It’s now or never.

The first part of the plan has been completed. You have something to fall back on when you discard all the money into the loan shark’s hands. Eric Sohn’s wealth is now your safety net. 

You meet up with your partner in crime at the corner of the neighborhood. Your backpack gets hidden in the bushes, away from the eyes of everyone, on the route you’re going to take when completing your second part of the plan. The next couple of steps are completed on autopilot. 

Flashes of Changmin’s face. A ski mask pulled over his head, a hood pulled over your hair, disposable mask covering your nose. He throws one of his spare black hoodies over your body, leaving you to put your arms through the sleeves and zip the clothing up, the two of you masked to the point of not being recognised even to the eyes of people that know you. 

You two make a silent entry to the empty road leading towards the town square. Not much conversation is shared between the two of you because of the adrenaline running through your veins. The stride in your step is consistent and fast-paced, the timing of your plan set to a tight schedule. When you cross the corner, nearing your target, the two of you put on sunglasses and keep your head low. Your heartbeat is so fast you can hear it in your ears, your body responding to the stress with the help of your sympathetic nervous system– breathing growing fast and hands a little sweaty.

Your mind is repeating ‘It’s gonna be okay, It’s gonna be okay, It’s gonna be okay’, a silent plea that constantly gets overthrown by the rational side of your brain. Is it too late to back out now? You don’t know– but at the same time, you recognise that you don’t particularly want to. You’re just scared– you know it. You recognise it. 

And it’s okay to do things afraid. It means you have the courage to do them– it means you have what it takes to change the situation you’re in.

Your eyes lock with Changmin’s, his face mostly hidden in a shadow. You can’t really read his expression– it’s dark and his features are covered– but it seems like you two operate on the same frequencies. One nod is all it takes– the world stops for a second before Changmin turns on his heel and moves towards the jewelry store you once worked at, a heavy rock he prepared close to the sidewalk thrown through the door giving you an easy entry to the property.

The alarm goes off instantly. That means you only have about 10 to 15 minutes before the police come and you’re busted.

You have to act quick. Changmin climbs into the store like he owns the place. You have the background information from working there that could very well get you caught quickly, if the police are smart enough to connect the dots in the investigation. The plan you and Changmin have is efficient, fast and smart. You thought about everything– you can’t make a single mistake. The way you move and operate is calculated and thought-out. There’s no way you’re giving yourself to the hands of the police tonight.

While you run to the back and rummage through the manager’s room, looking for the key to the cash register– you know where it’s usually kept, since you closed with her many times before and watched her do all the tasks with innocent eyes, not yet knowing that you’re going to end up using this information for your good one day. When you find it– on the top of the shelf, almost invisible if you hadn’t known that’s where to look for it– you move to the safe in the corner of the room. The sequence of numbers is easy to remember– or at least for you. Your father used to tell you that you’re good with numbers. You’ve grown to hate every quality of yours he ever complimented, but you must admit it’s coming in clutch right now.

Your fingers work on the lock, the junctures of the metal unclasping under your touch. Your hands are still sweaty, but a little more steady now– you notice as you open the door to the safe and take out the rest of the money binded with rubber bands, throwing it into your backpack. You work fast, not really giving yourself an opportunity to mentally count and estimate the amount, but something in your bones is telling you that it should be enough.

Running back to the main store area after you’re done, not bothering to close the safe after yourself, you reach the register to get the last remains of cash from this store. The alarm is still going off, making your ears ring and your stomach churn with acid, but as you get the key in and forcefully take out the drawer, you feel a little calmer at the sight of the bills inside. 

From the corner of your eye, you watch Changmin getting out jewelry from each shiny glass vitrine, smashing it with his gloved fist. Countless earrings, watches and necklaces get thrown messily into his bag, expensive metal rising your worth with every passing second. 

When the cash is in your bag, you quickly pace around the store and try to help Changmin. As soon as your hand goes to smash the window, though, he takes you by the wrist and shields you from your attempts. Furrowing your brows, you meet eyes with him, wordlessly asking for an explanation. Does he not want your help? Does he want you to fully stick to the plan? But you’re done with your part– the best thing you can do at this moment is help him with his side, no?

Your question is quickly answered when the man keeps tugging on your hand, leading you out of the store. Your feet buckle the tiniest bit when you cross the threshold, but that’s when you hear it– the sirens.

You didn’t notice them over the sound of the alarm and the whooshing of your blood in your ears. You have to leave– they’re close.

Changmin takes the lead, his sneakers making a loud noise against the pavement. You run after him, your pulse quickening with each meter. They could be anywhere, you think. They could stop you right here, on the run. You have to be careful.

The paranoia gets the worst of you, making you constantly check over your shoulder. Pupils shaking, you scan your surroundings– there could be anyone watching you that could tell the police that they saw you on the run. There must be cameras everywhere. You can’t hide. They’re always watching. You’re going to get caught, and you’re going to be sent to juvie. You can’t help your family–

“Y/N,” you hear him call from in front of you, the anxious thoughts vanishing from your brain fast, like the strike of a lightning. 

His sunglasses are off, your eyes meeting. Something inside of you comes to a calm, your heart leaping, squeezing on itself. His hand grabs yours, a force dragging you to his level on the pavement. He’s not letting you fall behind, his legs giving the pace as you follow him, left, right, left, right… You’re almost there. You’re almost done.

It gets to the point of the route where Changmin bends down and searches through the bush. Your backpack is quickly found, thrown over his shoulder. He’s carrying both now, one on his back and one on his front, leaving you leaping behind him with a smaller duffel bag on your shoulder. You carry a lot of money with yourself right now. You don’t think you’ve ever seen so much money in one place in your whole entire life.

And then you’re finally there– the police sirens are no longer audible, there are houses all around you and the only thing accompanying the silence are the lampposts and your heavy breathing. Bending over at his waist, Changmin finally lets go of your hand. His fingers grasp the ski mask on his head, tugging it off and letting him finally breathe in the oxygen freely, not restricted by the thick fabric.

Your heart starts to calm down as you take more air into your lungs. Wiping your sweaty hands onto the fabric of your jeans, you unzip the hoodie and fan yourself with your shirt, hating the way it’s sticking to your sweaty skin. 

It’s calm. Quiet. Just like any other day. Tonight, it feels a bit strange.

Changmin looks up at you, hair messy sticking up everywhere, his sweaty forehead glistening a little in the moonlight. A heartbeat passes by of you two just staring into each other’s eyes before his lips turn into a lazy grin, the dimple on his cheek showing itself to you in its full glory. It’s a strange situation to smile in, but it still makes your heart leap and thunder, a similar expression taking over your face. Then, he laughs. Like it’s funny. Now, this is getting ridiculous.

Still, you can’t help but mirror him. He must be crazy. Surely, you’re both going insane. 

Shaking his head, he straightens his back and takes a step forward to where you’re standing, offering his hand to you for a high-five. When you meet him in the middle, he locks his fingers with you, squeezing your palm with his. “Almost there.”

“Almost there,” you repeat, nodding. 

Now, all it takes is to settle the loans and leave. Leave fast, that is.

You take both of the bags into your hands and slowly, quietly enter your house. Changmin doesn’t follow you– he’s on to the second to last part of your plan as you walk up the stairs to your room and lock the door behind you. Unzipping the bags and dropping the money onto the rug in the middle of the floor, your breathing heavy as you prepare to count, you crouch and let your eyes wander for a bit along the notes in the middle of your room. 

You’re rich. Only for a moment, though. You try to salvage the feeling the best you can– the satisfaction doesn’t hit your brain, though. You can’t fake it. You can’t make yourself believe a lie.

Pulling yourself together, your fingers slip across the smooth surface of each bill, your brain working fast as you rustle with the cotton. The amount gets added up, the sum growing bigger and bigger, and after each ten thousand, you put a rubber band on the roll and drop it back into one of the bags. 

You’re using your school bag to carry the money to settle your family’s debt. There’s something deeply ironic about the sentiment. It almost makes you chuckle.

The light pink backpack gets filled with expensive pieces of paper, each roll lifting the tiniest bit of weight off your shoulders. Only a few more and you have enough, you think– and although you hate to admit it, the remaining sum you see scattered across your floor is less than the amount you expected. It’s okay, though– you know how to live with nothing. You’ll survive. You’ll get through it. 

After you’re done counting, you zip up the bag. Shaky hands reach for the last notes on the floor. You take out the envelope you hid under your pillow and put the money inside before you hesitantly drag out the piece of paper you’ve treasured inside, letting your eyes scan over the last words you’re leaving for your sister.

My sweet Aerin. 

Don’t look for me. Don’t worry about me. You’re safe now and everything is going to be okay. Take care of mum while I’m gone and make sure to study well so you get into a good university and make your big sister very proud. There are some things you are too young to understand, but I’m sure you’ll get it when you’re older. 

Please don’t hate me. I’m always thinking about you. We will meet again one day.

Love, Y/N. :) 

P.S.: keep this money safe. Only use it when you really need it. 

The corners of your eyes burn, making you blink away the tears. Although your heart wishes for one last hug, one last goodbye, you know you can’t grant yourself the benefit. If you held your sister for a second, you know you’d want to hold her forever– and that’s something you can’t do anymore. Not after what’s done. You can’t look back and keep holding on to something so selfishly– there’s no going back after what you’ve done. You’re a criminal now– a proper one, but you did it all for your family. You hope that one day, at least your sister might understand.

Wiping the stray tear that’s rolled down your cheek, you breathe in to calm your erratic thoughts. Putting the letter back in and sealing the envelope, all while simultaneously gathering all the bags, you walk into your sister’s room and leave the envelope under her pillow. 

Her sleeping body is still shorter than yours, but she’s no longer so little. She’s grown so much over the years. The thought of not seeing her grow into an adult pains you, but it’s the price you have to pay for her comfort. 

You close the door to her room quietly. You walk down the stairs of a house you can no longer call a home, foot stepping over the threshold of a place you’re never coming back to. You don’t allow yourself to look behind you. You don’t allow yourself to say a proper goodbye.

The jog towards the car parked in your driveway feels like a marathon– you’re slowly running out of breath. You didn’t train hard enough for the responsibilities you’ve taken on your shoulders. It’s like you’re jogging with a bag of rocks on your back.

Changmin opens the door to the passenger’s side for you. The bags are dropped onto the backseat. When he asks you if you’re ready, you don’t look into his eyes when you nod. There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach telling you that he’ll see right through your lie– but you can’t waste any more time than you already allowed yourself back in the house.

Changmin twists the car key in the ignition and starts the car. You drive away towards the other side of the city. Your baby pink school bag is dropped at the gate of the expensive-looking house of which you found the address of on one of the contracts somewhere in the middle of planning your escape. You drive away before anyone notices. Somehow, it feels like by leaving the bag there, you’re losing your youth with it. You can never take that backpack back to school with you. 

But then again, you’re never going back to school. Somehow, you know you lost your youth before you had a physical reminder. Your shoulders hang heavy even without the weight.

The drive is silent. You try to distract yourself by watching the stars.

When you were little, you promised your sister that you would be by her side forever. She was only 6 when she came home from school crying, telling you that her friends all went out alone without her and talked badly about her behind her back. It took everything in you to not go out of your way to hunt down those little heathens and give them a piece of your mind back then, but you remember it as if it was yesterday, telling your sister that ‘It’s okay, because you will always have me,’ as her big eyes glistened with tears, ‘remember, I’m your best friend forever, okay?’.

You don’t really know if she remembers that day. It was ages ago and she made new friends just two weeks after this whole fiasco, forgetting all about it. It stuck in your brain like a sticker, though, the one that you try to peel off but the residue stays behind, tearing at all edges, getting beaten up and looking rather pathetic– just like your words resonating in your brain, bouncing off the walls of your mind.

You broke the only promise you ever meant. 

“You did well,” you hear a voice cut through the silence, the buzzing of the engine not really lullying you to sleep anymore, “you did the best you could.”

Eyes darting to your companion on the driver’s side, you hear yourself let out a soft chuckle. Teeth catching the flesh in your mouth, biting on the inside of your cheek to battle with the tears begging to haze your eyes, you try to focus on his side profile, studying the slope of his nose and the hair falling into his eyes instead, burning this image into your memory. You do everything but think about the events of the night. 

Still, you ask. “Do you think she hates me?”

“I don’t think she could ever hate you, Y/N,” he says, voice tender and sincere, trying his hardest to fight the battle with you, to hold you up when you’re falling.

“I think that one day, she will grow up and she will understand. She will get why you did what you did,” he hums, eyes still sternly glued to the road ahead of him, “she will understand that you did it for her.”

Swallowing hard, for you feel like there’s a lump in your throat, you nod and look back outside of the window. This is something you’re going to need more time to get through, but this is a start– this is something. You have someone that understands. You have someone who shares the burden. 

“Thanks,” you whisper. 

The lampposts blur behind the glass with the speed you’re going at, your surroundings unfamiliar and strange to you. You don’t really know where you are or where you’re heading to– you let Changmin handle that side of the planning, since you don't really care where you’re gonna end up– but the hills and forests cornering the right side of the landscape make you feel strangely at peace. You must be far, far away from Seoul right now. Maybe you’re heading north. You don’t really mind. Maybe you don’t really care.

“How did you even get this car, by the way?” you ask, turning your head back to the boy in the driver’s seat.

“Oh, this?” he snickers, shrugging. “I know a guy. We used to be friends when he lived at the foster home. He aged out of the system like three years ago, but he knows a guy who knows a guy, and he just so coincidentally had this old thing laying around, so I figured we could use it for some time,” he says, nodding to himself. 

Shaking your head in disbelief, you wonder just how far connections can take you in the world. It’s not quite as easy as if you were born to a rich businessman, per se, but you’ll take the off-handed nepotism of the underground world, if it makes your life go smoother– just for the time being, at least. 

“Do you even have a license?” you ask.

“No,” he shakes his head. “But nobody has to know that–”

“Changmin!” you exclaim, terror shaking with your body.

“You really thought I was allowed to drive a car when you got into the vehicle, Y/N? Come on, I’m a foster kid. Do you really think anyone paid for my license?” he laughs, eyes darting to your figure momentarily, forming moon crescents when he notices the look on your face. “My friend taught me how to drive, though! He got adopted a few months ago, a super rich family– can’t say I’m not jealous, but that’s a story for another time–” he hums casually, as if it’s not a big deal, “and they bought him a car. Anyways, we stayed in contact and he let me try it at this empty parking lot, you know, where the abandoned factory is? And–”

Watching him speak, arms flying around the air making him look like an animated character– going as far as comically noticing that the car is heading to the left by itself when the wheel is unoccupied, quickly taking ahold of it with both hands and trying to make it stay on the road– it’s like a weight is slowly being lifted off your shoulders. It all seems so ridiculous. Insane. Crazy. 

A laugh battles out of your throat. Changmin’s eyes meet with yours, a big smile spreading across his face. A dimple appears on his cheek, his essence contagious. 

Suddenly, you can do anything in the world. Nobody can stop you. You fought with your future. You changed the trajectory of your life. You helped your mother. You protected your sister.

What’s a few years in hiding? 

A foolish thought passes by your brain. You don’t dwell on it much longer, but it’s a nice thing to reflect on when you’re alone in the hostel room late at night, hyper-aware of Changmin’s presence on the other side of the bed– because it’s more expensive to get a room with two beds and it doesn’t matter anyway. You will push it back into the corners of your mind, ignoring it until this moment happens. But it’s there– creeping around, waiting for you to pay attention to it– and it says that as long as you have Changmin, you’re sure you can get on with anything. You can get used to this.

“Aren’t you hungry? There’s some snacks in the compartment over there,” he says, pointing towards it. Magically, your stomach starts to churn– he must have said it into existence. It stinks a lot of black magic, if you really think about it. You knew you should’ve been more careful around him.

Still, your hand reaches for the compartment, opening it. There’s an opened pack of Lay’s chips, a bottle of soda, a wrapped sandwich, and a small chocolate bar, wrapped in red packaging, smiling at you brightly from the darkness of the car. It’s looking at you with big heart-eyes, your favorite flavor of them all– peanut butter covered with tasty milk chocolate, a heaven on Earth– and then reality hits you like a truck again, your eyes burning with the realization.

Fingers wrapping around the treat, you study the packaging for a while– as if you weren’t familiar with it already, having the chocolate bar on days where you really felt like you deserved it, on days where you really felt like you earned it. 

When you look up, you see Changmin altering his point of view between the road and your face, a bashful smile playing with his features. “Bought it for you this time,” he notes, “as a new start.”

A sniffle. Your hands shake a little, your lungs betray you with the intake of oxygen. 

“No, you’re not gonna cry on me now,” he panics, shaking his head, “no, no, no. Open the chocolate and eat it, you moron, we don’t have time to be sentimental–” he grunts, although his intentions are too clear even without words– the silent support still makes your weak heart squeeze on itself. 

You laugh, unwrapping the chocolate and taking a bite. Somehow, you manage to let out:

“You remembered.”

“Of course,” he hums, “how could I forget, I mean, you had a whole hour-long dilemma about it back at the gas station–”

“Shut up, you’re ruining it,” you grunt, tearing a piece of the chocolate bar and holding it up in front of his lips, “I’ll share it with you this one time just to make you shut up,” you say, shaking your head.

The boy takes a hold of your wrist to steady it, taking the sweetness into his mouth. He stays silent for a bit as he chews on it, but his fingers still stay wrapped around your skin as he moves your hand away from his face, resting it on your thigh. Warmth covers the back of your palm as he rests his own on it, his digits intertwining with yours. When he squeezes your fist in tender reassurance, you feel your heart skip a beat.

Orange hues appear behind your window as you drive off the highway. The land is still sprouse with buildings, but you enjoy watching the sun slowly waltz onto the sky, greeting you into the new day. Watching the side of his face as he focuses on parking in front of a lone diner in the middle of nowhere, you finally get in tune with the fact that Ji Changmin’s everything you have right now– everyone you can lean on and fall back on. 

Maybe it’s been that way for a while now, but it only downs on you when you’re essentially on the same level now, no illusions playing with your mind– nobody’s son and nobody’s daughter.

“Breakfast!” he exclaims as he turns the engine off, seemingly impressed with his parking skills. When you get out of the car and he marches up to you, putting a cap onto your head and tugging it low to cover your face, ‘just in case’, tugging you by your hand into the diner, you can’t help but wonder– if anyone unsuspecting saw you right now, 

would you look like lovers, or partners in crime?

#deoboyznet #the boyz x reader #ji changmin x reader #changmin x reader #the boyz oneshot #the boyz drabbles #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #the boyz fanfic #changmin drabble #changmin oneshot #changmin angst #changmin scenarios #changmin imagines #changmin fic #the boyz fic #the boyz angst

[jeanmoreaue]

I agree!! *an incoherent rant incoming* Jean imo def moved on from Kevin (in a romantic way; i think he’s not moved on from the whole ‘Kevin left me’ thing ofc but I think he obviously knows and accepts that he and Kevin won’t ever happen lol). And that scene with Renee was obviously a closure/farewell and they’ve moved on to being friends now (also imo while i like their dynamic i feel like they’d never work bc of the whole victim saviour complex, that’d be really uncomfortable and hard to overcome). Jeremy seems like he’s able to handle Jean’s crazy baggage without placating him too much or pushing him too hard. He definitely needs to work on his own shit first (i feel like the way he went all in on helping Jean is kind of giving ‘I am avoiding my problems by getting too involved in others’ problems’) but I think Jean will be the perfect person to help him with that! As you said he’s super perceptive and honestly very empathetic even if he doesn’t show it in the most obvious way. Jeremy would probably really appreciate Jean’s brutally honest approach lol. They’re lowkey perfect for each other ☹️ TSC2 can’t come soon enough

hardcore agree on every single point you made!! i feel exactly the same about Jean and Renee, as much as their dynamic is sweet, i think it would be really difficult to overcome Jean feeling indebted to her (whereas Jean and Jeremy are both growing together) + ya i think Jean has very complicated feelings toward Kevin but i don��t think he’s actively yearning over Kevin anymore

and exactlyy i definitely imagine Jean quietly picking up on whatever Jeremy’s going through and expressing concern only for Jeremy to try and pull a “my problems aren’t that bad and therefore don’t matter” which i don’t see Jean accepting. especially since Jean has an ‘older brother who cares more about other people’s well-being more than his own well-being’ vibe (underneath his slightly prickly attitude lol) i think Jeremy and Jean are really good for each other, Kevin subconsciously knew what he was doing by having Jean transfer to USC 🤨

#anon i love you #that was absolutely not incoherent we’re on the same wavelength here #def craving that next book lol #feel like it’s still only the very beginning of jean’s story #would not be surprised if we got two more books to make another trilogy #side note but i’m still so obsessed w the characterization of Jean as being so perceptive and attuned to other people’s feelings #logically i know it’s bc he had to read riko’s mood to appease him and probably also his parents #since even tho he barely will talk about it he’s confirmed that at the very least his mother beat him #and i honestly just can’t imagine his father who literally sold him treated jean any better #but even tho it’s partially due to abuse i still think it says something about jean #bc riko underwent horrible abuse too and was raised by similarly horrible people too #and yet riko turned out the way he did #and jean became perceptive and caring so #… anyways sorry to pop off in the tags lmao #aftg #tsc #the sunshine court #jean moreau #i just love him so #jerejean #ask tag

[bella-rose29]

purely going off vibes, I'd ship you with minho

no explanation

bc i don't have one

I'll take it

ngl I can see that

#I think getting older has really made me appreciate him more #newt is still my first love fr #but I reckon if I was in the maze I'd struggle to pick between them #mutuals #<3 #the maze runner

[forcedhesitation]

it’s completely bananas to me that halsin's sex scene features a moment where he somehow loses control of his druidic powers and wildshapes into a bear, because he’s apparently that horny. like...gale had to be infected with a mindflayer tadpole for him to make mistakes in his spellcasting, even though he already carried a small nuclear bomb of evil, weave-consuming magic in his chest. what THE fuck is halsin’s excuse? like, as funny as it is for an archdruid to be so overcome with lust upon seeing a tdick that he loses his grip on his abilities, it makes absolutely no sense! what do you mean that this guy has enough power to open a portal to the shadowfell, and rescue a little fey boy from it, but he can't control his wildshaping because "bear horny?" HUH?

#bg3 #thoughts about media #the more I think about halsin and SH. the more I grow resentful of their writer in specific. #genuinely. what the hell was this guy thinking. #like how is this scene meant to be sexy? #as a monsterfucker- I GET the appeal of a man fighting his “inner beast” to be with his partner. #but it doesn't come across that way in the halsin scene. it feels...silly? nonsensical? #he's an extremely powerful druid....losing control of his wildshape because he's aroused makes him look...immature. #is the appeal of halsin not that he is an experienced but lonely older man? #when confessing to your player character- he expresses his appreciation for the care with which the PC has treated him. #which I LOVED because it developed upon that initial dialogue of his where he reveals how alone he really is! #his family is all gone...so he only had the grove. #but the people at the grove held him in such high regard...it was like he wasn't a person anymore. just a “leader.” #it makes perfect sense to me that he would fall for someone who treats his feelings as important...who treats him like a person! #but the sex scene devolves so rapidly into...god...something out of a badly written fanfic? #honestly- forget the wildshaping. your PC should have had the opportunity to top halsin. #it would have made MUCH more sense given why he's even attracted to your PC in the first place.

[roturo]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ OH! SO YOU'RE INTO OLDER MEN?

˚₊·➳❥ JJK MEN SHOWING YOU HOW A REAL MEN FUCKS! satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami, toji fushiguro ✧˚ · .

tags: afab!reader, reader is mentioned as a female, use of nicknames (baby, princess, doll, slut, whore), cheating, degradation, caught cheating, getting caught, unprotected sex, blowjob, pussy slapping, mating press, breeding, age-gaps, virginity loss [...] rbs are appreciated!

satoru gojo (Daddy’s girl)

well, that’s the word he used for the little girl you're babysitting right now. he’s a great dad and husband. there’s just this tiny whiny little thing he couldn’t do right– and that’s loving his wife as he should.

like– it’s not that he doesn’t feel guilty, it’s just… well, you looked really cute in that mini dress, he and his wife have been fighting lately anddd– he could tell his daughter liked you more than her fatality of mother she has these days. she even called you mommy by accident once! and that was the last water drop gojo needed for the glass to break.

“Oh- I bet you’d love to be full of me right now.” His thrusts became messier each time he pounded on you, “Mhh, fill you up ‘n make me a daddy again– you’d like that princess?” you couldn’t even talk anymore with how good he’s making you feel– he had your legs pressed on the bed thanks to his arms, almost bending you in half, he was making sure that mating press works.

“Ffffuckk- You feel s’good baby” He felt your walls clenching again, no matter how many times he made you come, he’s making sure you’re coming again after he does. A not ending cycle for him. “Such a slut for me hm? Coming all nice and pretty to this house just to be ruined at night–” his words made you feel dirty, but the euphoria of it was stronger, “such” slap, “a nasty” slap, “slut” slap– “and all f’me” with those last thrusts your body couldn’t take it anymore, spasming and trembling while your poor hole was filled up again. gojo’s wife didn’t even bothered to break your little encounter, she suspected it long time ago.

all that was left was a wide grinning gojo satoru and some divorce papers.

suguru geto (Daddy’s best-friend)

you didn’t intend this to happen… you always knew your dad’s best-friend was hot. he’s geto, ‘cmon. he brings a new girl every weekend whispering in your dad’s ear swearing she’s the one this time.

he saw you grow up, turn into this beautiful and strong woman. so how he couldn’t love you? you were like a doll for him, so beautiful and radiant in every way. a porcelain doll he needed to protect, he couldn’t lose you to any dangerous or stupid man, he swears he would beat the shit out of the guy who breaks your heart first.

“Shhiiiitt– Heh– I can tell how tight your pussy is princess–” His cock was stretching the living shit out of you, touching places never in a thousand years you could imagine you would feel. “what d’ya think daddy would say if he saw his little girl being fucked by his best-friend huh?” your brain was a fuzzy mess, you couldn’t make coherent words to say, and just feel how good geto is making you feel. you couldn’t remember how many times he had made you cum with his toungue and he’s just starting to fuck your pussy.

“ ‘m such a lucky guy if i'm the first you’re giving this pussy to, don’t ya think so doll? marking it as mine, baby I swear you’ll need no man to ever fuck this pussy of yours again– shit I won’t need another woman for myself, you’re the one baby” those words filled your heart of a tingly feeling, making more butterflies roam around your tummy, touching yourself you could sense geto’s cock coming and leaving with every thrust, your brain full of air and in need of more of his cock.

he couldn’t resist himself anymore when he was next to you, his cock would get hard the minute he enters your house, and thankfully he has a pretty doll to release himself with.

kento nanami (Big Boss)

Nanami thinks he’s a good and mature guy– At least for his wife and kids… He has this aura of a serious and mature guy but inside every time he’s just this close to breaking it, just to say what he really thinks or feels.

the first time he saw you at work with your tiny skirts and tight blouses he didn’t mind any type of attention to it, you were another cute worker, that’s all. One of another– he can think other women are pretty too right? maybe even prettier than his wife… and nicer, and cuter, and more homely feeling to be a mom. but he wouldn't do anything he would later regret right?...

“You’re s’pretty baby, such a dirty whore for my cock mhm?” he had you pounding from behind, his desk becoming even messier than it was before, one of his hands keeping you laid down on the desk arching your back like if he’s trying to break it– a sudden ringing brought you back from your unconsciousness of nanami’s cock– he answered the call, not a single sing of him trying to stop thrusting into you.

“Yeah?” his voice was out of breath, almost sounding like a sigh when he answered the call, “Where am I? Huh– I’m at the office r-right now…?” he wasn’t even sure if he could keep this act, losing himself more in the feeling of your pussy clenching on his cock– “Oh yeah- I’m okay, uhh- the kids? yyeah, yeah, they’re with my mom right now–” the feeling of keeping up a call with his wife while fucking you made his cock twitch inside of you, feeling like a teenager kissing their crush for the first time. it was no surprise for him that his wife was cheating, but he wanted to keep it like that for the sanity of his kids. 

“Quit the act Kento– I know you’re fucking somebody else right now. See ya at home.”

toji fushiguro (Step-Daddy)

you hated when your mother started dating new guys. they just kept breaking her heart– but you just stopped telling her that it's okay to live without a partner, that she had you by her side, but well… this new man was something else i guess and you didn’t say anything for the sake of your own good mother.

you didn’t like him, but for the sake of your mother you pretended like you do– and let’s be honest, toji doesn’t like children, so when he first met you he wasn’t as social as others… your mom was just too good to simply let go– but the way you moved, talked, dressed caught his attention, and as time passes and he spends more time with your mom– he's no longer drawn to your house just to see your mother, but to see you. 

“Sshhiit- You’re making me feel s’good baby” the lack of air was making you feel giddy, but the way his cock twitched inside your mouth made your core get even wetter. “C’mon baby, ride my shoe,” you wasted no time before your hips started moving, trying to gain some friction and release that tingly feeling coming from your core. 

“D’ya think your mother would like to see her daughter being full of his step-daddy’s cum?” he gets one of his arms behind himself trying to gain some support while his other free hand caresses your cheeks while you continue sucking– this same hand moves out your head and frees his cock out of your mouth, a small strand of saliva connecting your mouth with it–

“Fuck– guess i choose the wrong out of you two”

#gojo satoru smut #geto suguru smut #nanami kento smut #toji fushiguro smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo smut #geto smut #nanami smut #toji smut #toji fushiguro x reader #gojo satoru #geto suguru #nanami kento #toji fushiguro #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #nanami kento x reader #fushiguro smut

[miya-rin]

imagine being the miya twins older sister who has had suna rintarou fully enamoured with your existence since he first met you at 15 years old.

he has tried to make many moves on you over the years to no avail; sneakily trying to place his arms around your shoulder before one of your brothers notice and throw the nearest object they can grab his way. not letting you carry anything while hes around, claiming how “youll never have to lift a finger again” if you give him a chance. hell, even dropping down to the floor to tie your shoelaces the second he realises the laces have come loose, taking his time to stand back up afterwards as he slowly rakes his eyes over your figure so he can fully take in every inch of you. every attempt of his to make you swoon for him is met with “sorry sweetheart, still not into minors” and a small ruffle of his hair which gives him a dopey smile. you would think he would start to back off eventually but to your dismay every rejection you have handed to him has just made his desire for you grow stronger - he takes your words as “try again when youre 18”

which is exactly what he does. on his 18th birthday his friends decide to throw him a massive party - being the twins chaperone you had to come along and when suna set his eyes on you, you knew there was no chance of you escaping his antics. you catch him glancing at you multiple times throughout the night before he gets pulled away by one of his guests, a disappointed look in his eyes every time he had to look away from you.

after a couple of hours you decide to step outside onto the balcony to catch some fresh air seeing as there was no sign of the party dying down anytime soon. you’re outside for maybe 5 minutes when you hear the door slide open, you already know who its going to be seeing as he has been trying to catch you alone all night, you turn around to finally face the boy and he looks as ecstatic as ever.

“happy birthday suna.” you swear you can see his soul leave his body the second those words leave your mouth, its not the first time youve said it to him tonight - youre not that cruel as to not wish the poor boy a happy birthday on his special day - but everything that comes out of your mouth looks like it sends him to heaven and back.

“thankyou yn, i appreciate you being here, but then again, i know you cant spend more that a week away from me because youre just so obsessed with me.”

“wow, am i that easy to read?” you chuckle along with him, noticing the way his gaze doesnt stray away from your face while you face forward, “so, how does it feel finally being legal?”

“incredible, it means you can finally give me a chance.” he doesnt miss the way you sigh at his words.

“suna we’v-“

“i know that we’ve been over this, but i don’t really think you mean it,” this gains an eye roll from you, “plus, my one wish when i blew out my candles was that you would give me a kiss.”

“really? well i guess your going to have to go without this year.”

“it was my birthday wish, youre not gonna deny me that are you?”

“yknow, if you tell your wish to someone it doesnt come true right?”

“yn…please,” his voice is barely above a whisper, he sounds desperate, “i have been waiting for three years, all i ask for is one kiss, just one.”

“i think youre forgetting that im 22 and you are freshly 18.”

“im still 18 though.”

“hm… you make a good point,” you see the way he perks up slightly at your evaluation, a hopeful look becoming more prominent in his eyes, “one kiss. let it be my official gift for the birthday boy.” you might have well as told him he had just one the lottery, anyone who walked past the sliding door would think you had due to the way his smile was so wide.

“thankyou” is all he can muster up before he is snaking his hand up your body and with a hand tangled up in your hair he leans down until his lips touch yours, you can feel the shit eating grin spread across his face as he gently moves his lips in sync with yours, pulling away slightly to whisper “best birthday ever” before leaning back in <3

#if you see and spelling mistakes no you dont #my suna brainrot is so strong atm #he is all of my thoughts 25/8 #haikyuu #hq x you #haikyuu!! #hq imagines #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu headcanons #hq hcs #lav.posts♡ #suna fluff #suna rintaro haikyuu #suna rintarou fluff #suna rintaro #haikyuu suna #hq suna #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintarō #suna x reader #suna x y/n #suna imagines #suna rintaro x you

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Drunken Promises

luke castellan x reader.

A/N: had a request for sub luke and mommy kink luke so i combined them hehe

WARNINGS: SMUT, mommy kink, subby luke, he whimpers y'all

WORD COUNT: 886 words

Liquor never makes anyone feel better. There’s no drowning sorrows when they only drown you. Luke knows that but he drank anyway. It’s a fun night, a party for the older campers around the fire but when everyone’s left for bed, there’s no more comfort. He sobs. It’s too much for him. Everything is too much, the quests, the fighting, the intrinsic desire for glory. It doesn’t matter if he dies if he goes out in flames.

He hears your footsteps before he sees you as you wander back to the campfire. It gives him time to wipe his eyes, the redness could easily be from his intoxication.

“Forgot my jacket.” You murmur as you grab it. He thinks that you’ll likely leave right away but is irritated when you sit down and stare into the fire. No more private breakdown for him.

“Hmm.” He acknowledges your words before getting up but he stumbles, tripping over nothing and falling at your feet.

“Someone’s had too much to drink.” You tease.

“Shut up.” He grumbles and tries to get up again but you just pull him into the seat next to you.

“Maybe you need a minute before you try to walk again.”

He rolls his eyes and rubs the dirt from his face, wincing when his knuckles run over his scar. The fall perhaps made it tender and it’s still a… fresh mark.

“Are you okay?” The look in your eyes is so kind and almost maternal. It makes him blush.

“Yeah.” He lies.

“You went through a lot, Luke.”

“Everyone here goes through shit.” He brushes off your sentiment.

“Doesn’t make your shit less important.” Your words are still a bit slurred but it’s like you’ve sobered up just to comfort him and you hand him your bottle of water. You put in the effort to take care of him… and it really makes him want to kiss you. He can’t decide if that’s pathetic or not.

“You’re so pretty.” He mumbles out, knowing he would never be able to say it in any other situation.

“You’re so drunk.” You giggle a bit.

“I’m not.” He opens up the water bottle and downs half of it to try and prove himself. “At least not much drunker than you.”

“Bullshit. You’re about to fall off your seat again.” You roll your eyes and stand up, planning to drag him back to his cabin.

He grabs your hand and pulls you into his lap. “I’m not.” You can see it in his eyes. If being sober means he has a chance, then he’ll force the liquor out of his blood with a thought.

“You’re in a very vulnerable state right now, Luke.” You say with a sigh.

“Please.” He begs, putting on the puppy dog eyes. “I just need you.”

“Poor thing. You would need any girl that came across you like this.” You try to get up but he holds your hips.

“No, I just want you, I swear it. There’s no other girl like you.” His needy hands run along your waist, savouring the feel of your skin. He at least seems genuine.

“You want me to take care of you?” You murmur and his pupils blow out with lust.

“So… s’badly.” He leans in as you lean back to tease for a moment until you finally allow him to catch your lips. 

There’s so much passion in the kiss, and desire. You can feel every last ounce of appreciation and desperation in it. He knows he’s never needed anything so much like he needs your touch right now. You can feel it as he bucks his hips into yours. You lose your shorts as he unzips his and when you sink down on him, it feels like he’s found heaven between your thighs. 

You start to bounce slowly in his lap.

“Oh, fuck…” He groans as he holds you so close to him, bucking his hips up pathetically to meet your movements.

“You’re doing so good for me… so good.” You squeeze around him purposefully when he’s fully inside.

“Mmm… mommy.” He whines out and his eyes immediately widen when he realizes what he just said. “I didn’t-I mean-”

“It’s okay, baby. Let mommy take care of you.” You start kissing his neck as you grind against him and he lets out continuous whimpers.

This is one of the first times Luke has let go of control and nothing has ever felt so damn good. With all stress in his life, it’s freeing to be treated in such a way.

“I’m gonna cum. Please let me cum.”

“I think you can do better than that.” You tease.

“Please, please, please. I need to cum so badly. Please, mommy.” He’s desperate and so polite so you allow him.

“Go ahead, baby.”

You squeeze a little more to encourage him and he finishes right inside your pulsing core, letting out more whines that you muffle with your mouth.

“You did so good.” You praise, running your fingers through his curls. He wishes he could stay like this with you forever.

“I did?” His eyes light up, almost every demi-god is a sucker for being told they’re worth something.

“Couldn’t have been closer to perfect.”

And perfect is what he’ll be if it means he gets you.

tglists (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey @aerangi @ravenclawprincess33

Luke Castellan: @amortencjja @urmomsbananabread @kissingyourgrl @vikimontethegirlblogger @maryann2013 @stark-head @remussbitch @ever8ea @batmandabest @jennapancake @junos-web @tanifsblog @stupidtween  @10ava01

#luke castellan smut #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson #pjo x reader #percy jackon and the olympians

[bvidzsoo]

Grease and Oil

⨳Mechanic!Mingi⨳

TW: cursing, smut wrap it before you tap it

Word count: 5,6k

A/N: I don't think I'll ever let go of bleached spikey haired Mingi. It changed something in me, I'll never be the same. I have nothing to say except...why did I even write this? Song Mingi stop haunting me, thank you. It's not the best, but the best I can write lol. Feedback is very much appreciated!

            The smell of grease, oil, and gasoline weren’t something unfamiliar to me, nor were they nauseating. It was something I was used to. These were familiar scents; scents which I have started associating with home. Cars, too, were something I associated with a feeling of familiarity, of something dear to me. Walking inside my father’s car service was like a second home, a place I knew like the back of my hand. I wasn’t huge on fixing cars, but I knew a few things here and there. Despite my father’s attempts at making me a great mechanic one day, I struggled to understand the in-depth parts and mechanism of a car, therefore I settled on appreciating their beauty. Can’t say my father was too happy about it, but his concerns faded away when I found a path for myself. I applied to a college, choosing to study literature as I struggled finding anything else I liked. Perhaps creative writing was a subjected I happened to enjoy too, but I had no idea where my degree would take me one day. I had no intentions of teaching English literature, the children these days were awful and very disrespectful. My short temper would’ve surely gotten the worst of me if placed in a situation where I had to deal with rude kids. And so, I settled on reading my books and pouring my feelings out into short poems when I wasn’t at college. Or by wasting my time away at my father’s car service. It’s not like I had anything better to do—I actually did, but procrastination is my best friend. Besides, most of his employees are above the age of thirty-five, and two of them I have known since I was a little girl, they could be really fun to hang around…and it’s not like I would often stop by because my father has an employee who is barely a few years older than myself. And it’s definitely not because he is the hottest man alive I have ever seen. He’s a tall and lean guy, his posture immaculate with his shoulders always pulled back, his long legs worth envying and shoulders so broad you could hide behind them and nobody would see you. In the summer, he usually wears tight tank tops, showing off his humble muscles, biceps finer than most guy’s of his age. And his pants, which are fireproof, cling onto his body, showing off his narrow waist. This guy was a sight for sore eyes and I couldn’t blame the few ladies who would occasionally stop by, completely taken aback by this guy’s visuals. It wasn’t fair that he had a perfect body, especially when his face was good-looking too. God sometimes had favorites and Song Mingi definitely was one of them with his long nose, sharp eyes and cherry red lips, a singular mole underneath his left eye decorating his flawless skin. His personality also made him desirable and that just made him a dangerously charming and handsome human being. Perhaps my frequent visits to the service during the summer were sort of his merit too, not just the want to spend some quality time with my father as he spent little time at home. I knew he was busy; I couldn’t blame him. His service was one of the best in our little town and money didn’t just magically appear, you had to work hard for it and that’s what he did, he worked his ass off all the time. The fact that he has employed Song Mingi was just the cherry on top, the little motivation I needed to perhaps learn more about cars.

I was settled on top of my father’s working desk, tools pushed to the side, feet dangling as I watched him work on a car’s engine, getting more and more furious by the second as he couldn’t find one missing screw. I watched quietly as his phone rang again, making him sigh loudly before he straightened himself up and took the call, eyebrows furrowed. It was a hot summer day, the AC did little to nothing inside the hot service, and the use of different electrical tools only created more heat inside the spacious room. I had started fanning myself, overhearing my father make an appointment as an obnoxiously loud engine whirled past the entrance to the service, making my heart skip an excited beat. It was lunch break, and Mingi had just returned from eating his meal. He was gone by the time I had arrived; I was rather lazy this morning and thus didn’t bother getting out of bed before 12 pm. My father turned towards me as he finished his call, looking rather irritated. It wasn’t directed at me; however, I still knew a lecturing would follow because I sat on his tool desk…again.

“Get off, Y/N, I asked you so many times not to sit there,” He sighed tiredly as he headed for the exit, “I have to examine a car, are you coming to the front?”

Certainly not before I have seen Mingi, “I’ll wash my hands first, they feel slimy, meet you at the reception, dad.”

He nodded once and hurried outside, phone already ringing once again. Summer seasons were always busy, work pilling up quickly. I started fanning myself with my hands as another heatwave hit me, making me sigh. Not even a tank top and shorts were enough to stop me from sweating buckets. I pushed my hair behind my shoulders and gripped the table, about to jump off it, when the man I stayed behind for finally showed up. He walked through the open garage door, having to duck as it wasn’t raised enough for his towering height. He had his back to me as he walked inside, carrying two boxes, muscles of his arms bulging as a few guys greeted him, instructing him where to place the boxes. However, nothing could’ve prepared me for the wave of shook which rooted me to my spot. My mouth hung open as my eyes remained trained on Mingi, and I could only hope nobody noticed my shameless gaping. Three days ago, when I have stopped by last, the man’s hair reached his shoulders almost and was a faded light brown. Now, his hair was completely bleached blonde and stood up in all places, spikey. A hairstyle definitely shouldn’t have made my tummy do flips, yet I had nothing to swallow as I watched Mingi laugh with a fellow mechanic, explaining something to him animatedly. His black tank top was tucked inside his beige pants, a black belt holding it against his hips securely. A black bandana was tied to his left bicep and I licked my lips as my eyes ran over his frame, stopping for a second too long on his ass. Perhaps crawling onto the wall sounded like the most normal thing to do right now. Just as I was about to look away, the man he was talking to briefly glanced at me and Mingi suddenly turned his head, eyes falling on me. Looking away right now would mean admitting that I had been staring at him, so I forced myself to smile nonchalantly at him and blame the flush on my cheeks on the extremely hot weather—which combined with Mingi’s presence only made my body heat up even more. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but I’d do anything to get railed by Mingi while he wore his working clothes with grease smeared on his cheek. My heart skipped a beat as a lazy smirk appeared on his lips as he took off towards me, making me gulp in panic as I straightened my posture.

“Hello, princess.” He called once he was close enough and I rolled my eyes at the nickname, acting as if I totally hated it. It did bother me at the beginning when he started calling me that, but I didn’t mind anymore. And it certainly shouldn’t have made me blush.

“Hi, Mingi.” I greeted him back, smiling as I crossed my legs and leaned forward, holding myself up by my hands. My knuckles hurt from the grip I had on the table, but I ignored that.

“What brings you here today?” He asked nonchalantly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. I didn’t want to look, but his biceps were bulging and I’m just a simple woman, “Thought you washed your car when you stopped by last time.”

Ah, yes, the good old excuse of washing my car when it didn’t need washing yet. To be fair, I had a cleaning problem so that was the main reason why I washed my car so often, Mingi being here was just another thing to motivate me to stop by more frequently.

“I did, I’m not here for that.” I admitted, clearing my throat as Mingi’s sharp eyes narrowed slightly, mischievous glint appearing in his eyes. He hummed shortly, the sound deep in his throat, reminding me how hot I found his raspy and deep voice. He had once whispered in my ear as he snuck up on me, wanting to scare me, and I swear to God, I almost reached Heaven that day.

“Are you here for me then?” The cute pout of his lips and the finger he pushed against his cheek definitely didn’t match the sultriness of his words and the look in his eyes. It made me take a deep breath as I forced myself to roll my eyes, embarrassed that he had a feeling I was only here to see him. I mean…I did wear my favorite off-shoulder top just because I knew we would see each other.

“Why the sudden change of hairstyle?” I decided to change the subject, but it only made Mingi smirk as he looked at me almost victorious, almost as if he knew I didn’t answer him because he was right. Mingi ruffled his already spikey hair with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Just wanted something new,” He answered, “besides, it’s so hot these days, my long locks only made me sweat more. I feel like a new man right now. What do you think, do I look nice?”

Nice was little said, I would’ve described him more like: hot, sexy, attractive, gorgeous, mouth-watering, “Yeah, you look nice. It suits you.”

Mingi smiled happily and bowed lightly before his phone beeped. I didn’t understand how a man like him could be so cute while looking like a Greek God. My eyebrows slightly furrowed as I watched Mingi chuckle and smile down at his phone, quickly typing something on it. Perhaps he was seeing someone? Of course, why would a man like him be single? It shouldn’t come as a surprise; I should have thought about that sooner. But then again, he never mentioned a significant other. With a sigh, I jumped off the table and dusted off my shorts, running my hands through my hair. Mingi paused, looking up at me through his long lashes. I forced a smile on my face, suddenly discouraged by my own thoughts, as I grabbed my phone off the table.

“Got to go, dad’s waiting for me.” I mumbled as Mingi’s eyes slightly narrowed, eyes swiftly running over my body. He nodded wordlessly and I turned around, taking off towards the exit.

“That top looks really nice on you.” My steps halted for a second as I looked back at him and chuckled before exiting the garage, walking towards the reception, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach at the simple compliment. I should probably download a dating app and find someone available to obsess over.

            The blaring music and blinding disco lights in the living room were becoming too much as my tipsy head swirled around like a disco ball, throat parched up and dry from the lack of water. Certainly the amount of alcohol I have had was enough for the night as I pushed people out of my way, slightly wobbling as I headed for the kitchen, desperately needing water. A super rich guy from college threw a huge ass party and invited some guys over from our college, one of them being one of my close friends. I wasn’t one to turn down a good party, and when the alcohol was free, I would certainly attend it. Seonghwa and I had teamed up and played beer-pong together, kicking Wooyoung and San’s asses, but losing to Hongjoong and Yunho. We should have known better not to challenge those two competitive monsters. All in all, the night was fun and after having lost Sooyoung to some hot guy, I hit the dancefloor with Wooyoung and San, the three of us dancing our hearts out to every song. After a while, I grew concerned and started calling Sooyoung, making my two dancing companions almost take my phone away after six missed calls. But it didn’t take long for Sooyoung to finally text me, telling me she was upstairs with a Yeosang named guy smoking some weed, and that she’d be down in no time. I rolled my eyes at the text, huffing as I handed Wooyoung my phone to take care of. My skirt had no pockets and I forgot to bring a fanny-pack, I have grown tired of holding my phone, Wooyoung’s back pocket would do the trick until Sooyoung returned and I could give my phone for her to put in her little purse. The music wasn’t as loud in the kitchen as it was in the living room and it was also less packed, which made me grateful as I walked over to the window and pushed it open, smiling contently at the cool air which hit my face. I certainly needed to cool down. I grabbed a red cup which looked relatively unused and filled it with tap water, downing it in mere seconds only to fill it up again and again until I felt satiated. I threw the cup away and leaned against the counter, holding my thumping head in my hands as I closed my eyes for a second, thinking it would help. But it only made me more nauseous and I quickly opened my eyes as I massaged my forehead, still leaning slightly over. Somebody next to me asked if I was okay and I quickly nodded, telling them that I just needed a moment to regain composure again, and I’ll be off dancing once again. However, a weirdly familiar deep voice suddenly filled the kitchen, some high-pitched giggle following straight after the ridiculous joke the guy told. My nose scrunched up at the very cheesy pickup line which followed and I snorted, unintentionally catching their attention as they didn’t stand too far away.

“Y/N?” The deep voice asked surprised and my eyebrows furrowed as I finally raised my head, smoothing down my hair as it fell in my face.

“Oh, Mingi.” I muttered just a little surprised by his presence here. I wondered how he knew about the party, however, the black-haired girl by his side was a tell-tale. She was a student at my college and she was pretty as fuck. I sighed, and unintentionally glared at her, unimpressed by her presence next to Mingi. It’s not like I knew her well to form an opinion about her, but personally, I didn’t like her that much. Especially since Mingi seemed to be here with her. My eyes fall back onto him and my brain blanched for a second, never having seen him outside of the car service up until now. Him not wearing his tight-fitting clothes was something new and I couldn’t help but let my eyes run all over his body, taking in the sight in front of me. He wore a loose-fitting white t-shirt, the front slightly tucked inside his grey ripped jeans which were baggy. He wore a black pair of convers, and a black fanny-pack was pushed around to his backside to not bother him. However, what made me take a second to process what I was seeing were his accessories. His necklaces were layered as he wore a red braided like material which sat snugly against the base of his neck, then a silver chain followed, and a silver cross which reached just bellow his collarbones. His wrists were decorated with silver chain bracelets, matching the chain around his neck and he wore various rings, some bigger than the other, his right-hand sporting four meanwhile his left three. If all of that combined with his hair wasn’t enough, his fingernails were also painted black, albeit already coming off in some spots, but still painted black. He was a sight for sore eyes and it took everything in me to not grip his arm and walk us upstairs, completely disregarding the girl he was here with.

And she just had to speak up, “Oh, you two know each other?”

“Yeah, her dad’s my boss.” Mingi answered before I could and I raised an eyebrow as the girl took me in, unexpectedly smiling at me as she placed an arm around Mingi’s shoulders. My jaw tensed subconsciously and I licked my lips as I leaned back against the counter, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

“We go to the same college,” She told Mingi, offering her hand to me, “I don’t think we’ve ever really introduced each other, though. My name is Jennie, I’m Mingi’s cousin.”

“Cousin?” My eyebrows raised as I shook Jennie’s hand, “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Mingi playfully pushed Jennie off himself as he answered my question and Jennie just rolled her eyes.

“Whatever, giant, if I leave you alone with Y/N, will you behave?” She raised her eyebrows threateningly at Mingi and he just chuckled, raising his hands in surrender.

“I always behave.” He defended himself quickly, but sounded like he didn’t mean it at all.

“No, you don’t.” Jennie rolled her eyes then looked back at me, “I have to find my boyfriend, he’s somewhere here around, probably drunk off his ass. If Mingi bothers you, just knee him in the stomach really hard and come and find me, I’ll kick his ass for you—”

“I’m right here, you know.” Mingi rolled his eyes and ruffled Jennie’s hair, “Get lost before I chase you away.”

Jennie scoffed but walked away after she waved at me, leaving me alone with Mingi. My hostile behavior slightly dropped, but I couldn’t help look at Mingi with narrowed eyes. I knew what I heard while I was fighting the urge of throwing up. Why would anyone flirt with their cousin? That was disgusting.

“If Jennie is your cousin…why would you say a pickup line to her?” I couldn’t help but ask him accusingly. It made Mingi laugh as he stepped closer, smiling cheekily.

“Eavesdropping, weren’t you?” I opened my mouth to deny his claim, but Mingi didn’t let me, “First of, ew, that’s literally my cousin do I look like I fuck with family? And second, that pickup line was actually sent by someone whom I have been talking to, and I was just reading it to Jennie.”

“How many girls are you talking to currently?” The question tumbled past my lips before I could even think about it. I only could blame the alcohol for making me so straightforward and embarrassing.

“Wouldn’t you like to know…” Mingi chuckled and stepped closer, invading my personal space. I gulped and pressed myself harder into the counter, hands coming to grip the edge of it. A smirk appeared on Mingi’s lips as he leaned down to be eye level with me, eyes searching my face before they settled on my lips briefly. My head was spinning and perhaps I was seeing things, but his tongue poked out for a second, “You look really hot.”

I gulped and let out a quiet breath, looking down at myself. The leather skirt clung onto me like a second skin and the flower decorated corset did little to nothing to cover what I would usually hide. It was Sooyoung’s idea to dress up like this, she wore a matching set except her corset was green meanwhile mine pink.

“Uh, thanks.” I whispered and didn’t dare move as Mingi lowered his head even more, looking through his lashes as he looked me in the eyes. He’s never stood this close to me before; it only now made me realize the height difference between us. And I couldn’t help but faintly smell gasoline despite his strong cologne.

“Dressed up for someone?” He muttered and I felt a warm finger lightly trace the skin of my right arm. I gulped nervously and ignored the goosebumps on my skin.

“I didn’t know you’d be here—” I tried changing the subject, it seemed to be a habit of mine lately.

“But if you did know, would you have dressed up for me?” Mingi’s raspy voice whispered in my ear as he leaned closer, my mouth opening without a sound coming out. My tipsy brain didn’t exactly know how to function in that moment and that meant I had nothing to say. But as he pulled back, we made eye contact, and his intimidating gaze pulled an answer out of me instantly.

“Yes.” I would totally hate myself in the morning for admitting that, but I couldn’t help myself. Not when he was standing so close and saying things like that. A smirk pulled onto Mingi’s lips and suddenly his hand raised as he gripped a strand of my hair lightly and twirled it around, brushing it behind my ear. I watched him mesmerized, body slightly trembling because of different things. The opened window brought in the chill breeze and we stood close to the it; Mingi’s closeness and touch made me want to crash my lips against his, and I was fighting every fiber in my body to stop myself from doing that, thankfully not tipsy enough to lose all rationality.

“I think I know about your little secret, princess.” Mingi’s tone was playful as he suddenly cupped my cheek and tilted my head back, hovering his face over mine, eyes tracing my features slowly. I hoped my red lipstick wasn’t smudged and that it would be smudged in no time.

“What secret?” I asked confused, biting my lower lip as Mingi’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed, his fingers slipping towards my nape as his thumb pushed against my cheek.

“About your little crush—” He barely whispered, eyes on my lips as my mouth parted, heart beating like crazy, “on me.”

Before I could answer him, his teeth caught my lower lip between his and he sucked on the flesh, making my face flush as I mewled, hand holding onto his waist for more stability as the counter wasn’t enough anymore. He held eye contact as he released my lip and I felt like crumbling onto my knees and giving him anything he wanted as my grip tightened on him, head pulled closer to his by the grip he had on my nape. Mingi’s lips barely brushed against mine and I tried to close the impossibly little distance between us, but he just tsked and smirked.

“Good girls eventually get what they want, princess, be a bit more patient.” I couldn’t help but groan in frustration as Mingi released me and took a step back, smirking as he swiped his thumb over my lower lip, smudging my lipstick. I threw him a glare, but he just laughed and then turned around and walked off with a cup he grabbed off from the counter. I couldn’t help but lick my lower lip, pressing a palm against my racing heart as I tapped the sweat off my forehead, needing another cup of water to cool off.

            And I didn’t even have to wait for too long. Four days after the party, my father asked me to stop by the car service because he couldn’t decide what color to choose for the tuning he was doing for one of his friend’s car. I couldn’t have been happier to stop by as I made it my personal mission to stay away from that place for as long as possible, embarrassed by what happened between Mingi and I at the party, but also because I wanted to torture him a bit too. I could only hope he yearned to see me as much as I yearned for him. My father was out, having to pick up some pieces in the nearest city, which was half an hour away, so that meant he’d be gone for approximately an hour and a half. Everyone was gone by now from the car service as working hours were over, everyone except Mingi, of course. He had to catch up on his work as he had to skip a day for some undisclosed business. And yes, Mingi should’ve been working right now on that old car nobody actually wanted to fix, but here he was, balls deep in my pussy, thrusting into me like his life depended on it. I guess he was just a simple man too, and he fell exactly into my trap as I walked through the garage door wearing my little sundress, high heels elongating my legs. It didn’t take long for Mingi to stop whatever he was doing as he dragged me to the backroom, where there were no cameras, and pushed up on the table, wasting no time in undressing himself and working up the both of us. My head was thrown back from the constant pleasure his movements brought, his length reaching places no one else has before, my right hand gripping his bare waist as I rolled my hips to meet his thrusts. Mingi was biting his lips hard, holding onto my hips as I had to hold myself up with one arm, muscle straining with each strong thrust. Perhaps I should have expected him to be vocal, but the whines he would let out every now and then only turned me on even more, dragging my own moans out of me. Grease stuck to his left cheek, just underneath his mole and his already sweaty body from working was glistening once again, smelling strongly of the substance he has been working with to clean rims of the old car.

“I bet you’ve been fantasizing about me fucking you covered in grease and all sweaty from the long day I’ve had.” My only answer was a loud moan as he hit the sweet spot which made me see stars, and for a second, all I could hear were his own pants and the table squeaking louder and louder with each thrust.

“You have no idea—” I moaned as I clenched around Mingi, mind blanching for a second as he hit that spot again, “How fucking hot you look—like this.”

My fingertips dug into his hips and Mingi suddenly leaned down, pressing my back flat against the wooden table, rotating his hips as he suddenly slowed down. My mouth opened in a gasp and my legs went around his hips, one hand tangling in his blonde spikey hair as the other went around his shoulders to anchor myself. Mingi groaned in my ear as I clenched around his length again, his thrusts painfully slow on purpose, making me try to move my hips, but he had me pinned down by his heavier body.

“Fuck, please—” My whine was muffled by his lips as he pressed them against mine, pushing his tongue past my lips as I kissed him hungrily, wanting to feel more and more of him. Our lips moved messily against each other as Mingi slightly quickened his pace, but it still wasn’t enough. My eyebrows were furrowed as it started becoming unbearable and I whined, pulling my head away and choking on my words for a second, “I’m going to fucking die if you don’t go faster.”

I couldn’t believe Mingi had the audacity to smirk as he bit my lower lip harshly, making me push his head away as he chuckled amused, fake pouting at me.

“Thought I said good girls get what they want—” He completely stilled, bringing tears into my eyes out of frustration as I gripped his nape, trying to move against him to no avail, “And you’re being rather impatient right now.”

But before I could say anything, the slightly stood up and pulled almost fully out before slamming in again, his pace relentless and thrusts sharp as he threw his head back, moaning, making me grip onto his lower arm as he hit my g-spot over and over again, making my back arch as broken moans left my lips, nails digging into his skin. I was going fucking insane as his thumb found my clit and he started rubbing circles on it, making me cry out as I felt my orgasm building up, ready to snap any second as Mingi’s moans got higher and higher, my walls clenching tightly around him, bringing him closer to the edge as well.

“Fuck.” He hissed at a particular sharp thrust, his hips almost stuttering but I managed to meet his movements, desperate for my own release as I clawed at the wooden table, back arching as the pleasure became unbearable and the knot in my stomach snapped, making me let out a high-pitched moan, only for Mingi’s lips to muffle it as his hips stuttered, his own release following mine, filling me up. My body trembled and my lungs heaved for air as I came down from the high, our lips touching with Mingi as we both panted into each other’s mouths. His scent was intoxicating and I couldn’t help but burry my head into his neck and lightly bite down on his perfect skin, making him shudder. He didn’t pull out yet and I felt him twitch slightly, making me chuckle.

“So, I’m hot when I’m all sweaty and covered in grease?” He spoke up, voice raspy, and his words made me laugh as I allowed my head to rest against the wooden table, throwing an arm over my eyes. I could feel Mingi’s smile as he pressed a kiss against the corner of my mouth, swiftly pulling out.

“I said it once, I won’t say it again.” I peeked at him as he quickly pulled up his boxers and tight pants, adjusting his tank top.

“If I knew all I had to do was change my hairstyle for you to finally let me fuck you—” Mingi shook his head as he helped me off the table, smirking when I had to lean against it for support, my legs having gone numb, “I would’ve done it a lot earlier.”

“Perhaps if you weren’t so oblivious,” I threw him a glare and pulled up my panties, adjusting my dress, “You would’ve noticed how badly I wanted you since the first time I laid eyes on you, idiot.”

Mingi laughed and threw an arm around my shoulders as he pulled me into himself, “Now that that’s out of the way…do you want to date or do you want us to just fuck?”

His question made me pause as I looked up in his eyes, biting my lower lip in thought, “You want to go out with me?”

“I sure do.” Mingi said it like it was the most obvious thing, then he jutted his chin towards mine, “What about you?”

“What do you think?” I asked with a chuckle.

“That we should go for a second round—”

“Mingi!” I pressed my palm over his mouth and threw him a little glare, “My father could be back anytime, you know. And yes, I do want to date you. Unless you’re always this annoying.”

Mingi fake laughed as he pushed my hand off his mouth, “Aren’t you just so funny?”

I stuck my tongue out at him and he tried kissing it, making me yelp and push him away, which made Mingi giggle as he placed his hands in his pockets, “So, tomorrow at six?”

“But you better shower before you come pick me up.” I pointed a finger at him as we went to leave the room.

“I thought I smelled hot—”

“You can’t smell hot, so just—” I sighed and looked at him, “Just—dress up. You—I mean, you know, you looked really good at the party. I haven’t seen you out of your work clothes before.”

“Aw, aren’t you so shy right now and stuttering all of a sudden?” He cooed and poked my cheek, “As if I wasn’t inside you—”

“Y/N, you still here?!” I heard my father’s voice shout from afar and I threw Mingi a warning look as I pushed him away. He walked towards the car he had to fix defeated, throwing me those sad puppy eyes and a pout as my father walked inside the garage.

“Hi.” I waved at him and he smiled, glancing at Mingi.

“You can fix it tomorrow too, you know?” My father said as he went to put his own utensils away. Mingi hummed but said he didn’t have much until he was done, liar. My father glanced at me and I looked away from Mingi, smiling at my father innocently. He just shook his head and threw his keys at me, making me clumsily catch them.

“Go pick up your mother, I’ll stay behind and help Mingi fix the car.” He muttered tiredly as he walked up to my soon-to-be-boyfriend, oblivious to what Mingi would soon become to him as well. Not just an employee, but perhaps a part of our family too. I jokingly saluted my father as I stopped in the doorway, turning to look at Mingi, who was already watching me.

“Goodbye, Mingi.”

“Bye, Y/N.” Mingi tried to fight the smile off his lips as I turned around and ran off with a giggle, cheeks burning suddenly with embarrassment.

Good girls eventually get what they want, don’t they?

Masterlist

#bvidzsoo #cromernet #song mingi #mingi x reader #song mingi x reader #mingi smut #song mingi smut #mingi drabble #song mingi drabble #mingi scenarios #song mingi scenarios #mingi imagines #song mingi imagine #ateez drabbles #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez university au #ateez mechanic au

[strawbeerossi]

Grading Papers

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: You are Dr. Reid’s TA. One night, he asks you to stay late and help grade papers, only to see you worked up. It’s a good thing he has the perfect solution for that.

Content/Warnings: Power imbalance, age gap (20s/40s), sexual tension, thigh riding, praise.

Word Count: 1.2K

Kinktober Day Twelve: Thigh Riding

Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3

Whenever Dr. Reid had approached you about staying a little later after your class to assist him in grading papers, you reluctantly agreed. It wasn’t like you were uncomfortable with him, in fact it was the complete opposite. Ever since you’d been placed as a TA for his class, you had a massive crush on the older man. Every person in your class did, honestly. There was a reason he had the most students auditing his classes, he was very attractive and his dumbfounded reaction to learning so many students used the class just to look at him just added to his charming demeanor.

He was an understanding man, always willing to listen and work with any student who needed his assistance. It didn’t help that he had a million dollar smile, one that made your heart flutter when it was flashed in your direction. You were in love with a man who was surely old enough to be your father.. Yet you felt no shame.

You’d had vivid fantasies, ones where Spencer would call you in his office and push you against the wall, taking you right there while proclaiming how he’d had his eye on you since he met you. 

You could admit you were a little delusional but nobody could blame you. Who doesn’t want professor Reid to bend them over his desk and-

You were cut off by a throat clear, making you snap out of your thoughts. “It’s good to see you, thank you for coming by. I appreciate you coming to assist me tonight.” He could’ve done it by himself, in all honesty. The papers were quick and easy to blow through, especially with the ability that Spencer had when it came to reading. Instead, he’d invited you here for something else..

“Oh, it was no problem. I didn’t have much else that needed to get done and it is my job to help you when you need it.” You spoke while offering a smile, discarding your backpack before putting it on the floor by his desk. “I’m so glad to hear that. I went ahead and split up the assignments equally.” He assured while passing over a stack of typed up research papers. “I have a chair over here that you can take. My desk is big enough to fit both of us.” He chuckled and gestured to the chair pulled up beside him.

The idea of being so close to Spencer had your cheeks heating up, head nodding as you approached his side and pulled out the chair to seat yourself. It was like you were a horny teenager who was getting worked up just by having your knee touch his, the warmth of your body and the tension bubbling over. “You alright?” Spencer soon asked, an eyebrow raising at how fidgety you were. He was a profiler and you knew that, you’d learned he could see all the tells and read you like a book if he really wanted to. Still, you lied. “Oh! I think I’m just a little scatterbrained tonight.” You tried to save yourself the embarrassment of telling the older man your perverted and sinful thoughts. 

There was a huff that fell from Spencer’s lips, his hands coming out to gently grab your hips before tugging you into his lap. The sudden action had your eyes widening, propped up in the male’s lap as you quickly turned your head to look at him. “Dr. Reid!” Your voice came out in a squeak, making the man shrug his shoulders nonchalantly. “You’re free to get up but given your body language, I can tell this is much more than being scatterbrained. Believe me, I know the signs of someone being turned on. As much as most won’t believe it, I’ve been around enough women to know the signs.”

He was chuckling as he brushed your hair off of your shoulder when you made no effort to move. “I have an offer to make. Don’t worry, you won’t be penalized for saying no, I’ll just back off.” He had to preface his point of not wanting to push things too far beyond your comfort zone. The idea was crazy, the man could lose his license to teach and be blacklisted from teaching. However, you felt just a little desperate. That was what made you nod your head slowly. “Y-yeah, okay.”

His large hands were resting against your hips while helping you stand, his hands moving to your pants to get them unbuttoned and tugged down your legs. “You seem so desperate. I bet you think about this a lot more than you’re letting on.” His tone was like velvet, his gaze on the panties that hugged your waist. 

“How desperate are you though?” The question made you shiver as his hands were ever so gently lifting you up before perching you on his thigh with a soft smirk. This was him expecting you to crumble, to melt while rubbing yourself on his thigh..

You fed right into it, hips rocking steadily against the clothed thigh. The friction of the creases in his slacks against your clothed clit had electricity shooting through your body, mouth agape. “There we go. Does that feel good? Desperate little bunny.” He cooed, his hands guiding your hips as he was fixing the position of his thigh and pushing it up to apply pressure to your needy pussy. “Surprised you’ve lasted this long. You know, you aren’t exactly subtle with the way you look at me.” 

Your face was heating up as he’d caught you, calling you out on your shameless fantasizing whenever you thought he wasn’t paying attention. “You’re so precious.” He began while chuckling softly, his words making your hips speed up on his thigh as you were rubbing your cunt along the creases of his pants, the delicious friction making you roughly grip his thigh.

“Gonna cum on my thigh and soak your panties with your cum?” He questioned, lips now pressing kisses along your shoulder. “Fuck, yes.” You whined, the slick arousal from your panties already seeping through and causing a small wet patch on his right thigh. “Well, what are you waiting for? These papers aren’t gonna grade themselves.” He mused, words dripping with amusement at you, one of his best TAs, left to a whining and whimpering mess while your desperation had you humping his thigh for relief.

The warmth spread over your body, a thin veil of sweat decorating your forehead as you let your head tilt forward, mouth agape while ragged breaths escaped your lips. The rush of arousal shot through your body, nails digging into the part of his thigh that you held as you were hitting your peak, a whine leaving your lips as you could feel the slick seep through your panties, leaving you with uncomfortably wet panties. 

“There we go!” He cooed, gently rubbing your lower back as he was letting your shaking body lean back against his broad chest. “You can sit there as long as you want,” He commented with a chuckle as he was scooting his chair up to the desk while he was getting a few papers from his desk to read them.

#spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid au #strawbeerossi kinktober 2023

[munsooooon]

Steve hates very much to be called "Steven" not even as a joke, he has not talked about it with anyone but implicitly everyone senses it in some way or another and therefore they do not call him that way, it is always Steve or Harrington or some nickname. That's because when his parents called him that it was because they were incredibly angry or drunk and therefore punished him in horrible ways, when they called him Steven he usually ended up getting beaten up. When they called him Steven in public it was enough to make him freeze and make him shiver, eventually he would be silent and terrified for the rest of the evening.

Now being older if someone calls him Steven, he immediately assumes they are fighting with him or that he did something wrong and depending on the situation or the person he will react with sadness or anger, for example, when Tommy called him Steven, it ended in a awful fist fight. It really makes him feel very bad, in recent years sadness is what he felt the most when he hears his name, because it hurts him too much to disappoint the people he loves.

Eddie doesn't know it, but he doesn't call him Steven either, it's always a nickname or Stevie, or Steve or even Harrington. Until one night, when they were in Steve's room kissing fiercely and passionately, Steve was under him doing whatever it took to feel Eddie rubbing his skin, between gasps and accelerated breaths, every little movement Eddie made or every little touch Steve felt, he reacted effusively with his whole body shuddering, he was and felt hypersensitive, he couldn't keep still.

"Steven" Eddie whispered with softness and a beautiful smile, Steve looked at him surprised. "Stay still, I need to take your clothes off, love"

Steve loved that. It was the first time someone pronounced his name with such love. He stood for a few seconds, processing what was happening. He began to shake in anticipation of what Eddie might give him. His brain was short-circuited, and all he could think of was Eddie calling him "Steven" with that authority and that beautiful softness that only he had. He felt loved.

"Are you okay? Do you want us to stop?"

Steve took a few seconds to appreciate him, ran his face gently, because the words wouldn't come out even though they were in his throat. He was always silent when he shouldn't be but he couldn't help it.

Eddie kissed the hand that was on his face, not intending to go any further, and Steve melted once again, he wanted to speak and express loudly the pleasure the other boy was making him feel but he couldn't. Instead, he took Eddie's hand and directed it to his pants to make him feel what he had provoked, to make him understand that he didn't want to stop.

"No, I don't want to stop" Steve said as he sat on Eddie's lap. "Call me Steven again, just you, just you Eddie, call me love, baby, tell me I'm your princess and never stop"

Steve was incredibly loud that night, moving his hips against Eddie's lap, trying to fuck himself harder, deeper. He spoke his name softly and lovingly, until he began to cry, begged for more as tears flooded his face. Eddie held him tight with his arms to keep him right where he wanted him but also to keep him safe to hold him as he released a weight he seemed to be carrying for years.

Eddie couldn't utter a word, it was unbelievable. Eddie was always loud and Steve was quieter, but in the dark, in the security of their love, Steve could be whatever he wanted and could act however he wanted, so he was being loud as he wished because in Eddie's arms no one could punish him.

"You're such a good boy, don't you?" Eddie says softly.

"Yeah?" Steve asks as he chases Eddie, he moans loudly as Eddie once again hits that place on his body, his mouth stays open as he moves on Eddie, soft sounds keep coming out of his mouth, he closes his eyes, because he can feel Eddie all over his body, even though he moves slowly.

"Yeah. You're so sweet, my baby boy, I can't even explain how much I love you, princess"

Steve smiles with his eyes closed. He looked precious, his cheeks were flushed, his lips red, and somehow the tears made him incredibly beautiful.

....

Steve still hates being called that, he finally confessed it to Eddie but also gave him permission to call him that on special occasions. Plus, he told him that he would love to tell his parents what he does with the traumas they caused him. Because now every time he's called Steven it's because he's loved, because he's revered and because he's being fucked incredibly well.

Steve get his name back, Steven belonged to him and Eddie.

#eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson x steve harrington #steddie headcanon #stranger things #steddie ficlet #guys i blame my depression and the deftones for this

[ambrosiagoldfish]

Adam x third spouse part 3 I’m begging pookie ❤️

like a time skip to when Charlie appeared and proposed the idea

Benifit of the doubt Pt.4

Adam x 3rd Spouse! Reader

Warnings: General Adam TW’s, a little bit sad for a moment but it’s ok. Gn! Reader! honestly that’s about it I think?? Wow this is the first time it’s been this short in this series.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

Request Box: Open

Word Count: 4617~

A/n: So… it’s been almost 2 months… whoops. In all seriousness though I’m sorry it’s been so long. I’ve just not been in the mood to write and a lot of stuff has been happening (which is finally over) and I’m glad I could finally post this. I was also, if I’m honest, nervous to post this, cause I’m not sure if everyone’s ready for the direction of the story. But I have made it clear that I wanted to do a time skip to the show at somepoint and decided to do it now! If you enjoy this, please let me know cause I’m really nervous about (Not my words of affirmation love language coming out-) ALSO to the requester, I know you said part 3, but I used it for part 4. I got your request as I was making part 3 soooo my bad. Hope you don’t mind tho <3 this will be the last part before the angsty finale (and maybe an epilogue)

Reblogs are always appreciated!

Anyways this was NOT beta read unfortunately, I tried to get as many errors out during the writing process so hopefully it’s fine. Also, there’s probably some words I might have wanted to italicize or make bold that aren’t, but I’m too tired to care honestly.

Tags: @tired-of-life-86 @nervoussystemss @qopia @lovelyemily @hcneyiced @v3r41ynn @ghostdoodlen @nxptvne-13 @ximenavc-che @edgyfluff @ericityyy @diffidentphantom @faimmm @slasher-whore69 @1-randomized @ozzersauce @fanlovedlt @alientee (if I forgot someone or you want to be added just tell me !!)

Days turned to weeks, to months, to years. Until eventually an eon had passed. An entirety filled to the brim with an indescribable happiness and love, threatening to spill over at any given moment. You loved Adam and Adam loved you.

To say it was all happiness would be a lie, there were some moments of sadness and pain, but all relationships were like that, even ones that lasted for eternity. You both always bounced back, apologize and moved on with a stronger bond than before. And you loved every second of it.

A lot has changed in these last few eons. Adam formed a band and is now the most popular guitarist in all of heaven. You both made new friends, some got into heaven while others were made there. Emily was one of these people to you, she looked up to you for being older than her. You’ve existed for almost all of human existence so, of course she’d look up to you.

Adam had also made new friends, his band members, some officials in heaven, but someone he’s grown close to recently was Lute. You're really happy about his friendship with Lute. She seems like a strong and loyal friend, someone that can keep him grounded while still encouraging him to be more himself. Overall, you really liked her.

How they became friends though is something… less tasteful for you. All the way back when Heaven and Hell had their first meeting on what to do with the surplus of sinners in hell causing an uprising. Neither side came to an agreement in the end, you do feel partially to blame for that, but you still stand by what you did.

You never returned to any of the follow up meetings

But Adam did, surprisingly to you. In the end, you were called to talk with Sera and Adam. You were told of the agreement between Heaven and Hell, about the yearly “cleanse” that Adam and his “Exorcists” would have to commit. At first you were shocked, sure, you didn’t have the best experience with sinners and especially with the rulers of hell, but was death really necessary? You didn’t know what to say, and Adam clearly saw this.

“Babe, you alright?” He puts his hand on your shoulder rubbing his thumb in circles. You place your hand on his.

“Yeah it’s just a lot to take in. Are we sure it has to be done… that way?”

Sera looked down in pain “they’re… uprising and are becoming to much of a threat to heaven.”

You sighed as Adam took you in his arms. Adam was fully aware that you don’t share the same sentiment towards sinners as he does. His hatred towards the unholy souls down in hell was brought about by events that you simply cannot understand. Which he is thankful for, he never would want you to experience what he did.

“If there isn’t anything else we can do then… I guess we have no choice. But I don’t want to… kill anyone, even if they are sinners.”

Adam holds you closer “You won’t have to,” you smile at him, the now familiar flickering of his LED mask meeting your gaze before softly frown “you ok?”

You nod, “yeah, just…I wish there was another way.”

-

That was it. Adam would take his exorcists down to hell to kill as many sinners as they could each year. Adam knew you didn’t want him to talk about it , he kept it as separate as he could from your life. You did have to attend meetings regarding it, as one of the very few people to know about it, that was your duty.

You were fine with having that part of the job. You weren't sure if you could kill someone, sinner or not. So, for the countless years to follow, you played your part with every new extermination, attending meetings to deal with the repercussions of each cleanse.

Adam would also have to attend the occasional meeting. Which is exactly what today was. Sera had called you both in to talk.

“Thank you both for coming. I have to inform you that you will be attending a meeting tomorrow.”

Adam groaned “What! Again? This is like the 4th fuckin’ one this week! Ugh fine! Where is it this time? halo city? Cherub towne” Adam’s voice mocked the locations you’ve both been sent to countless times with a high pitched voice. Even you have to admit that the meetings could drag a bit.

Sera's face turned into a slight grimace as she looks away from you both, she sighs and continues “The meeting will be in… hell.”

“What!” Both your voices raise in shock

“Sera, you know I don’t want to go down there again!”

“Why can’t you just send the other fucking dipshits who know about-“ Adam crossed his arms defiantly

“Stop,” Sera raises her hand toward you both “no one wants to go there, and I know you both especially don’t.” She pauses “But you both are the only available angels who know of the cleanse that aren't busy. Please… I understand your disdain but heaven’s business comes first.”

“Who are we even gonna be talking to -Wait a damn minute- Don’t fucking tell me we have to talk to him.”

“I'm sorry…” You all sat in silence for a moment before Sera begins to speak again, “But you both won’t have to worry about physically being there, we have prepared holograms for you, so neither of you would be in any danger.”

“I'll have an Angel escort you to the ‘meeting’ room tomorrow, please, get some rest. I’m sure you both have had a long day.”

With that, you and Adam went home, you were definitely not feeling well about the meeting, but the fact you wouldn’t actually be there calms your nerves a bit. You had to be a little honest with yourself, hell wasn’t really the issue for you, it was more so the people. Lucifer for one, that made you feel uneasy.

The next morning, you and Adam got ready, you had to motivate him a little. He was clearly not excited for this meeting like you. The entire way there he held you close, even though nothing could have hurt you it made him feel better knowing how close you were.

On the way there, you also got Adam some ribs, his favorite. You thought it would help his nerves a bit. Turns out, Lute was the one Sera assigned to escort you both there. That also made you both a little calmer knowing a mutual friend would be there.

The three of you waited in the ‘meeting’ room for a while, about an hour. At first you thought the meeting might had been canceled or moved and you just weren't told. But then, Lute walked up to you both.

“Sir! The Seraphim has told me to inform you that there’s been a change in plans!”

“What? The fucks that mean?” Adam said stuffing a rib into his LED mouth

“Lucifer won’t be attending the meeting, instead… his Daughter will be here in his stead.” Lute’s mask showed a continuous frown and stern expression as she spoke.

“Daughter?” Your voice shook a little. This was news to you, as long as you’ve existed you had never heard he had a daughter while in hell. You look over to Adam to see His LED eyes were wide in shock but his mask turned into a smile as he sighed.

“Phew boy, we sure dodged a big ass bullet, huh Sweetcheeks?” He laughed as his arm pulled you closer. The whole thing caused you to join in. Suddenly your nerves felt a lot better than before.

“When should she be arriving, Lute?”

“Within the hour.”

-

Adam scarfed down another plate of ribs as you all wait for the “princess of hell” to arrive. The entire time you just had to wonder what kind of person she’d be. The daughter of Lucifer and Lilith. The more you thought about it, the more bizarre it seemed.

But suddenly your thoughts were interrupted by the sliding doors opening to the meeting room and a girl steps in, asking if anyone is there.

“She can’t see us?”

“Yeah, Sera gave me a long ass lector on how this stuff works before we got here. Let’s see here…” Adam pushes a button causing a click to sound out as he says “Sup!”

The girl jumps back and falls to the floor, shocked by Adam’s sudden appearance in the room. She introduces herself as Charlie. Adam offers her to shake his hand, only for it to go through.

“Ha! I fuckin’ got you! Did you fucking see that? Good shit.”

You let out a slight laugh, as you sit and watch the meeting happen. Well, you say “meeting” but nothing about it seemed very professional. Adam for the last hour (you honestly wasn’t sure at this point) had been talking about the most random of things.

You or Lute occasionally shakening your head yes or no while listening to him, while Charlie seemed quite tired already. Not that you could blame her, people who weren’t used to Adam’s banter definitely weren’t cut out for it. But You love every word that comes out of his mouth.

Eventually Adam decides that it’s time to get into what you all came here for. Pulling out a bunch of papers, Charlie begins explaining her solution to hell’s overpopulation. You were only really half listening at first, at least before she mentioned that her solution could stop the extermination which peaked your interest.

She explains her “Hazbin Hotel” and its purpose to rehabilitate sinners, you wanted to hear more of it but Adam cut her off.

The meeting didn’t really go that well, At least for Charlie. But the whole thing left quite the impression on you. The idea of ending the extermination was stuck in your head for so long, and now you had someone who had an alternative.

“Adam, are you sure that it couldn’t have worked?”

Adam looks at you in surprise “What? Do you think that shitshow could have actually worked?” He laughed as he placed a hand on your back. “Don’t even pay it any mind, alright Babe?”

“I know, it’s just… you know I don't like the extermination. So another way to lessen the population of hell should at least be looked into.” Your voice was soft enough to barely hear.

Adam’s gaze softened but he didn’t say another word, only wrapping his wing around you pulling you closer. You lean towards him, snuggling into his soft robe. No matter how much you wanted to ignore it, you couldn’t. You needed to do something, anything.

So that night, after Adam fell asleep, you asked to talk with Sera. Leaving a note for Adam saying you went to buy something just in case he woke up.

“What is troubling you?” Sera’s voice was clear and concise.

You looked toward the ground, your nerves feeling tighter than ever, as you struggled with how to put your words together. “You're aware of all that happened in the meeting with Lucifer’s Daughter, right?”

Sera nods her head “of course, all meetings are documented about as they happen.” She tilts her head slightly “What about it?”

“Well!” You steel yourself before continuing “I would like permission to observe Charlie Morningstar’s ‘Hazbin Hotel’”

Sera’s eyes widen, breaking her calm demeanor before giving a firm “No”

“But-“

“It’s too dangerous for you to be there, Adam wouldn’t want that anyways”

“He would listen if it was an order from you!” Your eyes felt watery but you continued “Please Sera… I know you don’t want the extermination to continue. Just let me do this!”

Sera looked away from you, her feelings evident on her face, any mask now down. ‘Just a little more’ you thought

“Sera, I promise you, I’ll be careful! We don’t even have to fully support them yet, just let me observe them. It would be devastating if so many souls parish if we failed to seek all options!” You beg

Sera sighed, shakingly “…I’ll see what I can do.”

Your eyes gleamed up at the tall woman “Sera, thank you, thank you!” You wanted to hug her but out of courtesy, you advised against it.

Sera tells you that she can’t guarantee anything but she will try as she sends you home to rest.

-

A few days past after that and you haven’t heard anything from Sera. It was a little worrying and felt like a bad sign to you. That was, until you were informed by Sera that your request was accepted!

“But.” Sera stops you before you can celebrate “You're only there to keep track of the progress and to make sure nothing is happening under our noses” You nod your head in understanding

“Also…” she pauses “If anything involving this hotel happens, you will have to take full responsibility, understood?”

You nod again “yes I understand. Have you… told Adam yet?”

She shakes her head

“Ok… can you… not tell him it was my idea, please. I don’t think he’d agree if he knew.”

Sera sighs before nodding her head “Very well, I’ll tell him after you leave”

“Thank you.”

-

You return home, when you got back Adam was already gone, Sera must have already called him to the office. You dreaded when he got back. You didn’t want to see him upset, it hurt you to know how worried he was for you.

A few hours later, Adam comes through the door in a panic. He stomps up to you and pulls you into a warm and intense embrace.

“Don’t go down there. I need you here with me” his voice hitches as his wings wrap around you both, curling you both into a warm and feathery ball.

“Adam…” you paused, was this really the best thing to do? No, It had to be. If this goes well, not only will the extermination stop but Adam wouldn’t have to go down to hell ever again.

“Adam, you know I can’t go against Sera’s orders.” You kiss his cheek “and I won’t be gone forever, I’m only supposed to be there till the next cleanse. Not to mention, I’ll always come back to see you.”

Adam grumbled a little “I know, I just… don’t like you being in the same place that bastard is, and in his brat’s stupid hotel! ”

You laugh softly “Adam…” grabbing his hand, you put yours in it, showing off the gold ring on your finger “I’ll never forget my promise. You know that, right?”

Adam looks at the ring, the gold wrapped around your finger with a perfectly snug fit. Everytime he looked at it was just a reminder of your love for him. That promise was something he could never forget. He slowly raises your hand to his LED mask, kissing the back of it. “Of course not.”

“Good. I promise I’ll be fine, ok?”

He nods. Hand in hand, you slowly lead you both to the bed. The both of you lay next to each other, your bodies linked together like knots. You slwoly remove his helmet from his head, laying it on the nightstand.

Your hands move up his body before landing on his face, cupping his cheeks before pulling him to a kiss before snuggling into his chest.

-

Finally it was Time for you to leave. Sera allowed you to create portals back to heaven in case anything happened and you were in need of assistance. Adam walked you to the front gate.

“Ok, do you have everything? You didn’t forget that fucking angelic dagger I had Lute get for you right-“

You shush him “Adam, I told you I’ll be fine!”

He’s sighs “Damn it- I know that but just make sure to text me while your there ok-

You kiss him deeply “Adam. I know, you’ve told me a hundred times.” You smile as you cup his face “I love you”

He sighs “Love you too Sweetcheeks”

With one final kiss, you give Adam a tight hug before waving goodbye as you went through the flaming portal. As you went through, you take a second to look at your surroundings. In front of you was a tall building. You take a few steps back to see LED lights of a sign flashing the words ‘Hazbin Hotel’

You let out a sigh of relief. You had been a tad bit worried you’d spawn somewhere random and you’d have to find the building yourself. But it seems heaven at least spared you of that.

The red skies of hell were quite different from the pristine blue ones of heaven. Even though you just got here, you could already hear the sounds of screams and explosions in the distance. How welcoming.

You steel yourself and with three hard knocks to the door, you wait for someone to open it. Muffled Scurrying sounds of footsteps approach the door before it creaks open revealing the young blond woman in the doorframe, Charlie Morningstar.

“Hi! I’m-“

The door is slammed shut, Before opening again

“Be not afraid-“

It shuts again…

Well, this may be a bit harder than you initially anticipated. You go to knock again only for it to open once more. This time, the door doesn’t close again, instead the girl mutters a quick “Hi” before going quiet.

“Hello! I didn’t mean to scare you!” You give a small laugh before continuing “I believe we met a couple days ago?” You bring your hand towards her for a shake, to which she reciprocates.

“During the meeting with.. Adam? Right?” She grimaced when she mentioned Adam, which you decided to ignore, you simply smiled and nodded. ”but I don’t believe I caught your name?”

You tell her about yourself, about how your there to stay and monitor any progress the hotel may have. You made sure to pronounce ‘may.’ While you were hoping for this idea to show some kind of positive results, even you weren’t sure if it’d would work.

“Charlie? who’s at the door- WhatHolyShit-“ a woman with a red X over her eye suddenly shouts in surprise. You look over at her, She looked very familiar…

“Wait, you are-“

“Vaggie! Charlie’s sinner girlfriend! And you are?!” The woman known as Vaggie, highlighted the word sinner while performing a “be quiet” gesture with her hand. Your eyes widen a little at the ex-Angel in front of you but you simply smile a nod “I’m Y/n, I don’t believe we’ve met, yes?”

Look, lying is the last thing you’d want to do as a citizen of heaven but you figured that it would be fine if it was to protect someone. Vaggie nodded, her face scrunched up in a tense look.

“You feeling ok Vaggie? You’re looking a little… red?”

“I’m fine! *ahem*, Hun, how about you give them a tour of the hotel.”

Charlie gasped “Yes that's perfect, you may as well get acquainted with everyone if you’re going to be here more often!”

Charlie ran off, telling you “this way! This way!” Over and over. Before you went to follow her, you leaned toward Vaggie and said a quick “Relax, I won’t tell anyone.”

She lets out a sigh before muttering “Thank you”

You both follow Charlie as she shows you the various rooms in the hotel before leading you back to the hotel’s lobby and lounge area.

“Hey! Hello everyone!” Charlie’s voice picked up a little “I’d like to introduce you to our uh… new staff member?” You nod in agreement with the title. The room in front of you was shrouded in looks of both horror and amazement.

“What the hell’s an angel doin’ here?” A lanky spider demon spoke up first

“It’sss an ambush! seek Cover!!” The Snake demon shouted, seemingly grabbing an army helmet from thin air before taking a deep dive behind the couch.

“No Pentious-” She sighs “they’re here to monitor the hotel! Heaven sent them to scout any potential progress the hotel will have”

“It’s nice to meet you all” you look at the people in front of you, to say it was a colorful cast would be an understatement.

“These two are our current tenants of the hotel! Angel dust and Sir Pentious!”

The snake slithered slowly from behind the couch up to you, while the Spider demon remained rested on the couch

“Oh… *ahem* Excuse me dear! I am Sir. Pentious! Formally known as ‘the Architect of destruction’!” He laughs, a slight hiss sounding in his voice.

He offers a handshake which you accept. To which you immediately regret. ‘ Slimey’ you thought, before wiping your, now wet hand on your clothes.

The spider demon, who you now know as Angel Dust, just gives a wave with one of his 4 arms.

“And-“ Charlie extends the word as she quickly walk to a bar by the entrance “this is the recreational area, run by our Bartender, Husk!”

The winged bartender seemed entirely uninterested in your presence or even Charlie’s. The most you got was a small glance before he takes a swig of his alcohol and walks off.

“He’s not the most… social guy in hell” she awkwardly laughs before moving on to the next person. “And this is Nifty, our one and only maid at the hotel! Nifty say hi.”

The short woman scurried moved around you, her eye quickly looking at every every nook and cranny of you as she moved. She made numerous attempts to touch and grab various things on you, your clothes, wings, and eventually she tried to climb up you to get to your halo. That’s when you finally grabbed her in place “you're a… fast one, huh? Nice to meet you!”

“And last but not least! This is Alastor, the hotel’s executive producer and our first -and only- overlord sponsor!”

Immediately, you could tell there was something off about Alastor. The entire aura he gave off was as if he was restraining something completely and utterly ungodly. The static that surrounded him was just one of many whispers you could hear from his soul.

“Hello! It’s quite a pleasure to meet someone of your… holy status!” He offers a hand to which you, hesitantly, shake. “And what do we owe the pleasure for your service?”

“They’re going to be here to keep track of the progress of the hotel…” Charlie paused “you know I’m starting to sound like a broken record- here, it’s late, how about we all get some sleep and we can talk about it in the morning!”

“Fine by me, I am waaay too sober to be having social interaction this late” Angel picks himself up and stretches “I’m gonna hit the hay”

“Here I’ll show you to your room!” Charlie smiles “We -obviously- didn’t have time to make your own so I hope you don’t mind using one of the guest rooms” she laughs

She and Vaggie walks you to your new room before leaving you be, The room was nothing more than just your average hotel room. Of course it did have its differences, a multitude of… eyes seem to be on the wall, staring at you. Well, that’s not the least alarming.

You place your stuff down and begin unpacking, you mostly just brought the basics. Clothes, hygiene stuff, your phone, and, most importantly, a framed photo of Adam.

You sat the photo on your nightstand, angling it just right so that it would always be visible to you. As you do so, you think about the memory the photo brings, you took it on one of the first dates you went on with Adam. It was a relatively tame date, you and Adam, having a picnic by a lake at night. You brought candles so you both weren’t completely in the dark, and you just loved the way he looked, his golden eyes watching the water. The dim candle light illuminating his face with a warm golden shade. Adam hates photos of him with his mask off but… You just had to keep that moment in time forever.

*Ding* *Ding* *Ding*

Speak of the- well, you know the rest. The bright light from the phone comes with the notification sound displaying Adam in bold letters. You smile as you read his messages.

Dixkmaster69

Heyy Sweetcheeks, it’s been a bit since you left

You there??

Fucking answer

You let out a small laugh at Adam’s barrage of messages. He’s not used to you being away from him for more than a day, huh? Not that you could blame him, this is honestly nothing compared to how you feel each year he has to do the extermination.

Sweetcheeks

Hey love

Everything’s fine, I’m ok.

Aside from not having you with me :’(

Dixkmaster69

Fucking finally

You know you don’t have to do this

If I bitch enough to Sera I can get you back by tomorrow

Sweetcheeks

Please don’t, Sera already has enough on her plate.

I promise I’m going to be fine

I’ll be back before you know it.

Dixkmaster69

I know

This shit just worries me

Gonna miss hearing your sexy ass voice at night too ;)

You blush at the message before sighing. Whenever you or Adam approached a topic that made him uncomfortable, he would always try to change the subject to something that made him feel better. You knew why, Adam’s someone who rarely talked about his feelings, even after all these eons together that was something he hadn’t changed. You knew exactly what he needed, even if he didn’t explicitly tell you.

Sweetcheeks

I already miss yours too <3

Do you want to help me fall asleep with that heavenly voice of yours on the phone?

Dixkmaster69

Whatever you want Sweetcheeks <3

You smile when, almost immediately, Adam begins calling your phone. You click the lights off before You make your way in your new bed, not even bothering to change out of the clothes you’ve been wearing. You grab the cover and pull it over you and tapping the answer button.

“Sup”

You yawn “Hey handsome, I missed your voice”

You hear his voice hitch before he caused on “Of course you did, no one has a better voice than the dick master. But uh, yours is a close second”

You’re let out a tired giggle, “such a charmer, you. How’s your day been huh?”

“Oh! don’t even get me started on that- Lute took me to get some ribs to ‘calm my nerves’ or some shit and they had me, ME, wait in line for like 15 minutes! The fucking audacity!”

You smile to yourself as Adam tells you about his day, the sound of his voice was like a sweet lullaby to your ears and you couldn’t get enough of it. But eventually…

“And then when I got home, I couldn’t find my damn charger and it took me like 40 fuckin’ minutes to realize it was under our bed, do you have any idea of how it keeps getting there?” He waits for you to respond only to be met with silence. “Uh bitch, I’m talking to you.”

More silence… well no, actually if Adam focused on listening, he could hear the faint sound of your snoring from the phone. Adam sighs,”Long day, huh?”

Adam lays back in your shared bed, getting comfortable. He sets the phone beside him, plugging it in while keeping it on speaker. He yawns, “Goodnight Sweetheart, can’t wait to see you again”

Slowly, the soft sounds of both yours and Adam’s snores filled each others rooms, a distant, but intimate connection. Even in slumber, you couldn’t stop thinking of your handsome and caring soulmate.

#Hazbin hotel #hazbin #Hazbin hotel x reader #Hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x gn reader #hazbin hotel x male reader #hazbin hotel x female reader #hazbin x gn reader #hazbin x male reader #hazbin x female reader #Adam x reader #adam x gn reader #adam x male reader #Adam x female reader #Hazbin hotel Adam #hazbin adam #Hazbin hotel Adam x reader #Hazbin Adam x reader #Charlie Morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #x reader #x male reader #character x male reader #fanfic #character x reader #x female reader

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 58 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley is hesitant to drive his family to Disneyland, and he's even more hesitant to make love to you. All he seems to be able to think about is the baby and his desire to plan the perfect, low-key wedding, but you make sure he takes some time to relax.

Warnings: pregnancy topics, swearing, smut, angst, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 3700 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

Bradley couldn't ever remember being this stressed out in his life. Well, besides every single time he had to deal with Meredith. The weeks had absolutely flown by, probably because he was not so secretly dreading driving up to Disneyland for Thanksgiving weekend. He'd voiced his opinions and concerns several times, but apparently your doctor's answer overrode his. Disneyland was happening, and the only thing he'd been able to insist upon for his own peace of mind was the addition of Nat.

Thanksgiving dinner at Mav and Penny's had been relaxing and peaceful. Bradley hadn't been home for the holiday the past two years, and it felt good to have a day to just appreciate everyone around him. Having you there made all the difference, and he knew he wanted you with him for every holiday from now on. You tried to help Penny cook and clean up, but everyone else insisted you rest and just enjoy yourself.

That was just a few hours ago, and now the sun had set, and Noah was in his pajamas. Bradley buckled him in the backseat of the Bronco before checking to make sure all of the bags made their way in as well. That's when he heard the argument coming from the sidewalk. 

"You can sit in the front," you insisted. "I don't mind sitting in the back with Noah."

"No, no," Nat replied, "I insist. I'll sit in the back so you can sit with Bradley."

"But I kind of want to sit with Noah," you told her. "You can sit with Bradley and talk about work."

"Or," Nat replied, "you and he can hammer out some of the wedding details while you sit in the front with him."

"Are you both serious right now?" Bradley asked as he slammed the tailgate shut. "Neither of you want to sit with me?"

He held his arms out to his sides, and you rushed over to give him a hug with a little smirk on your face. "I'm sorry, Daddy," you whispered, pressing your cheek to his chest and giving him a hug. "It's just that Noah is so sweet, and he'd probably hold my hand until he falls asleep."

Nat used this opportunity to get herself situated next to Noah with a bright smile on her face. "You know, I expect this kind of thing from her, but not from you, Princess," Bradley said before kissing the top of your head. "Get in the front and hold my hand instead?"

Thirty minutes later, Bradley was driving up the highway, and he was the only one awake as your hand rested softly in his. He stroked your knuckles and your ring as he wove along the roads on the way up to Anaheim. "I can't believe what you've done to my life," he whispered, shaking his head but smiling. At the beginning of the year, he'd been stressed out pretty much all the time. He would have never planned a trip to Disneyland just for him and Noah, because every day felt impossible back then. If he was honest with himself, every day still felt challenging now with Noah getting older and the baby on the way, but nothing was ever harder because of you. It was always better.

He heard rustling in the backseat, and when he glanced in his mirror, he saw that Nat was awake. "Javy texted me," she said with a yawn when she met his eyes. "He said your dog is a pussy magnet."

Bradley snorted. "Let me guess. He took her for a walk and women came out of the woodwork to talk to him?"

She hummed and said, "Maybe leaving Skittles with him for the weekend was a bad idea."

"Nah," Bradley replied, stifling his laughter. "I'm sure he told them that he already has a really mean girlfriend and that she would kick their asses if they looked at him too long."

She leaned forward and smacked the back of his head. "I'm not mean."

"Sure, Nat."

"Hey, I did the impossible by finding you a wife. That's nice person shit right there."

"Yet with the undertone of condescension," Bradley replied, making her laugh. "I do owe you though. And you won't even let me say thank you."

This time she patted him gently on the back of his head. "You can say it one time."

"Thanks, Nat."

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

You vaguely remembered half walking and half being carried up to the hotel room in your state of exhaustion. Thanksgiving had taken more out of you than you thought considering you barely did anything to help Mav and Penny with dinner or dessert. But apparently the turkey made you sleepy. Everything was making you sleepy now. But you were finally past the progesterone shots, and your doctor said everything was looking good.

Friday morning when you woke up as the sun just started peeking in through the window, you jolted up in bed naked. Bradley was still asleep next to you, snoring softly, but you looked around the room a bit frantically. "Daddy," you gasped, shaking him awake. "Bradley! Where's Noah?"

He rolled onto his back and looked up at you through barely cracked open eyes. "Princess?" he rasped, simply reaching for you and trying to pull you back against him. But the other bed was empty, and your heart wouldn't calm down.

"Where's Noah?" you repeated, and now he started to sit up.

"Next door," he mumbled. "He's in the other room with Nat, Baby."

You placed your hand over your heart and eased yourself back down onto the pillow as you whispered, "Right. Right. Sorry, I just barely remember you even bringing me to the room last night."

"Don't apologize," he murmured next to your ear as he pulled you closer to him. "You're the best Mommy." His face was pressed against your neck and shoulder, and his arm was like a boa constrictor, tightening little by little until around your ribs until you were snug against him. You felt protected and loved as the sound of his steady breathing calmed you down. But he had morning wood, and you could feel Bradley's erection firm and long against the back of your thigh as he spooned you. 

It had literally been months since you felt his cock thrusting inside you. You and he hadn't had vaginal intercourse since before he left for his special flight mission in Japan, and now you were aching painfully. Sure, you'd had fun getting him off with your hands, mouth and breasts for the last four weeks, and he'd been very generous with his lips, mustache and fingers. But you wanted him to fill you up. 

"Bradley," you whispered, trying to figure out if he'd fallen back to sleep again behind you, but when he grunted your first name, you moaned. He bucked against you even though you knew he was trying not to. "My doctor said it's okay now."

His rough thumb was stroking your nipple as he rasped, "I know, but maybe we shouldn't risk it. I can wait until after the baby is born."

An absolutely scandalized noise escaped you. "I love you for that, Daddy, I really do, but I don't think I can make it five more months."

"I'll go down on you," he said, letting his hand skim along your growing belly until he was cupping your pussy. "Happily." But you were pinned between his rock hard cock and his hand, and you knew exactly what you needed.

"I want your cock," you demanded. "It's perfectly safe for the baby now that my uterus is fixed up. And I want it."

Rarely did you ever tell him that you wanted something, and you almost never whined, but the combination of the two seemed to set him off a little bit. He was twitching and pulsing against your leg, and you felt him reach down to free himself from the confines of his underwear. Skin on skin was enough to make you whine his name a little louder. When you eased your leg up and back over his hip, you could feel the tip of him rubbing against your wet pussy.

"Take me just like this. Nice and slow from behind," you whispered, and his only response was a long string of obscenities as he pushed his cock just an inch or so inside you. 

"Baby," he ground out as his hand squeezed your hip. "Slow. Real slow. I don't want to hurt either of you."

You gasped, "You won't," as he slid himself deeper and deeper before eventually bottoming out with his hips pressed to your butt. "Oh god, you feel so good."

Bradley kept himself still, just like that, barely moving but filling you up regardless. "Shit," he whimpered next to your ear. "Fuck, it's been months." His voice was so rough, and his hot breath left goosebumps trailing down you back and arm. When you wiggled back against him, he grunted. "I'm not gonna last."

"I don't care," you told him, guiding his rough fingers to your clit and enjoying every sensation his body gave you. He smelled good, and he was warm and strong and big. Big everywhere. His lips found the spot right behind your ear, and he sucked gently. Your nipples were tender peaks, and your belly was just starting to show proof of your pregnancy. There was evidence of those days of rough sex from the summer all over your body, but right now he was gentler than ever.

"Am I hurting you?" he whispered before taking your earlobe between his lips. His thrusts were smooth and languid, and you could feel every bit of him.

"No. You're perfect." That had his fingers working a little more frantically on your clit, but he kept the same pace with his thrusts. Slow and steady and never rough. 

But he got you there. "Baby," he whined, punching and plucking until you were sure your clit was a tight little ball of nerves against his fingertips. You started to squeeze around him, and he held still, more filthy cursing filling your ears as he spilled his cum inside you.

"Oh. Daddy," you moaned softly as you came in his embrace with his body pressed to your back. You couldn't stop yourself from bumping back against him as you fucked yourself gently along his cock, enjoying every little tremor and tremble.

"Tell me I didn't hurt you," he whispered, easing his wet fingers up along your belly, cupping where you imagined the baby was right now. "Please."

You turned to look at his earnest eyes over your shoulder and said, "You didn't hurt me."

"I love you, Princess." A series of soft knocks made you jump in his arms, and Bradley groaned as the knocking continued. He was still inside you as he said, "That's gotta be Noah."

You realized there was a door conjoining the next room with yours, and you could hear Noah's little voice calling out. "Daddy? Mommy? I want to meet Mickey Mouse."

With one more kiss to your shoulder, Bradley withdrew himself from your body, inspected his cock and then pulled his underwear back up. "Go make sure you're okay," he commanded as he stood. "I'll take care of Noah."

Carefully, still blissfully aware of the way that orgasm left your skin tingling, you made your way into the bathroom as Bradley's cum dribbled down your inner thighs. You cleaned yourself up, and there was no sign of blood at all. You took a quick shower, and you felt amazing. When you eventually emerged from the bathroom all wrapped up in your towel, you found your boys both dressed and ready to go and sitting on the edge of the unused bed.

"Mommy," Noah whined. "I'm hungry and I want to meet Mickey Mouse."

You bent and kissed his soft curls as you said, "Well take care of both of those things for you. Promise."

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

Disneyland was simultaneously the most wonderful and most anxiety inducing place Bradley had ever been. The look on Noah's face as the four of you explored the parks together made Bradley smile, but every time you started to look tired, he wasn't sure it was worth it. But then you'd smile at him, too. He'd give you anything you wanted.

"Are you okay?" he asked, collecting you in his arms as Nat rode the teacups with Noah for the third time in a row. "You sure I didn't hurt you this morning?"

A little smile curled along your glossy lips before you kissed him softly. Then you kissed him again and again. It was bad enough that you looked so much younger than him; he got a few raised eyebrows here and there. But then you always called him Daddy with absolutely no shame whatsoever. It always got under his skin and made him run a little hot, but now you had your belly pressed against him as you kissed your way back close to his ear.

"Daddy," you crooned. "You didn't hurt me one bit. You gave me exactly what I needed. Your big cock."

"Baby," he whispered, squeezing your hips in warning. "Don't get us kicked out of the happiest place on Earth."

You laughed and wrapped your arms around his neck. "You know what would make it even happier?"

"Don't say it," he rasped, shaking his head as you looked up at him. "I'm begging."

You just smirked. "Sneaking off to that family bathroom..."

Bradley tipped his head back and groaned while you giggled. "You said it."

Finally having sex again in the hotel room this morning before Noah practically kicked down the door in search of breakfast seemed to make you extra clingy. Not that Bradley minded one bit. He didn't. He loved it. But you had been alone when you had to go to the emergency room last month, and he was still on edge about everything that happened when he was in Japan. 

When you started tugging on his arm, he shook his head again. "No. Not here. Only where I can be as gentle with you as possible."

Then you were in his arms again telling him how sweet he was, and Bradley was just a lost cause. 

"I'm tapping out," Nat announced as she and Noah walked over hand in hand. "That ride is okay the first two times, but after that, it's evil."

"I loved it!" Noah announced as Bradley picked him up. 

"Of course you did," he said, kissing his son's cheek. "What do you want to do now? Another ride? Get a snack?"

"Meet Mickey Mouse!"

Bradley groaned for an entirely different reason. The line to meet the characters was pretty long, but you'd insisted on buying something called an autograph book, so he said, "Sure, Bub. We can go meet the main mouse."

Bradley held hands with both you and Noah while Nat led the way, talking with her hands and bouncing like she was Tigger to make Noah giggle. Bradley was right, the line was long, but it was worth it. Noah didn't complain about how much time it was taking, but he did ask you to pick him up over and over again.

"Let me hold you," Nat offered, but Noah kept reaching for you instead. When Bradley told him he was too heavy, tears filled his eyes and his face scrunched up.

"Sweet Noah," you whispered, kissing his cheek and kind of cuddling up with him while he was in Bradley's arms. "Don't cry. I'm right here. I'm just not allowed to lift things like big, growing boys who love dinosaurs and coloring books, okay?" You wiped at his tears with your thumbs, and Bradley was once again mesmerized by you. "That's better," you told him. "I don't want you to cry right before we get to meet Mickey Mouse."

Noah sniffled and nodded, and you didn't move away from his as the line moved up. "You're amazing," Bradley whispered. "Mommy of the year."

"There he is!" Nat gasped, perhaps more excited than all of the kids in the line put together. "Mickey! And I'm not talking about Fanboy!"

Bradley chuckled as the Mouse beckoned them forward to take photos. 

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

"How about we ride something else?" Bradley asked, but you watched Noah tug him back toward It's a Small World. 

"This is my favorite!"

"Noah," he laughed, "you've said that about every single ride all day long."

"No, this one," Noah insisted.

"Just one more time?" you asked, also tugging on Bradley.

"We've been on it seven times in a row," he insisted, shaking his head.

"Six times," Nat replied, pushing him from behind. 

"Natasha, the song is going to kill me," he said, taking a few steps toward the line queue again. "I'll never be able to get it out of my head."

But the three of you won, of course. Because he was willing to do anything that you and Noah wanted. And that included riding a boat past legions of slightly creepy, singing, animatronic children. "You'll be fine," you insisted, rubbing his abs. "After this, we'll feed you dinner."

"You better," he mumbled, winking at you. "And I need more Mickey shaped snacks, too."

To your delight and Noah's, Bradley willingly rode It's a Small World three more times and sang the song nearly the whole time. "I'm going to annoy you with this forever," he whispered in your ear as the little boat sailed along. 

You looked up at him and said, "Please do. That means you'll be around forever."

His eyes widened in soft surprise. "I'm not going anywhere." You felt his thumb run across your engagement ring where he was holding your hand in his lap. "Just a couple more weeks and we'll be married."

The fact that he was taking care of most of the planning without showing any signs of stress was amazing to you. As the song played on repeat and the dancing animatronics spun around, you tapped your foot. "You really want to get married so soon?" you asked him. 

"Hell yes. I already told you I did."

"Even if it's just a backyard wedding?"

Bradley gave you all of his focus like you were the only thing in his world when he said, "All we really need is both of us and Noah for it to be perfect."

"Technically we also need Natasha," you added, and he rolled his eyes.

"Fine. We also need Natasha. But that's only because she got ordained online. Other than that, I don't really care about the details too much. I just want to see you in a wedding dress."

You bit your lip and moaned. "Nothing fits me great right now. And I feel like my belly is really going to pop out one day soon."

"I can't wait," he grunted, making you shiver at the tone of his voice. "Jesus, I hope your belly gets bigger in the next three weeks."

His lips found your neck, and this time you were the one who had to remind him that you were very much in the middle of Disneyland sharing a seat in the boat with Nat and Noah. But now you had a better idea of what kind of dress you should get; you'd been holding off, hoping to figure out how to get one that would still fit for the big day. 

"So you want to be able to see the bump in the wedding photos?"

"Princess," he grunted. "God, yes. But don't you dare make me hard on It's a Small World."

You were still laughing as the boat floated up to the exit and you climbed out.

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

"Stop," you and Nat whined in unison as Bradley started singing the Small World song again on the drive back to San Diego on Sunday. But he just smiled and finished, dodging away from your hand as you tried to cover his mouth from the passenger seat. This time, he saw you and Nat playing rock, paper, scissors to see who got to sit in the back with Noah. Your rock lost to her paper, so you were in the front with him. 

"This is your punishment for being mean," he said as Noah napped. "And I'm talking to both of you."

"I'm just happy that you loved Disneyland," you said over his singing. You were looking at wedding dresses on your phone and holding the selections up for Nat to look at. Bradley had to fight to keep his eyes on the road instead of the screen, but he honestly did want to be surprised. 

"Hey, what am I supposed to wear?" he asked, realizing that you'd seen him in most of his nicer clothes when he was leaving you at home with Noah to go on app dates. He'd have to buy something new, something just for you. Something to make the day special.

"Doesn't matter," Nat said followed by a low whistle as she held your phone. "Nobody will even notice you if your wife is wearing this dress. Holy shit."

Bradley glanced in the rear view mirror to make sure Noah was still asleep. "It's that good?" he asked as you looked a little bashful next to him. "Buy it. Put it on your princess card."

"It has two-day shipping," Nat said. "If you don't like it, we can go out and look at some other options on Wednesday after work."

"I don't know..." you said, hesitating as you took your phone back and looked at whichever dress Nat thought was perfect. 

"Buy it, Baby, or I won't shut up for the next hour." Bradley cleared his throat and started singing, "It's a world of laughter, a world of tears. It's a world of hopes, and a world of fears."

"Fine!" you said, scrambling with your phone as Nat covered her ears. "I'm buying it!"

Bradley smiled at the road before him and muttered, "Gotta love Disney."

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

If you have Princess wedding dress inspo (that will show off her little bump just like Bradley is hoping) please send it to me! I'm thinking we will end up with 62 parts for this story, which is absolutely wild to me. Thanks for reading! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 59

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@wintercap89

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@chaoticassidy

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@shanimallina87

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

@gennyanydots

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@magicalmorg

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@ughthisisntright

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@mygyn

@yuckosworld

#bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster fanfiction #rooster imagine #rooster x reader #rooster x you #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #the younger kind

[kairiscorner]

inspired by @binibinileonara's idea :D

ok but imagine miguel with an airheaded personality but super smart gf like

miguel o'hara with a genius, airheaded girlfriend (headcanons + blurbs !!)

he could never fathom at first how you could be so amazingly smart, the real problem fixer for nearly everything, finding all the little things that need correction in the plans he comes up with–but also be so oblivious at times.

he appreciates how sweet you are, but he doesn't like it when you give other people the same attention you give him, with you not really seeing anything wrong with being friendly with miguel and everyone else all the same.

when he gets mad, you're the only one who can bare him (hell you even tease him that he'll look way older if he frowns again when he's irritated).

he loves how you can go from proposing solutions to multiversal threats that can undo everything that has ever come into existence in the blink of an eye to petting kitties the next moment and giving them names after kinds of fish.

he can never have a serious, adult conversation with you, you're too busy staring at his hair and thinking how nice it'd be to touch it, how fluffy it'd be.

"are you even listening to me?" miguel asks you with a scowl on his face as you absentmindedly gaze up at his hair's curls. "are you listening to me?" he asks you again as he gently grabs your cheeks and brings your eyes to look into his. "you have such puffy hair, miggy." you say with a smile as he grumbles. "is it that hard for you to focus on what i'm saying?" "when you've got tufty locks like that, yes, it is." you said as you instinctively reached out for his hair, with him reluctantly letting go of you and sitting down for you to run your hands across his hair.

you take advantage of the fact he isn't as good with technology as you are and intercept his calls all the time just to play 'barbie girl' or 'california girls' to piss him off.

he does appreciate how cute you are when you're being an airhead sometimes, especially if you had a childish side to you that liked things just as cute, sweet, and adorable as you.

(((you were the one who made the miggy doll)))

he does wonder sometimes how you can monitor the multiverse while playing games on the side. he has told you repeatedly to focus, but you tell him all the time that you can focus on everything, it's easy for you, he's just being a perfectionist.

if you're easily distracted by sweets, like just drop all your work to have a bite of something sweet, miguel would bait you to quit teasing him with some candy. or if you're being difficult and don't wanna help on a mission because you're too tired or stubborn that day, he baits you with sweets.

"please, i won't ask for anything more after this, i just need you to coopera–" "no, it's naptime." you said as you were about to head to your private quarters. miguel blocks your way with his massive figure, with your grumbling under your breath as he stares you down. he pulls out a bag of your favorite candies, which catches your attention. with widened eyes, you look up at him and back at the candies. "will you please cooperate now?" he asked you as you snagged the bag from his hands and snacked on one of the candies. "okay, maybe i will. it's child's play anyway, let me help." you said with a cheeky grin as miguel groaned. he loved you dearly, but it was like you were always getting your way with him. though he didn't hate it, you really were cute like this.

i just know you get stuck in some of the spider people's webs sometimes, especially when you're goofing off with their webshooters. and who's gonna save you?

"miggyyyyyyyy..." you called for him as you hung upside down by the ceiling, wrapped in synthetic webbing as miguel entered the room, seemingly unfazed by your current state. he sighed as he sliced you free of the web restraints and caught you in his arms. "miggyyyyy!" you cooed his name as you snuggled up close against his chest. "why do you keep doing this?" he asks you as you wrapped your arms around his neck and smiling as you were now in his arms. "maybe i just wanted to be in your arms for a change..." "or you just love being an irresponsible little brat." he murmured as you giggled and looked up into his eyes.

"but you'll save me anyway, right? then i guess my plan worked." you said with a sly smile as miguel threatened to drop you. "no, miggyyyyyy..." you whimpered as you clung on to his neck as he let go of you. he sighs reluctantly as he scoops you up and carries you around, not minding the onlookers who'll stare you being carried like a baby by this man.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @fiannee @jrrantss @fictarian @yuridopted0 @ophanimgold @luvstarrstruck @arachnoia

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderman 2099 #atsv #atsv miguel #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #atsv fluff #atsv imagines #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse fluff

[koolades-world]

Ok ok ok hear me out because this is gonna be so cute

All the brothers but Lucifer turning into babies/toddlers and it’s just the most adorable thing ever

Mammon is clinging to his older brother like he’s his life support(if Lucifer puts him down he cries) 🥺

Omg I’m gonna cry thinking about this

Ok so back to the original thing I was gonna say

Can you do headcanons / a fanfic of MC helping Lucifer deal with his now baby brothers and actually has a knack for it

Like they’re rocking them to sleep, helping feed them, playing with them, etc

MC also obviously takes pictures of Lucifer taking care of his brothers too and it’s the absolute cutest thing you’ve ever seen

The brother’s ages also depend on how old they actually are, so mammon is like 4, Levi is maybe 3, Satan is 2, Asmo is 1, and of course the twins are like a few months old

Belphie and Beel cannot be separated or they will start crying

OMG asmo saying his first words / taking his first steps

I’m actually gonna cry this is so cute

I can totally see Satan insisting he doesn’t wanna be near Lucifer but the moment Lucifer isn’t within his sights he starts throwing a tantrum because he does indeed want to be near him

HFHCKWBGHWJCUSHVZBC anyways-

(Can we also get his reaction to MC humming Belphie and Beel to sleep)

hi!! AWWW this is literally so cute!!!!

parent mc and luci <333

decided to do hcs and a drabble since this is just so so so adorable. i could totally be talked into writing more of this concept haha

please enjoy!

Mc and Lucifer take care of his brothers as babies

I've already decided this was def solomon's fault, just like most other shenanigans

lucifer was at home with his brothers, and you happened to be with diavolo, helping him with a redecoration project at the palace

he could hear his brother yelling in the living room, but suddenly, it all stopped. at first he wasn’t too alarmed, but as the silence persisted, he decided to get up and check it out since his older brother instincts began to kick in

solomon actually met him at his door, word vomited, and almost vanished on him. lucifer managed to catch him by the collar and made him repeat himself

when he finally explained what happened, lucifer almost dropped him out of shock and called you up because he needed major help

once you arrived, you were less upset than lucifer

while he was stressed already, you couldn't help but coo at how adorable they all were

mammon and levi were arguing about something you couldn't understand, satan was occupied with a pillow with tassels on the couch, asmo was playing with the ends of solomon's cape, and the twins were fast asleep

luci fully expects you to back out, and is prepared to deal with them on his own, but is surprised when you scoop up asmo and began playing with him

after that, he learns what a wizz you were with kids

when they had a problem, you were on top of it

the two of you took turns changing diapers and things like that but he was surprised on just how much you were able to handle on your own

his brothers also adored you and were always competing for you attention and showing you all of their things

anything you did, they would want to do too, which was both cute and useful

in the meantime, solomon was supposedly trying to find a reversal spell or potion of some kind, but lucifer didn't really believe him

a few times, you had visitors. luci only allowed diavolo, barbatos, luke, simeon, and solomon into the house. luke had lots of fun and helped you take care of the brothers, while lucifer and simeon talked and did other chores

over this time, luci learnt a lot about you, and grew to appreciate you evermore

"Mammon! Levi! Time for dinner. Come sit down please." You set out four plates of vegetables, pasta, and chicken nuggets for the older brothers. Asmo and Satan were already in their chairs, waiting for food to be served. While they ate, you and Lucifer would feed the twins from a bottle. You'd fallen into a routine and learnt exactly how each of the boys liked everything done.

The two, who were running around the dinner table, settled into their chairs beside each other, and began to eat. Granted, they were arguing the entire time, but as long as they ate their food, you could care less. The arguing became background noise quickly enough.

Once they were mostly finished eating, Lucifer took them upstairs to get ready for bed, while you handled the twins. To make things easier, the two of you decided to let them all sleep in Lucifer's bed. At first, you had wanted to keep Beel and Belphie in a crib in his office, so the others didn't wake them up, but they couldn't rest there for more than an hour or so without waking up and bawling their eyes out.

As Lucifer got his younger brothers into their pajamas for bed, they all began to act as they had every night when he did that routine with them nightly, such as beginning to get restless and whining about bedtime. As he did, and while he humored them, he remembered how thankful he was for you and how he wouldn't be able to do any of this without a child expert like you.

It took him a while, but eventually, he had them to bed, and while it took a little longer, you had the twins to bed temporarily, to give the two of you time to get ready for bed.

"Mc." Lucifer greeted you as you walked into the room with a nod.

"Hey! Everything all good?" You slid into the seat next to him and began eating the plate of food he had set out for you.

"Yes. They're all asleep but I had to promise Mammon cartoons tomorrow morning. Expect to be woken up early." He chuckled a little.

"Ahh, that's alright. Could be worse. Besides, you love him." You smiled at Lucifer. He had finished eating, and was just relaxing, and enjoying the silence. As you continued to talk to him, he sat and stared at you. After a while, you realize he hadn't said much of anything. "What's wrong? Something on my face?" You wiped your face with a napkin.

"No, no. I just wanted to tell you thank you." He paused for a moment before continuing. "Even if this is the rest of out lives, I wouldn't mind, as long as you're here." Lucifer had never said something so sweet so randomly to you.

"Luci! You're too kind. Thank you too." You threw your arms around him. You were thankful for him too, and while you didn't exactly know how to put it in words, you tried your best to put all your feelings into that hug.

Once the two of you were done there and ready for bed, you got the twins and joined his other brothers in bed. You were able to drift to sleep with a baby on your arms and with the thoughts of Lucifer's true affections for you.

#obey me #obey me! #obey me x reader #obey me satan #obey me mammon #obey me asmo #obey me belphie #obey me beel #obey me levi #obey me lucifer #obey me mc #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date #omswd #another piece I don't love but the idea is so fun! #next time I write this I'll give myself more time

[atticrissfinch]

Ruined

Part 2 to Gimme What I What: A Fic In Texts

pairing: joel miller x afab!reader  summary: when you and joel meet for the first time, the awkward date definitely ends up being worth it  warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] no!outbreak, brief implication of sarah death, dom/brattamer!joel, age gap (Joel is 56, reader is 25), brief mentions of alcohol consumption, dirty talk (joel has a filthy mouth i’m so sorry), daddy!kink, praise!kink, degradation!kink, slight humiliation!kink, slight pain!kink, oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering, slapping, choking, spitting, ball-sucking, spanking, light hair pulling, light restraint, unprotected piv, creampie, a splash of innocence!kink for funsies, pet names/degrading terms (darlin’, babygirl, pretty girl, whore, slut, bitch, etc). reader is shorter than joel and has hair long enough to grab. probably more than this honestly just fucking everything, joel got v carried away…  word count: ~9.2k | ao3 a/n: thank you all so much for your love on part 1!! it was way more than i ever expected for my first fic in the fandom, so i appreciate it so much. these two definitely got away from me a bit but joel gets what joel wants and i am not one to deny him. I highly recommend reading part 1 prior to this. also no beta so pls forgive any mistakes we simply don't see them.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Kofi

Joel is half-tempted to down a whiskey before he leaves for the restaurant, but thinks better of it. He has never been so goddamn nervous. Not on his first date with his ex-wife, not his first official project of his brand new business, not even the day Sarah was born. 

After his rather indecent text exchange with you, his brain was off to the races. He didn’t want to come off as overbearing or desperate, but damn if he couldn’t get you off of his mind. 

He lasted three days before he texted again. 

[7:34 PM] Joel: Would you allow me to treat you like a proper gentleman should have done first and take you to dinner on Saturday?

[7:36 PM] You: Can’t stop thinking about me, huh? 😏

[7:36 PM] Joel: I’m a lonely old man. Humor me. 

[7:37 PM] You: I think you misspelled “horny” 😝

[7:38 PM] Joel: Hey. A man can be two things. I can be lonely and horny. 

[7:38 PM] Joel: But the two things I prefer to be are a Southern gentleman and a depraved degenerate. 

[7:38 PM] Joel: Ideally on the same night. 

[7:39 PM] Joel: So let me get dressed up. And then after maybe you’ll let me pull YOUR dress up 😉

[7:40 PM] You: Smooth

[7:40 PM] You: Who says I’ll be wearing a dress?

[7:41 PM] Joel: Again, I ask. Humor me. 

[7:41 PM] Joel: 7 PM, Olivio’s?

[7:43 PM] You: I’ll be the one in the dress

It’s true, he hadn’t been on a date in years. Over a decade, if he’s really counting. After everything that happened with his ex and Sarah…well, he’d spent a lot of time picking up his own pieces and attempting to weld them back together with nothing but a heat gun and several bottles of whiskey. And a lot of meaningless sex.

Tommy had helped, but he had his own life and family to care for. Joel does like Maria, even if she is a bit tender-footed with him most of the time. And damn it, does he love his niece. But sometimes when he looks at that rambunctious, golden-hearted tornado, he feels like his stomach has suddenly taken residency in his throat. She’s got a lot of Tommy’s features. Many of which are also Joel’s features. 

And many of which were also Sarah’s. 

Joel can’t quite put his finger on the reason he asks you out on a date. He is certainly no stranger to one-night-stands or fuck buddies. There was something about the way you seemed to completely disarm him without even trying. The way you made him laugh right off the bat. The way you responded so readily to his brand of dirty talk.

Shit, it also helps that you might be the most gorgeous young woman he’s seen in a long time. He may be old, but he is definitely not blind. If you like experienced older men, he’s got an extraordinarily willing one for you right here. He sincerely hopes you’re just as beautiful in person and not playing him for a fool. 

He checks himself for the tenth or eleventh time in the mirror, ensuring the buttons on his white button-up aren’t accidentally asymmetrical and that an appropriate amount of his chest is showing–trying his best to walk the fine line of “dressed up, but not too dressed up”. 

He went back and forth on the tie, ultimately deciding it might be a tad too much. He does choose a nice belt buckle–a sleek oval with engraved Texas wildflowers and a steer’s skull in the center. He adjusts and readjusts the buckle so it sits just right below the belly of his tucked shirt. He knows his stomach has gotten a little soft over the years, a long way from when he used to care about having a more trim and toned body. 

But he’s never been self-conscious about it; his body does what it needs to do to get the job done, if not for his damned knees and lower back. But he’s been content with himself, not too bothered. 

Until tonight, that is. 

He shakes it off, nothing to be done about it now. He just hopes she likes her men a little soft in the stomach, but hard where it counts. Besides, if he has it his way, by the end of the night you’ll be craving every inch of him regardless of how he looks.

He finishes up by rolling the sleeves on his shirt to the tops of his forearms. He does know he has nice arms. If construction does anything, it does guarantee that. He figures he should play to his strengths. Not to mention he fucking hates the feeling of tight, buttoned sleeve cuffs around his wrists. 

He checks the time on his watch, muttering a “shit” as he jumps into gear and hurries out the door. 

---

The moment he lays eyes on you, he’s absolutely positive he must be dreaming. There was no way you look as good as you did in your picture—hell, better. 

You did wear a dress. A flouncy little lavender thing that molds to your breasts perfectly while still putting your cleavage on display, making his dry, nervous mouth suddenly feel like a water slide—one he would love for you to ride on. His eyes slip down to where the dress lands a little higher than mid-thigh. Enough to still be decent, but enough to still look plenty indecent. 

When he catches your eye, you light up, and it might be the most breathtaking sight he’s ever witnessed. He jumps up from his seat at the table reserved for the two of you and reaches for your hand to place a light kiss to the back of it. Lips still hovering over your skin he says, “You look absolutely stunning, darlin’. Prettier n’a picture.” He allows you to relinquish your hand and hurries to pull your chair out for you. You give a small giggle at the gesture and offer him a polite thank you as he scoots you in closer to the table. 

Before he can help himself, he dips low by your ear and whispers, “Somehow even prettier than your pictures. I didn’t know that was possible.” You blush slightly at the words and Joel strolls back to his seat across from you. 

“And you are mighty handsome, Joel Miller. I’m very glad that I was right.” 

You glance at the table, taking in the small bouquet of flowers laying on the center of the table. 

“Oh!” Joel hops up again, swiftly picking up the bouquet and rounding the table to offer them properly. “Almost forgot. For you, of course.” He shifts on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, got so distracted with you walkin’ in all…perfect and such.”

You gift him a light laugh in return, pressing the flowers to your nose and inhaling. “They’re beautiful, thank you, Joel.”

Joel nods matter-of-factly, giving you a bit of an awkward smile. “I apologize, my dating skills are a little rusty.”

“You’re just fine,” you say with another small laugh. “I’m gonna go run these to my car, okay? So we’ve got some room on the table.”

“Shit,” Joel mutters, shaking his head, “I’m sorry, I didn’t even think about where you’d have to put ‘em, I just wanted to be polite—”

“Joel,” you gently interrupt as you stand with a delicate hand on his shoulder and the flowers pressed against your chest, “I love them.” You make sure he is making eye contact with you when you deliberately nod reassuringly. 

You smile at him again, sliding your hand down his shoulder to his bicep, squeezing so lightly he’s not entirely sure you actually meant to do it, before letting go and winking at him over your shoulder as you head out to your car. 

Oh, you definitely meant to do it. Joel looks down sheepishly, smiling a little to himself. He feels the tips of his ears heating up. You called him handsome. You squeezed his bicep. You loved the flowers. Fuck, he’s got to shake off this awkwardness. It is not doing him any favors. He stretches his neck from side to side, rubbing it as he takes his seat again. 

The second time you approach the table, you look just as radiant. When he stands again to help you into your seat, you bypass your chair and press a soft hand to his chest. “I can pull out my own chair, but thank you. And thank you for the flowers.” You lean in on your tip-toes and give him a peck on the cheek. Pink rapidly starts to bloom where your lips had been and he tilts his head in gratitude, only retaking his seat once you’ve taken yours. 

Right then the server appears, and you order a white wine. Joel takes that as his cue to finally have that glass of whiskey he’s been yearning for, for about the past three hours. 

As the server leaves, Joel’s brows scrunch together as he looks up at you. “How the hell are you so good at this? I feel like I’m flounderin’ to impress you here.”

You shrug, a smile dancing at your lips once more—god, he could watch that smile for hours and not get bored a single second of it. “You remember I told you that I typically know what I want.”

“I do. And I greatly admire it right about now. Feel like a goddamn fish outta water.”

“So many fish similes,” you tease, taking a sip of your water that had been set with the table. 

“I’m doin’ my best out here,” he sighs, lifting his hands in a helpless gesture. 

“I think the good news is it can only get better from here,” you tease again with a smirk. “I can wade through the awkwardness because I know full well what’s on the other side of it.” Your eyes dip down ostentatiously to what you know sits just below the lip of the table, and then slowly rake back up Joel’s torso to his lips, finally meeting the spark that has ignited in Joel’s own eyes. “Unless you end up being all bark and no bite,” you add with an innocent lilt to your voice. 

Joel feels a low growl travel up his throat. “Oh, I bite.”

The server chooses that moment to deliver your drinks. Joel clears his throat a little, shifting in his seat as he wills the prickling of arousal in his body to subside for the moment. As she sets down your wine, you offer a quiet thank you to the server, then glance again at Joel and respond with a simple, “Good.”

The banter comes easier after that. It seems like neither of you can really help the sexually-charged quips that keep slithering out of each other. In a way, Joel is grateful for it. Sex he’s comfortable with. He can do sex. Romance, not so much. And as much fun as he’s having playing the gentleman with you, he is itching to show you what he truly has to offer. Prove that he is bark and bite. See those perfect tits spill out of that pretty dress like they’ve been fighting to do all throughout dinner. 

When the check arrives, Joel immediately reaches for his wallet. 

“Do I need to do that thing where I pretend like I want to help pay, or can we just skip that?” 

Joel flicks his eyes over to you with raised brows before he slides his card into the black check presenter and hands it to the server with a polite smile and an expression of gratitude. When the server is on her way, Joel lets out a small chuckle and looks back at you. “Oh, you’re gonna pay, darlin’. You’re in charge of dessert.”

You quirk an eyebrow back at him. “Am I now?”

Joel nods, running his thumb back and forth over the rim of his empty whiskey tumbler. “I’m in the mood for somethin’ juicy and sweet. Any ideas?”

Your tongue mindlessly, mesmerizingly caresses the straw in your water. “Something with whipped cream and a cherry on top maybe?”

Joel scoffs, leaning in across the table with a harsh whisper, “I know a goddamn slut like you don’t still got her cherry, but you better believe if you did I’d be popping it tonight while you screamed out my name.”

A wicked smile crosses your face as you adopt an innocent cadence to your voice. “But I do still have my cherry, daddy.”

That goddamn name again. With that goddamn voice to go with it. “Fuuuuck me,” he mutters, desperately wishing he had another whiskey to toss back. But he fully intends on taking you back to his place as soon as the server returns. “You better knock that shit off real quick or this restaurant is ‘bout to get a front-row seat to me spreadin’ open your precious unpopped cherry, little girl.”

You meet him with a determined look of your own, squinting your eyes with a challenge. “You don’t have the guts, old man.”

Joel is about to leap out of his chair when the server cheerily places down the black book and thanks you both for dining before leaving again. Joel snatches his card from the book and shoves it into his wallet before leveling a finger at you. “You need to learn some manners, babygirl. ‘F you agree to follow me to my place, daddy will teach you those manners.”

Your eyes flicker from his pointed finger to his eyes. “I can be very stubborn.”

Joel smirks. “I like ‘em stubborn. Makes it all the sweeter when they finally break for me.”

That line gets you. You swallow. “Fuck.”

Joel scribbles in a generous tip on the receipt, mostly grateful that the server didn’t hover much and left the two of you to flirt awkwardly (in his case) in peace. He gets up and offers you his hand to help you stand. When you take it, he hauls you up close to him as you let out an unexpected gasp. He drifts his mouth to your ear like he had earlier, but this time his words are far less congenial. “Think very carefully about whether you decide to follow me, babygirl. Because I fully intend on fuckin’ ruinin’ you for every other goddamn man who even thinks about this cunt.”

As Joel heads out the front doors and pulls his car out onto the street, he doesn't even look back to see if you’re following. 

He knows you are.

 So far, Joel is fucking perfect. You love how awkward he was trying to impress you. You love how he gradually transitioned into that dominant personality when he became more comfortable. And you love that, when it comes to sex, he seems to be able to read you like a fucking book. 

Like, the man bought you fucking flowers. Come on. Who the hell buys flowers for a first date anymore? 

Maybe a guy who probably did most of his dating in the eighties and nineties, you guess. 

But seriously, how were you not expected to open your legs at the first chance? He’s straight out of a dirty rom-com. The way his sexual banter comes so easy to him, dishing it out as well as he can take it. Threatening to fuck you in the middle of a restaurant. Whispering in your ear how he’s going to destroy you for other men. 

If it turns out he can, you decide, you’re going to fucking let him. 

Joel’s pickup rolls up the driveway of a nice suburban home, on a nice suburban street. You follow suit, pulling up the drive next to him. Before you even have your seatbelt off, Joel is opening your door for you and holding his hand out for yours. 

“Such a gentleman,” you purr playfully, accepting his hand. You’re pretty sure you hear him mutter under his breath, “Not for long.” That makes you smile. He drops your hand in favor of placing his on the small of your back, guiding you up the front steps to the door. 

You almost expect him to jump you the second he unlocks the door, but he doesn’t. Once you’re both over the threshold, he presses the door closed behind him with his back and leans against it, his arms folding across his chest. 

You give him a sultry look, taking one step toward him. Before you can take another step, he holds a finger up, indicating for you to wait. You wait. 

“Now before we do this,” he starts, his voice calm and velvety in the tension-filled air, “I want to make sure I’m not gonna spook ya.”

“I don’t think you’re gonna spook me, daddy.”

His head tilts away the slightest bit at the word, and you see a flex in his jaw. “Regardless. I wanna clarify. Is there anythin’ I said to you during that…text conversation…that you didn’t like?”

Your heart swells a little at his deliberate consideration. It is so rare for a guy to actually make you feel safe and reckless at the same time. “Not a single thing,” you breathe, shaking your head. “Trust me, I’ve read it over about a thousand times at this point.”

You have. You didn’t want to bother him much after it happened, hoping he would make the first move. Instead, you just read the conversation over and over, your eyes lingering over his filthy words as you allowed him to bring you to orgasm two, three, five times over the few days Joel hadn’t reached out, just through his written words. 

Lucky for you, he did make the first move. And now you hope—fear—that he might be getting ready to give you the best night of your life. 

His eyes trace over your face, deciding you were telling the truth. “Well,” he flexes his biceps as they stretch across his chest, and looks down at the hardwood floor for a moment before meeting your eyes once more, “I can get a little intense. I’m a man who likes bein’ in charge, who likes puttin’ little troublemakers like you in their place. I may slap you, I may choke you, I may spank you. That okay with you?”

You nod eagerly. 

“Your face is real pretty, darlin’, but I need you to say it. Let me hear that pretty voice too.”

You clear your throat. “Yes. That’s okay with me.”

Shit is it ever okay with you. You’re not sure you’ve ever been so okay with something. You’ve experimented plenty, tested the waters of more kinks than you can count on both your hands (as well as your toes if we’re being honest). You know exactly how you like to be treated. You already feel yourself shivering the tiniest bit with excitement and possibility. 

“You have a safeword?”

You nod. “Honeysuckle.”

“Alright. You use that word if you need to, for any reason, and we stop. No questions asked. Otherwise, I’m gonna assume everythin’ is fine and I’m gonna keep goin’. Understood?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl,” he rolls off the door at his back and saunters over to you, gripping your chin in his large hand. His thumb catches and drags along your jaw with a callused touch that you think you could quickly get addicted to. As he speaks, you feel his breath ghost over your lips, “We’re gonna have some fun, aren’t we, babygirl?”

Your eyes flutter closed as his nose traces up and down the shell of your ear, completely losing yourself in the sensation of him being near you. 

“Answer me, babygirl,” he orders quietly but firmly into your ear. 

You swallow and nod your head, “Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl.” The combination of his praise and the intimacy of his deep voice floating into your ear has goosebumps shooting across your flesh. “That’s what you call me. Daddy or Sir. Is that clear?”

You quirk up the corner of your mouth. “Not ‘Mr. Miller’?” 

You don’t anticipate the sharp smack that lands on your cheek, whipping your head to the side. You feel the sting immediately after, and you have the insane thought that you want him to do it again. He jerks you back by your chin to look at him, eyes unflinchingly blazing into you. “I’ve already told you once not to call me that. Or were you lyin’ through your teeth about readin’ those texts a thousand times?”

You know you shouldn’t, but you can’t help the smile that spreads on your lips. “I remember, sir,” you reply, testing the new term on your tongue to see how it feels. You like that one too, you decide. 

“Seems like you fuckin’ forgot. I hope, for your sake, you got a better memory goin’ forward.” Your eyes catch Joel flexing his hand at his side, probably shaking out the smart of your face against his palm. “‘N you better wipe that goddamn smile off your face. Little girl’s got a fuckin’ death wish.”

You struggle to rein in your smile, biting into your lower lip. “Yes, sir.”

Joel’s hands find your hips, walking you back until you hit a wall. He inhales deeply into the crook of your neck, shaking his head as he exhales. “Nothin’ but trouble, just like I said.”

“I’m sorry, daddy,” you sigh as Joel’s mouth sucks wet kisses into your neck and down to your collarbone. 

“Not yet you ain’t,” he grumbles into your skin. His hand skates down your thigh, gripping near the back of your knee and hitching it up onto his hip. Your dress raises with it, revealing your lace panties to the open air. The fabric, already flooded with your arousal, chills against your flushed pussy with the new exposure. “But you will be, babygirl.”

You already know how big he is from his picture and video, but when he grinds his crotch against yours, you start to understand how big he really is. A moan falls out of your lips at the thought. 

“Feels awful big, doesn’t it?” 

You whimper in response, his mouth still working its way across your chest and onto the swell of your tits in your dress.

“What do we do if it doesn’t fit?” He proposes as he grinds against you again, hand clutching tight into the flesh of your thigh at his hip. 

“I don’t know, sir,” you pant out. 

Joel chuckles with a darker tone than he has before, and the sound inexplicably has a gush of juices defiling your panties further. He raises his head to curl his tongue at your earlobe and nip it playfully. “We make it fit, babygirl.”

Your head falls back against the wall with a breathy moan, daring to bring your hand up to bury into his hair and tug lightly. Thankfully he groans into your neck at the action. You nod your head, albeit a little shakily. “We’ll make it fit, daddy.”

“Atta girl. Now let me see these pretty tits. Practically burstin’ out this slutty little dress, hmm?” He slides his hand around to your back, finding the zipper and pulling it down. The top of your dress droops down over your waist as you slip your arms out of the straps. A dexterous hand makes fast work of the clasp of your bra, and you allow that to fall too, leaving you naked from the waist up. “Fuck, babygirl.”

Joel’s face immediately drops into your chest, hands squeezing them together to nip and suck at them. “Shit, this is all I been thinkin’ ‘bout all week. These perfect fuckin’ tits.” You gasp as he takes a nipple into his mouth, biting and sucking until it’s hard and stinging while he massages the other in his broad hand. He dutifully mimics his ministrations on your other breast until they are both hard and glistening.

Breathing heavily at your chest, he suddenly pulls away, grabbing your hand and tugging you behind him. “Fuck it, waited long enough,” he mutters, leading you up the stairs and through a door at the top—his bedroom. Your dress falls down your hips on the way and you step out of it hastily along with your heels. 

Joel drags his eyes up and down your body in nothing but your soaked thong as he jerks his shirt out of his pants, making quick work of the buttons and shedding the garment. “Get on your fuckin’ knees.” The order is cold, domineering, and you don’t think twice before obeying. “Fuck, the way those pretty things bounce when you drop to your knees for me. Naughty fuckin’ thing.”

You look up at him with an attempt at innocence, bringing your hands up to play with your tits for him. “Not used to a beautiful, young girl being on her knees for you, daddy? This new for you?”

His eyes burrow into yours, his face stoic as he flips open his belt buckle and unfastens it deftly, sliding it out of the loops and tossing it onto the floor. He raises an eyebrow at you. “I’d think twice about antagonizin’ me like that if I was you. Got you on your knees pretty damn quick, what makes you think you’re the first young, slutty piece of ass I’ve had lookin’ up at me with those big, baleful ‘fuck me’ eyes?”

He cups your chin in his hand, using the other to undo his jeans and pull down the zipper. “You got somethin’ to say, little girl, then say it. ‘Fore you got your mouth full.”

You blink up at him, swallowing the excessive saliva gathering in your mouth at the thought of him filling it. “Nothing, sir.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Nothin’? That smart little mouth always got somethin’ to say, and when I let you speak you got nothin’?”

Your eyes dart away from him as you let out a quiet breath. “I just…,” you shuffle on your knees nervously. “You mentioned you were out of practice, so I thought maybe…”

“Look at me,” he barks out at you, and your eyes hurry back to him. “You look at me when you’re talkin’ to me. You got somethin’ to say, you say it right to my face.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now, when I said I was rusty I meant about the whole datin’, romance thing. But I don’t gotta wine and dine a girl to fuck her.”

“You wined and dined me,” you point out. 

Joel nods. “I did. And now that I think about it,” he removes his hand from your chin to rub at his own, fingers scratching against his beard, “I haven’t heard a thank you for that, have I?”

You play the dinner over in your head, analyzing whether he’s right about that. “I thanked you for the flowers.”

“Didn’t see you eatin’ the flowers though, did I?”

“No, sir,” you reply softly. “Thank you for the dinner.”

Joel strokes your hair gently for a moment, then grips it harshly at the root, jerking your head back so you’re looking at the ceiling. “Open your mouth.”

You do as you’re told, opening your mouth wide. You can’t exactly suck him off from this angle, but you don’t ask questions. 

He doesn’t make you wait long for the answer. Without warning, he leans over you and spits directly into your mouth. Your eyes fly open in shock. You’ve done a lot of things. Yet, for some reason, you have never had a man spit in your mouth. You feel it glide along your tongue and pool at the back of your throat. 

“There’s your dessert, babygirl,” he grunts coldly, “Swallow it and say ‘thank you’.”

Something akin to shame paints your cheeks pink, but you love it. The feeling of degradation has your pussy pulsing in your panties. You make a point to meet his gaze as you swallow down his spit, mixed with your own, and say, “Thank you, daddy.”

He loosens his hold on your hair, stroking it softly again. “That’s a good girl. See? Told you I’d teach ya some manners.”

“Yes, daddy.”

Joel crouches down to your level and palms your cheek, brushing your skin with his thumb. “Good manners get rewards, babygirl. Would you like that?”

You hum as your eyes drift closed at the rhythmic movement of his thumb. “Yes, daddy.”

“Look at me, babygirl,” he prompts, but with softness this time. Your eyes fall open again to stare into his for a moment before he tilts your chin and presses a gentle kiss to your lips. It’s exceedingly chaste in comparison to everything else you’ve done up until this point, which makes the tips of your fingers and toes tingle. 

He deepens the kiss slowly, bringing his other hand to cup around your neck. Not squeezing, but a comforting pressure that has you sinking into his kiss even further. 

“You taste so sweet, babygirl,” he muses, placing a final kiss on the corner of your mouth.

“Thank you for my reward, daddy.”

He nuzzles his nose against yours, “You’re very welcome, baby. Thank you for being a good girl for me.”

You take a deep breath. “Can I…” 

Joel pulls back enough to watch as you speak. “Can you what, babygirl?”

You fiddle with the hem of your panties, but look him in the eyes like he asked. “Can I please suck your cock, daddy?”

Joel’s gaze falls to your lips as he licks his own. “You say ‘please’ so fuckin’ pretty.” He hoists himself back up and finishes pulling his cock and balls out of his underwear and undone jeans. 

Your eyes go wide as you drink him in, his hand wrapped around the width of himself making it look even bigger. He strokes himself leisurely, using the pre-come at the head to lubricate the slide, staring at you with hooded eyes. “What do you think, baby? Not quite so eager when you see how big it really is?”

You shake your head. “I still want it, sir.”

He lets out a laugh. “‘Course you do. Cock hungry little whore.” He taps the leaking head against your bottom lip. You immediately lick the pre-come off in your haste to get just the briefest taste of him, savoring the saltiness on your tongue. “Greedy cumslut. Spit on it.”

You look up at him hesitantly, but he nods down at you. You gather your saliva in your mouth and follow instructions, spitting it onto the head of his cock. Joel groans, stroking himself from tip to base and spreading out your makeshift lubricant.

 He makes you wait for it, makes you watch as he strokes himself at a languid pace. “Bein’ such a good girl for me. So responsive. What are the fuckin’ odds that the person on the other end of my wrong number is a bratty little slut like you? Just my type.”

“I’m very lucky, daddy.”

“Shit, I'm lucky, babygirl. Lucky you were brave enough to push me to talk to you. Lucky you’re such a desperate fuckin’ whore, you get your tits out for every man who gives you the time of day. Isn’t that right, baby?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Say it out loud for me. What are you?”

You bite your lip, affecting a façade of innocence that severely contradicts your words. “I’m a desperate whore.”

“And what should a desperate whore like you do when on her knees in front of a giant cock like this?”

You furrow your brow as you search for the best answer. “Beg?” 

Joel shakes his head, “Not unless I tell you to. Whether you get this cock is not up to you, is it?”

“No, sir.”

“What you do is you shut up and take what you’re given.”

You nod in response, not wanting to speak unless he asks you to after that instruction. He places his hand at the back of your head as he moves closer toward you.

“Now, open nice and wide for daddy.” 

A whimper slips out as you drop your jaw and stick out your tongue for him.

Joel starts by rubbing the head of his cock along the length of your tongue, letting every inch, every taste bud get its fill of him. He is thick and heavy on your tongue, already stretching your mouth to accommodate him. You can’t help moaning around him as he dominates your mouth.

“Very good. Now keep that tongue out,” He instructs as he pushes further in, not stopping until he hits the back of your throat. You reflexively gag against him, your jaw protesting against the size of him, but you stay steady. His hand on your hair digs in tighter, ensuring you stay still as he fucks in and out and taps at the back of your throat repeatedly. Your reaction to the intrusion tampers as he goes, allowing him to take you faster, rougher. 

Tears well and break free from the corners of your eyes and your nose starts to run at the relentless onslaught of his cock aggressively claiming your mouth. Joel’s grunts and groans mesh with the wet, sinful sound of your gagging as you relax your jaw and give it over to him to just take. 

“Good fuckin’ girl. Knew a slutty, cock-starved bitch like you would take this dick like a champ.” He pulls out and you cough, saliva running thick between your lips and his cock. “Look at you, darlin’,” he smacks his cock against the side of your face, then the other side, then your dripping lips, “Fuckin’ pathetic.”

You just open your mouth for him again.

“That’s right. Open right back up for me.” He begins to fucks your mouth punishingly, bringing a hand to your chin and smearing your spit wherever he can reach on your face. “Such a fuckin’ mess.”

He eases up again, using the head of his cock to spread more of your spit across your skin. He guides you with a firm hand down below his dick until you’re level with his balls “Suck.”

You waste no time mouthing wetly at them, sucking each ball into your mouth and laving over them with your tongue. Joel’s moans grow louder as he strokes his cock above you. “Just like that, yes baby. Such a filthy mouth on you. So much more useful–fuck–when it’s filled up.” You hum around him, glowing with pride at his small break in composure.

“Alright, babygirl, that’s enough. Gonna make me fuckin’ come already,” He grunts out, pulling your mouth from between his legs. He grips your upper arm and helps you stand. Your knees twinge from the sting of the carpet rubbing into them and your jaw aches from the stretch, but your hormones are soaring and your pussy is practically vibrating with how hard it’s throbbing.

You let him lead you where he wants you, which happens to be in front of a full-body mirror hanging on the wall. You take in your nearly naked form in the reflection, watching as Joel wraps his hands around your waist and hooks his chin over your shoulder.

“I want you to see what I reduce you to when you’re with me. See how fuckin’ wrecked you are just from me fucking one of your holes. Look.”

You definitely see it, that’s for sure. You take in your blown-out pupils, your puffy red lips, your watery eyes, and your tangled hair. A mixture of tears, snot, and saliva coats your flushed cheeks and thoroughly fucked features.

You look used. Taken. 

Ruined.

“You see it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Remember it.”

You nod at him in the mirror.

Joel’s hand travels south as he locks eyes with you in the reflection. He toys with the band of your panties, then slips his hand inside. Your eyes follow his hand hungrily.

“Look at me,” He orders. You return to his heated gaze, forcing yourself to hold it as he dips a finger between your folds for the first time. You have to fight your body’s will to roll your eyes into the back of your head at the unbelievable zap of pleasure that comes from finally being touched. You fear if you disobey his orders he’ll stop, and you think you’d actually rather die than cause that to happen.

His finger traces lazy circles around your entrance, sliding around with far too much ease. “Shit, babygirl. You could swim in these fuckin’ panties they’re so wet. Filthy fuckin’ girl, gettin’ off gaggin’ on this dick.” He slides in with zero resistance, pulling a moan from your raw throat. “This cunt is screamin’ that she’s ready for my cock, isn’t she?”

Another pitiful moan vibrates your lips as he adds a second finger, spreading them inside as he fucks you. Your clit feels like it’s straining for his attention as it goes neglected, but you don’t dare speak. You simply melt into his avaricious eyes as he winds you up around his fingers.

Your hips jut forward in search of even an ounce more of pressure as you whine, shamelessly seeking relief as your orgasm begins to spiral without him so much as bumping into your clit. Joel tuts in your ear and removes his fingers at your actions and you groan loudly. 

“Now, now, don’t get greedy, babygirl.”

“Please, daddy,” You sob, grabbing at his arm that’s now resting on your stomach, fingers still wet with your juices. “Don’t stop. I’ll do whatever you want, just please don’t stop.”

Joel chuckles in your ear, extracting his arm from your grip. “Oh, darlin’. Unless you safeword, you’re gonna do whatever I want regardless. Not much leverage there.” 

As much as you hate to admit it, you know he’s right. You would do just about anything this man asked you to do at this point. He has you feeling so safe, so seen, that your safeword is far from the front of your mind. Still logged away in case you need it, but laying blissfully dormant in a corner of your brain. You’re as wrapped around his finger as your pussy was moments ago. You don’t know what this man is made of, but it’s intoxicating your senses, bending your will to his like some ethereal elixir trickling down your throat and seeping in through your skin.

He taps his two glistening fingers at your lips. “Clean up your mess.”

You oblige, sucking the digits into your mouth and enthusiastically licking them clean of yourself. He pulls them out with a pop and uses his spit-slick hand to play with your tit, squeezing the flesh and pinching at the nipple. “You let me play with you like a little doll, don’t you, baby? My little fuckdoll.” Then his hand is gliding up your chest and around your neck again. He presses in on the sides of your windpipe just enough to hinder your air supply. “Are you on birth control, babygirl?”

Your brain wades through the fog clouding your thoughts from the pleasurable thrill of the suppression of oxygen. You manage a nod.

“That’s good,” He mumbles into your neck, sucking and scraping his teeth and clearly not caring about leaving marks on you. You know you should probably be concerned with the state of your neck tomorrow, but you truly cannot bring yourself to give a fuck. Particularly so when he continues his thought. “Because I intend to shoot my load so deep inside this pussy that you taste it on your tongue.”

Your head drops back in a loud moan, “Yes, please, daddy!”

He tightens his hand on your neck, your brain going hazy again. “Listen to you, beggin’ for this come. Probably let anyone with a cock bust their nut in that fucked out hole. Dirty fuckin’ slut. Wouldn’t be surprised if you feel so wet ‘cause you got another man’s load in there right now. Hmm?”

The humiliation at his words has your whole body burning hot. You take a grateful gulp of air as he slackens his grasp on your throat. “Don’t let anyone come inside me, daddy! Only you!”

“You’re goddamn fuckin’ right only me,” He growls, delivering a hard smack to your pussy over your panties. “This?” He cups a hand over your crotch and digs his fingers in, “is fucking mine.”

You nod frantically, “Yes, daddy! All yours, I promise!”

At last, Joel releases you, spins you around, and shoves you in the direction of the bed. “On your back. Wanna watch your soul leave your body when I stretch you open for the first time.”

You scramble onto his bed, crawling to the top and plopping yourself among his pillows. Joel strips off what remains of his clothing, and you can’t take your eyes off of him. Seeing him fully naked has your cheeks going hot and your brain working overtime. You allow yourself a moment to take him in and admire just how truly sexy this man is. His scruffy beard, the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes, the enviably plush lips. Your eyes roam down his strong, broad chest to his soft belly, looking absolutely delectable. You want to bury yourself in that tummy, kissing it and biting it and laying your head down on it after. 

His thick, sturdy thighs frame that beautiful, massive cock. You want your mouth on every goddamn inch of him at once. 

Joel clears his throat under your awed stare. When glance back up to his face, you could swear his expression goes momentarily bashful. “Like what you see, darlin’?”

“Very, very much, sir.”

“Feelin’s mutual, babygirl.” He crawls up the bed after you, hovering over your sensitive body. You know it's probably in your head, but you almost feel a staticky sensation flowing between the two of you as he glares at you hungrily. He sits back onto his calves and flattens his hands against the top of each thigh, inching them achingly slow toward your panties. He hooks a finger under the hem at both hips and tugs them down at a frustrating pace, clearly enjoying every moment of your desperation. 

Your body starts getting fidgety. “Please just take them off,” You whisper hastily, hopefully quiet enough that he doesn’t hear, but of course he does. 

He raises an eyebrow at you and pauses, leaving your thong in place halfway down your calves. “Are we not bein’ patient, baby?”

You bite your lip, your fingers clutching absentmindedly at his duvet. “I think I’ve been very patient, daddy. Just want you. It’s a compliment.”

That elicits a little smile from him. “Is that so? You think that’s how this works?” You shrug sheepishly. “Who’s in charge here, little girl?” 

“‘You…”

He tilts his head in a manner that feels oddly threatening. “And who here decides whether you even get fucked at all?”

You whine, admittedly a little childishly, “Daddy, please–”

You hear the slap before you see or even feel it. This one was harder than the last one. The impact has your head swinging sharply to the side, followed by the ignition of a thousand fiery pinpricks where the smack landed on your face. You exhale a breathy gasp at the sheer force of it as tears well involuntarily at your waterline. A warm hand puts pressure on your smarting cheek, thumb stroking soothingly at the rapidly blooming pain. When he speaks, his voice is low and admonishing, but with an undertone of compassion. “Do not whine at me like a bratty child. Especially when I am asking you a specific question that I expect you to answer. Understood?”

You nod as you scrunch closed your eyes to rid yourself of the tears. “Yes, daddy. I’m sorry.”

Joel brushes his thumb up below your eye where a tear has escaped, wiping up what he can. He locks eyes with you as he brings the finger to his mouth and wraps his lips around it, sucking off the salty evidence of your distress. 

Something like that from anyone else in the world, you think, would come off as truly unhinged. But because it’s Joel, the act just serves to arouse you more. Him getting off on your humiliation, your pain, your suffering. Every issuance of degradation, purely for his own twisted pleasure.

It’s so fucking hot.

The way he masterfully seems to manipulate the levity of each moment since you entered his home–taking, then giving, then taking again–has the synapses in your brain firing at each other. The exhilaration of never knowing what he’s going to do next has your body in a near-permanent state of stimulation. It makes you want to poke and prod at him but humbles you enough to pick and choose your battles with him.

Joel rids you fully of your panties after that, flinging them somewhere behind him. “Are we happy now? Finally gettin’ what you want,” he grunts. He wedges his hands at the back of your thighs and lifts, pushing your knees up by your ears. “Hold yourself open for me. Let me see what’s mine.”

Your body shudders at the rush of air between your legs and the anticipation of getting his cock inside you after what feels like a million years of waiting. You take over his grip on your legs, hooking your hands around the backs of your knees. Maybe you should be ashamed of how open you are for him like this, but the sick thrill of depravity ebbs away any disgrace. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel groans in wonderment as lays on his stomach with his face at your folds, spreading your lips lewdly with his fingers. “Perfect fuckin’ tits, perfect fuckin’ pussy.” You do your best to crane your head forward to watch as his head dips low, licking a firm stripe up the whole center of your cunt. You jolt reflexively toward his mouth for more. Just that one lick has your legs shaking in your hands and your clit burning with the desire for release.

Joel lays a single wet kiss to your clit, sucking for barely a second before pushing himself back up onto his knees and crawling over you again. His mouth shines with your wetness and a mischievous smile. “You ready for me to pop this cherry, pretty girl?”

You can’t help but laugh a little deliriously. Partly with unbridled horniness, partly with the utter absurdity of the false notion that you could possibly still have your virginity, particularly with the juxtaposition of the debauchery the two of you have committed in this room already. You do, however, love the little callback to your earlier dinner banter.

“I’m so ready, daddy.”

“You sure? It’s gonna hurt.”

“I want it to hurt,” You whisper.

“Shit,” He mutters in response. He takes his cock in his hand and you feel the blunt head of him press at your entrance. Once again, you’re forced to come to terms with how huge he is in comparison to your hole. You expected him to maybe stretch you more with his fingers first, try and make the initial intrusion a little easier. Then again, you’re not at all surprised he doesn’t. Joel’s sadistic streak has already poked its head out a couple times tonight, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t scratch a correspondingly masochistic itch of your own.

“Daddy, it’s too big,” You whimper as Joel teases at your dripping hole.

Joel nuzzles along your ear. “Now, baby, remember what we said earlier?” 

You turn your head toward his, your noses brushing lightly and your breath mingling together warmly. You nod. You reply in a small voice, “We make it fit.”

“That’s right, babygirl.”

And Joel pushes in.

The initial shock of pain has the breath whooshing out of your lungs, punctuated by a high-pitched moan. The pain rapidly dissolves into pleasure as Joel continues to roll his hips steadily into you, inch by inch. Joel grunts through clenched teeth, “Such a tight cunt for such a filthy whore. There you go, baby. You wanted this cock so bad, fuckin’ take it.”

All you can do is moan as your hands slip from behind your knees to wrap your legs around his waist. You’re flooded with relief when Joel permits the shift, continuing to rock his hips gradually until he’s bottomed out inside of you. 

“Shit, that’s so fucking big.”

“I know, baby,” Joel placates as he pins your wrists above your head with one big hand. “Just take it like a good girl.”

Joel begins a brutal pace, pulling out to the head and snapping his hips into you with increasing speed. Your heels dig into his ass, silently begging for him to give you as much as he possibly can. 

“How’s it feel babygirl?”

Your breath comes out in spurts as you try your best to answer, “S-s-so fu-cking good! F-f-fucking in-in-credible!”

“Splittin’ you right fuckin’ open, isn’t it, baby? Suckin’ it right up this fuckin’ cunt.”

“Y-yes daddy!”

A hand comes up to squeeze at your throat, and your eyes start to roll at the heady sensation. The lack of air intensifies the rhythmic pounding of Joel’s cock inside your pussy, a floaty feeling trickling through every vein. 

“Pretty little thing, lettin’ yourself get used by a dirty old man like me. Spreadin’ these fuckin’ legs like I’m payin’ you for it.” Joel pulls out swiftly, flipping you over onto your stomach and yanking your ass in the air as if you were a ragdoll. His hand comes back around to grip your throat lightly as he shoves himself back inside in one thrust, settling back into that grueling pace. This position has his hips smacking into your ass on every thrust, the sound ringing filthy and wicked around the room.

“There we go, takin’ it from behind like a real whore now, huh?” He releases his hold on your neck as he gathers your hair like a ponytail into his fist, jerking your head back and using his grip on it like a handlebar, holding you in place as he wrecks your hole. 

This angle has Joel hitting impossibly deep inside of you, and your pussy is screaming for attention. You’re pretty sure all Joel has to do is brush your clit and you’ll be coming all over him. As if he can read your thoughts, Joel mercifully drops a hand between your legs and starts rubbing circles around your clit. “Come on, babygirl, I know you’re close. Been close all fuckin’ night, huh?”

“Yes, daddy, please!” You sob, greedily rocking your hips into his hand as your orgasm burns heavy in your stomach. The hand in your hair releases in favor of curling it under your shoulder, hauling you deeper onto his dick.

“Come for me, baby, come on this cock.” His permission has the band inside you snapping completely, throwing your head back with a garbled mess of “thank you”s and “daddy”s and “sir”s, your legs shaking violently below you. Little pulses of lightning sizzle along your skin as your release runs its course, leaving you boneless and thoroughly sated.

Joel continues to fuck into you roughly, both hands clutching at your hips. “That’s a good girl, let daddy use this sweet cunt to get himself off. Just like that.” A hand comes down hard on your ass, making you jolt forward, but you’re too exhausted to let out more than a squeak. “Fuck, daddy’s close, baby,” He groans out, smacking your ass again to feel you squeeze around him. 

Joel’s movement become erratic as he approaches his own release, grunting to punctuate each thrust. “Gonna flood this fuckin’ pussy with my come. Fuckin’...take…it…” he growls out as his own orgasm finally hits, slamming in all the way to shoot his come as deep inside you as possible with a loud, primal moan. He drops down onto your back to breathe heavily in your ear as his cock softens slowly. “Good…girl…” he pants out as he strokes the back of your head affectionately.

He rolls off of you gently, and you immediately feel the loss of his cock from your aching pussy. You have half a mind to beg him to just put it back in again to fill the void. Instead, Joel coaxes you to lay your head on his chest as he envelops you in his arms, scratching lightly at your back in a way that has you melting into his body. He uses his other hand to intertwine his fingers with yours and inhales deeply into your hair. 

The two of you lay in companionable silence as you come down from your highs. Joel is warm and soft beneath you, smelling of cologne and sweat and sandalwood. You vaguely feel a trickling sensation between your legs as Joel’s come starts to slowly flow out of you onto your thighs and the bed beneath you. You let it happen, getting secret pleasure from being coated in whatever Joel saw fit to give you.

Joel is the first to break the silence.

“How’re you feelin’, darlin’?”

“Pretty sure I can honestly say I’ve never been better,” You admit.

He presses a long kiss onto your head. “You did so good for me.”

You smile broadly into his chest, placing a little kiss of your own there. “I fucking hate that you were right.”

“About what, darlin’?”

You look up at him, taking in his furrowed brow and adorably sex-tousled hair. You heave a great sigh and crane your neck to plant another kiss on his jaw. “You’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

You see Joel fighting against a smile on his lips. “Sorry about that. I did warn you.”

“That you did. But as you now know, I don’t listen very well.”

“Nah, you just need a bit of a firm hand. And I don’t mind givin’ that to ya.”

“I don’t mind receiving it.”

Joel smiles fully now, tightening his hold on you. “I think I would count this as a successful first date.”

“Very successful, I’d say. Not sure how we top this one.”

“I mean…” Joel trails off, as if deciding whether he should continue his thought, but ultimately does. “You do have one hole I haven’t claimed yet.”

His words have your heart racing in your chest and the traitor between your legs heating up again when it definitely shouldn’t. “Fuck.”

Joel chuckles darkly, burying his face in your hair again. “Just food for thought.”

Next Part

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[joelmillerisapunk]

Beach Daddy IV. Got Me Feeling Vertigo

Rich bfd!Joel Miller x f!reader

Series Masterlist • Masterlist

Wordcount: 11,847

Summary: The weight of your secrets and the impending danger from Todd threaten to tear you apart. Will you find the courage to confess your feelings to Joel, or will you let fear and deceit ruin your chance at love?

Warnings: 18+, this ones just back on its drama - boo Todd 👿 yay Joel 😘, tis fluffy, we meet Marnie (Sarah's mom), more on Blaine. Just Joel being the hard-headed but southern gentleman he is.

Notes: hiiiii! I hope you enjoy! Happy May 💐 Comments and reblogs and thoughts are always appreciated ilysm for reading these mammoth chapters and sticking it out. Ty @saradika-graphics for the divider

“Get your ass to bed before I throw you off my ship."

You fumble for the doorknob at your back, and the door swings open behind you, almost causing you to trip backward inside. Joel follows you into the room a few seconds later, leaving Todd out in the hall. You think it's probably for the best because Joel looks like he really might throw Todd over the side of the ship.

Joel locks the door behind him. You make your way to the bed and sit down, trying to catch your breath. You feel safer with Joel here. He comes over to you and places his hands on each side of your face looking into your eyes. Worry swims in his, and you nearly pull his mouth to yours.

“Did he hurt you? You have to tell me if he hurt you."

“I'm fine, really. I'm just a little shaken up, but I’ll be okay."

He continues to hold your face in his hands as if he's inspecting it to reassure himself that you're not hurt. You have to keep your eyes focused on him so they don't drift down to his perfect lips. Joel leans in closer, and you close your eyes, waiting - 

Cool air hits your cheeks, replacing the warmth where Joel's hands had been. Your eyes burst open, and Joel's back is to you as he makes his way to the sofa. Heat burns through your entire body, and you wish Joel  hadn't pulled away. 

“I need you to tell me the truth."

“What do you mean?" You ask, still breathless.

“I saw your face when that piece of cheesecake with the engagement ring was set in front of you. You weren't surprised; you looked almost heartbroken. Then at dinner tonight, Todd said something that made it sound like he’s known you for a lot longer than just this week. Then, I came up here to check on you, and he has you cornered."

“Joel, he was just drunk. I don't think he knew what he was doing," you say, looking down at your feet.

“Is he the reason you wanted to leave?" Joel asks bluntly. You can't  understand his anger. Is it possible that he's jealous of Todd?

“Not him specifically," you say, quickly bending the truth. “A lot of the group makes me feel like I don't belong. I don't come from money like the rest of them, and it's very obvious to me that I don't fit in with them."

In all actuality, you do feel like the odd one out a lot of the time. You imagine it feels similar to following an older sibling and their friends around. No one really wants you to come, but they put up with you so they won't get in trouble. It is, however, still a lie about the reason you wanted to leave.

Joel looks at you with a hint of sympathy in his eyes. “I didn't know you felt that way."

“I don't feel that way when I'm with you. Sometimes it feels like you’re the only one who wants me on this ship." You make your way across the room to sit on the sofa opposite him.

“I do want you here," Joel says softly.

You think back to the maid, Charlotte, talking about how Marnie had run off all of the women that ever got serious with Joel. You realise that he isn’t the playboy Sarah always makes him out to be. It isn't his intention that none of the women he's ever dated have not stayed around for long.

“I came up here to make sure you were feeling alright."

“I’m feeling a lot better," you say, feeling guilty about getting out of dinner with an excuse of being seasick. It felt like the best option, though, since you were apparently a topic of conversation at dinner. You wonder what Todd said about you to Joel but know it's best not to ask, or he’ll start asking questions you don't want to answer.

“Did you get anything to eat?"

“No, I didn't want to bug anyone."

You think back to the few handfuls of popcorn you ate while playing cards. You could definitely use something more substantial. Joel stands and walks to the intercom on the wall of your room.

“Can you please send some dinner up and a whiskey for me?"

—

“Is there anything else I can get you, sir?" Brenna says as she sets down the tray on the coffee table between Joel and you. She turns and winks at you, and you try your best to hide a smile.

“No, that's everything. Thank you, Brenna; I know it's late."

“I was up anyway, sir, and the night chef was in the kitchen making preparations for tomorrow, so it was really no trouble." Brenna turns and walks out the door, clicking it closed behind her. 

“I like that you call all of your staff by name," you say, impressed that he cares so much about his staff despite his wealth.

“One of the few valuable things I learned from my father was to respect the people who work for you. Without them, I wouldn't be able to do the work that I do or enjoy my limited free time. My father always made it a point to call each employee by their name. In that way alone, I followed in his footsteps."

Joel takes the cover off of your plate for you. It's a bowl of chicken pesto pasta and a side of garlic bread. The smell of the garlic hits your nose instantly, and you can feel your stomach urging you to grab the plate.

“Your father sounds like he was a very harsh man?" You ask, hoping you're not overstepping. You grab the bowl of pasta off the tray and take a bite. The cheese melts in your mouth perfectly, complemented by the pesto.

“He was very harsh, and strict. He had high expectations for me, and he made it known when I disappointed him."

“That must have been hard."

“It was, but it made me who I am today. I don't take the wealth, or the work it takes to maintain it, for granted. But I do try to be a kinder man than he was."

You stay quiet and work on the rest of your pasta, slowly savoring each bite. You know Joel will probably leave as soon as you're done, so you take your time.

“I forgot to tell you I got in contact with a law firm I've worked with in the past. They would like to bring you in for an interview for a secretary position."

You nearly drop your fork. “Are you serious?"

Joel smiles at your response. He nods  and takes a swig from his whiskey glass. “I'll get you their information. They're ready to bring you in as soon as you get settled."

“I can't thank you enough, Joel. You don't understand how life-changing this is for me," you say, setting down the bowl of pasta on the table. You wish you could stand up and hug him.

“I'm just glad you decided to stay. You are the only one making this trip bearable," Joel says, meeting your eyes. The look in his eyes makes your heart flutter.

A loud vibration against the leather of the sofa breaks the moment, and Joel pulls out his phone. His face falls as soon as he reads the notification on his home screen. “I’m so sorry but I have something I have to deal with. I'm glad to see that you’re feeling better, darlin. If you need anything, let me know."

You stand. “Thank you for everything, Joel, truly everything."

He smiles and quickly makes his way to the door without looking back and closes the door behind him. The room suddenly feels empty with Joel gone. You slump back onto the leather sofa and grab the garlic bread off the plate, dipping it in the remaining pesto at the bottom of your bowl. 

Your phone screen illuminates the dark corner where your bed sits, so you hesitantly get up to check your notifications. At the top are a few messages in the group text between your friends, and just below that is a friend request from Joel. You smile to yourself and accept it, then open your group chat.

Lin: What amazing thing did you get to do today? I am bored of packing for the move. I need to live vicariously through you.

Aubrey: Lin, keep packing you only have a few more weeks. 

Lin: Don't sound too sad to have us go, lol!

Aubrey: You know I am going to miss you two like crazy, but I know you will panic pack at the last minute and forget half your underwear drawer. I am not shipping your panties to you, Lin!

Lin: You know me too well, Aubs.

You: I love that every time I check my phone, I have messages like these! Nothing exciting today. We have been at sea all day on our way to Sarah's dad's mansion in the Bahamas. I went down to the employee's quarters and played cards and got a lot of dirt on Sarah’s mom.

Lin: Okay, I'm going to need pictures of this Bahama's Mansion and details on her mom!

You: Sarah's mom left her dad for another man because she thought it would help her climb the social ladder. Turned out he wasn't as rich or well off socially as she thought, and when he died, she did a paternity test, and here we are.

You: We are going to her dad's mansion for Sarah and Todd's engagement party…

Lin: It sounds like Sarah is the spitting image of her mother.

Aubrey: Not only did you have to witness their engagement, but now you have to go to their engagement party too?

Lin: I swear, you have the absolute worst luck on the planet.

You: You don't even know the half of my bad luck on this trip.

Lin: What do you mean? What else has happened?

You: Well, I don't really fit in with the rest of the group.

Aubrey: But I thought you said you were making other friends? Joel right?

You: I am.

Lin: So, what do you mean by bad luck?

You: Joel is Sarah's dad.

Aubrey: Why is that a problem? I have a lot of friends in my classes who are like double my age.

You: It's a problem because I'm falling for him. Absolutely head over heels falling for him.

—

Once in the hall, Joel opens the text message that interrupted his conversations with you

Lucille: Do you know someone named Blaine?

That simple sentence makes his stomach drop. He was now contacting family members. Joel makes his way back to the privacy of his office for the second time in the same night. He closes the door behind him before dialing his cousin Lucille's number.

“Joel, I am so glad you called me. I just had the strangest conversation with someone named Blaine. I was just getting out of the bath when I got a call from an unknown number. Now, usually I don't answer the phone if I don't know the number, but I gave my information to this adorable man at the coffee shop earlier today, so I figured it was him."

“Lucille, this is important; I need you to tell me exactly what Blaine said to you." He has to keep Lucille focused on the topic, she's always been a talker, but at this moment, he can't politely listen to all of her stories in their excruciating detail.

“Oh, right, the call from Blaine! He told me I needed to meet his demands or else."

“What were his demands?"

“He wants me to send half a million dollars in a box to an address in New Jersey. I'm sure it's just one of those scam callers that has nothing better to do with their life."

“Lucille, if you thought it was a scam, then why did you ask me if I knew him?"

“Well, that's what I found so strange. He knew all about our family tree and how we are related. I just thought it was a little more information than scammers normally have. However, who knows? With the Internet, I'm sure people can find out all kinds of information about our family. We aren't exactly flying under the radar - Oh! Did you see that latest news article in the paper? Apparently, you are about to agree to an arranged marriage to the Princess of Thailand."

“Lucille, I'm afraid this isn't a scam. But the arranged marriage definitely isn't true. Have you left your house since you got this call?"

“No, why? Joel, you're making me nervous."

“Okay, don't leave your house. I'm sending some of my security team over there now. Do not open the door for anyone else."

“What should I do about Blaine's demands?"

“Just ignore it."

“Joel, who is it we’re dealing with?" Lucille asks. She’s clearly nervous now.

“You don't have to deal with anyone, Lucille, I promise. I will take care of everything. Don't answer any unknown numbers, and do not go anywhere without one of my men with you. I will get this figured out."

“Okay, Joel. Just be careful."

“I will be. Call me if you need anything."

He hangs up the phone and slams his palm against his desk, even though he wants to punch something instead. He allows himself a few seconds of anger before picking up his phone again and calling his head of security.

“Hello?" a burly voice sounds on the other end of the phone call.

“Bruce, I need you to send two men over to my cousin Lucille's home in the West Village. Her address should be listed in her file."

“Of course, sir. Has there been an incident?"

“A man named Blaine Blake. He’s blackmailing Lucille at the moment. I’m not sure what he’s capable of, but he is a threat to the entire family. I need your best men on this."

“Two men are already on their way to your cousin's, sir. Do I need to send a team to you?"

He knew he hired Bruce for a reason. He’s extremely efficient and always one step ahead of everyone else. He’s exactly who he needs to help him take care of Blaine.

“No need quite yet, but I'll keep you posted. Oh, and Bruce?"

“Yes, sir?"

“Keep your ear to the ground, and let me know anything you find out about this Blaine Blake. Any information that you find needs to be kept under wraps."

“On it, sir. Everything will be done with the utmost secrecy."

“Thank you, Bruce. Have a good evening."

Joel hangs up the phone and sets it on his large oak desk. Unconsciously, he's been pacing around his office while on the phone. He slumps himself down into his leather armchair and swivels it around so he can watch the ocean. It's so dark, it's hard to differentiate the water from the sky.

He should have known he would hear from Blaine eventually. He first found out about his existence after his parents' death when he was seventeen. His father's will had very bluntly stated that Blaine was to receive nothing. Joel had no idea that he had a half-brother out there in the world until after his dad was gone and couldn't explain the situation for himself. Joel was left spending the rest of his early adult life piecing the clues together. His parents' constant fighting and lack of affection for each other made complete sense as soon as he knew that his father's infidelity was likely the cause. He ripped apart his father's office, trying to find any clues about his hidden life. The only thing he found was a check register, showing he had paid a woman named Anne Blake - one hundred thousand dollars. He had no illusions about his father, he knew exactly what he'd done. 

His father kept detailed records of every dime he ever spent; the lack of information on the check register told him everything he needed. The hundred thousand dollars was hush money, and the woman, Anne Blake, had to be his father's mistress. He searched for years to find Anne Blake, but her name was so common, it was impossible to narrow down his search enough to find the right woman. He had no other information to go off of, and was left with a million unanswered questions. It wasn't until he found out he was Sarah's father that he had a hope of finding his brother. Sarah had taken a DNA test that linked her to other Miller's who had their DNA in the same database. Joel took the same DNA test and waited for a notification that he had a sibling match in the database. Last year, that notification finally came, but after some digging into his brother Blaine Blake's history, he wished he'd never known about him. More importantly, he wished he didn't know at all. Blaine's criminal record was far from clean, with multiple charges of petty theft and blackmail. It wasn't long after that, that the threats started coming in. At first, it was easy to shake the threats off, and Joel simply ignored all of them. In the last month, Blaine must have gotten desperate because his attempts at blackmail were getting increasingly threatening.

So far, he even avoided telling his security team about the threats, but now he's threatening Joel's family. He knows Bruce will get to the bottom of the problem, but he'll likely find out about all of his family's dirty laundry in the process.

Joel runs his hands up his face and through his hair. Leaning back, he stares at the ceiling. He knows he’ll never be able to sleep after the events of the last few hours, so he turns back around to his desk and opens his laptop. Might as well get some work done if he's going to be up anyway.

A notification greets him as the screen flashes to life. You accepted his friend request. At that, he can't help but smile, just a little. There's something about you that makes it impossible for Joel to get you out of his head. He's immediately distracted by the memory of you riding on the back of the jet ski to find the dolphins. Thinking of that day, he can almost feel your body pressed against his back and how your face lit up when the dolphins swam into the cove. That night when you walked out of the salon in the dress he mentioned would look good on you; you nearly knocked him senseless. You felt beautiful and he could see it on your face.

He realises sitting there alone in his office, he would give anything to make you feel that way all the time. There's no point in denying it any further, he's falling for you. If you were anyone other than Sarah's friend, he'd pursue you without a second thought. But, the last thing he needs is to complicate his relationship with his daughter even more. It doesn't help that his daughter is so clueless as to be cruel to the one person she invites that could actually help her grow into a decent person.

The screen of his phone alerts him to another incoming text message.

Marnie: I need a plane ticket to the Bahamas. It was bad enough that I had to hear about my daughter's engagement over the phone. I refuse to miss her engagement party too. So we will also need to push the party back so I can be there.

A few seconds later, another message follows the first.

Marnie: Also, we need to start discussing the wedding plans. Sarah's wedding needs to be absolutely perfect. We can talk about the details later. Send the flight information as soon as possible.

Joel opens the drawer of his desk and slides his phone inside. He is not in the mood to deal with Marnie and her demands. He knows deep down that Sarah is becoming more and more like her mother each and every day. A part of him is excited about Sarah's wedding for the simple fact that she’ll be another man's problem. He immediately feels bad for thinking that of his own daughter, but it seems she only cares about his money. Thinking about Sarah's upcoming wedding brings a new wave of memories rushing in. Embarrassment floods his veins as he thinks about the conversation he had with his daughter over dinner. She said that you didn't fit the aesthetic of her wedding, so she wouldn't ask you to be a bridesmaid. He couldn't understand that. But if Sarah won't have you at the wedding as a bridesmaid, maybe he'll just bring you as his date.

—

The last thing you want to do is run into Todd, especially after his actions the night before; you think it would be wise to avoid him completely. Book in hand, you head to the secret deck off of the dining room balcony, where you had shared a few quiet moments with Joel. You figure it would be the best place for you to hide out and also possibly run into Joel again. He left in such a rush the night before, you’re curious to find out what happened. You check down the hallway before speed walking to the dining room. As soon as your hand hits the doorknob, Sarah's voice sounds behind you.

"I have been looking for you everywhere!"

You turn around quickly, and you’re relieved to see that Sarah is alone. She’s wearing a one-piece swimming suit in navy blue with the bust line cutting down to her belly button. She has a white sun hat and a pair of Chanel sunglasses to complete her beachwear.

"Sarah," you say with a smile.

"Come with me down to the beach. I am so bored, and I can't stand being on this boat for another second," she says with an overly dramatic sigh.

"I thought we were heading to your dad's place and wouldn't get there until tonight." You turn and look out the dining room windows. You’re surprised you hadn't noticed earlier that you aren't moving.

"Daddy said we had to stop to refuel. He is also giving some of the crew their half-day break so they can go on land and contact family or something stupid like that," Sarah says with a roll of her eyes.

"Oh," you say, slightly irritated at Sarah's insensitivity. "Well, a half-day isn't that bad."

"It is when you have an engagement party to plan. Plus, daddy told me that my mom is flying out for the party. She is going to be waiting at the house while we sit here all day."

The thought of meeting Marnie makes you slightly nervous. Maybe because you’re worried she’ll be able to tell you have feelings for Joel. You can't let Sarah catch you in a daydream about her dad, so you shift the conversation as quickly as possible.

"Where is everyone else?"

"Everyone has a hangover. Todd started a drinking game last night, and everyone had a little too much."

Well, that makes a lot of the previous night make more sense. Todd is never one to handle his alcohol very well, and he’s even worse at games. You’re curious as to just how many drinks made Todd forget himself the way he did last night. He was not waiting long into the engagement to show his true colors.

"How are you not hung over?" you ask, looking her up and down. She doesn't look like she was drinking the night before at all. As always, she looks absolutely flawless.

"The bartenders know to give me water instead of an actual shot. I hate the way I get bags under my eyes when I drink too much. It’ss much better to stay hydrated than look hungover."

"Right. Well, I was just going to go find somewhere quiet to read, but reading on the beach sounds a lot more fun."

"Great! I can wait for you to go get ready," Sarah says, looking at your outfit.

"I am ready, Sarah."

"Oh, you look…cute. Anyway, let's go!"

You follow Sarah out on the dock and quickly realize it will not be a simple morning on the beach.

A few members of staff have set up a large tan beach canopy surrounded by white gauzy curtains. In the center is a pair of chaise lounge chairs made of rattan and topped with matching white cushions. It looks like a photoshoot.

"Do you think you could take a few pictures of me? I haven't posted anything in a few days, and my followers are getting antsy."

The true purpose of Sarah inviting you to spend time with her this morning becomes very obvious. She needs a photographer, not a friend.

"Sure, I can take a few. I really want to read this book, though, so if we could be fast…"

"Oh, that is an awesome idea!"

Sarah grabs the book out of your hand and flips it from the front cover to the back. You must look confused because she quickly explains.

"We could take a few shots of me reading on the beach. I haven't done that before. Is this one of those books that will make me look smart?"

"Yeah, I guess we could. It's just a romance novel, I don't know if your followers will think it makes you smart, but it might make you a little more relatable to some people."

"Smart people read. You, of all people, should know that. Maybe I’ll stop getting all those mean comments about being stupid. I can caption it 'steamy reading on the beach.'" 

Sarah takes her place on the lounge in a very photogenic pose that makes her look graceful while still artfully showing off her cleavage. She opens the book and drapes it over herself, careful not to block her best assets. After a few pictures, she will check your work and find the smallest thing she doesn't like and will make you take more.

"Make sure you get the lighting just right and hold the camera up higher for a better angle. Oh, and make sure to get a good view of the ring. I'm hoping someone will notice it, and then my comment section will blow up."

"Don't you want to wait until the actual announcement?" you ask.

"Oh, no! I am going to pretend like it is a mistake that I posted a picture with the ring on; that way, it will attract more attention."

"It's always about the attention with you," you say under your breath.

"What was that?"

"Tilt your head up higher, so you don't have a double chin."

Sarah gasps and asks to see the pictures you had taken, so she can search for the nonexistent double chin. You feel bad as soon as you say it, you don't need to stoop to her level. After finding out so much about Sarah's past, you understand why she can be so hard to be around at times. If you had found out your father wasn't really your father after he passed away, you would have been devastated too.

"I think it was just a shadow, Sarah you don't have a double chin in any of these pictures. I don't think it is even possible for you to have a double chin," you say, trying to make up for your moment of weakness.

"Of course, you're right," Sarah says as she hands her phone back to you. Apparently, you aren't done taking pictures.

"Maybe we could get a few shots of me in the sand. Those always get a ton of likes."

Sarah begins to position herself on her stomach in the sand with the book open in front of her. She bends her knees, so her legs are in the air, and she bites the end of her sunglasses while she pretends to read. The pictures look like they belong on the cover of a magazine. Sarah looks so natural, even though she's strategically posing herself.

“Sarah, do you ever get tired of this?"

“Of taking pictures? No, not really."

“Not just of the pictures, but of constantly worrying about what others are thinking of you."

“That is why I take so many pictures; if you put your best picture out there, the only ones who comment mean things are the people who are jealous."

“It just seems like so much work to paint yourself as perfect all the time. I guess that's why I stopped using social media so long ago for the most part."

“For once, things actually are perfect. I have the perfect fiance, and soon I'll have the perfect wedding too. If you ever want to get back onto social media, I could help you.”

 "I'm good for now, but thanks," you say, resuming taking pictures. You realize that Sarah likely doesn't know about your past relationship with Todd because you never posted anything about it on social media. If you don't tell her, she likely wouldn't ever know, and you don't want to be the one to break that news to her. So you keep your mouth shut and keep taking every picture Sarah asks for.

"I think I should have something I can work with from these. Thanks, for helping me out. It was so much fun to spend some time with you," Sarah says, making her way back to the ship without looking back.

It isn't exactly your idea of fun to take pictures all afternoon, but you are finally alone, and you can enjoy your book. You take Sarah's chaise lounge under the shade of the canopy. Even with the breeze gently fluttering the sheer curtains hanging off the canopy, you are still dripping sweat. You had to stand directly in the sun to get all of the shots until your wet tank top clung to your body.

You check the beach to make sure it’s empty before slipping your shirt off and setting it next to you on the empty lounge chair. You feel so much cooler as the breeze snakes through the gaps of your lacy bralette. You open your book and are so thankful for the silence. You get sucked into the story on the pages, so much so that you don’t hear the voices approaching until they are only a few feet from you.

"Can you call and make sure the interest rate we discussed earlier is set in stone?"

"Of course, sir."

You don't have time to slip back into your shirt, so you press the open book to your chest, taking advantage of the little coverage it offers you. You look up to find Joel and Reggie staring at you. Reggie quickly averts his eyes. Joel stares openly at your body, and when his eyes meet yours, you know he wants you as much as you want him.

Reggie apologizes, "We didn't realize you were out here. We will give you some privacy." He keeps his head down and shuffles through the sand back to the dock.

"We aren't leaving for a few more hours." Joel holds your gaze as tightly as you’re holding the open book to your chest. "Take your time and enjoy yourself. I'll make sure no one comes down and bothers you if you'd like to resume reading," Joel offers. He winks at you and then follows Reggie back to the dock.

You watch Joel as he walks away, his neatly pressed linen button-up fluttering gently in the breeze. Once he and Reggie are at a safe distance, you grab your shirt off of the lounge chair next to you and slip it over your head. You let yourself fall backward on the plush cushions and close your eyes, imagining Joel undressing you the way he had done with his eyes when he realized you were wearing nothing but your bralette.

A wave of heat rushes through you at the thought until you remember where you are. You sit up so quickly that you make your head spin. After waiting a few seconds to regain your balance, you place your book under your arm, and with your head down, you race back to your room. As soon as your door clicks closed behind you, you head for the shower, throwing your clothes to the floor on your way there. You stand for a long time under the cool water. Eventually, you feel the embarrassment wash down the drain. It takes even longer for the heat Joel made you feel to wash away.

Wrapping yourself in a towel, you make your way out of the bathroom. You would love to sit on the balcony and let the breeze help extinguish what you’re feeling, but you figure you've already taken too much risk for one day. Instinctively, you grab your phone off of the bed to text your friends an update.

You: If I could die of embarrassment, you two would be making funeral arrangements as we speak.

Lin: Oooo, is there some daddy drama we need to know about?

You: Unfortunately, yes. I was just lying on the beach in my bralette, and I had no idea Joel was walking by until it was too late.

Aubrey: I'm sure he didn't mind. If it is that one you bought on our last shopping trip, I know he didn't mind!

Lin: So what did you do? Let him stand there in awe?

You: So not funny, you two! I covered myself with the book I was reading… but we definitely shared a moment.

Lin: Sounds steamier than those romance novels you read!

You: I think I am in way over my head. What do I do? We are staying at his house in the Bahamas for the next few days. We should get there later tonight.

Lin: Let it happen!

Aubrey: Just see where it goes, but if you want to leave, I will find you a plane out of there.

You: It might not be a bad idea to get that flight information. Would you mind Aubrey?

Aubrey: Of course, I will send you the details; that way, you have them if you need them.

You: Thank you. I will keep you both updated!

You close your phone and sigh. You don't want to leave, but it might be for the best, so you don't do something stupid. The thought of leaving this vacation is a weighted decision. If you don't see Todd again for the rest of your life, you'll be overjoyed. However, the thought of possibly never seeing Joel again, of never finding out if you could be more, is painful to think about. Your head is spinning over what the best decision is. So, instead of making any big decisions, you get yourself dressed, fully expecting another quiet day at sea. Exhausted from the heat of the morning and Sarah's impromptu photo shoot, you throw yourself on the bed and close your eyes for what feels like a few minutes.

A light knocking on your door wakes you up, and your eyes take a moment to adjust to the lighting in the room. A quick look out your balcony window, and you know you've slept way longer than you had intended. The golden glow of sunset is streaming through the windows, dusting everything in a light pink hue.

"Brenna! Hey, what's going on?" you ask as you open the door, happy to see a familiar face.

"I was sent up to help you with your luggage. We should be arriving at the Miller's vacation home in about an hour," Brenna explains.

"Oh, wow. I slept a lot longer than I meant to," you say and hold the door open for Brenna to enter your room. You try to rub the sleep from your eyes as she walks into your room.

"No worries, the only thing you missed was the 'Richies' showing off in the pool all day," Brenna reports.

"Then it sounds like I made the right decision. How were they showing off?" you ask.

"Oh, you know the usual 'I'm so annoyed my parents bought me the wrong color convertible,' 'I can't believe he really thought that I drank anything but sparkling water,' 'the sheets in my room are so uncomfortable–the ones on my dad's yacht are Egyptian cotton.'"

You laugh and shake your head. Brenna does a great impression of the things you have heard from different members of the group all week. You head to the closet, Brenna right behind you. "I don't think it will actually take me an hour to get everything packed up. Most of my stuff can just be thrown back in my suitcase, and my new clothes are all still in the garment bags," you say.

"It must be my lucky day. I was in that girl Megan's room earlier, and it looked like she tried on an entire store's worth of clothes and threw them on the floor when they weren't what she was looking for. I feel horrible for whoever got assigned to her room," Brenna comments.

"I would pity anyone who had to work for Megan. I avoid her at all costs. When she glares at you, it feels like you're going to start burning right on the spot," you say.

"I know, right? She's the worst of all of Sarah's friends, but her dad owns some luxury watch company, so she has been a regular on the guest lists for a long time," Brenna explains.

"Brenna, what is the vacation house like?" you ask.

"It's more than someone like you or me could ever believe one person could afford," Brenna replies.

—

As the yacht pulls up to the private dock of the Miller's Bahama vacation home, the size of the mansion is on full display. The white colonial-style mansion is three stories tall, with cantilever balconies off of the second floor. An illuminated infinity pool rests at the top of the white sanded private beach. A small runway off to the side of the property ends at a white stone gazebo that juts out into the ocean. Full palm trees edge the beach, making it feel secluded from the rest of the island. Music plays from the large deck, and shadows of people dot the beach and poolside.

Sarah rushes down to the dock, where a group of very rich women wait for you. Sarah squeals and thrusts her hand forward to show off her engagement ring. This is followed by echoed squeals from the group. You hesitate as your feet hit the dock, not wanting to get in the middle of the model-like women.

"Oh, sweetie, the maid's entrance is around to the side," one of the women says.

You stop in your tracks, not knowing how to respond to the assumption. You feel a warm palm on your lower back push you gently forward past the woman. Joel.

He leans down close to your ear and whispers, "Don't let them intimidate you. You're twice the woman any of them could ever be." His breath tickles your neck, and goosebumps prickle the skin down your arms. You look up at him and give him a weak smile. "Let me show you where you’ll be staying," he says quietly as he lets the corner of his mouth brush your earlobe.

"Thank you," you nearly moan.

Joel keeps his hand on your lower back as you walk to the mansion. He leads you through the back doors and into a living room with a giant chandelier hanging in the middle of the room. Two fish tanks containing every color of tropical fish rest on either side of the large staircase you take to the second floor.

"This is one of my favorite rooms in the entire house," Joel says. He leads you into an elegant bedroom with white double doors exiting onto one of the balconies you had seen from the yacht. Palm fronds are a recurring theme in the decorations throughout the room in a pale green color.

"It's so beautiful; I wouldn't dare touch anything," you say.

"Nonsense. Make yourself comfortable. It's one of three master bedrooms, so you have your own ensuite just through that door there," Joel says, gesturing to an open door on the other side of the room.

"I don't know if I belong in one of the master suites. I would really be okay with one of the smaller rooms," you say.

"This is where you belong. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.”

— 

Waking up in the enormous master suite, you find yourself bathed in the soft glow of morning coming through the windows. The tranquillity is broken by screams of irritation from the floor below. 

Wrapping the robe Joel had given you around yourself, you open the door to your room and hurry down the stairs to see what's going on. "You have got to be kidding me! This is completely unacceptable!" A woman with hair matching Sarah's is yelling at Max, the staff member you'd played cards with on the yacht.

"Ma'am, I don't know what to tell you. Mr. Miller has already assigned the rooms; I cannot go against his direct orders. There is already another guest staying in that room, and I am sure Mr. Miller would not approve of me kicking them out of the room," Max replies, clearly exasperated.

"We will see about that. You will be lucky if you still have a job by the time I'm through with you," the woman retorts and spots you on the stairs. Her face is devoid of emotion, probably from the excessive and very obvious botox treatments. "Come to enjoy the show, did we?" she asks, but you can't tell if she's trying to glare at you or not. You turn around, deciding it's best not to get involved. 

A few hours later, you dare to leave your room again but are met with more yelling coming from the lower floor. Your empty stomach protests the idea of going back through there, so you hope you can make it to the kitchen without anyone seeing you.

"So you are the one that took my room," Marnie says immediately, and you know it's her.

You turn to find not only Marnie but Sarah, Todd, and Megan too. Megan has a small smirk on her mouth that she tries and fails to hide.

"What are you talking about?" you ask, pretending you have no idea what she means.

"I just found out that one of the master bedrooms went to you. I am stuck on the bottom floor in one of the guest rooms like some commoner," Marnie complains.

"I don't see the problem. I was told which room had been assigned to me. I didn't ask for it."

"Oh, you must be the poor one. It makes sense why you can't understand something so simple," Marnie says with a pointed look at your simple clothes.

Megan laughs at Marnie's comment, and Sarah playfully slaps her arm to get her to stop. You can't bring yourself to look at Todd's face, but you figure he's getting a laugh out of this interaction as well.

"Do you know who I am?" Marnie asks.

You internally cringe. You've always hated customers who tried the 'do you know who I am' card at the bar. "I'm guessing that you’re Sarah's mother," you say as calmly as you can.

"Exactly. So you need to pack up your things and get out of my room."

"I'm not moving my stuff. I was assigned that room, and I'm going to stay in it."

Marnie starts stammering an explanation, but Joel walks into the room without her noticing. Relief floods your entire body, knowing Joel is here. He has an angry burning look in his eyes that makes Marnie nervous.

"This whole thing was just a misunderstanding. I just figured, with our history, I would have one of the bigger rooms. I just remembered, though, that I love the view of the ocean from the room I'm in, that’s  probably why you picked it for me," Marnie explains.

Joel doesn't say anything in response, and Marnie tries her best to make an escape. Sarah and Todd follow Marnie out of the kitchen, and you feel heat on your lower back. Joel has placed his hand there and leans close to you.

"Are you okay?" he asks quietly.

You nod and step away from him, grabbing an apple out of the fruit bowl on the counter.

—

The rest of the morning is spent carefully avoiding Marnie, but it seems like everywhere you go, Todd shows up a few minutes later. He's always talking very loudly about what needs to be done before the engagement party. Not wanting to talk to him, you give up and go back to your room. You go out to the balcony and lean over the railing to watch the ocean. A few men are surfing, and you can make out Joel sitting on his surfboard bobbing in the water.

"Baby cakes?"

You look over to see Todd leaning over the railing of the adjacent balcony, straining to see you on yours. You shake your head at him.

"Please, I just need to talk to you."

"You have nothing to say that I would be interested in hearing," you say and go back into your room, shutting the door behind you a little more forcefully than you intended. Your heart is pounding, and you know you need to get control of your anger, but you can't do that knowing Todd is in the next room over. So you grab your book and a beach towel out of the bathroom before heading down to the beach. You walk through the living area of the mansion and nearly run into two giant ice sculptures as they are being brought through to the kitchen.

"Oh, careful!" Sarah says, rushing over to inspect the ice sculpture. You quickly step back to avoid a life-size rendition of Sarah and Todd embracing.

"Oh wow…" is the only thing you can say, looking at the ice sculpture.

"I know, right? It is absolutely perfect," Sarah beams.

"It sure is something."

"Mom commissioned it as soon as she found out about the engagement party."

"Well, I want the best for my little girl," Marnie's voice flows down the stairs as she makes her way toward you with Todd on her arm.

"It really is the perfect embodiment of us both," Todd says with a smile in your direction.

"It matches your heart, Todd. Ice cold," you mutter under your breath.

You make a hasty exit out the back door and nearly run towards the beach, needing to get away from both versions of Todd.

You spread your towel out in the sand and lounge on the ground, hoping to continue the book you had been trying to read the day before. Sarah's demanding voice carries all the way down to the private beach.

You need a better distraction. You throw your head back and look up at the bright blue sky. You don't think you can make it through this engagement party. Your phone vibrates with a text message from Aubrey, containing flight information for a flight leaving the next day. It would cost the rest of your savings, but maybe it would be for the best if you left.

"Every time I've seen you lately, you've had that book with you, but you never seem to be reading it."

You sit up to find Joel standing in front of you, shirtless, soaking wet, and holding a surfboard. Beads of water are sliding down his naked torso, and you can't help but watch them caress his skin, slowly sneaking lower. You look back up at Joel's teasing smile.

"Do you need a towel? You're dripping on me," you say with a playful smile.

"Would you share yours? Unless you'd like to join me for one more wave."

"I have never been surfing," you admit.

"I would be happy to teach you, as long as you don't send us both flying into the water again," Joel says with a wink and a charming smile.

“I can't make any promises about that," you say with a laugh.

“Then it might be best for you to stay on dry land. The engagement party is supposed to start in a few hours."

You sigh quietly and look down at your toes; you buried them under the sand. You pull them out and brush off the sand.

“Well then, I'm going to head back up to shower and get ready." Joel offers you his hand and helps you off the ground.

“I'll see you there." You hand Joel the towel you had been sitting on.

“In the shower?" He asks with a raised eyebrow.

“I'll see you at the party Joel," you reply with a seductive glance over your shoulder as you walk back toward the mansion, leaving him behind you. You can feel his eyes on you as you walk away.

—

The soft fabric of your chiffon cocktail dress swishes against your thighs as you make your way downstairs. The music is already thumping through the house from the back patio, making the windows rattle slightly. The infinity pool is illuminated, giving the entire party a slight glow. The first place you head is to the bartender, knowing it's going to take a lot to get through this night and needing all the help you can get.

"Would you like a Sarah Lemon Drop or a Todd Tequila Shot?"

"Are these the only two things on the menu?" you ask. You shouldn't be surprised that they have signature drinks named after themselves.

The bartender gives you a sympathetic smile, "Or we have the Marry Me Margarita."

This is going to be a very long night.

"A margarita then…"

You walk away with your margarita in hand and join a small group of people surrounding the life-size ice sculpture of Sarah and Todd. A woman turns to you and asks, "So how do you know the couple?"

"Oh, I went to school with Sarah at NYU." You figure it's best to leave out how you know Todd.

"I didn't realize that Sarah went to college. She never mentioned it at our photo shoot in Greece last year. That's how we met," she says with an air of superiority.

"What did you study at NYU?" a man says, entering the conversation.

"Oh, I got my Bachelor's in history and I just graduated with my Master's in political science. I'm going to Harvard for Law school in the fall."

"That sounds absolutely terrible. I went for the first week of college and dropped out. They wanted me to show up for classes before, like ten in the morning," the woman says.

"Yeah, some of the classes can be pretty early," you say, not knowing how to respond.

"So, are your parents making you go to law school or something? Does your dad own a law firm? I have a friend whose dad is making him become a lawyer so he can take over the law firm someday," the man asks you.

"No, I'm not being forced, I just have always wanted to be a lawyer. No one in my family owns a law firm, although I wish they did. That would make finding a job after I graduate a lot easier," you answer with a nervous laugh.

The two give you a strange look as though they had never met someone who willingly went to college to pursue a career simply because it was what they wanted.

"So you're, like, smart," the woman says in a patronizing tone. They turn to each other and actually laugh at you while you’re still standing next to them. 

"Don't tell me you are putting yourself through school too. Let me guess, you're a waitress or something," the man says with a mean smile.

"I'm a bartender," you say quietly.

This answer sends them both over the edge with giggles. They move forward, effectively cutting you out of the group with their bodies. You realize that you have nothing in common with these people and turn to leave. 

Tears sting the corners of your eyes, and you need to get away from the thumping beat of the DJ's speakers. You refuse to cry in front of these people. You walk down the runway to the gazebo that juts out into the ocean, so the waves crash against all sides, drowning out the music and laughter from the party. You brace yourself on the backrest of an iron bench, wiping away an escaping tear from your face. You know you don't belong here, and you can't stand staying another day. You pull your phone out of the clutch you're carrying and send a quick text to Aubrey and Lin.

You: I just got laughed at for wanting to become a lawyer. I need to get away from these people.

Aubrey: Do you want me to book you that flight?

You: Yes, I'm ready to come home.

Aubrey: Bad news. The flight tomorrow is booked.

You: When is the next flight out of here?

Aubrey: In two days.

You: Book it. I will just find a way to hide out for one more day.

Lin: You can get through this! I will be waiting at the airport to pick you up.

You: I can't thank you two enough. What would I do without you? I miss you both, and I can't wait to see you.

Aubrey: Your flight has been changed. We will see you in two days. Hang in there! We love you!

Lin: What Aubrey said. Just two more days!

You: Love you girls too!

A hand grips the top of yours on the bench and gives it a small squeeze.

"I have been trying to talk to you all day. Why have you been avoiding me?"

You look down and are disappointed that it's not Joel's tanned hand on top of yours. You rip your hand out from under Todd's and give him an icy glare. "What do you need?"

"I need to talk to you in private."

"This is private enough," you say, looking back at the party. You know someone would hear you if you screamed loud enough.

"Just come back to my room with me." Todd leans in close and whispers, "I miss you."

"You can talk to me here or not at all," you say and take a large step back and away from him.

"You look amazing, baby cakes. I have never seen you wear a dress like that. It looks good on you and would look even better off," he says with a sleazy smile.

"Do not call me that! Don't think about me like that! Does your fiance know where you are?" you hiss.

"Of course, she doesn't, and she doesn't have to."

"Does she know anything, Todd? Does she know about our past? Does she know that you dated me for years and how you were still dating me when you two met?" Your breaths are coming in ragged gasps now. You have never been so angry at Todd before. You can't stand the fact that he has not only thrown you over for someone else after you had wasted years of your life on him, but now he has the nerve to try and win you back at his engagement party.

"Of course, she knows," he says quickly while looking away.

"You are such a liar!" Your voice echoes against the pillars of the gazebo. Angry tears burn your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall.

"Are you sure I'm the liar and not Sarah? What if she just invited you here to make you watch her get engaged to your ex? It sounds like just the kind of game that she and her rich friends would find so entertaining. They have been laughing at you behind your back this entire trip."

"You've always been the liar, Todd. I wish I had seen that from the very beginning. You obviously don't know Sarah. There is no way she would be that cruel. I never mentioned you by name to her when we were dating because she never seemed to care about my personal life. And if they've been laughing at me this entire time, why didn't you tell me sooner? You're just lying to save yourself." You hope the words you say are true. Spending this much time with Sarah is a rare occurrence, and she seems different. However, you can't fathom that she would intentionally cause you pain.

"We have the chance to get back at her for humiliating you," Todd whispers.

"What are you talking about?" you ask, puzzled by the sudden change in topic.

"Take me back. She never has to know that we made up. Everything could go back to how it was."

"Back to how it was? Really, Todd? How do you think that would ever work? You expect me to be fine with the fact that you are marrying Sarah? Do you really think Sarah would be okay with her husband having a girlfriend on the side?" you ask, taken aback by his request.

"I would still marry Sarah, and we would have more money than we would even know what to do with. As soon as my dad makes me a partner, I will have to go on business trips all the time, and you could come with me. Sarah will never know that we are back together."

"You're ridiculous, Todd. It's all about the money, isn't it? You want everything that you can't have, and you are only marrying Sarah for her money."

"Well, she's not bad to look at either," Todd says as if you are the one being unreasonable.

"I can't believe I ever loved you. You are a terrible person. Just leave me alone, Todd," you say, turning away from him and crossing your arms. You are drained from your conversation and realize that there is no way to make him see how wrong he is being.

"Take me back, please," Todd says, reaching out and grabbing your arm.

"Don't touch me," you say, pulling away from him.

Someone clears their throat at the entrance of the gazebo. Todd drops his arm and takes a step back. "Todd, Sarah is looking for you. I think it would be best if you went and found her."

Todd doesn't respond and quickly leaves. You watch as he stops in front of Joel, waiting for him to move so that he can leave. Joel remains where he is standing, so Todd has to awkwardly squeeze past him. If you weren't so angry and trying to hold back the tears still hot in your eyes, you would have laughed.

You let out a frustrated sigh that turns into a small sob. Joel is by your side in seconds. "Are you okay?" Joel asks, putting a hand on each of your arms and rubbing them comfortingly.

"I'm fine," you lie, trying to hide the few tears that have fallen down your face.

"You're shaking. You are not okay. Come with me," Joel says, holding out his hand, and you take it.

"I don't want to go back to the party," you say.

"We don't have to go back to the party.” 

"Then where are we going?" you ask, your voice cracking.

"To my room.”

Joel holds your hand as he leads you through a side door of the mansion, avoiding the large crowd of the engagement party. When the door closes behind you, the music and noise of the group become muffled. All you can hear is the low rumble of the bass as it vibrates through the walls.

Joel and you walk in silence, and he never lets go of your hand as he leads you back to his room. Joel's room is decorated in soft grays and silvers. The massive bed stands alone in the center of the room with a crystal chandelier hanging over the center.

Your feet are sore, so you slip your heels off and set them by the double door entrance of the room. Joel clicks the lock on the door, walks across the room, and sits down in an armchair on the other side of the room. You follow, your bare feet cold on the tile floors.

The room's soft coldness makes you feel like you're surrounded by a cloud, comfortable and warm but still in a storm. You nearly sink into the plush armchair that matches Joel's. You would love to be enveloped by the chair and not have the conversation you know is coming. Unfortunately, the truth will likely bring on a storm of its own.

"I need to know the truth."

"I know you do," you say. You let the silence fall between you, not knowing how to start. So you wait for Joel to ask a question first.

"You've known Todd for longer than just this week, haven't you?"

"I met him at NYU in one of my general classes," you admit.

"So you've known him for years?"

"Almost four years," you say barely above a whisper. "We dated for three."

You hear Joel take a deep breath at your confession.

"Why didn't you tell me or Sarah?"

"Honestly, I didn't know what to do. When I got here, I had no idea that Todd would be on board too. Sarah introduced me to him as her new boyfriend, and he acted as though we had never met before.The situation was so uncomfortable. I was still in shock and so hurt." 

"So you just decided to say nothing instead?" his eyebrows cinch together. All you can manage is a nod as the tears blur the edges of your vision. "You said you were hurt seeing him again. How long ago was this break up?"

"He officially broke up with me the day before I walked to receive my Master's degree. We had been fighting for weeks before that, though, when I found out he had been cheating on me for months."

"Shit. With my daughter?"

"Yes…they met at my birthday party."

"Did she know?"

"I honestly don't think she knew. Or at least if she did, she didn't know I was the girlfriend."

"I'm so sorry. But how did you expect to spend an entire vacation keeping this all a secret?"

"By the time I came to my senses, the yacht had already departed. I figured I would avoid Todd, and at the end of this vacation, I would go back to my normal life. I would never see him again after I moved, and I honestly didn't think that Sarah and Todd would last. Sarah never dates anyone for longer than a few months. I never imagined that Sarah would get engaged to him."

"Why has he been following you around?" Joel says sternly.

"I don't know why he can't just let our relationship go…" you say.

You hear Joel sigh, and when he speaks again, his tone is softer. "What did he have to say to you tonight in the gazebo? You looked like he had you cornered."

"He was lying to me...." you attempt to avoid his question, not wanting to go into the awful details of your conversation with Todd.

"About what?" Joel asks, he was clearly going to keep pressing until you told him everything.

"He told me Sarah knew and that she invited me on purpose as some kind of joke for her and all her rich friends."

"I know my daughter can be thoughtless at times, but I don't believe she would purposely be so cruel," he says, rubbing his hands on his face.

"I don't believe him," you assure Joel, seeing the worried look on his face.

"Why would he outright lie like that?"

It takes you a few minutes to respond, trying to find the best way to word your answer. You sigh and look down at your feet. "He was trying to convince me to sleep with him again… to get back at Sarah." 

Anger heats Joel's gaze as his eyes bore into yours. "Do you want him again?"

"What are you talking about? No! Of course, not. I don't want him in any way ever again. He completely betrayed me," you say, completely shocked by his question. You'd figured his anger would be towards Todd, not you. Joel's eyes remain dark, and he doesn't respond. Instead, he gets up from his chair and starts pacing the room. "Aren't you worried that this is the man that your daughter has picked to marry?" you ask, exasperated that he is questioning you about wanting to sleep with your ex. As if you are so weak that you can't possibly say no to a man who has utterly betrayed your trust.

"If I go and tell Sarah what's going on and try to convince her to end the engagement, then he would be free to come back to you. Is that what you want?" Joel asks through clenched teeth.

Joel's words sting.

"Why are you twisting everything I say?"

"How can I trust anything you say after you've lied to everyone this entire time?"

The tears truly start falling then. You quickly stand from your chair and make your way to the door. Before you even reach your shoes next to the door, Joel grabs your wrist, making you pause.

"Stop. I'm sorry. I didn't mean that," he says softly as he runs his thumb in circles on your wrist. Normally, that would have made your heart flutter, but at that moment, the only thing you want is to be alone on a flight headed for home.

"I don't need this from you." You use the back of your free hand to wipe the tears streaming down your cheeks.

"I just hate imagining you with him," he says quietly.

You let the unsaid meaning of his words float between you. Neither of you acknowledges the implications of his words.

"I just have to know. Do you love him?"

"Will you believe what I tell you?" you ask, finally turning around to look at him again. 

He lets your wrist fall from his fingers. "Yes. I promise," he says with a note of fear in his eyes. Is he truly afraid that you are still in love with a man who treated you so poorly? He reaches up to your face and wipes away another stray tear.

"No. I do not love him," you say pointedly, your voice steady.

"Did you love him?" Joel asked softly.

"I was with him for three years, Joel," you say with a sigh

"That's not what I asked. Did you love him?" he asks again, more forcefully.

"I did love him, but after everything that's happened, how could I still love him? I was wrong about so many things in our relationship," you respond.

"What if you change your mind?" Joel resumes pacing the room.

"I won't. I don't take betrayal lightly," you say firmly.

"I just wish you would have said something from the very beginning."

Anger surges through you. Anger because Joel doesn't seem to understand that everything between you and Todd is over. You don't want anything to do with Todd because the only person you want is Joel. You only want Joel. "You don't get it though, do you?" you say, stepping up to him, blocking his path.

"What am I not getting? Tell me why you lied to me for so long. I would have understood."

"Would you really have understood? Don't you get it? If I had told the truth from the very beginning, I would have been on the first flight home. I would have left as soon as we made the first port," you say, raising your voice.

Joel stares at you, still not understanding. You take another step closer to him, so close that your bodies almost touch. You take a deep breath to calm yourself down before continuing.

"If I had told the truth, I would have never gotten to know you!"

Joel looks at you intensely. He knows you're right.

"I wanted to tell you first thing, but I was just scared. I don't fit in here, remember? The last thing I needed was to make Sarah mad. And who even knows if Todd would've owned up to it? He could've pretended I was lying to cover for himself," you explain, turning away from him.

He gently grabs your arm, making you face him. He looks down at your hand and then interlaces his fingers with yours.

"So, you're glad we've gotten to know each other then?" he asks with a sly smile.

You can't help but smile back. "Of course, I am. Isn't it obvious? I spend most of my time with you."

He nods. "That's true." He lets go of your hand, but your fingertips still touch.

"Todd wanted you to have sex with him to make Sarah mad? He seems to be pretty hung up on you,” Joel says, looking at you.

You raise your eyebrows slightly at that. "Are you trying to ask me about our sex life?"

Joel looks at you. "Honestly, I'm just jealous he knows what sex with you is like."

Your cheeks grow warm, and your heartbeat quickens.

"Why would you be jealous of that? I'm sure you've been with plenty of women," you say.

"Yes, I've been with women, but none as beautiful as you–inside and out," Joel replies, looking into your eyes.

You stare at each other, your fingertips brushing against each other. He moves closer to you and lifts your chin up. You gaze up at him, and he brushes a strand of hair out of your face with a smile and then ever so slowly, he leans down and kisses you.

Taglist:

@lizzie-cakes @ashhlsstuff @puduvallee

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x f!reader #tlou fanfiction