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haet-sal · 1 year

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Cinderella Boy// camboy!juyeon x reader

Living with his two stepbrothers while camboying from his little room, Juyeon dreams of a way to escape his situation. You’re a big fan of the camboy theblover, and when you suspect your fwb’s stepbrother of being him…

Tags: juyeon x reader, Fwb!hyunjae, sex toys, graphic sex and masturbation, edging and orgasm control, 1 smut scene with Hyunjae even 🙀, PWP

non-sex warnings: juyeon’s family isn’t very good to him (evil step brothers sunwoo & hyunjae), camboying and being financially dependent and EXTORTION, mention of getting a woman pregnant to manipulate her, ANGST as this is a cinderella retelling

W.c.: 9.3k

…

“Here, Juyeon, if you’re done with the vacuuming, we left some food out for you.” It’s Christmas, the guests had gone home after enjoying his stepmother’s turkey and chicken, and Juyeon was left to wash the dishes and clean the house. After washing the plates of 10 people— all of them barely fit the apartment he and the stepbrothers were renting—he had to vacuum any dirt or dust the guests would have let in, and now he washes up, planning to finally eat the dinner he missed.

But there’s only plain rice and a salad on the table. He made a confused noise, which made the stepmom scoff. “There’s only one turkey leg left—you didn’t think we’d save it for you, did you?” Juyeon turned back to the cold rice, albeit cooked with butter, but still, he was hungry and wanted actual meat with it. “The last turkey leg is for Sunwoo,” says his step mom. “That reminds me—you need to stay up and open the door for him when he gets home, he says he forgot his keys.”

Juyeon never had a mean thought in his head. He would stay up late if his family needed him.

And yet, his lack of mean thoughts towards other people made up for an onslaught of mean thoughts towards himself.

It wasn’t that bad, he just… never heard good things about himself growing up. It was always about how smart hyunjae was, how outgoing, and Sunwoo—so adaptable to his environment, so strong even at a young age, and how good he was at sports and everything else he put his mind to—Juyeon’s father passed when they were quite young, so his stepmother was the only parent they had around them. And she never had anything nice to say about Juyeon, everything was always about her two sons. Sometimes she even referred to Juyeon simply as ‘the boy’, not even by his name. The boy should do the chores.

And now, living in an apartment with just his two step brothers, Juyeon still felt as inadequate as ever, compared to Hyunjae, who was a law student, and Sunwoo, who went to university on his football scholarship, while he just picked a small but secure major, living in the home his stepmom rented for him—with his dad’s money, yes, but it was all hers, now. And, plus, all Juyeon really felt proud about was… his R-rated camboy channel… and it’s not like he could tell his family.

Today, since it turned out he might have to stay up late waiting for Sunwoo—and knowing he’s out with his friends, he’d take until 3 or later—Juyeon decided to pull an all-night stream, alerting the only other person left in the apartment, Hyunjae—that he’d be in his room. It was late, 11p.m., the perfect time to stream.

His room was padded in soundproofing foam, making the space even tighter than it should be. Between the few feet where he’s got his makeshift-bed propped up, there’s just enough space for his desk and the rolling chair he got, but there’s not even enough space for the chair to roll anywhere. He even bought a smaller type of chair so it would fit, and it already took a good amount of his savings away, and needed a way to make it back.

Which was how he got the idea to cam—granted it wasn’t entirely his, it was his best friend Eric’s, but also, even Cinderella had help from mice and pumpkins.

So the great pumpkin Eric directed him towards this camming site, and it’s been a full year since he’s joined. But it had only been about 2 months since he started actually getting exposure, 2 months since he gained nearly 2k subscribers overnight, ever since the video of him jerking off went viral on the site.

He didn’t know how to handle it at first, since the video was even being shared on Twitter, but Juyeon slowly got the hang of it, reposting the link to his channel on the tweets, and soon, people were joining his streams, and the comments of ‘I didn’t have an account before I saw him on twitter’ encouraged him to go on, and garner more followers, sometimes in hundreds on one day.

Tonight, he’s feeling particularly needy, so he turns the webcam on as soon as he’s locked the door to his room, and signs into his channel. The camera trains on his torso up to his chin, just the way he always limits it to. Sometimes he shows it to the point of his pouty lips, but that’s as far as it goes. He doesn’t know what he’d do if someone recognized him, it was a true fear of his.

“Hey, everyone,” he says drowsily, and it wasn’t to some effect—he really was tired, from the housework and the meatless rice he just had. With tired eyes, he watches as the viewers flowed in, in tens and later hundreds.

“Hello,” he says again. He reads the comments. “Clothes off? Really? Oh, no… I think I should tease you a little bit tonight, though…” But he fixes his shirt, so the neckline lowers and makes them pant over the definition of his chest. He gives the camera a lazy smile. “So what are you guys doing?”

Thebloverlover: loving juyo

He knows it’s stupid to use his nickname as his stage name, but really, no names were coming to his head and it just slipped out. “Loving me…” he leaned into the camera, just enough to feel close enough but not distort his image. “You mean it, right? You really, really mean it?”

Juyoxme: can we see your… 🍆

Juyeon just laughs at vulgar comment after vulgar comment. “I have good news for everyone!” he says. “I’m going to pull an all-nighter—yes, for everybody in every timezone. It’s staying up with Juyo time. You think you can handle it?” He finally unbuttons his shirt, but doesn’t take it off, leaving what’s in the shadows to the viewers’ imagination. “Let’s love each other today, alright?”

You squealed in your bed, lying with your laptop on your chest and headphones on. Last time he’d moaned so hard in your ear you’d screamed out loud. And came right then, your vibrator snug against your thighs—it had moved away from you in the commotion of Juyeon’s actions, and you’d cum, untouched, just to him.

So safe to say he’s your favorite camboy on the entire internet. You quickly type a reply as soon as he announces he would be on stream all night:

juy0sprincess!: YOU’RE JOKING

juy0sprincess!: WE’RE GONNNA PLAY ALL NIGHT

The boy laughs on screen. “Yeah, yeah I guess we are! So, how do you want to play with me?”

He angled the camera down on his crotch, as he untied the band to his sweatpants. He moaned, or hummed, in between: “mmm… mmm, where are you imagining it right now? You want this in your mouth? … in your…” He slides the pants off, and you grip the sheets under you.

juy0sprincess!: you get me so wet :(

He seemed to not have read the comment, as multiple flashed up the screen, in tens. You didn’t know why you sounded so pathetic talking to him over multiple screens, but apparently hundreds of people were being just as pathetic.

“Aww,” Juyo sighed, “there’s three hundred of you. I remember when I did these with just a dozen or so… oh, thank you, juyolover1!” You heard the giddiness in his laughter as the flash of the blue ‘___ tipped!’ sign sprouted across the screen.

Ah, right! You hit yourself, you should have been tipping since the start of the stream! Juyo makes your brain go static sometimes. You immediately reached over for the tipping bar, giving him $10 out of your visa card. Juyeon accepts this graciously, thanking you.

He’s so cute when he’s modest and grateful. You tip another $10. You could go anywhere under 50 for an entire week, since your parents still monitored your account usage—but it would all change, once you get a job at your dad’s company! It was nepotism: he was paying you like a real employee, you get as many sick days as you want, you didn’t have to start somewhere lower in position like an intern.

And then, you could tip Juyo as much as you want. You would tip him hundreds, really—he’s your favorite, and he made this 4 bedroom apartment where you lived alone so much less lonely. Ugh, if only he knew how pampered and rich you were…

You tip another $5 when he pans the camera close to his cock, which is leaking with precum. You swear, you’d never seen a cock so pretty—Juyo’s color, the girth, the length, the trim around it, the way his even larger hand would wrap around it so proficiently… is there such a thing as an aesthetically pleasing cock? Well, here it was.

Anyway, you’re almost mesmerized as he pumps his cock in his hands, the pretty tan color meeting a pale pink as the precum leaked out. He hisses, as he gets faster and faster—

Juyolover: don’t cum

You watch as the screen fills with the request that he doesn’t cum, and he only shows his cock as he reads each comment, slowly.

theclover: if you can edge yourself I’ll tip 50

“Hmm…” you can hear the pout in his voice. “Don’t cum?” He sighed, a nasal whine going out. “Alright, if you want to play that game…” He started pumping his cock again, this time so slow it must just kill him. “Princess,” he called—that’s you, that’s you! He remembers you! “Do you want to rub yourself with me, baby? You like it when we cum together, don’t you?”

Your legs squeeze tight together, your thighs hot against the other’s skin. You slowly pulled out your vibrator from under your bed, and spread your legs, putting it on the lowest setting–just so you could still hear Juyo’s voice.

“Let’s edge ourselves together~” Juyo told you. “The chat is mean, and they’re controlling our orgasms—let’s get tortured by them, together, okay?” You hear the sharp inhales and exhales as he keeps stroking his cock. “So now…” he breathed sharply, “now I don’t have to be alone.”

You typed ‘I love you’ and sent, and you don’t know if he sees it, as the chat quickly swallows the comment up.

“Favoritism?!” Juyeon chuckled. The camera’s still trained on his crotch, but you can hear the smile in his voice. “I just know juyosprincess. They’ve been a fan for a long time~ I do appreciate every one of you, though, but… they’re cute. I like teasing them.” He hmphs. “You guys tease me, so I tease them~” And your vibrator whirrs against your slit, sometimes you bring it up to touch your clit.

Juyo knows how to pace himself, of course, so he could go all night—he would edge himself, stop and shakily recount things he finds hot from porn and his imagination (“I think making someone cry during sex is really hot—from the joy, of course”/”ah, you guys love calling people daddy? Do you want to call me daddy?”) and then go back to edging himself. Unlike him, you had already fucked yourself multiple times, fingered yourself imagining his hands in you, and then let yourself calm down and just watched him.

Finally after hours of shaky breaths and needy moans, he lets himself cum for the first time that night, the whiteness coating his hands and the blanket he laid down on the chair. You bit your lips to bite down on just how fucking hot it was, that it could possibly make you cum another time, as he moaned and hissed curses into the camera as he came. “Wow! I didn’t know I could hold myself that long!” he says with a light laugh, as if he’d been doing something completely innocent. “I mean, it was painful doing this… I’ve only done it for minutes, not hours!”

He reads the comments, although you couldn’t see his eyes go over the screen. “Yeah,” he admits, “you guys do like it when I’m in pain—isn’t that so mean? Are my jubis mean?”

About 30 minutes before 4 a.m., Juyo sits up from his seat, tucking himself back into his pants. “Alright, guys, that’s it for today! The person I’m waiting for is home—yes, my roommate—I’ll be back later this month anyway, see ya!”

You immediately shut the laptop and go to sleep, the giant apartment empty and meaningless to you. But Juyo… he had taken the loneliness away and given you a friend, someone that would listen to you, and pretend to love you.

And sometimes pretense was good enough.

During the times you weren’t stalking Juyo on the site, looking through every half-cropped selfie and live he broadcasts, you also had a semi successful social life. If only people knew how the princess lived, in her lonely four-bedrooms-three-baths apartment…

But as the daughter of the man who basically funded half the programs in the university, you’re a wanted woman. And you had a reputation to uphold. So you’d been… doing the law department students’ representative for like, three months now.

You hadn’t meant to end up fucking Hyunjae, it’s just… he’s hot! When it started, it was only a blind date, the school princess and the school’s most reputed upperclassman. You ended up bringing him home that day—2 o’clock in the afternoon—and made love taking advantage of the empty apartment floor, as every neighbor was out at work or somewhere else, busying themselves.

After that first fuck, you both realized that you couldn’t really be a couple—there was sexual chemistry, or at least enough that you tricked yourselves it was good enough, but you both were distant people; Hyunjae was too busy in his career and representative duties, while you were just emotionally unavailable. (Due to being in love with a camboy, but you don’t say that.) So both of you settled on being sexual partners but not real partners, and anyway whenever you meet at school everyone tells you Hyunjae’s perfect for you–and you always laugh it off.

Today, you’d finally agreed to meet for Netflix at his apartment, where you’d never been to. At this point you trusted Hyunjae enough to visit him at his home, even if he shared it with roommates.

Expecting getting fucked that evening, you wear a little skirt, safety shorts that he could just pull down to your ankles and fuck you, legs either wrapped around him or over his shoulders. You shudder in anticipation just thinking about all the ways Hyunjae was going to handle you.

“The girl I’m seeing is coming over, I need you guys to sit in and watch the movie with us,” Hyunjae told his brothers.

Sunwoo immediately broke into a whine, while Juyeon widened his eyes, sort of shocked. “Even me?”

“There’s only two of you!” Hyunjae says. “I just need you guys to shut up, sit, and then keep shutting up when the movie’s over.”

When you get there, Sunwoo’s the one that opens the door. You already know each other, being that he’s the captain of the uni football team and there weren’t many people that didn’t know him. Awkwardly, you greet him by name and ask him how he is. Hyunjae was soon rushing out to the door for you.

The smell of butter and caramel slowly floats from the kitchen, and out comes a boy, carrying a giant bowl of popcorn that could fit Lake Eerie. “Here!” he says. “We’re ready.”

You do a double take as you meet him—you didn’t think there would be a way the third roommate is just as hot, or maybe even hotter, than Hyunjae and his brother. And yet… there this cat-eyed protagonist was.

You go over to the boy and try to introduce yourself, but Hyunjae cuts in for you before you open your mouth: “this is Y/n! Her granddad is the statue in front of the east gate, if you didn’t know.”

“Oh.” Juyeon gave you a smile, waving his hand with the popcorn in it.

“Third roommate?” you asked Hyunjae.

“No, no, they’re both my brothers—Juyeon is my step brother.”

Juyo? You realize later that it’s actually Juyeon, and smile to yourself, at the pure coincidence of Hyunjae’s brother having a similar name to your camboy.

Sunwoo’s already turned the big TV on, and picks the movie you wanted to watch. He’s sitting in the middle of the couch, mindlessly separating everybody, so the distribution’s weird, as you sit on Sunwoo’s side and Hyunjae on the other. Juyeon takes a seat on the floor, which you feel bad for, so you slide down after a while to sit with him.

He’s surprised. “You’re watching the screen from the side,” he whispered to you, just lowly enough that no one heard. “It’ll ruin your eyes.”

First full sentence that he spoke to you, and…

You feel a blush rising to your cheeks. It sounds just like Juyo. Like, the tone and indentations. And the voice itself. You know people can have similar voices, of course, so you’re not accusing your boyfriend’s brother of being a camboy, but it’s just… you swore if you ever found a voice-sound-alike to Juyo, you’d marry them on the spot. And here this guy was.

You shy away from Juyeon, heart beating too fast in your chest. You look away from him, trying to still your breathing.

He’s… just shy enough it resembles your camboy. And the voice—but you’re not about to convince yourself Juyo was sitting beside you, the odds of that are just… impossible.

And yet, you found yourself turned on, an insatiable hunger growing in your core, as you realized how similar Juyeon and Juyo were. You thought passively about his cock—do you think it’s just as big as Juyo’s—and suddenly zap yourself back from those though.

Fuck, Y/n. Control yourself, you don’t even know this guy. Do not think about his dick.

About two thirds into the movie, Sunwoo’s asleep with his neck bending down on the armrest of the couch, and Juyeon mindlessly fiddles with the carpet. You look over at Hyunjae, who sends you a signal with a flash of his eyes, and soon you’re walking into his room, leaving the two brothers at the TV.

Hyunjae’s room is big. It’s the master bedroom of the apartment, and the walls are lined with shelves full of law textbooks, all of them well worn out and often pulled out of their shelves. Hyunjae’s been in your room before, but you’ve never been in his.

The way you’re in a space so sacred and private to him gladdens you, and you kiss him against the wall, while he kicks the door closed with one foot. “Fuck,” he moaned into your mouth. When you pull away, he’s looking at you, pupils shaking.

You hadn’t been together in a while.

“You haven’t called in weeks,” Hyunjae complains, although not childishly. He looks like he’s a husband filing complaints. “I’m not just some side dick you book, you know? At least keep in touch.”

You giggle, and kiss him again. “Sorry.” You pull his shirt over his head—or he did, you don’t remember—and kiss his chest. “Sorry.” You trail kisses down until you’re at his nipple, which you kiss, too. “Sorry…”

Not wasting any time, Hyunjae shoves you backwards into his bed, and unzips your skirt. While he’s below your waist, working you, you couldn’t help but think of Juyo and his giant cock and those hands… those hands that always looked three times the size of yours, you’d always imagined him splitting you open on just two fingers, big enough as four of yours.

Hyunjae kisses you on the lips, tongue swiping across your bottom lip and then in your mouth; you make space for him by opening your legs, and you realize you’re still thinking about Juyo.

You weren’t sure what to call it at this point: addiction? Obsession? Intellectual enslavement? Even now, all you were thinking of was getting your first paycheck and then donating the money into the boy’z coin box. What you felt for that guy was just astronomical.

Hyunjae finally has taken off his pants, discarded somewhere on the floor, and is now inside you, and for the first time since weeks, you’re suddenly not thinking about Juyo.

You moan, straight into Hyunjae’s ears, which gives him an ego boost. He cursed, asking you how much you liked his cock.

“Sooo good,” you moan, just in simple breaths.

“Mmm, tell me how much you like it.”

“So good! Oh, Hyunjae, so—” Suddenly you’re back in your daydreams again, and you don’t even realize it, but you’re imagining Juyo in you, his thick cock entering your little pussy, his pouty lips sucking hickeys on your breasts. Suddenly Hyunjae wasn’t even the guy inside you anymore, it was Juyo, that faceless figure whose cock you could imagine inside you in detail. “Fuck, Juy—”

You stop yourself before you say the full name, making it sound like an incoherent moan. And Hyunjae bought it, too in the moment to realize you had said some streamer’s name.

You gathered yourself as soon as your first orgasm came, and Hyunjae’s good at that—he makes you cum first, before he’s left with his hard-af dick and you choose what to do with it, where he cums. This time, you suck him off, sometimes going slow on it, like you learned from how Juyo teases himself, until Hyunjae’s cursing names out and begging for you to stop teasing.

You’re in bed, the lamp shut off, and blue lights from the neighbor’s apartment streamed into the room. Drowsily, you keep a distance from Hyunjae, knowing it would just blur the line if you cuddled. You keep a pillow between the two of you, and sleep on your side, away from him.

It’s cold, and you realize the air conditioning isn’t working, so you sat up—

You gasp. “Hyunjae! Has the door been open the entire time?”

He wiped the sleep off his eyes as he got up to look. “Huh. I thought I shut it?”

“You must not have gotten it right!”

Hyunjae jumped out of bed to shut it, and jumped back in, in mere seconds. “It’s fine. Well, my brothers got an earful, but they’re just my brothers.”

You hit his arm. “It’s embarrassing for me!”

“Why? You don’t even have to go to family dinner with those two…”

In the morning, you take a shower at Hyunjae’s apartment while he makes you breakfast. It’s early in the morning, and Sunwoo’s still sleeping, you could hear his snores even over the sounds of the shower.

Later it’s only you, Hyunjae and Juyeon at the breakfast table, and Juyeon has a hard time meeting your eyes. Hyunjae starts: “so last night—”

“I didn’t hear anything!” Juyeon said so quickly, as soon as Hyunjae mentioned the words ‘last’ and ‘night’. You stare at the pancakes, cringing. So he did hear everything.

Hyunjae doesn’t address it, although he doesn’t shy away from that whole conversation, either. “I need to soundproof my room, too,” he says. “Like yours.”

“Why did you need to soundproof your room?” you asked Juyeon.

“Just… didn’t want to disturb my brothers.”

Hyunjae preferred meeting at your apartment (better water pressure for his showers in the morning, no pesky brothers as roommates, not so crammed in an apartment that you can make as much noise as you like) but you kept insisting you meet at his, just because you felt a little lonely sometimes and it was fun hearing Sunwoo stay up on his video games, or just to have a little companionship knowing there’s people on the other side of the wall.

It was horrible for Juyeon.

He kept as much distance from you as he could, out of respect for Hyunjae, and also for you—ever since he heard you and Jaehyun together that night, he hadn’t been able to look you in the eyes. Or even in the face, because if he even stares for longer than a second, he gets the auditory replays of what he heard… and he starts to wonder what you looked like as you moaned.

See, this is why he’s trying to have respect. Because good guys don’t wonder that about girls, nevermind his brother’s girlfriend. Juyeon beat himself up internally whenever he started thinking about you that way, the dick-hooking-in-pants, unsteady-breathing, jittery way, so he decided to avoid you completely. And yet…

Yet he would have done anything for you to talk to him when you passed by in the kitchen, just a ‘hi’ could have got him so high, he would high-five himself under the table after a successful greeting.

He doesn’t want to call it a crush. That would be fucked up—plus, he thinks he only started to like you after he found out about you, that your father’s the one who built half the buildings in campus, that your parents rented you one of those rich people-penthouses for you to live alone—he started to romanticize your lifestyle, and thought about how it would be nice if you could take him away, from his little room the size of a closet.

Sunwoo let it slip to their mom that Hyunjae knows you—implying that there’s more involvement—and she went ballistic, in a way that made Juyeon feel bad for you. And Hyunjae and everyone involved.

“Well marry her!” their mom said immediately, at of the mention of your name. “I’ve seen her family on the cover of every magazine. Multiple times.”

Hyunjae brushed it off, shaking his head. “We’re not even that serious.”

“She’s not serious about you?” the mom scoffed. “Get her pregnant.”

“Mom! What the fuck?”

She turned to Sunwoo. “Well if he won’t do it then you—”

“I’m a bachelor!” Sunwoo groaned, grabbing his phone and dinner plate off the table. “I’ll eat in my room, thank you very much.”

Juyeon simply ate his food with the occasional clearing of his throat, to combat the awkward situation. Hyunjae is mortified that their mom would ever suggest something so vile, and unfitting for him. Blood boiling at the mere suggestion.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that mom wants what’s best for my two sons,” she finally apologized. “It would be nice if either of you could marry into a family like that…”

“There’s Juyeon,” Hyunjae finally said.

“Juy—” Mrs. Lee shook her head, sighing. “No, no… not Juyeon.” Meaning that he didn’t count, not as family and not as a son.

“Which room is Juyeon’s, even?” you asked Hyunjae one day, on your third or fourth visit to the apartment. “I thought him and Sunwoo roomed together, but I just saw that Sunwoo's is a single.”

Hyunjae nodded to the little storage-closet-sized room behind the two bedrooms, and you gasp. “Someone can’t live in there!” You slapped his arm. “You’re kidding me.”

Hyunjae just laughs it off, not arguing with you, but later in the morning, when you got curious where Juyeon’s room was, you wandered into the tiny little room. As said, there was a real one-person room in there, even though the bed got in the way of the door and didn’t close properly, and the entire thing was so crammed.

It’s also dark, as there’s no window installed in there, so you flip the switch, just to see, curious. And when the lights turn on—you’re open-mouthed in realization.

Oh my god.

O h my god, oh my god oh my—

You reach for the patterned cotton sheets of the bed, feeling a shiver come over you. Then you look at the chair, although you don’t go so far into the room to touch it. The ring light behind the computer. The bed, the chair.

This is Juyo’s streaming room.

Juyeon’s streaming room.

Holy shit. You’re about to scream or just… combust, thinking about all the times you’d seen the sheets on the bed and imagined Juyo pinning you down on the mattress and dicking you down until you’re crying and begging for more, Juyo, just Juyo—his mouth on you, his pretty giant cock—

But it’s not Juyo, anymore. It’s Juyeon. The image of Juyeon set itself in your mind’s eye, a fitting piece of the puzzle to what he always cropped out. You feel a shiver coming over you, you were literally in Juyo’s lair.

“Hey… what are you doing here?” came Juyeon’s voice from behind you.

You turn around, and he’s standing there looking all confused, lips tight in a frown. You’d seen those lips a hundred times before, why didn’t you recognize him?!

“I–I—” You cleared your throat, trying to gain composition. “I just wanted to know what this room was!” Which was actually the truth. “Wow, it’s… smaller than I remember!”

Juyeon questions you with a lift of his eyebrows, and you backpedal:

“Than I thought it’d be, I mean.” You laughed, just to appease him. “But it’s a nice room, either way, I love what you've done with the… space.”

“Thanks…” Juyeon smiled. Fuck, he smiled. Half hearted and not meaning it, but it was bright nevertheless. You’re watching your camboy, in the flesh, right in front of you.

You’re gawking at him, all the videos you’ve seen of him teasing himself and touching his cock flashing past your eyes. Juyeon contains the awkwardness with a shrug. “So, did you need something—”

“I wanted to ask you!” you blurt out. You came across a horrible, nasty, this-just-might-work idea. Just in your head.

Juyeon nodded, signaling for you to go on.

“Do you want an internship at my dad’s company?” you ask. “I mean, I heard about what you’re studying, and I thought it’d be a good experience, for your resumè, and—” Juyeon’s look towards you was outlandish, like what is she saying? “We pay our interns! Good enough, higher than minimum wage–plus, it’d be easy, because… I’d be your boss.”

You realize that Juyeon’s look wasn’t because he was thinking you’re weird, but because he’s just so surprised you’d ask him that out of the blue. Juyeon gets easier to read with every furrowed brow and pursed lips. “You… you’re really offering me a job?”

You nodded, looking straight at his face, but you’re just examining every feature of his body, wondering why the hell you missed it. Juyeon is Juyo.

“Why me?” Juyeon was wondering.

“I just—you’re Hyunjae’s brother, and… you look… like you’d fit the job.”

Juyeon’s excited. He’d never thought he’d ever work with such a big company like yours, even though he’d daydreamed about it.

“Can I really?” he asked for confirmation, and you slowly brought your hand to grip his arm, trying to give it a squeeze for reassurance but also just wanting to touch him, your boy, you literally found him—your wildest dream—and you can’t even tell him, or anyone.

“Just tell me which hours you have free.”

Later that day, you drive back home, calling your father with the same fussy voice that wins him over all the time. “Daddy,” you whined into the phone. “I’m bringing this guy as an intern in. Can he start Tuesday?”

His first day of work and he’s expecting himself to fuck up, but once he sees your face in the office, beyond the glass window that separates your private room, he relaxes a little. You told him it’d be okay—you’re the one he’s working for, after all.

It fills him with confidence, and he figured out being an intern was just what he did at home: chores, service to people that do nothing for him, being nice with a smile—but also with the job experience. There were also computer stuff and filing things that he slowly learnt, which he’s thankful for. Every time he learns something new, he thinks about you, working away at your desk in your office, a bright smile that always lights up for him. His little cheerleader, who didn’t even need say anything to get him so energetic.

He makes the coffee runs for the office with another intern, but mostly he’s the one that memorizes the orders. Soon he’s back in the elevator with the cups in his hands, and he’s most excited about giving it to you, reciting your coffee order in his head and thinking about the way you’ll smile when he presents it to you.

He comes into your office baring the cup in his hand, lips pursed so he doesn’t accidentally end up smiling. “Here’s your coffee.”

Like he expected, you smile, which affects him in strange ways, making his breath hitch in his chest. He almost wants to stay to watch you drink what he brought, but he quickly leaves, having learnt from his stepmom that once the job’s done he should stop bothering them.

You observe Juyeon from your desk, and he goes around the office making paper runs and helping out in inconveniences, but so cautiously… The whole point of having him working with you was that he would be close, you’d get to know him in real life, not the camboy persona.

But Juyeon exceeds your expectations—he’s better than his online personality, even, and you’re starstruck, because you can’t find a single thing you dislike about him.

“Juyeon?” You came out of your office to talk to him, alerting him with one hand over his shoulder. “Where’s your coffee?”

“I don’t…” he just toys with his hands. “I didn’t want to buy one.”

You know he mentions often in his streams that he’s saving up all the money from camming to move out, and you realize he didn’t want to waste a single cent of his internship money, either. You fish out a $20 note from your coat pocket, handing it to him. “Here. So you can spare more for your coffees.” But part of you knew he still wouldn’t spend it.

Juyeon is surprised that people at work actually like him. The superiors immediately take a liking to him, saying he ‘works better than half the permanently employed staff’. He gets bashful, but he just takes the compliments.

“Y/n found you, huh!” one of the executive managers say, as he approached you two, while you were teaching him the way of the office files. “You did find one outstanding young man, here, Y/n—this boy works hard!”

“Juyeon helps out so much at home,” you told the manager. “He’s always so helpful…”

“What a good boy!” The older man grinned, patting Juyeon on the back. “Keep this up, and we might employ you after the internship.”

“Really?” Juyeon beamed. He caught you in a side glance, and you looked… proud. Of him. He’d never felt like this before, to have someone be so nice and so kind to him, and be happy on his behalf… “Thank you,” he told you privately later, when the manager’s out of earshot.

“For what?” To be honest, it was killing you trying to pretend that you haven’t cum to him about a hundred times before, and also that you didn’t know what his orgasm face looked like. It’s impossible. But all those images didn’t show on your face, you simply returned Juyeon’s smiles innocently.

“For giving me a chance,” Juyeon explained. “It means so much to me, Y/n, no one… no one’s ever been this nice to me before.”

Juyeon sighed into the oppressive air of his room as he pressed the button that makes him go live.

He wasn’t exactly in the mood for it, he’d rather be fucking his hand, thinking about you—but when he’s this pent up, it’s always a good idea to film. Except he doesn’t think he can stay long and talk a lot today, he just wants to stream, get it over with, cum, and be done.

People start rolling in, and he just watched, dead-eyed. Not even reading the chat. Mindlessly, he pulls himself out of his cotton pajama pants and boxers—not before he starts getting comments about how the pants make him look so boy-next-door—and checks his own cock out on the screen. “Hi,” he spoke, finally. Comments flashed by. “I… I need to cum, fast…” On the laptop screen, he watched as his hands wrapped around his dick, and contemplated on what to do next.

He could give his fans the same, teasing, in-control show. But right now all he wanted was to imagine being under you, having you ride him, tell him all the sweet things you usually do—except he would be feeling your pussy all around him… he just wanted to fuck his hand and pretend it’s you, then go to bed. That’s all that sounds good to him.

But before it gets so intense, he checks the chat.

Theclover: need ur fat cock daddy

Juyeon chuckled. “Oh, yeah, my big, fat cock… can you imagine it in your mouth? Is that what you want?” He threw his head back while touching himself, just to get himself harder. Thinking about you. First just about the way you smiled at him at the office, but secondly about the way you sounded when getting railed by Hyunjae. It’s sick. He’s imagining it’s him instead—as fucked up as that is. But it still got him super hard. “Do you want it choking you? If you can feel it in your throat—” He had to stop for a moment to grit his teeth, trying to shake the thoughts of you away. “I might want you too much, though. I might just fuck your throat… not letting you breathe… You’re not allowed to until you’ve swallowed all of my cum.”

The chat fills with requests to please fuck their throats and also breed them, and the tips rolled in one after one—which usually he’d thank, but he’s too preoccupied. The thought of you won’t leave.

Y/n smiled at me, he thought to himself as he kept stroking his cock. He can feel all the sparks in his neurons and the need to cum rising in him, more specifically to cum inside of you. Once again he imagined you riding him, he can perfectly imagine the roll of your hips on his cock, your moans which he easily took from mere hearing and transformed them to be for him, in his imagination—

“Y/n,” he moaned. It just slipped out of his mouth, and he tried to pass it off as an incoherent moan, but it had been your name, for sure.

And it gets him even more turned on, that he’s just so in the moment now, nothing stopping him. Your hips. Your hands. Touching him. Pretty little fingers, wrapping around his neck, restricting his breathing—although it was just a pretense, although you could never hurt him, you’re just so sweet.

“Y/n, fuck,” he says breathily. “Fuck, fuck—you’re so—so nice to me—you’re just—fuck, princess…” He’s sure they heard that, that he must be thinking about someone specific, and soon enough the comments want to know who.

Juyoxme: what name did he just say? O.o

Jumpinthelove: Juyo has a crushhhhh

He can’t pay attention to any of the comments, too caught up in the moment. In the habit of edging himself, he won’t let him cum, not until he has a vivid image of you. He imagines your body again, your breasts, how his two hands could just wrap around your little neck, how he would leave clawmarks on your skin, no matter how much he hated ruining something as perfect as you.

But finally when he cums, it’s to the image of you smiling, the real one in his memory. He hissed a curse. “Tell me how much you want it, you want my cum—ah, fuck…”

When he opens his eyes in clarity, the chat is going wild. He doesn’t even want to know what they’re saying, he just wants to go to bed. So he reaches over and tries to shut the live. “I think I gotta go, bye—”

“You want me to stay?” Juyeon says with a pout. “I can’t… I’m tired. I just… I just want to sleep. You guys can pretend I’m cuddling you, if you want.” he pulled one of the longer pillows he had, and hugged it to his chest, patting it like he was patting someone’s back. “Like this,” he says softly. “Imagine I’m cuddling you, okay?”

You breathed slowly, trying not to let your breath hitch, as if Juyeon could see you from inside your screen. You’re watching the stream from your living room, just out of habit because you never miss his Friday night streams–but you couldn’t get off to it, now that you knew the person behind the screen…

But now you’re watching the replay of the stream as you tried to collect yourself.

That was definitely your name he said. No one would be able to recognize it over the breathiness and the way he turned it into a full moan, but you did. You check the chat, and they get close to figuring out the name, figuring out what he said, but none of them really know the full extent of it.

The full extent to how he wants you.

So… your camboy crush wants you. And you know who he is. How do you tell him you want him back?

Tuesday, and Juyeon’s at work earlier than you. You feel the need to kick yourself when you walk past him without smiling, but hope that he just brushed it off and assume you were too preoccupied, not thinking there’s something wrong with him. You don’t even know what to say, because you want him, fuck, you wanted him, and he wants you too so why were you waiting?

Juyeon delivers the office’s coffees diligently, and you calculate your moves, shutting the blinds of the window to your room as soon as he’s in sight. Then, you wait as he makes his rounds around the office.

Your heart is beating out of your chest. You press a nail against your palm, trying to hold everything you’re feeling in, and there he is, past the door, shutting it behind him: “here’s yours, y/n!”

He can’t meet your eyes, which is typical for someone who’s literally been masturbating to you. You grab the coffee and ask him to stay, and in the lack of light from the closed window, he seemed a little lost. “Uh, why…”

You set the coffee down on the table. He’s sitting on the chair opposite your desk, and as you walk closer and closer towards him, he rolls the chair backwards, until he’s sandwiched between you and the wall.

He just stares up at you with wide eyes, and you can tell what he’s thinking: can people smell when you’ve masturbated to them?

“Juyeon,” you called.

“Y—” You kissed him. As soon as he realizes what’s happening, he pulls away, standing up. He pushes you away by grabbing your shoulders, simply resituating you far away from him. “What are you doing?” he demanded, as if he didn’t want you just as much.

Whatever you say you’re going to embarrass yourself, so you tell the truth: “I wanna fuck you.” Which is just the tip of the iceberg of truth, but…

“I just thought—” Juyeon stuttered out, “Hyunjae-hyung…?”

“I thought he told you,” you say, “we’re not serious.”

“He did, but… but it’s just—not right. I’m his brother. I can’t steal—”

“I’m not an object to be stolen,” you object.

He gathers himself, racking his brains for excuses. “Y/n, I just… I just…”

You’re confused, if he doesn’t want you why did he fuck himself saying your name all over the internet? And if he’s literally fucking himself to you then why doesn’t he want you the way you want him? “Juyeon,” you say, “You really don’t want to fuck me?”

He faltered. But he finally meets your eyes, with a new kind of determination in them. “No,” he says. “No, you’re—you’re so nice to me, and I don’t want to take advantage of your kindness—”

“You do realize in this scenario, I’m the one taking advantage of you?”

“Listen, Y/n, there’s… things you don’t know about me,” he finally admits, vaguely alluding to the facts. “There’s things I’m not proud of. I don’t like so many things about myself, it’s so complicated, and we just—we can’t. I don’t want another thing I’m not proud of.”

He wouldn’t be proud of fucking you? You sigh, clicking the button that raises the blinds, and push him away with one finger, and he falls through your gentle push like he’s crumbling. “I’m sorry,” he says finally.

You look at him with hooded eyes. “For what? I’m the one that’s sorry, I basically harassed you—”

“I don’t see it that way–it’s fine. I knew you from before working here, anyway.” He offered you a sheepish smile. “Can we just keep being friends? Like you and Hyunjae-hyung—I mean, like, without the…” he trailed off, then cleared his throat. He craned his neck over the glass window, looking at the rest of the office. “Um, they might need me.” And you watched him disappear into the crowd of the people in the office, going to lunch time in the cafeteria.

You don’t realize that he’s actually ashamed of what he does, or at least seems to be, until it’s the next Friday night and it’s time to stream again. Juyeon was proud of his channel, yes, but at the same time when it came to someone he found to be so perfect like you… he couldn’t admit it, or imagine himself with you—his lifestyle was just fucked.

So you watch his stream with a certain melancholia, just to see what he’s up to—it’s a habit to tune into his channel every Friday, even if you weren’t in the mood to masturbate.

“Hi guys… oh, ‘daddy’? Straight away? Am I daddy tonight?” Tonight he’s lighthearted and sweet—he’s been having a good streak at work, everyone loves him, he’s actually proud of himself. “Let’s talk for a bit while we wait for the others.”

The chat fills in with comment after comment talking about different things. Juyeon tries to reply to most of it.

“‘Juyo I’m lonely,’” he read from the comments, “aww, I get lonely sometimes, too—I miss my parents. But I don’t know, learning to live alone is just…” He made a ‘pop’ sound with his tongue. “You learn to live… ‘what else does that tongue do’? Well…”

Suddenly the chat is talking about his last stream, about the crush he fucked himself to. Juyeon gets shy as he reads the comments. At first he tries to deny it, but later he slips into telling the truth. “Ehhh, what are you talking about? I don’t have a crush!” turns into “I just like them so much because they’re so sweet to me…”

Comment after comment filled up asking about the crush, and he’s trying to avoid it all… but you suddenly get another nasty idea. A question. And you knew you had to make sure he sees it, so you tap at the tipping bar. And suddenly your name is flashing on screen.

Juy0sprincess [tipped $20]: what if that crush found out about your channel?

Juy0sprincess [tipped $30]: what would you feel?

Juyeon’s expression turned sour. “Of course, I don’t even want to think about that! They’re just so… kind, and beautiful and…” he sighed, looking the camera in the eye of its lens, and it’s like he’s looking straight into your own. “They would never understand why I do something like this.”

Leaving the stream running on your laptop, you grabbed your phone and drafted texts to Juyeon.

Hey Ju it’s Y/n

Um, actually can we talk

I have something to say

You delete everything once you’re about a good half into the sentence, never knowing what the right thing to say to him was. You didn’t want to embarrass him with the revelation that you knew what he did. There was no natural way to break it, you concluded, and decided to not mention it to him, at least for now.

And yet, your hands itched just wanting to text him. Wanting to build something between the two of you, more than friends, more than what you had with Hyunjae—you didn’t find what Juyeon did shameful or bad at all. You never saw him that way; instead… you saw him as a friend, even before you knew him—he was the only person that gave your lonely life a little light.

The side of Sunwoo’s heel met the ball, and it flew overhead, over the blockages and into the net. There were cheers from his teammates around him, but his attention immediately landed on the girls watching him from the bleachers. “Taking five, guys,” he told them, as he jogged over to the girls.

Sunwoo knew them well enough—well, he knew their names. Each of the names. Just didn’t know which name was whose. So he sits with the girls, sweating—usually they come prepared, with Starbucks in their laps, and offer it to him, but today, they’re giggling over their phones. Sunwoo doesn’t even pay attention until they call him.

“Sunwooooo. This is that stepbrother of yours, isn’t it?”

His eyes snapped to the screen, where the smut hadn’t started—it was just a video of a guy, camera panning just up to his lips, but it was obvious what kind of site it was, and what he was going to do.

“He jerks off into a camera,” says another girl, “for money. It’s—it’s him, isn’t it, Sunwoo?”

“I thought I recognized his voice,” says the third girl of the group.

Speechless, Sunwoo takes the phone from them, examining the visuals of the camboy. Normally he wouldn’t even be able to tell, but…

Those lips, that pout. The dark shrouded room, but he knew it well enough to match it to the one back home. It’s obviously Juyeon.

But he denies it. “Don’t think it is,” he snapped. “Just don’t go around sharing it everywhere—you have no proof.” He ran back into the field, desperate to escape the scrutiny and the stares. But once he’s back on the training ground, he misses all the shots he takes.

Hyunjae’s not home. The house is completely silent, but Sunwoo knows Juyeon didn’t have his internship on Fridays, and although his room was quiet, it was only because of all the soundproofing.

Sick bastard, he snarled to himself. He should have known from the urgent need to soundproof—since when had his brother been doing this?

He barged into the room, where Juyeon was just lying on the bed on his phone. “Getting yourself off?!” he says demandingly, and Juyeon looks up, surprised. “What–”

“You’re making yourself a career camming,” Sunwoo accused. “Don’t fucking say no—I saw your room, idiot!”

“No, it’s—” Juyeon stumbled around on his words, panic setting all over his head. “It’s a misunderstanding,” he insisted.

“Do you know how embarrassing it is, that I have to play in front of everyone in a stadium and half of them know what my brother is?” Sunwoo sneered at his face, and Juyeon crumbled underneath the boy’s stern eyes.

“I—” he starts to speak. “I’m sorry.�� He did try his best to not show his face, not let it leak—it affected him more than anybody else, of course he didn’t want it.

Sunwoo sighed. “This is fucked.”

Juyeon quickly pulled out his phone and checked the website, where he saw a few comments, doxxing him: that’s Lee Juyeon, he goes to SNU. He immediately deleted the comment off the site, but didn’t know how to handle more.

“What are you going to do if mom finds out?” Sunwoo probed. “Or Hyunjae.”

“They can’t!” Juyeon suddenly grew desperate to get out of this situation. If only he could turn back time and stop people from finding him…

“How much do you make?” Sunwoo started to ask, which Juyeon didn’t hear.

Sunwoo sighed, as if trying to be patient. Then, he says: “give me some of your money.”

Juyeon suddenly turned to his youngest brother. “What?!”

“You make a shit ton camming, don’t you? I’ve watched enough girls to know you do.”

“I don’t—” Juyeon stuttered, but no sound came out.

“Just give me a share,” Sunwoo demanded. “Or mom and Hyunjae finds out, I swear.”

Juyeon felt defeated, but he slowly reached for his wallet, where he had taken out a good amount of his balance, just for him to spend for the month. “Is… 400 okay?”

Sunwoo laughed. “More than okay! You got more, though?”

Juyeon showed him the emptiness of the bottom of his wallet, but Sunwoo was unsatisfied. “You gotta have more. What is it, online banking? Show my cashapp some love.”

“Sun—”

“I’ll tell mom,” Sunwoo says, a threat this time. “Can you imagine if she found out? She’d disown you. Kick you out of this apartment. Where would you go then, Cinderella boy?”

Juyeon just looked forlornly at the balance of his online bank, and Sunwoo snatched the phone from the older boy himself, and transferred it away into his own.

Juyeon tried to protest, but couldn’t fathom anything coherent. He was fucked this way, anyway.

“Tell me when you stream again,” Sunwoo says as he snaps Juyeon’s phone shut. “I want a share, too.” Then he was out the door, which Juyeon didn’t notice until he heard the slam of it.

He just sat on his bed for a long time, stuck between a rock and a hard place. He didn’t know what to do for the rest of his streaming career. He couldn’t just keep giving everything he makes to Sunwoo.

But if people found out, he would lose his job working for you, and that would hurt the most—disappointing you and losing you, not getting to see you weekly…

Fishing in his pockets, Juyeon found the money you had given him for coffee. He didn’t buy one when you offered it to him, because he wanted to keep the bill. And frame it. No one’s ever been so nice to him before…

He lay on his bed, the note in his palm, and reached out to cup it in his hands every now and then, to remind himself that there was still some good in the world. With Sunwoo taking his money, he was furthest away from his dream of moving out than ever. Before he knew it, he was crying. He hated feeling not good enough for you, he hated that he was so vulnerable, never having the upper hand, always having to listen to what other people demanded of him, like he didn’t even have a mind of his own.

Juyeon pulls out his phone a second time, and, in lightning-fast clicks, deletes his channel, quickly typing in his password to confirm. And then he was out.

Juyo wasn’t there anymore.

Tell me what you want to see in part 2 maybe? <33333 thanks for reading I thank you from the bottom of the bottom of the bottom of the bottom of the bottom. Of my. liver.

#the boyz imagines #the boyz x reader #tbz fic #tbz imagines #juyeon x reader #juyeon smut #juyeon imagines #juyeon scenarios #juyeon angst

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starlightxsvt · 3 years

Text

Home | k.mg

pairing ➳ businessman!mingyu x female!reader

genre ➳ strangers to lovers, romance, slice of life, angst, fluff, gets spicy at the end

word count ➳ 5.6k (apx)

warnings ➳ cursing, reader is really indecisive, heavy makeout, implications of sexual activity.

synopsis ➳ an attractive stranger visits your cabin for a week with whom you quickly bond, developing some strong feelings in the process; leaving you to wonder if he's worth leaving everything behind.

A/N: henlooo~ I finally posted! This has been sitting in my drafts for a while but I didn't really feel like writing for a while, hence the delay. I hope y'all enjoy this piece and please don't forget to leave some feedback! It really motivates me :)

A cool gust of wind blew by as you finished typing your last column, leaving a soothing feeling behind as you exhaled loudly. It was hard to finish this piece of writing for some reason, maybe because you lacked inspiration or maybe because your life had been monotonous for a while or simply, a mix of both. Closing your laptop you stretch your hands and legs, feeling somewhat productive. Humming a tune, you looked out the window to see a Lamborghini come to a halt at the entrance.

It piqued your interest because it's not often that people riding Lamborghini come in this cabin so genuinely you're interested in the visitor. You shifted in your chair, waiting for the man to come upstairs to the reception and sure enough a tall- really tall man dressed in a neatly pressed suit appears into your view, briskly walking towards the reception where Chan stood to greet him. You could not get a good look at his face as he moved around quickly, grabbing his small carry on and heading towards his cabin after the formalities.

You watched his tall frame walking away as you got up from your seat and moved towards Chan.

"Who is he?"

"Kim Mingyu," Chan explained, resting his arms on the reception table." A millionaire, owns a lot of companies. No wonder he looked familiar."

"Oh, really? How long is he staying?"

"He has booked for five days. Said he might extend his stay."

"I see."

"Why are you so curious though?" Chan raised a brow at you, tilting his head to a side.

"Nothing." You shrugged. "He just has different vibes than the other people that come here you know?"

Chan hummed in agreement.

There was never much visitors during the rainy season which was both a blessing and a curse. Blessing because that meant the cabin was less hectic and curse because sometimes you are bound to get a bit too bored. You were helping yourself with a cup of tea to somewhat feel re-energised when your newest and the only guest for the week appeared from his cabin, padding through the corridor and stepping into the common kitchen area. You were taken aback for a moment before you composed yourself and smiled at your guest, "Good morning, Mr. Kim. May I help you with anything?"

"Mingyu, please," the tall male replied while scanning the kitchen area. "You're the owner right? What's the food arrangement here?"

"Well, our guests generally cook for themselves or order takeout. When there are many guests I sometimes do the cooking."

Nodding, he hummed before putting in a capsule in the cappuccino machine. You took a seat by the window, tea in your hand as you watched the male move around like he knew this place. Dressed in his pajamas and judging by the fluffy mess that his hair was you assumed he had a good night's sleep.

"I hope you had a pleasant night, Mr- Mingyu." You said to your guest who had whipped out a pan from the cupboard and was making omelette. "Yes, surprisingly so. Normally I have trouble falling asleep but I slept like a baby last night," he casually conversed as he prepared his breakfast.

You smiled, "Well, I'm glad to know that. If you need anything let my staffs or me know."

"Sure. Oh- I didn't get your name though." Mingyu turned to meet your eyes.

"___," you smiled.

"___, okay."

"This is gonna be a rainy week," Hoshi said from behind you as he stood holding a tub of fresh soil for the plants in the backyard of the cabin. You sat on your knees, eyeing the plants which needed their soil changed.

"Yeah? Well, good thing there isn't much guests now."

"I think there should be, I mean it's so pretty here during the rain too. People need to look at it themselves." Hoshi complained.

"Well, most people don't like going out in the rain. Pass me the soil, Hoshi. Let's get this finished before the shower starts."

Hoshi handed you the tub of soil as the sky above started growling, full of thick black clouds. It was gonna start raining soon.

Hoshi spoke, "Oh, Mr.Kim, Mingyu you know, asked me about the beach by the marketplace. Apparently he wants to visit so he asked me if I was free to show him around."

"And let me guess, you aren't?" You rolled your eyes.

Soonyoung pouted, "No! Well I would have given him a tour today if the weather wasn't so bad. And my friends are coming tomorrow, so I'll be busy then."

"Wait- you're friends are coming?" You turned, glaring at the boy who smiles sheepishly, "Oh! Um- I didn't tell you? Well they're only staying for a couple of days and it's not like they're staying for free."

"Well, make sure they clean after themselves okay? If I see them trashing all over the place like last time, I'm kicking you out with them." You gave him a pointed look.

"Okay okay," Hoshi rolled his eyes, puffing his cheeks. "Just- take the CEO out on a tour tomorrow for me okay? I haven't seen my friends in a long time."

"Alright, I will...if the weather is good which probably won't be." You sighed, gently removing the old soil.

Hoshi mused about Mingyu, "Bummer for him, he came in a wrong time. It's weird, no? We don't have such guests like him."

"Yeah," you hummed, focused on handling your roses.

Hoshi's friend, Seokmin and Seungkwan appeared early in the morning next day as you watched Hoshi vibrate from happiness when he hugged them. You smiled to yourself, laughing at at the antics of your staff as you saw him guide his friends into their cabin. The day was once again filled with dark clouds and raining which occurred every other hour. You and Chan cleaned up and completed some chores as the noon fell.

"Should I cook something up for them?" You wondered as Chan finished cleaning the common space of the first cabin.

"Nah, Seokmin hyung is cooking for them. He's a pretty good cook actually."

"Really? That's nice." You said pulling up a chair to sit down. "Are you gonna join them? Hoshi has been with his friends since they came."

"Yeah, probably. You should join us too."

"No, I think I'm gonna take a nap. I feel so tired."

"Alright."

You watched as Chan climbed down the stairs and stepped towards the second cabin where everyone else was. You were about to head to your room when the CEO, Mingyu appeared in the kitchen.

"Oh, hello."

"Hi."

"I haven't seen you since morning," you said watching as Mingyu poured himself a glass of water.

"Yeah, I woke up early today, went for a jog."

"Ah, I see."

"Couldn't go far though, the weather sucks you know." He said leaning against the kitchen top.

"Yeah. But I heard that it should get better from tomorrow. I could show you around if you want to. Hoshi, my staff, is going to busy for a while so I can guide you around."

"Really? That would be cool." Mingyu smiled. There was a small stretch of silence as you both listened to the rainfall before he spoke, "Have you had lunch?"

"Uh-no."

"Would you like to join me?" He asked "This is the longest time I've been alone and it feels a bit weird," he murmured more to himself than you.

"I mean- I don't mind," you shrugged. "Though I should be the one doing it."

"It's okay. People say I am a good cook," Mingyu smiled, his eyes crinkling.

"Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to see."

It was weird how comfortable you felt watching Mingyu being clumsy and bump into things as he prepared your meal. It felt like you've been doing this forever- like you've known him forever and you thought to yourself what was suddenly wrong with you. He made small talk as he cooked and it felt easy talking with him- almost impossible to believe that he was stranger. He was friendly and easy to get along with, definitely not a cold and grumpy businessman like you imagined him to be.

Mingyu grinned as he set down the food in front of you- chicken soup, rice and cheese omelette. His eyes twinkled excitedly as he watched you take a bite, waiting for you to say something.

"What are you? A part time chef or something?" You tried not to moan as you chewed because it was that good. Mingyu laughed- a sweet, shy laugh that had his canines showing and his eyes forming crescents. "Thank you. I learned from my mom. I like cooking for myself when I get the time which is not often," he smiled- almost sadly.

"Well, you can cook for me all you want as long as you're here because this is amazing!" You grinned at him, cheeks puffed with food.

Mingyu chuckled softly as he dug in and you both started eating. It felt nice, to talk to someone new and spend time with them, someone other than Chan or Hoshi. It was a nice change- a change you probably needed for a while.

"So...What brings you here?" You asked as you finished your food, setting down the spoon and leaning back into the chair. Mingyu who was still eating, looked at you with a perplexed expression so you spoke, "I mean...we don't generally have guests like you. And it's not even a good time to visit...so I was wondering what brought you here?"

"Guests like me? What does that mean?"

"I mean...rich, okay?" You fumbled, feeling awkward. Maybe you shouldn't have asked. "Like...there are fancier places to visit, you know..."

Mingyu smiled at your words for a moment before he deadpanned, "I'm running away."

"Running away?" You gasped, almost jumping from your seat, "From who? The cops?"

"It would have been better but no, my family," he said, his voice as serious as ever.

"Oh...I see," you fell quiet. It definitely wasn't the answer you expected. You both remained silent for a while as he started out the window, lost in thoughts. "It must have been really bad if you're hiding out here." You spoke softly.

"It has always been," he mumbled. "I just couldn't take it anymore, you know? I desperately needed a break," he spoke more to himself than you. Instead of prodding further, you sat quietly, watching him and listening to his words. Seeing him now, he definitely looks troubled and you didn't exactly have the words to console him.

So you whispered, "Well, I hope it gets better."

Later that night, you find Hoshi and his friends and Chan preparing for a bonfire in the front yard of the cabin.

"Wow, you all are really having fun, no?" You said as you fisted your hands in your pockets from the chilly weather. The air was colder than other nights and everyone including you had put on some warm clothes.

"You wanna join us?" Seokmin asked as he stacked logs on top of each other.

"Nah, it's fine. You four carry on," you patted his back as you started walking back towards the cabin and saw Chan and Hoshi coming out with some boxes in their hands.

"Hey! There are marshmallows in the kitchen cabinet if you want.... nevermind," you finished as you saw beer cans and soju bottles in their hands.

"We're gonna get drunk baby!" Soonyoung yelled, grinning like a fool.

"Hyung, you look drunk already," Chan gave him a side look as they trudged towards the bonfire.

Laughing at their antics you climbed the stairs to the kitchen, preparing some hot chocolate for yourself. Holding the mug on one hand you knocked on the door to Mingyu's room, checking up on him since you haven't seen him since lunch.

The door opened revealing Mingyu in a baggy shirt and pajamas, his hair fluffy and messy.

"Hey," you chriped. "Wanted to check up on you. You wanna join the others in the bonfire?"

"Nah, I'm good. I've been watching them from the balcony." He smiled, his pointy canines showing.

"Oh, I see."

"You wanna come in? I've been getting lonely." He offered, moving away from the door to make space for you.

"Uh- I don't mind," you murmured, surprised that he asked you to come in. You tentatively stepped in and it was fair to say that you were surprised to see the room neat and pristine as most guests kept their room messy.

He ushered you into the balcony, which had a great view of your yard and the forest behind. You saw others laughing loudly as Soonyoung acted something out. Mingyu's voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

"You didn't join them?"

"Nah, they can get too loud sometimes," you chuckled, taking a seat on the bench. You eyed an empty mug lying by, guessing that Mingyu already had his fill of hot chocolate.

Mingyu took a seat beside you, stretching his legs and sighing as he mused, "The view is great."

You hummed your agreement. It was indeed. Not only did you have the full view of your yard and the forest, but you could see a vast horizon of the night sky, some stars twinkling through the clouds.

"It's even more beautiful during summer. You can see so many stars that it feels unreal." You told him.

"Then I will try to visit again during summer," he smiled and you were not sure if he was serious or joking. However you replied with a smile, "You're always welcome."

A silence falls among you two after that but it's not uncomfortable, as you both watched the night grow and Soonyoung and his friends got louder.

"Things got really hard for me, you know," Mingyu started speaking, his voice soft as he stared at the mesh of trees ahead. You were somewhat surprised at his words, but you didn't interrupt, opting for him to continue.

"Running a million dollar company was never easy but...it suddenly was unbearable. My parents always interfered in my work and how I run the company but I managed through all of that, really...until..." Mingyu heaved a long sigh, abruptly stopping.

"Until?" You tentatively asked, peeking at him.

"They want me to get married. With the daughter of their business partner. A marriage of convenience, really."

Oh.

You fell silent, watching him as the moonlight dimly lit the side of his face. There wasn't enough light to see his face completely, but enough to see the curve of his face, his sharp jawline and the sad, lost look in his eyes. Your heart suddenly ached for him. Silently you patted his shoulder, conjuring up some words to console him.

"That's ...awful, really. I'm sorry."

"I've never been so mad in my whole life. Can't they just leave me alone? They treat me like a puppet, like my only job is to live for them. I'm so done. " He said, his hands forming fists.

There's a beat of silence as you quietly patted his back and watched your friends get wasted by the bonfire before he chuckled softly, "I'm sorry for dumping all these on you. I just couldn't hold them in you know-"

"It's really fine, Mingyu. I don't mind. It would be nice if I could actually help you," you sighed, retracting your hand.

"Trust me, you are," he said and you caught a smile on his face.

"I suppose you don't have a significant other? Someone you could talk to freely?"

He shook his head. "That is why I came here. Needed to get my thoughts together, away from them. Not to mention I don't remember the last time I went on a vacation."

"And have you got your thoughts together?"

"I think so, yeah." He shrugged.

"What are you gonna do?" You asked tilting your head.

"Stand strong in my ground, I guess. There's no way I'm marrying their business partner, I'd rather die. And if all else fails, I'm staying here. I'm sure you have some type of job for me, right?"

You laughed at his words, "Maybe. But I'm not sure about your skills, Mr. Kim."

"Oh I'm a fast learner, Miss ___."

You both grinned at each other.

That night when you went back to your room, your thoughts were plagued by Mingyu and you could swear you saw him in your dreams too.

The next morning is brighter and shinier; the sky relatively clear other than some light clouds. After getting dressed and checking up on Hoshi and Chan who were still sleeping, you trudged through the cabin and towards Mingyu's room, before knocking on it. A fully dressed Mingyu appeared, clad in a white polo and jeans, his hair styled messily. He looked effortlessly attractive, making your heart skipp a few beats.

Damn it, what was wrong with you?

"Hi," you almost missed a breath, your face flushed with warmth.

"Oh, hey. I was about to come to you. I believe you were to show me around." Mingyu grinned, his pointy canines showing.

"And that is what I'm here for, Mr. Kim."

"Great! Let's get going. We'll take my car."

After showing Mingyu around for a couple of hours, you both ended up at the beach by the marketplace, sitting on the sand next to each other. The weather was nice; not too hot, not too cold as a light breeze flew by occasionally. Though you could see some black clouds gathering above, it wasn't to rain until evening if the forecast was correct.

"This place is so pretty," Mingyu mused, making you smile.

"I know right. The weather is great too."

You both watched the waves crash to the shore, occasionally wetting your feet as you both relaxed on the sand. There was a silence, a comfortable one as you finished eating the corndog you bought from the market earlier with some groceries. As you finished the last bite, Mingyu turned to face you and asked, "Tell me about yourself."

"What?" A squeak of surprise escaped from you.

"I shared a lot about myself last night. It's only fair I get to know about you too."

"Well..." You pondered. "There isn't much to tell. I've a pretty dull life, unlike you."

Mingyu chuckled, shaking his head, "Does the cabin belong to your parents? Is it like a family business type of thing?"

"No, not really," you smiled softly. "My parents are dead. The cabin belonged to my grandfather."

"Oh- I'm sorry."

"No it's okay. They passed away in an accident when I was a kid so I don't remember them much." You spoke, watching the sea, "My grandparents raised me. Growing up I've spent a lot of time in the cabin and when my grandfather retired he handed the job to me."

"Are they alive? Your grandparents?" He asked tentatively.

You shook your head, "Grandpa passed away a couple years ago and it's been a few months since grandma did too."

"I'm sorry, you must've been lonely," Mingyu offered, his voice soft.

You shrugged, "Yeah, like I said, nothing interesting going on in my life."

Mingyu hummed noncommittally and there was a few moments of silence before he spoke again, "Was managing the cabin something you have always wanted to do?"

You were quiet for a while as you thought over the question, "No...not really. I've just kept doing the job I was handed to. I haven't really thought about what I want to do."

"Well...I think you should hire a manager in your place and maybe...I don't come to the city and make friends, see what calls for you."

"Yeah, I've thought about it. But I don't know really." You murmured.

"Well, give it some thought. I could help you find a manager. In fact, I could help promote and upgrade your cabin if you'd let me. It'll be a good investment."

You laughed softly, not taking his words too seriously. He was just a guest. He was probably just being nice.

A gust of strong wind flew by, ruining your hair as it poked into your eyes and you laughed when your eyes landed on Mingyu.

"What?"

His hair was sticking in different directions because of the wind and you shook your head with a smile as you reached to pat the hairs back into place. It happened naturally, before you could stop yourself. For a moment your eyes meet as you quickly retract your hand, face heated.

Something was definitely wrong with you.

Mingyu's gaze stayed at you for a while; you could feel his intense eyes on you and you thought maybe he didn't like you touching him. Before your thoughts ran more rampant, he spoke.

"___?"

"Y-yes?"

"Do you...Do you have a home?"

"Home?" You were confused.

"Yes, home. Not like a real house but like a... person. Someone who makes you feel at ease, someone with whom you can be yourself without judgements, someone who keeps you cozy and safe and loved...like a home."

Somewhat taken aback by his words, you fell silent but their depth hit you and you found yourself thinking about it. Do you have a home?

No. No, you don't.

You shook your head, murmuring, "No."

Mingyu nodded taking his eyes off you.

"What about you?" You asked.

"Me neither."

You smiled, "Figures. Because if you had someone you wouldn't have run here but went to them."

Mingyu smiled, a sad smile gracing his lips. It was a somewhat bitter truth, he hadn't found his home no matter how much he looked for it. Maybe that's what he was doing wrong, looking desperately.

"Let's get going. It has started to rain," Your voice dragged him out of his thoughts as he felt small drops of water fall on his face. You reached your hand out to him and he took it, standing up. As you both jogged towards Mingyu's car, your hands remained connected, no one bothering to let go.

That night you had dinner with Mingyu again but this time it was you who did the cooking. After enjoying dinner over small talk, Mingyu like the gentleman he is did the dishes as you poured some wine for the two of you.

Sitting on the small table in common space by the window, you both watched the clear sky that had appeared after the shower. You sipped your wine, watching the vast expanse of stars that blinked in the dark sky.

"I think I've to go back tomorrow," Mingyu suddenly whispered, his tone so low you almost thought you misheard him. A bolt out the blue, you looked at him.

"Tomorrow?"

"Mmhmm," he fiddled with the hem of his cardigan as he stared at the table. "I've got so many calls and messages from work. My company won't run on its on, I can be gone for only so long." He sighed.

You didn't offer any words, too shocked to know that he'd be gone tomorrow. What is this attachment you've developed towards him? Why did the thought of someone, almost a stranger going back to where he came from, where he belonged hurt you so much? You didn't know what to label your feelings but realizing that you'd probably never see him again was tugging at your heartstrings.

Should you ask him for his number and stay connected with him? Is there even a point in that? You both live miles away from each other. Or should just take his advice and follow him to the city? Would that even be a good idea? Are you just reading all this wrong?

You were so invested in your thoughts that you didn't realize Mingyu was calling you until he shook your shoulder.

"You okay, ___?"

"Huh? Yeah...it's just, the news is really sudden. I didn't... expect you'd return so soon." You mumbled.

Mingyu sighed, his shoulder dropping a little bit. "Trust me, if I could I'd stay here forever. But...I can't keep running. I need to face my parents, the sooner the better."

At a loss of what to say, you just nodded. Reaching for your drink you took a big gulp, trying to calm your nerves. It's okay, you can do this. He's just another one of your guests.

You stood up, taking the empty glass in your hand, "Well, I better leave you alone now. I'm sure you've got packing to do."

You almost turned away; until a strong hand gripped your wrist and pulled you back, making you stumble towards Mingyu's body.

"Don't. Stay for a while. I don't want you to leave." His voice was soft yet deep and it immediately broke your resolve as you set the glass down and looked into his eyes.

He didn't let go of your wrist; instead only wrapped his other hand around your waist, pulling you closer, leaving just a few inches between your faces. You didn't tell him to move neither did you make any effort to get away from him- you didn't want to. It felt good, comforting as he held you and looked at you almost like you were his whole world. His eyes had so much emotion swirling in them and you were sure yours looked the same too.

"___?" His voice was breathy and it set your heart aflame.

"Y-yes?"

"Can I...kiss you?"

You inhaled sharply as his hold on you got tighter. You couldn't process a reply, overwhelmed with emotion. So you just nodded and Mingyu leaned in, pressing his lips to yours.

It was soft at first, his lips just resting against yours, as if he was testing the waters. When you didn't resist but only pulled him closer, he started devouring you, his tongue prodding in your wet cavern. Moans espaced from you as you kept pulling at his hair almost grinding on him, desperate for more. He was the same, kissing you with so much passion and vigour like you were the last female standing.

You somehow managed to tug off his cardigan between the kiss and when you pulled apart for air, Mingyu panted, "Can we take this to the bedroom?"

His deep raspy voice spread liquid heat throughout your body and you had to stop yourself from pouncing on him.

"Yes please," you breathed. Mingyu stood up straight, his tall and built body intimidating you in the best ways possible, "Oh baby, you don't have to beg. I'll give you anything you want."

Once again your breath was trapped as he picked you up, his hand under your ass to support you. When he dropped you on his bed and took off his tee you realized you were in for a long night. In the back of your mind, you also realized that this would make it even harder to let him go.

Next morning you were the first one to wake up as the sun barely seeped through the blinds. If you had to guess it wasn't any more than six am. Mingyu's hand rested on your waist as he remained snuggled against your back. It was so comforting that you almost forgot your reality and went back to sleep, until you remembered what had happened last night. Before you could start overthinking and possibly had a breakdown right there, you ever so carefully removed his hand from your body and scrawled out of the bed, grabbing your shirt and quickly throwing it on. Then you tiptoped out of his room despite the ache between your legs and rushed straight towards yours.

Slamming the door shut, your sat down, head in your hands. You've to now prepare for saying goodbye. Right, you just need to act casual and not let him know that you might have developed feelings for him in the past week.

His words came back to you.

"Do you have a home?"

You didn't have one until now but the realization that you may have found it brought tears to your eyes.

You spent the next hours wallowing in your self pity, curled up in your bed too afraid to get out and face Mingyu. Soonyoung dropped by once, knocking at your door and asking if you want breakfast, which you declined. Time slowly ticked away and you watched as the clock struck eleven. You couldn't stay inside forever. You needed to bid Mingyu a goodbye- that is if he hadn't left already. But you were sure he didn't; he wouldn't just leave without any words.

Sighing, you gathered every last bit of your courage and stepped out of your room. Immediately you saw Mingyu coming out from the opposite end of the corridor, the carry-on he brought with him in his hand.

"Hey, where have you been?" He asked, his steps getting quicker to come and stand in front of you.

"Oh- um, I took and shower and then dozed off, sorry," you lied easily, not meeting his eyes.

There was a beat of silence as you both stood in front of each other and when your eyes finally met his, a blush spread across his face like wildfire. The air was heavy with unsaid words and you coughed, trying to get rid of the terrible awkwardness.

"So, you're leaving now?"

What a nice question.

Mingyu seemed to be lost in thoughts as he snapped back to reality and scratched the back of his head, "Oh yeah, right. It'll be a couple hours drive so the earlier I leave the better."

Nodding you motioned your hand towards the exit, "I'll see you out."

Mingyu seemed to have something to say but he pressed his lips in a thin line and started to climb down the stairs, you behind him. Soonyoung, who was standing at the entrance gave you a conspirational wiggle of his brows but said nothing as he watched you follow Mingyu out.

You observed as Mingyu loaded his bag in the trunk, peeking glances at you every other second. When he finished, you spoke, "Well...good luck. I hope you can overcome your problems."

"Thanks. It won't be easy and my dad will probably take away my shares of the company but...I'm done living like this."

You nodded, smiling softly as you crossed your arms against your chest. It suddenly felt cold.

You both gazed at each other, saying nothing even though you've so much to say, as if the silence would carry your unsaid words to him. You were torn- wanting to talk about last night but chickening out knowing it was probably just a fling, a one night stand for him.

"___..." Mingyu spoke but the words died on his tongue. Not trusting yourself to speak, you swallwed the ball of emotions and looked at him with a curious tilt of head.

"...I hope you find what you really want to do. And I hope you find your home too," he said, his words so soft and gentle. For some reason you had a feeling that those were not the words he wanted to say yet you forced a smile and nodded, "You too, Mingyu."

His eyes swirled with so my emotions but you didn't know what he was thinking. He looked pained, just like you but you were too afraid to speak your feelings, scared that you misread him.

When you spoke no more, Mingyu sighed and backstopped slowly, "Well... goodbye, then."

You managed to choke out the words, "Goodbye."

Your emotions overwhelmed you, tears stinging your eyes as you watched him enter his car. Why did it hurt so much? Why did it feel like your heart was being ripped right out of your chest?

His engine roared to life and your stomach sunk. Was this really the right thing to do? Should you just let him go like this?

You made a split second decision that moment, just as his car moved forward a little.

"Mingyu!" You called after him, immediately making him stop the car. He came out, almost in a hurry, an expectant look on his face as you ran towards him. Then you made another split second decision as you wrapped your arms around his tall frame and held tight.

"I like you, Mingyu. I really like you." You mumbled in his chest.

He didn't say anything back but you felt his arms wrapping around you tightly and you stood there in each others embrace for a while. It felt like time has stopped, the warmth and safety of his arms comforting you and making you realize how you would have regretted if you had let him go.

Mingyu pulled back to take a look at your face, his hand cupping your cheeks, his warm but intense eyes on you, shining with love and adoration.

"Say something," you whispered, still unsure.

He chuckled, a light-hearted, carefree sound that made your heart swoon. "I like you too, if it wasn't obvious after last night."

Elated, you pulled his face down and kissed his lips as you felt him grin and wrap his arms around you once again.

"I want to go with you...to the city," you murmured into his chest as he rested his chin on the top of your head.

You couldn't see it but you felt him smirk, "Good. Because I think I found my home."

Your heart couldn't become fuller as you grinned like a happy child.

"Me too."

A/N 2: If you enjoyed reading don't forget to like and reblog and let me know your thoughts!

#seventeen #seventeen fic #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfic #seventeen smut #seventeen au #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #svt imagines #svt fluff #svt scenarios #svt fic #svt smut #kim mingyu #seventeen mingyu #svt mingyu #svt fake texts

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after-witch · 3 years

Text

Close to My Heart [Baby Mine Part 3] [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Title: Close to My Heart [Baby Mine Part 3] [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Synopsis: He’s drugging you again. The bastard.

Word Count:

Notes: yandere, stockholm syndrome, medical/drug content

He’s drugging you again. The bastard. The world is too much--too bright, too empty, too heavy and thick. The drugs he’s giving you make you sleepy, slow, heavy.

And the room you’re in is so empty. Bare walls and a bed and an overhead light. The familiarity--scenes of years ago, of weeks spent in a room just like this one--is gutting. You miss the side table next to your bed with your books and notepad; you miss glancing into your daughter’s bedroom before walking downstairs to get a glass of water in the middle of the night. You miss your daughter.

You don’t know how long these things have been gone, only that they are gone, leaving you with nothing in their stead.

Nothing but him, anyway.

He’s sitting on the end of your bed again. Staring down at you, mask on, eyes piercing even through the heaviness surrounding you. Your arms aren’t restrained anymore, but every time you move, it’s clear why he isn’t bothering: with all the drowsy-inducing sedatives built up in your system, you couldn’t muster an effective attack even if you tried.

And you’ve tried.

“How are you feeling?”

The same questions, every morning.

You press your lips together and smack them. Your throat is dry. You hope he brought your water cup. It’s the least he could do.

“Where’s my daughter?” You say, finally, voice dry and hoarse.

He doesn’t miss a beat.

“She’s safe. How are you feeling?”

“Let me see her.”

He shakes his head, a small, imperceptible motion.

“Not until you’re better. How are you feeling?”

His voice never loses its smooth, authoritative edge. You can’t say you missed this, missed the way he talked down to you like you were some weak little thing that doesn’t know right from wrong.

You lean back on your elbows, forcing your head to lift up enough to look him in the eyes. You try to muster an expression of disdain, but you don’t know if it’s registering anywhere but your own mind.

“Like shit. Fuck you, by the way.” You can’t help but take the tiniest bits of satisfaction where you can, and it doesn’t matter that your voice is hoarse and your arms are trembling and that you’re drugged to shit, because it gets a reaction fro him.

A small reaction, but still. His lips purse in a frown.

“Dear,” he says, oh-so-disappointed. “Your language.”

You let your arms give way, falling back against the pillow with a laugh that hurts your chest. Potty mouth, you think, I’m such a potty mouth. What did you read one time, some novel set in the American Midwest--better put a dollar in the swear jar.

“Stop being difficult.”

You snort.

Your head stays where it is, eyes following him as he retrieves a tray he set on the only other piece of furniture in the room: a bolted down chair, padded like a marshmallow. You’ve been tempted to point it out, tempted to ask him if he thinks you’ll try to smash your head open on a normal chair--why not pad your bed then, too? But he might just stick you in a straightjacket or something equally restricting if you so much as make a joke about harming yourself, so you don’t.

A rumbling, empty feeling in your stomach, the scratchiness of your dry throat, destroys any temptation to goad him more. He’s not above making you wait for food if you’re being testy, though you don’t think he’d go so far as to actually starve you. Just deprive you a bit, like he has a few times this week. So you force yourself to simply sit quietly and watch as he brings the tray to your bed, unfolding the little legs and placing it down in front of you.

He lifts up the cup of lukewarm water, a large blue cup you recognize from the kitchen. The little white straw peaking out of the top bounces around until you catch it with your lips. You barely listen to his words--’just a few sips, dear’--and try to ignore the tight, tingly feeling all this gives you.

Prickling humiliation, vaguely colored with childhood memories of hospital stays that made you feel helpless and alone, washes over you every time he gives you something to eat or drink. He always insists on holding the cup, on making you use a thin plastic straw--small sips only. He cuts up your food into tiny bites and only gives you a plastic spoon to eat with.

You dimly remember him feeding you thin broth some time ago, spoon knocking against your teeth every time you moved your head; but that was when your sedative dose was higher and stronger and you were so conked out of your mind that you kept calling him a doctor.

But you’ve graduated to rice and overcooked, bland vegetable that you can eat with a spoon. You know who he is, all the time, which honestly makes things a bit worse than when your stuffy mind thought he was someone else. Hooray.

Your fingers tremble as you press your spoon against the lumpy mash of vegetables. You can’t decide if he’s overcooking them on purpose or if he simply stinks at cooking now, having surely been years out of practice. They look even lumpier than normal, covered in a thick sauce; you bite down the urge to snarkily ask him if the sodium content from such a sauce is appropriate for your delicate health.

You’ve been his little home chef for how long now? Whipping up desserts and dinners like it was your profession. Whipping them up with a smile. And, before the birth of your daughter changed everything, whipping them up with a bright anxiety brimming underneath--anxiety for his approval. Did he like it? Was it too salty? The rice was cooked fine, wasn’t it?

And it wasn’t just the food, no. You’d wanted to please him in everything. In the way you cleaned, in the way you dressed, in the way you tried to soothe him after he’d clearly had a rough day while you sat at home, comparatively comfortable, reading books or fussing with the kitchen curtains again.

But true, honest (disgusting, dark, deep-seated) thoughts of pleasing him have been the furthest thing from your mind for years now. You allowed only the vainest of surface pleasantries to remain, for the sake of pretense, for the sake of getting away with the loving act long enough to get the two of you as far away as possible. Long enough to see yourself and your daughter free and happy, creating a new life--somewhere. Anywhere.

Well, look at you now.

A tear drips down onto your tray, running past your lips, warm and salty. The sight of the tear mingled with the smushed vegetables does it, brings you over the edge, and your shoulders shake helplessly as you begin to cry. You can already feel the exhaustion sweeping over you--the mere act of sitting up and crying and feeling something, feeling something so sad, means you’ll be out like a light soon. Your emotions feel so muted lately--the sedatives?--and when you do feel them, it’s so, so tiring.

His gloved hand brushes your cheek, brushes at your tear, and flinch away. You stare at the floor, white, bare. Rugs are a tripping hazard, you assume. Or maybe he wants to drive you crazy with all the light colors, the creams and eggshells and just-barely-there pale greys.

You sigh, and look back at your tray. Your stomach demands it, so you lift up a spoonful of muddy-colored vegetables and take a bite. Despite your best efforts, the plastic spoon clinks against your teeth anyway. On your next bite, you go slower, steadying your hands--sometimes he insists on feeding you himself, if you mess up enough. You don’t think you have the energy left today to deal with that. So you eat, slow. Carefully. He doesn’t speak, simply watching as the plate of food, the vegetables and rice, slowly disappear inside you.

The sauce is salty and the vegetables are mush, but the rice is fine and you only wish there was more of it so you could stomach the vegetables more readily.

When you’re done, he holds the cup again, positioning the straw near your lips. You sip a little faster, greedy and thirsty, until there’s nothing left inside.

His eyes practically light up at the empty tray, and as he’s taking it away you leans in closer, whispering through his mask, “Good girl.”

Your stomach churns. Maybe the vegetables had gone bad. Or maybe hearing him voice praise that would have made your heart flutter before is making you feel sick.

After he sets the tray to the side, he takes his place--this time not at the end of your bed, but on the side, unnervingly close to you. You watch as he slides his hands behind his ears, slipping off his mask and setting it down on top of your bedspread.

But then he just… watches you.

You’re about to ask him what he wants, tell him to just spit it out already, tell him to fuck off if he’s just going to be a creeper who stares at you, when you feel something. Something different. A blooming, a wave, a strange feeling coming from inside your skin. Bone-deep, blood-deep.

And it’s then that you realize that he’s drugged the food with something new. Something strong. Something that does more than make you sleepy, like the stuff he injects into your arm.

Oh the fucker. Fucker, fucker, fucker. You feel it taking effect like a slow-going tide, radiating through your body. Tingles, light and airy, taking all of the sadness and stress and hate balled up inside you; soaking them up like a towel, until all that’s left inside you is a blissful feeling of forced relaxation.

“What did you do?” You ask, though it comes out as a whisper. Your head lolls a bit to the side. Was your pillow always so soft? You blink away that thought, try to focus on what’s happening: he put more drugs in the food, he put something in the food that’s not just to make you sleep and now your body is tingling.

He takes your hands in his--you dimly realize that you should pull away, but why bother? His grip helps your hands feel less floaty, anyway--and gives a firm squeeze.

“I know you’re still in there. That… untoward behavior with our daughter, none of that was really you.”

You smile. There’s a brief flicker of lightness in his eyes, but when you speak it flies away.

“You don’t know me,” you say, voice free of the snark and bite from earlier, but clearly grating to his ears all the same.

Chisaki leans forward, and in your relaxed state you don’t attempt to move away. You simply register the closeness and focus on the way your body, your mind, is slowly deflating.

He squeezes your hands tighter. Too tight. They won’t float away, for sure.

“We’ve lived together for years. We’ve shared the same bed. We have a child together. You think I don’t know you?”

You whine--you don’t mean to, not necessarily, but your chest and lungs and throat aren’t cooperating. They’re too light for the sound you wanted to make, a guttural low sound from somewhere inside. Instead it comes across as childish and helpless and you suppose, that’s what you are.

“Lived together…” You laugh, shaking your head against the soft pillow. “But you kidnapped me.” He did, didn’t he, all those years ago. From a life you barely remember, especially right now; from people whose faces are scrubbed from your memory by time and trauma.

His fingers are stroking your hands now. It feels nice--it almost tickles. But the softness of the strokes, the way they tickle the tops of your hands, contrasts against his voice, firm, controlled, a touch of anger brushing underneath.

“I gave you a home. I indulged you in your interests, your hobbies, however silly. I gave you a family. Don’t act ungrateful.”

“M’not,” you mumble, reflexive more than reflecting. Trying to think about what he’s saying is hard, and getting harder by the minute. The tingling has now draped over your head and your thoughts are wrapped in cotton, thick and fluffy. You wish he’d talk softer. Everything else is calm, and the edge of something dark in his voice feels amplified a thousandfold.

“Look at me.” His voice is still too harsh. Maybe you should pet his hands to see if it helps, like it helped yours stay intact.

Before you can do anything, he speaks again.

“Don’t you love our daughter?”

Your head turns too quickly to look up at him, and you’re dizzy, but the words tumble out of your hoarse throat anyway.

“Yes. Oh, yes. You know I do.”

You may not remember the faces of others (your mother, your friends, your mother) but you remember your daughter’s face. Clear as a bell. Bright. You want to be with her so badly.

Another firm squeeze of your fingers. You squeeze back--hopefully it will bring him down to your level, to the cotton and balloons.

“Then why don’t you want to be with her?”

Why is he asking such a mean question? Your lips curl downwards in an unintentional childish mimic of a frown. They feel thick, almost numb, as you half-blubber out the words.

“I do want to be with her, but you won’t let me.”

His hands leave yours--you almost want to reach out, but they lay almost limp on your stomach--and he cradles your cheek instead. There’s warmth on your cheek and you realize that he’s taken his gloves off. Ah. Maybe your squeeze worked, after all; he only takes off his gloves when he’s happy, when he’s comfortable. When he wants to comfort you.

Fuzzy memories of crying into his shoulder, of weeping openly on a bed in a long-forgotten room, mingled with the sensation of his bare skin against yours. Always soft, comforting. Enduring. Something you could rely on to release the pressure of your emotions and bring you back down.

“Because you’re unwell,” he whispers, voice as soft as the cotton wrapped around your thoughts. “You’re so unwell.”

The way he brushes his hand against your forehead feels nice. Maybe you’re sick, after all.

You don’t even think about the words before you speak them, instinctual questions now going right from your surface thoughts to your voice and out your mouth.

“If I get better, can I see her?”

There’s a hand cradling your cheek again, and this time, you lean your face into the warmth. There’s that spark in his eyes again, but this time the look doesn’t melt away because of your ill-timed comment. You press your lips together to keep it that way, lest the thoughts flying out your brain make him upset again.

You feel so nice, like this, like you’re wrapped in the softest blankets in the world and there’s nothing, no hardness, no anger, no sadness, holding you down and making you cry. Just him and you and the warmth radiating throughout your body.

Why cry, when his hand is right here, when your body is so tingled and relaxed. Why cry, when all you can think about is how nice you feel, how calm he is, how calm you are.

Why cry, when the next words he speaks make your heart thud against your chest in pure, body-lifting joy.

“Of course you can.”

His hand trails along your chin, cupping it in a way that makes your stomach flutter.

“Now that I’ve found the right medicine for your… disposition, we can start the rest of your treatment right away.”

What he says should scare you. But there’s no room left in your body for anything but forced content and fuzzy softness and the smallest hint of deja vu, a wispy little thing cupping its hands and yelling warnings that you brush away with a smile.

#yandere overhaul #yandere chisaki kai #overhaul x reader #yandere bnha #afterwitch writes #part 4 will probably not be a full part #just a vignette to wrap up this particular storyline

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crayonwriting · 3 years

Text

The Iwaizumi House

(gif credits)

series masterlist

"Hello." Iwaizumi lifted a hand in greeting. "I am the father of cheeky, 27-month-old triplets, Hayato, Jiro and Kosuke. I'm Iwaizumi Hajime." He bowed down a little in greeting to the interviewers.

Iwaizumi sat up, mind still in a daze. He looked to his left and right and counted one, two, three. Good. All three boys are still asleep. It grew as a habit for him to count his children everytime he wakes up in the morning, fearing that one of them might crawl off. He sighed and scratched at his head as he stetched out his body.

"They're such angels when they sleep...," he muttered to himself. "Once they get up, it will be chaos." He stood up and stretched a little bit more. Just as he was about to step out the door, he sensed movement from one of the triplets. He looked back and it was Kosuke, the youngest.

Smiling to himself, he walked back to where Kosuke laid and leaned down to get closer to him. Iwaizumi was feeling a little bit playful, so he braced himself on his hands and held his body straight. He started doing push-ups. As he went down he gave Kosuke's supple cheeks a kiss.

The small child wiggled at the ticklish feeling. He held out his arm and subconsciously tried to grab on to Iwaizumi's shoulder. When he finally did, Kosuke pulled his father close, letting himself succumb to sleep in the warmth of Iwaizumi's body.

When Kosuke was asleep again, Iwaizumi stood up once more and headed for the kitchen. He started pulling out ingredients from the cabinets and the refrigerator—rice, egg, spring onions, corn, seasonings and some fish. He started mixing them all into a big wok .

Just as he was cooking, back in the bedroom, Kosuke finally roused himself awake. He blinked his eyes open and whined at the absence of his dad. He rolled onto his front so that he could sit himself up. Still feeling a little disoriented, he called out for his dad.

Iwaizumi heard the call and rushed back into the room. He saw Kosuke, still groggy with sleep. Tiptoeing lightly on the futons on the padded floor, he picked up the little boy in his arms and gave him a sweet kiss on the cheek. Kosuke giggled, kissing Iwaizumi on the nose. This made him smile and he carried his son out to the living room.

"What's that?" Kosuke pointed behind Iwaizumi who turned around and saw that he was pointing to the cameraman set up in the living room.

"What is that?" Iwaizumi just repeated back.

"Dinosaur." Kosuke proudly stated. This made his dad chuckle. He was set down on the floor and he slowly approached the 'dinosaur.' Iwaizumi headed back to the kitchen to continue his breakfast preparations.

Kosuke peered inside the small window of the makeshift house and saw the uncle that sat inside. He gave him a cheeky smile before clapping his hands. Just as he looked away, he noticed another 'dinosaur' on the other side of the room. He eyed it warily. He took a few steps and noticed that the dinosaur head moved. Kosuke tentatively moved further to his left and, still, the dinosaur followed him.

Backing away, he followed his dad to the kitchen. He knew that if the dinosaur decided to 'attack' him, his father will come to his rescue. Kosuke noticed that Iwaizumi was standing by the stove. He knew what that meant for him and his brothers.

"Food! food, food, food, food!"

Iwaizumi glanced at Kosuke and chuckled to himself when he saw him dancing at the thought of food. It reminded him of you. You would do a dance like that everytime you had dinner dates; even convenience store dates.

"I'll cook as quick as I can, okay bud?"

Back in the room, because of Kosuke's screams for food, the eldest of the three woke up. Hayato rubbed at his eyes when he noticed the tiny house set up in their room. He pushed the blankets away from his body, doing his best to get up to investigate the small house.

He was only able to sit up before Iwaizumi came in the room and saw that he was awake. He had wnet back to the bedroom to check on the other two.

"Oh, who's this?" He leaned down and picked up Hayato in his arms. Like he did with Kosuke, he gave a kiss to Hayato's cheek. The small baby smiled wide at the affection. He then pointed to the small house in the room.

"Papa, what's that?"

Iwaizumi hummed in acknowledgement but he didn't answer Hayato's question as he was focused on Kosuke entering the kitchen alone. He pulled on the back of Kosuke's shirt and then securing the baby fence so that he couldn't enter the kitchen.

Hayato was placed down on the living room floor and he immediately took notice of the vacuum cleaner near the couch. He took interest in it. He tried pulling and pushing at it, just like how he saw you use it to clean their room. His dad saw that he was struggling, so he decided to help.

"Want to clean the house, Hayato?" Iwaizami took hold of the vacuum, pressing the on button one time, making it hiss to life before going silent again. He repeated the action, and everytime the vacuum would turn on, his son would step back in fright—which gave him an idea.

"Run Hayato!" He pointed the and of the vacuum close to Hayato and pressed the button. The boy squealed in the delight, running around the living room whilst his father chased him around.

The middle child of the triplets, and the last to wake up is Jiro. He was roused awake by the sound of the vacuum cleaner. He quietly sat himself up and he walked up to the doorway. The baby fence that was set up there hindered him from going into the living room. He saw how his brothers were busy with the weird-looking houses, just like the one in their bedroom right now.

He eyed it warily. He felt a little uncomfortable with it so he turned back to the living room hoping that any of his brothers would notice him. His dad, who had his back to him, placed the vacuum on the opposite corner of the room—where Hayato won't notice it—and returned to the kitchen to prepare servings of breakfast.

Hayato and Kosuke squealed and ran around the living room, laughing at the sight of the dinosaurs following them. They hopped onto the couch and played on top of it. Jiro looked at his brothers with a pout on his face, sad that he was missing out on all the fun. When Hayato climbed down from the couch he saw Jiro standing by the fence.

"What's that?" Hayato pointed to Jiro. Iwaizumi glanced at him and saw his outstretched finger. He stopped what he was doing and approached him to check it out.

"Oh! Look who's finally awake."

Iwaizumi opened the baby fence and Jiro walked out quietly. He couldn't help but ruffle the small hairs on Jiro's head. "Good morning buddy." He leaned down and pecked the top of his head. He watched his three kids come together, sighing to himself.

"Good. You're all awake." Realization hit him. "You're all awake...," he said more to himself, realizing the weight of his statement.

"Go on and show your respects." He held all three boys on his lap and urged them to bow in front of the interviewers. Jiro sat on his right thigh while Hayato and Kosuke were on the other.

"This is Hayato." Iwaizumi ruffled the said boy's head. Hayato just kept staring at the various cameras in front of them. Just as he was about to introduce his second child, someone interrupted.

"This one here is—"

"Kosuke!"

"Oh!" Iwaizumi let out a sound of surprise. "Good job on introducing yourself!" Kosuke ate up his father's praise, giggling in delight. Iwaizumi kissed his cheek. He turned to his right and gestured to Jiro.

"This one is Jiro. Say hi and take a bow." Jiro wasn't actually paying attention to his dad. At the start of the interview, he had been showing his charms to the camers by smiling at them and lifting a hand out in a wave. He had his head tilted to the side because he recalls you gushing over at how cute he looked when he did it.

The three boys squirmed on Iwaizumi's lap, each paying attention to different things: Jiro kept waving and making faces at the cameraman, Hayato wanted to play with the toys at one side of the set and, Kosuke kept latching unto Iwaizumi for affection.

"Alright, say 'bye' now." Iwaizumi urged but the triplets just ignored him. Kosuke was starting to whine and groan affecting his two brothers who were getting cranky as well. Not wanting to experience a tantrum, their father set them down from his lap and the boys rushed around the set.

Iwaizumi lets out a deep breath.

"It's amazing how Hayato acts like the eldest. Maybe he knew when he was born." Iwaizumi chuckled, scratching at his cheek. "He keeps his brothers out of trouble and always looks out for them when they're playing. He also eats the most.

Jiro oftentimes gets jealous. Like how a second child acts. He sometimes gets bullied by Hayato and Kosuke, which I always scold them for," he crossed his arms over his chest, "But he still remains cheeky and charming." He sat up straighter for the camera.

"For the youngest, Kosuke, he's very... free-spirited." Iwaizumi chuckled. "He's the troublemaker of the three and he's mostly the reason why we have rules in the house." He suddenly felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out and he saw that it was a text message from you.

Hajime, you have to stick it alone for 48 hours...I know you can do it but I'm really worried for you. I could drop by for an hour or two before getting back to work, if you like?

Iwaizumi chuckled to himself. "Even though she said that I can do it, I feel like she thinks I really can't."

"C'mon, let's eat." Iwaizumi approached the three of them riding their toy cars. He held Jiro by the arm, urging him to get off of the toy car. Hayato didn't need to be told twice. He got up and went to kitchen and climbed on one of the high chairs, situating himself while patiently waiting for his father.

"Oh! That's a good boy, Hayato. Thank you." Iwaizumi turned back to the other two, putting his hands on his waist, asserting authority. "Jiro. Kosuke. It's time to eat. You can play after." Kosuke just laughed at his dad and went under the table. Iwaizumi just shook his head and carried Jiro, bringing him to the kitchen by force. He sat him down beside Hayato and went back to Kosuke.

"Kosuke, it's time to eat breakfast. Your brothers are hungry, c'mon." Iwaizumi ducked under the table, reaching out for the small child. Kosuke pulled away from him not wanting to eat breakfast at all. Iwaizumi didn't want to do it, but desperate times calls for desperate measures. He pulled on Kosuke's arm, just firm enough to get him out of the table but not too hard to hurt him.

Kosuke tried squirming away from Iwaizumi to no avail. His dad carried him in his arms and took him to the kitchen where the others were. When Kosuke saw his brothers, he calmed down and complied when he was sat down on his high chair.

Iwaizumi stood in front of them. "Hayato. Jiro. Kosuke." His voice was serious and strict, which caught the triplets' attention. "For the next forty-eight hours, it's just gonna be the four of us...," he let out a shaky breath, "Please be good to me." He bowed in front of the three. They only stared in wonder at their father, not really understanding the meaning of his actions. Iwaizumi just laughed.

He got a cup and poured it with water. He then distributed the water to each of the little boys, carfeully putting his palm under their chins just in case the water runs over. After that he placed their bibs carefully around their necks.

"Alright, now for the next thirty minutes," Iwaizumi picked up the egg timer you bought and twisted it to '30,' "It's eating time. Especially you, Kosuke." He eyed the boy. "Don't take more than thirty minutes. You all have to eat within that time. If you don't finish it, it's mine."

As Iwaizumi was explaining this to them, he prepared their breakfast trays of fried rice—a mixture of eggs and fish with green onions—and a small bowl of vegetable soup. He gave Kosuke's tray first followed by Hayato's then Jiro's.

Hayato and Kosuke started eating their portions. Iwaizumi got himself a small plate of the rice and a step stool. He set it in front of Hayato, who was sitting in the middle. He then pulled Jiro and Kosuke to his sides. The crane-wing formation he had managed to pull off made it easier for him to look over each child.

As usual, Hayato has the biggest appetite of the three. He was scooping a spoonful of his food and sharing it all in his mouth in one go.

"Hayato eat slowly, please." Iwaizumi took a bite of his own cooking and pursed his lips when he realized that the taste wasn't half bad. He took another one. He glanced to his left where Jiro was looking apprehensively at his food.

"What's wrong, Jiro?" His dad scooped up some rice and held it to him. The child slowly opened his mouth, finally taking a bite. He realized that it tasted good. Jiro held out his spoon and nudged it towards Iwaizumi.

"Hm?" He raised an eyebrow. "What do you want?" Jiro kept nudging his spoon towards him. He grumbled a little, not knowing how to tell his father to feed him. Iwaizumi picked it up and fed him another spoonful. He wanted them all to learn how to eat by themselves but he always had a little difficulty with Jiro. I need to find a better technique, he thought.

"What's that?" Kosuke pointed to his right.

"That's a microwave oven."

The Iwaizumi men ate in silence, with the occassional remark from their dad that they were eating well and also to chew slowly.

"Papa, food!" Hayato pointed to Iwaizumi's untouched food. Leave it to Hayato to always look out after their dad. Iwaizumi thanked him and took bites of his food, making Hayato smile. All three kids continued to focus on their eating. It was only a few more minutes before Hayato cleared out his tray.

"Good job, Hayato!" Iwaizumi took his tray to the sink and helped him remove his bib. He gave Hayato a sip of water before helping him out of his chair. "Since you finished first, you can go ahead and play."

Hayato skipped in his step as he went back to his toy car and rode it around the living room. When he noticed the vaccumm cleaner at the corner, he immediately went to it. For some reason, he found a huge interest in the small machine despite being scared to death when it was turned on.

He approached it cautiously. He poked the long body and when nothing happened, he moved closer. He hopped off his car. He started fiddling with the handle of the vacumm. He managed open the latch containing the filter and he leaned in closer to inspect it.

Meanwhile back in the kitchen, Iwaizumi was still helping Jiro eat. "Jiro, ah! Jiro, say ah!" He urged him to open his mouth. Glancing to the living room, there was no glimpse of Hayato anywhere.

"Hayato? Where are you? You get in trouble when you're quiet. Receiving no response, he called out to him again, "Hayato!"

The boy scurried away from the vacuum and got back on his car. He rolled past the entryway of the kitchenn—blocked by a fence—seeing his father's gaze directed towards him. He smiled at Iwaizumi brightly, pretending as if nothing happened. His dad only revised an eyebrow whilst shaking his head.

"We've noticed you have a lot of fences around the house. Why is that?"

"We need to have fences." Iwaizumi's eyes widened slightly in emphasis. "One time we left the door open—I think it was Hayato?," he had finger to his chin in thought, "You know how the kitchen drawers open up? He made steps out of those and he started climbing them.

My wife spilt boiling water once, also. But they weren't hurt because the fence blocked them." He put a hand on his chest. " We can't watch the kids twenty-four hours a day. The fences help keep them safe."

Breakfast continued with Jiro finishing just as the egg timer rang off. This startled Kosuke seeing as he still has half of his portion. He was busy singing and making his father laugh during breakfast that he forgot to take bites.

"It's already thirty minutes. Kosuke you have to stay for five more minutes. Jiro, you can play with Hayato." Iwaizumi helped him out of his high chair and down on the floor. He opened the fence to let him out to the living room. When Iwaizumi stood in front if the youngest, Kosuke had a small pout matched with shimmering, pleading eyes. His dad sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"If you take five more bites for me, then I'll let you out."

Almost immediately, Kosuke did as he was told, making Iwaizumi smile. When he was done, he was given some water before being freed from his bib and high chair. As the triplets started playing, their father started stacking the trays and eating whatever leftovers were left on their plates. He decided he would do the dishes later.

Iwaizumi headed to the bathroom, and got three toothbrushes—green, blue and red. He sat on the living room floor, calling out to Kosuke. "It's time to brush your teeth." Instantly, Kosuke stomped his feet and whined. Iwaizumi gave a stern look before the youngest complied. He lay Kosuke on the floor in between his outstretched legs.

After putting on a small amount of baby toothpaste, he carefully pried Kosuke's mouth open and started brushing. The child didn't retaliate which was unexpected from him. Aside from the occassional whine and the anxious rubbing of his small feet, Iwaizumi found it easy.

"Good boy, Kosuke. I'm almost done brushing your teeth." Iwaizumi said. Beside him, Hayato was already dreading his turn. He was crying and begging his father to not brush his teeth. "What's the matter, Hayato? We need to clean your teeth. Look at Kosuke." This only made Hayato cry louder, laying his head on his father's shoulder.

When Kosuke was done—who rushed back to his car to play—Hayato just shook his head at his dad. "This will be over in a second. Come here." Iwaizumi laid him in between his legs as well, readying his toothbrush. Despite being terrified, Hayato didn't flinch much but his tears still fell down silently accompanied by his whimpers. Iwaizumi knows how uncomfortable brushing is for kids so he made it his goal to do it as quick as possible.

When Hayato was done, Iwaizumi called for Jiro. He was met with silence. He called for him again but nothing happened. Standing up, he checked their bedroom and noticed that it was empty. He found it odd since the only open rooms as of the moment is the living room and bedroom.

He noticed he small house of the cameraman wiggling and he knew where Jiro was. He approached the house and he saw his son crouched down beside the cameraman. "What are you doing there? C'mon, we need to clean your teeth too." He led Jiro to the living room and when he sat down on the floor, Jiro started a tantrum. He stomped his feet and screamed.

"Hey!" Iwaizumi eyed him carefully, face serious. "Don't do that. C'mon." He sat him in between his legs once more and carefully laid him down. Jiro squirmed and kicked his legs. Because of this he accidentally bumped his head on the floor with a firm thud.

"Sh—," Iwaizumi stopped himself from cursing, "You have to be careful." He put his hand under Jiro's head, rubbing it to soothe the pain. Jiro continued to cry. With his little boy focused on his head, Iwaizumi seized the moment and strategically tried brushing Jiro's teeth.

The child cried louder and pushed away his father's hands. "C'mon Jiro, we're almost done." Iwaizumi pulled Jiro's arms away from his face and pinned them down with his legs. He really didn't want to do this but he needs to get things done. He made sure to not press on to Jiro's arm too hard so as to not hurt him. As Jiro cried, his dad did his best to distract him.

"Papa...," Jiro wailed, "It hurts."

"Aww, it hurts? Who hurt you, huh? Tell me." Iwaizumi struggled, but managed to finish the task. "Alright. All done." He lifted his legs, releasing Jiro's arms. The child clambered to his feet and walked away from his dad, wiping at his tears. "Good boy, Jiro." He said to him as the child walked away and started playing with his car again.

Hayato, who was still crying and sniffling, hopped onto his dad's lap and wrapped his tiny arms around his body as best as he could.

"Papa, hug me...," Hayato nuzzled his face. He was still upset about getting his teeth brushed. His mouth still feels tingly to him and he just wants to be comforted by his papa, who was also the reason why he was feeling that way.

Iwaizumi sighed, ruffling his hair. "We still have a lot to do. This was just breakfast." He whispered to himself.

"Papa...," Hayato whined once more. He pouted up at him and reached for his father's face. Iwaizumi sighed in defeat. Besides you, he was always weak for his sons' pouts. He adjusted Hayato's position on his lap, letting the child lay comfortably on his lap; his head resting on his broad shoulder. He gave him head pats and a kiss on the forehead to calm him down.

---

tros tags: @plump-peach

A/N: AND HERE IT IS! I am so sorry for the delay on this. I actually had trouble to locate the intro vid of the triplets. And I didn't want to release something made half-assed. But heyyy! It's finally here! Original dad for the triplets was Akaashi just because I wanted to test how Akaashi would handle 3 bubbly boys, but then I couldn't find it in myself to do it to him. Hence, Iwaizumi swoops in! I mean, with Iwaizumi Hajime (27) Atheltic Trainer, triplets will probably be the hardest workout he'll do.

03.29.2021

#b writes #tros #haikyuu #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x raeder #iwaizumi #iwaizumi imagine #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi hajime imagine #iwaizumi hajime x reader

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atinytokki · 3 years

Text

Paradise

vi. Bad Habit

“You be good now, son,” were Father’s parting words. “Listen to your grandparents. I’ll see you as soon as I can get away.”

He had already said his goodbyes to Haneul, who was locked away in her bedroom, sick.

With the end of Father’s visit came school, and while San had enjoyed meeting his peers and flying through his course work last year, he was afraid it would be too easy for him this time.

Days spent inside gazing forlornly out windows while someone else told him things he already knew sounded less adventurous than they always made it out to be. And it sounded a lot like Haneul’s current state of existence; a prisoner.

Over the remainder of summer she had worsened and worsened. There was no evidence of this other than her decreasing time spent out in the world and Dr. Hong’s increasing time spent at their cottage.

He had met with Father last night, on the eve of his departure, apologising about taxes and prices and other things San didn’t understand. What he did understand was that Haneul now needed a medicine more expensive than they could afford.

“You’ll do as you’re told, right?” Father nudged as he began to pull away from a tight hug. “They really need you now.”

San could only nod weakly and relinquish his grip on his father as he stepped up to the front seat of the cart and let Grandfather drive on in the direction of the western docks. He would work ceaselessly when he arrived at home, every extra coin sent to Namhae for Haneul’s sake.

Managing household affairs was supposed to be a distant future for San, but already as he stood in the ocean and watched the sunrise, he could feel it creeping up.

He couldn’t be sure whether anything Dr. Hong had done was working or not, and Haneul didn’t seem keen to tell him.

San had fed her, administered every type of medicine they had in the cabinets, sung to her, read to her, played half a game of cards with her, and still nothing was bringing her out of her darkened mood.

Playing cards against someone who would rather stare out the window wasn’t the most fulfilling.

“Is something out there?” A high-pitched voice interrupted his musings. Little Inho had approached, school bag slung over his shoulder, likely expecting San to walk him to school. It was his first year and he was very excited.

“No, no,” he answered in a rush. “Just my imagination. You’re early.”

San’s observation changed the topic swiftly, and Inho went on to explain why he had come at the crack of dawn. “The garrison is finished! Don’t you want to go see it?”

“Are you sure?” San snorted, adjusting his own school bag and beginning the walk into town. The last thing he wanted was for some construction accident to befall the clumsy boy and become his responsibility.

“Yes, the officers who will attend it have already moved in,” Inho told him confidently, leading the way past shops and vendors to the site which had earlier been the source of constant noise and disruption.

“Woah,” San breathed when he laid eyes on it. It was no mere naval building, but an entire complex built near the town hall, complete with a jailhouse, offices, armoury, and some strange sort of display at the front that San couldn’t put a name to.

“Oh, the stocks and the whipping post,” Inho supplied easily when he asked. “Haven’t you heard of it? That’s where the criminal goes.”

“I thought criminals went to jail… or to the noose,” San muttered uncomfortably. They hadn’t been showcased for the town to see in strange torture devices, but then again, San had lived in a small town.

“But sometimes they go to the stocks or the whipping post,” Inho told him matter-of-factly, even as he stumbled over the long words. “To be publicly shamed.”

“Do you think there will be many criminals there?” San asked, not sure who he was addressing his question to, or why he was even asking.

Inho could do no more than shrug and skip away in the direction of the schoolhouse, sending San hurrying after him.

Considering how smart Inho was, San had no worries about his performance in class, so he turned his thoughts to his own situation.

Other than the several new students— children of naval officers moving in, according to the morning announcements— nothing much had changed.

There were more arithmetic problems to solve, more scientific experiments to conduct, and more ancient tragedies that hit too close to home to read.

Due to Haneul’s absence, the schoolmaster sent books home on San’s back for her to read, and even when he tried reading them to her she didn’t become conscious enough to show signs of paying attention.

It seemed like she was getting worse and worse and their relationship was following suit.

The wind fluttered the curtains of his bedroom where San watched birds fly out to sea and wished he could follow.

For the evening it was just him and Haneul while their grandparents went on an evening walk along the beach.

It was the first of many evenings like that, where Haneul stayed in her room and San in his, alone save for his imagination, his books, and the small wooden pirate ship he had whittled in secret.

Regardless of the new boys he sometimes played with, San felt less and less connected as he entered his teenage years. As excited as he had been about Namhae when he arrived as a child, it no longer seemed that he belonged. That he had ever belonged in the first place.

Surrounded by the ocean, the very symbol of freedom, life was nonetheless monotonous and restricting. School was followed by work in the carpentry shop and then sitting in silence by Haneul’s bedside, watching his grandparents leave for their walk, and if he was lucky enough, sneaking out to play with his new friends along the beach at night.

Without really realising it, he was acting out the way he did as a small child when life was frustrating. San was a man of action, and if there was nothing to be done, he resorted to desperate but futile acts in a disturbed mood.

On one such winter evening the year he turned fourteen, his grandparents returned early from a shorter beach walk, hands held the whole time, to see San hurriedly putting the carpentry shop back together after some rowdiness with the officers’ children.

Neither of them spoke, and Grandmother simply padded upstairs to let her husband deal with the problem.

“Is anything broken?” He eventually asked a silent San, who quickly shook his head and continued putting chairs upright and tools back on the bench. “What exactly did you boys do in here?”

San exhaled through his nose before admitting, “We were studying at first but some of them brought die and cards so we ended up playing…”

“And drinking?” Grandfather finished for him, voice unchanged though there was disappointment in his eyes.

“No,” San lied smoothly. “Some of the older boys did, but—”

“But this is how you spend your evenings?” The older man cut to the heart of the matter, settling into his chair while a long pause unfolded in the wake of his question.

Maybe it was the effects of the rice wine but as soon as San opened his mouth, he couldn’t stop.

“I’ve been to probably every place on this whole island. I know everyone who lives here. If this is how I spend my evenings it’s because there’s nothing else to do. Haneul is upstairs dying and no one cares, not even Dr. Hong. Do you know it’s been six months since he recommended a new medicine? The one I feed her every day does nothing. The money Father sends from the mainland does nothing. All the books I read in school, and all the furniture we sell in the shop, and all the friends I make do nothing, Grandfather. Maybe if you would just fix up the sailboat like you promised when we first came, maybe then I’d feel like I wasn’t so trapped on this island where every day is the same and nothing I do changes anything.”

Finally out of breath, he couldn’t bear Grandfather’s heartbroken eyes on him any longer and ran to his room.

As he cried into his pillow he tried to pinpoint the moment it had all gone wrong. His life wasn’t supposed to be like this.

The more he thought about it in his hazy, turbulent mind, the more he realised it had always been this way. And it was never going to change.

Morning brought the same gentle quiet of crashing waves and calling birds and the walk to school. San managed to avoid seeing his grandparents until school was done for the day, too guilty to know what to say to them if he did.

He and Grandfather worked in silence on a set of new sliding windows for Mr. Shim, and San was content to keep it that way, letting his actions speak with apology instead of his words.

But soon enough Grandfather opened his mouth.

“Your father hasn’t been sending money.”

San sat up from his work and furrowed his brows in confusion.

“It’s too dangerous,” Grandfather explained with a sigh. “Pirates and all. We wouldn’t want it to be stolen.”

Pirates were a variable none of them had accounted for. Although San’s friends always assured him the Royal Navy had them on the run, they were enough of a threat for trade to be severely impacted.

“Would you like to come on some of our evening walks?” Grandfather offered as they cleaned up and closed the shop. “That’s how your Grandmother and I deal with being powerless, and it might keep you out of trouble.”

The truth was, San did want to go. He had always wanted to tag along, because anything was better than watching Haneul toss and turn with pained moans, her clouded eyes far away from him and the seaside paradise their home used to be.

But he turned up his nose and faced away to hide his wet eyes. “No.”

Not if the only reason was to keep him out of trouble.

Life went on that afternoon and every afternoon following, with the issue dropped. San didn’t invite his friends over again, and only arranged to meet them at one of their houses or the beach.

Just before winter break, he went out one evening and nearly stumbled over the sailboat. Muttering to himself, he bent down to push it out of the way before the reason for its appearance dawned on him.

“It’s fixed!” He realised, eyes filling up with happy tears as he danced around the thing and quickly ran to Mr. Shim’s to knock on the door.

“Excuse me, sir!” He panted when the old ferryman opened it for him. “The boat— our boat— my grandfather finally fixed it! Can you, I mean would you, if it’s not an inconvenience, possibly be able to teach me how to sail it?”

Mr. Shim blinked at him for a moment before straightening and taking a glance at the setting sun. “I’ll send Jiyong to meet you in the square tomorrow afternoon?”

A slow smile spread on San’s face as he nodded his agreement and bowed respectfully several times over in thanks.

Tomorrow afternoon couldn’t come soon enough.

San flew through his schoolwork and brushed off his friends, begged Grandfather to let him off work early just this once and arrived in town’s central square right on time.

It was busier than usual by the garrison, and as San approached the crowd that had gathered he learned why.

Someone was chained to the whipping post, and an officer was flogging him right there for the whole island to see.

Wincing as a blow struck the man’s skin and left angry red blood trails behind, San wondered aloud who was being punished.

“A pirate,” Jiyong’s voice answered him as he drew up alongside the teenager, joining the crowd with his arms crossed to peer above heads and view the spectacle. “Not sure whose crew he belongs to, but he’s definitely one of the pirates they caught over the weekend.”

It was no disturbing occurrence, San reminded himself in an effort to keep from plugging his ears against the pirate’s cries. He had seen pirates before, almost been attacked by one in that cave on Dalhae.

He should be happy a pirate was getting his comeuppance.

“What’s going to happen to him?” San couldn’t help but ask when the man was unchained and dragged back into the prison, listless and painted in his own blood.

Jiyong let out an acknowledging hum before launching into an explanation.

“Well, you see, according to our laws here in Jaecho, when someone is caught with reasonable suspicion of being a pirate or of aiding a pirate, the navy can within its rights have them imprisoned, whipped, and whatever other interrogation tactics they use in there. But it’s not always a good idea to beat a suspected pirate, especially in public, should the claim be proven wrong and the accused demand reparations and public apologies. That would be… embarrassing.”

“I take it that situation has happened before,” San snorted.

Jiyong joined the laughter for a moment before nodding reluctantly. “A few times that I can think of.”

The sound of the door closing ominously behind the unlucky prisoner brought San’s attention back to the man’s fate. “Will he be executed?”

“Not unless he’s a proven pirate,” Jiyong rattled off instantly. “And to be one of those you must be either found guilty and sentenced to death by court, or marked with a pirate brand from a previous encounter, in which case the trial can be skipped.”

San went pale when it dawned on him why. There must be so many executions to get to that skipping the court process for several of them was necessary.

Jiyong continued, oblivious, “The branding is Admiral Kim’s tactic of keeping track of pirates that may slip through his fingers the first time he arrests them without enough evidence. If he catches them again, in the act of piracy or not, as long as he finds a brand he can have them hung and whatever else he pleases as soon as the schedule allows. And all the other pirates will see the corpse hung from the gibbet and beware.”

San shivered but spoke up as he caught on, “So since this man has been at the whipping post, there’s a high chance he really is a pirate, just an unbranded one?”

“Exactly. Or else we might’ve been watching his execution.”

Knowing that was a sight he would rather not try to stomach, San turned towards the harbour and Jiyong followed him.

“How do you know all this about courts and convictions anyway?” He asked the older man, who laughed and rubbed his neck bashfully.

“I study law when I’m not working,” Jiyong admitted, frowning when San seemed confused by the fact. “Did you think I was only going to work for Mr. Shim for the rest of my life?”

“But you’re his apprentice, you’re supposed to take over his business,” San reminded him matter-of-factly, crossing his arms in a way that probably looked a tad childish. After all, that was what Grandfather expected of him with regards to the carpentry shop.

“There’s no reason I can’t do both,” Jiyong insisted as the ocean came into view. “You don’t have to just take what you’re given in this world, ferrying passengers is fine but if there’s a chance to move up in status, I’d be a fool not to take it. Besides, it’s not like you haven’t taken up some bad habits.”

Clearly knowing too much, he accompanied his final remark with a wink and San found it necessary to change the subject to sailing before his behaviour was further exposed.

San got his first taste that day as Jiyong taught him everything he could possibly learn in a single afternoon about the handling of a small sailboat. And the following weekend he taught him everything else he could learn.

Grandfather had fixed the vessel for him in order to satiate his rebellious desires but, even as grateful as San was for his gift, the boat was quickly put to use for more unruly evenings.

He played hooky on and off for the rest of the school year, just enough to avoid being caught, and went out when he wasn’t permitted to. From his perspective it wasn’t as if he sailed into dangerous waters or endangered other passengers, and what Grandfather didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

For the time being it seemed he had no inkling. Haneul, on the other hand, did.

“Were you sailing?” The muttered question, barely louder than a whisper, interrupted his reading aloud.

San could only blink at her, surprised, as she gazed at him with her clear and piercing eyes, reflecting the candlelight by her bedside.

“You’re awake…” he breathed, stumbling to his feet in excitement. “Yes I was sailing, how did you know?”

Haneul’s expression didn’t change, but she glanced out the window and her eyes landed on the autumn moon. School had begun again after a scorching summer and San continued his nightly adventures unbeknownst to anyone else.

“You smell of the sea.”

San sat down again but closed the book and placed it on the table. Haneul hadn’t directly spoken to him in a couple of weeks, and even when she was coherent enough to do so, they never had much to talk about.

“Is it true you’re going to visit Father?” She asked quietly after a moment. It sounded like she wished she could come along.

San wasn’t sure how she even knew about those plans, considering the fact that he had only just asked Grandfather for permission that afternoon, but he nodded in answer and watched her face fall.

“I would bring you along but you’re still feeling ill and you don’t like sailing anyway and—”

“You need more attention than you’ve been getting,” she translated softly.

And, as usual, Haneul was correct but it embarrassed San to admit it.

“It’s just that I haven’t spent much time with him in the past few years.”

Because when he visits, he spends it with you, went unsaid.

“I’ll go over to Dr. Hong’s and ask if Eunkyung and Eunae can come visit you after school so you aren’t alone,” San offered when she didn’t reply.

The prospect brightened her mood for the rest of the evening, and as promised, San knocked on the neighbours’ door with his request before bed.

Eunkyung and Eunae had been too busy to manage more than a few afternoons at the Choi cottage, especially since there weren’t many games Haneul could participate in from the confines of her bed.

“How long will you be gone?” Inho asked with a pout as San slipped his shoes back on and prepared to go home, arrangements made.

“I’m not sure yet, maybe a week or so? You can survive walking to school without me for that long, right?”

Inho huffed but eventually agreed. “My noonas can take me. They’re boring compared to you, though.”

San couldn’t help but blush at the praise and gave the young boy an affectionate head pat before walking home and crawling into bed.

Perhaps it had been an exaggeration when he thought no one cared about him anymore. Sure, he often was alone and felt more like an outsider than ever, but he had Haneul, he had his grandparents, he had Inho and Jiyong and his friends at school, and most of all, he had sailing.

He dreamed about wind in his hair and sea grass bending over as if greeting a prince, the sky on fire with colour before him as he proceeded to his boat.

It was practically sailing itself across smooth and shining waves and San could sit back and feel the setting sun on skin.

He was where he belonged.

...

A/N: I have become swamped my school :< Been meaning to write this for some time, hopefully I’ll get a schedule underway but thanks for your patience, don’t forget to comment and motivate me lol and stay tuned ❤️

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saltlampsasuke · 4 years

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Unfortunately, You Are Experiencing Symptoms of Falling in Love: Part 3

Having your long-term boyfriend cheat on you is pretty bad, but you're lucky enough to have a rich, pro-hero best friend who lets you move in with him until you get a new apartment. Except lockdown happens. And you can't look for a new apartment anymore, and you can't go anywhere anymore, and neither can your best friend, and you think you might be falling a little bit in love with him. Or maybe you've been in love with him all along.

The story of how it takes a nationwide lockdown for you and Bakugou Katsuki to finally get together, part 3!

warnings: Coronavirus mentions

wordcount: 2,384

I stayed up til like 3 am to finish this chapter because I wanted the first day to be over so bad :/ so please like it. Also I don’t know why that scene with the old lady happened she just wanted to be written. I kinda want to make her a side character oops

Katsuki’s apartment never failed to impress you. You didn’t remember much about it, having only visited a few times, and he was reluctant to allow even his closest friends to explore his living space with wild abandon. You had to admit, you were excited to get to see his entire living space up close and personal. Kirishima was going to be so jealous, you thought to yourself, even cracking a slight smile. Even the lobby of the apartment building was sleek and professional, befitting the number two hero. And it was secure as well.

“Alright, sit tight. I have to get your dumb face a security login so that you can get in and out without me having to escort you everywhere like some fucking bodyguard,” said Bakugou. You smiled and plopped down on one of the plush lobby chairs, enjoying sinking into the luxurious cushions while Katsuki talked to the lady at the front counter. “I need to add her to my room permissions. Can you make her a card?”

The woman at the counter desk seemed sweet, a fact that was confirmed when you heard Katsuki speak to her without a single harsh word. He had always had a soft spot for grandma type. Her wrinkled face lit up as she glanced down to see you.

“Oh Katsuki, you’ve finally brought over a girlfriend! I’m so happy to see it, I knew you had it in you!” the woman exclaimed. Your eyes widened in surprise, and Katsuki choked in surprise loudly for a few seconds before regaining his voice.

“What? No. No. This is my friend. She’s had some apartment trouble, and she needs a place to stay,” Katsuki explained with the patience he typically reserved for rescue missions. The woman’s smile got even wider.

“Oh, I bet she had some apartment trouble all right. Very well, and how long will she be staying?” You couldn’t see Katsuki’s face, but you could feel him rolling his eyes.

“Indefinitely.” The woman at the counter raised her eyebrows sky-high.

“So you mean to say that you are having this gorgeous young lady move in with you for an indefinite period of time, and she’s not your girlfriend?” You giggled to yourself once more. Clearly, this old woman was the type to give Katsuki a run for his money. Back in high school, he already would have been yelling his head off, and while you knew he was still holding it in, he was mature enough to remain calm. Well, as calm as he could be. Watching him try to hold himself back was highly entertaining.

“Old woman, I am telling you she’s not my girlfriend. End of discussion. Now give her a card.” Katsuki folded his arms across his chest. He meant business, and the woman at the counter seemed to realize that he wasn’t in the mood. While part of you wanted to relax in the comfy chair and watch your friend get teased by an old lady while he tried not to blow up at her, the other part just wanted to lie down and go to bed. It wasn’t quite night yet, just around the time you would want to be eating the dinner you had planned to make for Takumi, but the events of the past few hours had you drained. The woman nodded, still smiling brightly.

“Alright, alright, I believe you. I’ll just need some form of identification to put her into our system and the card will be in your mailbox by tomorrow morning. Sound good?” Katsuki nodded, while you handed him your driver’s license. She quickly scanned it into the system and handed it back to you, and you stood up, following Katsuki to the elevator. The doors to the elevator closed, and you saw Katsuki swipe his access card and push the button for the top floor. Odd. You could have sworn he lived somewhere in the middle of the building.

“Sorry about the old woman. She means well,” Katsuki said gruffly. “She’s just too nosy for her own damn good, and she’s always trying to set me up with her friend’s granddaughters. Telling me I need to settle down. Fucking ridiculous.” You had to laugh as well. Katsuki had never been the type for long-term relationships, you had always been the one of your duo to peruse that. Takumi had been your third long-term relationship, and there had been many dates and flirting phases with others beforehand, but you could count on one hand the number of women Katsuki had ever mentioned to you. You knew he had hookups sometimes; never taking the women back to his place. And there had been one girl you had actually met, though she hadn’t lasted either. He hadn’t been too sad, though, claiming she had tried to get with him for his hero status. If there was one thing Katsuki wasn’t, it was superficial. He was honest to a fault, and he didn’t respect anyone who didn’t act the same.

“I think she’s nice,” you replied happily.

“Of course you do. Probably going to end up going over to her apartment for tea every fucking week,” grumbled Katsuki. Your face lit up.

“She’ll invite me for tea?”

“Shut up. I’ll make you tea if you want it so goddamn bad, what do you need her for?” The elevator dinged, signaling your arrival at the top floor. Confused, you turned to Katsuki.

“I didn’t think you lived on the top floor?” Katsuki turned to you, raising an eyebrow.

“Ah yeah, it’s a bit of a recent thing. I moved in about a month ago. The old owner moved out, and I decided to upgrade. Got the whole floor to myself. I was gonna let you take a peek at the new setup, but you’ve been pretty busy.” You frowned, curling slightly inward on yourself. You had been neglecting your relationships for your work lately, and you had been neglecting Katsuki for Takumi as well.

“I’m sorry,” you said with a small voice.

“Doesn’t fucking matter, don’t care. Just follow me.” Katsuki lead you down a short hallway to another locked door, which he swiped to let you in, holding the door open for you. The first door lead to a small room with a coat and shoe rack, where you carefully placed you’re your shoes. Katsuki handed you a pair of house slippers, which fit surprisingly well. You wondered to yourself why he had them when his feet were so much bigger than your, but you were distracted by the opening of the second door that revealed Katsuki’s new penthouse apartment.

The apartment screamed “bachelor pad” dominated by black and grey tones, with the occasional pop of orange. Katsuki’s colors. It had a very modern, open feel to it, with lots of steel fixtures and open space. The living room was wide, with a large couch placed center in front of an even larger tv. Behind it, visible due to the mostly open-floor plan of the apartment, was the kitchen, decked out with the finest culinary tools. You almost drooled when you saw the solid copper pots. Then again, Katsuki had always been a talented and devoted cook, so it didn’t surprise you to see that he had invested heavily in his kitchen. There was even a loft above the kitchen that looked like another, smaller, lounge area. The full-length windows let in the soft light of the sunset. There were a few doors on the sides that likely lead to the rest of the apartment, and you followed Katsuki as he moved to show them to you.

“There’s a private pool on the second floor, nothing too big, I thought it might be nice for a get-together or something. Been thinking about maybe having more people over to the new place, thought it might be nice. There’s also a workout room, I don’t use it too much because the agency’s got more machines and shit, but it’s nice to have one on hand. There’s two bathrooms, but only one with a bath and everything, so we’ll be sharing. Don’t put your crap everywhere. Your room is on the left, mine is on the right.”

Your room was smaller than Katsuki’s, as he had the master with bathroom attached. Sure it wouldn’t be ideal to have to use a shower that you had to walk through his room to get to, but it wouldn’t be an issue. You were both adults, and hopefully you would be moving out to your own place soon enough. Still, you knew you would be comfortable here.

“Is it ok if I go to sleep soon?” you asked Katsuki. His eyes bugged out.

“Are you stupid? You want to go to bed without eating dinner? If you live in my house, you follow my rules, and one of my rules is making sure you fucking eat,” Katsuki barked. You smiled carefully, sitting on the edge of your bed.

“I guess it kind of slipped my mind, but I’m not really that hungry,” you replied. Which was true. Now that you had finally started to settle down again, all of the pain of the day was starting to rush back. You had distracted yourself with the move earlier, but now that you had arrived, you didn’t have anything to focus on. True, you should probably eat. But you weren’t really in the mood to move at all right now. You flopped down on the bed, sprawling across it.

“You have to eat. I don’t care what you want. I’ll make something simple, just eggs on rice. You like that boring shit, don’t you? I’ll do you a favor and make it all gross and tasteless just how you like it,” Katsuki declared.

“You’re the one who makes food that Satan himself would be afraid to eat for fear of burning his mouth off. I’m not the weirdo here, Katsuki.” He laughed brightly.

“No, you’re the coward here. Go jump in the shower, princess, get cleaned up. I’ll get dinner ready. Now you were the one choking in surprise, flustered that he had actually taken your flippant comment in the car at face value.

“Princess? Where did that come from?” you asked with confusion.

“Are you seriously going to tell me you want another new nickname? You said it was fine in the car,” Katsuki said, half teasingly, half seriously. You sputtered, trying to come up with words to defend yourself.

“Well, I didn’t think you were serious. Clearly I wasn’t!” you replied, as Katsuki moved out of your new room towards the kitchen.

“Too fucking bad, picky princess. Now seriously, you need a shower. You’re tracking that bastard’s germs all over my house.” What he said wasn’t scientifically true, but you knew you would feel better after having washed any traces of Takumi off of you, metaphorically and physically scrubbing him out of your life.

You padded behind Katsuki as he grabbed a towel out of a small closet and tossed it at you. It was big and soft, and smelled like his detergent. You couldn’t help but wrap it around you a little. Katsuki’s room was predictably clean, like the neat freak he was, and you were saddened to note the absence of anything to poke fun at him for. The master bathroom was large and fancy like the rest of the house, and Katsuki had to show you how to work the shower before he could leave to start dinner. You were about to have him head out so you could clean up when you realized something.

“Katsuki, what am I going to wear after the shower?” You saw his face fall slightly.

“Shit. Let me grab something.” You heard him rustle around in his drawers, and he pulled out a soft shirt, hoodie, shorts, and boxers, handing them to you. Part of you felt a bit weird about borrowing your friend’s underwear, but it couldn’t be helped. If you had packed, you wouldn’t be in this situation, so you really had nothing to complain about. “You can use these. I’ll wash your stuff so you can wear it when we pack up tomorrow. And you can grab whatever hair and body stuff you need as well, just open something new if you need it. I’ll get dinner. Don’t take a fucking century.” With that, he closed the door and left for the kitchen.

Katsuki’s shower was fantastic. Sure, Takumi had convinced you to splurge on a fancier apartment than you were used to, but this was next level. And all of Katsuki’s products were high-quality as well. You almost wanted to steal them for yourself, though that put you at the risk of permanently smelling like him. You almost thought it would be worth it, you thought to yourself as you slathered on moisturizer.

You pulled on Katsuki’s clothes, which were a bit too big, but manageable. Thank goodness for drawstring pants. He had times dinner perfectly, sliding the fried eggs over the rice right as you stepped into the kitchen. Smelling the food, you realized you were hungrier than you thought you had been. You inhaled the food, thanking him profusely. He shook his head, knowing he had been right. After you finished eating, it was closer to nighttime, and you felt the day beginning to crash over you again, this time inspiring the urge to sleep. Katsuki noticed quickly.

“You aren’t going to be any use at all if you’re tired. Get some sleep, princess. We have a big day tomorrow.” You nodded sleepily in agreement, and walked over to what was now “your” room. Katsuki stood in the doorway as you snuggled into the covers, and reached to turn out the light. You spoke quietly.

“Seriously, Katsuki. I don’t know how I can ever repay you for this. It’s too much.” The room went dark, and you heard the door start to swing closed.

“Don’t be stupid. You don’t have to pay my back. Don’t even fucking think about it. I won’t let you. And don’t thank me either,” he said quietly, a slight edge to his voice. “I’m doing this because I want to. So shut up and go to bed. You need to be ready for tomorrow.”

#katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #mha x reader #mha #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #pro hero bakugou #my hero academia #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #i stayed up too late writing this #i regret a lot #bakugou katsuki

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cosmojaem · 4 years

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Jack of all Trades [l.mk]

Summary: After saving an unknown and injured man from dying. All of a sudden, you’re under the protection of one of Seoul’s notorious mafia.

Genre: mafia!au, strangers-to-lovers!au, angst, fluff

Warnings: mentions of violence, blood, smoking, language, implied sexual content

Pairing: Mark Lee x f!reader

Word count: 7.4k

You have never been more relieved to go home after a long, gruelling day at your job. You’ve worked for a cafe for a while as a part time job, then became a full time thing after you’ve graduated to earn a little more cash to support yourself. After all, earning money is not easy.

During one of your breaks, you instantly remembered that the results for the Nursing Licensure exams are bound to be released today. Without missing a beat, you immediately pulled out your phone, a notification popped up the moment you typed in your passcode.

LOCAL MAFIA WRECKS HAVOC, POLICE ADVICE CIVILIANS TO STAY INSIDE:

Kim Sohye | May 4, 2020 12:29

You cleared the notification after and decided to read the article later. Crime is pretty high nowadays but you can confidently say that you live in a safe neighborhood because you've been walking home alone despite these happenings.

Refreshing the site for the result, your fingers typing your exam number rapidly. How you wanted to cry at that very moment. Luckily, you can still do a retake, but you have to wait for 45 days for the next exam which gives you more time to prepare.

As you neared your apartment, you fished out your keys from your pocket. As soon as you approached the door, you got startled by a body of a man lying in front. The man wheezed, forcing his body to stand up. Your instincts were yelling at you, telling you that this might be a red flag and he’s going to murder you.

But when you saw his badly injured body, you knew you had to help him.

“S-sir, I don’t think you should stand up. You’re badly injured.” You said, running towards his body and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Leave me alone.” He commanded whilst removing your hand from his shoulder then let out a hiss.

“Don’t!” He replied immediately, shooting what seems to be like a sharp look but his pained expression betrayed him. “Just don’t take me to the hospital.”

You were confused, but eventually agreed to his odd request, “Alright, at least let me patch you up. Can you stand by yourself?”

“I’ll be fine,” he waved you off, attempting to stand up with the little strength that he had but eventually hissed at the pain from his knee. Even with his groaning and hissing, he refused to tell you he needed help.

Rolling your eyes at his stubbornness, you helped him up while opening the door to your apartment then walked inside and laid him on your couch. You opened the lamp near your couch to see his injuries.

“I’ll be right back, don’t even think about getting up.” You told him sternly before turning your back to fetch your supplies.

You returned with all the things you need, setting them down on the floor and kneeling down after. Attempting to take his shirt off to have a better look at his injuries was more difficult than you thought as he was flinching when you touched his arms.

“How much do you like this shirt?” You asked, grabbing the scissor from your supplies in hopes of making things easy for the both of you by cutting his shirt. A pained hiss draws from his lips, “Not that much”

After doing what must be done, you grimaced once you had a better look at the bruises, cuts and blood that littered his body and took a cotton pad soaked in antiseptic to clean his wounds. After almost 30 minutes of cleaning and dressing his wounds, you also stitched the deep cut he had by his abdomen.

When you finished up, you cleaned up all the blood soaked cotton pad and the things you used.

He whispered, “Thank you.”

“No problem, I never got your name. Can’t keep calling you ‘hey’ and ‘sir’ all time, can we? Mine’s (y/n).” You earned a low chuckles from your response. He seems fairly amused, “It’s Mark.”

“Well Mark, you’ve sustained a lot of injuries that needs healing so I suggest you stay here for the meantime since I’ll need to remove that stitch that I made.”

“What?!” He exclaimed loudly. You swear, your neighbors will be complaining the next morning by how loud he shouted. “Fuck, I can’t do that! I have to go, thanks for patching me up.”

Mark attempted to stand up from his state, only for him to let a pained groan which makes your statement correct. You shake your head at his stubbornness, “I told you. Now, stop being a stubborn ass and sit down or you’ll open up your stitches.”

Eventually, giving up all his attempts of moving, he decided to just lay down there. You turned back from him to return your things and heat some dinner because you were starving from all the work you did. As you returned your things and went to the kitchen, you heard a faint voice, specifically Mark’s voice talking through the phone in a hushed tone. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop at their conversation but all you heard was ‘base’, ‘Hyuck’ and another guy’s name you forgot.

Once you heard him end the call, you immediately shuffled to the fridge as if nothing happened.

“Uh (y/n)?” He called from the living room. “Can I have a glass of water?”

“S-sure, just a sec!” You stuttered as you hurriedly grabbed the leftovers and the pitcher of water. You poured him water then went back to the living room with two plates in your arm.

“Here.” You placed his glass of water then set down the plates before running back to the kitchen to get the leftovers. “I’ll be right back.”

Mark reached for his glass before gulping down its contents, he surveyed your apartment. It was normal, a few frames here and there along with furniture and some decorations. Squinting his eyes, trying to take a closer look to the diploma hanging on your wall.

‘(l/n) (y/n), Bachelor Science in Nursing’

That explained a lot with the amount of medical supplies that you have. Normal civilians don’t have stitches for wounds, right? He fumbled in his pocket for his phone then sent a text to Renjun. Hearing light padding of footsteps, he put his phone back in his pocket then watched you place the food in front of you two.

“Sorry, it’s nothing much,” you said sheepishly then looked up to him. “Go ahead and eat.”

Placing his portion of the food on his plate then added rice, handing him his utensil also. After giving his share, you went ahead to get your shared portion and both of you ate in complete silence. Hearing only the sounds of clanks from the utensils and plate, Mark decided to break the ice with a cough.

“So...” he trailed, which earned him a quiet hum from you. “You’re a nurse, huh?”

He immediately noticed that you looked at him hesitantly before opening your mouth to speak, “Not really. I failed the licensure exam so technically, I’m not a ‘nurse’ yet.”

“Technically, you are one. Just not one in practice.” You flashed a small smile at him before going back to finish your meal.

“So what do you do for a living, Mark?” You asked then you saw him visibly flinched at your question. “Are your bruises hurting again?”

Uneasiness crossed his face which was weird since you only asked what he does for a job but you shrugged it off instead. You were a stranger to him after all.

“Um yeah, they kinda are.” He admitted which made you stand up to get an ice pack then let out a sigh of relief that he was able to avoid the question.

You went back with an ice pack in hand, giving it to him so he can ice his bruises. Mark mumbled out a small ‘thank you’ before applying the ice on his bruises, hissing at the cold temperature. Picking up the plates then head back to the kitchen to wash and clean up. Once you finished, you dried your hands and got a fresh batch of extra bedsheets and pillows and set it beside the couch.

“You will sleep on the bed since it’s much more comfortable there than here.” You said to Mark as you set up the books you’ll be reading.

“How about you?” Mark asked

“I’ll sleep on the couch, don’t worry about me! You take the bed.” Convincing him which earned a sigh from him, you helped him up to your room then gently had him sit up to your bed.

“I’ll leave the door open so holler if you need anything, Mark.”

“Thank you for this, you didn’t have to but thanks. I’ll pay you back sometime.” Mark said before tucking himself in.

You turned off the lights then went back to the living room to do your usual reading before going back to bed. It was around 3 am when you were awakened by a sound of screaming, immediately getting up and going inside the room to find Mark panting and sweating.

“What happened?”

“Did I — I'm sorry, did I wake you up, (y/n)? Sorry about that, you can go back to sleep.” Mark said as you were about to turn your back, he let out a small whimper. Hesitation floods his eyes, “A-actually, can you stay?”

You were taken aback by his sudden request as he only ever showed that he was a tough and stubborn person altogether from your interactions from before. You contemplated for a bit then answered, “Sure, I’ll just grab the sheets and put my makeshift bedding here.”

You returned to the living room to get the bedsheets and pillow, setting them down on the floor beside the bed then tucked yourself in, drifting to deep sleep.

Mark woke up from the light blaring from the side of the curtain. He stretched his arms then felt that he was holding something, only to see your blanket in his hands. He looked down on the floor but you weren’t there. Gripping on the sides of your bed to support himself, pain jolting across his body then slowly got up to sit. You entered the room a few moments later, clad in your underwear.

Feeling someone was burning holes in your skin, you looked up to see Mark staring at you in shock before looking away quickly. Immediately realizing the situation, you hurriedly went to grab your clothes and ran out of the room without.

That was something. He thought, shaking his head to cool his warm cheek.

It took you a while to forget the incident that happened earlier, you cursed at yourself for forgetting that you’re not alone. Living alone has its perks and walking around in your underwear without anyone seeing is one of them but you can’t do that anymore since you have company now. You left earlier, telling him you had to go to work now and will be back in the evening.

“So you’re telling me, you’re stuck in there for days?” Hyuck said from the other line, trying his best not to laugh at Mark but failed miserably. The latter sighed, “I just said that, Hyuck. How’s everything there?”

“Chaotic as usual, here in the base. I had to stop Renjun from choking Jisung earlier. Report came in, there’s someone lurking in one of our territories, will need some taking care of though.”

“I’ll be out of here in a few days, just need to have this stitch removed. For the meantime, just continue reporting as usual to me and the hyungs. Also, tell Renjun to send me his findings.” Mark instructed the younger male, earning a hum on the other end before ending the call.

His phone vibrated, opening it to see the background check on you that he asked Renjun to send him a few days ago. Shaking his head when he saw the message before the attachment.

‘Interesting candidate for a girlfriend, hyung.’

You just finished an order, calling out your customer’s name to retrieve their order then went back to the register when you heard the bell chime.

“Welcome, what would- Mark? What the hell are you doing here?” You whispered harshly at him as he let out a sly smile at your direction.

“I’m hungry, (y/n). There’s no food at home so I decided to grab a meal, didn’t know you worked here.” He answered nonchalantly.

You argued with clenched fists against the counter, “You’re not supposed to be walking around, you ass! I told you that!”

“Please, I’m a grown adult. I can tolerate pain, dear.”

Your manager asked while giving you a sharp look, “Is there something wrong here, sir?”

“Nothing at all. Just having a chat with (y/n), that’s all.”

You tried not to roll your eyes but you weren’t up for a lecture about customer service from your manager so with a strained smile, you took Mark’s order while attempting to ignore the burning eyes from your manager.

The following days, whenever he had the chance to go out, he sometimes drops by the cafe to eat and then stays until your shift ends, despite your violent protests. Another reason is to meet up with one of the members, mostly Hyuck for reports on what’s happening. Today was no exception.

“Hyung.” Mark turned at the sound of the voice to see a familiar figure wearing a face mask, hiding the lower part of his face.

He pulled his cap lower and approached the figure who was seated not far from his line of sight.

“What did you get, Hyuck?” He asked as he sat in front of him.

“There’s disturbance in the shipment of our cartels, we’re still looking into it but Jisung says someone is doing it on purpose. Also, I found this too.” Hyuck handed him a thick folder with twine tied around it. “You might want to take a look at it while you’re at it.”

Untying the tightly knotted twine around the folder, he opened the folder carefully with his eyes scanning across the contents inside. His fists visibly tightened at the folder he’s holding.

“This bastard- I killed him off a long time ago!”

Hyuck looked at him grimly, “That’s what we thought too. Apparently, from the information that I’ve garnered… You did kill his brother, Hyun, the former boss but he had a brother that we didn’t know of until now. He’s gathered men and out for blood, hyung.”

“He’s after me.” Mark looked at him in realization. “What else?”

A moment of silence engulfed between them before Hyuck gives him another file out of nowhere then throwing it in front of him.

“We also found out about his name and whereabouts; his name is Lee Seung and he’s last seen along the ports of Busan last week.” The younger male said while pointing on the picture of a man dressed in black.

His face hardened at the new information. “I need to know who he is working with and all his activities. Call everyone, we’ll be having a meeting now.” Mark commanded while he pulled out his phone.

He stood up from his seat, creating a creaking sound while he picked up the folders and placed them in his arms. After a few rings, the other line answered.

“Hyung, it’s me. We have a problem.”

Hyuck stood up from his seat and followed suit while sending everyone an urgent text.

You unlocked the door to your apartment, expecting to see Mark lazing on the couch but strangely, he wasn’t in the living room.

He must be sleeping. You thought as you dropped your things on the ground and went to your room to check on him, only to find an empty room.

“Mark?” You called before you closed the door and went to the kitchen.

No answer.

You went to the bathroom and knocked on the door, “Mark?”

Again, no answer.

You called his name numerous times but there was no answer to your calls. The house was empty, but you remembered leaving with Mark still inside.

Did he go somewhere? But where? He’s still injured. Numerous thoughts started to run inside your head which eventually led you to think of the worst possibilities that could happen to him. Now, you regret not asking for his contact number.

Hours passed by, it was already pitch black outside. You’ve drummed your fingers against the table as you looked at the clock across you. Mark still hasn’t arrived, you’ve already searched around the neighborhood and asked your neighbors if they saw anyone come out the house but none.

It’s already 11 pm. Where the hell is he? Your worried thoughts still are not kept at bay.

Upon hearing the creak of your door, your train of thoughts were interrupted then heard a light padding of footsteps. When you saw Mark, you felt relieved and annoyed at the same time.

“Where the hell did you go? Do you even know what time it is?” You asked while your voice got louder to every question.

“Errands.” Mark replied, he tried to make his way to your room.

“I’m not done with you!” You exclaimed out of annoyance.

He sighed as he rubbed his temples, “Look, can we just talk about this tomorrow? I’m tired.”

“Oh so you’re telling me you’re tired? Did you know that I went around looking for you and sat here for hours, worrying about your whereabouts! Maybe the next time I see you, you’re already dead.”

“Thanks for the concern, (y/n) but no one asked you to do those! Who are you even? You’re not my mother! Hell, you’re only a stranger.” He argued, visibly angered that you won’t leave him alone.

Your jaw tightened as you shot him a glare. “Atleast I have the decency to tend your injuries and shelter you! What an ungrateful brat.”

The argument became heated and it slowly became a screaming match, insult after insult being thrown in the mix. No one would back down and lower their pride, your screaming match only ended when your neighbor shouted from their window to shut up.

“Whatever, don’t talk to me if you’re still going to be an asshole.” You whispered harshly in his direction.

“Fine!” He slammed the door behind him as you plopped on your couch and curled into a ball, ignoring the cold nip of air against your skin.

The next day, the two of you gave each other the cold shoulder treatment while occasionally grumbling incoherent curses and mumbles under your breaths. Meanwhile, on the outskirts of Busan, a man took a long drag from his cigarette from his window sill.

“Boss!” The man turned his head to the direction of the voice. “We found him.”

A devilish smirk crept on his lips, eyes gleamed with nothing but intent. Taking his cigarette close to his lips again before puffing a cloud of smoke. “Is that so? What else do you have for me?”

A folder was thrown across, he flipped into it and picked up a picture pinned into it.

“Interesting.” He said while examining the picture then turned back to his men. “Get her. I‘d like to settle unfinished business with the Jack of all Trades.”

A loud yawn escaped your lips as you ran your hands through your hair. You casted a quick look to your room before clicking your tongue.

Tch. As if I’ll apologize. You thought as you laid down on the couch, using your arm as a pillow before falling into deep slumber.

Mark can’t sleep, he’s been tossing and turning but to no avail, he just couldn’t close his eyes or feel sleepy. He woke up earlier from another recurring nightmare that he has been having recently.

I’ll go out for a while, maybe it’ll help me.

He tossed the blanket aside and grabbed his jacket before making his way out of the room. With light footsteps, he quietly prayed that you won’t hear him going out. You stirred in your sleep which caused him to flinch, hearing mumble in your sleep then later turned into snoring.

What a weird girl you are. He thought as he watched you snore in your sleep. With slow steps, he went to your direction and put his jacket on your shivering body before making his way outside.

You didn’t remember sleeping with a blanket on but when you woke up, you saw a jacket that was not yours on you. Scrunching your nose as you recognized who it belongs to. Of course, it had to be him.

Stretching your legs before making your way to the kitchen to get yourself some water. The last thing you wanted was a bread being thrown at your face, the plastic made a crinkling sound when it hit the floor.

“What the fuck?” You snarled whole picking up the bread on the floor. “What’s your problem?”

Mark hummed in response before biting into his food, “Well, I don’t know. Maybe if you stop acting like you have a stick up your ass then maybe, I’ll apologize. Also, you were supposed to catch that.”

“Do you expect me to catch that? Bitch, you must be fucking stupid.”

He heaved a sigh before ignoring what you said. You pulled a chair just across him while rolling your eyes.

“I’m sorry. There. Happy now?” You said with a strained smile before he lets out a triumphant smirk. “Men and their stupid ego.”

“I’ll ignore what you said but I guess, we’re good now.”

You two continued to eat breakfast, occasionally sending jabs before you continued on with your routine of leaving for work. Fortunately, you were let out early from your shift as your boss was going to celebrate anniversary with his girlfriend so you went home immediately.

“Can you stay still and stop moving? I’m trying to remove your stitches here.” You barked as you slowly cut the stitches, pulling out the thread slowly until there’s none left. “There, good as new.”

Mark stood up, lifting his shirt and going to the full body mirror to see a scar. From the past few days, his injuries were healed and the aching was gone, thanks to you changing the dressing of his wounds and nursing him back to health. He almost felt like a new person with the newfound strength he regained.

“Thanks (y/n), I feel a lot better now.” Mark smiled which made you return his smile. “I have to go back now.”

“Ah right.” You said, not hiding the disappointment in your tone.

Reality dawning to you, almost feeling like you have been hit by a ton of bricks. He has to go now and you’ll probably won’t see him again. It saddens you because, you’ve warmed up to him in the past few days, silence will be your company again inside this house.

“Do you really have to go?” You looked up to him with hopeful eyes, almost pleading to him.

He sighed, “Sadly, I have to. My family needs me.”

He took a few strides to you then hesitatingly placed his hand on your cheek and looked at you with a soft expression. You eyed him, engraving every feature of his in your mind; his starry eyes, cheekbones, button-like nose and lastly, his lips. You wondered was he always this handsome and felt your heartbeat ringing in your ears.

“I’ll miss you, you know.” You mumbled but his ears perked up at what you said, letting out a sad smile on his lips.

“I will too.” Mark said then he leaned close, your noses almost touching. “Can I?”

You gave him a nod before he leaned closer to your face, feeling his breath fanning across your face as you leaned slowly and closed your eyes when you felt his lips touch yours. You placed your hands on his chest, your lips moving against his, slow and careful as if he was going to disappear.

The two of you pulled away, panting then he leaned on your forehead before opening his eyes to look at your flushed face.

He unclasped something from his neck, you felt a cold metal being clasped around your neck after then he looked at it then you. You looked down on your neck to see his silver cross necklace around your neck, gently cradling it in your hand.

“Just something that will remind you of me when you’re missing me.” Mark cheekily said before ruffling your hair.

Rolling your eyes then you hit his arm playfully, “As if, Mark.”

“Can you give me your phone?” He asked as you handed him your phone with visible confusion then typed in his number before handing it back to you. “Here’s my number so if you miss me or you get into trouble, you call this number.”

You both let out a joyous laugh before you two head out to the door, bumping each other’s shoulder. A comfortable silence engulfed you two as you made your way out.

“I guess, I’ll see you later then (y/n)?” He said before giving your forehead a soft peck which received a hit from a flustered (y/n).

“Yeah, see you when I see you.” He turned his back and started to walk away but stopped midway. “I’ll pay you back somehow, just you wait”

He continued to walk til his figure disappeared from your sight, you let out a loud sigh before closing the door behind you. You’re alone again, something you were used to before but not anymore. You clasped the cross on your neck, giving it a soft kiss. Days turned to weeks then months, your life returned to normal— it didn’t feel the same without Mark.

“So, where’s your boyfriend?” Yves pipped from the counter while you wipe the cups clean.

You blushed, “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“There’s no denying it, (y/n)~ Your face says it all.” She teased, nudging your shoulder with a knowing smile. “But have to admit, you two look cute together.”

You puffed your cheeks as you finished wiping the cups clean, shrugging off at her comment. Your eyes briefly glanced at the necklace he gave you. Looking at your wrist watch to see that your shift has ended. You went to the back to change out of your work clothes and fetch your stuff. You went out with your bag as Yves was busy typing her apron.

“I’ll be going now, Yves. I’ll leave the rest to you.” You announced as you made your way to the door.

“(Y/n)!” She called which made you stop in your tracks and turned around to look at her. “There’s a lot of criminal activity going on lately, you sure you can walk alone? Do you want me to call someone to accompany you?”

You waved off your hand at her, telling her you’re fine before you bid her goodbye again. She shot you a concerned look before slowly waving back at your direction.

Maybe you were starting to regret not listening to Yves’ warning because once you were walking towards your usual direction to your apartment, you felt heavy footsteps behind you. You didn’t think about it too much until you made a detour from your usual route which confirmed all of your suspicions of being followed.

With your phone in your hand, you immediately tried to dial the number on your speed dial.

“Hello?” Mark answered on the other end, tears welling up from hearing his voice and also, out of fear. “Who’s this?”

“I-it’s (y/n), I need help.” You whispered through the phone. “Um… I-i think-”

Before you could even speak, your arm was immediately grabbed by someone which made you drop your phone. You tried to resist from his hold but it only got tighter as you did so. With your free arm, you pinched him with all your might on his side as he shrieked in pain, letting you go. You immediately scrambled on the pavement to retrieve your phone but both of your arms were pulled back, you cried for help which only made him let out a sinister grin.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Cry for help, no one will come and save you.” He replied as he tried to stop you from wriggling in his grasp.

You stopped resisting, already too tired as you let out a sob. Tears rolled down your cheek as you silently prayed for someone to help you. The man whistled, his cronies coming out from hiding as one immediately carried you on his shoulder like a sack of rice. You thrashed around, hitting his shoulder in an attempt for him to put you down.

“Stop moving around, little bitch.” The man growled as he tightened his grip on your thigh as you let out a pained scream.

They stopped in front of a van, opening the back and quickly tied your wrists and feet together. Caressing your cheek then when his hand neared your lips, you bit his hand. Only for you to get slapped across the cheek.

“Bitch, that fucking hurts!” He screamed before crouching to get a roll of duct tape then held your cheek on one hand as he stuck it to your mouth, muffling your cries. “That’s right, be quiet.”

He slammed the door in your face, you tried to move your wrists but the rope only tugged on your skin, making it even more painful. You surveyed around to look for a sharp object but to your luck, there was none in sight. You leaned back, crying as you thought about all the horrible things these men can do.

Your ears perked up when you heard someone from the other side talking, there was another voice talking to them, a voice that seemed much younger and familiar.

“Open the goddamn door or else.” The voice threatened then an eerie silence followed.

You heard a gunshot which made you shut your eyes with a squeal. Light met your face when the door was being opened. You squint your eyes, looking up to see Mark, concern written all over his face as he climbs on board in an attempt to free you.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry-” Mark puts a hand on your cheek but was interrupted when he was being thrown out of the vehicle, landing on the ground with a thud.

Your eyes widened at what happened, your screams muffled by the stupid tape on your mouth.

After that, you heard gunshots and shouts from outside. Your heart pumped rapidly, scared of what is going to happen to Mark then next thing you saw is a younger male with sun kissed skin, breathing heavily.

“Hello (y/n), I don’t think we’ve met but let’s save the introductions for later.” The young stranger said with a small smirk. “But for now, I’ll need to get you out of here.”

He went inside of the van, pulling something from his boot then cutting you free from the ropes tied around your wrist and feet.

“This is going to hurt a lot.” He immediately removed the tape around your mouth.

You hissed at the painful sensation then shot him a narrowed look, “Goddamnit, could’ve you been more gentle? That was fucking painful.”

He rolled his eyes at your response, “Seriously? Not even a thank you? How ungrateful.”

“Thanks.”

Your ‘savior’ helped you out of the van, you saw a sea of red against the pavement with a few more men who were panting, sweat dripping down their cheeks. Your eyes met with Mark then he came running to you, pulling you into a tight hug.

“M-mark?”

“Shh.. It’s alright, (y/n). You don’t have to speak.” He coaxed, rubbing the small of your back as you sobbed on his shoulder, relieved that he was here.

“I-i was so scared-”

The last thing you saw was being placed behind Mark’s back in a protective stance. Peering from his shoulder, you saw a visibly older man in a suit with more companions.

“Stay behind me, (y/n).” He instructed sternly.

“If it isn’t the Jack of all Trades, I’ve been hunting you down for years and now. Finally, finally, I have finally found you!” Seung mocked then looked behind Mark. “Oh? What’s that I see behind you?”

The moment Seung mentioned you, Mark and the others immediately pointed their guns at the person talking in front of them without hesitation. He continues, “Let’s not be too hasty, gentlemen.”

Mark immediately turned to the younger man on his left who was standing beside you. They both nodded at each other, almost like a silent agreement between them, and the last thing you heard were someone pulling the trigger of a gun.

Everything was happening too fast, the young male broke into a sprint, pulling your arm as you also sprinted with him as he occasionally turned behind him to shoot.

“Mark!” You shrieked as you two continued sprinting away from the scene.

“Don’t just stand there, you idiots! Get them!” Heavy footsteps followed you two which made you two sprint faster.

Adrenaline rushing through your veins, your breath was ragged while you forced your legs to catch up with the younger boy.

“Just keep running and don’t look back, I’ll cover for you.” The younger male continued, looking behind you.

Haechan shoots with shaky hands as he tries his best not to loosen his grip on you even by a slightest. You two took shelter on a dark alley, immediately hiding behind the walls as the men chasing you two ran past you. He let out a sigh of relief then tucked his gun in the waistband of his pants.

“Name’s Haechan. You okay there, (y/n)?” He asked as you continued to wheeze, feeling a bit lightheaded from the sudden sprint.

You breathed out, obviously shaken up. “I-i’m scared, Haechan. But what’s happening, who are those men? Why are they running after us? W-what did he just call Mark? I-i’m so confused.”

He fiddled his fingers then sighed. “Those men are just cronies of a resident mafia. They’re after us, but they mostly want Mark hyung.”

“H-hold up, you’re what? How about those people from earlier?” You asked while rubbing your temples then you looked up to him in surprise. “Mark is your what again?”

Haechan’s face contorted into an amused look then he answered. “Take it easy with the questions, but yes, we’re a mafia group and Mark hyung is our leader.”

You two sat on the floor, you hugged your knees as he leans against the wall while occasionally looking out.

“But why was Mark called… what was that again?” You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, trying to take in all the information.

“Jack of all trades. Oh, about that… From what I know, hyung got that alias from his enemies. I don’t blame them, his smartass is too sly and skilled.” He explained. “Don’t tell him I said that or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Many admire him but many also fear him. Killing him would mean power and glory as he has a huge bounty on his head.”

Your eyes widened in realization, putting everything together. The injuries, the frequent outing, the calls and the way he flinched when you asked him about what he does for a living.

You croaked out a reply, “S-skilled in what?

Haechan hesitated before whispering his answer which startled you more than ever. “Gambling but I think you know what he’s capable of.”

You didn’t know how to feel; you felt scared, anxious and betrayed but you remembered his ‘rough around the edge’ thoughtfulness, stubbornness of not having you change the dressings, the kiss you shared before parting and the necklace.

“The necklace.” You mumbled as your hands clutch on the silver necklace on your neck, the cross sitting just above your chest, glinting all its glory.

Hearing a clicking sound, you crouched behind him while he cocked his gun in his hand while eyeing the wall warily. You heard footsteps then stopped but then the footsteps turned into rhythmic stomping before Haechan came out from the wall, gesturing you to stay put.

Ten minutes have passed since he asked you to stay put and keep quiet. You crawled from your hiding place, “Haechan?”

Peeking from behind the wall, you saw him being tackled on the ground who is obviously in pain then there’s a tackled Mark who kept a straight face but his eyes showed how furious he is.

“Let him go.” Mark grunted while the man cackled at him while motioning his cronie to inflict pain on the boy on the ground.

You covered your mouth in shock, tears threatening to fall down your cheeks then a small sound slipped past your lips. Pressing a hand on your mouth, in an attempt to prevent any sound from slipping again. Unfortunately, it seemed like someone heard your slip and now, you’re being thrown across the ground.

“Look who we have here.” The man’s hand went to your chin, forcing you up and lifting your face for everyone to see as you struggled from his grip. “If it isn’t your precious brat.”

His eyes widened when he looked at you and whispered, “N-no.”

“Such a waste that I’d have to put a bullet in her pretty head.”

Feeling a cold metal press against the side of your forehead, hearing a click which made you gulp from your position.

“What’s all the crack about the Jack of all Trades? I thought you’re more powerful than that, huh? You’re making me laugh, kid! That’s all you got?” He said before letting out an ugly cackle.

Mark looked at you before his lips quirked into a sly smile then returned his gaze to Seung with the same smile, irking the said man as he pressed the gun closer to your temple.

“I’d watch what you’re saying if I were you, Lee Seung.” He said and soon, bullets rained down and Seung’s cronies fell down on the ground immediately.

Seung looked startled when he realized what’s happening. Without missing a beat, he snapped out of his gaze and forced you to stand up with a gun behind your head. “Up on your feet!”

Mark and Haechan pushed the dead bodies, grunting at their weight before chasing after Seung and the captive. Mark pulled out his gun, aiming it at Seung’s direction before pulling the trigger. An ear piercing scream followed, Seung’s pace slowed down as he limped at the hit his leg took. He roughly grabbed the back of your shirt, pushing you forward in a rough manner.

All of you stopped running when you reached a river, everyone was panting heavily while you trembled as felt the gun pressed against your temple while Seung toyed with the trigger which made you even more terrified and anxious at the sounds.

“Come any closer or I won’t hesitate to shoot!” He threatened as he pulled you closer, closing your eyes at what will happen.

Mark raised his gun. “This is between you and I, Seung. Leave her out of this!”

“Or what?”

“Or else, you won’t like what I’ll do next.”

The tension was heavy between the men, it was silent that you can hear their breathing and the sound of the river nearby. The last thing you heard was someone yelling your name and a menacing laughter as you struggled against the river’s current. Your breath gets ragged as you grapple around to get more air, slowly losing your consciousness.

Meanwhile, Mark the man while Haechan immediately jumped into the river before it was too late. He was livid, not sparing mercy to his opponent while he landed blow after blow until he was sitting on top of him, beating him up senselessly.

“I won’t rest until I avenge my brother. I won’t lose!” Seung said weakly at him, reaching out for his neck in an attempt to strangle him.

He tried to pry it off but felt the grip getting tighter while his vision started to get hazy, his left hand snaked under his jacket before letting out a crooked smile.

His fingers held onto four ace cards, mockingly showing it to his opponent whose face showed visible confusion and horror. “I-i won.”

With a swift flick of a finger, the knife hidden underneath the cards came into a view. Without wavering, he made a deep incision on the left part of his neck. Blood started to seep from Seung’s mouth and neck, his hands falling unto his sides lifelessly. Mark stood up, satisfied with what he did and started to walk away from the body.

He’d have to make sure to call Jisung to dispose of this later.

Mark ran up to see Haechan kneeling beside your body. “How’s (y/n)?”

“As you can see, she still hasn’t woken up.” He replied as he gently placed his palm on your forehead, still cold to the touch.

A few moments later, you started coughing up all the water you’ve had before you slowly opened your eyes to look at Mark and Haechan looking back at you in relief.

“D-did I die?” You wheezed which earned a low chuckled from both of them.

“I like her already, can we keep her?” He shot Haechan a look before the said man raised his arm in surrender.

Placing his hand on your cheek and leaning his forehead against yours, ignoring your drench and cold form while he looks at you directly in the eye.

He mumbles as you feel his lips ghosting yours as he speaks. I’m glad you’re alive and safe.”

“I should be the one saying that to you. You’ve saved my life now, Mark.” You responded which elicited a small smile on both of your lips.

Your hands made their way on his jaw before you pulled him into a slow, gentle kiss. Almost forgetting what happened earlier due to the amount of overwhelming feeling of longing and affection you both felt for each other.

“Hyung, I’d appreciate it if you turned your mic off. You do know I can still hear you.” Renjun spoke from the earpiece.

The both of you pulled away, Mark flushed in embarrassment before he argued and jabbed incoherent insults to the person he’s talking to before helping you up on your feet.

Eight people crammed inside the van, it took a while for all of you to get inside as the others had important errands to do before hopping in. They were all interesting and rowdy individuals, even Mark got tired of telling them off. Your eyelids started to droop from fatigue.

“You should sleep, (y/n). It’s a bit of a drive to get back to the base.” Mark said as he adjusted his position so you can lean on his shoulder. “You can lay down on my shoulder.”

You moved a bit before placing your head on the slope of his shoulder. “Better?” He asked which earned a small nod from you.

“I’m good now. Thanks.” You muttered before drifting to sleep as you felt him rub circles on the back of your palm.

Mark tapped your shoulder when you all reached the base, everyone started to pile out while you two waited for your turn as you two sat by the back of the van. Courtesy of Chenle calling shotgun on the front seat where Mark usually sits during their missions.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take you home?” He asked as he helped you get out of the van, closing the door behind.

“With everything that just happened, I might get recurring nightmares.” You admitted, stretching your sore limbs.

Mark lets out a sigh and takes your hand into his, “I’m sorry for dragging you into this mess.”

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry about it.” You intertwined your hands with his before giving him a reassuring smile.He looks you in concern before he looks from afar before you two went inside the base, hand in hand.

It was a comforting, the feeling of his palm that radiated warmth despite knowing what it had done to unfortunate enemies that crossed his path and his fingers that slipped into yours. His shoulder occasionally bumps into yours, making you laugh. Maybe, you’ll get accustomed to this, being with him and entering his world.

#mark lee #cznnet #nct mark #nct dream #nct mafia au #nct 127 #mark fluff #mark angst #nct fic

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comfy-whumpee · 4 years

Text

Jessie 4

CN: food control/underfeeding, death mention.

Eating while blindfolded was a uniquely awful experience. Ty was forced to put his fingers all over the plate in search of food. No cutlery was given to him, of course – that would make it easier. Instead, it was an ordeal of hands and mouth and the terrible unknown of whether he was dropping things on the floor, and whether the mistress would whine at him for being ungrateful, 510.

But even that would have been bearable if the amount of food he was given was consistent.

It was a code he worked out slowly. She ate, and he got her leftovers, her plate passed down to him after meals. On days when he had done well, pleased her, leaned into her touches and ignored the aches and discomfort that weighed heavily on his body, she fed him well. She left half portions. She must have made extra to do it, just so that she could show her approval.

Sometimes, though, when he ran his fingers across the porcelain, there was nothing but chases of sauce and crumbs. He ate them anyway, because he knew he was supposed to, but it was the clearest sign of her displeasure he ever received.

Those days were the worst. Ty knelt on the floor, the plate pulled into his lap, fingers questing for food. Perhaps there was some patch of the plate he had missed, as he traced orbits around its rim. If there was something left when he was done, she would make a comment. She would ask if he wasn’t really hungry, or remark that she could have given him less. It was more irritation with him, more marks against him, less food the next day and more unpleasant prods and jabs from her when she sat with him.

But there was nothing. Not a single grain of rice. The plate was a barren wasteland and there was nothing to soften the ache. Worse, he knew she had done it deliberately.

After a few minutes, the Teacher took the plate from him and went to wash up, and Jessie took him back into his room and chained him to the wall. And left.

Ty sat on the floorboards, methodically nudging his collar in different directions to relieve the chafing, and thought. What had he done today to displease her so much? Why had she taken every possible scrap of food from him? Had he pulled away from some surprise contact? Had he showed hunger or tiredness on his expression? She didn’t like those things. She didn’t like any sign of his physical needs.

What could he do to repair it tomorrow? He had to lean into touches and show gratitude for her attention. He had to be exactly what she wanted, no more or less. He had a fairly good idea of what she wanted by now, from other days with other amounts of food. Would it be enough? It never felt like enough. It was never enough food.

When she came into his room in the morning, he forced himself to come to attention. He stirred, straightened, and turned his head up towards her, finding her location in the dark. He watched her like that, resting on his knees, on edge for the moment when she would give him attention.

Attention was terrible, but if he wasn’t given the chance to perform, he wouldn’t be able to earn his food.

He wondered whether the Teacher had learned that particular form of control from her.

She ignored him for what felt like an eon. He stayed exactly where he was. Fidgeting, restlessness, she didn’t like those either. He was a toy, and toys don’t move when they’re not being played with.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t draw attention to himself in any way. He showed willingness and that was all he was allowed.

Eventually, he heard the sound he’d been listening for: the firm double-pat of her calling him over. He moved, crawling, until he was at her feet, within easy reach. His breathing hitched when he felt something cold touch his chin and push it back. A pencil. Just a pencil.

Her fingers came next, a cloying, heavy press against his neck, over his pulse.

His pulse. She was measuring it. Listening to the movement that betrayed his stress. His own body would betray him, if he let it.

“Are you upset by something, 510?” she asked.

Ty breathed slowly. He focused. Slow, he willed his racing pulse. Slow down, slow down. He forced calm to settle across his body, clearing his head of predictions and questions and the ever-lurking grief of losing Jim, and he regained control. “No, Mistress.”

She made a squeaky noise of satisfaction. She let go of his neck, but then pulled his head down so that it was pressed between the sofa and her leg, and her fingers slithered in his hair. “Good. What should a toy have to be worried about, hm?”

“Nothing, Mistress.”

He checked his body, relaxed it. He kept his breathing even. No stress or discomfort was permitted to him. He needed to eat today.

She twitched and tugged his hair. She tweaked his ear. Her nails travelled down to the corner of his jaw, and lower, and she checked his pulse again. Surely she didn’t need to press that hard, did she?

Ty felt his heart beat at a more regular pace against the pads of her fingers. He hoped it was enough.

She gave no sign, as usual. She moved down to feel the scars on his back, turning his shoulder so that his face was fully pressed down into the cushion. He felt her count, one finger tapping along. He felt where she lost count as the lines crossed too thickly over his shoulder blades.

She got distracted. She ignored him again. He stayed exactly where he was, breathing in the musty fabric smell of her sofa.

She pressed them. Pinched them. Even Jim hadn’t touched them, ever.

She lost interest. After a while, she got up and left.

Ty stayed in place. Toys didn’t move when they weren’t being played with.

Dinner. Ty waited, perfectly still and quiet, as he heard the cooking sounds, and the light conversation, and the clinks and dings of crockery and glassware like shooting stars in the dark of his head. He could smell the pasta bake, had listened to the vegetables chopping, the pots bubbling and the whirr of the oven’s fan.

He waited. Perfect. Still and quiet.

The door opened and a plate was placed at his knees. “Here, 510.” He reached forwards.

The plate was warm. He pulled it towards him, and it was heavy with food. Almost a whole plateful.

He turned his head up towards her and smiled gratefully, just how she liked. She patted his head, and he didn’t flinch. She left him to eat in privacy, another gesture that showed how satisfied she was with his apology performance that day. He wouldn’t have to imagine her eyes on him this time.

He ate just where she’d left him, on his knees, and tried not to think about what he’d done to earn it. His skin burned, constantly, but it was necessary. He had to survive.

“He’s lived like this for two weeks,” the Teacher said, watching 510 through the glass pane in the kitchen-dining room door. “He only sees her. Only speaks to her. She controls how much he moves and eats and is touched. Even our stalwart 510 is struggling to keep his head above the water.” He laughed fondly, like a man watching a bad school play. “Don’t trouble yourself for his sake, though. She’s bored of him. In a couple of days, I’ll drive him out to a ditch. He won’t trouble us anymore.”

326 glanced away from Taial to the Teacher. “You’ll kill him, sir?”

“Well, I’ll have Arden do it. But yes.”

“Arden, sir?”

“Oh, you must have met him. He’s been one of mine for years. Black hair, little ponytail, blue eyes.”

The face came. “Yes, sir. I remember now.”

“Mm. One of my great success stories.” He was looking again at 510. “But! We’re moving onto even better things now.” His hand tugged 326 back to face the kitchen. “See that door? We had the utility room converted into a small bedroom for you some time ago. I understand you have a hobby of drawing, so there are some art supplies, a desk, your bed and dresser too, and a mirror. Alice told me how particular you were about your dress.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’ll come with me to work some days. Others, you’ll help my wife around the house. If you leave again, for any reason, I’ll have you killed as well. Understand?”

326 didn’t hesitate. Didn’t even blink. “Yes, sir.”

“Wonderful. I know you were the property of many people before now, but you know...”

“I was always yours, sir.” There was nothing negative in the tone. It was as certain as the sunset outside. “I know.”

#food tw #whump #whump fic #my fic #510 again #ty #jessie #the teacher #whumper return #touch aversion #forced to watch #manipulation #disordered eating #(involuntary)#underfeeding #blindfolded #conditioning #daveed

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emospritelet · 4 years

Text

Desperation - chapter 10

24: “You can move closer, I don’t bite”

I think you may have wanted this to be smutty, but I’m afraid it’s just domestic fluff XD

Prompt list here

[AO3]

Life at the Golds’ house continued in the same vein for another few days. Bae improved greatly, eating more and looking bright-eyed and restless. Gold was worse, eating little, drinking gallons of water and coughing most of the day. Belle was worried about him, but tried not to let Bae see it.

On Friday morning, they received their first delivery of groceries. Belle had been making a pot of tea when she heard a knock at the door, and she put the lid on the teapot and hurried to open it. A short, stocky man with a bristling black beard and a gruff expression was standing halfway down the path. A beanie hat was pulled down over the tops of his ears, and a thick scarf was wound around his neck. He gestured to the porch, and Belle looked down to see two large cardboard boxes stuffed with food and household items.

“Astrid said to say the medicine’s tucked down the side,” he said. “You tell Mr Gold and his boy to get well soon, you hear?”

“Thank you so much!” called Belle, and the man tapped his forehead with his fingers in a jaunty salute.

Picking up each of the boxes was a struggle; they were both heavy and awkward, but she managed to get her knees under the first and hoist it up into her arms. It was a relief to get to the kitchen and drop it onto the table. She hurried back for the second, and then shut the door again. It was just starting to rain, a fine drizzle coating the grass like dew, and she shivered and locked the door, trotting into the kitchen.

She found the paracetamol and put it aside. There was some cough syrup too, and throat lozenges. There was a four-pack of toilet paper, tampons and pads, some fabric softener and laundry detergent, hand sanitiser, soap and toothpaste, shampoo and shower gel. On the food side, the supplies were basic but useful. Two quarts of milk, a dozen eggs and a loaf of bread. A pack of butter. A block of cheese and a pack of bacon. Boxes of wheat flakes and crisped rice. Canned soup, beans and tomatoes and a package of pasta shapes. There were potatoes and carrots and a bag of apples.

She was pawing through the box when she heard a shuffling noise from the hallway, and glanced over her shoulder to see Bae, swaddled in a dressing gown too big for him with the hood pulled up, sleeves hiding his hands. He was hovering in the doorway, watching her.

“Hey, you’re up!” she said, with a smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay.”

He was shifting from foot to foot a little awkwardly, and Belle beckoned to him.

“You can move closer, I don’t bite,” she said cheerfully. “You want some breakfast?”

“Yes please.” He padded into the room, peering into the box curiously and picking up a box of wheat flakes. “Where did you get these?”

“Groceries, courtesy of the Mayor,” said Belle briskly, taking out the milk and putting it in the fridge. “You think maybe we can find something to tempt your dad?”

“Papa doesn’t eat cereal,” said Bae. “He likes to cook breakfast. He says it’s the most important meal of the day.”

“And he’s right,” said Belle. “But not everyone cooks as much as your papa. I guess they’re trying to cater for all tastes, huh?”

“I have cereal at Neal’s place sometimes,” he said.

“Who’s Neal?” asked Belle.

“Neal Nolan. He’s my best friend.”

“Your dad said he gets wool from the Nolans’ farm,” said Belle, remembering. “Is that Neal’s family?”

“Yeah.” Bae put down the box of cereal and picked up a jar of peanut butter, turning it over with a suspicious look on his face. “His dad has sheepdogs. And cats. The cats had babies just before I got sick. Papa said maybe we could get a couple of kittens.”

“Really? How cool.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know if we can,” said Bae, sounding morose. “I haven’t seen Neal in over a week.”

Belle thought for a moment.

“Well, do you want to give him a call?” she asked. “You could use my phone, if you like. If he has a cellphone, we could do a video call with him. Maybe see the kittens.”

Bae beamed at her.

“Can I?”

“Have some breakfast first, and then we’ll call,” said Belle. “I’m sure he’d love to hear from you.”

“Okay.”

“What do you want?”

“Uh - can I have eggs? Scrambled?”

“On toast?”

“Yes, please.”

“Any thoughts on what I can make your dad?” she asked. “He doesn’t seem to be eating much.”

“He likes sweet things,” said Bae. “Granny’s cookies and cherry pie, and cakes. Maybe - maybe we could make him cupcakes. Do you know how to make cupcakes?”

Belle pursed her lips.

“I bet we could find a recipe,” she agreed. “Let’s try that after you call your friend, hmm?”

“Great!”

Bell made scrambled eggs on toast for both of them, and drank two cups of tea while she ate it. Afterwards, she set up her phone on the kitchen table, propped up on some books, and sent Bae to find Neal’s number.

“It’s his mom’s number,” explained Bae, as Belle dialled.

A woman answered, short black hair above kind eyes and a bright smile.

“Uh - hello?” she said, looking uncertain.

“Hey,” said Belle. “I’m Belle, the new librarian. I’m staying with the Golds during lockdown, and Bae would like to know if he can speak to Neal.”

She moved aside a little for Bae to squeeze into the shot.

“Oh! Sure!” The woman beamed, and called over her shoulder. “Neal? Baeden’s calling you!”

There was a thunder of feet, and the woman disappeared, replaced by a young boy with light brown hair and hazel eyes.

“Bae!” he exclaimed. “Were you sick? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” said Bae. “This virus sucks. My dad’s really sick.”

“Ugh, sorry.” Neal wrinkled his nose. “Is he gonna be okay?”

“I think so. Belle’s looking after him.”

“Who’s Belle? Is that Belle?” Neal looked interested as Belle waved. “Did your dad get a girlfriend?”

Belle gathered up the breakfast dishes and carried them to the sink, trying not to laugh. She listened to the children chatting as she ran water for the dishes, and trotted upstairs to check on Gold. He was curled in bed, coughing into the sheets, and she shook her head at the sight of him. The room smelled of sickness, stale sweat and the faint whiff of lemon from the drink she had made to soothe his throat.

“Let me get you some more water,” she said, and Gold pushed himself upright, falling back against the pillows with a gasp.

“I need to get up,” he whispered.

“You do not,” said Belle firmly. “You need to rest. Bae and I have everything under control.”

“Is he okay?”

“He’s talking to Neal. I Skyped the Nolans.”

A faint smile.

“That’s good of you. He must be lonely.”

“He’s worried that he won’t be able to get the kittens you promised,” she said, and Gold’s smile widened.

“I’m sure they won’t love him any less for being a few weeks older.” He sat up a little more, raising his arm and sniffing before wrinkling his nose. “I have to take a shower, I’m disgusting.”

“You’ve done nothing but cough and sweat for days, of course you’re disgusting,” she said briskly, and he let out a low, tired chuckle.

“Great bedside manner, Nurse French,” he said.

“I like to think of it as firm but fair.”

“In that case, would you mind getting me some tea while I go and scrub some of the sickness away?”

“You want some breakfast?” she asked. “The groceries arrived. There’s cereal. Peanut butter. Bread, eggs…”

Gold wrinkled his nose.

“Just tea.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll try to eat something later.”

“Good. I’ll bring that tea and some more water.”

“Thanks.” He gave her a tired smile. “Thank you, Belle. Thank you for everything. I don’t know how we could ever have managed alone. I can never repay your kindness.”

“Good thing you don’t have to.”

His smile grew a little, but then his face fell, and he grabbed the blankets, tugging them up to his mouth before another coughing fit racked him. Belle shook her head.

“It’s really taking it out of you, huh?” she said, and he slumped back against the pillows, chest heaving.

“It’s exhausting,” he whispered. “Still, no rest for the wicked. I’m gonna drag myself to the shower.”

“I could change your bedsheets, if you like.”

Gold nodded wearily.

“Clean sheets? That sounds wonderful.”

Belle stripped the bed while he was in the shower, balling up the sheets and putting on fresh. The shower was still running, and she gathered up the dirty bedclothes, trotting downstairs to put on a load of laundry. Bae was still chatting to Neal, and Belle left him to it, pouring out a cup of tea and carrying it upstairs. The shower had shut off, and she set down the cup on Gold’s nightstand, turning just as he opened the bedroom door, a towel around his waist and his hair wet. He took a step back, one hand flailing at the door as he staggered, the other clutching frantically at his towel as it started to slip off, and Belle scuttled back out of his way. He was very thin, his ribs showing in faint lines beneath his skin, his chest smooth and his muscles small and firm. She found that her eyes were following a bead of water as it tracked its way down over his belly, and hurriedly swept her gaze back up to find him staring at her wide-eyed.

“Sorry!” said Belle hastily, feeling her cheeks flush. “Sorry. I just - there’s your tea. I’ll get out of your hair.”

She stepped to the right just as he did, then to the left, and Gold clutched at the door for dear life, shuffling out of her way until Belle could duck through the door. She hurried downstairs, still blushing, and found that Bae had ended his call to Neal and was putting away the breakfast dishes she had washed.

“Right,” she announced, trying to push the image of a nearly-naked Gold from her mind. “Cupcakes. Let’s find a recipe.”

#fic: desperation #sprite's pandemic promptathon #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #my fic

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namjoonchronicles · 5 years

Text

million dollar houses | nj, yg

↳ pairing namjoon, you, yoongi

↳ genre drama, fluff, angst, romance, crime

↳ words 6.5k

↳ warnings strong language, description of murder, mentions of prostitution, findom, eloping

↳ notes this was in the wips for about two years before i muster up all courage to have it finished. to me it was the sexiest story i’ve written of namjoon because he has tattoos and whatnot, but the reason why it took as long as it did, was i lacked faith in my writings. when i find a wimp of confidence, i went on and finished it, so here it is, pls enjoy them

↳ summary weeks before the wedding, lawyer min yoongi, your fiance had met up with a client who was charged with a homicide case. seems bleak and unimportant, until you saw this handsome client whom you recognize as your ex-boyfriend with a non-violent history, namjoon. armed with a messy break-up and lingering feelings, will you choose your past with namjoon or will you go forward with yoongi?

One look in my eyes and you should know the truth.

Fumbling with his keys, Yoongi was holding the car keys in between his lips, struggling to shove the key into the keyhole of your apartment. It was not even 7AM and he is already suffering. He had at least three paper bags in one arm and coffee in another and it forced out of him a small strange groan as he managed to twist the keys to open.

"Done," he exasperated. As if it were quite the hassle.

Upon the sounds of the door opening, you winced in bed, but not quite wanting to open your eyes though you hear him affectionately call you, "...babe, I'm home!"

A few things dropped while he walked in and the door slammed shut behind him.

"Fuck, crap," he cursed and set the things on the table except one paper bag that he brought to you in your bedroom.

He simply pushed the door and placed the bag on the empty space of your bed and crawled on all fours with a cheeky over-energized grin plastered on his baby face. The bed dips as his weight begins to settle on it, his body heat radiates to you and it makes you frown.

"You didn't sleep well after I told you the confirmation date, did you?"

He lowers himself to kiss your shoulder and trail them along your neck and jawline until finally your lips, where he lingered longer than the others. He giggles low and brush his lips to the helix of your ear, whispering hotly, "Brought you coffee."

Sliding your hand up his shoulder with your eyes closed still, you circled your arm around his neck and pulled him for a peck with a small suggestive moan, "Tell me all the things I want to hear...you know the way to my heart, mister..." you scrunch your face, and let out a question in a feigned manner, "...who are you again?"

Yoongi bit his lips, and hummed, "Oh dearie, you shouldn't be in my bed if you don't remember my name. And I'm pretty sure it was the only name you chanted a few days ago. This is unfair," he pouted.

"What's unfair?" You peeked at him through one eye. "...I know what your name is, but you don't remember mine..." he murmured, "I'm disappointed, Mrs. Min."

You pinched his chin and shaked it lightly, "Soon. Eager are we."

Yoongi handed you your coffee while you're still seated in bed. He took the paper bag earlier and folded one leg underneath him, "Look what I got from Innisfree."

You took a mouthful gulp of coffee and shook your head out to feigned disapproval.

"...a 100 more days set for a bride-to-be!" Yoongi rejoiced.

"I know, I'm the best fiance there is," Yoongi boasted and had to gulp down the drink in a hurry.

"I didn't know they have these..." You gasped, eyes crinkling at the corners in graceful excitement and collected the box in your hand, gingerly, carefully and so appreciatively. Someone would get you something as expensive and as thoughtful as these. Coming from a male perspective, Yoongi is highly unusual. Be it his love towards Holly, the house dog, and children.

"And, the invitation cards are ready. So we are going to the print shop to fetch it. And then we have food tasting next week," Yoongi listed, "I've emptied my schedule for the whole week. So you don't have to worry about that."

You leaned your head on his shoulder, sitting face to face, "Oh thank goodness for your existence. I have Hoseok's birthday to worry about and I'm about to go insane, and then there's yours too...holy fuck."

Piling yourself with a humanly impossible task is never the plan. The wedding had to be around May this year, and you have been planning it for at least a year. The invitation cards are ready and it feels so real now that Yoongi brought you the things you needed to organize the wedding.

Sometimes things get too difficult too handle that you almost give up. Thankfully, Yoongi understood the pressure of a wedding and so he catches everything that falls out of your hand, metaphorically speaking. Yoongi too is as busy as you are, he had just started his own firm and under the guidance of your father, he was able to organize a few things on his own.

Sometimes, you worry that you're taking up his time by being an emotional wreck especially at the eve of wedding planning, but Yoongi proved to you that it was nothing more than just a mood swing--something he had been effortlessly finding his way about. He was needless to say, impressive in his way of dealing with ordeals that you find meticulous. A God-sent lovable creature who fills your hole in the most enchanting way he could. Although sometimes he struggles with fitting his own time. Like right now, when you sit next to him in the car and he is fumbling on his phone with an unsettling frown on his face. You knew instantly that he was trapped in between something.

"What's wrong honey?" You asked. He hisses before answering, "I forgot that I promised a client to meet today."

"Can't it be postponed until tomorrow?" "The client specifically said today so I don't think he's going to be here tomorrow, what do we do? This case is big, and if I win it, I can give the firm a new recognition and it will be a good start for the firm."

Yoongi chewed his lips. You fished out your phone to call the printing company and tell them that you can't take the printed invitation cards today. The smile on Yoongi's face was indescribable. Although it was brief, you could feel the sincerity.

"What's the case about?" You watched him as he drives. His cream coloured turtle neck covers up until underneath his jaw and his black long coat made his eyes look striking brown. He's breathtakingly beautiful, this lawyer who stole your heart.

"...It's a homicide." He flipped the cars' blinkers to the right and turned the wheel with the heels of his palm, while grumbling low, trying to remember the details of the case.

"My client pleads not guilty to a murder of a man in cement tank...remember that body that came in the news? When you stayed over at my place?"

You blinked a few times, trying to remember.

That night? You had spicy rice cakes and Yoongi's kimchi fried rice. It was extra delicious and he allowed you to stay overnight when he was preparing an argument draft in his legal pad, watching Law & Order Season 8. When he took a phone call and walked to his study room, he left a file open on the dining table. Your fingers were curious about it and so you took time to read what's written on the reports. There were several pictures of gang tattoos and one very disturbing picture of a dead body, found in a hardened cement. And just then, the midnight news covered the story. Your eyes darted to the large screen and you stepped away from the table to watch. Yoongi joined you after a bit.

"A body of a man found in the hardened cement tank a few days ago had been confirmed to be a twenty-two year old young men name, Park Jihoon, who was a Seoul University's dropout. Park was an Advanced Chemistry student who obtained a scholarship from the nation's education bank due to his impressive scores in the last exam held by the International Chemistry Olympiad, it brought pride to the nation."

Your hand dropped to Yoongi's knees as he sat next to you on the couch. "Park's death had been ruled as homicide and investigations are still ongoing. In other news..."

The value of a human is ridiculed nowadays. The strong feeds on the poor down to their dying days. You remembered, feeling repulsive on the thought. Who would want to kill such an aspiring child? He was going to be someone important.

"Yes I remembered that." Yoongi tutted his tongue at your response.

"My client is the one who was accused of killing the boy. He's a gangster." Your eyes bored into Yoongi's unaffected side profile.

Although there was a tinge of guilt in the way his eyes flickered, you knew he wasn't telling you a hundred percent. Yoongi isn't the kind to hide things from you.

"So you're defending this client." Your voice died.

Yoongi puckered his lower lips over the top one and stuck his eyes on the view ahead, "Innocent until proven guilty, remember? If I win this case, my firm will soar."

Blinking away, you stared at the trees on the side of the streets. Things always look different from a moving car. Perceptions. What people choose to see and what is the real truth, Yoongi's job often put him in between good and evil. They say, lawyers have one feet in hell, the other in heaven. And it seemed that he understood your silence.

"I know what you're thinking. But beggars can't be choosers. My clients pay me. And it isn't always about the money, I know. There's always two sides of the story. This case is important to me as how important it is to my firm..." Yoongi persuaded you with his soft tone.

"Ilsan Brotherhood," you shot and Yoongi intercepted, "How did you know?"

You stared at the pavements where people were walking on.

"I read about it, in one of my father's files. They are not to be toyed around with, Yoongi. They are out for blood and most of the time, they will come home with one."

You warned him. "Whatever you have against them, it will not change my mind about taking this case, I'm sure my client is innocent. You haven't heard his side of the story." Yoongi is stubborn. He lets the idea of how winning this case will bring him pride and joy when you feared for his life.

Ilsan Brotherhood was not a stranger to you. They are the most active syndicate since the 2000s up until now. Even your little brother have heard of it.

"Can I come with you?" You unfastened your seatbelt. "Stay in the car." Yoongi shot.

He shut the car door that is parked by the large road, opposed to a bathhouse. You know this bathhouse, it has a Japanese restaurant link to it. Maybe you can't go in the bathhouse, but you can see that the restaurant’s bathroom is connected.. You exited the car and followed after Yoongi's footsteps but instead of entering the bathhouse where he is, you walked into the Japanese restaurant.

"A table for one, in a private room please?" You smiled. And she directed you to the room. They only have a wall made out of bamboo sticks and after the waitress left, you sneaked out of that room and sneak your way through the bathhouse. Until you heard Yoongi's voice coming from the end of the hallway.

"Fuck, he's in the restaurant..." You cursed in your head and scrambled to enter another private room that was thankfully empty but strangely had the lights on.

"...Meticulous, but we can find another loophole in the matter if we look close enough to the witness account," Yoongi commented and is walking in the room where you were.

"So this is the private room of the restaurant that conveniently is connected to the bathhouse?" Yoongi asked and you panic because you hear his footsteps coming nearer and nearer to the sliding door. That's when you crawled into an empty cupboard that was there, fit yourself in the lowest compartment and folded your legs in as small as you can be, leaving a tiny gap open, just large enough for your eyes to see and listen.

"Yoongi is going to kill me..." you thought to yourself but you were honestly not scared.

You only feared getting caught.

Yoongi folded his legs underneath and that's when the Japanese sliding door opened to reveal a tattooed young man with the clear words in big blocks of Old English font: Sinner; on his back. You held your breath and widened your eyes. This man, gangster, who was putting on his Japanese robe, had striking blonde hair and undercut on the sides. His brows strong and purposeful in one glimpse, charismatic in another. You knew that this man was a leader with many loyal followers.

Yoongi was incredibly relaxed and you could tell that it was not his first time meeting this man. He was also cautious enough not to let you know.

"I'm sorry I almost forgot about today," Yoongi started to explain himself and next to Yoongi was another men with long earrings, chirpy and far too smiley to be in a gang, but he oozes an aura of loyalty. It's really difficult to see who else was there but you held on to listen more.

"The boss had been enduring several sleepless nights because he had been getting some unwanted calls from the authorities and wondering if there's anyway you could, pardon the harshness of my words, shut them up..." The young man had a high-pitched voice.

"I know, I've been pulling some strings as well, but it will take time. I want to talk to Namjoon...Jimin, alone." Yoongi dropped his gaze on the table and Namjoon eyed Jimin to leave.

"...I will have to know what happened that night Namjoon," Yoongi explained, "I can't help you if you don't tell me a hundred percent."

Namjoon was visibly obedient by the request. He nodded twice and inhale then exhale, "I will give you all the information needed. I'm not exactly a clean slate to begin with," His voice was an octave lower than Yoongi's. More stories about to be unfold, once Namjoon fixed an appointment to meet Yoongi again, at a later and a more convenient time.

Yoongi excused himself and left Namjoon alone. You watched him sat there, hanging his head low before straightening up in his seat to nip another roll of sushi in his mouth. You were absolutely unafraid.

Yoongi returns to an empty car. He spun around to search for you. "Where the hell did she go?"

Pushing the sliding door open slowly, Namjoon froze in his seat, reaching for a blade underneath his cushion. He softens when he saw a drape of long hair falling on each side of your shoulder. Crawling on all four, you grunted out of your hiding place. And Namjoon began to chew slowly as if it didn't bother him.

"Didn't think I'd meet you this way," he grumbled.

"How much do I need to pay you to not bother Yoongi?" You spat.

And Namjoon answered that with a low chuckle. "...you think you can afford me?" He smiled to his food.

"I'm not playing Namjoon. He's not one of you." You warned, standing up.

"Because he graduates from law school and is from a good family? Congratulations," he was bemused by it.

You rolled your eyes to the side. Namjoon shoved another sheet of dried laver into his mouth. Unaffected by your childish play, he stares back at you like an audience to a performer. He was rather enjoying this.

"You didn't see me here today," you warned him, feet halfway out of the room when you heard Namjoon say, "No reunion kiss?"

Growling inwardly, you left the room undetected at came out of the Japanese Restaurant.

"Where were you?" Yoongi asked from a distance.

"I went to the bathroom, I was about to pee in my pants!" You jogged to him, crossing the empty street. "Hurry, we can still catch up if we go right now. The printing shop is still open."

You sat in the car while Yoongi settled the bills in the printing shop. Your phone dings a message from an unknown number. It said only one thing,

"Pandora, @ 1am."

Of course he'll have your number. Namjoon is capable of anything, including murder.

The faceless and nameless man is Kim Namjoon. Watching Yoongi walked back into the car with two bags full of printed invitations card, you felt your heart tug.

You were certain that this meeting needed to be done so he knows where you stand. You have a life now, and you're determined to keep it. That's why you're here in Pandora at 1 AM as instructed.

Namjoon stood by the handrails, overlooking the night sky, in a grey tuxedo and black dress shirt that compliments his blonde hairdo. His long arm stretch along one side while the other is holding a glass. Musky scent filled the open air on the verandah, in contrast of the hyped clubbing floor just underneath. The smell of cigarettes was still lingering around your nose making you appreciate Namjoon's cologne. Hearing the sound of your sneakers on the wooden surface of the veranda, Namjoon tipped his head up to the night sky, downing a glass of bourbon in his hand.

"Cancer sky's out here tonight to mock me, despicable stars," he rolled his head around, still giving you his back, "Funny how I almost thought you wouldn't come," he added a dry chuckle.

"I came to tell you that it's finally over," you sounded determined. Namjoon hung his head low then throw his head back, in a manner that a broken man should behave.

"He's treating you well?" he paused, smiling at the sky and biting his lips, "...With his expensive Rolex and Gucci ties, his Rolls Royce and wit? You like how he treats you?" He tries to edge you, he turns around to face you, leaning his back to the rails and watch the drink in his swirl with a tut of his tongue, his lips parted a little.

His elbow is on the handrail, as he took another sip, "You've always liked men in high places. Always falling for a fool with great brains," he said in a mocking tone. You marched straight at him and gritting your teeth while he fixes his stance, you growled, "...At least I was not starving."

His personal space was invaded and it was nothing foreign to him, "...I'll give him credit for that." He cocked his eyebrow, gliding his eyes away from you, challenging.

"It's always been about the money isn't it?" You heard him say, pulling his gaze back to you and you stepped back when he took a step forward, downing another painful gulp of strong alcohol into his throat. But the burns he felt in his systems is not as horrific as the wounds you left on him.

You spun around, throwing your hands in your hair before you turn to him and shove him back once, twice.

"I fucking loved you Namjoon. Very much," you growled in his face and stepped away, facing away from him.

"Yeah, but not enough to stay..." Namjoon taunted you while he tailed you.

You faced him one more time. Tears brimming, glassy eyes and pained.

"I would have died for you..." you choked, and, "...I would have fucking died for you."

You pushed banged his chest with your fist and gradually, you weakened as the tears spills.

"You know what we had, it was real..." your lips quivered, your eyes pleading at him to understand.

But his gaze remains hard and unaffected. Those eyes used to be so soft on you. Those hands only held yours and those arms were your home. Those lips belong to you and they say all the things you want to hear. Those intense gaze was yours to take.

Namjoon was yours, all yours.

In a small apartment in the outskirts of town, not more than five years ago, with broken windows and one bedroom, you were so in love. It was your little paradise where Namjoon is a troubled boy everyone stayed away from. Who gave you a peek of his sentimental side and made you fall for his dimpled smile, Namjoon was stained soul with untainted heart. But his appearance made people stay away from him. He couldn't find a job because people don't want to employ a young adult with a mistake he made in his teens. You were his only support system. With no job that pays enough, you were the one sacrificing your time to work in two places. You tutored in the day and worked in a convenience store at night. He walked you to work and back. And even when he smiles, you know he was upset.

"What's wrong baby?" You asked, curling your arm around his waist as you walked. Some people passes you by.

He dropped his gaze to the floor, "...I know what impressions I gave out. I see them giving me 'the eye'. I know I'm a piece of trash, they don't need to be loud about it. The car wash center fired me today, and no pay..." He chuckled dryly and you stopped in your tracks.

Namjoon continued walking but halted after a bit, turning his side at you.

"Come on, I want to be home," he waved his hand, coaxing you to come to him, "The rent is due this week and I have no idea how to pay that," he mumbled.

You put money into an envelope and slid them in the drawer when Namjoon showered. You were prepared. You always put money aside in case shit happened. He slid into the single bed with you, smelling like soap. The bed is so small, your legs overlapped his just to give him more space. Laying on top of him will provide both of you enough space to wriggle about, so it has been a common practice. You lay your head next to his chest where you could hear his heartbeat while his hand will find their way on the small of your back, rubbing them in meaningless circle, thumbing your flesh to soothe you. His touches are always entrancing, gentle and tender. Unlike anything his tattoos represent. He called your name when you're half awake, in whispers, and,

"Do you ever feel like leaving me?" He asked in a small gritty voice, "...you can have a better life without me, you know..." He blinked at the ceiling and inhaled.

That's when you gaze up to him in a newfound consciousness and gave him a peck on the lips, "...Don't say things like that, you know I would never survive a day without you."

He switches on his side and make you lay on your side as well. You lay face to face, while his arm draped lazily over your thin waist. Nose clashing with each other as he sighed,

"I only want what's best for you. I cannot promise you things I want to give you. I want to give you so much...I don't deserve you," his eyes were frightened so they glided away from you.

You look at him with certainty and affections, "...Hey, look at me."

They trail up to you, slowly, almost hesitantly, "...You will find another job. And they'll pay better. And don't worry about the rent, I got you," You patted his chest gently, twice, and an assured smile. He thumbed your chin and then let his thumb ran along the length of your lower lip. His eyes were fixated on it and slowly, he placed them in between his very own, and began to suckle them softly.

"What are we doing baby?" You sighed when he dove his face in your neck, and you feel his lips on that small patch of skin that's known to drive you over the edge without him doing much.

"...The only way I know now that will make you instantly happy," he grazed his teeth on that same spot, pulling you closer than you already are, his voice already throwing your conscience out the window. You don't have to tell him where to caress. Namjoon knows every little spot that would make you weak, like it was in the back of his hand. Guaranteed to make you a writhing mess underneath him.

Making love in small tight places. The fact that you can't make noises makes it even better and rewarding.

When it's good, it’s going great.

But desperation could drive any sane man to become what he's not. Namjoon was going to make money, and he didn't care how.

He didn't like to see you working two jobs and the household is doing things the other way around. You were earning money and raising him. It scarred his pride. So he resorted to the one place you told him not to go, the club. He was quickly and most frequently booked by many wealthy females.

Most of them were lonely widows and secret mistresses of powerful men, who paid Namjoon a remarkable amount of money for his time and a little fun. All the while he was beginning to create his rapport, he had money stacked in one bank account. No longer were you starving to pay the rent and even though he sometimes disappeared into thin air when you search for him, being able to afford things was becoming more important than the reason behind his frequent absence. He was extremely generous in bed and he got better with his words and brought himself with more confidence than before, it was a very good change.

He brought you out of that shitty apartment to a better one.

You have more space but you felt him drifting away. And you don’t know why.

Walking home from work, alone is your everyday now. Namjoon traded his casuals to tuxedos and sandals to leather shoes. He began to bring home many colognes and tell you that it was a gift from the marketing team. One night you found a pink vibrant G-string in his black pants, while doing the laundry. Unable to wait for him to leave the tub, you stormed into the bathroom and threw them in his face. Disappointment. Betrayal.

Namjoon grabbed his robe and went after you, chanting, "Baby, I can explain! Its yours. I got it for you..." A stinging slap went across his face.

"You think I didn't know..." you tipped your head to one side, quizzically, grumbling back at him with glassy eyes, "I know you're fucking around with the widows in this city Namjoon. And wealthy women, you like money that much that you sold your dignity?" You cocked your head to one side, your voice clipped. You grabbed his wallet and took out all the cards he had.

"Thank you for tonight. I had a lot of fun after a long time." "Namjoon, I look forward to our next meeting." "I'm all yours Mr. Kim."

You scoffed. "You create quite a stir now ha... tattooed good-looking man with incredible proportions, you loved the attention? How dare you come home and kiss me with those filthy lips of yours."

"You wanted money. We wanted money." "Gained the right way!" You raised your voice at him. "Well the right way is taking too long!" And he roared just as loud.

You turned away from him, "...Unbelievable."

Namjoon shook his head, pinching his temples between two hands, "...Let's talk about it in the morning," he reaches for your arm and you yanked them away at once.

"Get your hands off of me," You grumbled. He clenched his jaws.

You grabbed your jacket and put on your jeans while he sat on the edge of the bed, covering his face and exhaling.

"Where are you going...it's 3AM," He sighed, "You're giving me a hard time right now. I did what I needed to do," he watched you shove some clothes in a backpack.

You added a chuckle, "My ass. If I was selling myself, we would make more than you ever did."

Zipping them up angrily, "Have fun fucking girls while I'm gone. I'm never coming back. You can give them my clothes," You yanked the door open and stormed out.

“I gave you everything you wanted… a better house, pretty clothes, good food, how dare you do this to me…” he growled, holding the door shut as you struggle to leave.

“That was what you wanted!” you roared in his face, and he visibly froze. You softened,

“I only wanted you,” your voice cracked, brittle and hushed.

It was obvious that he didn’t want the same thing. He was blinded by wealth. And he got comfortable standing on the middle ground at the cost of his soul.

Namjoon's performance dwindled down. He began losing clients, one by one. And although he had more than enough to maintain his lifestyle, he can never fill the hole you left. You cut too deep and he didn't intend to have your replacement anytime soon. His heart was a fool for you and only you.

You were gone for weeks. Jumping to one bathhouse to another with some money you saved from having two jobs. Namjoon knew where you worked so you decided to leave that job and find another. You took wages in doing small sewing jobs just to keep up with yourself. And one night, your free-lance job brought you back to Namjoon's place. You wondered from outside his windows why it's still on. Sitting at the curb to watch some more, you had clothes barely enough to keep you warm, gazing up at the level of his apartment. His extravagant penthouse.

"...Are you sleeping well without me?" You whispered to him as if he was there next to you. You fold your arms and rested them on your knees before laying your head on top of it. I’m not sleeping at all, you whispered in your heart.

Namjoon on your side of the bed. His eyes were unforgiving and he didn't allow himself to sleep since you left. He was going insane on his own that he began to speak to you as if you're in the same room.

"I left the door unlocked, and there's keys under the mat," he said. He sets two plates on the table when he eats while even without you. Bought your favourite chocolate bars that you two used to share. He sat in the walk-in wardrobe and took one of your clothes before sniffing them, inhaling your scent because he misses you so much he could barely think.

"Please come back... please." He prayed. It's just not the same without you.

You remember it all. How he stood by the lamp post with his flyers promoting jobs in his worn out shoes and foolish smile to every stranger that passes him by. Those flyers get stepped on, thrown away and torn. You remember how you gave up half of your instant noodles, so he could have more. Money pinching life, but the happiest you had ever been in your entire existence. It didn’t matter if it was raining and he’s drenched, giving out flyers, it didn’t matter if your back is sore from washing dishes in a nearby diner and finger calloused from days on end using detergents, it didn’t matter that it was a hard life to live because Namjoon was there to help you go on. You had Namjoon,

and that was enough.

Just weeks to spare until the wedding. Invitation cards stack on the corner of your shared room. You shouldn’t be thinking about another man in the bed you shared with your fiance. You shouldn’t be thinking about his smile, or his laugh, or the way he looked at you. You shouldn’t be able to word every touch and every moment you spent with him. You shouldn’t be able to make of the shape of his face, the sound of his voice when he is angry, when he is happy or when he is sad, or remember with utmost precision where all his birthmarks are and you shouldn’t have remembered where your favorite one is, the one that’s on his upper right thigh. You shouldn’t be able to point the scars on his right knee and how long it was. You remembered him details. You remembered Namjoon in details. And it’s a wretched thing to do for a bride-to-be.

Tears streamed across your nose bridge, as you lay on the side, boring into the view of an opaque translucent curtain, moving softly. You wipe the tears harshly, with the back of your hand, along with the thoughts of Namjoon and that’s when you hear Yoongi coming in.

“Why are you’re up so late?” he crawled into bed, holding the blankets up, simultaneously, pressing his lips on your shoulder, draping his arm around your waist, inhaling your scent. Thunder crackling in the black sky, flickering lightning behind thick puffs of clouds, and then,

The rain pours. Just like that night.

Dusk until dawn, you promised me.

Not even the rain could stop you two from wanting to dance in the streets. Your skin is wet from sweat and it washed down from the heavy rain. Big smiles on both of your faces, he twirls you around and you go on your tippy toes feeling absolutely safe even when the lightning strikes. Sharing one cup of noodles in the convenient store because that was all you could afford to not go starving for the night. You sewing up his only dress shirt’s button on while he stares down fondly at you, holding up the flashing lights because the room you both rented had the electricity cut off from outstanding bills. You both had nothing, and yet, everything.

You promised that I won’t be alone, and when things go wrong, you’d still be here. You promised. You lied.

You were a fool in love. You gave up your family for that boy. And where else could you have gone, if not back to your family? They built you up from scrap, had you meet the man you’re with today. The wind strikes your face the same way it did with Namjoon, but with feigned calamity. A false security and deceitful smile. Are you convincing yourself that you’re okay with the man you’ve promised to marry? Or are you deceiving yourself into believing that he was right to marry? Especially when you saw his greed to defend someone in the wrong? Just for the sake of his firm?

An unfinished business. A lingering string of thoughts. It buzzes through Namjoon’s mind as he sat in his leather chair, swirling his glass of wine. Scents of Mahogany strikes up his nostril, drilling through his thoughts at the possibility of jail time should he be proven guilty. The boy. Right, the college Chemistry boy.

He threatens the market. It was the only market that feeds Namjoon of his lavish expenses,his uncontrollable urge to possess everything he only dreamt of.

“It was the words that came out of that boy that made me feel he shouldn’t be alive,” Namjoon arched an eyebrow and Yoongi visibly stiffened. Tactless, and merciless--was the way he said it. Namjoon really did sell his soul to the devil. And he proceed to gorily describe how he killed the boy.

“He regurgitates, sputtering blood all over the cord I wrapped around his Adam’s apple, and I dragged his pulsating body through the dirt and put his face into the liquid cement that hasn’t dried. Then I put his entire body inside…” Namjoon’s dark gaze lifts up to meet Yoongi’s and he did the unthinkable,

He smiled.

Without remorse.

“D’you know what he said?” Namjoon rests his elbows on the edge of the table, “Called me a beggar. The nerve of that boy.” He chuckled. But Yoongi didn’t join.

Namjoon downed a mouthful of wine and left his chair. Army of loyal followers waiting for him outside. The police are at the door, with handcuffs. They have him remanded until trials began. Will he remains his stance as not guilty? It is hardly so, now that Yoongi had known the truth. The prosecution's will soon find out what other crimes he did. And he will be in jail for good. While he got remanded, he received a visitor.

“Does your fiance know, you’re here?” he asked, with that boyish grin you were familiar with.

“He won’t, if you don’t tell,” you snapped.

You took one long look to his figure, his face, the features that stood out, the tattoos that boldly peek through his neck hole and syncopate on his skin, his forearms and knuckles.

“Do they make you stronger? Those drawings on your skin?” you asked, through your lashes and your eyes tips up to meet his.

“The pain that comes while I’m getting them, does. It made me feel something after you were gone,” he shrugs his shoulders, sitting slouched in his chair.

“I’m getting married, Namjoon,” not wishing to beat around the bush anymore, you shot, “I’m really getting married…”

Namjoon jutted his chin out, hollowed his cheeks and somberly nodded. His gaze cast down to his lap, “I know…I’ll be in jail.”

You don’t love him, you pitied him. At least, that’s what you told yourself, forcing your eyes stay open and it stings, till tears fall to your cheek.

“Don’t cry,” he whispered, even though he wasn’t even looking at you, he knew, and, “You should be happy, Yoongi’s a great person. You’ll be very happy. Even within this thick walls, I still make you cry…”

“Don’t tell me what to do…” you grumbled. Wiping your tears with the back of your hand, you grab your purse and took out a bank account book he had shipped to your home address, “I can’t accept this.”

Along with the handwritten letters that came with it.

The chair scratched against the concrete floor, and Namjoon stared at the bank account book while you exited the room. His lips hung open and he blew hot air to his forehead as the door slammed shut behind you.

The crowds begin to cheer as you walk into the aisle, hand-in-hand with your father. He had a vibrant smile on, to match your subtle ones. And at the end of the aisle was Min Yoongi, your soon-to-be husband. And with every step approaching him, you leave Namjoon and his words behind.

This bank account I started when we rented a room in that run-down apartment.

Veils covered your face. Forward.

I made a vow that I’ll give them to you once the money inside is enough for a decent wedding.

Heart thumps. You tighten your grip around your father’s arm. Forward.

Of many promises that went unfulfilled,

Your knees feel loose but you held on. Forward. Forward.

At least I could fulfill these.

One last row and Yoongi is within reach. Forward.

I wish you happiness, even without me.

Namjoon basks in the sun in his prison attire, by the monkey bars, pondering about the love he had once received, and now lost.

The cost of a million dollar house is his soul, his future and his past.

End.

242 notes · View notes

gcthamqueen · 4 years

Text

Title: she’s like the den mother of hell.

Summary: “If Perse is here in the ass crack of nowhere Connecticut in the middle of winter, what does that tell you about what’s happening in the Netherworld right about now?”

———

A year after the events of the musical, a freak day of scorching sun in the middle of a Connecticut winter lands the queen of the Netherworld in the middle of the Deetz-Maitland household.And they thought letting Beetlejuice stay with them would put an end to the majority of their supernatural weirdness.

Link: [ao3]

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chapter one: winter’s nigh and summer’s o’er.

A freak weather phenomenon sweeps through Winter River, as Lydia and Beetlejuice make a discovery on a trip to the local graveyard.

It takes a moment, when Beetlejuice suddenly finds himself awake in the early hours of the morning, for him to realise what had dragged him back to awareness.

The last time he can recall feeling something even a little bit similar to the distinctive thrum of the supernatural currently making the hair on his arms stand on end had been a year ago when his mother had emerged from the Netherworld intent on claiming Lydia, her fury practically rolling off her in waves. But this is something he barely recognises, especially after the last year spent mostly outside of the Netherworld, and nothing he can recall coming into contact with previously had been potent enough to wake him up like this.

Throwing back the covers and climbing out of bed, he yawned widely and raked a hand through his eternally messy hair as he phased through the door to head downstairs and raid the fridge. It had been an admittedly bizarre year in the wake of his first encounter with the Deetz family and the Maitlands. Despite his initial return to a Juno-less Netherworld, Beetlejuice had ended up returning to the living world because somewhere very deep down - not that he’d ever actually admit it - he’d missed the breathers and newly-deads too much. So it had been months of Lydia wearing away at her living and ghostly parents to allow him to move in and earning his way into the family’s good graces. Somewhere along the way, he’d even become Lydia’s big brother to explain his presence to anyone in Winter River who might ask, which had warmed his cold dead heart more than he’d care to admit.

Padding down the stairs, he wasn’t particularly surprised to find Adam and Barbara in the kitchen, working on preparing the beginnings of a breakfast for when the resident breathers woke up.

“Woke you dorks up too, huh?” He asked, opening the fridge to rifle through it for the leftover Chinese food from the previous night.

“That energy spike?” Barbara replied, “Yeah. It’s the strangest thing. Everything feels all...heavy, I guess. Like the air right before a storm.”

“It is way too early in the morning to be gettin’ all poetic like that, Babs,” Beetlejuice grinned as he scooped a handful of fried rice into his mouth with his fingers.

“What was it anyway?” Adam asked, moving to drop a fork into the takeout carton in response to him eating with his hands.

“Hell if I know, A-Dog,” Beetlejuice shrugged as he continued with the food, albeit now with the fork, “Something supernatural’s all screwy. Couldn’t tell you why though. Sometimes it just happens.”

Eventually, he found his way into the living room to pass out on the couch for another few hours, only to be woken up by Lydia practically throwing herself on his back.

“Morning Beej!”

“You’re chipper this mornin’, Scarecrow,” he grinned, squirming around to get her in a headlock and give her an affectionate noogie, making her shriek with laughter and wriggle out of his grasp.

“It’s the first proper day of my holidays and it’s actually nice out,” she replied, “We can head down to the graveyard and start on those photos I’ve been wanting to take.”

“Nice out? I thought it was snowing.”

“Geez, when you sleep, you really sleep, huh?” Lydia mused, gesturing to the living room window, “It’s been super sunny since I woke up.”

Sure enough, despite the snow, the sky seemed as blue and clear as the middle of summer, the sun beating down across the barren trees at the edge of the garden and the existing layer of snow.

“Huh,” he mused, tilting his head to one side like a dog, “Sure is. Well, might as well make the most of it, Lyds. Kick your holidays off in style.”

As the teenager clattered her way upstairs to change and gather her camera gear together, Beetlejuice found himself gravitating to the back porch, stepping out into the unseasonal weather. Maybe this strange weather had been what had woken him and the Maitlands earlier? Though the same strange supernatural itch seemed to continue as though telling him he was yet to find the source.

“Let’s go!”

Allowing Lydia to loop an arm into his and drag him out of the house as they shouted their goodbyes, they began the walk down to the graveyard. It was a strange combination of the summer sun and the slowly melting snow, and the continued pull of something beyond typical small town life that had been driving him insane all morning.

Once they reached the graveyard, he was quickly distracted by posing for Lydia, even though more often than not he never appeared in photos beyond the faintest blur. It still didn’t stop him from striking ridiculous poses against some of the gravestones or sneaking into frame on others and pulling stupid faces in an attempt to make Lydia laugh.

After a while, Lydia had moved over into an older area of the graveyard to photograph some of the more interesting statues, while he had perched cross legged on top of one of the tombs to keep an eye on things. As she stepped around one side of a mausoleum, she suddenly stopped in place before leaning back to call out to him, attention still focussed ahead of her.

“...hey Beej?”

“Hmm?”

“There’s...someone here.”

The unease in her voice finally refocusses his attention, and he hopped down from his perch to jog over to her. Sure enough, as he stepped around the edge of the mausoleum, he saw the figure pressed up against the wall, almost unmoving. Almost as soon as his eyes fell on her, that same energy that had dragged him out of bed last night sparked something familiar in the recesses of his mind, and the sudden recognition of the woman hit him with the force of a rampaging sandworm.

Juno had roped him into the annual meeting for Persephone’s return to the Netherworld once before his banishment, part of the welcoming committee for the queen. (He also hadn’t been allowed to attend again after the incident with the spiders). At that point of the year, her hair had been vibrant red and orange curls like autumn leaves, and her eyes a bright gold. He’d never seen her quite so deathly pale or with her hair this shade of icy blonde, though he supposed this was more to do with the seasons than the way his hair changed with his mood.

Now he actually understood what had caused the day’s freak summer sun.

Moving past Lydia to crouch down beside her, he carefully reached out to gently shake her shoulder, noticing the ring of scratches and bruises at her throat that had the distinct shape of clawed hands and letting out a string of curses. Who in their right mind had attacked her?

“Perse?”

When she didn’t respond, he couldn’t help but swear again. The longer he looked, the more injuries were apparent; more cuts and bruises, and what looked like a set of claws gashed deeply into the side of her hip to stain her dress and the hand she’d attempted to use to place pressure on it in golden ichor.

“Is she okay?”

Glancing behind him, Lydia had moved closer, clearly concerned at what was happening. Sighing through his nose, he looked between her and Persephone again before making a decision.

“She will be, if we get her back to the house.”

He bent down to carefully pick Persephone up bridal style, making sure he wasn’t about to hurt her any further.

“Sorry we’re cutting this short, Lyds.”

“The graveyard’s always gonna be here,” she replied, “This is more important.”

Clearly she’d managed to pick up on just how worried he was about this giant bombshell that had been dropped in their lap. God-slash-Satan only knew what colour his hair was right about now.

“Grab on, kid,” he said, waiting for Lydia to link her arm in his before focussing and transporting all three of them back to the house. Making a beeline for the back door, he practically kicked the door open as he headed for the living room.

“You two are back soo-,” Adam said as he stepped out of the kitchen before he took in the unconscious woman Beetlejuice was carefully setting down on the sofa, “What on earth happened?!”

Stepping back from the sofa, the explanation Lydia was giving to Adam as Barbara and Delia made their way down the stairs at the sound of raised voices almost seemed to be drowned out by his own racing thoughts as he sank his hands into his hair trying not to panic. How the hell was he supposed to explain a badly injured Persephone if anyone had followed her here? He’d been in enough trouble in the Netherworld before that he was certain they’d jump to the wrong conclusion that he had been responsible and find some heinous punishment to fit the crime of attacking the queen. And what would her husband do about this whole mess?

Fighting back a distinct sense of nausea at the prospect, he was brought back to the present as Barbara gently eased his arms back down, taking his hands in hers to give him something to focus on so he could try and calm down.

“It’s alright Beetlejuice,” she reassured him, giving his hands a soft squeeze, “We just need to know what happened. Who is she?”

Swallowing thickly as he glanced back to the sofa where Adam and Delia were already fussing around to figure out how to dress the wound in her side

“Persephone,” he managed to croak out, “Queen of the Netherworld. And she is so not supposed to be here.”

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice fanfiction #beetlejuice fic #beetlejuice fanfic #that beautiful sound #My writing

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qobiin · 5 years

Text

when i fill them, they’ll shine forever | ch 2

pairing: todobakudeku (bakugou x midoriya x todoroki)

genre: angst, fluff | abo au, growing up au, canon-compliant

warnings: swearing, puberty, trans male character, gender dysphoria, blood

word count: 4035

summary: Katsuki being an omega from birth changes a few things.

chapter two of when i fill them, they’ll shine forever

Katsuki wakes up to blood spilling between his legs one morning when he is twelve.

He ends up burning the sheets and searing a hole into his carpet once he realizes what is going on.

His mom yells at him about it, but it’s half-hearted at best. Eventually, she sighs and disappears from his doorway before returning with something purple gripped tight in her hand. She gives him the pad and he looks at the stupid flowers covering it, wanting to scream. He wants to kick and yell and bite and cry.

His life is the fucking worst.

Deku catches onto his bad mood as soon as Katsuki has stepped out the front door but he says nothing as they walk to school. Katsuki would prefer it if he did though, at least it would stop him from getting irritated by feeling Deku’s eyes on him the entire fucking day.

Katsuki’s mood drops during the lunch hour when he has to change his pad and almost has a breakdown right there in the girl’s bathroom. He gets a grip on himself quickly though, absolutely refusing to cry in public. When he emerges from the bathroom - double-checking that no one saw him - and makes his way to their usual table, Deku is already there waiting for him.

His alpha still doesn’t say a word as he sits down, just puts a lunch box in front of him and starts to eat from his own. Katsuki feels like he’s going to vomit, but he pushes his rolling nausea down and brightens considerably once he catches sight of the leafy greens, pomegranate seeds and meat that Auntie Inko prepared for him. There are two rice balls as well, but compared to the six that Deku has in his lunch, it’s not a lot. Which is exactly how Katsuki likes it.

He digs his phone out of his pocket and sends a thank you text to Auntie before he begins to eat.

Deku finishes first and quickly packs up his lunch box. From there, it is almost impossible to ignore Deku’s staring.

“What?” Katsuki asks between bites of his rice ball.

“Do you wanna get ice cream with me after school?”

Katsuki blinks, taken by surprise. “No.”

Deku frowns. “But you’re not busy today, so why not?”

“Because,” Katsuki starts with, mumbling the rest of his sentence.

“Huh?”

Katsuki takes in a deep breath and makes sure his voice is steady. “Because I can’t have dairy products for the next couple of days. Or spicy food. Or caffeinated things.”

Silence greets him, allowing him to drown in nervousness, but it doesn't last for long.

“Okay. Let’s go to the store and buy some fruit instead. I bet Mom will prepare it all for us if we ask nicely,” Deku pipes up, one sole finger tapping against his chin. “If not, then it would be a great time for me to learn. I know you avoid chocolate, but let’s get some of that too. Dark chocolate and bananas sound good, don’t they?”

“I guess,” Katsuki mumbles, picking at his food. “I don’t care.”

Deku hums. “Do you need any aspirin? We could pick that up at the store too if we need to. Or I’m sure Mom wouldn’t mind giving you a few of hers. She gets really painful headaches, so she always keeps aspirin on hand.”

Katsuki sets his chopsticks down, glaring at the table. “Fine.”

“Okay, see you later! I need to go to the library and you need to finish eating or Mom will be disappointed. Bye, Kacchan!” Deku says while picking up his lunch box and scurrying away from the table.

Katsuki watches him go, glad for the time alone and the space that Deku is granting him right now. Deku always knows when Katsuki needs something and always gives it to him if he can. It’s just that Katsuki can’t help but feel guilty.

He never knows what Deku needs and if he does, then he never knows how to give it to him. He’s always left bumbling around, feeling useless and stupid. Katsuki understands that he is not a good omega in the traditional sense and that has never bothered Deku in the least, but sometimes, Katsuki wishes that he was a good, traditional omega. That he knew how to comfort his alpha and when to do it.

Maybe their roles should have been in reverse instead. Maybe-

Katsuki stops that line of thinking in its tracks. He doesn’t want to be Deku’s alpha. He wants to belong to someone, to have a place in a pack and have his mate watching his back. He wants to know without a doubt that he will be taken care of and that the same will be expected of him in return.

He doesn’t know what he would do if he was an alpha instead. Well, that's not right either. He does know what would have happened if he and Deku had been born with each other’s secondary gender. He would have fucked everything up, made things irreparable to the point that Deku would give up. Deku would be his hurt and damaged omega and it would be all Katsuki’s fault. Everything would have fallen into shambles, would have broken and never be glued back together again.

Things are better this way. At least if Katsuki goes too far, he knows that Deku will be able to rein him back in easily.

With his lunch finished, Katsuki packs up and makes his way to the library in search of his alpha.

“Hey, do you want your gift now or in the morning?” Deku asks on Katsuki’s thirteenth birthday.

They’re having a sleepover, sleepy and warm after stuffing themselves full during Katsuki’s party earlier.

Deku had forced him to invite people from school and from the few that actually showed up, they managed to have an alright time. No one was mean or worded things in a way that would make Katsuki bristle with anger. People were nice to his alpha and they even cleared out an hour before Katsuki’s set deadline of kicking them out.

All in all, his birthday was fine. He opened his presents after everyone left and managed to convince their parents to let Deku spend the night. He had pulled out the futon his parents got him soon after he and Deku got too big to share Katsuki’s bed during sleepovers as kids and gave him his favorite pillow. They brushed their teeth side by side in front of the bathroom mirror and Deku changed in the bathroom while Katsuki changed in his room. Deku knocked and waited for a reply before he walked back in and they both climbed under the covers.

Now they are looking up at the ceiling in silence. Katsuki feels tired enough to fall asleep right now but Deku had pulled him aside in the morning and told him that he had a secret surprise for him that he would give to him after the party ended and they got a moment alone together.

“Now, before I fall asleep. We’ll forget about it in the morning,” Katsuki answers, rubbing at his eyes as he sits up in bed.

Deku gets onto his knees and crawls over to his backpack, pulling a long, flat box from it. It’s wrapped in red paper with bombs scattered across it periodically and Katsuki grins at those details before he rips into it.

Beside him, Deku snorts in amusement but doesn’t comment. Katsuki spares him a glance, still grinning and opens the box.

In it is a piece of shiny, black fabric.

“Deku, if you got me a fucking dress, I am going to decapitate you,” Katsuki growls, glaring over his shoulder at his alpha.

Deku only smiles back in reassurance. “Lift it up. Unfold it and you’ll see it’s not a dress. I would never insult you like that.”

Katsuki pulls his lips back and bares his teeth. “It better not be.”

He turns back to the box and picks up the fabric. It’s smooth and shimmery, but not in the way that he expects. When he holds it up in the moonlight, confusion swarms him. He detests dresses and skirts, but a crop top? Seriously? Just what kind of game is Deku playing here? Does he want Katsuki to kill him?

“Did you really wait until we were alone to give me a fucking crop top? Do you have a death wish, you fucking idiot?”

Deku shifts beside him, nervous and twitchy. “It’s not a crop top, Kacchan. It’s a binder.”

The binder falls from his hands and lands back in the box unceremoniously. Katsuki can barely remember to breathe as Deku goes terribly still beside him, the beginning of a mumbling storm already on the tip of his tongue. Katsuki looks at his alpha from the corner of his eye, watching as his face flushes in the dark and the moonlight falls across his hair. Deku's hands twist in his lap, the mumbling storm roaring to life within another instant of silence between them.

“If you don’t like it, I can return it and give you the money I used instead. I just thought you might like it since I overheard Auntie talking to Mom about you outgrowing another sports bra, so I started researching and found out that it’s okay to bind at any age as long as you do it safely. I started saving up then because the good ones are really expensive and I knew a cheap one wouldn’t work and would probably mess with your lungs or something even worse. This one had really great reviews and I didn’t think you would like a full tank top kind of binder, but then I had to wait because they ran out in black and I know you would have hated the other colors available. So then I started worrying that I wasn’t going to be able to get it in time for your birthday, but then two weeks ago, they re-stocked it and I bought it! It came to my house last week and Mom knows because the package got there while we were at school and she opened it to make sure it wasn’t like a bomb or something since you know how paranoid she can be. Which I don’t blame her for ‘cause sometimes villains target random people and it’s better to be safe than sorry, but yeah. She asked if it was for you and I can’t lie to her, so she knows, but she promised she wouldn’t mention it and she asked me if you were thinking about starting hormonal treatment when you’re old enough and I told her I didn’t know. I started doing research on that too and found out you can’t start those until you’re sixteen and only with parent’s permission and only if your doctor isn’t mean about it, which sucks because I don’t think doctors should have that kind of power over people who are trying to be okay with their bodies if they aren’t going to treat those people respectfully and such. I get it if it’s something that would put a person’s life in danger, but I just don’t- Ah!”

Deku only cuts off his long spiel when Katsuki turns and lunges at him. He squeaks in terror and stills as Katsuki throws his arms around him. Katsuki grips him tight, pressing his face into his alpha’s shoulder and inhaling deeply, feeling his eyes burn dangerously.

Another moment passes before Deku’s arms come down around him gently and suddenly Katsuki can’t fight the stupid tears that have been trying to escape him for the last five minutes. He knows Deku starts crying when his alpha sniffs and shifts until they end up lying on the floor, holding onto one another.

Katsuki is quiet as he cries, but Deku tightens his hold on him anyway when he starts shaking and runs a hand through his spiky hair.

“It’s okay. You’re amazing and you deserve to be happy, Kacchan. It’s okay. You can cry. You can be sad if you want to be. I know it hurts, it’s okay. I’m sorry,” Deku chants under his breath, voice cracking multiple times in between sentences.

He almost wants to tell his alpha to shut the fuck up and just let him cry, but the words, his scent, and his embrace are all comforting enough for Katsuki to allow it. Just this once.

Katsuki curls himself further into his alpha and cries himself out, hoping that if he does it now then he won’t do it again when he tries the binder on for the first time.

(He does.)

“You can go straight home today, Kacchan. I have to stay after school for another talk with the school counselor.”

Katsuki frowns at Deku, raising one brow in silent question.

Deku shuffles awkwardly on his side of the lunch table, gaze stuck on the food that he has been picking at for the last twenty minutes instead of actually eating. “She wants me to consider other schools.”

In the sudden silence that befalls their table, Katsuki’s chopsticks snapping in half seem to echo around them. He’s so overcome with an indescribable wave of anger that he barely notices the fact that his palms are starting to smoke too.

“Kacchan, you’re gonna set off the fire alarm again,” Deku’s voice filters in through the omega’s haze of anger.

“I’m going to kill that bitch,” is Katsuki’s only answer.

Deku sighs, continuing to pick at his food now that Katsuki isn’t in danger of exploding their table (again). “Please, don’t. I already told her that it’s where you’re going and I plan to be with my mate, but she keeps insisting. She wants me to either pick more schools to apply to or apply to UA’s general course instead.”

“She can go die for all I fucking care,” Katsuki spits out. “Watch when you become the first fucking quirkless hero and at a stupid interview they ask about your childhood and you bring up that bitch’s name and this stupid, shitty school. They’ll regret the way they’re treating my alpha like he’s some weak, defenseless piece of shit!”

“I think that’s one of the nicest things you have ever said about me, Kacchan,” Deku murmurs, but there is a smile slowly blossoming on his face so Katsuki can hardly feel embarrassed about his outburst.

“Shut the fuck up, nerd. Go tell her that she can fucking suck it.”

Deku laughs, some of his normal behavior beginning to bleed through. Katsuki pats himself on the back for a job well done when Deku acts like he usually does for the rest of the lunch hour.

Once the final bell rings, Katsuki walks over to Deku’s desk and hauls them away into a secluded hallway where no one will bother them. Deku looks confused and smells nervous, but he calms considerably after Katsuki glares at him then pulls him into a tight hug.

They stand there embracing one another while subtly scenting the other, then Katsuki growls under his breath and breaks away.

“See you later, nerd! Mom’s making your favorite tonight, so you better fucking be there,” Katsuki yells over his shoulder.

Deku’s voice is light behind him. “Bye, Kacchan!”

“Why the fuck did I have to fucking come and get it?” Katsuki mutters to himself, kicking a can angrily against the alley wall. “Fucking Deku and his stupid shitty taste in food!”

He knows he doesn’t mean it. He’s just angry his homework time is being cut into right now. All because his mom didn’t have the ingredients she needed for katsudon, Deku’s favorite, which Katsuki had angrily texted her about making tonight under the lunch table when Deku wasn't paying attention.

Whatever. As long as it makes Deku happy.

That’s his last cohesive thought before something dark and sludge-like crawls out of the shadows and engulfs him whole.

After it is all said and done and the stupid heroes have finished ripping Deku a new one, Katsuki finds that he can barely even look at his alpha.

The heroes insist that Katsuki should be looked over by a medical professional, but he’s furious and the last thing he wants to do is take his shirt off in such a public space.

It doesn’t help matters that All Might is smiling and conversing with police and reporters alike, trying to make everything cheery as all hell. It doesn’t accomplish anything except making Katsuki even angrier than before.

Finally, when he is allowed to leave, Katsuki books it. Deku was allowed to leave first and probably decided to not wait up for him, thinking that Katsuki would actually let a paramedic check him out first. Fuck that.

In the distance, a familiar head of dark, curly hair appears and Katsuki kicks it into high gear, screaming at the top of his lungs.

“DEKU!”

He hates how his voice cracks, but there’s no helping it. There is no time either since Deku turns immediately to look at him.

“K-Kacchan! What are you doing?” Deku stutters, face turning bright red as Katsuki advances.

“You’re lucky you’re not dead, you stupid fucking nerd!” Katsuki yells, not caring about how loud he is. “But I’m still going to kill you!”

Deku takes a step back, flushing and stuttering again. “W-What but-?”

Katsuki can feel his hands beginning to smoke and if Deku’s eyes looking down then flickering back up are any indication, then his alpha knows it too, but Katsuki doesn’t give a fuck.

He’s so fucking angry. So pissed off that those heroes were so fucking useless that his quirkless alpha had to jump in to try and save him. They are the reason his alpha thought it was necessary to throw himself into danger and Katsuki was close to blowing his top back in that alley, but in front of his alpha, he can’t keep it together anymore.

See this is the thing. Katsuki isn’t angry that he had to be saved. Well, maybe a little, but it isn't the reason he wants to blow up this entire neighborhood then run back to that alley and beat the shit out of those pro heroes and one sludge villain in particular.

Katsuki is angry because his alpha threw himself into danger that Katsuki could barely handle. He has a powerful quirk, but it did absolutely fucking nothing to stop that villain earlier. Deku is quirkless. Deku is soft and gentle and incapable of not lending someone a helping hand. He’s an alpha, yes, but Deku is so, so fragile. Katsuki knows that his alpha can grow a spine when he fucking wants to and that he can throw a mean punch, especially since they started working out together. Katsuki knows everything about his alpha and that is exactly why when their eyes met, Katsuki was struck dumb with terror because he knew what was going to happen next.

He knew and he was terrified for his alpha.

“You could have gotten hurt, you idiot!” Katsuki spits out, growing angrier when his eyes start burning.

He turns his face away, letting out a deep breath and fighting back the stupid fucking tears. Deku has gone still in front of him. His panicked scent has turned towards confusion and slowly, so slowly that Katsuki can barely recognize it, a growing sense of horror. Both of them do not speak and Katsuki has never felt further apart from his alpha than at this moment.

“You were going to die,” Deku eventually says, finally breaking the stifling silence that had befallen them.

Katsuki feels his hackles rise in defiance and anger again. “You don’t know that! You don’t know shit, you stupid nerd! You had no reason to put yourself in danger like that because of me, Deku!”

Deku steps back like he has been struck, his expression and scent changing quickly. “You’re my mate, Kacchan. I will always do my best to take care of you in any way that I can. Me being quirkless doesn’t change that.”

“That has nothing to do with it! You said I could take care of you, you fucking promised, shithead!” Katsuki growls, advancing rapidly on his alpha with his palms smoking then coming to an abrupt halt as Deku flinches.

Katsuki draws back, looking at the street instead of Deku’s emerald eyes. “I am not more important than you, fucktard. There were heroes there and you didn’t have to do that. Why did you do that? I didn’t need your fucking help and you know that! So why did you run into it anyway?”

He keeps his gaze on Deku’s bright red shoes, his eyes burning fiercer than before. Katsuki does not know what he expects his alpha to say, but it isn’t what he ends up hearing at all.

“You’re my heart, Kacchan,” Deku murmurs, his voice so soft and gentle and Katsuki can’t help the fucking tears that fall down his face then. “That villain attacked me earlier and I almost died. I know firsthand that it might have killed you too. The only thing I could think to myself at the moment was, what am I supposed to do you without you?”

Katsuki feels his head snap up and meets Deku’s watery gaze with his own, suddenly frothing at the mouth angry again. He hates this. He hates this so much and he hates how it’s his alpha who always manages to bring this stupid emotional bullshit out of him when he would rather ignore it all and suffer in silence. But no, Deku has to force it out of him and make him talk about feelings otherwise Katsuki just feels guilty and shitty.

Fuck Deku honestly and fuck stupid ass feelings too!

As if Katsuki wouldn’t have done the same thing. As if Katsuki would not be terrified of losing his mate, alpha, and best friend all in one fell swoop! As if Deku is so fucking noble for throwing himself into danger when all it did was make the situation worse and scare ten years off Katsuki’s life.

“WELL, WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITHOUT YOU? This is a two-way street, motherfucker, and you can’t fucking assume that I would ever want you to get fucking hurt because of me!” Katsuki all but screams, shaking and trembling as tears continue to trail down his cheeks.

Deku is much too calm when he says, “I know. I didn’t mean to imply that your feelings don’t matter, but Kacchan… You would have done the same thing.”

Katsuki doesn’t reply, not deeming that statement worthy of an answer at all because they both know it’s the truth. It is what Katsuki was thinking just mere moments before, what he refuses to speak aloud after all that has already happened today.

He is too tired for this crap. He wants to go home and pretend like the world doesn’t exist for a few hours.

Deku must read it in the slump of his shoulders or the dejected look on his face because soon he’s speaking again and giving Katsuki the escape he needs. “If you want some alone time, I can give you space, Kacchan.”

Katsuki can only make himself nod. Deku gives him a gentle and sincere smile anyway, the kind that makes Katsuki want to punch something.

“Okay… and Kacchan?”

He looks up again, letting their eyes meet. Deku looks rattled and tired, but assured too, something that Katsuki rarely ever sees from his alpha.

“I love you.”

What the fuck?

What.

The.

Fuck.

Absolutely not, Deku can fuck right off with that bullshit. Katsuki wipes his face quickly with the singed sleeve of his uniform and flees.

He runs the rest of the way home, crying again, and when he bursts through his front door, his mom is in the kitchen. His dad isn’t home yet, so he ignores her greeting and runs into his room. Locking the door, he lets his tears fall freely.

He feels so stupid and small, something he abhors with all his might. Ugh.

a/n: if you’re interested about how this is all coming together, check out my #progress-report tag (:

thanks for reading! please remember that my requests are open

#todobakudeku #bakudeku #todobaku #tododeku #bakugou x midoriya x todoroki #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #chaptered #f:bnha #g:angst #g:fluff #t:chaptered #p:ot3 #p:bakugou/midoriya/todoroki #wifttsf #m: fic

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blkgrlwrites · 4 years

Note

“ i can’t sleep. “ (shawn and eli)

Elijah’s known Lashawn, since they were kids. Since she was knock-kneed and gangly and his mom used to shop in the husky section. Eli, sometimes swore he knew her better than himself. He remembered watching her run around the neighborhood, arguing down bullies and fighting down those who just didn’t know when to quit. He knew when her spine went ramrod straight, she was preparing for a fight. He knew that too long stare she’d always give him when she was about to change their relationship, like the first time she kissed him. He knew when pushing her buttons for the occasional argument was okay.

Eli also knew how to read between her lines.

She wasn’t saying the break-in scared her. He’d heard the lie as she reassured her parents on the phone. As she tried to reassure him. Maybe it was because of the past he tried to let it go. Let her stay with her sister, backed out of her peripheral because it was what she wanted.

He caught wind she was moving back (a cryptic message from her mom he’s sure) and Eli is thankful she doesn’t immediately rebuff him, as took her bag and waited for her to open the door. He waited and watched behind her as she walked through, surveying the damage. Her spine is painfully straight, face strategically blank, as she picked up and continued to bring together pieces of her life. Elijah himself is quiet as he set her bag on the floor by her bedroom. “Let me help.”

He tried not to read into the silence before she uttered some small orders. They move in tandem as they finish bringing the order back to her home. She swept up the broken glass in the kitchen, he refolded her linen closet how she liked. Elijah watched a few tears leak through as she put her broken frames back in place and remained quiet as he placed a box of tissues in her space and took out some bags of trash for her. By the time darkness fell across her living room, he decided to speak again.

“How do you feel about wings and rice from that spot around the corner?”

Eli tried in vain to fill the gaps in the conversation as they ate dinner. He’s rambling about everything; the players on his team, his previous job, the mosque gossip his mother would fill him in on, shit he even tried talking about his niece. None of it earned him more than a few words and a distant smile.

“I’m staying tonight.” His words are met with wide eyed silence as he finally turned from closing her fridge. “I’ll sleep on the couch, just please. Let me stay alright?”

He’s thankful at the slow nod she gives as he settles on the couch with a book from her bookcase. Elijah can hear her go about her night routine as he flipped idly through the pages.

The words are swimming in front of him by the time the light flipped off in her room. He’s not quite sure when he drifted, but he’s woken up by the quick shuffling behind her door. He didn’t move from his stretched out position on the couch when her door opened and the padding of her feet, circled in front of him. “I can’t sleep.”

He doesn’t speak as he cracked his eye open at her. It’s a sight that transports him back five years before. God, how’d he ever let this woman go?

“Sleep with me out here.” He lifts his blanket and waits for her to climb on top of him, before covering them both up.

“Try to get some rest alright?” His hands move up and down her back and when he feels warm wet spots on his shoulder, he doesn’t stop or speak.

If only she knew, he wasn’t planning on going anywhere.

@neicyrps

#ship: elijah x shawnie #ch: elijah carver #neicyrps

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philipronans · 5 years

Text

go where you breathe free [1/7]

this was meant to be a oneshot for @gxldentrio‘s birthday but as per usual things ran away from me and now i’m in hell. this also isn’t what i originally intended, hence why it’s late so for that i’m sorry! sirius is pretty depressed in this, just in case anyone needs to take care of themselves - i don’t think trigger warnings are needed, he’s just very in his own head about it

the first week

Sirius wakes up to the smell of something floral wafting through the open crack of his bedroom door. He battles, briefly, with the exhaustion pulling at his eyelids, and kicks his legs free of the duvet, pushing it towards the bottom of his bed. It’s hot, even for late May, and although his curtains are drawn tightly across his window he can already feel sweat starting to prickle against the backs of his knees. Sitting up is a task in and of itself; there’s a lethargy settled in the very marrow of him that means it takes him a few attempts before he succeeds.

Finding clean clothes quickly becomes another adventure, hidden amongst everything else on his floor as they are, like flakes of gold buried in the sand. Not that he even needs to get dressed, really - it’s not like James, or Lily for that matter, have never seen him in his underwear before - but there’s a voice in the back of his head whispering with the volume of an earthquake to do it. So, he roots around for a pair of jeans that aren’t obviously stained with anything, and then has to sift through several t-shirts before managing to find one that doesn’t smell like three day old Chinese.

Sirius kicks wearily at the pile - more like mountain, if he’s being honest - closest to him, and sighs. He doesn’t bother promising himself to clean it up later, just turns around so he doesn’t have to look at it anymore, and picks his way over to the mirror in the corner. The Sirius in the reflection is wan, dark circles taking up residence under his eyes, and he prods at them with the pads of his fingers. He flicks idly at the sleep gathered on his eyelashes and then scrapes a hand through his hair to pull it into something resembling a ponytail. It’s been a few days since he last ran a hairbrush through it, and it shows. Pursing his lips, Sirius rolls the hairband from his wrist and double ties it.

Lily is already in the kitchen by the time he wanders in, scratching at the stubble lining his cheek and trying to ignore the way it catches on his fingertips. A huge bouquet of flowers - that he won’t even begin to pretend he knows the names of - lays on the counter separating the kitchen from the dining room. A vase stands at her elbow, filled halfway with water, and she’s got the sachet of flower food in one hand, a pair of extremely large scissors in the other. She doesn’t look at him until the last drop of food lands in the water, but when she does, her smile is brilliant.

“Good morning!” She says, stepping away from the counter so she can drop the packet and the cellophane wrap in the bin.

Sirius watches her for a few moments before the smell of whatever the flowers are gets him to edge a little closer. “Mornin’. Where’s James?”

“Nipped over to Tescos.” She says, letting the lid of the bin clang shut again. Then she shifts a little so she can quickly wash her hands. Lily’s eyes are kind when she glances over her shoulder at him. “You sleep okay? James said you might have trouble because of how sodding hot it is.”

There’s a warmth in his chest that Sirius doesn’t have the words to explain, so he shrugs. He shuffles over to the fridge and doesn’t even bother getting out a glass before taking several long pulls from the carton of orange juice (without pulp, he’s not an animal). “It was… okay.” He says eventually, ignoring the face Lily pulls when he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s been worse.”

There are parts of him that Lily’s missing, that he refuses to let her see no matter how much he trusts her, but just this once she seems to hear what he’s omitting because she’s smiling again. “That’s good.”

It doesn’t take long for Sirius to grow itchy with the way she’s looking at him, so he quickly sets about getting himself breakfast instead. He has no idea what the time actually is, but in his humble opinion, there is no wrong time for a bowl of coco pops. No matter how many times James tries to convince him they’re rank. Sadly, there’s only one box left - the variety pack he’d bought slowly dwindling until all he’s left with a rice krispies. He pulls a face, even as he resigns himself to the fact he’s going to have to get more at some point.

Lily waits until he’s got his head buried in the fridge again, with his bowl tucked against his chest, before saying, “There’s no milk left.” The smile she gives him is mischievous, and he can’t even find it in himself to be annoyed about it.

Sirius would be lying if he said he doesn’t briefly consider using the orange juice instead. Briefly. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time. Instead he lets the door fall shut with a thud and stares forlornly down at his cereal.

“James should be back soon, I think. He wasn’t going out for much.” Lily offers, and when he lifts his head long enough to look at her, she’s leaning against the edge of the sink with her arms crossed loosely under her chest. Her smile is kind. He tries not to see the pity in it, and ducks his head back down.

Instead of answering her, he moves over to the dining table, footsteps inneringly soft against the floorboards even now. He slumps into the nearest chair, bowl sat in front of him, taunting, and he reaches out to grab a handful. Popping a few into his mouth, Sirius starts chewing hard enough to feel it in his jaw. His eyes are unfocussed, staring aimlessly at the photograph hanging on the opposite wall. None of it gets processed, it’s all just one swirl of colour bleeding into another.

An undetermined amount of time later - although it’s probably only a few minutes, given the meagre dent he’s made in his coco pops - Lily places a tall glass of orange juice at his elbow.

Sirius manages to drag his attention from the wall long enough to meet her eye. “Thanks.” He mutters, voice barely more than a croak.

Lily hovers for a moment, clearly unsure of whether to sit down with him or not. It doesn’t take her long to make her mind up, though, because she leaves him alone - he’s grateful for that, too.

The quiet isn’t… nice, exactly. But it’s peaceful; gives him time to come back to himself. It happens slowly, as it so often does; colours bleeding into each other until they become tangible - things he can reach out and touch if he wants to. For the moment he just focuses on the table, the wood worn smooth from countless days spent just like this one.

The universe is a metronome and Sirius the pendulum, tick tick ticking through his own existence without hope of ever slowing down or stopping. Sometimes he falls out of rhythm, whenever life decides to knock him off kilter, but he always manages to find his way back eventually. Today is no exception, and once he feels present enough in his own head to actually do something, he fiddles with the glass of orange juice for a brief moment before downing half of it in one go.

He takes it with him, dangingling it loosely from his fingertips, when he finally gets up. The bowl gets left behind, but he makes a silent vow to actually eat as soon as James gets home. Their flat isn’t exactly small, especially given they’re in London and the rent is cheap, but there aren’t all that many places he can go other than his room. So when he ends up in the living room, Lily doesn’t so much as blink as she puts her book down and reach for the remote. She doesn’t even seem to notice the magazine that goes careening off the coffee table onto the floor.

Instead she raises an eyebrow at him and gestures with the remote. Her nail varnish is chipped around the edges, jagged electric blue in stark contrast with how pale she is. “Wanna watch something?” One of the wonderful things about Lily, and there are several even if Sirius is loathe to admit it, is that there is never any expectation. He’s free to do, or not, whatever he pleases whenever he wants - it can be overwhelming sometimes, just how free she lets him feel.

For the first time this week he doesn’t feel like he has to escape back to the safety of his bed, so he sets his glass down on one of the free coasters and picks the magazine up as he sinks into the sofa cushions. It’s not a big sofa, by any means, but sometimes it feels like they’re on opposite sides of a very large chasm. Sirius meets her excited little grin with the smallest twitch of his own mouth. Maybe not quite a chasm.

“What did you have in mind?”

-----

They’re only half an hour into their chosen movie when James gets home, but Sirius is barely paying attention anyway. There had been a brief, albeit passionate, debate on the merits of shitty horror versus shitty sci-fi, before they’d settled on a low budget, straight-to-DVD slasher.

The only noise James makes for a few minutes is the rustling of plastic shopping bags - more Bags For Life, from the sounds of it. Just their luck. Sirius finds himself glancing over at Lily when cupboard doors start banging, and he isn’t entirely sure why, even as she sinks further into the cushions.

“I’m too lazy to move.” She says by way of explanation, and it’s enough to get a laugh out of him. It’s rusty, catching in his throat in its desperate bid for freedom, but it makes Lily’s eyes soften. Sirius pretends he doesn’t notice, even if there is a heat in his cheeks he can’t quite ignore.

Thankfully Lily turns back to face the screen, leaving him time to try and make his body do what it’s told. The murderer lumbers out of the woods just as Sirius manages to push himself to his feet, hatchet swinging from their hand as they hunt down one of the incredibly dumb teenagers that somehow always seem to be the protagonists.

“Want anything?” He asks, because despite everything else that might be said about him, he still has manners.

Lily watches him for several seconds, but just as it starts bordering on too long she shakes her head. “No, thanks.”

Nodding, Sirius snags his glass and then quietly pads out of the room, followed by the sound of the first kid being hacked to death.

There are a lot of things Sirius is ready and willing to brag about being good at, but one of the few things he truly prides himself on is his ability to be very quiet when needed. The noise in his head is so loud, all the time, that he’s always used his own silence as a weapon. Even now, it’s no different, and the way James smacks his head on the open cupboard door is both validating and hilarious. Sirius doesn’t do anything more than snigger as he pads over to the sink so he can rinse his glass out - experience has taught him more than once just how disgusting dried juice is to clean.

“You have got to stop doing that.” James grumbles, rubbing at the vaguely pink mark on his forehead. Sirius has to fight down the urge to wrap his fingers around James’ narrow wrist, something strange coiling in his belly.

He tries not to think about it too hard. “You’re gonna make it worse.” He says instead, rocking back on his heels and shoving his hands in his pockets. “I thought being blind meant everything else was enhanced, anyway?”

“That only works if you abide by regular human physics.” James says, voice nearing on a whine. There’s a glint in his eye that suggests mischief, though, and Sirius feels something in him settle. James shakes his head, roots around in the nearest bag for a moment, and before Sirius gets a chance to see what he’s doing, something sharp hits him in the chest. He has to scrabble to catch it, but when he looks down it’s to see a new variety pack of cereal against his chest. “You’re almost out, right?”

Sirius eyes him curiously for a moment, that same strange feeling settling heavy in his lungs and making his breath painful. It eases as Sirius smiles. “Cheers, mate.”

#jilypad #jily #prongsfoot #hp fic #hanahaki au #vic writes #i didn't wanna say in the description just so i wasn't dragging things out but this is indeed a hanahaki au #which means things are gonna get real angsty #like this au isn't bad enough on its own you've got me: the queen of angst #long post #sorry if you're on mobile and this doesn't show up under a read more

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