#someone please pray for my phone storage it's screaming for help right now
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meownotgood · 2 years ago
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metal illness
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after-witch · 4 years ago
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Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]
Title: Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]
Synopsis: You’ve broken up with Ransom Drysdale, and you mean it this time. But the freedom that comes with the breakup leads to a series of unexpected coincidences that leave you wondering: was it worth the price?
Word Count: 8955
notes: yandere, mentions of physical abuse, financial abuse, comfort sweaters
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Nothing lasts forever. Not even relationships--and certainly not love. What might start off as an intense, passionate relationship can (and did, in your case) eventually fizzle; things that you were willing to overlook when you were absolutely besotted would wear down with time, and eventually they became too much to ignore.
That’s what you tell yourself, what you remind yourself, in the moment after you tell him:
“It’s over, Ransom. We’re done. I’m leaving.”
It couldn’t last forever. Not with his inability to stay sober, not with his tendency to cheat on you with meaningless flings that somehow hurt more than any steamy single-minded affair. Not with his flare-ups of controlling tendencies that left you in tears on the bathroom floor as he asked you to please stop dressing like a slut in front of his family, is that too hard to ask?
You’d asked him to change. He swore he would; he never did. You forgave him, more than once, more times than you could count. But enough was enough. Maybe he thought you were too weak to leave him, especially three years into your relationship, when your lives were becoming so integrated, pushing you towards a potential permanent future. It was a future that left you feeling numb and anxious. Stuck in a marriage with someone who wanted to stay with you but treated you horribly, all the same. And that wasn’t even getting into the family dynamics that left your head spinning.
He stares at you now, and his mouth opens just a little bit in what you know is going to be a barrage of questions, insults, maybe even threats spurred on by your words. But instead he closes his mouth and shakes his head, letting out a soft, bitter chuckle.
“Well, damn. This sucks.” You can see the indent of his tongue in his cheek before he clicks and shrugs. “Guess that’s it then. Need help packing your shit or what?”
His response is so blasĂ© that you’re genuinely shocked and, you must admit, a little hurt. He didn’t even ask for a second chance or beg you to stay or argue with you about your terrible timing because our-vacation-to-Hawaii-is-coming-up. So it’s your turn to look surprised, and you shake your head.
“No, I
 already took care of it. It’s at a storage locker.” You didn’t have family left, and your close friends had pulled away from you one by one once you stayed with Ransom time and time again--so you’d had to pay movers to help you pack and transport everything to storage over the weekend, while Ransom was away and you were free to make a clean breakup.
He nods, sticks his hand inside his jacket pockets. He’s looking around the room, avoiding direct eye contact in a clear show of his discomfort. It’s weird seeing Ransom like this--the normally self-assured, cocky Ransom, looking for any excuse not to look at you.
“So
 see ya around?” His tone is sincere, if still confused. The idea of you leaving must have really never crossed his mind. The look on his face when he finally faces you again appears genuinely puzzled.
He sticks out his hand and it feels almost comical for things to end this way, particularly considering the nights you’d spent imagining some big blow up, some big fight with Ransom screaming and you firing off the many reasons why it had to end no matter what he said.
But it didn’t go the way you expected at all. It was calm. Easy. A clean break-up.
So you shake his hand and grab your purse and the small roller-suitcase and give a half-hearted wave as you walk out the door; the taxi you’d hired to pick you up is waiting, car running, meter going. You would be staying at a hotel for two weeks, which would hopefully be enough time to find a semi-decent apartment; your credit score had improved so much since Ransom added you to his cards, to a shared checking account, and it wouldn’t be too difficult to get approved.
A new life, one where you could focus on yourself for once, was just around the corner.
**
"I'm sorry, miss, but it's definitely not the reader. The card is declined."
You've had this nightmare before. No, you've lived this nightmare before--years ago when your credit was shit and you ran up your cards and had to face the music in a publicly humiliating display with the longest checkout line you'd ever seen behind you. Only that was years ago, in a little grocery store, and since getting together with Ransom you never had to worry about problems like this. You never had to worry about the shame of not having enough, not being enough.
But this? This was happening now. In an upscale hotel. With your nice purse (a Christmas present) and designer clothes (casual, comfortable) and your cheeks flushed undeniably warm.
The hotel clerk has a tight, sympathetic smile on her face. A coworker who walks behind her glances at you, judging, and you just know he's going to head into some break room and tell everyone but yet another piece of discarded army candy with a declined credit card. You wish you'd kept your sunglasses on.
"Did it, um, say why? I don't--" you plaster a smile on your face, hating the way this all feels familiar, like a part of your past coming back to haunt you. "I don't understand, the card is good."
The clerk's smile flickers, just a bit.
"It says there's a fraud alert on this card. Perhaps you'd better call the company. Or would you like me to call them?"
Fucking. Ransom.
"Oh, oh no, don’t worry about it. I’ll call them myself. I'm so sorry about this." You turn away from the clerk as quickly as possible and step away from the counter, away from the person waiting behind you who will surely have no trouble with their card, away from the clerks giving you a passive side-eye. You lean against a cool cement pillar in the lobby and you know what you have to do.
You have to call Ransom.
You haven't deleted his number yet--you'd planned on calling him today or tomorrow to figure out how to split up your shared finances--so it's easy enough to find the number. It's not so easy to tap his contact, but you have to, so you force yourself to do it and stare at his photo as the call rings. And rings. And rings. “Hello?” Your breath catches but in an instant, when the message continues, you feel stupid. It’s his voicemail. Fuck.
You text him, instead. Emergency. Call right away. And of course: He leaves you on read. Fuck.
You call him again. And again. He picks up on the sixth call, but your heart is racing too hard and sweat is beading down your forehead and it takes you a moment to confirm that the "Hello?" wasn't part of the voicemail message this time. Fuck.
"Um. Hey," you say, keeping your voice as un-royally-pissed-off as possible, because if he did put in a fraud alert then you don't want to risk any additional asshole moves. "So there's something wrong with the card? The one that ends in 8921? The hotel said there was a fraud alert and--"
"Did you really think I'm going to keep paying for your shit if we're over?"
His voice is quick, biting--exactly what you'd expected from him earlier. Somehow it stings even harsher over the phone, where you feel more helpless, unable to avoid his words.
"I thought..." you wet your lips, trying to maintain your cool. "Look, my name is on them, so I thought send you my part of the payments until I can get cards in my own name."
He chuckles, low and short. "Yeah? What, you want to create a payment schedule or something?"
You fight back the annoyance in your tone. You hate having to be the bigger person, but your finances--your life--is on the line. "Yeah, actually, that'd be perfect. It wouldn't be for long. You know I'll pay them on time, I'm not looking to screw you over."
"You're going too pay me on time? For all the stuff you've bought, the stuff I’ve bought for you, this hotel room and god knows what else? How are you going to afford all that?"
He knows you recently earned a promotion at your work. He knows this, because you were so excited about it, and his half-assed congratulations over lukewarm leftovers left you feeling bitter and sad and useless. So you can't help it when bitterness seeps into your voice with your answer. "You know I just got a promotion."
"Did you?" It's said in such a casual tone that it gives you pause, but a moment later he simply hangs up on you.
Fucking. Ransom.
You shove your phone back into your purse, and the clerks at the counter are staring at you. Sweat has trickled down your back and your shirt sticks to your skin ever-so-slightly as you pull away from the pillar and approach the counter, awkward smile and cheeks hot.
"There is an issue with the card, they're working on it, so I’ll just call for a new reservation when it's fixed. I'm so sorry for the mix up!" Your voice is so peppy and high-pitched and fake and you feel like you’re back at your old job, feet aching with falling apart shoes, forced to deal with people returning old toasters laden with crumbs, calming they’d “just bought it the day before and it didn’t work.”
"Of course," the clerk says, and you know this is hotel clerk code for "You're a shitty liar."
You roll your suitcase out of the lobby with tears in your eyes and you shove your sunglasses on as soon as you've cleared the building. You feel exhausted, drained--so you use what little energy you have left to start googling for cheap motels.
**
The room smells musty. You pin the plastic sheet you’d snagged at a dollar store over the comforter and pray it will be enough to protect you from whatever is on the likely unwashed fabric. The TV is broken, there’s no WIFi, and there’s a few suspicious stains on the floor that make you wonder if this hotel has ever been featured in a porno, true crime show, or both.
But it’s all you could afford with the cash in your wallet. You only had enough cash on hand for 2 nights at a ragtag hotel that offers nightly and hourly rates. You didn’t dare use your debit card or any credit cards with Ransom’s name or information on them.
You just need some sleep. A good night’s sleep to feel renewed and ready to tackle retaking your life, bit by bit. In the morning, you need to go to the bank and withdraw your money from the joint bank account. Then you can reopen an account in your name, get a new debit card, and apply for a few credit cards afterwards.
Sure, it would have been nicer to do this without Ransom being an asshole. But deep down, you suspected he wouldn’t let you have a clean, lets-still-be-friends type of break. Not after all the times he’d pressured you into staying, manipulating you with words and gifts and promises, promises. Promises that were worth shit. 
The sheet crinkles underneath you as you scroll through your messages. You’d texted a few formerly close friends about the breakup earlier, hoping that they’d maybe want to reconnect. So far, you’d been left on read, blocked, and received only one response: “New number, who is this?”
So much for that. Not that you can blame them. There are only so many times they can rush over for a late night intervention in which you tell them every horrible thing Ransom does (he’s controlling, he doesn’t want me to meet with friends without permission, he tells me what I can and can’t wear, he cheats, he lies, he pushed me--)--before they get tired of you returning to him, again and again and again.
The only one who’d been texting you recently--okay, for the past year--had been Ransom. Mostly dick pics. And demands for you to send him something back, which you always did after a while, because you didn’t want to deal annoyed texts or voice messages accusing you of clearly cheating on him or hating him because why else wouldn’t you be willing to send him so much as a sexy selfie to your boyfriend? 
But in between those, there were conversations. Sometimes sweet ones, sometimes thoughtful ones that always made you remember why you fell hard for him in the first place. Late night conversations from when he was off on trips. You try not to wonder if he was fucking someone on each of these trips, if while you were sending him a late night ramble about a TV show and he was humoring you with jokes and quips, he was actually snuggled up with someone else. Laying in bed, naked, laughing at your dumb ass waiting at home.
The not-so-sweet conversations were ones that you had screenshotted and sent to your friends more than once, before they pulled themselves away. Texts asking where you were. Asking who you ate lunch with, and whether or not you were fucking them. Asking why your new office was connected to a certain co-worker’s, and how many blowjobs you had to give to get said new office because you didn’t tell him about the new office until after you were moved in, so you were clearly hiding him. Asking you to send him outfit pics so he could approve them or make you change if they were too slutty or not slutty enough or if you were only clearly wearing that halter dress to try to get with the bartender.
Yet your mind had always returned to the nice Ransom, the Ransom who made you laugh and squeezed you hard when had a shitty day of work and let you bury your face in his sweater as you snuggled on the couch. Maybe that’s why it took so long to leave.  You were waiting for him to stop being Ransom and start being the fantasy of Ransom you’d conjured in your head.
Your eyes feel heavy so you plug in your phone, turn the sound off, and lay down on the uncomfortable plastic sheet that crinkled over the pillows. It feels strange to lay on a lumpy mattress covered in plastic, after years of custom-made beds and memory foam pillows and all the other luxuries that Ransom was able to provide.
You try not to think about it too much. While you won’t exactly be indulging in all the luxuries you had with Ransom, but your job pays you well, and you won’t ever have to go back to living hand-to-mouth like you did before. You won’t have to worry about late bills and debt collectors and landlords who come late at night and demand inspections while you’re in your pajamas.
You have work in the morning. You have to get to the bank in the morning. Your thoughts are still buzzing with anxiety as you fall into an uneasy slumber.
**
“I’m sorry, but the account has been closed.”
You feel years of customer service training cracking underneath your skin. You can’t freak out. If you freak out, they won’t feel inclined to go the extra mile. You know this, from firsthand experience.
So you take a shaky breath. “Um, this just--it isn’t possible. It’s a joint account. I’m on the account. There was money in there, you can check--”
“I’m sorry, but the funds were transferred and account has been closed by the other account holder. There’s nothing I can do. I suggest contacting the other party in the account.”
You swallow and nod and walk away, this time having been smart enough to keep your sunglasses on to hide your humiliated expression. Why didn’t you insist on having your own account? Ransom said it was better to keep it joint, so you could just buy stuff whenever you wanted. You’d agreed because it was so generous, something you’d never thought possible at the time, when you were used to having to pay overdraft fees and cringing whenever you checked your balance.
Your fingers tremble as you bring up his contact on your phone. You tap. No answer.
You don’t have time to call him two, three, ten times--you have to get to work. So you steady your nerves. You breathe in, you breathe out. You get in your car and plug your phone in and decide to contact your lawyer. Fuck--your lawyer was Ransom's lawyer. But the anxiety eases when you remember that you’d paid him a retainer fee months ago, and Ransom couldn’t do anything about that. You could at least get a basic consult out of the retainer.
The call ringing sounds muffled through your car’s speaker but it isn’t long before someone answers, and you’re transferred to the lawyer Ransom insisted you have--gotta have a lawyer when you have money, babe--and that you hadn’t spoken to in ages.
“Hi,” you say, voice artificially bright, “this is--”
You don’t get a chance to finish.
“I know who this is.” The lawyer sounds tired, and his tone is curt and clipped. “I’m sorry. I’m no longer able to provide you with any legal counsel.”
You almost miss a red light and regret calling the office while you were driving.
“Is this about the debit card? Because I paid the retainer months ago--”
“The retainer has been refunded into the connected checking account.”
Your voice looses its artificial cheeriness and you stumble over your words in frustration. “That’s--it’s--it was a joint account, which is why I called, Ransom drained it and took everything. Isn’t there something we can do, because that was my money too and--”
“I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel.”
You want to cry. You hate crying, as an adult. It makes you feel weak. Especially on the phone.
“I don’t understand. Why was the retainer refunded? Did--did someone call you?”
He clears his throat into the phone. “I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel. Goodbye.”
He hangs up. Your hands shake.
You pull into the parking lot of your work and park the car and as soon as you do, you hunch yourself over the steering wheel and simply shake in frustration.
You have no bank account. Ransom drained it. You have no credit cards. Ransom blocked them. You couldn’t even talk to a lawyer, because--shock--Ransom made sure you couldn’t. Everything was in Ransom’s name. He insisted on adding you to his accounts, closing out your own paltry ones; insisted that he pay off your credit card debt, and making you close those, too, instead adding you to his cards. It was all to help you out, he said, at the time.
Wasn’t it? He was shockingly not judgmental about the state of your finances, and while you’d put up some protest, you didn’t exactly argue with him when he suggested wiping your debts clean and getting your credit back up. And considering that he wasn’t immune to needing a bail-out now and then (late night calls to his grandfather, snarky comments at his parent’s dinner table, come to mind) maybe he could sympathize with being in over your head. Even if your issues were rooted in poverty and shitty jobs and his were rooted in a total lack of financial discipline and, as you’d later found out, a drug addiction.
Still. He helped you before. He would help you now, once he realized how serious it was. For now he was just--reacting like an asshole, acting childish and ridiculous. He was an asshole. You know this. You’ve known this. You need to call him and meet with him and make him realize how ridiculous he’s being, and he’ll sigh and snark but he’ll agree to stop acting like such an ass.
But first you have to work. Life goes on. Even without Ransom--even with Ransom, screwing you over out of pettiness.
The air conditioning in the lobby is on blast, and the familiar smell of clean furniture and floor cleaner from the late-night cleaning crew is surprisingly comforting. Here, you can forget about Ransom--forget about the cards and the lawyer and the fact that your life has been upended in mere hours. If only until your lunch break, at least.
Anthony is working the front desk and you give him a a soft, if strained smile. There’s something in the smile that he gives you in return that reminds you of the hotel clerk. Sympathetic and judgmental.
Ah. You probably look like--well, less than your best, you realize. You did pack some toiletries in your suitcase but the water in the motel had streaks of brown and you didn’t shower, opting instead to rinse your face with what was left of a water bottle you’d bought earlier and layering on more deodorant to make up for the lack of a proper scrub. You probably looked a bit tired, haggard, not unlike some of the employees who got stuck with big clients the night before their paperwork was due.
Still. Nothing that freshening up in your private bathroom--thank god for the new office--can’t help. So you hit the button on the elevator and take deep breaths as you ride up, intent on working as productively as possible. The doors open and you navigate the familiar maze of open-plan desks for the lower-tier workers, desks surrounded by half-walls that always kept you staring straight ahead, lest you accidentally glance over and see a co-worker picking their nose.
Yet as you weave in-and-out of the familiar rows, heading towards the back of the room where the real offices, the ones with full walls and doors and privacy glass lay, you can’t help but feel that something is
 off. 
No one calls out to greet you, though that can be easily attributed to the jealousy over your promotion. You’d been working there for far less than most of the lower level workers--Ransom got you the job, with his connections and a hefty revision of your resume and, you assume, some personal phone calls--and you’d already been promoted to senior management. That wasn’t technically Ransom’s work, though. That was all your own effort, your own blood, sweat, tears and intense devotion to each project that came your way. Sure, the connections he helped you make, the dinner parties, all that helped--but if it weren’t for your skills, the connections wouldn’t have made a difference. Right? 
Still, whatever bitterness existed in the people hunch in open-air cubicles, the receptionists always greeted you. But today they caught your eye then awkwardly glanced down, or pretended to be looking for something in their drawers. It was odd. Did you look that bad? That out of sorts?
You shake off the heavy feeling in your stomach and for once, you shut the door to your office instead of keeping it open for passers-by or people needing approval for this-and-that. It feels good to lean against the solid wood door and take a breath, a deep one, invigorating and calming.
A quick trip to the bathroom has you staring at yourself from all angles. You don’t look that bad, you reason. Just tired. But who wouldn’t be, sleeping on a plastic sheet in the shittiest motel in the area? You take a quick sniff under your arms but even that reveals nothing much but a faint hint of sweat and powdery deodorant.
There’s a firm knock at your office door and you glance at the mirror for a final once over before opening it up. It’s your boss. Did you have a meeting? You try to do a mental scan of something you’ve missed, but nothing comes to mind.
“Hi,” you say, wavering with uncertainty at the threshold. Should you invite him in? “What can I do for you? We didn’t have a meeting, did we?” You let yourself chuckle, dry and quick. “I’m sorry, I’m a bit scattered this morning.”
Your boss doesn’t return your chuckle, which immediately raises the hairs on the back of your neck. Something was wrong. Shit--you were working on a major project for a seriously important client. The type of client that could genuinely make or break a company, if you got on their bad side. You press your lips together and make a silent vow to keep it serious.
“I’d like to keep this conversation private.” His tone is low and serious and you invite him in without a second thought, shutting the thick door behind you, trying to ignore the way everyone was shooting glances as it closed. Fuck, fuck, fuck, your thoughts race--no wonder everyone was giving you the stink eye. Something was wrong with the client, and you were the one making primary contact with them.
Your boss takes a seat on the leather sofa pushed up against the wall and you immediately set yourself down behind your desk.
He sighs. Short. Frustrated. Annoyed.
“We have to let you go.”
The words don’t register.
“Go where?”
It’s only after you say it that you realize what he said, what it meant, and you feel like a colossal moron in every respect.
“It’s not working out,” he continues, staring at your desk and not at your face. “Since you’ve only been in this position for a month, you don’t quality for senior severance. The best we can do is to pay you what you’ve earned this week.”
Your mouth is so dry that you don’t know if you can talk. Your hand fumbles on your desk for a water bottle you’d left overnight, and that’s when you see it--the photo frame. You keep a photo of yourself and Ransom, cuddled together for a selfie, on your desk. The photo was lying on your desk, frameless, ripped in half--leaving only your vacantly smiling face staring up at you.
Ransom was here.
“Did he put you up to this?” You whisper. “Did Ransom tell you to fire me?”
You know he won’t answer. But you stare at him so fervently that he can’t help but look up at you, and you see it all in his eyes, in the subtle, embarrassed expression of his face.
You can imagine Ransom strolling in--maybe he called first--and settling in for a private audience with your boss in his office. He’d probably pull the chair up to the desk and put his feet on it, just to be an ass. Then he’d bring up
 you. And why you had to be let go. Did he give a reason, did he tell your boss why a respected employee who he once secured a position for, who shot up the ranks through intense effort and work, needed to be fired? Did he even need to give a reason?
“This is absolute bullshit,” you say, finally, voice dry and hoarse and bitter. You want to say you’ll be contacting a lawyer. That this won’t stand. But you know--and he knows--that there’s nothing you can do.
Your boss stands, slow, and sighs again. “I’m sorry it had to end this way. Pack up your things as quickly as possible.”
He leaves, and you keep your eyes trained on the ripped photograph to avoid seeing the expressions of the people in the doorway before your boss mercifully shuts the door.
It takes all of your effort not to cry.
You don’t have much effort left.
**
Your things consisted of a handful of personal items, little touches you’d brought in to make your office feel more like “you.” A nice picture print. A pastel afghan to drape over the couch. A stapler with a floral design. You have the strong urge to dump them in a trash can, but that’s quickly quelled by the realization that you can’t afford to buy new things, or any things, at this point.
You don’t care if wearing your sunglasses as you power walk to the elevators makes you look stupid. You know someone, somewhere in this office is filming you and probably captioning it with something stupid to post to their Reels or TikTok, and it just makes you leave faster. A few people murmur comments your way, sympathetic in tone, but you’re not really listening. None of their platitudes matter, because Ransom was here, in your workplace, in your office, and he stole the thing you were most proud of from under your feet.
To his credit, when you reach the bottom floor, Anthony practically fumbles out from behind his desk and holds the door open for you. He mouths a “Sorry” and he probably is, but he’s probably used to dealing with rich assholes like Ransom who get what they want, when they want it; even when what they want is to fire a good employee on demand for very personal reasons.
The sun is beating down hard, even for the morning, and the stress of your situation makes you blast the air conditioning as soon as you get in the car. God, the car--how are you going to afford the payments? You wish you could call your mom. You wish your friends--are they even your friends, anymore?--would call you back.
You grab your phone from your purse and stare at the black screen. Maybe you should call the friend who didn’t block you. She would answer, if you called, because she knew you didn’t make calls unless it was serious. She might not rush to your side, but maybe she can offer you a place to stay, a couch, some advice. A kind word would do, right now, with how much anxiety and frustration has been packed into the last 12 hours.
But when you unlock your screen, your gut sinks. Five missed calls. From the storage company. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
You tap their number and bring the phone to your ear and pretend that your hands aren’t shaking.
The man who answers is the same one you talked to on the phone before, when setting up your move. “Hello, Move’nSecure Storage Company. This is Steve speaking. How many I help you?”
“Hi Steve!” You hate how chipper you sound. “I actually just got a few missed calls from you guys, I’m sorry, I was in the office and--”
“Oh.” His voice is surprisingly flat, suddenly flat, losing its customer service inflection in an instant before picking it back up. “Yes. We’ve been trying to reach you. For confirmation, the storage locker your purchased is A443, correct?”
You fumble in your purse for the receipt and confirm the little numbers printed neatly on the paper. “Yes, A443. Is everything okay?”
“No, it’s not.” You’re grateful that you didn’t have much for breakfast because you know it would be clawing its way back up at this point. “The card you gave us for the storage fee was declined.”
The debit card. You’d paid in cash for the move, and paid for 1 month of storage with the card. The card that was now useless, connected to an empty and closed bank account.
“Is there another card you can give us?”
“No, but...” You say, because no, there is not. There is not a card. There is not a job. There is nothing. “But if you could just hold my stuff, I’ll be there in less than a hour to get it.”
“We don’t hold items,” Steve tells you, a rehearsed banality to his tone. “Your items are currently outside the unit.”
You instinctively want to yell at Steve but, fuck fuck fuck, you’ve been there, behind the counter, dealing with people who couldn’t pay for shit and then had the nerve to get upset with you. “All of it?” You ask, your voice cracking slightly.
“Yes.”
You hang up, and toss your phone onto the passenger seat. The quicker you get there, the less chance that something will get broken or stolen or who knows what else.
The trip to the storage unit seems to take forever, and when you arrive you don’t even take a second to lock your car doors. Instead you sprint inside, startling Steve--looking at his phone, then at you, then at the sign plastered up on the wall leading to the storage locker floors. He points. Row A, separated into 100s, 200s, 300s, and--your number--400s.
You don’t remember if you say ‘thank you,’ because you’re speed-walking down the hallway and following the signs and it isn’t long before you see it: a storage locker with tons of stuff piled up, dumped, outside the now-empty unit where it was supposed to be safe and sound. Waiting for you to get an apartment and pick it back up and rearrange it into your new life, your new “you.”
The problem is immediate: You can’t fit all this in your car. You don’t know anyone who could take the stuff for you. You mind reels for options and the only thing you can come up with is ferrying your belongings to and from the hotel. You can pay for a few more days once you cash your partial paycheck. After that
 you don’t know.
Pawn your things? Yeah. That might work. You can get enough cash by pawning most of your stuff, the good stuff. Enough money to get you into a shitty apartment with leaks and a bad landlord. Then you can a job that barely pays rent and you’ll be right back where you started, before you met Ransom. Before you thought leaking ceilings and $20 paychecks after taxes were a thing of the past.
You ignore the humiliation that makes your stomach curl as you take your things out to the car, handful by handful. Steve doesn’t bother holding the door open for you. You mention that you’re going to be back on your way out, and he offers a non-committal hum.
At least when you get to the hotel, the owner sees you fumbling with boxes and offers to help you out. It takes less time with two hands to get everything in the room, and once it’s locked up you head back out to the storage units.
You keep your sunglasses on for the second trip into the storage unit, even though you don’t know Steve or care what he thinks. He doesn’t look up when you walk in and it’s just as well, since you’re only heading back to the A-400s and don’t need his non-existent help.
But the sight that greets you when you round the corner to your unpaid-for storage locker makes your blood run cold.
Your stuff is gone. All of it.
You rush back to the desk, where Steve does look up, startled by your urgency.
“My stuff,” you spit out, “My stuff is gone! Someone took it!”
Steve shrugs. “Sorry.” He points to a sign behind him: “We are not responsible for the loss of items inside or outside storage lockers.”
“Are you fucking kidding?” You can’t the anger in your voice this time. “You just watched someone walk off with my stuff and didn’t say anything?”
Steve raises his eyebrows. “If it was that important, you shouldn’t have left it here. Or you should have given us another card.”
You feel like throwing your hands up but you just clench your fist and storm out the door, huffing as you reach your car. The anger melts into the sense of loss, the realization that you only have a few meager items that you’d managed to collect; you picked the lightest stuff, first. And in retrospect it was things that didn’t matter much at all. Clothes. Hair supplies. Makeup. You should have grabbed the box with your USB sticks, your memory cards, your photo albums; your personal mementos and sentimental shit. Instead you grabbed the box with your shampoo.
At least the clothes might get something in a pawnshop. The makeup, too, on Facebook or Depop or Instagram. But it wouldn’t be enough to put you up in an apartment. You’ll have to live in your car. Until they repossess it for lack of payment.
You don’t have your bank account, your credit cards, your job, a place to stay, or your personal possessions. And soon, you won’t have your car.
You have no friends. No boyfriend. No family.
All you have $20 left in your wallet and well, fuck it. You grab some McDonalds on the way home because, fuck it, and eat all the fries before you make it to the motel. The thought of eating in your dirty room makes your stomach turn and you decide to eat everything else you bought, the burger and the shake and the chicken nuggets too, tossing the wrappers on the floor. It feels like deja vu--getting cheap fast food to make you feel full, tossing trash on the floor of the passenger seat, all bringing back the way you used to when you’d grab something from the dollar menu on your way to work at the call center.
You almost wish you could stay at this hotel, brown water and all. The owner is decently nice. He smiles at you when you enter and doesn’t bring up that you didn’t come back with more boxes, like you said you would.  
You’re surprised at how grateful you feel for the dingy hotel room now that you won’t be able to stay here more than another day. Now that the alternative is sleeping in your car, then sleeping on the street, if you were lucky.
Your phone feels heavy when you set it on the table and stare at the home screen. Another photo of you and Ransom stares back up at you. You haven’t had time to change it up yet. He’s grinning. You’re smiling. It’s a good photo. You try to place it in your memory, try to remember what beach that was, but your trips blur together and you can’t.
Should you call him? If it was just the cards, just him being petty over credit and finances, it was one thing. You could try to placate him with returning gifts, just asking him to give you what you put in from your own paychecks. But making you lose your job? It was too far, too fucking far. And there was no going back from that. Fuck, someone was probably moving into your office as you sat in this dimly lit room mourning the loss of your entire life.
For a brief, very fleeting moment, you consider calling Harlan. You weren’t exceptionally close, but he seemed to like you well enough. He’d even asked you once, puling you aside at a tension-filled family party, if Ransom treated you right, told you to tell him if he ever got to be too much. Harlan felt like Ransom’s keeper--in more ways than one. You could never tell Harlan about the shouts or the occasional bruises from when Ransom really, really lost his temper--it’s not like you could prove them, anyway, as Ransom made sure to keep you away from his family when he lost control like that. No need for excuses about running into doors when he made sure you looked your best at family functions.
But the thought of breaking the uneasy stasis that Ransom had with the most significant member of his family made you want to vomit. There would be no coming back from that, and you knew better than to cross any line involving the great Harlan Thrombey.
You could call your friend--ex-friend? The one who didn’t block you or forget your number. You should. No, you will. Because what else do you have to lose.
But before you can bring up her number, you get a text--Ransom. It’s a photo and your curiosity gets the better of you as you click the notification.
“What the fuck?”
He’s sent you a photo of his car, trunk open. It’s filled with boxes, odds-and-ends. It’s filled with your stuff.
You text him: What??
He texts back: Hey. I’m in front of the hotel. Come out? Bring your suitcase. :P
It’s your stuff. It’s his car. He’s here. All reason is thrown aside as you grab your suitcase and purse and rush down the hallway, ignoring the owner’s confused response from behind his desk as you push open the front doors and look around the parking lot.
His car is parked to the side, not in front of the hotel’s glass double doors. He’s standing outside his car, leaning against it. He takes off his sunglasses and tucks them in his pocket when he sees you approaching, face confused and fuming all at once.
“What the fuck, Ransom, what the fuck is your problem--”
“Hey, hey,” he says, hands up in defense, “You’re not even going to thank me for picking up your stuff?”
You feel suddenly, impossibly rooted to the spot.
“What do you--what? You took my stuff?”
He shrugs. “C’mon, did you really think I’d just leave your stuff in some shitty storage unit? Someone would’ve taken it if I didn’t get there first.”
You swallow. “Why?” You ask, because Ransom never does anything for no reason. Or so you’ve learned.
His expression loses a bit of its cocky casualness. He tilts his head a bit, looking at you as if you’ve asked a particularly offensive question.
“Why do you think?”
To lord it over you? To make you think your stuff was gone and make you worried, sick, crazy?
“I don’t know,” is what you settle for in the end. “I really, really don’t. You--” You lick your lips, and try to calm down, calm the pitter-patter of your heart, and think before you speak. “You’ve done some pretty messed up stuff today. My job?” The last question comes out soft and pained, and you know your eyes are starting to tear up.
“Hey.” His voice is soft and placating and it makes your stomach flip as he approaches you, standing there on the sidewalk with your purse and suitcase. “Hey, c’mon. Don’t cry on me.”
You know this Ransom. The Ransom that holds you and pets your hair and offers to get Thai food delivered even though he doesn’t like it just to make you happy.
He puts his hand on your shoulder and you jerk it away. “Don’t.” That Ransom is a fantasy. Or an incomplete version, the version that pretends he doesn’t lie and cheat and hurt you in more ways than one. “Don’t you fucking dare, especially not after what you pulled today. My job? My job, Ransom? You’re a--a fucking asshole.”
He puts his hands up again, defensive, and takes a step back. But he doesn’t return to his car, and stays just a few steps in front of you.
“Look. Call me an asshole. Sure, fine, I can admit that. But do you know what else I am?”
He waits a beat, waits for you to look at him, before he continues. “I’m a realist. I like facts. And the fact is? You aren’t much without me. No job, no credit cards, no bank account. Without me, you’re just some broke chick scrambling to get an apartment in the shittiest part of town, working a dead-end job that don’t pay shit. With me though
. “
He leaves the words unfinished, but you know what he means. Flashes of your life, cocktails and smart business outfits and dinners at restaurants you didn’t even dream about attending before you met him. Phone calls with shakers in the industry and social media requests from people you’d never dream you’d meet. Connections that meant something, a career path, dinner parties with people who could offer tangible benefits to your career and your life.
It wasn’t that he spoiled you. He wasn’t a sugar daddy. You weren’t getting gifts for blowjobs. It was that his presence in your life boosted you, socially, financially, mentally, physically, in every which way possible.
His presence got you a job that you loved, which meant you weren’t burnt out when you came home, which meant that you had the time and energy to spend hours catching up on books or redecorating the house or watching movies. Good money meant you could order in whenever you felt like it, meant you didn’t have to worry if you burned dinner because you could just buy new steaks or order-in or go out, last minute, and still get a great table. It meant you had all the clothes you wanted, stylish and personally tailored; it meant you had easy access to a gym and exercise equipment and an indoor pool to keep you healthy. It meant you had a life that provided comfort in every way possible.
Being with Ransom Drysdale was like
 like a little shot of privilege directly into your arm.
Privilege that he took away just as easily as he gave it. Just as easily as you took it. Just as easily as you took it and eagerly ignored the dark side underneath. Or maybe you didn’t ignore it. Maybe you liked it, maybe it reminded you of who you were underneath the designer clothes and expensive dinners.
Maybe you wanted to fix him, like he fixed you? He wasn’t totally bad, after all, he did make sure no one took your belongings. Maybe it was your presence that gave him the idea for that touch of sympathy, maybe with Ransom change was slow and muddled, not picture-perfect sweeping changes like the kind in movies.
“So?” Ransom’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “Are you going to come home or,” he waves his hands around dismissively, at the hotel, at you.
You feel very, very less-than right now. You look awful, your hair mussy and your makeup mostly melted off with sweat and sun. You probably smell more than you normally do, thanks to the lack of a shower. Your muscles, sore from the motel bed, ache for the large spa bathtub that Ransom had installed in the master bathroom just for you, stocked with bubbles and salts and overpriced bath bombs that were $10 a pop.
But your muscles had hurt before, when he pushed you against the dresser.
You have nothing, and no one. Except Ransom. Ransom who didn’t judge you when you instinctively saved plastic bottles and boxes, but merely nudged you towards recycling and took you out to splurge on a reusable water bottle and proper storage containers the next day. Ransom who asked you what sort of job you wanted, really wanted, and made it happen for you. Ransom who shrugged and wiped away your credit card debt without making you feel like shit.
Ransom who didn’t let you leave the house if your wrists were sporting fingerprint shaped bruises. Ransom who argued with you about talking to men, even men at work. Ransom who held you tight at night and said he never wanted to let you go, and wouldn’t you just make a fine-ass addition his crazy family. Ransom who took care of you, now that you had no one else.
“What do you want me to do?” The words feel slow, sluggish. Like they wanted to stick to the roof of your mouth and it took everything in you to get them out.
His voice turns low and serious as he stares at you with an characteristic expression. “Well, the first thing is to get down on your knees
”
You feel your eyes practically bugging out.
“What the fuck, Ransom?”
He laughs. He always did have a nice laugh.
“I’m just messing with you, Jesus. Take a chi-I-il pill. Just grab your purse and come sit your sweet ass in the front seat. Let’s go get some burgers, I’m starving.”
Your legs feel like jelly when you take that first step, and the sound of your roller suitcase as you pull it along seems louder than ever. Ransom pops the truck and you just manage to fit it inside with the handle closed, jamming it in between some boxes at an odd angle. The handle of the passenger side is familiar, warm from the sun.
You open the door and practically shove yourself into the seat, closing the door as fast as possible. You can’t do more than glance at him as humiliation and anxiety and just the smallest bit of relief washes over you. It’s been less than 24 hours since you broke up, and here you are--again.
He’s staring at you quietly, his expression difficult to place. He looks relieved. He looks annoyed. He looks like he wants to kiss you. He looks like he wants to slap you. Maybe he wants to do it all at once and can’t decide which to pick.
Instead, he puts his hand on your thigh. Gives it a squeeze. Hard, bordering on painful.  He’s staring straight ahead, at the worn-out sign on the hotel’s front door, one hand gripping the flesh of your thigh. He looks good in profile. “Don’t ever try to pull something like that again. I mean it. I really mean it.”
You turn, glance out the window, familiar tears at the edge of your eyes.
“I won’t,” you whisper, dreaming of the tub and bubbles and how good a warm soak will feel on your back, on your thighs, on your soul.
“Good girl,” he says, patting your thigh firmly. He plucks his sunglasses out of pocket and puts them on in a smooth motion. The car starts smoothly, its fine-tuned and expensive engine a familiar sound, and your hands feel robotic as you pull the seatbelt over your chest and click it tight.
“Let’s get dinner and get home. You have some unpacking to do.”
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deadly-departed · 4 years ago
Note
Hello! I thought of this request while I was in online class lmao. Ok so how about a yandere scenario with Hanako, Tsukasa and Teru seeing their darling s/o trying to escape from them??
Oh hell yes! We love yandere Tsukasa in this household- like, please, I would let him yoink me and throw me into his boundary. I'm such a simp istg
Hanako-Kun The Bathroom Ghost, Wonder No. 7
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You had escaped, neither your nor him know exactly how you got out but you did
And now, you were hiding, hoping that he would eventually give up on looking for you and then you could finally get out of this cursed school.
But you forgot one thing
Unlike you and your human friends, ghosts don't need to sleep.
So while you were hiding in your little storage closet, trying your hardest not to doze off because of the lack of sleep you'd had in Hanako's grasp, the apparition was searching the school from top to bottom.
And after he recruited a handful of Mokke, he had found you, sound asleep on the floor.
He couldn't help but laugh at how weak you looked when asleep, it was adorable!
He watched you for a moment, your chest rising and falling softly as you breathe
Hanako thought of all the things he could do to you, but of course he doesn't do anything! Because that's wrong and he doesn't want you to hate him!
But he does pick you up, making sure not to wake you as he carries you back to your little prison.
Once you woke up, the first thing you saw were Hanako's sad eyes looking at you.
"Moon, why did you try to escape? I thought you loved me." Hanako asks, hurt glossing his amber eyes.
You look away from him. You are not letting him guilt trip you. You know that's what he's trying to do, he's done it before.
"I hate it here." You mumble, watching the Mokke stack themselves into a small pyramid.
Hanako felt himself about to cry, his vision blurring as he tries to come up with an excuse for you.
You were just tired! Yeah, that's it! He's been keeping you up for days on end because he forgot that humans need sleep!
"Moon, just get some rest, that's all you need. You're tired." Hanako says, smiling softly at you.
"I don't need sleep! I need you to let me go!" You cry out, tugging at the chains on your arm.
You were always so difficult. You were never satisfied with anything that Hanako did for you.
"Tell me what I'm doing wrong." Hanako says, grasping your hands in his cold ones.
"Tell me how to make you happy and hoe to get you to smile! I want us to be together! Please!" As he begged, his grip on your hands subconsciously became tighter.
"Tell me why you hate me so much!"
His grip was unbearable.
"Ha-hanako, you're hurting me...!" You whimpering out, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.
Hanako's eyes widen and he immediately let's go, his hands moving quickly to his chest.
"I'm sorry.. I'm so sorry..." He kept mumbling apologies as he basically ran out of the room, leaving you tied up with nothing other then the Mokke to keep you company.
Tsukasa Yugi, The Rumor Spreader
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Sakura was bound to Tsukasa. She had to do what he said even if it pained her. That was why she took care of you so often.
Tsukasa told her to keep an eye on you to make sure you didn't escape. She hated it, taking care of you.
Not that she hated you or having to take care of another person! She liked you, but she hated the events that lead up to your meeting.
And after months of worrying for your safety, she finally had enough and decided to help you escape.
"Please, just be quiet, I'll get in a lot of trouble for doing this. I just can't stand seeing you suffer anymore." She states quietly as she takes you out of the Boundary.
You two were so close, you could see the front doors.
Yet as soon as you were close enough to open them, you heard an all too familiar laugh behind you.
Both yours and Sakura's eyes widen as your blood runs cold. You knew who it was, you had no need to turn around, especially with the arms and legs wrapping around your shaking form.
"Where do you think you're going?" Tsukasa whispers into your ear, giggling softly.
You shook more as you felt him lick the shell of you're ear.
"Well?" He smirks, before looking to Sakura.
"Take them back to the boundary. Now." He says, his eyes darkening.
Sakura looks down at the ground before nodding, grabbing your wrist tightly before walking back into the depths of the school. "I'm really sorry, you know I don't want to do this." She mumbles
Back in the boundary, Sakura cuffed you back down to your chair before backing away from you.
Tsukasa held a sharp knife, the sadistically cute smile grazing his lips as he looked at you with darkened eyes.
Though you prayed that this was an empty threat of harm, it seemed all too real to be fake.
"Why'd you try to escape? Do you not like it here?" He asked, a mocking innocence threading his voice as he helped you and brought his pointer finger up to his bottom lip. "Amane said that people like being taken care of by their partners. And Amane never lies!"
"You're not taking care of me." You whimper as you watch the apparition play with the knife in his hands.
"Yes I am." He says, smiling at you before turning his attention away from you. "That's not the big problem though." He states as he stares at Sakura. "You helped them escape. You can't disobey what I say!" He yells like a child, throwing the knife at her, missing her face by a few inches.
Sakura stood there, her normally blank expression showing clear fear as her form shook.
Tsukasa then once again turns back to you, a big smile on his face.
"You made me so scared! I thought someone was gonna hurt you or try to take you away from me!" He cries out as he glomps you, wrapping his limbs around your body in a tight hug.
"I need to make sure that everyone knows you're mine!" Tsukasa exclaims happy as he opens his mouth and bites down on your neck harshly enough to draw blood.
You scream out in pain, tears pricking your eyes as you writhe underneath the boy.
Sakura turned away and covered her ears, wanting to cry herself.
"You need to learn your lesson!" Tsukasa chimes, smiling happily as a bit of blood trailed down the corner of his mouth.
Teru Minamoto, The School Prince
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He'd be upset, not only at you, but at himself and anyone who tried to help you.
He'd punish you and threaten the helpers.
Kou sighs, scratching at the back or his head as he looks at the mess he'd made in the living room.
Where has Tiara's Mokke gone? He's looked around the entire house and couldn't find it.
As one last resort, he walked to the basement door. Yes, Teru told him not to go in there, but it was for their sister, he would understand, right?
He grabs the cold handle, pulling the door open. Kou looks down at the dark stairs.
He pulls out his phone, turning on the flashlight before descending the staircase, keeping the light on steps so that he wouldn't slip.
You looked at the Minamoto, refusing to make any noise. Hoping that he wasn't here for you
You watched as he first went to the other half of the basement, shining his phone light in some boxes and digging around a bit before moving to the next.
"Not here either where could it have gone? It's not like it could ha-" Kou's eyes widen as he turns around, his flashlight illuminating the other side of the room, and thus you.
"Wh-what are you doing in our basement?" Kou asks, trying to sound brave as he looks at you.
"I... Um..." You tried to this k of something, anything to say that wouldn't make you sound weird.
But you also count say that his brother kidnapped you, what would Kou think?
"It's not what you think," You say, panicked.
"That doesn't answer my question." He says, taking steps closer to your shaking frame.
"What are you doing in my house?" He asks, a slightly more demanding tone in his voice.
You curl up into a ball, your kneed to your chest and covering your head, causing the chains on your ankle and wrist to rattle loudly, shining them in the light.
"Pl-please don't hurt me." You beg, shaking more.
Teru never hurt you, of course not, but you were always so scared that he would.
Kou's eyes widen as he looks at you and the chains tethering you to the bed and wall. "Why are..." He stops himself, only walking closer to you to get a better look at the cuffs.
"How long have you been down here...?" Kou questions, setting his phone down on the bed, the light illuminating the ceiling.
You life your head up slightly, taken slightly aback by how close he suddenly was.
"...A few months maybe? I have nothing to tell time with other than Teru coming in to say good morning before he goes to school and goodnight." You mumble looking down at the bed, slipping your arms under your knees and hugging your thighs closer to you.
"Teru-nii? What do you mean? Never mind, I need to get you out of here, what's you're name?" He asks, looking for a way to get the cuff off your ankle.
"Uh.. Y/N. I'm a third year." You state, watching him analysis the cuff.
You watch Kou, thinking that maybe, just maybe, you'd be able to escape this hell hole.
That is until you hear someone clear their throat at the top of the basement stairs.
You freeze, eyes widening as you refuse to look up, knowing exactly who it is.
Teru sighs as he walks down the steps, shaking his head softly.
He looked at the scene unfolding in front of him, his dear little brother had found his darling, who happened to be locked in the basement.
"T-Teru-nii, why is Y/N-Senpai in our basement?" Kou asked, his voice changing slightly.
"Better question," Teru starts, his eyes glaring daggers into his brother. "Why are you in here? I told both you and Tiara not to go in here, didn't I?"
Kou's eyes widen slightly as he stood up right.
"Well, yeah but-" Kou starts.
"Then why are you here. And why are you trying to help them escape? They're here for a reason Kou." Teru states, crossing his arms as he stands in front of his brother.
"I knew I couldn't trust you with something like this." Teru mumbles as he turns his attention to his darling, still unmoving in the bed.
"Darling, are you alright? Did kou do anything to you?" He asks, kneeling down next to you.
"Get away from them!" Kou shouts, causing you to jump.
Teru stands up straight again, looking over to his brother as his eyes darken. "Kou, you have no idea what I'm doing. They're here because they need to be protected, they need someone to look after them. And I'm that person, I love them and they love me."
Kou looks up at his brother, slight fear glossing over his eyes as he does so.
You felt useless. Like a toy that two toddlers were fighting over. You were powerless.
"T-teru please, leave him alone... He doesn't understand." You say quietly, trying to calm your captor down.
The older Minamoto looks over at you, a small smile gracing his lips. "Darling I know, but he's getting in the way."
Kou looks at you, shock evident on his face. "Senpai, are you really taking his side on this? He kidnapped you!" Kou stresses.
"He did it for my own good." You fake a smile as you look at Kou, ready to break down.
"Now, Kou. Leave the basement, never come back down here and never tell anyone what you saw here." Teru orders.
Kou sighs, his head dropping as he grabs his phone and slowly makes his way back upstairs.
Teru turns once again to you. "Now, for you."
"How should I punish you? Isolation? Sleep deprivation?" Teru chuckles, thinking of all the things he could do.
"I think sleep deprivation sound suitable, don't you?"
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maatryoshkaa · 5 years ago
Text
young god | chapter 3
serial killer!han jisung au
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chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11| 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | epilogue |
word count: 2.7k
warnings: mature language
description: hyunjin teases you about the blind date when you come in for work. meanwhile, your first therapy session with jisung leaves the both of you more than a little...jarred.
watch the trailer here!
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You burst through the cafe’s glass doors like a madman, hair tossed about by the early morning breeze and your bag slipping off one shoulder. Glow Cafe was packed, as it usually was at 8 a.m. on a Monday -- students and professors queuing up at the register for their early morning pick-me-ups. Behind the counter, amidst the sea of turned heads, a tall, brown-haired boy cocked an eyebrow at you.
“Well, well, well -- look who decided to show up to work. How was your blind date?”
Hwang Hyunjin snickered at your reddening face, pushing up his glasses with flour-covered fingers. The barista wiped his hands on his apron before pulling out the first batch of croissants of the day out from the oven.
You shot him a death glare as you took your place next to him, throwing on your own uniform over your clothes. Still smirking at you, Hyunjin balanced a cappuccino and a croissant on a tray before sliding it towards a girl.
“He didn’t turn out to be a serial killer or something, I hope?”
“Not a serial killer, and not a wanted criminal.” You leaned back on the counter, still catching your breath. “Unless--” you gave a melodramatic gasp -- “you count the crime of stealing my heart.”
Hyunjin made a gagging noise as he took an order and slid it towards you. “No way. So you’re saying it was a success? Felix is never going to shut up about this.”
You read the slip. Iced Americano, extra shot of espresso. Easy. “I know. Honestly, though, ‘jin, he was so freaking adorable, his smile--”
Hyunjin’s hand immediately cranked up the cafe’s speakers, jazzhop music effectively drowning out the rest of your sentence, and you laughed.
Hwang Hyunjin was the second friend you’d made at Miroh Heights, the first being none other than your now-wingman, Felix. Besides being an architecture and design major, Hyunjin was also the owner of one of the hottest coffee shops on campus -- Glow Cafe. It was first opened by his grandmother decades ago, and had fallen into his hands once he’d gotten into Miroh Heights. Nowadays, his grandmother stayed in the studio apartment above the cafe while Hyunjin ran the business.
The cafe began emptying near 10 o’clock, most students and professors having shuffled off to morning classes. You wiped your hands on your apron, and Hyunjin handed a cup of coffee to the last customer. Suddenly, his face lit up and he began waving at someone behind you. Windchimes jingled as the door opened, and you turned just in time to see Yang Jeongin step into the cafe. He had propped up his rusty bike outside, and both his hands were full with crates as he waddled towards the counter.
“How’s it going, Jeongin?” Hyunjin handed him a glass of water. The delivery boy set down the packages -- two boxes of coffee beans -- and pulled his earbuds out, grinning. 
“Pretty good -- I’m getting better at lifting, you know!” A soft Beatles track trickled out from his Walkman, and Jeongin pressed pause.
Hyunjin gave a low whistle. “Our Jeongin’s gaining some muscle, huh? Just wait ‘till your sophomore year, the girls are gonna eat you right up.”
You laughed as Jeongin’s ears turned red, Hyunjin continuing, “Just don’t end up head-over-heels like y/n is right now, you hear?”
Jeongin raised his eyebrows, turning to face you. “You’re seeing someone? Well, if y/n likes him, then I’m sure he’s a really good person.” Ignoring Hyunjin’s dramatic eye roll, you grinned and gave Jeongin finger guns, which he returned with a laugh.
After helping Hyunjin and you haul the shipments into the storage room, Jeongin pulled out a long list of deliveries from his jeans pocket. “Coffee beans, check. Ah!” He tossed a bundle of newspapers onto the counter. “Here’s the morning paper, too.”
Hyunjin peered at the list, clapping the younger boy on the back. “Damn, Jeongin -- I don’t know what the entire campus would do without you. You should invest in a driver’s license sometime, it’d make your job a lot easier.”
Jeongin laughed, folding up the list and hopping on his bike. “I can’t...I can’t pay for one yet. It’s alright, though,” he added quickly. “I like my bike just fine. Well, I’m gonna get going now, see you guys tomorrow!”
When Jeongin had gone, Hyunjin pulled up a chair and unfolded the newspaper. His smile froze on his face as he read, eyes suddenly widening in horror. You frowned. “What’s wrong?” 
He held up the newspaper, waving you over. 
MURDER AT MIROH HEIGHTS, 
the headlines screamed. A photograph of a small flat, burnt nearly to the ground, stared back at you as you read the caption out loud.
“A sudden fire broke out on the outskirts of Miroh Heights at around 12:00 a.m. this morning. The remains of a young woman have been found amidst the cinders, but the body has not yet been identified. Witnesses report seeing a young man escaping the fire, leading police to suspect this was the work of an arsonist. If you have any information, please call the Miroh Police Department immediately.” You looked at Hyunjin, wide eyes mirroring yours. “Arsonist? Here?”
He shook his head, sighing. “That’s messed up. Hopefully they figure it out soon.”
You bit your lip. “I hope so, too.”
                                                    ----------------
“You should all have picked someone to be your patients by now, yes? Be sure to schedule your first session with them within the next week, we will be discussing your findings next class.” Your professor gave a curt nod. “Class dismissed.”
You fumbled with your phone as you shuffled out of the lecture hall, fingers hovering over Jisung’s contact. Your heartbeat was already quickening as you skimmed over possible messages in your head. How was one supposed to break the ice after the first date? What if he had already forgotten about agreeing to the whole thing? Would you make it awkward?
You were still having a mini mental breakdown when your phone screen lit up, and a new message popped up.
💌 Jisung: good evening! i believe this is dr. l/n?
💌 Jisung: i was wondering if i could book my first appointment ;)
You stared back at your phone, smiling like an idiot, and barely resisted the urge to jump up and down like an elementary schoolgirl.
You: you certainly can. how does 7 at my place sound?
💌 Jisung: send me the address, and i’ll be there 😊
Clutching your phone to your chest and inwardly squealing, you ran back home, smile vanishing from your face the moment you opened your front door.
You had never thought your apartment was a mess until this moment. For the next hour you were flying from room to room collecting empty coffee cups, hiding strewn laundry, and washing dirty dishes. You hadn’t even had time to grab a bite to eat before the clock hit 7:00 P.M. and a light knock sounded on your apartment door, the doorbell making you yelp.
You straightened your shirt, ran a hand through your dishevelled hair, and with a shaky breath, you opened the door. Sure enough, Jisung grinned back at you. “Hey.”
He was wearing a grey hoodie and jeans, a black cap over his dark blond hair, and your favourite smile on his face.
“Hey yourself,” you replied, a little breathlessly, and cleared your throat. He had a white plastic bag in one hand, and held it up.
“Felix said your class ends at 6, so I thought you might be hungry,” he explained. “I didn’t know what you liked, but there’s this new Chinese place and honestly, it smells pretty good--”
He was right. You hadn’t eaten since noon, and the delicious scent that wafted from the bag made your mouth water. “I love you,” you blurted, eyes staring at the food, and slapped a hand over your mouth. Your gaze dropped to the ground, cheeks on fire. “Um! I--I--sorry.” Please tell me I didn’t just say that, please tell me I didn’t just--
Several mortifying seconds of gnawing on your lips and fidgeting furiously had gone by before you finally risked a peek at Jisung’s face. He was watching you squirm with amused eyes, his expression of equal shock slowly melting into...the biggest, smuggest smirk you had ever seen.
“This is going a bit faster than I thought it would, but I can’t say I’m complaining,” Jisung tilted his head at you, leaning on the doorframe.
Not able to hold his gaze, you squeaked, “just--just come in,” and practically bolted to your living room, praying to every deity you knew for a hole to swallow you up. 
Behind you, Jisung chuckled, shaking his head and following you in. You were adorable.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” You asked, after you’d regained composure and he’d set the food on the coffee table. “You can still say no if you want.”
Jisung frowned, snapping a pair of chopsticks and stabbing a piece of sweet and sour chicken. “Why would I do that? I’ve just captured your heart with Chinese takeout. I’m not about to blow this chance.” He winked, holding it up to your lips. “Ahh.”
Cheeks flaming, you ate it, and he beamed proudly. Swallowing hard, you pulled your notebook and a pen from your bag, shakily scrawling Psych Analysis Patient: Han Jisung at the top.
You ran a finger over the list of questions you’d written down in class, and settled for the first one. “Have you ever seen a therapist before?”
Jisung’s brow was furrowed in deep concentration as he spun noodles around his chopsticks. “A couple.”
You wrote that down. “What for? If you don’t mind me asking,” you added quickly.
Jisung shook his head. “It’s fine. It was when I was...younger. Mandatory psych evals in school, that sort of thing.”
You nodded, looking at the next question. “What’s on your mind right now?”
“On my mind?” Jisung repeated, chuckling. “The fact that I’m on a second date with a pretty girl?”
Burying your tomato-red face behind your notebook, you barely got the follow-up question out. “And how does that make you feel?” Gosh, you could feel his stare on you even through the paper.
“How do you make me feel, you mean?”
“S-sure.”
“Honestly?” You heard him pause, as if deliberating the words. “You make me a little...crazy.”
You stifled a laugh. “Elaborate?”
“Racing thoughts, rapid heartbeat, maybe a palpitation here or there
”
Jisung trailed off, and that was when you looked at him. His tone had been teasing, flirty, but the look on his face was completely blank, eyes dark and wide. You gulped, scribbling down some notes before moving onto another question.
“Has anything been...bothering you recently?”
At this, Jisung set down his chopsticks and slid closer to you on the couch. Your heartbeat quickened inevitably when he did so, but you held his gaze -- those same intense, black eyes that had sent chills down your spine at the diner.
“Yes, actually.”
“Do you...do you want to talk about it?”
For the first time, it was Jisung who broke eye contact. “Nothing...much, really. A little trouble sleeping. Bad dreams. A lot of things on...on my mind.” He smiled. “Finals season, you know?” 
You nodded, tapping the pen against your bottom lip. “And on a scale of 1-10, how would you rate your mood at the moment?”
Jisung hummed before grinning cheekily. “A 10.”
Raising an eyebrow, you asked, “A 10? Why?”
“Because I’m with you,” Jisung replied simply. “I don’t know why, but you make me feel...happy.”
His words should have made you roll your eyes, they should have felt cheesy beyond belief -- but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t find a drop of insincerity in his voice. And that, you were beginning to realize helplessly, was what made you want to fall head over heels with Han Jisung. 
“What would reduce your mood to a 9?”
Jisung looked thoughtful. “If you, say, took back the “I love you” from earlier?”
You smacked him lightly, the mischievous grin on his face making your heart do somersaults. Just like that, the atmosphere had turned playful again. “What would make you an 11, then?”
“Maybe...let me...feed you?”
You gave a long exhale, closing your notebook. “I hope you have a defibrillator or something, Han Jisung.”
His face lit up into a comical expression of joy as he reached for the takeout box, blowing lightly on bites of noodles and chicken before holding them up to your mouth expectantly.
As Jisung watched you eat, a flustered smile on your face, he felt one tug at his own lips. It made his heart skip in panic. There were only a few times when he smiled without thinking. Two, actually, now that he thought about it.
One, right after killing. When the voices finally shut up.
And two, every single moment he was around you.
He found himself lost in the sound of your laughter: pure music that seemed to clear his head and make him focus on only your voice; he was mesmerized by your smile: bright as the flash of a camera and always catching him off guard. 
It terrified him how much he wanted to keep being the one to make you smile, blush, happy. He wanted to hear you talk about anything and everything. He wanted to tell you about his nightmares. He wanted to bring you to visit his mother’s grave.
The evening flew by, the two of you talking and watching the sunset through the living room window. Before you knew it, pinpricks of stars were appearing, a gibbous moon hanging in the velvet night sky. Like magnets, you and Jisung had gravitated closer with each passing hour, his arm ending up around your shoulders as you rested your head on his soft hoodie. You felt closer, too -- the polite back-and-forth of generic questions had gradually ceased, giving way to more natural, comfortable conversation.
Finally, you caught yourself beginning to fall asleep in Jisung’s arms and jolted awake. “Oh, my gosh, look at the time. Are you okay getting home this late? I don’t think the campus buses run at this hour
”
Jisung opened his half-lidded eyes to see your worried face, bathed in moonlight, and felt as if all the air had been knocked out of his chest. Your features looked so soft, one side of your cheek rosy from where you’d laid it on his shoulder. 
His peripheral vision was staining with red.
“...or you could stay the night? Oh gosh, don’t take that the wrong way, it’s just we’re already half asleep and
”
Flashes of her face seemed to replace yours like jagged puzzle pieces, her voice seeping into your words. And all Jisung could feel was the warmth consuming him from the inside out, like a spark had just gone off inside his rib cage and was beginning to burn.
“I’ll go,” he blurted, cutting you off. “I have to--I--I’m gonna go.”
You were studying his face, brow furrowed. Your gentle fingers felt like fire on his skin. “Are you okay? You look...feverish.”
“I’m fine.” He forced himself to stand, gathering the takeout boxes into the white plastic bag. “I’ll throw these on my way out. Sorry for staying so long--”
You reached out and pulled him into a hug. He smelled vaguely of smoke, the sudden sharp smell poking your nose. Not able to look him in the eyes, you buried your head into his chest, your mumble muffled by his hoodie. “You’re welcome here as long as you want. Are you sure you’re okay?”
Jisung was silent for several long moments before you felt his hand smooth through your hair, gingerly patting your head. “I’m fine,” he repeated, “don’t worry.”
His dark eyes were unreadable as both his hands moved to cup your face. He leaned in, pressing the softest of kisses to your forehead. Jisung’s lips barely grazed your skin, and yet you felt electricity shoot down your body, blood rushing to your cheeks and leaving you stammering.
“Sweet dreams,” he murmured against your temple and, as if snapping out of a trance, pulled away, disappearing into the darkness behind your apartment door as it closed shut.
1K notes · View notes
starryseo · 5 years ago
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purify. [3/3] | seo changbin
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the gif has absolutely no relevance but holy shit it’s beautiful
pairing ↠ changbin x gn!reader genre ↠ humour, fluff, the boys are Bad Bros wc ↠ 2550 summary ↠ the gang comes to your rescue. naturally, chaos ensues. warnings ↠ swearing, a lot of dirty jokes (this is peak dumbassery for the boys)  a/n ↠ please don’t do any of this at home. but if you do, let me know how it goes!
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read:  mess (part one) | mayhem (part two) | PURIFY
series masterlist
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Fact: Seo Changbin was not a tall man, by any means.
And yet taming this wild beast of a boy was no easy feat - especially after Woojin, Taekwondo maestro and Kendo wizard, took a knee to his nethers and was out of the game.
Changbin had headlocked Jisung who, in turn, had kicked out reflexively at Hyunjin which had Hyunjin toppling over onto Seungmin. And now, Seungmin was sitting on Hyunjin’s back (as he screamed about how he can’t fucking breathe with this bitch on me), punching his ass and Jisung was turning redder than a hot chili. Jeongin was, thankfully, recording this from a safe distance, so when the day was over and done with, none of you ever forgot the beautiful memories that transpired on this fine evening.
You were nursing Woojin back to health, but Changbin had landed a solid kick to his nuts and he was still whimpering in pain as you held an ice pack to his unfairly-thick thighs - the poor, poor man - and you made sure to add kick bin’s tic tac to your to-do list. Nobody hurts Woojin and gets away with it.
Chan, who had been underneath Changbin this entire time, has stopped screaming - you’re pretty sure he’s unconscious now - and it takes Minho and Felix both pouring water over Changbin for the chaos in front of you to stop.
Jisung’s wheezing filled the room and Changbin was heavily panting out his frustration. “I’m not," he huffed, “a demon. Now- fuck off.”
“You’re an-” a loud, shuddering inhale from Jisung, “an asshole.”
“Holy shit,” - holy shit, Chan was alive! - “your bony ass was stabbing me.”
“Serves you right,” Changbin gloated, finally moving off of Chan to slump against the sofa.
“We’re adding squats to your workout,” Chan continued, rolling over before wincing and rolling back, “Someone massage me, please, I think I’m dying.”
“Stop being a baby,” Seungmin replied, and it was only then that you all noticed he was covering Hyunjin’s mouth with one hand and pummelling Hyunjin with the other.
“Oh, fuckin’ hell, get off him,” Minho laughed, making no move to actually help Hyunjin out.
You pulled Seungmin back by his shoulder and he easily fell off of Hyunjin, giving the other boy a blissful reprieve from a brutal spanking.
“I need a massage, too,” Hyunjin groaned, tenderly rubbing his ass and recoiling, “holy shit, this burns, what the fuck, man?”
Seungmin shrugged, “You hit me first, man. War is fair shit, y’know?”
“That’s not how the saying goes, you prick.” Hyunjin’s pout had you aww’ing, sitting down cross-legged in front of him so he could rest his head on your lap.
He sighed and nuzzled in further, placing your hands atop his head, urging you to massage him. You snorted but acquiesced, running your fingers through the strands, “Want me to kiss it better, too?”
“Yes please, babe,” Hyunjin replied, eyes closed and mindless tracing shapes onto your leg.
Changbin kicked Hyunjin’s ass after that which had the latter gripping your thigh reflexively and growling, “What the fuck?”
Your mind couldn’t even begin to process how hot that sounded - seriously, you’d seen Hyunjin proudly burp the alphabet, yet this one moment had you weak in the knees?
Pathetic.
“Y/n’s my babe, duh,” Changbin shrugged and you rolled your eyes when he shot you a wink.
“Bastard,” Hyunjin grumbled, sighing out and closing his eyes once more.
“I hate to interrupt this cute-as-shit moment between you all, but are we forgetting why we came here?” Felix questioned, hands on his hips, looking like a disappointed Superman because everyone was relaxing instead of un-demonising Changbin.
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A second outbreak ensued after Felix’s announcement - his words had somehow enlivened them all, Woojin leaped up, Hyunjin and Seungmin tag-teamed and took down Changbin, Chan’s back pain was still there, sadly - but this was much more successful than their first takedown attempt.
You stayed on the safe side once more, massaging Chan’s shoulders - holy shit, the man was broad - and maybe your hands slipped to feel his biceps but neither of you were complaining; you’re pretty sure Chan was flexing, just to show off, too, and damn, was that a great life experience. You prayed to God that nothing would ever make you forget the feeling of his muscles beneath your hands.
Hyunjin and Seungmin were now sitting on each of Changbin’s arms; Minho was shirtless - what a sight that was - as he’d used his top to tie Changbin’s legs together; Felix was cooing, gently brushing Changbin’s head as he muttered, “It’s all gonna be okay, baby, I’m here for you, we’ll get through this, yeah?”
Woojin was slumped on the sofa, holding the wet ice pack to his face because Changbin had managed to headbutt him near the start of this fiasco. It was just not his day.
After hauling Changbin into his room and ever-so-gently dropping him onto his bed, the boys took a breather.
“Damn,” Chan whistled, looking around Changbin’s room, “you cleaned this up nicely, y/n.”
“It was me, asshole!” Changbin exclaimed, a proud grin on his face, “I tidied up.”
“Sure you did, Bin,” Seungmin rolled his eyes, “We believe you.”
“Y/n,” Changbin whined in response, “Tell ‘em the truth.”
“Of course it was all me,” you smirked, “Changbin just supervised all my hard work.”
“Sweet, wanna help me and Lix out, too, then?” Jisung popped in, sending an overly-sweet smile your way.
“Nope, nevermind, it was all Bin, he’s your man.”
“He is my man,” Felix sighed dreamily, laying beside Changbin in bed.
“Alright, let’s get him ready,” Minho said, dragging in a duffel bag - when did that get here? - as he entered.
From his position, Felix easily rolled on top of Changbin as the others held down whatever flying limbs they could. 
Just as they all managed to pin him down, Minho whipped out handcuffs, the fiery red cuffs immediately drawing everyone’s attention.
“Why
” Chan started, loosening his grip on Changbin’s leg, but he was too shocked to move anyway, “Why on Earth do you have handcuffs?”
“Do you see me questioning your kinks?” Minho drawls, walking over to Changbin who just stares in wonder at Minho.
“Right,” Chan coughed, grabbing onto Changbin’s leg once more, “forget I asked.”
“That’s what I thought, daddy,” Minho teased, shooting a wink over his shoulder to Chan who had a pretty pink blush tainting his cheeks.
The sound of the cuffs clicking seemed to break everyone out of their stupor; you viewed Changbin laying down on bed like that - arms restrained above his head - in a whole new light, and the sight had you snickering.
“You like being tied up, Bin?” you teased, pinching his cheek and, despite having his wrists tethered to his headboard, he tried reaching out for you anyway.
The cuffs pulled him back, clinking against the board as he growled, “Watch your ass when I’m outta these, y/n, you’re so dead.”
You pouted. “Don’t they feel good, though, Binnie?”
You trailed your finger around his wrist, feeling the fluffy material of the cuffs and, you definitely should have expected this - but whatever brain cells you had probably died when you were feeling up Chan - because the next thing you knew was that your own wrist was being grabbed by Changbin’s hand, and damn was his grip strong.
“Let go,” you groaned, trying to pull your hand away, but Changbin was mighty and relentless. “Help me!” You pleaded to the other boys who stood there and watched - Jeongin was still filming (pay respects to his phone storage) as the others just laughed at the turn of events.
“Stay there,” Minho replied, returning to the bag, “Keep him occupied while we do this.”
“Keep him occu- What the hell am I supposed to do?”
“Well, he is tied up, you could
 you know...” Minho trailed off and you stared at him dully as he kept raising his brows suggestively.
“Nope, no, you do not have my consent, y/n,” Changbin shook his head, grip on your wrist tightening.
“Oh my God, ew, I would never,” you scoffed.
“Why the hell not, what’s wrong with me?” Was Changbin being serious right now?
“Holy shit, where do I start?”
“Maybe y/n’s just jealous?” Jisung interrupted. He continued when you and Changbin raised your brows in question. “Maybe they wanna be tied up instead?”
Changbin turned to you with a smirk, raising his eyebrows teasingly and you rolled your eyes, facepalming with your free hand. 
“Being on top is great,” Felix randomly interjected, leaning his chin on Changbin’s chest.
“Yeah, I can really feel your happiness,” Changbin snickered, and that remark had you all shrieking in disgust.
“Gross, Lix, what the hell, dude?” Jisung exclaimed, punching Felix’s shoulder.
“You popped a- a- Ew, fuck dude!” Hyunjin sputtered, jumping off the bed and away from his perch beside Felix.
“No!” Felix yelled, instantly sitting up and straddling Changbin, “Look, I haven’t!”
“Oh fuck- No one’s gonna look!” Chan said, immediately turning his face to the ceiling.
“I’m looking,” Minho smirked, “And so is y/n-”
“No, I’m not-”
“He’s safe, don’t worry. Woojin you can open your eyes again.” Minho dumped the contents of the bag onto Changbin’s bed, a wide variety of objects and food tumbling out. “Onto more
 pressing matters.”
(He smirked when Felix muttered Fuck you.)
“Grab some shit, ladies, let’s get to work.” Minho stated, grabbing a blindfold.
Jisung jumped to pick something up first, but he groaned when he couldn’t open up the cheesy nacho sauce jar. His hands were red from trying to twist the top off, and he whined when it still wouldn’t budge. “It’s so hard!”
You snorted, “That’s what Felix said!”
Felix shot a nasty glare your way. Tough crowd.
“Give it here,” Chan said, holding his hand, “you just need to grip it right before you twist.”
From the lewd smirk he shot your way, you knew exactly what was going through Changbin’s mind. You rolled your eyes because of course his mind jumps to the gutter, how typical.
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You haven’t ever taken part in an exorcism - at least you could tick that off your bucket list now - but you were pretty sure whipped cream and feather dusters weren’t usually part of the ritual.
Seungmin had pulled out a bluetooth speaker and was playing some Latin chants out loud as they all began to work on Changbin.
This was more revenge for all of the times Changbin had played you all and you wondered why none of you had thought to do this sooner. Five years of torture and you only got your revenge now? You were slacking.
Changbin’s grip on your wrist didn’t cease - really, it only got tighter when the others began their tormenting - but he loosened up whenever it was too tight.
With your restricted movement, you resorted to just pinching whatever parts of Changbin you could reach. You started with his cheeks, squishing them together until he pouted and you moved on to pulling his ears then flicking his neck.
Eventually, you got tired. You nudged his shoulder and he shuffled along his bed as best as he could. You sat down, mindlessly tracing his red cheeks, booping his nose which he promptly scrunched to look like a bunny. Your hand found its way into his hair and you messed around with the strands, twirling them around your fingers as you leaned your head against the headboard.
You gave up on focussing on what the others were doing.
Chan had spread jam on Changbin’s hands, Seungmin had poured water on Changbin’s socks - Woojin had even signed his forehead. God, this was a disaster.
You stopped watching when Minho began taking off Changbin’s belt. 
After some time - about ten minutes, but the boys had done some seriously-traumatic damage - they all stopped, dropping whatever was in their hands and slumping on the floor.
“By the power vested in me,” Minho started, voice half-muffled as he spoke into the floor, “I condemn your demon ass back home.”
“S’it finally over?” Changbin groaned, nudging you with his shoulder. He had long since let go of your wrist but you had made no move away from him, finding comfort in just resting beside him. You had, however, removed the blindfold a while ago, so he was mentally preparing everyone’s (except yours, of course) cruel demise.
“Alrighty,” Jisung said, jumping up from the ground and clapping loudly to invigorate everyone, “Let’s haul ass, boys!”
“Yep, have fun cleaning this shit up!” Hyunjin said, and the rest of the boys followed him out of the room.
Were they seriously just leaving you with this mess?
Holy shit, there was ketchup on the ceiling, and mayo on the lamp? What the hell had they been doing?
You were too stunned to stop them because there was no way they were leaving you to clear this shit up, but the slam of the front door informed you that yes, that was exactly what they had done.
Assholes.
“Can you please untie me now?”
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After releasing the cuffs, Changbin had eased into his bed, despite all the questionable substances on his sheets. The man went through a fate worse than Hell for ten whole minutes, and you felt kind of bad. 
So, you got up despite your aching neck - slouching on the headboard was not your smartest idea - and headed to the bathroom. You turned the tap on, filling the tub up before you pulled out some new sheets from the cupboard and headed back into his warzone of a room.
His eyes were closed, but he wasn’t sleeping. “What’re you doin’?” He slurred, shuffling on his bed and groaning when some orange sauce trickled down his neck.
“Cleaning up,” you laughed, moving to help him sit up, “I started a bath for you, go.”
He trudged out of the room and you groaned, staring at the disaster in front of you.
Just yesterday, his room was sparkling brighter than Edward Cullen, and now? His socks were hanging off the lights.
You stripped away his bed sheets, dumping them on the floor, but the room was still a shitshow and it was way too late - holy shit, it was past 3am, so too early - to try cleaning the room. You quickly put on the new bedsheets and decided that, after this hellish day, he could sleep in your bed. The man deserved something nice after having Felix straddle his thighs.
“Yo, y/n!” Changbin called out from the bathroom, “Mind bringing me some clothes?”
You grabbed some fresh nightwear out of his cupboard and some Pokemon boxers because obviously he had those filling his drawer. After passing those to him through the door’s opening, making sure not to peek because you didn’t want to be scarred for life with a naked Changbin, you waited for him to come out.
He wordlessly followed you back to your bedroom, turning the lights off and taking your offer to share the bed.
“I could’ve slept on the sofa, y’know,” he mumbled, voice drifting into a yawn.
“S’not that comfy,” you murmur, “just sleep.”
“Night, babe.”
“G’night, Bin.”
And if either of you woke up cuddling the other, not a word was mentioned to the other boys.
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actually-impostor · 5 years ago
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A big brother’s job
Warnings: writer isn’t a fan of “Sleep” so he isn’t portrayed in a nice way, also, unsympathetic Patton because of mayor personal reasons.
Threats, aggressive imaginary, head injury, non graphic violence, Virgil gets pushed down the stairs but not explicitly, however the story centers on mostly that soooo. Deceit goes more snake than human during a long part of the story. Don’t know what else to type.
AO3 Link
Under the cut
Deceit isn't one for panic - is not really his territory so he steers clear away from the emotion he has no right to manipulate - so when he sees his younger brother on the floor by the stairs, a bruise noticeable near his forehead and a small trickle of blood, he admits to himself that the white cold flash of emotion he feels is unfamiliar.
He thinks, distantly, drowning by the sudden rush of panic, that the air is suddenly lacking and what little air is around is far colder than usual.
When he finally manages to make his body move he is shocked into silence by the one at the top of the stairs. REM - looking as nonchalant as ever and with his ever-present Starbucks - smiles at him and waves, like Virgil is not on the floor and probably with a concussion.
"Virgil!"
He's by his side in less than a blink, carefully moving his hands in the air, and avoiding touching places he doesn't know if he can - What if his arm is broken? Can he move Virgil's head? Oh God, what if he fractured something? A rib? A leg? Can his brother even move?!
When he hears a burst of despondent laughter his cold panic transforms into burning rage. He moves his seething gaze at Sleep, who had been staring at them with a smirk and a cocked hip, and hisses. He knows it's not intimidating enough for the representation of Thomas's sleep circles, but no way in hell is he gonna let that stop him.
"What the fuck happened here?!" If his words are slurred by the sudden descent of his fangs, poison pooling in the sacs that usually keep his venom in storage, he ignores it resolutely and concentrates on glaring even harder at REM.
"I finally managed to make Thomas sleep, like, there's no way I'm letting Him" he stares at Virgil with disdain, his nose scrunching like smelling something foul "ruin all my hard work, girl"
"He doesn't sleep in the first place because of you" A part of Deceit wonders if his words are even understandable, S's curling and expanding, subvocal hissing starting at full force, making him sound more like an animal than he is used to.
Deceit knows for sure that if he were to stare in a mirror right this second the scales that cover only part of his face would be expanding to cover most of it, yellow eye flashing in the harsh artificial light and amber eye light with energy that he knows is not human. He knows that if he looks in a mirror he would see his fangs, out of their hiding place and dripping with venom and poison and harsh words he knows are more than enough to kill someone - because it wouldn't be the first time.
He knows his tongue would be completely forked instead of the slight split it has during his good days, he knows his mouth would be splitting into the other side - the side that's 'normal' - to give him opportunity to fully open his mouth even if it means dislocating it, because he is not fully snake and even if his jaws are not rigidly attached to the skull he does not have the gymnastic-like ability his kin does.
He knows he looks more animal, and his instincts are roaring at him, begging him to attack, to curl himself up and spring and destroy tissue to inflict his poison and see the threat writhing on the floor in agony because how dare they hurt Virgil?!
When REM only scoffs at him, shaking his now empty cup of Starbucks, and cleans an invisible speck of dust on his jacket Deceit feels the need to kill and eat like he hasn't since Virgil helped him curl his more animalistic desires.
"Why the drama girl? He's annoying and I stopped him, duh"
"What the fuck did you do?!"
"He tried to come and interrupt Thomas so I just, like, gently pushed him outta the way!" he raises his hands in exasperation like this is not his fault "No need to be so growly!  The girl is clumsy so he fell!"
"Bullshit!"
Deceit isn't sure what happens first.
He is not sure if he first throws himself up the stairs, or if he spits venom at REM, or what. The only thing he is aware of is that the representation of the sleep circle is now paralyzed and Deceit is pretty certain that his hand is the one holding Sleep's neck and squeezing.
He wants to bite him, to see his venom burning Sleep from the inside. But he can't, he knows he can't because he promised and he has never hated a promise as much as he does in this second.
Putting some distance with Sleep he hisses, threatening and protectingly, a conflicting mass of emotions that force his normally cold temperature to rise worryingly. His face is so close to Remy's neck and if he could just bite him, but no. He takes a deep breath and forces the fangs away, enough so his speech is not as slurred as it has been for the duration of the conversation
"Disappear out of here, and if I ever see you next to my hatchling again I'll make sure my venom stays in your system for as long as I can deceive the others. And believe me" He leans closer to his neck, putting more pressure there and cutting REM's terrified gasp "I've been deceiving them since I hatched, and I'll keep doing so"
When he lets go he eats a cloud of smoke thanks to Sleep's disappearance. He hisses in displeasure and then hurriedly forces his body to go back to the careful equilibrium he usually keeps, he needs to make sure Virgil is okay, and if his fangs keep dropping venom then Deceit himself would be a danger for his younger brother.
When he goes back down the stairs he kneels before his brother with a whimper escaping his throat no matter how hard he tried to keep it in. Raising a careful hand, he pushes Virgil's hair out of his face so he can see what he's working with. It doesn't look good.
He knows rationally that head injuries bleed far more than usual no matter how small the cut, but really, this is looking anything but nice no matter how he looks at it.
"Virgil, brat, kid, come on dork wake up"
"Deedee?"
"Vir, Anx, come on brat open your eyes"
"M' head hurts"
"I know, that's why I need you to open your eyes, come on, do that for your older brother"
Deceit knows he still is being gripped tightly by his panic, he knows Virgil -being Anxiety and all that- can probably feel it more keenly than Deceit himself. Even though he knows all that, and he knows he has to calm down so Virgil won't feel terrified, he can't help but feel the fear and surprisingly paralyzing terror flood his veins.
He takes out his phone and prays - prays to a God he has no opinion on, to a God he never dared to pray before - that Morality answers.
When the call connects he doesn't even bother greeting him, just screaming at him to get to the stairs in the outside world and help because, otherwise, Deceit is going to lose his mind.
Seeing Patton has never been such relief as at the moment, especially when Deceit hasn't even hung up yet. When Patton sees Virgil on the floor his first instinct is to cry, the other is to scream at Deceit and demand an explanation as to what happened.
Deceit explains, doing his best to control the sub-vocal hissing that is still attached to most of his words and praying that Patton can decipher his speech when it becomes obvious he is hissing more than talking. For a second the idea of calling for Logan and Remus forms in his head, but he dismisses it.
Remus won't be calm enough to help, and Logan is not yet an expert on Deceit's hissing to work as a translator. He takes another deep breath and starts over.
Carefully explaining what he can and skipping what he knows will get him in trouble - he doesn't think Patton will approve of him threatening REM, no matter the reason - he shares the tale. When he finishes Patton nods, dismissive, and concentrates back on Virgil.
One part of him is pleased that Morality considers Virgil's head injury more important than anything. The other part is simmering in rage by the dismissive nature of Patton.
REM won't get on any problem, Deceit knows it, he knows Patton will maybe give him a stern talking to and let him go on his way without even a slap on the wrist. Because REM is considered "good" because REM made sure to be friendly in front of Patton no matter what, and because REM is perhaps a bigger liar than Deceit.
So he nods, stiffly, feeling his body still stuck in the dichotomy of his animalistic nature, and walks back. He is careful to give Patton space to work, and helps him when Patton tells him they have to take Virgil to his room.
Once both are there Patton stares at him, disdain and coldness stuck in his gaze and juxtaposing to the smile on his face.
"Thank you, you can leave now" He's all smiles as he explains, and Deceit feels rage bubbling back. When he opens his mouth to protest, to maybe even beg to be allowed near his baby brother, Patton cuts him off "I'm sure he wouldn't like to see you as the first thing when he wakes up, so do us a favor and leave"
Deceit wants to complain, to scream and poison him and destroy him, but he breathes deeply and nods, disappearing back to his room and collapsing on his knees.
Virgil won't remember this, Patton will make sure of it. Deceit can’t help but curse at the same god he prayed to.
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agiearts · 5 years ago
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Genre: Angst, fluff, Smut
Synopsis: Y/N is not enjoying the concert in Seoul due to harassment of the guy behind her pinning her to the barrier-fence. No one cares, no one notices, and no one takes actions until Jimin found the situation angering him.
A/N: I really hope you enjoy this one shot, it’s my most liked one on archived. So I hope you enjoy as well <3
Warning: Sexual Harassment 
He pushes me hard up against the fence which is separating the crowd from the stage. He holds my hips like he owns me, the music blasts, fans shout and my screams is easily confused to be similar. He thrusts against my ass to my cries, but no one notice. Several times he tries to kiss me but I refuse. I feel pinned and stuck, and I prayed for their concert to be over because I couldn’t concentrate with this harassing dude touching me, purposely taking advantage of the crowds disguise. I bawled my eyes out leaning over the fence nearly choking with the lack of air. Suddenly a certain someone saw my pain, heard my screams, but he had a job to continue.
The arena faded to dark only to the light-sticks dull enlightenment. Before the stage lights truly faded, his shadow unlike everyone else ran off. Two warm hands suddenly grabbed my shoulders from across the fence, and there’s a whisper to my ear. “I’ll help you over the fence”, his angelic voice was to identify at once. But my heart was already rushing with adrenaline so nothing changed as I got over the fence. Only the hint of relief hit me once his hands ripped away from me and i was dragged away.
Into the the slightest of light his identity was confirmed to what I thought. Jimin’s eyes looked worryingly at me, seeing the already red and bruised hands of mine from the forced grips, made his expression angry along with sorry. He handed me his water bottle to get me hydrated and to hopefully get me to calm down. “Stay here”, Jimin had no time to stay around and rushed back on stage.
I could hear their steps and voices, but then something interrupted it. A crew member had spotted me and marched hasty towards me as I was seen as a threat. “You’re NOT allowed to be here!” He grabbed my already bruised arm, dragging me painfully through several hallways to end up in an isolate room. I was thrown inside and cage within the four concrete walls. I banged on the door trying to explain. But like anyone would have believed my story
 literarily any fan would have come up with a similar excuse to meet them, only that my story wasn’t an excuse. Never had I believed things would turn out so horrible, all I wished for and payed for was seeing my idols perform. That was all I wanted
 Now I’m here, locked up in a isolated room, crying for help as I’m feeling the angst place itself up my throat.
The boys ends the show without any regrets or much hardship. Jimin rushed to redress into normalised clothing: white t-shirt, black hoodie, dark blue jeans and original yellow timberlands. He looked around finding her nowhere, he ended up asking the crew. Their answer made his fingers tighten in a fist, and he raised his voice slightly between his gritted teeth. “I got her back here! Where is she?”
I was locked in the old storage area and I was panicking. I placed myself into the very far corner as I kept staring at the door, praying for just anyone to open up. Then, the door suddenly burst open. Jimin walked with long steps toward me opening his arms. I let myself find comfort in his kindness. “I’ll get you out of here safely, don’t worry”. He grabbed my hand gently with his knowledge on my bruising, dragging me back all the hallways from before, and through the rest of their group. They reacted confused, but they smiled apologetically once they saw my teary eyes. I felt so out of place, I wanted to disappear at the same time as it was so surreal that it still didn’t reach my mind who’s holding my hand. Jimin was shouted after by his fellow members, but he shut them out as the exit door closed behind us.
He flipped up his hoodie and covered his lips and nose behind a mask. He turned to me and smiled with his eyes so gently, reaching for my hand he intertwines our fingers like a couple. “Where do you live? I’ll walk you!” “Grand Hotel, I’m just visiting Seoul”. I’m just half Korean, but have lived here all my life. But in Ilsan, not in Seoul where my dad is born and raised.
Jimin kept me close as we were walking, both silent most likely because he would easily be recognised if overheard.
It was getting darker outside, nearly all light was gone. Walking in the entrance of the Hotel lobby I prepared myself to say goodbye to him. But that wasn’t his plan. “Which room?” He smiled at me behind the mask still holding my hand. “4-21, why?” “Just wanna make sure you get back safe, all the way”
During the short elevator trip I think It finally went up for me who was offering me help. Also he removed his mask, underlining the realisation. I felt the heat arouse in my system, my cheeks flushing red with him looking at me. Everyone said he was so short, but not to me. He was tall enough to lean his head to the top of mine if he stretched his neck just a little.
“What’s your name?”
“Oh, I’m Y/N”, I said shyly.
“Woah, such a pretty name!!” He smiled at me.
4th floor, he let go of my hand. I opened the Hotel room door and walked a few steps inside, Jimin stood in the door opening leaning against the door, keeping it from gliding shut. “I’m sorry what happened to you. I was going to act sooner but I couldn’t. And sorry I just had to leave you, but 
”
“Omg, Jimin it’s okay, I totally understand. Thank you so much”
He invited me in for another hug. And I knew from just the two I’ve received, that his hugs were the absolute best. But this one was more, idk what to call it
 electric maybe. He smelled so good, I just realised, and he was so warm and caring. As we pulled away from each other our space did not extend. His hand slid gently down my left side ending up resting at my hip, his right hand, to my surprise, cupped the left side of my face. His thumb wiping away remaining tears. Our eyes met and It felt as drowning or drifting through a galaxy. His smile faded to become blank-ish.
“Y/N
 Can I kiss you?..” He spoke so gently and low for just my ears.
“Really?”, I reacted with whispering in slight shock to his sudden request.
“Yeah”, he whispered very low as he closed his eyes while decreasing our distance, leaning slightly down. His plump lips suddenly presses up to mine, pecking them so sweetly. One intimate touch and all my senses swelled up. A kiss without sound, just a gentle little peck. But turning to so much more. I couldn’t hold myself back wanting “just one more”, Standing slightly on my toes i kissed him. His mouth went to dance with mine, clearly giving into it as well. He hummed pleasurable, “hmmm”, into it as he took a step towards me, pulling us even closer, and the door shut behind us. The kisses were no longer muted. Repeated small smack sounds and “hmmms” from him made me all warm and fuzzy inside.
I hadn’t realised his sudden struggling need before he tried speaking. His body was clearly exited with dissatisfaction, building up a scream for escape.
“I’m sorry Y/N, I didn’t intend this.” In my mind the sentence would stop there like the fair and soft boy he is, but he ended up revealing a side of him I never had thought existed. But believe it or not, Idols are humans too. He’s a boy, boys get horny...
“I helped you, and now suddenly it seems like I could need some help too
” he was still shy, but his little smirky smile was too honest.
He pulled me back into wet kisses. And i let him, let his hands glide to underneath my merch-sweater. Jimin realized the 5 lettered name written at its back, he was the one out of seven. I chose him, and it seems like he chose me.
He grabbed the back of my thighs underneath my ass, pulling me to hook my legs around him, not interrupting any kisses. He let me fall back into the sheets carefully. He leaned down to kiss my forehead before he unbuckled his belt and removed both mine and his shoes. As he took of his jeans his phone dropped out of the back pocket. His screen was overflowing with messages and missed calls, mostly from Hoseok and Jungkook. While most of the messages was from Namjoon.
I couldn’t read what it said, but did it really matter? Jimin did seem to avoid them anyway. I tried staying there in the moment, with him, Jimin...
He seems tense and tired, yet passionately loving and cuddly. He embraces me with lots of bare skin. Feeling his heat i gasp loudly, starting to feel my underneath pulsating with his close presence.
Our lips reconnects and his hands travel down, making me moan into his mouth as he suddenly press against my clit. I feel his smile against my cheek right before he starts trailing my neck with light suctions and tiny love bites.
I placed my hands to his tense shoulders, then pulling him in for a hug.
“Jimin...”, he didn’t even recognize it himself, how tense he was. I know they work hard, i know he lacks rest. “Oppa, Please relax”
“Call me that again!”
“Oppaaa”, i pouted playfully, with a slight giggle.
“Fuck, you sound good!” He was thriving as we continued kissing. His tongue licking into my mouth increasing the intensity.
His member was painfully hard, with the slightest touch he winced with a facial expression exploding with painful pleasure.
“Take your boxers off if it hurts”
He didn’t hesitate the slightest, kicking them off like he hadn’t done anything else. His thighs was so thick, along with his manhood above and between them.
Jimin pouted at me intensionally.
“If it hurts so much, can i help in anyway?”
A wild smirk spread across his face, and he leaned down to my neck as his naked body hovered over me. Two kisses placed up to my ear before he whispered into it with a low, sexy voice.
“Ride me baby!”
I had never rode anyone before, in fact just barely had sex in normal positions... or sex at all, so much experience wasn’t on my side. But something inside me really wanted to, a strong desire to sink down on his throbbing needy member.
I pushed him off me, rolling him over. Jumped off the bed only to easily slide the thong off. Jimin not taking his eyes of me once, his gems shone with impatience. Back on the bed i sat on his stomach feeling the uneven surface to my underneath. His short fingers helped me prepare, he already made me a slight mess above him. He smiled at me as i catches my breath.
“You look so beautiful under pleasure Baby!”
His hands held my hips, it was my turn. Alining, holding onto the sides of his stomach . He gently pushed me down on his length, stetting me with it all. We tried staying silent, i whimpered between my heavy fast breaths. Jimin leaned his head backwards opening his mouth letting out a moan, with a grunt following and i saw his adamb’sapple bop with his gulp. He bounced me once with surprise. And to his surprise i moaned a loud scream. He grunted again and smirked as i bit my lip to silence.
He started moving my hips to roll with his member inside me. His face bloomed with pleasure, and it decreased with struggle as i gently started moving up and down together with his motions.
“Ahhhh grrr.. Y/N-ah!” Jimin whimpered.
He made me fasten leaving us both loud. The room’s scent was a mix of manly cologne and rough sex, never thought it could be such an addicting smell.
With every thrust and bounce his cock stretched me out and hit the same spot of pleasure each time. I moaned his name with the knot building in my stomach.
“Jiminahh! Ah!”
“Come on baby! Cum for oppa!”
I clenched around him leaving my juices dripping down on his crotch. Pulling out, Jimin went immediately to finish his climax. His liquid spilling all over his abs, leaving it a sticky mess. I wiped it off for him with the towel nearby.
Both of us redressed slightly. He put on his boxers again, and before i knew he covered my torso with his white T-shirt.
He snatched my waist to collide with his, leaving my ass up against his crouch. He held me close, pulled the duvet to cover our bodies, cuddling me as we both continued to regain oxygen from our highs. I felt his breath brush to the back of my neck, his lips almost touching it as well. I could feel his arm push me down with it’s natural weight, he wasn’t tense anymore and i believe he managed to relax.
“Thank you sweetie. I loved that!” The words slip his and my heartbeat fastened.
It was all over, the concert, the unplanned sex, the time with him... i would all lose it in the morning. Like I wasn’t already crushing on him or rather deeply in love from before, but now... we suddenly had a connection. There was a feeling there that wasn’t the kind of love between a fan and an artist, i felt need, real hopeful need of waking up with him besides me. His wet sweet kisses to heat up my body, his real smiles up close with dimples to display.
Oh gawd what have i done...
“Y/N-ah? Hello??” Jimin had turned me, facing him and he waves his hands in front of my glare. I snapped out of the negative thoughts, but they left a reality effect to the situation.
“Something wrong?”
The expression on my face gave me away. I looked at him with a sudden tear sliding down my side.
“OH Y/N? What’s going on?”
“Sorry i troubled you Jimin, made you break rules... you shouldn’t be here, you should probably have been sitting alongside Jungkook working on new songs, or dance with Hoseok to practice new choreographies right now... yet here you are. With some fan that in reality will never be more than just that... a fan.”
“What do you think i am? A international fuckboy? Our fans is my world, you’re everything to me. I love you all, and i hope i state that enough. I may be crowded with girls, and are able to get anyone i would like at any time. But i don’t, because I don’t use girls that way. I respect them, their body’s and souls, their beauty and charms. “
“What Just happened between us was a mistake maybe, I don’t really know you, but i like you... I loved what we just did. I felt a type of connection from the first touch when i pulled you over the fence... But you’re right I shouldn’t be here, but i am and i’m not leaving yet either. I haven’t felt this down to earth and relaxed in months” Jimin spoke convincingly and real, straight from the heart.”
“You won’t?”
“No are you crazy! I don’t just have sex and leave, that’s prostitution! And you’re not a doll either. You’re beautiful, adorable and real good Y/N-ah!”
“Don’t worry, i can stay the night if you want. With cuddles, can’t live without!”
He wrapped himself closer around me, kissing my bare shoulder. He brushed along my arm with his fingers, making me sleepy as i was pretty tired.
-
A little space was left between us as we fell asleep. Both tired. Jimin’s eyelids shut with the weight they provided, yet he slept lightly.
My fantasy was running wild, why now out of any night... I was being loud, whimpering as he played with me inside my head.
My deep breaths and whimpers, and some slight moans joining in once in awhile, awakening the blonde boy besides me.
Laying there he stared at me with awe and a tiny smirk across his face, probably not clueless to the lustful pictures in my unconsciousness.
I had a wet dream, something i’ve never ever had before.
I suddenly whisper his name with whispers developing afterwards.
“Jimin-ah!”
Jimin couldn’t hold himself from granting it. He planted both his hands to either side of my body holding his own above mine, leaning down kissing me to senses.
“Having a wet dream about me sweetie?” He smirked at me from above.
I felt the warmth pulsate in my body as he said it and I understood i’d been loud.
“Rude of you not to share it with me” His body went on top of me, he cuddles to my chest. Then leaving hickeys to my neck and by my collarbones.
“Jimin...”, he looked up at me.
“Please kiss me again...”
I didn’t need to ask twice. But with his kiss i teared up slightly, but tried my best to keep the sadness hidden from him.
He sat down besides me, pulled me to his lap and kept me close to his chest. We intertwined out hands.
“Before i fell asleep last night... I couldn’t strop staring at you.” Jimin blushed.
“I started thinking.. so i’ve been thinking.. I trust you... so can you keep a secret?”
I nodded.
“Give me your phone”
He opened the camera, made it face us and i just cuddled up to him as he did the same, for the photo. He saved it with a new contact.
“There i’ll send the photo to my phone aswell. You can keep us secret right?”
“Can you do that?” I asked him.
“Not really, that’s why it’s a secret! I don’t just wanna leave you now.. i haven’t been able to relax like this in ages! I would need someone like you when i’m not able to relax... also i’ve never really met someone like you before” portraying me his eye smile!
“What you mean!”
“I mean i like you, and maybe i want to keep seeing you... Even though I won’t have time. I’m not telling you to wait for me, but someone to text time to time would have been great”
I didn’t know what to answer, but...
“I’ll wait for you, if you want to!”
Jimin smiled and giggled, kissed me deeply before leaving the bed.
“Then i’ll text you some time then” He smiled towards me as he redressed what he had left of clothes as he rejected the t-shirt as i offered to give it back to him.
“I hope so” my cheeks burned.
He kissed my forehead. “I have to go now, have a lot to catch up on. But we’re not leaving Korea for another month now... sooo.. see u around maybe?”
I smiled and nodded shyly before he had to leave.
-
Jimin continued to keep contact once in a while. Usually i just got some selfies here and there which i plastered my room with. And sweet “miss u” messages and “good nights”
We met up in secrecy time to time as well, he also granted me a new concert with them because he felt bad about the other one.
He was the sweetest, and though we always were apart i felt more loved than ever.
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lolainblue · 7 years ago
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Thunderbirds -- Chapter 44
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   I looked at the clock on the dash. It was still not quite 7 a.m. and I had a five hour plus drive ahead of me. These back to back shows didn't leave a lot of time for hanging out and catching up which is why I had wanted a longer visit, so we could maybe spend time in LA once it was over. It was also why we'd had no business going out and partying as hard as we had last night. It hadn't helped anything and now I was exhausted and hungover and desperately envied Shannon who was probably already sleeping it off in his bunk by now as someone else drove them to California. It was a horrible decision on every front, even before adding the drugs into the mix. I felt terrible for dragging Shannon down to my level.
   I tried to focus on the road but I was so tired and I began to think that I still wasn't entirely sober so I pulled over the first chance I got and had a few cups of strong coffee and some breakfast. I managed to get back on the road after that, feeling at least safe to drive if not enthusiastic about it, and somehow made it to the hotel a few hours before the show was supposed to start. I had been a little surprised the guys were staying in a hotel this close to home, but Jared had pointed out the shows were hours apart and they had been on the road for months, he didn't have time to go an open up his house just for two nights. Shannon had just laughed and pointed out that these days his place was a storage unit and Jared's sofa, having given up his apartment before the tour even started. I supposed it did make sense and at this point, I was glad to have somewhere to check into that I could get a shower and a nap before I needed to be at the festival.
   As late as we were out the night before, and as early as we had gotten up, I couldn't have gotten more than a couple of hours sleep. Add in the stress I had been under lately and the exhaustion from partying all night then driving all morning, and I shouldn't have been surprised when I slept right through my alarm. By the time I did wake up I realized I had missed the show. I figured they would be back here in another few hours, it wasn't worth fighting the traffic and crowds to get to the festival at that point to only turn around and come back, so I went back to sleep, my body finally insisting on getting some much-needed rest.
   When I woke up again I was starving and I wondered if I should grab something or wait for Shannon. I thought by then they should be back at the hotel so I got dressed and headed down to the lobby. The desk clerk eyed me suspiciously when I asked if the band had checked in, but after checking the computer and his security log he brightened and confirmed that Shannon and crew had indeed checked in already and wrote down the room number for me. Cheerfully I headed back up to the proper floor.
   As soon as I stepped off the elevator I saw Matt and Kevin in the corridor having a very animated discussion, although I couldn't quite catch what they were talking about. Kevin spotted me first and smacked Matt on the arm, causing him to turn my direction. I expected another scowl but I got a brief look of surprise and then a wide smile.
   “Jane, hi! I thought you were flying back to New York!” he exclaimed as he closed the distance between us.
   “Nope, just Roger,” I explained. “I was going to show up at the festival to surprise Shannon but I fell asleep. Too much partying last night.”
   “Well, I'm sure he's still going to be surprised. Want me to show you which room is his?” he offered.
   “No, I've got the number,” I said, waving the little paper the clerk had given me before walking off in the proper direction.
   “Uhm, Jane.. wait...” Kevin said. I stopped and turned around to find that they were following down the hall right behind me.
   “What?” I asked. The two of them exchanged significant looks and the smile on my face started to falter a bit.
   “Never mind,” Kevin said with a sigh.
   I started back towards Shannon's room but both guys were glued to my heels. Matt stopped at the door two before Shannon's and they both looked at me expectantly.
   I stood in front of Shannon's door, taking in their odd behavior, measuring it against all the odd behavior of the day before, against moments tucked in the corners of my awareness, and suddenly a hundred little things that didn't add up suddenly did. I froze in place as my mouth went dry and my stomach clenched up, listening for any telltale sounds coming from within the room. My whole world just stopped, caught between breaths, and as I prayed it wasn't true I knew that this was the last moment of “before”. As soon as I knocked on that door, I crossed into “after”. I sucked one shaking, shallow breath into my already aching lungs and let my knuckles drum against the wood. My shallow raps were echoed by much deeper ones and I turned to see Matt beating at the door he had stopped in front of. There was no response from Shannon's room, but I heard a loud noise, like something falling over and I knocked again.
   “Tell him to come to the fucking door,” I hissed at Kevin, stepping aside so as not to be seen through the peephole. Kevin's eyes were wide and he shook his head but Matt obliged, calling out to Shannon. The door Matt had been standing in front of opened and Jared leaned out into the hallway as Matt pointed in my direction. He didn't get a chance to say anything, however, as in that moment, Shannon's door finally opened.
   “What the fuck dude, I'm busy,” Shannon barked before catching sight of me. He was sweaty and shirtless, his unbuttoned jeans riding low on his hips and his hair a tousled mess. There would have been no hiding what he was doing even if I hadn't caught a glimpse of the topless girl in the room behind him. His expression dropped immediately, his face going red, then pale as he spluttered out my name in confusion.
   I honestly didn't know if my reaction was going to be tears or fury but when the girl pulled on her top while eyeing me and asking who the hell I was everything slid into the red and I just snapped. “What the fuck, Shannon?!” I shouted as I gave his bare chest a shove. “What the fuck?”
   “Jane, please, please let me explain...” he pleaded.
   “What could you possibly have to explain?” I shouted back. “It's not like you can accidentally fuck someone else. This isn't even the first time, is it?” Realization hit me like a truck. “Oh my God, everyone else knows about this but me, don't they? That's why they've all been so weird. Oh fuck, even fucking Roger knew and none of you told me!”
   “Jane....” Jared was behind me, calling to me in that soft soothing tone of voice I had heard him use on Roger before. “Can we not do this in the hallway?”
   I turned on him. “Fuck you. You knew what he was doing and you didn't say shit, didn't try to warn me at all.”
   “I wanted to tell you,” Matt said. I suddenly realized that all the scowling he had been doing was when I was standing next to Shannon. It wasn't for me.
   “It's not their fault, Jane. It's mine,” Shannon said. I turned around again.
   “You're damn right it's your fault asshole! How could you fucking do this to me, Shannon? Did you just think I wouldn't find out and that made it okay? Fucker!” I screamed at him and gave him another shove and then Jared was behind me, pushing me into the room with him. Matt and Kevin stepped in as well and grabbed the girl Shannon had been banging, who at least had her top on now, and they led her out, closing the door firmly behind them. Shannon adjusted his jeans and started looking around, presumably for a t-shirt.
   “I can't believe I fucking trusted you. I knew before I even saw you again what a piece of shit you had turned out to be. But you were so convincing on the phone....” I could feel hot tears running down my cheeks and I impatiently wiped them aside as my voice rose to a mocking sing-song. “I'll straighten myself out. I'll be who I  used to be. I love you, Janey. Please don't give up on me.”
   “Jane...”
   “FUCKING LIAR!!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, so loudly that words burned my throat as they flew past. “Everything that comes out of your mouth is lies, isn't it?”
   I looked at Shannon and his eyes were beginning to tear up. It didn't make me any more sympathetic towards him. It made me want to punch him. How dare he fucking act like he was hurt. “Please, Jane, we can work this out, I know we can. I know I've been stupid, I'm sorry...”
   “I trusted you, Shannon. I gave you my whole heart. All of it. Even when you didn't think I was. Oh god, oh god.....” my voice faltered, the tears flowing heavily now as every memory of us flashed past, every time I told him I loved him, every secret, every intimate moment. It felt like he was mocking me from every corner of my memory. "You told me. You were right. You're just a drinking, whoring piece of trash that I got stuck to the bottom of my shoe," I lamented.
   “Please Jane, please, I am so sorry, please let me fix this....”
   “Undo it,” I said, my knees starting to give out from under me. “Take it back.” The fury that had been holding me up melted. I knew there was nothing he could ever do that was going to fix this. I had invested too much in him. I had loved him too fast and too hard. The grief was already closing in on me, buckling my legs out from under me and taking all the air and light with it. “Take it back,” I sobbed brokenly on more time.
   As I started to fall to the ground I felt Jared step in behind me again, scooping me up and carrying me back into the hallway. Kevin had gone, presumably putting Shannon's skank in a taxi, but Matt was still standing there, waiting I guess to see what drama unfolded next. I turned my head into Jared's chest, my tears immediately soaking his t-shirt.
   “Janey, wait, please, we can talk about this...” I heard Shannon calling after me.
   “Dude. No.” Matt told him and then Jared carried me through the still open door to his room, laying me down on the bed before slamming the door closed behind him.  I curled myself into the tiniest ball possible, letting the tears come. I would have been unable to stop them if I tried. It felt like my whole world was gone. I was definitely in the “after” portion now. I didn't know where to go from here.
   Jared sat down on the bed next to me and rubbed little circles on my back but didn't say a word. I remembered I was angry with him too but I didn't have the strength to carry on that war right now. I was just trying to breathe through from one minute to the next.
   Eventually, I heard a knock on the door and Jared left me for a minute only to return with Tomo. I sat up angrily. “Well great, that's the whole band now. Any crew you want to parade through here too so they don't have to miss out on what a big idiot I am?” I spat out before breaking back down into tears again.
   Tomo sighed. “Janey, I'm sorry. We didn't feel it was our place to get in the middle of your relationship, but for what it's worth we told him he was being an asshole.” He looked around the room and then ducked into the bathroom, returning a minute later with a roll of toilet paper that he handed to me. I took it gratefully, drying my eyes and blowing my nose.
   “You don't have any bags with you. Are you staying here in the hotel? Do you have a room?” Jared asked.
   I nodded and looked around the room. Jared had clothes laid out everywhere like he was getting changed to go out. “Yes. I'm sorry. I'll go back down there now. I'm sorry to drag you two into this.”
   “That's not what I meant,” Jared said. “You can hang out here with me as long as you want. I'd actually feel better if you did, you're a mess right now. I'd rather you weren't alone. I thought maybe you'd like your things. You've soaked that shirt with tears.”
   I looked down at the shirt he was referring to. The front was wet and streaked with makeup. I could only imagine what I looked like. “It's okay. I can go back downstairs. You don't have to bother.”
   “It's not a bother. But we can go down to your room if you'd rather. Or Tomo can go with you. I just don't want to leave you alone right now.”
   I sniffled again as the guys looked at me expectantly. “Why are you being so nice to me?” I asked as I burst into tears again.
   “Well personally because I feel pretty shitty about letting this get as far as it did,” Tomo said. “You're a nice girl, Jane. You didn't deserve this.”
   “I am not a nice girl,” I protested. I hadn't been a nice girl in a very long time. I had grown wild and reckless as I had ventured out into the world and now I was paying the price. I wasn't a girl anymore either.
   “Fine, you're not a nice girl," Jared conceded in a tone that said he did in fact, still think I was very much a nice girl. "You still didn't deserve to get treated this way.”
   “Fat lot you did to stop it,” I pointed out.
   “Sister, you have no idea what I've been trying to stop,” he said grimly.
   I looked at the clothes that were splayed out around the room. “Going out?” I asked.
   “I was going to meet someone. I can do it another time.”
   I blew my nose again and got up. “It's okay. I don't want to spoil your night too.” I gave Tomo a hug but everything felt numb. “I'm going to miss you guys.”
   “I'm not going anywhere. And right now neither are you,” Jared said.
   “I was just going to grab a drink and crash,” Tomo pointed out.
   “Wait here,” Jared told me before taking Tomo out in the hallway. He came back in a few minutes later and asked for my room key before stepping away again.
   I went into the bathroom and splashed some water on my face before looking in the mirror. I looked terrible. My makeup was gone, my eyes were bloodshot and puffy and my skin was blotchy. I was pale and my expression was hollow. I felt like I  had been stripped of all the glamour I had carefully crafted around myself over the years and I was once again plain Jane, with the bushy hair and braces, the one who got taunted or ignored, the one who was never anyone's first, second or even third choice. The girl guys settled for until something better, something more interesting, something hotter and wilder came along. Isn't that what had just happened?
   I heard Jared and Tomo come crashing back through the door and I stepped out to see them with all my belongings, dropping them on Jared's bed with a laugh.
   “I didn't know what you would want so I brought it all. I can bring it back down for you later when you're ready or you can just take my bed tonight and I'll take the pull out.”
   “Uhm.. thanks, I guess.” My voice was flat and I should have cared about sounding ungrateful but right now I just couldn't manage.
   Tomo said something to Jared I couldn't hear and then he gave me a hug. “You're going to get through this, Jane. Hang in there.” He turned me loose and gave Jared a little wave and then he was gone.
   “Okay, so I think a shower would probably help, and some comfy jammies,” Jared said, opening my bag. “What do you have in here? Do I need to loan you something?”
   I pulled my overnight bag away from him and shook my head. I dug through it for my pajamas, tossing aside a t-shirt of Shannon's that had gotten shoved in there in our haste to pack that morning. “Burn that,” I told him. Jared quickly picked it up and tucked it away. I grabbed my little pouch of toiletries and locked myself in the bathroom.
   Underneath the shower I lost it again, tears rending their way through my shaking body as I gripped the tile and tried not fall over from the misery and despair that were threatening to consume me. I had taken a big chance on Shannon. I had all but begged him from the beginning not to make me regret it. And now here I was, alternating between being completely numb and utterly broken, without even Roger to turn to. Screw him and his “You can call me if you need to,” parting bullshit. He knew exactly what I was walking into and let me walk into it anyway. The thought of calling him now, knowing he would be sitting there thinking “I told you so, I knew it” made my stomach turn. I was suddenly glad I hadn't eaten since that morning.
   I finally managed to pull my wits about me enough to get out of the shower and into my pajamas. Coming out of the bathroom I found Jared already in his PJs as well, with bottles and snacks littering the small table by the sofa.
   “I raided the mini fridge. Let's get drunk and I'll tell you my sordid story if you'll tell me yours,” he said, waving a tiny bottle of vodka in my direction. I snatched it away from him before plopping down on the sofa. I needed someone to commiserate with right now. Jared would have to do.
   “Deal.”
@msroxyblog@nikkitasevoli@maliciousalishious@meghan12151977@mustlove6277@fyeahproudglambert@little-poptart @lady-grinning-soul-k@snewsome756
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marissabdbdp-blog · 7 years ago
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FemaleInTrouble.
Marissa: I needed to go to the shop to get a few things, I had to get out and have some time to myself, it’s been so busy lately I wanted a few minutes to myself. I left the office and headed towards the clinic, saying to Ehlena I was just popping out for a bit and i’ll be back soon.
I headed out the door and walked slowly down the street, going towards the supermarket.  I picked up a few things, some sweets for the little kids. I picked up a bottle of wine. I paid for my things and headed back to Safe Place, but something was wrong I could feel it.  Then I thought I heard was a baby crying I couldn’t see where to look, hoping the baby was not in pain. So I looked around couldn’t see anything, so I kept on looking, it got louder and louder. I stood still, laying on the ground was a female with a baby in her arms, she was covered in blood. I reached down to see if the female needed help.
Gen: She couldn't remember where she was much less how she got there. Everything seemed to be a bit of a blur for her. One minute she had been putting Sebhastian down for his nap when the doors of the Daea estate were kicked open, the appropriate house doggen fleeing for safety, the males try to take up arms to protect the mistress. Lessers raided the house, ripping the upholstery, the furniture tossed on its back.  They had come so fast, she froze. It wasn't until Stefan, her beloved Stefan, who also happened to be the family cook, and father to her young. He was handsome and brave. Especially in those last few brief moments they had together. It was he who had ushered her out the back doors, Bhastian in her arms. But it wasn't good enough. They weren't soldiers. They had no training. Her and her family were born in poverty, it was why they took the job as a “fill-in doggen”. Not doggen. They couldn't go out in day, but they needed the money and it was the best they could do.
She'd ran as hard as her legs would carry her, Bhastian fussing in her arms from the bouncing around. The lessers had noticed her right then. Chasing their prey, their bodies faster, catching up to her with no qualms, they scratched and clawed their way to get to her and still she refused to give up, no matter how much her sides cramped and her legs burning. And still she refused. They wouldn't get her. No. Not when she had someone to live for, who needed her. Bhastian needed her. Even as they lunged and grabbed her foot, forcing her body to twist so she didn't land on her young, the wind getting knocked out. It seemed hopeless. And still she held onto him, his cries ringing her ears. She kicked herself free, but not without sustaining some cuts. In fact she could feel most of her flesh cut from their excessive need to catch their prey. But Scribe help her, somehow even now she was alive, she could tell, just lying on the ground, her arms refusing to loosen around her young, she was alive. By some miracle. Slowly lifting her head, her face wet with sweat and blood beginning to dry across her cheeks. It took the last but bit of strength she had to call for help, her voice hoarse from her previous screaming.
“H-help! S-someone help!” Losing the power in her voice, her one last final plea a more softer subtle touch. “please.” And out like a light. It was the last thing she could do and pray. Pray someone would find her before the sun did.  
Marissa: I was trying my hardest to wake the female, the baby was still screaming loud not even the baby could wake her up, I leaned down I checked to make sure the baby was fine.  But I could see the baby was so stressed I tried to grab him, pulled him towards me and wrapped my coat around him, I got my cellphone and dialed Ehlena and hoped she picked up fast, this female and her child needed medical treatment fast.
Listening for my phone, it finally started to chime oh good, I am glad, I answered Ehlena It’s me, I have a female that needs medical attention now! Grab Rhym, bring some blanklet’s and come quickly I can’t wake the female, her son needs help to. I am trying to keep him warm, hurry as fast as you both can. I don’t think I can wake her.  I’ve been trying even the baby crying is not helping. Hurry, don’t wait I need you both now. I will keep trying to wake her.
Ehlena: *I started talking on the phone to Marissa trying to calm her down, “Marissa I will be right there in a couple of seconds and I will bring the stuff that I am needing to help the female just make her comfortable as best as you can until I get there and help you” I hung up the phone when I got the details where Marissa was shouting to the supervisor to grab some blankets and a flask of some water, I pointed to the sink, “Rhym in the storage cupboard it is still open there is some things that you would need including things for the baby, We need to be quick female is in trouble and she has a baby I need you there with me” Grabbing the medical bag that was under my table with everything in it for an emergency, soon as I saw Rhym with the things that I had requested I made my way to where Marissa was with Ryhm walking beside me.
Rhym: As we head towards Marissa. I get a update on what as happened from Ehlena. How bad is her injuries? is the young hurt? Opening the doors we exit. The smell of the female’s blood was strong in the air.
Ehlena: *Walking out the doors then walking towards Marissa was when I say walking it was more of a jog I knew that a female was needing help and Marissa was needing my assistance with the female that was in trouble. I could not answer Rhym correctly “sorry I don’t know all of the  information at the moment” Walking fast and spotting Marissa doing everything that she could for the female in trouble, I could see that she was doing a grand job without me being there. Finally I had answered Rhym with what I knew. “Don’t think the young is harmed in any way, Not sure how bad her injuries are at the moment I know that she is bleeding” I ran over to Marissa who had the female in her arms noticing that the female and her young were in trouble. This female needed my help and fast.
Marissa: So glad you got here, we need to get them inside it’s too cold out here, this female needs help now, let’s move her. I looked over to Rhym, can you take the baby? I will make sure that we help this female, the wounds are so bad she might need surgery depends on how bad the injuries are. Looks bad to me looking at the blood on my hands, starting to shake it’s getting colder let’s move now!
Rhym: Taking the baby from Marissa I place him near my chest for warmth. Don't worry I have this little warrior. *Cooing as I look down, your mayhem is in the best hands, quickly looking over the young. You I've good lungs. Walking back into safe Place keeping the doors open for Marissa and Ehlena.* Once they enter, I tell them I will inform the Brotherhood in case a missing person is reported. I head towards the kitchen to get a bottle for the young.
Ehlena: *Taking one look at the female in trouble who Marissa was with and noticing that she needed urgent medical assistance she needed to be at the medical wing getting the help that she needed, I had got the blankets from Rhym and I placed another gauze bandage over one of her wounds. “Try to keep the pressure on this or she will bleed out just until we get her to the wing there are lots more to help her there, We need to cover her with the blankets to keep her warm, I took my radio to ask for a trolley to the clinic where I would work on her there. The trolley came so quickly to the entrance Marissa and I got the female up onto her feet and we both walked to the entrance where the trolley was waiting for us.
Gen: Her eyes dancing behind her lids, a slight crease along her brow. She needed to wake up. She needed to keep going, keep fighting, away to safety, away from the lessers. Her consciousness had faded long before, dreaming of a time before all of this, all of the chaos. She had been dreaming when she and Stefan were in the kitchen one evening, showing her how to slice onions. She cried like a babe. Stefan had asked her what was wrong, his grey eyes looking into hers for a search for answers, concerned it was his teachings. Which, to be fair, was an adventure all in itself. His instructions were always a little hard to follow, that maybe he was being too harsh with her in his lessons. She'd confessed it was the onion that was making her cry and Stefan laughed. Embarrassed, she'd playfully swatted at his arm, begging him not to laugh, even though she herself was starting her little fits of giggles, the mood swaying to a lighter setting between them. He was fun and exciting. He was patient in her lessons even though it was more like rocket science to her. Never did he hit her or was he harsh. A bit facetious, but she liked him that way. He didn't pretend. And now he was gone.
She couldn't remember much as her mind slowly drifted back into reality, yelling at herself to go back, to keep on dreaming. The air felt different. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, something was pressed against her back. She was lying on something. Her brows furrow with concentration. Where was she? What happened? Was she dead? Was this the Fade? ‘Does this mean I can be with Stefan?’ Her thoughts beginning to race, throwing all kinds of what-ifs. But if she were dead, why couldn’t she open her eyes? They still felt heavy, like a force forbidding her to wake just yet. Her mind beginning to make sense of the world around her, voices could be heard above her. Her baby. Where was her baby? She needed to get to Sebhastian. She needed to get him to safety. If not for herself, Scribe help her she would give at least one last ounce of strength, something, anything, long enough to get him somewhere safe. By sheer luck, her lids opened to the world around her. A brief second of confusion, lost to the events of the world around her. Where was she? How long had she been asleep? Was she still alive or was this her Heaven? Made up to fit whatever, continuing on as if she were living only living in the realm of the dead. Then it all came back to her. Looking frantically around in search of her young. “Bhastian? Bhastian where are you? Baby?”
Marissa: [Looking over at Ehlena, as we pushed the trolley down the hall towards the Clinic and fast, I could see the female finally waking up. All I could hear was her talking about her baby, she was worried. Learning down to her ear, whispering in her ear to tell her, the baby was safe we was making sure he was okay, also if he was hungry we was going to feed him. You are okay now, no one will hurt you here. “My name is Marissa, I run safeplace it is to help females like you it’s to protect you from a loved one, or if a female needs help.”  We make it right. Me and my family will take care of you, you’re injuries look bad, I found you and brought you here.]
Please don’t worry, Ehlena is a nurse she is going to look over you and see what the damage is, If we need a doctor.  I can call Doc Jane if it is that bad. She lives with the brotherhood.
Once we find out how bad you are we can help you to get better, I can go and find Rhym and bring the baby to you. But please try and relax, you are safe here need a drink just ask. Looking over at Ehlena, how bad do you think she is?
Ehlena: *Helping to push the trolley down through the corridors to the clinic I heard everything that Marissa was saying to her trying to keep her calm. “Marissa is correct we will look after your baby no harm will come to him and she is correct you are safe you will get the treatment that your needing here” We finally got to the clinic at safeplace. I knew that Jane could be on hand to help out if I was needing it but surely although it won’t come to that I could try to do my best for the female. First of all I had to clean a few wounds, pointing out to Marissa that we needed a bottle of cleaning fluid and some gloves, some sort of dry cloth from the cupboard would be good to clean up the females wounds I had to check to see if she is going to need some surgery anywhere, checking all over the female’s body paying attention to the bones that could break easy, A injury has came up on her ribs it looks as if some of the bones are broken and with her breathing in a funny manner. More than likely it is a few of her ribs she will need to have plenty of rest. A bandage needs to be on the ribs for a little bit we need a big bandage Marissa from the bandage cupboard.
She will need round the clock care just in case she happens to get a fever. And her temperature goes above 104.F then she will need Jane, Need to keep an eye out for her breathing and any other signs that she may have an infection. I would have liked to put her under some sort of sedation a drug called ketamine will be used if possible just so that she gets the rest that she needs. This bleeding will also have to be addressed, I took the bandage and wrapped what I could around the female but not too tightly enough so that she could breathe, Whilst Marissa passed me the cleaning fluid I got to work cleaning her wounds putting some gauze on them and plasters. I got out the needle with the ketamine taking the correct dose that I was needing and maintaining her blood pressure at the same time I placed the needle inside the bottle taking some of the liquid to give the injection to her. looking down at the female “This will help you and give you the rest you need so that your wounds can heal correctly, This female will need round the clock care while she is staying here at Safeplace. I will be here to help out when I am needed and will be spending lots of time here checking as well, We will have to get her to another bed where there are some monitors to check for everything” I checked the female’s blood pressure since I had gave the dosage of the that drug “Everything seems fine for transportation to another bed.
Gen: There was very little that transpired between them. She couldn't keep track of what was happening around her except several beautiful looking young women around her, one above her who seemed to be speaking to her. ‘Ehlena? That's a pretty name.’ She thought. Oh Scribe! Her body hurt! It felt almost impossible to speak. Badly she wanted to let the kind female know she acknowledged her. And what put her More at ease was the mention of her young with another female. Good goddess. He was alive. Thank goodness. She wasn't quite sure what she would do without her baby. Aside from some broken ribs, she'd managed to strain enough to listen to the voices around her. Broken ribs. Probably some bruising. No internal bleeding as far as she could tell. Definitely scrapes. It hurt to breathe but at least she would live and yet, the weight of events came crashing against her in a wave. Her family. Gone. Her Stefan. Gone. Never will Bhastian ever grown to know of his father. He’ll never hug him, or kiss him, or do what any other father and son do by bonding. Bhastian had no warrior blood in him, so it wasn't as if he could train to be a Brother.
Suddenly she could feel something break into her skin and something easy over her, her limbs turning jell-o, automatically relaxing her body. Her lids having grow heavy, she managed a weak smile. “please. Help my baby. He's...the only family I have left in this world. I can't lose him. Please. Do everything you can..for him.” She refused to cry. Later. Later she would cry, and mourn. But not now. Now she needed to stay strong for Bhastian.  
Marissa: Listening to the women, please try not to panic I will go and find Rhym to see how the little warrior is doing, he didn’t look to bad just needed feeding and into the warm. You need to rest you are in a lot of pain. You need to get better for the both of you. We will keep you safe and make sure you have the best care. “My name is Marissa, this Ehlena” She will keep looking and make sure that the pain doesn’t get worse, then we will have to call doc Jane if it does. I am happy that everything looks good.
Please don’t worry, I am going to leave you in the hands of Ehlena. I am going to find your baby, bring him to you. I think he is getting fed and maybe sleeping, but I will speak to Rhym see if he is okay then bring him to you. I will be back soon. I exit the clinic and walk towards the baby clinic to check on the baby and Rhym.
Rhym: *looking up as Marissa enters, while gently rocking the young as he was tired.* how is She? This little one a fine, no marks or bruising or redness. She did a fantastic job keeping him safe. *looking down at the young I smile, he is asleep I whisper. Shall I take him to her. I will stay with them in case he needs anything.
Marissa: We can go together I said that I would bring him down, I don’t want to disturb him if he is sleeping, did you feed him? I know but she is not good she is in loads of pain. I think she has a few broken ribs and other injuries, I am sure Ehlena will look after her. They both can stay here until she is 100%. Let’s go and take this little warrior to his mother, “Smiles at Rhym as we head towards the clinic” I am glad I found them Rhym, or we could have lost both.
Ehlena: *When Marissa left and all of the wounds were clean, After she was given the correct dosage of Ketamine I was convinced that the female laying on this table was going to get past this she will live with a lot of care and looking after she will do well. She had to, she had a baby there a fine young little warrior who was going to survive through this as well to get revenge after what this female his mother has went through.
I looked down at the female and pulled up a chair that was in the corner of the room. I checked the female’s breathing and she was doing well so far  I checked the wounds made sure that the bandage was secure that was on her body. I kept on checking her vitals until Marissa had came back with her son. Then maybe she would be ok enough and she can see her son. The female was a little sleepy with the drug that I gave her but she was awake talking now I could not give her too much of the drug since she wanted to see her son.
It would be a good idea after she saw her son to give her some more Ketamine so that she is comfortable and that she could get a good night’s sleep where her body can recover the trauma that she has just been through. waiting the arrival of Marissa and Rhym with the little baby when I heard some footsteps at the Safeplace clinic door.
Marissa: Walking towards the clinic with Rhym and the baby, knowing that the female would be happy, knowing her little warrior was safe and not harmed in anyway. He had been fed and was asleep in Rhym’s arms, you could hear his breathing as he was away with the world. Such a special little warrior, made me think of all those other females and their young. How many we have helped and it was only going to get busier.
“I looked over to Rhym, I am sure we can give the baby to his mother now.” I smiled at the female as Rhym passed the baby other, placed down next to his mother. I have never seen a mother and a son bond like that, something must of happened to this poor female. “I smiled as the baby laid closed to his mother chest” They were both home, together.
#FemaleInTrouble #SaintsNSinners #BDB #SASBDB
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spn67-sister · 8 years ago
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The Truth About Adam Pt 5
The Truth about Adam part 5 Summary: Sam, Dean, sister, Adam, Crowley when Sam and Adam fell into the pit/cage, as in she was there and watched, there since the beginning. Y/N: 23 Adam: 24 Sam: 26 Dean: 28 Warning: Language, spoilers? If you haven’t watched up to season 5/6. THIS WILL BE THE FINAL PART!!! Thank you to everyone who read this! This was originally two, so sorry if it is on the longer side!
-------------------------------------------------------- Deans POV
Cas told us he would be back. He promised he would come back with a cure. If only he would get back here faster. It’s been almost 3 weeks and Y/n is getting out of control. I saw her and Adam on the news burning down a building with demons by their side. She has killed people and most likely done worse. Adam is on the top of most wanted list, with Y/n in second place. According to the news, Adam is the leader of the attacks, but has his partner commit them, which makes him more dangerous.
I know it’s not Y/n, but it sure looks like her. I try not to show how upsetting it is to me, but it’s hard to hide it, when I am currently drowning in a pool of pain. Sam isn’t hiding his pain well either. He buries himself in his work, and drinks, but I can’t say I don’t help with that. I am also constantly drinking, because of this. It breaks my heart to be seeing her in this state, and I pray to Cas every night that he will please fix her and bring us the cure.
Another week passes and he still hasn’t gotten in touch with either Sam or myself. More about Y/n and Adam cover the news. The country seems to be in a panic. Finally, after now 4 weeks, Cas gets in touch with us.
“Dean?” he asks in his deep voice with no emotion.
“Cas? Where the hell have you been! You have been radio silent for weeks and Y/n is getting worse. Tell me you have something to fix her.” I beg on the phone trying to keep it together. Sam gets up from his spot at the table and quickly walks over to me to try and listen.
“I’m sorry. I have been to quiet, but I did find something. I got a cure, but we need to be near her in order to do it.” He says through the phone, “I’m coming over now.”
“Cas, you
” And then he was there. Sam greets him and Cas begins to explain the procedure for the spell.  “Dean, we can do this tomorrow if you want. We can cure her.” Cas says
“No, we will do it now. I can’t wait another moment when I know that I can fix my baby sister. She needs to be cured by tonight. No excuses.” I yelled and Sam and Cas, and they just nodded their heads.
“Well, then let’s get to work on this spell.” Sam says and gives him a weak smile. We are getting her back, tonight.
---------------------------------------------- Sam’s POV
Me and Cas finished the spell, and Dean was working on making contact with Y/n. The spell was very difficult and required a lot of ingredients that I have never even seen before, like the arm of a clock that just hit 6.
“Guys, I just finished the spell. I can get her here, are you ready?” Dean comes in and tells you, clearly eager to see Y/n. Not having her around has really been beating him up. He drinks more than he used to, and I could hear him praying to Cas or anyone who would listen every night. He is constantly watching the TV, waiting to see if Y/n will come on screen. I have seen him multiple times, crying, which never happens.
“Yes, we are now ready to summon her.” Cas says looking plainly at him as I start to gather the spell.
“Alright, then let’s call her.” Dean says with worry but a touch of excitement in his voice. I, for one, was going mad without Y/n She brings the brightness into this bunker. Her smile, corny jokes, and laugh is something I long to hear again. She is a perfect mix of Dean and I, and we are both missing a huge part of our life without her.
I watch as Dean draws a demon trap and then sets up a chair in the middle while the spell equipment that I set up is set up to the left of the trap. He chants the spell in Latin and almost instantly, Y/n is in the demon trap, sitting on the chair with both legs over the arm and her head over the other, like if someone was holding her bridal style.
“Well, look how nice it is to see my boys here.” She says clearly not affected by the demon trap, “Ew, you put a trap around me? Honestly, it won’t last long.” She said laughing at us while making herself more comfortable in the chair. I still can’t get over the fact that she is wearing leather pants and a crop top black long sleeve shirt. At least her hair pulled back into a pony tail, which is normal.
“Why won’t the trap last?” I ask getting to the point. It hurts to see her like this, but I have to get her back to normal. If I don’t, then I know Dean will.
“Oh silly Sammy! You forgot about Adam! He will be here any minute now. He will free me, not trap my like my ex-brothers like to do.” She said in a high pitch voice that made my ears hurt, “Why do quiet Dean? You scared or something’?” She asks mockingly. The fact that she is like this hurts, but what kills, is that she just said to Dean, is what Adam said to her when she was still human. When Y/n was Y/n.
“Hell no. I’m not scared of my baby sister. My weak pathetic baby sister, who I could take any day.” He said as I stood there looking at him like he lost his mind. “You have no instincts and your fighting technique is awful. You never plan for anything, which gets you nowhere.” At this point she is up and out of her chair, and about 5 feet from the edge of the trap, infuriated by his comments.
“What the fuck did you just say to me?! I am 10 times the hunter you have ever been and will ever fucking be!” She screamed at the top of her lungs as her voice kept getting higher and higher, to the point where it made my ears ring. Who knew my sisters voice could get that high?
“That all you can do Y/n! You use words to intimidate people, not motions! Your words get you places, they are good I will admit, but not even close to your skills in combat.” Dean says egging her on, and I think I know where he is going. Y/n is now right at the edge of the trap, “your words do get you places. Look where they got you? To the edge of the trap!” he says as he grabs her wrist and she looked alarmed and confused, “Your words got you here and, they will get you back to being my sister.” He said as he jabbed the shot into the side of Y/n neck as she screamed louder than I have ever heard a woman scream. She then fell to the ground.
------------------------------------------------------------- Readers POV
I felt cold. I could feel the empty area where there was no fabric on my back or my stomach, as I laid on the cold concrete. I didn’t open my eyes. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to face the reality of what demon Y/n did. I didn’t want to face the disappointment in Dean and Sam’s eyes. I wasn’t possessed. It was me. I was the demon. I caused the destruction, but was helpless to do anything. I just sat in the back of my own mind and screamed and screamed until I had no voice. The dark side of me was in control and I was helpless to do anything.
I had to open my eyes, so I did. I saw I was in a storage type room, just by looking at the ceiling. I then saw Dean’s head over mine and he called my name and helped me sit up. I didn’t speak. I didn’t move other than being helped up. I just leaned against the chair in the circle and stared into nothing. I heard Sam run over and start to talk to me. I heard Dean Start yelling. I was shaken by Sam. Then by Dean. Cas said something about me being in shock, so they stopped for a while. Cas said to give me a couple of minutes and I would wake up. I was ready.
“I’m cold.” That’s all I said and Dean smiled, glad to hear my voice, and Sam just hugged me as he helped me stand up.
Sam let me go. Dean gave me his flannel. I looked at him. Then Sam. I burst into tears. I couldn’t hold them back anymore.
I was free. I was home.
It was Deans turn to hug me. He held me for what seemed like seconds before we were interrupted by someone who I hoped to never see again. I saw Cas get snapped away. I was pushed behind Dean, and Sam took out his gun.
Adam.
He was here.
Suddenly, I didn’t feel guilty anymore for leaving him in the cage. I was glad he was in the cage for five years. I almost wish he suffered more. All sadness I had for leaving him, was now turned into anger. I remember the gun that I was given by Adam

“Get out of here before put you back in the cage, myself.” Sam said through gritted teeth, “She has been through enough. Leave us alone.”
“Well, I can, if you set up a deal. With him.” He said as he pointed at Crowley, who was happily standing in the corner, “Make the deal.”
“Gladly. Winchester boys, if you go to the cage now, your sister will be saved. If you refuse to, Y/n will be turned back into a demon. Your choice.” He says and snickers.
“Trying to hide her? Look how well that’s turning out for you.” Adam says clearly unamused, “Dam it Winchesters! Make your fucking choice! I have places to be!” “I’ll pass.” I yell and Adam looks at me before I shoot him in the stomach. He falls to the ground, dead.
----------------------------------- 3 months later
It was rough at first, getting used to not being a demon. I have frequent nightmare and wake up screaming at the top of my lungs. Dean or Sam always comes into my room and hugs me or just stays with me till I fall asleep. They are never angry. They have yet to raise their voices at me. They are patient. They get that I’m not ready to do things. They never push me into doing something that I’m not ready for. I am grateful.
I noticed that my absence had really effected Sam and Dean. The drinking took a while to break, but it happened. They are both smiling more. Dean is going back to working on the car and Sam is now doing a healthy about of research.  The constant worrying is still a working progress. Our family is slowly getting the pieces to fit back together again.
We will never trust Crowley again, and my goal as a hunter, is to hunt him down and kill him for doing this to me, and most of all, to my family. Nothing is more important than family.
The TV stations have officially stopped reporting on Adam and me. Dean told me that Cas somehow made them forget about me.  I have started to eat again, and be like myself more. Dean and I joke around, and Sam and I do research. I’m setting a goal for myself that by the end of this month, I will go on my first hunting trip. I’m actually looking forward to it.
I know I wouldn’t be here without my brothers. They understand me and make me laugh. I can always count on them. Well, two of them. Through what I went through, I was able to not feel guilty or remorseful. I was able to learn the truth about Adam.
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Tags: @fromheaven2he11 @rosie-winchester @miss-katie-winchester @a-girl-who-loves-disney @winchesters-favorite-girl
Thank you so much to everyone who has read this series all the way through! You are all amazing and so wonderful! If you want to be tagged, just ask! Recommendations are now open! looking for a new series to write!
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