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chocolateheart · 4 years ago

Text

Door number 12

Title: Door Number 12

Word count: 7937 (I know, I'm sorry)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: A noisy neighbour is bringing you a lot of emotions. What if this bubbling tension and frustration will finally find their way out?

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex (please, wrap it before you tap it), creampie, fingering, handjob, pinning to the wall, clothes tearing, biting, scratching, a lot of kissing, strong eye contact, sex noises, tension, some swearing, noisy neighbour, arguing, stealing food, property damage, I don't know, porn?

Bingo Square Filled: Neighbour AU for @spnmixedbingo

A/N: Yes, another porn. Please, don't judge me, I couldn't help it. I won't say much, that fic just sorta happened. I hope you'll like it! Enjoy babes!

A/N: As always huge huge huge THANK YOU to my dear beta, angel and Queen @winchest09 for giving this piece a look. Love you Tabbs <3 Still, mistakes are mine!

A/N: The gorgeous divider designed by incredibly talented @talesmaniac89 <3

Throwing your bag on the counter along with your keys, a deep sigh left your chest. You numbly looked around your apartment as you began to take off your jewellery. Why did this place always look like a pigsty every time you got back home? Your necklace and bracelet joined your bag when you tossed them to one side as a yawn escaped you.

This day was exhausting, to say the least. Maybe your work wasn’t that demanding but sometimes it was just tiring to the point where you wanted to cry. After shrugging your jean jacket off, your feet took you to the couch and you just collapsed down on it with a pained grunt. Your body was stiff and aching, your head was pounding from pain and as soon as you felt a pillow under it, your will to stay awake had started to fade. You knew you shouldn’t take a nap now as there was still so much left to do today, but for god's sake, it was Friday evening and you had been working for the past 5 days at top speed. An hour of rest was something you definitely deserved.

Without standing up, you lifted your hips to take off your jeans and wrapped yourself in the blanket you always kept on the couch. Relaxing your body with a deep breath, you closed your eyes, already halfway to dreamland. But as soon as you felt yourself drifting completely, a loud sound of guitar suddenly sounded in your ears, making your eyes snap open.

No, not again!

Fisting the pillow, you felt the anger growing as you knew exactly where the loud rock music was coming from; recognising the band as AC/DC. When the volume increased, you hid your head underneath the pillow, desperate to cut off your aching skull from the noise. But it didn’t work, the sound still bleeding through the cushion. It didn’t take you a minute to shoot up on straight legs and pull on your sweats while marching towards the front door.

Mumbling inappropriate words, you entered the staircase for your building and immediately went down; hearing the power of the music increasing with every step you took. You found yourself on a floor below, with your jaw and hands clenched, eyes glued to door number 12 as you approached it. Once you stood in front of it, you lifted one of your fists and hit the hard on the wood a few times, ready to murder the person on the other side. Of course he made you wait till the song ended, causing you to repeat the punching a couple of times.

When the door finally opened, you were fuming with anger, eyes shooting lightnings towards the tall man on the opposite side of the doorstep.

"I swear to god, Winchester," you hissed through gritted teeth, a loud melody almost muffling your words. "If you won't turn that down, I will physically harm you." Your threatening pulled a laugh from him which only acted as another oil drop to the fire.

"Sweetheart you can't do anything to me," he said, leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed on this broad chest. "Besides, I don't understand what your problem is." Dean shrugged as if nothing had happened, making your brows shoot up.

"You don't understand?! This music is driving me crazy!" You took a deep breath and while not breaking the strong eye contact you had with him, you started to enlighten him on what exactly was wrong. "I’ve had a terrible day, no, week actually. Everything hurts, my head is pounding and this music is shaking my walls which in turn, is not letting me sleep. So if you could be so nice and turn that off because I swear on what's holy, if I lose my goddamn mind, your name will be the first one I'm gonna mention once they ask me how I ended up in mental hospital." Words just slipped out of you in one unbreakable line and you took shuddering breath after, composing yourself.

However, the smug smirk didn’t leave your neighbour's face; he didn’t give a damn about your monologue. After you finished, he only put a hand on your shoulder and delivered his response.

"It's a Friday evening and we live in a free country. There’s no rule saying I can't listen to loud music, unless it's lights out. What's more, you're the only one who can't stand this, I don't see anyone else coming here to complain, so maybe the problem lies in you, not in me," he simply said, as he flashed you a fake, sarcastic smile and closed the door. But not before saying, "have a nice evening."

You looked up to the ceiling, asking for patience but the frustration and anger were huge. You growled, kicked Winchester's door with your socked foot and cursed, feeling pain going from your toes to the tibial bone.

On your way back to your apartment, you were mumbling out every possible, offensive name that came to your mind when you thought about that green eyed man. Your relationship had been heated ever since he moved into the building. He made your blood boil. Loud music, meetings with his friends, watching movies on full volume on his surround speakers after dark in the middle of the week, noisily cooking at midnight; even his one night stands apparently had an unfulfilled opera career.

You were having a battle with Dean, on average, twice a week. Knowing you weren’t the only one who couldn’t stand his behavior, you asked others for help, but Dean’s charm was way bigger of an opponent than you had expected. He could just use a sweet smile, say a few, flirty words with this deep voice and Ann from the end of the hall would walk on wobbly legs with stupid smile on her face for the next four days.

You couldn’t really blame her, the man was ridiculously attractive but you were looking past it. Dean was an annoying asshole and the only reason you had not yet clawed out his eyes was the fact that visiting the jail wasn’t exactly a wooing thought.

Shutting your door behind you, you leaned against it and ‘Sweet Child O’ mine’ came on. You growled once again, hit your wooden barricade with your head and looked down, trying to find calmness in your floor. Once you stopped radiating fury, knowing that the person below won't let you rest for at least two more hours, you chose the second drawer in your kitchen, searching for painkillers. If you were being made to stay up, you were gonna be productive. Swallowing two aspirin, you decided to clean the place so you could focus on college work tomorrow.

If only you could actually focus on college work.

After waking up at 8 am the next day, you opened the window on your way to the kitchen, craving coffee. It wasn’t normal for you to get up at this hour on the weekend but your finals were coming and you had way more work than you expected.

Thankfully, the weather outside was pleasant; the sun was already shining, creating morning shadows and the soft wind streamed inside your apartment, tickling your ankles as you sat at the table, eating breakfast. The smell of spring made you smile, always bringing back good memories. After the meal, you didn’t bother to change your pajamas for the actual clothes and you just took the laptop to start working on your college sheets. You were sitting with one of your legs bent, heel leaning on the chair, messy bun on your head, sipping on the second coffee while listening to the birds singing happily outside. Words were flooding out of you, making you feel certain that it wouldn’t take you long to be done with your essays. But that blissful moment was cut short when a loud rumble of a car’s engine resonated under your building, causing you to jerk in your chair and almost spill your drink.

Recognizing it straight away, you looked up, trying your best to not get angry again but as the sound of his loud engine revving l continued, you smacked the table with your palm and stood up. As you leaned on your window sill and gazed out, you spotted black, slick Chevrolet with the driver's door, trunk and hood open. Tools were scattered around the vehicle, a jean clothed leg was sticking out from the inside and you greeted your teeth, knowing who that was.

“Hey!” you yelled out, not caring if probably half of the residents could hear you. “I’m trying to study here!”

Dean peeked out and up at you, smiled and got out of the car, leaning his elbow on the hood in a nonchalant way.

“Good morning to you too,” he said and flashed you the oh-so-charming smile.

“It would be good if you didn’t interrupt it with your loud junker,” you spat back, leaning on the window frame and smiled when his face fell; he hated it when someone insulted his Baby, and you were very much aware of that. “Now, could you please lower your generic volume because I have a lot to do and you’re the last thing I want to deal with today.”

“Nobody tells you to. I’m minding my business, you go mind yours, I ain’t stopping you.” He gestured towards you with his grease covered hand.

“No, but your car is making noise that shakes all the dishes in my cabinet.”

He just shrugged and you narrowed your eyes, seeing that he didn’t care about whatever your problem was. “Then I suggest closing the window.”

After saying that, he dived inside the vehicle and seconds later you heard the strong twang of a guitar. Again. This man was very successful in making you hate rock music. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, stopping yourself from throwing a flowerpot at him; only because it was a very nice pot and you were emotionally attached to it.

“I need fresh air! I’m not gonna close the window! Turn that off!” you screamed, but he only frowned and pointed to his ear.

“Sorry sweetheart, can’t hear you!” You could see the smile dancing on his lips and you really wanted to break something on his head. “The music is too loud!”

Clenching your jaw you gave up. Another defeat, but it wasn’t the war you lost; it was just a battle and he was yet to feel your comeback. Showing him your middle finger, you closed the window and went to the bathroom, not being able to hear the soft chuckle that left him.

Maybe to an outsider, Dean’s behavior wasn’t such a big deal, but the longer he acted like that, the more annoying and tiring it was becoming. You couldn’t focus on basic activities because he was giving you a headache in various ways and for some reason, you couldn’t just talk it through with him. Every attempt at trying to get to an understanding with him, ended up with a fight.

Winchester was just a pain in the ass.

Thankfully, he vanished before noon; his car was gone and there was a blissful silence that you made the most of, and finished the majority of what you had to do.

Surrounded by papers and books, you were sitting down on your fluffy carpet, leaning back on your couch, typing away on your laptop. Glancing at your clock again, you frowned. It’s been almost 85 minutes since you ordered pizza; your stomach was rumbling, unhappy with the fact of still being empty. Finding your phone, you dialed the pizza parlor’s number once again. Standing up, you stretched your muscles and looked outside, watching the sunset sky as you waited for someone to pick up. Finally, the lady’s voice spoke to you down the line, asking you how she could help.

“Hi, I made an order from you and I still haven’t received it? It’s been over an hour,” you explained politely, scratching the back of your head.

You didn’t like situations like that; delay was understandable, but it had been way too long. However, you hated to call someone out, you never wanted to make someone’s job harder than it already was. Giving your address to the lady so she could check where your food was, you spotted the black vehicle under the building and your brows shot up. He was home and it was still quiet; it wasn’t normal.

“Miss, the system says your order was delivered and we have a confirmation of receipt.” You frowned hearing her words as what she said was impossible.

“Are you sure? There was no delivery here.”

“Yes, I’m positive. It says someone picked up the order twenty minutes ago.” Pinching your nose, you took a deep breath.

“Could you check the address precisely, please? Maybe your driver made a mistake?” you suggested being already sure someone else got your food.

“Rosenhouse Street, building 4, apartment 12,” she read and the last number made you flinch.

“Apartment 20,” you corrected her, but she denied.

“No Miss, the order was picked up by apartment 12.” And just like that the level of your anger reached three digits in a second.

“Okay, thank you so much,” you murmured and disconnected the call without a goodbye, already storming halfway across your place, getting ready to leave.

Slamming the door, you took a very well known path downstairs and you banged on number 12 as soon as you stood in front of it. Feeling the urge to punch the person who was supposed to open, you inhaled deeply, clenching your teeth. Just... keep it cool, Y/N.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” you growled the second Dean came into your view in his domestic clothes, wearing sweatpants and a hoodie.

“Whoa, what?” he tilted his head with an uncomprehending look.

“Listen,” you pointed a finger at him. “Loud noises, annoying car, your mean behavior, fine, okay. Screw it. But stealing food? That is childish. Can you go any lower?!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, sweetheart,” he said with a smile dancing on his lips. “What food?”

“My pizza,” you muttered through your teeth.

“Oh, right!” He smacked his forehead, acting like he just now understood. “Yeah, pizza was great.”

“You stole it!” you exclaimed, a little too high pitched.

“No I didn’t,” Dean stated, giving you a small, I-know-better smile.

“Yes, you did. I ordered it and you just pocketed it!” You really wanted to stamp your foot like a little girl to tick your fury.

"No sweetheart, I didn’t," he said, crossing his arms and straightening his back so he could tower over you, making you look up. "The guy came in with pizza, said he's supposed to bring it here, so I paid for it and ate it."

"Oh! Because it's normal to pay for the food you didn’t order and keep it to yourself. And stop calling me sweetheart!" You puffed out irritated, making him smirk.

"You're cute when you're angry." Your face fell and you felt your palm itching. What would he do if you slapped him?

"Dean," you warned him but he chuckled.

"No, seriously." He reached to your forehead, wanting to brush it with his finger. "You have this cute, little wrinkle in the middle-"

"Don't touch me." You smacked his hand away and pointed a warning finger straight into his face. "One more action like this and you're gonna regret it," you growled out and walked away.

"So it's threatening now, huh?!" he called after you, coming out to stand in the hall.

Before you stepped on the stairs, you turned around with such a force, that your hair flipped over one of your shoulders and you showed him your middle finger. Hearing his low laugh bouncing on the wall, you scoffed annoyed as you stomped loudly going back upstairs. You swore that if you were supposed to become a murderer one day, that this man was gonna be victim number one. This whole 'lets annoy her' process would be great fuel for you to slice that slender throat of his.

Shutting the door again, you walked into the kitchen, dived in the fridge and decided to stuff yourself with pancakes. Screw Dean and his pizza, you were not going to give him satisfaction with ordering anything else tonight.

“So, he’s a confident man,” Jo stated after you told her about Winchester’s behavior.

You came to Harvelle's to grab something for Sunday dinner; they had the most delicious menu in the whole town and no one could change your mind. You were sitting with a blonde girl at the table, outside their restaurant, sipping on some light drinks Ellen had prepared for the two of you. Ash was already working on your meal in the kitchen while Jo was taking her break so she could sit with you and listen about your neighbour under the floor. It took you way longer to describe everything and you felt kind of bad for that. You weren’t the type who whined about such things and forced friends to hear about your bullshit, but now you were desperate to get it all off your chest.

“Confident asshole,” you corrected her, “I just wish he could finally get his ass kicked, you know? I can’t live with this man! He’s an arrogant, offensive, little, annoying dickhead!” you said, crossing your arms on your chest.

After a few seconds of silence, you looked up at Jo. She was watching you, clearly trying not to smile; her lips were twitching and small dimples had already appeared. You knew her long enough to know that she was all ready to tease you about this whole situation.

“What?” you barked at her and she lifted her hands in defense.

“Nothing!” She shrugged. “Just, your relationship with him seems to have been… rough since the very beginning.”

“It is! I really wanna punch him!” Jo lifted her brows, a smile breaking on her face.

“Just punch him?” The suggestion was shining in her eyes and your shoulders fell down at the subtext.

“Jo!” she started giggling when she heard your resigned tone. “Just because I’m having a heated exchange with a hot guy doesn’t mean that I wanna fuck him!”

“Oh, so you think he’s hot?” she asked innocently, taking a sip from her glass.

“Yes, but he’s an idiot and I would never let him in my panties, come on,” you scoffed as you rolled your eyes. The last thing you would ever do was having sex with this man.

“Sure.”

And you knew Jo didn’t believe you. To be honest, if you thought about it really, really hard, you weren’t sure if you believed yourself…

The door opened and Ash came out with a smile, your food packed in a thermal box.

“There you go, girl. We do not accept any complaints,” he said, winking at you and you chuckled, taking the meal from him.

“Thanks, Ash.” He saluted you and vanished as quickly as he appeared. You glanced at your phone laying on the table and sighed seeing the time. “Okay babe, I’m gonna go. School’s calling and I bothered you enough anyway.”

“Oh stop it, you’re not bothering me, don’t be stupid,” she said smiling, and hugged you tight. “Text me when you get home.”

“Sure thing.” You winked and walked backwards, watching her disappear inside the RoadHouse.

Smiling to yourself, you turned around and crossed the street. At first your thoughts were filled with Jo who could always put you in a good mood but then they gradually transitioned into someone else.

You didn’t know if it was your overworked system or what Jo had teased you about that caused Dean to stick inside your mind, but you wanted to scream; it was like he had nested in there. Not only was he disturbing your living space, but he was now invading your mental space as well. What’s more, it wasn’t exactly hard to not think about him in a nasty way, and you hated it. The truth was that he was attractive from his fluffy hair to his toes, and more than once you had caught yourself daydreaming about his hands and mouth on you.

You couldn’t help it. The way he looked was not fair and Jo made you realise that if not for his attitude, you would have slept with him a long time ago. Thankfully, in the moments you felt weakness for him, he was doing something that pissed you off to the point where you wanted to bite his head off.

You really wanted to get even with him, you had to bounce the ball. The need to bite back was so big that you stopped dead in your tracks when you saw the paint store. The bulb in your head flickered on and a devil smile angled your lips. Maybe it was a bad idea, maybe it was childish, maybe it was crossing the line, but you had suffered enough thanks to this jerk.

Buying one can of pink chalk paint, you were muting your common sense that was currently shouting at you. As the saying goes - you only live once. He wanted a fight? You were going to fight. He started to play a strong hand? You were going to do the same. He thought playing with you like that was fun? Well, you were gonna have some fun too. Besides, he wouldn’t realise immediately that the paint would easily wash off, but seeing him panic thinking that his car had been defaced was revenge enough.

With a few last strokes of a paintbrush, you were finished. Straightening your back, you looked down at your work and smiled, satisfied with pink flowers you had drawn on the black surface. They were a nice contrast and you really liked the shape. In all honesty, it kinda burned you to paint this four wheeled beauty, but it wasn’t your fault her owner was a douchebag who deserved a lesson.

The impala was parked in her usual spot, next to the building that was mostly asleep. There were no cameras and due to the late hour, the chance of someone spotting you was small. Besides, you were just a hooded figure, no one would recognise you anyway even with the dim light from a lonely lantern. It was risky, but you were too far gone in your revenge to care. It had been done and you wished you could see Dean’s face in the morning.

Gathering your things you looked around, checking to see if there was anyone you should avoid and you got back to your apartment. After closing the door, you took off your clothes, staying only in leggings and a t-shirt, and decided to make some tea. You had this weird energy bubbling inside of you and it would be a waste to not use it on college papers. Getting comfortable on your couch you started going through materials for one of your projects.

Not expecting any visitors, you jumped slightly while hearing a rapid knocking on your door an hour later. You frowned and stood up, finishing your tea on your way to the entry. What you saw on the other side almost made you smile like an idiot. Dean was boring into you with his eyes; if looks could kill, you would surely be a beautiful corpse by now. His chest was rising and falling heavily, jaw clenched to the point his cheek was twitching and you could see the slight blush coloring on his face. He was wearing his leather jacket but was also in sweats so you assumed he was about to make a quick grocery run or something.

“What the hell?!” he growled at you before you could say a word. Ohhh, he was angry.

“What?” You shrugged innocently, ignoring the weird chill that ran down your spine after hearing the vibrations of his tone.

Dean took a deep breath, doing his best to not shout out. “I wanted to go get some beer and burgers, but guess what. Someone screwed up my car. And you know what? I think it was you.”

He pointed a finger at you, holding keys in his hand. You laughed and leaned on your doorframe, ready to confront him. Satisfaction already tickled your insides, but there was one thing that you had to admit - he was hot when he was angry.

“You really think that I have nothing better to do than mess up your car?” you asked, amused by his flaring nostrils.

"Don't you fucking dare play with me like that," he said firmly, not wanting to yell. "Do you know it's property damage? You broke a law and I can easily get you in trouble."

He was fuming with anger and you were sure that if it was possible, there would be smoke coming out of his ears. You smiled and stood your ground, finding it adorable how he thought he had anything useful against you.

"You have nothing on me. No proof that I was the one who defaced your car," you started, taking two steps to stand inches away from him. "Call the cops and I'm gonna tell them all about the nuisance, the stealing, manipulation and manifestations of aggression all coming from you.”

You stared straight into his eyes, a smart smile not leaving you even for a second; feeling confident in your words. Maybe he had a point, but you weren’t empty handed. You could get punished for what you did and so could he.

“What is your problem, Y/N?!” he asked, pinching his nose, clearly irritated with you. “You keep whining, making problems out of nothing and now painting my damn car?”

“You’re not letting me live in peace!” you raised your voice. “Your loud music, loud car, loud tv, loud you in general! I can’t sleep, I can’t study, I can’t do anything because you’re always there to disturb me!”

“Then leave!” he suggested, raising his tone as well. You were taken aback; lifting your brows you blinked a few times. Was he joking?

“Leave?! Are you kidding me now?! This is my home and just a friendly reminder, I was in here first so maybe you should back off!”

“But you’re the only one having a problem with me!” he yelled, spreading his arms, highlighting the obviousness of his argument.

“Because you’re a manipulative ass! You use your charm, this fucking smile, your shining eyes, and nice language, and the whole building is yours! Even Ian from the 4th floor and he doesn't even like people!”

“Ian is a cool guy!”

“Good!”

You took a breath and opened your mouth to say something more but no words came out. Again, you were convinced that there was no way to come to an agreement with this guy. Further arguments were pointless. Looking at him you shook your head and brushed your hair to the back. The soft smile and look you gave him next, made him frown a little.

“You know what? Fuck you,” you said simply and went to close the door, but his retort didn’t let you.

“You wish.”

Freezing, you locked your eyes with his and in a split second, something shifted in the air. The atmosphere got thick and the tension you had been building for months, now came into play, kinda taking you both by surprise. Dean felt it too, you could see his expression changing. He was trying to read you, trying to understand what was buzzing between you. A part of you wanted to explain it, to show him that you already knew it was sexual tension saying ‘hi’, but as soon as you realised that, you swallowed and forced your rational mask back on.

Shaking off the urge to take steps towards him, you scoffed and sending him one last look, you shut the door without saying anything. Taking two deep breaths, you leaned your forehead on the wooden barricade and closed your eyes.

There was no way in hell you would give in and break. He had everyone else in his fist, but not you. The only person that didn’t fall under his spell, the only one that didn’t let your craving inside take better of you. Dean was still your enemy and a pain in the ass; it was a matter of honour and dignity to stay away.

However, soft knocking made your eyes snap open. No. Darting your head from the door you looked at it, knowing who was behind it but that didn’t even register when you pulled on the door-handle. Dean was supporting his body on his arms that he had placed on both sides of your door, blocking the way. He was looking at you intensely, his breathing quicker than moments ago.

You could see the exact second he made a decision. You knew he was going to do something he shouldn’t and yet, you let him close the gap between you and crush his mouth to yours, cupping your cheeks at the same time. The force he hit you with made you take steps backwards, encouraging him to come in and turn you around so you could unconsciously close the door. His grip was firm, long fingers digging in your neck as hot lips forced yours apart. But your stubbornness caused you to push him away, breaking the connection.

The look you exchanged was a mix of emotions; hate, passion, frustration, lust, confusion, hesitation. This was something completely new for you; needing him was unfamiliar, strange, but at the same time stronger than anything you had felt before when it came to Dean. There was this quiet voice telling you that it was already too late; you tasted it and you wanted it, obviously. The other voice was louder, trying to make you aware of how messed up it's gonna be after, but somehow you didn’t want to listen. Not this time.

"Fuck it."

Saying that, you approached Dean and gripping him by the back of his neck, you pulled him down for a kiss. It was sloppy and deep, all teeth and tongues. He inhaled through his nose, bending down when your nails clawed at his skin. Grabbing you by the waist, he used a little pressure so you walked backwards. You didn’t expect to be pushed against the wall and a surprised gasp escaped you when your back hit it. Looking up at Dean, you noticed how his hungry eyes flickered over your figure and a cocky smirk formed on his face. You mirrored his expression and lifted your chin, so you could suck in his lower lip, biting on it softly. His response was immediate and fierce; he pressed his body to yours, pinning you to the wall completely, kissing you even deeper than before. The heat flooded you, making your cheeks burn and a sweat break.

You moaned and that seemed to spur him on because his hands started travelling all over your body. Doing the same, you aimed for his jacket, pushing it off his broad shoulders so it could land on the floor. The thought of finally discovering what was under his clothes took over your brain and you started to pull on his t-shirt, hazed and eager. But Dean grabbed your wrist and pinned it next to your head, not letting you undress him. You twisted and tugged, trying to break free, but he slid his fingers between yours and you instinctively clenched your palm.

“Don’t fight,” he breathed out, leaving your lips as he dropped to your neck, letting you take a much needed breath.

Leaning your head back you gave him the access to your throat where he licked and sucked, french-kissing your flesh. Your knees buckled a little when his hot lips closed on your pulse point, sending shivers down your spine as his stubble prickled you. Feeling his second hand sneaking under your shirt, you held your breath and jerked on the skin to skin contact. He wasn’t delicate; his long fingers were squeezing and digging, a firm touch making it all the more intense. Using your free hand you fisted his hair, pulling on it. Dean purred, nibbling on your flesh, making your eyes roll. It was like playing tennis, back and forth; you had an answer to each other's movements.

The hunger inside you was growing fast; you were getting more and more impatient and being caged by Dean only made you feel limited. So, naturally, you rebelled, trying to take control; with Dean it was always a competition. But your attempt only caused him to press his body more, his knee coming between your legs, making it harder for you to move. The thin material of your leggings was a weak protection to his touch and you whined when your sensitive area met his thigh. Fidgeting even more, you made him chuckle.

“Stop fighting,” he whispered into your ear as he pulled your earlobe between his teeth.

Growling, you turned your head and sunk your teeth into his neck, tasting sweet and salty. Dean hissed and backed away, looking down at you with a surprise in his eyes, brows slightly furrowed. You smiled and angled yourself to speak against his lips.

“Don’t act like you don’t like a fight, Winchester.”

The suggestion was clear and he seemed to understand. Your relationship was already a ticking bomb so why not have a little fun?

The challenging look you gave him was a last jolt and his mode switched. Before you could do anything, he kissed you firmly, letting go of you just to grab on the front of your shirt. Pulling with two hands Dean ripped the fabric in half, revealing your torso, making you smile a devil’s smile. He shook his head in disbelief that you were actually going along with it and grinning, he attacked your jaw. Scraping it with his teeth first, then kissing and going down passed your neck, to your collarbone. Bending his knees so he could reach lower and lower, he proceeded to shrug the destroyed clothing off you and focus on your breasts. Placing sloppy kisses on the curves, Dean moved his hands on your back and unclasped your bra. As soon as it was gone, he sucked in one of your nipples, causing you to arch your chest. Pulling his hair, you grabbed the back of his head, letting him know you enjoyed his work.

Every time his lips touched you, they left burning spots and you could feel yourself getting wetter. Not holding back anymore, you started to roll your hips, seeking the friction his leg could give you. Still playing with your boobs, he caught your hips and added the power to your moves, dragging a moan from you. Glancing down, you spotted the bulge in his sweatpants and realised he was still wearing too much clothes.

“Take that fucking shirt off,” you panted out, grabbing on the piece of clothing on his back.

This time he allowed you to do what you needed, lifting his arms to make your task easier and the second his chest was bare, you used your nails to leave red lines, making him grimace from pain before he kissed you. Caressing his newly exposed body, you felt firm muscles of his strong arms flexing. He wasn’t a gym type of guy, he was soft in some places but firm and strong in general, and that turned you on to the point your stomach flipped.

Suddenly, he pushed on your hips until your butt touched the wall behind you and pulled away from you, straightening himself. You looked at each other, panting and flinching in anticipation. Keeping the eye contact, Dean cupped your face, brushing his thumb over your swollen lips and slowly slid his hands down your body. You swallowed hard when he hooked his fingers behind your waistband and pulled your leggings down, crouching in front of you.

With a thumping heart you looked down at him, meeting his dark eyes watching you as he kissed your knee, your thigh, your inner thigh; his hands travelling up your legs, leaving goosebumps. You shivered when his hot breath hit your still clothed core. He placed a kiss on your damp panties, making your pussy clench and stopped. Leaning his forehead on your lower stomach, he tried to remain self-control, breathing strongly to calm himself down... and he failed. This whole situation was too much and he had wanted it for way too long to stop now.

Shooting up, he claimed your lips, driving his fingers inside your briefs at the same time. His digits went through your folds, gathering slick and found your clit, making you gasp into his mouth.

“Yeah? Right here?” he whispered and you sucked the air in through your mouth when he drew a circle, pressing harshly on your little nub.

Feeling him smiling, you clung to his neck, keeping him close when he started to make circles on your button. Moaning laughs escaped you, mixed with short breaths as you felt fire filling your veins, tickling sparks running from your clit to every nook of your system. For a moment you lost yourself in the feeling, but your brain woke up when he nudged you, rubbing his dick on your leg.

Opening your eyes, you locked them with his, tracing your palm down his chest and stomach. Somehow, you managed to turn you both around so he was by the wall. You didn’t care about teasing him through his pants so you pushed your hand inside and grabbed his hard shaft. Dean jerked and choked on his breath; the whole foreplay made him ridiculously sensitive.

You smiled satisfied and began to pump him, making his head fall back on the wall. His exposed neck was shining with sweat, throat moving as he swallowed hard. Your biting kink was begging for you to bite him, but the view was too good to not watch. His breathing quickened along with your strokes, his jaw flexing when he opened his mouth to chug. A thick vein popped out on the side of his neck, a guttural whine coming from him when you rubbed your thumb on his tip. Finally, you gave in and closed your lips on his jaw, light stubble pricking your lips. Dean turned his head and palming yours he brought you in for a kiss but you broke it fast, having enough.

"Come on," you said, taking his hand and leading him to your bedroom.

Not being able to stay away from each other, you stumbled towards the room, kissing and laughing, getting rid of the rest of the clothes on your way. Hitting the bed you let yourself fall on it, pulling Dean behind you. He hovered above you, using his tongue to play with your nipples as you both climbed up to the headboard. Adjusting the pillows beneath you, you felt his body pressing down, arms sneaking under yours as he kissed you deeply. Rolling his hips, he drove his cock between your folds, poking your clit and you automatically lifted your lower body up on your heels, feeling the electricity running through you. Dean bit down on your lip and pulled on it hard with his teeth, smiling when you hissed.

Without thinking much you just reached between your bodies and guided his cock to your entrance, making him freeze. The look he gave you was a mashup of a question and disbelief, and all it took was your evil smirk. You felt him fisting the sheets under you and with one, mild thrust he slid inside of you. Arching your back you inhaled, digging your fingers into his shoulders. He was stretching you; your walls fluttered around him when he bottomed out, making the two of you give silent moans, your voices stuck in your throats from intensity.

Watching you, he began to move, making you both more and more comfortable with the feeling. Gradually, his pace increased and so did the noises. Your breathy moans and growls filled the room, mixing with the sound of skin slapping on skin as Dean's hips waved between your thighs, faster and faster. New layers of sweat covered your bodies as the temperature increased; you felt the omnipresent, pleasurable burning.

Dean kept the rhythm, only stopping for just for a moment to kiss you. Not letting the opportunity pass, you pushed on him and flipped over so you were on top. Looking at you with a smirk, he palmed your asscheeks as you sinked down on him, continuing the activity.

The passion and sensuality made your head spin; Dean’s lustful eyes devouring you alive weren’t helping. You dragged your nails on his flesh again, making him hiss between the sounds. It wasn’t easy to breathe, to think or control yourself; your body started working by itself, speeding up, making you bounce on him while leaning your hands on his chest for support. Dean couldn’t decide where to touch, what part of you he should grab next; his hands were everywhere. Wrapping his fingers around the back of your neck he sat up, changing the angle and gave you this eye-rolling kiss. This asshole knew what he was doing.

A new position allowed you to only roll your hips and you laid back, grabbing Dean’s ankle to make your moves more fluent. He took a handful of your ass, helping you, watching himself sliding in and out of you, growling in pleasure. Tangled together you moved in sync, matching the other’s moves, grinding to empower the sensation. Feeling the coil tightening in your stomach, your head hung back and you exhaled, wailing quietly. A hand flattened on your back and Dean violently pulled you up, pressing your forehead to his. With closed eyes, panting against each other's mouth you chased both of your deliriums. Your pussy fluttered, your nails dug into his neck as you clasped it; the feeling started to overwhelm. The way Dean was moaning and clinging to you made it clear that he felt the same.

Your strength was fading and you found yourself slowing down. Dean’s attempts to continue were in vain as he was becoming weak too, exhaustion and his upcoming release taking over him.

“Y/N,” he warned you and you opened your eyes, looking at him when he reached between you. “I’m gonna-” you kissed him, cutting him off, tugging on his lip with your teeth.

“Stay inside,” you whispered, watching the surprise flash through his features.

The serious, assuring look on your face made his eyes roll back and the noise he made, clamped your stomach. Using your last strands of your power, you sped up, Dean joining you by hitting the right spot inside you. His fingers found your clit again, rubbing on it fast and you moaned loudly, feeling your muscles tightening.

A few more strokes, a few more moves and the crushing wave of pleasure hit you; your inner walls pulsated, squeezing Dean’s cock as you grabbed firmly on his neck, holding on for dear life. His thrusts went more erratic but also were more powerful; he was pounding inside you slow but hard, putting his forehead between your breasts. You were shaking and his breath fanning over your tummy only added more goosebumps.

Then you felt his arms wrapping around you and he hugged you tight. Pulling you close, Dean thrusted for the last time and with a low, throaty groan he stilled; his cock throbbing inside you, allowing you to milk him as you were still coming. The two of you were shivering, entwined in each other, panting and sweaty. Your heart was hammering and you could feel Dean’s galloping as well.

After calming down a bit, he let go of you and fell back on the bed, hitting the pillows with a sigh. Licking your lips, you looked down at him and smiled, seeing his eyes sparkling with joy and bliss. He laughed, caressing your thighs and then pulled you down for a kiss. It was sweet and soft, without tongue, just lips brushing yours; completely different then those earlier.

Oh, so he could be gentle too.

Cupping his face, you pecked his mouth a few times and then rolled off of him, standing up to make a quick run to your bathroom to clean yourself, leaving the door open.

"Hey!" you heard him yelling not even two minutes later, after you splashed your face with cold water. "Is it weird that I wanna cuddle?!"

You smiled on his words, shaking your head. Asshole also appeared to be a softie cuddler. Can this evening be any weirder?

"Yes!" you yelled back, laughing as you put down the cloth you were using to dry yourself.

"Cool!" he announced and then changed his tone, "I don't care."

Chuckling, you turned the light off on your way out and grabbed a random, oversized t-shirt from your drawer to put it on, letting it slip from one of your shoulders. Dean was making himself comfy in your bed, watching you carefully with his arm under his head and a stupid grin on his face.

"What?" you asked as you climbed on the bed, joining him under the covers.

"Nothing," he shrugged and shifted so you could fit in, resting your head on his chest.

Throwing your arm over his middle, you hugged him as his fingers came to trace the skin on your shoulder. A comfortable silence fell over you as you cuddled, enjoying the warmth, but you knew his mind was running, just like yours.

You didn’t like this tendency of yours to overthink, but the current situation was not only unexpected but also confusing. What now? Lovers? Relationship? Friends with benefits? Enemies with benefits? Because, you had to stay honest, if he did something that would piss you off, no matter how good he was in bed, you would still punch his perfect nose.

"I'm sorry." His words surprised you, detaching you from your thoughts. "For being a noisy neighbour."

You could hear the genuine guilt in his voice and that immediately made you feel like a bitch, so you said the first thing that came to your mind.

"I'm sorry for screwing up your car," you mumbled and quickly regretted it.

"Ha! So it was you!" His victory voice made your eyes roll and you poked his side, annoyed by the fact he dragged a confession from you so easily.

"But if it makes you feel any better, the paint is made of chalk so it’ll easily wash off," you said, unable to help the silly smile that spread across your face when you saw the relieved but shocked expression that he wore.

“Well played,” he chuckled, the sound rumbling under your ear which you found oddly comforting. So you snuggled more, melting into the intimacy.

You had to look the truth straight into the eye; maybe he did infuriate you like no other but there was something else. A pull, an urge to blow off the constant steam forming between you. You wanted him and something was telling you that from now on you won't be knocking on door number 12 just to fuss about loud music.

And once Jo finds out, you wouldn’t hear the end of it.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it :) Feel free to leave some feedback. ASKs and DMs are open, don’t be afraid to message me. Every word from you is gold <3

Tag list is open! :)

If something is not working, you weren’t on the tag list even if you wanted to, you can’t send an ask or you didn’t receive the notification about me tagging you in any of my fics, please contact me in DM’s.

Tag list: @deanwanddamons @jay-and-dean @katehuntington @winchest09 @talesmaniac89 @roonyxx @bunkerconfessions @akshi8278 @snffbeebee @lady-pswrld @rvgrsbrns @polina-93 @teresa-67 @alwayskeepfightingsweetheart @mrspeacem1nusone @flamencodiva @cutiecowgirl @waywardbaby @flashxspn @lyarr24

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k-odyssey · 3 years ago

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Thoughts on tvn's Happiness (ep 9 & 10)

There's something very biblical about pouring your (pure) blood so that the sinners infected will show themselves? Or did the christian symbols get to me? It's a shame the sacrificial lamb got scratched and everything is a mess.

10 episodes and I still get surprised and scared when people turn. It's hard to consistently keep creating tension but they do it. It's also hard to make a show that requires tension that I won't find unwatchable, but they're also doing it.

Often the soundtrack really helps building up that tension, but here while he was walking around the room with his bloody hand extended, the silence was very effective. You could taste anticipation in the air.

I've said it already, but I love the foreshadowing in Happiness. There's some solid writing in there, and not just spur-of-the-moment plot twists. Like, did I find it very strange that the pastor was repelling zombies at the time? Yup. Did I consider the fact that he might be infected? Yes, briefly. Did I put that aside and kinda forget it because the writer redirected my attention elsewhere? 100%.

The fact that this one moment made the cop friend find god but had a scientific explanation??? I love that so much. I'd love more of that on tv pls.

There were also hints about the supermarket girl and I had not at all made the connection.

I looked up the writer and for once, it's a man. He did write WATCHER which I started and did not finish, because it had a definite lack of women and no romance. I don't know what he's been doing since 2019—well I kinda do, he's been living through a pandemic like the rest of us—but I like the direction in which he's taking his work.

The science feels a little shaky, but it's vague and in the background enough that I don't care too much. They don't do the thing where they keep shoving their "high tech" equipment in your face while speaking nonsense about DNA or whatever.

To get back to the important stuff: I wish Yi Hyun would tell the truth!!! He was bound to get infected, what with always jumping in to save the day. But even if it makes sense, I hate it. I also hate it because, and I hadn't noticed it at first but only after I finished episode 10 and thought about it, he's been more distant from Sae Bom since he got scratched. And I thrive on their intimacy so this hurts.

They're a team, and he promised he would say if it happened!! I know that it's his well-documented protective instincts acting out and he's doing this out of love but ARGH! You can't just sacrifice yourself without discussing it. Well, if you discuss it, it's true that you won't be able to sacrifice yourself cause she won't let you.

It's killing me that she noticed all the signs, but he knows her well enough to fool her.

I said last week that Han Tae Seok and Yi Hyun are similar and it's confirmed this week. HTS knew immediately that Hyun was infected, cause he probably would've done the exact same thing if it were him. I still think Hyun wouldn't go as far as manipulating others the way HTS does though.

I haven't said anything about Sae Bom yet, but it's not because I don't love her. She keeps being an awesome character, and I do particularly enjoy watching her when she's angry. If they didn't show her tender side, I'd feel differently I think. But she's both warm AND scary. She's magnetic, I see why Hyun made her his god.

Not sure what to say about the residents. I'm not feeling as indulgent as Hyun, thinking about them. It's amazing how quickly the apartment complex has become a lawless place. Also the ratio of murderers is way too high, even though the ratio of police officers in presence is also very high. We have a serial killer in the building??? What are the chances???

The actor playing creepy/evil upstairs neighbour is doing such a good job, my god I hate his guts. Shout out to the guy playing the lawyer as well, would you believe I keep yelling at his wife through the screen to strangle leave him?

Actually, they're all doing a good job. I also have unmentionable thoughts about the representative lady, although she looked genuinely devastated by her husband's death and for a moment there, I believed she was human. Maybe they're all too human.

The ending this week though?? You're gonna stand outside while someone is being killed so you can take their assets?? While a child is in there with a murderer?? This is reminiscent of the worst kinds of wartime stories.

PS: I think it's genius to have a countdown followed by a counter (?). Really drives the point home that there's nothing to look forward to now, we're just marking the passing of time and hoping there's an end to this.

#happiness #tvn happiness #해피니스 #kdrama thoughts

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ultraintrovertedgryffindor · 4 years ago

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WPP - Kenny (We’re The Millers)

This has been sitting in my drafts for months and I was struggling to finish it, but, a bright light ascended from the heavens, in the form of an angel, and that angel’s name is @gladerscake

Big thanks to them for helping me out and finishing this imagine. Go follow them and give all the love and support you can muster!

~~~~~~~~~~

Being in the witness protection program was...interesting.

It definitely was not what you were expecting, but then again, you didn’t know helping out a person you cared about would get you involved in a murder, yet here you are.

You had to leave everything behind, not that you had that much of a life to begin with, but it was comfortable. Now, everything was different. New home in a new state, even a new last name. Thankfully, you got to keep your first name, you were grateful for that at least.

You were surprised to find the most annoying thing was the neighbourhood that the program placed you in. It’s like it was made for Mormons or something, your neighbours were too nice, at least the house to the right of yours. You didn’t really know who lived in the house to the left, working from home had the benefit of never going outside and the only reason you knew who lived to your right was cause those neighbours were the type of people to introduce themselves.

Yuck.

But still, you couldn’t help but be a little curious.

You did know, however, that they had only recently moved in since the one morning truck woke up before your alarm rang that morning. You were grouchy the rest of the day, thus you’ve been slightly petty towards your “new” neighbours since then. You definitely needed to work on your attitude...one day.

After being inside your house for more than a week, you decided you wanted some vitamin D, which you rarely ever did so you must’ve been seriously deprived.

You walked out of the door leading to the backyard with a book in hand, frowning when you saw how overgrown the grass was from your laziness. You told yourself you’d do it later, and by later you meant you would mow your yard when you started to hate yourself enough to the point where you felt too guilty leaving it alone.

You huffed as you sat in one of your lawn chairs that you bought when you moved in, lying to yourself that you were going to spend more time outside when you knew you wouldn’t. A first for everything, you supposed.

A few chapters in, you heard a door open and shut in your neighbour’s backyard, but you thought nothing of it, almost too entranced in your book.

You smiled to yourself when you started to hear 1990s R&B playing softly, not your cup of tea but you enjoyed it occasionally. Don’t Go Chasing Waterfalls had just started playing when you heard the neighbour’s back door slammed. “Dude, turn that shit off! You’ve been playing that song constantly and I’m actually getting sick of it. God.” You heard an angsty female voice.

Oh no...you lived next a family.

“Hey!”

You flinched, noticing a blonde girl was talking you. “Uh, hey?” You slowly closed your book, reluctantly walking over to the fence separating the backyards when the girl motioned you over.

“Haven’t seen you around before, just move in?” She asked, smirking slightly, looking you up and down.

You mocked her smirk, not liking the almost condescending look she was giving you. “No, been here for awhile. That’s how I know you’ve only just moved in a few weeks ago.”

The girl’s smirk only grew. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N. Yours?”

“Casey, and that loser is Kenny.” She pointed to the table behind her, seeing a blonde boy sitting somewhat dejectedly in one of the chairs fiddling with a small CD player. “Hey, TLC, get over here!” The boy looked to Casey with a panicked expression, visibly looking like he wasn’t sure if the girl meant it or not. She rolled her eyes, “Come on, dude!”

The boy nodded, frantically walking away to join Casey at the fence. “Hey.” He stuttered, blushing when he noticed your eyes on him.

Casey rolled her eyes yet again. “Yeah, this is Kenny.”

Kenny waved quite adorably, giving you a tight lipped smile. “Did you just move in?”

“No, I-”

“We’ve already had this talk, she’s been here longer than we have.” Casey interrupted, making your blood boil a little bit, her attitude almost worse than yours.

Kenny frowned slightly, but covered it up with a smile. “Oh.”

“Yep. We’ve already become besties.” You said sarcastically, grinning widely, making Kenny genuinely smile a little.

“Kids!” A middle aged man with a stupid haircut, to you anyway, walked over with hesitant look on his face. “Who’s this?”

“Y/N, your neighbour that’s lived here longer than you have. Saved you the trouble of telling him yourself, Casey.” You sneered.

“Oh. Well, I’m David and we’re the Millers! My wife, Sarah, is at the market right now, but I’m sure she’d be glad to meet you sometime.” He smiled widely, making you uncomfortable.

“Uh, dad, chill out. You’re gonna scare away the only girl I find suitable to be friends with in this shit neighbourhood.” Casey whispered harshly.

You didn’t really want to be friends with Casey, you never really got along with girls. Clearly, reading outside was a bad choice...

“Ha ha, if you sass me one more time today, you will be grounded young lady.” David forced another smile.

“Uh, Dad...”

“Shut up, Kenny.”

You quickly realized where the Kenny kid was in the family food chain. It was a shame, the dude was pretty easy on the eyes and seemed nice from what you’ve seen. “Look, I’m just gonna go. Nice meeting you fine folks...” You waved awkwardly, turning around and practically speed walking inside your house.

Well, that was fun...never going outside ever again.

The overall encounter put you in a sour mood, so when the doorbell rang you prayed to god that it wasn’t the yearly check in with law enforcement cause you’d probably get yourself in trouble with that attitude of yours.

You were mildly shocked to see that awkward Kenny guy outside your door, his eyes trained on his feet before you opened the door. “Kenny Miller, right?”

“Uh...yeah, Miller. Uh, I just want to apologize for my, uh, family’s behavior. They don’t have the best of manners, but they’re good people, I swear!” He ranted at such a quick pace that it almost flew right over your head. “So, yeah, sorry.”

You chuckled at his nervousness. “You don’t have to be sorry, especially on the behalf of your family. They don’t seem like the type to appreciate it anyway.”

His eyes widened, holding up his hands and shaking his head. “No, no, no, it’s not like that! They, uh, appreciate me.” You kept your mouth shut, giving him a sympathetic look with a soft smile. He sighed. “It’s that obvious, huh?”

“To me, it is. I’ve been in that situation before, so it’s not that hard to notice.”

“Oh...well, they can be nice sometimes I guess.”

“I hope so. Well, it was nice to meet you, Kenny.” You stuck your hand out, smiling when he hesitated but shook your outstretched hand gently.

A week later, you and Kenny actually became friends despite the two of you being almost complete opposites. He was able to poke through your cynical exterior, which was extremely rare for someone to do. He made you laugh, smile, and actually enjoy life when you were with him. You didn’t like it at first, but his adorkable personality won you over.

Kenny was more than overjoyed, he finally had a friend, not one out of pity anyway. The first time you two had hung out, he came “home” with a huge grin on his face. Of course, Casey had to tease him about it all the time.

“I still don’t understand how she can be friends with that loser and not me!” Casey ranted. “It doesn’t make sense!”

“Casey, stop calling Kenny a loser, please.” Sarah sighed, tapping away on her keyboard.

As soon as Sarah said that, Kenny walked through the door with another grin on his face. “Hey, Ma!”

“You don’t have to call me that here, hon.” Sarah voiced, shutting her laptop and walking out of the kitchen, but she smiled to herself.

“Pop your cherry yet?” Casey smirked evilly.

Kenny immediately blushed. “I told you, we’re just friends...”

She rolled her eyes. “You obviously want to be more than just friends with her. You should just ask her out and get it over with.”

“But...Melissa...”

Casey huffed loudly. “Dude, I already told you, she’s probably moved on by now. She was a total babe, she can and probably has done way better than you.”

“Hey...” Kenny frowned, to which Casey just shrugged, her eyes training back to her phone. He sighed as he sat down across from his “sister.” “I do like her...but I don’t know how to bring it up. I’m awful at talking to girls about...that kind of stuff.”

Casey snorted. “Yeah, no kidding.” But she dropped her amused smirk when she saw Kenny glaring. “Sorry, sorry.” She sassed. “I mean, it did work out with the ginger to be fair, but we have to stay in this shithole until further notice. But I really do think you should shoot your shot with what’s her name.”

Kenny rolled his eyes. “Y/N.”

“Yeah, whatever. Just-”

“That girl is bad news.” David suddenly voiced, walking into the kitchen.

“What do you mean by that?” Casey asked.

“Uh, hello? Pay attention to your surroundings instead of that stupid phone of yours to see that we are in witness protection. We can’t trust any of these creepy neighbours.”

“Uh, I think you’re a tad bit paranoid, father dearest.”

“Y/N’s really cool though!” Kenny expressed.

David rolled his eyes. “But we don’t really know her, we don’t know if she’s a snitch or something.”

Casey laughed. “Wow, you really are paranoid, dude.”

“Ha ha, very funny, just go to your room and listen to your Metallicas and AC/DCs.”

Casey’s face contorted into a disgusted scowl. “I don’t listen to that garbage.”

“Shut up.” David simply replied, making Casey stand up and storm out of the room and up the stairs. “Look, Ken, I get you like this girl, but you need to be careful. Don’t say things you shouldn’t and all that. You have a tendency to not know when to shut your mouth. So, don’t do that, kay?”

Kenny nodded curtly, avoiding David’s eyes as he felt his face heat up in slight anger. He knew he had some...issues with keeping his mouth shut about things that should be kept a secret, but he grew up, right? He’s not as naïve as he was before they went to Mexico, but his “family” still treated him like he was five. Plus, he knew you weren’t the type to be a snitch.

While Kenny was dealing with feeling underappreciated, you were having your own set of issues to handle. Today was the day for a check up with law enforcement to make sure you were on your best behavior. You always were, but it still made you anxious to no end. And you prayed that Kenny wouldn’t rush in to your house like he got into the habit of doing when you were interrogated.

Of course, that didn’t happen.

“For fuck’s sake...” You muttered under your breath when you saw Kenny’s shocked and scared face when he saw you sitting with a couple local police officers.

On your end, it just looked like he was scared of police officers. But Kenny’s mind immediately went haywire, thinking that you called them over to investigate them even though the police were already informed of “the Millers” situation.

“Kenny, now’s not a good time.” You sighed.

“No, no, it’s okay.” The police officer in front of you said. “We’re done here anyway.” He walked out of your house with his partner, leaving you and Kenny in an awkward silence.

“What was that all about?” Kenny asked, not being able to control the bitter tone in his voice. “Did you think we’re that bad or something?”

“Kenny, I-”

“We’ve been doing really well here!” Kenny interrupted. “No problems with anybody, been on our best behavior.”

“Kenny.”

“I don’t wanna go to jail. I can’t go to jail. We’ve only been here for a couple months.”

“Kenny, stop!” You finally yelled, losing your temper. “They were here to check up on me, for fuck’s sake.”

Kenny’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but still had a slight expression of panic. “Here for you? B-But-”

“I’m in witness protection, you dweeb, same as you.”

“Oh...Wait, how did you know I’m in witness protection?”

“Your family,” You finger quoted, “looks nothing like you. All of you don’t look anything alike. How paranoid and secretive that David is, it wasn’t too hard to put things together. You rambling off like an absolute moron a minute ago just reaffirmed my theory.”

Kenny frowned. “Dang, I thought I had worked on that.”

You smiled slightly. “It’s alright, Ken. I’m no snitch, and I’m not very judgmental about someone’s past. What did you even do though? You’re definitely not the type to break the law.” You chuckled.

“Oh, well, we kinda smuggled some drugs across the Mexican border.” He stuttered.

“Holy shit, dude! That’s sick! What was it? Was it coke?” You grinned, eager to learn.

Kenny blinked at your excitement, but obliged to all your questions, sitting down next to you. “No, it was marijuana.”

Your face slightly dropped in excitement. “Oh. I really think weed should be legal. It’s stupid, it’s not even a hard drug.”

“Well, we’re lucky we even made it out alive. But what did you go through to get yourself here?”

Now, you definitely didn’t judge past crimes of others, if they’ve atoned for it and changed that is, but you had no idea if Kenny would judge you. You actually found yourself not wanting him to look at you in a different light, and you’ve never felt that way before.

Kenny seemed perfectly sweet, almost too sweet to judge anyone, but on the other hand...the stuff that had landed you in the program was definitely heavier than some weed smuggling.

Maybe it would be too much for him. Maybe it would be best to just make something up, something less horrible, something he wouldn’t be too shocked by. As tempting as that route felt, the idea of lying to him weirdly didn’t sit well with you, though.

Kenny was quick to notice the lengthy pause that followed his question, as well as the way your shoulders tensed and your eyes averted to the parquet floor. Oh no. Had he pried into something too personal? Was he an idiot for asking?

“Oh, um...you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to!” Kenny hurried to assure you, slight panic beginning to etch his bluish-green eyes, his fists clenching and unclenching involuntarily. “I was just curious, is all! I’m sorry if it’s too persona-“

“It’s okay!” To his surprise, you pulled on a tight-lipped smile, giving him a look as nonchalant as you could manage at the moment. “Really, you don’t have to apologize for asking. Plus, you already told me about your thing, so...” You trailed off, softly, wondering how to proceed.

As much as you resented the thought of Kenny seeing you differently, you decided even that unpleasant outcome would still be better than lying to him. You’d rather not. You liked Kenny. Despite not having spent a tremendous amount of time together, you could tell he was a genuinely good person, and you definitely enjoyed his company. Not to mention, it would be a blatant lie if you said you weren’t at all attracted to him.

Casey may have spent most of their interactions calling him a “loser” in some form or another, but you couldn’t be farther away from agreeing with her. A part of you was positively annoyed with the way she treated him. Then again, taste is subjective. It wasn’t Casey’s fault if she didn’t have a good sense of it.

With a deep intake of air, you nervously flipped a loose strand of hair over your shoulder, still avoiding direct eye-contact with Kenny. “I, uh...It’s a rough one, really. And kind of a long story. I wouldn’t wanna dump something like that on you, if you’d rather not hear it”

He tentatively pursed his plump lips, but nonetheless nodded for you to keep going. “I’m sure I can handle it! Whatever it is, I’m not gonna judge you, Y/N. I promise!”

Promise, huh? Guess you were going to have to see about that.

Trying to ignore the rapidly increasing pace of your heart and slight tremble in your fingers, you began your story.

You didn’t want to go into too much detail, for the fear of oversharing, but you did tell him as much as you felt you could. About how you used to have a friend...a pretty close friend, who you cared about a great deal, who had always been kind and generous, alas, a bit of a troublemaker.

About how she had fallen in with the wrong crowd, something you admittedly failed to see coming. How that crowd turned out to be a notoriously vicious gang that had it out for some other poor girl, who had apparently slept with one of the gang leaders’ boyfriend without realizing it.

How that gang, your friend included, lured her onto a rooftop to “fuck with her” and “teach her a lesson.” Only that night, they went too far and ended up pushing her off. The girl died instantly, and due to the heaping pile of evidence, it wasn’t a particularly long investigation. Almost everyone involved were arrested shortly after, and you, having been brought in as one of the witnesses, had a choice whether you wanted to testify against your friend or not.

At first you weren’t sure if you wanted to do that and make matters worse for her. However, after some much-needed reflection and consideration, you decided it would be the right thing to do. Someone had died, and your friend played a part in it. You couldn’t turn a blind eye to something that big simply because you two were close.

Your friend was put away, along with several other gang members. Still, quite a few of them were still out there, and they definitely seemed like the type to hold serious grudges. You were no longer safe at your former home, and now...well, there you where.

Kenny listened intently all the while, not once daring to interrupt, not even to ask a question. By the way your breathing had hitched and your lips had stuttered at certain parts, he could tell how hard that must’ve been for you to go through in the first place, and how unsettling it was for you to revisit those moments in order to share your story with him.

You didn’t notice, but as you were nearing the end, Kenny had inched to sit closer to you, his large hand carefully landing on your shoulder with a soft but warm-hearted squeeze. He had briefly hesitated in making that move, but the need to offer you comfort and reassurance overpowered his nervousness. His only hope was that you wouldn’t flinch at his touch, and so he felt a huge wave of relief wash over him when you did no such thing.

“So...that’s about it. Sorry, I know it’s a fucking bummer story, compared to your weed smuggling adventure.” You attempted a chuckle, only it came out as more of a sad scoff.

Your heart was still pounding and you were still reluctant to look up at him. Although, as you finally noticed Kenny’s warm hand gently squeezing your shoulder, you felt a soothing brush of comfort spread through your limbs, and you couldn’t deny how nice it felt.

“Whoa...that’s...I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” Kenny frowned, unsure of what the right thing to say could be.

“It’s okay, really. I’ve had some time to process it and move on. Well...not completely, but I’d say I’m doing much better now.”

Kenny went silent for a minute, clearly still digesting the information, and the worries you had about him looking at you differently came back in full force. You opened your mouth to ask him about it, but he beat you by a millisecond, speaking first. “Why...why were you so nervous about telling me?”

So he had noticed. Figures. The art of the poker face wasn’t something you’d ever truly mastered. It sometimes annoyed you how easy your anxious state was to spot, but there wasn’t much you could do about that.

“I don’t know, I...I guess I didn’t want you to see me as a snitch or judge me-“

“Judge you?” Kenny interrupted, sounding confused about the mere insinuation. “For what, not sticking up for your friend when she had got herself involved in a murder?”

“I mean, she was still my friend, so...”

“So what? That doesn’t change the fact that she got in the middle of something so horrible, that could’ve been avoided, if she had paid more attention to who she hung around.”

You couldn’t say you had expected that. It was almost weird hearing Kenny talk that way, but you were definitely relieved to hear where he so firmly stood in regards to the whole “judging you” idea.

You bit your bottom lip in agitation as a thought you had been wrestling with for a while creeped its way into your mind again. “Sometimes I feel like maybe I could’ve done something...could’ve checked up on her more or somehow stopped her from hanging out with them...maybe I could’ve kept her from having anything to do with it.” Your voice grew quieter, sounding barely above a whisper as guilt flashed through your eyes, your muscles tensing, uneasily, at the thought. Kenny was immediately closer, his arm wrapping around you, as if trying to shelter you from your own thoughts.

“Come on, don’t do that to yourself, Y/N. You can’t control the actions of others, not even your friends. Least of all your friends, probably.”

You allowed a small smile to touch the corner of your lips as you instinctively leaned into Kenny, his closeness calming you, his soft reassurances shushing the self-deprecating thoughts he could sense looming over you.

“Yeah, you’re right, I guess. I just try not to think about it often, it really sucks diving into that stuff.”

“Of course it sucks. I just hope you know that none of it was even a little bit your fault. From what I can tell after spending some time with you...you’re a really good person, Y/N.”

You looked up at him, noting the way your faces were only a few inches apart by that point. The close proximity brought a rosy tinge to your cheeks. “You think so?”

“I do! Why wouldn’t I? You’re smart, you’re funny when you want to be, you’re great to be around, and heck, you’re one of the very few people I know who doesn’t make me feel like I’m constantly doing something wrong.”

Hearing that made you simultaneously happy and sad. With the way Kenny’s “family” treated him almost around the clock, it was no wonder he felt that way. You wished he didn’t have to. You believed someone as wonderful as him deserved so much better. If only he had at least one person close to him who would tell him how much better he was than most guys out there, how anyone should be lucky to call him a friend... or maybe more than just a friend.

In that moment, you found yourself thinking what it would be like if you were that person. You imagined it would feel the same way it always did when you were around Kenny, only better. In all honesty, you couldn’t find a single reason not to try. What harm was there in trying? Oh, that’s right...something could go badly wrong, and then whatever friendship you had with him would be in shambles.

That’s what the pessimistic side of you thought about it. But the other side, the more hopeful and affectionate side, had other ideas.

Even though you and Kenny were brought into the witness protection program by very different circumstances, you were still in it together. You didn’t have to hide your true identities or your past, at least not from each other. That had to count for something, right?

While you were taking a second to collect your thoughts, Kenny was facing some inner turmoil of his own. With the newfound closeness of the two of you, his cheeks were positively crimson, his pulse quickening, heart thumping against his rib cage. Any doubts he’d had about whether or not he wanted to ask you out had vanished - he absolutely wanted to do that. But how? When? Would now be a good time? He wasn’t sure. Yet, he was very aware of the fact that if he were to lean in just a little bit closer, he could just kiss you right then and there...

Kenny briefly remembered David’s “count to three” method, but for some reason it didn’t feel right to use. Not with you, not like that. All he wanted was to just go with the feeling, and that feeling was beckoning him to your lips.

Oh, screw it. If you were to push him away, so be it. He would probably die a little inside and never attempt to do anything like that ever again, but at least he would know your immediate answer.

“Kenny...?”

Your soft questioning voice reached his ears as his gaze trailed over your delicate face, taking in every feature, and with a soft but resolute breath, he leaned in.

Your eyes went wide when Kenny’s lips landed on yours. You froze for a second, not knowing what to do. Luckily, your instantly skipping heart gave you the hint you needed to flutter your eyes closed and melt into it.

He kissed you so gently, so carefully, but not like he was afraid of scaring you away. More like he wanted you feel completely safe and give you every chance to stop it the second you wanted to.

You didn’t.

Instead, you wrapped an arm around his neck, your fingertips brushing the ends of his short sandy hair, your lips moving seamlessly and warmly against his own.

Kenny couldn’t believe you were actually kissing him back, but damn, he was thrilled that you were. He felt the affection in him surge as the softness of your lips put his mind in a haze. His hand timidly slid down to your waist, bringing you closer to him, and you willingly went, deepening the kiss as you did.

After a few blissful moments you finally broke away from his lips, your noses nearly brushing each other as you looked up at him through glimmering eyes. “I was almost convinced I would have to do that myself...”

Kenny breathed a soft chuckle, not taking his gaze off of yours. “To be honest, so was I...”

You grinned at his burning cheeks, releasing a light chuckle of your own before reconnecting your lips for another kiss, swallowing the muted grunt that rumbled from Kenny’s throat.

Things were going to get better now. For both of you, you were sure of it. Kenny was finally going to have someone who would show him what it’s like to be truly wanted and appreciated, and you were going to have someone who wouldn’t dream of hurting you and who you knew would always do his best to understand you, give you everything he could give.

Maybe this whole witness protection program thing wouldn’t be such a tedious affair, after all.

~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks again for helping me @gladerscake , you’re the sweetest ❤

#we're the millers #kenny miller #kenny miller x reader #kenny miller imagine

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bangtanreadingcorner · 4 years ago

Text

all my tomorrow’s • min yoongi

plot – yoongi gets it in his head that you wouldn’t stand by him through just about anything, so you help him remember.

words – 2.6K

“Hey, can we talk?” Yoongi asks when you two walked out of your ensuite bathroom, having just taken a shower together. You were going to make some tea and then cuddle in bed, watching a movie or a series.

“Yeah, sure, what’s up?” You grinned at him, towel drying your hair over your shoulder.

“So, my surgery is coming up in a few days.” He started, clearly nervous, sitting on the edge of your shared bed in a shirt and flannel pants.

You frowned a little, not sure where exactly he’s heading with this conversation, but you nod anyway. “I know. Three days, to be exact.”

He hums, then looks at you, gripping the sheets. “What I’m trying to say is, these next few months, they’re not gonna be easy, so, I’d understand if you want to take a break.”

You looked at him, watching as he lowered his head, wondering how he could have possibly come up with this ridiculous idea. Maybe he was joking. When he didn’t say anything else, and you realised that he was being dead serious, you scoffed.

“You’re a real fucking idiot, you know that?” You said, completely serious. He looked up at that, eyes widening in surprise but there was relief on his face too.

“I’m just giving you the option.” He defended.

You clicked your tongue at him, offended. “Well, I never asked for it.”

He sighed gently, voice low when he spoke. “This isn’t what you signed up for.”

You turned away from him, trying to suppress the urge to scream at him. Maybe you could get one of the other members to beat some sense into him. Definitely not Jeongguk, the maknae would take it a bit too literal.

You sighed, taking a deep breath before turning to face your idiot. “Yoongi, why do you think I’m with you?”

“Because you love me.” He answered without hesitation and you felt relieved that he knew at least that much.

“Great, so you know.” You deadpanned, the smile on your face edging on sharp. “Now, can you please explain to me why I would want a break from our relationship when you would need my support most?” You glared at him slightly.

“Because I will be in pain, and difficult and I will need to do P.T and I will probably be short tempered.” Yoongi blurted and you felt anger starting to stir inside of you.

“Did it ever occur to you that I might want to be there despite that? That I want to take care of you while you heal?” You asked, voice a little heated.

His silence was more than enough of an answer.

“Jesus Christ.” You felt a little defeated, anger washing away and tears stinging your eyes. “Five years, Yoongi. Five fucking years we’ve been together. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“I’m sorry, I just thought you might want to sit this one out.” He shrugged, looking a little guilty.

“Heaven and hell, good and bad – that’s what we promised each other. Do you remember?” You looked him in the eyes, hoping the memory flashed to the surface for him as it did for you.

Two years ago:

“I want to marry you.” Yoongi said while you two were walking hand in hand on a secluded beach somewhere in Turkey. You couldn’t remember the name.

You tilted your head at him, a warm smile on your face, skin golden under the light of the setting sun. “Are you asking me or telling me?”

“I’m telling you.” He said firmly. “Let’s get married. Tonight.”

You wanted to laugh, but one look at his serious face had you stopping in your tracks. “Are you insane?”

“Insanely in love with you, yeah, but that’s besides the point.” Yoongi waved you off. “So, what do you say?”

“What about your fans and your members?” You asked, throat feeling dry and your heart beat speeding up because the longer you thought about it, the more you wanted it. Yoongi being your husband.

Husband.

The thought was a little dizzying.

Yoongi stepped in front of you, taking hold of your hands. “We don’t have to make it public. It’s just a piece of paper anyways, and it’s not like your surname would change like in other countries if we did sign papers, so what’s the point? Marriage is more than a piece of paper. Years ago, people didn’t sign any papers and they were still married, so why can’t we do it? As for the guys, they know. They’ve known since I looked at rings in Hawaii a year ago.”

“A year ago?” You echoed, grip on his hands tightening. “You’ve really thought about this.”

“I have.” Yoongi nodded in agreement. “I asked the others earlier and they’ll be witnesses for us. We can do it right here.” He gestured to the beach you were walking on.

Tears welled up in your eyes as the looks on the guys' faces suddenly made sense when Yoongi asked you to go for a walk on the beach earlier. “Well, I mean, I do have that white dress Hoseok bought for me as an early birthday present yesterday.”

Yoongi smiled at you, eyes twinkling as he gave you a pointed look. You gasped, tears finally rolling past the brims of your eye banks. “Oh my God, that was actually from you?”

When he nodded, you let out a half-laugh, half-sob. “I know it’s not exactly what you’d consider a traditional wedding dress, but I thought it would do nicely.”

“It’s perfect.” You assured him.

His eyes lit up, “Is that a yes?”

“Yes, I’ll marry you.” You nodded, another tear rolling down your cheek.

He pulled something out of his pocket, a ring. An engagement ring. You gasped again, "Where did you even get that?"

"My mom bought it for me a few months ago." Yoongi admitted with a shy smile. "I would have done it myself, but then I would have trended on Twitter five minutes later." He said, taking your hand and slipping the ring on your finger.

The next few hours went by in a blur as you showered, did your hair and then pulled on your dress, forgoing shoes because it was a beach wedding, after all. You felt so giddy at the thought that you let out a squeak of happiness. Finally, there was a knock on the sliding door that lead outside to the beach. You opened it and grinned at the person at the other side.

“Hey Hoseok.” You stepped aside and let your oldest friend in. He was wearing a white button up and white dress pants that were rolled up to his ankles, also barefoot.

“Wow, you look really beautiful, Y/N.” He gave you his sunny smile and you felt a little less nervous.

“Thank you.” You told him, sincerely. “For everything.” Because he was the one who introduced you to Yoongi. Sure, it was to the whole band at the time, wanting them to know his best friend in the whole world. You and Hoseok grew up together in Gwangju, next door neighbours and best friends from the first play date your mother’s arranged. “If it wasn’t for you, I would have never met Yoongi.”

“Ah, it was nothing.” He waved you off with that cheery grin of his. “You two did all of the hard work, nearly killed each other too.”

You rolled your eyes fondly, “We weren’t that bad.”

“Yes, you were.” Hoseok said with a serious look on his face. “Yoongi-hyung thought you weren’t interested and you thought he hated you because he almost always left the room the second you came in, when he was just really shy around you.”

“We figured it out eventually, didn’t we?” You pouted.

“Only because we locked you in a room together and wouldn’t let you guys out until you talked to each other.” Hoseok pointed out.

“Eh, semantics.” You two giggled and when you called down, you looked at him seriously. “Hoseok-ah, can I ask you a favour?”

“Anything.” He said and meant it. Yoongi often joked and said that you and Hoseok were like Jimin and Taehyung – soulmates. He also said that you’d probably murder and cover up a murder for each other.

Personally, you like to think that neither you or Hoseok are that violent.

“So, we’ve known each other since we were six months old, we went to school together and did everything we could together and if there is any truth in soulmates like Jimin and Taehyung believe, then I’d like to think that you are mine. So, Jung Hoseok, partner of my soul and best friend of my life, will you walk me to the beach and give me away?” You looked at him.

“Yes, I’d be honoured.” He nodded, eyes shining with tears like yours did. And so he did, he walked you down the makeshift isle to the beach where Yoongi was standing with the rest of the band.

You’d have like your parents to be here but it’s okay, they are here in spirit, having given Yoongi their blessing long ago.

Yoongi and the rest of the guys were dressed exactly the same as Hoseok, white button up and dress pants, rolled up to their ankles.

“I’d say take care of her, hyung, but that’s all you’ve ever done.” Hoseok said with a bright, teary smile as he gave your hand to Yoongi.

Namjoon would be ‘officiating’, so he stood with his back facing the ocean, while the rest of them stood on the other side of you and Yoongi, looking at the ocean and you and Yoongi looked at each other, holding hands.

“I’m not exactly sure how this works, but I’ll try.” Namjoon said, causing all of you to chuckles. “We are all here to celebrate the union of Yoongi-hyung and Y/N. They didn’t have the easiest road but they got here, with hard work and being dedicated to each other. Yoongi-hyung said they wanted to do their own vows.”

Yoongi nodded, smiling at you. “Ladies, first.”

“I didn’t have time to write something, so I’ll just speak from the heart. Yoongi, my love, my heart. There is so many things I could say to you, comparisons I could make and metaphors I could use but in the end, they could never fully explain everything I feel for you and they all add up to the same thing: I love you. And I will love you for as long as there is breath in my lungs and even after. Heaven or hell, I’ll pick whatever road you take. Good times and bad times, I’ll be by your side. For all my tomorrow's.”

Yoongi was smiling that gummy smile at you, the one you fell for the first time you saw it. “Y/N, that was beautiful and I loved it. I hope you like mine. I’ve been thinking about vows for a while now, knowing that I’d want to say something to you. And in the end I realised that there is nothing I could say here, today, that I haven’t already said and will say again to you, so instead I’ll tell you a secret you’ve always wanted to know – how I fell in love with you. The first time I saw you, I knew there was something about you. It wasn’t until a few months later, when you came over for dinner and laughed with Hoseok about something Jeonggukie did, one of those belly deep laughs, and I couldn’t take my eyes off you, that it finally hit me. I was falling in love with you. And everyday since then, I’ve been falling. And like you said, heaven or hell, good or bad, I’ll always love you and I’ll always be by your side.”

You both turned to Namjoon, who smiled at you, dimples showing. “I guess asking if you’ll always be there for each other is kind of moot now, huh?” You laughed a little, feeling so full love that you might actually combust.

Namjoon looked at you, “So, Y/N, do you take Yoongi-hyung as your husband?”

“I do.” You grinned.

“Yoongi-hyung, do you take Y/N as your wife?”

“I do.”

“In that case, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

Present Day:

You looked at him, eyes searching desperately to see if he could still remember your vows from your wedding.

“I’ll always remember.” He looked at you softly, and so full of love, like he always does.

You walked to him, until you were right in front of him. His eyes followed you. Your voice was quiet and full of hurt when you asked him, “Then why would you tell me something like that?”

Yoongi took your hands and pulled you closer until you climbed onto his lap, straddling him with your knees. He rested his forehead against yours. “Because I’m an idiot who is hopelessly in love with you and I’m still terrified that one day this life is going to be too much for you and you’ll leave.”

“At least we can both agree on that – you’re an idiot.” You told him in a whisper. “But you’re my idiot.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, but if you ever say something like that to me again, I will withhold sex for a month.” You threatened seriously.

“Just a month?” He teased. Both of you’ve gone longer without physically touching each other when he’s been on tour.

“There’s only so long I can resist you.” You admitted, cheeks heating up a bit. “Especially when you are in my immediate vicinity.”

“Like that time you jumped me when I stepped through our door after a world tour?” He gave you a smug look.

You sighed, “Oh, not this again. I didn’t jump you.”

“Okay, fine, you didn’t jump, you leaped into my arms.” He snickered.

You pouted, “To give you a welcome home hug.”

“And remind me again, what did we do right after that hug?” He raised a brow.

“As far as I remember, you were a very willing participant.” You grumbled.

“Never said I wasn’t.” Your husband said. You glared at him.

Yoongi chuckles, the sound making you melt as he leaned closer and kissed you. You kissed him back, not hesitating. You loved being kissed by him. His tongue asked for entrance and you granted it, moaning into his mouth when he thoroughly explored your mouth with his tongue. When you pulled apart for air, Yoongi went for your neck, kissing, biting and licking wherever his lips touched, setting your skin on fire, blood roaring through your veins.

His hands moved up your bare thighs, fingers nudging the seam of your pyjama shorts.

Something occurred to you in your desire filled mind, want slowly drowning out any coherent thought.

“How’s your-” You cut yourself off as he gave a particularly hard suck on your pulse point and you knew there would be marks.

“How’s your shoulder?” You finally asked – gasping in pleasure when his teeth scraped the sensitive skin, eyes fluttering shut – the knowledge of Yoongi being in pain would be enough to douse the fire inside you.

The next moment you were on your back, eyes opening to see Yoongi looking down at you with wicked grin, a hand on each side of your head. “It’s fine. I haven’t had any pain today, you know that.”

“Just checking.” You said with a pointed look as you wrapped your arms around his waist, slipping your arms beneath his shirt. The look was to remind him of that time when he didn’t tell any of his members that he was in pain during a practice and passed out from pain.

“Yes, mom.” He rolled his eyes.

You pinched his waist with a light huff, “Fuck you.”

“Oh, trust me,” Yoongi smirked, eyes full of intent. “You will.”

the end.

#because i miss him already #min yoongi #yoongi #suga #bts suga #min yoongi x oc #min yoongi x y/n #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x reader #bts fic #bts fanfction #bts imagines #bangtan fanfic #bangtan

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shiberpostshere · 4 years ago

Text

The Kiss Thief - Park Seonghwa Social Media AU

38. Chapter Thirty Two: No, It’s Ryan Reynolds!✨

Previous Part✨ Next Part ✨

Masterlist of the AU✨

Word Count: 6.7K (Buckle up, its time for a ride)

This Chapter Contains: Giggle worthy chaos and tooth decaying fluff. (An Annoyed San too.)

It’s a regular Sunday. A quiet regular Sunday. An unusually quiet, regular Sunday that you don’t experience often as a college student.

An unusually quiet regular Sunday except for Yeri and Jongho’s loud, harmonious snores that vibrated through the lazy (almost) evening silence of the apartment while you had sneaked out like a thief bound with tinkling shackles out of the front door.

It was exactly five minutes before 5 O’clock and you knew what noise pollution would commence once the short hand stopped perfectly atop the number five.

The neighbour above starts angrily vacuuming to release their pent up frustration of the day or maybe to act as a thoughtful warning alarm to wake the other residents who might be napping above the universal napping time limit and the snarky middle aged lady beside, who begins banging pots and rattling spoons to prepare either her dinner or for a secret time travel battle she has to attend every single night to save the history for the sake of the present.

You have a generous set for neighbours.

Thankfully, you aren’t currently present in your apartment to experience the brutal murder of your ears.

Unfortunately, you’re sandwiched in between San and Wooyoung in the shared wide back seats of the bus, stuffed to the absolute brim with sweaty and jumpy people.

The serenity of the weekend ended when you willingly decided to step onto the Bus No. 7 for the following reasons:

Number One, You and Wooyoung don’t drive and San owns a motorcycle that cannot carry three people at once, not without getting an overloaded vehicle ticket by pulling a stunt like that,

Number two, you have nothing better to do on a Sunday evening other than watch Yeri and Jongho scream about the WIFI and college website because they couldn’t select the classes they wanted fast enough,

Number three, you were unable to escape from Wooyoung’s persistence but you had to get out and inhale some fresh air of the outside.

It is a secret that you had isolated yourself in the sweet ol’ bedroom (in the name of preparing for a workshop), to take a five minutes rest which gradually progressed into knotting up your bones by rolling on the bed 24/7 and temporarily disrupting the serotonin production while watching sad movies, and

Number four, San cashed out a favour from that one time he fetched a folder from your dorm and drove fifteen minutes to deliver it because your degree was on the line. Which is why, this particular evening you need to help him out with whatever he wants to do at this Garden plus Research Centre for Thesis purposes.

“The Thesis and Freebies Date”, term coined by Jung Wooyoung, free entertainment, food finder and a plus one, on Sunday 17th of May, 5:30 AM on the dot.

On top of all these reasons sat Seonghwa’s last text message like a cherry on top of a cupcake of complaints.

He sent you a picture of his americano that was loaded with ten pumps of syrup, “I’m drinking coffee😇”

What coffeeee????!!?!?!?

Everything has failed you today. The public transportation system, your emotional support boy and your unhealthy obsessive complex believing that anything above two pumps of syrup is not coffee because you cannot handle personal preferences.

“Why on earth is this bus full like it’s the last bus available to escape a fucking zombie aopcalypse. What is this ‘Bus to Busan’?” Your voice comes out with pure seething under your breath for only your friends to hear but you catch the old lady beside San narrowing her eyes at you with suspicion.

San, engrossed in scrolling through his twitter and sipping his (proper) americano is least interested about your discomfort.

“Oh I don’t know! I did suggest taking the subway instead but two idiotic people whined for five minutes straight to get on this bus.” His response is monotonous, attempting to contain himself from bursting.

The pinching statement is directed towards you and Wooyoung who grumbled about the group having to walk after getting off the subway when the bus seemed like a better option that stopped right on the street opposite of your destination.

Wooyoung’s frame shifts slightly onto your small seat as the hefty man beside him wiggles for space. “Yeah, Jesus Christ, if only I had had an epiphany about how crowded the bus was going to be before we board it.”

If only you had epiphanies.

The bus was mildly crowded when all of you had entered but became packed within the next ten minutes of collecting passengers at merely three stations.

Poor Wooyoung is scared for his life knowing he will be ironed flat by the man if the bus jumps over a speed breaker or God forbid, decides to halt abruptly. The fear is relatable because the boy standing in front will collapse right onto your already shaky lap under any abrupt movements made by the bus.

After five minutes of distracting himself, San shoves his phone in the pocket of his jeans and leans into your space to jab a finger at two of you simultaneously. “Yeah, Jesus Christ, if only my lazy ass friends knew how to walk but they left their legs in the semester break.” He accuses.

He is absolutely right.

Every student, excluding the few exceptionally productive ones, collectively lost the ability to walk unless the end goal was acquiring food, money, grades and work experience.

Wooyoung throws his hands up out of exasperation, “And you’re hundred percent sure that the subway isn’t packed?”

You nod vigorously, supporting his argument because it doesn’t lead to admitting that you’re wrong and not once you’ll acknowledge the possibility of the missed subway having much more space than this body heat microwave of a bus that you two insisted on boarding until San gave in and agreed.

“Yeah. Also, we’re accompanying you for your work, San.” You chide in to transfer the blame like a ten year old child and nudge the grouchy boy away from the seat with your right arm.

San’s left brow twitches. He is definetly holding back a snarky retort.

“Yes, yes, it’s all my fault.” He drawls on his reponse and turns his head away to ignore your presence entirely.

Apparently, it was not an unusually quiet, regular Sunday for the residents of Unit 8181 also known as the occupants of the apartment of Seonghwa and Friends who have been on the edge due to a mysterious late night incident that was not revealed to you no matter how many times you pried.

Mingi and Yeosang were sprawled together on the couch, hidden beneath a bunch of weighty duvets which did not look like it had two people sleeping underneath it until they started untangling themselves from each other.

Wooyoung was showering, apparently for almost an hour to scrub away his drowsiness as stated by San who has been extremely cranky and constantly keeping himself occupied with his phone and swishing and fixing his posh, sky blue cardigan (until you entered the kitchen and he dragged you out with him, suddenly all smiles).

Yunho was the only one who appeared somewhat himself, still in his pajamas, folding questionably large amount of laundry. He mentioned ‘monopoly game night’ but you didn’t buy that excuse.

They were engaged in constant back and forth, ‘Who Can Shut the Other Guys Up In The Most Creative Way’ contest.

Yeosang won after a house slipper flew out of his room, wheezed past your legs and landed right near the shoe rack as you stood there frozen. The aim was commendable but the action was concerning.

Other than sarcastic remarks, all of them shared swollen eyebags due to the lack of sleep.

A sleepy Mingi glared at you with his droopy eyes for thirty seconds, mumbled out, “Oh, it’s just you.”, trudged towards his room and slammed the door behind him.

The apartment floor was spotless, not one obvious clutter in sight.

Seonghwa will surely name everything he owns to them in his will once he returns in the coming week and sees the glistening state of the apartment.

It reminds you that you, too, need to take care of that one chair that holds the tower of toppling dirty clothes in your room before he sees them and gives you an earful of nagging.

A bead of cold sweat travels down the crevice of your neck.

“How much longer until we arrive?” You committ the mistake of directing the question to the volcanic mountain prepared to erupt any minute now.

The bus jostles with a screech, collectively swinging everyone forward with a painful jerk. Shared sighs and groans echo throughout the bus.

Staying put in your seat in this bus is more challenging than a one minute plank.

“I don’t know, he probably knows.” Wooyoung responds with a shrug, holding onto his dear life.

“Maybe you should walk through this sea of people and ask the bus driver himself.” San suggests with an imposed smile, causing your own lips to stretch into a false one.

“What a fantastic suggestion! I would love to use you as a human shield to push through this crowd and get to the front.” You answer, crossing your arms below your chest.

He offers you his entire irked attention.

Wooyoung’s forehead dives into the palm of his hand. He’d rather hide than let the passengers of the bus know that he is associated with the two of you.

The agitated boy rolls his eyes, lips pressing into a thin line before he launches his lecture. “Okay, you know what (y/n)---”

“Oh for goodness sake! Young man and young woman! Resume your couple’s banter at your place, don’t fight in public places.” The old lady whose patience was being tested this entire journey voices out her protest.

You’re stunned for a good moment before your heads snap towards the lady, wearing similar offended expressions.

Meanwhile, Wooyoung is holding onto his bubbling laughter. His palms having slid down from his forehead to his lips to prevent himself from laughing out loud like a maniac.

“We are not a couple!” You both answer in a hurried chorus.

After the frantic clarification, your eyes meet and the absurdity of the old lady’s comment wipes every single trace of the previous exchange.

Both of you break together into timed, soft giggles and the chain reaction pulls in Wooyoung who laughs into his hands to control the volume.

The lady shakes her head at your reaction. “Well, then, not a couple, don’t fight and let me ride to my book club meeting in peace.” She states her demand, expression indicating that she is cooking incorrect judgements about your group in her mind.

San and you offer her a quick sincere apology, suppressing the amusement derived from her assumption.

“You two in a romantic relationship? More like a disastorous pair of wannabe edgy emo and a pissed caffeinated fantasizer. Nah, totally incompatible.” Wooyoung mutters under his breath.

“He’d get rid of me in ten minutes.” You whisper your reasoning.

San feels the old lady’s eyes boring holes into the back of his head, his arm nudges yours gently, “Make that five. Okay now, zip up.” His eyes and voice both firmly plead.

“Yes sir.” You reply and shrink in your seat further to make room for Wooyoung to breathe.

They’re quite a handful duo, alright, but they’re your handful duo and they handle you as well.

After ten minutes of bumping, shoving and tossing around the entire bus like popcorns, the three of you miraculously step out in one piece.

You take a good five minutes to regain your normal pace of breathing again.

The relaxing wind carrying the gentle floral aroma from the garden calms your suffocated senses.

Ah, finally, freedom from people.

The bus was overdosed with CO2.

Your lips were zipped for most of the ride in order to avoid receiving another sneer from the old lady and making sure you don’t run out of the very last oxygen molecule present in the bus.

Wooyoung is stretching every limb of his body after being pressed in between the sandwich grill consisting of you and the giant man.

“You know what?” He pulls out a little black hair tie to control the little locks ruffling against his eyes. “Ditch me the next time I whine about not walking because that was literal hell. I am never stepping into another bus, ever again.” The determination present in his voice is almost convincing. Almost.

“You’re going to start whining when it’s time to return.” Adds San, after double checking every pocket present on his clothing.

An overwhelmingly tiring yawn falls through your lips.

“Yeah, dude, no false promises.” You inch closer towards San to show your support.

Wooyoung’s exhausted face transforms into an unamused one, “You’re shameless.”

Harsh but true.

“No, no, no, you last minute side switchers, get away from me. I am not claiming you.” Ignoring your presence, he simply walks towards the main entrance of the garden.

A sickeningly sweet smile appears on your lips. “Hey, wait, I promise, I won’t take Wooyoung’s side ever again!” You say in a singsong manner, taking wide steps to catch up by San’s side.

“Where do you think you are going?” The betrayed one gets a hold of your backpack and pulls you back with a forceful tug.

Your shoes brush harshly against the concrete pavement. He accomplishes the task of slowing you down and makes a run for San, wheezing loudly.

“Jung Wooyoung!” You cry out loud at his actions, your backpack flailing out of your arms.

He treads beside his unbothered friend, front facing you from a distance. “We need to meet the professor at the research centre anyway, keep yourself busy until then!” A wink and a cackle, then he grabs San by his shoulders and disappears inside at an astonishing speed.

Like a little kid whose ice cream has been snatched away, you stand there watching San’s waving hand and Wooyoung’s bouncy ponytail fading away.

A strong inhale and a gentle exhale, you try to calm the rapid heaving of your chest.

“Ah, whatever! They’ll text me once they’re done.” Uttering the assuring words to yourself, you fix the carelessly hanging backpack and set course to occupy yourself in the garden until they’re done with whatever they have to do at the research centre.

This is not the first time they have pulled this prank of abandoning you just for laughs and then frantically calling with the classic bait of “yo, come over at this food truck, we’re paying😏”

They throw the same bait under any circumstances and it works pure magic on any living being who lives for eating. Even Seonghwa caves in, and your willpower is -2 compared to Seonghwa’s 10+ patience.

Once you step inside the garden, you’re sure they have ditched you with good intentions as your eyes take in the lavish surroundings.

The green of nature is widespread throughout in the form of sturdy and lean trees, recently mowed grass and snipped shrubs peeking in between, all sprinkled with colourful little flowers like twinkling stars on a clear night sky. A gentle breeze whistles by within small intervals, rustling the leaves with the faintest crackling sound.

There are feeble chirps of birds, hiding in their nests to sleep for the night.

It is heaven on earth as the golden glow of the sun settles upon the scene.

The lulling fragrance of roses carried along with the wind urges you to roll on the blanket of the grass and maybe even take a nap after tiring yourself but you know you’ll be thrown out because there are watchful guards scattered around.

For once, you’re grateful that they left you behind.

You’d rather take a walk around the garden while listening to serene songs rather than awkwardly wait behind them as they converse with the said professor they’re here to meet.

I should explore a little before San gets into his Plant Geek Mode.

A major path from the main entrance splits in several small, stone tracks, like a maze to explore.

The region is vast, tranquil and maintained, no wonder a research centre lies somewhere in this arboretum.

You notice the informative display of the map, standing tall, indicating what lies in between and at the end of every track, piquing your explorer fantasy. There is a stack of small, handy maps for visitors to carry as well.

You grab one, deciding upon the center most lane with your earphones playing the enchanting tune of Like a Flowing Wind by Day6 in a low volume.

“The North Lane leads towards the green house and the research centre.” You murmur, studying the contents of the map with much concentration. “Wooyoung and San probably went that way.” You throw a quick glance behind before resuming your stroll.

The trail you’re currently walking on is the West Way, sheltered with tall towering trees and the Grand Elixir Fountain that lies at the end.

You neatly fold the brochure and tuck it safely inside your pocket, saving the next spots to visit together once you regroup.

Surprisingly, the garden doesn’t have an overflowing crowd.

There are quite a lot of people occupying the benches and seating areas, mostly couples. You notice quite a few students, assuming they are, with their laptops and notebooks, surveying or either sitting in a formation to share their findings.

Everyone is invested in themselves, in their own little world due to which the place feels quite private, snug and pleasant.

The greenery, the sounds of nature, the music and soft whispers creating one whole atmosphere of contentment.

It has been named Golden Blooms for a reason indeed. Except the Research Centre part, we’re going to ignore that for now.

Seonghwa would absolutely love this place. There is nothing not to love about this. You can sketch a million ways of spending time here together.

You don’t want to be a girlfriend like that but you’re to be a girlfriend like that.

A picnic after a long hectic week of continuous classes to unwind while spending quality time together, under a birch tree that casts a wide shadow beneath to watch the sunset while sharing the most mundane and silliest stories of your week and snacking on the collective bag you two usually pack before heading out for your Saturday Sunset Dates.

Maybe you’ll have to give up the spot due to its popular demand but it’ll be alright nonetheless. Instead, you’ll resort to taking every lane to check what lies at the end as Seonghwa’s personal playlist will be the perfect background music.

The day will end with a hearty dinner and crashing in either’s bedroom, cuddling together where he always insists on being the little spoon and you always give in.

Oh god, I went too far.

If just the thought has you feeling immensely giddy, how exhilarating would it feel to actually spend a day like that?

Back to present, (Y/N), back to present.

The uneven stone trail comes to an end as your shoes sink into the bed of the grass. Your next steps feel extremely light.

Walking on this grass is the closet one can experience how walking on a cloud feels like. You constrain yourself from removing your socks and shoes and running around on the grass like a madman--

Holy Shit.

The Grand Elixir Fountain is a masterpiece.

Rather than blindingly white, it is a comforting shade of evanesce beige. The sculptures surrounding the circumference are alluring rather than intimidating of mythical water creatures from numerous mythologies.

A water nymph settles at the heart of the fountain on a wave with water sprouting from the pot she’s embracing.

The gurgling water simmers down onto another platform shaped like a lotus, little droplets splashing on the people standing close by the edge and then gliding down from the platform into the bottom expanse to become a slow, rippling stream.

The Fountain is a high lord, you are a mere peasant. The Fountain is the moon and you’re a small star. The Fountain is queen bee and you’re a worker bee. The Fountain is a high quality gaming PC and you’re a laptop you had to buy with an acceptable graphic card because you’re a college student who is surviving.

Maybe you’re not the best with creative descriptions but it’s okay you’re a law student any way.

Creative writing is Yeosang’s forte and he worries about it plenty.

“Seonghwa can’t be here but I can send him some pictures.” Pulling out your phone, you scan the area.

An old couple are seated on a bench to the far right admiring the view, bunches of people pass by once a while either to leave or enter the area and a small group of friends are circled in a corner preoccupied within themselves.

“Okay, nothing to see here, just a college girl fangirling over a beautiful fountain.” You say it with the intent of addressing the people present but it is mostly directed towards yourself to not get embarrassed before you engage in a long photo session full of fascination over a fountain at an arboretum.

Okay, alright, let’s get this over with.

The cause of your dubiousness is Jongho.

He has pointed out several times that while taking photos you tend to get absorbed and switch into questionable positions just to score a worthy shot.

You somehow manage to capture moderate looking full shots without getting any uncanny looks from the visitors around with only one close up shot left.

The star of the fountain, the water nymph.

It’s alright. Hopefully nobody finds you getting on one knee to capture a decent picture of the fountain uncanny.

You’re just a harmless college girl who wants to text her boyfriend, excite him about your possible future dates and hunt for food while waiting for the two little devils to return and get working before it’s too late.

Gentle sprinkles splash onto your face as you move a little closer with careful steps to find the best spot. The water is enticing on this boiling day.

You hold your phone up, adjusting the angle to your liking. “Okay that’s good.”

Before you can press the capture button, a pair of hands lock around your waist, someone’s weight settling on your shoulder.

“No, shift it a little more to the right.” A voice, obscured by the earphones, speaks extremely close to your ear, sending a quivering sensation down your spine.

The first instinct is to freeze, your entire body numbs at the sudden action, heart beating at an alarming speed.

It is followed by a startling scream of having a stranger’s arms wrapped around your body. The scream pierces through the placidity of the garden, birds from the trees flying away to safety out of fright.

Finally, the adrenaline rush kicks in, your physical senses registering the situation and your reflexes activate.

The phone still connected with the earphones flies out of your hands and ears, elbows diving back to land double smacks on the intruder’s stomach to get him off your back.

The old couple look into your direction with a panicked expression and the entire group nearby jilts up and dashes towards you to investigate the source of the scream.

You turn around to inspect the trespasser who has landed flat on his butt, clutching onto his stomach as continuous groans and curses fall through his lips.

“(Y/N)! What the hell!” The obscurity long gone, you recognize the familiar voice and its owner.

Losing the energy in your legs, you fall down into a squatting position. “Seonghwa?” In a panicked state and a hesitant voice, you call his name.

“No, it’s Ryan Reynolds.” Mockingly, he whimpers, trying to regain his knocked out senses.

It is indeed your boyfriend who is currently supposed to be in Japan but is in pain because you landed two good elbow punches right on his stomach after his 4 hours of excitement at the airport and two hours of flight and it is definitely, hundred percent confirmed especially, after his eyes meet yours, full of pain and shooting imaginary daggers at you.

Seonghwa expected a surprised embrace on his return. Anything but two blows right on his abdomen.

“Park Seonghwa!” You exclaim.

“Nope, no, I am not Park Seonghwa anymore.” He states in a faltering tone.

“Miss, are you alright?” A boy from the far away friend circle interjects, stopping in front of you. “Is he bothering you?” His fingers wrap around your arms to pull you up.

His other two friends help Seonghwa but with a much constrained grab on his arms.

You look at your boyfriend being held by the two strangers and then at the boy, eyes performing a few puzzled double takes.

“Miss?” The boy reiterates his query.

You’re dumfounded, your thoughts hazy.

Collecting the remaining strength in your body, your hands fly in gestures of denial. “No, no, that’s my boyfriend.”

The boys appear skeptical. They exchange disbelieving glances.

“Are you sure? If he’s really bothering you, we can call the police right now.” One of the boys holding your boyfriend suggests with the intentions of your safety.

The frenzied senses simmer down second by second, your hand reaches out to free him from the strangers’ hold. “No, no. Thank you so much for your help but there has been an misunderstanding, that’s all.”

The boys release him and you replace their hold by linking his arm.

“He is really my boyfriend. I was just surprised.” You state with complete assurance.

“It’s also my fault for creeping up behind her. Thank you for watching out. We’re sorry for the disturbance.” Seonghwa takes the cue and bows down a little to offer a sincere apology.

His other hand rests atop your bound one. Your gaze stays taut on him, following his actions to apologize as well.

The boys notice your relaxed figure beside him. “Ah alright, so it was a misunderstanding.”

You nod frantically. “Yes, yes, it was. We’re sorry.” You say politely.

Calculating the situation, the boys exchange final greetings before trusting your relationship and leave you two with a, ‘Be careful with your surprises!’

The surroundings stop still until Seonghwa unlinks your arms to intertwine your fingers instead and bends down to pick up your phone.

“Should we sit somewhere and talk?” He suggests in a composed tone.

“Oh, right, yes.” You answer, mentally occupied collecting the dispersed bits of your comprehension grip.

You two settle on the broad bench, previously occupied by the old couple who left after the ruckus, facing each other.

“Are you okay? Does it hurt?” You search for his eyes that meet yours in a span of millisecond after the raised enquiry.

Your fingers contract and expand with hesitancy near his abdomen where you, or more accurately, your reflexes stroke him a blow. Eyes fluctuate up and down, from his face to the injured area, teeth abusing the lower lip with worry.

His hands catch and close around your awkward ones, “It hurts but I am fine. It might be bruised but it’ll be gone with time.”

You look at him, face full of regret, “Seonghwa, I am so sorry.”

“It’s alright, (Y/N).” He says with the most assuring look that there is in this world, “I mean it.”

You were worried that he might be mad about the commotion but him unlinking your arms in order to hold your hand was an indication enough that he wasn’t.

His anger is often intelligible. He needs the time to stay mad, cool down and talks only when he is ready. The time creates an emotional distance and that distance is unbearable until his heart is ready to resolve.

He doesn’t hold petty grudges. He certainly forgives but he doesn’t forget. Instead, he draws the line in the relationship to grow apart naturally.

You happened to experience it once when he was conversing with a senior who had given him a hard time and oh boy, the line he drew was fiery and bone chilling cold at the same time.

“So, that was definitely not what I expected after I decided to surprise you.” He confesses, his eyes mellow, “I should’ve listened to Hongjoong when he said that the idea is too sappy.”

While he speaks, you’re occupied with staring at him like a hawk with bulbous eyes.

“What happened?” He prompts you to speak, a fond smile on his lips. “Cat got your tongue?” His fingers fix the disheveled hair resting on your forehead.

His eyes hold such raw warmth while he merely tucks little strands behind your ears that you fail to realize you have tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Hey, why are you crying?” His expression shifts into a concerned one. “What happened?” He probes further.

Before you register your actions, your hand is flying to land a soft blow on his shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me you were returning today!”

Maybe the volcanic eruption that was swirling inside San somehow descended into you. The difference is, his was motivated by rage and yours might be motivated by mortification.

He retrieves his hand to hold the area you’re attacking, gaping as he rubs the sore spot.

“Why are you hitting me!” His expression is muddled.

Seonghwa expected a surprised embrace on his return. Anything but you hitting him after he attempts to calm you down as his plan of surprise fails worse than the time he had failed history in sixth grade.

Your hand reaches out to land another gentle smack. “What are you! A freaking saint! Why didn’t you tell me!”

Even you are not aware why the outlet chosen by your feelings is hitting your loving and caring boyfriend who planned such a great surprise that you managed to ruin by knocking him straight into the abdomen with your pointy elbows.

“Wait, what--” Your words only further deepen his confusion.

The next smack or rather love tap, as per your definition, doesn’t get through as his hands are quick to catch yours by the wrists.

“Why are you hitting me babe?” He tilts his head to the side. “You’re hitting me because I am nice?” He lifts his right brow. “What, a saint?” A playful smile lingers on his lips.

The audacity of this man to act coy with you when you are full of all sorts of emotions whirling within you like a raging tornado. The audacity of this perfectly, perfect man!

With your slightly puffy eyes and tears stained cheek, you profess. “I am embarrassed okay! I am really embarrassed, I screamed so----”

A tch sound comes from him, followed by a, “Idiot.”

He pulls you into him through the hold he has on your wrists, your chest colliding with his. His arms wrap around your waist in a secure manner, head resting sideways onto the comfort of your shoulder that he dearly missed.

You melt like an ice cream on a hot day under his touch, taking no time to find content in his embrace, face nestling into his warm neck.

“Don’t be embarrassed.” He removes one hand from your waist to offer comforting caresses on the back of your head. “I don’t know what I expected your reaction to be. Honestly, this particular one didn’t even cross my mind.”

You lift your head from his neck but he quickly returns it down again.

“I didn’t expect you to appear in front of me a week before your actual arrival either.” You speak in a muffled voice.

He pauses his stroking for a second, “I knew you were clueless but I didn’t know you were this clueless.”

“Excuse me!” You shuffle in his hold but he has you latched onto him.

He nestles further into your hold, almost pulling you onto his lap out of habit.

“Seonghwa!” Palms pressing against his chest, you try to scuffle away and receive a disgruntled noise from him.

Having performed his action only halfway through, your right leg sits on top of his left thigh and you leave it there to dangle idly.

“Dude, we’re in a public place.” You remind him, placing a sneaky little peck on his neck.

It’s the courage after announcing you’re an idiot to the entire world.

He is astounded by your actions but definitely not as much as you are.

Seonghwa expected a surprised embrace on his return. Anything but you mentioning that you’re in public and then proceeding to plant the softest kiss on his neck, not that he minds the latter.

“Wise words coming from you in a public place.” His thumbs trace circles on your collar bones, voice adding an extra emphasis to the ‘public’.

He squeezes you tightly and moves you in his hold like you’re his own personal teddy bear causing laughter to escape from your lips.

“Giving you a basic hug after you come back after almost a month and a half?” You declare like you have performed some high and mighty act, “No, that is not enough to express my excitement, I had to smash out my love on you, babe.”

His face dawns an unimpressed look. “Yup, I made a mistake coming home.”

Your own words cause your face to scrunch up with cringe. “Yeah, that was too much, don’t talk about this in front of anyone, ever again.”

You missed him. God, you missed him so much.

His long hair is intact, not a single strand has been snipped. He looks as stunning as you imagined him to be. His navy blue coat may have been washed with a different detergent than the one you are familiar with but the earthy smell of his regular perfume is present.

The only new additions on him that you can notice right away is the blinding glow on his sleep deprived face and the abstract patterned scarf wrapped neatly around his neck.

“I missed you.” You wish to say it as softly as possible but you end up blurting out the words.

He smiles with twinkles in his eyes. “I know, idiot. I missed you too.”

You rest your palms on his cheeks and press them hard, lips protruding out in a pout. Pulling him in, you offer him a brief peck.

A long one is saved for later when in private.

The heat on his cheeks is an evidence that he is taken aback by your bold actions.

“First a kiss on the neck and now a long peck?” He smirks, eyebrows dancing up and down. “You’ve become quite gutsy within a month and a half huh?”

You fawn, “and you’re still carrying your mischievous habits with you! I was praying for you to leave them behind during your vacation. Did you achieve nothing?”

“Come here you!” His hand clasps behind your neck but this time he connects his lips to the side of your forehead to plant the deepest kiss.

You shriek as the prolonged peck soon transitions into pillowy lips peppering feathery kisses on every little endearing spot he discovers to shower his love.

Unable to suppress your delight, subdued giggles bubble out of you.

The delight of having him by your side again is indescribable. The current state of happiness you’re feeling is indescribable.

You feel his hovering lips expanding into a smile, foreheads faintly clashing together as you two laugh your heart out.

There are tears forming in your eyes but this time due to happiness rather than humiliation.

Your eyes catch the sun dipping below the horizon, shooting colourful rays as it bids goodbye for the day. “Seonghwa, look, the sunset, it’s so beautiful.” You note while he pulls you into him sideways.

He hums, turning around to admire the view, “Oh wow, that’s......beautiful.”

Time slows down just for the sun to submerge into the horizon with its glory. The orange, pink, purples and blues of the sky press mute on the world for the briefest interval.

He ruffles your hair, pulling you out of a trance, “And that’s our cue to leave.”

It takes special effort to abandon his comforting hold and get back up on your two feet.

The disappointment lasts a mere second as his fingers quickly interlace with yours. “Where to next?” He asks.

He takes slow steps. You stick close by, half of your body weight leaning into him but he doesn’t seem to mind.

You consider your choices for a moment, the grin ever present on your lips, “How about we take a walk and then drive to the river side? I heard there will be star gazing event later at night.”

He looks at you impressively with a questioning smile. “Oh really, who told you that?” A gentle gleam of fondness floats in his eyes.

His heart is swelling with love, your presence is comfortable.

You channel your best know-it-all face, “Oh, you know, Wooyoung, San and I were planning to--”

The sentence stops midway as you remember, Wooyoung and San!

Your movements halt, “Wait, Wooyoung and San!”

He cracks up at your delayed realization.

“They’ll be fine.” His fingers offer a gentle flick on your forehead, attempting to tap some sense into it, “Unless, you know, you want them to continuously comment during our date about how my arrival disrupted their last night’s sleep.” He reaches out for his pocket to pull out his phone but you’re quick to prevent the said action.

“No, no, no, no.” Your reaction amuses him further. “That’s not what I meant. I am glad they ditched me, goodness, never been so glad that someone left me behind, swear to god.” The flurry of words scatter everywhere but the intended meaning has been received by him.

“And what else do you have planned for the night?” He asks, walking straight, exaggerating the breadth of his shoulders.

“My fantastic company, Seonghwa, what else do you need?” In a wounded voice, you question.

He shakes his head.

“No?”

“No.”

“Fine, tonight’s dinner is on me, no budget. What do you want to eat?” You present your best offer in the most sugar coated tone.

His jaw drops in a dramatic fashion you’ve never witnessed in your life, “That’s it? Woman, I flew in today to surprise you today and that’s it?”

You stand on your tiptoes to whisper a special spell in his ear. “Who said that would be it?”

The rasp in your voice has goosebumps rising on his skin.

“What do you mean?” He stares down, eyes wide.

“Hey, by the way, how did you know I was near the fountain?” You quickly change the subject, your thoughts running wild and heart ready to pounce out to run a hundred mile marathon.

“What do you mean?” He repeats, eager to receive an answer.

His innocent smile has been replaced by a devilish smirk.

His constant questioning and hopeful gape has you regretting your previous words, causing warmth to spread on your face.

Flustered, you recite your question for the second time, “Tell me, how did you know?”

“It was a guess. I haven’t forgotten about your pigeon feeding adventures near the mall fountain” His answer is concise, to the point and hurried. “Now, tell me, what do you mean?”

He finishes the topic within a few seconds, arm nudging persistently against the side of your stomach.

This man. Oh god, this man.

“You have a great memory! You remember everything!” The fake enthusiasm and flustered laughter that is evident in your answer has him laughing. “Oh, look, we’re here!” You announce, feeling grateful once you spot the main exit getting closer with every step.

“What did you mean?” He takes quick steps to stand in front of you, his hand leaving yours.

“Seonghwa! Stop it, don’t get back on your teasing shenanigans so quickly, give it a day.” You say as casually as possible, stepping aside to continue on your way. “I’ve embarrassed myself and you quite enough for today.”

Seonghwa slings his arm around your shoulder from behind, “Yeah, alright, we’ll see about that later.” He mimics your casual tenure. “I guess.” He adds, hinting at your suggestive statement.

You nod in agreement, appearing calm and cool, “Yeah, I guess, we will.”

“You little tease.” His free hand gives your left cheek a little squeeze, leaving a light aching.

You stumble a little on your way out of the garden, “If I am a tease that makes you the devil that you truly are.”

“I agree, I am a beast.” He really, actually, dares to say that with his whole chest, out loud.

“Yeah, sure, little baby.” Your fingers mockingly stroke his chin with a pout

He chuckles, changing his position to properly stand by your side. “Enough of that now, let’s go, I am starving.”

“Yup, let’s go, tender beast.” You imitate his own words on him.

“No, seriously, stop that.” He declares sternly.

You do a motion of zipping your lips, holding your free hand up in surrender.

Oh, how the tables have been turning constantly today. You can now understand why Seonghwa never gets off your back and it looks like you will not be getting off his tonight.

Metaphorically and literally.

Meanwhile, Woosan

San, who has been talking with the professor for almost thirty minutes now: It was pleasure meeting up with you Sir

Wooyoung, releasing a sigh of relief beside his friend because he didn’t understand a single word that was exchanged, internally: Finally

Suddenly, San: Oh btw sir I had another question

Wooyoung, ready to create a rampage right there and then, grabbing a chair to smash it on the ground: OH MY FREAKING GOD DAMNIT CHOI SAN YOU---

🌸

A/N: OH MY GOD I CAN FINALLY POST THIS, I CAN FINALLY BREATHE EASY

I started writing this last Saturday and it went through so many drafts and versions, getting cut down to this one. It took me a week mostly due to other commitments. I edited this once and I am sure it still has teeny tiny mistakes but please look past that for now. I will correct it whenever time grants me.

Also, I would really love to know what you think about this chapter! Please let me know, I would really appreciate that 🥺🥺🥺💕

I know it has been a long time since the last update but I reposted the masterlist with the final update schedule and it will update and end accordingly as per that.

(Also the woosan scene is a little exaggeration, they had a rough night, as you will see in the bonus)

🌸 Taglist:

@enigmaticsal @stardusthyuck @missiopk @preets-kpop-world @sanisms @jiyeons-closet @hongjoongsnoona @veeeenus4 @mochibabycakes @vhschs @jaeminbluee @vantclavs @f-iyan @staywritten @yellow-wxve @uppiespuppy @uppiespuppy @mingiflower @multiangell @quicklystickystarlight @kunhye @nekee-lilac02 @peachyprincessminki @hidden-wildflowers @raysanshine @skzpleasestay @tearvantae

🌸 Unable to tag: @mingiibabiee @dreamie-deonghwa @9songbird19 @retrofuture-ism @aratrikade

🌸

Please do not repost, modify or claim this work as yours.

#ateez #ateez social media au #ateez fake texts #ateez text au #ateez fluff #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez scenario #ateez au #ateez sm #ateez social au #park seonghwa #kim hongjoong #jung yunho #kang yeosang #choi san #song mingi #jung wooyoung #choi jongho

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ruzek-halstead · 4 years ago

Note

Hey Marcia 💛 Neighbour AU with an awful first meeting for Juke? (More awkward than angsty? 😂)

oooh, this one got me thinking. but there’s always been a prompt i’ve wanted to write about but just never did, but this is kind of the perfect scenario for it. so, this started going a certain direction, and just be warned, luke’s ‘dumbass’ moment is actually my dumbass moment bc i didn’t realize, so whatever, i just added it all, oops. it’s been a long day. also, if i had more time, i would totally extend this and fix the dialogue at the end but OH WELL, IT’S BEEN A LONG DAY

julie was a relatively light sleeper. ever since she started university, late nights had become the norm, and along with that, the ability to sleep soundlessly through the night disappeared.

so when she heard some strange noises coming from the living room, her senses were immediately on alert and she couldn’t continue sleeping even if she wanted to. they sounded like rustling noises, something she could probably dismiss, but then there was an obvious loud bang and julie flinched out of bed. did she want to be the stupid girl in horror movies who checked out the loud noise and them BAM, murdered?

yes. yes, she did.

she grabbed the closest thing she could to use as a weapon. it ended up being a hairdryer and she almost laughed at how horror-movie-esque this all seemed, but she heard a loud grunt and laughing was no longer on her mind. it could be argued that from this moment on, julie blacked out and adrenaline caused her body to move and attack the complete stranger on the floor of her living room.

she nailed him a few times with the hairdryer, only ceasing when he cried out in pain and held his arms up to shield his face.

“what the fuck?”

julie stopped for a moment, absolutely floored that whoever decided to break into her apartment, had the audacity to ask her that question.

“what do you mean what the fuck?” julie shouted back at him, holding the dryer protectively in front of her. the entire situation truly reminded her of rapunzel and her trusty frying pan. “what the hell are you doing in my apartment?”

he was breathing hard, leaning up against the couch as he cradled his arm in pain. he was young, shaggy brown hair lined with sweat and green eyes that pierced through her, even with the darkness. he didn’t look like your typical burglar, dressed in simple black jeans (with a chain???) and a sleeveless tank top.

“so, this might not have been my smartest idea.”

julie let out a deep breath; her murder radar went down significantly. “you think? what the hell, dude? i thought you were going to kill me.”

he eyed her dryer. “with that hairdryer? no chance.”

at his obvious staring, julie was suddenly aware of her nearly indecent sleep shorts and oversized t-shirt. “the fact that i have to ask you again, why the hell you are in my apartment is alarming.”

“right, sorry,” he shook his head. “so, i just moved in next door. uh, nice to meet you.”

julie merely blinked. “you’re my new neighbour?”

“yeah,” he had the decency to look sheepish. “we only have one key right now, need to go make more copies, and my moron roommates didn’t leave me the key because they thought i’d lose it.”

julie listened quietly.

“but they’re clearly just as dumb as i am because they just hopped on a flight back home and took the key with them, and of course i didn’t even fucking notice.” he seemed annoyed, and julie found it absolutely hilarious he still hadn’t connected the dots.

so, she laughed. it unnerved him.

“they took your only key?” she asked through a mouthful of laughter.

he nodded his head apprehensively, narrowing his eyes slightly. “yeah, i just said that.”

“can i just ask how you thought breaking into my apartment would help you?”

he furrowed his brows together, as if it was obvious. “well, now that i’m in, i can just go next door and get into my apartment.”

“yeah?” julie teased. “with what key?”

suddenly, it all hit him at once and he had never blushed so hard in his life.

“oh my god,” he muttered in mortification. “i’m such a dumbass.”

“i don’t know you well enough to agree, but i feel like this entire experience is enough that i can’t disagree.”

all he could do was laugh, and silently think about where the hell he was going to sleep tonight. but julie took pity on him (plus, they were going to be neighbours, so she may as well start getting friendly now).

“i’ll tell you what,” she started, capturing his attention. “you can sleep on my couch until you talk to the landlord tomorrow.”

he blinked, scrambling to his feet. he towered over julie, but he had never looked more approachable. “wait, really? even though i just committed a felony?”

“i’m trusting like that,” julie threw him a wink. she walked over to her linen closet to grab some blankets. “what’s your name, by the way? i’m julie.”

when she turned back to hand him the blankets, he looked more awkward than ever. “i’m luke. sorry, i’m just feeling like a total idiot right now.”

“it’s okay,” julie shrugged. she pushed the blankets into his hands and headed back to her bedroom. “it’ll be a good story to tell, that’s for sure. goodnight, luke.”

luke was left standing there, in his new neighbours living room. if it was any other situation, he would have busted out his charming smile and flirted the hell out of julie because she was so gorgeous, but instead, he just acted like his usual dumbass self and broke into her apartment.

at least she knew what she was getting into from the beginning, and somehow, she still wanted him around.

lmao, i can’t believe i didn’t realize luke losing his key and breaking into julie’s apartment does not MAKE ANY RELEVANT SENSE. but hey, what a meet cute.

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #jatp fanworks appreciation week #thirsty thursday #juke #juke au

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bondsmagii · 4 years ago

Note

Regarding what was lying in mom's bed three months after she had passed.

ARCHIVIST

Statement of Bonnie Jennings, regarding a discovery made in her mother’s bed three months after her mother’s death. Original statement given May 18, 2009. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

Statement begins.

ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT)

Mum and I… we weren’t close. That’s probably an understatement. I suppose the correct word for it is that we were estranged, but that’s always seemed far too gentle for my liking. If I’m being honest, Mum and I hated one another. I know you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but my mother was a difficult woman to get along with. She drove everybody away in the end, but not even in the tragic, oh, she can’t help it kind of way. No, she knew exactly what she was doing. She revelled in it, I think. Well, I know she did. I’m not sure what she got out of it, but she liked to… to hurt people, I guess. She got a kick out of it. She was never quick about it, never in-your-face, because that wasn’t fun for her. She was so insidious. She would draw it out, let it take its time, ensure you never had enough to directly confront her about it. She never had a kind word for anyone or anything, and especially not for me. You know, I absolutely hate it, because whenever I mention that my mother and I didn’t talk much people always assume it’s because of well, you know. Somebody like that, you don’t expect them to be accepting of these kinds of things, do you? They always assume I had the classic story of coming out and being booting into the street, but no. That’s just a tragic story that gets parcelled up and delivered out as sad little stories meant to tell everyone how brave we are, and how much we endure, and it always ends with a reconciliation or with us getting back on our feet, stronger for it. Really, that’s not what happens most often. Of course it still does, and I’m not denying that, but I think people need to talk more about the more subtle kind of dismissal we might face. When I told Mum I was trans, all she said was “alright”. That’s it. Just the one word. She didn’t want to know anything more about it, she didn’t want to ask what it meant. She was completely disinterested, but not even in the way that some parents might be – struggling to deal with the fact that they’ve lost a child or whatever crap they come out with. I’m charitable about it – I know it is a shock. I have a lot of trans friends with good relationships with their parents who reported that their parents did need some time just to get used to the idea, but I think that’s normal. When somebody has an idea of you and you tell them they’re wrong, and that you were never that person, it’s a shock. But Mum was so self-centred, so absorbed in her own existence, that she really didn’t care about anything or anyone else. It didn’t matter that her son was actually her daughter. It didn’t centre on her, so who cares? It was infuriating, because on the surface she looked like a model mother. She began using the correct name and pronouns immediately and didn’t slip up once. She advised me on clothing and hair and makeup and gave me beauty tips. She looked so supportive, but really it was just her controlling criticism repackaged. I think, in a sick way, she loved having a daughter. Now she was the expert, as the older woman, and she could boss me around and condescend to me even more. It was an absolute nightmare, but I’m not here to talk smack about my mum – even though I could quite happily do so all day. No, this is about what happened after she was dead and gone. You hear that? Dead. She’s dead, and she’s still causing me problems.

I hadn’t spoken to Mum for over a year when she passed. She never even told me she was sick. None of my business, I guess. It was just Mum and me growing up, and there was no extended family. As I said, Mum drove everyone away in the end. There was absolutely nobody there at all, and that’s why her body rotted in her house for months before anyone found her. She died in the winter, and it was so cold her body basically froze – she never left the heating on a timer, always turned it on manually so she could have more control over the cost. It wasn’t until the weather started getting warmer that neighbours noticed all the flies on the window, realised they hadn’t seen Mum for a while. They called the police, the police broke in, and they found the putrid mess that used to be my mother. Pretty messed up, right? Somehow I was still her emergency contact, because I guess there was nobody else, and so the police called me and broke the news and I was shocked but not really that upset. I mean, that sounds bad, but she’s been dead to me for some time, you know? Really it was sort of nice to know she was actually dead, because grieving for a living person – especially a person you never really had – is a very complicated business. Now she was dead, I thought I could finally just close that chapter. Of course it’s never that easy.

As her next of kin, I was responsible for her… estate, I suppose. That sounds so grand considering it was just a small semi-detached in rural Lincolnshire, but little though it was, it was mine. She never made a will, as I found out when I expressed surprise she’d left me anything at all. She hadn’t actually bothered, so by default it had all gone to me. I was living in Peterborough at the time, and Mum’s house was only in Spalding, so we didn’t live that far apart at all. It didn’t take long for my then-boyfriend and I to get in the car and head down there to see what all we needed to do. I wasn’t interested in keeping the house for myself, because why would I want it? Not to mention Henry and I had been considering buying a place together – later, when he proposed to me, he confessed he had been planning to pop the question that weekend but then they had to go and find my mother’s corpse, which was kind of funny in a morbid way – so we figured if we could sell the place it might be good money to put towards our own first house. Of course, there was the small matter of trying to sell a house where somebody had died, but I figured it wouldn’t be that hard. It wasn’t a brutal murder or anything like that. If we could clean the place up nicely, I didn’t think it would matter too much.

Well, they hadn’t exactly told us how bad it was going to be. Did you know that the family are in charge of cleaning up a house after a death? I didn’t. I thought that would be something that would be covered, you know? By who I’m not sure, but I didn’t think it would be down to family members to scrub up blood and worse from the carpets or the walls or whatever. I at least thought the police would warn us, and maybe it just slipped their mind, but whatever happened or didn’t happen ended up with Henry and I walking into that house not knowing what to expect at all.

We soon got the idea. The stench was abysmal, even just walking up the garden path. Of course, the body itself had been taken care of, but a body that’s been laying in the house for three months leaves behind a lot of evidence, even if it did spend most of that time mostly frozen. Mum’s bedroom was just… it was a nightmare. Words cannot describe the stretch. Sweet and sticky and sickly; you can taste it more than you can smell it. Cloying. That’s the word that came to my mind. I always thought it was a stupid word, but in that moment I understood exactly what it meant. Cloying. I could feel it in my throat and in my nose, thick and viscous, like having a cold and needing to cough up phlegm. Thank God I hadn’t had anything to eat or I would have thrown up. Poor Henry wasn’t so lucky – though he just about made it to the bathroom. I suppose I’m just morbidly curious, because despite the stench I walked right in there, holding my cardigan over my nose. The covers were pulled right back from the bed and there was this incredible stain on the mattress, almost like a bruise in the way it faded into different colours and shades. Sort of like a bruise meeting a patch of rusted iron, black and deep red and dark purple and then lighter shades of brown and grey, all in the vague outline of a prone body at the darkest parts, spreading out like some messed up halo as it grew lighter. It was absolutely vile, but fascinating in its own way. At the very least, she had done us the favour of dying in the bed rather than on the floor, because the carpet would have been a lost cause. With this, I reckoned we could throw out the bed and everything on it, air the room out, and it would be good as new.

I needed a little fresh air myself, so I opened the windows wide and then went to see if Henry was alright. He was still retching pretty badly, so I snooped around the spare room a bit – nothing much to see, if I’m honest – and then decided to wait for him in the back garden, where I’d be able to take advantage of the breeze. I was sure I could smell that heavy stench clinging to my hair, and do you know for weeks afterwards I still thought I could smell it? It doesn’t come out, no matter how much you wash it. Anyway, I obviously glanced into Mum’s room on my way out, and immediately I saw something was wrong. The covers were all back on her bed.

Now, I know for a fact they weren’t there before, because I saw the big stain on the mattress. Now the covers were back in place, not tucked in or even overly neat, but definitely covering the bed and tossed around like somebody was curled up under them, asleep. Strangely I didn’t feel scared or even very confused. I kind of… stood there for a moment, wondering how I was seeing what I was seeing, and then quite quickly I just accepted that I was seeing it and there was nothing I could do about that, so I decided to check it out. It’s not something I would ordinarily do, I don’t think – I’m curious, but I’m not touch a bed covered in decomposing body juices curious – but for some reason I just walked in there and pulled back the covers. One fluid movement, like a mother trying to get her teenager up for school. I just yanked it back from the top, near the pillows, and then I finally felt the horror that should have come much sooner.

It was… maggots, obviously. They were everywhere, writhing around in a huge pile, twisting their way over the stain and out of the bedsheets and even crawling up my arm, where I was still holding the covers. I screamed and shook my arm frantically, sending maggots flying in all directions, and immediately they began making their way back to the mass on the bed. It was like there was some kind of gravitational pull dragging them back to that pile of wriggling, twitching creatures, and as I watched I became convinced there was some kind of method to their movements. They were arranging themselves, forming into a shape, and I only dragged my eyes away when Henry appeared in the doorway, looking alarmed. I realised then that I’d screamed, and I tried to play it down – in that moment I wasn’t overly surprised, now I’d had a second to think about it, because yeah, of course there are maggots. They like dead bodies, right? I guessed that after the body was removed there were probably a ton of them in the mattress itself that had wriggled up in search of food, though thinking about it again, I didn’t recall seeing any holes in the cover sheet or anything. I tried to calm down, but something drew my eyes back to the maggots – I think it was the way Henry was just staring at the bed, horrified in a way I’ve never seen before – and I saw that the maggots had… how do I even describe this?

They had sat up. They were sitting, and they were in the vague shape of a person. I could see a head, shoulders, the arms limply by the sides. There was a torso that joined on to the bend of hips and legs stretched out in front, over the bed, the feet disappearing into the covers that were still left. I could see the slight rise in the covers where the feet were. The maggots were still moving around, so the shape was constantly shifting, but I could distinctly see details beginning to emerge. Hair. The sunken pits where eyes should be. A gaping mouth that was opening and closing, a black void behind it, as though the figure was trying to say something. And it was. I could hear this strange voice, like an exhale of air, a voice that was barely there at all – but I knew it was saying my name. Bonnie. Bonnie. I could hear it as clearly as anything. In that moment, it was the loudest thing in the room.

I stumbled backwards, but it was as far as I could go. I was frozen, even as I watched the figure swing itself out of bed and get to unsteady feet. It stumbled towards me like a drunk, wheezing deep in its throat, and I thought it sounded like a laugh. I’m not even saying that with hindsight – it was laughing at me. It was my mother’s laugh, and in that moment I knew she was doing this. I mean, I don’t know if she was, because how could she? But in that moment I thought I knew she was doing it, anyway, and I was so angry at her. I was so damn mad at her, for dying in such a horrible way and leaving me with the mess, for all the stuff she’d pulled on me growing up, for every single thing she had done to me, the big things and the petty things, and now this! She couldn’t even die properly, she had to come back and terrify me and traumatise me and ruin everything! I screamed again, but this time it was just pure, animalistic rage – I’ve never heard myself make such a sound. I looked around and I saw the chair sitting in front of the mirror and I picked it up by the back and chucked it into the air, catching it by the back legs and swinging it at the maggot figure with everything I had. I don’t even know what good I thought it would do, because it was just maggots, but the figure disintegrated around the torso and the maggots scattered to the floor. The figure half-collapsed, just a pair of legs wobbling towards me, and I let out this manic laugh before I saw the maggots were already regrouping. Finally I gathered some of my senses and I turned for the door, yelling at Henry to run. He didn’t need telling twice. We both sprinted down the hall and I think we both jumped clean down the entire set of stairs – or it at least felt like that. We ran out into the street and I pulled my cardigan off and started jumping on it, because I was sure I could feel all those maggots crawling on me. Henry finally grabbed me and pulled me away, and we got into the car and drove off. Left the cardigan right there on the street.

We didn’t really discuss what had happened. I hired a cleaning company that specialised in that kind of clean-up, and they never reported any problems. The house was cleaned up good as new, aired out, all Mum’s stuff either sold or thrown away. Eventually the house sold too, even if it did take a little longer than I’d like. Henry and I got married, managed to buy our first house, and while we’ve mentioned it vaguely a few times we’ve still not really talked about it. I think we both probably mutually agreed that we must have been seeing things, and to be honest I let myself believe that for a while. I mean, there’s no way, right? But recently it’s just been bugging me, and I’ve been dreaming about it. It’s just been on my mind, and I can’t pretend that I didn’t see what I saw any longer. I don’t know if this will be of any use to you, or even if it’s the kind of thing that you go in for, but I thought I would write it down nevertheless. I do feel a little better now, weirdly. I thought reliving it all would make me feel worse, but I’m not going to complain.

ARCHIVIST

Statement ends.

Well. That certainly makes me wish I hadn’t eaten lunch before recording. It all seems mostly standard up until the sentient maggot hivemind, and if it had just been Mrs Jennings present I would say it’s possible she might have been mistaken. It’s a fairly specific thing to see, but given the circumstances and the inherent revulsion most people experience when seeing that many maggots at once, I wouldn’t be entirely surprised if the stress of the situation resulted in Mrs Jennings believing she saw something unusual. There is, however, one more thing included with this statement – a brief affirmation from Mr Jennings, which, while he chose not to go into detail, does affirm that everything in Mrs Jennings’ statement is true to what he himself witnessed. Of course, he wasn’t present with his wife for the entirety of the time period the statement covers, but he was there at the most important part. One person having such a highly specific hallucination would be a stretch, but two people experiencing the exact same highly specific hallucination is even less likely.

Tim contacted the current residents of the house that used to belong to Mrs Jennings’ mother, but they reported nothing at all unusual in the time they had been living there. They were aware of the fact a death had occurred in the house – just as well, really, as Tim was quite happy to tell them about it – but didn’t seem overly bothered. In fact, Tim reported that they seemed almost disappointed that the house hadn’t come with a resident ghost, though looking at Mrs Jennings’ description of her mother, I’m not entirely sure that’s the kind of ghost they would want to have to house share with.

Tim also managed to get in contact with John Atchieson, owner and operator of Atchieson Cleaning Solutions, a company based in Peterborough that, alongside general domestic and commercial cleaning jobs, also specialises in cleaning up biohazardous materials – crime scenes, accident scenes, natural deaths. The case of Mrs Jennings’ mother was found in their records, and Mr Atchieson could remember nothing unusual about it. In a rare stroke of luck, the employee assigned to oversee the clean up at the house was Mr Atchieson’s son, also named John; Mr Atchieson Senior was able to contact him and ask if he remembered anything specific from the site himself, but apparently there was nothing remarkable about the job at all – just a standard decomposition job, hauling away the hazardous materials and cleaning the room with heavy chemicals to try to get rid of the smell. Mr Atchieson Junior helped remove the mattress himself, and reported no maggots of any kind.

Given the lack of physical evidence I would like to claim that there is no basis to this statement, but considering the fact there are two witnesses and this wouldn’t be the first time that a being apparently made of some kind of larvae or insect has been observed wandering about, I’m more inclined to worry about where Mrs Jennings’ mother may have gone, if she was no longer in her bedroom.

End recording.

#tma #statement prompts #my writing #fakements #long post #anon #asks

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minchen0897 · 4 years ago

Text

Cold (derogatory) and a Cat

My Secret Santa entry from the Discord Server for @madecunningly I hope you like it!!! Happy holidays!!

Starring: Quinlan Vos, a Cold planet, and Maul

Quinlan had been on this planet for about three Coruscant standard weeks, trying to look into a lead on one or several of the Sith – because apparently the Rule of Two had been put into a dumpster and then used as an illegal bonfire – and he was seriously considering a vacation on Tatooine.

Or to set himself on fire.

Forget the sand or the pain or whatever, at least it would be warm.

He was bundled in five layers of warm clothes, one of the layers being actual thermals, and he still was shivering all day long. Even while he used every trick in the book to keep warm.

(Admittedly, rubbing his hands did not help much when he was wearing thick gloves to protect them.)

He even put on a local cream to keep his face from freezing, but it was still cold.

Yesterday he had very nearly broken a good hand-width of his dreadlocks off, because there had been an accident with a fluid that he does not want to talk about and had indeed forgotten about in the chase that followed, until he had to return to his humble temporary abode for the night to avoid freezing to death. His hair had clinked like icicles clacking against each other when he had moved his head a bit too fast (he thought he had heard something, which probably was also his frozen hair), and curious where the sound came from repeated the motion, nearly breaking off his hair.

Not that it would have mattered much, it’s just hair, but the point he was trying to make is that it was too kriffin cold.

(He also objected to sleeves on a deep personal level, so this really wasn’t his preferred weather, but alas, a Jedi went where a Jedi must go.)

He couldn’t even use the Force to warm himself up, for several reasons: he was on the trail of someone potentially connected to the Sith or a Sith themself, so extreme caution was advised – nobody wants the Sith to go further into hiding then they already were. So low profile it was, and someone on this warmth-forsaken planet not freezing their shebs off was very suspicious. Even the natives were shivering. He also was still feeling the aftereffects of a concussion he had gotten in an unfortunate accident he did not want to go into any further.

It was nothing too bad but trying more finicky things with the Force did not make his head happy.

(People who got concussions often apparently were prone to headaches and migraines. Sometimes Quinlan really, honestly had a deep worry for Obi-wan. That man could take care of himself – although he actually seemed to suck at it – had an uncanny ability to survive everything the galaxy threw at him, but…still.)

In any case, to keep the spiral of mental commentary from spinning out of control, it was fucking cold, Quinlan did not like that, and he was so far not getting anywhere with his supposed lead.

He took a deep breath – or as deep as he could without feeling his lungs were freezing, even while breathing through a scarf and all – and carefully released his frustration and discontent into the Force. They would not help and rather cloud his decisions, anyway.

Somewhere in the distance Quinlan could hear people singing. As far as he knew it was a way to celebrate together before the White Wall hit and everyone would be confined to their homes for at least a week. Historically, before technology got better, it was one last big party before they would leave the other members of their community to whatever the White Wall had held in stock for them. Sort of like one last hurrah before potentially facing down the end. Or at the very least facing separation for a while without means of checking in with their loved ones – as was usual, those who were obscenely rich and could afford the according technology were the exception to this.

The White Wall was not a snowstorm per se, although unsuspecting strangers tended to refer to it as that. It looked in fact rather innocent, simple snow clouds, on most planets not any more harmful than simple rainclouds that brought the rain and then moved on.

But alas, on this particular planet, these particular snow clouds gathered and then brought snowfall for at least a week, without moving on, and it was a regular occurrence that everyone was snowed in by meters of the frozen water posing as innocent little white crystals. It was an interesting weather phenomenon, and also dangerous for uninformed sentients. Which were exceedingly rare because in modern times everyone got warned, so generally there was not too much danger anymore. Those who hosted guests stocked up generously on anything essential that might be needed. So today there was nobody really in danger of freezing to death due to the abundance of snow the White Wall brought. (Quinlan had opinions on that, and most of them were objections to this statement, because he was still freaking cold, but that was probably his frustration speaking.)

The tradition to meet up before the White Wall hit and celebrate with songs and dance and good food and also this one special drink they made for the occasion had stayed and was probably one of the most famous things this planet had to offer, right up there with the weather phenomenon that was the reason for the celebration in the first place.

He turned around a corner, intent to get back to the small inn he stayed at and found himself almost immediately hissed at.

There was a cat. Very fluffy. All that fur probably was needed in this cold. Desperately so, because despite all the fur it still appeared to be shivering.

It also, under all the anger it spouted in the Force, felt quite miserable.

Quinlan felt for the creature.

He knelt and sent gentle waves of calmness at the cat. “Today is just not a good day, isn’t it?”

He would have said horrible, but that would have probably been his frustration talking.

The cat continued hissing, as Quinlan settled down against the wall of a building close to it. Not that the hissing really bothered Quinlan. He steadily continued with exuding calmness. It worried him a bit that despite the hissing and general everything of the cat, it had not moved. Neither to attack nor to run away. Odd.

Maybe the cat couldn’t run? Being hurt would explain why it was so angry and miserable. He had seen a vet clinic only a few blocks over that had open still and could at least check the cat for injuries.

“You don’t look so good,” Quinlan looked at the cat that had stopped hissing quite so loudly. He was not quite sure why he was talking to a cat, but there had been stranger things happening in this galaxy than this. The Force seemed to be supportive and anticipating something.

“How about I bring you to the vet – there is a clinic not too far away – and you get checked out for injuries. And maybe we can find a place for you to stay? The weather forecast said the White Wall would hit tonight, and honestly, nobody deserves to be out in this cold.”

The cat looked a little bit like it wanted to make a face between straight up murder and questioning Quinlan’s sanity. It felt a bit rude that a cat was looking at him like this.

“Come on, inside a house it’s definitely warmer than outside, that has to be a convincing argument.”

The cat took its time, but it got less hissy gradually. Still not in the best of moods – which was perfectly understandable, in Quinlan’s opinion – but the calming presence Quinlan tried his best to exude seemed to do its job.

Once he was sure the cat would not attack him immediately with the intent to kill Quinlan carefully gathered the cat into his arms and began making his way to the vet. The cat was predictably very unhappy, but suprisingly it was not struggling too much. Mostly because moving seemed to hurt it somewhat, Quinlan thought.

The vet, while still open, was running on minimum staff. There was only one vet and one assistant currently on hand; their colleagues had already gone to the celebrations. The two in attendance had, from the looks of it, drawn the short sticks and had been assigned the duty during the following week – or weeks, depending on how much and how long snow would fall – to care for long-term patients or animals that had been brought here because the owners couldn’t take care of them during this time.

Basically, they had to pull double duty in the veterinarian clinic and the animal shelter that apparently was part of it.

Quinlan did not envy them their jobs.

Especially not once the cat seemed to regain some energy and made valiant attempts at scratching the vet and their assistant to death during the health exam. Not that they were bothered by it; they made jokes about thick skin and that was the extent of their reactions to it.

It turned out the cat – actually a male specimen, apparently – was perfectly fine health-wise. Cold and exhausted, but nothing rest and warmth won’t fix.

The assistant rang him up after the exam was over.

“That would make 15 Credits – the fee for our services. Oh! Before I forget about it – will you take him home with you? Or do you want us to keep him here?”

The cat stared at the assistant, ready to take their eyes out.

“I’ll take him home with me, no problem,” Quinlan said. He had a feeling if he left the cat here he would actually commit murder. Aside from that, the vet had said – after Quinlan asked, because small talk was a thing – that the shelter was filled to the brim. And he wouldn’t really have to worry about feeding the cat. His temporary neighbour two rooms from his own rented one had brought two tookas with them, so there would be some kibble available for sure. And if needs really must, he could always share his own food, he supposed. “Thank you for all your help.”

“No problem. It is literally our job,” the assistant chuckled good naturedly. “However, I think you should hurry. It looks like the snow is coming down soon, and nobody wants to be outside when the White Wall hits town.”

The assistant had a good point there. He had a good sense for orientation and the Force to boot, but he honestly didn’t want to be outside still when the snow really came down. There are dares and then there is being an idiot. He very firmly counted himself among the former section.

He said his good-byes, cat under his arm, and made his way back to the inn.

This was really not how he had thought his visit on this planet would go.

-_-_-

Darth Maul, Sith Apprentice and a Lord in his own right, had at one point come to the conclusion that his life sucked.

His life up to his defeat at the hands of Kenobi and subsequent half-existence spoke for that in and of itself.

It was only due to his stubbornness (his desperation, his clinging to life, not that he called it that, because it smelled of weakness he refused to have) and hate for Kenobi that he managed to survive the following years. Admittedly, he had used the Dark Side as a crutch, an aid to his continued survival. Not that his then-Master had allowed him to learn these arts, but when has not being allowed something ever stopped him?

In any case, with everything gone, the whispers and promises of the Dark Side had been constant. Had been there, had not left. Had fed from his anger, made him stronger in return, let him survive in return.

For ten years the Dark Side’s whispers and his own tinkering to gain a lower body-half again where the only noises he took note of.

Then he learned that Count Dooku, that absolute snob, had replaced him, that his master had simply thrown him away (he refused to acknowledge that the actions – or lack thereof – of his former Master had hurt) and Maul swore revenge. On Kenobi, for defeating him; on Dooku for taking his place; on his Master for casting him off like one might throw away a broken toy.

They would pay. All of them.

He had survived, and then he plotted.

Kenobi had to die, and he would do it himself – no matter the cost. Every time the place where his body met the prosthetic cramped, making Maul remember the fresh wound with a shadow of the pain he had lived through, he was reaffirmed in this.

Dooku had to die too. And it had to be humiliating. He had vague memories of other Zabraks, who had been…close…to Maul. He could use their power. Take them from Dathomir. Leave chaos in their wake, as the damned witches on that Force-forsaken planet had given him away like a slave that he had been. (It felt like betrayal – another thought Maul did not want to recognize in himself, unsure were following it would lead, which felt suspiciously weak, and he refused to be that.)

The witches would suffer for what they had done.

It had the added bonus of at least indebting the other Zabraks to him, as he would free them from the Witches.

Once they were on his side, he would train them, and train them well. It would take time, but he had time. He could be patient. (It felt like hunting – another vague memory from the life before he had been given to his Master.)

Besides, it was not like he had nothing to do while training them. He could study the material he would take from the witches, use their Magick to his advantage – as he knew for certain that Palpatine never had an interest in learning Dathomirian Magick, seeing it as beneath him. It would be an ace up his sleeve.

He could also go to other Sith Temples. Learn. Teach. Biding his time.

He had heard Dooku had a thing for rare artifacts, so if he found one it was a possible lure for his replacement.

As for his former Master – death for him was inevitable. Palpatine had not shared all his plans for the Empire he wanted to build – but that he wanted to build one was certain. He had already started with his plans; in fact, one of the early stages had been becoming the Supreme Chancellor.

Knowing about the Empire was enough for Maul to decide where he wanted to begin his revenge against Palpatine.

Every Government can be undermined.

And Palpatine would grasp at straws, and fail to do so rather pathetically, when Maul pulled the Empire away from underneath his feet. Or shattered it into million pieces. He was not sure yet.

Regardless, when Palpatine would see his Empire crumble right in front of his eyes, Maul would strike, and end the wretched life of the wrinkled bastard.

Or maybe torture him first and then end him. He had not quite decided on his primary plan quite yet.

Point was, he had a plan with backup plans regarding Palpatine’s end, and the majority of them involved him building up his own underground empire. (Name still pending.)

And to that extent he visited this damned planet (honestly who would want to live here, it’s too cold) that brought him back to his suffering, because he needed contacts.

And the contacts were not actually the problem. The problem was that he had grown curious when he noticed a Force Artifact in one abandoned building – a ruin, really – far outside any settlement.

So he went to investigate. The Dark Side whispered promises still, but there was something else that spoke of anticipation – good or bad Maul couldn’t tell.

The artifact turned out to be some strange metal, nothing he could identify on the spot, formed like a claw. There were ancient texts, or at least they looked ancient, written all over the cellar room he had found the claw in – both room and claw hidden away behind traps that were almost too easy for him.

He had been too focused on his little hunt in the ruin to notice it right away, but the thing speaking of anticipation had grown and smothered the Dark Side’s whispers into nothingness. In hindsight that had been a glaring sign something was about to go wrong.

But he didn’t notice, and now he paid for it.

Because the moment he touched the claw, he lost consciousness, and once he woke up again still in the cellar, he was a kriffing cat, and the claw was nowhere to be found.

And, because the universe hated him, the ruins had started to rumble ominously, little pieces of rock falling from the ceiling in a clear sign that he should get out of there as fast as possible.

Which he did, of course.

It simply turned out that the traps that had seemed almost too easy for him before were significantly harder to circumvent. Especially when he had not even heard the tiniest slip of a whisper from the dark side, only felt that anticipating something hovering absolutely everywhere, which was somewhat interesting, but also absolutely useless. (He was not a fan.)

Also it turned out the bonus of having non-metal legs (because that was a thing, as a cat he apparently had four functioning flesh limbs) was actually not that much of a bonus at all when weighed against opposable thumbs and said metal legs not needing muscle stamina to run.

Outside the ruins he watched as any option to figure out what was the power behind the claw – and it had to be some power in cooperation with the claw, nothing else would make sense – literally crumbled to the ground, and quickly was covered in snow.

There was, he thought furiously, very little chance of finding the ruins again after the White Wall hit.

So as anyone sensible who also happened to have received some form of training in the powers he had, tried to lift a few rocks off where he suspected the cellar had been. (Apparently, his room orientation was now also shot on accord of being a karking cat.)

Nothing moved.

Maul let out a furious yowl.

Whoever was responsible for this dilemma would pay, he would make sure of it. As soon as he found out who it was anyway. Until then his rage would carry him forwards, as it always did.

He found it disconcerting that no whispers from the Dark Side, no promises, reached his ears after this vow. Only the anticipating silence from the Something Else. It was almost eery.

He paced in the snow for a bit. (Unsurprisingly it was cold.)

He was a cat, had no thumbs, and basically no strength – neither in body nor in the Dark Side – when compared to his actual body.

There was simply no chance of him digging the cellar out. Not without his full set of power.

He cursed and got furious when he only heard himself hissing and yowling. Very angrily, admittedly, but it was just not the same. It simply made him angrier, but without the added benefit of more whispers and promises from the Dark Side.

Which, again, was usually always present and was now suspiciously absent.

Without another option in sight, and unwilling to die in the White Wall, Maul had made his way back to the nearest town.

Which, very frustratingly, had taken an eternity. It had also been miserable because in the midst of his way back it had started to snow, and he was pretty sure he had run in a circle before getting his orientation back.

He had cowered in an alley and made the very first being suffer with his claws (neat) that came too close.

Then the lack of stamina in this useless (aside from the claws) body had made his muscles cramp and he had been reduced to hissing and yowling curses at everyone that came too close.

A few beings tried, but while they didn’t understand his words, at least they got the gist of his message.

Until a Jedi walked into his alley. Because of course there was a Jedi present on this planet, in this town, walking into his alley. He was easily noticeable as a Jedi because the anticipatory something from everywhere seemed to give this person something like a hug.

Strange concept.

And then the Jedi had the audacity to not only ignore his threats and come closer but also sit down next to him.

That absolute bastard would meet a harrowing death at either his hands or his claws. Blood would spill. He would shred the Jedi’s clothes, scratch at their skin until the liquid of their veins-

The Jedi was warm.

The Jedi was warm?

The anticipatory something from before had become smug (rude) and mixed with the something surrounding the Jedi, who then seemed to make the something into – well Maul would guess the equivalent of a warm blanket.

It was one of the stranger things Maul had felt. He knew similar things from the Dark Side, had used it to intimidate people in a bar once because he wanted a booth for himself and they were in the way, so he had sent them cowering.

But this was new. Startling. Strange. But not bad?

How very weird. (But also comfortable.)

The Jedi made a few good points about not freezing to death outside once the White Wall hit, but still, the audacity to simply pick him up and bring him to a vet!

He blamed it on his still cramping muscles that he did not eviscerate the Jedi on the spot. (Never mind that his muscles were somewhat useable once more.)

The vet claimed everything to be alright with him, which, no, he was kriffin cold, this planet was horrible, and also he was a cat and not a Zabrak as he originally should be, but before he could claw the vet’s – or his assistant’s, he wasn’t picky – eyes out, the Jedi had bundled him up and they had left.

He would have to enact rage later.

To his great surprise the Jedi did indeed take him with them to the place they were apparently staying at, and did not randomly drop him in a dumpster.

Maul refused to feel grateful for it. He did not want to think about his success regarding this decision.

Instead, just to spite the Jedi, he aimed to be as much of a menace as he could be without access to his full abilities. For the next few days furniture got scratched up. The Jedi’s food was eaten or made inedible by him. Fur was shed excessively.

The Jedi cursed regularly at him, but never raised a hand. An interesting change to his usual experience with other Users of the Force. Usually there was always violence involved when he met with any of them, be it his former Master or another Jedi.

Not that he wanted to be fair, but the reason behind it might be that in the Jedi’s eyes he was a simple cat.

The thought disgusted him somewhat, as he was not merely a cat. He was more than that but communicating that was hard when he had no thumbs and could only do cat things and noises. He was stuck at angry hissing.

Then, one evening, the Jedi made the grave mistake of leaving their cup of tea on the counter while they went to the ‘fresher. Maul saw a chance and took it.

He sat next to the cup on the counter and waited until the Jedi returned, established eye contact, and pawed the cup over the edge. It fractured into tiny, sharp shards. The ground was covered in rapidly cooling tea.

The Jedi began cursing.

Maul’s work was done, so he leapt from the counter.

Or intended to, because the Jedi – for once without gloves because they had indeed taken a shower – caught him mid-leap with their hands.

“Careful you kriffin menace, there are shards every…where…“ the Jedi petered off into silence.

The something – which Maul assumed could only be the Force the Jedi preferred to use – around the Jedi was thrumming with activity.

And thus Maul hung suspended in the air by two hands for a while.

He didn’t even struggle to get out of the hold. He blamed being distracted by the interesting patterns the Force of the Jedi drew and sung in equal measures.

The eyes of the Jedi were staring unblinking at nothing right above Mauls head, right until they weren’t anymore and instead snapped into focussing right on Maul.

“Fucking shit.”

Well, that was eloquent. Not. But it summarized Mauls situation quite neatly.

“You’re Maul.”

Maul tried his best to frown at the Jedi, but alas, being a cat crossed his plans once more.

“Why are you a cat? No actually, how the fuck are you still alive? We thought you were dead!”

Maul hissed. It was not his fault that Kenobi was incompetent.

“Holy shit, you’re a cat.”

Now he began to struggle in earnest. While the Jedi seemed flabbergasted still, it was only a question of when that would change, and as soon as the Jedi stopped being…shocked, he guessed, they would try to catch him and ‘bring him to justice’ or something ridiculous, and Maul did not want to make that easy for them by simply hanging in their grip like a wet towel.

“No, hold on, wait, I’m not going to murder you! But I could use your help.”

If he could snort derisively, Maul would. Yeah, right. A Jedi wanted his help.

“Okay I know this sounds ridiculous, but – well. I. Uhm. I saw that you have plans for your former Master, which largely end with him being dead, and I want to support that goal.”

Sounded fake but he would hear the Jedi out. For now. Maybe he could get good connections out of this.

“Okay, so hear me out – wait, no, name first, I’m Quinlan. Now hear me out. We’re kinda getting desperate here. The war is going on and on, our men are dying by droves despite our best attempts otherwise, the Jedi are dying equally as fast – not that that interests you, you’re probably happy about that,” Maul was actually not quite sure if he was happy about it, or if he had apathy about it, or if it was more convenience than anything else if it actually was convenience, but that’s nothing he wanted to spend thoughts on, “and we hope that finding the Sith Lord, the Sith Master, and ending them will end the war and spare many people from dying.”

A valid reason for a Jedi he supposed. Now the Jedi – Quinlan – only needed to get to the point.

“You were the Sith Master’s Apprentice. You could tell us about them. What you know about their plans. Which would, in turn, ruin those plans because we – the Jedi – would do our best to stop them. It would align with your goal of making your former Master miserable. I would have to speak to the council but maybe you can be directly involved too, enact your revenge more directly.”

At that Maul clawed at Quinlan’s bare arms, because he was still a cat, and he could not take revenge on Sidious as a cat.

Quinlan flinched satisfyingly.

“Here’s where my counteroffer comes in,” he continues despite the scratches and while still holding Maul up. “The Archives of the Jedi Order are large and filled with knowledge. You would have access to it and I would offer my help to reverse whatever made you into a cat.”

Maul stared at Quinlan.

Quinlan stared back.

“If you are entirely against this deal shake your head, if you are willing to talk details, I don’t know, hiss at me or something.”

Maul stared.

Quinlan frowned.

“Yeah, okay, maybe talk was the wrong verb to use there.” He hummed in thought. “I think I saw an external keyboard for a terminal somewhere in this place. It had a weird layout, but you should be able to type something when I hook it up to my pad.”

Maul stared.

Quinlan stared.

“So?”

Maul hissed.

#Secret Santa 2020 #my writing #Star Wars #Quinlan Vos #Darth Maul

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cle1024 · 5 years ago

Text

save me, save you | hhj

member: hwang hyunjin

genre: angst, fluff

summary: getting involved with the mafia was certainly not something you aimed to do in life―it was something you would’ve gratefully avoided, you much preferred breathing and living peacefully. yet, somehow, meeting him made the danger worth it. mafia!au, gang!au, fem!reader

warnings: mentions of murder, violence, drugs, swearing

a/n: so uh,, i know nothing about saving someone’s life or fixing up a stab/bullet wound, and i also wasn’t taught much about human anatomy, so there WILL be inaccuracies in the medical scenes. i apologise in advance and i guess this is a cringe warning for anyone who is actually educated on those situations, i dropped out of science so can’t relate. i started this not long after miroh dropped i could just never be bothered to finish it until recently, but third hyunjin fanfic in a row here we come!!!!!!

There was no doubt in your mind that Felix Lee was your best friend and always had been.

The two of you grew up near one another, subsequently attending school together for the majority of your lives. It was the third day of school when the freckled boy approached you, tanned skin and dark hair, but a bright smile and sparkly eyes.

“My name is Felix, let’s be friends!”

“Okay.”

Life by Felix’s side was enjoyable, content. Life was normal. And so, when Felix broke the news that he was moving to South Korea, you were understandably devastated. Though, you knew how much it meant to Felix: getting more in touch with his culture, family, and pursuing his studies more seriously and competitively. Nonetheless, despite all the pain and upset you felt, you supported his decision and maintained contact with him.

That was six years ago when Felix left. Now, you’d both graduated from high school, Felix had acquired a stable job (that’s all he would tell you about it), and you were applying for an international studies program. You had no interest in the program initially, but your local universities had less than stellar resources for the course you wanted to study, and your teachers had constantly reassured that you were smart enough for a more prestigious institution elsewhere in the world. That and the fact the program meant your tuition would cost much less. You hadn’t expected to be accepted into the program, nor did you expect to receive a letter from the prestigious Seoul National University accepting your enrolment, yet you sat there with the printed letter in front of your awestruck face. It was only natural that you immediately text Felix—you told each other, almost, everything and he lived in Seoul, this could be the reunion you’d joked about when he first left.

| so i got accepted into seoul national university | but i don’t speak good korean | lix: LMAO ME NEITHER HOLY FUCK

Twelve months had passed since that message was sent. Your were almost fluent in speaking Korean, you much preferred just listening to it and speaking English with Felix. A sigh escaped your lips as you trudged to your apartment door, exhaustion racked your body from the unbearable demand of studying medical science. You tried to convince yourself it would pay off, but you weren’t certain yet. Perhaps when you sit your exams you’ll find out. Exams. Why did you have to think that up? It drew a small groan from your mouth as you shoved the key into your apartment door, prepared to fall face first into the couch and complain to the air. Though your desires could not be fulfilled. Sitting on the very couch you intended to fall into was Felix, twirling a swiss army knife twirl around his right fingers as he watched his phone intently. There was also a gun on the coffee table. Someone’s gun was on your coffee table. You had a lot running through your mind, many questions and minor concerns about why the fuck Felix had illicit weaponry in your house, but all you managed to say was, “oh.” The boy obviously hadn’t heard you come in, his head snapping up and his fingers halting their twirling. Looking in your eyes, he felt obligated to tell you everything.

“That means I’m, basically, part of the mafia,” he paused to lick his lips, “we don’t sell weapons to the wrong people or kill for money. It’s more about… corruption and the occasional cocaine,” he summed up gently. You could definitively say it was the wildest fucking thing Felix had ever said to you, and you’d had some pretty odd conversations at two in the morning. As far as you knew, his job was stable and high paying, but you didn’t know it was completely and utterly illegal. Most sane people would flip their shit in this situation, cut off ties with Felix and shove him—along with all his weapons—out of the apartment. You didn’t react that way, and you weren’t sure whether it was because you were far too open-minded or because you had slowly lost your mind over time and become desensitised to any sort of shocking news.

“Oh.”

Felix chewed on his lip as you processed the information, clasping and unclasping his hands. He prepared for the worst, but you simply shrugged, “okay.”

Felix was beyond bewildered, “y-you’re not mad? Or scared?” Your eyes softened at his questioning.

“Felix, why would I be mad? It’s your life, do whatever you want with it. Your job doesn’t change the fact you’re a freckled sook who cried when you made your ramen too spicy.”

“Okay, that was one time,” you laughed at his defensive expression and that was enough to break the facade completely. The two of you laughed for a little while until Felix’s face returned to a more serious expression, “Y/N, I promise you, you’re in no danger whatsoever. The golden rule in this district is to leave innocent people out of it, regardless of how much someone fucked you over. If anyone, and I mean anyone, does anything that alarms you or threatens you, you call me right away. Understand?”

A soft smile stretched across your face at his concern, “of course I will,” Felix breathed a sigh of relief. If anything happened to you, especially at the fault of his job, he’d never forgive himself. To him, family came before his own safety; you were his unbiological sibling and he would always protect you as best as he could.

It was all fine and dandy until someone broke that rule. Your eyes stung with exhaustion, the bright screen of your laptop glared at you as you tiredly read the words displayed on the screen. There was nothing you craved more at the moment than sleep; you seemed to be craving that a lot since you came to Korea. At first, you thought the distant sound of a doorknob being wobbled was one of your neighbours. It was a Friday night—or Saturday morning, you supposed—they’d probably gone out, got shit-faced and stumbled back home, having forgotten how to unlock a door. But then the noise stopped, a door squeaked open and was gently shut. You heard the door click back into place, and that’s when things started to feel off. It sounded too close to be next door—now that you thought about it, neither of your neighbours would even be out at this time. Perhaps it was Felix, he had often complained about how shitty the door to your apartment was. With a stretch of your arms and legs momentarily you pushed yourself from the bed, creeping towards your bedroom door. The cool metal of the doorknob brushed against your skin, seconds away from being opened when a series of crashes sounded from the small living room on the other side of the door. Felix may be clumsy, he may sit up too quickly and hit his head on tables, but he rarely managed to break anything in the process—if he did then the sound was followed with a string of English curses, but cuss words never came. You were starting to believe it was Felix. With all the courage you could muster, you opened the bedroom door and stood shocked at the scene in front of you. A vase lay broken on the floor—crash one. Your white sofa had been tipped backwards, the cushions scattered the floor. The coffee table had been overturned, candles left strewn on the floor. Your porcelain plate, which had previously sat by the sink, was attempting to escape the kitchen in hundreds of pieces—crash two. The wooden shelving unit diagonal to your bedroom had been tipped over, all your picture frames smashed into dangerous shards of glass—crash three. The chest of drawers near your bedroom door had been left untouched for the time being, a photo of you and Felix at seven years old perfectly intact. In the midst of chaos, a man stood with a black ski mask covering his face. All you could see where his ominous brown eyes, staring right back at you. It felt like you were staring into a dark pool, full of mystery yet devoid of emotion or sense of reality. It seemed to happen in an instant; one minute you were standing there in an intense stare off, the next you had been shoved against the wall of your living room right next to your bedroom door, your phone falling from your free hand in the process. His glove-clad hand wrapped securely around your throat, the pressure of his fingers increasing to cut off your air supply once and for all. You clawed at him, but you already knew it was no use. He was twice the size of you, had the upper hand, and had already weakened you significantly. You’d already accepted that you were destined to die at some point, everyone was, but you’d always secretly prayed that you’d get to say goodbye first. You didn’t want to leave without telling your parents you loved them, or telling your friends back home that they were some of the greatest people you’d ever met, or just saying a simple ‘cya’ to Felix, as you always did. Felix. The memory struck you like lightning as your vision started to spot slightly. When he confessed to you about his career, made that promise of protection, he had purposefully left something behind.

“Take this,” Felix said as he held the swiss army knife towards you.

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“If you ever need to defend yourself and I can’t, for some reason, use it.”

You’d made the wise decision to hide it in your living room, behind that picture of you and Felix. If you could stretch your arm just a little further, you could grab the red covering. Your fingers strained as you held out for the weapon, head lifting up as your vision worsened. The sharp metal tickled at your fingers, causing you to desperately snatch the weapon up. You used all the coherence you had left, swiftly flicking the knife out of the plastic covering. Your vision was blurred, severely, and you could feel yourself losing consciousness. Just a little longer. With all the strength you could muster, you brought the blade upwards, taking no notice of where you stabbed him. A grunt left his lips, followed by some choked gasps. His hand unlatched from your neck to grab his own. You fell to your knees, wheezing for oxygen desperately, taking deep breaths as you coughed and gasped. Your eyes traveled downwards, catching sight of the red. There was blood all along the knife, staining your fingers. The man lay ahead of you on his back, blood spilling from his throat as he twitched and choked up the metallic substance. It was all over the floor around him. You could tell you’d caught an artery. In desperation, you tugged the purple hoodie from your shoulders, holding it against the man’s open neck wound. It seemed to get harder to breathe, even without the hand working to restrict your. Hands shaking, covered in the man’s crimson blood, tears streamed down your face. With the absence of your purple hoodie, now stained with the blood of someone else, the cold air nipped at your exposed skin. There were some red smears on your once white singlet. Why was there so much red? The shaking of your hands only worsened as you crawled to sit against the wall, hand reaching for the cellphone you’d dropped in the commotion. You only needed one person right now. The phone didn’t ring for long.

“Y/N, what’s up?” Felix spoke calmly through the phone, blissfully unaware. A sob forced up your throat as you tried to talk.

“F-Felix, I killed someone. Oh, God, I killed someone,” your voice came out between broken sobs. You could imagine Felix standing up in a panic, gathering his shit and furrowing his eyebrows.

“What do you mean? Where are you?”

“I-I’m at home, someone came in and I didn’t know what was happening and I-I stabbed him, Felix I sta-”

“Hey, take a deep breath, okay? I’m on my way right now, don’t move,” you nodded in response, knowing fully well that Felix couldn’t see you. Mumbling an okay, you ended the call.

Felix gently pushed open the door, ushering in the others. Chan, Minho and Changbin had insisted on coming along with Felix, worried someone else could be lurking and waiting for Felix to enter your apartment block. The apartment was in disarray: furniture tipped, photo frames shattered, a plate thrown carelessly like a toy. A body surrounded by blood, and Felix’s childhood friend sitting against the wall behind it, shaking. The purple material of your hoodie was stained, noticeably so, laying across your legs haphazardly. Felix rushed forward, crouching to your level and pulling you into his chest. The others watched from a few feet away, uncertain of what to say or do.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay,” Felix cooed as sobs wracked your form. He swayed you gently, petting your hair to calm you down. The youngest turned his attention towards the other boys once your sobs quietened slightly, “Minho, can you take Y/N back down to the car? We’ll be down in a minute,” Minho nodded silently, gently walking towards you to scoop you up in his arms, the hoodie remaining bundled up on your legs. Neither of you said a word once you entered the car. Minho peeled the cover up from your lap, slightly gagging at the toxic iron scent of the blood. He gently take your hands in his as he washed off as much blood as he could with a white cloth and water bottle. Your mind was evidently elsewhere.

Chan and Felix returned to the car ten minutes later after thoroughly searching for stolen possessions. Chan filled Minho in on the details, hoping you’d gain some closure from hearing them, “he was from NCT, had some silver bracelets and their wallet shoved in his bag. Changbin called Woojin, they’ll put everything back in place,” Minho nodded softly as Felix opened up the car door on your other side. The car starts as Felix takes one of your hands in his, the red stains faded to a lighter tone. You seemed to take no notice, staring blankly at the car’s console in front of you.��

It was late, or early depending on how you see it. Red lines illuminated in formation of the time, 3:36am. The car had pulled up in front of a dark house in a quieter area of Seoul, yet still off one of the main roads. You concluded that it was only quiet because of the ungodly time, otherwise there would be cars cramming the streets, honking left and right. Chan exited the car first, purposefully closing the door gently to not alarm or shock you, Minho following suit. Felix opened his door, tugging your hand gently to encourage you to leave the vehicle. It was as if you were on autopilot. Blood splattered legs moved on their own as the green hoodie Minho had leant you protected your arms from the chilling night air, Felix’s arm slipped around your waist to support you as you walked into the house. He noticed that Woojin’s car was missing from the street; he wondered how long it would take Woojin and Changbin to fix up your apartment. As you stepped foot inside the quiet house, it revealed itself to be much larger than you initially thought. The kitchen was furthest from you, a spiral staircase to the right that led you both upstairs and downstairs, a hallway that trailed off from the left side of the living room. The living room was cozy and inhabited by two boys packing cocaine. Lovely.

“Hey ma- what the fuck?” The smaller of the two, a brunette boy with chubby cheeks, spoke as he raised his head to greet the returning members. The other boy, with lighter brown hair, almost a dirty blonde, mirrored the other’s confusion. Neither had expected to see a random person with bloody hands, legs and absent eyes being guided through the house by Felix. The freckled boy didn’t stop to greet them, immediately guiding you upstairs to wash off in the bathroom. The two boys immediately understood the severity of the situation, but they still craved for answers.

“NCT went after them. All they did was defend themselves from death,” Chan spoke firmly, his eyebrows slightly curved in a mix of sympathy and fury.

Jisung’s eyebrows furrowed, “but we don’t go after innocent people?”

Chan huffed in response, “clearly NCT had other plans. Where’s Seungmin?”

“Basement. Jeongin’s there too,” Hyunjin spoke as he turned his attention back to the white substance on the coffee table. Chan nodded firmly before leaving, Minho falling onto the empty couch across from the two boys to stretch his tired limbs. Hyunjin sat with furrowed eyebrows, staring at the table intensely.

“Hyunjin, you good?” Minho questioned in concern.

“Yeah, just… something feels off about this.”

Jisung huffed a laugh, “well, yeah, NCT just broke a golden rule.”

“That’s the point, why would they?” Jisung had suddenly lost interest in the business transaction being organised on the table, Minho sitting up in curiosity. Hyunjin flickered his eyes to the staircase momentarily, “you know how anal they are about maintaining that rule. Taeyong made the damn rule after…” Hyunjin trailed off as all eyes lowered solemnly, no one wanted to utter her name. They all knew how much it hurt Taeyong when she was murdered, everyone was hurt, shocked. There was no reason to bring up old pain, “why would they break it now?” Minho tilted his head as he wandered over the possibilities, Jisung put his focus back on the white substance with a sigh.

“Whatever the reason, Chan will make them pay,” his nimbled hands continued with his previous work, “no fucking doubt.”

Chan stood as Taeyong entered the cafe, bowing and shaking hands before sitting down again. It was better to meet in a public setting, less likely for emotions and irrationality to get the better of anyone involved. The older ran a hand through his fiery red hair in frustration, “what happened?”

Chan lowered his voice cautiously, “Felix’s friend, Y/N... one of your men tried to kill them this past Friday.”

Taeyong moved forward in his seat, leaning his elbows on the table with narrowed eyes, “what are you talking about?”

“Ji Hansol broke into their apartment and almost killed an innocent person. One of your men broke the golden rule.”

“Where is he?” Taeyong was evidently furious; that rule was the one thing he drilled into his employees’ minds.

“Dead. It was either him or them.”

Taeyong shook his head in disbelief, “if they hadn’t have already killed him I would’ve done it myself,” he paused abruptly, eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement, “wait—Ji Hansol?” Chan nodded, “how is that possible? He’s meant to be in China.”

Chan mirrored Taeyong’s look of confusion, “then what the hell was he doing here?”

Taeyong sighed, “as suspicious as it looks, I swear on her life that NCT was not behind this in any way. I’ll get the documents to prove he wasn’t meant to be here, I’ll help you get to the bottom of this, I’ll do whatever I can,” his voice softened significantly, “no innocent person deserves to die.”

Lee Taeyong, as intimidating as he could be, was truly a weakened man. Behind the eyebrow slit, dark narrowed eyes, fiery red hair and commanding presence, he was a grieving lover, a leader of men who could die under his call. Chan knew he hadn’t lived the same experiences as the older, but he understood the fear that plagued him. The fear of losing everything, everyone—the only difference was that Taeyong had already experienced that when she died. Seulgi had done such a good job at keeping Taeyong together, but in doing so she became the only thing that could tear him apart.

No one had a clue as to why you were targeted to begin with. NCT had proven their lack of involvement, none of Chan’s gang — which you’d come to know as ‘Stray Kids’ — had done anything to provoke Hansol, and he clearly wasn’t here to give an explanation. Seungmin had spent weeks researching the man, with the occasional help of Jeongin when he wasn’t at school or using an innocent childlike facade to coax information. After just over two months, Seungmin had finally found out what happened. During that time, you hadn’t left the guest room unless it was absolutely necessary. Felix and Changbin had returned to your apartment the day after the break-in to collect the belongings you’d need most desperately; none of them wanted you returning to the apartment until there was an answer.

Seungmin’s chair swivelled around to face Chan and Taeyong in the doorway, “Voler.”

“What?”

“It’s French for ‘steal’ apparently,” Seungmin gestured his pen towards his desk, “it’s also the name of a huge hitman and robbery scheme across Asia. It’s believed to have stemmed from the Yakuza, but nothing’s confirmed. Our dear Hansol happened to be a loyal member.”

Taeyong shook his head in disbelief, “I-I don’t understand, how could he betray us like that?”

Seungmin sighed softly, “it paid very high, mainly because the stakes were so high. That doesn’t matter though, we’ve got a bigger problem on our hands now,” Seungmin’s hands sifted through the scattered information on his desk, a small noise of triumph leaving his soft lips once he retrieved the piece he was looking for, “they’ve got a base in Ilsandong-gu, Hansol was stationed at that specific base-”

“Which means they were more likely to have involvement in Y/N’s robbery,” Chan voiced earning a satisfied nod from Seungmin. The curly-haired man turned to Taeyong, “you in?”

Taeyong eyed the younger two momentarily, “without a fucking doubt.”

Woojin grunted slightly as he supported Hyunjin with his left arm. They all knew the dangers this mission presented, but none of them quite preempted severe injury. Everything had been going to plan; Changbin sniped the first man who presented himself, Minho snuck up on the second, then all hell broke loose. There was blood everywhere, gunshots whizzing past barricades left and right, it was pure chaos. Hyunjin had been grappling with a rival member, trying to gain dominance in order to reach for the gun abandoned beside the two. He had almost reached it when the other forced a knife through his abdomen towards the upper right of his belly button. Changbin took the chance to shoot the perpetrator in the head after noticing the situation, desperately signalling to Woojin. Soon, all of SKZ were alerted of Hyunjin’s state, covering Woojin from gunfire as he half-dragged half-carried Hyunjin out of the warehouse.

When you heard the door burst open, the last thing you expected to see was a groaning Hyunjin leaning on Woojin for support. You saw the blood staining his shirt, pouring from his abdomen, causing your stomach to churn and rid of the desire to eat the sandwich you’d just made. You hardly knew Hyunjin, or Woojin, or any of SKZ except for Felix, but you knew where your morals lied. If there was a man bleeding out in front of you, you’d do everything you could to save his life. There’s no denying that you didn’t have extreme confidence in your medical ability, at least in terms of operating on dying people, but you put that aside in the moment. You knew how the human body worked and how to save it, all you had to do was not fuck up in the process. Instantly, you snap into action, trailing behind Woojin towards their designated medical room. The only time you’d entered the room was when Felix forced you inside so Woojin could properly check the bruises on your neck. You had taken notice of the lack of anesthesia or oxygen masks to be used in desperate situations—Felix had once told you that Woojin always patched them up, but he also told you that no one had ever been fatally wounded.

Woojin’s panic was evident in the way he hastily laid Hyunjin down on the operating table, eyes darting around frantically. With quick steps, you moved beside Woojin, “get a cloth or something to put in his mouth, it’ll muffle the screams,” the older nodded quickly. You turned your attention back to Hyunjin—he was paler than usual, sweating and groaning, his condition was only worsening. As soon as Woojin had shoved the cloth in his mouth you proceeded, ordering him to hold Hyunjin down to the best of his ability. You were glad Woojin was strong; Hyunjin would be in a hell of a lot of pain. Hyunjin’s neck tensed as you placed a hand on the knife’s handle, grunting slightly at the movement. You took a deep breath, laying a hand on his abdomen for support as you removed the knife from him as quickly as you could. A pained scream tore from Hyunjin’s throat, guttural and haunting. The cloth had done little to muffle the sound. Your hands applied pressure to the wound, frantically working to halt the bleeding before it was too late, all the while Woojin promised he would treat Hyunjin to a free meal if he got through the pain.

Hyunjin’s chest raised up and down peacefully as he slept in the white bed of the medical room. After screaming and groaning his way through the process of getting stitches, he haphazardly downed a glass of water before falling asleep. You found it difficult to monitor whether the boy had made it or not due to the lack of heart monitor, the peaceful sounds of his breathing would have to do for now.

“I can’t thank you enough, Y/N, really,” Woojin spoke warmly. You’d have previous assumptions about the mafia and gangs, mainly based on Hollywood flicks that dramatised the career choice, but the nine boys seemed to throw those all out the window. Woojin had a nurturing and calming presence, Felix was playful and giving, that Minho guy who’d fixed you up that night was quiet and respectful. To be fair, the rest of them could have entirely fit the stereotype of the mafia, you just hadn’t interacted with them enough to find out. After the events that brought you here, you decided it would be best to just stay out of the way and keep to yourself—both for your benefit and theirs. You didn’t want to interrupt what they had going on and you didn’t want to interact with anyone. With a polite smile you nodded your head, unsure of how to respond to Woojin.

Chan stood in the doorway as you laid the damp cloth on Hyunjin’s head. Two days had passed since the stabbing and you’d devoted all your time to helping Hyunjin—you figured it would be a good way to repay them for letting you stay here, and you were the most qualified to do so. Hyunjin wanted nothing more than to get back to work but his body simply refused. Exhaustion wracked his limbs when he was awake and every time he attempted to sit up, let alone stand, his head felt like a bowling ball and weighed him back down. He’d fallen asleep not long ago, before Chan came to check on him. You weren’t aware of the older’s presence until he spoke up, startling you into a flinch of fright.

“Thank you for doing this.”

You half-smiled at him, “it’s okay.”

The male sighed gently before walking into the room, the click of the door shutting behind him sliced through the room’s air. You felt his presence beside you as you refused to meet his gaze—he was far too intimidating even by just standing there, “I’m sorry you got dragged into all of this,” his voice was gentler than before. Soft, calm, genuine—he probably wouldn’t fit the stone cold stereotype set by Vito Corleone in The Godfather, “we’ll figure out a safer place for you to go, but, in the meantime, just let me know if there’s anything I can do for you. I truly am sorry that you got dragged into this.”

You turned your head in order to meet Chan’s gaze. It was soft, genuine, and almost broken. You got the feeling that he didn’t enter this lifestyle willingly, that he knew exactly what it was like to suddenly be affiliated with a lifestyle you had little to no prior knowledge about. Chan wasn’t here by choice, but he stuck by it. He followed through with what fate served him and he built an empire from it, he found a family to live through the darkest of days. You admired that more than he could know, “I will. Thank you for what you’ve done.”

Chan didn’t voice it, but he saw your arrival as a potential opportunity. You were familiar with medicine and how to properly patch someone up after they receive a life-threatening injury. Rather than losing two fighters when someone is injured, surely it would be better to have a designated nurse who could stick to the job, instead of forcing Woojin to rush through life-saving surgery in order to make it back to a mission in time to drive everyone back to the house. Chan knew it was a desperate deal, stupid and selfish in all honesty, but your arrival could’ve been a long-term blessing in disguise. After all, Chan’s life had been largely riddled with bad luck, perhaps karma had finally taken mercy on him.

At least a month had passed since the incident—you really had no concept of time in this place—and Hyunjin was slowly, but surely, recovering with no sign of infection. You’d also seen his bare abdomen one too many times at this point since he insists on being shirtless―he avidly insists “it’ll be easier than fucking up my shirt.” Aside from monitoring his recovery and trying not to stare at his perfectly sculpted abdomen, you’d began to form a good bond with Hyunjin during your time together. You never talked to him until the incident, mainly because you never had a reason to leave the room you were staying in, and you couldn’t deny you were slightly mad with yourself for not conversing sooner. He was entertaining to talk to, a little bit of a drama queen sometimes, yet intelligent and open-minded. Hyunjin had a good mix of personality traits, you slightly envied him for such. Surely conversing with someone like yourself was bland and repetitive.

Of course it was unbeknownst to you, but that couldn’t be further from the truth; Hyunjin had taken an interest in you since you began caring for him. All he had known about you prior to your care was that you and Felix had been good friends for a while, you were studying at university, and your shit got rocked by someone you didn’t even know―it was an unfortunate turn to say the least. The fact it happened to you made Hyunjin curse the forces that caused it; there was no reason for you to be dragged into this kind of unforgiving, inescapable lifestyle when you had a heart of gold. He could vividly recall the conversation that prompted the revelation, it must’ve been two or more weeks into his recovery.

“I assume you study nursing or something, right?”

“Medical science, but close enough,” you shrugged nonchalantly.

“Why medical science instead of becoming a doctor or something?”

“We all die one day, I’d rather help find a cure for something than force people to suffer through it slowly.”

Hyunjin hadn’t known how to respond to that, so he didn’t, but it resonated with him. The whole reason he’d joined the business, this kind of inescapable lifestyle, was to earn enough money to pay for better treatment for his mother. He got close, really damn close, but he just didn’t get there in time. The first non-business phone call he got was to inform him about his mother’s passing, he hadn’t received another since.

It was evident to Hyunjin, and every other member, that you were incredibly smart―a fact Felix would boast as if it was his own. Your skills, mainly in the science field, could come in useful to the gang: you had a good medical understanding, knew which chemicals could do harm or hinder a person momentarily. Chan was intrigued by your abilities and more than willing to take you on board, but no one ever joined without the approval of every member. Gaining such had been a difficult task, with Felix insisting that he didn’t want to see you hurt or in harm’s way―his mind quickly changed when Jeongin asked “wouldn’t it be just like a sleepover?” Hyunjin wasn’t as easy to persuade. He didn’t share the fact he was hesitant, but he didn’t need to. It was written all over his symmetrical face.

Truthfully, Hyunjin had grown a little too close to you during his recovery, obliviously until he had a startling epiphany. You were the last thing he saw when he fell asleep, the first thing he saw when he woke up. You cared for him more than yourself, it was evident in your under eye bags and weight loss ― to the point where he had refused to eat unless you were eating with him. When he looked at you, the evening sunset highlighting you perfectly and your hair unstyled, yet sitting neatly on your head, he knew he was in deep. Regarding his feelings, he had two concerns: whether you felt the same way, and whether Felix would be accepting of his feelings and approve him as a candidate for your love; he didn’t need the added possibility of you fucking dying to become the third concern. At the end of the day, he supposed it didn’t matter. Felix would never want anyone to hurt you, and even if he didn’t intend to, Hyunjin knew he would inevitably end up doing so.

When Chan proposed for you to join their gang, you were hesitant to say the least. For you, there was no desperate situation in which you needed cash quickly, no reason to put yourself in harm’s way. It was dangerous, Chan admitted that to your face, but he promised you consistent protection and a position that didn’t include staring down the barrel of a gun.

“Y/N, you’ve been here for four months already. How many times have you been hurt?”

You didn’t like his persuasiveness, or the fact he was right. Since you moved into their guest bedroom you’d felt safer, no longer feeling eyes follow you or whispers of your name in the middle of the night. There was a small part of you that wanted to decline the offer, return home to your apartment and never look in the eyes of Chan or Hyunjin ever again. Of course, that was only a small part of you. Although you hated to admit it, you knew you’d never be able to return to that apartment. Not without seeing the blood all over again, feeling the breath leave your lungs or hearing unexplainable noises elsewhere in the apartment. With a soft movement of your head, you agreed, “okay.”

Chan smiled with a strong nod, he was fond of you after all, as were the others in the group. It seemed that everyone was in support of the decision, especially your freckled friend who beamed as he exclaimed, “it’ll be like an eternal sleepover!”

“That sounds like a nightmare if you’re involved,” Seungmin deadpanned, but his stoic expression was quickly replaced by an amused smile at Felix’s pout. Though, everything wasn’t as it seemed. Hyunjin, as much as he wanted to be, wasn’t excited. You joining the gang ― regardless of whether you would be in the middle of the action ― meant seeing you everyday. Seeing you everyday meant realising how much he admired you. And admiring you meant he would only fall deeper. How could he tell anyone that, though? Such an objection would send a rift of embarrassment, discomfort, awkwardness through the house; everything would fall. There was no time for silly crushes. All he could do was admire you from afar and ache every time you walked away from him, completely oblivious to how he felt. When did he become so weak? Hyunjin didn’t like feeling vulnerable, and that’s exactly how you made him feel. With a soft sigh, he decided it would be better to just stay away.

It was a solid plan―for a month, until Hyunjin was injured again in a trade gone wrong. If he was being completely honest with himself, which he recently was not, the constant thought of you kept him from concentrating during the trade. He felt so out of it, blocking out the sounds of his non-biological brothers yelling as a bullet whizzed towards him. No, all he saw was the way you looked so ethereal in the light, the way you would always be just out of reach. All he could think about with you, there was no time to consider the scars being etched in his abdomen. Faintly, he could feel the burning in his chest, Chan’s arms dragging him away as bullets rang out from Changbin’s position on the roof. He didn’t register being put in the car, or Chan demanding he keep his eyes open with a hand pressed tightly against his chest. He could feel his feet dragging slightly as Chan and Woojin dragged him inside, the sight of Hyunjin’s pale face and bleeding chest forcing Seungmin, Minho and Jeongin to abandon their intense game of uno.

“Oh fuck, fuck, shit,” Chan and Woojin couldn’t find the time to scold Jeongin’s language, too concerned with the dying boy in their arms. Jeongin’s feet pounded up the stairs, throwing your door open and tugging you to the first aid room. The confusion on your features transformed to gut-wrenching worry as soon as you caught sight of Hyunjin, his shirt off and a cloth being stuffed in his mouth―you couldn’t tell whether it was Minho or Woojin who was holding him down while the other gathered the necessary equipment, everything seemed to blur as you jumped into action. You’d found someone willing to sell you, an unlicensed medical student, anesthesia, but it was due to arrive next week―just your luck. Chan’s hands clamped on Hyunjin’s legs, Seungmin turned away to avoid the gruesome sight, Jeongin lingered by the door.

“I’m sorry,” the words came out as a whisper as you took the scalpel from Woojin, slicing across where the bullet had entered. The entry hole was too small to get it out safety―who were you kidding, you weren’t even sure if you could get it out. The cloth only slightly muffled the pained groan Hyunjin let out, gosh, you wished that anesthesia could’ve come sooner. Screams of agony tore from his throat as tweezers worked to remove the bullet, the writhing of his legs causing anxiety to rise in your chest.

“Keep him still,” Woojin ordered. One sudden move and you’d live with the crushing guilt of knowing you let Hyunjin die. Hyunjin seemed to vaguely register Woojin’s words, opting to tense his muscles rather than squirm away from the pain. Seungmin covered his ears with a solemn expression while Jeongin looked away in discomfort, the shrill cries continuing. It was close, too close for your liking, to hitting Hyunjin in a fatal area or embedding deeply in his chest.

“I got it,” you mumbled as the bloody metal was dumped in the dish beside you. Woojin ushered everyone out of the room, Hyunjin’s screams of agony downgrading to groans.

“Give me a call if you need anything,” the oldest closed the door behind him. You heard the front door slam open and shut with frantic footsteps, marking the return of Felix, Changbin and Jisung. Words were calmly and indistinguishably spoken by Chan. Though, it didn’t matter what he was telling them, your priority was making sure Hyunjin wouldn’t cease breathing. His eyelids were fluttering shut from exhaustion, an action that would flare alarm in your chest.

“Please, don’t fall asleep.”

The cloth was removed from his mouth when it was over, your hand raking his hair away from his sweaty forehead, ridding of the uncomfortable sensation. A sigh passed your lips, voice soft as you spoke, “you need to stop making a habit out of this,” it was directed towards Hyunjin, but you weren’t sure he heard it.

Hyunjin wanted to respond, something flirty he could blame on his disorientation and pain, but you were already urging him to down some bottled water. As you cleaned the utensils, Hyunjin allowed his eyes to flutter closed, whispering a gentle “thank you, Y/N.”

Time passed without your acknowledgement; had it been weeks, months? It all blended together, you couldn’t be certain. Hyunjin was close to recovery, but not quite there. Frankly, you were getting tired of his occasional complaints about not “being in action”. Part of you hoped he’d stay out of action if it kept him safe, but you knew that wasn’t an option in this kind of lifestyle. The roots of his hair were coming through, the dirty blonde darkening to have a light brown tone instead. It was the little things that were becoming noticeable as you spent more time with him; the moles on his face, the way the sun seeped through the window and reflected so clearly in his eyes. He sat on what was referred to as the ‘operation table’―except it wasn’t padded and was likely meant for veterinarians―as you searched for mild pain medication. When you turned around, you couldn’t help but take a moment to admire him. His head was turned away from you, gazing wistfully out the window, the setting sun illuminating his honey skin in rays of golden sunshine. He looked like a statue from Greek mythology, sculpted by the Gods to embody perfection, frame marked with the scars of a warrior. They littered his abdomen, one from the stabbing, one from the bullet, one on his lower back that Woojin had patched up for him before you came ― it was obvious in the way it was majorly faded. A sigh passed the male’s plump lips, looking down at his fidgeting hands before looking up at you. If only you knew what he thought about you. How he felt you were incomparable, the finest piece of art to ever be masterfully painted. The oversized white shirt you wore contrasted your glowing skin and hung around your figure in an unfitted, yet still accentuating, manner. It wasn’t quite long enough to hide your blue pyjama shorts from sight. You approached him quietly, holding out the painkillers and a glass of water. Pulling yourself on the table, you sit beside Hyunjin as he downs the painkillers and watch the sunset. He glances over at you curiously, gulping down a mouthful of water, “you seem to be pretty good at saving lives, why aren’t you a doctor already?” A light laugh passed your lips.

“Because I’m not studying to become a doctor, and I haven’t spent, what? Nine years studying?”

“It takes nine years to become a doctor?” Hyunjin’s eyes almost bulged out of his skull. You shrugged nonchalantly.

“Something like that,” a comfortable silence settled between the two of you, watching as the sun swam closer to the horizon, “besides, I don’t think I’d be able to handle the pressure of saving someone’s life.”

A chuckle sounded from Hyunjin, “you say that, yet you’ve saved me from death twice.” You grew silent, he looked at you knowingly. The thought had never crossed your mind, you didn’t want to consider the possibility of Hyunjin dying―you didn’t want to imagine any of them dying, Hyunjin was the only one who’d come close so far.

“Yeah, but that’s… different.”

“How is it different?” Hyunjin looked towards you with a quirked eyebrow; you often wondered that too. You refused to look at him, too afraid of spilling all your secrets with one glance―but they came out in whispers, regardless.

“Because… I can’t live a life where you’re dead.”

The words almost slipped by him, blending in with the light breeze swirling outside, but he caught them. In one sentence, Hyunjin had the answers to every question that’d swarmed his brain since the week after his stabbing. There was no hesitation in his actions, cupping your left cheek in his hand and turning your face towards him. The sun glistened in your eyes, highlighting the enchanting colour of your orbs, shadows danced lightly on your face. In that moment, he wanted you to know that you wouldn’t lose him, no matter what. His eyes fluttered shut as his head dipped down, fulfilling the dream he’d chased since you first saved him. Your lips pressed together in a warm embrace, melting together as if they were made for each other. His tongue swiped at your lower lip, asking for access that you granted. As the sun rays of gold heated your skin and framed your soul, Hyunjin swore he had never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

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zenonaa · 5 years ago

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Fandom: Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fukawa Touko/Togami Byakuya Characters: Fukawa Touko, Togami Byakuya Additional Tags: plus the rest of the cast post chapter 3, togafukaweek2020 Series: Part 1 of TogaFuka Week 2020

Comments: Day 1 for TogaFuka Week! I tried to hit both prompts with this (Pining and Enclosed Spaces). Enjoy! :-)

***

‘Stir-crazy’ is an informal term referring to when a person becomes restless or distraught due to prolonged confinement or routine. For example, to use the term in a sentence, ‘being trapped in Hope’s Peak made several students go stir-crazy’.

Alternatively, ‘Celes went stir-crazy because she couldn’t stand having the same routine every day, so she orchestrated the murders of two of her classmates’.

And, for a final example, ‘Byakuya was absolutely not going stir-crazy, but that would explain some thoughts he began to have’.

After the third trial, the fourth floor of the school opened up, which one would have thought would help. Maybe not the classrooms, not without actual lessons going on, but the chemistry lab proved a little more interesting, offering vitamins to make one healthy and chemicals to make one dead. Potted flowers sat on desks in the faculty room where computers used to be - Monobear once quipped ‘plants are way better examples of how to grow up than computers’ - and the music room housed a stage, a piano and other instruments Byakuya knew how to play.

Makoto even found a strange photograph of three of their deceased friends messing about with a camera. Yet, those pieces of excitement didn’t stop the strange, intrusive thoughts scratching at the walls of Byakuya’s mind.

In the faculty room, Byakuya rubbed a silky petal of a sunflower between his thumb and forefinger, a shadow carved into his brow in thought. The flowers seemed out of place. No, they were out of place, and not just because of their location. No matter how many times he came here, they didn’t blend into their grey surroundings. They stood out. Seemed perky. Bright. Healthy.

Did they regularly get exposed to sunlight...?

He released the petal. Within seconds, a chill pattered down his neck. When he turned around, a solitary figure in the doorway confronted his view. His lips pursed.

“Fukawa,” he acknowledged in monotone.

By now, he had become accustomed to her following him like his shadow, to the point where he thought he could sense her whenever she lurked nearby. Touko jolted and stood to attention. The blank look in her eyes cleared, an invisible hand smearing away the condensation in her clouded gaze.

“Y-Yes, Byakuya-sama?” she said, licking her lips and prompting him to grimace. She had been drooling.

His mouth remained condensed as he watched Touko’s tongue sweep over her lips, lips that caressed each other, and when she gulped, sheening saliva, a weight in his gut was knocked out of place, like the lights in a dark room suddenly flicked on.

When they first became acquainted with each other, he nearly always sent Touko on her way after exchanging only a few sentences, but more recently, Byakuya permitted Touko to be in his presence for greater lengths of time, so long as she was on standby in case he wanted something, or at least didn’t disturb him too much. They even had sane conversations sometimes. Interesting ones, in fact. Byakuya even let her feed him candy once at his bedside while he read.

However, that had been then, and even more recently than that, just her existence crept onto his nerves. Inevitable, what with them all having to spend so much time around each other. Inevitable, what with her doing things like this in front of him.

Like now, that stupid grin of hers had returned to her face, and he had to clench his fists to distract heat away from his face. He adjusted his glasses. Stuck up his chin. Pushed his shoulders back.

“Instead of loitering, why don’t you make yourself useful?” he asked her in an authoritative tone. She stirred.

“Use... ful?” repeated Touko, still partly submerged in whatever thoughts had her entranced.

“Yes, the word, not a random noise that sounds like it,” he said. He placed one hand on his hip and slightly jutted out his hips to that side. “There might be something lying around the school that could prove beneficial to me. Who knows, maybe you’ll prove yourself useful.”

For many, his remark would have got under the recipient’s skin, or pierced them in the eye and caused it to twitch, but Touko nodded and clasped her hands together. Her twitching didn’t stem from annoyance. Something quite the opposite.

“Of course!” she said, and her lips stretched out to create a nauseating-sized crescent. She cupped her cheeks with both hands. “I won’t disappoint you. I’ll prove I’m not a piece of coal, but a diamond in the rough. I’ll-”

As she spoke, her lips sprung from one extreme to another, from wide like the wingspan of a bird of prey to puckered together like a rose and back again, and Byakuya felt motion sick just watching her. Like he was losing his balance, like the ground would slip from underneath him and he might lean forward, fall into her, land his hands on her shoulders, land his chest against hers and land his mouth on her chapped pink petals of lips, even though he was standing very, very still.

Suddenly, one of his feet lurched forward, but he stopped himself from overbalancing. Something akin to pain shot up that leg to his chest. He tore his eyes off her writhing mouth and glared. Apparently, she hadn’t noticed the flicker in his demeanour, continuing to gush at him.

“Today, preferably!” he demanded, with a slight crack halfway through that he hoped she wouldn’t notice.

Touko squawked, and after a bow, she sped out of the room. Byakuya strode over to the door. He could no longer see her, and as he shut it, he let out a breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding.

Honestly, that girl was a pest. Creeping on his nerves like that...

The next time he saw Touko in the cafeteria at dinnertime. For a while, he had avoided joining the other students to eat, and though he ate with them more regularly now, he didn’t do so because he felt any sense of camaraderie with them, but so he could check on the remaining competition.

Sakura wasn’t in the cafeteria, to his approval. Monobear had recently outed her as his mole, and Byakuya had no interest in spending time around her. Whenever he was outside of his room, he had to keep checking the map on his Electronic Student ID Card to make sure she wasn’t too close by.

Aoi, Sakura’s close friend, was in the cafeteria though, and when Byakuya entered, she glared but said nothing. He needed to monitor her too, someone so easily swayed by emotion, but with the others present, she couldn’t do anything he needed to worry about. Makoto and Kyouko offered glances at him that he rebuffed, Yasuhiro chirped his name, which he ignored, and the gloomy cloud over Touko’s face parted as her smile beamed through.

Byakuya didn’t greet any of them, obtaining his dinner from the kitchen and walking straight back into the cafeteria where he seated himself at a neighbouring table to the others.

“Togami-chi!” Yasuhiro called out, even though they weren’t that far apart. “Back me up here.”

When Byakuya just continued to frown, Makoto spoke instead, raising a crooked finger.

“Hagakure-kun, I don’t think your idea will work. You’re more likely to harm yourself than corrode through anything.”

“Yeah,” went Aoi, her brows knitted together. “Why would Monobear leave us chemicals that can help us escape?”

“Because he doesn’t know the makeup of certain corrosives,” replied Yasuhiro, flapping his hand. “The mastermind probably thinks it’s not possible, ‘right? But if we get the right chemicals, we can melt through the plates covering the windows and escape.”

Touko glowered. “If you really believed that, why haven’t you already done it?”

Byakuya’s attention drifted over to Touko. Her eyes were narrowed, but he could still catch their colour - grey, tinged with violet. As she gestured with her hands, her head bobbed about, and light bounced off the lenses of her glasses, sometimes hiding her eyes from view for a moment. For such a mopey girl, she sure could flaunt a range of expressions in such a small amount of time. Then there were the times she didn’t mope. When she was with Byakuya. Those smiles. Those blushes. Those laughs, like nails down a chalkboard.

“Anyway, I looked at the contents myself,” said Touko. She wrinkled her nose. “There are supplements and poisons, none that can damage thick sheets of metal. Of course, you’re entitled to try...”

“Aw, thanks, Fukawa-chi!” said Yasuhiro brightly. Aoi growled, but it sounded a lot like a whine.

“Don’t thank her!” Aoi scolded. She angled herself toward Touko, looking annoyed. “As usual, Fukawa-chan, you’re being a big downer. At least Hagakure’s trying to help.”

Yasuhiro’s grin wavered. He hesitated. “... Um... Am I supposed to thank you, Asahina-chi?”

Touko snorted.

“Thank you?” Touko repeated with scorn.

“Wait, you’re thanking me now? Okay, I’m officially confused,” mumbled Yasuhiro, scratching his head.

“Hagakure wants praise for having this idea but doesn’t have the balls to try it,” she explained. She rolled her eyes and shifted her weight on her chair. “In fact, could it be he’s discussing it here where there are surveillance cameras because he desperately wants Monobear to overhear and stop it? Then he can think to himself, ‘my idea would have worked’ and no one would be able to dispute it.”

Everyone considered what she suggested. Touko finished up her rant by shooting a chilly look at Yasuhiro, who cowered.

Kyouko inclined her head, resting her chin in her hand. “I’ve also browsed the stock in the chemistry lab and though I’m not a scientist, I don’t think there is anything that can help us there. If anything, Monobear would want us to try for its own amusement.”

Up to this point, Byakuya had stayed out of the conversation, but now he turned his gaze to Kyouko.

“You say that, but none of us know what you are,” he said. No one knew her title. For all they knew, she could have been another mole. Kyouko glanced at him and gave a vague shrug.

After that, the conversation seemed to draw to a close. Yasuhiro pouted and resumed eating, deflated. The rest of the group followed suit. Touko huffed, and Byakuya’s eyes drifted back over to her again. She picked up her chopsticks but rather than pick at any of the rice, she twitched them in her grip, staring into space. Byakuya, holding his own chopsticks, pinched a tofu block, but he didn’t eat it, hovering it in front of his mouth while his other hand propped up his cheek. Instead of eating it, he surveyed Touko’s features. Rather than investigate what she might have been looking at for himself, he tried to figure out what she was stewing over by looking at her.

Not out of concern, of course. Curiosity. And he had a good reason for it. When he first met Touko, he dismissed her as a stuttering high school girl with a persecution complex, who wrote frivolous romance novels that many people lapped up. But there was more to her. She had an alter called Genocider Syo, who murdered various men without getting caught, but even then there was more. Much more. Despite her strange ramblings, Touko was intelligent and could even be insightful, and he had to admit she had to have talent - her novels could and did make society fall in love with fishermen, for one thing. Not everyone could create a trend like that with written words.

“Togami-chi?” said Yasuhiro.

Touko picked up a piece of tofu with her chopsticks, popped it between her lips, and returned her chopsticks to her bowl. Today, dinner was mapo tofu, a simple dish to make that could be served in one bowl. She chewed, unfocused. The sight wasn’t a pleasant one - he reasoned that was why his stomach knotted the more he studied Touko. Her lips rubbed together, her cheeks bulged and caved in at intervals, and she didn’t always close her mouth completely.

“Togami-kun?” said Makoto.

It was a disgusting sight. Disgusting, from her mole to her fluttering lashes around her grey eyes, to the grain of rice abandoned next to her lips, to -

“Togami-kun?” said Makoto again, and this time, Byakuya tensed. He looked around.

Everyone else in the cafeteria stared at him, includingTouko.

“What?” said Byakuya.

Yasuhiro draped his hand across the back of his neck.

“I think you zoned out there,” remarked Yasuhiro with a lop-sided smile as he scratched at his neck. “We were asking if you’ve been through the chemistry lab yet.”

“Is something on your mind?” Kyouko chimed in, flashing a smirk.

Heat rose to Byakuya’s face. He gritted his teeth, told them he was trying to tune out their idiocy, and resumed his dinner, contributing no more to any conversation.

Though Byakuya had Sakura and to a lesser extent Aoi to be aware of, if he hid in his room all the time, they would think they scared him and consider him an easy target. If he showed them he wasn’t afraid, then they would be wary that he was prepared for an attack.

In theory.

Byakuya planned to spend the rest of the evening in the library, but first, he took a cold shower to rejuvenate himself after getting so distracted during dinner. When he arrived at the library, he saw Touko at one of the desks. Both were avid readers, so her presence didn’t surprise him, but he paused for a few seconds.

She seemed not to have noticed him, focused on the notebook she was writing fervently in. He shut the door quietly behind himself and walked over to a bookcase, careful of his footfalls, and soon found the book he had started on his last visit, the back half of the dust jacket tucked between the pages to mark where he had last read up to. Taking it off the shelf, he seated himself at a different table where Touko lay just outside his field of vision.

However, even though he positioned himself to hide her from his view, that didn’t mean he couldn’t hear her.

One would think Touko of all people would know how to behave in a library, but she mumbled unintelligibly under her breath. Her mutterings would warble, in pitch, or volume, or both, grating like the squeak of fingers down a window. He tried to concentrate on the shallow detective novel in his possession, but his mind kept resurfacing. Peppered in were coughs, and as time wore on, each noise throbbed in the back of his head. Sometimes, she sniffed or gulped and he could visualise her lips twisting, see her stubby-nailed hand nudging up her glasses and her face scrunching up for seconds at a time.

At one point, she panted, and his mind conjured an image of Touko, pink and sweaty, licking her lips before leaning over the desk toward him, their eyes shutting slowly...

Byakuya set down his book. With his shoulders slightly slouched forward, he wiped the heel of his palm up his forehead, trying to scrape off the mental image manifesting in his mind. Touko released a whine, low, bubbling. Bubbling in her throat, bubbling in his chest. The noise coiled around him. Gripped his neck and tightened, and then he realised his thighs were clenched together. Had been. Still were.

He soared to his feet. His chair rasped and fell backward. She shrieked and popped into view.

“B-Byakuya-sama!” she said, a pen clasped tightly in her fist. Fear dissolved into elation. “I t-thought I smelled you...!”

“You obviously knew I was here,” he snapped. “That’s why you were making those disgusting noises.”

She clapped her hands over her mouth. Whacked herself in the face with her pen by doing so. “I-If I’d known you were here, I would have controlled myself!”

Byakuya jutted out his chin. The back of his eyes burned.

“You knew what you were doing the whole time. I’m telling you, you won’t get to me so... so just give up!” he snarled.

And with that, he trounced out of the library. Trying to concentrate in such a dusty, dim environment was hard enough without her spluttering and snivelling too. Those noises disgusted him. Still did. As they should.

As he approached his room, he slowed down. Almost stopped halfway down the last corridor.

Touko’s noises hadn’t always provoked such vivid imagery.

For the next few days, Byakuya did his best to avoid her, but that proved difficult with everyone forced to share the same facility, the same space. The only places he could be sure to avoid her were in his dorm and in the male changing room, but he could only spend so long sitting on his bed or a wooden bench in a tiled room. Therefore, every day, they both bumped into each other in the same dining room, where she contorted her face and slurped on her own saliva, they met in the same classrooms where she cooed his name and drooled, and they sat in the same library, where she licked her lips and giggled to herself. Him getting distracted by her was bad enough, but the situation worsened when she realised he was watching her. When that happened, she would set her eyes on him and grin widely and babble and squeeze her hands together.

One night, he went to the sauna to unwind after finishing a book in his room, but when he passed through the noren and emerged into the locker room, feeling sure he would be alone here, he halted and lost all thought.

Across the room stood Touko, her hair freed from her practical braids, now a dark, shimmering sheet hugging her skinny frame.

Her hair, right now, was not straw-like, not wild or tamed into braids, but smooth and unrestrained. He could run his fingers through them with ease. Curl a lock around his finger, if he wanted.

The room was properly lit, and he stiffened as he noticed Touko was in just a towel. Touko lacked her glasses and seemed to squint as she fiddled with the top of the towel that covered her chest. He stared, frozen, silent. Blank.

She lifted her head a smidgen, though she still didn’t appear to have perceived him despite her previous boasts about her sense of smell, and the movement, to his horror, made her towel shift. Drop slightly. Thankfully, not enough to show anything.

Byakuya swallowed. Correction. All this was mostly to his horror. To a certain part of his body, it seemed to be to the opposite of that. Horror.

He backed out. All throughout this, she didn’t indicate that she had detected him, and he wanted to keep it that way. On his way back to his room, striding as fast as he could without running, he didn’t cross paths with anyone, and he closed the door behind himself as soon as he got inside.

At least now he could be by himself. Be somewhere she couldn’t get to. Byakuya took his glasses off and lay down on the bed, facing upward, not bothering to change out of his uniform. He shut his eyes. His chest heaved like the sea before a storm.

Here, in the dark, alone, he could rid himself of Touko. Touko... with her long, mahogany hair, styled in twin braids that together with her owl-eye glasses and dark purple sailor uniform, was entirely fitting for someone enrolled at the school with the title of Super High School Level Literary Girl. Not only that, but she smelled like an old, damp book too, now that he was thinking about it. He had found her stench putrid at first, and his insistence that she washed herself was not unjustified, but, he thought, he had since become used to her aroma, a consequence of them being in close quarters for so long. One had to adapt to survive.

So while before he spurned her smell, though it still made him wince, he could stand it. Even if it was still just as disgusting, musty...!

Byakuya paused. Her trip to the sauna would have stripped that smell from Touko’s body, and as he lay in bed, he thought about her standing in the locker room, clad only in a... a towel. Even now, he could see her, with her furrowed brow and trembling lips. Could see her hair cascade forward, pile either side of him. See her face light up as her gaze fell on him, as she drank in his presence. He reached up but his hands phased through where she was, because she wasn’t there. The apparition of her relaxed and smirked, straddling him, and stooped her head.

The towel slipped. Byakuya flinched.

Too much. He imagined her back in her uniform. Even slapped on her braids. And yet, that didn’t deter her. Him. She smiled coyly, drawing a circle on his chest. Smiled that disgusting smile of hers, that oozed saliva, and laughed a low and throaty laugh.

Byakuya swallowed. Shivered. She glided her hand lower.

With a sigh, he pushed the back of his head deeper into his pillow, then froze. The saliva from Touko’s ghost receded from his face and she disappeared from over him. Byakuya jerked his hand away from his crotch. Revulsion dug its claws into the back of his throat. He stumbled out of bed and went to the adjoined bathroom where he splashed water on his face.

This couldn’t go on. Something had to be done. Byakuya couldn’t let himself fall victim to any more of her ploys.

Even after he gulped in air and steadied himself, grasping the edge of the sink, his heart still hammered away. And because he was locked up inside this place, he couldn’t go out for fresh air or even open a window.

He tried the corridor, but it felt almost as oppressive as his room.

Everyone would probably be in their rooms now. Byakuya decided to prepare himself a cup of tea. That would at least give him something to focus on, if only temporarily. The cafeteria was shut, but he knew there were tea bags in the storage room. His footsteps echoed a bit, but he didn’t falter. Kept his eyes forward.

When he arrived outside of the storage room, he squared his shoulders, trying to flake off the tension in his body, and opened the door.

Any hopes of distracting himself were quashed when his gaze fell on Touko.

Fortunately, she was fully dressed in her sailor uniform.

She rose sharply out of her crouched form and turned toward the door, eyes wide. Frightened. Relief flooded through her features as she realised who had made the door creak.

“Byakuya-sama?” she said, some surprise still lingering on her face. Apparently, she wasn’t completely put at ease.

Of all the spots she could have stood in, she had stationed herself at the shelving unit where he recalled there to be boxes of rose hip tea bags. His eyes stayed on her as he sauntered over. Touko didn’t retreat, dodge to the side or cower, watching him just as closely, even as he stopped in front of her. She tipped back her head to fit his face in her vision. Had the audacity to blush.

“It’s late, isn’t it?” she said, loosening up enough for a smirk. “Everyone else will be asleep... unaware of what transpires here...”

He breathed in. Her usual smell of books was gone. Of course it was. Touko had been at the public bath. In its place, he picked up a faint scent of lilac, mixed with a creamy, vanilla and almond-like fragrance.

Now, in theory this should have been an improvement. People preferred a fresh, floral smell to an old, worn book left out on a rainy day. Yet, when her new smell wafted up his nose, it felt acidic. Wrong.

“Are you okay, Byakuya-sama?” she asked, losing the smirk. She kneaded her fingers. “Y-Your face... You look unwell...! Do I need to nurse you?”

The double entendre must have been intended because her lips squirmed with pleasure, curling up at the ends. Byakuya’s face tensed. Touko always had some quip or remark ready for him that often left him at a loss for words. Also, she was in no position to comment on his face when she had hers, with wide, bulging eyes, chapped lips and a twitching nose. She even had the nerve to chuckle and continue twiddling her fingers.

“What about your face?” he sneered. “Your wide, bulging eyes... chapped lips... and twitching nose.”

That knocked her grin off. Concern troubled her features now.

“S-Should I get plastic surgery?” she asked, fidgeting more.

“It’s not just your face, it’s your personality too.” Byakuya raised his voice slightly. “You think you’re clever, trying to seduce me. And stop playing with your fingers like that!”

He grabbed her wrists. Touko jumped. The skin under her wide eyes was stained the colour of milk tea, shadows that stood out on her pale face. His hold on her arms slackened, but she didn’t even attempt to shake him off. A shred of teeth peeked out between her lips, and that familiar sensation of nausea rolled in the pit of his stomach. Fogged his head. Made his nerves vibrate with electricity.

She was disgusting. Vile. Sickening, and absolutely irresistible.

Acting on impulse, he leaned in.

Byakuya led with his tongue and slipped it into her mouth, and it was perhaps luck that she didn’t bite down in surprise. Touko gasped. The inside of her mouth tasted sour: her tongue, her teeth and her hot breath, yet though he shuddered, he didn’t withdraw. She didn’t shy away either despite the painfully amateur kiss, rooted in place.

Their glasses unceremoniously clacked together and remained askew afterwards. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer and knocking their glasses even more out of place. From the onset of the kiss, his skin crawled at how bits of plaque fell loose from her teeth, how already too much saliva crashed together in their mouths and how everything was warm and moist, but rather than deter him, he melted into her. She hugged him back, breathing noisily. For a third time, their glasses got in the way, but this time, Byakuya had enough sense to remove his glasses, then hers, placing them on a shelf while maintaining the kiss, and he eagerly returned his hands to her body.

Touko adjusted her angle. Her nose bumped against his but they took it in stride. Panting, she shifted more, pulling back a little to give them a second to breathe. His tongue receded from her mouth.

A second was all that both allowed.

Their lips reunited within moments, slobbering over each other. Revolting. Incredible. He could only taste saliva. A lot of it. As they kissed harder, they grew clumsy, and their lips fell in and out of place. At one point, some of her hair slipped between them. To remove it, he licked and scratched lightly at her face with his hand, all while continuing to kiss her, and once he could no longer feel it tangling on his tongue, he pushed his lips more firmly into hers.

Touko’s lips stayed shut, and his tongue remained in his mouth. This way seemed to work better, without the tongue. Both of them groaned, clinging to the other. He opened his eyes briefly, but he couldn’t see anything in particular, just her face within a haze, so he shut them again. Besides, he didn’t need to use his eyes for this. His eyes being closed didn’t prevent him from feeling her hands slither up and cup his cheeks. Didn’t stop him from rolling his lips over hers.

They stood still, barely moving, just breathing, existing, with Touko’s back pressing against the shelving unit behind her, but after a while, the buildup of saliva became too much and he withdrew. He rather ungraciously released her and swallowed without thinking, cringing immediately at all the saliva.

Opposite him, Touko placed her fingers lightly against her lips.

“What...?” she mumbled, dazed.

Byakuya’s breaths racked through his body, and he wanted to say that he had slipped and fallen for her. Into her. Fallen into her.

He really needed to get some sleep.

“There. Are you satisfied now?” he asked curtly, and he grabbed his glasses off the shelf. Then he seized a box of tea bags. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

His footfalls barked as he stomped away. The door creaked as he opened it.

“W-Well...” Touko went, and he made the mistake of hesitating. “If... I wanted to just kiss you... I’d have asked, got rejected and picked up the pieces… or j-just stayed in my room and imagined it. B-But I just want to be with you... really... even if we don’t kiss...”

Byakuya shuddered. She just had to go say something gross like that.

“Shut up,” he said, and he left.

He kept a kettle in his room and after half a cup of tea, he lay on his bed again, staring at the ceiling in thought. After getting all of that out of the way, he had thought he would be satisfied. That maybe the uneasy feelings in him would subside.

But after a sleepless night, he realised his feelings had just got worse.

#togafuka #touko fukawa #byakuya togami #danganronpa #toko fukawa #togafukaweek2020 #fanfiction #one shot #togafukaweek

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redfire-blackash-whitegold · 5 years ago

Text

Blessed are the Vagrant

It’s not unheard of, someone getting lost on a heist. It doesn’t even necessarily denote a heist gone wrong, though it is usually one that’s gone somewhat sideways. Someone gets injured, or separated, or temporarily caught by some non-police entity, or else they just miss their transport and have to take the long way around the cops in order to get home.

In this case it was an injury, though only a light concussion and minor head blood. Ryan woke up in a vineyard, though how he got there, he couldn’t remember. He could remember everything else, his name, his crew, he even remembered the better part of the heist. They were targeting a rich estate out just northwest of Vinewood Hills, small crew, low cops, mostly just personal security to watch out for. He remembered all that fine, just not how he ended up with a head wound out in the grapes.

Ryan took off his jacket and mask and threw them over the fence where they wouldn’t be found immediately by seasonal workers checking on the vines. It was still spring and the vines had been recently pruned, though the leaves were starting to bud and spread out again. The farmhouse was close, on the bottom of the hill separate from the winery that looked down on it from above. Ryan brushed off the dirt on his jeans, but there was no way to really get clean under the circumstances. His head hurt, and his eyes felt blurry like he wasn’t wearing his contacts, though he knew he must be based on how dry his eyes were after having slept with them in.

It was maybe six in the morning, from what Ryan could tell. The sun had just come up and the sky was a pale, cool blue. It was slightly chilly with the morning but it was clearly on track to becoming a nice day. He knocked on the door of the farmhouse. The sound of metal clanging and the slight smell of natural gas suggested that someone was cooking inside. The noise stopped for a second and the front door opened, revealing an old woman, slightly hunched over, wearing a hand-knit sweater and a long skirt. She moved slowly but was alert, and she took in the sight in front of her quickly.

“I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am, but I can’t seem to get any service around here, and was wondering if I could use your phone,” Ryan said.

“Oh my goodness!” The woman replied. “You’re bleeding! Come in, come in, we should get that looked at right away.”

She motioned him in, and walked urgently as she could to a cupboard to retrieve a bin full of bandaids and creams. Ryan stepped in very slightly before taking a quick look around, looking for people, danger, weapons. The farmhouse was small, and ancient. It opened into the kitchen, and had an awkward layout that had a single wall separate the kitchen from the living room that was complete with the kind of old easy-chairs that you might expect to see in an older home. There didn’t seem to be any indication of anyone else living there, and no immediate danger, so he walked in to the landing and kicked off his shoes.

“You must have had quite the night,” the woman said. Ryan cringed slightly and started to speak, before she cut him off. “Uh uh uh, I don’t want to hear it. Whatever brought you here is none of my business. I’d rather not ask at all then hear some half-baked excuse.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Now now, none of that ‘ma’am’ business, I know I’m old. Call me Gran, it’s what the kids at the wineshop call me,” Said Gran. “Come, sit here, make yourself comfortable, let me take a look at your forehead.”

She tended to his wound and Ryan, somewhat out of it from the concussion, let her. She had been getting ready to cook pancakes on the stove when he arrived, and so and offered him some, which he hungrily accepted. Gran also offered him a shower, which Ryan was much more hesitant to accept.

“Oh, of course, that must be strange, taking a shower in some stranger’s home. You really should get cleaned up though, I’ll give you a washcloth and I’ll throw your clothes into the wash. You should fit into my husband’s old clothes, rest his soul, and then I can give you a drive back into the city when they’re ready.” Gran explained that she didn’t have a landline or a phone of her own, and the winery was closed and locked for the day. “I haven’t had a key to that place since that big corporation bought us out and did all these renovations a few years back. They kept me on as an official owner, but it’s just a figurehead position.”

“It must be tough to not have a part in it anymore,” Ryan said.

“It is, it is, but they are paying me well enough, so I can live out my retirement in comfort. It gives me more time for my hobbies.”

In exchange for the pancakes, Gran put Ryan to work around the house. She said that one of the neighbours liked to check in on her that normally helped out, but it had been a few days and some work needed to be done. She had Ryan doing some cleaning, mostly dusting the lights and ceiling fans as well as the baseboards, places up high and low that were difficult for her with her low mobility. She had him gardening as well, weeding her front garden bed, which was slightly overgrown but still well cared for, and chopping down a few branches off of trees that hung over her gravel driveway so that cars wouldn’t drive into them. The compost pile was out behind the house and a ways away, and along the way were a few grape vines growing wildly along a freestanding wire fence. These plants were further along than the ones in the vineyard; the vines that had been pruned away were almost completely grown back, and they hung down far enough that they almost touched the ground. There was a slight smell of rotting, and the ground was dark and soft from where fresh compost had recently been added on top of the roots.

Ryan spent a few minutes tucking the long vines into the fence so that they looked less wild. It was pretty different from the kind of work he was used to. Cleaning, sure, he had been cleaning things his entire life, from vacuuming the penthouse to cleaning up crime scenes, he was familiar with being thorough. But gardening, or farming, that was new. It was a nice feeling, nurturing something that was alive, being outside in the fresh air away from the city noise.

“You did a lovely job there, and I didn’t even ask you to do it,” Gran appeared behind him. “You didn’t rip a single leaf.”

“I don’t think it’s for me, in the long run.”

“No, I suppose not.” Gran said. “In any case, it’s time for lunch. I’ve made tea and sandwiches.”

Ryan sat down at the breakfast nook, and Gran put out a large serving plate with a number of sandwiches cut into neat triangles onto the table for them to take from, along with two mugs of black tea and some plates.

“This looks great thanks,” Ryan said and took a sip of his tea. “I’d be happy to clean the dishes afterwords.”

“Thank you dear, I think I’ll manage on my own. You worry about lunch.”

The two ate mostly in silence, far more interested in the food than the conversation. Ryan was normally a fast eater, but he started to slow down as time went on. His movements in general were slower and slower, and his eyes became less focused, far worse than what the concussion did to him. He tried to stand up, but ended up on the floor instead.

“Well, it’s about time now isn’t it?” Gran said. “Dreadfully sorry about this dear, but at my age, I just can’t afford to pick up someone from the city. At least I doubt anyone will miss you.”

“What did you do to me?”

“Just a little poison in the tea, not enough to kill you just yet. I just so rarely get to do this anymore, I’ve found myself spending more and more time with my guests lately.”

“You sound like you’re talking about bridge night, not serial murder,” Ryan said. He smiled, almost proud. “Forgive me if this sounds rude, but how are you moving the bodies around? You don’t seem like you could do it on your own.”

“My dear husband used to help me with these things, but he introduced me to a friend of his before he died that helps me from time to time.”

“Ah, I thought as much,” Ryan said, and neatly stood up. Gran gasped in surprise. “I should get going quickly then, before he gets here. I’m in no condition for a fight.”

“How is it not affecting you?” Gran moved her chair back from the table, but didn’t stand up.

“The poison wasn’t in the tea, it was in the sandwiches. You might have risked a nervous visitor like me not drinking strange liquids, but the sandwich pile would have been seen as safe to eat, since you were eating from the same pile,” Ryan said. “If you had only poisoned some, you would have risked me eating the wrong ones, as well as forgetting which were safe for yourself. The better bet is to just poison them all and take the antitoxin while I was still out in the yard. So I just took the antitoxin myself while I was dusting the bathroom.”

“How did you know?”

“Well I couldn’t find the antitoxin for the longest time, until I stumbled across your medicine cabinet,” Ryan said. “Pill bottles are a great way to hide something like that, and it would be easy for you to remember that way. Take this pill before bed, this pill before dinner, this pill before killing. I wasn’t completely sure which was the antitoxin, so I just took one of everything. I’m prooobably going to have an interesting night tonight. Oh, and then I switched around all the pill bottles so all your drugs are labeled wrong. In other words, chances are decent that you just took some kind of heart medication instead of the anti.” Sure enough, Gran was looking pale and was moving slow.

“Oh, sorry, did you mean how did I know that I was in danger?” Ryan continued, starting to enjoy it more. “You have spots of old blood inbetween your floorboards, you adapted way too quickly to a large man covered in blood at your door, and my cellphone had service not a ten minute walk from here last night. Probably the most damning, of course was your compost pile, though I wouldn’t have had enough time to notice before lunch if that’s all I was going off of. I know the smell of rotting human, and it’s different from the smell of rotting leaves. Dreadfully sorry Gran, but you made just one mistake. I’m not just some vagrant like the ones you and your husband used to pick up. You don’t have a TV or computer so you probably wouldn’t know.

“I’m THE vagrant. The Vagabond”

#fahc #fake ah crew #fahc ryan

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toothedsmile · 5 years ago

Text

The new demon: Chapter three

Chapter three: A new place to call home

A/N: So uhhh, i was writing and i couldn’t stop, so here’s an over 2200 words chapter i guess.

Warnings: Decriptions of murder (twice) some groping (though it ends with death 1)

Prologue/Chapter one, Chp2

Meeting Alastor was quite a surprise. Besides the fact that he was very polite and well-mannered, there was just something not right with him, and you could know because that’s what other people had with you, just less frightening.

It was just a little while after your small conversation with him and watching the news about the ‘Happy Hotel’ the princess wanted to open that you decided to continue with your walk around hell.

Everywhere you looked there was something going on, a fight, a hooker doing it with some random demon in the alleyway or just a dead body that was being eaten by the tiny demons that seemed very happy for a meal.

It was pretty chaotic, but you didn’t really mind, except the hookers. Please be quit, it was annoying enough that you had a neighbour like that let alone hearing that dumb shit when you just wanted to walk around.

Not that you couldn’t silence them, you did that too with that dick from next door, he got what he deserved, perhaps if they annoyed you too much then you could take care of it in the same manner, though that would be impolite but who even cares down here? No one that’s who.

But enough of non-existent problems, you had a real one to take care of, getting a place to sleep!

‘But first some sort of weapon, like a knife! Can’t steal a house or something if the previous owner is still alive right?’

While walking you looked around to see if there was some sort of rich person walking around that could help you in getting you a house, and money, money is very important.

Finally having though of a plan you set it into action.

There you walked through the masses, face insecure, hands in front of yourself, eyes glancing left and right but always looking downwards and making yourself seem smaller.

That would surely get some attention of some dumbass hot shot around these places that was looking for a good time. Well in your case anyways.

While looking you catch the eyes of someone in the reflection of a window.

The sclera of both eyes completely black with red irises, your own eyes went up and down their body as theirs did and you saw that they had S/T skin, their lips a L/C colour and healthy looking H/C hair. Yet as you looked closer you could see that their wasn’t like any normal hair, no, it was seemingly floating, looking like a bunch of smoke that stayed together. With every head movement it swayed with it, leaving little wisps of smoke who vanished into the surrounding air and out of their hair poked out two small black horns, tiny but sharp.

And their clothing, oh my, you liked it. It was completely your kind of style, with the same colour shade as most of the surroundings in Hell.

And while it took you a little while, you finally managed to notice that they made the exact same movements as you did! When it finally came trough you felt so stupid, it was your reflection.

Your hand moved up to your face, as you pinched the top of your nose with two fingers, disappointed with how long it took before you noticed your reflection, you felt that your nails were quite sharp, focusing your attention on them you noticed that they had the same colour as your skin and that they were pitch black, like the absence of light, from each knuckle, giving them the look as if they were very long.

Shaking yourself out of your little stupor you kept walking the same way you had planned, before you interrupted yourself with your own reflection.

It took barely a minute of walking before someone already thought of you as an easy prey, for both cash and a little bit of “fun” as they mostly say.

A loud wolf whistle came from one of the many alleyways, there stood a demon leaning against the wall while smoking. They wore pretty proper clothing and even some jewellery, probably to boast their money.

“Come ‘ere for a second pretty lady. I don’t bite, hard.”

Internally you rolled your eyes but managed to stay in your façade with your hands in front of your body and biting your lip as if you were a little afraid you walked towards them and entered the dark alleyway. Surprisingly the sounds that used to surround you on the streets had lessened a considerable amount which was both good and bad.

“Look me in the eyes doll, I want to get a good look before I tear you apart in more ways than one.” His deep chuckle seemingly echoed around the alleyway.

Obeying to what he said you looked him in the eyes, having managed to moisten your eyes to make it seem as if you were ready to cry.

“L-look, I don’t w-want any trouble, i-I don’t have any money, I’m…I’m use-useless.” You pleaded with the demon who only laughed at your stuttering and how you were afraid of him. It was exactly what he expected of you. A scared new little demon who didn’t have anything and couldn’t do anything so he could do whatever he wanted with you.

‘Filthy piece of shit, just get closer so I can tEaR You ApArt in defiantly more than one way. I need money and I really want to test these nails, well more claws but-. I should continue listening.’

“Ohoho, that doesn’t matter. I’ll, maybe, let you go if you give a really good time.”

With his hand he beckoned you closer to him and once again you did what he said, with hesitating steps you walked right in front of him. The alleyway wasn’t really wide so when you stood there you were almost chest to, well almost chest, he was quite large and broad.

He smirked approvingly at your obeyance. His hands grabbed your waist as he pulled you against him, one of his hands quickly went towards your ass and the other right above it. He started groping you and inside you felt disgusted but his guard needed to go down just a little bit, just until he closes his eyes.

“You’re allowed to touch if you want, gives ya higher chances on me not killing you after hahaha!”

And touch you did, but not yet in a murderous way, just a little closer.

Your own hands went up his chest, where one of them stayed and the other went behind his neck, softly grabbing it to bring him down towards yourself.

“C-can, can I at least g-get a kiss?” Pleadingly you looked him in the eyes, once again biting your lip to entice him even more. His own eyes were filled with lust, not a single rational thought was in his mind.

You brought your own lips closer, feigning that you were closing your eyes as he followed your example, when you both almost touched and he had his eyes fully closed you went for the kill.

You pressed your hand, that was on his chest, as harshly as possible forward, dragging it immediately down, leaving tear marks as they started gushing blood.

Your other hand clenched with your nails inward, lodging themselves in his neck, spattering blood around.

His eyes had shot open from your first attack and as they looked at you, all he could see was the gigantic smile on your face that had splatters of blood on it.

“Sorry but you see, I’m a new resident here and I really needed to find a place to live. So why not yours?”

You pushed him aside once he became heavier, with a big thud he fell on the ground, dying as he choked on his own blood. Your smile had dimmed a little, now only being softly present on your face. Crouching down you looked in the pockets of his coat and pants, finding some keys, a wallet and some loose money.

“I’m so glad you called to me, you know? I wasn’t really planning on going in these places by myself, don’t want to stumble on a hooker and their client , now would I?” In the meantime you had taken his jewellery and coat that was, while big, not really filthy, so you took it for yourself as it seemed comfy as well.

“Now I wish to thank you for your cooperat- oh, he’s dead. Now that’s a pity, I could’ve had more fun! Oh wel.”

With a solemn sigh you stood back up and wiped the little bit of dust from your clothing before putting on your new coat, you were correct, it was quite comfortable and big but that was an added bonus.

You walked back out on the streets, wiping you face with a clean tissue that you also had found in his coat. Others noticed your appearance but didn’t do anything about it, most likely already knowing what happened.

Stopping for a second and standing at a wall as to not be in the way of others you took out the keys and looked at them. It was very convenient that he had labelled some of his keys, one of them was apparently a motorcycle, the one for his house was also labelled and with a street and house number, how handy!

‘Seems like he really can’t remember stuff well. Oh! Maybe he came here with his motorcycle.’

You looked around to see if there was a motorcycle and lo and behold! There stood one, not too far away from the now murder scene. But it seemed as if someone else really wanted it too from the way they tried to break the lock on the wheel.

You stepped closer to them and once close enough to be noticed the person looked up.

“The fuck do you want girly?”

You were quite annoyed from what you previously had to do so you were a little snappy.

“What I want if for you to get the fuck away from my motorcycle and maybe we won’t have a problem if YoU LeaVe NOW.”

Your appearance started changing when you got angry, your hair seemingly moving like a fire bursting a little when you spoke a bit harsher, your teeth got sharper, your voice deeper and your eyes became completely black, leaking some of the smoke that is normally your hair.

It floated down to the face of the demon, who hadn’t stood up yet from his crouching position, once he caught a whiff of it he started chocking, grasping at his throat while blood came from his nose then his ears and finally he went silent as his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he fell down with a dull thud.

‘The fuck did I do now? How did- the fuck?’

Demons who had seen the accident averted their eyes and avoided you like the plague.

Kicking the body out of the way you took a key that was labelled ‘lock’ and took away said lock from the motorcycle.

You sat on the motor and put in the key, readying yourself to leave before you remembered that you had no idea where the house was.

Taking out the phone that you already had unlocked with the (somehow) fingerprint of the now dead guy and already had changed the settings so it took your fingerprint only, you searched for some sort of equivalent of google maps.

Eventually you found it and put in the address from the label, you put the phone on some sort of holder that was attached to the handlebar.

Now you were ready to go, turning the keys you revved the motor and left, your wheels squeaking slightly by your speed.

While riding you took notice of the fact that there was a limousine riding around, looking out of one of the windows was your very first “conversation partner” Angel Dust, who perked up when he saw you riding slower to ride next to the window.

Once he had lowered it you spoke your greetings.

“Why hello there Angel! It is nice seeing you again!”

Angels smiled slightly back and quirked an eyebrow.

“Hey there toots, since when did ya get a motorcycle?”

Smiling proudly at the fact that he noticed you gave a quick rundown of what happened.

“Well you see, it had an owner and now I own it. I just had to make some things clear but they won’t ever want this baby back.”

He caught on quickly and let out a small chuckle. “Well I’d talk to ya more but I got an angry bitch staring at my ass. Come stop by at the hotel and I’ll treat ya to something real nice. If you pay high enough of course.”

You giggled, who knew when he had some more time he could be pretty nice as well.

“Alright, I’ll leave you alone with the rabid dog. The Happy Hotel right? I’ll come in like, minimum an hour, I’ve got to check something, if I like it enough I’ll bring you with me some day?”

Smirking he nodded, probably thinking you wanted to do what he was usually paid to do. You waved one last time before revving up the gas and speeding by the car.

You almost went by the street but you turned just in time, you drove a little slower and looked at the house number.

When you finally got the right number you stopped and got of the motorcycle.

“Now this, is what I would call a very nice house.”

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tiramisiyu · 4 years ago

Text

Tears of Themis: Main Story 4-3 Translation

Translated parts:

Chapter 4 – Heart’s Fire: 4-1 / 4-3 / 4-5 / 4-6 / 4-8 / 4-9 / 4-11 / 4-12 / 4-13 / 4-15 / 4-17 / 4-18

Translation Masterlist: here

Video: https://www.bilibili.com/video/BV1s5411b7Yu?p=2

Zuo Ran’s Office

Cui Yuan, the suspect of Huang Haochu’s murder, is right now in custody at the police station. Lu Jinghe had reserved to meet him at 9:00 AM tomorrow.

I returned to the law firm, planning to check the archives for this case’s file. Plus, I also had to discuss adjusting my work hours with Zuo Ran.

I told Zuo Ran about the situation regarding how I was going to meet with Lu Jinghe. After listening, Zuo Ran had a hard-to-describe expression…

Zuo Ran: …

MC: Lawyer Zuo, does this case… have problems?

Zuo Ran: Lu Jinghe’s reasoning was that having the Lu family’s lawyers appear would cause trouble?

MC: That’s right.

MC: He actually did seem to be very embarrassed. On the surface, the lives of wealthy people seem to have no bounds, but the difficulties and sadnesses they face are hard to be experienced by outsiders.

Zuo Ran: …

Zuo Ran looked like he wanted to say something, but in the end, he just sighed.

MC: …?

Zuo Ran: You can try taking over for this case. Huang Haochu’s murder case is one of the cases in X-Note.

Zuo Ran: Its number is NXX-1036. Its priority ranking is not that high. It’s considered a mental disorder case.

MC: Mental disorder?! Does this refer to… Huang Haochu’s depression?

Zuo Ran: That’s right. Because of the pressure of public opinion, Huang Haochu suffered from depression.

Zuo Ran: After receiving treatment, though it can’t be said that he got better, but he also shouldn’t have had a tendency to want to commit suicide.

Zuo Ran: But the police maintain that Cui Yuan assisted Huang Haochu in his suicide. In this explanation, there should be something hidden.

As Zuo Ran said this, he opened the file for Case 1036 and projected it on the workbench.

MC: The murder weapon of Huang Haochu’s murder is Cui Yuan’s tie.

MC: Plus, based on the monitor at his house’s main door, the only one who came in and out was also only Cui Yuan.

MC: When Huang Haochu was discovered, the sofa cushion beside his hand was scratched until it was worn out. This shows that it was caused by suffocation.

MC: The police inferred from this that Huang Haochu was willing to die, so they arrived at the conclusion that Cui Yuan assisted in Huang Haochu’s suicide.

Zuo Ran: This is just one of the bases. The forensic report has even more detailed evidence.

Zuo Ran: Additionally, police found cyanide in Huang Haochu’s book table drawer. It confirms that Huang Haochu did consider suicide.

MC: Cyanide?

MC: Such a highly poisonous drug can’t be obtained by normal methods.

I continued to flip through the NXX-1036 records. In the timeline for Huang Haochu’s depression, I noticed a new name - Yuan Ting.

MC: This Yuan Ting was… Huang Haochu’s care worker?

Zuo Ran: In treatment of depression, a family member or friend is needed to accompany them. But Huang Haochu did not marry - he was always single.

Zuo Ran: So after his sickness, Cui Yuan found a professional care worker for him to accompany him by having conversations and relieving boredom.

MC: Cui Yuan so meticulously cared for Huang Haochu’s life. He definitely would not do as the media stated as truth (?) and let Huang Haochu be the scapegoat.

MC: The way he treated Huang Haochu is also full of contradictions.

Zuo Ran: Huang Haochu had the identity of being a partner of the auction house. No matter if it’s him or Cui Yuan, neither could confess to swapping the auctioned items.

Zuo Ran: Otherwise, the loss caused to Leinster would be unbearable.

Zuo Ran: But at that time, Huang Haochu was already being watched by the media. Having all fingers pointed to one person is at least better than both people being condemned to eternal damnation.

MC: Cui Yuan just wanted to save whatever was possible, but who would’ve thought that in the end, it would even result in one’s death…

MC: Right, this Yuan Ting - where did he go when the crime happened?

Zuo Ran: Taking a day off. He went on vacation to the neighbouring province.

Zuo Ran: Forensics concluded, Huang Haochu’s murder was at last year, November 12th, between 6PM to 12AM.

Zuo Ran: Huang Haochu’s death was discovered on November 13th early morning, around 7AM.

Zuo Ran: The worker who has long been dispatched to deliver fresh produce deliveries for the Huang house knew that Huang Haochu had depression.

Zuo Ran: He noticed no one was at home, and he couldn’t get through to Huang Haochu’s phone, so he called police out of vigilance.

Zuo Ran: Yuan Ting returned in advance after receiving the police’s contact.

X-Note’s records were consistent with the archives in the police’s big data centre.

Thus, under this situation where no new evidence came out, Cui Yuan really could not avoid suspicion. The murder weapon, the murder timing, all of it pointed to him.

As for the motive of committing the crime, whether it was from a quarrel as the media said, or as the police concluded - assisted suicide, either explanation made sense.

Lu Jinghe wanting to overturn the police’s conclusion in such a short time, is way too hard…

MC: Right, Lu Jinghe, he…

Could he be a member of the NXX investigation group?

I wanted to ask Zuo Ran, but after seeing his probing eyes, I hesitated.

I haven’t yet agreed to be added by Zuo Ran into the investigation group yet. Asking this kind of thing… probably wasn’t quite right?

Zuo Ran: You wanted to ask, is Lu Jinghe a member of the investigation team?

At the end, I still got seen through by Zuo Ran. I embarrassedly nodded.

MC: I know this isn’t something I should ask. Lawyer Zuo, you don’t have to tell me.

Zuo Ran: Why guess at Lu Jinghe's identity? Just because he’s the executive CEO of Pax?

MC: At the beginning I thought - Pax funding the establishment of NXX was something that Lu Jinghe could not have been unaware of.

MC: But when he reached out about this case 1036, if Lu Jinghe was a member of the investigation team, then his behaviour would make even more sense.

MC: He was eager to investigate, which was likely due to being afraid that clues would be lost after a sentence was announced for the case.

MC: Not using the power of the Lu family was because NXX’s investigations are a secret.

Zuo Ran: Just now, I was even worried that your occasional simpleness would make it easy for you to suffer losses. Now I see that it wasn’t necessary.

MC: Eh? Lawyer Zuo, earlier you didn’t look so good - was it because you were worried about me?

Zuo Ran very unnaturally turned away his line of sight…

Zuo Ran:...

MC: (Lawyer Zuo really is a very considerate senior, he’s just not very good at showing it.)

MC: Don’t worry. Basically because I haven’t yet been added into NXX, Lu Jinghe hasn’t said clearly that we’re investigating 1036. He wasn’t hiding it on purpose.

MC: Besides, his sad expression… no matter how you look at it, it doesn’t look like he’s acting.

Though I had a certain answer in my heart, Lu Jinghe’s identity still made me feel that it wasn’t quite true.

He could be a relaxed artist, an unrestrainable rich family’s young master - not a single bit was like that of a member of a secret investigation group.

MC: Lawyer Zuo, have some confidence in me. If i were really stupid, always getting tricked and suffering losses, how could I have been your partner?

Zuo Ran: Sheesh, you…

Zuo Ran: Have you finished considering that thing? Will or won’t you join NXX?

MC: If I can prove that X03A wasn’t just one case with Gong Cheng, but it was instead it was with Heirson, as well as more businesses related to the production of illegal drugs.

MC: Even if it’s dangerous, I hope that Lawyer Zuo can allow me to enter NXX.

MC: I want to help more people like Qiao Qiao. I want to prevent Qiao Qiao’s tragedy from repeating.

Zuo Ran: Very good. I didn’t find the wrong person.

Zuo Ran: X03A has already been sent to Pax for a chemical assay. We’ll be able to get a detailed report after a bit of time.

Zuo Ran: Before that happens, if you want to look through more information, I can give you authorization to access internal data for NXX.

Zuo Ran: Find a time for me to bring you to the base, to input your identification info.

MC: That’s great.

MC: Right, Lawyer Zuo, does Stellis City really have so many case files? The case numbers have already reached four digits.

I’d wanted to ask this question ever since I saw the identification number 1036.

Stellis City’s law and order system was one of the best in the country. Not even considering murder cases, just public security cases were significantly lower in number compared to other cities.

Zuo Ran: Not necessarily. I mostly organize missing persons cases; their identification numbers are all three digits.

Zuo Ran: Cases relating to mental disorders are for another person to organize. He uses four digits for their identification numbers.

MC: So it’s like this...that’s good.

MC: Though I’m a lawyer, I still hope that this world will have no strife in it.

MC: Though I would be unemployed, this would be a happy thing.

Zuo Ran: Sheesh, you - your head is full of naive thoughts.

MC: Though it can’t be done, can’t I still think about it - Lawyer Zuo, you’re too strict.

Zuo Ran: Of course you can think about it. Plus… I quite like this way of thinking that you have.

Zuo Ran: “The direction that we lawyers drive towards every day, is towards the day where we will one day be unemployed.”

Zuo Ran: He also said these kinds of words before…

Zuo Ran’s faintly smiling expression showed significant feelings and memories.

A name suddenly flashed in my mind - Nie Qiu.

Could Professor Nie, Zuo Ran’s teacher, be the “he” that Zuo Ran just mentioned?

#tot translation #tears of themis #未定事件簿 #weiding shijian bu

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