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misfit-fics · 3 years

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Demon Rehab For Dummies

Summary: (Y/N) started seeing seven demons when she was 10. Through the years they all disappeared, all but one. Namjoon. A demon who has not so creepily, creepily, very creepily been in love with her for years.

Genre: fluff, crack, extremely minimal angst, idiots to lovers, romantic-comedy

Word count: 7384

Rating: Teen

Warnings: mentions of suggestive & kinky themes, a handful of cursing, a story with a plot but not doesn’t exactly have a plot, a stubborn (Y/N) who dismisses love confessions & genuine flirting, an unspoken confession

A/N: Hey! we're back, it's been a while. We're starting school in a while but it will be gamble if we'll be more active or not. Well... we ARE active but just not posting? Yeah, you know what I mean. This has been sitting in our drafts for a while now and we're posting it now... although it's pretty unedited, feel free to address any oopsies. Hope who ever finds this enjoys reading!

At the ripe young age of ten (Y/N) began seeing seven men. Which- would’ve (should’ve) freaked any kid out but you know (Y/N) is just kinda quirky like that so she didn't really mind much. The men were nice and played with her anyway, and the only weird thing was that sometimes they would bring her dead birds.

At age eleven (Y/N) noticed that one of the men was missing.It didn’t affect her much except for the fact that this particular one would help her find things and she’d lost almost all of her socks since he disappeared. Not to mention the increase of bug bites after he left. The darn things seemed like they multiplied exponentially after a month.

By twelve only two of the men had disappeared, at this point (Y/N) not only lived in sandals (she still couldn’t find her socks) but she also couldn’t explain why her hair was burning off every time she tried to straighten it (her lil demon friends didn’t want her to, you’d think after almost 3 years of having men following her around and telling her what to do she’d get with the program already.) Her dog her parents had given her when she was 9 started disappearing quite often after he left. He always came back with a single sock that would disappear the next morning.

By thirteen (Y/N) had developed a crush (more like unhealthy obsession) on one of the men, Namjoon. The third year was also the year when Jimin disappeared, taking all of her favorite shoes with him. That year she had prayed to whoever was listening because her parents really couldn’t afford to keep buying her socks and shoes, and because she definitely couldn’t afford to shave her head.

By fourteen, Hoseok, the man who had cheered her up whenever she needed it, had gone, leaving a tidal wave of bad luck in his wake. He had a great deal in keeping (Y/N) happy, although some of his antics made her want to punch him, it never turned out that way.

When she was fifteen no one left… except for the dog. Aside from that, the only thing that left was her social life (It wasn’t like she had one before but you know it was still a little rough). (Y/N) began to depend more and more on her demons. She had become great friends with the oldest, Seokjin, who cooked for her when her parents went on trips.

At sixteen Yoongi left and the nightmares began. And with the nightmares came the growth of (Y/N)’s relationship with Namjoon. Namjoon became her protector, along with sometimes Seokjin, who still cooked for her and cared for her altogether when she couldn’t.

At seventeen, (Y/N) was informed that when she turned eighteen Seokjin would be leaving, on account that they didn’t need each other anymore. (Y/N) had been torn up when he told her and even more when he left. He didn’t take anything when he left other than a piece of (Y/N)’s heart.

At eighteen, (Y/N) moved away from her parents house with Namjoon trailing behind her (He even had lil demon suitcases and everything,) following her every move.

“I really don’t understand why you had to follow me out of my parents house. I thought spirits are supposed to be attached to a general area…” (Y/N) took to unpacking a box in the small apartment she now lived in.

“(Y/N) how many times do we have to go over this, I'm a demon, DE-MON.” Namjoon clapped his hands with each syllable. (Y/N) rolled her eyes and flicked her wrist at the self-proclaimed demon.

“Demon, ghost, same thing.” She shrugged her shoulders, “same thing as to-may-to, to-mah-to.”

“It is not the same thing!” Namjoon looked at (Y/N) like it was obvious.

(Y/N) snorted, “Okay Casper.” She continued pulling out the items in the box.

Namjoon looked flabbergasted, “CASPER!?” Namjoon put a hand over his chest and widened his eyes. (Y/N) looked up at the demon with a raised brow,

“Geez Casper, why are you so offended? I’ve called you Casper before, Casper.” (Y/N) struggled to keep in her laughter, trying to keep a straight face as she looked at Namjoon.

Namjoon looked at (Y/N), “I think I shall simply cease to exist in your realm.”

(Y/N) looked back down at the almost empty box, “You wouldn’t do that, you love me too much, my dearest Casper.” She said in a singsong voice, “Oh hey I found a sock.” She pulled out said sock from the box, it had yellow stripes. :]

“I think Jungkook took the mate to that when he left.” (Y/N) threw the sock at Namjoon with a loud ‘FUCK!’

“I mean we could try and summon him to see if he’ll return your socks.” Namjoon shrugged.

“I wouldn’t even try.” She started putting the random items in their new places.

“You should put Juno on the window sill rather than the coffee table, I mean cacti do need sun.” Namjoon looked at the little green prickle plant.

“I’m sure if i didn’t tell you how to parent your child, it would’ve been confiscated by child protective services.” Namjoon crossed his arms and looked at Juno who had been (rightfully so) moved to the window sill.

“Casper- Juno is a cactus. There is no CPS (Cactus Protective Services).” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon with her own arms crossed over her chest and an eyebrow raised, “Now if you could- Can you please go unpack a few boxes?” (Y/N) shooed Namjoon away before her eyes widened and she added in, “NOTHING LABELED FRAGILE!”

“You know if we painted a wall or two in here, it would liven up the place so much…” Namjoon looked around the bland apartment, “Maybe an accent wall over here. A floor lamp over there. A new plant in the kitchen. It wouldn’t hurt you to give Juno some siblings.”

(Y/N) looked flabbergasted, “You want me to pop out another child?!”

“No I mean-” Namjoon’s eyes widened.

“-OUT OF MY WALLET?!? MY BARELY 21 DOLLARS!?” (Y/N) got her wallet out and zipped it open. She shook it in the demon’s face, about 26 pennies, 2 nickels, 1 dime, and a quarter fell out. It was followed by a single, folded, 5 dollar bill.

“I don’t think that’s 21 dollars, (Y/N)” Namjoon looked down at the floor, where one or more of the coins had caught onto his feet.

“I have a gift card.” She pulled out the cheap plastic, silver, $25 visa gift card (that didn’t have 25 dollars) with a bit of a struggle.

“How much exactly is on that gift card (Y/N)?” Namjoon eyed the flimsy silver object.

“You expect me to know- I mean probably more than 10 dollars!” Namjoon raised a brow at the statement. “Okay, maybe about 3.69.” Namjoon sighed, massaging his temples. (Y/N) bent down to put the money back into her wallet like a pigeon eating bread crumbs the old lady on the bench threw onto the floor.

Namjoon walked away from the pigeon-girl and grabbed a notepad and pen that was left on the kitchen counter. “We’re making you a to-do list.” He stated, clicking the pen.

“WE haven’t even unpacked all the boxes yet.” (Y/N) whined, pointing at the last large box in the middle of the hallway. Namjoon looked to where she pointed and shrugged.

“It says Christmas decorations.”

“EXACTLY! VERY. IMPORTANT.” she clapped her hands in between each word.

“It’s February.” He said.

“It’s still winter.” (Y/N) reasoned, finally done picking up the money. She plopped herself down onto the small brown couch.

“Okay so first off you need a job.” He wrote it down onto the notepad, the pen scratching being overlapped by a loud gasp from the human in the room.

“You dare ignore me?!” She yelled offendedly at the demon who glanced at her before looking back down at what he was writing.

“You also need to go to the supermarket.”

“I told you I barely have any money.”

“Your parents gave you some money.”

“Oh, you’re right.”

“And also, you should walk to the school and find a short route to get there.” Namjoon pulled out a literal map.

(Y/N) pouted, “I thought you were gonna walk me to all my classes to deter all the frat boys from coming my way…”

“I did say that,” he confirmed before continuing. “But I mean to get to the actual school grounds.”

“But we have a car.” She had drawnout the ‘but,’ trying to make her point that she didn’t need to walk.

“But you need exercise.” He reasoned, mimicking the way she had said her words.

“Are you calling me fat?”

“No.”

“Yes you are.”

“(Y/N) i’m not.”

“Yeah you ARE, Casper.”

“Would you PLEASE call me by my actual name for once?”

“Sure thing. Rap Monster.” She teased, the ground started shaking. (Y/N) let out a loud screech looking up at the demon who’s eyes were rolled back. “OH FUCK YOU!”

The shaking died down, Namjoon staring down at the girl who was now underneath the coffee table. “This is why you’re still here!” she cried.

“You want me gone?” Namjoon questioned, offendedly. (Y/N) army crawled her way from her ‘safe spot.’

“I DIDN’T SAY THAT!” She yelled, returning the offended tone.

“I’m out,” Namjoon pivoted on his heel, walking to the front door robotically.

“Noooo!”

“Will I ever see my socks again?” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon with hope, “I mean having shoes would be great too though.”

“What’s wrong with living in sandals? Birkenstocks are very comfortable.” Namjoon pivoted around with a candle in his hand.

“It’s winter.” (Y/N) frowned.

“You could always use mine?” He gestured to the shoes at the shoe rack at the front door. The ones that were closed toed…

“Your feet are too big.” (Y/N) looked over at the shoes, then looked down at her own feet, then at the demon.

“Size didn’t matter Last night with your sweaters?”

“That’s different, Namjoon.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

“Size.” Namjoon smirked.

“Different.” (Y/N) stood confidently.

“You know, you could always just go buy new socks?” Namjoon looked at her oddly.

“I usually wait to get them for Christmas, you should know this by now.”

“Independence.” He stated.

“You’re a hypocrite.” Namjoon let out a ‘huh?’ and (Y/N) continued, “You said independence when you’re dependent on me.”

“That isn’t my fault.” Namjoon raised his hands in defense.

“It kind of is though…” (Y/N) shrugged, Namjoon opened his mouth to retort but was quickly cut off, “I’m literally a rehab center for you.”

“Apparently you’re not a nicely rated one.” Namjoon shook his head.

“I’ve helped 6 other demons, Namjoon. You’re just being difficult.” (Y/N) poked his chest really hard before retracting her hand.

“Ouch,” he put his hand over his heart where she had poked him, “You shouldn’t be saying these things to your client.”

“I didn’t ask to get a client or even BE a rehab center.”

“The reason why you became a rehab center was because you decided that humans were ugly and disgusting.”

“The reason why you ended up with me was because you did something bad and you just now decided to be a good person and it’s not turning out well for you.”

“For your information, I could have left a long time ago.” Namjoon crossed his arms, with an audible exhale from his nose. He stared down at the rehab center.

“And why didn’t you, hm?” (Y/N) crossed her arms also with a raised brow. Namjoon kept quiet, debating how to answer, keeping eye contact as if it was an olympic staring contest.

“You.” He said. (Y/N) snorted, ready to insult the patient. “-would’ve starved to death by now if I hadn’t stayed with you until now.” He finished, (Y/N) gasped, reaching up and hitting Namjoon on the shoulder.

“You. Jerk. Get. Away. From. Me.” She hit him harder every word before waddling away into the hallway from the chuckling demon.

“No problem,” Namjoon disappeared with a veil of sparkles out of view.

(Y/N) thrusted open the door to her new bedroom. Continuing her waddle to the end of the full size bed. Facing the head board, she plopped the top half of her body onto the bed front first. Namjoon reappeared about 6 feet away from her with a loud poof and a burst of sparkles scattering around the room.

“Go away.” (Y/N)’s face was still shoved into the mattress, “Seriously shoo.” (Y/N) lifted her arm off the bed to wave him off.

“I won’t go. You can’t make me.” Namjoon walked towards the bed hesitantly, scared to get fucking murdered by his prison warden, “Move over. Give me some room.”

“Go sleep in my closet.” (Y/N) flipped the demon off.

“You’d prefer nightmares over your dearest Casper?”

“Yes.” Namjoon sat down on the bed, his knee almost hitting the girl’s head. “I thought I said in the closet.”

“And I prefer the bed.” Namjoon leaned forward and took (Y/N) by her hands and pulled her closer to himself with an annoyed groan from her. She was pulled until her head was laid on his chest, wrapping his arms around her.

“I hate you.” (Y/N) grumbled into her demon-pillow.

“I know.”

“You live because I allow it, and that is it to be my flesh pillow.”

“Okay, now sleep.”

“But why do you have to leave?” (Y/N) looked up at her bunk buddy, her chin was impaling the person’s chest.

“I have to. I'm ready to go.” Yoongi looked crestfallen, “They said I could have one more night. But then, when I leave, I can pass on my role.”

“Could you maybe not steal my socks?” (Y/N) pouted at Yoongi who chuckled in response. “This is a genuine request.” She said with slight seriousness in her tone.

“You don’t have any to steal anyways,” he rolled his eyes with an endearing smirk that replaced his dispirited look just seconds before.

“Ok just- don’t go stealing any of my clothing, I need it.” (Y/N) clicked her tongue, not denying the fact that she was sockless.

“I won’t. I don’t need your clothing.” Yoongi shrugged, “I might take your guinea pig though. Meatloaf is cute.”

“YOU wouldn’t DARE take Meatloaf from me.” She glared

“I can and I will.” Yoongi crossed his arms over his chest and looked towards the cage that housed Meatloaf. (Y/N) groaned, unlatching an arm that was sandwiched between the bed and Yoongi’s back. She planted her palm smack in the middle of the demon’s face, covering his view of the poor guinea pig.

“No.” She patted his face, Yoongi’s eyes now squeezed shut.

“I can lick your hand.” he threatened, his voice muffled and jumpy from the wacky hand.

“You’re gross,” she moved her hand up, now only covering his eyes and revealing a gummy smile from Yoongi.

“It’s sleep time,” he declared. (Y/N) whined in response, “I’ll be here in the morning to say goodbye one more time okay?”

“Promise?”

“Never said that,” he hummed.

“You jerk,” she groaned, laying her head sideways. Her ear over his heart, engraving the sound into her mind.

Like a cliche love story, (Y/N) woke up to no one but herself on the bed. Through groggy eyes, she could see that poor Meatloaf was gone too.

“I tried to stop him from taking Meatloaf I swear.” Namjoon uncrossed his arms from over his chest when he noticed that (Y/N) was awake.

“Did you really?” (Y/N) sat up in bed.

“I did, I swear,” he said immediately, “I have proof.”

“By proof, do you mean you broke something?” Namjoon took a deep breath figuring out whether or not to say yes or no.

“I… never said that.” He decided on dying, his words drifting off in nervousness.

“So… you did?” She concluded, Namjoon nodded slowly, his eyes down on the floor.

“Yea…” (Y/N) sighed, trying to find anger to cover up a tsunami of sadness that was approaching.

“It’ll be okay. We can summon him every once in a while. Maybe while we’re at it we can try to get your socks back.” Namjoon smiled and hoped it would make her feel better while the reality of things had begun to set in for him. All of the boys loved (Y/N) with all of their hearts but he was the only one willing to stay for the long run.

“I don’t think people want to go back to a rehab center, Namjoon.” (Y/N) let the tears begin to pour.

“(Y/N) it’ll be okay…” Namjoon went over to sit on the bed next to (Y/N), “Seriously we’ll get through this.” Namjoon put a hesitant hand onto (Y/N)’s shoulder and began trying to comfort her.

“I know- I know but-” (Y/N) sniffled, “Hold on, my mascara will run.”

“You’re not wearing any?-” Namjoon raised a brow and looked at (Y/N) like ‘bih-’

“Shush.” (Y/N) shushed Namjoon before shaking off his hand and placing her head on his shoulder.

“You know you can’t prevent me from getting a boyfriend forever.” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon before continuing to pack her bag for school.

“I can and I will.” Namjoon slung his own bag over his shoulder. He was definitely a professor.

“You can’t make me be single forever.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes and slung her backpack onto her shoulders.

“Your preferences in men are horrible (Y/N), I'm not trying to prevent you from getting a man.” Namjoon said in a matter of fact voice, moving and opening the front door, letting (Y/N) pass through before he walked out behind her.

She scoffed, “maybe you should hook me up with someone, maybe then you can leave rehab.”

“I miss Meatloaf,” Namjoon said solemnly, changing the subject.

“Why do you always change the subject when I bring up my love life?” (Y/N) complained, stomping her foot as they walked down the hallway of the apartment building toward the elevator.

“Do you think Yoongi will respond if we try to summon him?” He ignored the question.

“Hey Joon? Is your dick ribbed? I heard all the demon dicks were ribbed.”

Namjoon stopped in his tracks, putting his feet together and staring down at the human with a face screaming ‘what-the-fuck?’ (Y/N) had a boxy smile on her face, waiting for a response. “Who the fuck did you hear that from?”

“A fanfic I read, it was a group called DTS,” she shrugged. “Is it right though?” she leaned forward slightly in high expectations.

“Well-” Namjoon paused, “uhhh…” his eyes darted around. “Mine… isn’t.”

“Damn- that’s really disappointing,” (Y/N) frowned, throwing down an imaginary hat onto the ground and continuing walking with Namjoon following behind her.

“Why is it disappointing? You’re a virgin.” Namjoon raised an eyebrow.

“Why would you think I’m a virgin?” (Y/N) looked offended. They stopped in front of the closed silver elevator doors, Namjoon hit the down button before responding.

“You literally had no social life in middle and high school and depended on demons who were attached to you by force in order to not lose your ability to speak in English.” Namjoon raised a finger, “Plus I’ve known you since you were ten and unless it was before that… I would know.” He slipped into the elevator, turning around and walking backwards. A know-it-all smirk plastered on his face while (Y/N) had an annoyed look on her own.

“Can we just- stop before we start arguing about my sex life?” She marched forward into the elevator like a preteen going into their room after an argument with their parents.

“How did you even become a professor?” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon confused. “Couldn’t you have just you know… poofed yourself from people’s view when I go to school?”

“I need something to do while you’re in class. I might as well teach asshole frat boys how to do business math amiright.” Namjoon chuckled.

“I mean… you can just be the ghost you are and haunt me n’ stuff?” (Y/N) suggested, “I mean you already do that, Casper.”

“That’s Professor Casper to you.” Namjoon laughed too hard at his own joke.

“Ew,” (Y/N) cringed. “I’d rather call you Daddy Casper.”

“Only in the bedroom.” Namjoon looked at the human.

“Sex doesn’t always have to be private.” (Y/N) stared back at the demon, flipping her hair back. “Wait- are YOU a virgin then?” She asked, bringing back the topic from earlier, but this time about Namjoon.

“Classified.” Namjoon glared.

“So you ARE a virgin?” (Y/N) snorted a laugh, “And you call yourself a demon.”

“Not all demons are incubi or succubi, your demon-racist.” Namjoon accused.

“I am not demon-racist.” (Y/N) looked up at the tall demon, “I’m human.”

“You’re not a human, you’re the personification of the word ‘dumbass.’” He said, poking the proclaimed dumbass on the forehead.

“Rude of you to assume what I am, Casper.” (Y/N) smacked away his hand and pushed Namjoon not so gently on the shoulder.

“Now you’re the hypocrite,” Namjoon glared, “Professor Casper.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes, “Daddy Casper.”

Namjoon frowned, “If you’re so persistent on not calling me Professor, then just Daddy works fine.”

The girl shrugged, “I’d prefer to just call you Daddy Casper, but without the Daddy part.”

“But what if I want to be called Daddy Casper.” Namjoon wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as they walked through the gates of the school, the walk soon enough would be coming to an end.

“Woahhhh down bessie.” (Y/N) lifted her hands and moved them in a downward motion, “Save it for the student who’s gonna try to fuck you for their grade.”

Namjoon laughed again, “You say it as if it won’t be you trying to fuck for an A.”

“I don’t get how an idiot like you got a job as a professor.” (Y/N) punched Professor Namjoon on the shoulder who was still laughing at the insult he pulled out his ass against the girl.

“I don’t know how an idiot like you got into college.” Namjoon rubbed his shoulder and then pushed (Y/N) back with a grin on his face. The bell conveniently rang, ending the conversation and forcing the pair to speed their way over to the classrooms.

“You know I saw one of the sorority girls eyeing you, I think we’ve found our fuck-for-a-grade person.” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon, “You wouldn’t fuck her right?”

“I would never fuck one of my students.” Namjoon looked at (Y/N), “Plus I don’t like cheerleaders, I like depressed freshmen who can see demons and that double time as rehab facilities.”

“I am not a rehab facility. I am a struggling freshman.” (Y/N) clapped at Namjoon.

“No you’re not a rehab facility, you’re my rehab facility.” Namjoon smiled cheekily, “And the way I see it you are not a struggling freshman, you live with a professor that helps you with most of your homework.”

“Eh- The one thing you don’t help with is stress relief.” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon, “The least you could do is let me go out and find a boyfriend.”

“You HAVE a boyfriend.” Namjoon looked at (Y/N) seriously.

“WHERE? WHO?” (Y/N)’s eyes frantically searched the room.

“HERE! ME!” Namjoon pointed at himself and then widened his eyes.(Y/N) looked at Namjoon with a raised brow, her frantic eyes stopping and looking the demon up and down.

“I didn’t know you had a rental-boyfriend service?” (Y/N) said in genuine shock, “I don’t have any money though so-“

“You don’t have to rent me.” Namjoon scoffed, “I’m right here and I cost no money.”

“I don’t take charity work, sorry.” Namjoon groaned and covered his face with a hand.

“You’re literally the most stubborn person I know.”

“I’m trying to keep my single streak here, thank you very much.”

“Wait so we aren’t dating?”

“You thought we were dating?”

“You didn’t think that?”

“You like me?”

“You didn’t know?”

“I mean- you never said it-”

“I literally said it seconds ago, (Y/N).”

“Well yeah, seconds ago I guess but I mean before?”

“I literally confessed to you when we were looking for apartments to move out of your parents house.”

“When?-”

“What about this place then?”

“I like it.”

“More than you like me?”

“No.”

“Good.”

“Are you questioning my love for you?”

“Bitch, maybe I am.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Why shouldn’t I be questioning it then, hmm?”

“I’m literally helping you look for a home that we both will move into.”

“That proves nothing.”

“Bitch- If that doesn’t say ‘I LOVE YOU’ I don’t know what does.”

“Oh, I don't know. Maybe saying ‘I love you’ straight up?”

“Fine.”

“I love you.”

“Nice.”

“Ohhhhhh.” (Y/N) smiled, “You meant that?”

Namjoon looked at her with a blank face. She stared back waiting for an answer that didn’t come.

“So… you do mean it?” She confirmed it herself. The demon nodded slowly, waiting for her to process it.

“(Y/N)? You good?” Namjoon waved a hand in front of her face.

“You know,” she started, finally having rebooted her system. “There’s a lot of things wrong with this relationship. First of all, you’re a demon and I'm a human.”

“Not the first time I've heard of that type of relationship.”

“Secondly, you’re supposed to leave soon considering you’ve delayed it enough. Even using my personified dreamcatcher as compensation to stay longer.”

“I’m pretty sure at this point, they’ve given up on trying to get me back.”

“Third of all, it’s weird that you’ve literally known me since I was ten.” She held up ten fingers, “How old are you again?”

“Not that old for a demon,” he shrugged.

“Exactly. For a demon, thank you for proving my point.” Namjoon went to retort but (Y/N) continued. “Fourth, teacher and student relationships are weird.”

“People roleplay it in the bedroom?” Namjoon shrugged once again.

“Exactly,” she said again.

“It’s technically not weird since you’re not my student though. You’re definitely not a business major so…” Namjoon weighed the pros and cons of being caught with a student even if said student isn’t even one of his.

“I’m an English Major- BUT that’s besides the point. You’ve still known me since I was ten.” (Y/N) poked Namjoon’s chest.

“Hey it’s not like I was creeping on you when you were a kid…” Namjoon raised his hands in defense.

“No you just started creeping on me when I was around sixteen.”

“It’s more acceptable than pedophiles!”

“You’re like three hundred!” She exclaimed, she threw her hands above her head to

“Add about seven-hundred years to that.” Namjoon added with slight hesitation.

(Y/N) stood there, mouth agape, trying to do the mental math.

“You’re one-thousand?!”

“Give or take some.”

“I- I’m going to remove myself from this situation.” (Y/N) walked away.

[:] I ran out of image things, so we get text from now on. [:]

“Maybe I should start sleeping in the closet.” Namjoon voiced his thoughts as he was grading papers one night.

“You don’t have to sleep in the closet.” (Y/N) looked at the demon from across the kitchen table.

“The closet is comfortable.” Namjoon shrugged before voicing his concerns about the student’s work, “I’m pretty sure this student is gonna try to suck my dick for an A. This work sucks ass. How did she even get x=34? The answer is x=0!”

“I’m bad at math, don't look at me.” (Y/N) jotted a note down on her work before closing her notebook.

“But anyway- Back on track. Why do you want to start sleeping in the closet?” (Y/N) raised a questioning brow.

“Because the bed is awkward now.” Namjoon sighed before writing a bold ‘10/35’ down on the paper and circling it. (Y/N) glanced over at the paper that was marked red at every inch of it.

“You should put ‘see me after class’ on it. Maybe she’ll suck your non-ribbed demon dick.” (Y/N) suggests as she puts away her notebook. Namjoon’s fist hit the table in annoyance with a loud sigh that definitely said ‘i’m not getting some dumb bitch to suck my dick.’ The girl snorted, “Geez, no need to be so rough on the table.”

“Stop bringing up my non-ribbed demon dick.” Namjoon glared across the table.

“You admit that it’s not ribbed? That’s rough, man.” (Y/N) sighed sympathetically. “Some people are into that, you know.” Namjoon facepalmed, a bit too harshly, a loud smack echoing in the cramped apartment. “No need to be so rough, Casper.”

“You’d probably like it rough, and why the hell are you so bent on the fact that my dick isn’t ribbed?” Namjoon glared, moving onto the next student’s paper.

“We’ve taken the god damn BDSM test together, Casper. You KNOW I'd like it rough.” (Y/N) said in a smart-ass tone, knowing for a fact that they’ve done the test before.

“That shit lies,” Namjoon declared, “I’m not a bottom.”

“We know sweetie, we know. The test did you dirty.” (Y/N) weighed her options before ultimately deciding not to cross the room to comfort her demon. “But you know, the test DID have some direct questions-”

“You mean like the golden showers?”

“Ew, why would you even bring that up.”

“You said ‘direct questions.'” Namjoon shrugged.

“That question was traumatic.” (Y/N) shuddered, “But anyway, You can keep sleeping in the bed. It’s only awkward for you. Plus you can’t even be a demon dreamcatcher from a closet.”

“I can and I will. Now go get ready for bed. I'll join you in a bit. I have to email the kids' advisor.”

[:] Oh wow, another spliter [:]

“What’s awkward about this?” (Y/N) asked, ignorant to the fact that it was very awkward. Her legs were wrapped around the demon’s waist, who was laying down as straight as a log uncomfortably.

“Everything is uncomfortable.” Namjoon tried to push (Y/N) off of him.

“This is where you’re wrong,” (Y/N) states. “Your chesticles are very comfortable.” She furthered her point, by moving her head and weirdly nuzzling her cheek into his chest.

“(Y/N) get off of me.” Namjoon was now really uncomfortable.

“No.” (Y/N) pulled Namjoon’s log-body closer.

“Please?” Namjoon wiggled some more, “Seriously (Y/N) get off.”

“No…” (Y/N) held Namjoon tighter, “Imma go sleep now.”

“Ok (Y/N).” With that Namjoon pushed (Y/N) up and off of him and climbed out of bed and into the closet.

(Y/N) whined, “Nooooooo!” She looked at the closet through her eyebrows. “Are you hiding something from me?” She accused the demon.

“Excuse me?” Namjoon opened the closet door a bit.

“Oh my god- are you a closet gay?” She gasped loudly.

“WHAT?” Namjoon looked at (Y/N) from the crack in the doorway.

“It’s okay! You don’t need to use a fake confession to hide it from me.” She comforted the demon, “I will support you 1000 percent.”

“I’M NOT GAY!” Namjoon wiggled around in the closet before emerging from the space.

“Okay okay- but just so you know, there’s nothing wrong with being gay, Casper. Closeted or not.” She hummed, her words being muffled as she slowly put her face into the mattress.

“It’s been awkward since you basically called me a cradle robber, you stubborn piece of shit.” Namjoon blushed at his confession.

“I thought you didn’t care about that earlier.” (Y/N) looked back up, taking a deep breath of air after almost suffocating herself.

“Well I did.” Namjoon huffed out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Well that sucks,” (Y/N) said blandly, “I was thinking of saying I love you.”

“The fuck- wait,” Namjoon’s eyes widened.

“Night night.”

[:] Cockadoodle-Doo it's morning [:]

The next morning came around quickly for (Y/N), though I wouldn’t say the same for Namjoon. Having him overthinking the “postponed” love confession from (Y/N). Meanwhile, though the night was quick, the morning dragged the girl by the toilet paper stuck at the bottom of her shoe.

Frown plastered on her face, seemingly deep in thought. She was unmoving in her seat aside from her wrist moving to stir the half eaten cereal in front of her. Namjoon sat across from her, “You can stop thinking, you’re going to hurt your head.”

The insult snapped the girl out of her concentration, she looked up and clicked her tongue. “I was just thinking about you. You want me to stop doing that?”

Namjoon raised a brow, “Depends on what you were thinking about.”

“I was wondering if we could summon the boys,” (Y/N) smiled before continuing, “Maybe get my socks back…”

“Are you saying you’d enjoy the company of your socks more than you with me?” Namjoon asked rhetorically with a shocked expression. (Y/N) gagged and rolled her eyes.

“Namjoon…” she said with a honey coated tone. “Are you saying you don’t know that I know you’ve used MY socks before?” The accused had a shocked look on his face that looked like he was on the verge of throwing up.

(Y/N) started snickering, amused by the demon’s expression. “As if I'd use your cheap ass yellow striped socks,” Namjoon aimed his nose at the ceiling. The girl laughed harder, finding the insult to her socks a bit too amusing.

“Okay, back on topic,” she said in between giggles, “We’ll get back to this later.” Namjoon shook his head, unamused unlike the person across from him.

The offended sock insulter cleared his throat, “We should have enough time before we need to go to the school to summon one of them.” He said in a factual voice, (Y/N) nodded as she took a glance at the time that read 7:23 am.

“What did we need again?” She got up from the stool she sat on, abandoning the poor soggy cereal. Namjoon got up also with a hum of thought.

“Candles and a lighter are the main things, obviously,” He says. (Y/N) nodded going into one of the kitchen cabinets for the items. “And if we’re summoning all of them, we’d need offerings…” Namjoon drifted off.

(Y/N) put down the candles onto the marble counter and looked at Namjoon questionably, “So… we need another hamster and dog?” This made the demon pause before nodding slowly, the situation becoming a bit more difficult than it needed to be now.

“And then what about Hobi? What he took wasn’t exactly… a physical object?” She also put it into consideration and clicked her tongue. “I’m still mad at you for sacrificing my literal source of happiness and good luck for yourself.” Namjoon’s jaw dropped.

“I thought we were past this!” He threw his hands up in the air, (Y/N) flipping him off simultaneously.

“Maybe you were,” she sassed, pointing fingers with a half assed glare.

“Technically, it wasn’t a sacrifice, (Y/N).” He said, crossing his arms.

“Well-” She was cut off by the demon.

“Nuh uh, It was just him choosing to leave and wanting to stay,” he snapped, not in a harsh way though.

“But-”

“You know what, let’s just try and summon them another day. I don’t think it’d work anyways.” Namjoon said, dismissing the topic by waving his hand, taking a glance at the tree outside.

[:] Wooshy flash back time I guess [:]

“Why are you still here?” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon, “I mean weren’t you supposed to leave this year?”

“I was supposed to leave instead of Hobi last year. I asked to stay.” Namjoon was sitting nonchalantly in one of the lounge chairs in her parents' living room reading the book she was supposed to be reading for school.

“Why didn’t you leave when you were supposed to?” (Y/N) looked at the demon, a look of confusion evident on her features.

“Who else is supposed to write your book reports for school?” Namjoon smirked while holding up the book before going back to reading said book.

“Then why did Hobi leave? Did he not want to be attached anymore?” (Y/N) began to tear up.

“It’s not that. I asked to stay because I felt I wasn’t ready to leave yet and Hoseok felt he was ready to leave. Most of the time, we leave when our time comes (Y/N). Hobi and mine were at the same time and I wanted to stay so I stayed.” Namjoon smiled at (Y/N).

“But why didn’t Hobi want to stay?” (Y/N)’s tears were flowing freely at this point.

“(Y/N)! Are you crying?” (Y/N)’s mom came rushing downstairs to investigate why her only child was crying.

“I’m fine.” Even (Y/N) wasn’t convincing herself, “Really Mom, I’m just over exhausted. I’m gonna go up to my room.”

[:] And back to the present :) [:]

“Are you almost ready to go?” Namjoon popped his head into the bedroom, “We have to leave soon if you want to be on time for school.”

“I’m almost ready, relax. And don’t you have a class to teach and a non-ribbed dick to get sucked by that one bitch for an A?” (Y/N) scoffed from where she was printing an essay that Namjoon had written the night before.

Namjoon started counting down from five, “Five- You better fucking get your ass in gear or you’re gonna be late. Four- Seriously (Y/N). Three- Professor Howard can’t give you another pass just because he likes you. Two-” Namjoon got cut off by (Y/N).

“I’m ready, asshole.” (Y/N) looked at him, “You better not let that bitch Brianna suck your dick.”

“I won’t let her suck my dick!” Namjoon raised his hands in defense, “What about my toes though?” (Y/N) looked at the demon with a face of disgust and looked at him from head to toe.

“Are you Namjoon or Taehyung?” She squinted, looking at his face.

“It was a joke!” Namjoon smirked, “But I'm sure she’ll do it for an A anyway.”

“I’m done with this conversation Casper.” With that (Y/N) slung her bag over her shoulder and left.

“Hey wait!” Namjoon grabbed his own bag before speed walking after (Y/N).

[:] Professor Casper or Daddy Casper? [:]

“SO.” (Y/N) sat down across from Namjoon in his office, “Rumour has it that you’re dating a cute english-lit major and are up for evaluation. What say you in your defense?”

“I mean I am dating a cute english-lit major. But I’m not up for evaluation, I used my demon charms to get out the punishment.”

Namjoon looked at (Y/N) seriously.

“Did you actually?” (Y/N) gaped at Namjoon.

“No. I explained that dating you is punishment enough.” Namjoon smiled, his dimples popping.

“Bastard.” (Y/N)looked at Namjoon.

“Bitch.” Namjoon smirked at (Y/N) before leaning over the desk and kissing her on the forehead, “I love you.”

“Good.” (Y/N) blushed.

There, through the window of the office, there were 6 peeping toms watching the couple.

“Adadada-uda,” Taehyung stuttered, “THEY’RE SO CUTE!”

“This looks like it’d turn out like a straight porn video on the hub,” Yoongi says bluntly.

Jungkook looked at Yoongi, “Ew straight.”

“Moving on,” Seokjin cleared his throat, “Does anyone remember when (Y/N) said I love you back?”

A series of “No’s” could be heard.

“Maybe we weren’t watching!” Jimin raised his hands, “But when were we not watching?”

“Oh I know!” Hoseok interrupted, “When they split up because of classes earlier. We left Yoongi hyung in charge just in case something happened.”

“I took a nap and must've missed it.” The guilty demon shrugged.

“No, (Y/N) definitely isn’t someone who confesses straight up.” Seokjin said, stroking his chin. The rest nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, that's why she didn’t have a man when we were still there.” Jungkook snorted.

“No JK, we all know the reason why (Y/N) was always single. Was because she was pining after Namjoon.” Jimin stated the obvious.

[:] Damn. Imagine having someone to kiss in public. Or at all. [:]

“So how do you reckon the staff caught onto us… I mean PDA really isn’t our thing.” Namjoon looked at (Y/N), “Who have you told?”

“I haven’t told anyone!” (Y/N) frowned, “Maybe someone saw us go home together? I bet it was that bitch Brianna. She gives off the stalker vibes.”

“I’m not gonna let her suck my dick.” Namjoon looked at (Y/N), “And she’s already failing my class so even if I did let her suck my non-ribbed punisher, she still would probably only have a D-.”

“Hey- I thought we stopped referring to your dick as non-ribbed.” Namjoon raised a brow, making a face that said ‘you’re-the-one-who-started-it.’

Reading his expression (Y/N) glared at the demon, “Technically you’re the one who started it because you freely admitted it freely.”

“What makes you find out the hard way that my dick isn’t ribbed?” Namjoon looked at (Y/N) suggestively before flopping namtiddie first into the couch.

“I think I would've preferred finding out the hard way.” (Y/N) flopping onto Namjoon’s hard back.

“So I can’t even have the couch to myself?” Namjoon groaned before realizing what (Y/N) meant by ‘finding out the hard way,’ “Are you saying you rather had found out in the heat of the moment after having prepared yourself for a ribbed demon dick?” Namjoon leaned his head up to bump (Y/N) who still had her fat ass on his back, “I can’t breathe, get off.”

(Y/N) rolled off of Namjoon before plopping herself down in front of Namjoon, “That’s exactly what I am saying.”

[:] Smh stalkers at every moment [:]

“And I got a big fat ass!” (Y/N) shook her ass while singing off-key.

“Your ass is everything but big, baby.” Namjoon passed (Y/N) to reach for the garlic from the spice cabinet.

The girl turned and looked at Namjoon with an offended look, “You know. As my rental boyfriend, you’re supposed to be nice.”

Garlic forgot, Namjoon turned to (Y/n) and grabbed her waist, “I’m not your rental boyfriend and you know that.”

(Y/N) laughed, “Okay go off I guess, not my rental boyfriend.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes before pushing Namjoon away.

“Woman,” Namjoon placed a hand over his heart, “You wound me.”

(Y/N) turned around and smiled at her demon, “I could argue that you’re the one that wounds me.”

“I do not wound you.” Namjoon scoffs, “But I could very well wound you if you keep saying i’m a rental boyfriend, love.”

“Well we wouldn’t want you to wound me now would we,” (Y/N) smiled up at Namjoon before leaning in and placing a quick peck to his lips, “I love you.”

Namjoon smiled before returning (Y/N)’s peck with a chaste kiss, “I love you too, baby.”

*Meanwhile from the dining room 6 men were watching from not so afar*

“Hyung! Hyung! Did you see that!” Jungkook excitedly pointed towards the couple in the kitchen.

Yoongi groaned, “See what?”

“Le gasp! How could you have missed that!” Taehyung held a hand over his heart, “(Y/N) initiated affection for once!”

Jin smiled, “It really was adorable.”

[:] Oh look, you're at the end. [:]

“Every kiss begins with consent.” Namjoon wiggled his shoulders while grading papers at the table.

(Y/N) smirked before leaning over the table and planting a large whet kiss on Namjoon’s cheek.

“Rude.” Namjoon scoffed before pulling (Y/N) in for a proper kiss.

“You know that kiss didn’t have much of my consent in it.” (Y/N) smiled before leaning in for another kiss.

“I don’t think I consented to that either though.” Namjoon smiled.

“Get back to work baby.” (Y/N) nudged Namjoon towards his pile of papers.

“Yeah yeah.” Namjoon smiled before looking down and putting a big red ‘F’ on a paper clearly marked Brianna Simms.

“When will she just drop the class?” (Y/N) chuckled, “Dumbass.”

do not repost, translate, or claim as your own. :]

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axoxtxhxh · 3 years

Text

Promise Me - Chapter 2 - The Fight

Summary: Armin convinced Reader to let him out for the day. On their way out, they get into some trouble and Reader gets hurt.

ArminxFem!Reader

Content: Blood, a little bullying, fighting, immigrant-hating (? I’m not really sure what to call it), me failing at using old-timey slang XD

Word Count: ~ 4,500

Armin’s eyes widened with excitement and he jumped up from where he was sitting. He was going to say something, but thought better of it. Standing quietly next to you with a huge grin on his face. He shook his hair out and smoothed it down and you felt a tiny twinge in your chest that forced you to smile. His innocence was always so endearing.

It was probably best that you didn’t both go out wearing scout regiment uniforms and you moved to the few extra articles of clothing you had next to the bed, digging around. The weather in this country was quite similar to Paradis and would have normally been warm at this time of year, but today was colder. The sun was hidden behind the clouds covering the sky and it looked as though there would be rain. If you didn’t actually need to go to the store, you probably would have skipped it on a day like this.

Unfortunately, all that was in the pile of extra clothing were short sleeves and thin shirts, the only clothing cheap enough for you to afford. They would have to work for now.

“What are you looking for?” Armin peeked over.

“We both can’t be out wearing our uniform,” you explained, “it’s bad enough that I wore it. Both of us wearing it together will look bad.”

You stood up holding a short-sleeved t-shirt, quickly removing your uniform shirt and handing it to Armin. He took it from you and folded it, replacing it in the bag while you put on the t-shirt.

“Ready?” You packed the small amount of change you had in your pants pocket.

“Won’t you be cold?” Armin worried. He didn’t mind wearing the t-shirt instead of you wearing it. He looked over your arms and really became aware just how much muscle you’d lost already.

“I’ll be fine. Let’s go.”

The walk to the store was only about ten minutes and not that scenic, but watching Armin look around in awe made the experience entirely different for you. He watched the people and cars moving around him quickly with a huge smile on your face and you smiled, feeling pretty happy that he convinced you to bring him along.

Armin couldn’t believe everything he was seeing. So many people, so many different people, all the cars, the food being sold on the street, everything was so new and amazing. He was breathing in the smells coming from the food vendors, barely wanting to blink in fear that he would miss something. He looked up to you and saw that you were smiling.

As you were walking, you thought about how strange it must be seeing the two of you together. You were definitely older than Armin, but not old enough for people to mistake you as his mother, maybe his young aunt. He was smaller than you as well, not just in height, but in build. Somehow, his black scouts uniform made him look bigger though.

The reactions of the people on the street were quite different today than they normally were. Maybe it was because it was a cloudy day and people knew rain would be coming in soon or maybe you did look different with Armin walking next to you, but everyone almost seemed friendlier.

There wasn’t a food stall that you passed that wasn’t saying ‘hello’ with a smile when you normally never even got a glance in your direction. A couple of them even gave Armin a free sample to taste which he accepted with an excited ‘thank you’ and shared with you while you walked. You kept looking over at him as he smiled at everyone with his big, blue eyes. It was definitely Armin that was making the difference. His less threatening face and cheerful look in his eyes was getting the attention of everyone you moved past.

You made it to the store and the lady behind the counter who usually paid no attention to you wasn’t any different from the rest of the town, happily greeting Armin with a welcoming smile on her face. You moved to the back of the store knowing what you needed and quickly grabbing it. There was no need to be out more than necessary. Armin took the supplies from you and you both went back to the counter.

“Looks like terrible weather today,” she said smiling at Armin.

“Rainy weather is nice with a cup of tea.” He smiled back.

“Such a positive way of thinking about it.” She rang up the items. “Are you guys from around here?”

“We’re just visiting,” he replied. You remembered another item you needed and quickly ran back to the aisle in the back, tucked all the way in the corner, ‘feminine products’. It was completely different here than back home. Each time you came back thinking they would restock what you were used to using, but it was only ever the same products. You grabbed a box at random and went back to the front.

“This one is my favorite,” the cashier was saying to Armin, “it’s perfect for days like today.”

“Thank you for the information!” His innocent smile was winning everyone over. She put it in the bag with your stuff and Armin spoke up to protest. “Oh, I’m sorry. We can’t pay for that.”

“No problem.” She winked. “It’s on the house.”

“Thank you!” Armin was beaming.

He looked back to you as you set your box of tampons on the counter, looking at the box, then back to you, concern hitting his eyes. You paid for the stuff and grabbed your bags, heading back out to the street.

“Wait… wait, Y/N.” Armin rushed next to you, taking the two small bags from you. “I can carry these for you. You should rest.”

“What for?” You kept walking.

“Your condition.” His eyes were wide, still full of worry.

“Trust me—” You tried not to laugh at his concern. “—I’m fine. Besides, the bags aren’t even heavy.”

“Even still, I will—”

“What do we have here?” A voice called from a group of older boys just outside the store. Both Armin and you turned to see who they were talking to. “It looks like a couple out-of-towners.”

The group of boys laughed and that’s when you knew they were talking about you and Armin. You turned Armin around to keep walking.

“Hey, blondie. Nice outfit.” Another voice called. You stopped where you were standing. Armin turned to grab your hand, but you stayed there.

“Looks like we got a bearcat on our hands, fellas.” The group laughed.

“Don’t listen to them.” Armin was pulling you, but you weren’t budging.

“Come on, you got something to say?” The boys kept jeering.

“Don’t tell us you’re going to listen to that little guy.” Another boy taunted, throwing an empty can at you, just missing your head.

You turned around quickly, walking over to them and narrowing your eyes.

“Is there a problem?” You asked, taking time to glare at each of them.

There were four boys. They each looked to be around eighteen, maybe nineteen. They were clearly bored and looking for someone to bother. If they wanted a fight, you would give them one. It had been a while since you sparred. Why not take out some aggression on some punk kids.

“As a matter of fact—” the boy sitting on the table stood up, “—there is. We don’t like your kind coming over to our country and stinking it up.” “Our kind?”

“Yeah, foreigners.” He spit whatever it was he was chewing right next to your foot on the ground. “You’re leaving a mess.”

“I think you’re mistaking me for your friend there.” You nodded at the one who threw the can.

“Whatchu mean?” He spit off to the side again and you clenched your jaw.

“The porky ashcan sitting behind you.”

All the boys stood up at that and the spitting one calmed them down, putting his hands up until they settled.

“I think you need to be more careful with who you’re calling a porky ashcan.” He narrowed his eyes and spit, this time right in front of you, the splotch landing directly on your shoe. You moved quickly forward, but Armin was faster, standing in between the two of you and holding you back with his hand.

“Wait! Wait! We will be more careful.” He was looking at you, then turned to look at the boys. “She’s just tired. It’s making her angry. We will be more careful.”

“Looks like the blondie can tame the bearcat.” The spitter smiled an ugly smile.

“We’re sorry to bother you.” Armin nodded and pulled you along. You glared at the spitter until Armin pulled you far enough away and you both continued along the sidewalk.

“Why did you do that?” You griped. “You realize I could take them. Easily.”

“We fight titans. I don’t doubt your abilities.” His voice was low. “But you can’t just lose your temper like this every time you get a bit upset.”

“A bit upset??” You turned to look at him, your eyes wide. “He threw garbage at us, called us names and spit on me. I am more than ‘a bit upset’.”

“Let’s just get back.” Armin’s walked quickly, the smile on his face from earlier was gone.

You sighed as you followed him. Were you getting irrationally angry? It seemed like an appropriate amount of anger to you. They were punk kids that probably needed a lesson anyway. You looked over your shoulder, seeing them following you both. They might actually get that lesson if they stick close.

Before you even had the chance to prepare a plan, one of them ran forward, pushing Armin and he tripped, falling forward into the sidewalk.

“Armin!” You ran down to help him sit up and checked his face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” His cheek was bleeding, scratched on the rough surface of the sidewalk. You were seething, fists shaking, breathing heavily and unsuccessfully trying to control your anger. Armin could see how upset you were and held your hand. “Y/N, I’m okay. Don’t do anything.”

You stood up and turned around, shoving your fist in the face of the first boy you saw, the porky ashcan. His head flew back and he fell to the ground, knocked out. The other boys started getting loud, yelling threats and running at you. You moved away from Armin and drew their attention to the little junkyard area behind you.

The second boy made his way over, fists flying and you ducked and dodged until you got him in the stomach and a kick to the face where he doubled over, falling to the ground.

The next one was coming at you with a misplaced kick and you laughed at him, making him angrier until he was close enough for you to grab his collar and headbutt him, knocking him out cold.

The spitter was last, walking up to you with a confidence you could tell he didn’t earn. You hit him and he quickly shook it off. He must have been hit before, familiar with the feeling and not as shocked as the others were. He grabbed the collar of your shirt and lifted you up. You had to admit, you weren’t exactly a lightweight, the guy had some muscle.

Picking you up was a mistake though. You quickly threw your leg over his shoulder and shifted the weight, taking him down until you were straddling him, one more close hit and he was out too. You smiled, standing up and wiping your hands. You were about to turn around to head back to Armin when porky ashcan tackled you, knocking you down and into a metal shard sticking up from the ground.

“FUCK!” You screamed. You were panting when porky ashcan climbed off of you and the other boys woke up. Seeing what happened and watching the blood soak into your white shirt, they all fled, leaving you lying there.

“Y/N!” Armin ran over, helping you sit up.

“Shit.” Your breathing was shallow and quick, sharp pain stabbing your lungs as you shook, trying to grip the edge of the shard. It wasn’t thick, but it went clear through the side of your lower abdomen. “Is it all the way through?”

You lifted up the side of your shirt to take a look. Armin knelt down next to you, holding your hip and helping you lift your shirt.

“Yeah.” His eyes were wide. Armin didn’t even need to lift your shirt to know it was straight through, the back of your shirt stained with blood.

“Help me get it out.” You leaned forward, resting your head on his shoulder.

His hands were shaking as he reached forward, gripping the edge sticking out of your stomach. He wiped the beads of sweat that formed on his upper lip with the back of his hand and shifted his legs a bit. He didn’t want to do this. He reallydidn’t want to do this, but he couldn’t ask you to do it.

He gritted his teeth, forcing the water sitting in the corners of his eyes to roll down his cheeks and he blinked to clear his vision then pulled. Quickly, and yet somehow so slowly, and with a dragged-out groan from you, the shard was out of your stomach and Armin set it to the side, resting both of his hands on your shoulder to help steady you.

“Fucking shit,” you breathed. “Damn it.”

The cut wasn’t that big, mainly hitting the bulk of muscles you had at your side, but it was bleeding quite a bit. This is exactly what you didn’t need right now. You didn’t need something slowing you down, something stopping you from being at your best. You took a deep breath, Armin still examining how bad the cut was.

“I think you need stitches.” He wiped his eyes harshly on the back of his sleeve.

“I’ll be fine.” You winced as you dropped the shirt back down, lightly pressing on the cut.

“You can’t beat an injury just by being strong, Y/N. You need stitches.” Armin stood up. “I’ll be right back.”

“Armin, where are you going? Armin!” You called after him, but he was already out of view and most likely nearing out of earshot. You had no idea how he had that much energy, but you didn’t have time to think about it. You couldn’t decide if it was better to stay sitting how you were or to get moving. There was no way you would be able to help Armin if he did get in trouble. The best way to help was not sit around and take your time.

You slowly stood yourself up, the twisting and stretching starting to pull at the cut causing your vision to go white. You stopped midway, wincing and taking a deep breath, then getting yourself to fully stand up. You kept pressure on the wound and walked back to pick up the bags and slowly made your way back to your abandoned building.

You were definitely losing blood. You could feel it pooling in your hand as you held your stomach, but it wasn’t enough to prevent you from moving, though moving was only contributing to the continuous flow of blood to the cut.

It was only a couple more minutes until you would reach the building and you could rest. You took a deep breath, your feet starting to drag slightly as you fought your mind wanting your body to sleep.

You could barely hear Armin’s voice yelling for you behind you. In your attempt to slow down and turn, you lost your balance and started falling. Armin quickly ran forward and caught you.

“What the hell are you doing?!” His face was right in front of yours, eyes bright blue and glassy. His jaw was clenched in anger. “Why are you trying to carry all this and walk when you’re injured? Are you crazy?”

Seeing him yelling at you only made you smile, your vision going black shortly, body limp, before returning and you blinked yourself back.

“We need to get back,” you mumbled. Armin put you on his back and grabbed the bags, moving as fast as he could back to the building. Thankfully, the cloudy weather sent most people inside and walking through the final small streets weren’t as difficult.

Armin managed to get everything, including you, back up the stairs and moved you to the bathroom, setting you against the sink.

“I think this might hurt.” He worried.

“I promise you, I’m already in pain.” You pulled off your shirt. “Just get it over with so I can lay down.”

Armin washed his hands and wet the small rag he had with him, bringing it to the wound and wiping gently, trying to watch your reactions.

“Fuck,” you grunted through gritted teeth. He lightened the pressure of the towel and ran the water through it, squeezing it out and wiping again. You watched as he quickly wiped his eyes with his shirt sleeve. “You don’t have to cry, I’m fine.”

“I’m not…” He looked up and met your eyes, sniffling. “I’m just worried.”

“It’s okay, Armin.” He looked back down and continued cleaning the wound with the wet towel before moving to the smaller cut in the back.

He knelt down in front of you, doing his best to stitch the gash closed, thankful it was a clean cut. He continued looking up as he worked, watching as you closed your eyes and your body swayed woozily. He wasn’t the best at medical aid, but you had both certainly stitched a cut or two while out on a mission. As he finished up the stitch, the bleeding slowed and he let out a small sigh.

He had managed to find some stitching supplies at the store and the lady working there was nice enough to give them to him for free. He knew you would most likely need some sort of antibiotic, but hoped the cleaning he did would be enough for now.

He finished up the stitches in the back and helped you to the bed. The second your body hit the blankets, you passed out.

You began to lose track of time as you came in and out of consciousness, each time asking Armin how much time had passed. By the end of the second day, you were more aware and able to stay awake.

“You need to try and eat something,” he suggested, handing you a piece of stale bread.

You refused the food and he leaned over you to check on the progress of healing.

“Please at least drink some water.” He handed you a cup and you went to grab it as he laid your shirt back down.

“G—damn it!” You grimaced. “Don’t push so hard.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He frowned, worrying about how much worse the pain is getting instead of better. He put his hand on your shoulder and you fell back asleep.

You woke up in the middle of the night, sweating and in extreme pain. There was a pulsing heat coming from your side and you were shaking as you moved to sit up, a wave of nausea passing over you as you leaned your back against the wall. It was cold and actually helped the heat you felt pouring over you.

You forced yourself to take quiet, deep breaths in order to not wake up Armin. You could easily fall back asleep. So easily you were fairly certain you hadn’t been sleeping at all, but passing out from the pain. Up until now you had been able to get up and use the bathroom yourself, but right now you weren’t even sure you could stand up by yourself.

You took another deep breath, bending your legs in front of you and leaning against the wall behind you to get yourself to slide up the wall, but it was no use. There was no way you were going to stand on your own. You moved your hand to Armin, trying to call his name through labored breaths. He opened his eyes and quickly sat up, seeing you sitting.

“I need to pee.” You tapped his hand lightly with your own.

“Do you want me to bring a bag or something?”

“I don’t think we’re there yet.” You tried to laugh, but only a puff of air came out. “I just need help to the bathroom.”

Armin nodded and moved closer to you. He hooked his hands under your armpits and lifted as you used your legs to help, whimpering at the pull against the laceration. As soon as you were upright, he wrapped your arm over his shoulder and helped move you to the bathroom.

The building didn’t have the greatest bathroom, but it did have separate stalls which was helpful if you and Armin needed to use the bathroom at the same time. That had yet to happen, but it was still nice. It was also helpful having indoor plumbing, something you both weren’t familiar with.

Armin sat you down and closed the door, waiting sleepily on the other side.

“How long were you awake?” He asked, yawning through his question.

“Not long.”

“Maybe we should clean the wound a little while you’re up.” You opened the door and he turned around to help you to the sink. Armin had been suspecting that it wasn’t healing properly. Pain would have been normal, but not the amount you had been in.

He leaned you up against the cold wall in between the two sinks and lifted your shirt. You could hear his quiet gasp as he looked at wound. Perfect.

“Tell me if it hurts when I touch it.” He leaned over and started just resting his hand on the front of your stomach, far from the actual cut which was closer to your side. He continued moving it, pressing lightly as he slid it more towards your side, but higher up, just under the band of your bra. At this point, it just felt like his hand on your skin.

Armin was doing his best to slowly approach the red streaks that were creeping out from the wound. It definitely looked bad. The scab was big, wider than it was the day before, pus leaking through the cracks in it. Thin red streaks were appearing on the edges. He lowered his hand to your waist, sliding back towards the wound and you winced, your body flinching away from his hand.

“Maybe it’s better if you clean it?” He stood up straight. “I’m worried it will hurt if I do it.”

“It’s okay.” You nodded. “I can handle it.”

Armin quickly washed his hands and you braced yourself over the sink. The moment he brought his hands to your waist, the stinging pain of the water and the weight of the pressure had you gripping the sink so tightly your knuckles were white.

Armin lightened his touch, watching your ab muscles flex as your breathing picked up.

“I’m sorry.” He pulled his hand away to get more water.

“Just… do it… quickly.” You could barely separate your teeth to talk. Armin finished up and patted you dry and you both moved back to the bed.

A couple hours later, the sun had barely risen, small slivers of light shining through the window above you. You were sitting against the wall, having trouble breathing. Armin sat in front of you, his eyes watering and trying to think of anything he could do for you.

Your skin had paled significantly, lips white and chapped. You were constantly sweating at this point and somehow still managed to feel cold and hot. The pain was nearly unbearable.

“I don’t know what to do.” He held your hand, his own hand shaking as he tried to calm you.

“It’s okay,” you breathed, “we need to… if I pass out again… you have to find a way…”

You had no idea how to explain to him that he had to keep going, even if you wouldn’t be able to help him.

“Y/N, no! You have to get better.” He begged.

“Armin, I—"

“Armin?” Both of your heads shot up at the unfamiliar voice ringing quietly through the room. Armin quickly turned around. It was still too dark to see anything farther in front of them.

Armin grabbed a stick from next to the bed and held it in his unsteady hands, aiming at the direction of the voice.

“I’m not here to hurt you.” The voice called.

You still couldn’t see the owner of the voice, but you could tell it was a man, his accent different from the other people in the country.

“Who—who are you?” Armin stepped forward.

“I can come closer so you can see me.” The man took slow steps closer to them, stepping into the bit of light they had. He was maybe in his mid-to-late forties with dark features and tanned skin. Armin squinted a bit, trying to get his eyes to focus on the man’s face.

“Fran—Francisco?” His voice shook and the man smiled.

“Yes, you remember me.” The man stepped forward a bit more and Armin stiffened, stepping back, closer to you. As if right on cue, you coughed. “I can see your friend is sick. I only want to help.”

“How did you know we were here?” Armin asked, his voice firmer than it was before.

“After I gave you those shoes, I wanted to make sure you were okay.” The man stepped forward again and Armin stepped closer, lifting the stick to threaten him. The man lifted his hands in reassurance that he wasn’t there to threaten you both. “I was watching you for the last couple days. I only want to help.”

The man took another step forward, only a couple feet from them now and Armin was starting to worry. He knew this man, but only as much as the five-minute conversation they had to learn each other’s names. He had no idea what he wanted from you both.

“Stay back!” He shook the stick.

“Okay, okay.” The man stepped back and lowered himself to the ground, sitting. “I just want to talk. I can see your friend is hurt. I can help her. I have a friend who’s a doctor.”

Armin’s eyes had been watering and he wiped them on the back of his hand, looking back to you, barely conscious, and turning back to Francisco.

“She needs a hospital, Armin.” His voice was calm. “I can help her.”

Armin couldn’t think. He needed time to think things through. He looked back to you, you were dying. You were definitely going to die if you didn’t get help, but he didn’t know that this man was actually going to be the help you needed. He brought his hands to his head, groaning through his clenched jaw. His mind was running wild. He just needed time to think.

“Armin…” your voice was weak, raspy and tired, barely audible, but the moment you spoke, he turned around, kneeling down to you.

“What do I do, Y/N?” He wiped the hair out of your face.

“We don’t have a choice. Let’s go with him.”

Francisco started standing up at your words, staying back until Armin told him it was okay to come closer. Your eyes closed as you slowly lost consciousness again, but not before hearing Armin’s voice in your ear.

“I won’t leave your side, Y/N. I promise.”

71 notes · View notes

peepeepotter · 3 years

Text

New Girl Hogwarts AU Chapter 5: Merry Christmas, Georgie.

Pairing: George Weasley x fem!reader; Harry Potter x Ginny Weasley

Warnings: Cursing? I think?

Word Count: 3.2 K

Series Masterlist

“It was just so weird.” Y/N shuddered, using her rolling pin on a sheet of cookies in the Hogwarts kitchens.

“I mean, yeah, that sounds uncomfortable as fuck. What are you guys, teenagers?” Fred asked her, his head in his hand, watching her closely. He had told George before, Y/N is totally George’s type. Fred couldn’t help but think that it was a surprise it took this long for them to have an uncomfortable sexually tense encounter. “What did Terry say?”

“What do you mean? Terry didn’t see. I don’t want Terry to know. I’m trying to date casually right now.” Y/N said, suddenly remembering the reason she moved into the loft.

“Casually? With TERRY? Have you met that guy? He looks like he cries during sex.” This made Y/N laugh loudly.

“It’s so weird to talk about this with you. You’re his twin, maybe I shouldn’t be talking to his dead brother about this.”

“Hey, I’m basically alive. I’m just a ghost. And stuck in this stupid castle.” Fred pouted, reaching to grab cookie dough and put it in his mouth. “Although I really can’t taste much. But from what I remember, this tastes a lot like some cookies mum used to make.” Fred smiled.

“Fred, I love you, but please don’t talk about your mom when I just told you about a sexual encounter with your brother.”

“Sexually tense encounter at best, don’t get ahead of yourself, love. Anyway, how could you be attracted to him? I’m so much better looking than him.” Fred scoffed, fake-offended. In actuality, Fred was quite happy that George was moving on from Angelina. Fred was especially happy George was moving on with one of Fred’s most consistent friends at Hogwarts. Plus she baked like Molly.

“Fred, I hate to break it to you, but you died when you were a teenager, so you still look like one. As an adult, I’m not attracted to teenagers.”

“I’ll have you know I was twenty when I died. No longer a teenager, thank you very much.” Fred grinned. “Besides, mentally I’m like four years older than you.”

“You know what I mean.” She rolled her eyes, but maintained a smile on her face. Y/N always liked hanging out with Fred, he was actually her first friend at the school. He found her crying one day after the breakup with McLaggen and did everything in his power to make her feel better about it. Ever since then, Y/N spent the majority of her free time between classes with Fred. She supposed it didn’t help that he looked an awful lot like the guy she liked. No, shut up, I don’t like him. Don’t listen to her thoughts, I’m the narrator. I’m always right, just wait.

“Y/N, do you even like Terry?”

“Well, he’s nice. And I could see myself liking him.”

“So you don’t.”

“Not yet.”

“Y/N.” Fred had his head resting in his hand against the counter, giving Y/N a look of pure disappointment. He knew Y/N and George would wind up together the minute he met her. He’s the one that showed her the ad on the wizarding web for a new place to live. Although, Y/N wasn’t happy that he didn’t tell her that she would find a man identical to him when she went to the interview with the boys. Fred just shrugged, he knew George well enough to know that they’d let her move in. He also knew George well enough to know that George would find Y/N just as adorable as Fred did.

“I just, maybe I need to rebound, okay? I don’t want to end up with someone like Terry, but I don’t want to end up hurting someone I really like in case I’m not ready to date yet.” To Fred, this sounded like code for ‘I don’t want to fuck up with your brother.’

“So you’re using Terry.”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“Y/N!” Fred chuckled, knowing he was right.

“I mean, so what? We’ve only been on a few dates, what’s the worst that could happen?” Little did Y/N know, she’d just jinxed herself.

“I’m sorry, what?” George asked, throwing his head back on the couch.

“We’re going to a party. Together, all of us.” Draco asserted. “None of you have a choice, I need people to know I have friends.” At this, Harry and George started snickering. Draco might not have been as bad as he was when they were at Hogwarts, and it certainly helped that he switched sides at the battle of Hogwarts, but people still didn’t like him.

“You mean you need—” George started.

“Don’t finish that sentence.” Draco quickly interrupted.

“What are we doing?” Y/N asked upon leaving her bedroom. “I was on the phone with my mom, what’s going on?”

“You mean mum, you stupid American.” George said unwavering, taking a sip from his beer.

“Okay, ha-ha, it was funny at first, now it’s just sad.” Y/N scrunched her nose. “Also do you ever drink water? I don’t think I’ve seen you drink anything other than beer for the past few months.”

“No comment.”

“We’re going to a Christmas party on Christmas eve.” Draco answered. He was tired of the two bickering all the time, and wouldn’t entertain it anymore.

“Oh fun! Can we also go look at Christmas lights? There’s this no-maj neighborhood not far—”

“A what neighborhood?” George asked, teasing Y/N.

“Muggle. I hate it here.” Y/N rolled her eyes. “Anyway, it’s called Candy Cane Lane and it’s supposed to be super cute.” Y/N’s face lit up, her hands clapping lightly out of excitement. George felt that stupid feeling in his stomach again.

“No.” Draco said.

“Sure.” George shrugged. Draco turned and glared at him. “If we have time. I have to get to the Burrow that night. I’ve missed Christmas with my family for the past three years because of these idiots.” He gestured towards Neville and Harry chatting in the kitchen.

“You’re supposed to party on Christmas eve!” Harry interjected.

“Yeah, party, not get black out drunk and go to the hospital annually.” George muttered, causing Y/N to giggle quietly. She took a seat on the couch near him. To her it seems that they had gone back to normal after their interaction on Thanksgiving.

“We’ll go if we have time.” George whispered to her again. She nodded with a small smile on her face.

“So Y/N,” Harry started, walking towards the couch from the kitchen.

“Harold.”

“It’s actually—”

“Just Harry, I know, it was a joke.”

“What are you getting your boyfriend for Christmas?”

“Oh god, I have to get him something? We're barely dating. What do you get someone you’re not that close to?”

“You don’t?” George offered.

“A plant?” Neville shouted from the kitchen.

“Hand soap. I have the feeling that man doesn’t have any in his bathroom.” Draco straight-faced. Y/N snorted.

“Let’s go to the shops and find something.” Harry smiled.

“Why? Why did I split up and go with you?” Y/N sighed, standing behind George who was distracted by some small robotic trinket. Y/N, a muggle-born, had seen them all the time as a teenager. George clearly had not.

“Because I’m the comic relief of the group. Also, I’m the hot one.” George smirked at her. She rolled her eyes, a small smile on her face she was hoping he wouldn’t see. He did.

“Whatever, help me pick something for this stupid man.”

“So you admit it?”

“What?”

“He’s stupid?”

“I mean, yeah, but I have a muggle doctorate and I’ve studied magical creatures forever. I’d say objectively most people are stupid to me.”

“Even me?”

“Especially you.” He pushed her arm lightly, she pushed back laughing.

“Just get him one of these. They’re cute. He’s simple.” George shrugged, handing the small robot that said “Merry Christmas,” over and over to her. She shrugged, figuring he’s right.

“What about you? What do you want for Christmas?” Y/N asked. She asked to be nice, but she had already gotten him a bunch of Friends merchandise. George had proved to be a real sucker for most muggle things.

“Don’t get me anything. Seriously.” He turned towards her quickly. He had a stern look on his face.

“Why?”

“Because I’m horrible at gift giving, and I always feel in-debted when someone gives me something really good.” He didn’t look at her when he spoke this time, walking towards more muggle items. She raised her eyebrows, noting that she might have to return his Christmas gift. Actually, no. He’s getting a gift. Idiot.

“Here, merry Christmas.” Y/N said to Terry. They sat at the foot of her bed the day before Christmas Eve, giving each other their gifts.

“You open yours first.” He smiled at her, handing her the envelope. She opened it with a shrug. Her heart dropped. In front of her were two passes to a portkey that would take them to New York City. At the bottom of the card that contained the tickets, Terry had written a sweet note, signed with love. Love? Oh Merlin.

“I-I—” She stuttered, not knowing what to say. “Thanks, Terry.” She suddenly felt very bad for her cheap muggle gift. When he opened it, though, he wasn’t disappointed, just amused by the toy.

“Thank you so much.” He grinned at her. “I love you so much.” Her heart dropped further, and she had to keep herself from cringing.

“T-thanks.”

“Oh no. You said THANKS? To a confession of love?” George asked, all of the guys holding back laughs as she sat on the couch with her head in her hands.

“What was I supposed to do? Lie?” Her words were muffled by her hands.

“Well, no, but thanks?” Harry chortled out. Draco was bent over, almost on the ground from laughter. Neville was flushed red from secondhand embarrassment.

“What do I do? Break up with him? I’m not ready for any of this.” Y/N felt nauseous.

“I mean, weren’t you just kind of using him anyway?” George lectured.

“Why do you guys keep saying that?”

“You guys?”

“You fucking Weasley’s, your brother said that too.” She rolled her eyes, storming into her room. She hated living with men. They were never helpful but always thought they were.

The next day, George opened her bedroom door without knocking. She glared at him.

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s fine, I overreacted. I’m just annoyed at the situation.”

“Well, we’re leaving soon, so get ready.” He offered, ducking back out of her room. Y/N put on black tights and a little black dress. She grabbed a red coat after putting on fake eyelashes. She grabbed her purse, and opened her door while slipping on her heels. Stumbling into the hall, she once again was faced with several men staring at her.

“Why do you guys do this every time I wear a dress?”

“You’re pretty.” Neville smiled, making Y/N almost tear up. They always did this, stare at her, but they almost never complimented her.

“Yeah, plus we only ever see you in sweatpants. So maybe we would stare less if you dressed less like a goblin every day.” Draco said, ruining the moment and heading towards the door.

“I don’t think you look like a goblin.” George whispered to her as they walked out of the loft. She smiled softly up at him.

Upon arriving at the party, Draco flocked towards his work wife. Harry headed towards Ginny, ready to give her the gift he got her. He was only slightly disappointed to find that she had brought a date to the party.

“Here, Ginny.” He gave her the small box when her new boyfriend (boy toy, hopefully) walked away to get her a drink.

“Harry, you didn’t have to get me anything.” She said guiltily, not having gotten him anything. She opened it slowly as he shrugged in response. It was a small bottle. “What is it?” Her eyebrows scrunched. Harry laughed.

“It’s perfume. I’m not telling you that you stink, before you say that.” Ginny smiled, glad to know Harry knew her so well. “It’s a bunch of scents that remind me of you.” He shrugged, not wanting to admit that he had Draco make amortentia to see what she smelled like.

“Oh Merlin, if I smell like this I’m so sorry.” She coughed upon smelling it, making Harry laugh.

“Yeah, it’s a little all over the place. But it’s the thought, I guess?” She grinned at him, nodding.

Meanwhile George and Neville followed Y/N over to Terry. After a short, awkward conversation, Y/N excused herself to the bathroom. Neville walked away to find Luna. George stayed with Terry.

“So, quite a present you got her.” George said awkwardly, drinking from a plastic cup.

“Oh yeah, I think she really liked it.”

“Eh.”

“What? Did she tell you she didn’t like it?”

“I think it was just a lot really soon, buddy.”

“Oh no, do you think I should’ve toned it down?”

“Probably, Terry. You spent a small fortune and told her you loved her after like three weeks.”

“Oh no, what are you saying? Did she say she doesn’t love me? I was so stressed after she didn’t say it back, but I just assumed she was nervous.”

“I— you know I don’t actually think it’s my place to tell you that, Terry.”

Simultaneously, Y/N and Ginny convened in the bathroom.

“Did you like the present Harry got you?”

“It doesn’t smell very good, but it was really sweet.”

“Well, yeah, it’s Harry. He’s been in love with you for like, ever.” Y/N rolled her eyes.

“I mean, has he, though?”

“You absolute idiot.”

“Whatever, did you like what Terry got you?”

“I didn’t tell you, yet? He got me plane tickets to the states for him and I and told me he loved me. When I’m out here thinking about my roommate.”

“Oh Merlin, so a bad perfume is definitely the way to go.” Y/N nodded in agreement. “Why are men so difficult?” Ginny added.

“It’s like they’re so simple that it’s difficult.” Y/N hummed. “We should go back out there.” They fixed their appearances in the mirror slightly before returning to the party. Y/N found George and Terry out on the balcony.

“You really don’t love me?” Terry said, turning around to face her with tears in his eyes.

“What? Where did this come from?” Before anyone could answer, she turned to George who immediately cringed. “What did you do?”

“I just- sometimes I speak without thinking?”

“Terry, don’t listen to this idiot.” George put his hands up in defense and went to leave back to the party, but found the door locked. He went for his wand and realized he had forgotten it at the loft.

“Oh no.” George whispered

“You don’t like me, do you? Did I do too much too soon? Be honest, stop doing that thing where you make me feel better.” Terry looked like a puppy, making the whole situation a lot worse.

“Somebody please help!” George pleaded, banging against the glass.

“I-Terry. Yes, okay? You scared me. It was a lot really soon. I just got out of a relationship, and I really wanted to take it slow.” Y/N confessed.

“I’m stuck out here! This is so awkward, please help!” George kept banging on the door.

“I— what if I can’t do that?” Terry asked.

“LET ME OUT!!!” George shouted.

“You can’t take it slow?” Y/N scrunched her brow.

“Oh Merlin.” George sat on the ground against the door.

“Isn’t it obvious? If I already love you and you can’t say it back, maybe we shouldn’t be together.” Although Terry’s words kind of hurt, Y/N felt somewhat relieved. “I’ll see you at work, alright?” Terry approached the door and unlocked it wordlessly with his wand.

“Thanks Terry.” George went to follow behind Terry as he left, but stopped, looking back at Y/N. He sighed, realizing he needed to clean up the mess he had made. He walked back over to her, leaning against the balcony next to her.

“You know, I think maybe this was my fault.” He admitted, looking through the glass doors at the party.

“You think, George?” She snapped.

“Well, didn’t you want to break up with him anyway?”

“Yeah, I did, but I wanted to do it on my own terms.” She puffed a breath of air out of her lips.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to completely ruin your relationship. I was trying to help him tone it down.”

“Well, thanks I guess.” She pushed off of the balcony, heading back into the party to find Neville and Luna.

“Well, fuck.” George sighed.

The group, Ginny included, left the party at three in the morning. Walking through town, George attempted to rush his sister and Harry.

“We’ve got to get to the burrow like, three hours ago.”

“Who cares? Mum and dad are asleep. They won’t know we were late.”

“Because I still have to wrap all my gifts, Gin.” George sighed. Y/N was behind the group, attempting to peel her shoes off despite the snow. Harry and Ginny started talking, and George looked around for his best friend. Finding Y/N at the back of the group, he slowed his pace until he was walking with her. He looked at her shoeless feet, walking in only stockings in the deep snow. He sighed.

“Stop.” Y/N looked up at him, his voice startling her. “All of you, stop. We’ve gotta go somewhere.”

“I thought you needed to get home to wrap your gifts.”

“We’ll just be late. It’s fine.” George shrugged, he faced Y/N suddenly. “Jump on my back, alright?” He leaned down in front of her, offering a piggy-back ride. Y/N smiled a little and climbed up on his back. The group walked to Candy Cane Lane. Upon arriving, the magic-users were disappointed. The lights were all off.

“HEY!” George started shouting.

“Oh my god, George it’s not that important, it’s okay.” Y/N whispered into his ear. Goosebumps raised on his neck upon feeling her breath so close to him.

“It is important! It’s Christmas! COME ON! YOU ALL PUT SO MUCH EFFORT INTO THESE STUPID LIGHTS! TURN THEM ON!” He shouted. Ginny grinned.

“YEAH! TURN THEM ON!” Ginny shouted

“TURN THEM ON!!” Harry grinned.

“WAKE UP!!!” George added.

“TURN THEM ON!!” Neville shouted, although much more softly than the rest.

Suddenly, one at a time, each house’s lights turned on. Draco’s wand was lifted, turning on each house's Christmas lights.

“You all are so dumb. We are fortunate enough to have magic, there was a whole war. Remember?” Draco rolled his eyes.

Y/N grinned, feeling her heart swell upon seeing the bright Christmas lights. “Thanks, Georgie.” She whispered, nestling her cheek against his neck. This time his heart swelled.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.” He said, squeezing her thighs as he held her up off the ground.

“Merry Christmas, Georgie.” Y/N pressed a soft kiss against his cheek.

Taglist: @yllwtaxi @ememseay @droppingthegloves @wassup-peoples @dejayoon @astoriaplease @postsbyjenipeo @edmunds-torch @ummmlana @kennreid @charming-fan-girl @expelliarmusmyass @boxofbadaddiction @pillowjj @losers-club6 @concepcion @gaysludge @melizabethhack @n-dg-wm @when-thedarkness-comes @sarcasticallywitty15 @kinkycalamari @draco-and-tom @rangotangomango

Permanent taglist: @amourtentiaa

A/N: if anyone wants to be added please just comment or message me and ask! I’m also working on submissions and asks if anyone wants a one shot or something <3 -mj

118 notes · View notes

a-sirens-melody · 3 years

Text

Darkwing Duck’s Greatest Enemy: Type 1 Diabetes (And Definitely Not Self Loathing)

Quick author's note: Launchpad switches between he/they throughout the fic, just so no one gets confused! If you have any questions abt diabetes, feel free to ask me. With that said, enjoy!

***

So far, tonight has gone really well.

It's date night, and this time they're spending it eating takeout from Hamburger Hippo and watching Darkwing Duck at Launchpad's place. Wrappers lay on the floor, ignored in favor of watching Darkwing kick Megavolt’s ass on screen.

Drake is currently leaning into Launchpad's side on the couch, his partner’s arm wrapped around his waist. It all feels so cozy and domestic that he never wants it to end.

And then, because Drake must have seriously pissed off some powerful being in a past life, it happens.

Megavolt’s face becomes blurry, and it's a little harder to focus on the TV. A quick look around the room tells him that, actually, it's hard to focus on anything right now. He knows what this means; he's gotten better at picking up on the signs after twenty-eight years of living with a half-functioning pancreas.

His blood sugar’s starting to drop.

He tries to close his eyes and listen instead, but the shake of his hands quickly corrects him. He is dropping and he needs to find something to eat. Even though he just ate, like, an hour ago.

Dammit.

“Drake?”

He opens his eyes and notices that the episode is paused. He hadn't even realized, he was so caught up in his symptoms. The second thing he notices is Launchpad looking right at him.

He guesses that they felt his shaking because there's concern in their eyes now. A brief wave of guilt sweeps over him and he almost misses their question. “Is your blood sugar low?”

He finds it's a little hard to form words right now (and that scares him, it always does), so he nods his head slightly and hums.

“I'm gonna go get you a juice box.”

The arm wrapped around him vanishes as LP gets up. He helps him lay down on the couch, head pillowed on the armrest. He's still cold without his boyfriend, though, so Drake can't help the small whine that escapes him. God, he sounds pathetic.

Launchpad's eyes soften and they lean down to kiss his forehead. “I'll be right back, okay?”

A little embarrassed, Drake nods and watches the other duck head to his fridge. He closes his eyes again and almost sighs in relief as he's met with darkness. You can't lose your focus if there's nothing to focus on in the first place.

Did that even make sense? Whatever. His brain’s not working properly right now.

The sounds of his partner rummaging through the shelves fill the air. Drake is reminded of earlier when things felt so domestic between them. It's only been a couple of months since they started dating, but Launchpad already feels like the home he never had.

Drake doesn't know how he got so lucky; sometimes it all feels like a dream.

Launchpad leaving is his worst nightmare. He knows he's being a little dramatic, but his anxiety gets the better of him sometimes. He's too much, too expensive, too-

“Found it!” Footsteps pull Drake out of his thoughts and he cracks his eyes open. Launchpad already tore off the wrapping on the plastic straw and stuck it in the box. He holds it out now and places it near Drake's beak. “Drink this, okay?”

He moves the straw into his mouth with a hum and starts sucking the juice down, only stunned for a second at the chill. Fruit punch, his mind distantly informs him. It's his favorite flavor, but he's too focused on getting it into his system to really appreciate it right now.

When the juice box is thoroughly drained, he gives his boyfriend a small smile. He feels like he can talk without sounding like he's drunk now, so he says, “thanks, LP.”

“Anytime,” is the warm reply he receives. If Drake was of sound mind, he would kiss Launchpad breathless and maybe, maybe, utter those three little words that have grown harder to ignore as of late.

I love you.

The words are barely on the tip of his tongue even now. Yikes, his filter's pretty weak already. He tries to stuff the words down by chewing on the straw. Struggling with one of the disadvantages of diabetes is not his ideal confession scenario. Besides, it's way too soon to say that. Right? Right.

“Didn't think you kept juice boxes in your fridge,” he says instead. Not only is he trying to distract himself from his low brain feelings, he's genuinely curious. He doesn't recall seeing any juice boxes in LP’s fridge the last time he was here, and their favorite flavor is apple.

“Nah. Not for myself, at least.” They smile fondly at him. “I remembered that it's your favorite flavor, though, and I wanted to have something for whenever you went low over here.”

Wait.

Launchpad bought those for him? Specifically for him? And remembered his favorite flavor from a conversation they had three months ago when they asked Drake what he usually ate when his blood sugar went low?

That's...

“That's really sweet of you, LP. Thanks.” He says, because he's not really sure what to say. It's such a small act of kindness, something he's not used to, and he doesn't know how to deal with the sudden warmth in his chest.

He's too low for this. Feeling more intense emotions is a very frequent symptom of his when he's low, that's what this is. Yeah. Definitely.

His boyfriend's smile turns shy. “You don't have to thank me. Whatever helps you the most. Speaking of which, do you want me to bring your kit over here? I mean, obviously you feel low, but. Better to have an exact number, right?” Launchpad rambles, hand reaching to brush through the hair at the back of his neck.

That's a good point, actually. He has to be in the 40’s if he's feeling this bad. “Yes, please.”

Launchpad reaches to the side of his couch where Drake's bag is. Inside is his blood sugar kit (complete with a pricker, replaceable barrels, meter, test strips, insulin, and syringes), various small snacks in case he goes low when he's out, and a glucagon. He really hopes that last item is not going to be needed tonight.

He probably shouldn't have dropped the bag there, but he wanted to start their date. Can you really blame him?

The kit is found and placed onto the couch. Drake starts to reach for it, but suddenly there's a hand covering his.

“Can I check you, please?” He looks up and finds Launchpad staring at him. “I don't- if you don't want me to touch your stuff, I get it, but. You feel bad. So will you let me do it?”

You...want to help me? You don't want me to do this on my own?

“Sure. Just ask if you dunno what goes where, okay?” Drake says, thankful that his voice is somewhat steadier than his hands.

His partner nods and gets to work. They asked once how everything in the kit worked so Drake laid it all out and taught him. It felt nice having someone who wanted to listen to him talk about diabetes stuff.

He hears the test strip bottle close with a pop and the pricker calibrate with a ca-click. Just as Launchpad asks, he holds out a finger and lets his mind drift.

It's really not something he's used to, having someone around that he trusts will take care of him. For as long as he can remember, Drake could only rely on himself to get through whatever diabetic crisis he faced.

He was eight when he was diagnosed. At first, his parents did most of the hard work. He picked up on checking his blood sugar pretty quickly, but they would manage all his carb ratios and injections.

Then, they just sort of…stopped. Like they had only done it for him in the first place because he was too young to fully understand. By the time he was thirteen, he did pretty much everything on his own. So much so that more often than not on the tri-monthly visits to his endocrinologist, the car ride would be spent drilling his parents on what the past three months had been like.

Not that they ever told him they didn't care or want to care to his face. No, Drake had just picked up on it. But the night he overheard them talking about medical expenses was a particularly rude awakening.

He couldn't sleep for some reason and decided to watch some Darkwing Duck. He barely made it out of his bedroom when he heard voices.

“Why's everything gotta be so damn expensive!?”

Ah. His dad was looking at bills. So much for a DW marathon in peace and quiet. Drake had one foot back in his bedroom when he heard his mother reply.

“It doesn't really help that our current bank account looks like that, either…”

Forget going back to bed, his curiosity was peaked. He stayed still, straining to hear.

He wished he hadn't at what he heard next.

“Yeah, well, having a defective kid ain't cheap. Why couldn't you have had a normal one?”

To this day, he still remembers how his heart sank to his stomach.

Defective.

Is that why they stopped helping? Why, at age sixteen, it was unspoken knowledge that Drake managed everything on his own? They didn't see a literal child in need, they saw a column of dollar signs. A black hole that sucked up all their cash and never gave it back.

His mom stayed quiet, and that hurt even more. She didn't care, either. Neither one of them did.

They were both selfish assholes that only cared about the alcohol they could've had stocked in their kitchen.

He cried himself to sleep that night, mourning the days when he could still trust his parents to take care of him and wishing he didn't have to live like this. If no one wanted to help him, he’d suck it up on his own. No one wanted to take care of him? Fine. Drake Mallard didn't need anyone else. He was better off on his own.

Those horrible feelings crash over him like a tidal wave now, twenty years later, and he doesn't know why they're here but he's overwhelmed by it all.

Why can't he just have a normal body? Why does his condition have to be so expensive and annoying and miserable sometimes? Why does he have to be so dependent on people when he tells himself that he’s better off working alone, when no one in his life has loved him enough to care anyway?

There's a price tag on his head (not just physical, because diabetes is a greedy little bitch), and it's only a matter of time until Launchpad figures this out. He won't want to stay up late to keep checking, to keep buying syringes or insulin or tests strips. He won't stay forever, and it's all Drake's fault, for getting so attached and having a broken, shitty body.

“Drake? Did I do something wrong?”

He blinks. There are tears in his eyes, a few of which have spilled down his cheeks.

“Uh,” his voice cracks. He wipes away the tears with his other hand. “No. N-no, you didn't do anything wrong. What were you doing?”

Launchpad cocks his head to the side and squints in concern. He knows there's more to Drake's answer, but he doesn't push yet. “I pricked your finger and put the blood in. You didn't even flinch, but I thought that was ‘cause you're used to this. Was there another reason?”

“I'm sorry.” And before Launchpad can start to ask for what? with his mouth already open, Drake rushes to say, “I'm sorry that out of all the people you could date, you got stuck with a chronically ill mess like me. You deserve a normal partner, and god you have no idea how badly I wish I was, but I'm not. I'll always be a burden and I know you won't want to stick around to deal with all the shit that comes with diabetes.

“Not that I don't want you to stay, please don't think that, but…” More tears fall and he brushes them aside, accidentally smearing blood on his feathers. “I’m not used to someone wanting to take care of me, and I don't want it to stop.”

He doesn't take his eyes off of Launchpad as he cries. If this were a cartoon, he would laugh at how quickly their expression changes. Confusion, concern, and realization flash across their face before their eyes soften again in concern.

“Baby,” they say, reaching out to cradle Drake's face. They gently wipe away the blood with their thumb, and Drake feels weak. Loving touches were something he was never given as a child, and it's taken some getting used to. It burns, unfamiliar and wonderful, every time Launchpad touches him. All he can do in this moment is lean into it and shut his eyes.

“Look at me, please?” He groans internally as he opens his eyes. Later, when his blood sugar isn't so low and he can properly think, he’ll recall the look on his boyfriend's face as determined. “I love you, so much. You're not a burden, and you never will be. Being with you is a new experience, sure, but it's a good one. It's not your fault your body's like this, and it doesn't make you any less amazing.

“Heck, if anything, it makes you even more so. You have to do more to stay healthy than most people, and you're really good at it! St. Canard is a better place with Darkwing Duck and Drake Mallard.” Launchpad leans in to kiss his forehead. “They were wrong, you're not unlovable.”

He's so gentle, so sweet, and it's all too much for Drake to wrap his mind around. Never mind the low, he's just heard what he's secretly always wanted to. He is good. He is loved. He...needs to know what his blood sugar actually was before he cries an entire ocean. One more thing, though.

“Uh,” seems like a good place to start as he scrambles to pick up the pieces of himself. He takes a shaky breath. “Thank you. Sorry I dumped all of that onto you, I don't know where it came from tonight, but. Thanks. I really needed that.”

LP still looks a little sad and it makes his heart hurt, but he bites down on his beak to avoid apologizing again. “No problem. Sometimes it just comes out of nowhere.” He strokes his cheek some more, and Drake sighs.

“This is nice and all, but,” his eyes dart to the meter still sitting in front of him. They got distracted for too long and now the little screen is dark. “Did you catch the number that showed up?”

“Buh?” Launchpad's eyes widen as he remembers what they were doing before. “Oh, dang it! Sorry! Do I need to do it again, or-”

Eh, they probably should, but Drake doesn't want to. It hasn't been too long anyways, maybe five minutes? He’ll be fine. “No, you're good, just press the button with the arrows. All the pricks get stored so you can look at them later.”

Any distress on their face is quickly replaced by a beaming smile. “Neat!” They do as Drake asked, and a number pops up: 46.

“Lovely,” Drake groans. “And I just ate. Maybe I just took too much insulin. Or am I getting sick? If I can't keep anything down in the next hour, I swear-”

LP snapping his fingers in his face pulls him away from his rambling. “Hello? Earth to Drake Mallard. I dunno what made you low, but we gotta fix it first. Would more juice work?”

Oh yeah. Hm, more juice or something else? Even though he feels exhausted, going to sleep is a bad idea. He's gotta stay up until he's back in range, so…

“Actually, do you have any Pep?” Launchpad tilts his head and furrows his brow as Drake explains. “Normally I wouldn't ask, but I think something with that much sugar would really help. Plus, the caffeine will keep me awake.”

They look less confused now, but their head remains tilted slightly. “There's not that much caffeine in Pep, though.”

“You forget I don't drink the regular Peps nearly as often as you do, LP.” The last time he actually had one was...ten years ago? They work great for treating a low quickly and that's the only time he ever cares to drink them. It's not worth the extra insulin or highs to try to look normal.

“Oh yeah! So you're not used to the sugar.” He nods. “Okay, be right back.” Launchpad takes about twenty seconds to get a Pep and come back to Drake. The tab's already open. “Uh, do you need to drink the whole thing right now?”

He really shouldn't, the juice is probably still processing. Still, it's very tempting to chug the entire thing just to put more sugar in his body. But he wants his blood sugar to be normal, not sky high. “No, I'll probably drink half of it right now. Thank you.” He takes the Pep and sips, blinking at the sheer amount of sugar flooding his taste buds.

The fact that most people drink enough of this stuff to where they hardly notice it boggles his mind. Not that the diet stuff is really healthier, but it's definitely a different taste.

Guess he's pulling a graveyard shift tonight. But at least he's with Launchpad.

(That's the other thing about drinking regular sodas; he gets really hyper. Last time, he couldn't fall asleep until exactly two am. Being tired but unable to sleep is the absolute worst feeling, and you can't change Drake's mind.)

Now that he can think a little more clearly, he realizes something.

“I can't drive like this,” he says. Driving with a low blood sugar is really dangerous, and not his usual kind. It's the kind of dangerous that could get himself, or someone else, or even both, killed. “And I'm definitely not walking home anytime soon, so. Guess our date’s been extended?”

Launchpad blinks at him, then claps his hands together and grins. “You're staying overnight! I mean, I wish it was under better circumstances, obviously, but. Yay!” He rocks on his heels before catching himself and looking away, a faint blush appearing on his face. “Anyways, is there anything else you need?”

Drake's about to reply not right now, thank you, but then he realizes something that's actually pretty important.

“Wait, since I'm staying here tonight, could I use your bathroom really quick? I, uh, need to take my binder off,” he admits. He’d forgotten it was even there until he remembered wait, you need to take that off before you go to sleep. He put it on about a half hour after he woke up, which was at noon, and it's midnight now so...oops. It's past time to take it off.

His boyfriend nods. “Yeah, no worries! Do what you gotta do. Wait.” His brow furrows. “You need me to help you over there?”

“I,” he falters. “Wouldn't mind it if you did.” The sugar's kicking in now, but he still doesn't trust himself. Given how clumsy he is? Better safe than sorry.

Launchpad holds his arms as he walks to the bathroom. He closes the door, Launchpad sitting in front of it just in case, and turns to the mirror. His shirt hits the floor, soon followed by his binder. A sigh of relief fills the air as he folds it. He hadn't realized how long he'd been wearing it. Tomorrow will have to be a skip day just to stay on the safe side.

(Hormones aren't a concern; he's not on them right now and is perfectly fine with that. The cost of that and insulin would be hard to juggle, anyways.)

He opens the door to find Launchpad staring at him, and he smiles shyly. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Launchpad smiles back, and holds out his hand. Drake takes it and pulls his boyfriend to his feet. They walk back to the couch together. “So, what are we doing? You can't go to sleep until your blood sugar's back up and we were in the middle of an episode of Darkwing Duck.”

“I like the way you think,” Drake teases. “So long as you check every now and then to make sure I haven't fallen asleep yet.” He sits down in his original spot.

“Whatever you need,” they reply, and sit down next to him. They wrap their around his waist and Drake leans into their side as he tries to find the remote. It occurs to him just then that there's still something he hasn't said yet. Something bigger than “thank you.”

He taps LP on the shoulder. They turn to look at him and oh no, he's already flustered. “I just. You said you, uh, loved me earlier and I wanted to say that, that I love you too.” His face is burning, and he got quieter at the end, but at least it’s out in the open now.

Launchpad’s eyes soften and he tilts his head close enough to kiss Drake. It's a quick peck, but sweet nonetheless. When he pulls away, he's smiling. “You're wonderful, you know that?”

Drake only blushes more and buries his face in Launchpad's chest. He can feel Launchpad chuckle and oh. Oh, that's really nice. He likes that a lot. He would stay right here, but the sounds of the Darkwing Duck episode are a siren song that never fails to lure him in.

They stay there, watching episode after episode and Launchpad checking in every so often. By the time Drake's blood sugar has gone back to normal, he stops watching and starts really thinking about the events of the night.

He doesn't have to do this on his own anymore. Someone actually wants to take care of him now.

He is loved. Really, truly loved. And he’ll never let Launchpad go.

#IT WORKS ON MOBILE #thank you god #anyways tada!!#ducktales #darkwing duck #drakepad #drake mallard #launchpad mcquack #my writing #drake has t1d the fic basically #and really bad parents but that's not new

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callboxkat · 3 years

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Second Chances: Slumber Party

Author’s note: It’s been a while, but guess who finally has some free time to write? I hope you enjoy! :)

Summary: Roman goes on a quest for a glass of water in the middle of the night, and finds Patton sleeping on the sofa.

Warnings: Insecurity, nightmares/intrusive thoughts, past homelessness, food mentions, white lies

Word count: 2588

Second Chances Masterpost!

Writing Masterpost!

...

Roman stretched and let out a big yawn as he walked down the hall to his room.

Today at the café had been difficult, to say the least, and he was tired, even though he’d gotten home hours ago. He hadn’t even been meant to go in today, but there had been a bit of an incident. The fridge had gone out while it was just Virgil and Thomas working, and Roman had been called in as back up. Since it couldn’t be fixed right away, they’d decided to sell everything refrigerated at a sharp discount, and once word got out, the crowd in the shop quickly became alarming. Thomas had eventually needed to tap out and go home, apparently worn out by all the chaos. So then Roman and Virgil had been left to try to sell as much of their stuff as possible before it could no longer be sold. The throng of customers was eager for cheap goodies, although some of them didn’t seem to understand why the unrefrigerated menu items that they weren’t racing against the clock to sell were still full price. Which, yeah, Roman could understand that it was strange for a cappuccino to be cheaper than an americano. But the coffee and water would have still been usable at the end of the day

He passed the other two bedrooms as he shuffled along, remembering the events of the day. From Val’s, he could hear quiet music—he’d noticed she liked to put on classic rock before she went to sleep—while from Logan’s and Patton’s, he could hear the sound of dresser drawers opening and shutting. They were probably still getting ready for bed.

Roman opened the door to his room and stepped inside, not bothering to turn on the light. He put away his toothbrush and toothpaste, toed off his socks, and crawled into bed. He reached to set an alarm, only to be struck with the happy realization that he didn’t need to, since the café would be closed the next day due to the refrigerator incident.

Smiling at the thought of getting to sleep in, Roman snuggled down into the bed and closed his eyes.

…

Roman rolled over and stretched, opening his eyes.

2:24, read the alarm clock.

He still had plenty of time to sleep and still get up at a socially acceptable time, but… Roman licked his lips and frowned. His mouth was a little dry.

Reluctant to leave the soft bed, but also unable to ignore his parched mouth now that he’d foolishly let himself become aware of it, Roman let out a quiet moan of complaint and sat up, pushing the blanket to the side. He got up, grabbed his socks, and padded to the door, hopping a little to pull them on as he went.

He opened the door quietly and left it slightly ajar for when he returned. The fewer noises he made, the better, in his opinion. Roman tended to be a heavy sleeper, but he knew not everyone in the house was, and he didn’t want to disturb them.

He crept down the hall and then the stairs, heading into the kitchen without turning the lights on, since there was still enough light to see. He opened a cabinet for a glass and then filled it at the sink, wincing at how loud the water seemed in the quiet of night, and doing his best to minimize the noise. He took a couple of sips of the water, then refilled what he’d drunk of the glass, and turned to go back to bed.

As he walked through the living room, he heard a quiet “mmph?” and then a shape on the couch sat up.

Roman jumped slightly in surprise, then slowed to a halt, squinting in bewilderment. “Pat?”

Patton turned around and looked at him, blinking drowsily, his hair rumpled in a bed head. “Oh… hi, Roman,” he said, sounding tired. “What’re you doing down here?”

Was he sleeping on the sofa? Roman frowned, seeing the pillows and blankets that Patton must have brought down from his and Logan’s room.

Roman held up the glass so Patton could see. “I got thirsty,” he explained.

“Oh,” said Patton. “I guess that was the sink, I heard, then.”

They looked at each other for a moment.

“Did something happen?” Roman asked hesitantly. “I mean, it’s none of my business, but… did you and Logan have a fight?”

“Huh?” Patton shook his head. “No, no, me and Lo are fine. I just….” He didn’t seem to know what to say.

Roman shifted. “Late movie night?” he offered, to give Patton an out.

Patton didn’t take it. The poor guy hated to lie. “No,” he said. He sat up a little straighter. “Uh, Logan and I just decided this would be better for tonight. We didn’t fight, it’s just… it’s complicated.”

Roman couldn’t think of many reasons why Patton would be sleeping on the sofa, if they hadn’t fought. Patton had definitely gone to bed in his and Logan’s room, so it wasn’t as if he’d just decided not to go upstairs. Roman was also pretty sure neither of them snored, so that didn’t explain it either.

Patton was looking a little flustered. “Please don’t—Logan didn’t do anything. It’s nobody’s fault, he just….”

He thought Roman would be mad at Logan, he realized.

Roman held up a hand. “Hey, like I said, it’s none of my business,” he said, carefully choosing a light tone. “I won’t pry. But, Pat… you don’t have to be on the couch. There’s the bed upstairs.”

Patton furrowed his eyebrows slightly.

“You could have woken me up,” Roman clarified. “I don’t mind.”

“What? No, Roman, that’s your room. I’m not going to steal it from you.”

Right, Roman thought. “It was your room first,” he shrugged, anyway.

It was dark, but he was pretty sure that was a fondly exasperated expression on Patton’s face. “It’s your room,” he repeated firmly.

Roman shifted again. “Okay, well… I still don’t want to make you stay on the couch.”

“You’re not making me,” Patton said, shaking his head. “I’m fine here. You should just go back to bed, okay? Don’t worry about me.”

Roman took a hesitant step towards the stairs, but continued to hover. “…I really don’t feel comfortable taking a bed while you’re on the couch,” he admitted. He honestly didn’t think he’d be able to sleep, knowing that.

Patton, who had started to lie back down, paused, and looked over at Roman, who rubbed one of his arms.

“Please take the bed?”

Patton took him in for a long moment, sat up again, and said, “Well, I don’t really feel comfortable taking the bed while you’re on the couch, either, kiddo.”

Roman sighed, looking down at his water glass. A few seconds ticked by. He took an awkward sip of water.

“…It’s a decent-sized bed in there,” Patton said finally. “I guess we could share, if you’re okay with that.”

“Wouldn’t Logan be upset?”

Patton shook his head. “No, he won’t care. It’s just a bed. And he knows I love him.”

Roman nodded slowly. “Okay, then.”

He and Patton scooped up the pillows and blankets and headed up to Roman’s room, both doing their best to be quiet on the stairs and in the hall. While Val was actually the lighter sleeper, Roman couldn’t help but notice that Patton tried even harder to be quiet when they passed Logan’s room.

“Any preference on which side I take?” Patton asked, once Roman had closed the bedroom door.

“Um… right side, maybe?” Roman suggested, since he’d been sleeping on the left side before going on his quest. He set down his glass of water on the nightstand. “But either’s fine.”

Patton nodded and put down his pillows and blankets there, arranging them before he got into the bed. Roman hesitated before also lying down.

“I’m sorry about this,” Patton said softly once they were both situated, turning so he was facing Roman.

“It’s okay,” Roman replied. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“Logan tried to take the couch, too,” Patton admitted with a little smile, his eyes already closed. He yawned. “He felt really bad. But I fought him off.”

“I knew you could take that little nerd.”

Patton’s lips twitched as he tried not to laugh. “He’s not a nerd.”

“I mean it in a good way. But also… have you met him?”

“I sure hope so, he’s my boyfriend.”

Roman laughed quietly. “Fair enough.” A beat passed. “Thanks again for giving me a ride to the café today, by the way. I think Virgil would have lost it if they’d had to wait for me to walk there. And thanks for the ride back, too. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Oh, you’re welcome. It was no bother. And Virgil seems nice.”

Roman smirked. “They can be, when they want to be.”

Patton cracked open an eyelid, smiling a little at him.

“So… want me to braid your hair?” Roman whispered. “Since we’re having a slumber party.”

Patton giggled quietly. “I would let you if it was long enough.”

“Guess you’ll have to grow it out, then. You can join the man bun trend.”

Patton sounded amused, even as sleepiness bled into his voice. “Oh, gosh, can you imagine?”

“Or Viking braids,” Roman suggested. “You could put beads in them and everything. Really go all out.”

“I don’t know if that’s really my style.”

“Maybe not.”

Patton yawned. “We could paint each other’s nails. That’s a slumber party thing.”

“I used to paint my nails in high school,” Roman shared. His nails looked rather rough, now, though. It had been a while since he even held a nail file.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Gold, usually.”

Patton’s eyes were closed again. “I think Val has some that color. She’d probably let you use it. I don’t think she wears it much.”

“Hm.” Roman would think about it.

They lay there for a few moments. Roman adjusted himself so he was lying more on his stomach than his side, and let out a small sigh.

“G’night,” Patton mumbled sleepily.

“Good night.”

When Roman woke in the morning, Patton was already gone, along with his pillows and blankets. Roman suspected his own blanket had been pulled up a little higher. There was a note on the bedside table that just read, Thanks for the slumber party -P.

Roman glanced at the clock, and then climbed out of bed himself. He got showered and dressed, and then went downstairs.

He’d expected to have the house to himself for most of the day, since Val and Logan had work and Patton had plans, so he was surprised to see Logan at the kitchen table, a half full mug of tea in front of him.

Logan looked up as Roman approached, and for a second he froze, like a deer in headlights.

Roman smiled easily at the other man. “Hey, Logan,” he said.

Logan blinked, and there was a soft, nearly inaudible whir. Roman glanced down to see that Logan was quietly spinning a black ring on his right hand. He’d seen the other man wearing the ring, occasionally, but usually he left it alone.

“Good morning,” Logan said, looking less panicked, but still unsure.

Roman walked over to fridge and grabbed an orange. He returned to the table and started peeling it. “Got plans for today?” he asked. “I thought you had work.”

“I did,” Logan said. He stopped spinning his ring and took a drink of his tea. “I decided to stay home, today. I’m afraid I didn’t sleep well.”

“Oh. That sucks.”

Logan nodded vaguely.

Roman popped one of the orange slices in his mouth. He liked to eat fruit slowly, to make it last longer, so he could really appreciate it. It was a habit he’d started when he was homeless, but he kept it now, seeing no reason to change it.

Logan cleared his throat, sitting up a little straighter. He didn’t quite look at Roman as he said, “Patton told me you allowed him to stay in your room last night.”

Roman paused, halfway through separating another orange slice. “I just thought it’d be more comfortable than the sofa.”

“Thank you for that.”

Roman shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s not a big deal,” he said. “I’ve stayed in shelters that were way more crowded, and Patton doesn’t snore or try to steal my things. We just made some jokes about having a slumber party.”

“…I’m not sure what explanation he offered you,” Logan said hesitantly.

Roman shrugged. “He didn’t really say. I thought maybe he fell asleep watching The Office or something, and didn’t want to wake you to go to bed. I used to do stuff like that. My mamá would get so annoyed if she found me. She’d tell me I was gonna get scoliosis and make me go to bed.” Roman did not actually believe that; but he was also pretty sure that whatever the real reason Patton had been sleeping on the sofa was not his business, if Logan didn’t want to share it.

Logan spun his ring twice, then stopped.

“I appreciate your help,” he said. “It is reassuring, to know Patton wasn’t too inconvenienced.”

“It’s no problem. I’m always down for a slumber party.”

It was clear that Logan didn’t want to say more on the subject, and Roman certainly wasn’t going to push him, but Logan cleared his throat anyway. “I suppose I owe you some explanation.”

“Not if you don’t want to. I don’t think you owe me anything,” Roman said. He popped another orange slice in his mouth.

Logan glanced at him. He raised the mug of tea to his lips, then set it down without taking a drink. “Regardless….” He considered his next words, his face reddened lightly. “I am… occasionally prone to certain intrusive thoughts. They are unwanted, and do not reflect my own desires. They are unpleasant every time they occur, but last night’s was… especially unsettling. It… involved Patton becoming injured.”

Roman could read between the lines. “Okay.”

“My apologies if I disturbed you. I became rather upset, and unfortunately did not think to lower my volume. Val came in to check on us. I assume you decided to stay in your room, which… I appreciate.”

“I didn’t hear you, actually,” Roman said. “Guess I was pretty tired, after the coffee shop thing. And I probably stayed up too late.”

Logan looked briefly skeptical, then rather relieved to hear it. “I requested that we sleep separately, for my own anxiety. I had intended to be the one to leave, but Patton can be rather insistent.”

Roman nodded.

“I hope you do not think less of me because of this,” Logan said. “I try not to be swayed so easily by my emotions, but—”

Roman waived a hand, dismissing Logan’s justifications. “It’s fine. It’s okay to be human sometimes, you know.”

Logan tapped his fingers on his mug. A few moments passed.

“So, do you want to hear about the Great Refrigerator Disaster of the Sanders Café?” Roman asked. He’d told a condensed version of the story the night before, at dinner, and Patton had seen the chaos first hand, but Roman hadn’t told Logan all the juicy details yet, which was frankly shameful on his part.

Logan smiled despite himself, and latched onto the change in subject. “That does sound like a story I would enjoy.”

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #ts sides #ts roman #ts logan #ts patton #ts virgil #ts #tss #ts fanfic #ts fic #sanders sides fan fiction #fanfiction #second chances fic #slumber party fic

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agentlemuse · 4 years

Note

soft Eddie prompt?? I need to read something where Eddie is wearing just a huge sweater or something and cuddling up with his favorite boys. Maybe on a rainy day? I need him drowning in warmth and love and happiness cus that’s what he deserves damnit! This is kinda vague? Idk if this counts as a prompt because I’m new to all this but I hope it’s okay! I love your writing ❤️

“Buck, you can’t throw this stuff out.”

“I’m not throwing it out, I’m donating it.”

Eddie looks at the pile of clothes before him, spotting the name brands and wondering for the hundredth time how Buck could afford such nice things on a firefighter’s salary. He knew raising a kid was expensive, but he had a feeling his budget wouldn’t be so generous even if he didn’t.

“You could sell a lot of this stuff,” Eddie points out. He’s all for donating clothing; Eddie’s own closet is full of his fair share of secondhand store finds. He’s not about to spend a fortune on his wardrobe when that money can go to his son.

So yeah, he also knows his way around a resale app. He paid for the U-Haul and gas for the move from Texas to California selling things they no longer needed. It’s not that he’s cheap, but he knows how to stretch a budget and that includes getting the most out of the items he did have. “You could probably make a few hundred bucks selling this stuff and what you don’t sell you can still donate.”

“For old clothes,” Buck questions, looking at his stuff with apprehension. “Honestly, it’s not worth it. It sounds like a lot of work and I’d rather spend my day off any other way.”

“I’ll do it.”

“Why?”

“I enjoy it,” Eddie shrugs, refraining from going into excruciating detail about how sorting and pricing the items soothe him, how he finds haggling over prices exhilarating or how finally reaching a sale releases a shot of dopamine straight through his veins. His hobby might not be cool, but it’s practical and he enjoys it.

“I mean...if you’re sure?”

“Absolutely,” Eddie grins, already sorting his new inventory in his brain.

Buck can only chuckle at Eddie’s expression, still confused but fond nonetheless. “If there is anything you want, feel free to help yourself.”

“Honestly Buck, you’ve got to stop undercutting your profits.”

“Consider it your commission,” Buck offers and Eddie nods his head in agreement. Seems fair.

Eddie gets to work that night, sorting what can be sold versus what is better off being donated or simply trashed. Most of the items are fairly new, left behind as a result of Buck’s bulkier build. Hell, he has a pile of items with the tags still on them.

Still, there are a few older pieces, dragged along from place to place. Eddie looks back over at the cream colored fisherman sweater. It’s heavy, far heavier than could ever be needed in their part of California. Buck probably brought it with him from Pennsylvania, a nostalgic relic that is finally being culled. It’s soft, comfy and it smells like Buck.

Eddie has no intention of keeping any of the items for himself. They might be only a few inches different in height, but where Buck is all leg Eddie is all torso. There aren’t a lot of items that make sense for him, but that sweater…

It’s too big, even now that he has added on muscle. It’s big, but somehow it makes the fit even better. It will never be cold enough for him to justify keeping it. He should sell it. He should donate. He shouldn’t keep it.

He keeps it.

He doesn’t tell Buck. Eddie’s not sure why he would need to tell him or if he would even care, but it feels like something he should keep to himself.

He gives Buck the $380 he made on the other items, rolling his eyes when Buck insists on giving him a commission.

“It’s your money, Buck. It was your stuff. Just..bring over pizza sometime. We’ll call it even.” Buck does, and what he is guessing is $320 worth of legos, books and games for Chris that he just “happened” to find. He wants to call Buck out on it, but Chris is over the moon and he just can’t bring himself to fight him on it.

Buck was going to donate all the clothes anyway. It’s not like he’s really out the money.

They spend the night on the couch laughing, watching old cheesy movies and Buck leaves with a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye. Eddie doesn’t want him to leave, but then again he never does. He pulls out the sweater after Buck has left and puts it on, breathing in the comforting smell of Buck and pretends for a moment that Buck is still here.

He’s a thirty-three year old man and far too old to suddenly develop the need for a security blanket, but here he is. He goes for the sweater after the hard days, during the lonely nights, the times when Buck tries to get himself killed on the job and sometimes just because. It’s starting to smell less like Buck and more like himself, but still he finds comfort in that silly oversized sweater.

So when the rain patters down on a Saturday night he goes for his trusty sweater. It may be fall, but it’s far from chilly. Doesn’t matter. He misses the rolling thunderstorms back in Texas, but there is still something calming about a rainy evening. He grabs a book, settling in for a night on the couch when he hears his front door open.

“Eddie, you decent?”

Eddie can’t help but roll his eyes, marking his spot in the book and placing it on the coffee table. “Decent enough for the likes of you.”

Buck is smiling as he walks in the living room, pausing in place as he looks Eddie over. “Are you wearing my sweater?”

“No,” Eddie states, blaming any red on his cheeks on the warmth of the garment and absolutely nothing else. “I’m wearing my sweater.”

“Pretty sure I remember having something similar,” Buck points out, making himself at home next to Eddie.

“And I’m pretty sure I adopted it when you so cruelly tossed it aside. So, like I said, it’s my sweater.”

Buck chuckles at his lame attempt at humor, eyeing him with an expression he can’t quite place. “It suits you.”

Eddie can’t help but grin at the praise, handing Buck the remote before grabbing his book. Buck makes himself comfortable against him, using him as a giant pillow as he mindlessly flips through the channels. Eddie doesn’t mind the lack of personal space. Maybe, if he’s lucky, the sweater will regain some of Buck’s scent. Maybe, if he’s lucky, he’ll convince Buck to stay.

#buddie #ficlet #soft eddie #this got away from me #I hope you like anon!#sorry it’s not exactly what you asked for #ask away #my stuff

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keelywolfe · 4 years

Text

FIC: The Rose and the Thorn: Chapter 7 (Mafia AU)

Summary: Rus is getting to wake up and face a new day. A shame that staying in bed and hiding sounds like a better option.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Mafia AU, Flower Shop AU, Violence, First Meetings

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Read on AO3

Read it here!

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It felt like he’d hardly slept at all when Blue shook him awake. Rus floundered in the tangled sheets, struggling to sit up as he blinked in confusion at the unfamiliar room. Then everything came back in a rush and Rus very nearly dove back beneath the blankets, the better to hide from his own stupidity. Might have even made it if Blue hadn’t exclaimed in surprise, catching him up in his short, sturdy arms.

“Easy, little brother,” Blue crooned. He petted Rus’s skull, fingers moving in soothing, gentle pats. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“it’s okay,” Rus croaked out and he gave in to the childish urge to lean into his brother’s embrace, taking the comfort he freely offered. “just a little jumpy, i guess.”

Blue held on a few moments longer before easing away, “I should have let you sleep,” he fretted. “after everything that happened, you need your rest, you didn’t even stir when the butler knocked on the door, I should have—”

“bro, i’m fine,” Rus interrupted, “you just startled me.” He proved it by squirming free of the blankets and climbing out of the bed to his feet, and if he was a little wobbly, eh, he caught his balance quickly enough. He was about to escape to the bathroom to shower, a combo guaranteed to put off conversation and let him wake up a little more, when he saw the new addition to their room of a neatly folded stack of clothes on the little coffee table by the sofa. A look at his brother confirmed he was already dressed in a pair of trousers and a fine shirt, the lovely floral pattern shades of blue and yellow to match his starry eye lights.

He looked charmingly handsome and that was not an outfit that had ever been in his brother’s closet.

“that’s a different look for you, bro,” Rus said warily.

“Yes, well.” Blue smoothed a hand down the front of his shirt, fingering the pearl buttons. “We’ve been invited to breakfast with our hosts,” Blue said brightly. “That’s the only reason I wanted to wake you up. They’re expecting us in a half an hour, and I wanted to give you time to get ready.”

Time to get ready? An entire half an hour to prepare himself to see Edge after last night’s catastrophe. Something of his dismay must’ve shown on his face and Blue’s overbright cheer faltered, his expression torn. Probably caught between the worry of insulting their ‘hosts’ and Rus’s state of mind.

Yeah, right now his state of mind was up for reelection. A hysterical laugh tried to bubble out of his throat as Rus backed away, feebly disguised as a cough. “no prob, bro, i’ll be fast in the shower.”

He didn’t give Blue a chance to say anything else, like maybe try to send him back to bed with an offer to make excuses for Rus’s absence. Didn’t he have enough to worry about right now without fretting that his little bro was going to embarrass him in front of their new…what? Business partner? Seemed like a good a title as any and Rus snatched up the pile of clothes without even looking at it and darted into the shower, closing and locking the door behind him.

The bathroom gave him a pause, jarring him from his creeping panic. All gleaming fixtures and shining porcelain tiles, with a row of soaps and gels sitting invitingly on the back of the counter. A peek in one of the drawers revealed plenty of other toiletries, including several unopened toothbrushes. The shower cubical was even better, instead of one shower head, the massive stall was lined with several coming from all angles, ready to hose down whoever dared step inside. The walls were beaded with water, probably from Blue using it and Rus stifled a giggle to think of his rather petite brother using it, trying not to get washed away like a paper boat in a hurricane.

Was there anything in this place that wasn’t turned up to eleven?

Rus set down the stack of clothes on the counter and snagged a toothbrush along with the shower gel that smelled the least offensive. The nightshirt he stripped off and tossed into a handy hamper, he’d sleep bare ass tonight if he had to, rather than wear that piece of failure again. He fiddled with the knobs until he figured out how to get to the hot water, then stepped in, letting the liquid bliss pour down on him and guiltily basking in the seemingly endless fall of hot water that their rickety old water heater couldn’t have come close to.

He probably could’ve stayed an hour without the chill chasing him out, but he’d promised his brother to be quick. So he stripped the plastic off the toothbrush, scrubbing at his pearly whites and using the shower as an impromptu water pick, then switching over to the bath poof and shower gel, determinedly scrubbing every nook and cranny, all the way down to his toe joints. It was just a shame that getting clean didn’t take up nearly as much of his thought process as he needed to keep his mind blank and memories of last night crept in, jabbing gleefully at him.

What had he even been thinking? The stress of everything that happened yesterday must’ve torpedoed his common sense, because seriously, trying to seduce Edge in the hopes it would get them, what, a little security and an extra promise to help, on top of what he’d already done? Trust was a hard-earned commodity, Above or Belowground, but if he stirred a little critical thinking into his thought process, there was proof that Edge wasn’t exactly untrustworthy. Not yet, anyway.

The whole shooting up their shop and Rus getting kidnapped off the street was Edge’s fault, sure, he’d admitted that much, but, honestly, Edge could’ve walked away at anytime already. He’d saved Rus at the shop, sure, but he could’ve let his brother get away with his little threat session without trying to intercede, could’ve let his old buddy Blaze keep Rus and not endangered himself at all getting him out of there.

Edge said he wasn’t a good guy and maybe, okay, probably that was true, but that wasn’t exactly the side he’d been showing Rus, not quite. He’d been trying to clean up the mess he’d accidentally made and here was Rus, trying to barter for a little extra on the side. The more he thought about it, the more humiliating it was; he’d actually tried to…to sell himself to Edge, a guy who could obviously get sex anytime he wanted, just because he’d confessed to having a bit of a fantasy going about him, like Rus wasn’t guilty of the same sort of idle daydream.

A very bad person, he’d said, but he’d still sent Rus away rather than taking what he was offering, and maybe the whys of that weren’t completely clear, but that didn’t seem like something a bad guy would do. It just didn’t.

Which meant that Rus was the asshole for this round and what he wouldn’t give for a damn cigarette right about now. Nicotine cravings were already making him jittery, but his smokes were in his lost bag. That reminder gave him a pang; he was going to miss all those anime pins, he’d been collecting them since before they got to the surface. Kidnapping was one thing, stealing his hard-found collectibles was another level of jerk.

Well, no matter what Edge’s reasons were for turning him down, all Rus could hope was that he had the decency not to bring it up in front of Blue.

Rus shut the water off, snagging a large, fluffy towel to wipe off. His bones were barely dry as he stepped out onto the bathmat, careful not to slip. A concussion on top of everything was all he needed.

He hung the damp towel up next to his brother’s and inspected the clothes in the stack. As suspected, they were new, every item of it down to the undershorts and socks. Not his normal choice of wardrobe; when he wasn’t at the shop Rus normally preferred T-shirts and shorts, and there was a plentiful cheap supply at the local thrift shop. He wasn’t really used to anyone else picking out his underwear and he debated on whether to leave them off before sighing and skimming on the soft cotton shorts. At least it wasn’t a red satin thong or something, he wasn’t sure he could stand sitting in the same room with that Red guy with something like that trying to saw his pelvis in half.

The dark trousers fitted perfectly and so did the soft linen pullover, not the wine color of last night’s borrowed pajamas, but a deep sage green that contrasted nicely with his magic. Everything was exactly the right size and as odd as that was, Rus supposed it was still better than them raiding their house and going through their drawers. But he did wonder glumly how much this might add to their growing tab.

There was a full-length mirror on one wall and Rus looked into it, studying his reflection. He didn’t look like himself, which was fine, because he damn well didn’t feel like himself, either. Probably hadn’t since Edge jumped the counter at the shop and pulled him down to the floor.

His half-hour was about up, there was no putting it off any longer. Blue looked up anxiously when he came out and Rus summoned up his best cheesy grin and struck a pose, “ta-da, how do i look?”

“Very nice,” Blue told him, even as he gestured at Rus to lean down so he could fuss over his collar, smoothing it. “try not to spill anything down the front of it in the first five minutes?”

“do my best, food and gravity don’t always mix well around me.”

He followed his brother to the door where a comfortable pair of house shoes in his size were lined up neatly to the side waiting for him. Not, Rus noted, the kind meant to be worn outside. His own sneakers were nowhere to be seen and yeah, he could take a hint. ‘Stay put’ was the word, for now.

A Dog was standing guard outside the door and Rus was shamefully relieved that it wasn’t the same guy as last night. He led them on another winding path and seriously, did the guy who designed this place go on to find fame and fortune making labyrinths for other Goblin Kings?

The door he led them to opened into a surprisingly airy room, with windowed French doors letting in the morning sunshine. Red was already seated at the head of a table and the cigar in his hand was thankfully unlit. His gold tooth glinted as he grinned, “mornin’, hope ya slept well.”

“We did, thank you,” Blue said. Rus only nodded along with him. He still wasn’t very interested in getting chatty with Mister ‘make it a double’ over there. If Edge really was as bad as he claimed to be, Rus could sure see where he picked it up from.

The table was long, topped in covered trays and platters, and the second Blue and Rus were seated, the lids were whisked away by the Dogs. Rus kinda thought he was getting to his limits of surprise, but it seemed like he still had some stashed away for a special occasion.

The amount of food laid out was staggering; surrounding the crystal goblets of water and orange juice were bowls of prettily cut fruit, a platter of sticky pastries alongside crusty croissants. More plates that held richly browned sausages and crispy bacon, and there was an entire tray pancakes and waffles snuggled next to each other with a steaming pitcher of syrup beside them. Pan-grilled tomatoes, poached eggs nestled into their cups, this was more food than they saw in a week. Every dish held something delectable and Rus wasn’t sure his roiling magic would let him eat a single bite.

Looked like the dial on this place actually went all the way up to twelve.

“Goodness,” Blue said, a little helplessly, “it certainly looks delicious.”

There was an air of something like smugness around Red, as if their obvious surprise pleased him, “eh, wasn’t sure what you liked, so i had ‘em bring in a lil’ of everythin’.”

A little of everything was one way to put it. Normally, a good breakfast in Rus’s opinion was when Blue splurged on the oatmeal with the dinosaur eggs.

Red picked up his fork and gestured at the table. “go ahead, dig in while it’s hot.”

Blue tucked his napkin into his lap first in that exaggerated way he did things that he expected Rus to mimic. “Shouldn’t we wait for your brother?”

“nah,” And Rus wasn’t sure why he was bothering with a napkin when it was clear their host didn’t mind talking around a mouthful of sausage. He at least swallowed before he added, “i shook him outta bed a bit ago, he’ll be down.”

That seemed to be enough to satisfy Blue’s sense of propriety. He began to fill his plate, taking a small portion from each tray. Rus only chose one of the pastries that had a quivering dollop of jam on top so that he had something to pick at, hyperaware of the way Red was watching them.

It made Rus think of a horror movie he’d seen, where a pale man hung around waiting for anyone who dared eat from his banquet and those that did paid the price for it with their lives.

Yeah, whatever, Red was no pale man, no eldritch horror. He was a thug playing dress up to impress them for some damn reason, trying to show off how much better he was. Wasn’t gonna work on Rus, thanks, Blue had twice the manners of this asshole, and when Red’s supposedly well-paid servants were scraping all this into the trash, Blue would still be the one who spent hours making cookies for the neighborhood kids in his rare time off.

Defiantly, Rus took a huge bite of pastry, cheekbones puffing out and Blue didn’t even have a chance to kick him in the knee for his manners when the door was flung open and Edge stalked inside.

“morning, bro,” Red said easily. Edge only gave a surly grunt in return, heading right to the sidebar where a gleaming machine with too many dials and knobs sat. A few twists and clicks, and it started gurgling, filling the air with the gorgeous aroma of coffee and if it weren’t for the awkward ending to how Rus tried to get into Edge’s pants last night, he would have crawled over the table with a cup held out in a modern take on ‘please sir can I have some more’.

Look, he couldn’t be bought with fancy clothes or food, but coffee was on a different playing field.

Since that wasn’t on the table, (heh), instead Rus chewed frantically, still trying to gulp down his overflowing mouthful of dry pastry when Edge turned around with a freshly filled cup in hand. He nearly choked on his first sip as he caught sight of the table, swinging around to give his brother a positively scathing glare.

Ah. Looked like maybe Red neglected to mention they’d be here. Great.

“Good morning,” Edge said, scowling into his cup. He was already impeccably dressed in one of those suits of his, but the normal rasp in his voice was downright hoarse and beneath his sockets were rusty stains of exhaustion. He didn’t look like he’d slept two winks after Rus left him last night.

“are you—” okay, Rus didn’t say, looked back down at his plate. Like he had any right to ask Edge anything after what he did.

Turned out, he wasn’t the only one concerned. Blue never ignored a chance to play caretaker and he was all but standing in his chair, leaning across the table anxiously. “I hope you don’t mind me saying so, Edge, but you look a touch under the weather, are you feeling all right?”

“I’m afraid it’s self-inflicted,” Edge said. He took another long sip from his mug, clearing his throat before adding smoothly, “My apologies, I had a little too much to drink last night.”

That only seemed to up Blue’s concern, probably worrying it was their fault Edge was spending his night drinking, which, well, it sort of was. At least half their fault, anyway, and Rus stared hard at his plate where the bitten pastry was oozing jam like a wound.

“But self-inflicted doesn’t mean you need to suffer,” Blue objected. “I know how to heal, I could—”

“Thank you,” Edge interrupted firmly, “but no.”

“It’s no trouble at all!”

“I’m sure it’s not. I appreciate the offer, but it won’t be necessary.”

“But—"

Rus kept his head down, picking flecks of sugar glaze off his wounded pastry as he waited for Edge’s immovable object to stop butting against Blue’s unstoppable force. A wary glance at Red showed him leaning back in his seat with his hands woven together over his belly, watching the show.

Yeah, he seemed like the kind of guy to think this was hilarious and considering that their height difference made Blue the metaphorical dachshund barking at the great dane’s ankles, Rus had to admit, Red sort of had a point. This time.

Blue looked as if he were chewing on his own tongue instead of a pancake, complaining, “If I could get to my garden, I’d at least make you some tea. It’s my own blend!”

Tea wasn’t a bad idea, really, not nearly as invasive as letting someone use their own magic directly on you. Golden flower tea, infused with the magic Blue used to tend to their gardens and like all Monster food, it had healing qualities. Rus knew from personal experience it tended to be quite potent.

“Coffee will suffice,” Edge said decisively and that seemed to be the end of it.

“Well, at least sit down and get some food in you. It’s been a while since my brother and I had a chance to share breakfast,” Blue said brightly. “He’s usually off to open the shop while I tend to the garden, it’s been mostly cold cereal for us, I’m afraid.”

“All I want is coffee, I need to get downtown.”

Red spoke up at then, “that ain’t no way to treat your guests.”

“We don’t have guests,” Edge snapped.

“no?” Red let out a short, abrupt laugh, though his glittering eye lights held no humor. “you got a better name, bro?”

Rus had a few. Prisoners, kidnappees, captives? Hostages? None of those seemed to quite fit the bill and maybe Edge was thinking the same thing. “I brought one guest. The other is here entirely because of you, so I believe entertainment is your purview.”

“only fair for me to have a pal if you do.”

“Yes, fair,” Edge said dryly. “Fairness is always a concern of yours.”

“hey.” That tone made Rus want to sit up straight and cringe at the same time, iron-hard. “have a seat, boss.”

Boss? Rus gave up on his attempt to blend into the furniture and looked up, reluctantly curious. Red caught him out almost instantly and his cool glare shifted to an easy, lazy grin.

“don’t need to be so surprised, sweetheart, edge is the one who runs things ‘round here,” Red said lazily. “i do this and that, let him handle th’ important shit. always was fuckin’ terrible at paperwork.”

Next to him, Blue was chewing determinedly, stabbing at his sausages with his fork. It was probably killing him not to chide Red about his language, but he was also their host. Torn between one set of manners and another left him at a silent impasse.

Edge gave his brother another scathing glare but didn’t argue. “I need to get to work.”

He set his coffee cup down on the side of the table with a solid thunk, turning towards the door, and he was going to leave, heading out when he wasn’t at his best where there were people trying to kill him and Rus wouldn’t even have a chance to say anything, to explain, he couldn’t—

“i’m sorry!” Rus blurted out as he shot to his feet, knocking against the table hard enough to rattle the glasses and flatware. “i’m so sorry, for last night. i didn’t mean for that to happen.”

Edge froze. Slowly, he turned back to face Rus, looking down at him and Rus met that unwavering crimson gaze without flinching, despite the frantic pounding in his soul. He wasn’t good at this, not with apologies or confrontation; he’d rather go hide and smoke through a pack of cheap Marlboros until he was sick while wishing for this to all go away. But he couldn’t let Edge go out there thinking…well, thinking whatever he did about Rus. By now he had to be catching on to the fact that his fantasies weren’t anything close to Rus’s reality and that was what it was, but at least Rus wanted that reality to be the truth and not tainted by one thoughtless act.

Edge looked away first, flicking a glance at Blue and Red, both who were watching with varying levels of narrow confusion.

“Forthright,” Edge murmured. His tight, cold expression eased, softening, “I’m sorry, too, flower shop. I was a little drunk, and I shouldn’t have,” his gaze flicked again to Red, who was watching with brow bones climbing ever higher on his forehead, and Blue, who was full out gaping, mouth open. Whatever he’d been about to say was amended smoothly to, “Shouldn’t have said what I did.”

“okay, so we’re both sorry. that’s…that’s good.” Rus smiled a little, stupidly. It wasn’t like this solved anything or changed it. It still made that hard ache behind his breastbone loosen, gave him some measure of ease.

That faint, lopsided smile curving Edge’s mouth was even better. Rus braced himself when Edge reached out, then he watched in confusion as Edge plucked up a napkin, dabbing lightly at the side of Rus’s mouth. “Jam,” he said, as if in explanation. As though anything could explain the way he paused with his knuckles lightly resting against Rus’s chin, his gloved thumb following along the same path as the napkin, “Behave while I’m gone. I’m running low on rescues.”

It took a second for that to get through the warm, fuzzy haze settling over Rus, brought on by the gentle touch against his mouth. When it did, he stood up straighter in pure indignation, protesting, “i wasn’t misbehaving before!”

“No, you weren’t,” Edge agreed. “But somehow, you’ve already figured out how to cause me plenty of trouble, I’d hate to see what you manage if you actually tried.”

Rus swore he could feel the husky rumble of that voice through Edge’s touch, but it was another voice that broke the spell, this one as jagged as broken glass.

“thought you were leavin', boss,” Red sounded perturbed and he seemed to have forgotten his quest to get Edge to sit down to breakfast with them.

Edge said nothing. There was only a last brush of his gloved fingers across Rus’s cheekbone, satin-soft over the lingering bruise. Then he turned on his heel and walked out, leaving Rus alone with an outraged Red and his own suspicious brother.

Rude. Guess rescues didn’t include from family.

Welp, Edge might like to play the knight in tarnished armor, but for Rus, he was going with abject cowardice. He started filling his plate with food, ignoring the way Edge’s cologne seemed to cling to where he’d touched and replaced that aroma with tasty bacon.

“this’s really good,” Rus said around a mouthful, risking his brother’s wrath as he shoveled in another bite. If he kept eating, he couldn’t say anything stupid.

It was worth a shot.

Edge’s half-filled coffee cup was still sitting on the table and with a mental shrug Rus stole it, downing the bitter blackness in a shuddering gulp. Waste not the caffeine. He had a feeling from the way Red and Blue were still staring at him that he was probably gonna need all the help he could get.

tbc

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#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #mafia AU

44 notes · View notes

minnochu · 4 years

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Don’t Make Me Say It.

Officer!Yoongi x Reader Spin Off

(A/n) I have finally finished my Officer!Yoongi spin off that I promised because I fell in love with his role in Interference and just want to give him some love. Hi. I spent a long time thinking up this one, and it’s kind of a mess and weird to be honest, probably rushed ‘cause I wasn’t about to pour my guts out for a whole chapter fic (sorry), but I do hope you enjoy it!

This mildly references Interference, but it can be read as a standalone if you don’t want to read it lol. Link to Interference if you dare!!

*Warnings: Death, mention of suicide and postpartum depression, mention of organ trafficking, mention of drugs, non consensual touching and kidnapping, explicit language, reader’s boss smacks her, a customer also smacks reader’s ass too.

Word Count: 17.6k

“Don’t you think you need to settle down with a woman of your own, hyung?”

It’s a question Taehyung and now Jimin asks him. He always blows it off as something he doesn’t necessarily need when he’s married to his job and sleep. As he finds himself doting on Jimin’s new found relationship with a past and now solved case, the latter thought maybe it was time to keep the elder from constantly nagging them like a grandmother. Not like his girlfriend had any complaints to his and Hoseok’s unannounced visits.

“Like I said!” He drawls groggily, his voice heavy with sleep after he was promptly woken up, “Something like that isn’t for me.”

“That’s what I said too hyung,” Jimin sighed exasperatedly while pinching the bridge of his nose, “But you were the one who pushed us together, and plus… you could use a little happiness in your life.”

The blonde scoffs at this, kicking his shoes up onto his desk nonchalantly, promptly ignoring Seokjin’s protests at the action. Closing his eyes, he crosses his arms behind his head and leans back in his chair, “I’m already happy enough seeing all your stupid faces everyday and sleeping when I’m not burning my eyes at the sight of homicide cases.”

“Wow I’m flattered,” Seokjin grits as he shoves the younger’s feet off the desk, “Sheesh, maybe a girl will teach you some manners.”

“I treat Jiminie’s girl just fine, don’t I?”

“Still, we don’t want our precious Min Yoongi dying a bachelor who only knows how to sleep and solve cases,” Hoseok teases as he slings an arm around his partner, “How ‘bout I set you up on blind dates like we did with Jiminie?”

The latter shivers at the thought of his past blind dates that ended up with his meeting with Jungmi. It was a relief to finally be rid of her and her conniving father and Jungkook too. The rest of the men seem to share the same thoughts as the second youngest.

“Considering your taste in women?” Yoongi clicks his tongue as he gives his partner a judging glare, only to tilt his head to the side when Hoseok launches a half hearted punch at his face with a pout.

“That hurts hyung!”

After much pestering however, Yoongi ended up agreeing to a month of blind dates if the guys would finally stop bugging him about a girlfriend that he honestly didn’t have any need for. He didn’t even know why it was so important for him to have one.

It’s a drag, are his only thoughts as he meets up at cliche date spots like the park, a cafe, or a restaurant. And the dates themselves? He wouldn’t call them back. He didn’t even bother trying to learn their names. Perhaps this was payback for setting up Jimin on those blind dates, ultimately resulting in him meeting Jungmi.

“Ah, Yoongi-ssi, do you mind walking me home? It’s quite dark…” one bold woman asks after the eleventh blind date so far. He wondered how many women his coworkers knew, but he decided he wasn’t going to see her ever again anyways so he might as well be civil for once.

The woman tries to start small talk but he promptly ignores her when he hears noises coming from the alleyway that they happen to pass by. It’s almost pitch black, but he can make out tall figures surrounding a fallen and petite form on the ground. He almost tries to ignore it, but the officer side of him turns sharply into the alley without any explanation to his very confused date whose legs are shaking wildly in fear when he’s engulfed in the darkness the further he ventures onward.

“Call the police!” Is all he answers back with.

And from there on, he spots you among the crowd of men standing above your fallen body. He scrutinizes your messy hair and odd fashion that reveals your midriff, chest, and shoulders where your scarlet flannel is only held together by one button with the sleeves slid below your shoulders. The fashion of kids these days, he thought flippantly.

“Hey, it doesn’t seem very fair to gang up on a little girl,” he grunts as the thugs turn and glare at him venomously. Sizing them up silently, he wondered if he should take the girl and make a run for it or get his hands dirty.

“Who the hell is this asshole?” One scoffs, but the others are way ahead and already lunging at the detective.

Yoongi effortlessly dodges and deflects the attacks, watching in the corner of his eye if you were in danger. But he’s surprised to find you holding your own ground against two of them. He momentarily forgets the men in front of him when he narrowly dodges the thrust of a knife. Narrowing his eyes, he redirects another thrust before twisting the man’s arm behind his back. Taking the knife, he pushes the thug harshly into the other guys.

By the time the cops have arrived, Yoongi has incapacitated them to keep them from trying to get away when he didn’t have any cuffs on him.

“I didn’t need your help,” you pout, looking up at him with a glare. Crossing your arms over your chest, he has to keep himself from pointing out your very visible and very black sports bra.

“I couldn’t leave a child to fend for herself,” he shrugged, looking you up and down with a judging look.

Puffing out your cheeks, your eyes narrow at him, “I’m not a child!”

“Sure you aren’t,” he shrugged, catching your punch in his hand and pulling you forward and to the side to make you stumble over your feet. He quirked an amused upturn of his lips at your obvious annoyance, “Get home safely, kid.”

“I’m 20 dammit!” You pout then and even now as you storm into your apartment with your eyebrows furrowed, bruised fists clenching around plastic bags of ingredients for the next few meals or so.

The place is rather cheap, the paint chipping off here and there with dark water stains discoloring the ceiling. The carpet is stained and flattened with age along with the drab furniture that completes the shabby appearance of the home.

“Unnie?” the familiar voice of your little sister, Hyemi, calls from the hallway. Her head peers around the corner before her whole body jumps out and she’s bounding towards you for a hug. “Welcome home!” she greets happily, going on about her good day at school and how much she missed you.

“Yeah?” You smile softly, your sour mood simmering at the sight of your cute little sister who had just begun her first year of middle school, “Tell me all about it when I finish up dinner okay?”

“Dad’s not home again for dinner?” she asks as you pull your messy hair into a ponytail and move your conversation to the kitchen.

Shaking your head, you grimace as you begin preparing the items for dinner, “I don’t think so… I’m sorry..”

Sorry. You didn’t even know what you were apologizing for. For the absence of your father? For the living conditions you both had to endure because of him? It’s not that he was a terrible father… You could only blame it on the sudden bankruptcy his business fell into, which put your family in great debt.

Your mother? She left. Father? He promised you both he would work to create a better living for you. Which meant going the whole day without seeing his once happy face around the house. And now? The little times you caught him sluggishly returning home in the middle of the night, his face was tired. It didn’t look as youthful as it did when you were still in high school.

Must be why you changed. You mulled over how perfect your grades were in high school until debt and your parents’ divorce threw you in the deep end and persuaded you into delinquency. Instead of going to college like your past self wanted to, you went straight to working any kind of job that would hire you. Currently, you worked at a restaurant during the day, and a bar as a waitress during the night.

The money always went to groceries, your father, and a little something for Hyemi you always saved on the side.

Despite all that’s happened, you still love your father dearly. Right now, all you wanted was for Hyemi to be safe and well fed. If something happened to her, you would surely go on a rampage.

After your sister has finally gone to bed, you’re left alone to your thoughts as you clean up the dishes and refrigerate the leftovers. You think about hours prior when that man interferes with your run-in with thugs outside the bar you worked at. Icy blonde hair, pale skin, and brooding dark eyes. Shivering, you placed a hand over your chest to ponder over the thumping in your chest.

Everything diminishes once you hear the door open and close, the rusty hinges whining as your father grunts, followed by a prompt thud of his weight hitting the couch.

“Welcome back,” you greet from the kitchen doorway, smiling as he casts you a weary smile back.

“Sorry I’m late… again,” he chuckles forlornly, slumping against the back of the sofa and resting his head against the cushions. “I’m really trying my best… we’re so close to being free, but it’s like there’s not a lot of time left.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you lean your head against the wall as you observe the fatigue in his body… his eyes.

“I know… we know.”

“Send my regards to Hyemi, it’s been really busy at the company, I’m sure she must really despise me for leaving you two by yourselves all the time.” He laughs, but it’s hollow. There’s no emotion, and you know that he’s so worn down from all the stress of paying back the people who’ve helped his company stay alive after its sudden fall.

“Or… you know… you could say hi before you leave again… or even leave a note,” you suggest nonchalantly as you move to take a seat beside him, “I’m sure she would rather hear it from you than through me... She only misses you, you know.”

He stays silent at that, and you know that in the end you’ll have to tell Hyemi once again that he loves her and whatnot. It just wasn’t special that way. Not at that young age.

“I love you both, with all of my heart and soul,” he blurts out, turning to look at you with a crestfallen expression. Why? Why did he look like that?

You open your mouth to ask him why the confession all of a sudden when he pulls out two tickets from his coat pocket and practically shoves them in your face.

“One of my employees gave these to me,” he explains as you eye them quizzically, “A coupon to a really nice restaurant in town… You and Hyemi should go out and have some fun for the day, eat out and maybe watch a movie!”

“Sure… thanks.”

If only you had the confidence to tell him how much you wanted him to join you both. A family night out. Something you all haven’t been able to do since the company crumbled and your mother left.

After that chance encounter, Yoongi couldn’t focus. He wonders if that girl is alright. He wonders if that’s a normal thing for you. Which makes him all the more worried that thugs are targeting you.

“So… how are you liking the blind dates?” Hoseok asks as the former drives to the site they were supposed to search through, Jimin and Taehyung to arrive later on after their meeting.

“Disgusting,” Yoongi drones blandly as they arrive at a worn down apartment complex. The place is shady, and a sore thumb in a place like Seoul. “Couldn’t you guys find interesting women?”

“Don’t be like that! Please tell me you at least texted back one of them!” Hoseok grins with a nudge to his partner’s side, but the male isn’t amused by him and shakes his head as he heads up the stairs to the second floor. He observes the dirty stucco and the peeling paint on the hand rails, frowning at the kind of place Namjoon sent them to.

“If I say yes, will you stop pestering me?” He asked as they arrive at the apartment, caution tape barricading the door along with two officers that nod their head in greeting.

Hoseok shrugged, obviously knowing that he wouldn’t, “Only if you’re telling the truth.”

The elder can only sigh as they enter to find other police officers already inside and taking notes. One of them perks up at the two’s entrance and hurry over. Over the former’s shoulder, Yoongi can make out a complete disaster of the room. The apartment was already worn down as it was, but everything was in a disarray from the couch being flipped over to the television smashed to pieces on the cruddy brown carpet to the blood staining the said flooring.

The liquid was not yet crusty brown upon further inspection after the officer filled in him and Hoseok about the neighbors reportedly hearing the firing of a gunshot.

Hoseok searched the rooms, which must’ve been just as trashed, while Yoongi stayed in the living room to inspect the male victim. He had to be in his forties, no older than fifty, dressed in work clothes that were drenched in the pool of blood coming from the obvious gunshot to his head. Unable to touch the corpse just yet, he suspected the blow from a close distance, wondering if they did so in order to extract the bullet to keep from any evidence being left.

Notably, dried tracks ran down his cheeks from the corners of his eyes. Crying? Was he threatened? He wondered why he found the last expression of this man turning out to seem more and more melancholy and simply tired.

Were they looking for something, he wondered? Burglars? Why did they go so far as to delivering a clean shot to the cranium?

The messy hair reminded him of you. It just so happened to be the same hair color, and he wondered why he was suddenly thinking of you. An insignificant little girl he just so happened to help out despite your stubborn claims that you were just fine on your own.

“Miss, we cannot let you in!”

“This is my home! You can’t possibly be telling me I can’t go in!” A voice raises with ferocity, reminding Yoongi of a certain someone.

“St-still… w-wait!”

He turns right at that moment to see you with fire in your eyes as you evade the grasps of the officers to head straight towards the sofa where you ignore Yoongi to set your eyes right then and there on the corpse.

The plastic bag of leftovers and a meal you and Hyemi picked out to bring home for your father is left abandoned on the ground when you set your eyes on your fallen father.

“D-dad?”

Well fuck. Of course it had to be your dad, making it all the more complicated for Yoongi. What a drag, he thought as he stood from his crouching position to halt your approach.

“What do you think you’re doing,” you grit, fists clenching as you stare helplessly at your father, “Get out of my way.”

“I can’t let you, you’ll only contaminate the evidence, and that includes your father’s body over here,” he explains calmly, biting his lip when he notices the traces of tears that gloss over your eyes at the severity of the situation. He sends a look to the officers to let him handle it, their shoulders relaxing after you pretty much shoved the guards out front to the side.

Tears blur your vision as you ball your fists and recklessly launch a punch at his face in fury, but he catches it easily just like the night you both met. Your eyes travel between Yoongi’s apathetic eyes to the tear-dried face of your parent. Why were his eyes so cold? Why did he look as though he were belittling you for acting the way you did?

Your knees shake and buckle, your weight folding underneath you as you crumple to the ground, wrist still held high from his hold. You refused to cry in front of him and all these officers. How could you face Hyemi? How could you have left your father alone at home?

“I love you both with all my heart and soul.”

It clicked now. You figured he knew his time was up at that time. He intentionally drove you and your sister away for the day. But who would be behind this? Who wanted him dead?

You felt dizzy thinking more about it, stomach churning even more the longer you stared at his lifeless body.

“H-hey!” Yoongi blinked in surprise when you fell face forward, his hands catching you by the shoulders.

“You know her, Yoongi?” Hoseok asks as the blonde hooks his arms under your legs and back.

Fixing your head against his shoulder, he gives a brief shrug, “More or less.” Bowing his head at the officers, he promised to return to aid in investigation later on once he deals with you. Outside the apartment is your little sister, who gasps at her older sister’s unconsciousness.

“I-Is she okay?” She asks worriedly, her eyebrows furrowing, “What’s happening to our apartment? Is my dad in there?”

Hoseok seemed to catch on as he bows his head towards her, “Let’s move to our car, we can explain when we get your sister settled down.”

Yoongi allows his partner to be the one to deliver the news as you slowly regain consciousness laying down in the back seat of their car. He watches as you slowly sit up and glare at him leaning against the trunk of the vehicle.

“Morning kid,” he says, causing you to frown even more at his nickname for you.

“I told you I’m 20. I have a name too you know! It’s (Y/n)!”

He snorts at that, “20 with the behavior of a child.”

You turn away with a pout, letting him win this bout. The older man takes this chance to fully look you up and down, noticing the nice cropped blouse you were wearing along with high waisted jeans in contrast to your scandalous casual attire the other night. You both couldn’t have known, he thinks as Hoseok tries to comfort the younger sister.

“So what now,” you grunt, leaning your head against the seats, “My apartment’s overrun by officers, there’s no way we’re getting in and having a good night’s rest just like that.” It didn’t appear like it hit you yet, but he can only assume that you were putting a facade, in contrast to the sniffles coming from your sister.

Suddenly, Yoongi felt something familiar with this kind of situation. His eyes jumped from you to Hoseok to your sister. This was all too familiar. He wondered why when he spotted Jimin and Taehyung making their way towards them.

Fuck. This is just like Jimin’s old situation with his now girlfriend.

“Any relatives, or friends you could stay with?” He asked, trying to avoid offering his place. His heart sped up at the thought and he cursed it for that.

You shrugged, frowning as your sister sobbed and cried her eyes out, “Hyemi probably has some friends who would offer her a place, but me… not really… as pathetic as that sounds. I don’t even have enough money to stay too long at an inn.”

“Why not at Yoongi’s place then?” Jimin mentions, nudging the elder knowingly, “He and Hoseok would gladly offer you a place until your apartment is thoroughly inspected and cleaned up!”

Yoongi glares at him for bringing up the idea, and the younger is aware of it as he ignores it to snicker at his distasteful frown with Taehyung who catches on.

“With this old fart?” You snort, “I’ll just sleep on the streets then.”

“That wouldn’t be too advisable,” Hoseok cuts in, guiding a shaky Hyemi into your open arms to comfort her, “It’s only an assumption that this was an intentional killing. The files read that your father is well known businessman whose company went downhill until another organization stepped in to help pay, someone might be behind this... who knows if you two will be targeted as well.”

Yoongi gives a stern look towards the younger, who turns a blind eye.

“Yeah! It’ll be much safer with these two!” Taehyung grins, winking at the smirking Jimin.

When it’s finally decided that you two would stay at their apartment, Yoongi vowed to get back at them later on. They exchanged teasing smirks, only for Yoongi to harshly pinch the closest one - Taehyung, who jumped and pouted at him.

“You’ll all pay later,” He promised menacingly, eyes darting back to you and your sister waiting patiently in the car.

Hoseok grinned, “Not unless you’re thanking us for setting you up with the pretty older sister that you seem to already know!~”

“Now doesn’t seem like the best time, does it?” He harshly shoots back, remembering the despair written all over your expression back in the apartment.

The younger shrugs, keeping a lighthearted smile before turning to the other two more serious now, “We’ll take the two back then, we’ll be back soon.”

On the drive home, Yoongi wants boiling lava to burn him alive right then and there. They left a small crack in the divider glass, but all that can be heard are Hyemi’s faint sniffling. Even more than that, he can feel your burning gaze staring straight into the back of his skull.

“I’m gonna hurt you later,” he whispers harshly to his partner as they lead you and your sister into their apartment.

“Make yourselves at home, I’ll try to see if I can retrieve some of your clothes tomorrow if they’re not too busy clearing the scene or looking for evidence,” Yoongi dismisses when you both stand awkwardly in the middle of their living room, “We’ll be heading back now.”

“W-wait!” You call out almost automatically, catching him by his elbow. He turns to regard you with a raised brow and you seem to deflate at that, “If there’s anything you find out about my father, please tell me.”

He wonders how you go from fiery and rowdy to timid and vulnerable. As much as he hated to say it, it was quite cute ignoring the situation— what? Frowning at his inner thoughts, he merely nodded and left them to their own devices as he and Hoseok went on their way after leaving you with their phone numbers in case of an emergency.

“You thought she was cute back there didn’t you?” Hoseok grinned knowingly.

The elder shot him a glare, but not denying it either as they drove back to the crime scene.

“You guys are dumb, I’m only letting them in because they’ll be in possible danger otherwise. Plus I can avoid blind dates now since we’re busy being bodyguards.”

“No need for blind dates when you’ve got Miss (Y/n).”

“Shut up, I already told you, now’s not a good time for her,” he frowned as they made their way back to the apartment.

“So you would’ve considered if the time was right?” Hoseok concluded more than asked.

He shrugged, obviously knowing he couldn’t deny it in front of his partner.

“Forensics took the body to look closely and search for any fragments left from the bullet if any,” Jimin fills them in when they arrive to only find the taped outline of the victim, “The bullet went straight through, whoever did this must’ve wanted to keep any evidence from being left.”

“The place is utterly ransacked, I don’t know if that’s to create confusion, but it just looks like they were trying to find something.”

Yoongi kept quiet, crouching down near a toppled over bookshelf. The contents were spilled haphazardly across the carpet, including picture frames, books, and photo albums. He didn’t touch but he can make out pictures of you, your little sister, and your dad. One particular frame contained a peculiar photo of a woman, possibly your mother, but she looked the splitting image of Hyemi, nothing like you. He bent down and squinted when he found another piece behind it from the end that was broken.

Sliding it out carefully, his brows furrowed at the different woman in the photo that held onto an infant while smiling brightly. That had to be you, he thought, recognizing small features that reminded him of you. As embarrassing as it seemed for him to already recognize it.

He waved it off as not looking similar to your sister.

A mistress he supposed.

He took the previous picture as well, pocketing both to research later for facial recognition.

“We’re just about done for the day, you two head home and we’ll report back to Namjoon,” Taehyung says as they walk back to their cars, “Don’t wanna leave your lady friend alone at home.”

Yoongi frowned at his teasing, “She’s just someone I met. Besides, she tried attacking me when we met.”

“So she’s feisty?” Hoseok smirks, wiggling his eyebrows at him.

“Can you do me a favor then?” He asks, ignoring his partner, “Find out what you can about these two women.”

He hands Jimin the two photos before nodding a farewell. Hoseok follows after him curiously, “What was up with the two photos?”

“I found them by the bookshelf, one of the photos was hidden behind the other, there’s a different woman in the hidden one,” He explained as they drove home, in the corner of his eye he could tell Hoseok was pondering over the new information, “I was thinking it could be a mistress, the two look very similar to their respective mothers if I’m correct that the father had an affair. Or he could have remarried if something happened to (Y/n)’s mother.”

“It’s all just speculation,” He shrugged as they started towards their apartment, “Hopefully Jimin can find something.”

Turning the doorknob to their apartment, he pressed inward and felt a tsunami of savory scents crash into him as soon as they entered. He blinked as he noticed only Hyemi was sitting on the couch watching television.

“If you’re wondering, unnie is cooking dinner!” she cracks a small smile when she greets them respectfully. Although her eyes were still quite puffy and swollen from earlier. Yoongi noted how so much differently she acted opposed to your feisty firecracker actions. Was that just a way to protect yourself, he wondered.

He nodded and made his way towards the kitchen to see you standing by the stove. You look over your shoulder and he’s almost spellbound by the sight of you cooking in his kitchen. Until you ruined it by shooting him a glare and turning away with a grunt.

“Hello to you too,” He raises an eyebrow, ignoring your attitude to step behind you and look over your shoulder, “Kimchi fried rice?”

“I hope you don’t mind me going through your fridge, Hyemi got hungry so I thought I’d make dinner… as thanks for letting us stay here...” you trail off the last part but he hears it anyway, watching you mix in chicken.

“It’s nothing, it’s just part of the job I guess,” he shrugs, turning away to grab a drink from the fridge. As he does this, he doesn’t realize the pout that puckers your lips.

Just a job, you think blandly as you finish up the meal and start plating it.

“You’re right,” You smile half heartedly as you place the platter on the dining table.

“Anyways, I have a question,” He asks, sitting down at the dining table as you take out bowls and utensils, “Where’s your mother?”

“What about her?” You turn suddenly, squinting at him suspiciously, “She left us when my dad fell into deep debt and started a family on her own, that’s all there is to it.”

Yoongi wondered which you were referring to. Hopefully Jimin could figure out the women in the pictures, it’d make it easier on him what kind of questions he’d ask. He didn’t want to jump the gun and assume what happened.

“Right, sorry… just asking for any other connections to your father.”

“I guess,” you shrug as you call out for Hyemi who comes running along with Hoseok.

The latter gasps, “Wow! Haven’t had dinner this extravagant before! Besides from Jiminie’s girl of course.”

You frown at that, looking at him weirdly, which he catches with a knowing grin.

“We’re not that great at cooking, only simple dishes, other times it’s just takeout,” he explains, “Man! This must be how Taehyung and Jimin are getting by now, those two cannot cook for the life of them!”

“Jimin and Taehyung?” You repeat, thinking back to the apartment with the other two detectives, “Are they the two that were at the apartment today?”

“Yup, I guess you could say they’re like us, Yoongi and Jimin are both stone cold, while Taehyung and I are more wild I guess,” Hoseok grins back, “That being said, Yoongi is Jimin’s adoptive brother.”

Yoongi shoots Hoseok a glare, wondering why he was spilling details about him to them when they were just gonna be on their own once again after all has been solved and taken care of.

When dinner was finished and you were washing the dishes, he cleared his throat to get your attention.

“I’ll be heading over to your apartment tomorrow again, I’ll see if I can find some clothes for you to wear.”

He waited for a response, but you merely continued your washing silently. Hoseok had offered to wash, but you said it would only be fair for you to do it as thanks. Pursing his lips, he decided to leave it at that and turned on his heel to leave.

“Take me with you,” you finally said, turning around to hold his gaze, “I have to work anyways.”

“Work?” He repeats with a raised brow.

“Yeah, remember the alley you met me? It’s near the bar I waitress at… usually I’d go work at a restaurant, but tomorrow’s my off day.”

He’d just learned about your father’s debt just now, he didn’t realize that meant you had to shoulder it as well. You probably wouldn’t want him to pity you, but he felt a sudden admiration for you taking care of your sister. It reminded him of his younger self finding Jimin that eventful day and taking him in.

“Okay, but we’re gonna have to stop by the precinct.”

He was about to leave when it seemed everything was said and done, but he stopped himself when he turned to see Hyemi lying down on the couch.

“Do you two want to use my bed? I’ll sleep on the couch.”

You turned at this but looked away with surprise to see him staring right at you.

“I-it’s alright, plus who would want to sleep in your bed you pervert. Who knows what you do on your bed!”

He squints at you, raising his eyebrows at your accusation. Scoffing, he turned away, “Don’t make any assumptions about my sex life, suit yourself then.”

“Who would??” You shriek, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks at the image that creates for your wandering mind.

“Ugh I hate him!” You mutter under your breath as you return to the couch with blankets and pillows that Hoseok had lent to you. Hyemi glances up to you wearily, lifting herself to take a pillow and a blanket from you. “How are you feeling?”

The younger smiles weakly, her eyes falling to her lap when she feels the threat of tears building at her eyes. Her teeth dig into her quivering lip as you wrap your arms around her and tuck her head against your neck.

“I can’t believe…”

You hush her solemnly, laying your head back against the couch to blink back the tears that have welled at your own.

Yoongi turned back towards his room with a grimace. You didn’t need pity. But he can’t imagine the anguish and sadness that you and your sister must feel, abandoned by your mother, and now your father had been possibly murdered. It just wasn’t something you or your sister deserved to experience, especially with Hyemi that young of an age and having to now grow up without both of her parents.

“Be safe!” You call out the next day as you and the detectives drop off your sister at her school. Despite unable to retrieve clothes for the day, the school had allowed her to wear her physical ed uniform until the search in your home was done, unless you pay for a new uniform but that was unlikely. It appeared as though you were back to being well put together, Yoongi noted as you hug your sister briefly.

Hyemi only smiles as she nods, Hoseok promising to pick her up when she’s done. Her expression is tired, but she still attempts to put on a show to mirror the strength of your facade.

“I miss having school friends like that,” you sigh as you watch Hyemi disappear behind the school gates with a friend.

“Did you even have friends, with that attitude of yours?” Yoongi scoffs playfully as he begins driving towards the precinct.

You glare at the back of his head while Hoseok tries to diffuse the situation, “I did actually. I had good grades at that time! That was all before… that happened…” Your voice trails off and Yoongi wonders if he went too far. It seemed apparent now that your father’s debt had something to do with your personality. Could it also have been the estrangement of your mother? If the one you were referring to was in fact your mother.

“Just sit at my desk and be quiet, don’t talk to anyone except Hoseok,” Yoongi says when you all arrive at the precinct. You frown at this but quietly do what he says when all eyes are on you.

“Dang Yoongi, what are you doing bringing your girlfriend to work?” Taehyung snickers as he enters from the break room.

The elder glares at him, although the other officers in the room join the younger in snickering and teasing the usually cold man.

“Oh hyung,” Jimin perks up at his sudden appearance, beckoning him over, “I found information on the pictures you found.”

“Pictures?” You ask, “From my apartment?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi grimaced, motioning for you to come over. He couldn’t keep anything from you after all, you would’ve argued it as your right to see if it had to do with your family. “I hope you don’t mind, I picked up a couple of pictures I found in order to find some kind of connection to your father.”

“Not at all,” You blinked, wondering what he was getting out until he peered over the brunette to stare down at the two pictures with noticeably two different women. You’ve never seen the picture with the woman holding an infant before, and it was way too obvious that the child was you. “Where’d you get this?”

“I was looking around and found a broken picture frame, that picture was hidden behind the family portrait,” Yoongi explained, tapping on the second picture with the unknown woman, “You’ve never seen it before?”

You shake your head with a frown, brows furrowed in confusion, “I’ve never seen this woman ever in my life… but I do know that that is me she’s holding.”

“How ‘bout this woman?” Jimin ask, pointing to the woman you called your mother, the one you claimed to have left you and Hyemi.

“Our mother,” you point out with a shrug, “She’s off on her own with her own family now.”

“Right, well this woman…” he points at the one holding the infant, “I found her file, but not as a homicide case. Long time ago, her body was found in the river. It appeared she drove her car into the water, according to witnesses, and drowned, there were no signs of foul play so it was deemed a suicide.”

“There was no records on her, her only reported family is a younger brother… mm Hong Suk, I believe.. I have yet to look up his files at the moment.”

“And the other?” Yoongi asks, peering at your expression, but you hide your emotions better than usual.

Jimin holds up the family picture, “No criminal history as well, she seems to be living in a rural town outside of Seoul.”

“Do you have the address? I would like to ask her some questions.”

Despite you not wanting to see your mother, Yoongi insisted on bringing you with him and Jimin to the new home of your estranged mother. It felt weird standing outside the front door with the two donning their uniforms as they wait for someone to open the door. Footsteps resound behind the door, followed by clicks of the locks before an older woman opens the door. You recognize her immediately as the woman who left you and your sister.

“(Y/n)?” She asks, her voice surprised as she regarded the two officers politely, “What’s going on?”

“Ma’am, if we could have a moment of your time to ask you a few questions, that would be great,” Yoongi says after bowing his head respectfully, “Of course, you’re not obligated to answer if you wish not to… but it would be very beneficial considering this concerns your former husband who was found dead in his apartment the other day.”

Her eyes widen at this, looking at you for affirmation. You can only look away sadly, rubbing your palms together when there’s nothing more to be said when Yoongi said it all already. It’s not like you had anything to say to her anyway for leaving your family to join another. You just couldn’t let that fact go, even as she invites the three of you in for some tea to talk over the details and questioning.

“I see…” She starts, sitting down across from the three of you while pouring cups of freshly brewed tea for you all, “It must’ve been hard on you and Hyemi, huh?”

“Don’t act like you care about us,” You snap back harshly, looking away from her saddened smile. You could care less if she pitied you. Even now, you wondered why Jimin and Yoongi wanted to question her. It didn’t seem like she knew anything other than the fact that he was going into bankruptcy.

Yoongi clears his throat audibly, slicing through the tension between you both.

“Lastly, do you happen to know the woman in this photo?”

You mother’s eyes widen in recognition, holding the picture of the unknown woman and child, “Wow, haven’t seen this photo in such a long time, you looked so cute then, (Y/n).”

You squint at her, not knowing what she meant. Obviously, the child looked like you, but you had no recollection of who that woman was.

“You and your mother.”

Standing up suddenly, your eyes widen at her, “What?”

Her lips pull into a guilty smile, eyes staring right down at the picture, “This woman’s your mother.”

“How can that be so?” You urge on, biting your lip at the sudden news.

“Before your father and I got married, he was seeing another woman who bore his first child. As much as I tried despising you after her death, I just couldn’t even after I gave birth to Hyemi. I could only love you even more,” she explained, “I didn’t know too much about that woman, but she had such a big effect on him… it made me jealous how even after her suicide he cared a lot for her… I could only choose to drive myself away from him when I just couldn’t take being second in his heart over her.”

She notices the look you have on your face, eyebrows furrowed in concentration to remember but to no avail. It makes her smile weakly.

“You have her looks too,” she laughs, “She was a beautiful and strong woman I’ll tell you that… she was great at hiding her emotions… maybe that’s why your father couldn’t tell her signs of postpartum depression until after her death…”

“Do you know much about her brother?” Yoongi asks, cautiously gauging your expression.

The woman shakes her head with a grimace, “I’m sorry, unfortunately I don’t know too much about him. This is as much I can offer to help.”

“No, thank you,” Yoongi bows sincerely, as does his partner, “We’re grateful you agreed to let us question you.”

As Jimin and Yoongi pay their respects and bow, the woman you had thought to be your biological mother catches you at the elbow. Her expression is meek as she looks down immediately and retreats her hand from you.

“Listen (Y/n), you have my condolences for your father and your mother… I know it doesn’t mean anything coming from me, but take care of yourself and Hyemi please. I… if there’s anything I can do… maybe a place to stay… I heard about the apartment… it’s not much but I can roll out a futon in the living room… my husband won’t mind much...”

“I know you may not ever forgive me for leaving you both, but I truly do care for you two.”

You smile sadly back at the older woman, “Thank you for the offer, I’ll bring it up to Hyemi, but as for me… I will not ever stay with you. If you had cared as much as you say, you would have stayed. ” Bowing deeply, you give her a silent nod before turning to follow Yoongi who had been waiting there for you. His mouth is sewn together in a taut grimace as he bows once again to your step mother and leads you towards the car. To him, you were prissy and hard headed but it was these moments where he remembers what you’re going through and how you’re handling it as maturely as you could.

“I’ll see what I can do at your place, it’s only been a day so I can’t promise much clearance for your clothes.”

You couldn’t blame him if you had to wait another day for clothes, for now you had work to worry about. Although, you couldn’t keep yourself from mulling over the newly found information that is who your real mother is and the fact that she was dead. It was hard to accept, but you decidedly pushed the information to the back of your head for now as you wait for the two detectives to drive to your old apartment. From the parking lot below, you watch as the two approach other officers and converse, probably trying to get you a change of clothes.

They disappear into the home before the blonde reemerges and leans over the railing. He catches your eye and gives a curt shake of his head. You visibly slump, an action he later apologizes for when the two return to the car and explain how they have the apartment under lockdown still, clearance was still a possibility tomorrow and he’ll bring you first thing in the morning.

“Do you need me to stay and watch over you?”

You blink at the man. Was he growing a third head?

“I’ll be fine.”

Sighing, he glances at the bar front, frowning when a man walks from within the building, his appearance screaming exceptionally sleazy. Not to stereotype, but the ragged facial hair and barely made bed head, along with an inconspicuous beer belly threatening to pop open the straining button on his jeans, give Yoongi bad vibes.

“The other night can beg to differ,” his harsh voice rasps, “You don’t know if your father was specifically targeted, they may also be going after you.”

“I can handle myself!” You start to retort, hand curling around the door handle to exit the vehicle.

However, Yoongi grips at your wrist to keep you from leaving, “Yeah? Because you totally had it covered lying on the ground while four men two or three times your size were about to do God knows what to you. I’d say it was well handled.”

Fucking sarcasm. Yoongi bit you in the ass where it hurt.

Your face flushes brightly at that. He had a point and you hated to admit that he was right. Without him there, you could’ve been taken advantage of or worse.

“I only say this out of worry, I know gross, but I’m serious when I say that you may or may not be targeted and we are not about to risk your safety because you can handle yourself.”

It’s safe to say that your conversation ended at that, and Yoongi drops you off momentarily so he can go home and change into civilian clothes. It would be too suspicious for a detective to be in uniform and hanging around in a bar until closing. For emergencies, he kept a holster fastened around his waist, underneath his shirt, in case something does happen. When he returns, you, dressed in your uniform, immediately catch his eye as soon as he enters. He sits casually in a booth in the far corner of the room where he has view of the whole bar. A subtle nod of his head suffices in greeting, but you still blow a raspberry and walk over.

“Are you even allowed to be serving me alcohol?” He asks with a raises brow and you have to keep all you can from smashing the drink menu into his deadpan. You weren’t even sure if he was being serious or joking. Before you can retort, he waves his hand, “Forget it, just get me water, alcohol won’t do me good if something really does happen to you.”

“Why? Is your tolerance low?” You quip back venomously.

“I’d like to say the same to you, because apparently you’re an adult,” He mocks with an over-the-top scratching nasally tone.

“Fuck off.”

And one point goes to Yoongi as you stomp back to grab him his water. His eyes narrow when you come walking back and a hand purposefully reaches out to cop a feel of your rear. His fingers tap over his lap, itching to shoot a bullet through the asshole’s hand, when you accidentally step on the guy’s foot with menace.

Oh.

“Hey you bitch, you just stepped on my shoes!”

Fingers grip harshly to your wrist, yanking you back to the pervert’s table. Yoongi is already up on his feet and stepping in between you and the other man. He places a hand over the male’s wrist, the one keeping your struggling arm from escaping.

“I suggest you let go of her.”

The man raises a brow, narrowing his eyes in irritation at his meddling, “This has nothing to do with you, I suggest you sit down or I punch your pretty face and make you bleed.”

“And she obviously did not like you touching her ass, you pig, so let her go.”

“Hah?” The man balks at the insult, shoving your arm away in favor of standing to his full height, towering over the detective. “Say that again to me, pretty boy, I fucking dare you.”

The situation ultimately ends with Yoongi’s absolute domination and the two getting kicked out however. You’re still flattered that he stuck up for you nonetheless. Your boss had different thoughts however at the whole situation, especially when he’d definitely saw the deliberate stomp on his customer’s foot.

“How many times do I have to fucking tell you to just ignore the customers, we’ll be losing business because of your stupid pride!”

The blonde waits within ear distance, receiving your text that you would be leaving out the back right now. He immediately stopped when your boss had followed you outside. A slap to the face and Yoongi’s breath hitches. His fingers dig into his thighs through the fabric of his pockets.

“You’re lucky you still have a job, stupid bitch.”

When Yoongi steps out from the shadows, you can barely look him in the eye. You’re back in the clothes he had dropped you off in, your gaze downcast and your cheek raw and stinging from the hit. Where was the headstrong girl he’d met the few nights before?

“Does this always happen?” he attempts as he walks beside you towards his car. A sidelong glance is sent his way, a raised brow to accompany the look.

“Which are you referring to? The ass grab or my ass of a boss?’

“Both really.”

Not sure what compels him, he opens the passenger door for you. A gesture that is met by an eyebrow raise, making him question his own actions. You don’t comment thankfully, ducking into the car.

“It’s common, I’ve gotten used to it by now,” you reply once he’s situated in the driver’s side, both strapping in your seat belts. He hated that you merely shrugged it off, like you didn’t just get berated by your boss. You deserved better than that.

“That’s concerning.”

You stifle a snort at that. “That’s new, coming from you.”

“Am I a jerk to you or something?” He raises a brow as he turns on the ignition, the car purring to life. Your gaze is drawn to his slender ivory fingers, wrapping around the emergency brake handle. How was it even possible for him to have such pretty hands? They move to put the car in drive and you’re faintly aware that he’s waiting for a reply.

“N-not really… like you’re an ass sometimes but it kinda feels like you’re being forced to babysit me.”

“You’re my case after all.” It’s nonchalant, shrugging as if it were natural, but you still couldn’t help the unintended sting they inflict in your chest. If only you knew how in denial he was, trying to convince himself that you were indeed strictly a job he had to take care of.

“That’s not the point fuckhead, you and Hoseok let me into your home, a stranger, and now you’re taking me to work and watching over me…”

“We couldn’t have you staying on the streets when you barely have enough pay to afford an inn, not like that was an option when it’s possible someone’s coming after you and your sister,” he sighs this time, barely taking his eyes off the road to regard you with a frown, “Speaking of your sister, what are you going to do about your… er her mother’s offer?”

“I’ll bring it up to her… she misses her sometimes you know?… She might want to stay with her… I guess it’s also better than staying in a house with two grown men.”

His eyes narrow.

“What are you insinuating, brat?”

“As for me though,” you continue, ignoring him to his discontentment, “I can’t forgive her, with or without her being blood related, Hyemi can stay with her if she wants but I will never accept her help.”

And just as you claim, your younger sister is almost ecstatic to finally see her mother again. The elder woman smiling meekly at the young girl who glomps her with a big hug, her things in your hands as you silently pass them off to the one you had once called your mother. She attempted to smile your way and offer to shelter you as well, but you choose to ignore it.

“Take care of her. Please.”

It throws her off momentarily, but she can’t blame you.

“I will. You be safe too.”

Hyemi hugs you tightly, frowning and the verge of sobbing a protest. But you kiss her forehead and ruffle her hair, “Be strong for me, okay? Yoongi and Hoseok are gonna bring justice to Dad, okay?”

“But you can stay here too…” She knows how much you despise your… her mother after she left. Even if she never stopped loving and missing her, you could not find it in yourself to forgive her for it, ever.

“I’ll see you when this is all over, okay?”

You’re silent on the drive back home, cooking dinner, and then crawling onto the couch that is half empty now that Hyemi is going to be under her mother’s care for the time being.

The cushions dip under an added weight, your eyes glancing to the side to see Yoongi sitting there with his eyes trained on the television screen. He was clad in sweatpants and a tee shirt, a look that you had to silently admit looked very appealing on his lean body. His eyes slide to meet your gaze, your cheeks warming as you look away in embarrassment. He doesn’t comment on your staring, thankfully.

“You don’t plan on sleeping in your clothes from yesterday again, do you?”

You look to him again, confused this time.

“What are you implying?”

He sits there for a while, his mind thinking like cogs turning in his brain before he gets up abruptly and returns to his room. You don’t pay him any attention, glancing down at your phone when Hyemi texts you a goodnight followed by various heart emojis. A smile graces your face. Before it’s gone when Yoongi launches a shirt and shorts at your head.

Yanking the garments from your head, you shoot him daggers before glancing down at the clothes. His clothes. A romance trope that your high school persona would have gushed over.

“How cliche, didn’t see you as the type.”

“Shut it, or I’m taking it back.”

Raising an eyebrow, you shrug and shift to get up from the couch.

“Wouldn’t your girlfriend be jealous to see me wearing your shirt?”

“What girlfriend?”

“The one you were with that night, when you… stuck your nose in my business,” you recall the woman he’d been with that night, the one who had clung to his side after the police had shown up to detain the rowdy customers that had cornered you.

“You mean saved you, brat. It was a blind date. The idiots are trying so hard to tie me down, but I just don’t need one.”

You had almost been excited to hear that he was single.

“How ‘bout you? Got a boyfriend?”

“Do I look like I have one?”

Glancing you up and down, he shrugged with a quirk of the side of his mouth into a subtle smirk, “With that attitude? I’d be surprised if you even had a friend.”

He was relieved.

...What?

You roll your eyes, should’ve seen that one coming. “Okay asshole, to answer your question, no I don’t have one.”

“Okay.”

“Yes.”

What even were these replies?! What even was the way you felt nervous around him? You take this chance to head to the bathroom to change quickly, his shirt slightly big on your form as well as tightening the drawstring all the way. Before heading out, you pause to stare into your reflection.

How did it even come down to this? Dressed in the clothes of a man you hadn’t known for longer than two days. How did it even amount to the rosiness that bleeds across your cheeks and the muddled mess that’s your beating heart.

Returning, he’s taken a seat on the couch to your surprise, waiting for you to return possibly. You didn’t want to bring your hopes up.

...What? No no no, you did not just think that.

You muster up the courage to force down the lump in your throat and sit down beside him, pulling your legs up to your chest as you join him in watching the cartoon on screen. Then you break the silence once more.

“Can I ask you something?”

You cast him a glance, unaware of the heat burning at his cheeks and ears, his eyes flickering every now and then to drag over your form in his clothes. His adam’s apple bobbing with his swallow.

“What?” his reply comes out smooth, biting his lip in attempt to cool his head.

“Why are you so concerned?”

He deadpans, “Great question, you’re a brat, annoying, no ass on top of that, can barely fight for shit, get yourself into trouble quite often too…”

Irritated, you grab a pillow and launch it at his head, “So you are babying me you ass!”

“You’re my case, deal with it,” he scoffs, catching the item before it hits the side of his face.

After a moment passes, he breaks the silence that had settled after your outburst.

“Can I ask you something then.”

“What?”

“Why stay there?”

You blink, looking up at the ceiling as though the answer were there, “The bar? Not a lot of places take a girl with a delinquency record you know? I didn’t continue after high school, so I’m really limited.”

He wanted to ask you to quit. But that didn’t seem right. It didn’t even add up. Who was he to tell you to do so? You’re just a case. That’s why he cared. Because he was going to be the one who closes your father’s case and bring justice for what happened to him.

...Even if you were pretty and looked really nice in his clothes.

“I know what you’re going to say, even my dad didn’t like me working there. It’s shit. I know. The boss, an asshole, but it’s all I could manage to support my father and Hyemi. Sometimes I do wish I could go back to school.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Hyemi, remember? My father was busting his ass off when someone had paid his debts and salvaged his company, so he’s working hard to pay the him back.”

This was new.

“Him?”

“Father didn’t really talk about work too much. So I don’t really know who helped him, but it really stressed him out paying back whoever had helped him out.”

He hums, rubbing his hand over his mouth as you yawn beside him. The action was cute.

“Speaking of,” He starts out, garnering your attention once again, “How are you holding up?”

You figured he was talking about your father again. How were you feeling? Sad? Empty? Angry? A mixture of anything and everything negative? He was no therapist, but as much as you can smile at Hyemi and act strong for her, the emotion never reached your eyes. You were exhausted and grieving, but it never helped that you still had to pick yourself back up for the sake of your sister and having to take life on despite the misgivings of the world taking your father away from you both. Moreover that, he wondered how you felt knowing your actual mother was not the one you’d grown up with. He wanted to know what was going inside your head, how you were able to just keep going despite everything being thrown at you in an effort to drag you down.

It all reminded him of Jimin, but in a way you were still very different from the boy he’d met many years ago. You, however, were very good at putting a smile on your face despite the exhaustion in your eyes from putting up a front.

Just as he says, the ghost of a smile curls at your lips, your eyes glancing down at your toes.

“I’m not sure if it’s even hit me, to be honest, I’m not even sure how to feel about my mom not being my mom,” You say, followed by a humorless laugh, “I cried with Hyemi, yeah… but there’s no time for me to grieve or crumble… I’m sure even he wouldn’t want us wasting away because of his death…”

“You still should give yourself the chance to let it out.”

The sentiment was there, you suppose, touched by his concern for your emotional wellbeing.

“The night before, the night we met too, he gave me coupons to take Hyemi out to eat… I wonder if he knew… he said said he loved us… and it sounded so sad… even knowing that would be last time we got to say that to each other… I wonder if he expected this to happen…”

“Besides that… I just don’t want Hyemi to see me like that…” You say finally after a moment of silence, “I want to be strong for her. It might just seem like its the end if I can barely hold myself up, you know?”

He understood that.

“Enough of the sad talk, you might actually make me cry you jerk.”

You both continued to talk, and you were grateful for his presence. Although you both butted heads, quite a lot actually, you let him whisk you away from thinking about your father and the situation just for right now. You let him lead the conversation, talking about some of the disgusting things he’s seen as a part of the homicide unit, talking about how he’d gotten his adoptive brother to calm down and even get a girlfriend despite his stigma against women, talking about how Hoseok nearly set their apartment on fire trying to make stir fry one night.

Yoongi didn’t notice how you both drifted off naturally, the lights still on and the television still running with the late night shows. His eyes blink away the remnants of sleep when a hand shakes his shoulder. Adjusting to the lights still on, he almost forgets where he was before he’d fallen asleep, Hoseok’s smirking expression coming into view as the younger points to the pressure on his shoulder. He doesn’t even need to look to know that you’ve fallen asleep on his shoulder, your body shifting slightly to curl closer to him, the upright position no doubt uncomfortable for your back and neck.

Don’t even think about it, his eyes glare back at his partner who wiggles a suggestive brow, but still helps him remove you from his side and tuck you into a more comfortable position.

Yoongi doesn’t want to look at you, but he steals a peek at your calm expression, heart picking up in speed as he reaches out to brush his palm over your head.

The next morning, your neck is slightly uncomfortable for a reason you don’t know, but you choose to ignore as you cook breakfast for the day.

“How is it over there, get some good sleep?” You ask as Hyemi’s face bobs around the screen at the excitement of your video call in the morning.

“Mhm, they’re really nice to me, Naeun is really cute, you should meet her!”

You never really knew the names of your two half siblings, that were biologically only Hyemi’s half siblings, but the awkwardness in what to call your supposed mother and her kids made your head hurt. The girl shifts the phone to show ‘Naeun’ who looks both shy and confused at your form cooking breakfast and still glancing at your phone propped up against a roll of paper towels.

“Hi?” You manage as Hyemi giggles and the camera is pointed back on her face. In the background, you can hear voices as your sister nods to the speaker before turning back towards you.

“I’m getting dropped off to school now, let me know if I can get my uniform soon! I miss you unnie!”

Her smile is the last thing you see before the call is ended and you feel slightly relieved. At least she was able to smile. That much was helpful enough to soothe your worries being without Hyemi for an indefinite amount of time.

Yoongi is noticeably stiffer around you today as they receive clearance for yours and Hyemi’s room only. You drop by to pick up some clothes as well as necessities and Hyemi’s things, that you drop off to the latter’s mother’s house. They drop you off at the restaurant you work at while they head back to the precinct and then your apartment again with Jimin and Taeyung.

“We got word back from forensics,” Jimin says as they once again go over the living room, your father’s body replaced by a taped off silhouette, “No prints, not even fragments either, I’m not surprised though, given the proximity he must’ve been shot at.”

“Did you get anything on Hong Suk?” Yoongi asks as they venture into the messy room of your father. The matress was thrown off its frame, planks scattered out of formation. The cubicles of the dresser were yanked out, clothes strewn all over.

“His record is clean from what I could tell, although there was a file involving the mysterious death of their parents. I believe he’s the one taking over her father’s company at the moment.”

“I see, maybe we should pay a visit to the company,” the blonde hums as takes a step and pauses. Crouching down, the younger notices this and comes over as he raps his fist against the floorboards. Running his finger over the floor, he catches a noticeable square patch that he pries open to reveal a hidden compartment.

Heroin. Their eyes staring down the plastic bag of the packaged substance.

Was this what the killer was looking for? Why was your father hiding drugs in your home? What was going on?

Yoongi decides to keep the drugs a secret from you. They couldn’t draw too many conclusions from the pack when they returned to the precinct with the package as well as hair follicles that Hoseok had luckily found. He just wasn’t about to break it to you that your father was hiding drugs, it would break you. You obviously had no idea what he did or who had helped out his company, knowing this would only tear you down.

From the restaurant, it’s a walk away from the bar, where you feel an eerie feeling of being watched. You had hurried to work despite the feeling, but the discomfort never left when one customer in particular appears nervous and fidgety around you. He gives you a negative vibe that you try to avoid, but when you glance his way, his eyes are on you before quickly flicking away. He fumbles with his hands quite often, sliding his palms together as if they were sweating profusely.

“Yo-you’re really cute,” He attempts very awkwardly when you take his drink order. You can only internally cringe and simply thank him, the searing eyes of your boss watching you after the scuffle from the other night.

“I’m going to have to politely decline,” You force out when he offers to take you out for a coffee or something, definitely ignoring the way you shift from one foot to another and try to leave.

It doesn’t help that you see him outside the bar, waiting for you, glancing at the entrance as you get into Yoongi’s car hurriedly.

The blonde raises a brow at your frantic state until you point out the man. “That guy was creeping me out today, he was there ever since I started my shift and kept staring at me and insisting that I go out with him.” The memory of his eyes constantly on you made you shiver.

Brown eyes narrow at the fidgety male, glancing over his appearance, watching the way he rubs his hands together nervously before driving away.

“Let me know if he comes back,” he says finally, briefly placing his hand over your head. A gesture that you’re thankful for.

“Did you find out anything new today?” You ask the inevitable question when you both have long returned to his apartment and finish up clearing the table from dinner. He helps wash the dishes while you dry. Yoongi almost curses your ability to somehow read the flash of hesitancy that shifts in his eyes. “You found something didn’t you?”

He also curses that he can’t find it in himself to lie to you about the drugs hidden in your dad’s room. It was unneeded stress on your shoulders, but you’re smarter than you let on as you wait for him to answer you. He notices the way you pout, and wills himself to keep a sturdy front, despite his heart exploding with butterflies.

“Stop that, you’re not cute,” He huffs, but if having to live with you for the past three days meant anything, he knew that you wouldn’t quit pestering him, as well as rip him a new one for calling you uncute. “We found a DNA sample in the apartment…”

“And?”

He blinks at you. God you were too smart for your own good.

“...”

“Min Yoongi.”

Oh. That was new. You’ve never referred to him using his full name. He stuffs the thought that he quite likes the way you say his name, even if you were currently annoyed, away.

“No,” He grumbles, ruffling his bangs as he finishes putting away the last of the dishes you towel-dried.

“You promised.”

“I didn’t promise shit.”

Fuck. There’s that face again.

“You’re an ass.”

He snorts, “At least I have one.”

You physically start punching him, although more halfheartedly.

“We found packs of what we presume to be heroin, hidden in a compartment under his bedroom floor.”

All movement comes to a halt. Eyes wide as your hands fall to your sides. This is exactly why he didn’t want to tell you. An array of emotions glimmer in your eyes, he recognizes each stage of realization and hurt and confusion, your lips opening and closing.

“You don’t think… he would never!”

“We aren’t jumping to conclusions, I just knew you would overthink and stress out your little head over it.”

You settle down at his words, shoulders slumping and your hands open and closing at your sides as you look down. Your father would never do such a thing, right? Given your new found knowledge of his mistress, your biological mother, was he resorting to desperate measures from the loss of not one but two women he had loved dearly. Was it the job? Was he trying to pay back his debt through nefarious means? Was this the reason he’s so worn down?

Guilt dug itself into your chest. If only you could’ve done more, if only you could’ve been stronger.

“You weren’t planning on telling me about this?”

Yoongi doesn’t flinch, but his chest squeezes, knowing you would have been upset with him either way. Hair blocks his eyes from searching for the hurt that’s probably found its way onto your expression, he’d only feel worse if he saw it anyways.

“You have plenty to worry about as it is,” He says with a gentle and hesitant hand over your head, “This was exactly what I was trying to avoid, you’re probably blaming yourself right now, aren’t you?”

Curse him for being able to read you so well. Then again, your head hung down wasn’t exactly a connotation that exuded happiness or anything that wasn’t sadness and frustration. Curse him again for inadvertently causing the influx of butterflies trapped in your chest at the slightest brush of his palm over the crown of your head.

“I hate you,” You mutter, glaring up at him weakly.

“You’re so uncute,” He huffs back to your further annoyance.

The thought was appreciated though. He had thought about you, and that warmed you just thinking about it. For now, you frowned at once again being called not cute and leave him to get ready for bed.

Hoseok drops you off at the restaurant the next day after Yoongi heads to the apartment first thing with Jimin and Taehyung.

“How you doing so far?” The brunette smiles good naturedly as he turns on the car.

You never really spoke to Hoseok one-on-one before, but he radiated an easy-go-lucky air similar to Taehyung, if you remember his name right. His smile seemed to calm you down and soften any guard you had up. It was a polar opposite from the limited expressions that Yoongi expressed around you. Limited meaning, deadpan all day everyday, with the occasional frown and annoyed glare.

“I’m holding up okay, I guess?”

He hums at that, “Hyung get on your nerves last night?”

You balk at him, were you two that loud last night? The echo of his words calling you uncute last night haunted you suddenly and you looked away with a pout. It beats you that you mull over the statement rather than his unwillingness to keep you posted on your father’s case.

“He’s an ass.”

“He is,” He chuckles lightly, “But he seems a little more… human around you, you know? It’s quite refreshing.”

“What do you mean?” You ask curiously, interest piqued.

His eyes meet yours briefly as he comes to a stop light, “He’s a little cold, yeah? He’s barely expresses anything other than blank, and he doesn’t even talk a lot unless it’s around Jimin’s girlfriend… but lately he’s been different with you around.”

“Are you sure? He inadvertently called me ugly last night,” You say with a scornful frown.

“Those two share the same wavelength in a way,” He hums nonchalantly, “He’s not entirely socially adept, the same as Jiminie who calls his girlfriend grandma quite often… but that’s beside the point. What do you think of him?”

The question shocks you. What were you supposed to think of him after just a few days spent with him? He teased you, and yet he also took care of you in a way. He made you feel safe and calm despite everything that’s spiraling into hell around you. He made everything just a little bearable. That much you can admit… to yourself.

“You’re cute, you know?” The brunette says, yanking you out of your thoughts with the surprising compliment. He laughs heartily as your cheeks brighten at the sudden proclamation. “Hyung must think that too… ah, looks like we’re here, watch out for yourself heading to the bar after. Give us a call if you don’t feel safe or something happens, yeah?”

Your eyes linger on his carefree smile, huffing as you finally thank him for the ride. There was no point in dealing with thoughts of Yoongi right now, you had to work and just get through the day for now.

Hoseok makes an amused sound before he’s interrupted by his message tone, his eyes tearing away from your form disappearing into the restaurant to appraise his cell phone.

‘The guy who was creeping out (Y/n) last night was snooping around her apartment suspiciously. We took him in for questioning, meet at the precinct after you drop her off.’

A sigh leaves his lips as he sets down his phone to start driving again.

These two are so oblivious, he thinks.

Yoongi sits at the metal table, elbows propped up on the hard surface with his digits laced one over the other, his mouth pressed against his hands. His eyes are hard steel as they gaze down at his files, courtesy of Jimin’s research, before looking up to the fidgety man. The other flinches at the attention, nearly shitting right then and there when the door suddenly opens to Hoseok.

Lee Hoon. The exact same features from the other night, as well as the same habit of rubbing his hands together. He’d thought maybe he had a small creepy crush, but it didn’t even make sense for him to show up at your apartment. Was he a stalker? That night was the first time you’d interacted, right? Had he watched from afar prior? Followed you home?

The thought made him more irritated than he expected as he skims over the details of him being an employee at your father’s company.

Oh.

Under his scrutiny, the poor guy’s ready to wet his pants just by Yoongi existing.

“Lee Hoon. Correct?”

“Y-yes.”

“You work under the late (y/l/n)-ssi’s company right?”

“Yes, I was part of the few who stayed after the business fell into debt.”

Yoongi hums as Hoseok’s airy tone seems to relax the suspect greatly. It didn’t lessen the grating sight of his chestnut hue glaring into his very soul.

“Saves us some time, I suppose, we were planning on heading over to the company to ask a few questions about your late boss,” the blonde muses this time, lifting his chin just slightly in indignance, almost gazing down on him, “Might I ask what you were doing lurking around (y/l/n)-ssi’s apartment?”

The man doesn’t answer, but he takes this into stride.

“And at the bar? His daughter mentioned interacting with you, you even stood outside waiting for her.”

“That couldn’t have possibly been me,” He manages firmly, but Yoongi watches his movements carefully, the way his eyes flicker and dilate, even the slightest bit, “I’ve never spoken to or seen his daughters before.

“Mm, I see,” Hoseok hums, noting how riled up his partner is more than usual, “Let’s back track a little bit shall we? While working under (l/n)-ssi, was there any malicious intent… or well any negative blood from other workers?”

The man shook his head, “Not that I’m aware, Sir was a good man and an attentive boss as well. Everyone spoke highly of him, even as the company took a nose dive. He worked harder than the rest of us.”

That was no lie. His hand rubbing never seized out of anxiety, but he had visibly perked at the question.

“I see,” Hoseok nods at the information, before he laces his fingers underneath his chin, a cheshire smile curling at his lips, “I don’t suppose you know what comes with being indicted for homicide, do you?”

“Capital Punishment.” The two words are broken apart with heavy pauses for emphasis as he watches the man squirm uncomfortably, “His poor daughters are left without a father, nor an acting mother… I can only imagine the monster who was involved in such thing, how he’s able to live with himself and touch his wife and kids without a single remorse. Even the sick person who would be such a monster’s accomplice, guilty by association amirite?”

“It really beats me,” Hoseok smiles kindly, as Jimin and Taehyung shiver through the one-way mirror.

“Hyung can be really scary sometimes.” The brunette rubs his arms, goosebumps littering his skin as Jimin makes a noise of agreement. The guilt that spills over Hoon’s face is evident, especially when facing Hoseok’s sardonic smile.

“He’s happy go lucky, but really, he’s two-faced,” Jimin blows a raspberry, “You’d think he’s on your side, but that makes it all the more easier to manipulate you into his hands.”

They immediately clamp their mouths shut as Hoseok continues to coax the man into spilling, that damned smile never leaving his lips. Anyone would see the smile of an angel, they saw the smile of a wolf in sheep’s skin.

That side of the older detective never really came out often, but it never failed to make the two youngest uncomfortable, the hair on the back of their necks rising. Normally playful and bright walnut eyes turned dark and cynical, no space for mercy or the kindness that feigned on his curled lips.

“Hong Suk killed him! I-I, he brought me long to find the girl, and take the drugs he still had, but… but I couldn't find it… and he sent me back or else he’d kill me and my family!”

Did he mean you? They all thought, perking up at the statement.

Yoongi takes a break from the interrogation, leaving the room to greet Taehyung and Jimin on the other side of the one way mirror. He nods firmly to them, as he slips out his phone to check the time.

“Picking up your girlfriend?” Taehyung sports a small smile despite just finding out your father’s killer. His partner elbows him with a slight frown.

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“But you like her?”

Taehyung takes his silence as a yes. The blonde’s eye twitches in annoyance, “She’s my case.”

“That you have feelings for?”

“Taehyung I swear to God,” he frowns, directing his attention to Jimin who looks like he’s thinking way to hard.

“Her being your case is different from liking her, hyung. I mean, I had always thought of my girlfriend as being nothing more than my case… I guess I didn’t realize until late that she meant a lot to me. You know… ‘cause Jungkook got to her before I could.”

“Invalid,” he deadpans. “I met her three days ago, I do not like her. That’s highly inappropriate.”

“That’s like saying Jimin’s relationship is inappropriate,” Taehyung snickers to Jimin’s annoyance, followed by a weak punch to his arm.

“We got together after I closed her case, you ass.”

“Still inappropriate,” The blonde shuts down once again as the door to the interrogation room opens.

“But you find her cute, no?” Hoseok smiles as he emerges from the room, glancing slyly back through the mirror to see the man reduced to trembles and holding his head in his hands.

“Did you break him Hobi, what the fuck?” Jimin balks, but the brunette ignores the younger’s statement.

“Yoongi, you can’t possibly tell me that you have no dick and didn’t feel anything when you both fell asleep two nights ago on the couch with (Y/n) wearing your shirt.”

The reaction is spontaneous. Taehyung and Jimin gasping none too dramatically as they bat their eyelashes in his direction, but he’s already turning around to hide the heat tinging his ears.

“Great, I have no dick, now fuck off I have to go pick her up from work,” He responds icily, shutting them up with a finishing glare over his shoulder.

Liar. They all, even he himself, thinks.

Fuck.

Is his last coherent thought however as the shift supervisor explains to him that you had stepped out for lunch but never came back, your things still there as well as your phone left on the pavement in the back.

Everything comes crashing down, and despite his steel-like expression, he’s actually panicking and terrified.

“Hoseok!” Yoongi’s voice strains into the phone, heart pounding in his ears as he jams the clip of the seat belt into the buckle. Dread is building up in his system, forehead breaking out into a sweat.

‘I got it hyung, don’t worry, he spilled the location of Hong Suk and his plans on kidnapping (Y/n), we’ve got our units ready to head out, I’ll send you the location.’

You feel sick to your stomach. Still dressed in your work clothes, body very inconveniently tied to the chair. When you had finally come to, confused and lethargic, he was there, watching you, eyes gleaming with an emotion you weren’t sure you even wanted to know - was… was that drool? The sight of slick falling from his mouth causes your stomach to lurch.

“Finally awake?”

Your mind is all over the place, barely able to concentrate, shaking off the remnants of being knocked out. For now, you didn’t know where you were, or who this man was. It didn’t even help being bound to your seat.

“You know your father left behind a real hefty debt you know? With him gone… who’s gonna repay me for saving his business?”

All thoughts come to a screeching halt when he steadily approaches and you become more aware of the room you’re in and the man - your assumed kidnapper. He wasn’t the one who had approached you at the restaurant if you remember correctly before you were knocked out. It looks no more than a regular bedroom consisting of: a bed with a pink comforter set, some stuffed animals, a desk with photo frames, a vanity, and a closet. It was the average girl’s room. And the man? Tall, (e/c) eyes that were wide as they scraped over your form, his body clad in slacks and a white dress shirt and tie.

“What are you gonna do about it? Eldest right? And an illegitimate child at that,” his voice grates, saccharine sweet but more like needles in your ears.

“How do you kn… D-don’t fucking touch me!”

Is what you would’ve said if it weren’t for the tape over your mouth.

You wanted to lean away as far as could, nearly gagging as his hands reached out to caress your face. A blissed sigh comes from his almost manic smile, tension releasing from his shoulders as his fingers drag down lower, the curve of your neck, then over your shoulder. Your body trembles, the sense of fear filling you.

Stop, stop, stop, you think, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

Which he does to your surprise. His face comes closer this time, too close for comfort that his breath wafts over your face. You turn your head with a scrunch of your nose and he expects this, gripping your jaw harshly in his hand and whipping your head towards him.

Where was Yoongi? Where were you?

“Did you even know? Your father fucked over a really important person to me you know. Drove her insane, killed her.” He whispers the last part at the shell of your ear, back away slightly to gauge the shock that morphs your face. Relishing in the way your brain works to piece together the puzzle, eyes darting as you analyze his face and the picture frames on the desk beside you. One in particular is of a family, a girl you recognize and a boy and their parents. The faces of their parents, scratched out with a permanent marker however.

The man laughs. Covering his face with his hand as he bends at the waist, keeling over and shaking with euphoria at your expression.

“Hah look at your face! Didn’t know that did you? Didn’t even know who your real mother was. You and your father. You killed her! My beloved sister. She was my world. My everything. But she was stupid. Falling for a business man like your father and leaving me, her beloved little brother by himself. Was pretty easy to take down his company to be honest. Lawsuits? Childsplay.” His eyes peek through the slits of his fingers, leering down on you.

“Which brings me back to my point, my cute little niece. What should I do with you? Not like I have any use for you anyway. I’ve got what I wanted, your father out of my way, and his business is now mine. Simple right? But don’t think you’ll be able to go after hearing all this, quite silly don’t you think? Where’s your little sister? She doing okay? Doesn’t matter.” He’s talking quickly, erratically, and you can barely keep up as he steps around the room with his hands gesturing wildly before coming to a stop. Eyes turned toward you, pointing almost accusingly, “You. You got her blood, her face, everything. Should I keep that for myself? God I wanted her to be mine, only mine, she was mine until your father stole her from me.”

Circling around you, he reaches out to tangle his hands in your hair. You yelp against the tape, scalp burning at the pull. He ignores the sound and instead sniffs the lock of hair and sighs blissfully. Yanking your head to the side, his nose presses to your neck, slithering his nasty tongue down your length as you struggle and attempt to shout against the tape over your mouth.

His nail drags across your neck slowly, harsh and painful, as though he were scraping off your skin.

“Or how about I harvest your organs? I’ll keep your cute little head, fuck, you look just like her, it’s getting me a little... excited. It’s been too long since I’ve seen her.”

Tears pour from your eyes, breathing as much as you can through your nose before it’s all cut off when his fingers dig into your neck.

“But you’re not her, you could never be her! Why did you have to be born? Why did you have to kill her?” Anger burns in his eyes, nearly spitting in your face as he accuses you. Your arms attempt to thrash against the bindings, nails biting into your palm as his bite into your throat.

Your vision is starting to thin, blurring before he stops at the abrupt echo of the doorbell. There’s barely enough time to register what’s happening, your ears ringing at the sound of gunshots and shouting. The door to the room was thrown open, but Hong Suk had already retrieved a knife and placed it at your neck, other hand yanking your head back by your hair.

“Let her go Hong Suk.” That’s Yoongi’s voice. You blink multiple times, trying to focus on the figures that seem to melt together in your haze. Yoongi’s face is blurry, but you recognize the frown that marrs his pretty face, fire in his eyes when he takes in the state you’re in.

“Isn’t she cute?” Your biological uncle grins, taking a long sniff of your hair bunched up in his hands. He takes extra care in dragging his tongue over your cheek, revelling in the way the blonde growls.

“I was thinking of experimenting on her too, reduce her to a begging little bitch once she’s gotten a taste of this,” his eyes dart to the plastic bag of needles on the desk, causing the blonde to stiffen.

I’m gonna kill him, Yoongi bristles, to which Jimin notices and nudges him subtly but keeping his aim trained on the deranged male. It was no use for him to get worked up, you were being held captive, it only mattered now to extract you without getting you hurt or even killed.

“How’d you find us?” He asks flippantly, pressing the knife to your neck, but not enough that your skin breaks underneath the sharp edge.

“Your accomplice broke after half an hour.”

A moment passes as he seems to connect the dots and figure out just who they were referring to.

“That useless piece of shit! I should’ve killed him earlier!” He fumes at the realization, “Couldn’t find the drugs or the girl, making me do all the dirty work.”

Hoseok notices the dart of Hong Suk’s eyes, licking his lips carefully. “Put down the knife, you’re surrounded with no one coming to help you.”

He’s was right, and even the man knew that as he forced down an anguished sigh as he let the knife falter and his hands raise above his head in defeat. There was no use in resisting when every gun in the room pointed at him.

Even when he did make a jolt for the gun lying in wait nearby, Yoongi was quick to put a bullet through his hand, causing the man to fall to the floor, clutching his wrist with a pained cry.

Yoongi comes rushing to your side outside after detaining Hong Suk and others in the home, other officers currently searching the home for anything pertaining to the heroin found in your father’s room.

You sit on a gurney by the ambulance, finishing up the last of the check up from the paramedic. Your eyes finds his, examining his distraught expression, heavy with guilt at the same time. This was more of Yoongi than you’ve ever seen. The anger and disgust directed at Hong Suk, the subtle relief when you were extracted safely. So many emotions in one man, that you never knew he could experience when he appeared rather cold during your first meeting.

“Thank you, for everything,” You smile wearily as he makes his way over to you, placing a fond hand over your head. When had that become your guy’s thing? Especially after barely a week of knowing one another.

“Just shut up for a second,” he mumbles softly, his other hand balling into a tight fist at his side. The hand on your head slides back to press your face against his neck. His heart beats and he lets out a long sigh of relief. All the tension from earlier dissipates.

“You did well, you were so strong, and I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you sooner… and let him touch you like that...”

“You’re here now,” you mutter meekly, pursing your lips as you inhale the calming scent of his body wash.

“I am,” his voice replies lightly, a slight hint of a chuckle but not quite.

Nothing changes that fact that you still stay at Yoongi and Hoseok’s apartment for a while longer, although you grow busy with handling your father’s cremation and funeral (an event that has you and Hyemi crying nonstop) and the court proceedings leading to the indictment of Hong Suk and his accomplices. Your father’s company had ended up being stripped, with Hong Suk as the acting head, he’d used it to further his drug production and distribution and organ trafficking (which is overturned to the narcotics unit and NIS respectively). Not that you could’ve done anything if you had inherited the company from your father.

Yoongi finds you in your apartment looking through old photos of you, Hyemi, and your father. Most of which were pre-bankruptcy since your quality time together had taken a nose dive and joyful memories just weren’t made anymore.

“What do you plan on doing from now on?” You look up, he’s there in casual clothing, hands shoved in his pockets of his slacks. Wow. The thought bubbled in your head, heart beating just a tad faster. He had always looked good to be honest, from the first you had met him on his post-date commute home, and when he came to watch you at the bar. Denim jeans and a plaid flannel over a plain tee? So simple and still drool worthy.

Okay.

No.

Not drool. The thought made you shiver, remembering Hong Suk that day.

Then you remember that you haven’t answered his question yet and you’re basically checking him out at this point while having an eternal thirst-driven panic.

“I don’t know to be honest,” You finally start shakily, brushing your fingers over a picture of your father tossing little Hyemi into the air, a huge smile on his face. His face was youthful and lively, no worries in the world and simply content. “My apartment is trashed and I don’t even know if I’d feel like staying here again when my dad’s gone and having to pay for rent and groceries by myself. I can’t have Hyemi staying with… her mom for too long as well.”

A moment passes and Yoongi takes a deep breath, soothing his nerves temporarily as he takes a determined step up to your side.

“What about staying with us… permanently?”

Your head snaps up to his, eyes widening a fraction as his warm gaze stared back. Heat rises to your cheeks, breaking the stare to look down at the frame in your hands with furrowed brows.

“That’s nice Yoongi, but I’m sure I’ve overstayed what’s acceptable of just a case, and I’ve got Hyemi too, your apartment is two roomed as well... ”

“You’re not just a case anymore,” He says simply when your voice finally falters.

“Why are you so concerned?”

Ouch.

You got him there.

His eyes narrowed slightly, trying to read your tone and expression, but you refused to look up at him. Especially with your cheeks burning, you kept your head down. Were you teasing him? You had asked the same thing that night as well.

“Don’t make me say it.”

You prove your point by moving to leave, setting down the frame promptly as you did so, when his fingers wrap around your wrist to tug you back towards him..

“I hate you.”

You deadpan, “Very concerned, thank you for the past month Yoongi, but I should start figuring out what I’m going to do with my and Hyemi’s life.”

The utter frustration is so palpable in his low groan, you were so stubborn and he fucking loved it.

“We’ll find a bigger place to stay (Y/n), we’ll take care of you two, you can quit that stupid bar job, start school again, you can rely on me.”

“Why?”

God you were such a brat. His fingers squeeze your wrist briefly, hardened mocha staring into your own before he glances away.

Do it.

It’s now or never.

“I like you, you stupid brat,” He finally admits. It had all pieced together that he stopped seeing you as a case to close. Although his time with you was short, way shorter than Jimin’s case with his own girlfriend, he fell face first into your charms. Annoying, but still goddamn charming.

You look up at him, lip trembling as this flatten into a frown and you’re furrowing your eyebrows up at him, “You don’t mean that. I’m troublesome and bratty, all just like you said. We just met weeks ago, I only stayed with you because there was no other option and… and now you want us to stay with you… permanently? Why would you go so far? For someone like me?”

“I’m doing this ‘cause your sister’s cute,” He deadpans, and you almost take him seriously when he jabs your forehead with his index, “Fuckhead, did you not hear me? I like you.”

“Yoongi..” You gasp obnoxiously with a hand covering your mouth, “I didn’t know you were a pedophile.”

“I take it back, I hate you,” He grunts, “My offer still stands, we’ll take care of you, I’ll take care of you.”

Fuck.

Were you crying?

Were you seriously about to cry because of him?

He anticipates this and looks away while casually opening his arms to beckon you close. Although, he wasn’t expecting you to throw yourself, face first, into his chest. His palm settles over your head in that way he does that emits a sense of security that just calms. You don’t know what it is about him patting your head, you were no dog, you just liked it. A lot. You liked him. A lot. That much was evident with the creeping blush dusting over your cheeks.

It never helped either when you found yourself gradually nuzzling back against the pressure of his hand, urging him to keep his palm there. If you ever did get addicted to something, it would be the bubble of feelings that erupt in your chest, the quickening pace of your heart when he’s around, the glow of your cheeks when he’s got you so very flustered.

“Is this how you flirt?” You ask when you finally calm down, as though you weren’t just smothering your snot and tears in his shirt and coddling his hand like a mutt, “Pick up a girl off the street and ask her to live with you. No dates. You’ve skipped quite a lot of bases.”

“I didn’t pick you off the streets you brat, I picked you up when you fainted here.”

“Okay listen, I don’t need to remember that.”

“Busted through the officers at the door like an absolute badass, can you imagine how exasperated I felt when I realized this was your apartment, especially after our encounter the night before?”

“Even now is kind of not the best way for me to confess my feelings like a stupid teenage boy, but you’re so fucking stubborn.”

“What do you even like about me?”

“Despite being annoying, and a brat with no ass, and absolutely fucking stupid--”

“I don’t even think you like me, you bitch, stop insulting me.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you, not even when we first met, I could only think about that dumb brat who managed to find trouble in an alleyway just begging to be kidnapped. To be honest. This was how Jimin found his girlfriend… he took on her case when she’d finally woken up from a coma… they didn’t necessarily like each other at first but he’s crazy about her. And I thought, fuck, this couldn’t be happening to me. This is a case, keep it professional. But then my dumbass offered you my shirt that night. You cooked for us. You’re so incredibly stubborn and hardworking, just for your sister and father, its admirable, I would go through the same for Jimin if I were in the same situation to be honest. When that bastard got to you before we could, I was scared. So fucking scared. He touched you, and I wanted to shoot him dead.”

He composes himself, emotions gone out of control just remembering the fear that built up inside him at the realization that you were gone and in the hands of the man who ordered your father’s death. Even Jimin had been surprised to see Yoongi directing more emotion than usual, especially when it didn’t have to do with his girlfriend.

“Tell me it’s the same for you,” he whispers softly, so soft, you’re not sure he spoke. But he’s slightly embarrassed at his own courageousness and cheesiness.

Your words fail you. Taking his hand on top of your head in your own hands, his heart jumps in his throat, were you going to reject him? After he finally stripped himself of his usually cold demeanor and calm facade? He was basically pouring his guts out in front of you, almost desperate to keep you with him when you’re the only girl, other than Jimin’s girlfriend, he’s expressed more than grimaces and frowns at. His heart pounds, like he’s fucking dying, palms clammy. He wanted to deny that he was ever attracted to a brat like you, but everything felt too domestic and he found himself caught in the snare of your fiery determination to work hard for your father and sister.

He’d always thought that maybe he’d settle with a girl just as quiet as he was, collected, feminine, the type that he’d let dote on him and take care of him. But as you press a kiss to his cheek, the skin flaring with heat, he’s floored.

“I might like you too…”

Safe to say that the boys won’t let Yoongi hear the end of it when he casually mentions that he and Hoseok found a new apartment with three rooms. He doesn’t even imply or mention your name and they’re hooting and hollering, Namjoon coming out of his office to join in on the fun to his exasperation.

Please I needed this bonus ending:

You’re helping Hyemi organize her room, opening up the cardboard boxes with her things from your old apartment. Folding clothes and putting them into her dresser, you hum in response as she talks about the recent drama at school. You had sucked it up and thank her mother for taking care of her, stiffly smiling when she reminded you that she cared for you no matter what. It was just not an option at the moment to be able to forget how she abandoned you three. But you were still grateful that she took care of Hyemi for the past month, even with two kids of her own and new husband.

“Mind if I steal her for a second Hyemi?”

A chirp comes from your sister in response and you barely have to look up to know that it’s your boyfriend. She shoos you when you make a face at her, giggling behind her hand as you cast scowls at her while Yoongi leads you towards your shared room.

Despite only sleeping together once, on the couch at that, you could never get over the idea of jumping head first into a relationship and sleeping in close quarters immediately. Although, Yoongi had politely offered that he slept on the couch until you felt comfortable enough to sleep together. You were grateful for that, although he didn’t waste a second to tease you about being a middle school brat who couldn’t handle sleeping with a man, because hormones. In which you promptly dragged him to the bed to sleep together for the first time, although you could barely sleep a wink when he was just right there, breathing and existing.

“Idiot, go to sleep, I can hear you overthinking,” He had whispered towards your back, voice raspier than usual and you just want to slam the pillow over your face and kindly die. It’s safe to say that he silently splayed his hand cautiously over your stomach, dragging you backwards until he’s flush behind you. Yoongi had waited until you protested or even moved away, but you relaxed against him, listening to your hearts beat in tandem and enjoying the way his thumb circling over your stomach soothingly.

Hoseok finds you two the next morning and made it his mission to take a picture and send it to the other guys. A fact that Yoongi beats him up for.

Getting the new place, Yoongi had teased you endlessly about being fine with bunk beds since you were still a brat and could not handle your hormones around him. To which you punched him and demanded that one bed was fine, unless he couldn’t stand sleeping beside you without popping a hard one.

Your room is for the most part put together, some boxes of miscellaneous items still yet to be put away.

“What did you need?” You ask, not even realizing why he even needed to steal you from helping your sister.

“Nothing, really…” Arms wrap around your body and he’s pressing himself behind you, engulfing you in his warmth with his face tucked into the side of your neck. You weren’t convinced but he didn’t make any moves to say any more or move from his position.

“Yoongi.”

“Don’t make me say it,” he huffs.

“Yoongi.”

“Fuck off brat.”

He really just wanted to hold you in his arms after helping out Hoseok set up the living room and kitchen, but you’d just have to make him spit it out.

*I suddenly want to write one for Hoseok with the way I portrayed his character here... I also thought about just writing spin offs for the rest of the boys too. Minus JK, but then if I did... I do have a idea for him. :’) Just some afterward thoughts.

Just some tidbits of small details I added but weren’t really too important, but I wrote them in thinking they would be lol:

I had mentioned in Hong Suk’s file that there’s a case found on the mysterious death of his and reader’s mom’s parents. He killed them. It’s not an important fact that I incorporated, but it was an idea to further that he had a sister complex and obsessed over her to the point of killing his parents when he felt threatened.

It was implied, but to make ends meet, Reader’s father dealt the drugs that Suk made - as a part of repaying him and manipulation out of guilt when Suk revealed to Reader’s father of his ties to Reader’s biological mother. It’s a small detail that didn’t have much importance, but I thought I would allude to the lengths the father would go to.

I realized lol that Hyemi wasn’t present for the rest of story, her role was only meant as the reason why Reader works so hard and keeps her emotions in check for the most part. Made her stay at her mom’s house because. PLOT. LOL I wasn’t just about to have Yoongi only give his clothes to reader and her sister is like tf am I?

I also tried to down play the attraction because they literally just met, but its a romance fic so there is still an attraction between the two and Yoongi just finds himself drawn to wanting to protect her especially when he admires her for being strong despite always getting on her nerves. The same goes for Reader who finds comfort with Yoongi protecting her when she stopped having someone to dote on her and protect her. Obviously I accelerate that by having a small time skip in the end where she still stays with them during the indictment and funeral service, so Yoongi and Reader are around each other for a little longer to develop more feelings. It’s just implied but I couldn’t find any other way to write it in lol...

I didn’t find a good place to mention in the bonus, but Reader will visit her biological mother’s cemetery at the crematorium. I’d like to say this may or may not be the same one that Interference’s MC’s family resides at, but well it’s just an idea. Despite not knowing her, she still pays her respects. Eventually, she comes around when Hyemi’s mother makes it her purpose to call every now and then to check on them. She was trying at the very least, especially for Hyemi, and it still never changed the fact that she grew up with her as her mother and not her own biological one.

Anyhoot! Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed and please let me know what you think!!

#don't even ask me why i wrote this much i cry #i shit my bowels out of me into this story lolol #no beta we die like men today #interference #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts x you #bts scenario #bts imagine #suga x you #suga x reader #suga scenarios #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #min yoongi scenarios #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #kpop fanfic #bts au

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cozywritings · 4 years

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Stitches ch 10: Call It What You Want

Thursday afternoon, the day Shawn would be returning to campus, you were in his room working on getting it set up for him. You were stocking up the snack drawer and refilling the mini fridge when your phone went off, the photo of you and Shawn on the carriage ride illuminating the screen. “Hey bubs!” you answered, glad to hear his voice.

“Hey there gorgeous, what are you up to?” he asked as you put the phone on speaker so you could start folding the laundry you had done for him.

“Nothing really, just some laundry and watching Netflix.” you smiled, picking up the Crossfit hoodie he loved and slipping it over your head after tossing your shirt onto the desk chair.

You heard some honking on Shawn’s end of the phone, “Well I just wanted to let you know that I just left the airport, I should be there in about two hours with this traffic.” he let out a chuckle, knowing it’s only thirty miles from LAX to campus, put Los Angeles traffic was awful. “James came home two days ago, he is doing a lot better.”

“Oh that’s amazing babe, I knew he’d be okay. I told you, there’s something about you that heals people just by being around them. I can’t wait for you to get here. I’ve missed you baby.” you smiled, even though he can’t see you.

You heard him laugh as the clicking of his blinker could be heard. “I’ve missed you too, just wanna cuddle up with you, maybe take you to dinner or something. How are you doing, though? I know you had an episode and called Rudy, because he asked me what he should do.”

You bit your lip, honestly you still weren’t doing too well, Josh had been trying to talk to you every time he saw you on campus, and when Kyle or Cheryl weren’t around, he would walk right up to you and say something crude. “I’ll be better when you’re here. We can talk about it when you’re not focused on driving, but yeah we got some food and just sat on the beach and talked until I’d calmed down. Also, we are invited to game night at his place this weekend if you’re up for it.”

Shawn let out a hum of approval, “Okay babe, that sounds good. That way I can thank him for taking care of you while I was gone. I’ll be there soon okay? I love you so much, gorgeous. I’ll see you soon.” You smiled and said your goodbye before hanging up and crawling into his bed. It smelled more like you than Shawn now, but that’s because you slept in there almost every night. Sure it sounded clingy, but it kept you calm after a day of Josh harassing you and classes being pretty tough. Turning up the movie you’d put on, you wrapped yourself up in the heated blanket, the warmth easing your cramps, and within no time you were asleep.

-----

You were asleep when Shawn walked in, still curled into the blankets, so he dropped his bags on the floor, kicked off his shoes, and slid in behind you. He could tell by the fully stocked snacks and the still warm blanket that you were on your period, so he didn’t try to wake you. He was exhausted himself from the trip and the past two weeks, so he decided to place a kiss to the back of your neck and wrap an arm tightly around you, but the second you felt the bed dip, you were awake.

“Missed you.” you mumbled, adjusting the blanket and pushing against him to feel his warmth. He chuckled, throwing his legs over you and kissing along your shoulder, causing you to laugh. “Shawn, stop that tickles.” But he didn’t let up, just held you tighter and continued.

“Gotta tell me you love me.” he demanded, “And agree to a date with your boyfriend.” you smiled, grabbing his wrists.

You let out a squeal when he kissed along your neck, “I love you so much Shawny, yes I’ll go on a date with you!” You laughed and he stopped, letting you catch your breath. “But first, can we just lay here?” You asked, already rolling over and nuzzling into his neck.

He nodded, arms coming up to rub your aching back. “Of course, my love. Been wanting to do this for days, I missed you so much. But it was nice to see my friends and family, mom says she wants to meet you soon and James seems to think you’re some sort of angel for getting me to fall in love with you.” You pulled back to look at him. “I had a really bad relationship in high school and when it ended I swore I wasn’t going to dating until I had graduated college. But then I met you and all that went out the window.” He leaned down and kissed you softly, god did you miss his lips.

When he pulled away you whined. “Two weeks without you and that’s all the kisses I get?” you asked and he laughed before leaning back in for a few more kisses. “That’s much better.” you sighed, hugging him to you.

“So, would you like me to take you to dinner and a movie, or we could make a run to Target and get new pj’s and a bunch of snacks and come back and watch movies here?” Shawn asked, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You thought about it for a minute, lips pressed to his chest. “As much as I love a reason to get pretty and go out, I’d much rather have option two, please.” you smiled. He already knew you’d say that, but he asked anyways.

“Then let’s get going shall we? Target awaits.” He sat up, pulling you with him before realizing you were only wearing his hoodie. A soft smile appeared on his face at how cute you looked, hair messed up from your nap, the olive colored hoodie brushing against the middle of your thighs, toenails freshly painted his favorite color. “Aww baby, fuck you’re adorable.” he mumbled before tossing you your jeans from the floor.

---

The harsh lights of Target hurt your eyes as you browsed the candy options, Shawn walked up and put some drinks and a box of popcorn in the basket You grabbed a few candy options and tossed them in as well. “We just need to make a stop down the hygiene aisle. I’m uh… running low.” you whispered, looking at your feet.

“Already got it covered.” you heard Shawn say and saw him pick up a box of organic pads from the basket. “I grabbed them while you were looking at the fuzzy socks. I like to keep some in my medical drawer in case you need them.” He smiled at you, and in your hormonal state and due to the past few weeks, you began crying in the candy aisle. “Oh baby, no.” he cooed, coming around to cup your face. “Here,” he said handing you the keys to the jeep and some cash. “Go get us a pizza from the front and go sit in the car, the portable heating pad is in the glove compartment. I’ll grab our pj’s and be out there in a few minutes, okay?”

You sniffled, taking the items and kissing the palm of his hand. “The pink silk ones.” You told him, reminding him of the set you saw walking in, but didn’t grab because you couldn’t choose between those and the black ones. He nodded, kissing your head and watching you make your way to the front of the store.

Now settled in the car, your pizza in the back seat, and the heating pad against your lower back, you closed your eyes. You felt bad that when Shawn came back from a stressful visit home, you were on your period, but he told you it was perfectly fine, he was just happy his friend was healthy and he could come back to you with good news.

There was a sound outside that startled you, and your eyes shot open to see Shawn trying to open the door and you laughed. You’d forgotten that you’d locked the doors and you had the keys in the ignition. “Sorry babe, forgot.” you laughed, after you’d unlocked the door and he got in.

“At least you were being safe.” He noted, setting the bags in the back seat. You grabbed his hand after he pulled out of the parking space and held it tightly. Your silent way of telling him you were grateful for him, but you didn’t want to bring up something. In this case, why you were so stressed out. He nodded, knowing and hummed softly to the radio as he drove.

-----

“Wanna take a bath?” the text read, and your brows furrowed. The bathrooms in your dorms didn’t have a bathtub, they were just a small shower, how on earth were you to take a bath? You opened your phone to answer when Shawn called you. “How exactly are we supposed to take this bath?” You asked.

There was a chuckle on Shawn’s end and you smiled at the sound. “Well, my mom has a bunch of points for hotel rooms from travelling for work and she was going to use them to come down and see me, but since I went up there she won’t be needing them. She just called and asked if we wanted to use them, spend spring break on a mini vacation and a way to destress before we started our finals studying.”

You were honestly about to cry at the gesture, a hotel in L.A during spring break wasn’t cheap either. You came to tour campus during spring break since it was the only time you and your mom were free, and that was pricey, god knows what this will cost. “Tell your mom that I love her.” you laughed.

“So that’s a yes?” he asked, his voice slightly higher in excitement.

“It’s a yes.” You grinned, since Shawn got back, you barely got to see each other. Your classes this semester were demanding, and you didn’t share an elective since you were both now in your focused courses. Plus, since he was gone the first two weeks, Shawn was working to catch up on what he missed, so this couldn’t have come at a better time.

“Good, because I already told her to book it.” He said, relieved. “I’ve got one lecture today and then I’ll come by to pack and pick you up. That sound good babe?” God how you loved Friday classes, so you had time to shower and shave before you left.

“That sounds perfect, I’ll see you soon.” You smiled before hanging up and texting Emily to come help you pick out outfits for this week.

When Shawn knocked on your door, you were all packed and shaved and ready to go. You swung open the door to see him in a pair of black jeans, a floral button down, and sunshades on top of his curls. “Holy shit.” you mumbled, taking in your boyfriend’s appearance and fixing the sundress you’d put on.

“That color looks wonderful on you, my love.” he smiled, looking at the light blue floral dress you were wearing. “You ready babe? Mom said this was also like a, Christmas slash birthday gift so it’s pretty nice. And I told her everything, ya know, about with Josh and stuff and she wants you to know what it’s like to have good experiences with someone. I promise I didn’t share that with everyone, just her. She knows a lot about this kind of stuff and I wanted to know how to treat you better than him.” He was blushing when he looked at you a little embarrassed. You weren’t mad, you figured he’d tell someone because he is always looking for new ways to show affection. You learned very quickly that Shawn’s love language was gifts while yours was touch and quality time.

“I’m not mad babe, c’mon let’s go have a getaway.” You nodded, grabbing your suitcase and locking your door. You were ready to have some time with Shawn before midterms fully took over your lives.

-----

The hotel was 5 star, and you knew she’d used all her points and paid a big chunj of cash for this, you let out a gasp as you walked into the bedroom. “Shawn, this is a lot.” you awed, setting your purse on the bed.

“Mhm” he smiled, hugging you from behind. “It’s the perfect escape from classes. Don’t you think?” he asked, fingers digging into your hips as you nodded. “So, I know we saved up to do something for spring break, but you never decided what to do. And since my mom decided to do this for us. What do you say we take the money we saved.” he started and you looked back at him, walking towards the bed to sit down. “And use it to go to that place you talked about last week?”

You bit your lip, trying to remember what you did yesterday, let alone what you talked about a week ago. Then you remembered, while having a movie night last week you picked Sleeping Beauty, mentioning to Shawn that you wanted to go to Disneyland since it was her castle at the park. “Shawn, you’re not talking about The Happiest Place on Earth, are you?” You questioned and felt him nod.

“Are you telling me my princess doesn’t wanna blow all of our hard earned money at the magical castle?” he smiled, and laughed when you gently smacked his arm, knowing damn well you wanted to go.

Hell, you even had a whole sketch book of dress designs inspired by the princesses. “I’m saying.” you laughed, turing in his hold to face him and cup his cheeks. “What day do we want to go? Because I’m never gonna turn down Disneyland.”

-----

“Babe, ask the balloon guy if he can take our picture!” you suggested, handing him your phone. He smiled, walking over to the man and asking him if he’d take your photo with the castle in the background. You clapped he he took your phone from Shawn’s hands and held out the balloons for you to hold. “I love you so much.” you whispered as you smiled for the camera, Shawn stole a kiss and the man gave a thumbs up to let you know he’d gotten that on camera as well.

Taking your phone back, you squealed at the photos. Both of you with ears on, the castle in the background and the balloons, you couldn’t have been happier. The whole day had been wonderful, you got to meet the princesses, ride all the rides, saw some shows and enjoyed lunch at the Beauty and the Beast restaurant.

When it was time for the fireworks, the two of you made your way to the middle of Main St. hauling all of your merchandise and staring at the sky above the castle. “This was the best day, Shawn. Thank you.” you smiled, getting up on your tippy toes for a kiss. When your lips met his, literal fireworks started going off. You pulled back and laughed, leaning against his chest to watch the show.

A few tears slipped out and Shawn noticed, his arms pulling you tighter against him as he leaned down. “Hey baby, you okay? Is it the amount of people? Your back hurting again, I have your pain meds in your backpack.” You smiled, pressing a kiss to his bicep and shaking your head.

“Happy tears baby, this means more to me than you know. I’ll tell you about it in the way to the hotel.” He nodded, kissing you quickly so you could turn your attention back to the sky.

---

Now in the car, Shawn reached over and grabbed your hand. “So, did my princess enjoy her day at the castle?” He asked and you nodded, bringing your joined hands to your lips to kiss his knuckles.

“I absolutely loved it. And I am sorry for crying so much today, it’s just.” you sighed, watching his face in the streetlights that passed by. “When things got bad, I always told myself I needed to stay here to go to Disneyland. I know it’s stupid, but when you think the world only has sadness in store for you, you want to see happiness. So of course I wanted to make it to the Happiest Place on Earth. You didn’t know that, and today you brought me to a place that meant the world to me.”

You sniffed, noticing you’d pulled into your hotel parking lot. “Baby, you mean the world to me. If there is anything else I can do to show you that you deserve the world and that you deserve to be here, I want you to tell me.” He smiled at you and you nodded. “Now let’s go to bed. The sun drained me today. What do you say to a nice shower before bed?”

“I think that’s an amazing idea.” You smiled, grabbing your stuff and running up to your room.

-----

The drive back to campus seemed so short when you didn’t want to go back. You had just dozed off when Shawn pulled up outside the dorm, “Hey, we’re back honey. Let’s get you up to bed, I’ll come unload everything okay?” He whispered, rubbing your shoulder softly.

“N-no I can bring up the stuff.” You yawned, rubbing your neck that ached from the way you were in the car. He chuckled, handing you your backpack and his duffle bag.

“Okay sweetheart. You take the luggage and I’ll bring up the stuff we got and your suitcase. Deal?” You nodded, stealing a kiss before making your way up to your rooms.

Tossing Shawn’s bag on his bed, you made your way to your own room, fully intending on showering and then taking a nap before starting on finals. While you loved how comfy and soft your bed was, Shawn’s had a heating blanket, and Shawn.

Taking a bold move, you opened your door, dropped your stuff on your desk, and went back into Shawn’s room. You knew Shawn was gonna stop at Em’s room to drop off the stuff you got her from the cady shop on Main St., so you had time to carry out your plan. You stripped in the middle of the room before walking into the bathroom to start the shower, taking out your bun before stepping into the water stream.

You had barely truly bathed the whole week, seeing as you fell asleep the second your head hit the pillow every night. The two of you did something every day, causing you to be exhausted when you made it back to the room, and if you weren’t sleeping, you two were doing other things.

The hot water was amazing, and you could feel the week washing off of you. You also felt the temperature change when the door to the bathroom opened and then when the curtain to the shower was slid open. “I was hoping you’d join me.” You smiled, tilting your head back to rinse out your shampoo. He pressed himself against you, lips ghosting over your shoulder.

“I’ve got postmates on the way, burgers and milkshakes. That gives us half an hour.” His teeth grazed your skin, earning a soft moan. “Then hurry up and get cleaned baby. Been wanting you since we left the hotel.”

---

Curled under Shawn’s heated blanket, naked, you waited for him to return with the food. Once again Shawn had shown you how great he was at pleasing you, and make you feel loved at the same time. You only sat up from your ball of warmth when Shawn came back into the room, carrying a large bag of food and a tray of soda and milkshakes.

“I’d tell you to sleep and we can eat later, but my mini fridge doesn’t keep milkshakes.” He laughed, taking in your tired body and heavy eyelids.

You shook your head and wrapped the blanket around your chest to keep warm. Your sunburn drawing all the heat out of your body. “No I’m good, just exhausted. But I’m also starving!” You reached for a burger, tearing off the paper and taking a huge bite. Shawn followed suit, handing you your milkshake as he swallowed his mouthful of food.

The two of you ate and talked about the events of spring break, agreeing that the best part was getting cliche matching henna tattoos at the pier. “Do you think that we will still get to live together for our last year?” You asked, yawing into your hand. Shawn looked at you shocked, but with a smirk. “I mean. You know. They are about to renew leases and I know that it’s rare for seniors to live on campus because freshmen are top priority.”

Shawn just smiled and laid you down, tucking you in and grabbing a pair of boxers for you to slip into. Once you were both dressed, he got into bed with you, pulling you into him and running his fingertips along your side. “I’m sure we’ll still live close. Get some sleep baby, tomorrow we start studying.” But when we looked down, you were already sleeping peacefully, face squished against his chest.

---

Finals were in a week. Luckily, with the way things were scheduled, you only had one exam a day. So you kept your study schedule from mid terms, staking out in your room and living off of postmates and when Shawn would stop by and bring you something. Occasionally he’d stay and help you study or force you to take a break to relax or let him rub out the knots in your back.

It was Thursday night when Shawn came into your room, a frantic look on his usually relaxed face. “Baby! I don’t know if I can do this! Finals are so fucking important, and if I want to get this shadowing gig at the hospital I can’t get less than a 3.5 GPA. I don’t think I can handle this.” By the time he was done, you could see him tearing up, pulling on his soft curls.

You shot up from your chair, pulling him into a hug that he bent down for, burying his face in your neck. “Shhh baby, come here, let’s sit down.” You could feel him shaking, his hands gripping your waist in a vice like force. “Shawn follow my breathing okay? You’re having a panic attack. You’re okay bub, close your eyes and breathe with me.”

You kept your voice calm, knowing it wouldn’t help if you panicked too. Slowly, you rubbed his back, one hand curled into his hair. “Listen to me, you’ve got a 4.0 already. You’re so smart, you’re graduating med school earlier than almost everyone in the field. You’re overworking yourself baby.” As you spoke, you moved the two of you to your bed, laying down and letting Shawn lay on top of you.

“You’ve been taking such good care of me during studies that you haven’t been taking care of yourself, and I didn’t take care of you. And for that I’m so sorry. Classes are all optional this week due to finals next week, you’re staying here okay?” Your fingernails gently scratched his head and you felt him nod.

He pulled back to look at you, his face blotchy but he had a small smile. “I guess I can skip tomorrow.” You nodded, kissing his head and massaging his temples, you knew he was prone to headaches when he stressed out.

With your lips pressed against his skin, you spoke softly. “You’re gonna stay right here and relax. We can study together and make sure we’re not over-stressing.” You suggested, pressing gentle kisses to his cheeks.

Instead of answering, Shawn placed a hot kiss to your neck, fingers inching up your top. You looked down at him, unsure. “S’not what you think. I just wanna feel you. Wanna feel close to you. Please?” The look in his eyes was so sad, you would let him have absolutely anything he wanted. So you quickly tugged off your top as Shawn did the same. He was eager to feel your skin, he was always a man of touch. It was no surprise that when he was stressed he just wanted to feel you against him.

“Do you need anything babe?” You asked him after a few minutes of silence. You’d never seen him so worked up, you weren’t exactly sure what to do, and you didn’t know if the things that helped you out would help him relax as well.

He shook his head, hugging you to his body. “Just need you. Skin on skin contact really calms me down.” Shawn had always been the strong one in your relationship. The protector. So it was odd to see him look so small and scared.

“Can I go put my notes up and turn off the lamp?” You asked, your voice soft. You felt bad asking to get up when he was so comfortable, but you really didn’t want to fall asleep with your lamp on.

He sat up quickly, eyes darting over to your desk. “Oh shit. You were studying too. I’m so sorry honey, I just couldn’t handle it anymore and I just needed you and-“ you cut him off, putting your hand over his mouth.

“It’s okay Shawn. Just need to put my stuff away so I can put all my focus on you.” He hesitantly rolled off of you, watching as you put your notebooks and study guides away, shutting off your lamp and closing your laptop before stripping down to your panties and turning off the light. The room now only lit up by the string of soft white Christmas lights that wrapped around your headboard and around your desk.

“Those are cute.” He smiled, pointing at them before letting his jeans fall to the floor with a soft thud. “Have I told you lately that I love you?” Shawn asked when you were settled between your sheets.

You let out a giggle and nodded, staring down at him. “You tell me every day bub.” Your lips moving against his jaw as you spoke.

“Well I do. I love you.” Your cheeks still turned pink when he said it.

You closed your eyes and buried your face in his neck. “I love you too Shawn.”

---

It was almost 3am when you jolted awake, Shawn sleeping peacefully next to you, his curls a mess on the soft grey pillow. You took a deep breath, slowing your heart when you saw he was in fact, still there and that it was all a dream. When you let out a choked sob, he grabbed your hand and rubbed his thumb along your knuckles. “It’s just a bad dream honey. Lay back down, I’ve got you Angel.” His voice was thick with sleep and it calmed you instantly as you curled back into him, letting yourself be consumed by him.“Wanna tell me about it?” he asked when you where settled back into him.

You nodded, sniffling “He had tried to convinced you that I didn’t love you and that I was using you. That I really wanted him back. When you didn’t believe him, he got rid of you. It was so real…” another wave of emotions hit you as you remembered what Josh had done to him in the dream.

Shawn noticed your breathing pick back up and began rubbing your back, his nails scratching gently. “Shhh baby it’s not real. I’m right here and I know you love me. I love you. I love you so much.” he repeated. Humming softly until you’d fallen back asleep, he thought about how he was going to ask you something soon.

---

You bursted through Shawn’s door, falling flat on top of him as your way of saying “I’m done.” You’d just finished your last exam of the semester, and you could now relax. At least, as much as you could until transcripts were released. “All done sweetheart?” He asked rhetorically, laughing as you nodded.

“I almost don’t even know what to do now. Oh! And I ummm. I got a letter from Calvin Klein.” Your lips curling into a smirk as you reached into your backpack.

“And!” His voice higher in anticipation of your news.

“And, you’re looking at the newest intern of the New York office upon next years graduation!” you beamed as you pulled your acceptance letter from your bag and placed it in his hand. He hugged you so tight you couldn’t breathe as he pressed multiple kisses against your head.

His smile was wide as he pulled away to look at you with pure happiness in his eyes. “Holy fuck baby that’s amazing! I’m so fucking proud of you, you don’t even know how proud I am. Oh god we have to celebrate. We should throw a party or go on a vacation.” You straddled him as he spoke, watching the pride in his eyes and smiling wide.

“You seem almost more excited about this than I am.” You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck and resting them on his broad shoulders.

He smiled up at you, leaning in for a kiss that you happily gave him, but when you started to pull away, he held you closer to him. “Mmm- move in with me.” He moaned into your mouth. “Got a place off campus. Want you to live with me baby. Will you?” Without even thinking you nodded, pulling away slightly, only long enough to breathe out a “yes.” Before connecting your lips again.

#shawn mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn au #shawn mendes au #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes writing #shawn mendes fluff #shawn writing #college shawn #med student shawn #my fic #stitches

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