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pixieungerstories · 3 years ago

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Quarantine - 2

There was no sign the house had any other occupants for days. I hadn’t been able to drag the mattress out of the room where he had put it. It was heavy and I couldn’t compress it enough to get it through the door.

I went back to working from home. The conference calls helped me feel sane. After a while it was easy to pretend the whole thing was some fever dream. I was pretending, though. I still hadn’t tried to open the closet. Grocery delivery was set on a rotation so that once a week they arrived at the gate. My neighbours had theirs brought right up to the house. Mine were always left at the gate of the picket fence that surrounded the front yard.

I used the hedge trimmers to shape the lilac bushes that the neighbours on each side had planted to obscure their view of my house. I weeded and mowed the lawn wishing for grass seed before just giving up and calling it a meadow. Some of the flowers were even pretty. I chuckled with my friends about how much drywall I was going to need when this was over. We laughed about how it was lucky I was alone instead of having a roommate watching me through the holes in the walls.

Well, they laughed. I sort of more chuckled nervously.

I kept an eye on my laptop battery and there weren’t any unexplained power outages. Everything seemed normal.

Until I was cleaning out the basement and found the wine room. I don’t know wine, but there was a lot of it and the newest bottle that I could find was pre world war two.

I wasn’t expecting it to still be good. It was. It felt ridiculous drinking a hundred year old bottle of red wine with a frozen dinner. I did it anyway.

“Are you still here?” I demanded as I was getting ready for bed.

There was no answer.

I found the box that had my vibrator in it and fell asleep in a sweaty puddle.

I woke up a little hung over and found my vibe squeaky clean on the bathroom sink when I went to brush my teeth. My stomach dropped.

“Were you watching me?” I hissed. I don’t know what sort of reply I was expecting, but I didn’t get one.

Once again, I tried to move the mattress to another room. Once again, I failed. I spent the night wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the floor in the other bedroom, with my laptop plugged in and netflix running to keep me company.

I screamed and stood up when he said from the doorway, “I get lonely too.”

“Jesus Christ!”

He chuckled, “Not even close.” There was a moment of silence as I strained my eyes to see something, anything, in the dark. “I can’t leave either,” he whispered. I stood there shaking in the light from my laptop screen. “Sleep in the bed. I will not bother you.”

I didn’t move. He had just sounded sad when he said it.

“Why can’t I ever see you?” I asked.

“I live in the shadows, you can only see me in darkness.”

I blinked at that. “But you are always here.”

“Yes.”

“And I can’t see in the dark,” I pointed out.

“I know.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I changed the subject. “What do you want from me?”

“When you first arrived, you slept in the garden. If you had started by sleeping in the house, I would have run you off. But you were fixing things, so I let you stay. I got used to you being around. Then you got sick and it would have been so easy to just let you die. I would have gone back to being on my own. I no longer want to be on my own but I hadn’t considered the weight of you being unable to leave. I do not like the idea of you being scared of me and trapped here.”

“But I am,” I mumbled.

“Yes. So take care of yourself. Sleep in the bed. Care for the house. I will stay out of your way.”

I licked my lips. I didn’t want to ask but I had to know. “What were you doing with my vibrator?”

There was no answer. I waited for what felt like an eternity before I continued. “Look, it isn’t a good idea to share sex toys, so depending on where it’s been, I might need to throw it out. I can’t exactly get a new one just now. Please just tell me.”

It was the barest whisper, “I wanted to taste you.”

I froze feeling like a deer in the headlights, completely unsure how to respond to that.

“I have not touched you since you asked me not to,” he argued.

Except for when I almost fell, I thought. You caught me then. And my laptop. I wouldn’t have been able to get a new one of those either. I wondered if soap and water would do it or if I was going to end up with some shadow monster disease. How do you even ask that?

“Ok,” I mumbled. I stood there in the dark and silence. The house was silent. I realized I hadn’t heard rattles or banging or hissing since I learned he was here. “Nyctophobia,” I blurted out.

“I don’t understand,” he replied.

I shifted awkwardly. “Can I call you Nick?”

The silence continued. Then, “Why?”

“Nameless things are more scary. It isn’t as bad having a roommate named Nick.”

He never did answer. Eventually, I sat back down on the floor and wrapped the blanket more tightly around myself. I wasn’t brave enough to walk through a pitch dark house, past a staircase, to get to the room where there was a monster in the closet.

----

There was coffee waiting for me when I got up, and the smell of cinnamon buns baking in the oven. The oven timer said there was 10 minutes left. I peeked inside to find the tiniest pan of monkey bread baking. I recognized the recipe and pulled out the cookbook it came from. Sure enough, in Nick’s careful handwriting was notations about scaling the recipe down to one sixth of how it had been published.

He had used pencil.

“Is this a peace offering?” I asked.

I didn’t get a response, but he did the dishes while I had my bath that morning.

When my groceries were delivered, popcorn had been added to my order.

I didn’t see him. Well, I mean, I never see him, but the only signs of him were things being done and left obviously done while I was bathing or getting dressed. Aside from how nice it was to not do the dishes I appreciated the signs that he was not watching me.

It came as a surprise when I went to put the popcorn in the microwave and the power went out.

“Nick? What are you doing?”

“This isn’t me,” he hissed.

I was lifted and carried squirming through the dark before being pushed into a space and having the door locked behind me. I panicked as I thought I might be in his closet before I realized I was in the wine cellar. Flashes of Edgar Allen Poe stories ran through my mind.

I have no idea how long I was in there, in the dark with my heart pounding as I tried to get the door to open. Eventually, it did.

“All better now,” he assured me, breathing down the back of my neck.

There were a lot of cop cars outside on the street.

“What happened?” I asked. There wasn’t any answer.

A uniformed officer rang my bell, then politely stepped back from my door the requisite six feet.

“Did you hear or see anything unusual last night, Ma’am?” he asked after identifying himself.

Yeah, all the time, I thought. There was still no way to say that and sound sane. I went with a modified version of the truth. “The power went out around 10pm and I ended up stuck in the basement since I couldn’t see the stairs.”

He frowned at me. “Have you noticed anything missing? Any signs of a break in?”

“No? Should I have?”

He appeared to consider this, then stepped further back to look at the state of my house. “There were break-ins all down this street last night. This place might not have been a target.”

“Is everyone OK?” I asked.

“It’s an ongoing investigation,” replied walking towards me again. “I can not disclose anything further, ma’am.”

I swallowed, “That sounds like a no.”

“Do you mind if I come in and have a look around?”

I considered this, “Do you generally advise that women living alone let strange men into their houses? If you are coming to search, I want my lawyer here as a witness.”

He was already peering in around me. The house isn’t that big and the walls were all gone. He could see the whole main floor whether he came in or not.

“Doing some renovations I see.”

No shit Sherlock. “My building permit is posted in my window. I haven’t been able to get trades people out in months but-”

“I'm sure everything is in order with that. Good day.” Then he left. Standing on the porch I could hear him telling the other officers what a shit hole my house was. He thought it should be condemned.

I mean, he was right, still you never like to hear that. And it didn’t need to be condemned. I had the structural engineer’s report to prove it.

I went to work while keeping an eye on the news sites.

It wasn’t break ins. It was looters. The house next to me and the four next to it, all the way to the corner, had been hit. The owners had been found tied up at best and dead at worst with a variety of options in between.

It has escalated all the way down the street.

Then stopped before my house.

“Nick? What did you do?”

He wasn’t talking to me yet.

----

I sat on my bed and waited for the sun to go down. My laptop was in the kitchen. My phone was next to me but set to do not disturb. I waited, straining my ears for any noise.

“Are you there?”

Nothing was said but I was sure I could feel him watching me.

“Please tell me what happened.”

“No one comes into my house,” he snarled.

I swallowed and fought down my fear. “I did.”

“You are different. You are helping.”

I considered that. He had walls before I got here, now he didn’t.

“Am I safe from you?”

“Yes.” It would have been more comforting if he hadn’t growled it.

That was the point where I started to cry. I had made it through everything life had thrown at me without turning into a weepy woman, but that did it. I’m going to blame it on a night of panicking in the wine cellar combined with news reports detailing what had happened to my neighbours.

“Please don’t,” he whispered.

I sniffled. “Fuck. Why don’t I have kleenex?”

A roll of toilet paper was pressed into my hands. I ripped off a length and blew my nose in a way that women in the movies never do, then I jumped as he stroked my cheek with a cool finger, catching my tears. His hand was gone an instant later.

“What if they come back tonight?”

“They won’t,” he said firmly. I don’t think he was talking about the ongoing police presence on the street.

“What did you do?” I sniffled.

“I defended my home. That includes you now.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that. I wasn’t sure that I couldn’t catch glimpses of him as the lights on the street kept flashing. Red, blue, huge black shadow.

“I don’t want to be alone right now,” I whispered.

The bed dipped but when I reached my arm out in that direction all I could find was a long fingered hand to hold mine. “You won’t be.”

I felt him tug at the blankets underneath me and I slid over so he could turn them back. Even in the dark I could find my sleep shirt under my pillow. I stood up next to the bed, stripped and pulled it over my head. Under the covers looking at the ceiling. Red, blue, shadow, red, blue shadow.

“Are you .. human shaped?”

“I can be.”

I snorted, “What kind of answer is that?”

“An honest one.”

I rolled on to my side so that my back was to him, or at least to where I thought he was.

“I can go.”

“Can you stay?”

The weight on the bed changed. “Don’t try to look at me, you will only give yourself nightmares.”

“You said you’ve read Blue Beard?”

“Yes.”

“Have you read Cupid and Psyche?”

He just snickered.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Does any of that apply here?”

“Are you going to try to burn me with an oil lamp?” he teased.

“Are you going to get me pregnant then cast me out into the wilds?” I countered.

He hissed at that, “Never.”

“Never get me pregnant or -”

“I’m not human. We can’t procreate. I can’t make you sick. You can’t make me sick. We can drive each other insane and you will be able to escape someday. I can not leave.”

“Why not?”

“You need to rest. Don’t ask questions with scary answers.”

“How am I supposed to know they are scary?”

“Because you are asking a monster. Now, go to sleep.”

That was the most ridiculous thing but I wasn’t up to arguing about it. Not while there was still an active crime scene next door.

I fell asleep to the feeling of him stroking my back.

----

The only furniture in the bed room was the bed and a few boxes of random stuff I had moved in. I woke to find one of them had been used as a table and was holding breakfast for me. Or at least a travel mug of coffee and a plate of toast. I sat in bed, drank my coffee, ate my toast and read the thirty seven emails from everyone I knew asking what the fuck happened next door.

I ended up posting a blanket statement on facebook that I was fine. I was still in my house. I had no idea what had happened other than what I had seen on the news. Then I posted a picture of the three squad cars I could still see out my bedroom window.

My boss emailed me to ask when he could expect the report I had been assigned, so that took up the rest of my day. It was getting dark when I realized I hadn’t eaten all day. Another freezer meal, some salad and I was raiding the wine cellar again, god damn it!

As I was pouring wine into a coffee mug, he asked me, “Are you drinking alone?”

I got up, took another mug out of the cupboard, poured a second drink and turned off the kitchen light. “Nope. I’m not alone. You’re here.”

He didn’t answer, as I ate my dinner by the light of the street lights outside. The porch light was outside the kitchen window, so I turned it on to wash the dishes then turned it off to go upstairs. It would have been better if I hadn’t stubbed my toe on the bottom step. I swore. Nick picked me up and carried me up the stairs.

“I didn’t have that much to drink!” I protested.

“No, but you can’t see in the dark.” He tucked me safely into bed.

“Did you change the sheets?” I asked. He didn’t answer. “You did, didn’t you?”

My laptop opened and his body blocked the screen for a few moments. Then Brooklyn 99 came on and it was set next to me.

“Why are you doing this?”

“We need a distraction. Call Penny.”

“We need a distraction? We?”

“Yes.”

I hesitated. “Do you need me to move out and camp in the backyard for a few days?”

His reply was a nonverbal roar that rattled the windows and set off a car alarm outside.

There was a commotion then the cops were knocking on my door. I sighed and turned on the lights. I decided to be proactive this time. I flung open the door and demanded “What the hell are you doing out here?”

The cops on my porch blinked.

“I’m trying to sleep! Can you keep the noise down? Please? I know whatever you are doing is important but can you just do it a little quieter?”

“That wasn’t us!” the youngest protested.

“Then can you find out who it was and make them stop?”

To my delight, they left.

I closed the door, smiled to myself and bounced off a wall of darkness that caught me before I rebounded against the door.

“I do not want you sleeping outside!” he growled in my ear.

There were one set of arms around my shoulders and another holding my hips and back. I tried to think of a ‘what big arms you have Mr Wolf’ quip but it died on my lips and the touch was gone in an instant.

“Nick? Can you help me not trip on things on my way to the stairs?”

Hands on my hips, pushing me gently forward and steering me around boxes. Another hand guiding mine to the banister. Then nothing. I carefully inched my way upstairs. I did that awkward thing at the top where you think there is still one more step but there isn’t so your leg falls through nothing and you stumble. To my right was the bedroom, still lit by the flickering screen of my computer.

I climbed into bed and closed it.

Then I opened it, stared at the browser for a moment, then closed it again.

“What’s wrong?”

I considered this. I really had no secrets from him anymore. “I’m anxious and keyed up. I need … some ‘alone time’ but it’s weird if you are watching.”

“Would it be better if I was helping?” he teased.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t know what you are working with. But I feel lonely.”

Gentle fingers took my hand and raised it. The lips that kissed and the tongue that laved were not human. I turned my hand to stroke his face but he leaned away.

That stung. I let my hand fall to the bed. “It isn’t fair that you get to touch me but I can’t touch you.”

He didn’t say anything to that. A car drove past and the headlights lit the room for an instant. Long enough for me to see four glittering eyes watching me, two forward facing and two further to the sides. Not human, I reminded myself. In the darkness, a hand cupped my face, thick lips caught mine and as I kissed him a tentacle like tongue licked at my lips before darting briefly down my throat.

“I can do better than that toy,” he promised, “but you can not see me.”

I nodded. Four hands stroking me over my clothes. A mouth kissing and licking at my neck. I was expecting him to peel me out of my clothes, instead his touch was so feathery gentle. Hands cupped my face as he nuzzled my hair. I strained my eyes trying to see him, but I could catch only the faintest outline. Any time I reached out for him he pulled away. Finally, he got frustrated with that and pinned my hands over my head.

I panicked and pulled my hands away and just like that he was gone.

“Nick?”

I don’t know why I was expecting an answer. I groaned and pressed both palms to my face covering my eyes. I jumped when he caressed my calf, but I didn’t move my hands.

“What are you doing, little girl?”

“Damned if I know,” I admitted. “It’s been … I don’t even know anymore… how long have I been stuck in this house? Weeks? Months? None of this seems real anymore. Sometimes I don’t know if I’m real anymore either. I just need … something.”

“Someone,” he whispered.

“Yeah. Someone to make me feel like I’m real. Just to make me feel.”

“Humans need other humans to be human,” he muttered. “You should have just called your friend.”

My eyes prickled again and tears splashed against my hands. “How long have you been here?”

“There was an accident shortly after the house was built. I came because of that.”

That raised a lot of questions, but my immediate one was, “How long have you been here alone?”

“On and off since then. Most people don’t last much more than a month or two. Normally, construction crews are the advance party before they move in. It’s easy enough to get rid of the new owners. You were just too stupid to leave.”

I snorted, “Were you really trying to make me go? Because living here was creepy but not anywhere close to the scariest place I’ve ever lived.”

“My heart wasn’t in it. I need you to finish fixing the place first. Sooner or later someone would have built one of those ridiculous houses on the lot.” He started to massage my calf as he spoke.

“The house is more than a hundred years old. That’s a long time to be alone,” I pointed out.

“Enough time to get good at it,” he countered.

I moved my hands then and sat up to look at him. I thought I could see a pool of shifting darkness. “What are you? Are you a ghost? Did someone die here and -”

“Many people have died here. I am not one of them.”

I thought about that for a moment. “Am I?”

“What?”

“Am I some dead woman who is all alone here making excuses for why I can’t leave?”

He laughed at me then, not a jolly laugh, an odd howling laugh. “How did you come up with that ridiculous idea?”

It stung a little, “It’s a popular plot point in a number of movies. And I can’t help but notice you didn’t answer the question.”

He stopped laughing when he realized I was serious and said flatly, “You aren’t dead.”

#quarantine #oh my god they were quarantined #monster boyfriend #shadow monster

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ijustwant2write · 4 years ago

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A Bad Arrangement-Thomas Shelby x Reader

(GIF credit to @sihtrics)

Tags: @captivatedbycillianmurphy @jenepleurepasbaby @amirahiddleston @bloodorangemoonlight

Requested by anonymous: ‘Hi! Could I request a tommy imagine in which the reader and him are in an arranged Marriage. She tries to be a good wife, but he’s very cold towards her and she feels sad about it. One day he comes home in a rather sour mood and the reader tries to cheer him up, but since he’s upset he says something harmful to her which makes her cry. He feels bad and goes to talk to her and tells her the reason he was cold towards her is because he was scared she would end up like grace. A fluffy ending pls❤️’

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Neglect, sadness, arguing, swearing, mention of death, fluff

(A/N: I changed it slightly, it worked better with the direction of the plot)

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Charlie's cries could be heard throughout the house, and my instincts kicked in. He wasn't my child, but I had always had a strong nurturing side. I carefully rushing up the stairs, hurrying down the hall to his room when one member of staff stopped me.

"It's alright Mrs Shelby, I'll tend to him." she quietly said.

"No, it's fine, I can look after him. I'm sure you're swept off your feet." I tried to move around her, but she blocked me.

"Please miss."

I sighed."Tommy told you to not let me near him, didn't he?"

Her silence gave me the answer. She hesitated before turning around, making her way into Charlie's room. The door closed before I could even peak inside, and Charlie's cries died down. The frustration in me was building up, I had never felt so humiliated or like an outcast in my entire life. And even in my house, I didn't belong.

As I walked back downstairs, I glanced up at the huge painting of Grace, Tommy's former wife. On the one hand, I understood why he kept it up; he was in love with her, they had a child together, and it was a tragic death. However, it felt as if he was mocking me, telling me that I wasn't as good as her, that I could never live up to her. And he wasn't shy about expressing that either.

This wasn't the marriage I had dreamed of, not the life my mother had told me I would have. After trying and failing to find that love everyone so desperately seeks, I somehow ended up in the clutches of the Shelby's. An arranged marriage (more like a business proposal) had been made between my family and theirs, just so they could tread on some of our territory. We weren't a gang like them, but my father was a powerful man, and he knew how to protect his business. Hence why I was part of the deal; marry the wealthy man's daughter, or lose out on a massive piece of land that would benefit them in the future. The marriage also made a tie between our families, meaning we were supposed to be friendly at all times. Which is why I never told my family about the way I was treated, it would cause an even bigger problem.

I continued down to the kitchen, smelling the freshly baked goods. There were biscuits cooling on a rack, and I hovered my hand above them, checking they weren't too hot. As no one was looking, I pinched one of them, quickly weaving my way out of there, and down to the wine cellar as I ate it. I had noticed that Tommy was in need of another bottle of whiskey in his office (I had been searching for him the day before, not finding him anywhere as usual, and for some reason, it was something that I picked up on), and this was another way to waste time for myself. My finger ran along the many bottles we had, picking up a random one. It seemed fine, I still wasn't aware of what made a good whiskey.

Although I had a feeling that Tommy wasn't in, I knocked on his office door anyway, scared of what would happen if I just entered. When no reply came, I opened it slowly, looking into the room before taking a step inside. My eyes roamed around the place, taking everything in. Tommy never let in me in for a long time, it was the one room I never knew. Slowly making my way towards the trolley stuffed with glasses of alcohol, I swapped the empty whiskey for the new one. That man's alcohol tolerance was amazing.

My head whipped around when I heard echoing footsteps, frozen as I thought about how angry Tommy would be when he caught me. I almost tripped over myself as I moved away from his desk, clutching onto the bottle. The door swun open, and he slammed it behind him before noticing me. With that usual cold expression, he stopped for a second.

"What are you doing in here?" he snapped, storming towards his desk.

"I-I saw that you had no whiskey, so I replaced it." I hated that I stuttered.

He lit a cigarette, not looking at me anymore."Someone else could have done that."

"I don't mind. I mean, it's done now anyway." I gulped."How was your day?"

"Fine."

I waited for him to ask me, even if he wasn't interested. But when he sensed that I hadn't left, he finally glanced at me again.

"Is there anything else?" he mumbled.

"No."

Scurrying away, I held in my tears until the door closed. Hugging the bottle to my chest, I whimpered unexpectedly. When was the last time I had smiled? When was the last time I hadn't cried one day after the other. My hand was shaking as I dumped the bottle onto a nearby table. It wasn't fair. I had been good all my life, why was I being punished?

The evening arrived, meaning another day of not existing was about to pass. Slumping upstairs after another lonely meal, I headed towards our room, when I saw Charlie standing up in his cot. He smiled as he spotted me, wriggling around and giggling. No one was going to stop me from seeing that boy, he had lost one mother, he wasn't going to lose another.

"Hi," I gushed as I approached him, both of us smiling at each other,"you should be asleep."

I picked him up, cradling him close to me, his tiny arms wrapping around me. I rocked him as I rubbed his back, taking the feeling in. He was instantly calmed, snuggling into me, and I cherished it. I wanted a child of my own. I wanted to know that feeling of being pregnant, the connection you had as soon as you gave birth, and for Charlie to have a sibling to play with. Just as I thought he had settled, about to place him back in his cot, he whined, and I straightened up again.

"Mummy." his words were muffled in my shoulder, but I heard it anyway.

He hadn't called me that before. It wasn't a mistake. Charlie knew I wasn't his real mum, and yet he had just called me that. I could hear his breathing become deeper, he had to be asleep by now. Though I didn't want to separate myself from him, I reluctantly laid him down, kissing his head ever so gently. Tiptoeing put of his bedroom, I pulled the door closed silently, luckily not waking him up as it clicked shut.

Most nights I couldn't sleep anyway, I would just lie in the plush bed, head resting on the finest of pillows; still with all this comfort, my mind was still wide awake. The way Charlie had said 'mummy' repeated itself over and over. Of course I had cried over it, but I had also cried at the joy he gave me. My heart hadn't felt such love for a long time. Tommy could be heard coming up the stairs, and I knew it was him because all of the staff were dismissed for the night; and the fact that it was three in the morning.

I rolled onto my side, pulling the covers over me. My eyes stayed open as I saw the light from the hallway illuminate the room, but we were shut in darkness again. Closing my eyes to seem asleep, I heard Tommy fumble around, sighing a couple of times. After a few minutes, the bed dipped beside me, but I knew he wasn’t lying down yet. When we were first married, I had tried to lay near him, wishing he would hold me just once. And it was extremely rate for him to even be in bed, not that it made any difference. Over time, I had inched further away from him, creating a huge space between us. I hadn’t cried myself to sleep in a while, and tonight I seemed to be falling back into that habit, whether it was due to what Charlie said or because Tommy yelled at me. But I couldn’t cry freely tonight, not with Tommy in the room. It wasn’t something I could control, so I subtly buried my head into the pillow, hoping that my shoulders weren’t shaking too much.��Even if he did see me in such a state, it wouldn't phase him. He would probably slip away to fund peace elsewhere.

I could feel how puffy my eyes were in the morning, dried tears masked on my cheeks. My hand ran down my face, before flopping down to my sides. I didn't need to check if Tommy was there, he was never there in the morning.

Not bothering to dress for breakfast, I tied my robe around me, head hung low as I walked down the hallway. The only time I looked up from the ground was to see if Charlie was awake, but he had already been taken out of his room. I had to see that boy again today, I had to hear him call me 'mummy' again.

As I sat at the table, waiting to be served breakfast, the head housekeeper, Frances, approached me. She didn't have any food with her, nor anyone following her.

"Mrs Shelby, I have been asked to pass on a message from Mr Shelby." she started, seeming nervous.

My mind instantly jumped to the worst thoughts, panicking that something terrible had happened."What is it?"

"He has...demanded that you stay away from Charlie."

"Stay away?"

"He says you were told before that you weren't to interact, and apparently you have violated that."

"And leave that boy without a mother?"

"I'm sorry miss, it's what he ordered. My staff would be in trouble-"

"I understand." I accidentally snapped, regretting my tone."Is he here? Of course he's not, when is he ever here?"

"No, he isn't."

I could stand to be in that room anymore, not with all the tension I had caused. Frances backed away when I stood, and I left without a second glance. No matter how big this house was, I always felt like I was in a tiny box, like it was being crushed and no one cared if it hurt me. Sprinting out of the front door, I ignored the sharp gravel digging into my feet, heading towards the open field we had for the horses. I looked like someone who had escaped an asylum.

Everything around me was Tommy's, there was nothing of value that I owned here. He was in charge, he had control. I no longer had a life here, that had disappeared as soon as the ring was put on my finger. I tugged at my wedding band, desperate to take it off my finger, as if it was burning me; but it was stuck there, refusing to budge. I screamed out in frustration, slamming the ground with my fists. Tommy Shelby was a cruel man, and for what? I wasn't Grace, I understood that, but why did he have to be so horrible?

With my arms crossed over my chest, remnants of dirt still on my hands, I paced around Tommy's office. I didn't care if I wasn't supposed to be in here, he was going to answer my questions. I still wasn't dressed, and it was well into the late afternoon now. If I had to, I would wait all night in that room. Luckily I wouldn't have to, because his care had pulled up on the driveway, and it was only a matter of a few minutes when we would face each other.

He didn't hold back his deep sigh when he opened the door."Why are you in here again?"

"I want to speak to you." I confidently said.

"It'll have to wait." he headed towards his desk, and I scoffed at him.

"No, it won't wait. I won't wait. What made you think that you could stop me from seeing Charlie?"

"(Y/N), I am not about to argue with you."

I raised my voice, my emotions getting the better of me."He's only a baby! He needs a mother figure. You know, that boy is my only source of happiness in this hell hole, and you've taken that away from me!"

"Stop trying so fucking hard!" He yelled back."He's not your son, he's mine! You didn't give birth to him, my dead wife did! You don't do anything to benefit this family, I could have easily taken over your father's territory, but instead I chose the peaceful way, which I regret every day of my life!"

My bottom lip trembled, tears streaming down my face."You don't mean that."

"Oh but I do." he seethed."You don't understand what I do out there to keep us protected, to make sure I can feed us, to make sure no one dies!"

He quickly walked towards me, and I was too scared to stand my ground. I cried out as I fled for the door, clumsily opening it before escaping. My sobbing was loud through the spacious halls, footsteps heavy on the stairs, slamming the bedroom door as hard as I could once I was inside. My shaking legs managed to carry me to the bed before I collapsed, finding myself crying there once again.

It must have been an hour later when the door clicked open. I tensed up, slowly backing up against the headboard as Tommy stepped in. He stared at me, and I thought I saw a moment of sadness in his eyes, but told myself I imagined it. Cautiously approaching me, I stayed still as he stood at the end of the bed, hands in his pockets with his head bowed.

"I'm sorry."

"W-what?" I was in disbelief, he had never apologised to me.

He raised his head, looking me dead in the eye."I'm sorry for shouting at you, I know I scared you. I never want to do that."

I said nothing, hoping he would add onto that.

"I don't like being horrible to you. You don't deserve it."

"Then why do you do it?"

He seemed surprised that I had spoke."I do it to protect you."

"What do you mean?"

"I fell in love with Grace. I let her in, I told her things about the business. And she died. She took a bullet that was meant for me, and I'll never forgive myself for that. I had set up a life that wouldn't involve another woman, it would just be me and Charlie. And then this happened. I couldn't hurt or kill your father, I didn't have any reason to, it was more beneficial to make a deal. And you were a part of that."

"You didn't want anymore blood on your hands." I mumbled.

"Although I was desperate to not marry you, not just because we didn't know each other, but I didn't want to put you in the same danger as Grace. By not getting close to you, not taking an interest, I didn't have the chance to gain any feelings, even a friendship."

"You took Charlie away from me. It tipped me over the edge."

"I know."

"You've hurt me a lot Tommy."

"And I wish I hadn't. It seemed the only way to keep you safe."

"I wasn't asking you to love me. What I really wanted was at least a friendship. If you didn't want Charlie to see me as a mother-"

"I know what he called you the other day."

"The maid who told me about you sneaking in, she mentioned it."

"Are you mad?"

"No. But I'm angry that my son has been able to move on faster than I have."

"He hasn't moved on, he doesn't fully understand what happened. Charlie will remember Grace if we talk about her."

"You would want that?"

"If you want him to remember, who am I to take that away from him?"

He raised an eyebrow at me."I thought you would be screaming at me more."

"I don't want to do that. I don't want to be sad anymore. We have a lot of problems to fix, a lot of things to be talked about. But I'm tired, I can't deal with it now, not tonight."

He rounded the bed, coming to my side. Still apprehensive, I watched him closely. There was nothing to be scared of now, not when he was reaching his arms out to me. Reluctantly sitting up on my knees, I glanced into his eyes one last time, before practically engulfing him in the tightest hug possible. It felt good when he squeezed me back. It wasn't as if we had just suddenly fallen in love, we had made a connection, we were wiping the slate clean. Feelings were still hurt, there were things that needed mending between us, but it was a start.

"Can you forgive me for how I've treated you?" He whispered into my ear.

I sighed, tightening my grip."I will, over time."

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby one shot #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagines #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby one shot #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders x reader #bbc peaky blinders #Peaky Blinders bbc

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thetomorrowshow · 3 years ago

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i will make the sky collapse ch. 4

First - Previous - Read on AO3!

Chapters are getting longer, so you know what else is!! The content warnings. I wish I wanted to apologize. Also we’re finally in Crutchie’s pov??? I can’t believe it took me until chapter four when it’s a Crutchie-centric fic lol

cw: graphic depictions of violence (beatings, whipping, dislocation), blood, lots of it, brief mentions of food, thoughts of death (not suicide, but the main character is fairly certain he won’t survive)

Crutchie had been priding himself on not passing out, laying with his face smushed into the dirt outside. That is, until he blinked and was suddenly in a cool, dark room, the only light coming through a tiny barred window up high. He tried not to admit it to himself, but he was a little scared that someone had moved him and he hadn’t even stirred. He had no idea what time it was, how long he’d been out.

He blinked a few more times, then put his palms to the ground, grimacing as they scraped against the stone. He gasped when he tried to push himself up--there was--a knife, a knife in his chest, he was dying dying dying--Crutchie looked down. He wasn’t dying, there was no knife there, but it hurt so much he couldn’t even see right--Crutchie’s hands suddenly fell out from under him and he hit the ground, too lightly to cause as much rebounding pain as it did. This was bad.

“The boys been saying that you won’t work,” a voice spoke from somewhere behind him. Crutchie shivered--the same voice who had let the Delanceys swing at him endlessly for not telling where Jack was. Snyder the good old Spider.

“How’s a nice ‘pology sound?” Crutchie grunted. It felt like the inside of his throat was peeling, just from a few words. When could he get some water? Snyder laughed.

“The first day one of yous delinquents gives me an honest apology is the day I retire.”

Crutchie took several shallow breaths, steeled himself, then rolled over. He tried to not gasp in pain too much, but it was certainly showing on his face--the way his bad leg got caught under his good one, something in his chest scraped, blood trickled down the side of his face from some unseen mark on his cheek. Still, he looked up at Snyder, bringing out the doe eyes and what Jack affectionately called his ‘poor baby orphan’ face.

“For what it’s worth, Mr. Snyder, I really is sorry.” That I got caught.

Snyder pretended to consider it, his face twisting in mock thoughtfulness. “Not good enough,” he decided after two seconds. It was worth a shot, Crutchie figured. He didn’t think it would actually work, but he had hoped that maybe it would make the man go easy on him.

“Ten lashes for shirkin’, then another ten for ignoring the guards,” Snyder said, and Crutchie closed his eyes so that Snyder wouldn’t see them rolling up into his head and take it as a sign of insolence. He probably ought to roll back over, but he couldn’t find the strength. Then he heard Snyder’s belt unbuckle.

Crutchie’s system shot with adrenaline and he found himself on his stomach, the current pain barely noticeable when his body was prepping for the next bout. He took a shuddering breath, his heart pounding a tattoo into his head. He could survive this. He’d already survived the beating earlier today, this would be no problem. He remembered, vaguely, something that Romeo had told him a while back--“If it looks like you’s ain’t gettin’ out of it, breathe real slow and steady. Try ta breathe out with the hits, you’s fine.” He’d never asked Romeo why he knew that. No one had.

Crutchie began to follow the instructions, breathing in as calmly as possible as he felt Snyder pull up his shirt to bare his back to the chilly room. His breath out, however, was cut off with a choked gasp as the belt smacked against his skin. Snyder barely paused, letting it hit again before he could even take a new breath.

The third time it fell, Crutchie had his breath back and did exactly what he was supposed to, and surprisingly, it helped. It almost doused the panic choking him, giving him something steady to rely on. Breathing in through his nose and then out through his mouth helped even more, he found on the seventh hit, giving him something to focus on.

The eleventh lash broke skin, and Crutchie felt his nose burn and drip, his teeth suddenly clenched as a scream tried to escape. All thoughts of breathing calmly flew out of his mind as he tried to hold the yell back. The thirteenth landed with a wet smacking sound, and Crutchie couldn’t breathe at all anymore, was trying to crawl away, was biting his tongue so hard he couldn’t feel it--

The fifteenth was the worst so far, Crutchie thought desperately, so the sixteenth had to be better. Then it wasn’t, it was worse, and Crutchie nearly sobbed, swallowing it away. The seventeenth was worse still, and the eighteenth--the nineteenth--

Twenty. Crutchie couldn’t see, his face pressed into the floor as he gasped for air and swallowed repeatedly, trying to not make a sound besides the whistling of his broken nose. He was alive, he was alive, he had survived this so he could survive the next minute, and the next after that.

He couldn’t believe he was already counting minutes.

When he finally felt like he had some semblance of control over himself and an awareness of the room, Crutchie noticed that Snyder had left, the door at the top of the stairs closed. Crutchie took as deep a breath as he could without making his chest explode, then another. He was alive--and better yet, he hadn’t even made a noise. Crutchie couldn’t quite find it in himself to be proud about it, but he knew Jack would be.

All the aches and pains from all day came back at once, leaving him gritting his teeth and shaking. His hands spasmed--he was certain he had at least a few broken fingers--along with his feet, causing a more familiar ache to spread through his bum leg. Familiar enough that he held onto it, relished in something that reminded him of home.

The room was almost completely dark now, the slats of sunlight falling in through the window reduced to the light from the streetlamp nearby. Everything here was foreign, dangerous, everything Crutchie had tried to avoid for years. Most of all, though, it was lonely.

Crutchie hated to think of himself as a dependent person (even though he undeniably was, wasn’t he), but he sure missed the company of all the guys and Jack right now. Had it only been a few days back when he and Jack talked about their dreams on the rooftop? It seemed so long ago, like something that had happened to a very different Crutchie in a very different world. This Crutchie’s world was limited to pain, darkness, cold floors, and the wheezing of his own breath. He couldn’t be here any longer.

Crutchie lay there, motionless, on the floor of the musty cellar, until he had left his body and retreated into the back of his head, to a place where none of this had ever happened. Where the strike didn’t matter, and his leg was good, and he and Jack were leaping down the streets of Santa Fe, freer than ever before.

When he felt himself slipping into darkness, he let it happen. Anything to get out of here right now. A dreamless sleep relieved him of his pain.

Crutchie woke up to considerable pain in his legs and his head bumping against the steps, which he wished he could say was the strangest way he’d ever woken up. Before he could react or even totally process what was happening, they were up the stairs and into some light, which was just dim enough he didn’t need to squint to see. It was the little things.

Whoever was dragging him paused in the hall they were in, letting go of him completely. For half a second, Crutchie absently entertained a fantasy of hopping up, kicking this guy to the ground, then running out through the front door and right back to the lodging house.

Then he was being hauled up again--and there were two people now, where had the second man come from?--this time under his armpits, and once again practically dragged down the hall and up some more stairs. He hissed as his bad leg bumped against each step, steps that seemed endless. Where was he going now? It was night, maybe there were beds around here somewhere?

He didn’t know it was the last step until he heard a door open, and blinked his eyes open to see a dimly lit room full of dirty boys. Then he was pushed forward, hitting the floor with an impact that he felt to his very bones.

Crutchie let himself lie still for a few moments, moments that he wished could extend into forever. Eventually, he spoke, swallowing around the desert that had taken up lodging in his throat. “What’s a guy gotta do ta get a welcome ‘round here?”

Dear Jack,

Crutchie paused. What usually came in a letter after that? He didn’t get too many letters. Probably he should check that Jack’s okay, right?

How are you? I’m okay.

He wasn’t.

If he felt safe in the room, Crutchie wouldn’t be writing this letter, he would be passed out on this bed that another boy had crawled into earlier. But he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that these kids were ruthless, and would do anything to survive, even if that meant hurting him. So, instead of resting, here he was at sometime early in the morning writing a letter to Jack with the scrap of paper and pencil he’d found in his front pocket.

It had taken what felt like hours to check over his entire body and clean his wounds the best he could with the tiny bit of water one of those boys had brought him. He was bleeding from what felt like all over, and there just wasn’t enough to wash it off, so his face was going to be plastered with blood for a while.

He couldn’t quite reach the stinging lashes on his back, so he made do by ripping a part of his shirt off, dipping it in the water, then shoving it under his back. On his chest there was a scary-looking cut, surrounded by a mass of purple. He wasn’t quite sure where it had come from, but it was clearly part of why his chest hurt so much to breathe. The other part was made clear in the crutch-shaped swathes of bruises all over his body.

His legs weren’t in terrible shape, apart from his right, which had been stomped on by both of the Delanceys as soon as they got the chance, but it wasn’t the worst it had ever looked. Being dragged around by it hadn’t helped matters, though, and it hurt like it had been run over by a carriage.

After careful examination of his fingers, he decided that only three of them were broken, two of which were on his right hand. It was better than he had hoped, seeing as all of them were discolored and swollen.

Now, however, Crutchie continued to write, not entirely sure what he was putting on the paper, just wanting to make sure Jack knew he was alive. If he could get it to him. The room was close to silent, just a few snuffles and snores here and there, so Crutchie knew he ought to get to sleep soon, he just wanted to finish this up. He didn’t think he was making much noise, but he must’ve been whispering about Santa Fe while lost in his daydream, because he was suddenly shushed by several people.

Crutchie shifted--then nearly cried when his entire body complained. How could it be this bad? It was only his first day! Jack had spent months at a time in here, couldn’t he be just a bit more like him? All he had written so far were complaints, exhausted ramblings that showed very clearly that they were nothing like each other. A little bit about how hard it was here, more about wishing he was out.

And out of nowhere, Crutchie saw clearly.

There was no way out.

Even if the strike succeeded, he was going to be stuck here for another three months at least. He couldn’t escape because of his stupid leg, and the only person who had ever truly escaped was Jack. It was impossible for everyone. But while plenty of kids were released after serving their time, Crutchie . . . wasn’t going to survive that. The almost overwhelming pain that pervaded his body was all from one day. Even if he survived beating after beating, and the manual labor, and the lack of food, this place was ripe for illnesses and infections. When Crutchie got ill, he always got it worse than the other boys. If he got sick here, with his injuries and weakness, he would be gone instantly.

Crutchie almost wrote a goodbye right there and then. This would probably be the only chance to say it. Then he remembered that Jack didn’t get things like that.

Jack was incredible, the best friend a kid could ask for, but he was stubborn and made up his mind pretty quickly as to what the best way would be--and it was usually his own. If Crutchie said something, he would get himself locked up in here in a matter of minutes, and then he would just have to watch as Crutchie failed. The strike wouldn’t succeed without Jack, he needed to be out there.

I’ll be fine, Crutchie wrote instead. Good as new. His heart broke, having to lie to Jack in what would probably be his final words to him, but the strike had to continue. This was bigger than him, more important than one crippled kid stuck in kid jail.

He wasn’t going to deny himself a final request, though, so he asked, in shaky letters, for Jack to tell everyone to look out for one another. That way, they could know he was thinking of them.

Finally, he was at the sign-off, and friend didn’t seem like enough. Best friend?

Brother.

The letter was done, and just in time to get complaints from the beds around him for still having a candle on. Quickly, Crutchie blew it out and laid down, the letter tucked into his pocket. He tried not to move around too much so as to not disturb his bunkmate, but everything just hurt so much. No position was in any way comfortable. He eventually managed to stay in one place long enough to doze off. It was just his luck that a tapping on the window started.

All things considered, Crutchie’s second day in the Refuge was better than his first. For one thing, he got a spot of water when he woke up. According to one of the other boys, there was a well out back that they snuck out to in shifts to get some water from. Not that that would be possible for Crutchie, but it was nice of the boy--Red, his name was--to mention it.

There was no digging for Crutchie today. Instead, he was assigned to polishing the staircase--difficult work, but something he was capable of doing without needing to stand. He wasn’t quite sure how to polish something, and he also didn’t know why he needed to, but it was better than being kicked repeatedly and threatened while he struggled to dig a pointless hole.

Snyder was leaving him completely alone so far, and he’d actually walked by twice. The guards were still targeting him though, which Crutchie discovered when one of them pushed him down the seven steps he’d climbed so far.

As he lay on the floor at the bottom, trying to regain his breath and not scream, another kick came from behind. Cruel laughter came from around him, but Crutchie knew, somewhere, that if he didn’t get up now he never would again. His vision was sliding into a mixture of tinted red and completely black with flashes of white, the pain almost putting him out. Still, with strength summoned from who knows where, Crutchie got his arms under himself and pushed up. Sure, he was going to die anyways, but he had to make it until at least Jack got his letter. Ideally longer than that, but Crutchie didn’t know that he could cope with such a distant goal.

With immense effort, he managed to drag himself back to the stairs, not quite able to stifle a cry as a foot connected with his bad leg. Stars were dancing in his reddened vision, but he was almost there. He just had to get up a few steps, back to whatever the polishing stuff was. He’d have to redo the top steps, ruined by the footprints of the guards. That was okay. He had all day.

The laughter faded, and for a moment Crutchie wondered if he was actually passing out, before realizing that the guards were just leaving. All but one of the four in the area wandered separate ways, leaving the last one to start talking at Crutchie.

Clearly, Crutchie wasn’t supposed to speak back unless asked a direct question, so he stayed silent, gritting his teeth against the pain. He probably wouldn’t still be conscious, but between the strong scent of the polish and the ever-rambling guard, he couldn’t help but stay awake. The guard was derisive, rude, and just all-around disgusting, but at least it wasn’t active violence. For the second time, his head completely cleared and Crutchie despaired at the hopelessness. He was a cripple, stuck in the Refuge. He’d be lucky to survive a week. It would be a miracle if he survived at all.

If a guard or some other staff member passed by, they’d not only completely screw up his work, but also add to his collection of abrasions. His legs were a favorite target, his hands a close second. Those were coated in polish and his fingers were swollen beyond recognition, barely able to grip the rag he was working with.

After the entire day, less than half this one staircase was complete and dried, though sure to look like it had never been polished in a matter of days. The guard had walked off eventually, leaving Crutchie alone with his pounding head and aching body for hours. He had probably ought to get a drink of water if he didn’t want to die of dehydration before the injuries did him in, but there was no way he could get anywhere water was in his condition. Nobody had returned his crutch to him, so he wouldn’t have even been able to get there if he was in perfect shape.

Less and less people passed, and the stairwell grew darker and darker, but Crutchie kept working, taking breaks every few minutes just to psych himself up for the next bit of work. No one had told him to leave his work, so he didn’t dare try to find someone to ask.

When boys started to pass him on the stairs, they came in differently than he expected--no running, taking steps two at a time, jumping around each other. Instead, he was greeted with head-hanging trudges, each kid looking more tired than the last. Crutchie wanted to join them, abandon the rag and container of polish and walk to what was surely bed, but he’d been crouched for so long that he was certain straightening out would tear his muscles in half. Not that the pain from that would be too bad, all things considered. It couldn’t be anything compared to this.

Still, Crutchie only curled up to the side, waiting for someone to drag him up the stairs. A few of the boys shot him curious or pitying looks, but most of them didn’t even notice him. Most of them didn’t seem to notice anything.

As predicted, once most everyone had passed, a guard grabbed him by his bad leg and began to pull him up the stairs with no concern for his head knocking against steps and walls. Crutchie couldn’t keep from whimpering, even crying as the guard gripped his foot in a way that was just wrong, twisting it terribly and causing burns to shoot up it straight to his waist. He did his best to keep his other leg out of the way, but he couldn’t focus, it all just hurt so so much--

His good leg caught on a step, and try frantically as he might, he couldn’t get it unstuck before--pop!

Crutchie lost all his breath in a silent scream, his vision (which had been gradually clearing all afternoon) vacillating between red and white faster than he could see. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t feel his left foot but holy cripes could he feel his left leg. Bursts of passionate agony shot through his hip, the roof of his mouth heavy with the vague taste of blood that he was sure came from his splitting head. He barely noticed when the guard dropped his leg and left, he couldn’t hear or see or even smell anything, all his senses overwhelmed entirely.

When a burning sensation attacked his shoulder, Crutchie couldn’t even jerk away, just sobbed drily. He was dying, this had to be death, there was no way he could survive this without his body just shutting down. . . .

Distantly, a voice permeated everything, saying unfamiliar words that didn’t make any sort of sense.

“Bad disc’lation,” it said, “hold . . . need ta . . . so I cans. . . .”

More fiery touches, all over, too many places, gripping him so painfully, what was happening, why wasn’t he gone yet. . . .

Then the pain at his hip went white-hot and Crutchie screamed, and immediately something was covering his mouth as he found the energy to thrash away from the torture at his hip. Some of the hands let go of him, but not the one at his hip, and then--

Then he blinked, and Crutchie could see, through watery eyes, an arm in front of his face. A strange pool of relief was gathering in his stomach, and despite being able to feel too much and everything all at once and not even know what pain came from which part of his body, he could feel his left foot again.

All the rest of the hands released him and Crutchie relaxed slightly, and he was able to stop screaming. The hand covering his mouth left as well, and Crutchie blinked a few times and took a shallow breath only to see a face swimming over him.

“All right, kid?” the face asked, but Crutchie could only stare. Was he expected to respond? The thought slipped away as soon as it entered his head, and Crutchie thought he heard a sigh before the world went completely dark, completely silent, completely nothing.

“Psst. Kid. You. Kid. Crutchie.”

Crutchie’s eyes shot open, and he turned to--ouch.

Ouch.

Why did moving his neck hurt?

Scratch that, everything hurt. Right, he’d fallen asleep like that. In pain.

Crutchie swallowed a few times, pleased to find that his throat wasn’t as bad as he remembered it feeling. Then he scrunched his eyes closed and turned his head. Someone--the leader, what was his name? Harley?--was standing there, in the dark.

“Hm?” Crutchie mumbled.

“Ya got a visitor. Jack Kelly.”

Why was Jack here? He was supposed to be running the union, and striking, and definitely not worrying about him. That’s why he had written that letter, to try and reassure him.

Crutchie didn’t dare hope that Jack was here to get him out.

He tried to sit up, but Harley pushed him back down, none too gently. “Ain’t nobody helpin’ you up, I’s takin’ a message.”

“I don’ give messages,” Crutchie said stubbornly, his head clearing a bit. He must’ve been asleep for a while, judging by the level of darkness in the room. Not that he could remember much about getting into bed, or even into the room. How much time had he lost?

Despite his words, Harley kept his hand on Crutchie’s chest, refusing to move it when he pulled away. If anything, he was beginning to feel worse than he did yesterday.

“I’s already told him you ain’t gettin’ up, and he’s tryin’a fit through the window,” Harley whispered, “but he ain’t gonna do it. So--anything ta say?”

Crutchie searched his brain a little frantically, still not totally conscious and in almost too much agony to think. “Tell him . . .” he said finally, his tongue heavy, “that, uh, I’m doin’ better than I seems.”

Harley snorted. “You wants me ta lie to the famous Jack Kelly?”

Crutchie sighed, his face heating up in embarrassment. “I does it all the time. Jus’ . . . tell ‘im I’m gonna be okay, and that he needs to be workin’ on the strike.”

Harley watched him for a long moment, his face too shadowed to give anything away. Then he nodded and left, quickly out of Crutchie’s very short sightline.

That reminded Crutchie that Jack was here, actually here, breathing in the same stuffy air, and that somehow gave him the strength to shift himself up against the headboard, gasping in short little bursts, until he had a view of the window.

There Jack was--or, a figure that looked like him against the minimal amount of light coming from the street outside. Harley was blocking part of the window, but Crutchie could see that their whispered conversation was escalating, judging by the gestures. Finally, an exchange of some sort happened, and both boys spit and shook, Jack swaying dangerously on the windowsill.

Crutchie let himself fall back into a lying position, completely exhausted. The pain didn’t even matter too much anymore. He was too tired to care about it.

“Kelly says go back ta sleep,” a voice--Harley--whispered close to his ear. “And don’ worry about ‘scapin’ if ya can’t. Just survive.” Survive. He was alive. That was good, Jack wanted him to do that.

Crutchie wasn’t sure when his eyes had closed, but boy was he grateful for it. Closing them seemed like it would sap the last bit of energy he had. With that thought, Crutchie slipped back into a dreamless sleep, dead to the world and all that was in it.

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borathae · 5 years ago

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↳ Index [#07 Act Seven: Hearts Come Together]

Warnings: awkward tension & misunderstandings, fighting & more misunderstandings lmao

Wordcount: 8k

“D-do you want to w-walk together?” Yoongi asks, scratching the back of his neck.

“Sure I’d love to”, you smile.

“Cool”, he murmurs, smiling softly.

You walk down the familiar path, past the many small houses and little shops and over the wooden bridge on which the lamp posts shine.

“You know I have never seen where you live”, you break the silence.

“It’s b-boring. You d-don’t want to see it”, he answers.

He kicks a little stone, it rolls off the bridge, landing in the water. Waves dance over the surface, small circles turn into bigger ones, big circles turn into even bigger ones. In perfect harmony they coexist. You both had watched the circles dance on the water’s surface, standing next to each other as each of you held onto the wooden railing.

“I’m sure it’s not”, you assure him.

You turn to him, leaning your hip against the railing. You love how his nose looks in the lighting, how it curves perfectly and how his philtrum casts a faint shadow as it connects his button nose with his doll-like lips.

Yoongi chuckles, it’s quiet and if it wasn’t for the silence of the evening you wouldn’t have been able to hear it. His eyes begin to sparkle in excitement, the corners of his lips twitch upwards.

“Are you indirectly a-asking me to, to show you my home?”

You shrug your shoulders, not daring to look at him, feeling nervous.

“Maybe I am”, you mumble.

Yoongi takes a quick glance at you, before he starts to blush.

“You can say no of course, I just wanted to, I don’t know, spend a little more time with you. Now that you are so busy with practice”, you confess.

“With me? W-why?” Yoongi gasps, his eyes widened.

You look at him, not quite believing that he still doesn’t realise how much fun it is to spend time with him.

“Because I like hanging out with you.”

“Oh”, his lips form an o-shape, his cheeks are flushed pink.

He looks so cute, it makes you giggle fondly.

“And besides I’m sure you haven’t had a proper meal in days. I can’t let you go to bed on an empty stomach”, you add.

Yoongi doesn’t know what to say. One side of his body screams at him to run, overwhelmed by your affection, whilst the other half tells him to stay and finally accept your kindness. This is all so new to him, so foreign but all so, so...Amazing, it feels amazing.

“Is it t-that obvious?” he almost sounds embarrassed that he was caught.

“Kind of yeah”, you chuckle.

It makes Yoongi laugh too, his chest feels so warm.

“So what is your answer?”

A moment of silence, only the rushing of the stream can be heard and the distant honk of a car.

“O-okay”, he mumbles, nodding furiously.

“Cool”, you swallow down your squeal, “I’m happy.”

The both of you don’t take the usual right turn as you always do when Yoongi walks you home, but instead he leads you straight down the road. You had never been in this area so every new house you pass by is exciting to you. Yoongi, who had very much noticed your obvious interest in this place, smiles to himself, looking to the side so you wouldn’t be able to see it.

“I’m already really g-good at t-the piece”, he says proudly.

You look at him.

“Are you? I’m happy for you.”

Yoongi nods, smiling in a thin line.

“I didn’t like it at first. I thought it’s too b-boring for a competition b-but now I really like it.”

“Yes I was quite surprised myself when I read the required piece, I really thought they would choose Liszt so seeing Beethoven's name on the paper surprised me a lot.”

“Me too. They probably chose it because Liszt would be t-too hard for m-most students.”

You snort, sending Yoongi an amused look.

“Do I hear an ounce of cockiness in your voice right now?”

Yoongi grins in a lopsided smile, shrugging his shoulders.

“I’m just saying.”

You chuckle. This newfound confidence suits him, making your heart race all the more.

“Do you think I will be able to listen to it soon? I’m already so curious to hear.”

“Uhm”, Yoongi coughs, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “I d-don’t k-know. M-maybe?” he stutters, blushing.

“Or perhaps it would be better if Taehyung listened to you first. After all, you have known him longer than me.”

“No!” Yoongi blurts out, startling you.

You stare at him with big eyes.

He is cringing. He didn’t plan on yelling right now, why on earth did his body betray him like that. He feels awful, you even flinched because of him.

“I mean-“, he clears his throat, “I w-want you to be first”, he mumbles, averting his shy gaze to the ground.

You aren’t scared of him now, are you? He looks at you from the corners of his eyes. Your face glows in happiness, your eyes are sparkling and your lips smiling.

“You, you do?” you bite the tip of your tongue to stop yourself from grinning like a madwoman.

“Yes I d-do", Yoongi nods, still keeping his head lowered. He is blushing vividly right now, his whole face feels like it is burning up.

You almost seem to skip slightly with every step you take, like an excited little child at a funfair. Yoongi feels his heart speed up and his stomach clench. You are so beautiful.

“Thank you for trusting me so much”, you say and giggle.

Yoongi simply hums, nodding his head. He is lost for words right now, he doesn’t want to ruin this moment right now. He doesn't want to give you an answer because he knows that his voice would crack like the giddy man he is.

You sigh happily, looking up into the sky.

“The clouds are all gone again, you can see so many stars tonight. Look”, you point at the sky, smiling at him with sparkling eyes.

Yoongi looks up. You are right. Millions and millions of white stars twinkle on the black sky, some shine brighter than others. Butterflies dance in his stomach. He never realised how beautiful the night sky looks, how the stars paint patterns on their black canvas. A dog, some circles, a big heart. Yoongi can see paintings in the sky. Has the world always been this beautiful? He was always too busy with trying to hide the world away under a big hood and with his eyes lowered to the ground to notice. It is the first time in a long time that his head is raised and that his eyes take in the beauty. He can breathe again, in this cold winter's night he finally feels like breathing freely again.

You giggle. Your hand brushes his for the slightest bit, making his skin tingle.

“You see those stars over there. It’s a constellation, Ursa Major.”

“I do”, he says, following the path your fingers paint for him with his eyes.

“My dad always watched the stars with me when I was little, that’s why I love looking at them so much”, you smile, “he always took my hand before he walked out into the garden with me. We sat down next to the roses my mother had planted and then we just looked into the sky for what felt like hours as he showed me every constellation he could remember.”

“You must have had an amazing childhood.”

“Yeah”, you chuckle, “yeah I did. Sometimes I miss it”, you sigh sadly.

“Me too.”

“Did you also watch the stars with your father?” you look at him.

He is shaking his head, smiling sadly.

“No I didn’t. But I always went on adventures with my older brother. We lived close t-to mountains for the first d-decade of my life and, and every morning my brother would wake me up and, and t-tell me that it is time for our adventures again”, he chuckles, “I loved waking up so much b-because of t-that. We, we would spend the whole d-day in the mountains until we had t-to come home for dinner.”

“This sounds like so much fun.”

He nods his head, looking at you with smiling eyes.

“It was.”

You both sigh in contentment, looking up into the sky again. A small cloud drifts past the moon, covering its right half completely. It gets darker down on earth with the moon covered. Colder too. You both shiver.

“And now look at us, both living in a city far too big for us”, you say.

“Yeah”, he answers, sounding just as sad as you do.

“It’s so cold all of a sudden”, you not only mean the weather right now, your heart feels heavy in your chest.

“It is?” he looks at you before unwrapping the thick grey scarf from his neck. “Here take this.”

He wraps it around you, the gesture making butterflies dance in your stomach. The scarf feels soft on your skin, it is still warm from Yoongi. It smells like him.

“But what about you? Aren’t you cold too?” you tangle your fingers in his scarf, not wanting to let go.

He shakes his head, hiding his freezing fingers in the pockets of his jacket.

“I’m not, just t-take it for now. I d-don’t need it”, he mumbles.

Your cheeks heat up, your chest feels warm.

“Thank you”, you mumble before snuggling your face into his scarf and inhaling the scent.

You may be lost in a city too big for you, but with Yoongi by your side, being lost doesn’t seem that scary anymore.

Yoongi stops abruptly, seemingly on edge. He jumps from one foot to the other, fidgeting with his jacket sleeves as he looks at you with blushing cheeks.

“Y-you may have h-heard a, a lot of t-things about m-my apartment. But just-“, he sighs, “p-please d-don’t judge”, he whispers almost sadly.

You break the distance between the two of you. His eyes race between yours.

“Hey”, you touch his elbow, “you know that I don’t buy the crap people say, I won’t judge.”

Your promise seems to relax Yoongi, his fidgeting stops, his breathing returns to normal.

“Okay, w-well then we are here”, he says, pointing down a flight of stairs, which seem to lead to a cellar.

It is narrow and badly lit, definitely creepy if you were being honest. Interesting. You hadn’t expected that, you had figured he would point at one of the contemporary apartments above your heads.

Yoongi leads you down the stairs, you in front and him in the back.

“I b-bought it myself”, he says almost proudly, “It’s not b-big, but it’s still nice inside, t-trust me.”

He unlocks his door, his body close to yours in the narrow staircase. You feel the material of his jacket brush against your arm with every move he makes. The smell of his perfume tickles your nose, his face so close you would be able to kiss his cheek if only you leaned forward. Is he as affected by the close proximity as you are right now? He doesn’t seem like it at least, his eyes are fixated on the now opened door.

Thankfully humans aren’t able to hear other peoples racing heartbeats, Yoongi thinks to himself as he tries not to stare at you too much.

“Welcome to Casa del Min”, he announces as he steps through the door and lets you inside.

You laugh, finding it hilarious how he had sounded right now. Yoongi looks at you, basking in your appreciation for his joke. Cute, he thinks to himself, before a fond smile creeps up his blushing face.

“I’m honored”, you laugh, stepping inside.

Just as Yoongi had promised, the apartment looks a lot cozier inside. It is small, just one room in which the kitchen, the living room and the entrance area are. The bathroom is probably behind the closed door opposite of the entrance. The walls are painted white, fresh. Yoongi must have painted them recently.

“D-do you want a t-tour?” he asks.

“Sure why not”, you nod your head.

“Okay so h-here is the living room. I use t-the couch as m-my bed and as m-my dining table too”, he sits down on it.

“That’s some great multitasking you are doing there”, you say and chuckle, sitting down next to him.

“Y-yeah”, he says shyly.

His mind has only processed now how close you are, how your full attention is on him right now, how he could reach out and hold your hand. He swallows, feeling himself getting anxious all of a sudden.

He points at the kitchen, his head lowered.

“A-and that is, is my k-kitchen. I cook stuff t-there”, he mumbles.

He points to the closed door, his cheeks heating up.

“T-that’s m-my b-bathroom. I d-do b-bathroom stuff in t-there”, he murmurs, having to take a deep breath after finishing his sentence.

You can’t help but laugh, finding his behavior heartwreckingly endearing.

“W-why?” he asks confused.

“Nothing”, you giggle, “I just think you are really cute”, you confess, making Yoongi blush all the more.

“Oh, I, oh. I-“, he coughs, “h-hungry. Are y-you a-also hungry?” he jumps up from the couch, waddling to the kitchen and opening cupboard after cupboard.

Act natural, he thinks to himself. Don’t let her know that he is practically melting because of her words.

“W-what you want?” he has to swallow. Why does his mouth feel so dry?

“What do you have?”

You watch him scurry around, kneeling in front of an opened cupboard and taking out everything except a cooking pot. When he finally does manage to grab a pot, plastic bowls and different sized pans litter his floor.

“Ramen and s-some rice”, he has been staring into his nearly empty fridge for what feels like hours now. Why does his face still feel like it is burning up? Is the fridge turned off, why isn’t it cooling him down?

“It’s not quite the proper meal I had imagined but I won’t complain. Ramen always sounds nice”, you say, finally standing up to walk to the kitchen as well.

You step over the bowls and pans on the floor, trying your hardest not to accidentally step on one.

“I, I could walk down t-to the store if you w-want”, he suggests, pulling out his wallet.

“No Yoongi, it’s okay, don’t worry”, you send him a reassuring smile.

“R-really?”

“Yes, really. Don’t worry I like ramen”, you assure him, pouring some water into the pot, “I was just worried about you not getting enough nutrients”, you joke.

“Why me?” he is watching you with curious eyes, leaning against the fridge for support.

“Because you have been practicing day and night, giving yourself no time to eat properly”, you explain.

You pick up the package of instant ramen, Yoongi had laid out for you. Spicy chicken flavor with vegetable flakes. One of your favourites, so Yoongi is a man of taste.

“Oh”, he chuckles in embarrassment, “I just want the song t-to be great. I really want to w-win.”

You look up from the stove to send him a reassuring smile.

“I’m sure you will. You are so talented.”

Yoongi looks to the ground, hiding his giddy smile.

“T-thanks”, he mumbles, almost giggles even.

The water has finally started to cook and with a few skilled movements the ramen are in the pot, cooking happily in their spicy chicken broth. The smell is mouthwatering, making not only yours but also Yoongi’s stomach grumble.

“Just five more minutes and we can eat. Do you want an egg in yours?” you say as you walk to the fridge.

Yoongi, who had only realised now that he basically made you do everything, rips the fridge open before you can, pulling out his last two eggs.

“You, you don’t need to, to cook for me. You are my g-guest”, he says, his voice filled with guilt.

“And what if I want to?”

Yoongi tilts his head to the side, looking at you parted with lips.

“You have been working so hard, let me treat you tonight like the good friend I am”, you tell him as you take the eggs out of his hands.

His skin brushes over yours just for the slightest of moments, but it still leaves you hot all over. Friend, you almost laugh at the irony of your own words. You feel so guilty, calling him your friend but secretly wanting nothing more than to kiss those rosy cheeks of his.

You quickly turn around before your urges get the best of you, walking back to the stove. Two minutes left, the perfect time to put in the eggs and stare awkwardly long into the steaming pot.

Yoongi, who had watched you with sparkling eyes, finally gives in and walks back to the couch. He sits down, relaxing into the soft cushions. You were right, he feels so tired that he could honestly fall asleep right here and there if it wasn’t for you still being with him. What he must have done in his past to deserve someone as nice and caring as you in his life. He still doesn’t know the answer to that, probably never will. He watches you split the ramen equally into two bowls with your tongue sticking out, whilst you hum a happy melody. He doesn’t know what that warm feeling in his chest means, but he knows one thing for sure. He never wants this to end.

Once you feel satisfied with the garnish, basically some sesame seeds which came with the package, you walk to Yoongi.

“Here you go. Be careful it’s so hot”, you say, handing him the bowl of steaming noodles.

He accepts it with a content nod of his head and a quite “thank you.”

You and him take the first bite of food at the same time, both of you humming happily at the taste of chewy noodles and the flavorful chicken soup.

“There is nothing better than hot ramen at night”, you gush to which Yoongi agrees with a loud hum.

“Although my face always looks so swollen the next morning”, you mumble with food stuffed in your mouth.

“That’s a price I-I’m willing to pay”, Yoongi retorts.

“I have to agree with you on that one”, you chuckle.

Once your bowls are empty and your stomachs full, you stand up, ready to clean the dishes. Yoongi however stops you before you can go to the kitchen, refusing to hand you his bowl.

“Just leave them. I, I will clean up tomorrow”, he tells you, making you sit down.

“You sure? It’s no problem.”

“I’m sure, j-just relax a little”, he wants to pat your arm, give it a gentle squeeze, but before his skin can touch yours, he pulls back in nervousness.

“Alright, o-okay”, you stutter.

With nothing distracting you from the fact of how close you actually are, your heart soon begins to race. The natural silence falls between you two, your not-so-secret glances at each other begin. Yoongi fidgets with a pillow he holds tightly in his hands, staring at the opposite wall.

You look around his apartment. He has a lot more plants than you had imagined, six if you don't count in the spring onion plant next to his sink.

“It’s really cozy here. I like the plants you have”, you say.

Yoongi looks at you for the briefest of moments.

“T-thank you. Taehyung t-told me to get some so I would have a reason to, to go home and not practice all week”, he says.

“That’s actually a clever idea”, you chuckle.

“Yeah it d-doesn’t quite work. I originally had fifteen plants”, he confesses.

You snort, giggling afterwards.

“But hey at least you still have those seven left.”

“True I guess”, he shrugs his shoulders.

He doesn’t have a piano, all to your surprise, which explains his late night practices at school.

“I could have been sure that you owned a piano.”

“Why?”

“Because you look like someone owning one”, you turn your head to him, he is looking at you curiously, “did you ever own a piano before?”

“Yeah”, he looks back at the wall, clutching the pillow tightly, “at h-home in my p-parents house I had t-two.”

“You did? Wow, that's so great that they are supporting your dream. You must be really close to your parents, right?”

Yoongi looks at you for the briefest of moments. He shrugs his shoulders, his jaw tensed.

“Not really.”

Your smile drops when seeing the sadness in his eyes.

“Oh, really? But I thought they supported you, you know, paying for the school and everything.”

Yoongi scoffs, it almost sounds angry. He doesn’t look into your eyes, instead his eyes burn holes into the wall next to him. Was asking him about his parents a good idea? He seems so distant all of a sudden.

“I don’t really like to talk about them”, he says coldly.

You swallow at the tone of his voice, having to wrap your arms around your own body to stop yourself from shivering. It sounds so cold, so distant, like he is angry at you for asking such stupid questions.

“Okay, yeah, I mean that’s, that’s totally fine”, you laugh awkwardly.

Yoongi nods his head the slightest bit, still not looking at you. The cold shoulder he has turned to you, makes you feel like you are at the wrong place, like he doesn’t even want you here.

"Shall we talk about something else?"

Yoongi turns even more of his back to you.

“A-actually, I think it’s getting rather late anyways. I think I should get going now and, and let you get your well-deserved sleep”, you say, stumbling to your feet and to the entrance.

You feel so guilty, you made him clearly so uncomfortable with your noisy questions that he doesn’t even want to look at you anymore. You just want to run away, get out of this stupid situation as soon as possible.

You are too busy with tying your shoes to notice Yoongi burying his face in the palms of his hands in frustration as a tired sigh leaves his lips. You stand up, grabbing the door knob.

“I’ll get going then”, you look at him, he doesn’t meet your eyes, “thanks for the ramen, they tasted really good.”

Yoongi nods, his fists are clenched by his sides, his shoulders shaking.

“Maybe one day we can repeat it again”, you force a smile to your lips.

Yoongi still doesn’t look at you, gnawing on his lower lip.

“Anyways. See you soon”, you twist the doorknob, stepping outside.

Yoongi jumps up, rushing to you. Your eyes are big, your heart races in anticipation.

“Do, do you want me t-to walk you home?” he asks, almost hopeful.

“No it’s okay, just get your sleep. I’m a big girl I can manage”, you tell him.

His face falls, his eyes seem almost lifeless, tired and glassy.

“Okay”, he whispers before turning around dragging himself back to the couch.

How you would love to dug him in, stroke his hair and tell him how sorry you are for mentioning his parents. But you have already done enough damage for today, so instead you whisper your goodbye and close the door behind you.

The night is cold and gruesome, freezing you down to your bones, making you shiver uncontrollably on your way back home. In your haste you had totally forgotten your coat at Yoongi’s place. Perhaps you deserve to freeze for messing it up with him again. God, you could slap your past-self straight across her stupid, nosy face.

Sleep comes hard for you that night. Even with three blankets covering you, you can’t stop shivering. When sleep does finally come, after two hours of tossing and turning, the ringing of your phone wakes you up mercilessly just twenty minutes after drifting off.

You don’t even check the caller, instantly rejecting them. You curse them loudly, pressing the palms of your hands to your tired eyes. They can’t be serious, who on earth thinks that two in the morning is a reasonable time to call someone. Perhaps it had been Jungkook or Jimin calling, to try and get your forgiveness. Well, now they sure won’t get it.

The caller tries again, you can feel the vibration of your phone first before the loud ringtone blasts through the silent room.

You groan, reaching for the phone to pick up. You don’t even care to check the caller's ID, your only goal is to tell the person calling off in the rudest way possible.

“___?” Yoongi’s voice makes you instantly swallow down the insults.

He sounds even raspier on the phone.

“Yes?”

“They disowned me and told me to never come back once t-they found out that, t-that I won’t perform.”

Your hazy mind needs a moment to register his words. Who is he talking about?

“And now we, we don’t-“, Yoongi swallows hard, “-we don’t talk anymore. T-they cut my allowance and, and took away m-my apartment”, he sighs, takes a shaky breath, “and now they want me to, to pay them back the, the school’s fee.”

And then it clicks. Like pieces of a domino everything falls into place. His parents, he is talking about his parents.

“Yoongi I-. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your f-fault.”

“It kind of is, I asked this stupid question and made you think of something so painful. I feel like I’m forcing you to think of something you don’t even want to think about.”

“You’re not forcing me. I wanted t-to tell you. I couldn’t sleep because I kept thinking about you, no I mean, not y-you, but how you left. And I was so scared that, that I messed it up again, that’s why I, I called to m-make it right. I'm s-sorry for t-turning my back on y-you.”

“There is nothing to make right here Yoongi. I’m not mad at you.”

Yoongi lets out a sigh of relief.

“Thank god, I thought I ruined everything.”

“You didn’t.”

You smile, closing your eyes, imagining his face, his smell, how his arms would feel wrapped around you. And little did you know, Yoongi is doing the exact same thing, resting his head on a pillow in hopes it would feel just like your shoulder.

He whispers your name.

“Yes?”

“Do you think I could show them?”

“Show who?”

“My parents at the competition, that I started to, to perform.

“Of course you can, you just have to invite them.”

Yoongi hums a yes as he tightens his arms around his pillows. Silence, all you can hear is his steady breathing and the ticking of your alarm clock.

“Yoongi?”

“Yes?”

“You’re not falling asleep are you?”

“No-“, he yawns, “-I’m thinking.”

“About?”

“The competition. I’m-“, he takes a shaky breath, “I’m so scared.”

“Don’t be, I’m sure you��ll nail it.”

“B-but what if I blush? Or, or freeze? Or forget everything? I’m so scared ___”, he sounds so small.

“Hey Yoongi, don't think about the what ifs too much. You still have one week to go, that’s enough time to perfect your play and work on your stage fright.”

“Will you help me?” he sounds quiet, hopeful.

“I would love to help you. I could start anytime, tomorrow, next Tuesday, right now. You name it.”

Yoongi laughs at your enthusiasm, loudly and heartfelt. The sound is new to you, leaving you almost breathless.

“T-tomorrow maybe?” he is still laughing carelessly.

“Sure let’s make it tomorrow then”, your heart races in your chest.

Yoongi smiles, hugging his pillow tighter to his body and nuzzling his face into it.

“Nice”, he breathes.

“Nice. I’ll bring some snacks as well.”

“Okay.”

You both take a deep breath, grinning from ear to ear. You feel excited, your body is prickling, like millions of ants crawl through your veins, your heart is racing.

“So I guess that’s official then?”

Yoongi hums a yes, nodding his head eventhough you can’t see him.

“Cool. See you tomorrow then”, you say as calmly as possible.

“See you tomorrow.”

You are in the middle of ending the call when Yoongi calls your name.

“Yes Yoongi?”

“Sweet d-dreams”, he whispers fondly.

You smile.

“Sweet dreams to you too. Good night.”

“Good night.”

And with that you both end the call at the same time with happiness in your heart and butterflies in your stomachs.

You arrive at the practice room at exactly ten minutes past eleven. The school is long empty and the hallways quiet. So is the practice room. In fact it is so quiet you are scared Yoongi might have forgotten about your arrangement.

That is until you twist the doorknob, revealing a moonlit practice room and Yoongi leaning against the window sill whilst staring out into the night. He has his back turned to you and earbuds in. His fingers tap on the black marble window sill to the melody of the song he is listening to. Tiny hums leave him, a little higher in pitch than his normal talking voice. It brings a smile to your face. He really is a cute man when he thinks no one is watching.

"Someone seems to be in a good mood tonight", you say as you flick the light switch on.

Yoongi flinches, gasping in shock before he twists around. He blinks rapidly, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the sudden bright lights.

"You just, shit, you scared me so m-much", he pants, pressing his hand flat to his chest.

You stifle a laugh at seeing his expression. His eyes are widened comically big and his eyebrows are raised high with his lips curled into a small pout.

"Sorry I thought you heard me come in."

Yoongi removes his earbuds, turns his music off and puts his phone on the window sill.

"I didn't. I listened t-to music", he blushes, scratching the back of his neck.

"I figured, I liked the little hums you did. They sounded great", you tell him.

Yoongi’s eyes widen.

"What?" he gasps, "you, you heard t-that?"

"Just a little yeah."

Yoongi starts fumbling with the sleeves of his flannel, seemingly embarrassed. He avoids looking at you, instead his head is lowered.

"Should I be scared of competition now?" you joke.

Yoongi laughs, raising his head and waving his hands “no”.

"No, no I c-could never do what you d-do. It's too stressful", he chuckles.

You join his laughter, breaking the distance between the two of you now that the first initial discomfort had been broken.

"Says the pianist out of the two of us. Playing the piano is stressful too."

"I guess", his eyes race as he is thinking hard, "it's p-probably because I, I know what I, I am doing whilst playing the, the piano that, that I don't see it as stressful. Same as you with singing, r-right?"

He looks at you expectantly, tilting his head slightly to the right.

"Now that you put it like that. Yes that's right."

He grins when getting your approval that his theory is correct.

"Speaking of knowing what you are doing. How is practice going? Did you practice some before I arrived here?" you point at the black grand piano.

The cover is opened, the chair slightly dragged out from underneath the piano and sheet music rests in its designated stand.

"A little", Yoongi mumbles, combing his fingers through his hair awkwardly.

Suddenly he sighs.

"I d-don't know if I can do it", he confesses as his shoulders sag in defeat.

"Hey", you pat his arm reassuringly, "I won't judge you, promise."

He looks at you, the fond smile on his face making your heart beat faster in your chest.

"Do you perhaps want to try now?" you have to swallow from the way Yoongi’s eyes sparkle for you.

Did it get warmer in this room? Your cheeks feel terribly hot right now.

"Okay", he nods his head.

He shuffles to the piano and sits down on the chair. He stares at the keys and sheet music whilst biting on his nails, his left leg is fidgeting up and down under the piano. He looks tense and anxious, it almost reminds you of Yoongi in the first few days of meeting him.

"Okay", he whispers to encourage himself.

He puts his hands on the keys, they start visibly shaking. His breathing gets ragged.

"Do you want a break?" you suggest, keeping your distance as to not overwhelm him even more.

His shoulders rise to his ears, his hands clench to fists.

"B-breathe, I j-just need t-to b-breathe", he says quietly.

He takes a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling loudly. From where you are standing you can see that he has his eyes closed as he continuously breathes in and out.

You keep quiet the entire time, waiting patiently until he calms down enough to open his eyes again. He takes a quick glance at you. He is blushing.

"I'm sorry", he murmurs.

"Don't apologize. It's okay", you assure him.

Yoongi nods his head thankfully.

"I'll t-try now", he says before looking back at the piano.

His fingers hit the keys, shrill at first, almost as if he wanted to see if the piano actually works. When it is very clear for both of you that it does work, the shrill key smashing quickly turns into light notes. The melody normally is fast paced and loud but Yoongi takes his time with the notes, playing everything slow and calculated. It doesn't sound like his play at all, he is almost forcing the piano to produce sound.

And Yoongi senses it as his fingers soon stop on the keys.

"This sounded terrible. I'm s-sorry", he sounds sad.

His head is lowered, the once happy expression from his face wiped away.

"No it's okay. That was just you warming up your fingers, I get it."

You have found a chair to sit down, watching him from his right side.

"Yeah, warming up”, he mumbles, nodding.

He likes this excuse, warming up never has to sound nice. You aren’t judging him right now. That thought makes him feel weirdly at ease.

He cracks his knuckles, rolling his head to stretch his neck.

His fingers land on the keys again, he starts playing. He plays faster this time, louder as well and definitely with more confidence in himself. You can hear the first nuances of Yoongi in the melody. It's still faint, like he doesn’t quite want to come out of hiding yet. But slowly, very slowly, the air around you begins to dance, asking you to get lost in the melody with it.

That is until his finger slips off the keys from being sweaty and a shrill note pierces through the air.

Yoongi winces, instantly hiding his face behind his hands. You can hear him mumble curse words under his breath, most of them are muffled by his hands.

“I’m such a failure”, he whines loudly enough for you to hear.

“Hey Yoongi don’t”, you stand up and walk to the piano to sit down next to him.

You place your hand on his arm, his muscle tensing up at your touch. His hands fall from his face to stare at you instead. He looks totally taken aback by your touch, his eyes racing between yours.

“You’re not a failure”, you assure him, giving his arm a gentle squeeze.

“I am”, he mumbles.

“Don’t do that”, you didn’t intend for your voice to come out angry, but it still did.

Yoongi tilts his head to the side in question, raising one of his eyebrows.

“Stop talking so badly about yourself. You wouldn’t want other people talking to you like that, would you?”

Yoongi shakes his head.

“No I, I wouldn’t.”

“So why are you allowing yourself to talk so badly about your own abilities?”

“I-“, Yoongi lowers his head, “-don’t know”, he mumbles quietly.

Sensing his need for comfort you caress his arm with gentle fingers. Maybe you had imagined it, but it almost seemed like Yoongi had leaned into your touch as his eyes flutter shut for the briefest of moments.

“You are so hardworking and you will play this song perfectly, because you are such a talented person”, you encourage him.

He blushes and smiles.

“Okay, I, I will”, he says as he turns back to the keys again.

His fingers instantly land on the right notes, starting to play. They seem to dance over the keys, moving in perfect sync of the melody with such speed your eyes can’t keep up. Soon all you can see is the beautiful picture the music paints in your head. Fallen leaves of trees as high as mountains dance through a stormy night as they go on their long journey to the far away ground. A wild mountain spring carves its way ruthlessly through the dark stone and in the distance the last shine of the setting sun gets swallowed by the high mountains. Darkness eats light and out of the darkness new light gets born.

“Oh no”, Yoongi rips you out of your daydreams.

You look at him. His face looks paler than usual, his eyes stare emptily at his fingers on the keys. He is breathing hard, his jaw is clenched.

“I messed up.”

He sighs tiredly, pressing his palms flat to his face. He groans loudly.

“I, I can’t. I, just, I can’t”, he breathes heavily, shaking his head.

Watching him beat himself up over such a minor thing hurts your heart. You place a comforting hand over his, revealing his face to you as you pull his palms closer to you. He lets you, watching you with big eyes and surprise glistening in them.

You smile.

"Tell me when did you realise that music was the thing you wanted to do in life?" you ask.

Maybe changing the topic for a moment and making Yoongi think of something other than having to play the piano will help him calm down. Yoongi raises one of his eyebrows, tilting his head to the side.

"I, I don't know, w-when I was a, a child", he finally says, scratching the back of his head.

"Oh really? I did too", you chuckle.

Yoongi lowers his head, staring at the keys. He still doesn't quite get why you so suddenly changed topics. Or why you are sitting so close all of a sudden or holding his hand for that matter. God, your presence makes him feel so dizzy, his heart races like crazy in his tight chest. He knows exactly why he messed up, you are so close it is impossible to concentrate on anything other than your presence.

"D-did you always know that you w-want to be a, a musician?" he asks.

His fingers had unintentionally started playing with yours, tracing your skin gently.

"I think I kind of did, yeah. Maybe I didn't quite realise it at first but deep down in my heart I always knew I wanted to one day be a musician."

Yoongi doesn't say anything, instead he keeps looking at you with curious eyes. He is listening intently to what you are saying.

"What about you? Did you always know you wanted to be a musician?" you ask.

Yoongi nods his head vigorously with a confident look on his face. He looks away, staring at the piano with a dreamy gaze.

"Yes I, I did. I love m-music, I-I really d-do. I a-always d-did. Music always m-made me feel safe and l-like I can be the real me, without having to think of other people's opinions. That's why I became a musician because I can escape reality even if it's just for a short moment. Playing the piano makes me so happy", he smiles, "when I close my eyes and I feel my fingers touch the cold keys of the piano my whole body feels so light, like I can fly, and once that first note rings in my ears I kind of forget myself", he chuckles, "yes, I can really forget everything around me when I'm with my music. I love that feeling", he smiles brightly.

Silence. You simply stare at him with big eyes and your heart racing in your chest. Yoongi, who had noticed your silence, turns his head to look at you confused.

"W-what?"

"Nothing, you just-", you send him a fond smile, "-didn't stutter right now."

Yoongi’s lips become o-shaped, his eyes grow big. It almost seems like he is shocked by your words.

"Oh", he whispers.

"Yeah", you breathe, smiling.

He is smiling too, more with his eyes than his lips, beautiful indeed.

You keep looking at each other, lost in one another's eyes. Two little galaxies glimmer in his dark brown orbs, the beauty of them so immense you feel heat rise to your cheeks. You can hear him breathe, it is the softest sound your ears have ever taken in. Your eyes break contact, flickering down to his lips. They are parted, as pink as always, glistening in the lights. They would probably feel so soft on yours.

Your stomach does somersaults at your thought, your heart speeds up.

You want to kiss him so badly, want to ghost your lips over his and earn a shy gasp from him. You want to tangle your fingers in his dark hair and make him shiver, his hair would probably feel so soft on your skin.

Yes, you really want to feel him close right now, show him just how beautiful he is when he is talking about his passions.

Your fingers around his hand tighten, your knees brush against his as you scoot closer, your eyes still stare at his lips.

Yoongi’s breathing quickens, his cheeks heat up. He had noticed your eyes staring at his lips. It excites him so much, makes his heart race quickly. His fingers clutch the material of his pants, his palms feel sweaty. He is so nervous. What if he read the signs wrong and your eyes just randomly zoned out on his lips? Would you scream if he tried to kiss you, maybe even slap him and call him a pervert?

He has to risk it, even if it means getting his heart broken and his pride hurt.

He leans forward just the tiniest bit, his eyes are fixated on your lips, mesmerized by them. He holds his breath, all he can hear is his own heartbeat.

You however are far too embarrassed about your mind wandering to notice it. You turn your head away in nervousness, laughing awkwardly. Yoongi stops himself midair, nearly falling into you if he hadn't held onto the piano.

"Not that I mind your stutter of course, but I'm glad that you feel relaxed enough now", you blurt out as your attempt at saving the situation. You pull your hand away from his, hiding it in the pockets of your hoodie instead.

Yoongi must think you are a total weirdo, staring at his lips like that. Hopefully you were able to defuse the situation from becoming too uncomfortable for him.

Yoongi pulls back, turning his head to stare at the piano. He scratches the back of his neck, clearing his throat. Fuck, his chest aches so much right now.

"Y-yeah", he mumbles, biting the inside of his cheek afterwards.

"Anyways. Uhm, do you want to try again?" you ask.

“Mhm?” he stares at your lips again. His heart does somersaults in his chest, he has to stop himself from giggling. Perhaps you changed your mind, perhaps you do want to kiss him.

“The piano, do you think you feel confident enough to try it again?”

“Oh”, he quickly looks away, “that’s what you were talking about.”

“What else did you think I was talking about?” you tilt your head to the side, clearly confused by the disappointment in his voice.

“Nothing! I just-. Nothing”, he laughs awkwardly.

You force a chuckle out of you, feeling the need to cup your burning ears.

“Alright cool”, you mumble, clearing your throat afterwards.

The air around you feels so tense. You feel hot, the thick sweater you are wearing making you sweat. You really want to jump up and scream right now, the pressure in your chest gets close to unbearable. Yoongi is so quiet next to you. Why is he so quiet? Is he judging you for nervously fidgeting on the chair next to him? Is he studying the sheet music?

You look at him, meeting his eyes. You look away, biting the inside of your mouth. Why is he staring at you? He must be judging you right now, probably regretting ever inviting you to practice.

“Sorry”, you quickly stumble to your feet, backing away from him, “this is so weird right now.”

“Mhm mhm”, he brushes his fingers through his hair, sighing tiredly.

“You want to keep going?” you laugh nervously.

Yoongi eyes you for a moment in complete silence before he breaks the silence with a loud sigh.

“What are we even doing here?” he asks as he stands up from the piano.

“Practicing your play, what else should there be?”

“Okay, so you think this-“, he gestures between you and him, “-is normal? Like, like there isn’t something else going on here?”

“Something else? Yoongi, what exactly are you talking about?”

You avoid looking at him in fear of him noticing the panic in your eyes.

“You say all these nice things to me. You are convinced I’m a, a good guy, despite knowing nothing about me. And then you, you hold my hand and try to kiss me only to pull away again.”

“I didn’t try to kiss you, don’t be ridiculous”, you want nothing more than for the floor to swallow you whole right now.

“You are just using me aren’t you? To go laugh with your friends Jimin and Jungkook about me later. Right? That’s what this is all about, get the school pervert to like you so you have another thing you can spread around and make fun of.”

His face is contorted in anger, his jaw clenched and his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“And now that I’m actually starting to, to show interest you pull back, because kissing me would be the most disgusting thing ever. R-right?”

“What?” you shake your head, “No, it isn’t. Yoongi I would never”, you break the distance between the two of you, reaching out to take his hands into yours.

He steps back, hiding his hands behind his back.

“Don’t, just leave me alone”, he warns.

“Do you not believe me?” you ask, feeling your heart break already.

“You wouldn’t be the first one”, he scoffs, “I’m so s-stupid for falling for you. Why did I even think you would be any different from the other rats?”

You turn your back to him, not wanting him to see the hurt on your face.

“Well, the difference is that I actually tried to be your friend because I genuinely like you, but apparently you are too stubborn to accept that. And maybe I tried to kiss you because I’m having the biggest crush on you ever and I’m just too shy to act on my feelings, but of course I’m just a devious rat in your eyes.”

He blinks in surprise before your name falls from his lips.

“No it’s okay Yoongi. I get it, you don’t want to let people in, you think you are better off alone and that no one will ever genuinely love you. I get it”, you turn to him to get one last look at him.

He doesn’t meet your eyes, instead he stares at the floor with a clenched jaw.

“I’ll tell Taehyung to help you from now on.”

He nods.

“See you around, good luck at the competition.”

Yoongi says your name, finally looking up only to see you have already closed the door behind you.

“Don’t go please”, he whispers.

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unikornu · 4 years ago

Photo

Page 1 - Career Change - Pre-war memories of Lucy Feit,

- Hey sweetheart, you okay in there? Ian knocked softly on a bathroom door as he heard Lucy coughing a bit too much than she should.

- Yes, im fine, don’t you worry. I’m probably just catching a cold after we got washed by that rain last evening. Lucy washed the blood droplets from the bottom of the sink and wiped her mouth with towel. She lied. It wasn’t a cold, but an irritation and small wounds that still remained after an incident in the cellar with court mobsters.

-There she is, all formal but still beautiful. Ian commented as she left the bathroom, putting the black leather jacket on and sweeping the dust from her pencil grey skirt.

-Have to make a good first impression at new job eh? I mean from a national court to an private low investigator office, that is quite a drop. She laughed and threw her hands around Ian neck kissing him in the lips.

She met Ian at the practice shooting center where she was having her first experience with a pistol. He was working there during day time and taking some evening shifts aswell as a bodyguard at the local club. Ian was tall, well built, with a bush of messy short black hair and always slightly unshaved, rough at the lower bottom of his face. Felt good for Lucy to brush the palm of her hand through his chin. He had a weakness for mysterious petite beauties like her and she couldn’t resist the charm flowing from his smile and shine of misty grey eyes as he offered her help that day and a coffee.

Lucy was living in a one big room apartment in tenement house. Walls were filled with red-orange bricks, a few plants placed in a corners and on the window to make it more friendly for the eye and her clothes and papers scattered all over the desk and bed. It wasn’t good for both of them to live there but it was good enough to spend a night together. At least there were never tired of seeing each other too much as both of them were busy on daily basics but at the evening they were always coming back to meet either at his or her place.

- I still don’t know why you dropped such a good position. I mean from a court office to some assistant investigator for this weird old guy. That is indeed quite a drop hon. Ian chuckled and gave her one more kiss on her forehead after she pulled off.

- Well, i hate the amount of responsibility i had there and this is gonna be more thrilling than just sitting in the office, i mean cmon, i’m gonna see the actual crime scene, not just stupid papers. She smiled and grabbed her bag from the counter shoving some papers in and hiding her worried face behind the blond hair after reminding herself why she actually almost ran away from there.

-Don’t forget, at eight at our bar. Ian poked her shoulder and winked at her before she left.

-Oh i won’t. Love you. She winked back at him and closed the door behind her.

As she arrived to slightly older building she checked double the location written on the paper for her new work place directed by the new boss before entering. She stepped up towards the big double winged door and approached a woman sitting behind the desk, all busy with a newspaper and sharpening her nails.

-Uh..excuse me..is this Mr. Harrison’s office? She asked looking around pondering if its the right place. The building looked almost like an abandoned type but still good enough for a living conditions.

-I would not call this an office but yes, Harrison is waiting for you, through hallway, first door to the right. She could only see a clump of black waved hair sticking out of the paper responding to her.

The building felt empty, almost like there only Mr Harrison and his secretary. She stopped at the door having a gold plaque with his name and knocked.

-Come in! A firm voice responded. Lucy dropped the bag from her shoulder and entered.

-Mr Harrison? I’m Lucy Feit...from the..court. I got directed by the....

- I know, i know it all, just come and grab a chair, kid. He was sitting backwards in a big black chair. As she took a sit in front of his desk he spun back towards her.

Harrison was a retired black policeman around at his 50′s dressed formally in a white crumpled chemise, hell of a good one in his career at the better days but eventually life mistakes got him thrown out and forced to continue his business on his own as a private investigator. He didn’t have any family anymore, not a one that would accept him back anyway so he took a long stay in his office and eventually called it home along with his secretary Shanice. They were taking on a small or more mysterious cases that police didn’t care much about trying to avoid a hassle with a mighty ass court as he could while still staying on their good side. At least its what they thought.

- Look kid, i know your story. Me and our Boss, we know each other for quite a while. Are you really sure u want to get yourself into this shit? It ain’t gonna be easy and i don’t want another fucking dead rookie just because he thought that being all gangsta is cool enough to keep his feet on the ground. He scanned her looking doubtfully and raising his brow. Lucy swallowed and took a deep breath before responding.

- I am sure sir. I know the risks and i fully accept them, sir. Harrison put the elbows on the desk and pressed his clenched fists to the mouth. After a few seconds of deep thought he pulled a pistol out of a drawer and handed it to her.

- Reload and shoot something. I don’t care what, just not my whiskey. Lucy took a pistol from his hand and did as he ordered. Ian taught her well on that. She shot a glass on a shelf behind his head and handed the pistol back.

- Alright, tomorrow u start. We have a murder case and u gonna go with me first. Hope you have a stomach for it. Today we will talk how the things work here and where we keep the other archives for our Boss including the evidence that we would rather keep to ourselves. So listen because i won’t be repeating myself twice and if you fuck up it is gonna be your ass to shoot or worse...

- She nodded and followed Harrison as he walked her through the office and rooms hidden behind the cabinets. It was quite impressive how many secrets this old dusty building had along with its owner. His office was legally registered, taking in any small or nasty case that the policemen didn’t care about or helping the gang to clean some shit after them occasionally. It was a new start for her life and just a first step into the shadier part of it. The evening arrived faster than she thought.

- There’s my action girl. Late as always. Ian waited outside the bar spinning a rose in his fingers.

- Sorry, there was a lot to take in and my boss wanted to be done with introduction today. She gave him a long kiss, good enough to forgive her being late.

- Harrison uh? I remember that man...quite a figure back in days. Didn’t know he is still working. Ian put a hand on her back and entered to the bar with her.

- Actually he is in a quite good shape and he is actually still working, just privately now. I think it is gonna be perfect for me. Smaller office and i might just learn a thing or two from him. She skipped all the parts that she couldn’t let Ian to know. He was the only good and positive thing keeping her mind in a proper set at the end of each day. Letting her forget the schemes and wash away dirt while melting in his arms each night. He never knew and she wouldn’t dare to tell him from fear of losing him. It was perfect set up after all.

- How did your training go? Bodyguarding and looking tough is not good enough for you anymore? Lucy smiled at him, joking as they sat at the table.

- Heh, just looking tough can be boring without throwing some punches here and there in a while. He joked back and ordered two beers.

- Cmon Ian, being a professional soldier isn’t the same thing. You will be gone out there longer than you think. Aren’t u scared? She reached with her hand towards his and squeezed it gently.

- No i’m not. I always wanted to do this. I have just one life sweetheart so not much else to lose, other than missing on this pretty face. He brushed a cheek with his thumb and pulled her for a kiss.

- We still have a lot of time so don’t worry about me. Today let’s have a toast for your new career and maybe a small treat later at your place eh? He clinked a bottles with her and grinned with corner of his lips.

- How about we take that beer outside and head there right away? She smiled back and walked towards home with Ian’s arm around her waist pushing her to him. They finished their beer at the stairs to the building talking and laughing. They started kissing already in a hallway, going towards her apartment stumbling on the walls. She loved him, the feeling of safety in his arms holding her at night in bed and a assurance that she didn’t remain alone at the end of each day, no matter what happened through it.

_____________________________________

Note: So i decided to try write some pages of my oc memories/diary from the pre-war times as the current ones i posted only mention something here and there, not very clearly. To introduce how she got into the gangs and how her work looked it and people she met. This is very first basic introduction of sort ofc, not saying much but i will be scribbling more going deeper and closer to the explosion. I skip past her job at court and brutal incident that gave her a bloodworm/leech trauma as i am not skilled enough to write such a brutal scenes. (im a total random just writing some stuff coming up randomly to my head) So ye..after the court incident the gang member who she defended before and helped her get healed directed her to work at Harrison office to put some of her skills to good use and give her a safe workplace as Harrison was also in a contact with gangs. Ian never knew what she was doing other than changing her profession to a investigator’s assistant and working with the man. After all everyone thought he is legal and no one bothered with old retired man. I will be getting later to all the night club stuff and deeper into that shit. Cheers.

#fallout 4 #fo4 #lucy's pre-war diary #lucy feit #pre-war memories #i like aesthetics so i will be using those for these pages as oppose to shots from game for current ones #source of aesthetics - well half of google ofc

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barb-aricyawp · 5 years ago

Note

Oh wait, I meant 8 and 11 for Spidey, my bad lol

I was sincerely hoping someone would request the staple gun + captivity for Peter. Thanks for coming through for me! (for torture tuesday)

trigger warnings: fingore, shocking I know.

Peter waits until the house is quiet. Until the man has gone to bed. He locks Peter’s room from the outside, but Peter stole a key this morning. Now is his chance.

He holds his breath as he turns the key in the lock. Even the snick of the deadbolt seems to echo down the hall. The man sleeps in the room next to Peter’s.

He must be silent.

Peter is light on the balls of his feet as he streaks down the hall. He’s really, really not allowed to crawl (Feet belong on the floor, Peter) but Peter skitters down the wall when he gets to the stairs. They creak.

He’s careful not to knock down the pictures. He avoids the glass lamp at the base of the stairs that he always crashes into on accident (Good boys aren’t clumsy, Peter). He even manages to slide out the chain and unlock several deadbolts silently.

But when Peter tries to open the door, it snags on a deadbolt that he missed. The metal bolt collides with heavy wood, and the thump resounds through the house.

The man’s light turns on. He thunders towards the stairs, calling, “Peter?”

The sound of his voice shocks terror down Peter’s spine and through his limbs. His fingers shake as he twists the lock he missed. As he throws open the door. Cool night air hits his face.

The outdoors. Peter hasn’t been outdoors in months.

The door slams shut with Peter’s hand still encircling the knob. He whips around to the man, already pleading with him.

“I’m sorry,” he begs. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t going to leave. I just wanted to see the outside. I wasn’t going to - I promise I wasn’t going to leave.”

The man seizes him by the bicep and hauls him away from the door. For a brief moment of hope, it seems like he might take Peter back upstairs. But then he drags him towards the kitchen.

Where the door to the cellar is.

Peter starts pleading in earnest now. “I would never leave you, I wouldn’t. I swear. I - I love you. I love you! I just wanted to see the moon, the stars. Please, sir. I love you, I need you, I–”

“You need help keeping you in place,” the man says. He doesn’t pause to allow Peter to find his feet when he stumbles on the stairs. When they reach the bottom, he drops Peter. “But don’t worry, I’ll help you.”

Peter gets to his knees. He rubs his nose. He doesn’t want to say it, but he does: “Thank you, sir.”

The man turns on the bare lightbulb that hangs from the low cellar ceiling. He goes to his workbench, where all the tools are. “You’re welcome, Peter. Now go stand against the wall.”

Peter cringes. The man is referring to the only wooden wall in the cellar. That’s the wall where Peter is punished. He hates it. Has shrieking nightmares about it. But he goes anyway, standing with his forehead pressed to the cheap pine.

“Good boy,” the man says, a soft rumble that triggers instinctual endorphins in Peter’s traitor brain. “Now put your hands on the wall next to you.”

Peter flinches. It’s always the hands.

So he’s surprised when flat metal brushes against his temple, pinning his ear to the wood. There’s a loud clunking sound next to his head. And then a sharp pressure lances through his ear. When he tries to jerk his head back to see what the man just did to him, he can’t move it.

His ear is pinned to the wall.

As far as pain goes, Peter has experienced worse. What scares him is not knowing. Forgetting himself, Peter reaches up to feel along the shell of his ear. A thin bar of metal lays laterally in his cartilage.

“Peter,” the man says lowly and Peter instantly recognizes his mistake.

He slaps his palm back against the wall, but it’s too late. He’s already disobeyed. No amount of obedience will undo that.

“You just can’t stay put, can you?”

The flat metal is pressed to knuckle of Peter’s middle finger. And this time, he can see what it is. Correction: he’s forced to see what it is, head pinned in place as it is.

It’s a staple gun.

The big, chunky kind with thick, industrial staples. Peter curls his fingers in, frightened.

“Please, sir, I didn’t mean to. I was just scared. I–”

That thick clunking sound. The staple’s prongs graze either side of Peter’s knuckle, ripping through skin to pin his finger to the wall. It stings, but it isn’t agony. The man shoots the staple gun four more times, one for each finger.

When he gets to the thumb, it’s too wide to be framed by the staple. One prong goes in and curls around the thin bone of his thumb. Pinching a centimeter of flesh in its fold. It hurts enough to prick tears in Peter’s eyes.

“Try to move your hand now, Peter.”

His cheek is pressed flush to the wood, pinned by the ear. Both hands shake uncontrollably, even the one that hasn’t been stapled to the wall. Without any heart, Peter tugs his fingers against the staples. They stay put.

The man steps back, resting the staple gun on the work bench. “I’ll leave you here to think about what you’ve done.” He turns off the light and marches upstairs. “Don’t go anywhere, Peter.”

#torture tuesday #whump peter parker #peter parker angst #staple gun #gore #Anonymous

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znationfanfiction · 7 years ago

Text

New Orleans, Pt. 2

Chapter four of my fanfic!! I hope anyone who reads this enjoys it. Feel free to message me and reblog it!! (Just no stealing it please). Trigger Warnings: panic attack, some violence, a make-out scene (I'm a thirsty bitch, what can I say?), mature language. ------------------- "Alright, well it seems like we still have a little time before that zunami gets to us, so we'll split up and look for supplies. Addy's with Doc, Murphy will go with me and Vasquez, and Tally and 10k will go together. Search stores and houses and we'll meet back here", Warren orders. "Aye-aye, cap'n", I drawl. Murphy snorts and I wink at him. 10k and I start toward some of the houses in a small neighborhood off the main street, searching for anything we can find. As we meander down the side streets, I sing quietly to myself. It's a tendency that seemed to carry over from pre-Z. I did it when I was nervous. The combination of being alone with 10k is enough to make my palms sweat and my mouth feel stuffed with cotton...add jump-scares from Zs into that mix, and you get a very nervous Tally. "Little black submarines, operator please, patch me back to my mind...", I sing quietly to myself. We go up the stairs onto a small, cramped porch. He opens the door cautiously for me, and take a deep breath before I step around it into the eerie house. "Oh , can it be, the voices calling me, they get lost and out of time", I sing as loud as I dare, trying to draw any Zs out. Two loud snarls echo through the foyer and the zombies they came from lurch from the living room at us. We each grab one and pike them. "4106", 10k murmurs, looking to me. I shrug. "Guess they didn't like my voice". He lets out a soft, short laugh at that. "Well, I think you sound amazing". Ugh, so cute and sweet and I just want him to kiss me so bad... I smile and our bodies unconsciously inch toward each other, as if they are magnetic. Becoming too aware of this, I take a step back. Whew, that was close. Too close. Don't go fucking this up, Tally. He probably doesn't even like you like that. He just doesn't have many other choices in females. Just focus. I send him a soft smile. "We should hurry up and get those supplies before we get overrun", I manage to get out. He nods, looking...disappointed? We manage to scrape up a couple gallons of water stored in old bleach containers. "Smart", nods 10k as he hoists one into his pack. Too bad the kitchen was completely empty otherwise. Someone tried to leave in a hurry, for certain. Too bad they didn't seem to get very far. "I'm gonna look for some clothes up in the bedrooms. We are starting to look pretty ratty, even for us." "I'll go with you". He throws the pack on his back and we quickly ascend the stairs, weapons ready in case we missed a particularly sneaky Z. We both huff a sigh of relief when we encounter no other zombies. "Let's check out that master bedroom, see if we can find any clothes that fit", he whispered. It's hard to break the habit of whispering to keep under the radar of anyone listening, like Zs. I nod and we walk to the bedroom, immediately going through drawers and the closet for anything practical. We hit a huge jackpot. The men's clothes seem to fit 10k pretty well, and we find some old fatigue pants in a couple different sizes. "They must have both been military", I say. A small sadness washes over me at the thought of so many lives, just snuffed out. Lost. Gone. I shake my head to clear the thoughts. We quickly change in separate rooms and meet back in the bedroom to stuff another few clothing articles in our bags. We can ditch the clothes later if we run out of room for supplies. We both dress in the fatigue pants and stuff them into our boots. I dress in a tank top that fits close to the skin so I don't get grabbed as easily, and we start to head out the door. Not paying attention is a huge mistake in the zombie apocalypse. I know that, and so does everyone else. So when I bumble out the front door and straight into a cool, rotting body, it's entirely my fault. 10k rips the Z from me, piking in the head. Yet another reason to thank God every day for 10k. I take in gasping breaths, stunned by almost being zombie food. 10k checks me for bites, hands smoothing over my arms and neck to ensure I am okay. Surprising us both, I grab his face and plant a big kiss right on his cheek. Oooh fuck. What did you just do, you absolute DUMBASS?! You've gone and screwed up everything! "I-I'm sorry...just, thank you so much for saving me. What a dumbass mistake to make, just waltzing out the door like that...", I stammer out as I try to fix this whole awkward mess of a situation. The look on his bright red face worries me, so when he breaks into a grin, my heart finally starts beating again. "No, it's...it's okay. We watch out for each other. It's what we all do", he says, hesitantly taking my hand in his own. This time, it's not either of us that stops the moment. It's a huge wall of zombies coming right for us. We run around the back of the house, looking for some sort of shelter. My foot catches something raised in the backyard, and 10k is just turning back to help me up when I realize that my clumsy ass just tripped over a cellar door. We both throw the doors open and hop down inside. He shuts the doors again and slides a metal pipe through the inside handles. "Shit. The group's gonna be so worried. Shit", I fret, pacing our small space before realizing that we are surrounded by a small amount of supplies. Cans, more bleach containers, and jars of food sit on shelves around us and I nearly burst into tears. Fucking jackpot. I do a small celebration dance while 10k looks on at me in amusement. He's much more observant than I am, and noticed the supplies as soon as we hopped down. "What now?", I ask, watching as he sits against a bare wall and makes himself comfortable. "We wait it out. The group's probably hiding somewhere too". ------------------------ The first 10 minutes of silence in the cellar aside from the occasional scuffle or grunt of a zombie is unbearable to me because I become so anxious. My chest tightens up and I feel as if I can't get enough air in my lungs. I feel trapped and horrified at the thought of the zombies busting down the doors and eating us alive. So helpless. 10k notices my shallow, strained breaths and scoots over to sit by me. He hesitantly grabs my hand and squeezes it, then moves close to murmur comforting words to me. Slowly, my chest untightens and I can breathe again. I look up to his face to thank him, grateful that he helped me through the panic, to find his eyes on me. His face is just inches from mine, and the proximity has my pulse hammering. I've noticed him watching me a lot when we are with the group, and I always get so self-conscious because I'm worried he's thinking about how strange I am or how bad I look with my curls frizzed and sticking up at all angles from my braid. But...the way he is looking at me now sets a fire loose deep in my chest. He starts to lean in closer and my eyes widen as his hand comes up to touch the back of my neck. Suddenly, our lips are pressed together. A whole horde of rabid Zs are set free in my chest, and my hands come up to grasp his collar, my body finally breaking from the shocked state and responding to him. His lips are soft and the kiss is everything a first kiss should be. His breath is sweet as it mixes with my own. We both pant as the gentle kiss turns hungry, desperate. 10k tightens his grip on me and his hands slide down my shoulders to my lower back, pulling me flush against his body. Tongues explore mouths and teeth knock together slightly. A noise I've never heard come from myself escapes my throat, like a noise a wild animal would make, and he responds with his own deep groan. The kiss slows after a while and we pull back to look at each other, still panting and both very red. A smile lights up his face in a way I've never seen on him, and I can't help but respond with my own. "I've wanted to do that forever", he mutters, "but I was always afraid to mess up us being friends". "Me too", I chuckle. His face turns slightly more serious. "That was a-actually my first...", he trails off. His first kiss? Him? But he's so perfect and cute and who wouldn't want to kiss him?? "Well", I grin, "I guess we will just have to do that some more to practice". I wink at him and he laughs, bringing my lips back to his own.

#z nation #10k #10k z nation #10k fic #fanfic #fanfiction #story #z nation fanfiction #addy carver #Murphy #roberta warren #doc #masterlist

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emo-space-tea · 3 years ago

Text

The Bowers Gang and IT

NOT MY GIF

Chapter 6 (Part 2)

~3rd Person POV, Beverly~

Meanwhile, Beverly got home and went to her room to empty her backpack. While doing so a letter fell out of her bag. She didn't recognize it so she picked it up and went to the bathroom. She walked to the bathtub and sat down in it, then read,

Your hair is winter fire,

January Embers,

My heart burns there too.

After reading, The redhead smiled to herself and held the poem to her heart.

Then she heard a voice, "Beverly."

Beverly looked at the sink, what was that?

"Beverly." The voice called out again, it sounded like a young girl.

She sat up, placing the poem on the edge of the tub, then getting up all the way.

"Help me." The voice said, as Beverly walked closer.

"Help me, please." It called out again, as Beverly got even closer.

"We've all been watching you, Beverly." The last part came from another voice.

"We all float down here.." a bunch of kids' voices said as Beverly leaned closer.

"Hello? Who are you?" Beverly asked, looking down the sink drain.

"I'm Veronica - Betty Ripsom - Patrick Hockstetter..." Three different voices answered.

"Come Closer - Wanna see?" The voices asked.

"We float - We Change...." The voices called out, getting more demonic.

Beverly looked at the door then walked into the living room to see her dad passed out. So she snuck past him and grabbed his measuring tape. Then rushed back to the bathroom.

She put the measuring tape down the drain and continued pushing it down. She expected it to stop at a couple of inches, but it kept going. She continued, but it seemed like the drain was endless. She got frantic and pushed more and more down, until it hit something. It was 287 inches deep, and felt stuck.

She brought the measuring tape back up until she saw bloody hair at the end of the tape. She lifted the tape up, disgusted. Suddenly the hair wrapped itself around Beverly's wrist and hand, in shock she dropped the tape. She screamed in fear and tried to get it off but more hair wrapped around her other hand.

The hair separated her arms as more attached around her neck. More hair shot out of the drain and wrapped around Beverly's face, torso. and upper legs. The hair pulled Beverly towards the drain as she kept screaming. Right when she was close to the drain, blood started spewing out of it.

Beverly screamed again, only for the blood to shoot out of the drain, getting everywhere. Her mouth, hair, clothes, and all over the bathroom. The hair let go of the scared girl as she cried crawling away from the sink. After the blood stopped pouring, all the hair was sucked back into the drain.

Beverly let out a cry before her dad walked into the bathroom.

"The hell's going on?" Her dad asked.

Still scared, Beverly stuttered, " T-T-The sink," she paused, " The blood." she finished.

"What blood?" Her dad asked, confused.

"The sink, you...you don't see it, there was blood, and-" Beverly said, as her hand made a going up motion.

Her dad walked up to her and bent down to face her, before he said "You worry me, Bevvy."

"You worry me a lot." He continued.

"Why do you do this to your hair?" He asked the scared girl.

"Makes you look like a boy" He said, disgustedly.

Before getting up and leaving the room. Also leaving Beverly to cry.

~Bill and Ashton~

The two teens were asleep in Bill's bed. The friends were cuddling before drops of water woke the taller one. Bill looked up at the ceiling and saw the hole in his roof. He got up carefully, trying not to wake up Ashton, before going out to the hall and grabbing a bucket. He was walking back to his room when he heard a light turn on.

He turned around to see that Georgie's light was on. Bill put the bucket down and walked slowly to his little brother's bedroom. He looked inside, only to see Georgie's bed, the way he left it when he went missing. Bill went to the doorway and spotted the turtle that Georgie and Ashton made.

He sat down on the bed and picked up the turtle, holding it in his hands. He sat there for a bit missing his little brother as he looked at his room. Then he heard footsteps running down the hall. He looked at the door before getting up and looking in the hall. Bill looked down and saw muddy footprints leading down the stairs.

He followed the footprints to the kitchen, where they just stopped. All of a sudden, a small boy in a yellow raincoat ran across the kitchen while the walkie talkie made a high pitched noise. Bill gasped in shock and dropped the turtle and it broke. Bill walked to where the boy ran to, the cellar.

Bill breathed for a bit before slowly going down the cellar. He got down and saw that water had flooded the floor. He looked to see Georgie hiding behind a bookcase.

"I lost it, Billy, don't be mad." Georgie said.

"I-I-I'm not mad at you." Bill stuttered, still in shock.

Georgie smiled before stepping out from the side of the bookcase.

"It just floated off." Georgie explained.

"But Bill, If you'll come with me, You'll float too!" Georgie exclaimed

Bill's breath hitched, as he got more nervous.

"You'll float too, You'll float too, You'll float too, You'll float too, You'll float too-" Georgie repeated smiling before getting aggressive.

"You'll float too, You'll float too-" As the small boy kept repeating that, a clown's head slowly was submerging up.

The fake Georgie kept screaming as his face started to become deformed and sewer water started coming out of his mouth. Then it was made obvious that the clown was controlling the fake Georgie like a puppet. Bill got more and more scared, so he started backing away.

Then the clown threw down the fake Georgie in the water and smiled at Bill before running towards the terrified boy screaming. Luckily for Bill, he ran up the stairs as fast as he could before slamming the cellar door shut.

Bill rushed up back to his room and slammed the door shut too, which woke up Ashton. Before she could say anything Bill rushed in the bed.

"Billy? What's wrong? What happened?" Ashton asked as the taller boy.

"G-G-Georgie - H-He - C-C-Cellar - C-Clown - I-I couldn't h-h-help!" Bill stuttered out, tears streaming down his face.

"Woah Woah Woah! Georgie? The Cellar? What Clown? Billy, you're not making any sense." Ashton asked, placing her hands on Bill's cheeks, wiping his tears.

Bill calmed down a bit, feeling the cool metal and Ashton’s bracelet, and explained with a cracking voice, "I-I s-saw G-G-G-Georgie in t-t-the cellar, h-he w-was scr-screaming. A Cl-Cl-Cl-Clown ap-appeared and I r-ran. I cou-couldn't help h-h-him. Y-You have to Believe me."

"I do, I believe you Bill." Ashton whispered calmly, also calming Bill.

The two teens laid on the bed, with Bill's arms wrapped around Ashton's waist and her arms wrapped around his neck. By now Bill had stopped crying but still couldn't sleep.

"I know you miss him, I do too Bill." Ashton whispered, breaking the silence.

"He was your little brother, I can only imagine how it feels." Ashton whispered with sadness.

"Y-You know, H-He wanted to marry you." Bill mentioned with a smile, trying to change the mood.

"Really?" Ashton asked, also smiling.

"Y-Yeah, when you w-weren't there, he would go o-on and on about h-how he wanted to ma-marry you." Bill stuttered, smiling even brighter at the memory of Georgie.

"Well, maybe if we were older, I would gladly accept." Ashton said, jokingly.

The two teens snickered and reminisced about their favorite memories of Georgie. Eventually, the pair fell asleep in each other's arms.

~Time Skip to the Next Morning, Beverly's House~

Beverly sat on the fire escape of her home, waiting for her new friends to arrive. Then muffled voices could be heard, but the redhead knew it was the Losers. She quickly got up and rushed down the fire escape.

"She didn't say anything, she just said you guys need to hurry over." Stan told the group.

The losers all pulled up on their bikes just as Beverly made it down.

"You made it, I....I need to show you something." Beverly told the group.

"What is it?" Eddie asked, looking up at the girl.

"More than what we saw at the Quarry?" Richie also asks.

"Shut up! Just Shut up Richie!" Eddie exclaims, obviously annoyed.

"My dad will kill me if he finds out I had boys in the apartment." Beverly mentions.

"Then why doesn't Ashton just go?" Ben suggests.

"No, I need more than one person." Beverly answers.

"Okay, W-We'll leave a look out, Richie, st-ste-stay here." Bill said as him and the others dropped their bikes.

"Woah Woah Woah Woah Woah, What if her dad comes back?!" Richie asked, panicked.

"Do what you always do, Start Talking." Stan responded, before going up the fire escape.

"It is a gift." Richie called out.

"More like a curse." Ashton called back.

In the apartment, Beverly led the group to the door of her bathroom.

"In there." Beverly said.

"What is it?" Stan asked, worried.

"You'll see." Beverly responded.

"Are you taking us to your bathroom? I just want you to know that 89% of the worst accidents at home are caused in bathrooms, an-an-an-and that's where all the ba-ba-bacteria and fungi are, and it's not really a sanitary place-" Eddie rambled, before getting cut off.

"Shut up, Spaghetti," Ashton said, looking at the door.

Before Eddie could say anything, Bill opened the door, revealing a blood soaked bathroom.

"I knew it." Eddie said, just before gagging.

"You see it?" Beverly asked.

"Yes." Eddie slightly hissed.

"What happened here?" Stan asked the redhead.

"My dad couldn't see it, I thought I might be crazy." Beverly mentioned.

"Well if you're crazy, then we're all crazy." Ben said.

"Not all of you." Ashton said.

The group then turned around to look at the girl confused.

"You don't see it?" Beverly asked.

"No, all I see is a regular old bathroom." Ashton told her, walking into the bathroom and looking around.

At that moment both Beverly and Stan realized that Ashton had been wearing one of Bill's shirts and shorts.

"Maybe you can go keep look out with Rich?" Eddie suggested, just as confused as the others.

"Yeah, okay. Yell if you need me." Ashton said, before leaving the apartment.

"We....c-can't leave it like this." Bill said.

The group then grabbed gloves, paper towels, mops and other cleaning supplies. Beverly wiped down the mirror, Bill mopped the floor, Stan cleaned the window in a certain way while standing in the bathtub, Eddie rang out the sponges with his inhaler in his mouth, and Ben cleaned the walls and floor. It took awhile but eventually the bathroom was squeaky clean.

Eddie called up Ashton to help take out some of the trash bags. Ashton and Ben had grabbed trash bags and went to take them out, but Ben stopped as Ashton continued. The chubby boy peaked into Beverly's room and saw that she had received the postcard he slipped into her bag.

He smiled to himself, but when he walked out her room he heard Bill and Beverly laughing with each other. Sadly, he walked out just as Ashton had come up to see if there was any more trash. She didn't find any but when she heard her name she decided to listen to what Bill and Beverly were talking about.

"I was there one time with Ashton and Richie. I hit the target but there were so many prizes, I didn't know which one to p-pick." Bill told Beverly.

"It's not true, you know, what they say about me." Beverly told Bill, hoping he didn't see her as the slut almost everyone else did.

"I was only ever kissed by one guy," Beverly paused. "It was a long time ago, it was a nice kiss though." Beverly mentioned, slightly smiling at Bill.

Bill, flustered, could only let out some breaths.

"January Embers?" Beverly asked, hoping Bill was the one that wrote her the sweet poem.

"Wuh-Wuh-W-W-Was that in the play?" Bill asked, unknowingly.

"No, it's a poem." Beverly answered.

"Oh! I don't really know much about po-po-poetry." Bill answered, honestly.

"Oh, I just....nevermind then." Beverly said, disappointed she hadn't found the author.

"Um, ju-just so you know I-I never believed any of the rumors, none of us, the losers. They like hanging with you." Bill told Beverly, trying to cheer her up.

"Thanks," Beverly said.

"You shouldn't be thanking us too much, hanging out with us makes you a loser too." Bill mentioned, making Beverly laugh.

"I can take that." Beverly said, with a grin.

The two then laughed with each other, while out in the hall Ashton played with her charm bracelet that the losers gave to her years ago, and back pressed against the wall. She took a deep breath and walked into the bathroom, startling Bill and Beverly.

"You guys almost done up here?" Ashton asked.

"Yeah, what happened to your clothes?" Beverly asked, noticing the girl was soaked.

"Oh, Richie decided to be an asshole and spray me with the hose." Ashton responded, shrugging.

"You can borrow one of my dresses." Beverly suggested.

"Um, I don't really do dresses, you get it?" Ashton told the redhead.

"Aw come on, you'll look great and we'll be quick." Beverly said, grabbing Ashton's hands and bringing her to her bedroom.

Outside the apartment all the boys waited for the girls to come out. After a couple minutes, Beverly came down the stairs. Once she was down she yelled for Ashton to come down. Once the smaller girl made it all the way down the Losers got to fully look at her.

She had a blue plastic headband, Beverly's dark blue dress with white dots all over, and her classic beat up black converse. A faint pink blush made its way onto Richie, Eddie, Stanley, and Bill. In all the years they had known Ashton they had never seen her so...so...girly.

"Woah..." Richie and Stan said in unison.

"Is that a good woah or a bad woah?" Ashton asked, mainly to Richie.

"Good Woah, heck a Great woah. I never thought I'd live to see the day Ashton Wenbrooke wore a dress!" Richie exclaimed.

"Alright alright, shut it trashmouth." Ashton said, walking to her bike.

The whole time Bill and Stan had just been staring at her, with their blush more noticeable. The others had gotten to their bikes already, waiting for the pair to move.

"Um, you two just gonna stand there like idiots getting a boner from Ashton?" Richie called out.

"Beep Beep Richie!" The boys called out, their faces now a bright red, rushing to their bikes as the group started walking away.

*•~Emo-Gay-Tea~•*

< Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter >

#it 2017 #it chapter 1 #thank you losers #ashton wenbrooke #bill denbrough #eddie kaspbrak #losers club #you'll float too #oc insert

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brittany-currier · 6 years ago

Text

Monster Hunters Anonymous

“Everything started a few months ago, when I noticed that some of my things were going missing. Food, a toothbrush, and some coffee mugs. Nothing that you would notice if you weren’t paying close enough attention. I was, of course, paying attention when an entire box of Cocoa Puffs disappeared overnight. I knew I couldn’t eat that much on my own, so I set up some cameras to see if I had been sleepwalking, or rather, sleep-eating.

The first few nights went without incident. No missing food, and nothing at all on the cameras. As the third night passed without a hitch, I started to think that maybe I was losing my mind. But as I sat down to watch the eight-hour footage on four times the usual speed (two hours a day to watch me sleep, maybe I was going insane), I immediately saw something was off. The basement door was cracked open a bit. I know that I didn’t open it, as I haven't been down there in weeks, aside for the weekly laundry day. Slowing the footage down to watch in normal time, I was able to make out what looked like a spindly white hand wrapped around the doorknob. As these cameras were in black and white and really grainy, that’s all I could see. Then the door closed again. I did what any sane person would do at that moment, I called the police. They got there about half an hour later, looked around the house, said there was no one there, and left. That put my mind at ease enough to be able to function throughout the rest of the day, and eventually enough to fall asleep that night, however fitfully. I went to check the cameras, only to find that the one facing my basement door was busted. Torn to shreds, actually, as if an animal had gotten to it whilst in a fit of rage. So I got out and went to a hotel. I had about four hundred dollars to spend before I went broke, and that would cover three nights at most. Anyways this person had invaded my space, my life, my home. I was going to be ready to face them.

First of all, it would’ve been a good idea to grab the revolver out of the back of my closet. Secondly, how did this person hide from the police? My basement is mostly bare, save for the few boxes of christmas decorations, and those would be too small for any normal person to fit into. Lastly, I should tell somebody, so that on the off chance that they kill me, somebody know my whereabouts and what’s going on. So I called my buddy Jon. I told him what was going on, and that if he didn’t get a call from me by six the next afternoon, to send for the police. I was going to be heading to the basement to confront this person at four. Based on the fact that he or she only came out at night (as far as I knew), I figured they should be sleeping at that time, making everything easier. The goal was to find the person, and either reason with them to get them to leave, or to use my gun and fire a few warning shots to scare them away. Then probably move,

because after this, I don’t know how I’d feel safe there ever again. If only that’s what actually happened.

At four the next day, I returned to my home, went straight to my closet, and went to grab my gun. It was gone, and the safe was open, warped and bent as it someone had used brute force to open it. Well screw that. I grabbed a kitchen knife, and, in my rage, slammed open the cellar door. There was a terrible smell, the stench of death and decomposition. For a brief moment, I heard skittering, the most likely culprits being rats drawn to the stench that now invaded my nostrils with startling intensity.

My basement was divided into two parts by the stairs. There was the left side, which had two rooms, divided by an open doorway, which led to a door to the right side. On the right side, it nearly mirrored the left, but it was only one room. The boxes of decorations were in the back corner of the right side, and the left only housed an old washer-dryer combo that hadn’t been used in many years. I went to the left first, figuring that if this person were to be there, I would see them immediately, lest they were behind the washer and dryer. After very thoroughly searching the entire left side, I headed back for the stairs. As long as I kept my back to them, no one could attack me from behind, as the door leading to the other side made a very loud squealing noise when opened. Checking the first half of the room was simple, nowhere for anybody to hide. After walking over to the christmas boxes, I kicked each one, my only find being a fairly large house spider that I then promptly squished under the heel of my boot. There’s no way that this person could still be there and be in this basement. Looking up out of frustration, I groaned, disappointed but also slightly relieved. As I turned around to leave the cellar, I felt the sharp stinging of nails cutting all the way down my back, and onto the back of my legs. Looking back at it now, I should’ve checked the basement rafters, as there’s a tiny crawl space there, just big enough for that - that thing to hide out in. I looked back, noting the pale, off-white eggshell color that had to be that thing’s skin. It was hairless, and moved quickly, but slow enough that I could make out claws, no, talons, a round five inches in length, at least. My fight or flight instincts kicked in, and I tried to run. Emphasis on tried, because as I started to run, I once again felt those sharp, cutting talons, but this time around my ankle, and before I knew it, my face made contact with the cold, unforgiving, cement floor. I was disoriented, dizzy, trying to discern reality from the nightmare that I seemed to be experiencing. A sudden moment of clarity came to me as I reached for my gun, which was about a foot away. My hand clasped the cool metal with conviction, and I aimed it at the creature who was now staring at me from about six feet away, and pulled the trigger. The gun clicked. It looked at me, and opened it’s mouth to reveal it’s sharp, serrated teeth, almost as if smiling. Opening it’s hand, six bullets fell out. While I was disoriented, the damned thing emptied my gun! Stepping closer, it seemed to almost enjoy m y fear. It suddenly sped up, it’s head hovering above my own, sizing me up. I brought the gun to it’s face, hitting it on

it’s temple, the creature screeching in pain. I grabbed one of the bullets as I rose to my feet, loading the gun with almost impossible speed. It tried to come at me, and I knew I couldn’t miss. If I did, I’d be dead. So I shot it between it’s milky purple eyes. It dropped, dead, and I checked my watch. Five fifteen. I called Jon back, and told him the thing was dead. He asked what I was going to do about the body, and I explained that I planned to burn down the house and go off-grid. Packing all my valuables into a bag, I took one last walk around my house, making sure to stop in every room. Dropping that lighter into the gasoline-covered tiled kitchen floor was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but it was necessary. I stayed at a hotel for a while, before renting an apartment across the country under a different identity. I did do deep research to find out what that thing was, but all I found was the site for this group. I knew there would be people like me here. People with stories to share.” I finished talking to the small crowd of people seated in a circle in the basement of the old church. “That’s good,” said Ryan, the leader of Monster Hunters Anonymous, “that’s all the time we have for this meeting, we’ll hear from somebody else next time.”

#horror #horror story #monster #paranormal #horror writing #original story #brittany currier

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pixieungerstories · 5 years ago

Text

Quarantine - 2

Well, they laughed. I sort of more chuckled nervously.

I kept an eye on my laptop battery and there weren’t any unexplained power outages. Everything seemed normal.

Until I was cleaning out the basement and found the wine room. I don’t know wine, but there was a lot of it and the newest bottle that I could find was pre world war two.

I wasn’t expecting it to still be good. It was. It felt ridiculous drinking a hundred year old bottle of red wine with a frozen dinner. I did it anyway.

“Are you still here?” I demanded as I was getting ready for bed.

There was no answer.

I found the box that had my vibrator in it and fell asleep in a sweaty puddle.

I woke up a little hung over and found my vibe squeaky clean on the bathroom sink when I went to brush my teeth. My stomach dropped.

“Were you watching me?” I hissed. I don’t know what sort of reply I was expecting, but I didn’t get one.

I screamed and stood up when he said from the doorway, “I get lonely too.”

“Jesus Christ!”

I didn’t move. He had just sounded sad when he said it.

“Why can’t I ever see you?” I asked.

“I live in the shadows, you can only see me in darkness.”

I blinked at that. “But you are always here.”

“Yes.”

“And I can’t see in the dark,” I pointed out.

“I know.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I changed the subject. “What do you want from me?”

“But I am,” I mumbled.

“Yes. So take care of yourself. Sleep in the bed. Care for the house. I will stay out of your way.”

I licked my lips. I didn’t want to ask but I had to know. “What were you doing with my vibrator?”

It was the barest whisper, “I wanted to taste you.”

I froze feeling like a deer in the headlights, completely unsure how to respond to that.

“I have not touched you since you asked me not to,” he argued.

“I don’t understand,” he replied.

I shifted awkwardly. “Can I call you Nick?”

The silence continued. Then, “Why?”

“Nameless things are more scary. It isn’t as bad having a roommate named Nick.”

----

He had used pencil.

“Is this a peace offering?” I asked.

I didn’t get a response, but he did the dishes while I had my bath that morning.

When my groceries were delivered, popcorn had been added to my order.

It came as a surprise when I went to put the popcorn in the microwave and the power went out.

“Nick? What are you doing?”

“This isn’t me,” he hissed.

I have no idea how long I was in there, in the dark with my heart pounding as I tried to get the door to open. Eventually, it did.

“All better now,” he assured me, breathing down the back of my neck.

There were a lot of cop cars outside on the street.

“What happened?” I asked. There wasn’t any answer.

A uniformed officer rang my bell, then politely stepped back from my door the requisite six feet.

“Did you hear or see anything unusual last night, Ma’am?” he asked after identifying himself.

He frowned at me. “Have you noticed anything missing? Any signs of a break in?”

“No? Should I have?”

He appeared to consider this, then stepped further back to look at the state of my house. “There were break ins all down this street last night. This place might not have been a target.”

“Is everyone OK?” I asked.

“It’s an ongoing investigation,” replied walking towards me again. “I can not disclose anything further, ma’am.”

I swallowed, “That sounds like a no.”

“Do you mind if I come in and have a look around?”

I considered this, “Do you generally advise that women living alone let strange men into their houses? If you are coming to search, I want my lawyer here as a witness.”

He was already peering in around me. The house isn’t that big and the walls were all gone. He could see the whole main floor whether he came in or not.

“Doing some renovations I see.”

No shit Sherlock. “My building permit is posted in my window. I haven’t been able to get trades people out in months but-”

I mean, he was right, still you never like to hear that. And it didn’t need to be condemned. I had the structural engineer’s report to prove it.

I went to work while keeping an eye on the news sites.

It has escalated all the way down the street.

Then stopped before my house.

“Nick? What did you do?”

He wasn’t talking to me yet.

----

I sat on my bed and waited for the sun to go down. My laptop was in the kitchen. My phone was next to me but set to do not disturb. I waited, straining my ears for any noise.

“Are you there?”

Nothing was said but I was sure I could feel him watching me.

“Please tell me what happened.”

“No one comes into my house,” he snarled.

I swallowed and fought down my fear. “I did.”

“You are different. You are helping.”

I considered that. He had walls before I got here, now he didn’t.

“Am I safe from you?”

“Yes.” It would have been more comforting if he hadn’t growled it.

“Please don’t,” he whispered.

I sniffled. “Fuck. Why don’t I have kleenex?”

“What if they come back tonight?”

“They won’t,” he said firmly. I don’t think he was talking about the ongoing police presence on the street.

“What did you do?” I sniffled.

“I defended my home. That includes you now.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that. I wasn’t sure that I couldn’t catch glimpses of him as the lights on the street kept flashing. Red, blue, huge black shadow.

“I don’t want to be alone right now,” I whispered.

The bed dipped but when I reached my arm out in that direction all I could find was a long fingered hand to hold mine. “You won’t be.”

“Are you .. human shaped?”

“I can be.”

I snorted, “What kind of answer is that?”

“An honest one.”

I rolled on to my side so that my back was to him, or at least to where I thought he was.

“I can go.”

“Can you stay?”

The weight on the bed changed. “Don’t try to look at me, you will only give yourself nightmares.”

“You said you’ve read Blue Beard?”

“Yes.”

“Have you read Cupid and Psyche?”

He just snickered.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Does any of that apply here?”

“Are you going to try to burn me with an oil lamp?” he teased.

“Are you going to get me pregnant then cast me out into the wilds?” I countered.

He hissed at that, “Never.”

“Never get me pregnant or -”

“I’m not human. We can’t procreate. I can’t make you sick. You can’t make me sick. We can drive each other insane and you will be able to escape someday. I can not leave.”

“Why not?”

“You need to rest. Don’t ask questions with scary answers.”

“How am I supposed to know they are scary?”

“Because you are asking a monster. Now, go to sleep.”

That was the most ridiculous thing but I wasn’t up to arguing about it. Not while there was still an active crime scene next door.

I fell asleep to the feeling of him stroking my back.

----

As I was pouring wine into a coffee mug, he asked me, “Are you drinking alone?”

I got up, took another mug out of the cupboard, poured a second drink and turned off the kitchen light. “Nope. I’m not alone. You’re here.”

“I didn’t have that much to drink!” I protested.

“No, but you can’t see in the dark.” He tucked me safely into bed.

“Did you change the sheets?” I asked. He didn’t answer. “You did, didn’t you?”

My laptop opened and his body blocked the screen for a few moments. Then Brooklyn 99 came on and it was set next to me.

“Why are you doing this?”

“We need a distraction. Call Penny.”

“We need a distraction? We?”

“Yes.”

I hesitated. “Do you need me to move out and camp in the backyard for a few days?”

His reply was a nonverbal roar that rattled the windows and set off a car alarm outside.

The cops on my porch blinked.

“I’m trying to sleep! Can you keep the noise down? Please? I know whatever you are doing is important but can you just do it a little quieter?”

“That wasn’t us!” the youngest protested.

“Then can you find out who it was and make them stop?”

To my delight, they left.

I closed the door, smiled to myself and bounced off a wall of darkness that caught me before I rebounded against the door.

“I do not want you sleeping outside!” he growled in my ear.

“Nick? Can you help me not trip on things on my way to the stairs?”

I climbed into bed and closed it.

Then I opened it, stared at the browser for a moment, then closed it again.

“What’s wrong?”

I considered this. I really had no secrets from him anymore. “I need … some ‘alone time’ but it’s weird if you are watching.”

“Would it be better if I was helping?” he teased.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t know what you are working with. But I feel lonely.”

Gentle fingers took my hand and raised it. The lips that kissed and the tongue that laved were not human. I turned my hand to stroke his face but he leaned away.

That stung. I let my hand fall to the bed. “It isn’t fair that you get to touch me but I can’t touch you.”

He didn’t say anything to that. A car drove past and the headlights lit the room for an instant. Long enough for me to see four glittering eyes watching me, two forward facing and two further to the sides. Not human, I reminded myself. In the darkness, hand cupped my face, thick lips caught mine and as I kissed him a tentacle like tongue licked at my lips before darting briefly down my throat.

“I can do better than that toy,” he promised, “but you can not see me.”

I panicked and pulled my hands away and just like that he was gone.

“Nick?”

I don’t know why I was expecting an answer. I groaned and pressed both palms to my face covering my eyes. I jumped when he caressed my calf, but I didn’t move my hands.

“What are you doing, little girl?”

“Someone,” he whispered.

“Yeah. Someone to make me feel like I’m real. Just to make me feel.”

“Humans need other humans to be human,” he muttered. “You should have just called your friend.”

My eyes prickled again and tears splashed against my hands. “How long have you been here?”

“There was an accident shortly after the house was built. I was created out of that.”

That raised a lot of questions, but my immediate one was, “How long have you been here alone?”

I snorted, “Were you really trying to make me go? Because living here was creepy but not anywhere close to the scariest place I’ve ever lived.”

“The house is more than a hundred years old. That’s a long time to be alone,” I pointed out.

“Enough time to get good at it,” he countered.

I moved my hands then and sat up to look at him. I thought I could see a pool of shifting darkness. “What are you? Are you a ghost? Did someone die here and -”

“Many people have died here. I am not one of them.”

I thought about that for a moment. “Am I?”

“What?”

“Am I some dead woman who is all alone here making excuses for why I can’t leave?”

He laughed at me then, not a jolly laugh, an odd howling laugh. “How did you come up with that ridiculous idea?”

It stung a little, “It’s a popular plot point in a number of movies. And I can’t help but notice you didn’t answer the question.”

He stopped laughing when he realized I was serious and said flatly, “You aren’t dead.”

#oh my god they were quarantined #exophilia #monster quarantine #nyctophobia #shadow monster

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